And she wanted more.

She’d have more.

Luke slowly lifted his lips away from hers. “Something you should know,” he managed, voice rough.

She shook her head. No, now wasn’t the time for more secrets. If he had dark deeds from his past, she wanted to hear them when they were fully alone, not there, with the chime of phones piercing the walls and the muffle of voices coming—

“For the record, hell, yeah, I’ll give us a chance when this case is over, because there’s no way I’m letting you get away again.”

Her heart stopped.

“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he told her. His lips were close. Full and sexy and she wanted them back on her mouth.

But she wanted him to keep talking. Because he was giving her hope. Finally, hope.

“I’d walk through hell for you, but I won’t walk away from you, not again.” Another kiss. Hard and fierce, and she parted her lips and took his tongue and sucked and tasted.

Lust.

Love.

Luke.

Hers. Finally, hers. A man who could handle her past and make her fight for a future. Her hands curled over his shoulders. Broad, strong shoulders.

The thud of approaching footsteps reached her ears. Coming closer, closer.

Right on time.

She held the kiss a moment longer. She’d savor this. Savor him, before the world tried to take him away.

When the knock came at the door, she didn’t move. Not yet.

But Luke did. “Can I tell ’em to f**k off?”

If only.

“You have your backup gun with you, right?” She’d seen him take it out this morning. He hadn’t worn it until Sam’s disappearance, but all the agents were taking extra precautions now.

They needed to.

His brow furrowed. “Yeah, but—”

“We’re going to need it.” Because she knew a lie when she saw one. “Stay on guard,” she whispered. “Always.”

Then she left him and opened the door.

Deputy Vance Monroe stood in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. “A-Agent Davenport, we need to talk.”

Because he’d been lying to her.

“Come inside.”

His stare darted to Luke. “Can we—can we talk alone?”

She didn’t have to look at Luke to know he’d tensed. Not going to happen. “Luke’s my partner on this case. Whatever you can tell me, you can tell him.”

Vance’s bony hands clenched into fists. “You—you’ll bring him in alive, won’t you?”

He knew where Lee was. She’d been certain of that. Monica had just waited for him to break. “I’ll do my best.”

His throat worked. “I just… he couldn’t have done it. I’m sure it’s just…”

“Where is he?” Luke asked.

“I-I can show you. You’ll never find it on your own. An old hunting cabin near the river. Broken down, but Lee took me there a few times.” He swallowed again and the rasp of his breath was loud and painful. “Said he liked to go out there to get away. It used to be his old man’s place.”

“You should have told us sooner,” Monica said. “We’ve lost valuable time.”

“I didn’t want…” His hands slowly unclasped. “I don’t want this to turn into a freak show with the media and everything, okay? I thought he’d be back. When he needs to cool off, he always goes there, but I thought he’d be back.”

But the hours were ticking by, and there was no sign of Lee.

Luke’s gaze stayed on the deputy. “How many people know about that cabin?”

“Not many. It’s far back in the woods, pretty secluded.”

Perfect hiding spot.

“Just come with me,” Vance entreated. “If he’s there, I can bring him in. I know it, he’s my friend.”

Now she met Luke’s eyes and, after a moment, he gave a slow nod.

“All right, Deputy.” She exhaled and felt the reassuring weight of her backup gun against her left ankle. “It’s your show, but if he comes out armed, all bets are off.”

She heard the click of his swallow and the quick utter of his prayer.

Come out easy.

What they always told the killers. But so often…

They came out fighting.

“Let me get the sheriff,” she said.

But Vance shook his head. “If he did this…” The guy’s skin paled even more. “If he sees the sheriff and all the deputies coming after him, I-I’m afraid of what he’ll do.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he said, “His old man ate his gun. I don’t want him to do the same.”

Kenton glared at the computer screen. The connection at this place was shit. He needed the files yesterday, and it was taking three minutes just for one page to load.

He wanted the autopsy records on Kyle West. Needed them. The sooner he could—

The light scent of lavender wrapped around him. “I’ve got my new phone,” Monica whispered against his ear, her breath feathering over him.

Every muscle in his body tensed. What the—

Then she was gone.

He blinked and swiveled around. Monica was heading for the door, Dante close behind her. Yeah, what else was new? Lucky bastard wouldn’t let her get far.

But… her phone?

The door swung closed behind her.

Hyde had brought Monica a new cell phone when he came down. The tech guys had torn apart her other one while they tried to track the Watchman.

Watchman. Fucking stupid name. Who’d come up with that brilliant tag?

He glanced back at the computer. The page had finally loaded on the screen in front of him.

But Kenton didn’t really care. I’ve got my new phone. He whipped out his own cell and called SSD. Ramirez should be riding desk today, doing grunt work on the case and—

“Yo.” Ramirez never bothered with ID’ing himself.

“What’s special about Monica Davenport’s new phone?”

“Uh, wanna run that by me again?”

He held on tight to his patience. If Sam were in the central office, she would have already given him the info. “I need you to check for me—find out if Monica’s new phone has a tracer.” A hunch. Because Monica’s moves were always so precise. Why tell him about the phone? Why—

A hum of sound. Then jazzy elevator music in his ears. Oh, crap, anything but—

“Got a tracer.” A hint of excitement in Jon’s voice. “One of the new ones from Development. Whether her phone is on or off, we can get a lock on her and ID her exact location.”

He jumped out of his chair. “Get a lock on her.”

“What?”

“Get a lock on her,” he repeated. “Now.”

Because Monica always had a reason. Always.

His gaze flew around the sheriff’s office. She’d wanted to slip away from the deputies, but Monica had also wanted to make sure she could be tracked.

