Two FBI agents are caught in a merciless vigilante’s crosshairs in New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Eden’s electric Killer Instinct series

Sheltered in the shadows of the Smoky Mountains is the suspect who’s summoned FBI agent Macey Night’s fears to the surface. Every day that the “Profiler,” a vigilante serial killer, escapes justice is another day she’s reminded of what it is to be a ruthless predator’s prey. Capturing him is a craving deeper than anything she’s felt in a long time. But Agent Bowen Murphy, equal parts sexy and volatile, seems hell-bent on changing that. Working together—needing, living and breathing each other—they’re entwined to distraction.

Bowen’s used to operating on impulse: act, don’t feel. Now Macey and the controlled terror behind her beautiful eyes have him rethinking everything, including his rule to never get close to a colleague. He’s willing to fight for a future with Macey, but the consequences of love could be deadly.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Eden

“Eden expertly twines terror and true love in her second Killer Instinct contemporary romantic thriller.… This winning tale is a tightly plotted, expertly characterized adrenaline rush from start to finish.”

—Publishers Weekly on Before the Dawn (starred review)

“Cynthia Eden writes smart, sexy and gripping suspense. Hang on tight while she takes you on a wild ride.’’

—New York Times bestselling author Cindy Gerard

“Sexy, mysterious, and full of heart-pounding suspense!”

—New York Times bestselling author Laura Kaye

“Suspenseful, sexy fare that keeps you turning pages until you reach the story’s conclusion.”

—RT Book Reviews on After the Dark

“Eden shines with this taut romantic thriller, which opens her Killer Instinct series.”

—Publishers Weekly on After the Dark

“A dynamic and fully vested cast of secondary characters keeps the suspense and intrigue flowing.”

—Smexy Books on After the Dark

“After the Dark is an action-packed thrill-ride of a tale that starts with an exciting scene and keeps the tension going for the entire book.”

—Night Owl Reviews

Into the Night

Cynthia Eden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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First, I want to thank my readers. My readers thrill me every single day. Thank you for your support and your emails and for all of the encouragement that you give to me. My readers keep me typing at the keyboard because I can’t wait to share new stories!

I also wanted to send a special shout to my friends… Skyla—lady, you can always make me smile. And for Amy—woman, if you don’t write your own book soon, I’ll be angry! You ladies are my favorite witches and hanging with you always inspires me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

Copyright

PROLOGUE

THE LIGHT WAS in her eyes, blinding her. Macey Night couldn’t see past that too bright light. She was strapped onto the operating room table, but it wasn’t the straps that held her immobile.

He’d drugged her.

“I could stare into your eyes forever.” His rumbling voice came from behind the light. “So unusual, but then, you realize just how special you are, right, Dr. Night?”

She couldn’t talk. He’d gagged her. They were in the basement of the hospital, in a wing that hadn’t been used for years. Or at least, she’d thought it hadn’t been used. She’d been wrong. About so many things.

“Red hair is always rare, but to find a redhead with heterochromia...it’s like I hit the jackpot.”

A tear leaked from her eye.

“Don’t worry. I’ve made sure that you will feel everything that happens to you. I just—well, the drugs were to make sure that you wouldn’t fight back. That’s all. Not to impair the experience for you. Fighting back just ruins everything. I know what I’m talking about, believe me.” He sighed. “I had a few patients early on—they were special like you. Well, not quite like you, but I think you get the idea. They fought and things got messy.”

A whimper sounded behind her gag because he’d just taken his scalpel and cut her on the left arm, a long, slow slice from her inner wrist all the way up to her elbow.

“How was that?” he asked her. His voice was low, deep.

Nausea rolled in her stomach. Nausea from fear, from the drugs, from the absolute horror of realizing she’d been working with a monster and she hadn’t even realized it. Day in and day out, he’d been at her side. She’d even thought about dating him. Thought about having sex with him. After all, Daniel Haddox was the most respected doctor at the hospital. At thirty-five, he’d already made a name for himself. He was the best surgeon at Hartford General Hospital, everyone said so.

He was also, apparently, a sadistic serial killer.

And she was his current victim.

All because I have two different-colored eyes. Two fucking different colors.

“I’ll start slowly, just so you know what’s going to happen.” He’d moved around the table, going to her right side now. “I keep my slices light at first. I like to see how the patient reacts to the pain stimulus.”

I’m not a patient! Nothing is wrong with me! Stop! Stop!

But he’d sliced her again. A mirror image of the wound he’d given her before, a slice on her right arm that began at her inner wrist and slid all the way up to her elbow.

“Later, the slices will get deeper. I have a gift with the scalpel, haven’t you heard?” He laughed—it was a laugh that she knew too many women had found arousing. Dr. Haddox was attractive, with black hair and gleaming blue eyes. He had perfect white teeth, and the kind of easy, good-looking features that only aged well.

Doesn’t matter what he looks like on the outside. He’s a monster.

“Every time I work on a patient, I wonder...what is it like without the anesthesia?”

Sick freak.

“But not just any patient works for me. I need the special ones.” He moved toward her face and she knew he was going to slice her again. He lifted the scalpel and pressed it to her cheek.

The fingers on her right hand jerked.

Wait—did I do that? Had her hand jerked just because of some reflex or were the drugs wearing off? He’d drugged her when she’d first walked into the basement with him. Then he’d undressed her, put her on the operating table, and strapped her down. But before he could touch her anymore, he’d been called away. The guy had gotten a text and rushed off—to surgery. To save a patient. She wasn’t even sure how long he’d been gone. She’d been trapped on that operating table, staring up at the bright light the whole time he’d been gone. In her mind, she’d been screaming again and again for help that never came.

“You and I are going to have so much fun, and those beautiful eyes of yours will show me everything that you feel.” He paused. “I’ll be taking those eyes before I’m done.”

Her right hand moved again. She’d made it move. The drugs he’d given her were wearing off. His mistake. She often responded in unusual ways to medicine. Hell, that was one of the reasons she’d gone into medicine in the first place. When she was six, she’d almost died after taking an over-the-counter children’s pain medication. Her body processed medicines differently. She’d wanted to know why. Wanted to know how to predict who would have adverse reactions after she’d gone into cardiac arrest from a simple aspirin.

It’s not just my eyes that are different. I’m different.

But her mother...her mother had been the main reason for her drive to enter the field of medicine. Macey had been forced to watch—helplessly—as cancer destroyed her beautiful mother. She’d wanted to make a change after her mother’s death. She’d wanted to help people.

I never wanted to die like this!

But now she could move her left hand. Daniel wasn’t paying any attention to her fingers, though. He was holding that scalpel right beneath her eye and staring down at her. She couldn’t see his face. He was just a blur of dots—courtesy of that bright light.

She twisted her right hand and caught the edge of the strap. She began to slide her hand loose.

“The eyes will be last,” he told her as if he’d just come to some major decision. “I’ve got to explore every inch of you to see why you’re different. It’s for the good of science. It’s always for the good. For the betterment of mankind, a few have to suffer.” He made a faint hmm sound. “Though I wonder about you...about us. With your mind...maybe...maybe we could have worked together.”

And maybe he was insane. No, there wasn’t any maybe about that. She’d gotten her right hand free, and her left was working diligently on the strap. Her legs were still secured so she wasn’t going to be able to just jump off the table. Macey wasn’t even sure if her legs would hold her. The drug was still in her body, but it was fading fast.

“But you aren’t like that, are you, Dr. Night?” Now his voice had turned hard. “I watched you. Followed you. Kept my gaze on you when you thought no one was looking.”

She’d felt hunted for days, for weeks, but she’d tried to tell herself she was just being silly. She worked a lot, and the stress of the job had been making her imagine things. She was in her final few weeks of residency work, and everyone knew those hours were killer.

Only in her case, they literally were.

“You don’t get that we can’t always save every patient. Sometimes, the patients die and it is a learning experience for everyone.”

Bullshit. He was just trying to justify his insanity.

“You see things in black and white. They’re not like that, though. The world is full of gray.” He moved the scalpel away from her cheek...only to slice into her shoulder. “And red. Lots and lots of red—”

She grabbed the scalpel from him. Because he wasn’t expecting her attack, she ripped it right from his fingers and then she shoved it into his chest as deep and as hard as she could.

Daniel staggered back. Macey shot up, then nearly fell off the table because her legs were still strapped and her body was shaking. She yanked at the straps, jerking frantically against them as she heard him moaning on the floor.

The straps gave way. She sprang off the table and immediately collapsed. She fell onto Daniel—and the weight of her body drove the scalpel even deeper into him.

“You...bitch...”

“You bastard,” she whispered right back. Then she was heaving off him. Her blood was dripping from her wounds and she crawled to the door. He grabbed her ankle, but she kicked back, slamming her foot into his face, and Macey heard the satisfying crunch as she broke his nose.

He wasn’t so perfect any longer.

“Macey!”

She yanked open the door. Her legs felt stronger. Or maybe adrenaline was just making her stronger. She ran out of the small room and down the hallway. He was going to come after her. She knew it. She needed help. She needed it fast. There were no security monitors on that hallway. No cameras to watch her. No help for her.

Her breath heaved out and her blood splattered onto the floor. She didn’t look back, too terrified that she’d see Daniel closing in on her. The elevator was up ahead. She hit the button, smearing it with her blood. She waited and waited and—

Ding. The doors slid open. She fell inside and whipped around.

Daniel was coming after her. He still had the scalpel in his chest. Because he’s a freaking doctor. He knows that if he pulls it out, he’s done. He’ll have massive blood loss right away. But the longer that scalpel stays in...

It gave him the chance to come for her.

His lips were twisted in a snarl as he lunged for the doors.

She slapped the button to close the elevator, again and again and again, and the doors closed.

Macey was shaking, crying, bleeding. But she’d gotten away. The elevator began to move. Gentle instrumental music filled the air.

The doors opened again, spitting her out on the lobby level. She heard the din of voices, phones ringing and a baby crying somewhere in the distance. She walked out of the elevator, naked and bloody.

Silence. Everything just stopped as she staggered down the corridor.

“H-help me...”

A wide-eyed nurse rose from the check-in desk. “Dr. Night?”

Macey looked down at her bloody body. “H-help me...”

CHAPTER ONE

“I’VE FOUND HIM.” Macey Night exhaled slowly as she faced her team at the FBI headquarters in Washington, DC. All eyes were on her, and she knew just how important this meeting was. She’d spent five years hunting, searching, never giving up, and now, finally... “I believe that I know the location of Daniel Haddox.” She cleared her throat and let her gaze drift around the conference room table. “Daniel...the serial killer otherwise known as ‘the Doctor’ thanks to the media.”

A low whistle came from her right—from FBI special agent Bowen Murphy. “I thought he was dead.”

Macey had wanted him to be dead. “I never believed that he died from his injuries. That was just a story that circulated in the news. Daniel was the best surgeon I ever met. He knew how to survive.”

“And how to vanish,” said Samantha Dark. Samantha Dark was in charge of their team. The group had been her brainchild. Samantha had hand selected every member of their unit. The FBI didn’t have official profilers—actually “profiler” wasn’t even a title that they used. Instead, Samantha and her team were called “behavioral analysis experts.” But the people in that conference room were different from the BAU members who worked typical cases in the violent crimes division.

Each person in that small conference room—each person there—had an intimate connection to a serial killer.

Her gaze slid over her team members.

Samantha Dark...so fragile in appearance with her pale skin, dark hair and delicate build, but so strong inside. Samantha’s lover had been a killer, but she had brought him down. She’d been the one to realize that personal connections to serial perpetrators weren’t a weakness...they could be a strength.

