by Cynthia Eden
Katherine swallowed back her fear. “You think you know me so well.”
How long would Dane be able to hold his breath?
“You want to save the world, Kat. It’s your flaw.”
Not this time.
You don’t know me.
She thought of all the self-defense classes she’d taken. Hours and hours, so she wouldn’t be weak. So she wouldn’t freeze when this one moment came.
Her fingers slipped from his, letting go of the gun. In the next instant, she was spinning in his arms—and her fingers went straight for his eyes. He cried out in shocked pain and his hands automatically went to cover his eyes.
Giving her plenty of target space.
Katherine kicked out, aiming for his groin, using as much force as she could. He’d destroyed so much of her life—of so many lives—she wanted him to hurt.
He stumbled back. She grabbed the gun. She’d save Dane, all right, but she’d make sure that Valentine was dead first. She wasn’t going to let him come back and attack just as Dane was getting out of the water.
She lifted the gun. Aimed it at Valentine.
He was laughing.
She pulled the trigger.
And nothing happened.
He laughed harder. “That’s what happens with those cheap cop guns. When water gets to them, sometimes they just don’t work.”
No. No.
He rose, and there was something sharp in his hand. She could see the outline. Bigger than a knife. Longer. Jagged. Metal? Some hunk of metal or glass?
Water sloshed behind her. Katherine jerked and glanced back. Dane had just broken the surface of the water. Mac was in his arms.
And in the next instant, Valentine had his makeshift knife at Katherine’s neck. “Try to get away, try that little elbow trick again, I’ll slice your throat open,” he promised her. The rage was there, burning beneath his words. He’d always been so calm, so controlled with her before, but now…now she was seeing the beast.
She didn’t move.
“Do you want to see how much blood can pump out of sweet Kat?” Valentine called out to Dane.
Dane was heading toward the shore.
“Shove your friend back into the water,” Valentine ordered.
Dane stilled. Water poured off him. “He’s unconscious.” His voice carried easily. So did his rage. “Mac isn’t a threat to you.”
“Not now,” Valentine agreed. “Now shove him back into the water!”
“He’ll die!”
“Isn’t that the point?” Valentine whispered to Kat. “Your cop should be smarter.” His sigh blew over her cheek. “Just let him sink,” he told Dane. “Then you can come out and try to play the hero for Kat. Either you’ll die or I will. If you move fast enough, you might even be able to go back into the water and save old Mac before he drowns.”
Katherine shook her head. Don’t do it.
The weapon nicked her skin, and she felt the wet warmth of her blood.
“Stop moving, Kat!” Valentine barked.
“Don’t let him go,” Katherine said, ignoring Valentine. “Dane, bring Mac out! Save him!”
“Let him die, Dane,” Valentine snarled at the same time. “It’s him or Kat. You choose.”
Life was always about choices. Choosing to save. Choosing to kill.
Choosing to die.
She could feel Dane’s struggle. She saw his hands. They were wrapped around Mac’s body. His best friend. His partner.
Mac was already hurt. If he went beneath that water, would he ever come back up?
“I choose,” Katherine said as her right hand rose to her neck. Because, maybe, maybe this was the way it was always meant to be. It would hurt, there would be blood, but Mac would live. Dane would live.
Valentine?
It’s about the choices we make.
“No,” Valentine whispered in her ear. “Don’t.”
Because he really did know her well.
“Please…” Valentine was begging her.
Or was that Dane?
Both of them?
She pressed forward, heading not away from the weapon but toward it, even as she grabbed Valentine’s hand and tried to shove it away to the right.
The glass sliced across her throat. Blood slid down her neck.
“No!” Dane’s roar.
But Valentine had dropped the weapon. “Katherine!”
She sagged in his arms. Took them both down to the muddy ground. Water was sloshing. Dane coming to her. He’d better be hauling Mac with him.
Valentine’s hand was at her throat. “Why? I could have killed you.”
Her throat hurt, but it wasn’t an injury that would kill. The wound wasn’t deep enough to kill. She’d pushed his hand away in time, or maybe—maybe Valentine had stopped himself.
“Choices,” she told him, voice rasping. The slice might not be deep enough to kill, but it still hurt. “I couldn’t…let Dane…make the wrong one.”
Valentine leaned over her and lifted the chunk of glass. “He’ll still do what has to be done.”
Katherine stared up at him. Even in the darkness, she could see his pain. The hopelessness. Both were so clear to her. “Why?”
“Because I can’t stop myself.”
He lifted the glass over her. It looked like he was preparing to drive that weapon into her chest.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he told her, voice breaking. “I love you, Katherine.”
She grabbed his hand. Held the weapon back. “No you don’t.”
You don’t go out like this.
You don’t get to decide how this ends.
Dane slammed into Valentine. They rolled on the ground. She heard the thud of flesh hitting flesh. The men were pounding each other. Dane was on top, driving his fist into Valentine’s face. Again and again.
But Valentine was fighting back. He still had that glass chunk, and he shoved it through Dane’s right fist.
Katherine screamed, but Dane kept fighting. He rammed his head into Valentine’s. Drove his left fist into the killer’s stomach. The fight was brutal and bloody.
