by Cynthia Eden
Gabrielle looked up at him, tears glinting in her beautiful eyes. She was crying for a man she’d never met before that night.
His guts were tearing open because he knew Van. They’d laughed together, talked about their lives, women.
Van had been hoping to...
Marry. He’d had a girl that he’d been seeing for years.
Cooper put his hands on Van. He worked frantically to try and bring the guy back.
My girl...she hated all the traveling that I did, the secrecy. But things are going to change. I’m gettin’ out of the EOD. I’m going to have a life. With her. Van’s Mississippi drawl had rolled through the words and so had his determination to have his happiness.
But he hadn’t gotten his life and that happily-ever-after dream.
“She was his girlfriend, wasn’t she?” Cooper asked, his voice flat. He hadn’t been able to find a link between Melanie Farrell and the EOD, because there wasn’t a link. Not anymore.
Van had left the organization for her. So no one at the EOD had known about her.
His gaze fell on the message that had been written in blood. Every muscle in his body stiffened.
No, someone at the EOD knew. Someone damn well knew.
His boot slid out, smearing the blood and hiding the final message that Van had left behind.
Footsteps thundered outside of the apartment.
Help had finally arrived.
Too late.
* * *
“YOU DON’T LOOK like a killer.”
Gabrielle’s head whipped up at Detective Lane Carmichael’s low voice. She was at the police station, in the interrogation room of all places.
She’d been the one to call Lane, but when he’d swung in with his cavalry, she’d found herself in police custody.
“You know I’m not a killer, Lane.”
His lips compressed. “Maybe I don’t know nearly as much about you as I thought, and I certainly don’t know anything about the new guy you’ve got with you.”
Lane had separated her from Cooper as soon as they arrived at the station. “Where is he?” Gabrielle demanded instead of responding to Lane’s jibe.
Lane pulled up a chair and stared back at her. “Van McAdams is in the morgue, but you knew that, right? He was dead when you called for help.”
Bile rose in her throat. “He wasn’t dead then. He was trying to talk.” An impossible task, considering what had been done to him.
“Giving you a last-minute message, was he?” Lane asked.
She thought of the letters that she’d seen in the blood. Her eyes squeezed closed. “Look, I know you saw what he wrote. Despite this crazy act right now, you’re a decent cop.” Actually, a good cop. Maybe he was jealous. She didn’t really know what his deal was. But there’d been a definite edge in his voice when he referred to the “new guy.” “You’re a—”
He grabbed her arm. “What are you talking about? What did McAdams write?”
Her eyes flew open. “I-in the blood. He tried to write a message. If you didn’t see it, if one of the techs didn’t, your guys are just getting sloppy.”
He glared at her. “There was no message in the blood.”
“Yes,” she said, voice adamant, “there was.” There had been no missing it.
“Then tell me...what did it say?”
Gabrielle licked her too dry lips. “There were three letters. I think...I think it was an E, an O and a D.”
His brows shot up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She didn’t know, but Gabrielle intended to find out. “They could be the killer’s initials or perhaps even the first three letters in his name.” Maybe you need to do your job and figure it out.
But he just shook his head grimly. “You report the stories, Gabrielle. You aren’t supposed to get in the middle of them. I told you this before. What you’re doing is too dangerous.”
Yes, he had told her that before: same song and dance, different day. The fact that he kept trying to control what she did...no, the fact that he kept trying to change her and make her into someone else—a girl who played things safely—that had been why their short-lived relationship had crashed and burned.
Lane exhaled slowly. “If you aren’t careful, you could find yourself caught in the sights of a killer.”
Then he shoved away from the table, stalked to the door, and he left her there.
Just...left her.
But the image of Van McAdams stayed with her, tightening her stomach and seeming to squeeze her heart. I’m so sorry. I wish that I’d arrived sooner.
Because seeing him like that, actually still alive—it was just like the night she’d found her father.
He’d been alive, too, when she first burst into her home. He’d been hurt so badly. She’d wanted to save him.
She’d only been able to watch him die.
A tear slid down her cheek as her shoulders hunched.
* * *
THE INTERROGATION WAS a joke. Like this was supposed to intimidate him? Being shut in a twelve-by-nine-foot room with a cup of water and air blowing on him, all nice and cool and comfortable?
This was like a vacation for him.
The door opened. The detective stalked inside. Lane Carmichael.
Carmichael’s face was tight and angry, his eyes snapping. Ah, bad cop at his finest.
If Cooper hadn’t been mourning McAdams, he could have appreciated the detective’s performance. As it was, he felt annoyed. And he was ready to leave.
I need to meet up with my team.
“What was in the blood?” Detective Carmichael fired at him.
Cooper shook his head.
“Gabrielle said the victim wrote a final message in his own blood.” Carmichael slapped his hands on the table and leaned toward Cooper. “What was the message?”
