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  Damian shook his head. “I already spoke with the head of campus security. Due to budget cutbacks, efforts have been a bit more lax with the summer term and fewer students on campus.”

  “But,” Ethan added, “security does happen to have a camera installed in that parking lot.”

  Maggie sat up straight. “Then, that’s good, right?”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “We’ll see. There was some debate about whether the video was rolling. Budget cutbacks, again. They haven’t serviced the camera in a while.”

  Damian shook his head. “Let’s pray it gives us a lead. Noah is going to call the president of the university with an update. We’ll all meet this afternoon at the Society to compare notes.” He turned to Ethan. “In the meantime, stick to Maggie like superglue.”

  “Intended to.”

  Maggie felt a stab of annoyance that her life was no longer in her hands, but it was quickly replaced with gratitude. There was a madman targeting her in a very personal way. She’d learned the first time around that danger of that kind was very real, with horrifying consequences.

  As Ethan guided her to his car, his warm hand at her elbow, she was once again grateful for his solid presence. She gazed out the window as he drove, trying to focus on the passing scenery, now dappled with gold and pink as the sun rose higher. There wasn’t a cloud in the morning sky. It was going to be another hot day.

  “Wait.” She turned in her seat when she realized the direction Ethan had headed. “This isn’t the way to my house. You missed the turn.”

  “I’m not taking you to your place.” His tone brooked no argument.

  Something sizzled in her blood. It took her a moment to place the foreign feeling. It wasn’t alarm. Or panic. The ache she felt whenever she was around this man was much lower than her chest. There was a definite dollop of the anticipation she’d been feeling earlier. With heightened senses, she detected the same spicy, masculine scent of Ethan that she’d discovered last night. Just before he’d rejected her. The memory brought a frown to her lips.

  “Where are we going then?”

  “My place.”

  The sizzling in her blood turned into an electric storm of emotions at his firmly spoken words. She covered her zinging nerves with annoyance. “Were you even going to ask me?”

  He slid her a look that told her it didn’t matter what her answer would have been. “Would you like to go back to your place, where you can be constantly reminded of what happened, and of how you’re in danger every second until we catch this guy, or—” he paused, drawing the syllable out, “—would you like to go back to my place where you can catch a nap and maybe a baseball game on TV before we have to meet up with everyone at SSAM later?”

  All traces of annoyance were wiped away at the relaxing picture he painted. “God, I can’t remember the last time I just sat and watched a game.” She grinned at him. “Can we grill some brats?”

  His mouth curved. “Add a couple beers to that request and you’re looking like the woman of my dreams.”

  The words sent her pulse racing and her breath hitched in her chest. She automatically brought her hand up to rub the expected ache at her breastbone but laid it back in her lap when she realized there was no pressure, no tightness. This wasn’t a panic attack.

  This was attraction. Pure physical heat. Unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. It had been so long since she’d felt this kind of attraction to a man. And it had never happened this quickly. What they shared was on some primal level she’d never thought to experience. But then, they’d shared some emotional moments as well. The memory of Ethan pulling her into his arms after Fearmonger’s early morning call came to mind. He’d held her as she shook. Comforted her with more tenderness than she’d expected.

  “You said you hadn’t watched a game in a while. The other men in your life don’t enjoy baseball?”

  She laughed. “Is that your way of asking if I’m dating anyone?”

  “Are you? I know you don’t live with anyone, and that you didn’t want to bother anyone you loved by asking them to come stay with you, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been dating. Your file didn’t say.”

  Her file? She had a file? She shook her head. “No.”

  Between throwing herself into her career for the past several years and her recent, still-sharp grief over Brad’s death, she hadn’t wanted to deal with the complications of a relationship. Her sister thought she just hadn’t found the right man yet, but Maggie knew it was more than that. She had her own issues to confront. Physician, heal thyself.