Tucker Frost. The FBI agent’s bright blue stare held Macey’s. Tucker’s brother had been a serial killer. The infamous Iceman who’d taken too many victims in New Orleans. His exploits were legendary—scary stories that children whispered late at night.

Her hands fisted as her gaze slid to the next member of their team. Bowen Murphy. His blond hair was disheveled, and his dark gaze was intense as it rested upon her. Bowen had hunted down a serial killer, a man who the local authorities had sworn didn’t exist. But Bowen had known the perp was out there. A civilian, he’d gone on the hunt and killed the monster in the shadows.

And then...then there was Macey herself. She’d worked side by side with a serial killer. She’d been his victim. She’d been the only “patient” to escape his care alive.

Now she’d found him. After five years of always looking over her shoulder and wondering if he’d come for her again. She’d. Found. Him. “You’re right, Samantha,” Macey acknowledged with a tilt of her head. “Daniel Haddox did know how to vanish.” Her voice was quiet. Flat. “But I knew he wouldn’t turn away from medicine. I knew he would have to return to his patients. He would have to pick up a scalpel again.” But there had been so many places he could have gone. He could have easily stayed under the radar, opening up a clinic that only dealt in cash. One that didn’t have any government oversight because it wasn’t legitimate. One that catered to the poorest of communities.

Where he would have even greater control over his victims.

“I also knew that he wouldn’t stop killing,” Macey said. Once more, her gaze slid back to Bowen. She often found herself doing that—looking to Bowen. She wasn’t even sure why, not really. They’d been partners on a few cases, but...

His gaze held hers. Bowen looked angry. That was odd. Bowen usually controlled his emotions so well. It was often hard to figure out just what the guy was truly thinking. He would present a relaxed, casual front to the world, but beneath the surface, he could be boiling with intensity.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were hunting him?” Bowen’s words were rough, rumbling. He had a deep voice, strong, and she sucked in a breath as she realized that his anger was fully directed at her.

“The Doctor isn’t an active case for our group,” Macey said. They had more than enough current crimes to keep them busy. “We have other killers that we have been hunting and I didn’t want to distract from—”

“Bullshit.” His voice had turned into a rasp. “You forgot you were on a team, Macey. What impacts you impacts us all.”

She licked her lips. He was right. Her news did impact them all. “That’s why I called this meeting. Why I am talking to you all now.” Even though her instincts had screamed for her to act. For her to race up to the small town of Hiddlewood, North Carolina, and confront the man she believed to be Daniel Haddox. But... “I want backup on this case.” Because the dark truth was that Macey didn’t trust herself to face Daniel alone.

Samantha’s fingers tapped on the table. “How can you be so sure you’ve found him?”

Macey fumbled a bit and hit her laptop. Immediately, her files projected onto the screen to the right. “This victim was discovered twenty-four hours ago.” Her words came a little too fast, so she sucked in another breath, trying to slow herself down. “A victim who is currently in the Hiddlewood ME’s office. The autopsy hasn’t even begun, but the medical examiner was struck by what she felt was a ritualistic pattern on the victim.” She licked her lips. “Look at the victim’s arms. The slices, from wrist to elbow. The Doctor always made those marks first on his victims. Those are his test wounds. He makes them to be sure his victims can feel the pain of their injuries, but still not fight him.”

Silence. Macey clasped her hands together. “We got lucky on this one because we have a medical examiner who pays close attention to detail—and who seems very familiar with the work of Daniel Haddox. Dr. Sofia Lopez sent those files to the FBI, and I’ve got...I’ve got a friend here who knew what I’ve been looking for in terms of victim pathology.” When she’d seen those wounds, Macey had known she’d found the bastard who’d tormented her. “I think the man who killed this victim is Daniel Haddox, and I think we need to get a team up to Hiddlewood right away.”

Tucker leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the screen. “You think this perp will kill again? You’re so sure we’re not dealing with some copycat who just heard about Daniel Haddox’s crimes and thought he could imitate the murders?” Tucker pressed.

No, she wasn’t sure. How could she be? “I think we need to get up there.” Her hands twisted in front of her. She wasn’t supposed to let cases get personal, Macey knew that, but...how could this case not be personal? Haddox had marked her, literally. He’d changed her whole life. She’d left medicine. She’d joined the FBI. She’d hunted killers because...

Because deep down, I’m always hunting him. The one who got away. The one I have to stop.

Samantha stared at her in silence for a moment. A far-too-long moment. Macey realized she was holding her breath. And then—

“Get on a plane and get up there,” Samantha directed curtly. Then she pointed to Bowen. “You, too, Bowen. I want you and Macey working together on this one. Get up there, take a look at the crime scene, and...” Her gaze cut back to Macey. “You work with the ME. If Daniel Haddox really committed this homicide, then you’ll know. You know his work better than anyone.”

Because she still carried his “work” on her body. And in her mind. In the dark chambers that she fought so hard to keep closed.

But now I’ve found you, Daniel. You won’t get away again.

Tucker rose and came around the table toward her as she fumbled with her laptop. “Macey...” His voice was pitched low so that only she could hear him. “Are you sure you want to be the one going after him? Believe me on this...sometimes confronting the demons from your past doesn’t free you. It just pulls you deeper into the darkness.”

Her hands stilled on her laptop. She looked into Tucker’s eyes and saw the sympathy that filled his stare. If anyone would know about darkness, it would be Tucker. She lifted her chin, hoping she looked confident. “I want to put this particular darkness in a cell and make sure he never gets out.”

He nodded, but the heaviness never left his expression. “If you and Bowen hit trouble, call in the rest of the team, got it? We always watch out for each other.”

Yes, they did.

She put her laptop into her bag. Tucker filed out of the room, but Samantha lingered near the doorway. Bowen wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Macey figured that he must have slipped away while she was talking to Tucker. Clutching her bag, she headed toward Samantha.

“How many victims do you think he’s claimed?” Samantha’s voice was quiet as she asked the question that haunted Macey.

Every single night...when she wondered where Daniel was...when she wondered if he had another patient trapped on his table. How many? “We know he killed five patients before he took me.” They’d found their remains in that hospital, hidden behind a makeshift wall in the basement. Daniel had made his own crypt for those poor people. He’d killed them, and then he’d sealed them away.

“He’s been missing for several years,” Macey continued. Her heart drummed too fast in her chest.

“And serial killers don’t just stop, not cold turkey.” Samantha tilted her head as she studied Macey. “He might have experienced a cooling-off period, but he wouldn’t have been able to give up committing the murders. He would have needed the rush that he got when he took a life.”

How many victims? “I don’t know how many,” Macey whispered. And, because she trusted Samantha, because Samantha was more than just her boss—she was her friend—Macey said, “I’m afraid to find out.”

Because every one of those victims would be on her. After all, Macey was the one who hadn’t stopped him. She’d run away from him, so terrified, and when she’d fled, he’d escaped.

And lived to kill another day.

Samantha’s hand rose and she squeezed Macey’s shoulder. “You didn’t hurt those people—none of those people.”

“I ran away.” She licked her lips.

“You survived. You were a victim then. That’s what you were supposed to do—survive.”

She wasn’t a victim any longer. “I’m an FBI agent now.”

“Yes.” Samantha held her gaze. “And he won’t get away again.”

No, he damn well wouldn’t.

After a quick planning talk with Samantha, Macey slipped into the hallway and hurried toward her small office. As always, their floor was busy, a hum of activity, and she could hear the rise and fall of voices in the background. She kept her head down and soon she was in her office, shutting the door behind her—

“I would have helped you.”

Macey sucked in a sharp breath. Bowen stood next to the sole window in the small room, his gaze on the city below. His hands were clasped behind his back, and she could see the bulk of his weapon and holster beneath the suit jacket he wore.

She put her laptop down on the desk. “Samantha said we should be ready to fly in an hour. She’s giving us the FBI’s jet to use—”

He turned toward her. “Do you trust me, Mace?”

Mace. That was the nickname he’d adopted for her, and half the time, she wasn’t even sure that he realized he was changing her name. But...it was softer when he said “Mace” and not “Macey.” For some reason, she usually felt good when he used that nickname.

She didn’t feel good right then. Do you trust me? Was that a trick question? She frowned at him. “You’re my partner. I have to trust you.” Or else they’d both be screwed. She was supposed to watch his back, and he was supposed to watch hers. It was pretty much the only way the FBI worked.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he considered her. “I have to ask... What will happen if you come face-to-face with Daniel Haddox?”

She stared up at him, but for a moment, she didn’t see Bowen. She saw Daniel. Smiling. His eyes gleaming. And a scalpel in his hand. The scalpel was covered in her blood.

Bowen’s square jaw hardened. “We’re on this team because Samantha thinks our connections to killers give us special insight into serial crimes. We’re not here because we’re trying to follow our own personal agendas.”

Hurt, she took a step back. “My agenda?” Anger hummed in her blood and, just that fast, she didn’t see Daniel any longer. She just saw Bowen. Bowen with his handsome face, his dark eyes, his strong jaw—a jaw that was currently clenched. Bowen with his broad shoulders and his athletic build. Bowen...the guy she’d thought would understand, more than anyone else, exactly why she had to do this. “You’re the man who hunted a serial and killed him. You’re the one who went out for your own justice, not me.”

He looked away from her. “There are things you don’t know...”

Because Bowen wasn’t exactly the sharing sort. That was fine, neither was she. “I’m not going up there to kill him.”

Now he turned his stare back on her.

“Isn’t that what this whole trust talk is about?” She tugged on her right sleeve, making sure it was perfectly in place, as always. She didn’t like for anyone to see her scars. When people saw them, they tended to just—stare. And stare. And then to look at her with sympathy or horror. “You want to know what my plans are? Do you want to know if I’m going up there so that I can exact some vengeance on the man who tried to kill me?” Her words hung in the air between them.

He was supposed to say something.

He didn’t.

Damn it. He did want to know all that.

“Samantha trusts me.” So maybe she emphasized trust a bit too much there. “You should, too. I’m going up there to stop a killer. I’m not going to Hiddlewood so that I can become one.”

He took a step closer to her. “Is that what you think I am? Do you look at me and see a killer?”

She thought she’d lost control of the conversation. Total control. She smoothed a hand over her hair. “No, look...we need to get packed, okay? There’s a lot of work to do and not a lot of time. I’ll just—I’ll see you on the jet.” Macey backed away from him.

She started checking her desk, grabbing any notes she needed and trying to look anywhere but at Bowen as she heard him pace toward the door.

But he didn’t leave her office. At her door, he stilled. She knew because she’d snuck a quick glance at him. He filled her doorway, his broad back tense, and his hands on the door frame. He didn’t look back at her as he said, “I hate that he hurt you.”

Join the club. I hate that he got away. I hate that he’s killed someone else. Maybe a whole lot of people. I hate it so much that it makes me sick.

“You aren’t the only one who has been looking for him,” Bowen rasped. “You think I haven’t been searching for the bastard, too?”

Surprise rocked through her. “Samantha assigned you to his case?” Sometimes they did look into the colder cases but—

“No.” He’d finally glanced over his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with Samantha or the rest of the team. It’s about you. He hurt you. And I want him to pay. So I’ve been looking for the bastard. I’ve been hunting him.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “You just found him first.”

Unease slithered through her. Macey stopped searching through her desk. “Bowen?”

“He won’t hurt you again. I’ll make sure of that. Like I was trying to tell you before, you should trust me. I’ll always watch your back.”

Then he was gone. And she was left staring at the door.

* * *

BOWEN MURPHY HAD one weakness in this world, and that weakness was named Macey Night. The beautiful, brilliant and very, very untouchable Macey Night.

