He tasted her. He claimed. He—

“The cop was still here,” Cooper growled against her lips. “I didn’t want him suspicious.”

He was kissing her for a cover.

Had she moaned? She’d definitely sunk her nails into his shoulders. She’d even arched against him.

“I … I know,” she lied. Their mouths were barely an inch apart. “The kiss was a good idea.”

A car cranked. The engine growled.

“I’m guessing that’s him,” Gabrielle said as she kept her hands on Cooper. But she did retract her nails. “Pulling away?”

He nodded. “I’m not letting you go until he’s gone.”

The Girl

Next Door

Cynthia Eden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author CYNTHIA EDEN writes tales of romantic suspense and paranormal romance. Her books have received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, and she has received a RITA® Award nomination for best romantic suspense novel. Cynthia lives in the Deep South, loves horror movies and has an addiction to chocolate. More information about Cynthia may be found on her website, www.cynthiaeden.com, or you can follow her on Twitter (www.twitter.com/cynthiaeden).

Thank you so much to the fabulous staff at Mills & Boon Books. Working with you is a pleasure!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Excerpt

Chapter One

Cooper Marshall burst into the apartment, gun ready as his gaze swept the dim interior of the room that waited for him. “Lockwood!”

There was no response to his call, but the stench in the air—that unmistakable odor of death and blood—told Cooper that he’d arrived too late.

Again.

Damn it.

Cooper rushed deeper into that darkened apartment. He’d gotten his orders from the top. He’d been assigned to track down Keith Lockwood, an ex–Elite Operations Division agent. Cooper was supposed to confirm that the other man was alive and well. He’d fallen off the EOD’s radar, and that had sure raised a red flag in the mind of Cooper’s boss.

Especially since other EOD agents had recently turned up dead.

Cooper rounded a corner in the narrow hallway. The scent of blood was stronger. He headed toward what he suspected was the bedroom. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, so it was easy for him to see the body slumped on the floor just a few feet from him.

He knelt, and his gloved fingers turned the body just slightly. Cooper pulled out his penlight and shone it on the dead man’s face.

Keith Lockwood. Cooper had never worked with the man on a mission, but he’d seen Lockwood’s photos.

Lockwood’s throat had been slit. An up-close kill.

Considering that Lockwood was a former navy SEAL, the man shouldn’t have been caught off guard.

But he had been.

Because the killer isn’t your average thug off the streets.

The killer was also an agent with the EOD, and the killer was trained just as well as Lockwood had been.

No, trained better.

Because the killer had been able to get the drop on the SEAL.

Cooper’s breath eased out in a rough sigh just as a knock sounded on the front door.

The front door that Cooper had just smashed open moments before.

He leapt to his feet.

“Mr. Lockwood?” A feminine voice called out. “Mr. Lockwood...i-is everything all right?”

No, things were far from all right. The broken door should have been a dead giveaway on that point.

“It’s Gabrielle Harper!” The voice called out. “We were supposed to meet...”

His back teeth clenched. Talk about extremely bad timing. He knew Gabrielle Harper, and the trouble that the woman was about to bring his way was just going to make the situation even more of a tangled mess.

Cooper holstered his weapon. He had to get out of that apartment. Before Gabrielle saw him and asked questions that he couldn’t answer for her.

He rose and stalked toward the bedroom window. His footsteps were silent. After all of his training, they should have been.

Gabrielle’s steps—and her high heels—tapped across the hardwood floor as she came inside the apartment.

Of course, Gabrielle wasn’t just going to wait outside. She was a reporter, no doubt on the scent of a story.

And she must have scented the blood.

She was following that scent, and if he didn’t move, fast, she’d follow it straight to him.

Cooper opened the window then glanced down below. Three floors up. But there were bricks on the side of the building, with crevices in between them. If he held on just right, he could spider-crawl his way down.

The floor in the hallway creaked as Gabrielle paused.

She should have called for help by now. At the first sign of that smashed door, Gabrielle should have dialed 911. But, with Gabrielle what she should do and what she actually did—well, those could be very different things.

If she wasn’t careful, the woman was going to walk into real trouble one day—the kind that she wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

He slid through the window. Since it was after midnight, Cooper knew he’d virtually disappear into the darkness when he climbed down the back side of the building.

He’d make it out of there, undetected, provided he didn’t fall and break his neck.

He eased to the side, his feet resting against the window’s narrow ledge. He pulled the window back down and took a deep breath.

“Mr. Lockwood!” Gabrielle’s horror-filled scream broke loud and clear through the night.

She’d found the body.

Jaw locking, Cooper made his way down that building.

Gabrielle had just stumbled into an extremely dangerous situation. Now he’d have to do some serious recon in order to keep her out of the cross fire.

* * *

IT WASN’T HER first dead body.

Gabrielle Harper stood behind the patrol car, her gaze on the apartment building. The cops had rolled in quickly after her call then they’d pushed her out.

They hadn’t needed to push her so far. She knew better than to contaminate the scene. They didn’t have to worry about her destroying evidence.

Not my first dead body. But the sight of Lockwood’s slit throat had still made nausea rise within her.

“Tell me again,” Detective Lane Carmichael said as he leaned back against the patrol car and studied her with an assessing gaze, “just why you were at Keith Lockwood’s house in the middle of the night?”

A crowd had already gathered.

Her gaze slid away from Lane’s and toward the apartment’s entrance. The body was being wheeled out through the double doors. Lockwood had been zipped up in a black bag. Bagged, tagged and taken away.

She swallowed.

“Gabrielle.”

The snap of her name jerked her attention back to Lane. His suit was wrinkled, his dark hair was tousled and his face was set in grim, I’m-sure-not-pleased-with-you lines.

That was typically the way Lane looked at her. Even when they’d been dating—briefly—he’d often given her that same look.

She worked the crime beat in Washington, D.C., covering stories for the Inquisitor—both the paper and its online subscriber base. Since Lane was a homicide detective, their paths crossed plenty.

That crossing had been good when they were dating.

Now that they weren’t—not so good.

“Lockwood called me,” she began.

“Dead men don’t make phone calls.” His arms were crossed over his chest—his interrogation stance. “The ME estimates that he’s been dead for over seven hours. Try again.”

Seven hours. She filed that helpful detail away for later. “He called me around eight a.m. The guy left a voice message for me, saying he had some info to share about a story I’d covered.”

Lane’s head tilted. “Just what story would that be?”

Gabrielle pushed back her hair. It was summer in D.C., and she was sweating. “The unsolved murder of Kylie Archer.” A woman whose body had been discovered in her apartment months ago. Kylie’s throat had been slit.

Just like Lockwood’s.

Even in the summer heat goose bumps rose on her arms.

“I need everything you’ve got on Lockwood, Gabby,” Lane told her, his voice grim. “Everything.”

But she could only shake her head. The body had been loaded into the coroner’s van. Uniforms began to walk back into the apartment building. “I don’t have anything to give you. He called me. Left a message for me to meet him at this address after midnight. He mentioned Kylie’s name and said he had more information for me.” She was trying to cooperate, didn’t Lane get that? “I’d just run a piece on the web, highlighting Kylie’s unsolved murder, so I figured that Lockwood had seen it and he had a lead to share with me.”

Once a month, she featured an unsolved crime in her column. Thanks to those features, she’d helped close three cold cases.

Lane should thank her for that help.

His glare said he wouldn’t be thanking her anytime soon.

“What if the killer had still been inside that apartment?” he demanded. “What if he’d come at you with that knife?”

She had mace in her bag. Not much as a weapon, but it was something. “No one was there when I arrived.”

“You sure about that?”

Pretty sure since she’d gone through every room in that place. “I—”

“Gabrielle?” A surprised voice. Male. Rough. Very distinct.

When a woman heard a voice like that—so deep and hard and rumbling—she didn’t forget it.

She fantasized about it. She enjoyed it.

She didn’t forget.

“What’s going on?” That voice continued, and then a warm, strong hand closed over her shoulder. “Is somebody hurt?”

