THE GIRL NEXT DOOR (3 page)

“She’s not one of ours,” the clipped voice on the other end of the line responded. That voice belonged to Bruce Mercer. Cooper’s boss. A man who knew where every single secret was buried in D.C.

Mostly because his job was to bury those secrets.

“You sure about that?” Cooper pressed. “She was found in her apartment, with the doors locked. Her throat was slit, and there were no signs of a struggle.”

A low whistle. “You sure learned a lot on this one, fast.”

His gaze tracked over to Gabrielle. She was currently talking quickly to a uniformed cop. The cop looked nervous. Since Gabrielle was grilling him, the guy should be nervous. “I had a little help.” She’d been the one to get all of those details.

“The reporter.” A long sigh slipped from Mercer. “I thought you had her contained.”

Containing Gabrielle was a bit of a challenge. It was a good thing that he liked challenges. “I can use her. The cops tell her more in a few minutes than they would ever reveal to me.” He had the P.I. cover for a reason, but Gabrielle’s resources were proving to be far more useful.

Gabrielle eased away from the cop and gazed up at the building.

Trying to find a way inside, aren’t you?

She edged toward the left, moving near the alley that he knew snaked behind those apartments.

“Melanie Farrell is
not
one of our agents.” Mercer was adamant. “She shouldn’t be targeted by our rogue.”

The rogue—the EOD agent that Cooper was hunting.

“Kylie Archer wasn’t an agent, either,” Cooper said, going with his gut.

“Who?”

“She was killed a few months ago. Again, same damn MO.”

“Our guy has been busy.” Anger heated Mercer’s words.

Our guy.
Because they did think it was one of their own. One who’d tried to attack Mercer by going after his daughter and now...

“I found out that Kylie was romantically involved with Keith.” Well, Gabrielle had found that out.

He couldn’t see her now. Cooper’s body tensed.

“The guy tried to get at you by taking away the one person who mattered,” Cooper said.

Mercer’s daughter.

“He couldn’t get her, so maybe he decided to attack other agents by going after the people they valued.” It was a theory that he was just developing, but so far, the pieces fit.

“That idea only plays,” Mercer said slowly, “if we can link Melanie to an EOD agent.”

“Sydney can find a link.” If anyone could, it would be here. Sydney Sloan Ortez was in charge of information retrieval for the EOD. When it came to computers, no one was better. She could dig into any person’s life with her machines. Could, and had.

“I’ll get her started,” Mercer promised. “In the meantime, you keep tracking this rogue. He knows our agents, he knows us, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with these attacks on my watch.”

Mercer hung up. Cooper pushed the phone into his back pocket. Gabrielle had slipped into the alley, and she’d never glanced back to see if anyone was watching her.

She should learn to pay attention to what—
who—
was behind her.

He’d sure gotten the drop on her easily enough in that apartment. If he
had
been the killer, she would have died.

His back teeth ground together as he stalked toward the alley. He’d had no idea that his neighbor was so drawn to danger.

Just like me.
But he knew why he liked the thrill that came from danger. That burst of adrenaline made him feel alive.

What drew Gabrielle into the darkness?

* * *

T
HE
FIRE
ESCAPE
led all the way up the side of the building. Gabrielle studied that fire escape, considering the options. It would sure be easy enough for the killer to slide through a window in the victim’s apartment then flee down the fire escape.

Was that why the front door was locked? Did you get out this way?

She slipped deeper into the alley. The voices were muted here. Her shoe brushed over a discarded aluminum can. The acrid odor of rotten garbage was strong in that alley.

Gabrielle glanced to the left. A green garbage container sat to the side. The alley snaked away a bit then opened to another street.

Since there were no lights in that area, it would have been easy enough for the killer to hide down there.

“You’re in the wrong place.”

The whisper drifted to her. When the words sank in, Gabrielle froze.

“You shouldn’t be here, all alone...”

She whirled around. That voice was coming from the shadows near the garbage container. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Laughter. Low and chilling. “Not yet...not yet...”

Goose bumps rose on her arms.

“Gabrielle!”

