by Cynthia Eden
Her hands slapped against the walls—heavy, concrete walls. If she didn’t find a way out, she’d be dying soon. But then her fingers closed over the door handle. Hell, yes. She’d been right. She was on a landing. Maybe at the sixth floor? She hadn’t fallen that far.
Eve jerked the door open and she ran.
“Jessica!” he yelled.
“Come after me!” she shouted back. “Come and get me!” Because if he was coming for her, then he couldn’t hurt Gabe. Gabe would be safe. Gabe would survive.
I love you.
Gabe had to survive. Because she loved him, too.
Eve ran down the hallway, her hands slapping out, trying to find doors to the condos there.
Locked. Locked. Locked!
Okay, hell, her plan had a serious flaw.
And she could hear his footsteps, rushing out behind her. He was coming . . .
“I’ll play, sweetheart.” That terrifying rasp that she knew to the core of her being.
She yanked on another door handle. This one turned. Yes! She burst inside. Shut the door. Locked it.
“Help!” Eve gasped out. “We have to call—”
No one was there. The condo was dead silent. She ran forward and didn’t hit any furniture. Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in one instant of time, and she realized that she was standing in the middle of one of the open units. Gabe had told her that a few units hadn’t sold at the condo complex.
This is one of them.
So there was no one there to help her.
The lightning gone, Eve turned back toward the door in the dark. She’d locked it. He couldn’t get in.
He . . .
A soft knock sounded at the door.
HIS BLOOD WAS pumping out with every breath he took. That bastard had been aiming to kill—only his aim missed.
Gabe hissed out a breath at the pain as he staggered to his feet. He almost went back down again, slipping in his own blood, and he grabbed frantically for the railing. “Eve!”
She’d gone after the killer. He’d fucking not been able to believe it when she leapt at the man.
Don’t risk yourself for me, baby! Don’t!
Eve had gone down the stairs. He’d heard the sound of her screams, then . . . nothing.
He started walking down into the darkness. Each step sent pain surging through him. The blood wouldn’t stop, but neither would he. Not until he’d found Eve.
“I’m coming,” he whispered.
And he’d kill the man who was trying to hurt Eve.
THE CONDOS WERE pitch-black.
Dean brought the SUV to a screeching stop near the parking garage, and Wade immediately shoved open his door. “Take care of Sarah,” he ordered Dean. “Get her to a hospital.”
“You need backup, man,” Dean snapped at him.
“He has it.” Victoria’s words. She was already out of the car. Already at his side.
And that was all there was to say. Dean tossed Wade a flashlight. Good thing it had been in the SUV. Wade’s fingers tightened around it.
“And take the gun,” Dean ordered him.
Hell, yes, he’d be taking that. Especially since the bastard out there had taken his weapon when he stole his vehicle. Dean turned the SUV in that flood, and as he drove away, Wade and Victoria hurried into the parking garage. They’d only taken a few steps when the light from the flashlight hit on the vehicle there.
His vehicle. The bastard was already inside.
They’d tried calling Gabe again. Over and over during the ride. But he hadn’t answered. Because he couldn’t answer?
Wade didn’t want to rush up to the penthouse and find his best friend dead, because if he did, he was afraid that this time he would be the one to lose control.
His fingers tightened around the gun.
HE WAS UNLOCKING the door. Eve could hear the soft sound, and it had her body trembling.
She backed away, fast, looking for any kind of weapon that she could get her hands on. There had to be something. Somewhere.
Her body slammed into a door. Her hands pounded across the surface. Doorknob. Door—
She wrenched open the door, raced forward and—fell. She’d tripped on something soft.
Her hands flew down and she touched . . . skin?
“Help me!” Eve cried.
She heard footsteps. Coming toward her.
“Oh, sweetheart . . . he can’t help you . . .”
He was there. Right freaking there. And that voice . . .
Eve backed away, moving crablike on her hands as she tried to escape. More memories pushed into her mind. The lightning flashed, spilling right into that room.
