Twisted

by Cynthia Eden

  The doctors were worried about an infection setting in with Julia. They’d stabilized her, done their best, but she’d had deep wounds—and they had no idea how long she’d been in that swamp.

  “She just wanted to go home.”

  He turned and found Sarah edging closer. Sarah’s eyes were on the mother and daughter. Dean and Sarah weren’t allowed past the nurses’ station in ICU, and Elroy had sent one of his men over to stand guard near Julia’s bed. Dean didn’t usually find many reasons to be grateful to that dick Elroy, but he was glad the man was trying to watch out for Julia.

  “On the helicopter ride, she spoke, just a bit. She kept asking for her home.” Sarah seemed sad. It was odd to hear any emotion coming from her, and when Dean studied her a bit more closely, he saw her blink quickly, as if she were trying to clear tears from her eyes. “But it’s so hard to go back home after something like this. The rest of the world will expect her to be normal again, but every time she closes her eyes, she’s going to see . . . him.”

  He’d wanted to question Sarah before, but he’d tried to respect her privacy. He knew she’d been through a hell that few could ever imagine.

  When you close your eyes, Sarah, do you see your father?

  “She’s going to need extensive counseling. You can’t just get over something like this. Surviving the swamp wasn’t enough. Now she has to survive everything else that’s coming.”

  He knew Sarah was speaking from her own personal experience.

  Her gaze slid to his, and her cheeks flushed. Had she just realized how much of herself she’d revealed?

  “I’ll speak with the FBI and the local police—they need to understand just how delicate she will be—psychologically—when she comes back to us.” Then she cleared her throat. Straightened her shoulders. “What’s the status of the search for Ricker?”

  She wanted to change the subject. Fine with him. He never wanted to push Sarah too much. He always felt like he needed to tread very carefully with her. He rubbed his neck, so much tension had gathered there, and he told her, “Wade found out that the cadaver dogs are in the swamp.” Wade had a good contact in Detective Landry, and the guy was going to keep them apprised of the investigation. “And Victoria got into town a little while ago, so if they do find any bodies . . . maybe the FBI will let her examine the remains.”

  Because Victoria Palmer was one of the best forensic anthropologists in the United States. Gabe had convinced her to come to work for LOST a little over a year before. If anyone could unlock the secrets of the dead, it would be Victoria.

  He inclined his head toward Sarah. “Do you think he’s going to come for her again?”

  Sarah’s gaze had returned to Julia’s still figure. “He didn’t come for you.”

  No, he hadn’t. “That’s why I thought he was dead all these years.” Because after what he’d done to Ricker, Dean had sure expected to be hunted. If the guy lived.

  Sarah bit her bottom lip, an unusual sign of nervousness from her, and said, “There are a lot of rumors about what happened the night he attacked you.”

  Yeah, he knew that. “There are lots of rumors about you, too.”

  She nodded. “Only some of those rumors are true.”

  “So are some of my rumors.”

  They measured each other.

  Finally, Sarah said, “It’s a challenge to him. A game of survival. Right now, no one is sure if Julia has survived or not. The next few days are key for her.”

  Because maybe Ricker wouldn’t have to come and finish her off at all. “You think he’s just sitting back and waiting for her to die.”

  “The doctors said she would need to be a fighter to pull through.”

  Yes, he knew they had said that.

  “We all have to wait and find out just how much Julia wants to live.”

  Dean rolled his shoulders, trying to push some of the tension away, but it wouldn’t vanish. He kept seeing that damn muddy water in his mind. The bastard had been right there. If I’d gotten there sooner, Ricker could be in jail.

  Now the guy was out in Louisiana somewhere. But you aren’t going to hurt Emma. I won’t let you.

  “There’s not much else we can do here tonight,” Sarah said. “The guard is in position, and the nurses aren’t going to let us near her anytime soon.”

  Not until Julia woke up. If she woke up.

  “I need to take Emma home.” Home. Where was home? Her apartment—the place that had been destroyed—or his hotel room?

  “Are you using her as bait?”

  The question pierced through him. Emma had offered herself as bait, but, hell, no, he didn’t want her risked.

  “Because we both know,” Sarah continued quietly, “that he means to take her. The guy has developed a new ritual that he follows, that’s obvious. He’s building up to her abduction. He was probably going to do it in the square, but then he realized a new woman had taken her place there. That is the reason why he killed Lisa Nyle. Because his rage erupted. But he isn’t going to stop, you know that. I know that.”

  He glanced toward the waiting room. Emma was out there, with Wade as her guard. “Emma knows that, too.”

  “Ah . . . so she’s willing bait?”

  There was a darker note in her voice. Dean focused on her once more.

  “The FBI has taken over on this one, and we . . . we find the missing. No one is lost here.”

  Not yet.

  “How long do you think the team will be able to stay down here? We have other cases. Other people out there who are waiting on us.”

  He knew. Dean was well aware of the fact that he was working against the clock.

  “We can’t protect her every moment.”

  We can try.

  “I’m not giving up,” Dean said simply. “Not yet. Ricker has taken too many lives, and I know him better than anyone else. I can bring him down.”

