Vow of Silence Page 14

  A low groan rumbled in his chest, and his tongue swept the seam of her lips. At the heated sensation flushing through her, Hannah startled, jerking back with a broken gasp. This was not how Josiah kissed her eight years ago. Her fingers trembled as she raised them to her lips, eyes staring at him wide with surprise. She’d never experienced anything like this…

  A blasphemy flew from his mouth before he could bite it back, and another quickly followed because of the first.

  Her shocked stare grew as Josiah ran a shaking hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, Hannah…”

  She wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the kiss or the curse—maybe both. “Is this…” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, but she had to know. “Is this the way all Englishers kiss?” Hannah wished she could say it was unpleasant. Surely, it must be a sin to touch another with your tongue, if for no other reason than that the startling pleasure it gave couldn’t be pure. The places she felt his kiss, they weren’t permissible for him to touch, and yet it made her ache there terribly. The discomfort deep inside her made Hannah want to beg him for relief from something she understood nothing about.

  “Yeah, I guess it is…”

  “Ya kiss a lot of girls like that, then, Josiah Troyer?” The idea of him kissing anyone, let alone with his…his tongue, upset her. It mattered not that she had no right to be angry. She’d been married, after all. She’d experienced the ways between a husband and wife, though Hannah was quite certain her knowledge was severely lacking compared to his. She’d never even seen her husband fully naked, nor had he seen her as such.

  Josiah regarded her cautiously, seeming to contemplate his response, as if trying to decide if this was a trick question, he should defer from answering. “I suppose I have. More than I care to discuss with ya.” There it was again, that slip of his accent he seemed so determined to hide. “Look, I’m sorry, Hannah. I should go…”

  Once again, the differences between them seemed like an unbridgeable void. She was out of Josiah’s league, and the truth of it was never more obvious than with just a simple kiss. Why would he ever want her and her inexperienced touch when he’d known the pleasure of women from the outside world? She understood little of satisfying a man and had made no effort to learn. “Pleasure” was not the word she’d use to describe coupling. It was her duty to her husband. Just a chore—one among many others that comprised her life.

  Hannah was tired of numbness and sick of watching life pass her by. She loved her son with all her heart and wouldn’t trade him for the world, but since Josiah returned, she couldn’t help but wonder what if… And those were dangerous thoughts for a plain Amish woman to have.

  Josiah turned to leave, but Hannah grabbed his arm. His muscles leaped beneath her touch. The words fled from her mouth before she could call them back. “Kiss me, Josiah…like one of yer English girls.”

  Now he was the one in shock, his expression told her he couldn’t believe she’d be so bold. She could scarcely believe it herself, but she was so tired of living with regret. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

  “Hannah…”

  He was going to refuse her. She could tell by the hesitant resignation in his voice. She’d stopped him the first time his tongue had touched her lips, and in doing so she’d declared her inexperience. Rallying the last of her nerve, she fisted her hands in his T-shirt and rose to her toes. “Dammit, Josiah, I said kiss me.”

  She crushed her mouth to his, and those butterflies took flight in her stomach again, darting south. Josiah remained statue-still for a few breathless moments, and Hannah’s nerve began to fail. But then a low rumble sounded deep in his throat.

  He growled “fuck it” against her lips and then claimed her mouth. His arm slipped around her back, hand coming up to grip her neck as he pulled her close, crushing her breasts against his chest and deepening their kiss. His tongue traced her bottom lip, but this time she was ready for it—or so she thought—because there was no preparing for the explosion of pleasure that detonated inside her when Josiah’s tongue entered her mouth and stroked against hers.

  The intimacy was shocking, the taste of him divine… His throaty groan sent her heart battering against her ribs. She gripped his shoulders as a wave of dizzying sensation came over her. They’d shared stolen kisses before—chaste pecks, a brief brushing of his lips over hers—but nothing like this.

