by Cynthia Eden
“Eve Gray wants us to find out who she really is.”
Frowning, Victoria glanced up at him. “What does your mystery blonde have to do with the Lady Killer?”
“One of the Lady Killer’s suspected victims is Jessica Montgomery.” Twenty-six. Blond. Green eyes. Five-foot-six. Last seen down on the Alabama Gulf Coast—on Dauphin Island. “And Jessica Montgomery happens to look exactly like Eve Gray.”
“Define ‘exactly,’ ” Dean said as he began to lean forward.
“A dead-on match.” Gabe met Dean’s eyes. He knew the ex-FBI agent would understand the importance of this case more than the others. Dean had worked plenty of serial cases during his time at the Bureau. He knew how hard it could be to stop a serial. How unlikely it was that a victim could survive an attack, but if a victim did survive . . .
“If that’s her,” Dean’s voice was tight with tension, “then she could lead us to the Lady Killer. We could find him.”
“And to the other missing victims,” Victoria added, her fingers tapping on her chin. “She would have been at his kill scenes. She would have seen everything.”
Seen everything and then blocked it all from her mind?
“If she’s telling the truth,” Wade threw out. Because Wade would be the suspicious one. Pretty face or not, Eve wouldn’t just automatically be accepted by him. “You want me to start the check on her?”
Gabe nodded. “Tear into every detail of her time at St. Helen’s Hospital. Rip into her life.”
The new life that she had. The life that had begun just months ago.
The order was cruel, but it had to be done. Before they could start connecting any dots that might exist between Eve Gray and Jessica Montgomery, they had to find out as much information as they could about Eve’s “recovery” at St. Helen’s.
Gabe had seen enough families with broken hearts. He wasn’t just going to call up the Montgomerys and tell them that their missing daughter had been found.
His team would investigate Eve. Tear into her life. Learn her every secret. If she checked out, then they’d move forward.
And for Eve, that would be the time when the real danger began.
I hope you’re ready for what’s coming. Because if she truly had escaped a killer once, she might not be willing to put herself in the target zone again.
But if she turned out to be Jessica Montgomery, there wouldn’t be much of a choice for her. The media would find out about her survival. The FBI would rush in.
And the Lady Killer would know that she was still alive.
EVE WOKE, HER heart racing in her chest and sweat covering her body. She grabbed the thin blanket and clutched it tightly in her hand. On the cots beside her, the other women kept sleeping. Soft snores filled the air. Faint mutters as Sue Smith talked in her sleep. Sue always talked, asleep or awake. Those mutters should have reassured Eve. I’m not alone, others are here.
Eve’s gaze searched the darkness. She couldn’t remember her dream, never could. But that was just normal . . . since she couldn’t remember anything.
She rose from the cot, moving quickly. She always slept in her clothes. Sweatpants and a loose top. The men were down the hall, housed separately, but . . .
But they made her nervous. Most of them did, anyway. Just not Pauley.
She went to Pauley, because she knew that he’d be up, too. He never could sleep at night. He said the darkness reminded him too much of his time in battle.
She wasn’t sure where or when Pauley had battled or even if he’d actually been in a war, but Eve never questioned him. He didn’t question her story about having no past, so why should she question him?
Eve found him by the front door, in his usual guard position. He looked like a big dangerous shadow, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Pauley was gentle on the inside, good, but . . . damaged. She knew that, too.
He spoke slowly. Moved slowly.
It didn’t matter. He was her friend.
“Someone’s watching, Ms. Eve.”
Pauley’s quiet voice had her smiling at first, but then, as his words registered, her smile froze. “Wh-What do you mean?”
“I can feel the eyes. Just like I felt ’em in battle. The enemy’s out there. He’s watching.”
She looked out of the window. Saw only streetlights. Darkness. “The doors are locked, right?” And they did have a security guard at the shelter. Except James spent most of his time sleeping. Pauley was a much better guard.
“Locked. Checked ’em all.” Pauley rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. “Four times.”
