The hunt had only begun.
Chapter Thirteen
The more she swallowed around the gag in her mouth, the drier her throat seemed to get. Kate pulled at her wrists but only managed to tighten the rope around her neck. The last thing she remembered before waking up hog-tied to this chair...
The SUV had died on the way to her meeting with Dominic. Her abductor had been in the back seat the entire time.
She blinked against the brightness of the single bare bulb above her head. He’d drugged her, and she couldn’t remember anything after that. Not how he’d gotten her here. Not where they were.
Studying the medium-size cabin, she memorized the layout. She’d been placed with her back to the door at one end of the main room, a table straight ahead holding a crossbow a few feet away. Exposed roof slats, cobwebs, wood-burning stove, old furniture covered in nothing but dust. Shelves lined with food cans showed their age. Nobody had lived here in a long time.
Which meant nobody would have reason to look for her here either.
Heavy footfalls shook the hardwood floor beneath her, then a gust of wind burst through the front door as it swung open. Speckles of dust clouded the air around her. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much sedative.”
That voice. His voice. The man who’d taken her.
Nausea churned in her gut as the door slammed shut. As far as she could tell, there was one way in and one way out. She’d have to go through him to get to it.
Kate twisted her head as far to one side as she could, but the rope around her throat only cut off her air supply further. A shiver chased up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck as he moved into her peripheral vision. The fabric gag had gone soggy in her mouth, impossible to move. She forced herself to breathe evenly, to study him. To find his weakness. Because she wasn’t going to die in here. She tugged at her wrists again when the gag suppressed her question. Where was Declan?
“Promise not to scream?” The Hunter crouched low on his haunches in front of her, like the predator he was, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The evidence suggested Special Agent Kenneth Winter had worked all four of the missing persons cases the Hunter’s victims were tied to. He’d taken those women, seduced them and set them free in the wilderness before he started his hunt. The man had been in her office, gotten to know her when she and Dominic had met to discuss cases. Had it all been a means to an end? A way to get close to her?
He reached toward her, and she jerked away. “Up to you, Kate.”
A groan escaped up her throat as the rope burned across the delicate skin over her neck and wrists. She wouldn’t scream, but she’d do far, far worse when she got free of these ropes. The psychopath in front of her had killed four innocent women that she knew of as well as Michaels. Her former patient had been a pawn in his sick game. She wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
She had to focus, had to plan. The predator in front of her matched Agent Winter’s build, same low tone when he spoke, same dark eyes. This was the man who’d thrown her in that pit and hung Declan from his feet to die.
The Hunter had stayed one step ahead of her and the FBI this entire investigation, but there was a reason Sullivan had handpicked her to profile killers for his team. Kate had the ability to know exactly what they wanted. Nine times out of ten it was simply control—over their victims, over their emotions, over their own traumatic pasts. But this one... He wanted to prove himself. Prove he could beat her.
With her attention on that damn ski mask and the slight bulge of the voice distorter over his neck, she wrapped her fingers into fists. And nodded.
“That’s my girl.” He raised his hand again, the brush of his coarse knuckles against her cheek nauseating. The tang of cologne worked deep into her system, and her nostrils burned. Too sharp. Nothing like Declan’s subtle, masculine scent. Her bottom lip rolled with the gag as he slid the soaked rag beneath her chin.
She needed him closer. Mouthing her question, she closed her eyes as though she were still affected by the drugs, and he leaned in slightly. Another inch, and she’d get her shot at knocking him out cold. The overhead light reflected off the blade holstered to his hip, but until she had her hands freed, it wouldn’t do her a damn bit of good. There had to be something else she could use to cut through the rope.
“You know, I’ve studied you, Kate. I’ve gotten to know you over these past few months. I know your routines, the way you profile your targets, watched you grieve after losing your husband.” The Hunter closed the small space between them as heat built in her chest. “Do you really think headbutting me is going to give you an advantage?”
“I wasn’t going to headbutt you.” Shoving down through her toes, she pushed herself and the chair off the hardwood floor and launched herself straight into him. They landed in a heap on the floor, but the wooden chair she’d been tied to didn’t even splinter. She hit the floor hard, landing on her side. Panic flared as he stood and took position above her, one foot pressed against her shin bone tied to the chair.
Pain screamed up her leg and down into her toes, but she had to find something—anything—to cut through the ropes while she had the chance. Her fingers splayed out, grasping into thin air, desperate for contact. All she needed—
“A few more pounds of pressure is all it would take to break your leg, Kate, but I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to. So, please, don’t give me a reason.” A deep, evil laugh penetrated the ski mask as he wrenched her upright. Fisting one length of rope, he leveled his face with hers and pulled until the coarse strands cut into her. “You know why I killed them, don’t you? All those women.”
“Me...” She struggled to breathe. She couldn’t push the air out her mouth fast enough. Her dull rasping reached her ears. A wave of dizziness washed through her head, and all she could think about in that moment was her own survival.
