by Cynthia Eden
Asher’s heartbeat drummed in his ears. “Do you?” he asked her, voice rasping.
Do you want me?
Her long lashes lifted and her green gaze caught his. She didn’t have to answer him—he read the answer in her eyes.
No matter what some dumbass had told her, Bailey wasn’t damaged. Not by a long shot.
But she hadn’t answered him. She backed away and put her fingers to her lips.
He watched her. Asher could still taste her, and he wanted more.
Hell, if Gabe found out what he’d just done . . .
Her fingers balled into a fist. “I think it’s time to go back now.”
Oh, hell. He’d scared her or hurt her or done something wrong. As he watched, Bailey turned away and he tried to figure out what he could say to fix this mess. She’d taken just a few steps when she glanced back. “Asher?”
The way she said his name . . .
You are working a case, asshole! And she’s probably about to tell your sorry self to take a hike. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, Bailey?”
“I do want you.” She seemed surprised by her own words. “The problem is . . . I don’t know what to do next.”
Baby, I know.
“I’m scared.”
“Don’t be afraid of me. I swear, I would never hurt you.” He’d sooner cut off his own hands than ever hurt her or any woman. That just wasn’t in him.
“It’s not you I’m afraid of.” Her smile threatened to break his heart. “It’s me.” Then she headed for her car without another word.
Asher stood there a few moments, watching her.
Then she drove away.
Hannah Finch adjusted her pack and stared out at the woods around her. Her first solo trek. Her asshole of an ex-boyfriend had told her going backcountry camping for four days would be too much for her. That she wasn’t meant to rough it. That the first time she had to pee on a tree, she’d balk.
He had it all wrong. The truth was . . . she hadn’t been meant to stay with an arrogant ass.
She had her water. She had her food. She had her tent and her supplies—her pack was all ready to go, all 32.4 pounds of it. She’d mapped out her trail, and this weekend was going to be all about her.
A smile stretched across her face as she advanced. Her boots hugged her feet perfectly. No amateur mistakes from her—she’d broken in those babies long before the hike. Her car was parked and locked at the parking lot below, the one that waited right at the tip of her trail.
She was going to see waterfalls, going to hike to the top of a glorious peak, and she was going to reconnect with nature. Screw technology. This was her time.
Hannah whistled as she walked. The temperature was perfect. The air smelled great. The leaves were starting to turn colors—absolutely gorgeous. This trip was so going to kick ass.
Her eyes closed as she walked and she just soaked it in. Nature. Freaking awesome.
There were people in the world who believed that everything happened for a reason. There was no chance. No happy coincidence.
Every single thing that occurred was meant to be.
So when he caught a glimpse of the woman walking on the trail, her red hair glinting in the sunlight, he understood that she was meant to be—meant to be his.
Her whistle reached him. Some happy, silly little tune. She was walking easily, her backpack secured well as she walked. She was still pretty close to the parking lot—just starting her journey.
Alone.
When the Death Angel had been hunting, no one had hiked alone. Not men. Not women. Everyone had been extra vigilant. But the Death Angel was long gone, and people thought life was safe in those North Carolina mountains.
They’d all forgotten the terror that came before.
Perhaps it was time for everyone to start remembering.
The woman with the red hair disappeared as she headed farther on the trail. Her whistling carried back to him.
And he smiled. Then he began to follow her.
Chapter Four
Deputy Wyatt Bliss was sitting on Bailey’s porch when she returned home. She slammed her car door shut, frowning at him. It was just after lunchtime, and the guy didn’t normally just appear on her doorstep.
When he saw her, Wyatt rose and headed toward her. “Found the car from last night,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You caught the guy?”
The growl of a motorcycle’s engine reached her ears. She looked back and saw that Asher had turned onto her street.
“Figured he’d be right behind you,” Wyatt muttered. “Did some digging on him, too. Not real sure I like what I found.”
