THE SUN WAS SETTING. AT THE WEST END OF THE island the band had already started to play, and bikini-clad women and men in swim trunks were dancing in front of a makeshift stage.
A string of lights had been draped over the stage and crisscrossed the small dance floor—a floor made of sand. The setting sun turned the sky a deep red behind that stage, and, soon enough, that sky would turn black and the stars would appear. A million stars, glittering overhead.
“Hey there!”
Her voice.
His prey.
Keeping his cap on and his sunglasses in place, he turned toward her.
“I was hoping to see you,” Alexa said, giving him a bright smile.
And he’d been planning to see her. Especially since she’d checked out so perfectly. Information these days was so readily available. People freely put their whole lives up on the Internet, always wanting attention.
Alexa Chambers was twenty-six, the only daughter of a wealthy Texas attorney. Two months ago poor Alexa had broken up with her fiancé.
As she’d posted online, it was, “Time for me to get back in the game!”
He did love to play games . . .
Alexa’s smile flickered with uncertainty. “Did you . . . I mean . . . are you here with someone?”
“I am now.” He caught her hand. Brought it to his lips. Kissed her knuckles.
She laughed softly, nervously, and the setting sun glinted off her bracelet. Had that been a gift from Daddy? Or the ex?
“I knew someone with a bracelet like that once,” he said.
Her laughter faded. “Let me guess. A—A former girlfriend?”
Alexa was so delightfully uncertain. Probably the work of her ex. With her good looks and family background, she should have been confident, in control.
But I’m the one with the control.
Soon, all Alexa would have . . . would be fear.
“Not anymore,” he said, smiling at her. “You still up for that boat ride?”
Alexa started to nod, but then she bit her lip. “Should I trust you?”
No, you should run screaming from me.
Staring into her eyes, he pulled out his wallet. Offered her the ID there. “Does that make you feel better?” The badge glinted.
Her smile flashed again.
“I’m off duty,” he told her, keeping his voice low and easy. “So how about we take that ride? The water is gorgeous when the sun is setting.”
And Alexa . . . eager Alexa . . . nodded.
THEY’D STAYED OUT on that beach, next to those graves, for hours. The FBI agents had grilled Eve, again and again. But she hadn’t been able to tell them any more.
Just about the rope . . .
The sand . . . crushing down on her . . .
She hadn’t been able to remember anything about her attacker.
“It will come to you.”
Her head turned. They were back in the golf course parking lot. Gabe was a few feet away, talking with Dean and the FBI agents. Victoria waited next to Eve, sympathy on her face. “It will,” Victoria said, her voice stronger with certainty. “You just need more time.”
Eve wished she had her certainty. Plenty of time had already passed since she’d woken in that hospital.
“Unless you . . . you don’t really want to remember.” Now Victoria looked back down at the beach. The sun had fallen low into the sky, and shadows were starting to stretch out onto the water. “I read the coroner’s reports on those women. Maybe you’re better off—”
“I’m not,” Eve said.
Victoria nodded. “I understand.”
Did she? Eve wasn’t so sure about that.
Gabe strode toward her. The FBI agents were heading back down the beach, back toward those graves.
Four graves. The remains found there had been linked to four women—Kate Ryan, Cassie Blankenship, Sharon Douzanis, and Lyla Strong.
“I need a drink,” Eve muttered.
Gabe stopped.
“Um, say again?” Victoria asked, her hands fluttering lightly by her sides.
“Don’t act like you don’t need one, too.” Eve rolled back her shoulders, trying futilely to push away the tension that had lodged there. “We’ve been staring at graves all afternoon and for most of the evening. We need to unwind.” Talk about an understatement. “Let’s get a drink.” She marched for the SUV. “I want music. I want dancing. And I want to think of something other than death.”
She jumped into the vehicle. Slammed the door behind her.
A few seconds later the driver-side door opened. Gabe climbed inside. “Are you okay?”
No. “Buy me a drink, Gabe,” she said, her hand rising to brush across the scar on her neck. “I don’t want to be the woman who can’t remember. I don’t even want to be the woman who crawled out of a sandy grave. For a little while I just want to drink and listen so some music, okay? I need it to wash away everything else.”
Dean opened the back right door. “The island is only fourteen miles long. If you’re looking for a good time, I figure we just need to roll down the windows and follow the music.”