“I didn’t see a message.” He had a job to do. He’d sworn to protect the EOD. I’m sorry, Gabrielle.
“So Gabrielle is imagining things?” Carmichael asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying I didn’t see anything.” He’d hoped that she hadn’t seen those letters. But maybe she hadn’t been able to make them out clearly, and even if she had, Gabrielle wouldn’t understand the message that McAdams had left behind.
“I don’t trust you,” Carmichael growled out the words. Red stained his cheeks. “I’ve been looking into your background, and you know what—”
The door flew open behind the detective. It banged against the wall with a thud. “Orders just came down,” a sharp voice barked. “Marshall is free to go.”
Carmichael’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then he whirled and sputtered, “But, Captain, I was just—”
“Orders came down,” the captain said, her voice brooking no argument. “He’s free to go.”
Cooper pushed back his chair. The captain glanced over his way, and her gray eyes narrowed. “You must know plenty of secrets about this city, Mr. Marshall,” she murmured, “seeing as how the DA personally called me and said that you needed to be released.”
Because his boss had no doubt made a fast call to the DA. Cooper inclined his head toward the captain. “When I leave, I’ll be taking Ms. Harper with me.”
But Carmichael was already shaking his head. “I’ve got more questions for Gabrielle.”
“Then you can ask them tomorrow,” Cooper responded, his own voice roughening. He could remember the glimmer of tears in Gabrielle’s eyes. She’d been hurting and—she needs me. “She’s been through hell, and I’m taking her home.” He wasn’t looking for permission from the cops. He was telling them what would happen.
If they wanted to discover just how much pull he had in D.C., then they’d try to stop him from taking Gabrielle out of that station.<
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After a brief hesitation, the captain inclined her head. The lights glinted off the dark red color. “Of course, Ms. Harper is free to go. Detective Carmichael will follow up with her tomorrow.”
The detective’s eyes were angry slits.
“Thank you,” Cooper said as he marched through the open doorway. Then he turned to the left. He’d seen the other interrogation room when he’d been so...firmly...escorted into the station.
He shoved open that door.
Gabrielle was wiping at her cheeks. Wiping away tears. His chest ached. “It’s time to go.”
She glanced up at him.
When she cried, her face should have gone all splotchy. She shouldn’t have looked even more beautiful with her gleaming eyes and trembling lips.
But she did.
He opened his hand to her.
Gabrielle pushed back her chair and nearly ran to him. “I didn’t want him to die! I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” he said, trying to soothe her.
The soothing didn’t work. Gabrielle shook her head. “I told McAdams that he could be in danger. I warned him that the killer could be targeting him next.” Her gaze searched his. “Why didn’t he listen?”
Because he trusted the wrong person.
That was what the man’s final message had been about. He’d opened the door to another EOD agent. Someone he’d thought he could safely admit to his apartment as a colleague or a friend.
But when McAdams had turned his back, that friend had attacked him.
Cooper wrapped his arm around Gabrielle and turned for the door.
He wasn’t particularly surprised to see Carmichael blocking the exit. As usual, the detective was glaring.
“Gabrielle told me that you both heard the sound of glass shattering...” Carmichael began.
Cooper nodded. He could confirm that part.
“You kicked in the door,” Carmichael continued, pointing at Cooper, “and when you searched the place, you realized that the perp had broken the window and escaped?”
“Yes,” Cooper snapped.
“Tell me how the hell he did that,” Carmichael demanded. “He was four floors up. There was no fire escape. Am I supposed to believe the guy flew out of there?”
Cooper’s hold tightened on Gabrielle. “The bricks were rough on that side of the building. Just as they were thrusting out a little too much at Lockwood’s place. For a man with the right skills, getting out would almost be too easy. Scaling down would be just like rock climbing.”
The detective stepped aside.
“Let’s go,” Cooper said into Gabrielle’s ear. She was too pale.
They’d taken two steps past the detective when Carmichael mused, “The right skills... Tell me, Marshall, do you happen to possess those skills?”
Yes. “I’m not your killer, and you know it. Gabrielle’s my alibi—”
“And you’re hers, yes, I know that. But I wasn’t asking if you killed the man. I was asking if you could have gotten out of that apartment the same way that the killer did.”
Gabrielle had stopped walking. She stared up at Cooper, waiting.
There was no point in lying. “Yes, I could have. I would have been down that wall and away from the scene in less than a minute. Just like the perp was.”
Then, before the cop could ask him any other questions, Cooper took Gabrielle toward the front of the station.
His motorcycle wasn’t around—one of his teammates would take care of it for him—so he directed Gabrielle into the first cab that he saw.
They raced away from the station.
He glanced back and wasn’t surprised to see a dark SUV slip behind the cab. He knew that his boss had been the one pulling the strings to get him out of the station, and Mercer would want an accounting of the night’s activities right away.
But Mercer would have to wait.
