He turned toward her, feeling the pull of his stitches. He hadn’t felt a thing before. “It was a long time ago.” Easy words. Words most people would expect.

But he wouldn’t just give her those words. He’d tell Monica everything. “The man who killed her… he was a serial. No one knew. He’d killed three women in Texas, then one in Arkansas. He was killing them when he was with my mom. Then he killed her.” She’d been so beautiful. Tall and blond, with a slow smile that he loved. She’d read him stories at night. Always tucked him in.

And she’d died right in front of him.

“My grandfather raised me. My dad was in the military. When mom died, I don’t even know where he was. But my grandfather taught me how to live. How to be strong.” Grandpop had helped him to channel the rage. “Focus son, stop the ones who need stopping. Make a difference.”

He’d tried. Was still trying.

Monica’s fingertips traced over his chest. “You are strong.”

He caught her fingers, pressed them against his chest. “Did you mean it?”

A soft laugh. One he hadn’t heard enough. One that sent a quiver straight to his groin and had his c*ck twitching. Like once was ever enough with her. “Yes, Luke, I think you’re—”

“No.” He wanted the light then so he could see her eyes. “Do you love me?” If she didn’t, they’d work on that. He could give her time. He would give her anything.

Her lips feathered over his jaw. “Dante, you’re the only man I’ve ever loved. The only one I ever will.”

His heart slammed into his chest. She had to feel the desperate lurch. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

That light laugh again, rubbing over his flesh. “I guess I was scared. But you know what? I’m not afraid now.”

Her lips took his, and she kissed him. Deep and long and sweet.

He held her as tight as he could and knew that he’d never be letting Monica Davenport go.

Finally, he had her right where he wanted her. In his arms. In his bed.

In his heart.

When Dennis Myers was led through the heavy metal doors, Monica locked her gaze with his. He wore a bright orange prison uniform, one that made his skin appear too pale, almost stark white. His hair had receded on top and thinned out on the sides. He was too skinny, almost skeletal.

Shackles were around his wrists, linked with a thin chain to those bonds on his ankles. He shuffled toward her and a smile split his face, flashing the dimples that time hadn’t changed. “My girl finally came to see me.”

And Romeo sat down in front of her.

His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his perfect nose was twisted, probably broken from fights in prison.

He hadn’t fared so well at Angola.

She smiled back at him. “Hello, Dennis.”

His grin dimmed a bit. He’d always made her call him Romeo.

But he wasn’t a Romeo anymore. He was just a man, older, thinner, trapped behind bars—where he’d stay forever.

“I knew you’d come to see me.” His gaze slid over her. “Knew you couldn’t stay away.”

A chair screeched as Luke hauled it closer to the table.

Dennis’s gaze jerked to him. “Who the hell are you?”

She caught the flash of teeth Luke bared at him. “The man who’d love to rip you apart.”

Dennis shrank back against the chair a bit. “Guards, you hear that? He’s threatening me. I want him out of here. I want him—”

Monica slammed her palms down on the table.

Dennis blinked.

“You’re not calling the shots anymore.” Her gaze bored into him. She waited a beat, then leaned toward him. She caught the heavy scent of his sweat. “You don’t seem surprised I’m still alive.”

His eyes narrowed to slits, and he inched forward. “Because you’re mine,” he whispered. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to hurt you. I trained you. I made you.”

Her stomach clenched. “But you sent Kyle after me anyway, didn’t you?”

His gaze slid to Luke. Back to her. “Guess he’ll be joining me, huh?”

“No. Kyle West is dead.”

His nails dug into the table. “You killed him?” A laugh. “I knew, I knew it was in you. You wanted a taste of your own, didn’t you? To see what the power was like.” His head came even closer, like a snake coming for his prey. “How many? Huh? How many have you had?”

How many kills.

Monica shook her head. “I’m not like you.” Simple, and all there was for her to say. “And I’m not like Kyle.”

“Kyle was weak! A wanna-be! He thought he could be like me, but I had to tell him everything! How to build the fear, how to find the prey. He wouldn’t have been able to start over as a damn deputy if I hadn’t told him how to off that other bastard!”

Ah, now here we go. Romeo had always liked to talk. Made him feel important. Powerful. Had to share his crimes. He couldn’t stand it if no one knew just how great he was.

“I had to hand feed him every damn bit of information. He didn’t know anything. I’m the one who told him about the precious SSD, about that prick Hyde and—”

And now she had everything she needed. “That’s all.” She nodded to the guards. “You can take him back now.” Really, he’d been so smart once. Always staying a step ahead of the cops. Maybe prison had broken his mind as well as his body.

But then, his mind had always been broken. Twisted beyond repair.

He shook his head, and his jaw dropped. “Wh-what? You’re not leaving me!” He surged to his feet. Lunged forward. “I’ve waited for you. You’re not—”

Luke punched him in the face. Bones crushed. Blood gushed from Dennis’s nose.

And down he went, slamming his chin on the table.

“You boys had better move to secure him faster next time,” Luke snapped to the guards.

Monica stared at the killer. He was swearing, screaming and spitting. Not the poised lover who’d lured the girls. A criminal who was lost without power over his prey.

The guards hoisted him back to his feet.

“I’ll sue your ass!” he yelled at Luke. “You can’t—”

“You tried to attack me.” Monica shrugged and kept her voice ice cold. “You’re just lucky he didn’t use lethal force.”

That shut him up.

