Kill Without Mercy Page 6

  She searched his face, no doubt looking for any hint of mockery.

  When she found none, she released a shaky breath. “You’re psychic?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not exactly, but I’ve learned to follow my intuition.”

  “Intuition?” A portion of her terror eased as her lips gave a small twitch. “I thought that was a female thing.”

  “I’m serious.” He tapped the end of her nose, feeling ridiculously proud that he’d managed to distract her, if only for a few seconds. “Even my commanding officer listened to my hunches. Hell, he risked lives on it. So if you tell me you have visions, I believe you.”

  Chapter Five

  Annie swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling mesmerized by Rafe’s dark, compelling gaze.

  In the back of her mind a tiny voice was whispering she should run.

  She was standing in her father’s abandoned house in the middle of the night with a man who might very well be a serial killer.

  What did it matter if she had a gun? She didn’t know for sure that it was loaded. And even if it was, he was close enough to snatch it from her hand.

  But she made no effort to move.

  She didn’t know why, but when Rafe Vargas was near she felt safe.

  And crazy or not, she needed to share her fears with someone.

  “I don’t know what’s real,” she whispered, afraid if she said the words too loud it might bring her nightmare to life.

  His fingers tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his touch featherlight.

  “Will you tell me what you saw?”

  “A woman . . . but only a shadowed outline.”

  “Did you recognize her?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I could tell that she had long hair, but it was too dark to see her features.”

  His fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Anything else?”

  She trembled, the images from her dream flashing through her brain. “She was running through an empty field.”

  “Was someone chasing her?”

  “Yes.” She was absolutely certain.

  He nodded without hesitation and Annie had to blink back silly tears.

  God. She was so used to people pooh-poohing her wild claims, trying to convince her that it was all just a dream. Or worse, looking at her as if she were out of her mind.

  It felt extraordinary to have someone who simply listened.

  “Were there any details that could help locate the field?” he pressed.

  “I think there was a barn. Or maybe it was an old house.” She grimaced. It would be dangerously easy for her mind to add in details she hadn’t seen. “I don’t know.” She blew out a frustrated sigh. “All I remember is watching her run across the field and feeling . . .”

  Her words trailed off with a small sound of distress.

  His hand cupped her chin as he tilted back her head to study her horrified expression. “Annie?”

  Her blood ran cold as she suddenly remembered the feel of the crisp night breeze ruffling her hair and the scent of a wood fire from a nearby chimney.

  It’d felt so real.

  As if she had been standing at the side of the road, watching the woman flee in terror.

  “Happy,” she abruptly burst out. “I felt happy that she was running so I could catch her.”

  “Shh. It’s okay,” he murmured, carefully pulling her into his arms. “Why did you come here?”

  Annie leaned against his bare chest. The warmth of his body helped to ease the tiny tremors that raced through her, and the tangy scent of his male cologne . . .

  She abruptly sucked in a sharp breath, realizing the sudden tingles racing through her were pure feminine arousal.

  Good Lord. What was it about Rafe Vargas?

  She’d never in her life been so potently aware of a man.

  With a grim effort she forced herself to ignore the desire to discover what it would feel like to run her hands over the chiseled muscles of his chest. Or to tug his head down and kiss him senseless.

  “The last time, my father put the women in a shelter beneath the garage,” she muttered.

  His hand ran a soothing path up and down the curve of her back. “Do you want me to go look?”

  She shook her head. The moment she’d reached the top of the drive she’d realized that her hasty midnight trip had been a waste of time. “There’s no need,” she said. “It’s gone. Someone bulldozed it and filled the shelter beneath it with dirt.”

  She felt something brush the top of her head.

  A kiss?

  “It’s not the only building that could use a good bulldozing,” he murmured wryly.

  “True,” she had to agree, her gaze moving toward the room that had once been filled with sunshine and happiness and childhood dreams. Now there was nothing left but . . . “Shit.” With a jerk, Annie pulled away from Rafe, instinctively aiming the gun toward the nearest window. The shadow she’d seen hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. “There’s someone outside.”

  “Whoa.” Rafe reached to press her hand down, although he didn’t try to take the gun. “It’s a friend of mine. He’s a pain in the ass but I’d prefer if you didn’t shoot him.”

  She scowled as she watched the shadowed form move toward the dilapidated chicken coop.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Making sure there aren’t any other midnight visitors,” Rafe said, something in his voice suggesting that he was accustomed to searching for unwanted intruders.

  “Oh.” Without warning, Annie swayed as a tidal wave of weariness crashed over her. When was the last night she’d actually slept more than a few hours? She couldn’t even remember. “I should get back to the motel,” she muttered.

  Perhaps sensing she was on the edge of collapse, Rafe carefully pried the gun from her hands and tucked it in the waistband of his jeans.

  “Do you have anyone I can call to stay with you?”

