Cut and Run (Criminal Profiler 2)

One way or another, she’d meet Faith McIntyre. But for now, the Hill Country and East Austin addresses waited. She typed in the rural address, and when it loaded, she took a right onto the road and drove past a lone strip mall and scattered homes before the turnoff to Blanco, Texas, appeared.

The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate sparse brown land covered with scrub trees and bushes. But the land and her surroundings barely registered as her mind spiraled around the idea that she might have a sister. Did Faith McIntyre know about her? One way or another, they would have questions for each other.

Which led to renewed questions about her birth mother, who had always been shrouded in we-don’t-knows and mumbled comments about a closed adoption. If her mother or Jack really knew who she was, they’d never said, regardless of how often she’d pressed.

Her headlights cut into the deepening darkness. Hoping to settle her racing mind, she switched on the radio and found a country western station. She’d lived in Dallas growing up before moving east for college and then the academy, but despite all the bland apartments scattered across the country, she always felt at home when she heard country music. She cranked it, hoping the melody would drown out her thoughts.

The Maps app on Jack’s phone reminded her of an upcoming turn, snapping her back to the present. She slowed as she searched the road for a sign. There wasn’t one, and she was halfway past a small rusted mailbox when she realized she’d found her turn. She backed up and took the left, grimacing as the dry brown dust kicked up around her car.

Ahead, her headlights sliced over a brick house that faced east. The windows were boarded up, and the roof looked like it had taken a beating in a recent storm. It had a low porch that ran across the entire front and a single rocker that stood eerily still.

She stopped. As the engine idled, she studied the house bathed in moonlight. Out here unexpected guests could just as easily be met with the barrel of a shotgun as a welcome, a lesson she’d learned in the Colorado mountains her first year on the job. She’d been searching for several missing girls. The woman on the other end of the gun had demanded her name as her gnarled finger twitched above the trigger. Macy had grabbed the gun and twisted it out of her hands, but her supervisor had reamed her out for ending up in the tight spot.

After a few minutes and still no signs of life, she shut off her truck’s engine, checked the gun holstered on her hip, and got out of the car. The day’s blazing heat still hadn’t dissipated.

Sweat beaded on her back almost as soon as she started walking toward the house. A rusted wind vane squeaked softly as her gaze swept the entire area a second time.

Climbing the front steps, she noticed the shades were drawn. There were also footprints in the dust scattered on the porch. “Was that you, Jack?”

She stood to the right of the door. Hand tightening on the grip of her weapon, she knocked on the front door and waited. Being out here alone at night wasn’t the smartest maneuver and something she’d never dare if this wasn’t so damn personal. A round object caught her peripheral vision, and she looked up to find a small camera covering the front porch.

The house remained silent, with no response to a second knock. She descended the stairs and walked around the back. Moonlight glittered on an old set of patio furniture. Windows facing the back of the barren property were also covered in shades.

She then walked to the back of the property. Dust coated her ankle boots and the hems of her jeans.

Other than the footprints on the porch, it looked as if no one had been out here in years.

Her gaze was then drawn to a row of three large rocks, arranged in a perfectly straight line. That kind of symmetry didn’t happen in nature, and for some reason, the hair on the back of her neck rose. She realized what she was looking at. Grave markers.

As she unholstered her weapon, she moved slowly toward the stones and saw a set of large footprints that circled the first stone several times. The footprints trailed to the second stone and the third. She knelt by the first and placed her hand on the sunbaked rock. The stones had no markings, but they were spaced almost exactly five feet apart.

Jack had hidden this phone in a compartment beneath the carpet for a damn good reason. Using the Maps app was way out of his wheelhouse. “Pop, the phone tells me you were out here, but it doesn’t tell me why.”

She scrolled to the next address. East Austin. She was convinced her old man had left her a trail of bread crumbs, and in her entire career, she’d never been afraid to chase a lead. But this time, she truly feared what she’d find.

CHAPTER FIVE

Monday, June 25, 11:30 p.m.

Faith didn’t give the man a second thought as she crossed the tiled lobby of the hotel. Laughter and the clink of glasses drifted out from the hotel bar as she stepped onto the elevator. Her attention shifted to room 701.

As the gilded doors slid closed, a hand reached between and pushed them open. She tensed for a second, thinking her admirer had followed, but then breathed a sigh of relief as Hayden casually stepped into the elevator.