And Declan. He’d lied to her, made her believe he was someone he wasn’t, but every cell in her body screamed for him right now. She’d trusted him. Hell, she’d fallen for him, and she didn’t want their conversation to be the last thing she ever said to him. Because when it came right down to it, he’d been the one to pull her from the soul-sucking agony of grief, to make her feel again, to care. He’d taken a bullet for her, rescued her from the bottom of that pit when she believed nobody would find her. Loved her when she was at her darkest. And she loved him, too. “To beat...me.”
“No, Kate.” Another laugh pooled dread at the base of her spine. He loosened his grip on the rope, and she was able to take her first full breath since slamming him to the floor. Grabbing the ski mask at the crown of his head, the Hunter pulled the fabric from his face. He peeled the voice distorter from his throat. “I killed them to show you I’m the one who can protect you from the monsters out there in the world. Not Declan. Not Blackhawk Security or your team. Me.”
No longer framed by the ski mask, familiar brown eyes stared back at her. Confusion tore through her. No. It wasn’t possible. The sedative had to still be in her system. It was messing with her head, making her hallucinate. There was no way he’d been behind all those attacks. “Ryan.”
“Surprise.” The small mole on the left side of his chin shifted with a smile, but where she’d been comforted by that smile in the past, only fear built in her gut now. “Gotta tell you, Kate, feels good finally letting you in on the truth. Now we can start fresh.”
“You sent Michaels to the house.” She licked her dry lips. The pieces were slowly falling into place as the sedatives burned off. She had to keep him talking. Long enough for her to form a new plan. “You made him obsessed with me to the point he’d kill Declan. Then you sent him again when you discovered Declan was alive all this time.” She didn’t understand. “You were my friend. You helped me through my grief, you were—”
“I was there for you, Kate. For over a year whi
le you grieved. Then I discovered my former partner—a man who was supposed to be dead, by the way—had been walking around the city without a damn clue who he was, but I knew. I knew he’d make his way back to you and destroy all of the progress I’d made.”
His voice rose. “I was the one who checked in on you every night after work. I was the one who brought you takeout when you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. I was the one who convinced you to go back to work, to take off that damn wedding ring, to put yourself first for once. Me. Not him.”
Dominic straightened, turning toward the old woodstove, the butt of his knife within reaching distance. He took a deep breath. If she could only get her hands free...
“You know, I was so nervous when I saw Declan in your office a few days ago, I almost drew my weapon and finished the job right then and there.” Glancing back at her, the special agent tossed the mask and distorter into the burning stove. “See, he suspected me back before that first shooting. I could tell. It was this look he gave me during one of our other serial cases, the kind that said he’d figured out what I like to do in my spare time, and I couldn’t afford him interrupting my plans for you. Turns out, I didn’t need to worry. Declan can’t remember anything, and that leaves us all the time in world.”
For what?
“You found the women through missing persons cases you and your partner worked,” Kate said. “You got close to them, seduced them. Then you set them free in the woods and hunted them down like animals.” The last word sneered from her mouth. Kate tugged at her wrists, careful not to pull too hard to engage the rope around her neck. Was that the rope loosening? Her teeth clenched against the groan working up her throat as the burns around her wrists protested with each movement. “You’re a coward. That’s why you brought in Michaels to do your dirty work, isn’t it? You were too afraid to confront Declan on your own.”
“You’re trying to make me angry. Maybe hoping I’ll lash out and knock you over so you can search for something to cut through your ropes,” he said. “It’s very clever, but you’ve already forgotten, I know your strategies, Kate. I know you. And I’ve waited too long for this to spoil all the fun in one night.”
“What about Special Agent Winter?” Kate felt the rope give, and she struggled to worm one hand free. Progress. “You set him up to take the fall, didn’t you? Just another pawn in your game.”
“It’s true Kenneth worked all of those cases, but what the official reports don’t say is that we worked them as a team. I suggested he take the lead to get his shot at a nice promotion while I scouted for my next target. Win-win. You have no idea how many cases I had to dredge through to find witnesses who looked like you, because let’s be honest, you’re one of a kind.”
Dominic hefted the large crossbow from a table to her right and loaded a bolt. He ran his fingers down the shaft. “Whether you realize it or not, Kate, our fates are intertwined. Ever since I first met you, I knew I had to have you for myself. I’ve got plans for you.”
He lowered the barrel of the crossbow into his other hand and aimed at the floor as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not about to spoil any more surprises.”
* * *
CARE TO MAKE a bet, Monroe?
What the hell had the bastard been talking about? A bet?
Sweat dripped down Declan’s spine as he wound through the trees. The ATV’s tracks left lighter impressions here, the ground harder with the frost, but he wouldn’t give up. He wouldn’t slow down. Not until Kate was safe. Exhaustion pulled at him, his breath heavier than a few minutes ago. Those words echoed through his head over and over.
The tracks disappeared in the thick of fallen foliage.
Damn it. Scanning the surrounding area, he searched for a spot they might pick up. Twenty feet out. Thirty. The ground had frozen solid. He was searching for a needle in a haystack now, in the dark. The howls of a nearby wolf pack shot his instincts into overdrive, and he tightened his grip on the gun. Sliding his hand over his wound, he exhaled hard at the feel of wet gauze and fabric. “Yeah. That looks about right.”
