Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(103)

A quick end. Not nearly as painful as he deserved. “Thanks, man. Appreciate the call.” He hung up the phone, aware that the warden had done him a favor by calling so quickly.

Hyde turned his chair so that he could stare out the window. Myers had taken the easy way out.

Death by cop. Or, this time, by prison guard.

Hyde knew what had happened to the killer.

He’d seen Monica, and he’d snapped. Because the bastard had realized he didn’t have power over her any longer.

No one would mourn for Dennis Myers, but some folks might just throw a party. The story would hit the news soon. He should tell Monica first.

He stared into that darkness just a little longer.

The Romeo Killer.

“Playing the tough guy, Hyde?” That taunting voice had echoed through his mind for so many years.

“She’s mine!”

You didn’t forget evil.

But you could bury it.

His gaze turned back to the desk, to the files that waited for him. So many cases.

A photo stared back up at him, a black-and-white image of a building engulfed in flames.

Some serials liked to touch their prey. They liked to use knives to make the kills intimate. Romeo had always liked to get that close, as close as a lover.

But others… some others wanted to light up the night with their crimes.

Hyde took a deep breath, and he reached for the phone.

One ring. Two. Then Monica’s voice, soft but clear when she said, “Agent Davenport.”

So different from the broken voice that had once haunted his dreams. I-I’m not Katherine.

Hyde cleared his throat. “Monica. I’ve got some news for you.”

The monster was dead. The team was safe.

One more serial down.

His gaze lingered on that deadly fire.

The damn rest of them to go.





Lora Spade isn’t interested in

getting involved with anyone.

But Kenton Lake isn’t the

kind of man who walks

away from something—or

someone—he wants.

________

Please turn this page

for a preview of

Deadly Heat

Available in February 2011.





CHAPTER One


Running into a burning building probably wasn’t the smartest move Kenton Lake had ever made. Then again, sadly, it wasn’t his dumbest, either.

Kenton choked in a deep breath of air, already tasting the smoke, and then lifted his arm over his mouth. Some jobs just sucked. He went into the wall of smoke. Ah, hell.

His nostrils burned and heat scored his flesh but he heard the voice calling—the same voice that had lured him to the building, across the street, and into this inferno.

“H-help! Dammit—h-help me!”

His informer. Upstairs in the middle of the flames and fury.

Kenton yanked off his jacket, covered his mouth, and tried to stay as low to the floor as he could. His eyes burned and the fire and ash singed his nostrils. How the hell had this happened? He was investigating arson but he wasn’t supposed to get drawn into the fire.

Part of the ceiling fell behind him.

Kenton glared up at the long row of stairs. Ten-to-one odds they’d fall away before he got to the top.

“H-help…” Weaker. He took the stairs. One. Two. Three.

And, yep, they gave way just as he reached stair number four. Kenton went down hard. The broken wood bit into his arms and legs, and the fire flew toward him.

A blast of water shot out, slamming into the flames, and someone grabbed him, yanking him up with a hand locked tight around his arm.

Kenton found himself staring right at a firefighter. He caught a smoky glimpse of narrowed eyes behind a clear shield, a thick, black helmet, a dark mask, and brown uniform—

The firefighter shoved him, obviously trying to send him toward the front of the building.

Hell, no.

More firefighters swarmed around him, battling the fire. Some struck out with axes, and some scrambled into the rooms.

Couldn’t they hear the voice calling for help?

He tried to break free and jump for those stairs. There was a gap so he might make it, he might—

The firefighter who’d grabbed him before snatched him right back and gave a hard negative shake of his black helmet.

Screw that, he wasn’t leaving a victim behind.

He wrenched away.

Then the firefighter slugged him. Hard. Right in his jaw. Kenton went down.

The firefighter’s arms wrapped around him. Another grabbed him. Then another.

And they dragged him out of the flames.


“Idiot!”

Kenton looked up, his gaze narrowed against the smoke that still burned his eyes, and saw the firefighter—the jerk who’d slugged him—pull off his helmet and mask—

Her helmet and mask. Not a man there. No way.

Kenton swallowed and choked a bit.

He could make out her eyes better now that there wasn’t a giant cloud of smoke in front of them. Gorgeous, shimmering gold, so clear and deep and—

He lowered his oxygen mask aside and leapt to his feet. “You left a man in there!”

Those golden eyes widened. Very slowly, she lifted her right hand—a fragile-looking hand that had packed a whole lot of punch—and pointed to the left where a fire-truck ladder was being lowered from the building. An older man with stooped shoulders and a soot-stained face was on the ladder. A firefighter had him in a tight grip, and the guy appeared to be coughing up a lung.