Eve grabbed Gabe’s hand. “I need this.” How was a drink and some dancing too much to ask?
Gabe cranked the engine. The windows rolled down.
“You coming after us in your car?” Dean called to Victoria. She was still standing in the same spot.
She gave a quick nervous nod.
“Then let’s follow the music,” Gabe said as he backed up the SUV. “Let’s do anything that you want . . .”
He should be careful what he said. The guy had no idea what she really wanted right then.
Music and dancing—they weren’t the release she craved. They weren’t going to banish the cloying fear that was suffocating her.
Being in his arms? In his bed? That’s what I need. The wild pleasure that he could give to her. But right at that moment she’d take any oblivion she could get.
Drinks. Music. Dancing.
The SUV pulled away from that old country club. They headed back down the narrow road that snaked between the massive sand dunes. She caught a few glimpses of the old golf course as they headed out. A patch of green here, an abandoned cart there. The area just seemed to stretch before her.
Are more bodies hidden beneath the sand?
She was afraid that there were. Three victims had been marked as missing by the FBI. Three women who matched the profile of the Lady Killer’s victim. Jessica Montgomery was one of those women. The other two were Chantal Grant and Helen Humphrey.
Chantal had disappeared from Dauphin Island two years ago. At first the authorities had thought she was a drowning victim. The others had been listed as drowning victims, too—until their bodies were discovered.
When the remains of Kate, Cassie, Sharon, and Lyla were discovered, the FBI got to work creating victim profiles. From their profiles, they’d realized that Jessica, Chantal, and Helen could all be victims of the Lady Killer.
Eve didn’t think there was any “could be” about the situation. Her gaze slid over the sand. You’re out there, aren’t you?
She knew the Lady Killer had given Chantal and Helen their own sandy graves.
“YOUR BOAT IS incredible!” Alexa said as she jumped on board. She was smiling as she glanced around. “Now this is truly the way to travel in style.”
He grinned as he followed her, knowing exactly what role he had to play. “I take it you like traveling in style?”
She was already heading below deck. Talk about making things easy.
“Who doesn’t?” Her voice floated back to him. “This is incredible down here!”
Yes, the boat was rather impressive. “I have a confession,” he murmured as he entered the main cabin.
She was already helping herself to the champagne he’d stocked there.
“A confession?” She held up the champagne bottle. “Let me guess. You’re planning to seduce me.” Her voice had dipped to a seductive purr.
He shook his head. “It’s not my boat.”
“It—It’s not?” Her smile slipped and she started to lower the champagne bottle.
“I borrowed it.” The lies were so easy. “My boat was wrecked in the last storm. This belongs to a friend of mine.”
“Oh.” Her smile was back. Even bigger than before. “Some friend you’ve got.”
“Yes . . .” He reached down. His fingers curled around the neck of the champagne bottle, and his knuckles brushed against her hand. “And as far as seducing you goes . . .”
Her mouth was just inches from his. She stood onto her tiptoes, stretching eagerly before him.
“Yes . . . ?” Alexa breathed against his lips.
“I’m not going to seduce you.”
She blinked. “What?”
He pressed a kiss to her lips and said, “I’m going to kill you.”
It took her a few lost, desperate moments to understand his words, and by the time Alexa tried to pull back from him, it was too late. He’d snatched the champagne bottle from her grasp and slammed it to the side of her head.
She didn’t even have a chance to scream.
The champagne bottle thunked into her head. Blood spattered and down she went, tumbling right back on the bed.
He stood there a moment, watching her. Her chest was still rising. She was obviously alive. Good. Because if she’d been dead, what would have been the point?
He put the champagne bottle on the floor. Got some rope—he’d planned ahead, he always did—and he tied her up. Then he wrapped her up in the bedclothes and tossed Alexa’s ass in the closet.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I just need to check up on my island.” He stripped off his clothes. Pulled a fresh set from his bag, the same bag that had contained the rope. It wouldn’t do to walk around the island with blood on his clothes. You never knew when a bit of spatter would wreck you.
He’d killed to cover up a bit of spatter before. A spring breaker who’d been a bit too observant had needed a fast trip to hell. The kill had been brutal and quick, the same way he’d taken out Pauley McIntyre. Killing that way never gave him any pleasure.
I like to work with my girls.
When he was done changing, he double-checked the lock on the closet. He tapped lightly on the door. “Sweetheart, don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.”
