CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The greater the suffering, the more powerful the lesson.
San Antonio, Texas
Thursday, November 30, 8:00 p.m.
Mazur parked in front of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice offices on Guadalupe Street. He’d placed a call to Bauldry’s parole officer and asked him to meet Mazur and Kate at his offices. The parole officer had yet to cross paths with Mazur and at first had not been anxious to drive back for the meeting. Mazur had done his best to cajole, but when that didn’t seem to work, he’d threatened to send a uniform by his house and have him brought in.
“Let’s see if his parole officer has any insights into where this son of a bitch is hiding.”
Moonlight mingled with the lights from streetlamps illuminating the one-level building with the red clay mission tiles. “My guess is this man will have only nice things to say about William, who would not mess up his shot at freedom.”
“We shall see.”
Out of the car, the two walked to the central entrance. Mazur twisted the handle and opened the door. There was an empty reception desk and beyond it a long hallway. “Mr. Dickerson!” Mazur shouted.
A tall, burly Texan wearing jeans and a flannel shirt appeared out of the back office. He had short hair, wide-set eyes, and a dark mustache that made an otherwise forgettable face memorable. “You Theo Mazur?”
“That’s right. And this is Dr. Hayden with the FBI.”
“I pulled William Bauldry’s file after we spoke.” He motioned them into a small plain office decorated only with a metal desk, a couple of chairs, and diplomas from the University of Texas. “Honestly, I was surprised when you called, Detective Mazur.” He motioned for the two to take the seats in front of his desk before he settled his large frame in his chair.
“Why’s that?”
“I just saw William last Tuesday. We had a good visit.”
“How so?” Kate asked.
“He mentioned he was excited about the future. He said his life was coming together.” Dickerson pulled readers from his front pocket and put them on before flipping open the thin file centered on his desk. “He’s been out of prison eleven months now and so far has not missed one meeting with me. He’s never been late, and every time I do a spot drug test, he’s clean. I wish all my parolees were like him.”
Kate shifted. “He can be quite charming.”
Dickerson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands. “There’s no crime in that.”
“No, but he uses his charm to manipulate people.”
“I recognize your name,” Dickerson said. “From William’s file.”
She sat ramrod straight with no emotion changing her features.
“He spoke about you several times,” Dickerson said. “He expressed tremendous guilt over shooting you and your father.”
“Did he?”
“He had mental-health issues. But the right meds have balanced him out.”
“I don’t agree,” she said. “I think he might have brutally killed two women in the last week.”
Dickerson yanked off his glasses. “You sure we’re talking about the same man?”
Mazur shook his head. “Where do you think William would go?”
“I can give you his current address. He also has a brother in town.”
“We’ve been to both places,” Mazur said. “Anywhere else?”
Dickerson scratched the side of his head. “He’s from a wealthy family. Hell, he could be anywhere.”
“Did he mention anyplace that he liked to visit?” Kate asked. “Anyplace that brought back good memories?”
“He’s a smart man,” Dickerson said. “Why would he tell me?”
“Sometimes the truth slips out. Profilers call it leakage,” she said.
Dickerson sat back, expelling a breath. “He liked to talk about fishing. He said he loved to fish.”
“Did he say where?” Mazur asked.
“Never said where, but once he said he had to hustle if he wanted to make it to his pond before sunset. It was spring and about six in the evening. There couldn’t have been more than an hour or hour and a half of daylight left.”
Mazur flexed his fingers. “Anything else?”
“Not like we had a lot of time to chat. I’ve one hell of a caseload, and when I realized he was doing well, I never held him long.”
Mazur handed him his card. “When is he due in next?”
“Five days.”
Kate shook her head. “He’s not coming back.”
“How do you know that?” Dickerson said. “He never missed once.”
“He’s finished with the charade,” Kate said. “He’s doing now what he’s been planning to do for a long time. Dickerson, call me if you think of anything else or if he contacts you?”
Mazur heard the trepidation in her voice, and it tore at him that he couldn’t find this son of a bitch for her. She protected people from the monsters, but who protected her?
He dialed Detective Santos as they stepped out of Dickerson’s office. Santos picked up on the fourth ring. “Santos? This is Mazur.”
