Predatory

The first man nodded toward his friend. “Forgot to introduce myself. I’m Tony and the big guy is Len. Takes size to handle the stones.”



“Hi.” Cassie smiled at both men. No way was she giving her name. If the funeral director got cranky because Felicity had called in random secretarial help while he was gone, Cassie didn’t want to be in the line of fire. “About those keys. Why don’t you wait here for a moment? I’ll find them and bring them right back.” She did not want to take that elevator anywhere.



“Can’t waste time waiting for you. I have someplace to be in twenty minutes. Besides, I might need your help.” Tony held her gaze. “Oh, and make sure you press the bottom button.”



Help? For what? Musical accompaniment? He could hack away at his tombstone in time with her chattering teeth. But she couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t make her look like the giant wuss she really was.



The two men walked past her, heading for the elevator.



“Oh, um, do you know where Mr. Garrity is?” In fact, where anybody was? There hadn’t been one person in the place when she’d arrived. She refused to think about the non-living that probably populated the basement.



Len answered her. “Mr. Garrity was also called away on an . . . emergency.” He seemed to think that was funny, because he smiled.



Cassie thought he had a sinister smile. Okay, maybe not. Her imagination was a terrible thing. Proof? Nonexistent zombies shambling down the hallway. To stop herself from babbling something that would get Felicity in trouble, she turned and walked back to the office.



On the way there, it occurred to her that the men wouldn’t save any time by making her bring the keys downstairs because they’d still have to wait for her to unlock the door. She shrugged the thought away.



Keys, keys . . . She found them in the top drawer of the desk. That part had been easy. Now for the tough part. She had to go back to the elevator, walk inside, and hit the down button.



By the time she reached the elevator, she’d almost made herself believe that this whole experience was a character-building event. She’d be stronger for having spent time at Eternal Rest. You are such a liar.



Inside the car, she had a choice of three unlabeled buttons. The funeral home was only one story, so that meant ground level and two levels below ground. Weird. She hit the bottom one. All the way down she tried to convince her heart it didn’t need to pump gallons of extra blood so she could handle a few minutes among the dead. Her heart didn’t believe her. It redoubled its efforts.



The elevator doors slid open, and Cassie stepped out. She was in a long wide hallway with closed doors lining both sides. Was this usual for a funeral home? The lights were a little too dim, the shadows a little too deep. Relieved, she saw Tony and Len waiting for her at the end of the hall in front of the door on the right.



Please, no bodies, no bodies, no bodies. Her legs felt rubbery by the time she reached the men. They moved aside so she could open the door. She was proud that her hand didn’t shake as she slipped the key labeled with the number eight into the lock and turned it. Cassie pushed the door open and then started to step aside.



After that, things happened too fast for her to react. Tony reached into the room and flipped on a light at the same time someone gave her a hard shove. She stumbled into the room, tripped over something on the floor, and went down hard on her hands and knees. She heard the door slam shut behind her.



She opened her mouth to scream. Then she looked down. The scream froze in her throat.



She was kneeling in a pool of blood—



And staring into Felicity’s sightless eyes.



Dead. Felicity was dead.



Cassie couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.



She didn’t see her best friend sprawled on that floor, didn’t see the girl she’d shared notes with in school, the woman who’d comforted her when she’d lost her job. Cassie only saw—



A dead body. She was kneeling next to a dead body. Whimpering, she scooted backward, still on her hands and knees. The blood smeared, sticky on her hands, soaking into her jeans.



Never get it out, never get it out. Panicked, she knelt up and tried to wipe her hands on her top.



“Gee, looks like your friend had more of an emergency than she expected.” Tony’s voice.



His soft laughter jerked her back to some level of sanity. Scrambling to her feet, she whirled to face the two men standing in front of the only door.



She still couldn’t force any sound from her locked throat muscles, clenched teeth. But she didn’t need to, because Tony had plenty to say.