No sound came from the closet.
“When I get back,” he told Alexa, “the real fun will begin.”
He’d take her far away, so far that no one else would hear her when she screamed and screamed and screamed.
This time you won’t get away.
He was whistling when he headed back to the main deck.
EVE DOWNED HER rum and Coke in a flash. Her hand tapped on the counter and her body swayed lightly with the pounding music.
Gabe made sure that he stayed close to her even as his gaze swept the gathering crowd at the beach. It was summer, peak season on the island, and even the discovery of a serial killer’s dumping grounds hadn’t slowed down the activity there.
“Yeah, baby, sure thing,” he heard the guy on the other side of Eve saying to a pretty brunette. “I can get you on the golf course. I can show you where all those graves are . . .”
The brunette put her hand on his chest. “Really, Johnny, you can do that?”
“Hell, yeah, and it’s freaky. They were all lined up, side by side. Fucking dead girl parade in the sand—”
The brunette’s eyes widened with avid fascination. “I want to see.”
Hell, so maybe the serial killer had attracted some people to the island. He’d seen crap like that before. Almost like serial killer groupies. He would never understand that shit.
“Another one,” Eve snapped to the bartender.
He immediately set her up with another rum and Coke. She drained it in an instant.
“I want to go now, Johnny,” the brunette said. “ ’Cause I heard you can hear the ghost of those women screaming right after sunset, and I want to hear—”
“Oh, yeah, baby,” Johnny said eagerly. “Let’s go. I’ll get you in that sand, I’ll show you—”
A tremble ran through Eve’s body.
“Johnny, stop being a fucking dick,” Gabe snapped.
Johnny whirled around and his gaze shot toward him. The guy was in his early twenties, with a weak-looking chin and bleary eyes that said he’d already had plenty of booze.
“That’s a crime scene, and you aren’t getting your ass near it.” The guy wanted to take his girl out there and screw her where women had died? Hell, no, that wasn’t going down.
Where Eve could have died? The guy wanted to have a fuckfest out there?
“It’s none of your business, asshole,” Johnny fired back, his cheeks flushing. “You need to step away!” Then he made a mistake. Well, another one. He shoved at Gabe’s chest.
Gabe shoved back, only he hit much harder, and Johnny wound up sailing over the bar.
“And there goes the night,” Dean muttered as he came to stand at Gabe’s side. Some of the folks around them were cheering. “Kid, word of advice?”
Johnny had heaved himself up and appeared to be prepping for another attack. He didn’t seem overly interested in Dean’s advice. Pity. The dumbass should listen to his elders.
“You don’t want to tangle with an ex-SEAL,” Dean told him, apparently deciding to give his advice whether Johnny wanted to hear it or not. “You’ll just wind up kissing the floor.”
Johnny snarled and leapt at Gabe.
And the kid wound up kissing the floor. Or, rather, the sand.
Johnny groaned as he tried to push himself off the sand and back to his feet.
Gabe crouched next to him. “Those women had families. Friends. They aren’t some sideshow for you to use just so you can get laid.” He grabbed Johnny’s head and tipped it back so the guy had to look into his eyes. “Try having some respect for the dead.”
“Gabe?” Eve’s voice was soft, worried. Shit, he hadn’t meant to scare her. But seeing violence up close like that would scare most people. He rose, keeping his hands loose at his sides. If Johnny boy came at him again, he would take him out.
“Hell . . .” That sharp voice wasn’t Eve’s. And it didn’t belong to the advice-giving Dean. “Am I gonna have to arrest you the first night you’re on my island?”
Gabe glanced over and saw Trey Wallace making his way through the crowd. Trey glared at him. Then the police chief focused his glare on Johnny—who was almost back on his feet.
Before Gabe could respond, Eve stepped in front of him. “That man—” She pointed to Johnny. “He attacked first. Gabe was just defending himself.”
Now she was defending him. Well, damn.
Dean coughed a bit. “Uh, yes, that’s exactly what happened.” He moved to Eve’s side. “The little prick was spouting off about sneaking up to the crime scene and showing his girl a good time there.” He jerked his thumb toward the girl. The brunette was even younger than Johnny, she looked barely eighteen, and her blue eyes had gone huge.
She gasped even as her face flamed. “I was not going there with him!”
