Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(44)

Gerry came back and put a sheet over the body. Finally.

Monica’s shoulders had relaxed a bit, but a faint furrow lined her forehead. He could feel the energy rolling off her.

A bullet wound hadn’t slowed her down. But then, he’d never known anything to slow down Monica. She was tough, fierce, and even in the midst of a nightmare, sexy.

He was so screwed. Luke sighed and glanced at the deputy. “Gonna keep the cookies down?” Luke asked the guy.

Vance managed a nod.

“Good.”

“What happened after the sheriff told Jason Jones to stop?” Monica’s quiet voice. Not threatening or demanding in the least. Smooth and easy.

Ah, she’d changed her style. Probably because good old Vance was close to a breakdown.

“I-I told you, I w-wasn’t there, I’d just started workin’ in Mobile back then—”

He saw her jaw clench. “I realize you weren’t there, Vance. But what did you hear?”

“I—he—Jason pulled a weapon and fired on Davis.” He licked his lips.

Luke looked up and saw the sheriff stalking toward them. Moving at a pretty fast clip.

“Sheriff Davis fired back,” Vance’s words came faster, too. Probably because he’d just seen the sheriff closing in on them. “So did two deputies. They took him down—”

“Right in the street,” Monica finished.

Like father, like son. One hell of a coincidence.

“F-felt bad when I heard.” Vance rubbed his hand over his face. “Shame, ya know? Watchin’ your old man go out like that.”

In a hail of gunshots and blood.

“Watching?” Monica leaned in close. Blood had appeared on her white bandage. Shit. She needed to get that checked again. She probably needed stitches.

“Jeremy was there.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “His ma died when he was a baby. His dad—he took care of him. That night, word was that he ran after his old man—”

And watched him die.

“Vance!” Davis thundered. “Why the hell are you sitting on your ass? We got a perimeter to secure. Move, man, move!”

Vance scrambled.

“I spoke to the mayor,” Davis said, giving a hard nod. “We’re holding a press conference at 7 a.m. tomorrow.”

Attendants loaded Jeremy’s body onto a gurney. Zipped him up and rolled him away.

So much blood was left behind.

Not an easy death. But he’d chosen to go out like that. Chosen the bullet.

By his own hand.

“We’re closing this case.” Fierce voice. Blazing eyes. The sheriff’s voice thundered with an authority Luke hadn’t heard before. “Jones is the killer, and that’s what I’m saying on the news. Jasper is a safe town. I won’t have folks worrying anymore.”

With that, he spun around and strode away.

“I think they do need to worry, Sheriff.” Monica’s voice came, quiet but clear, and stopped the guy in his tracks. “Actually, I think they should worry one hell of a lot.”

The sheriff had frozen, but he didn’t glance back at her. “My town is safe now,” he said again, and Luke wondered if he was trying to convince Monica of that fact—or himself.

Then an EMT raced up to her, muttering about the blood dripping on her arm. And the sheriff kept walking.

“Sheriff—” Monica called.

Luke stepped in front of her. “Stitch her up,” he ordered, shoving his hands into his pockets. The better not to touch. Hold.

Not now. Because that message was plain in her eyes.

Her rules. Her game. Not for much longer.


Monica could hear the ticking of the bedside clock, counting off the seconds. So slowly and way too loud.

No, not too loud. The room was just too quiet.

Monica grabbed the clock. Yanked the batteries out and threw the damn thing across the floor. Her hands were shaking, her entire body trembling.

Fury rode her. It tightened her gut and pounded through her head. She jumped out of the bed. Can’t stay there. Pressing her palms against her eyes, she began to pace. Fast, desperate strides.

F-f*ck… you.

Her hands dropped. A dead man’s voice, playing like a broken record in her head.

And even when she closed her eyes, she could see him.

His eyes—angry and afraid.

F-f*ck… him.

Had he been afraid of her? Of Luke? Or of something more?

M-my… way. His way, all right. A shot to the head.

“Dammit,” she whispered. “Just… dammit.”

“Monica!” She froze. A fist pounded on the connecting door, hard enough to shake the wood. “Open the door—or it’s coming down!”

Her heart thudded in her chest. Luke. Oh, Christ but she needed him, needed him so much she’d intended to stay away. Because she knew that the moment she was alone with him, she’d break. Shatter.

Covered in a dead man’s blood.

That was how she’d left the crime scene. She’d stayed in the shower for an hour, let the hot water scald her skin, but she still didn’t feel clean.

“Open. The. Door!” Another hard thud with his fist.

I need him.

Too much. One touch, and the need, the hunger, would be too strong. In the past, she’d always had control with her lovers. Even with him.