Ryker caught his gaze from over by the Christmas tree, and Heath imperceptibly shook his head. No need for Ryker and Malloy to meet. Yet maybe Heath could take advantage of the situation. “Have you found any leads into the murder of Carl Sparks?”
Malloy shook his head. “Besides you?”
Heath lost his smile. “I didn’t kill Carl.”
Malloy didn’t twitch. “Miss Best? Who do you think killed your ex-boyfriend?”
Heath fought a growl. “This isn’t an interview room.”
“You brought it up, buddy.” Malloy smiled at Anya. “Well?”
She eyed the detective, looking beyond stunning. Curiosity and sadness filtered through her expressive eyes. “I truly don’t know.” She pursed her pretty pink lips. “Carl had inappropriate relations with one student, which I assume you already know. Perhaps there were others and somebody didn’t like that fact?”
“Hmmm.” Malloy studied her for a moment and then turned his focus on Heath. “So that’s only one case file currently occupying my desk. We’re also looking into the Copper Killer case, of course. Are you really comfortable setting this sweet girl up as bait?”
“No,” Heath said simply. The hair on the back of his neck rose. He looked around the room and then stepped closer to Anya. Something was off, but it might be his feelings. He had to get himself under control.
Anya frowned. “I set myself up, Detective Malloy.”
“I saw the news reports,” the detective said evenly. “While I understand your need to avenge your sister, I don’t think this is the way to do it. Let the FBI and local police do their jobs and catch this guy.”
Sparks flew through Anya’s eyes. “If the FBI and state cops were doing their jobs, then my sister wouldn’t be dead.”
Heath winced.
Malloy nodded, his eyes hangdog. “We’re just as frustrated as you are. Special Agent Reese has started meeting with state and county law enforcement, and he met with my precinct yesterday.”
Heath lifted his head, his body going on alert. “Were we mentioned?”
“Yes,” Malloy affirmed. “Miss Best’s stunt was obvious to all as an invitation for the Copper Killer to make a move, especially since she’s his main obsession anyway.”
Well, hell. Heath calculated how many cops now knew he was in town. When would word get to Sheriff Cobb? How far was his reach? The walls started closing in, and only his training and strong sense of self-preservation kept him from giving away his emotions. “I’m so glad that we’re on your radar, Detective Malloy. I will take your advice and see how we can get Anya somewhere safe while we finish this op.”
She lifted an eyebrow that promised a fight later.
Malloy grinned again. “Good luck with that.”
They needed to get out of town and now. There was way too much focus on them, and Cobb and Madison might catch their scent. The op had just turned unsafe for all of them. Plus, Heath needed to get Anya out of danger so he could think again. His attention was too fractured. She could fight him all she wanted, but he knew when to go underground.
Now was definitely the time.
Malloy’s phone buzzed, and he drew it out of his jacket pocket to answer a text. The cop went stiff, from head to toe. His soft eyes went rock hard and sharp.
“What?” Heath asked. He looked around for a threat but didn’t see anything out of place.
Malloy glanced at him and held up the screen to show a picture of Anya near the Christmas tree in the corner, taken probably within the last half an hour. As Heath watched, the picture morphed into one of Special Agent Loretta Jackson, nude and dead on the barn floor.
Heath’s ears burned, and he quickly scanned the busy party. He went on full alert, adrenaline flooding his system.
Anya sagged into his side, and he tucked her close, fury slicing through him like a sharp knife.
“Lock the room down,” Malloy told his partner. “Now.”
Heath motioned for Ryker to hurry their way. “It won’t do any good. He wouldn’t have sent the picture unless he was walking out the door.” This time. The need to cover Anya, to protect her, was beyond overwhelming.
Anya breathed in as she allowed him to support her weight.
This was way too close. The fucker was definitely playing with them and had no problem involving the local cops.
Heath eyed the exits and tried to calm himself down. They had to get out of there. Now.
