Don't Trust A Killer

  She kept her control. Rather impressive. He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. Bree just kept staring at him with eyes that were too freaking gorgeous.

  He was the one to finally prompt, “Bree? Don’t you want to say something?”

  “Grayson is FBI. And I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve come across someone in law enforcement who might be…” Bree seemed to search for words before finally saying, “Less than perfect.”

  He’d come across some straight-up assholes and crooks before. He’d also been lucky enough to find some cops he could trust. Though they probably shouldn’t trust him.

  “How did you know he’s FBI?” Bree asked as she tilted her head to the left. Her hair brushed over her shoulder.

  He reached into his desk drawer and tossed the stolen wallet toward her. “He might be missing this.”

  She reached for the wallet. “Grayson was a mistake.”

  You think? “He’s FBI. The FBI and the NOPD think I’m a killer. They want to throw me in a cell and never let me out.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately for them, that’s not happening.” Though they could certainly try their hardest. “A serial killer is at work in this town. That’s obvious to everyone. But I’m not that guy.”

  She opened the wallet. Stared down at the ID inside.

  You think you know him, Bree? Trust me, you don’t.

  “The reporters said the latest victim was killed around five a.m. this morning.” Her gaze rose from the wallet to pin him. “Where were you then?”

  “You’re asking about my alibi? Seriously?” Anger twisted in his gut, but his voice was ice cold.

  “You say you’re not a killer—”

  “No, sweetheart, I said I’m not the killer that they are looking for.” He’d never claimed that he hadn’t killed before.

  And he saw that understanding flash in her eyes. Understanding and a flicker of fear. Now she was catching on. This green agent was in way over her head. She’d gotten stuck in a battle she didn’t truly understand. But he could be kind to her, in his way.

  Kace smiled. “You’re done here, Bree. Clean out your locker and get out of Fantasy.”

  She dropped the wallet onto the top of the desk. “You’re firing me?”

  “Yes, that would appear to be what I’m doing.” Good thing she was following along.

  Bree shot to her feet. “Because I once fucked an FBI agent? That’s why you’re firing me? It was a one-time thing, I can assure you of that. I didn’t realize who he was at the time. When I learned the truth, I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”

  Those words sounded honest. The fire in her eyes looked real, too. Interesting.

  “One time,” Kace murmured. “And yet he was in your room last night.” His gaze raked her. “You must be pretty unforgettable.”

  Her chin notched up. “You have no idea.”

  Okay, shit, now she was just turning him on more. Because the woman would not act in a way he could predict. When he’d told her to collect her stuff, she should have folded in on herself. Given up. Not told him that sex with her would be insane and unforgettable.

  Which he already knew it would be. The things they could do together…

  “I did a good job last night. I waited all my tables. My customers had no complaints.”

  Except for the jackass who’d gotten handsy. He’d had complaints—when they shoved him and his buddies out of the door.

  But Bree wasn’t done. Her eyes blazed as she declared, “So I slept with a Fed. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Bree Harlow doesn’t exist.” He dropped bombshell number two.

  Then waited for her denial.

  None came.

  The woman was so damn interesting. “Care to explain why it is that when I dig deeper into your past, nothing is there?” Kace prompted. This should be good.

  “Sure. Fine. Whatever. It’s because I wanted a fresh start. Because I left my old life behind when my parents were killed.” She swallowed. “Because I got tired of having my name flashed in every headline out there. I reinvented myself, okay? And I’m glad I did. Sometimes we need to escape our past.”

  He rose from his chair. Stalked around the desk. Stood right beside her. “Who were you?” Now he was curious. He should have kicked her out by now. He knew she was a Fed, and yet—

  “When I was fifteen years old, I came home to find my parents stabbed to death in the living room. I screamed and screamed, and then I realized the killer was still in the house with me.”

  Every muscle in his body locked down. “What?” That was not the shit he’d expected to hear. The anger in his gut transformed into something much more dangerous.

