by Cynthia Eden
“Cameron wouldn’t use his credit card. He’d know that you’d find him instantly that way. This guy... Don’t you see? He wanted us to come to the shop. He wanted us here.” She looked around once more. “Is he watching now?” Her voice dropped.
His stare shot around the street.
“He didn’t know where I was.” Her voice was soft. Almost sad. “That’s why he said...found you. He didn’t realize where I was, not until today.”
No, no, shit, he didn’t like where this was going, but Blake knew—
“The man in that video wasn’t Cameron, but I think it was someone who admired his...work. Someone who admired him.”
Fuck. Cameron had been a total mind screwer. Had pulling in another killer been part of his sick “experiment” all along?
“Cameron vanished. I vanished. And the perp in that video was just left with a whole lot of rage. He wanted to take that rage out on someone.”
Every muscle in his body ached because his fury was so strong. “You.” The perp had mentioned her in the video. He’d ordered that champagne for her... Agent Dark.
Her beautiful eyes stared up at him. “I left DC and cut all ties. Maybe that perp couldn’t find me. He knew, though, that if anyone was aware of where I’d gone, if anyone could find me...”
No, no, hell, no. Blake swallowed. “It would be me.”
“You come to town—” her voice was a whisper “—and within hours, Cameron’s credit card is used. This guy picks the champagne that he knows Cameron favored, and he sends me a message.”
Found you.
Her breath sighed out. “I think this guy—whoever he is—I think he followed you here.”
“Samantha...”
“I think he killed Kristy Wales—made the video—I think he did it all so that he could catch the FBI’s attention.”
The son of a bitch sure had caught it.
“Then he waited. He watched and he...hunted.” Once more, she peered around the street, as if searching for the killer. “He’s still hunting. Because he’s found the prey he wants. He’s found me.”
He was the one to lunge forward and lock his hands around her shoulders. “You’re saying that bastard came here to kill you?”
“Kill me...or torture me into telling him what he wants to know.”
“Just what the fuck does he want to know?” He glanced back through the shop window. Tammy White hadn’t moved.
“Where Cameron is. He wants Cameron. As he said in the video, I screwed everything up. Now he wants to set it right.”
By hurting her? By killing her? Hell, no. That couldn’t happen, and suddenly the control he’d always fought to keep with her, it shattered.
She wasn’t FBI. They weren’t partners. There were no rules stopping him from taking just what he wanted.
The one thing he wanted? The one thing he needed desperately?
Her.
Samantha. She’s what I need.
And she was the woman he’d just put in danger.
CHAPTER FOUR
“LET ME GET this straight.” Captain Roger Lewis steepled his fingers just beneath his chin. His dark eyes were sharp and hard as they swept over Blake. “You want me to do a full-scale manhunt because you believe I’ve got a potential serial killer on the loose in my town?”
Beside Blake, Samantha stiffened. He saw her tense from the corner of his eye, but he kept his attention focused on the local police captain. After he’d talked to Tammy White, he’d known that he needed to bring the local authorities in right away.
“Cameron Latham?” Lewis’s eyebrows rose. “That bastard is here?”
Lewis was an older African American man, probably in his early sixties, but still fit and strong. Intelligence glittered in his gaze, and the guy hadn’t minced words when he brought Blake and Samantha into his small office.
But the way he talked about Latham...the way the guy’s stare had just cut toward Samantha... Why do I feel as if I’m missing something here?
Blake cleared his throat. “The Bureau tracked the call that the suspect made—the call came from here in the city. The man who used Cameron’s credit card is here,” Blake stated. He was in Fairhope and he was hunting. “You need to alert all of your patrols to be extra vigilant. This man is extremely dangerous. He’s killed before.” Kristy. “And I think he’ll kill again.” He exhaled. “Because Cameron Latham’s credit card was used in this city, we have to operate under the assumption that he may be present. I’m not saying a copycat isn’t at work, I’m saying we need to follow all precautions. Your men should receive an immediate description of Latham, and they need to step up their patrols in the area.” Four months ago, everyone had known about Latham, but people—even law enforcement officials—had short memories.
Lewis’s gaze cut to Samantha. “Do you think it’s a copycat or is the bastard here?’
She inclined her head toward him. “I think we’re dealing with an incredibly dangerous man. A man who wants to emulate Cameron Latham. But we can’t afford to overlook any possibility. It wouldn’t be safe to do that.”
“Son of a bitch.” Lewis raked his hand over his face. “I’m in a small town for a reason. This shit isn’t supposed to happen here.” He rose. “I’ll alert my men. And if there is anything else I can do to help you, say the word.”
It was always so much easier when the local authorities cooperated.
Blake rose and offered the other man his hand. “I appreciate that.”
Lewis had a strong shake. Very strong. “I trust Samantha’s judgment.”
What?
The captain inclined his head toward her. “You were her partner at the Bureau. She told me...you’re a good man.”
No, he wasn’t. Not always.
“It’s getting late,” Lewis continued. “Why don’t you take Sammie back home, and I’ll contact my officers?”
Sammie?
