When he guards, p.13
When He Guards, page 13
There was no gun inside the top drawer. Or in the second, bottom drawer, either.
“Looking for this, sunshine?”
Her head whipped toward Cass.
He had her gun in his hand.
Her breath seemed to freeze in her chest.
He blinked, then frowned at her. “Why in the hell are you staring at me like that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” And how am I looking at you? Like I’m scared? Like I think you’re my enemy? She tried to school her features. Normally, Agnes had way better control of her expression. This just was not a normal situation. She also had not had coffee, so…yes, not normal. He has the cobra tattoo. He has my weapon. Has he been playing me all along? Agnes swallowed. “Maybe I’m a little…off because you’re pointing my gun at me—”
“I’m not pointing it at you.”
“—and because you’re the enemy.”
His teeth snapped together. He’d been standing about five feet away from her, but at that one word…enemy…he immediately stalked back to the bed. Still holding her gun.
Her chin notched up. Fine. So she didn’t have a weapon. She could still fight like hell, so if he thought she’d be an easy target, the man was dead wrong.
“What is it that you think I am going to do to you?” Cass demanded. Then he slapped the gun down on top of the nightstand. “I told you before…I will never hurt you.”
Her breath heaved out, but she remained tense. She also decided to jump out of the bed because staying there didn’t seem like the best idea. Her hand automatically went for her gun.
He made no move to stop her.
The weight of her weapon was reassuring and…
She frowned. Then checked it. “What in the hell?”
“There aren’t any bullets in your gun right now. Figured that it might not be the best plan ever to give you a loaded weapon to point at me while you are still pissed.” He sucked the inside of his cheek. “And you’re clearly pissed at me.”
He had no idea how truly pissed she currently felt. “You lied to me.”
“Sweetheart, I lie to everyone. You’re not special.”
And that hurt. His brutal words slammed right into her heart. They hurt far, far more than they should have.
She backed up. Bumped into the side of the bed.
A frown pulled at his dark eyebrows. “What is it?” His hand lifted, as if he’d touch her.
She dodged his touch. “I need a shower. I need to brush my teeth.” Desperately. “And I need coffee. A boatload of it.”
“I…” Cass stopped. Pressed his lips together. “I…upset you.”
“Give the man a giant cookie. Yes, yes, you did upset me. Hey, pro tip, don’t tell the woman you fucked into near blackout bliss that she is not special. Think it, sure, whatever.” Jerk. “But don’t say the actual words. Not cool. Total dick move, in fact.” She’d spied an open door that led to what she thought-slash-hoped was the bathroom. Fantastic.
“You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
She rolled her eyes at the absolute jerk. “Best fuck, not special, check. A body in the dark. Got it. Look, buddy, you are doing yourself zero favors here with me. You should probably stop while you are already fifty paces behind where you need to be.”
“Agnes.”
“Cass.”
His breath heaved out. “I meant…” Gritted. Snapped. “I spend most of my days lying to people. It’s who I am. I am a liar. I am a criminal. I am a thief. I am a killer.”
“And you have the tats to prove that, don’t you?” As if she didn’t know all the tats on his body held different meanings. I am a killer. She wasn’t rolling her eyes any longer. She was staring dead at him. She still gripped the gun. The gun that didn’t have any bullets in it.
His square jaw tightened. “The snake tattoo is what makes you so angry.”
Was he serious? “I was twenty-one years old,” she snapped at him. She wasn’t pissed. She was so furious that her whole body practically vibrated. And if she had not been so exhausted when they arrived at this—this safe house, then she would have given him hell sooner. But she was awake now, and it was time for that hell to be given in full force. “A bastard who was part of your Twin Cobras—he stalked me and my fiancé—”
“Fiancé?”
