Chapter Eighteen
“You’re in another relationship,” Army said, sitting down beside Sangre at the bar. “You always get that stupid look on your face in the beginning.”
“Not in the mood, dude. Fuck off.” Sangre turned away from him.
“Again, so soon? Man, you are a glutton for punishment,” Crow added as he elbowed Army, who sniggered.
“Chains,” Sangre called out, ignoring Army and Crow.
“Yo,” Chains replied sauntering over.
“You got the real estate info?” Sangre asked.
“Yup. I got it in my room. Are you gonna be around for a while?”
“Nah. I’m going over to my parents’ for dinner. I can get it from you in the morning.”
“Are you staying the night at your mommy and daddy’s?” Army said in a little boy’s voice.
Sangre stood up and faced him. “I’ve had enough of your shit. You’re fuckin’ sick in the damn brain, dude. You should ask Breanna to recommend a good shrink. I’m trying to talk club business here, so either shut the fuck up, or I can do it for you.”
“He’s just joking around with you,” Crow said.
“I’m not in a joking mood.”
“I don’t know what the fuck’s your problem. You think it’s funny when we all rib the other guys about chicks. You never had a problem before when we’d tease you about any of the women you went out with. What gives?” Army popped some peanuts in his mouth.
“Just not up for it today. I don’t need to explain anything more to you.”
“He’s got a point. Some days you just want to smash anyone who even looks at you,” Crow said. “Let’s back off, dude.”
Army shrugged and turned his attention to the big screen television. “Fuck, yeah! This dude is a major power puncher.”
Sangre glanced at the TV and saw Anthony Joshua holding up his arms in the air while his opponent rolled on the boxing rink’s floor. “I’ll meet you in your room around noon to get the info,” he said, turning back to Chains. He guzzled the rest of his beer and went up to his bedroom to freshen up before he picked up Isla.
Isla. Everything about her enthralled him. He’d finally stopped fighting his attraction and his feelings for her. For a long time, one side of his brain battled the other, and his heart battled them both in turn. He kept pretending that he didn’t care, that they were just friends, that it was only lust, but after the last few days he’d spent with her, he knew that he did care for her in ways he never had for any other woman. Lust was there, of course, but it was more than that. The night before, he’d just held her close to him because she was so exhausted from recording. Just lying there and holding her had been more intimate than all the times he’d fucked his ex-girlfriends. Being with Isla showed him what he’d been missing all these years.
As he splashed on some cologne, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen when Isla went back to LA. He didn’t like the idea that the asshole she used to date was still around, but he’d watched her with Benz before anything even happened between him and Isla, and she hadn’t acted all that interested in the dude in that way.
Grabbing his keys from the dresser, he locked his door and went to the parking lot via the backyard. The last thing he wanted to hear was Army’s smart-assed remarks on how he smelled, which would definitely encourage the rest of the brothers to join in on the ribbing.
In less than twenty minutes he was in front of Isla’s house, having just told Mark that he was taking over. The two girls from next door waved at him and he nodded back. Their mother—What the hell was her name again?—yelled out a cheerful, “Hello,” as he walked up the porch steps. Isla answered the door before he rang the bell, and she looked sexy as hell in her floral sundress and strappy sandals. He went in and snagged her around the waist, wrapping her long hair in his hands then yanking it hard before he claimed her mouth. Her lips were pillow soft and full, and he took the bottom one between his teeth and sucked it while he pressed close to her, wanting her to feel his bulge.
“See what you do to me, babe?” he mumbled, smothered against her mouth.
“You do a lot to me too,” she said as her hands slipped under his muscle shirt, sliding along his taut ribcage to his back, her fingernails leaving marks on his skin.
“Oh yeah?” He glided his hand up her thigh underneath the short dress, twisting it between her legs until he cupped her mound. “Wet,” he said, slipping a finger inside her. His mouth covered hers as he rubbed her knotted nub.
She groaned and arched her body toward him, and he swallowed all of her moans as their mouths pressed together fiercely, their tongues tangling as fire shot through him.
“So fuckin’ wet, baby,” he whispered as his hand molded over one of her breasts through the soft fabric. Dipping his head, he pulled her hardened nipple into his mouth and sucked it through the material.
“Sangre,” she breathed as she clawed at his neck and pulled his hair. “Oh shit!” She shuddered as she fell against him, clinging to him.
He turned her around, and she automatically bent at the waist, put her hands against the ivory white wall, and spread her legs. He jerked up the dress to her waist and groaned when she moved her legs farther apart.
