Keep Me Safe (Slow Burn #1)(67)

He smiled. “The way we figured it, if you don’t know where you’re at and haven’t seen where you’re at then our bomber can’t very well tap into your mind, which means that he won’t know where you are either.”

She blinked in astonishment. “I never thought about that. It’s . . . ​genius!”

“As much as I’d like to take credit, Eliza is the one who came up with this one.”

“She’s a smart cookie,” Ramie said with a smile. But then she rapidly sobered as the prior night’s events came crashing back around her. “Caleb, what about your house?”

He sat on the bed next to her and laced their fingers together between their thighs.

“It’s just a house,” he said. “Houses can always be rebuilt. But people can’t be replaced. I’m just thankful that we all got out alive. This entire situation has escalated out of control. He’s got to be taken down soon or there’s no telling what he’ll do next. He’s getting bolder, and that’s the last thing you want from a savvy, extremely intelligent, cunning serial killer.”

“I didn’t like your house,” she said honestly.

He chuckled. “By all means don’t spare my feelings.”

“It was so cold and austere,” she said, pursing her lips. After a moment she added, “There wasn’t any . . . ​warmth there.”

“Well, what do you say the next house I build you oversee construction and decoration. You can knock yourself out making it a home.”

She pretended to give it thought. “I may have to take you up on that.”

Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her. “Are you hungry? I can go rustle up something to eat and bring it back so you aren’t alone in solitary confinement.”

“Am I allowed to take a shower and change?”

“Of course. Just don’t stick your head out of this room. I made sure and gave you the only room in the place that doesn’t have a window so there’s no possibility of you giving our location away.”

“You make it sound like I do it intentionally,” she muttered.

He kissed her again. “Nope. But intentional or not, the same result is achieved. I’m not taking any chances with any of our safety.”

When Caleb left the room, shutting the door behind him, Ramie leaned back on the bed and forced her gaze to focus on the ceiling. Then she closed her eyes and purposely blanked her mind.

Sudden pain in her head made her gasp. Faint laughter echoed, leaving her to wonder if she’d imagined it.

You think you can hide from me?

“Caleb!”

Within seconds of her cry, Caleb threw open the door and charged inside. When he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed where he’d left her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She shook from head to toe and she hugged her arms around herself.

“Ramie, what is it?” Caleb demanded.

“He laughed,” she said, uncaring how crazy it made her sound. “I was lying here staring up at the ceiling and trying to keep my mind blank like you said and he laughed and said, ‘You think you can hide from me?’ ”

Caleb sat back down beside her and pulled her into the crook of his arm.

“He can’t see what you can’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “He can’t know what you don’t know. So yes, I’d say we do think we can hide from him. At least until we formulate a plan to take him out for good. Until then, I’m keeping you under lock and key and absolutely ignorant of your surroundings.”

“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “I’ll quit freaking out, I promise.”

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Having another person in your head gives you the right to freak out.”

“Don’t mollify me. I’ll stop being such a complete scaredy-cat. Now go get me some food and leave me to my imaginary friend. Or rather not so imaginary killer,” she said, pulling a face. “God, I can’t believe I’m joking about this. I really am losing my mind, aren’t I?”

He cupped her chin and smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “Glad I’m not the only one with an inappropriate sense of humor.”

THIRTY-THREE

THIS was a piece of cake. Hardly worthy of someone as skilled as he. His father had always said, “Charlie, the early bird gets the worm. Everyone else gets the dirt. Remember that and you’ll go far in life.”

His f**king name was Charles. Not Charlie. Charlie was a child’s name, not a man’s.

He pushed through his rage, locking it away so he could focus on the task at hand.

His breathing calmed as he stepped from the shadows of the trees. Calm settled into place. Not a single muscle in his body twitched. He was disciplined and patient. Qualities that were rewarded in life.

He approached the parked car under the cover of darkness. When he was close enough to be seen in the rear or side-view mirror, he got down on his belly and inched the remaining distance to the driver’s side door.

It was long, painstaking work designed only for those with infinite patience and eye for detail. One wrong move, one tiny slipup and he was a dead man. Instead of frightening him or making him wary, the idea of him being a marked man gave him a heady, euphoric high like none other. Only killing provided a bigger rush.

Carefully he raised up, positioning the gun with its silencer in such a way that as soon as he rose, the so-called security specialist sitting in the car keeping watch over the house and occupants would be a dead man.