by Rita Herron
Pace went to his file cabinet, removed a folder, then consulted it. “Lex Van Wormer had an incurable disease caused by exposure to an unknown chemical when he was in the service. He—”
“I know that,” Crystal screeched. “He had scales on his arms, dry patches, the skin fell away. He used an antibiotic cream.” She brought her fingers to her nose. “I can still smell it, or at least I could in the room.”
“Crystal,” Pace said as if he were speaking to a child, “Lex Van Wormer died just shortly after you were brought in.”
Damon studied the interplay with renewed skepticism.
What in the hell was going on?
Was Pace lying about Van Wormer? Was he really dead? And if so, how could this woman have seen him? Was she mentally unstable?
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Reginald Pace poured himself a stiff Dewars on ice and tossed it down. One more, then he threw the glass against the wall and watched it shatter.
Goddamn it. Why the fuck did Dubois have to be the agent on the case?
Because his brother was framed for the murder…
And they had set up Antwaun.
But Reginald hadn’t expected Damon to track Kendra here.
Reginald picked up the phone and frantically punched in numbers. The man who’d brought Kendra Yates to him would be pissed to know Dubois was snooping about.
The phone rang three times, then the man’s hoarse voice reverberated over the line. “What the hell are you doing calling me?”
“We have trouble. Damon Dubois just left my office. He met our patient and is asking questions.”
A chuckle rumbled from the other end. “So, Dubois figured out that Kendra Yates was on to you. Big deal. We knew he’d get that far.”
“You don’t understand,” Reginald said, his heart beating like a racehorse. “The surgery…It didn’t turn out exactly as I’d expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I removed the bandages, the woman looks remarkably like Miss Yates.”
“But you said after the surgery she wouldn’t look like Kendra.”
“It’s not supposed to work that way, but this woman had such similar bone structure that she is almost a dead ringer for Yates. I planned to perform another surgery to make minor changes and alleviate the problem, but Dubois showed up tonight and recognized her from a press photo.”
The man cursed, then sighed audibly. “It doesn’t matter. Dubois and his brother are both going to pay in the end. And if the woman is a casualty, so be it.”
Normally Reginald would agree. Shit happened. Some patients died, some lived. All in a day’s work.
Some even had to be sacrificed for the greater good. For research. And this woman…in the scheme of things, she didn’t matter, which was the very reason he had been able to use her to begin with. No one had asked about her, knew she was missing, because she had no ties.
Not anymore.
Of course, if she found out the truth, the things he knew about her, the things he’d kept from her, the leeway he’d given himself in her transformation, she’d hate him.
Worse, he was playing a dangerous game by informing this man of the problem.
His friend had no idea about the real identity of the woman with the new face or how she had come to Reginald. If he did…
If he did, he’d kill her.
All the more reason that Reginald had to help him eliminate Dubois and his brother.
He hung up, desperate to convince Crystal that she couldn’t leave him. Her livelihood, her future depended on him.
But when he looked in her room, he found it empty. Frantic, he combed the entire hospital, searched all the patients’ rooms, then the gardens.
But she was gone.
At least she hadn’t left with Dubois, because after her Van Wormer comment, the agent thought she was crazy.
* * *
YES, THE DUBOIS BROTHERS had to die. But not yet.
First they had to suffer. Sweat. Feel the slow torture of death on its way.
He knew exactly how to hurt them.
Antwaun Dubois’s fate would be the big finale. The shock would rock the entire Dubois family and tear them apart forever.
And Damon…sweet Beelzebub. Damon was the ultimate foreplay in his game of revenge. He was going to squirm and agonize over every moment.
He brought the sharp blade of the knife up to the light, examined the dried blood still clinging to the edges, and grinned. Then he closed his eyes, remembering how delicious it had been to mutilate the woman’s body.
Touching the blade to her flesh had given him a hard-on. At first he’d watched her eyes bulge and widen in horror as he’d dug the tip just deep enough into her pale throat to cause pain. Withdrawing it, he’d nearly orgasmed as he’d softly tapped a path along her naked body from her chin to her sex, where he’d planned to gut her.
She’d whimpered and begged, pleaded and offered to do anything he wanted.
He’d smiled as he’d driven the knife deep inside and experienced the bliss of satisfaction that only spilled lifeblood could offer.
A laugh errupted from deep within him, rumbling through the blood-soaked cabin and out into the bayou. Outside a water moccasin slithered through the murky surface of the water and the gators waited for their next meal. An offering he would likely give them.
But not tonight. He’d have to find another to feed them.
He needed this one to torture the enemy.
He grabbed his camera and photographed every inch of the woman’s tattered body. Spread her on the floor as the first mutilator had done, careful to tie her legs apart and take the angle shots that would showcase his carvings. The intricate web of cuts on her throat, her breasts, her belly. The completeness of his act when he’d forced the knife up inside her.
He wondered how long it would take for the Dubois men to put the pieces of her back together. And to connect the gruesome scene with the first mutilator.
Only then would they truly understand that they were responsible for her death. That they had brought all this pain upon themselves.
