Chapter 48
Two Nights Later
Ijolt up in bed with a shriek, kicking and tossing, punching in the dark, air squeezing out of my lungs.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
It all stops when I realize where I am.
“It’s okay, Olivia.”
Grant’s voice breaks through the horror. The feeling of Lonnie on and around me vanishes as Grant takes me in his arms.
“It’s just us.” His voice softens. “It’s just us.”
I go motionless in his hold, letting the sensation of him settle as the nightmare washes away. The same nightmare from last night has revisited. It's what would have happened if Lonnie had been able to follow through with his plans. The recall has me clinging to Grant’s bare arm, nails out like talons.
“I-I didn’t think this would happen.” Frustration coats my words and stomach. “It’s over. This shouldn’t—”
“It’s normal,” Grant counters, stroking my head. “Our minds have an odd way of powering through trauma, but then once the source of that pain is taken away, we revert as a way of decompressing. It will go away eventually.”
“So stupid,” I grumble, my lungs tight. “I’m sorry this is happening.”
“You’re sorry?” Grant shudders as he pulls me in tight. “Shit, Olivia, I'm so sorry.” Remorse cracks in his voice and fingers interweave through my hair. “I never should have put you through that. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” A huff of amusement leaves me. “What is there to forgive?”
“So many things,” he mutters. “What we did was dangerous, especially for you. Everything could have gone wrong. I should have told the head of security no, but I didn't know what else to do.”
My hands smooth over his chest. With moonlight spilling in, I catch a glimpse of those eyes I love so much. Deep, round, full of penance as he frowns. My only thought is to soothe that look away. “It's okay, Grant. You did everything right. It sounds like your hands were tied.”
The expression changes to a pinch as he stiffens for a moment. His eyes flit away from my gaze, shifting around the room until they settle on me again. “Olivia. I have a confession to make. Something I've wanted to tell you.”
My heart stalls at the way he utters the words. Meek and quiet. “A confession?”
He nods.
“I ended up lying to you.”
A heavy ache radiates through my chest, and I feel myself go hollow. “About what?”
“All those late nights before I told you I was leaving town.” He takes a shallow inhale. “I wasn’t meeting with Alan.”
My pulse flatlines, and my stomach knots itself when thinking of the female voice. “I-I already know that,” I say weakly, and when he flinches, my insides tumble to my feet. My following words are weaker, sewn with dread. “So where were you, Grant?”
“Everywhere.” He sighs, and his body unravels beneath me. “I was everywhere, darling. Walking all around Seattle, trying to draw Lonnie out.”
“What?” Shock binds deep in my chest, making it impossible for me to move. “Grant, why—”
“Shortly before I took my ‘trip,’ we decided to do research. We knew he was still in the area but were baffled by how good he was at avoiding detection. A few days after digging, we found out some … chilling information.”
My brows furrow. “Like what?”
“You’re from Connecticut?”
I nod, not sure what to say.
“And you lived near Hampton?”
I nod again, my throat tighter this time.
Grant raises his brows. “Have you heard about the Green-eye’d Killer?”
“No. You mentioned it at the penthouse, but I had no clue what you were talking about.”
Grant takes a pensive looking swallow and reaches out to grab my hand. “There was a serial killer running loose in the area. Five women murdered the first year you would have left. The killings showed high IQ, steel nerves, and that he was probably familiar with the investigations of law enforcement. He also had a calling card. If the lady he killed didn’t have green eyes, he would clip green eyes out of magazines and tape them over the ladies’ faces.”
“Oh my—” I stiffen, horror gripping me in its palm, causing my heart to palpitate.
“Disturbing as that was, what scared me was how every woman had a resemblance to you. The same age, height, hair color, weight—all he needed to complete his fantasies were the eyes.”
“Oh.” It’s all I respond with, because it’s all I can form. Any remaining words are being snaked out of me in fear and sickness.
“What really set us off was that the killings stopped at the same time he went to prison for involuntarily manslaughter. Even worse…” he says, his voice dipping, fingers gripping tight into my arm. “After he found you and came here, the police found a body near the docks shortly after. Your build, with green magazine eyes taped to her face.”
I gasp, bile rising up my throat. “That’s … that’s disgusting.”