Valentine Killer: Die For Me Part 13

Her lips parted in surprise, and her face seemed to pale. "You mean since I was the lover of a serial killer, you expected something else from me?" Then she shoved against him. "I'm not the freak show the papers said I was. I'm not twisted or depraved or-" Her breath heaved out. "I'm just me."

"Dammit, I meant-"

"The night's over," she snapped. "Time to return to reality."

He'd rather return to the night, but Katherine had climbed out of the bed and jerked most of the covers with her.

Since he wasn't the shy sort, Dane slowly rose to his feet. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Katherine's head tilted back. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders. "Then what did you mean?"

"I didn't expect to touch you and go from zero to l.u.s.t in about two seconds."

She blinked.

"I want you." The woman would be pretty blind not to realize that fact, considering the heavy arousal he'd woken with-the arousal that was plain to see right then. "But our timing is pretty screwed at the moment."

Her lips parted.

"If I weren't working the case, I'd be wining and dining you."

"You-" Katherine cleared her throat. "What do you want from me?"

Her trust. He had to have it in order to solve this case. But he couldn't say that. So he stuck with the truth that he could give. "I want everything you can give me." Because one time with her wasn't going to be enough for him. Last night had just been a taste. He was a starving man.

But before he could say anything else, the doorbell rang. h.e.l.l. He glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock. Not quite time for a s.h.i.+ft change, and even if it were, Dane wasn't in the mood to leave. He and Katherine needed to clear the air some more.

But she was grabbing a robe and belting it. "What if they've found something else?"

She ran from the room, and he jerked on his jeans to follow behind her even though he already knew the cops hadn't found anything. He would have gotten a phone call if they had.

He stalked down the stairs after her. Before she could open the door, he caught her arm and pulled her back. Dane looked through the peephole and swore.

"Who?" Katherine demanded. "Who is it?"

He exhaled and raked a hand through his hair. "Your ex is on the doorstep." As far as Dane was concerned, Trent definitely fell into the ex category now.

All the color drained from her face.

Oh, h.e.l.l. Dane grabbed her. "Not Valentine." He had to be more careful. "Trent. The guy you were with the other night."

Her breath heaved out. Then her eyes widened in alarm. "Why is he here?"

Dane was rather curious to find out himself. He yanked open the door as one of the other detectives-he'd kept guards outside the house as lookouts-stepped in front of Trent to firmly push the guy back. "You can let him go, James," Dane said.

Karen James glanced back and gave a quick nod.

Trent rushed forward. "What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" he demanded as his gaze flew to Katherine. "Why are there cops on your doorstep?"

"I-"

"She had a break-in," Dane explained. Hey, it was the truth. "The uniforms are just here as a precaution."

"Some precaution." But Trent was shouldering past Dane and reaching out to pull Katherine against him. "I was so worried about you when I saw the police car. I was afraid something had happened."

Dane's eyes narrowed. The shrink had about two more seconds to clutch Katherine, then he'd yank the guy back. One, tw- Katherine pushed Trent away. "What are you doing here?"

Trent shook his head and finally seemed to realize that Katherine wasn't completely dressed.

His gaze snapped to Dane.

Dane lifted his brows. Yep, I'm not completely dressed either.

"Katherine." Her name was a snarl now.

Dane didn't like that tone a bit.

"Who is he?" Trent demanded as he jerked his head toward Dane.

"That's Detective Dane Black. He's...working on the break-in."

"Doesn't look like that's all he's working on," Trent huffed out.

Katherine stepped away from him. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

Dane rather enjoyed the anger in her voice.

Trent sniffed. Sniffed? What a p.r.i.c.k. And the guy's brows flew up. "I wanted to come by and talk to you. I wanted you to reconsider-"

"Trent." She sighed, shaking her head. "I told you, things are over for us. You're a great guy. But I couldn't give you what you needed."

"Could you give it to him?"

The low words had Dane's body stiffening. He took a fast step forward.

But before he could do anything else, Katherine lifted her hand, halting him. "We weren't exclusive, and as of our last conversation-right there on the porch-we were no longer dating at all." Her words were quiet and calm, but a faint pink had started to tint the tops of her high cheekbones. "I'm sorry if I misled you in any way-that wasn't my intention-but I'm not the right woman for you. I'm-"

"Damaged," Trent threw out. "I know that, okay? Evelyn warned me about you." He turned away and began pacing.

Damaged? The word echoed in Dane's head. Dane moved quickly, putting himself in Trent's path. "You need to get out of here," Dane told the guy, trying to hold back his fury.

Trent's head jerked up, and he almost slammed right into Dane. "What?"

"She's not damaged." Dane hated that word. Hated the pain that he'd seen flare in Katherine's eyes. "And she's not your concern." He waved toward the doorway. "Now get your a.s.s out."

Trent's jaw dropped. His gaze swung to Katherine. "Kat?"

"She hates being called Kat," Dane said, never taking his glare off the man's face. "You should know that by now."

