Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(70)

He pressed his mouth to hers.

As soon as his lips touched hers, a wildfire of lust seemed to explode between them.

The heat was always there for him, simmering just beneath the surface. No woman had ever made him want the way she did. Her body slid closer to his. Her lips parted, and her tongue thrust against his.

He’d seen too much death in his days and nights as a marshal. When he was with Lauren, she made him think of life. Passion. Hope. Every damn thing he’d ever wanted.

Right then, what he wanted most was her. His cock stretched, thrusting toward her. In his mind, she was already naked. They were on the big desk. He was in her.

His heart was a drumbeat pounding in his ears. Her scent seduced him, her body tempted him, and her tongue, her lips—they made him so hard.

The kiss stopped being gentle. It became rougher. Wilder. Her taste was all he knew. All he craved.

But someone was f*cking knocking at the door again.

Growling, he pulled away from her and spun to face the door.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He glanced back at her. Lauren’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining, her lips red and full from the press of his own.

“It’s my assistant again, trying to get me out so I can talk to the press.”

He sucked in a deep breath. Tried to calm the fury within him.

“The briefing won’t take long, then I’ll be done here for the day.” She slid her tongue over her lower lip, as if still tasting him, and his back teeth ground together as his cock ached for her. “Will you still be here then?”

Still be here? “We’ve covered this.” He said it slowly. Deliberately. “We aren’t done.”

He didn’t know that they ever would be.

Lauren gave a small nod. “I was told I could go back to my house today.” Her fingers brushed over the edge of her desk. “But I can’t do it. I can’t stay there. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to go back, knowing what happened to Karen there.”

“You can stay with me.” As if he’d want her anywhere else.

“In the hotel?”

Tonight, he’d do something different. He’d gotten a call the new location was finally ready. With Walker dead, it would be the perfect time for the move. “Trust me.”

She smoothed back her hair. Straightened her clothes. “I always have, Tony.”

He was surprised by the truth he heard in her voice.

Lauren headed for the door. Sure enough, Bridgette’s nervous face was waiting when the door opened. Jim was there, too, with a few uniforms scattered behind him.

Time for the big press briefing. Time to say the Bayou Butcher would never kill again.

He was too busy already roasting in hell.



“Jon Walker, the man once dubbed the Bayou Butcher by the press in Baton Rouge, was killed today.” Lauren’s words were flat and cold as she stared from the television set.

He watched her, rage twisting through him. This wasn’t the way things should have ended for Jon.

This wasn’t the way things would end for him.

“Walker was tracked by a task force consisting of local Baton Rouge PD, U.S. marshals, and FBI agents. Working together, this team hunted Walker, and a few hours ago, U.S. Marshal Anthony Ross fatally shot Walker.”

The TV flashed a rotating headline beneath Lauren’s somber picture: Bayou Butcher Killed by U.S. Marshal.

“My sympathies go out to all of the families who lost loved ones as a result of Walker’s actions…”

Fuck them. Fuck her. She was standing up there, all but gloating, and the marshal was right behind her. He was always right behind her. From the instant that bastard had come into town, he’d been sniffing at her.

She’d fallen right back into the guy’s bed. He knew because he’d been watching them very closely.

She was still talking about the families. About the pain they’d felt. About how it was time for healing.

Blah. Fucking blah.

He glared at her. It felt as if someone had shoved a knife into his chest and cut out his heart. Something was gone, missing, and he didn’t know what the hell to do.

Jon had been with him for so long. Someone who understood the darkness. Someone who knew what it was like to want the blood and the screams.

Jon had been there for the first kill. They’d stalked their prey together. Planned every moment. Every single detail. Getting caught hadn’t been an option.

His Jenny had been so perfect. His first.

You never forgot your first.

He could still smell the blood. The death.

Jon had vomited after she was dead. The guy had been so shaken. Shaken, but he’d still understood the power they had. The power of life and death. Total control.

Jenny. Perfect Jennifer Chandler. The girl all the boys wanted. And all of the girls, they’d wanted to be her. She was the best one. Why would he have ever settled for anything less than the best?

If Jenny hadn’t tried to break up with him back then, he might not have realized just how powerful he truly was. But she’d wanted to leave him.

You’ll never leave me now.

He’d made sure that Jenny, his sweet Jenny, stayed with him forever.

Just as Jon should have stayed with him—forever. But Lauren had screwed that up for him. The bitch.

Even when Jon had been in prison, the link had still been there. He’d known Jon would be free sooner or later. Jon would be free, and he’d come back to him. They could continue, finish what they’d started.