THE KID WAS SHOOTING AT TREY. GABE SAW THE police chief duck down behind a garbage can even as the guy called out a warning for Johnny to “Drop your weapon!”
Gunfire was Johnny’s response.
There was another Dauphin Island officer there, a guy who was skulking low near the side of the fishing house on the right. The fishing houses were a narrow group of buildings, barely ten feet wide each, all brightly painted in island colors. Boats surrounded them.
Were you trying to get on another boat? Trying to get away?
But Johnny had been spotted before he could make that escape.
“You won’t take me in!” Johnny screamed.
Yes, they would. Gabe kept close to the side of those fishing houses. He made sure not to present his body as a target. Trey and his officer had Johnny distracted up front. Now he just needed to work his way around the back and catch the guy off-guard.
But another shot rang out, and Gabe heard a sharp cry.
“Bastard hit me!” That wasn’t Trey. The other officer had been hit.
And as Gabe watched, Trey broke from his cover and ran toward the fishing house that Johnny was inside. Trey had his gun out. Johnny was coming outside, not firing any longer. But walking straight out like a prisoner to his execution.
And Trey was lifting his gun, getting ready to shoot.
What the hell? What had happened to Trey’s own words not to shoot the guy?
Trey’s weapon was up. Gabe ran ahead and he leapt across the small porch of the house, grabbing for Johnny. He expected to hear the crack of gunfire.
But he didn’t.
His body slammed into Johnny’s, and when they hit the concrete, Johnny landed under Gabe. The idiot tried to fight him, so Gabe just grabbed the man’s head and shoved it down. Johnny groaned.
Gabe looked over at Trey, thinking the man must have come to his senses before he’d fired, but—
Eve was there. Her hands were still wrapped around Trey’s right arm—and the gun was still gripped in Trey’s right hand.
She stopped him from firing.
Pierce rushed up behind her.
“I’ll . . . never talk . . .” Johnny vowed.
“Yeah, you fucking will,” Gabe promised him as he yanked the guy to his feet. The other officer rushed from the shadows, and blood gushed from the wound on his shoulder.
Johnny’s gun had fallen when Gabe hit him. Gabe bent and grabbed that weapon, but he made sure to keep his hold on Johnny.
“This isn’t . . . over, bastard!” Johnny told him.
“It is for you.” That response came from Trey. He’d closed in on his prey. He yanked out his cuffs. Slapped the metal around Johnny’s wrist. “After trying to kill two cops in front of witnesses, you can damn well bet that things are definitely over for you.” He shook his head. “Your uncle is going to fucking not believe this shit!”
The cop started reading the guy his rights. Johnny was just laughing.
And then—
Johnny’s laughter stopped. “Dead girl.”
Gabe stiffened. Johnny was staring straight at Eve. Smiling at her.
“I remember you, dead girl. Do you remember me?”
Trey pulled the guy away from Eve.
Her expression had flickered, just a bit, when Johnny taunted her.
Dead girl.
And Gabe realized that Eve did remember the younger man.
“We need to go, Jessica.” Pierce wrapped his hand around Eve’s arm. “We need to get out of here now.”
Trey froze, Johnny right at his side. “That’s not happening.” He glared at Pierce. “I want her at the police station. I want you both there. No one confesses to murder and walks away.” His voice lowered as he stared at Eve. “Not even you, sweetheart.”
And in the distance, thunder rumbled once more.
“DON’T SAY ANYTHING, Jessica. Do you understand? Not a word.”
Gabe watched as Pierce paced in front of Eve—Jessica. Dammit, he had to get used to calling her that name soon.
They were in a small conference room at the PD. Pierce had tried to throw Gabe’s ass out, but Jessica had refused. She’d said that she wanted him there with her. And with her was exactly the place he wanted to be.
“So . . .” Gabe leaned his shoulders against the wall. “Your memory is back.”
She was seated at the small table in a slightly wobbly chair. He noticed that every few moments she would rock to the side in that chair. A movement prompted by fear?
“Not all of it.” She looked up from the table and her green gaze focused on him. “Not even close. Just bits and pieces. Flashes that are . . . terrifying.”
“Jessica.” Pierce’s face was so red that Gabe thought the man might literally explode. “Please, I’m begging you . . . stop.”
But she shook her head. “I don’t have secrets from Gabe. He’s been the one to help me, from the very beginning.”
Pierce reached for her hand. “You have secrets, you just didn’t know about them—”
She snatched her hand away from him. “Because you didn’t clue me in to them. You walked in Gabe’s office wearing your fancy suit, and you said you didn’t even know if I was your sister.” Anger hardened her delicate jaw. “You lied, Pierce. You knew then. You knew.”
Pierce’s shoulders hunched. “Yes.” Shame was in that confession.
Gabe shot away from the wall. “Then why the hell didn’t you say something?” The guy had just walked out that day, and left his sister behind. With no money, no help . . . nothing.
