Fear For Me (For Me #2)(19)

“I can’t go back home.” Her words broke a bit but she rallied quickly. “It’s not clear yet. And with Karen’s blood…with her dying in my bedroom…” Her breath rushed out. “I’m not going there.”

Hell, no, she wasn’t. The detective was a dumbass to even suggest she return that night.

A muscle flexed in Voyt’s jaw. “You can stay with me.”

Anthony’s whole body tightened. Not happening, Voyt. Not. Happening.

“You know I have the guest room,” Voyt added as he took another step toward her. The guy needed to learn how to respect personal space. Staring into her eyes, Voyt said, “Stay at my place tonight.”

She f*cking wasn’t.

Anthony’s gaze slid between them. He didn’t like the look he saw in Voyt’s eyes. Not one bit. The detective needed to back off and back up.

Since the guy wasn’t moving, Anthony stepped between them. “She’s coming with me,” Anthony said, his words snapping out with a fierce force.

Voyt blinked. Even Hamilton edged back.

“She is?” Voyt sounded confused.

What was so confusing?

Anthony gritted out, “I need her to give me access to Walker’s friends and family.” Those still in the area. Most had fled, hoping to shed the image of being the killer’s kin. For those still there, Lauren knew them. She’d been the one to interview them years before. If they were going to talk, it would be to her. “I need her,” he said again as he locked stares with the detective. He wanted to make sure Voyt got the message—what he was saying and what he wasn’t.

But Voyt was proving to be oblivious. “Lauren needs a place to crash.” The guy wasn’t backing down. He did step to the side, though, just so he could look around Anthony and tell Lauren, “When you’re done helping the marshal, come to me, Lauren.”

Anthony’s back teeth were about to grind down to dust. She won’t be coming to you. Whatever was going on between Lauren and this dick detective, it would be ending.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Anthony growled, and then he was turning away from the cop and pulling Lauren with him. They rushed through the nearly deserted courthouse and burst outside into the thick, hot night air.

Jim had stayed back at the swamp, to work more with the trackers. Matt had gone to the precinct to run down more leads.

And Anthony…he’d run to Lauren.

As soon as he’d learned there was a threat at the courthouse, he’d been desperate to get to her. So desperate that he’d dropped everything else.

She was f*cking with his head already, and he’d only been in town for a few hours.

It was edging close to eight p.m. The Butcher had always killed at night. It had been just over forty-eight hours since the guy’s escape. Forty-eight hours. That timeline was cutting through Anthony.

It had taken the warden far too long to notice Walker’s absence and to contact Anthony’s office. Then, by the time he’d gotten to the prison—hell, Walker had already been given a huge edge.

Anthony opened the passenger-side door of his rented SUV. Lauren swept by him, her body brushing against his. Memories swept through him at her touch, but he shoved them back.

He had a job to do. A job he would do.

Anthony climbed into the driver’s seat. His hands tightened around the wheel. “Most of Walker’s family left the city.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught her nod.

“The guy wasn’t exactly social, so there’s not a trail of friends in the area.”

Not a trail, no, but there’d been one person in particular who had always stood by Walker during the trial. His girlfriend. “Stacy Crawford is still here,” she said, turning in the seat to glance at him.

He nodded. His own intel had already told him that Walker’s girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—was in town, and he knew exactly where she would be.

“Let’s go have a little chat with her.” That chat would take them on a visit to another of Walker’s favorite spots in the area, a rundown bar called Easy Street.

He pulled away from the curb. The interior of the SUV seemed too small. Maybe it was because Lauren was so close. Close enough to touch.

“Stacy wasn’t exactly the most cooperative witness five years ago,” Lauren murmured.

Her voice was cool, low. She could have been talking to a stranger.

Not to the man who’d once f*cked her every way he could imagine—and even thought of some new ways. She was that damn good.

“She believed Walker was innocent,” Lauren continued. “Stacy wanted to help him, not lock him up.”

He pushed down on the accelerator. “Let’s go see if she’s still trying to help him.” Help him escape prison.

Maybe help him kill.

Anthony was growing more and more convinced Walker wasn’t acting alone. Not this time.





*


Easy Street was far from the hustle and bustle of Baton Rouge. The bar was near the swamp, nestled on a rough patch of land. Despite its off-the-beaten-path location, the small club boasted a packed parking lot, one full of trucks, motorcycles, and a few tricked-out cars. Music blared from inside the club, seeming to reverberate from the slanting roof that covered the place.

Anthony was beside Lauren, his hand light on her arm. He kept getting too close to her. Touching her far too often. His touch made her nervous, and with Walker out there, she was already nervous enough.