The wooden floor creaked beneath Katherine's feet. "Good-bye, Trent."

The guy stared blankly at her.

"The door." Dane prompted.

Anger hardened Trent's face, but the doctor spun around and marched for the door. Dane didn't speak until the dumb-a.s.s was good and gone. Then he turned to Katherine.

"You were sleeping with that guy?"

"No." She headed for the stairs. "Actually, you're the first man I've slept with in three years."

It was his turn to stare after her, with his jaw hanging like Trent's had been.

Her hand tightened on the banister. "I've got some trust issues. You know, because I'm damaged."

He rushed after her, curled his hands around her shoulders, and made her look back at him. "You aren't damaged."

Her smile was sad. "You don't even know me, and if you did...you just might be afraid of me."

Then she pulled away, headed up the stairs, and shut her bedroom door behind her.

He didn't follow this time. He was too busy wondering about the haunted look he'd seen in her eyes.

Trent Lancaster marched into his office, rage burning through him.

Katherine had been half-dressed, with that smirking p.r.i.c.k of a police detective at her side.

"Trent?" His partner, Evelyn Knight, entered his office, frowning. "What's wrong?"

He whirled to face her. He wanted to tell her that he needed to be alone, but he stopped when he noticed the stark concern on her face.

Good old Evelyn. He and Evelyn had first met back in their college days at Emory. They'd even dated back then, for a time, but soon enough he'd realized that they were better friends than lovers.

Evelyn had tried to warn him about Katherine. When he'd first begun to notice Katherine, Evelyn had said to stay away.

But Katherine's legs were killer. And her eyes...they always made him think of s.e.x.

Then she'd stopped seeing Evelyn. There'd been no reason why he couldn't go after what he wanted.

He wasn't a man ruled by emotion so much as by basic needs. Katherine had certainly stirred up those basic impulses.

But then she'd gone and screwed the cop instead. Dammit.

"What's happened?" Evelyn glanced around the office. "What's going on?"

He sighed. "Nothing." He straightened his shoulders. He always had control at the office. He had control everywhere. "Katherine and I-we decided to end things."

Evelyn's gray eyes widened; then she nodded quickly. "That was the best decision you could make, Trent. That woman...she won't be ready for any sort of lasting commitment for a long time."

He hadn't exactly been in the mood for forever. In the mood for some good f.u.c.ks? Yes.

"I shouldn't have told you as much as I did." Her rounded jaw hardened a bit. "You shouldn't have dated her."

"Yes, well, I didn't date her until you stopped treating her." So no conflict of interest. He'd been careful. He always covered his a.s.s. The last thing he wanted was a lawsuit. After his divorce, he couldn't handle another cash-flow problem.

He'd almost lost the practice in that divorce. What had he expected? His ex was a divorce attorney. She'd known exactly how to hang him out to dry.

Thanks for taking everything, sweetheart.

Good thing Evelyn had been there to help him out financially. She was always there to help.

"Katherine still needs treatment. So much..." Evelyn exhaled. "But we can't help those who don't want to be helped, right?"

That was Evelyn's mantra.

He turned away and headed for his desk. His first patient would be in at ten o'clock. He'd focus, get through the day, then go find some s.e.xy, dark-haired woman at a club. He'd screw her, pretend she was Katherine, and all would be right in his world.

Or mostly right.

He frowned. There was a white box in the middle of his desk, right next to a vase full of fresh roses. He hated flowers of any sort. Just because Valentine's Day was drawing near, it didn't mean he had to have d.a.m.n roses in his office. Vendors were hawking the roses on every street corner of the city.

I don't want them in here.

Trent would have to make sure the receptionist knew not to put any more in his office. "When did this arrive?" he asked as he stared down at the package.

Evelyn was almost at the door. She looked over her shoulder. "When did what arrive?"

He held up the box. Shrugging, Evelyn said, "Maybe one of the secretaries brought it in." She left the room with her usual no-nonsense stride.

Trent studied the package as the scent of the roses filled his nose. The white box wasn't from their usual delivery service. There was no writing on it-it almost looked like one of the boxes from the bakery on the corner. Maybe it was a pastry delivery. One of the receptionists could be trying to get on his good side.

He slid his finger under the box's tab and lifted up the top. The box slid in his hand as he eased into his seat, and rose petals spilled onto the surface of his desk. "What the h.e.l.l...?" Trent began.

Then he saw the photographs, and he couldn't speak at all.

His fingers began to tremble. The first photograph was a close-up of a woman's chest. There was so much blood. Someone had driven a knife into her heart. His own heart was racing so hard that it seemed close to bursting from his chest. His body felt ice cold as he stared at that horrible photo.

The second photo showed the woman's full body. The slices on her arms. The ropes that circled her ankles and wrists. The duct tape over her mouth.

Her eyes were closed, her hair tangled around her face.

A face he knew too well.

A face he'd once loved.

A face Trent had thought he desperately hated.

Amy. His ex-wife.