“Let him go,” she whispered to Kace.
He did. Immediately. He also moved to stand protectively near her. His attention remained fixed on Grayson. “Get the hell out,” Kace ordered flatly. “Don’t come near her again. If you do…”
Grayson was on his feet. Glaring. “What? What will you do to me?”
Kace…smiled. And the cold smile in itself was a promise.
Grayson turned his glare on Bree. “We aren’t finished.”
No, they weren’t. She needed to brief him on everything that had happened, but this sure wasn’t the time.
“You are finished,” Kace assured him. “Bree might have been yours once, but from here on out, she’s mine.”
Now she jerked in surprise. “I’m not anyone’s.”
“Get your ass out of here,” Kace barked to Grayson. “And if you see Ms. Queen, you be nice to her.”
Grayson stormed out.
Silence.
Bree turned toward him. “You didn’t…” She cleared her throat. Kace thought he’d just saved her from a jealous ex. How should she respond to that scenario? What should she say? Maybe… “Thank you.”
“I’ll talk to Ms. Queen. He will not be getting back in to see you.” Kace’s eyes narrowed. “What in the hell is the story? Does he live in New Orleans? Did you come down here for him? Or did—”
“I’ve been trying to get away from him. It’s over.” Their physical relationship was over. Had been for a while. It had been over almost before it began. “I’m not going back to that place with him again.”
Kace’s eyes studied her. “Good.” He leaned toward her, and Bree thought that he was going to kiss her—
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Get some rest.”
Then he walked toward the door.
She stood there a moment, gaping after him. Kace Quick was supposed to be the big bad in the city. And yet he’d just rushed to her rescue. Since when was the criminal the hero? Or…was it possible…were the others wrong about him? Because he was not fitting the profile that she’d read on him. He wasn’t cold and calculating. He was white-hot. Burning with emotions. “I don’t get you.”
He swung his head toward her and gave Bree a fleeting smile. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to kiss you. Hard and deep, and we already talked about where that would lead.” He rolled back his shoulders. “I didn’t like that SOB being here. I didn’t like his hand being on you. I find that—where you’re concerned—I’m a bit predatory. Possessive.”
“We just met.”
“Yeah, like that matters. Some connections are primal. That’s what we are. Primal. And if you try to say you don’t feel it, too…” A shrug. “You should know, I’ve figured out how to tell when you lie.”
No way. But… “I feel it.” Her admission. She found herself walking toward him. Pulled to him. He turned to fully face her, putting his back against the door. “No one has ever tried to save me before.” That was another truth.
“Then you’ve been hanging around with straight-up assholes.”
She laughed. “You…are an asshole. Everyone says so.” Yet she closed the space between them. Put her hands on his shoulders. Curled her fingers over his jacket.
“I am. Don’t deny it.” His eyes gleamed. “But I am an asshole who would never hurt you.”
“Kace…”
“Step back, or I’m taking your mouth.”
She didn’t step back. And it wasn’t because of the case. Wasn’t because she was supposed to be getting close to him. Supposed to be learning all of his secrets. She rose onto her tip-toes. She brought her mouth closer to his because she wanted him.
Primal. Primitive. Yes, that was the way it was between them.
She wanted him.
Nothing would have stopped her right then. Nothing.
This time, the kiss wasn’t chaste. She met him with her lips parted, and his tongue immediately plunged inside. He didn’t kiss her softly. Didn’t treat her like she was some fragile piece of glass. He ravaged her mouth. Kissed her with rough hunger, savage need. His mouth fed on hers. His hands curled around her hips, and he lifted her up, moving her higher so that she felt the long, hard length of his cock shoving against her.
She gasped into his mouth. Realized that her nipples had gone tight and that she was arching against his cock. Realized it wouldn’t take much to have her raking her nails down his back—his naked back. Because the need was that hot. That consuming.
A firestorm, burning her alive.
“Stop,” she whispered against his mouth.
