“I’m on my way.” The killer was moving too fast. He wondered what poor bastard had fallen into the woman’s grasp this time. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Marcus Street was close by. Hell, he’d probably be there in less than five.
The back exit was just a few feet away. He hurried forward, shoved open the heavy metal door, and stepped into the back alley.
The human detective burst out of the back door of the club. The killer froze.
Shit.
Their shoulders brushed, a quick touch. The killer hid a smile and grabbed for the door.
The cop hesitated. “What are you doing back here?”
Nosy bastard. If he didn’t watch it, his time would run out—and the detective would find himself just as dead as the other f**king idiots. “Gettin’ air.” It was dark in the alley, and the cop wouldn’t be able to see much.
Humans were so wonderfully weak.
And playing with them was so much damn fun.
For a moment, the temptation to attack the detective rose, sharp and hot—
But no, it wasn’t time yet for Brooks to die.
Not just yet.
The back door swung open and the killer stepped inside Paradise Found. Waited a beat as the door swung shut. Then smiled.
Perfect. Just in time to catch the best succubus singer this side of the Mississippi.
And to dream of killing her.
Ah, such sweet dreams. Dreams of blood and death and rich, wonderful power.
Would Cara like those dreams? She’d be seeing them, perhaps dreamwalking into them, soon enough.
Then she’d be dying, just like all the others.
Revenge was so wonderfully sweet.
Chapter 5
“We’ve got a copycat,” Colin announced the minute Todd walked to his side in front of the Dayton Hotel.
It was the last thing he’d been expecting. “What? How the hell is that even possible?” The guys in the department had been extra-Captain-McNeal-will-chew-your-ass careful. Nothing had been leaked to the press…yet.
So there should be no damn way to have a copycat killer striking in the night.
“Come on.” Colin spun on his heel and stalked toward the line of hotel rooms on the east side. “See for yourself.”
They strode past the uniforms scoping the scene. Colin pulled on his gloves as they slipped into the room.
Todd’s gaze zeroed in on the body. Male. Muscled. Naked. Looked to be in his mid-thirties. And tied to the bed.
Same victim. Same MO.
Well, not exactly. The bedcovers were pulled up high on this guy. Past his pectorals. In the other cases, the bedspreads and sheets had pooled right over the men’s groin areas.
Todd slanted a quick glance at Colin. Saw his partner’s nostrils widen, just a bit.
“You smell that?” Colin asked.
Todd inhaled heavily, and caught the scent of…blood. He stepped forward, his gaze now sweeping over the victim’s body like a hawk’s.
A tech lifted the covers then, snapped a picture, and Todd got a good look at the guy’s chest.
Blood coated his flesh.
“Sonofabitch.”
“Yeah.” Colin stepped closer. “The uniforms first on the scene didn’t touch anything. They just called in the body, said a naked guy had been found tied to a bed with white hemp rope—”
“And no one even checked to see that the guy had been butchered.” Fuck. Okay, so the uniforms hadn’t wanted to disturb the crime scene—smart.
But, damn.
The lady hadn’t been playing with weapons before.
So much blood. The poor bastard in the bed had died hard.
“I’d say the guy’s been dead less than an hour,” the tech told them.
Colin grunted. “The guy at check-in has him signing in at nine.”
So the time line fit. Okay, but…“Was there anyone with him when he checked in?” Todd asked.
Colin gave a hard nod. “Talked to the clerk right before you got here.” A dark brow rose. “He saw a woman with long blond hair.
A woman who kept her back turned away from him most of the time.”
What was going on? Serials didn’t change their MOs. Not this fast.
“It can’t be a copy,” he muttered, “no one knows about the scene, and—”
“That little redhead, what’s her name? Hannah? Holly? You know, the reporter who replaced Darla on News Flash Five?”
Todd nodded cautiously. Holly Storm.
“I saw her nosing around the scene of the second kill. The captain sent out a gag order.” A damn strong one. Colin shrugged. “But maybe the lady got some info from one of the uniforms.”
“It would’ve been on the five o’clock news if she had.” He’d seen her at the scene, too, skulking around in typical reporter fashion.
But Holly hadn’t broadcast any hard-hitting stories yet—because no one on the force had given her so much as a five-second sound bite—and the public wasn’t even aware that there was a crime wave to copy.
Something else was going on.
The scene didn’t feel like a copy.
“Someone has to know.” Colin pointed to the bed. “Someone knows and they’re trying damn hard to make the scene look the others.”
“Uh, guys?” The tech’s voice, breaking with excitement.
Their heads jerked toward him. The guy lifted up a knife, blade still bloody, gingerly holding it by the hilt. “I think we’ve got the weapon.”
Well, damn. Now that was sure as hell not like the other scenes.
But then, neither was the bloody body.
Either they were dealing with a whole different killer—one who liked the bondage games just as much as the last woman, only she liked for her prey to bleed—or their case had just gotten a very, very big break.
“Let’s get it to forensics.” They needed to scan that baby for prints, ASAP. The odds that there would be a match in the system were slim, even if the perp hadn’t wiped the hilt clean.
Still it was a solid lead, something that they could run with on the hunt. The fire of the chase began to heat Todd’s blood.
It was dawn before Todd made it back to his place. He stripped, then all but fell into the bed.
He caught her scent then. A light, lavender fragrance hanging in the air, mixed with the wilder scent of woman.
Cara.
Hell, it was like the woman was right there with him.
As he closed his eyes, he whispered her name, and wondered if he’d dream of her again.
Or if he’d slip back into the past and dream of sharp teeth and savage claws. A nightmare that he couldn’t escape from as he watched a man transform into a beast in a blinding fury of crunching bones and savage pain.