by Cynthia Eden
“He could have been gone the whole night,” Dr. Lang whispered, “and I didn’t know.” She stared into Macey’s eyes and then said once more, as if ashamed, “I didn’t know.”
I didn’t know that I was working side by side with a killer.
Macey nodded and she slipped out of the room. She closed the door behind her, and then stood there for a moment, her shoulders slumping.
“You need rest.”
Samantha.
Macey’s head whipped up.
“How long has it been since you slept, Agent Night?”
Macey stared at her, honestly not sure. It had been twenty-four hours since Jonah went missing and she had been awake at least—
“I booked you a room at a lodge on the edge of town. A place that I’ve made sure is completely secure.” Samantha waved toward her. “Go there. Get some sleep. Because you are no good when you’re dead on your feet.”
Bowen slipped into the hallway. He’d been in the room next to the interrogation area, and she knew he’d watched her interview with Dr. Lang through the one-way mirror on the right wall.
“You, too, Bowen,” Samantha ordered him. “Go get some rest. Tucker and I will take the night shift. If anything happens, if we get any news, I’ll call you both right away.”
Since Macey could feel herself bottoming out, she nodded. Walking away from the case wasn’t easy, but it was either walk or, if she didn’t get some sleep soon...
Fall.
* * *
SAMANTHA WATCHED AS Macey and Bowen filed out of the police station. Dr. Amelia Lang was still in the interrogation room, and Samantha knew she would be sending a patrol with the forensic geophysicist when Lang left the station.
“You think Wesley will come after Dr. Lang?” Tucker asked as he drew near to her.
“Not going to take any chances on that.” Dr. Lang had worked side by side with the missing man. Would he view her cooperation with the feds as some sort of betrayal? This guy seemed to judge everyone—and everything. And he finds us all lacking.
“If this kid is the one we’re after—” Tucker exhaled and his voice dropped, carrying only to her ears “—then I was wrong about Jonah.”
Her head turned and she met his gaze. “You were always against him joining our unit.”
“He avoided the field like the plague. I talked to other agents. They all warned me of the same thing. He wasn’t the type to have your back.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “With our group, I couldn’t take the chance on having a weak link. We battle some of the most vicious criminals out there. A single hesitation is a death sentence.”
Yes, it was.
“But now I’m fucking second-guessing myself. With this news about Wesley Kaiser...” He exhaled. “I could see the kid wanting revenge. But hell, why not just go after Peter Carter directly? Why all of this other stuff? It doesn’t fit.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She began to tap her right foot. “Your instincts have always been good. You know I respect them, and you.”
“So did Jonah run?” Tucker demanded. “Does he know his ass is in the fire and he just vanished? I mean, maybe the perp didn’t take him. Maybe that’s why Bowen hasn’t gotten a call.”
“Is that what your instincts say?”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“Mine, too,” she told him. Samantha exhaled on a slow sigh. “You know, I think you had a point earlier. When you said it was almost like our killer had a split personality.”
His brow furrowed.
“A split personality, or maybe we’re just looking at two distinct personalities. Maybe we always were.” She hurried toward the conference room. “Make sure that Dr. Lang has an escort tonight—and that the cop stays at her motel to keep watch. Then come with me. We need to go over those files again. Every one. Because we’ve missed something.”
Or maybe not something, she realized, but someone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEY HAD CONNECTING rooms at the lodge. Bowen’s gaze slid to that connecting door—and he wondered if Macey had already crashed. She’d looked exhausted, and hell, he understood. They’d been running on fumes for the last few hours. All day, they’d barely eaten. They’d barely stopped.
They’d hunted.
And the man they’d needed—Wesley Kaiser—had been right there. Under their noses at the cabin. He’d just slipped away from them. Vanished.
The guy knew the mountains. He knew the area too well. They’d searched but hadn’t been able to find him. The Smokies were just full of too many hiding spaces. The guy’s rented car had still been parked in the lot at the trailhead, and they’d left a guard there to see if he came out.
But so far, there’d been no news on him.
Bowen had showered, trying to wash the hell of the day off his skin and now, clad in a pair of loose sweats, he found himself walking toward the door that connected his room to Macey’s.
His hand lifted to curl around the doorknob. He unlocked the door.
She said I was her choice.
But he hesitated. He—
The door opened. Macey stood there, her hair wet around her shoulders, wearing a T-shirt with FBI written across the chest. The blue shirt ended at the middle of her thighs.
“I kept waiting for you to come to me.” She looked at the hand he still had raised. “Guess I should have waited a few more minutes.”
No, he never wanted her to wait—
“I want to sleep with you.” A faint smile curved her lips, but the smile never reached her eyes. “This time, I’m not here asking you to fuck me. I just want to fall asleep in your arms and know that, for a few moments, I’m safe. Because that’s what you are to me, Bowen.” Her smile had faded. “You’re my safety in a storm.”
He reached for her hand and his fingers feathered over her wrist. Without a word, he pulled her into his room and, with his hand still gentle on her, he guided her to his bed. She slipped beneath the covers, and he followed her, stopping only long enough to turn out the light.
