by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron
He didn’t know how long they lay there as he counted her breaths, but night had started falling again, and he realized she’d drifted to sleep in his arms. Flames crackled in the stone hearth, shifting the shadows across her features. Exhaustion and her sweet scent pulled him closer to oblivion, to the point he couldn’t fight it anymore. The echo of her scream in the woods cut through him as sleep closed in but he only held her tighter.
She was alive. She was safe. The truth settled deep into Declan’s bones as he slipped into unconsciousness. She was his.
Chapter Ten
Kate shifted onto her side, hundreds of lit Christmas lights sparkling above her. A smile pulled at one corner of her mouth at the sight as she stretched her aching muscles. When was the last time she’d slept so well? Months? A year? The past four days had taken a toll, but for the first time since dodging bullets back at the house, she felt almost human. What had changed?
She raised her head at a hard thumping noise from outside, and she straightened. Rubbing her fingers across one eye, she pushed to her feet. She already knew the answer. “Declan?”
A tray with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a slip of paper sat on the sofa cushion near the fur rug they’d fallen asleep on. She breathed in the combination of cinnamon and cocoa. How did he know she liked to sprinkle cinnamon on top of her hot chocolate? She pinched the piece of paper between two fingers.
Take your time and dress warm before you meet me outside.
Replacing the note, she picked up the mug. Heat spread through her as she sipped and chased back the chill that had settled there since she’d been tossed into the pit. Her shoulder ached, but it was nothing compared to recovering from three bullet wounds and the handful of surgeries afterward. Her favorite hot beverage helped. The IOU list she’d created in her head for Declan had already started growing out of control.
She changed into warmer clothes—harder than anticipated with a hole in her shoulder—and slid on her boots before stepping onto the front porch. The light veil of snow coating everything heralded the arrival of winter. She scanned the front yard for the source of the rhythmic sound, but there was no sign of Declan. Following the stone path around to the back of the cabin, she tamped down the need to search the trees at every movement, every sound.
She was safe here. She had to believe that. Otherwise...
Circling around the back of the cabin, Kate slowed as Declan came into sight.
He’d shed his jacket, and thick bands of muscle tightened and released down his back, across his shoulders, in his arms. Despite the cold, sweat formed a thin layer across his brow as he heaped a shovelful of snow onto a pile next to the in-ground firepit.
The longer she studied him, the more the knot in her gut eased. “I’m pretty sure Vincent doesn’t expect you to shovel snow while we’re here.”
Declan spun, and that smile of his hiked her blood pressure higher as he balanced one hand on the snow shovel. “Good morning.” Gleaming blue eyes focused on her, and the world disappeared. “I was about to come dump a handful of snow on you to wake you up.”
“Is that what all this is for?” Warmth climbed up her neck and into her face as snow fell around them. He made her feel warm, safe, cared for. Then again, he’d had that skill from the moment he’d inserted himself back into her life. When he’d died, she’d felt as though she’d shattered into a million pieces, and it had taken close to a year to be able to put herself back together.
But for the first time in a long time, the pieces fit. She was starting to feel whole, to think of a future outside of grieving, outside of hunting down killers. A future with Declan. And last night, she could’ve sworn she fit perfectly against him.
Kate walked up to the firepit. Boxes of graham crackers, bags of marshmallows and packages of chocolate bars sat a few feet away. S’mores? “Quite the breakfast you have planned.”
“You only live once. Well, not in my case, but you get the point.” Flakes collected in his hair as he closed the short distance between them. For an instant, she could’ve sworn his pupils darkened as he studied the sling around her arm. “How’s the pain?”
“Better today.” She didn’t want to think about the hole in her shoulder, how it got there, who’d shot her or why. She wanted the world to stop, wanted to close her eyes and for once not see herself at the bottom of that pit with Brian Michaels’s remains. She wanted her life back. But the Hunter had made that impossible. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself otherwise, the man who’d trapped her wasn’t finished. The world wouldn’t stop just because she needed it to.
He wasn’t done killing, and he wasn’t finished with her.
Kate clenched her fists to hold on to a bit of warmth and forced a smile. “Did you build a snow fort?”
“Yeah. Still needs some finishing touches, but I thought it’d be fun to get some sunshine, start a fire and relive all those favorite Christmas memories of yours.” Declan narrowed his eyes at her, then he hefted the shovel from the ground and faced the mound of snow he’d built. “What do you say, Monroe? Ready to make yourself sick from eating too much chocolate?”
He’d done this for her?
Kate reached to frame his jaw with her hand. His stubble scraped along her palms, and he closed his eyes as though he were committing the moment to memory. Hope built inside her, and she planted a soft kiss against his cheek. Her heart skipped a beat as a flood of need overwhelmed her reluctance. She leaned in a second time, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. For all of this. For saving my life. For...everything.”
“Be careful, Kate.” His gaze was on her again, filled with molten heat. Declan trailed his free hand to her hips beneath the hem of her jacket, holding her in place. “I only have so much control when it comes to you.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few days, it’s that you won’t hurt me. I trust you.” She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip, and his gaze shot to her mouth.
