She stared at him in shock as he blurted it out. Love? She’d suspected it, but she hadn’t been prepared for him to say it so soon. Sure, they had known each other most of their lives, but they’d only really done something about it in the last twenty-four hours, they’d never even slept together before last night.
Her mouth opened automatically to say the words back, but they stuck in her throat.
It wasn't that she didn’t return Sam’s sentiments, but how could she tell him that she loved him too, that she had loved him for years now, when she was planning to give herself up to a deranged stalker which had a very real possibility that she would never return home.
“I love you, Naomi,” Sam repeated. His thumb hooked under her chin and tilted her face toward his. He kissed her, slowly and sweetly this time, with more emotion than passion. It was a tender kiss. A kiss of real love. Of commitment. Of a future.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
Apparently, she had been wrong. She had thought there was nothing that Sam could say that would change her mind about sacrificing herself, but maybe there was. Maybe this changed everything.
* * * * *
3:54 P.M.
He was ready now.
He was tired of playing games, he’d tortured her enough, now it was time to come for her.
Naomi would have been shaken to the core by the attack on her sister.
So, it hadn’t worked out exactly as he’d planned, oh well. It had still had the desired effect. Would it have been a much more powerful message if Clara Candella had been killed? Yes, of course. But at least Naomi knew that it was all her fault.
The sister had really caught him by surprise.
He had not anticipated her noticing his reflection in the bookcase door. A mistake on his part, but at least it wasn't too serious a mistake. He had thought he had her at the top of the stairs, but they had both lost their footing, tumbling down to the bottom. Then he had thought he had her again, he’d gotten her down on the floor, had the knife poised above her ready to strike, but she’d gotten in two blows and then managed to call for help. He had severely underestimated her. He hadn’t realized she had enough spunk to fight back. The blows had hurt, even managed to draw blood, but he didn’t think that she’d broken his nose.
As soon as Clara had screamed, he had known he had to flee.
Luckily, he hadn’t hesitated to make that decision.
Someone had come running after him as he had run from the house. He wasn't sure who the man was, and he hadn’t gotten close enough for him to get a good look. He’d had a getaway car parked just around the corner, and he’d made it to it well before the man chasing him had a chance to catch him.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone after Naomi’s sister while her cop fiancé and a bodyguard were waiting for her right outside the house. He hadn’t expected Jonathon Dawson to come home with her. He’d thought she would come alone, and he would have her lying dead on the floor ready to be discovered by her fiancé when he arrived home.
There were going to be no more mistakes.
It was time to move in closer.
He was fully prepared to take out anyone who stood between him and Naomi. Nothing was going to stop him from having her.
Tomorrow was the day. He just really couldn’t wait another day to have her. He needed her. Every second he wasn't with her his body physically ached for her. It had been too long. Way too long. So enough was enough. It was time to make his move and go get her.
He was literally salivating at the thought of having her again. Of being able to touch her, to feel her, to do to her whatever he pleased. He loved every inch of her, those toned legs, that flat stomach, those full lips, those large, long-lashed eyes, that silky hair, she was so perfect. So perfect. Almost too good to be true. But she was true, she was real, and she would soon be his, all his. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
* * * * *
5:03 P.M.
“I have bad news,” Allina announced to the gathering. Heidi, Rylla Franklin, and Matthew Greer all looked up at her. Jonathon was off this case now, he had refused to leave his fiancée and Allina couldn’t blame him. She could imagine how terrifying it would have been to hear the person you loved scream and then come running in to find them lying on the floor bleeding. Clara was extremely lucky to have survived the attack with relatively minor injuries, so far no one else had encountered this guy and made it out alive.
“How bad?” her boss demanded.
“Pretty bad.”
Steeling herself, Heidi asked, “What is it?”
“Harry Caucchi is not Naomi’s stalker.”