by Cynthia Eden
The pulse beat slow, steady, beneath his fingers.
He brushed back her hair. Her head slumped weakly against his hold.
What in the hell had happened?
His gaze flew around the alley. It was too dark to see much.
And he didn’t hear anyone.
“Gabrielle?” His fingers shifted through her hair. When he found the bump on the side of her head, he swore.
Then he stood, holding her carefully in his arms. She needed help.
“Freeze!” a male’s voice shouted.
He wasn’t in the mood to freeze. He was in the mood to get Gabrielle help.
Light from a flashlight hit him in the face. That light was so blinding that it made viewing the person connected to that voice hard. The man was little more than a shadow.
“Gabrielle?” The guy’s voice roughened. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Nothing,” Cooper growled. “When I found her, she was unconscious. I’m trying to help her.” And you’re slowing me down.
The light came closer.
“I’m not armed,” Cooper told him. That wasn’t true, but the man wouldn’t notice the weapons he carried. They were too well concealed. “We need to get her help.”
He could see the man’s face now. It was the detective from the other night, Lane Carmichael.
“I remember you,” Carmichael said, obviously placing him. “You were at the other crime scene, too.”
Great. Not the connection Cooper wanted the detective to make. If he wasn’t careful, the cops would start looking at him for the kills.
He wasn’t sure his P.I. cover could stand up to their perusal.
Carmichael yanked out his radio and called for backup—and an EMT.
A moan slipped from Gabrielle’s lips. Under the flashlight, her lashes began to flutter. She blinked a few times then seemed to focus on him. “C-Cooper?”
“It’s all right,” he tried to reassure her. “I’ve got you.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “S-saving me...again? You’re making a h-habit of it...”
Yes, he was.
The EMT ran toward him. The man reached for Gabrielle.
For an instant, Cooper had the crazy urge to keep holding her. I don’t want to let her go.
But he never got too close to anyone or anything. That was the way he wanted his life to be. The way it had always been.
He let her go.
As she was taken away from him, Cooper’s shoulders tensed. He was going to find out exactly what had happened to Gabrielle in that alley.
Once more, his gaze swept the area, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
With this killer, I wouldn’t.
The ambulance’s siren blared, and Cooper found himself hurrying toward that sound.
* * *
HE HADN’T BEEN able to resist. The woman had been right there. All alone.
She was the one who kept digging into his life.
So he’d thought it would only be fair that he started to play with her life.
The fact that she was connected to Cooper Marshall was just bonus. The connection made things even more interesting.
I can use her.
But not yet. She didn’t matter enough. Not yet.
He whistled as he walked down the street. Plenty of tourists were still out. Even this late, the streets were full of people.
It was easy to blend with those people. To walk right past the overworked cops.
Cooper had climbed into the ambulance. He was playing hero. That wasn’t a role well suited to the man.
He and Cooper were a lot alike. That was why Mercer had Cooper hunting him.
Darkness clung to them both. They were loners. Killers.
In the end, though, only one of them would survive this game.
It wouldn’t be Cooper.
Pity. He’d once called the man friend.
Now, he just thought of Cooper Marshall as a target.
Chapter Three
Gabrielle took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her skirt. Then she lifted her hand and knocked soundly on Cooper’s door.
She had a proposition for him, one that she very much hoped he’d accept. She wanted—
The door swung open. Only Cooper wasn’t the person standing on the other side of that door.
A very pretty woman with glass-sharp cheekbones and shoulder-length black hair stared back at Gabrielle.
A date. He’s on a date. The kiss—the one she ridiculously thought about far too much—had been fake. As good-looking as Cooper was, of course, the guy had a pretty girlfriend.
“Can I help you with something?” The woman asked. Her voice was smooth. Friendly. Her smile was a little uncertain.
“I was looking for Cooper.”
“He’s in the shower—”
The floor could truly open up and swallow her. She’d been indulging in some serious fantasy time with Cooper, and he’d been...busy...with this lady.
“—but you’re welcome to come in and wait for him, if you’d like.” The woman backed up, pulling the door open a few more inches. “You’re his neighbor, right? The reporter?”
She didn’t want to cross that threshold. She didn’t want to, but Gabrielle still needed Cooper’s help. “Yes. I am.” She offered her hand. “Gabrielle Harper.”
The woman’s shake was firm and warm. “I’m Rachel.”
You weren’t supposed to dislike people you didn’t know. She’d just met pretty Rachel. Rachel seemed friendly. Rachel also seemed to be eyeing her with a gaze that was a little too assessing.
Then Cooper appeared. He strode down the hallway, a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. No shirt. His hair was wet. Fresh from the shower.
When he saw Gabrielle, he came to a very fast and hard stop.
“Company,” Rachel murmured as she dropped Gabrielle’s hand. A faint smile curled her lips. “I was just getting acquainted with your nice neighbor.”