Her smile spread again. “Then I’m sure we’re safe. Especially with you on duty.” She said the words easily, but a chill still seemed to be icing her skin.
“Not safe. Watching.” He put his hands against the door and leaned forward. “I should go patrol.”
He was going to open the door. Go outside. “No!” The sharp order broke from her, and Eve wasn’t sure why. She grabbed Pauley’s big hand in hers and held tight. “Stand guard in here, with me.”
He gave a hard shake of his bald head. “Need to patrol. Patrol.”
But the darkness was scaring her. Watching. What if Pauley had seen someone out there?
Her left hand rose to her throat. Brushed lightly over the raised scar. A scream echoed in her mind. “Stay in here with me,” Eve whispered.
Pauley glanced down at her, frowning.
She could confess to him, as she couldn’t to anyone else. “I’m scared, Pauley,” she said. Scared because she’d just taken a very dangerous step with her life. Eve Gray had no past. So she had no enemies. Nothing to fear.
But Jessica Montgomery? That woman had been a victim. She’d been hurt. Attacked. Left for dead?
The authorities were sure that Jessica Montgomery had been abducted by the Lady Killer, a sadistic serial killer who was still on the loose. Still hunting.
Still looking for Jessica?
She knew her hand held too tightly to Pauley’s arm. “Stay inside,” she said again. It was too dark outside. And, like a child, she was very much afraid that . . .
Monsters waited in the dark.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN EVE WAS BROUGHT INTO THE HOSPITAL, she had lacerations on her stomach, her upper thigh, her back, and her shoulder.” Dr. Ben Tyler leaned forward as he glanced first at Eve, then back toward Gabe, who didn’t like the way the doctor’s gaze seemed to linger a bit too long on Eve. Or the way it warmed every time it touched her. “She had suffered a concussion, and she was unconscious for almost three days before she opened her eyes.”
Eve’s body was tense. The doctor had agreed to talk with Gabe, but only if Eve stayed in the room.
“And who brought her in?” Gabe asked.
The doctor’s face tensed. “She was found at a rest stop, just outside of Atlanta. A mother and her young daughter discovered Eve. She was . . . sprawled on the floor of the bathroom.”
Eve flinched. Gabe almost reached for her hand. Almost.
Instead, the doctor stood, walked around his desk and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. The doctor was about Gabe’s age, mid-thirties, with blond hair and dark eyes. Those eyes were lingering on Eve again.
Watch the bedside manner, Doc.
Gabe cleared his throat, okay he gave a rough growl, and the doc’s gaze jerked back to him. Gabe asked, “So no one knew how Eve wound up at that rest stop?”
“I think the police talked with the security guards there. Interviewed some truckers, but . . .” The doc’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “No one was able to discover anything for certain. Eve was found around four A.M. The place was pretty much deserted then.”
So she’d just fallen out of the sky and wound up at a rest stop? Hell, no, there had to be more to that story. Maybe Wade would be able to find out exactly how she’d gotten there. The guy was already talking with his contacts at the Atlanta PD. Soon, he and Gabe would know everything about Eve’s “discovery” at that rest stop.
“You operated on Eve when she was brought in,” Gabe said slowly, watching for a reaction on the doctor’s face.
Dr. Tyler nodded. “I’m just glad I was here to help her.”
Gabe would be glad when the guy got his hands off Eve. The guy’s bedside manner was far too cozy. Intimate.
“Did she say anything in the O.R.?” Gabe pressed. “I know some patients can talk when the drugs hit them—” He broke off when he saw the brief flicker of the doctor’s eyes. She had spoken. “What did she say?” Gabe pushed.
Dr. Tyler glanced back down at Eve. “Uh . . . it’s probably nothing . . . it seemed so odd . . . just gibberish . . .”
Eve tilted back her head and stared up at him. “What did I say?”
He swallowed. “You said . . . ‘I won. Tell the bastard . . . I won.’ ”
Wasn’t that interesting? “Anything else, Doctor?”
