Don't Look

by Alexandra Ivy

  Kir’s gut clenched with fury. It’d been difficult when he thought his father had died in an accident. It was brutally hard to accept that he’d been murdered by this worthless piece of scum. “You think you’re an artist?”

  “Of course, it might not be everyone’s taste, but you have to admit there’s a drama in the bodies I displayed for your pleasure.” Parker leaped forward, stabbing the knife toward the center of Kir’s chest.

  Kir jumped to the side, longing to smash his fist into the center of Parker’s face. It was only the knowledge that the man was deliberately taunting him that allowed Kir to ruthlessly crush his blast of anger. Emotions were the enemy right now. He had to think with crystal clarity if he was going to survive until help arrived.

  “No one took pleasure in your sick displays.” Kir curled his lips into a sneer, edging back toward the tunnel. “And it doesn’t take any skill to drug vulnerable women, or to throw a helpless old man down the stairs.”

  “You would know Rudolf wasn’t harmless if you ever bothered to visit him,” Parker countered, twirling the knife with the ease of a man who’d practiced that particular skill. Then, with the speed of a striking snake, he slashed toward Kir’s face. “What kind of son abandons his father when he needs him the most?”

  Kir dropped to his hands and knees, hearing the whistle of the knife just above his head. Shit. He was going to have to get out of there before he was turned into a shish kebab.

  But how?

  He might be able to overpower Parker and wrench the knife from his fingers, but the man was stronger than Kir had expected. He wasn’t sure he could get the upper hand before the blade was sticking out of his heart.

  What he needed was a distraction so he could make a run for it.

  It wasn’t until a sharp shard of cement cut into his palm that he was hit with inspiration. Clenching his teeth, Kir tightened his fingers around the broken piece of cement, then twisting his torso, he threw it directly at the overhead light.

  The fluorescent bulbs burst in a shower of glass, plunging the room into a deep, impenetrable darkness. Exactly what Kir needed.

  Remaining on his hands and knees, he crawled away from Parker. Immediately he heard the scrape of the man’s boots as he moved to block his escape to the tunnel. He’d already expected that. He intended to lead Parker toward the main entrance before circling back. It was his only hope of escape.

  “You can’t hide forever,” Parker called out, frustration in his voice.

  “And you didn’t answer my question,” Kir answered in a loud voice. He needed the man to follow him.

  Parker paused, as if considering whether he was being led into a trap. Then at last he stepped toward Kir.

  “Because he broke the rules of the game,” the man said.

  Kir shuffled backward, the rough cement bruising his knees. “The game?”

  “Yes, the one we’d been playing since he shot my father.”

  “How did he break the rules?”

  “This is my personal lair.” Without warning, Parker kicked out, managing to connect with Kir’s ribs. “This is my Fortress of Solitude. Just like Superman had. This is the place I come to be alone with my dark fantasies and plan my revenge.”

  Kir grunted, rolling to the side a mere second before the knife scraped against the cement just inches from his hand. Refusing to consider how close he’d come to having the blade in his back, Kir instead concentrated on Parker’s words. He could easily see the man down here, hiding like a spider as he brooded on the past and scratched down his list of . . .

  “The list,” Kir muttered, surging to his feet and scurrying backward. His cheek was on fire and he suspected at least one rib was cracked, but he needed to be ready to run toward the tunnel.

  “Do you have it? I was afraid . . .” Parker made an impatient sound. “Where is it?”

  “My father sent it to me,” Kir smoothly lied. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to die because of the stupid thing.

  Parker’s footsteps crunched toward Kir, the blade whistling through the air. “Liar.”

  “Did my father know you were the killer?” Kir demanded, leaping to the side to avoid the man’s determined slashing.

  “I assumed he did. One day I noticed that my list was missing. I checked the video from my cameras, and I discovered your father had intruded into my lair days before and pawed through my papers.”

