Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  “What about Special Agent Winter?” Kate felt the rope give, and she struggled to worm one hand free. Progress. “You set him up to take the fall, didn’t you? Just another pawn in your game.”

  “It’s true Kenneth worked all of those cases, but what the official reports don’t say is that we worked them as a team. I suggested he take the lead to get his shot at a nice promotion while I scouted for my next target. Win-win. You have no idea how many cases I had to dredge through to find witnesses who looked like you, because let’s be honest, you’re one of a kind.”

  Dominic hefted the large crossbow from a table to her right and loaded a bolt. He ran his fingers down the shaft. “Whether you realize it or not, Kate, our fates are intertwined. Ever since I first met you, I knew I had to have you for myself. I’ve got plans for you.”

  He lowered the barrel of the crossbow into his other hand and aimed at the floor as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not about to spoil any more surprises.”

  * * *

  CARE TO MAKE a bet, Monroe?

  What the hell had the bastard been talking about? A bet?

  Sweat dripped down Declan’s spine as he wound through the trees. The ATV’s tracks left lighter impressions here, the ground harder with the frost, but he wouldn’t give up. He wouldn’t slow down. Not until Kate was safe. Exhaustion pulled at him, his breath heavier than a few minutes ago. Those words echoed through his head over and over.

  The tracks disappeared in the thick of fallen foliage.

  Damn it. Scanning the surrounding area, he searched for a spot they might pick up. Twenty feet out. Thirty. The ground had frozen solid. He was searching for a needle in a haystack now, in the dark. The howls of a nearby wolf pack shot his instincts into overdrive, and he tightened his grip on the gun. Sliding his hand over his wound, he exhaled hard at the feel of wet gauze and fabric. “Yeah. That looks about right.”

  Blood.

  The wolves had probably smelled him a mile away, mistaking him for an injured animal. They weren’t wrong. Hell, he barely had the energy to keep himself standing as dropping temperatures stole his body heat. The chances of a wolf attack were slim, but the addition of his wound didn’t help. He had a higher chance of freezing to death at this rate, but he’d keep moving.

  Serial killers are like wolves, Monroe. They’ll go to elaborate lengths to get what they want, but they’ll never die for their cause.

  Declan slowed as recognition flared at the voice in his head. Special Agent Ryan Dominic. Right. They’d been partners before he’d lost his memory.

  Crystalized puffs of air formed in front of his mouth, and he curled the fingers of his free hand to hold on to as much heat as he could. A quick flash of memory streaked like lightning across his mind.

  Him and Dominic looking at a whiteboard covered in photos and evidence. A murder board. Five victim photos had been taped to the surface, lines connecting the dots between the pictured women. They’d been hunting another serial killer then. What was the moniker they’d given him?

  Declan rubbed at his eyes as a dull pain filled his skull.

  The Alaskan Logger. Their unsub had taken to copycatting the Anchorage Lumberjack, who was later revealed to have been killed by his son, Sullivan Bishop, aka Sebastian Warren, the founder and CEO of Blackhawk Security, of all people.

  The Alaskan Logger had taken five women who’d rejected his advances, killing them with the ax he’d worked the land with, as the Lumberjack had. Declan and Dominic were closing in on the Logger’s identity when the unsub went cold.

  Care to make a bet, Monroe? I’ll give you five to one odds the Logger isn’t finished, Dominic had said. Come on, we’ll make a game of it.

  Declan snapped his head up, not really seeing the trees around him. Son of a bitch. Dominic. Reaching for the burner he’d stashed in his pocket, he dialed Blackhawk’s main number. The line rang once. And again.

  His heart threatened to pound straight out of his chest as more memories rushed forward from the darkness locked inside his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shut his eyes tight against the pain, but the fragments kept coming. A growl ripped up his throat.

  He and Dominic on the office’s annual hunting trip. His partner’s favored crossbow. The file Declan had started building when the first two women had been discovered shot through the heart with an arrow. Declan had connected the dots mere hours before Michaels had shot up his house. He’d found evidence. He just couldn’t remember what it had been.

