Valentine Killer: Die For Me Part 18

They'd better d.a.m.n well be close. "Send the cops in now!" Dane barked. "I want them standing by Katherine's side until I get there."

He raced down the road with a squeal of his tires. Why was Trent's car so close to Katherine's gallery? No d.a.m.n way it was a coincidence. No f.u.c.king way.

He tried to get Katherine on the line. But her phone just rang and rang, then her voice mail picked up. s.h.i.+t. "Katherine, get to the cops who are watching you. Stay with them. Got it? Stay with them."

Then he and Mac burned rubber to get to her.

"Good girl. You don't need to answer that call. It's no one who matters."

His arms were still too tight around her. His face was behind her, his lips near her ear as he whispered, "And you don't need the gun. Trent can't hurt you or anyone else anymore."

Her gaze flew back to Trent. He still hadn't moved. Not at all. "The gun isn't just for Trent," she said.

He laughed behind her. "Oh, sweet Kat, you don't have to worry about me. I'd never hurt you."

She was supposed to believe a man who spent his nights carving up women? Katherine would love nothing more than to put a bullet in his heart. If he actually had a heart.

"I couldn't let Trent hurt you. I can't let anyone hurt you."

Then she felt the press of his lips against her neck.

Katherine shuddered.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you."

Fists pounded against the gallery's front door.

He laughed again. "I locked the door behind you. So we could have a chance to talk. It's been far too long, Kat."

"Not long enough." It was her turn to whisper. Then, because the cops were close enough to hear, she screamed, "It's Valentine! He's here!"

The pounding at the door doubled. "Ms. Cole!" She heard the frantic shout from one of the cops.

Shouts weren't going to help her. Bullets would.

She took a deep breath and knew that this was her chance. Katherine lunged away from him, then spun and fired- Only the gun just clicked. Again and again.

No bullets came out.

And Valentine had disappeared into the dark shadows of the gallery. His laughter reached out to her. "Oh, Kat, did you think I didn't know about your weapon? I've been watching you."

She backed away and headed toward Trent. She reached down, trying to find a pulse.

But his skin was ice cold. And sticky.

Nausea rolled in her stomach.

The cops were still outside.

"I'm always watching," he told her, and he was still whispering. Just a whisper that made goose b.u.mps rise on her arms. This felt like the nightmare she'd had dozens of times. "Remember that, and stay the f.u.c.k away from that detective."

A gunshot blasted.

Katherine screamed. Another blast thundered through the gallery. The cops were trying to shoot their way inside.

They needed to hurry.

Dane slammed on the brakes and jumped from his car. Katherine's gallery was ten feet away. Two plainclothes cops were in front, and they'd just fired at her window. Even as he leapt from his car, the shattering of the gla.s.s filled his ears.

"f.u.c.k me," Mac muttered.

Dane ran toward the cops. "Circle around!" He looked back at Mac. "Make sure no one gets out the back entrance!" His heart was racing and his palms were sweating as he kept a death grip on his gun.

Katherine hadn't answered her phone. The cops had radioed and said they' d heard a scream from inside.

Be alive. He'd planned to use Katherine as bait to lure in Valentine, but he'd never planned for her to get hurt.

He flew through the window, cras.h.i.+ng through the gla.s.s and heavy curtains-and almost landed on top of Trent Lancaster's body. The guy was slumped in a chair, and blood covered him.

There was a crash from the back of the gallery. He hauled a.s.s into the back room, with the two plainclothes cops right behind him. He went in low and fast and came up with his weapon raised. "New Orleans PD! Freeze!"

And he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He had his weapon pointed at Katherine. She had her gun pointed right at him.

"Katherine!"

Her eyes looked huge. So stark and afraid.

"Lower your gun," he ordered her.

"Valentine was here," she whispered. Slowly, the barrel of her gun angled toward the floor.

Yeah, he'd figured that when he saw the dead body. "Did you see him?"

She glanced over her shoulder. The back door was open.

Mac stood there, frowning. "No one came out this way."

"He did," Katherine whispered. "When the cops started firing, he ran out the back."

Dane motioned to the cops. They immediately ran out to search the area. He wanted to search, too. Wanted to rush out and hunt down the b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

But he didn't want to leave her alone.

"He was waiting for me to find Trent."

Every muscle in Dane's body vibrated with tension.

Katherine's chin jerked up. "Go," she said. "I'm fine. Just get him."

That was all Dane needed to hear. He was already running through the back door.

