"So why would the CIA cover for a stalker?"
"They might not be. They might truly believe that Ethan killed himself," Vance reasoned. "The flip side is that maybe they're using the killer to their advantage. Maybe he's been told to make those kills, or those kills are covers for something bigger. Maybe the CIA had no idea what he was doing to Ethan."
She stared at him. "Would Ethan have made those kills—if the CIA ordered him to?"
Vance hesitated and she knew what he wanted the answer to be. But it was "Yes." There was no way around it.
"How much have you investigated Ethan's supervisors?"
"Not at all. Poking around is too much of a red flag."
"What a setup this guy's got," Abby muttered.
"Yeah…" Vance trailed off and looked around almost uncomfortably.
What a helpless feeling this was. Vance must be feeling worse about it, since he was the one actually being stalked. She was just the periphery—the collateral damage. "Are there any studies of men stalking men?"
"Not many," he admitted. "Most of them are based on former lovers."
"Is there any evidence this guy has sexual feelings toward Ethan?"
"No. He seemed to want to be Ethan. But when he was Ethan, for all intents and purposes, it's not like he put the moves on you," Vance pointed out.
"Asexual," Abby pondered quietly. "Or impotent."
"Which could be hiding a lot of rage," Vance said just as quietly and she swore she could feel the pain radiating from him.
Sometimes she forgot how much he must be in mourning for Ethan, how much he was going through. Vance was actively being stalked by the same man who stalked and killed his brother, and he was no closer to a reason why—or a clue as to who the suspect was.
But the stalker was, unfortunately, many steps closer to Vance, and by default, to Abby.
Now, Vance stared hard at her. "I think I should get you home and assign someone different to you."
"No," she said automatically, almost at the same time he started talking, as if she knew what he'd been about to say. It was inevitable that he'd want to protect her. He just hadn't realized that by protecting her himself he'd be bringing her more attention, and more harm.
"Abby, this is ridiculous. You dodged a bullet already. You were out of harm's way, out of this guy's reach and I brought you back in—"
"No, he brought me back in," she pointed out. "He used me to bait you."
"If I leave you alone, then he'll have to find another way in. And he's already in. He doesn't have to use you," Vance countered. "Go into hiding for a month. Shake him off and let him reel a little so I can grab him. If you don't do it for me, do it for Ethan, all right? You know he'd have wanted that."
"And he'd also know I'd never go for that," she told him.
"Fuck me." Vance stood, ran his hands through his hair. "You goddamned have to let me protect you."
She couldn't imagine what he was going through. As a man, he was programmed to honor and protect, and he was in need of protection. It was humbling and scary for both of them, but she'd be damned if she'd be driven away by convention. "I'm going to protect you, dammit. Ethan would want that too, and you're not taking that away from me. If I'd been there for him, maybe…"
Her voice broke. She hadn't realized how much she'd been holding onto the guilt of not realizing what was happening with Ethan, how much he'd been hiding from her. She'd been so wrapped up in her own crap that she couldn't see anything, and Ethan had been too good to her to tell her any differently. "Please," was all she could end with, and then she ended up in Vance's arms, her face buried against his strong chest.
Chapter Sixteen
Finally, she pulled back to stare into Vance's deep, whiskey-colored eyes, and an immediate jolt of arousal surged through him. "Are you only with me because you've got guilt…because you promised Ethan? I can handle that, I really can, but you need to tell me. If this is just to keep me safe, then just keep me safe."
He put his hands on her lower back, holding her in place. "It's not only about keeping you safe, Angel. Hasn't been since the first day I saw you. Got worse when I heard your voice. Worse still when I saw how fucking miserable your job was making you."
"I don't want to talk about my work now. Or yours. There's time for that. There's more than enough time," she murmured as she climbed up him—it was the only way to describe it—and settled herself on his lap, almost at his eye level but not quite. Her fingers brushed his jawline as she stared into his eyes.
Something had changed between them. Their dynamic wouldn't, because that was a natural thing between them. Maybe his guilt over Ethan that he'd been carrying since he'd started watching her had suddenly washed away, replaced with the thought that this—whatever was happening between him and Abby—this was right.
And it hadn't been right for either of them. Not for a hell of a long time.
He leaned his head down and covered her mouth with his, tasting the sweetness he'd missed over the past week. He'd thought he'd never be in this position with her again, never have another chance to hold her.
"Thought I'd lost you," he murmured against her mouth.
"Not even close. I'm hard to get rid of, in case you haven't noticed," she told him, her laugh vibrating against his lips.
Tonight, like it had been the night they'd come here from the bar, was all about them. Nothing—no one else. There'd be time for that later.
He swept her onto the bed, stripping his shirt as she lay there watching. Appreciating.
He couldn't lie to himself. He was angry—at Abby, and at himself, at the whole situation that brought them together and threatened to tear them apart at the same time. All he had was the moment in front of him and he'd be damned if he didn't take it. Being close to her, taking care of her was all part of the promise he'd made. He'd had no idea that what Ethan predicted would come so damned true but he should've known. From the time they were kids, everything Ethan said came true, no matter how much of a disbeliever Vance tried to be.