And if they didn’t stop him, there would be others.
CHAPTER NINE
CRYSTAL’S HEAD REELED with confusion as she settled into the car beside Special Agent Dubois. His face registered surprise to see her in the seat.
“What are you doing?”
“You said you’d help me find out who I am.”
“That’s true. But are you sure you want to leave?”
“Yes.” Dr. Pace had frightened her. And she needed answers. She’d been hiding long enough.
If she was Kendra Yates, she’d apparently been working on stories that might have put her in danger. She’d be safer with an FBI agent than on her own, wouldn’t she?
He started the engine and drove the sedan down the long winding drive through the secluded woods. Her stomach clenched as the building disappeared from sight. It had been her home for months. Had offered her safety and security.
But tonight she’d felt it had become a prison.
Lex. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, then glanced at the agent through the darkness. He’d followed her into her room where she’d hoped Lex would be waiting, but the room had been empty. Dr. Pace had tried to explain that the medication and anesthesia could have confused her. But she’d seen the concern in his eyes. She’d torn down the hall, searching each room on her floor but they had all been empty as well. There hadn’t been a harmonica either…
Agent Dubois had said nothing. He’d simply stared at her as if he wondered about her sanity.
She was beginning to wonder about it, too.
And that was the very reason she’d sneaked out to his car. She’d been in that hospital so long she feared she was losing her mind. Maybe getting out, meeting others would trigger some memory of her past.
She was stronger now physically. And mentally…she was determined to find out who she was and what had happened to her.
“Are you all right?” Agent Dubois cut his dark gaze toward her. A streak of moonlight seeped through the storm clouds and settled on his chiseled face, making him seem wolfish, and her like a schoolgirl.
“I think so.”
“Did you know this man Lex Van Wormer before you were hospitalized?”
She frowned and picked at the edge of the seat belt, searching her blank mind. “No. At least not that I remember.”
“But he came to visit you in your room?”
“Yes. But only at night.” She licked her dry lips. “I assumed he didn’t like to be seen in the light because of his condition. I…understood why he felt the need to remain in the shadows.”
He veered onto the main highway. “You never visited his room or saw him outside?”
“No.” She chewed her bottom lip, wondering what he was getting at. “I was too weak at first, and avoided leaving my room. The other patients, when there were others, whispered about me. They thought I was a monster.”
His square jaw tightened, and he reached out to slide his hand over hers. “You’re not a monster, Crystal. You’re a petite fleur, jolie fille.”
“What does that mean?”
“A little flower, a pretty woman.”
Warmth spread through her at his tone and compliment. It had been so long since she’d been away from the hospital, or with anyone other than Dr. Pace, the occasional nurse, and…Lex.
But Dr. Pace insisted Lex was dead.
Had she really been talking to a ghost all these months? Had she been hallucinating from the medication? Or was he lying to her to make her think she was crazy?
* * *
DAMON’S HAND TINGLED AS he closed it over the woman’s. A surge of sexual heat shot through his body unlike anything he’d experienced in a long time. He felt an instant connection with Crystal/Kendra—whatever the hell her name was—a connection that tempted him to believe her.
But he had no idea if she was lying to him, or if she was the woman his brother was accused of murdering. The woman his brother had slept with and fallen for…
A woman Damon could absolutely not get involved with.
He jerked his hand away, but his fingers fell cold suddenly.
Dammit, even if she wasn’t Kendra Yates, she looked a helluva lot like her, so much so that it was disturbing. And who knew what he would discover about her past? She might be a criminal. Or insane, for all he knew.
But she also might be in trouble and needed him.
His thoughts turned to the E-team. If she’d met Lex, perhaps he’d divulged secrets about his past and their missions before his demise.
Meaning she could expose them. If Cal or Max knew, they’d want to silence her.
He had to find out how much she knew. It was the only way to protect the E-team.
Being attracted to her would only interfere with work.
His cell phone rang, saving him from explaining the thoughts boomeranging in his head. He checked the number and answered.
“Damon. Jean-Paul.” Short, clipped, to the point. “No leads yet on who wired that money transfer into the phony account for Antwaun, but I’m working on it. Anything on your end?”
“I tracked down Dr. Pace. And…you won’t believe what I found.” He explained about his conversation with the plastic surgeon, and the woman in the seat beside him, well aware she watched him warily. Had she felt the heat, the lust that had shot through his body?
Did she know he’d been part of the E-team, and a friend of Lex’s? That they would kill her if she tried to expose them?
“Damon—”
“Sorry. Anyway, Pace claims he sent her DNA for testing, but I called the agency and there was no record of it. She’s coming with me so we can run her DNA and fingerprints and find out her identity.”
“Do you think she’s Kendra Yates?” Jean-Paul asked.
“I don’t know. She certainly looks like her, but she has amnesia. And I’m not sure the timing is right.” He hesitated. “Check and see if Miss Yates had any siblings. Maybe a sister who resembled her, or a twin.”
“I’m on it.”
A long pause. “How are Maman and Papa holding up?”
