The Killer Instinct series from New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Eden continues as an FBI profiler tracks a case that resurrects ghosts from his past

Ex-SEAL Tucker Frost knows that the world is full of evil. He saw it in the face of his own brother, Jason Frost, a cold, methodical, sadistic killer. A killer Tucker put down with his own hands in order to save Jason’s final victim—Dawn Alexander, the only girl who got away from the infamous “Iceman.”

It’s Tucker’s up close and personal experience with evil that’s made him perfect for Samantha Dark’s experimental profiling division in the FBI. And when women start turning up murdered with the same MO used by the Iceman, Tucker is sent back to Louisiana to investigate.

Ten full years have passed since the night that Tucker faced down his brother...and since he last saw Dawn, his one-time lover. But as Tucker and Dawn grapple with a desire that never died, they must also face the shared shadow from their pasts. Both have the same question—has Jason Frost come back from the dead to hunt again? And this time, will he succeed in killing the victim who got away?

Praise for New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Eden

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

—Publishers Weekly on After the Dark

“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

“Cynthia Eden’s Broken is what romantic suspense is supposed to be—fast, furious, and very sexy! In the LOST Agency, Eden has created a complex cast of characters that readers will love—leaving them eagerly anticipating the next team member’s story.’’

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Karen Rose

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

—New York Times bestselling author Laura Kaye

“Fast-paced, smart, sexy and emotionally wrenching—everything I love about a Cynthia Eden book!”

—Award-winning author HelenKay Dimon

Before the Dawn

Cynthia Eden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I fell in love with romance novels when I was thirteen years old. I’ve been addicted ever since. So this book—this story is for the other romance addicts out there. For the people who love their happy endings, who love the suspense and the adrenaline...for the ones who just love their books.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“I’M GOING TO teach you to like pain.”

Dawn Alexander felt the tears trailing down her cheeks. She could only stare at the man who stood above her, a man with a face that was so heartbreakingly familiar, and shake her head.

Her hands were tied behind her back. The rough hemp rope bit into her wrists. She’d strained to break free for hours, and the rope had sliced into her wrists as she struggled. Each ankle was bound to a chair leg.

And Dawn was in hell.

He smiled at her. A smile that was wide and charming. A smile that flashed the dimple in his left cheek. “Right now, you don’t understand how good the pain will be. You still cry out when I hurt you.”

He’d hurt her plenty. The nightmare wouldn’t stop.

He lifted the bloody knife and pressed the tip to her cheek. “But soon the real fun will begin. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for the knife to slice you deeper.”

He means I’ll be begging for death.

“Please,” Dawn pleaded then as she had for hours. But he hadn’t listened to her. The man she’d thought was her friend had turned into a monster before her eyes. “Just let me go.”

His bright blue eyes hardened as he stared down at her. “You came into my life, Dawn. You came to me. You tried to come between me and the one person who matters most.”

Her breath sawed out of her lungs. They were in a small cabin, far away from the busy streets of Baton Rouge. The man before her—she knew him. She’d known him for years. Jason. Jason Frost. Everyone in the area knew him. Tall, handsome, smart and strong... Jason had been the star athlete on the football team. The guy most likely to succeed. Sure, there were plenty of stories that had swirled about his family—or rather, his father—but Jason, with his perfect looks and easy charm, had been the one all the girls loved.

But not me. I didn’t love him.

Because she’d lost her heart to his younger brother. She’d fallen fast and hard for Tucker Frost the first time they’d met.

She’d been thirteen. He’d been sixteen. She’d been so taken by him that no other boy had ever been able to compare. But when he’d turned eighteen, Tucker had left her. He’d joined the Navy, gone far away. She’d heard people say that he’d become a SEAL.

And he’d just...vanished.

Until a few weeks ago. Until he’d come back and she’d turned around and found him standing in the library at Louisiana State University. He’d been looking for her. And she’d been lost.

“Does Tucker know what you’re doing?” The broken whisper came from her. That had been her darkest fear as the hours had slipped by and her pain had continued.

Jason had picked her up from her dorm room. He’d said that Tucker wanted him to give her a lift out to their place. She’d gone so easily, so happily, never hesitating. Only he hadn’t driven her to their home. He’d taken her away from the city, to the edge of the Mississippi River. To this little cabin.

The first time he’d hit her, she’d been stunned. Too stunned to move. The second time, he’d hit her so hard she couldn’t move.

Jason tilted his dark head down, seeming to give her question deep thought.

Her heart pounded frantically in her chest. “Tucker won’t like this,” she said, desperate. “You’d better let me go. You don’t want Tucker angry—”

His head lifted. His eyes—eyes the exact same shade as Tucker’s—met hers. And he smiled again. Tucker’s smile. Oh, God. “Of course he knows. Why do you think he came to see you when he arrived back in town? You’ve been on our list for quite a while.”

Her heart stopped. Dawn shook her head. No. Anger was there, beating just below the terrible fear. Tucker wouldn’t do this.

Not Tucker.

He’d...he’d seemed to care about her. They’d always been close, secretly so before he left for the Navy. Nothing romantic or sexual, just...friends. They’d been friends when they were kids. He’d walk her home. He’d make sure she had all her books.

But when he’d come back recently, when he’d come back as a man and found her at LSU, they’d stopped being just friends. They’d become so much more. He’d become everything to her.

Not Tucker.

The knife lifted and her breath came a little easier.

Then the blade sank into her shoulder, going deep, and he twisted the hilt. Dawn choked out a scream.

He laughed at her. “Surely you’ve read the stories in the paper? I mean, the press seems to be giving our kills a great deal of attention.”

Our kills?

“They even gave me a name.” He pulled out the blade and gazed at the blood on the weapon. “The Iceman.” He nodded once, as if satisfied with that name. “But they are so clueless. They don’t know why I freeze the bodies. They don’t get it at all.”

OhGodOhGodOhGod. Yes, she’d heard the stories about the Iceman in the paper. The guy who’d been abducting women for the last few years. The man who froze their bodies and...kept them. Kept them so very long before he would call the cops, tipping them off to the locations. And those poor women would be found, so perfectly preserved, in freezers.

She looked up at Jason. His thick, dark hair. His perfect features. His gleaming eyes. That dimple. Dawn could only shake her head.

“The press should have realized it wasn’t just one man committing the crimes,” he said. “I mean, really, it’s more like Icemen than Iceman.”

“Not Tucker.” Her breath heaved out. “You’re lying!”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?” That bloody knife came back to her cheek. She knew he was going to cut her face. Dawn tried to brace herself for that pain. “Because you think you know him? Because he fucked you?”

She felt her face flame. Yes, he had. And Tucker had been her first. Her only. She loved him. She trusted him. She—

Jason laughed. Hard, deep laughter. “You are so clueless. Blood comes before anything else. Tuck has my back. He always has. He’ll be here soon, and he’ll prove the truth to you.”

The tip of the knife pressed into her cheek, a shallow cut, taunting her.

“And you’ll see the truth for yourself.”

He turned away from her.

Dawn twisted her bleeding wrists behind her, struggling as hard as she could against the rope. Terror clawed at her insides as the stories of the Iceman’s kills ran through her mind. All the victims had been young women—pretty, single. When their bodies had finally been recovered, they had been covered in slices. Stabbed again and again. Tortured. Then frozen in time...as if...as if the killer wanted to savor them.

I won’t be another victim.

“They’re alive when I put them in the freezer.”

For an instant, her struggles ceased. Stunned, she could only stare at his broad back.

“I make sure of it,” he added. “The cops haven’t released that part to the media, but I always put them in the freezers when they’re still breathing. I like for them to feel the cold sliding over them. I know it makes them long for the pain again.” He looked back over his shoulder at her, and his profile... It is so like Tucker’s. “I told you, before I’m done, you’ll grow to like the pain.”

No.

She yanked hard at the ropes and Dawn thought she felt them give...just a bit.

She also heard the growl of a car’s engine outside the cabin.

His smile stretched. “Right on time. I’ll go greet Tuck, then the real fun can get started.”

She opened her mouth, ready to scream. She’d done that before, screamed endlessly, but he’d just laughed and said that no one was around to hear her.

This time, though, he leaped forward and slapped his hand over her mouth.

Anger hardened his face. “I’ll be the one to talk with Tuck first.” Then he slapped a gag on her in mere moments. He shoved it into her mouth, bloodying her lips even more, and then tied it behind her head. He stood in front of her as that growling engine came closer, and he leaned down, until they were eye to eye. “We are going to have so much fun with you.”

He kissed her, putting his mouth right over the gag.

“I’ll fuck you, too,” he promised.

The tears fell again, but he’d already turned away. He rushed toward the cabin’s door. Toward Tucker. And she kept yanking on the ropes that bound her wrists. He’d been so busy with the gag that he hadn’t even checked to see if she was still securely tied.

The joke is on you, bastard. I’m not. The rope around her left wrist broke free.

* * *

TUCKER FROST PARKED his car and jumped out of the vehicle. A thousand stars glittered overhead as he approached the old cabin, a place that he damn well hated.

Jason should hate the place, too. He had no idea why his brother wanted to meet him there. The cabin held only bad memories. Memories Tucker wished that he could forget. He’d gone halfway around the world in an effort to banish that hell from his mind.

Insects chirped all around him. Frogs croaked, and down near the water he could hear the deep growl of a gator. Swamps weren’t quiet—most folks had that wrong. Swamps were loud and busy, all the time. Especially at night.

And he hated this one swamp in particular. It was too full of dark secrets.

“About time you got here!”

His gaze lifted at his brother’s voice, and he saw Jason bound out of the cabin. “I’ve been waiting over an hour for you to show up.”

Tucker rolled back his shoulders. “I stopped by Dawn’s dorm. I needed to talk to her.” Because he’d gotten orders to ship out. A new mission. He wouldn’t be back for a few months and he’d wanted to tell her the news face-to-face. Hell, he hated the idea of leaving her. Little Dawn Alexander. Who would have thought that she’d come to mean so much to him, so fast? He cleared his throat. “But she wasn’t there.”