Katherine's knees sagged, and she hit the floor. He'd been there. He'd been there. And he'd killed again.

Sirens were blaring in the distance. Help was coming. Only the help was too late for Trent. She'd been too late.

Again.

She rose to her feet and forced herself to take one step. Then another. And another. The curtains had been shoved back, and light spilled in through her smashed window. In that too-bright light, she saw Trent's body. So much blood. His chest had been carved open.

There were roses beside him. A vase-one of the vases that she kept at the gallery but never used because she hadn't been able to force herself to actually buy flowers-had been shattered near Trent's feet. Fresh roses, the same color as blood, were strewn over the floor.

I'm always watching.

Her nightmare was never going to end.

She started walking again. She fumbled with the locks on the front door. Why hadn't she heard him set the locks? Then she was out in that bright sunlight. The gun was in her hand, the stupid, useless gun that should have ended Valentine's life.

He'd gotten away. She'd been frozen with fear and he'd slipped away.

Get away from the death.

She put one foot in front of the other. Walked.

One foot.

In front of the other.

Do you love me, Kat? The voice from her past whispered through her mind.

She could hear the echo of her own laughter. Of course I do. I'm marrying you, right?

She'd been so confident. So certain.

One foot.

In front of the other.

You love all of me, right?

He'd been teasing her, or so she'd thought.

The good and the bad? You'll stay with me, for better or worse?

She'd kissed him. That's what I get to promise in the vows.

One foot.

In front of- "Katherine?"

Her chin snapped up. It was Joe's voice. She was in front of Joe's Cafe. Joe and Ben were both there, both rus.h.i.+ng toward her, then freezing when they saw her gun. They shouldn't be scared. There were no bullets in her gun. Valentine had taken them away.

Like he'd taken everything away from her.

"Katherine, what's happened?" Joe demanded.

I'm in shock. She realized it because she'd been this way before. She could hear the scream of police sirens getting closer now. Because she'd walked two blocks toward them? She didn't remember walking that far.

Ben reached for her arm. She flinched and her confession slipped out: "I don't like to be touched." Except by Dane. She didn't mind his touch.

He nodded and his hand opened. "Give me the gun," he said.

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her weapon. "He's...he's coming to hurt me."

Ben stared into her eyes. Behind the lenses of his gla.s.ses, his brown gaze was deep. Worried. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Easy to say. He didn't know her. Neither did Joe. And Joe was coming up on her left. Looking just as worried as Ben.

"Katherine!" The roar of her name didn't make her flinch. She heard the thunder of footsteps rus.h.i.+ng toward her.

Then she realized Ben and Joe weren't the only ones there. A small crowd had formed. Fearful folks gazed at her and her weapon.

A hard hand closed around her shoulder. "It's all right!" Dane's thundering voice carried easily. "I'm a police officer. The situation is under control."

He was lying. Nothing was under control.

Katherine turned into Dane's arms. He took the gun. Led her away.

And even though Joe called her name, she didn't look back. She was too afraid of the horror that she'd see on his face.

Katherine sat at Dane's desk, her shoulders hunched forward, with a cup of coffee-the bad s.h.i.+t that most of the cops avoided-cradled in her hands. She hadn't spoken much, or actually at all, since he'd brought her in to the station.

Dane and Mac had searched her gallery. The PD had hunted for blocks, roping off the area, but there had been no sign of Valentine. The guy's face-an image provided by the Boston PD-was being flashed on every TV in New Orleans. But the man had vanished.

"Did you actually see Valentine?" The quiet question came from Marcus. The profiler had shuffled up beside Dane.

Katherine didn't stir at the man's question. She hadn't stirred at anything.

Dane inclined his head to the nearby uniform. "Keep an eye on her," he ordered.

The sandy-haired man immediately stepped toward her.

Dane hauled the profiler into the nearest empty interrogation room. "What the h.e.l.l are you implying?" Dane demanded as soon as the door shut behind them. "No, dammit, I didn't see Valentine. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was there, he dumped the body, he terrorized her, then he got the h.e.l.l out before the cops could get to him." Valentine was good at getting away. Too good.

Marcus swallowed quickly. "I just meant we only have Katherine's word-"

"She's in shock. Did you see her? Did you actually look at the woman? She's barely holding it together." Because she'd been alone with her worst nightmare. Trapped. And that knowledge p.i.s.sed him off. He should have been with her. He'd said he would protect her.