His face looked pale, his expression grim. “That was Coy Whitmore, a vet friend of mine. He called to tell me one of the guys I served with in Afghanistan was killed, guy named Pete Saldana. Pete was murdered, shot dead in some back alley outside a place called Buzz’s, a local beer joint where Pete hung out. Cops haven’t got a clue who did it.”
“Oh, Josh, I’m so sorry.”
“Funeral’s this week. Coy’s going to let me know what day.”
“You want me to come with you?”
He shook his head. “Ivy needs you. Pete lives—lived—with his wife in Fairfield. It’s only a couple of hours away. I’ll be down and back the same day.”
“Are you sure? I could ask Mrs. Thompson to babysit again.”
“I’ll be with friends. Noah and Cole will be here to keep an eye on things, so you don’t need to worry.”
“I’m worried about you, not me.”
His gaze went to hers. “I’ll be fine.” Shoving up from his chair, he left his breakfast unfinished and walked out of the house.
Tory’s heart went with him. She thought of the story she had read, “Ultimate Hunter,” thought of the men who had fought and died beside him in the war. He was out of the military now, but he was still losing friends.
It didn’t seem fair. But then life was never easy. It was a lesson Damon had taught her.
* * *
Damon was feeling the itch. The clawing need that burned deep in his belly. He needed a woman. Badly. But not just in his bed. Ever since he’d abducted Lisa and held her prisoner, nothing less than having a woman completely at his mercy would do.
As far back as high school he had sensed this unnatural need in him. Back then it had frightened him. By the end of his senior year, he’d accepted that he was different. He’d begun to explore that difference, allow himself to enjoy it.
Hurting things, both animals and people, having them in his power was a soaring high and fiercely sexually arousing. He’d read about people like him, how they’d been abused as kids, how their perverted parents had messed up their heads.
That wasn’t his story. Aside from losing his mom, he’d had it good as a kid. Nothing to complain about. Nothing that would explain his behavior. He was just unique. In a way he was proud of it, though by necessity it had to remain his secret.
Over the years, he had learned to control his needs, keep himself in check. On the surface he lived a normal life. People accepted him, even liked him. Women loved him.
Tory had been the flash point. He had fallen in love with her, had believed he might actually become the normal man he seemed on the surface. But the urges never really left him. The night he had beaten her into submission, he had felt such an unbelievable thrill, he’d been forced to accept completely who he really was.
Lisa had added fuel to the fire burning inside him. Taking her, using her, had made him feel like a king. He understood now what he had to do, the only thing that would satisfy this craving that never went away.
He needed a woman. It was Victoria he wanted, but she was in Texas with Cain. He had plans for Cain, but he didn’t have time for that now, and the hunger refused to let him wait any longer.
He’d considered going to a prostitute, but a woman soiled by so many men disgusted him. He would find a redhead, someone who looked like Tory. A substitute for his fantasies. He would lock her in his basement prison and force her to submit to his will.
Anticipation poured through him, so sweet he could taste it on his tongue. Images appeared in his head, and beneath the fly of his trousers, he went hard. He needed to start searching, find the right candidate.
Looking forward to the challenge, Damon leaned back in the chair behind his desk. And he smiled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tory rose early the day of the funeral. Clearly upset, Josh hadn’t come over last night. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have stayed. It bothered her, but spending the night had to be his decision, and it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon.
Dressing hurriedly, she got Ivy ready for the day, fed her a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, her favorite; then they went over to the main house to make breakfast for Josh before he left for Fairfield.
She heard the screen door slam behind him as he came in from outside and set his plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on the table. He sat down to eat, but mostly just toyed with his food, swallowing without much interest.
Tory thought she could have burned the entire meal and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Eventually, he gave up any pretense, shoved his plate aside, and rose from the table. “I’ve got to get dressed and get out of here.” He headed for his bedroom while she cleaned up the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher.
He was gone longer than usual. When he walked back into the kitchen, she understood why. He was wearing his full marine dress blues, a white, billed cap tucked under one arm.
