She closed in on Anthony. “We need to talk.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Later, ma’am.” His native Georgia drawl rolled lightly beneath his words. “Right now, I have a killer to hunt.”
She grabbed his arm. Held tight. “A killer who was in my house. A killer who murdered my friend.” Karen, I am so sorry. Each time she thought of Karen, it felt as if someone were clawing open her chest. “You aren’t shutting me out, understand, Ross? I’m working this with you. I am going to make sure this city doesn’t fall back into the Bayou Butcher madness it faced before.” When fear had held them all captive.
Fear of the dark.
Fear of the monster who waited in the dark.
Jon Walker had made children—and even adults—fear the boogeyman once more. Because he truly was that monster.
“I tracked him before,” Anthony said quietly. No emotion entered his voice or his gaze. “And I can do it again.”
Unspoken, but the words were still there, hanging between them.
She wouldn’t back down. “My office will give you any support you need. We will work together on this.” She knew the reporters were probably already swarming outside. Paul had been right on that score—a story about her, about the Bayou Butcher—hell, yes, they were talking a front-page spread.
Anthony bent toward her. His scent—rich, masculine—surrounded her. His mouth was close to her ear when he whispered. “Haven’t you already come close enough to death?”
She turned her head. Met his stare. “Haven’t you?” Because she knew the risks he took, day in and day out.
Even when he’d left her, she’d followed his career. Anthony’s cases were the darkest she’d ever encountered. Brutal killers. Sadistic criminals.
“Not close enough,” he told her softly. “Not yet.” His green gaze heated as it swept over her. “I missed you.”
Then he was gone. Hurrying away with the other two men as they went out on the hunt.