Don't Trust A Killer

by Cynthia Eden

  On the phone, Kace had said Grayson was the danger. But Franco had been the one to shove a gun into her side.

  “Bree?” Grayson stepped closer. The light swept down her body, finally moving away from her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Franco.” She licked her lips. “He has a gun. He’s after me.”

  “Kace’s goon? Shit.” His hand reached for her. “Come on. We need to get moving.”

  “Give me your gun,” Bree ordered, her voice a low whisper. She didn’t take his offered hand.

  “I don’t have a gun. Karin made me turn in my official weapon, then your asshole boyfriend took my backup.” Frustration rolled in his quiet voice. “Come on, Bree. We need to move. If Franco is here—”

  Footsteps rushed toward them. Bree stiffened.

  “It’s okay,” Grayson said quickly as his light swung to land on the other woman who’d just joined them. “It’s only Abby. I asked her to meet me here. It’s where we always meet.”

  In a desolate cemetery? Yeah, great meeting place.

  “I want her to tell you the truth about Kace. But we can’t do it now. If he’s sent Franco to end us, then we all have to get out of here.”

  Bree rose to her feet. Voice still a whisper, she told him, “Turn off the flashlight. You’ll give away our location.” Three of them. One Franco—but he was armed. The bullets would mow them right down, so it didn’t matter that they had the numbers advantage. “And Kace didn’t send him. Kace doesn’t know a thing about him.”

  “Bullshit,” Grayson rasped as he shut off the light, plunging them into darkness. “He’s been pulling strings all along. I told you, Bree, you can’t trust—”

  “They’re here!” Abby suddenly yelled. “Franco, right here! Shoot!’

  “What the fuck—” Grayson began, but those were the only words he got out. In the next instant, a gun was blasting. A powerful thunder that shook the night even as Grayson stumbled to the ground.

  Bree lunged for him.

  “Stop.” Abby’s voice was flat. “Move another inch, and I’ll have Franco put a bullet in your head.”

  Bree froze.

  “Drop the brick. You aren’t going to hit me with it.”

  Footsteps pounded toward them. And then Franco was there, holding a flashlight right over his gun. His breath heaved in and out. The light hit Bree. “Bitch,” he snarled. “I don’t like chasing your ass.”

  Grayson let out a low moan.

  Bree’s frantic gaze swept from Franco to Abby. They were behind the light, so she couldn’t see them clearly. But she could feel their hate. Their fury. Franco is the one with the gun. I don’t think Abby is armed.

  “I told you to drop the brick,” Abby snapped.

  If Franco wanted to shoot her, he would have done it by now. He sure hadn’t hesitated to shoot Grayson. And he hadn’t shot her in the car, either. Whatever was happening, there was a plan in place. So Bree didn’t drop her brick. She also didn’t waste time answering Abby. Instead, she threw the brick at Franco, aiming for the hand that held the gun.

  Bree didn’t bother to see if she’d hit her target. Instead, she was already rushing for the nearest mausoleum. She sprinted behind it just as another bullet thundered out. The bullet hit the edge of the mausoleum, sending stone flying. A chunk of stone hit Bree in the arm, and she hissed out a breath as she kept running.

  No way was she stopping. She had to get out of there. Or get a better damn weapon than a brick.

  “Bree!” Abby screamed after her. “Bree!”

  ***

  Kace threw open the doors to the squat, brick building that waited behind the police station. He’d never been to the coroner’s lab before, but according to his men, it was the last place where Bree had been. Jerome and Douglas had told him that Bree rushed out of that building—right before she left with Franco.

  Franco had sent the other men a text, ordering them to stand down and stay put. He’d said that he’d be taking care of Bree.

  Traitorous sonofabitch. You hurt her, and you’re dead.

  Kace rushed into the hallway, with Remy right on his heels. He figured Bree must have been talking to the coroner just before she left. Hopefully, the coroner should be able to tell him where Bree had gone. He could see the lab. He reached for the doors.

  Dominic stepped out of the lab. The FBI agent frowned at Kace, suspicion immediately appearing in his eyes. “What are you doing?” The guy’s hand went to his hip, lingering near his holster. “You coming to tamper with the evidence?”