“You’re so sexy and beautiful,” he said raggedly. His black jeans pooled around the tops of his boots, and he sank his finger deep inside her. She bucked and pushed back, her ass rubbing against his stiff dick. He reached under the dress, his free hand skimming over her belly up to her tits. His fingers found her hard nipple straining against her bra, and he seized it and twisted it at the same time he spread her pussy lips with his free hand and plunged into her. The way her firm ass hit against him as she met his hard thrusts, and the noises she made while he fucked her, drove him over the edge, and he exploded, filling her with his warm seed.
She quickly followed as her forehead pressed against the wall and her body quivered. He held her close, sinking down to the floor like crumbling sand. The only sound was their heavy breathing and the scent of sex permeated the air. She curled next to him, and he entwined his fingers in her hair as he tried to regain his energy. Placing a finger under her chin, he tilted her head back and kissed her deeply.
“Fuck, honey. Just … fuck.” Smiling, he brushed away an eyelash from her cheek.
“Not bad.” Mischief danced in her hazel eyes.
“Oh yeah?” He started tickling her and she tried to push his hands, but he had her pinned down on her back, her face red as tears streamed down her cheeks. He’d never seen her more beautiful than at that moment. He seized her lips and kissed her passionately, and she looped her arms around his neck and returned the gesture. They stayed like that, kissing and touching each other, until a familiar ring tone broke through their sexual haze.
Pulling up his jeans a bit, he rummaged through the pockets and glanced at the screen. “Shit. It’s my mom. I bet we’re late.” He winked at her. “We’re on our way, Mom,” he said.
“Do you have car trouble?”
“No. I just lost track of the time. Sorry. We’ll be there soon.”
“I wanted you to have some time to mingle before dinner.”
“I know. See you soon.” He hung up and swatted her ass playfully. “We better get going, or my mom’s liable to send over the militia.”
“I have to freshen up,” Isla said as he helped her up. “You can use the bathroom off the second bedroom to clean up. I can’t believe I let you fuck me before going over to your parents’ house.”
“You gotta watch out for me. I’m a bad influence.” He followed her up the stairs and went into the bathroom.
Thirty minutes later, they pulled up in front of his parents’ house. He drove Isla’s car over, knowing that his mom wouldn’t let up on him for the whole night if he’d taken Isla on his bike. Anyway, her dress was too short, and he didn’t want to fight anyone who said something crude to her. If that had happened, they never would’ve made it for dinner.
Before they went inside, Isla stood on the sidewalk staring at the house next door. “It’s like I never left,” she murmured.
“Not much changes around here,” he said, clasping her hand in his.
“It’s about time,” his mother said, opening the screen door wide.
He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “I thought we were eating at five thirty.”
“I told you that I wanted you to have time to mingle,” she said in a soft voice. Turning her attention to Isla, she smiled. “Jordan. It’s been a long time. I don’t think I would’ve recognized you. Your hair is blue now.”
“Mom,” he said, pretending to be exasperated.
“Only in the sunlight and under bright lights. It’s nice seeing you, Mrs. Ansell.”
His mother looped her arm through Isla’s. “Call me, Diana. Mrs. Ansell makes me feel too old.” She laughed and led the singer into the house with Sangre following behind.
For the next hour, he watched as Isla held her own with his boisterous clan. Family gatherings got to be a bit much for him, so he was glad to see that she was having a good time.
“Steve, can you come into the kitchen, please.”
He jumped up and went to see what his mother wanted. “Need some help?”
“I would like you to take the prime rib out of the oven. It’s too heavy for me.” She handed him the pot holders. “Jordan’s grown into a very pretty girl. She seems to fit in nicely with the family.”
“Where do you want this?” He held the large roasting pan.
“Over there,” Diana pointed to the counter behind him. “Don’t you think Jordan’s a pretty woman?”
“Yeah. Did you want me to take the roast out of the pan?”
She handed a large platter and cutting board to him. “Put it on the cutting board then put the slices on the platter. I noticed you were holding her hand when you came up to the house.”
“Did you move the carving knife?” He stared at the empty space where the knife block used to be.
“It’s on the other counter. Do you like Jordan?”
He smiled at the deep frown crossing his mother’s brow. “Of course, I like her. We’re friends.”
“The way you were holding hands and looking at each didn’t appear like any friendship I ever had.”
Sangre put the knife down and looked at his mom. “Don’t try to marry us, okay? You do this all the time.”
“No, I don’t. You’ve only brought two girls over here and that includes when you were in high school. I just want you to be happy like your brother and sister. I’m pretty sure Connor’s going to ask Kayla to marry him. Don’t you want a family?”
“Someday, just not today. Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m cool.”
“Are you going to live at that clubhouse your whole life? Don’t you want your own home?”
“I thought I’d come in and save you,” Nicole said as she walked into the kitchen. “You’ve been in here too long, and I saw the way Mom looked at Jordan.”
He winked at his sister. “I owe you.”
