by Kat Martin
“Yes.” He glanced around. “Who’s Albert Nelson?”
“My story,” she said, looking again. “I scared him off last week, but I know he’s a member of Captive, so I came here to ask him questions.” Definitely to pressure him into answering all of her questions this time. At this point, she didn’t care. Finding out who’d killed her friend was all that mattered. “Your job?”
“Confidential. You know a guy named Clarke Wellson?”
“No, but I could do a background check later,” she murmured. They’d helped each other on cases before.
Wolfe glanced down at her, his gaze warming. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you.” It was nice he’d noticed, although the outfit wasn’t really her style. She was more a jeans and flannel type of girl. She shuffled uneasily in her heels. That way he had of switching topics had thrown her ever since they’d met. “Okay. I’m going to mingle and ask questions. You?”
He smiled, the sight daunting. “I just cuffed you. No Dom would allow a sub to mingle.”
Allow? Oh, heck no. She blinked. “Then uncuff me.”
“No. Last time you didn’t have backup, you nearly died.” He crossed his arms, somehow scouting the entire room while also watching her.
Her back teeth gritted together. “You’re not in charge here, Wolfe.”
“The cuffs say otherwise,” he said, angling his head to take in the dance floor.
She couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. For months she’d chased this story, and she was here pretty much tied up because of a guy who only wanted to be her friend. She kicked him, as hard as she could, right in the shin.
He stiffened, rapidly pivoted, and both hands went to her hips to lift her. She was halfway in the air to the bar before she even thought to struggle. A heavy thud sounded from behind Wolfe. A woman screamed.
Wolfe dropped Dana to her feet and shoved her behind him, angling toward the dance floor. He looked up to a balcony high above.
Dana craned her neck to see around him, staring down at the dead man on the ground with a bullet hole in his head. His eyes were wide open and frighteningly blank. Her stomach lurched, and she coughed. “That’s Albert,” she whispered.
Wolfe looked over his shoulder at her. “Well, shit. That’s Clarke, too.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Wolfe grabbed her bound wrists. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
ONCE, SHE GOT AWAY
The body lying on a cold steel slab bears all the hallmarks of the Chicago Butcher. There’s a cruel slash across her throat, deep enough to sever the carotid artery, and a small crescent carved into her right breast. Her delicate features are painfully familiar to Ash Marcel, once a rising star in the Chicago PD. But though the victim resembles his former fiancée, Remi Walsh, he knows it’s not her.
BUT THIS TIME
Though Remi escaped a serial killer five years ago, her father died trying to save her. Grief and guilt caused her to pull away from the man she loved. Now Ash is back in her life, insisting that Remi is still in danger.
IT’S A DEAD END . . .
Someone is targeting women who look just like Remi. With or without a badge, Ash intends to unmask the Butcher. But the killer isn’t playing games any longer. He’s moving in, ready to finish what he started, and prove there’s nothing more terrifying than a killer’s obsession . . .
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THE INTENDED VICTIM,
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Prologue
The sun was still struggling to crest the horizon when Angel Conway entered the small park next to Lake Michigan. Shivering, she hunched herself deeper in her heavy coat. Shit. Was there anywhere in the world colder than Chicago in the winter? She doubted even the North Pole felt as frigid. Especially this morning with the wind whipping the icy droplets from the nearby lake. They stung her face like tiny darts.
Unfortunately, she had no choice but to drag herself out of her bed at such a god-awful hour to brave the cold. It was the same reason she snuck out every Friday morning.
When she came to Chicago, she’d intended to have a clean start. No drugs. No men. Nothing that would screw up her one opportunity to climb out of the sewer she’d made of her life. But after the operation, she’d been given painkillers, and the hunger had been stroked back to life. Within three weeks of her arrival in the city, she was back to the same old habits.
Stomping her feet in an attempt to keep blood flowing to her toes, she scanned the shadowed lot. Where was her john? Usually she was the one running late. She did it deliberately to avoid being turned into a human popsicle. She wanted to arrive at the park, climb into the man’s expensive Jag, do her business, and get her pills. No fuss, no muss.
And no frostbite.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together.
Maybe she should bail. She could sneak out this weekend and find a street dealer. Of course, what little money she had . . .
Her thoughts were shattered by the sharp snap of a branch. She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at the trees directly behind her. She’d chosen this spot because it gave her an open view of the lot, but at the same time gave her cover in case a cop decided to drive through the park. Now she felt a weird sense of dread crawl over her skin.
She was from the country. She knew the sound of a critter scrambling through the underbrush.
There was someone moving in the darkness. The only question was whether it was an early morning jogger. Or a pervert who was spying on her.
She never considered there might have been a third possibility.
Not until she felt the cold blade press against her throat . . .
Chapter One
Dr. Ashland Marcel entered his office on the campus of Illinois State University. It was a small, dark space that had one window overlooking the parking lot. An office reserved for a professor who hadn’t yet received his tenure. Not that the cramped space bothered Ash. As much as he enjoyed teaching criminal justice classes, he hadn’t fully committed to spending the rest of his life in an academic setting. Especially after a day like today.