“Max had just asked me to marry him. We were going to have a beautiful life.” She stopped. Huffed out a breath. The pain was just so strong that she huffed out the breath as she tried to push the ache from her body. But it was an ache that never left. “We had a beautiful life.” A careful correction. “Had one. Our time together was beautiful. It was just way too short. I should have been with him forever. I should have loved him forever.”
Cass took a step back. His expression had turned into a granite mask. No emotion showed.
“But I didn’t have forever with Max. I lost my forever one dark night when a man with a Twin Cobra tattoo on his wrist thought it was fun to terrorize us. Max jumped in front of me, but Max—he didn’t know how to fight. Certainly not how to kill.” Max hadn’t even been on the football team in high school. He’d been in the band. The drum major. She’d gone to every game and cheered wildly for him, though, as if he’d been the star quarterback. “He didn’t know about violence. Killing was not in his nature.”
“I know how to kill.” Dark. As dark as his expression. As dark as his eyes. “That’s my specialty.”
She barely heard him. “Max was going to be a doctor. He was going to save lives. But that bastard took his life. Just attacked Max so that he could get to me.” She pressed her left hand to her stomach. “Seven times. I felt every stab. I was on the ground, and Max was beside me, and that monster just—he slit Max’s throat in front of me. I knew Max was dying, and there was nothing I could do, and I prayed that I would die, too.”
“Agnes.”
She had never admitted that stark truth to anyone—that she wanted to die. She’d kept the painful secret. She hadn’t told her brothers. Not her shrink. “I didn’t die. I woke up in the hospital.” Without Max. With stitches in her that had turned into scars that were constant reminders of the worst night of her life. “I woke up, and the thing that kept me going after I buried Max was that I knew that I had a purpose.”
Cass waited.
Her purpose… “To find him. To kill him.”
Cass’s gaze searched her face. “And that’s when you became an FBI agent.”
A mocking laugh. As if it had been that easy. “Not like you flip a switch and get accepted into the Bureau. I finished my degree first. Started self-defense training. Learned everything I could about criminal psychology, crime scenes, evidence collection….” Agnes released a long exhale as she tried to steady herself. “And then I got my ass in the FBI.”
“You got on Gray’s team.”
A negative shake of her head. “Not right away. That took time. I started at the bottom. I learned and I grew. I worked my way through the ranks. I quickly discovered the world was full of monsters. So many more monsters than everyday people realize.” And that was why she’d fought so hard to get on Gray’s team. Because he understood monsters. “They are the worst kinds of predators, and someone has to stop them.”
“You’re that someone.”
“I might not look overly intimidating.” A twisted smile curved her lips. “But it’s better for my enemies to underestimate me that way.”
His stare did not waver. “I will never underestimate you again.”
“But you are my enemy.” Something he had not denied. Why not? Just deny it. Please.
He stepped closer to her. Still did not touch her. “I do not want to be your enemy.”
“I told you about the tattoo, and, in response, you told me that I was trying to get you to kill the boogeyman. Like the Twin Cobras weren’t real when you were sporting one of their tattoos on your back!” The betrayal gutted Agnes.
His eyes glittered at her. “We were interrupted during that conversation. I seem to recall a jackass breaking into our motel room and shooting at us.”
“Shooting at me,” she corrected. “I was the one in the bed. You were the one on the floor.”
“The prick didn’t know that, Agnes. He was shooting at us.” Cass’s hand rose. His fingers skimmed against her cheek. Rough calluses. Power held in check. “I’ll do it.”
His touch seemed to burn her skin. “You’ll do what?”
“I’ll kill the boogeyman for you.”
“I don’t need you to kill him.” Was he listening at all? “I’ll do it.” She would make the kill with no hesitation. “I just need you to help me find the bastard! I never saw his face. He kept his stupid visor on when he was near me. I saw the tat on his wrist. He turned away, when he was sure I was gonna bleed out and die next to Max, and the man made a damn phone call. He flipped up the visor as he walked away, and he was bragging about getting a redhead. He attacked me because of the color of my hair!” Tears filled her eyes. She could feel them, and they made her angrier. “Is that the shit that your group does? You go out and attack people like it’s some kind of game? What in the hell did you have to do in order to get in that freaking club?” She had the gun between them now. She’d lifted it up, and it pressed to his stomach.