  She gave a sharp shake of her head, her teeth beginning to chatter. As much as she dreaded being alone, she wasn’t going to call her foster parents.

  They would do everything in their power to try and force her back to Denver.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You can barely stand,” he growled, his expression tight with a strange frustration. As if it bothered him that she insisted on being alone. “At least let me drive you back.”

  “My car—”

  “Teagan can drive your Jeep back to the motel.” He overrode her protest, his voice warning his decision wasn’t up for discussion.

  If she hadn’t been so damned weary, Annie would have informed him that she didn’t take orders from overly arrogant men.

  No matter how gorgeous they might be.

  But unfortunately, he was right.

  She really wasn’t in any condition to be driving.

  Besides, if she was being perfectly honest, she would admit that she wasn’t overly eager to retrace her path through the dark country lane.

  She’d been in a mindless panic when she’d left the motel. Now, however, her skin crawled at the thought of the unseen eyes that had been watching her earlier.

  Without a word, she stepped around his larger form and headed for the door.

  After a good night’s sleep she would feel . . .

  Her thought was interrupted as she kicked a small object that had been left in the middle of the floor.

  Automatically glancing down she came to a sharp halt, her breath locked in her chest as she leaned over to pick up the small doll with the mass of tangled blond hair.

  Britney Spears.

  It was covered in dust, and the clothes were rumpled, but Annie had a vivid memory of dancing through the house with the doll clutched in her hand.

  The sun had been shining and her father was laughing as he watched her silly antics.

  “Annie?”

  The sound of Rafe’s deep voice broke her out of the past, although the precious feelings of childish joy refused to be co
mpletely dismissed.

  “This house should be a place of horror, but I had such good memories,” she muttered, her attention locked on the doll that looked as lost and broken as she felt since returning to Newton.

  He moved to stand next to her, his hands clenching as if he was battling the urge to reach out and touch her. “You loved your father?”

  “Very much,” she admitted without hesitation, lifting her head to meet his searching gaze. “I know you must think it’s twisted, but he was always kind and patient and funny when we were together.”

  “I don’t think it’s twisted at all,” he protested. “Tell me about him.” He held up a hand when she frowned. “I mean, tell me about him as your father.”

  Expecting the usual condemnation, Annie was caught off guard by his gentle question.

  No one had ever asked her about Don White as something other than the psycho serial killer.

  Tentatively she allowed herself to return to the past, the doll unconsciously pressed to her chest. “He always had two Oreo cookies and a glass of milk waiting for me on that table when I came home from school.” She nodded toward the shrouded piece of furniture situated near the door. She hadn’t eaten an Oreo cookie since she’d left Newton. “And he went with me to the movies on Saturday afternoon just because I said I wanted to be an actress when I grew up. And every Sunday morning he took me to the restaurant for pancakes.” Bittersweet pain sliced through her heart. “I don’t understand how the same man could be so evil.”

  “He was sick, Annie, not evil,” Rafe murmured.

  She hunched a shoulder. “Is there a difference?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen men in battle,” he said, a hard edge in his voice hinting at memories that were as dark and painful as her own. “Some are just naturally cruel. They enjoy causing pain because it’s a basic part of their nature.” His jaw clenched. “And there are others who’ve been ruined. By life. By war. By . . . fate. They do what they do because they can’t help themselves.”

  Annie studied the lean, fiercely handsome face. How did he do it? How did he always know exactly what to say?

  It was freaky.

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  He cocked a brow. “For what?”

  “Most people don’t want to think the Newton Slayer could have any redeeming qualities,” she said, having learned from the second she’d been rescued that her father was public enemy number one. “I usually feel guilty for not hating him. He destroyed so many lives.”

  He brushed a hand over her tangled curls, careful to keep his touch light. “He was your father.”

  “Yes.” He’d been more than that. He’d been her entire family. She gave another shiver. “We should go.”

  He dropped his hand and nodded, keeping a small distance between them as she headed out the door and across the rickety porch.

  “My truck is at the end of the drive,” he murmured as they reached the overgrown yard. “I’ll tell Teagan to join us at the motel.”

  She had a vague impression of a large man who appeared from the shadows to speak with Rafe before he was jogging toward her Jeep, but her concentration centered on keeping her feet moving forward.

  Christ, she was tired.

  Rafe was back at her side by the time she reached the edge of the road, opening the door to his truck and helping her to climb into the seat before he was rounding the hood and taking his place behind the steering wheel.

  In silence he started the engine, flipping the heater on high before performing a U-turn. There was a brief stop as he waited for his friend to approach the truck holding her purse that he’d obviously retrieved from her Jeep. Then, placing the bag in her lap, he shoved the truck in gear and headed back to town at a pace far slower than the one she’d used to get to the house.

  Annie clutched her purse, only vaguely aware of her surroundings. She had the impression of genuine leather and a dashboard that had all the bells and whistles. The sort of truck that would be functional for work around a ranch but no doubt cost more than she made in a year. But her gaze remained glued to the dark, chiseled profile of her companion.

