Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
“There’s nothing useful on the security footage.
” Preston stood behind her, watching Sloane as she examined the video footage from the day of his abduction.
Her abduction, too. Her stomach seemed to be in knots as she sat before him.
Yes, she’d finally gotten around to viewing the video.
After she’d managed to drag herself out of his bed that morning—I’m still wrapping my head around sex with Preston—they’d dressed, had a fast breakfast, then gotten to work.
The work in question? They were finding the killer. No one else was going to die. Not if she could help it.
They were currently downstairs, in one very plush office. Another room with windows everywhere. She was really starting to love the windows.
Preston leaned forward, putting one hand on the desk near where her own fingers covered the mouse. His crisp, masculine scent teased her nose, and the warmth of his body seemed to reach out toward her.
Something else she was really starting to love? Well, that just might be h—
She stopped the thought. Hard. In its tracks.
They’d had incredible sex. Sex so good that she hadn’t thought that much pleasure was even possible.
Clearly, she was riding some wild post-sex high that made her feel overly emotional where he was concerned.
Yes, that was it. Had to be it. She was in a heightened state.
There was no need to go putting labels on things. Certainly, no need to be thinking…
Maybe I can have a shot at a real life with someone. Someone who understands darkness. Who understands me. Someone who won’t expect me to flash fake smiles all the time and to pretend that I am just like everyone else.
His fingers covered hers.
She shivered.
“Here.” He pushed down on the mouse, starting the feed again. She’d already watched the feed once, and he’d been right, there hadn’t been anything particularly helpful to see. Unfortunately. But she wanted to watch it again, just to make sure there was nothing she’d missed.
In the feed on the monitor, Preston jogged forward. Black running shorts. White shoes. A large watch on his wrist. A smartwatch.
The delivery van pulled up behind him. Preston was turned away from the van at first, stretching, and the driver exited. A driver wearing a black ski mask. In the video, he ran up behind Preston. Drove a needle right into his neck even as Preston turned to swing at him.
Preston went down. The man in the ski mask peered at his unconscious body. Then he began dragging Preston and shoving his slumped form into the back of the van.
“There you come,” Preston murmured.
She winced. She’d come in like a tornado. Fists flying. Legs kicking. She’d jumped on the attacker’s back, but he’d shaken her off instantly.
The syringe fell to the ground.
The attacker shook her off, and then he swung out with his fist, clipping her hard in the face.
“Sonofabitch.” Preston brushed a kiss over her cheek. “He will pay for that.”
She clicked the button on the mouse to pause the feed once more. Her head turned toward Preston. “The punch is the least of our worries. He needs to pay for abducting us. For killing Bridget. The punch doesn’t matter.”
He merely cocked a brow. “It happens to matter a great deal to me.”
“I don’t even feel it anymore. The bump on the back of my head was way worse.” Though even that was gone. Not like she’d sustained lasting damage.
Bridget could not say the same.
“He’s gonna pay for everything that he did,” Preston vowed.
Sloane did not doubt that he meant those words.
She tapped the mouse. Watched the feed begin playing. Saw herself fall. She had to wince when her head slammed down into the pavement. Okay, granted, that smack had been hard. Hard enough to make her black out for a bit.
“Bastard,” Preston rasped.
Yes, their attacker was a bastard.
In the feed, the man in the ski mask picked her up.
Her hands and arms dangled loosely. Her feet just kind of flopped.
With zero hesitation, the attacker tossed her into the back of his van.
A blue delivery van from the big online store.
A van people saw in their neighborhoods all the time and never gave a second glance.
Preston cleared his throat. “When you were being, ah, interrogated yesterday, Debra told me the van had been reported stolen. The driver stopped to run in and grab breakfast on the day of our abduction. He came out to find his van gone. It’s been recovered, but she said it appears to have been wiped clean. ”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the screen. “No packages were in the vehicle.” At least, not that she could see from this angle.
“They were dumped behind a store on the edge of town. Debra found those, too.”
“Maybe he left a print on one of them.” She doubted it, though. In the video, the man was wearing gloves. A ski mask. Dressed entirely in black.
