Stripped (12 page)

They’d known their attacker. That had been the first piece of evidence that stood out to everyone. So who did Rachel share in common with them?

He groaned as he sunk his head into his hands and speared his fingers through his hair. He might as well ask who she didn’t know. Years on narcotics connected Rachel with every slime ball who frequented the Strip. The regulars were like family. Black sheep maybe, but family all the same.

Why Rachel?

She must have made the connection. Must have IDed him somehow. There couldn’t be any other explanation for a serial killer to deviate so drastically from his MO.

He dragged his hands down his unshaven face and looked out the window once more.
Who is it, Rach?

On a sigh, he resigned himself to the uselessness of reviewing the file. Everything he could ever hope to know he’d already memorized. Now he had to find the missing pieces, and the only unusual circumstances came with Natalya and this Sergei guy. He needed their files. Maybe in them he’d find a link. A little fragment that put them in Vegas around the time of the murders.

No, that didn’t make sense either. Not entirely. At a time when dancers were hard to come by, she begged for a job. It was only natural she’d want someone she trusted close at all times. She wouldn’t understand that a good killer—and this one certainly fit that description—would find a way around boyfriends. He’d already done it twice. Sable from Treasures had been living with one of the security guards there. Mercury from Sapphire never went anywhere without her bodybuilding fiancé. But like clockwork, they ended up on the Grand Canyon rim.

Which all led back to the glaring fact—the killer knew the girls.

Maybe he should let Natalya dance. Her naked body would wreck havoc on his system, but if the killer approached her… No, she didn’t have blonde hair.

He could get her a wig.

The idea had merit, much as he hated to admit. New girl in town wouldn’t have the established friendships the killer claimed. The murderer would have to work at building that relationship, and he couldn’t accomplish that under Brandon’s nose without Brandon noticing.

Brandon let out a grunt and shoved the file aside. No more risks. If something happened to Natalya because he’d been desperate enough to use her as bait, he’d never pull himself out of the darkness that threatened to engulf him daily. He’d find another way.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and stretched out his cramped legs.

Natalya’s soft, perfect breasts burst from the recesses of his mind. Tired of fighting the incredible pull of his body, he let the vision take shape. It couldn’t hurt. As long as he didn’t allow fantasy to go to his head, a dose of morning erotica might be just the cure for the itchy feeling beneath his skin.

She swung that lean, muscular leg off the chair, slipped slender fingers beneath the tight lace garter, and stalked toward him, a sultry smile on her lips. Her other hand wound into his shirt, dragged him closer. Soft honeyed lips touched his. Before his mind could control what she’d do next, he sat in her office chair and her firm bottom gyrated against his lap. Where their clothes had gone to, he didn’t know. But they were missing, and she was naked, and her pussy slicked against his cock, hot, wet, and coaxing. Slowly he lifted his hips. Slowly she slid down. He could hear the slap of their skin, feel the tightness of her sheath as she snugged him close and took him deep. Up, down… Up, down… Fucking him slowly. Then harder… faster… as those intoxicating mewls tumbled, one after the other, from her parted lips.

With a frustrated oath, Brandon bolted upright in his chair. Behind the tight constraints of his pants, his skin felt damp. He took himself in hand, the need for release something he could no longer control. One firm pump pushed him over the edge, and he tucked the head of his cock against his palm to control his ejaculation. He let out a throaty groan, coaxed himself through orgasm until the last pulse seeped from his body and left him panting. Sinking into the chair he lay still, too sensitized to move.

Wrong move, Moretti.

Several mind-numbing moments later, his gaze caught the distant picture he’d taken with him to college so many years ago. His mother, his brother, his sister smiled back. Behind them, colorful hot air balloons littered the sky. Drawn to the memory, he rose from his chair, wiped his hand off with his shirt, and picked up the framed photograph. They’d all been so happy then. Scared that Angelo might find
them, but happy. Family. The only one he’d ever known, and he had nothing but one picture to hold on to.

Sighing, he set the photo down. Natalya be damned. He would not allow this crazy attraction to destroy the only chance he had at putting his father’s thugs behind bars.