The glass flew from Dane’s hand.
Mac was on the ground a few feet away. Katherine ran to him. She felt for his pulse. Beating. Breathing. Yes. He’d make it. Now if they could just find Ross and Maggie, maybe they’d all have a chance.
All but Valentine.
Cops always had a backup weapon, and going on a hunt with Valentine, there was no way Mac wouldn’t have come prepared.
She reached down near his ankle.
Yes.
Not a gun. A knife. He’d strapped a knife to his ankle.
She leapt back to her feet and ran toward the fighting men. The knife was gripped tightly in her fist. Dane and Valentine were staggering to their feet. Getting ready to slam into each other again.
No.
It ends.
“Valentine!”
He spun at her call.
She drove the knife into his chest. His hands closed around her arms. His body shuddered. “Good-bye, Michael,” she told him, voice breaking.
Because now she understood. Michael had wanted her help all along. He’d wanted her to save him, as she’d tried to save her mother.
Only saving Michael meant killing Valentine.
“I did it,” he whispered. “I died for you.” His fingers eased their grip on her. He staggered, then fell, his body slumping over.
In the next moment, Dane was there, pulling her against him. Holding her so close.
She heard a whoop-whoop-whoop fill the air, and a gust of wind blew over her face.
The helicopter. The helicopter was there.
It was landing. She could see the bright lights spilling from it.
“The…cavalry…” Valentine whispered.
Dane’s gaze was on Katherine’s neck. “Why the hell did you do that? He could have cut your throat wide open.”
“I shoved his wrist back. From that angle, he wasn’t going to be
able to do much damage.” She’d practiced that move before. He didn’t realize how many self-defense classes she’d taken over the years. She’d tried to prepare herself, again and again, for this moment.
He pulled her against his chest again. Held tight. He was soaking wet, so was she, and she could feel the shudders that shook his body. Voice thick with fear and rage, he said, “I thought you were going to die in front of me.”
She’d been afraid that she might.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he ordered, and held her even tighter. “I think I lost about ten years of my life.”
Better than losing all of it.
Better than Mac losing his life.
Mac.
She and Dane rushed to the fallen man. There were other footsteps, racing toward them now. The helicopter had landed, and the EMTs and the cops who’d been on board were running to help. The EMTs. Valentine had made that request deliberately, because he knew that they would be hurt. That I might be hurt.
Mac was groaning and trying to open his eyes. A giant cut ran from his temple to his jawline. “Did we…get him?” he asked, squinting to see in the dark.
“Yeah, buddy, we did.” Dane clasped his hand.
Katherine glanced back at Valentine’s body. The knife handle rose from his chest. She’d driven that blade in as hard as she could.
His blood was on her hands.
She tried to wipe the blood onto her jeans. The sticky wetness clung to her.
“Good…” Mac rasped. “Hope…bastard…suffered…”
Not as much as his victims had suffered, no.
The EMTs broke through the brush.
“Here!” Dane shouted. “We’ve got an officer down!”
Two men and a woman immediately ran toward Dane.
“Anyone else injured?” Another guy called out. He was coming up at the rear.
Dane backed away so the EMTs could work on Mac. “Our prisoner was stabbed.” He was edging near Valentine’s body. Dane had his arms at his sides.
The last EMT headed toward Valentine. “No.” Dane grabbed the man’s arm, stopping him. “Where’s the cop with you?”
A woman pushed through the brush.
“Karen, give me your backup weapon,” Dane demanded when he saw the detective.
He took the gun from her. Checked the clip, then said, “Now let’s make damn sure he doesn’t have a pulse.”
They advanced on Valentine. Katherine didn’t move. She felt as if her muscles were locking down. One of the EMTs put a blanket around her shoulders. It didn’t make her feel any warmer.
Carefully, Dane crouched near Valentine. Dane’s fingers went to Valentine’s throat. Stayed there.
Katherine began to count in her mind.
One.
She saw Michael, as he’d been the day they first met. That wide grin. The sparkling eyes.
Two.
She saw him with the engagement ring. Down on one knee. Asking her to marry him.
Three.
She saw him in his black painting apron…a knife still in his hand. Blood. You didn’t come home soon enough. The words whispered through her mind.
Four.
She saw him as he’d been moments before, when he’d turned at her shout. He’d seemed almost…eager as he pushed toward her. As he thrust his body right at the knife, even angling his chest so that her knife would sink into just the right spot.
Five.
She saw Dane shake his head. Valentine—Michael—was gone.
Dane rose and walked toward her. “It should have been me,” he said, voice rumbling. He pulled her into his arms once more. “I should have been the one to kill him. You didn’t need that on your shoulders.”
Actually, she did. Valentine had wanted to be saved. And in the end, maybe he’d gotten just what he wanted.
Streaks of red were lighting up the dark sky. Dawn was coming now. The night was truly ending. The darkness gone.
“What the hell?” Dane growled, and his body stiffened against hers.
She turned in his arms, followed his stare. With the rising of the sun, she could just make out the battered form of a small shack at the edge of the swamp.
