Chapter 9                 

Skye

 

That wasn't too bad, I congratulated myself before falling asleep. I needed to allow that movie to scare me because I didn't want to start thinking that this mission was a piece of cake. I was sure that Dvorak was the killer, but I was also sure that he wouldn't attack me inside Gracenote. Woods being around was another reason that my fear level was low. The guy was a legend and a veteran of NYPD. Even if Dvorak tried something, he was close enough to protect me. And that was exactly the sort of thinking that would cause me to make mistakes.

The movie itself was over the top and if I was in a more cantankerous state of mind, I would have nitpicked endlessly about police procedure and other unrealistic stuff. It managed to scare me enough to get my heartrate up and give me that shot of adrenaline that reminded me I was on the job. I had no idea what Woods had thought of the movie. He'd been mostly silent and about halfway through the movie I realized I was crushing his hand. He didn't complain and I didn't let go.

I didn't even realize I fell asleep when my alarm blared at six. I had twenty-five minutes to get through my morning routine and be out the door in jogging attire. It took me nineteen minutes to finish everything which allowed me the luxury to get in the kitchen, down a cup of coffee and maybe sandwich before grabbing a bottle of water and running out of the house to my first meeting with the killer.

I banged loudly on his door. We hadn't talked about it but I was sure he wanted to be awake when I left although there was nothing he could do but wait.

"I'm going out," I shouted at him through the door.

Probably there were less dramatic ways to wake him up, but I wanted to torture him a little. It was the sort of thing I'd do to Jack when I knew he had sneaked back home through his window at the small hours of the morning. If I felt particularly mean, I went into his room and started tickling him while he slept while blasting his most hated music.

It wasn't a nice thing to do to Woods. It wasn't his fault my body went nuts and I wanted to climb him like a tree. I didn't feel particularly nice that morning. Not after tossing and turning before falling asleep. I sped through the house to get to the kitchen and the lovely coffee as fast as possible.

I skidded to a stop when I found Woods already in the kitchen with two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

"Good morning," he said.

"'Morning."

I grabbed the cup he offered me and I took a gulp at the same time as he said. "Wait, it's hot."

"F…udge!"

The hot coffee burned my lips, my tongue and down my throat. I tried to breathe without whining about how much it hurt. My eyes were swimming in tears. I saw his blurred shape move quickly to the fridge and in a few seconds he was handing me a glass of milk.

"Drink," he said.

I obeyed without thinking. The cold milk slid over my throbbing tongue and down my throat. Sweet relief came with it. I poured some of the milk in the coffee and took another, far more careful sip. It was surprisingly good. I took another sip and licked my lips.

"It's very good."

He gave me a half smile as if he didn't take the compliment seriously.

"Sorry about the temperature," he said. "I used the French press."

"Fancy-" I wanted to make fun of him but my phone beeped letting me know it was the time to get out of the house. "Oh, shoot I have to run."

"Be careful," he said.

"Yeah, Dad," I laughed without looking back.

I got out of the house and I inserted the earbuds. The phone was still on the Home playlist from last night so I fiddled with it to get to the Jogging playlist. After some half-hearted stretches, I was on my way in time to see Dvorak get out of his front door in running gear. I smiled at him brightly and took off. The volume of the music was low enough so that I'd hear if someone ran next to me. It startled the hell out of me to hear his voice on my left before I heard his footsteps.

"Hi. Mind if I join you?"

I took off the left earbud and nodded.

"Sure. I saw a park a few streets that way. Good place for running?"

"The best around here. You're new," he said.

He was a good ten inches taller than me and from so close I could see how fit he was. He had wide shoulders, broad chest, his biceps and triceps were visible under his bronzed skin without needing to flex them. I could see well-toned calves I could guess there was a lean stomach under the form fitting t-shirt. He was exactly the type of man I was normally attracted to. Hell, he looked like most of my boyfriends. He had some fifteen years on them, but you wouldn't think so just by looking at his body.

"Yeah, we moved in yesterday. I'm Sophia."

I offered him my hand. He had adjusted his rhythm to mine and shook my hand without missing a step.

"Leo," he said.

My skin crawled at the touch but I was ready for the sensation. Luckily, I didn't have to betray myself by pulling my hand away because he didn't prolong the handshake.

Nothing about the guy screamed violent killer. I had to get better at judging people. He put on his headphones, and I put mine back, too. The only words were him telling me when we had to turn a corner. We made it to the park in about two minutes of very slow running. I was holding back because of my wound and because I hated running on concrete. The first steps on the alleyway of the small park were as if I was running on air. I sped up a little and he matched my speed effortlessly. I couldn't help glancing at his body as he ran. He never caught me doing it but I was sure he knew, just as I was sure he was wrong about the reason. He probably thought I was checking him out, but I kept trying to see the monster in the man next to me. I tried to focus on his hands, to imagine him wielding a hunting knife, to imagine him cutting into flesh and bone.

A beep in my headphones told me that forty minutes had passed since I left the house. I checked the clock on my phone.

"I have to head back," I said loudly.

He nodded without taking off his headphones.

"You can find your way back right?"

I rolled my eyes, tempted to tell him that he sounded like my dad, but I held it back. His smile made me think that he got that look from his daughter, too.

I waved goodbye and turned around. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw him watching me. He waved goodbye and I tripped. For a split second, his smile was less fatherly.  I was very good pretending to be a klutz and it had always served me well. That day, it served me to show a predator that I was weak.

When I was out of his sight, I picked up the pace. I hadn't sensed any danger when I ran next to Leo Dvorak, but the look on his face when I was on the ground chilled me to my bones. I needed to be back inside the house.

"I'm hoooome," I yelled when I got in. "Daaaad!"

Woods came out of his study with an amused expression.

"I was at the window," he said. "We're still doing the cover inside the house?"

I rolled my eyes at his rebuke. I had to watch that or I might hurt my eyes or something. Why did men have to be so eye-roll-worthy?

"Just in case someone was passing by and they could hear me," I said at a normal volume. "I'm thorough that way."

He shook his head, seeming even more amused. A wave of warmth washed over me. My stomach clenched. No, not my stomach. Lower. It was unnerving that I felt less at ease around him than around the killer albeit for very different reasons.

"He didn't come back with you."

"No. I left him at the park to run. He's keeping in good shape."

"Yes, I noticed at the gym," Woods said, his voice sounding serious and all amusement had drained from his features. "Something's not right."

The sweat cooled on my skin and the hair rose on the back of my neck. Woods was famous for getting insights into dark and twisted minds. Maybe Katherine got used to his ominous way of coming up with theories, but I wasn't. I flopped on the arm of the couch and stared at him, dreading what he was going to say. He shook his head as if to clear his mind.

"Go get changed. We'll talk after."

My legs were shaking when I peeled off the sweaty clothes and it got worse when I was in the shower. Whatever Woods had to say would have to wait. First, I had to scrub my skin to try to remove the sensation of the killer's eyes on me. I wanted to be quick about it but the image of Nicholas Woods waiting for me in the kitchen unexpectedly morphed into a fantasy of him bending me over the kitchen table. My hand slipped between my thighs and I closed my eyes, no longer fighting the need for release.