Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher Read online

  The sound came again. A gasp, a sob. Hard to tell. He just knew one thing for certain. It was coming from her.

  “Lauren?” He raised his voice. Pounded on the door. “Lauren, open the door.”

  There were no creaks of the floor. No sign that she was coming toward him.

  Another gasp. So weak and whispery.

  He grabbed his gun. Tension had tightened his body. He lifted his foot, and he kicked in the damn door.

  The lock shattered, chunks of wood near the door frame went flying, and the door swung back beneath the blow.

  The room was dark inside, but he could make out Lauren’s form in the bed. She lurched up, breath heaving, and screamed.

  He was on the bed two seconds later. “It’s okay!”

  She’d yanked the sheet up to her chest. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, revealing and concealing her, but he was close enough to see her eyes, and when he lifted his hand, he felt the wet tear tracks on her cheeks.

  “You’re safe, baby.”

  Her head turned. Her gaze fell on the gun in his hands. “Hard to believe…” Her voice was husky, and he shouldn’t have found it sexy right then, shouldn’t have found her sexy when she was scared, but he did. He always found her sexy. “Hard to believe I’m safe…” she said again, her voice getting a little stronger. “With the gun so close to me.”

  Right. Carefully, he put the gun down on the nightstand. He turned on the small lamp so he could see her better. He wiped her tears away.

  She flinched. “I’m okay.”

  “You didn’t sound okay.” He knew fear when he heard it.

  Her grip tightened on the sheet. “It was just a nightmare.”

  He stared at her.

  “Karen was my friend. I can’t get what he did to her out of my head.” Her head tilted down, and the curtain of her hair fell around her, concealing her expression from him. “I know she had to be so afraid. In so much pain, and…no one was there to help her.”

  He pulled her against his chest. Wrapped his arms around her. Held her. “She’s not in pain anymore.”

  Lauren shuddered. “That doesn’t make me feel better. I close my eyes, and I hear her. Begging me to help. But I can’t. I can’t do a damn thing.”

  He tightened his hold on her. “Yes, you can. We can catch the bastard.”

  “Before he comes to butcher me, too?”

  The question was there, heavy between them, and her words burned right through him. “That’s not happening.”

  Her laugh was bitter. Broken. “Tony, we know how these cases go. Criminals want payback against the DA. Against the judge—against the cops who arrested them. We get threats all the time.” Her head lifted. She stared up at him. “Walker’s different. He likes killing. He likes hurting. And since his victims tend to be women, he’s locking on me.”

  “I won’t let him get to you.”

  “You can’t be my shield twenty-four hours a day.”

  No, but he’d like to be.

  He brushed her hair back. The bed carried her sweet scent, tempting him. No, she tempted. Always her.

  “You ran to the rescue,” she murmured. “But that door’s gonna cost you.”

  Screw the door.

  His fingers slid down her arm. Her shoulders were bare. What was she wearing beneath the sheet?

  “When we were alone”—the words came from him, growling out as tension and need hardened his body even more—“you always burned so hot.”

  Her skin was like silk beneath his fingers. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

  “Tony…”

  That was it. The breathy catch in her voice. The way she said his name with need shaking in the one word. “I missed that.”

  His fingers rose. Slid through the softness of her hair so that he could turn her head toward him. “I missed you.” A guttural truth.

  They were alone. No prying eyes.

  She always burned so hot when they were alone…

  “You said that before,” she whispered. “Am I really supposed to believe you? You stayed away—for five years.”

  No, he hadn’t stayed away. He’d come back. Had to see her.

  She’d been with someone else.

  Anger coiled within him, but he kept a death grip on his control. “Believe this.” Then his mouth was on hers. Finally. Fucking finally.

  She tasted just like he remembered. Soft, rich, sweet wine with an edge of spice that made him feel drunk almost from the first taste.

  Drunk, and wild for her.

  Five years.

  His mouth hardened on hers. His tongue thrust past her lips, desperate for more of her taste. She was kissing him back. Instead of grabbing the sheet, she was grabbing him. Her nails raked over his shoulders as she pulled him closer.

  Closer was exactly where he wanted to be.

  His cock was hard, full for her. Just looking at her made him hard. Touching her, kissing her—that made him feel like a volcano. He burned for her, needed her more than anyone or anything else.

  The sheet was in his way. He yanked it aside so that he could caress more of her, and he immediately discovered she wasn’t wearing anything beneath the sheet.

  Christ, not a damn thing.

  The longing hit him like a blow. Anthony pushed her back on the bed. The sheets were tangled around them, and he didn’t care. He wanted her tangled around him. He wanted to thrust into her so deeply that the rest of the world melted away.

  Only her.

  Sex had never been the problem between them. It had been part of his addiction.

  His hands slid to her breasts. Perfect breasts. Full, round, with pink tips that he loved to have in his mouth. When he kissed them, when he sucked them, she went wild for him.

  In so many ways, no one knew her better than he did.

  So many.

  He tore his mouth from hers. Began to kiss her neck. Right there, over her pulse. Her heart was racing so fast, pounding and pounding in a frantic beat that matched his own desperate heart. He had her back where he wanted her. Beneath him, in bed. With him.