“Yep.”
“You know this area of Texas well, correct?”
“I do.”
“Good. Palmer is doing a record search of properties owned by William Bauldry. Have a look at the list and tell her which properties might have ponds suitable for fishing.”
“She doesn’t need my help.”
Mazur gripped the phone. “Help Palmer, or I swear I’ll do more to you than piss in your coffee mug.”
Kate couldn’t shake the image of William sitting calmly by a pond, fishing, while she scrambled to find him. As they were walking back to Mazur’s car, his cell rang. “Calhoun, what do you have?” He put it on speaker so Kate could hear.
“The quick DNA test of the semen found in Gloria Sanchez showed it belonged to Martin Sanchez.”
“I assumed they weren’t sexually active,” Mazur said. “What about the DNA found in the condom in Rebecca Kendrick’s apartment?”
“Also Martin Sanchez. Guy gets around.”
“What about the hair samples that the medical examiner found on Gloria?” Kate asked.
“State lab is testing DNA now. I also pulled additional strands from her blouse. Thanks to the high-profile nature of the case, you might have results within a week.”
“A week?” Kate asked.
“Light speed in my world,” Calhoun said. “Also, there were similar hair fibers found on Rebecca Kendrick. I looked at hair samples from both victims, and they’re very similar. Again, a wait-and-see until the lab gets back to me.”
“Thanks, Calhoun,” Mazur said.
“Sure thing.”
He hung up. “The clock is running out. A week is going to be too late.”
“If William is our killer, then he has a very short cooling-off period.”
Many serial killers took breaks between murders. Some could only wait weeks or months, while others could wait years. He moved his jaw from side to side. “Right.”
Her cell rang. It was Agent Nevada. She pressed the phone to her ear. “Tell me you have good news.”
“Kate.” His voice sounded heavy with fatigue.
That tone never boded well. “Where are you?”
“About a hundred miles from you.” Silence rose up between them.
She closed her eyes. “What happened?”
“Sara Fletcher committed suicide. She got hold of a pair of scissors and cut her wrists.”
“What?”
“The staff thought she was improving. According to her nurse she ate a decent meal and then settled back into her pillows as if she’d turned a corner.”
This kind of relief wasn’t uncommon before suicides. Knowing death was close gave the troubled a sense of peace because they knew their suffering would soon end.
She could have discussed the whys of this girl killing herself, but right now she didn’t care about the reasons. Sadness and despair washed over her.
Nevada cleared his throat. “She left a note for you.”
She swallowed hard, not trusting her voice for several seconds. “What did it say?”
Silence hovered for a moment. “She said, ‘Tell Agent Kate it’s not her fault, but I can’t live with the monsters anymore.’”
Her chest tightened, and unshed tears clogged her throat as her gaze dropped to the Wonder Woman bracelet around her wrist. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. I’m sorry, Kate.”
Mazur was staring at her, very aware that something was wrong.
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Right.”
Ending the call, she carefully slid the phone in her pocket and glanced at the bracelet on her wrist. “Sara Fletcher killed herself.”
Mazur swore. “It’s time for a break.”
“I’m fine,” Kate said. Tears welled in her eyes, and one spilled down her cheek. She sniffed and wiped it away with her knuckle.
“No. We’re calling it a night. I’m taking you back to your mother’s.”
She sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. “I can’t just stop.”
“I’ll make calls and get a few of the detectives out there searching for this property. I don’t think he’s going to be found until he wants to be found.”
When William arrived at the church, the secretary told him the cops had been there asking about Rebecca. Barely two days since he’d stabbed Rebecca, and Katie was here. He’d expected Kate to figure this all out, but not quite so soon. He would have to step up his game. Clever girl.
“I told them you couldn’t have done this,” Mrs. Lawrence said. “They told me to call them when I saw you.”
He smiled gently down at her. “It’s a misunderstanding.”
“I knew it,” she said smiling. “You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lawrence.”
“They told me Rebecca is dead?”
He nodded. “I know. It’s terrible.”
“She wasn’t a perfect woman, but Rebecca wanted to be a better person.”
If only Rebecca had been more loyal to the people who had helped her most. “It’s a terrible tragedy.”
“What should I do about the police?”
