Secret Obsession. Robin Perini

her.

      They ignored him. They always ignored him.

      She wouldn’t ignore him for long.

      Abandoning the coffee, he stood and walked out the door. He took a half dozen steps and waited, an alley situated strategically behind him.

      The girl ran out of the coffee shop. “You can’t leave without paying!” she shouted.

      “And you need to learn some manners.”

      He smiled and grabbed her neck in a calculated pressure, using twenty pounds per square inch directed at her carotid artery. He wanted her weak, not unconscious.

      He dragged her behind an industrial waste bin out of sight. Car horns honked, but no one saw. They ignored. Everything. Everyone.

      Her eyes grew wide. She whimpered, trying to break his hold.

      “I don’t think so, girl.” With a smile, he slipped a knife from his pocket. “You’re very rude,” he whispered, pressing the knife against her side. “You must be taught a lesson.” With a quiet move he slit her shirt on the side and flicked the sharp knife through a layer of skin.

      She opened her mouth, but before she could scream he covered her lips with his hand. He pressed her against the brick wall. “I won’t be ignored,” he said softy. “Or dismissed.” He drew the knife around her torso, positioned the blade between her ribs and shoved it in.

      She tried to scream, tried to bite him. “Don’t bother,” he said softly. “You’re bleeding inside. You’ll be dead soon.”

      The waitress tried to shake her head, then she blinked. Life faded from her eyes. He let her drop to the ground.

      With practiced ease he slid his knife through her dress, baring her chest. He didn’t look on her tattooed curves with desire. Just disgust.

      He dragged his blade across the tainted pale skin of her belly, then stopped. She wasn’t worthy of him or his attention. Marred with drawings and piercings.

      Alessandra Cummings had none of those. Alessandra Cummings was perfect.

      She’d run from him, though.

      What a disappointment. He’d forgiven her the slight twice before, but this time she would have to prove herself worthy of him.

      If she didn’t pass the test...

      She would. She would come to understand they belonged together. Had always belonged together. Just the two of them.

      He stared down at the woman’s body, then at his hands, bloody and uncovered. He tugged out a vial from his pocket and sprinkled the body with the concentrated accelerant he’d created.

      The strike of a match and her body was engulfed in flames. He tugged his coat’s cashmere collar around his neck and slipped down the alley before rounding the corner.

      Behind him someone shouted.

      Sirens screamed, but he didn’t care.

      Archimedes had a seduction to plan.

       Chapter Two

      In the midday light, the Chicago skyscrapers cast a shadow, smothering the alley with pockets of darkness. Noah studied Lyssa: her unwavering gaze, the determined set of her jaw, the circles beneath her eyes and her furtive glance at every hiding place, as if waiting for Archimedes to leap out at her.

      “You’re exhausted—” he started.

      “Weary to the bone,” she said, “but not too tired to know what I have to do.”

      Fatigue written on her pale face, she stepped into the light. The sun illuminated the small worry lines in her forehead. She’d changed so much. He hated seeing her this way. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, comfort her and take the pain away. He wanted to tell her everything would be fine.

      It would be a lie, though. He knew the truth and so did she. Archimedes had found her three times. He would find her again eventually. Unless Noah stopped him.

      “Are you going to help me kill him or not?”

      She didn’t back down, but Noah recognized the edge she teetered on. He’d been there. On every mission. The adrenaline rush that kept you going for a while—until you crashed, or made a mistake.

      His plan to hide Lyssa away and then go after the serial killer himself exploded with the destruction of a rocket-propelled grenade. This was not the woman he’d met two years ago, the woman he’d envied his best friend over. The woman whose fluency in five languages intrigued him, whose nomadic childhood had shaped her desire to create a home with Jack. The joyously open woman for whom his friend had decided to give up fieldwork and take a desk job.

      The woman Noah had fallen for before he’d realized how Jack felt about her.

      No, he wouldn’t go there. The woman standing before him had been through hell.

      Noah knew the place well.

      “Lyssa—” he began, not quite sure how—or if—he could convince her to stay at the safe house.

      “Don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise, Noah. I’m sick of being afraid,” she said. “I’m done with running from a man no one can catch.”

      Her green eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t pin down.

      She finally sighed and raised her chin in steadfast resolve. “I’m tired of waiting to die.”

      “I won’t let that happen.” Noah took a step toward her but she shook her head. He paused, then lowered the arm he’d reached out.

      “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Noah. WitSec promised. Reid promised. The only person keeping his promise is Archimedes.” She shifted her bag on her shoulder. “I will find Archimedes. You can help me or I’ll go on my own. Either way, I’m finished postponing the inevitable. It will be over soon.”

      Noah didn’t doubt her resolve for an instant, evoking a shot of admiration he hadn’t expected. Lyssa had turned into a warrior, and damn if he didn’t like her. A lot. Unfortunately, all that fire and vinegar would make his job a hell of a lot more complicated.

      On so many levels.

      If he’d met her in the field, he’d have been hard-pressed to keep his hands off her. He could imagine nights under the stars, working off the adrenaline of the mission in a too-small sleeping bag, hot, sweaty and satisfying.

      As it was, she was Jack’s fiancée—even if his friend was dead. That meant hands off.

      “Fine. I’m on my own.” Straightening her shoulders, she hesitated for a moment, peered up and down the street and the sidewalk, then took a step out of the alley.

      What was she doing? He gripped her arm and pulled her into the protection of the building. Cornering her against the brick wall, he placed a hand next to her ear. “Hold on, Ally. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”

      With only an inch between them, he could feel the slight tremble rush through her. A crackle of awareness vibrated between them. He’d never risked being this close to her and he fought his body’s immediate response. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of lavender, then clenched his fist to stop himself from touching her caramel-colored hair. He stared down at her and her eyes widened, her pupils dilated, her emerald eyes sparked in response.

      This was not good, but he couldn’t deny the truth. Even strained to the limit, she was breathtaking. And he wanted her. He’d always wanted her.

      With a shake of her head, she pressed her hands against his chest. He didn’t move. He didn’t want her taking off again. If he was going to protect her, he had to make her see her vulnerability. “Ally—”

      “Don’t call me that,” she hissed, and with a quick, evasive move, ducked beneath his arm.