Rachel frowned. She’d charged the phone earlier. It should be fine. Damn it. She needed to contact Dylan, but she didn’t have a landline, just her cell.
The floor creaked behind her.
Rachel froze.
She knew every inch of her apartment and just where to step for those familiar creaks and squeaks to sound. Because she knew the place so well, Rachel realized that someone was standing five feet behind her. Right inside the doorway.
The lights flashed off in her bedroom.
She didn’t waste time screaming. Rachel turned and went in for the attack.
Chapter Eleven
Dylan Foxx knew that he shouldn’t be hanging around Rachel’s place.
He was starting to hit stalker territory.
He’d dropped her off thirty minutes ago. He’d left...but come back.
He’d learned about the profile that Agent Evers was working up—she thought the rogue was attacking couples. Eliminating the woman first then going after her lover.
That profile had made him worried.
He and Rachel weren’t lovers, but...
...but I wish we were.
He’d wanted Rachel for years. Keeping his distance from her was impossible for him. He knew that he was too protective of her, that he got too close whenever she was near.
What if someone else had noticed that closeness, too?
What if the desire he felt for her caused Rachel to be put in danger?
His growing fear had driven him back to her place. It had made him lurk in the shadows of her apartment because he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
He looked down at his phone. Maybe he should give her a call, just in case.
Then he heard the sound of footsteps coming quickly toward him.
He glanced up. The moonlight showed him the face of the man approaching—a familiar face.
Thomas Anthony.
In an instant, Dylan had grabbed the other man, jerking him to a stop. “What the hell are you doing here?” Dylan demanded.
He had his gun at the other man’s throat.
Thomas stilled. “Easy...”
“Don’t ‘easy’ me,” Dylan snarled right back. Easy was the last thing he felt. “Why the hell are you coming out of Rachel’s building at this damn time?”
The streetlight fell on Thomas’s face. “That’s why,” he murmured. “I know how you feel, and I thought the killer might, too. I came to warn her.”
Dylan thought he might be looking at the killer. Keeping his gun in place, he yanked up his phone with his left hand. He pressed the screen, instantly calling for Rachel.
“You’re not going to get her,” Thomas told him. “Her phone isn’t working.”
Rachel wasn’t picking up.