Full Exposure(31)
Author: Tracy Wolff

After Sandra had died, she’d closed herself off from her emotions because the pain of losing her twin had been so intense that she’d contemplated suicide for the first time in her life. Once she’d locked those feelings behind walls, it had become easier to breathe. The guilt and despair were still there, just distanced. She could still take them out and examine them whenever she wanted to, but she’d learned how to wall them back up when she was done. So that she could move on with her life, as her parents, friends, and shrink all told her she must.

The side effect, of course, was the emotional chasm she’d opened up between her and anyone who’d ever cared for her. It’s why she never spoke with her parents except about the most superficial things. It’s why her brother had stopped calling years ago. And it was why she’d never connected emotionally with a man. She’d dated casually, had sex when her body craved it, but had never let her emotions be touched.

Until Kevin. Kevin had scaled the incredibly high walls she’d erected and now her defenses were threatened. She, and her crippled emotions, were on their way to being laid bare for him.

She couldn’t stand it.

Couldn’t stand the vulnerability of having another person see that much of her.

Couldn’t stand the pain and uncertainty that had rushed back in the past few weeks. Damien’s parole hearing might have been the catalyst, but Kevin was the one who had enacted the thaw of her chilled emotions. Part of her almost hated him for it.

With a sigh, she shrugged into his black cotton bathrobe. It was miles too big for her, but it smelled faintly of him and made her feel safe. She shook her head at the irony.

How it was possible for one man to embody both total security and absolute threat, she didn’t know. Kevin had managed it, however, and his ability to do so was tearing her up inside. She turned away from the bed they had shared for nearly three weeks. Turned away from him and on bare feet padded out to the family room to curl up on the couch and watch some abysmal movie or other on late-night TV.

Sandra had loved late-night movies, had talked her into watching any number of terrible horror movies in the early hours of the morning. The ones with the deranged serial killers and the stupid teenage girls had always been her favorite. If only they’d known …

It had been nearly eleven years, yet she could still smell the blood—the stench of old pennies mixed with sweat. Her blood. Sandra’s. She could still hear the sickening, sucking sound as Damien plunged the knife into her sister and pulled it back out, again and again. And his inhuman cries—high and wild—an animal in a killing frenzy.

But it was Sandra’s screams that haunted her, her pleas for help that went unanswered because she, Serena, was too weak to help her. Because she’d been stupid enough to let Damien in the house that night. Because keeping the peace with her sister had been more important than saving Sandra’s life. That was the guilt that ate at her from behind the walls she’d erected, the guilt that had never gone away. She could have saved Sandra, had she only been strong enough.

The young her**ne on TV screamed as she ran through the streets, fleeing the masked madman with a knife. Serena watched with a detached kind of horror as he caught his victim and stabbed her over and over. Was that what it had looked like when Damien had killed Sandra? Had her body been that rigid and tense as she’d fought him, gradually going limp as he’d punctured major organs and her blood had slowly drained from her body?

Serena studied the gory death scene with objective eyes. There wasn’t nearly enough blood. When Sandra had died there’d been miles of the stuff. The marble floor had been liberally covered, the walls and art—even the chandelier—sprayed with huge, dripping ribbons of red. The floor of the coat closet had been soaked in her own blood, so much so that her parents had had to rip the entire thing apart to get rid of the smell.

The screams from the TV were lessening as death claimed the her**ne. The screams inside her own head were lessening as well, as the blessed and familiar numbness claimed her. She watched the her**ne’s face relax, saw her eyes go gradually blank. She continued to watch, torturing herself, as the killer threw back his head and laughed maniacally before plunging the knife into the dead girl a few more times. He ripped at her clothes, bent down to smell the stench of death permeating her. Licked a drop of blood from her face before—

The television clicked off abruptly and she turned to find herself staring into Kevin’s enraged face. “What the hell are you doing?”

She shrugged, almost completely numb now. A small part of the wall threatened to crumble, but she shored it up. Watching the movie had reminded her, only too well, what loving someone could do to her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to come out here and watch a teenage girl get murdered? Have you completely lost your mind?”

She smiled faintly, knowing she should be ashamed. Or at least upset. Concerned. Horrified. Something. Kevin fairly crackled with rage, yet she couldn’t work up anything reassuring to say. She finally settled on, “I don’t think so. But I couldn’t swear to it.”

“You couldn’t swear to it?” He stalked to the sofa and crouched down beside her so that he could look her in the eye. “Well then, I’ll tell you that I think you’ve gone completely around the bend! Why watch that filth, Serena? Why torture yourself with it?”

She shrugged off his concerned hand, wandered into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge. He followed her, both his presence and his utter silence demanding an answer. “It’s no big deal. Sometimes I watch them.”

He thrust a hand through wildly his hair, his eyes burning into her back. “Sometimes you—” He stopped, as if just the thought was too much for him. “How twisted is that?” he asked finally.

She turned, a rueful smile on her lips. “Pretty twisted. But then I warned you early on that I wasn’t playing with a full deck, Kevin.”

He sighed wearily, reached out a hand for her own. But she avoided him neatly, knowing somehow that if he touched her all of this nice numbness would wear off again. She’d sob out her love for him, her pain, her utter confusion. She’d be back to being Serena the basket case, a role she hated but had played again and again for him.

“I’m fine, Kevin. It was the first thing that came on when I turned on the TV.”

“And you couldn’t change the channel?”

