by Cynthia Eden
Hyde’s foot slammed the accelerator into the floorboard. Sheriff Davis sat beside him, riding shotgun in his own patrol car.
The pine trees swirled past him, and time seemed to disappear.
Sixteen years ago, he’d been driving down another dirt road. One surrounded by swaying pines.
A cabin had waited for him, with death inside.
Monica had survived once. She’d do it again.
He’d brought her out of the ashes, watched her nearly crumble over her mother’s grave. He’d been by her side through the years, and he’d stood back as she grew stronger.
A miracle.
He’d gotten one before. He’d get one again.
His fingers curled around the radio. He brought the receiver up to his lips. “Go in with sirens silent. We don’t want to give this bastard any notice, you got me?”
Because if he heard them coming, Luke and Monica would be dead before they ever opened the doors of the cruisers. Out in these damn boondocks, it would be hard to keep quiet.
But the killer would be focused on other things.
“Copy that.”
He’d taught her how to fight. She’d survive.
“Can’t this piece of shit go faster?” he bit out. Red dirt flew in the air around the cruiser.
Hold on. Stay alive.
“I’m sorry.” Luke’s lips moved silently.
Monica shook her head. He didn’t have anything to be sorry for. This was on her.
Deputy Vance Monroe was good at killing. Probably because he’d been at his craft for so long.
Since he was eleven years old.
“I love you,” Luke told her. His eyes locked on her, and they showed no fear. Sweat beaded his face, and blood soaked his arms and chest, but fear didn’t lurk in his green gaze. Not so much as a shadow.
He knew the game, too.
Way to tell Vance to piss off.
“Where do I want to start first?” Vance walked around the table. A surgical tray was on the far right side, out of Monica’s reach. Vance waved his gun toward her. “Why don’t you pick a spot for me? Something delicate, that will hurt like a bitch.”
Monica glared back at him. Enough. Her turn. “How old were you?”
He blinked.
“How old were you, Kyle, when you made your first kill?”
His lips stretched. Not a smile. Not even close. “Figured that one out, did you?” He shook his head. “Guess we both like to play with names, don’t we, Mary Jane?”
Luke’s arms tensed, and she knew he was trying to escape the straps. But they were too tight. He wouldn’t be able to get free on his own.
“I’m guessing you were the officer who supposedly told the sheriff’s department in Gatlin that Kyle West died in that car accident?”
“Finally figured that one, did you?” A sharp bark of laughter.
“Who really died in that car accident?” She pulled a bit on her handcuff, testing the table. No give. “Vance Monroe?”
One shoulder lifted in a slow shrug. “It was really too fucking easy. I saw him in a bar. He looked like me. My size, my hair, my age.” A shrug. “So I thought—why the hell not? And I got myself a fresh start.”
And another man had died. But so what, right? In Kyle’s mind, it hadn’t mattered a bit. “You were the officer who went to see May, weren’t you? You were the one sent to tell her about the car accident.”
“She was off her meds. Always going off. I had darker hair, a broken nose, and a shiny uniform. When I lowered my voice, she didn’t even recognize me.”
“But the people in the sheriff’s office would have recognized you, that’s why you didn’t tell Martin.” The guy had been good. He’d done the visit to the family that would have been required, but covered his tracks well enough that he’d slipped through the cracks in the system.
A bark of laughter. “Maybe he would have. Maybe not. That prick can’t find his own ass most days.” His voice hardened. “You know that jerkoff thinks he can change the world. He thinks he can take a killer, get him to bare his soul, and then—wham—turn him into a model fucking citizen.”
Was he talking about Martin and his visits with Romeo? “But that won’t happen,” she said, her voice soft when his was hard.
“Hell, no. Some instincts are in the blood. Nothin’ will change ’em. Nothin’.”
“You’ve got those instincts, right? Was it those instincts that made you kill your ex-girlfriend? Those instincts made you murder Saundra?”
