CHAPTER FIVE
“MACEY!” BOWEN SHOOK her once, fear twisting in his gut because she was so still. Flames raged behind him but he couldn’t take his gaze off her. He’d tried to shield her as best he could when the blast launched them into the air, but they’d hit the ground hard. Had she hit her head? His fingers slid into the silk of her hair, searching for a wound.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Breath was just knocked out of me.” Then she was pushing at him. “I’m okay.”
But the fear in his gut wasn’t lessening.
They both grabbed their guns and their flashlights. They’d dropped both in the chaos of the explosion.
The fire was crackling as orange and red flames shot into the air. “He’s here.” Bowen kept his voice as low as hers had been. “The bastard waited for us to go inside and then he set the place on fire.” He’d nearly killed two FBI agents.
He nearly killed Macey.
“We have to search,” she said, her voice a husky breath in the dark. “Each minute that passes is a chance for him to escape.”
If the guy wasn’t already long gone.
There hadn’t been any sign of another vehicle when they arrived, so their perp was either on foot or he’d hidden an off-road vehicle in the woods. During the explosion, he could easily have slipped away on an ATV without Bowen hearing him.
He was watching the place. He waited for us to go in.
The whole scene had been one big trap.
“We need to search,” Macey said again.
He looked back into the darkness. They couldn’t just run into the woods, no plan in place.
They couldn’t—
Then he heard it. The growl of an engine. The bastard was still there. He’d been waiting and watching all along. Did you want to see if we survived? Bowen made sure he had his flashlight and gun at the ready as he lunged toward the woods—and toward that growling engine. Macey’s footsteps pounded behind.
“FBI!” Bowen bellowed. “Stop!”
His flashlight hit on the back of an ATV. He had a quick impression of a man’s broad shoulders, of a black ski mask covering the guy’s head, and then that ATV zipped forward.
“Freeze!” Bowen shouted, but the guy wasn’t stopping. He was rushing right through the woods, twisting and snaking down the mountain. Bowen took aim, firing, and the bullet slammed into the back of the all-terrain vehicle. He heard the clink as the bullet hit metal, and for an instant, the driver swerved.
But the ski mask–covered asshole didn’t stop.
Bowen raced after him, shoving branches and bushes out of his way. Macey was with him, giving chase at full speed. He lifted his hand, firing again at the fleeing man.
The ATV vanished.
What? He rushed forward, running as fast as he could and he saw that the woods seemed to just damn well drop. He threw out his arm, but Macey had already staggered to a stop next to him. From that vantage point, Bowen could see the ATV hurtling right down that slope as the driver moved like a fucking madman. He was zigging and zagging so that they didn’t have a shot. Bowen pulled out his phone and dialed the captain. As soon as Harwell answered, Bowen filled him in on what had just happened, demanding backup so they could try to intercept the fleeing perpetrator.
“Maybe we can catch him at the base of the mountain,” Macey said as soon as Bowen finished the call. “Come on!” She whirled and they raced back for their SUV.
And that was when they realized that the perp had slashed their tires. All fucking four of them.
* * *
THE KILLER HAD gotten away.
Macey stood near the remains of the cabin, watching the firefighters do their best to contain the blaze. She knew that the last thing they wanted was for that fire to get out of control and reach the woods. The firefighters had set up a strong perimeter to contain the flames, and the men and women in uniform were working like mad to douse the cabin.
Smoke drifted into the air, mingling with the darkness of the night. Cold air had settled around them, heavy and thick.
The local authorities hadn’t been able to intercept the perp on the ATV, and the guy had made sure that Macey and Bowen couldn’t follow him. He’s as organized as we suspected. Planning every move in advance.
“Can’t believe he tried to kill you two.” Captain Harwell strode toward her, giving a rough shake of his head. “Federal agents, I mean...the guy doesn’t fear anything or anyone, does he? Talk about a piece of work.”
Her gaze slid to the thickness of the woods. “I’m not so sure he was trying to kill us.”
