Lethal

“You want to make it up?”

“Yes. I love you. I don’t want to fight.”

“You sure can be a bitch.”

“I’ll try not to do it again.”

“It’s miracle I put up with you.” He dipped a hand in his pocket, pulled out his knife and cell phone, and set them on the bedside table. Then he climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Hands planted on either side of her head, he straddled her, staring into her eyes.

“You’re still dressed,” Nikki said. This was the way to calm him. Give her body to him. Give her pride. Give whatever he wanted.

She knew how to play this game.

“Trying to make me happy, Nikki?” he asked, lowering his weight on top of her, his mint-scented breath fanning her face.

“Of course. You’re my husband.” She braced herself, waiting for him to kiss her. But instead of claiming her lips, he rasped his cheek against hers and whispered in her ear.

“I never wanted you, Nikki.”

She couldn’t stop the whimper, deep in her throat.

“You never impressed me. I’ve seen prettier, and you’re not very smart. This has all been about your sister. She said things about me. Things that weren’t nice. And now I’m going to make her pay.”

Nikki recoiled. Too late.

His teeth closed on her ear lobe. They cut into her flesh, pop, pop, pop, severing each layer of skin. A wave crashed over her. Cold, then pain, then the warmth of her own blood.

Eddie spat on the sheet beside her, and when he drew back and grinned at her, his lips were so red it looked like he was wearing lipstick. “I have a party to crash, so I’ll have to hunt you later. But don’t worry, I’ll give your love to your sister.”

He gave her the kind of grinning wink she’d once found charming, then climbed off the bed and left the room.

Risa

By the time the morning sun reached through the window and awakened Risa from her dreamless sleep, Trent was already gone. She breathed deeply, savoring the scent of his body lingering on the sheets, the memories of his loving lingering in her heart.

He’d needed her last night. Needed her as much as she’d needed him. To soothe his pain. To remind him of what life could be—sweet, loving, gentle. To give him a respite, however short, from the evil and death he lived every day.

The life he would go back to once Dryden was captured.

Why couldn’t Trent see how much better their lives would be if they were together? How much stronger they would both be? If only he had felt the strength surging through them, joining them last night. The strength she had felt.

Maybe he had.

She was almost afraid to hope. Drawing a breath of courage, she folded back the covers and crawled from the bed. She didn’t have time to hole up in bed and wallow in a litany of questions and “if only.” Trent had likely been up for hours, if he’d slept at all. Either something had happened or he was sorting through FBI files, searching for evidence that could lead to Dryden’s whereabouts. Either way, she intended to help. Whether he liked the idea or not.

Risa dressed quickly. The aroma of coffee drifted to her the moment she opened the guest room door, beckoning her to the kitchen below. She padded down the stairs, the hardwood cool on her bare feet.

She found him in the inn’s dining room. A carafe of coffee perched on a mahogany table wide enough to feed a houseful of guests. An empty cup sat on the table as well. Waiting for her.

Trent looked up from a file. He wore a starched white dress shirt and pressed tie under his shoulder holster. “Good morning,” he said. And though his brow was once again knit with worry and his face tense with concentration, his voice held a note of something she swore hadn’t been there yesterday.

“Good morning.” She crossed the room and stopped by his side. She wanted to bend down and kiss him like a lover, but she didn’t dare. What they had shared last night was too fragile to stand up to the reality of morning.

Contenting herself with laying her hand on his shoulder, she peered at the file spread open on the table in front of him. Police reports stared back at her. Witness interviews.

He closed the flap of the folder, blocking her view.

She bit her bottom lip. But before she could say something, Trent reached down, pulled a fat file from the box at his feet and set it on the table.

“Newspaper clippings to read with your coffee.”

She didn’t try to hide her smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I need help, and you work cheap.”

He poured her a cup of coffee and set the cup on the table next to the file.

She slipped into the chair and took a sip of the coffee. Rich and hot, the brew washed over her taste buds in a welcome wave of flavor. But what she really needed was the dose of caffeine to sharpen her mind. And her eyes. She looked down at the file folder bulging with clippings. Drawing a fortifying breath, she opened the cover and focused on the first article.

The article documented the disappearance of Ashley Dalton, a twenty-year-old biochemistry student at UW-Superior who had last been seen by her roommate when she’d left for the bus station. Ashley had been planning a trip to Madison to attend Freakfest with her boyfriend the weekend before Halloween. When the bus arrived and she wasn’t on it, the Daltons had filed a missing person report with the police. The article was very dry and factual, but what hit Risa like a kick to the chest was the photo of the young woman.

Though not exactly beautiful, Ashley Dalton had a zest for life that came across in the sparkle of her eyes, clearly visible even in the grainy newspaper photo. A zest and sparkle Dryden had stolen.

Risa paged through three more entreaties for information on the missing girl before reaching the article proclaiming her body had been found by a deer hunter. Risa’s throat felt thick, but she pushed on.

The next article sported several photos covering Ashley’s funeral and details of the ongoing investigation. Risa read the article before turning her eyes to the photos.

The first was another photo of Ashley as vibrant as the first. Next to that was a photo of a detective standing in the wooded area where Ashley’s body had been found. Risa was about to ask Trent if he recognized the detective when the third photo caught her eye.

It was a shot of the funeral. Ashley’s bereaved parents standing at the door of the church, their arms encircling their two younger daughters as if they were afraid the girls would be snatched away from them like their older sister had been.

However, it wasn’t the bereaved family that caught Risa’s attention, but the sliver of a face hovering in the background. A familiar square-shaped jaw. Kindly eyes turned down in sorrow.

Gordy Young.

A gasp tore from her lips. Shock stuttered through her mind.

“What? What do you see?” Trent craned his neck to look at the photo.

She angled the clipping toward him and pointed. “It’s Gordy Young, the guard at the prison.”

Trent stared at the picture. “It sure is.”

Questions spun through her mind. What was Gordy doing at the funeral of Dryden’s first victim? Was he Ashley’s friend? A relative?

Risa squinted, searching Gordy’s face. Even though the old photo didn’t carry a lot of detail, the guard looked drawn, tired, his apparent mood matching that of Ashley’s parents and sisters.

Images flooded Risa’s mind in a jumble.

Gordy calling her to the prison to stop her sister from marrying Dryden.

Gordy’s eyes hardening in hatred at the sound of Dryden’s name.

Gordy’s lethal words as he stood with her at the prison entrance. Scum like that doesn’t deserve to live. Not one more day. Not even if it’s in a hellhole like this.

Gordy couldn’t have helped Dryden. He hated Dryden. He would never help free a serial killer.

Would he?

I didn’t give Dryden anything. The only thing I wanted to give him was a bullet in the head.

A cold finger traveled up Risa’s spine.

Trent raised his gaze to hers, the look in his eyes telling her his mind was traveling a similar path. Without saying a word, he bent and shuffled through the files in the box at his feet. He withdrew a file and spread it open on the table.

He scanned through the pages with narrowed eyes. “Ashley Dalton had a boyfriend. Lived in Madison. Going to school at the technical college.”

“She was supposed to meet him that weekend.”

“Right. The police thought he might be a suspect for a while. But they cleared him.” Trent plucked a report from the stack and placed it in front of Risa.

She looked down at the paper. The name of the subject interviewed stared back at her in black and white.

Gordon Young.

She raised her eyes to Trent’s. It was clear to her now. Gordy’s attempt to keep Nikki from marrying Dryden. His hatred for the killer. His comments about Dryden deserving to die. It all made sense. “Gordy didn’t let Dryden out to help him.”

Trent nodded. “He planned to kill him.”

Nikki

Nikki didn’t know how long she’d been yanking at the speaker wire tying her to the headboard, but her wrist felt cut to the bone. Her eyes burned from crying. The right side of her head throbbed.

She’d been stupid, so stupid she wanted to die. But that meant giving up, and she couldn’t give up. Not yet.

Nikki looked past the blood Eddie had spat on the sheets… past the little lump of skin she knew was a piece of her ear… and beyond to the bedside table. Eddie had picked up his knife before he left, but he’d missed her cell phone. Probably figured there was no way for her to reach it.

Nikki needed to prove him wrong.

She stretched for the phone again, the wire giving just a little bit more.

Trent

Trent gripped the steering wheel hard and swung the car through the twists and curves in the road. With each foot of road whirring under the tires, the bed-and-breakfast faded farther and farther into the past, only the tangle of forest visible now in the rearview mirror.

Subera had wanted to continue with the trap, to send Trent to speak with Young while Risa waited in the B&B. He’d argued that Trent’s stepping out would be Dryden’s cue to make a move. It was a logical plan. One that made sense.

Only Trent couldn’t agree to it.

In the passenger seat next to him, Rees held on, one hand on the door handle, one hand on the dash, the seat belt holding her securely. She hadn’t said two words since she’d discovered the newspaper clipping, but Trent knew she was upset. How could she not be? She’d trusted Young and here his actions had caused many deaths and put Nikki in danger.

Put Risa in danger, too.

In the end, Risa had agreed with Trent. She’d insisted on talking to Young, on finding out what he knew about Dryden. And without his bait, Subera had no choice but to suspend the trap.

Trent glanced toward the passenger seat again. Even with the morning’s turmoil, Trent couldn’t keep his thoughts from straying to what had happened between him and Risa. He could still smell her, still taste her, still feel her. He’d been like a starving man at a banquet table, filling himself with her essence, her energy.

He couldn’t get enough last night. Hell, who was he fooling? He still couldn’t. And that was what worried him. Because now that he’d basked in her light again, how would he go back to living without it?

