Slenderman Page 3

  Rhys snorted and shook his head, his fear dissipating at the statement. “Only you, hon.”

  “Fine. You take him Sullivan, before I do something that’ll get me in trouble.” Jo stepped toward Rhys and let her partner take over. “I’m taking Rhys home. We’ll come to the station later for him to give a statement.”

  “I’m pressing charges on him, officer. You need to arrest him too. He punched my friends, and my thumb’s out of joint.”

  Anger pulsed from Jo as she faced blue shirt. “Really? Well considering the knife you dropped and the video surveillance I’ll be pulling from this parking garage, you and your friends will be up for attempted murder, and that’s just for starters. I heard from Dr. Carmichael that you were calling my fiancée a fag and you didn’t want ‘his sort’ treating your people, which pushes this into a hate crime. And as I have already dealt with one set of bullies yesterday, I’m fine with continuing the streak.” Jo’s lips curled into a smile that intimidated even Rhys. “You know, with a hate crime attached this falls into Federal Jurisdiction and if it’s attempted murder as well . . . well, those Federal prisons have a heck of a lot more bullies that are bigger and badder than you all will ever be.”

  “Jo, I’ll fill out the paperwork, and these assholes aren’t pressing charges on Rhys. What with Dr. Carmichael running into the hospital yelling for you and me because Rhys was getting gay bashed.” Sullivan snorted and shook his head. “Sorry, that was just funny, seeing as how he’s engaged to you. And the security video. They’ll be in plenty of trouble.”

  When that still didn’t seem to settle her, Sullivan clapped her on the shoulder. “You handled my problem with those two teenagers. Let me do this for you.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

  Two rookies came out of the doors, and Sullivan pointed to the other three as he snapped handcuffs around the massive man and lifted him up as if the guy weighed nothing. The move was unexpected given that Sullivan was as scrawny as a scarecrow. A walking skeleton who could eat his weight in food.

  “I’ll see you after I’ve had a few hours’ sleep. Otherwise I might show up cranky.”

  “Christ, drink coffee if it’ll make you less cranky, please.” With that, he shoved the perp toward the rookies. “We should check on Ned later too.”

  “Nancy said she’d let us know if there was any change so we can get his statement.”

  Turning to his boss, Rhys asked, “Dr. Carmichael, should I stay?”

  A wave from the doctor shooed Rhys on his way. “Go, I’ll handle the incident report.”

  “You’re going to need to come down to the station too, Doc.” Sullivan pushed the guy toward security.

  A heavy sigh as Dr. Carmichael raked his hands through his hair. “I know.” Catching Rhys’s gaze, he pointed to hospital. “They can talk to you when you come in for your shift.”

  “Thanks.” Exhaustion pulled at Rhys’s limbs. He needed sleep as much as Jo.

  A quick grin crossed Dr. Carmichael’s face. “You made sure we didn’t get our heads bashed in, consider us even.”

  “They seemed to only be after me.”

  The doctor shrugged. “I think if I’d have come out first it would’ve been me, and I am nowhere near able to defend myself as well as you are.”

  Maybe the man wasn’t as bad as Rhys had thought. Dr. Carmichael ushered two orderlies with gurneys to red shirt and blue shirt, who were both coming around, and had the men lifted onto the rolling beds and whisked away with the officers and Sullivan following.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jo followed Rhys into the house, but they made it no further than the kitchen table before they were mauling each other. She needed to see that he was okay, that he was whole and unscathed except for his busted lip and a bruised jaw. He hadn’t realized he had been punched until she touched his jaw.

  They pulled apart, and Rhys went to work on her black button-up shirt. “Rhys, wait.”

