Another shrug, but this time her gaze skittered from his. “Don’t criticize my organizational style, Cole. It works for me.”
He dumped the eggs and spinach in the pan and went to work on the cheese. “Home should be a respite, Eden. A place to escape.”
“Given my front door may as well have a giant bull’s-eye painted on it, I think we can agree that’s no longer an option.” She got up and opened the hand-carved bread box on the counter—a Christmas gift from him years before—and pulled out a loaf of sliced sourdough. She dropped a couple of pieces into the toaster. “So what’s the plan? You moving in?” She leaned her arms on the counter and watched him stir the eggs. “If so, my guest room will need some, um, fixing up.”
When he glanced at her she grinned and batted her lashes at him.
“Don’t do that, Eden.” Cole shook his head and switched off the stove to let the residual heat finish the eggs.
“Don’t do what?”
“Pretend as if what happened last night didn’t scare you.” It sure had scared him, and Cole didn’t scare easily. “It’s me, remember? I can read you like a book. You’re spooked, which means you’re doing what you always do when you get scared. You deflect with humor and sarcasm, and when that doesn’t work, you’ll start insulting me and anyone else who tries to help you just to drive us away.”
She inclined her head, her thick sandy-blond hair falling around her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t tempt him as much as it did. Intense blue eyes sparked like the center of pure fire, where the oxygen barely kissed the air. “What kind of book am I?”
The kind he couldn’t put down. The kind that kept him up nights. The kind he shouldn’t be reading. He pulled the pan off the heat and faced her, moving in so she was forced to straighten and step back. For an instant, he found himself at the warehouse again, looking down at her on that frozen floor. It had been the longest moment of his life, waiting for her chest to rise, and when it did, he’d almost wept.
Now here she was, standing in front of him, defiance personified, licking her full lips and forcing herself to meet his gaze as he took one more step closer.
“Cole.” She pressed a hand against his chest, the warmth of her touch seeping through his shirt and reminding him that she, that he, was still very much alive. “What’re you doing?”
“Not sure I know.” But he wanted to find out. He’d almost lost her, almost lost this chance with her he’d been thinking about for so long... He skimmed his fingers over the bandage on her wrists, unable to erase the image of the chains that had been there.
Cole lifted his hand, cupped her chin in his palm and leaned down, his eyes scanning her face as she searched his, confusion marring her brow as he dipped his head, and after he heard a soft sigh escape her mouth, he kissed her.
Fire and spice. The heat of her, the feel of her mouth touching his was everything he’d have thought it would be, if he’d let himself dwell on it long enough. She didn’t shrink from him, didn’t withdraw. Instead she ran her hand up his arm until her fingers gripped his shoulder, kneading as he deepened the kiss and tasted her.
The sound that erupted from her throat reminded him of a cat on the prowl, hunting, claiming, and as his lips teased hers, for that moment, everything he had to worry about faded.
“Cole,” she murmured against his mouth when he raised his head.
“Hmm?” He pressed his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and held on to the feeling for as long as he could.
“Thank you for saving my life.”
“Yeah.” And there it was. Gratitude. The conciliatory acceptance and silent confirmation that their kiss had been nothing more than the aftereffect of a potentially life-changing event. “Well...” He cleared his throat and stepped away. Well, hadn’t that just been a mistake of epic proportions. “You did your part. You stayed alive.”
“It’s what I do.” The smile she gave him seemed strained. “Which is why you don’t have to worry about me.”
“I will always worry about you,” Cole said as he pulled two plates out of the cabinet and dished out the eggs. “I made a—”
“I know. You made a promise to Logan to always look after me.” Was it his imagination or was there a trace of bitterness in her voice? Hard to tell since she’d turned to retrieve the butter from the fridge. “After last night I’d say you’ve more than lived up to your end of the bargain. Whatever your plan is for protecting me, if it includes moving in here—”
“I didn’t say I’m moving in.” The idea of sleeping on that backbreaker of a couch of hers was enough to have him reevaluating his career choice.
