by Cynthia Eden
Right now, unfortunately, one of those threats came from within.
A rogue agent.
Suspicion was rampant in the EOD. Trust, the cornerstone of the agency’s success, was being shattered. If you couldn’t trust the agent who had your back in the field, how were you supposed to complete the mission?
Rachel sank into the chair near Dylan’s desk. She trusted him 100 percent. But she wasn’t ready to extend that trust to all of the agents at the EOD.
They all knew how to kill, lie and keep secrets.
Someone was using those deadly skills.
“I could see them through the window,” Rachel murmured. Not that she enjoyed the Peeping-Tom bit. “They went into the kitchen and the guy cooked.”
“Cooper?” Dylan’s dark brows shot up.
She nodded. “Maybe he’s just trying to get under her guard. The lady has proven to be pretty resourceful.”
“The lady’s dangerous.” He threw himself into the chair near her. Leather groaned. “I ran down her bio. She’s got a trail of awards behind her and a reputation for being a real bulldog when it comes to her stories. She’s latched on to our killer, and I don’t see her just backing away now.”
Not even after a trip to the hospital.
“The more time she spends with Cooper, the more likely she is to discover that his cover is a lie.” Dylan ran a hand through his black hair. “The last thing we need is her trying to air a story on the EOD.”
“We aren’t on her radar.” Rachel had done her own research on Gabrielle Harper. “She works to help victims. She’s not even thinking about us.”
“Not yet, she isn’t. But if she’s used to uncovering secrets, how long do you think it will be before she senses Cooper is hiding something from her?”
“Well that depends,” Rachel said as her gaze held his, “on just how good Cooper is at lying. It’s been my experience that some men are extremely talented when it comes to deceit.”
There was a sharp rap at the door.
Dylan held her gaze for a moment longer. “You know you can trust me.”
Yes, she did, as a partner, as a friend.
As a lover?
No, she couldn’t risk that. She’d gone down the wrong path with a lover before. She still had the scars to prove it—scars that marked her on the inside and out.
She cleared her throat and called, “Come in!”
The door swung open. Aaron “Deuce” Porter stood on the other side of the threshold. His green gaze swept between them. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” His voice was low.
“You’re not,” Rachel said flatly.
Deuce’s lips twisted a bit. Deuce had been with the EOD for years—long before Rachel had come aboard. She’d worked several missions with him and learned quickly why the brown-haired agent had earned the moniker of Deuce.
The man could blend like no other. Undercover missions were his specialty. He often joked that he hadn’t been born with just one face—but two.
Deuce. He could be two people in an instant, and had been, on missions in Rio, South Africa and the Middle East. He could drop an accent, change his walk, even change all of his mannerisms in an instant.
Two men—in one lethal body.
“Mercer briefed me on the case,” he said as he came inside. He closed the door behind him. “I’m supposed to provide backup for your team.” His smile faded. “Seems a reporter is getting a little too close on this one.”
“Yes...” Dylan sighed out his answer. “But Cooper is working on her.”
Now Deuce did laugh. “Well, Cooper has always had a way with the ladies.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
“Love ’em and leave ’em,” Deuce said. “If anyone can get the reporter under control, I’m sure it will be him.”
Rachel’s hands clenched into fists. “I think you’re underestimating this woman. A little seduction isn’t going to put her off track.”
“Well, if that doesn’t work—” Deuce’s shoulders straightened “—option number two is a whole lot less pleasant for her. According to Mercer, the woman isn’t to interfere in EOD business. Stopping her is a priority, even if we have to use containment.”
Containment? On a civilian?
Mercer must really be worried. They hadn’t crossed that line, not since—
Rachel cut off the thought. She didn’t want to go into the darkness of her past. Not then.
But Dylan was staring straight at her, and she knew that she’d given herself away.
Sometimes she worried that Dylan was coming to know her too well.
And that scared her to death.
* * *
“SOMEONE’S BEEN WATCHING YOU?” Cooper repeated carefully. He made sure his expression reflected surprise. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I am,” she told him. “You think I don’t know when I’m being tailed? I could feel someone following me for the past day, shadowing me. But every time I turned around...” Her breath blew out. “No one was there.”
He made himself say, “Maybe because no one was there.”
She shot to her feet. “Look, I’m trying to hire you, okay? You don’t have to believe me in order to take the case.”
“I thought you wanted us to be partners—”
Her dark eyes flashed at him. “I’m going to pay my partner for protection.”
She was really afraid. He rose to his feet, slowly uncurling his body until he towered over her. “Are you sure nothing else has happened?”
Her lips pressed together then she said, “I think he was in my apartment.”
Hell.
“My computer... At first I thought it was just some kind of glitch, but I had a tech I know take a look at it. He said my files were deliberately corrupted.”
“Maybe you got a virus—”
“I’ve got top-of-the-line virus protection software. Whatever was done to my system, it was done by a professional.”
