Beware of Me (Dark Obsession 4)

Okay, now what?

“Ms. Shay, I need a moment of your time.”

The guy had better not be some kind of salesman. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice apologetic, “but I’ve had a really long day and—”

“Your wounds have probably sapped your strength,” he cut in, nodding. “No doubt, you just want to go inside and collapse after your first day back on the job.”

Goosebumps rose on her arms.

“But I can’t let you collapse just yet.” His smile hardened a bit. “Like I said, I need a moment of your time.”

She backed up a step. And suddenly, the idea that Ethan might be trailing her—that idea wasn’t so scary. The devil you know…

Is far better than the one you don’t.

“Who are you?” Carly asked him, notching up her chin.

He pulled a wallet out of his pocket. No, not a wallet—ID. Real official looking ID. “I’m with the FBI, ma’am. My name is Special Agent Victor Monroe, and I need to talk with you about Quincy Atkins.”

No, no, no. Her heart stopped beating. She stared up at the special agent and actually felt her world start to collapse around her. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t know what she’d done. Could he?

Victor Monroe’s head tilted to the right. “Are you okay, Ms. Shay? You’ve gone quite pale.”

“I-I’m still recovering, like you said.” She put her hand to her temple. “And it’s warm today. I-I need to get inside and cool down. Our talk will have to wait…”

But when she tried to step around him, the FBI agent—Victor—moved into her path. “It can’t wait.” Suspicion had sharpened his gaze. “Can’t help but notice…you don’t act at all surprised to hear that a federal agent wants to question you about a missing crime lord.”

Her heart was racing now—seeming to shake her chest. And her mouth had gone bone-dry.

“Do you know where Quincy Atkins is, Ms. Shay?”

Hell. That was exactly where she suspected he was. But she wasn’t about to tell the FBI special agent that fact. “How would I know? I think I saw some special on 20/20 about him. The man’s been missing for years.”

His hand reached out and curled around her shoulder. At that touch, Carly flinched. It was her normal reaction to being touched. Only…I didn’t flinch when Ethan touched me. She’d figure out that messed up thought later, but for the moment… “I want you to take your hand off me.” Her voice was cool. “I don’t know anything about Quincy Atkins and his disappearance, so I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Victor’s jaw hardened as his hand immediately dropped. “I’m here to help you.”

“I doubt that.” Carly wondered how he’d even learned about her…and her connection to Quincy. Someone had tipped off the FBI, obviously, but just who was that someone? She marched briskly for her building.

“I have reason to believe that you may be connected to Quincy’s disappearance.” The agent was shadowing her steps. Making her way too nervous. “And if I have reason to believe that…” He sighed. “Then others will believe it, too. You may find yourself…hunted.”

At that one word, hunted, Carly turned to face him. “Are you trying to frighten me?” She thought he was.

He didn’t deny her accusation. Instead, Victor said, “When you were seventeen years old, you were put in a psych ward for three weeks. That was two weeks after Quincy Atkins vanished. That timeline is interesting, don’t you think? Especially since I know you worked as a dancer at Quincy’s club, and word from some of the people who knew him back then, well, they said Quincy took a special interest in you.”

“A special interest,” she repeated, disgust sharp in her voice, “in a seventeen year old girl.”

He stepped even closer to her. She didn’t like it. Fear rose within her. Because this agent—he could destroy her life. She knew it. He was staring at her with speculation in his eyes, and the guy could probably smell the blood trail that led straight to her.

“I can be an enemy,” Victor told her. “Or I can be a friend. It all depends on you.”

She shook her head. “What are you asking? For me to make some kind of deal with you?”

“You don’t strike me as the killing type,” Victor told her.

Then you don’t know me very well.

“But if you know who did kill Quincy Atkins, if you know what happened…your life could be in danger. I can help you. The FBI can protect you. We can—”

“You can move the hell away from her, asshole.”

Carly’s breath heaved out at that low, deadly command. A command that had come from Ethan. Her gaze shot to the left, and he was there, glaring at the FBI agent and his golden gaze seemed to burn with fury.

Two things were clear to her in that moment. One, Ethan had kept following her. So that meant he’d probably been close and overheard her whole conversation with the FBI guy.

And two, the FBI agent—he didn’t look surprised at all to see Ethan standing a few feet away. In fact, Victor turned to look at Ethan and said, “And the predators are already closing in…See, Ms. Shay, I told you that you’d be hunted.”

