rel="nofollow" href="#uf7a4e077-4ae4-5209-9d37-3ff947e7b3b4">Chapter One
Luke Campbell bit back a groan. Why did Julie Campbell—correction, Julie Davis—have to interrupt a killer in the middle of one of his “projects”?
His ex-wife’s landscaping business had brought her to the doorstep of one of the most devious serial murderers in Luke’s career. A knot tightened in his gut as he pulled in front of her small redbrick town house in a North Dallas suburb, the one they’d shared, and parked his truck.
An emotion he refused to acknowledge kept him from opening the door and stepping into the frigid night. How many times had he wished he still lived in that house after he’d come home from active duty a wreck? How many times had he prayed he could go back and change the past since then? How many times had he missed the feel of her long silky legs wrapped around him, welcoming him home? Too many.
Hell, he wasn’t there for a reunion. She was in jeopardy, and his job was to protect society from national-security threats and major criminals. Keeping her safe was the least he could do after the way he’d hurt her.
He stepped into the crisp evening air.
A young detective with a thick build and sun-worn face approached. “Evening, Special Agent Campbell. Not sure if you remember me, but I worked the Martin crime scene earlier.”
“Detective Wells. Thank you. I appreciate the call.” Luke shook the outstretched hand in front of him.
“I wouldn’t normally bother you with something like this. My boss thought you’d be interested.”
The young guy reported to Detective Garcia. Garcia’s judgment was dead-on. “What do you have?”
He waved another detective over. “This is Detective Reyes.”
Luke shook hands with the detective.
“Show him what was taped to Ms. Davis’s window earlier,” Detective Wells said.
The officer used tongs to hold out a standard-size piece of white paper. The words I hope you enjoy your dance with the Devil. Be in touch soon, Rob were handwritten.
“Whoever wrote this has good penmanship.” Luke noticed. He took note of the capitalization of the word Devil. The tension between his shoulder blades balled and tightened as he reread the name. His killer, Ravishing Rob, never left a clue as to whom he would target next. If this was him, why would he change his M.O.?
One reason came to mind. Anger. Rob was meticulous. Julie had interrupted his ritual killing, which he’d described as more of a turn-on than sex. That might be enough to trigger a variation.
Luke couldn’t ignore another possibility. This could be a copycat. Julie’s picture had been splashed all over the news and internet.
Then again, Julie had black hair just like all Rob’s targets.
He examined the neat print. Cursive would give more clues to Rob’s personality. With his high IQ he was smart enough to know that, too, which made the capitalization of Devil even more poignant. “Whoever wrote this took his time.”
Luke pulled an evidence bag from his glove box and pointed at the note. “I’ll send this up for analysis.”
The detectives nodded.
“Can you spare one of your uniformed men for the night? I’d like someone to keep watch on the alley behind her house.”
“Sure thing,” Detective Wells said. “I made some notes after interviewing Ms. Davis. Do you want to take a look?”
“Absolutely.” Luke studied the page. He focused on the word boyfriend. The knot tightened in his gut. The thought of another man’s arms wrapped around Julie ignited his possessive instincts. He still wanted her, needed her. Those selfish emotions had caused him to stay at the town house to be near her when he’d returned from Iraq a broken man. The front-row seat he’d had to her pain—the hell he’d caused—when he pushed her away day after day had forced him to man up and leave before he permanently damaged her. Intelligent and beautiful, she deserved so much more than him. He glanced up at the detectives who were waiting for his response to the report. Not wanting to give away his bone-deep reaction to her, he skimmed the rest and handed it back. “Good information. Send my office a copy of the report when it’s filed.”
Detective Wells gave a satisfied smile. “I’ll keep a man outside tonight. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do.” Luke turned and walked toward the house. A thought stopped him at the base of the stairs. What if she wasn’t alone?
The detective’s notes said she’d been dating a dentist on and off. Was he here?
Davis had been her maiden name, which meant she was still single. Even so, she might be on with the dentist again. After the day she’d had, he might be there with her in Luke’s house. Old house, he corrected, ignoring the all-too-real tug of emotion at seeing the place again.
Taking the couple of steps to her porch in quick strides, he clenched his fists.
The thought of Ravishing Rob targeting Julie didn’t do good things to Luke’s head. He knocked on the door and his chest squeezed as he thought about seeing her again.
The solid hunk of wood swung open, and suddenly, there she was, his ideal combination of beauty and grace, staring at him with a shocked look on her face. He could see those long legs where her bathrobe split, her taut hips where the robe cinched. A hunger roared from deep within him. The reality of why he was there chased it away.
Her amber eyes stood out against pale skin. Even red-rimmed and puffy, their russet-coppery tint was every bit as beautiful as it had been the last time he’d seen her. Her shoulder-length hair was still inky black. His fingers itched to get lost in that curly abyss again. Muscle memory, he decided. Besides, the frown on her face and stress in her eyes said he was the last person she wanted to see.
Under the circumstances, he was her best bet.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her ringtone sounded. “Dammit. Hang on.”
Bad sign. She only cursed when she was hanging on by a thread.
“May I?” He motioned for permission to enter.
Her gaze narrowed, but then she nodded and turned her back to him. She spoke directly into the phone. “I’m okay. No. I promise. You don’t need to come over right now. I’ll see you when you get off work.”
Was she talking to her boyfriend? The last word stuck. Tasted bitter as hell, too.
One step inside and he almost lost his footing. A wave of nostalgia slammed into him. The furniture was in exactly the same spot as when he’d left. The coffee-colored leather sofa against the wall to his right. The flat-screen directly across from it mounted on the wall to his left. He could see all the way to the back door from where he stood. Same black pedestal dining table with avocado-green chairs tucked around it. The place looked completely untouched, except all the pictures of the two of them had been removed. She’d probably enjoyed stomping on the frames.
The town house might’ve looked the same, but it had a different air. Funny how out of place he felt in what used to be his own home.
He folded his arms, parted his feet in an athletic stance and stood next to the door. He wasn’t there for a reunion. This was business. And no matter how much Julie looked as if she’d rather crawl out of her skin than be in the same room with him, he had a job to do.
She closed the call and whirled around on him, still wearing her angry expression. There was something else in her eyes there, too. Hurt? “Why did they send you?”
“I’ve been tracking this guy for the past two years. He’s my case.” He intentionally withheld the part about Ravishing Rob being the most ruthless killer Luke had come across so far in his FBI career.
Her eyes narrowed to such slits he couldn’t figure out if she could