“Uh, got to disagree there. He set the cabin on fire around you. To me, that seems like a pretty straightforward murder attempt.”
She swallowed. “If he’d wanted us dead, there were easier methods. He could have shot us while we were going into the cabin or waited until we came out and then fired.”
The captain put his hands on his hips. “So then what the hell was he doing?”
“He wanted us to see his work.” She’d been thinking about this as she watched the firefighters battle the flames. “He didn’t destroy the cabin until we got inside. He wanted us to find Patrick Remus. Wanted us to see his body and what he’d done to it.” The nails. Again. The nails had significance. Terrible, horrible significance. “And he could have killed us with the fire, yes, but I think he knew we’d get out. That’s why he went ahead and disabled our vehicle. He was... I think he was almost testing us.”
Harwell gave a low whistle. “Did you pass his test?”
Once more, her attention slid back to the cabin. The flames. The smoke. Macey bit her lip for a moment and then replied, “I’m not so sure that we did.”
* * *
THE FBI HAD booked Macey and Bowen a cabin just outside Gatlinburg, an A-frame perched high atop a mountain. It was too late to see the view beyond her balcony, too late to see anything but darkness. Macey knew she should crash into the bed, but when she closed her eyes, she just kept seeing Patrick’s dead body. Daniel’s body.
The fire.
The nails.
So she wasn’t closing her eyes.
She was upstairs, in the loft bedroom. The loft bedroom consisted of a four-poster wooden bed, a chest of drawers that appeared to be hand-carved, an overstuffed chair and a pool table. Pool tables seemed to be standard fare in the local cabins, an extra activity for families on vacation. The pool table was situated about five feet from the bottom of the bed. She could look past that pool table and see the floor-to-ceiling windows that separated the interior of the cabin from the sweeping balcony. She could see the darkness.
The darkness was better than seeing the dead.
Her steps were slow as she headed toward the windows and the French doors that led outside. The wood creaked beneath her feet, and Macey froze.
Was Bowen awake downstairs? He’d taken the downstairs bedroom. He’d looked as tired as she had when they arrived. Tired, but furious. She’d seen the rage glittering in his gaze. He was pissed that their perp had gotten away.
So was she.
She didn’t hear a sound from downstairs, so Macey slowly opened one of the French doors. The cool air slipped inside, swirling over her legs. She wore an old FBI T-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts. When she stepped onto the balcony, her bare toes curled against the wood. There were stars out there, so many, glittering in the sky. She moved to the edge of the balcony and her hands pressed to the wooden railing. A hot tub was to her left, another staple of cabins in the area. Local cabins seemed to come equipped with all the bells and whistles. The cover was on the hot tub, but she could hear the low hum coming from beneath it—a sure sign that the tub was working. Two rocking chairs were to her right, but Macey didn’t go toward them. She stood exactly where she was and stared into the night.
And she thought about killers.
About the killers who hid in plain sight.
About the killers she’d known. The monsters who’d come into her path while she was at the FBI.
The monster who’d found her long before her Bureau days.
She thought about the man they were hunting now—the perp who’d beaten them to the two most wanted killers.
And Macey thought about Lydia... Poor Lydia Chasing, who’d been in love with a killer and she hadn’t even known it. Now Lydia would be burying her lover.
A lover who’d had nails embedded into his body.
Nails. Why did he use those nails?
She heard the creak of the door opening, and Macey spun around, her heart racing. She hadn’t turned on any exterior lights, so she just saw a big, dark shadow standing in the doorway. But...
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Bowen rasped. “I heard you moving around up here, and I just wanted to check and make sure you were all right.”
Because that was Bowen. Taking care of the world. “I’m fine.”
At her words, he didn’t back away and ease into the cabin. Instead, he came toward her, silently stalking forward. Macey tensed, and her back bumped into the wood of the balcony railing. Instantly, he reached out and his hands curled around her shoulders. “Careful there,” he said, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers pressing through her shirt. “You take a tumble and that’s one very long way down.”
