"Is Valentine killing in my city?"

I think so. G.o.d help us all. "You need to call Detective Sean Hobbs. He worked the case up in Boston. Talk to him. He can-"

"Did you kill Savannah Slater?" Detective Black's cold question blew right through her words.

"No, of course not!" Fury hardened her voice.

His eyes narrowed on her, and she almost felt as if he could see right into her soul. Almost, until he asked, "Were you present when she was killed?"

"No!" Not for this kill. Not this time.

"Then where were you? Because, Ms. Cole, we're sure as h.e.l.l gonna need an alibi from you."

Her lips trembled. She didn't have an alibi. She'd been alone all weekend. At home. And she had no close neighbors. No one to vouch for her.

The interrogation room door flew open. "This interview is over," a familiar voice blasted.

Katherine looked up and found her handler standing in the doorway.

Detective Black leapt to his feet. His chair slammed to the floor behind him. "Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

Her handler yanked out his ID. "I'm Anthony Ross, and this woman is coming with me."

The detective s.n.a.t.c.hed the ID for a closer look while the man Katherine a.s.sumed was his partner cursed. Black and Ross were about the same size, and they were standing toe to toe.

"You're a U.S. marshal?" Detective Black asked, and there was no missing his shock.

Ross reached for her hand. "Come on, Katherine."

"I can't." She lifted the cuffs.

Ross closed his green eyes for a moment. "You are kidding me." His gaze snapped open and locked on the detectives. "Why is she cuffed? Why?"

"Because she knows far too much about my murder victim." Detective Black wasn't backing down. "Either she was there or she knows-"

"Katherine wasn't there. I can verify her whereabouts for the last forty-eight hours."

Sweet of him to lie. But the marshal had ulterior motives.

He wanted to get her out of the precinct.

Ross held out his hand. "The. Key."

But instead of handing him the key, the Detective Black stalked around the table and knelt beside Katherine. She tensed. Too close.

She stared down at him. His head was tilted as he stared at the cuffs. His hair was dark, so thick, and a little too long. His profile was strong, and from this angle, there was no missing the fact that someone had definitely taken a few swings at his nose.

And he smelled nice. Not a cologne scent. Just...man.

He slipped the key into the lock and the cuff opened with a quick snick, but the detective didn't back away. Instead, his fingers smoothed over her wrist, stroking lightly, right where the cuff had bitten into her skin.

Now his head tilted back so that he met her stare. "If you don't tell me what's going on," he said, his gaze searching hers, "then how am I supposed to keep you safe?"

Safe. Sometimes she wasn't even sure what that word meant anymore. Her tongue swiped over her too-dry lips. "You can't."

His fingers tightened around her wrist. "You don't know me well. Not yet." Why did that sound like a promise? "But believe me when I say that I could protect you from anyone or anything out there."

Detective Black was a good cop. She'd heard the stories about him before. Seen his high-profile busts on TV. Not a glory hound, but a cop the media seemed to love.

So her smile was sad when she stood and pulled away from him. "I have to go now."

"d.a.m.n straight," Ross said, and then he was the one catching her hand. "And if you have any other questions for Katherine, you route them through me."

Detective Black rose slowly. "You're not a lawyer."

"And she shouldn't be your suspect," Ross snapped right back. "So do your job and get out there and find the killer."

He tried to pull her through the doorway.

Katherine dug in her heels. She glanced back at the detectives once more. She'd come here for a reason. "Call Boston. Talk to Sean."

"Dammit, Kat," Ross muttered. "We need to go."

This time, she went with him.

And she hoped that the cops would be ready to face the h.e.l.l coming their way.

"Well, well, well..." Mac blew out a hard breath and shook his head as he stared out the open interrogation room door. "What the h.e.l.l was that?"

Wrong question. "We need to find out why the U.S. marshal's office is protecting her." He could still smell her sweet scent. All around him.

Her skin had been softer than silk.

A killer? He didn't know, not yet. But now a marshal was involved, and that mixed up the case even more.

A marshal. Protecting a woman who knew far too much about one of the most wanted men in the United States.

He shoved by Mac and rushed back into the bull pen. His captain was coming out of his office. Harley Dunning's round face was even redder than usual. "You want to tell me why I got the marshal's office on my a.s.s?"

Dane grunted as he sat down at his desk. "Ten minutes, Cap. Just give me ten minutes..." Sweat trickled down his cheek as he grabbed for his phone. He hit the b.u.t.ton for the station operator. "Yeah, yeah, look, it's Detective Black, and I need you to connect me to the Boston PD, to one Detective Sean Hobbs." His heart thudded in his chest. "Now." He was connecting the dots as quickly as he could.

"What's goin' on?" Harley demanded as he closed in on Dane.

Mac answered, "Our suspect gave us a tip, right before the marshal with the shiny badge dragged her away."

"A tip?" the captain pushed.

"Yeah." Dane grunted as he waited for the connection. "And one we're d.a.m.n well checking out."

