“Ms. Shepard, I’m Officer Dennehy. Detective Willis asked me to keep an eye on your apartment. I just wanted you to know that me and my partner will be right outside the building if you need us.”
She nodded. “I just got home,” she said brokenly.
“We know, ma’am. Please keep your door locked and you’ll need to call Detective Willis. We’ve already let him know you’re here.”
She nodded again. “Thank you.”
Aidan remained silent while Darby did as the officer instructed. She closed and locked the door, then made the call to Willis.
This was an unforeseen complication. Center would need to be made aware before the news hit the general public. O’Riley did not like being blindsided. The killer’s escape guaranteed more media coverage and increased the likelihood of Galen’s discovering Eve’s existence.
He’d watched her all morning, had noted the covert meeting with the woman in the alley. Her warning had been whispered, but even whispered and from a half a block away—if he focused—his auditory senses picked up enough of the conversation to piece together the threat.
Men in white coats.
Aidan had an uneasy feeling that meant only one thing—Center. It was the first indication he’d had that Darby remembered anything, but that in itself was not enough to form an accurate conclusion. He needed more intel.
She moved to the French doors and stared toward the courtyard. Her inner turmoil reached out to him. She felt frightened on one level but furious on another. Oddly, he didn’t think the escaped killer worried her as much as the warning the woman in the alley had issued.
He supposed the danger she knew and understood felt far less threatening than the one she didn’t.
He admired her beauty once more as the sun kissed her cheek, brought out the gold highlights in her long brown hair. Even dressed in a conservative jumper that fell just shy of her ankles, she appealed to him on a physical level. The slit in the jumper had revealed a satiny length of thigh with each step she’d taken as she’d walked this morning. A simple white blouse, sleeveless and scoop-necked, hugged her upper torso beneath the pale green jumper. The delicate sandals on her feet looked immensely feminine, but it was the pink toenails that disturbed him the most.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly as he approached her.
She trusted him; he’d felt her responding to him from the beginning. Last night had proven his assessment. He thought of the way his mind had so easily touched hers. He could taste her even now. He thought again of the way her skin smelled…the softness of it. He wanted to touch her now…not like last night. For real this time.
Not yet…it was too soon.
She’d been brought up amid humans who reveled in fantasy but faltered in reality. She could, in effect, enjoy the fantasy without fear of repercussion. And yet she had no idea just how real this fantasy was.
“I’m okay.”
He moved closer still. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised, knowing an explanation would be in order. But it was time he moved this operation to the next level.
That gaze, the color of glittering sand after the tide rolled back from the shore, collided with his. “Thank you for offering, but I couldn’t drag you into this.”
He couldn’t resist. He had to touch her. He reached up slowly, so as not to frighten her, and pushed aside a lock of silky hair from her cheek.
“I’m already a part of it.”
Confusion claimed her expression. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
He took her small hand in his, closed his fingers around its softness. The energy that hummed between them pumped up a notch. She felt it; her pulse reacted. Her heart began to pound.
“I’m with the FBI,” he explained, laying out the cover Center had provided. “I was sent here because the Bureau suspected Lester might be connected to older unsolved cases from other states. I’ve been monitoring the local investigation and we now know Lester’s case is not related.”
She moved her head from side to side in denial. “Are you saying you moved in next door to me on purpose? That you’ve been watching me?”
He hesitated a moment, hoping to lessen the impact of the single word, but it wasn’t going to work. “Yes.”
She drew her hand from his and turned away, but not before he saw the wetness shining in her eyes.
“But,” he reached for her again, his fingers closing over her arm and pulling her gently back around to face him, “my job has nothing to do with this other connection between us.”
She refused to look directly at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” she countered angrily. “What other connection?”
“This one.” He drew her nearer and then he kissed her. It was what he wanted to do…what he needed to do.
She resisted at first but when his fingers threaded into her hair and pulled her closer still, she relented. Her mouth softened under his, her lips parted in invitation. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, wanting more, until every cell in his body detonated with need. She melted against him. Whimpered softly. He kissed her harder, allowing the rush of sensations to take control for just a few seconds.
He pulled back, his respiration uneven as if he’d run for miles. He licked his lips, loving the taste of her.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he murmured. “Trust me.”
And she did.
She didn’t have to say the words. He read her surrender in her eyes…felt it in the beat of her heart.
They were fully connected.
Again.
Chapter Seven
Château Garden Apartments
New Orleans
He stood in the darkest shadows of the courtyard. She was there…on the third floor. The French doors of her balcony overlooked this very courtyard.
Security was a joke. The police officers staking out her apartment were obviously asleep on the job. He’d gotten in