Cooper’s blue gaze narrowed. Then he started walking again, a determined stride that carried him right to Gabrielle. “How’s your head?” His hands lifted, as if he’d touch her head. “I’m sorry I left you at the hospital—I’m not family, so the doctors wouldn’t let me stay with you.”
She caught his hands, flushed. “I’m fine. My dad always did say that I had a hard head.”
He didn’t smile. “You were unconscious in that alley. When I first saw you, I was afraid that you were dead.”
She was still holding his hands in front of his girlfriend. This scene was so awkward. She stepped back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt when you had company. I can come back later.” She sidled toward the door. “It was, uh, nice to meet you, Rachel.” Total lie.
Cooper gave a rough bark of laughter. “Rachel isn’t company. She’s—” But then he broke off, frowning. “Wait, who do you think she is?”
That was a weird question, but Gabrielle blurted, “Girlfriend?”
Rachel was the one to laugh then. “He should be so lucky.” She bent and scooped up a designer bag. “We’re just friends. No worries on that score.” She winked at Gabrielle. “Maybe that makes it nicer to meet me?”
It did.
Rachel inclined her head toward Cooper. “And maybe you can meet up with me and Dylan later? I know he’d love to get an update on you.”
Cooper gave a quick nod. “Will do.”
It had to be her imagination, but Gabrielle could have sworn the enthusiasm in his voice was faked.
Rachel slipped away a few moments later, and Cooper locked the door behind her.
Gabrielle’s hands twisted in front of her. It had been almost two days since she’d last seen him. She’d t
hought about him plenty during that time.
Especially when the flowers arrived at the hospital—lilacs, her favorite. There hadn’t been a card, just the flowers.
“You sure that you’re okay?” He took her elbow and guided her to the couch.
She’d be better—less distracted—if he put on a shirt, but Gabrielle nodded. “I needed to thank you, both for finding me in that alley and for the flowers. I, um, lilacs are my favorite.” She wore a lilac-scented body lotion, because she loved the smell so much.
His blond brows lifted. “How do you know they were from me?”
She blinked. Embarrassment burned through her. Since she wasn’t dating anyone, she’d just assumed they were from him. “I—”
He laughed. “You sure are pretty when you blush. And, yes, they were from me.” His fingers brushed back a lock of her hair. “I’m glad you liked them.”
She had those lilacs upstairs, sitting in a vase on her kitchen table. Every time she looked at them, she smiled.
But you’re here on business. Don’t get distracted. Gabrielle cleared her throat. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
His hand lowered. She was hyperconscious of the strength of his body next to hers. “Sure. Give me just a minute, okay?” He rose and disappeared down the hallway.
She didn’t move. She wanted to move. She wanted to pry and search—
Hold that curiosity back.
She stayed locked to the couch. He returned quickly, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. The man certainly seemed to enjoy wearing black.
“I was about to make some dinner. Want something?”
Gabrielle shook her head.
A half smile lifted his lips. “Come on, I make a mean spaghetti. It’s a recipe I stole from Rachel. Her family’s Italian, and no one does spaghetti better.”
Her stomach growled.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.
Then he headed into the kitchen. She heard pots and pans clanking. Gabrielle rose and followed after him. “I didn’t come here so that you would fix me dinner.”
He already had the water set to boil. Tomatoes were spread out on the counter.
“That’s right,” he said easily. “You came here to ask me questions. So ask.”
While he cooked? She’d expected something a little more...businesslike.
“Ask.” He sliced the tomatoes. Fast and with almost fanatical skill. She’d never seen anyone be so good with a knife.
“I...um...” She exhaled slowly. Stop being frazzled with him. “Did you see anyone else in that alley with me?”
He stopped slicing. He glanced at her, held her gaze. “It was dark. I could only see you.”
That didn’t mean that no one else had been there. “Did you hear anything?” Gabrielle asked carefully.
He dropped the pasta then came toward her while the sauce simmered. “No, I didn’t hear anything.” He propped against the counter and studied her. “Why?”
“Because I don’t remember falling.”
“After a head injury like yours, I know it’s common to forget—”
“What I do remember,” she said, speaking quickly and cutting through his words, “is a man’s voice.”
“What?”
“I told Lane—Detective Carmichael, but he said the alley was searched thoroughly, both before and after my ‘accident,’ and there was no sign of anyone else there. Anyone else other than you, anyway.”
Lane wasn’t exactly a fan of Cooper’s. In fact, he seemed pretty suspicious of Cooper. But then, Lane was suspicious of most folks. That was his nature.
“If you’re trying to ask me if I slipped into the alley and slammed your head against a wall...” She saw Cooper’s knuckles whiten as he clenched the edge of the countertop. “The answer is no, I didn’t do that.”
Gabrielle quickly shook her head. “That wasn’t the question I was asking. I know you didn’t do it. You’re the guy who keeps rushing in to save me, not hurt me.”
