Broken

  CHAPTER THREE

  NIGHT HAD FALLEN OVER THE CITY ONCE MORE. Gabe eased his car to a stop near the shelter, his fingers tightening around the wheel. He didn’t want to leave Eve alone in that place.

  He let his attack get very personal with her.

  The Lady Killer was still out there. Eve’s picture had circulated in the newspapers a while back. What if the killer already knew that she was still alive? What if he was hunting her even now?

  Gabe had recently learned a great deal about the so-called Lady Killer. Thanks to Dean, he had gotten access to the FBI’s files on the serial. The Lady Killer stalked his victims—wealthy socialites—for weeks as he played with them. He broke into their homes. Took small possessions.

  Then he took their lives.

  Plenty of people had access to the shelter. It would be so easy for a stranger to walk inside and get to Eve. So easy.

  “Did I pass your tests?” Eve asked him, her voice guarded.

  Gabe glanced over at her. A faint glow from the streetlight spilled into the Jag, illuminating her face.

  “Do you think I’m a con artist or a victim?”

  “I think you’re a woman who has been hurt.” No denying that. “One of my team members, Wade Monroe, is contacting the Montgomery family. We’ll get DNA from them and find out—”

  “If I’m Jessica.” There was hope in the words. Enough hope to break his heart.

  Gabe nodded.

  “When will we know?”

  It would take a few days, even with the strings that he could pull. “As soon as possible,” he said, not wanting to give her a specific timetable.

  “Thank you.” Then, just like that, she was across the car, giving him a tight hug. “Thank you.”

  His arms wrapped around her, an instinctive response. She smelled faintly of flowers, a sweet scent that teased his nose, and her body was soft against his.

  She tried to pull away, as if realizing what she’d just done.

  For an instant he was tempted to hold her, to keep her close.

  She’s a client. Focus.

  He let her go, but his body ached.

  “I . . . um . . . I should get inside.”

  Yes, she should. While he was still clutching tight to his control. The control that said he shouldn’t push her. Shouldn’t want her so much. Not when she’d already been hurt so badly.

  Her fingers reached for the door.

  “Let me,” he said, voice rumbling, and Gabe climbed from the Jag. In seconds he was on the passenger side, opening her door for her. She rose, and her body brushed against his.

  He stepped back. Distance. He seriously needed to put some distance between them. But even with some fast steps back, he could still smell that light and sexy scent that clung to her body. And he still wanted her.

  “Your shrink asked me a lot of questions about you,” Eve told him as she stood temptingly close.

  Gabe inclined his head. “I’m sure—”

  “I think she wanted to know why I respond so much to you.”

  Oh, hell, she’d just said . . . He cleared his throat even as part of his body surged in quick response to her. “It’s a tense situation, you’re—”

  “You don’t look at me as if I’m a victim.”

  He stopped talking.

  “I mean, you know what I am, but you still look at me and seem to just see me . . . as a woman.”

  “Others see you the same way.” Doc Tyler sure did. Bastard.

  “It’s different with you,” she murmured as she stepped even closer to him. Her head had tilted back so she could look into his eyes. “I don’t know what I’ve felt for other men before.”

  Why did the idea of others have his body knotting with tension?

  “But I know that when I see you, I want.” A hushed confession. “I just . . . I needed to tell you that.”

  And he needed to make his self-control a hell of a lot stronger. Her lips were just inches from his, and he wanted her mouth beneath his. Wanted her lips open. Needed to taste her.

  “You’re the first man I’ve wanted since I opened my eyes in that hospital.”

  He could actually feel his control splintering. Client. Cli—

  “You probably don’t want me. I—I might not be your type.”

  Now her gaze had fallen, as if in embarrassment. Had she really just asked if she was his type? She was probably every damn man’s type.

  “But you make me feel normal again, so I had to tell you—”

  His fingers curved under her chin. “Eve . . .”