  Kace grabbed Dominic and shoved him back through the lab’s doors. The coroner—clad in green scrubs, wearing a mask and gloves—gave a quick gasp of shock as Kace pinned Dominic to the nearest wall. “Where is Bree?”

  “Get your hands off me! Dr. Crawford, call for security, call for—”

  “I was talking to Bree on the phone. She told me that she was going to meet Grayson, but then someone cut her off. I can’t get her on the line. I can’t get Franco. He was with her, and it’s as if he just fell off the face of the earth. I need her. Fucking now. Because Abby Johnson has a twisted ass trophy collection in her bedroom. She’s got keepsakes from all of the Strangler’s victims. Abby is missing. Bree is missing. Franco is in the wind. I need to know where Bree fucking is, right now!” The last part was shouted.

  Dominic flinched.

  “Tell us where she is,” Remy cut in, his voice hard but a little less insane than Kace’s. “You’re on her team. You’ve got to care about her safety.”

  Dominic’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “She…she is safe. She was going to meet Grayson.”

  Kace’s hands tightened on Dominic. “She’s not safe with him.”

  “She was taking back up! Your men! She said she’d be fine. She was going to the cemetery—”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Which one?”

  “Ah, I don’t think she said. I-I didn’t ask. She said it was weird he wanted to meet there, but that she had it and I should stay with the coroner—”

  Kace let the guy go and spun to face Remy.

  “We can send teams to every cemetery,” Remy said at once. “You have enough men on your payroll. We can search every cemetery in the area.”

  Kace nodded. “Get the men moving.” He rushed past Remy.

  Remy grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “St. Louis Number 1.” An obvious choice. The Strangler had been leaving victims in locations designed to catch the public’s attention. St. Louis Number 1 was the tourist spot for all the haunted tours because Marie Laveau was supposedly entombed there. What better place to leave a body than in an infamous cemetery?

  But not Bree’s body. Not Bree.

  “Wait!” Dominic yelled from behind him. “If Bree is in danger, I’m coming, too!”

  Kace didn’t give a shit what the guy did. As long as Dominic didn’t get in his way.

  Hold on, Bree. Baby, I’m coming. And if she was hurt…

  No, no. He’d get to her in time. Bree would be fine.

  But an image flashed in his head. For just a moment, he was back at Fantasy. Staring up at the blond woman who hung from the silks. And feeling as if his whole world had just imploded.

  He couldn’t lose Bree.

  Couldn’t.

  Because he loved her too much.

  ***

  Bree ducked behind a mausoleum. She could see light up ahead, the sputter of candles that had been placed near the bottom of another tomb. Her breath seemed too loud, the ragged inhales and exhales obvious in the silence. She needed to get to the cemetery’s outer wall. She could scale the wall, get out of there, and get help for Grayson.

  Or maybe…maybe she should circle back to him. Make certain he was still alive. She didn’t even know where the bullet had hit him. She just knew that he’d sunk like a stone.

  Bree began to inch away from her hiding spot. The candles up ahead flickered and—

  Someone was there. Someone wearing a black hood. Someone leaning forwa
rd to etch something onto the side of that tomb. The person eased back and the hood fell.

  It’s just a teen. Some kid with piercings that glinted in the light. A girl, young and—

  Teens always have phones on them. Bree sprinted toward the girl—

  Franco appeared. He grabbed the girl. Put the gun under her chin. “Stop, Bree.”

  She stopped.

  The girl was struggling. Twisting and crying and screaming.

  “Shut the hell up,” Franco snapped at her. “Your dumbass shouldn’t even be out here.”

  Abby burst onto the scene, breathing hard. Then she saw the girl in Franco’s arms. “What in the hell?”

  “Consider it a two-fer,” he grunted. “We can dump her body with Bree’s.”

  The girl screamed.

  Abby slugged the girl in the jaw. No, she didn’t slug her. She hit her with a gun. Shit. Bree hadn’t thought Abby was armed.

  She’d been wrong.

  Bree surged forward, but Abby brought her gun up—and aimed it at Bree. The teen had slumped back in Franco’s arms, knocked unconscious.