The perp bent to retrieve the syringe. When she’d launched at him, he’d dropped it. After securing the syringe, he reached into the back of the van, then tossed something out.
“That’s him throwing away my watch. It had a GPS locator, so he was just ditching it. You know, the better to make sure no one found my ass.”
Her left hand lifted toward her throat. Her fingers smoothed over the delicate lily on her chain.
The chain felt far too fragile. One hard snap, and it could break from her neck.
“We need to get you a more permanent tracker, stat.” She’d feel far better once she had a way of locating him, anytime, anywhere.
“Working on it,” he assured her. Then he turned the chair around so that she faced him. The wheels beneath the desk chair didn’t even squeak. His hands curled around the chair arms, and he leaned toward her. “I want you with me.”
“I am with you.”
“No, I mean…” His jaw tightened. “Until he’s caught, don’t—”
The doorbell rang. Pealed through the house. Her shoulders tensed.
Preston stretched out his hand and tapped on the keyboard near them. Automatically, her head angled so that she could see what he was doing. After a few clicks, a new image opened on the screen. The front of his house. The main entrance.
The two men who stood on the threshold of the house.
Men she recognized. The knots in her stomach got a wee bit worse.
“Who the hell are those guys?” Preston groused.
The two men—one in a gray suit, one in a black suit—had their hands loose at their sides, but she could see the bulk of their holsters beneath their suit coats. “They’re Feds.”
“You know that just by looking at them?”
Sort of. “I know that because I know them.”
One man reached forward to ring the doorbell again. A very persistent man.
“They’re specialists with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They work violent crimes.” More than that, though. “They hunt serial killers.”
“Huh. So the cavalry arrived, did it? The big guns came to town in order to save the day?”
Not exactly. Her fingers curled around his wrist. “Be careful with the guy in the gray suit.” The persistent one.
Preston’s head turned toward her.
The doorbell rang again.
“Do not trust Gage Emerick.” That would be a bad mistake. “Watch yourself with him. Don’t lower your guard with him. You say the wrong thing to Gage, and he will use it against you.”
He caught her fingers. Raised them to his mouth. “Angel, be careful. You’re starting to sound as if you care about me.”
“I do.” Soft.
His fingers brushed across her knuckles. “Good.” Grim satisfaction. “Then let’s go chat with your annoying ex and see just what the Feds have to say.” He let her go and headed for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll try not to kill him for touching you.”
Sloane leapt from the desk chair. “He’s not my ex. There is no world where I dated Gage Emerick.”
Preston stopped near the door. He swung back toward her. “No?”
“He was involved with Lily.”
The doorbell rang again. Because Gage kept pushing the button. Over and over.
“He used her.” Something she would never forgive. FBI Agent Gage Emerick had been on Sloane’s shit-list for quite some time. “He is a total dick. The man literally made his entire career off her profiles.”
Preston’s head cocked to the right as his stare swept to the monitor once more. “I’m surprised.”
By what? The fact that Lily had been involved with the Fed? Gage was physically attractive. Tall. Muscled. Smart, too. He just also happened to be a user. Someone who’d stepped on plenty of people as he worked his way to the top. But Lily had been close to him, once.
Briefly.
“Gage knows how to get what he wants.” That was certainly a true statement. “He’s also dedicated to the job.”
Preston waved one hand. “I meant that I was surprised he was still breathing.” He turned away. “How does Atlas feel about that situation?”
“He’s not a Gage fan.” She scrambled to follow after him. Her hand grabbed his arm as they entered the foyer. “Don’t mention the pregnancy. Or the babies.”
“Not my news to share. Trust me.”
I do.
Then they were eliminating the last bit of distance between them and the main door of the house. Of course, the doorbell rang again before they actually reached the door. Patience had never been a virtue that Gage Emerick possessed.
Preston paused a moment, and she had the feeling that he was just deliberately taking his time and making the Feds wait longer before he swung open the door. And when he sung open the door, he swung it slowly.