Pierce spun to face him. “Because if she didn’t have her memories, then she didn’t have her nightmares! I thought it might be better for her!”
What a freaking idiot. Gabe’s hands had fisted at his sides and he sure loved the idea of plunging his fist into Pierce’s pretty-boy face.
“Better?” Eve repeated. She was still in the chair, but now her hands had flattened on the tabletop. “To think that I was unwanted? That no one out there cared at all that I was alive? Or dead?”
Anguish seemed to twist Pierce’s face. “You don’t know what your past was like. Dammit, Jessica, I had to put you under suicide watch when you were just sixteen!”
Sixteen . . . the age she’d been when her parents died in that boating accident.
Sixteen . . .
Ten years ago.
“You took a bottle of pills. I—I barely found you in time. Your stomach was pumped, you were delirious, and you were just saying that you wanted to die. That’s when I had to have you hospitalized. You were under the suicide watch.”
Gabe’s heart stopped. His eyes were on Eve—fuck, to me, she will always be Eve. And he couldn’t look away.
She held herself so still. No more rocking in that unsteady chair. Her skin was too pale. Her hair had dried, so had her clothes, and she looked . . . lost.
“Did I kill someone?” Eve asked quietly.
Pierce’s gaze flew to Gabe. “You need to leave. I have to talk with my sister—”
Eve leapt to her feet. Her chair screeched as it flew back behind her. “Did I kill someone?” Her voice was a shout.
“No!” Pierce shouted back at her. Then his eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You tried, okay? You tried to kill the bastard, and he totally had it coming.”
Eve looked so fragile. Like she’d shatter at any moment. She won’t. She’s strong. “What bastard?” Gabe demanded.
Pierce glanced toward the door. “Is this place wired? Is Trey listening to us?”
He had no clue, and right then he didn’t care. “What bastard?”
But Pierce shook his head. “When we get out of here, Jessica, I’ll tell you everything. Just not a word now, okay? Trey won’t let his feelings for you hold him back. He’s a black and white guy, always has been. That’s why you left him at the end. You knew if he ever found out, he’d turn away from you. You said you couldn’t count on him. That’s what you told me.”
“I was laughing.” Eve stared down at her hands. “And there was blood on my hands. Why would I do that?”
“Because he deserved the pain you gave him.”
The guy just needed to stop with the bull and come right out and say what he meant.
Eve’s hands clenched into fists. “I don’t think I was the Lady Killer’s victim.”
Now that sure as hell surprised Gabe. He crossed to Eve, unable to stay away.
“I have these flashes . . .” She waved her fist in the air. “I can hear his voice, low, rasping, and he’s telling me that we’re playing a game together.”
The door opened then. Trey stood on the threshold, looking weary but determined. FBI Agent Avery Granger was behind him.
“We’ve got some information you all are going to want to hear,” Trey said as he marched into the room. He motioned toward the table. “Jessica, you’re gonna want to sit down.”
Considering she’d just jumped up from that table, Gabe wasn’t particularly surprised by the negative shake of her head.
“Right. Fine.” Trey was holding a manila envelope. He opened the envelope and a plastic bag spilled onto the table. A bag that contained a gleaming diamond tennis bracelet.
Gabe frowned at the evidence. “Is that one of the pieces recovered from the guy’s trophy box?”
“No.” Trey’s voice was clipped. “This piece was around the wrist of Alexa Chambers, only it didn’t belong to her.” His gaze was on Eve. “It belonged to you.”
She shook her head. But this time the shake was slow, uncertain.
“There’s an inscription inside, one that I’m pretty damn familiar with, since it says, ‘To J, with all my love . . . P.’ ”
Surprise flashed in her eyes.
“The bracelet was yours.” Pierce’s voice was wooden. “I bought it for you after . . . after our parents’ death.”
Eve didn’t speak.
Trey exhaled on a long sigh. “There’s blood in the diamonds. Maybe that blood is Alexa’s. Maybe it’s yours. Maybe it’s both—”
“Why would my bracelet be around her wrist?”
“Why indeed?” It was Agent Avery who asked the question. “Why do all the victims look like you? I thought the guy was just fixated on blondes, that you were unfortunate enough to fit his victim profile, but now I’m not so sure.”
There was another knock at the door.
Avery called out, “Come in.”
And the door opened to reveal Sarah.
“I figured it would be best if your psychiatrist joined us for this part,” Avery said. “Especially since she’s been working so hard to understand the killer for us all.”
Sarah looked . . . nervous. And she wasn’t meeting Gabe’s stare.
What the hell?
“Why would the killer put that bracelet on Alexa’s wrist?” Avery asked.
Pierce moved closer to Eve. “I don’t understand what’s happening here—”
“Oh, sorry,” Avery said, sounding anything but. “Let me clarify . . . we’re trying to catch a killer, and I’m using the best psychiatrist in the area to try and explain the psychopath’s motivations. Does that clear things up for you?”
Silence.