  His hand stilled while Jo’s eyes bounced to the doorway that led to the laundry then the other door that led to the hallway. The silence was absolute. No thump of the washer spinning clothes. No hum of the dryer. Granted, it was still early, but Marta should be bustling around them by now gathering laundry or vacuuming. Jo loved the woman dearly but hearing the drone of the vacuum cutting on and off could break the mood when she and Rhys were making out on the couch in the family room. There was rarely any privacy to be intimate in the house, during the day Marta was here and at night Rian.

  “Where’s Marta?”

  Rhys grinned. “I gave her the day off. And Rian’s at GlenCare for the day.”

  “We’re alone?” Heat flooded into her as her inhibitions were pushed aside.

  “Yes.”

  Jo returned the smile, stepped away from him, and hurriedly stripped. “Get naked. We’re hitting every surface we can before we pass out then we’ll wake up and hit a few more before Rian comes home.”

  Rhys laughed. “There’s my Jo.”

  In record time she was out of her clothes just as Rhys stepped free of his black slacks and briefs.

  The man was a work of art, a study in power and strength. The rippling muscles in his shoulders and back, his golden skin, narrow hips. All of this hidden beneath his baggy scrubs or covered by the suit jacket he wore, she loved that no one else saw his form. It meant he was all hers.

  His molten gaze burned her. He lifted her to the table. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She groaned. “You’re the gorgeous—” her voice bottomed out when Rhys took up the space between her parted legs, pushing them wider, his hands traveling from her knees to the juncture of her thighs.

  Unable to stay vertical she sprawled across the table.

  He leaned over her and claimed her mouth. Slow and languid. No hurry in his movements. She released a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close. She needed to feel his hard body, the strength of his arms enfolding her, and the beat of his heart letting her know he was here. Safe.

  They’d been together for two years now and every time felt special. The desire she felt for him simmered just below the surface waiting for a touch, a look, or a taste of him before flaming hot. They knew each other’s hotspots, knew how to drive the other to lose their mind, and she especially loved how they could slow it down and drag the lovemaking out for hours.

  Her skin sparked as he mapped her like the first time. Both of them needed the reminder they were alive. After this morning with Ned and after the incident with the pimp, she knew he needed to see her skin to verify she was unharmed. Just as she needed the same after walking out to meet him and seeing a guy almost cave Rhys’s head in with a tire iron.

  The scar from where he’d been shot didn’t detract; instead, it hit home how close she’d come to losing him once before. Just as she brushed her fingers across the scar on his upper thigh, he nibbled up the side of her neck.

  Their ever-present heat flamed. His fingers clutched at her as his mouth sucked up marks that her clothes would cover.

  Then he was gone, his ass flexing as he rushed to the cabinet next to the refrigerator. He yanked the Prune box off the top shelf and pulled a condom out. Tossing the box on the counter, he was sheathed, and pressing into her before her skin cooled.

  “Rhys,” she whispered across his ear.

  He cupped the back of her head and tipped her lips to his. His tongue drove into her. The copper taste of his blood made her growl in anger, but the sound was devoured in the all-consuming kiss.

  Jo was lost to him as she answered his unspoken demand for her surrender. The edge he could rush her to so easily came over as he demanded her surrender. Demanded her release. Stars sparkled behind her eyelids as her body shuddered. He followed her over the edge. Wanting to see him, she forced her hea
vy lids up and was rewarded with his head thrown back, the tendons in his neck bulging as he shouted her name.

  His weight settled over her and she held him. A few minutes later he stood and stepped away. She pushed herself from the table. Leaving her clothes where they were, she tossed a smile over her shoulder. “Shower and then I’ll meet you in bed.”

  His amber gaze met hers with a teasing glint. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “First one there has to wash the other’s back.” She tossed over her shoulder hurrying into the hallway.

  Exhaustion forgotten, she turned to race down the hall.

