by Brenda Novak
But…
Did he?
The man before Bennett lifted his hands. “I’ll tell you everything, Detective. All our secrets.”
Our secrets?
“All our lies…”
Our…
The man laughed again. “All our kills…and dear cousin Cameron planned so many of them—”
“No!” Cameron shouted and then—then Bennett felt a white-hot pain in his back. Fast and deep, cutting through flesh and muscle, sinking into him. It was a familiar pain. One that the Greenville Trapper had made sure he’d never forget.
That bastard Cameron just stabbed a knife into my back.
“Bennett!” Ivy screamed. She tried to shove past the dark-haired killer and grab for Bennett, but the man’s hands flew out and locked around Ivy. He caught her around the waist even as his other hand flew out and twisted her wrist, squeezing it so that she was forced to drop her knife. The butcher knife clattered down the stairs as Ivy struggled against him. She dropped her body, yanking down hard in an attempt to force her freedom.
And when she dropped, Bennett fired his gun. The bullet flew right toward the dark-haired SOB. It sank into his chest. The guy’s mouth opened in shock, then he slumped down on Ivy.
Bennett wanted to whirl and fire at Cameron. The traitorous jerk was behind him. He’d yanked the knife out of Bennett’s back and he was—
Cameron put the blade to Bennett’s throat. “Drop the gun, now.”
Bennett didn’t drop his weapon. If he did that, then Cameron would slice open his jugular. And while Bennett bled out, Cameron would attack Ivy.
Not happening.
Ivy shoved the other man off her. He fell in a heap, sagging against the stair railing. His eyes were closed. Blood covered his chest. Bennett thought he’d hit the guy’s heart, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Drop the gun,” Cameron said.
The fool had made a mistake. He’d stopped to give orders. He should have just tried to cut Bennett’s throat when he had the chance. Cameron thought that Bennett valued his own life—more than anything else. That the threat of death would work to control him.
So wrong.
Ivy mattered more to him than his own life.
In the distance, he could hear the shriek of police sirens. They wouldn’t get there in time, though, not in time to stop him.
Bennett smiled at Ivy. He knew he’d have to move fast. And he knew that Cameron might cut him too deep. It was a risk he had to take.
Another psycho with a knife…story of my life.
But he wasn’t scared of this psycho. He was just pissed.
Ivy was crouched on the stairs. She shook her head as she gazed up at him. “Bennett…”
I love you.
Then—in a lightning fast move—Bennett twisted his wrist, aiming the gun behind him, and he fired back as fast as he could, pulling the trigger on his weapon. He could feel the burn of the bullet slide past his own side as it flew back and sank deep into Cameron’s stomach.
Cameron grunted at the impact, and then his knife sliced across Bennett’s throat as he stumbled back. But Bennett was already moving, too, spinning around fast so the blade barely nicked the surface of his skin. Bennett brought his gun up. He aimed it right between Cameron’s eyes.
Cameron dropped the knife. He staggered, falling down to the bottom of the stairs as he grabbed his stomach. “You…you shot me!”
Hell, yes, he had.
Cameron curled up even more. His face was chalk white and his eyes burned with hate.
“Ivy!” Bennett desperately called her name. He needed to touch her. To hold her. But he wasn’t taking his aim off Cameron. He had the feeling that sick jerk was just waiting for a weak moment so he could attack again.
But then she was there. Wrapping her arms around his stomach. Holding tight. Warm. Soft. Alive.
“No!” Cameron yelled. “No, she doesn’t go back to you!” He straightened up, but kept one hand over his bleeding gut. “Not after all I did…”
“All of those women,” Bennett said because he’d figured it out. “They were her, weren’t they? Only it wasn’t just one killer hunting…” Now it made sense to him. Two different cities…two different killers. One in New Orleans. One in Mobile.
And the victims…the women…all with dark hair like Ivy.
“Cameron?” Ivy’s voice shook with shock.
Cameron’s face hardened. “You’re the one who looked so good in blood. Remember that day at your…your grandfather’s old PI office? That guy with the knife had cut you…you bled and bled…so beautiful.”
