Die for Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (7 page)

She flinched. She didn’t want to think about that. Because if she did, then she’d feel the guilt again. So much guilt that it seemed to choke her some days.

“He targeted you tonight, and you are damn well getting police protection.”

Did he think she’d refuse? She wasn’t the crazy one. Despite what one of the profilers back in Boston had believed.

“Until we catch this bastard, I’m making sure that you have someone watching you, twenty-four seven.” His eyes were lit with a stark intensity.

“Am I supposed to argue?” Katherine whispered. “I want him stopped. I want all of this to end.” She’d told him that before. If they could catch Valentine, then she might be able to sleep through a night, just once, without the nightmares waking her.

“Good.” He gave a grim nod. “Because your protection is starting right now.” A brief pause, and the heat in his gaze seemed to burn brighter. “And you’re gonna be spending the night with me.”

“I thought you said that you had an extra room.” Katherine’s gaze swept around the small condo. She could see a kitchen. A den. And then…just one door that seemed to lead to a darkened bedroom.

She glanced over at Dane. Dark stubble lined his jaw. His hand rubbed across the stubble, rasping slightly. “I might have exaggerated on that,” he said.

Katherine stared back at him. “Did you now?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch.” He offered her a tired smile. “I do know how to play the gentleman.”

Had she asked him to play a role? She didn’t like it when a man pretended to be someone he wasn’t. She’d rather see the frog, warts and all, than ever think she was with a Prince Charming again.

“Sorry you couldn’t get any clothes from your place,” Dane told her. His gaze was so watchful. She knew the guy was trying to figure her out.

Good luck with that.

“But the techs wanted to be thorough.”

Right. Because her home was a crime scene once again.

Katherine kicked out of her high heels. Her toes curled into the thick carpet. The condo was nice, clean, and dominated by a
flat-screen TV. The guy had to be a Marlins fan. She could see one wall was decorated with caps and a signed bat.

It was odd being in a man’s place again. It was the first time since Boston that she’d actually gone inside a man’s home. She hadn’t even ever visited Trent’s apartment.

“You can borrow one of my shirts for tonight.” He eased past her and headed into the darkened bedroom. Katherine followed him. The carpet muffled their footsteps. “I’m sure the techs will have clothes for you by morning,” he added.

“Or I’ll just buy something.” She kept her voice calm. She’d been doing her best to hold onto her self-control ever since she’d found the package waiting for her.
Don’t think about it. Don’t see that poor woman.

But she knew the image would stay with her. She never forgot any of Valentine’s victims. He wouldn’t let her.

Dane was rummaging around in a drawer, and he pulled out an old T-shirt. T
HE
M
ARINES.
She blinked. “I didn’t realize you were a military guy.” The hair that brushed his shoulders sure hadn’t clued her in. But the alpha attitude, yeah, that seemed to fit.

“Semper Fi,” he murmured as he tossed her the shirt. “Uncle Sam paid for my college.”

She caught the shirt, her fingers closing around the soft fabric. “In the marines…is that where you got the tattoo?”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. I guess you could call it an initiation, of sorts.” He lifted his sleeve to show her the twisting lines of a snake. “It’s to remind me that danger’s out there. And you need to be ready for it to strike at any time.”

She didn’t need any reminder for that. “Valentine…he was also in the military.” Michael had even gotten medals for bravery. He’d seemed to be such a good, honorable guy.

He’d taught her just how false appearances could truly be.

Dane lowered the sleeve. “Take the bed,” he told her, voice deepening as he closed in on her. “I’ll bunk down on the couch.” His body brushed against hers as he headed for the door.

At that light touch, she tensed, and her breath seemed to freeze in her lungs. Why was she so intensely aware of this man?

Her gaze lifted to meet his stare. His pupils were so big that his eyes looked almost black. And, suddenly, she had to ask the question that fear had made her forget before. “Why were you waiting outside my house tonight?” She wondered…had he been there to protect her? Or because he suspected her?

“I knew you were tied to my case.” He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “So I wanted to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe.”

Safe. That word again. She hadn’t felt safe in a long time. “So you were just waiting at my house? You didn’t see the killer come?”

His jaw hardened. “I wasn’t at your house all night. I…followed you.”

Her heartbeat kicked up. “Me and Trent?”

“Um, yeah. I followed you and the boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?” A hard edge had entered his voice. “Didn’t seem that way when he put his hands on you.”

He’d seen that, too?
He’d been watching.
“We ended things tonight. Before I…”

“Before you found the little gift?”

A jerky nod. “Trent and I aren’t what he wants us to be,” Katherine said. Then, because she found that she could be truthful with Dane, while she felt she had to keep on her mask with so many other people, she added, “
I’m
not what he wants
me
to be.”

“What does he want you to be?”

She glanced at the door.
Normal.
Hardly the type of thing she wanted to confess. “I think we should say good night.”

The floor creaked beneath his shifting feet. “If that’s what you want…”

No, what she wanted was to be normal. To be just like everyone else.
Not going to happen.

She was barely holding onto her control, and she just needed to be alone for a while. Katherine didn’t like for anyone to see her break.

He headed toward the door, then hesitated. “Will you have nightmares?”

Didn’t she always? “I’ll stay quiet.”

Dane looked over his shoulder. “That’s not really an answer, is it?”

“I don’t have nightmares.” She told the lie in a quiet voice. Then, because she had to say it, Katherine told him, “I know what you want.”

His gaze dipped over her. A careful mask concealed his expression. “Do you?”

“You want to use me.”

His gaze returned to her face. A banked heat lit the blue of his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

She swallowed. “To catch Valentine. You’re going to use me.”