The past four days—the past year of her life—had been filled with nothing but fear, pain and death. She couldn’t live like that anymore. Not when the man standing in front of her made her feel so much more.
Fisting her hand in his shirt collar, she pulled him into her. With her heart racing so fast and hard, she feared he might hear the chaotic beat, but she knew exactly what she was asking in that moment. A chance to forget. A chance to move on. They’d escape the pain for a bit, then she’d wake up tomorrow, and reality would come screaming back.
“Control is the last thing I want right now,” she said.
Then he was the one to kiss her. He swept inside her mouth without hesitation, and she committed every ounce of her being to him in that moment. No turning back. No letting the past interject between them anymore. The Declan Monroe she’d married had died that night in their home after a fatal shooting. She’d always love him—always have memories of him—but right now, she had a second chance.
And she was going to take it.
Snowflakes burned against her exposed skin as he deepened the kiss. He discarded the shovel and his hold strengthened around her back, molding her against him. The shooting, Michaels’s involvement with the Hunter, the nightmares, it all vanished as Declan’s fingers pressed into her spine.
“We almost died out there, and those were the most terrifying hours of my life. I thought I was going to lose you all over again.” She brushed her fingertips down his throat, over his Adam’s apple. “I don’t want to waste another minute being afraid, Declan.”
He trailed his fingers along the back of her arm, every inch prompting new desire. Lacing his fingers with hers, he tugged her to the entrance of the snow fort he’d built. “You never have to be afraid with me at your side. I’ll take a hundred more bullets, hang upside down for eternity and fight for you until my last breath if it means I get to be with you. I’m not going anywhere.”
<
br /> He picked up the bag of s’mores ingredients. Pulling her inside the snow fort, Declan rolled onto his back, on top of layers of blankets he’d laid out, and she did the same. “What do you think? Just like your childhood?”
“Not exactly. I wasn’t allowed to have boys inside my fort as a kid.” Gleaming ice surrounded them, but nothing but warmth penetrated through her clothing as she shifted beside him. “I’m thinking after the past few days we’ve had, we can break another rule while we’re at it and have s’mores for breakfast.”
“Coming right up.” Declan made quick work of starting the fire in the pit outside their snow cave door as she unpackaged the ingredients. He slid back inside, claiming his roasting stick and an oversize marshmallow. Within a minute, the marshmallows were perfectly brown, the scent of fire and pure sugar in the air as they assembled their treats.
He bit into the mess, leaving a bit of marshmallow and chocolate on his chin. “All right. You’ve got sugar for breakfast and a guy in your snow fort. What other rules are you interested in breaking today?”
“Just one more.” Reaching out, she skimmed her thumb over his bottom lip to wipe away the remnants of their sugar rush. Piercing blue eyes focused on her, and every cell in her body fizzed with awareness. Sunlight bore down on the fort, droplets of freezing water pooling at the edges of the blankets. A chunk of ice landed at her feet, but she wasn’t going to rush this. “But with the fort coming down around us, I recommend we make this first time fast.”
Kate set her chocolate-and-marshmallow breakfast aside and reached for her jacket. Sliding her one arm out, she tossed it aside and went for the Velcro on her sling. No more stalling. No more living in the past. The future sat right in front of her, waiting for her to make a choice she never thought she’d have to make. And she’d made it.
She planted her hand over his sternum. “Screw the rules.”
Declan threaded his fingers in her hair, then shifted her onto her back as he flashed that brilliant smile. “I was never a fan of them anyway.”
* * *
DECLAN SLIPPED FROM the king-size sheets they’d spent the rest of day underneath and grabbed his clothes before stalking toward the door. No more mistakes. He’d let that bastard get his hands on her once. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He wasn’t about to let her go, and he’d do whatever it took to protect her.
Even if it meant lying to her a bit longer.
Because once she discovered the truth, discovered he wasn’t the man she thought him to be, she wouldn’t want him anymore.
Oranges, yellows and reds bled through the cabin’s windows as the sun set in the west. He dressed quickly, then extracted her laptop from her bag beside the door. Taking position on one of the bar stools at the granite countertop, he dimmed the screen and typed the online access address for the FBI into the browser. The window changed, demanding a login and password. That bit of memory had come to the surface while he dug out the snow fort, and he typed in Special Agent Declan Monroe’s credentials.
Access granted.
Kate’s teammate, Elizabeth, had been assigned to review his old case files for the BAU, but she wasn’t an agent. She didn’t hunt the monsters in the dark. He did, and there had to be something he could work with—a clue, anything in these old files—he could follow to nail the perp with one of his own damn arrows. Somehow, the Hunter knew him, and Declan would make him pay for dragging Kate into his sick game.
He read through countless case files, one after the other. Crime scene photos, witness statements, arrest reports. Nothing jogged his memory, none of it linked to any other cases where an arrow was part of the killer’s MO. He had...nothing.
Declan rubbed at his eyes as frustration burrowed deeper. A single file on Kate’s desktop peeked out from behind the window he’d been working in. Case 306-AK-4442. The FBI’s internal offense code 306 categorized the file under serial killings, AK assigned the file to the Bureau’s Alaskan field office and the last number was unique to the case. The Hunter’s case.
