him the major wiggins, if the geek had watched them in there, so much the better. It would inflame him to make a move, to make a mistake. Which was not something he was going to share with Christie.
She finished putting the covers on the mattress while he got out a flashlight and set it where she could find it easily in the dark. Everything was done. All that was left was bed.
Jesus, it had been unbelievable with just her hand. What would it be like to have it all? To take what he really wanted?
No, no. Hold it, soldier. He’d gone into that bathtub to give her what she needed. Safety. Comfort. Relaxation. It hadn’t been about sex. He hadn’t even touched her in any sensitive areas.
He wasn’t used to this. Where he traveled, the way he lived, there was no safety. Very little comfort. And relaxation usually came after a lot more alcohol than he cared to admit. But he was responsible for this woman. For keeping her alive and well.
She made it awfully tempting, though. Even with her skinny legs and her tiny little wrists, she got to him. It hurt, how badly he wanted to squash that bug of a geek who was after her. In order to do that, he had to keep his eye on the prize. He had to get her ready, make her an ally, not a liability. He had to incite the geek to rage, to make him come into the trap. And he had to make sure he was on task 24/7.
Unfortunately, the way to get the geek into position was going to seriously test Boone’s ability to stay focused.
“Hey, you okay?”
Boone blinked. Christie was standing by the bed, hands on her hips, hair all over the place. He smiled, but only for a second. “Let’s get some sleep.”
“You’re one weird dude, you know that?”
“It’s been mentioned.”
“So that’s it? We just go to sleep?”
“Best thing we can do,” he said as he stood up, to the dismay of Milo. “We need to be sharp. All in.”
“Well, for that, I’d need to have a month in Tahiti—is that on your agenda?”
“Sorry, wish I could help.”
She sighed. Looked down at her feet. “Ever slept in your boots, Boone?”
“More times than I can count.”
“I guess sneakers shouldn’t be a problem, huh?”
“I think you’ll be okay without them. Just leave them untied and ready to go.”
“Nah. If they keep me awake, I’ll reconsider.”
“Sounds good. Now climb in.”
She looked around her house, then at Milo. “Come on, boy. You get shotgun. Pardon the pun.”
Milo walked around the bed, delicately sidestepping the overhanging covers. He turned in two circles, then curled into a ball, watching Christie with clear, clever eyes.
Christie pushed back the covers and climbed in. She pulled them up her neck, but Boone could see her discomfort, even underneath the blankets. He didn’t blame her, but he hoped her exhaustion would take precedence over her fear. The only thing he could give her now was a body and a weapon at the ready. He slipped off his shoes, and he moved in next to her.
She faced Milo. Boone faced the front door. He could hear her breathing, could feel her tension. Milo licked some part of his body for longer than seemed necessary, and then, after a soft chuff, fell silent. Boone went through the scene again. Not the one in the bathroom. The one in her bedroom.
He went step-by-step through each move the geek would have taken to make it happen. He thought about where he’d put the camera and where he’d put the microphones. Boone knew without a doubt that there would be no fingerprints, no trace evidence at all. The fake blood was easy to make from common ingredients found in any supermarket. Even if the geek jerked off, which he probably had, he’d have been careful about that, too. No evidence. Nothing for the police.
But this asshole didn’t fear the police. He didn’t fear anything. Because he knew more than the cops. He was a spook, a ghost, someone who’d been into the tradecraft long enough to learn the tricks and the traps. But he was unstable, a stalker. Which probably meant he was an ex-spook.
How had he met Christie? At a party? A bar? She may have smiled at him once, in passing. Sometimes that’s all it took for a stalker to become obsessed. Or maybe it had been more. A date, several dates.
Nate had said she was picky, that she didn’t suffer fools. She’d probably dated the geek, didn’t like what she saw, and she’d kicked him to the curb.
Christie shifted, and he stopped breathing so he could listen. He had no idea how much time had passed since they’d laid down, but it was evidently long enough for her to find sleep. He closed his eyes for a moment, just feeling her body heat. They weren’t touching. The mattress was a king, which gave them some room. He wished it were a twin.
No, he didn’t. If they’d been forced together it would have made it much more difficult for him to climb out without waking her. He would wait until she had a chance to get into REM sleep, when it would be most difficult to wake her. That was approximately forty-five minutes.
As the minutes ticked by, it wasn’t the geek he thought about. Not the tape he was going to view. It was Christie’s hand. The feel of her skin. How her muscles had relaxed underneath his steady pressure. Her hair had been swept up with some kind of wooden pin, and he’d stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out exactly how it worked. It didn’t matter. the important thing was that he could see her neck so clearly. It was a lovely, slim neck. Long, delicate. Her shoulders were small, too. Such a small person.
Women in general knocked him out, but touching her had made him feel so goddamn protective. He’d never tell her that, though. She needed to feel strong. Powerful.
The geek wouldn’t get within ten feet of her, but still, she deserved to feel sure that she could take care of herself. That no man, no maniac, could take her against her will.
It would take a lot more training than he’d be able to give her. But he’d encourage her to continue once he was gone. To give herself that gift.
He listened again, her soft breath coming easily, steadily. It was still too soon. And she was too close.
Christ, why had he gotten into that tub with her? He’d thought it would help. That it would make things easier. He was a moron.
Somehow, he made it through until he felt sure she wouldn’t rouse. He got out of the bed as stealthily as if he were walking into enemy territory, and had a target painted on his back. Milo wasn’t impressed.
The two of them went into the bathroom, with a quick stop first to pick up his equipment bag. Once there, Boone sat on the toilet again, seat down, light dim. He pulled out a portable VCR that ran on batteries. Then he put the tape in.
The camera was motion-triggered. But the first motion on the tape wasn’t the geek. It was Christie. And she was in her bra and panties.
Boone fast-forwarded. The light went off, and the light stayed off, but that was okay, because the camera had infrared. It wouldn’t give Boone a