He watched her now as she headed down the flight of stairs that led to the medical examiner’s office in Hiddlewood. Their flight to North Carolina had been brief—and quiet. Macey wasn’t the kind of person who filled the air with idle chitchat. Macey was intense, Macey was focused...and Macey had been driving him insane for years.

Ever since he’d first walked into the FBI’s DC office and seen her.

He’d heard her story before he met her. The woman who’d escaped from the infamous Doctor, the MD who’d walked away from her medical career so that she could catch violent criminals. Macey came in a small package, she barely skimmed over five feet three inches, but the woman was pure power. She was dead-on with her gun, and when it came to crime scenes, she always seemed to find details that others overlooked.

And as for the bodies...

No one gets the dead like she does.

They’d reached the end of the stairs. Macey looked back up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulders. Her red hair was straight and fell in a blunt cut that framed her delicate face perfectly. Her gaze drifted to him, and that gaze was as unnerving as always. And not because she had two different-colored eyes—something he found oddly sexy—because it was her. Because he often felt as if Macey could see straight into him.

A bad thing. Because inside? He was dark and twisted.

“Dr. Lopez is supposed to have the victim ready for us. I just need to get a look at the vic’s wounds, and then we can go forward from there.”

By going forward, he hoped that meant a fast trip to the crime scene. He wanted to get hunting. Because even if the perp wasn’t Daniel Haddox, that meant they still had a killer out there. One that needed to be stopped before anyone else was hurt.

Macey adjusted her sleeves, a move he’d seen her do dozens of times, and Bowen’s hand flew out, wrapping around her wrist. “You don’t need to hide.”

He felt her pulse jump beneath his fingers.

“Your scars don’t matter, Mace,” he continued, staring into her eyes. “Forget about them.”

“I can’t.” He saw a crack in her mask. A glimpse at the pain she always carried on her own. “They remind me that I let him get away. That I didn’t stop him.”

Fuck that. “You were a victim who escaped a sadistic bastard.” And his fingers slid under her right sleeve. He felt the faint line of raised skin there. “The only thing these scars should do is tell you how strong you are.”

Her lips parted. She stared up at him and he was leaning in toward her. Too close. He should back away. He should let her go. But her sweet scent—Macey always smelled like lavender—had wrapped around him. He didn’t want to back away. He wanted to get closer.

The door opened down the hallway. “Dr. Night?” a feminine voice called.

Macey pulled her wrist from his grip. “Yes, I’m Special Agent Night.” She nodded toward Bowen. “And this is my partner, Special Agent Bowen Murphy.”

The woman hurried forward as she offered her hand first to Macey, then to Bowen. “Sofia Lopez.” She wore a white lab coat and her dark hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. Dr. Lopez was young, probably close to thirty, and her dark gaze was steady. “I’m so glad that you both came down here. As soon as I saw the body...those marks on the arms—” her gaze slid right back to Macey “—I immediately thought of you.”

Bowen tensed.

But Dr. Lopez shook her head. “That sounded wrong. Let me try again.” She offered Macey a weak smile of apology. “I remembered your story. A few years ago, it was splashed all over the news. I always follow the big crime stories. I’m something of a crime buff. But with my job, guess that makes sense, huh?”

Very few stories had been as big as Daniel Haddox’s gory tale. The public had an unquenchable appetite for darkness. At least, that was how it seemed to Bowen. And the handsome doctor who’d been slicing up his patients? Hell, three movies had been made about him.

Dr. Lopez cleared her throat. “The wounds you received on your arms were very specific, and when it was revealed that Dr. Haddox marked all of his victims that way—”

“Why don’t you show us this victim?” Bowen cut in. Macey looked uncomfortable and she was back to tugging at her sleeve.

“This victim, right!” Dr. Lopez said. She spun on her heel. “I have her waiting on my table.”

Bowen followed the ME and Macey into the exam room. As soon as he stepped inside, the smell hit him like a punch. He hated the odor that he always found waiting within the labs of coroners or medical examiners. Bleach, bodies, hell.

But he approached the exam area determinedly, his gaze sweeping over the woman on the table. The woman had pale blond hair, delicate features and appeared to be in her early twenties. “Do we have an ID for the vic yet?”

“Yes.” The ME pulled up a chart. “The crime team actually recovered her driver’s license at the scene. She’s Gale Collins, twenty-two, a college student at the University of North Carolina.”

“Where was she found?” Bowen asked.

The ME’s lips pulled down. “She was...she was dumped in town. Literally. Her body was just tossed behind one of the motels. She wasn’t killed there,” Dr. Lopez added quickly. “Not enough blood at the scene. Someone just wanted to get rid of her body.”

Macey’s brows furrowed. “That wasn’t part of Daniel’s MO. He didn’t give up his prey.”

No, the sick prick had sealed them in the walls of his hospital. But since the guy didn’t have a hospital any longer, maybe he’d had no choice.

“Based on the body decomp and lividity, I think our vic was killed within the last forty-eight hours.” The ME blew out a quick breath. “I’ll be able to narrow down that time frame with more testing.”

“Were there any signs that she’d recently had surgery?” Macey asked quietly as she pulled on a pair of gloves. Bowen stood back. Macey was the one who worked on the bodies. He had a rule about the dead—he gave them justice, but he didn’t examine them. Hell, no, that wasn’t his department. So Bowen locked his arms over his chest and watched her work.

“Nothing that I could detect with a preliminary exam,” Dr. Lopez replied.

Macey pulled back the sheet and her eyes narrowed.

Bowen blew out a hard breath. The Doctor made a mess of her. Anger tightened his body. The son of a bitch sure seemed to like hurting women.

Macey’s fingers trembled around the sheet. “Well, here, at least, he stuck to his pattern.”

A sick, sadistic pattern.

“He hurt her for a very long time,” Macey added softly. She cleared her throat. “I’m assuming you’ve already started the blood work to find out what mix of drugs he gave to the victim?” Her fingers slid toward the victim’s wrist. “The bruising here is consistent with straps being used to secure the patient. He locked the straps very tightly.” She swallowed. “Probably because he wanted to be sure that he never made the same mistake again with a victim.”

Her gaze slid to Bowen. He knew exactly what she meant. The mistake he made with you, Macey? When you were able to slip away from the bastard?

Macey moved around the table and lifted the sheet so that she could study the victim’s ankles. “More bruising,” she murmured. “The Doctor secured his victims both by their wrists and their ankles so that they could not escape his procedures.”

“His procedures?” The words burst from Bowen. “You mean his tortures.”

The ME’s eyes widened as she stared at him, but Macey’s expression never altered.

Shit. Get the control back. He knew how to handle a scene like this. By the fucking book. The problem was that when he looked at the victim on that exam table, he kept seeing Macey. Kept seeing what could have happened to Macey five years ago if she hadn’t managed to get away.

And he saw what had happened to her. And if that perp was up there, if he was still in the small mountain town...

I’m going to find you. I’m going to stop you. You will not hurt another victim.

“So...it’s his work, right?” Dr. Lopez’s voice sharpened a bit as she came closer to the exam table. She had on gloves, too, and she lifted the victim’s right wrist. “I knew it as soon as I saw these slashes. From the inner wrist all the way to the elbow, exactly like yours and—”

He’d growled. The sound had just slipped out but both women glanced at him. Macey’s face showed no expression, but she was good at keeping her emotions in check. Far better than he was. Mild alarm had flared in the ME’s eyes. “Is there a problem?” Dr. Lopez asked.

Don’t talk about her scars.

But Macey had caught the ME’s attention once more. “The Doctor liked victims who had unique characteristics,” Macey said quietly. “He wanted victims—”

“Like you,” Dr. Lopez cut in again, nodding briskly. “With heterochromia. And that threw me about this victim. Because I thought both of her eyes were blue at first glance. I mean, when I called the FBI, I’d just seen the wounds on her body. I hadn’t examined her thoroughly at that point. But take a look.” Now her hand moved toward the victim’s face. She opened the victim’s right eye. “Blue. And then...” She opened the left eye.

“Blue.” Macey was frowning.

“That’s what it looks like.” The ME smiled. “But right before you arrived, I realized that our vic was wearing contacts. Or, rather, she is wearing one contact.” Very carefully, she removed the contact from the victim’s left eye and placed it in an evidence bag. “And now you have brown.” Again, her voice held a thread of excitement. “She’s just like you, Agent Night! I mean, that must have been what set him off, right? To find another victim with eyes just like yours. That’s probably why he started killing again after all this time. The Doctor found a victim he couldn’t resist. He found—”

The door to the exam room flew open. Immediately, Bowen tensed and his hand flew toward his holster. But the man standing there, breath heaving, wore a brown deputy’s uniform. A star gleamed on his chest. Bowen recognized the guy immediately. Deputy Coleman Quick. Quick had been sent to meet them at the airport. The deputy had been their escort in Hiddlewood, the small town that bordered North Carolina and Tennessee.

“We’ve got another one,” Coleman said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “The sheriff wanted me to take you two out to the scene right away. Said you had to see it.”

Another one? Already? Shit, that wasn’t good. Two kills so close together showed definite escalation on the part of the perpetrator.

But...

It also means our killer is still here. We can get the bastard because he hasn’t fled the area yet.

Without a word, Bowen lunged toward the deputy and he knew Macey was right on his heels.

* * *

A SWIRL OF blue lights illuminated the scene as the deputy braked his vehicle. Macey and Bowen were right behind Deputy Quick in their rented SUV and, when their vehicle stopped, Bowen quickly killed his engine. Macey reached for the door handle.

But Bowen grabbed her wrist, holding tight. “You don’t have to go in.”

What? Her head whipped back toward him. He couldn’t be serious. She’d come to finally stop this particular nightmare from playing out again and again.

“It’s going to be...” Bowen huffed out a breath. “You know it’s going to be bad inside. After the last vic, I just... It may be too personal for you.”

Because that victim had been so similar to Macey. The eyes. God, her eyes are just like mine.

“I can handle this,” Bowen continued, his voice grim. “I can check the scene and report back to you.”

“I can handle it,” she told him flatly. She wasn’t about to be cut out of this investigation. Yes, it had hurt to see Gale Collins and the wounds on her body—too familiar wounds. But the pain that woman had endured—it had just made Macey all the more determined to stop Daniel. As I wish I’d stopped him years ago. She swallowed. “We have work to do. Let’s get moving.” She pulled her wrist free of his hold and jumped from the vehicle. Voices were rising all around her. Other deputies were already at the scene, and she was sure the sheriff was inside that little cabin. Such a nondescript place. Not high on a mountain, but nestled down low, in the middle of the woods. In the middle of nowhere.

They’d traveled down an old, winding graveled drive to get to the place. And now...

The sheriff appeared in the doorway. His grizzled face was grim and the star on his chest gleamed dully in the light. When he saw her, he tensed a bit, and then his gaze slid behind her to Bowen.

“FBI Special Agents...Night and Murphy, right?” he said. He offered his hand to them. “I’m Sheriff Burt Morris.”

Macey shook his hand. She could feel his calluses beneath her touch. His shake was strong, but not too hard.

He briskly shook hands with Bowen, then said, “I never seen anything like this in all my whole life.” A Southern twang slipped in and out of his words. “And before I retired up here, I worked homicide in Atlanta. But this... Jesus H. Christ. How does someone decide to do this to another human being?”

Daniel’s motivations were still shrouded in mystery. Macey still didn’t know exactly why he’d one day switched from saving victims to killing them.

Morris ran a hand over his face. “You two are the ones who study these guys, right? Take a look and tell me how a person could do that shit. Tell me how. Tell me why.”

