The first thing I felt was the sting in my arms. Something cut into my wrists, and my shoulders were strained as my arms were pulled over my head. My toes pressed against something hard and cold.

Still deep in a dark sleep, I released a soft sound of protest and tried to reposition my arms, but I couldn’t move.

It was then that I realized I was cold. Damp air clung to my bare skin.

Bare skin?

Where was I? But I knew before I got my eyes cracked open.

I was in the basement from hell, hanging from the same rafters where Melanie Seaborn had been tortured and killed all those years ago.

Terror flooded my head, and the darkness threatened to return. I wasn’t sure whether to welcome it or fight it. If I was plunged into darkness, I wouldn’t have to experience my last hours of hell on earth. But then I couldn’t fight to survive either. I had no idea how I could escape with my life, but I knew I had to try.

“There she is,” a deep voice said. “There’s my sweet Magnolia.”

A tall figure stood in the shadows, but my eyesight was still too blurry for me to make out his features.

“You know me?” I asked. My mouth was dry, and the words sounded funny. My head was still fuzzy, and my thoughts uncoordinated. Of course he knew me.

“Have you forgotten our reintroduction already?”

I recognized the voice, and I nearly gasped from shock.

He stepped out of the darker shadows and moved closer. He still wore a hooded sweatshirt, but he unzipped it, tugging back the hood as the sides parted to reveal a light gray T-shirt.

Tripp Tucker stood in front of me, wearing an eager smile.

“Why are you doing this, Tripp?”

“Magnolia, I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe, but it’s nothing personal against you.”

I glanced down at my mostly naked body, bare except for my bra and panties, then back up at him, relieved that my head was clearing. “This feels pretty personal.”

“It will probably get personal soon enough,” he said, giving an almost careless shrug. “When Brian shows up.”

“Daddy?” If he was my hope of salvation, my chances of survival were about 50-50. He’d already proven once that he was willing to choose money over me, and besides, I’d tattled about his crimes to anyone who’d listen. Maybe someone else would find me. Colt knew I’d been snatched, although he would have no way of knowing where we’d gone. And I’d been so busy trying to evade Brady and Owen, I hadn’t brought either one of them to this house.

I was screwed.

Tripp moved closer, and it was then I noticed the shiny four-inch blade in his hand. “Aren’t you curious about why you’re here?”

The sight of the knife ratcheted my terror up multiple levels, and I couldn’t stop the tears from filling my eyes. Only the balls of my feet touched the floor, which didn’t give me much purchase as I scrambled to back away from him. “Please don’t do this, Tripp,” I begged.

A grin twisted his lips and glee filled his eyes.

I was close to breaking down and sobbing, but that was exactly what he wanted. He’d loved torturing Melanie. He’d loved torturing me ten years ago.

As if reading my thoughts, his eyes dropped to my thigh and his grin spread even wider. He reached for my scar with his left hand, his thumb tracing the indentation. “You’ve been a bad girl, Magnolia. This was to remind you to keep your mouth shut about what happened to Melanie.”

He took a step closer and moved the knife toward my other leg. The tip dug into my skin, and I fought to keep from crying as he carved a new C. Fear exploded inside me, pushing me close to hysteria.

“You were so, so good when you went away, Magnolia. But then you came back, and you started spending time with that cop. And you forgot.”

“No,” I said. “He only figured out the connection because you killed Emily.”

“And how did he figure it out, Magnolia?” Tripp asked. When I didn’t answer, he leaned his face close to mine, his hot breath billowing in my face. “You slept with him. You were careless.” He took a step back and his blade sliced a line into my skin to mirror the scar on my right leg. “When you’re careless, I’m careless.”

Despite my determination to stay silent, I cried out in pain and tears started to track down my cheeks. Warm blood slid down my leg.

Tripp backed up several feet, his gaze dropping to the fresh cuts in my leg, and a satisfied look filled his eyes. “I was sad when you left, but I knew that if I was patient you would come back. When it was time.”

“You want my dad?” I asked, trying not to sound so desperate. “Cut me loose, and I’ll help you find him.”

“We don’t need to find him. He’ll be coming to us.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. Was it wrong to hope that he would? “He’s not very reliable.”