Sarah cleared her throat. “Victoria . . . she’s determined an age for the victim that we found in the fort.” Now she did look at Gabe. “She was only sixteen.”
Shit.
“And Victoria thinks that she was killed ten years ago.”
When Eve would have been sixteen, too.
“Tell me more . . .” Avery murmured, and Gabe realized that the FBI agent already knew this information. The guy was too certain, his gaze too assessing as it stayed on Eve.
What did they discover while I was out on that island?
“I’ve been doing an age chronology for the other victims that we’ve identified,” Sarah said. “Their ages vary slightly, and I think . . . I think he was increasing the age of his victim, as he aged.”
Gabe wasn’t sure he followed. “So he started killing sixteen-year-old girls . . .”
“When I think he was younger. And as he aged . . . and as the target of his—his affection aged . . .” Sarah seemed to stumble a bit as she used that word. “So did the ages of his victims.”
Gabe cut his eyes back to Eve.
The target of his affection.
“It’s unusual.” Sarah’s voice was mild, clinical. “Typically in cases like this, the serial has a type—a set age, a set hair color, a vision of the perfect victim that doesn’t change over time.”
Eve crept closer to Sarah. “But his vision changed.”
Sarah nodded. “Yes,” she said softly.
“Why?”
Sympathy flashed across Sarah’s face. “Because I think you changed.”
Eve froze.
“Avery told me about the bracelet on Alexa’s wrist . . . your bracelet. I suspect the killer placed that bracelet there to send a message.”
“What message?” It was Pierce who made this demand. “The man out there is crazy, he—”
“He wanted us to know—wanted you to know, Eve—that he’s always been killing you. Each woman, she’s you.” Sarah’s expression was grim. “He put that bracelet on Alexa because he wasn’t killing her, he was killing—”
“I get the picture.” Her voice was low and husky—far huskier than it normally was. Her gaze flashed to Gabe, and he was stunned to see the guilt in her stare. “But I don’t think you fully understand,” Eve said. “What if I’m not his victim, what if I’m—”
“Dammit, Jessica!” Pierce erupted, and he grabbed her arms. “Enough. Enough.”
“Yeah, that is fucking enough, buddy.” Gabe’s voice was low and lethal. Because the guy was holding her far too roughly, his fingers digging deep into Eve’s skin. “Get your hands off her. Now.”
Pierce’s hold eased, but he didn’t let her go.
“I don’t want you to throw away your life. You weren’t helping that freak out there,” Pierce said. “You weren’t.”
“Move your hands.” Gabe advanced with intent. Eve’s fear was killing him. “Or I will move them for you.”
And Trey was also leaning in close to Pierce. “If Jessica has a confession to make, I want to hear it.”
Pierce shook his head. His gaze never left Eve’s. “Please,” he whispered. “I’m trying to protect you.”
His hands slid from her shoulders. Straightening his spine, he glanced over at Trey. “Don’t you have a suspect in custody? Shouldn’t you be interrogating him?”
“I will be . . . right after I hear Jessica’s confession. After all, she did tell me that she killed someone.”
“She doesn’t remember what she did or didn’t do! My sister is troubled, always has been.”
Sarah frowned at that. Gabe and Sarah had done their best to pull up Jessica Montgomery’s medical records. They hadn’t found, any notation of her suicide attempt or her hospitalization.
“Why is she so troubled?” Sarah asked.
Pierce’s lips clamped together. “There are no more questions. No more answers. Leslie Van Knight is my attorney. Our attorney. All questions will go through her.”
Trey shouldered Pierce out of his way. “Is that really how you want to play things?” he asked Eve. “Hiding behind a lawyer? ’Cause I never would have thought that was your style.”
Gabe didn’t move. He was waiting to see how this scene played out.
“Maybe you don’t know my style,” she told Trey softly.
Anger slit his eyes. “Like you do? You can’t even remember your own damn name, your lover, your art—nothing. It’s all gone for you, and you’re screwing this asshole over here”—he jerked his thumb toward Gabe—“because you’d rather be with a stranger than someone who actually gives a shit about you.”
Enough. “The asshole can hear,” Gabe said, “and you need to watch your step, police chief.” It was the only warning he’d give the guy. “You aren’t going to talk to her like that.” Gabe stepped in front of Eve. He rubbed her shoulders, deliberately keeping his touch light and reassuring. “Your brother’s right. You’re done here. Anything else you need to say to the cop, it can go through your lawyer.” Then he caught her hand. Her fingers were shaking as he twined his fingers with hers. “It’s time to get the hell out of here.”
“She’s not leaving!” Trey shouted. Avery was in the background, silent, watchful. “I’m not letting her leave again, I’m not just going to let her—”
“She’s not under arrest.” Gabe’s voice was flat. Cop, back the fuck off. “You have nothing to hold her on. And as you just said yourself . . .” He turned to glare at Trey. “. . . she doesn’t have her memory, so Eve doesn’t know what she was saying before. No confession can be trusted from her.”
