by Cynthia Eden
“In the middle of the night. Twelve-oh-three.” He tapped his pen against the table. “Why’d you do that?”
Her heart raced in her chest. “Because I wanted to see him.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
His eyes narrowed on her. “And it couldn’t wait until morning?”
He wasn’t going to buy her story. Wasn’t going to understand that she’d needed to act. Needed to get out of that house. Needed Zander.
Only Zander wasn’t the man she’d thought.
Fool me once…
“Ms. May?”
“No, it couldn’t wait until morning.”
He arched one brow.
The door opened. Softly. A creak of sound. Even before she turned her head, Alice knew…
Zander was there. He stood in the doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders and muscled build. He still wore jeans and a black t-shirt, but a badge was now clipped to his waist. His hair was tousled, as if he’d raked his fingers through the thick mess a few times. He looked rough, dangerous, and sexy.
He looked like a damn liar.
Zander rasped, “Alice…”
Her gaze whipped back to Randall. “What other questions do you have?”
His stare drifted between her and Zander. Then back to her. “When you returned to your house this morning, what did you do?”
“I went straight upstairs. I was planning to shower, but when I got to my room, I realized that—” Fear. She’d walked into her bedroom, and frozen with fear. The scream had seemed to echo distantly around her. Alice swallowed. “I realized that someone had been inside. Someone had destroyed my clothes. My furniture. Everything in that room.”
“And who do you think did that?” Randall wanted to know.
She barely bit back…You’re the FBI agent. You tell me. Her temples were throbbing. Her stomach in absolute knots. “It’s the anniversary of Hugh’s death. If I had to guess who’d done it, I’d say it was one of his crime groupies. Someone who wanted to make sure I didn’t forget Hugh’s twisted legacy.” She focused on breathing. Nice and slow. “It’s not the first time I’ve had my home broken into. You can check the police records in Savannah. When I lived there, I had a few break-ins.”
Zander marched toward the table. The space was already small, and he made it feel even smaller. He stopped right next to her. “But you haven’t experienced break-ins since you moved up here?”
She didn’t want to look at him. Looking at him hurt. Obviously, the guy had been doing undercover work. She got that. And, obviously, she’d been his target.
Why? Probably because the FBI still mistakenly thought she’d been involved with Hugh’s crimes. How many times did she have to tell them they were wrong?
“Alice?” Zander pushed.
She licked her lips. “No, there haven’t been any break-ins here. I thought I was safe.” Her shoulders rolled back. “Guess I was wrong.”
Randall’s sharp eyes swept over her face. “Did you see anyone when you went inside your house?”
“No. Didn’t see anyone, and nothing seemed to be touched—at least, not downstairs. And I only got to see my bedroom really before I was pulled out.” By an agent. My new lover—the agent. Shit. “So, uh, if more rooms were ransacked, I don’t know—”
“It was just the bedroom,” Zander cut in. “From what we can tell, the perp focused there.” He paused. “There seemed to be a whole lot of rage in the attack.”
She’d thought the same thing.
Randall cleared his throat. “Tell me, Ms. May, do you feel a lot of rage?”
It took a moment too long for his words to register. When they did, she leapt to her feet, sending her chair topping behind her. “What?”
But Randall nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
No, no, this wasn’t happening. “You think I did this? You think I destroyed my own stuff?
“That is one possibility,” Randall allowed as he stroked his chin.
Her hands slapped down on the table. “It’s not. I didn’t do it. I—”
“You could have destroyed your room before you went to visit Agent Todd last night. After all, as you said, it was the anniversary of Hugh’s death. Maybe you got emotional. Maybe your fury took over. Maybe you had to let the rage out. You destroyed the room, and then you went on your little trek through the woods. Perhaps you planned out a whole, dramatic scene.”
“No, I—”
“You could have planned to bring Agent Todd back to your house. Maybe you were going to create a dramatic scene where you screamed, and he came rushing to your rescue.”
Her heart was pounding far too fast. “I don’t want anyone to rescue me.”
Randall shrugged. “Then maybe you just wanted to throw the FBI off your trail. Is that what happened? You realized we were watching you.”
God, how long had they been watching?
“You realized we were going to tie you to the murder of Julianna Stiles.”
Who?
“And you wanted to make Agent Todd believe you were innocent. A victim. So you set the scene and—”
Her gaze snapped to Zander. “I didn’t know you were FBI.” That betrayal was still too fresh and painful.
“Alice—” Zander began, voice rough.
But she’d already turned her stare back on Randall. “Who is Julianna Stiles?”
“Oh, she’s just the Secret Admirer’s latest victim,” Randall told her, waving his hand vaguely in the air.
That…wasn’t possible. Hugh was dead.
But Randall had opened a manila file. No, God, not another one of those! The agents in Savannah had loved opening their files and making her look at crime scene photos. Must be some kind of FBI protocol shit because, sure enough, Randall proceeded to pull out some photos. He shoved them across the table at her, and Alice automatically glanced down.
A brunette woman. Heart-shaped face. A woman who looked so similar to Alice. A woman who had a knife sticking out of her chest. There were close-up shots of her body—of the slashes on her arms. On her neck. On her face.
