After the Dark

by Cynthia Eden

The bastard was going to kill him. Blake tensed, knowing he’d have only one chance—“Goodbye, Agent Gamble.”

  Samantha rolled to her side, grabbing Latham’s legs. Her arms locked around them, and she yanked, hard. He let out a sharp cry, falling back and slamming down beside her onto the deck.

  And in the next breath, Blake was on the bastard. He grabbed the gun and shoved it right between Latham’s eyes. “Have fun in hell,” Blake whispered.

  Latham’s eyes widened—and there was no missing the fear there.

  “Blake?” Samantha’s voice. Weak and worried. “Blake...you can’t...”

  And the fear eased from Latham’s gaze. His lips even started to curl into one of his taunting smiles. “That’s right, you can’t shoot me. Not like this. Not when I’m unarmed. It’s not what good agents do. And what will Samantha think of you? She’ll never look at you the same way. She’ll—”

  Fuck you, Latham. “I told her I was killing you long before we ever stepped foot on your damn boat.” Now it was his turn to smile at the bastard. “But a fast death would be too easy for you. After all you’ve done, all the lives you’ve destroyed, you have to pay first.”

  He heard the shriek of sirens in the distance. Was that Lewis, coming to the rescue? He’d been stationed near shore with a Coast Guard team at the ready. Sound traveled so easily on the water. Had they heard the gunshot? Decided to rush to the rescue? Or had Josh’s team radioed them when they’d gotten the blonde out of the water?

  “Going to torture me?” Latham taunted. “And here I didn’t think that was your style.”

  It’s not, but for you, I’d make an exception. “Hell for you,” Blake said quietly, “is going to be a cell. It’s going to be solitary confinement. It’s going to be you, locked away from everyone else for years. No more games, no more experiments...just a small cell. A cage that you’ll be trapped inside as you slowly rot away.”

  Then he heard the slosh of water. Blake glanced toward the ladder.

  Josh tossed his mask onto the deck. His breath panted out. “Hung on to the side...when this bitch took off...” He climbed forward, chest still shaking. “Thought you needed...backup.”

  He’d had backup. Even shot, nearly drowned, Samantha had been there to watch his back.

  “Samantha!” Latham’s voice. Sounding...lost. “What’s happening?”

  “You’re going away, Cam,” she whispered back. But her voice was filled with so much pain.

  Samantha?

  Josh rushed forward. He put his hands on her stomach. “She needs help.”

  “Sam?” Now even Latham was afraid.

  The bastard should be.

  If Samantha died, Blake would make sure every day of the man’s life was agony.

  * * *

  WHEN SAMANTHA OPENED her eyes, she was in a white hospital room. Sunlight poured through the window on the right, trailing over the bed, and on her left...

  Blake sat there, holding her hand.

  She stared at their linked hands a moment, remembering the night before. The water, the boat, the gunshot blast. She remembered floating in the water, not having the strength to kick up, and then...then she’d been in Blake’s arms.

  “You’re awake.” His voice was rough, a little ragged. “Are you in pain?”

  A little, but a little pain meant she was alive, so Samantha wasn’t about to complain. “Where is he?”

  Blake’s dark brows rose. “Latham? He’s currently enjoying the hospitality of a jail cell, one guarded by three FBI agents and half of Lewis’s men. They’re making sure that he doesn’t get away.” He leaned closer to her. His green eyes were turbulent, brimming with emotion. “You weren’t supposed to be hurt. You weren’t supposed to nearly die for me.”

  She swallowed. “It...was just a flesh wound.” She tried to smile at him. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  He didn’t smile back. “You nearly bled out before help could arrive. They had to airlift you here. You almost died out on that godforsaken boat.”

  She didn’t remember that part. She remembered being on the deck, seeing Josh climb up the ladder. Then he’d been pushing down on her wound, and the pain had been so intense that she’d blacked out. Or so she’d thought.

  “I don’t want you risking yourself for me, not ever again.”

  Samantha shook her head, moving it against the pillow. Can’t make that promise. “I realized...something...” At the bottom of that bay. “It wasn’t...my fault...that my father died.”

  “Baby?”

  “When you love someone...you want to keep them safe...it’s not a sacrifice.” Not even a little bit. No matter the pain. “It’s a...choice... It’s love.” He was her choice. Always had been. Always would be. “I love you.”

  He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Samantha, you own my soul. You have from the moment we met. But, please, I am begging you...don’t ever scare me like that again, okay? Next time, let the psychopath shoot me. Let him throw me overboard, let—”

  “We stopped...him?”

  Blake nodded.

  “Good.” There would be no more deaths on her conscience. No more new additions to her nightmares. “Now...what?”

  “Now you get better.” He pressed another kiss to her lips. “Now you get stronger. Now you get back to ass-kicking form.” Another kiss. “And when you do...you marry me.”

  What? That marriage bit hadn’t necessarily followed the order she’d expected.