  “I realized the bastard was still there when he put his knife to my stomach.” She jerked up her shirt, revealing a long, thin scar that slid from her belly button to her right side. “The blade cut into me. I-I hadn’t heard him approach. I just felt his knife while I was staring at my parents on the floor.”

  He wanted to destroy.

  Instead, Kace’s fingertips lifted and lightly traced the scar. “What happened?”

  “I don’t think he expected me to fight. I think…I mean, to him, I was just this kid. This hysterical kid who’d walked into a blood bath. He probably thought I’d be easy pickings.”

  Not you.

  “I drove my elbow back into him. I hit him as hard as I could. He let me go, probably because he was more surprised than anything else. I ran. I ran as fast as I could for the front door. And I didn’t stop running. I didn’t stop until a police officer found me in the middle of the road. His lights hit me, and I realized I had blood covering me.”

  His fingers traced the scar.

  “By the time the police went to my house, the killer was gone. And…” Now her voice trailed away.

  But Kace wanted to hear more. “What happened?”

  “My parents were dead. We’d fought earlier that night. A stupid, ridiculous fight because I wanted to go out with my friends, and my dad didn’t want me to. The neighbors heard us arguing. I left, and when I came back, they were dead.” She bit her lower lip. “But the Press went with a different story. They thought I’d killed them, that the knife wound in my stomach was a result of either my father or my mother fighting back. You see, their killer was never found, and as time passed, I became a pariah in my city.”

  His hand slid to her hip. Her skin felt like silk beneath his touch.

  “Josie Shepard died when I turned eighteen. I killed her. I buried her. That girl had nothing but pain in her past, and I wanted a fresh start. So yeah, Bree Harlow doesn’t exactly have a full background that you can dig up online, but she’s real. She’s standing right in front of you.”

  And he realized he was staring at someone who might actually understand him. Someone who’d felt the same staggering pain and rage.

  If she was telling the truth.

  His head bent toward her. His lips pressed to hers.

  Kace felt the jolt of surprise rock through her, and her hands flew up, pressing to his chest.

  “I spill my dark secrets to you,” she whispered, “and you kiss me?”

  “It was barely a kiss,” he rasped right back. “Let’s try harder.” And he did. Her lips were parted, and he took full advantage. His tongue swept into her mouth, and her taste ignited him. She gave a little moan in the back of her throat, one that made the lust spike higher and darker inside of him. His dick was rock hard, shoving against the front of his jeans, and he wanted to strip away her clothes and sink into her.

  His hands curled around her hips, and he lifted her up. Still kissing her, he spun them and sat her on the edge of his desk. Then he moved in between her spread legs, even as he pulled her closer to him. His mouth feasted on hers. He’d always enjoyed kissing, the sensual feel of lips and tongue, but with Bree, it was something different.

  Everything felt different with her. Hotter. Wilder.

  Fucking her would feel fantastic.


  “Wait!” She pulled her mouth from his. Her breath came in quick pants. “I didn’t…I didn’t think we were doing this. You don’t get involved with employees—”

  She was so freaking adorable. He kissed her lips again. “Sweetheart, don’t you remember? I just fired you.” They were free and clear to commence fucking right then and there. The first time would be on his desk. The second would be against the wall. For the third, maybe he’d take her back to his place.

  But she shoved against him. Hard.

  He stepped back. Exhaled on a long, rough breath.

  “You can’t fire me! And you sure can’t screw me right after you do it!” She jumped off his desk, glowering, and stabbed her index finger into his chest. “My ex is a Fed. What-the-hell-ever. I’d think that you might actually like that.”

  Now his brows lifted. “Why would I like that?” Kace was genuinely confused, a first for him.

  “Because he’s investigating you!” The words blasted out. “That’s what he was telling me in my room last night! That he thought you were the man who’d murdered those women behind the St. Louis Cathedral. He wanted me to stay away from you!”