Because there was someone else who needed him first.
His arms tightened around Gabrielle.
* * *
SO MUCH BLOOD.
Before she’d been escorted to the interrogation room at the station, she’d washed and washed her hands, but Gabrielle swore that she could still feel the blood on her skin.
She’d watched Van McAdams die, and she hadn’t been able to do anything to help him.
Just like before.
“It’s not your fault.”
They were in front of the brownstone. The cab’s wheels rolled away, leaving them alone out there. The night was hot, stifling, and Gabrielle thought she could still smell the overwhelming scent of blood.
He opened the door and led her inside.
When he paused, she didn’t stop. Gabrielle headed straight for the stairs.
But Cooper caught her hand, stilling her on the second step. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
Right then, she was trying to run. “Can’t be in fighting form all the time,” she murmured. “Sometimes...sometimes we all need to crash.” That was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to get inside her apartment where she could fall apart and no one would see her break.
He put his foot on the bottom stair. “Whatever you need, I can give you.”
She shook her head.
Cooper turned her back to face him. His hand lifted, and his fingers curled around her chin as he stared into her eyes. “I can keep you safe. You can crash, you can fall, and I’ll be there to pick you right back up.”
Her lips trembled. She caught her lower lip between her teeth because she didn’t want him seeing that weakness.
Just hold it together a little longer.
But McAdams—those last, terrible moments—had stirred up memories of her own past that she just couldn’t shut out any longer.
There was a reason she took the cold cases. A reason she tried so hard to find justice for the ones who had been forgotten.
“Fall into me,” he told her again. “I’m here.”
When had anyone else ever said something like that to her? She’d stood on her own for so long, Gabrielle couldn’t remember what it was like to have someone else there when the storm hit.
She found herself nodding. “Come...upstairs with me?” So she wouldn’t be alone when the crash hit.
Then Gabrielle turned. She headed slowly up that staircase, and Cooper was right behind her. She could feel the reassuring heat and strength of his body following hers.
She opened the door to her apartment, flipped on the lights, reached for the alarm—
And realized that her place had been trashed.
Couch cushions were cut. Furniture overturned. Her files were scattered across the floor.
“Get back!” Cooper’s low snarl. He didn’t wait for her to comply. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back behind him.
He had his gun in his hand again. She didn’t even remember him getting that weapon back from the cops at the precinct. While he pushed her back, Cooper stepped inside her place.
No. She grabbed his arm. “He could still be here.” Wasn’t that what they’d feared at McAdams’s place? That the killer was there?
“I hope he is,” Cooper whispered back.
Then he advanced.
Fear twisted within her, but she wasn’t about to stay in that hallway by herself. Maybe that was the killer’s plan. Divide and conquer. So when Cooper stalked forward, she leapt right after him.
Her hands fisted around her keys—and the mace attached to that keychain. Having her own weapon made her feel a little bit better.
Until they got to her bedroom.
And she saw the clothing that had been slashed. The other room...it had almost looked as if someone was searching for something in her den. But this—this was just destruction.
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Her pillows had been slit open. Feathers covered the floor. Her sheets were cut, her mattresses sliced.
Her dresser mirror was smashed.
All of her drawers had been yanked out and tossed. Her breath heaved in at the sight.
Rage. She could feel it in the room.
Cooper’s body stiffened, but he didn’t speak. He kept searching her home—checking the closets, the bathroom.
No one was there.
The intruder was long gone.
Gabrielle found herself standing in the living room, gazing around with dazed eyes. Everything that she’d valued was gone.
Cooper was on his phone. Probably calling the police for her. Again.
She rubbed chilled arms. The cold wasn’t just on the surface, though, it went bone deep.
Cooper shoved his phone back into his pocket. He’d already holstered his weapon.
You can fall into me. She wanted to fall right then, but Gabrielle was afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to get up again.
“I told you,” she said and was surprised by how eerily calm her voice sounded. “Someone was watching me.”
“You were right.” His eyes blazed with a barely banked fury. She should be feeling a similar fury, but she wasn’t. That coldness seemed to be cloaking all of her emotions.
“I called in a favor,” he told her. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. She didn’t want to look anywhere else. Everything is gone. “I’ve got a team coming over here. If the SOB left any prints, any evidence, we’ll find him.”
That seemed...odd to her. “You didn’t call Carmichael?”
“He’ll be informed.” His fingers curled around her arms. “Right now, I want you to come downstairs with me. You’re going to be staying at my place tonight.”
His place. Her eyes widened. “What if—what if he did this to your apartment, too?”
“I don’t think—”
She pushed past him and ran down the stairs. Cooper was working with her now. What if the intruder had realized that? What if he’d destroyed Cooper’s place, too?
Breath heaving, she staggered to a stop at Cooper’s door. He was beside her. Always, moving so fast. He unlocked his door. Hit the lights.