Insatiable Desire by Rita Herron Read Free Book Online

when the small town heard about the murder, panic would spread. Three suspicious deaths in one week was a hell of a lot. Granted, the heat wave hadn’t helped. Just as the full moon seemed to drive out the crazies, so did the high temperatures. But the MOs were all different, so the murders couldn’t be connected like Clarissa had said.
    Could they?
    He glanced at Clarissa, and his gut clenched at the horror etched on her face. Tears streaked her pale cheeks, but she brushed them away as if angry with herself.
    Forcing a detachment to his expression, he focused on the crime scene. The amount of blood suggested a sadistic killer who had enjoyed his game of torture. Multiple stab wounds, blood smeared all over the woman’s flesh, the depth of the slice to her throat . . .
    How could a human do such a sadistic thing to another?
    He mentally put together a profile—the killer was male. Out of control. Angry. But he also was a planner.
    Clarissa curled her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together. “He’s not finished, Vincent.”
    Worry tinged her voice, fear making it warble. She’d accused him of being afraid that he would never be able to end the evil in the world, but he’d denied it.
    But she’d been right.
    He heard that same fear in her voice now.
    On the heels of that realization, his damn protective instincts kicked in, and he wanted to offer her comfort. Hold her in his arms. Banish that grisly sight from her eyes. Assure her that he would catch this maniac.
    But he did none of that.
    He couldn’t let himself care about Clarissa any more than anyone else on the planet.
    Work and emotions didn’t mix. Although he didn’t have to have emotions to have sex with her.
    You’re not going there, Valtrez. Not with Clarissa King.
    Muttering another curse, he turned back to do what he did best. Leave her to slay her own demons while he forced himself to step into a killer’s mind.
    Every time he did, it was a test of restraint.
    A test to prove that he wouldn’t turn into one himself and let the evil in his soul, in his
bad
blood, overpower him as it had his father.
    The stench of blood, body fluids, human sorrow, horror, filled Clarissa’s nostrils, obliterating the sweet smell of honeysuckle in the air, even the lingering odor of charred wood from Hell’s Hollow.
    Clarissa shuddered again at the sight of Tracy’s mutilated body. What kind of person would do this to another human?
    Blood soaked Tracy’s gaunt face, and her eyes looked glassy, frozen with terror and shock. Her head hung grotesquely to the side, nearly severed, as if it might fall off if one touched it . . .
    And the bugs . . . dear Lord, they were crawling and feasting on her, drinking her blood for sustenance. Above, vultures careened, waiting for their turn, and Clarissa swallowed to keep from losing the contents of her stomach.
    A shout erupted from the hill near the road. Pivoting, she saw Ronnie Canton running up the embankment, gravel spewing from his heels as he wove through the trees. The deputy lurched forward to grab him and keep him behind the crime-scene tape.
    “You found Tracy?” Ronnie shouted. “My God, is she all right?”
    “Hang on there, Ronnie.” The deputy shielded Ronnie from the sight of his sister’s mutilated body. “You don’t need to see this.”
    But Ronnie spotted Tracy, collapsed onto his knees in the dirt, and howled like an injured animal.
    Vincent’s jaw tightened as if hardening himself to the man’s pain.
    Clarissa folded her arms across her chest. Didn’t he care about anyone?
    “Who is that?” he asked quietly.
    “Tracy’s brother.” Clarissa sprang into counselor mode as she rushed toward the lanky young man. By the time she reached him, the deputy had helped Ronnie to sit on a tree root. His wails echoed off the mountain, shrill and anguished.
    “Ronnie, I’m so sorry,” Clarissa said gently.
    He fell against her, sobbing and mumbling incoherently. His tears soaked her top,