Sydney definitely counted as a professional.
“All of the data that I’d had on that computer, all of the files on Archer and Lockwood—they were destroyed.” She lifted her chin and her gaze glinted. “It’s a good thing I had backups, because if I hadn’t, I’d be in serious trouble with my boss.”
His fingers locked around her shoulders. “You have backup files?”
For a second, she almost looked insulted. No, she did look insulted. “I’m not an amateur. This is what I do. I work these cases. I help solve the crimes that cops have to let go cold.”
Why?
“Someone was in my place,” she said again, dogged. “I know he was there.”
“How? Did your alarm go off—”
“No, but my computer...it was moved. Just a few inches, but I could tell.”
It figured she’d be that observant.
Gabrielle pulled away from him. “Look, if you won’t help me, fine. I’ll find someone else who will.” Then she marched toward the door.
He stared up at the ceiling. This was so tangled. This was so—
The door opened.
In a flash, he rushed across the room and slammed the door shut. “I’ll be your guard.”
“Partner.”
He turned her in his arms. “If that’s the way you want to play it.”
Gabrielle nodded. His body was flush against hers. Those kissable lips of hers were just inches away.
Focus.
The problem was that he was focusing, way too much on her.
“What will I owe you?”
His back teeth clenched. “My standard rate is five hundred a day.” He totally pulled that number right out of the air.
Her eyes widened.
Too high.
“But I’ll work out a deal with you,” he rushed to say, because maybe this could work. If he stayed close to her—and he was planning to stay as close as he could possibly get—then he wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking into her place again and destroying any more files. He’d be able to retrieve every bit of intel at the same time she did.
Even better, he’d be able to control the intel that she received.
“Deal?” Gabrielle whispered and she licked her lips.
His whole body stiffened. “Yeah, maybe I’ll get my name mentioned in the byline of your story.” Right. That would be the last thing he wanted.
He put his hands on either side of her head, flattening his palms against the door. He wanted her mouth beneath his. That one kiss hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy him.
It had just made him hungry for more.
“Of course, there is one other thing you can give me,” Cooper said, aware that his voice had roughened even more than normal.
Her breath rushed out. Her hands rose to his chest even as bright flags of color stained her cheeks. “I am not—” she began angrily.
“Pie,” he cut in. “I do believe there was a promise of cherry pie on the table.” And if her cherry pie was half as good as her chocolate chip cookies had been, then he’d sure be one very lucky man.
She stopped pushing him. Her hands rested over his chest and seemed to burn right through the fabric of his T-shirt. “Oh. Right. Of course.”
He smiled at her. She was so cute.
But dangerous.
Kiss her.
Instead, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. “When does this partnership start?”
She glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “I’m really glad you agreed to my deal.” Her head tilted. “Just how good are you at blending into the shadows?”
His lips twitched. “I get by.” If she only knew.
“Good,” Gabrielle said decisively, “because I’ve got a lead for us to follow and our partnership starts right now.”
* * *
HIS OLD FRIEND let him right inside the apartment. But then, he’d expected an easy entrance.
He’d also expected to see the haggard lines of grief on Van McAdams’s face.
“Did you hear?” Van asked as he turned away. The guy left the door wide-open.
Van had better training than that. Much, much better.
“I saw the story on the news.” His gloved fingers closed over the doorknob, and he pulled the door shut. He turned the lock quickly. There could be no time for any disturbances.
Van’s shoulders were slumped as he headed toward the den. “What am I supposed to do now? Without Melanie, I don’t have anything.”
He pulled out his weapon. Slipped silently right up behind the man who mistakenly thought they were friends. “I guess you can join her. You can die.”
Before Van could even turn to face him, it was too late. He’d attacked.
Van’s body hit the floor seconds later.
The killer smiled. So easy. So incredibly—
Voices rose in the hallway. And one of those voices was familiar.
Cooper Marshall.
He stared down at the bloody knife in his hand and considered his options.
Chapter Four
“You’re not coming in with me,” Gabrielle said as she glanced over her shoulder. She kept her voice firm, authoritative. In this partnership, she was the one doing the paying, so it seemed fair that she got to be the one giving orders. Right? “You’re to stay out here.” She gestured toward him, then toward the small hallway. “Lurk. Make sure that no one else comes up here and tries to get in this apartment.”
Because she was following a red-hot lead—one that she wasn’t about to lose.
Kylie Archer had been murdered, and her boyfriend had also been killed in the same manner.
Now that Melanie Farrell was dead, would her boyfriend also follow suit? If the killer acted on the same time line, he could wait months to kill Melanie’s lover.
That means I have time to talk to him, to warn him.
To save him?
Cooper didn’t follow her lurk order. He stepped closer to her. “You need to tell me why we’re here.”