CHAPTER
27
Anya tossed her purse across Heath’s empty living room, her temper finally springing free after a too-silent drive home. She’d spent nearly two hours answering police questions while keeping herself from freaking out, and her nerves were beyond frayed. The killer had wiped the cameras from the party remotely, and even though the police were going through everyone’s camera phones, they hadn’t been hopeful. The killer had escaped. “We are not running away,” she hissed, fighting a very real urge to throw something at Heath’s stubborn head.
He crossed his arms, which did nothing but flex his impressive chest muscles. “I didn’t say a word about the op.”
No, but she could read his face as well as the tightness of his body. The image of Loretta kept flashing into her mind. Yeah, she was scared. But at the moment, she was more pissed. Loretta had deserved so much better, and that asshole had to pay. “So you’re not thinking of abandoning the op?”
“Of course I am.” His jaw appeared made from granite. “This guy is good—even better than I thought. He sent an untraceable text to a cop, for God’s sake. After disabling cameras and being within what looked like three feet of you.”
“That’s the point,” she spat. “He’s playing this game. He will keep playing until we catch him.” She put her hands on her hips. “He took an FBI agent. He won’t be able to keep from making a move on me, and that will make him sloppy.”
“This guy doesn’t get sloppy,” Heath returned evenly.
God, she hated how in control he was, while her temper was spooling completely away from her. Or was that fear?
It was true. The killer didn’t get sloppy. But he’d go kill some other young girl or woman soon, and right now they had a window of time when they might catch him. The only window. “All I’m asking for is enough time to play this out. We work in the fake offices, we sleep in the fake apartment, and we wait just a few more days. Stick to the plan.”
He swept his arm out to encompass the entire apartment. “All of this is fake,” Heath snapped, red spiraling through his high cheekbones.
The words were a slap, and she shocked herself by not recoiling. “You’re right. Every single bit of this is fake.” The ring on her finger mocked her. But this was her one chance to avenge Loretta, and she was not quitting. It was her fault Loretta had even been involved. She’d have to live with that her entire life. She refused to live with running and hiding. “I’m not giving up on the plan,” she returned, her voice lowered.
“I am,” he gritted out, “because while this damn apartment is fake, last night was not fake. You and me, it was real, and I’m not letting you be another fuckin’ failure in my life.” He reached her in two strides and grasped her biceps. “I can’t put you in the path of a serial killer smart and strong enough to take down an FBI agent and smart enough to say ‘Fuck you’ to all of us tonight. Don’t you get that?” The sparks in his eyes glowed hard and bright.
“No,” she all but shouted up into his face, twisting against his tight hold. “I’ll do this with or without you, Heath.”
His smile was mocking. “You’re underestimating my determination here.”
Oh, he did not. She settled down. Heat filled her chest. “I understand there’s too much focus on you right now. Whatever or whomever you’re running from might catch up. So leave. Just get out of here and leave me to do the job I vowed to do.” She could work with Malloy and the FBI. Heath could get to safety.
“I don’t care about the focus on me, and you’d better understand that righ
t now.” He leaned down, his nose just inches from hers, his anger riding the oxygen around them. “The second I discovered the FBI was warning law enforcement about your crazy plan, I realized it had gotten too big. Too dangerous.”
“How?” she snapped. “The more cops, the better.”
“Wrong.” He shook his head. His hold was unbreakable yet somehow still gentle. “I’ve studied this asshole for months, Anya. He’s calculating and willing to mix things up. Oh, he has his ritual, but I can see him giving another big old ‘Fuck you’ to the FBI by shooting you from afar. This. Is. Too. Dangerous.”
“He’s not going to shoot me,” she said quietly, giving up on breaking free. “I understand him better than you do, and he needs his routine. I challenged him. You’re not the only one who has studied him, and I even got my hands on the reports from the other profilers. He won’t be able to turn away from the challenge—especially since I’ve always been his end goal.” A shiver chilled her spine at the thought.
“All the more reason to get you out of town,” Heath said quietly.