She turned and faced the owner of that sexy voice—Cooper Marshall. Tall, gorgeous and with a smile that had made her heart skip a beat the first time she met him.

In other words—trouble.

“Someone’s dead,” Lane said before she could respond to Cooper. “And if Gabrielle doesn’t learn to be more careful, she could wind up the same way.”

Cooper’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Dead?”

“You need to clear out of here,” Lane said, speaking to her and giving another of his firm nods. Lane liked his firm nods. “There’s no way any civilians are going to get near that crime scene tonight.”

That was not what Gabrielle wanted to hear. She had definite plans to explore that apartment, because she suspected that Lockwood had been in possession of some evidence that she could use.

“Catch the train, Gabby,” Lane advised her as he turned away, “and call it a night.”

A police car pulled away.

Cooper kept holding her. His touch sure felt warm.

She glanced at him again. Cooper was wearing black—a black T-shirt and pants, and the guy actually seemed to blend with the night. For such a big guy, she’d found that he blended easily.

But then again, he’d told her that he was a P.I. Private investigators were supposed to be extremely good at blending.

“What did you stumble on this time?” Cooper asked her, the growl kicking up in his words.

“Oh, the usual.” She tried to keep the tremble from her voice. Failed. “A witness who was murdered before he could talk to me.”

Cooper swore.

Yes, yes, that was how she felt, too.

“Forget the train. I’ll take you home.” Then he was pulling her with him and away from the crowd that had gathered on the street. “I was on my way home when I saw the lights. I thought I’d stop by and see what was happening.” He spared her a glance. “A dead man, Gabrielle?”

Yes, well, finding Lockwood dead hadn’t exactly been on her agenda.

Cooper’s motorcycle waited at the side of the road. He climbed on then tossed her the helmet. “Just hold on tight, and I’ll have you home soon.”

She caught the helmet, but hesitated.

“What?” The light from the streetlamp fell on his face. It glinted off his dark blond hair and made him look even more handsome—and dangerous. “Don’t you trust me for a little ride? Come on, we’re neighbors. It’s not like the trip is out of my way.”

He was right. They were neighbors. They shared a brownstone—just the two of them.

When she’d moved in four months ago, she hadn’t been sure what to expect from her male neighbor. Her landlord had told her that Cooper regularly worked out of the country, that she probably wouldn’t hear a peep from him.

She’d heard some peeps. And so far, he hadn’t been out of the country.

On her first day in the apartment, she’d baked him chocolate chip cookies. She had a thing about baking—it soothed her. So she’d strolled down with her cookies to say hello.

She’d gotten a good look at him, standing in the doorway, tall and sexy, and she’d almost dropped those cookies.

“Gabrielle?”

She shoved on her helmet and climbed onto the motorcycle behind Cooper.

He laughed. “You’re going to have to sit a little closer than that. And put your arms around me.”

She’d put her arms behind herself and was currently gripping the back of the seat.

He revved the engine. The bike kicked to life and when it shot forward, her hands flew up and wrapped around Cooper.

She gripped him as tightly as she could.

All muscle.

She could feel his rock-hard abs beneath her hands. No big surprise. She’d heard him working out before. Boxing. The guy loved to punch.

She’d seen him sporting an assortment of bruises since she’d met him, so she figured he must do more than just hit his punching bag. The guy probably fought at a local ring. The image of Cooper, bare-chested, fighting...well, that was an image that had sure floated in her mind before.

The motorcycle zoomed through the city, flying through intersections, cutting closely around corners. At one point, Gabrielle had to squeeze her eyes shut because she was pretty certain they were going to crash and become nothing but a mangled pile of limbs.

“We’re here.”

Her eyes cracked open. Sure enough, they’d made it to the brownstone. Located off the main streets and nestled in one of the few, quiet corners of D.C., the brownstone stood with its porch lights blazing.

She loved that place.

“You can...um, release that grip on me now,” Cooper told her.

Gabrielle realized that her nails were digging into his shirt—into him. “Sorry,” she muttered and jumped from the bike. “I’m not exactly a motorcycle fan.”

He shoved down the kickstand, and then took his time rising from the bike. “Really? And here I thought you liked to live on the wild side.”

What? Since when?

“Coming in at all hours of the night,” he murmured as he brushed past her and headed up the steps that would take them inside the brownstone. “Covering the most dangerous cases in the city. You sure seem like a woman who enjoys living on the edge.”

She wasn’t going to touch that one.

As they paused on the narrow porch, the wind chime that she’d hung up a few days before pealed softly. The sound soothed her, at least a little bit.

Gabrielle followed him inside. A large, curving bannister led to the apartment upstairs. Her place was up there. His apartment was downstairs, right below hers. They both had a key to the main door, and she watched as he secured that door.

He’d gotten her home, so this was where they should part ways. Only she found herself hesitant to leave him. Maybe it was the image she still had of poor Keith Lockwood. I can still smell the blood. No, she wasn’t in a hurry to rush up those stairs and spend the night all by herself.

Gabrielle already knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. She’d be too busy remembering the sight of that body.

So she lingered at the foot of the stairs, studying Cooper.

He turned toward her and cocked his head. Then his eyes, a shade of a blue that electrified her, narrowed. “You’re scared.” He stalked toward her.

Gabrielle stiffened at the accusation. “I’m a little shaken. I found a dead body. I get to be shaken.”

He stopped less than a foot from her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry that Mr. Lockwood is dead. Maybe if we’d met earlier, if I’d just gone by his place sooner instead of waiting for our meeting time—”

“Then you might be dead, too,” he said, cutting through her words.

Gabrielle pushed back her hair. “He asked me to meet him. He called and said that he had a tip for me.” So much blood. “I guess someone wanted to make sure he never got the chance to deliver that tip.”

He took her hand.

Her breath rushed out. In four months, he hadn’t touched her. Until tonight. He’d touched her at the crime scene, and now he was touching her here.

She hadn’t expected his touch to unsettle her so much. But it did. Awareness pulsed through her as she stared into his eyes.

“Come with me,” he invited softly. “You shouldn’t be alone after what happened.”

“I’m always alone.”

He frowned.

Wait, those words had come out wrong. That was her problem. She was good at writing. When she was talking, Gabrielle had a tendency to say the wrong thing. She cleared her throat and tried again, “What I meant was that I don’t mind being alone. It’s late, and I should be getting upstairs.”

He used his grip on her hand to tug her toward him. “It’s late all right, but I’m betting you’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your body that sleep is the last thing on your mind.” His eyes glittered down at her. The guy easily topped six foot two, maybe six foot three, and he had the wide, broad shoulders that a football player would envy.

When she looked up at him then, she didn’t see the danger that she normally perceived.

She saw strength. Safety.

“I know a thing or two about adrenaline rushes. I can help you ride it out.”

He didn’t mean that sexually, did he? Because they were nowhere close to having a sexual relationship. No matter what a few heated dreams might have told her.

“Come on.” He guided her toward his door. She’d never actually been past the threshold of his place, so curiosity stirred within her.

Curiosity. It had been her downfall since she was a kid.

He opened the door. The alarm immediately began to beep, and he quickly punched in a code to reset the system.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?” Cooper offered. “I’ll grab us both a drink.”

Her gaze shifted around the room. Ah...there was the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in what looked like a workout room that branched from the living area.

The hardwood floor gleamed in the apartment. A leather couch and armchair were centered around a very large TV. Typical. What wasn’t so typical...

She didn’t see a single family photograph. Actually, there were no photographs at all in the place.

The walls were bare and painted a light brown.

A small hallway snaked off to the left, and she found herself leaning forward to peer down that dark corridor.

“My bedroom is back that way. The guest room, too.” His breath blew against her ear and Gabrielle gave a little jump. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “There something in particular you’re hoping to see?” Cooper asked

“Ah, no, nothing.” She pasted a fake smile on her face and turned toward him. “I don’t know why I came in here. I should let you get some rest.”

“I don’t sleep much.” He lifted his right hand. His tanned fingers had curved around a clear glass. “For you.”

“Thanks.” She put it to her lips and nearly choked when she took a gulp.

