by Karen Rock
“I choose life.” Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she went for him in a straight, headlong charge. His back hit a steel table and it toppled, gleaming scalpels glittering in the air, metal spinning everywhere. Robby caught himself with a hand on the floor, but lost his grip on the gun with the other. It spun to the bottom of the stairwell, far out of reach.
She scrambled for it, but Robby slammed into her full force and they crashed to the bloodied cement floor, Robby on top and scrabbling for traction.
He wrapped his hands around her throat, a python’s embrace, tightening the harder she struggled. She heaved and choked, his punishing fingers relentless, his strength catching her off guard.
Her vision tunneled to Robby’s transformed face, his eyes black now, his lips pulled back in a hideous snarl. Pain radiated from her neck through her entire body. Crushing her bones. Stabbing her eyes. Pummeling her lungs.
Think. Think. Think.
Katherine closed her eyes, relaxed her muscles, and went limp feigning death, unconsciousness. It wasn’t much of a stretch.
“Katherine, no. No no no no.” A teardrop fell on her cheek. Robby’s grip loosened ever so slightly.
In an instant, she pounced, wedging an arm and leg between them to throw him off.
Gun. Get the gun. Fuzzy and disoriented, she barely managed to stay upright. She lurched into a sprint for the stairwell.
So did Robby.
His feet slapped faster and closer to her with every stride. Just as her fingertips brushed the Glock, Robby snatched it away and pistol-whipped her across the face.
Pain crashed over her in nauseating waves, surrounding her, sucking her down. She clenched her teeth. She had to stay sharp and watch for another opportunity. She labored to fill her lungs with shallow breaths; they barely squeezed past her battered, swollen throat.
“You did this. You,” he muttered, the end of the gun hard against her temple.
Her adrenaline was pumping and fear was screaming at her. But her training kicked in and she ran through her options. It was a short list.
Her fingers blindly groped the floor and encountered a small scalpel.
Chapter Nineteen
Nash arrived at Dallas Heat windblown, soaked, and out of breath. An accident on I45 slowed traffic to a crawl before coming to a flat-out stop, and he’d fumed at the forced delay while idling in the downpour. He needed to find Robby. Fast. Before leaving the apartment, he’d FaceTimed with Deena, who’d confirmed the necklace belonged to Layla.
Robert was the Last Call Killer.
Where was he? Nash’s quick search of the club came up empty. Now he paced outside of the main office full of unease. “Is Robert around?”
Reese glanced up from her laptop. “He mentioned he’d be late coming in. Said he had things to finish up at home first.”
Alarm rang in Nash’s ears, momentarily deafening him. “He’s at home?”
Reese flipped her black hair over her shoulder and shrugged. “I assume so. Haven’t seen him come in.”
“Call the police!” he shouted over his shoulder, his wet boots squelching on the floor as he raced for the exit. “Send them to Robert’s house.”
Reese followed and grabbed his arm at the exit. “Why? Is he in trouble?”
“No. But Katherine is. And Brittany Reins.”
“The missing girl? How—”
“He’s the Last Call Killer. Call 911; tell them to send an ambulance, too. If they give you any pushback, ask for Captain Harris and tell him Nash Hawkins is asking for backup.”
Since he technically didn’t know if either Katherine or Brittany were inside Robert’s house, his request might be overkill, but he’d rather err on the side of caution. His gut told him Katherine was in danger, and he’d learned to trust it. He shoved through the door, hopped on his bike, and tore out of the parking lot.
His blood raged as he gunned the engine. Water sprayed in cold fans as he sped through puddles. Katherine might be alone with Robby, at a sadistic murderer’s mercy. Nash had to reach her. Damn it. He never should have let her go alone in the first place.
The address already cemented in his mind from when he’d looked it up earlier, he raced past the I45 exit, avoiding the traffic jam, and zoomed down glistening back streets. In his mind, bloody scenarios played out. Had Katherine gone inside Robby’s house or simply looked around as she’d planned? At a traffic stop, he dialed her cell and was sent straight to voice mail.
Shit.
His teeth gnashed as his tires churned through streaming water the instant the light turned green.
Faster. Faster. Faster.
He wanted to howl when a school bus lurched in front of him. Katherine was tough and could take care of herself. But her guilt about Robert blinded her, made her overlook things, subtle hints about who he really was, what he was truly capable of. Her trusting nature was one of the many things Nash loved about her, but it also, in this instance, put her in mortal danger. If Robert spotted her on the property and invited her inside, she might have followed him.
Would Robert make such a bold move?
A serial killer who taunted police, playing deadly games with video clips and posed victims, sure as hell would. He’d enjoy showing Katherine around, pleased at fooling her.
Please, God, let it only be that.
Katherine would not become one of the Last Call Killer’s victims. He’d tear the weasel apart with his bare hands if he hurt her.
The wet rubber handlebars flattened in Nash’s grip. What kind of man preyed on innocent women? A sniveling piece of shit, that’s who.
Time to send the bastard straight back to hell.
Finally, he veered to a stop before an imposing brick house surrounded by a matching wall. He swore, his hands balling into hard fists, when he caught sight of Katherine’s parked, empty sedan.