“Let’s hope he’s more reliable than usual tonight, or I might get bored.” He lifted his blade and ran his thumb along the edge. Blood beaded on his skin.

“You killed Tiffany,” I said. “You convinced me that you didn’t.”

“I convinced the police too.”

“But you said you loved her.”

“And I did until she screwed me over by screwing your father. I trusted him with everything—my money, my girl . . . my love. He was like a father to me, and he threw every last bit of it away. I vowed that I would make him pay.”

His words confirmed what I had already guessed. Tripp didn’t plan for me to get out of here alive. He knew how much my father had doted on me. Killing me was only one part of making him pay. I needed to keep him talking until my father showed up so he didn’t get bored.

“There was a murder before Tiffany,” I said.

“That was an accident.”

“An accident?”

He shrugged. “She pissed me off. I got bored.”

“And the others? Besides Emily, every single one of them had a connection to one of the partners. You sent a magnolia to Steve Morrissey and a text to Walter Frey to make sure they didn’t miss the message.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Ava Milton’s been loose with information.” His voice lowered. “What have you been sharing with her?”

“Nothing about your murders.”

“My murders? They aren’t my murders. I didn’t want to do them.”

He was a liar. The gleam in his eyes told me he’d loved every minute of it, but I wasn’t about to call him on it. He might decide to give me a demonstration.

“If you didn’t want to murder those women, then why did you?”

His jaw set with determination, and his eyes darkened with anger. “A message needed to be sent to Bill James and your father. I had to make sure I didn’t get screwed out of my payoff. I’d agreed to drop the lawsuit for a portion of the twenty-million-dollar annuity, but I could see they were trying to cut me out. I wanted Brian Steele and his partner to live in fear that, if they didn’t come through, I was coming for him and everything he holds dear.”

His message might have worked with the partners, but it hadn’t worked with my father. Unless my father had lied to me—which was possible—he hadn’t even picked up on the murders. But I didn’t plan on telling Tripp that.

Tripp frowned. “Brian Steele needs to start taking me more seriously.” He pulled out his phone and swiped the screen. The phone rang on Tripp’s speaker phone, and a man answered, his voice sounding strained. “I’m on my way.”

“I thought you’d be more careful about the safety of your one true treasure, Brian,” Tripp said, but he kept his focus on me.

There was a pause. “Magnolia?”

“Say hi to your daddy, Magnolia,” Tripp said. His mouth turned up into a predatory smile, and he clenched and unclenched the knife in his hand, his bent fingers moving rhythmically. Oh yes, he was loving every minute of this.

Fear surged inside me as he stepped toward me like that, caressing his knife, but I told myself that he wouldn’t actually stab me. None of the women had died from stab wounds. They had all suffered multiple slashes.

That didn’t make me feel any better.

I gritted my teeth and tried my hardest not to cry, but my body shook with silent sobs. The cuts on my thigh throbbed, and I felt blood trickle down my leg to my foot.

Tripp’s glee turned to irritation as he stopped in front of me, the phone in his left hand and the knife in his right. The name on the screen said Dead Man Walking.

My breath caught. Daddy wouldn’t be able to save me from this. My only hope was Colt, and he had no idea where to find me.

The blade slashed across my abdomen, and only then did I realize he was retaliating because I hadn’t followed his orders.

I screamed in pain, and the image of Melanie popped into my head. How many slashes had he made on her body? Countless.

“Magnolia?” my father shouted.

I closed my jaw, holding back my sobs. The pain was so intense my peripheral vision clouded.

“Tell your daddy that it’s you, Magnolia,” Tripp said in a cajoling voice.

Part of me wanted to refuse him. I didn’t want to cooperate with him, but the punishment for defying him would be more slashes. No, I’d save my defiance for later.

“Daddy,” I choked out, irritated with myself for calling him that. My stomach was on fire with pain.

“Oh God. Magnolia?”

“Remember Tiffany?” Tripp asked. “Magnolia will look five times worse.”

“I’m coming,” my father said, sounding frantic. “I’m on my way. It was hard to get the—”

“Save your excuses for someone who gives a shit, Dad.” He spat the word out as if it were poison. Then his face morphed into a smile, and he said lightheartedly, “Let’s play a game.”