  Her smile was a little too big. Too bright. “I don’t think I can handle anything else right now, I’m . . .” She pulled away. Stumbled onto the sidewalk. “I just wanted to tell you how I felt,” she told him again.

  Then she walked into the shelter, her steps hurried. As if she were running.

  From him.

  He stared after her. She wanted him.

  And she was so fucking beyond his reach.

  “EVE.”

  She frowned at the voice. A hard, dark voice that was familiar to her.

  “Eve, wake up.”

  Hands were on her, shaking her lightly.

  Not a dream.

  Her eyes flew open and she rose with a scream on her lips.

  But a hand was there, choking back the scream. She punched out, fighting, kicking.

  “Eve, shh . . . I’m trying not to wake everyone in the place.”

  That voice . . . it was Gabe’s voice. She stopped fighting. Blinking, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Gabe was on the edge of her cot, leaning over her.

  Snores and faint, sleepy mutters came from the others in the room. He’d slipped inside but hadn’t woken anyone.

  The thought chilled her. She’d thought that she was safe there. Because she wasn’t alone. Safe.

  Only he’d gotten right to her. Put his hands on her. Been close enough to kill.

  If Gabe had been the killing kind.

  Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.

  But he wasn’t a killer. He was a protector. She could trust him.

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  Too late. “Why are you here?” Her voice was a rasp. She needed her heartbeat to slow down. The frantic beat actually hurt her chest.

  “Because I want you to come with me.” He glanced around at the others in the room. “I don’t . . . this place isn’t secure enough, Eve. If the Lady Killer’s out there and we start stirring up your past . . .”

  He could come for me.

  That thought didn’t have her heartbeat slowing down any.

  “Get your things,” Gabe ordered, his voice low. “And let’s get out of here.”

  He didn’t understand, and it was humiliating to admit, but, “I don’t have any other place else to go.” She did odd jobs for the shelter’s manager. The lady paid her under the table. It was the only way that she could get any cash.

  “You’re coming with me.”

  Eve scrambled back on the cot as she tried to put some space between them. His words were mere whispers, but they screamed in her mind. Was this about what she’d said earlier? She shouldn’t have told him that she wanted him. Now he thought that she wanted sex.

  I do.

  But, not—

  Gabe swore. “Stop it. Whatever is going through your head, just stop.” His fingers curled around her wrist. “I’ve got a spare bedroom at my place. Until this situation is sorted out, I want you close. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  She was a situation, huh? That was better than being a problem case. The nurses at the hospital had called her that when they thought she couldn’t hear them.

  Only she had always heard them.

  “I’m not leaving here without you,” Gabe growled. “So either I’m about to bunk down here on the floor—I don’t think your roommates are going to like that too much—or you’re going to get your things and come with me.”

  She pushed back the covers. He frowned, and she kne
w he’d seen the clothes she wore. So she liked to be prepared. She didn’t want to be caught off-guard.

  He won’t see my body. I’ll have on clothes and he won’t see.

  She stilled as the thought pushed through her mind. Where the hell had that just come from?

  “Eve?”

  “I’ll come with you.” Because she trusted him. He was the good guy, just as she’d thought during her interview with Sarah. Good guys didn’t hurt anyone. Good guys saved the day. Everyone knew that. She slipped from the bed, then bent near the floor to grab her bag. “I’m ready.”

  He took the bag from her. “This is it?”

  “Yes.” Two dresses. A shirt and a skirt. A pair of jeans. Underwear. One pair of high heels. She grabbed her tennis shoes from their position at the foot of her bed. This is everything I own.

  In the shadows, it looked as if his face tightened, but he didn’t say anything else. Just reached for her elbow. Gabe held tight to her as they made their way, not to the front of the shelter where she knew that Pauley would be standing guard, but toward the back of the building.

  “I—I’ll need to tell the manager.” She didn’t want Georgia to think that she’d vanished. Though plenty of others had wandered from the shelter in the weeks she’d been there.

  “I’ll take care of notifying her tomorrow.”

  And tomorrow, she’d come back to see Pauley. She’d tell her friend good-bye.

