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Digging around in his coat, he found the lock pick he always carried and let himself into the building. He waltzed in like he owned the place, right past a bewildered-looking family. They eyed him up and down, and the mother squeezed her baby a little closer as they hurried past him.
The door slammed behind them as he walked toward the stairs. “Nothin’ to worry about folks,” he muttered under his breath. “Just your friendly, neighborhood wolf hunter.”
He sniffed the air. The smell of her perfume lingered, mixed with something he couldn’t quite identify, but the familiar trace tormented him. He followed the scent of gardenias up two flights and to the second apartment on the left.
Was he really going to do this? Drag her into this?
He knocked hard. “Francesca?”
He listened for a long moment, but no one answered. He let out a loud sigh and pounded on the wood again. “Hey, Princess, you in there?”
He rocked back and forth on his heels, not sure whether he was praying she wouldn’t answer or whether she would open the door and make it easy on him. With all his senses on edge and his adrenaline pumping, he knew she was home. But there was another scent mixed with hers. The rank smell of…
Damn it.
Jace smashed open the door and burst into the room with his Mateba pulled and ready to fire. The door hit the wall in an echoing bang. He charged through the entryway and tightened his finger on the trigger. He would blow the fucker’s head off.
A small sniffle came from the middle of the room and Jace’s eyes locked onto the woman he already thought of as his. She was sitting on the floor with her legs tucked underneath her, clutching a broken picture frame. The shattered glass cut into her hands, and drops of her blood speckled the hardwood.
Holy hell.
He holstered his gun and stood at her side. “Are you okay?”
She gave a small nod. Clutching the broken frame tighter, she glanced to the wall and back to the mess around her.
The apartment was trashed. Pieces of broken glass, torn fluff and splintered wood from the furniture were scattered everywhere. Jace walked to the wall and saw what she’d been looking at. Dried blood. The words that monster had written there read:Take it like a bitch.
Taped underneath was a professional, full-length photograph of Francesca with two people whose faces had been scribbled over with a permanent marker, blacking them out. Pasted over her photographed body were pictures of torn flesh from the original crime scene photos, a way of making sure she knew how she would look after the killer got hold of her.
After her death.
Jace ripped down the picture and examined it more closely. He knew each victim whose bodies had been pasted over hers.
He stared at Princess sitting on the floor, a look that was half-violation, half-rage contorting her face. Though she didn’t fit the usual profile, he was sure she knew that monster intended to make her his next victim. Jace had made a huge mistake in so many different ways. Sleeping with her. Involving her. He needed to fix this. He would not let that psycho destroy any more lives. Especially hers.
“Was the room like this when you showed up?” he said.
Her hands trembled as she nodded.
Jace’s anger peaked, like a bomb ready to explode. “No one hurts my girl.”
Mine.The beast inside him snarled.
Jace froze. Whoa. Where the hell hadthatthought come from? Not to mention what he’d said.He shook his head. No, she wasn’this. “He’s not going to hurt you, Princess. Not over my dead body. I’ll rise from the grave to drag his ass down to hell. You got me?”
“I don’t need anyone to protect me,” she said without looking at him.
Her eyes widened, and all the color washed from her face. But then her mouth drew taut with underlying anger. His arms itched to wrap around her. He wanted to torture the SOB who’d done this.
“My parents…” She opened her mouth to say more, but nothing came out.
His attention captured, he asked, “What about your parents?”
“The photograph.” Raising her bloodied right hand, she pointed to the picture he was holding, barely able to speak around her rage.
His palms clenched into fists, and he swallowed down a feral growl. “Where are they? Did that damn psychopath go after them, too?”
“No, my….my parents died in a car accident five years ago.” She stopped trembling, and some of her color returned to her cheeks. Her eyes glazed over, masking her emotions as she collected herself.