Whiskey.

“A few sips might help you to calm your nerves.”

Uh, no.

He downed his own glass in seemingly one swallow. “It’s been one hell of a night,” he muttered as he set his glass down on the nearby end table.

She put her glass down, too. The whiskey was burning her throat. When it came to drinking, she was way too much of a lightweight.

“You don’t want to take the edge off?” Cooper asked her, frowning slightly.

She sank into the couch. I should be heading for the door. “I don’t mix so well with whiskey.”

“I can make you something else...”

“No.” The leather was supple beneath her fingers. Tension still held her body tight, and she kept thinking—

“It doesn’t do any good to keep picturing the dead.” Cooper sat next to her. His thighs brushed against hers. “Turn around.”

“Wh-what?” Now that was just sad. He was making her so nervous that she was actually stuttering.

“You’re so stiff you’re driving me crazy,” he said.

She turned around. His hands reached for her shoulders. Oh, no, there was no way those fighting fists were going to give any kind of relaxing massage—

His fingers began to knead her flesh.

Gabrielle’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. She was wrong. So very wrong. His fingers were magic.

“I can help you to relax. Just breathe. Don’t picture him. Get that image out of your head.”

The man was way too good with his hands. “Is this...how you usually deal with adrenaline?”

A soft laugh. “No, I usually use sex.”

The tension snapped right back in her shoulders.

“Relax,” Cooper ordered, “that wasn’t an offer.”

Oh, right.

“Unless you want it to be...”

Trouble. She’d known that the guy was serious trouble from day one.

“What cold case are you working on?” He asked before she could do more than suck in a shocked gasp of air. “I know you told me that you were starting to profile them.”

She had told him that, during one of their brief two-minute conversations when their paths occasionally crossed. “Kylie Archer. Her case isn’t as old as the others, but the cops don’t have any leads, so I thought I could try digging.”

“That digging led you to the body?”

“Keith Lockwood,” she whispered. The image of his body tried to push into her mind again, but she shoved it back.

He kept rubbing her shoulders. His broad fingers were sliding down her back.

Her thighs shifted restlessly.

“He knew who killed the woman?”

“I don’t know.” She would find out. As soon as the cops backed off, Gabrielle would be making her way back inside that apartment.

Her eyes drifted closed as he kept caressing her skin. His fingers skimmed over the edge of her arms. Then he returned his attention to her shoulders, started working down. Down...

He pushed lightly against her lower back.

Gabrielle had to bite back a moan. That felt so good.

But...was a massage supposed to turn a girl on?

This one is. No, correction...he is.

“You didn’t see any sign of anyone else in that place?”

“The door was open when I went inside. Someone had shattered the lock. When I saw that, I knew something was wrong.”

His fingers stilled. “You knew something was wrong, and you still went rushing in? You should have called the cops first!”

“Lockwood could’ve been hurt. That’s why I went in. As soon as I saw the body, I called 911.”

“Next time,” his deep voice rumbled as he started his massage once more, “do me a favor, okay? Call the cops before you rush in and find yourself facing a killer.”

She wanted to melt into a puddle. His hands were heaven. The tension was gone. Well, all but the sexual tension. The sensual awareness she felt was heating up.

And that’s my sign to leave.

His fingers were very close to her hips. And she was arching against his touch like a cat.

Get a grip, Gabrielle. It’s just a massage. It’s not lovemaking.

But she almost wished that it was.

Gabrielle jerked away from his touch. “I have to go.” She jumped to her feet.

He stared up at her.

“Thanks for the ride home. And the drink. And the massage.” She was rambling. “Good night.” Then she scrambled for the door.

“Gabrielle.”

His voice stopped her just as her fingers closed around the doorknob.

“If you get scared, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Good to know. She tossed him a quick, nervous smile, then she fled. No other word for it.

A smart woman ran from trouble.

* * *

THE WOMAN WAS going to be trouble.

He’d known that, of course, the minute she moved in.

Long, black hair, golden skin, dark eyes... And a body that sure made him want to sin.

Gabrielle Harper was the last person he’d expected to find in his life. A reporter, right upstairs?

Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

If Gabrielle ever found out what he really did for a living, if she found out about the secret government group known as the EOD—

Can’t happen.

There were only a few civilians with clearance to possess intel about the Elite Operations Division. Too-pretty and too-tempting Gabrielle couldn’t learn about his group.

Secrecy meant survival for the EOD agents. He would do anything to secure that survival.

Anything necessary. Those were his orders, after all. They’d come straight down from the top—from the director of the EOD, Bruce Mercer.

And anything necessary...well, that included a little breaking and entering.

Cooper had waited a few hours, until he was sure that Gabrielle had finally drifted into slumber. Then he’d commenced his B&E routine.

It was ridiculously easy to get inside Gabrielle’s place. Since he’d installed the locks right before she moved in, Cooper had a key to her apartment.

He also knew her security code.

Again, because he’d installed the system.

She’d left a light on in her hallway. The faint glow spilled into the living area.

Her place was an exact copy of his. Only instead of a workout area, Gabrielle had an office in that side space.

The office was his destination. But first, he had to make sure that he wouldn’t be disturbed.

He crept toward her bedroom. Cooper pushed the door open just a few inches.

Another light was on in there. A closet light this time.

Gabrielle didn’t like the darkness. Odd, considering that her job sent her right into the dark path of criminals every day.

The glow fell on the bed, on her.

She’d kicked away her covers, and she lay on her side. Gabrielle wore a pair of jogging shorts and a faded college T-shirt. Her legs were long and bare and perfect.

Killer legs. Truly killer.

Her eyes were closed. Her right hand curled, palm up, on the edge of the bed. Sexy and vulnerable—a dangerous combination.

He took a deep breath and smelled her. A light scent. Lilac. He knew it only because she always smelled that way. He’d had to figure out the scent because it was driving him crazy.

The first day he’d met her, she’d come to him, a sweet smile on her face and a tray of chocolate chip cookies in her hands.

He’d gobbled up the cookies. He’d wanted to gobble her up. He still did.

Focus on the job.

Carefully, Cooper backed away from the door. Then he made his way to the office. Booting up her computer was easy. Figuring out her password was a bit harder. Luckily, he’d had some help from the EOD on that end.

Another agent, Sydney Sloan Ortez, had created a program that let him bypass most security walls on systems like Gabrielle’s.

It took sixty seconds, and he was in.

He found Gabrielle’s files on Lockwood. With a few clicks, he transferred copies of those files to his flash drive.

Then... Sorry, sweetheart, I hate to do it but... He uploaded a virus to her computer.

The EOD didn’t want Gabrielle getting involved in Lockwood’s murder. Mercer had given him an order to throw her off the killer’s scent.

Now they had her case notes. Her files.

She’d have to start over from scratch once again. That would buy him some time.

Enough time to hunt a killer.

* * *

WELL, WELL, WELL...

It seemed that Cooper Marshall was the agent on his trail.

He’d seen Cooper in the crowd outside of Lockwood’s place. He’d known the reporter was going to meet Keith, so figuring out that the police would be called after midnight hadn’t been exactly hard.

He’d watched the scene with interest.

He certainly hadn’t expected to see Cooper Marshall rush through the crowd and go straight to the reporter’s side.

Then to leave with the woman...

Interesting.

Perhaps Gabrielle Harper was more important than he’d originally thought.

He would learn more about her. Then he would determine...was she valuable enough to bring into his game?

Or was she a pawn that could be eliminated?

Chapter Two

Gabrielle slid under the yellow police tape that blocked the entrance to Keith Lockwood’s apartment. The cops had tried to repair the lock on his door, but their attempt hadn’t been exactly successful.

That lack of success made getting in much easier for her.

She’d waited for night to fall once more. Waited to make sure all the cops had cleared out of the place.

She wasn’t waiting any longer.

Gabrielle tiptoed into the apartment. She didn’t turn on any lights. Lights would be seen from the street below, and she wasn’t about to advertise her B&E stint.