“Careful,” he said, approaching her once more. His hand rose and curved under her chin. Her heart slammed into her ribs. This was the wrong time, the wrong place, but she was suddenly, intensely aware of the detective.

Aware of a man in a way that she hadn’t been in a very long time.

Dane’s eyes narrowed. “Your Boston just slipped out. You’d done so well at ditching it.”

Her breath rushed out on a soft sigh. His touch was making her nervous when she already felt as if she were barely holding things together. She stepped away from him.

One brow rose as he noted her retreat.

“Good night, Dane.”

After one last, unreadable stare, Dane backed quietly out of the room. The door shut behind him with a soft click. Katherine thought about locking the door. But she knew that locks weren’t much good in this world. Real monsters knew how to get past most locks.

The monsters that always came for her sure did.

She stripped, put on Dane’s shirt, then climbed into the bed. King-sized, it smelled of him. A slightly woody, masculine scent. The sheets were soft against her, faintly cool.

She closed her eyes.

And saw the dead coming for her.

Dane opened the bedroom door. The hinges squeaked quietly, but the woman lying in the bed didn’t stir. Faint rays of light spilled through the blinds, onto his bed.
Onto her.

Long, slender legs. Legs that seemed to stretch for miles.

Her head was turned toward the door, her thick lashes closed.

He’d stayed awake for a while last night, alert to every rustle from his room. It would only have been normal for her to have nightmares after the little gift she’d received, but Katherine had kept her word. She hadn’t made a sound.

But had she stayed quiet because no nightmares came to her? Or because she knew better than to cry out?

He took a step toward her. The groan of the floor wasn’t so quiet beneath his foot, and her eyelids flew open. He saw the fear
in her gaze, confusion, but then her golden eyes swept around the room. Her breath panted out for a moment, and then she whispered, “It happened.”

If by “it” she meant that her ex had come to town and started killing, then yes, that had happened.

She was wearing his shirt. The faded fabric had never looked so good.

Dane cleared his throat. “Sorry to wake you, but I, um, made some breakfast so I wanted you to eat while it was warm.” As a rule, he
never
made breakfast for anyone. That would be why the eggs were so runny, but he’d tried.

She blinked. “You cooked for me?”

He’d never blushed in his life. A good thing, or his cheeks would have stained right then. “It’s nothing fancy. Just eggs and orange juice. I figured you could use something to help you get going today.”

She still had confusion in her eyes, but the fear had faded away. “Thank you.” Katherine rose from the bed. He cast one more look at her legs—
gorgeous
—then forced himself to turn away from her.

She followed behind him with soft steps. He’d even managed to set the table for her. Her eyes widened when she saw the plates and napkins. Why the huge shock? Hell, he wasn’t that bad of a host.

Okay, he usually was.

But this was different.

He pulled out a chair for her. She eased down into it with a murmur of appreciation. And the lady was even champ enough to eat his runny eggs without complaint.

He sat across from her and wondered where in the hell he should start. He’d handled things the wrong way with her at the
beginning. When she’d first come into the station, he’d been too harsh. He was lucky she hadn’t hauled ass out of town.

And when the marshal found out about last night’s little visit, the guy would be pushing once more for her to leave.

I have to keep her in New Orleans.

Because she was the key to the case. The killer had found her in New Orleans. He’d left the package for her, drawing her into his sick little game.

“You aren’t eating,” Katherine said quietly.

He blinked. Realized that, yeah, he’d just been staring at her. Dane quickly shoveled some eggs into his mouth. They tasted like shit.

How was she eating them?

Then he realized…
she just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.
Huh. Who’d ever cared about that before? He put his fork down. “You can stop,” he said.

Too late. She’d already emptied her plate.

Now she sat back and watched him, her eyes giving no hint of her emotions.

His kitchen table wasn’t exactly a prime interrogation spot, but he didn’t want to question her like a suspect. He just wanted to understand her. “Why do you think he came after you?”

“Because he said that he’d never let me go.”

Cold words. Brittle.

“Valentine said that I fit him. That he needed me.” Her fingers drummed on the table. “He said that without me, he wouldn’t be able to survive.”

“When did he tell you all this?” This bit hadn’t been in the case files that Sean Hobbs had sent to him.

“He told me while I stood in the basement of my home and stared at Stephanie Gilbert’s body. The police were on the way, he had Stephanie’s blood on him, and I thought he was about to kill me.”

Every muscle in Dane’s body locked down. He’d heard the story of her entering her home, finding blood, calling 911…then discovering that her fiancé wasn’t the one who was injured.

By the time the cops had arrived on-scene, Valentine had been gone. Katherine—no,
Katelynn
—had been huddled on the floor of the basement, in shock.

“Did he try to hurt you that day?” He kept his question quiet and calm, choking back his own emotions.

“No, he never hurt me.” Her gaze held his. “That’s the part no one understood, right? He was a sadistic killer, but he never so much as even bruised my skin. I was with him…we were engaged for a year. A whole year.”

And she hadn’t known that a killer was in bed with her.

The doorbell rang then, and Katherine jumped at the pealing sound. “Easy,” Dane said as he rose. He was wearing a loose pair of jogging pants, and he sure hadn’t been expecting company at six a.m.

Because he was a suspicious bastard by nature—and because he was lead on a case that was linked to the biggest serial-killer investigation currently running in the United States—he damn well took time to grab his gun before he headed to the door. But a quick glance through the peephole showed him that a perp didn’t wait on the other side of that door. Mac was there.

Dane opened the door. “What’s happened?” And why hadn’t Mac just called him instead of paying a dawn visit?