  She tried to keep up, to return his kiss in the same manner his mouth claimed hers, but she was drowning in sensation, unable to do anything more than hold on. Her body was starved for contact. Her breasts became heavy, nipples hardening against his chest. Wetness gathered between her legs, and she began to grow self-conscious over her body’s response. His hand slid up and covered her throat, her chin cradled between his thumb and forefinger.

  His touch was as possessive as his kiss, each slant of his mouth seeming to escalate his hunger as he took from her and seemed only to grow more desperate. Heat raced through her, setting her nerve endings on fire. The blaze traveled between her legs, making her restless and achy for more.

  She knew this was getting out of hand when a rough sound erupted from his chest that sounded like a growl and his arm wrapped around her tightened. His mouth broke away and descended to her neck, leaving her breathless and dizzy as he backed her up against the wall.

  “You taste better than I remember…” He whispered against her ear. “So sweet, so fucking innocent…”

  This time his profanity did not repulse her. The husky sound of his voice sent a thrill racing through her at the whispered words. She should be ashamed at the excitement his touch stirred, but the sensation was too overwhelming, too intoxicating…

  His arousal pressed insistently against her stomach, and her own need fueled her curiosity. She didn’t want to appear unpracticed, and she wanted to touch him…just once. Boldly, she ran her hand over his chest, reveling in the hard-muscled flesh beneath her fingertips. He was larger than he’d been eight years ago—a good thirty pounds of solid muscle heavier.

  She’d never enjoyed Jacob’s weight upon her—she’d always felt trapped as he’d rutted between her legs—but the thought of Josiah taking her in such a way made her pulse quicken with desire. She shifted against him, the ache in her core making her restless. She gasped at the sensation of her nipples abrading his chest. Could he feel the firm points sparking contact? Maybe, because another growl chortled in his throat as he kissed down her neck, nipping and sucking a trail to the high collar of her dress, then slowly dragged his tongue up the path of her pounding pulse.

  She was awash in sensation, a need she didn’t understand burning inside her. It made her bold and maybe a little reckless, because all she wanted was to be closer to him, to touch him… She’d missed Josiah so much. For the first time in years, her heart was finally whole again.

  Hannah moved by instinct rather than thought. Had she considered her actions, her nerve would have faltered. She slipped her hand between them, placing it on his chest. Josiah’s heart beat rapidly against her palm as his lips found hers in a deep, possessive kiss. She was starting to get the rhythm of his mouth and joined in, countering the retreat of his tongue. He approved of her effort with a husky groan and he kissed her harder, deeper, faster.

  Her hand traveled lower to explore the ridges of muscle on his stomach. On its own accord, it dipped lower… They both let out a startled gasped when her palm touched his erection. He was very large and thickly erect. The sheer size of him both excited and alarmed her.

  Josiah jerked back with a sharp curse, giving her his back as he roughly dragged his hands through his hair. Wide shoulders heaved with each breath as he seemed to struggle to get enough air into his lungs.

  “What’s the matter? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

  Why was he acting so shocked? Surely, English women took these kinds of liberties…

  “Niet, ya did nothin’ wrong. Fuuuck…” His curse sounded self-damning, and his hands were back in his hair, pushing through the
mass as he turned to look at her. “But I… We need ta stop.”

  She nervously bit her bottom lip and found it swollen from his kiss. His hungry gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’m not sure I want to…” she confessed softly.

  She could see the torment and indecision in his eyes. He didn’t want to stop, either, that she was sure of. “Hannah, I’m ridin’ a thin line here. And I…I’m not the man ya remember. If ya still care fer me, then ye’re in love with a ghost. That man ya knew is gone, and I’d be takin’ advantage of ya.”

  Maybe he wasn’t the same man she’d fallen in love with, but there were still glimpses of the old Josiah in there. Like now, when his accent slipped. She noticed it happened whenever his desire or temper got the best of him. And just possibly she loved this new version of him more. “Yer not takin’ advantage of me, Josiah. I may be unpracticed, but I’m not ignorant.”

