Chapter Twelve
She hurt. Casey moaned as she opened her eyes. She was on the ground and her whole body ached. When she lifted her hands, she felt the blood on her palms. When they’d crashed, she’d gone flying. She’d hit the pavement, hard, and the skin had torn off her hands—and maybe her knees. Her jeans were wet near her knees and she was—
Someone was standing over her. A man in a black motorcycle helmet. She still had her helmet on, too. “Josh?” Casey whispered. Had he been wearing a dark helmet? Was he—
The man lifted his gloved hand and she saw the knife he gripped tightly.
“Get away from her!” Josh’s roar seemed to echo around her. “Now! I’m a federal agent, and I am telling you to back away!”
Casey kicked out with her feet, aiming for the guy’s shin. He staggered and yelled behind the lowered visor of his helmet. She saw nothing in that darkness—nothing that told her who he was.
“Drop the knife!” Josh yelled.
The guy in the helmet lunged toward her as he swiped down with the knife.
Josh fired. The boom of the gun seemed to erupt around her. Her attacker staggered and the knife dropped from his hand. Josh had hit him high in the shoulder.
Casey shoved to her feet and stumbled back a few desperate steps. She could see Josh running toward her and the perp. Josh’s gun was still out and aimed at her attacker. The guy had grabbed his shoulder. He whirled toward her.
Again, she saw only blackness.
But...she heard the rumble of another motor. One that was coming toward them. So fast.
She looked to the left and saw another motorcycle hurtling down the little road.
And—
The bike braked. The rider lifted his hand and Casey saw that he was armed, as well. Only not with a knife. A gun.
There are two of them.
“Get down, Casey!” Josh yelled.
She was already diving for cover. In the next instant, he was above her and she heard the blast of gunfire once more. Josh rolled them, tumbling them down the small sand dune, and she knew he was trying to shield them both.
Gunfire thundered once more, but nothing had hit her. Her breath sawed from her lungs. Safe. For the moment and—
A motorcycle revved. Tires squealed.
“He’s getting away,” Josh snarled. “Stay down!” He leapt to his feet. She peeked up just enough to see him take aim and fire.
But it was too late.
Her attacker and the second rider—they were both gone.
“Damn it!” She could feel his fury, but in the next instant, Josh turned toward her and his voice shook with worry. “Casey! Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay.” Scrapes, bruises, a little blood. Nothing fatal. She took off the helmet—she’d still been wearing the thing.
“My bike is trashed—I can’t follow them.” He’d yanked out his phone. “We need an APB out for them right now. Two of them. A team, I should have considered it... Two would make everything so much easier. Subduing the victims, transporting them. One could be lookout. One could drive the boat. The other could get rid of the body—”
She could still hear the roar of that motorcycle.
Josh had his phone to his ear. “Tucker, Tucker, listen man. I need you to start a hunt for two motorcycles. Yes, yes, listen to me. We were at the beach house and we were attacked. They just left us—get deputies and agents on the road now... Here’s the description of the bikes...”
*
THEY FOUND THE MOTORCYCLES. They were located less than twenty minutes later. The bikes were dumped near the public beach. The place was deserted after sunset, and the perps had used that to their advantage.
Josh paced near the scene, fury riding him hard. “I let them get away.”
Tucker sighed. “From the sound of things, you and Casey are both lucky to be alive.” He shook his head. “You really think the guy tampered with your bike?”
“I know he did. The brakes were barely working, steering was a nightmare and we were freaking sitting ducks when he turned on us.” The guy had set a trap and Josh had fallen right into it—and he’d nearly taken Casey down with him. “He was going to kill her. The bike was still on top of me, and I couldn’t get to her fast enough.”
Casey had been thrown, and thankfully she’d had the helmet on.
“She didn’t like motorcycles,” Josh muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “The first time I tried to get her on one...” His gaze sought her out. She was in the back of a patrol car—the sheriff’s car—sitting still in the middle of that madness. “She didn’t want to go with me. I had to convince her.”
That moment seemed like it had occurred so long ago.
“You shot him?” Tucker prompted.
“In the right shoulder. So if you want to know with certainty whether or not Kurt Anderson is our perp, you don’t have to wait for tomorrow and the results of the blood work.” His lips twisted. “Go find him right now. See if he has a gunshot wound.”
Tucker nodded. “I already got agents searching for him right now.”
They needed to search faster. “Two of them. Can’t believe that—when the second rider came up, I barely had time to cover Casey.”
“She’s okay.” Tucker gripped his shoulder. “She’s safe.”
