Keep Me Safe (Slow Burn #1)(68)

When he popped up, he smiled at his adversary’s startled expression. He didn’t give the victim a chance to react. The glass folded inward, the bullet creating a hole in the spiderwebbed surface. Blood and brain matter splattered the opposing window.

Pleased with his initial success, he hurried toward the well-lit house and his next victim.

Who needed to see through Ramie St. Claire’s eyes anyway? This was much more satisfying. He was salivating over Caleb Devereaux’s reaction when Caleb realized he was the tool used in Ramie’s destruction. Such pleasure was almost unbearable.

He slid around the side of the house, gun up and ready to shoot. One never knew the unpredictability of others. It paid to be on constant guard.

When he stole a quick peek around the corner of the house, he saw his target standing guard by the back door. Charles nearly giggled but caught himself in time, remonstrating himself for the near careless slipup.

No reason to be stealthy. Dead men couldn’t stand in your way. He swung around the corner, arm raised, left hand supporting the stock of the pistol. His aim was highly accurate, never off target by more than a centimeter. The guard crumpled without a sound, dead before he ever hit the ground.

Charles stepped over the fallen body, eased the door open and slipped inside. From what information he’d been able to glean from Caleb Devereaux he knew the sole remaining guard was in the hallway just outside Ramie’s door.

He could hardly contain his glee. Better not to celebrate prematurely. There would be plenty of time to celebrate later. With Ramie!

Charles knew that when he rounded the corner into the hall he’d only have a tenth of a second to find his target and shoot or risk discovery. He was so close to his ultimate goal that his hand shook, bobbing the gun up and down.

Angrily, he tempered his reaction, forcing himself to take deep steadying breaths. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and then did a mental one . . . ​two . . . ​three!

He swiveled, planting his foot and turning rapidly into the hallway. His current aim was off by six inches. Adjusting upward in that flash of time he squeezed the trigger. The bullet smacked the guard right in the middle of the forehead and dropped him like a stone.

Yes!

It was all he could do not to rush into the bedroom, put a bullet into Devereaux’s head and be done with it. But that would ruin everything. Charles had meticulously planned this down to the nth degree. The other night inside Caleb’s head was a mere test run, one that he’d been delighted with the results of.

He fumbled, with shaking hands, for the cell phone in his pocket. He had to set up quickly if he was going to get it all on video. Wouldn’t Caleb be shocked when he watched this footage? He smiled and then closed his eyes to summon Devereaux.

Caleb sat up in bed, the comforter and sheet falling down to his lap. There were whispers in his mind, demanding he act. He slowly rose, walking to the doorway in measured steps. Quiet! You don’t want to wake Ramie.

He entered the kitchen and opened a drawer before shutting it again. Then he went to the next and this time he reached into the open drawer, his fingers curling around the handle of a wickedly sharp carving knife.

How appropriate to have a carving knife when he planned to carve Ramie up like a Christmas turkey. She would be the best Christmas and birthday present all rolled into one that he’d ever had.

Gripping the handle of the knife with a firm hand, he retraced his steps to the bedroom and quietly pushed the door open, slipping inside where Ramie still soundly slept. For a long moment he stood over her next to the bed drinking in the sight of the woman he’d hunted the last eighteen months.

A smile curved Caleb’s lips. “There’s no one here to hear you scream,” he whispered.

Still, he clamped one hand over her mouth, put the blade against the soft skin of her abdomen and sliced from one side to the other, angling slightly downward to follow the curve of her belly.

She let out a muffled shriek against his hand and he quickly straddled her writhing body. She bucked upward, trying to unseat him, but he followed her back down and then slid the blade in a vertical line between her br**sts.

Blood rose and dripped down her body in rivulets. She was wild beneath him, clearly hysterical and not yet comprehending who was doing this to her. The anticipation of her discovery was so keen that Charles was practically bubbling over.

And then her gaze locked with his and horror contorted her features. He let his hand slip from her mouth because it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He nearly clapped his hands together in the corner but if he did so it would mess up the video he was recording. And he wanted Devereaux to see every single cut he put on her body.

“Caleb!” she screamed. “Caleb, stop! Oh God, what are you doing?”

Two more cuts in quick succession. Her eyes went glassy with shock, her speech slurred from that same shock and blood loss. She tried to fight back, but she was no match for Caleb’s strength. Oddly she would have had a chance against Charles. Caleb was much bigger and stronger. Experiencing a kill vicariously through another’s eyes was deliciously addictive. It was something that now that he’d done once he’d want to do it again and again.

Tears streamed down Ramie’s face. Her voice was nearly gone from the force of her screams. The next came out in an ugly hoarse rasp when he made another cut, this time on her hip.

“Please don’t do this,” Ramie begged, her chest heaving from her pants of pain. “I thought you loved me,” she whispered. “You promised . . .” Her voice trailed off and her bowed body sagged back onto the mattress. She finally passed out. She’d earned a measure of respect from Charles. Not many people would have been able to stay conscious for as long as she had under such horrific conditions.