Katherine was inside with Robert.
Nash’s heartbeat pinged, machine-gun fast. “Gate’s locked,” he muttered under his breath after shoving the immobile bars.
He had to get inside.
The smooth, slick surface of the twelve-foot wall didn’t provide decent toeholds. Across the street arched a dense live oak. Nash eyed a branch about twenty feet up. If he jumped from it, could he catapult himself over the fence?
His jaw tightened.
He’d make it.
He had to. Leaving Katherine alone in there with Robby wasn’t an option.
Hand over hand he scaled the wet, slippery tree before crawling out along the limb. As it grew narrower, he paused, weighing his options. He swiped the water dripping into his eyes and peered down the branch’s length. Any farther and he’d break it. He grunted as he grabbed the branch above him, swung himself up, and eyed the gap. It was even farther from the fence than the first one.
He backed up several paces. With an explosive burst, he hurtled forward, feet sliding, and launched himself off the limb’s tip. Every muscle strained as he flew through the gap and toppled over the fence.
He landed in an ungainly heap, his hands and knees striking the ground at odd angles. The impact knocked his teeth together, and his knee howled in pain. He pushed through it, willing himself on as he raced to the gate and activated its mechanical opener for the responding police. His legs pumped, his breath fast and short, as he sprinted around the house. How long had Katherine been inside? Was he too late?
Locked doors and metal-shuttered windows sealed the place shut. Racing back to the front, he paused beneath a portico and assessed a keypad. Password entry. How to outsmart the smart house?
He recalled Robert’s advice on how to choose a password. Pick the name of someone you’d never forget and a very important date.
His fingers jabbed the buttons, inputting Katherine528, her name and birthday.
It didn’t work.
What
could be even more important to Robert?
Nash’s mind raced, a hamster on a wheel, running pell-mell and getting nowhere. A hunch stopped his spinning thoughts dead.
The date Robert had kidnapped his first victim in Dallas, the day he became a serial killer, might be the most important date to the monster. Nash punched in the Vivienne1118, Robby’s first victim’s name and the date she went missing, and tried the door.
Nothing.
Sweat dripped off his brow and his breath quickened. Time was running out. He rapidly considered the Last Call Killer’s profile. Katherine said he’d killed before.
Who was Robert’s first victim?
Katherine’s voice whispered in his ear as she confided about her missing friend and Robert’s involvement.
Could Summer be Robert’s first victim?
She’d been blond and petite, he recalled from a picture he’d spotted in Katherine’s apartment. And she was out having fun, with friends…. Summer fit the victimology.
Nash’s back teeth clamped together.
Robert hadn’t saved Katherine. He’d spared her while he’d slain her best friend.
“Rescued my ass.” Nash swore a blue streak, trying to recall when Summer had been abducted.
Something about the date had stood out when Katherine shared it…
His heart stopped.
She’d said June 26. His mother’s birthday.
Fingers shaking, he pressed the buttons for Summer626.
He almost wept at the click of dead bolts sliding back.
In a flash, he blasted inside the home, gun in hand, marveling that Robert’s killing spree went back so far. He shook away the thought. Now was not the time to be impressed by Robby’s longevity. Katherine was in mortal danger.
Nash searched the first floor, frantic. A faint scream sounded to his right. He pounded down the length of a hall which seemed to stretch forever, darted into an office, and through its open closet door. He hurtled down stairs and dropped to a cement basement floor just in time to see Katherine slice Robert’s side with a scalpel.
Robert reared back in pain, then grabbed her by the hair and pressed a gun to her head. Nash’s heart nearly burst from his chest.
“Move!” Robert barked, shoving her toward the cage holding Brittany, too engrossed to have heard Nash’s descent.
Nash raised his gun and sighted down the barrel, desperately searching for a clear shot.
“No!” Katherine twisted, throwing her elbow into Robert’s blood-soaked side.
He stumbled, snapping her head back. But she threw herself forward, scrambling away on her hands and knees, leaving Robby open and exposed, a clear target for Nash….
Bingo.
Nash squeezed the trigger, and Robert jerked. He slumped motionless to the floor.
Thank God. Nash raced to Katherine’s side and set his gun on the ground, barely casting a look at Robert. The man’s head was mostly gone, but he deserved worse. Now he’d never harm another person again.
Nash helped Katherine to her feet and crushed her against him, rubbing her back, giving her chilled body his warmth. His love.
His hand trembled as he caressed her cheek and closed his eyes, breathing in her soft, familiar smell. She was safe. Whole. And in his arms. He’d never let her go again.
“Brittany!” Katherine twisted free and rushed to the bound girl. Nash grabbed a knife and joined her, sawing through Brittany’s restraints.
“How is she?” Nash asked through numb lips. Katherine could have died down here. He’d nearly lost her…. Relief shuddered through him.
“Barely hanging on.” Katherine used another blade, slicing through rope on the opposite side. “Brittany? Brittany? Stay with me, okay?” She slid Nash a sideways glance. “Robby?”
“Dead.”
