The Killing Edge Read online

  Chloe fingered the delicate gold chain around her neck. She was amazed to think that the necklace, with its many symbols of faith, had saved her life. It had broken, of course. They had spent a day finding all the pieces, but it meant a lot to her and she was glad they’d made the effort. She cherished it first because it had made her realize that she had the power to free herself. And then, when she had learned how Luke had known Brad was the killer, because of a trip to New Orleans and the purchase of hamza hands, she had known she wanted her necklace back, just as it had been.

  With Brad dead, the story had been easy to piece together but not to prove. Brother Michael had thought at first that he would come out of everything untouched, but Maria had identified him, and pressed charges for kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment and rape. And since he had never gotten hold of the supreme riches he had expected Brad to inherit, he didn’t have the where withal to post the kind of bail that the judge had set or hire a pricey attorney.

  Leo was a top-notch prosecutor; he knew what questions to throw out and what deals to offer. Eventually, they had gotten the truth.

  Victoria had been Brad’s intended victim ten years ago. Or, rather, Brother Michael’s intended victim. Brad had stumbled onto the church, and once Brother Michael had discovered who Brad was and what he stood to inherit, he had made Brad his chosen one—teaching him everything he knew about killing from years spent as a “missionary” and then a mercenary in the Asian jungles. He had engineered the whole thing, down to the fact that Brad and the others would slip away—to the water, where dive tanks awaited them, so they could reach the boat moored offshore, once the massacre was complete. But Chloe had foiled him then, and Brad had realized that his wisest course was to pose as a victim himself, letting his accomplices disappear with his gear.

  Brad, Brother Michael assured them chillingly, had taken exceptionally well to the art of murder. He’d recognized in Brad the signs of a psychopath, and though he’d indoctrinated Brad into the church’s beliefs, he’d never allowed him to officially join, making the link between the killers and their crimes almost impossible to uncover. When they had failed the first time, they had engineered the murder-suicide in the Everglades. And then they had waited.

  Chloe hadn’t understood why Brad hadn’t tried again to kill Victoria. But Brother Michael explained that there had been no reason for Victoria to die then, not until the church rose again, a sign from God that the time was right. Besides, if she had been killed too soon after the Teen Massacre, someone might have suspected that she had been the intended victim at the center of the murders, and suspicion might have fallen on Brad.

  But Brother Michael had known that Brad would need to kill while they waited, so he’d taught him how to hunt his victims elsewhere. He’d been angry when Brad had murdered Colleen Rodriguez—that had been far too close to home—but Brad was what he was. A psychopath and a killer. A charming boy gone horribly wrong.

  Together, Brother Michael and Brad had killed Lucy Garcia and Brother Sanz. Lucy had been about to go to the press or the police in her quest to vindicate her brother, and Brother Sanz had begun to think that he really was running the church. As to the second massacre, Brad had known that Victoria was supposed to be there for a fitting. Instead, she’d been late, and Myra and the others had just gotten in the way.

  Mark had been in Myra’s office on Coco-belle, looking for some documents Harry Lee had requested, and he’d found a file of old pictures Myra had kept from her time in the Church of the Real People. He’d recognized Brad in several of them, sitting in the background or talking to Brother Michael, and he’d realized there had to be a connection to the murders and it couldn’t be good. When he’d seen them with Brad by the pool, he’d tried to get their attention, so he could warn them.

  Colleen had tried to get her attention, too. Mean while, Brad had seen Mark and been forced to act.

  It was terrifying to think of all the time they had spent with him over the years. Terrifying to realize that he’d wanted Victoria dead the whole time, and yet he’d been able to smile and laugh with her while his plan was on hold.

  Red.

  It was the color of the rose that was suddenly placed before her. She turned. Luke had gotten up early, and gone out for coffee and pastries—and the rose he handed her now. She stepped into his arms, smoothed back his hair and looked into his eyes, smiling.

  “How beautiful, thank you.”

  “You’ll see a lot of them soon, England is famous for its roses.” He smiled at her, but then his smile faded for a moment as he studied her eyes. “I owe you so much.”

  “You saved my life. I think I’m the one who owes you.”

  “You were doing pretty well on your own.”

  “Yes, I’m tough,” she agreed, and then her tone grew serious. “I know you’re not a believer, but Colleen was there. She scared Brad. Enough so that he paused for a split second. A split second—and then you were there. And you saved my life.”

  “I’m selfish. Didn’t know what I’d do without you.”

  He was silent for a moment.

  “What?” she asked.

  He turned away from her. “I still don’t know what I believe, exactly. But…I saw her, too.”

  “Colleen?” she asked.

  “I knew more or less where we had to go, near the mangroves, but finding the exact spot could have taken a while. Then I saw her, a shimmer on the water, telling me where to go. And then I found her—her body—and she led me to you.”

  Chloe gasped. “You never said anything!”

  “I wasn’t sure it would be good for my image.”

  “Your image will survive,” she said, laughing.

  “I’m going to see them again—Brent and Nikki. And I’m going to take you to meet Adam Harrison when we get back. I want to know more. I need to know more.”

  “I’m glad.” She kissed him again. “But in the end, you saved my life.”

  “What can I say? I need you. Of course, you don’t listen and you can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but…” He paused, touching her hair. “But you always face everything head-on, while I…I left. Now it’s time for me to go back, and then I can move forward again.”

  “That’s lovely,” she told him. “Thank you. What time do we leave?”

  “The plane isn’t until two this afternoon.”

  “Then we have lots of time left here. What shall we do with it all?”

  He drew her closer, and his hands slipped beneath the silk of her wrap, warm against the cool naked flesh of her hips. She moved against him until they were flush, and his mouth was hot and vibrant, wet and arousing, against hers.

  Soon they were a tangle of limbs, their mouths and hands roaming everywhere.

  Crimson.

  It was the explosive color of the world when they climaxed together, then turned to make love again.

  Never before had life seemed so precious, she thought then, and she thought the same thing again hours later, as their 777 lifted off.

  Luke murmured something as he looked out the window.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing.”

  He was holding her hand, and she squeezed his fingers. “That wasn’t nothing. I think you said, ‘I love you.’”

  He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Maybe I did. Look, I mean…well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m just not good with words.”

  “So that is what you said?”

  “Yeah. Are you all right with that?”

  She smiled and met his eyes. “Oh, I think I can manage to live with it.”

  Then she settled back comfortably. It was going to be a long flight.

  And, with…any luck, a long and very happy life.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8765-9

  THE KILLING EDGE

  Copyright © 2010 by Heather Graham Pozzessere

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