“There are some things you should know, Dennis.” She picked up her bag and strolled toward the door. Luke followed right behind her. She paused, then glanced back at the man who’d tried to break her. “There will be no more visitors, unless it’s your attorney. Your real attorney who will be verified by three ID checks before he’s allowed inside the premises.” No more women who wanted to screw a killer. No more wanna-bes lapping up his every word.

“M-my what? Bitch, you can’t—”

“I can.” She gave him another smile. Darkness. Screams. Blood. It was all ending now.

“You’ve just confessed to helping Kyle West plan the abduction and attempted murders of two federal agents,” Monica said. “You also colluded to help him kill a sheriff’s deputy.” The real Vance Monroe. She gave a careless shrug of her shoulders.

“That changes your game in here. You’re heading for solitary, and if the DA thinks he can get a murder charge to stick on you—” One more nail in his f**king coffin— “then maybe this time, you’ll get death.”

He fought against the guards’ hold. “Bitch! I should have killed you! Fucking cut you apart—”

She kept her eyes on him. “But if you’d killed me, then you would have been alone all that time, right, Dennis? No one to pay any attention to you. No one to see just what twisted hell you were wreaking.”

His body trembled.

She smiled. “Guess what? You’re going to be alone until you die, Dennis. All alone. Twenty-four hours a day. Just you and your cell. No, wait, you’ll get out…” Her eyes flickered to the guards. “To walk, if they let you, once a day. Maybe twice if you’re a real good boy.”

He shook his head. “No, no, I won’t f**king do this! You can’t—”

“And if you have another trial, I don’t think the judge will sentence you to more prison time. I mean, what would be the point? You’ll just get death this time.”

Veins bulged in his neck and on his forehead. Had he really once been handsome? Used that face to lure his victims?

“The DA will go after you only if he can get your death.” She smiled, fully now. “Good-bye, Dennis.”

“No, no, Mary Jane, don’t leave me! You have to—”

“You’ll be alone until you die,” she said again because she knew the words would twist in his gut. Monica rapped on the door so the guard outside would open it for her. The door opened. She walked over the threshold with Luke at her back.

“You think you know her, Dante?” Dennis shrieked. “You think because you f**k her that you know her?”

She wouldn’t glance back. One more door to open, and she’d be free.

“She’s just like me! You hear me? Just like me! Twisted, dark and—”

“Fuck off, a**hole,” Luke growled and the second door opened.

Freedom.

The door closed behind her, clanging loudly, echoing, but not loudly enough to block out the sound of the killer’s screams.

Dennis had always enjoyed the screams.

Monica and Luke turned in their passes. Got their weapons back. Left the prison, and walked into the light.

Blinding sunlight.

So bright it hurt.

The light could do that sometimes.

“You okay?” Luke asked her quietly.

She glanced back at the dark walls of the prison. “I’m just fine.” Her hands were shaking, her knees trembling, and she thought she might vomit.

But she was outside, safe, and that bastard would die in his cell. “I’m just fine,” she said again.

Luke caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips. His mouth feathered over her skin as he kissed her knuckles. “I love you.”

He knew her every secret. Knew the darkness inside. And he still stood by her.

“Do you… have any doubts?” About me?

“Not a damn one,” he said instantly.

No way would she ever lose him. Monica swallowed. “I love you, Luke.” Saying it seemed so easy now. The weight of her past was gone. She’d left it in that prison with Dennis. She could be free now. She could have a life. With Luke. “You’re mine, Dante.” She swallowed and tried to smile. “Don’t ever forget it.”

“Baby, I’ve known it for years.”

Epilogue

The call came in to the SSD two days later. Hyde listened to the voice on the line, then said, “You sure?” But he knew the warden wouldn’t make a mistake, not like this.

“Dennis Myers died last night.”

“How?” Because Hyde had to know how Romeo went down.

“He attacked a guard while he was on his walk out of solitary.” The warden’s voice sounded tired. Working Angola, that figured. “He’d never attacked a guard before.” Because his prey had been girls. Weaker. So much easier to hurt.

“He got a shiv,” the warden continued. “We think someone passed it to him along the cell walk, and he went after a guard named Regan Lyle. Lyle fought back, shoved Dennis against a cell door. His neck broke on impact.”

A quick end. Not nearly as painful as he deserved. “Thanks, man. Appreciate the call.” He hung up the phone, aware that the warden had done him a favor by calling so quickly.

Hyde turned his chair so that he could stare out the window. Myers had taken the easy way out.

Death by cop. Or, this time, by prison guard.

Hyde knew what had happened to the killer.

He’d seen Monica, and he’d snapped. Because the bastard had realized he didn’t have power over her any longer.

No one would mourn for Dennis Myers, but some folks might just throw a party. The story would hit the news soon. He should tell Monica first.

He stared into that darkness just a little longer.

The Romeo Killer.

“Playing the tough guy, Hyde?” That taunting voice had echoed through his mind for so many years.

“She’s mine!”

You didn’t forget evil.

But you could bury it.

His gaze turned back to the desk, to the files that waited for him. So many cases.

A photo stared back up at him, a black-and-white image of a building engulfed in flames.

Some serials liked to touch their prey. They liked to use knives to make the kills intimate. Romeo had always liked to get that close, as close as a lover.

But others… some others wanted to light up the night with their crimes.

Hyde took a deep breath, and he reached for the phone.

One ring. Two. Then Monica’s voice, soft but clear when she said, “Agent Davenport.”

So different from the broken voice that had once haunted his dreams. I-I’m not Katherine.

Hyde cleared his throat. “Monica. I’ve got some news for you.”

The monster was dead. The team was safe.

One more serial down.

His gaze lingered on that deadly fire.

The damn rest of them to go.