Sonofabitch. She’d left him a perfect trail of breadcrumbs to follow.

They tailed the deputy’s cruiser through the backwoods. Over a sagging wooden bridge. Down muddied dirt roads.

As they went deeper into the woods, Luke noticed that Monica grew more tense. Not that he blamed her. Not one damn bit. This whole scene set his nerves on edge. The sooner they found Pope, the better.

Then he saw the cabin. Dark wood with a sloping porch and two small windows near the front. A line of wildflowers outside.

Wildflowers. What the hell?

Monica’s breath came out, hard and fast. Too fast.

“Monica?”

The deputy had stopped. His brake lights flashed as he turned off the car.

“Get your gun,” Monica said. “Get it and get ready.”

But she’d said Lee might be the victim. Wait, shit, what—

She already had her weapon out. She didn’t look at him as she said, “It’s him.” Her stare was on the wildflowers.

Vance hopped out of his car. Paced nervously.

Luke opened his door, nice and slow. He pulled his weapon, felt the reassuring weight in his hand.

Vance squared his shoulders and marched toward the cabin. He slammed his fist on the door. “Lee! Lee, come out!”

No sign of Pope.

Monica climbed from the car.

Vance spun around. “I’m checking the side, he might be there. Lee!” He raised his voice. “Man, we’ve got to talk. Come on, buddy, come out!”

He disappeared. More pounding. Maybe on a second door?

Luke eyed the cabin. No lights were on inside.

“Lee’s in there,” Monica said, her voice pitched low. “We have to get him out.” She licked her lips. “We’re gonna have to move fast. As soon as you see Vance again, I need you to—”

A gunshot fired, the explosion thundering through the quiet of the woods, and Monica stumbled back.

Then she hit the ground.

Fuck!

“No!” Luke swung his gun toward the house. He could see the tip of a rifle, poking through a now-open window. Bastard. He fired. Glass shattered. He shot again, aiming for the window. The rifle was gone.

He crouched and ran for Monica. Blood, soaking her shirt, soaking the ground around her. But she was conscious, her eyes open as she fought to rise.

He caught her hands. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be all right.” He yanked out his phone. “I’m getting help, baby.” Christ, her blood.

She shook her head. “Not… Lee…”

“This is Special Agent Luke Dante, I need an ambulance—”

Her hand turned and her nails dug into his palm. “Vance. Shoot… h-him.…”

His eyes widened, and he swung back around.

Too late.

The butt of the rifle slammed into his head.

Vance’s fingers tightened around the rifle, and he smiled. Too easy.

Dante was out cold.

But Monica…

“Get away from him!” Beneath the boiling fury, he could hear the fear in her words.

“Drop the gun,” he told her, “Or I kill him right now.” He glanced up and saw her struggling to rise. Struggling to aim the gun at him. He’d hit her in the right shoulder. Deliberate, that. He could have hit her dead in the heart, but then how could a quick kill be fun?

The wound had her hand shaking. Can’t aim for shit, can you, bitch?

Ah, Monica. And as a bonus, she was a bleeder. He’d realized that when Jones had shot her. So much blood, spilling all around.

And Dante, well, he didn’t react so well when his lady got hit.

Exactly why I gave the bitch the first shot.

Confuse and control—the way he worked.

His finger tightened on the trigger when she didn’t drop her weapon. “How ’bout I shoot him in the head? Or maybe the heart? Yeah, let’s go for the heart.”

Her lips trembled, and the gun slipped from her bloody fingers.

“Good girl.”

He said the words slowly, letting them sink in, and he saw the way her eyes widened. This would be so fine. Better than all the other kills. Adrenaline spiked through his blood. He’d planned for this moment for so long. The perfect kill.

He kicked her gun away and leaned in close to her. “I know what scares you, Agent Davenport.”

She tried to slam her head into his.

He laughed, then rammed the butt of the rifle into her head.

Bitch.

“I lost her.” Jon’s bleak voice.

Kenton’s blood iced. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means her signal just died on me—sonofabitch!”

But the signal shouldn’t die. “I thought the damn thing worked even if the phone was off!”

“It does. It only stops if the tracking chip has been destroyed.”

No. Dammit, no. “Give me the last address.”

“It’s not a street, man, it’s in the middle of nowhere. Why is she out—”

“Coordinates.” He’d find the place. “Just give me the damn coordinates.” The glass doors of the sheriff’s station swung open. Hyde came marching in first, followed by a pale and hunched Sam.

What? She shouldn’t be there!

He scribbled down the coordinates. “Keep trying to get her signal back,” he snapped, and waved for Hyde. The shit was about to hit the fan.

Hyde stopped beside him, a frown pulling his brows low. “Where’s Davenport? I want an update on—”

“We’ve got a problem, sir.” With Hyde, he’d learned it was better to get things out fast.

Hyde shook his head. “That’s not what I want to hear.” His eyes scanned the room. “Dante?”

They were together. He suspected that Monica actually trusted Luke more than she trusted anyone. “Davenport went in the field. She and Dante were looking for a deputy—a Lee Pope.” A quick breath. “She wanted me to track her cell, and we just lost the signal.”

Hyde didn’t blink, but behind him Sam seemed to sway a bit.

“Last coordinates,” Hyde barked.

Kenton reached for his pad. “I’ve got—”

“Davis!” Hyde’s roar. “Get me a car and get it f**king now!”

She awoke to complete darkness. The pain hit her instantly. Throbbing in her head, radiating from her right temple. Fire in her shoulder from the bullet that had gone through flesh and muscle.

Fumbling, she reached out her hand—and slammed her palm into a wall. Her breath shuddered out. Monica turned and reached behind her. Another wall.

She judged the distance and her heart stopped.