  She eased closer to him. “I know he’s the reason you left the FBI. But, Dean, you need to be sure on this . . . are you doing what’s best for Emma? Or are you letting the desire for revenge cloud your mind?”

  “Revenge?” Now she had surprised him. “That’s not what I want.”

  Her dark gaze held his. “He nearly killed you. You stayed in the hospital for weeks. After his case, you left the FBI—”

  “That was my choice. I got sick of working with guys like Elroy, guys who would rather push papers around all day and bind you up in red tape instead of getting out there and trying to save a life.” He fought to keep his voice steady and not let the rage sweep over him. “I’ve saved lives at LOST, not just buried the dead. Isn’t that why you’re at LOST? Because you want to help people?”

  Her stare slid from his. “That’s one of the reasons.”

  Sarah and her secrets.

  “Are you taking Emma back to the hotel?” Sarah asked.

  Her place was still a wreck, so, yeah, he’d planned to take her with him. His hotel would be home for the night.

  “Is she safe with you?”

  He didn’t know what the hell kind of question that was. “Don’t profile me, Sarah.” It was a flat demand.

  Because he knew that if she looked too deeply into him, Sarah wouldn’t like what she discovered. No one ever did.

  He marched back to the waiting room. Found Emma standing near the window, with Wade just a few feet away. Dean didn’t slow down as he approached them. He just walked up to Emma and took her hand.

  “Guess you’re taking over guard duty,” Wade murmured.

  His curt nod was Dean’s only response, but then he got a look at Emma’s face. There were tears on her cheeks. “Emma?” Everything stopped then. Every fucking thing.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Lisa,” Emma whispered. “She was here, in this hospital last night.”

  And he was a dumb asshole. He pulled her with him, leading her toward the elevator because he wanted her out of that place. He should have thought about Emma’s reaction to being at the hospital aga
in. Dean should have gotten Wade to watch her at the hotel. But he’d wanted her close, and he’d caused her pain.

  I’m a selfish bastard.

  The elevator doors slid shut on them, and he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her against his chest. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d apologized to anyone, and the words felt rusty coming out. “I should have thought, I—”

  “I wanted to check on Julia, too. I wanted to be here.” She gazed up at him with those bright blue eyes, eyes that were wet from her tears, and he realized that the woman could take him to his knees.

  His thumbs brushed over her cheeks as the elevator descended.

  He hadn’t thought much about tears before, but he knew that he never wanted to see Emma crying again.

  Her hand lifted and pressed to his chest. “What happens now?”

  “I take you back to my hotel. You’ll be safe there, and—”

  “I can’t hide forever.”

  No, she couldn’t. “For tonight, I’ll know you’re safe.” Safe in his room, in his bed. Tomorrow, they’d start their attack.

  “No one is ever really one hundred percent safe.” The doors opened, but Emma stood there, in his arms. “You know that, don’t you? No matter how hard you try, you can’t protect everyone.”

  He leaned closer to her. His lips brushed over her ear as he told her, “I’m not trying to protect everyone. Just you.” And he was surprised by how much he meant those words. He didn’t form attachments easily but Emma . . . something about her was different. Something was pulling him in.

  And demanding that he hold as tightly to her as he could.

  LITTLE JULIA WAS alive, for the moment. Perhaps she was more of a fighter than he’d realized.

  He stood across from the hospital, and he saw Dean Bannon exit the building. Dean’s arm was around Emma Castille’s shoulders. The man always seemed to be touching her, always staying close. The attachment that he’d formed was obvious.

  Not that he blamed the man. Emma was very beautiful. But beauty was fleeting. It was weak. Beauty could be broken so easily.

  Would Emma break easily?

  Dean and Emma climbed into a car. Drove away.

  It was almost time for him to find out. He’d warned Emma. Perhaps she should have tried to run. But instead, she’d decided to seek protection from Bannon.

  Wrong move. He can’t help you.

  And just what would it do to Bannon when she vanished? When he lost Emma and was never able to find her again?

  His lips curved as he enjoyed the idea. He’d originally wanted to take Emma because he feared she’d seen him that night with Julia. The more he’d watched Emma, watched her searching on her own, the more she’d appealed to him. Poor Emma, she was like his other prey, one of the “forgotten”—the term he gave for the people that you saw on the street. The people you spoke with, the people you smiled at, and the people you forgot.

  People without families. Without close friends.

  The homeless were forgotten. The runaways were forgotten. And women like Emma? Women who never let anyone get too close?

  They vanished, too.

  He hoped that Emma enjoyed her night with Bannon. It would be her last good night, before she learned just how dark and dangerous life could be.

  He’d teach her, the same way he’d taught Julia. The same way he’d taught so many others since he’d found his true calling.

  And as a bonus, her disappearance would rip apart Bannon’s world.

  Rain began to fall then, a light spray that drifted over him. He turned up his collar and walked into the waiting night.

  EMMA WASN’T USED to uncertainty. But she stood in the middle of Dean’s swank hotel room, her hair wet from the rain, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

  “You have to be exhausted,” Dean said as he motioned toward the door on the right. The door that led to his bedroom. “You should get some sleep.”

