Her peripheral vision registered the man who’d been at the edge of the woods standing in the grass of the front lawn, hands in his pockets. She looked up and time stopped. They stared at each other, eyes locked. He didn’t move toward her, didn’t threaten. Then he nodded, puckered up his lips and blew her a kiss. Taylor blinked, hard, not believing what her mind was telling her was happening, and he was gone. Not more than two seconds had passed.

“Oh, my God,” she yelled. She slammed the door shut and threw the bolt. Jesus, she’d had a clear shot at him. She’d never raised her weapon. What in the hell?

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Had she frozen? Had he been a figment of her imagination? Her training was unconscious at this point, she should have leveled her weapon and taken a shot. Why hadn’t she? Confusion flooded in; she came back when she heard yelling.

“What, what?” Baldwin was roaring in her ear. She ignored him for the moment, ran upstairs and secured a second and third magazine for her gun. She came back to the top of the stairs, sat on the step. Putting the gun in her lap, she opened her cell phone, called in to dispatch. Two phones, one gun, and one suspect who was playing tricks with her head. She didn’t like the odds.

“Hold on,” she said to Baldwin as dispatch came through the line.

“Nashville dispatch.”

“This is Lieutenant Jackson. Code three, 10-51, 10-54. Repeat, 10-51, 10-54! Officer needs assistance code three. I need bodies at my location, my home address immediately. I have a suspect on my property, armed and dangerous, repeat, armed and dangerous. He’s just killed two security guards on my front step. I don’t have him in my sights—I am locked inside the house. I need you rolling now!”

“Oh, dear, sweet Jesus.” Baldwin was cursing in her right ear. Dispatch was moving, incredulous at her call.

“Lieutenant, confirm that for me again. You’ve got a 10-51, 10-54, code three, officers down. We are rolling, lights and sirens, Lieutenant, ETA three minutes. You all right?”

“Confirmed, off-duty officers down. I am uninjured, but I’ll be better when y’all get here. Tell them the 254

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suspect is six-two, brown on brown, wearing tan pants, cream sweater, blue windbreaker.”

“Will do, LT. Be careful.”

She hung up. She could hear the faint screams of the sirens already, knew she’d be fine, but her hands were shaking. She slipped the cell back into its belt hook, palmed the Glock. He couldn’t unlock doors and get inside that quickly, and even if he did, she had her weapon trained on the stairwell, locked on the front door. Sweat beaded on her forehead, in the small of her back, between her breasts. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to force the adrenaline back into dormancy. Anger replaced the physical rush. She hissed at Baldwin.

“What in the name of all that’s holy is happening here? And how do you know this person? Talk fast, the cavalry is coming.”

“Oh, Taylor. I am so sorry. I should have trusted my own judgment. I knew you were in danger, I just didn’t realize he’d move so quickly. I’m getting on a plane. I’ve already got the pilots gassing up and revving the engines. I’ll be wheels up in fifteen minutes. When they clear the scene, get out of there. Go to the office, make sure you’ve got a guard on you. If it makes you feel better, it’s me he wants.”

“Who wants? Baldwin, you are making no sense.”

There was banging on her door. She looked out the front window, there were four police cruisers and multiple people milling across her front yard. “They’re here. I need to go deal with this. You’re coming now?”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Who is he, Baldwin?” She walked down the stairs, listening to his struggle on the other end of the phone. Judas Kiss

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Knowing he was coming somehow gave her the courage to open the door, allowing the sight of the two dead security guards to fill her with horror again. Weapons were everywhere, black and dangerous, bristling with unvented fury. Officers surrounded her house, scattering like quail into the backyard and the forest beyond. The scent of blood was strong in the air; the dogs across the street were baying in frantic unhappiness.

“Who is he?” she asked again.

“His name is Aiden,” Baldwin answered. “It might as well be Death.”

Twenty-Seven

Taylor was sitting in the break room at the CJC, toying with a Styrofoam cup. She looked at the fat industrial wall clock for the thousandth time. Damn it, it was nearly noon. When were they going to come talk to her? And where was Baldwin?

This sense of doom, of not being able to do anything, was worse than anything she’d ever felt. Waiting wasn’t exactly what she was built to do. Kick ass, take names, and worry about the ramifications later, that was her job. Sitting around being protected, that wasn’t on the menu when she check-marked the box and signed up to be a cop. She was the one who was supposed to be doing the protecting.

Instead, she sat in this overly bright room, away from the nexus of communication. Hell, she hadn’t even been allowed to drive herself to the office. Baldwin must have called in to Price, because a burly patrol officer named Bud had bodily taken her from the house and thrown her into his cruiser. He screamed off into the quickening morning with her in the passenger Judas Kiss

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seat, slightly dazed at the ferocity of his action. She wasn’t accustomed to being pushed around. Price had met her at the doors to the CJC, his mustache drooping. Fatigue, anger, hunger—all showed up in the man’s facial hair. Taylor had learned to read the twitching of his lips before looking into his eyes long ago. When she realized he was worn-out, she did look him in the eye. What she saw there worried her. More was happening than she was being told. She’d been debriefed, escorted to this room, handed a cup of coffee and told to sit tight. Price had shut the door behind her and she’d half waited to hear the sound of the lock being thrown. It hadn’t, but she decided she’d listen to her boss and sit still. The minutes ticked by, ten, fifteen, thirty, forty-five, fifty-five. Nearly an hour passed with no word. The clock slammed into the top of the hour and she couldn’t take it anymore. Oh, screw this, she thought. She stood, tossed the cup in the trash and got her hand on the door. She opened it to see Baldwin coming at her like a heatseeking missile. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled. There was still a tiny bit of lingering tension after their fight, but when he put his mouth on hers, all was forgotten. She luxuriated in his kiss, in his nearness. She wrapped her arms around his body, wondering if he was always this warm. She didn’t want to be the one who ended the kiss, waited for him to pull back. When he did, she stepped away, breathless, slammed the door and crossed her arms across her chest.

“That took more than an hour. Talk,” she commanded.

“Wait a minute,” he replied. “Price is—”

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The door to the break room opened again and she jumped out of the way. Price entered the room. He didn’t speak, just helped himself to a cup of coffee. He sat at the table, took a healthy gulp and grimaced.

“God, that’s bad. It must be old.” He reached over his shoulder and tossed the remains in the sink, set the cup down on the table with a soft plop, then sighed heavily.

“Captain, what is going on?” Taylor’s words were measured. She was starting to get highly annoyed. Price and Baldwin shared a look. Price’s nod was barely perceptible. Baldwin gestured to the chair, indicating Taylor should go ahead and have a seat. With a glare at them both, she did.

“What?” she asked.

“Okay.” Baldwin pulled out a chair with a scrape, and sat. “There are two things happening right now. We’re searching the woods behind our house for Aiden. He is exceptionally dangerous, and pissed off at me, which makes him even more frightening.”