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Leech paced the confines of his new prison. Ironic that freedom had turned into a bit of a drag. The New England winter was cold and dank, and he wanted to be away from it, feel the sun on his flesh, sand between his toes. He had one more score to settle, and he wouldn’t rest until he’d taken care of the woman who had lied about him, disparaged and insulted him, both on and off the stand.

Who said he didn’t know how to follow through?

He’d taken a risk last night, but it had been worth it in the end, especially when he’d seen her face in the back of that SUV. He’d also known it had been time to run when her eyes had widened as they’d locked onto him. He’d enjoyed sprinting through that alley, heart pounding at the thought of her bodyguards in pursuit. Then he’d driven calmly away without anyone spotting him.

He’d felt alive! Which was one thing he never felt in prison.

He didn’t like being betrayed by people he thought he could trust. Nor did he like being called names or labeled by people who only wanted him for his money. He wasn’t that scared little boy hiding in the closet anymore. He was the monster under the bed.

He picked up the hunter’s knife he’d found in the drawer. Ran his thumb over the tip and felt the sting of the edge. A droplet of blood bloomed, ruby rich.

He sucked his thumb. He imagined Hope’s silky blonde hair spread out on a pillow. He imagined a single drop of blood marring the white satin. Eyes, the color of a frozen moon, staring sightlessly up at him.

He did want to see Hope suffer. To regret. To repent and to beg his forgiveness. And then he’d slide this blade right into her heart.

Right into her goddamned soul.