In their division, trust was key. You trusted your teammates. You knew that they had your back.

His lips tightened, and then Luke said, “I know about the panic attack in Virginia.”

She flinched. What? No, no, she’d retreated to an abandoned office. No one had—

“Two uniforms saw you. They reported to Hyde and that’s why he yanked you off field work as soon as you returned to D.C.”

Her breath came too fast, too hard. “I haven’t had another attack in weeks. The department shrink gave me the all clear.” Didn’t that fact matter to anyone?

“And I’m giving you a chance.” His head cocked to the right. “Prove Hyde wrong. Show him the steel inside, the steel that kept you alive when the Watchman wanted you to break.”

I did break. I broke, and I begged.

“But if there are signs you’re starting to falter, if I don’t think you’re strong enough to handle the work…”

He didn’t have to finish. She knew. “You’ll pull me off the case.” Then it would be two failures for her, and she could kiss her career at the SSD good-bye.

Luke’s head inclined in a grim nod.

Well, at least she knew where she stood with him. And she knew that she owed Monica a hell of a lot.

“Now go and take over the scanning of all the computer equipment the techs confiscated,” he ordered. “As of now, you are officially on the case. Hell, no one can hack into a system like you can. The guys Hyde had running the systems can’t even hope to compete with you.”

No, they couldn’t, but when the big boss gave an order, people listened. He’d wanted her to back off and only provide support to the new tech guys, so she had. But now…

“I want to find out every detail there is to know about Jeremy Briar’s life and his family,” Luke said, “Every damn detail.”

Once she got back to the office, she’d dig deep into their financials and make sure that there wasn’t anyone in the family who would benefit from that ransom money. Maybe there was a relative desperate for cash. Maybe a cousin had hit rock bottom. When money was involved, family members often turned on each other—and they could be vicious.

Sometimes, these crimes could hit too close to home.

Getting access to the bank records was easy. Impersonal. Going into the family’s private e-mails and wading through their Internet sites would be much more intimate.

“The media will go crazy with this one,” Luke warned. “The Briars are always big news in this part of the country, but with both the son and the husband dead, it’s going to be a circus.”

So far, the media hadn’t made the full connection between the kidnappings. The two men who’d been returned alive had been ushered out of the country by their parents. And then any suspicions from the press—well, they had been hushed up by the power of old money.

As for the other man, Peter Hollings, the one who’d been sent back to his parents in pieces after they used marked bills to pay his ransom…

His family had all but erased their son’s life. The rest of the world believed Peter had died in a car accident. Money had a way of re-writing history.

“What will the kidnappers do when they make the news?” Sam asked. Some killers craved attention. The pyro that the SSD had tracked in Virginia had been desperate for his fifteen minutes of fame.

Luke’s gaze met hers. “At first, it sure looked like they wanted their kidnappings kept quiet.” They—Hyde was convinced they were looking for a team of abductors. “But the way Jeremy Briar’s body was spread out, I think these perps want some attention now.”

So the press would soon be fueling the flames for them.

“They were sending a message,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

“To the next family.” Luke agreed grimly. “Telling them that this is what happens when you don’t pay.”

• • •

Max wasn’t asleep when the knock sounded at his door. It was close to three a.m., but he wasn’t asleep.

He was thinking about her. Still feeling Samantha against his skin, and when the knock reached his ears, he immediately headed for the door.

I’ll find you.

Max pulled open the door without bothering to look out the peephole.

Samantha.

She stood in the well-lit hallway, but she wasn’t the femme fatale of hours before. No sexy dress. No flash of cl**vage.

Instead she wore simple black pants and a black shirt. The color just made her skin look paler. And she looked lost.

“You should really have better security in a place like this,” she said, in that smooth voice he loved. No accent, just softness and sex. “It was too easy to get inside.”

“I left orders that the doorman was to let you up.” He’d spent ten minutes giving Charlie a description of her.

When her eyes widened a bit, Max knew that he’d caught her by surprise. Good. She’d sure surprised him that first night.

I don’t want love. I don’t want promises of forever. I just want you. Now.

How was he supposed to turn that down?

Samantha rocked back on her heels. “There should be an electronic security system in place. You should see everyone before they—” She stopped and shook her head.

There were shadows under her eyes. Dark circles that hadn’t been there earlier on the balcony. “Samantha?” They were little better than strangers, but something was there between them. Connecting them.

She hesitated then said, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Didn’t get more stark or brutally honest than that. His c*ck swelled as arousal spiked through him. He could still taste her.

Her lashes lifted. “Do you want to be alone?” Her eyes widened. “Wait—you might not be—are you alone?”

Max took her hand and hauled her inside. “Not anymore.” He slammed the door shut, and his mouth crashed down on hers.

Samantha’s lush lips parted immediately for him. Her tongue swept against his, rubbing, teasing, and the light strokes seemed to go straight to his cock.

Her hands were on him, feathering over his bare chest. So hot and soft. He loved her hands. Loved them more when they were wrapped around his c*ck and pumping hard and fast.

Screw everything but… her. No, screw her. Take her.

She sucked his lower lip. Drew it into her mouth and sucked, and Max’s heart ripped through his chest. Why? Why did she affect him so much?

He’d been with his share of lovers. He shouldn’t—

Samantha shoved away from him.

“What are you—”

She lowered to her knees before him. “My turn.” Her hands jerked down his jogging pants, and her mouth, sweet f**k, her mouth closed over the tip of his erection.

“Samantha.”

Her palm curled around the base of his shaft, and she leaned in toward him, taking a few more inches of erect flesh, sucking strong and tight with her mouth.

