Beware of Me (Dark Obsession 4)

&nbs

p; Victor tapped his fingers on the table. They were in an interview room, courtesy of the local FBI. Victor had been called in on the Barclay/Shay case at the last minute. He really had more than enough shit to deal with at the moment. But when the Barclay case had tied in with one of his recent investigations, strings had been pulled. Victor had been reassigned.

And he’d found himself in New York, temporarily taking over a space at their FBI office. Even though his mind was somewhere else, on someone else.

Zoe.

But for the time being, he had to focus on this shit. As twisted as it all was. “A woman was attacked after leaving her session with you, doctor. In light of that situation, I’m sure you understand why you were called in.”

Behind the lenses of his glasses, the doctor’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told me how Carly is doing.”

There was such familiarity in the guy’s voice when he talked about Carly Shay. Was their relationship professional? Personal? Both? He’d certainly not pegged Ethan Barclay for the sharing type.

“Ms. Shay was taken home by her friend.” Deliberately, he paused. “Perhaps you know him? Ethan. Ethan Barclay?”

He saw the doctor’s eyelids flicker. Had fear stolen across the man’s face? For an instant, Victor thought that it had.

“He’s about my height, maybe two hundred pounds. Dark hair.” The doctor tensed more with every word. “Got some scars on his cheeks. Rather dangerous looking fellow.”

Dr. Nelson licked his lips. “Is Carly okay?”

“Her injuries weren’t severe,” Victor said. “She was very lucky. Unfortunately, her attacker is still on the loose.” And that pissed him off. He didn’t like it when women were hurt—one of his hot button issues. The attacker’s van had been found, ditched in another parking garage, but there had been no sign of the perp. Since he thought the guy was a professional, Victor was betting the van would wind up being a stolen vehicle, and he doubted any prints would be recovered.

“You’ll catch him, won’t you?” Dr. Nelson asked. He’d leaned forward in his chair.

“The local authorities are working on apprehending him.” Victor always had to be careful when he moved in—the cops could be real territorial. The last thing he wanted was a pissing match that wound up hurting everyone. But he also wanted to find that perp and toss his ass in a cage. “But if you have information…if you know who might be threatening Ms. Shay, that intel could certainly prove useful. I understand that she’s your patient and you have—”

“Not anymore.” The response seemed to snap out from the shrink.

Victor lifted his brows. “Excuse me?”

“She terminated our sessions. A mistake. But she wouldn’t listen.” He gave a curt nod. “Tonight was our last meeting. I-I can’t discuss her case, but she isn’t my client any longer.”

Interesting. Had Ethan Barclay been involved in that decision? Was he the reason Carly terminated her sessions? “Ethan was never your client.”

A sharp shake of Nelson’s head. “Don’t really know him.” His lips thinned. “Just saw him holding Carly before her appointment. She should know it’s a mistake for her to get involved in a relationship with someone like him after what—” His eyes widened. He stopped. “I’m not talking to you any longer. It’s late. My mind isn’t working properly, and I will not violate privilege this way.”

Why was Carly Shay seeing this shrink? Why did the guy think it was so bad for her to have a relationship? A cold knot formed in Victor’s stomach as he began to piece together the past. Quincy Atkins had enjoyed hurting women. A few women had even mysteriously left D.C. after being spotted with him.

Left…or been killed?

Quincy hadn’t been the only one to vanish. Victor knew because he’d poured over every file and every bit of data he could possibly find on the guy. The D.C. police had suspected that Quincy might be tied to the disappearance of a few girls who’d danced at his club.

The three women who’d vanished had been young. Runaways who’d grown up on the streets. According to the files he’d read, they’d all last been seen at one of Quincy’s clubs. Friends had reported them missing. The D.C. cops had suspected Quincy but…

But nothing happened.

Then a few weeks later, according to those files, Quincy had disappeared.

Victor’s fingers stopped drumming on the table. “You don’t like Ethan Barclay, do you?”

“I don’t know him.” Dr. Nelson stood. “I have to go—”

“He’s suspected of being one of the most influential crime bosses on the East Coast. The FBI has been trying to bust him for years, but he always gets away, scot-free.”

Dr. Nelson paled.

“You treated plenty of criminals before, didn’t you, doctor? You were on staff at Falling Waters State Hospital, a facility for the criminally insane, right after you got your license, correct?”

“I did my internship there.” Dr. Nelson’s response was hesitant. “Then I stayed on for a…a bit. It was important to understand the workings of…of a disturbed mind.”

