Keep Me Safe

this case, less is more. We don’t want to draw too much attention and if we’re moving a dozen security specialists along with Eliza and me, plus you and Ramie, we’re going to get noticed,” Dane said.

Caleb remained silent a moment as he contemplated the situation they were in. He trusted Dane’s judgment and Eliza’s too for that matter. And up until now he would have said that he had absolute confidence in their abilities to protect.

But it had never been personal before. Only with Tori did he assign someone other than himself or Quinn or Beau and even then he’d only trusted Dane and Eliza. Tori didn’t go out much at all, so she was never in a position to need more than minimal protection. He frowned, realizing just how little Tori had left the house in the year since her abduction and rape.

The million-dollar question was whether he trusted his multimillion-dollar team of security experts, all versed in personal protection and services, or a bodyguard to keep Ramie safe at all costs.

He could drive himself crazy with second-guessing himself. He locked gazes with Eliza, who coolly returned his, completely unruffled by his apparent hesitation.

Fuck it. He’d made damn certain he and his brothers hired the best. Beau had overseen most of the hiring, although no decision was made until Caleb and Quinn both signed off on it.

“You’re taking lead on this, Dane and Eliza,” he said, including them both in his address. He’d never offer Eliza the disrespect of placing Dane above her. She was every bit as capable and cool under fire as Dane was. They made an excellent team and they were both natural leaders.

“I’m trusting you both to make sure nothing touches Ramie,” he said in a low voice. “Take on whatever you think you’ll need. This is why I pay my employees a salary instead of doing contract work. I don’t want guys who do a side job for extra money. I want unwavering loyalty and for them to be here whenever and however I call them out for a job.”

“She’ll be safe,” Dane said.

Though he directed his statement toward Caleb, he was looking at Ramie the entire time as if trying to offer her the same reassurance he was granting Caleb.

Ramie nodded her acknowledgment of his promise but she swallowed noticeably and she still trembled against him.

“How soon?” Caleb asked.

“Now,” Dane replied. “Detective Briggs wants us to meet him and Detective Ramirez there. It’ll buy us a little more time. Not much but it could be all we need. Nobody in the department is thrilled with having civilians on an unprocessed crime scene but at this point they’re willing to exhaust all available options.”

Left unsaid was the fact that they most likely had doubts about the validity of Ramie’s abilities even if the two detectives who’d visited Caleb’s home had witnessed Ramie’s accuracy in locating the body.

Detectives Briggs and Ramirez likely did believe Ramie’s capabilities but they were only two detectives in an entire department of skeptics. And the two detectives probably didn’t advertise the fact that they had anything to do with Ramie’s trek to an unsecured crime scene.

Caleb had to curb his mounting hope. How many times did the police ever have a completely sealed, by-the-books crime scene that hadn’t had relatives of the victim or concerned acquaintances stomping through the area before realizing what had happened and called 911?

“Who’s staying here with Tori?” Quinn asked. “Surely it’s not a good idea to leave the house so unprotected by sending so many of our men with you, Caleb.”

“Dane has it well in hand,” Caleb said calmly.

Then he turned to Ramie as the others prepared to depart. He pulled her into his arms, ensuring he was at his most serious as he turned her to completely face him. He framed her face in his hands, his thumbs feathering over her cheekbones.

“Promise me, Ramie. Promise me you’ll do exactly as instructed at all times and nothing more. Don’t try any heroics. Got me?”

She cracked a small, rueful smile. “We’ve already covered that I’m not particularly brave or heroic. So let me say that, while I may not be any of those things, neither am I stupid. I have no intention of doing anything that puts me or any of you at risk.”

“Let’s roll then,” Dane said.





TWENTY-SEVEN




RAMIE shivered when they pulled up to an overgrown single-wide trailer that looked as though it was falling down. They were north of Houston, right on the fringes of a rural community where houses were spaced large distances apart and big pieces of acreage were used in farming and to keep cattle.

It had taken them almost an hour to get there, though it wasn’t a great distance as the crow flew. Traffic in the bustling area called the Woodlands had slowed them considerably and all Ramie could think was that the killer had done it on purpose.

Nothing he did could be considered random. He thought everything out to the minutest detail and he planned for every contingency.

Why then had she even bothered to come? She already knew it would be too late for the victim. That the killer was toying with her in an effort to push her over the edge. The women he abducted were merely instruments used to torture her. Nothing else. Their only crime was their accessibility.

