Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  * * *

  THE SHADOW IN the tree line hadn’t been any ghost. With uneven terrain and minimal sunlight coming over those mountains, they were at a disadvantage here. For all Declan knew, the guy in the trees knew every inch of this property and beyond. They needed to call in Kate’s team. “Let’s get your team on the line—”

  “I’m going after him.” She moved fast, sprinting across the property, gun in hand.

  “Kate!” Damn it. He couldn’t let her go after the suspect alone. The fake address, the cabin—it could have been a setup from the beginning.

  Declan pumped his legs hard, but all too soon, the stitches in his side ripped. The pain pushed the air from his lungs, but he wouldn’t slow down. Not with the chance the bastard was waiting for her to come into range. Someone had already taken a shot at her in the past twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

  Broken branches and tall grass threatened to trip him up as she disappeared into the tree line. Panic exploded through his system. Damn. He’d lost sight of her.

  Freezing temperatures and the pain in his side battled for his attention, but he only cared about her. Declan pushed himself harder, into the darkness, past the first line of trees. Sunlight lightened the sky enough for him to navigate around a fallen tree ahead of him, but there was no sign of her.

  He slowed long enough to take in his surroundings. No beam of flashlight. No sounds of gunshots. Kate had been trained to protect herself, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get her out of this mess. He couldn’t lose her. Not again. “Kate!”

  Rustling reached his ears from the left, and he bolted that direction, his hand slick against the steel of the revolver. A shadow crossed his path ahead, moving fast, with another on its trail. Had to be her.

  Gripping his side, Declan launched himself over a small stream cutting through the wilderness. A growl worked up his throat as another stitch tore beneath the gauze, but he swallowed it down as he landed boots first. She wasn’t going to get away from him that easily and neither was the bastard she was chasing. Hauling himself upright, he forced himself to keep going. Branches drew blood at his face and arms. “You better be alive when I find you, angel.”

  He wouldn’t lose her again.

  The trees shifted to his right, pulling his gaze from the path a split second before a wall of muscle slammed into him. He twisted and fell, rolling into the stream. What the ever loving hell?

  Cold water heightened his senses as he planted his hands into the ground and locked on the outline of a man less than ten feet away.

  The shadowy bastard had doubled back and lost Kate in the process.

  Or there were two of them.

  Declan straightened. His attacker blocked Declan’s path to Kate, planted himself directly in the center of the trail. It’d been a trap.

  Swiping his thumb across the bottom of his nose, he dislodged the water dripping down his face. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  The masked assailant charged.

  Shifting his weight onto his back foot, Declan caught the bastard just as the shadow’s shoulder slammed into his rib cage. Mud and foliage gave way beneath his boots, but he kept himself upright. Declan slammed an elbow into his attacker’s spine. Faster than he thought possible, the man wrapped his hands around Declan’s thighs and hiked him off his feet. The wall of trees blurred in his vision as he hit the ground, his attacker’s weight pinning him to the ground.

  Sunlight streaked across the wilderness floor, enough for Declan to realize the shadow above him had pulled back his elbow to strike. He dodged the first punch, but the second landed directly into the mess of blood from the stitches in his side.

  As though the son of a bitch had known exactly where to strike.

  “You should’ve stayed dead, Monroe.”

  The voice was distorted, unrecognizable.

  Agony washed over Declan’s side, and he couldn’t hold back the scream clawing up his throat. He rammed his knee into his attacker’s side, dislodging him long enough to gain the upper hand. Adrenaline burned through him, pushed the pain to the back of his mind and cut the last remains of his control. Blood slipped into the waistband of his jeans as he rocketed his fist into the masked bastard’s face. Twice more.

  But Declan wasn’t through yet. Grabbing his attacker’s collar in one hand, he positioned his arm for another hit. The shadow wobbled on his knees, barely upright. The suspect Kate had gone chasing after must’ve been a decoy. “Give it up, Michaels. You’re finished, and you will never get your hands on her.”