Cass glanced down. “This would be why I took out the bullets.”
“I’m not shooting you! I’m not the monster!” Or, wait, was she? Sometimes, Agnes wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, she didn’t know who—or what—she’d become. “You lie to everyone,” she breathed. “Why? I don’t want lies from you. I want the stark truth. I sided with you. I turned my back on the FBI to be here with you—”
“All for show,” he cut through her words to say.
A tear leaked down her cheek. “The hell it is for show. I am here because there will be no going back.” Gray had guessed at her intention. He’d warned her that, sometimes, you just couldn’t go back. Not when you crossed certain lines. “I’m getting my justice.” One way or another.
“I will do it for you.” He wiped away the tear.
“You’re one of them.”
And…
Something broke on his face. In his eyes. “The fuck I am!” Cass rasped. His shoulders heaved. “I’m breaking them the hell apart. They are my last mission. The final takedown. You think it was easy getting inside? You think I was gonna play their games? I don’t hurt innocents. Not fucking ever. So to get their attention, to get in with the bastards who are fucking serial killers playing some kind of game as they zig-zag across the US, hell, yes, I had to do bad things. So I took out bad people. I made my own rules. I tracked the SOBs, and I am within range. I am eliminating them.”
“Serial killers? No.” She shook her head. No, he was mistaken. “They are killers, yes, but not serials—”
“It’s not all the Twins. Not all the members, I mean. Don’t you see that? It’s two. Two at the top of the hierarchy of the Twins. Two sadistic pricks playing a game. Two killers.”
Her life—Max’s life—had not been a game.
“Two heads. Two monsters.” Rage rumbled in his voice. “You have to cut them both off to kill the beast. A pair of killers. It was hard to notice the patterns because they are spread across the country. I came across one of the matched kills by accident. Local cops were thinking it was a robbery gone wrong. It was not. It was deliberate. a matched set of victims over one thousand miles apart.”
The drumming of her heartbeat was far too loud. Betrayal burned viciously inside of her. All the time that she’d been chafing, wanting so desperately to find the monster from her past—had Gray been deliberately misleading her? Why? “How many victims?”
“I don’t know.” His mouth tightened. “But if I’m right, the game has been going on for a very, very long time so…a lot.”
Her breath came faster.
“You said the man who attacked you made a call. He told his partner who he’d targeted, and…I’m betting his partner then killed a woman who looked just like you. Probably a woman and a man since they took out your fiancé.”
Max’s blood, pooling toward me.
“They hunt in pairs. That’s what they always do. Every six months, from what I have been able to piece together. Only their kills are all over the US. It makes it hard for authorities to figure out what the hell is going on and to connect the attacks. They are everywhere because they are on their motorcycles. They go wherever the hell they want. They travel, and they hunt. Always twin kills.”
“No.” Another shake of her head. “They aren’t serials.” He was wrong on this. Wasn’t he? “We hunt serials at the FBI. Gray—That’s Gray’s specialty. He would have told me. He would have said something to me if he thought the perp was a serial killer.” They’d built a profile, but Gray had never said anything about the perp being the rare breed of predator that counted as a serial.
He’d also certainly never mentioned that he thought it was a serial killing pair. Talk about the rarest monsters out there.
Cass just stared at her.
She…she squeezed her eyes shut. “Gray would have told me.”
“Not if he is protecting you because you aren’t just a Fed…you’re a victim.”
She didn’t want to be a victim. “I don’t need protecting.” She needed for the perp who’d hurt her to be punished. She needed for the crimes to stop.
“And maybe he wouldn’t tell you because…” A soft sigh. “He has a man deep inside. Someone who is working the damn case.”