Double tapping on the file folder, he scanned the evidence from the Hunter’s latest trophy, the woman Kate had found in the field. Kate and Declan might’ve been banned from working the case officially, but the FBI hadn’t ordered her to delete her case files. An oversight on Dominic’s part, but Declan wasn’t above taking advantage. Not when Kate’s life was in danger.
Mary Lawson. She fit the unsub’s MO, making her the perfect prey. But what were the chances the killer had found not two but four single women close to their thirties with blond hair and green eyes in this city? What was the connection? His rage boiled hot inside of him, a blistering fury that demanded he end the son of a bitch. “When are you going to try for her again, you bastard?”
The kitchen lights brightened, and his spine went rock hard as he closed down the file window.
“You want to go after him alone.” She moved into his peripheral vision, her fingers trailing across his shoulders, and his grip on the counter relaxed. She took a seat beside him, her voice devoid of emotion. No plea to get him to stop. No disappointment in his decision. Nothing. “Even though we’re off the case, you can’t let the Hunter get away with what he did.”
“He tried to kill you.” But he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to focus on the evidence, had to find a lead. Because the Hunter wasn’t finished. He’d come after Kate again. He’d try to take her away. That wasn’t happening. “And for all you know, I could be researching different s’more recipes.”
“Okay, first, you’re a horrible liar,” she said.
If only that were true.
“Second, I know you, Declan.” She reached across the laptop and hit a command to bring up the Hunter’s files. He inwardly flinched. “You might not have all your memories, but some things are ingrained too deep. Doubling down on a case is something you used to do as an agent, even when you only had a hunch. Third, there’s no other way to make s’mores. I don’t care what the internet says.”
Her green gaze glowed from the laptop’s brightness. She pulled her hand away as she stood. “Besides, I’m not sure he was trying to kill us. There were faster ways to accomplish the task, and he wouldn’t have worn a mask or disguised his voice if that was his intention.”
“What then? He’s dressing up for Halloween?” he asked.
“I think he was testing us.” Her thin robe fluttered around her knees as she moved to the refrigerator. She pulled a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk from the fridge and set them on the island in front of him. “He killed Michaels and broke his own MO. He’s not operating out of some undeniable urge to kill like most serials. The Hunter wanted us—wanted me—to see what he’s capable of. Maybe to prove he’s above my skills as a profiler, which is certainly looking to be true for the time being.”
Declan stood, coming around the countertop. “We’re going to catch this guy, Kate.” They had to. Otherwise... He shut down that line of thought. No. He wouldn’t think about that. He wouldn’t think about losing her like that.
“I let my personal problems get in the way of doing my job. Again.” She twisted the cap off the milk and selected a brightly colored ceramic mixing bowl from the cabinet. She cracked one egg into the bowl, then another. “How exactly are we supposed to catch him when I can’t even wrap my head around the fact you’re standing in this kitchen with me?”
“You need to know, there was nothing you could’ve done for Michaels,” he said. “He didn’t become one of your patients by chance. He was placed in your path. Someone sent him to shoot you.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she stumbled away from the counter. The egg in her hand fell to the floor, but she didn’t move to clean it up. Eyes wide, she licked her lips. “What did you say?”
“Right before I heard those gunshots in the woods, I found Michaels.” Declan lowered his voice.
It’d all been in his statement to th
e Anchorage PD and FBI while she was in surgery, but Kate had been removed from the case right afterward. She had no reason to believe she still had access to those files. No reason to go back and read his statement. If anything, she’d probably made the effort to avoid anything to do with the case since being pulled from that damn hole in the ground.
“His throat had been cut, but before he died, he told me he was hired to fire those shots. Someone paid him to pull the trigger a year ago and again the other day. He was a pawn, Kate. You did nothing wrong.”
“You think that person who hired him is the Hunter.” She worked to swallow, her gaze distant as she studied the broken egg on the floor. Her fingers went to the scar at the collar of her T-shirt, a nervous habit that had increased over the last few days.
“I guess that explains why both Michaels and our serial killer were in those woods at the same time, but that still doesn’t make sense. The Hunter is the one with the fascination for blonde women with green eyes. Not Michaels.” She looked up at him. “Why would he send one of my patients after me at all? And with a gun? Serial killing teams are rare, but if they were partners, wouldn’t they have the same MO? They build off each other, they work hard—together—to distort the evidence and confuse law enforcement. Studies have shown they have a smaller chance of getting caught that way because police think they’re only after one unsub instead of two distinct killers.”
He’d given it a lot of thought since walking out of those woods with her in his arms and again as he’d traced the scar tissue across her chest while she slept. There was only one explanation. Declan rested his hip against the counter, folding his arms across as his own scars burned with awareness. “I don’t think the bullets were meant for you.”
She lowered her hand. “There was only one other person in that house, which means—”
“Michaels was sent to kill me.” The bastard had almost succeeded. Twice. Only, Kate had gotten caught in the cross fire. Was that why the Hunter cut Michaels’s throat? Had it been punishment for his partner nearly killing the target he was really after?