Gabe rolled his eyes. What the hell-ever. And it was nice that Eve and Dean had his back, but he had this covered.
“That true, Johnny?” Trey asked as he craned his neck and glanced around Dean. “You throw the first punch again?”
Again? So the kid made a habit of bar fights. Big surprise.
Johnny just glared.
“I told you before,” Trey said, voice hard, “you’re gonna tangle with the wrong person one night.”
Johnny growled at him.
“Seriously? Stop that shit,” Trey fired, “or you’ll be sleeping in a cell tonight.” He looked at Johnny’s girl. “Drive him home, Gia. Now. Take him back to his uncle Clay’s place.”
Gia grabbed Johnny’s arm and dragged the guy away.
Trey glanced around. The crowd was still watching. He shook his head. “Show’s over, people! Get that music going. It’s supposed to be a party, right?”
The band started playing again. Couples danced. The drinks flowed.
The tension drained away from Eve’s shoulders. She stared back at Gabe, and she looked tired. Drained.
Trey eased onto one of the bar stools. His fingers reached for Eve’s glass. “Rum and Coke, huh? Always your drink of choice, especially when you’re stressed.”
The jealousy was there again, sliding its way into Gabe’s gut. The man seemed to know everything about Eve.
And that should have been a good thing. They needed to know her past.
But the intimacy between them pisses me off.
“Do you feel the stares, Jessica?” Trey asked as he picked up her empty glass and stared into it. “I mean, folks are acting like they aren’t looking this way, but they’re glancing at you from the corner of their eyes. You still feel the look, right?”
“Yes.”
Gabe could feel those stares, too.
“Some folks here recognize you. Sure, we’ve got a lot of out-of-towners, but . . . Sam over there—the guy playing the guitar? He knows you. That’s why he keeps missing the beat every few moments. ’Cause he thinks he’s seeing a ghost. And Clara? The redheaded waitress? She dropped a whole tray of drinks when she got a look at your face. ’Course, that was when your lover boy was beating up on the kid, so you probably missed that part, too.”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed on the cop.
“Even Johnny knows you, though he was probably too shit-faced to make the connection tonight. You and his uncle Clay Thompson were friends . . . we all were, back in the day.” His smile was sad. “There are lots of folks here who know you, Jessica.”
The cop was deliberately calling her Jessica, Gabe knew that. He wants her to be the woman she was before. Because that woman had been his?
“When you want to talk to them, they’ll be there. But until then, until you’re ready, I told them to stay back. Well, everybody but Johnny, I didn’t get a chance to tell his fool self anything about you. I’ll go see him and Clay later.” He looked over at her. “I know you only go for the rum and Coke when you’re at your limit. When you’re scared or when you’re about to break.”
“She’s not about to break,” Gabe said. Maybe you don’t know her that well.
Trey’s gaze was on hers. “Have you painted?”
Eve shook her hand. She flexed her fingers. “I don’t remember how to paint.”
“Try picking up the brush,” Trey said softly, the words sounding almost like a dare. “You might be surprised at what comes back to you.”
Eve looked down at the sand beneath her feet. “My fingers were broken. That was . . . that was one of the injuries I had.”
“I read the medical report on you.”
Her head snapped up.
Trey flashed a wry smile. Gabe hated that smile. “What? A ghost from my past walks right in front of me, and you think I won’t do everything in my power to find out what happened to her?” He stood, moving away from the bar stool and toward Eve. His hand reached out.
Gabe stiffened.
Trey’s fingers brushed over her neck. Over the scar there. “I know he cut you here.” His hand fell to her side. “And here.”
“Move the fucking hand,” Gabe warned, voice low and lethal.
“Here we go,” Dean muttered a second later.
The handsy-cop wisely took a step away from her. “You had a concussion, but the docs don’t think that is what caused the memory loss. You’re blocking it all because you’re scared. You don’t have to be scared with me.”
Eve stared into his eyes.
“I’ve always protected you,” Trey told her. Emotions were heavy in those words. “And I always will.”
“A word.” Gabe managed to push it out as he locked his hand around the cop’s shoulder. “Alone.”
Trey gave a nod, but he didn’t take his eyes off Eve. “I’ll be waiting. When you remember, I’m here.”
Gabe pulled the cop away from the crowd. As they left, he turned back and saw Victoria striding to join Eve and Dean. And . . . just as Trey had said, there were stares on Eve. Watchful gazes. People who looked as if they were seeing a ghost.