With a grimace, he dropped into his seat behind the cluttered desk. A sigh escaped his lips. It was only noon, but he was grateful he was done teaching his classes for the day.
The students weren’t the only ones looking forward to the end of the semester, he wryly acknowledged. Early December in the Midwest meant short, brutally cold days. A bunch of twenty-somethings trapped inside for weeks at a time was never a good thing. His classroom was choking with their pent-up energy.
But it was Friday. And Monday the students started finals. Which meant that in less than seven days he could look forward to a month of peace and quiet.
Pretending he didn’t notice the tiny ache in the center of his heart at the thought of spending the holidays alone in his small house, Ash opened his laptop. He needed to get through his email before he could call it a day.
He’d barely fired up the computer when the door to his office was shoved open. He glanced up with a forbidding glare. His students were told on the first day of class that they could come to him during his posted office hours. He’d discovered his first year of teaching that they would follow him into the toilet with questions if he didn’t set firm guidelines.
His annoyance, however, swiftly changed to surprise at the sight of the man dressed in a worn blue suit who stepped through the opening.
Detective Jackson “Jax” Marcel.
At a glance, it was easy to tell the two were brothers. They both had light brown hair that curled around the edges. Ash’s was allowed to grow longer now that he was no longer on the police force, and had fewer strands of gray. And they both had blue eyes. Ash’s were several shades darker, and framed by long, black lashes that had been the bane of his childhood. And they were both tall and slender, with muscles that came from long morning jogs instead of time in the gy
m.
Ash rose to his feet, his brows arching in surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for his family to visit. The university was only a couple hours from Chicago. But they never just appeared in his office without calling.
“Jax.”
Jax stretched his lips into a smile, but it was clearly an effort. “Hey, bro.”
Ash studied his companion. Jax was the oldest of the four Marcel brothers, but since they had all been born within a six-year span they were all close in age. That was perhaps why they’d always been so tight. You messed with one Marcel, you messed with them all.
“What are you doing here?” Ash demanded.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You couldn’t call?”
Jax grimaced. “I preferred to do it face-to-face.”
Fear curled through the pit of Ash’s stomach. Something had happened. Something bad. He leaned forward, laying his palms flat on the desk.
“Mom? Dad?”
Jax gave a sharp shake of his head. “The family is fine.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Sit down.”
Ash clenched his teeth. His brother’s attempt to delay the bad news was twisting his nerves into a painful knot. “Shit. Just tell me.”
Perhaps realizing that he was doing more harm than good, Jax heaved a harsh sigh.
“It’s Remi Walsh.”
Ash froze. He hadn’t heard the name Remi in five years. Not since he’d packed his bags and walked away from Chicago and the woman who’d promised to be his wife.
“Remi.” His voice sounded oddly hollow. “Is she hurt?”
This time Jax didn’t torture him. He spoke without hesitation.
“Her body arrived in the morgue this morning.”
Morgue.
“No.” The word was wrenched from Ash’s lips as his knees buckled and he collapsed into his chair.
Jax stepped toward the desk, his expression one of pity. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
Ash shook his head. “This has to be a mistake,” he said, meaning every word.
It was a mistake. There was no way in hell that Remi could be dead.
“I wish it was a mistake, bro,” Jax said in sad tones. “But I saw her with my own eyes.”
Ash grimly refused to accept what his brother was telling him. He’d tumbled head over heels in love with Remi from the second she’d strolled into the police station to take her father for lunch. Ash had just made detective and Gage Walsh was his partner. Thankfully, that hadn’t stopped him from asking out Remi. She’d been hesitant at first, clearly unsure she wanted to date someone who worked so closely with her father. But from their first date they’d both known the sensations that sizzled between them were something special.
That’s why he couldn’t accept she was gone.
If something had happened to Remi, he would know. In his heart. In his very soul.
“How long has it been since you last spent time with her?” he challenged his brother.
Jax shrugged. “Five years ago.”
“Exactly. How could you possibly recognize her after so long?”
“Ash.” Jax reached up to run his hand over his face, his shoulders stooped. He looked like he was weary to the bone. “Denying the truth doesn’t change it.”
Anger blasted through Ash. He wanted to vault across the desk and slam his fist into his brother’s face for insisting on the lie. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d given Jax a black eye. Of course, his brother had pounded him back, chipping a tooth and covering him in bruises, but it’d been totally worth it.
Instead, he forced himself to leash his raw emotions.
“It’s official?” he demanded.
Jax gave a slow shake of his head. “Not yet. The medical examiner is overwhelmed as usual. It will be hours before they can run fingerprints, even with me putting pressure on them.”
The anger remained, but it was suddenly threaded with hope. Nothing was official.
The words beat through him, echoing his heavy pulse.
At the same time, he continued to glare at his brother. “Why come here before you’re sure it’s Remi?”
Jax coughed, as if clearing his throat. “I wanted you to be prepared.”