“Sonofabitch.” Dane blew out a disbelieving breath. “He brought us to them. He brought us to them.”
It looked as if Valentine had kept his part of the bargain, to a certain extent. But would Maggie and Ross be alive?
She and Dane started running as one. Slogging through the mud, shoving away the bushes and branches. Dane yelled for backup.
The EMTs had loaded Mac onto a stretcher.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
She and Dane kept running.
Then he was at the shack’s door. He had his weapon drawn. “New Orleans PD!” he yelled. “We’re coming in!”
Then he grabbed the knob. Twisted. It didn’t give, so Dane kicked the door in.
The scent of death hit her then. Blood and decay. Hell.
And she wasn’t so sure they would be rescuing anyone that day. Valentine just might have taken more victims before death had taken him.
– 21 –
He didn’t see blood, but he could smell it all around him. Valentine hadn’t been lying when he told them about his secret little hideaway. Hell, out in the swamp, he’d probably been able to slice up his victims and feed the body parts to the gators.
No wonder no bodies had been found sooner.
It was always easier to keep the dead quiet when there were no dead to find.
The floor sloped in the cabin. Dane followed the scent of the blood. It was heaviest toward the right. The light from the growing dawn fell through the old blinds and revealed a wooden door in the right corner. Faded with time. Padlocked.
Screw the lock.
Dane lifted his foot and kicked that door open too. Then he rushed into the room.
The scent of blood was so much stronger…because there was a woman lying on a table in the middle of the room. A woman with pale blonde hair. A woman with duct tape over her mouth and with her hands and feet bound with rope.
Her arms were cut. Deep slashes that had sent blood dripping onto the floor.
Only the blood had dried on the floor.
And the woman…
Dane touched her. She flinched. Tears leaked from the eyes that she’d squeezed shut.
Katherine gasped behind him.
He knew this scene would be too familiar for her.
But this time, the ending would be different. The bad guy wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t win.
“It’s all right,” Dane told the blonde. Maggie. “You’re safe.” It looked like Valentine had been careful with his torture. No veins had been sliced. No tendons severed. He was playing with her. “It’s me, Maggie. It’s Dane. I’m here to take you home.”
Her eyes flew open.
Gently he pulled the duct tape off her lips.
“Dane?” Desperate hope.
“Yes, Maggie. You’re safe now.”
Deep, shuddering sobs shook her body.
He jerked at the ropes. Twisted. Yanked. Had her hands free. She was naked and bloody and she locked onto him, holding tight.
Katherine freed Maggie’s legs. Dane didn’t even know where she’d gotten it from, but Katherine wrapped an old blanket around Maggie.
“You…” Maggie whispered as she blinked at Katherine. “I know you…”
Katherine’s bottom lip trembled. “You’re going to be safe now.”
Maggie shook her head. “He’ll come back. He said he was coming, that he was going to kill us.”
“He’s the one who’s dead,” Dane gritted out as his back teeth ground together. “He can’t hurt anyone ever again.” He hoped the bastard was fucking burning in hell right then.
Tension thickened in Dane’s gut. They’d won. They’d defeated Valentine. They’d just found one of his victims—alive.
Only…
Only the scene felt wrong, and he kept remembering the explos
ion that had rocked the house on Oakland. Valentine had told Katherine that he’d learned from his mistake in Boston. That he didn’t want to leave evidence behind.
The shack was crammed with evidence.
Valentine had planned everything so perfectly. Too perfectly?
He said he was coming, that he was going to kill us. Maggie’s words whispered through his mind.
At the station, the guy had kept saying…Tick, tick, tick.
He’d made the house on Oakland explode because he didn’t want to leave any evidence behind, and this little cabin with its heavy stench of death—it was full of evidence.
Tick, tick, tick.
Dane swallowed and fought to keep his voice steady as he said, “Katherine, take Maggie out to the EMTs.” Get out, Katherine. Get out now.
“Ross has to be here,” Katherine said, glancing around.
Dane would search for him while Katherine waited safely outside. But if he told her why he was worried…
She won’t leave me.
And he couldn’t leave Ross alone there. Not if his suspicions were correct.
Choices…
He was making his.
“Get her out. I’ll be right behind you.”
Maggie let go of him and grabbed tightly to Katherine.
Dane caught Katherine’s chin. Tilted her face up to meet his. “I love you, Katherine Cole.”
She smiled at him. “And I love you.”
His jaw locked. “Go.”
Valentine had told him that Ross didn’t have much time left. If the guy had been cut, bleeding out…hell, even Valentine couldn’t have been that precise about the timing of the guy’s death.
What had Valentine said? Every precious second just ticking past.
Tick, tick, tick.
Had the bastard been telling Dane exactly what he had planned?
Katherine was at the front door. She was guiding Maggie out. Katherine glanced back. Smiled at him. He saw love on her face.
I love you, Katherine.
If you wanted to get specific about a man’s time of death, there was one surefire way to guarantee the kill.
Dane glanced at the door on the left. The door that Katherine had probably thought was just a closet, but he’d gauged the length of the cabin and he knew the door would lead to more secrets. More death?