“What?” Bailey shook her head. “You checked out Asher? But he’s with LOST—”
“Right. A civilian group. He’s not law enforcement, and with you inviting the guy right into your house, I wanted to learn more about him.” His lips thinned. “Like I said, I didn’t like what I found.”
The motorcycle’s growls had faded into silence. From the corner of her eye, she saw Asher push down the kickstand on his bike, then his hands curled around the helmet that covered his face.
“The guy’s got a bad past, Bailey. You need to watch him.”
“He’s helping me.”
“Then maybe you should have checked him out more before you hired the man.”
Now he was pissing her off. She was tired of everyone telling her what she should do. It had been the same way after she got out of that freaking hole. The blame—it had been there. From the few friends who’d dropped by her hospital room. From her boyfriend. Telling her she should have been more careful. That she should have paid more attention to her surroundings.
Like—what? She’d been responsible for all the twisted shit that came her way?
“Maybe you should just tell me what you found out about the driver who tried to run us down last night,” Bailey snapped back.
Surprise flashed on Wyatt’s face. “Bailey?”
Asher had closed in. The guy had moved with that lethal, predatory grace of his. When he took a step, he didn’t make so much as a rustle of sound. Was that a SEAL thing? And, really how bad could he be? He was a SEAL. Didn’t that mean he’d been busy protecting and serving his country?
“You found the creep who was here last night?” Asher asked. His arm brushed against Bailey’s.
She didn’t flinch away. Actually, she was finding that she liked it when Asher touched her.
She liked him.
Maybe because he didn’t constantly look at her as if she were some damaged doll. He looked at her, saw her scars and told her—
Don’t hide them.
She’d been hiding so much of herself for the last six months. Maybe it was time to stop.
I was a fighter. I got out of those woods.
Time for that woman to come back, and not remain the scared shell she’d been for so long. Time for her to feel something more than fear.
Asher makes me feel desire. When I touch him, it’s like I’m coming alive again. So she kept wanting to touch him, more and more. To feel . . . more and more.
“I found the car,” Wyatt said carefully. “Turned out the Mustang was stolen a few days ago. And whoever took it decided to ditch the ride at a gas station just outside of Brevard this morning. Looks like the car was wiped down—no prints that we could see.”
A knot formed in Bailey’s stomach. “Stealing a car? Wiping it down? That all sounds . . .” Her voice trailed away. It sounds like it isn’t some punk kid. But then, as soon as the guy aimed at us last night, I knew it was something else . . .
“I think you need to be extra cautious,” Wyatt said, concern darkening his face. “There are an awful lot of weirdos in this world, and if someone saw you too much on TV—”
“And got fixated on you,” Asher interrupted starkly.
“It just might not be safe,” Wyatt said, his lips curving down in a small frown. “I’ve got my men searching the area. And I’ll have a patrol co
ming through your neighborhood, just to make sure that you’re all right.”
Wyatt was a deputy, yes, but the guy was actually in line to take over for the sheriff. Technically, he already did all the work that was supposed to fall on the sheriff’s shoulders because Sheriff Johnson was two steps away from retirement, and taking care of day-to-day business in the county wasn’t exactly high on his priority list anymore.
Bailey knew that Sheriff Johnson blamed himself for the Death Angel’s kills. Kills that had all happened in Johnson’s jurisdiction. Under his watch. She wasn’t sure if retirement was his plan . . . or if he’d just been caught drinking too many times and the guy was being forced out of office now.
Either way, Wyatt would soon be running things.
“I didn’t like it when those reporters kept nosing around,” Wyatt continued. “And now . . . with some guy stealing a car and making threatening phone calls . . .” He stopped, looking helpless.
“Bailey isn’t alone,” Asher said in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “I’ll be at her side, and you can rest assured I won’t let anyone near her.”
That was—she exhaled slowly—nice. Nice that he had her back that way. “Speaking of reporters,” Bailey murmured. “When we were in the woods this morning, at the crime scene, we saw Richard Spawn. The guy was messing around with Asher’s motorcycle.”
