THE BLACK HEART KILLER
The FBI saw an immediate connection between the deaths of the men in Utah, California, Michigan, and Texas. They had collected various wedding photos of the woman with her husbands. In almost all of them, she had tried to hide her face in some way. However, a couple of the photos were good enough to map out some basic characteristics. She was young, tall, and willowy. Of course, that narrowed it down to about ten million women. Yet, she had a couple of distinguishing features. The first was her waist length flame red hair. Each photo showed the same hair, styled only a little differently. The second was her teeth. One front tooth lapped slightly over the other. 'Samantha Crump,' dubbed as the Black Heart Killer or 'BHK' for short, had left a trail of dead men from the west coast to the north. FBI agents assigned to the case decided that her next victim would probably reside in the mid-west, possibly Illinois or perhaps Missouri. It was time to make some phone calls.
* * *
She was preparing for yet another evening out with her prey. She had been seeing him steadily now for a few weeks. They had been together almost every night, but she had yet to allow him to take her to bed. It had been a difficult fight. He was very sexual, insistent, and aggressive. She wanted to get him to the point of begging before she relented. She thought it might draw him closer to her. Although she found him thrilling, he also frustrated her greatly. He was very tight lipped about his job, and refused to share any details about what he did other than a few basic things. Her research had uncovered little. She only knew his full name, birth date, and his place of birth. The rest she had learned from following him. She had even taken to going to a shooting range every day to learn how to handle the weapon he preferred. She had devised an extermination plan, but she wanted to get more information on his finances first. He was a federal employee who probably made less per year than she had inherited in one day. But there was something else. She wasn't exactly after him for his money. She typically went after the money first. This one was different. He was special. She didn't want his money; she wanted to bring him down. If she could bring down a federal agent, she could do anything. Once she finally agreed to sleep with him, he would be hers.
* * *
Not many people knew that Frank Donovan could cook. It wasn't a skill he could readily demonstrate in his line of work. When he was growing up, his mother insisted on teaching all her children to cook, not just his sisters. Of all the lessons she taught him, he was most grateful for this one. Since Loralei was so fond of Chinese food, he wasn't sure how she would enjoy this particular meal. He had been seeing her for three weeks, but he still felt nervous before each date. He could never quite figure out why. They had an easy relationship, and he had shared more secrets with her than he ever spilled in his life. His family was probably the only people who knew more about him.
Donovan smiled to himself when he thought back to his announcement earlier today. He told Monica and Cody that he was leaving early. Of course, they gave him the same puzzled looks he had grown to love. He rarely left early, and when he did, he never explained why. At times, he enjoyed leaving people hanging. His secretive games actually amused him. It wasn't that he liked toying with his team's emotions, but he never understood why they were all so interested in what he did after hours. Seconds after he made his announcement, Monica passed along a message from Jake stating that he was taking off early as well.
Cody had quipped, "Hot dates?"
Donovan had lifted his eyebrow and grinned. "Could be."
Although his developing relationship was quite thrilling, there was also something disturbing about Loralei. Her continued refusals of his advances were driving him insane. Each night, he literally burned to make love to her, but she always begged off. Of course, he backed away. The odd thing was, he knew she wanted him as well. Her denial of her own desires didn't exactly mentally hurt him, and he would never become angry with her, but if she didn't let him have her soon, he would resort to begging. Frank Donovan wasn't quite above that. That was another thing not many people knew or would learn any time soon. He had control over his impulses, he knew when to say when, but he was losing his patience.
Donovan glanced up at the wall clock hanging just above the stove. Loralei would arrive in about an hour. He hoped the main course would be ready by the time she strolled through the door. In the meantime, he threw together his special Caesar salad, topped with a creamy dressing that had been passed down for generations, the ingredients only divulged through threats of torture.
* * *
Jake had agreed to meet Zara at her place. What pleased them both was the fact that Zara lived only a couple of streets over from Jake. They could literally walk to the other's apartment if they so desired. Jake had been dating Zara as steadily as Donovan had with Loralei. As much as Donovan, Jake was frustrated. Zara was an all-out tease. In the three weeks they had been seeing each other, she had learned all his buttons, and she liked to push them every chance she got. She would arouse him to the point of physical discomfort, and then would draw away, breathless and apologetic.
He couldn't count the number of times he had told her she didn't need to apologize. He wanted her, and she seemed to want him, but the moment he would press forward, she would back away. There was a night he recalled that was particularly frustrating. They were in their second week of steady dating, and she had met him at his place. They were on the living room sofa, half undressed, at the point where he was almost inside her, but she had asked him to stop. He agreed readily enough, but he couldn't deny he was disappointed.
