what am I supposed to do?” Her body brushed against his. “Hide? Stay in the shadows while you hunt? That’s not who I am, Dylan. You know that.”
He did. He knew everything about her.
“Mercer sent me here.” She gave a slow nod of her head. “He wants me on the case, and I’m going to stay on it. Jack won’t get away with this.” A brief pause. “If this is Jack.”
He wanted to pull her flush against him. To kiss her. They’d worked together for three years, and he’d wanted her that entire time.
But he’d played by the rules and kept his hands off her.
Dreamed of her every night.
“They’re going to send hotel guards up soon,” Rachel murmured. “Maybe even a firefighter or two.”
He blinked.
“You can’t keep the elevator stopped forever.”
And he couldn’t toss Rachel over his shoulder and run away with her. No matter how badly he wanted to do just that.
So he stepped back from her. He started the elevator again, and Dylan focused on breathing. Nice and slow. But he had to ask her, “Do you still love him?”
“What?” Her voice rose, breaking a little on the one word.
That break wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. His gaze held hers. “You loved him three years ago.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“I just want to make sure that emotions won’t be a problem for you.” His hands clenched into fists. “I have to know that I can count on you.”
The elevator had reached the lobby. A soft ding filled the interior then the doors slid open. Rachel brushed past him. He followed her. “Rachel?”
She turned toward him. “I don’t feel any emotion but hate for the guy, okay? So don’t worry about me. Nothing is going to cloud my judgment on this mission.”
Hate was dangerous. So was fury and fear. He’d have to watch her carefully. But what else is new there? He seemed to watch her all the time.
And Rachel didn’t know. She had no idea that she’d become his obsession.
“I won’t worry.” Lie. When she shifted away from him, Dylan put his hand on her back and steered her toward the hotel’s main desk. “We work this one together.”
“Just like always,” she murmured. But Rachel was tense beneath his touch. Far too tense.
The hotel manager stared at Dylan with nervous eyes. Dylan flashed him an ID. An official-looking piece that labeled him an FBI agent. The ID was just part of a cover provided by the EOD, but the manager would never know that. “I’m going to need access to every bit of security footage that you’ve got at this hotel.” The EOD would be confiscating that footage. Then their techs would review it, moment by moment, as they looked for the killer.
A killer who seemed to be back, hunting once again in the U.S.
* * *
HIS RACHEL WAS still as beautiful as ever.
Her hair was a little longer. She used to wear it just to her chin, but now it skimmed her shoulders. It was still as dark, still looked as silky.
She was a bit thinner, and there was a new delicacy to her that hadn’t been there before. Probably because of the recent attack she’d suffered.
He’d heard that Rachel had been in the hospital. A knife attack. Some crazed fool had attacked Rachel in her own apartment.
He’d been furious at the news. No one else was supposed to kill Rachel.
She was his.
The man with the dark hair stood too close to her. He touched her too much. Even then, his fingers were on her back.
Dylan Foxx. He knew the man’s name, and he also knew that Foxx was an EOD Agent.
Foxx had ex-military stamped all over him. It wasn’t the too-short hair or the go-to-hell glint that he’d caught in the man’s eyes. It was obvious in the battle-ready way he walked. In the gaze that kept sweeping across the room. The guy was looking for threats.
I’m right here, but you don’t see me.
Probably because he’d borrowed a cop’s uniform. The uniform gave him the up-close access that he needed to the hotel. He’d wanted to see who would be called in for this kill. He’d hoped Rachel would get the case.
She had. Now, finally, things could get interesting again.
He followed two other uniforms out of the hotel. He kept his head down as he walked. Not that he expected anyone to recognize him. Not with the changes he’d been through.
Rachel might look the same. Just a few slight differences.
He’d altered completely.
And that was why she would never see him coming. Not until it was far too late.
I’ve kept my promise, Rachel. I’ve come back for you.
* * *
“IS IT HIM?” Bruce Mercer demanded as his hands flattened on his desk.
Dylan hesitated before answering the boss.
“Don’t try to sugarcoat this mess,” Mercer snapped at him. “Tell me straight...is he back?”
“It’s too early to tell for certain. It could be Jack, or it could be a copycat.” He knew Rachel hoped they were dealing with a copycat, anyway.
Mercer’s eyes narrowed. As the boss of the EOD, Mercer never pulled his punches. “What does Rachel think?”
Just the mention of her name had Dylan tensing. “She’s afraid.”
Mercer grunted and rose to pace toward the window that overlooked the D.C. skyline. They were in the main EOD building—not that most folks would ever realize the nondescript structure housed the elite group of agents. To just get through the doors of the building required a level of clearance that the majority of people in the city would never possess.
Mercer stared out at the night for a moment then he said, “She’s smart to be afraid. If it is him, then he’ll try to make contact with her.”
Dylan’s fingers tightened around the armrests on either side of his leather chair. “She thinks that, too. Rachel said he’d come for her.”
Mercer turned toward Dylan. The EOD boss inclined his head. “She’s right.”
That wasn’t what Dylan wanted to hear. “Do you think he knows she’s EOD? Is he aware that she’s working with us?”
“I think this assassin knows quite a few things,” Mercer murmured. “And I think stopping him is our number-one priority.” A rough sigh escaped from Mercer. “As far as I’m aware, this man only has one weakness.”
Now that news caught Dylan’s attention because he hadn’t thought the killer had any weakness. “I’ll exploit it,” he said, more than ready to get his hands dirty on this one. That sicko wouldn’t get the chance to hurt Rachel ever—
“Rachel Mancini is his weakness.”
Dylan’s heart raced in his chest. Instinctively, he shook his head. “The man almost killed Rachel three years ago. She barely escaped him, and you actually think she’s some kind of weakness for the guy?” Dylan shook his head. “Mercer, you’re usually a whole lot better on this than—”
“Do you wonder why he didn’t kill her?” Mercer cut through his words.
He didn’t wonder. He knew. “Because she fought him. She got away. She shot him,” Dylan gritted out the words.
“From what I