Don't Trust A Killer Read online

  “Because you want me,” he rasped. “And I want you. Soon enough, we’ll have to do something about that desire.” His eyes were on her mouth. “I’d like a real taste.”

  So, would she. For a moment, she imagined sinking her fingers into his dark hair and pulling his head toward her. She could already feel the thrust of his tongue in her mouth, the hunger in his kiss. The need that would sweep through them both.

  “But if I kiss you the way I want, we might wind up fucking on the streets of New Orleans.”

  She shoved against his chest. “In your dreams.”

  “Absolutely.” He backed away. “And in reality, anytime you’re ready.”

  Bree pulled in a couple of deep, bracing breaths. “Do you want to go to the other crime scene or not?”

  “We’re going.” This time, he looped their arms together. “Let’s take a walk, shall we? The scene isn’t too far away.”

  “No, it’s not. He’s keeping his kill zone tight.”

  “Kill zone.” He seemed to mull that over.

  “Three murders, all in the same tight, geographic area. The perp feels comfortable here. He knows the city well. When he took his third vic to the trolley station, he knew the place would be closed down for a while so he could…work.” She stumbled over that last bit. God, it felt cold to say things that way. “He didn’t count on the homeless man. Because of him, the perp’s MO had to change. He couldn’t finish strangling his vic, so he went for the quick drive of the knife.” Bree fell silent as she thought about that…an interrupted kill. A serial’s twisted desires. Since the guy hadn’t been able to kill his vic the way he’d intended, what kind of reaction would the perp have?

  They passed the Square. Performers were already set up outside of Jackson Square. A man polished his saxophone. A young kid covered in silver paint danced in his tap shoes.

  The shop fronts were decorated with pumpkins and skulls. Since Halloween was closing in, the whole town seemed to be celebrating. The grinning skulls stared at Bree as she passed them. An artist had just set up his paintings nearby, and they were all dark. Twisted. With deep shadows and ghostly figures filling the canvases.

  “Halloween in the Big Easy,” Kace murmured. “Always an interesting time.”

  She wouldn’t know. “Do things get crazy here?”

  “Crazier. The ghosts come out stronger then.”

  Now she laughed. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  He wasn’t laughing. “This city is built on more blood and death than you can imagine. I wouldn’t blame the ghosts if they decided to come back and raise some hell.”

  They were near the front of the Square. The carriages and their horses were all lined up and ready for tourists.

  “Haunted Tour!” One driver shouted, “I’ll take you to all of the city’s darkest and most dangerous spots…”

  “People love death and danger.” Kace didn’t slow his pace. “People love to be scared.”

  She didn’t.

  They hurried across the main street. Walked past more shops. More skeletons, spiders, witches. A man with vampire fangs and bloody lips tried to pull them into his store. Kace just waved the guy away and didn’t slow his stride.

  Then they were leaving the busy hub and heading closer to the river. In the distance, Bree could see a steamboat’s wheels turning. They crossed the trolley tracks, and yellow police tape flapped in the wind near the Canal Street Station.

  Other people were there. Snapping pictures. One teen was even sprawling on the tracks, feigning death.

  “I told you,” Kace’s breath blew lightly over her ear, “people like death in this town.”

  She shivered. “Death isn’t something you play with.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Her gaze slid over the scene. She ignored the people with their phones and their excited voices. She focused on what the scene would have been like when the victim had been there. She’d seen crime scene photos when she’d gone to the hospital and met with her team, so she knew what the layout of the scene had been like when the victim had been there.

  The killer had put her near the tracks. Not on the tracks, but near them. He hadn’t wanted the trolley to hit her. He’d kept her hands and feet bound. The coroner believed the victims had all been restrained until after death because there were no signs that the victims had been able to fight back.

  So, Amelia Sanderson had been near the tracks. Hands bound. Feet bound. The killer had wrapped a white, nylon rope around her neck. He’d been squeezing, pulling tighter and tighter.

  Then he’d heard a shout…

  She could see it in her mind.

  “His back was to the man who’d called out. The perp knew he didn’t have time to finish the job with his rope, so he reached for his knife.” Her head tilted. “He shoved the blade into her chest, aiming for her heart, but missing, going a little to the left because she was struggling to survive.”

  Kace was quiet.

  “He didn’t finish the way he wanted.” She bit her lower lip. “That scares me.” Her gaze rose to lock on Kace’s.

  “Why?”

  “Because most serial killers follow a pattern. A precise manner of killing. It gives them—relief, if you will. The need builds up in them, and it explodes, driving them to act.”

  “To take a victim.” His voice was low, for her alone.

  Bree nodded. “And they kill, usually in a very specific manner, and with the death of the prey, control comes back to the perp.” Her gaze slid to the tracks. “He didn’t get to kill his way.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means he was interrupted.” A soft sigh escaped her. “And it means he’s going to be killing again, very soon.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I want you to stay here, Bree,” Kace announced, his voice careful because he didn’t want to give away just how badly he wanted her at his home. Night was starting to fall again. She’d spent the day walking crime scenes with him, following leads, and telling him everything that he wanted to know about killers.