He stood stock straight, staring ahead without acknowledging her. Broad shoulders, muscled thighs, and braced feet commanded most of the horizontal real estate, and over six foot two inches of height ate into a healthy portion of the elevator’s vertical space.

“Looks like you made a new friend,” he said.

Tucking her purse under her arm, she locked her gaze with his in the door’s reflection. “Not a friend.”

“He’s been watching you for at least a half hour.”

“As I’m sure half the people in that room were tonight.”

Hayden was a foot from her, but his proximity warmed her skin. Touching him was tempting, but elevator cameras kept her gaze forward as overhead music reminded her of piña coladas and dancing in the rain. The lighted elevator panel ticked off the floors until reaching seven. Hayden placed his hand over the open door and waited for her to exit.

She moved down the hallway, following the signs to 701. It felt good to be away from the crowds, the forced smiles and pretending.

Hayden’s steady steps followed, and when they reached the door, he produced a key and opened it. She passed him and flipped on the lights.

The room wasn’t fancy, but a shaving kit on the dresser, dry-cleaned shirts in the closet, and the closed curtains told her he’d been there earlier. He’d commented once that he lived out of hotel rooms for the most part and stayed on the go. She’d wager if she opened the curtains, she’d find a view of air-conditioning units or a brick wall. But then neither of them had come here for the sparkling view of Austin.

She sat on the edge of the bed and removed her heels as he tossed his hat on the chair. Next came his jacket and tie, which he hung in the closet. He stepped back, sat on the edge of the bed, and removed his boots as she pulled off her earrings and set them by the television.

This was how it had been with them. There was never a heady rush for either to get naked. Each took their time undressing, savoring the anticipation, looking at the other as if daring them to rush. It was sort of a game. Who would give in to temptation first?

She unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off before she turned her back to him and felt his calloused fingers slowly pull down the back zipper of her pants, exposing her lace underwear. He trailed a finger up her spine to the clasp of her bra, which he unhooked.

Her breath caught in her throat as her belly tightened. This was what she’d been craving since she’d last seen him four days ago. She wiggled the slacks over her hips and let them fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them and hung them and her blouse next to his clothes in the closet. Knowing he was watching, she slipped off her lace bra, panties, and lace-trimmed thigh highs. When she turned, he was no longer by the bed but standing inches from her. He still wore his khakis, but he’d stripped off his shirt.

Again, she didn’t hurry. Let the anticipation build. Let the wanting grow so sharp that it cut away everything in h

er life.

He glided his hands along her waist, but instead of pulling her toward him, he turned her toward the mirrored closet door.

This was also how it went with them. Neither wanted to look into the other’s eyes. She didn’t want to see him as a person. And she guessed he was pretending she was the woman he still loved. His hand slid over her buttocks and squeezed hard enough to make her try to squirm away.

He reached around and cupped her mound, rubbing it until she was wet. When she began to wriggle, he drove his fingers between the folds. She sucked in a breath, not raising her eyes to his because she didn’t want to see him. She only wanted to feel.

His zipper opened, she heard the rip of foil, and he fumbled only for a moment before he pressed the tip of his erection against her bare skin. She flattened her hands against the mirror and arched toward him. He spread her legs and pushed into her with one hard thrust so abruptly her breath caught in her throat.

He hesitated, allowing her body to adjust to him. Again, no kisses. No words. Just patience for her body to fully open. When the tightening eased, he moved inside her slowly as his fingers pressed against her now very moist center.

He’d learned very quickly which buttons it took to set her on fire, and he was pressing them all. A moan escaped her lips as he shoved into her harder with a fevered thrust she’d not experienced with him before. The tight control he always maintained had slipped, and she could feel a creature inside of him stirring.

He pushed into her faster, and she found herself racing toward the edge of an abyss that she so desperately wanted to tumble into. With him inside her, the world faded, and she could simply surrender to sensation.

A groan rumbled in his chest, and for the first time she opened her eyes. He was staring at her with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

She pushed his hand away and pressed her fingers to her clitoris. He gripped both her hips with his hands, and he thrust as she drew tighter and tighter circles around her core.

And then a fuse lit, caught fire, and the explosion propelled her over the edge into the void. Her eyes closed, she arched back, and he thrust into her one last time before his body stiffened and the muscles in his neck flexed.