I raised my brows. “Does it ever get tired?”
Vic smirked and my God, Vic smirking was orgasm worthy. “Come here. Five seconds, Rainbird.”
I laughed and grabbed my purse off the dresser. “Oh my God, it’s never been five seconds. More like five-thousand seconds.”
“I want infinite seconds with you, baby.”
I smiled. “Unfortunately, I can’t lie in bed all day like you do.” He huffed. Because the only time he laid around was when he watched me play guitar, or when we were in bed spooning while he traced his fingers over my skin. “I have to go to work. You’ll be here when I get back?”
“Meeting Saint later. Not sure how long we’ll be. You good to pick up Jackson, or do you need me too?”
“Yeah, I will. He’s agreed to let a female hairdresser cut his hair, so we’re going after my shift, and we’ll be later than usual.”
I licked the scar above my lip. I knew what the meeting with Saint was about. I’d overheard Vic on the phone talking to my brother. They formed a truce of sorts, mostly because they wanted the same things: for me to be happy, and for them to find the man who had raped me. As much as I wanted them to let it go, I understood why they couldn’t. It wasn’t in them to let him walk away.
“Babe,” he said frowning. He climbed out of bed and strode toward me. When he reached me, he cupped the back of my neck. “I know you want to let it go, but that can’t happen. I’ll keep it far away from you. You’ll never have to know who he is, and Jackson won’t find out. Okay?”
I nodded, my chest squeezing. “Okay.”
Vic would shield me from whatever they found out and what they did with that information. I had no misconceptions as to what Vic did for a living and what he was capable of.
He pulled me in closer and kissed me, and my body instantly sagged into his arms. I was about to say fuck it and skip work when my cell vibrated, and I jerked.
“Oh my God, I have to go.” I slipped from his arms and hurried out the door while reading the text from Addie on my way to the car.
When I pulled into Zero Crow’s parking lot and shut off the engine, I quickly replied to Addie’s text about the time we were meeting this weekend. I’d booked Jackson in for his first riding lesson, and Addie wanted to come with us. I shoved my cell into my purse and climbed out of the car, locking the doors.
I didn’t even think about the van that pulled in beside me. I’d been thinking about the soreness between my legs. About my bruised mouth. About Vic kissing me—everywhere.
I smiled, taking a step toward the bar.
My spine tingled when I heard the van’s door slide open beside me. I half turned to look, but I was too late as an arm hooked my chest. I opened my mouth to scream, but it was smothered by a large palm.
I scrambled, kicking out, and I fumbled to grab hold of the doorframe to stop him from pulling me inside.
I kicked and twisted my body back and forth. My hand latched onto the frame, and I held as tight as I could.
He jerked hard on my chest. My fingernails scraped the metal as my hold released.
No. Please, God. No.
The door slid on the rails and clanked shut.
Something jabbed into my arm, and then there was nothing.
Vic
“Aderyn. Slow down,” I said, calmly.
Her voice was muffled in the phone, and I couldn’t understand a single word she said.
“Macayla. She didn’t pick up Jackson.” I was at the police station with Saint, and we were going over the list Ethan had given us on every person who had been there the night Macayla was assaulted.
“Okay, you need me to go get him?” I pointed to the next guy on the list. Trey Harmon. Saint typed the name into the computer, and it came up deceased. I looked at the date he died. The night of the party. Macayla’s birthday. Fuck. I kept reading. ‘Senator Adam Harmon’s son Trey Harmon, a rising hockey star, was found dead in the ditch off Nottingham Street this morning. Severe burns, numerous cuts and bruising noted around his neck, wrists and ankles suggesting he was restrained and tortured. No leads or suspects.’
Saint and I looked at each other. Neither of us believed in coincidences. Saint brought up the police report—Cold case.
“Vic, Macayla didn’t show up to work. She didn’t pick him up. The school called Hettie.”