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  Step into my web…and you’ll never get out.

  Chloe Hastings doesn’t like rules, and she doesn’t exactly play well with others. But she does have one amazing talent—she can get into the mind of killers like no one else. A police consultant and profiler, Chloe is definitely not like anyone that Joel Landry has ever encountered. From the moment they meet—in the middle of a bank robbery—she throws him off balance and pulls him under spell. She seems to have no fear, she plots constantly, and…Joel quickly finds himself trapped in her web.

  She needs a new partner…and he’s just the man for the job.

  There’s a sadistic killer hunting in the streets of New Orleans, and Chloe plans to catch him. First, though she needs a partner she can trust, and she’s decided that Dr. Joel Landry is the best fit for the job. Sure, he has a dark past. The doctor was attacked by a serial killer, but Joel survived while his attacker did not. Now the ruggedly handsome doctor has turned to the shadows. He’s learned how to hunt, how to fight, how to kill in a thousand brutal ways—in short, he’s acquired all of the skills that Chloe absolutely adores in a man.

  He’s exactly what she wants. She could become the only thing he needs.

  Together, they should be a perfect fit. She knows the minds of criminals better than anyone else, and Joel can protect her from any threat that comes their way. They’ll have one hell of a time tracking down the bad guys, provided Chloe and Joel don’t kill each other first. Another unanticipated twist for the new partners? Their attraction to each other is explosive, their desire uncontrollable. One reckless kiss seals their fate, and their need won’t be denied.

  And neither will the killer who waits for his moment to attack.

  Chloe knows that she’s facing the most dangerous adversary of her life. A killer who has waited and planned and who is determined to get his vengeance on her. And he knows that the best way to hurt Chloe…is by taking away the man she’s starting to love…

  Once you step into a spider’s web, there is no going back.

  Author’s Note: Chloe Hastings always has a plan in play. Her investigations are unusual, her friends are generally on the shady side, and her social skills? Well, those are pretty much non-existent. But Chloe solves every case that crosses her path, and she never, ever backs down. When she teams up with her new partner, all bets are off. Joel is gorgeous, sinful, and about to break through every wall that Chloe possesses. He’ll fight for her, she’ll fight for him, and the criminals in their path had better get ready. There is a new crime-solving team in town.

  By Cynthia Eden

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are not intentional and are purely the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional.

  Copyright ©2020 by Cindy Roussos

  All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the express written consent of the author except for the use of small quotes or excerpts used in book reviews.

  Copy-editing by: JRT Editing

  (build 3)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Step Into My Web

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Author’s Note

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  “Lady, do you have a damn death wish?” The robber shoved his gun toward the face of the woman who stood before him, her delicate shoulders squared and her spine perfectly straight.

  “Not today, I don’t,” she assured him as the faintest trace of a British accent whispered beneath her words. The woman didn’t back down. In fact, her slightly angled chin shot up into the air.

  Sonofabitch. Joel Landry hadn’t been looking for this shit. Truly. He’d just come in the bank to cash a check and be on his way. He’d wanted a nice, easy day. Was that too much to ask?

  But…two minutes inside, and trouble had come calling.

  He’d been standing behind the woman with the sleek black hair, the hair that fell in a thick curtain just below her shoulders. His gaze may have drifted over her body as he admired her long legs and curves, so perhaps that was why he’d been distracted. He hadn’t even realized the gunman was there until the bastard had knocked out the guard, then yelled for everyone to “Freaking freeze!”

  Joel had frozen. The woman in front of him hadn’t.

  Now he was about to have to do something incredibly stupid so she could keep on living. His typical luck. Joel sighed. Just when life had been getting back to normal. Semi-normal? Screw it. He—

  “This won’t end like the other times,” the dark-haired woman announced.

  The three bank tellers were cowering behind the counter. The bank manager was sobbing near his desk. Other than Joel and the crazy woman who didn’t seem to have the sense to be scared, there were only two other customers in there. A grandmotherly type who clutched her pearls as if her life depended on it, and a young, barely eighteen-looking fellow with eyes that darted around constantly. Buckets of sweat covered the kid.

  The bank manager squeaked, “Other times?” His sobs momentarily paused.

  The man with the gun narrowed his eyes on the woman who faced off against him. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My friends call me Chloe.” A pause. “We won’t be friends.”

  Oh, hell. Joel saw the robber’s hand tighten on the gun. The man was going to fire. Joel knew it. He lunged forward, slamming his body into the woman’s—

  They hit the marble floor of the bank with a shuddering crash.

  The gun didn’t fire.

  Chloe blinked, narrowing her absolutely gorgeous blue eyes. Bright blue eyes. She stared at him for a moment, with no emotion registering on her face. It was almost like—like a robot was focusing on him. She blinked once, then twice. Click, click.