“You just had to pick up where your lover left off, didn’t you?” Now Randall had risen to his feet.
Alice backed away from the table. “I didn’t—I’ve never hurt anyone!”
“So, what, you just watched before?” Randall hammered at her. “Watched while Hugh killed the others, but when he died, you decided to finally step it up with Julianna? Decided it was your time to—”
“No!” Alice practically screamed. It can’t be happening again. “I never knew! And I didn’t do this!” She pointed at the victim’s pictures with a shaking hand.
But Randall just smiled at her. “Really?”
Yes, really!
Her legs were shaking. Her whole body was shaking. This couldn’t be happening. Could. Not. Be.
She’d woken up in bed with Zander that morning. She’d been happy. Finally, things were turning around for her.
Then she’d seen her bedroom.
And her past had sucked her right back in.
“Alice?” Zander reached for her arm.
She flinched away from him. She could feel a tear sliding down her cheek. “You think I killed that woman?” Alice made herself stare into his eyes.
He didn’t answer her.
The man who’d made love to her the night before—he thought she was a killer.
But, then, no, he hadn’t made love to her. He’d fucked her. There was a difference. Right?
“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Alice whispered. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold herself together for just a little while longer. “And if you want to charge me, then do it. Otherwise, I’m walking out of this place right now.”
A muscle flexed in Zander’s jaw.
“You’re free to go,” Randall told her. “For now.”
Alice could only shake her head. She rushed toward the door, making sure that she didn’t touch Zander on her way out. She felt like her body might shatter into a million piece
s. She needed to get out of that station. Needed to get some fresh air. To breathe.
But—
“Alice, stop!”
A hard hand closed over her shoulder. She was pulled back, and Alice whipped around to find Zander staring down at her.
“Get your hand off me,” she ordered. “Right now.”
His hand fell away.
They were in the lobby of the sheriff’s station. People were watching them. Straining to listen. Uniformed deputies. FBI agents.
“You lied to me,” Alice said, her voice thick with anger and pain.
“I was doing my job.”
That jab went straight to her heart. “That’s what you were doing last night?”
He flinched. “Alice—”
“I didn’t hurt that woman. I never hurt any of them.” She wouldn’t break down in front of him and all of the others there. She’d get out of this place. She’d walk back to her cabin if she had to do it. “Stay away from me, understand?”
But Zander shook his head. “That’s not going to be possible. We have to investigate the break-in at your cabin.”
“Get another agent to do it. I want you far away from me.” Because he’d hurt her, damn him. She’d opened up and trusted someone.
Only to find herself betrayed…again.
She spun away and rushed out of the station’s glass front door. The sun glared down on her as Alice hurried down the stone steps. She didn’t look back, not even when she heard the door opening behind her. She knew it was Zander. Knew that he’d followed her. She ran toward the road. She’d get out of there. She’d—
A car’s engine growled. Alice’s head whipped up, just in time to see a dark sedan surging toward her. Time seemed to slow down. She couldn’t look past the front of that car, the gleaming bumper headed straight toward her.
But then something else hit her. Someone. She was wrapped in strong arms, and Alice found herself hurtling across the road. The sedan flew by her, missing her body by inches, and Alice struggled to suck in a deep breath.
“Are you okay?”
Zander’s voice. Zander was right above her. He’d grabbed her. Shoved her out of the sedan’s path, and they’d both hit the pavement far too hard.
“Baby?” His hands were tight on her. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes…”
He pulled Alice to her feet. The sedan was long gone. “The sonofabitch never even braked. And I swear, it looked like he was fucking aiming at you.”
Deputies and FBI agents were spilling out of the station and rushing toward them.
“I got the tag,” Zander called out to them. He was still holding her hand. Still keeping her close. His voice lowered as he said, “We’re going to get the jerk, don’t worry.”
But she was worried. No, she was actually scared to death.
Because someone had broken into her home. Destroyed her bedroom.
And now…
She’d almost been killed.
Alice was pretty sure the day couldn’t get much worse.
Chapter Six
The deputies found the black sedan—it was a stolen ride that had been abandoned at the edge of town. There was no sign of the driver, and as he stared at the vehicle, Zander knew things were only going to get worse.
“A hit and run,” he muttered as Randall came to his side. “Right in front of the sheriff’s station. That sure as hell takes a lot of balls.”
Randall swiped a hand over his jaw. “Technically, there wasn’t a hit.”
Only because Zander had been able to get Alice out of the way in time. “He aimed for her.” And that shit had his hands clenching. “He switched lanes just to hit her. The driver wanted to hurt Alice.”
Randall’s head turned, and he met Zander’s stare. “We both know there are a lot of people out there who think Alice needs to pay, Z.”
The families of the victims were right at the top of that list. They’d raged at the FBI offices. Pressed prosecutors. Demanded justice. But there just hadn’t been enough evidence to link Alice to the Secret Admirer’s crimes.
And Zander thought it was because…she’s not guilty.
“The one-year anniversary,” Zander muttered. “And things are going to hell.”
“You can say that again.” Randall gave a grim nod.
