by Cynthia Eden
“I’d like the name of her boyfriend, Ms. Peters.”
Her eyes opened. “Aren’t you guys supposed to keep people safe?”
“We try, ma’am. We try very hard.” Sometimes, we just don’t succeed. It was the failures that haunted him.
“Then how did this happen?” Another tear leaked down her cheek. “Why didn’t he keep her safe?”
“I’m not sure that I follow...”
“Her boyfriend! He was freaking FBI! She rushed down to New Orleans to meet him after he finished up a big case in Alabama.”
Bowen stiffened.
“Why didn’t he keep her safe?”
* * *
“SHIT, BABY, I hurt you.” Tucker’s voice was gruff as his index finger lightly touched her lip. “You’re bleeding.”
And the sight of that blood tore him up. Her busted lip. He should have been more careful. Damn it. He—
“I don’t know that you did it.” Her hand caught his wrist. “I think I bit my lip right before I came.”
His heart slammed into his chest.
“I was trying to be quiet.”
“You don’t have to be quiet.”
But she gave a sexy, husky laugh. “Trust me, I do. If your FBI buddies are close, I didn’t want them hearing me.”
He hated the sight of that blood on her lips. Tucker hurried into the bathroom and came back with a warm cloth. He dotted it against her mouth.
“You always took care of me.”
He stared into her eyes.
“That was one of the things I liked so much about you. The way you’d surprise me at lunch. Or bring me my favorite energy drink when I was pulling an all-nighter at school.” Her lips curved. “You brought me something every time we had a date. Books. Wine. Roses—”
But she broke off then, going silent. His gaze slid to her shoulder. To the three roses right there. Without another word, he got up and took the cloth back to the bathroom. When he returned to the bedroom, Tucker turned off the lights and slid into the bed with Dawn. She came toward him, curling her body against his, and he locked his arm around her, wanting to keep her right there.
He knew what she’d done tonight. She’d given him her trust—completely. He would do the same for her, even though he was the one who was afraid.
“The last time he hurt us...I was fifteen. Jason was seventeen, just about to turn eighteen.” His voice sounded wooden, even to his own ears. “It was out at that godforsaken cabin. He thought he could keep pushing us around, keep controlling us, but we weren’t kids any longer. We... I...fought back.”
Her hand was pressed right over his heart. Seemed fitting. Did she get that she’d always held the fucking thing in her palm? That he’d gone a bit mad without her?
“I hit him. Punched him. Yanked that belt right out of his hand, and Jason was with me. Kicking and pounding at him. Soon our old man was on the floor.” The rage he’d felt then had staggered him. He’d been shaking and a red haze had seemed to cover his vision. “He ran away from us, screaming that we’d pay. He jumped into his old truck and he shot off, careening down that old dirt road. I figured he’d go back to town. That he’d tell the cops what we’d done. He was always good at spinning stories. He’d tell them we attacked him and we’d go to jail.”
He could feel her light breath against his skin.
“I wasn’t afraid of jail. I was actually kind of relieved. At least I wouldn’t be with him any longer. No one else ever understood the shit we put up with in his house. We always said our bruises came from football. Not his fists.”
“I’m sorry. I was there. I saw you then, and I—”
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Nothing is on you. Remember that. Nothing is ever on you.” Then he put her hand back where it belonged. Right over his heart. “You probably heard the story about my dad dying...but what you heard, it wasn’t the way things really went down.” Dammit, this was hard. “What really happened... Hours passed while Jason and I were at that damn cabin, and the cops didn’t show. Jason and I started to think he was teaching us a lesson, just leaving us out there in the fucking heat of summer. No food. No drinks. So we started walking. It was night so at least it wasn’t so hot...” Such a lie. It was always hot in the summer, especially in the swamp. “We’d gone about two miles when we found him.” And he had to stop because the memories were so strong. He could hear the crickets, all of the insects chirping around him. He could see the sky filled with a thousand stars. And he’d seen the truck, curled around that big old tree. “Fate.”
“Tucker?”
“My first thought was that he’d gotten what he deserved. Twisted fucking fate. My mom drove away and died when he chased her. And now he...he was the one dead in the wreck. His truck had curled all the way around that tree. Never seen metal crunched that much. Jason ran to him, but I just stood for the longest time.” Staring at the crash. Fate. And he’d thought, This is what you get. This is what you deserve. Pain brings pain. Death brings death.
Tucker looked up at the dark ceiling but he still saw that star-filled night. “Then Jason yelled that he wasn’t dead.” His brother’s voice had cracked when he called out to Tucker. “My mom was trapped in her car, but our father was thrown from his truck. When I got to him, he was about fifteen feet away from the wreckage, like he’d been trying to crawl back toward us. He was covered in blood, choking on it, and he’d grabbed Jason’s leg, holding tight to him.”
“What...what did you do?”
