Page 35 of Killer Knows Best

I stiffen, contemplating how much time I might do for an “accidental misfire” that nicks him in the heart, but before I can act, Jack’s growl rumbles from across the room.

My eyes flit to him with Karen draped on his arm, and as another woman tries to paw at his shoulder and nibble on his ear, but his eyes are locked on me and the man circling my body like a shark.

Jealousy is alive and well in his hostile stare, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. I take a moment to memorize this version of Jack Stone, the untouchable FBI agent, shooting daggers at a man for daring to get too close to me.

Still, the man next to me hasn’t gotten the memo. His hands snake toward my waist, and his lips inch closer to mine. The booze on his breath lets me know he can fuel a rocket to Mars, and it’s all I can do not to fracture a few of his ribs.

But judging by the fury growing on Jack’s face, I won’t have to.

In a blink, Jack is next to us, and before I can fully register the movement, his fist connects with the guy’s jaw with a deafening crack. The man staggers back, crashing to the floor as he clutches his face.

A series of gasps erupt as Jack whips out his badge and thunders, “Everybody freeze! FBI!”

And just like that, the mansion descends into chaos.

24

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

Karen Holt’s high heels hardly touch the ground before I spot her making a run for it. Panic flares in her eyes, and it makes my blood pressure spike.

The mission was simple: don’t spook her too much. We still need to provide enough solid evidence to lock her up. But here we are. She’s spooked and I’m ticked.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I bark, lunging for her. I all but tackle the woman to the ground, before grabbing the back of her skimpy dress and dragging her outside by the arm. She flails like a cat in a bathtub, but I’ve got her in a vise grip. She’s not going anywhere.

Jack follows close behind with his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

Cars peel away from the driveway as the area quickly evolves into the world’s ritziest getaway scene. All that remains is the sharp screech of tires and the faint trail of exhaust curling into the icy night air.

Before long, it’s just Jack, Karen, and I alone in the shadow of a glorious stone fountain that rises at least fifteen feet into the sky. The moon reflects off the water, casting anotherworldly glow over our faces. It’s easy to see that the fountain in question is the centerpiece of the sprawling front lawn. The massive marble structure has a statue of a woman standing at the top with her arms stretched wide, the opposite of Jesus the Redeemer—more like Karen the Madame.

Although it seems too perfect to be any such thing, too smooth, like everything in Crimson Heights. The water dances in arcs around her, splashing down with a gentle roar and creates a soothing backdrop to the tension buzzing in the air.

“Karen—” I start as Jack and I all but cage the woman between us. She could run, but she wouldn’t get far.

“Kiki,” she kisses my way.

“Fine,” Jack says, stepping in and towering over the woman, his face set in that stoic yet angry expression he’s mastered. “We’ve got a few questions for you,Kiki.”

Her breathing grows shallow. Her chest heaves under her tight dress, but her eyes dart between us, calculating how far she’d have to run to get away from us, and how fast. She’s not accounting for the bullets, of course. People rarely do.

Just as Jack opens his mouth again, we hear footsteps trotting in this direction. Nikki shows up laughing while dressed in a black sparkling frock as if she’s walking into a cocktail party instead of a takedown.

“Youknew,” I say, narrowing my eyes on the woman designated to have my back. There’s no question in my voice. Nikki knew this circus was waiting for us. And now I know exactly why she opted to show up late. She knew she’d be right on time for the important part. And, if we’re honest, she may have gotten too carried away with the unimportant part that took place inside.

Nikki isn’t about teasing or being teased. She’s a touchdown kind of a girl, a running all the bases on opening night kind of agirl, and a girl who always finishes what she starts. Sort of like me, but just on that last point.

“You knew they were swingers,” Jack says with a laugh buried in his throat. I’m glad someone is amused.

“What?” She winks my way as she shoves her hands into her pockets. “You think I’d miss the fun? Never.”

Jack shoots her a look, a silent demand to get serious, but Nikki just shrugs and looks over at Karen,Kiki, who’s shaking off the initial shock. She smooths out her dress and rolls her eyes.

“Can we get this over with? What’s this about?” Karen’s voice wavers, and for a second, a very real fear flickers in her gaze. She knows exactly what she’s done and for how long she can be prosecuted for it.

“We want to know if you knew Delaney Riggs or Gwen Alderson,” Jack says, leaning in just enough to make it clear we’re not here for a casual chat or a round two of whatever it is she was offering him. All I know is that it was about to commence with a lap dance and she was going to enjoy the heck out of it.

“Delaney and Gwen? Oh, that.” She lets out a sigh of relief as if she thought we’d ask about something far worse. She’s naïve if she thinks we’re stopping there, but I’ll let her believe it. A content suspect beats one that squirms and therebywormstheir way out of the truth.

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