Jason glanced back toward the cabin. “You don’t say...”

Tucker yanked a hand through his hair. He and his brother stood at a similar height, and their bodies were built along the same rough and ready lines. “Why did you want me to come out here?” Before his brother could answer, Tucker gave a bitter laugh. “Unless we’re out here to torch this place, I don’t really want—”

“We’re not torching it.” Anger crackled in Jason’s voice, surprising him. “I don’t like fire.”

Tucker’s brows flew up. “And I don’t like this place.” Too many bad memories. “You shouldn’t, either.” Not after the hell that had happened to them there.

Jason rocked back on his heels. “Family comes first.”

That was a phrase that seemed to echo in Tucker’s mind. It was a phrase his father had used too many times.

Jason cocked his head and studied Tucker. “You believe that, don’t you?”

He didn’t speak. Tension snaked up his spine. This scene was wrong. “Why are we out here?”

Jason glanced back toward the cabin. “I fixed it up while you were out saving the world. Looks good, doesn’t it?”

It would never look good to Tucker. We should have destroyed it long ago.

“When you came back, I knew things would be different.” Jason focused on him once again. “I have a surprise for you.” He nodded once. “Inside the cabin.”

The tension Tucker felt grew even worse. “I don’t like surprises.”

But his brother just laughed. “You’ll like this one.” Then he came forward and slung his arm around Tucker’s shoulders. Tucker forced himself to relax. This was Jason, the guy who’d always had his back. The guy had been looking out for Tucker his whole life. When he’d been a kid, Jason had made sure no bullies were ever dumb enough to tease Tucker about his worn clothes or the fact that his lunch box was empty most days. Jason had always been there to take care of him.

He’s my blood. The only blood that matters.

Tucker blew out a long breath. If Jason wanted him to go into the cabin, then he would. Hell, he’d do just about anything for his older brother. With Jason’s arm still slung around his shoulders, they headed up the rickety stairs and toward the door. Jason was talking and laughing, and the guy seemed happier than Tucker had seen him in years.

Jason opened the door with a flourish. “After you, bro.”

Tucker headed inside. The old floorboards creaked beneath his feet, the way they’d done years ago. But the place didn’t reek of the stale scent of old beer. Instead...

What is that scent?

“Open the door on the right.” Jason’s voice had hitched up. “Your surprise is in there.”

Okay, he’d play along. For the moment. Then he needed to tell Jason about his new orders. His brother wasn’t going to like that he had to leave again. Jason hadn’t understood when Tucker had enlisted. But Jason didn’t get it. If Tucker didn’t let the dark energy swirling inside him have an outlet, then trouble would come.

Tucker grabbed for the doorknob. He pushed it open and—

Terror.

For an instant, Tucker just stood there. He stared into Dawn’s beautiful green eyes—eyes that were glassy with terror. Blood and tears trickled down her cheeks and she was yanking at the rope around her left ankle. Her shirt was covered in blood. Her body marked by bruises.

And she looked at him as if he were the devil himself.

Tucker shook his head. No, this was wrong. This was wrong. “Dawn?”

Jason slapped his hand down on Tucker’s shoulder. “Surprise! Had her waiting for you.”

A gag was in Dawn’s mouth. A purple bruise along her delicate jaw.

Tucker whirled on his brother, knocking that hand aside. “You did this to her?” A dull ringing was in his ears and rage burned in his veins. “You hurt her?”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Easy, bro.” The words were low and warning. “You know you have to watch that temper of yours. Control, right? It’s key?” But his lips were curving. “You lose it and you become just like our old man.”

Screw that. Tucker shoved his brother back, hard, slamming him against the wooden wall then pinning him there. “What the hell did you do?”

Jason’s mouth opened to respond, but then Dawn was rushing right past them. She’d leaped out of her chair and run for the door.

“Shit!” Jason bellowed. “Stop her! We have to stop her!”

Was his brother insane? The guy lunged up, but Tucker slammed him back against the wall. “What did you do?”

Jason head-butted him. The blow was fast and brutal and Tucker staggered back for a moment, and that moment was all that his brother needed. Jason shot toward the door, chasing after Dawn.

Stunned, Tucker glanced around the cabin. There was blood on the floor. Dawn’s blood. And she’d stared at him with such absolute terror on her face. No, no, it couldn’t be happening. Not again.

Not the fuck again.

Locking his teeth, he raced outside. His gaze flew to the left, to the right. He saw Jason, running toward the car that Tucker had just driven up in. Dawn was yanking at the driver’s-side door. Frantically, she clawed at the door handle, obviously desperate to get inside.

But I have the keys.

“Dawn!” Tucker yelled her name.

Her head whipped toward him. Then Jason was on her. His brother grabbed her head and slammed it against the car. Dawn sagged instantly and a fury unlike anything Tucker had ever known filled his whole body. He heard a roar and didn’t even realize that guttural cry had come from him, but in the next instant, he was on his brother. He ripped Jason away from Dawn. “Not her!” Carefully, he lowered her to the ground. His hand went to her forehead and he felt the blood on his fingers—

“Hell, yes,” Jason snarled. “Her.” Then he drove both of his fists into Tucker’s back. Tucker fell down, nearly landing on top of Dawn, but he managed to turn his body at the last moment. He came up again, swinging this time. A hard cut at his brother because the guy never had been able to take a left hook. Jason stumbled back at the hit, and Tucker went at him again. Punching. Kicking. Using every bit of knowledge he’d learned in the hellholes on earth. SEALs could fight dirty and he sure as hell did. In moments, Jason was beneath him on that ground, his face a bloody mess, barely able to lift up his hands and stop Tucker’s blows.

“She’s...going to die...”

Tucker froze with his hands still fisted.

Jason spat blood as he said, “She’s...running to the...river...”

He hadn’t even heard her flee. Tucker’s head whipped around, and sure enough, he saw that Dawn had fled. Only she wasn’t rushing down the old dirt road that led away from the property. She was running to the rotted dock that waited yards away. A dock that stretched out over the mighty Mississippi.

“Dawn!” Tucker yelled her name as he leaped to his feet. He left his brother there because Dawn was the priority. She mattered. “Dawn, wait!”

She cast a terrified glance over her shoulder and in that moment, with the stars glittering down and showing him her face, he realized...she’s afraid of me.

But...he was trying to help her.

“Dawn?” He ran toward her.

She backed to the edge of the dock. She was right over the water, just standing there. Too close because...

Dawn didn’t know how to swim. She’d told him that less than a week ago. A hushed, embarrassed confession. When she’d been six, she’d fallen into her aunt’s pool and nearly drowned. After that, she’d been terrified of the water. At her quiet confession, he’d felt protective. He always felt protective where she was concerned. He’d promised to teach her how to swim. Promised to make her whole life safe, always.

And now this is happening.

He’d told his brother that Dawn couldn’t swim. He’d told Jason how afraid she’d been and how Tucker had wanted to erase that fear.

“Don’t go into the water!” He lifted his hand toward her and realized that his knuckles were bloody from punching Jason. “Dawn, please...stop.”

She lifted her hands, as if she’d ward him off. “Don’t hurt me.” Her voice was a weak rasp and it utterly broke his heart. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how completely truly she owned his heart.

But when he felt it shatter, he knew.

“I wouldn’t.” He took another step toward her. The dock swayed beneath his feet. “Not ever.”

She shook her head.

She doesn’t believe me. He could see it. He risked a glance over his shoulder but saw that Jason was still sprawled on the ground. Quickly, he turned his attention back to her. “I don’t know what’s happening here.”

Her laughter was bitter, terrified, and it hurt him. “Your brother...is going to kill me.”

No. It wouldn’t happen.

Tucker took another step toward her. “We’re going to get in my car and we’re going to get the hell out of here.” He kept his palm open to her. He needed her to trust him. To take his hand. “Come on, baby. I swear, I won’t let him hurt you.” I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.

She was shaking, but...

“He said you were...coming to kill me.”

Tucker shook his head. “No.”

“Did you...kill the others?”

What others? Nausea rose in his stomach. Wasn’t this what he’d feared? Oh, shit. Shit. He should have stopped this. Should have paid more attention to his brother.

He’s too much like our father.

That was the problem. They were both too much like dear old dad.

She put her hand to her shoulder, to the wound that was still bleeding. She was covered in blood, they were near the edge of the water, and he knew there were plenty of gators out there. He could hear their cries. “Let’s get out of here.” He took another step toward her. He was just going to have to grab her and pull her to his car. He wanted her away from that death-soaked place. Right the hell then—

He lunged for her. But Dawn jumped back and fell into the water. She sank like a stone and his heart stopped. In the next second, he was diving off that dock after her. No way was he going to lose Dawn. Not her. Not her. The words were a mantra in his head. He swam until he touched her, until his hand wrapped around her body, and then he kicked them up to the surface. He felt something brush against his body but he didn’t stop. The gators were there, he knew the blood and thrashing would just be drawing them in closer, and Tucker knew that he was getting Dawn out of that water.

He pushed her toward the dock and helped to heave her body up onto the old wood. Water streamed down her body as she crawled across the rotting dock, and Tucker hauled himself right up after her. He reached for Dawn.

Jason’s laughter froze him.

“That was impressive,” his brother said. “Very hero-like, the way you dived in after her.”

Tucker was on his knees. Dawn was about two feet away from him, and Jason...he had a gun pressed to her head.

“This isn’t how I planned things.” Jason’s left hand swiped at the blood that fell from his busted lip while his right held that gun against her temple. “But it can still work.”

Tucker didn’t look at Dawn’s face right then. He couldn’t.

“You knew it would happen,” Jason said. “Only a matter of time, for us both. The urge was always there. The violence—it’s a rush, isn’t it?”

His hands fisted at his sides. “Let her go.”

