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“How about I take you to dinner—maybe tomorrow night—to celebrate?”
She smiled. “How about you do?”
It took nearly three weeks for the mating dance to end up at dinner at her place. It gave him an opportunity to study the layout and get a few minutes with the desktop in her office.
She wanted sex, and that was fine, not unexpected. He could handle it, could get hard imagining the kill.
Plus, she had a laptop in her bedroom, so he gained two points of access.
He met her grandparents, ate barbecued ribs on their deck. And since they just laid the opportunity out there, he took it, uploaded his program into the old man’s office computer.
No reason not to add to his take with a chunk of their investment account.
He’d just add a couple of days onto his schedule.
It only took a month, and he’d given himself two. After securing the loans as Quinn Loper, banking the take, he drained her accounts, sweetened it with a hundred K from her grandfather.
He thought about killing the grandparents, but he couldn’t find the thrill in it. Instead, he found the thrill imagining their shock, their tears after he’d killed their beloved granddaughter.
He slipped into their house while they slept—they left the windows open to hear the ocean.
Idiots.
He removed his program, slipped out again.
Quinn didn’t leave the windows open, but her front door lock was a joke.
He moved through the darkened house, into the bedroom where she slept. He was tempted to wake her up first so she’d have more time to know what was happening, more time to feel it, fear it.
But she worked out, and he knew she’d put up a fight.
So he eased onto the bed, pinned her arms under his knees. Her eyes popped open when he closed his hands over her throat.
She couldn’t make a sound, not more than a peep, but she bucked, tried to roll.
“You’re just another whore.” Tighter, tighter, cutting off the air, watching her eyes roll. “You think you’re special, but you’re not. I’m making you nothing.”
Her mouth gaped open as she fought for air, beneath his hold on her arms, her fingers clawed at the sheets. Her heels drummed.
“I took everything I wanted, do you understand? Your house, your business. It’s all mine now, and nothing you ever did will matter because now you’re nothing.”
She stopped struggling and convulsed. Even in the dim light, he saw the life drain out of her eyes.
And she was nothing; and he was a god.
Oh, the thrill. It coursed through him, hot, bright, strong.
But not, he realized, perfect.
She’d been good, much, much better than Fat Ass New Orleans, but not perfect.
Nothing would reach perfect again, until he finished Morgan.
Out of his pocket he took the bracelet he’d found in Morgan’s drawer, and he slipped it on Quinn’s wrist.
“Here, you can have this. I want to remind her I’m coming for her.”
He took the keys to the Mercedes, drove it the short distance to his rental to load up the luggage he’d already packed. Just as he’d already shaved, as he’d already dyed his hair black and generated a new identity.