  This was where she belonged.

  His fingers slid over her breasts. Stroking the nipples.

  This was—

  “I—I can’t…”

  Her voice. The husky timbre rolled right through him, but her words…his back teeth clenched as he glanced up at her face.

  Her breath came in fast pants. Her nipples were tight with arousal, but the woman was saying—

  “Let me go, Anthony.”

  No. Never.

  That wasn’t what the good guy was supposed to do. His eyes closed and he gulped in deep breaths. Then he forced himself to let her go. To bend and pull the sheet up, over her, concealing the flesh he wanted so very badly.

  The sound of his heaving breaths seemed far too loud in the small hotel room. Lauren was too close, but she’d never seemed farther away.

  “I won’t apologize.” Not for kissing her. Touching her. He caught her blue gaze. So damn blue. “You wanted me, too. Want me.” It wasn’t past tense, not for either of them.

  “Just because you want something…” She shook her head, sending her hair feathering over her shoulders. “It doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”

  No, they’d never been good for each other. Too hot. Too intense.

  “I’m not ready to get hurt again by you.”

  Her words sliced right through him. Was that what she thought? That he’d hurt her?

  “Maybe I should find somewhere else to stay.” She tucked the sheet under her arms, making sure to keep her breasts covered. “Until the team is done with my house, I can stay—”

  “You’re not staying with the cop.” The words were snarled. His nostrils flared as he drank in her scent.

  She stared at him, then whispered, “No.”

  He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t. “You had sex with him.” It wasn’t asking. It was confirming. The jealousy was back, knifing him in the gut.

&n
bsp; She flinched. She was there, naked, everything he’d ever wanted just inches away. But he couldn’t touch her.

  Lauren had said no.

  “What I do…who I do it with, that’s my business.”

  Lauren’s mistake had been that she never realized exactly how dangerous he truly was—or how much he wanted her. “How many fucking times?” He surged to his feet. He had to put distance between them.

  “I’m not asking who you’ve been with!” Lauren threw at him. “I don’t want to know.”

  His hands tightened into fists. “That’s the difference between us.” He looked back at her. In bed. So sexy that his cock ached. “I want to know every damn thing about you.”

  “You don’t have a right to know—”

  “Two more minutes, and I would have been in you.”

  Her breath sucked in on a sharp gasp. “Go back to your room.”

  He was screwing this up. He always screwed things up with her. Never said the right thing. Never did the right thing.

  He headed for the door.

  Stopped.

  Confessed. “The women I’ve been with…they were you.”

  “That doesn’t make any—”

  “At first, it was because I was pissed at losing you. I didn’t even realize why I was with the blonde.” He glanced over his shoulder. “When I called her by your name, then I knew.”

  There was shock on her face.

  “In the dark, they’re always you.” He knew it was screwed up. He was screwed up. His jaw locked. He’d pushed enough, and if he didn’t get out of there right then, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away from her. He grabbed for the door and left.

  Pierce Hamilton stared out at the darkness just beyond his bedroom window. His wife was behind him, sleeping deeply, the sound of her even breathing filling the room.

  There was no sleep for him.

  A cop was downstairs. The patrol car was parked right in front of his house. Protection.

  Only there were some things you couldn’t be protected from in this world.

  He’d seen so many murderers step into his courtroom over the years. Seen rapists, child molesters, abusers. He’d done his job. He’d put them behind bars. Some of the cases—they stayed with him. They kept a tight hold on him no matter what he did.

  When he’d been with Karen, he’d been able to forget some of the darkness. He’d been able to live, to breathe.

  Karen.

  Beautiful Karen, with her wide smile and gorgeous, golden skin.

  Gone.

  He glanced back at the bed. His wife was still sleeping. Did he love her? Had he ever?

  Her family’s money had made things easier. His law school. His time in the DA’s office. Money and connections could make anything easier.

  But they couldn’t stop the nightmares.

  So many killers. So many cases. For fifteen years, he’d been on the bench.

  He glanced away from his wife. Stared into the darkness.

  He hadn’t been able to get near Karen’s body, not once it had been transferred to the ME’s office. He would see her, though. Once more. He knew just the strings to pull. Just the connections to work.

  The attack on Karen had been personal. A dig at Lauren? No, at me.

  Because Karen was the one thing that had mattered to him in this world. The only thing.

  That SOB Walker had known that. He’d told Pierce, that last day in court…I’ll take away everything you love.

  Another threat. He got plenty of those. As he’d banged his gavel and sentenced Walker to an eternity behind bars, he hadn’t cared much about threats.

  After all, what could the guy do while he was locked up? But he wasn’t locked up anymore.

  And Karen was gone.

  “Hamilton?” His wife’s voice. She never called him Pierce. Just Hamilton. “Come back to bed.”

  He stared into the darkness.

  Wondered how much longer it would be before it was his turn to die.

  He forced himself to turn and face her. So very different from Karen. Julia was poised and perfect, even when she should have been rumpled from sleep.

  Always so perfect.

  Ice-cold.

