He clenched his back teeth against the pain. His body had been marked—for a second time. Not part of his plan. He liked to give the pain. Like to watch his victims moan and beg.
“I’m not supposed to be the one bleeding,” he rasped.
The needle jabbed into his skin. A stitch job, to stop the blood. He’d carry that stupid mark forever now.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone off the script and gone after them! I told you to wait. I told you I had things covered.”
“I got sick of waiting.” He was also sick of being told what to do. It had been his plan. His moves. His victims. “It’s ending.” He knew just how it would end, too. He’d known from the beginning.
“Yes, well, it’s not over yet. While you were out screwing things to hell and back, I was eliminating loose ends. That guy at the dock? Chaz? I couldn’t risk him talking. It was only going to be a matter of time.”
The needle jabbed him again. He grunted. “He never saw me.”
“No, he saw me. And I’m not going down for this.” The needle stilled. “Do you understand me? We are in this together. You aren’t going to leave me taking the fall.”
Of course, I am. “Of course, not. You know we have a deal. I’ll get what I want...and you’ll get what you want. Everything will work out.”
“Provided that Josh Duvane doesn’t kill you first.”
He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “I won’t be the one dying.”
The needle jabbed him once more. “Don’t be so sure of that...”
And there was just something in that low tone... His eyes narrowed.
“But the first thing we have to do...we need to make sure the Feds have the right suspect in their sights.”
* * *
JOSH WAS COMING toward her. Casey hurriedly climbed out of the patrol car. “Tell me you found something,” she began.
“Agents! Sheriff Black!” a voice thundered out.
She whirled around and saw that Finn was running toward them. His flashlight bobbed. “Found...something...got to see...” He gasped out each word. “Body...” He motioned behind him. “On the beach...come on...”
They all rushed to follow him. The sand flew in their wake and sure enough...
Oh, God. She saw the body, sprawled on the shore. The waves were hitting it again and again. A man’s body, facedown, a heavy gash near his forehead. The flashlights lit him up and she saw his swollen, too pale skin. She also saw the tribal tattoo around his upper arm—an arm that was cast out to his side.
“I know him.” She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
“Chaz Fontel.” Josh’s voice was grim. “Damn it.”
Yes, it was Chaz. He’d been talking to her—flirting with her—just hours before.
Now he was dead?
She looked up at Josh. He was still staring at the body, a hard frown on his face.
The wind blew against them, and the waves rushed toward their feet.
* * *
“I’M SORRY.”
Casey’s feet were dragging as she crossed the threshold into the penthouse, but at Josh’s words, she glanced back. “For what?”
He shut the door. Secured the lock. “For not taking better care of you.”
“It’s hardly your fault two psychos came after us tonight.”
“I shouldn’t have taken you to the beach house. The guy was obviously waiting there. I led you right into his trap.”
She ignored the aches and pains in her body. “We were both in his trap. And I’m very glad that we’re both okay right now.”
He stared into her eyes. “I don’t like for you to be hurt.”
Casey offered him a wan smile. “Fair enough, I don’t like being hurt, either.” But her smile slipped away. The tension between them was so thick and dark. “Have you seen this before? Two killers, working together?”
“It’s rare, but it happens. Tucker would say that one’s usually the dominant and the other is following orders.”
Right. “Do you think... Chaz’s death has to be related, doesn’t it? I mean, you saw his head—he’d been hit. More than a few times.” She’d never get that image out of her mind. “He’s talking to you—to me—and later the same day, he’s dead. No way that’s coincidence. He knew something, and someone out there didn’t want him talking to us anymore.”
His head inclined. “Looks that way.”
Frustration beat at her. “Don’t do that.”
His brows lifted.
“Don’t treat me like I’m just some reporter who is pressuring you for details on a case.” She marched toward him and jabbed her index finger at his chest. “This is me. This is you. What’s happening—it’s about us. So don’t pull rank and shut me out. You don’t want me hurt? Fine, but understand this, I don’t want you hurt, either. You matter, and because of me, you’re in the crosshairs, too.” Her words were fast and angry and she couldn’t stop them. “You can’t pull back on me now, so don’t even think of doing it, got me? We’re in this together. You and me, until the end.” She sucked in a deep breath. “If that’s a problem for you—”
He kissed her. The deep, toe-curling kind of kiss that she wanted. The kind that told her she was safe, that she was alive, and that the need between them was as strong as ever.
Fear wasn’t going to stop her. Fear wasn’t going to stop him.
This is you. This is me. This is us.
His hands were around her, warm and tight. Hers had locked around his shoulders. His head lifted and he stared into her eyes. “I was afraid I couldn’t stop him.”
“I was afraid you’d died when the motorcycle crashed.” She’d flown through the air, helpless, and when she’d looked up... “How about we promise not to scare each other that way again?”
He nodded. His expression was still so tense.
He caught her hands and pulled them down. His gaze fixed on the bandages that covered her palms. “Just scratches,” she said. “I must have...tried to brace myself when I hit the pavement.”
