A door. No, not a door, Monica’s door.
“Damn, not again,” he muttered even as his heart kick-started with a slam into his chest. He jumped from the bed, grabbed his weapon, wrenched the door knob, and was outside of his motel room in five seconds flat.
He saw her instantly. A pale flash of skin darting through the cars. Her gun was up. In pursuit.
Luke choked back the call on his lips. He wouldn’t make a rookie mistake and alert any perp out there. His legs moved fast, as he ate up the distance between them. A light mist began to fall, coating his bare arms and chest.
His eyes scanned the lot, searching for—
Monica spun toward him, her gun up. “Dante!”
He froze. A smart man knew to do that when a woman aimed a gun at his heart.
She blew out a hard breath, and the gun barrel dropped. “He’s here.”
His eyes tracked to the right. Then the left. No starlight or moonlight tonight, not with those clouds sweeping over them. The lights in the lot were dim, and he could only see shadows and hear the fast beat of his own heart. “Where?”
She stepped back, the move jerky. “I–I saw him from my window. He was here. He was, but now—”
Now there were two armed agents standing in an empty lot. Dante cleared his throat. “It was a tough day. Finding the vic like that, hell, it would make anyone edgy.”
Monica growled at him. Really growled. And, yeah, wrong place, wrong time, but that rumble had his blood heating.
Talk about being screwed.
“A man was here.” Her eyes swept the lot as rain began to fall. Harder now, not just a light misting. “He left me one of his damn notes. I saw him. He stood right next to our SUV, and the guy pointed at me.”
Luke’s brows shot up. He headed toward the SUV. No broken windows. The alarm hadn’t sounded. “How’d you know he was even out here?”
“I heard a car door slam.”
But not their door. Not unless the guy had found some way of bypassing the alarm. He glanced back at her room. He could see the faint glow of light through her blinds.
The touch of the rain turned into a sting. He tucked the gun into the back of his sweats. “Let’s get inside. Show me the note and—”
“That’s it?” she demanded, voice low but fierce. “Someone’s watching us, Dante. We can’t just—”
He caught her arm and dragged her close, ignoring the gun. “He might still be here and standing out in the open isn’t my idea of the best plan of action.” Raindrops clung to her lashes. Trailed down her cheeks. Her breath rasped out.
Her t-shirt was wet, clinging to her and…
“Let’s get inside,” he said, his voice rumbling out. If that ass**le was out there, watching them…
Monica gave a grim nod. Her hair curled slightly in the rain. Her eyes—he could still see them so well in the dark.
He kept his hold on her as they walked back to her room. His eyes searched the lot. The rain was going to screw them. If anyone had been at their SUV, well, no prints would be found on the outside of the vehicle now.
They went in silently. The air conditioner whirred with a soft purr, and the cold hit them. She shivered, a long shudder that worked over the length of her body. Luke slammed the door shut behind them, locked it, and tried real hard to keep his eyes on hers. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Her wet hair clung to her. “I already told you. He left me a note.”
Temper spiked his blood, heating his body. “So you ran out there without backup? What the hell, Monica? You know better. You think there’s some perp out there, you get me; you come and get—”
“There wasn’t time,” she spoke grimly. “He got away before. I–I think that was him last night, too. I didn’t want him to get away again.”
But he—whoever he was—had gotten away. “Where’s the note?”
Her gaze shot to the floor. “There. I—shit, I didn’t use gloves when I picked it up before.”
He grabbed a tissue from the desk. Used it to hold the note carefully, just by the left edge. Fuck.
What scares you? Same messy scrawl. Dark ink.
No, that bastard was not coming after her.
She shoved back her hair. Water droplets littered the floor. “He’s watching me,” she said, and there was an odd, tense note in her voice.
She wrapped her arms around her middle. Rocked forward. “He’s bringing me into the game.”
Not gonna happen. Laura’s desperate face flashed in his mind.
And Monica’s blue eyes stared back at him.
No one can see into a killer’s mind like Davenport.
She inched back and carefully put her gun down on the nightstand. “I think he was watching last night. I–I think he knows exactly who we—well, who I am.”
And he thought he was going to play his sick-ass games with her? He opened her kit and sealed the note in an evidence bag. “We’re getting this dusted. Maybe the bastard left a print.”
“Maybe,” she whispered, but he heard the doubt and understood. The killer they were after was too good for that. Too organized. Every move, planned in advance.
“We need to call Hyde. We can switch motels, we can—”
She laughed at that. “If the killer is watching us, he’ll just follow wherever we go. Not like there are a lot of places to choose from in Jasper.”
“We stay on guard, Dante. That’s what we do. We tell the sheriff and we get his deputies to patrol so that we have extra eyes outside. If I see the perp again, I’ll get him.”
“We’ll get him.” He shut the case with a snap and went back to her, closing the distance between them. “New rule. You see anyone—anyone—out there again, you come and get me before you go storming outside.” Luke didn’t want her facing the monsters alone. Not when he’d walk through fire to be by her side.
Monica licked her lips. Her hands came up, pressed against his chest. The touch seemed to burn his flesh. So hot, but her flesh felt so soft and silky. “You should… go get dressed,” she told him, her voice dropping and getting that husky little edge that he’d never been able to forget.
The edge that told him she needed. Wanted. Lusted.
Just like he did.
And Luke realized he was half-dressed, wearing just a pair of jeans. The rain had made her shirt all but transparent. They were wet. Close.
Just as hungry for each other as they’d always been.