His eyes slit. “That bitch deserved to die! She was gonna leave me. Me!”
“She wasn’t your first, though, was she?” From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Lee stir. What had Kyle given him? She’d caught sight of loose ropes binding his hands. Ropes were so much easier to work free than handcuffs. And it looked like Kyle had kept those binds nice and light, probably because he didn’t want to leave rope burns on the soon-to-be dead guy’s hands.
Rope burns didn’t go so well with a suicide.
Maybe he’d learned the rope lesson with Jeremy Jones.
Vance—Kyle—shook his head. “My first? Not even close.” He put the gun down and picked up his bloody knife. “I think it’s time we got down to business.” He turned to shoot a quick glance at Lee—
“You killed your mother!” The belt buckle bit into her hand. “She was your first kill in that fire on Valentine’s Day.”
He whirled back toward her. The gloating pride vanished from his face. All emotion wiped away in an instant. “She deserved it.”
Right, because everyone he’d killed had deserved to die.
His fingers tightened around the knife. “That bitch—she tried to kill me.”
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Kyle went after women. They were his primary victims, and he liked to terrify them so that he could have control.
He wanted the women to be weak, powerless. Because once, a woman had made him feel the same way. His was not instinct, more like a sick compulsion.
“She beat you.” Absolute certainty had Monica’s voice thickening. “It started when you were young. She’d hurt you—”
“That crazy whore kept saying the devil was in me!” Spittle flew from his mouth, and he didn’t see Lee sliding free of the ropes. “She’d take her belt to me every night and tell me that she was beating him out of me!”
May had been treated for schizophrenia. Maybe her sister had suffered from similar problems. But no one had ever been there to shield her baby boy.
“She said I was evil, and that night, that night, she was gonna kill me!” He brought the knife over Luke’s chest. Hesitated. With that hesitation, Monica knew he was seeing the past. Not the victims right in front of him, but the most important one he’d killed so long ago. “I got her instead. I hit her on the head, knocked her down, and then I poured gasoline all over her.”
Accelerant had been found at the scene.
“She woke up right before I lit the first match.” His eyes widened, and she knew he saw that moment with perfect clarity. “She was so scared. She begged me to help her. To get her out, but I just lit that match and watched her burn.”
And he’d gotten his taste of power. Learned how heady fear could be.
He’d become a monster.
“Everybody was working on Romeo. The deputies never looked twice at me.”
Because the sheriff had been there, covering hisnephew’s tracks? Family. You protected them. Maybe Sheriff Peterson had known what Margaret was doing to her son. Maybe he’d just been good at turning a blind eye to the things he didn’t want to see.
“You got away with murder.” It would have satisfied him for a while. But not forever. “Did you kill May, too? Did you torch her house and trap her inside?”
He laughed at that. A low, dark laugh. “Didn’t have to.”
What? She’d been certain he was behind that fire.
“All I had to do was call her. When she heard my voice, she thought I was a ghost.” Another laugh. �
��I told her to burn the house. I knew you wanted all those papers, that shit, she kept for years. I told her to burn it and to stay inside, to make sure the flames were bright enough.”
Oh, Christ. “And she did.”
His mouth hitched up. “Like I said, May was never good at taking her meds. And when she was off ’em, she’d do just about anything. Believe anything.”
She swallowed. “How many bodies are out in that swamp?” Close to the cabins. Close to the tree that had become Saundra’s grave. There could have been more. So many more.
His head cocked, and his lips stretched in a taunting grin. “You think you know me, huh? Well, he told me all about you.”
“He?” But she knew.
“Romeo.”
That knife was too close to Luke’s chest. Luke’s eyes hadn’t left Kyle’s face. The promise of deadly retribution glowed in those emerald depths. If she could just get him free…
“What the fuck do you know about Romeo?” Luke yelled.
But Monica stared into Kyle’s eyes and finally understood the game. “Everything.” The night one killer had been captured, another had been born two counties over. And coincidences, they just didn’t happen.