“He came after her. They came after her. Just like we feared. She’s in their sights, and they won’t stop, not until they have her.” He gave a grim shake of his head. “I’m not going to let that happen. Casey isn’t going to wind up in the ocean. I won’t go diving down there and find her that way—I can’t.” He forced his gaze to move away from her. His eyes met Tucker’s. “She matters too much.”
“Like that, is it?”
Too fast, too soon, but... Why deny it any longer? Why pretend? “Yes, it’s like that.”
Hayden came rushing up toward them. “The motorcycles were both reported stolen in Pensacola—that was four weeks ago.”
Josh scraped his hand across the stubble on his cheek. “There’s no way they transported the victims on those bikes. They used something else. Something that was at the scene of each crime. There must be a van or an SUV that they have—probably had it waiting right here at the beach so that they could make a clean getaway.” But he didn’t think they’d gone far. No, not far at all.
They would be hunting for Casey again soon.
The local authorities had fanned out, searching the scene. They were going up and down the beach, shining their flashlights across the sand as they searched for possible tracks or evidence.
“You should get Casey out of here,” Tucker continued. “If we find something, I’ll let you know. Screw what FBI brass said—she’s obviously still a target, and her protection should be the FBI’s priority.”
Her protection was his priority. “I almost lost her.” Josh shook his head. “It can’t happen again.” It won’t happen. He stalked toward the sheriff’s car.
*
“STAY STILL! THE bullet went right through you. I just need to stop the blood.”
He clenched his back teeth against the pain. His body had been marked—for a second time. Not part of his plan. He liked to give the pain. Like to watch his victims moan and beg.
“I’m not supposed to be the one bleeding,” he rasped.
The needle jabbed into his skin. A stitch job, to stop the blood. He’d carry that stupid mark forever now.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone off the script and gone after them! I told you to wait. I told you I had things covered.”
“I got sick of waiting.” He was also sick of being told what to do. It had been his plan. His moves. His victims. “It’s ending.” He knew just how it would end, too. He’d known from the beginning.
“Yes, well, it’s not over yet. While you were out screwing things to hell and back, I was eliminating loose ends. That guy at the dock? Chaz? I couldn’t risk him talking. It was only going to be a matter of time.”
The needle jabbed him again. He grunted. “He never saw me.”
“No, he saw me. And I’m not going down for this.” The needle stilled. “Do you understand me? We are in this together. You aren’t going to leave me taking the fall.”
Of course, I am. “Of course, not. You know we have a deal. I’ll get what I want...and you’ll get what you want. Everything will work out.”
“Provided that Josh Duvane doesn’t kill you first.”
He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “I won’t be the one dying.”
The needle jabbed him once more. “Don’t be so sure of that...”
And there was just something in that low tone... His eyes narrowed.
“But the first thing we have to do...we need to make sure the Feds have the right suspect in their sights.”
*
JOSH WAS COMING toward her. Casey hurriedly climbed out of the patrol car. “Tell me you found something,” she began.
“Agents! Sheriff Black!” a voice thundered out.
She whirled around and saw that Finn was running toward them. His flashlight bobbed. “Found...something...got to see...” He gasped out each word. “Body...” He motioned behind him. “On the beach...come on...”
They all rushed to follow him. The sand flew in their wake and sure enough...
Oh, God. She saw the body, sprawled on the shore. The waves were hitting it again and again. A man’s body, facedown, a heavy gash near his forehead. The flashlights lit him up and she saw his swollen, too pale skin. She also saw the tribal tattoo around his upper arm—an arm that was cast out to his side.
“I know him.” She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
“Chaz Fontel.” Josh’s voice was grim. “Damn it.”
Yes, it was Chaz. He’d been talking to her—flirting with her—just hours before.
Now he was dead?
She looked up at Josh. He was still staring at the body, a hard frown on his face.
The wind blew against them, and the waves rushed toward their feet.
*
“I’M SORRY.”
Casey’s feet were dragging as she crossed the threshold into the penthouse, but at Josh’s words, she glanced back. “For what?”
He shut the door. Secured the lock. “For not taking better care of you.”
“It’s hardly your fault two psychos came after us tonight.”
“I shouldn’t have taken you to the beach house. The guy was obviously waiting there. I led you right into his trap.”
She ignored the aches and pains in her body. “We were both in his trap. And I’m very glad that we’re both okay right now.”
He stared into her eyes. “I don’t like for you to be hurt.”
Casey offered him a wan smile. “Fair enough, I don’t like being hurt, either.” But her smile slipped away. The tension between them was so thick and dark. “Have you seen this before? Two killers, working together?”
“It’s rare, but it happens. Tucker would say that one’s usually the dominant and the other is following orders.”