Gabe’s fingers squeezed hers. He wanted to reassure Eve. But he also didn’t want to say too much, not with Trey and Avery watching them too closely.
Then he led her to the door. The sooner he got her out of that place, the better he would feel. Pierce hurried to keep up with them, but he was still spouting off and telling Trey to stay away from the Montgomery family. Ordering Trey to do his job and to question Johnny Thompson.
Sarah watched Gabe and Eve, and he sure as hell wanted to know what she was thinking. Sarah inclined her head, and he knew they’d be having a private talk right away. Good. Because I don’t like it when I feel like my own team is working against me.
Or . . . against Eve.
Then they were out in the hallway. More cops were there. Dean and Victoria were milling around, too. He’d have to get the team together, away from the cops, and find out what they’d all discovered.
Gabe paused next to Dean. “Use your pull with the FBI,” he muttered, his voice low and only carrying to Eve and Dean. “Get into the interrogation with Johnny.” Because that would be going down soon. “I want to know exactly what that little prick has to say.”
Dean’s head moved in the slightest of nods.
Gabe glanced down at Eve. “It’s going to be all right.” He needed her to believe him.
Eve glanced down at her hand.
“You can trust me,” he told her.
“But can you trust me?” she asked him. The pain in her voice tore at his heart. “Because I’m not even sure I trust myself.”
“YOU CAN’T KEEP me locked up in here!” Johnny Thompson yelled as he yanked on his cuffs. Those bastards had chained him to the table. It was freaking bull. They couldn’t do this to him! “I know my rights!” he shouted toward the closed door. “I want a lawyer! I want a phone call! I want—”
The door opened. “I want you to calm the hell down.”
That wasn’t Trey standing in the doorway. It was some blond jerk in a dress shirt—some fool who looked like he’d never worked a day in his life, and he was shadowed by another guy—tall, dark hair, eyes that were freaking ice.
“Who the hell are you? Where’s Trey?”
The blond man pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “I’m FBI Agent Avery Granger. I’ll be the one questioning you.”
The FBI?
His gaze cut to the other guy. The silent one. “You FBI, too?”
“Dean Bannon is a . . . consultant on this case,” Avery said smoothly.
Well, big fucking deal. Johnny leaned forward. “I want the cuffs off.”
Avery shrugged. “I want answers. You help me, and maybe I’ll help you.”
He wasn’t helping the bastard at all.
“Were you at Sand Island today?” Avery asked him.
Johnny smiled even as his heart thundered in his chest. “Never heard of the place.”
Avery’s stare didn’t leave his face. “Did you take your uncle’s boat out there, and did you rig Gabe Spencer’s boat to explode?”
“Gabe Spencer,” he repeated, rubbing his nose. His broken nose. “That jerk needs to get his ass beat.”
Finally, the dark-haired guy spoke. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”
Johnny laughed. “Trey should . . . if he had balls. I mean, that Gabe guy comes rolling into town, and he’s obviously fucking Trey’s girl. Shit, if it were me—”
He broke off because he knew that he’d just made a mistake.
“If it were you, what?” Avery asked.
Screw it. He was already in too deep, but there hadn’t been a choice. “I’d teach the bastard a lesson.”
Dean cocked his head. “The kind of lesson where you make his boat explode?”
He didn’t answer.
Avery pushed a manila file across to him, then opened the file and started spreading pictures out before him.
“Shit!” Johnny’s gaze jerked away from the photos. “What the hell is this?”
“A dead girl parade,” Dean said. “I mean, that is what you called it the other night, isn’t it? When you were trying to convince your girlfriend that it would be a good idea to go and have a screw where all these poor women were buried.”
They didn’t really look like women, not anymore. “Get that shit away from me!”
“We found evidence of more murders out at the lighthouse. We found the body of Alexa Chambers—”
“I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that!” Were they trying to pin this shit on him?
“We also found other trophies that the killer had taken and a map that we believe may lead us to additional victims.”
Johnny jumped out of his chair, but the cuffs didn’t let him move far. “I didn’t kill those women!”
“But you did go to Sand Island today, didn’t you? You caused the explosion.”
Johnny’s gaze flew to the door. “I want to see the police chief.”
“You’re seeing me.” Avery’s voice was flat.
Johnny kicked out at the table. “I want Trey in here! I want him in here, now! He’s not going to pin this shit on me! I did my part. I did exactly what I was supposed to do, and I’m not going down for this—”
“Your part?” Dean asked him. “Just what part was that?”
His breath heaved in and out, seeming to burn his lungs. “I ain’t saying another word. Not until I see Trey, do you understand?” Those FBI bastards were trying to railroad him. Trey would help him.
“You shot a cop.”
He swallowed. “He was shooting at me.” Kill or be killed . . .
“Bullshit,” Avery snapped. “You were trying to run away, and when you got caught, you decided to go down fighting.”
Because he wasn’t about to get tossed in a cage.