  He chuffed a masculine grunt and shook his head. “You might as well be, for the things I want to do to you. The ways I dream of touching you, kissing you…fucking you.”

  Okay, now he was just trying to shock her with his vulgar language. And she knew it was intentional when he dropped his accent. But his efforts weren’t working. A scandalous part of her liked his honesty. His raw words painted images in her mind she shouldn’t be thinking.

  “This isn’t fair to you. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

  If he meant to insult and embarrass her, then he was doing a fine job of it. Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing, but no man had ever aroused like this, and for once in her life she wanted to do something for herself. She wanted to experience something other than loss, heartache, and grief—even if it was only for a little while.

  “You’d be risking everything by taking me to your bed, and I can’t let you do that, Hannah. If anyone found out, you’d be excommunicated.”

  Before she could plead her case, he turned and headed for the stairs. “I have to go. If you still want to come to Hershey with me, I’ll pick you up at noon.”

  “I want to go…”

  But he was down the stairs and out the door so fast, Hannah wasn’t sure he’d heard her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “It’s starter fluid.”

  “What?” Joe closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting like hell to grasp a thread of patience. He’d walked into the office to a ringing phone. His sleep deprived mind had yet to disengage from the thoughts that had plagued him all night and shift gears to this case.

  “It’s starter fluid, on the handkerchief recovered from the cornfield yesterday.”

  “Okay…” He must really be tired because he’d yet to make the connection that seemed to have this forensic tech so jazzed. Starter fluid wasn’t an uncommon thing found on farms.

  “The ether…” the tech fed him the answer, waiting for Joe to catch on. “In the starter fluid… That’s how he’s incapacitating them.”

  “Shit…”

  “That’s exactly what I thought. We’re running an analysis on the fluid right now, hoping to find a chemical component that will isolate a specific brand.”

  “That’s great. Keep me in the know.”

  “You got it, Detective Troyer.”

  Joe hung up and sat back in the chair, exhaling deeply, and he braced his elbows on the desk, dropping his face in his hands. Finally, a step in the right direction. Hopefully this afternoon Keegan Riley would help connect a few more dots. Joe was having second thoughts about his offer to bring Hannah with him. His mind was still reeling from that kiss—and her bold touch…

  He was no longer the sweet, sensible Josiah she used to dally with in the hayloft of her father’s barn. That shy, inexperienced youth who’d never dream of stealing more than a kiss was now a man that wanted to strip her bare and claim the woman who’d been stolen from him. She’d always been the one to push those boundaries between them, trusting him to know her limits. But now that line was some blurred shade of gray.

  She was risking enough by helping him; did he really want to be responsible for her excommunication? He’d sacrificed his happiness and his life once to ensure that didn’t happen. Would all that grief be for nothing?

  No, not for nothing, because he’d finally have the only thing he’d ever wanted—Hannah.

  Since the day he’d stepped back in Lancaster, this had been one big mind-fuck. He’d finished reading Cassie’s diary last night and discovered some ugly truths that Hannah would be better off never knowing—including the real reason her father had refused Joe’s request to marry her. Many things made sense now, including why Cassie was in such a hurry to get out from under her father’s control.

  What a fucking mess…

  The more he mulled the facts of this case—four dead girls and zero witnesses, no one reporting seeing anything suspicious—Joe was growing increasingly concerned that the guy he was looking for was one of them. In their attempts to guard their secrets, these people could be harboring a killer.

  “Tough morning?”

  “Jesus!” Joe barked, startled by the feminine voice in the doorway. His head snapped up, and he locked eyes with a petite woman, no taller than five-three. Her jet-black hair was cut short in the back and a tapered longer on the sides, framing a cute pixie face. Her smile was as warm as her violet-blue eyes, studying him with a note of amusement. She wore a black business suit and had an air of confidence that made up for her puny stature.