“I’m not going to fall.”
He didn’t let her go. If anything, his hold tightened on her. “I’ll make sure of that.”
His words sounded like a dark promise. She tilted back her head as she gazed up at him. So much darkness, but she could see him now—thanks to the stars. Big, strong Bowen. Dangerous Bowen. “You shielded me today.”
He didn’t speak.
“You don’t have to do that,” she continued, trying to make her voice brisk. “You don’t need to take the fire for me.” Because that was exactly what he’d done. He’d put himself between her and the blaze. And when the cabin had exploded, he’d grabbed her and held tight, using his body to block hers so that she wouldn’t get burned. She knew he’d gotten some blisters. They’d both gotten bruises. It could have been much worse. And if it had been, Bowen would have taken those injuries. All because he was trying to protect me.
“You’re my partner. I’m supposed to look out for my partner.” He was still holding her, but his hands had moved down to wrap around her wrists now. Macey shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.
And everything to do with him.
He’d been the perfect agent all day, not saying a single word about the previous night. As if it had never happened. As if she’d never gone wild in bed with him. His gaze had barely seemed to glance over her. His tone had been almost painfully polite before they’d gotten to that crime scene at the cabin.
When she’d gone to him in North Carolina, Macey had told Bowen it would just be for one night. She’d promised him that nothing would change. It sure looked as if he were following her rules.
So why do I want him to break those rules so badly?
“He’s...he’s going to attack again.” She pulled away from Bowen because she found that she liked his touch too much. Something she hadn’t expected at all. Since her attack, she hadn’t liked to be touched. But with Bowen, it was different. He touched her, and she ached—she wanted. “The perp we’re after isn’t going to stop. Obviously, he’s planned all of this in advance. I mean, getting Lydia and Patrick up here, then killing Patrick right after his attack on Daniel—”
“You think he deliberately scheduled his attacks so that one would follow right after the other.”
She’d been considering this, again and again. While the firefighters had battled the blaze, she’d tried to get inside the killer’s head. “If he did that—” Macey exhaled on a slow breath “—then he would have needed to plan Daniel’s murder in advance, too. He would have needed to know that Daniel was hiding in North Carolina the whole time.”
His body tensed before her. “And the bastard was what—waiting for us to find Daniel?” But he didn’t give her a chance to answer. Instead, he growled, an angry, rough sound, and said, “That would mean that our perp let Gale Collins die. He knew exactly what Daniel Haddox was. He knew where Daniel was, and he didn’t tell anyone. He just waited until he’d lined up all his little chess pieces.”
“He waited until we entered the game.” She licked her lips. “And then he went in for the kill.” Macey hesitated a moment, and then she made herself say the suspicion that wouldn’t leave her alone. “Our perp could have even used Gale as bait, to lure Daniel into an attack. Her eyes, Bowen. Her eyes. When she crossed his path, he would have immediately been drawn to her. Our perp would know that, if he had studied Haddox’s work.” And she was betting he had.
If Macey was right, then the perp had viewed Gale as disposable. A perfect victim to be used so that he could spring his trap.
He wanted the FBI to know where Daniel was... In order to do that, he needed the perfect victim. A victim that Daniel wouldn’t be able to resist.
“The bastard profiled Daniel Haddox,” Bowen said.
Yes, she feared that was exactly what he’d done.
“He found the perfect victim for Haddox, and then he waited to see what would happen.” He took a step back. “He profiled you.”
Her heart lurched in her chest. “What?”
“He knew you were looking for Haddox. Knew you were studying victims, always searching for a kill that could be Haddox’s. Our perp knew you’d bring Gale’s murder to the attention of the team. He was counting on it.” He gave a low whistle. “He wanted us here. He wanted you here. Whatever he’s doing, I think the bastard is just getting started.”
That scared her, and FBI agents weren’t supposed to be afraid, were they? They were supposed to be the ones always ready to act. The ones eager to find the danger and stop the monsters.
But the more she learned about the monsters out there, the more she feared them.