Grief and horror filled her eyes. “Good,” she choked out.
Nash cut the last of the bindings and caught Brittany when she collapsed, free. She was ice-cold and limp.
Thunderous footsteps sounded on the floor above, followed by shouts of “Police! Police! Police!”
“How?” Katherine shrugged out of her suit coat and draped it around Brittany.
“I asked Reese to call 911 once I realized Robert wasn’t at the club.”
“But how did you get in?”
“I figured out the passcode. His first kill. Date and name.”
“Summer…June twenty-sixth…” Katherine’s lips lifted in a tremulous smile. “Good work, detective.”
Uniforms burst on the scene and Katherine turned away, quickly issuing instructions, directing arriving EMTs as well. Medics stabilized Brittany and lifted her to a stretcher, jerking an agonized cry from her throat that made Nash want to kill Robert all over again.
Katherine joined him. “Nash, the CSI techs will be here shortly. You’ll need to give your statement, then—”
“Leave. I know. I just want to make sure you’re okay first.” He touched her red, swollen cheek. “You need to have someone look at that.”
“I will. But I’ve got more important things to do first.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
She rose on her toes, pressed her cheek to his and whispered in his ear, “Thank you, Nash. For everything.”
“Anytime, darlin’. I won’t be far.”
“I was counting on that.”
Hours later, after the EMTs, the coroner, FBI, local police, and CSI had departed, Katherine joined Nash. The street was empty now, the reporters and rubbernecking neighbors mostly gone. Despite the storm clouds clearing, the yellow tape encircling the property lent it a desolate air.
“It’s over,” she said faintly, and her shoulders sagged. “I can’t believe it. All these years, hoping to catch Summer’s abductor and discover what happened to her, and the answer was right under my nose the entire time.” She swiped at damp eyes and her face contorted, battling back powerful emotions.
“Shhhhh,” he said, gathering her close and maneuvering her behind a van, out of sight of the remaining voyeurs. Her shoulders shook. “You don’t have to be so damn tough all the time. Not around me.”
Tears soaked his shirt as she sobbed. He smoothed his palms along her back. When she’d cried it out, he kissed her tenderly, tasting the salt on her lips.
She ducked her face. “I hate looking weak.”
“Weak? Never.” He tipped up her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Though you should probably wipe your nose.”
“You do know how to sweet-talk a girl.” She rolled her eyes before blowing into the tissue he offered. “I was an idiot for not believing you.”
“Just as long as you believe in us.”
“I do. And you’re a better detective than I am. You figured out the case before me.”
“Thank God I did.” He threaded his hands in her soft hair. “I was so scared,” he admitted in a whisper. “Knowing he had you. Knowing what he could do.”
“I told you—I don’t need to be rescued.” One side of her mouth rose.
He grinned, relieved to see her in-your-face attitude again. “I remember.”
“Thank you for not listening.” She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek, and he grabbed her hand and held it to his lips.
“Any time.” Their mingled laughter expanded in the air between them; a healing balm. “And it’s not over,” he added.
She laced her fingers behind his neck. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a new start for us. You solved Summer’s disappearance, and I passed my test. I meant to tell you this morning. My interview’s next week.”
“I’m so proud of you.” His heart thumped at her sudden, flashbulb smile. “Congratulations.”
“I still have to nail the interview.”
She gestured to the house. “At lea
st you’ll have plenty to talk about.”
His palms settled on the subtle flair of her hips. “Really? Because I was planning on leading with my favorite dance moves…thong choices…”
“Always a crowd-pleaser, but they might appreciate how you took down one of Dallas’s worst serial killers more.”
“You think?” he teased.
She scrunched her nose so adorably, he had to kiss it. “Just a hunch.”
“I love you,” he murmured, then captured her lips, kissing her passionately, letting his body communicate the rest of his heart. He had more to say to this incredible woman once she’d fully processed everything, but for now, this would have to do.
Epilogue
Six months later
Katherine blinked back tears as Nash and his fellow Dallas police cadets marched into the packed cathedral for their graduation ceremony. A brass band played and the crowd whooped and hollered, a recovered Brittany Reins the loudest, along with Deena Pierce and Nash’s large family.
“Nash is so freaking hot in a uniform,” Megan whispered in Katherine’s ear. “I might be okay with him not dancing anymore.”
“He’s only giving private shows now,” Katherine replied out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes riveted to Nash’s authoritative bearing in his crisp tan uniform. “For me.” She fanned her face, warm in the humid room, as she remembered the first time she’d seen him.
He’d been dressed as an erotic sex machine, but seeing him in his white gloves and hat, the pride on his face, the square set of his broad shoulders, aroused her even more…and made her love him deeply. This incredible man had helped her gain closure, achieve balance, and get her groove back, just as Megan had promised.
“You’re a lucky woman.” Megan elbowed her with a grin. “I’m definitely buying this year’s police calendar.”
“Heard that!” Officer Ned Blane, seated beside them, mock-frowned and threw a possessive arm around Megan’s shoulders.
“It’s for charity. Plus, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Megan waggled her left hand, diamond flashing. “You put a ring on it.”