He was right. That coincidence had been growing. They were similar in coloring and size. None of them had the unique eyes or were as tiny as she was, but the resemblance was there. Obviously, this asshole we were chasing now had an image in his mind. He was dealing in a type.
I didn’t like it. I wanted to know why, and I wanted to know who.
And I wanted to stop him.
Preferably with a bullet between his eyes.
I didn’t make it to my door before it was yanked open and Missy stood in the doorway, looking anxious and jittery.
“Sweetheart,” I said, forcing my feet to go faster to reach her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
She flung herself into my arms, her grip tight. “I was so worried. You were gone so long.”
I carried her into the apartment and shut the door, her sweet words on echo in my head. I wasn’t used to anyone worrying about me, but it warmed my heart to hear those words. I walked over to the sofa and sat heavily.
She lifted her head, and I brushed the hair back from her face. The bruises were mostly gone, although some faint shadows still remained. Her lovely moss-green eyes were darker than usual—more gray—indicating her anxiety. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, the tender gesture still new and unfamiliar to me.
“It was tricky and took longer. We were in a residential area, so we had to be cautious.”
“Was there a gas leak?” she asked, knowing how we covered up the reason for the demolished buildings.
“There will be tomorrow. We didn’t want to do it in the middle of the night. Egan and Damien will be there tomorrow to check it out and flip the switch. Make sure no one is hurt.”
“Did you get the, ah, people in charge?”
I scratched my chin. “The last two were different. Fewer girls, only guards.”
She frowned. “Why is that, do you think?”
“I have to figure that out. Something’s changed.”
“You look exhausted.”
I met her worried gaze, running my finger down her cheek. “It takes a little out of me every time we do this. The images stay clearer longer. I feel the fear and anxiety of the victims more. It lingers. It drains me,” I admitted. “Especially—” I stopped speaking.
“Since me?” she asked knowingly.
“Yes. I see you in every one of them. The fear, the pain, the terror.”
“What about the hope? The relief when they realize you’re there to help not hurt? The gratitude?”
She was right. It was there as well. The grateful tears, the sobs of relief. The whispers of thanks and the clutch of their fingers when they accepted our help to get them from the darkness.
“I was never more grateful for anything in my life,” Missy murmured. “You were like a hero, reaching into that cage and freeing me. Wrapping me in a warm blanket and holding me. I went from being deathly frightened to safe.” She stroked my cheek. “I had never known such safety until your arms, Marcus.”
“You will always be safe with me.”
“I know.”
I stood, carrying her to the bathroom, setting her on the vanity. I shrugged out of my shirt and pants and helped her off with her clothes. I carried her into the shower, letting the hot spray cleanse my body and ease my tension. She insisted on washing me, her hands soft and soothing, helping me relax. Once I had rinsed off, I picked her up again, taking her to my large bed and sitting on the edge. I grabbed a condom, and she straddled me, her heat and wetness open to my cock. Our mouths fused together, and I slipped inside, groaning at the feel of her. We moved slowly, building a fire that burned low and hot. She caressed me with her hands, stroking and gentle. Her body was a panacea, easing my anxiety, taking me away from the darkness, and surrounding me with her light. I held her tight as she climaxed, her orgasm triggering mine, and I fell with her, clutching her close and moaning her name.
After, we lay in each other’s arms, relaxed and sated. Strangely, in my head, I saw the grateful looks, the relief, and the thankfulness from the women earlier. I was able to concentrate on that rather than the darkness that started it all.
I pressed a kiss to Missy’s head in an unspoken thank-you. She sighed and fell asleep—me not far behind her.
The next afternoon, I was in the command center, staring at the files in front of me.
“Something’s changed,” I griped. “What the fuck has changed?”
“He’s becoming sloppy,” Damien agreed.
“No, it’s more than that. What you said last night about them looking like Missy. You’re right. All the women in the last two raids have had her coloring. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”