That was Cooper. A shout had never sounded more wonderful.

Before she could call out to him, something—someone—grabbed her and shoved her into the brick wall of the alley. Her head hit the bricks, hard, and her body slumped.

“Not yet...”
That whisper told her once more.

Then she didn’t hear anything else.

* * *

S
HE
HADN
’
T
ANSWERED
HIM
.

Cooper rushed forward, running fast. She’d just been out of his sight for a few minutes. The cops were close by. Gabrielle couldn’t just vanish.

A crumpled form lay curled near a garbage container.

Gabrielle.

He didn’t realize that he’d bellowed her name. But in the next instant, he was on his knees beside her, frantically searching for a pulse at the base of her throat.

The pulse beat slow, steady, beneath his fingers.

He brushed back her hair. Her head slumped weakly against his hold.

What in the hell had happened?

His gaze flew around the alley. It was too dark to see much.

And he didn’t hear anyone.

“Gabrielle?” His fingers shifted through her hair. When he found the bump on the side of her head, he swore.

Then he stood, holding her carefully in his arms. She needed help.

“Freeze!” a male’s voice shouted.

He wasn’t in the mood to freeze. He was in the mood to get Gabrielle help.

Light from a flashlight hit him in the face. That light was so blinding that it made viewing the person connected to that voice hard. The man was little more than a shadow.

“Gabrielle?” The guy’s voice roughened. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Cooper growled. “When I found her, she was unconscious. I’m trying to help her.”
And you’re slowing me down.

The light came closer.

“I’m not armed,” Cooper told him. That wasn’t true, but the man wouldn’t notice the weapons he carried. They were too well concealed. “We need to get her help.”

He could see the man’s face now. It was the detective from the other night, Lane Carmichael.

“I remember you,” Carmichael said, obviously placing him. “You were at the other crime scene, too.”

Great.
Not
the connection Cooper wanted the detective to make. If he wasn’t careful, the cops would start looking at him for the kills.

He wasn’t sure his P.I. cover could stand up to their perusal.

Carmichael yanked out his radio and called for backup—and an EMT.

A moan slipped from Gabrielle’s lips. Under the flashlight, her lashes began to flutter. She blinked a few times then seemed to focus on him. “C-Cooper?”

“It’s all right,” he tried to reassure her. “I’ve got you.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “S-saving me...again? You’re making a h-habit of it...”

Yes, he was.

The EMT ran toward him. The man reached for Gabrielle.

For an instant, Cooper had the crazy urge to keep holding her.
I don’t want to let her go.

But he never got too close to anyone or anything. That was the way he wanted his life to be. The way it had always been.

He let her go.

As she was taken away from him, Cooper’s shoulders tensed. He was going to find out exactly what had happened to Gabrielle in that alley.

Once more, his gaze swept the area, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

With this killer, I wouldn’t.

The ambulance’s siren blared, and Cooper found himself hurrying toward that sound.

* * *

H
E
HADN
’
T
BEEN
able to resist. The woman had been right there. All alone.

She was the one who kept digging into his life.

So he’d thought it would only be fair that he started to play with
her
life.

The fact that she was connected to Cooper Marshall was just bonus. The connection made things even more interesting.

I can use her.

But not yet. She didn’t matter enough. Not yet.

He whistled as he walked down the street. Plenty of tourists were still out. Even this late, the streets were full of people.

It was easy to blend with those people. To walk right past the overworked cops.

Cooper had climbed into the ambulance. He was playing hero. That wasn’t a role well suited to the man.

He and Cooper were a lot alike. That was why Mercer had Cooper hunting him.

Darkness clung to them both. They were loners. Killers.

In the end, though, only one of them would survive this game.

It wouldn’t be Cooper.

Pity. He’d once called the man friend.

Now, he just thought of Cooper Marshall as a target.

Chapter Three

Gabrielle took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her skirt. Then she lifted her hand and knocked soundly on Cooper’s door.

She had a proposition for him, one that she very much hoped he’d accept. She wanted—

The door swung open. Only Cooper wasn’t the person standing on the other side of that door.