In that moment, she saw the man on the floor, the man she’d tripped over. The man who wasn’t moving at all.
“You found Clay Thompson.”
Bile rose in her throat as darkness enveloped her again.
“Can you keep a secret?” He still spoke in a rasping voice, and she wanted him to stop. She wanted to hear his normal voice. Wanted to hear him, and see him, too.
She wanted the darkness gone.
“He’s been dead for a while, but Johnny didn’t know that. Johnny thought if he did exactly as ordered, I’d let his uncle live.”
She was still on the floor. Staring up into the darkness as she heard him creep forward. “You never let anyone go.”
“No,” he said softly, with certainty, “I don’t.” Then he reached down for her. “I missed you, sweetheart.”
And when he touched her, she knew. Pain seemed to explode in her head because she’d been in this exact scene before. On the floor, cowering, terrified . . . and he’d been there, reaching down for her. Coming to kill her.
“No!” Eve screamed as she kicked out at him.
Lightning flashed—and she saw her brother’s face above her.
Him, always . . . him!
“Pierce, no!”
He laughed. “Ah, there she is,” he said, the rasp leaving his voice as he spoke louder, in a harder, angrier tone. “The girl I know and love . . . welcome back, sweetheart.” She felt the gun barrel push into her chest. “Welcome back.”
GABE NEARLY FELL when he reached the landing on the sixth floor. Every single step was agony, but he wasn’t about to stop. Eve was out there. His Eve, and she needed him.
I need her.
He swallowed, digging deep for more strength. Would Eve have kept going down the stairs or would she have run out, seeking help on the sixth floor?
He pushed open the door. He had to check that floor. Had to see if she was there.
Only darkness greeted him.
Gabe crept forward. He knew he was leaving a trail of blood in his wake. “E-Eve?” Her name was a whisper from him. If he shouted and the killer was close, he’d give away his location. He couldn’t take another hit. He had to be ready to fight.
“No!” That scream froze him. It had come from up ahead. “Pierce, no!”
It was Eve. He followed her scream, running forward desperately. His hands pounded against the doors. He’d heard the cry from that area. She had to be close.
“Eve!” Gabe bellowed. He didn’t care if he gave away his location now. He wanted the bastard in there to know that he was coming after him. “Leave her alone, you bastard! Leave her alone!”
GABE WAS STILL alive. Eve’s breath stilled in her lungs when she heard him.
“Guess I left the door open,” Pierce murmured. “But since we’re the only ones here, I didn’t think anyone would come when you started screaming.”
He’d thought wrong.
Pierce shoved the gun barrel against her harder. “I bet he’s half dead, and when he rushes in here, desperate to save you . . . boom.”
She shuddered.
“I’ll shoot him and I’ll keep shooting until your lover can’t move anymore.”
“Don’t—”
“And then it’ll just be us, Jessica. The way it was always supposed to be. Before they tried to send me away fr
om you.”
The memories were still pouring through her mind, one right after the other, and now Eve realized . . . “M-My father never touched me.” He’d made her believe that her father had tried to molest her, when all along . . .
It was always Pierce!
He laughed then. Soft, taunting laughter.
“It was you. You were the one who watched me too much. You made me feel . . .” Scared. Dirty. “I told them—”
“And they sent me to dozens of shrinks. Like it was wrong for me to want you.”
That gun was still close, and . . . was Gabe coming? She didn’t hear him crying out any longer. Maybe he was trying to sneak in there. She had to keep Pierce distracted so that Gabe could attack.
“You weren’t my blood sister. I could desire you. Wanting you was natural, especially when you were so perfect for me.” His fingers slid against her cheek.
That lying bastard. “I didn’t attack my father.” The image of the lighthouse . . . her running . . . the knife in her hand . . .
I’d gotten away from him! Pierce held me in that lighthouse, and I’d taken his knife. I thought I would get free . . .
But he’d caught her at the foot of the stairs.
