But I wanted her bad. I yearned to kiss her lips, drank from her essence, and lose control. All my life I kept a tight rein on my desires and behavior. With her, I found I didn’t want to follow any rules or even do the theorized right thing. With her, I craved the excitement that only a soft, warm woman could bring to a lonely heart like mine.
Haven made me crazy.
What is done is done. Focus on this moment.
We went on our way, entering the church hand-in-hand.
Still, I thought of Haven’s words.
“I go into the danger instead of run.”
That wouldn’t happen on my watch. Even though I promised to treat her differently, I wouldn’t. How could I not protect her? What kind of man would I be? She was good enough to lust over. Good enough to crave. But not good enough to safeguard and defend?
God, what am I saying?
There was no reason to bring up dating at this time, yet I did.
Usually, I had more finesse.
We’re on a damn case, and I’m asking her out. I’m declaring that I’ll be her protector and she can’t investigate serial killers.
We hadn’t even kissed, and I knew I would want to protect her. I hadn’t even felt the warmth of her arms under silk sheets. I hadn’t made love to her within the moonlight.
And still I talked to her—I proposed things—as if she was already mine.
Would I really leave the unit just to date her?
The possibility was getting more real as I held her hand. It was soft, warming me down to my bones. It was the best thing that had happened to me all month. After dealing with monsters for these past years, it felt good to be under a lovely woman’s attention.
It wasn’t like I had been a Pope for these years. I’d slept with many women and had my share. None lasted pass a few weeks. None could understand me unless they had been in my shoes and saw the day-to-day horror that I experienced.
But Haven would understand. She’d witnessed the terror of this world. Already, she’d stood by my side and helped to chase down bad guys with me. And it felt good. I’d had partners—Stein being one of my favorites. But this was different. She smelled so sweet and enticed me with those lovely curves. Listening to her enchanting voice soothed me and made me feel less alone in this fucked up world.
At least she knows how I feel.
Her presence in my bedroom had given me some of the best sleep of my life. Usually, I got no rest during a case, needing to drink lots of coffee in the morning. Since she’d been in my room, I relished in her existence, loving every moment.
Strolling through the church’s lobby, we approached another door.
A beautiful older black woman stood by it. I swore she held a familiarity, but I couldn’t place it.
Haven shook her head. “Mom, why are you out here?”
Mrs. Barron strolled over to us. “I thought I was going to have to head to Saint Mary’s and get you.”
“Mom, you know I’m not going to miss church this Sunday.” Haven let go of my hand and hugged her.
Mrs. Barron stepped back from her daughter and turned to me. She kept a stern expression as she assessed me with her gaze.
Haven gestured to me. “This is Special Agent King.”
“Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand to Mrs. Barron. “You can call me Alexander.”
“Nice to meet you too.” She shook my hand. “You’re a good-looking man.”
That caught me off guard. “Oh. . .thank you.”
I lowered my hand and returned to holding Haven’s. I couldn’t get enough of her touch, even though it was such a subtle gesture. And if I had to sit in church for this long, I would seize any opportunity for skin-to-skin contact.
“Very good-looking.” Mrs. Barron checked me out again. “No wonder you two are late.”
She caused me to blush for the first time this year.
“Mom, really?” Haven widened her eyes. “He’s my supervisor.”
Mrs. Barron gave her a wicked grin. “That’s why you two are holding hands. He’s supervising?”
“Oh.” Haven tried to leave my hand, but I wouldn’t let her. “Alexander was helping me up the stairs.”
“I bet he was.”
“Mom.”
“I’m just saying. Nothing wrong with holding hands.” Mrs. Barron got on my other side, took my free hand, and guided us forward. “Now, let’s listen to what the Lord wants to tell us today.”
That went. . .well. . .I think.
Haven gave me an embarrassed smile.
A woman dressed in white stood by the double door. As soon we came near, she opened it and handed us a white program with black letters. Unfortunately, I had to let go of both women’s hands to get it.
Let’s see what we have today.
Following Haven and her mother inside, I skimmed over the program. It appeared that we would be in church for a good three hours at least. I stifled my groan.
How many people need to talk? And can’t some of these activities be done on another day? Church announcements? Why not send everyone an email?
I forced myself to deal with it. This was Haven’s church. She’d grown up here. Her mother still served and worshiped in this building. But even more than that, all of the victims had attended.
Tension rose in my shoulders.
Wait a minute. All of the attendants were members of this church? No. That can’t be right. Some of the victims must’ve gone to another church.
Mrs. Barron led us to the fourth pew. One by one, we turned into it and sat down. Many people looked our way. Several whispered to each other when they spotted me. I was sure all knew who I was and why I had come to town.
I adjusted my tie. It felt like it was tightening around my neck, all on its own. Breathing in and out, I made myself relax. Still, many continued to look at me and then talk among themselves.
Okay. This is just as awkward as I thought it would be. Let’s hope this finishes faster.
It would be impossible to hide in here, especially since I was the only white man in the church—one that had been in the newspapers and tv shows, discussing the Fullbrooke Six.
Haven leaned my way and whispered, “Sorry. Most come to church for God. The rest come to gossip.”
“I’m still glad you’re here. Right next to me.”
She nudged my shoulder. “That’s right. I’ll protect you.”
I kept my laughter in. “Thank you.”
She winked. “I try.”
My thoughts from earlier came back.
“I have a question.” I kept my voice low. “How many of the victims do you think went to this church?”
“All of them.”
Tension gathered in my shoulders. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
I screwed my face in annoyance. “That couldn’t be right. How would we have missed that?”
“It probably wouldn’t have come up with Felicia Drake—the first victim. She was taken while walking home. There was no need to wonder about the twelve-year old’s church affiliation.”
I groaned. “And what about our second victim, Karen Brookes?”
“Yes. I know her mother, Shelly. She’s in the first pew on the left side. Mom said that Pastor Miller has all the Fullbrooke Six’s parents sitting in the first two pews now, so the congregation will never forget and also give added support to them in this time of need.”