Dr. Tyler dropped his hand from Eve—fucking finally—and moved back a few steps. “Everything else is in my report. The location of the wounds. The number of stitches. The—”
“Amnesia?” Gabe inserted smoothly. “Because that’s the main issue, right? The fact that Eve can’t remember a single thing about her life.”
This time the dress that she wore was a little too loose, but the dark green just made her eyes seem to sparkle even more. Her shoes were the same. Black heels. Slightly scuffed. Clinging tightly to her arched feet.
“The term is ‘dissociative amnesia.’ ” Hell. Now the guy was sounding pompous. Just the kind of shit attitude that Gabe wasn’t in the mood to deal with right then. “It’s common after an injury to the brain—”
He’d already done some research on amnesia that morning, and he’d spoken with Sarah—the lady knew all about the brain’s mysteries. “It’s not common to lose a whole life.”
The doctor frowned. “Ah, no, it isn’t.” He wasn’t sounding quite so pompous then.
“Was her injury that severe?” Gabe had to ask the question. The woman had no money. Nothing that she could claim.
So why not try to be someone else? Maybe Eve was running from something or someone, and by faking memory loss, she thought that she could escape from her past.
He wouldn’t trust her. As a rule, he only trusted his LOST team members. Everyone else . . . well, he knew to be cautious.
He’d been burned before. Both during his time as a civilian and when he’d been a SEAL. Sometimes, pretty faces were the best at hiding lies.
And sending innocents to their deaths.
“Ah . . . brain injuries can be tricky to—”
Gabe raised a hand. “She had a concussion. It’s in your big stack of files. You did MRIs, CT scans . . . all the works. So just tell me, did the injury cause her amnesia?”
Dr. Tyler’s gaze hardened as a tight anger seemed to boil beneath his carefully controlled surface. “I can’t make that diagnosis with absolute certainty. Not with the severity of her case and her . . . other injuries. It’s quite possible that a . . .” Now his gaze slid to Eve once more, and the anger bled away. “It’s possible that an . . . intense experience may have triggered Eve’s amnesia.”
Intense experience? Like say . . . an attack by a serial killer?
“Eve was attacked,” the guy said flatly. “Someone spent a great deal of time hurting her. Her body was covered in bruises. Three fingers on her right hand were broken.”
From the corner of his eye Gabe saw Eve flex her right hand.
“There is no doubt in my mind that she suffered a traumatic event, and, though I’m no psychiatrist—”
Good thing he had one on his team.
“—it could be possible that Eve’s amnesia is a defense mechanism. Maybe she just doesn’t want to remember what happened to her.”
Eve surged to her feet. “You’re wrong, Ben.”
Ben? Not Dr. Tyler? Too cozy. And oddly damn annoying.
“I want to remember what happened to me. I want to remember it more than anything else.” She exhaled on a hard breath and her shoulders trembled. “But I can’t.” Then she turned and marched from the room.
Gabe didn’t follow her. Not at first. There were other questions that he still needed to ask the good doctor. “No one ever appeared to claim her?”
The other man’s focus was on the door. Still staring after Eve. A muscle flexed in the doc’s jaw. “No.”
“Her picture was released to the paper.” His research had already turned up that story. “You’re telling me that not one single person came forward then?”
“Not one single person,” Ben said, voice flat. He started to head for the door.
Gabe moved into his path. “Are there other injuries I need to know about?”
“Read the files. I—”
“You seem awfully . . . involved in Eve’s case.” And he could understand the temptation. A woman like Eve. Sexy. Vulnerable.
The doc had fallen under her spell.
I won’t fall.
“I don’t like your implication,” Ben snapped immediately as his cheeks reddened. “She’s my patient. My responsibility.”
“Not anymore she’s not.” The words were blunt. “From now on she’s mine.”
Ben’s gaze burned into his own. “Now who sounds involved?”
Gabe shrugged. “Eve’s hired me to help her. That’s what I’m going to do.”