“You’re going away,” Dean said, as he took his time walking toward Johnny. “For a long time. So if you want any leniency from the government, now’s the time to talk. Now is the time for you to tell us everything that you know about the Lady Killer.”
His frantic heartbeat was shaking his whole chest. “What makes you think I know anything?”
Dean stared at him. “You shot a cop. You attacked Gabe and Jessica Montgomery. You wouldn’t have done that for no reason.”
The cuffs bit into his wrists.
“Tell us the reason, Johnny. Tell us why you went over the edge.”
His chin jerked up. “I didn’t go over no edge.”
“Then tell us . . . why?”
The door to that little room opened again. Only this time Trey was there. Looking furious, his cheeks red, his eyes blazing. But he directed that fury at the FBI agent. “You started the interrogation without me?”
Johnny saw Avery’s shoulders stiffen. “The FBI is in charge of this investigation—”
Trey stalked closer to the guy. And closer to Johnny.
Johnny’s gaze dropped. Trey had his weapon holstered on his right hip.
“My man was shot,” Trey nearly yelled at him. “This is my island, my people—”
“And your people have been dying for a while.”
Trey jumped closer. He was just two feet away from Johnny. “You don’t interrogate my people without me!”
Johnny leapt forward then, trying desperately to get that gun—
But Dean grabbed him. Shit, he’d forgotten about him. He’d been so silent—
Dean shoved him back into the chair, held him there with a grip of steel. “Not going to work like that,” Dean told him in a voice that made Johnny’s whole body tense. “You’re not going to attack us, and you’re sure as hell not going to go out the easy way.”
Easy way.
Johnny tried to heave against his hold. “Nothin’ easy . . . about it!”
Suicide wasn’t easy. His mother had gone out like that, because she’d been so sick of being an abusive bastard’s punching bag. But it hadn’t been easy. She’d bled out so slowly. That blood had soaked her rug before she died.
“Why did you go after them?” Dean asked him.
“L-Lawyer . . .”
“Did you kill those girls?” Dean pressed. “Your ‘parade of dead girls’ out there?”
Johnny glared back at them.
“I don’t think you did. I think you were too young for some of those murders. But I think . . . I think you know who did kill them.” Dean shoved him away.
Johnny sat back down. The cuffs were still cutting into him. He tried to look like he wasn’t scared. That he didn’t give a shit. That was the way he would look. I can do this. I can—
Trey had paced away from him but suddenly whirled back around. “Where’s your uncle, Johnny?”
Johnny blanched.
And Trey’s narrowed eyes said he saw the telling movement. “We tried to contact him at the marina and I sent a man to his house . . . but he wasn’t there.”
“He was . . . helping with the search,” Johnny lied. “You know that. He’s probably still out on one of the boats.”
Now Avery was leaning over the table. “We’re going to search your house. Your marina. We’re going to tear your life apart.”
“And your uncle’s life,” Dean added.
Johnny stared down at the table. He didn’t have anything else to say to these SOBs.
“Where is Clay?” Trey asked him.
Trey and his uncle used to be such good friends. Back in the day. Before a woman had torn them apart. Johnny started laughing then, because he just couldn’t help it. “She screwed you over in the end, the same way she did him.”
Trey slapped the table. “Where is he?”
“It’s over,” Johnny said. “All fucking over.” He forced his head to lift. “Now get me a lawyer.”
EVE WAS BACK on the balcony at the condo. Pierce was a few feet away, watching her too carefully, and Gabe—he was close. Not touching her, but watching, just like Pierce.
She was tired of everyone watching her.
Pierce cleared his throat. “You need to . . . let me know how much I owe you, Spencer. I can give you a check and you and your team can be off the island by dusk.” He waved toward the ocean’s waves. “There’s talk of a tropical storm rolling in soon, so it’d be better if you were—”
“I’m not leaving Eve.”
“Jessica,” Pierce fired back. “Her name is—”
“I like Eve,” she said, staring out at the water. She could see the dark clouds in the distance. They reminded her of the smoke she’d seen before, back on Sand Island. “I know Eve. Jessica . . . I’m not sure I want to know her.”
“What?” Pierce caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. “You’re not making sense.”
“Secrets,” she said, the word sad as it fell from her lips. “How many have you been keeping?”
His gaze darted to Gabe. “I told you before, we could talk privately—”
“I trust him.”
Gabe edged closer to her. The wind tossed locks of her hair around her face.
“He’s helped me from the beginning, when no one else would. And he asked for nothing in return.”
Pierce’s cheeks reddened. “You’ve known him for days—”
She laughed. “Yes, well, currently, that’s my record, you see. Because I don’t think the hazy memories count. And since I’ve known him longer than I’ve known anyone else . . .” She gave her brother a weak smile. “I’m trusting him.”
Anger glinted in Pierce’s eyes. “Because you’re fucking him.”
Why was everyone so concerned about her sex life?
She took a step back and her shoulders bumped into Gabe.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “She is.”
