Evan focused on driving, his thoughts tangling in the motion of the windshield wipers. It was raining again—small, cold, piercing drops that accentuated the thermic discomfort. At night, the temperatures had begun to drop close to freezing. God, he missed the California sun! He’d been giving serious consideration to the idea that after he solved this case, he should move back. Maybe take a job as a small-town sheriff, someplace where the crime was limited to drinking-and-driving or stealing a neighbor’s cow.
He darted a glance at Chelsea. She sat huddled in her coat, hands clasped together in her lap, seeking warmth. On the one hand, she resembled a young, helpless child he wanted to protect at all costs, but when her exotic eyes met his, she was all woman, and he ached to take her in his arms and kiss the life out of her. No, he couldn’t leave her. Not now, not ever. For no matter how hard he fought it, he was falling in love with her. He hadn’t realized it until he’d told her he could kill Aideen—and meant it. If necessary, he could have fought the devil himself for Chelsea. But would he be able to protect her? Because right now, he didn’t have a clue how to find that crazy bitch.
As though sensing his thoughts, Chelsea angled her body toward him.
“Do you think we’ll find her?” she asked.
“We have to.”
“But how? She’s in the wind. For all we know, she could be in another country by now.”
Evan shook his head. “She won’t leave until her business is finished.” He was both convinced and terrified by that fact.
Chelsea was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “You mean killing me. I agree. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t finish what she started.”
Evan looked over at her, tried to gauge how she felt. Was it fear, outrage, weariness? There was a shade of defiance in her voice that made him uneasy.
“I think she’ll try, yes. But she can’t possibly succeed. I will make sure you’re safe, Chelsea.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t plan to hide.”
“You’re not hiding; you’re being smart while dealing with a dangerous lunatic. Anyone in your situation would have the Garda’s protection.”
“Would they be sleeping in your bed, too?”
“If it was absolutely necessary, yes,” he replied truthfully. “Do you want to grab something to eat before we go home?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry; I stuffed myself at lunch. But if you’re hungry, let’s—”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not hungry either. I just want to get home and take a hot shower.”
“Amen to that.”
As they approached his building, Evan felt as though he saw the light at the end of a dark tunnel. He parked, cut the engine, then he and Chelsea climbed out of the car. He shivered once in the cold night air and hurried his steps. Instinctively, he put an arm around Chelsea, who struggled to keep up with him. By the time they reached his door, they were both chuckling at their hurry to get inside.
Kieran started to meow as soon as Evan stuck the key in the lock. He felt bad about neglecting the cat, but what could he do? It was his job. Besides, Kieran was caterwauling for attention, not because he was hungry or thirsty since Evan always made sure he had plenty of food and water.
“Ye poor thing, come here, acushla,” Chelsea cooed to the cat, lifting him into her arms and rubbing her cheek against his.
Kieran was thrilled, purring loudly, whiskers twitching while he enjoyed their visitor’s scent.
“Hey, buddy, now you have someone to spoil you.” Smiling, Evan gave the cat a quick scratch behind the ears. “You know the drill; consider yourself at home,” he told Chelsea as he reached behind her to lock and bolt the door.
“It’s odd, but I do feel at home here.”
“I’m glad of that.” He took her chin between his fingers and tilted her head back. “You’re safe here and always welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Her gaze was soft as she smiled gratefully. She winced slightly when Kieran stuck his claw in her shoulder to better secure himself. Laughing, Chelsea shifted him to her other arm, then shrugged her purse off her shoulder and placed it on the shoe rack in the hallway. After more stroking and nuzzling, she put the cat down so she could take off her coat.
Satisfied for the moment, Kieran followed Evan into the living room, throwing glances over his shoulder to see if Chelsea was behind him.
Evan and Chelsea washed their hands in the bathroom, scrubbing vigorously. Although they’d both worn gloves while searching O’Banion’s flat, they both felt dirty.
After putting fresh food and water for Kieran in the kitchen, Evan joined Chelsea on the couch in the living room. She was fidgeting with the remote, but Evan got the impression she wasn’t really searching for a program to watch, just trying to occupy her mind.
He sat next to her, unable to stifle a groan of relief. His shoulder bothered him more than usual, and he couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and soak away the discomfort. But first, he had more urgent business to attend to.
He reached out for his laptop, opened it, and started typing. First, he sent an internal email to every member of the Garda, from superintendents to foot patrols, giving a brief summary of the case and adding Aideen O’Banion’s information. He attached several photos taken from multiple angles. If any guard saw this woman or someone who looked like her, they were supposed to stop and ID her, then contact Evan immediately. He ordered a shift of three Gardaí to discretely supervise the O’Banions’ home and another one to reach out to her sister in Germany and see what information he could gather. Then he wrote his report and emailed it to his chief. He didn’t want to be in Simon McLean’s shoes when the press got wind of this new development. As an FBI agent, Evan had had to deal with media often, and since this mess had started, he’d been approached by journalists several times. However, the code demanded he made no comment that hadn’t been approved by McLean, the Chief Inspector. Evan was more than okay with that, preferring to leave all the BS to the chief.
Half an hour later, he was finished. Next to him, Chelsea had remained quiet. She was watching some British show with the sound down low, Kieran napping on her lap. Evan put his laptop aside and gently rubbed his achy eye sockets.
“Sorry about that, but… It’s work,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. You don’t have to apologize, nor do you have to entertain me. I already have someone for that.” She brushed her finger over the very edge of Kieran’s ear. The cat’s ear twitched in reflex at the tickling motion, but he was too lazy to open his eyes.
Evan chuckled, stroking one of the cat’s chubby cheeks. “He’s nice to have around. Listen, I want to take a shower. Would you like to use the bathroom first?”
“No, you go ahead. I’m watching Doctor Who. By the time you finish, the episode will be over, and I’ll take my turn,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Okay. Want me to bring you something to drink or eat?”
“Just a glass of water, please. I’d get it myself, but I don’t want to disturb his highness.” She inclined her chin toward the cat in her lap.
“Good thinking.” Evan grinned, then went into the kitchen for the water.
He took a water bottle out of the refrigerator and poured some into a glass. Opening a cupboard, he shuffled through the contents until he found an unopened box of chocolate-glazed cookies. Chelsea had said she didn’t want a snack, but didn’t most women love chocolate? He’d seen the sadness and uneasiness behind her fake smile. If anything could make her feel better, it was chocolate.
He even thought of getting a couple of paper napkins and took the cookies and water to Chelsea. Her eyes lit up brightly when she saw the box.
“Sorry, I should have put them on a plate or something,” he mumbled, placing everything in front of her on the coffee table.
“No, this is perfect. Thank you so much for thinking of it. I appreciate it.”
Her smile was genuine this time. Evan wondered when and why they had become so polite to one another? Their conversation seemed so formal it was silly.
“No problem. I’ll go shower.”
He went to the bedroom to take out clean underwear and socks. He also grabbed a pair of track pants and a T-shirt from the dresser and carried everything into the bathroom.
He turned on the hot water and undressed, tossing his clothes into the hamper. After he debated, he took them out, folded them a little, then put them back. He was acting like an idiot! It had been too long since he’d lived with a woman. And it was the first time he was living with a woman he liked so damn much. What was he supposed to do about it? Romance was the last thing on his mind. At this point, though, his mind needed a break.
He stepped under the hot jet and actively fought to suppress a groan of pleasure. The water was a soothing balm easing away all of his aches, gently massaging and relaxing his tense muscles. He would have preferred a more powerful massage, though. What if he asked Chelsea to give him a rubdown? No, she was more tired than he was. Perhaps he should offer to give her a massage, but the thought of touching that smooth, creamy skin made him harden. He couldn’t get close to her without wanting to fuck her; it was impossible. The only thing he could do was keep his distance for now and focus on the case.
In the back of his mind, an unwanted thought sparked. Once they caught Aideen, Chelsea would return to her own home. There would be no more of her clothes neatly arranged in the corner of his dresser, no more of her sexy-scented shower gel, no more blond hairs in her cherry-colored hairbrush that looked so good on his bathroom shelf. He shook his head, droplets flying all over from his wet hair. He was too tired to analyze these thoughts right now.
After he scrubbed and shampooed, he got out of the shower and toweled off. He dressed in clean clothes, then brushed his teeth. Back in the living room, he found Chelsea munching a cookie. He’d been right about the chocolate. She looked better.
Seeing him, she smiled. “My turn?”
“Yep.”
He nodded, returning her smile.
Chelsea finished her cookie, then gently scooped Kieran into her arms and lowered him from her lap to the couch. The cat gave a small protesting meow, then opened his eyes and looked around. Yawning, he stretched from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. Chelsea stood and placed the cookies on the coffee table.
“I left some for you,” she said, winking at Evan as she walked past him to the bedroom.
He sat in the spot she’d just left. It was warm, her scent still lingering in the air, something sexy and bold, just like the woman who wore it. It amazed him how many layers there were to her, from the brilliant, award-winning psychologist, to the hot, playful goddess dressed in tight black leather and the vulnerable woman who’d sat here moments before, probably feeling helpless and even a little afraid. Who could blame her? It must be terrifying to have an obsessed maniac killing women just because they looked like you.
Evan believed Aideen was acting out a scenario when she killed Shannon and Jenny. In her mind, she was killing Chelsea—again and again. Maybe she was practicing until she reached her true target. That wasn’t going to happen—not as long as he was alive.
They had the motive, the evidence, the killer’s identity—all they had to do was find her. Easier said than done. Evan scratched Kieran’s belly meditatively, barely noticing the cat was playfully clawing at his hand to stop it from tickling him. He was too busy considering the aces up his sleeve. Reaching for his laptop, he got to work.
His first order of business was to browse through O’Banion’s social media accounts, searching for a clue as to where she would go if she were on the run. He would start with her blog and work his way through all of her rants, even if it took days. The key to her location could be in that sea of words.
He accessed the account in her name but then changed his mind and switched to Black Dawn. This was Aideen’s alter ego, the dark side of the moon. Black Dawn was the killer. He started to browse her public posts. He noticed she never referred to anyone by name whenever she ranted about someone; she just made it look like trash-talking in general. She was blatantly misogynistic, despite the fact that she was a woman herself. Evan realized this was why he’d assumed Black Dawn was a man. In his experience, men were way more misogynistic than women. But this was no ordinary woman.
She also posted plenty of pictures and sketches and sometimes quotes from authors or poets—always dark, wordy literature, the type of scribbles that condemned and criticized everything but never came up with a solution.
There were only a few photos that looked as though she’d taken them herself, closeups of green, leafy backgrounds, blackberries, bees. There was one of a stone wall set against a dramatic cloudy sky. The wall was cracked here and there. In the small crevices grew patches of moss. Where was this place? Maybe Chelsea would recognize some of these locations. Perhaps—
His thoughts trailed off as she padded into the living room, barefoot. She was wrapped in a towel that reached mid-thigh and wore another one wrapped around her head. The baby blue color of bath towels made her eyes look unearthly beautiful, her rosy skin so soft and creamy it was mouthwatering.
“Do you by chance have a hairdryer?” she asked, mouth twisted in a skeptical smile.
He set the laptop aside and stood, scratching his head. Did he have a hairdryer? No, damn it. He raked his fingers through his own short crop. He didn’t need one, and it had never occurred to him someone else would. Not in his home.
“I’m afraid not. I could… Go and buy one,” he heard himself say.
Chelsea burst into laughter. “Ah, Yank, you can be so sweet when you want to. No worries, I’ll just towel-dry my hair.”
She looked around, then she walked over, grabbed a cushion from the sofa, and took it next to the old-fashioned cast iron radiator. Curling up on the cushion, she took off the towel from her head and shook her wet hair loose.
Evan’s mouth went dry as he watched her rub her hair gently with the towel. How was he supposed to keep his hands off this woman? Even though the bath sheet covered most of her body in her curled-up position, he could still see skin. The curves of her breasts strained the edge of the towel, and her nipples made slight indentations beneath it. He imagined what was beyond the blue cotton. Was she wearing anything? Panties? She couldn’t be. She was right out of the shower. The soles of her feet looked as silky as a newborn’s. He desperately longed to brush his fingers over them. Or better yet, his lips.
“What are you working on?” she asked, giving him a sideways glance as she turned her head to one side, using her fingers to untangle her wet hair.
“Huh?”
She pointed to the laptop next to him.
“Oh, that.” Evan reached out to turn the screen toward her. “I was looking through O’Banion’s social media, the one she has as Black Dawn. I’m hoping we can find a clue regarding her current whereabouts. Do you know where this place is?”
Grabbing the laptop, he moved to sit next to her near the radiator. It was a sweet challenge he simply couldn’t resist.
Chelsea lowered her hands and brushed her hair aside, staring at the screen. It was the picture with the stone wall. She frowned, gazing intently at the photo.
“I think it’s Glasnevin Cemetery.” Instinctively, she reached out to touch the screen. “Yes, that’s it. I know this place. My mother’s buried there.”
Evan never knew what to say in these situations. As one who’d lost loved ones, though, he knew what he hated to hear from people—which was basically everything. Stuff like: They’re in a better place. You’ll understand why this happened one day. They’re watching you from Heaven and similar clichés angered instead of comforting him. He could only imagine what Chelsea had been through as a child whose mother had committed suicide. He’d glimpsed the surface of her trauma when he’d learned she’d written a book about schizophrenia, a book she’d told him she’d researched for years.
Instead of words, he took her hand into his and squeezed it. He hoped she would sense what he wanted to convey, and when she squeezed his fingers in return, he knew she had. In an easy, natural movement, she leaned into him, supporting her head against his shoulder. Evan was too hot sitting with his back against the radiator, but he would have stayed like that forever, with her by his side. Even his breathing slowed because he didn’t want to do anything to ruin this moment.
Chelsea looked up at his profile, her cheek still pressed against his shoulder.
“If we were hoping this was a clue, we flunked. She couldn’t possibly live in a cemetery for days, especially at the beginning of winter.”
“Yeah.”
Her hair was half dry now. Evan could smell her shampoo, a citrusy whiff that filled his nostrils every time she moved.
“Do you think we’ll ever find her, Evan? Honestly.”
“Yes.” He answered with all the resolve he felt. “I’ll keep digging until I draw her out. I won’t stop until I find her. And in the meantime, no matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”
He turned to her and cupped her cheeks between his palms, staring deep into those haunted, amethyst eyes. The utter trust he saw in them gave him wings. As she moistened her lips, he saw something else, something that matched his own yearning.
He fought with his conscience a moment longer, willing himself to lose. Why did they have to restrain themselves? He felt she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So what was to stop them from acting on it? Chelsea was no Mandi Klein, and he’d been an idiot not to realize that from the beginning. They both had issues, the timing was wrong, they were on a manhunt for a killer, but all that was part of being a cop. Since Chelsea was helping the Garda, he considered her one too. Cops had personal lives, had needs and desires. They risked their lives more than civilians. Didn’t that mean they should enjoy the good moments even more?
Evan looked into her eyes, searching for the answer. When her eyelids lowered, and she lifted her mouth to his, he knew he was right. In one fluid motion, he lowered his mouth to hers, then lost himself in her sweet, sweet taste.