He smiled. “You will have to do what you think is best. Now I have to see the priest.”
She frowned. “Of course.”
William ducked into the confessional and waited a few minutes before the small door separating his booth from the priest’s opened. Though the screen was supposed to hide the identity of the penitents and the priest, he always knew who sat on the other side as soon as they spoke.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” William said.
“How can I help you, my son?”
The faint New York accent gave Father Tim away immediately. Young and idealistic, he believed prayer really was effective.
William cleared his throat. “It has been five days since my last confession. I have been having impure thoughts about a woman from my past.”
“I see.”
“The woman I’m thinking about is Katie.”
“Katie?”
“I love her.”
Silence emanated from the priest’s side. “I understand police were here asking for you.”
Just as he’d recognized Father Tim, the priest had recognized him. “I know.”
“Can you help the police with Rebecca?”
“No. I can’t help them at all.”
Kate knew her detached silence troubled Mazur as he drove to her mother’s house. She knew she looked pale, exhausted, and heartsick. But as much as she wanted to pretend she could handle this one alone, at this moment she could not.
He walked her up to the front door. “You need a good night’s sleep.”
She unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. He followed her inside, and then checked each room and closet before joining her in the main room.
For a moment she was quiet, doing her best not to allow her gaze to roam over him. She liked looking at him and wondered what it would feel like to touch him. “Do you want to stay?”
“Stay?”
She took his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb against the calluses on his palm. “I’d like you to stay.”
He angled his head as he closed his fingers over hers. “I know words are your thing, but I want you to tell me exactly what you want.”
She cleared her throat, more nervous than she had been in a long time. She’d been around Mazur enough the last few days to know he liked her. She’d noticed the way his gaze lingered an extra breath on her body. She took a half step toward him. Inches separated them. “In our line of work we deal with death.” She hesitated, wondering why words, which were always her ally, had abandoned her.
A smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Tongue-tied?”
She cleared her throat. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her body tingled with anticipation. “Sex is one of the few ways to really feel alive.”
“I’ve heard that.” His tone had dropped and his smile vanished.
Kate shifted and drew in a breath. “I know I can be quirky. And I’m not very good with people.” And then before she had a chance to change her mind, she said, “I’d like to have sex with you.”
He stood still, staring. His gaze didn’t waver, and he didn’t speak. Her heart tripped, and she feared if they didn’t enjoy each other in this precious pocket of free time, she’d return to her life and he to his and that would be that.
And then he cupped her face in his hands, angled his head, and kissed her. Her lips parted, and he very expertly slid his tongue into her mouth. Her body warmed to him instantly, and rising on tiptoe she wrapped her arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he banded his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.
When he broke the kiss, she was breathless, excited, and afraid of how much she wanted not just the sex or temporary escape, but him. Her chest was tight with desire, and even if she could have pulled in a breath to speak, the words had now abandoned her.
He studied her face closely as if trying to read her thoughts. He rubbed his finger along her jawline. “You sure about this?”
She drew in a breath, savoring the thrill that shot through her body. “Yes.”
He cupped her face with his hands and carefully traced the scar on her face with his thumb. Her work brought her so close to evil that she’d forgotten a touch could be soft and gentle. She could almost believe in happy endings and good winning out over evil. The reality of life would remind her of life’s bitter truths, but for now, she had the illusion of hope.
He tipped his head forward and lightly kissed her on the lips. Again, he traced the scar on her face with the edge of his thumb. The utter gentleness nearly made her flinch, and if she had not wanted to forget the darkness so badly, she’d have pulled away.
She pressed her palms to his chest and slid her hand under the folds of his jacket so that she could feel his heartbeat. It was steady, even. She rose up on tiptoes and deepened their kiss, promising a passion that went beyond gentle lovemaking.
She wasn’t interested in polite right now. She wanted her body to explode with wanting and desire so intense that the world would vanish for a little while.
Her breasts rubbed against his chest as he banded his arms around her narrow waist. His heartbeat jumped. His erection hardened and pressed against her.
He broke the kiss and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“You’re reacting to the news.”
“That’s part of it.” She kissed him again. “I’ve had too many days like this and too many nights spent alone. Not tonight. Can’t we just enjoy each other? I won’t get weird about it later.”
