by Cynthia Eden
She eased around Flynn so she could gaze straight at Benjamin. She still held Flynn’s arm. “You are so much more than you think.”
“No, I’m fucking less.” He flashed a hard grin. “But who the hell cares?”
She did. They’d been lovers and friends.
Flynn pulled away from her and stalked toward the other man. They were similar heights and builds. “You been feeling some rage lately?” Flynn demanded.
“Only every single day,” Benjamin drawled right back.
“Jealousy?” Flynn bit off.
“Uh, is this about you and Cecelia? I’m not exactly thrilled she picked up with a boring soldier like you. She needs a little more action in her life, if you know what I—”
Flynn lifted the guy up, holding him easily with one hand as Benjamin’s feet dangled.
“And there that shit is again,” Benjamin muttered. “Cecelia, don’t want to alarm you, but the soldier is on some serious steroids.”
“No, he’s not.” And she was going to have to tell Benjamin the truth. Because he was in the web now, Bryce’s web. Bryce knew about her connection to Benjamin. He’d hunted his prey in Sin. He’d waited to attack them at the club. Benjamin could be the guy’s next target. “There’s some stuff you need to know.”
“Ah, Cecelia, surely you’re not about to reveal secrets to me, are you?” Benjamin shook his head. “I thought that was why we got along so well. You didn’t share your darkness with me, and I kept mine safely locked away from you.”
“A killer is coming.” Flynn tightened his grip on Benjamin. “And the bastard can use you in order to get to Cecelia.”
“No one uses me.” Benjamin had gone absolutely arctic.
“Don’t be too sure of that.” Flynn finally let Benjamin go. “This guy can get in your head—the same way he got in the FBI agent’s head. Then he’ll be pulling your strings. He’ll be attacking you.”
Benjamin blinked and his whole expression went blank. “I’m no one’s bitch.” He turned and began storming away. “Finish doing your shrink thing in the alley, then come to my office. Second floor of Sin.”
Flynn glanced at Cecelia.
She stared after Benjamin. He’d believe her when she told him the truth. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d believe her.
“Is he going to freak the hell out?” Flynn asked.
“A definite possibility.” She ducked under the police tape and headed into the alley. The place smelled of garbage and stale cigarettes. She saw marks on the dirty pavement, marks that she knew had been left by the crime scene team. Her steps slowed as she neared the dumpster in the alley. “What happened to the rope?”
“The cops took it.”
“Probably gave it to the FBI.” She stared down at the ground. Just ground. Dirty pavement. She remembered reaching out with her hands. Her nails had broken as she’d clawed and tried to find some kind of weapon. For a moment, she could feel Aaron’s knee in her back. He’d shoved her down. He’d been stronger than she realized.
Her breath eased in and out. She didn’t see anything new, nothing to shine light on what had happened to her in that alley. But being back at the scene wasn’t just about finding new evidence. By coming back, she’d hoped to jog her memory more. Parts of the attack were blurry, hazed by fear and adrenaline. She’d used this technique before, with other people. Other victims. Took them back to the scene of a painful act, gone back to help them break through the fear. To recall memories that might have been repressed.
Did you think I didn’t know you fucked him? Her breath caught in her throat. Aaron’s voice played through her head again and again. She turned toward Flynn, found him watching her with his body tense, alert. “He knew…that we’d had sex.”
Flynn frowned at her. “What?”
“Aaron said rage and jealousy were overwhelming him—Bryce’s rage and jealousy. He knew that we’d had sex.” She hunched her shoulders and hurried back to Flynn. “The attack came just hours after we’d been together for the first time. He knew. He was either close enough to watch us,” she swallowed, “or the bastard was in our heads.”
Before Flynn could speak, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. The screen now sported long, spider web-like cracks across the surface. Souvenirs from her attack in the alley. When she’d hit the pavement, the phone in her pocket had hit, too. Her assistant Mark’s face flashed on the screen—his face and his number. Oh, damn. She should have gone to the office that morning. Everything had just been so crazy, and she hadn’t even called him to—
“Mark, I’m so sorry,” Cecelia began when she answered the call.