N

Natalya’s shrugged her shoulders and looked around her sister for her adorable nephew. “Where’s Derek?”

“With his sitter.”

A puzzled frown tugged at Natalya’s forehead. After yesterday, she’d looked forward to spending some time with Kate’s son. She’d missed every Christmas, and every major event in Derek’s life—all but his first birthday. While she and Kate had agreed not to tell Derek that Natalya was his aunt, she’d hoped to sneak in a few priceless memories when she could. It surprised her how his absence darkened her mood.

“Why? He could have joined us. I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“No. He can’t.”

At the harshness in her sister’s voice, Natalya drew back. Suspicion reared its head. Warning bells tolled. Kate’s frazzled look didn’t bode well. What had her agitated now? Cautiously, Natalya asked, “Why not?”

Using her menu as a shield, Kate leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Because you’re a killer.”

“I am not!” Natalya slapped her napkin onto the tabletop, jarring her tea. Ice cubes rattled, mixing with the clank of silverware.

“No?” Leaning back, Kate laid her menu across her waiting plate.
“I could’ve sworn that’s what you’ve been telling me the last couple of days.”

The bitter truth jammed into Natalya’s gut. Sure, she could claim a dozen justifiable reasons, or more, to explain why she’d taken lives. They all sounded right on paper: dispose of the leader of a terrorist sect in Jordan, make a known threat on the president quietly disappear, terminate an arms shipment and if someone got caught in the crossfire…

She sighed. When it all boiled down to outside perception, black-and-white fact couldn’t necessarily override national security. Still, the accusation stung. A great deal of difference separated her from the thugs on the street. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s close enough Derek doesn’t need to be around it.”

Indignation arced through Natalya. For God’s sake, it wasn’t like she intended to start taking out marks in front of a four-year-old little boy. On a rare occasion, she’d even left her gun in her car, just in case her nephew happened to get his hands on her purse. She scowled at her righteous twin. “I suppose it’s perfectly okay for him to be around what his mother does?”

Her barb hit the mark, and Kate’s overblushed cheeks darkened with anger. She pursed her lips, returning Natalya’s scowl. Three years away from each other, and they could still fight like they had when they were teens.

“I do what I have to do because I have no choice,” Kate ground out through gritted teeth. “You
chose
your path.”

“Oh, come off it, Kate.” Natalya gave a sad shake of her head. “I may have been gone most of your marriage, but I remember Erik. He had a good job. A damn good career. And he looked out for you better than Mom and Dad. You expect me to believe he left you
nothing
?”

Behind her glasses, Kate’s face washed white. The fire in her eyes disappeared. Like some heavy weight had just been dropped on her shoulders, she slumped in her seat. “He tried.”

Feeling a modicum of guilt over her uncalled-for attack, Natalya softened her voice. “What do you mean he
tried
?”

Kate’s teeth dug into her lower lip. The motion of her shoulders suggested she wrung her hands beneath the white tablecloth. In her far-away gaze, tears collected. “You’re right. He did have a damn good job. I loved it a lot. It got the house of my dreams, paid for years of infertility treatments, and I got to see a good portion of the world each summer.”

So what was the problem now? If they could spend like that, they surely had invested. Natalya lifted an eyebrow, asking for more.

“We lived like the rest of the world.” Kate shrugged one shoulder, but her teeth worked at her lip harder. “Paycheck to paycheck. He spoiled me something silly. Derek, too, that first year.” She expelled a harsh breath that scattered the undisciplined blonde hair framing her face. “We weren’t in debt, but without his paycheck…”

They’d lost everything. Natalya flinched. “Surely he had some sort of life insurance policy?”

Kate shook her head. “He worked a lot. Seventy- or eighty-hour weeks most of the year. Which meant I handled everything else. Bills, meals, shopping, cleaning.” A deep gulp confessed embarrassment. “I forgot to renew his policy.”

In that moment, Natalya knew sympathy like never before. She reached across the table and squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m sorry, Katey.”