"Sex is a big deal to me," she had whispered. "I don't want to fuck you and leave. I want more."
Jake actually couldn't argue that point. He felt the same, but he couldn't quite verbalize it. He understood and let her know he did. Still, she resisted. They had shared equally intense moments since, and he had been more than happy to stop even when he didn't think he could. He would stick it out with her as long as it took, because he was beginning to care for her, and he didn't want to do anything to screw it up. He hadn't met a woman like Zara Damon in a long time.
He felt silly knocking on her door, but he did it anyway. She called out to him to come inside, and he didn't hesitate. His heart skipped a beat as he opened the door. He wasn't sure if he was feeling lust or love, but whatever it was, it was wonderful. As he entered the room, his jaw dropped. Zara had extinguished every light in the small apartment and lit the living room with several large candles. She had managed to get a bottle of champagne and a large bowl of chocolate covered strawberries. At first, he didn't see her.
"Zara?"
At the sound of his voice, she stepped out from the bathroom wearing a filmy negligee. With no more than it covered, she could have just walked out naked. Either way, he wouldn't have minded. His heart began to pound and it seemed as if every drop of blood in his body gathered between his thighs. She approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"No diga una palabra, mi amor. Déjeme tomar el cuidado de usted," she whispered. ("Don't say a word, my love. Let me take care of you.")
"Oh mi dios, usted parece delicioso. Usted me está conduciendo insano." His voice was deep and husky, thick with lust. ("Oh my God, you look delicious. You're driving me insane.")
"Venido, mi amor. Esta noche, estaco mi demanda en usted," she said. ("Come, my love. Tonight, I stake my claim on you.")
* * *
When Donovan's doorbell rang promptly at 8:00 p.m., he had to fight to avoid running to the door. He couldn't believe that in three weeks, he had become some lovesick sap. He opened the door to Loralei, and his eyes drank her in greedily. She wore a short sleeveless black dress that hugged her breasts and waist, but fell loosely about the rest of her body. She had put up her gorgeous auburn hair, and he wondered if tonight would be the night he would see it fanned out across his pillow. He couldn't take his eyes off her for a very long time.
Loralei did her own once over. Donovan had tossed aside his 'basic black' attire and had gone for a light blue button down shirt and blue jeans. He was even barefoot. She couldn't believe it. She had never seen him without business attire. It didn't matter what he wore, he was always absolutely beautiful. They didn't say one word. Instead, Loralei entered his apartment and went easily into his embrace. He kissed her, and again, he tasted strawberries. Loralei plunged her hands into his hair as his hands moved from her waist to her breasts. He cupped them into his hands, and immediately felt her nipples hardening against them. She pressed her body forward, straining against his hands. Jesus, no bra, he thought. What would he do if she wouldn't make love to him tonight?
She broke the kiss while his hands continued to press, squeeze, and knead. Her control was shattering like fine crystal. "This is very nice," she said, "but can we eat first? I'm starving."
He sighed and placed a gentle kiss to the side of her throat. Before drawing away, he inhaled her scent. Strawberries. "If we must," he whispered huskily against her skin. "I know what I'd rather have right now."
She closed her eyes and sighed. "It sounds wonderful, Frank, but I need energy if you're going to keep me up all night."
* * *
Jake couldn't sleep. There was no reason that he shouldn't be able to shut down. After so many weeks of teasing, games, and seduction, he and Zara had made exhausting love. She had fed him strawberries until he thought he would vomit. Then, she did a wicked trick. She had taken one of the chocolate covered berries and drew lines all over her body with it. Although he had sworn he'd never eat anything chocolate ever again in his life, he had tasted those lines, followed them up every curve of her body. By the time he was finished, she was begging him to make love to her. Of course, Jake was so worked up; she didn't have to say one word. Making love to Zara was like opening up an old book shelved for years, everything came out all at once. It was rough and ready, animalistic and wild. She had scratched him up all the way to his buttocks, and he even thought a couple of them might have bled. The wait had made it even more intense. When it was over, he could have died right then and there a happy man.
