by Cynthia Eden
What?
Flynn whirled and ran from her room.
“Flynn!”
He didn’t stop at her shout. And he was moving so fast—
She made it to the landing to see that he’d jumped from the top of the stairs to the floor below. His knees didn’t even buckle as he rushed for the door. He yanked it open and as he did, she heard the distant growl of an engine.
She ran back to her room and grabbed the gun. Like she was going to be unarmed for whatever the hell was happening. Then her feet were flying over the stairs as she rushed back down to the first level of her home. Her front door was ajar, and she hurried toward it.
Flynn appeared, blocking her path. He wasn’t even breathing hard, but his eyes were a frozen gold. “The bastard was watching you.”
No, she didn’t want this to happen.
“I found tracks outside in the snow. Heard his motorcycle as he drove away. He was watching you.” He stepped forward and slammed the door behind him. “Bryce hasn’t gone away, Cece. He hasn’t given up. But he has found a way to cloak his scent and hide himself better from me. The rope was a message. He’s coming after you. He’s hunting you.”
The gun was so heavy in her hand.
“But I’ll fucking never let him have you,” Flynn swore. Then he kissed her.
His mouth crashed down on hers. She was holding the gun. She was terrified. And he kissed her.
No softness. No finesse. Just absolute possession. His lips took hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and Cecelia knew she should pull away. There were a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t be kissing him—and the psycho killer after her was just one of those thousand.
But she was frozen. Lost, just for a moment. Because the desperate desire that she felt for him—the primitive attraction that had burned since she’d first met him—flared to life again. It pushed past her fear and her logic, and she just gave in to the need she felt. She closed her eyes and she gave in to—
You think you’re going to take her, Bryce? Think the hell again. Cecelia’s mine.
She heard his words as clearly as if Flynn had just spoken them out loud, and they were like ice water pouring through her veins. She immediately jerked back.
His hand flew up and curved around her wrist. “Careful, sweetheart.” He took the gun from her in a blindingly fast move. “Wouldn’t want that to go off.”
“The safety was on,” she gritted. Her teeth were clenched because she was trying hard not to scream at Flynn. “What the hell was that about?”
“I want you. Don’t think I made a secret of that fact. So I kissed you—”
“I’m talking about the taunt,” Cecelia snapped back at him. “That message you sent to Bryce. What are you trying to do, exactly? Push him into a killing frenzy?”
Flynn tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. “How the hell do you know about that?” His face had gone hard in a flash. Hard and scary.
“I heard you. In my mind. You were practically screaming the message.”
But he shook his head. “You shouldn’t have heard me.”
“Right. I got that the message was for Bryce, that you were like what—psychically shouting it out in case he was close enough to hear you? Some big, bad ass taunt to him?” A taunt in which Flynn had claimed that she was his?
I’m not his.
Flynn’s face was hard and cold. “I don’t know if Bryce heard my message. Just in case the bastard was lingering around here, I wanted to be clear with him. But you shouldn’t have heard me. No one outside of the Lazarus subjects have ever heard my mental messages before.”
She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Then maybe you’re getting stronger because I did hear you.”
He didn’t speak.
The silence stretched too long.
“Flynn!” Cecelia burst out.
“Didn’t you hear me then?”
He was about to drive her insane. “What?”
“I just sent a message. Straight to you. Only from the look of things, you didn’t hear me.” He advanced on her. “Isn’t that interesting?”
No, it was crazy and scary and psychic bullshit. “We need to contact the others. Tell them about Bryce—”
His hand lifted and touched her cheek. “Are you getting my message now?”
No, she was just feeling his touch. And it was making her squirm. “Stop.”
His hand fell away.
“I’m going to get dressed. Then we need to contact the others. Bryce could come back.”
Flynn smiled, and it wasn’t a reassuring sight. “Let him. Then we can end this nightmare right now.”
She knew he meant that he’d kill Flynn. “Death isn’t always the answer.”
