Cold Fear (41 page)

Frazer leapt after the guy, approaching from the side. When he crested the top of the dune, a shot whizzed past his head. He threw himself to the ground, felt the horrifying snap as something went in his ankle. He rolled several times. Shit. His Achilles tendon had either torn or snapped. He heard another gunshot, and a grunt. Then he heard a woman scream, and his whole body froze. He tried to take a step, but he couldn’t push off on his right foot.

This was not happening. He wasn’t about to lose the one woman in his life he’d truly come to care for—shit,
love—
because he’d injured his ankle. It was too soon to know if they’d have a future together, but he intended to make sure she lived long enough to get to make a choice.

He dropped to his hands and knees and started to crawl.

*     *     *

I
ZZY’S HEAD WHIPPED
up when she heard Frazer’s voice snatched away on the blustery wind. She heard a shot and yelled out instinctively. Damn. Had they caught Seth? Was she safe? Or had Seth shot Frazer?

That thought had her pausing in her headlong flight. Where was everyone? She turned back toward where she’d last seen Seth, surreptitiously peering through the grass. Below her, a shadow moved and she froze, not knowing if it was Seth, or someone trying to help her.

She caught a glint of what looked like FBI initials on the back of a black jacket and opened her mouth to cry for help, only to feel strong fingers manacling her ankle and hauling her roughly down the slope. She screamed and kicked with her free leg, catching the gun and knocking it out of his hand. The connection hurt, but it was worth the pain.

Seth swore, but rather than searching for the weapon, he threw himself down on top of her, jamming her cast against her battered ribs, causing so much pain she almost blacked out. He clamped one hand over her mouth to silence her, and the other squeezed her throat, cutting off her air.

Oh, God.
She panicked, bucking and flailing beneath him. She could feel his arousal against her stomach and had enough presence of mind to be grateful he wasn’t raping her.

“Do you see it, Izzy?” Seth whispered urgently in her ear.

She gave a nod, and he paused as if shocked, easing the pressure on her throat enough for her to draw in a tiny breath.

“What? What do you see?” His hot breath brushed her cheek and turned her stomach.

He ground his dick against her, and it made her want to throw up, but he was obviously obsessed with near-death experiences so she made something up.

“There’s a woman, and she’s beckoning me.” It seemed to be what he needed to hear. “I feel as if I know her.”

He pressed his fingers tighter around her throat again, dry humping her, because apparently this stuff got the guy off. “Tell her to wait for me, Izzy.”

“Tell her yourself, asshole,” came a voice from the sidelines. Frazer tackled Seth and took him flying down the dune, sand cascading around them as both men rolled on the ground.

Her gun. Izzy scrambled through the sand, hands searching as she sucked in oxygen and prayed her vision would realign sooner rather than later. Her fingers hit pay dirt, and she snatched up her Glock.
Don’t let the firing mechanism be clogged.

She tried to scream for help but nothing came out except a gravelly croak. She went down the steep side of the dune on her backside. Then she hesitated as one of the shadows leaned over the other and punched whoever was on the ground over and over in the face—just like Seth had done to Duncan Cromwell that morning.

“Stop.” The word shuddered out of her mouth. Was it Frazer being beaten? Her finger eased onto the trigger, but she was unable to see clearly in the darkness. “Stop!”

“It’s okay. It’s me.”

Frazer stood and stumbled toward her, and she realized he was okay. It was Seth knocked out cold. She ran toward Frazer. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but he got out his cuffs.

She froze.

He gave her a tired-sounding laugh. “Help me get him on his stomach so we can secure and arrest him.”

She approached Seth with caution, and noticed Frazer was limping heavily. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“You hold the pistol on him, and I’ll turn him over. Shoot him if he tries to escape, okay?”

She nodded, awed at the trust he was placing in her. Frazer rolled the unconscious man onto his front and then grabbed both wrists behind his back. The ratchet of metal against metal was the best sound she’d ever heard. Then the next best thing filtered through the night. The sound of other officers arriving, and Lucas Randall rushing toward them.

