Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(93)

No f*cking way.

With his left hand, Vance pulled out his cuffs, that stupid grin still on his face. Luke clenched his teeth. The taste of blood filled his mouth. Kill him.

“Let’s give you a good show. Real up close…” He snapped a cuff around her left wrist. A tear leaked from Monica’s eye as she stared at Luke. She didn’t struggle against Vance. Just stood still and silent. “So close you’ll feel the blood on your skin.” The other cuff snapped around the leg of the table, the one closest to Luke’s head.

She’ll see me die.

He’d f*cked this up. She’d told him to be on guard, but he hadn’t been ready. He’d let this bastard take him down, and now Monica would pay.

I won’t scream. Not in front of her. She didn’t need the sound of his screams in her head. She had enough of those.

“Close your eyes,” he told her. Because he didn’t care what she’d seen before. She wouldn’t see this. “Just close your eyes.”

But she shook her head.

Beautiful Monica. The woman he’d always wanted. The only one he’d loved.

The one who’d see him die tonight.

? ? ?

Hyde’s foot slammed the accelerator into the floorboard. Sheriff Davis sat beside him, riding shotgun in his own patrol car.

The pine trees swirled past him, and time seemed to disappear.

Sixteen years ago, he’d been driving down another dirt road. One surrounded by swaying pines.

A cabin had waited for him, with death inside.

Monica had survived once. She’d do it again.

He’d brought her out of the ashes, watched her nearly crumble over her mother’s grave. He’d been by her side through the years, and he’d stood back as she grew stronger.

A miracle.

He’d gotten one before. He’d get one again.

His fingers curled around the radio. He brought the receiver up to his lips. “Go in with sirens silent. We don’t want to give this bastard any notice, you got me?”

Because if he heard them coming, Luke and Monica would be dead before they ever opened the doors of the cruisers. Out in these damn boondocks, it would be hard to keep quiet.

But the killer would be focused on other things.

“Copy that.”

He’d taught her how to fight. She’d survive.

“Can’t this piece of shit go faster?” he bit out. Red dirt flew in the air around the cruiser.

Hold on. Stay alive.


“I’m sorry.” Luke’s lips moved silently.

Monica shook her head. He didn’t have anything to be sorry for. This was on her.

Deputy Vance Monroe was good at killing. Probably because he’d been at his craft for so long.

Since he was eleven years old.

“I love you,” Luke told her. His eyes locked on her, and they showed no fear. Sweat beaded his face, and blood soaked his arms and chest, but fear didn’t lurk in his green gaze. Not so much as a shadow.

He knew the game, too.

Way to tell Vance to piss off.

“Where do I want to start first?” Vance walked around the table. A surgical tray was on the far right side, out of Monica’s reach. Vance waved his gun toward her. “Why don’t you pick a spot for me? Something delicate, that will hurt like a bitch.”

Monica glared back at him. Enough. Her turn. “How old were you?”

He blinked.

“How old were you, Kyle, when you made your first kill?”

His lips stretched. Not a smile. Not even close. “Figured that one out, did you?” He shook his head. “Guess we both like to play with names, don’t we, Mary Jane?”

Luke’s arms tensed, and she knew he was trying to escape the straps. But they were too tight. He wouldn’t be able to get free on his own.

“I’m guessing you were the officer who supposedly told the sheriff’s department in Gatlin that Kyle West died in that car accident?”

“Finally figured that one, did you?” A sharp bark of laughter.

“Who really died in that car accident?” She pulled a bit on her handcuff, testing the table. No give. “Vance Monroe?”

One shoulder lifted in a slow shrug. “It was really too f*cking easy. I saw him in a bar. He looked like me. My size, my hair, my age.” A shrug. “So I thought—why the hell not? And I got myself a fresh start.”

And another man had died. But so what, right? In Kyle’s mind, it hadn’t mattered a bit. “You were the officer who went to see May, weren’t you? You were the one sent to tell her about the car accident.”

“She was off her meds. Always going off. I had darker hair, a broken nose, and a shiny uniform. When I lowered my voice, she didn’t even recognize me.”

“But the people in the sheriff’s office would have recognized you, that’s why you didn’t tell Martin.” The guy had been good. He’d done the visit to the family that would have been required, but covered his tracks well enough that he’d slipped through the cracks in the system.

A bark of laughter. “Maybe he would have. Maybe not. That prick can’t find his own ass most days.” His voice hardened. “You know that jerkoff thinks he can change the world. He thinks he can take a killer, get him to bare his soul, and then—wham—turn him into a model f*cking citizen.”