Fear For Me (For Me #2)(63)

“We don’t know anything for certain about Pierce right now,” Lauren said, trying to keep her voice reassuring. “I got away. Even if Walker has him—”

“We were broken after I cheated. Going through the motions. Hurting each other, but never letting go.” Julia’s lips pressed together into a thin line. It took her a few moments to say, “Maybe we should have let go.”

“Julia.” Lauren injected command in her voice.

Julia looked up at her.

“He isn’t dead yet. You’ve got to keep hope going, okay?”

“I haven’t had hope in a very long time.”

Lauren glanced over at Anthony. His gaze was so watchful as it weighed Julia.

“The reporters…” Julia whispered. “They’re going to find out, aren’t they?”

“Don’t worry about them.” Lauren had already scheduled a press conference to talk about Walker. She could handle any questions the reporters had about Pierce, too. “I’ll talk to them. I can—” She broke off as an idea formed in her mind. “Maybe we can even use them.”

A big maybe. A tricky gamble, but what did they have to lose? “The abduction is still new.” She faced Anthony. “We know the spot Walker took him from. We’ve got the general area. If we get the word out now, maybe someone will see Walker or even Hamilton. Maybe we can get a witness to help save the judge.”

Julia’s nails bit into Lauren’s arm. Lauren glanced at her. Tears streaked down Julia’s cheeks. “We truly loved each other once.”

“He isn’t dead yet,” Lauren told her again. Please God, maybe he wouldn’t be. She yanked out her phone and called the lead reporter for Channel Six. She had Caroline Kramer on her speed dial. The woman answered on the second ring.

“We’re moving up the press conference,” Lauren told her. “I’ve got a story I want you to cover now.”

Taking a judge in daylight when so many people were out and about was a ballsy move—one that just might prove to be a fatal mistake for Walker.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




“I’ve got money!” the judge said, his face ashen, “I can pay you anything you want!”

“I already took the big bag of cash you had in the back of your car.” Walker grinned at the jerk. That much cash would sure come in handy, once he’d finished his business in Baton Rouge. He’d disappear with the money, start fresh. “I figure I don’t need a whole lot more.”

The judge strained against his bonds.

Walker’s smile faded. The judge was a big guy, a couple of inches taller than Walker, and the man had about fifty pounds on him. Hamilton might even be able to get out of the bonds if he struggled hard enough.

Walker glanced toward the door. His partner should have been here by now. He’d waited, only using the knife on the guy a little bit.

His skin isn’t like a woman’s. It doesn’t tear like silk. It’s too rough. Ugly.

It was time to kill the judge. Time to shut him up and watch him die.

“Let me go, and I can give you anything.”

He liked it when the guy begged, though. Power rushed through him with every plea. Once upon a time, this rich fool had been the one with the power. Sitting up on that fancy bench, wearing a big, black robe. Slamming down his gavel.

Sending me to rot.

His fingers tightened around the knife. He wanted to shove the blade deep into Hamilton’s chest. But he could use the guy first. Get some information from him. “Tell me what you know about Lauren.”

“The DA?”

Who the f*ck else would it be?

“She’s not staying at her house.” Which made hunting her so much harder. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know—”

Wrong answer. He shoved the knife into Hamilton’s shoulder. Blood spurted as he twisted the blade. Not the same. The blade didn’t cut right on the man. In a woman, it would have sliced deep, and the pulse of pleasure from the slice would have traveled all the way through him.

The normal pleasure didn’t come. He twisted the knife again, jerking it hard to the left. “You’re a f*cking judge! You should know where the DA is!”

“Probably with the marshal. He’s sticking to her every minute.” Hamilton’s breath panted out as sweat beaded his upper lip. “That’s—ahh, stop, please!”

“Tell me something useful, and I will.”

“I—I think they’re sleeping together…”

How was that useful?

“Saw the w-way he looked at her—stop, please!”

“I don’t give a shit who she screws.” It was just about the kill. About payback. Punishment. She’d taken so many years from him. She should have been dead long ago.

He’d gotten out of Angola. Started his own path. This time, he wasn’t going to stand in anyone’s f*cking shadow. It was his game. His rules.

That was why he’d left her a note.

It’s beginning.

He wanted her to understand. It was all about him. About his power. His control.

The Bayou Butcher’s run in Baton Rouge wouldn’t end, not until Lauren Chandler’s blood soaked his skin, and she drew her last breath.