She wasn't struggling, but rather watching and waiting, readying herself for the next hurdle. He was half proud and half ashamed for having brought her to that point but couldn't argue that it wasn't necessary. She had to stay safe whether he was able to keep her that way or whether she had to do it by herself.
Ethan's words echoed in his ears—Our time here is always limited, brother—don't be so surprised…
Fuck you, E.
And that would be the last time he thought of his brother as he hovered over her. She looked up at him expectantly. Knowingly.
Willingly.
Abby wasn't the type to seek out relationships—or closeness. Especially not on the heels of what was happening with Ethan. She took her friendships seriously, and she'd been through enough hell in her life to understand how precious each one was, and how well each should be mourned.
He lowered his mouth onto hers and kissed her, the way he'd been dreaming about nearly nightly since he'd let her leave the relative safety of the CIA compound. He'd been her stalker for the past six-plus months, but he still couldn't figure out who else was watching them.
She didn't protest as his hands roamed her body. In fact, hers went to his ass, attempting to yank his jeans down without unbuttoning them. He shifted to help her, kicking off his boots as he went, and before he knew it his jeans were off and she was flipping him on the bed so he was naked and pinned under her.
She straddled him and smiled. Ran her hands over his bare chest and he shuddered under her touch, surrendering to it. How this would all end—and whether it would end well—was all up in the air. Tonight, though, was up to Abby.
His skin was hot under her palms, his muscles tense, his arousal pushing against her jean-clad sex. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and his hands went to her breasts, fingering her nipples through her bra. She reached back to unhook it and toss it as he stared up at her.
And then she grabbed his cock and lowered herself onto it, sl
owly—torturously so—while he fisted the sheets so he didn’t slam her down in his impatience to just fucking have her.
Finally, he was fully seated inside her. He propped himself up, dragged himself backward, taking her with him so he could sit up with her in his lap. Then he murmured, "You're mine, Angel. All fucking mine, and I'm not letting you go."
She wrapped around him as they took each other, every thrust of hips upward sending his words home, reiterating them.
He was claiming her. No doubt about it. But she was also doing the same thing to him as she rode him, adding her movements to his in a perfect rhythm.
Yeah, she was claiming him the way she’d tried to before. The only difference was, this time, he was letting her.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Abby slid out of Vance’s empty bed and into the shower. She wasn't offended that Vance hadn't stayed in bed to cuddle. He knew she wasn't the sentimental type. What had happened last night, just like the other times they'd been together, had served to bond them more. She didn't need someone on her every second to prove that.
So she dried her hair and pulled it back, noting that Vance had, at some point, folded her clothes from the night before. She dragged them back on, planning on heading back to her house to change before work.
Work.
Mary.
Dammit.
She was still stewing about all of that, sitting on the edge of Vance's bed, when he came over and sat down next to her—and handed her a mug of coffee.
She accepted it gratefully.
"I'll help you," he started, and when she frowned, he added, "With the Mary shit. I'll help."
"You or the CIA?"
"One and the same, right?"
"A question with a question—that's what I expect from both of you," she muttered. "And no, it's not necessarily one and the same."
"So, which do you want?"
"I'm not sure," she said honestly. She'd been thinking of asking Teige—or Jacoby—to help Mary. Because Vance had enough troubles of his own. "I've got to do this soon. Testifying's not in her best interest."
"It never is," Vance said roughly.
"So what do I do?"
"Talk to her. Be honest about her chances. You can't make the decision for her, but you can give her the information and let the decision be hers," Vance told her. "It's what you would've wanted, yes?"
"Yes," she agreed, thinking back to those days before he had to constantly look over her shoulder. She'd been helpless, dragged along into someone else's nightmare, so she was quite cognizant of and empathetic to her witnesses' predicaments. Especially the kids. She knew what it was like to be considered too young for your choice to matter.
"Mary, we have to talk."
Mary looked resolute. "I almost want to hear about the serial killer shit again, but I have a feeling I won't be that lucky this time."
Abby gave her a small smile and shook her head.
"It's about the trial, right?"
"I'm supposed to prep you," Abby told her.
Mary frowned. "Supposed to?"
"I'm supposed to tell you that you'll be escorted to the courthouse and then you'll testify. At that point…" Abby sighed. "I won't see you again. You won't come back here. Your things will be packed for you."
"But…what about protection?"
"According to the documents, it was contingent on your testimony. There was no explicit promise post-testimony that protection would continue."
"They wanted me alive to convict him but then I'm on my own." Mary sounded both resolved and bitter.
"You can keep this identity, but once your ex is in prison, they'll feel that you'll be moderately safe."
"Right." Mary tightened her arms around herself. "And if I don't testify?"
"Your ex definitely won't be prosecuted. You're the key. But that doesn't ensure that he'll leave you alone," Abby told her honestly.
"If I don't show up for court, he'll have no reason to seek me out though."
"You'd have to run, Mary," Abby reminded her gently. "Because the FBI knows. They'll hold you in contempt. Your protection is contingent upon you helping them."
