by Cynthia Eden
But her tears were wetting his shirt, and her body shuddered against him. The unbreakable, broken.
She froze against him. Not fighting now, but not holding him. “I didn’t want you to know,” she whispered. “Not you.”
He raised his head. She wasn’t looking at him. He caught her chin and forced her head back so she had to see him. “You should have told me years ago.”
“Told you what?” Her lips twisted, but it wasn’t a pretty sight. Too sad. “That I’m so good at my job because I’m just like them? Exactly like the killers we hunt?”
What? No, she wasn’t—
She shook her head. “Luke, how do you think I got him to keep me alive?”
His heart stopped, then started drumming way too fast. “You didn’t—”
“I learned something from Romeo. No, I learned a hell of a lot from him.” A deep breath. “The first lesson… people will do anything to stay alive.”
How long had she been with Romeo? He couldn’t remember, but he’d find out. He’d find out everything. But there was one thing she needed to know, now. “It doesn’t matter, baby. Whatever happened, doesn’t matter.” What mattered was that he had her in his arms, he could feel her flesh and—
“Yes, it does. He turned me into a monster, but you can’t see that, can you?” Anger began to boil in her voice. “You look at me, and you can’t see it!”
No, he couldn’t. He just saw her. The woman he’d always wanted and needed far too much.
She shook her head again, then broke free of his arms.
“Monica—”
She shoved past him.
“Monica, shit, wait!” His hands balled into fists. Monica wasn’t waiting. She was running now.
“She’s not for you.…” The whisper came from behind him. A man’s voice. Luke whirled back around—
Too late.
Something slammed into the side of his head. Something heavy and strong and Luke went down, fast, with the taste of blood on his tongue and Monica’s name on his lips.
The last thing he heard was that whisper. Grating in his ears, saying, “I see the monster in her, even if you don’t.…”
She left him. Monica jumped in the SUV and floored the gas and she didn’t look back. Luke had his own car now, courtesy of Hyde. It wasn’t like she was leaving him stranded, she was just—
Running. Yeah, that was what she was doing. So what? She couldn’t handle him right then. Couldn’t deal with his questions.
Because she didn’t want to face her past.
Or him.
Her trembling fingers tightened around the steering wheel. All the years of keeping her dirty little secret, and the killer out there knew about her past.
What did she fear?
The truth coming out.
But he’d taken care of that for her.
So what else was the bastard going to do?
She drove to the hospital, skating fast through yellow lights and coming to a screeching stop near the back entrance.
What does he think of me? If Luke knew what she’d done, what she’d seen…
What Romeo had done to her.
That fucking brand! She should have gotten the thing removed years before. But she hadn’t wanted anyone else cutting her. She’d had enough of that with Romeo.
Her eyes squeezed shut. She’d been fifteen. Fifteen freaking years old, and she’d missed her bus that morning. Just missed the damn bus…
It was gone. She jerked to a stop at the corner, a stitch in her side, and stared at the disappearing back of that yellow bus.
Her mom would kill her. If she had to call her home from the hospital so that she could get a ride to school…
No, she’d just walk it. It wasn’t that far, not really. So she’d miss first period. Big deal. Mr. Matthew sucked as a science teacher. She’d make second. She had to make it; she had her English exam today—
A sleek black Corvette eased to the curve beside her. She glanced over, saw the tinted windows. Too dark to see inside. Her hand tightened around the strap of her backpack.
A soft whir of sound and the passenger side window began to ease down. She walked faster.
“Aren’t you… Mary Jane?” A man’s voice. Strong, sure, friendly.
She shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. The Corvette crept down the road, keeping perfect pace with her. No one else was around. Gone to work. Taking the kids to school.
All alone.
She swallowed when she saw his face, startled. Hot. Seriously hot. Twinkling blue eyes, hard jaw, full lips, and dimples! Dimples… because he was smiling at her. His hair was dark, thick, just brushing the collar of his black leather jacket.
He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than her. Probably in college or something and—
And he knew her name.
She stumbled to a stop. “H-How do you—”
That smile widened. “You don’t know me, do you?”
No. Like she would have forgotten him. She shook her head, hard.
“I’m Ryan’s older brother.”
Ryan? Ryan who? There was a Ryan Thompson in her grade, real class-A jerk who tried to look up her skirt all the time. And then there was Ryan Jennings, but he talked to no one and—
The guy laughed. “I remember seeing you at some of the ball games. Mary Jane, you sure have grown up.”
She hunched her shoulders a bit at that, all too aware that parts of her were still, um, growing.
“You missed the bus, didn’t you?” Knowing.
Well, of course he knew. There she was, walking past the bus stop with no bus in sight.
“I can give you a ride, if you want. I’ve got to head over to Williams High anyway. My idiot brother forgot his lunch. Again.”
Her lips wanted to curl because that sounded like Ryan Thompson. He was forever bumming off people. She turned fully toward him and hesitated.
The car braked. He leaned toward her, that smile stretching ever more. “Come on, Mary Jane. It’s like, five miles to the school. You don’t want to walk that.”
