by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron
Which meant he’d be taking another victim. Their killer had shown he didn’t have any sort of cooling-off period between kills. He could’ve already started drawing in his next prey.
“He knows those woods. He knew exactly how to vanish after stringing me up for dead. Knew where to set his traps.” Declan smoothed his knuckles along her bare arms, raising goose bumps in his wake. “He had everything planned out. Even using and killing Michaels to get our attention was part of the plan.”
The memories of being in that pit with Michaels’s remains, of his blood on her hands, tightened the muscles down her spine. Burying her head between Declan’s neck and shoulder, she counted off his heartbeat. She’d come so close to never hearing that sound again. “I tried to get out. I kept falling and the pain in my shoulder... If you hadn’t pulled me out—”
“He’ll never lay another hand on you.” He pressed his mouth to her ear as the flood of panic rose. “You’re safe now.”
Safe.
Such a simple word. But for the first time in over a year, she felt it down to her bones. Because of him. Because he’d fought off death for the slightest chance of saving her life. Because he’d risked everything to ensure she’d made it out of those woods alive. With Declan, she was safe. He’d earned every ounce of trust she could give.
“There was so much blood.” Kate wiped at her face. She set her head back against his shoulder, stroking her thumb across his jaw. “How did you get out of the trap?”
“Your SOS. Blackhawk Security got the signal and responded. They cut me down, found your phone. They helped me find you.” Trailing his fingertips down her back, Declan planted a kiss into her hair. “Without them, I would’ve died out there. You have a good team.”
“They’re okay.” A laugh escaped her control. If she didn’t have this one release, she feared she might fall apart completely. Truth was, her team was more than okay. They’d kept her going. They had her back. Declan was alive right now because of them. Kate lifted her head, studied those familiar blue eyes. “Thank you for saving my life. Again.”
A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, and her insides flipped. “That’s twice now. We’ll have to see what we can do to start making up the difference.”
Kate studied him. Would it always be like this between them? This fire? This...need to have him close? She’d loved her husband. She’d worked hard at their marriage, but because of the things they’d dealt with in their individual careers, there’d always been a distance. Out of necessity. Otherwise the darkness of their careers would’ve corrupted their relationship from the inside. But now... Now she saw nothing but light. Nothing but hope.
“Are you trying to hook up with me?” she asked. “I was literally unconscious three minutes ago.”
The hospital room door opened with a long slow creak.
“Look who survived a serial killer. How you doing, Doc?” Sullivan Bishop flashed a bright, straight smile before moving aside for the familiar face at his back. Hiking a thumb over his shoulder, her boss scanned the room for threats like the good SEAL he was supposed to be. “Right. This guy followed me here.”
“Damn right, I did. You should’ve called me the minute she got out of surgery.” Special Agent Ryan Dominic focused on her, then Declan, and back to her. Was that concern etched into his expression? Anger? He’d spent a good amount of time over the last year helping her through the grief, but Kate had never really been able to crack the carefully modulated control the agent kept in place.
Hands on his hips, he gave them a glimpse of that federal gun and badge he was so eager to display anytime Blackhawk Security came into the equation. “Seems not a moment too soon, either. Everyone out. I’m taking Kate into protective custody.”
“Like hell you are.” Declan’s growl reverberated through her a split second before he stood. “The only reason she’s alive is because of Blackhawk Security. You’re not taking her anywhere.”
She reached for him, using him for balance, and stood on shaky legs. “Ryan, I’ve already told you. I’m not going into hiding. You hired me to profile the Hunter, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Kate, you’ve been through hell. I understand that, but you are the only surviving witness in my serial case,” Dominic said. “I need to know everything you remember about this guy. I need answers. Now.”
She felt Declan tense beside her at the agent’s tone. He dropped his hold on her, took a single step toward Dominic. “You have no idea what she’s been through and pushing her to give her statement is going to do more damage than good. I don’t give a damn if you need answers. She needs rest.”
They didn’t have time for a testosterone showdown.
“Declan, give me a minute with Special Agent Dominic.” Her words were crisp. She might’ve survived an attack from one of the most complex killers she’d ever profiled, but she wouldn’t play the victim card. She’d wasted too much of her life on that path. “You, too, Sullivan.”
“I wouldn’t piss her off if I were you. She’s studied a lot of killers. She knows how to get rid of a body if she has to.” Sullivan targeted his shoulder into Dominic’s on the way to the door. “Agent Dominic.”
The heat of Declan’s touch ran through her as he traced the column of her spine. His gaze narrowed in on his former partner. The tendons between his neck and shoulder strained as he maneuvered toward the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Kate waited until the door closed before she let the exhaustion pull her to the edge of the bed. Declan didn’t need to see how weak the Hunter had made her. It would only worry him more. But with Dominic? He’d already seen her at her lowest. There wasn’t much that could surprise him after what he’d helped her through.
“What are you doing, Kate?” Dropping one hand to his side, Dominic scrubbed his palm down his face with a glance out the small window next to the door. His voice lowered an octave as he studied her. “The guy comes back, and within two days you’re already climbing into his lap?”
