CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Exhaustion tugged at Korine as she let herself in her house. The emotional strain of the night had taken its toll.
She flipped on lights as she entered, then undressed and showered, letting the hot water soothe her aches and pains and wash away the soot and stench of the fire.
Slowly, images of Hatcher in the shower with her, running his hands over her, cradling her hips as she wrapped her legs around him and was impaled by him, replaced the gruesome memories.
Only it stirred another kind of tension.
She wanted Hatcher. Again. Tonight.
The temptation to call him was so strong she could barely resist.
But she had to. If she didn’t, she’d never be able to give him up.
She scrubbed herself until the hot water turned cold. A quick towel dry, then she dragged on a tank top and pajama pants and padded to the kitchen for a glass of wine.
She took the glass to her back deck, sank into the glider, and stared out into the dark woods. The storm clouds had lifted, and it was a beautiful, clear night. Stars shining. The quarter moon shimmering through the tree branches.
But a dozen thoughts bombarded her—the case, the women who called themselves the Keepers, Tinsley Jensen locked in her own cottage terrified of the man who’d attacked her, her brother Kenny in rehab because of what he’d witnessed as a child, her mother living with the horrible truth that she’d shot her own husband, Esme and her mother’s secrets that had tied them together . . .
The justice symbol painted on the victims’ faces . . .
Where was the justice in any of this?
At one time, she’d thought finding out who’d killed her father would give her peace.
Tonight she felt anything but at peace.
Instead, she felt torn up inside. And alone. Very much alone.
Hatcher and Wyatt got warrants and searched Cat’s—Belinda’s—house. The pictures, evidence bags, and murder weapons were exactly where Bellamy said they’d be. A search of her computer revealed a list of people they suspected were her next targets.
With Bellamy’s testimony, Cat’s attack on Hatcher and Korine, and now this physical evidence, they would be able to lock Cat away. Her lawyer would no doubt use her traumatic past and possibly PTSD as a defense.
He and Wyatt had driven back to the field office to interrogate Cat. She’d taken full credit for the vigilante murders and claimed that the other four women they’d arrested were clean. She’d intentionally steered them toward the women to give her time to continue her mission.
The women were being released and the charges dropped.
Hopefully Cat/Belinda would end up in a mental health facility where she could receive therapy.
“What’s going on between you and Korine?” Wyatt asked as he parked in front of Hatcher’s cabin.
Hatcher bit the inside of his cheek. “Nothing. The case is done. If you’re ready to come back and want to work with me again, Bellows will find another place for her.”
“I do want to come back,” Wyatt said. “And of course I want to work with you.”
Hatcher clenched his jaw. “Really? ’Cause I know I let you down.”
Wyatt hissed between his teeth. “Get over yourself, Hatcher.”
Hatcher’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“You are not responsible for the entire world. First you blame yourself for Felicia’s abduction, then for me getting hurt.”
“But—”
“No buts. We were partners. You did your job, and I did mine. We both know the risks that come with it.”
Hatcher’s chest ached. Could he really let his guilt go?
“Besides,” Wyatt said on a dark chuckle, “I wasn’t talking about the job when I asked about Korine. I was talking about the two of you . . . the chemistry.”
It felt good, like old times, to be able to talk to his buddy. “I slept with her when I was doing the training at the bureau.”
Wyatt’s eyes widened.
“In fact, I was in bed with her when Felicia called to say she’d been taken.” Emotions made his voice hoarse. “That’s another reason I blamed myself.”
A tense second stretched between them. “Listen, man, maybe you crossed the line, but we both know your marriage to Felicia was over. That girl had problems. She wasn’t right for you.”
Hatcher stared at his empty ring finger.
“But Korine, she’s a different story. She’s tough and strong and . . . hot as hell.”
Hatcher couldn’t resist a smile. “Yeah, she is.”
“If you ask me—”
“I didn’t.”
Wyatt laughed again. “I’m going to speak my mind anyway. I should have done that when you told me about Felicia. The first time I met her, I knew she was trouble.”
Yet Hatcher had been snowed by her attention. Until it had become unhealthy.
Wyatt arched a brow. “Anyway, if you aren’t interested in Korine, then you won’t mind if I ask her out?”
Hatcher’s heart skipped a beat. “Who said I wasn’t interested?”