She shook her head. “No. I’m staying.” Her words were brave, but her chest hurt. No way could she deal with a serial killer all on her own. She could train every day for the rest of her life and not end up as practiced or as deadly as Heath already was, and she knew it. “I understand you have other cases and people after you. So leave, and I’ll handle this myself.”
“Those are big words, baby,” he said softly.
Her lip quivered, and she bit down on it. “I know. I promised her, Heath. It’s all I have left to give to her.”
He paused, understanding crossing his expression. “Ah, sweetheart. Your sister wouldn’t want that for you.” His voice turned velvety and soft. Soothing.
Anya nodded. “I know. But she was my sister. We shared blood and part of a childhood. She took me trick-or-treating when I was five, and it’s one of my best memories. Then when I needed help as an adult, she didn’t hesitate. She came to me right away, like family. She was the first person I really cared about in far too long, and it hurts like hell that I got her killed.”
He breathed out, the emotion in his eyes deepening.
She swallowed. “I have to do this for her. Either you understand that or you don’t.”
“Why don’t you just let us handle it?”
She pressed her point. “I could, but you need me. I’m the bait.” Inwardly, she winced at the description. That wouldn’t help her to convince him. “Also, here’s the deal. This could be a long op. At some point, you have to leave and deal with whatever is haunting you from your past. When you do, I’ll just challenge him again, and next time you won’t be around to assist.”
“That’s extortion,” Heath said, amusement curving his lip.
She grinned. “Apparently I’m getting quite good at it.”
Heath shook his head. “You’re putting me in an untenable position, baby.”
“No, I’m not.” She shrugged out of his hold. Finally. “I’m not yours to protect, Heath. We’re not together, and we’re not responsible for each other.” The words sliced through her even as she said them. “You’ve been more than clear on that score.”
“There’s something here, Anya. Maybe something real and lasting, if I get everything done I need to do.”
She blinked. “What’s that?”
“The less you know the better. Believe me.”
“What a bunch of bullshit. Go back to your ‘This is fake’ proclamation,” she all but yelled. “Your position is one of work . . . and this is just work.”
His chin lifted. “You think this is just work?” The tone—low and filled with tension—zinged through her body.
Her legs trembled with the urge to take a step back. “Yes.”
“Want me to prove otherwise?” His eyes darkened to the color of the sky right before midnight hit.
As a threat, as a warning, it was damn good. But she’d gone too far to give in now. “You can’t.” Yeah, she’d just waved a red flag in front of a bull.
He didn’t move a muscle. His focus on her was so absolute, she wanted to squirm. “You’re into challenging dangerous men these days, aren’t you?”
She kept her stance. “You’re not all that dangerous, Heath.”
His smile stole her breath. Then he moved. Faster than she could track, he had her by the armpits and up in the air as he carried her toward the bedroom with such speed that her legs automatically wound around to clasp his rib cage. By the time she sucked in air to protest, her butt was on the bed, and he was flattening himself over her.
She struggled, her body on fire, fighting the urge to laugh out loud.
His mouth crushed hers, and she stilled.
Heat.
Fire.
True danger.
He held nothing back, kissing her hard, pressing her head into the comforter. His tongue worked hers, his powerful body plastered against hers, and his hands dug into her hair to hold her in place. Desire spun so quickly into need she couldn’t breathe, even when he wasn’t controlling her mouth.
She shifted against him, closing her eyes to kiss him back. This was what she’d wanted. All of this.
He nipped her lip, soothing the slight pain with another kiss. Then he traced along her jawline, kissing and nipping, finally reaching her earlobe, where he bit.
She arched against him, letting out a soft sigh.
“Anya.” His fingers tangled in her hair, and erotic pain tingled down her scalp. One of his strong arms slid around her waist and then down. His palm spread across her butt, and he ground her against his hard cock.
Pleasure swamped her, and mini explosions flew through her sex. The idea passed, somewhat fleetingly, that he wasn’t playing. Not at all.