“Mr. Garrity got a call on his cell phone from a Mrs. Hodges. She was really upset that you couldn’t help her when she called. Said the regular woman was a lot more efficient.” He took a step toward her.



Cassie backed up a step, her eyes riveted on what he held in his hand. The long pointed tool now looked exactly like what it was—a weapon.



“This really upset Mr. Garrity. See, no one should’ve been here to answer any phones. And since he was tied up with his . . . emergency, he asked us to take care of the problem. Lucky that we live close by.”



She was going to die. Just like Felicity. She’d be lying in a pool of her own blood staring at the ceiling. Funny, the thought of dying didn’t paralyze her with fear. It was just the bodies. It had always been the bodies.



“Why?” She forced the one word past lips that felt numb. Not much, but it was at least a start. Don’t look at the body, don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.



Tony shrugged. “No need to know all the details. Besides, I was telling the truth about that appointment. Let’s just say your friend found something she wasn’t supposed to find and was running off to give it to someone we didn’t want to have it. So we stopped her.” He smiled. “Now we’re going to stop you.”



She saw the intention in his eyes as he started toward her. Survive. That’s all that mattered. Weapon. There had to be something. Panicked, she bumped into a table beside her. An empty glass sitting near the edge fell to the floor and shattered. Without thinking, she crouched and picked up the largest shard.



Len chuckled. “Looks like the little girl thinks she can defend herself.”



Tony wasn’t laughing. He launched himself at her, ready to bury the tool’s point in her heart. Then she’d be just a body, a body, a . . .



No! Cassie reacted. Lessons learned from years of modern dance kicked in. She might not have the talent to be a professional dancer, but she knew the moves.



Leaping into the air, she spun away from Tony’s charge. At the same time she slashed at him with her glass shard. She was too terrified to aim. But she’d hurt him. She’d felt the resistance of the glass digging into his flesh.



Sobbing, she whirled to fend off another charge. A charge that didn’t come.



Silence filled the room. Then she heard Len cursing. Glancing down, she saw Tony sprawled on the floor. Saw the moment he died, his throat sliced open. Saw the blood pouring from the wound. The body. She dropped the bloodstained shard.



Nothing to protect yourself with now. The thought floated around in her mind, for the moment overwhelmed by the coppery scent of blood and the memory of the glass cutting, ripping, ending a life.



She supposed she was lucky then that Len didn’t attack her right away. Forcing herself to think instead of just feel, she looked at him.



But he wasn’t watching her. He was staring past her at . . . She turned.



The horrors never ended. A transparent coffin rested on another table. A man’s body lay inside. He was naked, and his pale skin gleamed under the ceiling light. Someone had set a headstone beside the table. Only two things about the stone registered.



A sick mind had created that image. It was an etching of the man in his coffin with thick chains wrapped around almost every inch of his body. A huge padlock trapped the man inside. The etched lock almost seemed to glow.



And a name. Ethan.



“You stupid bitch! You killed the binder.”



Cassie had never heard that much fear in any person’s voice. A binder? What was a—



The man in the coffin turned his head. He opened his eyes and stared at her. Eyes with no pupils, no white, just solid black.



She stopped breathing.



Len screamed, a high keening sound filled with unspeakable terror. He threw himself toward the closed door.



The coffin shattered.



Chapter Two



Cassie flung her hand in front of her eyes and turned her head away to protect herself from flying glass. At the same time, she bent to retrieve her own glass shard. Because beneath her gibbering fear, she still wanted to live. Then she straightened.



Who to face? But her subconscious recognized the real danger. She looked at where the coffin had rested. . . .



At the man crouched among the shattered remains, all smooth bare skin and hard muscle. Cuts from the broken glass dripped blood that trailed over his chest and stomach. His tangled dark hair framed a face that spoke of violence in shadowed planes and sharp edges. He stared at her, his black eyes alive with rage and something so predatory that she stepped back. Len seemed safe compared to this . . . She wasn’t sure anymore. The word “man” suggested human. Too tame a category for what glared back at her. Male. Definitely male.