Scream For Me: A Novel of the Night Hunter (For Me #3)(39)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Cadence rose above him. Straddled him with the legs that blew his mind. She’d ditched her pants. When? She still had on her shirt. No panties, though, because he felt warm, wet flesh press against him.

He parted her folds. Pushed two fingers into her and enjoyed the flush covering her cheeks.

When they were in bed, it wasn’t about being agents.

It was about—

She’s mine.

“I’m clean.” His voice was a snarling rumble he should have hated. Hadn’t he sworn he’d give her seduction this time? Gentleness? “No diseases, nothing.” He wanted to thrust into her, to feel that hot flesh all around him. “Are you—”

“I’m protected.” Her breath panted. “No diseases.”

He’d never gone bare. With her, it was all he could think about.

Staring into her eyes, unable to look away, he thrust into her.

So tight.

He knew he couldn’t last. Not in that sensual heat that was driving him mad. His hands locked on her hips. Holding her too tightly, go easier, be careful.

He couldn’t stop.

He lifted her, brought her back down. Thrust in and out. She was rising on the bed in perfect tune with him. A frantic rhythm that couldn’t stop. Faster. Harder. Deeper.

The bed was thudding into the wall. Release was seconds away.

Cadence had to come first. He needed to feel—

“Kyle!”

Her delicate inner muscles clenched around him. Pleasure flashed across her face. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

When his release hit him, he knew he’d been wrong. The first time with her had been good. The second had made him an addict. No one else would ever do.

No one else was Cadence.

He’d made a mistake.

He stared down at the small house, the place sheltering Christa.

A sheriff’s car waited out front. A man in uniform had been stationed at her door.

There was probably another deputy inside.

Mistake. He’d realized it as dawn came calling.

The agents hadn’t noticed him at the bar, but Christa had seen his face. He’d visited her too many times. She knows me.

The agents would have questioned her. They would have asked who she’d talked with that night. Who showed her too much attention.

She would have remembered him. His stupid f**king good tips. He’d given her the tips so she’d feel more comfortable with him. So she’d talk more. Tell him about herself.

He’d learned about Christa.

But in turn, she’d learned about him. Christa knew what he looked like.

The agents would want Christa to work with a sketch artist. He knew the drill. Christa would tell them all she knew.

In a few hours, his picture would be on every television in the Southeast.

He’d worked too hard to lose everything.

“I’m sorry.” Christa wouldn’t hear those words. She’d never have a chance to hear them. Things shouldn’t have ended this way for her. He would’ve taken care of her. Enjoyed her.

Savored sweet Christa.

But she had to die. Now.

Before the agents came back for her. Before the sketch artist arrived.

Before everything was destroyed.

The door to her house opened. A man in a sheriff’s uniform came outside. He talked to the deputy.

They hurried down the steps, moving toward the waiting patrol car.

This was it.

Another vehicle pulled up. Sweat trickled down his back. He knew that vehicle. Agent McKenzie was already on the scene. There was no more time to waste.

McKenzie was there.

So was Cadence.

His breath whispered out. He didn’t like doing this. It was wrong.

Christa appeared in the doorway. Her shoulders were hunched. Through the scope on his rifle, he realized she was pale.

Christa hadn’t slept well.

Lovely Christa.

This wasn’t the way it should have been.

His finger pulled back the trigger as the sheriff turned and reached for her.

Then he fired.

Blood bloomed on the sheriff’s chest, a thick circle even as the crack of gunfire echoed around them.

Shot.

Christa screamed and lunged toward the sheriff.

“No!” Cadence yelled.

But it was too late.

Christa was trying to help, but she should have run the other way. Gone back inside. Been safe.

The second shot hit Christa. So did the third.

Cadence could hear Kyle yelling, swearing. His gun was out and he was trying to get to Christa. But Cadence was closer. She’d been just a few feet from the sheriff.

Cadence dove for the other woman. She curled her body around Christa’s and tried to pull her to safety.

Then she saw the wounds.

One hit had been to Christa’s head. A shot that had torn across the right side of Christa’s skull. The second shot had gone in her chest.

“Christa, stay with me.” The same words she’d given to Lily, but Christa’s wounds…

She won’t make it. Cadence knew there would be no saving her.

Christa’s eyes were already closed.

She was already gone.

Cadence heard the thunder of footsteps. She looked up. Kyle was running toward the line of trees on the northwest side. Running without backup.

The sheriff started to wheeze.

“Go after him!” she yelled to the deputy. The guy, fresh faced, ghost white, clutched his gun and nodded.

But he didn’t move.

“Agent McKenzie needs backup!” She eased Christa onto the ground and crawled to the sheriff’s side. Oh, Christ, what a mess. “Go after Agent McKenzie!”

She yanked out her phone and called for backup. Then she put her hands on the sheriff’s chest. Sheriff Henry Coolidge, aged fifty-two. A grandfather of four. His newest grandbaby had been born just three days before. He’d shown her a picture of the little girl last night.

She’d run a check on him, as she did all the folks she brought in on the investigation.

“Henry.” His name whispered from her.

His lips moved. He was trying to talk. Choking.

She knew what the wheezing sound meant. His lungs were filling with blood. If she didn’t work fast, he was dead.

The deputy’s footsteps thundered away.

Finally going to give Kyle the backup he needed.

While Cadence got to work trying to save the man before her.

Kyle raced through the trees, his heart pounding in his ears. The SOB was there. He’d come out into those woods, and he’d eliminated Christa.

She saw your face. She knew you.

Fuck, but he hadn’t thought the guy would shoot her. The profile indicated the perp was an up-close, intimate killer.