So instead of turning on the overhead lights, Gabrielle pulled out a small flashlight. She crept carefully through the apartment. Her first stop was the desk near the kitchen. She opened the top drawer.

Empty.

The second drawer—

Empty.

The third—

Totally cleaned out.

Her eyes narrowed. There had been a computer on that desk last night. It was gone now, so she’d have to check in with Lane to see if the cops had confiscated it. No doubt, they had. Their tech department would search it and when they were finished, she’d just call in a favor from said tech department and get them to spill their results to her.

She turned away from the desk. There were other places to search.

Like the room where she’d found the body.

Her shoulders squared as she headed down the hallway. The scent of death still hung in the air. She hated that smell.

Her foot pressed down on the wooden floor. The long, low creak made her stiffen, but she kept going.

Then she was in the bedroom. Her flashlight illuminated the floor and the outline of the body. The blood had stained the wood.

So much blood.

Gabrielle exhaled. She hoped that Lockwood had died quickly. No one deserved to suffer.

She forced herself to look away from that outline. Her gaze and her light darted around the room. She could see a chest of drawers, a dresser and a nightstand. No photographs. Just like Cooper’s place.

That wasn’t normal. She edged closer to the nightstand positioned to the right of the bed. People usually kept photographs of family and friends in their homes. Light touches to personalize the place.

At the edge of the bed, her foot stepped down on something hard.

She heard the crunch of glass.

Gabrielle winced—so much for being good at crime scenes—and she bent down. She’d stepped on a frame. One that had dropped to the floor and slipped under the edge of the bed.

So Lockwood did have at least one picture.

She turned the frame over. Pieces of broken glass fell onto the bed.

Her light scanned over that photo. Her breath came faster. Her heart raced.

The picture was of Keith Lockwood. He was smiling in the picture, and he had his arm around a pretty, blonde woman.

Gabrielle easily recognized Kylie Archer. She’d seen plenty of pictures of that woman before.

What were you going to tell me about her? What? Gabrielle sure wished the dead could talk.

She backed away from the bed, still studying the photo. Backed away and backed into someone.

Someone big and strong.

Gabrielle opened her mouth to scream.

The scream never escaped because a hard hand covered her mouth. And even as that hand covered her mouth, an arm rose around Gabrielle and jerked her closer to—

“Easy,” that familiar deep voice told her, as Cooper’s breath blew against the shell of her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you, and a scream would just send the neighbors rushing to call the police.”

Because he’d scared her, Gabrielle elbowed him in the ribs. He let her go with a grunt.

Gabrielle whirled to confront him. “What are you doing here? This is a crime scene!” She aimed her light right at his face.

He winced. “Trying to blind me?”

She thought that might only be fair since he’d just tried to scare her to death.

“And, yes, I know it’s a crime scene,” he said, sounding aggrieved. “That’s why I wondered what the hell you were doing in here.”

“You followed me?” Her voice was a whisper. He must have followed her. There was no other explanation. But why?

He shrugged. “After last night, maybe I was a little worried about you.”

Oh. Wait. That was...nice.

The sneaking up on her part? Not so nice. “I didn’t even hear you.” Not so much as a sound.

“I’m used to sneaking in and out of places.”

His comment sounded a bit sinister.

“And speaking of out, we need to go.” But he was frowning now. “What are you holding?”

Her right hand gripped the flashlight. Her left still held the picture frame.

She took the light off his face and let it fall on the photo. “See how close they are? The way his hand is wrapped around her? I think Lockwood and Kylie Archer were involved.” Lovers. Their bodies rested so easily against each other. “And, judging by the way they were killed—with their throats slit and with no sign of defensive wounds on their bodies—I’m also suspecting that the same person killed them both.”

Silence.

She’d expected more after her big reveal. Gabrielle cleared her throat.

“How do you know there were no defensive wounds?” Cooper asked.

“Because I had time to check Lockwood’s body before the cops got here.” She also knew exactly what to look for regarding those types of wounds. “The thing that doesn’t fit for me is the broken lock. Kylie’s home didn’t have a broken lock. Her door was locked, from the inside, and the cops were the ones to break their way inside.”

Again...more silence. She wasn’t really used to working with someone else on her stories, but she expected him to say something.

“Uh, Cooper?”

“Leave the picture. We need to go now.”

“But I want to search some more. I need to—”

“When I parked, I saw a cop car coming down the street. I double-timed it up here to you, because I was worried the officer might be coming in for a sweep.”

Her eyes widened. She dropped the photo to the floor. Mostly in the same spot. “We need to go now.”

She grabbed his hand and rushed down the hallway.

She dodged the squeaky floorboard.

So did he.

She paused. He hadn’t stepped on the squeaky floorboard when he’d first come in the apartment, either. The squeak would have alerted her to his presence. “How did you—”

“Hurry.”

She kept going. She slid under the police tape, hustled into the hallway.

And heard footsteps.

Gabrielle darted to the edge of the stairs, and she saw the cop. Lucky for her, he was looking down, not up, so he didn’t see her.

Cooper wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her back. “Come on.” He pulled her with him.

Lockwood’s apartment was the only one on that floor. There weren’t exactly a ton of places for them to hide.

“Storage,” he muttered, moving toward a narrow, white door.

She hadn’t even seen that door at first.

He opened it and pushed her inside.

It was the size of a closet. A very small, very overstuffed closet. Her body plastered against his.

“Not a sound,” Cooper barely breathed the words.

She gave a jerky nod. Gabrielle could hear the footsteps then. The cop going to the apartment, going right past the storage closet.

But what if he comes back?

The closet smelled of ammonia. It had to be where the cleaning supplies were kept for the building. It was pitch-dark in there, so she couldn’t see anything, and Gabrielle wasn’t about to turn on her light.

There was silence in the hallway.

She figured the silence meant that the cop had entered the apartment.

If Cooper hadn’t gotten me out of there, the cop would have walked right in on me.

Explaining her way out of that situation wouldn’t have been easy.

Cooper still had his arm around her. Her hips and derriere pressed against him. Her back was to his chest. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breaths.

He didn’t seem shaken. Not even a little.

Meanwhile her own breath seemed to heave out far too loudly.

She didn’t move, didn’t try to ease away from Cooper. She was too afraid she’d stumble onto another piece of flooring that would creak and give away their position.

After a seeming eternity, the cop’s footsteps sounded in the hallway again.

The footsteps faded away as he descended the stairs.

Her shoulders slumped. She tried to pull away from Cooper.

“Not yet. Let’s give him a chance to get good and gone.”

She stilled. Tight, dark spaces weren’t so high up on her list of favorite things. Actually, they were dead last on that list. But she wasn’t alone right then. That was something.

Cooper. Why did she feel so safe with him? A man she barely knew?

Because he just saved you and you’re going to owe him now.

“Can you try...” He whispered in her ear. She shivered as he continued, “Can you try to avoid committing any more crimes for the next few days?”

“No promises,” she whispered back. “My computer crashed, and I’m back to square one on this case.” Not totally true. She had backup files.

Not an amateur.

His hold eased. “I think we’ve waited long enough. Let’s just head out, nice and slow, okay? Follow my lead.”

Right. She could do that.

He opened the door, looked to the left and the right. He went down the stairs first. Cooper kept a tight hold on her hand when they escaped from that building.

Then they were outside. The night air was muggy and thick, and it felt like heaven after the ammonia-filled confines of that closet.

“Thanks,” she began with a weary smile, “I needed your—”

His eyes had been over her shoulder, on the street, but he suddenly grabbed her and yanked her close.

Cooper kissed her.

It wasn’t some easy, getting-to-know-you kiss. Not tentative. Not light.

It was hot. Hard. Openmouthed.

Toe-curling.

Fantastic.

His arms wrapped around her. He lifted her up against him, and Gabrielle’s toes barely skimmed the ground.

His tongue licked across her bottom lip then thrust into her mouth. He tasted her. He claimed. He—

“The cop was still here,” Cooper growled against her lips. “I didn’t want him suspicious.”

He was kissing her for a cover.

Had she moaned? She’d definitely sunk her nails into his shoulders. She’d even arched against him.