“I chose not to.” She brushed past him, headed down the hall toward the bedroom.

He grabbed her arm, spun her around until they were face-to-face. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Serena? This isn’t like you.” His eyes glared furiously at her.

“Nothing, Kevin.” She sighed, yanked her arms out of his grasp. “It’s late. I just want to sleep.”

She crawled into bed and closed her eyes, keeping her back to Kevin as she feigned sleep. Even with her eyes closed and her back turned, she knew that he lay awake watching her for hours before sleep finally claimed him. Dawn’s ribbons of red and orange streaked across the sky before she could say the same.

* * *

Serena came awake slowly, gradually becoming aware that she was alone in bed. It was the only time since they’d first made love that Kevin hadn’t woken her with a long, leisurely session of lovemaking. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his omission. While part of her rejoiced at the distance that would allow her time to think, another part of her wept at the small light that had gone out of their relationship.

She sat up slowly, stretching as questions whirled through her head. Had she completely blown things with Kevin? Or would he be willing to take what she was capable of offering? It was nothing compared to what he wanted from her and she knew he wouldn’t be satisfied forever. But, please God, let him still want her for a little while longer. Let him not be ready to end things right now, today. No matter how selfish it was, she wanted just a little more time with him. She knew she’d pay for it later, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when his scent was all around her and the heat from his body still lingered on the sheets.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted slowly into the room. She was dying for a cup, but getting one meant facing Kevin and she didn’t think she was ready for that yet. But she could at least get up and take a shower. Buy herself some time to decide what to do.

Her cell phone rang and she froze in the act of climbing out of bed. Her eyes darted to the nightstand where she’d dumped her purse the previous night and for a second she considered taking the cowardly way out and not answering it. She didn’t think she could take another call from Damien the Deranged.

But in the end she picked it up, because the detectives had put a trace on the phone and because for her the unknown was rapidly becoming worse than the known. “Unknown number” flashed across the screen and she took a deep breath to steel herself before hitting the accept call button. “Hello?”

“Serena? This is Steve.” At the familiar voice, the tension inside of her dissolved as quickly as it had come. She glanced up to see Kevin in the doorway, a mug of coffee in his hand and a furious scowl on his face as he glared at the phone.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” she said, emphasizing his name as she spoke. Kevin relaxed and walked lazily into the room, extending the cup of coffee to her as he got closer. “Lost another phone, huh?”

She took the mug gratefully and sipped, not caring if she burnt her tongue. She avoided Kevin’s eyes, shocked at how ashamed she felt after last night. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, had only been protecting herself. But as she glanced briefly into his eyes, she couldn’t miss the pained shadows that hadn’t been there the day before.

She listened as Steve outlined the plans for the showing he had gotten her, shocked at how many pieces he needed delivered in a relatively short amount of time.

“Steve,” she protested, when he had finally wound down. “I’m not sure I can handle that many. At least not with my recommendations for matting and framing. Not with the photos of Kevin coming due and the ad campaign you want me to start next week.”

“I’ve got faith in you, luv. You can do anything. Besides, don’t worry about frame and mat recommendations—you know the galleries never like what the artist picks out anyway.”

“But—”

“No time to chat! Say hi to Kevin for me and I’ll call you with the rest of the details next week. Meanwhile, make sure you include some shots of Kevin in what you send. And some from your Gulf of Mexico series as well. Those are fabulous. Gotta go!”

Serena stared at the dead phone in her hand with a combination of shock and chagrin. “You’re right,” she told Kevin, who was still perched next to her on the bed. “He really doesn’t understand the whole nurture-the-client-relationship thing.”

“I told you. The man’s a Nazi.” Kevin’s grin was at half-wattage, but at least the shadows had lifted from his eyes. “I’m making breakfast. If you’re interested.”

She took his hand, aware that it was one of the first times she’d ever reached for him. Maybe she did know what to do after all. “I am interested. Very interested.” She flashed him a smile. “Particularly if there are pancakes involved.”

“Waffles okay?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Even better.” She leaned forward, kissed him smackingly on his lips even as she avoided his eyes. “I’m starving.”

Kevin watched her go, bemused and more than a little angry. How could she blow so hot and cold? She’d pushed him away so coldly and absolutely last night that he’d been sure she’d try to end things this morning. Not that he’d had any intention of letting her, but he’d prepared for a struggle. He certainly hadn’t planned on lighthearted banter from her.

Eyes narrowed, he headed toward the bathroom door, determined to get an answer for her strange behavior last night and even stranger behavior this morning. He had just crossed the threshold when her cell rang again, and he picked it up, expecting it to be Steve. “What’d you forget this time?” he asked.

The wave of obscenities that answered his casual question was so filthy that it made him ill just thinking of Serena subjected to it. It was a struggle to keep his voice even as he replied, “Damien, I presume?”

His question was answered with threats and more obscenities, followed by an immediate disconnect. He hit a button to get the last incoming number and dialed it, not in the least surprised when it wasn’t answered. Probably another throwaway cell phone.

Fury surged through him, nearly consuming him with its fire. He’d been pissed when he’d heard about the phone calls, shaken after the car accident, and royally ticked after he’d heard about her car. But as he’d listened to the filth spewing through the phone lines, he’d grown frightened for Serena. Really frightened. This guy wasn’t just sociopathic, wasn’t just out for some twisted kind of revenge. He was seriously unhinged, so unhinged that Kevin feared for Serena’s life on a whole new level.