Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me #1)(8)
Author: Cynthia Eden

A fighter.

Good. She’d need to be.

He’d wondered just what kind of woman Valentine had lost his heart to. Now he knew.

And Dane realized that he’d been right about Katherine all along. She could be a very dangerous woman indeed.

Dane returned to Katherine’s house that night and watched her from the shadows. Now that he knew her relationship to Valentine and with one woman already in the morgue, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her unguarded.

There was just something about Katherine Cole…

She was working her way right under his skin.

Was this the way it had been for Valentine? The question whispered through his mind. Had Valentine met her and not been able to get her out of his head?

She’s in my head.

If he weren’t careful, the situation could be deadly.

Headlights lit the area as another car approached. The vehicle slowed and then braked at the end of Katherine’s drive. Dane tensed, then saw a guy in a three-piece suit hurry out of his fancy sports car.

He ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t expected Katherine to have a date, but it looked like the lady had planned a night out on the town. For some reason, the sight of the jerk in that overpriced suit pissed him off. Katherine, dressed in a form-fitting black dress that hugged her body like a sweet glove, smiled at the bozo when she opened the front door and even let the guy kiss her cheek.

Bastard.

Dane wrote down the bastard’s tag number and called it in while he trailed them to a high-end restaurant. In less than five minutes, he knew that Katherine’s date was Dr. Trent Lancaster, a local shrink.

Jeez, a shrink? He’d never liked the head case doctors. They analyzed everything to death.

The guy’s hands were a little too clingy as he led Katherine toward the restaurant. And Dane realized he was gripping his steering wheel a little too tightly.

Just a case. Just a case. Breathing deeply, he forced his hands to relax. Then he pulled out his phone and called Mac. One ring. Two. The shrink and Katherine disappeared into the restaurant.

Mac answered on the third ring. Dane could tell by the background noise that his partner was still at the station. Perfect.

“Run a check for me,” Dane said without bothering to identify himself. “Find out every bit of intel you can on Dr. Trent Lancaster.” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, and he kept his eyes on the restaurant’s entrance.

One of Katherine’s lovers had been a killer.

Was another?

This wasn’t working. Katherine forced herself to smile at Trent. He was talking about an article he’d written, something about behavioral regression, and she wanted to just drop her head and bang it on the table. Hard. Over and over.

Not working.

Had she really thought she might be able to sleep with Trent? That tonight would be the date that finally took their relationship to the next level?

Her body was so amped up that she felt as if every muscle trembled, and her eyes couldn’t seem to stop searching the room.

Someone’s watching me. The tension in her belly told her that.

“I was thinking that we could rent a cottage at the beach for a few days,” Trent said, his voice with that smooth, perfect tone that no doubt lulled many of his patients. “It would give us a chance to get to know each other even better.”

Can’t, Trent. The instant denial sprang to her lips, but she managed to bite it back. My serial-killer ex might be in town.

She also choked back the slightly hysterical laughter that rose within her.

“Uh, Kat?”

She flinched. “Katherine. Not Kat, remember?” Because whenever someone called her Kat, she heard Valentine’s voice in her head.

Trent blinked.

Great. Now she was being a bitch to her date. Trent didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She forced a wan smile. “I’m sorry, Trent, but I’m just not feeling well tonight.” She should have canceled the date.

His handsome face immediately crinkled with concern even as he inched back from her. The instinctive response of a guy who was preparing for something he didn’t want to hear. Then he cleared his throat and asked, “What can I do?”

She rubbed her throbbing temples. “I think I need to go home.” Too many people were there. Watching. So many eyes had been on her after the Valentine case exploded.

So many people, judging her.

As she sat there, Katherine still felt like she was being judged. “Please,” she whispered. “I want to go home.”

“Of course.” He reached for her hand, and she had to fight the instinct to recoil. His touch felt cold, clammy.

What would Trent do if he knew who she really was? Would his eyes look so caring? Or would he start to study her with that clinical detachment she’d seen in the eyes of his partner, Evelyn Knight? She’d gone to Evelyn to get help. To try to stop the nightmares and the paranoia. Someone’s watching…

But from the very first, Evelyn had made her feel tense. Her questions had been designed to rip right through Katherine’s skin.

I’ve already been filleted enough, thank you.

“Trent…” She reached for her bag but kept her eyes on him. This needed to be said. His grip was making her tense, and his eyes…they were looking for too much as he stared at her. “I don’t think it’s going to work between us.”

His lips tightened a bit. “But we seem so compatible.”

Compatible.

She knew Trent was used to women falling at his feet. He was handsome. Smart. Charming. The perfect gentleman. Pity she wasn’t the perfect lady for him.

When he touched her, she didn’t feel anything. She hadn’t realized that was really a problem. For three years, she’d existed in that void, not truly feeling anything.

Then Dane Black had touched her. He’d been full of anger. Determination. Humming with wild energy.

And she’d wanted him. For the first time in three years, she’d actually felt something other than fear at a man’s touch.

She’d thought Trent might be able to make her feel something tonight.

No dice. And he deserved better than to be strung along by her. “You’re a wonderful guy, Trent, but trust me on this, I’m not the right girl for you.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “You’re just not feeling well,” he said dismissively as he rose to his feet and signaled the waiter. “We’ll talk about this after you’re back to your old self.”

“I’m sorry, Trent.” She rose as well, and a few moments later, they were leaving the restaurant.