He blinked. A furrow appeared between his brows. “That’s a whole lot of trust to give someone. You don’t know me that well.”
“I know you well enough to realize you aren’t a killer.”
He gazed steadily back at her. “Do you?”
What kind of response was that? It almost sounded as if he were trying to scare her. “Look, it wasn’t your voice.”
Cooper held up a hand. “You’ve lost me.”
“I remember hearing a man’s voice. It wasn’t your voice.”
Now there was doubt in his blue eyes. Lane had looked at her with the same doubt when she’d tried to explain this situation to him.
His hand fell back to his side. “There was a lot going on that night. It would be easy to get confused. Especially with that bump on your head.”
“A minor concussion.” She waved it away.
He stepped from the counter and caught her hand. “You don’t shrug away an injury like that. Head injuries can be dangerous.”
When he touched her, her heart beat faster. An electric current seemed to run through her body. Just from a touch. “That’s why I stayed in the hospital. To make sure everything was okay.” And because her boss at the paper had insisted on it. Hugh had told her she either stayed or she looked for a new job.
He didn’t take kindly to his reporters being hurt.
She didn’t take kindly to being hurt. “I know what I heard.”
His gaze turned guarded. “Then tell me.”
“A man grabbed me in that alley. He told me that I was in the wrong place.” The memory of that rasping voice rolled through her mind. “And then he said...not yet.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t remember his face?”
“I remember the feel of his hands grabbing me. I remember the rasp of his voice, but his face?” If only. “No, I don’t remember that. I’m not even sure if I saw him. I was hoping that maybe you’d seen something.”
“You were the only thing I saw.”
He turned away from her. Cooper spent a few moments in silence as he finished preparing their meal.
“It could’ve been a mugger,” she said to his back, as he reached for some plates. “I didn’t have a purse with me, so maybe that’s why he ran after I passed out.”
“It could have been.” He shut the cabinets with a rough motion of his hands.
“It could also have been the killer.” That was her fear. Her suspicion. “I think he escaped the apartment by climbing down the fire escape. He fled through that alley. Maybe he dropped something. Maybe he had to go back for it.” She followed him to the table. “Or maybe he was just one of those guys who enjoys going back to the scene of the crime. Someone who likes to watch the cops spin their wheels and come up with nothing.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “Is that what the cops have?”
She eased into the seat. “Lane says there aren’t any suspects. No prints, DNA or any other evidence was left at the scenes.”
He sat across from her. He picked up his fork.
“I went back to all the crime scenes—” Gabrielle began.
The fork clattered against his plate.
“I didn’t break in,” she rushed to clarify, realizing how he must have interpreted her words. “I looked behind the buildings. Kylie Archer’s place had a fire escape, too. The killer could easily have escaped on it.”
“Lockwood didn’t have a fire escape.”
“No, he didn’t.” The spaghetti smelled fabulous. “But then again, maybe that’s the reason why Lockwood’s front door was smashed in. The attacker didn’t have any other way to get inside, so he had to use force there.”
Cooper ate in silence.
She took a bite of the spaghetti. He hadn’t been l
ying. It was fantastic. “I’ll have to make you one of my cherry pies,” she said, sending him a nervous smile. “You did dinner, so I can do dessert.”
His head tilted. His eyes heated, the blue getting even brighter. “Sounds like a date.”
“I—” She nearly choked on the spaghetti. “I have a proposition for you.”
That half smile flashed again. Did he have a dimple in his cheek? It looked like he did.
Sexy.
“I’d love to hear the proposition.”
He made it sound...hot. It wasn’t. She put her fork down. “I want us to work together.” She tried not to let the words come out as desperate.
He kept eating.
“I think we could make a good team. We could keep investigating the cases and find the killer—”
“I’m not in the market for a partner.”
Okay. He was going to make her lay everything out for him. She’d have to show that desperation, after all. “But I am in the market for some protection.” Because she was afraid, and Gabrielle didn’t want to let the fear stop her from doing her job. “I think someone has been watching me. I think he has been watching me.”
* * *
“TELL ME AGAIN...” Dylan Foxx began as he narrowed his eyes on Rachel Mancini. “Why is Cooper having a cozy dinner with the reporter? He’s supposed to be keeping her out of this mess and not—”
“—seducing her?” Rachel finished. She’d seen the way Cooper looked at the other woman. She knew exactly what was on his mind.
Dylan shut the door of his office. They were in the EOD headquarters, a place most civilians would never visit. Actually, most civilians would never even know of its existence.
The EOD was a hybrid organization, one composed of former members of various military branches. The EOD had been founded and was still led by Bruce Mercer. The EOD was far off the books, and the agents took jobs that no one else could handle.
Jobs that often ended in violence. Death.
The EOD agents were the ones who went out after the hostages that couldn’t be rescued. They were the ones who eliminated the most dangerous threats in the world.
