Blood of Gemini

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“AJ, did you hear what I said?”

Oh, I’d heard him. Right up to the point he’d told me the monster who had killed my parents and sister was on the beeline express to yours truly—provided he hadn’t already trained his sharp little eyes on me. I placed my bet on the latter. Clark was antsy to finish the job he’d failed to complete months earlier—to witness my last breath as he ended my existence in this world.

One might wonder what would make a twenty-something photographer so enticing. With Clark, it was all about exacting a revenge long overdue, though I had been responsible for no part. And yet, like my insatiable need for the elusive peanut butter and pickle concoction, Clark’s need was rooted in the execution—the completion—of his mission. So he’d returned to destroy me.

Rather than serve myself up as a sitting duck or waste time formulating a response for Ramirez, I bid farewell to the picnic I’d barely started to share with the hunky detective. It only added to the irony that my ninety-eight pound Alaskan Malamute had already had his way with it. I hastily collected the remains; then bitterly snatched his dog bone and tossed it into my bag. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about Clark or his current whereabouts, much less his agenda for me. All I cared about was getting out of the park and safely to my home.

Mind you, I had no intention of hiding from him. I simply needed time alone. Time to think. Perhaps I should have been frightened out of my gourd and maybe if I was honest with myself, somewhere deep down I was…frightened. For the moment, I had eclipsed the fear and replaced it with something far more visceral—rage.

It was not an emotion I revered but it was hard to forget the mark Clark had left in the wake of his previous visit. After killing my loved ones, he’d terrorized me and kidnapped my best friend. And now he had the audacity to return. I smirked, my lips forming a vicious snarl. This time, Clark had another thing coming. I wasn’t going down without a fight and he sure as heck wouldn’t be leaving with what he’d returned for…if he left at all.

Ramirez didn’t need to be a mind reader or a detective to register my mood, or my intentions. “Let us—and the Feds—handle this, AJ. I promise, we’ll get him,” he yelled at my back after I’d rebuked his attempt to grab my arm.

I stormed on, muttering to myself, “That line’s been overplayed, Detective.”

Camouflaged by a crop of trees, he observed their heated interaction. Once the cop returned from taking his phone call, their conversation had taken on a strained, agitated vibe, almost forcing him to smile.

Almost.

After all these years, he was one step closer to getting what he wanted. What he deserved. He wasn’t about to get sidetracked now. Arianna had enjoyed her peace for long enough.

He looked at the old, tattered photograph—a memory of what had been—promises of what could have been. Tracing the silhouettes with his thumb ignited emotions he’d long tucked away. He shook his head, setting the memories free. The past couldn’t be altered or reversed, but the present and the future—that he could control.

And this time, no one—not even Arianna Jackson—would stop him.