The human monsters are far worse than any fairy-tale nightmare that children fear.
“We should get some sleep, Mace.” Bowen’s voice had become even rougher. “Something tells me tomorrow is going to be another long day.”
Right. Sleep. Too bad that when she closed her eyes, Macey saw all the things she didn’t want to face. The Doctor is finally gone, but nothing is better. “Good night, Bowen.”
He turned away and paced back toward the door, but then he stopped. Tension seemed to fill the air between them. In the next breath, he’d spun back to face her. “We’re not going to talk about it at all, huh?”
Her lips parted.
“I’m not supposed to bring it up? Supposed to act like things are normal between us?”
She wasn’t sure things had ever been “normal.” That was a bit of a stretch. Things had always been a bit strained between them. The awareness—that primitive attraction—had always been there simmering just beneath the surface.
“Nothing to say, Macey? That’s not like you.”
She swallowed. “I wasn’t...myself last night.”
“Really? Because I sure thought I was fucking you.”
Macey flinched.
He swore. “That’s not what I... Hell. I don’t ever say the right thing with you. Don’t ever do the right thing with you.”
She thought he’d done things pretty right last night. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and tried to explain things better. Macey figured he deserved an explanation. “Daniel’s death...it messed me up.”
“Understandable.” He stalked toward her.
“I felt like I was being torn apart on the inside.” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “I wanted to escape the pain. You were my escape.”
A beat of silence. The uncomfortable kind, and then he asked, “Is that all I was?”
Her cheeks burned, and she was glad he wouldn’t be able to see her blush in the darkness. “You’re my partner. You’re my friend.” One of the few friends she had because Macey had learned not to let people get too close. If you let the wrong person close...
His hand lifted and his fingers slid over her cheek. “I am your partner. I am your friend.” His hand curled under her chin. “And I’m your lover.”
One night. Just one.
“Remember that,” he said as his head came toward her. She thought he was going to kiss her. Macey tensed but she didn’t back away. I want his kiss. I want his mouth.
I want him.
“Remember that,” he whispered. “When you need someone to take away the pain again.”
Then he let her go and he backed away. Bowen walked off the balcony and went back into the cabin. Macey waited a few moments, pulling in deep breaths of that crisp, mountain air before she crept into the room. Her steps were almost sluggish. She turned off the lights. She climbed into the bed.
She closed her eyes—
She saw death.
* * *
HE WAS A fucking idiot.
Bowen glared at the darkness above him. He was stretched out in the bed—a king-size four-poster. He’d stripped. He’d crashed. He should be asleep.
Instead, he was wishing he’d put his mouth on Macey.
Fucking. Idiot. Her lips had parted. He’d heard the little catch in her breathing, the slight moan. She’d wanted to be kissed by him.
Why did I walk away?
His hands were fisted beside his body. And he ached. His cock was hard and swollen and Macey’s sweet scent was in his head. She was in his head. The woman was making him crazy.
The floor creaked. The faintest sound near the door. In a flash, he was up, the bedside lamp was on, and he grabbed his weapon from the nightstand.
And he had that weapon aimed—at Macey.
Macey in her sexy T-shirt, the soft cotton clinging so well to her curves. Macey with her shorts skimming the top of her gorgeous legs. Macey with her eyes so wide as she stared at him.
“Sorry,” he rasped, aware that his voice was far too rough. That was how he often felt around her—too rough. “Reflex.” A by-product of the job. Sometimes he just couldn’t turn things off. He lowered the gun and put it back on the nightstand.
Macey took a step closer to him. “I can’t sleep.”
Because she’d had one hell of a forty-eight hours. Seeing the bastard who’d tortured her again...finding the guy’s body. He knew that had taken a toll on her. Then today—shit, the explosion had been far too close for comfort and—
“I keep thinking about you.”
Bowen shook his head, sure he hadn’t heard her right.
“One night was supposed to be enough.”
