Fear for Me by Cynthia Eden Page B

his palm on the door.
    Then he heard the lock click.
    His smile was grim. He should have damn well seen that one coming.

    The motorcycle braked in the woods. The only light was from the moon and stars, glittering faintly in the sky.
    Stacy jumped from the bike. Scurried back. “Ben, this isn’t funny.”
    He climbed from the bike. Took off his helmet. Tossed it to the ground as he faced her. “No, it isn’t.”
    Her breath rushed out. Her eyes widened. She stumbled back. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. “Jon?” Then she shook her head. “Y-you shouldn’t be here. The cops—a marshal—was just looking for you!” Her voice trembled with fear.
    She was right to be afraid.
    Then her gaze dropped to the motorcycle. “That’s Ben’s bike.”
    It was. The streak of yellow-and-gold fire rushing down the side was rather distinctive. The fire was set to reflect in the darkness—a rather interesting touch, he had to admit.
    “Where’s Ben?”
    The insects had quieted down. Her stark whisper carried so easily in the night.
    “Ben let me borrow his bike,” he said, unable to stop the smile that slid across his face. This was gonna be so much fun. “But don’t worry about him right now. This is about us, just us.”
    Terror was stamped on her face. She’d never looked at him that way before. Stacy had been the one to get dragged from the courtroom as she shouted his innocence. She’d been the one to tell him, again and again, that the truth would come out eventually.
    The truth had come out. She’d been too blind to see it.
    “What changed?” he asked, actually curious. It wouldn’t alter his plans, nothing would change them, but he did want to know when she’d lost her faith in him.
    Her hand rose to her neck. Fumbled with the small gold chain there. “I found it.”
    “Found what?”
    “That woman’s necklace. Ginger Thomas! You put her necklace in my jewelry box!” She screamed the last at him. There was no one around to hear her screams, but he wouldn’t let her scream for long.
    He shook his head. “I didn’t put the necklace in your box.”
    She shook her head. “You did! You killed those women and you—”
    “I didn’t put the necklace in your box,” he said once more as he closed in on her. Stacy didn’t even try to run. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was fear. His hands locked around her, and he jerked her up against him. “But just so you know, I
did
kill those women.”
    Her mouth dropped in surprise.
    “And I’m going to kill you.”
    She tried to scream. No time for that. His knife sliced across her throat.
    She stared at him, her eyes desperate and wild, as a faint, keening gurgle came from her throat.
    “You shouldn’t have fucked around on me, baby. When I told you that you were mine forever, I meant it.”
    He yanked the knife away and watched her knees buckle. She hit the ground even as her hand rose and tried to stop the blood flow.
    Nothing was going to stop that. While she couldn’t scream any longer, he bent over her.
    He’d known he’d come back for Stacy. To punish her. She’d promised him forever, but she hadn’t even come to visit him in prison. Not once.
    The knife sliced over her arm.
    Not one single visit…
    Another slice.
    Tears poured from her. So did blood.

    It was her cry that woke him. Soft, but scared, it penetrated the light layer of sleep that surrounded Anthony and his eyes flew open. In the next instant, he was on his feet and running for Lauren’s door.
    The sound came again. A gasp, a sob. Hard to tell. He just knew one thing for certain. It was coming from her.
    “Lauren?” He raised his voice. Pounded on the door. “Lauren, open the door.”
    There were no creaks of the floor. No sign that she was coming toward him.
    Another gasp. So weak and whispery.
    He grabbed his gun. Tension had tightened his body. He lifted his foot, and he kicked in the damn door.
    The lock shattered, chunks of wood near the door frame went flying, and the