When he was in bed, she immediately rolled toward him. She put her head on his chest.
“I like to hear your heartbeat,” Macey murmured. “So steady and strong. Just like you.” Then she gave a faint sigh. “No matter what you might say to the contrary, I know the truth about you. I’ve always known it.”
His arm curled around her.
“Tomorrow will be better, won’t it?” Macey asked him.
“It will be better.” He would have given her any promise. Did she still not realize it? He’d make tomorrow better. For her. Anything, for her.
He held her as her breathing slowed. As she slipped into slumber. And only then did he close his own eyes.
It will be better.
* * *
JONAH RUSHED THROUGH the woods, tilting his head back as he stared up at the stars. He needed those fucking constellations right then. Because he had no clue where the hell he was. He’d escaped, and now he had to plan.
Plan, plan.
Because that little prick was going to come after him again.
I’ve got to stop him.
But first, first he had to stay alive.
His gaze frantically scanned the stars overhead. When he’d been a kid, his dad had told him all about the constellations.
Look at Orion’s Belt, son. See it up there? One of the brightest patterns in the sky. Alnilam, Mintaka and Alnitak. Those are the ones that gleam up there in his belt. Orion, see, he was a great hunter. So powerful. It’s important to be powerful, son. Because the weak...the weak will always be prey to everyone else.
Jonah’s body shook as he tried to banish his father’s voice from his head. He didn’t need those memories. Didn’t need the shit his father had tried to teach him.
He didn’t need any of it.
He looked down at his hands, and...for just a moment, he noticed...there’s blood on my hands.
He staggered back, then realized, the blood...right, right. It was just coming from his wrists. He’d stru
ggled against that rope for so long that his wrists had started bleeding. That was why he had blood there.
No other reason.
The weak will always be prey to everyone else.
He surged forward. He wasn’t weak. He’d proved that, over and over again. He’d get out of those woods. He’d find Macey. He’d stop the freak with the nails.
I’m. Not. Weak.
* * *
THE LIGHT WAS in her eyes, blinding her. Macey couldn’t see past that too bright light. She was strapped onto the operating room table, but it wasn’t the straps that held her immobile.
He’d drugged her.
“I could stare into your eyes forever.” His rumbling voice came from behind the light. “So unusual, but then, you realize just how special you are, right, Dr. Night?”
She couldn’t talk. He’d gagged her. They were in the basement of the hospital, in a wing that hadn’t been used for years. Or at least, she’d thought it hadn’t been used. She’d been wrong. About so many things.
“Red hair is always rare, but to find a redhead with heterochromia...it’s like I hit the jackpot.”
A tear leaked from her eye.
“Don’t worry. I’ve made sure that you will feel everything that happens to you. I just—well, the drugs were to make sure that you wouldn’t fight back. That’s all. Not to impair the experience for you. Fighting back just ruins everything. I know what I’m talking about, believe me.” He sighed. “I had a few patients early on—they were special like you. Well, not quite like you, but I think you get the idea. They fought and things got messy.”
A whimper sounded behind her gag because he’d just taken his scalpel and cut her on the left arm, a long, slow slice from her inner wrist all the way up to her elbow.
“How was that?” he asked her.
It hurt. She was in hell. And she was staring at the devil.
“I’ll start slowly, just so you know what’s going to happen.” He’d moved around the table, going to her right side now. “I keep my slices light at first. I like to see how the patient reacts to the pain stimulus.”
She wasn’t a patient. Nothing was wrong with her. She just wanted him to stop!
But he’d sliced her again. A mirror image of the wound he’d given to her before, a slice on her right arm that began at her inner wrist and slid all the way up to her elbow.
“Later, the slices will get deeper. I have a gift with the scalpel, haven’t you heard?” He laughed. He was laughing at her pain. Laughing at her horror. Laughing at her.
“Every time I work on a patient, I wonder...what is it like without the anesthesia?”
Sick freak.
“But not just any patient works for me. I need the special ones.” He moved toward her face and she knew he was going to slice her again. He lifted the scalpel and pressed it to her cheek.
The fingers on her right hand jerked.
“You and I are going to have so much fun, and those beautiful eyes of yours will show me everything that you feel.” He paused a moment. “I’ll be taking those eyes before I’m done.”
It was a dream. No, a memory. Macey knew that, but she couldn’t make herself wake up.
When he leaned forward once more, Macey realized that something was wrong with Daniel’s eyes.
There were nails in them.
“You never see the monster coming... You can’t see him, not until it’s too late.”
She shot up in bed, sucking in a deep breath.
“Macey?” Bowen’s arms wrapped around her. His touch was warm. “You okay?”
No, she was so incredibly far from okay. A glance at the clock on the bedside showed she’d been sleeping for three hours.
“Bad dream?” Bowen rasped.
“I was on his table again. But this time, I remembered something he’d said to me.” God. “He said he was going to take my eyes.”
“Macey...”
“I didn’t tell the cops that part.” There’d been so much else to tell them. “My eyes... God, when I was a kid, I hated that they were different. That I was so different. I wore contacts when I was a teenager, just like Gale Collins did, because I wanted to fit in with everyone else.”