“You two.” Diana shook her head and handed a large bowl piled with mashed potatoes to Nicole. “Put this on the table. I don’t see Steve very often.”
“She changed her name to Isla,” he said to Nicole as she walked toward the kitchen door. “She really doesn’t want people calling her Jordan anymore.” Nicole nodded then left the room. “And that goes for you too, Mom.”
“If I can remember. Anyway, don’t you want your own place?”
“Someday.” He picked up the platter and went into the dining room.
During dinner, the chatter of adults and children filled the room, and Sangre kept darting his eyes to Isla, making sure she wasn’t overwhelmed. She wasn’t. Her face glowed under the lights and candles, and her hands waved around as she spoke about her music and the band. One of the things he always thought was endearing about Isla was how animated she’d become whenever she referred to anything that she felt passionate about. Music’s her life. She could never give it up. He didn’t know why that thought pushed into his brain, but he knew the music scene wasn’t in Alina.
“The food is so good, Diana,” Isla said, and his mother beamed.
“How did you like Stephanie’s appetizers?” Sangre asked, inwardly smiling when his mother threw him a scolding look.
“They were really good.” Isla speared another piece of roast beef with her fork.
“Did you hear about Carrie Nolan?” Rachel asked.
Sangre put his utensils down. “What about her?”
“She was found murdered in her car by that remote warehouse off the old highway near Gilmore. The police think it happened last night.”
Sangre heard Isla gasp then she sputtered and began coughing. He handed her a glass of water and rubbed her back. “Are you all right?” he said in a low voice.
“Rachel! Why would you bring something like that up at dinner? That’s not a good topic of conversation, especially with the children.”
“Your mother’s right,” Martin Ansell said.
“I’m sorry. I just thought Isla might know her since they were in the same grade at Jefferson.” Rachel looked down at her plate.
Isla, pale as a winter’s moon, dabbed her face with her napkin. “I didn’t know her. I remember seeing her in the halls, but we weren’t friends. This is awful. Horrible. Do they have any idea who did it?”
Rachel flitted her eyes from Diana to Martin, and then looked right at Isla. “No clue, or at least they’re not saying. She’s the fourth woman to die in less than a year. I’d say there’s a serial killer in Alina.”
“For Christ’s sake, Rachel,” Nicole said.
“Enough of this conversation. Can’t you see how upset Isla is?” Diana pressed her lips together.
“It does seem like the same person is doing these killings,” Tom said.
“Now, don’t you start,” Diana chided her eldest son.
Sangre slipped his hand under the table and placed it on Isla’s thigh, massaging it gently. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to go out for some fresh air?”
She placed her hand on top of his. “I’m okay. It’s just shocking and kind of freaky.”
It’s more than freaky. The fuckin’ psycho is killing women on some arbitrary list he made, and I know Isla’s on it. Who’s this fucker?
For the rest of the dinner, the conversation centered on lighthearted topics, and everyone had a lot of questions for Isla about LA, spotting movie stars, and touring with four men in a van for months.
After the women cleared the table and washed the dishes, Sangre stood up and went over to his parents. “We’re gonna take off. I have to be at the office early in the morning.”
“She looks so pale. I could kill your sister for bringing up what happened to that poor woman. She frightened Jordan half to death.”
“She’ll be all right. She’s just tired from recording and practicing.” She is scared to death. I have to make sure she stays safe. I gotta find out who this fucker is.
Isla came over and leaned against him. He bent down and kissed the top of her head, and from his peripheral vision he saw his mother beam and Nicole and Rachel whisper to each other. “I’ll come by during the week to help you with the deck, Dad.”
“I almost forgot,” Diana said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I have a box for you to take home. It’s the stuff that was in the corner of the closet in your old room.”
“You still had all that shit?” Sangre said.
“Yes. I still had all that stuff. I’m turning it into a craft and design room.” Diana and Rachel were co-owners of the Sweet Spot Bakery, and Diana was the one who designed most of the cakes and cupcakes.
“My old room’s gonna be a craft room? What are your plans for Tom’s room?”
“Pool table and wet bar,” Martin said, coming over to the door.
“Here you go,” Tom said, handing a large box to Sangre.
On the way back to Isla’s house, she sat mute, staring out the passenger window. Sangre stroked the side of her face. “I know you’re freaked out.”
“Whoever this madman is, he’s coming for me. I feel it. The sheriff told me that I’m one of the five girls from Jefferson that the killer seems to want to hurt.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Four are dead. I’m the last one still alive,” she said softly.
“There’s no fuckin’ way I’m gonna let anything happen to you.”
“If I go back to LA, I’ll be safe. I didn’t have this shit in LA. Some damn psycho wants to kill me, and I don’t even know why.”
“If he’s intent on doing it, he’ll find you in LA. I’m gonna try and figure this out. I’ll ask my club to help. In the meantime, you’re with me.”