Drops of rain spattered the windshield, turning the winding road ahead into a glistening black snake, the trees whizzing past into a blurred mosaic of green and brown. Trent switched on the windshield wipers. The rhythmic swish over glass marked each minute and each mile ticking by. Reaching the end of the road, he performed a rolling stop and checked traffic before gunning the car out onto the highway.

Once on the straighter road, Rees loosened her grip and turned to him. “Will the FBI beat us to Gordy’s house?”

“Probably.” He’d prefer confronting Young at the prison, a much more controlled and predictable environment. But the guard had the day off, so Trent didn’t have a choice. “The local sheriff’s department will also be there. Young should be safely detained by the time we arrive.”

Her lips straightened in a determined line. A little crease furrowed her forehead between arched brows. “He’ll talk to me, Trent. I know he will. For Nikki.”

Trent didn’t like the idea of dragging Rees into this mess, but she was right. Young liked her. He’d made that clear when he’d opened up to her the last time they’d questioned him. Besides, if Young was any kind of a man, he would feel guilty for the grief his actions had caused Risa. And the danger he’d caused her sister. If anyone could get him to confess what he’d done, what he knew about Dryden, and where Dryden might be hiding, Rees could. “I can think of no one better for the job.”

She nodded resolutely, and he couldn’t miss the small smile that curled the corners of her lips. “We make a good team.”

“That was never in question.”

“I know.”

“And last night… I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You could start by saying it was terrific.”

“It was terrific, Rees. Better than terrific.”

“Then that’s enough.”

Trent knew it wasn’t enough. Not for Risa. Not for him. But he had no clue what they could do about it.

He piloted the car around a bend in the road. Up ahead, the water of Lake Loyal reflected the gray of the overcast sky, its surface rough from rain. The town itself huddled on the far shore, barely visible through the gloom. He made a sharp turn off the highway and onto another winding country road. “Damn. Didn’t they build any straight roads in this part of the state?”

The dark green sedan blocking the next intersection marked Young’s driveway as clearly as a neon sign. Trent pulled into the driveway and hit the brakes. Plucking his ID and badge from his suit jacket, he opened his window and flashed them at the deputy. “Special Agent Trent Burnell and Professor Madsen.”

The deputy nodded. “Special Agent Subera told me to expect you.”

“Is the suspect in custody?”

“Yes. Inside the house. Go ahead.” The deputy moved to the side and waved Trent around the parked car.

Fastening his ID to the outside of his suit jacket, Trent shifted into gear and followed the deputy’s direction. The car bumped and dipped through the shallow ditch flanking the drive. Once the tires hit gravel, he accelerated toward the small house.

A bevy of cars lined the driveway, their roofs and hoods glistening in the now-steady rain. Deputies and FBI agents swarmed house and grounds.

Trent pulled the car up to the garage. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They climbed the steps to the front door of the raised ranch, cold rain falling steadily on their heads and shoulders. Two agents flanked the door. “They’re waiting for you in the living room,” one of the agents said.

Trent nodded, and he and Rees ducked inside.

The overcast sky was bright compared to the gloom inside the house. Trent paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust. Dark paneling covered the walls of the entry and stretched up the half-staircase to the living room. A small collection of fishing rods and tackle gathered in a pile just inside the door. A glass gun case displayed an impressive assortment of hunting rifles.

Trent and Rees circled the fishing gear and climbed the stairs to a room decorated with photos of men proudly showing off their catches and kills. A typical Wisconsin fishing cabin stood behind them, raised on blocks to avoid spring floods.

Young stood in a dim corner of the room. Hands secured behind his back in cuffs, he towered over the agents around him. Only Subera came close to matching the hulking guard in height.

Young stared past Trent and focused on Rees. A look of shame so deep it was painful to witness passed over his face, then he dropped his gaze to his feet. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

“What happened, Gordy?”

The guard shook his big head. “I didn’t mean for him to get anywhere near your sister. You got to believe I never meant for that to happen.”

“I know,” Risa said, her voice tight. “What I don’t know is why you helped him.”

Young gnashed his teeth so hard Trent could swear he heard the enamel creak with the pressure. “I didn’t help him. I would never help him.”

“You helped him escape, Gordy.”

Color bloomed on the guard’s cheeks, but he kept his mouth shut tight.

“Why did you do it?” Rees prodded. “So you wouldn’t go to prison yourself when you killed him?”

Young raised his eyes to hers. Tears glimmered on his lower lashes. His chin trembled. “Ashley didn’t deserve what he did to her. I wanted to make him pay. He should pay.”

“He was in prison, Gordy. He was paying.”

“You call that paying? Three squares a day, television, exercise equipment, books? Special favors from the guards? A beautiful girl to marry him?” Breath chugged in and out of his flared nostrils. “He deserves a little of the hell he put Ashley and those other girls through. He deserves to die.”

“Maybe so.” Rees shook her head, her eyes sad, dark as bruises. “All I know is that while he was in prison, Nikki was safe.”

“I didn’t mean for him to get loose. I didn’t mean for him to kidnap your sister. I wanted him in pain. I wanted him dead.”

“So what went wrong?”

“I let him into the garbage area, and then I waited for him at the garbage truck’s first stop after the prison.”

“And the truck never arrived,” Risa said.

“It didn’t occur to you that he might not wait for the first stop?” Trent didn’t even try to keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

A bitter taste tinged Trent’s mouth. He understood what Young had done. Understood the reasons behind it. The hatred, the regret, the failure. He understood all of it. Far too well. “Do you have any idea where Dryden might be now?”

The guard closed his eyes in defeat. “If I did, I would have killed him already.”

The chirp of a cell phone cut through the heavy thud of disappointment in Trent’s stomach. He reached for the phone clipped to his belt, but the light indicating an incoming call wasn’t flashing. “It’s not mine.”

Subera looked up from his own phone and shook his head.

The phone chirped again. This time the sound seemed clearly to be coming from Rees’s direction.

“Sorry.” She dipped her hand into her jacket pocket and retrieved her phone. Turning it on, she held it to her ear. “Hello?”

Unease pricked Trent’s skin like a thousand tiny needles.

Rees swallowed hard. Color drained from her face. “Nikki? Is that you?”

Risa

Risa’s pulse thundered in her ears. She clutched the phone tighter, as if it were Nikki herself and if Risa were to let go, she’d lose her sister forever. She lifted her eyes to Trent’s.

He made a few gestures to Special Agent Subera, and then moved to her side. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close and pressed his head next to the phone.

She angled it away from her ear so he could hear. “Where are you, Nik? Tell me. I’ll come and get you.”

A sob, followed by another, sounding some distance from the phone. “I have to… He’s coming for you, Risa.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you call 911? They can locate—”

“No. No. I had to call you. I had to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Nikki, you need help. You need—”

“I need to save you. He wants you, Risa. He’s after you.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he in the house with you?”

“I… I don’t know. He didn’t know I could reach the phone.”

Horrible images of what Dryden would do if he found Nikki on the phone hovered at the edge of Risa’s mind. “Are you sure he won’t walk in on you?”

“I don’t care.”

“Can you get out of there, Nikki? Can you run?”

“No. No.”

“Can you try? Reach a neighbor’s house?”

“No neighbors.”

“Okay, a highway? Someplace where you can get help?”

Her breath came hard over the phone. “I’m… I can’t get away. I can’t. I’m tied, and I reached the phone, but it’s still too tight… I can’t…”

“Slow down, Nikki…”

“I could have gotten away before, but… but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I knew he would… hurt me. Hunt me down. That’s what he likes to do. That’s what he did to—Oh, Risa.” Her voice erupted in anguish. Sobs broke through the static. “I screwed up.”

“It’s okay, Nik.”

“I thought he loved me. He told me he loved me.”

The agony in her sister’s voice ripped her heart. Poor Nikki. Just out of high school, and she’d been through so much. Guilt throbbed in Risa’s chest. “I know, Nik. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Risa.”

“I should have stayed. When we were kids.”

Nikki was quiet so long, Risa wondered if the call had disconnected.

“Nikki?”

“I wanted to hurt you, Risa.” Nikki’s voice faltered. “I wanted Eddie to love me so badly, and I was so scared, but I also wanted to hurt you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“We’ll make it okay. In time. But first, you have to tell me where you are.” Risa glanced at Trent, willing Subera to have located the phone call.

Trent shook his head.

“It was all about you, Risa. Eddie never loved me. You were right. It was always about you.”

“Where are you? Do you know?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nikki. Tell me where you are.”

“Promise you won’t blame yourself. No matter what happens.”

No matter what happens. Risa closed her eyes, trying to beat down the images that phrase evoked. “I promise. Now where are you?”

“I can’t tell you. You’ll come after me. That’s just what Eddie wants.”

“Nikki, please.”

“Give me the phone.” Trent held out his hand.

Risa hesitated. Trent would know what to do. Trent could help. But for a second, she felt that if she let go of the phone, she’d never hear from her sister again.

“Is that Trent?” Nikki said. “Put him on.”

“You’ll tell him where you are?”

“Just put him on the phone. And Risa?”

“What, Nik?”

“I love you.”

Risa’s throat tightened, and tears stung her eyes. “I love you, too, Nik.” Swallowing hard, she handed the phone to Trent.

“Nikki? Where are you?” Trent’s steel-gray eyes drilled into Risa, penetrating, assessing, as if he knew how much turning Nikki over to him cost her.

“Okay, okay. What if I take Risa to the Lake Loyal police station? She’ll be safe there. She won’t come after you.”

“Trent.” Risa reached for the phone.