  Kir silently reconstructed what had happened. His father must have been fishing and noticed something at the air base that stirred his curiosity enough to enter and find the list. No doubt he’d gone to the sheriff, who ignored his warnings, and then decided to investigate on his own. He couldn’t have known Parker had caught him on a security camera.

  That explained why it’d taken a few days between Rudolf handing the list to Pastor Bradshaw and falling down the stairs. Kir wiped the blood from his cheek as he battled his urge to howl in frustration. If only . . .

  The thick darkness only emphasized Kir’s wave of bleak despair. As if it were a living force that was sucking away his will to continue his futile fight. Then, with an effort, Kir forced himself to concentrate on the sound of Parker’s movements. Dammit, he was going to end up dead if he didn’t keep himself focused.

  “You killed my father because he trespassed?” he demanded in sharp tones.

  There was a pause, as if Parker was surprised Kir hadn’t curled in a ball of fear. Did the lunatic sense the evil that pulsed through the frigid air? Or was he the cause of the evil?

  “I went to his house to confront him. It wasn’t until I demanded the list that I realized he hadn’t known it belonged to me,” Parker at last revealed. “Then it was too late. I had to silence him.”

  Parker was still speaking when he struck out, but this time he didn’t slash with the knife. He instead kicked out. Kir managed to dodge a direct blow, and even got in a kick of his own. Parker grunted as Kir’s foot slammed into his knee.

  “Silence him by breaking his skull?” Kir demanded, feeling something icy on his nape. A breeze. He was close to the entrance.

  “You have no idea how painful his death has been to me,” Parker protested, managing to sound genuinely aggrieved. As if he wasn’t the one who’d thrown Rudolf down the stairs. “Unlike you, I truly cared about your father.”

  Kir ignored the man’s false pity as he came to a halt. The sound of Parker’s footsteps had moved to the side. Was he trying to cut him off? Or was he hoping to flee through the exit and go in search of Lynne?

  Either way, Kir sensed things were about to happen. He needed to be ready.

  “And Rita?” he asked, determined to keep the conversation going so he could pinpoint Parker’s exact location.

  It felt as if they were in a standoff, neither willing to make the first move. Eventually something, or someone, was going to break.

  “That bitch,” Parker spat out. “She should never have stolen those letters from the grave. They were private.”

  “You ran her over?”

  Parker chuckled. “Like a dog.”

  Kir hissed at the mocking words. The pig. The cruel, evil-hearted pig.

  “You can’t silence everyone,” he rasped.

  “There’s just you. And Lynne,” Parker assured him. “Then I’ll disappear and become someone new. It was my plan all along.”

  Kir clenched his muscles, prepared to make his dash toward the tunnel across the room. “Have you heard the saying about the best-laid plans?”

  “Yes.”

  Without warning a brilliant flare of light flooded the room. As if the sun had suddenly crashed into the air base. Kir blinked, momentarily blinded by the high bay lights that flared to garish life.

  “Which is why I always have a backup,” Parker drawled.

  Narrowing his eyes, which felt as if they were being stabbed by the harsh glow, Kir belatedly realized Parker had dropped his knife and was holding a handgun.

  “Shit.” He lunged to the side as the deafenin
g explosion reverberated through the vast space.

  Kir hit the ground, the breath knocked from his lungs. His rib ached and his face still burned, but he didn’t have a bullet in his head. He was going to take that as a win.

  Unfortunately, he doubted he would be so lucky the next time. Already his vision was starting to clear. Which meant Parker’s vision would be clearing as well.

  Rolling to the side, he planted his hands flat on the cement and then shoved himself upward. He glanced back even as he bent low and prepared to race toward the tunnel.

  What he saw halted him in his tracks.

  Parker was standing near the main entrance to the control room, his arm still lifted with the gun clutched in his hand. But he wasn’t looking at Kir. Instead he was reaching up with his free hand to grab the long silver tube sticking out of his neck just above his scarf. Kir frowned. What was that thing? It wasn’t until it dropped to the ground with a clatter that he remembered where he’d seen it before.