  Safely tucked in his car with the warm air beginning to ease her shivers, there was nothing to distract her from Rafe’s sheer male beauty.

  It was . . . nice.

  Almost as if she was a normal girl being driven home by a man who she found intensely attractive.

  A damned shame her brief daydream didn’t last for long.

  All too soon they were back in town and he was turning into the drive of the motel. Rafe pulled to a halt in the center of the parking lot and glanced in her direction.

  “Do you remember where you lived before coming to Newton?”

  She froze at the abrupt question, too startled to tell him it was none of his damned business.

  “Most of my memories from my early childhood are fuzzy. I think my dad said that we lived overseas, but it’s really just a blur,” she admitted.

  It was weird. She had such a clear recollection of her time in Newton. Time with her father. Her friends at the school she’d attended. Climbing on top of the house so she could see her father in the distant fields.

  But she never could capture any memories of her days before coming to Newton or the days after she’d been found tied and blindfolded in the bomb shelter.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I thought you might have some family who could come to give you support,” he smoothly explained.

  Her gaze narrowed. She sensed there was more to his question than he was admitting, but she was too tired to try and search for any hidden meanings.

  “There are just my foster parents, and I don’t want to worry them,” she said.

  He reached into his rear pocket, pulling out his wallet.

  “Then I want your promise you’ll call me if you need anything,” he commanded, handing her a small business card.

  She took the card with a frown, asking the question that had been bothering her from the moment their paths had crossed.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you so determined to help me?” she demanded. “I’m a stranger.”

  He held her wary gaze. “It’s what I do.”

  “A hero?”

  “Something like that.” He pointed toward the business card. “My private cell number is printed on the back. Call me . . . any time, for any reason.”

  Tucking the card in her purse, she crawled out of the truck and hurried to her motel room.

  Behind her there was a flash of headlights as Rafe’s friend pulled into the lot in her Jeep, but she didn’t hesitate as she let herself into her room.

  She was too exhausted to care that he would be forced to leave the keys in the Jeep. If someone wanted to steal it, then fine. Right now she was far more concerned with crawling into the small bed and pulling the covers over her head.

  For the first time since coming to Newton her thoughts weren’t on the monster who might or might not be stalking the streets, but on a gorgeous, aggravating male who promised to banish her nightmares for at least a few hours.

  Rafe white-knuckled the steering wheel as Teagan climbed into the truck and slammed the door.

  God. Damn.

  He was nearly vibrating with the need to charge through that motel room and pull Annie into his arms.

  Not for sex.

  Well . . . he wouldn’t say no. He’d spent an embarrassing amount of time fantasizing about getting Annie White naked since he’d first caught sight of her.

  But his primary interest was making absolutely certain she was safe.

  It was insane.

  She was a stranger, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would do whatever was necessary to protect her.

  Period. End of story.

  Turning so his massive shoulders blocked out the streetlight from the door window, Teagan cleared his throat.

  “Now I get your sudden interest in Don White.”

  Rafe
gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’m glad one of us does.”

  “She’s a beauty.” Teagan hesitated, clearly something on his mind. “But she’s clearly in a fragile state of mind.”

  Rafe jerked his head to glare toward his friend. “You think I intend to take advantage of her?”

  Teagan shrugged. “I’m just saying she seems vulnerable.”

  Vulnerable. Fragile.

  And potentially in danger.

  “Which is why she needs a friend,” he muttered.

  “Just a friend?”

  Teagan’s face was lost in shadows, but Rafe didn’t need to see his expression to get the full effect of his skepticism.

  Rafe muttered a curse as he shoved the truck in gear and headed out of the parking lot. “Stop poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he snapped.

  Teagan heaved a resigned sigh as Rafe drove through the empty streets. “A young, beautiful woman in danger. A handsome ex-soldier who has a savior complex?” He shook his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t have disaster written all over it.”

  Rafe didn’t have a brilliant comeback.

  Hell, it did have all the makings of an epic disaster.

  But there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to change it.

  Pulling to a halt in front of his grandfather’s house, he shut off the engine and climbed out of the truck. Then, heading straight for the door, he pulled it open and waited for his friend to join him. “Do you intend to spend the night or what?” he demanded, not bothering with the whole Miss Manners thing.

  It was not only unnecessary between the five friends, but unwelcome.

  Teagan clapped him on the back. “First I intend to get drunk.”

  Rafe entered the cramped house. “Finally, something we can agree on.”

  The sun was pouring through the window when Rafe managed to wrench open his eyes and roll out of bed.

  His head pounded, and a glance at his watch revealed it was well past eight.

  Shit.

  He’d not only missed his five o’clock jog, but he’d polished off the entire stash of microbrews that Teagan had brought with him. Which meant he was once again stuck with the nasty beer on tap the locals served.