He’d never thought one night with her would be enough. Not with the voracious hunger he had for her. He wanted his hands on her body. Wanted his mouth on her. Wanted his cock in her. But he was trying to play by Macey’s rules.
“But I want more.” She took another step closer.
His body felt as if it had turned to stone.
He watched her as she closed the distance between them, and then her soft hands were rising to press against his chest. “I know we’re crossing lines.”
They were destroying lines.
“But it’s just you and it’s just me here right now.” She licked her lower lip. His cock jerked. He wanted to be the one licking. “And I really need you tonight.”
She was using him. He got that. Macey wanted the rush she felt in his bed to banish the darkness around her. He might not have as many fancy degrees as Macey or Samantha did, but he understood people. He understood criminals and he understood victims.
Macey rose onto her toes and her lips pressed lightly to his.
His hands clamped down on her hips. “Wait.”
A shudder went through her body and he realized just how hard this was for her. Did the woman think he’d actually turn her away? Her?
Fuck, no.
“Want to make sure I’m clear on this...” His voice was even deeper. Closer to a growl now. “During the day, it’s hands-off.”
“If the FBI brass finds out we’re together, we won’t be partners any longer.”
No. They’d be separated.
“So, yes.” She swallowed. “Hands-off during the day. But at night...”
Her words had trailed away.
“Anything goes?” His hands tightened around her hips. He knew his hold was probably too hard, but he couldn’t help it. When a guy held his wet dream in his hands, he was going to hold on tight. And never let go.
“Anything goes,” she whispered back, and he was done. He took her mouth, his need for her clawing to the surface. The kiss was hard, desperate—because it had truly been one bitch of a day. Adrenaline still rode him hard with the kind of charge that even three showers hadn’t been able to cool. In the dark, he’d thought far too much about what could have happened in that gasoline-soaked cabin.
He could have lost her.
His tongue thrust into her mouth. He loved her taste. Sweet and wild at the same time. Her little tongue flicked against his, and he lifted her up against him, carrying her to the bed. The first time wasn’t going to be soft and gentle, wasn’t going to be long.
Something was different that night. He was different. His control was barely in check.
She could have died. Fucking died right beside me.
He lowered her onto the bed, and her legs dangled over the side. Bowen grabbed the top of her shorts and he yanked them down.
No underwear.
“You’re trying to make me insane.”
His hands went to her thighs and he shoved them apart. Then he was touching her, stroking her clit and sliding two fingers into the hot heaven of her sex. Her hips arched against him, and she moaned. He worked her with his fingers, making sure she was ready, needing her to be wet and open for him. His fingers drove in and out, in—
“I want you inside when I come.”
He grabbed a condom and rolled it on. She still had her T-shirt on and her long legs still sprawled over the edge of the bed. It was a high bed, putting her at just the perfect location.
He yanked her hips a bit closer to the edge of the mattress. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and he plunged deep, standing up as he took her that way. His hands slammed down, locked with hers, and he pinned her hands to the mattress. In and out he drove, thrusting deep because he could fill her so completely from that angle. Her moans broke into the air, her hips shoved up against him, and her sex closed greedily around him.
Tight.
Hot.
Fuck.
She came—a fast, hard release that had her nearly screaming his name. He kissed her, taking her mouth even as he took her body. Her climax had her inner muscles contracting around him, and he let go. He drove into her and held nothing back. Wild and deep. Again and again.
His climax ripped through him, a release heavy and hard, and he didn’t think it would ever fucking end.
When it did, when the pleasure ebbed and he could suck in a deep breath, Bowen stared down at Macey. He was still holding her hands in his. Still buried balls deep in her.
“Again,” she whispered.
Fuck, yes.
* * *
SHE SLIPPED FROM his bed before dawn. Bowen let her go, keeping his eyes closed even though he’d woken the instant she’d pulled away from him.
Bowen could hear the softest rustles as she dressed. Then the creak of the stairs as she slipped back to the loft. When he was sure she was gone, his eyes opened.
The day was coming. That meant...
Hands off.
His jaw locked.
For now.