He did. He lowered Bree to her feet. His breath sawed in and out, and the lust was clear to see on his face. “Much better,” he muttered.
Yes, that kiss had been way better.
“There’s a bed behind you, Bree. Want to fuck?”
Well, things had been better until then.
“Just kidding, sweet Bree.” His fingers skimmed down her cheek. “Go to bed. Alone. You’re safe tonight.”
It was barely night. Dawn would be there before she knew it.
“I’ll see you back at Fantasy. Nine p.m. sharp.”
She wished that she could understand him. “Are all the things people say about you true?”
A half-smile curled his lips. “No.”
Bree was starting to think—
“The truth is one hell of a lot worse. Don’t forget that.” He inclined his head. “Night, Bree.”
And he left her. She was still aching for him, still turned on, and still trying to figure out if Kace Quick truly was a monster. Or if maybe he could be something more.
***
When Kace got back to the street, Bree’s ex was long gone. Too bad. He would have enjoyed beating the shit out of the guy. Why the hell did the joker think he could just break into Bree’s room? I didn’t like his hands on her.
That would be a problem. Kace knew he was getting far too involved with Bree. And they’d only just met.
He climbed onto the bike, but didn’t start the motorcycle. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the wallet he’d taken from Bree’s ex. The fool hadn’t even noticed it when Kace had made the grab. Mostly because Kace was good with his hands. When he’d been a teenager, he’d spent his nights lightening the loads of tourists along the streets. A little bump barely felt at all by most people, and he’d had cash in his hand.
This time, though, he wasn’t interested in cash. He wanted to know who the hell that bastard had really been. Because the fellow had looked familiar. Kace opened the wallet. Saw the FBI badge inside. Fucking hell.
FBI Special Agent Grayson Wesley.
Rage burned inside of him. He shoved the wallet back into his jacket. Grabbed for his helmet and then was surging into the night. He wanted Bree, but he’d be damned if he let her use him. There was no way he would fall into an FBI trap.
Maybe it was time to show the Feds just who was the real boss of this town.
***
He didn’t take her body to the St Louis Cathedral. He was tempted, oh, so very tempted. But the cops were watching that location. He’d left two bodies there for the cops to find, and the uniforms had staked out the space, being ever so vigilant now.
They had no imagination. They didn’t get that the whole city was his. He could do anything he wanted.
So, he chose another spot. He headed out onto the trolley tracks, picking the Canal Street Station. The first trolley wouldn’t come out until closer to six a.m. He hoped the driver was paying attention. If not, maybe one of the riders would find his lady.
He carried her across the tracks. The darkness hid him so well. He didn’t put her on the tracks, that seemed too obvious, so he put her on the side. Spread her out.
Her hands were still bound together. She’d been a fighter. A surprise, that. His gloved fingers trailed over her cheek, and her eyes flickered open.
“Hello, there.” He was glad that she’d woken up for this part. This was the best part, after all.<
br />
Her lips parted. He knew she’d scream. They always tried to scream, so he jerked tight the rope that he’d wrapped around her neck. Only a wheeze slipped from her lips as he pulled that rope so taut. Her body jerked and twisted as she strained against him, and he just kept his fierce grip on the rope. Her mouth was wide open, her eyes so wide. The light from the Canal Street Station provided him with just enough illumination to see—
“Hey!” The shout had his shoulders stiffening as he glanced over his shoulder and saw a bum staggering toward him. “What are you doing?”
Fuck. No one should have seen him. No one should be there, but some piece of shit bum was staggering his way.
He let go of the rope around her neck. She pulled in a gasping breath. Still alive.
The bum was ruining everything. Hating it, he pulled out the knife from his boot. And he shoved the blade into her chest. Her blood poured out, wet and disgusting, but he’d done the job.
He whirled and ran as the bum screamed out after him. The bum was screaming as loud as he could, and for a moment, he thought about killing that bastard.
Then he saw the flash of police lights in the distance.