  Yes, there was the uncertainty part. “I’m not tired.” Well, okay, she was, but matters far more pressing than sleep were on her mind.

  When you knew that a killer had you in his sights, sleep wasn’t exactly high on your priority list. Staying alive? That was.

  “You aren’t going to stop hunting for Ricker, are you?” She needed to hear him say the words.

  He was staring out the window, looking down at the city below. “No. Now that I know he’s out there, I can’t just walk away.”

  Good. Because she’d feared that the LOST team would be packing up and leaving the Big Easy. Running was certainly an option that had danced through her head when she’d first walked into her apartment and seen the wreckage, but Emma knew she couldn’t just go now.

  Because Lisa deserves better.

  Emma had already hit her savings, the precious money that she’d fought so hard to keep over the years. She knew that Nate didn’t have much money, and she wanted Lisa to have a nice funeral. So she’d contacted her bank and given Nate as much as she had.

  “We’re still partners,” Emma told him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Back to that, are we?”

  Her hands twisted in front of her. “I can help you more than you realize.” They’d never gotten to take their little trip the other night—because they’d found Lisa. But either with or without Dean, she’d be visiting her contacts at dawn. They could tell her far more than any cop ever could about what had been happening in New Orleans.

  About just who else might have vanished.

  And she’d only have to make a small deal with the devil in order to get that information. Some deals were worth it, though.

  Dean turned to fully face her. There was tension in the long, hard lines of his body. Tension that seemed to cling in the air around him. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  Really? She was pretty sure he was the man she’d had mind-blowing sex with in that very hotel room. She also thought he was the too-uptight LOST agent who’d managed to galvanize a search for a missing girl. He was annoying, he was sexy, and he was probably going to drive her insane at some point.

  “There are things I’ve done that no one else knows about. If you’re going to stay with me, if he’s coming for you, then you need to know about them.”

  She took one tentative step toward him. “You make your life sound so scary.”

  His jaw hardened even more.

  “That bad?” Emma whispered.

  “You met Elroy today. When I was working the Ricker case for the FBI, he was the agent in charge.”

  Yes, she’d already picked up all of that. Emma waited for him to continue.

  “I thought I knew where Ricker was holding Charlotte. All of my intel was good. I knew we had to act.”

  She took another step toward him. “But he held you back.”

  “He wanted to wait for more confirmation. I didn’t. So I took off on my own.”

  Emma found herself closing the distance between them, not stopping until they were just inches apart. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t, she waited. “You wanted to save her.”

  He gave a hard shake of his head. “That’s the problem. For someone so good at reading people, you can’t read me.”

  She thought she could read him pretty damn well.

  “She was still alive when I got there, but before I could get help, he attacked me.”

  She couldn’t wait any longer. Her hand lifted. Pressed to his chest. The shirt separated her palm from the scars that marked his chest.

  “He didn’t kill me outright. He stepped back. Watched me bleed. Left that knife in my chest.”

  Don’t think of Lisa!

  “Then he walked away. The SOB thought I’d just lie there while he got away.” His hands fisted at his sides. “He thought wrong. I had a backup weapon in my ankle holster. I went after him. I . . . shot him.”

  Did he expect her to be horrified by that? He had no clue who she was then. “You fired your weapon because you we
re trying to stay alive!”

  “After the first shot, he lost his knife. The bullet slammed into his right shoulder, and his whole arm pretty much became useless. I could have stopped then. Taken him into custody.”

  She shook her head.

  “Charlotte had fallen over the side of the mountain. Before he’d stabbed me, she’d been crying out. And after I shot him . . . by then, she wasn’t anymore.”

  Emma hurt for him. Hurt for the woman called Charlotte.

  “He told me that she wasn’t suffering anymore. He laughed, and my control broke.”

  The precious control that he held so tightly. “Dean . . .”

  “So I shot him again. I didn’t aim for his heart or his head because I wanted those bullets to hurt him. I wanted him to suffer, just as his victims had suffered. Why should he get off scot-free? Why shouldn’t he feel the same agony that he’d given to us?”

  Her hand pressed harder to his chest.

  “The FBI reports would say I was defending myself, but that was bull. I was attacking him. I wanted to kill him, and I thought I had. After the second shot, he went over the edge of that cliff. I looked, but I didn’t see him. I believed he was dead. When the other agents finally arrived, they searched, too . . . a man shouldn’t survive a drop like that.”

  “But he did,” she whispered.

  “It sure as fuck looks that way. We have his DNA here and, when Julia wakes up, she’ll be able to give us a description of the man who took her.”

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t know what you want me to think about you. He attacked you, Dean. You were definitely defending yourself.” How could he think anything different?

  But his face was still locked in that fierce mask. “There was a line there. When he lost his weapon. When I could have held him at gunpoint until backup arrived. But I didn’t want to hold him. I wanted him to suffer, and I wanted him to die in agony.”

  It was there, then, creeping into his voice. A harder growl. A darkness. She could see the edge that clung to him.

  “I left the FBI because I didn’t want to play by their rules any longer. Didn’t want to sit back and wait for some pencil pusher to tell me what to do. I wanted to act.”