Secret Admirer

Some of the tension slipped from her shoulders. She tipped her head back so that she could stare up at him. Alice was close to five-foot-eight, but he skirted six-foot-three. And she was too damn thin. Every time he came to the cabin, he found himself picking up pastries for her. Today, he’d brought three cupcakes. She’d given him a smile as a thank you.

Smile number three.

“Everyone else always pries.” Her lashes lowered to shield her gaze. “I don’t look…familiar to you?”

“Um, I’ve seen you off and on for the last two months. You definitely look familiar.”

She gave a short, negative shake of her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

He waited. Come on, Alice. Make this important move. Do it. Trust me.

Even though he was lying to her. Using her.

She nodded, then her lashes lifted. “Do you remember the Secret Admirer?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Wasn’t that the guy from Savannah? The one who killed those women?”

A flinch had her whole body jerking. “Yes.”

Hard to forget a freak show like that guy. “What about him?”

Her spine straightened. Her chin lifted. “He was my fiancé.”

Zander let surprise cover his face.

“The woman in the white wedding dress? The woman who was splashed all across the news and in all the papers? The fool who didn’t know her fiancé was a killer?” A smile covered her lips—smile four—only this smile wasn’t like the others. This smile was almost painful to see. “That woman was me.”

He gave a low whistle. “So when you say you had a bad experience…”

“I mean it.” Her smile was gone. “You don’t want to date me. You don’t want my baggage. You don’t want to wake up one day and find reporters camped out on your doorstep because someone in the area realized who I was and tipped them off.”

Shit. Alice was trying to protect him?

“You are handsome. And you’re kind. And you’ve been an absolute lifesaver to me.” Her hand gestured vaguely toward the small cabin that waited behind her. “I swear, every single day, something new is falling apart in this place.”

Yes, it was. Because of the FBI.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have running water, a front door that opened, a refrigerator that worked, electricity that—”

“It’s just my job,” Zander cut in. The FBI had been sabotaging things left and right, so that she’d have to call Zander. And right then, he felt like a total jerk.

Her gaze softened on him. “You’re a nice man.”

The hell he was. He was ruthless. He was determined. He was a bit of an adrenaline junkie. But no matter what else might be said about him, Zander always got the job done. Zander wasn’t the type to hesitate, hell, just ask any of his old Ranger buddies. He was many things, but not nice. No one had ever called him nice. That title was damn insulting.

“You don’t deserve to be dragged down into my trouble.” She turned away.

His hand flew out. This time, his fingers reached for her. He caught her wrist, and his hand encircled it. Zander pulled her back toward him, and their bodies almost brushed.

Her gaze flew up to his. “What are you doing?”

He shouldn’t have touched her. And he absolutely shouldn’t be running his thumb along her inner wrist in a soft, sensual caress. Swallowing, Zander let her go as he stepped back. “I like trouble.” That was one of the most truthful things he’d ever said to her.

Her lips parted. “You…do?”

“And you’re too young to lock yourself away because you had the misfortune to be taken in by some twisted freak.”

Her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“I’m not a killer. Hell, if you want them, I can give you references. Can even let you talk to my fourth grade teacher. She’ll vouch for me.” He paused, then added, “You can trust me.” Shit, he almost choked on those words.

“Trust isn’t exactly easy for me.”

Alice loved her understatements. It was kind of cute.

“One dinner,” Zander offered. “That’s what I’m asking for. Let me show you that it’s okay to live your life again.”

“H-how do you know I haven’t been living?”

Hell—fix that blunder. “When I come out here, you never have friends or family over. You don’t even have a dog. You’re a beautiful woman, and you’re hiding yourself in the mountains. You’re hiding from the world. Don’t have to be a shrink to realize that.” He waited a beat and decided to push more, using info that one of the FBI shrinks had passed along to him. “You’re letting him win, Alice. Don’t you see that? If you give up your life, isn’t it like he killed you, too?”

She held his stare.