His brow wrinkled as he studied her, and then shaking his head as if this was all against his better judgment, he kissed her. This time the touch wasn’t gentle or tentative—urgency vibrated as his hands slid from her shoulder to her breast. He palmed the soft flesh, making her nipples harden.
She shrugged off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. “There’s a room down the hallway.”
He glanced down the hallway. “Not the room you lived in as a kid.”
She chuckled. “No. A spare room. Neutral territory.”
He arched a brow. “And you’re sure about your mother not coming home?”
A playfulness she’d not felt in so long bubbled. “When’s the last time you asked that question?”
“Too long ago.” A wry grin twisted his lips. “And I can’t believe at thirty-nine I just asked it.”
She took him by the hand and led him down the hallway to the room at the back. Her mother always kept this room for anyone who happened to visit.
Kate pushed open the door. She didn’t switch on the light, preferring the moonlight that leaked in through the blinds.
Mazur shrugged off his jacket and laid it on a chair across from the bed. Slowly he unknotted his tie, tugging it back and forth until it loosened. She kicked off her shoes, amazed at how much she wanted and anticipated this.
As she reached for the top button on her blouse, he shook his head.
He looked as if he had all the patience in the world. “No. I want to do that.”
Her heart jumped. But she let her hand fall to her side, and she slowly walked toward him. He reached for the top button and slid it free. He went to the second and then the third. The V of the blouse now showed the full swell of her breasts peeking over what was a very plain and practical bra. She never took time for clothes beyond what was utilitarian. Normally it didn’t matter, but now it did. She wanted him to desire her as much as she now wanted him.
He ran his finger along the shoulder strap. “Did the FBI issue this?”
She smiled. “Wait until you see the panties.”
The smile faded from his eyes as fire kindled behind his gaze. “I can’t wait.”
He unfastened all the buttons on her blouse and slid it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor by her feet. He ran a calloused thumb along the bra strap and over the swell of her breasts, then reached for the clasp between her breasts. With a small click it unhooked and she spilled free.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her breasts and then suckled her nipples. Somehow she shrugged out of the bra, and it too fell. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, the darkness filled with the cries of the victims begging her for help. She tried to push back, but the screams grew louder, threatening to override her sexual excitement.
“Open your eyes,” Mazur said. “It’s just you and me here. No one else. No one.”
She found him staring right at her with an intensity that allowed her to believe that it was just the two of them. There was nothing else. Only them. Only now.
Each removed their sidearms. She placed hers on the nightstand on the right side of the bed. Without a word, he laid his on the left nightstand, along with his cuffs and phone.
When he came back around the bed, she reached for the buttons of his shirt, and he let her slowly unfasten each as he caressed her breasts with one hand and skimmed his other along the waistband of her pants.
She fumbled with one button, and it took her a couple of tries to get it free. He grinned as he watched her clumsy attempts.
“Am I making you nervous?” he teased.
“Yes.”
She pulled off his shirt. He then tugged off his undershirt, revealing a small gold crucifix that dangled from a chain. She traced the crucifix with her finger, wondering if he were religious or just too superstitious to ignore it.
He had a lovely chest. Firm. Covered in a mat of dark hair that tapered to his narrow waist.
He reached for his belt buckle, and she reached for hers. He slid off his pants with no hesitation, but she paused.
“Let me see you,” he said as he now stood naked before her.
She drew in a breath and slowly unhooked the waistband of her pants. He brushed her hands aside and slowly slid her pants over her hips.
“Let me. I can’t wait to see the FBI panties. Do they have a logo?”
Heart hammering in her chest, she sucked in a breath. “Of course.”
His brow rose as her pants fell to her ankles. He stared at the white cotton panties and brushed his finger over the front panel. He then traced his finger along the front. “Where’s the logo?”
She moistened her lips. “I might have exaggerated.”
He pushed the slip of cotton to her ankles, and she stepped out and put her hands on his waist.
The teasing had allowed her to momentarily forget the jagged scar that ran along her thigh. It was raised and pink.
He studied it, not seeming to be repulsed, but curious.
“He shot me twice,” she whispered, unwilling to say the other’s name for fear it would shatter all this.
