Jaci Burton

The Heart of a Killer


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are our foster parents.”

       “Oh, can it, Roman.” Dante shoved an elbow into Roman’s ribs. “They’re the best parents we’ve ever had in all our shitty lives and you know it. Why don’t you give up the poor-lost-boy act?”

       “Yeah,” Jeff said. “We’re together. We don’t get in trouble. We eat three squares and they’re nice to us. They’re good parents.”

       Roman shrugged. “I guess.”

       “No ‘I guess’ about it,” Gabe said. “You’re just pissed off because you lost the race over here.” Gabe nudged him. Roman nudged back, and soon the two of them were tangled in arms and elbows and laughing, which made Anna exhale as the tension receded.

       She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to grow up without parents, shuffled from foster home to foster home. She’d known them since her freshman year, when she’d met Dante and the rest of the guys. They were like brothers to her. Well, all except Dante. Definitely not a brother to her. “How about some ice cream?”

       “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Jeff grinned and leaned over the case, scoping out the flavors.

       They told her what they wanted and she served it up. While they ate she finished putting everything away, then bagged up the trash. “I’m going to take this out back while you eat. Then we can go watch movies at my house. My dad rented a couple of horror movies for us.”

       “I’ll take that out back for you.” Dante stood and started to come behind the counter.

       “Nope.” She held out her hand. “It will only take a sec. Finish your ice cream. I want to get out of here.”

       “You sure?”

       “I’m sure. Your job is to watch over the horde. Make sure they don’t drip or break anything or I’ll have to start cleanup all over again.”

       “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wink.

       Anna laughed, grabbed the trash and headed out the back door of the shop into the alley. The Dumpster was a short walk over.

       The ice-cream shop was set in a series of tall buildings, mainly offices that housed banks and corporations. The shop stayed open late anyway because of the movie theater across the street. Kids always stopped by after the last show. But that meant there were no restaurants or retail and the alley was deserted at night. Creepy as hell for all the kids who worked at the shop, but Anna enjoyed the quiet. Her tennis shoes squicked on the wet ground, the sound echoing off the walls of the buildings.

       It was so hot tonight. It had rained earlier and she dodged puddles and discarded soda cans and miscellaneous trash as she made her way down the dark alley. Humidity sucked the breath from her and she was wet with sweat by the time she got to the Dumpster.

       She lifted the lid, holding her breath as she hoisted the trash into the container, then hurriedly dropped the lid. Ugh. She hated this part. It smelled so bad in there, like something died. She always imagined something decaying in there, like an animal or even a body. The drawback of having a police-detective father and listening to horror stories at the dinner table about where he’d found the latest victim. Yeah, this alley would be a perfect dumping spot, too. Isolated, no one around at night to witness what went down.

       And now she’d creeped herself out. Great.

       Shuddering, she turned to head back to the shop, when an arm snaked around her waist and jerked her backward.

       Her scream went unheard as his hand clamped tight to her mouth. She squirmed, trying to get away, but his other arm was a band around her, pinning her arms tight to her sides. She kicked out, but he dragged her behind the Dumpster, then fell with her, immediately turning to drop on top of her.

       Rocks jabbed into her back as she hit the ground, the breath knocked from her. He was so heavy. His hand was still over her mouth.

      No. No!

      Her heart pounded so fast she felt the slamming against her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Nausea surged in her throat. She was going to throw up. The ground was wet from the rain earlier tonight. It stunk behind the Dumpster. What did he want? He was rolling on top of her, pinning her with his body.

       She needed to scream, to let Dante know where she was, but the man’s hand still clamped tight over her mouth.

       “Don’t scream, bitch, or I’ll kill you,” he whispered against her ear.

       She felt something sharp against her throat. A knife.

       Oh, God. Oh, God. She froze, tried to still her shaking body, not wanting to do anything that would make him stab her.

       Was she going to die?

       His breath was bad, just as bad as the garbage in the Dumpster. She felt something hard between her legs as he moved against her.

      Please, help me. Somebody help me.

      The guys weren’t far away. Did she leave the back door to the shop open? She couldn’t remember. If only she could scream they might hear her. She was sweating and cold, shivering so hard. Something underneath her was scratching her. She struggled to push him off so she could catch a breath, but he was stronger than she was.

      Please get off me. I just want to breathe. I can’t breathe!

      They’d come help her. They’d get here in time. If only she could scream. She had to get out of this. This couldn’t be happening to her.

       She squeezed her eyes shut.

       Buttons scattered across the alley as he jerked her blouse open, revealing her little pink bra. She’d worn the blouse for Dante, her favorite blouse. Pink and white checks with tiny heart buttons. She’d even chosen white shorts to match. She was lying on the filthy ground now in her white shorts, felt the moisture from the ground seeping through, knew they’d be ruined. She was ruined. Tears pricked her eyes, the burn making her blink. She didn’t know whether to keep her eyes open, to try to see what he looked like, or keep them shut so she wouldn’t recognize him, so he might let her live.

       What was it her dad had always tried to teach her? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be inside the shop with the guys. The guys were in there. They’d help her.

       He grabbed her breast, squeezed it hard. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. He moved the knife down along her throat to her chest.

       “You’re mine, bitch. Always mine.”

       He cut through her bra. She was shaking so hard now that chills racked her body. He bent down and licked her nipple.

       Bile rose in her throat and she turned her head away. She wouldn’t watch. She couldn’t.

       But now she remembered what her dad said. Fight. Don’t give in.

       This was different. No way was she going to die. She’d do anything not to die.

       Then he cut her. Oh, God, he was cutting her. It burned like her skin was on fire. She felt the warm trickle of blood down her chest. Nothing had ever hurt this bad. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

       And then she knew. He was going to kill her.

       Her dad was right. She had to fight. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to go lying here and letting him do what he wanted to her.

       She opened her eyes, stared at him, memorized his face. She wanted him to know she saw him. Then she bit down on his hand and he jerked it away. Taking that brief second, she opened her mouth and screamed. He slapped her so hard she couldn’t think through the dizziness.

       He clamped his hand over her mouth again, his other hand jerking at her shorts.

      Please, please, somebody help me!

       “Anna’s taking a long time with the trash.” Dante got up and went behind the counter toward the back door.

       “You know she gets mad