Monica gave a slow nod. “Okay. Sounds good.”

If he looked hard enough, there would be a link. Victims were rarely as random as people thought.

“Kenton will be down here in a few hours,” she said, her attention back on the computer. “We’ll use him to help question the friends and family.”

“How do you do it?” he asked, because she was slipping away from him.

He’d held her in his arms, come so close to claiming her again. But right then, Monica might as well have been a thousand miles away.

Her fingers hesitated over the keys. “Do what?”

“Get into their heads so well.” Because that’s where she was heading. Right into the killer’s mind. “It’s so easy for you. Like breathing.”

“Yes, it is.” She didn’t look at him.

“How?” Everybody had always wanted to know.

“I become the killer.” Still not looking at him, but there was something in her voice. A tension.

Almost sounded like fear. Almost.

“If you become them, then profiling…” She gave a little shrug. “It gets easier.”

Didn’t sound easy. The last thing he ever wanted to become was a f**ked-up killer.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve got a lot to do, okay? Are you going to finish interviewing the hospital staff and the family?”

Ah, dismissed. Right. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

That wall she’d surrounded herself with really pissed him off. He rose and sauntered around the old desk. She would see him. He skimmed his fingers down her cheek and Monica took a quick breath. But those eyes didn’t meet his.

“Luke…”

His muscles clenched. The way she said his name. Damn. “We’re working the case. We’re catching this a**hole.” He had to say it because she needed to know what was coming. “But you and me, this thing between us… we’re finishing it, too.”

Finally, her bright gaze met his. “You don’t really know what you’re getting into.” A pause. “You can’t handle me, Dante.”

Now that sounded like a warning, and it sure didn’t sound like the woman who’d caught fire in his arms hours before. “Let me be the judge of that,” he said.

Their gazes held. His fingers pressed against the satin of her skin.

A knock rapped at the door. He didn’t move. They were settling this first. “You backing away? Running?” He challenged, and he liked the way her eyes narrowed, just a bit, at that.

“I don’t run.”

The woman could be such a liar. She’d run from him but he’d finally caught her. Maybe.

The knock again. More of a pounding now.

Christ.

“I want you.” The words came out, bold, a little fast, from her lips.

And those words—they made him hard. Not the time. He gave a nod. “I’ll have you again.”

A real smile. Just a flash. For just a moment. “No, Dante, I’ll have you.”

Well, damn.

Then, because it sounded like the door was about to be knocked down, he left her.

But he’d be back. For her, he’d always be back. He yanked open the door, ready to confront one of the deputies. Someone who obviously didn’t understand that a closed door meant privacy, someone who—

“Hey there, Dante.” Kenton flashed him a wide smile.

Shit. Monica had said he wouldn’t be there until later.

“Good thing we got our own plane, huh?” Kenton craned his neck. “Nothing like flying first class. But, hell, is this our office? Figures.…”

Luke gave Monica one last, hard look.

“Uh, is everything okay in here?” Kenton’s gaze swept between them, lingered on Monica. “You okay, Monica?”

“Just fine.”

“Right.” That stare came back to Luke, seemed to weigh him. “So why don’t you guys bring me up to speed and let me know just what’s going on here?”

Two hours later, Luke and Kenton returned from their interviews. The door to their new office stood open, and Vance had paused outside. His head was cocked, his focus totally inside that small room.

“Always wanting what they can’t have.” Kenton said to Luke. “You had that same look on your face when you walked in and saw her.”

Luke’s jaw locked. He strode forward, and, blessedly, someone called out for Kenton. Luke could see through the doorway. Monica had pushed away from the desk. She’d worn a skirt today, and he caught a quick glimpse of her calves, then her smooth thighs as—

“Don’t even think it.” He muttered the words in the deputy’s ear. “You don’t want to mess with her.” But I so do.

Vance jumped and his face flushed nearly as red as his hair. “No… no, I—ah, shit, uh, I gotta—”

“Go.”

“Right.” And he shoved past Luke.

Luke’s eyes narrowed as he watched Vance hurry off. Right. Keep moving, buddy.

“Dante.” The chair squeaked as she rose, shaking her head. She came toward him, a file in her hands. “I don’t need you handling baby-faced deputies for me.”

“I know.” He should step back, and he would, soon. But that sweet scent—lavender—filled his nostrils—and he really liked lavender. Before her, he hadn’t even known what the hell lavender smelled like.

After her… he’d never been able to forget.

“What we do, what we’re gonna do, that’s just between us.” Her chin came up, and she stopped inches from him. “Same rules, remember?”

“Maybe it’s time for the rules to change.”

When her lips parted, he knew he’d caught her by surprise.

And, just for the hell of it, just because her lips were so red and soft, he thought about kissing her.

Her hand pushed against his chest. “Five deputies and a really pissy local sheriff are watching us right now.” Her voice came slow and soft. “What you’re thinking—don’t.”

She brushed by him. “Sheriff! I’ve got something you need to see here.” Just for an instant, Luke’s gaze dropped to her ass.

Ah, damn.

Monica glanced back at him. “Ready for a road trip?”

“What?”

“We’ve got an early kill. Samantha did it. She found another of the perp’s victims.”

The ticking of the clock on the sheriff’s desk was loud. Loud and annoying, and if Davis didn’t hurry up and say something, Monica was pretty sure she might scream.

That’d blow her ice image to hell.

She cleared her throat. “Uh, Sheriff?” He’d been staring at the data she’d compiled for ten minutes.

His bushy brows rose. “What does this have to do with that a**hole hurting women in my county?”

Kenton shifted beside her. Luke didn’t move. He simply sat as steady as a rock in the chair to her left.

