Under a Rogue Moon

Chapter 13

Chapter 13The house was silent when Flanna and Jason crept in just before four. There had been no further signs of disturbances, and though Jason had stopped at one point to scan the horizon, he’d shaken off her questions with denials anything was wrong.

“I thought I could…” he’d started, but then hesitated, eyes narrowed as he looked again around them. “It’s nothing. Let’s go home.”

Home. It had always been one of her favorite words, but now it seemed to hold extra meaning, as if Jason’s being there gave it added warmth. He held her hand the entire walk back, though the light touch of his fingers on hers, the barely there way he tangled them together, made it feel like a purely unconscious gesture. And they talked, well, continued talking, moving beyond the topics of mothers and fathers and histories to wishes and desires and futures. When they crossed the threshold of the back door, she couldn’t even remember everything that had been said, but the ache of smiling too much and the furtive touch of his hand in the small of her back were all she cared about anyway. It had been a good night all around.

He tugged her into his arms as she closed the door behind them. “Guess sleeping in your bed tonight’s out of the question, huh?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

Flanna sighed, leaning back against him. Her body was still humming from her orgasm, though she suspected that his company alone would set off this verve within her skin just as easily. “You could…come upstairs when they leave for the shop,” she suggested hesitantly.

“You expect me to stay awake that long?” When she tensed, annoyed with her brief descent into what was obviously madness, Jason chuckled, tightening his hold on her to prevent her from escaping. “For you, it’s easy.” She shivered when his lips found her ear and whispered, “As long as you’re not expecting me to sleep once I’m there. I’m not sure I could be so close to you and keep my hands in non-naughty places.”

The hands in question were already slipping to regions not exactly conducive to maintaining their distance with her family in the house. Reluctantly pulling away, Flanna hazarded a soft kiss across his mouth before scurrying to the stairs. “Good night,” she called back quietly. The last thing she saw was Jason’s pleased smile.

Fatigue took over once her bed loomed in such close quarters. Struggling out of her clothes, Flanna slipped beneath the duvet in just her bra and panties, the thick down of slumber quickly overtaking her. Her sleep was deep and dreamless. She didn’t even hear her family rise or the car leave from the drive. She wasn’t aware of anything until a familiar touch grazed across her cheek.

She blinked at the figure crouching by her bed. For a moment, she forgot the offer she’d extended and the promise that had been issued in response, but when it came rushing back, it was impossible not to smile up at his expectant face.

“You came,” she murmured sleepily.

He wore only a pair of sweats hanging dangerously low on his slim hips, and while she could clearly see his arousal through the fabric, there was no mistaking the gentleness in his touch when he brushed her hair away from her face.

“I should go back down,” Jason said. “You need to sleep.”

“No, no.” Sliding over as far as the narrow mattress would allow, Flanna pushed back the blanket to make sure her offer wasn’t misunderstood. “Stay.”

For a moment, his gaze slid over her exposed shoulder, falling to the full curve of her breasts and lingering hungrily before returning to her face. “Roll over,” he instructed.

She did as he said and felt the bed shift behind her, his legs matching up to hers, his c**k nestling against her ass. As she snuggled back into him, Jason slipped his arm around her waist, holding her gently against his chest.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. Her temple tickled where he brushed a kiss over her hair.

Flanna deliberately pushed her bottom against his arousal. “But you don’t want to,” she said.

“I don’t want you exhausted, either.”

There was a deliberate laziness to the way his long fingers splayed across her stomach, relaxing her in spite of the excitement of his touch. Against her better wishes, her eyelids drifted shut, the even rhythm of his breathing lulling her back into sleep before she could stop herself. The last thing she was aware of was Jason’s soft sigh warming her cheek.

* * * *

She woke up alone, the autumn sun doing its feeble best to filter past her closed blinds. Yawning, Flanna rolled onto her back, aware all of a sudden of the low murmur of a man’s voice. Jason. He was awake. Who was he talking to?

Just as quickly as she became aware of it, however, the conversation ended, and the stairs creaked as someone ascended them. She was pushing back the duvet to get up when the slightly ajar door was pushed open farther, and Jason appeared in the entrance.