“You won’t believe what I’ve learned. I want to show it to you. Share it with you. But this one...” He jabbed the gun into Dawn’s temple. Dawn didn’t make a sound. “She’s messing things up. You think I didn’t see it? Even years ago, you watched her too much. But you didn’t touch her. Hands off, right, bro? You broke that rule this time, and everything changed.” His shoulders slumped. “So maybe it’s your fault this is happening to her.”

“Jason...”

“It’s your fault she’s dying.”

Tucker reached his right hand beneath the leg of his wet jeans. He grabbed for the knife he kept there, but he made sure not to let his brother see the weapon.

“She has to die. I mean, if I let her go...she’ll run to the cops. She’ll tell them what happened. They’ll lock me up. You don’t want that to happen, do you?” Jason demanded, a desperate edge creeping into the words. “You don’t want me in a cell? A cage?” His voice roughened even more. “We’ve both been in a cage before. We swore neither of us would go back.”

Yes, they had sworn that.

“Choose.” Jason stared straight at him, his eyes glittering. “Choose right now and let her know it. Tell her the truth that we’ve always both known. Blood is thicker than anything else. Blood binds.”

Tucker rose to his feet, making sure to keep the knife behind him and out of his brother’s sight. “Blood comes first.” Those were the words their father had battered into their minds.

Jason nodded and he lifted the gun away from Dawn’s head.

“Tucker?” she rasped his name. “Please, don’t...”

“You do the honors,” Jason said. He offered the gun to Tucker. The guy was smiling at him, as if this was some kind of game.

It wasn’t a game.

Dawn tried to crawl away.

Jason yanked her back. He locked one hand around her throat. The other still held the gun, but now the barrel was pointed down at the dock.

“She’s more of a fighter than I thought,” Jason murmured. “Sometimes, they don’t fight at all. They just beg.”

My brother is a monster. And Tucker had let this happen.

Dawn was clawing at Jason’s hand, but his brother didn’t even seem to feel the pain. He just stared straight at Tucker, that stupid smile on his face as he choked Dawn.

With his right hand, Tucker reached for the gun. But at the same time, his left hand came up in a rush—and he drove that knife straight at his brother’s chest.

Jason let out a bellow as he staggered back. He freed Dawn and she scrambled away.

Tucker snatched the gun from Jason. Then Tucker twisted that weapon around in a fast, practiced movement, aiming it at Jason even as his brother yanked the knife out of his chest.

“Don’t!” Tucker snarled when Jason took a lunging step toward him. Dawn had run down the dock, heading back toward the old cabin. “This is ending, right here. You aren’t hurting anyone else.” Dear God, Jason...how many people have you already hurt? He was afraid to find out that truth.

“You stabbed me.” His blood was dripping on the dock. “To save her, you stabbed me.” Fury burned in this words. Disbelief.

“I will kill you in order to save her.” Just so there was no confusion. But it doesn’t have to be this way. He moved his body, making sure to block the exit off that old dock, stopping any attempt Jason could make to charge after Dawn. “Jason, drop the knife.” Jason still gripped it tightly. “Drop the knife and put your hands up.”

Jason didn’t drop the knife. “What are you going to do? Call the cops? Play the hero?”

His phone was in the car. “Yeah, I’ll be calling the cops.”

“I said no cage!” That rage was getting hotter. “You know that! You know I can’t handle that!” And Jason laughed. A wild sound. “Just as I know you won’t kill me. You can’t. That knife barely even went into me. You weren’t trying. Just for show...”

He was coming forward.

Tucker couldn’t hear the thud of Dawn’s footsteps any longer. Where was she? “Don’t take another step.”

But Jason did. “I’m going to slice her all over. I’m going to make her beg.”

Tucker’s rage burned, too. “You aren’t touching her.”

“You’re going to help me. You’re going to be at my side, the way you always are. You understand me. You want the same things I want.”

Jason was a foot away from him.

Tucker shook his head. “I want Dawn.” He eased out a low breath. “Drop that knife, now.” But he knew Jason wasn’t going to do it. “Don’t—” he began, but it was too late. Jason had surged forward. He didn’t swing at Tucker with his knife. Tucker wasn’t his goal. He slammed his body into Tucker’s, shoving him out of the way.

Because Jason wants Dawn.

But Tucker wasn’t letting that happen. He caught his brother, held tight when Jason fought and then...

He fired.

The blast of that gun seemed deafening. For a moment after that terrible thunder, there was no sound at all. Even the insects had stopped chirping, as if they were afraid. Jason was staring at him, his face easy to see under the bright, full moon.

Shock.

Betrayal.

Then Jason was plunging that knife at Tucker, slicing down his arm, slicing his hand and trying to make Tucker drop the gun.

He didn’t drop it. Tucker fired again.

Jason staggered back.

“You won’t touch her again.”

Tucker fired once more. His brother was on the edge of the dock, he staggered back—

And fell into the water, sinking deep with a splash.

CHAPTER TWO

Seven years later...

SECOND CHANCES DIDN’T come around often. If a man was lucky enough to have one, then he should grab on to that opportunity and hold tight to it with every bit of strength that he had.

It was a good thing Tucker Frost was strong.

He hurried into the conference room at the FBI’s Washington, DC, office. It was early June and the sun glinted through the window, shining right through the blinds. The other agents were already inside, seated at the round table. Their laptops were out. Their manila files were open. Their phones were on the tabletop, probably already turned to mute.

He took the last seat, had his laptop out and open in seconds and was adjusting the volume on his phone when Samantha Dark delicately cleared her throat.

“I want to thank all of you for joining me on such short notice.”

The meeting had been called ten minutes ago. He’d been outside the building, already anticipating just how he’d be spending the weekend.

“I know that our unit is still in the development phase, but you were all handpicked to join this team because I know that you bring a unique set of skills and a perspective for targeting killers that others just can’t imitate.”

Her voice was low, calm, and she turned her golden stare on all of the agents at the table.

Samantha Dark.

He was damn glad she’d come back to the FBI. He’d always respected Agent Dark. From the very first moment that they’d met at Quantico, he’d known just how sharp she was. Samantha had been the profiler to watch, but when her ex-lover had turned out to be a vicious serial killer, she’d retreated, pulling away from everyone close to her. He’d hated that.

But Samantha was back now. She’d stopped not just one serial killer on her last case, but two, and since she’d also managed to save the life of the FBI’s executive assistant director, Justin Bass, she’d been given carte blanche to try her experimental unit.

“Some folks would say,” Samantha began as her stare turned pensive, “that we aren’t the best ones to profile killers. They’d say our personal connections to murderers are weaknesses.”

His jaw locked.

“But those people would be dead wrong.” She gave a grim nod. “The fact that we’ve had serial killers intimately involved in our lives means that we understand them like no other person can.” She paused. “They were friends. They were lovers.”

She’d taken down the lover who’d tried to hurt her and who had hurt so many others.

“They were family.” Now her golden stare came back to him.

Beneath the table, his hands fisted. Blood always comes first.

Then her stare tracked to the red-haired agent on his left, Macey Night. “They have been our tormenters.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Macey stiffen.

But then Samantha’s focus was on the last agent at that little table as she stared at Bowen Murphy and said, “And they have been our prey.”

Bowen inclined his head toward her.

“We have all been in life-and-death situations with serials. We know how dangerous they are. We don’t underestimate them. We see them from a unique perspective that no one else can fully appreciate.” She exhaled as she moved around the table. “And that perspective is going to help us. It will allow us to think outside of the box. It will allow us to notice things that others cannot. It will allow us to stop the perpetrators before they take more innocent victims.”

Hell, yes. That was what he wanted. Why he’d agreed to join this group when Samantha had approached him. He’d been working in Violent Crimes for years now, but going back to profiling, it was exactly what he needed.

Maybe the guilt will finally stop. If he could stop enough serials. If he could make a difference, if, if, if.

“You all know that there are currently 25 to 50 active serial killers hunting in the United States.” Her lips thinned. “Or at least, that’s the number we’re supposed to be working with.” The number that the FBI bandied about to the media.

“I think there are more,” Bowen said, his voice rumbling. “I think there are hunters who are so good at killing, the authorities have no idea they’re out there. They’re flying right beneath the radar, picking victims that no one will miss, and they’re getting away with murder.”

“That’s where we come in,” Samantha said with a nod. “Part of our job will be to try to find those unknown killers. We will unmask the ones who are hiding in shadows. We’ll find the victims that they don’t want anyone to know about.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Macey murmured.

Samantha smiled. “Yes, it is.” Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. “But I think we’re up to the challenge.”

Tucker didn’t speak.

“That’s part of our job,” Samantha continued in that mild, calm voice of hers. An oddly soothing voice. “But another part...another part is immediate mobilization when we think local authorities have uncovered an active serial. At the first hint of serial involvement, a team will immediately deploy to the local area and begin cooperative action with the authorities there.”

He liked that. Damn straight they needed immediate action. When it came to serials, the locals were often in way over their heads, and time lost meant lives lost.

“That brings me to the reason I called this meeting...” She glanced at the watch on her slender wrist. “At seven p.m. on a Friday night.” She headed toward her laptop and pressed a few buttons. She had a projector hooked up and a screen had already lowered from the ceiling. “Agents, we have our first target.”

And an image appeared on that white screen. Even though he’d prepared for it, Tuck’s whole body tensed. No, hell, no. Not happening. It shouldn’t be happening—

“Is she...frozen?” Macey asked.

“Yes,” Tucker gritted before Samantha could speak.

Because the crime scene photo they were staring at...it showed a woman with skin that appeared almost blue. Her lashes were covered with small ice particles. Her lashes, her lips, the tip of her nose. He could see the slices on her body, slices that were wide and deep, obviously from a big knife. And her body—

Samantha hit a button on her laptop. Another picture appeared. This one wasn’t as close up. Instead, it was a distance shot of the crime scene, and it showed the victim’s body perfectly.

She was inside an open freezer.

Tucker wanted to jump to his feet. He wanted to snarl... No fucking way. This can’t be happening. Not again. But he knew Samantha was watching him. He knew Samantha needed him.