“Oh.” Her shoulders straightened and her grin returned as if they’d done nothing more than talk these last few minutes. “That’s a relief. You and I both know I can take care of myself.”
“Open your freezer and say that again,” Cole snapped. “I meant what I said. After you finish eating, you’re going to go upstairs to pack and then you’re coming home with me.”
“To the boat?” Eden squeaked. “I hate the water. You know that. And that...boat of yours is a death trap. Besides, I bet you don’t even have internet access out there.”
“As if that’s what you should be worried about right now.” If it wasn’t for that stupid blog of hers she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. All the more reason to lock her away...
“Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I totally need to post an update to let everyone know I’m okay.”
“Eden—”
“He’s not driving me out of my home.” She actually sounded...hurt. “I realize it’s not much to look at,” she continued. “That to you it’s a jumble of boxes and junk, but this is my space. Mine. Leaving would be admitting he’s won, and neither you nor I would ever do that.”
“This isn’t about winning or losing, Eden. And it’s not about forcing you out of your home. This is about your life.” His phone rang and it instantly drove the rest of his lecture from his mind. She smirked as if she’d been saved by the bell. “We’re not done, Eden. Hey, Jack. What’s up?”
“Agent Simmons is here.” Jack’s voice had lowered to the point that Cole had to strain to hear. “Something about you absconding from the hospital with the witness in an ongoing investigation.”
“My investigation,” Cole muttered. Unless something had changed. “My witness.” He glanced at Eden, who made no pretense about eavesdropping as she sat at the counter and propped her chin in her hand. “She needs food and a good night’s sleep.”
“Says you,” she grumbled and returned to the toaster.
“Yeah, well,” Jack said. “That sounds fine, except our friendly FBI interloper is about ten seconds from demanding Eden’s address. So if perchance you’re inclined to bring her in, and she can give her official statement—”
“Tell him we’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
Eden glanced over her shoulder, her grin fading as her eyes narrowed. “Bring me where first thing in the morning?” she asked after he had hung up.
“The station. To make an official statement. Don’t let me forget to stop for doughnuts on the way. Half the department is covering for us right now by playing up the damsel-in-distress story. Not so much butter, please.” He plucked the knife out of her hand and snagged his toast.
“What damsel-in-distress story?” She shot to her full height and pinned him with that testosterone-draining stare he’d become immune to years ago.
“The one that kept the FBI from questioning you in the hospital.”
“You mean the FBI really is involved?” She blinked. “That wasn’t a bluff?”
“Some things I don’t bluff about.” Suddenly, putting her in a room with Simmons didn’t seem like such a bad idea to Cole. If he couldn’t get through to her about the danger she was in, maybe
the FBI agent could. “I don’t get it, Eden. It’s like you want this maniac to come after you.”
“Maybe I do.” She stuck a butter-covered thumb in her mouth. “Maybe that’s the method to catch him. I hit a nerve, Cole. Pushing him like I did got a reaction and now we have new evidence to work with.”
“Is that your way of saying last night was worth it? Or is it a warning you’re about to let him know what your next step is? Allie’s right. You do have an annihilation fantasy.”
“Allie’s biased.”
“Allie’s a smart woman,” Cole countered. “And she’s not wrong. But I was.”
“About what?” Was that excitement in her eyes?
“It’s not the Iceman I have to worry about.” He dumped the dirty pan in the sink, his resignation matching decades of pent-up frustration and concern. “The only person I have to protect you from is yourself.”
And that would be the far more difficult task.
Chapter 6
“Your talents do not extend to sarcasm.” Eden took a small bite of toast to ease her queasy stomach as she carried her plate to the breakfast bar and claimed a stool. Diving into the ice cream face-first hadn’t been her best idea, but she’d made a promise to herself. “This is my job, Cole. It’s what I do.”