Macey squared her shoulders and hurried inside. Her gaze swept over the small living room, and she saw what looked like some kind of makeshift medical office. There were rows and rows of medicine bottles, some medical instruments, even an exam chair.

Was he practicing off the grid? Setting up a practice out here, out of his damn home? A practice and a torture parlor—all in the same place.

“Bedroom,” Morris said from behind her, his voice cracking a bit. “Go in there, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She could smell the odor coming from that room. The distinct scents of blood and death weren’t easy to miss.

The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet. She lifted her chin as she entered the room, squared her shoulders and prepared to find another woman, cut, tortured but—

The Doctor.

Macey took two steps inside the bedroom before she froze.

There was blood. There was so much blood. It was on the ceiling. On the walls. The victim had been restrained, but not on top of an operating room table, as was Haddox’s MO. Instead, the victim in that back bedroom had been tied to the four-poster bed. Thick ropes were around the victim’s wrists and ankles.

There were wounds on the victim’s arms. Long slashes from wrists to elbows. There were deep cuts on the victim’s face. On the torso. Horrible, deep abrasions. But...

“That’s fucking him, isn’t it?” Bowen’s whisper. His breath blew lightly against her ear and she could only nod.

They weren’t looking at a female victim. They were staring at a male who’d been horrifically tortured before death.

And Macey knew the victim in that bed. The man who’d been murdered...the man who had been a helpless victim, who’d known pain and anguish in his last moments.

That man was the notorious Doctor.

She was staring at Daniel Haddox. The killer she’d been so desperate to find was right in front of her. Only...

Someone else found him first. And that someone had made absolutely certain that Daniel would never kill again.

Goose bumps rose to cover Macey’s skin, and she couldn’t look away from the dead man on the bed.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE STOOD IN front of the motel room door. Door number seven at a small, no-tell-motel-type place. The paint on the door was chipped. The light to her right kept flickering, and Macey knew she should turn around and walk away. Her room was right next door. She was in room number eight. She should go back inside number eight, shut her door and stay in for the night. That was what she should do.

But Macey knew that she wasn’t going to leave. She couldn’t. So she lifted her hand and she banged against that door. Lucky seven. As if anything had been lucky. The night air was brisk, sending a chill over her skin as she waited, and a moment later—

The door opened. Bowen stood there, his hair slightly mussed and a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. “Macey? Has something happened?” His dark gaze darted over her shoulder. “Did the sheriff learn anything new?”

“Not yet.” She’d been at the crime scene for hours, unable to tear herself away, and Bowen had been right with her. They’d made sure there were no slipups at the scene. The Doctor was dead, apparently killed within the past twelve hours judging by the body’s lividity. His victims finally had justice.

So why doesn’t it feel that way?

“May I come in?” she asked when Bowen continued to stand in the doorway.

He blinked and stepped back. “Right, yes, of course.” He motioned for her to come into his room. Like the room next door, her room, the place was small but clean. Clean enough, anyway. Two double beds were in the motel room, and a nightstand was situated between them.

She stared at the nearest bed for a moment.

“Uh, Macey? You all right?”

No, I am far from all right. “I thought we’d put him in jail. I thought we’d catch him and we’d lock him up. He’d go to court, the judge would find him guilty and Daniel would never hurt anyone again.” Because he’d be locked away for the rest of his life. Caged.

Silence. The kind that stretched too long.

She looked back over her shoulder and found Bowen’s dark gaze on her. His blond hair was tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it and faint stubble covered his hard jaw.

“He will never hurt anyone again,” Bowen said.

Because the dead couldn’t hurt anyone. Because someone had killed the killer. Her lips wanted to tremble, so she pressed them together. Her stomach was in knots. It had been that way ever since she walked into that bloodstained back room of the cabin. “This isn’t the way I wanted it to end.”

He just stared at her. No judgment on his face.

“It isn’t.”

Bowen took a step toward her. “You don’t have to explain or justify to anyone.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Sure as hell not to me.”

Because Bowen was the man who had killed a serial murderer...long before Bowen had joined the FBI. He’d hunted down the killer himself when local law enforcement wouldn’t help him. When they wouldn’t believe him. He’d found the evidence. He’d found the killer.

And in the end, he’d had to kill that man in order to survive.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Am I supposed to be glad that he’s dead?” It wasn’t the FBI agent talking. That wasn’t who she was right then.

I don’t know who I am.

“Am I supposed to be happy that someone found Daniel Haddox and gave him the same pain that Haddox gave to his victims? Is that supposed to make me feel good?”

Bowen was leaning against the wooden motel room door. “I don’t think you’re supposed to feel any way. You just feel—Mace, you feel any way you want. You’re entitled. You were the guy’s victim.”

Her shoulders stiffened at that one word. Victim. She’d fought hard to stop being a victim. She’d joined the FBI so she would never be a victim. She’d be the one who hunted the killers. The one who brought justice. Not a victim. Never that again.

“He hurt you. He nearly killed you. If you want to be glad, then, damn it, be glad. Be—”

She found herself stumbling toward him. The control she prided herself on was in tatters. No, it had been sliced apart.

Only, not with his scalpel this time.

“Macey?”

She put her hands on his chest. “I need it to stop.”

A faint furrow appeared between his brows. “What? What do you want to stop? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

She licked her lips. “I need the pain to stop.”

His eyes widened. “Mace...”

“Because it’s been eating at me ever since I was on his table.” A truth she hadn’t shared with anyone else, not even the FBI shrink that her team had to see every now and then to make sure they stayed psychologically healthy while they tackled their cases. When you worked day in and day out with serials, the pressure could get to you. Everyone had to go in for psych evaluations. Only, maybe she didn’t share how she really felt during those visits.

I feel more than pressure. I feel pain. It’s what I always feel. And I need it to stop. “I thought it would end when we caught him. Closure, right? Isn’t that how it works? I catch the man who hurt me, who killed so many others, and then the pain goes away because he is locked away.” No longer hunting in the dark.

Bowen’s hands rose and curled around her shoulders. She liked his touch. It was warm and she felt so cold. But then, she always felt warmer when she was around Bowen. Warmer, safer.

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “But the pain isn’t going away.” And Macey felt a tear slide down her cheek. “Why won’t it go away?”

His face hardened. “Macey...”

“Make it go away.” She shouldn’t be saying these things to him. She shouldn’t be in his room. She shouldn’t be near him, but...

Bowen wants me. I’ve seen it before. In his eyes. In the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching him. When he thinks no one is watching. He’d never said anything wrong to her. Not a misplaced word. Never done anything wrong. But...she’d sensed the awareness between them. The attraction.

She’d ignored it. Or tried to. Maybe he’d slipped into her dreams some nights. His dark eyes and his strong hands. His sexy mouth. But those had just been dreams. Dreams that worked their way past the nightmares she had so often.

I thought the nightmares would stop when we finally caught Daniel. The nightmares and pain. But the pain Macey felt was still just as strong as ever.

Will the nightmares be just as strong, too? Because maybe she wasn’t going to ever get over the attack. She’d wanted to be strong, but she just felt so twisted on the inside.

He’s dead. He’s dead. And when I first saw the body...the first thing I thought was...

He’d gotten what he deserved.

Pain twisted within her even more. What am I becoming? “Make it go away,” Macey said again. She tightened her hold on Bowen’s shoulders and pushed onto her tiptoes. “Please.”

His lips parted as if he would speak, but she didn’t give him the chance. Macey pressed her lips to his. Her kiss wasn’t seductive or teasing. It was desperate. She was desperate. And he—

His hands tightened on her shoulders and he slowly pushed her back.

Oh. My. God. The pain in her chest just got worse.

His eyes seemed to have gone even darker as he stared at her. “What are you doing?”

She’d thought she was kissing him. Her cheeks burned.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” His hold on her shoulders didn’t ease. If anything, his grip grew harder as a muscle jerked along his jaw. “You don’t want to play with me.”

She wasn’t playing. And she wasn’t going to hold back. She couldn’t, not then. Macey was far too raw for any sort of games. “Do you want me?”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Because I think you do.” She was putting it all out there. Macey couldn’t think about consequences in that moment. She didn’t want to think of them. Pain seemed to be eating her up from the inside out, and she wanted to escape that pain.

Pleasure—pleasure would combat pain. But she wasn’t going out and hooking up with some random stranger. She couldn’t. Not with her past. She was always too afraid of the secrets others might be keeping. Secrets meant danger.

Bowen wasn’t some stranger. Bowen. She trusted him. He was her partner. Her friend. And that night, she wanted him to be more.

“Yes.” He seemed to hiss the word. “I fucking want you.” His voice had never sounded so rough to her before. Her heart thudded in her chest. “But I’ve been doing a damn fine job of keeping my hands off you.”

Yes, he had. Never a wrong touch. Never a wrong word. “They aren’t off me now,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. “Macey, you are playing with fire.”

Only because she wanted to get burned. “I don’t want your hands off me. I want them all over me. I want you.” There. She’d done it. Laid her pride bare to him. He’d pushed her away when she kissed him, so maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut, but Macey wasn’t herself that night. She felt as if she’d shattered into a million pieces and then been put together all wrong. Everything was wrong and she just needed the world to stop spinning so wildly, for just a few moments. To just stop.

“Be careful what you say.”

“I’m always careful. Every moment of every single day.” Even before her attack, she’d been so careful. The studious college coed. The diligent MD student. The hardworking resident. She’d been the good girl all her life, and what had it gotten her?

Scars. Pain.

I came back together wrong.

“I don’t want to be careful tonight.” Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he didn’t understand—“Tonight,” Macey blurted. “That’s all I want.” She wasn’t looking for some kind of a forever promise. She didn’t want one. She needed to feel something other than pain. Needed to see something other than Daniel’s dead body.

Right then, she was staring into Bowen’s eyes. And she could see, she could see—

He wants me.

“Spell it out for me, Mace,” he said. “Tell me exactly what you want tonight.”

“I want you.” She licked her lips. His gaze immediately dropped to her mouth and she swore the darkness of his stare heated. “I want you to make l—have sex.” She stumbled over the words. “With me.” They wouldn’t be making love. Love didn’t enter into the equation.

“We’re partners. The FBI won’t let us cross that line,” Bowen said. “You know—”

“We’re not dating, Bowen. And the FBI brass isn’t here.” Yes, she was breaking rules. Screw it. “I want to be with you. But if you want me to go—” Don’t, don’t, don’t.

He didn’t speak. She wouldn’t fall apart. Her chin lifted and she pulled away from him, stepping back. “I see.” He was blocking the door. Another problem. How could she make her not-so-graceful exit when he was in the way? “Will you please move?”

His face was so tight and hard. Angry. But he stepped to the side. She reached for the door. Opened it—

Only to have Bowen’s hand fly up and slam that door shut again. Suddenly, he was right behind her, his body surrounding hers. His hand was pressed to the door just above hers, and his face was bent beside hers. “Remember, when this is over—” his words were a rumble “—you came to me. You asked for me.”

Slowly, but with her heart racing so fast and hard she feared he could hear the frantic beat, Macey turned to face Bowen. He’d trapped her between the door and the burning heat of his body. “I know exactly what I’m asking for.” If he thought she’d regret this in the morning, he was wrong.

But Bowen shook his head. “Not what, Mace.” Mace. For some reason, when he said her nickname—the nickname that only he used—her breath stuttered a bit. “Who. Remember who you asked for. Who you wanted.” His eyes never left hers. “You wanted me. You came to me.”

He wasn’t going to let her leave. She saw that, felt it with utter certainty. She would have smiled but she was having trouble breathing because, yes, this was going to happen. She’d escape her pain for a bit and then she’d wake up tomorrow and the world would be back to its tainted self.

