He looked her up and down, taking in her damp hair and her sleeping attire. "I guess I should have called first."

"No, it's all right. Really." She eased back a couple of feet and invited him in with a sweeping hand gesture.

"I could have phoned you with the news, but...well, I thought it best to tell you in person." He stepped over the threshold.

Cathy's heart stopped for a millisecond. "What's wrong?"

He closed the door behind him, then looked her square in the eye. "Mike called me about ten minutes ago. Reverend Kelley died tonight, less than an hour ago."

"Oh G.o.d, no." Emotion welled up inside her. How foolish of her to believe that a prayer vigil attended by hundreds of people could actually keep Bruce Kelley alive.

"It's probably better this way," Jack said. "The guy was in horrible shape. He couldn't have made it much longer, and he was suffering in the worst way."

Cathy swallowed. "Mark suffered."

"Ah, honey, don't."

When Jack reached out and pulled her into his arms, she went without protest, gladly letting him hold her close. Encompa.s.sed within his strong embrace, she felt safe. Her every instinct told her that this was where she belonged. With Jack, the man she had once loved more than life itself.

Chapter Twenty-two

Jack wasn't sure if his motives for coming here tonight to tell Cathy about Bruce Kelley's death were totally unselfish. Maybe somewhere deep inside him, he had believed that she'd need a shoulder to lean on; maybe he'd hoped she would turn to him for comfort. h.e.l.l, he wasn't sure of anything except at this precise moment, there was nothing more important to him than the woman he held in his arms. Cathy. His Cathy.

d.a.m.n it, man, she hasn't been your Cathy in nearly seventeen years, if she ever was, even back then.

She's mourning the man who replaced you in her bed and in her heart. She's crying for Mark Cantrell. She's hurting because she's remembering how much he suffered before he died.

Jack couldn't move, could barely breathe. All he could do was hold her and let her cry it out. While she trembled, sobs racking her body, he rubbed her back soothingly and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

G.o.d d.a.m.n it, he hated seeing her like this.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there, just a few feet from the front door, Cathy secure in his arms. Finally, she lifted her head from his chest and gazed up into his eyes. His body tightened. His gut clenched painfully.

"You loved him a lot, didn't you?" Jack didn't know why the h.e.l.l he'd asked her such a stupid question. Wasn't the answer obvious?

"No." The one word erupted in a hoa.r.s.e gasp. She shook her head gently and lowered her gaze.

He cupped her chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilted her face so that she couldn't avoid looking right at him. "Want to tell me about it? Why you married him, why you had a nervous breakdown six months after he died, why you're still mourning him?"

"Does any of that really matter?"

"Apparently it does, at least to you."

"I don't want to talk about any of that. Not tonight. And I don't want to discuss Mark with you. It's not fair to you or to his memory. He was a good husband, a good father, a fine human being. It wasn't his fault that..." She turned her head and pulled away from Jack.

He followed her as she fled, catching up with her when she stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room. He came up behind her, mere inches separating their bodies, but he didn't touch her.

"You've got to know that I don't want to hurt you," he told her, his voice low and husky. "I heard somebody say once that when a man wants to f.u.c.k a woman and wants to protect her at the same time, then he's in love. I don't know if that's true or not, but it sure is how I feel."

She whipped around and faced him, her eyes wide, her expression filled with longing. "I haven't been with anyone. Not since Mark died."

"If you're still not ready...if the time isn't right, I'll understand. But I swear, honey, I'm about half out of my mind wanting you."

"Oh, Jack."

She all but flung herself at him, flying straight into his waiting arms. "I don't care anymore if it's the right time, if I'm ready, if I'll regret it in the morning, if all you want is s.e.x. I just plain don't give a d.a.m.n."

Her face glowed with the brightness of her smile, and that beautiful smile lit up his whole world, a world that had shrunk to include only the two of them.

Jack lifted her off her feet and up into his arms. He practically ran toward her bedroom. The door stood wide open. A single bedside lamp glowed dimly. The covers had been turned down, and her bed welcomed them.

When John Earl went into the kitchen for a late evening snack, intending to cut himself a piece of Ruth Ann's homemade pecan pie, he was surprised to find his mother-in-law sitting at the table, a mug of hot tea cupped in her hands. She glanced up at him as he entered the kitchen, and they exchanged weary smiles. Faye knew that he tolerated her presence in their home for Ruth Ann's sake. He tried not to blame her for what had happened to Ruth Ann, but if Faye had stood up to her husband...If, if, if.