  Her hands came up and clamped around his shoulders. Her touch sent an electric surge of heat spiraling right through him. What in the hell?

  “You’re strong.” Her lips tightened. “And heavy. Now, please do me the courtesy of getting off my person.”

  He’d just saved her lovely ass. Would a thank you be too much to ask? Joel didn’t—

  The gun shoved into the back of his head. Immediately, his whole body tensed.

  “Trying to play the hero, are you?” The robber grunted and added, “Can’t have that crap. Get up, both of you!”

  Slowly, Joel lifted his body off Chloe. Don’t say anything, he mouthed the words at her.

  She frowned at him.

  The bank robber shouted, “Put your hands up!”

  Just one guy. Joel figured he could probably take him, but he didn’t want to risk the gun going off and some innocent getting hurt.


  Reluctantly, Joel lifted his hands.

  Chloe lifted her hands, but she stared expectantly at Joel. As if she was waiting for him to do something. Jeez, what did the woman want, for him to take a bullet?

  The robber swiped one hand over Joel’s body, taking his wallet and his phone, then the guy closed in on Chloe.

  “I don’t have a phone on me. No ID, either,” she told him, voice seemingly pleasant and helpful.

  The man ignored her and patted her down, but turned up no phone. Or ID.

  Joel frowned at her. Why had she been in the bank if she didn’t even have her ID with her?

  Her smile spread. She looked a bit smug. Sexy, yes, God, yes, he’d give her sexy points. With that dark hair, her perfect cream skin, and her red, plump lips, she was gorgeous.

  But he was also starting to think the robber had been right about her. Did the woman have some kind of death wish?

  The robber motioned with his gun. “Walk this way.”

  Uh, okay. Joel walked that way, but he tried to angle his body so that he was between the gorgeous, potentially death-wish-having woman and the gun.

  A few moments later, they were in front of what turned out to be a storage closet. A very narrow storage closet. The robber waved them inside. It was so tight in there that Chloe’s body pushed against Joel’s. Every lovely inch of her. And her scent—a light raspberry? Strawberry?—teased his nose.

  The robber stood in the doorway, smirking. “Won’t cause any trouble in here, will you?”

  Joel’s stare narrowed on him. The fellow was about average height, with drooping shoulders and a slight pudge in his stomach. A weak beard covered his equally weak chin, and his grip on the gun was far too tight.

  The robber started to slam the door shut—

  “Harry,” the woman sighed out the name. “You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. Had to be extra greedy, didn’t you?”

  “Harry” widened his eyes. “How the hell do you know my name?”

  “I know lots of things,” she replied demurely.

  The gun was shaking in Harry’s hand. Joel figured they were both about to die. Getting shot in a smelly storage closet. That was his end?

  Only instead of firing, Harry slammed the door shut. There was a distinct snick as the lock turned. Abso-fucking-lutely wonderful.

  Darkness covered them, the only light coming in from beneath the door. Joel remembered another time. Being trapped in the dark. The stench of blood. The feel of the heat and dirt and sweat covering his body as—

  Her body pressed against his. Her arm lifted and—

  A light turned on.

  “I pulled the cord,” she told him, again using what he was thinking of as her helpful voice. “You seemed to be suffering from some PTSD that was triggered by the dark or perhaps the close confines of the closet, so I wanted to calm you—”

  “What. The. Fuck?” His heart pounded hard in his chest.

  “PTSD?” Her dark brows arched. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. I can’t believe you aren’t familiar with the term.”

  He sucked in a breath. Let it out slowly. Extra slowly. “I am familiar.”

  A quick nod. “Oh, that’s good. I was afraid that you didn’t—”

  “There is a bank robber out there with a gun.”

  Did she almost smile? “I noticed him.”

  “He could shoot us both at any moment.”

  Those plump lips pursed for a moment. Then…“No, I don’t really think he could.”

  His temples throbbed. “We’re lucky he didn’t lock us in the damn vault.” Talk about a blast straight from his nightmares. He didn’t do so well in closed spaces. Side effect of being buried alive. This closet smelled of turpentine and bleach. And strawberries—her. But at least it wasn’t some air-tight bank vault that would become his coffin.

  A small laugh escaped her.

  An actual laugh.

  What in the hell? Who laughed after being locked up by a bank robber? Was the woman truly crazy? Such a total and complete waste. Why were the sexy ones so often also the crazy-as-hell ones?

  Her hand—with the softest skin on the whole planet—patted against his cheek. “That’s so funny. You’re quite amusing.”

  “Nothing about this situation is funny. Lady, are you off your meds?”

  “I’m not on any medication.”

  “Then why are you acting so crazy? Like this is a fun, freaking game instead of a life-and-death deal!”

  “First…” A soft sigh from her. “Crazy is not a clinical term, and you shouldn’t just throw it out there like it is.”

