Watch Me

by Cynthia Eden

  Yes, the bastard had.

  “Lex Jensen made me wonder…” Sophie stopped talking and glanced out of her window.

  “Soph?”

  “He works with Chance. He, um, stopped me at the station.”

  Ethan waited, wondering where this was going.

  “I was never targeted.”

  “That’s a fucking good thing.” He brought her hand to his lips. Pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Because without you, I’d go insane.”

  She glanced back at him, a faint smile curving her lips. “How do you think I’d be without you? You’ve been my rock for all of these years.”

  “I’ll always be here for you.”

  Sophie nodded. Her dark hair was pulled back and her eyes—they seemed even bigger without the thick tumble of her hair falling near her heart-shaped face. Bigger, but…sad?

  “It’s going to be all right,” Ethan told her. How many times had he said those words or something similar to Sophie over the years? “We’re going to find him. We’re going to stop him.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  Unfortunately, he had.

  Exhaling slowly, he looked toward the front of the vehicle. Daniel turned the car to the left, not saying a word to them, and they headed for Sophie’s home.

  Chapter Eleven

  The elevator doors opened and Gwen stepped out into the lush hotel lobby. Plenty of people were buzzing in that space—guests checking out, bell hops carrying luggage.

  And Dev was there, standing in the middle of the lobby, staring right at her and Chance. Dev’s face appeared grim. Dark circles were under his eyes and a serious five o’clock shadow lined his jaw.

  “We’ve got a problem,” he said as they approached him.

  Another one? Gwen was really over any new problems. She had more than enough to deal with as it was—

  “Marjorie West is dead.”

  Gwen stilled.

  “Ethan gave her a new identity and sent her to Europe, yeah, that part of his little story was true, but the woman sure as hell didn’t get away scot free.” Dev rolled back his shoulders. “I kept digging until I found out what became of her. It took a while and some serious string pulling…but an unknown female was killed by a hit and run driver in Paris, four months after Marjorie supposedly started her new life.”

  “You don’t know that it was her,” Gwen said. “You can’t know, you can’t—”

  “I compared that victim’s dental records with Marjorie’s. They were a match.”

  She could only stare blankly at him.

  “You don’t want to know the connections he has,” Chance said, his voice rough. “Or the laws that he probably broke to make that match.”

  Dev cleared his throat. “Laws were bent, not broken. There’s a difference.” Then he shook his head. “Based on the police reports for that accident…”

  She was too numb to be surprised that he’d accessed French police records.

  “The hit and run scene went down much like the recent one with Gwen here. The driver was waiting on the side of the street, waiting for his moment to strike. Witnesses said he didn’t slow down, that he deliberately accelerated when he aimed for his prey. He swerved to hit her, and when she went down, he roared away.”

  He. “So it is a man. It’s not Sophie.” Gwen had spoken to Sophie Sarantos at dozens of charity functions over the years. She’d…liked the other woman. Sure, Sophie could be a little withdrawn, but she was nice. Dedicated. She cared about helping victims of domestic abuse, and Gwen had worked with her on a special domestic violence prevention fundraiser at the gallery just last spring. They’d raised over fifty thousand dollars at that event, and Sophie had been crying at the end of the night. Silent tears that she’d swiped away before she thought anyone saw them.

  I saw them.

  When she’d overheard Lex talking about Sophie, Gwen’s first instinct had been denial because well…

  Sophie seems too nice.

  But she knew appearances could be deceiving.

  “Actually…” Dev winced. “I don’t know the driver’s sex. The windows were tinted, so no one got a good look at the driver. The perp could have been a man…or a woman. But what I do know is this…whoever we’re looking for, the perp doesn’t let his prey get away from him. If he tracked Marjorie all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, that should sure as hell tell us something. He doesn’t give up. He doesn’t stop.”

  Not until his prey is dead.

  “That does tell us something.” Chance took Gwen’s hand. “Ethan said that only he and Sophie knew where Marjorie had gone. If it was just the two of them—and Marjorie wound up dead—then one of them killed her.”