“I’m the one who killed him,” Pierce confessed, “and dear mother. When you found out, though, you did swallow all those pills.” Anger roughened his voice. “Such a bad girl. Why would you do that? Why would you try to leave me?”
Because she’d known . . . deep inside . . . that Pierce had hurt them. There’d been no proof, and when she’d tried to tell people—tried to tell Trey—no one believed her. Because Pierce had been so good at presenting his perfect mask to the world.
All of those trips to the shrinks . . . the doctors had never found out his secrets, they’d only skimmed the surface of just how dark Pierce truly was. He’d been far too adept at hiding his true self.
Only I saw him. I saw the real man. The monster.
But when she got out of the hospital, Pierce hadn’t touched her.
Because . . . dear God . . . he’d started killing other girls then . . .
“I never wanted to hurt you.” His voice was low.
Had she just heard a creak in the other room? Was Gabe in there?
“But you found my camera that night . . . I—I needed to see you, so I snuck in. You saw me at the foot of your bed . . .”
And she could see that terrible night, right then, in her mind.
She’d woken to the faintest of creaks, and she’d known that she wasn’t in that room alone. He’d moved, the shadows cloaking him, and fear had twisted inside of her. She’d known then . . .
He’s come for me.
She’d tried to tell Trey about her fears, but he never believed her. Why not? Why not? Why had everyone been so quick to believe that Pierce was perfect?
He’d used his money to hide his past, she knew that. Her parents had even helped to make those early visits to the shrinks disappear. They wanted perfect, too. A perfect family—but instead they got a nightmare.
She’d risen from the bed, trying to stay calm. He’d crept toward her.
“Let’s play, sweetheart.” Those words from her memory were the same words he said now, as past and present merged.
Her hands flew up and she grabbed for the gun.
“Eve!”
That was Gabe’s bellow. So close—right outside.
“He’s dying,” Pierce promised her as he shoved her back. Her head hit the hardwood floor and then he was whirling around.
Gabe would burst through that door at any moment. “No!” Eve screamed. “Stay back, Gabe! Stay back!”
Lightning flashed—
Gabe wasn’t staying back. They were in a bedroom and he was running toward them as Pierce lifted his weapon.
Eve leapt up and slammed her body into her brother’s. They hit the floor together, tangling in a mass of limbs. The gun flew out of Pierce’s hand, but then that hand slammed into her jaw. He hit her—
“No,” Gabe roared. “Not her!”
He yanked her brother off her and started punching Pierce, hitting him with his fists again and again. The thud of flesh hitting flesh filled the room, a terrifying, savage sound. “You don’t—” Thud, thud, thud. “Hurt her!”
She wanted to cover her ears. Wanted to slide into the darkness and escape the nightmare. To forget—
I want to fly, Daddy . . .
But she wasn’t going to run this time. “Gabe . . .”
He was still hitting Pierce. She inched toward them, stumbling in the dark. Lightning illuminated the room in a flash, and she saw Gabe’s hand drawn back, about to pound again. Pierce was limp on the floor. “Gabe . . .”
He hit Pierce once more.
“I’m okay,” she promised him. “Please, Gabe, you weren’t too late.” Because she knew he was in his own nightmare, too. Trapped and remembering when he’d arrived too late to save his sister.
She grabbed for him in the dark, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m all right,” she told him, desperate. “I’m all right.”
He shuddered. Then he was whirling and jerking her against him. He held her in a too tight grip that hurt, and she didn’t care. He’d saved her. They were alive. Pierce wasn’t going to win this time. He wasn’t.
“Gabe!” A shout from the doorway, and then a flashlight beam hit her and Gabe. “Sonofabitch, what the hell went down?”
That was Wade’s stunned voice. His shadowy form behind the flashlight.
The beam moved to Pierce’s face. It was a mess, smashed, bloody, his eyes swollen and nearly shut. A weak groan broke from him.
