by Cynthia Eden
But then she stilled, and her breath slipped out again. Nice and easy. Easy breaths. Deep.
Just sleeping. Now.
He stared down at her, confused, worried and—
“I’ll kill you….” The words had been so clear. So fierce.
So different from that first fearful whisper. The threat of death—it had been very, very certain.
He’d shared a secret from his past with her tonight. And now, in the darkness, he began to wonder about the secrets Monica kept.
Secrets that he’d long suspected were deadly.
The call came in just after 2 a.m. Keith Hyde woke instantly, his hand flying for the phone he always kept close by his bed. “Hyde.”
A crackle of static, then, “It’s Hank. They did it, man, they did it.” The excitement carried over the line.
Hyde sat up slowly, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. These days, there just didn’t seem to be much point in sleeping. “Just what is it that my agents have done?”
“They bagged the killer. He’s dead, Keith. My town’s clear.”
His fingers tightened around the phone. Monica hadn’t called him. If the case were over, she would have called. “You sure about that?”
“I’m in his apartment, bagging and tagging computer equipment. His body’s on the way to the morgue. So, yeah, I’m sure.”
But Monica wasn’t. Or she would have called. He knew how she operated. She always called him when she closed the case, to let him know that the killer had been apprehended and to tell him she was safe. All these years… she knows I still worry.
Hyde sucked in a slow breath. If she hadn’t called to give the all-clear, then she wasn’t convinced they had taken the killer down. “You said you have some computer equipment there?”
“We’re takin’ it down to the station—”
“I’ve got an agent who specializes in electronic information retrieval.” Samantha Kennedy had a handful of degrees from MIT, and a knowledge of computer technology that amazed him. “If you’ve really got the killer…”
“We do.” Such confidence there.
“Then let her take a run at that equipment. She’s the best, Hank.” Hank knew he wouldn’t steer him wrong. They’d survived ’Nam together because of trust. He’d trusted Hank to watch his ass in that godforsaken bush, just as Hank had trusted him. They’d made it out, when so many hadn’t. “I can have her down there tomorrow. She’ll tie up any loose ends for you.” And for me.
“All right, man.” His drawl deepened. “I just… thank you, okay? I knew you’d come through for me. You always do.”
Hank cared about his town, about the people. And Hyde knew that when the guy had first called, he’d been desperate. No mistaking that tone in a man’s voice. “I owed you.” For the two bullets that should have gone into Keith’s chest. Instead, they’d ripped into Hank’s shoulder.
“Consider that debt paid.”
A few moments later, Hyde ended the call. He stared into the darkness for a moment.
They had to be sure of their killer.
He punched in Sam’s number. Four rings, and then she answered, her voice groggy. “S-Sam…”
“You’re flying out at dawn, Sam.”
Silence. Then, “Hyde?”
He almost smiled. Almost. His name had come out fast and high. “Set your alarm, Sam. I need you to go down to Mississippi and hack into some computers for me.”
“Sir! Yes, sir, I will, I—”
“Word is that Monica and Dante might have brought down the killer in Jasper.” He rubbed still grainy eyes. “Go and find me some proof.”
If they were marking this case closed, they damn well needed to be certain they had their killer in his grave.
CHAPTER Ten
The sound of the shower woke him. The groaning of the pipes broke through the layers of sleep.
Luke opened his eyes, squinting a bit at the sunlight creeping through the blinds
An image came to him. Monica. Wet and naked. Just a few feet away.
How was a guy supposed to resist?
Especially since he’d woken, cock up and ready for her. Because he’d been dreaming. Her mouth. On him.
Some dreams were good. Some… weren’t.
But this time, his dreams had been fantastic.
He rose slowly, stretched, then headed for the only woman he wanted.
Luke opened the bathroom door and the heat hit him. Steam drifted in the air, light and lazy. He could see Monica through the shower’s glass door. He had one fine view of the shapely outline of her body as she stood beneath the spray.
Luke cleared his throat. Then did it again, louder.
