Hunted

  Can’t wait. Need her. Want her. Take her.

  She gave a little laugh and his heart lurched. He grabbed the protection from his nightstand drawer before he went back to her. Her legs parted. She reached up to him—

  No going back. No pretending this didn’t happen in the morning. She’d never forget what they did this night. Neither would he.

  Josh drove into her. He sank deep, then stilled for a moment as he stared into her eyes. Her gaze had gone even darker. Her cheeks were a rosy pink. She lifted her hips.

  “Give me more.”

  He did. Josh withdrew, then thrust. His hips jerked against her. He lifted her up, then surged down, knowing he’d stroke across her most sensitive spot. She gave another moan, but that wasn’t enough for him. Not nearly enough. His fingers pushed between them. Even as he thrust, he found the spot he wanted. He caressed and stroked until she came apart for him.

  He loved the sound of her scream.

  Josh followed her, driving harder, his pace nearly frantic now. Again and again, he sank into her. The bed squeaked beneath them, his breath heaved from his lungs, and then the pleasure hit—crashing over him and obliterating everything else.

  Only Casey.

  Only Casey mattered.

  * * *

  HER EYES OPENED in the darkness. Casey’s heart was racing, and fear held her in a tight grip. She lifted up her hands, afraid that she’d find them tied together with rough rope.

  But her hands were free. She was free.

  She just wasn’t alone.

  She could feel him against her body. They were still in his bed. She was still naked. Casey bet Josh was, too. They’d fallen asleep together. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed with a lover.

  Part of her wanted to slip away right then, to go back to her bedroom. Another part of her wanted to stay exactly where she was. But...

  What had woken her?

  Then she heard the sound again—a vibration that pulsed. Quietly. From the floor? She slipped from the bed, trying hard not to wake Josh. She pulled a sheet with her, curling it around her body. The lights were out, but now that she was at the side of the bed, she could see a glow on the floor.

  Her phone? Yes, it was the phone that Tom had given her. Vibrating. Ringing. So low and quiet—she picked it up and her finger slid across the screen.

  “Hello?” Her voice was hushed.

  “Casey?” Tom demanded. “Casey, what’s wrong?”

  Nothing. I’m just trying to be quiet so I don’t wake my lover. “This isn’t a good time.” What time was it? Had to be nearing midnight. Why was Tom calling her so late? She edged toward the bathroom, still keeping her voice whisper-soft. She opened the door, eased inside and then shut that door firmly behind her. She hadn’t woken Josh, at least, she didn’t think she had.

  “You didn’t call me.”

  What? Seriously?

  “I was worried,” Tom continued, and he actually did sound worried. “I’m outside the sheriff’s station. They just brought in Kurt Anderson.”

  Her heart jerked.

  “They sneaked him in through the back door. They think no one knows what they’re doing, but after your little visit to the prison today, Katrina and I were on stakeout here. We got footage of him going into the station. Now I’m going to need you to go on-air in the morning—be here at dawn. We’ll get the sheriff to talk. You can get some quote from that FBI buddy of yours—”

  “He’s not my buddy.” He was her lover. She could still feel his touch on her body.

  “Whatever,” Tom growled. “Get him or Sheriff Black to give us a sound bite. Use Duvane to find out what Kurt Anderson is saying to the authorities. Is the guy guilty? Did they find evidence on him? You’re the star reporter—break this case like I know you can.”

  It was one thing to report on the story. It was another thing to wake up, hands and feet tied, as a madman in a mask prepared to slice you with his knife. “I’m not using Josh.” She wanted to be clear on that. “It’s not happening.”

  “Are you kidding me? Work that Casey Quinn charm on him—the way you always use it on those law enforcement guys. You can get him to tell you anything.”

  She didn’t speak. Had she just heard a rustle of sound from the bedroom? Was Josh awake? Was he listening? I won’t use him.

  “I get that you’re going through a lot.” His tone had changed. That was Tom. Always working the angles. Now he sounded sympathetic. “And if you can’t handle this story—if you’re too close now—I can bring someone else in.”

  Ah, his ultimate threat—replace her. He’d tried that technique in the past. With her. With other reporters. That was the nature of the beast—in their business, there was always someone younger and hungrier waiting in the wings.

  “I can do that,” he continued carefully, “but I don’t want to do it. I want you, Casey. You’re my star. You’re the one the public wants to see. Come back to me. Do this story like I know you can. I mean, seriously, this is the story of your career. You were a victim, so you’d be covering the case from an angle no one else could match. This would make us both.”

  She heard a creak from behind the door. Her shoulders stiffened. “I have to go.”

  “Casey.” Worry sharpened Tom’s tone. “Casey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just the middle of the night, and I’m going back to bed.” It was easy to lie—to Tom, anyway.

  “Be there at dawn. Katrina and I will be waiting for you at the station.”

  He hung up.

  She exhaled slowly and opened the door. She expected Josh to be standing right there—only he wasn’t. She inched forward, but Casey didn’t see him in bed, either. “Josh?”

