The suite door crashed open, and Mason rushed out. “SAM!”

She was . . . I couldn’t look away, and I fell to my knees. It was like Taylor all over again. Mason came to stand behind me. “Shit.” He knelt by me. “Sam.”

There was no comprehension.

“Sam.” His hand touched my shoulder. “Who did this?”

“Who—” I looked up. There’d been a gloved hand. There was nothing again, just like the other time. “I—” That word gurgled out of me. “I don’t know.”

They could’ve killed me. The fight or flight hadn’t kicked in for me. I screamed and then froze.

“Wha—oh my God!” Logan rushed from the suite.

Mason yelled past us, “Nate! Stay there!”

“But—”

“STAY!”

I looked up. I didn’t want Logan here either. He shouldn’t have to see Heather like this too. “No.” I began shaking my head, standing, holding my hands out. “Logan, don’t be here. Go back inside.”

His eyes were glued to her; then he pulled them with an effort to my face, and down to my hands. He didn’t look away. A vein bulged out on the side of his neck. “Sam.” A breathless whisper. He started to reach for my hands. “Is that yours?”

What? I looked at my hands. They were covered in blood, but—I looked back at Heather’s body. I hadn’t touched her.

Had I?

This blood—I lifted my hands higher to see. Then I looked at myself. I wasn’t cut. It wasn’t my blood.

“She touched her.” Mason blocked Logan and me from seeing Heather. He stood between me and her. His hands came to my shoulders. They were firm. Authoritative. “Go back inside, both of you.”

“Who is it? I can’t see.” Nate spoke from behind us. Mason was blocking him too.

“Fuck that.” Logan frowned. He wasn’t trying to look at Heather around his brother. If anything, he backed away a step. “What are you going to do?”

“Someone killed her in front of Sam. I’m going to look for him.”

“What?” Logan and I spoke as one. I rounded on my boyfriend. “No, you’re not.”

“Sam.” He gentled his tone. “I have to search for whoever did this. They could’ve hurt you too.”

They could’ve done worse than that. But neither of us said those words out loud. We were both thinking it, and I saw the plea in his eyes. He wanted me to let him go, let him look. I shook my head. No way. I reached for him. “You go, I go.”

Logan cursed and stepped up to us. He avoided looking at Heather. “We all go.” That vein popped out again. He looked down at the ground. “Does Channing know?”

Nate asked from the door, “What’s going on?”

He was ignored. Mason looked at me.

I shook my head in response to Logan’s question.

Logan swore again. “We need to tell him, and we need to call the cops.”

“I’ll find Channing.” Mason pointed back to the suite. “Get in there. Deadbolt the door, and call the police.”

“Mase.”

Mason had started to go. Logan stopped him, uttering that one word.

Mason looked back.

Logan shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere without us. We all go inside and call the cops.”

Nate cleared his throat. “Yes. Come back in here.”

I asked, “And if Channing comes back and finds her like this?”

“I don’t care. For all we know, he’s the one who did it.”

I frowned.

Logan avoided looking at me too, but added to what Mason had said. “We don’t know who did it, Sam. You have to be cautious. With everyone.”

Not them. They had been behind me in the suite. Not them.

Mason muttered a curse under his breath, running his hand over his face. “Fine.” He grabbed my elbow and began walking me back. He used his other hand to push Logan forward too. “We all go in. We need the cops called five minutes ago.”

We deadbolted the door. Nate went to the couch. Mason went to the phone, and Logan stood and stared at me.

“Mason said you saw someone last night?”

I nodded to him. “A guy in a black robe and white mask.”

“Like Scream?”

“There were no facial features in the white mask. It was just a white mask.”

“No place for eyes, nose, mouth?” Logan narrowed his eyes.

I shook my head.

“How do they breathe?”

Mason put the phone back down. He’d overheard. “Maybe the material is breathable and thin enough for them to see through?”

Logan gave him a skeptical look, his lips thinning. “You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you, and what’s your issue? You got a tone. You blame Sam for this?”

Logan didn’t answer, but his gaze came back to me. It was unflinching. Hardened. His jaw clenched again.

“Bullshit,” Mason threw right back, standing between us. He turned to face off against his brother. His back was to me. “For all we know, this is about her. Maybe she’s the one he’s obsessed with? Maybe he’s saving her for last?”

“And how would you know all this?” Logan’s voice was so biting. “You seem to have put a lot of thought into this already.”

Mason tensed. “Walk away, Logan. Before you say something that’ll affect our family.”

“Shit.” It was so soft, so lethal. “Something already has.”

But he walked away, and I moved into Mason, resting my forehead against his back. We stayed like that for I don’t know how long, but I didn’t want to move.

* * *

The cops came, and everything was repeated.

Enduring the cops was a nightmare in and of itself, but I answered the questions. We were moved to another hotel. The crime scene was too close to where we were staying. They wanted to search the hotel anyways. Once everything died down, I just sat there.

They never found Channing. They were supposed to tell us the moment they did.

It was Taylor.

We were trying to get our bearings.

Then it was Heather.

“Sam?”

It was three in the morning, but no one was sleeping. Mason and Nate had both gone to check on Logan, but I wasn’t in the room with them. I didn’t want to go in there, not yet. I looked over now. Mason was closing Logan’s door behind him, crossing to where I was sitting. I was smack dab in the living room, facing the hotel door. The lights were off except for the soft glow from two lamps in the corners. I would’ve thought it was a romantic setting, if I didn’t know the reason we were there.

“Hey,” I murmured back.

His hand came to my shoulder, sliding to the back of my neck. I closed my eyes, relaxing into his touch. I sought solace there, but only for a second. I couldn’t any longer than that. There were things to do, emotions to ignore, and a killer to handle. I was shoving down all the normal emotions a person might have after having two friends murdered in such a quick amount of time.

I was stewing.

I was letting my anger churn inside of me. It was giving me fuel to keep going, and that was all I had at that moment.

Mason stepped closer and I rested my head against his stomach. He asked, sliding his fingers up through my hair, “How are you?”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk at that moment. I reached up and held on to his arm, keeping him anchored to me, and he moved in even closer.

No, that wasn’t right before, to think I only had my anger left. I still had Mason and Logan.

Mason was comforting me, content to let me not talk. I was drawing in strength just by being near him. He was reaffirming what I needed to do.

I looked back at that door.

I was waiting. That’s what I was doing.

And as if the killer could see me, could know what I was doing, a snarl came to my lips. Come and get me, you asshole.

And as if I could hear him too, he murmured in my head, I’ll be right there.