* * *
Loralei had eaten slowly, savoring every bite of the meal. Donovan picked at his. He liked to cook, but didn't necessarily like to eat what he prepared. He had trouble taking his eyes off her face. Every now and then, she would look up and meet his gaze. When she first began dating him, she had trouble with the way he gazed at her. She had never met a man like Frank Donovan before. He had the ability to consume her with his lovely brown eyes. No other man had ever done that before. She wasn't accustomed to such an intense gaze or an equally intense man. Since she had begun to feel comfortable with him, she loved it when he looked at her. He wanted her, it was obvious. He had wanted her since their first date. Tonight, she knew she couldn't deny him.
"Frank, I had no idea you were so domestic," she said with a smile.
"Be glad you didn't see earlier. I had my apron on and everything. You would have loved that."
She laughed. "I'm sure I would. You probably looked very cute."
He shrugged and smiled crookedly. "Or very silly."
Loralei rose and took her plate with her. "You could never look silly, Frank."
She took her plate over to the kitchen counter and set it down. He turned and gazed at her as she took her plate and began to rinse it.
"Loralei, what are you doing," he asked incredulously.
"What does it look like, Frank? I'm helping out the host," she said with her back to him.
Donovan stood and approached her. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her body toward his. She was still holding the plate tightly in her hand. "It can wait," he said, his voice falling into her ear. "I can't."
His lips found the side of her delicate throat and his teeth nipped at her flesh. Her mouth dropped open in a passionate 'O.' His arm came up and slid down the length of hers. He grabbed her hand and wrenched the plate out of it. It fell to the bottom of the sink with a hearty THUNK.
"I think you broke that," she said breathlessly.
He chuckled. "I have others."
Barely giving her time to react, Donovan turned her body toward his and his lips swooped in for a deep kiss. Their tongues seemed to duel for control of the kiss and their teeth were close to clicking together. His hands came up from her waist to the back of her dress. Slowly, his fingers drew the zipper down. Her hands literally ripped open his shirt. After weeks of denying him, her control flew out the window. Within seconds, her hands were inside his shirt, finally on his chest, touching his warm skin.
Taking her hand into his, he broke the kiss and drew away from her. Her dress was nearly falling off her, and she had to hold it with her free hand as he led her into the bedroom. Once they stood before each other, Donovan took her hand away from the dress and drew the garment away from her body. After it was past her waist, it slipped effortlessly off, pooling at her feet. Her breasts were creamy and full; the nipples were red toned, like her hair. They were erect and waiting for his attention. But first, he had to look at her, to drink her in like he never had before. He slid his hands down each side of her waist and let them drift onto her shapely hips. She had on a garter belt and stockings, and that was a huge turn on for him. He cupped her buttocks in his hands and drew her to him again. He didn't kiss her; he gazed at her helplessly, wondering what this exquisite creature had done to him to make him feel so hungered, so fevered.
She drew away from him reluctantly. He thought she was going to deny him again, and he opened his mouth to protest. She placed a finger over his lips before stripping him out of his shirt. "I refuse to make love to a man while he's still wearing his shirt, Frank," she said with a lusty smile.
Together, they made quick work of his jeans and briefs. Loralei took a few moments to take him in. His body was long and lean with solid muscle running throughout his body. Feeling a bit awkward, and perhaps a little shy, she took a quick peek below his waist and moaned at the sight of him. He was a bit on the eager side. Of course, she was as well, and she definitely couldn't hold that against him. He led her to the bed. She went down to it first, and he came after. Leaning over her, his mouth and tongue traced a delicate line from her mouth, to her chin, and stopped before progressing lower. She moaned a frustrated protest.
He said nothing. Instead, he grinned at her. I am evil, I'm convinced, he thought. His mouth resumed its caress on her ribcage before stopping again at her abdomen. She sighed and arched her back a bit as his fingers hooked onto the side of her silken panties. She had forgotten all about them. With movements that could only be described as slow and deliberate, he eased the undergarment down, slipping it past her hips, down her long, shapely legs, and finally off her body. There was still her stockings and garter to worry about, but he thought better of it. He wanted them left on. Her spiky heeled sandals would have to go. He didn't know if he liked the idea of those heels digging into him. One at a time, he slipped each sandal off.
He moved his body back up over hers, his hands and mouth following the trail he had made on the way down. His lips stopped at her nipples and he drew each one into his mouth, grazing them with his teeth, teasing them until she begged for mercy. He wanted to take more time to explore, to see if she tasted like strawberries everywhere. His strength was fading. She had made him wait too long, and all he could think about was sinking inside her, drowning, losing all space and time.
* * *
Incredible sex. Extreme exhaustion. She had held out just long enough. He was hers now.
