Bitten by Cupid(66)

Her instincts told her someone was watching her. So did the churn of her stomach and the prickle of ice across her skin. She turned, knowing she was giving away her fear. People walked by, minding their business as usual. One was rarely alone in the city, but just then she felt very alone.

Adrian came to mind. Big, muscular Adrian.

“Who might be the killer.”

She doubted that, but she wasn’t sure why she doubted it. Maybe because she didn’t want him to be, which wasn’t a good reason. She breathed a sigh of relief when she walked into the apartment she shared with another woman, who, thankfully, worked nights. She closed her eyes and breathed in the silence for a moment.

Between Kristy’s travel and Berta’s work schedule and boyfriend, the two rarely saw each other. What Kristy wanted was a place of her own, and with a regular and lucrative assignment, she could swing that.

“If you don’t mess it up by getting involved with your potential boss.”

She dropped down on the couch but sprang up a minute later. No way could she relax. She got onto her laptop and pulled up Dale’s articles on Kiss and Kill Cupid. She read in horrifying detail about the murdered women. Cupid had strangled the last one while her boyfriend slept right next to her. Fear mounted inside Kristy with each gory detail. The killer was cunning and bold and, as the article quoted the police as saying, escalating. He never raped his victims, but there was evidence he tortured them sexually. He strangled them and left his creepy message across their bodies.

She shuddered.

The articles where Dale had interviewed the families were heart-wrenching. She knew how devastated her friend’s family had been, how torn up they all were. Tears sprang to her eyes as she stared at the photo lineup of the victims, all women in their early-to-mid twenties like her, smiling, living their lives without a care.

“Well, I’m not letting you get me, you sick son of a bitch. But how am I going to stop you from continuing to wreck people’s lives?”

She hadn’t been able to take note of all the men in the coffee shop when she’d heard the thoughts. Damn timing. She had three days to figure out who Kiss and Kill Cupid was.

The face that sprang to mind was Owen’s, speaking of creepy. Didn’t serial killers have flat eyes? Little emotion? Owen was a viable suspect. Her only suspect. What made it tricky was that he was Adrian’s best friend.

Or maybe that would help. Who knew Owen better than Adrian? First, she was going to find out everything she could about serial killers. Then she was going to come up with some sample articles to take to the magazine’s offices the next day. She would try to hear Owen’s thoughts without all the noise. Then she would pick Adrian’s brain on Owen’s past, his behavior.

She read article after grueling article until her eyes were gritty and her head hurt. All she could think about was how her family would feel if Dale Soza was interviewing them.

She stripped out of her clothes and put on some flannel pajamas. Tomorrow, she would get some answers that might lead her closer to the truth. And she’d get to see Adrian again.



Adrian watched Kristy disappear into the depths of the subway entrance. Everything about her was gorgeous and intriguing and sweet. Heck, she even dressed like a confection.

He turned and started walking back to the coffee shop. People, all wrapped in coats and scarves, flowed around him. He hardly saw them. All he could see was Kristy’s face, a smile breaking out when he’d praised her writing. Vivid pink lipstick, glossy over delicious lips. Dimples at her cheeks.

Liking her, especially being so attracted to her, was going to make this even harder. How was he going to convince her to write for his magazine, talk with her, maybe even flirt a little, knowing she was going to be Kiss and Kill Cupid’s next intended victim?





Chapter Three


The next day, Kristy bounced along to a Ting Tings’ song as she walked toward the building that contained Get Out!’s offices. Bundled in a dark pink wool coat with buttons as big as the palm of her hand, she couldn’t get warm. Her thoughts were chilling her from the inside. She paused her player after every song and tuned into the thoughts around her, a total change from what she usually did.

She stopped again outside the glass doors at the entrance and tuned in. The wind blew her hair into her face as she scanned the sidewalk. She could almost convince herself she’d imagined the whole thing. Almost. Truth was, she couldn’t afford to do that. She might end up dead.

I could be one of those pictures in the paper.

She opened the door and went inside, cringing a minute later at her reflection in the brass walls of the elevator. She combed her hair with her fingers as the door opened. Anticipation tingled through her. The potential job. Finding out if Adrian or Owen was a killer.