Wyatt punched him on the arm. “That’s what I thought. If you are, man, don’t let her get away. The good ones are hard to find. Especially ones who’ll put up with our line of work.”
Hatcher stewed over that comment as he climbed from the vehicle and went inside.
The scent of sweat and burned ashes permeated his skin, so he showered and pulled on a clean T-shirt and jeans.
Although it was way past midnight, he was too wired to sleep. Wyatt’s advice kept rolling around in his head.
He didn’t want to disturb Korine if she was sleeping, so he texted her with the update on the case, then snagged his keys. He didn’t know where he was going, but he ended up at the cemetery, standing over Felicia’s grave.
The night seemed still, eerily quiet, the pungent odor of dead flowers and dirt wafting around him. A thin stream of moonlight played across the grave, shimmering off the tombstone.
He usually saw Felicia when he came here. Her eyes glaring at him in shock and blame.
Where was she now?
“I’m sorry I failed you, Felicia,” he said softly. “I wish I could go back and change things, bring you back to life.”
The wind picked up, tossing leaves across the graves and making the flowers sway. A whisper of a voice calling his name echoed in the breeze and made him look up.
Felicia was there. This time so faint, her silhouette shimmering and fading and more ethereal than before.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
He expected the same angry, accusatory look, but slowly a vision of her hand lifting drifted through the darkness; then a soft smile spread on her face, and she blew him a kiss.
He blinked, certain he was seeing things wrong, but when he opened his eyes, she waved. Then a bright stream of light glowed from the heavens and surrounded her, and she was gone.
Hatcher’s chest pounded. So many times he’d seen her, thought she hated him, knew she was waiting to cross. But tonight, she’d looked at peace.
And she’d just said goodbye.
The guilt that had held him back slowly dissipated, and the hole in his heart filled with warmth.
Felicia had died too young.
He and Korine had almost died, too.
He pressed a kiss to his hand, then laid it on the tombstone. She was finally at rest.
His chest felt lighter, too.
His text beeped. Korine thanked him for the information. She was at home. She couldn’t sleep.
He climbed in his car, started the engine, and drove from the graveyard. He passed two of his favorite bars in Savannah, but this time he didn’t stop. He didn’t want a drink.
He knew exactly what he did want, though. And where he was going.
He pressed the accelerator. He couldn’t wait to get there.
Korine had poured a second glass of wine when a knock sounded. Hatcher had assured her that the case was over.
Still, nerves tightened her body as she rushed to the door and checked the peephole.
Hatcher.
Her pulse quickened.
God, he looked good.
Pulse hammering, she unlocked the door but forced herself not to reach for him when she desperately wanted to drag him into her arms. To hold him and never let him go.
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
His gruff voice sent a tingle of awareness through her. She gestured for him to come in.
“The case keeping you awake?” she asked, anxious to fill the silence.
His gaze met hers. Emotions mingled with heat, stirring her desires.
“No, you were.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Me?”
He nodded, then reached for her. “I couldn’t sleep until we talked.”
She held her breath, waiting, hoping this wasn’t goodbye. “I didn’t rat you out to Bellows, Hatcher. In fact, I told him that you were the best agent he had and that you’d come back stronger than before.”
Emotions flashed across his face and he shifted. “You did?”
She nodded. “I always tell the truth. I also realize Wyatt is about ready to come back—”
“This is not about Wyatt or the case or work at all. It’s about us.”
“Us?” she asked in a throaty whisper.
He nodded. “I don’t want to scare you off, but tonight when we were trapped and we almost died, I realized something.”
“We made it out alive, Hatcher. You don’t have to feel guilty—”
“I’m done with guilt, too.” His gaze darkened as he looked into her eyes. “I . . . I love you, Korine.”
A smile curved her lips, warmth spreading through her.
“If you don’t feel the same way—”
She pressed her finger to his lips to shush him. “I do.”
For a long heartbeat, they stared at each other, words unspoken dancing between them. Then Hatcher dragged her into his arms and closed his mouth over hers.
She kissed him with all her heart, pouring her love into it as his words reverberated in her ears. He loved her.
No promises yet. They’d have to talk about work. Being partners.
But somehow in the midst of murder and dead bodies, of family secrets and betrayals and the ghost of his dead wife, they’d found each other. And they’d found love.
That was all that mattered.