  A low, uneven laugh bled through the pounding heartbeat in his ears. Clamping one gloved hand over Declan’s, the masked assailant pried the grip from his collar and rose. Toe-to-toe, his attacker reached well over Declan’s six-foot-two.

  “Even with a second chance at a new life, you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? You always had to be the hero.”

  What? Narrowing his eyes, Declan fought against the strength twisting his wrist, but the mask didn’t reveal any identifying characteristics. Hell, even if it did, he wasn’t sure he’d have anything to compare them to. The amnesia had stymied any chance of that. But the suspect in front of him didn’t come across as a former patient diagnosed with dissociative disorder. No. This man had training, military or law enforcement if Declan had to guess. He was in control. A predator. A killer. “You’re not Michaels. Who the hell are you?”

  “Doesn’t matter who I am.” A fast strike to the solar plexus shot the nerves there into overdrive, pressurized his lungs, and Declan fell to one knee. The pain in his arm intensified as the shadow above held on to his hand. Any wrong move and the bones would shatter. The suspect had him in the perfect position to take him out of the fight altogether, and he knew it. “But you. You’re just in my way.”

  Kate.

  Every cell in his body heated. Declan craned back his head, attention focused on the bastard’s dark gaze burning down on him. He ignored the pain in his side and his wrist. He’d been through worse, recovered from worse. And there was no way in hell the son of a bitch would touch Kate. “As long as I’m alive, you’ll never get to her.”

  “I can fix that.” His attacker increased the pressure.

  Declan came up swinging. He landed a solid hit with his nondominant hand, hauling the SOB to the left and exposing his assailant’s back. With a hard kick to the attacker’s knee, Declan followed through with his elbow to the base of the neck, but the guy didn’t stay down for long.

  The bastard struck fast.

  Declan wrapped his hand around the attacker’s wrist, raised his arm over his head and targeted the man’s rib cage. Once. Twice.

  The woods blended into a stream of lifeless color as Declan was shoved forward into the bark of a wide pine. Agonizing pain ripped through him from his gunshot wound, and Declan dropped to his knees. Clinging to the tree in front of him, he fought to stay upright as darkness closed in around the edges of his vision.

  His attacker moved into his peripheral vision, a black shadow in a forest of brightening light. Fisting his hand in Declan’s hair, he wrenched his head back as a hint of sunlight gleamed off metal. A knife. “To think, all this time, I thought you’d be hard to kill.”

  Blood dripped onto the dried leaves beneath him, a soft pattering in his ears. Declan clutched his side to slow the blood flow, but his heart was pumping too hard, too fast. Depending on the damage, he’d bleed out in a matter of minutes if he didn’t get medical help. But not before he got to Kate. “Go to hell.”

  “See you there.” The knife came at him fast, but Declan rolled at the last second.

  His assailant’s scream penetrated through the thick haze clouding Declan’s head as the blade slashed across his upper thigh. Declan pushed to his feet, facing off with the masked thug and the large serrated hunting knife. Stinging pain spread through his skull, but a fe
w hairs in the name of survival weren’t anything to miss.

  His strength drained with every drop of blood hitting the ground, but the moment Declan backed down, his attacker would go after Kate. Not happening. She’d already been through hell. He wasn’t going to give this bastard the power to break her again. The past, his memories. None of it mattered right now. She mattered.

  He struggled to stay balanced, blinked to clear the sweat from his eyes and raised his fists. The pristine edge of the blade had been tainted with the attacker’s own blood. “Want to take bets on which one of us bleeds out faster?”

  “I’ve already won.” The man lunged, a grunt filling the silence of the woods around them.

  The knife made contact with Declan’s arm and tore through his T-shirt into skin. He blocked the second strike, dodged the third. Throwing his weight into his arm, Declan pushed off the tree behind him and swung as hard as he could. Bone met bone, a satisfying crack. He followed the blade’s path into the group of dying brush, wrapped his fingers around the handle and turned back to finish the fight.

