a sharp breath. Bowen stood next to the sole window in the small room, his gaze on the city below. His hands were clasped behind his back, and she could see the bulk of his weapon and holster beneath the suit jacket he wore.
She put her laptop down on the desk. “Samantha said we should be ready to fly in an hour. She’s giving us the FBI’s jet to use—”
He turned toward her. “Do you trust me, Mace?”
Mace. That was the nickname he’d adopted for her, and half the time, she wasn’t even sure that he realized he was changing her name. But...it was softer when he said “Mace” and not “Macey.” For some reason, she usually felt good when he used that nickname.
She didn’t feel good right then. Do you trust me? Was that a trick question? She frowned at him. “You’re my partner. I have to trust you.” Or else they’d both be screwed. She was supposed to watch his back, and he was supposed to watch hers. It was pretty much the only way the FBI worked.
He crossed his arms over his chest as he considered her. “I have to ask... What will happen if you come face-to-face with Daniel Haddox?”
She stared up at him, but for a moment, she didn’t see Bowen. She saw Daniel. Smiling. His eyes gleaming. And a scalpel in his hand. The scalpel was covered in her blood.
Bowen’s square jaw hardened. “We’re on this team because Samantha thinks our connections to killers give us special insight into serial crimes. We’re not here because we’re trying to follow our own personal agendas.”
Hurt, she took a step back. “My agenda?” Anger hummed in her blood and, just that fast, she didn’t see Daniel any longer. She just saw Bowen. Bowen with his handsome face, his dark eyes, his strong jaw—a jaw that was currently clenched. Bowen with his broad shoulders and his athletic build. Bowen...the guy she’d thought would understand, more than anyone else, exactly why she had to do this. “You’re the man who hunted a serial and killed him. You’re the one who went out for your own justice, not me.”
He looked away from her. “There are things you don’t know...”
Because Bowen wasn’t exactly the sharing sort. That was fine, neither was she. “I’m not going up there to kill him.”
Now he turned his stare back on her.
“Isn’t that what this whole trust talk is about?” She tugged on her right sleeve, making sure it was perfectly in place, as always. She didn’t like for anyone to see her scars. When people saw them, they tended to just—stare. And stare. And then to look at her with sympathy or horror. “You want to know what my plans are? Do you want to know if I’m going up there so that I can exact some vengeance on the man who tried to kill me?” Her words hung in the air between them.
He was supposed to say something.
He didn’t.
Damn it. He did want to know all that.
“Samantha trusts me.” So maybe she emphasized trust a bit too much there. “You should, too. I’m going up there to stop a killer. I’m not going to Hiddlewood so that I can become one.”
He took a step closer to her. “Is that what you think I am? Do you look at me and see a killer?”
She thought she’d lost control of the conversation. Total control. She smoothed a hand over her hair. “No, look...we need to get packed, okay? There’s a lot of work to do and not a lot of time. I’ll just—I’ll see you on the jet.” Macey backed away from him.
She started checking her desk, grabbing any notes she needed and trying to look anywhere but at Bowen as she heard him pace toward the door.
But he didn’t leave her office. At her door, he stilled. She knew because she’d snuck a quick glance at him. He filled her doorway, his broad back tense, and his hands on the door frame. He didn’t look back at her as he said, “I hate that he hurt you.”
Join the club. I hate that he got away. I hate that he’s killed someone else. Maybe a whole lot of people. I hate it so much that it makes me sick.
“You aren’t the only one who has been looking for him,” Bowen rasped. “You think I haven’t been searching for the bastard, too?”
Surprise rocked through her. “Samantha assigned you to his case?” Sometimes they did look into the colder cases but—
“No.” He’d finally glanced over his shoulder. “This has nothing to do with Samantha or the rest of the team. It’s about you. He hurt you. And I want him to pay. So I’ve been looking for the bastard. I’ve been hunting him.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “You just found him first.”
Unease slithered through her. Macey stopped searching through her desk. “Bowen?”
“He won’t hurt you again. I’ll make sure of that. Like I was trying to tell you before, you should trust me. I’ll always watch your back.”
Then he was gone. And she was left staring at the door.
* * *
BOWEN MURPHY HAD one weakness in this world, and that weakness was named Macey Night. The beautiful, brilliant and very, very untouchable Macey Night.
He watched her now as she headed down the flight of stairs that led to the medical examiner’s office in Hiddlewood. Their flight to North Carolina had been brief—and quiet. Macey wasn’t the kind of person who filled the air with idle chitchat. Macey was intense, Macey was focused...and Macey had been driving him insane for years.
Ever since he’d first walked into the FBI’s DC office and seen her.
He’d heard her story before he met her. The woman who’d escaped from the infamous Doctor, the MD who’d walked away from her medical career so that she could catch violent criminals. Macey came in a small package, she barely skimmed over five feet three inches, but the woman was pure power. She was dead-on with her gun, and when it came to crime scenes, she always seemed to find details that others overlooked.
And as for the bodies...
No one gets the dead like she does.
They’d reached the end of the stairs. Macey looked back up at him, brushing her hair over her shoulders. Her red hair was straight and fell in a blunt cut that framed her delicate face perfectly. Her gaze drifted to him, and that gaze was as unnerving as always. And not because she had two different-colored eyes—something he found oddly sexy—because it was her. Because he often felt as if Macey could see straight into him.
A bad thing. Because inside? He was dark and twisted.
“Dr. Lopez is supposed to have the victim ready for us. I just need to get a look at the vic’s wounds, and then we can go forward from there.”
By going forward, he hoped that meant a fast trip to the crime scene. He wanted to get hunting. Because even if the perp wasn’t Daniel Haddox, that meant they still had a killer out there. One that needed to be stopped before anyone else was hurt.
Macey adjusted her sleeves, a move he’d seen her do dozens of times, and Bowen’s hand flew out, wrapping around her wrist. “You don’t need to hide.”
He
