Dark Deeds Read online

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “It is when you’re accusing me of something, something that obviously scares you.” He stood there, arms crossed, feet spread wide, as immovable as a boulder.

  She took a deep breath and blew it out, the heat of her breath mixing with his. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “But Damian does?”

  She hoped to hell he did. At least he’d be able to tell her whether this latest message matched the characteristics of the SSAM Fan who’d been sending him things for years. How had he known about Hoboken, and that the meeting with Selina had been about Samantha?

  Seeing her shiver, Diego reached out to take her arm and turn her toward the door. “Let’s go inside. I think we both need to talk to Damian.”

  She didn’t want to stand in the cold arguing with Diego any more than he did. Besides, even if he barreled his way past all her roadblocks, by Sunday afternoon she’d be back in Chicago and he’d go on with his life here.

  He reached ahead of her to hold the glass door to the hotel open. She walked past him, through the lobby and to the elevator without looking back, but she felt him behind her the whole time.

  She pushed the up button. “You can walk me to my room, but you’re not staying for the meeting.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The confidence in his voice, reinforced by a layer of steely determination, told her she wouldn’t be getting rid of him easily. She knew that tone, and resigned herself to letting Diego stick close until Damian showed up and asked him to leave.

  Once inside the elevator, she tried to ignore Diego’s warmth. His familiar spicy, masculine scent had filled the cab, now it filled this small space...it seemed to fill her, more with each breath. Like sweet torture, it was both soothing and arousing.

  As the elevator continued its ascent, a flash of memory hit her—they’d been on their way to a penthouse apartment. Adrenaline had been running high all day as they set a trap for Natalee’s killer. Alone together in that elevator, Diego had turned to her and pressed her body into the corner, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her head as his lips brushed her neck, her pulse point, along her jaw...until she was begging him to take her mouth with his. When he obliged, she plunged her fingers through his thick hair and held on for dear life. As the elevator approached its destination, he’d pulled away long enough to look down into her eyes. Something had passed between them...something unspoken and intangible that had warned her she’d better guard her heart.

  For all the good it had done her.

  Running had saved her, but in the short term she’d paid the price. Months later, the passion had become a dulled memory. Or so she’d thought. Her skin flushed with heat. She glanced to the side and saw a tight smile pulling at Diego’s lips. Was he recalling the same moment?

  The doors slid open and she moved down the hall to her room. Once inside, she hung her coat in the closet but kept a grip on her phone. She purposely avoided looking at the king-size bed that dominated the room like the elephant nobody wanted to acknowledge. She’d try like hell to ignore it, and the memory of things they’d once done in a similar bed.

  She spun to face him, her hands on her hips. “See? No boogeymen here. You can leave now.”

  “I think I’ll stick around. Besides, we never finished our conversation.”

  Becca shrugged as if it didn’t matter, hoping Damian would arrive soon. Her defenses had taken a beating tonight, barraged with memories, hormones and more time with Diego than she’d bargained for. She needed an opportunity to regain her footing. She met Diego’s gaze in the mirror above the desk. “So, let’s finish it.”

  His eyes sparked with something unidentifiable. “Are you done avoiding me yet?”

  “Avoiding? Hardly. You’re standing in the middle of my hotel room.” She edged past him, past the elephant of a bed, to the closet and snagged her yoga pants and a T-shirt. No way was she going to be any more uncomfortable around this man than she already was. And she was tired of the looks he was giving her attire. As if he wanted to peel her dress off and lick her from head to toe like a popsicle.

  “I’m going to change,” she announced.

  Despite his knowing laugh, she disappeared into the bathroom to search for her sanity. And to check the text message and picture again without Diego hovering. The Fan had definitely known about the Hoboken diner. The window was unmistakable proof. She quivered with anger, wondering how she could check up on Selina to be sure she remained unharmed. Hastily, she typed an email on her phone, asking Selina to let her know ASAP that she was safe. Then she hurried to change, knowing Damian would arrive at any moment. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she might as well have been naked. Diego’s gaze swept her body like a security scanner.

  “I’m ready. Talk.”

  He surprised her with a sigh of defeat. “We can’t go back, can we?”

  “To last summer? That was one of the worst times of your life.”

  “On some levels, yes. On others...” His voice drifted off and his gaze grew hot enough to melt silver. “At least we were comfortable with each other. We could communicate back then...or maybe I was wrong about that? Maybe I read too much into what was just sex, just fun.”

  Now he was throwing her words back at her. It stung more than she’d admit.

  “No, we can’t go back.”

  He stepped closer. “What about forward?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were good together. We could be again, even if just for a little while.” The heat in his eyes showed he was serious. A couple extra nights in Diego’s arms? It sounded like heaven...and hell, if he turned out to be a dirty cop.

  A knock sounded at her door, saving her from making a decision. A grim, haggard Damian stood at her door in jeans and a polo shirt. It was startling, as she was used to seeing him in his tailored suits, a uniform of sorts, a carryover from his corporate days when he’d become wealthy and had everything a man of power could want—including a beautiful wife and child.

