Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me #1)(50)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Fear whispered in his words.

“I don’t want to feel that way again. I’m not using you as bait. I’m f**king not using you at all. You’re going with Ross. He’s going to keep you safe until this is over.”

She tried to push up in the bed, and, instantly, Dane was on his feet. Helping her. Supporting her. “I go, and what happens?” She licked her dry lips. “He gets angry and goes after someone else who happened to be in my life? I don’t want any more deaths on me!”

“And I don’t want you dead.”

A rap sounded at the door.

Dane looked up at a uniform who had poked his head in the door.

“The captain’s here,” the cop said. “And some more visitors with him.”

Dane gave a grim nod. Like he could refuse the captain’s entrance.

Then the door was swinging open, and Harley was striding inside. Ben was behind him, with his arm around the shoulders of the pretty blonde—wait, Maggie. Her name was Maggie.

What were they all doing together?

“You gave us all a scare,” Harley said quietly.

“I scared myself,” Katherine managed.

Ben eased away from Maggie and came closer to the bed. He had some tulips in his hand. “Maggie and I wanted to bring these to you. We hope you get out of here soon.”

Ben. He’d helped her at the diner. He’d held her hand in the ambulance.

“Thank you,” Katherine whispered. Her body had tensed at the sight of the flowers. Not roses, no, but she couldn’t look at any flowers without remembering Valentine. Couldn’t enjoy the scent or the sight.

For her, flowers were too tied to Valentine. Maybe one day it would be different but…Katherine couldn’t even bring herself to reach out and take the tulips.

His head inclined toward her. “I wasn’t about to let anything happen to you.” He gave her a small smile. “You can count on me.” Then he carefully put the tulips on the small table near the bed.

Tears threatened to fill her eyes. When she hadn’t been looking, she’d found friends.

“This is my daughter,” Harley said as he glanced toward Maggie. “She called the station, and you can believe we all busted ass getting to you.”

Katherine’s gaze slid to Dane.

“I couldn’t get here fast enough,” he muttered.

“Who gave you the drink?” Harley asked her. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Bits and pieces.” Tiny pieces. “I spilled my first drink, and I think the waitress brought the second one to me.”

Harley exchanged a hard look with Dane. “We’ve got techs searching that whole café, but so far, the only traces of fentanyl or any other drugs we can find were just in your cup.”

“That café was packed,” Maggie whispered. “So many people…”

“And some of them slipped out before we could secure the scene. The cops got as many contacts as they could, and they’re interviewing all those that they were able to hold at the café. We will figure out who drugged you.” Harley was adamant.

“But in the meantime, what?” Katherine asked. She pulled the thin hospital sheets up higher. “Dane wants me to leave, but I am so tired of running. Exhausted.”

Another rap at her door. She looked up, expecting to see the uniform showing Ross inside next. With the marshal, it would be quite the little party.

But Ross wasn’t there. It was the uniform, his face grim. “Flowers,” he said, his voice tight.

Not just any flowers. He was holding roses in his hands.

The monitors started to beep frantically once more.

“Nurse just brought them,” the cop said. “I thought—”

“Captain, stay with her,” Dane snapped as he rushed from the room.

And Katherine realized that Valentine wasn’t ever going to stop his games. Not until she was dead.

Or he was.

“Katherine?” Ben hadn’t moved. Maggie stood by him, looking nervous.

She didn’t blame her.

The sweet scent of the roses made the whole room smell of death. Nausea twisted in Katherine’s stomach. “You should go,” she managed to say to Ben and Maggie. “Please, you need to stay away from me.”

Maggie edged back. As a police captain’s daughter, she would understand just how dangerous the world could be.

Ben’s heavy brows lowered.

But Harley pushed them toward the door, even as he yanked out his cell and started barking orders for others to come to the hospital room.

And the uniform kept standing there, holding the flowers.

Bloodred.

“How many are there?” Katherine asked.

The uniform blinked.

“Count the roses,” Harley snapped at him.

“Eleven, sir.”

Eleven. That meant one was saved, as it always was, for the victim’s hand.

– 15 –

“I want you to pack your bags,” Dane said as he opened the passenger-side door for Katherine. “We’re going into your house, getting what you need, and then getting you the hell out of here.”

The f**king flowers. The bastard had actually been ballsy enough to send them to the hospital. The nurse had told him that a flower delivery boy gave them to her, and the surveillance videos verified it. The videos had verified a f**king ton of rose deliveries. For Valentine’s Day, what else were people going to send? Roses. Every damn place. In nearly every room at that hospital.

After some hard digging, they’d tracked the delivery back to an overworked florist on Chartres. The florist had the order in his books—along with more than two hundred other orders for a dozen roses—but that particular charge had been an Internet order, one that used a stolen credit card. Their techs at the office were trying to follow the IP address for that order, but so far, hell, they had nothing.

And I want Katherine out of here.

“He’s going to follow me,” Katherine said. “He’ll always follow me.”

She was too pale. She’d nearly died. He couldn’t get the image of her still body out of his mind. “He’s making mistakes. Going into the diner, using the florist—we’re so damn close to having him.” His fingers curled over her shoulders. “I just want some time, Katherine. Time when I can focus on the case because I know you’re safe.”

“And I don’t want anyone else dead because of me!”

He pulled her toward the house. A cop was at her door. His orders. He wanted Katherine watched constantly. “It’s not you. It’s that twisted freak of a killer.” How many times did he have to say the words?