Cynthia Eden - Before The Dawn

But Jason did. “I’m going to slice her all over. I’m going to make her beg.”

Tucker’s rage burned, too. “You aren’t touching her.”

“You’re going to help me. You’re going to be at my side, the way you always are. You understand me. You want the same things I want.”

Jason was a foot away from him.

Tucker shook his head. “I want Dawn.” He eased out a low breath. “Drop that knife, now.” But he knew Jason wasn’t going to do it. “Don’t—” he began, but it was too late. Jason had surged forward. He didn’t swing at Tucker with his knife. Tucker wasn’t his goal. He slammed his body into Tucker’s, shoving him out of the way.

Because Jason wants Dawn.

But Tucker wasn’t letting that happen. He caught his brother, held tight when Jason fought and then...

He fired.

The blast of that gun seemed deafening. For a moment after that terrible thunder, there was no sound at all. Even the insects had stopped chirping, as if they were afraid. Jason was staring at him, his face easy to see under the bright, full moon.

Shock.

Betrayal.

Then Jason was plunging that knife at Tucker, slicing down his arm, slicing his hand and trying to make Tucker drop the gun.

He didn’t drop it. Tucker fired again.

Jason staggered back.

“You won’t touch her again.”

Tucker fired once more. His brother was on the edge of the dock, he staggered back—

And fell into the water, sinking deep with a splash.

CHAPTER TWO

Seven years later...

SECOND CHANCES DIDN’T come around often. If a man was lucky enough to have one, then he should grab on to that opportunity and hold tight to it with every bit of strength that he had.

It was a good thing Tucker Frost was strong.

He hurried into the conference room at the FBI’s Washington, DC, office. It was early June and the sun glinted through the window, shining right through the blinds. The other agents were already inside, seated at the round table. Their laptops were out. Their manila files were open. Their phones were on the tabletop, probably already turned to mute.

He took the last seat, had his laptop out and open in seconds and was adjusting the volume on his phone when Samantha Dark delicately cleared her throat.

“I want to thank all of you for joining me on such short notice.”

The meeting had been called ten minutes ago. He’d been outside the building, already anticipating just how he’d be spending the weekend.

“I know that our unit is still in the development phase, but you were all handpicked to join this team because I know that you bring a unique set of skills and a perspective for targeting killers that others just can’t imitate.”

Her voice was low, calm, and she turned her golden stare on all of the agents at the table.

Samantha Dark.

He was damn glad she’d come back to the FBI. He’d always respected Agent Dark. From the very first moment that they’d met at Quantico, he’d known just how sharp she was. Samantha had been the profiler to watch, but when her ex-lover had turned out to be a vicious serial killer, she’d retreated, pulling away from everyone close to her. He’d hated that.

But Samantha was back now. She’d stopped not just one serial killer on her last case, but two, and since she’d also managed to save the life of the FBI’s executive assistant director, Justin Bass, she’d been given carte blanche to try her experimental unit.

“Some folks would say,” Samantha began as her stare turned pensive, “that we aren’t the best ones to profile killers. They’d say our personal connections to murderers are weaknesses.”

His jaw locked.

“But those people would be dead wrong.” She gave a grim nod. “The fact that we’ve had serial killers intimately involved in our lives means that we understand them like no other person can.” She paused. “They were friends. They were lovers.”

She’d taken down the lover who’d tried to hurt her and who had hurt so many others.

“They were family.” Now her golden stare came back to him.

Beneath the table, his hands fisted. Blood always comes first.

Then her stare tracked to the red-haired agent on his left, Macey Night. “They have been our tormenters.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Macey stiffen.

But then Samantha’s focus was on the last agent at that little table as she stared at Bowen Murphy and said, “And they have been our prey.”

Bowen inclined his head toward her.

“We have all been in life-and-death situations with serials. We know how dangerous they are. We don’t underestimate them. We see them from a unique perspective that no one else can fully appreciate.” She exhaled as she moved around the table. “And that perspective is going to help us. It will allow us to think outside of the box. It will allow us to notice things that others cannot. It will allow us to stop the perpetrators before they take more innocent victims.”

Hell, yes. That was what he wanted. Why he’d agreed to join this group when Samantha had approached him. He’d been working in Violent Crimes for years now, but going back to profiling, it was exactly what he needed.

Maybe the guilt will finally stop. If he could stop enough serials. If he could make a difference, if, if, if.

“You all know that there are currently 25 to 50 active serial killers hunting in the United States.” Her lips thinned. “Or at least, that’s the number we’re supposed to be working with.” The number that the FBI bandied about to the media.

“I think there are more,” Bowen said, his voice rumbling. “I think there are hunters who are so good at killing, the authorities have no idea they’re out there. They’re flying right beneath the radar, picking victims that no one will miss, and they’re getting away with murder.”

“That’s where we come in,” Samantha said with a nod. “Part of our job will be to try to find those unknown killers. We will unmask the ones who are hiding in shadows. We’ll find the victims that they don’t want anyone to know about.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Macey murmured.

Samantha smiled. “Yes, it is.” Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. “But I think we’re up to the challenge.”

Tucker didn’t speak.

“That’s part of our job,” Samantha continued in that mild, calm voice of hers. An oddly soothing voice. “But another part...another part is immediate mobilization when we think local authorities have uncovered an active serial. At the first hint of serial involvement, a team will immediately deploy to the local area and begin cooperative action with the authorities there.”

He liked that. Damn straight they needed immediate action. When it came to serials, the locals were often in way over their heads, and time lost meant lives lost.

“That brings me to the reason I called this meeting...” She glanced at the watch on her slender wrist. “At seven p.m. on a Friday night.” She headed toward her laptop and pressed a few buttons. She had a projector hooked up and a screen had already lowered from the ceiling. “Agents, we have our first target.”

And an image appeared on that white screen. Even though he’d prepared for it, Tuck’s whole body tensed. No, hell, no. Not happening. It shouldn’t be happening—

“Is she...frozen?” Macey asked.

“Yes,” Tucker gritted before Samantha could speak.

Because the crime scene photo they were staring at...it showed a woman with skin that appeared almost blue. Her lashes were covered with small ice particles. Her lashes, her lips, the tip of her nose. He could see the slices on her body, slices that were wide and deep, obviously from a big knife. And her body—

Samantha hit a button on her laptop. Another picture appeared. This one wasn’t as close up. Instead, it was a distance shot of the crime scene, and it showed the victim’s body perfectly.