Don't Trust A Killer

  Good to know. “How do I signal?”

  “You fucking scream, baby. Then one of us will come running.” He swung open the door. “Hey, Abby, got some fresh meat for you.”

  ***

  Bree walked out of Fantasy, her new uniform tucked under her right arm, her steps sure and certain. The club was located near the end of Bourbon Street, just steps away from the infamous Jean Lafitte’s bar. As she hurried onto the street, a horse and carriage came rolling by, the wheels churning as the driver told the family in the back all about Lafitte’s haunted bar.

  She didn’t glance at the carriage. Instead, Bree made her away across the street. Then she turned into an alley. Slid between two buildings. Every now and then, she’d look over her shoulder and when she was sure that she was clear…

  She headed for her planned rendezvous. The building she approached appeared abandoned. The windows were boarded up. A “No Trespassing” sign was attached to the old porch. She didn’t climb onto the porch. Instead, Bree entered via the back of the old house. And as soon as she stepped inside…

  “Excellent job, Agent Harlow.”

  Her team was waiting for her. The FBI agents all faced her, smiles on their faces.

  Dominic Grant lowered the headphones he’d been wearing. “Heard every single word.” He gave a low whistle. “Thought I’d piss myself when you said that you’d heard the guy was a killer.” His green eyes gleamed. “Took some balls.”

  She was covered in sweat—and the sweat wasn’t just from the fact that it was still humid in October. The New Orleans heat was like a suffocating coat, but her sweat came from the fact that she’d just had a face-off with the man suspected of being a serial killer. The New Orleans Strangler.

  “Told you that it would be easy for you to get in,” Grayson Wesley said with a slow nod. He was the special agent in charge of the investigation and the whole reason she was even involved with the case. She’d just graduated from the FBI Academy in Quantico, and Grayson had called her in. He’d specifically requested her for this case, and she had no idea why. He’d done a stint as a lecturer at Quantico, and she’d loved his profiling discussion. The cases he’d talked about, the way the agents had been able to track the killers just based on psychological assessments—that was what fascinated her. She’d always wanted to profile. Her desire to understand and unmask killers was the reason she’d joined the Bureau. She wanted to be out in the world, stopping monsters. She’d had that one goal for as long as she could remember.

  Ever since monsters destroyed everything I cared about.

  And now, she had the chance do it. Her first real assignment as an FBI agent. Sure, she wasn’t making the profiles just yet, but that was okay. She was working undercover. Getting close to the target. Closer than anyone had gotten before.

  “I knew you’d be just his type,” Grayson continued with a slow nod. His brown hair was brushed back from his high forehead, and his eyes glinted with approval.

  A little shiver slid down her spine at Grayson’s words. She knew what he meant, of course.

  The other two victims who’d recently been found in New Orleans—Lindsey Marshall and Ciara Hall—had also both been blondes. Lindsey’s hair had trailed down her back in a tangle of beautiful curls. Ciara’s blond hair had been styled in a short pixie-cut, one that accentuated her delicate features…and that had left her neck completely exposed to the killer. Both women had been strangled, their necks marked with deep bruises in death.

  Bree tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m scheduled to go back to the club tonight.” But they’d know that. Bree was wired, and the team had been listening to every single word she said to Kace.

  Karin Miller approached quickly. A few years older than Bree, the redhead gave her a reassuring smile. “The hardest part was getting inside.”

  Grayson shook his head. “No, the hardest part will be finding evidence to nail that bastard. He’s walked for years. Bribed the local PD. Gotten away with every fucking thing imaginable, but it ends here. Kace Quick is a killer, and we’re going to lock him away.” His gaze held hers. “You’re the bait, Bree. Reel him in. Let’s make this jerk pay for what he’s done.”

  When Lindsey’s body had been discovered behind the St. Louis Cathedral, Grayson had immediately known her case was different. When she’d looked at the crime scene photos, Bree had understood why. The woman had been strangled, a long scarf left around her neck, and her body had been perfectly positioned by the killer. Then…too soon after, the second body had been found. Ciara Hall had been murdered in the exact same way, strangled. But this time, a long length of white, hemp rope had been coiled around her neck. She’d been placed behind the St. Louis Cathedral, too.

  Two dead women. The same MO. Grayson had started looking for links between them, and he’d found one major link, all right.

  Kace Quick.

  Kace Quick…Fifteen years ago, the guy had been charged with murdering his girlfriend, Brittney Lang. A young woman with blond hair who’d been found strangled. Kace had been eighteen years old at the time. He’d been crucified in the Press, but at the last moment, a new witness had come forward, a girl who had provided Kace with an alibi. Kace had been found not guilty.

  Grayson believed that Kace had killed Brittney Lang. He thought that long-ago witness had lied. And he believed that Kace was killing again. That Kace had a preferred victim type.

  Women who look like me.

  So, when Grayson had started a task force to look into the New Orleans Strangler—a moniker the local reporters had adopted—Grayson had called her in because he wanted her to get close to the chief suspect.

  Kace Quick.

  Sexy. Dangerous. Killer?

  Time to find out.

  Bree squared her shoulders. “I’ll get the job done. Count on it.”

