And she’d take the house, in case there were any more messages. They went into the hall, the sheriff’s curses following them.

Luke caught her hand. “You saved her.”

“No, you and Kenton, you—”

He yanked her close and kissed her. Hard, fast, not enough. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and her fingers dug into his arms, holding on tight as she kissed him back with a stark hunger, the hunger and need that was always there. Even in the midst of hell.

Luke tore his mouth from hers and stepped back. “Christ, sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

But she’d needed him. Monica eased away from Luke. No one had seen them. They were safe. But the game they were playing was so dangerous.

“You just looked broken when you found her,” he muttered. “I can’t see you that way.”

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “He’s not going to break me.”

“No, he isn’t.” His gaze lingered on hers. Then he turned and strode down the hall.

He nearly collided with Deputy Pope. “Sorry, ah, special agent,” the deputy said.

Luke muttered something back and kept walking. Her eyes narrowed. The deputy was supposed to be outside, helping with the search.

Lee’s gaze darted to her, and a flush stained his cheeks. Oh, shit, had he seen—

“Agent Davenport.” Lee nodded, but his eyes were hooded. Too watchful.

Monica lifted a brow. “Something you need, deputy?”

His shoulders hunched a bit. “You—you like what you do?”

“Some days.” But today…“Other days, when I have to get deep into a profile, those days are harder.” Couldn’t turn off the killers. No matter how hard she tried.

“How do you know…” he inched closer to her, “what he’s thinking? I mean, you found the woman here so fast. How’d you know?”

“Because this perp works on fear. I found out what his victim feared, and I used her fear to track him.”

A drop of sweat slid down his right temple. “You had school for that, right? Where they taught you how to tune in?”

Not exactly. “I’ve got a doctorate in psychology, but I also studied in the behavioral sciences division at Quantico.” Then there had been the hands-on training she’d gotten from a sociopathic killer.

He licked his lips and glanced back over his shoulder. “I-I heard what you said to the sheriff.”

She lifted a brow.

“I-I got to that airport on time, I swear I did, but the flight was early. Agent Kennedy had already left.” His thin shoulders straightened. “I didn’t screw up this time, ma’am. I was there.”

Just too late.

“I checked everywhere for her, everywhere. But she was long gone.” His gaze bored into hers. “I tried to find her.”

She believed he had. “Pope, how long have you been working in law enforcement?”

He swallowed and wiped his palms on the front of his pants. “Four years.”

Longer than she’d thought. “You worked a lot of crime scenes?”

“Not ’til lately.”

Yeah. Not until their killer started terrorizing the town.

“With Jones… that was… bad.” A stark whisper. Monica remembered that he’d known Jones. Gone to school with him.

“My old man died like that.” His shoulders were so stiff. “Ate his gun.” A fierce shake of his head. “You got to be desperate to do that.”

Jones had been. As for Lee’s father…“I’m sorry.” Would the words always seem hollow?

He shook his head, seeming to shake off her sympathy. “I’m not like him. I’m not. I can help. I can do—”

“Pope! Get movin’! Dante needs more men!”

He flushed. “I can help,” he said once more, then hurried out at the sheriff’s command.

Monica watched him leave. “Sheriff, how long has Pope been on your team?”

“About six months.” He took his time coming to her side. “Got me some new recruits when Barnes and Lakely retired.”

Interesting.

“He worked over in Gatlin County for a few years.” His voice lowered a bit. “Word was that he’d had him a bad break-up so he got out of Jasper.” Of course the sheriff would know the gossip. He shrugged. “But then he finally transferred back home early this year.”

Home. Jasper County. The not-so-safe place to live. And he’d been in Gatlin, where Saundra had been killed.

Could be coincidence, or it could be one hell of a lot more.

“Sam? Sam, everything’s all right.”

She heard the voice from a distance. A man’s voice, muted. Drifting to her so slowly.

She tried to open her eyes, but it was hard, and just when she’d get her lids up a bit, they’d fall again.

Where am I? What’s happening?

Someone grabbed her fingers and held tight. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Hospital. Why?

Because she’d been in the water, drowning, over and over and—

Sam shot up, screaming. Wrenching cries that hurt her throat.

Strong hands clamped around her shoulders. “Hold her, we need—”

“Sam.”

A voice she knew. Blinking, she turned her head and saw Kenton. His clothes were wet. His handsome face tense.

Safe. Kenton wouldn’t hurt her. He was on her team. Trust the team or trust no one.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Another, but still tasted only the bitter water on her tongue. “Did you… get h-him?”

A slow shake of his head.

Fear squeezed her heart, a tight grasp that had her gasping.

“We will,” he told her, his voice intense. “We’re going to get him. Monica’s after him. She’s going to track him and stop him. He won’t hurt you or anyone else.”

Her body sagged, and he eased her back onto the stretcher. “She found you,” he said, “and she’ll find him.”

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Monica. Sam remembered seeing her. Black hair, soaking wet. Monica had been there, holding her on the dock. “S-saved… me.”

“Yeah, Monica pulled you out. Damn, you scared the hell out of us, Sam. You weren’t breathing.”

No, because that last time, he’d held her under too long. He’d grown tired of his game.

How many times had she been in that water? “He… knew,” she managed. The man had known just how to break her.

Kenton just stared back at her. She saw the lines of worry near his eyes.

The killer knew her fears. This case wasn’t just about random vics in a southern town. Had it ever been?

If he knew her fears, he could have targeted the other SSD agents, too. He could have set up the original kills to lure them in to his game.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kenton told her, but right then, she didn’t believe him.

She wondered if even he believed the words.