Soft laughter floated to him with the steam. “Perv, I was wondering if you were just gonna stand there all day.” She shoved open the glass door. Smiled at him. Actually smiled.
A real smile. Not that brittle little grin she liked to toss off. A free smile. Happy and sexy.
“Are you coming?”
Almost. A few more seconds of staring at her naked flesh and watching the way the water trickled down her breasts and slid over her stomach, then, down, down to the dark hair that shielded her sex and—
Now she cleared her throat.
Luke managed to snap out of his trance. He walked forward and climbed into the shower with her. It took two seconds for him to realize that the space wasn’t meant to accommodate two. Not that he really cared.
He soaped his hands, then reached for her breasts. “Thought I’d help clean you.” Not so smooth. His voice came out like a bear growl but her soft flesh was beneath his hands and her nipples were pebble hard and he wanted.
Her hands skated down his chest. “Come on, don’t think you’re having all the fun.” She took the soap from the cracked tray and lathered her own hands.
Then she started with his nipples. Started there, but made a swift trip down his abs and lower to the cock that stretched eagerly toward her.
One tight pump of her hands. Another. The soap had made her hold slick and his length slid easily in her grasp as she stroked again and again. Base to tip, base to tip.
Two could play. The water beat over him, washing away the soap from his hands. The spray fell, not stinging his flesh, but warming him. Heating flesh already hot. Slowly, his fingers caressed down her body, and searched out her core.
She widened her stance. Let him in with a quick gasp. Her folds were slick from the shower and her own arousal. It would be so easy to lift her up. To take her against the shower wall with the water pounding down around them. As easy as taking her last night, but they were going slow now. The touches were soft. Tender. Their mouths touched. No voracious hunger this time. The lust was still there, but easy. Gentle.
He should have been gentle with her before but the fury of need had always swept through him, and his control was shot to hell. Now—this was different.
He’d fucking keep his control. This time, for her.
For her.
He kissed her, and swept his tongue against hers, enjoying her moans and most definitely loving the firm grip of her hands. The need built. The pleasure grew, and he touched her. Everywhere.
His fingers swept over her. Luke found the button of her need. He stroked the way she liked. Pushed inside of her. Not too fast. Not too deep. Just enough to make the hunger sharpen.
The base of his spine tightened. His climax was coming, but he wanted to be in her. Needed her flesh surrounding him, clenching and holding so tight.
He lifted her hands away. Careful. Luke positioned his cock against her. Pushed through those wet curls so he could feel her slick heat. There. Right there. What he needed. So close. Bare, sweet—
Bare.
His back teeth clenched. “Condom.”
Monica laughed. Laughed. Then slipped from his hands and eased from the shower. He saw her ass. That perfect, heart-shaped ass that liked to torment his dreams and give him hard-ons. Fuck. His gaze followed the smooth line of her spine, leading up to her wet
mane of—
What was that?
The mark below her left shoulder blade. Her scar. This was the first time he’d ever seen it in the light, and it looked wrong. Raised flesh, in perfect circles. Hard to see completely in the steam but—
In a flash, Monica spun around to face him, and the laughter was gone from her eyes. Fear flashed in her blue gaze. Stark and sudden.
What? Why was she—
She reached for him, grabbing his arm and hauling him from the shower. She kissed him. No more tenderness. No more sweet licks.
Hard. Deep. Craving. Lusting.
If this is what she wants…
He’d always give her what she wanted.
His cock pushed against her. His arms locked around her, and he lifted her up, carrying her back to the bedroom.
To the condom.
They made it to the bed, barely. She was biting, sucking his lower lip and driving him insane.
She tore open the condom. Slid it over his cock with gripping hands and make-me-come touches.
Then she straddled him. “Now.”
Took him.
A swift downward thrust of her hips. Her eyes locked on his. Blind with need. Just as he knew his must be.
No more fear. Fear—why—
Her sex squeezed him. She rose, going up on her knees, and the head of his cock thrust against the opening of her sex.