A very pretty woman with glass-sharp cheekbones and shoulder-length black hair stared back at Gabrielle.

A date. He’s on a date.
The kiss—the one she ridiculously thought about far too much—had been fake. As good-looking as Cooper was,
of course,
the guy had a pretty girlfriend.

“Can I help you with something?” The woman asked. Her voice was smooth. Friendly. Her smile was a little uncertain.

“I was looking for Cooper.”

“He’s in the shower—”

The floor could truly open up and swallow her. She’d been indulging in some serious fantasy time with Cooper, and he’d been...busy...with this lady.

“—but you’re welcome to come in and wait for him, if you’d like.” The woman backed up, pulling the door open a few more inches. “You’re his neighbor, right? The reporter?”

She didn’t want to cross that threshold. She didn’t want to, but Gabrielle still needed Cooper’s help. “Yes. I am.” She offered her hand. “Gabrielle Harper.”

The woman’s shake was firm and warm. “I’m Rachel.”

You weren’t supposed to dislike people you didn’t know. She’d just met pretty Rachel. Rachel seemed friendly. Rachel also seemed to be eyeing her with a gaze that was a little too assessing.

Then Cooper appeared. He strode down the hallway, a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips. No shirt. His hair was wet.
Fresh from the shower.

When he saw Gabrielle, he came to a very fast and hard stop.

“Company,” Rachel murmured as she dropped Gabrielle’s hand. A faint smile curled her lips. “I was just getting acquainted with your nice neighbor.”

Cooper’s blue gaze narrowed. Then he started walking again, a determined stride that carried him right to Gabrielle. “How’s your head?” His hands lifted, as if he’d touch her head. “I’m sorry I left you at the hospital—I’m not family, so the doctors wouldn’t let me stay with you.”

She caught his hands, flushed. “I’m fine. My dad always did say that I had a hard head.”

He didn’t smile. “You were unconscious in that alley. When I first saw you, I was afraid that you were dead.”

She was still holding his hands in front of his girlfriend. This scene was so awkward. She stepped back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt when you had company. I can come back later.” She sidled toward the door. “It was, uh, nice to meet you, Rachel.”
Total lie.

Cooper gave a rough bark of laughter. “Rachel isn’t company. She’s—” But then he broke off, frowning. “Wait, who do you think she is?”

That was a weird question, but Gabrielle blurted, “Girlfriend?”

Rachel was the one to laugh then. “He should be so lucky.” She bent and scooped up a designer bag. “We’re just friends. No worries on that score.” She winked at Gabrielle. “Maybe that makes it nicer to meet me?”

It did.

Rachel inclined her head toward Cooper. “And maybe you can meet up with me and Dylan later? I know he’d love to get an update on you.”

Cooper gave a quick nod. “Will do.”

It had to be her imagination, but Gabrielle could have sworn the enthusiasm in his voice was faked.

Rachel slipped away a few moments later, and Cooper locked the door behind her.

Gabrielle’s hands twisted in front of her. It had been almost two days since she’d last seen him. She’d thought about him plenty during that time.

Especially when the flowers arrived at the hospital—lilacs, her favorite. There hadn’t been a card, just the flowers.

“You sure that you’re okay?” He took her elbow and guided her to the couch.

She’d be better—less distracted—if he put on a shirt, but Gabrielle nodded. “I needed to thank you, both for finding me in that alley and for the flowers. I, um, lilacs are my favorite.” She wore a lilac-scented body lotion, because she loved the smell so much.

His blond brows lifted. “How do you know they were from me?”

She blinked. Embarrassment burned through her. Since she wasn’t dating anyone, she’d just assumed they were from him. “I—”

He laughed. “You sure are pretty when you blush. And, yes, they were from me.” His fingers brushed back a lock of her hair. “I’m glad you liked them.”

She had those lilacs upstairs, sitting in a vase on her kitchen table. Every time she looked at them, she smiled.

But you’re here on business. Don’t get distracted.
Gabrielle cleared her throat. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

His hand lowered. She was hyperconscious of the strength of his body next to hers. “Sure. Give me just a minute, okay?” He rose and disappeared down the hallway.

