Page 33 of Deadly Secrets
Stroking her lips with the end of his tongue, he was rewarded when she parted them and a hushed mewing sound came from her throat. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers jetting through his hair, dragging him in closer.
He swept his tongue inside her mouth, one of his hands cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he probed deeper. She tasted like his best brandy with a hint of raspberries—probably from her lip balm—and he wanted to drink her down, just like his favorite alcohol.
She wrapped a leg around him, running her foot up and down his calf. Her hard nipples and full breasts pressed into his chest. He was about to kiss her down to the couch when his phone rang with a familiar tone.
“I really should…”—he rained soft kisses against her mouth, her jawline—“take that.”
Half-lidded eyes stared back at him as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, down the back of his neck. “Do you have to?”
The ringtone was Winslow’s, and a quick check of his wall clock told him it was after two a.m. “It could be about the case. Or your laptop.” Whatever it was, it was important. Winslow wouldn’t call for any other reason.
“Oh.” She stopped massaging his neck and stepped back, letting her hands fall to her sides. Her face was flushed. Her gaze darted away from his. “Of course.”
Hating himself, he snatched his cell off the side table and adjusted his too tight crotch. “What’cha got, Win?”
“I talked to Detective Benedict. We got nothing from the campus videos outside of a guy in dark clothes. I’m running them through my friend’s body recognition program, but it could be a while.”
Win’sfriendwas ex-NSA and worked for a covert paramilitary group based in DC with lots of high-tech toys and programs that made the FBI and CIA green with envy. The group didn’t just have a facial recognition program that was top-notch, they had taken the FBI’s Next Gen Identification System, which included palm prints, irises, and advanced fingerprint identification technology, and expanded it to a host of biometric measurements. They could use a person’s build and gait to match perps with their respective crimes. “The guy never showed his face to the cameras, did he?”
“Doesn’t matter. He wore a mask.”
“A mask?” Roman turned to face Brooke.
But she had disappeared. He scanned the room, circled the couch to peer in the kitchen. No Brooke. “What kind? Like a Halloween one?”
“Ski mask.”
Roman crossed the room to the steps that lead up to the second floor. He heard water running and breathed a sigh. At least she hadn’t bolted on him. “Don’t see those every day in Southern California.”
“You do not. I had Benedict put out an APB on the guy, including his ski mask, but I doubt we’ll get any hits.”
Sigils, a mask, the car B&E… “Listen, this guy may be the killer that’s connected to a 20-year-old case that involved Dr. Heaton when she was a kid. He’s dangerous and this was no random robbery.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Wish I was. He left something behind for her, something very personal that few people know about and it ties in with The Rev.”
“Ah, shit, I don’t like this. What was it? Wait, let me guess. A sigil?”
“The exact same one a killer used on the doctor’s childhood friend, a girl named Aleisha Dunkirk.”
A surprised hesitation and then, “Fuck.”
“My thought exactly.” Roman plopped down on the couch and rubbed his eyes. It had been one long fucking day. “He has to know she’s stirring things up over this Reverend killing spree, and he’s coming out of the woodwork to stop her because he agrees with The Rev, or…”
“Or heisThe Rev. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
“Oh, man, this is bad. Where’s Heaton now? You got security for her, right?”
“She’s with me. Look, the guy must have followed her to the campus, or he had some kind of tracking device on the car, even though it’s a rental. Maybe he’s computer savvy enough to have tapped into the rental company’s files and used their GPS system or he works for them. Do a background on all the employees from the company, okay?”
“I’ll put Nadia on that and ask Benedict to check the car for a tracking device. He impounded it.”
Roman stared at the fire. “My guess is our perp was waiting for her to return to her hotel room. When she didn’t show, he got mad, found the car, and stole her stuff.”
Winslow whistled softly. “He’s stalking her.”
