They’d won, though. They’d stopped the killer. They’d unmasked Theodore Anderson. And now Jill and Hayden were finally free to work on their future together.
But Josh wasn’t Hayden, and Casey...she wasn’t Jill. They didn’t have a past that linked them, and as far as how he felt about her... “Emotions aren’t an issue for me. She’s just a case.” Simple words. Emotions didn’t get to him. He did his job, and he moved on. Simple.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Hayden mumbled.
Josh climbed onto the motorcycle. He glanced over at the house and saw the yellow line of crime scene tape.
Casey could have died in that house.
His jaw clenched. The killer wouldn’t get close to her again. Not on his watch.
* * *
SHE’D BEEN POKED and prodded for hours. Hours. And Casey was not a happy woman. Her control was barely holding on, and any moment, she was afraid she might just break apart.
She didn’t want to break in front of the too friendly nurses. Or the steely-eyed doctors. Or anyone.
“Are we done yet?” Casey asked, fighting to keep her voice calm.
Dr. Abernathy, a young African American woman with small, wire-framed glasses and a no-nonsense manner, looked up from Casey’s charts. “You are a very lucky woman, Ms. Quinn.”
She had to swallow three times before she could manage to speak again. “Luckier than the other victims.”
A faint furrow appeared between the doctor’s eyes.
“I don’t feel sick any longer. I don’t have the headache—”
“It’s good that you’re feeling better, but I’d like to keep you for observation a bit longer. You took a severe blow to the head—”
“I just told you my head felt fine now.” Only a tiny lie. Her head still ached a bit, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.
“In concussion cases, the victim may suffer from seizures or convulsions. It’s possible that you could become confused and agitated—”
“I feel plenty agitated right now,” Casey muttered as she fiddled with the paper hospital gown that she was wearing. Her clothes had been taken, confiscated as evidence by the authorities. “Thank you for all that you’ve done. Really, thank you. But I want to get out of here, okay? I don’t have nausea, no blurred vision, no memory lapses. I know our president. I know my birthday. I know—”
The curtain on the side of her bed swung back. “You know that you’re causing trouble.”
Her breath left in a quick rush. Josh. “I—I thought you were at the crime scene.” She pulled up her covers—or rather, the thin sheet that was her only cover, other than the paper gown. “How long have you been here?” Had he just been hanging around, eavesdropping on her talk with the doctor? Didn’t he get there was a whole patient privacy issue going on?
He stepped closer to the bed. A line of stubble coated his hard jaw. “Been here long enough to know that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“No, I’m not. I let the doctors check me out. I did everything they wanted.” Her shoulders straightened. “Now, I want to go back to my hotel—” But even as she said the words, she stopped. No, she didn’t want to go back to the hotel. She didn’t want to return to that dark room and remember what it had been like when the attacker grabbed her.
“Your room isn’t an option.”
Because a crime scene team was still there? “I’m sure I can get another hotel room.”
His jaw hardened. “What you’re getting is a safe house.”
A what?
“Um, excuse me,” the doctor began.
Josh flashed his ID at her. “FBI. I’m Josh Duvane, and I’ll be seeing to Ms. Quinn’s security.”
“I told you to call me Casey,” she reminded him, again.
He flashed her a hard look.
Fine. Enough of this. Casey shoved back her thin cover. If need be, she’d leave that place in her paper gown. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. She started to rise—
Josh locked his hands around her shoulders and pushed her back down. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Yes, I am going someplace. I’m getting out of here. Because I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like getting poked and prodded, and since nothing is wrong with me, there’s no reason I can’t just walk right out of that door.”
There was more to it than that. She had a very specific reason for not liking hospitals. Once, she’d spent far too much time in a hospital. She’d grown to hate those white walls and the scent of antiseptic. That scent was like death to her.
He glanced at the doctor.
“She needs someone to stay with her,” Dr. Abernathy said. “In case she has any issues—blurred vision, slurred speech, convulsions...”
Oh, yes, that lovely list again. “I’ll bunk with my camerawoman. Katrina can make sure I’m okay.” Speaking of Katrina, the woman was probably freaking out. Casey needed to talk with her immediately but no one had let her have a phone.
Not helpful.
“If I make sure she isn’t alone,” Josh said, his hands still around her shoulders, “will she be able to leave?”
Dr. Abernathy nodded. “Yes, but if she displays any of those symptoms, she has to return to the hospital right away.”
He nodded. “Done.”
Done?
“I’ll get an orderly to help Ms. Quinn to the car,” Dr. Abernathy stated briskly. “Patient pickup is located at the front side of the building—”
“And that side is covered by reporters. I’ll be getting Casey out, don’t worry about that.”
The doctor blinked. “Uh, right. Okay, then. I’ll go prepare the discharge paperwork.” She exited the room. Josh didn’t move.
