Karen Rose - Kill for Me

“Just get the damn cuffs off,” she gritted. “Please.”

Pete unlocked the cuffs and rolled her to her back. “The medics are coming.”

“No.” Talia pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Bad enough she got me. I’ll walk out on my own two feet.” Luke and Pete each took one of her arms and lifted her. She grimaced, her cheeks red. “This is humiliating,” she muttered.

“What happened?” Luke asked carefully.

Talia’s glare was defiant. “Bitch got the drop on me. Tasered me.”

“How did she get the drop on you?” Pete asked.

Talia lifted her chin, daring them to push her further. “I had something in my eye.”

Tears, Susannah thought, remembering the hitch in Talia’s voice as she’d offered comfort. “Now the bitch is dead,” Susannah murmured. “So is Germanio.”

Talia’s glare faded abruptly. “I heard. I also heard you on the phone with Luke. That was fast thinking. Luke, get Arthur’s journals out of the study. They explain everything. Pete, get me out of here, please, and make me look like I’m walking on my own.”

Pete helped her out, hesitating before he lifted her over Germanio’s body. “Damn it, Hank,” he murmured. “I’ll update Chase, and get a location on the others.”

“What others?” Susannah asked. “Does he mean Charles Grant? I know about him. It’s all in Arthur’s journals. You didn’t find him?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” Luke asked Susannah.

“Yeah.” Hanging on to the banister, Susannah eased her way past Bobby’s body, resisting the urge to kick her. Luke helped her down the final step, then dragged her close again, arms hard around her. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

“I know.” A shudder shook him. “I just keep seeing her pointing a gun at you, again and again. Susannah, we found some things you need to read.”

“Later,” she said wearily. “I’ve read enough for one day.”

“I’ll take you back to my place. You can have some peace and quiet.”

“I don’t want quiet.” She looked over at Germanio’s body, then quickly looked away. “I don’t want to think. I want… I need supergluing.”

He frowned, puzzled. “What?”

She looked up at him. “Can you take me to your mother’s house, please?”

This made him smile, although his eyes remained worried. “That I can do. Stay here. I’ll get Arthur’s journals, then I’m getting you out of here.” He walked down the hall into the study. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “Susannah, there’s thousands of dollars in this safe.”

“The journals are worth more,” she said. “They’re worth justice,” she added in a murmur, just before her body went rigid, a scream froze in her throat, and a hand clamped over her mouth. A gun was shoved against her temple. Again . Goddammit.

“Which is why those journals will never leave this house.” The words were whispered silkily into her ear. Mr. Grant . “Which is why you’ll never leave this house, my dear.”

Luke went down on one knee to gather the journals from Arthur’s study floor and let his shoulders sag. Oh God. His stomach was rolling. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to wipe from his mind the picture of Susannah clawing up those stairs, Bobby’s gun aimed at her head. She’s safe. He heard the words, but his heart was still thumping to beat all hell. She’s safe. Maybe in a million years, he’d be able to believe it.

Drawing a deep breath, he stood, arms filled with journals and ledgers, then frowned when the sharp smell of gasoline filled his nose. He turned and froze, raw fury rapidly replacing the shock of seeing one more gun pointed at Susannah.

Charles Grant stood in the doorway, his gun to Susannah’s temple. At his side was a gas can. Over his shoulder was a backpack, and Luke could see the outline of sharp corners through the canvas. The bag held a box that appeared to have some weight. Hooked through a strap on the backpack was Grant’s walking stick. A glance down at his feet revealed the same shoes Luke had seen in Mansfield ’s grainy photo.

“Agent Papadopoulos,” he said mildly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home to welcome you this afternoon. Your visit was rudely unannounced.”

Luke’s mind raced. Use what you know. He didn’t look at Susannah. One look at her would leave him shaken with fear. He had to stay focused on Grant. “We didn’t need a guided tour. We found what we were looking for. We know it all, Mr. Grant.”

Charles smiled. “I’m sure you think you do.”

Luke regarded him carefully. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know everything. Like, how the hell you got in here. We have cars guarding the entrance.”

“There’s a road that comes in from the back of the property,” Susannah said quietly.

“It’s how Judge Vartanian would welcome his midnight callers,” Charles said.

“Is that how you intend to get out of here?” Luke asked. “Sneak out the back way like all the other criminals?”

“Not exactly. Drop the journals and place your weapon on the floor.”

He’s waiting for Paul Houston , Luke thought, and hoped to hell Chase still knew where Houston was. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Then she dies.”

“You’re going to kill her anyway. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do.”

“You have no idea what I’ve always wanted to do,” Charles said with contempt.

“I think I do. Because I know a great deal more about you than you think I do.” He paused, lifted a brow. “Ray, isn’t it? Ray Kraemer.”

Charles stiffened, eyes flashing in anger. “Now she’ll die pain- fully.”

“I know you know how to do that. I found Judge Borenson. You’re a sick bastard.”

“Then I have nothing to lose, do I?” Charles asked. “You’ll charge me with murder.”

The man’s voice was mild but the hand that clutched Susannah’s shoulder was white-knuckled. “Multiple murders, Ray,” Luke said. “We found your journals.”

Again Charles’s eyes flashed, but his voice remained calm. “So what’s one more?”

“ You kept journals?” Susannah asked. “You and Arthur were both that arrogant?”

“Perhaps,” Charles said, amused. “Your father was a lawyer. He kept impeccable records. And I am an English teacher, my dear. Journals are kind of my thing.”

“Arthur was not my father and you are a cold-blooded killer,” Susannah said stonily.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Charles drawled. “Killing is an art. A passion. When done well, it’s extremely satisfying.”

“And when you can manipulate others to do your killing for you?” she asked.

“Ahh, now that’s the cherry on top. Agent Papadopoulos. Your weapon.” Charles jabbed the gun harder and Susannah winced, her jaw squaring with pain. “Now.”

Luke knelt, carefully putting the books on the floor. He chanced a glance at Susannah and saw her gray eyes narrowed, watching every move he made. He moved slowly, betting that Grant wouldn’t shoot Susannah, that he planned to use her as a hostage once Paul Houston arrived to take him away.

“You’re stalling, Mr. Grant,” she said. “Or Mr. Kraemer, or whatever your name is. What are you waiting for? You’ve got a gun to my head. Why not just kill me?”

Luke knew she was baiting Charles on purpose. She’d understood Luke’s plan to push the man and was helping. Still her words left his mouth bone dry.

“You want to die, Susannah?” Charles asked smoothly.

“No. But I’m wondering why you seem like you’re… killing time. Instead of me.”

Charles chuckled. “You were as smart as Daniel and much saner than Simon.”