“For someone like him, sweetheart, it is. A normal prison won’t hold him, and you know that.” He paused. “Sawyer and I were designed to be weapons. But there was something wrong with the formula we were given. You and I both know it magnifies our worst traits. Bryce is a killing machine now, operating with no moral compass at all because the guy thinks that he’s some sort of god.”
“And what about you?”
His lashes flickered. A faint line of stubble covered his jaw. “What about me?”
“Do you think you’re some sort of god, too? Or do you think you’re just a weapon?” Both answers were wrong, and she held her breath, hoping that he’d say—
“I’m a nightmare, Cece. That’s what I am. Uncle Sam fucked me over, and a nightmare is all I’ll ever be.”
Chapter Three
“I did some digging…” Jennings “Jay” Maverick sat behind his desk, his hands—for once—still. Normally, the guy’s fingers were racing over the keyboard that he liked to keep close. He was a computer genius. A tech billionaire, and, somehow, he was also one of Flynn’s new allies.
Only Flynn wasn’t sure that he completely trusted the guy. Then again, Flynn didn’t trust anyone completely. Except…well, Cecelia.
“I think I have some news on Bryce King’s past.” Jay glanced around the room, his gaze sweeping past the “team” that was assembled there.
Flynn looked around, too. He was standing near the door, with his back against the wall, so he had a perfect view of their motley group. Jay was the current puppet master, pulling his tech strings, but he wasn’t the real leader of their band. No, that honor belonged to Sawyer Cage.
Sawyer had been the very first test subject in Project Lazarus. The first unlucky bastard to rise from the dead. Like the others in Lazarus, Sawyer didn’t remember much about his past. The formula brought back the dead, it gave them psychic bonuses, but it also came with some distinct negatives…
Like the fact that you lost your previous life.
Flynn didn’t know the names of his old lovers. Didn’t know his old friends. Didn’t know what kind of food he liked. Didn’t know when he’d had his first kiss…or made his first kill. Thanks to Project Lazarus, all of that was gone.
But, Sawyer, at least, had been able to find a piece of the man he’d once been. Thanks to the woman sitting at Sawyer’s side—Dr. Elizabeth Parker.
Dr. Elizabeth Parker was Lazarus. She’d been the brains behind the development of the formula, but she had tried to stop the experiments. And when her lover—Sawyer—had been killed and put in the program, she’d made it her mission to free him.
It was through Elizabeth that Flynn had met Jay, and Jay’s head of security, West Harper. West was the quiet type, not an over-sharer like Jay. Former Delta Force, West gave the impression that he could get shit done. Flynn rather liked that about the man.
He’d heard that Jay and West had been foster brothers once. The two were completely different in appearance and mannerisms. Jay was tall, lean, with too-long, blond hair, tanned skin, and his body seemed to be in constant motion. West was tall, too, but muscled, his skin a dark coffee, and his eyes were absolutely lethal. Jay might appear to be in constant motion—even when he was sitting, his body seemed to hum with energy—but Wes
t was the still and silent type.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Cecelia demanded, her voice husky but strong. “What did you learn?’
Cecelia was the last member of their group. She’d originally been hired to work with the Lazarus subjects, but when he’d broken out with Sawyer and Elizabeth, they’d taken her with them. Not like there had been much choice. Flynn knew that if he’d left her behind, he never would have seen Cecelia again.
Not an option.
The facility had been going straight to hell, and Flynn hadn’t been about to stand by while Cecelia burned.
“It was the rope that tipped me off.” Jay tapped his fingers on the desk. “Reminded me of some news stories I heard a while back.”
Cecelia paled.
Flynn tensed. He was aware of her increased heartbeat, of her shallow breaths. Something is very wrong.
But Jay kept talking. “There was this guy in Georgia, a killer who strangled his victims with a three-foot piece of nylon rope, exactly like the one Flynn found in the parking garage. He slipped into their homes, never left any sign of breaking or entering, and he always left his victims with white, nylon rope wrapped around their necks.”
Cecelia jumped from her spot on the couch. “You…you’re talking about the Midnight Strangler.”