He kissed the scar. “It’s part of you, and I like what I see.”
He guided her toward the bed and jerked back the comforter before pressing her into the crisp white sheets. She scooted to the center, and within seconds he was beside her running his palm over her flat belly and to the nest of curls at her moist center.
“Wet,” he said. “That for me?”
She gulped in air and nodded, unable to articulate a word.
“Good.”
He rubbed gentle circles, and she hissed in a breath as she fell back against the pillows. The sensations shot down to her core and grew quickly into a white-hot need that shoved her toward climax. But just as she was about to come, he drew his hand away.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.”
He smoothed his hand up and down her leg and cupped her buttocks. He kissed her breasts, licking and teasing her nipples until they were hard peaks.
She tensed and slid her hand down along his belly until her fingers touched his erection. She wrapped her hand around him, enjoying the ripple of tension that swept over his muscles. If he wanted to torture her with excitement, she would do the same to him.
He paused and allowed her to move her hand up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back, groaning as she teased the tip of his erection.
He pulled back, leaned down, and kissed her on her thigh. He began to lick her center. A whimper escaped her lips, and she knew she would not be able to hold off her orgasm much longer.
As if sensing this, he climbed on top of her, careful not to rest his full weight on her. His erection rested against her center, but he made no move to enter. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed each of her breasts and then slowly pressed more kisses along her belly. She nibbled her bottom lip, anticipating what would come next, but he pressed those lips to the scar on her thigh.
She was barely hanging on.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and kissed her lips, then trailed his lips down her throat and over her breasts. He suckled each nipple until they were hard peaks. His hand trailed along her thigh as he straddled her. Their gazes locked as he entered her.
She wrapped her hands around his hips and pulled him toward her. He pushed inside of her, stretching her tight body and making her savor every sensation that was exploding in her body.
He moved inside her, slowly at first. Her breath quickened, and a whimper escaped over her lips. Her hand slid to her breast, and she squeezed the tender flesh. Desire and need swirled and collided around her until this time her body exploded with sensations.
Kate arched, and grabbing her breast tighter, let out a moan. He pushed hard once, twice, and then his body shuddered as he found his own release.
Mazur didn’t move immediately. He smoothed his hand over her ass, next cupping her breasts as his breath slowed. Finally he dropped into the spot beside her on the bed, curling close. He draped his arm over her body.
Without thinking she laid her hand over his. She was content to stay as she was and allow this moment to linger as long as it could. Mazur also seemed to be in no rush to end this moment. The two drifted toward sleep.
Kate ran toward the open field, the tracking hounds and police officers right behind her. The cool air burned in her chest and her side ached from the running, but she kept moving, pushing through the tall grass toward the outbuilding.
Inside the shed was the wooden box. Inside the box was Sara Fletcher. Naked and trembling, her pale body was desperately thin and skin raw with sores. Her hair was matted and twisted.
Sara didn’t open her eyes immediately, and her hands covered her face. When Kate touched her, she screamed and jerked away.
“It’s okay, Sara. I’m with the FBI. You’re safe.”
“I’m not safe,” she said. “I’m alive, but really I’m already dead. He killed me. And he’s going to kill you, too.”
Kate startled awake, her gut tight with regret, loss, and shame. Shadows slashed across the unfamiliar room, and for several beats she didn’t know where she was.
She’d not been good enough to save Sara.
Mazur roused. “You okay?”
The sex with Mazur had been great, but it had been a temporary fix to the problems she faced. As soon as they left this house, the hunt for William and Drexler would take over her life again. “Yes, I’m fine.”
He smoothed his hand over her back, and she flinched. He stopped rubbing but didn’t remove his hand from her skin. “Is this your idea of not getting weird?”
The sound of his voice and his touch settled her and chased away the doubts and regrets. “What do you mean?”
“You said you’d not get weird after sex. Withdrawing into yourself might be a little weird.”
She sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “Sorry. It’s the safest place I know.”
“Is it? Judging by what woke you up, I’d say differently.”
“I can control it.”
“Really? Even nightmares?”
She glanced toward him. The cross on the gold chain around his neck dangled. “You sound like a psychologist.”
“Aren’t all cops part shrink?”