  “Agent Riker didn’t tell you I was coming, I take it?”

  No. No, he did not. “Who are you?”

  The woman crossed his office and hefted her briefcase onto a table in the corner. She picked up the potted plant to make more room and did a little turn as she scoped out the thirteen-by-thirteen-foot space, looking for a place to set the ficus. Seeming to find no suitable home for the plant, she walked out the door and headed left, the heels of her black and white checkered pumps echoed down the hall. She returned a moment later, empty-handed.

  “That was my ficus.” It wasn’t, but Joe took exception to her barging into his office and making herself at home.

  She flashed a knowing smile and called bullshit. “No, it wasn’t. Judging by the ring of dust around the base of the pot, that plant hasn’t been moved in at least six months, and you’ve been here less than a week.”

  Clever… His top lip twitched, tugging into a begrudging grin. All right, maybe she wasn’t so bad.

  “Samantha Roth…” She approached his desk and held out her hand. “Criminal Profiler for the BAU—and your analyst.”

  Perfect. This was exactly what he needed. He could put Samantha to work weeding through the details of this case. Then, hopefully, this shit would start coming together. As with any investigation, there were a lot of rabbit trails that needed chasing down. He stood and grasped her hand, giving it a firm shake. “Detective Joe Troyer. Nice to meet you.”

  “Agent Riker should have called you—”

  Before he could respond, his cell went off. Joe glanced at the caller ID and flashed her his screen. “Speak of the devil…” Accepting the call, he pressed his cell to his ear. “Troyer.”

  “Hey, it’s SA Riker.”

  “Don’t you mean MIA Riker?”

  A burst of laughter erupted across the room, and Samantha quickly slapped her hand over her mouth. It sounded like a noise Tinker Bell would make. If the Disney character came to life, he imagined she would look like this woman.

  “Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, Troyer.”

  “I try. Where the hell are you? Thought you were supposed to be here yesterday.”

  “I’m in Louisiana.”

  “Sounds like you need a new GPS.” That one earned Joe an unexpected chuckle. Maybe SA Riker had a sense of humor after all.

  “I’ve been diverted. Lancaster isn’t my only case. I got a serial chopping up women down here, leaving them in the bayou.”

  “The Bayou Butcher? That’s your case?”

  “You heard about it?” Riker
sounded surprised and maybe a little impressed.

  “Kind of hard to forget that one. Not every day you get a killer baiting alligator lines with body parts. That’s fucked up.”

  “You’re tellin’ me. I’ve been working this case for the last eighteen months, and I’m so close to catching this bastard I can taste it. But this place…it’s a different world down here.”

  “Like Lancaster…”

  “Exactly. Different culture, different people, different way of life. Cajun’s have their own way of doing things. Not easy to earn their trust.”

  “I got ya…”

  “How are things going in Amish country?”

  “As I expected. I’ve got a few leads. Chasing one down this afternoon. Do you know if anyone’s run a search through VICAP?”

  “Check with Samantha Roth. She’s the analyst assigned to this case. I sent her there in my place so the FBI will have a visible presence until I can get there. You should be seeing her sometime today.”

  “She’s here right now.”

  Samantha paused her efforts to drag the narrow, rectangular table across the room and gave him a finger-fluttering wave, then proceeded to shove the table against the front of his desk. “I’m going to go find a chair,” she whispered, hiking her thumb toward the door.

  “I know Sam has been running some searches, trying to establish a history or connection with prior crimes similar to those in Lancaster, but I’m not sure where she’s at on it.”

  “Once she gets settled in, I’ll have her catch me up.”

  “Sam’s your Quantico contact and all-around go-to. If you have thoughts about the Barber and want to run them past me, I’m on my cell. I know this is a big case to be handling on your own, and I said I’d be there to back you up, but—”

  “It’s fine. Focus on your Bayou Butcher. Samantha and I will handle things here.”