“I think your eyes are beautiful.”
Her gaze jerked toward him, but she couldn’t see him clearly, not in the dark.
“To be honest, though, I’ve always thought everything about you was beautiful.”
Her heart warmed. “You never said anything. You made me come to you—”
“Because I knew you weren’t ready, and I would have rather been your friend, your partner, than fucking nothing at all.”
She could feel tears stinging her eyes. “Why? Why, Bowen? Why me?”
“Because you’re strong and you’re smart and when you got dealt one of the worst hands life can give you...Macey, you went out and tried to help other people. You didn’t run. You didn’t hide. You didn’t let the need for vengeance destroy you. You just—you got even stronger. Fuck, but I admired that.”
She hadn’t felt strong. She’d felt like a ghost, just trying to be alive again.
But Bowen had reminded her of all the things that were waiting in life. There wasn’t just pain out there.
Pleasure.
Hope.
Second chances.
Love?
She found her hands rising, curling around his jaw and she put her lips against his. She’d gone to his room not for sex, just for...for his touch. For his comfort. But right then, things were different.
And still...
It’s not about sex. We’re not just having sex.
She’d told him once that it was just fucking, and now Macey realized what a liar she’d been. It had never been that, had it?
Not for her...
Not for him?
Her tongue slid into his mouth. She kissed him slowly, and she savored him. His hands settled along her hips and he pulled her against him. He was still sitting up, and she straddled his legs. She could feel his cock growing against her as they kissed. The kiss became harder, stronger, and his hands rose up to stroke her breasts.
“Make love to me.” She’d whispered those words and she wouldn’t take them back. Love, not fucking. Love, not sex.
“Always, Mace,” he promised her, the nickname sounded like an endearment rolling from his tongue, and she had to blink away the tears that wanted to fill her eyes. The eyes he’d called beautiful.
His hands caressed her breasts, and her nipples were tight and aching for his touch. He kissed his way down her throat, stopping in those spots that he knew she liked. Down, down...and her breath panted out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she held on tight.
Her panties were getting wet. His cock—it was rock hard. She arched her hips and slid her sex over him, loving the friction but wanting so much more. Wanting him in her.
Wanting everything.
Wanting him.
His right hand trailed down her body. He slid his fingers beneath the hem of her panties and then he was thrusting them inside of her. Macey lifted up onto her knees, sucking in a sharp breath, as his fingers slid in and out of her. Her eyes squeezed shut. “I want you. All of you.”
His fingers slid out. She bit her bottom lip. Her body was bow tight, already on the edge and they’d just begun. But then...
She heard a rip in the darkness. He’d torn her panties and Macey almost wanted to laugh. But she couldn’t. The desire she felt was too intense. The need too raw.
She pushed his sweats out of the way and his cock surged toward her. Her fist closed around him, and Macey stroked his erect length. Once, twice, again and again, she pumped him.
“You’re driving me...out of my...mind...”
Good. That was how she wanted him. How she wanted to be.
“Need to get...protection,” Bowen growled.
“I’m clean. And there’s...no risk of pregnancy.” She couldn’t believe she was even saying those words. Couldn’t believe she was suggesting
that they—
“Macey.”
“This one time, I want you.” She needed this connection. Needed him.
“I’m clean,” he told her, his voice nearly guttural. “There is no risk with me.”
No, there wasn’t.
She eased higher onto her knees. His cock pushed against her, and then Macey arched down, taking him in deep. He filled her completely, and she moaned because he felt so good.
She wanted to savor him. To drive him wild.
Then she wanted the pleasure to rip through them both, destroying what had been. Leaving something new.
His hands were tight and hard on her waist as he lifted her up, then surged deep into her core. Again and again, he plunged into her, and the angle of his thrusts had his cock sliding right over her clit. Macey wanted to go slow. She wanted that savoring—
But the pleasure wasn’t stopping. She couldn’t hold back the maelstrom of release. She came around him, her whole body shaking as her sex spasmed. She cried out his name and her body shuddered.
Then she felt him come inside of her, a hot splash that just made her own pleasure so much more intense.
She kissed him, and this time, the kiss was different. Something...softer.
Something sweeter.
A connection was there, she could feel it between them.
A link that had bonded them.
Her heartbeat stopped thundering in her ears. She eased back down, moving to lay beside him. His arms curled around her.
And she knew, with utter certainty...
This is where I belong. With him.
* * *
HIS PHONE WAS RINGING. Bowen slowly turned his head and saw the phone vibrating as it slid across the top of the nightstand. His hand flew out and he grabbed the phone.
Four a.m. No way this call is good.
“Murphy,” he said, voice gruff. Beside him, Macey stirred in the bed.
“I need...help...”
Bowen sat up, fast.
“I’m...” A rough rasp of breath. “At the ranger station...only one here with me is Zack...D-Douglas...”
“Jonah?” Bowen snapped. “Is that you?”
“N-need help,” he rasped again. “Bastard...held me...tied up...no food...”
Macey jumped out of bed and flashed on the lights.