  Another memory slipped into his mind, cutting through the violence, and the breath left his lungs. A positive pregnancy test. Kate’s smile as she bounded into his arms with the news. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist and crushed her mouth to his right there in the middle of their living room.

  Declan blinked against the burn in his eyes. Warmth spread through him, combating the freezing cold around him. He wiped the back of his hand beneath his nose. He would’ve been a father if Kate hadn’t been shot.

  Every minute wasted was another minute the chances of Kate returning home alive dropped, and he couldn’t handle the thought of finding her out here, alone, with an arrow through her chest.

  A soft click registered over the phone, and he said, “Put me through to Elizabeth Dawson. Now.”

  He should’ve seen it sooner. Taking Kate off the case, sending her the surveillance photos, setting the meeting. It was all part of Dominic’s plan to get her alone. Isolated. To take her from Declan. Hell, he should’ve trusted his instincts the first time the bastard walked into Kate’s office.

  “Dawson,” a familiar voice said.

  A small wave of relief flooded him. “Elizabeth, it’s Declan.”

  “Where are you? Kate’s vehicle is here down the road from Vincent’s cabin, but we can’t find her anywhere.” Fear laced the network expert’s voice. “There’s a syringe, her phone is here on the side of the road, we’ve got two sets of footprints and the engine’s been tampered with. What is going on?”

  “The Hunter is Dominic. He took her. I can’t go into how I know. I need you to trust me. I’m going to get her back.” His lungs spasmed from the cold. He had to believe that. The alternative... Declan shook his head. No. There was no alternative. He loved her, damn it. He needed her, and there was no way in hell he’d give up on them. They’d been through too much together, and he wasn’t ready to let her go. Wasn’t ready to let the history between them go. “I need you to work your magic and tell me where he is.”

  “The FBI agent working the Hunter case is the killer? Give me a second.” Static crackled across the line, then a hard thump as though Elizabeth had set the phone down. “You’re on speaker. I’ve got Anthony and Elliot with me, too.”

  “Good. He has no reason to suspect we know his real identity so there’s a chance he has his Bureau-issued phone on him. Also, tell me if Dominic or anyone he might’ve investigated has property out here,” Declan said. “He took off through the woods on an ATV, but I’ve lost the tracks. Those things only hold a few hours of gas at a time. He couldn’t have gone far.”

  The chances Declan would get handed a property with the killer’s name on it were slim, but the phone was a promising lead. Dominic was smart, organized. He’d stayed ahead of Blackhawk Security and the FBI this entire time without raising any warnings, but his former partner had never gotten on Declan’s bad side before. Chaos was about to reign.

  Declan turned around, scanning the shadows. Another drop of sweat slid down his neck. He had to control his body temperature. The slightest hint of moisture could pull his system into hypothermic territory.

  The line crackled again. Then silence. “Have Elliot collect as much evidence as he can from the vehicle,” Declan said. “We need to have a case built when this goes sideways.” Because it most definitely would. Dominic was FBI—he knew the system—and Declan wouldn’t be surprised if the basta
rd had a backup plan to get himself out of a conviction. One that looked a hell of a lot like Special Agent Kenneth Winter taking the fall.

  No answer. “Elizabeth?”

  Pulling the phone from his ear, he watched as a bar dropped off the screen. He was out in the middle of the damn wilderness. Barely any coverage. He was lucky his call had gone through at all but pinning Dominic’s location depended on staying in range. His fingers squeezed around the phone. “Elizabeth!”

  “Got—phone.” Static filled his ears.

  Seconds passed. A combination of frustration and panic spread through him as bits and pieces of Elizabeth’s voice punctured the white noise.

  “—have his position. Declan?—me? He’s—quarter mile north of you. We’re on our—”

  “Quarter mile north.” Declan pocketed the phone and ran as fast as he could. His muscles burned with exertion, but he pushed through. Nothing would keep him from getting to Kate. Not the freezing cold. Not hypothermia. Not a pack of hunting wolves. And certainly not some son of a bitch who’d taken the only person who mattered to Declan in this life.