  Ethan shrugged, as if her pithy answer was of no importance. For some reason, the simple action irritated her. He seemed to pick up on it. “I didn’t mean to pry, but I had to know. It’s part of protecting you. I should have asked you yesterday, when I was at your house going over security issues, but somehow I knew the answer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You knew the answer? Why, because I have a cat? That’s so cliché.”

  He chuckled, and just like that her anger was overcome by that zinging sensation again. His effect on her was annoying enough to make her angry all over again.

  “No,” he said, sobering. “Not because of Sigmund.” Okay, so he remembered her pet’s name. That earned him some points. “Because I saw your entire house, remember? It was evident that not only did you live alone, but you didn’t want reminders of your relationships—any of your relationships. I heard you tell your mother you love her on the phone, but there were no pictures of her, or your father. No guest room for lengthy visits from family or friends. So I assume you try to isolate yourself. To keep your family separate from the rest of your life.”

  “You sure you’re not a detective?”

  “Damian was the first person you called when you were in trouble, that tells me you were protecting your family, and that you were desperate.”

  She sighed, the reminder of violence chasing away the last of her irritation. “I’m glad I did.”

  His gaze moved to the rearview mirror and he frowned. “I’m going to stop up here. I want you to stay in the car. Don’t move.”

  “What?” She automatically swung to look out the back window, wondering what threat he saw there.

  “Don’t move,” he said again, more sharply. “We’re being followed.”

  “How long have you known?” Here she’d been chatting about her life, thinking of the sensations Ethan sent coursing through her body—both pleasant and annoying—and she’d totally forgotten why she’d isolated herself from others. Danger seemed to follow her everywhere.

  “That white SUV has been behind us since we left the university. I thought when I made the exit off the freeway he might keep going, but he didn’t. When he continued past the last couple intersections, I figured he was tailing us.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  He pulled into a gas station, parking very close to the double doors in front. He swung to face her. “I’m going inside and I’m going to sneak out the back, around to where he just parked on the street. I’ll surprise him. You are going to stay right here. If you hear shots, or sense any kind of danger, you move immediately through those doors and lock them behind you. Tell the clerk to call Noah or Maria. You have their numbers?”

  She nodded. Noah had given her his card. “If you’re not back in ten minutes—no, make that two—I’m going in there and calling the detectives anyway.” She nibbled her lip.

  His gaze softened, hovering about her mouth. “Worried about me?”

  She sucked in a breath as a desire to kiss him struck her in the gut like a fist. She could only nod. Suddenly, one of his hands reached out and swept a stray wisp of hair off her cheek, securing it behind her ear. But he released it before she’d sensed more than a brush of his fingertips.

  “Lock the door behind me,” he ordered, his voice gruff as he reached for the door handle.

  That command was becoming an all-too-familiar refrain. Before she could tell him to be
careful, he was gone, his door closing behind him.

  Maggie watched him enter the convenience store, admiring his long strides. His muscular yet lean build was emphasized by the jeans and sport jacket he’d apparently thrown on over his plain T-shirt in his rush to get to her after her frantic call that morning. His broad shoulders flexed as he reached out to pull open one of the double-doors.

  Once he disappeared inside, Maggie counted to one hundred and twenty, resisting the urge to turn and look at the white SUV he said had parked on the street. She pulled her lipstick from her purse, using it as an excuse to open the visor and aim the mirror where she could see behind her.

  There. There it was.

  And Ethan was there, too, crouched as he rounded the tail end of the SUV and approached the driver’s door. The driver’s face, though shadowed by the interior of the vehicle, was obviously turned toward the convenience store. His window was open to the still-cool morning air, and Ethan reached through, grabbed the man in the driver’s seat by the collar of his shirt and yanked him toward the window until they were nose to nose. Maggie caught a glimpse of a long, thin face, and even thinner graying hair.