But Lewis wasn’t hanging around for his response. The captain had already left the office. Blake glanced at Samantha, frowning.
“You’re lucky,” she murmured, her gaze on Lewis’s back. “This small town happens to have the best damn police captain in the state. You can count on him to help you out.”
Good to know. “You’re close to him?”
A faint smile curved her lips. “He’s the only father I’ve had since I was thirteen. So, yeah, we’re close.”
Surprise rocked through him. Samantha and her secrets...she always kept him guessing. One day, though, he’d learn all there was to know about her.
“Let’s get out of here,” she murmured. She rose and headed for the door. “I can’t shake the feeling that he’s out there, watching.”
Blake caught her hand. I did this. I brought him here. “Samantha...he’s not going to get to you.”
She turned toward him, her body brushing against his. “That’s the thing. I’d rather he come after me. And not pick some other woman like Kristy. I can fight back. I was a trained agent. I don’t want anyone else being the victim.” Her eyes gleamed up at him. “I don’t want anyone suffering because he’s trying to get to me.”
* * *
IT HAD BEEN one crazy day.
Tammy White locked the door to Connoisseur’s Delight and stepped into the small alley behind the building. Her car was parked in the garage down the street, about forty yards away. The sun was starting to set, snaking across the sky and turning it a deep red.
The FBI agent had made her nervous. He’d stayed at the store, asking all sorts of questions. And then things had finally clicked for her.
Cameron Latham. Oh, Jesus, she hadn’t even recognized the guy’s name at first. She heard dozens of names every single day. They didn’t stick out for her. So when the caller had placed the order, she hadn’t given a second thought to his name.
Until the intense agent and the dark-haired lady had shown up. They’d pushed with their questions, and she’d finally made the connection.
The Sorority Slasher. Cameron Latham. He’d been such a big deal in the news months ago, but the guy had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth. She’d forgotten all about him.
I won’t be forgetting now.
Her steps quickened as she headed toward the garage. She couldn’t wait to tell her roommate, Jemi, about everything that had happened. Her friend was going to flip. Maybe they should call the news. Or one of those tabloids. Those reporters liked these kinds of stories, right?
“Did she like the champagne?”
The question came from the shadows just inside of the parking garage. Tammy opened her mouth to scream, but a man lunged toward her. He slapped one hand over her mouth even as the other yanked her close to him.
He was handsome. That thought flashed through her mind as the fluorescent light shone down on them. His face was handsome. His hair was stylish. He had perfect teeth as he smiled at her.
He didn’t look evil, but...
He is.
Tammy struggled against him, but his grip was tight. Punishing.
“I hope she liked the gift. I was just so happy to find her that I needed her to understand I was here.”
He was yanking her toward a gleaming luxury sedan. A big, fancy car.
“But then I got to thinking...”
She kicked him hard, and his grip slackened on her. Tammy took that opportunity, and she jerked out of his grip. She lunged forward—
But he yanked her back. He spun her around, and his fist slammed into her face.
She heard bones crunch, and she felt wetness—blood—splash over her lips as it poured from her nose. Her whole body slumped, and he seized that moment to lift her up and shove her into his waiting car. Dazed, she didn’t even fight him.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
“I got to thinking...” He cranked the car. “She’s going to need more than a bottle of champagne to realize the hunt is on. She’s going to need a victim.”
Tammy tried to grab for the door handle.
And that was when his hand flew out, and the knife came toward her.
* * *
BLAKE STOOD AT her front door, staring down at her. He’d brought her back from the police station. The ride had been quiet, intense. Too many emotions had seemed to fill the air between them.
Danger was waiting. Samantha could feel it in the air. A killer was coming. There was no more hiding.
Her breath eased out. “Thank you for the ride.”
He growled. That was the only word for it—a growl. Rough and animalistic, and the sound made Samantha’s heartbeat quicken.
“You think that’s the way it ends? I bring you home and I just walk away, knowing some bastard is out there? Someone who seems to be after you?”
She didn’t want him to walk away. Samantha’s hand lifted and pressed to his chest. “Blake—”
“Screw that.” His words were ragged. “I’m not playing by the rules any longer. You matter too much.”
And then...Blake was kissing her. Samantha’s hands flew up and flattened against his chest. She could feel the strength of his muscles beneath her touch. She intended to shove him back. After all, they were partners and they couldn’t—
We’re not partners, not any longer. I’m not FBI. I’m a civilian. There’s no line that we can’t cross.
Her hands pressed to him, but she didn’t push him back. She’d thought about his mouth for a long time, wondered how he would kiss, how he would taste. Wondered what it would be like to just let herself go with him.
She didn’t have to wonder any longer. Samantha’s lips parted beneath his, and when his tongue thrust into her mouth, a low moan built in her throat. She found herself rising onto her tiptoes, leaning toward him, wanting more of his kiss.
Still waters run deep. That was the old saying. She’d always suspected he had some very, very deep waters. Deep water, deep passion. If he just let his control go, if she let hers go...
No.
