Blind Date(77)

I take his hand and press it over my heart.

"You're incredibly fuckin' brave. I saw what happened out there. I saw him. What you both did."

I swallow and take a shaky breath. "Jacob."

Ace's jaw ticks. "He was right there the whole time, under our noses. It's always someone close."

"You couldn't have known. I didn't even know. He was good, Ace. He had everything mapped out, perfectly planned."

Ace nods, stiffly, but he does nod. "He's gone now, because of you both. You did that. You got yourself and Taylor out, and then you walked over ten miles injured, carrying your friend. You're the most incredible woman I've ever met in my entire fucking life."

"I could say the same about you, big guy." I smile weakly. "Hey, Ace?"

He looks at me.

"Why do you think he did it? Did you find out much about him?"

Ace studies me. "We're still looking, but from what we could tell about the woman who raised him, she was abusive. Possibly physically and sexually. In the few pictures we dug up, she looked very overpowering."

"He said something about her when I was in there, about her being proud."

"A lot of the times, killers do have someone they're trying to make proud of them. It could be that she abused him, made him feel worthless and pathetic. He wanted to prove to her that he wasn't. He wanted to show her he was strong. He did that in the form of manipulation and violence. In one of the photos, he was wearing a bowtie."

"Oh," I say, my chest clenching. "I guess that makes sense why he had that particular style. Still, if she was so cruel to him, so horrible, why would he want to be the same?"

"His mind isn't like yours and mine, sweetheart. It's twisted. He had the mind of a sociopath. The cool demeanor he kept, the way he involved himself in your life, that takes skill but it also takes serious lack of emotion. That's how those kinds of people get to others. They tell wild tales, they make themselves out to be amazing people. They can manipulate anyone. They're the most dangerous kind."

"I shiver when I think of the depths he went to, to get to me. The research, the careful skill … "

"He's gone now," Ace says kindly, his voice low. "He's gone."

"Why do you think he picked women who had lost someone?"

"Losing his mother was his trigger. He was probably feeling the same emotions, only in a twisted, more deranged kind of way. He targeted what he was feeling. He went for people who were alone, and sad, and broken, just like him. He tormented them, probably in ways he was tormented. Perhaps the woman who adopted him tormented him about the loss of someone in his family. It always connects back."


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I think about it, and as much as I'm glad the world has one less crazy out there, I feel bad that Jacob lived that kind of life. The kind of life that led him to do such horrible things. What was his childhood like for him to lose his mind so completely? It makes sense, now that I know more about his story, and I guess I'll never know what went on in the depths of his brain, but I imagine it was a very traumatized place.

I wonder if he's at peace now? Maybe that's how it was supposed to go for him. To switch off the demons.

I shudder.

"Thanks for telling me all that, it  …  helps," I whisper.

"Anything for you," he murmurs.

I smile over at him, so grateful he came into my life. So damned grateful.

He leans down, brushing his lips across mine. "You're changing everything for me, Hartley Watson."

I kiss him back, softly. "You've already changed everything for me, Ace Henderson."

And I wouldn't have it any other way.





TWENTY-EIGHT


"Stop fussing, Hartley," Taylor groans, slapping my hand away as I try to pull yet another blanket over her. "I'm not a cripple, you know."

I roll my eyes, reaching for the blanket again, but she slaps it away.

"Stop fighting me, will you?" I snap at her. "You've got a serious leg injury, the least you can let me do is cover you up and keep you warm."

"I can pull my own blanket up."

I give her a look. "Taylor, you're three seconds away from getting a swift kick to the shin."

She pokes a tongue out at me, takes the blanket, and jerks it up her body. "Are you happy now?"

"Not really," I mutter, eyeing the food on the coffee table beside the sofa.

"I'm not hungry."

I cross my arms. "Well I'm not leaving until you eat that, so it's your choice."