And he knew he was going to give her exactly what she wanted.

“The Iceman.”

He could feel the other agents staring at him.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the screen. He stared at the victim’s arms, her bare torso. Her neck. “The angle of the cuts...it appears to be the same.” Because the Iceman had enjoyed inflicting maximum pain on his victims. “He’d start easily, just little flicks of the blade. Then he’d go deeper. Starting with the arms. The stomach. Then driving the blade into the shoulders. The right first, then the left.” And the guy had only been getting started at that point. His torture would last much, much longer.

Tucker stared at the victim’s face. “She’s in her early twenties. A young, pretty female. Just his type.”

Only it wasn’t possible.

“Uh, yeah...” Bowen cleared his throat. “I was under the impression that the Iceman died seven years ago.”

Tucker forced himself to turn away from the victim. “You’re not the only one who thought that.” He’d been under that same impression, until Samantha Dark had given him a heads-up when she first told him about the meeting. She hadn’t wanted him walking into that room blind. And, in fact, she’d given him the option not to come in at all.

He’d been late to that meeting for one reason...because he’d gotten lost thinking about the ghost of his bastard brother.

There were some things a man couldn’t forget, and there were some things that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, hide from.

“The original Iceman was Jason Frost, and, yes, I’m the man who shot him one long-ago Louisiana night.” He kept his voice flat with an effort. Tucker valued his control above all else. “It’s safe to assume that we’re looking at the work of a copycat. It could be as simple as some jerk who wanted to get rid of his girlfriend, so he thought he’d imitate the work of an infamous killer, or—” he rolled back his shoulders “—it could be one of those guys who gets obsessed with a serial killer’s work. Who tries to imitate and duplicate the kills.” Of the two options, that was the one that worried him more. If someone was duplicating Jason’s work, that meant there would be more death coming.

They couldn’t have that.

Macey’s fingers tapped lightly on the table. “If I remember correctly, Jason Frost’s body was never recovered.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Though dive teams had searched for days. “But his body isn’t the first to disappear into the Mississippi, and it won’t be the last.” By the time the cops had arrived, his brother’s body had been long gone. It had taken two hours for the cops to get there...mostly because it had taken a very long time for Tucker to call them in. If he’d called sooner...

Then maybe we would have pulled him from the water. But my priority was elsewhere then.

“If they didn’t get a body—” Bowen’s head tilted as he studied Tucker “—then how can you be certain he’s dead?”

He didn’t let his expression alter. “I’m a former SEAL. When I shoot at something, I hit it. Before he went into the water, I shot Jason Frost three times.” The breath he inhaled felt cold. “With my last shot, I was aiming for his heart.”

Bowen’s eyes narrowed. “But he was your brother. Your blood.”

Blood is all that matters.

“In that last second,” Bowen continued, his brown eyes narrowed, “are you sure you didn’t hesitate?”

“Yes.” He stared straight at Bowen. “I’m sure.”

“Fair enough.” Bowen’s gaze slid from his and focused once more on the woman’s image. “Do we know who the victim is?”

“Right now, she’s listed as a Jane Doe,” Samantha replied. “She doesn’t match with any missing person’s report, and her fingerprints haven’t turned up any hits in our system. But this is still early in the investigation, so I’m expecting to hear more news soon.”

Macey swiveled her chair toward Samantha. “Just how early are we talking?”

“The victim was discovered less than twelve hours ago.”

Bowen gave a low whistle. “That is early.”

Samantha nodded. “And that means we have an advantage. Luckily for us, one of the detectives who is working on this case in New Orleans was familiar with the Iceman’s work. He knew instantly what he was seeing, and he put in a call to my office.”

When the Iceman’s crimes had first been uncovered, his kills had been flashed on every news channel in the United States. But then time had passed and other killers had taken his place. More tales of gore and death had pushed the Iceman out of the spotlight. That was the nature of the beast. In a 24/7 online world, there was always another sensational story waiting.

Always another killer hunting. Always someone out there to satisfy the public’s need for bloody details.

“We can hit the ground running on this one. We can get down there and we can hunt. We can stop him.” Samantha’s gaze lifted to meet Tucker’s. “We can prove that this unit is exactly what the FBI needs. We know killers and now it’s our turn to show everyone just what we can do.”

Tucker eased out a slow breath. “You know I want to be on the plane.” The one that would be leaving to fly down to New Orleans that very night. She’d told him about that flight during their brief premeeting chat, too.

“And you’re going.” She nodded. “You and Macey are heading out tonight. Evaluate the scene, see exactly what we’re dealing with and then make contact with me again. If you need additional backup, Bowen and I will be ready to go.”

Back to Louisiana. “The location is different.” That was something that was already nagging at him. “Jason Frost killed in Baton Rouge, not New Orleans.” And he had to ask. “Was the victim alive when she went into the freezer?”

He saw Macey flinch.

“The coroner doesn’t know yet. When you get down to New Orleans, visit the coroner’s office and see what she’s learned.” She pointed toward Macey. “The fact that you’re a medical doctor is going to come in handy for us—I want your eyes on the victim. Make sure nothing gets missed with her.”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then.” Samantha straightened her shoulders. “You all have files that I passed out earlier—take a look at them. They contain information on Jason Frost and his victims, including the one woman who managed to escape.”

Slowly, Tucker returned to his seat. He opened the folder that had been set out for him, and he found a picture of Dawn Alexander staring back at him. It was a picture that had been taken of her when she’d been at the hospital. Her big green eyes were blank, glassy. Bruises and cuts covered her body.

Sonofabitch. Pain knifed right through his heart. Time should have lessened the pain. It hadn’t. He didn’t think it ever would.

“One of the things that concerns me most about this case is Dawn Alexander,” Samantha murmured. “Because the only surviving victim of the Iceman? She’s living in New Orleans... The exact place our new perp is using for his hunting grounds.”

* * *

“DAWN!” HE TURNED, frantic to find her. He’d been screaming her name, but she hadn’t called back to him. She wasn’t at his car. She wasn’t in that shit-forsaken cabin. She wasn’t on the old dirt road that led out of that place.

She’d vanished. She’d run from him. Because she was afraid.

“Dawn, I swear, I am not going to hurt you!” He’d taken a flashlight from his car and he’d shone it onto the ground. That was when he saw the blood drops, leading into the thick, twisting woods behind the cabin. One drop, another, another... Tucker started following them. “Jason isn’t here any longer!” He hadn’t seen his brother’s body come back up because he’d been so frantic to find Dawn and make sure she was all right. She’d been covered in so much blood. He needed to check her out. He needed to make absolutely certain she wasn’t going to die out at that cabin.

Another soul taken.

He pushed through the woods. The branches tore at him, but he didn’t care. There was more blood there. Some high up on a tree, forming a bloody hand print as if she’d stopped to brace herself. Other drops were low, on leaves, as if they’d dripped from her body as she fled.

He kept walking ahead, calling for her, following that blood trail, but she never spoke back to him. Never called out for him to help her.

He knew why. Because she was afraid. Because Dawn thought that he was just as much of a monster as his brother.

And the problem was...she was right.

* * *

“WE’RE ABOUT TO LAND.”

He jerked at the soft voice, his gaze shooting to the right. Macey Night gave him a worried frown. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?” Her unusual eyes—one blue and one brown—showed her concern as she stared at him. “I was talking to the captain. He said we’d be touching down soon.” She slid into the seat across from him and hooked the seat belt over her lap. “I thought you’d want to know.”

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been staring out of the window, trying to get into the head of the killer they were facing, but memories of Dawn had come back to haunt him.

“You said her name.”

His hand tightened around the armrest. “Didn’t realize I talked in my sleep.”

Macey stared straight at him. “May I ask...what was it like?”

“To kill my own brother?” His voice was cold. He was cold. He had to have that ice to block off his emotions. Otherwise...

Iceman.

“I had a choice to make. I could let a killer destroy an innocent woman or I could stop him. Since I’m not a sadistic bastard, I stopped him.”

“You were involved with Dawn Alexander before her attack.” She pulled at the sleeve of her top. Long sleeves. Macey always wore long sleeves. “What happened between the two of you?”

“You’ve seen the photos of Jason Frost.” Jason Frost. He always tried to refer to him formally. He couldn’t say my brother. Because he had to keep it separate. His brother had been the guy who kicked the ass of any bully who’d tried to mess with Tucker. His brother had been the one to teach him how to ride a bike. His brother had been the one to hold his hand when their mom was buried.

Jason Frost had been a depraved killer. His brother had been his best friend.

Tucker cleared his throat. “You’ve seen photos,” he said again. “You know we look...similar.” Even more so now. Time had sharpened his features so that he resembled Jason even more.

“You guys could be twins.”

Right. Because fate was cruel and twisted. “Would you want a lover who had the same face as the man who tortured you for hours?”

Her face went white. She pulled on her sleeve again. “No.”

He swallowed. “Right. So...that’s what happened with me and Dawn. I wanted to stop causing her pain, and the best way to do that was to stay far away from her.”

“When we get to New Orleans, do you want me to be the one to make contact with her?”

Because one of them would have to meet with her. Once they’d talked to the local cops and learned the latest details of the case, it would be necessary to have a sit-down with Dawn. Her being in New Orleans while a crime like this occurred? He wanted it to be just a coincidence, but he couldn’t take any chances.

“Tucker?” Macey prompted. “You want me to handle the interview with Dawn?”

He looked out the window. He could see the lights from the Big Easy. “I think that would be best.” Because he’d never responded just right when he was around Dawn. She stirred his emotions too much. She made him want...too much.

No, that was seven years ago. He hadn’t touched her in seven years. “You don’t have a personal involvement with her,” he continued, clearing his throat because his voice was too rough, “so you should handle the interview.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.” Her voice was a gentle rebuke. “It’s not about personal involvement. It’s because you don’t want her to hurt,” Macey added softly. “When she sees your face.”

He glanced back at her. There was no need to reply.

“You might look like him, but that’s just skin deep.”