Blood.
The wolves had probably smelled him a mile away, mistaking him for an injured animal. They weren’t wrong. Hell, he barely had the energy to keep himself standing as dropping temperatures stole his body heat. The chances of a wolf attack were slim, but the addition of his wound didn’t help. He had a higher chance of freezing to death at this rate, but he’d keep moving.
Serial killers are like wolves, Monroe. They’ll go to elaborate lengths to get what they want, but they’ll never die for their cause.
Declan slowed as recognition flared at the voice in his head. Special Agent Ryan Dominic. Right. They’d been partners before he’d lost his memory.
Crystalized puffs of air formed in front of his mouth, and he curled the fingers of his free hand to hold on to as much heat as he could. A quick flash of memory streaked like lightning across his mind.
Him and Dominic looking at a whiteboard covered in photos and evidence. A murder board. Five victim photos had been taped to the surface, lines connecting the dots between the pictured women. They’d been hunting another serial killer then. What was the moniker they’d given him?
Declan rubbed at his eyes as a dull pain filled his skull.
The Alaskan Logger. Their unsub had taken to copycatting the Anchorage Lumberjack, who was later revealed to have been killed by his son, Sullivan Bishop, aka Sebastian Warren, the founder and CEO of Blackhawk Security, of all people.
The Alaskan Logger had taken five women who’d rejected his advances, killing them with the ax he’d worked the land with, as the Lumberjack had. Declan and Dominic were closing in on the Logger’s identity when the unsub went cold.
Care to make a bet, Monroe? I’ll give you five to one odds the Logger isn’t finished, Dominic had said. Come on, we’ll make a game of it.
Declan snapped his head up, not really seeing the trees around him. Son of a bitch. Dominic. Reaching for the burner he’d stashed in his pocket, he dialed Blackhawk’s main number. The line rang once. And again.
His heart threatened to pound straight out of his chest as more memories rushed forward from the darkness locked inside his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shut his eyes tight against the pain, but the fragments kept coming. A growl ripped up his throat.
He and Dominic on the office’s annual hunting trip. His partner’s favored crossbow. The file Declan had started building when the first two women had been discovered shot through the heart with an arrow. Declan had connected the dots mere hours before Michaels had shot up his house. He’d found evidence. He just couldn’t remember what it had been.
Another memory slipped into his mind, cutting through the violence, and the breath left his lungs. A positive pregnancy test. Kate’s smile as she bounded into his arms with the news. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist and crushed her mouth to his right there in the middle of their living room.
Declan blinked against the burn in his eyes. Warmth spread through him, combating the freezing cold around him. He wiped the back of his hand beneath his nose. He would’ve been a father if Kate hadn’t been shot.
Every minute wasted was another minute the chances of Kate returning home alive dropped, and he couldn’t handle the thought of finding her out here, alone, with an arrow through her chest.
A soft click registered over the phone, and he said, “Put me through to Elizabeth Dawson. Now.”
He should’ve seen it sooner. Taking Kate off the case, sending her the surveillance photos, setting the meeting. It was all part of Dominic’s plan to get her alone. Isolated. To take her from Declan. Hell, he should’ve trusted his instincts the first time the bastard walked into Kate’s office.
“Dawson,” a familiar voice said.
A small wave of relief flooded him. “Elizabeth, it’s Declan.”
“Wh
ere are you? Kate’s vehicle is here down the road from Vincent’s cabin, but we can’t find her anywhere.” Fear laced the network expert’s voice. “There’s a syringe, her phone is here on the side of the road, we’ve got two sets of footprints and the engine’s been tampered with. What is going on?”
“The Hunter is Dominic. He took her. I can’t go into how I know. I need you to trust me. I’m going to get her back.” His lungs spasmed from the cold. He had to believe that. The alternative... Declan shook his head. No. There was no alternative. He loved her, damn it. He needed her, and there was no way in hell he’d give up on them. They’d been through too much together, and he wasn’t ready to let her go. Wasn’t ready to let the history between them go. “I need you to work your magic and tell me where he is.”
“The FBI agent working the Hunter case is the killer? Give me a second.” Static crackled across the line, then a hard thump as though Elizabeth had set the phone down. “You’re on speaker. I’ve got Anthony and Elliot with me, too.”
“Good. He has no reason to suspect we know his real identity so there’s a chance he has his Bureau-issued phone on him. Also, tell me if Dominic or anyone he might’ve investigated has property out here,” Declan said. “He took off through the woods on an ATV, but I’ve lost the tracks. Those things only hold a few hours of gas at a time. He couldn’t have gone far.”
The chances Declan would get handed a property with the killer’s name on it were slim, but the phone was a promising lead. Dominic was smart, organized. He’d stayed ahead of Blackhawk Security and the FBI this entire time without raising any warnings, but his former partner had never gotten on Declan’s bad side before. Chaos was about to reign.
Declan turned around, scanning the shadows. Another drop of sweat slid down his neck. He had to control his body temperature. The slightest hint of moisture could pull his system into hypothermic territory.
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