But that was tomorrow.

For the night...

“If I kiss you again, will you push me away?” Macey asked him.

“I’ll never let you get the fuck away.”

Maybe his words should have scared her. But they didn’t. He didn’t mean those words. They were only talking about the night. Nothing more than that. Just hours in the dark.

“Open your mouth for me,” he told her. “Let me in this time.”

Then he was the one to kiss her. And she made sure her lips were parted. His tongue swept inside her mouth and there was nothing hesitant about his kiss. It was hot. It was rough. It was consuming. And it was exactly what she wanted.

She gave herself fully to his kiss, holding nothing back. With her eyes closed, with her body pressed to his and her mouth desperate on his, she didn’t see her past. She didn’t see anything at all. Macey just felt. And she liked how she was feeling.

His hands were sliding down her back. Pressing to the curve of her hips, dragging her even closer to him. His arousal thrust toward her, heavy and thick, and there was no doubt that he wanted her. She hadn’t been wrong about him. Her instincts had been dead-on. He’d felt the attraction, just as she had. But he’d been following the rules.

Screw the rules. For that night, anyway. They could go back to playing things safe the next day. Dawn would bring safety. For the darkness, though, in the darkness, safety was the last thing she wanted.

Her clothes were in the way. His were in the way. She wanted to be skin to skin with him. Wanted to feel every single inch of his body against hers. But...

Scars. She always worked so hard to cover her arms.

She pulled away from him and her lashes lifted as she stared into Bowen’s eyes.

“Changing your mind?” Bowen growled. “Better do it now—”

Macey shook her head. No way was she changing her mind. Then, still staring at him, she began to unbutton her blouse. His gaze fell to her chest and then his eyes narrowed. When the shirt hit the floor, he’d see her scars. But...this was Bowen. She trusted him.

Wasn’t that why she was there? Because she knew she could trust this one man?

She let the shirt fall, and, by habit, she started to curl her arms inward, but Bowen had stepped forward. He caught her wrists. Held them ever so carefully in his grip. His thumbs feathered over her pulse points. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

“And you have on too many clothes,” she whispered back.

He laughed. The sound was deep and rumbling and she realized that she hadn’t really heard him laugh much. With their job, there wasn’t ever much to laugh about but...he had a nice laugh. It made little butterflies swirl inside of her.

“That’s an easy problem to solve.” Once more, his thumbs slid along her wrists, but then he freed her, and he went to work on his clothes. As she watched, he tore off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and ditched his socks, and his pants followed as they slid to the floor. She didn’t look away. Didn’t pretend not to be avidly curious about his body. And what a body it was. Strong and tan. Sexy-as-hell abs. Powerful thighs and—

He pushed down his boxers.

She released a quick breath. He was exactly what she wanted. She reached for his cock, but, once more, his hand curled around her wrist.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been dreaming about you far too long. You touch me like that, and what control I have will be shot straight to hell.”

Macey licked her lips and swore she tasted him. “That’s okay. You don’t need to maintain control with me.”

But he shook his head. “You’re the one person I need it with the most.”

No, he was—

He used his grip to pull her closer. Right before his lips took hers, he said, “I’m going to put my mouth on every single inch of you.”

A shiver slid over her. “Promises, promises...”

“Exactly,” he told her, and then he took her mouth once more.

* * *

MACEY NIGHT AND Bowen Murphy had arrived too late. As soon as the victim had turned up in the FBI’s computer system, he’d known that Macey would make the connection to Daniel Haddox. And, just as he’d anticipated, she’d hauled ass getting up to Hiddlewood, North Carolina.

She just hadn’t hauled ass quite fast enough. She hadn’t beat him to Daniel’s cabin. In this particular race, she’d come in dead last.

No, that was Daniel. He’s the dead one.

He stared into the night. Macey and Bowen had gone back to their motel. Was Macey happy, now that Daniel was gone? Did she even realize the gift he’d given to her? Macey hadn’t needed to face the darkness in herself. She hadn’t needed to finally discover...

Will I kill him when I see him? Or will I be able to take him in like a good FBI agent?

He’d saved her the trouble of finding out just what choice she’d make. Though he knew, deep inside, what she’d wanted.

She wanted him dead. I know it. So...he’d made that happen for her. She didn’t have to pretend that she wanted to follow the law. Didn’t have to be the good FBI agent. She could enjoy Daniel’s death.

I gave him exactly what he deserved, Macey. Exactly.

The Doctor had experienced the same torturous pain that he’d given his patients. The bastard had been screaming his fool head off the entire time. He’d also been fighting...because Haddox hadn’t been drugged. There hadn’t been time for that.

Some criminals weren’t meant for a jail cell. Why waste time with a trial? Haddox had been guilty as sin, and he’d been punished for his crimes.

Just as others would soon be punished.

Another race, another kill. Maybe the FBI agents would be better prepared this time, now that the game was truly in play.

He turned away from the mountain and headed for his car. The night was still young. He could easily get to his next target. After all, he knew exactly where his prey was waiting. He’d worked hard to uncover the monsters in the dark.

Now I know where they are. And I will stop them.

When dawn came, Macey and Bowen would get news of another crime. He’d make sure of it. Another race, another killer. He hoped they’d be ready. After all, he had big plans for them both. Very, very big.

Don’t disappoint me, Agents.

CHAPTER THREE

BOWEN’S HANDS SLID over Macey’s shoulders, then smoothed down her arms. She shivered lightly at his touch and her lips parted.

He had his hands on Macey. This wasn’t a damn dream. She was real. And he was having her. When he’d opened the door and seen her standing there, he’d thought something was wrong. It was late, it was dark, and Macey—why would she come to him in the middle of the night unless something had happened with their case?

But this wasn’t about the case. This was about them. And he did not want to screw this up.

“You’re taking too long,” Macey said. Her voice was husky and seemed to stroke right over his skin. Her hands went to her waist and her pants were soon sliding down her gorgeous legs. She’d ditched her shoes—he didn’t even know when she’d kicked off her heels but now she stood before him clad just in a black bra and a black pair of panties. Her body was freaking perfection to him. High, full breasts, curving hips and legs that would soon be wrapped around his waist as he drove into her again and again and made her scream with pleasure.

Because he wanted Macey to scream for him. Scream, come, repeat—again and again. He was planning for one hell of a night.

Her hands started to slide down her panties.

But he caught her, pulled her into his arms and carried her toward the bed. She gave a little gasp as he held her, and damn but she felt too light. So delicate. He’d have to remember that about Macey. Sometimes, he just saw her strength. But there was more to her. So much more.

He put her on the bed. She stared up at him, her arms braced behind her. The bra she wore was sexy as sin—pushing up her breasts—and he just had to touch her. He followed her onto the bed, and, as promised, he began to taste Macey. Every single inch. Because he’d wanted to have his mouth on her for a very long time.

Bowen knew he was breaking the rules. He just didn’t care. For Macey, he’d do just about anything. Pity she didn’t realize that.

He slid down the straps of her bra. First one, then the other. He put his hands on her breasts, stroking the nipples, teasing them, and then he took one sweet nipple into his mouth and sucked her. She gasped and her body arched up against him.

He licked her. Sucked harder. Lightly used the edge of his teeth on her.

“Bowen!”

Such a good start. He kissed a path to her other breast. Gave it the same attention. Her legs were spread, so he pushed his lower body between them, and every time that she arched up, his cock pushed against the silken crotch of her panties. She was getting wet for him, he could feel that through the scrap of silk.

Good...but it would be even better when she went wild for him.

Her hands slid over his back and he felt the bite of her nails. He wanted her mark on him, and he damn sure wanted to leave his on her.

Macey. Macey Night.

She had no idea how badly he wanted her. He’d tried to do the right thing. When she’d pressed her lips to his for that very first kiss, Bowen had locked down every muscle in his body. He’d tried hard to fight his ferocious need and tried to send her away.

But...

Macey had wanted him.

And he wanted Macey.

He began to kiss a path down her stomach. Down, down...

“No!” Macey’s sharp cry. At once, his head lifted.

“No, Bowen, you don’t need to—”

Need to? Was she serious? “Hell, yes, I do. I’m dying to taste you.” Then he bent his head, slid his body back more...and he kissed her, pressing his mouth right to the silk of her panties. Her whole body stiffened and he kissed her again. “Told you, sweetheart, I’ll be putting my mouth on every inch of you.” He was a man of his word. Macey should have known that about him.

His fingers slipped under the edge of silk and he touched her—even softer than the silk. He eased back so he could pull those panties down her legs and he looked up at her face. Her eyes were on him. Her breath came in quick pants and light spots of red stained her cheeks.

So gorgeous.

He tossed the panties and his hands curved around her thighs. With his eyes still on hers, he pushed her legs even farther apart. He lowered his head and then he licked her.

Macey nearly came off the bed. She jerked beneath him and gave a moan. He was holding her tightly, so she couldn’t back away—and he put his mouth on her again. Kissing. Licking. Tasting.

Every inch of you, sweetheart. Every single inch.

Her moans filled his ears. Her taste made him drunk. He kept taking and taking, totally lost because he wanted every-fucking-thing that she had to give him. His cock was aching, and he wanted to shove deep into her, but he didn’t want to stop tasting her. Too good. So good and—

“Bowen!” His name broke from her lips. He looked up and saw her bow off the bed. Her climax ripped through her and she clawed at the sheets.

That’s the first one, Mace. The first...

He watched her as the pleasure poured through her body and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Not with her taste on his lips, not with her body shaking from the release he’d given her.

Fuck, no, I won’t last. He shoved from the bed. Grabbed for the condom he kept in his wallet. Then he went back to her. “I can’t be easy.”

She reached for him. “Good.”

He positioned his body between her legs. His cock pushed at the entrance to her body. Staring into her eyes, he thrust deep, and Bowen was lost. She was so fucking hot and wet and tight, and she drove him out of his mind. He grabbed her hips, his hold too rough and hard, but he couldn’t slow down. All he could do was drive into her, again and again, sinking balls deep. Her legs were wrapped around him. She shoved back up against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her nipples were tight and pink, her lips were swollen and red from his kiss, and she was so sexy that he wanted to fucking own her.

Forever.

“Bowen!” She was coming again. He could feel her release all around the length of his cock, and those silken contractions pushed him straight over the edge. Bowen erupted, sinking deep into her one last time as his own orgasm hit—it slammed into him with the force of a tornado and he knew...there was no going back.

* * *

SHE WAS TRYING to slip out of his bed.

Bowen cracked open one eye. Macey was oh, so carefully lifting his right arm, the arm that had been curled around her midsection. The room was cast in darkness, and he knew hours had passed. They’d crashed hard together, falling into an exhausted slumber, but now, apparently, Macey thought it was time to leave.

Wrong.

“Not dawn yet,” he muttered.

Macey immediately stilled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, you just meant to slip away in the dark.”

She didn’t deny his claim.

Guilty, huh, Mace? But I caught you.

Her fingers slid over his forearm. That forearm had moved back against her midsection and was pinning her to the bed.

“I should go,” she said.

“You should stay.” He turned to fully face her. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. “Because we aren’t done.”

“We...aren’t?”

“Dawn isn’t here yet.” And he wasn’t even close to being finished with her.

“No.” Her voice was soft. “Not yet.”

There was another condom waiting on the nightstand. He’d made sure to get that thing out of his wallet because he had plans for Macey. When a guy was given a perfect fucking gift, he held tight to that gift.

He shifted his position so that he could be even closer to her, and Bowen lifted her hand toward his mouth. He pressed a soft kiss to the scar that began near her right wrist.