Disturbed. Interesting word choice. “You worked with sociopaths. Psychopaths. You—”

“Not all psychopaths or sociopaths are a threat to society.” Now. Dr. Nelson had straightened his shoulders. “Many are perfectly functioning, normal people. Perhaps psychopaths don’t feel what you think of as ‘normal’ emotional connections, but they are intelligent. Highly so. They’re assertive, ruthless, determined. They can make for great CEOs or—”

“Doctors,” Victor murmured when the other man broke off. “I’ve heard they make for great doctors.”

Dr. Nelson cleared his throat. “A lack of empathy could be beneficial to a certain extent, say for a trauma surgeon who has to divorce himself from the emotions of the job in order to save a patient.”

Victor smiled at him. “You went to med school. Did you ever have to divorce yourself from emotions?”

Dr. Nelson pushed his glasses up once more. “I’m not a threat here. I certainly didn’t attack Carly!” He marched for the door. “We’re done. If you have any other questions for me, then contact my attorney.”

The door slammed after him, and Victor’s smile slowly faded away.

Chapter Five

The bedroom door creaked open. The faintest pad of footsteps reached his ears. Ethan was lying on the couch, in pretty much one of the most uncomfortable positions he’d ever known, and when he heard Carly’s approach, he immediately shot off the cushions and to his feet. “What’s happening?” Ethan demanded as he closed in on her. He’d shut off the lights in the den, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he could make out her form. “What’s wrong?”

Before he reached her, Carly reached out and turned on a nearby lamp. A soft pool of light filled the area, and he saw that she was wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts, shorts that exposed the wonderful, long expanse of her legs.

His cock surged at the sight of her. Down, boy. Down fucking now.

“The couch isn’t comfortable for you. You’re probably nearly twice its size.”

“I’ve been on worse.” Once upon a time, he’d even slept on the streets. Not a memory that he particularly enjoyed, but shit like that had made him into the man he was.

“I have plenty of room in my bed.”

He shook his head, an instinctive move because she could not have just said that to him. No way. But his twitching cock was saying that, hell, yes, she’d just invited him to climb in bed with her. “Bad idea.” Very, very bad.

“Why?”

What? Seriously? “Because if I get in that bed, I’ll want to fuck you.” And after the hell she’d been through already, the last thing she probably wanted was him pouncing on her like a starving man.

I’ve been desperate for her for years.

Her hand lifted and she—she touched his chest. He’d stripped off his shirt but kept on his jeans while trying to get comfortable on the couch. Now her fingers were lightly tracing his sc

ars, and his whole body tensed at her touch.

His hand flew up and his fingers locked around her wrist. “You don’t want to do that.”

She looked up at him, her lashes slowly rising. “I do. I thought about this in my room. Thought about you because I couldn’t sleep, and I realized—I do want this. I want you.”

“Carly—”

“The truth is that I’d like to do all kinds of things…with you.”

His eyes closed. “Ten seconds. I can give you ten seconds to get back in that room.” Before his good intentions flew to hell. It wasn’t as if he were used to good intentions, anyway, and for her to admit that she wanted him that way…too much. His control started to shred. A woman like her—she needed control. She needed care. She needed a fucking prince charming.

She was about to get the devil himself.

“I’ve had other lovers. I didn’t—I didn’t lock myself away because of what happened.”

His gaze lifted to hold hers.

“I wasn’t going to let Quincy take away my life.” She licked her lower lip, a quick swipe of her tongue. “But it wasn’t easy. Actually, it was so hard that I thought it would destroy me—just making love. Just letting down my guard enough for someone else to get close.”

She was destroying him right then. One word, one breath, at a time.

“I never wanted anyone else, though,” Carly continued, voice husky, “not the way I want you, Ethan. You make me ache from just a touch while other men…I still flinch away from them. I have to school myself. I have to fight my fears with them. But with you, there isn’t anything to fight. There’s just this need I have. Maybe it’s because I knew you before. Maybe it’s because you were there…then. Because you know everything and I don’t have to pretend.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “Or maybe the why just doesn’t matter at all. Maybe I just want you, and you—I know you want me, too.”

His thumb was caressing her inner wrist.

“I’m not asking for some kind of promise here.” She inched closer to him. “I’m talking about one night. Me and you. I want you…you want me. Why not see what it would be like?” Her laughter was bitter. “Or maybe I’ll stop you in the middle of the whole damn thing. I’ve done that before. When he gets in my mind.”