  Sophie or Ethan.

  “Lex needs to move in on Sophie,” Chance said. “And I’m going to have another little chat with Ethan. One that doesn’t involve the cops.”

  Gwen shook her head. “No, that isn’t a good plan. You can’t—”

  He turned toward her. “He was choosing every word he said in that police station. He knew the cops were watching. Knew that every word he said was being monitored. The guy wasn’t going to screw up there.”

  “Chance—”

  He kissed her. A quick, hot, open-mouthed kiss. “I’d do anything for you.” His words were low and she was aware of Dev easing back a step. “I’d fight for you, lie, hell, I’d kill without a second’s hesitation.”

  She grabbed his arms. Held tight. “I don’t want you killing for me.”

  “You’re what matters to me.” He searched her eyes. “I need you to know that. I fucked up before, but I won’t ever do it again. I…I love you, Gwen.”

  No, no, he had not just said—

  “I want to end this nightmare. I don’t want a threat hanging over you. I don’t want you looking over your shoulder every time you go out.”

  Gwen couldn’t look away from him.

  “I want you safe. I need you to be safe. And when this is all over…” He drew in a ragged breath. “If you…if you want, we could go forward. See if we can make it together. Because I want to be with you.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Dev take another step back.

  “Maybe I’ve screwed up too much,” Chance muttered, “and—”

  Now she was the one to stand on her toes. To brush her lips against his. “We are going forward.” Nothing would stop them. Because he wasn’t the only one who’d fight…she’d fight for him. Lie. Kill. Did he think he was the only one who’d be pushed to the edge—and beyond?

  He smiled at her. When he smiled, the man was absolutely gorgeous.

  I love him.

  “No more fear,” Gwen said. Sophie or Ethan. “Let’s see where this ends.” Ended…for the stalker.

  But for her and Chance—things will begin.

  Chance pulled out his phone. Got Lex on the line. She heard him updating the other man, telling him to close in on Sophie.

  Then Chance put the phone down. He stared into Gwen’s eyes. “This isn’t going to be easy. To get the truth, I’ll have to play dirty.”

  So will I. She wasn’t going to flinch away from what was coming. Two women were dead, and Gwen wouldn’t be next.

  She had far too much to live for.

  ***

  Lex stared up the brownstone. Sophie’s home. She’d gone in an hour before, right after Ethan had dropped her off. Lex had watched as Ethan walked Sophie to the door, as he’d pressed a light kiss to her cheek.

  Then he’d left her. Sophie had been inside since then. Plenty of cars had gone up and down the street, but Sophie hadn’t stirred again.

  He crossed the street. More snow had fallen during the night, and when he reached the sidewalk, the snow crunched lightly beneath his feet. He climbed the steps leading to her place. The cold air chilled his lungs. Lex pressed the doorbell…and waited.

  Nothing.

  He pressed his finger against the doorbell again. Still no response.

  Leaning back, he pee
red through the window on the right. All of the lights were out in her house. Everything seemed so quiet. Empty.

  But…he’d seen Sophie go inside. She had to still be there.

  Unless she slipped away. Unless she slipped right by me and I didn’t even realize it.

  But—

  Hell, no. He was too good for that.

  Wasn’t he?

  Lex pounded on the door. “Sophie! Sophie, open up! It’s Lex Jensen. I need to talk to you!”

  ***

  Chance parked in front of Wicked. The club looked shut down. They’d already stopped by Ethan’s home, but the door man there had sworn that Ethan wasn’t in the building.

  Since Ethan’s home-away-from-home was Wicked, Chance had headed there.

  A car was parked out front and when Chance walked by it, he pressed his hand to the hood. Still warm.

  Chance strode to the main door. Gwen was at his side. He grabbed for the handle. Locked. So Chance pounded on the door. No answer.

  But the car is still warm…so I know he’s inside.

  “I’ll go around back,” Dev said, inclining his head. “That way, we can make sure we’ve got both doors covered.”

  Chance nodded. They would be getting inside to Ethan. One way or another.