“The place is trashed.” Mark’s voice was jerking and sharp. “You…you need to get here.”
“What?”
“I came in…and everything was ripped to hell and back. All of your files were tossed, your computer is gone…” His breath came in quick pants. “Didn’t know if I should call the cops or—”
“Don’t call them!” An instinctive order. But if Bryce had been the one to break in… “I’ll be there soon, okay? But look, go back down to the lobby and wait for me. Do not stay in that office by yourself.” Because if Bryce was nearby, she didn’t want him to attack Mark. “Go, okay? I’ll call you when I’m there.” She hung up. “Mark said—”
“I know.” He caught her arm.
Right. She still sometimes forgot that he could hear every single thing. “I’ll text Ben, tell him that I have to get to my office but that I’ll come back for our talk as soon as I can.” She needed to see Benjamin and tell him about Lazarus, but if Mark was in danger…
She had to protect her assistant. She fired off the text as quickly as she could. Then she and Flynn were rushing away from the alley. Yet even as they left the scene, a shiver slid over Cecelia. She found herself glancing up, staring at the rooftops, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched.
But then again, maybe Bryce had always been watching. Maybe she’d never been safe.
How could you be safe when the man who wanted you dead…when he could already be in your mind?
Chapter Eleven
Emergency at my office. Assistant said place tossed.
“What the hell?” Benjamin Larson demanded as he read Cecelia’s text.
Will return ASAP. In the meantime, be careful. Have to tell you about Project Lazarus.
He fired off a quick text of his own. Don’t want fairy tales. If some piece of shit is gunning for you, I’ll stop him. The soldier boyfriend seemed pretty useless on that score, and Benjamin did owe Cecelia.
She’d helped him when he’d been at his worst freaking point. Most people still thought he was the devil incarnate, but not Cecelia. She’d been his lover and his friend, and he wouldn’t let her be hurt. Not by anyone or anything.
If her office had been trashed, then he’d better get over there. Benjamin shoved away from his desk. Hell, where was her office? He’d have to text and get her address. He marched for the door—
And stopped cold when he saw the tall, dark-haired woman standing in the doorway. Her skin was a soft tan, her curves were killer, and she had the most unusual blue eyes he’d ever seen.
The woman also should not be in his club. The place was shut down. He’d put a guard at the front door, but he’d given orders that only Cecelia and Flynn could come inside Sin. Benjamin froze at the sight of the woman, and his eyes narrowed. “Sweetness, who the hell are you?”
Her smile was gorgeous and sad. “I have no idea.”
Uh, okay. Handle with care. “Did you stay in Sin overnight?” That had happened before at plenty of his clubs. People had a bit too much fun. They passed out and woke up the next day to do the walk of shame.
She shook her head. “I just came in through the front door.”
The hell she had. He growled, “My bouncer—”
“Oh, yes. I knocked him out. Sorry.” She shrugged, not looking overly sorry at all. “But he wouldn’t let me inside, and I needed to
come back here.”
She needed…
“I’m looking for someone. He was here last night, and you’re going to tell me where he is right now.”
He blinked. Did he look like the kind of guy who took orders? Because he sure as shit didn’t feel like that kind of guy. “No, what I’m going to do is show your sweet ass to the door.”
“He’s about your height. Dark hair. Gold eyes. He was at the club last night.” She nodded briskly. “I shot him, but he still got away from me.”
I shot him. At those casual words, Benjamin immediately moved behind to his desk. He made the move nice and easy, as if she hadn’t just put him on high alert.
“Now your heart is racing too fast.” She still stood in his doorway. She blinked once, twice, slowly. As if she were confused. Or as if she were one really sexy robot. “I said the wrong thing, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have mentioned shooting him. That made you nervous.”
His fingers fiddled with the top of his desk. His desk drawer was partially open, and his gun waited inside. Hell, yes, he always kept a gun close. With the kind of trouble that sometimes entered Sin, Benjamin had to be prepared. “What do you want with the guy?”
