Deadly Heat (Deadly #2)(82)

Not like it was a smell you could easily forget. “Mr. Dumont, when you came into the alley, did you see anyone else?”

“I–I just saw the fire, man.” Dumont took a long drag on his cigarette. “Somebody else could have been there—f*ck if I know—I just saw the fire.” That cigarette was burning down fast.

“When the victim was in the store,” Kenton pressed, “was he alone? Did you see anyone with him?”

Dumont gave a hard shake of his head. “Nah, nah, he was alone.” The cigarette dangled from his nicotine-stained fingertips. “If—if that’s him, in the alley, something was wrong with him.” His eyes skated to the alley, then back to the agents.

“Wrong?”

Dumont nodded. “Yeah, uh, he kept talkin’ to himself. Callin’ for some broad named Cathy.”

Kenton exhaled. “Did he say anything else?”

“Just—just that he wanted to go home.” Ash dropped to the ground. “He said he was goin’ home to Cathy.”

Kenton glanced back at the alley. It looked as if Kyle was home now. And God willing, maybe he was even with his Cathy.

“What kind of freak would do this shit?” Dumont’s lips twisted in disgust. “That poor bastard.”

Kenton nodded curtly and turned away from the witness. That “poor bastard” hadn’t deserved to go out that way. He pulled out his phone and called Sam. She answered on the second ring, and he could hear the voices rising behind her at the police station. “Sam, any sign of Malone?”

“No.” Her sigh rustled over the line. “The cops are patrolling for him but—”

“But maybe they’re not looking hard enough.” His fingers tightened on the phone. Malone was one of their own, and sometimes, cops didn’t like to think a brother in blue could be a criminal.

If the cops couldn’t find him, Kenton would. And if he had to, he’d rip apart the town.





CHAPTER Sixteen


Monica Davenport kept her shoulders back and her pace slow and steady as she walked toward the hotel off Highway 180.

If there was anything she’d learned in her life, it was that you could never be too careful. Someone was always watching. Always.

Her hand was rock steady as she slid the keycard into the lock. The light flashed green. She walked inside. Dark. Just the faintest hint of sunlight fell through the blinds.

The bathroom door opened and spilled light into the room. Wisps of steam drifted into the air, and he was there. Chest wet, muscles gleaming, a white towel knotted around his waist.

When he saw her, he tensed and his eyes narrowed. “Monica? What happened?”

She dropped her bag and kicked the door closed. Shaking her head, Monica went to him. She didn’t give a damn about her clothes getting wet when she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. She just needed him. “We found Bob Kyle.” So Luke wasn’t officially working the case. He still knew every detail. Luke had made a point of knowing every detail.

His arms closed around her. “How bad?”

She took a quick breath. “One of the worst I’ve seen.” Holding it together, staring at that body, guiding the crime techs—so hard. She’d just wanted to turn away. To close her eyes and pretend that she didn’t see him.

She was in the FBI to stop shit like that. Seeing it made her gut clenched. “He was sick. He didn’t deserve… hell, he couldn’t even tell us what Phoenix looked like.” Kyle had needed help.

He’d gotten—no, she didn’t want to think about what he’d gotten.

Luke’s fingers came up under her chin, and he gently tipped back her head. “How did Phoenix get to him?”

She licked her lips. “He—Kyle ran from the safe house.” Because the demons had driven him out. Going back on the meds, the new environment, the cops around him—it had been too much for him. He’d broken. She’d worried he would. Just hours before, she’d been talking to his VA doc in an attempt to get more help for Bob. “I think Phoenix must have been watching. He followed him.” Phoenix found the perfect deserted spot, and he cut Bob’s throat so the guy couldn’t scream. Then Phoenix torched him.

How long had it taken Kyle to die?

Please not too long.

“The guy didn’t even fit his pattern.” Her gaze held his. “Kyle hadn’t broken any laws. Hadn’t hurt anyone.”

No, he hadn’t.

“His crime was being in the wrong place.” Hardly something worth dying for. Her lips trembled, a tremble she’d never allow outside, in front of the others.

She was the cold one. Ice. The Bitch.

She could take the cases, take on the killers, and not flinch.

On the outside.

But with Luke, here, just the two of them, she didn’t have to pretend. He was the only one to see past the mask.

He’d always seen.

Monica rose onto her toes and caught the back of his head with her hands. She kissed him, hard and deep, as she crushed her mouth to his.

His hands tightened on her. His body pressed against her. Every solid, strong inch reminded her that he was there. Real.

And she wasn’t alone with the monsters anymore.

But the stench of death was on her, and she didn’t want it coming between them.