He twisted away, blocking her with his shoulder. “I promise. It will just be me, the FBI and the sheriff’s department. Now, what can you tell me about the house?”

Nikki

Nikki told Trent all about the cheery farmhouse, the view of Lake Loyal in the distance through the front windows, the wooded bluff to the northeast. Was there a barn? No. Was there a house nearby? No. She told him about the elderly couple and what details she remembered of the drive there from the musty little river cabin. She told them the name of the highway, County PF… or maybe it was FP… or possibly something else entirely.

Trent told her they had a lead on where she was. He promised he would find her. He promised to keep Risa away, keep her safe.

Nikki could count on Trent, she knew. He was a good man. He loved her sister. He had been the one to catch Eddie the first time.

And yet, when Nikki heard the low battery warning on her phone and let her throbbing head fall back against the mattress, she had the chilling sense that she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Trent

Trent pulled the car in front of the police station’s front door and stopped. He stared straight out the windshield, careful not to let his eyes stray to Rees sitting beside him in the passenger seat.

Jaw clamped shut and arms folded across her chest, she sat stone still.

“Schneider is waiting for you.”

Risa didn’t answer. She also didn’t move.

“Subera and the county SWAT team are going to be waiting for me.”

“Damn you, Trent. I need to be there.”

“No, you really don’t. Even Nikki sees that.”

“I need to be there for her. Who knows what she’s been through. She’s bound to be half out of her mind.”

“I’ll take care of Nikki. And I’m going to take care of you, too.”

“By shutting me away where I can’t get hurt.”

“Exactly.”

“I never should have told you about what Dryden said.”

“About you not being willing to sacrifice yourself for your sister?”

“Now you think I’m going to go out of my way to prove him wrong.”

“Are you?”

“Of course not. So why are you trying to keep me from going with you?”

“To keep you safe.”

“I’ll be surrounded by law enforcement. How much safer could I get?”

She might have a point, if that was what was really worrying him. But Trent was focused on Nikki, on the strong possibility they wouldn’t find her alive. “I don’t want you there, Risa.”

“And that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? You don’t want me with you. Even after all that’s happened.”

“I want you with me always. It’s just not possible. I need to know you’re safe. Nikki does, too.”

“Away from you.”

“Yes.”

“So last night didn’t change anything?”

“Last night was a fantasy. Bullets are reality.”

“And this morning with the files, with questioning Gordy... It was all just to keep me quiet?”

“I’m grateful for your help.” He was even more grateful he was with her when she’d received the call from Nikki.

“So you didn’t feel stronger when we were together? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You believe that. Not me.”

“And you never will.”

A cold chill spread over his skin. “I guess not.”

She nodded slowly, staring into his eyes as if searching for a sliver of hesitation, a shred of a chance that she could change his mind.

She wouldn’t find what she was looking for.

“I have nothing to offer you, Risa. And no matter how much both of us wish things were different, we can’t change the way things are.”

Risa opened the car door, climbed out into the steady rain, and closed the door behind her. Turning back for a moment, she peered at him through the rivulets of rain running down the window. The light still burned in her eyes, as strong and pure as ever before. But he could no longer feel its warmth, no longer bask in its brilliance.

He swallowed into an aching throat and watched her walk into the police station.

By the time he was back on the road, Cassidy and Mylinski had narrowed down Nikki’s location to an old house perched on the edge of a bluff overlooking Lake Loyal. The place was the home of a couple named Werner; a retired plumber and teacher whose children had long since grown.

Trent hated to think of what the poor couple had suffered. Or what Dryden had done to Nikki after her phone battery had run out. All he could focus on was trying to save the girl and bring down Dryden.

Those were the only things that mattered.

Trent reached the house at about the same time as SWAT, rain falling steadily now. As part of the Behavioral Sciences Unit, he didn’t take part in too many building breaches, although he trained regularly. Even now, he wouldn’t be the first to flow into the isolated farm house. The county SWAT team owned that honor. But he’d be right behind.

This case was different. This case was personal. And Trent wasn’t about to sit on the sidelines and watch.

Rain dripped off Trent’s hair and trickled down the back of his neck, under his body armor. The dribble of cool felt welcome, like a refreshing slap. The strong tang of cow manure from a dairy farm in the valley sharpened his senses. Or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream.

He stifled a shiver, training his eyes on the non-descript, two-story house barely visible through the new sprouts of leaves on the bushes he crouched behind. No sound came from the house or surrounding yard or trees. Nothing but the patter of cold rain on leaves.

Damn fine day for a hostage situation.

Damn fine day, period.

But if there was any chance of getting Nikki out alive, at least he could keep it from getting worse.

Sheriff’s deputies decked out in SWAT gear silently moved into place, one team stacked at the back door, one at the front.

Trent moved into position near the front door. He quieted his mind, walled off his emotions. Training would guide him now, breaching drills and muscle memory, not fears about what he’d find. Not worries about breaking the news to Risa and snuffing the hope from her eyes.

Drawing his Glock from his shoulder holster, Trent fitted it into his hand. The grip felt comfortable, secure.

Subera fell in behind him, a radio in his hand.

A deputy positioned the battering ram, those behind him armed with assault rifles. At Subera’s signal, the crash of breaking glass came from the rear of the house.

Bam!

Trent tensed at the explosion, an incendiary device used to divert Dryden’s attention from the front door. The deputy drew back the battering ram. With a single heave, he drove it home. Wood cracked. The door flew open. Armed men flowed in behind him, Trent and Subera following on their heels.

Trent’s heart thundered in his ears, pumping adrenaline. He squinted, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the house. He walked deliberately, his weight centered over bent knees, his gun up and ready. Taking turns advancing while the others provided cover, he, Subera, and the SWAT officers moved down the hall.

Kitchen. Clear.

Living room. Clear.

Bathroom. Clear.

They climbed the stairs, the most dangerous area of the house, then headed down the hall. Trent was the first to round the corner into what appeared to be the master bedroom. A prone form lay spread-eagle on the wide bed, wrists and ankles secured to the headboard and footboard by speaker wire. Naked skin. The shocking red of blood.

No, no, no…

“We have the hostage,” he shouted and moved into the room, checking the corners, refusing to let himself feel.

Subera flowed into the room behind him, leading with his weapon. He checked the closet and peered under the bed. “The room is clear.”

Lowering his weapon, Trent rushed to the bed, panic pressing at the back of his eyes. “Nikki.”

Her skin was deathly pale and pocked with bruises. Blood covered the side of her face, sticking her hair to her neck and shoulder. Her lower lip was swollen and red. She stared up at Trent with glassy eyes.

Was she alive?

She blinked.

She was alive.

“Nikki!”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. You’re alive. Thank God, you’re alive.” He grabbed a knitted blanket draped on a nearby chair and covered her. Then he started on the wrist closest to him, adrenaline making his fingers shake as he struggled to untangle the bloody wire. Her dead cell phone lay on the bed.

Nikki let out a sob, and when he finally managed to free her hand, she cupped it to the bloody side of her head.

“My ear… Eddie… he bit my ear.”

Dryden had done it before, to the young woman he’d killed before his wife. Trent shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t be repulsed, but the idea that the bastard had done it to Nikki...

He finished untying her other wrist and helped her into a sitting position while Subera worked on freeing her ankles. Nikki was thinner than Trent had ever seen her. Frail. And she clung to him like a frightened kitten. Subera threw him a robe from the closet, and Trent helped her into it, draping the blanket over her as well to help ward off shock.

Shouts of all clear echoed through the house. All clear. Nikki, but no Dryden.

“You got this?” Subera asked.

“Yeah. Go.”

“You’re going to be okay, Nikki. You’re going home.” Carefully, he coaxed her hand away from her ear. A crescent-shaped bite was missing from the lobe.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No. Not bad.” Not a lie. She could be dead. “You’re going to be okay, Nikki. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Oh, Trent. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A fresh torrent streamed from her eyes and dampened the shoulder of his Kevlar vest.

He smoothed his hand over her tangled hair. She looked so much like Rees now that her hair was dark again. He’d never realized how much the sisters looked alike. “You’re safe. I have you. Risa is going to be so happy.”

“Where is she?”

“I took her to the police station like I told you on the phone. She’s safe. You’re both safe.”

Nikki nodded, gasping for breath between sobs.

Subera strode into the room, his gaze zeroing in on Trent. “Dryden’s gone. And there are no cars in the garage.”

The way he paused, Trent sensed there was something else. “What is it?”

“The owners of the home.”

“Dead?”

Subera nodded. “Found them in the basement.”

“Damn.”

“Eddie… He…” Nikki sobbed.

“Nikki,” Trent said gently. “Did he say where he was going?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just what he was going to do to Risa, like I told you on the phone.” She closed her eyes, fighting back another wave of sobs. “The people downstairs, they weren’t the only ones.”

“We found the man in your car.”

Nikki looked away. “There was a woman, too. He hunted her and killed her.”

“Farrentina Hamilton?”

Nikki nodded. “And the hotel. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Trent hugged her to his shoulder and rubbed his hand over her back, letting her cry. Over her head, he peered out of the farmhouse window. Even with the leaves sprouting on the trees, he could make out the roof of a barn down the hill. He’d been able to hear the cows when they’d first arrived.

Dryden couldn’t have staged his hunt of Farrentina Hamilton here. And he wouldn’t have gagged her. Not Dryden. He would want to hear her screams, her fear. Gagging her would have stolen the whole purpose behind his hunt.

The psychopath had staged his hunt someplace else. And if Trent found Dryden’s hunting grounds, he might find Dryden.

“Nikki? I need to ask you a few questions, okay? Questions that might help us find Dryden.”