The marshal's involvement meant the woman wasn't just some bulls.h.i.tter off the street. And her eyes-those beautiful, golden eyes-had been full of determination and fear.

There'd been no missing the way her voice broke each time she mentioned Valentine.

The marshal wanted to protect her, but Dane wasn't about to let that guy stand in his way. He had a murder to solve, and if Katherine Cole was involved, she wasn't getting away from him, marshal or no d.a.m.n marshal.

To stop a killer, Dane would be willing to use anything or anyone.

No more blood. No more torture. He would do anything necessary to bring the killer to justice.

"No more talking to the cops, Kat," Anthony Ross said. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he guided them through the thick New Orleans traffic. "What the f.u.c.k were you thinking?" He stopped the vehicle, and a trolley whizzed past them.

Anger stirred in Katherine's gut, slowly breaking through the ice that had encased her ever since she saw the news footage earlier that day. "Don't call me Kat. I told you that before." Because he'd called her that.

She saw him slant a quick glance her way.

"And as to what the f.u.c.k I was thinking..." She sucked in a sharp breath. "I was thinking the cops needed to know who they were dealing with."

"So you put yourself up as a target? Dammit, Kat-Katherine." He corrected himself quickly. "You know this can't be some random attack. A kill like this, basically right on your front doorstep-"

Her jaw dropped. "But you told me-when I called you-you said-"

"I was just trying to keep you calm until I could get to you!" His hand slapped against the steering wheel. "I wanted to keep you safe."

Detective Black had promised to keep her safe.

She glanced down at her clenched hands. "Savannah Slater had eleven knife wounds on her left arm and ten on her right."

Silence. She looked over and saw a muscle jerk along Ross's jaw.

"Would a copycat know about the number of wounds?" Katherine asked.

He exhaled, and the lines on his face deepened. "Only if he saw the confidential reports from the bureau or the Boston PD. The press never knew about the exact number on the victims."

She'd thought as much. There were no coincidences in this world. She'd learned that long ago. The wounds...the rose...the bindings..."If he's killing here, then he knows that I'm here, too."

"We don't know that yet. h.e.l.l, we don't know anything for sure at this point." Ross wasn't taking her straight home. They snaked through the city, following a route she knew was meant to confuse or lose any tails. Just in case anyone is following us.

He wouldn't want to lead anyone back to her house on the outskirts of the city.

"I'll drop you off, and then I'll do some checking on my own. I'll find out what's happening here," Ross promised. His knuckles whitened as he held the wheel. "But Katherine, if it looks like it really is him or even a copycat who knows about you..."

He paused, but she knew what was coming.

"You'll need to be transferred again," he said flatly.

Another transfer. Another name. Another place.

Another life.

She turned away from him and watched the blur of buildings pa.s.s. "Will I ever get to be me again?"

She couldn't really remember that woman. A woman who'd been so blind. A woman who, for all purposes, had died three years ago.

"It's just not safe, not until Valentine is in custody."

She didn't speak again. Not until Ross pulled into the long drive that led to her house. "I...ah...left my car at Joe's Cafe." She flushed with this confession. She'd been so shaken that she'd walked all the way from the cafe to the precinct. "Can you get someone to-"

"I'll get someone to bring it to you." He killed the engine. "I want to come in and check the house."

Right. But she didn't move. Her gaze raked the house, the yard.

She'd been living in New Orleans for just over a year. Opened her gallery. Gotten into a seemingly normal routine. She'd even started dating someone.

Now she was supposed to abandon everything. Again.

And do what? Run forever? While more bodies piled up?

No.

"I'm done," she told Ross, and climbed from the SUV. She shut the door on his shocked tumble of words.

Then she began walking toward the house. One determined step after another.

His door opened with a squeak and then slammed behind her. "Kat, Kat-you can't mean this! It's too dangerous! It's-"

She glanced back at him. "Don't call me Kat." Not a weak voice. Cold and flat. "And I'm going to do what I want to do. What I need to do."

No more running.

"If Valentine wants me, then he can come and get me." And stop hurting others. Just-stop!

Gravel crunched beneath Ross's footsteps. "You got some kind of death wish?"

She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I guess I do."

"Holy s.h.i.t." Mac's curse heaved out on a hard sigh. "That's her."

Dane stared down at the computer screen. While he'd been waiting on the Boston PD to fax over the case files, he'd started doing his own research on Valentine.

The Internet was such a handy b.i.t.c.h. With a few clicks of the keyboard, a guy could find almost anything.

Including pictures of one Katelynn Crenshaw. The photo had been snapped by a reporter right after Katelynn discovered her fiance carving up his latest victim.

Right in their bas.e.m.e.nt.

Her hair was longer and blonde in the picture. Her skin golden, and not the pale ivory it had been today. Her body was fuller, filled with lush curves.

But her eyes were the same. No mistaking those eyes. Or her lips.