CHAPTER FIVE
DAWN’S HOME WAS on the second floor of a historic building in the French Quarter. Years ago, the house had been converted into two condo units. Dawn had jumped at the chance to get the upper condo. She loved the view of the city that she had from her balcony. Loved watching the tourists on her street. Loved listening to jazz music drift on the breeze.
And the second floor should have been safer. I picked it because it was harder to access. And this updated building had top-notch security.
She should have been safe.
Only she didn’t feel that way.
“As you can see,” Dawn murmured as she gestured to the security control panel near her door, “I always set my alarm. It’s never gone off, never warned me that any intruder was inside...”
Tucker had paced toward her den. He stood there, glancing around the space curiously.
Tucker is here. She swallowed and would not let her emotions push her to say something she wouldn’t be able to take back. He was there to help her. Nothing more, nothing less.
“The alarm didn’t go off, but you think someone has been here.”
She nodded. “I do.” She walked toward the window. “It’s small things that I notice. Things that other people might brush away.” She pointed toward her bedroom. The door was open, and from her vantage point she could see the pictures that hung on her wall—a dark blue wall. She’d painted it blue because the color was supposed to soothe, to help her relax.
Only I haven’t been relaxing at all lately.
“My pictures... One day, I noticed that two of them were moved. Just...switched in position.” A mocking laugh came from her. “Try telling the cops that someone came in and moved your pictures for you. This is New Orleans. We had the biggest homicide rate in the US just a few years ago... The cops are too busy to worry about swapped pictures.”
He stalked into her bedroom and studied the photos hanging on the wall. Dawn followed him, her steps slower. She’d taken both photos. Photography was her hobby. Another thing that was supposed to soothe her. When she’d been in therapy, her psychiatrist had been big on soothing.
He’d actually been right about the photography, though. She liked taking her pictures. When she looked through the lens of her camera, she got lost in the moment. She forgot her past and only focused on the image she was trying to capture. She focused only on the moment. The present.
The present mattered. The past didn’t. And the future? Why plan for something that could go so terribly dark?
Her breath eased out as she looked at the framed images. In one of the photos, she’d captured the sunset over the Mississippi. In another, she showed the imposing figure of the St. Louis Cathedral at nighttime.
“You and Detective Deveraux are friends. Surely he would have listened to you if you’d taken your fears to him.”
It was because they were friends that she hadn’t gone to him. He looked at her with respect, treated her as a colleague. She hadn’t wanted him to start doubting her. And did I doubt myself? Maybe, at first, when I glanced at the photos, for a moment, even I wasn’t sure... “I need more proof.” She still needed it. She’d worked as a PI long enough to know that she didn’t have enough evidence for the cops. So she’d tried to get evidence. Only it hadn’t worked.
“Anything else happen?”
“I woke up one morning, and I could...smell him.” Yes, even as she said it, Dawn knew her words sounded crazy. This is why I didn’t go to Anthony. “That aftershave that Jason used to soak himself with...I smelled it. I woke up and it was all over the place.” She pointed to her bed. “It was strongest right there, right next to me.”
Her bed, a brass four-poster that she’d bought from an antiques store just down the street, sat in the middle of the room. A lounging chair that she used for reading was to the right of it, and a heavy cherry dresser leaned against the far wall. “Sometimes, you can think your mind is playing tricks on you. A familiar scent... Maybe you’re just imagining it.” Her fingers skimmed over the pillow on her bed. “But the scent was so strong. It was like he’d been standing right next to my bed, watching me. Like he was here with me.” While I slept. She breathed out, nice and slowly, then turned back to face Tucker. “After that, I upgraded my security system again and...I don’t think anyone has been back inside.”
He was watching her with that too-bright blue stare. Goose bumps rose on her skin.
Why does he have to look so much like Jason? Her breath came faster, nearly shaking her chest. Before I’m done, you’ll grow to like the pain. Jason’s voice. Always in her head. Always, damn it.
Tucker moved toward her. “Dawn?”
She shook her head. She needed to get the rest of the story out, fast. “There have been a few other times, when I was out in the city that I thought someone was following me.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m pretty good at spotting a tail.” Mostly because she tailed others and she’d learned all the tricks of the trade. “But I could never spot him.”
