by Cynthia Eden
Her fingers were trembling. Her body held too tightly, too stiffly.
He faced her once more. “The rush. You still have adrenaline spiking through you.”
Her hands fisted. “The shower didn’t exactly stop that. It didn’t do anything to calm me down.”
No. He took a step toward her. “I told you before, I can help with that.” Adrenaline still coursed through his own blood—adrenaline and fury. The rogue had gone after her.
Gabrielle shook her head. “I don’t want a drink. The whiskey didn’t work for me last time.”
Her lips were red and full, and that little quiver of her bottom lip made him want to kiss her, to feel that quiver beneath his own mouth. “Forget the drink,” he said, voice rumbling, “I’ve got something else in mind.”
Something that he’d needed, wanted...
He took another step toward her. She didn’t back away.
But her gaze did drop to his mouth.
“Cooper...”
He loved the way she said his name. Not with fear or hesitation but with need, a yearning to match his own.
His fingers slid under her chin. He tipped her head back. “Once wasn’t enough.” One kiss had done nothing but stir his appetite for her.
They were alone. Safe. Adrenaline could be turned into passion so easily.
His head lowered.
She rose onto her toes and her hands—now unclenched—pressed to his chest.
The first touch of his lips against hers was tentative. Easy. A hard task when the desire pumping through him was dark and demanding.
He wanted her on the bed. He wanted her naked. He wanted to hear her scream his name.
One step at a time.
Because before he got what he wanted, Cooper needed to seduce her.
Her mouth parted beneath his.
He took the kiss deeper. Swept his tongue past her lips and tasted her. Sweet. So sweet. She could easily become an addiction to him.
The kiss grew harder as the desire beat in his blood. His hand slipped from her chin and sank into the rich fullness of her hair.
The bed is so close.
He found himself backing her toward the bed. Still kissing her, only now the kiss was deep and hard and it still wasn’t enough.
He wasn’t sure he could get enough from her.
His mouth pulled from hers, and he began to kiss her neck. Her scent filled his nostrils. Lilacs. His aroused flesh pressed hard against the front of his jeans.
“I don’t...do this...” Her voice was husky. Her nails bit through the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t...I don’t just jump into bed with men I don’t know.”
He stilled at that and looked at her. “You know me.”
“I’ve lived upstairs from you for months.” She licked her lips.
Need sharpened within him.
“But I don’t know you. Who were you before you came here? You have secrets, Cooper. Sometimes, I can all but feel them between us.”
He kissed her again, helpless to do anything else. He kissed her, took her mouth and wanted to take her.
The desire he felt for her was stronger than anything he’d experienced before. Cooper had enjoyed more than his share of lovers. He should be able to hold on to his control easily.
Instead, he could feel it shredding.
Because of her.
“There’s nothing between us,” he said, whispering the words against her mouth. “Right now, there’s me and there’s you, and nothing else matters.”
Not the killer hunting them.
Not his secrets.
“Trust me,” he told her. “I won’t hurt you. You can count on me.”
Her lashes lifted. Her eyes were so beautiful and deep. There were flecks of gold in the darkness of her eyes. As he looked into her eyes, he had the odd feeling that she was seeing into him. Seeing past the mask he wore for others and straight into his soul.
His chest ached.
She’s not like the others.
Cooper kissed her once more, because he had to do it. Kissed her deep and savored her.
Then he stepped back. “When you do trust me enough, you let me know.” The words were low, growling from him. “Because you will reach that point. You’ll see that you can count on me, and I’ll be here. When you’re ready, I’ll be here,” he said again.
She stared back at him. Her lips were flushed, slightly swollen from his kiss. Her cheeks were stained red.
So. Beautiful.
He forced himself to offer her a smile. “And by here,” he said quietly, “I mean the couch. Because I think you need some time.” Before you become mine.
Once they crossed that line, there would be no going back.
She’d changed the rules for him. He didn’t think Gabrielle realized just how intense things could become.
Before his control broke, Cooper headed for the door. His fingers curled around the knob.
“I’ve had one lover.”
That stopped him.
“When I said that I didn’t jump into bed, I meant it.” Her words tumbled out. “I’m not looking to be a flavor of the week with you. I—”
“Sweetheart,” he said this without glancing back at her. His control was barely hanging on. “You’d never be that.” She was in a class all her own. “When we are together...” Hell, yes, they would be. “It’s not going to be about anyone else. No one from your past, no one from mine. It’s only going to be about us. About pleasure.” He opened the door. “You’ll trust me soon enough.”
He left her, because if he stayed even a few moments more, they would be on the bed.
* * *
WHEN THE DOOR shut behind Cooper, Gabrielle’s breath wheezed out.
Wow. She was...
Her eyes closed. She didn’t think she was ready to handle Cooper Marshall.
She had the feeling that he was the kind of guy who just might be able to ruin her for all others.