“Taunting serial killers isn’t exactly on the Fortune 500 list. Any normal person, even a reporter, would take being abducted as a sign to back off or at the very least ask for assistance. If for no other reason than to do what you have to in order to stay alive.”
“I haven’t been normal since I was nine years old.” No matter how much time passed, the pain never diminished. She hated the familiar silence that followed as Cole no doubt tried to find the words that would make things right. But those words didn’t exist.
“Not everything in your life has to circle around to Chloe, Eden. Nothing you or Simone or Allie do will ever bring her back.”
From anyone else she’d loathe the sympathy, even challenge it. No one, save the people left behind, could ever understand or contemplate the emotions the murder of a nine-year-old conjured. Those left behind included Chloe’s parents, her siblings and the three friends who had to go on without her. But this was Cole; the same Cole who had tugged on Chloe’s pigtails to pry a gap-toothed smile out of her when the classroom bully taunted her on the playground. After he’d given the bully a taste of his own medicine. He’d also witnessed the aftermath of Chloe’s murder, stood silently behind Eden along with Logan, Simone and Allie when they’d been told their friend was no more. Even still, he’d never truly gotten what that night—and ensuing days—had done to them. Done to her.
How could he when Eden hadn’t been honest with anyone, not even Simone or Allie, when it came to that night. Eden’s shame, the guilt, the insurmountable grief had become a part of her, settling inside her as her constant companion.
Instead of admitting the truth, of accepting responsibility for her part in the tragedy, Eden had refused to spend her life being afraid of whatever—and whoever—lurked in the shadows.
Whoever she was supposed to be before Chloe’s death would forever remain a mystery. She didn’t possess Simone’s patience or logic to venture into law. Eden lacked the compassion and curiosity Allie exemplified to spend her life exploring behavior and treating the aftereffects.
Instead Eden had found solace in true-crime books, in crime journals and newspapers, in blogs with a leaning toward justice for victims. Words became her weapon of choice. Pushing for answers, speaking for those who had lost their voice, demanding justice through whatever media she had available to her had become as essential to her life as the oxygen she breathed. If Cole didn’t understand that...
“I’m well aware Chloe’s gone, Cole.” She chose her words with care. “I see them lowering her casket into the ground every night before I go to sleep.” When she did sleep. She flipped chunks of spinach free from the cooling eggs, clenching her fist around the fork when her hand shook. “The fact her killer is still out there drives me every moment of every day. Cases like hers shouldn’t be cold. They shouldn’t be forgotten. As far as your precious law enforcement is concerned, her case and dozens of others are as dead as the victims. And yes, it’s a gamble whether I learn anything new, but sometimes, like last night, sometimes I hit the jackpot.”
“You winning the jackpot shouldn’t include me having to identify your body in the morgue.”
“Wow.” She swallowed hard and dipped her chin to hide her cringe. “Melodramatic much?”
“Only when it comes to you. Now eat.” He tapped his fork against her plate.
“It’s cold.”
“Then you should have stopped running your mouth. These people, these killers, they aren’t worth your life, Eden.”
“Maybe not.” Or maybe they were. “But it’s not your decision, is it?” She forced herself to stare into the handsome face that had been a presence in her life for longer than she could remember. “It’s my choice. This is my life, and as far as I’m concerned, catching this guy is worth any price I have to pay. The sooner you accept that, the better. I’m going to take this upstairs with me. I need a shower.” And about ten hours of sleep to kick the sluggish feeling still swamping her head. “And then tomorrow I’m getting back to work.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond. Anything he said would only continue the circular argument they’d been having for the better part of a decade. The one that had started when she’d announced her plans to double major in journalism and criminal psychology months before she’d even graduated from high school. About the time Cole had entered the police academy. How long ago that all seemed now.