Easy enough to say. But having a lover who was blood kin to the man who’d spent hours making you scream? That wasn’t exactly something a woman could get past.

The captain’s voice floated over the speakers and the plane began its descent.

* * *

“BEFORE WE’RE DONE, I’ll teach you to like the pain.” He smiled as he trailed the knife over her face. “You’ll hurt at first. When the blade cuts you. You’ll cry.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “Please...let me go...” Her voice was a desperate rasp. “I...I won’t tell anyone...about you...”

She was a liar. Straight to her core. He let the tip of the blade slice into her cheek. She screamed, a high-pitched, desperate sound. No one was around to hear that cry.

“You’ll beg,” he continued. He moved the knife down her neck, making small cuts, enjoying the desperate sobs that broke from her. “You’ll promise anything if I stop the pain...”

He let the bloody blade slide down her arm. Her hands were tied behind her back. Her feet were tied to the chair legs. He’d stripped her so that she wore only her bra and panties.

“But then...” He backed away and smiled down at her. “When the pain does stop, you’ll wish for it to come back. You’ll be so desperate for it.”

She shook her head. “L-let me go...”

Never.

“I’ll teach you to like the pain.” He rolled back his shoulders. “And your lesson will start right now.”

CHAPTER THREE

DAWN ALEXANDER SAT at the table in the little interrogation room at the New Orleans Police Department. It wasn’t her first trip to the station on Royal Street, and it wouldn’t be her last, either. She’d been working in the city as a PI for the past three years. She often butted heads with the local cops, and she often worked with them as a team. Depending on the case, they could be best friends or worst enemies.

“Okay, Anthony... Why did you drag me in here first thing this morning?” Mornings weren’t her thing. She worked at night, and, in fact, she’d just crawled into bed at 3:00 a.m., only to be woken right back up by the detective knocking on her door four hours later.

Anthony Deveraux stood near the back wall—only it wasn’t really a wall. A large pane of glass stretched for five feet near him. That glass threw Dawn’s reflection back at her. Or, it would have, if she’d been staring at herself. Dawn made a point of never looking into a mirror too long.

She didn’t always like what she saw staring back at her.

It was one-way glass, of course. Cops or the DA would usually be on the other side of the glass as they watched suspects get grilled.

Her green eyes narrowed. “Just what am I suspected of doing?”

“Nothing,” Anthony said quickly, his handsome face tensing. Anthony was a good detective. She’d met him shortly after her move to the Big Easy. One of her first contacts. He was tough and fair, and he seemed to like going after the especially dark cases. His black hair was close-cropped and his golden eyes were shadowed as he glanced at her, then away.

Away? Alarm bells had been going off in her head ever since she opened the door to see him nervously standing there.

“Were you sent to collect me this morning because you’re my friend?” She was feeling her way as she tried to figure out exactly what was going on. So she’d done a bit of spying on her last PI case. She hadn’t technically broken any laws.

Anthony gave a slight jerk of his head. Not really a nod. Not really a denial, either. “You... You’re related to a case that I’m working on.”

A case. She waved to him. “Okay. Tell me more.” Why was the guy just leaving her in suspense? It wasn’t like him to leave her hanging.

But Anthony licked his lips and his stare darted toward the interrogation room door. “We have to wait. The FBI is joining us.”

What? She wanted to bolt out of her chair. She didn’t. The FBI... Dawn gave a low whistle. “This must be some case.”

He looked at her, and she saw the quick flash of sympathy on his face. “It is.”

She blinked and that sympathy was gone, but Dawn knew she’d seen it. She rose to her feet and the chair legs squeaked as they slid across the floor. “Anthony...”

He tensed.

She stalked toward him. “What’s happening here?” Because her heart was racing too fast. Her stomach was tying into knots.

He rolled back his shoulders. “Told you...it’s a case I’m working on. The FBI came in to consult, and they asked to see you first thing this morning. Just be patient a little longer, okay?”

“I’m not real good with patience.” Not any longer she wasn’t. Like she wasn’t good with many things. Being alone at night. I suck when it comes to being alone when it gets dark. That’s why I hunt then. Better to be on the streets than locked in my home.

He glanced back at the door, looking over her shoulder. Since she stood at just five foot four and he was easily over six feet, it was simple enough for the guy to glance right over her.

She didn’t like being glanced over.

She also didn’t like finding out that the FBI was about to burst into the room. Easy, Dawn. There are hundreds, thousands of FBI agents. What are the odds that he will be the one to walk inside right now?

He... Tucker Frost. The man who haunted her, waking and sleeping.

She shook her head. No, there was no way fate would be that cruel to her. Besides, she kept tabs on Tucker. He was working in DC now. He wasn’t part of the local FBI branch. He wouldn’t be coming in that door.

The door began to squeak open. She whirled around.

* * *

FEAR.

God, he’d forgotten how much he hated to see fear on Dawn’s face.

Tucker stood just behind the one-way glass, watching her as she whirled to confront the agent who’d just walked through the door. For an instant, there had been no missing the fact that Dawn was afraid.

But...

When she saw Macey, Dawn’s shoulders relaxed.

And he knew why she’d been afraid. She’s still afraid of me.

Some things didn’t change, no matter how much time passed.

His arms were crossed over his chest as he watched the little group. Anthony Deveraux. He’d been the cop who contacted the Bureau, the guy who’d instantly feared that they had another Iceman on their hands. A guy who didn’t want a serial, not in his city.

Like anyone wanted one. It wasn’t as if folks went out hoping for death and despair to hit close to home.

“I’m FBI Special Agent Macey Night,” Tucker’s partner said as she closed the door behind her. She was wearing her neatly pressed suit, with the sleeves that fell just past her wrists. Her red hair was tucked behind her ears. Her gaze swept over Dawn. “And I really appreciate you coming in this morning, Ms. Alexander—”

“Just Dawn,” she said, shaking her head. “Just call me Dawn.” She paced around the room, moving quickly, energy seeming to bubble off her. For a moment, he just stared at her. She’d changed in the last seven years. Her blond hair was shorter, barely skimming her pale jaw now. Her green eyes were still bright, gleaming, but now her stare seemed to carry suspicion. Her cheekbones were high, her chin was slightly pointed and her lips were full and red. Sexy. She’d always been sexy to him. But now...

She carried herself differently. She moved with fast energy and, except for that flash of fear...confidence.

A scar sliced around her neck, faint now, white and faded, but he’d always remember that mark. Just as he remembered the others.

So many others.

Jason, you bastard. I hope you’re burning in hell right now.

“Dawn.” Macey inclined her head. “I just want to begin by saying that I know your life hasn’t been easy. And I know you probably don’t want to talk about your past.”

Dawn shot a disbelieving glance at Anthony. “Tell me you did not bring me down here for this.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “My past? Seriously? My past is dead and buried.” Her chin notched up as she focused on Macey once more. “And you’re right. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to talk about it.” She moved toward the door.

Macey stepped into her path. “I should tell you more about my work with the FBI. I studied with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She gave a weak smile. “Though it’s not the technical term we use, you could say I’m a profiler—”

Dawn flinched. “And you want to understand killers better, right? You want to talk to a living, breathing serial killer survivor so you can figure out how those psychos tick?” She shook her head. “Sorry, lady. I don’t want to be your science project. I’m not going to let you poke and prod me so you can see all of my pain and learn more about those sick freaks. I’m leaving, so do me a favor and move.”

Macey did move. She pushed up her right sleeve, then her left, and she raised her arms in front of Dawn.

From the angle he had, Tucker couldn’t see Macey’s arms clearly, but he did see Dawn’s expression. Surprise. Pain.

“I have plenty of experience with a ‘living, breathing serial killer survivor,’ as you put it,” Macey said softly. “So believe me when I say...I understand. I understand that you’re scared. You’re angry. I understand that some days you hate the very world around you. You see people living their simple lives and they just don’t get how dark and twisted the world around them truly is.” She exhaled as she pushed her sleeves back down. “Believe me, I understand.”

Dawn was no longer staring angrily at the other woman. Now curiosity was on her face. “What is it that I can do for you, Agent Night?”

“Detective Deveraux and I wanted you to be aware of a crime that was recently committed in the New Orleans area.” Macey motioned toward the table. “Why don’t you and I sit down so we can talk?”

He saw Dawn lift one delicate brow, but she turned and made her way back to the table. She took one of the seats and then Macey sat across from her.

Anthony wasn’t speaking. He was just watching. Waiting.

So was Tucker. He’d held his breath when he’d first seen her. That initial view of Dawn had been like a punch straight to his gut. As he watched her now, his hand rose and pressed to the glass. This was the closest he’d been to Dawn in years.

There was another knock on the interrogation room door.

Dawn’s shoulders stiffened, but a young cop came running inside, and he handed Macey a manila file. She thanked him and—

Dawn is looking at me.

Her head had turned and she was staring at the one-way mirror. It actually seemed as if she were gazing at him. For a second, he almost fucking forgot to breathe.

But then she looked away.

“These are crime scene photos,” Macey began as her fingers slid into the folder. “I asked Officer Higgins to bring them into us but before you see them, I wanted to warn you that they are very graphic.”

“I’m used to graphic,” Dawn replied. Her voice was husky. Soft. It rolled over him as he stood there.

He wanted to be in that room. Wanted to be with her. But...

Fear.

It held them both back.

Anthony cleared his throat. “I found a body recently, Dawn. One that set off every alarm bell in my head.” His lips thinned. “Because of you, I was...familiar with this kind of work.”

Her head tilted as if she were considering his words. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Macey opened the file and she pushed a picture toward Dawn.

Dawn immediately jumped to her feet and the chair shot back behind her, its wheels screeching. Fear didn’t just flash on her face. Horror came, turning her skin stark white, and Tucker found himself lunging for the door.

She needs me.

“No.” Dawn’s voice was surprisingly strong. “No.”

He froze.

* * *

SHE COULDN’T TAKE her eyes off the first picture.