  A dart. Only this one was twice the size of the ones he’d seen in Lynne’s clinic.

  Swiveling his head, he caught sight of Lynne standing at the edge of the tunnel with what looked like a rifle in her hand. That’s why she’d been so eager to get to her truck, he acknowledged with a flare of pride. She’d known she had the tranquilizer gun in there.

  Shaking off his strange sense of unreality, Kir turned back toward Parker. The man was grimly moving his arm to point his gun in Lynne’s direction, his actions sluggish but still deadly. Without hesitation Kir leaped forward, planting his shoulder in the middle of the bastard’s chest as he drove him to the ground.

  Parker collapsed like a limp doll, the drugs Lynne had shot into him taking full effect. But just to be sure—okay, it was just because he couldn’t resist temptation—Kir untangled himself from Parker’s limp arms and sat up. Then, not bothering to check if he was awake or unconscious, he slammed his fist directly into the middle of Parker’s face.

  Bones crunched as the man’s nose was broken and blood spurted from a split lip. Feeling amazingly better, Kir turned his head to send Lynne a wide smile.

  “Good shot.”

  Epilogue

  Although it was mid-April, spring was more a promise than a reality as Lynne slipped out of Kir’s SUV. At least the snow had melted. A good thing, since she had on heels for the first time in years. And she’d replaced her heavy parka with a light shawl that matched her beaded black gown.

  Waiting for Kir to join her, she took a moment to appreciate the sight of him attired in an exquisite tailored suit that had arrived with the rest of his belongings from his condo in Boston. Right now the majority of his stuff was piled in his father’s house, but Lynne knew it was a temporary arrangement. Already Kir was sketching out blueprints for a new home to be built on his grandfather’s land. It was a huge, sprawling farmhouse that included five bedrooms, an enclosed conservatory, and a fenced meadow that would be perfect for kids and pets, including King, who’d become a permanent fixture in her home. He warned her that he hoped to have several of each.

  Warmth spread through her as she allowed her gaze to sweep over his starkly male features and hard body shown to perfection in the dark suit. She’d expected him to disappear after the sheriff had finally arrived at the air base and Parker had been hauled away. Now that the killer was locked up and the mystery of the list left to Kir by his father was solved, there was no reason for him to remain in Pike.

  But he had.

  Each morning Lynne woke to find herself wrapped tightly in his arms. And each night she came home to discover a warm meal waiting for her.

  It was . . . paradise.

  Slowly, cautiously, she began to trust in his promise that he was there to stay. Just as she began to depend on his companionship to fill the emptiness that had been a part of her life as long as she could remember.

  The only disruption in the smooth, welcome peace of Lynne’s life was Kir’s secret project.

  She knew he was working on something he promised would help raise funds for her shelter, but he refused to explain what he was doing or allow her to help. It tested her control-freak personality to the very limit of her endurance. At last he’d told her to buy a new evening gown and get ready for her surprise.

  Not sure what to expect, she allowed Kir to lead her up the stairs of the local VFW hall. The three-story brick building was the only spot in town that had a large enough space for a decent-size crowd to gather. Unless you counted the community center at the lake, a place that could only be used a couple months out of the year.

  They entered through the double oak doors and climbed the stairs to the top floor. Stepping into the long, narrow room, Lynne came to a startled halt.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed. The room had been transformed from a plain space with wood paneling and a low ceiling to a spring fairyland with twinkling lights draped from the ceiling and trellises decorated with her favorite pale pink roses lining the walls. At the very back a long table had been arranged with uniformed servers offering plates of hors d’oeuvres and fluted glasses of champagne.

  It wasn’t the decorations, however, that made her breath catch in her throat. “Kir.” She sent him a startled glance. “This is your definition of a little fundraiser?”