“I—I know,” she lied. Their mouths were barely an inch apart. “The kiss was a good idea.”

A car cranked. The engine growled.

“I’m guessing that’s him,” Gabrielle said as she kept her hands on Cooper. But she did retract her nails. “Pulling away?”

He nodded. “I’m not letting you go until he’s gone.”

His body was so warm.

The kiss had been a fake.

Humiliating. Maybe she’d played it off, though. Maybe.

They stood there, embracing, mouths so incredibly close, and in that moment, Gabrielle realized a very important fact.

Cooper was aroused.

If she hadn’t been so distracted a moment before, she would have been keyed in to that situation sooner. She was so focused on the hot feel of his mouth she hadn’t realized until now that the hips thrusting against her—

He freed her.

Gabrielle stopped feeling quite so humiliated. He had been affected by the kiss. Mr. Dangerous had gotten just as caught up as she had in the heat of the moment.

“We need to get home,” he said in that deep rumble of his. “Come on, my bike’s waiting.”

Her phone vibrated, jerking in her pocket. She’d turned the ringer off before her little stint of B&E. “Hold on,” Gabrielle told him. She yanked out her phone and recognized her boss’s number at the Inquisitor.

“Gabrielle...” Cooper gritted out.

“It’s my boss. Calling after midnight. I have to take this.” Because there was only one reason Hugh Peters would call her this late.

A story.

“What is it, Hugh?”

“I just heard on the police scanner...” Excitement thickened his voice. “They got another vic. A female. Same MO as Archer.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Where.”

He rattled off the address.

The address was close, just a few blocks away. She could jog there.

She would jog there.

“You get there and you find out what the hell is happening, got it?” Hugh said. Before she could answer, he continued, “Three kills? This mess is starting to look like the work of a serial.”

His words chilled her. “We can’t know that, not yet.”

Cooper’s gaze was on her.

“Get there and find out,” Hugh ordered.

She shoved the phone back into her pocket. “Thanks for the offer of the ride, but my night’s not over yet.”

No wonder the cop had rushed away. She tilted her head and heard the wail of sirens in the distance.

Cooper stiffened. “What’s happened?”

“Another woman has been found with her throat cut.” She spun away from him. It was a good thing she jogged regularly. “I’ll see you later, Cooper. Thanks for the help!”

He grabbed her wrist. “You’re racing to a murder scene?”

“It’s what I do.” He was slowing her down.

Cooper shook his head. “Going on foot isn’t the way. I can get you there faster.” He pointed to his waiting motorcycle. “Just give me the address, and I’m there.”

She didn’t want to waste time arguing. She called out the address even as she climbed onto the bike. Seconds later they were racing away.

* * *

“IT LOOKS LIKE the same MO,” Cooper said into his phone. He’d backed away from the crowd, found the best cover of shadows, and now he watched the chaotic scene with a careful gaze. “One of the cops said that the victim was a woman named Melanie Farrell.”

“She’s not one of ours,” the clipped voice on the other end of the line responded. That voice belonged to Bruce Mercer. Cooper’s boss. A man who knew where every single secret was buried in D.C.

Mostly because his job was to bury those secrets.

“You sure about that?” Cooper pressed. “She was found in her apartment, with the doors locked. Her throat was slit, and there were no signs of a struggle.”

A low whistle. “You sure learned a lot on this one, fast.”

His gaze tracked over to Gabrielle. She was currently talking quickly to a uniformed cop. The cop looked nervous. Since Gabrielle was grilling him, the guy should be nervous. “I had a little help.” She’d been the one to get all of those details.

“The reporter.” A long sigh slipped from Mercer. “I thought you had her contained.”

Containing Gabrielle was a bit of a challenge. It was a good thing that he liked challenges. “I can use her. The cops tell her more in a few minutes than they would ever reveal to me.” He had the P.I. cover for a reason, but Gabrielle’s resources were proving to be far more useful.

Gabrielle eased away from the cop and gazed up at the building.

Trying to find a way inside, aren’t you?

She edged toward the left, moving near the alley that he knew snaked behind those apartments.

“Melanie Farrell is not one of our agents.” Mercer was adamant. “She shouldn’t be targeted by our rogue.”

The rogue—the EOD agent that Cooper was hunting.

“Kylie Archer wasn’t an agent, either,” Cooper said, going with his gut.

“Who?”

“She was killed a few months ago. Again, same damn MO.”

“Our guy has been busy.” Anger heated Mercer’s words.

Our guy. Because they did think it was one of their own. One who’d tried to attack Mercer by going after his daughter and now...

“I found out that Kylie was romantically involved with Keith.” Well, Gabrielle had found that out.

He couldn’t see her now. Cooper’s body tensed.

“The guy tried to get at you by taking away the one person who mattered,” Cooper said.

Mercer’s daughter.

“He couldn’t get her, so maybe he decided to attack other agents by going after the people they valued.” It was a theory that he was just developing, but so far, the pieces fit.

“That idea only plays,” Mercer said slowly, “if we can link Melanie to an EOD agent.”

“Sydney can find a link.” If anyone could, it would be here. Sydney Sloan Ortez was in charge of information retrieval for the EOD. When it came to computers, no one was better. She could dig into any person’s life with her machines. Could, and had.

“I’ll get her started,” Mercer promised. “In the meantime, you keep tracking this rogue. He knows our agents, he knows us, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with these attacks on my watch.”

Mercer hung up. Cooper pushed the phone into his back pocket. Gabrielle had slipped into the alley, and she’d never glanced back to see if anyone was watching her.

She should learn to pay attention to what—who—was behind her.

He’d sure gotten the drop on her easily enough in that apartment. If he had been the killer, she would have died.

His back teeth ground together as he stalked toward the alley. He’d had no idea that his neighbor was so drawn to danger.

Just like me. But he knew why he liked the thrill that came from danger. That burst of adrenaline made him feel alive.

What drew Gabrielle into the darkness?

* * *

THE FIRE ESCAPE led all the way up the side of the building. Gabrielle studied that fire escape, considering the options. It would sure be easy enough for the killer to slide through a window in the victim’s apartment then flee down the fire escape.

Was that why the front door was locked? Did you get out this way?

She slipped deeper into the alley. The voices were muted here. Her shoe brushed over a discarded aluminum can. The acrid odor of rotten garbage was strong in that alley.

Gabrielle glanced to the left. A green garbage container sat to the side. The alley snaked away a bit then opened to another street.

Since there were no lights in that area, it would have been easy enough for the killer to hide down there.

“You’re in the wrong place.”

The whisper drifted to her. When the words sank in, Gabrielle froze.

“You shouldn’t be here, all alone...”

She whirled around. That voice was coming from the shadows near the garbage container. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Laughter. Low and chilling. “Not yet...not yet...”

Goose bumps rose on her arms.

“Gabrielle!”

That was Cooper. A shout had never sounded more wonderful.

Before she could call out to him, something—someone—grabbed her and shoved her into the brick wall of the alley. Her head hit the bricks, hard, and her body slumped.

“Not yet...” That whisper told her once more.

Then she didn’t hear anything else.

* * *

SHE HADN’T ANSWERED HIM.

Cooper rushed forward, running fast. She’d just been out of his sight for a few minutes. The cops were close by. Gabrielle couldn’t just vanish.

A crumpled form lay curled near a garbage container.

Gabrielle.

He didn’t realize that he’d bellowed her name. But in the next instant, he was on his knees beside her, frantically searching for a pulse at the base of her throat.

The pulse beat slow, steady, beneath his fingers.

He brushed back her hair. Her head slumped weakly against his hold.

What in the hell had happened?

His gaze flew around the alley. It was too dark to see much.

And he didn’t hear anyone.

“Gabrielle?” His fingers shifted through her hair. When he found the bump on the side of her head, he swore.

Then he stood, holding her carefully in his arms. She needed help.

“Freeze!” a male’s voice shouted.

He wasn’t in the mood to freeze. He was in the mood to get Gabrielle help.