She’d seen pictures just like that one before. She’d made herself see them. Dawn had wanted to learn everything she could about the Iceman’s other victims. And they’d all looked just like this...when he was done with them.

Ice covered the woman’s thick lashes. Her skin was blue. Her lips—they were so dark. There were cuts on the woman, cuts that had long since stopped bleeding.

The pain had stopped.

I’m going to teach you to like the pain.

The woman appeared young, perhaps barely twenty-one. She was dead. Frozen.

“I found her in a warehouse downtown. An anonymous tip came into the station and I followed up on it,” Anthony said. “At first, I thought it was a hoax, then I saw the freezer. There was power in the building, but it looked as if the place hadn’t been used in months. Cobwebs were everywhere. The air tasted stale but the freezer was...humming.”

Look away from the picture.

She jerked her gaze up to him.

“I had to look inside.” His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “And I found her.”

“Who owns the building?” The words came from her, flat, calm. Surprising when she didn’t feel calm at all. “Get the person who owns the building. I mean, if the freezer was running...” How long? How long were you in there? She cleared her throat and made herself keep talking. “If the freezer was running, if the power was on in that building, then the owner has to know something.”

“The owner was questioned first thing. He’d moved his operation out of the warehouse seven months ago. He’d kept the power on because of a clerical error in his office. He didn’t even realize he was still getting billed for it. The freezer...” Anthony shook his head. “He swore he knew nothing about it.”

“And you believe him?” She didn’t, but then she didn’t usually trust anyone. People hid too many secrets. They told too many lies.

“At this point, he appears to be telling the truth.”

Bull. She’d like to talk to the guy herself. She’d like—

“We may be looking at a copycat here,” Macey announced.

Dawn backed up a step. “May?” She gave a rough laugh. “Considering that Jason Frost is dead, I think there is a bit more than may involved right here.” Her temples were throbbing. Her heart racing. Jason has to be dead. He has to be.

But in the last few months, hadn’t she started to wonder...hadn’t she started to fear...?

“It could be a onetime situation,” Macey continued briskly. Her head inclined and her red hair gleamed under the overhead light. “It could be a person who was trying to take advantage of a serial killer’s fame. Perhaps this individual had someone he wanted to eliminate from his life, so he used the Iceman’s MO to do it.”

Anthony had edged closer to them.

“That’s actually what I hope it is,” Macey continued, her head cocked a bit to the right. “And not a true copycat. Because in that instance...there will be more deaths.”

No, no, she did not want to hear this. Dawn’s gaze cut to Anthony. “Way to warn a woman what she’s walking into.”

He winced. “I was under orders not to talk about it. Not to—”

“Our department wanted to speak to you first.” Macey’s interjection was smooth.

And...interesting. “Why?” Dawn demanded. “Because you wanted to watch my reaction?” That just didn’t make sense to her, not unless... Her spine straightened. “Surely you don’t think I’m involved in this?”

There was the faintest of hesitations before Macey said, “You were the Iceman’s only surviving victim. You knew Jason Frost well before your attack.”

Not as well as I knew Tucker.

“Sometimes, victims can...associate with their attackers. They can believe that a connection exists between them.”

The lady needed to be bullshitting.

“The Stockholm syndrome is the greatest example. Victims sympathize with their attackers, they’ve even been known to assist—”

Dawn held up her hand. “Just stop right there, okay? I know about Stockholm and I know plenty of psychological BS that folks like to throw around about displacement and emotional attachment and blah-the-fuck blah.”

Macey’s eyes widened.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I didn’t kill that poor woman.” Her gaze darted to the chilling photo. “I’m not some copycat. I’m not some insane killer who’s trying to emulate the man who attacked her.” The very idea made her stomach twist. “And if that’s the profile you’re going with, then maybe you need to head back to Quantico for some refresher courses on behavioral analysis because you are seriously off the mark.”

Macey eased out a slow breath. “You being in this town while this murder has occurred isn’t a coincidence.”

No, Dawn didn’t think so, either.

“The coroner is working on the time of death now, and once we have that, we will be asking you for an alibi.”

This was bullshit. “He froze her. We both know that you’ll be lucky if you can pinpoint her death down to a period of a few weeks. No way you’re going to get it down to an exact day. I know the Orleans Parish coroner, and Julia Bradford is a great doctor, but she’s not some kind of wizard. She can’t do the impossible.” She’d just called the FBI’s bluff there.

Macey and Anthony shared a long stare.

“I know a bit about forensic science,” Dawn murmured. “Call it a hobby.” And that wonderful Orleans Parish coroner? Well, Julia happened to be one of the few people Dawn could call a friend in that town.

“We’re hopeful,” Macey said slowly, “that a general time of death can be identified.”

Don’t hold your breath on that one.

“But...” Macey’s stare had sharpened on her. “If you’re not involved—”

“I’m not.” They could be clear on that. She didn’t get her jollies by murdering people.

“Then that could mean something very dangerous for you. It could mean that the killer is here because you are.”

Enough. She’d heard more than enough from the woman with the scars that snaked down her arms and the hint of pain that shadowed her unusual eyes. “I’m done here now.” Because she couldn’t breathe in this little room. The dead woman’s image was in her head, her heart was about to burst out of her chest and the tiny walls of the interrogation room seemed to be closing in on her.

“I understand.” Macey inclined her head. “But if you decide you do want to talk more, I hope you’ll contact me.” Macey pulled a small white business card from her pocket and offered it to Dawn.

Dawn took the card without glancing at it. She headed for the door, but something was nagging at her. Her fingers curled around the doorknob. Walk out. Walk away. But...

The victim was still in her head.

And the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall seemed far too loud.

“Not as easy to walk away as one would think, is it?” Macey murmured.

No, it wasn’t. “Do you know who she was?”

“Not yet.” It was Anthony who replied. “She’s listed as a Jane Doe, but we hope to learn more soon.”

Dawn licked dry lips. “What a terrible death. Tortured and frozen away, then when you’re found, no one even knows who you are.” She looked back at Macey. “That could have been my death.”

And now someone is here, using the Iceman’s MO. Dawn had to ask, “Was she dead when he put her in the freezer?” Or did she die in that cold hell?

Macey was watching her so carefully. “We don’t know yet. That’s one of the things we hope to learn soon.”

Sounded to Dawn as if they didn’t know one whole hell of a lot. “One more question...” She glanced over her shoulder, looking first at Anthony then at Macey. “Who’s been watching me?”

Macey’s eyes widened the smallest bit. “Excuse me?”

“Who’s behind the glass, watching me?” Because she knew someone was there. “Your partner?” In her experience, no FBI agent ever went into the field alone.

Macey shared a quick look with Anthony.

Her partner. Hit that one dead on.

“We thought you might be more comfortable speaking with a female agent,” Macey said, her voice smooth and her expression giving nothing away.

Sure, sometimes agents used that ploy, but...

They’re dealing with a killer who is acting like the Iceman. And one of the FBI’s own agents has personal experience with that SOB. Would the powers-that-be at the FBI have sent him in? Would they have thought he was an asset on this case?

Or would they have wanted to keep Tucker Frost far away from this scene?

“Tucker.” His name slipped from her, helplessly.

And there it was... Macey’s gaze jerked toward the glass. A fast glance, one that, if Dawn hadn’t been monitoring the other woman so closely, she would have missed. But in the last few years, Dawn had worked hard to stop missing things. To study her environment. To watch others. To learn their secrets.

Macey Night had just revealed one secret to Dawn.

Tucker Frost was in New Orleans. He was in the police station. He was behind that glass.

Her hand fell away from the doorknob. Slowly, she turned to face the one-way mirror, but she didn’t focus on her own reflection. Instead, she imagined she could see right through the glass. To him.

“Hello, Tucker. It’s been a long time.”

* * *

OH, HELL. SHE WAS talking to him. And he was just standing behind the glass in the observation room like a fool. He took a step back, then another. But...

On the other side of that glass, Dawn turned on her heel and grabbed for the door. She yanked it open and vanished from the interrogation room in mere moments. Macey spun toward the glass and mouthed, I’m sorry, because she knew that she’d given him away.

It didn’t matter. Dawn had always been smart. Once she’d realized what was happening, it hadn’t taken her long to realize that he’d been pulled down to the city.

And it had taken no time at all for her to run from him, just as he’d feared. He squared his shoulders and headed for the door, more than ready to get out of that damn observation room. He’d get Macey and they’d head over to see what the coroner had discovered. Then—

Before he could reach it, the door flew open.

“You can’t go in there!” A man’s desperate voice cracked.

But she was already there. Dawn stood just inside the doorway, breathing hard, her eyes locked on his face. “Found you.”

The uniformed officer tried to grab her arm. “I told you, Dawn, that room is off-limits. You know better—”

“Let her go,” Tucker said flatly. “We need to talk.” He leveled his gaze at the officer. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the guy’s name. “Alone.”

“You heard him, Higgins,” Dawn muttered. “He wants to be alone with me.”

The officer immediately backed away.

Dawn took a step forward and she shut the door behind her.

Tucker kept his hands at his sides. He tried to figure out just what in the hell he was supposed to say to her. The silence stretched a little too long—uncomfortably long. Her gaze was on his face, sweeping over his features one at a time, and he knew what she was thinking.

I look even more like him now. Time had thinned his face more, hardened him, and when he looked in the mirror, most days Tucker swore he saw his brother staring back at him.

He cleared his throat. “You...you look good, Dawn.”

She blinked.

Shit. That had been the wrong thing to say. He wanted to yank his hand over his face or pace or do something to get rid of the fierce energy pulsing through him.

“That’s what you have to say to me? After all this time?” Her voice was still husky, but he could have sworn he heard an echo of pain in it.

He’d always hated her pain.

“Why didn’t you come in there to tell me about this case?” She put her hands on her hips as she stared up at him. “Why send in your partner?”

He wouldn’t lie to her. “Because I knew you didn’t want to see me.” That was the same reason he’d left her so long ago. Why he hadn’t talked to her in the last seven years.