  He wasn’t fast enough.

  Clamping his hands on either side of Declan’s head, his assailant pulled Declan’s face directly into his knee.

  Lightning flashed across the backs of his eyes as the world tilted on its axis. The blade fell from his hand as his legs dropped out from under him. He collapsed to his side, watching as his attacker collected the knife. His limbs refused to obey his brain’s commands as the son of a bitch centered himself in Declan’s darkening vision.

  “I’m going to find her, Monroe. I’m going to make her pay for what she’s done.” The mask stretched thin across the lower half of the attacker’s face, as though he were smiling beneath it. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “No.” Declan clawed at the dirt and leaves as the man walked away. He had to get up. He had to fight. But the darkness sucked him down.

  Chapter Seven

  Kate had closed in right on the shadow’s tail, gun in hand.

  Only now she recognized the build, the grayish-blond hair, the terrified features as he chanced a glance back at her. Brian Michaels. Branches and needles whipped at her face, but with the rising sun, there was little chance of losing him, even in the dense trees. How far were they from the cabin now? Half a mile? More? Her muscles burned with exhaustion, her lungs on fire from the frozen temperatures. “Brian, stop!”

  Ten feet. She pumped her legs as fast as she could. Five feet. She could almost reach out and touch him. Kate stretched her hand forward, fingers brushing the soft fabric of his sweatshirt hood—

  Her foot tangled in the bushes, and she hit the ground hard. A combination of pain and relief coursed through her muscles as she forced herself to look up. Michaels raced away from her, his footsteps fading within a few seconds. Tightening her hold on the gun, she pulled at her boot to get free of whatever’d she gotten caught it in. “Damn it.”

  Moisture soaked through her jeans and T-shirt as she sat up. If she hurried, she could still catch up with Michaels, but her foot wouldn’t come loose. A flash of yellow revealed why.

  Kate reholstered her weapon beneath her jacket. The crime scene tape woven throughout the dried weeds had caught in the metal brackets of her boots. She picked at it until she slid her foot out but didn’t drop the thin plastic as she straightened. “What would crime scene tape be doing all the way out here?”

  Surveying the trees, the surrounding grass, she froze. She knew this area, had seen dozens of photos of it, had memorized it to ensure she hadn’t missed a single element of evidence when she’d started profiling the Hunter. Blood drained from her face, and cold worked through her. “This is where they found her.”

  The first victim.

  Had to be a coincidence. Kate released the tape, letting it settle back into the bushes and took a single step forward. Unless...

  She spun, searching the surrounding trees for signs of movement. No. Michaels didn’t fit the profile. The evidence at all three scenes spoke of undeniable, unfulfilled rage that only grew with every kill, but the murders had been planned down to the very last detail. The FBI’s suspect was a psychopath. Not a sociopath. He could control his emotions, hold on to them until the job was done.

  Michaels couldn’t string two sentences together before his disorder got the better of him. The Hunter stalked his victims, seduced them, then brought them out to the woods and hunted them for sport. Each kill had been too organized. Too detailed. Nothing like her former patient.

  Then again, her entire job was to deal in opinions. One wrong assumption and an entire case could unravel.

  Kate trudged through the knee-high grass, leaving the scene behind. Everything had been processed by the FBI. There was nothing left for her to analyze. Now she just had to figure out a way out of here and relocate Michaels. “Declan!”

  She could’ve sworn he’d been right behind her. He could be anywhere now. Spinning in a complete circle, she headed west across the small open field she hadn’t realized she’d run through during her pursuit of Michaels.

  She’d find Michaels again. There were only so many places a man like that could go, and one day he’d make a mistake. She’d be there when he did. The bullet graze across her arm itched. She was tired of getting shot at. “Decl—”

  Another flash of color caught her eye. Red this time. Kate slowed, her fingers tingling for her weapon as she proceeded through the grass. Pine cones beneath her boots broke the uneasy silence around her as she unholstered her weapon again. What were the chances...

