He did. He wanted Kara right now. She was an LA cop and he was a virtual nomad, but he wanted her.

Maybe that’s why he was so attracted. Whatever they did, whatever they had, would by necessity be brief.

She unbuttoned her flannel shirt. Flannel had never looked sexy to him before tonight. Underneath was a thin black tank top. She started to take it off, too, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him.

Then he saw the scars.

The first was on her upper right shoulder, a bullet wound. He knew because he had one of his own, on his left calf. He’d only been shot once. It hadn’t been serious, but it had hurt like hell.

He kissed her, then tilted her head and kissed her scar.

Then he saw the second.

It was on her left shoulder, in the back, and it wasn’t a gunshot. It was a long, narrow white scar, older than the gunshot. A knife wound, and it had been serious.

“Stop thinking,” she said.

“You were shot. And stabbed.”

“More than once, but I’m alive, and I can prove it.”

She pushed him back on the bed and took off her tank top. She had another knife wound on her left breast, a long, narrow scar. A gunshot on her left side.

“Kara—”

“I’ll turn off the lights if you say one more word, Costa.”

She reached for the lamp, but he took her hand and kissed it, then licked from her palm to her fingers. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Don’t you dare turn off the lights. I want to watch you.” He reached for the back of her neck and pulled her down on him, holding her tight as he kissed her.

Matt had every intention of finding out how she got so many scars. While he didn’t know Kara Quinn well, he knew her well enough that if he pressed now she would leave or... Or what?

He had never met a woman who was both completely mysterious and extremely open at the same time. He didn’t think it was possible.

And yet here she was.

“You’re still thinking,” she whispered into his ear, then nipped his lobe to the point of pain. Her tongue shot out, her hands reached under his waistband, and as soon as she touched him, he was done thinking about anything for the rest of the night, except making sure that Kara Quinn had just as much fun as he did.

23

Saturday, March 6
Liberty Lake
12:05 a.m.

Grace hadn’t wanted Andy to leave that night. Kara’s joke about the killer preferring knives didn’t go over well at all and Grace was worried.

But out of all the teachers and administrators that Abigail and her people had called, there were only three they couldn’t reach. One they confirmed from the school district was out of town for the week; the second was a principal who worked at Central Valley High School—where both Andy and Kara had graduated—but lived at the lake. The last, an English teacher who worked at the elementary school, but had a home just outside the town limits. Andy would go to her house next.