“You had to go see him, didn’t you? You read about him in the papers. His story was everywhere while your kill didn’t even get a notice.” It had been about pride. Some killers were desperate for their time in the light. Even boys…
“Romeo was the king.” Kyle’s gaze tracked down her body. “He was in every paper, on every TV show. He’s a legend.”
“Bryan Tate.” It was hard to get the words out. “Guessing that was you visiting, not Romeo’s lawyer.” So many visits. Plenty of time to talk about death.
He leaned forward just a bit. “Tate’s one of them bodies you’ll find near Saundra’s tree.”
Bastard.
“I needed a way in. He was my ticket.”
So what if another life was lost? And Romeo, oh, he would have loved the attention. He’d wanted someone who could appreciate his work. That’s one of the reasons he kept me alive. He wanted someone to see what he was doing. Someone to think he was God. “You told him that you had the ‘instinct,’ right?”
A quick nod. “He didn’t believe me at first. He gave me a test. Wanted to see if I was for real.”
“What kind of test?”
“A guard. He wanted him dead.” His gaze bored into hers. “That kill was easy enough to verify for Romeo.”
And Romeo would have known he had the perfect lapdog. “What did Romeo teach you?” Because he’d always wanted to teach, wanted someone to cross the line and be just like him.
His tongue swiped over his lower lip. “He said—he said I had to aim big. That I had to prove how smart I was, how good.”
Fuck.
“He told me about you and that prick Hyde.” A bark of laughter that held only darkness. “If it hadn’t been for Romeo, I never would have found you. But he told me—he told me you’d be the perfect prey. If I could take you down, if I could break you, then the world would know how good I was. I would be the legend.”
Romeo. Playing games so that he could finish the kill he’d lost years before. “Romeo was jerking you around.”
“No, no. He said you’d tell me that.” A pause. “He said you’d tell me anything to stay alive.”
She glared back at him.
“Everything he told me was true. I got you in his city, I got you down here, and now… I’ll break you.”
“Romeo’s going to rot in prison.” She bared her teeth at him. He was totally focused on her now. His mistake. “Just like you will.”
And she never looked away from Kyle as Lee slammed into him. The knife flew from Kyle’s hand and clattered to the floor. The two men fell in a tangle of limbs and fists.
Monica snatched up the belt buckle. The knife was too far away. She’d never be able to reach it. “Hold on,” she whispered to Luke, and started sawing with the buckle. If she could just get him free…
“No, run,” Luke ordered. “Get out! Go baby, go.”
She wouldn’t leave him.
Kyle slammed Lee’s head into the floor. Once. Twice. The sickening thuds had her stomach heaving.
The strap near Luke’s shoulder gave way. She leaned over him, sawing, sawing…
“What are you doin’?!” Kyle was on his feet. He swung his fist at her, driving his knuckles into her face, and Monica stumbled. “You can’t save him!”
Too late. She already had.
Luke shot up, blood dripping, and plowed his fist into Kyle’s stomach. The killer doubled over, groaning.
Monica’s jaw burned. It popped when she opened her mouth. Block it. “Luke… keys.” They were right there, hanging from Kyle’s belt.
Luke ripped the keys off and slammed his elbow into Kyle’s nose. Down, down he went. Luke tossed her the keys. She caught them and had her cuff open in three seconds.
That was long enough for Kyle to pick his ass up off the floor but not long enough for Luke to get completely free.
Shit—weapon.
Monica scrambled around the table. The knife was right there, waiting for her. Her fingers closed around the hilt just as Kyle let out a roar of fury.
The gun. No.
She spun around. He had the gun aimed at Luke, aimed straight at his heart. His finger squeezed—
“Watchman!”
He hesitated, started to swing toward her.
She came up on him fast and drove the knife into his chest. As deep as she could.
His eyes widened. His lips trembled as if he would speak.
She twisted the knife, then ripped the gun from his hands.
His knees gave way, and he hit the floor hard.
