Unsanctioned Memories. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ braced a hand on his hip and leaned in. “You and I are going to have to find a way to get along, big guy.” If he wanted any chance to snoop through Jessica’s things or get close to the woman herself, Sam would have to get the dog’s permission. Or he’d have to find some way to get the furry guard beast out of the way. “Can I tempt you with a big, juicy steak?”

      Jessica felt sorry for him. She thought she was helping him through the grieving process by giving him the job and a place to stay.

      His lie must have been a tangible scent in the air. Because the damn dog glared at Sam, as if it knew he was going to take advantage of his mistress’s foolish heart.

      Chapter Two

      Walnut Avenue Tenement Hotel—Las Vegas, Nevada

      “Die, bitch.”

      He pulled the belt tighter and tighter around her neck, loving the invigorating strain that burned through the muscles of his forearms and biceps and chest. Sweat beaded on his skin. He was the man. The world was his to control.

      The voiceless words that formed at her cracked, swollen lips stopped as a dying sound gurgled up from her throat.

      “What are you saying, honey? Is that too tight?” He loved the power. At the slightest nod of her head he loosened the tourniquet. “There. Is that better?”

      Her breasts thrust up as she sucked in a deep gulp of air, but he was more intent on her face. Her lips sputtered one word. And he waited patiently for her to repeat herself. “Why?”

      Not please? Not sorry? Why?

      Damn her!

      He jerked back on the belt, pinning his thighs around her hips as he sat on top of her. She thrashed beneath him, her struggles only adding to her pain and his delight as she tore her milky white skin against the bindings at her wrists and ankles.

      He was almost giddy with the gluttonous rush of energy that pulsed through him. He was masterful. Thorough. He towered over her with his strength. “You don’t have so much to say now, do you?”

      He looked down on her as her eyes wept, beseeched, went blank, then closed.

      “That’s it?” he crooned in a soft voice, exhaling a dissatisfied breath of air. She should have protested more. At the very least, asked for his mercy. But this one had been too shocked, too damn full of herself to even scream properly. Disappointing. His entire body deflated as the energy that had jazzed him to yet another high dissipated.

      He slipped off her quietly, not wanting to disturb her imitation of slumber. He rolled up the stocking mask that had covered his face and dropped it into his bag. He hadn’t worried so much about hiding his identity as he’d enjoyed the symbolism of it all. He was man at his most base, his most powerful.

      And he’d been triumphant.

      A glance at his watch on the nightstand told him he had only a few hours before his flight. There wasn’t much time to savor his victory. But he couldn’t just leave.

      He picked up his black jeans off the floor beside the bed where he’d stripped, and reached into the front pocket. He pulled out a pocketknife with a polished, inlaid ebony handle. It was a thing of beauty, a true find for his collection. He opened it up and tested its weight, appreciating the feel of it in his hand.

      Padding across the threadbare carpet, he reached out and lifted a long, silky lock of her dark hair between his thumb and forefinger. Sawing delicately back and forth, he cut the lock from her scalp and lifted the fragrant strands to his nose. Beneath the odors of sweat and fear and that dusty mattress, he smelled the tangy scent of the woman herself.

      It would be an appropriate souvenir of their night together.

      “Unfortunately, I have to be leaving,” he whispered to her. He didn’t bother with meaningless platitudes. She’d served her purpose. There would be no next time for them. “Thank you.”

      He stuffed the hair and knife into his pocket and went into the tiny bathroom. He chased the roaches from the shower and quickly cleaned himself. In a matter of minutes he was dressed and packed and ready to depart.

      But he wasn’t done yet.

      She’d learned her lesson. She didn’t deserve to be found trussed up like a turkey.

      Sparing her a few precious moments of his time, he went to the bed and untied her. He pulled her legs together and crossed them at the ankles. Then he freed her bruised wrists and laid them neatly atop her naked belly. He pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed and covered her up, tucking the cover around her, tenderly putting her to bed.

      This one wouldn’t cause him any more trouble. But that other one…that other one…

      A fistful of that familiar rage tightened in his chest and made him forget for a moment his triumph here tonight. “I was in control tonight,” he reminded himself. Not this dead bitch. “I was in control.”

      The anger left him almost as quickly as it had come. He pressed a hand to his chest and expelled a weary sigh. Her time would come. The one who got away—the one who could spoil it all—her time was coming. Sooner than she’d ever expect.

      He smiled, feeling rational and benevolent and in control once more.

      “Goodbye, love.”

      He leaned over the bed and kissed her gently on her cool cheek. Then he disappeared into the night.

      “SHERIFF HANCOCK, this is a surprise.” Jessica peeled off her gloves and dropped them onto the worktable beside the rusted toy wagon she’d been cleaning.

      “Mornin’, Jessie.” Curtis Hancock slipped his broad-brimmed hat over his salt-and-pepper hair before climbing out of the white official county cruiser. “Fine September day, isn’t it?”

      Jessica didn’t answer. She rarely judged her days by the quality of the weather anymore.

      She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and whistled for Harry who was sunning himself at the far end of the porch. “Harry, come.” Shaking off his snooze, the big dog stretched and trotted over as soon as she gave him a stern look. She rewarded his instant obedience with a “Good boy” and a vigorous scratching along his chest and muzzle. “Harry, heel.”

      Together, they walked down to the gravel parking lot while the sheriff adjusted his holster and utility belt around the waistband of his dark-brown uniform. Short and on the stocky side, thanks to his wife’s Southern-style cooking, Curtis Hancock was every inch the proper, old-fashioned gentleman. Maybe that, and the fact he was closer to her father’s age than her own, made her relax enough to smile. “Can I help you with something?”

      The sheriff tipped his hat in a polite greeting. “Just making some rounds. I like to check on my favorite people in the county when I can.” He leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I let my deputies check on the ones I don’t like.”

      He straightened with a wink and Jessica laughed on cue. “I’m flattered.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the cabin. “I still have some coffee in the pot. Would you like a cup?”

      “No, thanks.” СКАЧАТЬ