Monica leaned forward. “I had a special agent at the home office do a search, matching some specific criteria I’d set up.” She tapped the grainy black-and-white photo of Saundra Swain. “The man we’re looking for likes to attack women. Young women, in their twenties to early thirties. He sets them up to face their greatest nightmare.” While he got off on their fear and pain.

She took a breath and shoved aside the mental image of Laura’s still body.

His gaze dropped to the photo. “This… this here’s just an animal attack. Snake bites—folks get bit all the time down here in the summer.”

“Yeah, but most folks aren’t tied to a tree when the snakes are biting them.”

His eyes met hers.

“When the victim was discovered, she was still bound to the tree. Someone tied her up and left her there to die.”

He shook his head. “You’re sayin’ this guy killed some girl in Louisiana—”

Monica gathered her patience as quickly as she could. She was explaining all this to him as a courtesy. Hyde had already given her the go-ahead here, but Davis—he’d lost three women. He’d known two of them. He knew their families. The way she figured it, the man deserved to know how they were hunting the killer.

So sure, she could have pulled Bureau rank, run right over him, and done whatever she wanted.

But then she’d find herself with zero backup from the sheriff’s office.

She took a deep breath, then said, “Last summer, Saundra Swain was tied to a tree by an unknown assailant, and after she was bound, I believe the perpetrator wrangled the snakes and set up the attack on her. With the right prodding, he would’ve had them ready to bite—and she would have been kicking at them, fighting…”

“That’s one painful way to go,” Kenton murmured, and Monica was pretty sure she caught a shudder working through his body. Figured the city boy wouldn’t be wild about snakes, not that she blamed him.

“Yes, it is.” She waited a beat. “When she was six, Saundra was bitten by a snake while on a Girl Scout trip.” Sam had tapped into the medical records for her. “The doctors gave her anti-venom, and she recovered.”

“But I’m guessing she didn’t go out on any more scouting trips,” Luke said.

“No. She didn’t.” She eased back a bit.

What scares you?

Davis’s fingers tightened around the handles of his chair. “That sick bastard—”

Using snakes for a kill was very tricky business. The guy would have needed to know an awful lot about the rattlers. Snake wrangling sure wasn’t easy. But then, this guy seemed to have all sorts of knowledge at his fingertips.

“This is the earliest kill we’ve found.” But it was not actually the earliest. She knew that in her gut. “Luke and I are going to take a little drive over to Gatlin, Louisiana.” Because there had to be an event that had sparked these crimes. Find that event, find the killer.

In Gatlin, it seemed Saundra was the only kill linked to the perp. But three victims were tied to him in Jasper. Why Jasper? She hadn’t figured that out yet, but she would. He’d picked Jasper for a reason. The killer must have some connection to the city or to someone there. The connection was there.

But before she could put the puzzle pieces together, she had to go back to the past. Louisiana.

Goose bumps rose on her arms. Who said you couldn’t go home again?

“What can I do?” Davis asked, his voice soft, tired. His eyes were bloodshot, and the lines on his face even deeper. “I gotta say something to the people. I got a damn call from CNN today—”

“I’ll handle the media,” Kenton said. “You just keep your patrols out there. Do your damnedest to keep your people safe.”

“And we’ll track this guy,” Monica added, sounding way, way more confident than she felt.

Louisiana.

Home was where death waited.

CHAPTER Seven

Too late.

She ran as fast as she could, but the tree branches hit her, snatching her back. But she had to get out, had to help—

A scream cut the air. High. Sharp.

Then, silence.

Monica froze. She shouldn’t look back. She knew she shouldn’t. If she looked back…

She spared a glance over her shoulder.

Saw the body. The blood.

The eyes staring sightlessly up at her.

Oh, God, no—

“Monica!” Hands gripped her hard, biting into her flesh.

Her eyes opened, and a scream built in her throat. Her hands scrambled, diving beneath her pillow as she twisted and tried to find her weapon.

“Wake up, baby, wake—”

She had the gun pointed right between his eyes.

Luke froze.

Pain squeezed her chest. The damn dreams were back. Four months. She’d slept like the dead for over four months, and now they were back.

“You gonna lower that anytime soon?”

Her hand wanted to shake so she tightened her fingers around the butt of the gun and then, slowly, carefully, put the weapon on the nightstand. “S-sorry.” Her voice came out hoarse.

She’d screamed once. For so long. Until her voice broke and only a whisper remained.

No, no, Laura had been the one screaming. When they’d gotten her out of that grave and put her in the ambulance, she’d screamed and screamed—

Until her voice broke.

Like me.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?”

The shadows crept around them. The light on the nightstand was on. She’d left it on. Like she always did.

With that faint light, she could see him. Bare chest. Muscles gleaming. He wore a pair of dark faded jeans—Luke had always liked his jeans. As her gaze dropped over him, she saw his length swell beneath that rough fabric.

“Monica…” A warning edge there. One she chose to ignore.

The pounding of her heart filled her ears. Better that than the sound of screams.

Rain fell lightly onto the cabin. The cabin. The only place left for visitors in the dot on the map that was Gatlin, Louisiana. Made of old wood, the one-bedroom cabin probably was supposed to be cozy and quaint.

Maybe for someone else, it would have been. But not for her.

The old cabin, the dark swamp, the constant chirp of the crickets and God knew what else outside—not for her.

They’d arrived after midnight. He’d taken the couch, hadn’t pressed her for sex—and why not? And she’d taken the bed.

Then the damn dreams had come back.

“Talk to me. What were you dreaming about?”

There he was. Caring, being a good guy. That was Luke’s problem. Deep down, past that tough veneer, he was nice. Didn’t he know that was dangerous?