I’d gone to Graeme’s with Beck. Had he done this? Kidnapped me.
A low screech from nearby as a door opened triggered me.Tires.
Jesus fucking Christ. The tires had exploded, and the Bugatti rolled.
Beck! Where the fuck was Beck?
Footsteps drew my attention, and I worked my wrists harder, ignoring the pain—at this stage it felt like I was completely rubbing my skin off, but if it got me free.
Because the lights were in my eyes, I couldn’t see anything except shadows. “Y-you’re making a h-huge mistake,” I stuttered, trying my best to death glare the shadow cloaked figure in front of me. I’d been so focused on my restraints that I hadn’t noticed my chattering teeth or the freezing cold seeping into my bones. Where the hell was I? Siberia? “Delta w-won’t take this lying down, and y-you know it. They’ll f-find m-me and then you’ll p-pay.”
“They won’t find you before I’m done,” the man replied, and I was shocked that itwasn’tGraeme’s voice. I was so sure he was responsible ... then again, he wouldn’t have been getting his hands dirty with this sort of shit. It was probably some paid muscle he’d hired to intimidate me.
He shifted into the light and showed me his face.
“You!” I sucked in a startled gasp, recognizing the man in front of me. But finding myself even more confused than ever. “You work for Huntley? I don’t get it. Were you at the police station to plant evidence or something?”
The good looking, dark skinned man—James? Johnson!—smiled a disturbingly charming smile at me, shaking his head like I was a damn moron.
“Quite the opposite, MissDeboise. I was there to destroy evidence. Couldn’t have everyone screaming serial killer too soon, now could I? That would have ruined all my carefully laid plans.” He tilted his head to the side as he said this, like he was fascinated by what my reaction would be.
Thankfully, I’d been working really freaking hard on my Delta-face. While internally I was shaking and screaming, I kept my face blank and empty. If this fucker got off on seeing his victims afraid, he was shit out of luck with me.
So far.
“The rose,” I spat. “The one from Katelyn’s body. You got rid of it before the evidence was processed, so they wouldn’t link the crime to Cordelia June’s.”
Johnson nodded, smug as a cat in cream. “Yep, took a photo for her parents of course, and my own records, but then I ditched the rose. Didn’t want to tip you off too early.” He changed topics in a flash. “I could have killed you that night, you know? I wasthisclose.” He held up his thumb and forefinger about a quarter inch apart, and I noticed he was wearing black leather gloves. In his other hand, a twelve-inch hunting knife gleamed as it caught the light. Of course he wore gloves. This guy was proving to be even more skilled than my guys and all their Delta training.
“So why didn’t you?” I asked. I had zero clue how I’d save myself from this situation which only seemed to be getting worse. Maybe if I could juststay alivethen Beck…
That idea broke off as fast as it came, and I swallowed back a cry of anguish. Where was Beck? Had he survived the crash?
Regardless. Dylan, Evan and Jasper were still out there, and they’d become suspicious if we didn’t get home soon. Surely, they would find me. Us.
“Your constant bodyguard made things more complicated,” Johnson admitted. “None of my other ... the other girls didn’t have a boyfriend to work around. When I heard him saying he was moving in permanently, I saw my window closing and escalated things.”
I licked my lips and tasted blood. “So you object to killing men? I’m sure there’s some psychology there.”
Johnson gave me a sly grin, like I was being funny. “It doesn’t get my rocks off, if that’s what you’re implying but no, I have no issues killing anyone that gets in my way. Except Beck...” He trailed off with a shrug, and I knew what he meant.
“Except you don’t know that you’d win against Beck,” I finished for him. “You know he’s better than you.”
Johnson—surprisingly—nodded. “He is. Or he would be, any other day of the week. Since he metyou, though, well he’s all kinds of distracted. If he hadn’t been too busy with his face buried between your legs, I never would have gotten close enough to deliver even the first bouquet.”
“So you tampered with his car. Too scared to take him on yourself, huh?” I was well aware that it wasn’t smart to taunt the killer with a knife, but I was pissed right the fuck off and it slipped through the cracks.
Johnson laughed. “Actually, that wasn’t me. I just took advantage of the opportunity it presented.” He casually placed the tip of his blade against my throat, then dragged it down my chest until he reached the neckline of my dress. He hadn’t pressed hard enough to cut, but I flinched nonetheless, then mentally kicked myself at the flare of excitement in his face.
“What do you mean?” I demanded, trying to keep him talking and not slicing me up. “You didn’t fuck with our car?”
“Nope,” he replied, angling the blade to the dead center of my chest and adjusting his grip. “If I was a betting man, I’d say Huntley saw a prime opportunity to open two extra seats on the Delta board. Wasn’t there some draconian rule about needing an heir to hold their position?” He said it like he didn’t care, but he’d clearly done his research.
Before I could reply, his hand tightened on the knife, his arm flexing.
My tenuous hold over my fear slipped, and I let out an involuntary scream before realizing he hadn’t stabbed me. He’d just sliced through the front of the navy dress I’d worn to dinner, leaving it open down to my waist and showing off the sexy lace bra I’d put on for Beck.
“Fear is such a pretty thing, don’t you think?” he purred, using his other gloved hand to stroke the pulse in my throat which must have been visibly pounding. My breath was coming in short, panicked gasps and it took every ounce of my willpower to force it slower and not give Johnson the satisfaction of my terror.