  Kace shrugged. “Maybe you should heed the guy’s advice.”

  “Did you kill them?”

  He stared her straight in the eyes. “No.”

  Her gaze searched his. Was she trying to see if he was lying? Telling the truth? She’d never be able to read him. No one ever could.

  “Screw him over,” she urged softly. “You don’t like the Feds. I don’t like him. Grayson lied when we hooked up. Pretended to be someone else. I wouldn’t have slept with him if I’d known the truth.”

  She was good. He had to give her that. He suspected that Bree mixed just enough truth and lies together that she sounded…believable.

  “Piss him off. Let me keep working here.”

  “It would probably piss your ex off more if I fired you, but then had mind-blowing sex with you.” He smiled at her.

  Her brow furrowed. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  Another shrug. “You aren’t the first to make the claim.” She could join the line on that one.

  “I’m a damn good waitress.”

  Actually, she was. But… “You were the last hire, sweetheart. Even if it weren’t for the FBI, it turns out that I don’t need you. I need a bartender, not—”

  “I can tend bar. I can do that job, no problem.” A desperate edge sharpened her words. “I can wait tables. I can even spin from those silks that you’ve got hanging from your ceiling.”

  His smile faded.

  “I can do anything,” Bree threw at him. “You name it. I am not losing this job. I won’t let you kick me out.”

  My, my, someone was determined. Time to see just how determined. “Then I think you have yourself a new job.” He rubbed his jaw as he considered this new development. “Can’t wait to see you in the air, but you’re going to need a new uniform.”

  “Uh, what?”

  He turned away from her, the better to conceal his expression. “You said you could do the silks, didn’t you?”

  “I—” Just that, nothing more.

  He headed for the door. Yanked it open. Remy was waiting a few feet away. “Change of plans,” he told his buddy. “You won’t be escorting Bree to her locker and then kicking her ass out.”

  A gasp from behind him. “You jerk! You were going to have Remy—”

  “She’ll be doing the silks tonight,” he added with a firm nod. “So she’ll need a costume.”

  Remy blinked at him. “Want to say that again?”

  “The silks.” He flashed his killer grin and finally glanced back at Bree. Ah, yes, now the lovely color was in her cheeks. “You did say you could do them, I believe? Because if you didn’t, I’m afraid there is no other job available.” He was calling her bluff. No way would Bree be able to—

  “I thought you said you needed a bartender.”

  Sparring with her was too much fun. “I was wrong. I only need an aerial performer. If you can’t do that job, there’s nothing here for you.”

  “What about Marie?” Remy asked. “I thought she was doing the silks.”

  “Marie quit. She texted Abby and said she was done.”

  Frowning, Remy pulled out his phone. As his fingers swiped over the screen, Bree marched toward Kace. “I can do the silks. I told you last night, I used to be a dancer. I also competed in gymnastics until I was fifteen years old.”

  Until her parents had died. He swallowed. “Bree—”

  “I still work out. I can do the silks. I will do them, and you won’t be able to take your eyes off me.”

  Kace had a flash of Bree wearing one of those tiny outfits that the performers used. He could see her limbs winding around the silks as the lights focused just on her. On her legs. Her breasts. “Uh, wait, Bree…” Maybe this is a bad idea.

  “Get a good seat.” Her finger jabbed into his chest. “You don’t want to miss this show.”

  Chapter Six

  “Tell me you know what the hell you are doing.” Abby put her hands on her hips as she glared at Bree. “Because there is no way I’m sending you up there if you are just going to fall and break your neck.” The floor manager stared at Bree as if she’d lost her mind.

  She hadn’t.

  Bree eased out a slow breath as she stared into the mirror. She’d been scanned per Kace’s rules, and now she was in a costume. Not the first costume that she’d been offered. That one had been a nude costume with some carefully placed faux diamonds. From a distance, it had looked as if her breasts, ass, and sex were just covered by the glittering gems. Bree had wanted more coverage, thank you very much.

