Valentine Killer: Die For Me Part 6

"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 s.h.i.+fting 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 s.h.i.+rt, 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 s.h.i.+rt. 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? h.e.l.l, 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 h.e.l.l 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 a.s.s out of town.

And when the marshal found out about last night's little visit, the guy would be pus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+t.

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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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 fiance 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 bas.e.m.e.nt, 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 s.a.d.i.s.tic 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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 d.a.m.n 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?

Mac shoved a newspaper into Dane's chest as he pushed into the condo. "Another d.a.m.n leak, that's what hap-" Mac broke off as his gaze centered on Katherine-Katherine who looked sleep-tousled and s.e.xy and seemed only to be wearing Dane's s.h.i.+rt. 'Cause she pretty much was.

"I-uh...didn't expect that," Mac muttered.

Katherine leapt to her feet. "I didn't have anything else to wear."

Dane slammed the front door shut behind his partner.

Mac was looking at the table. The remains of breakfast. He fired a quick glance at Dane. "You cooked?"

Dane glared at him, but then his gaze dropped to the paper. To the headline that screamed at him: VALENTINE KILLER LEAVES GRISLY GIFT.

s.h.i.+t.

He scanned the article as his heart raced. This was the last thing he wanted. Didn't the press get it? The city didn't need to be in a panic. Panic just made it harder for the cops to do their job.

The reporter hadn't revealed Katherine's ident.i.ty, and he could only hope it was because the reporter didn't know who she really was. But someone had sure gone to the press fast with this big reveal.

Too fast. The captain was gonna be spitting nails.

"The press doesn't know who she is," Mac said as he inclined his head toward Katherine, "but I think it's safe enough to say that our killer certainly does."

She stood behind her chair, her fingers curved over its back. Dane saw her knuckles whiten.

"Is he a copycat?" Mac asked her. "Or the real deal?"

Katherine's eyes widened in surprise. "A copycat?"

"How many people in New Orleans know who you really are?" Mac pressed. "We're gonna need all the names. Maybe someone got close to you because of who you really are. Maybe that person is killing-"

Katherine started to laugh. But the sound was cold and hollow. "What? You think I can only attract killers?"

Dane winced. Mac had never been a smooth one with the ladies.

Then Katherine shook her head. "You two know my ident.i.ty. Ross knows. And my ex-shrink knows." She shrugged. "No one else. When you've got a past like mine, you aren't exactly eager to share it with the world."

Dane folded the newspaper and advanced toward her. "What about the boyfriend? He doesn't know?"

"I didn't want him to know." Her lips pressed together. "When you're dating, you don't always want your significant other to look at you like you're some kind of freak."

He sure wasn't looking at her like that.

"This isn't a copycat," Katherine said. "The cuts on the victim's arms...the roses... only Valentine knew that."

Dane knew his whole body had tensed. "What about the roses?" There had been eleven left at Katherine's house last night.

"Roses were my favorite," she whispered. "Valentine knew that. What I didn't know until after was that he gave me roses when he made a kill."

His heart was beating faster. Another bit of evidence that had never made the news. More confirmation that this was no copycat. It was the real f.u.c.king deal.

"It looked like a dozen..." Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. "When you see a bunch of flowers, how many people actually count to see if twelve are there? I count now, I always do."

Mac swore, obviously realizing, just as Dane did, where this was going.

"Eleven for me. One for his victim. And the roses came in perfect time with his kills." She raked a hand through her tousled hair. "When I found Stephanie that last day-he already had the roses waiting on the table for me."

And roses had been waiting for Katherine last night.

Real. f.u.c.king. Deal.

"I'm...ah...going to get dressed now." She backed out of the kitchen with uncertain steps. "Do you know when I'll be able to go home again?"