  Dev hurried away.

  Chance looked over at Gwen. She had her phone out. “Who are you—”

  The front door opened. He recognized the man standing there. It was the redheaded guy he’d met the first time he and Gwen had come to Wicked for the fucked-up, sit-down with Ethan. The man glanced nervously over his shoulder, then looked at Gwen. “You need to leave,” he said.

  Chance stepped in front of Gwen. “We need to see Ethan.”

  “Daniel, please,” Gwen said. “We have to get in there. This has to end.”

  Daniel licked his lips. “It’s not safe. I-I heard him talking. He…he’s not right.” He eased toward them. “Take her and go.”

  Chance’s body tensed. “What did you hear?”

  “I was driving him…and Sophie. He was so careful with Sophie, but...” Again, he inched closer to them. The guy’s hands were shaking. “After he left her, he lost it.” His voice was a low whisper. “He came back here, and he’s been wrecking the place.”

  Chance heard a crash from inside the building.

  Gwen gasped.

  “He’s dangerous…” Daniel’s eyes were wide. “I think…I think he wants to kill Gwen. You have to get her out of here.”

  ***

  Sophie wasn’t answering her door. No sound at all was coming from inside her place. That shit couldn’t be good.

  Lex hurried down the steps and stalked around the side of the brownstone. He hadn’t gone far when he saw the footprints. The tracks were so clear in the snow—leading to the window, then leading away. More snow was expected to hit at any time, so soon those footprints would be covered, but for the moment…

  Someone went into Sophie’s house.

  He rushed to that window, leaving his own trail in the snow. The footprints he passed were big—heavy treads left from boots. The latch on the window was broken, and Lex shoved it up. “Sophie!” As soon as he opened that window, the scent of gas hit him. Bitter, like rotten eggs. “Fuck, Sophie!’ He leapt through that window and rushed into the house. A chair was overturned in her den. A lamp smashed. And Sophie was there, crumpled on the floor like a broken doll. The shattered lamp was near her shoulder and blood from a deep gash on her head had dripped onto the carpet.

  “Sophie!” He checked for her pulse. Weak, but still there. “I’m getting you out of here. You’re going to be okay.” He hoped.

  Lex lifted her into his arms, held her carefully, and moved as fast as he could for the door. That smell was overwhelming now, and he knew that whoever had knocked her out…the bastard had deliberately left a gas leak at her house.

  She could have asphyxiated in there. Or maybe the killer had planned to leave her in the house for a while, trapped, helpless, and then…he could have come back and with the flick of a match—

  Boom.

  He rushed through the front door and took her out of that house. Lex didn’t want to take any chances—if that brownstone blew, they needed to be far away from it. He rushed across the street, with Sophie still in his arms. She started to stir when they reached the other side. Her eyelashes flickered, then lifted.

  “E-Ethan…?”

  “It’s Lex.” He wanted to beat the hell out of Ethan. “It’s all right. Ethan isn’t going to hurt you again. I won’t let him.” She was so delicate. Felt so fragile in his arms.

  Sophie began to struggle in his arms. Tremors shook her and she said, “E-Ethan…Ethan…E-Ethan…” She was chanting his name again and again, and Lex lowered her to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could, and he called nine-one-one. When the dispatcher came on the line, he told her to get an ambulance and cops to Sophie’s address, as fast as they damn well could. And he asked for Detective Faith Chestang. Because she needed to know what was happening.

  The next call he made was to Chance. Still holding tightly to Sophie, he had the phone at his ear. Sophie was whispering Ethan’s name as the phone rang. Once. Twice—

  ***

  When his phone rang, Chance yanked it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Lex. He answered immediately even as he turned to face Gwen. “Lex, look, we’ve got a problem with Ethan—”

  “He just tried to kill Sophie!” Lex’s voice snarled. “I had to carry her out of her home. He knocked her out, turned on her gas…shit, she’s bad.”

  Gwen’s eyes were full of worry as she stared at Chance.