My hair stood on end. Any game Tripp created would be a horror show.

My father wasted no time before answering. “I have the money. I’m coming, Tripp. I swear.”

“But not fast enough.”

He growled out, “If you hurt her—”

My father’s words were cut off by my scream as Tripp slashed my right thigh below my scar.

“Too late, Dad,” Tripp shouted over my cries. “Your precious Magnolia is already hurt. Did you know I hurt her ten years ago? I gave her my mark, the one you created for me. I claimed her as mine, and tonight I’m going to make it come true.”

“What mark?” My father sounded bewildered and scared.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tripp shouted, his face twisting into a mask of rage. “The logo for my ranch. The one I never got because you and your friends lost all of my money.”

“What did you do?” my father bellowed in dismay.

“You can see it when you get here. It’s on display. I’m giving you five minutes to get here. Magnolia will get another slash for every minute you’re late.”

“But I’m at least ten minutes away!” my father protested.

“Not my problem. And if you’re not here in fifteen minutes, I’m carving the mark into her pretty cheek.” Tripp ended the call, set the timer for five minutes, and then laid the phone down on the concrete floor. As he stood, he studied me, watching my body shake with sobs.

“You really are a pretty girl, but then you always were,” he said, sounding like he was lost in thought. “You used to put on those shows after dinner.”

Keep him talking. Keep him distracted, but the pain was so intense I struggled to form a coherent thought. “Daddy liked to hear me sing,” I said in ragged breaths.

“In the hall at the dinner last night . . .” Tripp took a step toward me. “You said you didn’t remember me coming to your house. Is that true? You don’t remember how we used to sing together?”

I almost said no, that I didn’t remember a thing about him, but then a memory wiggled free. Me sitting on the fireplace hearth next to Tripp as he strummed his guitar and we sang Johnny Cash and June Carter’s song “Jackson.” Momma was watching with guarded eyes, and the hate rolling off Roy was palpable. But Daddy . . . the memory of the love and adoration in his eyes made my breath catch in my chest. Of course, eight-year-old me had taken every drop of affection from that man for granted.

“Yes,” I whispered, and more memories surfaced of Tripp at the dinner table—sometimes just him, sometimes Clint and a couple of other guys too. Memories of me and Tripp singing together, and of the boys, as dad had called them, singing on the back deck. Memories of Tripp hanging out with our family. He’d been there a lot . . . No . . . “You lived with us for a while.”

How had I forgotten that?

“After your father lost all of my money. He was still pretending to love me then. Pretending to be my dad. And I believed it until Tiffany.”

My mouth opened as I started to protest, but I knew it was true as more memories surfaced, memories I’d buried deep inside, locked away . . . to protect myself. “I’d forgotten . . .”

Oh. God.

My mind flashed back to that horrible night, and I realized I hadn’t remembered everything. Right before Tripp had cut into my leg, the shadows hadn’t entirely covered his face.

“Tripp,” I’d whispered, and his grin had stretched wider as he made the first cut.

Why had my mind betrayed me? I wouldn’t be here now if I had remembered that moment. And I could have saved so many women . . .

“Yes. How could you have forgotten?” he asked, sounding pissed. “You used to love me, Magnolia. More than your own brother, and he hated us both for it.”

“We were kids . . . babies. You were older.”

“Not that much older. I’m only fifteen years older than you. We were close, but I meant so little to you that you forgot me.”

“I didn’t forget on purpose,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. Hanging by my arms made it difficult enough to breathe, but my sobbing hadn’t helped. “After that night, I think I blocked all memories of you from my head.” I still couldn’t quite catch my breath, but focusing on talking seemed to calm me down. “When I woke up in the woods, I didn’t remember anything about this house. I had a concussion, so I thought the memory loss was from that. But I was scared, and I knew Momma and Roy were in danger, so I ran away. I didn’t remember anything until I came back to Franklin, and then only in bits and pieces. But I still didn’t remember it was you. Not until now.”

“The human mind is a funny thing,” Tripp said. His grin was back—and it was wrong. “I thought you were ballsy when I saw you at the dinner. But then, you were always so fearless as a little girl. You’d take on a giant if he looked at you wrong, so I thought that serving me at that dinner was a way to get back at me. I followed you into the hall to confront you, but you asked me about Tiffany, and I realized that you really didn’t remember.” He looked amused. “I planned on exploiting that more, but unfortunately, things have progressed a little too quickly. It’s time to wrap this up.”