Casey stared up at him. “Safe house?”
“Yes, it’s a place we put victims or potential witnesses so we can be sure that—”
“I know what a safe house is,” she said. “But since when am I going to one?”
“Since you escaped a killer?”
“Josh—”
“I’m afraid you’re being taken into protective custody for the time being.” His hands slid away from her. He turned and paced toward the door—and he picked up a small duffel bag that she hadn’t even noticed before. “And while you’re under protective custody, I have to ask that you refrain from speaking with reporters.”
“I am a reporter.”
He brought the bag to her. She glanced inside and relief filled her. Clothes. The guy had stopped and picked up some of her clothes. “I could kiss you,” she mumbled.
“If you want...”
Her gaze jerked up to his.
He stared at her. The tension between them mounted. She hadn’t even been thinking when she’d spoken. It had just been an expression but now...
She swallowed. “You’re not...you’re not like other FBI agents, are you?”
“You’ve met a lot of us?”
“My fair share.” She felt too exposed. Being in front of him, just that thin gown covering her skin, made her feel too vulnerable. “Side effect of my job, you know? I tend to cross paths with the authorities a lot.” She was rambling. Casey clamped her lips shut.
His hand lifted and he touched her cheek.
Casey flinched.
“Easy...”
“There is nothing easy about how I feel right now.” Her whole life was out of control.
His gaze was on her cheek. “Does it hurt?”
“The cut or the bruise?” Then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Josh, get me out of here.”
“It matters.” His voice was rough, his gaze gleaming. “It matters one hell of a lot to me.” He stepped away. “Do you need help changing?”
Help... Ah, him? Seeing
her naked? “No, I...have it.”
He pulled the curtain back into place.
“You’re just...standing there?” On the other side of that thin curtain?
“I can’t see you.”
She slid off the bed and dressed—slowly. She didn’t want to fall and have him rushing back in to pick her nearly naked self off the floor. After sliding into the underwear and bra, she put on jeans and pulled on a T-shirt. He’d even brought her some tennis shoes. He’d covered all the bases. What a guy.
“Casey?”
She left the gown on the bed. “I’m done.”
He shoved back the curtain. His gaze raked her.
Her hands twisted. “So...a safe house, huh?” Crap. She’d said that before. “Just how long will I be staying there?”
He caught one of her twisting hands in his and led her to the door. “I don’t know yet.”
That wasn’t good. Not knowing implied it could be days. Weeks? No, absolutely not. She had a job. She had a story to cover.
I am the story. Her stomach twisted.
“Who’ll be staying with me?” They were walking down the polished hallway of the hospital. He kept his grip on her hand and he stayed firmly at her side. He’d probably drop her at the safe house and vanish. After all, his work was in the water—
“For the time being, I am.”
She stopped. “You. But...why?”
He turned toward her. His gaze wasn’t gleaming now. It was burning with emotion that she couldn’t read. “Because I can keep you safe. No threat will come to you when I’m near.”
She wanted to believe him. He sounded so confident, and right then, she was feeling...scared. Casey didn’t let herself fear much, but after her night from hell? She figured she was entitled to some good, old-fashioned terror.
He was going to kill me.
“You fought him off. You survived.” Josh’s voice was so deep and dark. “Now my job is to make sure you keep surviving.”
“But...I thought you were the USERT lead—”
“I am, and I’ll keep working with USERT. But right now, I don’t have a body to search for.”
Because she’d survived.
He started walking again. He stopped near the elevator and pressed the button to bring it up. A moment later, the door dinged. They stepped inside, and he hit the button to take them down to the basement. No, to the parking garage.
When the doors closed, they seemed to immediately be wrapped in intimacy. Why did the elevator feel so small? Or maybe he just seemed too big.
“Are we using your motorcycle?” Casey bit her lip. “Because I’d really prefer a different ride.”
His lips quirked. “Already ahead of you. Got a rental waiting for us.”
Again, he’d covered all the bases. He must have been a Boy Scout back in the day.
“When we get to the safe house, another agent will be waiting for us. He’s going to need to hear your story again.”
The doors dinged open. The parking garage waited. She started to step out, but Josh caught her arm and pulled her back. Then he went out first, and his gaze swept the scene.
“You really think he’s coming after me again, don’t you?”
He kept a tight hold on her arm as he led her to a dark SUV. His rental. He put her in the passenger side and didn’t speak until he’d slid in behind the steering wheel. He locked the doors, turned on the engine then glanced over at her. His gaze was hooded as he said, “I think we have two options with a killer like him.”
A serial killer. A sadistic—
“You’re the first victim—that we know of—who has gotten away. He may look at you as unfinished business. He may focus on you. Fixate.”
That sounded very, very not good.
“Or he may immediately pick a new victim to replace you.”