“Yet you’re sure someone was following you?”
She faced him fully. “You know when you’re being hunted.”
His gaze drifted to her bed. If anything, his expression hardened more. “You should have contacted me.”
She blinked.
“I get that you thought you didn’t have enough to show the local cops. You didn’t want them thinking you were imagining things, didn’t want to put your business at risk, but...” He took a step toward her.
The back of her legs bumped into her bed. He’s the only one I back away from.
When he should have been the man she always ran to.
“But you should have contacted me. Some creep is in your home, in your bedroom.” His hands were fisted. “I would have been on the first fucking plane down here. Jason is dead. But there are people out there—people who get obsessed with serials. Women who fall in love with them. Men who want to be them. As the only surviving victim, shit, that makes you a target for people like that. It makes you—”
“Why do you think I moved to New Orleans?” She gave a sad shake of her head. “I needed to get away from all that. From the letters that came from strangers who told me what they’d like to do to me.” She’d given all of those twisted letters to the authorities in Baton Rouge. They’d assured her they would investigate, but no one had ever been arrested.
That was years ago.
“I had a normal life here,” she continued determinedly. “People had forgotten. I had a business. I had clients who trusted me.” A job that made her feel as if she were making a difference. And not just being a victim. “But someone started trying to unravel that life.”
He watched her with a hard gaze. “You think it’s the same man who killed our Jane Doe.”
“I think...” She stopped, then tried again. “I think I want to be a part of your investigation because someone has been screwing around with me.” She wanted to believe that Jason Frost was dead. Oh, God, she wanted that to be true. But his body had never been found and fear had haunted her. The fear was a companion that had dodged her steps for years.
And...
She was lying to Tucker. Well, a little. Only a little lie. In those first few months after her attack, she had imagined that Jason was after her. Everywhere she’d turned, she’d seen him. She’d thought for sure he was tailing her. She’d been so certain that she’d hired a PI.
Timothy Roth had been in his late fifties, a tough, grizzled, no-nonsense PI. He’d taken her money, he’d tailed her and he’d looked for someone who might be stalking her...
Jason.
And after six weeks, he’d given her the money back. No one had been following her back then. He’d found zero evidence.
The PTSD had gotten to her.
She’d seen a shrink.
She’d gotten better.
But I can’t have that dark time brought up again. I can’t have people saying that I was just imagining everything again. And that was the real reason she’d held off on contacting the police until she had solid proof. Not just scents in her home. Not just two photos that had been switched. Not just goose bumps on her arms when she was out late at night—the primitive, instinctive response to being hunted.
More evidence. Real evidence that couldn’t be denied.
Timothy had been the one to teach her that she needed more. Timothy had been the one to teach her how to be a PI. Only she wouldn’t tell Tucker any of that because she wanted him to keep believing her. There couldn’t be any room for doubt in his mind.
But Tucker had just turned and headed away from the bed. She hurried after him. “Tucker?” Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him again.
He opened the French doors that led to her balcony and stepped outside. She hurriedly followed him, and the heat of a June New Orleans day sank on her like a hot, heavy blanket.
Since she’d grown up in Baton Rouge, Dawn was used to the South and the heat it brought. But tourists...they usually melted down on the street below. They’d strip off their extra garments and sag as they walked down the worn sidewalks...just as they were doing right then.
“The only way to your condo is by taking the stairs that were inside the building, right?”
“Right.” The door to her building opened to a landing—her downstairs neighbor’s place branched to the left, and the stairs that led up to Dawn’s place were nestled to the right. But just to get into the building, you had to have the security code. It was supposed to be a safe place.
“Who lives below you?” His hands had curled around the wrought iron railing.
“A tattoo artist. Jinx Donahue is the best in New Orleans.” Dawn had even gotten inked by her. “I asked Jinx if she saw anyone, but she said she didn’t.”
“You and Jinx both know the security code to access the building.”
The security system was in place to keep the vagrants out of the building. Vagrants, curious tourists, ghost hunters—they’d all tried to get in at some point. She nodded.
“You’ve both probably given that code to friends...to lovers.”