“Roy saw you,” I said. “You threatened him to be quiet too.”

“It doesn’t take much to threaten Roy, and it helped that he didn’t remember me. But I knew he was watching, and I wasn’t surprised. He hated you, and I think he liked seeing you powerless and defenseless.”

I closed my eyes, the thought too overwhelming. It was so similar to what Colt had said, and there was no denying the words carried a grain of truth.

“It hurts when the people who are supposed to love us don’t. When they turn on us and betray us instead. I know exactly how you feel, Magnolia.”

I didn’t respond. He moved closer, close enough that he snaked his left arm around me and rested his hand on my lower back.

My breath caught in my throat as his gaze came to rest on my breasts. He slid his hand down and cupped my butt cheek.

This caught me by surprise. There was no record of him sexually assaulting the previous victims, not that groping would show up on an autopsy report. But my memories of Melanie’s death didn’t include anything sexual at all. Or maybe I’d blocked it out.

I held his gaze, trying to figure out what he was doing, and a grin lifted one side of his mouth higher than the other. He was amused.

“Do you know what I used to daydream?”

I was almost scared to ask, but I needed to keep him talking. “No. What?”

“I used to imagine us together . . . when you were older, of course. We would be married, and then I’d really be Brian Steele’s son.”

I gasped in shock, and it must have shown in my eyes, because his grin faded. “Is that so heinous, Magnolia?”

“No,” I said, scrambling to come up with a plan. I could use this. It was time for the performance of my life. Literally. “When I saw you at the dinner . . . you caught my eye,” I said, “even before I knew you were Tripp Tucker. Something about you felt so right. Like something inside me had been missing.”

He blinked in surprise. I’d caught his attention.

“When I found out who you were, I knew I’d never have a shot at being with you, but I thought of you . . .” I let my voice drop off, full of innuendo.

He watched me with interest.

“I hate my father. I hate him for what he did to me and my family. I hate him for what he did to you. We can both hurt him,” I said. “Let’s hurt him together.”

“What do you have in mind?” His hand tightened on my butt, and he pulled my body flush to his. The bulge in his pants told me he was interested. If I could get him to cut me down, I’d improvise. I just needed to be free.

“When he shows up, we ambush him together. How much do you think it will hurt him to find out that I’ve been working with you to bring him down? Especially after he rushes over here to save my life. You want him to pay, Tripp. This is how to do it.”

He lowered his face to the side of my neck and breathed in deep before placing a tender kiss on my pulse point.

I fought hard not to cringe from his touch, but it was impossible. His hand with the knife rested on my waist.

His face lifted. “You smell like him.”

My chest tightened. “Who?”

“Colt Austin. You slept with him and then tried to seduce me.” He took several steps back, the blood from the wounds on my leg and my stomach smeared on his jeans and light gray T-shirt.

I shook my head, trying not to panic. “No! My father hired Colt to watch me. So I’ve been feeding him false information, trying to lay a trap of my own. But yours is so much better. We can work together.”

His face softened, and his grip on the knife loosened. He seemed to be considering it when the alarm on his phone went off.

My heart skipped a beat.

Tripp’s face fell and regret filled his eyes as he squatted next to the phone and turned off the alarm.

“I really wish you’d told me this before I called your daddy.”

“It’s not too late, Tripp,” I pleaded shamelessly. I had no pride left. Only self-preservation. “We can still do this. Please.”

He shook his head, then swiped on his phone, setting the timer for one minute. I somehow resisted the urge to start sobbing. I couldn’t fall apart. I needed to keep my wits and think this through.

“That’s just it,” Tripp said, advancing toward me. “I made your father a promise, and unlike Brian Steele, I keep my promises.”

The knife blade glinted as it arced toward me, slashing my abdomen diagonally.

The cut was longer than the others, and I screamed in pain and fright, my feet unsteady beneath me. My body weight dropped, jerking on my arms and sending a fresh wave of pain through my shoulders.

Tripp took a step backward, wearing a grim look as he restarted the timer for one minute.