“I’m supposed to kill him.”
What the actual fuck?
“But…I don’t think I want to do that.”
“Sure…sounds like a good plan.” He offered her a smile. “Killing is never good, you know. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.”
She took a step toward him. “You know who he is.”
“I don’t even know who you are.”
He blinked, and she was right in front of him. She’d moved incredibly, impossibly fast.
Benjamin’s hand shoved into the drawer and he grabbed the gun, but even as he yanked it up, she’d taken hold of his wrist. She snatched the gun right out of his hand and turned it back on him. Benjamin’s jaw dropped.
“Were you going to shoot me?” she asked him. And she sounded as if he’d…what? Hurt her feelings?
“Are you going to shoot me?” Benjamin fired back, instead of answering her question.
She shook her head. “You’re not my enemy.”
“Good to know,” he muttered. “For a minute there, I was confused.”
She frowned at the gun. “I need to find him…the man with the gold eyes. I think he can help me.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Her delicate jaw hardened. “You’re not my enemy, but I will make you tell me what I need to know.”
The hell she would. There was no way he’d tell her that Flynn was with Cecelia, that they were heading to Cecelia’s office—
“Thank you.” She nodded. “I should have gone to the shrink’s place first.”
What? He hadn’t told her a single thing. He’d thought about Flynn and Cecelia, but no words had passed his lips.
“Sorry.” She gave a little wince. “But I can’t have you following me or, rather, trying to follow me.”
The gun slammed into the side of his head. Benjamin pitched forward, falling across his desk.
***
“I don’t know what happened!” Mark rushed toward Cecelia as soon as she and Flynn stepped into the lobby of the office building. “The alarms didn’t go off, but the place is absolutely trashed!”
The guy was twisting his hands together, and his body was practically shaking with terror. Cecelia squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you weren’t in the office when it was ransacked.”
Beside her, Flynn was quiet. Grim. They rode up the elevator together, and when the doors opened, Flynn headed out first. “Stay in the lobby,” he ordered briskly. “I’ll make sure the place is clear.”
She nodded, swallowing. The place didn’t look too bad from where she was standing. Okay, it didn’t look too bad if you didn’t stare too long at Mark’s shattered computer and the files that had been tossed all over his desk.
“Who could have done this?” Mark seemed stunned.
“I don’t know.” But she did know. Bryce. Bryce King could have easily done this.
“Do you think it’s related to the FBI case you’re working?”
That was suspicion number one for her, yes.
“Or do you think…” His voice dropped lower as he asked, “Do you think it’s related to the government work you did?”
Her head turned toward him. She hadn’t told Mark any specifics about her time with Lazarus, and she wasn’t about to make a big reveal to him. “Unlikely.” A lie, but…
“The place is clear.” Flynn was back, looking pissed, eyes blazing. “But your office is totaled.”
Not the news she wanted to hear. Cecelia hurried toward her door.
“Dr. Gregory!” Mark called. “What happened to your voice?” She heard his steps shuffling behind her.
Without answering, she entered her office. Stopped dead. Her place hadn’t just been searched. It had truly been destroyed. Her couch was slashed. Her chairs slashed. Her lamp was smashed, and chunks of broken glass littered the floor. Her picture frames, her diplomas—everything was shattered. Her files littered the floor, but it looked more like a scene of rage instead of some kind of search and grab scenario.
“Are you okay?” Flynn asked her. He’d come to her side, moving silently.
She stood in the middle of her office, in the middle of that absolute chaos, and felt lost. “I was starting over.” She shuffled forward. Her feet slid over the loose papers.
“I checked with building security,” Mark announced after he cleared his throat. “The video cameras went down last night. So there is no footage of this floor. No way to know who might have come inside and done this.”
“I have to figure out what’s missing,” she whispered. “If I find out what was taken, then I can figure out who did this.”