“You’re awake,” he said with a smile.

He hadn’t dressed, and his short hair stood up in disarrayed tufts. He looked like he’d just risen himself, she realized, and wondered again who it was he’d been talking to downstairs.

“What time is it?” she asked instead.

“Something obscenely early. I was hoping the phone wouldn’t wake you up.”

So that was it. “Who called?”

Closing the door behind him, Jason came back to the bed, sitting on the edge instead of choosing to slide back beneath the blankets. Some of the light shadowed in his eyes, and when he began stroking the back of her hand without meeting her gaze, Flanna’s stomach tightened.

“That was your father,” he said carefully. “He wanted to give us some news.”

The knot started to burn. “What happened?” she demanded, now fully awake. Sitting up broke the contact between them, and she suddenly became all too conscious of her near nudity. Tugging the duvet up to cover her breasts, Flanna repeated, “What happened?”

Jason sighed. “The police in Kesbury found the body of a young woman this morning.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She was raped and murdered.”

Kesbury. That was the next village south. All the color drained from Flanna’s face.

“There’s a lot of physical evidence,” Jason went on. “Apparently, whoever did it, wasn’t too concerned about covering his tracks. The police have DNA, prints.” He paused, unable to meet her eyes. “Teeth marks.”

“Do you think it was Romm?” she whispered. She already knew the answer to that. She needed to hear him say it.

“The physical description matches.” At her curious frown, he clarified, “Someone saw the girl get into his car around dawn. What they’ve got is vague, but it’s enough for me to be sure.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until Jason took her hand in his. Even then, the warm steadiness of his fingers did little to quell the tumult in her gut.

“I’m putting all these people in danger,” she said. “He’s here for me. I should’ve—”

“There was nothing you could’ve done to stop him,” Jason interrupted. “She didn’t even live in Birley.”

“We should’ve done a wider sweep. We might’ve been able to—”

“No.” This time, he took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “This is what Romm does. Full moon, half moon, no moon at all. The man is a killer, and it wouldn’t make a difference if he was here after you or in New York City picking up some girl in a bar. There are still going to be victims and that has nothing to do with you.”

He made sense. She hated it, but he was right. Something he said, though, niggled at the back of her mind. “Why did you say New York?” Flanna asked. “Was he there, too?”

“He’s been everywhere,” came the smooth reply. “I was just using it as an alternative to here. The point is, location means squat. Blood is blood to him.”

“And he wants mine.” With a heavy sigh, Flanna eased out of his grip, standing and reaching for her robe tossed over the nearby chair. “At least we’re confirmed that he’s in the vicinity and not just sending long-distance envoys out to do his killing. It gives us something to work with today.”

Jason trailed after her, down the stairs and into the kitchen where she immediately put the kettle on to boil. “You have a plan?”

She nodded. “I’m going into Kesbury as soon as I feel human again.” The clock on the wall said ten-forty. Jason had been right; it was obscenely early considering how late they got into bed. “He’s got to be staying somewhere. People have seen him, I know it.”

“The police are looking for him already.”

“And now I will be, too.”

“We, you mean.”

She stopped scooping the tea into the pot to shoot a frown at him. “You can’t go,” Flanna said. “You’re an American. You’ll create suspicion.”

“Trust me. They’re not going to mistake me for Romm.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s more dangerous for you to be out there on your own.” He closed the gap between them, slipping his arm around her waist while resting his chin on her shoulder to watch her finish the tea preparations. “I’ve done this kind of thing before,” he said. “You can trust me not to do anything stupid.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s the police. One wrong move—”

“Won’t happen. I promise.”

She was too tired to argue with him. The tone of his voice made it clear that he was ready to fight the issue if she pressed, but frankly, Flanna was grateful that she wouldn’t have to go about this alone. When it came to her normal hunting duties, working as a lone agent was freeing. It made it easier to focus if she didn’t have to worry about anyone else.

But this wasn’t normal. This was vengeance, through and through. Personal. Directed specifically at her. She hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a very long time, and the outside possibility that there would be nobody there to support her in case something went wrong was terrifying.