"Shit." She paused. "If I testify, I can come back here, right? Use this name. I'll just be taking my chances."
"Yes."
"And if I demand protection?"
"You might get it, you might not. And if you do get it, you'll definitely be forced to leave here and lose contact with anyone you've met." Mary's face clouded and Abby figured she was thinking about Josh. "How much does Josh know?" she prodded.
"I didn't tell him about the protection, or who I am. But he suspects my last relationship was bad. That I was abused. I didn't correct his assumptions. He's been…amazing. For the first time, I've found someone good for me and good to me. And now I'm supposed to leave him?" She paused for a breath. "And yet, if I stay, I'm putting him in danger."
"Yes," was all Abby could say. "There's no good answer."
"Why are you telling me all this? Can't you get into big trouble?" Mary asked.
"Yes," Abby repeated. "But it's too important for me not to tell you. You've come really far, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't lay out your options."
Vance met up with Knox while Abby was safely tucked away in her office. He'd been doing surveillance from a couple of blocks over, not wanting to deal with any of her supervisors or fellow marshals noticing him, but he refused to stay that far away.
The diner across the street seemed the best place. He could sit and pretend to work while watching for her out the window. And there was food.
Knox strode in and took the seat across from him in the booth. Vance could tell by his friend's countenance that he'd been heavily in thought, and it was weighing on him.
"Hey, how's Abby?" was the first thing Knox asked, without the usual flirt he'd give to piss Vance off.
"She's better. Less meds and more mobility." Vance motioned for the waitress and he and Knox both ordered lunch—grilled cheese for Knox and a burger for Vance.
"How involved is she?" Knox asked finally, cutting through the small talk of sports and shit right after the waitress brought their drinks.
"Depends on what you mean by involved." He'd been reluctant to do so to her, any more than he had already. Kidnapping Abby was definitely not CIA-sanctioned, but checking her strength for recruiting was. So far, the CIA upper echelon hadn't said boo about what he'd done. Probably thought he was playing along. He tried to shift the subject by asking, "You thinking of going back into the field?"
Knox shrugged. "Maybe. I can't say I'm hating it here at the moment but…"
"You'll get restless."
"People like us aren't meant to stay in one place very long."
He was right, of course. But being with Abby made him want to stay in one place for the first time ever—right by her side.
He didn't tell Knox that. Hell, Knox probably knew, because not much got by him.
"Leila's back in town," Knox finally admitted after the waitress put down their dishes.
"I heard." He took a bite of his burger, chewed thoughtfully, then asked, "Still wary?"
"Cautious," Knox corrected. Vance didn't see much of a difference between the two descriptives, but he supposed that meant Knox had accepted Leila's circling. Vance was fairly certain Knox was doing a lot of circling of his own.
If Leila was going to hurt his friend, Vance suspected it would've happened already.
"Cautious, which is something you're not," Knox suddenly continued.
Vance pushed his food away. "Is this where the lecture comes in?"
"Yes."
"Well go ahead. I'm not stopping you."
Knox frowned. "You've made her a target, V. You showed this guy that she's important to you. You fucked her over as badly as you fucked yourself."
Ethan hadn't let many CIA people in on his issue, but Knox had always been a part of their inner circle. "She knows I'm the object of the stalking," he t
old Knox now.
"So what now?"
"I'll deal with it."
"That's what Ethan said," Knox said quietly. Respectfully. And still, it took everything Vance had not to punch Knox in the face.
Instead, Vance stood and walked away from him, out of the diner and down the block. Everyone was on his side and still, he'd be forced to walk away from all of them, the same way Ethan had to.
And look where it had gotten Ethan.
Vance recalled threatening to follow Ethan to the ends of the earth, but his brother had made that virtually impossible to do, thanks to the jobs he'd chosen. Somehow, the man who stalked Ethan hadn't encountered the same difficulties.
The relationship with Abby was another matter. Ethan had always kept her close, and that never made sense to Vance. Not until the second Vance kissed her, and then it all fell into place. Fucking Ethan and his soul mate bullshit.
"You got her to me, Ethan. Got yourself goddamned killed in the process. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" Vance whispered to the sky.
No one answered.
Chapter Eighteen
Abby went to the office after speaking with Mary. It was early and she needed to shake off the sense that maybe she'd done wrong by Mary, in more ways than one.
But she'd followed her heart, and she'd done it to help Mary protect herself. That was never the wrong thing.
She'd also done the right thing there—she knew that. And so she forced herself to settle in and do some routine paperwork that she'd been behind on. Then she glanced over Mary's newest intake sheet that had her testifying very soon—and the directives that came with it—and once she signed off on it, she chatted with some of her fellow marshals. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was quiet. Almost too quiet, and that raised her antennas, badly.
In fact, she'd been about to call Vance to mention her serious case of the creeps when her cell rang. She grabbed for it and saw it was Mary. Shit. "Hey, what's up?"
"Abby?" Mary's voice was a shaking whisper and Abby was up and moving toward her truck immediately in response.
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