by Cynthia Eden
“He may have made similar contact with the other victims,” Noelle said, her words making him pause near the door.
Mercer glanced back at her.
“I figure we have two options with him. Either this is part of his MO—he calls his victims, he taunts them, and then he kills them...”
Mercer waited.
“Or else he’s contacting Gabrielle Harper because she’s a reporter. He wants the attention that she can give him.”
“He wants to expose the EOD.”
Noelle nodded. The light glinted off the lenses of her glasses. “He’s killing agents—”
“Punishing the EOD,” Mercer said. He’d done his share of profiling over the years, too.
“So why not take it one step further? Show the world just how dangerous the EOD truly is.”
That couldn’t happen. Too many lives were on the line.
“I’ll arrange a meeting between you and the reporter.” He just had to pull a few strings.
Then they had to figure out...was Gabrielle Harper becoming the killer’s target? Or did the rogue think she could be another weapon to use against the EOD?
* * *
THE SOB HAD actually called her. Rage still beat in Cooper’s blood. Hours had passed since that phone call. He’d searched the area near the DOC but had found no trace of the killer.
He’d taken Gabrielle back to the brownstone. The cops had finally cleared out, but Gabrielle hadn’t shown any interest in going upstairs to her place.
She’d gone straight for his apartment instead.
The storm that had been threatening all day had finally erupted. He heard the clatter of thunder as the pelting drops of rain fell outside.
Gabrielle was on his couch. She’d kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her body. She looked small—delicate.
And scared.
Her fear pissed him off.
He stalked toward her. His knees brushed the couch. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
She looked up at him. He hadn’t been able to hear the caller’s words, not clearly, and he hadn’t wanted to push her for more information with so many eyes and ears around. She’d talked with Carmichael about the call, but the cop had pulled her away from Cooper for that little chat.
He forced his jaw to unlock as he stared down at her. “I need to know what he said.”
Because Mercer had already called him—twice— demanding details.
“He...he told me that you weren’t who I thought you were.” Her arms wrapped around her stomach. “He told me that you were lying to me.”
His heartbeat seemed to echo in his ears.
“He knew your name,” she continued without looking away from him. “And he told me that you weren’t who I thought.”
Bastard. “He’s trying to shake you up. To make you afraid.”
“I am afraid.”
“Don’t stop trusting me.” He reached down, caught her hands and pulled her up so that she stood beside him. “He wants you to turn away from me so that you’ll be on your own, vulnerable.”
I won’t have that. The rogue wasn’t going to take Gabrielle’s life. Cooper didn’t plan to walk into an apartment and smell her blood.
Or find her lying on the floor, motionless.
“Cooper?” Gabrielle frowned at him. “Are you all right?”
No, he wasn’t. His heart wasn’t drumming in his ears any longer. It didn’t seem to be beating at all. His body felt cold, like ice that sank through skin and bone. “I won’t do it.”
Her head tilted toward him. Her dark hair slid over her shoulder. The move exposed the golden column of her neck.
Sliced open, bleeding out...
“Do what?” Gabrielle asked him as she searched his gaze.
“I won’t find you dead. It’s not happening.” He knew what the cold was in that instant—fear. Fear didn’t burn, it chilled, and it was freezing him from the inside, out.
He pulled Gabrielle close and put his mouth against hers.
The rogue couldn’t get her. The killer wasn’t going to drive a wedge between Cooper and Gabrielle, and the guy wasn’t going to kill her.
The kiss was hard, too rough. But Cooper wasn’t in control then. The ice had to melt. He had to get closer to Gabrielle, had to make sure that she was safe.
His hands wrapped around her body. Her mouth was open, so sweet and hot. He drove his tongue past her lips and tasted.
Took.
He lifted her into his arms.
There would be no stopping this time. He couldn’t.
Cooper carried her back to the bedroom, kissing her the entire time.
Desire pulsed within him, growing stronger with every step, tangling with the fear and the fury within him.
Lightning flashed. Thunder shook the windowpanes.
He lowered her to her feet, letting her bare toes skim the hardwood, positioning her near the edge of the bed. Light from the lamp spilled over the bed.
Cooper stepped back from her. He couldn’t give her honesty about all parts of his life, but in this moment, he would give her everything that he could.
“I want you.” His voice was gravel rough with desire. “Trust that. Trust me.”
Her gaze held his. He could see her need shining in her gaze. “I do,” she said softly.
That broke him. The last of his control vanished.
She started to lift up the edge of her shirt. His fingers caught hers. He wound up throwing that shirt across the room.
His hands stroked her, caressed. Her skin was softer than silk, smooth and perfect.
She wore a black, lacy bra. A temptation that was going to force him to his knees.
But then her hand went to her jeans. She shimmied out of her jeans. Long, tan legs were bared to him. Those legs—and the matching scrap of black lace panties that covered her hips.