The killer wouldn’t have chosen someone who would pose a challenge to him. Because they weren’t who he was after. He would have needed easy conquests so he could act fast and then have the police involve Ramie.

In essence, she, Caleb, his security and the city and county police were his puppets, dangling from strings while he directed their actions. She couldn’t even imagine how many resources were being utilized in the hunt for this madman or the toll it was taking, both financial and psychological.

The two detectives looked haggard, like they hadn’t slept in several nights. Dane and the men he oversaw all had determined, focused looks on their faces. There was an air of expectancy that hovered over the crowd of people standing in the front yard and then she realized that they were all looking expectantly . . . at her.

The pressure she was under, the expectations and demands placed upon her, weighed heavily on her heart and soul. Her feet dragged as she took a few steps closer to the rickety front porch of the trailer. They were so heavy it felt as though her feet were encased in lead.

“Do I just go in?” Ramie asked, staring in bewilderment at all the people staring back at her.

Their stares left prints on her skin. She fidgeted underneath their scrutiny. She lifted her gaze to Caleb in a silent plea for help. Did they expect her to perform like a circus monkey in front of them all? It felt as though this were some gruesome party where she was expected to entertain everyone by acting out a vicious crime.

“Detective Briggs?” Caleb said, raising his voice to be heard. “If you want Ramie to go in then the rest of you need to stand back and give her breathing room. Have you cleared the trailer yet? Is it even safe for her to go in?”

As he spoke, he put his arm in front of Ramie as if protecting her from whatever was inside.

Detective Briggs nodded shortly. “I realize that we can’t ask you not to touch anything given that your gift manifests itself through touching, but if you could limit it to only what’s necessary, perhaps we’ll be able to collect fingerprints or DNA.”

Ramie knew that was a tenuous hope at best. The killer was getting smarter, not more careless, as he escalated. Most killers probably did get more out of control and more convinced of their invincibility as time went on. But not this one. And Ramie found this kind of killer to be the most frightening of all. What could be worse than a man who couldn’t be found or apprehended? Free to kill and torture at will. How could any woman ever feel safe again with men like this out there? He could be a neighbor, a member of the same church, a schoolteacher or even a pastor.

There was no limit to the possibilities and Ramie already knew the killer looked . . . ordinary. Good-looking even. Neat and clean. Precise in his movements and meticulous in his dress.

Most women would find such a man harmless in appearance and would be liable to feel comfortable and at ease around him. He was, no doubt, charming and likeable.

What kind of world was it when such monsters lurked in seemingly benign waters?

“I’ll take her in,” Dane said. “One of our men and one of the county sheriff’s deputies. Touch as little as possible but as much as you need, Ramie. We want to nail this guy for good this time.”

Ramie nodded, her chin trembling with the effort.

“Not without me,” Caleb bit out.

Ramie turned, resting her fingertips on his wrist. “It will be easier if you don’t. I need to focus. It could look . . . pretty bad.” She grimaced and then lifted her gaze to meet his. “You wouldn’t like it. You may even interrupt or intervene.”

“Damn right,” he said vehemently. “The minute this goes south, I’m getting you the hell out of here.”

She gently shook her head. “No. We need to catch him this time. I have to try to look deeper than the surface. I have to see beyond what he wants me to see and see the things he doesn’t. It’s our only chance of taking him down. He’s too smart to slip up and make a mistake.”

Before he could argue further, and because he would argue the point into the ground, she turned and hurried toward the dilapidated wooden steps that were built onto a small square front landing.

The bottom step cracked as soon as she put her weight on it and her hand flew up to grasp the railing to prevent her falling. Dane gripped her other arm.

“Are you all right?” Dane demanded.

A loud roar burst through her ears, as though a hundred freight trains collided at seventy miles per hour. She swayed precariously and then sagged to her knees, her arm stretched upward because she still had a death grip on the metal handrail and her knuckles were white and straining.

A barrage of images, messy and chaotic, flashed rapid-fire in her mind. They were jumbled and confusing, no apparent rhyme or reason.

Fear had a chokehold on her. Not her fear. The victim’s fear.

Pain. Also the victim’s.

Triumph. The killer’s.

Unfettered glee and satisfaction. Also the killer’s.