Then down. Fast. Balls-deep in a move that had her muscles rippling around him. So tight. Perfect.
Luke stopped thinking and just felt.
Her. Flesh on flesh. Sweet cream. Warm woman.
Moving fast, the rhythm wild and driving as they fought for release. The mattress squeaked, louder than her moans, and her breasts rose, bouncing lightly, and he had to have a nipple in his mouth.
His lips closed over her breast just as her climax ripped through her. Her sex contracted, milking his length as she came—
And he came, erupting, within her. “Monica!” A roar that burst from him.
So long. The pleasure wrung through him. Every muscle, every cell. So. Fucking. Good.
Their breaths panted out. His heart pounded like a freaking drum. And he could taste her.
Her sex trembled around him. So good.
But when the waves of release began to slowly ebb, he was left with a memory. Not of wild heat, or of a lust that couldn’t be sated.
One of fear in desperate blue eyes.
“You know, some folks like to sleep at night,” Kenton said, his voice gruff as he held a steaming cup of coffee real close to his face. “I mean, damn, you know—sleep, sometime, right?”
Monica blinked and vaguely remembered a sleepy voice shouting, “Keep that crap down.”
Oh, she was screwed. “Just where’s your motel room located, Kenton?”
One brow rose and he stared back at her. “I’m Room 103.”
And she was 102. Perfect.
He took a quick sip of the coffee. “Freaking rabbits.”
“Don’t.” Luke’s voice. Vibrating with fury. He’d come up silently behind Kenton, and yeah, he’d heard everything. Just like Kenton had last night. “You don’t even want to go there,” Luke warned.
“I did.” Kenton’s gaze cut to her. Monica held perfectly still. She kept her eyes open, and her expression clear. “Lucky bastard.” His lips thinned. “How’s that arm, Davenport? You didn’t… ah, do any more damage to it last night?”
She’d all but forgotten her arm. “It’s fine.” She needed to breathe. How could I have forgotten about him? Those walls were paper-thin. Of course, Kenton had heard them. He’d go back to Hyde and tell him about her and Luke.
She sucked in a deep breath. Didn’t matter. She’d planned to tell Hyde as soon as she got back to D.C. Luke was right; she had a lot of rules in her life. Rule number one—the only one that she always followed—she didn’t keep secrets from Hyde. Never had. Never would. Luke was on his team. Hyde would know.
“Get a different room tonight,” Luke advised him, as a muscle flexed along his jaw.
“Aw, come on, that is just—”
Her cell phone rang. She glanced down, not recognizing the number but immediately identifying the Jasper County area code. Oh, hell. In that instant, Kenton was forgotten. “Hello?”
A whisper of breath. Soft laughter. “Did you really think I’d eaten my gun?”
Same distorted voice. She waved her hand in a cutting motion, and Luke and Kenton shut up. “No, I didn’t think that at all.” It’s him, she mouthed.
Luke immediately pulled out his phone and started dialing. She knew he’d be calling Sam at the SSD and trying to get a lock on the call.
“Good.” A sigh. “I don’t want to be disappointed in you.”
Luke’s gaze scanned the motel parking lot as he murmured into his phone.
“He still doesn’t know yet, does he?”
Monica stiffened.
“Really, after all that fucking, I would think he knew you better.”
“I don’t want to play your stupid games!” she snapped. “Innocent people are dying so you can—”
“Is anyone ever really innocent? Jones wasn’t, but I still offered him a chance. Maybe I’m getting soft.”
What?
Laughter. “Maybe I’m not.”
“Listen, you—”
“I guess you were innocent once though, weren’t you, Davenport? But that was so long ago…”
Bastard. How did he know? How?
“You’re like me, aren’t you? Deep down, underneath the skin?” And she could almost hear pleasure in that grated voice.
“No, I’m not.”
“We’ll see. I’m watching you, Davenport. Learning all about you.” Softer now. “And I think I know—”
“What?” Her fingers were about to break the phone. “What is it that you know?”