Gage flashed his ID. “FBI Agent Gage Emerick,” he began.
“So I’ve heard.” Preston’s flat response.
Gage’s glittering eyes darted to Sloane. What could have been concern softened his face. “You all right, Sloane?” He reached out a hand toward her.
Preston eased his body to the side just enough so that Gage’s hand wound up hitting his arm. Not touching Sloane. “I have her.” There was an undeniable edge of possession in his voice.
The other agent coughed. Cleared his throat. Ahemed.
She craned her head to see that second agent. Another man she knew. Unlike Gage, however, Sloane actually liked this guy.
He flashed her a wide grin. “Hey, there, Sloane. I hear you’ve been digging up some trouble.”
“That shit is not funny, Dominic,” Gage snapped.
“Hi, Dom,” she returned. “Good to see you again.” She actually meant that. Dominic Rush was one of the best agents she’d ever met, and she wondered who he’d pissed off in order to be partnered up with Gage.
“How do you know Sloane?” Preston asked, his attention seemingly on Dominic but his body still positioned close to hers.
“Sloane helped me save some lives.” Dominic’s hands were loose near his sides. “I know how important she is.”
“So do I.” A distinct growl from Preston.
Okay, there was a lot of testosterone in the air. Preston could dial things back a few notches. She hadn’t ever been involved with Dom. Time to move on.
“We’re taking over the investigation in town,” Gage announced, clearly trying to gain control of the situation. “With the three attacks, it is evident that our target is accelerating. We can’t afford to have another vic, so I need full cooperation from you both—”
“Three attacks?” Sloane cut in.
Gage nodded. “How about we take this inside?”
Her feet had locked to the spot. “You’re counting Preston and I as one attack, aren’t you?
Our kidnapping as one event? Then Bridget’s abduction and death as the second incident?
” If that was the case… “Who is the third vic?” Had they found another body?
She began to talk, probably far too quickly.
“I thought someone else must have been taken before Preston. The perp didn’t act like an amateur.
Even in the security footage of the abduction, you can see that he’s confident.
He doesn’t get rushed. Doesn’t even get flustered when I spring out to attack him.
” That was what she’d seen in the video.
Confidence. Calm. Someone…who had done this before.
Gage pursed his lips. Seemed to absorb what she’d said. After a long beat, he nodded. “I’m surprised Lily isn’t with you.”
That was not an appropriate response to what she’d said. “She’s with Atlas.” The man needed to let go of his obsession with Lily. Or else Atlas would wreck him. “Who was the third victim?”
“The third vic…” It was Dominic who stepped forward. “He’s talking about the sheriff, Sloane.”
She felt the shock roll through Preston.
“What?” Preston snarled.
“Sheriff Debra Tooni.” Gage nodded. “She’s at the hospital now, being evaluated.”
“Debra was attacked?” Fury hardened each word from Preston. “When?”
Gage and Dominic shared a long look, then Dom revealed, “When she was at the coroner’s office. She was attacked from behind. Responders on scene suspect she received a concussion. The perp knocked her out and closed her in one of the body storage lockers.”
Sloane felt her mouth drop open in shock.
“Luckily, one of her deputies heard her banging from inside the drawer. He got her out.” Gage waved one hand toward the house. “Now, again, how about we take this inside? There are questions that need to be asked, and I would prefer not to do our Q and A session on your doorstep.”
“I want to see Debra.” Preston made no attempt to let the agents into his home.
“And you can,” Gage assured him, “after the doctors finish with her. After we finish our interrogation.”
Interrogation. Oh, but that had been a deliberate word choice from Gage. She could see the look in his eyes when he stared at Preston. That was when she realized…
He knows.
He was staring at Preston with far too much knowledge in his gaze. That was the thing about FBI Agent Gage Emerick. He was a dick, but…
He knew his killers.
Her hand curled around Preston’s arm.
Noting the move and quirking a brow, Gage noted, “You found some remains recently, didn’t you, Sloane? I can’t wait to learn more about that discovery. Do tell me everything.”
It would be a cold day in hell before she told him everything.