“I watched him die.” The words came out quietly. His darkest secret. “We didn’t have a phone on us. Help wasn’t nearby. There wasn’t anything we could do...” His words trailed away. “That’s what I told myself. But that was bullshit. We both watched him die. We didn’t try to stop the blood. We didn’t try to give him comfort in those last minutes. Bruises were still all over us from the last beating that bastard had tried to give us, and we just watched him.” At the time, he hadn’t felt any emotion. It had just seemed...fitting...the end that his father had. “We were still standing next to him when a sheriff came by the next day, a guy who’d come out patrolling. He thought we’d been in the wreck, too. That we were lucky to survive.” Her touch was so warm on his skin. “Never told anyone differently.” Until her.
He’d had to pass psych tests when he enlisted in the Navy, and then again when he’d been a SEAL. Life seemed like one big test... Am I sane enough to handle what’s coming? It had been easy enough to give the right answers. After all, he’d gotten good at lying from an early age.
Pretending my father wasn’t an abusive bastard. Pretending every single day wasn’t a nightmare.
After Jason’s death, when he’d gone to join the FBI, there had been more tests... He’d gotten past them, too. But if the docs had known the truth about his father’s passing, about how he’d stood there and watched the man die, a grim smile on his lips, Tucker knew he wouldn’t have passed a damn thing.
“Couldn’t help but wonder,” he rasped out, “did my father turn Jason into a monster...or did he just pass that shit on down to my brother? Is it in the blood?” Then his laughter came, bitter and mocking. “Is it in me? Is that what you wonder now? Is it—”
“No.” Her voice was flat. And suddenly, she was even closer, pressing her body tightly to his. “I don’t wonder that about you. I see you.”
She didn’t always. Not right after he’d killed Jason and she’d run into the woods... Not weeks later when she’d cried in his bed. Not—
Dawn kissed him. He could taste the salt of tears in her kiss. She’d been crying for him. Silent tears while he told her his dark secret.
“I see you,” she said again. “And I know what you are.”
* * *
“CATHERINE...” BOWEN TRIED to keep his voice calm. The woman had been crying
for the last ten minutes, not making any sense. He reached for her hands and pulled her up so that she stood right in front of him. “I need you to take a breath for me. Can you do that?”
Her breath shuddered out. She gave a nod. Her nose was red. Her eyes still streaming.
“You said that Heather’s boyfriend worked for the FBI?”
“Y-yes... He’d just finished up a big case in Alabama...so he had some time off. He called. W-wanted her to meet him in New Orleans.”
His heartbeat drummed in his chest. “I need a name, okay?”
She blinked.
“Give me his name. Just...tell me his name.”
“Tuck.” Her lips trembled. “She called him Tuck. Never heard his last name...”
Son of a bitch.
* * *
“DAWN!” HE COULDN’T find her. His brother had fallen into the water and Dawn had run into the woods. She was hurt, terrified, and he couldn’t fucking find her. “Dawn, I swear, I am not going to hurt you.”
Insects chirped back at him. He could hear a gator croaking from the river, but there was no sign of Dawn. “Baby, please, come out.” He’d been searching for her, running desperately through those woods, but she seemed to have vanished.
Maybe she was unconscious. Maybe she couldn’t call back out to him. He didn’t know what all Jason had done to her.
Or maybe...maybe she was too afraid to call out.
She’s afraid of me.
“He’s gone. He’s never going to hurt you again.” Then Tucker heard a twig snap. He whipped around, looking to the left. “Dawn.” She was huddled against a big, arching oak tree, nearly hidden by its trunk and drooping limbs.
He rushed toward her.
Dawn threw up her hands. “No!” Her cry cut through the night. “Stay away from me!”
Tucker stilled. He needed her in his arms. “Jason is gone. He won’t ever hurt you again.”
Her hands dropped. He risked a step in her direction.
“Don’t be like him.” Her quiet plea. “Don’t hurt me.”
He took another step. Another. And he realized that she’d heard him calling for her all along, but she’d hidden. Not because she thought Jason was still out there.
But because she was afraid of me.
His jaw locked. He stood in front of her. Didn’t touch her, not yet. Tucker offered her his hand as she huddled on her knees. “I swear on my life, I would never hurt you.”
Slowly, her hand reached for his.
* * *
TUCKER’S EYES FLEW OPEN. He stared up at the darkened ceiling as his heart raced in his chest. He could feel Dawn’s body pressed against his, and he reached for the delicate hand that still lay over his chest.
He held her hand and hoped that she would always remember his promise.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SOMEONE WAS POUNDING on the door.
Tucker frowned as he looked at his watch. Barely 7:00 a.m. He hurried toward the hotel suite door, wondering if there had been a break in the case. But he hadn’t received any phone calls, and surely Bowen or Samantha would have notified him if they’d gotten a solid lead.
He checked the peephole.
Samantha. Bowen. Anthony.
And they all looked grim. What else was new? He flipped the lock and pulled open the door. “I’m guessing you have news that warranted an in-person talk?” An in-person group talk? Not good.
Samantha’s gaze swept over him. “Where’s Dawn?”
“In the shower. She should be coming out any moment.” His stare shifted to Bowen. “You look dead on your feet, man. When is the last time you crashed?”
Bowen’s jaw hardened. “We need to talk.”
