Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer

by Cynthia Eden

  He twisted the doorknob. The door swung inward easily.

  The rising sun hit the lone window in that room. He could see all of the photos on the wall. Dozens of them. Black-and-whites. So many bodies. So many deaths as victims were immortalized in their last moments.

  And though Dane heard no sound, his gaze was drawn to the far corner of the room. The corner cloaked in shadows. The corner where Anthony Ross sat, tied to a chair, with duct tape over his mouth.

  Very, very slowly, Dane walked toward him. As soon as Ross saw him, the marshal started to frantically shake his head.

  Because there was a bomb strapped to his chest. A bomb with a countdown ticking away in big, bold numbers.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  A mirror was positioned in front of Ross.

  So he could watch the minutes of his life tick away?

  Valentine had been a sadistic bastard.

  And Ross had only two minutes left.

  No time for a bomb squad to come in.

  No time for much of anything, but death.

  Dane tucked the gun into his waistband. He lifted his hand and pried the duct tape off Ross’s mouth.

  “Go…” Ross whispered. “No time…I’m…already dead…”

  “No, you’re not. You’re fucking not.”

  He stared down at the bomb. Crude, but it would get the job done. Three wires. Just three. Red. Yellow. Blue.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! Which one? Which one would be the trigger?

  Then he remembered something else that prick Valentine had said at the station. You’re gonna be seeing red…

  He’d thought the guy was talking about seeing blood. But, no, what if Valentine had been talking about the red wire?

  He backed away. “I need a knife.” His gaze fell to the left. To the row of knives that were sharp and gleaming. Knives that Dane knew had no doubt killed so many.

  He grabbed the smallest one. Bent low over Ross.

  “Wait!” Ross wheezed.

  Dane glanced up at him.

  “Do you know…what you’re…doing?”

  “We’ve got about sixty seconds, so does it even matter? I figure we got a damn one in three shot here.”

  Ross’s eyes bulged.

  The floor creaked behind Dane. No, no, no…

  “Dane?” Katherine called. “Dane, I need—”

  “Get out!” he roared as fear twisted his heart.

  Forty seconds.

  But her footsteps weren’t running away. She was coming toward him. She thought he was in danger. Coming to help. Always coming to help.

  Thirty seconds.

  He couldn’t let her get any closer. If he was wrong about the wires, then she’d be dead. But if she stayed in the outer area, she might make it. She might—

  Twenty seconds. “Stay back!” Dane yelled.

  He cut the red wire.

  The countdown stopped.

  Hell, yes. Dane let out the breath he had been holding.

  He sliced through the ropes.

  “Dane?” Katherine was behind him. Voice frantic. He looked back. She had the gun clutched in her hand. Her eyes widened, and he knew she’d caught sight of the bomb.

  A bomb that he was slowly moving off Ross. Slowly…slowly…

  He put the bomb down.

  “Now,” Dane snapped, “let’s all get the fuck out of here.”

  They ran for the front of the cabin.

  And they’d just cleared the steps when the place exploded.

  The crowd of reporters surrounded the DA, watching his every move. The cameras were zoomed in close, the microphones scattered over the podium. Meadows, his face grim, stared back at the assembled group. “Our latest estimate is nineteen victims.”

  Stunned silence.

  Then a deluge of questions erupted. Dane shifted against wall, his battered body aching, as he watched the throng attack.

  Meadows lifted his hand. “Valentine didn’t want anyone to know the true extent of his crimes.”

  No, the sonofabitch sure hadn’t wanted to share his secrets.

  “But our crime-scene techs are doing an amazing job of recovering evidence from the area surrounding his cabin.”

  Recovering evidence. Finding body parts out in the swamp that the gators had missed or just hadn’t wanted.

  The DA cleared his throat and said, “Valentine intended to kill Margaret Dunning and U.S. Marshal Anthony Ross on Valentine’s Day, and it was only through the very swift and brave actions of Detective Dane Black that those two individuals were spared.”

  There was a smattering of applause. Cameras turned his way. Dane kept his expression blank. He wasn’t looking for thanks. He’d just been doing his job.

  Actually, the last thing he wanted right then was to be in the limelight. He wanted to be away from those reporters. Away from the station. He wanted to be with Katherine.

  Katherine.

  “But unfortunately, not everyone survived the deadly blast that Valentine had rigged so carefully.” Sorrow softened the DA’s voice. “Katherine Cole, the woman originally known to many of you as Katelynn Crenshaw…”

  “Valentine’s fiancée,” one of the reporters said, nodding quickly.

  Dane stiffened.

  Meadows shook his head. “Katherine Cole did not make it out of the blast. She risked her life to apprehend the Valentine Killer. To stop the bloody trail of his kills. The department—the whole city of New Orleans—will never forget the sacrifice that she made for us.”

  Dane knew he was supposed to keep holding it together. Not let any emotion slip out. The killer had been stopped. The streets were safe.

  But all he could think was…

  Katherine.

  His gaze swept over the crowd. The DA and the captain were going to give him and Mac some kind of fucking medal soon. He didn’t want the medal. Didn’t want the stupid slaps on the back. Didn’t want his face splashed in the papers. All he wanted was Katherine.