“You may never know.” Mark gave a sad shake of his head. “And I’m not so sure this was about stealing files. I mean, look at this destruction. This is anger. This is hate.” His hands gestured to the chaos. “You know it, too, Dr. Gregory. Basic psychological response to rage—destruction. Someone is angry with you. That person wants you to suffer, so he destroys what you value. Destroys what makes you feel safe. This office was your refuge from Lazarus, and now look what happened.”
Her breath felt icy as she pulled it into her lungs. She hurried back to Flynn. She rose onto her toes and whispered, “Flynn, can you smell any of the intruders?” Her voice was low, meant just for him.
“No. Just your assistant’s cologne. That’s all I get in here.”
That was what she’d feared. She took a step back from Flynn, and she lifted her chin as she faced Mark once more. Mark, the assistant she’d had before Lazarus. Mark, the man she’d immediately hired once she’d decided to open her practice again.
Mark, the man who’d had full access to her office. “I never told you about Lazarus.”
Mark had been staring down at the files scattered on her floor, but at her words, his head snapped up. “What?”
“I never told you that I went to work at the Lazarus facility. I just told you I was doing a project for the government. The facility was top secret. I couldn’t tell anyone about it.”
His mouth opened, closed. Opened again.
Beside her, Flynn stiffened.
A weak laugh escaped Mark. “What? Of course, y-you told me.”
“No.” She shook her head even as she began to advance on him. “I didn’t.” She’d told Aaron. She’d been about to tell Benjamin, but she hadn’t gotten the chance.
“What are you saying? What are you thinking, Dr. Gregory?” Mark’s eyes were wide and stark. “You believe I had something to do with this break-in? That doesn’t even make sense! I have a key to your office! If I wanted to take something, I wouldn’t need to wreck the place.”
Flynn responded before she could. “You’d need to wreck the place if you took something.” Flynn’s voice was low and rumbling. “You’d make th
e chaos to hide your crime, or at least, to buy yourself more time.”
“I didn’t!”
“Maybe you didn’t find everything that you were looking for,” Flynn continued in his dangerously quiet voice. “Maybe you thought that Cecelia would run over here, and you could get her to show you where the files you need are hidden. But she didn’t rush over here alone. She came with me.”
Mark glanced down at the floor. “A boyfriend was never part of the equation.”
His voice…it wasn’t hesitant or shaky. It was cold. Hard. Brutal.
His head lifted and a faint smile curled his lips. He didn’t look like the hesitant assistant any longer. That guise was long gone. His gaze was calculating, his face almost cruel. “I know all about Lazarus. I knew about Lazarus even before you did, Dr. Gregory.”
Cecelia realized that she was staring at a stranger.
“You had to be vetted, of course. Wyman Wright doesn’t allow just anyone to have access to his projects. I was put into your path. I was tasked with gaining your trust. Finding out what made you tick.” His grin stretched. “It was easy enough to learn you were obsessed with killers. With figuring out the darkness that people hid inside. But you were trustworthy. You were dedicated to your job. I told Wyman you’d be an ideal candidate for the position he had.”
No. A dull ringing filled her ears. Mark was her assistant. Her friend.
“Then Lazarus went to hell.” Mark sighed. He was right in front of the doorway. His hands lifted and touched the door frame. “I thought you were dead, too. Gone in the fire, but you escaped. Rose from the ashes like a phoenix. You came back to D.C. You had the balls…” Now he actually sounded as if he admired her. “You had the balls to open your practice again. To just go on as if nothing had ever happened.”
“You came back to work for me.” He’s been lying. This whole time, he was lying, and I didn’t realize it. “Why?” She took another step toward him.
“Cecelia…” Flynn’s voice held a warning edge.
“Because my job wasn’t finished. Wyman can’t let you stay as a loose cannon. Surely you realize that? You’re too dangerous out here.” He shook his head. “You and the Lazarus boyfriend.” His gaze darted to Flynn. “Yeah, buddy, I know what you are. Hard to miss the signs. So why don’t you both just think of me as the clean-up guy.” Then his hand came up, fast, and she saw the gun he gripped in his fingers. A gun that was pointed straight at her. “Sorry, Dr. Gregory—”