  Then Gabe was pushing open the back door. She frowned. “Wasn’t the door locked?”

  “I took care of the lock.”

  He seemed to be fairly skilled at taking care of things. But were good guys supposed to pick locks?

  The Jag waited in the darkness. She stilled and found that she couldn’t move forward.

  I shouldn’t leave with him.

  “Do you trust me, Eve?” His voice was low, right near her ear. She could feel his breath lightly blowing across her skin.

  She wanted to nod and say that she trusted him, but . . . she wasn’t sure. To just walk out into the night with him—that thought terrified her.

  “I just want to keep you safe.”

  Her head turned as she looked back at the shelter. “I didn’t feel safe there.” She could whisper this confession now. “I felt like someone was watching me.”

  His fingers tightened around her elbow. “Get in the car, Eve.” Not so gentle and soft anymore.

  She moved woodenly and climbed into the car. Her body sank into the soft leather seat. Gabe shut the door behind her, and then they were heading down the alley. Only Gabe hadn’t turned on his headlights. They were easing away silently in the dark.

  Unease tightened her stomach. Why did they need to sneak away? “Gabe?”

  “Better safe than sorry,” he muttered, and the Jag slipped from the alley.

  She glanced behind them. Saw only darkness. A shiver slid over her. She’d just left the only place that she’d known as a home.

  “Trust me,” Gabe urged her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  She wanted to believe him. Wanted that so badly, but deep inside, a small voice whispered . . .

  You’ve heard that promise before from a man, and it was a lie.

  PAULEY ROCKED BACK and forth on his feet. The night was quiet, so quiet.

  He liked the quiet.

  Ms. Georgia had told him that he should sleep when it was dark and quiet, but he didn’t like to sleep. When he slept, he had bad dreams.

  Dreams of guns and screams. Of deserts and men dying.

  He rocked faster. His fingers drummed against his thigh. Drummed fast like the shots from a gun.

  But he didn’t hear any shots.

  It was quiet.

  He liked the quiet.

  His gaze swept from the left to the right. He’d told Ms. Georgia that he’d stand guard tonight. He watched the street. Made sure no one came too close to the shelter.

  Made sure no one got in.

  There was a creak of sound behind him, and he turned, expecting to see Ms. Eve. But she wasn’t there.

  Ms. Eve didn’t like the quiet either. He knew . . . when she’d first come to the shelter, she’d woken, screaming in the night. It had taken four days for her screaming to stop.

  Now, Ms. Eve didn’t always sleep at night. Sometimes she liked to come up to the front with him. Liked to stand guard with him.

  The faintest rustle reached his ears. A sound that didn’t come from behind him. But . . . outside. On the street.

  It could have been nothing.

  Have to guard. Have to protect.

  His job was to watch the shelter. Ms. Georgia said it was an important job.

  His hand rose to the locked door. He’d heard a rustle like that last night, but Ms. Eve hadn’t let him go outside then.

  He glanced over his shoulder once more. Ms. Eve was sleeping. Everyone was sleeping in the quiet. Everyone but him.

  Have to guard.

  He opened the door. Headed outside. His gaze swept to the left. To the right. There were thick shadows near the side of the building. Shadows that were moving.

  Pauley tensed because that shadow—it was a man.

  “I need to get inside,” the man said as he crept closer.

  Pauley put his body in front of the door. “I don’t know you.” He didn’t. Pauley knew everyone who came to the shelter. Ms. Georgia introduced him to everyone.

  “I need to see the woman.”

  There were a lot of women in the shelter. “I don’t know you,” Pauley said again. The man hadn’t stopped walking. Pauley shoved his hand against the man’s chest and stopped him.

  “She’s blond, early twenties . . .”

  Pauley frowned. Only one blond woman in the shelter. “Ms. Eve’s sleeping.”

  “Is she . . . ?”

  Pauley shook his head. “I don’t know you.” Ms. Eve’s friends shouldn’t be coming there at night. He pushed hard against the man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “Leave.”

