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  She felt paper-thin, absorbed the new aliases too quickly until they drowned her. She was a shell, putting on a new mask, not in a robotic, this will save your life way but more of a why does it matter because Claire Cooper was never anyone special. She was simply notorious.

  Granted, in this day and age, that seemed to be enough to get you through the door, with fame and fortune often to follow.

  She put her head down and fell asleep, more stress than anything. She must’ve slept more heavily than she’d thought, woke to headlights shining in her window for a long moment until they cut off. She fumbled for the alarm and realized it hadn’t gone off. Dammit.

  A knock on the door made her freeze.

  Probably just the manager. Or housekeeping.

  She moved noiselessly to the door and peeked out. Her knees nearly gave way from surprise, even though they shouldn’t have when she heard Teige demand calmly, “Open the door or I’ll break it down to make sure you’re safe.”

  He knew. Everything. Concern and anger mixed in his tone, and she backed away and grabbed her stuff. The bathroom had a window she could crawl out of.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She’d made it to the bathroom door when Teige’s voice came up from directly behind her; she panicked, went to draw her gun on him but he was too close.

  He stopped her arm easily with a hand locked on her wrist. “Don’t, Kayla.”

  “Just let me go.”

  “Why are you running?”

  “I’m paid up on my rent. If Mrs. Mueller wants more—”

  “That’s not the reason I’m standing here.” The cheap neon lights flashed through the window, splaying across his face.

  He wasn’t mad and that didn’t make any sense at all. “Then why are you here?”

  He wore all black tonight, and he looked predatory. In charge. His body filled the empty space, “You’re coming home.”

  “That’s not home.”

  “You said it felt like it to you.”

  “I lied.”

  “You’re lying now.” He bent his head down to whisper that last line to her.

  “You know.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t tear his gaze away. “Abby’s with me.”

  She blinked in surprise. “The marshal’s got you involved?”

  Now it was his turn to hesitate. He frowned a little when he said, “She’s my sister.”

  She wasn’t sure exactly how betrayed to feel about that. “Did she use petty cash to pay you to sleep with her witness or is this government-funded?”

  He blinked, obviously insulted, but hell, that made two of them.

  The old Claire was going to come out sooner or later—rebellious, strong, not giving a shit. Granted, she’d been going down the wrong path in life with boys and drugs and maybe she’d never been in control, but maybe that was part of the fun.

  “Abby didn’t tell me shit until you went missing, but I’d always suspected something. How could I not? I’m a suspicious bastard.”

  “If you know everything, then you should be letting me go. I’m too dangerous.”

  “No—you’re in danger. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “But you won’t be. I won’t put anyone else’s life in danger.”

  “I signed up for it,” Abby said quietly from the doorway. “I knew, Kayla.”

  “Claire, please. Cards on the table here. This is the end of the line. No more pretending.”

  “I’m not,” Abby said simply, and then she walked out of the room, leaving Teige to echo, “I’m not either.”

  Kayla pleaded, “You can’t protect me. No one can.”

  “I’m not just anyone, Kayla. You trust me on that.”

  “You lied about having a job,” she said, and he didn’t deny it. “You just needed to get away from me.”

  “I needed to get away from me. I thought you might be the first woman to ever understand that.”

  She did, dammit. She was, although she refused to admit it. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “You owe me—you were supposed to watch Hanny.”

  “I left her in good hands. I’d never let anything happen to her.”

  “I don’t trust her to just anyone—you have to know that.” He took her into his arms them, cupped a hand under her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes. “No one is getting past me, Kayla. I can promise you that.”

  She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t. “I can’t go back.”

  “But I want you to come back. And you’ll stay with me.”

  “She’ll kill you. I know how she works.”

  “No faith in me?” He wasn’t begging—that wasn’t in him—but goddamned, his heart had nearly ripped from his chest when she’d gone. Having her back now, smelling the sweet fruity scent of her shampoo, seeing the scatter of freckles under her nose made him want to gather her and never let go, no matter what her wishes were. “If you don’t want to come back to me—”

  “I do, Teige.”

  “Come home.”

  “I don’t have a home.”

  “You don’t want one. If you did, you’d fight for it.”

  “And make innocents my casualties?”

  “I don’t see anyone innocent standing in this room.” He took up all the space around her—all the air, all her desire pulled to him. “Come back with me.”

  “I got the last marshal killed.”

  “Unless you shot him, you didn’t.”

  “Everyone thinks I’m guilty.”

  “Are you?”

  She stared at him. “I don’t know.”

  “Sometimes, you have to take a stand.”

  “I’m terrified,” she admitted.

  “Fear’s not a bad thing in most situations,” he told her. “Confidence will kill you. Fear keeps you on your toes.”

  She’d never thought of it like that.

  “What scares you most, Kayla?”

  He’d asked, point blank, his jungle-green eyes never unlocking from hers.

  She swallowed, wanted to say, “Everything” but instead she told him, “You.”

  He nodded, cupped her face for a second and said, “Pack and stow your baggage, princess. I’m going to kiss you now.”

