See No Evil

He sat next to her. “If we’d done it your way, you’d be dead or in jail by now.”

“Being dead doesn’t sound all that bad,” she whispered. She slugged back the Scotch. “Better than living in Hell.”

Death made her feel alive.

Holding something so delicate in her hand, something men treasured-their existence-and having the power to let him keep it, or take it.

Her choice. Her decision.

Some people didn’t have choices. Some people couldn’t make their own decisions.

Cami closed her eyes, remembering exactly how it had played out. The plan had been executed perfectly. Victor Montgomery was a creep, through and through, and she knew exactly how to play him. How she had played so many other men in her life. If only she could tell her friends everything, they would relish her genius.

But some things were safer kept secret. Especially now when the end was so near.

The bed shifted next to her and Skip sat up.

“Where are you going?” she asked, panic building.

“It’s late. I need to go home.”

“No. No, not now.”

She reached for him, pulled him back down. He resisted for a brief minute and her panic turned to anger. That Skip would even think of walking away. From her. No man walked away. They all wanted her. Hadn’t she proved that today? That she could seduce a man to his own death?

“Make love to me.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Yes. You can.”

Cami reached out, touched him, caressed him. Kissed him. Brought him down on top of her. She knew exactly what he liked, exactly what excited him. She knew everything about Skip, all the way down to his darkest needs. Those needs were what she played on now, knowing he would bend to her will.

He groaned and spread her legs. She was already wet, waiting to be fucked.

“Do it hard. Make it hurt.”

“No-”

“Yes.”

He liked to hurt her, and he hated himself for it. Cami played on that. Gave the pain up to him willingly. Made him crave more.

He bit her until she cried out, making him pump into her harder. Squeezed her breasts until she gasped; bruises would show later. He was getting closer, closer…

She wasn’t. She closed her eyes and pictured putting her mouth on Victor Montgomery’s cock, making her victim hard, making him want her.

He had quivered between her lips. He’d held her head down tight and she couldn’t breathe. She let go of him.

“Don’t stop.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He had groaned, his eyes alight with sick desire. Desire she had put there.

The power flowed through her then. Knowing that now he was as alive as any man could be, and in two minutes he’d be dead.

Her lover dug his nails into her ass and pushed himself into her as he came.

When she remembered the moment of the judge’s death, her breath quickened, her desire peaked, and she joined her occasional lover for the ride over the top.

The phone rang thirty minutes later. Skip continued snoring in her bed.

She glanced at caller ID. It was him.

“Hello,” she said quietly.

“You’re not alone.”

“He’s asleep.”

“We have a change in plans.”

“You said no-”

“This isn’t up for discussion.”

“But-”

He sighed and she tensed. “Who’s kept your secret for nearly two years?” he said, his voice low, and she wondered if he was alone. “Good, you understand. She’d kill you and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. I wouldn’t want to, Cami, because that means you’re being foolish. So listen to me. Meet me at my place, ten a.m., and I’ll give you the details.”

“All right.”

He laughed. “Don’t sound so concerned. You’re great at improvisation. In fact, you’re a damn good actress. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” He hung up.

She put the phone down. She wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. She wouldn’t be able to get him out of her mind.

He was the only man she really wanted, but he refused to have sex with her. Yet, he’d said.

“Wait until we’re done with the final execution. Then I can give you what you want.”

Cami looked at Skip. He was a distant second, but he’d have to do.

She woke him. “Make it hurt, Skip.”

FIVE

Emily was sleeping a deep, physically exhausted sleep.

Because Julia flashed her badge, recited her credentials, and acted like she had a right to ask questions, Emily’s doctor spoke to her.

“Borderline alcohol poisoning-her blood was at.28-and we pumped her stomach,” Dr. Browne said. “Fifteen hundred milligrams of Xanax was recovered, which is approximately three pills. More may have been absorbed into her bloodstream depending on when she took them, but if she’d taken more than six or seven with that amount of alcohol she’d likely be in a coma. We’ve sent a blood sample to the lab and the report will come back tomorrow.”

“Has she regained consciousness?”

“More or less. When her stomach was pumped she came to for a few minutes. She’s sleeping, but it’s largely a drug-induced sleep from the pills her body absorbed.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No.”

“I’d like to sit with her.”

“I can’t allow any police interviews tonight. She’s being monitored twenty-four/seven and the police have put a guard at her door.”

“I just want to sit with her.” Julia added softly, “She’s my niece.”

Dr. Browne nodded, her warm eyes suddenly sympathetic. “I don’t think she’ll wake up, but if she does I’ll need to examine her in private.”

“Of course.”

“Where’s her mother?”

Julia tensed. “Home.”

Mother was just a word to Crystal Montgomery. The irony that Matt had married a woman so much like their own mother was not lost on Julia.

Julia left the doctor, nodded to the police guard outside Emily’s room, and walked in.