  ~ ~ ~

  A pat to her rear and a kiss pressed to the back of her neck roused Jo. They’d made love in Rhys’s office since he’d caught her before she had only made it a few steps into the hallway. The door to his home office had been cracked, and they decided to christen his desk. Hunger drove them from the office and back to the kitchen where Jo had grabbed his shirt from the floor and Rhys had pulled on his boxers before putting together sandwiches. Sated, they’d cleaned up and headed for the master suite where she and Rhys had relaxed in the garden tub. Exhaustion had finally sent them stumbling to bed.

  “How late is it?” she asked, her face buried in her pillow.

  “Almost three and before you worry, I tossed our clothes into the laundry room. What time do you go in tonight?” he asked.

  She groaned and rolled over. “Sullivan and I are hitting Southside to look for the homeless guy who stabbed the man in the parking deck.”

  “Did the stabbed man make it?”

  She loved how worried Rhys was for someone he didn’t know. His open heart was one of the things that had pulled at her when they first started dating. When he’d carefully tucked a victim’s dress around her before zipping the body bag closed, Jo had been hooked. He cared about everyone, and it was now her job to make sure no one preyed on his altruism.

  “Yeah, but the couple who found him were so focused on keeping him alive, they didn’t pay a lot of attention to the homeless man. So Sullivan and I hit a few hookers up last night.” Jo groaned. “And then we had to arrest a pimp because he tried to cut Sullivan, I told you about that. Now we’re going to hit a few of the homeless pockets and see if we can grab him.”

  She watched Rhys’s fingers adroitly button his cream-colored button-down and strap on his leather watch. Each motion was economical and precise. It was a rare treat to watch him dress. Unlike her, he took his time and checked that each piece of clothing hung just so before moving on to the next piece. Even tucking in his shirt was precise, as he undid his belt buckle then the button of his pants before lowering them to his thighs and smoothing the hem over his tight white boxer briefs. Done, he eased the pants up and tucked the hem down again, so the shirt hugged his waist with his pants buttoned and the belt buckle closed.

  “Do you think he’d have hung around?”

  She answered after he had made the last tuck. “Probably. The wackadoos always hang around.”

  “Josephine Lavette Rayburn—”

  “What? The guy is off his rocker, Rhys. His elevator does not go all the way to the top. He’s one sandwich short of—”

  “I got it. But how would you know that fact?”

  “He was praying over the guy he was stabbing, talking about needing to cleanse the guy’s blood.”

  He shook his head. “What you’re saying is the homeless guy will need to be admitted to the psych ward for a while.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, be careful and call me if you bring him to the hospital. Dr. Carmichael owes us one now, we’ll see if he can get the poor man admitted and seen to.” Rhys slid his lips over hers. Before she could drag him back to bed, he was at the bedroom door. “Love you.”

  “You too.” She muttered rolling back under the covers.

  She had no idea if it was minutes or hours later when the incessant ringing of the doorbell woke her. Grumbling, she stumbled out of bed, keyed in the alarm code, and grabbed her robe before stomping to the front door.

  Slinging it open, she snarled. “What?”

  “Lieutenant Rayburn?”

  The blonde woman looked to be wound tighter than a Wall Street trader trying to sell plummeting stocks.

  “That’s me. If you’re selling, we’re not buying. If you need a donation, I’ll give you a tip instead. Don’t wake people up when you’re asking for mone—”

  “No, I need you to come with me.” The woman pulled out a flat black leather billfold and flipped it open.

  Jo snorted. “FBI. Figures.” She turned back into the house.

  “Lieutenant? I need you to come to the station with me now.”

  “Not happening. I’m getting dressed first. No way am I parading around down there in my dang robe.” Jo swung around, making the woman jump back so as not to run into Jo. “If you have a problem with me getting dressed, arrest me.”

  Chapter 3

  She’d been here for hours. The drab puke green walls with pock marks in them were monotonous and boring to look at, so she turned her attention to the ceiling tiles. Two pencils were embedded in the tile above her head while stains marred a few others. Three had corners missing. Reaching the end of her interest in the ceiling, she crossed her arms on the metal table and tried to find a comfortable position in the metal chair. At least she wasn’t handcuffed.

