Page 49 of I’ll Be Watching You

It wasn’t sitting well with him.

It hadn’t been sitting well with him since the minute he saw her.

He hadn’t thought it would be that difficult. He hadn’t thought twice when he fired two bullets into her husband. But Liz Swanson had looked at him, her blue eyes wide, and he hesitated. Just for a second, but it had been the only time he had hesitated the seventeen times he’d killed for money over the last fifteen years.

Because women were to love, not to kill.

“Baby, why you up so late?”

Vanessa walked over to him as he stood against the glass wall on the edge of his property. He’d put in glass so that he could see the city spread out in front of him whether he was standing or swimming in his pool. He liked things of beauty. Women. Houses. Views. He was naked, but no one could see him up on his hill, and the only lights on were the pool lights. And if they could see him? He didn’t care.

He looked at her; she’d put on a robe, the white silk bright against her beautiful, flawless brown skin. It was cold but he didn’t feel it.

“Come back to bed,” she said, running her hand up his arm to his face, then kissing him.

Vanessa was a regular. They had a good thing. She was married, but her husband traveled more than he was at home and probably knew she was having an affair. He didn’t care because he was probably screwing around as well. Carter preferred married women because they never wanted anything permanent. They appreciated his attention to detail, the way he made them feel. He didn’t have to worry about any of them becoming overly attached.

“No,” he said. “I have things on my mind I need to sort out.”

“Can I help?”

He didn’t say anything, and she went down on her knees. The sight of her in a submissive position turned him on. When she touched him, he grew hard.

He was always ready for sex.

He let her take him deep into her mouth, even though his mind was elsewhere. Even though his mind couldn’t stop thinking about those beautiful, terrified blue eyes.

Vanessa rose several minutes later. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Vanessa was the opposite of Liz Swanson. Liz was innocent. Vanessa was anything but.

“Drop your robe and turn around.”

She hesitated. Maybe because of his tone, maybe because it was chilly outside. He gently untied the sash and pushed the robe from her shoulders. Ran his hands down her naked body, then he turned her around so they both faced the valley below.

“Carter,” she said, “maybe—” then she gasped when he entered her from behind. She gripped the banister. “Yes,” she said, her voice quivering with surprise and desire.

He adjusted her feet so that he could go deeper. She held on to the railing, he held on to her hips. He had to forget about Liz Swanson. He had to put her away, away in a box that he would never open again.

He closed his eyes, focused on his cock, focused on giving Vanessa the most intense orgasm of her life. She screamed when she came, her voice echoing into the night, chanting his name over and over. And finally, when he felt Vanessa’s legs quake, he held her up, pushed in deep, and let go, screaming out his pain and rage into the dark with a feral cry that tore through his body.

He had violated his one code of honor.

He had killed a woman.

He didn’t know if he would be able to keep a lid on that box.

Chapter Seventeen

Margo Angelhart

I slept like a rock for four hours, but at six fifteen Thursday morning I was wide-awake, my mind spinning with everything I had to do.

I tried to slide out of bed quietly, but Cal reached over and pulled me back toward him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”