Beware Of Me

by Cynthia Eden

  A guy who was trouble.

  “Why do you want me as an enemy?” Ethan asked him bluntly. “Because that is a seriously stupid move on your part.”

  Charles stood close by, trying to appear invisible, but also tense because—well, protecting Ethan’s back was supposed to be his job.

  “You’re a criminal,” Victor fired back. “My job is put guys like you away.”

  Ethan let his brows climb. “Psychopaths like me, right? Men who can’t feel emotion. Men who are cold-blooded. Methodical. Men who commit terrible crimes, but always manage to keep their hands clean.”

  Victor inclined his head. “So you do know what you are.”

  Ethan smiled at him. “I also know what you are. I’m not the only one with secrets, and if you don’t want your own life picked apart, then you shouldn’t go nosing into my world.” He glanced down at Victor’s hands. “Interesting scars you’ve got there.” Very, very faint…and old. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all. Ethan noticed everything. “Not from a knife, not like my scars. Those you carry…you got those from beating the hell out of something, right?” A very long time ago.

  The agent tensed. “Stay the hell out of my life.”

  “Only if you stay out of mine.” He kept that cold smile in place. “Maybe I’m not the man you need to worry so much about.”

  “Because you’ve bought into legit businesses in the last few years?” Victor grunted. “Right, you think we didn’t know all about that? Not just Ms. Shay’s PR firm, but dozens of other companies. Clubs, bars, even tech companies. You sure do believe in branching out, don’t you?”

  Ethan shrugged.

  “But I do wonder, where did you get all that start-up capital?”

  “The hard way. I earned it.” Through blood and sweat and hell. He knew the cops and the feds couldn’t find anything wrong—not on paper—with his businesses. He’d made sure of it. “Don’t know why you think I’m anything less than an honest man.” He had no intention of ever seeing the inside of a prison. “Now, sorry to cut this shit short…” He wasn’t sorry at all. “But Carly needs me.”

  He headed around to the other side of the car.

  “I think a man like you is the last thing she needs.” Victor’s voice was somber. “And we both know that, don’t we?”

  Asshole. Ethan slid into the car. Automatically, his hand reached for Carly’s. He might not be what Carly needed, but she sure as hell was exactly what he wanted.

  And if that FBI agent persisted, then Ethan really would have to ruin that jerk’s life.

  ***

  She had both the FBI and Ethan Barclay at her beck and call. Again. Dammit.

  Getting to her was going to be a challenge, but he wouldn’t give up. One way or another, he’d have his time with Carly Shay. She might think that she was safe, using powerful men to shield herself, but it wasn’t going to work.

  Sooner or later, she’d be his.

  The past had come calling. It was time for a reckoning.

  Was she afraid? She really, really fucking should be. Enemies were closing in, and soon, even her allies wouldn’t be able to protect her.

  She’d be on her own.

  And retribution would be at hand.

  ***

  He’d actually brought her back to her apartment. She’d expected more of a fight from Ethan, but he just took her straight back home. Ethan accompanied her inside, searched the place thoroughly and—

  “I’ll set the alarm when you leave,” Carly told him.

  Ethan gave her an Are-You-Serious glance.

  “Uh, yeah, I said I can set the alarm,” she muttered as her toes curled into the hardwood floor. She’d ditched those crazy socks as soon as she was inside. Now she wanted to get rid of the scrubs and collapse into bed. The only problem with that plan was Ethan. And the fact that Ethan seemed to be lingering.

  He headed to the door. Locked it. Set her alarm.

  “How did you know my code?” she demanded, voice way too high.

  He just tossed her a frown.

  “Seriously, it’s a legitimate question, Ethan. You can’t just hack my system.”

  He turned fully toward her, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared her down. “I didn’t hack your system, baby.”

  Why did he always have to use that endearment with her? He didn’t mean it. And it was upsetting to her. Was he manipulating her, as the agent had said? Playing some game?

  I don’t want to play.

  “I saw you type in the code before,” Ethan added. “And it’s not like I’d forget my own birthday.”