Ah, okay.
Pierce shook his head. “I thought you were past that.”
Past having sex?
“But I guess . . . with all the trauma . . . you reverted.”
He’d totally lost her. Probably because the guy was running around and keeping his secrets. “What are you talking about?”
Pierce’s lips thinned. “It’s because of what he did . . . what he tried to do. That’s why you . . . acted out with men when you were younger.”
Her own mouth parted in surprise.
“The shrinks said you were trying to take control back, by taking those lovers.” He turned from her. Stared out at the water. “You were so young. And you were running wild. Sleeping with Trey. With Clay Thompson . . . with others that I don’t even know about.”
She backed even closer to Gabe.
“With anyone who caught your eye. You didn’t have to know the guys for long. And, hell, it’s not like you really wanted them. Though they sure wanted you. The men took one look, and they wanted you.” Pierce glanced back at her, at Gabe. “That’s what’s happened with you, right, Spencer? You took one look, and you wanted. And I guess Jessica fell back into her old habits.”
He sounded furious with her.
But . . . whatever, so Jessica had enjoyed lovers. Men did that crap all the time. They had plenty of lovers and no one cared. Why did that make her—
“Each lover you took just made things worse for you,” Pierce said, and some of the anger had slid from him. “The darkness he’d made inside of you just got worse.”
He’d made?
A half smile—one that looked both sad and angry—twisted Pierce’s lips. “Do you still sleep with your clothes on, Jessica? Those long sweatpants and the T-shirts that swallow you?”
An ache was in her stomach. She pressed back, edging ever closer to Gabe. His arm curled around her shoulder, holding her tight. “Y-Yes . . .”
“Want to know why you do that?”
No. “Yes.”
“Because he would watch you when you were younger. He’d come into your room . . .”
She shook her head even as she felt tears begin to sting her eyes. This isn’t right. This isn’t—
“I didn’t know, not for so long. You didn’t tell me, and I thought you realized you could tell me anything.”
Come with me, sweetheart, let’s play a game . . .
That voice was in her head, but she couldn’t see the man it belonged to. She never could.
“The lighthouse . . .” Eve murmured.
Pain flashed over Pierce’s face. “He used to take us there. And there . . . he tried to hurt you.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“You must have known what he had planned.” Pierce’s voice was so low, like a growl. “Because you had a knife. I—I heard you laughing, screaming and laughing, and I rushed inside. You’d stabbed him.”
Blood on my hands.
“Who was the fucker who did this?” Gabe’s voice was savage.
“Our father,” Pierce said. “The man who had the ear of presidents. The man who sat on the board of a dozen charities. The man who was a damn monster.”
I won’t let him touch me. She could almost hear herself saying those words. I’ll kill him first.
“I stopped you.” Pierce’s shoulders hunched. “Maybe I shouldn’t . . . you . . . you broke after that.”
Gabe’s arm tightened around her.
“Started sleeping with Trey, with Clay, with them all . . . one after the other. You were choosing, you said. You were in control.”
Her skin was itching, burning. No, she was burning, from the inside out.
“Then he and our mother died in that accident, and you—you tried to take your own life.” He stepped closer to her. Torment was clear to see on his face. “You were all I had left. Was I supposed to just let you go? I did everything I could . . . everything . . . to save you. I sent you to that hospital, I got you therapy, I got you help, and you were strong again. You were better, until . . .”
Until she’d vanished?
“I just want you better,” Pierce whispered to her. “And there is nothing to be gained by telling Trey about your past. That will only raise suspicion. He’ll wonder . . . did you kill them? He’ll wonder because, Christ, I wondered, too.”
That hole inside of her was getting bigger with every moment that passed. “Is it any surprise . . .” Her voice was so cold. “. . . that I wanted to forget my life?”
Pierce shook his head. “No.”
“I . . . I need you to leave.” She was about to bowl over with the pain. She couldn’t do that. She needed control.
Pierce drew in a long breath. “I kept telling you that Spencer needed to leave. Now he should—”
She grabbed for Gabe’s hand. Held tight. “Not him. You. I need you to leave. I—I can’t talk to you right now.” Too much was happening. She didn’t want to shatter in front of him. He was a stranger.
Pierce actually backed up a step, as if she’d just struck him. “But I love you. I want to help you.”
She believed him. He did love his sister.
“I should have helped before. I should have seen it. But he was my father! The damn great Montgomery legend. When I came home from college, I kept noticing that you were more withdrawn, I knew something was happening, but I couldn’t figure out what. Not until it was too late.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to be too late again.”
She shivered. She couldn’t keep talking to him. Couldn’t keep hearing more about her past. She didn’t want to be Jessica. She wanted to be Eve.
Eve . . . who’d woken in that hospital, scared but not shattered. Alive.
Eve . . . who’d met Gabe. Who looked into his eyes and found a man she could trust.
Eve . . . who’d wanted Gabe, not for any other reason than that he made her feel. Passion. Need. Desire.