Ash narrowed his gaze. The shock of Jax’s announcement had sent his brain reeling. Which was the only explanation for why he hadn’t noticed his brother’s hands clenching and unclenching. It wasn’t just sympathy that was causing his brother’s unease.
“No. There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said.
Jax glanced toward the window, then down at the scuff marks on his leather shoes. Was he playing for time? Or searching for the right words? “Let’s go for a drink,” he finally suggested.
“Dammit, Jax. This isn’t the time for games,” Ash snapped. “Just tell me.”
Jax’s lips twisted before he forced himself to speak the words he’d clearly hoped to avoid. “She was found with her throat slit.”
Ash surged to his feet, knocking over the chair. It smashed against the wooden floor with a loud bang, but Ash barely noticed.
“Was there a mark?” he rasped.
It’d been only a few weeks after he’d started dating Remi that Gage had put together the connection that a rash of dead women was the work of a serial killer. They’d tagged him the Chicago Butcher since it was suspected that he used a butcher’s knife to slice the throats of his victims. Only the cops knew that there had been a hidden calling card left behind by the killer: a small crescent carved onto the women’s right breast. No one knew if it was supposed to be a “c,” or a moon, or perhaps some unknown symbol. But it was always there.
“Yes.”
“Like the others?” he pressed.
Jax nodded. Ash reached into his pocket to pull out his keys. He’d gone from white-hot emotion erupting through him like lava to an ice-cold determination.
The Chicago Butcher had destroyed his life five years ago. If the bastard was back, then Ash was going to track him and kill him. He didn’t care if he had a badge or not.
He tossed his keys to his brother. “Go to my house and pack a bag.”
Jax caught the keys, his brows tugging together. “Ash, there’s nothing you can do.”
“I have to see her,” Ash muttered, not adding his secondary reason for returning to Chicago. His brother was smart. He knew Ash would be hungry for revenge. “She was my fiancée.”
Jax grimaced. “It was all a long time ago.”
Ash snorted. It had been five years, not an eternity. And most of the time it felt like it had all happened yesterday. “We both know it doesn’t matter how long ago it was, or you would never have come down here to tell me.”
The older man hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t want you to hear it on the news.”
Ash didn’t believe the excuse for a second. “Pack a bag,” he commanded, reaching down to right his chair. “I’ll be ready by the time you get back.”
“What about your classes?” Jax tried a last-ditch effort to keep Ash away from Chicago.
“Finals are next week.” Ash sat down and reached for the cell phone he’d left on his desk. He might be under thirty, but he held the old-fashioned belief that there was no need for phones in his classroom. Including his own. “I’ll call the dean and warn him there’s been a family emergency. If I’m not back by Monday, my teaching assistant can proctor the exams.”
“Ash—”
“I can go back with you or I’ll drive myself,” Ash interrupted.
“Hell, I don’t want you behind the wheel.” Jax pointed a finger toward Ash. “Don’t move until I get back.”
Ash ignored his brother as he turned and left his office. He not only needed to contact the dean, but he wanted to make sure that his assistant knew he would be expected to take over his classes if necessary, as well as making his excuses to the dozens of holiday invitations that were waiting in his inbox.
He was just finishing his tasks when his phone pinged with
a text telling him that Jax was waiting for him in the parking lot.
Grabbing his laptop and the coat that hung in the corner, he stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him. Then, using the back stairs, he managed to avoid any acquaintances. Right now, he would be incapable of casual chitchat.
Pushing open the door, he stepped out of the building and headed for the nearby parking lot. The sun was shining, but there was a sharp breeze that made him shiver. Like all his brothers he enjoyed being out in the fresh air, either jogging or spending the weekend camping near the river. But with each passing year he found he was less willing to brave icy temperatures.
Soon he’d be spending the long winters sitting in front of a warm fire with a comfy sweater and his favorite slippers.
Shaking away his idiotic thoughts, he stopped next to his brother’s car. Pulling open the door, he slid into the passenger seat and wrapped the seat belt across his body.
“Have you heard anything from the medical examiner?” he demanded as his brother put the car in gear and headed out of the lot.
“Not yet.” There was silence as Jax concentrated on negotiating the traffic out of town. It wasn’t until they reached the interstate that Jax glanced toward Ash. “Mom will be happy to have you home for a few days. She complains you never bother to come and see her anymore.”
Ash pressed his lips together. It was that or snapping at his brother that this wasn’t a damned social visit. Eventually, however, he forced his tense muscles to relax. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t realize that Jax was trying to distract him. And that there was no point in brooding on what he was going to discover once they reached Chicago.
“Mom’s too busy planning Nate’s wedding to notice whether I’m around or not,” he managed to say.
Nate was the youngest Marcel brother, who’d moved to Oklahoma after leaving the FBI. He had proposed to his neighbor, Ellie Guthrie, a few months ago, and since she didn’t have a relationship with her own parents, June Marcel had eagerly stepped in to act as her surrogate mother.