“You were lucky.”
They both had been. “Luck won’t last forever.”
“We’ll catch them.”
She had to believe that.
“You want to shower?” Josh asked her. “It will make you feel better. Wash away the bruises and the aches.”
Sounded like a plan to her. “Come with me?”
He smiled. The smile didn’t lighten his eyes. “You get the water going and I’ll be right behind you.”
She turned away from him and headed for the hallway, but she hesitated and had to glance back. Casey found him staring after her with a hard, hooded gaze. She faltered. “Josh?”
“I will do anything to keep you safe.” His eyes glittered. “I hope you know that.”
She did. Once, a man had tried to destroy her by taking away all that she held dear. Josh was the opposite of Benjamin. She saw that so clearly. He was a protector. Fierce and dangerous, yes, but at his heart, he was a man who would fight desperately for the victims.
He’d fight desperately for her.
Did he know...she’d fight just as desperately for him?
KURT ANDERSON STARED at the prison. His old man was in there, locked away behind the heavy walls and secured behind the bars. He wanted his father to rot. To never get out. To never be free.
It was exactly what the guy deserved.
Kurt lifted the beer to his mouth, but stopped, catching himself. Sarah had told him not to drink again. She said that when he drank, he didn’t think clearly. He made mistakes. He wasn’t supposed to make mistakes anymore.
Why am I even out here? He should be at home, but...at his house, the reporters kept showing up. He’d told them to stay off his property, but they were still there.
> Only this time...they were asking him different questions. Asking him if he was the killer.
He wasn’t. He’d never be like his father.
He shifted his car into Park. He needed to get out of there before some of the guards came toward him. They’d ask questions. Hell, they might even call Sheriff Black. The last thing he wanted was to deal with that guy again. Did Hayden think he didn’t see the hate in his eyes? Every time that Hayden looked at him, Kurt knew it was there. Hayden blamed him for what had happened to Jillian West. Hayden had always been crazy for Jill, and Kurt’s dad had nearly destroyed her.
He blames me. Just as much as he blames my father.
What Hayden didn’t get—what no one in that town seemed to get—was that Kurt blamed himself, too. He should have stopped his father. He should have seen the truth, so long ago.
He backed out of the lot, sending gravel spitting up from his tires. He wasn’t going back home. He’d find some little motel and crash for the night. Maybe tomorrow, he’d listen to Sarah and start the therapy that she kept trying to shove down his throat. It was just that he’d thought that sharing crap wasn’t for him.
But I can’t keep going on this way. Hayden actually thought I might be a killer.
He wouldn’t be. He couldn’t be.
His phone rang, startling him. It was his personal line. He’d only given that number out to a few people.
He braked on the side of the road and, fumbling, he pulled out his phone. He stared at the number and name on his screen, confused. Casey Quinn. Right. He’d given her his number after their last meeting. When he’d thought she might actually tell his side of things.
Before she’d been taken.
Why in the hell was she calling him?
Curious, he swiped his thumb over the screen. “This is Kurt.”
“I need your help...”
Chapter Thirteen
She’d taken off her bandages. Stripped. Slid beneath the warm spray of the shower. Casey had left the lights on. She could have showered in the dark. Could have hidden in the dark. But she didn’t want to do that.
She was tired of hiding.
For years, she felt as if she’d just been pretending to be someone else. Cassidy had become Casey and she’d bottled up all of her fears. She’d locked herself down, not letting anyone close. She’d reported on other victims in an attempt to help them.
But inside, she’d stayed the same frightened girl.
She put her head under the spray, and maybe she used it to wash away the tears that trickled down her face. There was so much pain out there—the world was full of pain. But if you really looked, it was also full of good things, too.
She heard the squeak of the door opening. Her head lifted and she saw Josh standing in the doorway. With his eyes on her, he stripped. There was no hesitation from him. No shyness. She wasn’t entirely sure he understood the concept of shyness. Not Josh.
He eased open the glass door and slid into the shower with her. It was a truly massive space, easily big enough for them both. He grabbed the soap and then his big, rough hands were gently washing her skin. Massaging her as he tried to take away her aches and pains.
She closed her eyes and turned her face back toward the spray.
Then she felt his hand still on her back, right over the old scar that had marked her for so long. The scar that had changed her life—and her—forever.
There was a light, soft feathering over the scar and she glanced back—he was kissing the scar. Using such tenderness with her. Her heart ached as she turned to lock her arms around him. Their bodies were wet and steam drifted in the air around them. Their lips met. The kiss was slow at first, sensual as his tongue stroked past her lips. Her breasts pressed to his body, her nipples tight and aching. Every time they came together, the need surprised her. The way the desire built and twisted within her, a hunger that wasn’t weakening. It was just growing stronger the more that she was with him.
He reached behind her and turned off the water. The last drip, drip, drip seemed too loud. They didn’t speak as they slipped from the shower. Right then, Casey didn’t think there needed to be any words. He took a towel and dried her carefully, being extra gentle near her palms and her bruised knees. Then it was her turn. She picked up a towel and slid it over his chest. Her mouth followed the towel’s path. Kissing. Savoring. She pressed her lips to every inch of him.
