Bennett’s finger started to squeeze that trigger.
“This is almost like the way your father went out,” the man murmured to Ivy. “Isn’t it? Except the gun is at the back of my head, not being forced into my mouth by Cameron.”
Ivy’s face bleached of its last remaining bit of color. She lifted the knife, as if she’d stab the man again.
“Don’t, Ivy,” Bennett said because…shit, hadn’t he suspected the same thing? That Cameron had killed Ivy’s father? But how—how did the man in front of him know that?
That’s how your fucking house of cards goes down, down, down…
“He’s lying!” Cameron yelled from behind Bennett. Bennett didn’t look at him. He was afraid that if he took his eyes off the dark-haired man, the guy would go for Ivy once more. “You know…Ivy you know I always protect you!”
But…
Did he?
The man before Bennett lifted his hands. “I’ll tell you everything, Detective. All our secrets.”
Our secrets?
“All our lies…”
Our…
The man laughed again. “All our kills…and dear cousin Cameron planned so many of them—”
“No!” Cameron shouted and then—then Bennett felt a white-hot pain in his back. Fast and deep, cutting through flesh and muscle, sinking into him. It was a familiar pain. One that the Greenville Trapper had made sure he’d never forget.
That bastard Cameron just stabbed a knife into my back.
“Bennett!” Ivy screamed. She tried to shove past the dark-haired killer and grab for Bennett, but the man’s hands flew out and locked around Ivy. He caught her around the waist even as his other hand flew out and twisted her wrist, squeezing it so that she was forced to drop her knife. The butcher knife clattered down the stairs as Ivy struggled against him. She dropped her body, yanking down hard in an attempt to force her freedom.
And when she dropped, Bennett fired his gun. The bullet flew right toward the dark-haired SOB. It sank into his chest. The guy’s mouth opened in shock, then he slumped down on Ivy.
Bennett wanted to whirl and fire at Cameron. The traitorous jerk was behind him. He’d yanked the knife out of Bennett’s back and he was—
Cameron put the blade to Bennett’s throat. “Drop the gun, now.”
Bennett didn’t drop his weapon. If he did that, then Cameron would slice open his jugular. And while Bennett bled out, Cameron would attack Ivy.
Not happening.
Ivy shoved the other man off her. He fell in a heap, sagging against the stair railing. His eyes were closed. Blood covered his chest. Bennett thought he’d hit the guy’s heart, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Drop the gun,” Cameron said.
The fool had made a mistake. He’d stopped to give orders. He should have just tried to cut Bennett’s throat when he had the chance. Cameron thought that Bennett valued his own life—more than anything else. That the threat of death would work to control him.
So wrong.
Ivy mattered more to him than his own life.
In the distance, he could hear the shriek of police sirens. They wouldn’t get there in time, though, not in time to stop him.
Bennett smiled at Ivy. He knew he’d have to move fast. And he knew that Cameron might cut him too deep. It was a risk he had to take.
Another psycho with a knife…story of my life.
But he wasn’t scared of this psycho. He was just pissed.
Ivy was crouched on the stairs. She shook her head as she gazed up at him. “Bennett…”
I love you.
Then—in a lightning fast move—Bennett twisted his wrist, aiming the gun behind him, and he fired back as fast as he could, pulling the trigger on his weapon. He could feel the burn of the bullet slide past his own side as it flew back and sank deep into Cameron’s stomach.
Cameron grunted at the impact, and then his knife sliced across Bennett’s throat as he stumbled back. But Bennett was already moving, too, spinning around fast so the blade barely nicked the surface of his skin. Bennett brought his gun up. He aimed it right between Cameron’s eyes.
Cameron dropped the knife. He staggered, falling down to the bottom of the stairs as he grabbed his stomach. “You…you shot me!”
Hell, yes, he had.
Cameron curled up even more. His face was chalk white and his eyes burned with hate.
“Ivy!” Bennett desperately called her name. He needed to touch her. To hold her. But he wasn’t taking his aim off Cameron. He had the feeling that sick jerk was just waiting for a weak moment so he could attack again.
But then she was there. Wrapping her arms around his stomach. Holding tight. Warm. Soft. Alive.
“No!” Cameron yelled. “No, she doesn’t go back to you!” He straightened up, but kept one hand over his bleeding gut. “Not after all I did…”
“All of those women,” Bennett said because he’d figured it out. “They were her, weren’t they? Only it wasn’t just one killer hunting…” Now it made sense to him. Two different cities…two different killers. One in New Orleans. One in Mobile.