She honed in on the killer, regretfully shoving aside the tumultuous explosion of the victim’s cries for help and justice. She knew, as she’d known with the last one, that it was too late. There was no sense in focusing her energy there when she needed all she could get to unravel the layers surrounding a maniac. A very intelligent, cunning psychopath.

Each random flash was like having still photos cataloging the entire gruesome crime. She studied and quickly absorbed each, much like she was thumbing through a photo album containing memories. Only these were not meant to be saved, cherished or remembered.

Underneath the thin overlay of each chronicled step the killer had taken with his victim was a hazy image that Ramie couldn’t quite make out. She concentrated harder, trying to bring it into focus.

Every time it seemed she’d manage to go beyond the carefully orchestrated façade, pain seared through her head, choking her with nausea.

It was camouflage. Despite the intensity of the pain and overwhelming nausea, excitement lit a spark inside her. One that couldn’t be extinguished by the killer.

Where before she would have been deterred by the macabre sight of blood, suffering and death, she now braced herself and forced herself to push past it. He was hiding traces of . . . one of his thoughts? What was it he didn’t want her to see?

She sensed victory and it imbued her with strength she hadn’t imagined she had.

Her head ached so vilely that she was afraid one of the blood vessels would burst. She shoved her face into her hands, scrubbing, trying to refocus on the blurry memory strategically hidden behind the images of the victim, bloody, eyes glassy with the knowledge of her own demise.

Then she smelled blood. Felt it on her hands. She frowned because that wasn’t what she was seeing. It took a moment to realize that she was the one bleeding. From both nostrils.

The pressure in her head was mounting. The pain was becoming unbearable. And yet she refused to back down and retreat. Not when she was so close to . . . something. She just had no idea what.

In the silent battle of wills, Ramie was determined that this one time she wouldn’t lose. She wouldn’t fail.

Damn it, what did he not want her to see!

And then the images covering his secrets shattered, sending shards of agonizing pain blistering through her skull. Warm blood spilled from her nose, but she ignored it, knowing this was it.

She went utterly still, refusing to even breathe as she waited for the pieces of the puzzle to assemble. They coalesced and took shape right in front of her very eyes until the pieces were one solid image hanging in the air for her to see.

It was like pushing back a curtain and seeing the unthinkable.

Oh dear God!

“No!” she screamed. “Back! Get back! There’s a bomb!”





TWENTY-EIGHT




CALEB froze when Ramie’s scream rent the silence. There was a split second when everyone seemed frozen, looks of absolute what the fuck reflected in their expressions.

Then everyone dove in opposite directions, rolling and scrambling for cover. To Caleb’s horror, Ramie tripped in her haste to descend the fractured wooden steps of the trailer. Time slowed and he hoarsely yelled her name as he dove for her, trying desperately to get on top of her.

He grabbed her wrist, yanking her against his body before turning and propelling them both behind the Hummer they’d driven to the scene. And then an explosion rocked the earth beneath them.

An orange fireball erupted around them, heat scouring their skin. The very air seemed to be on fire and the smell of smoke choked Caleb, making it impossible to breathe.

Debris rained down on them from the sky, pelting the vehicles and their exposed bodies like a storm from the bowels of hell itself.

“Ramie!” he shouted.

They’d been separated in the blast. Smoke was so thick that he couldn’t see her. He felt frantically along the ground in front of him, to the side and then behind him. She’d gone down underneath him but the explosion had ripped him away from her and flung him several feet.

He heard coughing but couldn’t be sure who it was.

“Caleb!” Dane yelled.

“I’m here!” he yelled back. “I can’t find Ramie!”

“Here,” Ramie croaked.

He followed the sound of her voice, crawling on hands and knees until finally he fell on her as he nearly mowed right over her. Rage overtook him when he saw that a burning piece of wood had hit her square in the middle of her back. He wrenched it away from her and then rolled her frantically over.

“Ramie, thank God. Are you all right? Damn it, I can’t see anything!”

“I’m okay,” she said faintly. “Or at least I think so. I can’t really feel anything right now.”

The woozy note to her voice worried him. He waved the smoke from his vision and then placed a hand over her forehead, lowering his head so he could better see her.

“Don’t move,” he said urgently. “We don’t know the extent of your injuries.”

Damn it, he shouldn’t have been so rough when he rolled her over, but he’d been desperate to make sure she was breathing, that she was alive.