  Straining with impatience, Maggie chewed her fresh lipstick off as she watched the altercation, breathing a sigh of relief when it seemed relatively minor. In fact, Ethan let go of the man fairly quickly and was handed something by him. He shook his head in disgust and said something in return before stepping away. Ethan stood beside the SUV, hands on his hips until the man pulled away from the curb, tires screeching as the driver performed an illegal U-turn.

  Maggie flipped the visor back into place as Ethan crossed the parking lot and climbed in beside her, slamming his door.

  “Reporter,” he growled.

  She sat, stunned and dismayed. “Already? But, how?”

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Someone must have tipped them off about the unusual number of police on the university campus.” He held up a hand as someone picked up on the line. “Damian. We’ve got media attention. Channel Ten.” He listened a moment. “Okay.”

  “Well?” Maggie asked, trying to hide her impatience as he hung up.

  “He’ll have someone check the guy out and handle Channel Ten, if that’s really where he works.” He pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the street. “We’re meeting at SSAM at three. I assume he’ll fill us in then. And the university president plans to call a press conference in the morning, in conjunction with the police commissioner.” He grimaced. “Prepare yourself. It’s all about to go public.”

  She sighed and sank into her seat. “It was bound to happen.” It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been through all of this before, after Brad had died. Reporters had followed her for weeks, popping up in the most unexpected places. She rolled her neck on her tense shoulders. “Taking some time to relax before the news breaks is a good idea.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “I’ll take you up on that nap you promised me,” she added, fascinated by the way his green eyes darkened.

  She ripped her gaze from his. She would be napping alone. If she could sleep at all. After what Fearmonger had done, she wasn’t sure she wanted to close her eyes anytime soon. But if more pleasant things would fill her dreams, such as thoughts of the way Ethan had held her… Well, she wouldn’t be getting much sleep in that case, either.

  As they pulled into a pleasant little complex comprised of two-story condominiums, Maggie turned her attention to the outside world. Ethan maneuvered the car so that the front faced the end of the driveway, pointing toward the road. Just in case, she supposed, they had to make a fast getaway. Thoughtful of him. But it also reminded her of their dire circumstances.

  He opened her door for her and escorted her into his home with a hand at the small of her back, his eyes everywhere at once. Did he think the killer could have followed them here?

  Her anxiety must have shown in her facial expression because he pulled her against his side, his hand moving to her shoulder. His thumb absently stroked her collarbone at the edge of her shirt, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

  “I’m just being careful,” he said. “He’s not out there. I’d know it.”

  “It’s not much,” he said wryly, his hands on his hips as he watched her survey the general living area of his two-bedroom condo. He’d never had to worry about what a woman would think before. Since he’d moved here from D.C., he hadn’t dated much. But his mother had shaken her head when she’d seen his “bachelor pad,” as she’d referred to it.

  Maggie spun in a slow circle, taking in the open floor plan that revealed the living room as well as the dining room and kitchen. At least it was clean. But there wasn’t much in the way of decoration or personality. He’d just never cared. Since the incident in the Secret Service three years ago, he hadn’t cared deeply about anything. Now, he was surprised at how much her opinion mattered.

  “Stop,” he muttered under his breath, angry with the direction his thoughts had taken. His duty was to keep her safe, not to please her. But an instant image of just how he’d like to please her took hold in his mind and he forced himself to walk past her into the kitchen. Food. It was too early for the brats and beer he’d promised her, but he could forage for some breakfast.

  “Hungry?” he asked, ignoring the jolt of electricity the word sent through him. She shook her head, and he narrowed his eyes on her, noting the signs of fatigue. “You should be. You’ve been up most of the night and you haven’t had breakfast.”

  “Neither of us has.”

  “Right. And I, for one, am hungry.” For more than just food, he thought, disgusted with himself. The woman had been through so much in the past thirty-six hours. And it wasn’t over. Not nearly.

  He hadn’t told Damian because Maggie had been listening to the call, but the reporter he’d cornered had recognized her, and not just from her radio show. He’d mentioned the death of her brother. If the media learned she’d acquired another stalker, they’d be stalking her, too. And she didn’t need that kind of added frustration.