  “All she’ll say,” Lex continued grimly, “is the bastard’s name. Over and over and—”

  The worry in Gwen’s gaze gave way to stark terror. Only she wasn’t staring straight at Chance. She was looking over his shoulder.

  “Chance, behind you!” Gwen screamed. She shoved against him, trying to knock him out of the way.

  And that was when the gunshot rang out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gwen tried to push Chance out of the way, but he twisted his body, protecting her—damn him!—and the bullet slammed into him.

  Chance didn’t go down, though. “Run,” he told Gwen and he pushed her away. “Go!”

  He spun toward the attacker—Daniel—and she saw Chance pulling out his own weapon. He’d grabbed it from his vehicle when they’d first approached Wicked, but he’d holstered the weapon beneath his jacket. Now it was taking too long for him to get that weapon out and—

  Daniel fired again. The bullet drove into Chance’s stomach.

  “No!” Gwen screamed. She lunged forward when Chance slumped to the ground. She grabbed for him and his blood covered her hands. “Chance, no!”

  “Move away from him.” Daniel’s voice was too high, cracking with…excitement?

  Gwen put her hand over Chance’s wound. The gun had fallen from his hand when he’d slumped down. His eyes were closed but…

  He’s alive.

  “I’m not moving,” Gwen said. Dev was close by. He would’ve heard the shot. He’d be coming to help them any moment.

  “Then I’ll shoot you right here.”

  She glared up at Daniel. He had his gun aimed right at her head.

  “And after you’re dead, I’ll put a bullet in Chance Valentine’s heart. He might be able to survive the injuries he has so far…but a bullet to the heart?” He laughed. “Dead fucking man.”

  Gwen pressed down harder, trying to stop that blood flow.

  “Come inside with me, and I’ll leave him. Give him a fifty-fifty shot of survival.” Daniel’s lips twisted in a cold grin. “I never cared about him. He doesn’t matter. You matter. Ethan matters.”

  Her body was numb with cold.

  “Move now, or I will kill him.”

  Her fingers slid away from Chance. I love you. He knew that, didn’t he? He had to know, he had to—

&
nbsp; Chance’s eyes opened. “Gwen, no.” He reached for her.

  But Daniel yanked Gwen to her feet. He locked one arm around her neck and put the gun to her head.

  Chance struggled to rise. To reach for the gun that had slipped from his fingers.

  Daniel kicked the weapon out of Chance’s reach.

  “You know…” Daniel’s voice actually sounded as if he were considering the situation. “I think she loved you, Valentine. Enough to die for you. Lucky sonofabitch.” Then he hauled Gwen back, pulling her inside of Wicked.

  Chance tried to crawl after them. “Gwen!”

  “I love you,” she whispered. Daniel’s hold was too strong. She was clawing at his arm, but she couldn’t break free.

  He dragged her across the threshold then slammed the door shut and locked them inside Wicked.

  “Ethan’s waiting for you,” he said, his breath blowing against her ear. “Come on…this has been such a long fucking time coming.” He was hauling her across the floor.

  She kicked back at him, trying to do as much damage to him as she could. Chance was safe—for the moment. Now she had to survive. She had to stop Daniel. She had to—

  They were now in front of the bar in Wicked. Ethan was there. Tied to a chair. Thick ropes were around his chest, his arms, and his legs. A gag had been shoved over his mouth and tied in place. Ethan’s head sagged forward, but she could see the blood sliding down his cheeks. He appeared to have been slashed across the face—one deep slash slid across his left cheek and one streaked across his right.

  Blood also soaked his shirt. Stabbed. From the look of things, he’d been stabbed again and again…

  A table had overturned next to him, and she remembered the crash she’d heard when she and Chance had been outside Wicked, when Daniel had been feeding them that line of bull about Ethan wrecking the place in a fury. Now she realized that Ethan must have managed to push over that table. He’d probably been trying to alert them, to get help—

  It’s too late for help now.

  A low whimper slipped from her because of the obvious abuse Ethan had endured.

  “Not so handsome anymore, is he?” Daniel asked. “Not the fucking perfect son anymore.”