  But the killer hadn’t come for her.

  My Karen.

  “The woman who was killed…”

  Julia reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. “She was the one you were screwing.” Her words were flat. The light fell on the right side of her face. “This time.”

  He locked his shoulders. “I was leaving you, Julia.”

  She laughed. “No, you weren’t.” Her eyes met his. “Come back to bed, Hamilton.”

  He didn’t want to go back.

  Karen was gone.

  Julia shook her head. “At least Walker saved us the trouble of having to deal with her.”

  The rage burned in him then, so hot and dark that he felt like it would consume him.

  Walker should have killed you, Julia. It should have been you.

  “Now we can get back to the way things were.” She turned the light back off with a flick of her fingers. Cold. That was Julia. She didn’t love him. Never had.

  He didn’t love her.

  Never had.

  It should have been you.

  He headed slowly toward the bed.

  Stacy Crawford wasn’t moaning. Wasn’t crying. Wasn’t doing anything at all.

  Except bleeding.

  The life had drained from her eyes. That moment—that one instant—was always so amazing to watch. Like a switch was being turned off, and all that she’d been faded away.

  Because of him. Because he had that power.

  He bent over her and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. He would leave her just where she was. The swamp had a way of taking care of prey for him.

  His fingers slid over the earring that he’d taken from her. He tucked it into his pocket, keeping it close to his heart. Stacy had told him so many times she wanted to be special to him.

  She was special now.

  In death, they were all special. He’d learned that.

  He turned away from her. Bent to pick up his knife.

  There were more plans in place. Others who would soon find their way beneath his knife.

  The Butcher had work to do.

  The phone in his pocket began to vibrate. He smiled. Only one person had his number.

  He lifted the phone to his ear. “Figured you’d call…just when I was having fun…”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, Lauren, Anthony, and the rest of the team returned to the edge of the swamp, back to the desolate cabin that had starred in Lauren’s nightmare last night. Only in her dreams, when she’d opened the worn door, she’d seen Karen inside.

  Karen, covered in blood, even as she asked…Why didn’t you save me, Lauren? Why?

  The sunlight was too bright and hot as it burst through the faint trickle of clouds. Insects were buzzing, and at least two cop cars waited near Walker’s old cabin.

  She stood by the SUV, far too aware of Anthony’s body beside hers. They hadn’t said much on the drive over. She hadn’t known what to say. She’d glanced in his eyes—once—and seen a dark need staring back at her.

  Sex had never been a problem for her and Anthony. Everything else? Yes.

  “Looks like our party just got bigger,” Anthony murmured as another SUV pulled up behind them. This vehicle was silver. A man exited it first, a man with light-blond hair and broad shoulders. He wore a business suit, looking incredibly out of place in the swamp.

  A woman exited next. She had black hair that slid lightly over her shoulders. She was slender, around five foot five, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. When she walked toward them, Lauren saw the holster under her arm.

  “Marshal,” the man called out as a faint grin lifted his lips. “I was told we’d find you here.”

  Lauren’s gaze swept over the two once more. She didn’t need to see their IDs to realize…“You’re FB
I.”

  The blond male gave a quick nod. “I’m Agent Kyle McKenzie, and this is Dr. Cadence Hollow.”

  Cadence’s golden gaze assessed Anthony and Lauren. “We’ve been sent down to assist with the investigation.” She offered her hand to Lauren. “You’re DA Lauren Chandler.”

  She took the offered hand. “And you’re the profiler who took down the serial rapist in Iowa last spring.”

  Cadence’s brows rose. “You know my work.”

  Lauren gave a little nod as she dropped the woman’s hand. FBI Special Agent Cadence Hollow hadn’t just taken down the rapist—she’d taken down plenty of other serials over the years. The woman’s name had been splashed in the paper plenty of times. Intent and eerily accurate, Cadence’s insights into the minds of killers had earned her favored status in the press.

  “It’s good to see you again, Tony,” Cadence said as she glanced over at Anthony. “It’s been awhile.”

  Lauren didn’t let her expression alter. Of course Anthony would know her. They both tracked killers, and she knew Anthony was often pretty tight with the FBI. But…the familiarity in the other woman’s tone, the intimate Tony—just how close were they?

  I told him I didn’t want to know who he’d been with. She didn’t want to know, because she didn’t want the jealousy to knot in her gut.

  “Sorry about everything that went down on the Valentine case,” Kyle murmured. “Wayne told us just how close you came on that one.”

  Lauren glanced at Anthony from the corner of her eye. She knew they were talking about the case of the Valentine Killer. The notorious serial killer had finally been apprehended—and killed—months before in New Orleans.

  According to the news reports she’d seen, Valentine had tried to kill Anthony, but the stories hadn’t provided a whole lot of specific information.

  “Less than a minute, huh?” Kyle shook his head and gave a low whistle. “That’s cutting things real close, even for you, Marshal.”

  Less than a minute?

  Lauren’s eyes narrowed.

  Anthony gave a rough shrug. “Not like I had a lot of choice. The bomb was ticking, and I figured I was about to get a close-up look at hell.”