"You're up late," John Earl said.

"I was restless," Faye replied. "Those sleeping pills don't help much any more. I thought some tea might help. What about you? I thought you and Ruth Ann went to bed right after we got home from church."

"She did. She's been asleep for more than half an hour. But I couldn't get that delicious pecan pie off my mind, so I sneaked back down here for a piece."

"Why don't you sit down and let me get you some pie and fix you a cup of tea to go with it?" Faye suggested.

"Thanks. That would be nice."

Just as Faye downed the last drops of her tea and scooted back her chair, the sound of agonized screams echoed down the back stairs and into the kitchen.

"My G.o.d, that's Ruth Ann." Faye started toward the stairs.

John Earl moved quickly and dashed ahead of her. He took the steps two at a time and reached the partially open bedroom door before Faye was halfway up the stairs.

John Earl flung open the door and ran into the room. There in the semi-darkness he saw Ruth Ann thrashing about in their bed, her eyes closed, her dark hair disheveled, her arms flinging back and forth as if she were fighting off an attacker. Dear Lord, help her. Dear Lord, help her. His poor, sweet Ruth Ann could not escape the nightmare that had haunted her all their married life. It had taken years for the nightmares to subside from a few times each week to only occasional unwanted visits. But recently, with two more clergymen murdered-burned to death-those old dreams had resurfaced. His poor, sweet Ruth Ann could not escape the nightmare that had haunted her all their married life. It had taken years for the nightmares to subside from a few times each week to only occasional unwanted visits. But recently, with two more clergymen murdered-burned to death-those old dreams had resurfaced.

John Earl hurried to his wife, called her name as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached down to pull her gently into his arms. "Wake up, Ruth Ann. It's all right. You were only dreaming."

She beat on his chest, whimpering incoherently.

"It's John Earl, sweetheart. Open your eyes. You're safe. No one can hurt you."

When he heard movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Faye standing just inside the doorway. He shook his head.

"Can you understand what she's saying?" Faye asked, a concerned look in her sad eyes.

"No, not this time." He gave his mother-in-law a warning glare, silently cautioning her. The three of them knew the truth, knew what Ruth Ann had endured at the hands of her cruel father. If not for their daughters overhearing her and asking questions, it wouldn't matter what she said in the throes of her subconscious nightmare memories.

"I'll go to my room and leave her to you," Faye told him. "In the past, whenever I've tried to calm her, I've only made matters worse. She needs you. Only you."

He ignored Faye's final comments and focused all his attention on his wife. It took several more tries, with him saying her name and rea.s.suring her that she was safe, before she opened her eyes and recognized him. When she did, she gazed at him like a lost child, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I'm having those dreams more often," she said. "They're getting worse. And they seem so real. It's as if I'm reliving what happened over and over again."

He took both her hands in his. "I wish there was something I could do. But I can't change the past, and I can't stop the Fire and Brimstone Killer. Even the police seem unable to stop these brutal murders."

She squeezed his hands. "Oh, John Earl, don't you see? In my heart I know that I'm as guilty of murder as the person who killed Mark Cantrell and the others."

"Don't talk nonsense, sweetheart. There is no comparison whatsoever. You were the victim, not the perpetrator."

Ruth Ann closed her eyes as if she could block out the memories by shutting out the light. "He didn't scream, you know. He didn't make a sound. He was asleep, a drugged sleep. And the house burned down around him."

"I know. I know."

She opened her eyes and stared right at John Earl. "If I had it to do over again...That's the terrible part. I don't think I would do anything different. I would still let him die. G.o.d forgive me."

A soft, quiet voice calling to him alerted John Earl that Ruth Ann's screams had awakened their elder daughter.

"Daddy, is Mama all right?" Charity asked.

"Oh mercy," Ruth Ann whimpered. "Go talk to her, explain that it was just a stupid nightmare."

John Earl eased her backward until her head rested on the down pillow. Then he rose to his feet and turned to face his daughter. Correction, his daughters. Felicity stood directly behind her older sister, both girls peering into the room, their eyes filled with questions and concerns.

He walked out into the hall, shooing them back as he closed the bedroom door. "Your mother had a nightmare. She's all right now."

"She's been having a lot of nightmares lately," Felicity said.

"She used to have them all the time when we were little," Charity said. "You just don't remember."