  But hadn’t he realized that truth, before the explosion? Hadn’t he known how much she meant to him? When he heard her come back in that shack, when she’d called out his name…

  Dane forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. Meadows was looking at him expectantly. Shit. The captain was up there, too. They were motioning for him to come toward them. Right. Mac, bandaged, bruised, was already up there.

  The DA wanted a big picture of them all smiling for the press.

  He didn’t feel like smiling.

  Dane headed toward them. Positioned his body between the captain and the DA. As flashes from cameras lit the scene, Dane leaned toward Harley and told him, “I quit.”

  As soon as he could, Dane went back to his condo. Reporters were camped out downstairs, but a few off-duty cops were earning some extra bucks by keeping them back.

  After making his announcement to the captain, Dane had packed up his desk. Harley had argued, damn near begged, but Dane had stood firm. He didn’t want to work in New Orleans anymore. Too many memories were in this city. Good and bad.

  Too many memories, and not enough hope.

  The elevator dinged and spat him out on his floor. The carpet muffled his footsteps as he headed toward his home. A cold, dark home. Was that what he wanted for the rest of his life?

  No.

  He juggled the box of his belongings with one hand and unlocked his door. So dark inside. He didn’t flip on the lights. Just shoved the box onto the nearest table. Then he slammed and locked the door and—

  Soft hands wrapped around him. “I was wondering if you were ever going to come home,” Katherine whispered.

  His whole body stiffened. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  She should be gone. Flying away on a jet to some new town. To some new life. Ross had promised he’d take care of her.

  Carefully, Dane turned in her arms. Oh, but she felt good. It had been three days since he’d held her. Three days since the explosion. Three days since they’d hurtled out of that shack. His clothes ha
d caught on fire. She’d slapped at the flames, desperate to protect him.

  He reached out one arm and flipped on the light.

  “Katherine Cole isn’t here,” she told him as her gaze locked on his. “You can call me Katie.” A little shrug. “Ross always says it’s important to keep your names as close as you can to your original. That way, you can remember to answer when people call you.” The faintest smile tilted her lips.

  Dark red lips. To match her new dark red hair. Dark red, and cut shorter, with soft curls.

  The haircut made her look even sexier than before. Hell, who was he kidding? He always thought the woman was sexy.

  “It’s the new me.” Her smile dimmed. “And I hope it’s the last me.”

  Bandages covered her palms. Where she’d slapped at the fire that had burned over him.

  “You didn’t really think I’d just leave town without saying good-bye, did you?” Her voice was the husky purr that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” he managed to say.

  Pain flickered in her gaze, and her smile dimmed as her hands slid away from his waist. “I…ah…see…” Katherine—Katie—cleared her throat. “I didn’t realize…I thought you’d want…”

  He kissed her. Deep and hard. Let her feel the lust and need and love that were burning inside him. “I was gonna call Ross,” he whispered against her lips. “I was gonna make him tell me where you were. I figured after everything, the guy owed me.” And he’d planned to trade in that IOU for Katherine.

  She pulled away from him. Her eyes widened.

  “Wherever the hell you were, I was going there, too.”

  It had seemed like the perfect plan. With the explosion, Katherine Cole could disappear. She could escape all the reporters—and all the Valentine-obsessed loons out there—like Evelyn Knight—who would make her life hell. She could start fresh.

  One final relocation.

  One final life.

  Only it would have been a life without him.

  Ross had started making the plans immediately. Katherine had been taken away from Dane at the crime scene. The story of her death had been deliberately leaked to the reporters.

  Everything should have worked perfectly. Katherine would have her freedom. The killer would be dead. New Orleans safe. Should have been perfect.

  Except for one small problem. He didn’t want to live his life without Katherine.

  “Your life is here,” she said as she gazed up at him with her deep golden eyes. “Your job. Your friends.”

  She didn’t get it. “You are my life.” He’d tried living without her for just over seventy-two hours. Those had been the shittiest seventy-two hours of his life. “From now on, where you go, I go.”

  Then he did something he’d never thought he’d do. Dane dropped down to one knee. “I don’t have a ring.”

  She blinked. Then her eyes—those beautiful eyes that made him think of sex and love and hope—widened.

  “I’m so sorry, baby, I swear, I’ll buy you the biggest damn diamond in the world.” Well, the biggest damn diamond that an ex–New Orleans detective could afford. “I’ll buy you anything, just please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  She wasn’t saying anything.

  So he kept talking. Fast. He was holding onto her wrists because he didn’t want to hurt the wounds on her hands. “I love you, Katherine. Hell, I was willing to die for you. Willing to kill in order to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t want anyone dying for me.” Her voice was so soft.

  “Death is behind us.” He wanted life. With her. “You want to start over. You want to begin without the baggage of Valentine? Then let’s do it. Together. Let’s pick a small town. I can be the sheriff. Hell, I’ll pay my dues and start as a deputy if I have to. You can open another art gallery. You can paint. You can do anything you want. Just…do it with me. Start fresh…with me.”