  ***

  A soft knock rapped at the door. “Come in,” Kace called, not even glancing up from his computer.

  The door creaked open. Footsteps were swallowed by the lush carpet. And—

  A throat cleared.

  Sighing, Kace looked up and found Remy frowning at him. “There a problem?”

  “I’m not sure about the new girl.”

  He let his brows climb.

  “You want a full background check on her?”

  That was typical. Kace always wanted to know exactly who he employed—and what secrets those individuals might be hiding from him. Secrets could be very dangerous. “Of course.”

  Remy nodded. He didn’t leave.

  Kace waited.

  “I don’t trust her, Kace.”

  Ah, finally. Remy wasn’t normally the type to hold back. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  Remy blinked. “If you don’t trust her, then why—”

  Now Kace stood. He stalked around his desk. “You think I don’t know what she is?” He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Come now, my friend, you and I have been in this business a very long time.”

  Remy inclined his head.

  “I could practically smell the fear coming from her.” He’d seen the nervousness in her stare. Bree Harlow had been scared to death to be in the same room with him, yet she’d stayed. And she’d asked her questions. Very deliberate questions. “Our girl is green. Far too green for this case.”

  “You think she’s a cop?”

  “She’s not local. I know all the local cops.” Especially cops who looked like her.

  Golden eyes. Golden skin. Red, lush lips. Her hair had been a sun-streaked blond and cut in a bob to fall just above her shoulders. Totally straight, her hair had emphasized her high cheekbones and framed her heart-shaped face. The woman was gorgeous. Curved in all the right places and gifted with a voice that sounded better than Saturday night sin.

  And he would have bet his life that she was a Fed.

  Kace rolled back his shoulders. “The FBI wants to pin Lindsey and Ciara’s murders on me. They’ve been practically salivating, but they don’t have enough to g
o on.” They had jack shit. “So, I think they’ve stepped up their game.”

  Remy tensed.

  Kace pretended not to notice. Remy could be so touchy about things…things like murder, for example. With the secrets that Remy carried, Kace would have expected something different. But, oh well.

  Remy’s brows lowered. “If you think she’s FBI, then why the hell would you let her even step foot in Fantasy?”

  Now Kace had to laugh. Why? “Remy, Remy, Remy…” Kace slapped his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Didn’t you look at her? The woman is just my type.”

  Remy seemed to stiffen even more. “Boss…”

  “Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll just scare this one.” Scare her. Maybe seduce her. Maybe do both. It all just depended on how he was feeling. He was definitely in the mood to teach the FBI a lesson. “Of course, she has to make it through the night first.” He headed for the door.

  “Kace…”

  He laughed again. “The grand opening. Our big show. Bree Harlow arrived just in time.” Kace threw a final glance over his shoulder. “I promise you this, the night will be an absolute killer.”

  Chapter Two

  “Perfect, you’re here on time.” The tall, gorgeous redhead gave Bree a quick once over. Bree had met Abby Johnson, the floor manager at Fantasy, right after Kace had given her the job. And now that she’d come back for her night shift, Bree’s first order of business was to check in with Abby.

  Abby waved Bree forward, her gaze sweeping over her body. “Uniform fits. You look great.” She gave an approving nod. “Go get scanned and you’ll be ready to learn the shift routine.”

  Bree paused. She’d been about to walk past Abby and head for the staff area. Now, though, she glanced at the manager and asked, “Scanned?”

  Abby blinked her hazel eyes. “You weren’t told about that part?”

  Bree shook her head.

  Abby blew out a quick breath. “Nothing really. Takes all of five seconds.” She offered Bree a reassuring smile. “The security guys run a quick scanner over your body. It’s just a precaution.” She glanced down at the clipboard in her hand.

  “A precaution for what?” Unease slithered through Bree.

  Abby looked up. “To make sure you’re not a cop.”

  Oh, shit, oh, shit. Oh, shit.

  Then Abby laughed, a light, quick peal of sound. “God, your face is absolutely hilarious right now.” She came closer, still smiling. “Relax. It’s just standard operating procedure for Kace Quick.” Another laugh. “The guy is paranoid to the extreme, but you’ll learn that fast enough.” She leaned toward Bree and whispered, “He always insists on every staff member being scanned before a shift. Sometimes, the business that is discussed in his club isn’t exactly, well…” Her words trailed away.

  So, Bree finished, “Legal?”

  Abby simply stared at her. “According to Remy, there was an incident once. A waiter tried to come in with a listening device on him. Thought he’d get some incriminating tidbit on Kace. Didn’t happen.”

  “What did happen to the waiter?”

  “Hell if I know. You don’t screw around with Kace Quick and just walk away.” A shrug. “The scan is required for everyone. Seriously, they just wave a wand over your body. They don’t get to touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  It wasn’t. She was worried about the damn listening device that was tucked inside her bra.

  “Get the scan and then come back to me. When you’re all clear, I’ll start giving you table assignments for the night.”

  Before Bree could respond, someone called Abby’s name. Abby hurried away. “Seriously?” Her voice rose. “The trapeze is supposed to be higher than that. How many times do I have to tell…”

  Bree sucked in a sharp breath. Then another. Then she tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do. The security guards were to the side, and, jeez, yes, they were scanning the other staff members. If she didn’t go toward them, it would look suspicious as all hell.