“I don’t give the code to anyone.”
His blue stare slid to her face. “But Jinx does.”
“Yes.” She eased closer to him. He won’t bite. Why am I afraid? She’d been strong, she’d felt strong, for so long...until the watcher began to mess with her mind again. At first, he’d made her doubt herself. Is this happening? Am I just imagining things again? Seeing a ghost when the real killer is long gone? “But those people can only access the bottom floor. You saw that I had my own separate security system up here—”
“Getting into the building would be step one. Breaking into your place would be step two.” He rubbed his chin. “I want to talk with Jinx.”
Dawn checked her watch. “Her shift at the shop doesn’t usually start until noon. We can probably catch her downstairs.” She turned to go—
His hand curled around her wrist. “I hate that you’re still afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Her immediate denial.
But he smiled. His dimple flashed. And her heart rate sped up.
“I would never hurt you. I want you to know that.” He turned his body and...with his grip on her wrist, he pulled her closer. She could have broken away. She didn’t. “I killed to keep you safe before. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
It told her they were very dangerous when the two of them were together.
He was staring down at her. He was as tall and strong as she remembered. Actually, he seemed a little bigger. She’d had dozens of self-defense classes over the years. She’d gotten her black belt in Tae Kwon Do. She’d trained to fight with knives and guns. She’d worked damn hard to make herself strong. I won’t be helpless. Not ever again.
But when she looked into Tucker’s face...
Fear still snaked through her.
It’s not him that I fear. She wanted to banish that terror. To sever the tie to Jason Frost once and for all.
“If this killer is after you, there is no way I’d let him get close to you.”
It wasn’t as if he could protect her 24/7.
“We should go downstairs and talk to Jinx.” She was making an excuse to slip away from him. Being so close to Tucker made her feel nervous, anxious.
It was absolutely terrifying to want a man who looked so much like the twisted bastard who’d tortured her for hours. Her shrink had said that she should try working through her tangle of emotions. That she had to see the two men as separate and distinct.
Easy for you to say, buddy. You’ve never seen them side by side.
But it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just about the physical similarity.
Because of me, Tucker killed his own brother.
Their relationship had been doomed, no question. “A pity,” she whispered.
His brow furrowed.
“I still want you, after all this time.”
His lips parted. “What?”
Her eyes stung. She hadn’t cried in years—literally hadn’t let herself—but he was back and the bittersweet memories were filling her and she had to blink the moisture away. “I remember what it was like the last time we were together.” She’d lost it. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” The word was an angry growl. “Fucking, no. You never have to apologize to me for anything, do you understand?”
He didn’t understand. When you wanted and you feared the same man, you were screwed up.
His hand lifted and curled around her chin. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” And a long shudder worked the length of his frame. “I missed you, Dawn.”
She sucked in a sharp breath.
I should back away. I should put space between us. I should—
She rose onto her toes and—
She kissed him.
It wasn’t the kiss of friends. It was a kiss of desperation. A kiss because she was suddenly frantic to prove something to herself. To him. That I’ve changed. That she could still want. That she could let the fear go. That the past wasn’t going to control her life—or destroy her again.
He stiffened against her. She actually thought he was going to push her away and pain pierced through her. Her lips were against his. Her hands had fisted in his shirt when she’d pulled him toward her.
Please kiss me back. She needed this moment. She needed him.
And after a tense moment, he kissed her back. Not carefully. Not softly. But with a wild, ferocious hunger that she hadn’t expected. He took over the kiss. His desire was consuming. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and pulled her even closer.
For just a moment, all of the years between them vanished. It was like it had been so long ago. They’d meet at her dorm or at his house, they’d kiss and they would ignite. The rest of the world wouldn’t matter. It would just be the two of them and the wild pleasure they gave each other. Pleasure that was addictive. Pleasure that ripped her world apart. Pleasure that told her he had to be the one for her because surely she would never be that happy with anyone else...
His head lifted. His eyes were sharp with desire, his face tight with need. “What—” his voice was that rough, ragged growl she remembered so well, the growl that used to turn her on so easily “—are you trying to prove?”