“You’re going to lose her,” Trey said as soon as he and Gabe were away from the crowd. “Go ahead and get used to that fact, Spencer.”
The hell he would. “My job is to keep her safe. To help Eve find out what happened to her.”
Trey laughed, but the sound held no humor. “We both know what happened. The killer took her, but she got away from him. Now she’s fighting her way back to the life she had before.”
Back to me.
Trey didn’t say those words, but they hung in the air between them.
“A killer is hunting on your island.” The cop needed to be tracking him. “Why the hell don’t you seem more concerned about catching the guy?”
Trey’s eyelids flickered. “You think I’m not trying?” He stood toe-to-toe with Gabe on the beach now as the waves crashed near them. “You think I’m not up nearly every night, trying to put the puzzle pieces together? Trying to figure out who it could be? The FBI gave me a profile—a white male, late twenties, early thirties, attractive, confident, able to move in wealthy circles . . . do you know how many men fit that profile? Every day, people come in and out of this place. And I’m watching them all. I’m trying to watch them every moment.” His breath heaved out. “So don’t tell me that I’m not doing my job. I’m doing the best I can. I have four full-time officers who work for me. Just four. We are doing everything we can to keep this island safe.”
“And I’m trying to keep her safe.” The whole island wasn’t his priority. Eve was.
“Are you? Or are you just interested in keeping her?” Trey tossed back. “I get it, hell, if anyone can understand, it’s me. Once you have Jessica, you—”
“Stop.”
Trey lifted a brow. “I’m not some drunk twenty-one-year-old kid that you can toss over a bar.”
“Don’t talk about Eve.”
“Jessica. Her name is Jessica. Eve doesn’t exist!”
She was standing not far away, watching them with a nervous stare. “She does to me,” Gabe said.
Trey didn’t reply to that.
The cop turned, and a redhead nearly slammed into him. “Officer?” She grabbed for his arms. “I can’t find my friend . . . she—she was supposed to be here.”
Trey focused on the woman. “Have you tried calling your friend, ma’am?” His voice was calm, courteous, but the cop’s body was still tense.
Gabe took a few steps back toward Eve.
“Alexa isn’t answering. She’s not at the condo . . . she’s not here. I—I’m worried about her.”
Gabe stopped short, next to the redhead. “What does your friend look like?” The question came because of the sudden knot in his gut.
The woman gave a nervous laugh and she pointed toward Eve. “A lot like her. I—I thought that was Alexa when I first got here, but it’s not.” She grabbed onto Trey’s arm. Her blue eyes were filled with worry. “This isn’t like her. We’ve been friends for years. She wouldn’t just leave me. Alexa doesn’t ditch her friends without a reason.”
“Maybe she met someone,” Trey said, but there was a new, harder intensity in his voice.
Maybe she met the wrong someone.
The redhead bit her lip. “There . . . there was a guy she was talking with earlier . . . when we were outside of the condo . . .”
“Just which condo are you staying at?” Gabe asked, the suspicion he felt getting stronger.
The redhead glanced at him, her hands fluttering nervously in the air. “Are you a cop, too?”
“Something like that,” Trey muttered.
“We’re at the Dauphin View.” She gave a weak smile. “We’re on the fifth floor, with a real killer view of the water.”
That was Eve’s condo tower, the Dauphin View. “Tell me about the man your friend met.”
“I—I didn’t see much of him.” She glanced between Gabe and Trey. “He was big, muscled, like you two. He had on a ball cap and sunglasses. He turned away before I could say hello.”
“You saw him talking to your friend Alexa, at that condo tower?” Trey pressed.
“Yes . . . earlier today.” She shook her head. “But Alexa wouldn’t just leave with the guy. I mean—she broke up with her boyfriend about two months ago, but she is so still stuck on Mark. There is no way she would hook up with a stranger and not at least text me so I wouldn’t worry about her.”
Trey looked at Gabe. The cop’s gaze was deadly serious. Gabe nodded, understanding exactly what the guy feared. “We’ll help you find her,” he promised the woman.
After all, that was exactly what he did.
SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Eve kept her eyes on Gabe as he and Trey closed in around a pretty redhead. The woman was talking quickly, and nervously waving her hands in the air.
“What’s going on over there?” Victoria asked as she peered toward Gabe.