  And if she went toward them, she was busted. She’d be kicked out of the club before the shift had even started.

  Her gaze darted around, frantic. There—the restroom. She made a beeline for it and—

  “Hi…Bree, isn’t it?” Remy was in her way. Wearing a new suit, a black one this time, and still looking like a big, brick wall.

  She gave him a quick smile. “Yes, it’s Bree.”

  “Ready for your first night?”

  No. But she would be, once she got rid of the listening device.

  “Abby tell you that you need to check in with security? It’s standard practice, every single night.”

  Bree forced a light laugh. “It’d be nice if the customers had to get scanned, too.”

  He didn’t laugh back. “We keep an eye on them. Don’t worry.”

  “Ah, right.” She side-stepped. “I have to go to the ladies’ room, please excuse me—”

  “Kace wants to see you.”

  Her heart shoved hard into her chest.

  “Right now,” Remy added, and his dark eyes seemed extra cold. Before she could say another word, he took her arm and escorted her to the big boss’s office. And with every single step they took, one thought flashed through Bree’s mind…

  Oh, God. This is so not good.

  She stumbled, her high heels tripping her. She would have gone down, but Remy caught her. He pulled her close and their bodies collided. She pushed against him and straightened up. As she straightened, Bree smoothed her hands over her shirt, slipping her finger inside and toward her bra strap. “I’m…sorry.” She turned away, just for a moment. “I am so clumsy.” Her hand moved to her side. Her fingers opened. She dropped the small transmitter.

  “Better be careful in those heels. You don’t want to get hurt.”

  Deliberately, she moved one heel to the right. The soft crunch sounded way too loud to her ears, but Remy didn’t seem to notice the sound. He just took her elbow again. “You don’t keep the boss waiting. Remember that.”

  ***

  “Kace, Ms. Harlow is ready for work.” Remy stood just inside of Kace’s doorway, with Bree at his side.

  She is fucking beautiful. The thought immediately ran through Kace’s mind as he sat behind the desk, and he was damn glad that he was sitting. Because his dick took one look at Bree and immediately jumped to happy attention.

  There was something about her. Something that hit him on a primal level. He’d had the same reaction the first time they’d met. He’d taken one look at her—and wanted. Lusted.

  A big problem.

  “Leave us alone,” Kace ordered, aware that his voice was too rough but not really giving a shit.

  Remy backed out of the office without a word. He shut the door with a soft click. Bree stood there, her hands at her side, her feet encased in a sexy as hell pair of red heels. She wore the standard black pants, and the low cut, scooping black blouse—but on her…

  Bree looks good in black. Good enough to eat.

  Her golden skin and her blond hair were emphasized by the dark outfit. Her breasts pushed against the top of her blouse, and the pants showed off her narrow waist. Dark shadow and mascara made her golden eyes seem even bigger, and the slick, red lipstick on her mouth made him hungry to taste her lips.

  “Is there a problem?” Her voice was careful, her expression guarded.

  He sighed and reached into his desk. “There could be.”

  Bree stiffened.

  He rose, pulling out the security wand—the same wand that his men used to check personnel. He’d been burned in the past, so he didn’t take chances any longer. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice…

  And you’ll wish you’d never been born.

  His hand curled loosely around the end of the scanner. “I thought we’d do this check here.”

  “Why?” She backed up a step. Ah, a bad move. Didn’t she know that showing fear would just make her more tempting to him? “I, uh, Abby told me tha
t the check would be performed by the guards—”

  Taking his time, he walked around the desk and headed for her. He was still aroused, and if the woman glanced down, she’d sure as shit notice the fact. But her wide-eyed gaze was on his face. And he could practically smell her fear. Baby, you’ve obviously got plenty to hide. She was truly the greenest agent he’d ever seen.

  Why was he doing the check himself? The real reason was because he didn’t want his guards getting rough with her when they found the listening device. He had no doubt the woman was transmitting. So, he’d decided to check her out himself. When he found the device, she’d confess her lies. He’d escort her out. He’d show the FBI that he didn’t dick around. That he was on to their games.

  That would be the end of his fun with Bree.

  He couldn’t very well fuck an agent investigating him. Could he?

  “My references checked out.” She seemed absolutely certain of that fact.

  Too certain.

  Inclining his head, Kace agreed, “They did.”

  Her smile came and went, the dimple an all-too-brief flash. “Then what’s the deal? Why do I get special treatment?”

  He stopped in front of her. His left hand lifted and touched her cheek. “Maybe because you’re special.”

  Her breath caught.

  “Don’t worry. It will only take a moment.”

  Her lower lip trembled. She truly had gorgeous lips. He’d like to lick that lower lip. Like to suck it. Bite it.

  Make her moan.

  “Extend your arms from your sides for me. Then brace your legs apart.” When she complied, he began to run the scanner over her left arm—

  “Is this legal?” Bree blurted.

  He had to bite back a laugh. “It’s entirely your choice. You can walk out the door right now, if you want.”