Jay glanced up at her. His expression seemed a little smug. “I thought you might be familiar with the case.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t think it.” She marched toward him. Her face was pale but two bright spots of color now stained her cheeks. “You knew I was familiar with it.” Her hands slapped down on his desk. “Don’t jerk me around. Ever.”
Flynn’s hands fisted. Was he about to have to kick the ass of their tech guy?
“You dug into my life, didn’t you?” Cecelia angrily accused. “You dug up my past—”
Jay coughed. “Actually, I dug into Bryce King’s past.” Jay’s voice was mild. “He happened to live in Georgia at the time of those murders. He was stationed at Fort Benning. You already know he was a former Army Ranger, so that makes sense, right?”
Cecelia didn’t speak.
But, yeah, they all knew that Bryce had been a Ranger. All of the Lazarus subjects had been in the armed services.
“When I learned about Flynn’s discovery of the rope—such a very specific find—I started analyzing crime reports,” Jay continued as he shifted his body back and forth a bit nervously. “I wanted to see if there were any attacks associated with a rope like the one found under your car. Turned out, there were—”
“Four.” Cecelia straightened. “There were four women killed in Georgia. Strangled. With a white, nylon rope.” She glanced at Flynn, then quickly away. “And their murderer was never caught.”
“That’s because…” Jay smiled and seemed incredibly triumphant. “You can’t catch a dead man.”
“Wait, wait!” Elizabeth Parker was on her feet now, too. She paced toward Jay. “Slow down. Slow everything down. You’re telling me that Bryce King was a serial killer? And my former idiot of a boss, Wyman Wright, brought the guy into Project Lazarus anyway?”
Jay rolled back his shoulders. “I don’t have any proof that Bryce was—or, um, is—the Midnight Strangler. I just have puzzle pieces that seem to suggest he could be the killer.”
“Tell us about those pieces,” Sawyer Cage directed, his voice mild but his gaze hard.
“Right.” Now Jay started tapping on his keyboard. Behind him, two large computer screens immediately came to life. “These are the locations where the four Georgia victims were found.” A map was lit with red dots. “And this is where Bryce King was living at the time.” A yellow dot appeared in the middle of the other dots. “I think, um, I think Cecelia would say that is the guy’s—”
“Kill zone.” No emotion broke through her expression as she bit off those words. “That would be the kill zone.”
“Right. His kill zone. I’ve been able to confirm that Bryce King was in town at the time of the murders. He hadn’t even been discharged from the Rangers during the first and second attack, so it was easy to place him in the area. According to the profile that was created on him—”
“You sonofabitch,” Cecelia’s voice was low and snarling. “You know I made that profile.”
Surprise pulsed through Flynn.
Jay smiled at her. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? I believe you helped your ex-lover, FBI Agent Aaron Barrett, during the investigation. The FBI loves calling you in to consult, right? You’re so good at understanding the motivations of killers.”
Ex-lover. Flynn had surged away from the wall at those words. Cecelia had never mentioned a lover to him. Never said a word about someone waiting in the wings for her.
Her attention seemed completely focused on Jay. “I consulted. I gave assistance on the Midnight Strangler profile. You know this, obviously. Why are you playing some kind of game with me?”
“Cecelia.” West’s tone was mild.
She glanced at him. Their gazes locked.
Still mild, still quiet, West said, “This isn’t a game. Jay wasn’t sure how to tell you what he found. He knew…hell, we both knew you’d react this way.” His pose was still relaxed, but his dark gaze was watchful.
“‘React this way’? You mean freak out? Yes, I’m doing that. But I’m getting my shit together.” She exhaled on a long sigh and straightened away from the desk. “I remember the Midnight Strangler’s profile. I knew we were looking for a man in his early thirties, maybe late twenties. An attractive man. Charming. All of his victims were young and beautiful women. They wouldn’t have opened their doors to just anyone. He had to seduce them, had to get them to want him inside. That…that’s what I thought back then…” Her words trailed away, and a faint furrow appeared between her brows. “But he likes to watch.”