  Gruffly, he said, “When you’re out of the hospital, I’ll do it right...down on one knee, flowers, candy, anything. I just want to be with you. I want to love you every single day of your life. I want to give you good memories, I want to make good memories with you. I want to show you that the world is more than the nightmares we have...that it can be so much more.”

  She already knew that. After all, she had him. “I’ll say yes—” her fingers squeezed his “—when you get around to asking right.”

  He smiled at her, a wide smile that lit up his gorgeous eyes. “I’ll make sure I remind you of that.”

  He would.

  Not that she’d need reminding. “Chocolate,” Samantha said, considering this for a moment. “When you ask...make sure I have chocolate on hand.”

  His smile slowly slipped away. “I will give you anything you want, always. Just make me one promise...”

  She stared into his eyes.

  “Don’t ever leave me.” She could hear his fear. “Cameron was wrong about you, baby. So wrong. There isn’t anything dark or tainted about you. You’re what’s good in the world. You are my world. And I need you. I need you to keep going. I need you to help keep me strong. I just...need you.”

  Just as she needed him.

  “I love you, Samantha Dark. I’ll always have your back. I’ll always be at your side.”

  And she believed him. She trusted him.

  Completely.

  “Partners for life?” she whispered.

  “Partners forever.” His lips took hers.

  EPILOGUE

  SAMANTHA’S HEELS CLICKED on the hard floor as she headed back to see the prisoner. A maximum security facility meant that she’d been searched, ID’d and triple checked until she was close to screaming.

  But...

  Procedures were procedures.

  The guard in front of her typed a code into the keypad and finally—finally—she was escorted to the room that waited. The prisoner was already seated, seated and cuffed to the table.

  “Hello, Cameron,” Samantha said, making sure to keep her voice mild. “You’re looking well.”

  He smiled at her. “Utter bullshit.” He glanced down at the orange jumpsuit. “I look horrible in this.”

  The black was gone from his hair. His tattoo—turned out it had b
een temporary henna ink—was long gone, too. Clever Cameron. That tattoo had actually hidden the scar she’d given him from their first battle, when she’d sliced at him with the letter opener. Since his arrest, he’d lost his extra weight, trimmed down, and were it not for that garish prison uniform...

  He would have looked just like his old self.

  “How do you feel?” Cameron asked her. His gaze swept over her, and there was more than a glint of concern in his stare. “All healed?”

  “From your attempt to kill me?” She tilted her head and considered that. “Yes, I’m good, thanks.”

  The guard watched them, standing just a few feet away.

  “You look very official,” Cameron announced. His fingers drummed against the table. “Back with the FBI?”

  “Um, yes...” She sat down in the chair across from him. “Bass was grateful to me. Turns out that people appreciate it when you save their lives.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “So he thought it would be...advantageous...to have me back at the FBI. At first, I wasn’t so sure about the idea.” She shrugged. “But then he told me that I could open my own unit, of sorts. You see, he wants me to help train a new breed of profilers there.”

  He lifted one brow. “Tell me more.”

  That’s why I’m here. “He thought my connection to you was a weakness. That because of our personal history, I couldn’t do my job right.”

  “But here I am...” He glanced around. “In fucking hell.”

  “Indeed.” She smiled at him and ignored the pang in her chest. “So that got me to thinking...and it got him to thinking...perhaps the personal connections that people have to killers, well, those connections aren’t a hindrance. They can be an advantage. They can show us more about how to think like a killer, how to capitalize on a killer’s weaknesses. How to bring down those killers...”

  He leaned back in his chair. “You were faking when Gamble brought you back on the boat. I thought you were dying, but you were—”

  “Using your emotions—the few you can actually feel—against you?” She nodded. “I was. Don’t get me wrong. I’d been shot and I’d swallowed a gallon of the bay, but I was still strong enough to get to you.” She stared straight at him. “And I did.”

  His jaw tightened. “What about the girl? I’ve been trying to puzzle that out—”

  She was sure that save had pissed him off. He’d planned so carefully. We planned better. “We had a team in the water—” under the water “—and when you tossed her overboard, they were there to make sure she survived.”

  He glanced away from her. “So that’s it? You’re here to tell me about your new job, to gloat because you won—”

  “It was never a game.” Her voice was soft now.

  Cameron looked back at her. “Wasn’t it?” He, too, had lowered his voice. As if the place weren’t full of cameras and audio equipment—sophisticated equipment that would pick up every word they said.

  “We found the real Brock Chambers.” Another death. “His body—or rather, what was left of it—washed ashore in Key West.”

  Cameron smiled. “Guy had a real great boat. Just couldn’t help myself.”

  She didn’t smile back. “I think you could have, Cam. That’s what hurts me the most. I think, all along, that you could have stopped yourself. You said it was about me. About losing me, but I wasn’t what held you in check all of those years.”

  His lashes lowered. “Yes, you were.” And the arrogance was gone from his voice. “I always felt the hunger inside of me. I could feel it growing every single day. I thought...if I learned more, if I studied more, I could figure it out. I could stop it. I could beat it.”

