Die For Me: A Novel of the Valentine Killer (For Me 1)

He raced down the road with a squeal of his tires. Why was Trent’s car so close to Katherine’s gallery? No damn way it was a coincidence. No f**king way.

He tried to get Katherine on the line. But her phone just rang and rang, then her voice mail picked up. Shit. “Katherine, get to the cops who are watching you. Stay with them. Got it? Stay with them.”

Then he and Mac burned rubber to get to her.

“Good girl. You don’t need to answer that call. It’s no one who matters.”

His arms were still too tight around her. His face was behind her, his lips near her ear as he whispered, “And you don’t need the gun. Trent can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore.”

Her gaze flew back to Trent. He still hadn’t moved. Not at all. “The gun isn’t just for Trent,” she said.

He laughed behind her. “Oh, sweet Kat, you don’t have to worry about me. I’d never hurt you.”

She was supposed to believe a man who spent his nights carving up women? Katherine would love nothing more than to put a bullet in his heart. If he actually had a heart.

“I couldn’t let Trent hurt you. I can’t let anyone hurt you.”

Then she felt the press of his lips against her neck.

Katherine shuddered.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

Fists pounded against the gallery’s front door.

He laughed again. “I locked the door behind you. So we could have a chance to talk. It’s been far too long, Kat.”

“Not long enough.” It was her turn to whisper. Then, because the cops were close enough to hear, she screamed, “It’s Valentine! He’s here!”

The pounding at the door doubled. “Ms. Cole!” She heard the frantic shout from one of the cops.

Shouts weren’t going to help her. Bullets would.

She took a deep breath and knew that this was her chance. Katherine lunged away from him, then spun and fired—

Only the gun just clicked. Again and again.

No bullets came out.

And Valentine had disappeared into the dark shadows of the gallery. His laughter reached out to her. “Oh, Kat, did you think I didn’t know about your weapon? I’ve been watching you.”

She backed away and headed toward Trent. She reached down, trying to find a pulse.

But his skin was ice cold. And sticky.

Nausea rolled in her stomach.

The cops were still outside.

“I’m always watching,” he told her, and he was still whispering. Just a whisper that made goose bumps rise on her arms. This felt like the nightmare she’d had dozens of times. “Remember that, and stay the f**k away from that detective.”

A gunshot blasted.

Katherine screamed. Another blast thundered through the gallery. The cops were trying to shoot their way inside.

They needed to hurry.

Dane slammed on the brakes and jumped from his car. Katherine’s gallery was ten feet away. Two plainclothes cops were in front, and they’d just fired at her window. Even as he leapt from his car, the shattering of the glass filled his ears.

“Fuck me,” Mac muttered.

Dane ran toward the cops. “Circle around!” He looked back at Mac. “Make sure no one gets out the back entrance!” His heart was racing and his palms were sweating as he kept a death grip on his gun.

Katherine hadn’t answered her phone. The cops had radioed and said they’ d heard a scream from inside.

Be alive. He’d planned to use Katherine as bait to lure in Valentine, but he’d never planned for her to get hurt.

He flew through the window, crashing through the glass and heavy curtains—and almost landed on top of Trent Lancaster’s body. The guy was slumped in a chair, and blood covered him.

There was a crash from the back of the gallery. He hauled ass into the back room, with the two plainclothes cops right behind him. He went in low and fast and came up with his weapon raised. “New Orleans PD! Freeze!”

And he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He had his weapon pointed at Katherine. She had her gun pointed right at him.

“Katherine!”

Her eyes looked huge. So stark and afraid.

“Lower your gun,” he ordered her.

“Valentine was here,” she whispered. Slowly, the barrel of her gun angled toward the floor.

Yeah, he’d figured that when he saw the dead body. “Did you see him?”

She glanced over her shoulder. The back door was open.

Mac stood there, frowning. “No one came out this way.”

“He did,” Katherine whispered. “When the cops started firing, he ran out the back.”

Dane motioned to the cops. They immediately ran out to search the area. He wanted to search, too. Wanted to rush out and hunt down the bastard.

But he didn’t want to leave her alone.

“He was waiting for me to find Trent.”

Every muscle in Dane’s body vibrated with tension.

Katherine’s chin jerked up. “Go,” she said. “I’m fine. Just get him.”

That was all Dane needed to hear. He was already running through the back door.

Katherine’s knees sagged, and she hit the floor. He’d been there. He’d been there. And he’d killed again.

Sirens were blaring in the distance. Help was coming. Only the help was too late for Trent. She’d been too late.

Again.

She rose to her feet and forced herself to take one step. Then another. And another. The curtains had been shoved back, and light spilled in through her smashed window. In that too-bright light, she saw Trent’s body. So much blood. His chest had been carved open.

There were roses beside him. A vase—one of the vases that she kept at the gallery but never used because she hadn’t been able to force herself to actually buy flowers—had been shattered near Trent’s feet. Fresh roses, the same color as blood, were strewn over the floor.

I’m always watching.

Her nightmare was never going to end.

She started walking again. She fumbled with the locks on the front door. Why hadn’t she heard him set the locks? Then she was out in that bright sunlight. The gun was in her hand, the stupid, useless gun that should have ended Valentine’s life.

He’d gotten away. She’d been frozen with fear and he’d slipped away.

Get away from the death.

She put one foot in front of the other. Walked.

One foot.

In front of the other.

Do you love me, Kat? The voice from her past whispered through her mind.

She could hear the echo of her own laughter. Of course I do. I’m marrying you, right?