No, she didn’t. But she didn’t know him. And if her mom found out she’d taken a ride with this guy she’d be so pissed.
Mary Jane licked her lips.
His eyes narrowed a bit, and his smile seemed to tighten. “Come on…” he said again. “Why should a pretty girl like you walk when you can ride?”
He thinks I’m pretty? Her skin flushed. “Thanks, but—” But she didn’t know the guy. Good-looking or not, she didn’t know him, and her mom would freak. “But I’m okay.” She tried a smile. “It’s really not that far.”
The smile definitely dimmed. “You should get in the car.”
A chill rose on her arms. He didn’t seem quite so friendly now, and the longer she stared at him, the less good-looking he appeared. There was something about his eyes. They were so…
Cold. Mean.
She eased back a bit from the car. “Actually, my mom’s on her way. She’s gonna meet me here and take me the rest of the way.” Her chest shook because her heart was pounding so hard right then.
His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “Right. Well, you take care, Mary Jane. I’ll be seeing you.…” The car squealed away, and the scent of burnt rubber filled her nostrils.
She realized that her hands were sweating, her breath coming too fast. All because a cute boy had wanted to give her a ride.
No, something was wrong with him. The thought slipped through her mind. His eyes. Something had been wrong.
And she realized she was very, very glad she hadn’t gotten into his car.
She started walking faster. She turned on Maple Street, and heard the frantic barking of Ms. Milly’s two terriers and saw the back of a black Corvette. Parked just down from Ms. Milly’s sidewalk.
Her feet stumbled. Wh—
“Your mother’s not coming to pick you up.”
From right behind her.
She spun around and saw that dimpled smil
e. “In fact, she’s never fucking seeing you again.” His hand lifted. She opened her mouth to scream—
He slapped his right hand over her mouth and stabbed her in the neck with a needle. He leaned in close and caught her when her body went limp.
“Shh… don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take good care of you.”
She’d known he was lying. But she hadn’t been able to scream or fight, and her eyes had closed even as he’d thrown her into the back seat of his Corvette. And when she’d opened her eyes again—
No!
Monica sucked in a deep breath. She shoved open the car door. Her face burned as she hurried toward the hospital.
Control. Focus.
She gave a hard nod to the security guard on duty. Keeping her head up, she walked quickly past the receptionist and into the elevator. Her index finger stabbed the button for the sixth floor. She waited. Breathed slow and easy. Slow and easy.
She’d learned that trick long ago. When she realized that she wouldn’t be getting out of that two-by-three-foot closet anytime soon. She’d known she could let the panic take her or she could take control.
She’d taken control and fought to never let go.
Wish I’d killed him. Her one regret, after all these years. If only Hyde hadn’t stopped me.
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. She saw the two deputies first. Not flirting with the nurses at the station, but standing guard in the hallway. A red-haired guy with a goatee, Paul, and Melinda.
She inclined her head as she passed them. Then she saw Kenton, sitting right outside Sam’s door. His arms were crossed over his chest, his brows drawn low as he watched her approach.
“She doesn’t want to talk,” he said the minute she drew closer. “Kicked my ass out.” A shake of his head. “But I told her I wouldn’t go far.”
She swiped her tongue over her lower lip. “I’m going in.”
His hand came out, blocking the door. “I know you’re the shrink, Doc.” Nobody ever called her that, least of all Kenton, so she knew he was trying to make a point.
Screw that. She didn’t have time for—
“But I think she needs to be alone. Let her cry. Let her heal, let her—”
“You don’t know what the hell it’s like.” The words slipped out because Luke had frayed her control. Or maybe that precious control had been slowly breaking and she hadn’t even noticed. “You don’t know what it feels like when a killer screws with your head, fucks with your body, and makes you wish for death.” Over and over. Until you begged to die.
She’d seen it happen.
But I never begged. That had been another trick she’d learned. Not to beg. Not to give the killer what he needed.
Keep him wanting. Keep yourself alive.
His eyes narrowed a bit at the corners. “You’re sounding awful personal there, Davenport.”
“Move your hand.” Or the way she was feeling right then, she’d be more than happy to move it for him.
He gazed at her, then after a moment slowly moved his hand. “Make her better.”
“I’ll do more than that.” She slapped her hand against the hospital door. “I’ll take away her monster.”
And that was a promise.
“What the hell? Agent Dante? Agent Dante!”
The voice sounded hollow. Raspy.
Luke cracked opened his eyes, realized he was laying in—yeah, that smelled like garbage. He pushed up, wincing when pain rocked through his skull.
Sonofabitch.
“Are you all right?” A hand reached out for him. The scent of cigars teased his nose.
He looked up and met Lee’s wide-eyed stare. “Someone jumped me.” His fingers pushed through his hair, found a freaking goose egg and the sticky wetness of blood. Shit.
“You got attacked? You—”
Luke was on his feet. His hand pressed against the side of the building as the world weaved a bit. “Where’s Monica?”
“I-I saw her drive out about thirty minutes ago. When I came out again, your car was still here but I knew you hadn’t come back in.” He leaned in close. “So I came looking for you. Man—you sure you’re all right?”
He took a step. Staggered. “No.”