  The bedroom door was open. She put the phone down on the nightstand and slipped out of the bedroom. She padded down the hallway and found him in the den—standing in front of those big glass windows. He stared out at the darkness.

  “Glad to know you aren’t using me.”

  He had heard that part. “Eavesdropping at bathroom doors, huh?” She swallowed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  He turned toward her. She realized that she was still just wearing the sheet. She’d hurried after him and dragged it with her. Maybe she should have stopped to grab a robe or something.

  He was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants. They hung low on his hips. A lamp was on near the sofa, spilling soft light into the room so that she could see him. His disheveled hair. She’d run her fingers through that hair. The line of dark stubble on his jaw. That stubble had rasped over her body. His powerful build. She’d touched every inch of him when they’d made love.

  But he was standing there, his body stiff, his gaze locked on her. And something was just off.

  “I can’t figure you out.”

  She walked toward him and the thick carpeting swallowed her steps. “What’s to figure out?” His voice had been tense, and she hated that. Hadn’t they already covered the part where she said she wouldn’t use him?

  “I think you’re a dangerous woman, Casey Quinn.”

  “That’s only fair. I think you’re a dangerous man.”

  His head inclined—in acknowledgment?

  “That was Tom on the phone.” Though she was betting he’d already figured out the identity of her caller. “He said that Sheriff Black and Agent Frost brought Kurt Anderson into the station. They sneaked him in through the back door. I thought you’d want to know—”

  “I know. Tucker texted me earlier. You were asleep next to me, so I didn’t wake you to tell you that they’d found him out on the water. They found him...and the boat he was on had an oil leak. Tucker smelled the oil all over the place.”

  Her heart lurched in her chest. “It’s...him?”

  He wasn’t touching he
r. “We don’t know that yet. The guy is drunk, way over the legal limit, so the sheriff brought him in for boating under the influence. That buys us time to question him, to thoroughly search the boat and to see just what secrets he’s been hiding.” His shoulders rolled back. “There’s more, though. The guy...he had a bloody knife in the cabin on the boat. He said he’d cut himself while trying to slice through a tangled fishing wire.”

  “I stabbed my attacker.” But she’d kept the knife, so there shouldn’t be any bloody knife to find on Kurt’s boat. Unless...

  Unless he’s already taken another victim.

  Josh’s head inclined. “All the angles are being investigated, I promise you that. And at first light, I’m going out. Tucker has pulled up all the GPS data from the boat Kurt used. I’m going diving to check out all the stops he’s made. Just in case...” His words trailed away.

  “In case there’s another victim out there?” In case he’d grabbed someone else after Casey had gotten away.

  “Just in case,” he said flatly.

  Her hands clenched around the sheet she wore, sinking into the material. “I’m guessing all of this is off the record?”

  “This is for you to know...because you’ve got the biggest stake in this case. As far as the public and the press are concerned, the FBI and the local authorities are investigating a person of interest in the investigation. If we find evidence to conclusively link Kurt to the crime, we’ll immediately call a press conference.”

  “You trust me to keep this quiet?”

  He laughed, and the sound was a deep rumble. “Yeah, I actually do trust you, Casey.”

  That made her feel...warm. Good. “I trust you, too.” As soon as the words slipped out, she felt her eyes widen. She hadn’t meant to say that, had she? No, no, it was just... She cleared her throat. “You’re FBI. Your whole bit is that you uphold the law and you keep the world safe. If I can’t trust you, then I really can’t trust anyone, can I?” Though wasn’t that the way she’d played it for years, never trusting anyone? Always worrying, always being afraid? And what had playing it safe really gotten her?

  She’d still been attacked again.

  But I got away. I fought back.

  “You should go back to sleep,” Josh said, his voice still a dark rumble. “You’ve been through a lot, and you need to rest.”

  That was one idea. Certainly. Rest. He seemed to like that idea because he pushed it to her a lot. She nodded and turned away from him. She could feel Josh’s gaze on her. Casey paced toward the couch, and then she turned off the light. Instantly, the room plunged into darkness.

  “Casey?”

  She let the sheet fall to the floor. “I don’t want to rest.” She turned back toward him. He still stood in front of that floor-to-ceiling window. He was a dark shadow and behind him, she could see the glittering stars. So many stars. “I want you.” Because she could feel them running out of time. If he and Tucker found evidence to tie Kurt Anderson to the crimes, it would be great—they’d lock the killer away.

  And then she’d report on the story and fly back home.

  Josh would tie up loose ends and he’d head off to tackle another case.

  The thought made her feel lost, sad. And she didn’t want to face what was coming—not yet. Dawn would be there soon enough. She wanted to stay in the moment—with him. She wanted to hold the night close and pretend that nothing bad was waiting.

  Just the moment. Just them.

  She lifted her hands and pressed her body to him. Casey rose on her toes and her mouth brushed across his throat. She wasn’t the only one with a sensitive spot. His hands clamped around her hips as he gave a ragged groan.

  “Casey...”

  “It’s okay, being up here, near the windows...it’s dark inside and only the ocean is out there to see us.” She wanted him right there—then and there. She gave him a little nip and her hands slid down his chest. He was built—she loved his muscles. His strength and his heat. Loved the way he surrounded her and the way he made her feel.