The doctor crossed his arms over his chest. “Eve has no money. How could she hire you to do anything?”
“Don’t you worry about our payment plan,” Gabe murmured. The doc might be a problem. There was no ring on the guy’s finger, and the man had been spending a whole lot of time with Eve. Getting a little too close with the patient? “Now tell me,” Gabe said, getting back to the part that mattered, “are there other injuries?”
Understanding dawned on the doc’s face. “You want to know if she was . . . sexually assaulted.”
Gabe just waited.
“Not that we could determine.”
His breath eased out.
“We had police here with us when she was brought in, but there was no evidence left behind to link with her attacker. Even her open wounds looked as if they’d been washed.” The doc’s lips tightened, then he added, “Actually, she . . . she smelled like saltwater when she came in. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she’d just been pulled out of the ocean. Her hair was even still wet.”
Gabe absorbed this information, then gave a slow nod. “Thank you, Dr. Tyler. My team will be in touch.” He turned away and reached for the door.
“Eve’s been released from my care.” The words were low. “Technically, she’s not my patient anymore. Anything between us . . . there’s nothing wrong with a relationship.”
Gabe knew his shoulders had tensed. The doc shouldn’t have pushed right then. Glancing back, Gabe leveled a hard stare at the guy. “She’s not your patient. She’s my client.” And you need to stay the fuck away from her.
But the doc wasn’t backing down. The fellow took a step toward him. “If Eve wants me, if she needs a—a friend, I’ll be there for her.”
“You don’t want a friend,” Gabe fired, annoyed. “You’re looking for a bedmate. Keep looking,” he advised. “This woman . . . she’s not for you.”
He grabbed for the doorknob.
“Is she for you?”
The doc really wanted an ass-kicking. Pity he was supposed to be above that now. Having a corporate image could be such a pain in the ass some days. Gritting his teeth, Gabe managed to say, “Thanks for the help, Doc. Now stay the hell out of my way.”
Before he gave into the urge to say or do anything else, Gabe opened the door and stalked outside. Eve turned toward him, her face pale, her blond hair sliding over her shoulders.
She glanced at him, then over Gabe’s shoulder. The doc hadn’t followed him out. Good.
Gabe took Eve’s hand. “Let’s go.”
Her heels clicked on the floor. “I hate the smell of this place,” she whispered.
Yeah, he’d spent more than enough time recovering in the VA hospital after his last mission with the SEALs. He could understand. To him, hospitals smelled like death and weakness.
Her gaze met his. “Did that . . . help you?”
Yes. But instead of replying, he said, “There’s someone that I want you to talk with.” Eve seemed to be double-timing it in order to keep up with his steps, so he slowed down.
“Who?” she asked, as her fingers curled around his hand.
He glanced down at her hand. Small, so delicate next to his much bigger, darker fingers. “Someone who will be able to tell me if you’re lying.”
“You . . . you think I’m playing you?” She didn’t sound hurt, though, just curious.
Gabe shrugged.
“If you think that, why are you here with me?” She stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway. Two orderlies had to swerve around them.
He faced her. “I’m here because I don’t know what the truth is.” His lips lifted in what he knew would be a mocking smile. “It’s a quirk of mine. When I see a puzzle, I have to solve it.”
“Is that what I am to you?” A faint furrow appeared between her brows. “Some kind of puzzle that you want to figure out?”
He didn’t know what she was, yet. He only knew that he was drawn to her. That he wanted to help her. If her story turned out to be true . . .
“You’re my client,” Gabe said, the words soft as he leaned in toward her. From the corner of his eye he’d noticed that Dr. Tyler had just stepped out of his office. The guy was watching them. Gabe put his hand on her shoulder. “For now, that’s the only thing that either of us needs to focus on.”
For now . . . but later, later the game could change.
He led her down the hallway and out of the hospital. Away from the scent of death. A scent that stirred no memories for her, but reminded him too painfully of all that he’d lost.