Nikki pulled back from his arms. Trying to stand, she swayed on her feet.

“Here, sit down.” Trent guided her into the chair and snugged the blanket around her. He knelt down and wrapped her hands in his. “Do you think you can answer some questions?”

Nikki nodded.

“Were you there, Nikki? When Dryden hunted Farrentina?”

Nikki nodded again.

“Do you remember anything about the place? Anything could help.”

“I’m not sure. It was a cabin. Real small. Linoleum floors, like something from my grandmother’s house.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. So you were inside the cabin?”

“I should have left. I was alone. I could have just run into the woods, but...” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the memory.

“It’s okay, Nikki. You did fine. You survived, and you’re helping us now. Okay?”

Nikki opened her eyes, nodded.

“What do you remember about the outside of the cabin?”

“It was white? And it was higher. Propped up. Like on blocks.”

“Good, good. Were you near a river? Or a lake?”

“River.”

“Were other cabins around?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see any, but there was a road.”

A cabin. In a sparsely populated area. Probably on a flood plain of some kind. “Were there photos in the cabin or anything that might have had the owner’s name on it?”

“I don’t remember. But Eddie talked about the owner.”

A fresh shot of adrenaline pumped into Trent’s bloodstream. “By name?”

“No. He just said the owner would bust a gut if he knew we were there.”

“Bust a gut? Did he say why?”

“Because the guy hated Ed. And Ed had used him. I don’t know.”

Young?

The fishing and hunting equipment and photographs he’d seen at the guard’s house flashed into Trent’s mind. The image of the fishing cabin. A cabin Dryden had found out about somehow. And after Dryden had foiled the guard’s vigilante plan, he couldn’t resist rubbing Young’s nose in the victory by using the guard’s secluded retreat as his private hunting grounds.

Two paramedics with the county EMS filed into the room. As they examined Nikki, Trent told Subera what Nikki had remembered and tried out his theory about the cabin belonging to Gordy Young.

Subera nodded. “We’ll get someone on it.”

“Something on a flood plain. He would need someplace isolated.”

Subera nodded and was gone.

The paramedics coaxed Nikki onto a stretcher. Before they took her to the hospital, Trent asked for a word with her alone.

“It’s going to be okay, Nikki. We’ll find him.”

She nodded, her face still almost as white as the sheet and blanket pulled up to her neck.

“I just have a couple more questions, okay? Then I’ll call Risa and have an officer drive her to the hospital to meet you.”

Nikki’s eyes welled with a fresh surge of tears. “I want to help.”

“When did Dryden leave? Do you know?”

She had only to consider the question for a split second. “I thought I heard him right after I talked to you on the phone.”

“After you talked to me? You’re sure?”

“I was afraid he’d come in, see the phone on the bed.”

“Could he have heard what we said?”

Nikki’s eyes moved back and forth, scanning Trent’s face. “No. He couldn’t have. He would have been angry. He would have killed me.”

Trent wasn’t so sure. The ache assaulting his neck spread into his shoulders and radiated down his back.

Dryden didn’t make mistakes, at least not one this careless. He was far too clever to leave Nikki with access to a phone unless he intended for her to call for help. And Dryden would have a pretty good idea of who Nikki would call if she got the chance.

“He couldn’t have…” Nikki’s eyes grew wide. She held a bloody hand to her mouth. “You don’t think he was…”

“It’ll be all right, Nikki. I’ll make sure of it.” Trent forced the words through a throat already closing with panic. Flagging down the paramedics to take care of Nikki, he started for the door.

Because Trent did think Dryden was listening. He was almost sure of it. And if Dryden heard the phone call, then he knew exactly where Risa was.

Exactly where Trent had left her.

For her own safety.

Risa

Risa measured scoop after scoop of dried coffee into the drip basket of the Lake Loyal Police Department’s coffee maker. The last time she’d been in the station, the place had been filled to bursting. Now that the task force had moved into the nearby church basement, the place was back to what was probably its usual state.

Empty.

Silence echoed through the tiny building, broken by nothing but the tap of an ancient typewriter in the conference room. The friendly dispatcher had been leaving when Risa had arrived, her shift long since over, and apparently at this time of day, there was no need for a replacement. Not that Risa was dying for someone to talk to, but Oneida Perkins seemed on top of everything. Without her at her post, Risa had no way of finding out what was going on.

Risa set the coffee maker to brew, then with nothing else to occupy her, she concentrated on controlling the tension coiling in her muscles like a spring ready to snap. She hated not knowing what was happening. Hated the endless questions spiraling through her mind with no answers in sight.

Had they reached Nikki in time? Was she safe? Had they captured Dryden?

Perching on the edge of a break room chair, Risa dug her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and checked it for the hundredth time in the past hour. Surely Trent would call her soon and let her know what was going on. Surely his need to exclude her didn’t extend to not keeping her informed.

When he had insisted on leaving her at the police station, she’d had to face it. Trent would never see that he could have a better life. He would never give them a chance. Their relationship was really over.

Risa probably should have seen it all along. She had seen it, but she hadn’t wanted to give up. She hadn’t wanted to accept that she and Trent would never be together—could never be together. Now she had no choice. He had made the choice for her. And there was nothing she could do to change it.

Trent would go back to his lonely life. And she would struggle on rebuilding hers. Alone. There would be no happy ending. Not for them.

But there might still be a happy ending for Nikki.

Risa tangled her fingers together in her lap and mouthed a silent prayer. It would be tough for Nikki. She would need time and love and a really good therapist. Risa would find someone. The best. Risa would dedicate herself to rebuilding their relationship, getting Nikki on her feet.

Please, please just let her be safe.

An office door swung open and the ruddy face of Lake Loyal’s police chief peered out. “How are you holding up, Professor?”

She shot to her feet, barely preventing herself from lunging at him. “Have you heard anything?”

“Not a word.”

She nodded and lowered herself back into her chair.

“Sorry.”

“I’m just a little nervous.” With great effort, she managed to bring something resembling a smile to her lips. The police chief had been kind enough to house her in his station and provide her with protection. The last thing she needed to do to repay his dedication was jump all over him.

“I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything. I promise.”

“Thanks, Chief Schneider.”

“No problem. But call me Jeff.” His grin widened, and he nodded in an awkward attempt to be reassuring. “Listen, I ordered lunch from the Schettler Brew Pub down the street. I got you one of their special Black Forest sandwiches. I hope you don’t mind.”

Sandwiches. Lunch. Risa glanced at the clock. It was past one o’clock. She had totally lost track of time. And she wasn’t hungry in the least. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can eat, but that was really nice of you.”

“No problem.” He gave her a smile. “Somebody’s bringing ‘em over. I’m just going to step outside, meet ‘em at the curb. Don is in the conference room doing his reports. He’ll tell you if any news comes in.”

“Thanks, Jeff.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile and strode out the front door.

Risa slumped in her chair. She hated being so powerless. So utterly helpless. She hated not knowing. She hated having to sit and wait.

She was definitely all about hate, at the moment.

It was so quiet. Even the plunk of Don’s search-and-peck typing had stopped. Nothing to distract her. Nothing to focus her wild tumble of thoughts. Thoughts of what was happening this minute while she sat in the station alone. Thoughts of what would happen in the future, after Dryden was caught, after Trent’s role was over, after he left her alone, struggling to help Nikki while patching her own shattered life back together.

All over again.

Hate and self-pity. She couldn’t forget the self-pity.

A thump sounded from outside the door to the station. The door that Schneider had just walked through.

She straightened in her chair, trying to identify the sound. Something hitting the wall of the station? Or the distant slam of a car door?

The sandwiches?

Or could it be Trent? Was he back? Did he have Nikki?

Risa rose from her chair just as the front door swung open.

Emotionless eyes focused on her. A smile slithered over thin lips. And one fist balled around the handle of a knife, the gleam of its blade muted by smears of fresh blood.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the radio squawk. Trent’s voice shouting over the airwaves. A warning that Ed Dryden was on his way.

“Hello, Risa. Miss me?” Dryden’s voice rang with a note of sadistic glee. He stepped toward her. His athletic shoes, wet from the outdoors, squeaked on the tile floor. “Not much security in this place, is there?”

She stood riveted to the spot, her legs frozen, her mind paralyzed. Dryden. Here. Coming for her.

“I sure missed you.” His grin widened. He took another step forward. “Nikki is a nice piece of ass, but she can’t hold up a conversation.”

Terror clogged her throat, bitter as bile. Finally getting her feet to move, she lurched backward, running into the legs of her chair and almost going down in a heap.

“Of course, maybe my memory of you is a little enhanced. First your roof stunt, that was stupid, and you don’t seem to be very talkative today. What’s the matter?”

Regaining her balance, she backed away from him, step after step, groping for the wall behind her. She had to find help.

“I sure hope your quietness isn’t permanent. I was looking forward to hearing you beg. I’ve thought about it a lot. You begging. You screaming.”

Scream. She had to scream. She forced a sound past her lips. A gurgle echoed through the tiny station, then a piercing shriek.

He threw his head back in a laugh. “There it is. Too bad no one can hear you.”

No one—Police Chief Schneider? Don, the cop typing? Had Dryden killed them both? Slit their throats like he had Deputy Perry’s? She looked to the front door, desperately willing Schneider to walk in, gun in hand.

The door remained closed—the entire station silent except for the relentless pounding of her heart.

“Don’t you think I would take care of the loose ends before I set foot inside that door? I’ve planned for this meeting. Every detail.”

Alarm spun through her mind in a dizzying whirl. She grasped the wall behind her and willed her mind to clear. She had to stay levelheaded. She had to focus.