He heard her swift inhalation.

“Is it wrong,” Macey asked him, “that I’m glad he’s dead?”

“No.” If she thought that he would judge her, then she didn’t know him. With his past, no, there was no way he could ever think anything about her was wrong.

“I thought about killing him. More times than I can count.”

He pressed another kiss to her scar and tried not to imagine Macey tied down on the freak’s operating room table.

“And I had nightmares about him coming back to kill me.”

Another kiss. Softer. “He won’t hurt anyone again.”

“No...”

And I wasn’t going to let him get to you. Even if that bastard wasn’t dead, I would never let him put his hands on you again, Macey.

“Tomorrow, we forget this,” she said.

Not damn likely.

“We go back to the way things were.”

Maybe he should be clear on this. “There are some things you can’t go back from.” Because he would never forget the way Macey looked when she came for him.

Before she could speak, he’d wrapped his hands around her waist and he’d lifted her so that she straddled him. Macey’s hands flew down and pressed to his abdomen. Her thighs were so soft and her sweet sex...

He stroked her, sliding one finger, then another, into her.

Perfect. No, I won’t forget this. Because I’m not an idiot.

He wouldn’t forget, and he’d work like mad to get her this way again.

She began to ride his hand, arching up and then sliding down. She tightened her delicate inner muscles around him.

“Put the condom on me, Mace,” he urged her, his voice little more than a growl.

She leaned over the bed and he licked her breast. She gave a little gasp—he loved that sexy sound—and then she was grabbing the condom and slipping back to him. Her fingers closed around his cock.

Sweet torture. His eyes squeezed shut. She wasn’t just putting that condom on him—she was stroking him, pumping him in her fist, moving her hand from base to tip again and again.

In other words, Macey was driving him out of his fucking mind.

“Do I get to use my mouth, too?”

Now his eyes flew open. “Hell, yes.”

She gave a laugh and the sound was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Macey was so sensual, so hot...and her mouth...

Her lips closed around the tip of his cock.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! His hands fisted and immediately slammed into the wooden headboard.

Macey stilled. Her mouth left him. “Bowen?”

“Don’t stop, Mace.” Now his voice was inhuman. Too rough. Too fucking wild. Oh, well...

She didn’t stop. She put her mouth back on him. She started licking him and sucking him and he was sure he’d explode. Right then and there.

Bowen tumbled her back onto the bed. He took the condom from her, put it on and was inside her in the next breath. His hands curled around hers and he pushed her wrists back against the bed. He remained there a moment, balls deep in her, his eyes on her, savoring the feel of Macey.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” Macey whispered.

Maybe. She’d driven him to the brink more than a few times.

He withdrew, plunged deep—and they fucking wrecked that bed as control was lost for both of them. Harder, deeper, stronger, he took her.

She arched her back and cried out as she climaxed.

Harder, deeper—

The bed slid across the floor.

He came, surging deep into her and holding her as if...as if he’d never let her go.

* * *

WHEN DAWN CAME, she eased from the bed—and out of Bowen’s arms. She dressed quickly and then tiptoed to the door. Macey glanced back at him, helpless not to do so. He’d given her just what she’d needed that night.

Pleasure.

Oblivion.

Bowen was still in the bed. He was lying on his stomach, with his hand stretched out across the bed. That hand had been around her.

The covers were near his waist and she could easily see his broad back. And the scars there. Bullet wounds. She recognized them for exactly what they were. Bowen hadn’t lived an easy life. He wasn’t an easy man.

He’d been exactly the man she wanted.

She opened the door and crept outside. Moments later, she was back in her room. She stopped trying to be quiet as she headed straight for the bathroom. She could feel Bowen on her skin. His touch, his mouth.

He’d kept his word. His mouth had explored her, everywhere.

She wrenched on the shower faucet and the water thundered down. As the steam began to fill the bathroom, Macey turned toward the mirror and looked at herself.

What have I done?

* * *

HIS EYES OPENED the minute the door closed.

Dawn had come, and Macey had slipped away. She’d asked him for a night. Nothing more. Just the hours in the dark.

He rolled over. The bed smelled like her. Some sweet lavender scent.

Bowen rose and stalked to the bathroom. Then he paused because he could hear Macey’s shower through the paper-thin wall. Macey, in the shower. Wet. Naked.

Just hours in the dark.

His hand lifted and pressed to that wall. Macey might think they were one and done, but he wasn’t so sure. Because...the thing about the dark...

It returned again. Every night.

* * *

“I WANT TO see the body.” Macey squared her shoulders as she faced Dr. Lopez. “I need to study the marks on Daniel Haddox’s body.”

Dr. Lopez had her hair pinned at the nape of her neck. She wore her lab coat and she had a big mug of coffee gripped in one hand. “Figured you’d be showing up.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Though I thought you’d at least wait until eight a.m.”

“We’ve got two dead bodies in this town,” Macey said. “There didn’t seem to be a point in waiting much longer.” She’d barely been able to wait until the ME’s lab opened.

She’d taken a taxi over, leaving a note for Bowen. Because yes, she’d been a coward that way. But she knew he wanted to go and see the sheriff again. And she’d wanted—needed—to see Daniel’s body.

She’d also wanted to avoid an immediate scene with Bowen. Night-afters weren’t really her thing.

“Grab a coat and some gloves and let’s get to work,” Dr. Lopez said.

Right. Macey grabbed the coat and gloves and then she hurried to the table. The body was already in position. Just waiting—

“Is this weird for you?” Dr. Lopez asked, tilting her head as she studied Macey. “I mean, some of the stories say he was your lover.”

“He wasn’t.” Her voice was clipped. “He was just the man who tried to kill me.” Her gaze was on his face. And now he’s the man who is dead.

But she frowned as she stared at him. “Is that...blood...under his eyes?” His eyes were closed, but she swore she could see a faint line of red beneath his lashes. She leaned in closer to get a better view.

The ME did, too. “Looks like it. Could be spatter from his other wounds.”

Because he certainly had plenty of those. Macey’s gaze slid down his chest. His arms. She hadn’t touched him yet and...she was hesitant to do so.

It still doesn’t feel real. I’m standing over his body, and I still feel like this is a dream.

“I’d be glad,” Dr. Lopez announced.

Macey’s gaze jerked toward the ME.

“If it were me,” she added, staring at Macey from under the veil of her lashes. “If some guy had started carving me up like some freaking Thanksgiving turkey, I’d be glad when he died.”

“Not exactly like a turkey,” she replied even as her stomach clenched. Her hand hovered over Daniel’s wrist. The bruising there was so dark, a deep mix of blue and black. He fought against his restraints, tried to get free.

But there was no escape for him. Not this time.

“Sorry. I, um, sometimes I say things without thinking them all the way through.”

Macey glanced back at the ME.

Dr. Lopez gave a little wince. “It’s why I work with the dead. You know...they don’t care if I say something stupid. The living—they mind.”

Macey wasn’t sure what to say.

“Are you glad?” Dr. Lopez blurted.

Macey blinked. That was the only expression change that she allowed herself.

The other woman sighed. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

Yes. “We should start the exam.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Once more, Macey’s gaze slid back to Daniel’s eyes.

“He was as handsome as they said.” Dr. Lopez moved closer to the table. “But he looks different from the pictures I’ve seen. Bleached his hair blond. Interesting touch. With this hair, he looks a bit like your partner, Agent Murphy—”

“He looks nothing like Bowen.” Her voice had gone arctic.

“Sorry,” Dr. Lopez said. She tilted her head. “Do you think he watched any of those movies about himself?”

She thought he had. She thought he’d probably enjoyed them. Macey had been against those films, but no one had listened to her. One slick prick of a producer had even told her movies like that were called “unauthorized” for a reason. They hadn’t wanted her approval. They’d just wanted to share her horror with the world.

“Did you see the films?” Dr. Lopez pushed.

“Didn’t need to. I saw the actual attack.” She hadn’t needed some Hollywood remake of the worst night of her life. Macey sucked in a quick breath as she squared her shoulders. “I want to look at his eyes.”

Because it was bothering her, that swipe of blood that she could see right under each eye. It almost looked as if someone had tried to wipe away the blood.

“What do you think happened?” Dr. Lopez asked. “You think he killed Gale Collins?” She pointed to the cold storage lockers behind her. “You think he had a partner, someone who helped him kill Gale and then that person turned on the good doctor?”

“There was nothing good about him.” She reached for a light, and then, steeling herself, she began to reach for Daniel’s right eyelid.

Dear God.

She felt a punch right to her stomach. She shined the light into his eye, making sure she wasn’t mistaken. Then...then she lifted his left eyelid. “There’s something there.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears.

Dr. Lopez crowded in close. She’d gone silent. She took the light from Macey, shone it into Daniel’s eyes. The left. The right.

Then she grabbed a pair of tweezers.

* * *

“WHAT IS HAPPENING in this town?” Sheriff Burt Morris demanded as he paced the small confines of his office. “First, that poor girl’s body turns up and now...now this? I thought you FBI agents were going to swarm in and catch the guy.”

“Someone else got to Haddox first.” Obviously. “Based on the way he was murdered, it’s apparent that the killer knew exactly who Daniel Haddox was...and what he’d done to his victims.”

Morris stopped pacing. He swung back toward Bowen. “Like...a partner? The guy had a partner? Is that what you mean?”

Macey had never said anyone helped Daniel Haddox when he attacked her. And no signs had ever pointed to the guy working with someone else. But... Haddox had been in hiding for a long time. Perhaps his MO had changed.

But the crime scene didn’t feel like some kind of partner-gone-wrong shit. It felt like a vengeance play. Payback.

“The cabin had been wiped clean,” Bowen continued. “Our perp made sure he didn’t leave any evidence behind.”

The sheriff’s shoulders sagged. “Is he going to kill again? That’s what I need to know, Agent. Are the people in my town safe—or is the killer going to strike again?”

Before he could answer, Bowen’s phone rang. “Excuse me.” He pulled out the phone and saw Samantha Dark’s name on the screen. “I need to take this call. Give me just a moment.” He strode into the hall and put the phone to his ear. “Tell me you’ve got some news we can use up here.” Because things took a serious right-hand turn straight to hell.

“I need you and Macey in Gatlinburg, Tennessee.” Her voice was brisk. “And I need you there now.”

“Uh, Samantha, we’ve got two bodies here. One of those bodies belongs to Daniel Haddox.” He knew she didn’t need the reminder. But... “And you just want us to pack up? In the middle of our investigation?” He marched down the hall, not wanting the sheriff to overhear. “The local sheriff is worried about another kill, and I have to agree with him. The Haddox scene was a freaking bloodbath, and things aren’t looking good—”

“Patrick Remus.”

At the name, ice tightened around his heart. “Patrick the Pyro? Shit, don’t tell me he’s in action again.” Because Patrick was a killer the FBI had been hunting for months. The guy was an ex-firefighter who liked the flames too much. He picked victims and trapped them in isolated locations. Then he set those poor souls on fire.

“He may not be in action very much longer.” Her voice was quiet. “A video went up on the internet one hour ago. A video that one of our techs picked up. In that video, Patrick Remus is tied to a chair and someone is pouring gasoline on him.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

Shit.

“The FBI was able to track down the location of the person who posted that video. We traced the IP address and we know the individual is in Tennessee.” Her voice carried easily to him. “Local law enforcement is closing in, but you’re less than an hour and a half away from the scene at your current location. I need you to get your ass over there. Get to the scene. I need your eyes. I need you and Macey to see what’s happening there.” Her rough expulsion of breath crackled over the phone. “Two serial killers. Haddox and Remus. Two of the worst out there...both seemingly targeted. And both within such a close distance of one another? I do not like this.”