Obviously. That was why the little group was at his door. Tucker stepped back, waving them inside. He glanced toward Dawn’s room, and just then, her door opened. She stood there, clad in a pair of jeans and a blue blouse, her hair still damp and her feet bare. “What’s going on?” Worry sharpened her voice as she hurried toward them. “Please, tell me no one else has been hurt.”
Samantha glanced at Bowen. If possible, his expression went even darker.
“Tell her,” Anthony snapped. “She needs to know what she’s dealing with.”
Dawn was at Tucker’s side. Her arm brushed against his.
Anthony noted that touch and his eyes turned to slits. “Be careful who you trust, Dawn.”
What in the hell was that supposed to mean?
Anthony took a step toward them, but Bowen threw out his arm, stopping him. “Cool down, Detective. Right now.”
But Anthony didn’t look cool. His cheeks had flushed. “You’re covering his ass because he’s one of yours.”
“We’re not covering anything,” Samantha threw right back. “I told you already, his DNA wasn’t a match.”
“Someone tell me what’s happening,” Tucker gritted. He didn’t like being in the dark.
Bowen glanced at Samantha. She nodded. With a sigh, he said, “I talked to Heather Hartley’s former college roommate last night. Turns out, Heather had a boyfriend, a guy she was supposed to meet up with down here.”
If possible, Anthony’s cheeks flushed an even darker red.
Voice low, Bowen continued, “According to Catherine Peters—that’s the roommate—Heather’s boyfriend was FBI.”
Shock rolled through Tucker. “You’re kidding me.”
“Wish I fucking was,” Bowen muttered. Then he cleared his throat. “According to Catherine, the guy had been working a case in Alabama—this was a few months back—and when the case wrapped up, he asked Heather to meet him in the Big Easy.”
The sound of Tucker’s heartbeat seemed far too loud as it drummed in his ears. He’d been working a case in Alabama just a few months ago. “We were in Fairhope,” he said, inclining his head toward Samantha. He’d been working with her and several other agents. Coincidence, of course, but...
“Catherine never met the boyfriend.” Bowen rubbed the back of his neck. The shadows under his eyes were dark. The guy had obviously pulled an all-nighter as he drove back from Baton Rouge. “But Heather told the roommate his name.” Bowen’s gaze darted to Dawn, then back to Tucker. “Heather called the guy Tuck.”
He shook his head.
“I questioned her thoroughly.” Bowen’s stare was unflinching. “And she swears that Heather was dating an FBI agent named Tuck. The roommate never saw pictures of the boyfriend, never heard his full name. That was all she had to give me.”
“It’s not me,” Tucker said flatly. “It’s fucking obvious what you’re thinking, but it’s not—”
“We have a partial DNA match.” Samantha’s hands were at her sides. She leaned forward, rocking lightly on her feet. “It came from skin cells recovered in the gloves taken by Red. You know our team can be fast, and I gave them the order for a rush job. This screening was top priority. They moved heaven and earth to get the results this quickly for us.”
Excitement heated his body. Good. Now they were getting somewhere. He’d hoped for more than partial results, but at least this was a start.
“To be clear,” Samantha continued, “the DNA did not belong to Jason Frost.”
“Because he’s dead,” Tucker snapped. He was sick of that refrain. He knew he’d killed his brother. I wasn’t letting him ever hurt Dawn again.
Dawn’s fingers found his.
“Dammit, you shouldn’t trust him,” Anthony snarled at her. “Dawn, don’t you see what he’s doing? You can’t put your faith in him.”
That guy was pushing him too far. Tucker’s back teeth had clenched. His fingers threaded with Dawn’s.
“The DNA was not Jason Frost’s.” Samantha eased out a low breath. “But as I said...it is a partial match. My techs believe t
hat it’s highly likely that a close relative of Jason’s left that evidence behind. The DNA sample matched Jason’s profile at most, but not all of the loci, and therefore the only conclusion that could be reached is that the killer we’re after here is, in fact, genetically linked to Jason.”
Linked. Related. A dull ringing filled his ears. “It’s not me.” He was the only relative left. His hold tightened on Dawn. He turned his head, needing to stare into her eyes as he said, “It’s not me.”
Her gaze was wide, stunned.
“No.” Samantha spoke quickly. “Your DNA is also in the system, and...after Bowen called me from Baton Rouge, I had the techs triple-check the results for me.”
Fucking triple-check? She doubted me, too?
“The DNA found on the gloves matches some of your loci, too, Tucker, but not all. Again...our data indicates that the killer is related to you.”
He couldn’t read the emotions in Dawn’s eyes. He only knew his own disbelief and fury were about to tear him apart. Tucker swung his head back toward Samantha. “I have no relatives. My mother is dead, she was an only child, and my father is long gone, too. He had a brother, but the guy passed away when my father was ten. There is no other family. There was me. There was Jason. That was it.”
There isn’t another relative. There isn’t another killer.
Yet...
There had to be.
“There is no mistake with these results,” Samantha continued as her chin lifted. “The analysts are paid to be very, very thorough.”
“I don’t understand.” Dawn’s hand was still in Tucker’s but her gaze had darted to Samantha. “You’re saying Jason has...what? A cousin out there? Another family member who is picking up where he left off?”