She could taste him. Her nipples were tight. Her breath came in quick pants and she wanted his mouth on hers again.
“Dawn?” He stepped back, taking the heat of his body with him.
But then...it was New Orleans. There was plenty of heat to go around.
Her hand flew out and clamped around the balcony.
“What were you trying to prove? That I still want you?” He gave a ragged laugh. “Baby, I never stopped.”
She’d never stopped wanting him, either. Even when she’d been afraid.
“Be careful what you start,” Tucker warned her. “Be sure you can finish it.” Their gazes held. His desire was plain to see, and she wondered...what did he see when he looked at her?
He took a few nice, long breaths.
So did she.
She’d had lovers in the years since she and Tucker had parted. There had been one guy that she’d even been engaged to—for a very short period of time. All of two weeks. Then she’d realized she didn’t love him, that she was just going through the motions. Trying to be normal when normal was the last thing she’d felt.
She hadn’t loved Martin, but she’d wanted him. She’d wanted her other lovers, too. She knew what it was to desire someone.
But it still seemed as if she wanted Tucker more than she’d ever wanted any of the others. The desire she felt for him...it was so much stronger. Stronger. Hotter.
Darker.
He rolled back his shoulders. “Let’s talk to the downstairs neighbor.”
Right. That had been their plan before she’d decided to start testing herself. And before she made any other moves that she might regret, she needed to get her thoughts together. Because I’m not sure I can finish what I’m starting. That had been the problem years before. She’d begin with desire when she touched Tucker, but then the dark, twisting fear had consumed her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she turned away from him.
But he caught her wrist in a lightning-fast move. “I told you already...” Again, his voice was that rough growl that sent a shiver over her. Not a shiver of fear. “You never have to apologize to me.”
She looked back, staring into his eyes. At that moment, she just couldn’t speak. Seven years. God, that was such a long time. She hadn’t expected her emotions to ignite this way. That fierce tangle she felt inside when she was near him...it should have been gone.
But...
It wasn’t. When it came to Tucker, her feelings were as strong and twisted as ever.
Without another word, Dawn led the way out of her condo, making sure to lock the door and reset her security system. If anyone came through that door, the alarm would sound instantly. That door, her balcony doors and even her windows, just to be safe. The den area was also outfitted with a motion sensor.
She believed in being safe.
They went silently downstairs and she paused in front of Jinx’s place. It was edging close to twelve already, but...
Dawn knocked. And she knocked again. She listened intently, but there were no sounds from inside Jinx’s place.
“Tell me the name of her tattoo shop,” Tucker said as he stood to her right. “I have several stops to make today, and I’ll add that to my list.”
“It’s Voodoo Tats, just off Bourbon Street.” She knew his “stops” had to do with the case and she sure wished she could go with him on the investigation. “Will you keep me informed, when you find out something new about Jane Doe?”
He nodded. “I will.” He turned to leave the building, but stopped.
She tilted her head as she studied him. “Tucker?”
“You tasted as good as I remembered.”
So had he. Dawn swallowed.
“But keep in mind what I said. Don’t start what you can’t finish.” He glanced back at her. “You’ve changed over the years, and so have I.”
Once more, his words sounded like a warning. Probably because that was exactly what they were.
“If something happens again, if anything goes down at your place that scares you, call me.”
Easy to say, but... “I don’t have your number.”
His gaze sharpened. Then he pulled out his phone.
She blurted her number quickly, and when he tensed, she wondered if he’d already known it. Tricky FBI guy, he probably did.
A moment later, her phone vibrated.
He stared at Dawn as her phone rang. “Now you’ve got my number. If you need me, you call me.”
Right. She’d be doing that.
He walked away, heading out into the busy street. She stood there a moment and just watched him. He had changed. He’d spent the last seven years hunting killers with the FBI. Had he been forced to take another life? What would it have been like to always be targeting monsters? To make hunting them your life? What would that do to a person?
She heard a soft creak from inside Jinx’s apartment. Frowning, she stepped closer to her friend’s door. “Jinx?” She knocked on the door again. “You in there?”
Silence.