Someone was hunting serials? We’re the ones who hunt the serials. That was the whole purpose of their group. They were the ones who went in. They were the ones who got the job done.

“Check out the scene in Gatlinburg. Haddox is already dead,” Samantha continued grimly. “We don’t have to hunt him any longer.”

But they did need to hunt the bastard who’d killed him. Was he just supposed to walk away?

“I think the cases are connected,” she said. “My gut—every instinct I possess—tells me that two serial killers...both of them in such close proximity...both of them targeted...”

He knew where she was going. “You believe Haddox’s killer moved to Gatlinburg.”

“He finished his work in North Carolina, and yes, I think he could have moved on.”

Shit.

“I’m sending Tucker up to North Carolina so that we can keep a team member with the sheriff and his team there. It will take Tucker a few hours to arrive, but he’ll be there by nightfall. In the meantime, I need you and Macey in Gatlinburg. Right now, we have to operate under the assumption that Remus is still alive and that he is still in Gatlinburg.”

He understood. “We’ll be there,” he told her.

He ended the call and headed back in to see Sheriff Morris. “There’s...been a development,” he began quietly. “Another case nearby. Agent Night and I need to head out for the day, but the FBI will continue to provide you with backup on this case.”

“What?” The sheriff’s jaw dropped. “You’re leaving? With two bodies here?”

I may have another victim close by. Another killer turned victim. “We’re needed in Gatlinburg.”

Morris’s eyes widened. “Why? Is there another body there?”

A soft knock sounded behind Bowen. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Macey standing there. A Macey who looked too pale and wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Had Samantha already called her? Was that why she’d come to the sheriff’s office?

“We found something. Dr. Lopez and I...” Macey cleared her throat. She had a manila file clasped in her hand. “I wanted you both to know about it. It’s...very distinct. Could be our killer’s signature.” She headed toward the sheriff’s desk. Her hands trembled a bit as she opened the file. Then she swallowed. “The killer...he put nails into Daniel Haddox’s eyes.”

What the actual fuck?

“Dr. Lopez made pictures for you.” Her fingers pushed the photos across the desk. “This is...this is not something that Daniel Haddox ever did to his own victims. And this did not happen with Gale Collins. Dr. Lopez and I checked. The nails...” She straightened her shoulders. “It’s specific to Daniel’s killer.”

“Why would someone drive nails into the guy’s eyes?” the sheriff demanded.

Macey finally turned her stare onto Bowen. One brown eye. One blue. Just like Gale. “He picked me because of my eyes,” she said, her voice strained as she glanced back at the sheriff. “And I suspect that is the same reason he picked Gale. The killer knew that. The eyes—I think he made Daniel regret that he’d ever looked into our eyes.”

Son of a bitch.

“This is why you can’t leave!” the sheriff exploded. “We need you here. This case needs you! You understand this sick bastard out there!”

“Leave?” Macey blinked. “But...why would we be leaving?”

Because another serial is out there...and he’s about to die. “Samantha needs us in Gatlinburg. She thinks—” he cleared his throat “—there is a possibility that a victim there may be related to these kills.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “Another victim? Already?” And he knew by the tone of her voice that she carried the same fears he did.

The killer is accelerating too fast. There is no cooling-down time between his kills. He’d already been working to build a profile on this guy...and it wasn’t looking good.

Highly intelligent, extremely organized, with knowledge of crime scene analysis and police investigations.

In other words, a killer who would be very hard to catch.

And that was why Samantha wanted them to get in a chopper and get their asses over to Gatlinburg right then. Because if the guy was still there, they had to take him out.

He nodded toward the sheriff. “Our colleague Tucker Frost will be arriving in town by this evening. He’ll make sure to provide you with support until we return.” Because they weren’t just going to leave and not look back. That wasn’t how they worked.

Then he turned and followed Macey out of the sheriff’s office. They didn’t speak again until they were outside. The sunlight fell down on them as they approached the SUV.

“Who’s the victim?” Macey asked him.

“Patrick Remus.”

She stopped, then swung toward him. “What? The Pyro?”

He nodded, grimly. “Now you see why Samantha wants us over there? We’re looking at two high-profile criminals...two men who appear to have been targeted by the same individual.”

“What is the perp doing?” Macey whispered as her brow furrowed. “It’s almost like he’s...”

“Taking out the predators. Hunting them...”

Her gaze met his.

“Just like we are,” Bowen finished.

* * *

“YOU’VE...GOT...THE wrong man...” Patrick Remus gritted out. He hurt—he fucking hurt. The bastard holding him had doused his legs with gasoline and then lit them on fire. Then the SOB had stood back and just watched while he burned. While the flames ate at Patrick’s pants and his legs.

Then, when Patrick had been screaming, the guy had lifted a fire extinguisher and sprayed at the flames.

“You’re the right man, Remus. I know. The FBI has been searching for you a very long time.”

Patrick’s breath heaved out. “No...no... I—I didn’t do that shit. None of it. Wasn’t m-me...”

The wooden floor creaked as his attacker began to stalk around him. The guy had a mask over his face—a black ski mask—so Patrick couldn’t tell anything about him.

“Of course, it was you. Your prints were found at two of your arson scenes. In Orlando, Florida, where you killed that father of two. In Atlanta, Georgia, at the home of the elderly grandmother you sent to a fiery grave.”

His teeth clenched. “I’m...a different man. I was sick back then. I’m better now! I haven’t burned...anything...” Like this bastard would know the truth.

The floor creaked again. “You think that stopping absolves you of your crimes?”

His legs hurt. “I need a doctor.”

His attacker laughed. “Too bad, he’s dead. I finished him first.”

What?

“I’ve been watching you... I do know that you’ve still been starting your fires.”

Fuck.

“And I don’t like it when people try to lie to me.”

Patrick yanked at the ropes around his wrists. That jerk had tied his arms behind him, securing him to the wooden chair. This shit couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. He’d been living a normal life in Alabama, even had a girl he was thinking about marrying. She’d won this fucking trip up to Gatlinburg, and they’d come together—“Lydia,” he whispered. “What did you do to Lydia?” Because this bastard before him had taken Patrick right out of his cabin.

The guy laughed. Patrick jerked against the ropes. His legs burned.

“She doesn’t know about you, does she? Poor Lydia...she thought she’d found her prince charming.”

“If you’ve hurt her...”

More laughter. “What? You’ll burn me?”

And he heard the slosh of a liquid. He couldn’t see the other guy, but he knew the man had picked up the gasoline again. “The only one who will get burned,” he told Patrick. “That’s you...”

CHAPTER FOUR

“PLEASE, PLEASE, I need help!” The woman with the long black hair was ringing her hands as she stood in front of the check-in desk at the Gatlinburg police station. “My boyfriend is missing!”

Macey slanted a quick glance her way. She and Bowen had arrived at the station moments before—to a scene of pretty much chaos. The police captain had greeted them at the door. Captain Henry Harwell was young, probably in his late twenties, with close-cropped brown hair. He wore a pair of glasses and his gun was holstered at his side.

Right then, he motioned toward another uniformed officer and pointed to the woman. “Help her, now.”

The officer bustled to the woman’s side.

“We searched the cabin,” Captain Harwell said as he began to lead Macey and Bowen back into the station. “Your Special Agent Dark helped coordinate with our team here and we went to the location that the FBI had pinpointed, but no one was there. I don’t know if this is just some damn trick or what is happening—”

“No!” It was the woman’s voice, rising over the din in the station. “You’re not listening to me! I think someone took him! He’s not just off drunk somewhere or lost in your damn mountains! He needs help!”

Macey paused and glanced back at her.

“The cabin had been swept clean,” Harwell continued. “I had my men check and double-check the place, but there wasn’t any sign of anyone. It was a rental, one that had been taken off rotation while some repairs were being made. No one should have been there...” He exhaled. “And sure as shit not some serial arsonist! Damn it, do you know what will happen if word gets out that Patrick Remus is in this town? Do you know how many tourists come here?”

Macey found herself sliding away from the captain and from Bowen. There was something about that woman at the counter. Her certainty that her boyfriend wasn’t just lost or drinking it off...that he’d been taken.

Macey touched her shoulder. “Miss?”

The woman swung toward her. Mascara smudges darkened her eyes.

“Why do you think your boyfriend was taken?”

“Because Patrick wouldn’t just leave me!”

Macey tensed. “Patrick?”

“Patrick Grace.” Now the woman turned to grab Macey’s shoulder. “He was there last night, I swear, he was asleep in that bed next to me. But...but when I woke up, he was gone. The front door was wide-open. Our car was still there. But he wasn’t.” A tear slid down her cheek. “He left his phone, his wallet. Everything. I know something happened to him.”

“Do you happen to have a picture of Patrick?” The name was too much of a coincidence to ignore. When individuals went into the Witness Protection Program, they often tried to keep their new first names as similar as possible to their real ones—it helped them to transition.

And Patrick Remus—the serial arsonist who’d been hiding from the FBI for over two years—must have adopted a new identity while he’d been in hiding. Perhaps that new identity involved a new last name—

“Here he is.” The woman pushed her phone toward Macey. “See him? What will you do now? Get an APB out for him? Put his face on all the news channels?”

Macey stared at the photo before her. On the way there, she’d pulled up Patrick’s old case file and photos on her tablet. The man she was looking at right then had shaved his head and put on about twenty pounds...but she was staring at a face she knew.

Patrick Remus.

“Macey?” Bowen strode toward her. “We need to go back with the sheriff—”

“No.” She took the phone from the woman. “We need to put this man’s face on every news outlet in the area.”

Patrick’s girlfriend gave a quick sob.

“Because he’s been taken,” Macey continued. “And we need to find him.”

Macey turned the phone so that Bowen could see the screen. “Meet Patrick Grace.”

Bowen swore.

“He disappeared from his cabin last night.”

His gaze met Macey’s and Bowen nodded.

* * *

“SHE HAS NO clue who her lover really is,” Macey said as she stared through the one-way mirror at Lydia Chasing. Lydia was in the interrogation room at the police station, a mug of coffee cradled in her hand. Captain Harwell had just finished interviewing her, and Lydia...she seemed on the verge of collapse.

“The perp we’re after...you really think he snuck into her cabin and took Patrick without her knowing?” Bowen’s arm brushed against Macey’s.

“I think he could have done that.” She’d been considering the matter. “He attacked Daniel Haddox first.” She turned to stare up at Bowen. “You saw Daniel’s place—there were plenty of drugs there.” Syringes, medicines...things Daniel shouldn’t have been able to access, but he had. He’d made his own office in the middle of nowhere. He’d probably catered to low-income families, promising them treatment but...had he just taken more victims? Were there more victims out there waiting to be found? “Maybe our killer helped himself to supplies while he was at Daniel’s. Then all he would have needed to do was sneak into Lydia’s cabin, inject her while she was asleep, and he would have been sure she didn’t wake up and...interrupt his work.”

Bowen raked a hand over his face. “And if he didn’t want Patrick fighting back against him, then he probably drugged that guy, too.”

“It’s always easier to transport prey that doesn’t fight back.”

His gaze jerked up to hers.

“We should get blood work done on Lydia. See if anything turns up.”

“Macey...”

“It’s good that he didn’t hurt her,” she continued quickly. “I mean, it’s showing us that he’s focused on specific victims. If he’d wanted Lydia dead, she never would have woken up.” She drew in a deep breath. “This goes along with him being so organized. He knew exactly who he wanted, and he took that prey.”

“What are the fucking odds?” Bowen muttered. “The Doctor. The Pyro. Both so close together...”