Flynn moved toward her, pulled—no, damn near compelled to get closer because her fear was growing. “Cece?”
She blinked and looked at him. “Bryce snuck into my room at Lazarus. He told me he’d done it multiple times. That he liked to watch. With…with the Midnight Strangler, I assumed that he’d been invited into the homes of those women. That he’d seduced them, gotten them to have sex willingly—there was no sign of a struggle—and that he’d choked them. Started a sensual game, at least, that was what the women would think at first…and then, when he had them where he wanted, he killed his victims.” She swallowed. “But Bryce liked to watch. Maybe…maybe my profile wasn’t right. Maybe…” She shook her head and seemed lost.
He didn’t like for her to be lost.
Flynn glanced at Sawyer. The other’s man’s gaze was focused on Cecelia.
“Cece?” Flynn prompted.
“This is conjecture.” Cecelia’s chin notched up and she waved her hand toward the computer screens. “So Bryce King was in the same area as the victims, that doesn’t prove he’s the strangler—”
“He left rope in your parking garage,” Flynn growled because he was sure as hell connecting the dots, and he wasn’t liking where they were going. “Under your car. The bastard did that deliberately. I felt him there. Bryce left that rope, no one else.”
“But…why?” She shook her head and gestured toward Elizabeth. “The men don’t have memories of their pasts. Even if…let’s just say…Even if Bryce was the Midnight Strangler, he wouldn’t remember the crimes he committed before he was given the Lazarus formula. He wouldn’t remember those women. He wouldn’t—”
“He might,” Sawyer cut in.
The room got silent. And tense.
“I have some flashes.” Sawyer’s gaze slid to Elizabeth. Softened. “I don’t remember much, but there are some things from my past that have come back to me.”
Cecelia’s hand flew out and pressed to Flynn’s chest. “Do you remember?” Her eyes were wide. “Do you remember your past, Flynn?”
“Not a single thing.” And that was the truth. He’d been told that he and Sawyer had once been best friends. That they’d worked t
ogether before waking up in the Lazarus facility. But Flynn didn’t remember that. He didn’t remember any details about his life before Lazarus. He didn’t have dreams or flashes. He just had nothing.
A darkness that didn’t end.
Hell, he’d even snuck in the old apartment he’d once used in D.C., thinking the place might jar memories for him. It hadn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Cecelia whispered. Her hand started to slip away from his chest.
His hand flew up, caught hers, held tight. Their gazes locked. “Just because I don’t remember, it doesn’t mean Bryce is the same way. Maybe he’s like Sawyer. Maybe he has flashes, too. Maybe the bastard is trying to start his old games again.”
“Uh…” Jay coughed. “Yeah, sorry, but about that…”
Flynn kept his hold on Cecelia but he glanced at the tech guy.
Jay winced. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but we all know that I have some unofficial access to data in this town…”
Because he was a freaking hacker. Flynn narrowed his eyes and waited for Jay to get to the point.
“What time did you find that rope?” Jay asked.
“I found it at a little after eight p.m.”
The rope was currently on Jay’s desk. It was twisted like a snake, waiting to strike. Jay motioned to the rope. “You saw it. Picked it up. You put in your pocket. You took it to Cecelia. Got your prints and DNA all over it…”
“Uh, what are you getting at, Jay?” Elizabeth demanded, voice sharp. “Because I am not liking where this is going.”
Jay raked a hand through his hair. “It hasn’t been announced officially yet, but a woman’s body was found here in D.C. yesterday. Her friend found her body at seven p.m. Seven. A young woman, dark hair, early twenties. No signs of a struggle, but she has ligature marks on her neck.” He blew out a hard breath. “Preliminary indications are that her body was in that room all day long. The ME thinks she was killed the night before, somewhere between midnight and two a.m.”
“Oh, my God,” Cecelia whispered.
“No rope was found at the scene,” Jay muttered, wincing. “And I think we can fucking guess why.”