  His temples throbbed harder.

  “Second. Take some breaths. I was laughing because you thought he was going to put us in the vault.”

  “Yeah. How is that shit funny?”

  “He’s a bank robber. That means he is here to rob the bank of its valuables. You do know that the most valuable things are kept in the vault? Why put us in there? We’d just be in his way.”

  Breathe. He had to breathe. And not because she’d told him to take breaths.

  “Harry is here for very specific items. He’ll get what he needs, and then dear Harry will think that he’s walking away free and clear.”

  She’d done it again. Referred to the bank robber by name. As if they were old buddies. His heart rate sped up even more. “How do you know his name?”

  “Uh, because I was hunting him?”

  Joel shook his head.

  Her hand fell away. She’d still been touching him. Part of Joel, dammit, had still been liking her touch.

  “Say that again.” The pounding in his temples had gotten so loud that he must have misheard her.

  “I was hunting him.” Again, that British accent of hers slithered through. Faint, but there. Perhaps a little more pronounced than it had been before because Joel thought she might be annoyed.

  Join the club, sister.

  “This isn’t the first bank Harry has hit,” Chloe informed him crisply. “It’s actually number four.”

  Joel stared at her. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

  “I was waiting for him to come in.” Her smile flashed. Her voice was low, though, and he realized it had been low the whole time that they’d been in the closet. She was all whispery. Her whispery voice was…sexy. Why was he finding everything about her to be hot?

  He was so messed up. Was this what got him going now? Pretty women with delusions? Fuck me. “And what were you going to do…” Joel drawled as he tried to get his shit together, “when he came in the bank? Chat his ear off? Become his new BFF? Because I didn’t see you stopping him!”

  “Well, I was about to stop him.” Her lips curled down. “Then you heaved your body at me. Threw us both to the floor. And got us locked in this coffin.”

  Coffin.

  He refused to look at the tiny walls again. Joel blew out a long breath. “I was saving your ass.”

  “Why?”

  Ah, obviously—“Because it needed saving?”

  “It didn’t.” She shook her head. Her hair danced over her cheek.

  “Lady…”

  “Chloe.”

  “We aren’t friends. And you specifically said your friends called you that. Which probably means it’s not even your real name. You have some other name that you were legally born with, and Chloe is some weird-ass alias.” He’d just been making shit up because…hell, saying that stuff seemed fitting, with her. It also seems way possible that Chloe is not her name.

  Her eyes widened. “You are interesting.”

  “And you’re a straight-up psycho.” Breathe. Breathe. “Sorry. I know that’s not a clinical term, either. Sue me.” He was about to lose his mind. He had to get out of that closet. He couldn’t stay in that coffin another minute. “This is how things will go down. I’m going to get us out of here. I’m going to knock out the robber. And I’m going to make sure those people out there stay alive.”

  “Oh.” She tilted back her head. Stared at him with
that robotic look in her eyes again. Click. Click.

  What was up with that?

  “I didn’t realize you were a superhero.” She nodded. “My mistake. I guess I overlooked the cape and the awesome crime-fighting skills.”

  She was making a joke? Then? With her absolute dead-pan voice?

  She patted his cheek once more. Let her hand linger. “I don’t need saving. That will be point one.”

  Point one? Why was she lecturing him? They weren’t in class. They were in a tiny closet. Coffin. They were in hell.

  “As far as getting out of this coffin—”

  “Don’t call it that,” he gritted out from between clenched teeth.

  “Why not? It’s how you keep thinking of it.”

  Shock rolled through him.

  “As far as the coffin,” Chloe continued doggedly. “I can get us out anytime we want. That’s point two.”

  He shouldn’t have come in the bank. He shouldn’t have admired her ass. Or her legs. Or anything about the woman.

  “Point three…Chloe is my real name. Or one of them, anyway. My birth certificate says my name is Constance Catherine Chloe Hastings. Obviously, that’s just too many names, so I go with Chloe.”

  “Great for you. Fantastic.”

  “For point four, what makes you think all of those people out there need saving?” Her hand trailed down his cheek, sliding a little over the stubble he had there. So he hadn’t taken the time to shave that morning. So he was wearing battered jeans and old sneakers and a t-shirt that had seen better days.

  She looked like a dream.

  He looked like hell.

  But she was the one saying—

  “Accomplice.” Her hand dropped. “Obviously, one of the people out there is Harry’s accomplice.”

  Oddly fascinated by her and this new, ever-so-unbelievable revelation, Joel had to ask, “Is that even his name? Or did you like, look at him and just think the bastard looked like a Harry?”

  She smiled. A quick flash that lit her eyes. “Are you asking me if I guessed his name? I never guess.”

  Uh, huh.

  “But I do make educated deductions.”

  Heaven help him.