“Are you all right?” Randall asked.

“We are now. But we both need to go to the hospital.” Frazer removed her Glock from her numb fingers and put it in his pocket. Took her good hand and kissed her knuckles. His were dark with blood.

She grabbed him when he collapsed to the ground. Her hands raced over him, looking for wounds.

He caught her hand, kissed it again. “I think I tore my Achilles. I feel like a lame frickin’ idiot.”

Izzy winced.

He handed her his flashlight. She gave his ankle a cursory examination to test the range of motion and make sure there was no bleeding, or obvious broken bones. There wasn’t.

“Seth said he had Kit.”

Frazer brushed her hair off her forehead. “Kit’s fine.” She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he preempted her. “Mary Neville is in the hospital.” He dragged her close to his chest. “Come here.” And kissed her full on the mouth.

She sank deep into it, unable to believe he was here, that he’d helped save her life, and he didn’t hate her. The way he kissed her was both reverent and domineering, and a total turn-on despite the circumstances—until her beautiful retriever joined in.

She hugged Barney against her face, absorbing the silky softness of his coat. She kissed him, too. “I’m so glad you’re okay, boy.”

“This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?” Frazer spoke sternly to her dog and got a wet lick on the lips for his trouble. He laughed, and that’s when Izzy knew how completely she had fallen in love with this guy. “I know I was angry earlier. I was furious with you for holding back information so important to the case. Mad as hell you hadn’t trusted me enough to confide, which was stupid because why would you? As soon as I realized you were in danger it didn’t seem to matter anymore.” He kissed the corner of her lips. “I want a real relationship with you, Isadora Campbell. I’m done with this half measure shit.”

She drew back, blinking away the emotion that wanted to overwhelm her. “You know that won’t be possible.” She kissed him anyway because soon she’d have to tell everyone the truth about what she’d done, and she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want this to end.

His arm wrapped around her, and she leaned against him as Randall orchestrated the arrest of a man she’d known almost her entire life.

“Don’t tell them,” Frazer whispered in her ear.

She closed her eyes. It was so tempting. “I have to.”

His voice got lower. “I once shot a man like Seth Grundy in cold blood because he could have brought down the entire BAU. Should I turn myself in?”

Izzy looked at him open-mouthed, surprised he’d confessed that to her. Surprised he trusted her that much. She touched his stubbled jaw. “No, you shouldn’t. People like that aren’t like the rest of us. If you killed him, he deserved to die.”

Something in his eyes changed. Relaxed a fraction.

“But I’ve lived with this secret so long, I think it will destroy me if I don’t tell the truth now.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I still want a relationship with you.”

She pulled away and shook her head. “It could damage your career. I might not be allowed to practice medicine—”

“I don’t care.”

The stark simplicity of his words made her want to believe him. “I’m also the guardian of a seventeen-year-old girl,” she reminded him.

“Who is going to
love
Virginia.”

She blinked at him. Touched his forehead. “Do you have a head injury?”

“Ha.” He caught her hand and had a very serious expression on his face when he answered. “I’ve been fighting monsters since my parents died, Izzy.” She swallowed as he finally called her that. Like he’d stopped holding her at arm’s length. “But the one thing I never let myself search for was a way of moving on. I guess I figured if I kept hold of the anger and the pain I’d always have them with me. But I’m tired of doing nothing but hunt killers. I’m tired of being lonely. I want what they had. I think we might have a shot of that. What do you think?”

Paramedics placed Grundy on a stretcher and were carting him off with two armed officers flanking him.

She wiped away the tears that now were dripping off her chin. “You really want that with me? Because I’m already completely in love with you—”

He kissed her again, oblivious to the flashlights and law enforcement personnel milling around them. She let herself sink into the texture and taste of him. The hard planes and no bullshit attitude.

“What about Kit?” she asked, breaking away.

“We’ll see what the DA decides to do about you before we talk to her. I don’t want to rush you, but I think Kit would benefit from a change of scenery. There’s a good school in walking distance from where I live.”