Bennett felt Ivy tremble beside him.
The sirens were louder. The other cops would be there soon. The nightmare would be over.
With more bodies left to bury.
“I killed for you,” Cameron said as he gazed up at Ivy. “You hated your father. He was always in your way. Always controlling you. I told him that I would take care of you, that he could step back, and you know what he said? To me?”
Bennett wanted to pull the trigger more than he wanted his next breath.
I’m the cop. I’m supposed to hold back.
But…
That bastard had hurt Ivy.
“Your drunken ass of a father told me I wasn’t good enough for you. That I couldn’t have you.” Cameron’s stare cut to Bennett. He smiled. “I was better than him. I hadn’t left you. I never would. So I just…I eliminated the problem between us.”
“You shot my father,” Ivy whispered.
“I put him out of his misery!” Brutal words.
“And all those women?” Bennett asked him, sickened. “Did you put them out of their misery, too?” He had a feeling there were so many dead bodies out there, courtesy of Cameron.
Cameron’s face hardened. “I killed the first one when Ivy told me our night together had been a ‘mistake’, that it wouldn’t happen again. Because we were such good friends.”
“You sonofabitch.” Ivy took a step toward Cameron. “I didn’t love you. I never loved you. I loved Bennett! It was always him!”
“No!” Cameron shook his head. Hard. “He didn’t love you! He screwed with your head. It was me, it was—” He lunged toward her.
Bennett shoved Ivy to the side and he fired his weapon.
Cameron’s body fell back.
“It wasn’t you,” Bennett said flatly. “Not even close, asshole.”
Ivy glanced back at him. He could feel the blood pooling down his back, and his knees were getting weak. He threw out a hand, holding onto the banister, even as he kept his gun pointed at Cameron. The guy was still breathing, so that meant Cameron was a threat.
One I need to end.
“Go unlock the front door, Ivy,” Bennett said. I want her away from Cameron. “The other cops will be pulling up any moment.” This will all be over.
“How badly are you hurt?” Ivy asked him.
“Not enough to kill me.” He’d make that a promise. “Get the door, baby, please…” Because he didn’t want her to see what would happen next. He’d rather Ivy not remember him this way.
She hurried off the stairs, skirted around Cameron, then rushed toward the foyer.
Bennett glanced down at the man slumped on the stairs. The dark-haired fellow who’d called Cameron his cousin.
The man who was glaring at him.
Yeah, I knew you weren’t done yet, either.
“You didn’t just kill the dark-haired women, did you?” Bennett asked him. “You killed anyone you wanted. That’s why the councilman was murdered. Cameron liked the women who looked like Ivy, but you just liked killing.”
The sick freak smiled at Bennett. “Sounds like…” He heaved out a rough breath. “You know me.”
“I do,” Bennett said sadly. He knew the man’s type exactly. A killer, through and through. A man who now thought he had nothing to lose.
I guess I missed his heart. Maybe because a screwed-up killer like him doesn’t have one.
&
nbsp; The guy lunged up at Bennett.
He fired. Damn near point blank.
The bastard didn’t get up again.
Bennett kept his hold on the banister as he slowly made his way down to the bottom of the stairs. Then he leaned over Cameron, ignoring the pain that radiated from his back and ignoring the blood that dripped off him. He wouldn’t have long. Ivy would be back at any moment.
He put the gun to Cameron’s head. “She was never for you,” he said again.
Cameron’s eyes opened. He squinted, staring up at Bennett.
“You think you’ll play the crazy card. You think you’ll convince a jury that you were manipulated by whoever that dumb fuck was up there on the stairs.” Cameron’s cousin? Maybe. Bennett didn’t care who the guy had been. He knew exactly how this game played out. “You think you’ll get sent to some psych ward for a few months, maybe even a few years, but then you’ll get out again.”
Cameron’s lips began to curl.
Bennett pushed the gun down a bit harder. “You won’t. I’m not going to let you ever get near her again.”
