After The Dark. Cynthia Eden

want to touch her? Would he look at her as if she were the monster?

      “I’m not going to stand back, not any longer.” The heat from his body seemed to wrap around her. “I want you. I’m not going to let that sick son of a bitch out there—whether it is Latham or someone else—I’m not letting him get you. I may not be your partner anymore, but I’m here. I will always be here for you.”

      The hero. He had that complex straight to his soul. Too bad she wasn’t built the same way. There was a darkness in her, one she’d always felt, like a constant companion who shadowed her every step. Cameron had said she was made for the dark. We both know you like the dark... Isn’t that your name? His voice floated through her mind, the way it often did. Little things, replaying in her head. I always said you had that killer instinct. How many times had she found herself looking over her shoulder in the past few months, certain that Cameron would be there?

      “If you don’t want me to touch you again, you say the word.”

      She wanted his touch right then. Wanted to drag him close and kiss him and forget everything else. She’d been playing by the rules during her time at the FBI, and what had that good behavior gotten her? Blame and a swift kick in the ass on her way out of the door.

      “But I’m not leaving,” he added, when she remained silent. Mostly because she wasn’t sure what to say. “And the killer out there? I will hunt him down. I’d just rather do it with you at my side. Because, despite the bullshit that EAD Bass said about you, I know you’re the best. We can work together again. We can take this bastard down.”

      Tempting words. But she already knew what she had to do. “I’ll help you find him.” Stopping the killer was as necessary as breathing. She couldn’t let a predator like him hunt. The image of Kristy Wales flashed through her mind. The woman had been terrified, and her blood...it had sprayed so wide when her throat was cut. “We’ll make our own rules from here on out.”

      So she’d be back to working with Blake, temporarily. And the desire that was between them? The need that kiss had just proved was still as hot as ever? What were they supposed to do about that?

      Ignore it, the way they’d done before?

      I won’t pretend. “I want you,” Samantha said. She could give him that truth. “I just don’t know what to do about that need.” Another quiet admission. She did want him, so very much, and that desire terrified her.

      Her last lover had turned out to be a serial killer. Since then, she hadn’t been willing to lower her guard and trust another man with her body. But if she could trust anyone...shouldn’t it be Blake?

      She turned away from him, fumbling with her door. It took three tries to get the lock open, then she hurriedly disengaged her security system. She went inside, but...Blake wasn’t following her.

      Samantha glanced back.

      His hands were clenched at his sides, and his eyes glittered with unmistakable desire. Her breath hitched as she stared at him, and need twisted deep inside of her.

      “I think there are a few things we need to discuss.” Again, his voice was rough and dark, sexy.

      Samantha licked her lips and tasted him.

      If possible, his gaze went even brighter. Be careful. The warning whispered through her mind. You’re about to go too far.

      “I need to talk to you about Latham.” His breath rushed out on a low hiss. “And this time, I don’t want you holding back with me.”

      Oh, hell.

      * * *

      TAMMY WASN’T FIGHTING any longer. A few jabs of his blade and she’d started cooperating quickly. Begging, promising him anything.

      Before he was done, he’d take everything from her.

      After he’d transported her, he’d tied her up, secured her easily, but now her blood was making a pool beneath her body. A gag was shoved in her mouth—just in case she got the urge to scream—and she stared up at him with wide, desperate eyes. The light from his lantern shone on her, illuminating her terror in just the right way...while letting him blend with the shadows around them.

      Does she know there’s no hope? Or does she still think there is a way out?

      He held up her phone in front of her face and snapped a quick picture. “Perfect.” He’d taken the phone—and her bag—when he grabbed her in the parking garage.

      A low moan came from behind the gag. He lifted up the phone, studying the image. “Not too bad, but I don’t know if this angle really is your best. Let’s try again.” Another shot. Another bloody picture. “Much better.” He smiled at her. “You know, I’m really glad I took a few hours to learn my way around your town earlier.” Now he nodded. “Always get the lay of the land, that’s step one. You have to know where to hide. You have to know how to escape. I mean, otherwise, aren’t you just a sitting duck, waiting for the authorities to come?”

      Her eyelids had flickered when he said “authorities.” Oh, that was cute. She did still have hope. “I’m good on the water,” he murmured. “So that helped me. You pay a guy thirty bucks, and you can rent a boat down here for two hours. Gave me time to study your city from land and sea.” Then he’d just gone in and set his plan into motion.

      Step one. Find Samantha Dark.

      Step two. Learn the city.

      Step three. Use the right bait. He thought he was staring at the best bait he’d ever seen. He reached into her purse. “Now, if I know those true-blue FBI types, they generally want to give witnesses their card for contacting later...you know, in case you remember any of those pertinent details they love so much.” He found the business card in her bag. He lifted it up, smiling when he saw the handwritten number on the back. So incredibly helpful. “They just make it too easy.”

      He’d be calling that number, soon enough. But first, he had to get the stage set just right. The perfect location. The perfect distraction.

      And my bait has to be safe.

      He put the card into his pocket and picked up his knife.

      She whimpered, a scared, pain-filled sound.

      Oh, but he did like that sound. His thumb slid along the blade of his knife. Maybe he did have time to play just a bit more.

      * * *

      HE NEEDED TO get his control back, and he needed to get it back now.

      Blake exhaled slowly as he crossed the threshold and entered Samantha’s home. She’d retreated a bit as she stared at him with wide eyes. He shut the door behind him, aware that the tension in his body was just thickening.

      He was rock fucking hard for her. He wanted to pull her into his arms again. Kiss her, taste her...strip her.

      Have her.

      But he knew he was supposed to play things carefully between them. Samantha was important. He’d spent months without her. And if he was finally going to have her back...

      Then they needed to clear the air between them. He had to know just what she was facing.

      And Samantha needed to know just who he truly was.

      “I wanted you from the moment we met.”

      She stood with her back to the picture window. Her arms were crossed over her chest. At his words, her lips parted.

      “You’ve been in my head for months. A ghost, haunting me.” Driving him to the edge. “I can’t do it any longer.”

      Her hair slid over her face as she shook her head. “Do what?”

      He closed the distance between them. His hand lifted, and his fingers curled under her chin. “Play the good-guy role.” A man could only pretend for so long. Then his true colors would start to show.

      “You are good, Blake.” She