In New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Eden’s latest novel, the Last Option Search Team (LOST) returns—and for one agent, the hunt for a serial killer just got personal…
He swore to protect her…
Bailey Jones somehow survived her harrowing abduction by the infamous Death Angel. But while her physical scars have healed, she can’t stop wondering about a woman she helped to escape, who simply disappeared. When LOST agent Asher Young is assigned to her case, Bailey instantly feels an attraction to the intense, ex-SEAL who seems to be carrying dark secrets of his own.
But keeping his promise…
Asher can’t afford to let his growing feelings for Bailey distract him from his job. Only she can soothe his horrific nightmares, but the last thing he wants is for the demons from his past to ever hurt her. Bailey has gotten past his guard, and the emotions he feels for her—they’re as dark and dangerous as the past he doesn’t want to face.
Could cost both their lives.
When corpses begin surfacing—all marked with the same tattoo depicting the Death Angel’s calling card—Asher must race to stop a twisted killer who wants nothing more than to claim his next prize: Bailey…
“Bailey Jones . . .” Asher said her name softly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “There are a few things you should know about me before we begin.”
There are things you should know about me, too. But I’m not going to tell you . . . or you won’t help me.
“First, you don’t have to fear me. Part of my job at LOST—well, let’s just say Gabe hired me on because he wanted a bit more muscle. Protection is my role. I’ll keep you safe and track down any clues about that missing woman. On my watch, nothing will happen to you.”
She nodded even though—
I don’t believe you. There is no safety. I learned that.
“And second . . . you don’t have to bullshit me.”
Now she blinked in surprise.
He laughed, a deep, rough rumble of sound that Bailey found she liked to hear.
“You think I can’t tell when you’re wearing a mask? You’ve got yourself locked down tight, under careful control, don’t you? But you don’t have to do that with me. I’m not one of the North Carolina deputies. I’m not going to judge you. And I’m not some lame-ass reporter who wants to splash your story all over the world.”
I wear a mask all the time now because something is wrong inside of me. It has been, ever since that fire. That hole. That hell.
“So let’s put a no-bullshit rule in effect,” he murmured.
Her hands curled around the steering wheel. “Liking rules, is that more of a military thing again?”
“Wanting to break rules . . . that’s why I left the SEALs.”
He’d been a SEAL? She turned to look up at him. “Is there a rule number three?”
“We’ll get to that rule later . . .”
She started the vehicle. “I’ll follow you to your place.”
“Do you have any rules for me?”
Don’t hurt me. Don’t judge me. Don’t pity me. Bailey cleared her throat. “I’m sure we can get to those rules later, too.”
He slammed her door shut. Through the window, Bailey watched as he strode away—not to another car, but to a shiny, big monster of a motorcycle. He climbed on, revved the engine moments later, and that rumbling growl filled the parking garage.
Asher slid the helmet over his head—a black helmet with a dark visor that completely obscured his face. Her heart beat faster as she stared at him.
That had been her first thought when she’d seen him in the conference room.
But he was on her side. Not a threat to her. He’d help her.
At least, that was what she hoped. Because if something didn’t change soon, Bailey was afraid that the deputies would be right about her. Her shrink would be right.
I may go crazy.