More Than A Lawman. Anna J. Stewart

did your part. You stayed alive.”

      “It’s what I do.” The smile she gave him seemed strained. “Which is why you don’t have to worry about me.”

      “I will always worry about you,” Cole said as he pulled two plates out of the cabinet and dished out the eggs. “I made a—”

      “I know. You made a promise to Logan to always look after me.” Was it his imagination or was there a trace of bitterness in her voice? Hard to tell since she’d turned to retrieve the butter from the fridge. “After last night I’d say you’ve more than lived up to your end of the bargain. Whatever your plan is for protecting me, if it includes moving in here—”

      “I didn’t say I’m moving in.” The idea of sleeping on that backbreaker of a couch of hers was enough to have him reevaluating his career choice.

      “Oh.” Her shoulders straightened and her grin returned as if they’d done nothing more than talk these last few minutes. “That’s a relief. You and I both know I can take care of myself.”

      “Open your freezer and say that again,” Cole snapped. “I meant what I said. After you finish eating, you’re going to go upstairs to pack and then you’re coming home with me.”

      “To the boat?” Eden squeaked. “I hate the water. You know that. And that...boat of yours is a death trap. Besides, I bet you don’t even have internet access out there.”

      “As if that’s what you should be worried about right now.” If it wasn’t for that stupid blog of hers she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. All the more reason to lock her away...

      “Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I totally need to post an update to let everyone know I’m okay.”

      “Eden—”

      “He’s not driving me out of my home.” She actually sounded...hurt. “I realize it’s not much to look at,” she continued. “That to you it’s a jumble of boxes and junk, but this is my space. Mine. Leaving would be admitting he’s won, and neither you nor I would ever do that.”

      “This isn’t about winning or losing, Eden. And it’s not about forcing you out of your home. This is about your life.” His phone rang and it instantly drove the rest of his lecture from his mind. She smirked as if she’d been saved by the bell. “We’re not done, Eden. Hey, Jack. What’s up?”

      “Agent Simmons is here.” Jack’s voice had lowered to the point that Cole had to strain to hear. “Something about you absconding from the hospital with the witness in an ongoing investigation.”

      “My investigation,” Cole muttered. Unless something had changed. “My witness.” He glanced at Eden, who made no pretense about eavesdropping as she sat at the counter and propped her chin in her hand. “She needs food and a good night’s sleep.”

      “Says you,” she grumbled and returned to the toaster.

      “Yeah, well,” Jack said. “That sounds fine, except our friendly FBI interloper is about ten seconds from demanding Eden’s address. So if perchance you’re inclined to bring her in, and she can give her official statement—”

      “Tell him we’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

      Eden glanced over her shoulder, her grin fading as her eyes narrowed. “Bring me where first thing in the morning?” she asked after he had hung up.

      “The station. To make an official statement. Don’t let me forget to stop for doughnuts on the way. Half the department is covering for us right now by playing up the damsel-in-distress story. Not so much butter, please.” He plucked the knife out of her hand and snagged his toast.

      “What damsel-in-distress story?” She shot to her full height and pinned him with that testosterone-draining stare he’d become immune to years ago.

      “The one that kept the FBI from questioning you in the hospital.”

      “You mean the FBI really is involved?” She blinked. “That wasn’t a bluff?”

      “Some things I don’t bluff about.” Suddenly, putting her in a room with Simmons didn’t seem like such a bad idea to Cole. If he couldn’t get through to her about the danger she was in, maybe the FBI agent could. “I don’t get it, Eden. It’s like you want this maniac to come after you.”

      “Maybe I do.” She stuck a butter-covered thumb in her mouth. “Maybe that’s the method to catch him. I hit a nerve, Cole. Pushing him like I did got a reaction and now we have new evidence to work with.”

      “Is that your way of saying last night was worth it? Or is it a warning you’re about to let him know what your next step is? Allie’s right. You do have an annihilation fantasy.”

      “Allie’s biased.”

      “Allie’s a smart woman,” Cole countered. “And she’s not wrong. But I was.”

      “About what?” Was that excitement in her eyes?

      “It’s not the Iceman I have to worry about.” He dumped the dirty pan in the sink, his resignation matching decades of pent-up frustration and concern. “The only person I have to protect you from is yourself.”

      And that would be the far more difficult task.

Chapter 6

      “Your talents do not extend to sarcasm.” Eden took a small bite of toast to ease her queasy stomach as she carried her plate to the breakfast bar and claimed a stool. Diving into the ice cream face-first hadn’t been her best idea, but she’d made a promise to herself. “This is my job, Cole. It’s what I do.”

      “Taunting serial killers isn’t exactly on the Fortune 500 list. Any normal person, even a reporter, would take being abducted as a sign to back off or at the very least ask for assistance. If for no other reason than to do what you have to in order to stay alive.”

      “I haven’t been normal since I was nine years old.” No matter how much time passed, the pain never diminished. She hated the familiar silence that followed as Cole no doubt tried to find the words that would make things right. But those words didn’t exist.

      “Not everything in your life has to circle around to Chloe, Eden. Nothing you or Simone or Allie do will ever bring her back.”

      From anyone else she’d loathe the sympathy, even challenge it. No one, save the people left behind, could ever understand or contemplate the emotions the murder of a nine-year-old conjured. Those left behind included Chloe’s parents, her siblings and the three friends who had to go on without her. But this was Cole; the same Cole who had tugged on Chloe’s pigtails to pry a gap-toothed smile out of her when the classroom bully taunted her on the playground. After he’d given the bully a taste of his own medicine. He’d also witnessed the aftermath of Chloe’s murder, stood silently behind Eden along with Logan, Simone and Allie when they’d been told their friend was no more. Even still, he’d never truly gotten what that night—and ensuing days—had done to them. Done to her.

      How could he when Eden hadn’t been honest with anyone, not even Simone or Allie, when it came to that night. Eden’s shame, the guilt, the insurmountable grief had become a part of her, settling inside her as her constant companion.

      Instead of admitting the truth, of accepting responsibility for her part in the tragedy, Eden had refused to spend her life being afraid of whatever—and whoever—lurked in the shadows.

      Whoever she was supposed to be before Chloe’s death would forever remain a mystery. She didn’t possess Simone’s patience or logic to venture into law. Eden lacked the compassion and curiosity Allie exemplified to spend her life exploring behavior and treating the aftereffects.

      Instead Eden had found solace in true-crime books, in crime journals and newspapers, in blogs with a leaning