“Agents!” A young deputy’s voice cracked with excitement. “We’ve got something!”
They immediately raced toward the sedan just as a crime scene tech lifted a necklace out of the vehicle. Her gloved fingers trembled a bit around the evidence. “It was inside the glove compartment.” She lifted it higher, and Zander could see the face of the pendant. It was engraved with a cursive J.
His shoulders tensed. He’d seen that necklace before. “With all of my love, Mark.”
Randall swore, obviously making the connection, too.
But the deputy and the tech just frowned at Zander.
“Check the back,” he ordered flatly. “See if that inscription is there. With all of my love, Mark.”
The tech turned the necklace over. Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
“I know,” Zander explained as his heart raced faster, “because that necklace belongs to a woman who was murdered. Julianna Stiles. Her boyfriend gave her that necklace, and it hadn’t been seen since the night she was abducted.” Abducted, tortured, then killed—in the exact same manner as the other victims of the Secret Admirer. “Fucking hell.”
“Bag it,” Randall ordered the tech. “And make sure you go over every single inch of this car.” He grabbed Zander’s elbow and pushed him back from the scene. “Sonofabitch. You know what this means?”
Of course, he fucking knew. “He left that necklace in the car deliberately. He wanted us to know what he’d done. Who he was.”
What he’d done…murdered Julianna Stiles.
Who he was…the damn killer.
“You didn’t get a look at the driver? Didn’t see anything about him?”
If only. “I just saw Alice. I was focused on getting to her.” Once he’d had her out of the road, he’d glanced back in time to see the license plate. But no, he’d never gotten a look at the driver. Alice had already told him that she hadn’t been able to see the fellow, either.
Zander released a slow breath. “He aimed for Alice.”
Randall’s eyes had gone wide. “She’s his target. The break-in…shit, he went there for her. But she was with you last night. Then we took her to the station, and he still followed. He’s after Alice.”
Zander’s whole body tensed.
“He’ll come for her again,” Randall said.
“The Secret Admirer never tried to hit someone with his car.” Didn’t make a bit of sense. Unless… “Shit, he wanted to separate her from us. We were in his way.” And now, Alice was at the hospital. She’d been sent over in an ambulance after the attack, just as a precaution. A precaution that Zander had insisted upon. He’d also made sure a deputy accompanied her. That deputy had better be sticking to her like glue.
He spun to head back to his vehicle.
Randall grabbed his arm. “If she’s really the target—”
If? Her bedroom had been destroyed. She’d been inches away from getting hit by the sedan.
“If she’s the target, then we can use her, Z.”
Zander stiffened as he studied at his friend.
“She can draw him in. We can catch the sonofabitch.” Randall nodded decisively, as if he’d just come up with the best plan ever.
“You want her to be bait for a killer?” Fuck that shit. Worst plan ever.
“You told me that Alice said she wished she could have stopped the killer before he hurt those other women.”
“Yeah? So?”
“This is her chance to stop him.”
It was also her chance to die. From what they’d seen and learned, Hugh Collins had never intended to kill Alice. He’d loved her, as much as he could love. But this perp—this perp was different.
Thi
s perp wanted Alice to die.
***
A knock sounded at her hospital room door.
Alice looked up, hating that she was in that place with its white walls and sterile smells. After arriving, a nurse had instructed Alice to put on a hospital gown, and she’d been given a room. Then Alice had been poked and prodded by a young doctor—a doctor who had asked her to stay the night for observation. Why? As far as Alice was concerned, she was absolutely fine. A few scrapes and some bruises, but nothing that wouldn’t heal.
“I have a delivery for you.” A woman with dark hair gave Alice a wide smile. She stood just inside the hospital room. Alice hadn’t even heard her enter. “An order came in through our online system. Someone wanted you to get better soon.” She held a vase full of red roses in her hands.
Alice stiffened at the sight of those roses.
She’d hated roses, ever since her wedding day.
Hated them even more when she’d learned that the Secret Admirer had sent roses to the victims he’d stalked.
“I’ll put them beside the bed.” The woman’s voice was extra cheery. She set down the roses and smiled at Alice. “Lucky lady.” The brunette appeared to be around twenty, and she gave a little hum as she carefully touched the roses. “Someone must think you are very special.”
Alice couldn’t take her gaze off the roses.
“I’m Tiffany, by the way. I work in the gift shop.”
She still couldn’t look away from the flowers. “Who…who sent them?”
Tiffany laughed. “It’s a surprise! Look at the card, and you’ll see what I mean.” Tiffany patted Alice’s arm. “Feel better, you hear?” Tiffany’s shoes didn’t make a sound as she left, but she pulled the door shut with a hard click.
Alice reached out her hand, grasping the card that had been tucked inside the flowers. She pulled the card out of its small, white envelope.
Sorry I missed you. Next time, I won’t.
Breathing became hard. Her heart nearly burst from her chest because the note ended with—
Your Secret Admirer.
Oh, hell no. Hell, no. Alice jumped from the bed. She wanted to throw those roses across the room. Instead, she ran for the door. She jerked it open, and the deputy who’d been assigned to be her shadow shoved away from the wall. “Ms. May?”