she was younger, she hadn’t had eyes for anyone but him. Though she hadn’t been just another village girl swooning after his mouthwatering looks. She’d been a terrified teenager who idolized the boy that had saved her.
She closed her eyes and slammed her mental shutters down against the memory. Shaking her head, she drifted to a stop and peered across the unfenced yard of the house to her left.
It looked like cutting through the property would bring her straight to the ocean. There were lights on behind the windows of the house, but the curtains were drawn. She was debating the wisdom of trespassing, when she sensed that she was being watched.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Grey stood in the shadows outside the quaint beachside cottage. Ceramic garden gnomes peaked out from the colorful hibiscus and bougainvillea blooming along the fence-line. A welcome mat embroidered with butterflies beckoned visitors onto the front porch.
The cheerfulness felt grotesque, considering the profanities that had been committed inside the cottage less than forty-eight hours ago. The profile fit the unsub he’d been chasing for three months now. He’d been to three other crime scenes, just like this one, spread across the country from New Hampshire, to Colorado, to Texas, and now Florida.
He couldn’t figure out how this psycho was choosing his victims. Much less how he found the time to travel across North America stalking them.
Grey sighed and shook his head, trying to push his frustration aside and get into the mind of the killer.
Key Largo was a beach community. It thrived on tourism. None of the residents would think twice about a stranger hanging around this neighborhood.
The perimeter of the yard was a thick mass of foliage. Normally it would provide an ideal place for a predator to lie in wait. But the thorns on these bushes would scratch the hell out of anyone who tried to use them for cover.
There was no sign of forced entry. Nor was there any sign of a struggle near the front or back doors. And all the windows were locked tight from the inside.
It had been the same at each of the other crime scenes. Perhaps this victim had felt safe enough to leave her doors unlocked? But not all of the women had lived in such casual neighborhoods.
Which meant that they had to be inviting him in. Or he had keys.
Grey gritted his teeth at the all-too-familiar theories, wishing his brain would pick up something new. An unsub who had killed in four states in as many months would need access to a chain of inter-state businesses to maintain local professional ties in all of these cities. But Liza, Grey’s technical analyst, hadn’t found evidence of any victims having recent contact with professionals who had access to their customers’ keys.
And when a tech as good as Liza found nothing, there was usually nothing to find.
Maybe Grey would get lucky and something about this poor woman would finally give him a bead on the bastard.
A faint sound interrupted Grey’s musings, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned the surrounding darkness for its source. A lone figure approached along the sidewalk. The moon slid from behind a cloud, its light gilding strawberry blonde hair, and revealing the most incredible woman Grey had ever seen.
Tall and lithe, she moved with the grace of a panther. Her sheath dress clung to her lean curves, flaring to a stop at mid-thigh, and showcasing toned legs with a sexy bronzed glow. Her eyes flashed with awareness as she slowed her walk, her full lips gleaming beneath the caress of her tongue—as if she was tasting the air for danger.
Grey’s heart jumped inside his chest and he inhaled sharply. Her eyes flew toward the pool of shadows in the yard, zeroing in on him. Though he knew she couldn’t possibly see him from her vantage point.
He stood immobile, staring at her in fascination and feeling an odd pang of regret as she moved forward, seeming to dismiss his presence.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Scarlett’s pulse sped up as she scanned her surroundings. She felt, more than saw, a lone man standing motionless in the next yard. Adrenaline spiked in her blood, fueled by anger.
This was the first moment of peace she’d had all day. She’d be damned if she let another human ruin it. She moved closer, pretending as if she didn’t see him. Then she stopped and pivoted on her heel, her stance defensive as she faced him.
“Do you make a habit of hiding in the bushes and spying on women?” she demanded.
Chocolate brows rose in surprise above dark eyes brimming with intelligence. He recovered quickly and flashed her a chagrinned smile, revealing an intriguing dimple in an otherwise smooth cheek. As her vision adjusted to the gloom, she saw that he had a trim, muscular physique and skin the color of coffee with a hint of cream.
“Do you make a habit of walking the streets alone at night?” he countered. “This isn’t the safest place to be,” he added, his expression turning grim.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at his change in tone. He had a familiar scent about him. Her nose tingled with recognition as she realized it was a pungent combination of herbs that her people used to make a particularly potent sleeping draught—a Morpheus potion.
Her body tensed. “Is that a threat?”
He gave her an odd look. “No, I’m …”
He reached into his pocket as he spoke, and she leapt at him before he could complete the sentence. She wasn’t about to give him a chance to dose her with Morpheus.
Grey grunted in shock as the woman came at him full force, sweeping his leg and sending him crashing to the ground. She landed atop him with one arm braced against his neck. Her other hand rose in a powerful arc behind her head, and he had a split second to realize that it was clenched around a stiletto heeled shoe.
With the pointy end aimed at his face.
Years of martial arts training kicked in, and he sent an uppercut flying into her ribs. He took advantage of her surprised gasp and deflected her chokehold, flipping her onto her back.
Then she began to fight in earnest.
They rolled across the lawn in a wild tussle of limbs, each landing punches heavy enough to bruise bone and steal breath. She refused to be subdued, and he realized with shock that she might be able to best him in a fight.
“FBI,” he panted, groaning as she landed a brutal blow to his kidney. “I wasn’t threatening you. I was trying to show you my badge. I’m FBI.”
He rolled off of her and held up his hands, hoping she would accept the truce. But he kept his elbows tucked into a defensive position just in case she wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy.
She leapt to her feet, nimble as a cat, and took a step backward. Her wary eyes never left his face as she towered over him.
“Do you want to see my badge?” he asked, pointing to his pocket. When she didn’t respond, he slowly reached for it, keeping one hand up in supplication.
She took another step back, almost stumbling on one of the garden gnomes. Her face was smudged with dirt and her fancy dress was probably ruined.
