Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(20)

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 * 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.”

True, but…

“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.

An inch, maybe two, separated their lips. He wanted to close that distance and take her mouth. To plunge his tongue deep inside and taste her.

But he’d already crossed the line with her once. His hands fisted. She’d made it clear what she wanted, and what she didn’t want. No sex. No emotions. Just business.

He closed his eyes. Lust had his cock twitching, rising and swelling, and she was so close.

Too close.

He spun away from her. “Stay inside,” he ordered, his eyes opening. “When I come back, we’ll take that note in.”

“You were right about me. Us. I didn’t want to remember, but—” Her voice, so soft, froze him. He had to strain to make out the words.

He glanced back. Big mistake. Monica’s head was tilted to the right. Her eyes were narrowed on him.

“Remember what?” Because he’d never had a problem remembering what it was like to be with her. To touch her and taste her and see the pleasure wash over her face.