Her thoughts jumped forward to when this ordeal would be over. Once Romm was dead, Jason would leave. Move on to his next hunt. Leave her behind for her own. It was always possible that their paths would cross, but the world was a very big place. There was also the chance that they’d continually miss each other.

To her astonishment, the latter made her heart sink. Maybe it was just because she was still caught in the first throes of…whatever this relationship she was developing with him was, but at that moment in time, the last thing Flanna wanted was for him to go. Ever.

“All right,” she said, acquiescing to his argument. Twisting in his arms, she leaned away as she waved a warning finger in his face. “But if you get in trouble, I’m telling my father that this was all your idea.”

Jason grinned. “And you know, I don’t think he’s going to have any problems buying that. Especially since it’s the truth.”

Fighting back her smile, Flanna shook her head in mock disapproval and broke free from his embrace. “Watch the kettle,” she said. “I’m going to get dressed and write Dad a note. We’ll go after we’ve had a cup of tea.”

“The English and their damn tea,” she heard him mutter as she left the kitchen.

“The Americans and their awful coffee!” she yelled back.

The sound of his laughter warmed her as she climbed the stairs to her room.

* * * *

Kesbury was very similar to Birley. Small and self-contained, it looked much like it had for centuries, low-roofed buildings crammed into winding roads, tiny roundabouts made lethal by locals. Only the shops that lined town center had changed names over the years. Boots, the local fish and chips shop, a small Marks and Spencer’s…Flanna could have been walking through her hometown, smiling at and greeting the familiar faces that passed. Images of Romm stalking through the village, searching for a victim, kept her from enjoying the simple stroll, though. She was there with a purpose; she had to focus.

She and Jason had separated at the parking lot near the train station, agreeing to meet up at four to go over what they’d found. She held little expectation that he’d come up with anything. Even if his American accent didn’t raise suspicions, the fact that he was an outsider would automatically lock people’s lips. This was going to fall completely onto her shoulders.

Her first stop was the small pub at the edge of town center. Any local gossip would originate there.

The Crown and Anchor looked like any other pub, heavy tables scattered near the windows, worn beams hanging so low overhead that Flanna had to fight the urge to duck as she slipped inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but that time gave her the opportunity to look around and assess where she could start. The lunch crowd was in full swing, which in Kesbury apparently constituted half a dozen patrons, most of whom sat at the bar watching the midday news on the television mounted above the taps. Not a single person was under the age of fifty. She chewed her lip. That could work either for or against her.

The bartender glanced in her direction when she slid onto a stool in the middle of the bar. His bushy brows lifted for a split second in surprise, but quickly fell back into his stoic expression, stepping down to stand in front of her.

“Chips and a diet Coke,” she said before he could speak.

The bartender nodded and moved away without another curious glance. She’d passed the first hurdle; they didn’t see her as anyone other than a passerby stopping in for a bite to eat.

The man nearest her was two stools to her left, a wizened pensioner with so many age spots on his bald head that it looked like someone had splattered brown paint at him. He was nursing a Guinness, and a half-eaten cheese roll sat forgotten in front of him. The news was of more fascination.

“Shame, that,” the man said out of the blue.

Flanna looked around, but nobody else seemed to be paying him any attention. “Pardon?”

He shifted on his seat, his humped back less in her face as he turned toward her a little. “The girl that was killed. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To see what you can dig up on her? Bet you’re one of those London spies, looking for a bit of country gossip to catch the boss’ attention.” The finger he waggled at her had gnarled knuckles that made his hands look like fragile twigs. “Can’t pull the wool over these eyes, miss. They’ve seen too much.”

She was torn between going with the pretense and feigning ignorance. She wasn’t sure which would yield greater results.

“Leave the girl alone, George,” the bartender warned as he set a plate of hot chips in front of her. “There’s been enough nastiness about town today. We don’t need you mucking it up more.”

That made her decision for her. “What’s he talking about?” she asked, reaching for the vinegar.

The bartender shook his head. “Nothing worth repeating.”

George snorted. “That’s the kind of thinking that’s going to let the bastard strike again.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“It is. Just you wait.”