Jean-Paul’s long sigh said it all. “As well as can be expected. The press mobbed them at the restaurant today. I talked to Steph and she’s going to stay with them for a few days until the worst dies down.”
“Dammit. This scandal could destroy their new business.”
“I know. All the more reason for us to work quickly.”
“I’ll get the DNA and fingerprints sent out tonight. Then I’m going straight to the jail to see if she recognizes Antwaun or vice versa.” If she was Kendra Yates, which he hoped to hell she was, they could clear his brother and get him out of jail. Then Antwaun could figure out what had happened to her, and whether or not the two of them had any kind of relationship to pursue, or if she’d only been using his brother for information on the police force.
And if she wasn’t Kendra…
He’d figure out why she looked like her. If she was related or if Pace had some reason to recreate Kendra Yates’s face on another woman. Something nagged at the back of his mind, something about Pace’s work, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
“I’m still digging into the police-corruption angle,” Jean-Paul said. “If this woman is Kendra Yates and a dirty cop thinks she’s on to him, he may come after her.”
Damon grimaced, his brother’s conclusions mirroring his own. He wanted answers, but the thought of using Crystal gnawed at his conscience. He agreed to keep Jean-Paul posted, hung up, and glanced at Crystal. She looked pale, exhausted, frightened. He wanted to soothe her again, reach out, touch her and promise her that she wasn’t alone, that he would protect her.
But how could he when he didn’t know the truth about her?
Dammit. He dared not get close to her.
Wanting to help her was one thing, but wanting her on a physical level was impossible.
After all, he just might have to use her as bait to catch a killer….
* * *
AS THEY DROVE, Crystal clung to the hope that Agent Dubois could help her, yet the heat emanating from him when he’d touched her rattled her. She’d felt an immediate thrill that had aroused her senses in a way that she hadn’t thought about during her hospitalization.
Of course, the past few months she’d been consumed with struggling to survive. She had hoped to look human, but to be…beautiful, as Damon Dubois had called her, was a miracle.
But tension radiated from the agent in waves, reminding her that he suspected she was Kendra, that she held the key to his brother’s release from jail. That the homicide investigation was his only interest in her.
What if he was right? Would she remember Antwaun Dubois? Had she really been a reporter?
And what if she wasn’t Kendra Yates? Then she’d be back to square one—a woman with no name, no past, no knowledge of her former life. A woman no one cared enough about to look for…
A woman who resembled a dead reporter. A reporter someone may have tried to murder.
A shudder coursed through her at the thought. What had happened to Kendra Yates? What if she was Kendra and Antwaun Dubois had tried to kill her? Maybe Damon Dubois was walking her into some kind of trap?
The terror that had overwhelmed her during her nightmares about the accident haunted her. She’d seen the flames, a man’s dead body…But who was he? And what had happened?
In spite of the stifling summer heat, she huddled within herself, feeling cold and alone. Could she really trust Agent Dubois?
She’d sensed the anger in him when she’d seen that television interview, and when he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d staunchly defended his brother.
The men were brothers. Antwaun’s guilt or innocence might not matter. Agent Dubois might defend him anyway. And this supposed attraction between them might be one-sided. Maybe he thought that if he pretended to care, even seduced her, she’d hel
p him.
She massaged her temple where a headache pulsed, already feeling the weight of fatigue on her muscles.
“Are you all right?”
The agent’s husky voice sent another frisson of alarm and…sexual energy flowing through her. “Yes.”
“If you’re not feeling well, I’ll take you somewhere to rest and we can meet my brother later.”
She turned to study him in the dim light of the car. His masculine scent, big body, even his low breathing filled the confines with an intensity that bordered on frightening. Yet tenderness also underscored the dark hooded look in his eyes as he made the offer.
“I thought you wanted this meeting immediately, Agent Dubois,” she said, confused.
“I do, but you look exhausted. And please call me Damon.”
Calling him by his first name seemed somehow too intimate. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow echoing between them, and making her even more aware of his potency.
“No, let’s get the meeting over with,” she said, determined to follow through with any lead on her identity.
His eyes darkened. “Are you sure?”
His concern touched her. Surely if he meant her harm or was leading her into a trap, he wouldn’t offer to let her rest.
“Yes, I want to do this,” she said, lifting her chin and struggling for courage. “If I’m Kendra Yates, then I can help your brother. And I’ll know something about myself. If I’m not, I won’t be any worse off than I’ve been the past few months.”
He nodded and focused on the road. She tried to relax. But by the time they reached the jail, her head throbbed full force, and nerves gripped her shoulders so tightly she ached all over.
Agent Dubois led her into the police station, through security and into a holding room to talk to his brother. In spite of her fears, Crystal was impressed with Damon’s quiet commanding authority and the respect he garnered from the other officers. Still, she sensed animosity between a few of them as the other officers passed through the department, as if they understood his personal agenda and perhaps believed his brother was guilty of the charges.
Their whispers and shocked expressions reminded her that her new face looked like the woman they had charged Antwaun Dubois of murdering.