  Diego’s heat warmed her back as he shifted to stand behind her. Damian’s gaze slid to the other man before he turned a questioning look on Becca.

  She shrugged. “Diego was there when I received the text. Haven’t been able to shake him since.”

  “Good to see you again,” Damian said to Diego.

  “Good to see you, too, sir.” Diego shook the other man’s hand.

  “Your family well?”

  “Thanks to SSAM’s help, we’re doing better. Still dealing with the grief, but it’s a bit easier knowing we brought Natalee justice.”

  Damian’s eyes flickered. He knew all about dealing with the heartbreak left behind when some monster stole the person you loved. He was still due his share of justice.

  “I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind,” Diego said.

  “I think your expertise would be helpful,” Damian said. “Especially since you were there with Becca tonight.”

  “Not exactly with me,” Becca said.

  “Still, I saw the message.” Diego raised his brows at her, daring her to argue against him and her boss.

  She turned to the more reasonable of the two men. “You sure you want to share what you know about the SSAM Fan with an outsider?”

  “I’m sure,” Damian said. “It’s time to lay it all out on the table. Especially if the Fan’s starting to contact my agents.”

  She wanted to hear Damian’s story, but if talk came back around to Selina and the Circle, and what the Fan might know about her meeting today...including that Diego might be a Circle informant, she’d have to find a way to deflect. Something told her to hold on to that nugget.

  “Have a seat.” Resigned to having Diego sit in on at least part of the meeting, Becca gestured to the desk chair and the only other chair in the room—right next to the bed. Damian took the one at the desk. Unfortunately, that left Diego to take the other one. She sat down on the bed and crossed her legs under her
.

  Becca handed Damian her phone with the anonymous text loaded. “I’m glad you mentioned you had a stalker who called himself the SSAM Fan or I wouldn’t have known what to think of this.”

  “Stalker?” Diego echoed.

  “He’s been more fan than stalker, so far.” Damian reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded paper, then handed it to Becca. “This is a copy of his latest email. I’ve been documenting everything he sends, keeping copies in a file so I have them handy, if they’re ever needed.”

  Becca met his steel-gray eyes. “As in, if he turns out to be one of those serial killers who likes to follow the investigations of the crimes they’ve committed?”

  Damian nodded. “Sometimes they even contact the people hunting them, which is why I kept track of everything from my—our—fan. But I didn’t sense malicious intent until recently.”

  “What changed?” Diego asked.

  He gestured to the paper in Becca’s hand. “That was sent to me a couple days ago. In the past, he’s sent me emails and clips from news shows or blog posts, usually trying to help solve murders he’d seen in the press or heard we were working on. But this...this is different. Much more personal.”

  Becca unfolded the paper and read the note. Diego shifted closer to read over her shoulder.

  Life is not always roses...especially white ones...sometimes it’s just thorns. But then, you, of all people, know that. Justice, God’s will—those are the real reasons we continue on.

  Your SSAM Fan.

  Though the words were relatively innocuous, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. And this time, it wasn’t due to Diego’s proximity. She passed the note to Diego so he could get a closer look.

  “Does anybody else know about this?” she asked.

  Damian looked troubled. “A couple times over the years, I’ve shown the communications to Lorena. We agreed to keep a close eye on the level and type of contact from him. But, frankly, it wasn’t worth our time to follow up until now.”

  Lorena was a veteran profiler, or mindhunter. Her psychology training and years of experience with the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit prior to her work for SSAM gave her unique insight into the minds of criminals.

  “What does she have to say about this note?” Becca asked.

  “On the surface, the words are supportive, but there’s a dark undercurrent. And he’s obviously been following me...and now, you.”

  “Following you?” Diego asked. “How do you know?”

  Something shifted in Damian’s eyes. “The reference to white roses... I leave white roses on Sam’s grave every weekend before church.”

  Becca’s heart squeezed for him. “So this guy really is a stalker, not just a fan?”

  “With this note, and now yours, I’m starting to think so. He would have had to follow me from where I live now, close to the Loop, to where I used to live. Sam is buried in All Saints Parish near Kenilworth. But I haven’t gone to her grave in at least three weeks.” A flicker of pain tightened his features.

  He’d petitioned to have Sam’s body exhumed to do further testing, to determine if the previous identification had been falsified. Through business and through SSAM, Damian had extensive connections in the Chicago area and was able to get the exhumation approved. Years ago, a positive ID had been made based on the clothing scraps that had been found on the skeletal remains. But now, DNA testing would be done. The current theory was that once the Circle had realized they’d taken a girl with a powerful father, they’d covered their tracks in a hurry by making it look like a serial killer who’d been active in the area had killed her. As to whether they’d killed Samantha, or some other girl they’d dressed in her clothes, it would be several days before Damian saw any definitive results.

  Damian’s gaze was miserable as it landed on Becca. “This person’s been watching me for a while, and now it seems he’s expanding his scope to include you.”

  Diego scowled at Becca. “What does he mean by the text he sent you, when he refers to where you were this afternoon? Is that what the picture’s about?”