She was unable to believe they were discussing this as the investigation whirled on around them. He mistook her silence for reluctance. “There are major trauma centers nearby, or if you want to go elsewhere or stay here, we can do the long distance thing for a while. Or I can get a transfer. Figure something out with work—hell, I can retire in a few years if I want.”

She frowned up at him. “You’d go insane. You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. Aren’t you listening?”

“Chasing killers is what you were meant to do—”

“No. It’s what a killer made me want to do, and for a long time it was all I had. For the first time ever I want something else. I want more.”

How could she believe that? “But it’s why you got divorced!”

“I got divorced because my wife was a bitch, and I’m done letting her destroy any chance I have of future happiness. Listen to me, Isadora Jane Campbell. All these years I’ve chased a thousand bad guys. For the first time, the thing that mattered most was not stopping him, but making sure you were safe. I don’t let people in.” His fingers squeezed her gently. “Ever. You have to know this is real.”

She touched his face. “You don’t let people in because they hurt you. I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

His smile was pure male arrogance. “Is that a yes to us being together?”

She shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. And way too bossy.”

“So I’ve been told.” He caught her hand and kissed it. “I am not an easy man.”

She swallowed. She’d been looking for someone her whole life, and she was terrified she was going to ruin it by not being brave enough to move forward. She rested her head against his shoulder, needing to be practical even though what she really wanted was to dance in a circle with happiness. “Let’s take it one day at a time, okay?”

He kissed the top of her head as the paramedics finally arrived to check them out. “One day at a time for as long as it takes. You’ve got it.”

*     *     *

T
HE SOUND OF
keys in the main lock jerked him upright in his bunk. Footsteps moved down quiet corridors, and Ferris’s heart pounded against his ribs. The footsteps stopped in front of his door, and there stood the warden.

“You want your chance to help people?” Her gaze raked his stained sweaty garb as if it were his fault he wasn’t properly dressed. Ten minutes alone, and he’d have her stripped and bloody and begging. “I suggest you get dressed.” She tapped something against her other hand. Maps.
Shit
.

They were going to let him show them where he buried the bodies. He shook with excitement. He’d draw out the process, give them a snippet of information on every outing—another name, another shallow grave. He’d prove his worth to the system and the families, delay his execution, and look for the chance to escape. He stood and dropped his pants, giving her a full view of his nakedness. She didn’t look away, just stared into his eyes until he figured he better hurry up before she changed her mind.

The phone. Shit. He needed the phone.

“Would you mind giving me a moment of privacy, Warden, please?”

She stood farther back, between two hulking guards. The others stirred and shouted out questions from their cells.

“Where you taking him?”

“Mr. Denker wants to help us find the bodies of some of his victims,” the warden said.

“Why you moving him in the middle of the night like a…” Billy Painter trailed off.

“Like a thief?” Warden Jones arched a sharp thin brow. She was a little harsh compared to the last guy. Denker knew women often compensated for lack of a penis with increased bitchery. “We’re trying to avoid having a cavalcade of press on the road.”

Nighttime suited him just fine.

“I don’t trust her, Ferris,” Billy complained.

Ferris palmed the phone, put the battery in real fast, and placed it under his dick as he pulled up his underwear. He pulled his prison-issue cotton shirt over his head, slipping the SIM card into a tiny hole he’d picked in the hem. He dragged on threadbare socks and the shit canvas shoes they were forced to wear. “It’s okay, Billy. My lawyer told the press that I’d try and help those families get some closure. Governor must’ve agreed.”

“I don’t trust her, Ferris.” Billy looked genuinely perplexed that he was using any way possible to get out of here.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be back later. I’ll tell you what color the leaves are and how sweet the grass smells.” He hoped to hell he escaped. He put his arms through the slit in the bars and the biggest guard, a guy called Henry, attached shackles around his wrists. He stood back while they opened the door. Then they fettered his ankles and connected the restraints to his bound hands so he couldn’t bring them high enough to wrap the chain around someone’s neck and squeeze.

Spoilsports.

“See you later, guys.” Hopefully not. The idea he might find some opportunity to escape ate at him.