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“Oh, I’m always watching.”
They held each other’s gaze for several beats, then Drex bent down and picked up the lifeless mouse by the tail. Holding it between them, he gave a jocular shrug. “Guess I won’t need a cat, after all.”
Jasper chuckled.
“Well, good night.” Drex started off.
Jasper let him get only a few yards away before calling out, “Hold it.”
He turned.
“Take this.” Jasper walked forward and passed him the flashlight.
“Thanks. There wasn’t one in the apartment.”
Jasper smiled. “What are neighbors for?”
When Drex returned from depositing the mouse in the dumpster, he took his third shower of the day and went to bed, pulling the sheet only to his waist. The fan, aimed directly at him, hummed from the side of the bed.
His mission that night had been to get a different perspective of the layout of the Fords’ house, in an attempt to figure out a way to get inside. From behind the tree, he’d been using the zoom on his phone’s camera to try to spot security devices on windows and doors. When Jasper had burst from the house like a man possessed, he’d had no choice but to brazen it out.
Fortunately, he’d thought to take along the dead mouse as his excuse for being in Jasper’s backyard, should he be caught. He didn’t believe Jasper had bought the excuse entirely. But they’d played out the scene as though he had. It hadn’t been easy for Drex, make-believing with a man whose heart and mind were darker than he’d initially thought.
He still didn’t know how he would breach the castle, but he had come away knowing that Jasper was vigilant to an extraordinary degree. Meaning that Drex would be damned lucky to succeed in planting just one bug. He wished he could plant one in every room.
But even if he could manage that, there were some areas he’d rather not infiltrate. Mainly the bedroom shared by Jasper and Talia. He didn’t think he could stomach listening in on an intimate conversation or, God forbid, lovemaking.
He believed that Jasper was the man he sought. Which meant that Jasper’s rich, successful wife was in jeopardy. But until every element of doubt had been erased, until Drex had irrefutable proof that Talia was living with a man who had buried another woman alive, he couldn’t risk warning her.
He wouldn’t call in the cavalry with Rudkowski leading the charge. That would spell certain disaster. Rudkowski, who didn’t know the definition of finesse, would bungle it, give them away, and then God knew what Jasper would do. It chilled Drex to think of it. He was dealing with a personality that had a very sharp tipping point, one who was in control…until he wasn’t.
His short-term goal was clear: maintain his cover while keeping Talia safe from the man she lived with. He would do whatever he could to prevent her from becoming victim number nine and meeting a fate like Marian Harris’s. He was committed to protecting her life, regardless of how she looked.
But she looked like Talia Shafer, and he would be lying not only to his friends but also to himself if he didn’t admit that her appeal upped his level of commitment to spare her life. If Jasper Ford was who he suspected, seeing him brought to justice would no longer be sufficient or satisfying. Drex wanted to engage in mortal hand-to-hand combat. He wanted to eviscerate him.
Of course he acknowledged that such macho thinking was juvenile, stupid, and dangerous. If he went at Jasper Ford for any reason other than getting justice for eight women, he would be in hock with Rudkowski for the rest of his life.
Beyond that, allowing emotions to call the shots was a recipe for disaster. Emotions messed with a man’s mind. They either weakened his resolve or made him so determined, he grew reckless. One misstep, one reflexive reaction or unplanned remark could expose his playacting. Because Jasper would be watching. A single mistake, no matter how slight, could lead to failure. Worse, it could lead to Talia’s death.
Sure as hell, Weston Graham, aka Daniel Knolls, aka Jasper Ford would be at the top of his game, staying cool, playing it smart.
So must Drex be.
But, God, that was going to be difficult when he couldn’t rid his mind of Talia’s brandy-colored hair, the skin that tended to freckle, the gray eyes that bespoke intelligence and goodwill, but also hinted at an irresistible elusiveness.
The loose-fitting clothes she had worn on the yacht hadn’t been provocative or revealing, but Drex had imagined the shape inside them to be compact and sweet. When she’d talked about desiring chairs that conformed to the human body, he’d desired to have her human body conforming to his, her bottom nestling against his middle, seeking the perfect fit, finding—
Christ!
He slid his hand beneath the sheet. He was hot. He was hard. He was going to hell for coveting his neighbor’s wife. He would burn for committing whatever the biblical term was for the sin of sexual self-gratification.
He wasn’t deterred.
Chapter 6
Bill Rudkowski entered his office carrying a sixteen-ounce thermal container of coffee in one hand, his briefcase in the other, and the imperish
able chip on his shoulder.