“There’s no way a bloke like that can just walk free without being noticed,” the bartender argued.

Flanna ate her chips in silence as she listened to the two men bicker back and forth on the merits of the local police. A few other men at the bar contributed occasionally, but George and the bartender carried the bulk of the discussion. It appeared that this was a familiar method of conversation between the two.

The locals didn’t know what the attacker looked like. Though the rough details of the rape/murder had already been leaked, the police were keeping a tight rein on any physical description, only going so far as to warn people about being wary of male strangers. This left mixed impressions with the town’s citizens, but one thing was certain. Everybody was shaken by the events; this kind of violence didn’t normally darken Kesbury doorsteps.

Flanna left the pub confident that Romm had never been there. It was a tightly knit group; there was no way a stranger could wander in without provoking some type of interest. She tried the fish and chip shop next, but only heard more of the same. That could only mean that Romm was subsisting on the local McDonald’s or foodstuffs that didn’t require cooking.

Tesco’s was closer, so Flanna opted to go there next. It was a small shop, with a tiny café and minimal housewares. Kesbury citizens obviously weren’t interested in the superstore experience, she thought as she wandered the aisles. She wasn’t exactly clear on what she was doing. Without knowing the town’s residents, everybody was a stranger to her. Romm could have been any one of them for as much as she knew.

She saw Jason when she rounded the corner from the meat counter to the dairy products. Halting in her place, her eyes widened as she watched him chatting with a pretty, young blonde, a block of cheddar in one of his hands and a wedge of stilton in the other. A basket half-filled with digestives and rolls dangled from his arm.

They hadn’t told each other where they’d be going, but the last thing she’d expected was for him to show up in the same spot as she. Yes, it was a small town, and yes, he was a seasoned hunter, but…she frowned. Was he flirting with the girl?

Before she realized what she was doing, Flanna was marching toward him, boot heels clicking against the tiled floor. The woman’s giggle drifted back to her first, which only served to irritate her for some reason, so that by the time Jason looked up and saw her approaching, her temper was frayed whippet-thin.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. She did her best to ignore the woman, pulling herself straighter even though it made her feel like an sss compared to the petite blonde.

Jason was unperturbed by her barked question, smiling at her with the same easy charm he always did. “Looks like shopping,” he said lightly.

With a sideways glance at the young woman, Flanna snatched the cheese out of his hands and tossed it back into the display. “We’re leaving.”

He didn’t say a word as he followed her down the aisle, setting aside the basket at the first opportunity. He didn’t say a word until she whirled on him in front of the store.

“You don’t have to be jealous, you know.”

She gaped at him, unsure whether to be more outraged at his bald declaration or his jovial tone. “I’m not.”

“Then this temper tantrum is because I picked out the wrong cheese?”

“I’m…this…I’m…” Words failed her, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, especially when a woman exiting the store stared at them in curiosity.

Jason stepped closer, blocking Flanna from the customers’ view. As his smile softened, his gaze dropped to her mouth, his hand rising so that his thumb could brush across her lower lip. “You had the same thought I did,” he said. His voice was almost a whisper. “Brilliant girl. Romm has to eat but he needs a low profile. Of course he’d shop for his own food.”

The feather of his touch was making her mouth quiver, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek in order to get it to stop. “You were flirting with that girl,” she managed to say.

“Only because she’s seen Romm,” he replied. His eyes were still transfixed by her mouth. “Why does it bother you?”

She didn’t know the answer to that question. She wasn’t entirely sure she could recite her address if he kept up with the seductive tone and touching. Then his first statement sank in.

“Wait.” Flanna took a step away. It was the only way to clear her head. “She saw Romm? How do you know that?”

He only smiled. Taking her hand in his, he pulled her away from the store, across the street and toward the station where they were parked. Where he was going with this, she had no idea, but for now she shoved aside her mistrust and followed his lead without question. It was easier to believe in his desire to get Romm than it was to consider why she’d reacted so badly at seeing Jason with another woman. The first was almost calculable.

There was nothing at all sensible about the prospect that she was falling head over heels for Jason Randolph.