Monica’s breath heaved as she crouched over him. Blood trickled from his lips. His pupils were dilating, blackness spreading.
A moan bubbled in his throat.
She knew her weapon had found its mark. In that split second, there’d been no time for taking chances. She’d had to stop him, and she’d gone for the kill.
Monica yanked the knife free. Blood splattered in the air. Leaning down, she put her lips close to his ear. “Are you scared?” she whispered.
Monica felt his nod against her cheek even as she smelled death approaching.
“Good.” She drew back and finally gave him a smile of her own. “Hell’s waiting, asshole.”
His eyes widened. A gurgle rose in his throat. He lifted his hand, bloody fingers reaching—
And went to Hell.
The hand fell back against the floor, and his breath choked away.
The door flew open behind them. “FBI! Don’t move!” Kenton yelled.
The cavalry had arrived. Too late. She’d expected them sooner. Bastard must have broken my cell phone, messed up the signal.
Figured. Kyle had known all the tricks.
He’d been prepared for her.
But then, she’d prepared for him, too.
She stared into those sightless eyes. It looked like she’d been wrong. Kyle wouldn’t spend the rest of his days rotting in a jail with Romeo.
Romeo would be all by himself. Just what the bastard feared. She knew his fear. Knew what scared him most. She’d learned the truth in a blood-stained room years before when the cops took her away from him and he’d been the one to scream—for her.
Romeo wanted someone to share his darkness. Someone who understood death and horror and fear. Someone just like him.
But he’d lost her, and he’d lost Kyle. Now he was alone.
Exactly what Romeo deserved.
Hyde shoved through the door right behind Kenton. His gun was up, steady and tight in his grasp.
The scent of blood hit him first. The stench of death.
Monica rose from the chaos. Her shirt was stained with blood, and there was a dark, purple bruise on her forehead that skimmed down the side of her face. She lifted her arms slowly, and he saw that she had a knife clenched in her right
fist.
“Suspect is down,” she said simply, and her voice didn’t shake. Didn’t so much as tremble. Rock steady and cold.
Not the girl she’d been. The woman she was.
This time, she’d taken down the killer.
And sometimes, so many times, he wished he’d let her take down the other bastard.
But then what would she have become?
And what is she now?
She dropped the knife. “Vance Monroe… he’s Kyle West. He killed his mother sixteen years ago, murdered Saundra Swain, Sally Jenkins, Patty Moffet…” she swallowed, “Laura Billings, and he-he attacked Special Agent Samantha Kennedy.”
What is she?
A fucking fine agent.
“Monica.” Dante’s voice. His was boiling with emotion—fury, fear, need—the opposite of Monica.
He’d always been her opposite. Hyde had known that from the first moment he saw them together at Quantico. The two of them together were one powerful team.
When Monica heard Dante’s voice, she blinked, and the ice melted away. “Luke.” She spun and lunged for him.
Dante sat up on some kind of makeshift operating table. Long, thick straps held down his legs and his hips and, shit, it looked like the killer had been carving him up.
“Got an injured agent!” Hyde yelled. “Get the EMTs in here now!”
Two deputies lay on the floor. Vance Monroe wasn’t breathing, and he had a gaping stab wound in his chest. Lee Pope’s chest was rising and falling, but he looked like shit.
“Deputy down!” Kenton called.
Down, but still alive.
And his agents had survived. Hyde tried to take a deep breath but the stench of blood choked him.
Way too much blood. The EMTs needed to move their asses. Monica threw her arms around Dante. Held him tight.
Crushed her mouth to his.
Not ice.
Not anymore.
Luke pulled Monica against him. He buried his hands in her hair, and he tilted her head back.
The better to take her mouth.
Fear pumped through his blood. Too close. Nearly lost her.
His lips closed over hers. His blood smeared her, but he didn’t care. That bastard had tried to take her away. When Kyle or Vance or who-the-hell-ever he was had gone across that table after her…
My heart stopped.