They didn’t have time for this.
“Did you find her?” Kate attempted to cross her arms, but the pain in her shoulder spiraled, and she flinched before setting her arms at her side. “The other woman out there? Mary?”
Dominic sobered instantly, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, we found her. Mary Lawson. Twenty-nine. Same MO as the other three. Same similarities.”
“She’s one of the Hunter’s.” Kate sank farther onto the bed. How many more were out there in those woods? How many more would be recovered in the coming weeks? Closing her eyes, she fought back the echo of Mary’s shaking voice in her head. It was time to end this.
“You’re looking for a white male between the ages of thirty and thirty-five, one ninety to two hundred pounds,” she said. “He knows the area and might have property nearby. It’s no coincidence we recovered his first victim and Mary in the same location. Those woods are his hunting grounds. He’s too intelligent to leave a paper trail, so you’ll have to dig into possible aliases. The Hunter isn’t leaving a whole lot of evidence behind. He’s familiar with crime scenes. Could have a job or career in law enforcement or is a huge fan of true crime entertainment. Have you discovered the connection between the women aside from their appearance? Where he’s finding them?”
“No.” Dominic shook his head. “I have Anchorage PD canvassing around their residences so we can work up a timeline and trace their last known locations. None of the women had their phones on them when we recovered them. Unfortunately, GPS is out of the question.”
He slid his hands into his pockets, his shoulders deflating on a heavy exhale, and suddenly, he looked ten years older. “Let me take you into protective custody, Kate. You need to lie low until we find this guy. The Hunter is highly organized and has been a step ahead of the FBI the entire time. He knows who you are, where you live. Hell, he probably knows the
route you take to work, and your running routine. And he’s not going to let you walk away.”
“I won’t be running anytime soon with a hole in my shoulder.” She shook her head, studied the dark circles under his eyes as a weak smile thinned his mouth. This case was getting to him. Getting to them all. Dominic had been there for her when she needed him the most. He was just looking out for her now. She knew that.
“I appreciate the help, Ryan. I really do, and I trust you and the FBI to do your jobs.”
Movement grabbed her attention through the blinds covering the window beside the door, and her gut said her new bodyguard had kept his promise to stick close. “I’ll give you my statement, I’ll answer your questions, but I’m going to make finding me as difficult for the Hunter as possible. Then we’re going to nail the son of a bitch.”
* * *
DECLAN SLAMMED THE driver’s-side door of the SUV and rounded the hood to her side of the vehicle. It’d been three days since he’d carried her into the emergency room. Three days since he’d nearly lost her, and he couldn’t get the image of her in that pit out of his damn head. Of all the memories his brain had decided to kick to the surface, it had to hold on to that one.
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he tugged her door open. She couldn’t go home. Not to the house they’d shared during their marriage and not to her apartment. Her teammate, Vincent, had offered his cabin.
Declan surveyed the surrounding woods, the lack of access now that they were out in the middle of nowhere. He could keep her safe here. Nobody—not the rest of her team, not Special Agent Dominic—knew they were out here. The Hunter would never touch her again.
“Is that a Christmas tree in the window?” Kate stepped out onto a thin veil of ice.
Snow clung to the surrounding pines and the roof of the A-frame structure, but damn, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. All that beautiful blond hair, her bright green eyes. His angel.
The cabin looked to be two stories, had a small open porch, red door and sure enough, a Christmas tree covered in white lights in the front window. Crystalized puffs formed in front of her mouth as she closed the passenger-side door behind her. “It’s the middle of October. Doesn’t the man believe in Halloween?”
“I doubt he’s going to get many trick-or-treaters out here,” he said.
“Santa’s still a possibility.” Kate climbed the six steps to the front porch on steady legs. The past few days in recovery had done her good. Despite the fact that she’d tried to hide it from him, he’d seen exactly how much damage the Hunter had done. How close she’d come to surrendering. But the renewed fire in her gaze revealed the bastard hadn’t broken her. In fact, Declan was beginning to think nothing could.
“There is a chimney,” she said.
A laugh escaped as he hauled their overnight bags from the back seat, the new stitches in his side protesting with every move. No point in thinking about any of that now. Dominic had made it clear before she’d been discharged from the hospital: Kate and her team were no longer allowed near the case. For her protection, and for theirs. Perhaps for his former partner to get all the credit, but Declan didn’t know. Didn’t care. He might not have access to the FBI’s files anymore, but it wasn’t going to stop him from finding the Hunter.
“Maybe there’s cookies and milk waiting inside,” he said.
She smiled at him. “There better be.”
Delirium clouded his head at the sight of that perfect smile. Hell, the things she could do to him. It was no wonder his brain hadn’t been able to forget her after the amnesia took root.
Locking her gaze on him, she offered him her hand. “Come on. I bet he at least has some hot chocolate to warm up.”
