Chapter Forty Eight
The next morning, Charles gently placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder as she sat at her makeup table. It was one of his favorite moments of the day, when he would watch her brush her hair. Before they greeted the demands of the day, he savored the simple pleasure of watching the brush move through the silky strands before they fell back into place. She placed the brush on the table, sighed, and was soon staring off into space.
“What’s wrong, Melanie?”
It was one of the things she loved about him: straight and to the point. She never had to guess what he was thinking. But he could assume his poker face at a moment’s notice when necessary. She’d always admired how he could endure the scrutiny of an FBI agent and never break a sweat. She, on the other hand, was more of an open book and she supposed that was one of the reasons he protected her so intensely. Her love for her family was what enabled her to withstand the pressure of their criminal lifestyle. She looked up at his reflection in the mirror. “We’re putting our daughter-in-law in a dangerous situation.”
He took her hand and led her to the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. She sat down next to him, looking up at him with earnest eyes.
“Look, I’m a cold bastard, I know that,” he said. “But that icy edge of mine has never been directed toward my family. And she’s family now.”
Melanie took a deep breath. “You’re right. You’ve always kept us safe. I expect you to keep her safe, too.”
“You have my word. The only reason I even asked her to help draw him out is that she has unique resources to accomplish that. She has a huge online following. I’ve looked at her blog and I have to admit, I’m impressed. She’s a good writer.”
“I’m starting to hate all blogs.” Melanie wasn’t as impressed as her husband was. She didn’t doubt Teegan’s writing talent, but she didn’t care for Teegan being in danger because of it.
“I’ve had one for years. It’s a way to communicate directly with the community, with no filters. And it’s a two-way street. There are people who feed us information who would never contact the FBI. I know it’s hard to believe, but what people think about what we’re doing matters. We need to stay in the public’s good graces. Let Mummy Man be Public Enemy Number One. Mummy Man,” he guffawed. “It sounds like a superhero villain.”
She could almost taste her husband’s disgust with the killer. “I know, but I just worry that it could backfire. Building you up could be taken as a blow to his ego.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
“What?! If he goes on a killing spree to prove a point, it’ll be our fault.”
“He’s already on a killing spree. Melanie, he can blame us all he wants because he’s a deranged, sick fucker. But we’re not going to blame ourselves for what he does.”
“Tell my heart that. Every time I think of those poor girls...”
In an effort to lighten the mood, he pulled her close and chuckled softly. “Thomas said she was scared to do a write-up that would build me up into some kind of hero because she didn’t want to piss you off.”
“Well, at least she has enough respect for me to care about how I feel. Most of your fangirls are shameless hussies, you know. ‘Oh my gawd, you’re my hero, Black Rose. I love you. Can I send you my panties?’” she taunted in a dimwitted bimbo voice.
He slid his hand down to cup her mound. “The only panties that interest me are yours. Preferably when they still smell like you.”
Without warning, he began tickling her ribs. Soon she was laughing so hard that she was wiping tears. Between bouts of laughter, she begged him to stop but he had no intention of letting up anytime soon. Melanie was the only woman who could tempt his inner child to come out and play. At moments like this, he felt young and carefree. He treasured these moments with her.
She was the only woman he would ever love. It took a certain kind of woman to break through a killer’s heart. Melanie had claimed his black heart long ago and held it gently in her hands as if it were her greatest treasure. And to her, it was.