***
I linger in Colt’s bed, enjoying his warm, naked body pressed against mine. It’s going on ten, and I know I should probably go upstairs soon, but it’s hard to pull myself away. He’d determinedly spent the past few hours taking my mind off all our problems, and I am blissfully sated.
My cheek is pressed against his bare chest, and I lazily trail the tip of my fingernail across his flat nipple. It immediately puckers.
“You keep doing that, and we’re going to go another round,” Colt murmurs, his chest rumbling.
I chuckle. “I doubt you have the energy. I know I certainly don’t.”
“Is that a challenge?”
I sigh with regret. “No. I should really go upstairs.”
“They already know that you’re down here.”
“It’s different if I stay the entire night.”
He’s about to reply when we hear his phone begin to vibrate on the nightstand. I reluctantly shift out of his arms, and he leans over to grab the phone. We both sit up as he accepts the call and switches it to speaker.
“I’m assuming Quinn’s with you since she wasn’t answering hers?” Bryce asks.
“I’m here,” I say.
“You guys need to brace yourselves for what I’m about to tell you,” he warns.
Colt and I exchange a look, knowing that things are about to become worse. “We’re ready,” Colt tells him.
“The woman in the photo was from Maine, and she was killed last year. Her case is linked to another in Canada. I’m still pulling together information, so I don’t have all the details yet.”
I pull the sheet closer to my chest, frowning with confusion. “I don’t understand. What do you mean she’s dead?”
“Do you know who he is yet?” Colt asks.
My stomach is tight, and I’m beginning to feel ill. Slade killed her? He’s killed someone?
“So far, all I have is a name, Shane Janke. He left a fingerprint at the crime scene in Maine, and it came up with a match. Janke had priors that include aggravated assault and theft. He’s originally from Canada, where he was a suspect in a murder. This guy, he’s a serial killer.”
Both Colt and I are now silent, and a heaviness fills the room. His eyes connect with mine, and they are grim.
“I didn’t think…” my voice trails off, thick and full of emotion.
“This is a sick and twisted game to him, Quinn,” Bryce tells me. “He stalked the woman from Maine and also the one in Canada.”
“How did she die?” I ask quietly, referring to the woman in Maine.
Colt looks at me sharply, visibly warning me that my question isn’t a wise one.
There’s a silent pause on the phone. “Are you certain you want to know?” Bryce asks me.
I draw in a shaky breath. “You told me the more information I have, the better, right?”
“I don’t think this kind of information is going to help you in any way,” he says gently.
“You’re probably right, but it’ll be in the back of my mind. You might as well tell me.”
“Very well. She bled out from all her cuts and stab wounds,” he reveals.
“How many?” I ask hoarsely.
Colt reaches for my knee. “Quinn, this isn’t necessary.”
“How many?” I repeat, my eyes focused on the phone in his hand.
Bryce sighs. “Over a hundred cuts, twelve stab wounds.”
My stomach turns over, and I know that I’m about to be sick. “Excuse me!” I blurt before I yank the sheet entirely away from Colt and launch myself off the bed. I rush out of his room and reach the bathroom in seconds, switching on the light and dropping in front of the toilet just in time. My dinner from earlier spews out of my mouth, and my stomach heaves painfully until I’m finished emptying my stomach.
There’s movement behind me, and when I look up, I find Colt standing there—completely naked—holding a washcloth out to me.
With a gratefully look, I accept it and wipe my mouth with a grimace. I rise to my feet before flushing the toilet, and then as I clutch the sheet to my body, I toss the washcloth in the hamper. “Is Bryce still on the phone?”
“No. He has more digging to do. Sounds like he’ll be pulling an all-nighter. Come on,” he says, steering me back to his room. When I cross the threshold, he closes the door and walks to the dresser, pulling out his gun case from the top drawer.
“What are you doing?”
He opens the case and takes out the gun. “You’re staying with me tonight, and my gun will be within reach.” His eyes slide to mine. “You go to work and come straight home tomorrow.”
I nod. “Gabe has tomorrow off, so he’ll be here.”
“Ride with Ash, and I’ll try to get out a little early. I want to be here before you get home.”
I mutely nod, no longer anxious to flaunt my independence.
“Get in bed, Quinn.”
“I shouldn’t…”
“You’re staying.”
I look at him wryly. “Not long ago, you couldn’t get me out of here fast enough.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t what I really wanted.”
I walk to the bed and sit down. “We need to tell the others.”
He nods in agreement. “I’ll send a group text asking for a house meeting in the morning.”
“Colt, we need to get Ash and Harper out of the house.”
“Agreed.”