She didn’t dare move.
He was a light sleeper, and the slightest change in position would rouse him until she settled again. Not a bad thing, except she didn’t want this moment to end. Here, like this, in the wee hours of the morning, secure in the arms of a man who not only called her princess, but also treated her like one, was bliss.
If she kept her eyes closed and her breathing synchronized with his, she could pretend this moment never had to end. Play make-believe. Imagine hot nights and sexy mornings. Conjure what a life with him might be like. A house. A dog. Belly laughs over home-cooked dinners and game nights with Davis.
Yeah, he was part of the package, Grant too.
Easy to see they belonged to him.
Family.
Her heart stumbled over the word, the warm and fuzzies dissolving into stark reality. Family meant heartache. From headstones and closed caskets to broken promises and shattered trust, Eve had suffered enough.
She was tired of fighting.
Tired of searching for her place among people who didn’t want her.
Time to put on her big girl pants, and let the fantasy go.
She had one more battle to win. The Matthews, along with whomever they had on the payroll, were going down. Her sole purpose in life—to ensure they were tried and convicted for the crimes they committed and to bring those women home.
After? She had no idea. Staying in California seemed a depressing thought. Aside from her clinic, she had nothing left there, and by the time she got back to work, and the media finished covering the story, she might not have any clients left.
With nothing holding her back and the stigma of such a horrific crime following her, maybe leaving the country would be her best recourse. If she was destined to be alone, what did it matter where she lived?
The Algarve region of Portugal had always been a favorite destination. Why not spend a couple of years there, rent a villa by the beach, drink Super Bock in the afternoon, and read romance novels at night?
Heal her soul with sun, sand, and beer.
Lord. With the fight she had coming, Eve would need all the healing vibes she could get. The judge was a respected member of the California district courts—proving his involvement in the abduction and murder of twelve women would be no simple task.
He knew she’d be coming.
And he’d be prepared.
The underground cell where they kept their victims? Probably stripped bare and scrubbed clean. There would be no DNA, fingerprints, fibers, or weapon. Eve had no proof to offer or evidence to substantiate her claims.
Only her word, and the cuts and bruises she still carried.
Didn’t matter.
The judge had a weakness. One loose end he couldn’t destroy.
Bryan.
When she thought about him—about the things he did—her heart ached. She didn’t understand his behavior. Couldn’t figure out why he needed a woman to observe his bizarre ritual.
Aside from the fights she initiated, he never touched her after she woke in the white padded room. Yes, the abductions and assaults were sexual in nature, but the act had never been about the woman.
As soon as the police had Bryan alone in an interview room, it would be game over. Despite the years he’d managed to keep his secret, he’d be incapable of withstanding an interrogation. He believed the women he abducted were still alive, and to keep his world from crumbling, he’d want everyone else to believe the same.
He was so naive, so damaged, she almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
He needed to be held accountable for his actions, along with his father. It meant she had to find a way to keep them alive. Bryan wasn’t the killer, neither was the judge, but they knew who was, and that put them in danger. A person who murdered twelve women and disposed of their bodies wouldn’t hesitate to add three more to the list.
If Eve failed, and the accomplice eliminated the Matthews before she could convince the police to take them into custody, she’d never be safe. Never be free. Never find the missing women. She’d always be looking over her shoulder, and one day, when she least expected it, the murderer would find her.
