“Ya think?”
“Mmm.” She kissed his cheek, then nibbled at his earlobe. “I don’t think, Sheriff, I know.”
He laughed, a deep, throaty laugh, and it felt good to let go, if just for a few minutes. Soon, they would have to face the world again, but for a few more minutes…He turned his face to hers and began kissing her again. This time, he silentl
y vowed as he felt her respond to him, he’d take it slow. Real slow.
“Slut!” He watched the vulgar display on his screen, compliments of a hidden camera he’d wired into her house, the electronics hidden deep in the insulation of the attic or wired alongside the ducts in the ceiling and floor vents. Everything she did, he witnessed as long as the equipment worked. As soon as he’d learned that she was moving into the old McReedy place, he’d set about wiring it for his special purposes, but some of the tiny cameras had failed and often he’d been forced to stand outside and stare down at her compound from his blind in the trees. Which he enjoyed. Especially with the snow caressing his skin.
But tonight, with the snow so heavy, he was forced inside to watch via monitor and as he did, he felt nausea attack. He was hot, itching from the inside out. Furious, he kicked a paint can and sent it reeling, red color splashing upon the walls. He barely noticed.
She was with another man.
Kissing.
Touching.
Fucking like a bitch in heat.
His pulse pounded, throbbed through his brain, and he felt betrayal of the worst kind as he viewed her getting off on another man. Pathetic. Couldn’t she have waited? Didn’t she know that only he could satisfy her? His shrine to her was nearly complete, and this was how she repaid him, by acting like a common tramp, spreading her legs eagerly for the sheriff.
Shane Carter, a man who had vowed to uphold the law, and there he was, stripping off her clothes, running his tongue and teeth over her skin, nipping at her breast. Pushing his cock deep inside her. And she let him.
His Jenna.
She let him!
Rage burned through him and he plotted out all kinds of satisfying revenge, but he could not abandon his plan. Not now. Precision was the key.
He watched them fornicate and his rage grew hot as the night. He glanced over at the stage where most of the women were already positioned. How long had he worked for this? For years. Long before anyone would guess, and then the news about her move, he’d heard it long before she’d actually arrived in Falls Crossing. From the moment he’d heard a whisper of a rumor about her moving to this part of Oregon, he’d prepared, used the windfall of insurance money to buy this place and prepare it. He’d been lucky in that respect; the stars had aligned. Because it was fate. They were meant to be together. There were no coincidences. His life was meant to be entwined with hers, and everything he did was for Jenna.
Always for Jenna.
From the first time he’d met her face-to-face, he’d known. He’d prepared.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced at his stage. His shrine to her and her work.
Everything was set.
All the characters dressed and in position, painted faces near-perfect replicas of Jenna—Marnie Sylvane, Faye Tyler, Paris Knowlton, and Zoey Trammel, all ready except for the last two. They were waiting for Katrina Petrova and Anne Parks. Jenna Hughes’s most famous starring roles. He’d considered creating Rebecca Lange, but as White Out had never been finished, he’d discarded the idea.
He relaxed. He was still in control. He would just have to make a minor adjustment, push things up a bit. But he was ready. Clicking off the monitor, he walked to his bathroom and began to dress. First the contacts, to tint the color of his eyes, then the hairpiece to add a new hairline and change his natural color, and finally a tight bodysuit to alter his physique and lifts in his shoes to add two inches. He was careful how he shaved.
When he was finished, he took a good, hard look in the mirror.
Even his mother wouldn’t recognize him.
He smiled at that, then remembered caps. Slipped them on.
No, his mother would never recognize him.
Which was just as well.
His purpose in mind, he reached for his jacket.
It was time to hunt.
CHAPTER 41