“I don’t want any interruptions.” He lowered one eyelid in a wink. “We have too much catching up to do.”

Her mind groped for a sliver of hope. She’d heard Trent’s voice on the radio. She’d heard him say the police were on the way. Trent was on the way.

But would he make it in time?

Risa eyed the blade in Dryden’s hand. No. Trent would never reach her in time. She had to get away from Dryden herself. She had to run for it.

She tensed the muscles in her legs, ready to spring. There had to be a back door to the station. There had to be. It was her only chance. Whirling, she dashed down the hall.

Dryden’s shoes squeaked into motion behind her.

Faster.

Closer.

Grabbing the door frame, she whipped into the conference room. A body slumped over a typewriter. Blood oozed red and wet down on the tabletop.

Risa’s stomach retched.

Beyond the body, a neon Exit sign gleamed. Her escape. Her only chance. She forced her feet to keep moving.

Dryden turned into the room.

Two steps behind her.

One step.

She reached for the doorknob. Her fingers grasped cold metal.

His hand grabbed her hair. Yanked. Her head snapped back. Momentum slammed her into the door. She fell, her knees hitting the hard tile.

No, no, no.

She kicked backward, connecting with his shin.

Hauling her to her feet by her hair, he pinned her between his body and the closed door.

She thrashed, kicking out, striking nothing but air. She struggled to turn around, to claw at him with her fingernails, to bite. Anything. She didn’t want to die.

“Stop.” A cold edge of steel pressed against her neck.

Risa froze. A whimper climbed up her throat, and she forced it back.

“Where were you going? We have so much to talk about.” Dryden’s breath fanned the side of her cheek. Mint. As if he’d freshened it just for her.

A shudder racked her body, a convulsion she couldn’t control.

“You don’t seem happy to see me, Risa. You don’t seem happy at all. Why is that?”

Pain wrenched her neck and throbbed in her knees and scalp.

“Is it because you like to be in control? Is it because you like to set a guy up and then humiliate him? Do you like to play those games?” Fingers still entwined in her hair and blade pressed to her throat, he pulled her back past the body slumped over the old typewriter. He pushed her onto the table beside Don, and flattened her cheek to the top.

Snick.

A handcuff clapped around her right wrist, then her left. Then using her hair, he tugged her back to her feet and steered her for the door. “You like games, don’t you? Well, I have a game for you, professor. And you’re going to love it.”

Trent

Trent reached under Jeff Schneider’s bloody body. Finding the column of his neck, he felt for a pulse. A soft, irregular rhythm beat under his fingertips. “He’s still alive. Barely. Call for an ambulance. Now.”

“On their way,” someone shouted.

Cassidy raced up beside him and fell to his knees. “I’ve got him.”

Trent didn’t argue. Leaving Schneider in the detective’s hands, he scrambled to his feet and rushed into the police station.

The station swarmed with FBI and deputies. Subera stood in the center of the entry hall. He spun to face Trent. His eyes were dark. His face heavily lined. “The cop in the conference room is dead. Throat cut. Name’s Don Largent.”

“Risa?”

Subera shook his head. “Not here. No sign of her.”

Dryden had Rees.

Dizziness twisted through him. He shook his head, willing it away. He had to focus. He had to concentrate.

“We put an APB out for the black-and-white he stole.” Subera’s face sharpened with concern. “There’s no sign that he killed her, Burnell. She’s probably still alive.”

Of course she was still alive. Killing her was only part of Dryden’s fantasy. And acting out the fantasy was paramount. “He’s going to hunt her.”

“The Young cabin?”

“Maybe.” Trent hoped it was that easy. “Have the men you sent reached the cabin yet?”

“Not yet. Local cops might have.”

Trent spun on his heel and headed for the door. Young’s cabin was nearly thirty miles away. He had no time to lose. “Call me when you hear anything. I’m going to meet them there.”

Negotiating around the ambulance and emergency medical team attending to Schneider, Trent made it to his car and then out onto the highway. His mind raced, fast as spinning wheels on pavement.

It didn’t feel right. None of this felt right.

If Dryden had set Nikki up to make the phone call, he would have known law enforcement was on the way. He’d have counted on them wasting time staking out the house, evacuating the surrounding neighbors, setting up their assault. He’d have figured out that the operation would drain the deputies and FBI personnel from Lake Loyal, leaving only the normal skeleton crew of LLPD officers.

But that wasn’t all.

Dryden also would have known that once they found Nikki, she would tell them about the cabin where he’d hunted Farrentina. She would tell them he’d left right after her phone call. And they’d rush back to the police station to find Schneider’s and the other officers’ bodies and Risa gone.

Dryden could have easily prevented all of that. All he’d had to do was kill Nikki. But he’d chosen not to.

Why?

Certainly not love. A psychopath like Dryden wasn’t capable.

And why would he take Risa to the cabin he’d used before? The one Nikki knew about? The place law enforcement would look first?

He wouldn’t.

But if not Young’s cabin, where?

Trent’s head pounded. His heart ached so hard it took his breath away. If ever there was a time for him to think how Dryden thought, to feel what Dryden felt, to be part of Dryden, that time was now.

He swung the car onto a wide area of the highway’s shoulder designed for drivers to appreciate the view. Below him, through a space in the trees, Lake Loyal resembled hammered pewter. The town lined the eastern side of the lake, a mix of old cabins slowly being overtaken by mini mansions dotted the north. A park and forest preserve circled the rest of the lakeshore. Beautiful, natural, the type of place people weary of modern life could go to recharge.

Last night, for a moment at that bed-and-breakfast, Trent had felt as if he and Risa were carefree tourists. Relaxing. Recharging. Reclaiming their lives.

Now he felt empty.

Trent pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

Think.

He needed to think.

Trent had studied Dryden. Surely he could come up with the place the psychopath would take Rees—the object of his obsession—to play out his fantasy.

When Dryden had killed his wife, he’d taken her to his hunting cabin in the north woods. A place where he had escaped the humiliation of his life. A place where he’d hunted prey weaker than himself. A place where he was king and master.

He no longer had such a place.

So where would he go?

Trent opened his eyes and raked a hand through his hair. The answer had to be there. Buried somewhere in Dryden’s mind. Somewhere in his past behavior. Born from his insecurities, his desires, his twisted rage.

He’d taken Farrentina to Young’s cabin to stage his hunt, because he knew the guard would “bust a gut,” as Nikki had said. He’d displayed Farrentina’s body on Rees’s front porch to scare her. To taunt law enforcement. And then the locket they’d found… Dryden’s way of announcing to Trent that Rees was already his. That he was going to steal her out from under their noses. And with his bold entrance into the hotel, his slashing of the hotel clerk’s and Deputy Perry’s throats—he’d almost succeeded.

This time he had.

Trent gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. The answer was there. He could feel it.

Before Dryden had gone to prison, his choice for a hunting site had been deeply personal. A place he felt strong. A place where he was the master. All that had changed after he’d broken from prison. Now it seemed his choices were all designed to exact revenge. On Young. On Risa. On law enforcement.

Who would Dryden revenge himself against this time? Who would Rees’s death hurt the most?

Trent’s heart stilled in his chest. A pain erupted behind his eyes, so sharp he lowered his forehead against the steering wheel. He knew just who Rees’s death would hurt the most. And so did Dryden.

Trent himself.

He slammed the butt of his hands on the steering wheel. Pain thundered up his arm. He knew where Dryden had taken Rees. Trent had set up the place himself and had made an effort to show Dryden right where it was. And now the killer had taken Risa there, planned to let her loose, hunt her, kill her, and display her body.

Trent lost a part of himself to Dryden two years ago, but he wasn’t going to lose Rees. He’d die first.

And he’d take that murdering son of a bitch with him.

Risa

Hands bound by handcuffs, Risa stared out the rain-spotted windshield at the canopy of trees stretching over the road and struggled to force the images of Farrentina Hamilton’s body from her mind. She couldn’t think of what Dryden would do to her if she didn’t get away from him. She had to focus. She had to play this right.

If she didn’t, she was dead.

Next to her, Dryden draped a hand over the wheel of the stolen police car and wove around the curves as if he were on a Sunday drive without a care in the world.

But Risa knew his nonchalance was only a show. She could feel the violence coiled under his skin. See the contempt burning in his eyes every time he looked at her.

And she could taste the fear, like rusted tin creeping up her throat, gagging her, choking her.

The leafy canopy opened before them, revealing the Victorian bed and breakfast she’d left just this morning. But unlike the warm glow that filled the house then, now it was dark, the windows staring like soulless eyes. Rain glistened on the steep roof.

“The FBI has a more generous expense account than I ever imagined.” Dryden’s thin lips twisted into a smile. He turned to stare at her, his eyes as cold and deadly as the blade sheathed by his side. “Kind of them to clear out and leave the place to us now, isn’t it?”

“The FBI is going to figure out where we are.”

“You mean Burnell?” A bitter laugh sounded deep in his throat. “I hope he does. He’s going to like what I have planned.”

The image of Farrentina once again flashed through Risa’s mind. Dryden would display her body, too. Display her so Trent would find her. So the image of her mutilated corpse would haunt him the rest of his days.

“Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Risa bit the inside of her bottom lip until the coppery tang of blood drowned out the taste of fear. She knew Dryden’s game. He wanted to see terror in her eyes. Hear it in her screams. Revel in it. Feed on it.

She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction.

She pursed her lips together and stared straight ahead through the windshield. The hard metal edges of the handcuffs securing her wrists bit into her skin. Her scalp and knees throbbed with each rapid pulse of her heart. But none of it mattered. She wouldn’t let it. He could say whatever the hell he pleased. She wouldn’t play her role in his fantasy.