Don’t pounce. Because he wanted to pounce. He wanted to take and take and take and let the pleasure drive out the last of the chill that clung to his skin.
Instead, he lowered her onto the bed. He kissed. He touched. Her bra joined her clothes when he tossed it to the floor. Her breasts were perfect, full with tight, pink tips. His tongue licked those taut peaks. She arched against him. Her nails dug into his back, pressing through the thin T-shirt that he wore.
Her hips pushed up against him. Her spread legs moved restlessly against his body.
His hands slid down to the front of her panties. Panties that had surely been designed to make a man go crazy. Carefully, he stroked her through the lace. She was hot and so ready for him.
He had to make this good for her. He wanted Gabrielle as wild and hungry as he was.
His fingers pushed into her. Her breath rushed out.
Then she was the one yanking up his T-shirt and trying to touch his skin.
But when she touched him...
I need her too much.
He pulled back and stripped in seconds. He reached into the nightstand and fumbled for the protection he’d put there.
Then he slowly removed the scrap of lace that covered her sex. He tried to be careful, but he wanted her so badly—the lace ripped.
Gabrielle just laughed. She lifted her hips toward him. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Her voice—her husky words—pushed him over the edge. His hands closed over her thighs. He parted them even more, making room for his body. He put his aroused flesh against her.
Their gazes locked.
He drove into her with one long, hard thrust.
Her breath gasped out. Her eyes darkened even more. Cooper stilled, worried that he was hurting her.
At his hesitation, her legs wrapped around his hips. She arched against him. “More,” Gabri
elle whispered.
He’d give her more. He’d give her all that he had.
His fingers threaded with hers. He withdrew then thrust harder, deeper, again and again. The moans she made urged him on. They were the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard. Pleasure waited, so close, so close. Her body felt amazing against his. Being in her, that hot, tight paradise of her body—it made the blood in his body seem to burn.
She cried out and he saw the pleasure on her face. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes went blind.
She whispered his name.
He drove into her, not able to hold back. The headboard thudded into the wall, and when the pleasure hit him, it was like nothing he’d felt before.
His body shuddered as he pumped into her. He held her with hands that were too tight, but he couldn’t let go.
She was all he knew. The only thing he wanted.
The one thing that he wasn’t going to give up.
His gaze met hers. Pleasure was a drug making him desperate, light-headed.
Gabrielle smiled up at him.
For Cooper, in that instant, everything changed.
* * *
THE RAIN FELL down in a hard, heavy torrent. The local forecasters had predicted that the storm would last for hours.
Cooper had taken the reporter home.
He’d called, given Gabrielle a warning that she should heed, but the woman had seemed to pay him no attention.
Her mistake.
She would learn the truth soon enough.
When you trusted the wrong person, you wound up dead.
Another woman had trusted Cooper once. She’d believed in him, just as Gabrielle believed in the man now.
That woman was buried in a cemetery thirty miles away.
Soon, Cooper would be buried, too.
The killer pulled up his coat and whistled as he turned away from the brownstone.
It was almost time for his next attack. Almost...
Chapter Eight
He didn’t look nearly as fierce when he slept. Gabrielle turned her head, letting her gaze slide over Cooper’s face. The danger was gone. The dark intensity vanished when he was unaware.
He looked younger but still as handsome.
Just not as deadly.
His blond hair was mussed. The brilliant blue of his eyes was hidden. His tanned skin looked even darker against the white of the sheets.
And, in the light, Gabrielle could see that Cooper had scars—a lot of them.
When they’d made love, her fingers had skimmed over his body. She’d been so far gone, though, that she hadn’t recognized the rough outline of the scars for what they were.
Her stare drifted down his body. Since the sheet pooled at his hips, she had a great view of his truly impressive chest and abs.
And the seven scars there. She counted those scars again. Yes. Seven.
From gunshots? Knife wounds? Just what had happened to Cooper in his life? What made him so dangerous?
He’s not who you think he is.
That dark voice wouldn’t get out of her head.
She couldn’t escape into sleep, not the way Cooper could. Maybe it was the storm. Storms always reminded her too much of her past.
It had been storming—a fierce, hard storm, just like this one—the night she’d found her father.
The thunder had cloaked the sound of the gunshot. None of her neighbors had even known that he was hurt.
By the time she’d gotten home, it had been too late.
Lightning flashed outside of the window.
Swallowing, Gabrielle lifted her hand. One of Cooper’s arms had curled over her stomach. Carefully, she eased out from under that arm. Then she put his hand back down on the bed. Her gaze studied his face closely, but he didn’t stir.
She pulled on his robe. It was there, so surely he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed it, right?
Gabrielle tiptoed out of his bedroom. It was still early, barely past nine at night, and there was no way she could sleep.
Once back in the den, she hesitated.