As the smoke began to clear, Caleb got a better picture of the area and he stared in horror at the leveled space of land where the trailer used to stand. One of the vehicles that had been parked too close to the home had been blown over on its side. Men were sprawled in every direction. It looked like a military zone that had just been air raided.

Trees were on fire. The long grass around the trailer had been flattened by the force of the explosion. Windows were busted out of the remaining vehicles and a tree had been knocked over, T-boning another SUV.

“I need help over here!” Eliza yelled. “Man down!”

“You help her!” Caleb hollered at Dane. “I’ll take care of Ramie!”

Where the hell was everyone else? With bodies scattered everywhere it was impossible to tell who was okay and who wasn’t.

Several groans, mutters and curses arose as everyone began stirring. Then to his relief he heard Detective Ramirez urgently calling for backup and ambulances, radioing their location to dispatch.

Detective Briggs crawled to where Caleb was hunkered down over Ramie. Blood streamed from a cut in his forehead and a large bruise was already forming on his jaw. He spit blood on the ground and then asked, “Is she okay?”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “I think she’s a hell of a lot better than you. You should lie down, man. You’re spitting blood and even I know that isn’t good.”

“Just a busted lip,” Briggs said in disgust. “This son of a bitch has to go down. Now he’s conspiring to take out an entire police unit?”

Caleb made a sound of agreement. As he glanced back down at Ramie, his hands began to shake. He touched her cheek and then ran his fingers down her body, checking for any bleeding wounds that required immediate attention.

God, he’d come so close to losing her. If she hadn’t touched the railing. . . . He closed his eyes, unable to continue with the current direction of his thoughts.

She wouldn’t have been the only one to die. Thanks to her everyone looked as though they were moving at least.

Dane crouched down next to Caleb for a brief moment, his gaze assessing Ramie’s condition.

“Shock,” Dane said grimly. “I’m going to help Lizzie triage the rest so that when the ambulances start rolling in the higher-priority cases will go first.”

Caleb nodded. He was in shock himself. He couldn’t get his shaking extremities under control. Every time he tried to touch her to reassure himself that she was alive, he had to pull back or risk injuring her with twitching hands and complete clumsiness.

Once Dane disappeared, Ramie’s eyes moved, her head turning slightly so she found his gaze.

“Go help with the others, Caleb,” she whispered. “I’m all right, I swear. I don’t even hurt anywhere.”

“I think you’re hurt worse than you think,” he said grimly. “There’s blood all over your face and I can’t figure out where it’s coming from.”

She blinked in surprise and then lifted a hand, wiping it over her nose and mouth. When she did so, he saw that blood covered both her hands too.

“Jesus,” he swore. “That’s it. You’re taking the first ambulance.”

She shook her head and he swore again, immediately framing her face so she couldn’t move her neck again.

“Be still, Ramie,” he said forcefully. “You have no way of knowing if you have a spinal injury or not.”

“It’s not from the explosion,” she said, her voice louder and stronger this time.

He looked at her in puzzlement. “What isn’t?”

“The blood,” she said patiently. “It’s not from the explosion.”

“Then what the hell is it from?”

“Nosebleed,” she said simply. “The pain was horrible.” She grimaced as she said it as if recalling just how painful it was. “I had to fight hard to see past the images he wanted me to see. I was scared I’d have a stroke or an aneurysm or that my head would just explode from the pressure. My head has never hurt like that. My nose started bleeding heavily. My back must have been to you or else you couldn’t have missed it. And then finally just when the pain was too much to bear any longer I saw the bomb through his eyes.”

Caleb cursed viciously. “This is enough. You’re done with this. I won’t let you risk yourself anymore. I don’t give a fuck if that means you live the rest of your life hiding. At least you’ll have a life. You can’t keep this up, Ramie. Even you have to see that.”

“I was so scared, Caleb,” she said in a dazed voice that told him she hadn’t even registered his statement. “God, I thought you’d all die.”

And that pissed him off even more. He was fuming, his fingers curling into tight fists because he didn’t want to chance touching her and hurting her.

She hadn’t said she was afraid she’d die. No, her only concern had been for the rest of them. He had enough panic for her for them both but damn it, if he couldn’t instill that same vehemence when it came to her own life, how the hell was he supposed to make her start caring for herself?

In the distance sirens wailed, drawing closer and closer until they screamed in Caleb’s ears. He remained on his knees, surveying the damage in an attempt to make sure everyone was accounted for.