  She’d brought him out of the darkness of his past, given him everything he could’ve imagined and more. Gifted him with her strength, with her body, with hope. He wasn’t going to turn his back on that or on her.

  Fallen trees and razor-sharp pieces of ice threatened to trip him up, but Declan only pushed himself harder when a single cabin came into view up ahead.

  Partially obstructed by massive tress on every side, the small wood structure wouldn’t have been visible in spring or summer, but because of the lack of leaves, the roof peeked through the trees. A perfect hideout for a serial killer. Off the beaten path, no longer in the residential or rental rotation as far as he could tell from the state of the place.

  Fogged windows decreased visibility inside as Declan took position within the ring of trees surrounding the cabin, but a dim light inside revealed there was condensation bubbling at the bottom of each pane of glass. Someone was home. Moss and vines climbed the dilapidated wood stairs, slats pulling away from the overall frame. A single step onto that tilted porch would give away his presence. He had to find another way in.

  Keeping low, Declan crouched as he moved from tree to tree for a better angle, gun tight in his grip. One shot. That was all it would take to end this nightmare.

  He switched off his flashlight, relying solely on the single burning bulb glowing through the south window. No movement from inside, but that didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean Dominic had already finished with Kate and moved on to his next victim. Didn’t mean he wasn’t here at all. Or that the cabin was a trap.

  Declan sat back on his haunches and extracted the phone from his jacket. No coverage. No calling in for backup. He was on his own.

  Her muted scream drove him into action.

  Declan raced across the dirt and bounded up the stairs. No time to test the lock. Hiking his foot beside the rustic doorknob, he put everything he had into a solid kick. The door swung open, hinges protesting as he filled the doorway. Pain ricocheted up his thigh and into his bullet wound, but faded with one look at Kate bound in the chair, her back to him.

  “Kate.” He raised the gun and silently shifted across the floor. No sign of Dominic. The bastard had to be around here somewhere. “I’m here, angel, and I’m taking you home.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Declan, no!” The gag had been put back in place, rendering her warning useless. He didn’t understand. The entire abduction, having her here, it was all part of the plan. Part of the trap Dominic had set for him.

  Kate pulled at the remaining rope around her wrists as Declan moved deeper into the cabin. She bounced in the chair, trying to knock it over, to get his attention, to do anything to make him get out of here. She could barely see him out of the corner of her eye as she twisted her head, her back to the door. Her throat burned as she screamed as loud as she could. “Stop!”

  A solid kick from Dominic standing behind one of the canning shelves sent Declan’s gun flying across the floor, the thump of metal against wood loud in her ears.

  Drawing a noose around Declan’s neck, Dominic pulled him tight against him. Canned goods hit the hardwood floor as both men struggled for the upper hand. A hit to Declan’s face brought him down onto one knee, then another. Another after that. Dominic wouldn’t let up.

  Panic flared in Kate’s chest as Declan took hit after hit with no sign of getting to his feet. Then, swinging his leg out wide, Declan unbalanced Dominic and pushed him backward, the noose still tied around his neck.

  Kate kicked at the chair, a rough growl escaping from around the wet fabric in her mouth. She kicked again, but the rope only grew tighter around her neck. She had to get out of this chair. She had to help him. She scanned the dusty table for a weapon or something she could use to cut the rope, but Dominic had taken the crossbow to wait for Declan. Blood-chilling silence filled the cabin, and she wrenched around for a better look.

  Dominic held on to the noose, one hand at the base of Declan’s neck pressed into the wall, the other pulling the rope taut. The sound of glass shattering filled the cabin, heavy breaths barely noticeable over the hard pound of her heartbeat behind her ears.

  Declan threw one punch, which Dominic dodged, and hauled his elbow back for another. Dominic landed a solid hit, and Declan fell backward against the canning shelves, giving the Hunter another chance to tighten the rope around her husband’s neck.