  Turned out, Bree knew one hell of a lot about them.

  “I have to take care of some work. I won’t be out long.” He shoved his hand into his pockets. The better to not reach out and touch her. Being close to her all day had been the biggest temptation of his life. The woman he wanted most was right there.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her in the alley. He knew that. One wild kiss had just made him want so much more.

  Everything.

  Would a woman like Bree ever give a man like him everything? Probably not. But a guy could wonder.

  “Stay here,” he urged her. “Plenty of security. Plenty of food. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She cocked her head to the right. “The minute you leave, I’ll search your house.”

  So fucking cute. As if he hadn’t realized that was exactly what she’d do, but he appreciated her honesty. “Go ahead. You won’t find anything.” Nothing that he didn’t want her to find, anyway.

  A spark lit her eyes.

  “When I come back,” he added, “we’ll have dinner together. Anything you want.”

  Bree gave a slow shake of her head. “I’m not your new roommate, Kace. I’m the FBI agent investigating you.”

  The FBI agent working with me. But he didn’t correct her. “During dinner, you can grill me. Ask me every burning question that you have. It will just be me and you—no lawyer in sight.”

  She looked interested, just as he’d hoped. “You’ll actually answer my questions?”

  “Most of them.” Would he confess to his darkest crimes? Hell, no.

  He’d buried those bodies too well.

  “But before I go…” Kace moved to stand right in front of her.

  “Kace…”

  “No kiss good-bye?”

  Her gaze locked on his mouth.

  “Tempted, aren’t you?” Kace teased.

  “Yes.”

  He hadn’t expected s
uch a direct response. He also hadn’t expected her hands to rise. To curl around his shoulders. For Bree to push onto her toes and bring her mouth toward his—

  He met her. His head bent, and his mouth took hers. There was nothing teasing or gentle about this kiss. Maybe because the need had been building all damn day. Maybe because the instant his lips touched hers, an inferno of need seemed to consume him. His tongue thrust into her mouth. He tasted. He took. When she moaned, the sound made his dick twitch. He was rock hard and ready, his cock shoving against his jeans, and he wanted in her.

  He lifted her up. Took two steps and pressed her back to the nearest wall. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he held her there. He feasted on her mouth. Her taste was driving him insane with hunger. Kace pulled back, but only so that he could nip at her lower lip.

  She moaned again. That soft little sound was pure temptation.

  “Kace…”

  Her head turned away. Rejecting him, again.

  Fuck that. Did the woman know how many others would beg to be in his bed?

  “You need to make a choice,” he told her. “You need to make the call.”

  Her legs slid from his hips. Her ragged breathing filled the air. Wait, maybe that was his breathing. Lust was a dangerous beast inside of him.

  He made sure she was steady, then he stepped back.

  “There’s the case,” he told her flatly. “Then there is us. You can fuck me and still do your job.”

  Her eyes were so wide and deep.

  “You can find the real killer, and you can give in to this burning lust that we feel. You and I both know this kind of hunger doesn’t come along all the time. We touch, and everything else fades away.”

  “The last time I fucked a stranger, I almost had to kiss my career good-bye.”

  He smiled at her. “I’m not a stranger.”

  “No, you’re the bad guy.”

  “Not to you.” She should understand this. “Never to you.”

  Her lips were red and swollen from his mouth. He wanted to kiss her again, but because he wanted that so badly, Kace took another step back. “Make sure you set the security system when I leave.” He’d shown her the settings earlier that day. Just handing over all of his passwords and his home to an FBI agent? Sure, some people might think he’d lost his mind.

  Remy would certainly think that.

  But Kace was just playing the game. Sometimes, you had to roll the dice.

  Kace grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

  “What business are you taking care of on a Sunday night?”

  He glanced back at her and winked. “Just a little matter of life and death.”

  “Kace—”

  “Missing me already?”

  Her cheeks flushed. He would never get tired of Bree’s sweet blush.

  “Better hurry, love, and get to work,” he urged her. “I won’t be gone long. Don’t you want to see how much of my place you can search in that time? No warrant required.”

  He opened the door and slipped into the growing darkness.

  ***

  When the door closed behind Kace, Bree became aware of the heavy silence in the house. She looked up, her gaze darting to the imposing staircase.

  Alone.

  She turned away from the door and ran upstairs. She’d left her phone on the bed, and now she made a beeline for it. She hadn’t checked in with the team all day long, and there were sure as hell some choice things she needed to say to Grayson.

  She snatched the phone from the bed and made her way to the room next door. Kace’s room. She called Grayson—

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Grayson snarled. “We had eyes on you all day. You were freaking making out with the guy in public! You were—”

  “I was staying close to the target.” Bree stilled just outside of Kace’s bedroom. “That’s my job, isn’t it?” Anger burned inside of her. “And that was your plan. I mean, it is the reason you trashed my room at the bed and breakfast, isn’t it?”

  She waited for a denial. Kace had to be wrong about Grayson. Lying to her, that was it, he was—

  “The guy found out about that, did he?”

  All of the breath left her lungs in a long whoosh. “You did that?”