Blood covered Cameron’s once perfectly white teeth. “You’re the cop. True blue…you can’t kill me like this.”
Couldn’t he? Without a hesitation. “You don’t know me. For Ivy, I would do anything.”
That smile of Cameron’s dimmed.
“You won’t hurt her again.”
He heard the screech of brakes outside. The cops, back-up, finally at the scene. If he wanted to take out Cameron, this was the moment.
“Bennett…”
He stiffened at that voice. Not Ivy’s voice. A man’s voice, pain-filled.
He kept the gun on Cameron, but Bennett turned his head. There, at the top of the stairs, watching him with wide eyes—her eyes—was Hugh. A very bloody but still alive Hugh.
“You’re better…than he is,” Hugh said.
Bennett wondered just what all Hugh had heard. “I can’t let him come after her.” And he knew, he knew from his time at Violent Crimes that obsessions like Cameron’s wouldn’t just end with some therapy. The man was too fixated on her. Too lost in Ivy.
It had to end.
He could do it. Right then.
“Don’t.” And now, that was Ivy’s voice. His head whipped toward her. She’d rushed back inside, ahead of the cops. She stood just a few feet away. Her eyes were on him. Tears filled her beautiful gaze. “He’s done, Bennett. It’s over.”
Then she ran to him. She took the gun from him and Bennett—he wrapped his arms around her. He held her tight. Just felt her against him—warm and safe and alive.
The cops rushed in. The chief was with them, and the guy swore when he got a look at the scene. Yeah, Bennett was sure the place looked like a real blood bath.
It felt like one.
Bennett tightened his hold on Ivy. “Cameron Wilde…he’s a killer. Wounded, but not dead.” Unfortunately. Not yet. “And the man…on the stairs…that’s his accomplice. He’s dead.” He had to be. Bennett had made sure of that one.
“Get some ambulances in here, now,” Chief Quarrel ordered as he hurried forward. A whistle slipped from him. “Damn, boy, just what the hell happened here?”
Death.
Two cops in uniform bent over Cameron. “Jesus,” one muttered. “Are you sure he’s still alive?”
“Yes,” Bennett rasped, “be—”
Careful.
Cameron’s hand flew up from beneath his body. A knife was gripped in his fist. Small, bloody. He drove that knife into the cop’s side and lurched up.
Boom.
That bullet blasted into Cameron’s head.
Silence.
Then Cameron crumpled and the cops swarmed.
Ivy still had the gun aimed, but her head turned, and her gaze met Bennett’s. There was no regret in her dark stare. No shock. No horror.
Her breath slipped out on a little sigh. “He won’t come back again.”
No. Neither of them would.
“Sometimes,” Ivy said. “The killers don’t stop…they keep coming…”
Until death.
He buried his face in the curve of her neck. He inhaled her scent. He felt her. Ivy…
Safe. Alive.
The best miracle of his life.
Epilogue
There weren’t a lot of people at the cemetery. The news crews had already came and left. They’d gotten their thirty second video to show on TV that night.
Ivy stood away from the graves. Two graves, side by side. Her gaze lingered on those graves as she thought about the tragedy that had been caused by the men beneath that dirt.
Cameron Wilde and a man who had actually turned out to be Cameron’s cousin, Julian Abbott. Julian had been a New Orleans native. From what Bennett had learned, Julian had been in trouble with the law for years, but his wealthy family had smoothed over much of that drama.
And Cameron…
I never saw the truth. How could she have been so blind?
“Ivy.”
Her eyes closed and she shivered. Bennett said her name like no other. Softly, sensually, and, most importantly, with love.
His hands closed around her shoulders. “The cops in New Orleans finished searching Julian’s estate there. They found a diary that he’d been keeping. He and Cameron—shit, baby, there were more victims. Victims dating back—”
“Back to the day I made my ‘mistake’ with Cameron,” she said, pain twisting through her.