She didn’t move. She wanted to move. She wanted to pry and search—

Hold that curiosity back.

She stayed locked to the couch. He returned quickly, pulling a black T-shirt over his head. The man certainly seemed to enjoy wearing black.

“I was about to make some dinner. Want something?”

Gabrielle shook her head.

A half smile lifted his lips. “Come on, I make a mean spaghetti. It’s a recipe I stole from Rachel. Her family’s Italian, and
no one
does spaghetti better.”

Her stomach growled.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.

Then he headed into the kitchen. She heard pots and pans clanking. Gabrielle rose and followed after him. “I didn’t come here so that you would fix me dinner.”

He already had the water set to boil. Tomatoes were spread out on the counter.

“That’s right,” he said easily. “You came here to ask me questions. So ask.”

While he cooked? She’d expected something a little more...businesslike.

“Ask.” He sliced the tomatoes. Fast and with almost fanatical skill. She’d never seen anyone be so good with a knife.

“I...um...” She exhaled slowly.
Stop being frazzled with him.
“Did you see anyone else in that alley with me?”

He stopped slicing. He glanced at her, held her gaze. “It was dark. I could only see you.”

That didn’t mean that no one else had been there. “Did you hear anything?” Gabrielle asked carefully.

He dropped the pasta then came toward her while the sauce simmered. “No, I didn’t hear anything.” He propped against the counter and studied her. “Why?”

“Because I don’t remember falling.”

“After a head injury like yours, I know it’s common to forget—”

“What I do remember,” she said, speaking quickly and cutting through his words, “is a man’s voice.”

“What?”

“I told Lane—Detective Carmichael, but he said the alley was searched thoroughly, both before and after my ‘accident,’ and there was no sign of anyone else there. Anyone else other than you, anyway.”

Lane wasn’t exactly a fan of Cooper’s. In fact, he seemed pretty suspicious of Cooper. But then, Lane was suspicious of most folks. That was his nature.

“If you’re trying to ask me if I slipped into the alley and slammed your head against a wall...” She saw Cooper’s knuckles whiten as he clenched the edge of the countertop. “The answer is
no,
I didn’t do that.”

Gabrielle quickly shook her head. “That wasn’t the question I was asking. I know you didn’t do it. You’re the guy who keeps rushing in to save me, not hurt me.”

He blinked. A furrow appeared between his brows. “That’s a whole lot of trust to give someone. You don’t know me that well.”

“I know you well enough to realize you aren’t a killer.”

He gazed steadily back at her. “Do you?”

What kind of response was that? It almost sounded as if he were trying to scare her. “Look, it wasn’t your voice.”

Cooper held up a hand. “You’ve lost me.”

“I remember hearing a man’s voice. It wasn’t your voice.”

Now there was doubt in his blue eyes. Lane had looked at her with the same doubt when she’d tried to explain this situation to him.

His hand fell back to his side. “There was a lot going on that night. It would be easy to get confused. Especially with that bump on your head.”

“A minor concussion.” She waved it away.

He stepped from the counter and caught her hand. “You don’t shrug away an injury like that. Head injuries can be dangerous.”

When he touched her, her heart beat faster. An electric current seemed to run through her body.
Just from a touch.
“That’s why I stayed in the hospital. To make sure everything was okay.” And because her boss at the paper had insisted on it. Hugh had told her she either stayed or she looked for a new job.

He didn’t take kindly to his reporters being hurt.

She didn’t take kindly to
being
hurt. “I know what I heard.”

His gaze turned guarded. “Then tell me.”

“A man grabbed me in that alley. He told me that I was in the wrong place.” The memory of that rasping voice rolled through her mind. “And then he said...
not yet.
”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t remember his face?”

“I remember the feel of his hands grabbing me. I remember the rasp of his voice, but his face?”
If only.
“No, I don’t remember that. I’m not even sure if I saw him. I was hoping that maybe you’d seen something.”

“You were the only thing I saw.”