Get away. Get away. He leapt across the trolley tracks and ran fast for the vehicle he’d stashed nearby.
His victim had been found before she’d taken her last breath. But he didn’t worry. She wouldn’t survive. There was no way she’d live to tell the world who he was. He’d aimed for the bitch’s heart. She’d bleed out.
I have her blood on me.
Shit. He had to get rid of the evidence. He’d made his first mistake that night. His first and his last.
The Feds won’t touch me. I’m invincible. They can’t touch me…
Chapter Five
Her phone was ringing. Over and over again. Bree let out a ragged groan as her hand slapped toward her nightstand. On the third try, she managed to actually hit her phone. Bree pulled it toward her, squinting at the screen.
Grayson.
She shot up in bed and put the phone to her ear. “What’s happening?”
“He took another one.” Fury vibrated in his voice. “The bastard dumped her near the Canal Street trolley tracks.”
Bree’s breath heaved in and out as adrenaline fueled her body, pushing away the remnants of sleep.
“Only someone saw the perp this time. Homeless guy caught him in the act.”
What?
“The vic is at the hospital. She’s still alive, Bree. Do you hear me? Still alive.”
Bree jumped from the bed.
“If she survives, she’ll be able to ID her attacker. We’ll be able to throw Kace Quick in jail for the rest of his life.”
Bree stumbled as she reached for her jeans.
“Get down to our Lady of Saints hospital, right the hell now. Come meet me.”
He hung up the phone.
And Bree realized that a cold, heavy knot of fear had formed in her stomach.
***
Chaos. When she burst into the ER, Bree felt as if she’d stepped into a madhouse. Nurses and doctors were running everywhere, and patients crowded the small space. Some were bleeding, some were vomiting, some were—
“Bree, back here!” Grayson barked.
He stood near the swinging ER doors. Dominic was at his side. Bree hurried through the crowd toward them.
“Freaking food poisoning on a tour group,” Dominic muttered as his gaze swept over the crowd in the waiting room. “The place is a zoo.”
Bree squared her shoulders. “How’s the vic?”
“Not good.” Grayson turned and shoved open the swinging ER doors. Dominic motioned for Bree to go in next, and she followed their team leader.
“The docs don’t think she’s going to make it.” Grayson’s steps were fast, and Bree had to double-time it in order to keep up with him. “The perp was strangling her, but when our witness interrupted, he pulled out a knife and drove it into her chest.”
Jesus. “Using a knife wasn’t part of his MO.”
“Guess he got desperate,” Dominic said from behind her. “Bastard knew he didn’t have time to finish her off by strangulation, so he pulled out a blade. Our witness said he could hear police sirens coming in the distance, and he was yelling for all he was worth.”
“Karin is with the vic now,” Grayson added as he turned right when the corridor branched. “I wanted an agent with her at all times. If she says anything, I want to know about it.”
A nurse started to approach Grayson, but she took one look at his angry expression and halted in her tracks. Then he made another turn, one that took them toward an operating room. They didn’t enter the room, though, but just watched from behind a large window as—
One of the doctors backed away from the table. Blood covered his gloves. He shook his head.
Inside the room, Karin turned away from the table, her solemn gaze sliding toward the window and immediately locking on Grayson. Her lips moved, and Bree could clearly see the other agent say—
She’s gone.
“Fuck,” Grayson snarled.
Beside Bree, Dominic let out a rough sigh.
Bree didn’t say a word. Her attention was focused on the woman who lay so still on that table. She could see the woman’s blond hair. Could see her neck and the purple bruises. The vic’s chest was soaked in blood.
“We don’t have an ID on her yet,” Dominic noted softly to Bree. “But she fits the Strangler’s victim profile. Early twenties, blond hair, pretty.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a connection to Kace,” Grayson snapped. Then he whirled on Bree. “We need to interview the witness. I want him talking to a sketch artist and giving a full description of the killer. I want—”
“The guy is higher than a kite.” Dominic shook his head. “Boss, I already tried talking to Hank Cannon twice now. He says the boogeyman attacked the woman.”