“Yes.”
“What was the nightmare about?”
Absently her fingertips went to the worn toy bracelet around her wrist. She wouldn’t be a coward now. Not in light of what Sara had suffered. “I was dreaming about the day we found Sara. As long as I live I’ll never forget her. She didn’t look human. But I wanted to believe that we had made it in time and that she would be all right.”
“Sometimes victims can’t be put back together again. No matter how hard we try.”
“I’m supposed to be so smart. I wasn’t good enough to find Sara Fletcher faster.”
“You did what no one else could do. You found her.”
“But it wasn’t enough.” She wanted to fly back to the funeral and pay her respects, but right now she felt too ashamed.
He rubbed his hand over her leg. It wasn’t sexual but an absent, familiar thing lovers did. And oddly, more personal than sex. She stiffened, uncomfortable with a touch that felt so intimate.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It feels too personal.”
“And personal never ends well, does it?” There was a bitter bite to the last word.
“No, it doesn’t.” She looked down at his hand brushing her scar. “People like us don’t get happy endings.”
“Why not?”
“We see too much. It ruins us for the normal people in the world who don’t believe in monsters.”
“Maybe.” He ran his hand up her thigh. “Maybe we should stick to our own kind.”
She glanced toward the digital clock behind him. They’d slept for an hour. Soon they’d have to be back to work, but for now, they still had a pocket of time that was all their own.
She slowly climbed on top of him. This time she straddled him, and just a few strokes of her fingertips against the tip of his penis and he was hard and ready.
The last time he’d teased her. Now it was her turn to taunt him just a little. She lowered her lips to the tip of his erection and then took all of him into her mouth and throat. He hissed in a breath and ran his fingers through her hair.
“Jesus, for someone who comes across as repressed, you sure aren’t.”
She licked her tongue around his shaft, kissing and teasing. “We all have a hidden side.”
She saw his belly twitch and the muscles in his neck strain. She released him and positioned herself on top. Slowly, very slowly, she lowered onto him, filling herself and capturing him.
She moved up and down, cupping her breast.
“One hell of a hidden side,” he groaned.
Rage filled William as he sat by the monitor and watched Kate whore herself out to that cop. “Why are you cheating on me?” he shouted.
He’d not liked Mazur from the moment the cop had set foot on his property. He’d watched from a closed-circuit television as his housekeeper had sent them away. Even then, he’d considered the cop a trespasser.
Now the cop was more than an annoyance. He was a threat. A thief. An intruder who endangered seventeen years of planning.
“Steal from me, and I’ll take twofold from you, Detective Mazur.”
He reached for one of the cells he’d bought with cash from a box store. He dialed the one number he cared about now.
Drexler’s voice was groggy when he answered the phone. “What the fuck do you want?”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“I haven’t been drinking.”
“Don’t lie to me. I cannot save you if you lie.”
“A few. But I didn’t get drunk. Half the case you brought is still unopened.”
He still sounded as if he were drunk. “Make yourself coffee and take a hot shower. We have work to do.”
“What kind of work? You said to lay low. To stay out of sight.”
“I thought you wanted to build another box?”
He hesitated. “I do. But you said I had to wait.”
“Well, time’s up.”
He cleared his throat, and bed springs squeaked. “Why the hell should I trust you?”
“I’m feeding you. And if I’d wanted, I could have called the cops, but I haven’t. I’m the closest person you have to a best friend right now. If you want me to bail and drop a dime on you, say the word. Otherwise, stop acting like a little bitch.”
“Okay. Okay. I get it.”
“Goddamn right, you got it. Right now you need to shower, shave, and change into the clothes I left for you in the room.”
“And then we get to go hunting?”
“Oh yes.” William turned to a stack of photographs he’d taken of Isabella. He traced the line of her jaw in a picture he’d snapped while she was shopping at a local boutique. She was supposed to be next on his list. It was important to stick to the plan, but strategies sometimes required modifications.
He shifted to a computer screen and pulled up a picture he’d taken today. These pictures were of the lovely Alyssa. She was younger than he preferred, but he would make an exception.
He traced his thumb over the outline of her smiling lips. “You’re going to like this one, Mr. Drexler. She’s just your type.”