Eve shook her head. “I don’t know.” But she was worried. Especially when Trey reached for his radio.
Wait, was the redhead crying?
Gabe glanced over at her. His face was hard, tight, and then he stalked quickly toward her and Victoria.
“Is she all right?” Eve asked, craning to see the redhead.
Instead of answering her, Gabe said to Victoria, “I want you to take Eve back to the condo. Stay with her until I get there.”
He was sending her away? “What’s happening?”
His jaw locked. “It could be nothing, could be just a woman who decided to hook up with a new lover and ditch her friend—”
She grabbed his arm and her fingers curled around his wrist. “What’s happening?”
“A blond woman named Alexa Chambers is missing. She was supposed to meet her friend here, but Sydney is worried because she can’t find her anywhere. Alexa isn’t answering her texts or her calls and—”
“Do you think he has her?” Eve asked, breaking through his words.
Gabe’s head inclined toward her. “It’s far too soon to say anything like that. Trey and I . . . we’re just going to see if we can find this woman’s missing friend.”
But he wanted her away from the scene, that much was obvious to Eve. Because he was afraid the Lady Killer was hunting? “If it’s him, why would he go after someone else?” And not me?
The faint lines near his eyes deepened. “We’re just looking for Alexa. That’s all right now. With the island’s history, Trey doesn’t want to take any chances, and neither do I.”
Victoria hopped off her bar stool. “I’m not much for the party scene anyway. Come on, Eve, let’s get out of here.”
Dean was already heading toward Trey and the redhead. “I want to help,” Eve said. She wasn’t as eager to leave as Victoria seemed to be.
Gabe shook his head. “Not until we know more—”
“But—”
His hands closed around her shoulders and he lowered his head. His lips brushed across the shell of her ear when he said, “Maybe Alexa is just making out with some new lover someplace, or maybe . . . maybe something else has happened. I need you to stay safe until we find out more. I can’t risk you.”
Yet it was her life to risk, and she couldn’t stand the thought of another woman out there, suffering.
Being buried alive in the sand.
“He could even be trying to lure you out.” Gabe’s lips feathered over her ear once more, and Eve shivered. “I need you to be safe. Go back with Victoria. Stay at the condo until I get there.”
Fine. She nodded. Mostly because . . .
I could walk right up to the killer and not even know him. So just how much help could she really be in the hunt?
Gabe slid away from her.
Then he turned and headed back toward the redhead—Sydney. Eve glanced at Victoria. The other woman was watching her with wide eyes.
“Are you okay?” Victoria asked her with a nervous hitch in her voice.
No, she wasn’t, but that was nothing new. She hadn’t been okay in a very long time.
“I hope they find her,” Eve said. Because that was all there was to say.
I hope the Lady Killer doesn’t have a new victim.
ALEXA’S LITTLE FRIEND was screwing things up for him. Spencer and his agent were walking around the West End of the island, asking after Alexa, if anyone had seen her. And of course that little redheaded bitch had a picture of Alexa on her phone, so everyone could get a fast and up-close view of her.
Gabe was asking if anyone remembered seeing her, if she’d been talking to anyone . . .
Yes, she was talking to me.
He backed into the shadows. He wanted to get back to Alexa. Wanted to rush and take that boat out and vanish with her. But he had to be careful.
If he drew the wrong attention, things could go badly for him. He had to play the game just right.
It was a good thing that he’d been playing this game for so long.
For over ten years . . .
And they haven’t caught me yet.
They never would.
AS SOON AS Victoria and Eve pulled into the parking lot at the Dauphin View, Eve saw the man waiting there for her. He was standing in front of a big beast of a motorcycle, his arms crossed over his chest. Their headlights hit him, revealing Wade Monroe’s tense face. He had his helmet perched on the back of the bike, and, with those stark lights hitting him, the guy looked more than just dangerous.
He looked deadly.
“I guess Gabe sent in reinforcements,” Victoria said as she parked the Jeep. “Figured Wade would show up sooner or later.”
Eve opened her door. As Wade headed toward her, she saw the weapon at his side. A gun. For an instant, fear had her heart racing.
Wade must have seen the fear on her face. He shook his head. “Easy. Gabe just wanted me to keep guard until he got here.”
Now she had two guards.
“You should be out there, helping to find that woman,” Eve said. The missing woman—she was the one who mattered right then.