Breathing was too hard. Cass was working the case…that was why he had the tattoo. He was taking down the Twins.
“He didn’t tell me about you, Agnes. I had no idea why this mess was so freaking personal to him. I just knew—hell, I was working my own agenda. I’ve been doing it for years. The Twins weren’t on my radar, not until I came across that first matched set. Then Gray started asking questions that got me to dig even deeper into them. And once I did that digging, I knew I wasn’t gonna let those bastards roam free. Not once they made it on my list.”
Goosebumps rose onto her arms. “What list?”
“Aw, sweetness, you really think you’re the only one with a kill list? That is so precious.” His hand fell away from her cheek. “Go take your shower. I’ll find some coffee. Then we have to talk about our agenda items.”
Item one on her agenda was getting her boss on the phone and potentially ripping him a new one. Betrayal burned through her. Gray had known, he’d known how badly she wanted her justice, and he’d misled her. Lied to her.
She felt another teardrop slide down her cheek. Her eyes remained closed.
“Dammit, stop doing that.” His fingers were back on her cheek. Brushing away the tear. Catching it? “I don’t like it, and I want you to stop right now. Do you hear me? Now.”
Her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened. More teardrops fell down her cheeks. “I’m not a faucet. I don’t just turn on and off.”
He brushed aside—caught—more of her teardrops. And looked increasingly haggard. Which was odd.
“I don’t like them,” he growled.
Another leaked out. “I don’t care. I just found out my boss has been keeping secrets from me, lying to me. He point-blank told me that no agents get undercover with the Twins. That it doesn’t happen. That he’s tried to get people in, and they vanish. Or else they’re found cut up in little pieces. He even told me this tale about the Twins blowing things up. Obliterating people.” Her heart ached. She’d trusted Gray. Completely. “But here you are. You’re not in pieces.”
“Yeah, and hopefully, I won’t be.” His thumb brushed under her right eye. “But I’m not an agent undercover. I told you before, I am not undercover. What you see is what you get.”
“Liar.” Almost a caress. “You lie to everyone, remember? I’m not special.”
He stepped back. Stopped touching her. “Unfortunately, I think you may fucking be.”
“Be still my heart,” she huffed.
He swung away. Her gaze immediately fell on his broad back. The two-headed snake. Her stomach twisted.
With fast, angry steps, Cass advanced toward a heavy, wooden chest of drawers. He yanked open the top drawer and hauled out a black t-shirt. He wrenched it over his head and covered all the tats on his back. His head turned toward her as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Take as long of a shower as you want. There is a bag of clothes in the bathroom—should be stuff in there to fit you.”
She blinked. “You have clothes for me?” Since when? And how?
“I made arrangements for some items to be here waiting when we arrived last night. Something else you don’t remember.” An exhale. “They were on the porch. I grabbed them when I carried you in. Should be the right sizes.”
“Who in the world did you get to buy clothes for me?” And how had he known her sizes? Had Gray told him?
“Clothes, shoes, underwear. Makeup, too. Whatever you need is in there.”
“How?”
Now he shifted toward her. “Haven’t you heard?” Mocking. “I’m the leader of the Night Strikers. When I snap my fingers…” He snapped his fingers. “Shit gets done.”
Uh, huh. “Is that supposed to be reassuring or threatening?” Because it definitely seemed to be a bit of both.
His hand dropped. “I’m not threatening you. I told you before, and I’ll say it again, I will never hurt you.”
“Because you don’t hurt innocents.” She put the gun down on the bed. She’d been holding the weapon the entire time. As if it would have done her any good without bullets. As if I could have shot him. “I’m not innocent.”
“Yeah, I know. But you are mine.”
His… No, she was pretending to be his.
He’d whirled away once more and was heading for the door. He hauled it open.
“I’m pretending to be yours,” she clarified. Because it seemed like an important clarification to note.
