need had grown to the point of urgency. He went over his guidelines, the memory of his only mistake still haunting him.
He wouldn’t let himself be swayed by an alluring whiff of perfume. Nor would he risk a woman carrying anything that could be used as a weapon at a distance like an umbrella.
Then there was her hair and attire. It would surprise most women to know that what made her his target was her hairstyle. There was a reason women with short hair were not common prey of men like him. Give him a woman with a ponytail—a recent trend that filled him with joy—or a braid or even a bun—anything he could bury his fingers in and hold on for dear life.
Clothing was equally as important. She had to be wearing an outfit that would come off easily and quickly because he often didn’t have a lot of time. Of course, he always carried a pair of sharp scissors, but a woman in a blouse and a skirt made his life so much easier, even with a blade handy.
Now as the sound of the high heels grew closer, he readied himself with growing anticipation. He was betting this one was wearing a nice short skirt and a button-up blouse. Tonight, he could even handle a matching jacket with the skirt. No blue jeans, though. They were such a pain to get off.
Her cell phone rang. She stopped walking. He groaned since if she’d been just a little closer, she would have already been in his trunk, her mouth duct taped as well as her wrists and ankles.
He cursed her cell phone even though it often made things easier for him. Women who were distracted—either digging in their purses for their keys or talking on their cell phones or unloading their groceries—were oblivious to the fact that he was already breathing down their necks.
He silently urged her phone call to end. Just a few more steps and he would grab her by the hair, overpower her and have her in the trunk of his car before she even knew what was happening. Once he got her to the place he had picked out down by the river...well, that was when the real fun would begin.
His next victim was still on the phone. She sounded upset, so upset that she’d stopped walking to take the call. She would be thinking about the call—not him right next to her car.
The call ended. She began to walk again, right toward him. He doubted she’d even noticed him bent over his car trunk, pretending to be taking care of his groceries.
He heard her vehicle beep as she unlocked it. Any moment she would walk within a few feet of him on his right. He would have only an instant to make his decision. An instant to see what she had in her hands, what she was wearing, how long her hair was. Even with his meticulous planning, there was always the chance that this could be the one woman who would surprise him. The one who would fight back. The one who would get away and ruin his perfect record.
His heart began to pound with excitement. He loved this part. None had ever gotten away—even the one who’d scarred him. He was too smart for them. They were like sheep coming down a chute to slaughter, he thought, as he looked up and saw her start past him.
Chapter Two
McKenzie Sheldon came out of the grocery store thinking about work. Not work, exactly, but one of the men at her office.
She was going to have to do something about Gus Thompson. The warnings she’d given him had fallen on deaf ears. The man had reached the point where he was daring her to fire him.
Shifting the single bag of groceries to her other arm, she began to dig for her keys when her cell phone rang. She stopped and pulled out her phone, saw it was her receptionist and said, “What’s up, Cynthia?”
“You told me to call you if I was having any more problems.”
McKenzie let out an angry breath. “Let me guess. Gus. What has he done now?” she asked with a disgusted sigh.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Sheldon, but he won’t leave me alone. If I work late, he works late. He always insists on walking me to my car. I’ve told him that I’m not interested, but it seems to make him even more determined. I make excuses to avoid him, but—”
“I know. Trust me. It isn’t anything you’re doing.”
“He scares me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Tonight I looked out and he was waiting by my car. I’m afraid to try to go home.”
She started to tell Cynthia that she didn’t think Gus was dangerous, but what did she know? “Is he still out there?”
“I don’t know.” Her receptionist sounded close to tears.
“Call the police. Or if you want to wait, I can swing by—”
“I don’t want you to have to do that. I’ll call the police. I wanted to talk to you first. I didn’t want to make any trouble.”
“Don’t worry about that. Gus is the one making the trouble. I promise you I’ll take care of this tomorrow.” She heard her receptionist make a scared sound. “Don’t worry. I won’t mention your name.” She thought of the night she’d looked out her window at her condo. Gus had been sitting in his car across the street. He’d seen her and sped off, but she’d wondered how many other nights he’d been out there watching her house. “I should have fired him a long time ago.”
“But he’s your best salesman.”
McKenzie let out a humorless laugh. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Still, I wouldn’t want to be blamed for him losing his job.”
“You won’t. Trust me. I have my own issues with him.” She snapped the phone shut, angry with herself for letting things go on this long.
She had talked to Gus after that incident outside her house. He’d shrugged it off, made an excuse and she hadn’t seen him again near her place. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been more careful the next time. There was just no reining Gus in, she thought as she found her keys and started toward her car.
She wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow. Gus wouldn’t take being fired well. There would be a scene. She really hated scenes. But this was her responsibility as the owner of the agency. Maybe she should call him tonight and hire security until she could get Gus Thompson’s desk cleaned out and the locks changed on the doors at the agency.
With a sigh, she hit the door lock on her key fob. The door on her SUV beeped. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely noticed the man parked next to her, loading his groceries. His back to her, he bent over the bags of groceries he’d put in his trunk as she walked past him.
She was thinking about Gus Thompson when the man grabbed her ponytail and jerked her off her feet. Shocked, she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t even drop her groceries as his arm clamped around her throat. Her only thought was: this isn’t happening.
* * *
HAYES CARDWELL FELT his stomach growl as he walked down the grocery-store aisle. The place was empty at this hour of the night with just one clerk at the front, who’d barely noticed him when he walked in. The grocery was out of the way and it was late enough that most people had done their shopping, cooking and eating by now.
His plane had been delayed in Denver, putting him down in the Gallatin Valley much later than he’d hoped—and without any food for hours. He still had the drive to Big Sky tonight, one he