Light from a flashlight hit him in the face. That light was so blinding that it made viewing the person connected to that voice hard. The man was little more than a shadow.

“Gabrielle?” The guy’s voice roughened. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Cooper growled. “When I found her, she was unconscious. I’m trying to help her.” And you’re slowing me down.

The light came closer.

“I’m not armed,” Cooper told him. That wasn’t true, but the man wouldn’t notice the weapons he carried. They were too well concealed. “We need to get her help.”

He could see the man’s face now. It was the detective from the other night, Lane Carmichael.

“I remember you,” Carmichael said, obviously placing him. “You were at the other crime scene, too.”

Great. Not the connection Cooper wanted the detective to make. If he wasn’t careful, the cops would start looking at him for the kills.

He wasn’t sure his P.I. cover could stand up to their perusal.

Carmichael yanked out his radio and called for backup—and an EMT.

A moan slipped from Gabrielle’s lips. Under the flashlight, her lashes began to flutter. She blinked a few times then seemed to focus on him. “C-Cooper?”

“It’s all right,” he tried to reassure her. “I’ve got you.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “S-saving me...again? You’re making a h-habit of it...”

Yes, he was.

The EMT ran toward him. The man reached for Gabrielle.

For an instant, Cooper had the crazy urge to keep holding her. I don’t want to let her go.

But he never got too close to anyone or anything. That was the way he wanted his life to be. The way it had always been.

He let her go.

As she was taken away from him, Cooper’s shoulders tensed. He was going to find out exactly what had happened to Gabrielle in that alley.

Once more, his gaze swept the area, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

With this killer, I wouldn’t.

The ambulance’s siren blared, and Cooper found himself hurrying toward that sound.

* * *

HE HADN’T BEEN able to resist. The woman had been right there. All alone.

She was the one who kept digging into his life.

So he’d thought it would only be fair that he started to play with her life.

The fact that she was connected to Cooper Marshall was just bonus. The connection made things even more interesting.

I can use her.

But not yet. She didn’t matter enough. Not yet.

He whistled as he walked down the street. Plenty of tourists were still out. Even this late, the streets were full of people.

It was easy to blend with those people. To walk right past the overworked cops.

Cooper had climbed into the ambulance. He was playing hero. That wasn’t a role well suited to the man.

He and Cooper were a lot alike. That was why Mercer had Cooper hunting him.

Darkness clung to them both. They were loners. Killers.

In the end, though, only one of them would survive this game.

It wouldn’t be Cooper.

Pity. He’d once called the man friend.

Now, he just thought of Cooper Marshall as a target.

Chapter Three

Gabrielle took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her skirt. Then she lifted her hand and knocked soundly on Cooper’s door.

She had a proposition for him, one that she very much hoped he’d accept. She wanted—

The door swung open. Only Cooper wasn’t the person standing on the other side of that door.

A very pretty woman with glass-sharp cheekbones and shoulder-length black hair stared back at Gabrielle.

A date. He’s on a date. The kiss—the one she ridiculously thought about far too much—had been fake. As good-looking as Cooper was, of course, the guy had a pretty girlfriend.

“Can I help you with something?” The woman asked. Her voice was smooth. Friendly. Her smile was a little uncertain.

“I was looking for Cooper.”

“He’s in the shower—”

The floor could truly open up and swallow her. She’d been indulging in some serious fantasy time with Cooper, and he’d been...busy...with this lady.

“—but you’re welcome to come in and wait for him, if you’d like.” The woman backed up, pulling the door open a few more inches. “You’re his neighbor, right? The reporter?”

She didn’t want to cross that threshold. She didn’t want to, but Gabrielle still needed Cooper’s help. “Yes. I am.” She offered her hand. “Gabrielle Harper.”

The woman’s shake was firm and warm. “I’m Rachel.”

You weren’t supposed to dislike people you didn’t know. She’d just met pretty Rachel. Rachel seemed friendly. Rachel also seemed to be eyeing her with a gaze that was a little too assessing.

Then Cooper appeared. He strode down the hallway, a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. No shirt. His hair was wet. Fresh from the shower.

When he saw Gabrielle, he came to a very fast and hard stop.

“Company,” Rachel murmured as she dropped Gabrielle’s hand. A faint smile curled her lips. “I was just getting acquainted with your nice neighbor.”

Cooper’s blue gaze narrowed. Then he started walking again, a determined stride that carried him right to Gabrielle. “How’s your head?” His hands lifted, as if he’d touch her head. “I’m sorry I left you at the hospital—I’m not family, so the doctors wouldn’t let me stay with you.”

She caught his hands, flushed. “I’m fine. My dad always did say that I had a hard head.”

He didn’t smile. “You were unconscious in that alley. When I first saw you, I was afraid that you were dead.”

She was still holding his hands in front of his girlfriend. This scene was so awkward. She stepped back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt when you had company. I can come back later.” She sidled toward the door. “It was, uh, nice to meet you, Rachel.” Total lie.

Cooper gave a rough bark of laughter. “Rachel isn’t company. She’s—” But then he broke off, frowning. “Wait, who do you think she is?”

That was a weird question, but Gabrielle blurted, “Girlfriend?”

Rachel was the one to laugh then. “He should be so lucky.” She bent and scooped up a designer bag. “We’re just friends. No worries on that score.” She winked at Gabrielle. “Maybe that makes it nicer to meet me?”

It did.

Rachel inclined her head toward Cooper. “And maybe you can meet up with me and Dylan later? I know he’d love to get an update on you.”

Cooper gave a quick nod. “Will do.”

It had to be her imagination, but Gabrielle could have sworn the enthusiasm in his voice was faked.

Rachel slipped away a few moments later, and Cooper locked the door behind her.

Gabrielle’s hands twisted in front of her. It had been almost two days since she’d last seen him. She’d thought about him plenty during that time.

Especially when the flowers arrived at the hospital—lilacs, her favorite. There hadn’t been a card, just the flowers.

“You sure that you’re okay?” He took her elbow and guided her to the couch.

She’d be better—less distracted—if he put on a shirt, but Gabrielle nodded. “I needed to thank you, both for finding me in that alley and for the flowers. I, um, lilacs are my favorite.” She wore a lilac-scented body lotion, because she loved the smell so much.

His blond brows lifted. “How do you know they were from me?”

She blinked. Embarrassment burned through her. Since she wasn’t dating anyone, she’d just assumed they were from him. “I—”

He laughed. “You sure are pretty when you blush. And, yes, they were from me.” His fingers brushed back a lock of her hair. “I’m glad you liked them.”

She had those lilacs upstairs, sitting in a vase on her kitchen table. Every time she looked at them, she smiled.

But you’re here on business. Don’t get distracted. Gabrielle cleared her throat. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

His hand lowered. She was hyperconscious of the strength of his body next to hers. “Sure. Give me just a minute, okay?” He rose and disappeared down the hallway.

She didn’t move. She wanted to move. She wanted to pry and search—

Hold that curiosity back.

She stayed locked to the couch. He returned quickly, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. The man certainly seemed to enjoy wearing black.

“I was about to make some dinner. Want something?”

Gabrielle shook her head.

A half smile lifted his lips. “Come on, I make a mean spaghetti. It’s a recipe I stole from Rachel. Her family’s Italian, and no one does spaghetti better.”

Her stomach growled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.

Then he headed into the kitchen. She heard pots and pans clanking. Gabrielle rose and followed after him. “I didn’t come here so that you would fix me dinner.”

He already had the water set to boil. Tomatoes were spread out on the counter.

“That’s right,” he said easily. “You came here to ask me questions. So ask.”

While he cooked? She’d expected something a little more...businesslike.

“Ask.” He sliced the tomatoes. Fast and with almost fanatical skill. She’d never seen anyone be so good with a knife.

“I...um...” She exhaled slowly. Stop being frazzled with him. “Did you see anyone else in that alley with me?”

He stopped slicing. He glanced at her, held her gaze. “It was dark. I could only see you.”

That didn’t mean that no one else had been there. “Did you hear anything?” Gabrielle asked carefully.