Right. “Do you think... Chaz’s death has to be related, doesn’t it? I mean, you saw his head—he’d been hit. More than a few times.” She’d never get that image out of her mind. “He’s talking to you—to me—and later the same day, he’s dead. No way that’s coincidence. He knew something, and someone out there didn’t want him talking to us anymore.”
His head inclined. “Looks that way.”
Frustration beat at her. “Don’t do that.”
His brows lifted.
“Don’t treat me like I’m just some reporter who is pressuring you for details on a case.” She marched toward him and jabbed her index finger at his chest. “This is me. This is you. What’s happening—it’s about us. So don’t pull rank and shut me out. You don’t want me hurt? Fine, but understand this, I don’t want you hurt, either. You matter, and because of me, you’re in the crosshairs, too.” Her words were fast and angry and she couldn’t stop them. “You can’t pull back on me now, so don’t even think of doing it, got me? We’re in this together. You and me, until the end.” She sucked in a deep breath. “If that’s a problem for you—”
He kissed her. The deep, toe-curling kind of kiss that she wanted. The kind that told her she was safe, that she was alive, and that the need between them was as strong as ever.
Fear wasn’t going to stop her. Fear wasn’t going to stop him.
This is you. This is me. This is us.
His hands were around her, warm and tight. Hers had locked around his shoulders. His head lifted and he stared into her eyes. “I was afraid I couldn’t stop him.”
“I was afraid you’d died when the motorcycle crashed.” She’d flown through the air, helpless, and when she’d looked up... “How about we promise not to scare each other that way again?”
He nodded. His expression was still so tense.
He caught her hands and pulled them down. His gaze fixed on the bandages that covered her palms. “Just scratches,” she said. “I must have...tried to brace myself when I hit the pavement.”
“You were lucky.”
They both had been. “Luck won’t last forever.”
“We’ll catch them.”
She had to believe that.
“You want to shower?” Josh asked her. “It will make you feel better. Wash away the bruises and the aches.”
Sounded like a plan to her. “Come with me?”
He smiled. The smile didn’t lighten his eyes. “You get the water going and I’ll be right behind you.”
She turned away from him and headed for the hallway, but she hesitated and had to glance back. Casey found him staring after her with a hard, hooded gaze. She faltered. “Josh?”
“I will do anything to keep you safe.” His eyes glittered. “I hope you know that.”
She did. Once, a man had tried to destroy her by taking away all that she held dear. Josh was the opposite of Benjamin. She saw that so clearly. He was a protector. Fierce and dangerous, yes, but at his heart, he was a man who would fight desperately for the victims.
He’d fight desperately for her.
Did he know...she’d fight just as desperately for him?
KURT ANDERSON STARED at the prison. His old man was in there, locked away behind the heavy walls and secured behind the bars. He wanted his father to rot. To never get out. To never be free.
It was exactly what the guy deserved.
Kurt lifted the beer to his mouth, but stopped, catching himself. Sarah had told him not to drink again. She said that when he drank, he didn’t think clearly. He made mistakes. He wasn’t supposed to make mistakes anymore.
Why am I even out here? He should be at home, but...at his house, the reporters kept showing up. He’d told them to stay off his property, but they were still there.
Only this time...they were asking him different questions. Asking him if he was the killer.
He wasn’t. He’d never be like his father.
He shifted his car into Park. He needed to get out of there before some of the guards came toward him. They’d ask questions. Hell, they might even call Sheriff Black. The last thing he wanted was to deal with that guy again. Did Hayden think he didn’t see the hate in his eyes? Every time that Hayden looked at him, Kurt knew it was there. Hayden blamed him for what had happened to Jillian West. Hayden had always been crazy for Jill, and Kurt’s dad had nearly destroyed her.
He blames me. Just as much as he blames my father.
What Hayden didn’t get—what no one in that town seemed to get—was that Kurt blamed himself, too. He should have stopped his father. He should have seen the truth, so long ago.
He backed out of the lot, sending gravel spitting up from his tires. He wasn’t going back home. He’d find some little motel and crash for the night. Maybe tomorrow, he’d listen to Sarah and start the therapy that she kept trying to shove down his throat. It was just that he’d thought that sharing crap wasn’t for him.
But I can’t keep going on this way. Hayden actually thought I might be a killer.
He wouldn’t be. He couldn’t be.
His phone rang, startling him. It was his personal line. He’d only given that number out to a few people.
He braked on the side of the road and, fumbling, he pulled out his phone. He stared at the number and name on his screen, confused. Casey Quinn. Right. He’d given her his number after their last meeting. When he’d thought she might actually tell his side of things.
Before she’d been taken.
Why in the hell was she calling him?
Curious, he swiped his thumb over the screen. “This is Kurt.”
“I need your help...”