  No. Couldn’t be.

  The wind picked up, the undeniable scent of perfume on the air, and her stomach revolted. Pale skin and blond hair stood stark against the browns, reds and greens of the surrounding foliage as she came around a thicket of grass. The sun was high enough now to highlight the soft gleam of the red silk dress draped across the woman. The woman with an arrow in her chest.

  Kate wrenched herself away from the scene as fast as she could to avoid contaminating the evidence. The shrimp linguine Declan had taken such care to make rushed up her throat, emptying her stomach in a matter of seconds.

  Her heart pounded too loud behind her ears. A light breeze wove through the trees. One breath. Two. Didn’t help. She could still smell the woman’s perfume, still see those green eyes staring up at her. She had to call Special Agent Dominic.

  The Hunter had struck again.

  Shoving her hand in her jacket pocket, she gripped the phone and tapped the screen. No service. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Every minute the scene waited to be discovered, evidence disappeared. Storms, wildlife. She couldn’t leave the poor girl out here alone, but unless Declan found her on his own, Kate would have to trek east back through the woods to the SUV. She forced one foot in front of the other toward the woman in the red dress, covering her mouth with her hand.

  The woman fit the appearance of the Hunter’s three other victims. Around thirty years old, blond hair, green eyes, athletic from the look of her frame and bare shoulders. She hadn’t been out here long. Maybe a couple hours judging by the presence of color beneath the skin. A fresh kill.

  Kate had joined Blackhawk Security and consulted with the FBI to prevent things like this from happening. Maybe if she’d started the profile sooner...

  She closed her eyes. No. Evidence suggested the Hunter seduced his victims days in advance. This one had been chosen long before the FBI and Dominic’s team had sent her the files. Kate stared at the woman’s hands, pale against the backdrop of her dress, then focused on the victim’s face. Memorized it. “I’m going to find him. I promise. Whoever did this to you is going to—”

  Green eyes blinked back at her.

  A scream escaped her control. Kate pushed away, the heel of her boot catching on a rock, and she landed hard on her back. Her breath came in small gasps as the last of her
adrenaline coursed through her. Running her hand through her hair, she fumbled for her phone again—still no service—and crouched beside the woman.

  The victim wasn’t dead. The arrow must’ve missed her heart. “Hang on,” Kate said. “I’m going to get you help. Can you tell me your name?”

  The breath wheezed from between the woman’s chapped lips. “M...ary.”

  “Mary.” No time for more questions. Kate had to get help. Placing one hand just below where the arrow entered Mary’s chest, she hit the power button on her phone five times and swiped her thumb across the screen to report her location to law enforcement. She retrieved the Blackhawk Security earpiece all operatives were required to carry from the bottom of her jacket pocket and secured it in her ear.

  “I won’t leave you, okay? Hang on, Mary. Help is on the way,” Kate said. “Sullivan—anybody—do you hear me? I need an ambulance sent to my location.”

  Static reached through the earbud. Out of range. Kate wrapped her hand around Mary’s and gave a soft squeeze. The fear in the victim’s eyes speared straight through her. “I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t have service in this spot. I need to walk around for a minute. I promise I’ll be right back. I won’t leave you.”

  Standing, she raised her phone above her head, hoping to catch a stray signal as she walked away a few steps. Where the hell was Declan? She slowed, cocking her head back over her shoulder toward Mary. If the Hunter had just deposited his latest kill—who wasn’t dead yet—there was a chance...

  The control she’d fought so hard to put back in place after Declan had stripped her bare cracked.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  Something was wrong. Declan had been almost right behind her as she pursued Michaels through the woods.

  A soft whistling broke through the silence. She searched the tree line, took a single step forward as every cell in her body tensed to that sound.