  “Had to make the scene look real, Bree. Especially after he sent his man to investigate. Knew he was getting suspicious. Had to do something to tip the scales our way. And it worked, didn’t it? He moved you right into his home.”

  Her temples were throbbing. “You destroyed my things?”

  “I set a scene. I knew how to make it look like a crazed attacker had been there.”

  So much rage. She’d seen rage and hate in her room, and, yes, Grayson would know how to duplicate that set-up perfectly. It had been like so many scenes she’d studied when learning about violent behavior patterns. Now that she thought about it, the scene had almost been textbook perfect. “Sonofabitch,” she gritted out.

  “Don’t be mad, Bree. I needed you to have a real, visceral reaction or Kace wasn’t going to take you in. Didn’t you hear what I said before? He’d already sent his man to search the place. I only made my move after Dominic saw Kace’s right-hand slipping inside your room.”

  The throbbing in her temples got worse. “What?”

  “The big guy, Remy. He broke into your room at Ms. Queen’s. I had to react. Who the hell knows what Remy found in there? I was sure Kace had figured out you were FBI.”

  Remy had broken into her room, too? Had everyone in the whole world broken into her place? “He did figure it out.” Her left hand reached for the doorknob. “He caught me when I was searching the house last night.”

  A low whistle. “Dammit. Tell me you found something useful—”

  She didn’t open the bedroom door. “Kace says he’s innocent.”

  Grayson gave a rough laugh. “That guy has never been innocent a day in his life.”

  Said the man who’d just confessed to destroying all of her property.

  “We have eyes on him,” Grayson snapped abruptly. “He’s leaving the property.” A pause. “You’re there alone?”

  “He told me to search the whole place if I wanted.”

  “Find me something I can use, Bree.”

  “If he told me to search, that means Kace knows I won’t find anything. There’s nothing here.” She’d already realized that—why hadn’t Grayson? “He says someone else is behind the murders, that he’s being framed, and I’m starting to believe him.”

  “Bree,” her name was a frustrated sigh. “The man is a liar. He’s cold-blooded. He’s the crime boss of this city.”

  “He wants me to help him find the real killer.”

  “Fuck, that’s such bullshit!”

  She wasn’t so sure. “I agreed to do it. We’re working as partners. I get access to his life, and he gets to pick my brain.”

  Silence. Then… “No.”

  “It’s not your call—”

  “I’m the senior agent, and you are blinded by him. The guy is a charmer, a scammer, but I thought you could see through that. He wants to know what the FBI has on the Strangler. He wants to make sure we’re not about to take him down. That’s why he wants to pick your brain. He’s using you, Bree.”

  So are you.

  “Don’t trust him,” Grayson ordered curtly. “Not even for a second.”

  ***

  “Are you comfortable?” He smiled at her. “Those ropes were terribly rough, weren’t they? The silks are much better.” He let a long trail of silk drift from his hand.

  She didn’t speak, but a tear leaked down her cheek.

  He bent to check the knots he’d tied on her wrists. His gloved fingers slid over her bruised skin. Perfect. The silk would hold.

  Then he bent to inspect the silk he’d twined around her neck. Not tight enough to kill. Certainly not…yet. He had plans. Wonderful, brilliant plans.

  He pulled back and drew out his knife.

  She whimpered.

&
nbsp; “Don’t worry. I really don’t like using this thing.” He stared at the blade. Was that a drop of blood still on there? From Amelia? “I don’t enjoy blood. Far too messy for me.” When he thought of Amelia, his whole body tightened. That scene had been a cluster. And now he had to worry about the witness. No matter, he’d find the guy soon enough.

  No one would notice when a homeless man or woman vanished. No one had noticed the others he’d practiced on before he’d taken Lindsey. Practice made perfect.

  He caught a chunk of her blond hair in his hand. He brought the knife in and began to saw off her hair.

  “Stop it! Stop!”

  Now she screamed? Women could be so vain.

  He dropped the knife, tightened the silk around her neck, and cut off her cries. “Not another sound.”

  More tears. She cried so much. He liked the tears. They made him strong.

  She’d brought this all on herself. Did she realize that? “You should have stayed out of Fantasy.” He picked up his knife. Went back to sawing on her hair. Blond chunks fell to the floor. “Once you came inside, you were mine.”

  He kept working until she was absolutely picture perfect. Then he tucked his knife back in the sheath that was strapped to his ankle.

  She stared at him with her wide, desperate eyes. Eyes that were the wrong color, but, well, he didn’t want to cut her eyes out. Too messy.

  Then he reached for the silk that he’d twined around her neck—he’d looped the silk around the slender column of her throat two times.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  It was the last thing she said. He tightened the silk, yanked the edges hard so that his hands became fists. Her eyes were wide open, staring at him. He loved to watch the eyes change as his victims fought. Look, look…not so blue any longer. Now they’re red.

  Her eyes changed without him having to use his knife.

  Her body twisted and bucked, but there was no escape. He had her exactly where he wanted her.

  And soon, soon she wasn’t moving at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Kace unlocked the front door, the house appeared to be in darkness. Unease slithered through him. “Bree?” He moved to quickly reset the alarm.

  “I’m in your study.” Her voice was low.