Kathryn looked up at the man leaning against the frame of her bedroom door, his crazed eyes fixed on her, looking her up and down. “Artie? How did you get in here?”
He jingled a pair of keys in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting for you. For days now. The last time we were interrupted. This time,” he held up a knife—the largest from her butcher block, “it’s just you and me. And just in case you manage to slip away,” he opened his jacket, displaying a gun in a shoulder holster, “I’ve got you covered.”
He doesn’t know Jake and Scott are here. Calming herself, she asked, “What do you want?”
His menacing glare moved from her to the knife in his hands. “Don’t you know?”
That you’re a whack-job stalker? No clue, but you being at both the restaurants I was at should have been a big freaking red flag.
Slowly, she shook her head.
“I want what any man would want. At first, just to fuck you, then kill you. But now . . .” He pressed the knife to the comforter, dragging it down the bed and slicing through the fabric.
Her heart pounding, she said, “You don’t have to—”
“You’re a hard person to find, even with the military grade tracker I hid in your purse. You kept vanishing into thin air, but you always came back out of your little hiding place. And I was right there. Watching you while you teased me. In your shower. Slowly stripping at that spa. Fucking that guy right in front of me.”
“Art, we can—”
“You know what I’d like right now? I’d like you to call me by my name.” The flat blade of the knife was at her cheek. “Come on, Kathryn. Let’s see how much you’ve figured out. Everyone thinks my first name is Arthur. But you’re too smart for that, aren’t you?” His eyes turned cold. “Say it.”
The realization was instant, forcing her eyes shut. Her throat dry, she could only whisper, shuddering as she said, “Carter.”
“See, I knew you had it. Now, this is why I need to take my time. Which should be fun for both of us, since you’re into that, right? Someone tying you up and beating the shit out of you while they fuck you?”
Uncontrollably, her head shook.
He snatched a fistful of her hair, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Do you have any idea what a senior-ranking enlisted man makes in retirement? Pennies,” he shouted. “I gave twenty-four years of my life to the military. Been in war zones over a dozen times. Medals upon medals that didn’t add up to shit in the real world. But I found the fatal flaw in the system, and the money rolled in. See, I had brains, and a few friends who never had an issue with killing. The way I never had issues with killing.”
He let the knife gleam before her eyes. “It’s your turn to suffer. You destroyed everything I worked for. Recruiting. Building. Finding the perfect marks. Moving the money. Funding the fucking premiums out of my own pocket. Making sure people died when they were supposed to. Years and years of work. And you, asking people questions, and writing down every word in that fucking notebook.” He gripped her hair tighter and yanked at her head. “Where is it?”
The tip of the knife poked through her shirt, pricking her skin.
A loud knock came from the corridor. “Hello?” rang through the condo.
Scott.
The knife pressed, the sharp blade forcing a gasp from her throat as she thought fast. “I left the garage open. They’re delivering my new laptop. It needs a signature.” When Art hesitated, she shouted, “Just a minute. You need a signature for the laptop, right?”
Silence.
She swallowed hard, forcing every breath in and out.
Come on, Scott. Please . . . you’ve got to have a hunch. Trust your gut feeling.
A moment later, the voice boomed from the door. “Yes, ma’am. Just a quick signature, and I’ll be on my way.”
Art’s eyes shifted back and forth, as if processing it all. He jerked her arm. “Try anything, and you’ll be the reason this guy dies too.”
When she nodded solemnly, he released her arm, whispering in her ear, “I’m right behind you.”
Delaney stood outside the front door she’d left ajar, wearing his sunglasses and holding a box—the empty laptop box from the last delivery.
Slowly, she approached the door, very aware of the sting of the knife at her side.
Irate, Delaney shifted from foot to foot as he huffed. “Lady, listen I’m trying to be patient, but I don’t got all day. Can you sign, already?” When she paused at the cracked door, he looked up as if rolling his eyes. “Seriously, I’m not allowed in. You’re gonna have to open this a little wider.”
Glancing back at Art, she waited.
Delaney’s voice boomed. “Today, lady!”
Art’s nudge at her shoulder was all she needed.
The second she pulled the door open wider, Delaney yanked her outside, tossing her behind him as Jake stormed past them into the condo.
Frantic at the scuffle she heard inside, she shouted, “Jake!”
With his weapon drawn, Delaney gave her a stern look as he shouted, “Stay here! Backup’s on the way.” Then he pushed his way into the condo.
Panicked, she screamed, “But he’s got a—”
Her warning was interrupted by the sharp, unforgiving crack of a gunshot.