Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(19)

Alive.

And just how was she supposed to hold out against that? Against him?

Because she could spout bullshit with the best of them, but the reality was she wanted back in his bed. She’d missed him, dreamed about him, and just—

Wanted.

She wouldn’t kid herself. An explosion was coming. If he hadn’t left when he did—

Luke had always been so good at working past her defenses.

Monica pulled off her shirt and headed toward the shower. Goose bumps were on her flesh, and she was so tired of feeling cold. Just so tired.

She wanted to feel—

Lust. Heat. Need. Passion.

Alive.

She wrenched on the hot water.

Damn him.





CHAPTER Five


Monica woke with a scream on her lips. Her heart raced, the thud filling her ears, even as she reached for the gun she’d learned to keep close.

Closer than any lover.

Her fingers curled around the cold butt of the weapon. Her grip wasn’t steady. No, her hand shook too much for that.

Nightmare. Memory?

Sometimes, she just couldn’t tell.

The faint light from the bathroom spilled toward her. A beacon. She stared at that light, stared until the trembling stopped and she could breathe without feeling like a fist was pounding against her chest.

But she didn’t lower the gun. Not yet.

Trapped in that coffin. No room to move. Darkness all around.

Monica knew to fear the dark, too.

Trapped.

That damn fist was back. Pounding, pounding…

A car door slammed.

Her head snapped to the right, toward the blinds that covered her only window.

Instinct had her moving from the bed. She spared the briefest of glances toward the clock. Three a.m.

She lowered her weapon and used her left hand to part the blinds, moving them just enough to see into the parking lot.

Probably some late night truck driver. A traveler who couldn’t go any farther or—

A man stood in the darkness near her and Dante’s SUV. The man wore a sweatshirt, one with a hood pulled up high to shield half his face.

She couldn’t tell for certain, not with the darkness, but the guy seemed to be looking straight at her room.

No, straight at her.

The light from the bathroom—was it showing her silhouette? Oh, hell. She shifted a bit to the right and her bare feet brushed against something.

Monica glanced down and saw a small scrap of white paper. Her brows pulled together and she bent, reaching down. She hadn’t noticed that before, but she’d been tired and—

What scares you?

Dammit! The note fell from her fingers, and she shot back up to her feet. Her hand slammed against the blinds, parting a big hole so she could see… him. Still there.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. He lifted his hand and yes, the guy pointed straight at her. Then he whirled away, and started moving fast, running, zigzagging through the parked cars.

Hell, no. Monica yanked on a pair of sweats, screwed the shoes, clutched her gun tighter and wrenched open her door.

She knew how the games were played.

Into the minds of monsters.

The only place she could go.


Luke shot up in bed. The image of a dead woman still floated in his mind. What was—

A door. No, not a door, Monica’s door.

Slamming shut.

“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.