  So now she wore a black leotard with a back that crisscrossed with strips of black lace. Her legs were bare, the better for her to move and twist during the act. Basic, and probably not at all what Kace had in mind, but screw him. This was the costume she’d wear during her performance.

  “Bree?” Abby prompted. Her eyes showed her worry.

  “I’m not going to break my neck.” She would have liked more rehearsal time—she’d gotten two hours backstage with the other performers. More time would have been great. But she did know what she was doing. Before the waitressing job had become available, the FBI had actually planned to send her in for the aerial silk performer spot, only that spot had been taken before Bree could apply.

  “What happened to the other girl?” Bree asked. “The one from last night.” She adjusted the leotard on her shoulder. “She was fabulous.”

  “She texted me and said she was quitting.” Anger hummed in Abby’s voice. “Marie Argeneaux better not think of ever working in this town again.”

  Bree could clearly see Abby’s reflection in the mirror. The other woman looked pissed as she spoke of Marie.

  But then Abby released a long breath. “I guess it’s a good thing we have you,” Abby murmured. She patted Bree’s shoulder. “Way to be a team player, Bree.”

  Right. She was all about the team. Her FBI team. No way was she going to let them down.

  Abby turned away, and Bree’s hand flew out to touch her arm. “Did you hear about the woman who was killed near the trolley tracks?”

  “The police released her name.” Fear flickered in Abby’s eyes.

  “You knew her.”

  A nod. “Amelia was…troubled. She needed help.”

  Bree decided to push a little more. “Kace told me about her. Said she’d gotten obsessed with him.”

  The fear vanished from Abby’s eyes, and a coldness took its place. “Some women will do anything to get a little power in this town. But Kace isn’t a man that you screw with.”

  Bree let her hand fall. “He wants to fire me.”

  “Then I hope your show is really spectacular tonight. Don’t give him an excuse.” Abby nodded briskly. “I’ll be on the floor watching.” She hurried away.

  Well, so much for getting an ally or any good intel from her. Bree glanced back
in the mirror—

  And realized why Abby had been so quick to leave.

  Kace was there. Standing a few feet behind Bree. She gave a little jump when she saw him. “Jesus!”

  “No.”

  She frowned at him. Did he think that was funny? “I’d say you’re more like the devil.”

  Now he strode toward her. “Far more accurate.”

  Her heart was racing because he’d startled her and not because any part of her was glad to see him.

  “You can back out.” He stood behind her, his larger body seeming to dwarf hers in the mirror. “You don’t have to do this. When I made the suggestion, I was fucking around.” His voice roughened. “You don’t need to—”

  “I spent the last two hours rehearsing. I’ve got this.” She stared at their reflections.

  His hand lifted, and his fingers slid down her arm. Goosebumps followed in the wake of his touch.

  “I…I used to teach some aerial classes.” Another truth. And an understatement at the same time. She’d taught every year during college. “When you have a talent and you need to make money, you use whatever you’ve got.” She wasn’t as good as the girl from last night. No freaking way was she on Marie’s level. But she wasn’t about to fall to her death, either.

  “You look sexy as hell.”

  Her lips parted. “It’s…um, the most concealing costume that was in stock.”

  “I know. It’s still too damn small.” He shook his head. “No, you just look too good in it.”

  She fought a smile. “Is it hard to give compliments? Like, do you have some issue that stops you from saying nice things?”

  His head cocked. He stared into the mirror, stared at her, and said, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve seen.”

  He sounded as if he meant those words.

  Then Kace shook his head. “Don’t go onto the silks.”

  She had to go onto them. Losing her position at Fantasy wasn’t an option. “I have to perform tonight. My boss is a real asshole.” But she smiled at him in the mirror. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “I was screwing around. I thought you’d tell me to fuck off. You didn’t.”