Shades of Temptation Read Free Page A

Surprise made her hesitate for a moment before she took a step
closer, her own gun braced in front of her. “Put down your—”
    He caught sight of her and
aimed.
    Danger! Protect yourself. Shoot to kill.
    Her mind screamed at her to pull the
trigger, but she didn’t.
    For one second, she hesitated to shoot
him.
    He readjusted his aim.
    “Drop—” she screamed.
    He fired his gun a second before she
did.
    Fire slammed into her leg, immediately
making it buckle. She dropped to the ground. Then he was on her, hitting her
and kicking her, knocking her weapon away. What followed was a blur of pain.
Most of all, however, she was shocked. Stunned.
    She’d missed him. How? She never missed. But she’d been surprised by his
appearance....
    He looked young. So young. How had he
become so ruthless? So strong?
    But despite the pain and her muddled
thoughts, she continued to fight. To claw. To do her own damage. Until she
managed to get to her weapon. Just as he raised his own and pointed it at
her again.
    Another gunshot.
    Her attacker collapsed on her, crushing
the breath from her body before she pushed him off and scrambled
away.
    She stared as a puddle of crimson
immediately oozed out from beneath him.
    For a second, relief made her
dizzy.
    Then relief turned into horror.
    His still body twitched. Moved. Sat
up.
    He looked at her.
    Raised his gun and pointed it straight
between her eyes.
    Grinned. And fired.
    * * *
    C ARRIE WOKE AND SAT UP in bed. Her heart
thudded in her chest, and her body was soaked with sweat. Her gaze skittered
around her, searching for signs of danger. She saw only her grandmother’s
antique dresser. Various watercolors. Framed photos on her nightstand.
    The familiar sights did little to calm her.
    Panic wound through her, gaining speed and strength until it
felt like a tornado. Black dots flashed in front of her, spinning around until
they blurred together, making her feel dizzy.
    She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, on repeating
the self-talk she and Lana, a member of DOJ’s Behavioral Sciences and
Psychiatric Liaison Unit, had been working on.
    She was safe. She was okay. It had just been a dream. She was
okay.
    When that didn’t work, she imagined herself blowing into a
balloon. Filling it up with her pain. Until it floated away. Until she was
empty.
    Finally, her heartbeat returned to normal. She leaned back,
pulled the blankets closer to her chin and stared out at the dark sky.
    As sleep continued to elude her, Carrie threw off the blankets,
suddenly feeling suffocated and trapped. She threw out her limbs, stretching the
length and width of the mattress to counter the feeling.
    Accepting that her chance for sleep had passed, she got out of
bed and went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. As she waited for it to
brew, she leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest,
rubbing her hands over the chilled flesh that was prickled with goose bumps. She
wished she could crawl back into bed and hide under the warm covers, but she
couldn’t.
    She looked at her refrigerator door and the piece of paper
she’d placed there. A child’s drawing, one made years ago by Kevin Porter and
one his grandmother had mailed her, along with a note cursing Carrie to hell for
killing the woman’s precious grandson. She should have logged it into evidence.
Instead, she looked at it each morning and each night before she went to
bed.
    Carrie closed her eyes and rubbed her hands over her face. No
wonder she had nightmares. God, she was twisted.
    She’d had no choice but to shoot Kevin Porter. She knew that.
He’d already shot her once, had continued to assault her, and he’d still had his
gun. But in the end, she’d taken a life. The life of a sixteen-year-old boy
who’d been jacked up on drugs. One whose grandmother swore was a good kid who’d
just happened to get involved with the wrong crowd at school.
    She didn’t keep his picture to torture herself but to remind
herself