The place just seemed so empty. Why didn’t Cooper have any personal mementos there? His place...it was just like Van McAdams’s.
Van and Keith had been in the military, and so had Cooper.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Why had Cooper been at the scene of Keith Lockwood’s death that first night? She’d thought it was just coincidence at the time, but...
She found herself creeping toward the small desk in the corner. A laptop sat on the desk, closed, turned off. Her fingers slid over the laptop.
She’d just made love with a man—and she knew only the barest of details about his past.
Gabrielle leaned down. There were two drawers on the side of the desk. Neither showed signs of having a lock.
“What are you doing?”
Cooper’s voice came from right behind her. She jumped, spun around then tried to suck in a deep gulp of air. “Cooper, you just scared five years of my life away!”
She hadn’t even heard him approach. He’d snuck up on her the same way he had at Lockwood’s apartment.
His eyes were narrowed as they raked her face. “You left me.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Thanks to that little scare, her heart raced in her chest. “I thought I’d get up and—”
“You were going into my desk.”
What was up with his accusing tone? Talk about going from sensual to suspicion in sixty seconds flat. Her hands tightened on the robe. “No, I wasn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.” The accusation was an insult. “Look, just because I’m a reporter, it doesn’t mean I snoop on my friends—”
His eyelids flickered. “Is that what we are?” His head tilted. “Because I thought we were lovers now.”
He wore a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. A line of stubble lined his jaw. He looked rough, tough and sexy.
Gabrielle wet her too-dry lips. “I think we can be both.” She found herself leaning toward him, so she snapped her shoulders back. “But we need to be clear. You said I can trust you, and I want you to trust me, too.”
He glanced away from her.
What was that about?
Gabrielle took a bracing breath and plowed on. “I want to know you. Who you were before you came to D.C. Who you are now.” Because she didn’t want her lover to be a stranger to her.
Thunder rumbled again. She flinched.
His brows pulled low. “Why does the storm scare you? I thought nothing scared you.”
Gabrielle laughed at that. “You’re so wrong. I’m just usually better at hiding my fear.” His shoulders seemed so wide. He was strong and solid standing there, and he made her feel like she didn’t need to fear.
He made her feel safe so perhaps that was why her words just kept flowing. “I found him during a storm like this one.”
“Him?”
“My father. He was waiting for me at home. I was out late, at a football game with some friends. I came home sure he was going to get all over me for breaking curfew...” Gabrielle glanced toward the window. “But when I went in, our house was dead silent. Silent and so dark. My dad always left the light on for me. He’d sit in his chair and he’d watch TV until I came home.” Her gaze drifted back to him.
Cooper didn’t touch her. He just watched her as lightning lit up the room once more.
If she wanted to know about his past, it only seemed fair that she should reveal hers to him.
“He wasn’t in his chair. He was on the floor lying on his back. I ran to him, I begged him to talk to me, but he was gone.”
Her father’s eyes had been so empty. As empty as Van McAdams’s. The life had been completely gone from his stare. She’d never forget the sight
of his empty gaze.
“What happened to him?”
“He was shot. One bullet, right in the heart.” Her own heart hurt every time she remembered that night.
“I’m sorry.” His arms reached for her. Cooper pulled her against his chest. At his touch, tears welled in her eyes. It had been over eight years, but she still missed her father.
He’d been her constant. Her hero.
Her mother had cut out on them when Gabrielle had just been a toddler. Run away with a married man and never looked back.
“The police said it was a robbery gone wrong. Some cash and electronics were taken, but...” She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled in a steadying breath when the thunder rolled once more. “But they never found the person who killed him. The trail went cold, and he was forgotten.” Gabrielle forced herself to pull back so that she could gaze up into Cooper’s eyes.
“That’s why you do it,” he said softly.
“That’s why,” she agreed. She’d never been able to give her father justice, and that knowledge ate away at her. “I give the other families what I can’t get.”
He shook his head. “You’re not what I thought...”
His words made her stiffen. They were too similar to the killer’s. “You’re exactly what—who—I thought you were,” she fired back fiercely. “You’ve had my back. You’ve risked your life. You—”
He kissed her.
You’re one hell of a kisser. Because she’d thought he would be, from the first glimpse that she’d had of him. She’d almost dropped her chocolate chip cookies because she’d taken one look and gotten lost in his blue gaze.
His lips were firm and warm, and the things that man could do with his tongue...
Cooper eased away from her. “I’d risk my life for you in an instant. Know that. I’ll protect you with every bit of power I have.”
She believed him.
“Sometimes, I think all our pasts can do is hurt us.” His words were a rumble. His right hand curled under her jaw. “It’s the future that I like to think about. What can be.”
But a past couldn’t be forgotten, or completely buried, no matter how much you might wish it to be so.
Why wasn’t Cooper telling her about himself?