“Leave now,” Gabe said as he pulled Eve so that she was standing behind him. “Can’t you tell she needs time? You just—”
He broke off and she was afraid of what he might say.
You just destroyed her.
Because that was how she felt.
So her father had molested her? She’d tried to kill him? Maybe she had killed him? Her own brother thought so.
She’d slept with men she couldn’t remember.
And she kept seeing blood on her hands.
“When you broke up with Trey,” Pierce’s voice was haggard, “I was afraid you were . . . falling back into your old routine. He told me that you—you’d been spotted with different men in town, that you were flirting wildly at the marina party that night.”
Did I sleep with the man who tried to kill me?
“Go,” Gabe gritted again. “She’s had enough for today.”
Her knees felt like they were about to give way.
This isn’t me. This isn’t me. He’s wrong. He doesn’t know.
But . . . her brother should know.
Gabe stopped waiting for Pierce to move on his own. As Eve watched, eyes widening, he grabbed Pierce and hauled him off the balcony and back into the condo. She watched them through the glass doors. Before Gabe pushed Pierce out of the penthouse, he bent and whispered something to her brother. Something that made Pierce jerk back and shake his head.
Gabe spoke again, the words too low for her to hear.
And Pierce left, hurrying away. He looked over at her right before the front door shut.
Then he was just . . . gone.
Let’s play a game . . .
Eve shook her head, hard.
No games. No more. Not ever.
Her hand curled in, as if . . . as if the fingers were curling around a knife.
No games.
“Eve?”
Her head whipped up. Gabe was there. Staring at her with a gaze she couldn’t read.
She needed to know what he was feeling. Disgust. Pity. Fear. What did he feel when he looked at her? What?
He was about five feet from her. She couldn’t force her body to move an inch in order to get closer to him.
“We need to talk,” Gabe said, voice quiet. Too quiet.
He’s going to leave . . . he doesn’t want me anymore. Not now that he knows about me.
“Yes.” She had to move, but she couldn’t. She had to—
“I’m not the man you think.”
He was moving slowly toward her. His blue eyes were on hers, staring hard and deep.
He was so wrong, though. He was exactly the man she thought he was. True and strong and—
His hand lifted. His knuckles brushed over her cheek. “You’re afraid.”
Afraid that he was going to leave. That she was a monster. A killer. Yes, she was afraid of plenty right then.
“Why?” His hand was warm against her cheek.
“Because of . . . what I’ve done.”
He kissed her.
Eve was so stunned that her heart actually seemed to stop in that instant. It wasn’t a rough kiss. Wasn’t wild with passion or fury. Just . . .
Tasting.
Claiming?
“I’m not the man you think,” he said against her lips. “And if anyone can understand darkness, baby, it’s me.”
He was wrong. He—
“It’s time you knew the truth about me.” His head lifted, just a few more inches. His eyes . . . so blue . . . so deep. “I tried to tell you before that I wasn’t some hero.”
To her, he was.
“If you’re pushed far enough, anyone can go over the edge.”
Her breath seemed too ragged. “Have you been pushed . . . ?”
“You know someone took my sister.”
She managed a nod.
“By the time the cops realized she wasn’t with her ex, she’d been missing for days . . . fucking days. They thought there was no chance that she was still alive. They gave up on her.”
Eve had goose bumps on her arms.
“I’d been in that VA hospital, fighting for my life, fighting to get free so I could go to her.” The lines near his mouth deepened. “When I finally got loose, Wade and I didn’t give up on her. Wade wasn’t like the rest of those jerks in the homicide department—he wasn’t backing down. But the days kept slipping by, and soon I thought . . . maybe I’ll just be finding her body. Maybe that’s what I’ll be bringing back home.”
“Gabe—”
“I had to bring her home.”
Her lips wanted to tremble so she pressed them together. Her hands wanted to reach for him, so she wrapped them around her stomach.
“We realized the guy who had taken her had been a patient she’d seen at the hospital. We found him at an old cabin in the mountains.” He swallowed and the soft click was almost painful to hear. “My sister was dead . . . but she hadn’t been dead for long. It was still her when I looked at the body. He’d kept her alive all that time. Tortured her. She’d fought to hold on, fought to live long enough to come back to me, and I got to her too late.”
Too late. Those were the same words that Pierce had said, only now they knifed right into Eve.
“He was there, that bastard who’d taken her. Talking about voices in his head, voices that made him hurt women. He told me that he’d killed her two days ago. He just told me. Wade had his badge, so I guess the guy thought we were just going to take him and get him locked up in a psych ward once he started spouting his stories.”
“He . . . he didn’t realize she was your sister.”
“Not until I started punching him.”
She backed up a step, instinctively. His gaze noted the movement, but no change of expression crossed his hard face.
“Wade had to pull me off him. I wanted to beat the bastard to death with my bare hands.”
He looked down at his hands now. So did she. Strong, powerful hands. Hands that had caressed every part of her body.
