Page 33 of The Survivor
“It wasn’t your fault, Sam,” he said quietly.
Her shoulders drooped. “If I hadn’t chosen to put my body on display, he might never have found me.”
“Hey, don’t think like that. You didn’t do a thing to provoke the attack. Neither did Elaine or the others. None of you deserved what that psychopath did to you, none of you asked forit. Bad luck and the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Samantha. That’s all it was.”
He sounded so earnest, so sure of himself, that tears pricked her eyelids. How did this man know exactly what to say and do to make her feel better? And why, when she should be focusing on putting the man who hurt her behind bars, did she want nothing more than to kiss Blake Corwin again? For six months she’d dreaded the thought of a man touching her. Shied away from it. Now she wanted Blake to touch her. Over and over again.
As if sensing her need, he stepped closer. Lazy flakes of snow floated down between them, tickling Sam’s nose and sticking in her hair, but she couldn’t make her hands brush the snow away. She couldn’t take her eyes off Blake. The scent of him filled her nose—heady, masculine. His gaze flickered with desire and uncertainty, as if he were torn between pulling her close and pushing her way.
God, she didn’t want him to push her away. It had been so long since she’d felt this way, since she’d wanted so badly to draw someone close and never let go.
“Blake…”
Her voice trailed, her lips unable to form the words she really wanted to say. So she reached out slowly and pressed one palm to his chest. His coat was unzipped, and even with her hand touching the thick material of his sweater, sinew and rock-hard muscle filled her palm.
A wave of warmth and desire lapped over her breasts, tickled her thighs and settled promptly in her core. And in its wake, prickling shivers teased every nerve ending and caused her pulse to quicken to a fevered rate.
God, this was crazy, how badly she wanted him. So badly that every part of her grew hot and damp.
Heat and hunger mingled in her blood. When she tilted her head and saw the same heat and hunger reflecting in his eyes,an unbearable combination of raw need and unadulterated lust filled her body.
His ragged breaths seared her cheek, her skin tingled and trembled at his nearness. As his brown eyes darkened to a smoldering hue, time stopped. They stared at each other.
He seemed to read her mind again as he reached out and traced the outline of her jaw with his thumb, then stroked her lower lip with his fingers. He dipped his head, his warm breath tickling her face, his hands stirring something hot and primal inside her.
She parted her lips. Waited for his kiss.
It never came.
Before she could blink, he drew back. Broke the contact and sent disappointment spiraling through her.
“The snow’s getting heavier,” he said thickly, avoiding her gaze. “We should go back inside.”
CHAPTER 8
The next morning Blake received a phone call from Rick, who offered his trademark brand of good, bad and terrible news.
“The lab came back with a report on the dirt we found on Elaine Woodman’s body,” Rick said briskly. “It was identified as a slow-release fertilizer.”
Hope spurted in Blake’s chest, causing him to grip the phone more tightly. “Did you narrow it down to any growers in the area who use that type of fertilizer?”
“Unfortunately, every grower in the damn city uses it. Chasing the trail will only lead to thousands of potential suspects. We need more to go on. But the detectives on the task force are looking into the florist angle as we speak.”
“What about the blood and tissue samples collected at the warehouse?”
“A bust. The blood belonged to one person—Elaine. And the skin cells found under her fingernails were contaminated. The tech only managed to get a partial profile. All we know is that our guy is male. We ran the profile through CODIS. No hits.” Rick’s voice grew somber. “There’s more.”
“There always is.”
“Our pictures were in the paper this morning.”
He nearly dropped the phone. “What?”
“The reporter, Reynolds, he did some digging and found some old photos of us at the press conference Knight held after Butcher Betty was captured.” Rick hesitated. “Reynolds alsomentioned running into you and Samantha in the hospital and announced that she was under your protection.”
Blake’s jaw tightened. “So if our guy is watching the news or reading the papers, he knows our faces.”
“And our names. Yep, that son of a bitch Reynolds went ahead and released those, too.”