He dropped the pasta then came toward her while the sauce simmered. “No, I didn’t hear anything.” He propped against the counter and studied her. “Why?”

“Because I don’t remember falling.”

“After a head injury like yours, I know it’s common to forget—”

“What I do remember,” she said, speaking quickly and cutting through his words, “is a man’s voice.”

“What?”

“I told Lane—Detective Carmichael, but he said the alley was searched thoroughly, both before and after my ‘accident,’ and there was no sign of anyone else there. Anyone else other than you, anyway.”

Lane wasn’t exactly a fan of Cooper’s. In fact, he seemed pretty suspicious of Cooper. But then, Lane was suspicious of most folks. That was his nature.

“If you’re trying to ask me if I slipped into the alley and slammed your head against a wall...” She saw Cooper’s knuckles whiten as he clenched the edge of the countertop. “The answer is no, I didn’t do that.”

Gabrielle quickly shook her head. “That wasn’t the question I was asking. I know you didn’t do it. You’re the guy who keeps rushing in to save me, not hurt me.”

He blinked. A furrow appeared between his brows. “That’s a whole lot of trust to give someone. You don’t know me that well.”

“I know you well enough to realize you aren’t a killer.”

He gazed steadily back at her. “Do you?”

What kind of response was that? It almost sounded as if he were trying to scare her. “Look, it wasn’t your voice.”

Cooper held up a hand. “You’ve lost me.”

“I remember hearing a man’s voice. It wasn’t your voice.”

Now there was doubt in his blue eyes. Lane had looked at her with the same doubt when she’d tried to explain this situation to him.

His hand fell back to his side. “There was a lot going on that night. It would be easy to get confused. Especially with that bump on your head.”

“A minor concussion.” She waved it away.

He stepped from the counter and caught her hand. “You don’t shrug away an injury like that. Head injuries can be dangerous.”

When he touched her, her heart beat faster. An electric current seemed to run through her body. Just from a touch. “That’s why I stayed in the hospital. To make sure everything was okay.” And because her boss at the paper had insisted on it. Hugh had told her she either stayed or she looked for a new job.

He didn’t take kindly to his reporters being hurt.

She didn’t take kindly to being hurt. “I know what I heard.”

His gaze turned guarded. “Then tell me.”

“A man grabbed me in that alley. He told me that I was in the wrong place.” The memory of that rasping voice rolled through her mind. “And then he said...not yet.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t remember his face?”

“I remember the feel of his hands grabbing me. I remember the rasp of his voice, but his face?” If only. “No, I don’t remember that. I’m not even sure if I saw him. I was hoping that maybe you’d seen something.”

“You were the only thing I saw.”

He turned away from her. Cooper spent a few moments in silence as he finished preparing their meal.

“It could’ve been a mugger,” she said to his back, as he reached for some plates. “I didn’t have a purse with me, so maybe that’s why he ran after I passed out.”

“It could have been.” He shut the cabinets with a rough motion of his hands.

“It could also have been the killer.” That was her fear. Her suspicion. “I think he escaped the apartment by climbing down the fire escape. He fled through that alley. Maybe he dropped something. Maybe he had to go back for it.” She followed him to the table. “Or maybe he was just one of those guys who enjoys going back to the scene of the crime. Someone who likes to watch the cops spin their wheels and come up with nothing.”

He pulled out a chair for her. “Is that what the cops have?”

She eased into the seat. “Lane says there aren’t any suspects. No prints, DNA or any other evidence was left at the scenes.”

He sat across from her. He picked up his fork.

“I went back to all the crime scenes—” Gabrielle began.

The fork clattered against his plate.

“I didn’t break in,” she rushed to clarify, realizing how he must have interpreted her words. “I looked behind the buildings. Kylie Archer’s place had a fire escape, too. The killer could easily have escaped on it.”

“Lockwood didn’t have a fire escape.”

“No, he didn’t.” The spaghetti smelled fabulous. “But then again, maybe that’s the reason why Lockwood’s front door was smashed in. The attacker didn’t have any other way to get inside, so he had to use force there.”

Cooper ate in silence.

She took a bite of the spaghetti. He hadn’t been lying. It was fantastic. “I’ll have to make you one of my cherry pies,” she said, sending him a nervous smile. “You did dinner, so I can do dessert.”

His head tilted. His eyes heated, the blue getting even brighter. “Sounds like a date.”

“I—” She nearly choked on the spaghetti. “I have a proposition for you.”

That half smile flashed again. Did he have a dimple in his cheek? It looked like he did.

Sexy.

“I’d love to hear the proposition.”

He made it sound...hot. It wasn’t. She put her fork down. “I want us to work together.” She tried not to let the words come out as desperate.

He kept eating.

“I think we could make a good team. We could keep investigating the cases and find the killer—”

“I’m not in the market for a partner.”

Okay. He was going to make her lay everything out for him. She’d have to show that desperation, after all. “But I am in the market for some protection.” Because she was afraid, and Gabrielle didn’t want to let the fear stop her from doing her job. “I think someone has been watching me. I think he has been watching me.”

* * *

“TELL ME AGAIN...” Dylan Foxx began as he narrowed his eyes on Rachel Mancini. “Why is Cooper having a cozy dinner with the reporter? He’s supposed to be keeping her out of this mess and not—”

“—seducing her?” Rachel finished. She’d seen the way Cooper looked at the other woman. She knew exactly what was on his mind.

Dylan shut the door of his office. They were in the EOD headquarters, a place most civilians would never visit. Actually, most civilians would never even know of its existence.

The EOD was a hybrid organization, one composed of former members of various military branches. The EOD had been founded and was still led by Bruce Mercer. The EOD was far off the books, and the agents took jobs that no one else could handle.

Jobs that often ended in violence. Death.

The EOD agents were the ones who went out after the hostages that couldn’t be rescued. They were the ones who eliminated the most dangerous threats in the world.

Right now, unfortunately, one of those threats came from within.

A rogue agent.

Suspicion was rampant in the EOD. Trust, the cornerstone of the agency’s success, was being shattered. If you couldn’t trust the agent who had your back in the field, how were you supposed to complete the mission?

Rachel sank into the chair near Dylan’s desk. She trusted him 100 percent. But she wasn’t ready to extend that trust to all of the agents at the EOD.

They all knew how to kill, lie and keep secrets.

Someone was using those deadly skills.

“I could see them through the window,” Rachel murmured. Not that she enjoyed the Peeping-Tom bit. “They went into the kitchen and the guy cooked.”

“Cooper?” Dylan’s dark brows shot up.

She nodded. “Maybe he’s just trying to get under her guard. The lady has proven to be pretty resourceful.”

“The lady’s dangerous.” He threw himself into the chair near her. Leather groaned. “I ran down her bio. She’s got a trail of awards behind her and a reputation for being a real bulldog when it comes to her stories. She’s latched on to our killer, and I don’t see her just backing away now.”

Not even after a trip to the hospital.

“The more time she spends with Cooper, the more likely she is to discover that his cover is a lie.” Dylan ran a hand through his black hair. “The last thing we need is her trying to air a story on the EOD.”

“We aren’t on her radar.” Rachel had done her own research on Gabrielle Harper. “She works to help victims. She’s not even thinking about us.”

“Not yet, she isn’t. But if she’s used to uncovering secrets, how long do you think it will be before she senses Cooper is hiding something from her?”

“Well that depends,” Rachel said as her gaze held his, “on just how good Cooper is at lying. It’s been my experience that some men are extremely talented when it comes to deceit.”

There was a sharp rap at the door.

Dylan held her gaze for a moment longer. “You know you can trust me.”

Yes, she did, as a partner, as a friend.

As a lover?

No, she couldn’t risk that. She’d gone down the wrong path with a lover before. She still had the scars to prove it—scars that marked her on the inside and out.

She cleared her throat and called, “Come in!”

The door swung open. Aaron “Deuce” Porter stood on the other side of the threshold. His green gaze swept between them. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” His voice was low.

“You’re not,” Rachel said flatly.