His hands sank into her hair.

She swallowed. Took more.

Her mouth moved faster. Sliding along his skin, taking him deeper as her tongue licked and learned his flesh. Deeper. More.

Max positioned her head and thrust against that hot mouth. His balls tightened, his spine tingled, and his cl**ax bore down on him. Building, building, so close that his balls ached.

Her hands flew up, and she pulled free of his grasp in an instant. Her breath panted out. “Not yet,” she whispered.

Staring up at him, licking her lips, she yanked off her shirt and tossed it on the floor. She had on a plain white bra, but her br**sts pushed against the cups, and she made the garment look damn sexy.

She kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her pants. Then Samantha pulled out a small packet from her back pocket.

The woman was prepared. Her fingers tore open the foil, and she smoothed the condom over his throbbing flesh.

Samantha rose before him, her body brushing against his, every smooth inch driving him insane.

Her fingers caught the waistband of her panties, then shoved them down. “Now,” she told him, that voice enveloping him.

Like he had to be told twice.

Max lifted her against him. Her legs wrapped around him. Long, supple legs. Her sex, creamy and plump, brushed against his cock.

He took two steps and pushed her back against the wall. Max braced her and thrust deep into her sex.

Christ, he was so close to exploding. His cl**ax bore down on him, and he thrust fast, deep, hard, driving into her as the fury rode him.

Her h*ps were tilted down, and every glide of his c*ck swept over her clit. She moaned, thrashing beneath him, and arching her h*ps as she fought for her release.

Faster. Faster. Deeper. Her whispered demands.

Her nails dug into his ass as she urged him on. There, there was the woman from the first night. The woman who liked the sex wild and who didn’t stop until she’d come.

Over and over.

Her sex convulsed around him. Hard, gripping contractions that worked his erection so damn well. Yes.

Max eased out of her, then plunged balls-deep. He came, growling her name, and holding her in a grip that he knew had to bruise.

Holding her. Keeping her locked tightly to him, because this time, he wouldn’t let her get away.

The scream woke Max later. A sound of terror so absolute that Max awoke with fear squeezing his own heart. He jerked up in bed and shoved the covers back.

Samantha thrashed in the bed, her pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. Her hands were up in the air, pushing out, fighting nothing, and she was choking, gasping, struggling to breathe.

“D-don’t… p-put me b-back… in…”

What the f**k?

He hit the lamp switch hard, and light flooded the room. “Samantha.”

Her back arched but her eyes stayed closed. “D-don’t…”

Max grabbed her arms and pulled her up against his chest. “Samantha!”

Her lashes flew open. “Kill… me.”

His eyes widened. What?

And he realized that her eyes were blank. The pupils were dilated and fixed and staring at a nightmare that he couldn’t see.

Her breath rattled in her chest. Holy shit, she seemed to be suffocating!

Max pressed his lips tightly against hers. Then he breathed into her mouth. A long, deep expulsion of air.

Her hands came up against his shoulders, and she shoved him back, once again surprising him with her strength.

“Wh-what’s happening?” Not the frightened voice from before.

Samantha. She was back.

But her eyes were still blank. So was her face.

He didn’t let her go. His grip grew even tighter. Hold her. Keep her safe.

Max expelled a slow breath. “Everything’s okay, Samantha.”

The sound of her swallow was too loud in the quiet room. “What did I do?” She asked, her voice stronger now.

He tried to smile, a hard feat when his heart shoved against his ribs and tension ate at his gut. “I think you just had a bad dream. We all have them.”

Her skin was cool beneath his hands, and her muscles were tense. Samantha blinked at him, then narrowed her eyes a bit. “We all have them.” Her echo was toneless.

His right hand rose and cupped her shoulder. “Want to talk about it?” It was so hard to keep his voice light and calm. Want to tell me why you dream about begging someone not to kill you?

“I don’t remember anything.” Her lips twisted. “I never remember my nightmares.” A pause. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He stared down at her, noting the soft curves of her cheeks and the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her jaw was set, that slightly pointed chin up, and her thick hair was a tousled mane around her face.

Sexy.

She’d been that way from the beginning.

But now, there was something different. A tension around her full lips. Shadows in her eyes.

And her nails dug into his shoulders. Not with passion this time. With fear.

“For a minute there, you seemed to stop breathing.” As far as he was concerned, that qualified as being way past just a nightmare. “You looked like you were fighting to get air.”

Silence. One beat of time. Two, then… “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you were here.” Her lips curved but the shadows never left her eyes. Her fingers skimmed over his chest. “I’m glad you could give me mouth to mouth.”

She was shutting him out. His jaw clenched.

“Let me freshen up a bit, and then…” She kissed him. A light, biting nip. “You can make me forget all about my bad dream.” Samantha eased away from him. She rose and walked toward the bathroom, completely na**d, with her head held up high and her h*ps swaying.

He watched her, keeping silent. His damn c*ck was up, but with her around, there was no real way to stop the lust.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

The sound of rushing water filtered through the room.

And he realized that his hands were clenched into fists. That’s what she looks like when she lies.

Sam stared at the image in the mirror. Her hands were wrapped around the faucet, holding on too tightly. The better to stop the trembling in her fingers.

It had been six weeks since she’d had a flashback, and yes, that’s what it was. No nightmare. No freaking bad dream.

A flashback.

She was supposed to be better.

Max had seen her when she was weak. No, no, he shouldn’t have seen her like that. She was with him for sex and pleasure. To push the ghosts away.

She wasn’t there so that he could see her get tangled in the past.

“You looked like you were fighting to get air.”

Dammit. Just… dammit.