He stopped the stolen police car at the foot of the path leading to the bed-and-breakfast’s front door and turned toward her. “Don’t want to hear about my exhibit, eh?”

“Not particularly.”

Reaching a hand to her face, Dryden ran a cold finger along one cheekbone.

She tensed to fend off the tremor of revulsion.

“Oh, Risa. So brave. So in control. You always have to control everything, don’t you? That’s your problem, you know. You’re a controlling bitch. Even your dim-witted sister picked up on that.”

Risa continued to stare straight ahead, letting his words hit her and bounce off.

“Well, you might as well give it up. You might as well let go. Because I’m in control now.” He moved his hand into her hair, tangling the strands around his fingers. His grip tightened.

Pain seared her scalp. Her eyes watered.

Opening the door, he forced her across the seat and out the driver’s side after him.

Her bruised knees hit pavement. A grunt tore from her lips.

He peered down at her, eyes gleaming. “Get up.”

Still gripping her by a fistful of hair, he yanked her to her feet and pulled her behind him, across the wet lawn.

Limping, she struggled to keep up. Blood oozed from her knees and stuck to the torn denim of her jeans. Her scalp burned as if it were on fire. Cold rain drenched her hair and trickled into her eyes.

He stopped at the edge of the woods and pulled her against him, his face just inches from hers. His breath fanned her, sharp with mint. “I’m not as inadequate as you thought, am I? Not as inadequate as you described in your article.”

She drew in a shaky gasp. “It was a psychological profile. It wasn’t personal.”

Even as the words left her lips, she knew she had made a mistake.

“Of course it was personal. I let you in. I talked to you. I was nice. And you? You weren’t nice at all. You were… inadequate. Wasn’t that what you wrote about me? Inadequate?”

Risa swallowed hard but didn’t say anything. She didn’t remember exactly what she had written in the article, but he was likely right about her word choice. Inadequate in his relationships with women. He felt belittled by his mother, humiliated by his wife. A man who believed that if anything didn’t go exactly his way, he was being victimized, and he fought back against perceived slights by victimizing others. She couldn’t deny what she’d written. What she’d written was the truth.

Still gripping her hair with one hand, Dryden reached to his knife with the other, sliding it from its sheath. “I’ll show you inadequate, Professor Risa Madsen. I’ll make you choke on it.”

Risa’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her throat constricted.

No.

She couldn’t let him see her fear. Couldn’t let him feel the tremors racking her body. She concentrated on breathing. In and out. In and out. She’d be damned if she’d give him what he wanted.

She’d be damned.

He raised the knife in front of her face. Rain dripped down the blade, turning red when it hit the remnants of blood. He smiled at her. “Have you ever been hunting?”

Risa fought to keep her breathing even.

“No?” His smile twisted into a sneer. “Well, let me tell you about it. It’s like a contest. A contest between man and beast. And the strongest—the most adequate, if you will—wins.”

“Go to hell, Dryden.”

“You first, Risa, darling. You first.” He untangled his fingers from her hair and released his hold.

She almost gasped. But her relief didn’t last long.

Circling one arm around her middle, he pinned her back against his chest. Against the length of his body. “First things first.”

He fit the sharp edge under the first button of her blouse. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced upward. The button fell to the grass and the fabric parted.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek. The coppery flavor of blood clogged her throat and almost made her gag.

He sliced off another button. Her blouse fell open further, revealing the top edge of her black lace bra. “Mmm. But I told you I prefer white. Clean, pure white. Or no bra at all.”

Risa forced herself to swallow the screams rising in her throat. She had to find a way to escape. To catch Dryden off guard. Before fear swamped her. Before Dryden’s knife put an end to everything.

He’d gone to great lengths to find the article she’d written for the academic journal. Maybe he would go to equal lengths to read more.

“I’m writing a book, Ed. A book about you.” Her voice sounded remarkably steady, as if this was an ordinary man she was talking to, an ordinary conversation.

As if he hadn’t heard her, he fit the knife under the next button and sliced. The button popped in the air.

“Even if you kill me, people will find it. They’ll read it. In fact, killing me will probably make it a bestseller.”

His mouth twitched. “And why should I care about that?”

“I thought you might want to read it before it was published.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” His farm-boy face twisted in disgust. He shook his head slowly. “You don’t matter anymore, sweetheart. You can’t control things. You’re nothing. And when I get done with you, you’ll be less than nothing.”

He cut off another button. Her blouse gaped open to her navel.

She had to get away from him. She couldn’t wait until he played out his hunting scenario. Once that happened, it was all over.

Once that happened, she was dead.

Dryden licked his thin lips and eyed her bra. He pulled the knife back and craned his neck as if to get a better view. His grip on her arms relaxed slightly.

And that was all she needed.

Coiling all her strength in her legs, she lurched back against him, breaking his grip and sending him sprawling backward onto the lawn. By some miracle, she stayed on her feet, whirled and, in two strides, plunged into the woods.

Raspberry bushes ripped her skin and snagged her blouse. Trees and bushes tore at her face and pulled her hair. Rain pelted her face. She fought on, racing through the woods. Scrambling to put distance between herself and Dryden.

His curses split the air like gunshots. Bushes crashed behind her. His footfalls thundered in her ears, even over the pounding of her heart.

Animal panic clawed inside her. She forced her feet to move faster over rain-slick ground.

He slammed through the brush behind her. Faster. Closer. His fingers clawed at the sleeve of her blouse.

She yanked her arm free, rending the fabric.

He grabbed again. His fingers closed around her flesh. Biting into her arm. Bruising. Holding.

Oh God, he had her.

Risa’s feet skidded out from under her.

Dryden held her up, keeping her from falling to the forest’s floor. His fingers bruising her arm, he slammed her against the trunk of a tree and pressed his elbow into her back, pinning her.

Rough bark ground into her cheek and chest.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” His guttural growl rasped in her ears. “You’re not a person. You’re a beast. An inadequate beast. You’ll do whatever I say. And when I’m finished with you, you’ll know who your master is. Your master is me.”

White noise rang in her ears and blotted all thought from her mind.

His hand closed around her throat, he pulled her back against his body. In the corner of her eye, she saw the knife, the wet steel flashing red. He touched the blade to her chest, just below the notch in her collar bone. “And this is how I’m going to do it, Risa. This is how I’m going to cut you.” He drew down on the knife, the cold edge slicing into her skin.

A scream erupted from her throat, wild and piercing and raw.

Trent

A scream gashed the air.

Trent stomped the brake and slammed to a stop behind the black-and-white Dryden had stolen from the police station. Throwing open the door, he leaped out and hit the ground running.

Trent had called 911. He’d called Subera. The FBI and the county sheriff’s department were on their way. But he couldn’t wait for them. He couldn’t wait for anything. He had to find Rees before it was too late.

He didn’t even glance at the towering Victorian house. Dryden wouldn’t take her there. Not until she was dead. Not until he was ready to exhibit her body, probably in the still-rumpled sheets where she and Trent had made love.

The bastard would never get the chance.

Trent raced across the lawn, the grass slick with rain. His shoes skidded with each stride, but he managed to keep upright, keep running.

Another scream.

The image of Dryden’s hands on her—his knife cutting her skin, stealing her precious life—throbbed behind his eyes.

No.

Trent’s hands broke out in a cold sweat, the grip of his Glock slippery in his fist. He raced in the direction of the scream. When he reached the edge of the woods, he slowed. He couldn’t just crash through the trees. He needed to get the drop on Dryden. He needed a clear shot so he could take him out without hurting Risa.

Trent surged into the woods, moving as fast as he dared and as quietly as he could. Thorns ripped at his suit jacket. He tore free and pushed on. Rain mixed with sweat, soaking his hair, dripping into his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and strained to see through the brush. Through the thick cloak of leaves.

Up ahead he could hear the low tones of Dryden’s voice. An eerie, almost musical sound. But he couldn’t hear Rees. No screams. No soft hum of her voice. Not even whimpers of pain. Where was she?

His heart seized in his chest.

Was he too late? Had it taken him too long to figure out where Dryden had brought her to stage his hunt? Was she already dead?

No.

He couldn’t lose Rees. He couldn’t. She was his light. His hope.

Dryden’s voice still hummed through the twisted branches of oak and hickory, breaking the quiet patter of rain on leaves.

Drawing a deep breath then holding it, Trent struggled to make sense of the killer’s words over the pounding of his pulse. He struggled to hear a sound from Rees. Any sound. Any sign she was still alive.

Nothing. Only the rain. Only Dryden’s voice.

Damn Dryden. Damn him straight to hell.

If Dryden had killed Rees, he wouldn’t come out of the forest alive. Trent wouldn’t wait for the courts to dispense justice this time.

He held the Glock ready in front of him. Picking his way around trees and through brambles, he raced as quickly and quietly as he could. His breath chugged from his lungs like a steam engine.

A flash of color cut through the green cloak of leaves. A deep burgundy.

Risa’s blouse.

Heart pounding high in his chest, Trent crept closer.

Dryden stood behind her, one hand on her throat. One hand holding the knife to her chest. Her blouse hung open, revealing tatters of a black lace bra. Blood oozed from a wound on her chest. The son of a bitch had cut her.

But she was alive.

Trent trained the Glock on Dryden’s head and fingered the trigger. From this angle, Trent couldn’t get a clear shot. He needed a better angle. He lowered the gun and stepped silently to one side.