He turned away from her. Cooper spent a few moments in silence as he finished preparing their meal.

“It could’ve been a mugger,” she said to his back, as he reached for some plates. “I didn’t have a purse with me, so maybe that’s why he ran after I passed out.”

“It could have been.” He shut the cabinets with a rough motion of his hands.

“It could also have been the killer.” That was her fear. Her suspicion. “I think he escaped the apartment by climbing down the fire escape. He fled through that alley. Maybe he dropped something. Maybe he had to go back for it.” She followed him to the table. “Or maybe he was just one of those guys who enjoys going back to the scene of the crime. Someone who likes to watch the cops spin their wheels and come up with nothing.”

He pulled out a chair for her. “Is that what the cops have?”

She eased into the seat. “Lane says there aren’t any suspects. No prints, DNA or any other evidence was left at the scenes.”

He sat across from her. He picked up his fork.

“I went back to all the crime scenes—” Gabrielle began.

The fork clattered against his plate.

“I didn’t break in,” she rushed to clarify, realizing how he must have interpreted her words. “I looked behind the buildings. Kylie Archer’s place had a fire escape, too. The killer could easily have escaped on it.”

“Lockwood didn’t have a fire escape.”

“No, he didn’t.” The spaghetti smelled fabulous. “But then again, maybe that’s the reason why Lockwood’s front door was smashed in. The attacker didn’t have any other way to get inside, so he had to use force there.”

Cooper ate in silence.

She took a bite of the spaghetti. He hadn’t been lying. It was fantastic. “I’ll have to make you one of my cherry pies,” she said, sending him a nervous smile. “You did dinner, so I can do dessert.”

His head tilted. His eyes heated, the blue getting even brighter. “Sounds like a date.”

“I—” She nearly choked on the spaghetti. “I have a proposition for you.”

That half smile flashed again. Did he have a dimple in his cheek? It looked like he did.

Sexy.

“I’d love to hear the proposition.”

He made it sound...hot. It wasn’t. She put her fork down. “I want us to work together.” She tried not to let the words come out as desperate.

He kept eating.

“I think we could make a good team. We could keep investigating the cases and find the killer—”

“I’m not in the market for a partner.”

Okay. He was going to make her lay everything out for him. She’d have to show that desperation, after all. “But I am in the market for some protection.” Because she was afraid, and Gabrielle didn’t want to let the fear stop her from doing her job. “I think someone has been watching me. I think
he
has been watching me.”

* * *

“T
ELL
ME
AGAIN
...”
Dylan Foxx began as he narrowed his eyes on Rachel Mancini. “Why is Cooper having a cozy dinner with the reporter? He’s supposed to be keeping her out of this mess and not—”

“—seducing her?” Rachel finished. She’d seen the way Cooper looked at the other woman. She knew exactly what was on his mind.

Dylan shut the door of his office. They were in the EOD headquarters, a place most civilians would never visit. Actually, most civilians would never even know of its existence.

The EOD was a hybrid organization, one composed of former members of various military branches. The EOD had been founded and was still led by Bruce Mercer. The EOD was far off the books, and the agents took jobs that no one else could handle.

Jobs that often ended in violence. Death.

The EOD agents were the ones who went out after the hostages that
couldn’t
be rescued. They were the ones who eliminated the most dangerous threats in the world.

Right now, unfortunately, one of those threats came from within.

A rogue agent.

Suspicion was rampant in the EOD. Trust, the cornerstone of the agency’s success, was being shattered. If you couldn’t trust the agent who had your back in the field, how were you supposed to complete the mission?

Rachel sank into the chair near Dylan’s desk. She trusted him 100 percent. But she wasn’t ready to extend that trust to all of the agents at the EOD.

They all knew how to kill, lie and keep secrets.

Someone was using those deadly skills.

“I could see them through the window,” Rachel murmured. Not that she enjoyed the Peeping-Tom bit. “They went into the kitchen and the guy cooked.”

“Cooper?” Dylan’s dark brows shot up.

She nodded. “Maybe he’s just trying to get under her guard. The lady has proven to be pretty resourceful.”