Ethan smiled, a chilling sight. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of a formal introduction, and I don’t really fucking want one. What I want is for you to step away from my fiancée.”

His what now?

“And I want you to go back to whatever government hole you crawled out of. Carly doesn’t concern you, and you need to stay away from her.”

She could practically feel the tension rolling off the agent. His gaze cut to her, and the smile he gave her was obviously forced. “You’re going to need a friend soon.” Victor handed her a card and forced her fingers to curl around it. “When you realize just how much danger you’re in, call me.” Then he leaned in toward her and said, “Because the last thing that you want to do…that’s trust him. Ethan Barclay is a threat to you, and if you’re as smart as I’ve been led to believe, you’ll realize that. And you’ll come to me as fast as you can.”

“She doesn’t like it when strangers touch her.” Ethan was just a step away now. “So either get your hand off her, or I will be removing it.”

The agent’s hand slid away from hers. He nodded to Carly and said, “I hope I hear from you soon.” Then he was gone. Heading down the street with a confident, determined stride.

She still held his card in her hand. And Ethan— “Fiancée?” she murmured.

“It sounded good to me.”

It sounded terrifying to her.

“Let’s go inside, baby,” he told her gruffly. “Because we have seriously got to talk.”

The last thing you want to do…that’s trust him.

Oh, hell.

***

She was afraid of him. Not surprising, really. Ethan knew that most people were afraid of him, and with good reason. He didn’t make for a good enemy. In fact, becoming his enemy was usually a fatal mistake.

Carly’s hands were shaking as she shut her door and secured the lock. He was inside, she’d let him in without another argument, and his gaze slid around her home. It was odd. He knew Carly had been living there for about six months, but there weren’t a lot of personal touches in the place. It still had that “decorator” look, as if Carly didn’t want to change anything that had been there before.

Carly had once loved bright colors. Bold art. She’d laughed freely and danced—

He cut off that thought. Hard. Because he’d once seen her dance when he should not have seen that show. When no one should have seen it.

“The FBI knows that I—”

He lunged toward her and in one, fast move, he had his hand over her mouth. Her soft lips pressed against his palm even as her blue eyes flared wide with fear. I hate for her to fear me. Fear was good, as long as that fear came from anyone but her. Ethan brought his mouth close to her right ear and whispered, “The FBI was waiting outside of your building. I don’t trust those guys.” Not when he knew how badly they wanted

to nail his ass to the wall. “There could be a listening device in here.” The whole place could be wired. So the last thing he wanted her to do…“No confessions, baby,” Ethan ordered, his voice a bare breath of sound.

She gave a slow nod.

His hand fell from her lips. Her scent—sweet and sexy and all Carly—wrapped around him. He knew he should step back, but he didn’t. He kept her pinned there, trapped between his body and the door, and Ethan thought about all the mistakes he’d made in his life.

The biggest one? Letting her go.

I won’t do that again.

“You should pack a bag and come with me. I have a suite in town. We can talk there.” Talk, fuck, whatever she wanted.

She wasn’t seventeen anymore.

Two consenting adults—and he’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted her.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Carly said.

Pity. But he hadn’t expected things with her to be easy. He had a whole lot of ground to make up.

“That agent—Victor—he just said I was being hunted—why? Why would anyone want to hunt me? How does anyone even know about my connection to Quincy?”

She wasn’t getting the whole listening device bit. Sighing, Ethan caught her wrist in his hand and he said, “Come with me.”

Then he pulled her down the hallway and opened the door on the right. He headed into her bathroom and shut the door behind them.

“What are you doing?” Now her voice had cracked a bit. “Why are we in the bathroom? How did you even know this was my bathroom?”

Because I own the building. I also own the company you work for, baby. But he didn’t tell her that, not yet.

He was coming across stalkerish enough without that big reveal.

“You’d better not start stripping,” Carly told him, voice sharp. “’Cause I don’t know what you think is happening here, but—”

He put a finger over her lips. She blinked up at him.

Sadly, no stripping will happen.

When she fell into silence, he reached for the faucet. He cranked the water on and let it run full-blast into the shower. For a moment, he stared at that rushing water. Oh, but he could imagine stripping and being naked in that shower with Carly. The water would pour over her skin and he’d lick every single inch of her.

“Ethan! Seriously, what the hell are you doing?”