  He sent her a wicked smile. “What did you expect?”

  “Bake sales. Car washes.” She turned back to study the mingling crowd stuffed into the room. There had to be at least two hundred people who were all dressed in their finest clothes. And while she’d never rubbed elbows with the most powerful citizens of Wisconsin, she recognized faces that she’d seen on television. “Not senators and corporate CEOs.”

  Kir shrugged. “Bake sales aren’t really my style.”

  “I don’t know.” She sent him a small smile. “You make a mean cheesecake.”

  “True,” he readily agreed. “But senators and CEOs bring in more money than cheesecake.”

  She returned her attention to the crowd. Was that woman in the corner an anchor for a major network? Lynne was certain she’d seen her on the late-night news. More importantly, Monica and Grady were there, all healed up from being knocked unconscious by Parker, along with a beaming Bernadine, who was now a full-time receptionist at the clinic.

  “How did you convince so many people to come?” she asked.

  “You are a very popular person in Pike.”

  She snorted. “Not this popular.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, my dear.”

  “I’m a realist. I doubt the senator who is currently eating a shrimp cocktail has ever heard my name.”

  “I have a wide web of connections from my business,” Kir said in a casual tone. As if everyone could pick up the phone and gather prominent citizens from the upper Midwest. “And the fact that we recently survived the local serial killer didn’t hurt. Everyone wants to meet us.” He paused, touching the scar that was starting to fade from his cheek. A visible reminder of his encounter with Parker Bowen. “And of course, to catch sight of this beauty.”

  Lynne instinctively pressed against Kir’s side. He was the rock she had grown accustomed to leaning on. It was a wondrous feeling.

  “So they’re here because we’re notorious?”

  “A few of them.”

  Lynne shuddered. “I’d be offended if this wasn’t for the sanctuary.”

  Since Parker’s arrest she’d done her best to throw herself into work. She didn’t want to think about how many hours she’d spent with the smooth, charming journalist when he’d been plotting her death. Or the pain and terror he’d caused to the people of Pike. She didn’t even want to consider Rudolf Jansen’s brutal end.

  It would take time to process the destruction that had started with Delbert Frey and the torture of his son. The evil man had created a monster who had nearly destroyed them all. For now it was enough that they were alive.

  Kir wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “We can leave if you want. I’m sure we’ll
make enough from the door tickets alone to be able to hire extra help and expand the kennels.”

  Lynne wondered how much Kir was charging for the tickets even as she tilted her chin to a defiant angle. “No, I need to face this.”

  Kir frowned down at her. “If you’re trying to prove your courage to me, let me assure you it’s not necessary,” he told her. “Not only did you face down a serial killer, but when you could have fled to safety, you instead returned to shoot the bastard.”

  Lynne blushed at the warm pride in his voice. It was ridiculous. She hadn’t done anything special. When Kir had yelled out that her truck was in the lot, she’d known exactly what she had to do. In fact, she couldn’t believe how stupid Parker had been to drive her truck instead of his van, although she supposed he was worried someone might catch sight of the vehicle and realize he was at the air base.

  Still, it’d taken less than five minutes to run up to the parking lot and grab her long-range gun. She used it on cattle or horses that were in the pasture and too skittish to get close to. Or occasionally deer that the local conservation department wanted to test for disease. After grabbing her rifle, she’d syringed enough sedatives into the dart to put down an elephant and headed back down to the bunker. The dosage was potentially lethal to humans, but Lynne didn’t care. She wanted Parker knocked out as quickly as possible.

  “It isn’t about courage,” she insisted. “It’s about accepting the past so we can move on to the future.”

  “I’m good with that.” He lowered his head to brush his lips across her forehead. Then straightening, he swept a searching gaze over her upturned face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She started to nod, then sent him a rueful smile. Kir had a sixth sense. He always knew when she was lying, which wasn’t the most comfortable talent to have in a partner.