Fuck.
Luke sucked in a sharp breath. Another. Another. Waves of darkness flickered around him, but he fought them. “You see anybody?”
“Uh, when?”
God save him from the deputies. “Did you… ah… see anybody when you came in the,” a deep breath, “alley?”
A quick shake of Lee’s head. “Just you, man. You were lying there, facedown in the—”
Shit. Garbage. Whatever the hell it was.
“Did you see anyone else?” Like the person who’d slammed him?
“Y-You think the Watchman hit you?” Fear. Excitement. The guy really needed a life.
“I fucking know it.” He’d been there, listening and watching.
Bastard.
Where was Monica?
“Shit—I’ll call the sheriff!”
Right. For all the good it would do. The killer was long gone by now. And why did he leave me alive?
Because Luke wasn’t his target. The game wasn’t about him.
She’s not for you. If the bastard touched her, Luke would rip him apart. “Get on your radio and find out if anyone has seen Monica.” He ran toward the lot, his head throbbing.
“Agent Davenport? Why is she—”
“Get on the damn radio!” Because he didn’t have time to waste.
Neither did she.
CHAPTER Fourteen
I told you, Kenton… I don’t want to talk.” Sam’s voice was a croak, so strangled and weak. She’d turned toward the wall, hunching her shoulders and pulling the covers high over her.
How many times had she been in the water? Monica cleared her throat. “I’m not Kenton.”
Sam stiffened. “Not talking… to you… now.”
“Yes, you are.” Monica walked closer. She could only see darkness outside the window. “But first, I’m going to talk to you.” And it didn’t matter if Sam turned to look at her or not, she was talking.
Monica straightened her shoulders. “You need to know, he’s not getting you. Kenton is staying with you, Hyde is coming, we’re all taking shifts, and we’re going to make damn sure you’re not alone.”
“So he doesn’t… kill me… like he did L-Laura?”
“He’s not getting you,” she said again. “But we’re getting him.”
Nothing. Silence.
“You survived, Sam. You made it through his hell and survived.” Did she understand how rare that was? “You made it through when—”
“I wanted to die! At the end… I just wanted it… over.”
She was talking because, deep inside, Monica knew she wanted to talk. Needed to. “That’s—”
“I wanted to be… like you. You’re strong… you would have… told him to… fuck off… and fought.”
A two-by-three-foot closet. No light. The only sounds—the screams. And they came too often.
“N-no one will… look at me the same… they’ll all think… I’m—”
“Strong.” Because she was. “You lived. You made it through. You fought him, and you stayed alive, even when you didn’t want to.”
Sam glanced back at her. “I… hurt so much.”
“I know.” She did. “And you just wanted the pain to stop.” A small pause. “Tell me the truth though. More than that, didn’t you want to stop him? To hurt him? To make him pay?” Kill him. The two-word mantra that had kept her going for all those months.
A grim nod. “But he was… so strong. I was… tired, weak—”
“He’d drugged you.” Hyde had found that out from her tox screen. “He wanted you slowed down because it was the only way he could control you.”
Because it was all about control. Something else she’d learned so long ago.
She stared into Sam’s eyes and walked to the bed. “You
’re going to get past this.”
“No.” So sure.
But she’d been certain once too. “The nightmares will come; they might even always come.” Hers still came. “But you’re going to keep living. Keep doing your job. Keep taking lovers, keep letting the days roll right by.” She stared down at Sam. “Because your life didn’t end in that water. You will keep going.”
A tear slipped from Sam’s left eye. “How do you know… for sure?”
She caught her hand. Squeezed tight. “Because I did.”
Sam’s lips trembled, and a sob shook her chest.
“Don’t make my mistakes,” Monica whispered. “Don’t close out life because you’re afraid—” Of living. Because you think you should have died, and you don’t deserve any second chances. Christ. Don’t miss out on life.
Because you were afraid.
“I see that water… every time I close my eyes.” Sam’s eyes squeezed shut. “Stop him.”
“I will.” She’d find the bastard. One way or another. Even if she had to be the bait to lure him in.…
Come and get me, asshole. Come and get me.
Monica slammed the SUV’s door, pressed the lock button automatically, and heard the blip-blip as the vehicle secured. The light above her flickered, flashing too bright, then too dim.
New lodgings. Hyde had been insistent on a location transfer for her, Luke, and Kenton after Sam’s attack. They were staying in a worn-down hotel, this one situated far off the main highway. Another dump.
But this dump only allowed access to the rooms from the lobby. One elevator. One flight of stairs, and, thanks to Hyde’s quick work, one video camera set up to monitor the entrance area at all times.
Lights glowed from half of the rooms in the three-floor hotel. The humming of an air conditioner reached her ears. Monica hurried her steps. She wanted to get inside, download the info that she’d requested from SSD, and see what she could track down through the database of—
Monica froze. She’d heard something. A whisper of sound. A rustle.
Not the wind. There was no wind on this hot southern night. No wind.
Something else. Someone else.
Her gun was in her hands in less than two seconds. She turned slowly, sweeping the lot with her eyes. Too many trees near the edges of the pavement. Too many places to hide.