Ivy wasn’t letting him in.
Cameron backed away from her front door. He was lucky the neighbors hadn’t already called the cops on him. But he’d been forced to yell and pound at Ivy’s door so she’d know it was him out there. He hadn’t brought his phone with him when he’d ditched those cops who’d been on his trail. He’d needed her to know it was him on her porch. Needed her to understand that she was safe.
After their little chat at the station, it had been abundantly clear that Bennett suspected him. The guy’s green gaze had glittered with fury as he stared at Cameron. So who knew what shit the detective had told Ivy? He had to reassure her.
Only Ivy still hadn’t answered the door.
Because she believed Bennett’s lies or…
He jumped off her porch and stared up at the house. Ivy’s room was to the left. And the guest room was to the right. The blinds were drawn in the guest room.
He looked back over his shoulder. A sedan was at the end of the street. It looked like an unmarked police car to him. But…if it was…if Ivy was in the house with a cop…
She would have answered the door.
Ivy was his friend. There was only one reason she wouldn’t let him in.
Because she’s in trouble.
Dammit, Ivy needed him.
He ran around to the back of the house. Her back door was made partially of glass. The front door was too hard to break through, but the back—I’ll bust my way inside.
Because he was getting to Ivy.
***
Ivy rushed off the stairs. She flew toward the guest room.
And she nearly ran into the man who was waiting for her. A tall man, with broad shoulders. A man wearing a white Mardi Gras mask that totally covered his face. The mask covered everything, except his bright blue eyes.
She looked into those eyes…and saw evil staring back at her.
She jumped away from him and lifted her knife. “Who the hell are you?”
His eyes gleamed. “The man in the mask…”
He was just a few feet away from Hugh’s door. And there was…there was a bloody knife in his hand.
Her lips trembled. “What did you do?”
“I made sure we could be alone.” He made no move toward her. Just held his knife.
She held hers.
“Mirror, mirror…pretty broken mirror…” he whispered.
She inched down the hallway. “Hugh?” His name emerged as a broken cry. She tried again. Louder. “Hugh?”
The man in the mask laughed. “He can’t answer…”
Her fingers tightened around her butcher knife.
“Such a shame…”
He’d said that before. In that dark corridor at the Order of Pharaohs ball.
Inside, Ivy was breaking apart. Breath by breath. Her heart was splintering. But she tried her best not to show any fear. She suspected he’d like her fear too much. “The police are coming.”
His bright blue gaze darted to her knife. “Think you’ll kill me before they get here?”
Yes. Because if he’d stabbed her brother, if he’d taken Hugh from her, I will kill him.
“I’m not the one you should fear, sweet Ivy. It was never my plan.”
Glass shattered. The sharp sound came from downstairs and Ivy jerked. Her gaze flew toward the stairs.
And the man in the mask lunged toward her.
“No!” Ivy lifted her knife and she drove it into his stomach. There was a sickening, wet sound as that blade cut deep and his blue eyes widened.
“Ivy…” Anger and pain twisted in his voice.
Her knife was still in his stomach.
And his knife was at her throat. She remembered another time. Another knife. Sebastian Jones’s step-father had wanted to cut her throat, too.
But she’d held him off.
Then Hugh and Cameron had arrived…
“Ivy!”
Relief nearly made her dizzy. That was Cameron’s voice. Cameron pounded up the stairs. Her alarm was shrieking, and she knew that he must have broken in through her back door. That shattering she’d heard had been the door’s glass panel breaking.
“If you move,” the man in the mask told her, “I will cut you ear to ear.”
She had her knife buried to the hilt in him but he was still standing there, like some terrible movie monster, far too strong.
“Ivy…” Cameron sounded so close. So desperate.
Her gaze slid toward him. He was right at the landing, and his gaze glittered wildly.
“The police are coming,” she managed to say, choking back her fear. “He’s not going to get away.”
Cameron shook his head. “No. He won’t. I promise you that.”
Cameron was wearing jogging shorts and a t-shirt. His body was covered in a light film of sweat, as if he’d run to her house.
“I know a secret,” the man in the mask said to Ivy, his voice nearly gloating. “Want to hear it?”
Then he leaned in real close to her.
Her fingers were slick around the handle of her butcher knife, slick with his blood and her sweat.
The masked man’s lips feathered over her ear. “You’re not safe…”