Dryden raised the knife, pressing the blade against Rees’s throat. Glancing up, he looked across the space and straight into Trent’s eyes. “Well, if it isn’t the FBI.”

Trent’s heart seized. He lifted the gun. “Let her go.”

Rees’s eyes found his.

Dryden stared as if he hadn’t heard a word. Pupils dilated. “The throat is delicate. One slice of a sharp blade, and a person can bleed to death.”

“Let her go, and put down the knife.”

Dryden shook his head slowly. “You put down that gun.”

“Shoot him, Trent. Do it,” Risa said.

Trent judged the angle. With Dryden holding Rees in front of him like a shield, Trent couldn’t be sure his shot would hit the mark. He also couldn’t be sure the knife against Rees’s throat wouldn’t do its job. Whether he hit Dryden with a bullet or not.

“Now,” Dryden said.

“Shoot.”

Giving up his weapon was a mistake. He would be powerless. Dryden would be in control. A federal agent should never surrender his weapon.

But Rees…

Trent lowered the gun.

“Do you know how easy it is to field dress a deer? I could do it with my eyes closed.”

Trent hesitated. Without his gun, he would be powerless to stop Dryden. He was too far away to rush him. By the time he got his hands around the killer’s neck, Rees would be dead.

Trent listened for the sound of sirens, the hum of cars pulling up the long, twisting driveway. Nothing reached his ears but the steady rhythm of rain hitting leaves.

“First step is slicing through the windpipe and esophagus. Right about here.” Dryden pressed the knife’s edge against the tender skin of Rees’s throat. A thin line of red coated the length of the blade.

Rees drew in a sharp breath, but she didn’t move a muscle.

“One slash, if your knife is sharp enough. Then when you dump the intestines, you can pull the whole thing through. Real slick.”

“Stop.” Trent held his hands in front of him, the Glock dangling by one finger.

“Don’t do it, Trent. Shoot him. Please.”

“Waiting for the demonstration?” Dryden said. “I’m the best. I’m sure you can learn something.”

Trent tossed the gun. It landed with a thunk in a thicket of wild raspberry.

A smile curled Dryden’s lips. “That’s better. You know, it’s not nice of you to interrupt me, Burnell. I’ve been waiting to hunt this one for a long time.”

Trent’s gut clenched. This one. Not Risa. Not a fellow human being. But game to be hunted. A female to avenge himself against. To degrade. To defile. “More agents are on the way, Dryden. Along with nearly the entire sheriff’s department. You let her go, maybe you can make a run for it.”

Dryden cocked his head to the side. “Now why would I do that? She’s the reason I escaped. I’m not leaving her behind. Well, not alive, anyway.”

“You’ll never make it out of here.”

Dryden looked away from Trent as if dismissing him and stared down at Risa.

One slice of the blade and she would be dead. Trent had to keep Dryden’s attention until backup arrived. He took a step toward Dryden.

“Stop right there, Burnell.”

Trent kept his gaze riveted to Dryden’s face, resisting the temptation to meet Risa’s eyes. Once he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull his focus away, and he needed to stay riveted on Dryden.

Dryden loved to show how clever he was, how superior. A tendency Trent might be able to use to his advantage until backup arrived.

Where the hell were those sirens?

“There aren’t too many who have fooled me in my career, Dryden. But you did. How?”

“Why? Are you writing a book, too?”

“You let Nikki make that call.”

“You don’t think I’d be careless enough to leave a phone sitting around, do you?”

“And you knew who she would call.”

“Big sis, of course. Nikki would never have the guts to turn herself in. Not after helping me kill. You didn’t know your little sister was a killer, did you big sis?” He glanced down at Rees, his face inches from hers. Darting his tongue between thin lips, he ran the tip from her chin to her hairline.

Risa recoiled.

For a moment, Trent balled his hands into fists, then he made his fingers relax. He couldn’t let Dryden see that he’d gotten under his skin. He had to play it cool until backup arrived. He had to keep the conversation going. “But you couldn’t have known what would happen after that.”

“I knew exactly what would happen. You would shut her away somewhere you thought she’d be safe. And then you and your legions in blue would rush in to save the day.”

Trent flinched inwardly. He’d indeed shuttled Rees off to the police station because he thought she’d be safer there. Safer away from the action, away from flying bullets, away from him. He’d thought he was protecting her, and here he’d put her in danger. He’d played right into Dryden’s hands.

Dryden had profiled him.

“You really are predictable, Burnell. All that was left for me to do was kill the few cops at the station and collect my prize.”

Like hell. Trent tensed, ready to spring.

Sirens carried on the still air, their screams faint in the distance.

Dryden jerked his head in the sound’s direction.

Rees’s elbow shot back, slamming into Dryden’s ribs.

The breath left his lungs in a whoosh. He folded in the middle, protecting his ribs from another blow.

She lurched away from him, sprawling to the forest’s floor. Out of Dryden’s grip. Away from his blade. Out of Trent’s line of fire.

His gun.

Trent lunged forward, falling to his knees in the clump of raspberry. He clawed through the bushes. Thorns tore into his flesh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rees scramble to her feet just as Dryden grabbed for her. His hand closed around her arm.

Abandoning the gun, Trent bolted for them. He slammed into Dryden full speed, knocking the killer to the ground, landing on top of him.

“Run, Rees!”

Trent slammed a fist into Dryden’s face, the force shuddering up his arm. He punched a second time. It wasn’t until he drew back his arm to hit him a third that Trent felt cold slice into his side, just below the rib cage.

Dryden pulled the blade back and thrust it at him again.

Trent caught Dryden’s arm, pulling it back, holding it down. He slammed the killer’s arm against the ground, once, twice, trying to jar the weapon free.

Dryden’s free hand found his face. Fingers clawed and jabbed his eyes.

Trent turned his head, trying to protect himself. Trying to see. Dryden’s knife hand slipped in his grip.

Trent dug his fingers into the killer’s wrist. Even in the heat of battle, he could feel the sticky wetness soaking his shirt, draining his strength. He had to hold on. He couldn’t let Dryden work his knife arm free. He couldn’t—

A thud sounded near his ear.

Dryden’s head whipped to the side. Trent saw a flash of movement as Rees’s foot drew back again. Careening forward, her boot landed with another thud against Dryden’s temple. Then another. A scream built and burst from her, echoing through the trees, and she kicked and kicked until Dryden dropped the knife, and his clawing fingers stilled.

Sirens screamed in the distance, winding their way toward the Lilac Inn.

Rees fell to her knees beside him. “I couldn’t find the gun. I couldn’t—”

A smile crept over his face despite the pain in his side. “Nice kick.”

“I… I wanted to kill him. I just couldn’t stop.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Is he dead?”

Trent reached for Dryden’s throat, intending to check for a pulse. The pain in his side stopped him.

“You’re hurt.”

Trent looked down at his blood soaked shirt. Knife wound. Could be bad. “Nikki is all right, Rees. She’s safe.”

Tears blossomed in Risa’s eyes.

He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it was over. All over. But first he had to make sure Dryden wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again.

Setting his teeth against the pain, Trent checked Dryden’s pockets and retrieved a key. “Cuffs?”

Risa stretched her bound hands toward him. He unlocked the handcuffs and handed them to her. “You’d better do this.”

She rolled Dryden face down and clicked the bracelets on his wrists.

The sirens were growing louder now, winding their way up the long driveway.

Hands now free, Risa quickly unbuttoned Trent’s shirt and pulled it off him. Wadding it into a ball, she held it against the wound in his side and pressed down hard. “Lean back.”

Trent did as ordered. Fate had given him another chance. At life. At love. At happiness. And he needed all the strength he could muster to grab it and hold on with both hands.

He had only to find the right words. His gaze dropped from her face and landed on the long cut between her breasts marring her perfect skin. His gut clenched, sending pain shooting up his side. “He cut you, too.”

He struggled to sit up.

She pushed him back down. “It hurts like hell, but it’s shallow. Really.”

Dizziness hovered on the edge of Trent’s mind. “I have to say something… before I pass out.”

“Trent, maybe you should—”

“Please.”

She nodded.

“You were right, Rees. About all of it.”

Worry creased her forehead and clouded her eyes.

He needed to explain. To make her understand. He needed to let her know she could believe this time.

That he believed.

He found her hands at his side and covered them with his own. “These past two years I’ve been letting him beat me. Bit by bit. Piece by piece.”

Cars screeched to a stop in the distance. Shouted orders bounced off the trees.

Tears welled in Risa’s eyes and spiked her lashes. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Wait. Hear me out. I want to make you understand.”

“I do understand.”

“Then I want to say it, make it real.”

A smile fluttered over her lips. She nodded.

“I was letting Dryden win.” His voice hitched. He forced himself to continue. “But no more. No more. I’m going to fight. I’m going to be better. Open. Trusting. Happy. And I can only do that with you beside me.”

Footfalls echoed through the woods. Dark figures fought through the brambles toward them.

“I never stopped… you know. Loving you. You make me a better man. That damned light of hope...”

Tears ran down her cheeks in little streams, mixing with the rain. Tears that washed away his sins and made him whole.

“I love you, Trent. I always will.”

Darkness closed in, narrowing his vision to include only Risa. “You make me stronger, Rees. Stronger than I could ever be alone.”

“Stronger together,” she said.

He felt the corners of his mouth tilt upward in a smile.

Nikki

A little while later…

Nikki always assumed jail would be a horrible place. Caged like an animal. Strange women bullying. Deputies watching your every move.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

The pod where she slept reminded her more of a dorm than a cage. Bunk beds lined one wall. Tables with attached benches filled the rest of the room. Televisions spotted the walls. Books brought from the library for borrowing. Card games. Crafts.