  Shit. Had she seriously done that? Made her security code his birthday? It hadn’t been deliberate, had it? Now her cheeks were stinging and she just needed this day to end.

  “You won’t let me take you some place safe, so I’m staying here with you.”

  She managed to stop her jaw from dropping. Barely. “You aren’t sleeping with me!”

  “That’s unfortunate. Because I’ve fantasized about that plenty of times.”

  Her jaw dropped then. No help for it.

  “But I didn’t say I’d sleep with you. I said stay. Just…stay, baby. Tonight, I’ll bunk on the couch.”

  “You don’t have to do that! I’m fine here!”

  His arms slid to his sides and he headed toward her. She didn’t back up but a nervous energy flooded through her body. Then he was right in front of her. His expression was guarded—always, guarded—as he stared down at her. “You’re right. I don’t have to do it.”

  Okay, so he’d leave.

  “I need to stay. I need to know you’re safe. Because if I walk out that door tonight and leave you on your own, I’ll pretty much go fucking insane.”

  “Ethan…”

  “Go crash in your room.”

  She didn’t move.

  “To be clear…” His voice roughened. “I want to touch you.”

  She wanted him to touch her. And she wanted him to leave. And she was a serious mess where he was concerned.

  “But, I won’t,” Ethan said. “What I will do is stay out here, all night long. Anyone who comes for you, well, the SOB will have to go through me first.”

  Her heart had taken on the heavy tone of a drum beat in her ears. Agent Monroe had said that Ethan was mimicking emotions, but his eyes were so bright with feeling as he gazed down at her. In that second, she could read him—Need. Desire. Fury.

  She eased out a slow breath. “I keep seeing that guy in my head. Coming at me with his knife. Telling me that he’d cut my throat if I made a sound.”

  Fury burned brighter in his stare.

  Carly licked her lips as she came to a decision. “So, sure, you can stay on the couch. I’m not going to argue about that. I think I will sleep better with you here.” The devil you know…

  She turned away. The devil she knew was far better than the monster waiting in the dark.

  “If you need me,” his voice followed her. “Remember, I’m right here.”

  Oh, but he didn’t understand. She’d always needed him. In one way or another. Resisting him, though, that had become a habit for her.

  Was it time to break that habit?

  ***

  Victor Monroe stared at the man in front of him. Dr. Keith Nelson was sweating. A little line of sweat ran over his upper lip. A bit of moisture wet his temples.

  As Victor watched him, the guy took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses on his shirt. Talk about appearing nervous. You’d think the guy had never been called in for a talk with the FBI. Fear seemed to roll off the fellow.

  But Victor knew better. This man—Dr. Nelson—had once treated some seriously dangerous patients. Patients that might even give Ethan Barclay a run for his money. So he didn’t buy the nervous act. Though it did make him curious.

  “I’ve told you before,” Dr. Nelson said as he pushed his glasses back onto his nose. “I can’t discuss my clients with you. It would be highly unethical.”

&nbs
p; Victor tapped his fingers on the table. They were in an interview room, courtesy of the local FBI. Victor had been called in on the Barclay/Shay case at the last minute. He really had more than enough shit to deal with at the moment. But when the Barclay case had tied in with one of his recent investigations, strings had been pulled. Victor had been reassigned.

  And he’d found himself in New York, temporarily taking over a space at their FBI office. Even though his mind was somewhere else, on someone else.

  Zoe.

  But for the time being, he had to focus on this shit. As twisted as it all was. “A woman was attacked after leaving her session with you, doctor. In light of that situation, I’m sure you understand why you were called in.”

  Behind the lenses of his glasses, the doctor’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told me how Carly is doing.”

  There was such familiarity in the guy’s voice when he talked about Carly Shay. Was their relationship professional? Personal? Both? He’d certainly not pegged Ethan Barclay for the sharing type.

  “Ms. Shay was taken home by her friend.” Deliberately, he paused. “Perhaps you know him? Ethan. Ethan Barclay?”