Wyatt’s eyes turned to slits. “What the hell were you doing out there?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?” Had he missed what she said about the motorcycle?
But Wyatt stepped forward and caught her hands in his.
“You need to stay away from that place. Shit, Bailey, move on. Don’t go back out there digging up ghosts. It’s not good for you. You know what the shrink said. You should let go or you won’t ever be able to get your life back.”
He was doing it again. Looking at her like she was some beaten victim. Telling her all the things she should do.
“Uh, yeah, about letting go,” Asher drawled before she could say anything. “How about you do me a favor, Deputy, and you let the lady go? Now.”
Wyatt looked down at his hold on Bailey’s wrists and he seemed surprised. He immediately yanked his hands back and jerked away. “Sorry.”
Asher moved his body, not completely blocking her view of the deputy but making himself a nice, sturdy barricade between her and Wyatt. “If Bailey wants to dig up ghosts—if she wants to dig up freaking graves—then she’s going to do it,” he said bluntly. “And I’ll be right there, helping her do that shit.”
Her shoulders straightened.
But, if anything, Wyatt just appeared angrier. His gaze cut to her. “Bailey, you need to know . . . straight up, this man is a killer.”
“What?” Shock rocked through her. He seriously hadn’t just said that. Had he?
“Deputy . . .” The hard snap was a warning from Asher.
“He was a SEAL.” Wyatt wasn’t backing down. “What do you think he was doing on those missions? I tried to dig into the mission case files, but they were classified, every single one of them. But the training he had—he was trained to kill. Quickly, efficiently.”
Her hands had balled into fists. “He was trained to protect. He was protecting our country.”
“Bailey . . .”
“Stop it.” She threw the words at him because she was done. “Stop talking down to me. Stop trying to order my life. I hired Asher. I like him. And, no, I don’t believe for one moment that he is some kind of threat to me.” He couldn’t be because when she was with him—she felt safe. She didn’t feel that way with anyone else. She couldn’t let her guard down with anyone else.
He’s the first man I can look at and actually want in a very long time.
She didn’t feel the need to pretend with him. He saw her, just as she was.
Don’t hide your scars. She didn’t want to hide anything from him. With Asher, she wanted to be completely open.
“You carry a gun,” Bailey pointed out to Wyatt. “And you were trained, too. But I don’t call you a killer and I never will.”
His gaze blazed at her. “I’m trying to tell you that you’re making a mistake—”
“Going to LOST was the best decision I’ve made in a very long time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my backpack ready.” But when she stepped forward, he was in her way, blocking her path. “Excuse me.” Only those weren’t nice words from her—they were an order. Excuse me . . . with an implied get the fuck out of my way.
“Your backpack?” Wyatt seemed to be sweating. “You’re not going back out there—tell me you’re not.”
He was pushing her too much. “I’m going back there. Asher and I want to search the area some more to see if we can find any sign of the woman I saw.”
“She was never there!”
And something splintered—just cracked apart inside of her. “Yes, she was!” Her words were a shout of fury.
As much of a shout as she could manage. “I’m not crazy—I never have been! That woman was there, and I’m not going to forget her. I can’t.”
Wyatt stumbled back a step. “We searched those woods. The dogs searched—”
“There are a lot of woods up there,” Asher said quietly. “A whole lot of ground to cover.”
Wyatt raked a hand over his face. “Right, right, there is.” His hand fell. “So how are the two of you supposed to magically find the victim—if there is one—”
“There is,” Bailey said. She is real.
“How are you supposed to find her up there?” Wyatt demanded.
Bailey saw Asher flash a cold, hard smile at the deputy. Rather like a shark’s grin. “We’ll try our damnedest. Trying, that’s what we are going to do.”
Bailey wasn’t going to listen to Wyatt anymore. She brushed past him and hurried up the steps.