Bennett turned her in his arms. “You didn’t do a damn thing.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Cameron did it. He’s the one who started it all—Julian wrote that Cameron made the first kill. They were drinking in New Orleans. Cameron was at one of the parades over in the Big Easy with his cousin. They saw a woman who was perfect. Cameron slept with her, then he found a Mardi Gras mask at Julian’s place. He found that mask, put it on…”
And she’d died.
“After that…” Bennett exhaled. “Julian wrote that it became a game for them. All about power and the thrill. Sometimes, they’d hunt in Mobile. Sometimes in New Orleans. But Cameron tried to set up rules, and Julian didn’t like to follow orders. Hell, from what I can tell, he just liked to kill. So he chose different targets. He…hell, Ivy, he fits the pattern of a psychopath. The only person Julian seemed to care about was Cameron, only Cameron never told him why they were only supposed to kill brunettes. He never told him about you, not until the end.”
She shivered. “He…Julian lost control, didn’t he?”
“I think he felt like Cameron had been holding back on him. Keeping a secret—keeping you secret—only there weren’t supposed to be any secrets between them.”
Such a twisted pair. “When I saw Julian kill Evette—”
“Cameron set that up. He told Julian when to kill that woman. Told him your float number, told him what side you’d be on. The fucking bastard wanted you to see it happen, but I don’t think he realized just what chain of events that would set in motion.”
A chain of events that led to murder.
“He didn’t know you’d jump off that float to save her. Cameron didn’t know that Julian would get a good look at you, that he’d start stalking you because he’d realized how much you meant to his cousin…and to their game.” Bennett’s gaze slipped to the graves. The funeral home had put one spray of flowers on each grave. No other flowers were at the scene. “But their game is over, and they can’t hurt anyone now.”
No, they couldn’t.
“I didn’t want that on you.” His forehead sagged forward and pressed to hers. “I didn’t want you killing Cameron. You should have let me do it.”
She’d known he planned that. She’d also known… “Bennett, I carry my own darkness.” She put her hand on his chest. “Cameron stabbed you. He wanted you dead.” She’d shot that bullet not just for herself, but for Bennett. For Hugh. “You’re not the only one who knows how to protect the people you love.”
His hand covered hers. “
I do love you. I never stopped.”
Neither had she.
His head lifted. He stared down at her with a tender gaze. He’d been patched up, she’d been patched up, and her brother—Hugh was slowly healing. Julian had tried to kill him. He’d stabbed her brother five times, but Hugh had survived.
We’re all survivors.
They’d survived the madness. They’d beat the monsters.
This time.
“You have to admit,” Ivy murmured, “I’m not the worst partner in the world, am I?” She had rather saved the day. At least, she thought so.
Bennett’s gaze dropped to her lips. “Not the worst. The damn best…the only one I ever want.”
She smiled at him. “Good answer.”
Bennett pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I want to do everything right with you this time.” He tucked her hand under his elbow and they walked away from that cemetery. From the monsters that would never hurt anyone again. “Every damn thing. I want you to know what you mean to me.”
Ivy just shook her head. They didn’t speak again until they were out of that cemetery. Until they were away from the ghosts.
The sun streamed down on them. Bright and warm.
She tilted her head back, just enjoying the moment. Happy to be alive.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Ivy finally said. “All you have to do…just keep loving me, Bennett. Love me.”
Always.
And she would love him.
Through the good times. The bad. Through whatever hell came their way.
No more fear. No more secrets.
Partners.
THE END
A Note From the Author
I was thrilled to be included in this anthology—it is for such a worthwhile cause, and I have long been a supporter of the great work that Brenda Novak does in order to raise money for diabetes research.
Thank you for reading the anthology. Thank you for your donation! I hope that you enjoyed all of the tales in this set.
My contribution to SWEET DREAMS was the romantic suspense tale, UNTIL DEATH. I grew up in Mobile, Alabama, and Mardi Gras was always a city-wide event that swept everyone away in a wave of excitement. I’ve always loved Mardi Gras (only without serial killers!), and it was great to have the opportunity to write about a city so near to my heart.