  She—

  He lifted her up, holding her easily, and Casey gave a little laugh as her legs wrapped around his hips. His desire pressed against her. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Right there. Right then. As if nothing else mattered.

  In that moment, nothing else did.

  He kissed her, and she savored him. Her breasts pressed to his chest, his hands curled around her hips, and he turned, not pressing her to the glass of the window, but instead pushing her back against the wall to the right. He held her there, using his easy strength, kissing her and driving her out of her mind.

  They could have built passion up slowly—with the sensual foreplay he’d shown her before. But Casey wasn’t in the mood for slow. She wasn’t in the mood for anything but him.

  “Now,” Casey whispered. “Right now.”

  His hand eased between their bodies. He stroked her and had her gasping and arching toward him. His fingers slid into her. Casey’s eyes squeezed closed. He knew just how to touch her, exactly what she wanted, as if they’d been lovers for years instead of—

  Just one night.

  He caressed the center of her need—the spot that made her gasp again and press harder to him. His fingers filled her and her whole body shuddered as the first wave of release hit her.

  “So beautiful,” he rasped.

  Her breath heaved out of her chest.

  He kissed her again, softly, and, still holding her tightly, he went back into the bedroom. He put her on the bed, and she heard the rustle as he grabbed for the protection. He returned to her seconds later, and she was the one to push him down so that he lay on the bed. Casey rose above him, her knees on either side of his hips. She lowered herself onto him, and he filled her so completely. When he was fully inside her, she stilled. In the darkness, she tried to see his eyes.

  She wanted to see him.

  But his fierce hold lifted her up, and she sank back down onto him. The passion swept through her and she could only move, faster, rougher, and her hands slammed against his chest. Nothing else mattered—just them. Just that moment.

  Again and again, her body lifted and her hips pushed back down on him.

  The pleasure hit her, a climax so intense that her whole body was engulfed by the release, and he was moving—tumbling her onto her back, thrusting deep and then exploding within her.

  In the aftermath, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

  And...

  He kissed her.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T OVER. The cops and the FBI might think they were so smart, but they had no clue. They weren’t going to defeat him. He’d been too careful. There was no evidence, nothing to tie him to any of the crimes.

  They didn’t have their killer. They wouldn’t have him.

  They’d look ridiculous in front of the media. They’d turn up nothing.

  And he would continue his hunt.

  He knew exactly where Casey Quinn was hiding. Did she think that she was safe? That she’d gotten away from him? No, no, she’d just made him angrier.

  It was time to finish what he’d started. This time, she wouldn’t slip away.

  This time, she’d be the one who bled.

  She wasn’t going to end this tale as a survivor. That wasn’t the way she got to escape. That wasn’t her final story.

  She’d be a victim. A footnote. And he’d be the lead.

  Chapter Ten

  “Why the hell am I here?” Kurt Anderson let out a loud, long groan. “And why does my head feel like a jackhammer is inside it?” He sat up, hunching on the cot in the jail cell—the holding cell was in the back of the sheriff’s station.

  Josh slanted a glance at Tucker. The other FBI agent stood just a few feet away from him. They were bo
th outside the cell, ready to see just what Kurt had to say. Dawn had finally come to Hope. Josh had stopped at the sheriff’s station so that he could check in with Tucker before he went out on the water to begin searching.

  Tucker’s gaze was considering as it swept over the prisoner. Did the guy buy Kurt as the killer they were after?

  “You’re here,” Tucker explained quietly, “because last night when Sheriff Black and I approached you on your rented vessel, you were so stinking drunk you could barely walk, much less drive a boat. So we brought you in both for your safety and for everyone else’s. That whole stinking drunk bit? That’s also why you feel as if a jackhammer is going off in your head.”

  Kurt squinted at him. “Do I know you?” His squinty gaze darted to Josh. “You both look liked Feds.”

  “We are Feds,” Josh answered. “And, yeah, you know me. I’m Agent Josh Duvane.” He inclined his head toward Tucker. “And this is Special Agent Tucker Frost.” He paused for a moment. “And we need to discuss something your father recently said.”

  At that magic word, father, Kurt’s whole face hardened. “I’ve already talked to so many suits about him... Questions come constantly. For the last time—” he surged off the cot and lurched toward the bars, his face twisted in angry lines “—I didn’t know what that sick freak was doing. I had no idea that he’d killed my sister. I had no idea that he’d hurt anyone. I wasn’t a part of anything that he’d done—”

  “We actually aren’t here to talk to you about what he did,” Tucker interrupted smoothly. “His actions are his own. It’s you that we want to talk about.”

  Kurt was pale, but two angry splotches of color appeared on his cheeks. “Me? You want to talk about me?”

  “You are aware of the recent murders in this town, correct?” Tucker pushed.

  Kurt blinked.

  “Kylie Shane, Bridget Donaldson and Tonya Myers,” Josh supplied curtly.

  “Right, yeah, so what?” Then Kurt shook his head. “Wait, I don’t mean that. I mean...what do their deaths have to do with me?”