She also knew that before this case spiraled any further, she’d pass word to her superiors and set Kate as her beneficiary. Whatever it took to help her sister out of this mess. If she’d been closer…

Natalya shoved the surfacing guilt aside. She couldn’t change the past. All she could do was move forward and try to make up for being out of contact and inadvertently pushing her sister back to stripping. Which meant focusing on the reason she’d asked to have lunch together.

She withdrew her hand and beckoned the waitress over. “Two mango-spinach salads, please.” Her gaze slid to Kate, checking for approval.

A more enthusiastic nod agreed.

“And two strawberry daiquiris.”

At that, Kate cracked a smile. She pulled off her glasses and overly long eyelashes blinked rapidly in attempts to rid her unshed tears without smearing her makeup.

Their fight over, tension rolled off Natalya’s shoulders. With a nod, the waitress retreated to the bar at the end of the sidewalk café.

“Tell me about Brandon Moretti.”

Kate choked on her ice water. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, her eyes dancing with riotous laughter. “I thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not.” Natalya fixed her with a frown meant to eradicate the thought from Kate’s brain. She was not, would not be,
could
not be, interested in Brandon Moretti. It was just a physical thing. A bit of… sport.

Right
. If she kept saying it, maybe she could will it to happen.

“He’s the strongest suspect I have for Iskatel´.”

Again came Kate’s laughter. She shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I’ve known him a year. I bet I could even vouch for his whereabouts on a few occasions. And the man’s crazy about Derek.”

Crazy about kids didn’t fit with Natalya’s impression of Brandon Moretti. In fact, she’d place kids dead last on that arrogant man’s list of interests. Yet, for some strange reason, the thought he might be crazy about her nephew set off Natalya’s pulse. She did her best to convince herself the stuttering beat in her veins was anxiety.

She grasped at a fleeting possibility like it was the last life raft out of a choppy sea. “That could all be a guise. We know how Iskatel´ operates. He befriends the girls. Brandon has the connections.”

Kate shook her head more emphatically. “There’s nothing you can tell me that’s going to make me believe my boss killed seven women. Jeez, Natalya, the guy changes lightbulbs. Does the dishes.”

More information she didn’t want to know about Moretti. Natalya fidgeted in her seat.

“And if you ask me, sis, my boss has it bad for you.”

Now
that
wasn’t a subject Natalya intended to go near. The brief reminder of Brandon’s scalding touch and the fabulous pull of his mouth was enough to stir warmth in her veins as it was. No way in hell would she give desire room to bloom. “Lightbulbs and dishes don’t mean anything, Kate.
Why
can’t I get you to understand you
know
this person?”

“I get it.” She rolled her eyes on a frustrated sigh. “Just not Brandon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at someone the way he looked at you—and I’ve seen him with plenty of women.”

Great. So Moretti was a player too. That ought to put her mind at ease. If he didn’t get involved, it meant what brewed between them wouldn’t come with complications. A quick tumble in the sheets. An even quicker good-bye…

Exactly what she wanted.

So why did the thought that Moretti strolled through women the way she might stroll through shoes, make Natalya’s stomach bunch?

“Someone you know, Kate. Tell me about Jill. She cut you a couple of looks meant to kill last night.”

“Jill?” The amusement drained from Kate’s expression. Her mouth turned down, along with her brows, and she studied her plate.

“Yes, Jill.”

Interrupting insight Natalya craved, the waitress appeared with their order. “Anything else, ladies?”

“No, that’s all.” Natalya lifted her daiquiri and sipped from the straw. Frosty sweetness soothed the agitation fluttering around in her stomach. More seeped out as she sighed in mock bliss. “I’ve missed rum.”

“Jill’s been around forever,” Kate murmured once the waitress walked away. “I don’t know how old she is, but she’s got some guy who keeps her in plastic surgery.”

Her quiet disclosure drew Natalya forward in her seat. She pushed
her salad aside, set her elbows on the table, and focused on her sister’s expression. Kate’s gaze reflected inward, concentrating on something that clearly disturbed her.

“She’s done everything she can to land the lead dancer’s spot. Her body’s good. She’s got the moves. But it’s like men can sense her personality’s no better than a porcupine’s.”