  She’d wondered how long it would take before they’d focus on that. And she didn’t want to share her thoughts until she knew where Diego stood with the Circle. “The picture is the outside of a diner I was in earlier today. I was following a lead.”

  “For a case you’re working here in New York?”

  “It’s for Sam’s case, in Chicago, but my lead was here.” And that was all she’d give him.

  His frown deepened as he realized she’d just erected a roadblock.

  Damian cleared his throat to break the sudden tension in the room. “Maybe you should stop. It’s too dangerous to investigate—”

  Becca threw a hand up to halt him. “I don’t want to go into that until we’re alone. Maybe at our breakfast meeting?”

  Damian must have sensed something in her tone or nonverbal cues, because he immediately stood. “Yes, let’s plan on that.”

  Beside her, Diego had stiffened as if his whole body was going into red-alert mode. “What aren’t you telling me? What’s too dangerous?”

  Finding out your ex-lover may be working for a violent crime syndicate.

  Damian stood with a grim smile. “I’m sure Becca will fill you in if she feels it’s necessary. Good night.”

  She lifted her brows at Diego, an invitation to follow Damian’s example and leave, but he remained stubbornly in his seat. At six-foot-two and at least two hundred pounds of solid muscle, she’d have to call hotel security to budge him unless she could convince him to walk out on his own.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir,” she told Damian at the door.

  “Keep your wits about you.” His gaze shifted to Diego and she knew he was advising this in all areas of her life.

  “Always.” She closed the door behind him and turned to Diego. “It’s been a long night and I’d like to get some sleep.”

  Diego ignored her suggestion. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing you need to know about.” She shrugged, hoping it was true...hoping he didn’t have a connection to the Circle.

  He rose in one fluid motion and practically stalked toward her. Her pulse thumped so hard in her ears he could probably hear it. “You helped me once. I want to help you. Let me help you.”

  She read the earnestness in his eyes and nearly caved. But there was no way she could work with him. Not when she didn’t trust him. And she damn sure couldn’t trust herself around him. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer, but—”

  He reached for her and laid a palm against either side of her neck. Surely he felt her pulse racing beneath his fingers. Contrary to the messages her brain was screaming, his warmth soothed the stiff muscles there. “Just accept the help.” His gaze moved to her lips.

  Her will was weakening. A good offense is the best defense.

  “I can’t accept help from someone I can’t trust.” Calmly, she issued her ultimatum. “If you want to help, first tell me how you’re involved with the Circle.”

  Chapter Four

  Diego had once been jolted with a Taser as part of his training at the police academy. Being on the receiving end of Becca’s doubt and insinuation was ten times the shock. Her question arced through him like electricity, stunning him with a pain like no other.

  He jerked his hands away from her neck and stepped back. “The Circle?” How the hell did she know about that?

  But Becca, being the headstrong woman she was, didn’t back down under his glare. The subtle point of her chin shot up a notch. “The group has recently been connected to Samantha’s disappearance—and you’ve recently been connected to them.”

  He flexed his muscles, fighting not to react beneath her judgmental gaze. From any other person, he could take the accusation. Hell, he’d held up under Herrera’s criticism. But not from her. They’d shared too much. More than most people shared, even if she did want to label it just plain fun.

  You
shared nothing but your grief and a passion that was bound to burn out sometime. Apparently, he’d been wrong to think they knew each other just because they’d had a few intense days together. She didn’t know him at all, and he’d been desperate to see a connection that wasn’t there.

  She was watching him closely, her eyes widening with every second that went by...judging him unworthy. Guilty. Hell, he was, but not in the way she thought.

  He took a step toward her, closing the gap. “Connected? Why would you say that?”

  “I have my sources.” She sank against the wall behind her. As if she could get away. As if she was afraid—of him. The thought halted him in his tracks and sat like a cold rock in his belly.

  “I have the right to know my accuser’s name.”

  “You do know of the Circle, then?” Her words were quiet, emotionless. As if he’d burst her last bubble of hope. He knew the feeling.

  “No NYPD detective worth his salt can function without running up against them at some point.” Like cockroaches, the Circle’s henchmen lay low, lived in the shadows and were impossible to extinguish. Plus, they had the strength of money, international resources and decades of established trade patterns. And they were dangerous as hell. Damian was right to suggest she halt her investigation. But, God...Sam? Damian thought his daughter was taken by the Circle? He could only imagine the continuous loop of horrible scenarios playing in the man’s head. No wonder he’d looked so tired.

  “My source named you, specifically, and says you’re on the Circle’s side. A mole.” Becca’s voice faded to a whisper. Fear flickered in her eyes, wounding him to the core. She swallowed nervously.

  He huffed out a humorless laugh. She believed he was involved with the worst crime ring to hold New York City—and many other cities—within its deadly grasp. Unfortunately, she was right, and he couldn’t tell her the real story. Especially not if she already distrusted him. He saw the judgment in her eyes and her preconceived notions shredded him.

  His words came out as a growl as he pushed them past the tightness in his throat. “Heed Damian’s advice and back away from the Circle. Bad things happen to people who come near them.” He should know.