  “Leave him alone!” Another garbled shout. She couldn’t see them well. Swinging her head from side to side, she struggled to get Declan back in her sights, but the binds around her body made it impossible. Clawing at the rope around her wrists, Kate ignored the stinging pain of burned skin.

  A hard thump broke through the air, then another. Nausea churned in her gut. She forced herself to breathe, to think.

  Movement pulled her attention to one side as Dominic dragged a bloodied and swaying Declan into her peripheral vision. No. She wasn’t going to lose him again. Not like this. Not ever. Rough exhales flared her nostrils. “Declan, get up!” she tried to yell. “Get up!”

  “You couldn’t beat me before you lost your memories, Monroe, and you can’t beat me now.” Dominic stared straight at her, waited for her full attention as he slammed her husband into the floor. Dominic dragged Declan back toward the door, throwing the noose over one of the exposed beams running through the cabin.

  Rage exploded through her, and she snapped her head to face front. Dominic had taken everything. Her psychology practice, her confidence, her house, her baby. He wouldn’t take Declan from her, too. Clenching her fists, Kate pressed her toes into the floor and rocked back on the chair’s hind legs. She used the momentum to rocket her forward, just as she’d done when she tackled Dominic to the floor. Forcing one bound foot in front of the other toward the table on the other side of the room, she turned ninety degrees.

  No, no, no, no.

  Inhaling deep, Kate shoved off with everything she had, sending the back of the chair straight into the edge of the table. A scream worked up her throat as pain splintered down her spine and across her shoulders. The chair shattered around her, loosening the ropes. She pulled the gag from around her mouth and dove to wrap her hand around one of the chair legs as the ropes fell to the floor.

  Strong arms wrapped around her, constricting her movements. “I’m not finished with you, Kate.”

  Slamming her head back into Dominic’s face, she took advantage as he dropped his hold, and swung the chair leg as hard as she could. Wood met bone in a sickening crunch.

  She lunged for Declan, but then the Hunter nearly tackled her to the floor. Her muscles burned as she battled to stay upright. Gripping his two middle fingers, she wrenched them back as hard as she could with one hand and swallowed a pain-filled scream as she swung the chair leg into his side. The arrow wound in her sho
ulder cried for relief, but Dominic was using his weight against her.

  She hit the floor hard and kicked upward, landing a hit to his chest. “Ryan, please. You don’t have to do this. We can get you help. I can help.”

  But it wasn’t enough. The Hunter stumbled backward. A growl ripped up his throat as he reached for her, but a rope sliding around his neck cut him off.

  Declan hauled his former partner into him, blood dripping down his face. “You don’t get to touch her.”

  Relief surged through her at seeing Declan alive, but it was short-lived.

  Lifting his legs high, Dominic threw his weight forward as she’d done with the chair. The bare bulb above highlighted the sweat across Dominic’s brow as he flipped Declan over his shoulder and flat on his back on the floor.

  The rope fell into a pile at Dominic’s feet. Faster than she thought possible, he wrapped his hand around her throat and hefted her into him. “What I need, Kate, is for you to start running. That’s my favorite part, you know. The panic in their sobs as they scream for help. The fear in their eyes, but sooner or later, they realize there’s nowhere they can hide. Not from me.”

  “You...broke...them.” She couldn’t breathe, but one thing was clear as the lack of oxygen took hold: she’d already lost everything that mattered and survived.

  Her gaze flickered to the wall of muscle rising behind Dominic. Kate slammed her arm into his forearm, struggling to get free as a distraction, but her injury took the strength out of each hit. Wrenching her elbow back, she went for his face, but he only blocked the hit. She turned as much as she could and thrust her leg backward to escape his grip. In vain. “You can’t break me.”

  “Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Violence swam through Dominic’s dark eyes a split second before a glass bottle broke against the side of his head. His fingers loosened from around her throat, and Kate stumbled back against the shelf near the door as Declan charged the special agent full force.