  She waited.

  “Then I met you.” He looked up. “You made me...not feel like the freak in the room. You looked at me as if I were normal. I wanted to be normal.”

  “You didn’t kill anyone for years. You made it all that time—”

  “Everyone has a trigger.” He rolled back his shoulders. “You were mine.” His gaze swept over her face. “Did you think he was going to kill me?”

  Blake.

  She didn’t answer.

  His lips twisted. “Would you have still loved him if he did?”

  “Yes.” That truth, she would give to him.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You have him fooled, don’t you? You have them all fooled. They think you’re so good, but the truth is...you were always just like me.”

  And that was why she’d come. Why she’d needed this last visit with him. Before she started working on Bass’s new profile unit, she’d had to look at the mirror of herself and see if what Cameron said was true.

  A personal link to a sadistic killer...could anyone touched by that darkness live with the taint?

  Could you go on, have a normal life...be strong? Be happy?

  She looked into his eyes. The friend she’d known...it was as if they were meeting for a little catch-up lunch. Friend, lover, killer.

  “Goodbye, Cameron.” Now she was sad. Samantha stood.

  “That’s it?” He shot to his feet, too, but the cuffs didn’t let him go far.

  The guard tensed.

  “You gave me a confession for the murder of Brock Chambers. I needed that.”

  A growl built in his throat.

  “And you let me look in the mirror one last time.” He’d been her mirror, and she’d seen the truth. “I’m not you. I’m not bent or twisted, and there is no trigger that is going to push me over some edge.” She smiled at him. A real smile. “I’m going to stop killers like you. I’m going to stop the ones that want to cause nightmares and pain. And I’m going to use the ones they love to do it. Every killer has a weakness. I’ll find them. I’ll use them. And then the monsters out there...” Samantha straightened her spine and lifted her chin with determination. “They’ll eventually wind up in a place like this, just like you.” She nodded toward the guard. “Thank you, I’m done.”

  She walked away.

  “Samantha!”

  It felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Samantha!”

  She didn’t even have to look back. She’d made her choice.

  She didn’t need to look into a broken mirror any longer.

  * * *

  HE WAS WAITING for her outside. Waiting in the sunlight. When he saw her, Blake hurried forward. “You okay?”

  She smiled at him. For him. “I’m better than okay.”

  She was free. Free to love, free to be happy, free to live her life in the light.

  She rose onto her toes and kissed Blake.

  Her partner, her friend...

  Her lover.

  A man she could trust completely. A man she could love—completely.

  Without any fear of ever sliding into the dark.

  * * * * *

  THE GATHERING DUSK

  There are so many people that I need to thank for this book.

  For Nick—thank you for walking with me along the beach of Fairhope as I plotted my story and got into the mindset of a killer. Thanks for going with me as I searched for the perfect spot to dump a body...as if that is just a normal activity for us.

  For Joan—thank you for the catches on my story. Thank you for always having such a keen eye and for understanding romantic suspense so well.

  For Jack—thank you for your patience. You know that your mom often gets lost in her own mind, and you know exactly how and when to pull me back to reality.

  For Denise and Kayla—thank you for your editorial insight! It is a pleasure working with you both. I know that you help to make my writing stronger.

  And, finally, for my readers—thank you for going on this journey into the dark with me.

&n
bsp; Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EXCERPT FROM ABDUCTION BY CYNTHIA EDEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  SAMANTHA DARK DIDN’T let her fear show. In her job, there wasn’t supposed to be any room for fear. FBI agents were tough and strong and they got the job done—no matter the circumstances. They didn’t let nausea twist in their stomachs. They didn’t let doubt bloom in their minds.

  An FBI agent didn’t hold a weapon with too tight a grip with a pounding heart.

  But I am.

  Samantha tried to steady herself. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Her eyes never left the house nestled so perfectly on the little cul-de-sac. The house with the tall, swaying pine trees in the front yard. The house that had all the blinds pulled down to cover every single window.

  It’s just a house. Just a house on a street.

  “You ready, Samantha?’

  At the deep, rumbling voice, Samantha gave a nod. Her new partner, Blake Gamble, was right at her side. He didn’t seem scared, didn’t seem to be filled with reservation and apprehension—but then, from what she could tell, Blake didn’t have room for those kinds of emotions.

  She tore her gaze from the house just long enough to send an assessing glance his way. Blake was tall, about six foot two—maybe three inches—and muscled. His wide shoulders told her that he might have played football back in the day, and his hard strength assured Samantha that her new partner worked out far more than the FBI required.

  He was handsome, in a rough, rugged way. Square jaw, high cheeks, sensually curved lips...and the greenest eyes that she’d ever seen. Those green eyes were a sharp contrast to his dark, almost perfectly arranged black hair.

  Tall, dark and dangerous. Only, Blake wasn’t the bad guy...he was the good guy. The real true-blue sort. The kind of a guy that a person could count on... The kind of partner you need at your side when you’re worried the situation is about to go straight to hell.