"You two go back to bed. Everything is all right," he told them as he moved in between them and placed one arm around Charity and the other arm around Felicity.

"She's worried about something bad happening to you, isn't she?" Felicity asked. "She's afraid the person who killed all those other preachers might try to kill you."

"Yes, I'm sure that's it," he agreed. "You know what a worrier your mother is."

"You need to convince her that nothing bad is going to happen to you, not like what happened to those other men," Charity said. "You're a good man, Daddy. G.o.d will take care of you."

He leaned over and kissed Charity's forehead. "Yes, He will. And He'll take care of your mother, too. So stop worrying. Go to bed and get a good night's rest. Everything will be better in the morning."

John Earl wanted to believe what he'd said, but if Ruth Ann continued to have the old nightmares, things would get worse instead of better.

Jack set Cathy on the edge of her bed, leaned down and slowly pulled her pajama top up and over her head. She lifted her arms, closed her eyes and savored the moment as the cool air touched her nipples and hardened them to tight buds. When she heard his indrawn breath, she opened her eyes and found him kneeling in front of her, his gaze on her throbbing b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wanted to scream "Touch me," but she couldn't get the words past the knot in her throat.

Mark had wanted her to talk during s.e.x, something she found difficult because she'd been so afraid she would call out Jack's name. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about Jack and the way she'd felt when they had made love.

Don't think about Mark. What I had with him has nothing to do with what's happening now. This is all about Jack and me. I don't have to dream that it's Jack making love to me. The dream has become a reality.

When she reached for him, intending to unb.u.t.ton his shirt, he grabbed her hands, brought them to his lips and kissed them. She shivered. And before she realized what he was doing, he had unb.u.t.toned his shirt halfway and then dragged it up over his head and tossed it on the floor.

"Might as well get a good look now, honey. It's not a pretty sight." He turned slowly so that she could see his chest, his side and then his back. "The scars from Nolan's beatings are nothing compared to what that explosion did to me."

He knelt in front of her, his gaze cast downward at the scars covering the right side of his body from shoulder to waist.

As she looked at the thick, discolored scar tissue, she sucked in her breath. "Oh, Jack...Jack." With an unsteady hand, she reached out and skimmed her fingertips gently over his chest. "It must have been horrible. The pain had to be excruciating."

He covered her hand where it lay in the center of his chest. "It's pretty repulsive, isn't it? I wouldn't blame you if-"

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his shoulder, then carefully, tenderly, distributed kisses over his battle scars.

Jack closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

When she lifted her head, she reached out and unbuckled his belt. He opened his eyes, looked up at her and smiled. Then he rose to his feet, unzipped his pants and kicked them off. He stood before her in his brown and black striped briefs, his hairy legs powerful, his scarred chest broad and muscular, his arms large and strong.

"You've filled out nicely," she told him, a teasing smile twitching the corners of her mouth.

"So have you, honey." He opened his hands and covered the undersides of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, lifting them gently as he lowered his mouth to her left nipple.

She whimpered the moment his warm, moist mouth made contact with her hot flesh.

"You like that?"

"Yes," she replied on an indrawn breath.

He switched to the other breast. She cupped the back of his head with one hand, encouraging him to continue, and clamped her other hand over his shoulder to brace herself.

While he laved her nipples, moving back and forth from one breast to the other, he slipped both hands inside the waistband of her pajamas and slid them under her b.u.t.tocks, lifting her enough to maneuver the bottoms down her hips. She cooperated fully and helped him strip her naked.

Jack pushed her farther back in the bed and then came down over her, straddling her, his knees on either side of her thighs. She reached up between them and caressed his straining s.e.x through the thin barrier of his cotton briefs.

He pushed her hand away as he licked a path from her collarbone to her belly b.u.t.ton. Cathy trembled with s.e.xual longing. When he parted her legs and touched her intimately, her b.u.t.tocks tightened and her body instinctively thrust upward. He moved lower through the thatch of curls, and his tongue found her c.l.i.toris and began stroking gently. She whimpered and moaned and latched on to his shoulders as he increased the depth and strength of his laps.

While his mouth worked feverishly, he kept one hand under her b.u.t.t and brought the other up to caress her nipples. Within minutes, Cathy became mindless, her entire being centered on achieving pleasure. Her body arched higher. Jack licked and sucked and lapped with an intensity that brought Cathy to the brink and then tossed her headlong into an explosive o.r.g.a.s.m.