  “I am not playing with you,” Abby spat at Bree. “So, let me just tell you what’s going to happen, Bree. You’re going to do exactly what I say, or Franco and I will take our time and carve up that girl.”

  “Aw, Abby,” Franco mumbled. “I don’t like cutting. You know that. I don’t like the blood. It’s too messy. Don’t like the fire, either. It’s not the same. You know I like to feel it when I squeeze the life away.”

  Every muscle in Bree’s body was tight with tension.

  “Don’t worry, Franco,” Abby assured him. “You’ll feel plenty. Tie up the girl. She should have stayed her ass home and not gone creeping through a cemetery at night, asking for some freaking charm from a dead voodoo queen.”

  He dropped the girl’s body. Reached into a bag—Bree hadn’t even noticed the bag, but he’d slung it over one of his shoulders. He pulled rope out of the bag and quickly bound the girl. Her hands and her feet. Then he slapped duct tape over her mouth.

  Franco looked toward Bree. The candles were still sputtering around the tomb. Marie Laveau’s supposed resting place. She could see all of the X’s that had been marked on the tomb.

  “This is where you’ll die, Bree,” Abby told her, voice triumphant. “The cemeteries are supposed to be closed at night. No one gets in because the cops patrol. But hey…guess what? The cops won’t be patrolling tonight. I made sure of it. Or rather, Kace did.” A little laugh. “Franco there, he told the cops on Kace’s payroll that the boss wanted everyone clear of this place tonight. When the boss says jump, the uniforms say how high.”

  Bree slipped back a little.

  “Don’t!” Abby blasted. “Don’t try to run! I told you, if you give me trouble, I will make that girl over there beg for death. You don’t want that, do you, Bree? That’s not what an FBI agent should want. You should want to protect her.” A laugh. “You should want to offer up your life for hers.”

  “You’re going to kill us both anyway.” She wasn’t dumb enough to think that Abby would let the girl escape. Not when the girl could give a description of her attackers. And there’d been just enough candle light there for the teen to see—

  “I planned to kill you. She wasn’t part of my plan. I’m improvising right now.”

  Franco kicked the girl. The slumped figure didn’t even grunt. How hard had Abby hit her? Franco pulled back his leg to kick the girl again.

  “Stop!” The cry tore from Bree.

  “Get the rope over here, Franco,” Abby ordered. “Tie Bree’s hands. Tie her feet!”

  He yanked more rope from his bag. Rushed toward her. She realized he’d put on gloves. Abby wore gloves, too. Because they’d done this before. Killed. They were about to set their crime scene.

  Abby was obviously the boss. A killing team. Abby gave the orders, and Franco scrambled to obey.

  He grabbed Bree’s arms and yanked them behind her back. She felt the thick, rough rope cut into her wrists. Then he bent low, his hands sliding up her legs as he tied her feet. If she tried to move, she’d fall flat on her face.

  Abby bent and grabbed Franco’s bag. She shoved the gun into her waistband and pulled out a long silk. “Recognize this?” Abby taunted as she came closer to Bree.

  Yes, she recognized the silk. It looked like part of the set that had hung in Fantasy.

  Abby looped the silk around Bree’s neck. Once, twice, then she began to pull the two ends.

  “I get to do that,” Franco whined. “That’s my part.”

  Abby was still staring straight at Bree. “So it is.” A laugh. “You’re going to die right here, Bree. Franco is going to choke you—”

  “Just like he strangled all of the others?” Bree asked. She wanted a full confession.

  “Someone had to do it.” A shrug from Abby. “He was tired of taking orders, and instead of Kace giving Franco a chance to take power, the guy actually started trying to go legit. Can you believe that crap? He was going to change everything.”

  “It was my turn to be boss,” Franco growled.

  Bree swallowed. The silk was tight against her throat.

  “We thought about killing him,” Abby confessed. “But Lindsey heard us talking.”

  So she had to die. Hell. Grayson’s profile had been so wrong.

  “She was screaming for help,” Franco cut in. “I just stopped her screams.” He moved to stand next to Abby.

  Abby still gripped the edges of the silk. “When she was dead, I remembered dear old Brittney Lang. Everyone had thought that Kace killed her. And since Lindsey worked for him—”

  “You got the idea to set him up,” Bree finished.