  Jo could feel the oozing of time as it slowly ticked by with nothing to do. She couldn’t believe she was sitting in her own Interrogation Room. It was galling. And why was she even here? FBI Barbie hadn’t told her a thing, just pushed her toward Officer Fife, and the rookie had brought Jo here.

  She thought back to the last week and couldn’t place anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it was the hate crime trio from this morning. But she’d left all of them breathing, and Sullivan had done the paperwork. It couldn’t be the pimp incident, nor Ned getting shot.

  A hand slapped down next to her but she didn’t flinch. Instead, her brow lowered in irritation. She had dealt with a lot scarier guys than this rookie. Scrubbing her hand over her face, she stifled a growl as the rookie crowded her again. She needed coffee to deal with this crap. Especially if she was expected not to curse them all out. Freaking swear jar would end up paying for her wedding to Rhys.

  “You gonna tell me why I’m here, Barney?” So shoot her. With no coffee and being held with no one telling her anything made her beyond cranky. She was bordering on pissed off.

  “You’re here because we have questions.” He puffed out his chest as if he needed to prove he was in charge.

  “Really?” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable as she narrowed her eyes on him.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. Combined with the sweat on his temple and the slight flutter of his eyelids, it all added up to nerves. “Yes.”

  She stifled a smile. No sense in alerting her prey she was toying with him. Like a cat with a mouse. The boredom retreated now that she had a game. “What questions?”

  “Excuse me?” He squinted at her as if he couldn’t quite figure out why she was cooperating now.

  “You said you all had questions,” she motioned to him and the overdone mirror behind him. “So what are they? Or is it like twenty questions? If so, are you smaller than a breadbox . . . ”

  “This is no joking matter.”

  “Oh? Seems like it, since they sent their pinch hitter in here to interrogate me. You realize I was teething on crime scene reports before you were a speck in your daddy’s eye.”

  His face reddened, and he sputtered. “You—no—”

  “I’m getting bored. If you’re not going to at least pretend you know how to interrogate a suspect then you need to run along back to traffic duty.” Jo dropped her head on top of her crossed arms.

  “If you don’t giv
e me something to prove where you were after you left the hospital, I’ll throw every book I can muster at you, including impeding an investigation.” His yelled statement amused her.

  To cover the smile that wanted to spread across her face, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. No way would she give him an answer now even if her life depended on it. Which it didn’t. Of every suspect she’d ever questioned with an alibi of ‘I was at home’ rarely could provide proof. Luckily, with their security, cameras would have tagged Rhys’s car pulling into the garage and when the alarm was turned off and back on. So she had an airtight alibi, as neither of them had left the house until Rhys had gone to work.

  Jo checked her nails. “Really, every book?”

  The rookie eyed her. “Just because you’re a Rayburn does not mean you get to slide.” His derision set Jo’s teeth on edge.

  Her gaze lifted to meet his, cold flowed into her veins. He could yell and scream at her, but no one talked about her family. The rookie took a step back, bumping into the table and jumping at the contact as if he’d been goosed by Satan himself.

  “You’re prejudiced to my name? Good to know.” Pissed that she was sitting here wasting her time, she narrowed her gaze and lifted her lip in a facsimile of a smile. “So all those books you’re tossing my way, is one of them going to be the Bible? Because gotta say, I might have to arrest you for religious persecution or something if you do that.”

  He growled. “This is serious, Rayburn.”

  “Jesus, I need coffee before I rip your gun from its holster and beat you with it, rookie.” Jo shot said gun a scathing look. “That’s supposed to go in a locker outside before you ever come in here. Or did you forget that regulation since you think you’ve caught the ‘big fish?’“

  He stumbled back before hurrying out of the interrogation room. Jo faced the mirror. “Seriously, some-damn-body better get me coffee, or it’s gonna be hell when I get out of here!”