Cynthia Eden - After The Dark

Because I trust her. I have from the moment we were partnered together. She always had my back. The truth of the matter was...he’d taken one look into Samantha’s golden eyes and pretty much lost a piece of his soul. No one should have eyes like her. So unusual. So deep. Eyes that saw too much.

She was a pretty woman, beautiful, but she’d always tried to restrain that beauty. She wore suits to work, hiding what he knew was a killer body. Her black hair was always pulled back into a twist. She didn’t bother with makeup. Just business, that had been her.

And then everything had been blown to hell for Samantha.

Now here I am, ready to wreck the peace that she’s sought for herself.

He sighed as he got out of his car. Samantha’s cottage waited right up ahead. He hadn’t followed her there. He’d actually gone to the cottage before he tracked her down at the pier. When he’d been her partner, he’d learned her habits pretty well. Samantha always enjoyed her morning runs. And the pier? Well, in this small town, he’d figured she’d head for that spot.

Her car waited a few feet away. No sign of her, though. He exited his vehicle, made sure to grab his backpack and tried to figure out just how the hell he was going to convince Samantha to help him.

He took a few steps toward the cottage—a place that was situated high on the bluff that overlooked the bay. Her cottage was surrounded by massive oak trees and plenty of Spanish moss and—

“Why do you think it’s Cameron?”

He saw her, sitting on the steps that led up to the cottage. Her hands were on her knees, and her head was bent forward so that he couldn’t see her expression.

Her hair was shorter than it had been months before. Her usual twist was gone. The dark locks hung to her jaw, perfectly framing her heart-shaped face. He liked the cut. It made her eyes look bigger and made her look even sexier, though he doubted that had been her intention.

The problem is...I’ve always found everything about her sexy. A big problem, when he was supposed to be only her partner.

“Blake...” She looked up. “What makes you so certain it’s him?”

She hadn’t sounded surprised that he’d followed her. He figured Samantha knew it took a lot more to get him off track. He headed toward her, then lowered his body until he was sitting on the steps beside her. His leg brushed against hers.

“The world is full of twisted killers,” Samantha continued, her voice both sad and stark. Once more, her head lowered. Her delicate shoulders hunched. “How do you know it’s not one of them? Why does it have to be Cameron?”

This was the part that he knew would hurt. “Because he asked for you.”

Her head whipped up and toward him. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “What?”

“He asked for you, at the kill scene.”

Her lower lip began to tremble.

Shit. I’m being too cold. Too hard. I’m screwing this up.

Blake cleared his throat and said, “The victim was held for three days, then killed. Only before he killed that girl, he made her... He made her record a video.”

“That was never part of Cameron’s MO. He didn’t make any recordings. He just—He took pictures.”

Because she’d found his pictures on his computer.

“Maybe his MO has changed.”

She stared at him, and he could see the pain in her eyes. He hated that. He never wanted to bring Samantha pain. “I have a copy of the video in my bag. I brought my laptop because I wanted you to see that clip.” He’d thought it would be the one thing that would convince Samantha to help him. She’d never been able to turn away from victims. Her heart was too soft. Tough exterior, gentle soul. That was his Sam. “Do you want to see it?”

She shook her head... No.

Hell, he’d been sure...

“Yes,” Samantha said quietly even as she was still shaking her head. “I want to see it.”

He reached for his bag, which he’d placed on the ground. He opened it up and pulled out his laptop. It took just a moment to boot.

Samantha slid closer to him. He made sure to keep his breathing deep and easy. He knew the tightrope that he and Samantha had always walked. If she was coming back to him, coming back to work with him, he had to be careful to keep his control around her. Samantha pulled at his emotions, a dangerous thing when he was working a case. He needed his focus to be on the killer.

Not on Samantha and the need he felt for her.

“The video doesn’t end well,” he warned her. His finger was poised over the keyboard. One click, and he’d have the video playing.

“Just get the hell on with it,” Samantha muttered. For just an instant, he heard the whisper of the South in her voice. Normally, Samantha had no accent. But when she was angry or really stressed, that Southern drawl would reveal itself.

His finger tapped against the keyboard.

The video began to play.

“I’m Kristy Wales,” the blonde woman in the video said. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. Long streaks of black mascara coated her face. “And I’m going to d-die.”

Kristy sat in a chair, her hands bound behind her. There was nothing in the background of the video, just a white wall. No sound on the video, just her voice. Shallow cuts covered her arms and her legs. He’d tortured her.

“It’s...it’s because of Agent Dark. She...she didn’t finish the ex-experiment.” Her gaze cut from the camera to some spot just to the right. There was silence a moment. Then Kristy gave a jerky nod and said, “Dark should have f-finished.” Her eyelids fluttered, and then she was looking back at the camera. “She doesn’t get to run. It won’t stop. He won’t stop.” Her lips were trembling. “Make him stop.”

The camera kept going.

But then...Kristy started screaming. “I did it! I did it! Now let me go, please, please, please—”

A man walked into the frame. Tall, with wide shoulders, dressed in black from the top of his head down to his feet. A ski mask completely shielded his face and head.

But nothing covered the knife in his hand.

Kristy jerked in the chair. “I’ll do anything! I said what you wanted—I’ll do anything! I’ll—”

The man had walked behind Kristy. His hand lifted. He put the knife to her throat.

“I’m sorry! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” Kristy yelled. “Please don’t—”

The knife sliced across her throat, moving from the left side in a sweeping slash to the right, ending just beneath her right earlobe. Blood flew out, and Kristy gasped. Her body shuddered and...

She didn’t die instantly.

She jerked and twitched a few more moments while the man stood behind her.

Then the video ended.

Beside Blake, Samantha was dead silent. He closed the lid on his laptop. Blake put the computer back in his bag, then he raised his gaze to look at her face.

She’d paled. The faint spray of freckles on her nose stood out—a stark contrast to her too-pale skin. Her eyes were wide.

“We found Kristy in a lake. The video was sent to the FBI. We saw her die before we ever found her body.”

She exhaled on a ragged breath.

“Samantha—”

“That wasn’t Cameron.” She stood up. “You’re too good of an FBI agent to think that it was.” She turned on her heel and hurried into the cottage.

For an instant, Blake didn’t move. But Samantha hadn’t slammed the front door shut behind her, she hadn’t locked him out, so he took that as a sign that he could follow her. Hopefully. He grabbed his bag and hurried inside.

The place was bright, with plenty of light coming through the big picture window that looked out over the bay. The walls were white. And the furniture—what little of it there was—appeared comfortable, casual. An overstuffed couch, a white chair with a blue blanket thrown over its back.