Carla Cassidy - Desperate Measures

“So, you believe the Vigilante Killer is one of four men?”

“I don’t believe that any of the men who got their so-called justice through the Vigilante Killer is guilty. I think the killer is one of the last two men. He’s either Clay Rogers or Adam Kincaid.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Her eyes were lit with an eagerness that made him second-guess his crazy decision to trust her.

Still, he figured in for a penny, in for a pound. “I’ve been thinking about it since Max Clinton was murdered.” An idea had been whirling around in his head since the morning he’d read about Max’s death in the paper. “I know all the murders have happened between midnight and two in the morning, so I figure the only way to identify the killer is to watch these two men during those hours until one of them makes a move.”

“And then what?”

“Once I know for sure who the killer is, then I’ll take him down. Hopefully I can subdue him and then contact the police. I need to get him behind bars.” He frowned. “I think this person likes to kill, Monica. And the carving in the foreheads of his victims speaks of a bloodlust that is absolutely disgusting.”

“I completely agree. There’s only one thing I ask. Once we identify the killer, I want time to break the story before anyone else gets it,” she replied. Her eyes gleamed brightly.

He didn’t miss her use of “we” in her sentence. “I can give you that,” he replied. “But this is something I need to do for myself and there’s no reason for you to get involved in this at all. I’ll let you know when I have confirmation on who the killer is and you’ll have your story.”

“But I am involving myself. I want to be a part of this. Jake, I want to do the surveillance with you,” she protested.

There was one more interruption by the waitress to bring back his receipt and credit card.

“Monica, this could be dangerous,” he said once they were alone again. “Whoever the killer is, the last thing he wants is to get caught. He’s ruthless.”

“I know that, but think about it—two people are better than one. We could do surveillance from your car one night and then from mine the next night to make sure nobody gets suspicious. We can wake each other up if we drift off to sleep.”

He shook his head. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. One of the reasons I told you all this is that I want somebody else to know in case something happens to me.”

“Why would something happen to you?”

“I don’t know, but if this man is as ruthless as I believe him to be, then all the rest of us in the pact are loose ends. If he catches wind that I’m hunting him, then there’s no question he’ll come after me.”

“I still want to be a part of this. I have the two names of the men you think it might be. I’ll just conduct my own surveillance if I’m not doing it with you.” Her chin shot up a notch and her eyes held a definite challenge.

“Don’t make me regret I told you all this,” he said. Damn, he should have never given her the names of the two men he suspected. That had been careless of him.

“Then don’t try to cut me out of the action,” she replied. She reached out and covered his hand with hers, the unexpected pleasant touch sparking an electric jolt in him. “Please, Jake. Don’t try to shut me out of this.” She pulled her hand back. “Why don’t I plan on being at your house tomorrow night at eleven thirty and we can get started.”

“Okay,” he finally relented. The last thing he wanted was for her to go off all half-cocked and either screw things up or get herself killed. He already had enough guilt in his heart to last a lifetime. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

“I am,” she agreed.

He’d already taken care of the tab, so they left the private room, walked through the main dining area and then stepped out into the hot night air.

“Hey, bitch,” a deep voice shouted from behind them.

They both turned and Jake got a quick look at a dark-haired scruffy-looking man standing on the sidewalk. The man raised his hand and threw something.

Jake grabbed her to his chest and whirled her around to protect her as a beer bottle shattered on the sidewalk next to them.

“What the hell?” With Monica behind him he turned to confront the man. But he was gone, the sound of his running feet on the pavement letting Jake know the man was retreating. A few moments later a car door slammed in the distance and then a car roared by them.

“Bitch!” the man yelled out of the window as he drove by.

“What was that all about?” he turned and asked Monica.

“That was Larry Albright. He’s a local contractor I did an exposé on a couple of days ago. He had ripped off dozens of homeowners, mostly elderly people, by telling them they needed new roofs. He then not only overcharged them but also used substandard materials. Needless to say, he’s not happy with my reporting.”

“What’s he doing? Stalking you?” Jake asked in alarm.

“Apparently that’s what he did tonight.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No, I don’t think he’s a real threat to me. And in any case, he’s been charged with half a dozen crimes and he was released on his own recognizance. He knows one phone call to the police from me and he’ll wind up in jail to await his trial. He’s just blowing off some steam. And now, thank you for dinner, and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He watched as she walked to her car. She looked gorgeous with the last gasp of sunlight playing in her dark hair. She walked with a sexy confidence despite the height of her heels.

Still, no matter how attractive he found her, no matter how eager she was or how much he implicitly trusted her, he couldn’t help but feel this whole situation just might have disaster written all over it.

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