“I’ve got blood there, too, baby. Blood that won’t ever wash away.”
He understood.
“The guy went for a scalpel . . . a scalpel he’d used on her. Seemed the man liked to play doctor with the nurses, only he wanted to cut them open, not heal them. He came at me with that scalpel . . .” His gaze lifted. Held hers. As if he had to be sure that she was paying attention to this part. “And I shot him in the heart.”
Her breath exploded from her lungs. “Y-You were defending yourself.”
“I was a SEAL. I could have disarmed him in a dozen ways. I didn’t want to. I wanted him dead. Wade knew that, he knew exactly what I’d done, but he still backed up my story.”
She wasn’t retreating any longer.
“There was plenty of suspicion, but I was the grieving brother, and the guy’s guilt in Amy’s murder was obvious. So the cops closed the case, and I learned to live with the darkness in me.”
He’d told her about that darkness before. She hadn’t believed him. Or . . . had she?
Why was I so drawn to him? Because I sensed he was like me?
“I started LOST so other families would have a choice, so they could find their loved ones and not have to face the monsters out there.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I didn’t want them pushed to the edge the same way I was, because when you’re pushed too far—”
“There’s no going back,” she finished softly.
“No. There isn’t.”
The crash of the waves seemed so loud, and a chill had swept over her. The sky seemed to be darkening around them.
“Say something, Eve.”
“I—I understand.”
“You’re afraid.”
Not of him. “Are you afraid of me?” Because she’d attacked her father. Killed him? I don’t know.
“Never.” His hands wrapped around her shoulders. He pulled her closer to him. Closer was exactly where she wanted to be. “I want you just as much as I always have, and that is fucking more than anything else.”
That was the way she wanted him. It wasn’t about having control. About taking control . . .
It was about Gabe. About how he made her feel.
“I’m a killer, Eve. You need to understand that.”
She shook her head.
But he nodded. “If anyone tried to hurt you, I would kill that bastard.”
If anyone tried to hurt me, I’d kill him myself. That whisper was inside of her. Dark. Cold. And . . . true. She knew it. Whoever she’d been in the past—she hadn’t just cried and taken her pain. She’d fought back.
And she would keep fighting. Jessica . . . Eve . . . she would keep fighting.
She rose onto her toes, and her mouth pressed to his.
TREY POUNDED ON the door. “Clay!” he yelled. “We have a warrant to search the premises! Open the door!”
Agent Granger was behind him. Dean Bannon was there, too. He’d argued against bringing the guy, but Granger had insisted, saying that Bannon had previous FBI experience they could use.
Freaking FBI—they stuck together too much.
“Doesn’t look like he’s opening the door,” Granger said.
No, he wasn’t. But that was because Trey didn’t think Clay was there. Half a dozen boats were still missing from the marina. People out searching . . . Clay out running?
But, screw it. He was done waiting. He had a tropical storm bearing down on him, an injured officer, and another dead body in the town’s too little morgue.
The mayor was having a shit fit, and this was ending. Now.
Trey kicked open the door. Rushed inside. “Clay!”
No answer. Had the guy already gotten off the island? Used any of the dozens of boats housed at his marina? That was a definite possibility. Talk about your perfect access. With the marina his to control, Clay could have taken out his victims on different boats anytime he wanted. No one would have known what he was doing. Not until it was too late.
Footsteps pounded in behind him. Granger and Dean. They were all searching through the house.
“Found something!” Granger yelled.
Trey whirled away and ran toward the shout. The FBI agent was in a bedroom, one that looked out over the water and one with—
A shrine?
“That’s Eve,” Dean said. “I mean, Jessica.”
That was Jessica Montgomery. Dozens of pictures of her. Pictures of her as the beautiful teen that Trey remembered. Pictures of her as the woman she was now. Pictures of her running along the beach. Pictures of her naked in bed.
“Were Eve and Clay lovers?”
Trey’s back teeth locked together. “Once.” A fucking long time ago.
“We need all available resources looking for this man,” Granger said. “The bastard got his nephew to try and cover his tracks . . . we have to find him!”
Because they thought Clay was their killer.
Trey stared at those pictures of Jessica. Beautiful, perfect Jessica. In her bed. The silken sheets around her . . . and . . .
Someone had been in the photos with her.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out more in them. But the man with her was blurry, a bit indistinct. He was— “Sonofabitch.” He whirled for the door. He needed to get to Jessica. Right then.
“What the hell?” Dean jumped in his path. “Where are you going?”
“Jessica—”
“Is with Gabe. She’s safe. We have to work at finding this bastard here.”
The guy didn’t get it. No one understood. He threw back his hand toward that creepy shrine. “It’s him!”
“What?”
Jessica wasn’t safe with Gabe. She wasn’t safe at all. He had to get to her while there was still time. “It’s him!” He snarled again. “Gabe!” And he shoved Dean out of his way.
He was getting to Jessica. No one was going to stop him.
No. One.