  The man hunched his shoulders. “I need to see Eve.”

  Pauley fisted his hands. Ms. Georgia said he wasn’t supposed to fight anyone, that he’d get in trouble for fighting, but no one was getting inside his home. He was the guard. “Go away.”

  The man stared up at him. The man had angry eyes. Pauley didn’t like his eyes. He liked Ms. Eve’s eyes. They were kind.

  “You shouldn’t get in my way,” the man said.

  Pauley wasn’t moving. “Shouldn’t . . . come to my house.” Because it was his house. His family. He protected them.

  The man charged at him. Pauley lifted his fist, ready to fight no matter what he’d promised Ms. Georgia but . . .

  Something hard and sharp slid into his chest. Pauley gasped, the pain familiar. Reminding him of another time, another place.

  The gunfire had been so loud. He hadn’t seen anyone come close, but the enemy had snuck up on him even as the gunfire blasted. Had sliced with a long blade.

  A blade like this one.

  Guard.

  Protect.

  Another stab in his chest. Pauley’s legs were sliding down. He hit the pavement. He felt cold. He should ask Ms. Georgia for a blanket. Maybe Ms. Eve would give him one, she’d given him hers to use before.

  He opened his mouth to call out for her, but he found that he couldn’t speak.

  So quiet . . .

  His breath rustled out.

  I like the quiet.

  HE SLIPPED THROUGH the dark hallways of the shelter. Eased past the sleeping men and women. He knew who he wanted. Knew he had to see her with his own eyes once more.

  A turn, then a few more steps . . .

  The knife was in his back pocket, still stained with the fool’s blood. He hadn’t wanted to attack him, but the man had messed up everything.

  He’d had to get inside the shelter. Had to find her.

  He turned, and the last room was before him. He’d searched everywhere else. Seen no sign of the blond woman.

  There wer
e four beds in this area. Women slept in three of them. The fourth bed . . .

  Empty.

  Rage began to churn within him. The bed shouldn’t have been empty. She should have been there, waiting for him.

  One of the old women started talking in her sleep. He backed up quickly and darted into the shadows.

  No Eve. She wasn’t there. She. Wasn’t. There.

  His teeth snapped together. He didn’t run back for the entrance. He didn’t want to see the man’s body again.

  A mistake.

  There had to be another way out. He fumbled with the doors. Hurried.

  Where was she?

  He’d caught sight of her before. Knew that she’d been staying at the shelter. But she’d left, just as he came for her.

  Eve.

  He tasted the name. He rather liked that name.

  He’d find her again. She wouldn’t get away.

  No one ever got away.

  The knife in his pocket was a familiar weight. I’ll find you, Eve. His promise.

  She could run, but she wouldn’t escape. There was no escape. Only death. When he found her, he’d make her beg for death. She’d cry and she’d plead and she’d offer him everything.

  And then, after he’d enjoyed the sound of her cries, she’d die for him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EVE COULDN’T MAKE HERSELF MOVE OUT OF THE doorway. “This is . . . really nice.” Her voice sounded lost, almost scared, so she cleared her throat. And her words were rather lame because nice was a serious understatement. When Gabe had said that he was taking her to his place, she’d expected an apartment. Maybe a little house. Her expectations had been way off.

  Gabe lived in a penthouse. One that gave him a huge, 180-degree view of the Atlanta skyline. She could see all of the glittering Atlanta lights from her perch right there—mostly because he had giant floor-to-ceiling windows that seemed to stretch around the entire place.

  His hand pressed lightly into her lower back. “I’ve got a top-of-the-line security system installed here. You’ll be safe.”

  Eve made herself step forward. Her knees felt a bit shaky. I don’t belong here. “Let me guess . . .” she murmured. “You installed the system?”

  He laughed a bit as he shut the door behind them. His laugh was like his voice. Deep, rumbling, sexy. “Guilty.” He reset the security system, then he just . . . stared at her.