She shook her head. “He didn’t request me. A killer did.”
Chapter Two
“Does it bother you that killers want to fuck with you?” Joel’s voice was low and rough. They were back at his place, and the tension pulsing inside of Joel made him feel as if he were about to explode.
But Chloe just sat—all calm and composed—on his couch. Not a hair was out of place. Her clothes weren’t wrinkled. She looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I supposed I’d be more bothered if they wanted to fuck me,” she told him with a small roll of her shoulders, as if the matter was not that important.
Joel stopped his pacing to frown at her. Had she just made a joke? In her deadpan voice? When he was trying to keep his shit together? “Chloe…”
She rose. Strolled toward him. Stopped when they were a foot away. “Why don’t we talk about why you are bothered?”
That was easy. “I’m bothered because some freak with a knife thinks he’s going to play a game with the woman I love!” There. Hell, yes, he’d said it. Dropped the l-word and hadn’t hesitated. He’d been damn well drowning until Chloe burst into his life with the force of a hurricane. He’d given up practicing medicine. He’d left his friends and his home back in Texas. The attack he’d survived had changed him, and Joel hadn’t known what to do with the darkness inside of himself.
He’d been afraid the darkness would erupt. That he would be dangerous to the people around him.
Enter Chloe. She hadn’t cared about his darkness. Some days, he thought the darkness might have been what attracted her to him in the first place.
“Death is never a game.” Her head tilted back as she stared up at him. Her dark hair slid over her shoulders.
“To some psychos, it is. And you know it.” Because she knew so much about killers. “Baby…” He tried to calm down, but it was hard. That scene with Glenn Towers had hit far too close for him. “I couldn’t even count the number of the stab wounds on him.”
“Normally, that many wounds would indicate that the attacker was experiencing a great deal of rage.”
Normally. His hold tightened on her. “Not always. The bastard who carved me up was ice cold.” He didn’t like to go back to that time and place. Why should he? There was no need. Joel had taken care of the sonofabitch who’d attacked him. The freak who’d tortured him before finally burying Joel in the ground.
Chloe’s gaze was tender as it held his. “Sometimes, scenes can be staged for deliberate effect.”
“That’s the second time you’ve used the word ‘staged’ to describe this shit today. First you did it at the dance studio, and now you’re saying the scene with Towers was arranged, too?” Just to make sure he was following along.
“I think both were set, yes.”
“Why?”
Her bright gaze slowly swept over his face. “I don’t know yet.”
He almost didn’t believe her. Almost. But why on earth would Chloe lie to him? “I don’t want you hurt.” The words pulled from him. He knew this whole case was going to get worse before it got better. Day one, and there were two bodies. Two. His heart thudded hard and fast in his chest as his hands smoothed over her arms. “You matter too much to me.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to protect me, isn’t it?”
Damn straight.
“And I’m here to protect you,” she added, the words so soft that he almost didn’t catch them.
He would do anything to protect her. The fact that some mystery killer was trying to fuck with her? It enraged him. A large part of Joel wanted to grab Chloe and run away. Take her someplace safe so that she could never be threatened.
But…that wasn’t Chloe. Chloe didn’t run and hide. She ran to danger. Not away. An issue he was trying to work out with her.
Her hand rose and pressed lightly to his cheek. “It reminded you of your past.”
Of course, she’d noticed the similarities. Even someone who wasn’t as hyperaware as Chloe would have made the connection. But he wasn’t going to talk about his past. Not then. “Why were the shoes there, Chloe? Did the killer want Towers to know that he was going after his stepdaughter next? More torture for the guy before he died?”
Her eyelids flickered.
He caught the small movement. “Chloe…”
“I want to talk to Ruben first.”
Ruben Minote. The medical examiner.
“I don’t want to be wrong,” she continued and her determined tone almost made him smile. No, Chloe didn’t like to be wrong. Ever.
But he still had to push and say, “We’re looking at the same killer for Glenn Towers and Lucia.”
She gave a small, negative shake of her head.
“What?” No, she couldn’t know that. Not yet. And the odds of those two people being attacked by two different perps…
“I need to visit with Ruben. See the bodies again.” She exhaled on a long sigh as her hand dropped away from Joel’s cheek. “But I can’t get inside his lab until tomorrow morning.”
His hands slid to her waist. Tightened. “Don’t even think of cutting me out on this one. Where you go, I go. We’re partners, remember?”
“How could I forget?” She smiled at him.
His gaze lingered on her mouth. Chloe had a beautiful mouth. Plump lips. Sensual. When he was with Chloe, the darkness around him didn’t seem to matter as much. His head lowered toward her. “I don’t want you fucking hurt.”
“I won’t fucking be,” she said right back.
His mouth took hers. Joel tried to be gentle. With Chloe, he wanted his control to stay in place. Lately, he’d found himself worrying that he might do something to scare her. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her. He’d had nothing—no one—of his own for so long. A fear was growing within him. Things with Chloe were so good. Nothing good lasted, did it? What if something happened? What if someone took Chloe away?
Like the freak with the knife who’d carved up Glenn Towers…
“You’re not doing it right,” she chided.
His head jerked back. “What?”
“You’re kissing me, but you’re not thinking about me. That won’t do.” She pulled from his arms. Backed away. “I want all of you, Joel. I won’t settle for less. You know that.”
He swallowed. “Chloe…”
She kicked off her shoes. The small flats that she’d been wearing. Then she curled her hands under the hem of her loose, black top and pulled it over her head. She dropped the shirt on the floor.
His throat went dry. His eyes dropped to her body.
Her hands slid to her waist. A waist he’d held so many times. She unhooked the button on her pants and let the zipper slide down. The pants hit the floor with a soft rustle of sound.
Black panties and a black bra. That was all she wore as she stood before him. So beautiful that she made him ache. So perfect. But…
Delicate. Fragile.
I can’t lose her. No one can hurt Chloe.
Lately, he’d started to have dreams. Nightmares that showed him—