  Abby jerked on the silk. Bree gave a desperate gasp.

  More laughter from Abby. The bitch thought death was funny.

  Franco’s hands rose. He took the silk from Abby. Yanked hard on the silk as Abby backed up a step.

  Not getting your hands dirty, Abby?

  Abby told her, “The Feds came sniffing around hard. It was easy for me to figure out what Grayson wanted. So, I gave him intel on Kace. I worked with him. And I kept the bodies coming. The bitches who’d been in my way over the years became useful. When they died.”

  Franco’s body brushed against Bree’s. “When you die, your face is going to turn all purple.”

  Abby had pointed the flashlight right at Bree.

  “Your eyes will go red. You’ll gasp and shudder. And your tongue will flop out of your mouth.” He started rolling the silk around his fists, making the noose tighter on Bree’s neck. “You’ll be so fucking ugly before I’m done with you.”

  The light didn’t waver from Bree’s face.

  “Grayson finally did some actual detective work,” Abby muttered. “He realized I was the one who tried to run you down at Kace’s place. I just couldn’t help myself. I’d been talking to Franco, planning our next move, and then you were right there. If you just hadn’t moved so fast, I would have gotten you.”

  Bree was desperately weighing her options. There weren’t a whole lot of them. If she didn’t get free, she was dead. Her hands jerked hard on the ropes behind her, and she felt the blood trickling down her wrists as she struggled.

  “To buy some time, I fed Grayson some BS sob story about being in love with Kace. About losing control and trying to hit you with my car. But the truth is…fuck Kace. Fuck you. I don’t care about either one of you. It’s time for Franco to rule this town, and I’m going to be right at his side.”

  “You’ll… be at his…side….” Bree had to gasp out the words. “In…jail…”

  Abby just gave a wild laugh. “Kill her, baby,” she urged Franco as she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Kill her, and we’ll set up her body. The tourists can find her in the morning, and Kace will lose his shit when—”

  Bree slammed her head into Franco’s. Hit him as hard as she could and heard the crunch of bones. That had better have been his nose brea
king. She staggered forward, then hunched her upper body as she drove her shoulder straight into his mid-section. The air left his lungs in a whoosh of sound as they slammed forward. And when they hit the ground, there was a very distinct thud as his head connected with the nearby mausoleum.

  Her breath heaved in and out. The freaking silk hung around her neck, but Franco wasn’t shoving her off him. Franco wasn’t moving at all.

  “What did you do?” Abby’s frantic voice. She ran closer. “What did you do to Franco?”

  Before Bree could answer, Abby had grabbed the ends of the silk. She was behind Bree, standing up, and the other woman yanked hard on the silk, choking the breath from Bree.

  Chapter Twenty

  The cemetery gates gaped open. Kace had grown up in that damn city. He knew the gates were locked at sundown. They had to be. If they weren’t, then tourists or teens would slip inside. Too many times, the graves had been desecrated. Kids would pull out Ouija boards and try to summon the dead during drunk parties. Or they’d go to Marie Laveau’s grave and leave bloody chickens as some kind of dumbass offering. People who didn’t understand jack or shit would wreck the place.

  “Bree?” Kace called her name even as he pulled out his gun. No way was he going in that place unarmed. But there was no answer to his call. He’d taken a flashlight from the car, and he hurried inside. The mausoleums rose, the tall, white stones appearing like ghosts in the dark. Because New Orleans was below sea level, the dead weren’t buried in the ground. If they were underground, then when the city flooded, the bodies would just float away. So, the folks there had adapted. They put their dead in the heavy tombs. Places where the dead would stay. They’d made their own cities of the dead.

  His light shone over the ground even as fear ate at his guts. When he saw the blood, Kace felt his heart stop. A too thick pool of blood waited near one of the tombs. Fresh blood. Fuck. “Bree!” Kace roared her name.

  There was a trail of blood. Heavy spots that led through the darkness. He kept his light on the blood, and he raced through the maze of the dead.

  ***

  Her throat was on fire. Her lungs were burning. Bree’s head jerked back at a rough angle as Abby pulled the silk tighter and tighter.