CHAPTER Thirteen

Music blared from an old jukebox, a slow country beat with someone doing someone else wrong. Folks packed the inside of Pete’s Bar. Smoke filled the air, curling lazily over the pool tables, and glass beer bottles clinked.

The people of Jasper were out having a good time. Relaxing, dancing, flirting. Acting like there wasn’t a killer preying on their streets.

Luke had a cold beer in front of him, a fellow agent who was alive, and he knew he should have been celebrating like the deputies seated in the corner booth, but he couldn’t.

Because something wasn’t right. One thing kept nagging at his mind, and he just couldn’t get past it.

That rose. That damn bloody rose. What kind of message had that been?

When Monica had seen the rose, all the color had blanched from her face. He’d been reaching for her, to hold her, to keep her on her feet, when her spine had straightened and she’d shoved back her shoulders. Whenever she felt threatened, she did that. Stood tall, straightened those shoulders and acted like she wasn’t scared.

When he knew she was. He was surprised the woman still thought he bought that act.

The fear that had flickered in her eyes had vanished almost instantly, but he’d been left thinking…

That message is for her.

But Monica wasn’t sharing anything with him. She was working on her profile, talking to the crime scene guys, huddling with Gerry the tech, and not telling him a thing.

“What’s got you looking so angry, Agent Dante?” Gravelly, rough, and, of-piss-course, his boss’s voice.

He lowered the beer and turned slowly to face Keith Hyde. What had him angry? Take your pick. “The a**hole dicking around with us.”

Hyde’s lips quirked. “Yeah, it’s time for the bastard to go down.” He pulled up a stool and motioned to the bartender. “Water.” Hyde didn’t drink alcohol. Ever.

Or at least, he hadn’t in over fifteen years.

A.A. If the stories were true.

“Sam can’t identify him.” Hyde’s fingers rapped on the bartop. “I saw her right after I flew in. She doesn’t even remember being at the airport.” He exhaled a rough sigh.

“What does she remember?” Had to be something. Something they could use…

“Just being at the cabin, being in the water.” Hyde paused when the bartender slid a glass of water his way. “She lost her glasses, so she couldn’t see her attacker clearly. She could only say he was tall, over six-foot-two. Probably weighed about one eighty to two hundred.” A shrug. “More info than we had before, a whole lot less than we need.”

Yeah, it was better than nothing, but still close to jackshit. “What about his voice? Did she say—”

“He whispered to her.” Hyde took a long swallow of water. “No accent.”

“How is she?” Christ, to have gone through that guy’s sick games.…

“She doesn’t know how many times he put her in the water. The guy got off on keeping Sam in the water until she nearly drowned. Then he’d let her out, let her think she’d survived—but every time, he just kept throwing her back in.”

Sick f**k.

“Monica…” Hyde rubbed a hand over his face. “She told me that he probably only stopped when Sam gave up trying to survive. There wasn’t any fear anymore, so he let her go.”

He let her drown.

Luke raised his bottle. The beer looked like piss and tasted like water. Loud laughter broke out from one of the pool tables. He glanced over and saw Deputy Vance Monroe. Vance had one of the waitresses up on the table. His mouth was locked tight to the blonde’s.

Huh. At least someone was having a good night.

“Monica lives for the job, you know.” Hyde’s attention hadn’t wavered. Not for an instant.

Luke lowered the bottle and turned back to his boss. “Yeah, I figured that one out a long time ago.” When it came to Monica’s priorities, he knew exactly where he fell on her list.

Hyde smiled. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The guy really had a shark’s grin. “Such a smartass. Do you really think I don’t know about you?”

Uh, what—

“I know about her past. I know about Quantico, and I know about you.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Sir, I think you need to watch your step.” He might respect the man, but Hyde wasn’t about to get between him and Monica. No one was. “If you want me off this team because of an involvement I—”

Laughter. Not from the pool table group this time, but from Hyde. “Dante, I knew you’d slept with Monica before I brought you on the team. Hell, that was one of the reasons she gave me for not bringing you on.”

What?

“Monica told me if you came on board, it might just happen again.” Hyde shook his head, and a wry smile curved his lips. “Guess she knew what she was talking about.”

Holy hell. Luke tried to shut his gaping mouth, but he had to ask, “And you approved the transfer anyway?”

Carefully, Hyde sat his empty glass down on the table. “I don’t care what you do with your dick.”

Yeah, good to know.

“I do care about how you do your job. My division isn’t like others. We have our own rules. And rule one—your team members, all of them, have to be able to count on you.”

“They can.” He’d always done his job and done it well.

“If you let your feelings for Monica blind you, then you’re no good to me.” Blunt. “Keep your control, keep your cool, and keep your job.”

“You giving this same sweet talk to Monica?”

Hyde shoved away from the bar and took a moment to straighten his suit. “Don’t have to. Monica doesn’t lose control.”

“Then you don’t know Monica,” the words came out too fast. But he was tired of everyone thinking she was some kind of ice queen. She had the same needs and hungers and feelings that everyone else did. And her control was starting to crack. He’d seen the fissures today. Maybe it had been cracking for a while.

“Ah, let me guess. You think you know her, right?” A shake of his head. “Son, I thought you were smarter than that.” Hyde turned and pushed his way through the crowd.

He kept his eyes on Hyde’s retreating back and watched him head for the door. Just when he reached the double doors, Monica stepped inside. Luke saw her say something to the boss, then her eyes rose and met his.

The woman might as well have punched him in the gut.

I am so screwed.

Keeping his distance today had been torture, and, yeah, he’d broken. That kiss in the hall ranked as a moment of idiocy. But he’d had to touch her.