Page 2 of Killer Knows Best (Fallon Baxter FBI Mystery #4)

2

DELANEY RIGGS

Victim

G wen and I step out into the hallway on the twelfth floor of the Grand Meadows Hotel, where everything is eerily quiet, a luxurious silence only an exorbitant tax bracket can buy. I feel the quiet hush of money with every step I take.

The click of Gwen’s heels enlivens the silence as we trek along the plush carpet, my own footsteps muffled as if I’m trying not to leave a trace.

A man stands in a doorway. He’s older—gray hair, glasses, the whole bit. He’s wearing a suit, but there’s something off about it. It’s like he’s trying too hard by playing a role that doesn’t quite fit him. His eyes sweep over us, lingering on Gwen a little too long before settling on me. I feel a shiver run down my spine, but I force myself to stay still, to smile.

This might be him. And horror upon horror if it is.

“Ladies.” He tips his head our way, but Gwen just grabs me by the arm as we pass him by and a flood of relief hits me. He’s too old. Not attractive. He had a greasy feel about him in general.

Gwen has already let me know that just about anyone can be good-looking in the dark, especially when your eyes are closed. And believe me, I plan on shutting them tight until this entire nightmare is over.

“This is the one,” Gwen says, stopping in front of a dark mahogany door. She lets us in with the keycard and flashes that same fearless grin she’s been wearing all night. “They won’t be here for another twenty minutes at least. But whatever you do, don’t freeze up. Just follow my lead.”

I take a deep breath and step inside. The room is just as opulent as the lobby—plush furniture, dim lighting, the faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. My hands tremble as I clasp them in front of me, trying to steady myself.

This is fine. Everything is fine. It’s just one night.

But I know—deep down, I know—that nothing about this is fine.

What would my mother think if she knew? Honestly, this might stoke a hint of pride in her. She’s always had a soft spot for creative ingenuity when it comes to utilizing our feminine wiles to our best efforts. And this definitely fits in that category.

I think of Jeremy Winters and what he might think. He’s the only boy I ever loved. We were together for our junior year in high school before his family moved to Germany. His father was in the Army, and Jeremy said he was going into the service as soon as he graduated as well. We exchanged text messages profusely at first when he left the country, but that died down after about six months. I still think of him, so kindhearted, so devastatingly handsome, so very devoted to me, albeit for the briefest period of time.

For that magical year we were together, I was the only star in his universe .

I think I’ll try to contact him tomorrow. A sprig of hope enlivens in me for a better life.

Yes, I think what happens tonight will be a one-off.

This isn’t for me. I can already tell.

I’ll make the money I earn tonight stretch . I’ll go without. I’ll skip meals. Heck, I’ll forage in dumpsters. I don’t need to derogate myself like this forever.

This might be Gwen’s easy out, but it’s not mine.

I wonder if Jeremy still has feelings for me like I do for him? They say true love never dies, and that’s exactly what I had with him. Still have. It’s true and it will never die.

The door handle jiggles and both Gwen and I straighten.

A figure dressed in black from head to toe steps in—we’re talking ski mask with slits for eyes, no mouth, dark gloves, dark boots.

I shoot a look to Gwen. I knew this was going to be weird, but I had no idea how weird this was going to get. If they pull out handcuffs, I’m leaving.

Suddenly, silver bracelets are my hard line. It’s nice to know I still have boundaries lurking in me somewhere.

They speed our way and pull something silver from a sheath on their back. It’s silver, all right, but it’s not handcuffs—it’s the blade of a knife.

My adrenaline hits its zenith and they swoop upon us and my entire body lights up with pain.

The blade slices through the air like a violent dance, and before we know what’s hit us, both Gwen and I are bleeding from our throats. We stagger on our heels, gurgling in an attempt to scream, but the blade keeps coming. I hold up my arms to deflect and my hands explode with blood.

The blade flashes like lightning in the dim light as my body locks up.

Time slows down as my mind struggles to catch up with my new reality. A thousand thoughts race through my head—too fast, too jumbled to make sense. My legs want to move, to run, but they won’t. I’m frozen, completely paralyzed by fear.

Gwen gives a garbled scream, but it sounds distant, muffled, as if I’m underwater.

My chest tightens and my heart slams against my ribcage, beating so hard I think it might explode. I hope it will.

My breath comes in shallow gasps.

This can’t be happening. Not like this.

I try to shout, to fight back, but the words die in my throat.

The blade comes at me again—cold steel slicing through my chest and a pain so deep it takes my breath away.

It’s a searing heat that detonates in my side, spreading like wildfire. I try to scream, but no sound comes out.

The world around me fades as my legs buckle, and I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs.

Can’t move. My arms feel heavy and numb, like they’re not even attached to my body anymore. I try to lift my hand to stop the bleeding, but it’s useless. All I can do is lie here, helpless.

Is this it? Is this how it ends?

My vision blurs, the edges going dark. Every breath feels like I’m drowning. I can taste blood, metallic and bitter as it mixes with the bile rising in my throat. I’m fading, slipping into a darkness that I can’t pull myself out of.

One very bad idea and I’ve ruined everything.

The last thing I see is the blade, slick with my blood, before everything goes black.