Eden headed upstairs to her bedroom, dashing the final steps into the bathroom before she slammed and locked the door. She rested her forehead against the wood, reaching to set the plate on the sink, but she missed. As she turned, she watched—as if in slow motion—the plate drop and shatter, splattering eggs and bits of spinach on the black-and-white-checkered tile.
She clenched her fists and pounded them against her thighs, the little she’d eaten swirling in her stomach like a sickening cyclone.
She stumbled to the shower and wrenched open the faucet, setting the water to hot as the first sob erupted from her lips.
She ripped the clothes from her body and shoved them into the trash, boots, underwear and all, before she stood underneath the water. Eden slid down the wall to the tiled floor as her body revolted, endless hours of pent-up fear and rage bubbling to the surface. The harder she fought, the more painfully her muscles contracted. Curling her knees into her chest, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound and heat of the water coursing over her. Instead all she felt was that jab of the needle followed by the darkness.
Even in the steam of the shower, she could feel the dry, icy air of the meat locker coating her skin, the stinging pain rocketing through her extremities. The image of dead eyes staring at her, lifeless gazes, parchment-thin discolored faces and mouths contorted in a silent shriek only she could hear.
She jumped at the sharp knock on the door.
“Eden?” Cole called. “Are you all right? I heard a crash.”
Eden squeezed her eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. She cleared her throat and swallowed. “I’m fine.” The two words scratched her throat raw. “Just dropped the plate. I’ll be out in a bit.” Her body drained with the effort it took to call to him.
“Okay.” A moment of silence. “I’ll be downstairs.”
Doubt clung to his voice. He didn’t believe her. She didn’t believe herself. Cole was right. Simone and Allie were right. She’d been reckless, stupid even, drawing attention to herself by taunting a killer. She’d been pushing boundaries for months—years. With one killer after another. How could she be surprised she’d eventually have to answer for it?
Re
ality had shifted in the last twenty-four hours. This killer was different. The Iceman wasn’t someone who had murdered out of passion or revenge or even for money or power. He didn’t have any motive except whatever cause sat in his psyche. This one was...smart. He knew where she lived, knew her routine, one she’d become lazy in varying. He’d been to her house. Her stomach dropped. He’d touched her things, her purse, her phone, her car...stood in her yard.
She scooted forward on the shower floor, placed her head under the steaming spray and forced herself to keep calm. “Control,” she repeated. Control was all that mattered; it was what kept her sane. She’d had it, she’d maintained it, hanging in the locker, trapped in that hospital bed and even for those terrifying few seconds it had taken to make herself walk through her front door less than an hour ago.
She’d done it all until...
Eden shoved her fingers into her wet hair. Until Cole had kissed her. No. She couldn’t deal with this now. Didn’t need to or want to and yet...
“Stop it! Just stop it!” She struggled to her feet, turned down the hot water and braced her hands on the wall of the shower. She’d deal with this—the consequences of her actions—as well as she could. If that meant checking every lock in the house a hundred times, if it meant installing a security system or even digging her brother Logan’s old service pistol out of its lockbox from the guest room closet, so be it.
Serial killers, criminals, the darkness of the human mind? Those she could deal with.
But Cole Delaney kissing her?
That was something else entirely.
* * *
“I’ll be done in a minute.” Eden’s fingers had gone numb from clutching the pen so hard.
When whoever opened the door to the interview room at the police station didn’t respond, Eden glanced up and found a tall, older, distinguished man watching her.
She caught a slight hint of irritation on the man’s face. His solid jaw was clenched, his posture forcibly relaxed as he leaned against the door frame and slipped a hand into the pocket of his well-tailored navy suit pants. “Let me guess.” She ducked her chin, noting the power-red tie. “Agent Simmons? I’m just finishing my statement now. Would have taken me half the time if they’d let me type it.” Cole and his addiction to procedure. One day if he didn’t bend, he’d snap. “Not to mention it would have saved me from carpal tunnel. Cole said you wanted to question me?”
More Than a Lawman Page 5