  It looked like she might cry. He didn’t want her to cry. Oh, hell, no, he hated it when Katherine cried.

  “I want to wake up next to you in the morning and go to bed holding your hand each night.” His jaw locked. “Katherine, marry me.”

  She laughed then. A sweet, light sound that pierced right to his heart. “I don’t really want a diamond.”

  His brows lowered.

  “I don’t care about a ring.” She dropped to her knees. Brought her face close to his. “I just care about you. I love you, Dane Black. And Katelynn, Katherine, hell, even Katie—whichever one of us you want—we’ll marry you.”

  “I want you all.” Every part of her. He wrapped his arms around her. Pulled her close. “I want you.”

  Her gaze held his. “Then you’ve got me.”

  He kissed her and knew he had to have her. I need her. He wanted to feel her body against his. Wanted to be sure that the nightmare was really over. That Katherine was alive and safe and with him.

  Not a thousand miles away in a new town.

  Not dead, killed in an explosion set by Valentine.

  He lifted her into his arms. Made sure not to jostle her hands and took her into the bedroom.

  This time, he wouldn’t be frantic. He’d put a stranglehold on the insatiable hunger he felt for her. He stripped her, so carefully. Kissed her flesh as he tossed away her shirt and skirt.

  She wore a lacy black bra and panties. Looking at her made his whole body ache. Part of him wanted to rip away the panties. To just take…

  But being with Katherine was about more than taking. More than just sex.

  More than fucking in the dark.

  His fingers threaded with hers. He kissed her. Keeping his lips gentle and easy.

  He pulled away long enough to strip off his own clothes, and he threw them into the corner.

  With fingers that trembled, he slid off her bra. Licked, caressed her breasts. Such perfect breasts. He loved the way she moaned and arched up against him.

  She wanted more. So did he.

  He tried to be careful with her panties, but he still shredded them as he pulled the delicate lace off her hips.

  Katherine laughed.

  He loved the sound of her laugh.

  Then he was between her legs. She was wet and ready, and he was about to explode, but even though his muscles locked from the effort and sweat slickened his back, he pushed into her slowly.

  He stared into her eyes.

  And he saw forever. The best dream he’d ever had.

  “Give me more,” Katherine whispered.

  He’d give her anything. Everything. Just as he’d promised.

  The rhythm started slow. The bed creaked beneath him. She tried to touch him, but he was afraid she’d hurt her hands so he lifted them up, caught her wrists in one hand, and pinned them carefully to the bed.

  Withdraw. Thrust.

  Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes gleaming.

  He thrust harder. A little deeper.

  Her legs wrapped around his hips. “Dane…”

  He loved the way she said his name. Loved the way she felt against him.

  Warm. Sexy.

  There was no death here. No fear.

  She was moving faster. So was he. His climax was pressing ever closer, but he didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted to be with her. To feel the pleasure pulse through her body, around him.

  He kissed her.

  She came.

  He kept kissing her. Kept thrusting. He couldn’t hold off his release. Not any longer.

  His head lifted. He stared into her eyes. Saw her pleasure. “I…love you…”

  She smiled.

  And the pleasure swept over him.

  He’d fucked plenty of women, but with Katherine, only with her, did he feel like he was loving someone.

  “I don’t ever want to lose you,” he rasped as his heart thundered in his chest. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  Obsession?

  Love?

  Sometimes, it was hard to tell where one ended and the othe
r began.

  Valentine had crossed that line. Hell, Valentine had crossed a hundred lines.

  “You won’t lose me,” Katherine whispered as her breath panted out.

  “That better be a promise.”

  Her lips curled. “Detective, it’s a guarantee.”

  He smiled. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Dane actually felt happy.

  His past wasn’t going to haunt him. He wouldn’t let it. He wouldn’t turn out like his old man. Not fucking ever.

  Choices.

  Katherine had been right about that part. Life was all about the choices that people made.

  He stared into her eyes. She was his choice. The best thing in his life.

  He was stronger, a better person when he was with her.

  And he’d make sure, no matter what the future brought, that he stayed at Katherine’s side.

  For better or worse…

  Hell, they’d already done the worse part.

  Time for better.

  Time for life.

  No more nightmares. No more killers.

  This was the way the story ended for them. Not with Valentine winning. Not with death.

  With life.

  With love.

  EPILOGUE

  A new town. A new name.

  A new husband.

  Katherine—Katie—walked into her home and smiled when she caught the scent of fresh flowers in the air. Then she saw the flowers waiting on the kitchen table.

  Daisies. Not roses. Fresh, beautiful daisies. Her new favorite flower.

  For a moment, her heart beat a little too fast as the past tried to push its way into her perfect present. She walked toward the table. Let her fingers caress the flowers.

  Footsteps sounded behind her. Warm hands closed around her shoulders. She didn’t jump now when she was touched from behind. Not when she knew who was touching her. And she’d always know Dane’s touch.

  Smiling, she turned toward him.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, his deep voice rumbling.

  They’d been in their new house for just over a week. She was setting up her art gallery, and Dane—well, he was taking over the vacant sheriff’s position in town. Ross had seemingly found them the perfect new home.