I’m Watching You

Chapter Two

Wednesday, February 18,

8:00 p.m.

Kristen jabbed the elevator button. She was late leaving the office again. „Go home and rest, my ass,“ she muttered. John wanted her fresh for tomorrow, but he’d also wanted a „quick check“ on a case. One thing led to another, just like every night. And just like every night she walked out of the office after everyone else had gone home, including John. She rolled her eyes even as she noted the burned-out bulbs in the hallway that connected their offices to the parking garage elevators. She fished her dictating recorder from her pocket.

„Note to Maintenance,“ she murmured into the recorder. „Two bulbs burned out at elevator entrance.“ Hopefully Lois would type up that note and the twenty others she’d recorded in the last three hours. Lois never refused, it was just a matter of getting her attention. All the prosecutors had staggering caseloads and every request coming out of the Special Investigations Unit was life and death. Unfortunately, Kristen’s caseload was mostly death. Which ended up taking most of her life. Not that she had much of one. Here she was, standing at the elevator to the parking garage, alone and almost too tired to care.

She let her head drop forward, stretching muscles strained from poring over case files when the hairs on the back of her neck lifted and her nose detected a slight shift in the musty smell of the hallway. Tired, yes, but not alone. Someone else is here. Instinct, training, and old tapes had her reaching for the pepper spray she kept in her purse while her pulse scrambled and her brain strained to remember the location of the nearest exit. Every movement deliberate, she spun, her weight evenly distributed on the balls of her feet, the can of pepper spray clenched in her fist. Prepared to flee, but ready to defend.

She had but a split second to process the sight of the mountain of a man that stood behind her, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes glued to the digital display above the elevator doors before one of his huge hands was clamped around her wrist in a vise grip and his eyes were boring into hers.

Blue eyes, bright as a flame, yet cold as ice. They held her gaze inexplicably. Kristen shivered yet still she stared, unable to look away. There was something familiar about his eyes. But the rest of him was a total stranger, and the rest of him filled the hallway, his broad shoulders blocking what little light there was, throwing his face into shadow. She searched her memory, trying to place where she’d seen him. Surely she’d remember a man of his size and presence. Even wrapped in shadow, the hard planes of his face spoke of unmistakable desolation, the line of his jaw uncompromising strength. Each day she dealt with people in pain and suffering, and intuitively she knew this man had experienced a great deal of both.

It was another second before she realized he was breathing as rapidly as she was. With a muttered curse he ripped the pepper spray out of her hand and the spell was broken. He dropped her wrist and automatically she rubbed it, her heart slowing to a somewhat normal rate. He hadn’t been rough, just firm. Still, she’d have bruises from the pressure of his fingers on her skin even through the layers of her winter coat.

„Are you insane, lady?“ he snarled softly, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

Her temper rallied. „Are you? Don’t you know better than to sneak up on women in dark hallways? I could have hurt you.“

One dark eyebrow quirked up, amused. „Then you are insane. If I’d been bent on assaulting you, there wouldn’t have been a damn thing you could’ve done to stop me.“

Kristen felt the blood drain from her face as his words hit home, and just that fast all the old tapes began to roll. He was right. She would have been defenseless, at his mercy.

His eyes narrowed. „Don’t faint on me, lady.“

Again her temper surged, saving her. She pulled herself upright. „I never faint.“ That much was true. She extended her hand, palm up. „My pepper spray, if you don’t mind.“

He grunted. „I do mind.“ But he dropped it in her palm anyway. „I’m serious, lady, that pepper spray would just have made me madder. Especially since you didn’t get me right away. I might even have used it on you.“

Kristen frowned. Knowing he was right just made her madder. „What do you expect a woman to do?“ she snapped, exhaustion making her rude. „Just stand here and be a victim?“

Kristen Mayhew.

He’d been watching her for some time. Knew how vigilantly she worked to get justice for every victim who crossed her path. And how destroyed she was whenever she failed. Today had been a bad one. Angelo Conti. Vicious, vicious, cold-hearted bastard.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel. Conti had murdered a pregnant woman with no remorse, but was home tonight, sleeping in his own soft bed. Conti would wake up tomorrow and go on with his life.

He smiled. He himself would wake up tomorrow and add Conti’s name to the fishbowl. It was full, his fishbowl. Full of slips of paper, cut precisely, folded precisely. Each holding a typed name, representing so much evil. But they would get their due, one at a time. He’d get to Conti sooner or later. And like all the others, Conti would pay.

He was up to six. Six down, about a million to go.