  Ethan wished she weren’t involved. But hell, then he wouldn’t have met her. And since he’d laid eyes on her scrubbing the foul red letters from her walls and playing a wicked air guitar, he’d felt a warmth stirring within him that dispelled the chill of the past few years.

  “Or maybe you’d like to rest first,” he said as she stifled a yawn.

  “I doubt I’d be able to sleep.”

  “Breakfast it is, then.” Jerking the refrigerator door open, he frowned at the meager contents. “Looks like juice and toast, unless you want brats for breakfast.”

  “Typical bachelor, huh?” She laughed, the soft sound flowing over him like a caress.

  His chest tightened. “You should do that more often.”

  Her eyes sparkled like honeycomb in the sun. “What? Tease my host?”

  “Laugh.” He turned his back on her look of surprise and slipped two slices of bread into the toaster. “Why don’t you go find something on TV? I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.”

  Relieved when he heard her moving into the living room and putting distance between them, he shook his head at himself. He was flirting with a client. She should be off-limits. He didn’t need the distraction while he was trying to protect her. And, other than a protector, he was no good to anybody, certainly not as a boyfriend. Women like her deserved better. Hell, all she’d had in her life the past few years, from what he’d learned, was pain. Like Damian had said, she deserved everything good from life.

  Which left him out of the picture.

  And yet, part of him yearned for more. Yearned for a warm, willing woman to come home to. Someone who could help him forget the mistakes of the past.

  He pulled the jug of orange juice from the fridge and located two glasses and plates in the cupboard. The act of making breakfast for Maggie was strangely intimate. He found he liked the feeling.

  Don’t get used to it, a voice warned him
.

  But he could. He easily could.

  Chapter Seven

  The fingerprint identification required Ethan to place his entire right hand on the pad before receiving clearance. Only then would they be granted access to the lobby of the Society for the Study of the Aberrant Mind. Maggie had known about Damian’s organization for years but, as the heavy metal door swung open, she realized she’d never really understood the dangers to him or his employees.

  “Just a precaution,” Ethan assured her as he led her into the inner sanctum. “We’ve never had any lunatics show up to take us out.”

  “Safety first,” she agreed, curious to see what, or who, the state-of-the-art security system protected. Food and a brief nap on Ethan’s couch had revived her. Or maybe it had been the dream she’d been having when he gently shook her awake. In her sleep, Ethan had finally kissed her—a deep, searing kiss that had branded her soul. Whether it was the bit of rest or the shot of adrenaline that had accompanied the imaginary kiss, she was feeling restless, ready to do whatever she could to find Sharon’s killer.

  The SSAM offices occupied most of the top floor of a five-story building near downtown, seemingly innocuous from the outside. But then, what should a sanctuary for those who hunted serial killers look like? Certainly not a normal building with glass windows and doors.

  A cave, maybe. An underground lair. After all, the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was located six stories underground.

  And Damian Manchester’s name was uttered with the same sense of reverence and mystique as a superhero’s, like Batman’s, so why not have a secret hideaway? Nobody seemed to know much about him. He was a private individual.

  As they crossed a small lobby with marble floors and a comfortable seating area, a tall woman with wavy strawberry-blond hair rose from behind a counter. “You must be Dr. Levine,” she said with a smile. “I’m Catherine.” She scowled at Ethan. “And you—we’ll talk later.”

  The secretary signed her in, handed her a security badge and directed them toward another heavy metal door where Ethan subjected his right palm to another security scan. The door swung shut behind them with a thud, and he led Maggie down a long hallway comprised of exquisite artwork and numerous offices—all of them locked up tight. However, this time the locks required an ordinary key to bypass. Still, she almost jogged to keep up with Ethan’s long strides. She’d hate to get lost in here without Ethan’s security access. She might never get out again.