Of course, deputies were watching, and some of the women were assholes. But all-in-all, Nikki was just grateful to be away from Eddie. Grateful to have food and a bed. Grateful to feel somewhat safe.

She couldn’t stop the dreams. One minute Eddie would be killing Risa, the next making love to her in front of Nikki. He’d tell Nikki how much he loved her, then a moment later, he’d strip her in the middle of a busy street and hold a knife to her throat.

Nikki would wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming, sometimes missing him so bad it hurt.

The only thing that cleared her mind was a visit from Risa. Every day, Nikki’s big sister was waiting in one of the tiny visiting rooms. Every day, she let Nikki talk through her dreams and focus herself back on reality. Every day she let Nikki know she cared.

Nikki talked to a few psychiatrists, and the court appointed a lawyer; a woman who didn’t seem that much older than her named Tamara Wade. She and Nikki went to court hearings and sat through what seemed like endless meetings. And one day, when Risa waited on the other side of the glass in the visiting room, Nikki finally had some good news to share.

“We met with the district attorney.” No, that wasn’t right. It was important that Nikki report this right. “Assistant District Attorney, I think.”

Risa leaned forward, one hand pressing the visiting room phone to her ear, the other bracing herself on the stainless steel countertop. “And?”

“He was nice, I guess. Reminded me of a cowboy. His name was Dillon.”

“What did he say?”

Nikki smiled. She hadn’t done much of that lately, but it felt good. “I shouldn’t tease you, should I?”

“So it’s something good then?”

“Yeah. Tamara says it’s really good.”

“You’re going to be released?”

Nikki felt her smile droop. “No.”

“What is it, Nikki? Don’t make me guess.”

“I have to stay in jail.”

“Yes…”

“But as long as I keep talking to a psychiatrist, I won’t be a felony.”

“A felon, you mean? They aren’t going to charge you with a felony?”

“That’s good, right?”

Risa beamed. “That’s really good, Nik.”

Nikki was glad. For a while there, she was worried that she’d misunderstood. She should have paid more attention in school. Hell, she should have actually gone to school instead of skipping. “But I have to stay here in jail.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Okay. Tamara said I can get my G.E.D.”

“That would be terrific, Nikki. Does Tamara know how long you’ll be here?”

Nikki shook her head. “But she said it won’t be longer than a year. At least that’s what she thinks. She has to ask a judge or something.”

A slow smile spread over Risa’s lips, and Nikki thought she saw something that looked like a twinkle in her eyes.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“You have some news to tell me, too?”

“Actually, I have something to ask.”

“Something to ask me?”

“Yes.”

Nikki waited for her sister to say what it was, but she just sat there smiling and tapping her hand on the stainless steel, like she thought Nikki might catch on.

Nikki didn’t catch on. “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you would be my maid of honor.”

It took Nikki a moment to remember what it was a maid of honor did. She looked down at Risa’s tapping hand, and the diamond ring that rapped against the counter. “You and Trent again?”

“Yes.”

“Risa, that’s wonderful.” A mix of emotion bombarded Nikki, making it hard to tell whether the tears in her eyes were from happiness or envy. Nikki thought about her wedding. The perfect dress. The perfect makeup. But the setting, the witnesses, and the groom were something she wanted to forget.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t ask you to be my maid-of-honor,” Nikki whispered into the receiver.

“Oh, honey… You’ll get married again someday. To a great guy. I have no doubt.”

Nikki nodded, but she never saw herself marrying again. She would rather die. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be happy for her sister. She just had to work at it a little. “So Trent is doing well?”

“He is. Of course, he probably wouldn’t tell me if he wasn’t, but he’s getting around more every day.”

“Did he get down on one knee and all that?”

“Yes. I had to help him up, but…”

“Tell me about it… the wedding…”

“Well, I figured we’d plan it for a little over a year from now. Maybe August. That way we might be able to book this old B&B on Chesapeake Bay. We can get married overlooking the water.”

Risa continued, telling Nikki about her plans, just like they were real sisters. It was a nice dream, that Nikki could get out of this place and go on to live a normal life, stand up in a wedding, maybe even get married herself, but Nikki didn’t believe for one moment that the fantasy could be real.

When their time was finally up, and Nikki went back to the pod, all she could think about was the next time she could have a cigarette. She would work hard. She would rebuild her life. But it wasn’t going to be the kind of life she’d dreamed about before or the kind of life Risa was hoping for her now. Romance and marriage, working to get her mother’s notice, her daddy’s approval, her sister’s loyalty. Her husband’s love.

That Nikki was gone.

And as far as she was concerned, good riddance.

Risa

A year later…

“Risa and Trent,” the pastor said. Dressed in white robes, he looked down at them and smiled. “If it is your intention to share with each other your joys and sorrows and all that the years will bring, then with your promises bind yourselves to each other as husband and wife.”

Risa turned to hand Nikki her bouquet. Her sister had changed a lot over the past fourteen months, and not in a way Risa would have guessed. The afraid, naïve girl had grown into a chain-smoking party animal, once she’d been released from jail, but Risa doubted that image had anything to do with the real woman underneath.

But Nikki had insisted she was okay, that she needed to live her own life, that Risa needed to live hers. And so Risa had respected that. She couldn’t go from nearly ignoring the girl to controlling her life, after all. That their relationship existed, even though they lived half way across the country from one another, was a miracle in itself.

Risa looked out over Lake Loyal. Nikki’s parole had forced Risa and Trent to put off Chesapeake Bay until their honeymoon and move their wedding to Wisconsin. A sacrifice Risa made gladly.

Sacrifice became her, Trent had teased. But it really wasn’t that. She had everything she’d ever wanted. She would gladly give back from now until the end of time. Especially to those she loved.

Satin and organza, lace and crinoline rustled around her, drowning out the excited beat of her heart. In all the years she’d loved Trent, all the years she’d wanted to marry him, she’d always focused on the romance of their honeymoon or the bliss of their life together. She’d never given a lot of thought to their wedding. But even if she’d spent most of her life planning the details of this day, it couldn’t be more perfect.

And she couldn’t be happier.

Turning back to Trent, she looked into his eyes, which twinkled with the same brilliance as the summer sun reflecting off the lake. He joined his hands with hers.

It hadn’t been easy for them either, at first. They’d spent a lot of time talking, opening up, learning to trust one another all over again. But Trent had been true to his word. He hadn’t shut her out, not once. They’d talked problems through, figured things out together. And even if neither she nor Trent was completely healed yet, they were on their way. To health. And to a wonderful life together.

Risa wasn’t naive enough to believe she wouldn’t carry the scars of what she’d been through. She had only to look down at the thin whitish line that the Sabrina neckline of her wedding gown hid from view to know that recovery—hers, Trent’s and Nikki’s—would be a long road. But they would make it. She wouldn’t let it be any other way.

Ed Dryden had lost the battle. And the war. He was safely behind bars at the Supermax prison, and he would never terrorize innocent women again.

Unfortunately, Gordy Young was serving his own sentence, though not at the Supermax. Authorities had found the money Ed Dryden had paid him for assisting with the escape, money that had come from Farrentina Hamilton. Gordy had donated it to an organization working to end violence against women. Gordy Young was a good man, down deep. But in the end, a victim of his own hatred and need for vengeance.

And speaking of hatred and vengeance, a card had arrived at Risa’s soon-to-be-sold home just yesterday. A generous wedding gift from none other than Detective Dan Cassidy, along with an apology. His behavior toward her had been nothing personal. He’d been angry at the world and determined to catch Dryden.

They’d also received gifts from Detective Mylinski, Special Agent Subera, and Chief Schneider. Schneider was even attending the wedding, tagging along as Oneida Perkins’s plus one, doing his own recovering after his injuries from Ed Dryden’s knife.

She pushed Dryden and the others from her mind. She wasn’t about to waste time thinking about the past on her day. Not when she was marrying the man she loved. The man she had always loved.

“I take you, Risa Madsen, to be my wife,” Trent’s voice lowered, husky with emotion.

A shiver chased over Risa’s skin. Tears obscured her vision. She opened her eyes wide to prevent the drops from winding their way down her cheeks. She couldn’t let herself cry. Her makeup would smear, ruining the pictures. And she wanted the photographer to snap lots of pictures. Because she wanted to remember this moment forever.

“To join with you and to share all that is to come. To give and to receive, to speak and to listen…”

Trent’s voice cut through her thoughts like a laser. His promises to her. His promises for the future. Give and take. Speaking and listening. And she knew that was what their lives would be. That’s what they would make them.

“…to inspire and to respond…”

She watched him through misty eyes. Eyes filled with tears of joy. Tears that washed away the hurt and fear and misery. Tears that refreshed, renewed, reclaimed.

Just as the tears that shone in his.

“…to be loyal to you with my whole life and with all my being, from this time onward.”

Eddie

Eddie reclined on his bunk, hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling as if it was a movie screen.

No, better.

He might be back in the hole, but he only had to close his eyes and he could see everything that had happened in the time he was out.

He could hear the screams.

He could smell the blood.

He could feel the power.

Risa thought she’d hurt him. But she didn’t know about hurt. Not yet. But she would. They all would. The entire fucking world.

Nothing had changed. Not really. The police could throw him back in prison. The court could uselessly tack extra lifetimes to his sentence. And the people outside could shove him out of their minds until they forgot him completely.

But no one could take his fantasies away. His attention to detail. His planning for the future.

Eddie had a good brain. He was a winner. A fucking king. And he had ways of reaching out into the world, of controlling his future.

And when the time was right, he would be back. They could count on it.