When he’d been kissing her, when his big, strong hands had been on her, she’d wanted him to ruin her. She’d wanted him to do all kinds of things to her.
It hadn’t been about the adrenaline. It had been about good, old-fashioned lust.
The only thing that had held her back? Fear.
She wasn’t physically afraid of Cooper. Actually, she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her like that at all.
Gabrielle was afraid of the way he made her feel. Out of control. Edgy. Wild.
Those feelings were dangerous.
Cooper Marshall was dangerous.
* * *
THE KILLER WATCHED as the light in Cooper’s bedroom finally shut off. For a while there, those two shadows had gotten close.
Intimately close.
But then one form had left. Cooper.
Playing the gentleman. What a lie.
He was sure Cooper wouldn’t keep up the act for long.
In his experience, Cooper wasn’t exactly a man known for his patience. When Cooper saw something he wanted, he took it.
Just like I do.
He and Cooper had quite a great deal in common. That similarity was why they had worked well together in the field.
They’d battled side by side.
Cooper had even saved his life.
He should have let me die.
That had been Cooper’s mistake. Now, death would come again. Only this time, Cooper would be the one to wind up in the pine box.
Chapter Six
“You can’t do this,” Cooper’s voice rumbled as he leaned over Gabrielle’s shoulder and glared at the computer screen. “If you publish this, it will be like waving a red flag right at the killer!”
Gabrielle glanced up and found him just
inches away from her. Close enough to kiss.
No, no, do not go there.
She jerked her gaze away from his lips. “Other reporters have already scooped me on this case! I can’t sit on the story any longer.”
It was just past 9:00 a.m. She’d given up on the whole concept of sleep quickly enough, and when Rachel had appeared with fresh clothes—Gabrielle seriously owed that woman—she’d wasted no time in rushing down to the Inquisitor’s main office.
Her home computer might have been smashed, but she still had data on file at her workstation.
“No one else,” he said slowly, seeming to force the words out as he glared at her, “is even mentioning anything about a message being written in blood. You can’t—”
“I can,” she cut him off. “I will.”
His eyes narrowed to blue slits. “You’re baiting the killer. You want him to come after you again, is that it?”
“I don’t have a death wish.” She hit Send on the file—it would be on her boss’s computer instantly. With a story this big, she had to get Hugh’s permission to publish. Hugh lived for breaking the big news. He’d probably give her the okay in five minutes flat.
“He was in your home.”
Like she needed the reminder. “I want him stopped.” She pushed to her feet.
He straightened and kept that hot, bright stare on her. “You think using yourself as bait is going to do that?”
“I’m not—”
“Harper!” Hugh’s bellowing voice cut across the room. “My office. Now.”
Wow. That hadn’t even been two full minutes. The boss did like his stories. She brushed by Cooper, slid out of her cubicle, and hightailed it to Hugh’s office. She heard Cooper following behind her, and she saw Penelope Finn’s gaze cut appreciatively to him. Penelope was the lead entertainment reporter, and the woman was always, always, styled to perfection.
Penelope leapt to her feet as they passed her desk. She was wearing a body-hugging dress that matched her golden eyes, and she zeroed in on Cooper—literally blocking him with her body. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said.
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. Typical Penelope. Gabrielle didn’t slow down to rescue Cooper. He was a big boy; he could rescue himself. Besides, her boss stood in the doorway, glaring at her.
Hugh was wearing a stark white shirt that emphasized his coffee-cream skin. Hugh considered himself a master of style, and the guy had been known to charm his way into any and every closed-door meeting in D.C.
But, beneath the charm, a real bulldog lurked.
She loved that about him. After all, Hugh had been the one to teach her everything that she knew about reporting.
“No, we haven’t met,” Gabrielle heard Cooper say flatly to Penelope. “Sorry, but excuse me.”
Then, before she could reach Hugh, Cooper’s fingers closed around her shoulder.
Gabrielle glanced back.
“You can’t go live with that story,” he told her.
“No,” Hugh said, voice still a bellow even though they were about five feet from him. “She can’t.”
The charm certainly wasn’t in effect then.
Jaw dropping in surprise, Gabrielle whirled back toward her boss. “You’re not serious.”
“Dead serious.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My office, Harper, now.”
Definitely no charm.
She stumbled into his office.
Cooper tried to come with her.
Hugh stepped in his path. Cooper was at least a head taller and probably seventy-five pounds heavier than her boss, but Hugh still doggedly blocked his entrance as he studied the younger man.
“Who are you?” Hugh demanded. “And why are you in my newsroom?”
“I’m her partner,” Cooper shot right back. “Where she goes, I go.”
“Is that so?” Hugh let him in the office. His dark, assessing gaze raked over Cooper. “Protection, huh? A bodyguard?” He shut the door behind Cooper, sealing them all inside. “Good.” He stomped toward his computer. “After what I just read, she can’t be safe enough.”
