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  Lacy was propped into a straight-backed chair a few feet away. Her wrists and feet were bound as well, and she was tied to the chair. A dirty rag had been stuffed into her mouth, no doubt to keep her from screaming while he had gone back for Helena.

  Robicheaux walked over and yanked the rag from Lacy’s mouth. “Scream and the party’s over. You get me.”

  She nodded.

  “You two enjoy your visit to the bayou. It’s all part of the Louisiana adventure, Lacy. Helena can tell you all about it while I get your little surprise ready. I’ll be back soon, but I want both of you to be fully alert for our next adventure. If you guessed it’s a boat ride, you get the prize. We’ll take the pirogue down the bayou and then we’ll stop. I’ll slice your breasts and your throats and watch while you choke to death on your gurgling blood. Then I’ll toss you overboard.”

  Fury temporarily overrode Helena’s fear. “You won’t get away with this. Hunter will track you down. You’ll see death from the other side and we’ll see how brave you are then.”

  Lacy began to cry. “I thought you loved me. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I have no choice.”

  He stood silent for a long time and for the first time Helena thought she saw a trace of regret in his eyes.

  “Why did you call my grandmother?” Helena asked the question that had burned in her mind ever since she’d arrived back in New Orleans.

  “Because I liked her. If she hadn’t fallen and died when she did, she might have been the one person who could have dragged me out of the darkness.”

  “It’s not too late. You can walk away from this hell.”

  “I’ll walk away when you two are dead.”

  He was truly mad.

  Helena had to find a way to escape. Her wrists and ankles were still bound, but she could crawl and scoot across the floor. There must be something inside this house she could use as a weapon.

  “Wait,” Robicheaux said as he started to walk out the door. “I almost forgot, and it only takes one little mistake to take a killer down.”

  He walked back over and tied Helena’s hands to a giant meat hook that hung from an iron overhead beam.

  He was the devil himself.

  “One more question,” Helena said.

  “Anything to make this good for you but make it quick.”

  “How did you know the man who had killed the first two women was dead before you killed the third woman and Elizabeth Grayson?”

  “Because I’m an expert at what I do. I had tracked Samson Everson down. I was watching when he killed the second woman and I knew when he’d been released from prison and selected his third target. I killed him first.”

  The truth was sickening. “You could have saved the second victim, couldn’t you? Instead you let her die and then you became the monster yourself. No wonder you know so much about how the brains of serial killers function. You are one.”

  “And now he’s going to kill us.” Tears rolled down Lacy’s cheeks. “Please don’t kill us,” she begged. “I’ll never tell anyone what you’ve done. Just let me live.”

  “It’s too late for that now,” Robicheaux said. “I have to see this through.”

  Helena waited until he was out of earshot before she tried to comfort Lacy. “Don’t give up yet. As long as we’re breathing, we have a chance. The smartest, bravest detective I know has promised to keep me safe. All we have to do is stay alive until he gets here.”

  She had no idea how he’d ever find them, but she had to hold on to something. She loved Hunter even more now than she had six years ago.

  She had to live to tell him that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hunter was at a dead run when he reached the door to the carriage house. He’d tried to reach Barker and Helena on his way over. Neither had answered.

  He couldn’t imagine that anyone could have gotten past Cory Barker, but that didn’t reduce the rising panic. He unlocked the door and rushed inside, Smith & Wesson in hand.

  “Barker! Helena!” His frantic calls echoed through the house. The only response was a coughing noise as if someone was trying to clear their throat.

  He followed the noise to the sitting room. He saw the blood splattered over the furniture and walls before he saw Barker. Barker was facedown in a pool of crimson.

  Hunter fell to his knees and checked Barker’s pulse. Almost too weak to be alive. He looked at the chest wound. The blood was starting to clot. “Where’s Helena?” Hunter asked.

  “He took her.” Barker’s voice was weak, the words whispered.

  “Who took her? Who did this?”

  “Romeo.”

  Curses flew from his mouth. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Get on it.”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “Algiers. Swamp. First victim.”

  Fury and dread roared through Hunter as he called for an ambulance for Barker.

  “Hold on. Help is coming, old buddy,” Hunter said.

  The French Kiss Killer had finally made a mistake. He’d thought Barker was struggling for his last breath when he couldn’t resist bragging about his plan.

  He should have known Barker was as tough as they came.

  Hunter knew exactly where the first victim had been killed. He’d checked out the crime scene several times after the murder.

  He didn’t wait around for the ambulance. Barker needed a lot more help than he could give him.

  He had to reach Helena in time.

  * * *

  TIME WAS RUNNING out for Helena and Lacy. Helena knew it, but still she cursed Robicheaux as he tucked her and Lacy into the hull of the long, narrow pirogue. With their wrists and ankles still bound, there was no way to roll into the water and try to swim to safety.

  Their only chance of escape would be for Helena to get her hands on the hunting knife Robicheaux wore in a scabbard like a sword. Robicheaux stood in the back of the boat and poled them away from the muddy bank.

  Their boat ride to hell had started.

  Lacy screamed for help but there was no one to hear. Helena used her body to rock the boat, hoping Robicheaux would fall on top of them and she could get her hands on that knife. It was a long shot. It was the only shot.

  Robicheaux didn’t fall. Instead, he dropped the pole inside the boat and unsheathed the knife. He raised it over her, ready to bury it in her chest or to slice her throat.

  Her last thoughts were of Hunter and all the years they’d wasted.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hunter dodged branches, tangled vines and massive palmetto fronds as he raced toward the leaning, crumbling fishing cabin he remembered well. He’d parked uphill, above the worst of the swamp. He didn’t want to be spotted until he was ready to spring into action.