Someone to die while she lived? Casey shook her head. “I don’t like either option.” Her voice came out sounding very small.
“Neither do I.” He drove them out of the garage. She looked to the side as they left the hospital, and saw plenty of familiar faces in the crowd of reporters. “That’s why Hayden has his men and the local Bureau agents combing this town. We have to find the perp before anyone else is hurt.”
Before he attacked someone else...
Or before he comes for me again.
* * *
I SEE YOU, CASEY.
He stood at the back of the pack of reporters. They were all staring at the main entrance to the hospital, hoping to get a glimpse of Casey Quinn. One of their own had just become the center of their attention.
But they should have focused their attention elsewhere. He’d been glancing toward the parking garage exit, and he’d just seen the SUV slip away. For a moment, Casey had glanced back, almost seeming to look right at him. She’d been in the passenger seat, and her hand had risen to press against the window.
I see you.
He noted the license plate for that vehicle. He hadn’t been able to glimpse the driver, but with all the Feds running around town, he was betting Casey had just gotten herself some protection. Not that protection would do her any good.
He eased away from the crowd and slipped into his car. The dark SUV—Casey’s getaway SUV—was stopped at a red light just ahead. Simple enough to spot. Easy enough to follow.
He’d just see where Casey was going because he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.
He and Casey were just getting started.
Chapter Five
She had a bruise on her cheek and fear in her eyes. Josh didn’t like that—didn’t like the bruise, didn’t like the small cut on top of the bruise and he didn’t like the way her body trembled as she walked into the safe house that he’d secured for her. They’d traveled to the newest condominium complex in Hope and they were in the penthouse unit, a unit that provided them with maximum security. There were video cameras positioned in the hallway, and a guard stationed to review IDs in the lobby.
He’d checked out the small town of Hope and figured this place was Casey’s best bet. It was the most secure building in the area.
“The place has a killer view,” Casey murmured. She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the beach. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach. She glanced back at him and raised her brows. “The FBI must be spending a ton of money on me.”
He strode toward her. Her scent—light, and still reminding him of candy—drifted to him. “Don’t worry about the money.” Her safety was what mattered.
“I thought you said there was going to be another FBI agent here.”
“Tucker will be arriving any moment.” He’d gotten a text from Tucker right when they arrived. The other agent had been delayed because he had to meet with Hayden. Special Agent Tucker Frost was the behavioral specialist who’d been sent to figure out the killer—and to replace the guy who hadn’t made any progress on the case for the past three weeks. FBI brass had wanted a change, a fresh perspective—so Tucker had been shipped down to Florida. “There’s a new...team working within the FBI,” he said. “Tucker is part of that team.”
Her head cocked.
“A few agents have been hand selected for this group. Their job is to specifically track and apprehend serials.” He was being very careful with what he shared—after all, Casey was a reporter.
“And you didn’t want to be part of this group?” She turned away from the windows and focused completely on him. Her arms were still around her stomach, as if she were trying to warm herself. Or shield herself.
He took another step toward her even as he gave a slow shake of his head. “I don’t like climbing into a killer’s mind.” That wasn’t for him. Figuring out what made those monsters tick? Looking into the darkness and having it try to swallow you
whole? No, he’d come too close to that before. “I work with the victims.”
Her lips parted. “You bring them home.”
“I find them...and I find the evidence we need to lock the killers away. That’s the job I like—making sure that no one gets away with murder.”
She studied him a moment, seeming to consider his words, then she said, “I—I should call my boss, Tom. I should talk to Katrina, too. Let them know what happened. They must be worried sick about me.”
Her voice had softened a bit when she mentioned her boss’s name. “I already contacted Katrina and told her you were all right. She said she was calling your producer.”
“That’s Tom. Tom Warren. He’s the producer of the show—and the guy pretty much controls everything that happens on the show. He’ll want to talk to me.” Her hands dropped. “I don’t have my phone, though. When I was, um, taken from the hotel room, I didn’t exactly get a chance to grab it and—”
His hands closed around her shoulders. “Stop.” Because her words were too brittle. Her expression too guarded. “You’re safe, Casey. Do you hear me? Safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
And...he saw the change in her expression. The fear that couldn’t be denied as it swept over her face. “I’ve heard that promise before.”
What?
“It wasn’t true then.” Tears gleamed in her eyes but she blinked quickly, not letting those tears fall. “And I’m scared it won’t be true now.”
What was she talking about? “You were attacked before?” The rage he’d tried to control grew like a fire in his blood. “Casey, what in the hell—”
She jerked away from him and her eyes had flashed wide. “It’s going to come back, isn’t it? I’m the story...just like I thought, and it will all come back again.” She frantically shook her head, then her hand rose to press to her temple. “I didn’t want it back. I worked too hard to bury the truth.”