  And he did, his mouth covering hers, reminding her of why she hadn’t wanted to leave him in the first place. His tongue dueled with hers, hotly demanding as her body surged with arousal. His hand cupped the back of her neck, and she ended up grabbing both his biceps—for support, and to make sure he didn’t stop kissing her too soon.

  She groaned into his mouth when his free hand caressed her nipple through her shirt and yes, she was done for. She would go back with him.

  When he pulled back, she let him, if for no other reason than she was afraid she’d start tearing off his clothes immediately.

  She blinked, hard. “I couldn’t tell you before.”

  “I know how WITSEC works. I get it.” He bent down then and he kissed her, until the resistance left her, until she knew she didn’t want to live without Teige’s arms around her, his mouth on hers…never wanted to forget the way he murmured her name after they’d made love.

  This was a man who’d seen it all and was still willing to walk through the fire with her. Could she live with herself if something happened to him?

  Could she live without him if she left? It was a no-win situation, the exact kind Mara seemed to love putting her in. And suddenly, instead of the fear, she was angry at her—furious, actually, at the way Mara had been manipulating her.

  “I’ll go back with you,” she told him firmly. “And the next time I see Mara—”

  “You won’t be alone,” Teige promised.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  On the ride back, Teige drove Kayla’s truck with Abby escorting them along the highway. Kayla was mostly silent, and Teige figured she’d fallen asleep, until she said, “Abby told me…about your father. How he died.”

  Teige nodded tightly. “He was murdered by the serial kill
er he hunted for ten years. And he almost killed Abby too. She’s a survivor.”

  “She told me when she was mad at me for feeling sorry for myself,” Kayla practically whispered. “I deserved it.”

  He reached out and squeezed her thigh and she grabbed his hand. They rested elbows on the middle console, fingers entwined. “You’ve both been through hell. She’s come out the other side.”

  “And now I’m bringing her back in.”

  “She did that to herself, Kayla.”

  “I’m sure you tried to talk her out of it.”

  “More times than I can count. And she listened, until now. She was close to Hoss,” Teige told her.

  “Can I…ask you about your father? That case?”

  Teige nodded, his insides feeling strangely hollow at the thought. But if it helped Kayla, if it got her to talk… “What do you want to know?”

  “I can’t remember much of anything before my parents died in the fire when I was eight. I don’t even remember the fire—I’ve got this giant hole in my life that Mara would fill in, but her words never jarred anything.” She shook her head. “Does Abby remember everything about her attack? Do you?”

  “Abby remembers everything, including the night she was attacked,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there for that. I wish to hell I’d been.” He paused, tightened his hands on the wheel before pushing through the memories and continuing. “I was ten when he first got on the case. The Black Magic Killer was pretty big news, but Abby and I were kept sheltered from it. And at first, the killings were pretty slow and disorganized. It wasn’t until about four years into it that he organized himself and they knew they had a tried-and-true serial killer on their hands. And then, there was the cat and mouse game they began to play.”

  “Your dad and the killer?”

  “Yes. There was contact, in the form of calls and notes. And dad started working crazy hours. He barely came home and when he did, he wasn’t himself. After a certain point, it became impossible to shield me or Abby, because the killer began to threaten us, telling Dad that we were next.” He heard her gasp a little. “So I remember being worried. All the time. But I’m not sure worried’s the right word. More like…”

  “High alert?” she suggested.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Can’t ever turn off. You might as well be doing the hunting.” He paused. “I know you’re worried that you’re like Mara. I’ve got to tell you, profilers are much closer to Mara, to being like her, than you are.”

  He turned to see her staring at him. “That’s both comforting and horrifying.”

  “My father was consumed by it, so we became the same way. Practically drowned in it,” he told her. “It got to the point where he didn’t think of anything else, because we were never, ever safe.”

  “I know the feeling,” she muttered as he pulled her truck into her driveway. Abby had pulled into Teige’s driveway, and headed inside. Teige didn’t doubt she’d sneak out the back and head into Kayla’s house to clear it.

  He turned and ran his knuckles along Kayla’s cheek. “I know, babe—you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re consumed by Mara’s life. And you want to work on security instead of other things.”

  “I know when she’s going to kill, Teige. Do you know what that’s like? Knowing and being unable to do anything about it?”

  “Yeah, I can imagine. But instead of focusing on what you can’t do about that, you need to focus on how you can help. You’ve got to put yourself back there now. Gotta think about your past.”

  “I’ve never stopped.”

  “You have. All you think about is surface shit. You won’t let yourself remember. But if you want to save your life…if you really want to know what Mara’s talking about, why she’s so mad at you…you know you have to get that memory back any way you can.”

  He was right. She hated him for it, but if she allowed herself to go back there… “I’ll drown.”

  “I won’t let you,” he said firmly, the strong hand laced in hers a symbol of that promise. “I won’t let go.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.”

  “It could get so ugly.”

  “That doesn’t scare me, Kayla. The thought of doing nothing is the only thing that does.”