Yet she couldn’t stop herself. Her knees widened, and she rubbed against him. “This feels real,” she whispered.
Heath fought to hold himself back and be gentle. Oh, the woman liked a bite with her kiss, but even so, she was damn breakable. At her sigh, his cock hardened, so full and ready that he might erupt. So much for soft and slow.
He’d go fast and then take his time with her later.
He could be fast and gentle. It might hurt him, but he’d do it for Anya. Keeping his mouth plastered to hers, enjoying the way she returned his kiss, he stripped her. The dress sparkled through the air before it hit the floor. Her tits sprang free, and the thought that she’d gone braless all night stirred him even more. He released her to look at her. Small breasts, tight abs, and a curvy ass.
He could get lost in her forever.
Where had that thought come from? Could they have a forever? If he beat Madison and Cobb, it was possible. But he had always been a realist, and his chances weren’t good—death or capture were definitely possible. As was running again, in case they regrouped.
Getting rid of useless thoughts, he shucked his own clothes, taking little care with the suit. It landed somewhere out of his way, which was all that mattered.
Her nipples were pink and tight . . . fuckin’ perfect. He leaned down and brushed his lips over them, and a gasp rolled from her lips. So honest and so true. For the first time in his life, he felt like himself. Like the man he could be.
This woman wouldn’t know how to be coy if her life depended on it. She was responsive and honest, and those traits alone wrapped around him and held tight. Her skin was like silk, and as she moved against him, he felt surrounded by softness. So sweet. So real. So his.
He propped himself up and cupped her breasts, wanting to study her but needing to get inside the wet heat rubbing against him. Pink filled her cheeks, and her pupils had widened, swallowing the green of her eyes. Need, desire, hope—all three flashed hot and bright in those stunning orbs.
He’d never wanted a woman more. “You’re everything, Anya. Everything good.”
Her expression, taut with need, smoothed out. “You are, Heath. I wish you believed that.” Her touch was sweet as she brushed back his hair.
r /> Go slow. Be gentle. His hands kneaded her breasts, and his fingers plucked. She sucked in air as her eyes widened along with her thighs. Okay. Not too gentle.
The bruise from the night before still glowed on her skin, on her neck, and damn if that didn’t please him. If he truly made her his, he’d probably keep her marked at all time. Maybe on her thigh instead of her neck.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered, her hands sliding down his bare back.
“You don’t want to know.” The touch went deep inside him, where a part of her would always be. No matter what. He leaned down to lick her breasts again, taking his time and making her moan. Her breaths panted against him, and her fingers dug into his shoulder blades, causing a slight pain that only turned him on more.
She arched against him. “Now, Heath.”
Now would work. His teeth scored her skin, and he fought the urge to mark her breast. Instead, he fumbled in the nightstand and drew out protection, which he quickly rolled on. She was wet and ready against him. He levered up onto his knees, grabbed her ass, and drove into her as deep as he could go.
Her body tensed, and she breathed out. Shit. He held tight to his control, keeping still. Hurting her wasn’t an option. Darkness drew down over his vision. He needed her. Now. “You okay?”
“Don’t stop.” Her voice sounded pained, and her internal muscles clamped down hard.
With her sex all around him, holding him in, he nearly lost his mind. Heaven. All around him, caressing him. “You sure?” His voice sounded like he’d eaten glass.
“Yes.” She locked her ankles behind his back as if to keep him with her. “Please don’t stop.”
Thank God. He thrust into her, driving as deep as possible. The woman was tight and slick around him, and he took advantage, hammering forcefully out and back in. The physical pleasure was incredible, and yet nothing compared to the rawness of the emotion. The purity of it. She spurred him on with gasps, her fingers, and soft words.
Her thighs trembled against him and then tightened. Her entire body seemed to quiver. Her climax hit, and she cried out, shutting her eyes. Her inner muscles squeezed tightly around his cock.