Samantha stepped back, sliding from his embrace. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and her breasts—her nipples—were tight with arousal. All from one simple kiss. Blake Gamble was dangerous to her. Another truth she’d always known. She felt too much with him. Too much, too fast.
“I’m not going to apologize for that kiss.” His voice was a sexy, rough rasp that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Don’t remember...asking you to do that.” She remembered kissing him back with a wild hunger. “We’re adults. We can—”
“I’ve wanted you from day one.”
Her breath whispered out. She’d seen the desire in his eyes, burning hot in that green gaze. But he’d always kept his control around her.
“I played by the rules.”
Because he seemed to be the rule-following sort.
His jaw tightened. “And now I’ve fucking brought a killer to your door.” Anger was there, deepening his voice, letting the hint of his Texas drawl slip out.
“Blake, it’s not—”
“My fault?” His gaze burned. “You don’t need to lie to me. I keep telling you that. When will you believe it? I can handle your truth. I can handle every single secret that you have.”
No, he couldn’t. He didn’t know about her past, and he didn’t know everything that had happened the terrible night she realized that Cameron was a killer. If he did know, would he even want to touch her? Would he look at her as if she were the monster?
“I’m not going to stand back, not any longer.” The heat from his body seemed to wrap around her. “I want you. I’m not going to let that sick son of a bitch out there—whether it is Latham or someone else—I’m not letting him get you. I may not be your partner anymore, but I’m here. I will always be here for you.”
The hero. He had that complex straight to his soul. Too bad she wasn’t built the same way. There was a darkness in her, one she’d always felt, like a constant companion who shadowed her every step. Cameron had said she was made for the dark. We both know you like the dark... Isn’t that your name? His voice floated through her mind, the way it often did. Little things, replaying in her head. I always said you had that killer instinct. How many times had she found herself looking over her shoulder in the past few months, certain that Cameron would be there?
“If you don’t want me to touch you again, you say the word.”
She wanted his touch right then. Wanted to drag him close and kiss him and forget everything else. She’d been playing by the rules during her time at the FBI, and what had that good behavior gotten her? Blame and a swift kick in the ass on her way out of the door.
“But I’m not leaving,” he added, when she remained silent. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what to say. “And the killer out there? I will hunt him down. I’d just rather do it with you at my side. Because, despite the bullshit that EAD Bass said about you, I know you’re the best. We can work together again. We can take this bastard down.”
Tempting words. But she already knew what she had to do. “I’ll help you find him.” Stopping the killer was as necessary as breathing. She couldn’t let a predator like him hunt. The image of Kristy Wales flashed through her mind. The woman had been terrified, and her blood...it had sprayed so wide when her throat was cut. “We’ll make our own rules from here on out.”
So she’d be back to working with Blake, temporarily. And the desire that was between them? The need that kiss had just proved was still as hot as ever? What were they supposed to do about that?
Ignore it, the way they’d done before?
I won’t pretend. “I want you,” Samantha said. She could give him that truth. “I just don�
��t know what to do about that need.” Another quiet admission. She did want him, so very much, and that desire terrified her.
Her last lover had turned out to be a serial killer. Since then, she hadn’t been willing to lower her guard and trust another man with her body. But if she could trust anyone...shouldn’t it be Blake?
She turned away from him, fumbling with her door. It took three tries to get the lock open, then she hurriedly disengaged her security system. She went inside, but...Blake wasn’t following her.
Samantha glanced back.
His hands were clenched at his sides, and his eyes glittered with unmistakable desire. Her breath hitched as she stared at him, and need twisted deep inside of her.
“I think there are a few things we need to discuss.” Again, his voice was rough and dark, sexy.
Samantha licked her lips and tasted him.
If possible, his gaze went even brighter. Be careful. The warning whispered through her mind. You’re about to go too far.
“I need to talk to you about Latham.” His breath rushed out on a low hiss. “And this time, I don’t want you holding back with me.”
Oh, hell.
* * *
TAMMY WASN’T FIGHTING any longer. A few jabs of his blade and she’d started cooperating quickly. Begging, promising him anything.
Before he was done, he’d take everything from her.
After he’d transported her, he’d tied her up, secured her easily, but now her blood was making a pool beneath her body. A gag was shoved in her mouth—just in case she got the urge to scream—and she stared up at him with wide, desperate eyes. The light from his lantern shone on her, illuminating her terror in just the right way...while letting him blend with the shadows around them.
Does she know there’s no hope? Or does she still think there is a way out?
He held up her phone in front of her face and snapped a quick picture. “Perfect.” He’d taken the phone—and her bag—when he grabbed her in the parking garage.
A low moan came from behind the gag. He lifted up the phone, studying the image. “Not too bad, but I don’t know if this angle really is your best. Let’s try again.” Another shot. Another bloody picture. “Much better.” He smiled at her. “You know, I’m really glad I took a few hours to learn my way around your town earlier.” Now he nodded. “Always get the lay of the land, that’s step one. You have to know where to hide. You have to know how to escape. I mean, otherwise, aren’t you just a sitting duck, waiting for the authorities to come?”
