Page 39 of Strictly Forbidden

I’d heard men’s weaknesses called kryptonite and had laughed like they really were idiots. But the truth was impossible to ignore.

She was my kryptonite.

Damn the woman for having a voluptuous body, eyes that could pierce the heart and soul of any man. And a lilting voice that had remained with me long after she spoke even a single word. I shifted my feet on the ottoman, easing back into the chair. I had her book in one hand, a whiskey in the other. The fire in the stone fireplace was blazing and I was miles from civilization with enough food and booze to keep me happy for a solid month.

What the fuck could be better?

I’d been smart to hire a caretaker for my cabin in the woods, the guy paying close attention to details. I’d already wired him a bonus since from the moment I’d stepped foot inside the front door, it was as if I’d never left. He’d even purchased a few items he’d thought I’d needed, whiskey one of them.

Eventually, I’d need to get to my grandfather’s cabin and investigate if I wanted to keep or sell the place. But for now, it was nestled away in a little house still in the valley, a location no one knew about, and in my mind, that was worth its weight in gold.

Just in case.

I wasn’t the kind of man to constantly look over my shoulder, but I doubted Saldono Rinaldi wanted my freedom shouted to the world. We would see. As of the last week since I’d been paroled, I’d had no phone calls and no suspicious sightings. For now, I was snug as a bug in a rug, or so my mother used to say as she tucked me in at night.

What I found utterly fascinating about Noel’s book was that it was easy for a brutal man like me to immerse myself in her world. I could slide into the killer’s mind easily, becoming his eyes as he stalked his prey. I’d become more and more curious about what had obviously happened to her, although I’d yet to find anything concrete.

That’s why I’d called a buddy of mine, a man still on the right side of the law, although some would say otherwise. While in my heyday I’d had people to hack into various computer systems, or I could do it myself, the time spent behind bars had changed everything. So I’d called in the expert, the man owing me more than a single favor.

Mostly because I’d saved his scrawny life not once but twice.

I had to think about developing a plan, trying to figure out who I could trust and who I should stay away from. That was daunting in itself given everyone was hiding something, so many people selling their souls for money or clout.

As I read a couple more pages, I found my mind floating to the fear I’d seen in her eyes more than once. Whatever had occurred had altered her vision of the world to the point she was close to becoming a hermit. Yes, I understood an author’s life was solitary, but she truly didn’t enjoy being out in public. That was easy to tell. I was thankful she had Max. The furry guy had turned out to be a godsend to two people. Hell, maybe he was a real angel.

I laughed softly and when I heard my phone, I was surprised. Getting reception where I was located deep in the heart of a thick forest only occurred when the moon was full, the sky was clear, and the leprechauns were working overtime. I chuckled as I placed the book on the ottoman, rising to my feet.

Even walking to the phone was a reminder of her. I’d wanted to call Noel so many times. I’d known what would happen if I did and in truth, she was much better off without me.

As soon as I grabbed the phone, I grinned. Maybe Kyle had come through.

“Kyle Tatum. As I live and breathe,” I said by way of greeting.

“Cut the crap, Kage,” he grumbled.

“It’s nice to hear from you too.”

“As if I had any other choice. You’re a bastard. Do you know that?”

“So I’ve been told more than once. Did you find something?”

Kyle hesitated. “This is a fucked-up case, buddy. Parts of it are sealed not only because information is being used for the trial since the fucker was finally caught but the lone survivor still has a target on her back. Why they didn’t put her in full WITSEC is beyond me other than she’s a famous author. She did leave her hometown and from what I understand, neither her address nor her car registration is on the books. She changed her last name but Christ, a four-year-old who knows his way around a computer could find it. From what I can tell, the Feds pulled some strings for her. But I can’t believe she went on book tours and shit when that guy was still out there.”

“Most serial killers will move on by then. They don’t want to get caught and whoever this fuck is knew it was a possibility if he went after her again. Plus, book signings are very public. And some victims refuse to play that their entire lives.”

“Sounds like you know a little too much about serial killers.”

My hackles immediately raised. Fuck. Fuck. “Who is this fuck and what did he do?”

His snort was full of disgust. “Bad shit, man. I’ve seen and read about some fucked-up shit in my time with the FBI, but this dude takes the cake. His name is James Jones. Otherwise known as the Claw. He abducted like nine women, taking them to a deserted group of buildings in one of those dying little towns where no one pays any attention to shit. He caged them, hung up by the rafters, torturing them for days, weeks, months at a time, before using a makeshift claw to cut them to ribbons.”

“And one woman escaped.”

“Yeah, against all fucking odds since she was hurt, bleeding, weak from lack of food, and miles away from anyone. I’ll give her credit. She found a weapon and spiked him a couple times. Too bad he lived. Hopefully she is living a happy little life after all this time.”

“So where does the author’s work come into the case?”

“Did I say that?” Kyle huffed.

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