“What scares you.”
Click.
Silence a moment, thick and hard. Monica pulled in a slow breath.
“What did he say?” Luke asked her.
He still doesn’t know yet, does he? That bastard’s voice. Playing his game.
She would have to tell Luke sooner or later. Because she wasn’t going to let this freak jerk her around.
You think you know what scares me, asshole? Come on—let’s find out.
“Is Sam on the line?” she questioned instead.
“She’s gone. Kim’s running the check.”
Monica took the phone and rambled off the number on her cell. Bastard.
The moments ticked by in silence, then Kim’s voice came across the line. “It’s coming up as registered to a Sally Jenkins.” A pause. “That was… she was one of his victims, right?”
Yes. The bastard had taken her cell, just like he’d taken Laura’s, and probably Patty’s, too. Why? Had he really been planning this all along? Planning to call the cops and taunt them? Or planning to call her? Had he known the SSD would get involved when the murders were connected? Her unit had been in the papers so much recently with their other cases.…
“I’m getting the techs to use the satellites to try and track the GPS in the phone now.”
He’d trash the phone. She had no doubt of that. “I want to know every call this number has made.” There’d been no hits on Laura’s cell. The bastard had just called her, no one else.
“They can’t find a link…” Kim’s tight voice. “It’s not online. No echoes, no triangulation… the damn thing is gone.”
And the FBI’s tracking equipment was state of the art. They could use their satellites to track a cell within fifty feet of its location in just moments. She exhaled slowly. Dammit. “Keep trying, and if you find anything, let me know.” She ended the call and glanced down at her watch. Time was running out. “We’ve got to hurry.”
“Why, Monica, what’s happening?” Luke demanded. “What did Sam say?”
“Our killer took some souvenirs from his crimes.” She knew her smile wouldn’t be pretty. “He’s using t
he vics’ phones to taunt us.” Asshole. But he’d just had to make sure she knew…
He was still hunting.
Samantha Kennedy stepped off the plane. Not the fancy, private one usually reserved for the SSD. Ramirez had taken it because there was a serial rapist on the hunt in Bloomington, Indiana.
The FBI had pull, though, and she’d gotten a seat on the first flight down to Mississippi. She hadn’t been able to fly in straight to Jasper. She’d had to go via Gulfport, one of the bigger airports in the state. Now she’d have a long drive ahead of her.
She hefted her carry-on over her shoulder, glancing around. Okay, Hyde had woken her up with his order to fly down here. He’d assured her that someone would be there to meet her at the airport. Maybe it would be Monica or that sexy new agent who made her blush way too much and—
“Ms. Kennedy?”
She pushed her glasses back a bit on her nose and turned to the right. A crowd was in her way, folks milling past as they hurried to get their luggage. But behind the bodies, she caught sight of a deputy’s brown uniform with a gleaming silver star. Ah, my ride. She hadn’t seen the guy’s face yet, not with all those people blocking her. If only I had about four more inches. But being short—well, she’d learned to deal with it.
“Samantha Kennedy?” he called again.
Sam hurried toward him. “Yep, that’s me.” She didn’t get out on many field assignments. Hyde liked to keep her chained to her computer. But since Sheriff Davis believed their serial killer had been eliminated, Hyde thought it was safe to send her out. Finally. She’d been trained for this job, and for months, she’d wanted to prove that she could handle herself. She was an FBI agent, just like Monica and Kenton. She could do the job. Time to show her boss that fact.
The deputy bent down, his hat shielding his face, and reached for her bag.
“Aw, thanks, I really appreciate—”
He stumbled against her, apparently tripping on the luggage. “You okay?” His arms wrapped around her. Too tight.
Something pricked her. A sharp jab, right near her neck. Sam blinked and then staggered a bit.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, pulling her close. “I’ve got you.”
She tried to open her sagging eyelids. Tried to see him. “Something… wrong…” The words came out slurred because her tongue was thick and awkward in her mouth.