“He didn’t win,” Eve said, her voice cracking a bit. “Not this time.” She held tighter to Gabe—
And he slumped against her. “Gabe!”
The flashlight bobbed as Wade ran toward her. He grabbed for Gabe and laid him down on the floor, right next to Pierce’s prone form.
“No, man, no.” Wade’s hands were shaking. “You do not get to do this to me.”
Victoria was there now, too, her breath heaving out. She grabbed the flashlight from Wade and shone it on Gabe’s body.
His eyes were still open, open and on Eve.
Wade ripped Gabe’s shirt open.
“I . . . meant it,” Gabe whispered.
“The bullet is still in you!” Wade’s voice rose with fear. “Shit, there is a lot of blood.”
Gabe didn’t look away from her.
Thunder rumbled.
“Love you . . .” Gabe told her. “Always.”
Wade growled at him, “Don’t give that last rites crap, okay? You love that woman? Then you fight for her. You fight, and you stay with her.”
“Stay with me,” Eve told Gabe. She could feel tears filling her eyes. She tried to blink them away. “Please.”
Pierce groaned again. She saw his fingers sliding across his body . . . he rolled over, hunching, coughing.
“I love you,” Eve said, needing Gabe to have those words. Needing him to understand that she would do anything and everything necessary to protect him.
Just as he’d protected her.
She grabbed for the gun at the moment when Pierce lunged up. The flashlight glinted off the knife in his hand, a knife he was trying to swing toward Gabe’s vulnerable chest.
Without hesitation, Eve fired. And she kept firing, again and again, until the bullets were gone.
Pierce sagged back against the floor.
“You don’t win,” she said once more as a tear slid down her cheek.
Then she went back to Gabe. Caught his hand in hers. Held tight.
“St-Stay?”
That one word from him drove straight to her core.
“Always,” Eve promised him. “I will always be with you.”
THE STORM HAD passed.
Eve watched as the body bags were loaded into the coroner’s van. Two bags. One for an innocent man who’d gotten caught in a killer’s game.
You wanted to use
him as your scapegoat.
And one for a twisted bastard who’d hid his madness too well.
“I’m sorry.” Her head turned. Trey was there. Standing by her side. Watching the aftermath. “I remember . . .” A sad smile pulled at his lips. “When we were just kids, you used to say you were . . . afraid of him.”
“Yes.” Those memories were there for her, too.
Car doors slammed. She looked over. Saw Gabe. Gabe, who should have been laying down someplace, but he was trying to stagger toward her.
Even as Wade tried to force her lover back into the ambulance.
“He believed you.”
She nodded. Gabe was determined to make his way to her. The bullet had been taken out, he’d been stitched up—courtesy of some fast-acting EMTs.
Victoria and Wade had gone out for help in the storm. They’d come back with the cavalry.
And Eve had stayed with Gabe. Holding him tightly. Telling him that she loved him. More than life.
“When the rest of the flood waters recede,” Trey said now, “the FBI agents are going to finish the search of the island. They think they’ll find at least ten more bodies.”
Ten more lives lost . . . because of her brother.
“You remember everything now, don’t you?”
She glanced toward Trey.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he said softly.
Eve nodded. And . . . Eve . . . that was exactly who she was. She had all of her memories, yes, but it almost seemed as if the woman she’d been had died, and someone stronger had taken Jessica’s place.
Someone who hadn’t let fear win.
Someone who had everything to live for.
“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you before. I should have helped you—”
“My parents tried to help. When I kept telling them that something was wrong, they sent Pierce to doctors . . . but he was very, very good at manipulating people.” Even the people who were supposed to see evil. Sickness. “And when he got older, I think Pierce learned to buy his way out of trouble.” He’d learned to make any . . . incidents . . . from his childhood vanish with the right amount of cash. He’d become the epitome of a successful businessman . . . only a killer had hidden beneath his carefully erected veneer.
“I’m sorry,” Trey said again, and she could hear the pain in his voice. “I wish . . . I wish so much had been different . . .”