The place had been updated, but it was still a building that had been erected in the 1800s. Dawn heard creaks and bumps all the time as the place continued to settle. At first, those little noises had unsettled her, and then she’d slowly gotten used to them.
But...
She still had her phone in her hand. She swiped her finger across the screen and dialed Jinx. Even as she dialed, she put her head closer to the door. Dawn thought she might hear the phone ringing from inside her friend’s apartment...
But she didn’t.
Her call went to Jinx’s voice mail. “This is Jinx. You know the drill.”
“Uh, yeah, hi, Jinx,” she said quickly as she straightened away from the door. What am I doing? Her friend wasn’t in there, in some kind of desperate peril. She needed to stop letting the case wreck her mind. “Call me when you get this, okay? I need to ask you some questions. And...a friend of mine, Tucker, will probably be coming to your shop today. He looks like a Fed.” She turned away from Jinx’s place and made her way up the stairs. “Mostly because he is a Fed, but he’s trying to help me out, so be nice to him, okay? I know you and cops don’t exactly get along well...” Understatement. “But he’s not a cop.” The FBI was different. “And...like I said...he’s my friend.”
Or he had been. Once, he’d been nearly the only friend she had.
It was a shame their lives had changed so much.
Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish. She hurried up the stairs. Tucker might not be allowing her to participate in the FBI’s investigation, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do some digging on her own. The days of her just sitting on the sidelines of life, too afraid to make a move, were long gone.
* * *
HE WAITED UNTIL Tucker left and...like clockwork, Dawn hurried out of her building just minutes after him. She jumped in her car and rushed off down the street.
When he saw her vehicle turn the corner, he headed toward her building. He had flowers in his hand. Fresh flowers that he’d made special arrangements to get. He hoped Dawn enjoyed them.
He keyed in the code that would allow him access to the ground floor. He’d learned that code long ago.
Jinx was helpful that way.
He stepped inside, immediately enjoying the cooler air. Then he turned to the left. He pulled the key out of his pocket and he let himself inside Jinx’s place.
“Oh, honey,” he called out, smiling, “I’m home.”
There was no response. But then, he hadn’t expected one. He put the flowers down on the kitchen table and then he pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket. After all, he didn’t want to leave any prints behind. That would just be sloppy.
He walked toward the pantry. He could hear the low hum as soon as he opened the door.
Jinx had been such a helpful woman. She had a refrigerator in her kitchen, but...she did enjoy her frozen meats and ice creams. So she’d sprung for a big, 10.6 cubic foot freezer that she’d had delivered a few months back.
His hand slid over the surface of that freezer and he just had to lift the lid up for a moment.
He smiled at what he saw inside. “Perfect.”
He shut the freezer and eased out of the pantry. After retrieving the bouquet from the table, he headed toward Jinx’s bedroom. There was a naughty secret in there. One she’d made the mistake of telling him about. It had always been so easy to get Jinx to talk. The more alcohol she had, the chattier she became. And the harder it was for her to remember just what she’d said the next day. What she’d said and what she’d done. Because of her family trouble, Jinx had been drinking a lot more lately. He’d helped with that.
He went into her closet, and there he found the little passageway that waited. Once upon a time, it had been a dumbwaiter that connected to the upper floor. Dawn didn’t realize the passage was there. Jinx had only found it by accident. A handy thing...
He slid inside, making sure to bring his flowers with him. The actual elevator part of the dumbwaiter had been removed long ago. All that remained now was an empty tunnel that connected the first and second floors. He’d left a rope in there before, so it was an easy enough matter to climb up. Hell, even without the rope, it was a pretty easy climb. But he’d wanted to be fast, and that rope made maneuvering so much easier.
And soon he was just where he wanted to be. In Dawn’s home.
All that security, love. You think you’re so safe with all the alarms, but that system never lets you know when I’m inside. Because he didn’t have to break in through the front door or sneak in from the balcony. He just walked right out of her closet and into her bedroom. He never made the mistake of going into her den. After all, tricky Dawn had a motion sensor in there.
He took the flowers toward her bed. He put them on her pillow.
She’d find them when she came back that night. The flowers that he’d selected especially for her. They’d be in her safest place.
They’d terrify her.
Her terror was exactly what he wanted.