“You know bullshit.” She shook her head. Her blond hair hit her sharp cheeks. “No, you just know your own fear. You don’t know anything about me or what I want.”

Her words surprised him and he took a quick step toward her. But...

She tensed. He saw it and the telling movement knifed right through him.

No, Dawn. I do know you. Better than you know yourself. I always knew you.

The problem was that she hadn’t truly known him. He’d been afraid for her to know the truth. He was still afraid. You won’t like who I really am.

“What’s happening in this city? Who killed that poor woman?”

“I don’t know.” He’d be finding out soon. “We thought you had a right to hear about the crime first, before any news leaked to the media.” He hadn’t wanted her learning about this killer when she turned on the five o’clock news.

“Maybe that’s true, but I also think you wanted to see my reaction. You know, just in case I’d gone psycho and started killing like Jason.” She pursed her lips, as if thinking about that situation. “What would that be? Some serious PTSD shit, right? Your buddy Macey sure acted as if it were a possibility.”

“Dawn...”

“He didn’t break me.” Her eyes glittered at him. “I get that you think he did. I get that you think I was so shattered by what happened that you left—”

“That wasn’t what—”

“But I’m stronger than he was. I’m stronger than you gave me credit for being.”

He’d always thought she was the strongest woman he’d ever met.

“I’m strong,” she said again, “and I want in on this investigation.”

It took a moment for her words to register. Then he could only blink and shake his head. “What?”

She pulled her ID out of the small bag that was slung over her shoulder. She advanced toward him and her scent—soft, vanilla—wrapped around Tucker, reminding him of things he should forget. Of things he had no business remembering right then. “I’m a PI now. A damn good one. I know this city, I know the people here and I want in on the investigation.”

He glanced at her ID, but he’d already known she was a PI. He’d researched her... He’d peeked into her life many times over the years. He’d always thought that, one day, he’d check up on her and discover that she was married. That she had a family. That she was happy.

He’d both longed for her happiness and feared it. Because I couldn’t imagine her with anyone else.

“I want in,” Dawn said again, her expression determined.

Tucker shook his head. “It’s a preliminary investigation. And right now, the local authorities are handling things. We’re here in a backup capacity, just in town long enough to prove that the killer isn’t Jason Frost...and to assist the NOPD in finding the man who murdered that victim.”

Her delicate jaw hardened. “What makes you so sure?”

He didn’t understand her question.

She took another step toward him even as she shoved her ID back into her bag. “They didn’t find his body. His body was never found.”

He could hear the drumming of his heartbeat. That dull thud seemed to shake his eardrums.

“What makes you so sure this isn’t Jason? Your partner was talking about a copycat, talking about some guy who might just be taking advantage of Jason’s MO...” Another step toward him.

Tucker locked down his muscles, refusing to move so much as an inch.

“Tell me, Tucker. The truth. Why don’t you think it could be Jason?”

He couldn’t believe she was saying this to him. “Because he’s dead, Dawn. Jason Frost is dead.” The idea that she still thought his brother might be hunting—

Oh, Dawn. I am so sorry. So sorry for the pain he is still bringing you.

“No body, no proof.” Her stare was unflinching.

She was absolutely serious. “You think my brother is still alive?” He reached out and his hands curled around her shoulders. She stiffened and immediately pulled away.

He let go. Just like he always did.

“No, Dawn.” He made his voice flat with an effort. “I shot him that day. I killed him. He is gone.”

“I thought so, too, but...” Her lips parted, as if she’d say more.

A knock sounded on the door. “Tucker...” Macey’s voice drifted through the closed door. “The coroner just called. She wants to see us.”

“Let me work this case with you,” Dawn said. Her voice was almost pleading. He hated for her to plead. Dawn should never have to beg anyone for anything.

But Tucker shook his head. “This case could be about to end with the coroner’s report.”

Her eyes turned to angry slits. “I don’t like being shut out.”

There was no choice that he could see right then. He couldn’t pull her in, not with the local cops running the show.

She spun on her heel and yanked open the door. Macey hurriedly stepped aside.

“Dawn!” He couldn’t let her go like this. God, I missed her. So fucking much.

She paused.

“After I meet with the coroner, I want us to talk again.” I’ll share what I learn. He could give her that much. He hoped that she could see the message in his eyes.

Her head moved in a grim nod, and then she was gone, cutting through the station and leaving him behind.

Macey didn’t speak until Dawn was long gone, and then she let out a soft sigh. “That did not go well.”

Fucking understatement.

“Could have gone worse,” Anthony noted as he joined their little group. “Dawn has one hell of a temper when you get her going.”

Dawn? She’d never had a temper before. Seven years ago, she’d been the most easygoing woman he’d ever met. Always sweet to everyone. Always kind.

And why the hell was the detective speaking as if he knew her so well? Intimately?

“Ah, right, we haven’t been officially introduced yet.” Anthony offered his hand at Tucker’s questioning glance. “Detective Anthony Deveraux.”

Tucker shook his hand. The guy had a solid grip.

Anthony smiled at him. “You’re his brother, huh?”

“Yes,” he gritted, “I’m his brother.”

Anthony’s smile dimmed. “When I first met Dawn, I made a point of...learning everything about her.” His stare was assessing as it slid over Tucker. “I don’t think she was happy to see you.”

He knows Dawn and I were involved. Once upon a time, everyone had known. Their story had been too sensational for the reporters to pass up. Her lover’s brother tortured her. He tried to kill her.

“No,” Tucker murmured, “I don’t think she was.” And her words kept ringing in his head, playing over and over again.

No body, no proof.

He hadn’t realized until that very moment just how much his brother still haunted her.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THE KILLER TOOK his time with our victim.” Dr. Julia Bradford, the Orleans Parish coroner, moved briskly around the lab. She spoke with sympathy flowing in her voice. “There were over a dozen knife wounds to her body.”

“A dozen?” Macey repeated. He saw her eyes briefly close. “That poor woman.”

Macey always responded to the victims because she knew them so well.

She knew what it was like to feel their pain.

“Many of those wounds were shallow.” The coroner’s hand moved toward the victim’s face. “Like these here on the cheek...”

“As if the killer was just getting started,” Tucker muttered, disgust rising in him. It wasn’t a disgust he’d allow to show. All of his emotions were locked down right then, and he’d keep them locked tight.

The way he always did. Seeing Dawn had rattled him, and he was having to fight harder to keep his control in place.

“But here...” Dr. Bradford’s glove-covered hand moved to the victim’s neck and the mark there. “As you can see, the wounds became deeper.”

“Dawn has a scar like that one,” Anthony said, leaning closer to the body.

Tucker’s gaze swept over him.

“The wound is deeper here, too.” Dr. Bradford’s hand went to the woman’s right shoulder.

“Dawn has—” Anthony began.

“I know where her scars are,” Tucker growled. But Dawn didn’t have over a dozen scars, thank Christ. Tucker had stopped Jason before the bastard could finish his ritual on her.

Anthony’s brows rose. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat even as a light flush stained his cheeks. “I was just pointing out that the wounds seem to be following the Iceman’s pattern.”

Because the Iceman had used a particular pattern with his victims. A very thorough pattern designed for maximum pain and disfigurement. But not for death.

“I compared the wounds on our Jane Doe with the wound patterns from the Iceman’s attacks,” Julia said. “They’re the same.”

Tucker and Macey shared a long glance. Not good. But they’d already suspected this. When they’d first gotten the crime scene photos, the similarity had been obvious. However, a similarity was one thing...an exact copy was another entirely.

“The wounds didn’t kill her...” She took a deep breath. “They weren’t severe enough for that. Just like with the Iceman, no major arteries were damaged. The wounds were given to inflict pain, to maim, but not to kill.” Dr. Bradford swallowed as jazz music played lightly in the background. “Our victim died in the freezer.”

“Shit,” Anthony muttered. He backed away from the exam table. “Talk about torture. She was in there, knowing she was dying, knowing there was no way out. Freezing to freaking death.”

The Iceman’s MO.

“I’m running her DNA, hoping for a hit on her identity.” Julia’s lips turned down. “Her fingerprints weren’t in the system, though.”

“We should release her photo to the media,” Anthony said, nodding. “She could have family out there, people who can identify her. People who are looking for her.”

“Those same people haven’t filed a missing person’s report for her,” Macey stated quietly. “Don’t you think that is odd?”

Anthony didn’t speak.

So Tucker did. “Maybe she didn’t have family,” he said. “Or maybe they just weren’t close any longer. Families grow apart. Everyone knows that.”

Julia covered the victim. She took off her gloves and tossed them into the trash. She turned to face them, her dark cream skin smooth and unlined. She was a young doctor, he knew that, but he’d done some checking on her. Julia Bradford had graduated at the top of her class at Tulane. She was smart, thorough and well respected by the prosecutors in the area. She might be new on the scene, but she knew how to do her job. They weren’t going to have to face amateur hour on this one.

“How long was she in there?” Tucker asked her.

Julia hesitated.

“If we know how long she was frozen,” he said, “we can figure out more information about the man who took her.”

“Freezing the victim helped to obscure her time of death.” She shook her head. “I’m working on that, but...I don’t have a definitive time for you. Considering the way she was stored, I doubt I’ll ever have that for you.”

Exactly what Dawn had said...and, unfortunately, what he’d suspected given his own knowledge of forensics. “Did you find any evidence on her?” Tucker asked. “Skin cells beneath her fingernails? Fibers or—”

“Her wrists were tied together when we pulled her out of the freezer. From what I can tell, she never had the opportunity to fight back.” Sorrow flashed on Julia’s face. “The killer was very organized, I can tell you that. No trace evidence was left behind.”

So basically, they had jackshit. “I want to see the crime scene.”

Anthony nodded. “Sure thing, but...the freezer was transferred to Evidence. We ran a check on the serial number and got a hit because, years ago, the freezer was registered under warranty. We found that owner, but it turned out that she’d put the freezer out as garbage two years ago. She thought it was hauled to the dump. Hell, maybe it was...or maybe someone just took it when they saw it outside. Either way...we turned up empty when it came to tracking it.”