“The odds are against that.” She wet her lips. “So I think we have to assume that our perp set this up.”

Now Bowen’s eyes narrowed. “When the captain was interviewing Lydia, she said she’d won this cabin vacation.”

“And that’s something else we need to investigate because my money—” Macey gave a sad shake of her head “—is on the fact that the killer brought Patrick up here. He lured him here because he wanted to kill him. He wanted him close enough that he could bring him into the plan, the trap that was waiting.”

“First Daniel Haddox, then Patrick Remus.” Bowen blew out a slow breath. “Who is going to be next? And how is this guy finding these serials?”

He’s a step ahead of us. More than a step. “He won’t move onto the next one, not until he’s finished with Patrick.”

A knock sounded at the door. It opened a moment later to reveal Captain Harwell. “Local news is here. They’re going to be running the pics of Patrick.” His jaw hardened. “You two going to tell that woman in there the truth about her boyfriend before the press conference?”

Yes, they were. Because Macey didn’t want Lydia finding out when she turned on a TV. Macey nodded, once, and relief flashed across the captain’s face. She knew he was relieved he wasn’t going to be the one who had to shatter that woman’s world.

The FBI has a lead because of Patrick’s real identity. The serials go to us... And they were going to be the ones to reveal the truth to Lydia. The captain exited and Macey squared her shoulders. She took a step toward the door—

Bowen moved into her path and she couldn’t help but tense.

But he didn’t say anything personal, didn’t bring up the night before, and she tried to act as if she couldn’t still feel him on her skin.

“She’s not going to believe you, not at first.” His voice was quiet. “People never want to believe that they’ve chosen the wrong lover.”

She eased out a slow breath and forced herself to hold his stare. I knew exactly who I was choosing when I went to you last night. “I have pictures. We’ll make her believe us.”

His jaw hardened. “Lydia told the captain she’d been living with Patrick for over a year. A year, spent with a cold-blooded killer. And she never had a clue.”

“I think some people are very, very good at hiding their true selves.”

His lashes lowered over his eyes. “Yes.” That was all, just that one word. Something about his tone nagged at her, but Bowen had already turned away and exited the room. She followed him out, hurrying her steps, and soon they were walking into the interrogation room. As soon as they entered, Lydia looked up, hope on her face.

That hope is about to turn to horror.

“Lydia,” Macey began, trying to keep her tone kind. “I didn’t get to properly introduce myself earlier. My name is FBI Special Agent Macey Night.” She pointed to Bowen. “And this is my partner, Bowen Murphy.”

Lydia frowned at them.

“We were brought to Gatlinburg because we were actually looking for a man named Patrick Remus.” Macey set her manila file on the table and pulled out the first photo to show Lydia. “This man.”

Lydia stared at the picture and a furrow appeared between her brows. “That’s my Pat. Patrick Grace.” She pushed the photo back toward Macey as she gave a nervous laugh. “Him with a whole lot more hair.” She shook her head. “But you’ve got his last name wrong. Get that right before the reporters go live—”

Macey pushed the photo back toward her. And this time, she pulled out another photo, a crime scene photograph that showed the remains of Patrick’s first victim.

“What in the hell?” Lydia shot to her feet. The chair slammed to the floor behind her. “Why are you showing me that? Are you crazy?”

“That is a photo of Patrick Remus’s first victim, a thirty-nine-year-old father of two named Kent Powell.” She tapped the photo of Patrick once more. “And this man...this man is Patrick Remus.”

Lydia shook her head, frantically. “No, no, you’re wrong. You have the wrong man—”

“Patrick Remus is a serial arsonist,” Bowen said, his voice quiet and calm. Unrelenting. “He’s wanted in connection with the murders of five people.”

All of the color bled from Lydia’s face. “That’s...that’s Patrick Remus. Not my Pat. Not my—”

“They’re the same man,” Macey interrupted. “And we have reason to believe...” She swallowed. “We believe someone found out who your Patrick really is...and that individual has taken him.”

Lydia scrambled back. “He took the wrong man!”

No, he took the right one.

“You needed to know the truth,” Macey continued. “Before the reporters arrived.”

A tear leaked down Lydia’s cheek. “Not my Pat...”

Macey stared at her and she saw the horror that began to grow in Lydia’s gaze.

* * *

BOWEN GAZED AT the dark cabin. Sunset had come fast in the Smoky Mountains, and the night had chased its way across the sky. He’d spent the afternoon and evening searching for Patrick Remus—and for the man who’d taken the infamous Pyro.

Lydia had told them her story, again and again. She’d gotten a notice in the mail that she’d won a cabin in Gatlinburg. A three-day getaway. She hadn’t remembered entering the contest, but she’d been too excited to question the win.

Bowen had figured that if the killer had lured Patrick and Lydia to the mountains with the cabin that had been taken off rental rotation, then perhaps he’d been using another, similar cabin as base. A cabin that was off the beaten path, a place that would give him privacy... Another cabin that was empty because it was part of the rental program, but perhaps a place that had also been removed from potential listings because repair work needed to be done on it, too.

Using that criteria, Bowen had hoped to compile a small list of possible locations.

But this was Gatlinburg...and there were dozens of rental agencies in the area. The simple search had turned up results that had taken hours to evaluate. He’d divided up the local law enforcement team and sent them out while he and Macey also searched. So far, they’d all turned up nothing.

“It doesn’t look as if anyone has been here lately,” Macey said, her quiet voice breaking into his thoughts. They were right beside their rented SUV, and she’d already pulled out her weapon as she stared at the little cabin. Nestled at the very top of a mountain, they’d spent twenty minutes going up the twisting, winding roads that led to this place.

No other vehicle was parked near the cabin. All of the lights were out. Macey was right, the place did look empty.

Just as the others had.

But they were still going to search it. He took a few steps toward the cabin, and the wind seemed to shift as he felt the breeze stir against his cheek and then—

“Gasoline,” Bowen rasped. He could smell it. His eyes strained to see in the darkness. The cabin didn’t appear damaged in any way, but he could sure as hell smell that gasoline odor. His nostrils flared as battle-ready tension swept through him.

An empty cabin shouldn’t smell like gasoline.

He motioned to Macey, indicating that they’d be heading toward the front door. She moved quickly with him, their steps silent as they approached. And when they drew closer, he was able to tell that the front door was ajar, just a bit. Barely an inch.

This is the place. Bowen flashed another quick signal to Macey. He’d go in first, and he knew she’d cover him. Bowen pulled the flashlight from his pocket even as he silently counted down. Three, two, one...

He went in fast, crouching low. He kept the flashlight above his gun as he swept the room, sending out the light to check the corners and the darkness, and he heard the faint rustle of Macey’s footsteps behind him. The scent of gasoline was even stronger inside the cabin. He glanced down and saw that the floors were...

“Wet,” Macey whispered.

Not from water, though, not based on that smell. Someone had soaked the place with gasoline.

Fuck. That was Patrick’s MO. He’d always poured gasoline all over the places where he kept his victims. On the floor, on the walls, on the furniture.

“Stay alert, Mace,” he rasped. She wouldn’t need the warning, of course, but, shit, he had to give it. This scene had nightmare written all over it. Bowen followed that trail, snaking down the narrow hallway and then turning right into a room at the back—

His light swept inside and fell on the slouched figure of the man in the chair. The guy’s head hung forward and Bowen could easily see the blood that dripped from his wounds. “Patrick,” Bowen said even as he rushed forward. His hand immediately went to the man’s throat.

Blood. Blood every-freaking-where. They’d arrived too late. Patrick was dead.

A rough exhalation escaped from Bowen as he stared at the man’s body. Jesus Christ. Burns covered him. His skin—what remained on his arms—was red and raw with oozing blisters. Blood had spilled down his shirt because the bastard’s throat had been cut. And the wounds in his head...

Bowen’s light slid over them. Patrick’s head was shaved, just like in Lydia’s picture, but there were two distinct wounds on his forehead. At first, Bowen thought those might be bullet wounds.

“Nails,” Macey said, and there was horror in her voice. “Just like with Daniel.”

Damn it. The press didn’t know about the nails. Their team had been careful not to leak that information. And for this guy to use them on Patrick Remus...

Same perp. We are absolutely looking at the same man who took out Daniel Haddox.

Shit, shit. It was—

Whoosh. He heard the sound and his blood iced. That whoosh of air was low and long and the very cabin itself seemed to tremble around them. He looked down at that stain of wet gasoline on the floor. It was a trail that led right to the dead man.

Patrick’s body was fucking soaked in gasoline. Dripping with it.

So when he heard that whoosh, Bowen didn’t stop to think. He just reacted. He grabbed Macey’s hand and he yanked her with him as they ran toward the window in the back of the room.

The fire was coming. The perp who’d killed Patrick? He’d set a trap for Bowen and Macey. He was burning the cabin down, sending the flames running through the whole place.

He was going to bury his victims in the flames—just like Patrick had done. His victims... Patrick. Macey. Me.

This SOB wants to take out FBI agents.

The window wouldn’t open. The damn thing had been nailed shut.

Organized killer. Planning, always two steps ahead...

Since the window wouldn’t open, Bowen just broke the glass. It shot outward as he used his gun to knock out more chunks. He could feel the flames heating the air, and Bowen was afraid the whole cabin would go down at any moment. Get Macey out. Get her to safety. Take care of Macey first.

He pushed her toward the window. “Go!” Smoke was already thick in the room. The flames—Shit, they are everywhere!

She coughed as she jumped through the window. He started to follow her, but Bowen glanced back.

The flames were destroying Patrick Remus.

“Bowen!” Macey shouted.

And those flames were coming for him.

He followed Macey through the broken window. There had been too much gasoline in that cabin. Too much. They ran together, rushing toward their vehicle, racing away from the scene—

The explosion seemed to rock the whole mountain. The blast’s impact came flying at Bowen. The force of it sent him surging into the air. He grabbed for Macey, trying to hold her tight and shield her. They hadn’t moved fast enough. They hadn’t gotten away in time.

I’m sorry, Macey.

Then he slammed into the ground.

* * *

HE COULD ALMOST understand why Patrick Remus had used fire. The flames were quite beautiful. And very, very powerful.

From the woods, he watched as the cabin exploded. The windows blew out, sending glass shards everywhere. Chunks of the roof flew into the sky. Burning wood littered the ground. And those flames just kept raging, destroying everything in sight.

The FBI agents had arrived and they’d done exactly what he wanted. They’d gone into the cabin. They’d stepped right into his trap.

And he’d sent the fire after them. Fire to consume Patrick. Fire to teach the agents a lesson.

No one is above my justice. The agents thought they were so good at hunting killers. Knowing them, from the inside out.

They knew nothing. He was the one with the answers. He was the one who could see the killers. And now, thanks to the work he’d done, everyone would be seeing him.

He backed away, knowing that he couldn’t linger. The agents had gotten out. He’d watched their frantic race to safety. Their escape hadn’t upset him. After all, it was what he’d wanted. He hadn’t intended for them to die in that cabin, but he had wanted to teach them a lesson. Maybe they’d have a few scars to help them remember this night.

The night I proved I was better than you.

If he’d wanted them to die, he would have boarded up that back window. Covered all the glass. Covered the windows for every room in that cabin. Instead, he’d just nailed them shut. He’d given them a challenge. Not death.

He was smiling as he backed away.

The flames kept shooting into the sky. He knew those flames would attract attention, and it was the attention he deserved. His time to shine. His.

He’d taken out two of the FBI’s most wanted. The world owed him a debt of thanks. He’d collect on it. On that, and everything else that he was owed.

It was finally his time to shine.

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