  He saw the doctor’s eyelids flicker. Had fear stolen across the man’s face? For an instant, Victor thought that it had.

  “He’s about my height, maybe two hundred pounds. Dark hair.” The doctor tensed more with every word. “Got some scars on his cheeks. Rather dangerous looking fellow.”

  Dr. Nelson licked his lips. “Is Carly okay?”

  “Her injuries weren’t severe,” Victor said. “She was very lucky. Unfortunately, her attacker is still on the loose.” And that pissed him off. He didn’t like it when women were hurt—one of his hot button issues. The attacker’s van had been found, ditched in another parking garage, but there had been no sign of the perp. Since he thought the guy was a professional, Victor was betting the van would wind up being a stolen vehicle, and he doubted any prints would be recovered.

  “You’ll catch him, won’t you?” Dr. Nelson asked. He’d leaned forward in his chair.

  “The local authorities are working on apprehending him.” Victor always had to be careful when he moved in—the cops could be real territorial. The last thing he wanted was a pissing match that wound up hurting everyone. But he also wanted to find that perp and toss his ass in a cage. “But if you have information…if you know who might be threatening Ms. Shay, that intel could certainly prove useful. I understand that she’s your patient and you have—”

  “Not anymore.” The response seemed to snap out from the shrink.

  Victor lifted his brows. “Excuse me?”

  “She terminated our sessions. A mistake. But she wouldn’t listen.” He gave a curt nod. “Tonight was our last meeting. I-I can’t discuss her case, but she isn’t my client any longer.”

  Interesting. Had Ethan Barclay been involved in that decision? Was he the reason Carly terminated her sessions? “Ethan was never your client.”

  A sharp shake of Nelson’s head. “Don’t really know him.” His lips thinned. “Just saw him holding Carly before her appointment. She should know it’s a mistake for her to get involved in a relationship with someone like him after what—” His eyes widened. He stopped. “I’m not talking to you any longer. It’s late. My mind isn’t working properly, and I will not violate privilege this way.”

  Why was Carly Shay seeing this shrink? Why did the guy think it was so bad for her to have a relationship? A cold knot formed in Victor’s stomach as he began to piece together the past. Quincy Atkins had enjoyed hurting women. A few women had even mysteriously left D.C. after being spotted with him.

  Left…or been killed?

  Quincy hadn’t been the only one to vanish. Victor knew because he’d poured over every file and every bit of data he could possibly find on the guy. The D.C. police had suspected that Quincy might be tied to the disappearance of a few girls who’d danced at his club.

  The three women who’d vanished had been young. Runaways who’d grown up on the streets. According to the files he’d read, they’d all last been seen at one of Quincy’s clubs. Friends had reported them missing. The D.C. cops had suspected Quincy but…

  But nothing happened.

  Then a few weeks later, according to those files, Quincy had disappeared.

  Victor’s fingers stopped drumming on the table. “You don’t like Ethan Barclay, do you?”

  “I don’t know him.” Dr. Nelson stood. “I have to go—”

  “He’s suspected of being one of the most influential crime bosses on the East Coast. The FBI has been trying to bust him for years, but he always gets away, scot-free.”

  Dr. Nelson paled.

  “You treated plenty of criminals before, didn’t you, doctor? You were on staff at Falling Waters State Hospital, a facility for the criminally insane, right after you got your license, correct?”

  “I did my internship there.” Dr. Nelson’s response was hesitant. “Then I stayed on for a…a bit. It was important to understand the workings of…of a disturbed mind.”

  Disturbed. Interesting word choice. “You worked with sociopaths. Psychopaths. You—”

  “Not all psychopaths or sociopaths are a threat to society.” Now. Dr. Nelson had straightened his shoulders. “Many are perfectly functioning, normal people. Perhaps psychopaths don’t feel what you think of as ‘normal’ emotional connections, but they are intelligent. Highly so. They’re assertive, ruthless, determined. They can make for great CEOs or—”

  “Doctors,” Victor murmured when the other man broke off. “I’ve heard they make for great doctors.”