  The house was dark. Hunter’s spirit plunged. He pushed himself to run faster, ignoring the pain in his chest and the cold, slimy snake he had to brush from his face after colliding with the branch of a cypress tree.

  And then he heard the scream. Not coming from inside the house. He followed the sound, away from the house and toward the murky bayou.

  He couldn’t understand what had driven Robicheaux to this madness. It was of no concern now. All that mattered was stopping him before he killed Helena and probably Lacy, as well.

  Hunter had lived through watching his father kill his mother. He didn’t think he could live through losing Helena. Life couldn’t take his world away again.

  * * *

  HELENA HELD HER breath as Robicheaux hesitated. He stared into the distance as if he’d heard or seen something that startled him.

  She rocked the boat again. He fought to maintain his balance and then swung the knife at her face.

  Gunfire cracked like fireworks. Robicheaux grabbed his chest with one hand and tried to bury the point of the k
nife inside her chest with the other. He missed by inches.

  He collapsed and fell into the water, overturning the boat and dumping Helena and Lacy into the bayou. The whir of helicopters drowned out their cries for help.

  Seconds later she and Lucy were surrounded by the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. A NOPD rescue crew. Hunter was barking orders.

  Someone pulled a deathly still Robicheaux from the water. A SWAT team member waded in to save Lacy. Hunter’s arms encircled Helena as he pulled her to the bank.

  Hunter cradled Helena in his arms, holding her as if he’d never let her go.

  “I let you down,” Hunter muttered. “I promised to protect you and I let you down.”

  “You saved my life. I kept telling myself you’d come but I don’t think I believed it.”

  “I’ve never been that frightened before,” he admitted. “I don’t know how I could have gone on if I lost you.”

  “I love you, Hunter. I always have. I always will.”

  “Well, I guess that settles it then. Time for a move. What’s the weather like in Boston this time of year?”

  “Who needs Boston? Everything I’ve ever wanted is here.”

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Helena adjusted the skirt of the simple white wedding gown she’d purchased six years ago. She stepped into the courtyard on a beautiful, unusually warm December morning. She looked up and spotted Hunter standing beside the minister at the flower-bedecked altar.

  He smiled. Her heart sang.

  She walked past the rows of guests seated on folding chairs. She had no one to give her away. She needed no one. Mia’s spirit accompanied her all the way.

  Cory Barker sat with his wife and two daughters. Healing had been slow and painful, but he’d make a full recovery in time.

  Ella had the seat of honor on the first row of folding chairs.

  Alyssa was Helena’s maid of honor.

  Everything was perfect and yet Helena’s hands grew clammy when the minister began the vows. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered her “I do.”

  When it was Hunter’s time to state his vows, the love in his eyes convinced her that nothing would ever tear them apart again.

  He said “I do” and the minister presented them as husband and wife.

  “You may now kiss the bride.”

  Hunter did. The way all perfect weddings should end, as if a thousand brushstrokes had painted her world with love.

  This time he was here to stay.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Iron Will by B.J. Daniels.

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  Iron Will

  by B.J. Daniels

  Chapter One

  Hank Savage squinted into the sun glaring off the dirty windshield of his pickup as his family ranch came into view. He slowed the truck to a stop, resting one sun-browned arm over the top of the steering wheel as he took in the Cardwell Ranch.

  The ranch with all its log-and-stone structures didn’t appear to have changed in the least. Nor had the two-story house where he’d grown up. Memories flooded him of hours spent on the back of a horse, of building forts in the woods around the creek, of the family sitting around the large table in the kitchen in the mornings, the sun pouring in, the sound of laughter. He saw and felt everything he’d given up, everything he’d run from, everything he’d lost.

  “Been a while?” asked the sultry, dark-haired woman in the passenger seat.

  He nodded despite the lump in his throat, shoved back his Stetson and wondered what the hell he was doing back here. This was a bad idea, probably his worst ever.

  “Having second thoughts?” He’d warned her about his big family, but she’d said she could handle it. He wasn’t all that sure even he could handle it. He prided himself on being fearless about most things. Give him a bull that hadn’t been ridden and he wouldn’t hesitate to climb right on. Same with his job as a lineman. He’d faced gale winds hanging from a pole to get the power back on, braved getting fried more times than he liked to remember.

  But coming back here, facing the past? He’d never been more afraid. He knew it was just a matter of time before he saw Naomi—just as he had in his dreams, in his nightmares. She was here, right where he’d left her, waiting for him as she had been for three long years. Waiting for him to come back and make things right.

  He looked over at Frankie. “You sure about this?”

  She sat up straighter to gaze at the ranch and him, took a breath and let it out. “I am if you are. After all, this was your idea.”

  Like she had to remind him. “Then I suggest you slide over here.” He patted the seat between them and she moved over, cuddling against him as he put his free arm around her. She felt small and fragile, certainly not ready for what he suspected they would be facing. For a moment, he almost changed his mind. It wasn’t too late. He didn’t have the right to involve her.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said and nuzzled his neck where his dark hair curled at his collar. “Trust me.”

  He pulled her closer and let his foot up off the brake. The pickup began to roll toward the ranch. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Frankie. He just knew that it was only a matter of time before Naomi came to him pleading with him to do what he should have done three years ago. He felt a shiver even though the summer day was unseasonably warm.

  I’m here.

  Copyright © 2019 by Barbara Heinlein

  ISBN-13: 9781488046032

  New Orleans Noir

  Copyright © 2019 by Jo Ann Vest

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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