  After he spoke, his phone rang—Abby, still inside Kayla’s house. He’d seen her walk across the driveway from his into Kayla’s.

  “Both houses are clear,” she confirmed now. “I’ll stay at Kayla’s tonight.”

  “Good idea.” He glanced at Kayla. “Kayla will stay with me.”

  “I figured as much. Send her into her house and meet her in the back.” She didn’t have to add, In case we’re being watched. All of them were acutely aware of that possibility, no one more so than Kayla. She was fidgeting now, attempting to not appear nervous, which made her seem more so. “Head into your house. Abby’s there—I’ll meet you around back and bring you over to mine.”

  “And then Abby—”

  “Will be doing her job,” he finished.

  “She’s going to be in trouble,” she whispered.

  “I doubt it, but let’s not attempt to make her job even harder,” he reasoned. At that, she nodded and got out of her car.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After secreting Kayla into Teige’s, Abby left Teige and Kayla alone. It was mainly in the hopes that Teige could get Kayla to stop thinking about running.

  At this point, Kayla wasn’t the only one in danger. Mara had already killed one marshal to prove a point to Kayla…now Abby had herself and her brother on the firing line.

  Reluctantly, she did what she’d been putting off and dialed Jacoby’s number. “Did I wake you?”

  Jacoby’s voice was graveled but no less sarcastic when he answered, “It’s four fucking a.m. and you’ve been MIA. Do you think I sleep when my partner and my witness are missing?”

  It was fury, not sleep, keeping his voice tight and rough. Her stomach churned. She took a deep breath and said, “The diner?” because she didn’t want him to meet her here.

  “In ten, Abby. I’m not fucking kidding.” He hung up and she started driving, not sure if she was more angry with his attitude or her own fuck up.

  I got Kayla back. Things are under control. This was my goddamned case first. All those phrases repeated themselves in her mind over and over as she attempted to justify why she ignored twenty-plus calls from him.

  She was lucky he hadn’t involved the state police or worse—their supervisor. But luck wasn’t the first word that came to mind when she pulled into the diner’s parking lot and saw Jacoby waiting for her by the front door. His stance was casual but his expression was rigid.

  Shit. She got out, phone in hand and walked past him into the diner. She could feel his fury, but he’d picked a public place for them to meet, which she hoped meant he wanted to keep it together.

  She picked a back booth—the diner was relatively empty—and he slid in across from her. And then he waited until both of them had ordered and the coffee had been served before saying, “Thanks for checking in. Been covering both our asses, which would’ve been easier to do if I’d known what the fuck was happening.”

  “I didn’t want both of us getting in trouble,” she reasoned.

  He tilted his head and stared at her. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been distracted. Spending too much time profiling and not enough covering this witness.”

  “Bullshit. You don’t profile—you hate it. But you didn’t mind pulling your brother into the mix.” His tone was neutral, controlled, but his eyes flashed with the accusation. “Last I checked, Teige wasn’t in the FBI or the marshals in any way, shape or form. Unless Lissner knows something I don’t?”

  “Carl knows I put Kayla next to Teige.”

  “Does he know you were pulling Teige into the case?”

  “That wasn’t my plan—”

  “Does he know about last night?�
�

  “Not unless you told him.”

  “Give me a goddamned reason not to, Abby,” he challenged. “Because right now, I don’t think you belong on this case. Probably never did.”

  Resisting the urge to begin with “Fuck you,” she shot back, “So what, you’re taking me off the case? You don’t have that authority. Nothing I did made Kayla leave. You were supposed to be watching her, the same way I was. She gave no indication she’d bolt, and I got her back.”

  “You and your brother. Who, at the risk of sounding repetitive, last time I looked, wasn’t on this case.”

  “With his background, his exemplary record, he’s a hero. And he is again.”

  “Because without him, you’d never have found Kayla?” he asked.

  “I tracked her from day one with a GPS.”

  “And if she hadn’t taken her truck, you’d have been screwed.” When she winced, he jabbed a finger toward her. “This kind of shit makes you look incompetent, whether you are or not. For the record, I don’t think you are, but this case is way to close to your past for anyone’s comfort.”

  She knew it. There was no way she wasn’t being monitored on this one. “Who are you, Jacoby? Really? I’ll drop the bullshit if you do too.”

  “I don’t owe you shit,” he muttered. He fisted his hands on the table in front of him, like he was having some kind of internal debate and finally, he murmured, “Profiler.”

  Profiler. Which was much different than being a US Marshal. “So you’re not a marshal.”

  “I’m whoever I say I am—that’s all you need to know.”

  “I won’t say anything to anyone. It’s just…are you with the FBI?”

  “Yes. And the rest of it’s a long, complicated story, and one I’m not getting into at the moment.”

  “So everyone else but me knows who you are—”

  “Not everyone. I’m not a celebrity.”

  “To the FBI, you must be,” she muttered almost disapprovingly, which made him grin. A little. “So they sent in a superstar to help poor little me. Because they don’t think I can handle it.”