Had he pushed too far? Too fast? Dammit. What should he do next? How to play this, how to—

“Hugh didn’t take my life. But sometimes, it sure feels like he did.” She exhaled. “Okay, fine, if my scary past didn’t run you off…if you really think you want to date me—I mean, have dinner—then…let’s do it.”

Hell, yes.

“But…can we have dinner here instead of going out? I’m a really good cook. And I—I don’t exactly like being in crowds.”

Probably because she was afraid someone would recognize her.

“It’s one of the reasons I work from home,” she murmured. “I like…quiet. Space.”

He knew she worked as a freelance designer. She spent her time creating ad pieces for corporations. And staying out of the limelight.

“I stocked up at the grocery store yesterday,” Alice continued. “So I’ve got plenty of food.”

Right. She’d been on the trip to the store when her sprinkler had been sabotaged.

“I have steaks.” Her words came quickly. “And salad.”

He gave her his winning smile. “I have wine.”

She didn’t smile back, but her eyes seemed to gleam a little more. “Then how about you come back tonight at seven?”

“It’s a date.” He gave her a little bow, and then he headed for his truck. Zander waited until he was a good distance away from her cabin, then he called his partner. The line rang once, twice—

“Hey, Z. Tell me you made some progress with the target.”

Randall Cane’s voice filled the interior of the truck as it carried through the Bluetooth system. “I made progress.” So why was his gut knotted? “We’re having dinner in her cabin tonight.”

“Hell, yes. Finally. If anyone could get that woman to lower her guard, I knew it would be you!” Satisfaction deepened Randall’s voice.

“It’s just dinner,” Zander muttered. “Not like she’s going to spill every secret she has to me.”

“She’d sure as hell better. That’s the point of this whole operation. For you to build trust with the target. For her to feel as if she can confide in you. For you to figure out if Alice May is a cold-blooded killer, just like her former lover.”

His hands tightened on the wheel, an instinctive reaction. “She doesn’t seem the type.”

“Yeah, well, don’t forget, we found those photos of the vics in her apartment.”

They had. Black and white photos of the victims had been hidden beneath a floorboard in Alice’s closet. She’d claimed never to have seen those photos before. Told authorities that Hugh must have kept them hidden there without her knowledge.

Her fingerprints hadn’t been on them. There had been no physical evidence to tie Alice to the murders. There had just been unanswered questions. A whole lot of them…

Why were the photos in her closet?

Why was Alice allowed to live—when she looked exactly like the Secret Admirer’s other victims?

Why had the killings all started after Hugh Collins met Alice May?

And even though Hugh Collins was in a cemetery, the Secret Admirer had claimed a new victim two months ago. Julianna Stiles. A woman who appeared eerily similar in appearance to Alice…a woman who’d been found w

ith a knife stabbed in her heart, and rose petals sprinkled around her body. The Secret Admirer’s MO. But the Press hadn’t gotten wind of the story, not yet. The FBI was trying to keep the murder under wraps. Trying to see if Alice could be tied to that crime…

Trying to see…if Alice had been her lover’s partner all along.

Sure, the FBI could be dealing with a copycat. That was one option, but the FBI brass had long suspected that Hugh Collins hadn’t worked alone when he’d committed his crimes. And the higher-ups at the Bureau suspected his secret partner was none other than the lovely Alice May.

“If she isn’t Julianna’s killer,” Randall continued, “then she has to know who the fuck is. No one was closer to Hugh than she was. The killer’s identity is in her head, even if she doesn’t realize it.”

“I’ll let you know what I find out. I’m heading back to her place at seven.”

Silence. Randall wasn’t often the silent type. When he went quiet, it meant he was worried.

“You got something you want to add?” Zander pressed.

“Don’t get fooled by a pretty face.” Randall’s voice had turned brisk. “You know pretty faces can hide sadistic killers. You’re the one playing her, not the other way around. Don’t forget that shit.”

Zander didn’t intend to let himself get played.

“She’s a job,” Randall continued flatly. “Nothing more. Bust her—or find out who the hell was working with her lover. Do whatever it takes, but get the job done.”

“I always do.”