  Dr. Nelson cleared his throat. “A lack of empathy could be beneficial to a certain extent, say for a trauma surgeon who has to divorce himself from the emotions of the job in order to save a patient.”

  Victor smiled at him. “You went to med school. Did you ever have to divorce yourself from emotions?”

  Dr. Nelson pushed his glasses up once more. “I’m not a threat here. I certainly didn’t attack Carly!” He marched for the door. “We’re done. If you have any other questions for me, then contact my attorney.”

  The door slammed after him, and Victor’s smile slowly faded away.

  Chapter Five

  The bedroom door creaked open. The faintest pad of footsteps reached his ears. Ethan was lying on the couch, in pretty much one of the most uncomfortable positions he’d ever known, and when he heard Carly’s approach, he immediately shot off the cushions and to his feet. “What’s happening?” Ethan demanded as he closed in on her. He’d shut off the lights in the den, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could make out her form. “What’s wrong?”

  Before he reached her, Carly reached out and turned on a nearby lamp. A soft pool of light filled the area, and he saw that she was wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts, shorts that exposed the wonderful, long expanse of her legs.

  His cock surged at the sight of her. Down, boy. Down fucking now.

  “The couch isn’t comfortable for you. You’re probably nearly twice its size.”

  “I’ve been on worse.” Once upon a time, he’d even slept on the streets. Not a memory that he particularly enjoyed, but shit like that had made him into the man he was.

  “I have plenty of room in my bed.”

  He shook his head, an instinctive move because she could not have just said that to him. No way. But his twitching cock was saying that, hell, yes, she’d just invited him to climb in bed with her. “Bad idea.” Very, very bad.

  “Why?”

  What? Seriously? “Because if I get in that bed, I’ll want to fuck you.” And after the hell she’d been through already, the last thing she probably wanted was him pouncing on her like a starving man.

  I’ve been desperate for her for years.

  Her hand lifted and she—she touched his chest. He’d stripped off his shirt but kept on his jeans while trying to get comfortable on the couch. Now her fingers were lightly tracing his sc
ars, and his whole body tensed at her touch.

  His hand flew up and his fingers locked around her wrist. “You don’t want to do that.”

  She looked up at him, her lashes slowly rising. “I do. I thought about this in my room. Thought about you because I couldn’t sleep, and I realized—I do want this. I want you.”

  “Carly—”

  “The truth is that I’d like to do all kinds of things…with you.”

  His eyes closed. “Ten seconds. I can give you ten seconds to get back in that room.” Before his good intentions flew to hell. It wasn’t as if he were used to good intentions, anyway, and for her to admit that she wanted him that way…too much. His control started to shred. A woman like her—she needed control. She needed care. She needed a fucking prince charming.

  She was about to get the devil himself.

  “I’ve had other lovers. I didn’t—I didn’t lock myself away because of what happened.”

  His gaze lifted to hold hers.

  “I wasn’t going to let Quincy take away my life.” She licked her lower lip, a quick swipe of her tongue. “But it wasn’t easy. Actually, it was so hard that I thought it would destroy me—just making love. Just letting down my guard enough for someone else to get close.”

  She was destroying him right then. One word, one breath, at a time.

  “I never wanted anyone else, though,” Carly continued, voice husky, “not the way I want you, Ethan. You make me ache from just a touch while other men…I still flinch away from them. I have to school myself. I have to fight my fears with them. But with you, there isn’t anything to fight. There’s just this need I have. Maybe it’s because I knew you before. Maybe it’s because you were there…then. Because you know everything and I don’t have to pretend.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “Or maybe the why just doesn’t matter at all. Maybe I just want you, and you—I know you want me, too.”

  His thumb was caressing her inner wrist.

  “I’m not asking for some kind of promise here.” She inched closer to him. “I’m talking about one night. Me and you. I want you…you want me. Why not see what it would be like?” Her laughter was bitter. “Or maybe I’ll stop you in the middle of the whole damn thing. I’ve done that before. When he gets in my mind.”