“I did.” On the motorcycle ride over, she’d yelled to him—twice—that she was following up on a lead. Her hand lifted and rapped against the apartment’s door. She’d called and said she was coming by. The guy had been home an hour ago.
“A boyfriend,” he said.
Still not lurking.
“I talked to Melanie’s friend at work. Melanie’s family didn’t know about the guy, but if you’re in deep with someone, the best friend always knows.” It was a woman’s rule. “Melanie called once and had Trish pick her up from this place. I did a little dot connecting, and I found the single guy in the apartment building who fit his description.” A guy who was still not answering the door. “And voilà, I got him!”
“You got him,” Cooper repeated, voice roughening.
She nodded but froze when she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. That sound had come from inside the apartment.
Her fingers curled around the doorknob and she jerked, hard. “Mr. McAdams!”
Cooper stiffened.
“Van McAdams!” Gabrielle yelled. “It’s Gabrielle Harper. We spoke earlier! Please, open up.”
Cooper grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away from the door. In the next instant, he had a gun in his hands.
He’d just yanked that thing right out of his ankle holster, and he had it aimed at the door.
“What are you doing?” Gabrielle whispered, horrified. Her gaze flew down the hallway. “You can’t just pull out a gun!”
“Two dead bodies, that’s what I’ve found since I’ve been hanging out with you. I’m not in the mood for body number three.” He squared his shoulders and called out, “Van, open the damn door, or I will bust my way inside.”
The door didn’t open.
Gabrielle started counting in her head. One, two, thr—
Cooper kicked the door open and rushed inside. He’d only taken about five steps when he froze—then dropped to the floor.
Because there was a man on the floor, a man sprawled in a pool of blood.
“Call an ambulance!” Cooper barked. He grabbed for the man, rolled him over.
Gabrielle flinched when she saw the man’s neck. Fumbling, she yanked out her phone and managed to dial 911.
“Don’t do this,” Cooper growled. “Don’t.” Blood poured through his fingers as he tried to staunch the wound on the man’s neck.
The man—Van McAdams?—his eyelids twitched.
He’s still alive.
“What is the nature of your emergency?” the cool voice on the other end of the line asked Gabrielle.
“A man’s been attacked! He’s dying, please, get help here, now!” She threw out the address even as she tried to get closer to Cooper. His head had bent. His ear was right above the wounded man’s mouth.
Surely McAdams couldn’t talk with that kind of wound.
“We have an ambulance en route, ma’am,” the operator told her.
“Get more than an ambulance!” She fired back. “Call Detective Lane Carmichael! He needs to get here, too.”
“Gabrielle!” Cooper snapped out her name.
She blinked.
“I need you to put pressure on the wound.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I have to search the apartment. The SOB who did this...he could still be here.”
The breaking glass... Her gaze flew to the floor. There was no glass around McAdams. Someone else had made that sound.
“Gabrielle!” he snapped again.
She jumped to his s
ide.
He positioned her hands. “Keep the pressure on him. Van, you look at her, okay? You stay with her.”
Van wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t looking at anyone.
Cooper surged to his feet. He had his gun with him as he ran down the hallway.
“It’s okay,” Gabrielle lied to the man who didn’t even seem to be breathing. “Help’s coming. You’re going to make it. Just keep fighting. Stay with me.”
Blood. So much blood.
It reminded her of another night.
No, don’t go there. All of the scenes had reminded her—too much—of her past.
But...this scene... Her eyes were on the blood. Her breath froze in her lungs. Had Van...written something in the blood? It looked as if he had. An E. An O.
She squinted as she tried to make out the last letter. D?
What in the world was an EOD?
“Van, please, stay with me,” she whispered to him as her hands pressed against his wound.
She leaned toward him, and felt something press into her knee. Her gaze darted from Van’s pale face to the pool of blood.
Metal was there. Glinting. Rectangular in shape.
A dog tag?
A military dog tag. Its chain was broken.
When the killer cut his neck, he cut Van’s dog tag right off him.
“Stay with me,” she said again, but this time, she was begging because this man—he was the key. He could tell her the identity of the killer. He could solve all the crimes.
If he just lived.
* * *
THE BEDROOM WINDOW had been smashed. The shattered glass had fallen—a bit inside the room, but most had flown outside.
Cooper tried to lift the window.
Stuck.
So the killer had just improvised. When he heard Gabrielle at the door, he’d busted his way to freedom.
Cooper shoved his head outside and glanced below. There was no sign of the killer. He’d gotten away.
Again.
Van McAdams. They’d worked a case together over in Paris. Van was a good guy, quick to smile, slow to anger. Always cool under fire.
And now he’s dying.
“Cooper!” Gabrielle yelled.
He knew what that yell meant. Cooper raced down the hallway as fast as he could, but he was too late. He’d been too late from the beginning. By the time that the glass shattered, the killer had done his work.