But Wade shook his head. “Sarah’s joining the team out there. They’ve got things covered.”
He sounded confident. Good for him—she wasn’t confident. She kept picturing a woman being swallowed alive by sand.
Only the woman I picture is me.
“Let’s go inside.” Wade cast a quick glance around the area. “I don’t like staying out in the open like this.”
The night air wasn’t cold, but Eve still shivered as they made their way inside and up to the seventh floor. As soon as she entered the condo, she saw the paint supplies that Trey had brought to her. Gabe had set them up near the balcony. Her hand flexed, almost as if by instinct when she saw the brushes.
Eve walked toward the supplies then stopped, staring at the blank canvas.
“You okay?” Victoria asked her. The woman had crept up behind her.
Wade was securing the door. Checking in the closets. Eve was pretty sure she even saw the guy peak under the bed. Overkill.
Or was it?
“I don’t like being helpless.” She hated the thought that another woman could be out there, hurting, while she was safe in here.
Pauley had already been hurt by this sadistic bastard, Eve was sure of it. She didn’t want anyone else to suffer.
I’m sorry, Pauley. His death would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Wade opened the balcony doors—the doors that led out from her bedroom, not the den, and he stepped outside.
“Whether we like it or not, we’re all helpless sometime.” Victoria’s voice was low, sad.
Eve glanced over at her.
Victoria smiled, but the smile appeared forced. “Everything will be fine.”
“Stop,” Eve told her. Wade was outside. He couldn’t hear them. “You don’t have to . . . to pretend with me.” And it was very clear to Eve that Victoria was pretending. Giving a fake smile, trying to act as if they were totally safe.
They weren’t.
Victoria’s smile slipped as Eve turned back to her.
“Why did you join LOST?”
Victoria’s stare darted toward the balcony. Toward Wade? “Gabe made me an offer that I couldn’t resist.”
“Money?”
Victoria shook her head. “That’s not why I do it. That’s not why any of us do it. I mean, Gabe’s got money to burn, but that came from his family. We charge our clients as little as possible for our services.”
Gabe hadn’t even charged her. He’d just . . . helped her.
The balcony doors squeaked open as Wade returned.
“We’ve all lost someone,” Victoria told her softly. “It’s not like I woke up when I was six and thought, ‘Hey, studying the bones of the dead would be fun.’ ”
“No, I didn’t think you did.”
Wade was in the room with them now, but he was a silent, watchful shadow.
“It took them a year to identify my mother’s body,” Victoria said. There was no smile on her face. And behind the lenses of her glasses, her eyes just reflected her sadness. “No family should ever have to wait that long.” She swallowed. “The not knowing . . . it can be the worst part, right?”
“Right.” It sure as hell was for her.
Victoria blanched. “Oh, jeez, I’m an idiot, that’s not what I meant to say—”
Eve hugged her. Just pulled the other woman close and gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
Then she stepped back, a little shocked by her own display. It was just that—Victoria had seemed to need someone.
And I wanted to help someone.
Victoria blinked. Her lips pressed together, as if she were trying to hide their tremble. “Thank you. And I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry for everything that happened to you.”
Eve studied her a moment longer. “Did you find the person who killed your mother?”
Victoria’s shoulders stiffened. “He was pretty easy to find. I . . . always knew where my father was.”
Wade swore, and there was surprise in that vicious curse. “Viki, you never said—”
She held up her hand, warding him off. “He’s dead now, so he can’t hurt anyone.”
But Eve could see that she was still hurting.
“I think I’ll check in with Gabe,” Victoria mumbled as she turned away. “See if he’s found the missing woman or got any new leads for me to follow.”
Eve watched her flee. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“You didn’t.” Wade’s voice was flat. “But you did get her to open up more than I ever have.”
Eve glanced at him. Victoria had said, We’ve all lost someone. As she stared at Wade—
He shook his head. “Not happening, blondie. One soul-baring is all you’ll get tonight.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Wait, she had. Eve exhaled on a long sigh. “I think I’ll get some air.”
She headed outside. Put her hands up on the railing that surrounded the balcony and stared out at the darkness.
We’ve all lost someone.
Yes, Victoria was right about that.
I want to find the woman I was. The woman who is lost.
The moon’s light hit the water, and Eve saw a boat racing away into the darkness.