His body shuddered beneath her touch. She was pretty sure her own desire was making her tremble. She took his hand and led him back into the bedroom. In moments, he had on protection and he was sliding into her. He filled her completely, so perfectly. Her breath came faster, her heart raced and the gentle pace gave way to fierce need. Her nails raked over his back. Her hips surged up to meet him. He slid in and out of her, and Casey had to bite her lip to muffle her cries.
“Don’t.” He stilled. “Give me everything. That’s what I’ll give you.”
He withdrew, only to thrust deep. Her legs locked around his hips and Casey let go. She cried out as the pleasure hit her, and he was right with her, driving hard until he found his own release. Then he shouted her name.
No holding back, not for either of them.
Not ever again.
* * *
HER PHONE WAS ringing again. Casey opened her eyes. She was still in bed, but Josh wasn’t there. Her hand slid out but the pillow next to her was cool to the touch, as if Josh had been gone awhile.
Her phone rang again.
She frowned even as she rose from the bed. It took a few stumbling moments, but Casey found the phone discarded on the floor. Her finger swiped across the screen. “Hello?”
“Kurt Anderson is missing!” Tom said, his voice sharp. “He’s missing and I just saw about your attack on the news. On a freaking competing show! What in the actual hell, Casey?”
She blinked and tried to push her sleepiness away. It was still early, barely 10:00 p.m. according to the clock on the bedside table. She’d just crashed hard after making love with Josh.
Where is he? She wrapped a sheet around herself, toga-style, and crept toward the bedroom door. The door squeaked when she pulled it open. “I’m sorry—I didn’t think to stop and call you while the guy was shooting at me.”
“Casey. I care about you—this isn’t about the story! This is about my friend getting hurt. I’m worried! We’ve known you for years.” His voice actually shook. “I want to know you’re okay. Are you still with the agent? Is he keeping you safe?”
She’d reached the den. “I’m at the safe house.”
“Casey...” He sighed. “Did you hear what I said about Kurt Anderson? He’s missing. You’re attacked and the guy goes missing. He’s coming for you. I know it.”
“He’ll have a hard time getting to me.” Not with the security at that place.
Josh stepped from the kitchen. He was completely dressed—dressed in his khaki pants and button-up shirt. His “FBI clothes” as she thought of them. And he had his holster in place. He frowned when he saw her.
“I can send your bodyguards over,” Tom said quickly. “Katrina said they were down at the club having a drink, and she just went to get them. They’ll be back in no time. Let me send them to you. Let me help—”
“I’m all right for now. I just—Let me talk to Josh for a moment, okay? I’ll call you back, I promise.” Because she had to ask him about Kurt. Had to ask why it looked as if he were about to walk right out of that place without her. She ended the call and set the phone on the counter. “Josh, that was Tom. He said Kurt Anderson is missing.”
A muscle jerked in Josh’s jaw. “The Feds couldn’t find him at his house or any of his usual hangouts. The cops tried tracking his phone, but turned up nothing. His lawyer says he’s just gone to cool off but...”
“But you don’t buy it.
”
“He could be on the water,” Josh said. “At least, that’s what Hayden thinks. When it was cut-and-run time for his father, Theodore Anderson tried to go out on a blaze of glory on the water. With the victims turning up in the ocean, it seems like that might be a possibility we can’t ignore.”
“Do they want you on the search?”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.” His jaw hardened. “And...there’s no reason for me to dive into the water. We aren’t looking for a victim—we don’t have one yet—”
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and recognized the number there. Katrina.
“Go ahead,” Josh said. “Let your friends know that you’re all right.”
She exhaled and grabbed the phone. Casey answered and quickly said, “Katrina, listen, I don’t need the guards right now. Josh is with me and—”
“I’ve got someone new,” a low voice rasped.
She almost dropped the phone.
“It’s time for you to find her.”
Casey lunged forward and grabbed Josh’s arm. Then she frantically switched the phone to the speaker option so that he could hear—
“She’s going to die in your place. Hardly fair, isn’t it? I mean, she doesn’t even have any secrets to tell me. She isn’t like the others. There’s no story with her.”
“Who is this?” Casey demanded.
He laughed. “I have your friend. And she’s going to start bleeding soon. Too bad you got away. I never would have gone after her. But you made me so mad tonight. I don’t like getting shot, you see. Now someone else has to feel the pain.”
“Don’t!” Casey cried out. “You don’t have to hurt her.”
“Don’t have to do anything,” that low rasp told her. “Want to do it.”
Josh had his own phone out. He was texting rapidly and she knew he was probably messaging Tucker and Hayden.
“Think you can find her?” the caller taunted her. “Sheriff Black never got to them in time. Do you really think you can?”
Her frantic gaze met Josh’s. She didn’t know where the perp was—she had no clue. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been rushing away on that motorcycle.