“You can’t be with me twenty-four seven. That’s not realistic.”
“I have the top guards watching you. They’ll be going everywhere with you even if you don’t want them to: like at the gym, the recording studio, practice, every fuckin’ place. Do you have any idea who’d want to hurt you from high school?”
“No. I’ve wracked my brain over and over, but I just can’t come up with anyone. So much has happened to me that high school seems like a lifetime ago.”
“Is your band trustworthy?”
“You mean my bandmates? Of course. Definitely. Absolutely. Anyway, they don’t even know the women who were killed.”
“Maybe the women were just decoys to get to you.”
“Don’t say that. I’d feel awful if I was responsible for their deaths. I just can’t believe this is happening,” she said, her voice hitching.
“I’ll keep you safe. I’ve got your back, honey. There’s no way I’m letting anyone hurt you.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
When he pulled into the driveway, his senses were on high alert as his eyes scanned the area. He closed the garage door while they were still in the car. “Make sure you close the door while you still have the car in gear. It’s just a precaution.”
They went into the house, and she disarmed the alarm then set it again right away.
“I’m gonna check around the house. You hang in the living room.” He slipped his hand inside his cut and took out a gun.
“You carry a gun?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Yeah. I left it in the trunk when I was at my parents’. In my world, you can never be too sure about what’s going to happen from one minute to the next. I’ll be back.”
After a thorough check of the whole house, he climbed the basement stairs then froze when he heard Isla scream. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he raced up the rest of the way and dashed into the living room, gun in hand.
She sat on the couch, her face a mask of fear, a piece of paper on the rug by her feet.
“What the fuck’s wrong?” he asked, sprinting to her. He bent down and picked up the paper. He saw an envelope on the coffee table addressed to her.
“I found it on the floor under my mail box. He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die,” she muttered.
He pulled her to him and wound his arms around her trembling body. “I’m never gonna let that happen. You have to trust and believe in me. Okay? Do you trust me that I’ve got your back? Look at me.” He pushed her away slightly and cupped her face between his hands. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. I do,” she whispered. “Oh, Sangre.” Isla smiled weakly and put her hands on his thighs, and he crushed her to him, rocking her back and forth until she stopped shaking and relaxed in his arms.
As she sat pressed to his side, her head resting on his chest, he looked at the letter.
I see you. I watch your every move.
I know your daily routine. Where you go.
I stalk from behind the trees, the rocks.
I lurk in the darkness. Face hidden. Knife gripped tight.
I’m your shadow … your constant companion.
No one can save you.
I creep closer and closer. Waiting for the kill.
If I can’t have you, nobody will.
♥♥♥Your Best Fan♥♥♥
Anger seared his nerves, curled tightly around his muscles, and bubbled under his skin; it was like acid—burning, slicing, potent. I’ve got to find this psycho and give him everything he’s given to Isla and the other women. I need to talk to Steel, Paco, and Diablo tomorrow.
“Isn’t that creepy? This is the worst one yet.” Isla said in a hushed voice.
“He’s a fuckin’ bully who gets off on scaring you.”
“But he’s killed four other women.”
“You don’t know if it’s the same person. It could be someone obsessed with you who wants you to believe he’s the killer.” I don’t believe that shit one bit, but I’ve got to ease her mind.
She sat upright. “I never thought of that. That actually makes sense. Should I show the letter to the sheriff?”
“No harm in doing it. I’ll go with you in the morning.” He brushed his lips across hers. “We should get some sleep.”
After turning the lights off on the main floor, they went up to her room. As she washed up, Sangre stood by the window looking out at the street. The neighborhood was quiet, and all the houses were dark. Are you out there, motherfucker? He stared at the trees in front of her house and the ones in front of the neighbors’, but he couldn’t see anything. It was quiet as a graveyard.
“See anything?” Isla asked.
Giving the street one last look, he closed the shutters and moved away from the window. “You live in a quiet neighborhood.” He went over to the bed and stripped off everything except his boxers then slid between the sheets.
“That’s why I love it here.” She joined him under the covers.
He tugged her to him and held her close. She snuggled deeper into him, and he lightly ran his hand up and down her arm, smiling when he felt her skin pebble underneath his fingertips.
“I feel so safe in your arms,” she whispered.
He squeezed her tight and kissed her hair. Her breathing deepened as she fell asleep. Staring up at the ceiling, he knew sleep wouldn’t come as easily for him. Thoughts whirled around in his mind: Isla, Carrie Nolan’s murder, the threatening letter, Jefferson High, the killer. He couldn’t let her get hurt. They’d finally found each other after all those years apart. He couldn’t lose her.
All at once, she had become someone very special to him.
And he meant to keep it that way.