“Bailey!” Wyatt called after her. “Stop! You don’t know this guy—”
Bailey didn’t stop. She did know Asher and she wasn’t going to listen to Wyatt hurl his insults, not any longer. Things were changing for her. No more “poor Bailey Jones . . .”
It was time for her to take her life back. She’d realized that fact when she stood there with Asher, staring at those five graves. Four women didn’t have lives any longer. They were gone.
But she had a chance. She couldn’t let the Death Angel rob her of anything, not anymore.
My life. My rules.
Time to get back the woman she’d been.
Bailey Jones is coming home.
The front door slammed closed behind Bailey, and the deputy—he stared at the door with a gaping mouth and shocked eyes.
Asher sighed, drawing the deputy’s focus back to him. “Yeah, so . . . it’s not going to happen.”
“What?” Wyatt Bliss looked confused.
So Asher decided to clarify for him. “You. Bailey. Whatever little dream you had stirring in your head—it’s not going down. Better just give it up now.”
“Listen, you—”
“No, you listen.” He stalked toward the deputy. “She wanted you to hear her. She wanted you to help, and you turned a blind eye. For months.” Idiot. “I’m here now, and I’ll make sure that she gets the help—that she gets anything—she needs.”
“You want to fuck her.”
Asher’s eyes widened. Someone had certainly gone straight for the punch. At least he’d been more—delicate? Maybe. Screw it. “So do you.”
If the deputy’s eyes narrowed any more, the guy wouldn’t be able to see. “She’s a victim. She needs care. She needs—”
“Bailey is the only one who knows what she needs.” But he’d learned that she wanted him. And Asher wasn’t about to let this bozo with a badge try to come between him and Bailey.
“You think she needs you? Wants you? She’s not at that damn point, asshole. She needs care. Protection. She can’t get into some kind of relationship now.”
Asher sighed. “There you go again. Thinking you know what she needs.” His lips t
wisted. “That’s why you’re shit out of luck, man. You don’t tell a woman what she needs or what she wants. You let her figure that out for herself.”
Wyatt surged forward, nearly standing toe to toe with Asher. “You think you’re something damn special, don’t you?”
Asher carefully considered the question, then nodded. “Most days, yeah, I do.” He gave the guy a grim smile. “Thanks for noticing, Deputy.”
The deputy growled back at him. “I know you.”
“I doubt that.” Just as I doubt that you know Bailey.
“I dug into your past. So Uncle Sam kept your missions classified?” His face turned smug. “There was plenty more to find about you. I just had to look long and deep enough. Believe me. I did.”
Anger burned in Asher’s gut. “Shouldn’t you have spent all that time looking for the jerk who tried to terrorize Bailey?”
“I know what you did. Awful young for a first kill, wasn’t it?” The deputy raked him with a hard stare. “What does something like that do to a man? Does it twist you? Turn you into a monster? Is that why you took so many black ops missions? You got a dark side in you that just needs to come out?”
Asher breathed, real nice and easy. He wasn’t letting this jerkoff get to him. The days of rage taking over and him throwing his fists at dumbasses were long gone. Mostly. “If you read up on my past, then you know everything I did was justified.”
“You were in and out of juvie after that. Trouble, left and right. Trouble until you got sent off into the military—”
“I volunteered,” Asher clarified. My choice. Because he’d known he was on the wrong path, and he’d wanted to change.
“You’re not what she needs right now.”
“Back to that, are we?” Asher murmured. Someone was sure obsessed with what Bailey needed. “How about we let Bailey decide?”
“I will tell her,” Wyatt threatened. “I’ll tell her everything about you.”
Asher’s brows rose. “Go right ahead. I don’t hide my past. It’s part of me, always will be.”
Wyatt glared at him a moment longer, but then the deputy’s phone rang, vibrating on his hip. He stepped back from Asher, looked down at the number on his phone’s screen, and swore.