Grayson’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Then we talk to him a third time. And a fourth. A fifth. We talk to him as long as it takes, until we get more than a description of the boogeyman! A real sonofabitch did this. A flesh and blood killer, and I want him.”
Bree’s gaze darted toward the victim. The machine beside the woman showed a long, flat, green line.
“He stole my freaking wallet, Bree.”
Her head swung toward Grayson. “What?”
His jaw was set. “When he was playing the alpha asshole at your room, Kace Quick swiped my ID. So he knows I’m FBI. And that means he’ll be suspecting you.” His eyes narrowed with warning. “Get a cover story in place. And get ready for the asshole to grill you.”
Dammit.
“We have to bring Kace Quick down. There are three dead women in this city now. Three. I won’t have anymore. Not on my watch.”
***
At nine p.m., Kace sat behind his desk, waiting for Bree to make an appearance. He’d given orders to Remy that as soon as Bree arrived, he wanted her escorted to his office.
His orders were always followed at his clubs. Actually, his orders were followed everywhere.
So, at nine-oh-one, there was a brief knock at his door.
“Come in,” Kace called.
The door swung open. Bree stood there, dressed in her black uniform, looking far too sexy with her wide, golden eyes and her slick, red lips. Remy waited just behind her, and Kace’s right-hand guy looked far from pleased with his tight jaw and angry eyes. The guy knew all about Bree’s so-called ex. Remy had been the one to tear into the special agent’s life that day. And he’d found more than a few surprises. Kace wouldn’t be revealing all, he did like to keep some secrets close, but it was time to see just what truths he could shake from sexy Bree.
Kace didn’t rise. He waved his hand toward Bree. “You going to keep standing there?” He tilted his head. “Are you going to come closer?”
Her tongue swiped over her lower lip. “I feel like the fly. And you’re the spider, inviting me into your web.”
A pretty apt description.
She crept into his web. Remy didn’t follow her. Instead, Remy shut the door, giving Kace the privacy he needed.
Her steps were a little uncertain as she advanced, and her scent teased his nose when she sat in the chair across from him. Lavender. Must be the body lotion she used. He rather liked it.
“I guess I’m here for the scan, huh? That the way we’ll be starting every night?”
“Not time for that just yet.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m assuming you saw the news.”
Her long lashes flickered. “Y-yes.”
“The Press and the cops haven’t made the connection yet, but they will.” He watched her carefully, wanting to see what she’d give away. “The woman who was murdered today—I know her. Just as I knew the other two victims.”
“On the news, she’s listed as a Jane Doe—”
“Her name is Amelia Sanderson. She’s twenty-five years old. And a year ago, she worked in my club, Nightmare.”
Her breath came faster. He could see the quick rise and fall of her chest.
“She became obsessed with me.” He kept his voice low and easy as he spoke. “Fixated, if you will. I would find her waiting for me in my office. Naked. Once, she even snuck into my bedroom. She didn’t understand my rule about not fucking employees.” Not that he would have fucked Amelia. She’d already been like a broken flower. So desperate to survive. Her life had never been easy. He’d wanted to help her. Unfortunately, he’d just hurt her worse.
“I had to let her go,” he continued carefully. He didn’t add that Amelia had been hooked on drugs. He didn’t allow his employees to use. He’d sent her to a clinic, but Amelia had disappeared days later. That was why he didn’t think the cops had identified her yet. Amelia had been hiding, living on the streets, for months.
But someone had found her. Someone who’d wanted to use her…in order to hurt him.
“I let her go,” he said once more. “I didn’t kill her.”
“I-I never said—”
“So, you can go back to your FBI lover, and you can fucking tell him that I didn’t kill her.”
Her expression didn’t change. There was no stunned shock that he’d straight up called her out. No fast flushing of her skin to show that he’d gotten to her.