Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me #1)(9)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Trent might think all would be different in the morning, but nothing was going to change for Katherine. She knew she wouldn’t be carrying through with her plans to sleep with him.

She couldn’t. She just didn’t want him, and she couldn’t make herself want him.

The date had ended too soon. When Trent and Katherine had come hurrying out of the restaurant, Dane had tensed.

Then they drove right back to her house. They’d gone fast, maybe too fast, as he carefully tailed behind them.

Hell. He understood what that speed meant.

Why did that piss him off so much?

Dane clenched his jaw. He had no claim on Katherine. If she wanted to screw her shrink, then she could screw him all night long.

The thought burned right though him, but Dane locked his muscles and didn’t move from his now-parked car. He’d found an old dirt road that ran alongside Katherine’s property. A perfect place from which to watch and not be seen.

Katherine got out of the sports car. The shrink followed her. They went up onto the porch. The shrink pulled her close.

Asshole.

The guy put his hands on Katherine’s smooth skin. Curled his palms over her shoulders.

Bastard.

Dane ground his teeth together. You don’t know her. She can have sex with whoever she wants.

And she probably did.

But not that night.

Katherine pushed away from the shrink with a sad shake of her head. While the guy’s hands fisted, she turned away and headed into the house alone.

Dane started breathing again.

The shrink watched her for a moment or two longer. Glared at the closed door.

Keep moving, jerk. Nothing to see here.

The shrink went back to his fancy ride. Cranked the engine. Drove away a little too fast.

Dane smiled.

The lights flashed on inside Katherine’s house. Good. She was in safe for the night. Now maybe the tight tension that coiled his muscles would go away.

That had been awkward, but at least Trent knew where they now stood. It wouldn’t have been fair to lead the guy on, not when she couldn’t make herself feel anything for him.

But then, she hadn’t felt very much in the past few years. Half the time, it seemed as if she were wrapped in some kind of fog, moving slowly through life.

You felt something when you were with the detective. The whisper slid through her mind. Katherine swallowed and turned toward the stairs. Right then, she didn’t want to think too much about the dark and dangerous detective. Instead, she wanted—

She came to an abrupt stop.

There were roses on the stairs.

The breath froze in Katherine’s chest.

Once upon a time, roses had been her favorite flowers. Then she’d learned just what Michael had been doing with the roses. Buying a dozen roses…then leaving one with his victim and bringing the remaining eleven to her.

He brought them to me after each kill.

Her cheeks were wet now. Her hands were shaking.

And there were f**king roses on her stairs. In my house. “No,” Katherine whispered. This could not be happening.

But there was something beside the roses. A small box. It almost looked like a candy box from one of those fancy chocolate shops that she’d seen in the French Quarter a few times. Slender, long…

She was walking toward the box. She should be getting the hell out of there, but it was as if she were being pulled forward, forced toward that box.

I’ll look inside. It will just be chocolate. Trent could have left the candy and the flowers when I wasn’t looking. He dropped them off when he was here earlier and I was getting my purse.

It didn’t have to be from Valentine.

But he always sent me flowers after each death. She just hadn’t realized that fact until it was too late. He’d sent her eleven roses, and his victim—each time his victim had the twelfth rose.

Her breath sawed out of her lungs as her gaze locked on those roses. Helplessly she began to count them.

One, two, three…

The scent of the roses was sickly sweet.

Four, five, six…

There were thorns on the roses. Thorns that would draw blood.

Seven, eight, nine…

Her heart beat so hard that it hurt her chest.

Ten. Eleven. Dear God, only eleven.

The twelfth rose was missing.

She picked up the box. Nearly dropped it because she was so scared and nervous. Then her shaking fingers lifted the lid off the box. Rose petals fell onto the steps. Then she screamed, a long, desperate sound, but one that also burned with rage because the sick bastard was back. He was playing his games with her—with his victims—all over again.

There was no chocolate in the box.

She dropped it. Jumped back.

Katherine whirled and ran for the door. Get away, get away, get away.

Because the nightmare of her past had found her once more.

The front door flew open and Katherine ran down the steps.

Adrenaline shot through Dane’s veins as he jumped from his vehicle. “Katherine!”

She didn’t seem to hear him. She was racing toward her little car, and even though he shouted for her to stop, she just kept going.

She jumped inside the small VW convertible. He saw the headlights flash on.

Dammit.

Dane leapt in front of her car, knowing the headlights would shine right on him. “Katherine, stop!”

The car’s engine revved.

He held up his hands. “Stop.”

The motor died away.

Slowly, Dane crept around the car. “Open the door.” He knew she could hear him.

After the smallest of hesitations, she did.

“What happened?” he asked. She’d said she wouldn’t run, but the woman sure seemed to be hauling ass.

She climbed from the car—and threw her arms around him. Katherine held tight to him, felt right against him, and Dane found himself wrapping his arms around her.

Pulling her even closer.

Her hair brushed against his nose, bringing him more of her scent, and her body pressed perfectly against his.

“Katherine…” He took a breath, almost tasted her. “What’s going on?”

She tilted her head back to stare up at him, and, with the moonlight shining down on them, Dane saw the glint of tears in her lashes. “He gave me his heart,” she said.

The shrink ass**le? Or Valentine? He knew Valentine had been wild for her.

She swallowed. “Not his heart, though, is it? It’s hers. The bastard left it on my stairs.”

Understanding hit him. Fuck. He yanked out his phone. Called instantly for backup even as he kept a strong hold on Katherine. Not getting away from me. “What did you see?” he demanded as he waited for the line to connect. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe—