Cynthia Eden - Fear For Me

Too easy. Too perfect of a hunt to pass up.

But the parents came home and screwed everything up.

“You weren’t supposed to go for her,” that dark voice continued, “and you weren’t supposed to go after Lauren so soon. We have a fucking plan, remember?”

He remembered he had his own plan. One that involved him being alone with Lauren. Cutting her. Again and again.

His partner wouldn’t watch, not with her.

“She owes me,” Jon spat and took another step forward.

“I know.” Understanding because he always understood Jon, as no one else ever had. “We’re going to make her pay for everything, but first there are others we can take. Others who aren’t as protected as the DA.”

Others. His mouth went dry. “I get to use my knife?”

“You used it on Stacy.”

Was that anger in his tone? His partner had never been angry before.

I gave up five years of my life for him. I could’ve talked. But I kept quiet.

Five long fucking years. The days, the months, the years had slipped away. He’d waited, but no new trials had come, thanks to Lauren and that fucking judge. Jon had even tried to use Lynch, tried to force new evidence down the judge’s throat.

It hadn’t worked.

Escape had been his only option. An escape that had taken too fucking long.

Lauren Chandler is a dead woman.

He wouldn’t serve time for anyone. Wouldn’t let anyone ever push him around again. He was strong. He was power.

Everyone else was prey.

The man before him had been the one to change Jon’s life. Only he hadn’t been a man when they’d met.

Just a kid…like me.

So incredibly like me.

They’d grown together, learned together, killed together.

There were some bonds that just couldn’t be broken. “I’ve missed you,” Jon confessed.

Silence.

Jon wet his lips. Had saying that been a mistake? Shit, he didn’t want to screw this up.

“I think it’s time for us to enjoy some good old times again.”

Yes.

“We’ll make them pay for locking you away. We’ll make them all pay.” A pause, then, “Tell you what, Jonny…”

Only his partner called him Jonny, a leftover from their days as kids.

“This time, you handle the kill, and I’ll watch.”

Jon’s lips stretched wide. This was it. His turn to show just what he could do.

All he needed was a victim.

“Anthony!” The cry was weak, thready, and it immediately sent him rushing into the bathroom.

He shoved open the door, and it bounced into the wall. “Lauren!”

She had one hand pressed against the tile of the shower, while the other clutched a towel that looked like it was about to drop at any moment.

“Dizzy…” she whispered.

Shit. He was at her side in two steps. He lifted her into his arms. She was still clutching the towel. Screw that thing. He tightened his hold around her and rushed toward the bed.

“I’m calling Dr. Davis.” He’d been afraid the shower was a bad idea, but he’d also known she needed the blood off her. He’d wanted to make her happy.

Carefully, he bent and lowered her onto the bed. Her stitches looked dry, but she was so pale. “Did you hit your head?” He stared into her eyes. Her pupils looked normal but—

“Don’t call the doctor,” she said softly. “I just overdid it a bit.” She swallowed. “I should have gotten you to help me sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Her lashes lowered, even as a ghost of a smile lifted her lips. “Because I was naked, and usually when one of us is naked around the other, help isn’t what happens.”

His heart slammed into his chest. “You’re hurt. I could have controlled myself.” Was that what she believed? That he’d only think of himself when she was hurt?

Yes, he wanted her twenty-four-fucking-seven, but he’d rein in that need. For her.

He was realizing he’d do just about anything for her.

“I wasn’t worried about your control.” Her lashes lifted. The blue of her eyes was still too dulled. He wanted the spark—the life—back. “I was worried about my own.”

They’d lost the towel during the trip back to the bed. With fingers that weren’t nearly as steady as Anthony would have liked, he grabbed for the covers and pulled them over her body.

A body that haunted his dreams. “You…” He cleared his throat. “You made it clear you didn’t want anything happening between us.”

Crystal clear.

“Maybe I was lying.” Her voice was soft. Not slurred, or he’d have gotten the doc on the phone.

Lying? That whispered confession drove right through him. Anthony eased into the bed beside her. He slid his arm under her head and pulled her against him. She still fit him so perfectly. Better than anyone else ever had.

Because no one else seemed made for him. “I lie sometimes, too,” he confessed.

“Tell me your lies.”

She was awake, talking, in his arms. He’d tell her anything. “Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

He felt her start of surprise.

“Then why go?” Lauren asked.

A hard question. He’d been scared. He’d needed her too much. He’d worried she needed what he couldn’t give her. Instead of saying all that, he figured he should go back. Start at the beginning. His nightmare. “You never asked me about my family.”

Her head pressed down onto his shoulder. “Not a lot of time for family talk during all the sex fests.”

They’d been some pretty awesome sex fests. As soon as she was better, he’d be on her again.

His cock was swollen and hard right then with need for her, but he was holding back. He’d be what she needed tonight.

“When my parents were happy, when they were getting along, you could almost see the love between them. It was so strong.” During those times, things had been good. Close to perfect. “But when they weren’t happy…” Those times when his dad’s anger had burst free… “I didn’t think anything could be closer to hell.”

He’d been wrong about that, though. When Lauren had vanished, he’d been given a fast trip to hell.

“My dad would get jealous. If my mom talked to another guy, if she was even five minutes late arriving home, he’d swear she was cheating on him.”

Lauren was silent in his arms.

“She was his obsession.” That was what it had been. He realized it now. It wasn’t love. It was an obsession.

“This story doesn’t end well, does it?” she whispered.

Stories like his never did. “I don’t know if she’d been cheating on him all along—if his worries were real—or if the jealousy actually drove her to another man.” He’d been thirteen at the time, and too grief stricken to focus on the whys. “But when my father found out she was going to leave him, he snapped.”

Lauren was silent. Her breath came in fast puffs that hit lightly over his skin.

“He wasn’t going to let her go. If he couldn’t have her, no one else would.”

He’d walked home from school and found a bloodbath. His mother, dead. A shotgun blast to the chest. After he’d killed her, his father had put the shotgun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.

“I’m so sorry, Anthony.”

He wasn’t telling the story for pity.

“My mom loved me,” he said with painful pride. His father might have been a twisted SOB, but his mother had always cared about him. Always. “When the police searched her car, they found bags packed. One for her. One for me.” She’d planned to get them both away.

Only the police believed that his father had come home and found her packing.

“He couldn’t let her go, and in the end, he wound up being the most dangerous thing in her life.” It hadn’t started that way, though. He’d seen the wedding pictures. Seen the happy smiles. He did remember them being happy. There had been fun birthday parties, family dinners at Christmas.

But obsessions could twist over time. Become so very deadly.

“I’m sorry you found them.” Her voice was low. Hesitant. “No child should ever see that.”

There were plenty of things children should never see. “You asked me why I left you.” He realized his fingers were making light circles on her palm. He couldn’t stop. With her, that had always been his problem. Can’t stop. Need too much. “I wanted you, so damn badly, all the time.”

Her palm was soft and still beneath his fingers.

“I wanted you to myself. I wanted you away from any other man out there.” To be truthful, he still did. But his control was better now than five years ago. “You were becoming my obsession, and I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stay here and turn out like him.”

She straightened quickly, nearly clipping him in the chin with her head. She turned to stare at him. “That’s crazy! You aren’t your father!”

“I want you with the same consuming need that he felt for her. The way I feel about you—it’s not easy and light. It’s dark and dangerous.” Consuming.

“Just because you want someone badly,” she said, her voice husky, “doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“If I’d had my way, I would have been in you every minute of the day.”

Her eyes widened.

“My emotions with you are too strong. Call bullshit if you want”—though it wasn’t—“but I wouldn’t risk you.”

“So you left me.”

He’d left, but had been helplessly drawn back. “It was supposed to just be sex between us, right? You didn’t sign on for an obsession. We were fire behind closed doors, ice in public. I was starting to rage out of control, and you were trying to keep a wall between us.”