When a third woman showed up dead, the town went crazy. Women walked in groups, never alone. The sales of alarms and dead bolts skyrocketed. Fear escalated. All because of this one man. The thought of it was intoxicating. From that moment on, he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up: a serial killer.
The killer who inspired him got caught eventually. He made a stupid mistake, got too eager, let his passion overcome his good sense. Escalated. That was what the police called it.
He stroked the edge of Kristy’s picture. That wasn’t going to happen to him. One kill a year was enough, would have to be. He wasn’t driven by madness, wasn’t after the control or even the sexual aspect. Controlling one woman, big deal. Controlling an entire city, now that was cool. He wanted the fame, the glory, the fear. He didn’t rape the women because of the possibility of leaving DNA. No, what he loved was the game. The anticipation. Finding his next victim. Getting to know her. Seeing the horror on her lovely face, watching her fear as he stripped her naked, bound her arms and legs, and toyed with her. The power of taking her life, his gloved hands circling her throat, pressing hard, hearing her last gasps. All heavenly.
Last year he’d forgone that to throw the police a curve by changing his victim type. But always, he left his signature and the kiss, so the police would know exactly who was responsible. He put lipstick on wax lips and pressed them to her stomach, taking no chance that a flake of his skin would be left behind in the lipstick.
Mostly, though, he hungered for the first news report: television footage of the victim’s body being carted out of her apartment; the crime-scene tape; the flashing lights and the crowd pushing as close as they could get to catch a glimpse of something gruesome to tell their friends about. That’s what got him off.
He smiled. Kristy was only a bit player. He would be the star. He kissed Kristy’s picture. “Soon, my dear, the show will be on.”
Chapter Five
The next day Kristy strode into the offices of Get Out!, anticipation buzzing through her. Her gaze went right to the skydiving picture, though, with the classical music playing, she imagined Adrian playing a cello. She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. She aimed that smile at Kyle, the receptionist with long, curly hair.
“Kristy Morgan, here to see Adrian.”
“I’ll ring him.”
Kristy was a jumble of nerves. Excited about the job prospect. More excited about the prospect of Adrian being someone in her life. Scared about Kiss and Kill Cupid.
It figured…find the man of her dreams and become the target of a killer at the same time.
She hung up her coat on the rack. Kyle’s thoughts ran to the mundane, as most people’s did. Where to go to lunch, her upcoming date with someone named Jack.
Someone else’s thought, though, jarred her.
Mm, I can see her tied spread-eagled to the bedposts while I torture her.
She spun around, catching Owen walking into the lobby. The blood fled her face. He was the only man in the vicinity. It had to be his thought. More disturbingly, his expression remained passive, giving away not a hint of his dark musing.
She pushed away her fear. She had to engage him, see what other thoughts came out. “Owen, good to see you again.” She forced herself to reach her hand out to him.
He reluctantly took her hand, and she cringed at the dampness of his palm. He wasn’t meeting her gaze now, though, shifting his light gray eyes away to Kyle. “I’ve got to run out for a few minutes.” He glanced her way. “Uh, see you later.”
He sprinted out the door.
“That’s odd,” Kyle said with a shrug. “I’ve never seen him move so fast.”
He was acting odd.
Couldn’t meet her gaze.
Nervous.
Check, check, check! She had definitely found the Kiss and Kill Cupid—and he was Adrian’s best friend and business partner.
“Hello, there.” Adrian’s voice, even low and soothing as it was, couldn’t calm her jangled nerves.
Kristy managed a smile anyway. Just the feel of his hand enveloping hers injected a sense of protection, like a warm, pulsing energy flowing through her.
His dark blue knit shirt set off his eyes, and the warmth of his smile, which reached those eyes, tempered the cold inside her. He gestured down the hall. “Come on back to my office.” To Kyle, he said, “Hold my calls.”
Your friend…your business partner… the words wanted to burst out. Stay calm. You can’t throw something like that out there. You have to ease into it.
He allowed her to precede him into the first office on the left, then closed the door behind him. He leaned against the front edge of his desk, and that angle put them more face-to-face. She realized he was doing it for that reason.