Son of a bitch. “I’ll be wanting to talk to that woman.”

Anthony shrugged. “Yeah, okay, but I already interviewed her. She didn’t know anything about the case and when I told her about just what had been found inside of the freezer...I thought she was going to have a heart attack.”

His attention shifted back to the woman in that freezer. “She has a name. She has a family.”

“She had a life,” Macey murmured.

Had. Until some sick bastard stole that life.

“Someone is looking for her,” Tucker said. Somewhere out there, someone was looking.

But Anthony shook his head. “Maybe they’re not.” He paced near the exam table as the coroner watched him. “Jules, you know as well as I do that the lost flock to our city. The Big Easy is a great place if you’re looking to escape a troubled past. If you just walk down Canal, you’ll see our homeless. Those are people that slip under the radar every day. People who could vanish and...” His lips tightened. “And no one would be looking for them.”

Tucker cocked his head as he studied the victim’s covered body once more. “She didn’t look malnourished. Her hair was cut neatly and...” Now his stare darted to Julia. “Any sign of needle marks or drug use?”

“No. Other than the knife wounds, there were no marks on her at all. No distinguishing birthmarks. No tattoos. Nothing that stood out.”

He nodded. “I don’t think she lived on the streets.”

“That doesn’t mean she wasn’t running from someone,” Anthony continued doggedly. “Hell, just ask Dawn. People come here for a fresh start. ’Cause they are trying to escape someone or something.”

Tucker’s shoulders stiffened. “I know plenty about Dawn.”

“No,” Anthony denied, “I’m not so sure you do.”

The guy was pissing him off. He took a breath, focused. Keep your control always. And a dick detective wasn’t going to get beneath his skin. Tucker motioned toward Macey. “Dr. Bradford, my partner, Macey Night, has her medical degree.”

Julia’s brows rose. “So you want to review my findings?” She jumped right to the point, but didn’t seem upset or territorial, responses that Tucker had certainly seen in the past.

“I’d like to assist you,” Macey clarified. “Because when it comes to serials, I have experience.”

That was an understatement.

“Sometimes I can see things—particularly relating to a killer’s signature—that might be missed during the course of a normal exam.”

Julia nodded her head toward a box of white exam gloves. “Help yourself. I’m not into any pissing match, so you want to help me find justice for this woman?” She nodded grimly. “Then I appreciate the help.”

And while Macey was working with the coroner, Tucker had plans of his own. “Thanks for your time, Doctor,” he said to Julia. Then he made his way outside. Anthony was right behind him. He waited until they’d left the coroner’s building, when they were outside—and then he turned on the guy. “Just what is the nature of your relationship with Dawn Alexander?” The words came out quiet, flat, as he stared at the other man.

Anthony blinked. His expression was bemused. “Excuse me?”

“Do you have a personal relationship with her? Because that’s something I need to know about.” Right the hell then.

Anthony’s face tightened. “Look—”

“No, you look. We have a killer imitating the Iceman in New Orleans, the same city that the Iceman’s only surviving victim just happens to live in. And then we have you...the detective who found the body based on a tip. Then I learn that you and Dawn... You two seem close. I’m thinking the killer knew that, too, and that’s why he chose you to receive the tip.” His breath felt cold in his lungs. “So I’m going to ask again, just what is the nature of your relationship with Dawn Alexander?”

A muscle flexed in Anthony’s jaw. “We’re friends. I help her on cases and she helps me.”

Friends. “Nothing more?”

Anthony’s mouth opened.

“No, nothing more.”

That had not been Anthony responding. Tucker glanced to the right and saw Dawn step from the side of the building. She came toward him with slow, determined steps.

“Eavesdropping?” Tucker demanded.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear. “I’ve found that cops don’t always want to share directly with me. But you’d be surprised what you can pick up from folks if you just stop...and listen.”

And hide out of sight.

“I need to get back to the station,” Anthony mumbled. “Captain Hatch is going to be wanting a report from me. Agent Frost, we’ll finish this conversation later.”

“Nothing left to finish,” Dawn said. “I think I gave him a solid answer for us both.”

“Dawn...” Anthony’s voice had a warning edge. “Watch your step with him. The FBI might not play as nicely with you as the NOPD does.”

She didn’t speak until Anthony was gone. Then she swept her gaze over Tucker. “I asked you to play nicely before, but you shut me out of the investigation.” She shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t give up easily.”

Obviously not.

“You followed me here?” Tucker asked.

She smiled. For an instant, he could have sworn that his heart stopped.

“Don’t be silly. I know where the coroner’s office is. Julia and I go out for beignets every Thursday.” She paused. “And po’boys on Tuesdays.”

So she had an in with the coroner. “You’re planning to get her to tell you what she’s learned on the case?”

Her smile dimmed. “I was actually hoping you would tell me what you learned.” She paused a beat. “Is it him?”

Him? And he found himself reaching for her. This time, he was prepared when she flinched away from his touch, but he still kept his hands wrapped around her shoulders. “Jason Frost is dead.”

“Was the MO the same? Was the pattern of slices the same?”

“Yes,” he ground out, “but...”

“Was she alive when he put her into the freezer?”

He didn’t speak but he could tell by the way her face paled that his silence was answer enough.

“So...” Dawn licked her lips. “If this is a copycat, we’re dealing with someone who has closely studied Jason’s work. To get all of the wounds just right, to attack with a knife that many times...”

“I’m going to find the guy,” Tucker swore. “I will stop him.”

Her thick lashes swept down, concealing her gaze. “Right. That’s what you do now, hmm? No more out saving the world by fighting the secret missions you couldn’t talk about with me. These days, you go after monsters much closer to home.”

Because I had monsters in my home.

“I want in on this investigation.” She was still not looking at him. “I need in on it.”

“I get that you want closure.” Oh, hell, yes, he got that. “But the FBI doesn’t pull in civilians when—”

Her gaze flew up and he saw the anger burning in her eyes. “I’m not a civilian. I’m a PI. My specialty is missing person cases, and I am very good at my job.”

And I don’t want you in danger. Not on my watch.

“You’re going to say no again.” She backed away—no, pulled away.

His hands fell to his sides.

“Why can’t you see that I’m not the same broken woman you knew before?”

Her words pierced right through him. “I never thought you were broken.”

“Then why did you leave? Why did you leave me?”

He took a step toward her. “Dawn—”

“Someone has been watching me.”

For a moment, all he heard was the thunder of his heartbeat. Again, too loud. Drumming in his ears. Nearly bursting. Rage heated his blood. “What?”

“It started a few months ago. I felt someone watching me.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him, moving too fast, knowing that his touch was too rough, but not able to help himself. He steered her to the side of the building. The same spot she’d been hiding in before because that spot gave them perfect privacy. “Why the hell are you telling me this now? It should have been the first damn thing you revealed—”

“I have no proof. If I’d had proof, I would have brought the evidence to the police long ago. If I go to them with nothing, I’d look like the woman crying wolf. With my past, folks would jump to the conclusion that I’m suffering from PTSD. I have built a solid reputation with my clients. They know me. They trust me. If I start throwing claims of some shadow stalker without any evidence...” She shook her head. “I’d lose everything I’ve worked to build.”

His hands pressed into the rough stone on either side of her head. He wasn’t touching her then, he didn’t trust himself to touch her, but he caged her with his body because she wasn’t getting away, not until she’d answered all of his questions. “At the police station, you should have told me—”

“You keep looking at me as if you think I’m going to shatter. I didn’t want you to think I was crying wolf, either.”

Fuck. “There’s something you need to understand. Right the hell now.” He stared into her eyes. Got lost in her gaze, like he used to do. “I will always believe you. I have never doubted you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “But I doubted you.”

Oh, shit. “That wasn’t what I—”

Her hand came up between them and her palm slid over the stubble that covered his jaw. He hadn’t shaved that morning. Deliberately.

Because if I have stubble or a beard...maybe I don’t look quite as much like him. Jason had always been freshly shaven. He’d always been so fastidious about his appearance. An organized, obsessive killer—

“It’s his face.”

Every muscle in his body locked down at her soft words. “His face. But I am not him.” He wouldn’t be, fucking ever. But had Dawn sensed the darkness in him? All that seething energy that he kept bottled up every moment? He wouldn’t let it out. He’d never let it touch her.

“It hurt me, at first, to see you.”

He knew that. When he’d tried to make love to her after the attack...

Her screams haunted him.

“But then you were gone—” her hand was still against his cheek “—and that hurt worse.”

What?

She swallowed. Her hand fell back to her side. “But that’s in the past. We both moved on.”

“Someone didn’t move on. Someone is out there, starting his crimes again.” And that had him breaking out into a cold sweat. “Why do you think someone has been watching you? Tell me everything, right now.”

Because he truly did believe her. He would always believe her.

Only you’re wrong, Dawn. We both haven’t moved on.

If only that part was true.

* * *

THE PLAYERS WERE TOGETHER. He’d waited. He’d been so patient. So careful. But now they were all there.

He watched as Dawn led FBI Special Agent Tucker Frost away from the coroner’s building. They’d been having quite the conversation moments before, but now they were hurrying from the scene. Did Tucker realize he had a tendency to stand too close to Dawn? That was a dead giveaway.

He knew plenty about body language. About the unspoken cues that could give away a person’s real emotions. People lied with words, but their bodies always told the truth.

Tucker still cared about Dawn. That was his weakness. But just how much of a weakness, well, that remained to be seen.

Tucker had left the scene. He and Dawn had vanished. He’d find them later. He kept his gaze on the coroner’s building. His victim was still in there.

Eventually, they’d find out who the woman was.

But he’d planned for that. Just as he’d planned for everything.

How much will you be able to take, Tucker, before you break? Because he knew there was a darkness inside of Tucker. And it was time to let that darkness come out and play.

I’ve been waiting for this moment. For a very, very long time.

Seven years, to be exact.

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