He intertwined his fingers with hers and crossed the threshold. A wall of heat hit his skin as he set the bags in the entryway and closed the door behind them. Exposed beams ran the length of the open space, a grand stone fireplace and chimney at the long end of the living room. Furs, flannels, natural light and neutral colors welcomed them deeper into the cabin with a hint of cinnamon in the air.
“Oh, wow.” She released her hold on him, pulling her green cargo jacket—the one with the hole in the sleeve—from her shoulder, and hung it on the hook near the door. She closed in on the nine-foot Christmas tree snuggled a few feet from the fireplace as glittering lights highlighted the bruise along one side of her face. She feathered her fingers over the back of one of the sofas. “If I’d known Vincent owned this place, I’d have insisted he host Blackhawk’s annual Christmas party here.”
“That’s probably why he didn’t tell you.” Declan hung his coat beside hers and keyed in the code on the panel to activate the alarm. Nobody in their right mind would come one hundred feet within this cabin, according to Vincent. The forensics expert had installed a top-of-the-line security system, and Declan intended to take advantage of it as long as they could.
He followed close on her heels. The shadows in her expression had disappeared for the time being. None of his memories—present or past—had her looking so beautiful as she did right now, illuminated in the glow of Christmas decorations. No exhaustion. No deep lines etched between her eyebrows. No darkness in her eyes. Just Kate.
“Christmas used to be my favorite holiday.” She reached out for a strand of white lights, the bulb skimming down her long, delicate fingers. “When I was little, I couldn’t wait for Christmas morning. My brother and I would nag my grandparents so much, they always put up the tree for me the day after Halloween. We’d spend all day hanging lights and ornaments together, listening to Christmas music and baking sugar cookies. After you and I got married and they all moved back east, you did whatever you had to to continue with the tradition. Even when you were in the middle of an important case, you always made time to indulge in my obsession.”
The hollowness in his gut tightened his insides.
“I know it’s stupid to get excited about a holiday with everything going on right now,” she said, “but those were some of my favorite memories. Still are. And having you back in my life, with all these decorations, it’s...perfect. It’s normal.” Her voice was quiet. Calm. A genuine laugh escaped her lips, and the sound tightened the muscles down his spine. Green eyes glowed bright with help from the hundreds of lights on the tree, and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
Hell. He hadn’t expected an angel to set his world on fire, yet there she stood.
“I know it’s not the same,” she said, “and it’s fine that you don’t remember—”
He couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer. Declan threaded his fingers in her hair and crushed her lips to his. Careful of her shoulder, he sandwiched her between his body and the large stone fireplace. Her light vanilla scent combined with the sharpness of cinnamon raised his awareness of her all the more.
His gut spiraled as she framed his jaw with her hand, urging him to deepen the kiss. His heart pounded hard in his chest, her sweet breaths barely audible over the throbbing of his pulse.
A shudder shook through her, and his fingers dug into her hips. Too rough. Too fast. But the need he’d tried to suppress had clawed to the surface the second he’d found her in that damn pit. He’d thought far too much about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t followed the training ingrained in his head. He could’ve lost her. She could’ve died. And he would have never forgiven himself.
She pulled back, her shoulders rising on a strong inhale, but it was the return of the shadows in her eyes that sent ice through him. Fingers pressed against her lips, she slumped against the stone wall behind her. “I can’t do this.”
“I hurt you,” he said.
Not a question. Kate Monroe was the strongest, most intelligent woman he’d ever met, but even a woman who dealt in death by getting into the minds of killers had her limits. She’d been through more the past four days—hell, the past year—than he could ever know
, and he’d put his own selfish need ahead of her own.
“No. It’s not you.” She shook her head, rolling her lips between her teeth. She pushed her uninjured hand through her hair as tears welled, and his heart sank. A humorless laugh bubbled past her kiss-stung lips. “I... I close my eyes, and I’m right back in the bottom of that pit.”
Hell. His hand slipped down her arm. He should’ve killed the SOB when he had the chance, should’ve been more prepared, put her safety first.
Her scent worked deep into his lungs, clearing his head. None of that mattered right now. This, right here. This mattered. And he’d do anything to chase the nightmares away. “How can I help?”
“Will you hold me? No expectations. No strings. No questions,” she said.
The tears fell freely now, and he feathered the pad of this thumb across her cheek.
Another shake of her head. “I know I said I was fine at the hospital, but I’m not fine, Declan. I’ve showered, changed my clothes, I’ve washed the blood off my skin, but I still feel him. I’m not strong enough to do this. I thought I was, but I was wrong.”
“Come here.” Declan wrapped her in his arms, and she set her head against him. Right where she belonged. With a quick glance, he ensured he’d set the alarm, then positioned his arm beneath her knees. In a quick maneuver that pulled at the fresh stitches in his side, he hauled her into his arms and walked around the sofa. He’d endure a thousand ripped stitches if it meant he got to hold her like this.
He set her gently on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, taking position at her back, his arm wrapped around her midsection. He smoothed back the stray hairs around her ear and planted a kiss at the tendon between her neck and shoulder. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, angel.”
Stiffness slowly drained from her, and within minutes her breathing evened. Inhale. Exhale.