Deuce’s lips twisted a bit. Deuce had been with the EOD for years—long before Rachel had come aboard. She’d worked several missions with him and learned quickly why the brown-haired agent had earned the moniker of Deuce.

The man could blend like no other. Undercover missions were his specialty. He often joked that he hadn’t been born with just one face—but two.

Deuce. He could be two people in an instant, and had been, on missions in Rio, South Africa and the Middle East. He could drop an accent, change his walk, even change all of his mannerisms in an instant.

Two men—in one lethal body.

“Mercer briefed me on the case,” he said as he came inside. He closed the door behind him. “I’m supposed to provide backup for your team.” His smile faded. “Seems a reporter is getting a little too close on this one.”

“Yes...” Dylan sighed out his answer. “But Cooper is working on her.”

Now Deuce did laugh. “Well, Cooper has always had a way with the ladies.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed.

“Love ’em and leave ’em,” Deuce said. “If anyone can get the reporter under control, I’m sure it will be him.”

Rachel’s hands clenched into fists. “I think you’re underestimating this woman. A little seduction isn’t going to put her off track.”

“Well, if that doesn’t work—” Deuce’s shoulders straightened “—option number two is a whole lot less pleasant for her. According to Mercer, the woman isn’t to interfere in EOD business. Stopping her is a priority, even if we have to use containment.”

Containment? On a civilian?

Mercer must really be worried. They hadn’t crossed that line, not since—

Rachel cut off the thought. She didn’t want to go into the darkness of her past. Not then.

But Dylan was staring straight at her, and she knew that she’d given herself away.

Sometimes she worried that Dylan was coming to know her too well.

And that scared her to death.

* * *

“SOMEONE’S BEEN WATCHING YOU?” Cooper repeated carefully. He made sure his expression reflected surprise. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I am,” she told him. “You think I don’t know when I’m being tailed? I could feel someone following me for the past day, shadowing me. But every time I turned around...” Her breath blew out. “No one was there.”

He made himself say, “Maybe because no one was there.”

She shot to her feet. “Look, I’m trying to hire you, okay? You don’t have to believe me in order to take the case.”

“I thought you wanted us to be partners—”

Her dark eyes flashed at him. “I’m going to pay my partner for protection.”

She was really afraid. He rose to his feet, slowly uncurling his body until he towered over her. “Are you sure nothing else has happened?”

Her lips pressed together then she said, “I think he was in my apartment.”

Hell.

“My computer... At first I thought it was just some kind of glitch, but I had a tech I know take a look at it. He said my files were deliberately corrupted.”

“Maybe you got a virus—”

“I’ve got top-of-the-line virus protection software. Whatever was done to my system, it was done by a professional.”

Sydney definitely counted as a professional.

“All of the data that I’d had on that computer, all of the files on Archer and Lockwood—they were destroyed.” She lifted her chin and her gaze glinted. “It’s a good thing I had backups, because if I hadn’t, I’d be in serious trouble with my boss.”

His fingers locked around her shoulders. “You have backup files?”

For a second, she almost looked insulted. No, she did look insulted. “I’m not an amateur. This is what I do. I work these cases. I help solve the crimes that cops have to let go cold.”

Why?

“Someone was in my place,” she said again, dogged. “I know he was there.”

“How? Did your alarm go off—”

“No, but my computer...it was moved. Just a few inches, but I could tell.”

It figured she’d be that observant.

Gabrielle pulled away from him. “Look, if you won’t help me, fine. I’ll find someone else who will.” Then she marched toward the door.

He stared up at the ceiling. This was so tangled. This was so—

The door opened.

In a flash, he rushed across the room and slammed the door shut. “I’ll be your guard.”

“Partner.”

He turned her in his arms. “If that’s the way you want to play it.”

Gabrielle nodded. His body was flush against hers. Those kissable lips of hers were just inches away.

Focus.

The problem was that he was focusing, way too much on her.

“What will I owe you?”

His back teeth clenched. “My standard rate is five hundred a day.” He totally pulled that number right out of the air.

Her eyes widened.

Too high.

“But I’ll work out a deal with you,” he rushed to say, because maybe this could work. If he stayed close to her—and he was planning to stay as close as he could possibly get—then he wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking into her place again and destroying any more files. He’d be able to retrieve every bit of intel at the same time she did.

Even better, he’d be able to control the intel that she received.

“Deal?” Gabrielle whispered and she licked her lips.

His whole body stiffened. “Yeah, maybe I’ll get my name mentioned in the byline of your story.” Right. That would be the last thing he wanted.

He put his hands on either side of her head, flattening his palms against the door. He wanted her mouth beneath his. That one kiss hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy him.

It had just made him hungry for more.

“Of course, there is one other thing you can give me,” Cooper said, aware that his voice had roughened even more than normal.

Her breath rushed out. Her hands rose to his chest even as bright flags of color stained her cheeks. “I am not—” she began angrily.

“Pie,” he cut in. “I do believe there was a promise of cherry pie on the table.” And if her cherry pie was half as good as her chocolate chip cookies had been, then he’d sure be one very lucky man.

She stopped pushing him. Her hands rested over his chest and seemed to burn right through the fabric of his T-shirt. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

He smiled at her. She was so cute.

But dangerous.

Kiss her.

Instead, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. “When does this partnership start?”

She glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “I’m really glad you agreed to my deal.” Her head tilted. “Just how good are you at blending into the shadows?”

His lips twitched. “I get by.” If she only knew.

“Good,” Gabrielle said decisively, “because I’ve got a lead for us to follow and our partnership starts right now.”

* * *

HIS OLD FRIEND let him right inside the apartment. But then, he’d expected an easy entrance.

He’d also expected to see the haggard lines of grief on Van McAdams’s face.

“Did you hear?” Van asked as he turned away. The guy left the door wide-open.

Van had better training than that. Much, much better.

“I saw the story on the news.” His gloved fingers closed over the doorknob, and he pulled the door shut. He turned the lock quickly. There could be no time for any disturbances.

Van’s shoulders were slumped as he headed toward the den. “What am I supposed to do now? Without Melanie, I don’t have anything.”

He pulled out his weapon. Slipped silently right up behind the man who mistakenly thought they were friends. “I guess you can join her. You can die.”

Before Van could even turn to face him, it was too late. He’d attacked.

Van’s body hit the floor seconds later.

The killer smiled. So easy. So incredibly—

Voices rose in the hallway. And one of those voices was familiar.

Cooper Marshall.

He stared down at the bloody knife in his hand and considered his options.

Chapter Four

“You’re not coming in with me,” Gabrielle said as she glanced over her shoulder. She kept her voice firm, authoritative. In this partnership, she was the one doing the paying, so it seemed fair that she got to be the one giving orders. Right? “You’re to stay out here.” She gestured toward him, then toward the small hallway. “Lurk. Make sure that no one else comes up here and tries to get in this apartment.”

Because she was following a red-hot lead—one that she wasn’t about to lose.

Kylie Archer had been murdered, and her boyfriend had also been killed in the same manner.

Now that Melanie Farrell was dead, would her boyfriend also follow suit? If the killer acted on the same time line, he could wait months to kill Melanie’s lover.

That means I have time to talk to him, to warn him.

To save him?

Cooper didn’t follow her lurk order. He stepped closer to her. “You need to tell me why we’re here.”

“I did.” On the motorcycle ride over, she’d yelled to him—twice—that she was following up on a lead. Her hand lifted and rapped against the apartment’s door. She’d called and said she was coming by. The guy had been home an hour ago.

“A boyfriend,” he said.

Still not lurking.

“I talked to Melanie’s friend at work. Melanie’s family didn’t know about the guy, but if you’re in deep with someone, the best friend always knows.” It was a woman’s rule. “Melanie called once and had Trish pick her up from this place. I did a little dot connecting, and I found the single guy in the apartment building who fit his description.” A guy who was still not answering the door. “And voilà, I got him!”

“You got him,” Cooper repeated, voice roughening.

She nodded but froze when she heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. That sound had come from inside the apartment.

Her fingers curled around the doorknob and she jerked, hard. “Mr. McAdams!”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.