“Uh, she is right here!” Gabrielle barely managed to keep the words below a shout. “And what do you mean, Hugh? I can’t publish the story? It’s a huge story.”
Hugh exhaled loudly. “When are you going to realize, there are more important things than stories? Your life is on the line here.” He shook his dark head. “No, no, I’m not doing it. I’m not going to let you tell the killer you were minutes behind him last night—”
Gabrielle had to laugh at that. “He already knows. Why do you think he broke into my place?”
“Because you’re the next target on his list?”
Hugh’s words made her skin chill. “I’m not.”
“You’re smarter than that. You just don’t want to admit it, because if you do, then you’ll realize that you’re neck deep in danger.” He ran a hand over his chin. “We’ll keep some of the article. The parts that don’t yell ‘Come and get me’ to the killer.”
Her article did not yell that.
“Get a confirmation from Carmichael that we’re dealing with a serial, and we can lead with that. We’ll give him a name, something flashy and scary like the City Stalker, and we’ll—”
She could see red. Literally. “It’s not about making this guy into a celebrity. It’s about catching him!”
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest. “For me, it’s about keeping my reporter safe. Change the story. Take out the part about the message that was written in blood—hell, the cops probably want that kept off the record anyway.”
“But someone out there could know what the message means!” This was insane. And this was not Hugh Peters. Not Hugh Print-It-All Peters.
“In its current form, this story will not be published at the Inquisitor.” His eyes, a shade darker than her own, pinned her. “This isn’t your first rewrite, so just get back to your desk and take care of business.”
She was missing something. “You’ve never backed down from a story before.”
He swallowed. His gaze cut to a silent Cooper.
“Did someone...did someone contact you?” she asked. Crazy but...Hugh truly didn’t back down from stories. “Hugh, do you know what the EOD actually is?”
“Bodyguard,” Hugh muttered, “I’m going to insist that you step out of the room, right now.”
“I’m not moving,” Cooper said.
Her heart was about to burst out of her chest. Hugh knows. “Cooper, I want to talk to Hugh. It’s just the two of us here. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
The faint lines near Cooper’s eyes tightened.
“I’m the paying partner, remember?” she managed.
Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say. His eyes went glacial. “How could I forget?” He turned for the door. “I’ll just go play watchdog from outside.”
She hadn’t meant to make him angry. She’d apologize, mend fences and do whatever. After she found out what Hugh was holding back from her.
The door clicked closed behind Cooper.
“Spill,” she demanded.
Beads of sweat lined Hugh’s forehead. “Are you sure your guard won’t try to listen in?”
No, she wasn’t sure of that at all. Actually, she expected him to at least attempt some good eavesdropping. Gabrielle would be rather disappointed in him if he didn’t.
“What do you know? Tell me, Hugh. After what I’ve been through, I think I deserve to know.”
He crooked his finger, motioning for her to come closer.
Frowning, she maneuvered toward him.
“You’re in over your head,” he whispered.
No way would Cooper be able to eavesdrop on that whisper.
“I’ve dealt with killers before.�
� She tried to sound confident. Like fear wasn’t a tight knot in her gut.
“If the killer is working with the EOD, then he’s like no one you’ve ever faced before.”
He knew.
“EOD...it’s a business?” That hadn’t been the initials for a person’s name, but something else.
“No.” He licked his lips. His gaze darted toward the shut door. “I’ve only heard whispers, because that’s all anyone ever hears. No facts. No proof. Nothing that will ever make it into the press.”
“Hugh.” Impatience hardened his name. “You’re talking in circles, and you’re telling me nothing.”
“The government.”
Hugh had conspiracy theories—a lot of them. She sighed. So much for getting the truth—
“The EOD is a covert unit that works for Uncle Sam. Trained killers. Brutal, cold.”
The killer who’d gone after Lockwood and the others had certainly been brutal. His prey hadn’t even had time to fight back.
“I’ve never heard of the EOD.” She’d been in Washington for seven years. She’d graduated college, then come to the big city.
“You wouldn’t. They’re so far off the radar, most civilians never know about them.”
“But you heard whispers.” An EOD agent. If the killer was as well trained as Hugh was saying, then scaling the side of the apartment should’ve been easy for him. Cooper had said that a man with the right skills would have no problem climbing down those bricks.
The right skills.
“A man came to me with a story once.” Again, his gaze shifted to the door, and he kept his voice low. “He’d been kidnapped off some speck of an island in the Caribbean. He thought for sure his captors would kill him, but then rescue came.”
“This story sounds like it had a happy ending—”
“All seven of his captors died. They were taken out by one man. One. An EOD agent. The guy said the agent moved like a shadow, faster than anything he’d ever seen. Before his captors could fire their weapons, they were dead on the ground.” He sucked in a deep breath. “That’s what they are. Death.”
“It sounds like the agent was saving him—”
“I did some poking around after that case. A message was delivered to me.” His fingers shook. “One that convinced me I wanted to stay away from anything involving the EOD.”
