THE GIRL NEXT DOOR Read online

  Untouched.

  The intruder had just gone after her. He’d just destroyed her home.

  “I’m glad,” she whispered as her shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want him hurting you...because I pulled you into this mess.”

  He swore and tugged her closer to him.

  “I know it’s related, it has to be,” she said. She wasn’t going to ignore the facts, even though they terrified her. “It’s him. The killer. He knows I was at McAdams’s place. He could have been there, watching us from the outside when the police arrived.” A crowd of people had gathered on the street.

  He could have been right there.

  Her heart pounded in a double-time rhythm. “He knows who I am, where I live. And getting hauled into the station by Carmichael tonight...” She swallowed. “That just might have saved my life.”

  Because maybe the perp’s knife wouldn’t have just been used on her furniture and clothes.

  He could have used it on me.

  Chapter Five

  Cooper shut his apartment door. Gabrielle was inside, showering, and he had a few minutes to spare.

  Rachel and Dylan Foxx were already waiting outside for him—along with a sweeper crew. He jerked his head, and the crew hurried upstairs. If the killer had left evidence behind, they’d find it.

  “The local cops?” he asked. Because Carmichael would find out about tonight’s events, sooner or later.

  The EOD wanted that discovery to be later.

  “Our team won’t leave evidence behind. The detective will be called in once we’re finished,” Rachel said smoothly.

  Because before the local authorities took over, they had to make sure nothing had been left to implicate the EOD.

  His hands clenched into fists as his gaze met Dylan’s stare. “He’s targeting her.”

  “That doesn’t fit.” It was Rachel who replied. “He’s going after EOD agents—”

  “Their girlfriends,” Cooper said flatly. “He kills the girlfriends, the lovers, first. Then he goes after the agents.” It was the rogue’s pattern. “He knows these men, knows them better than we do.” Because he was hiding behind the mask of a friend. “And maybe he thinks that Gabrielle saw something, that she knows something about him, because that SOB destroyed her home.”

  He wouldn’t even allow himself to think about what might have happened if Gabrielle had been home when the rogue attacked.

  “Are you sure,” Dylan asked, voice quiet and gaze steady, “that she doesn’t know more? She was the one who found out about Van, right? Long before anyone in-house knew he was connected to Melanie Farrell.”

  “Someone in-house knew.” He hadn’t been given a chance to reveal this yet. “The last thing Van did was leave a message for me, in his own blood. EOD. That’s what he wrote.” McAdams had just been confirming what they already knew—

  The killer terrorizing D.C. was one of their own.

  “Did the cops see that message?” Dylan demanded as his face tensed.

  “No, I took care of it.” And that didn’t sit well with him. He’d destroyed evidence. “But Gabrielle saw it.”

  Rachel and Dylan shared a long look.

  “What?” Cooper snapped.

  “She’s a reporter,” Rachel reminded him with a raised brow.

  “I know what she is.”

  “She’s not going to forget what she saw. That woman will dig and dig until she figures out what the EOD truly is.”

  Not possible.

  “You have to stop her.” Dylan’s firm order. Dylan was the team leader on this case. The former SEAL had been working with the EOD much longer than Cooper had. “Throw her off the scent, give her another lead, but stop her from focusing on the EOD.”

  Easier said than done. “Right now, my goal is to keep her safe.” Even as he said the words, he realized they were true. It wasn’t about finding out what Gabrielle knew any longer. Not about getting close to any intel that she might possess.

  He wanted to make sure that she didn’t get hurt. That the rogue didn’t come within ten feet of her again.

  And I want to make sure that if she ever does fall, I’m right there to catch her.

  The thought rushed through him.

  Changed him.

  Then he heard the rustle of footsteps behind him. “She’s coming,” he whispered. Gabrielle would be looking for him, and she’d want to know what was happening upstairs.

  The door opened behind him bare seconds later. He glanced over his shoulder.

  Her long hair was wet. Slicked back, it accentuated her high cheekbones and her wide, dark eyes.

  She’d put on one of his old T-shirts. It seemed to swallow her delicate shoulders, and she’d worked some kind of magic to get a very faded pair of his running shorts to fit her.

  Her bare toes—adorned with bright red polish—curled against the hard wood floor. “I hope you don’t mind,” Gabrielle said softly, “but I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

  Because the rogue had destroyed everything she had.

  Bastard.

  “I don’t mind at all.” The words came out too gruff. Too rough. He cleared his throat and tried again, saying, “I can go out and get some more clothes for you, if you tell me your size.”

  Actually, he already knew her size. It was in the nice, tidy dossier that the EOD had given him.

  “Why don’t you let me make a run?” Rachel interrupted.

  Gabrielle’s gaze slid to her.

  “Most of the stores will be opening in a few hours,” Rachel added. “I can get the clothes for you, no problem.”

  Gabrielle hesitated. Then she cocked her head as her gaze slid between Rachel and Dylan, and the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry...what are you all doing here? I thought the cops were coming to investigate.”

  “My name’s Dylan Foxx, and I am the cops, sort of,” Dylan said as he offered his hand to her.

  Gabrielle took his hand. “Sort of?”

  “I work for the government,” Dylan explained. Cooper was surprised by that truth. But then Dylan continued, twisting fact and fiction as he explained, “I have a crew that specializes in crime scene investigation for Uncle Sam. They’re upstairs now, and as soon as they’re done, I’ll be turning the results over to—” he glanced at Cooper as if for confirmation “—a Detective Carmichael?”

  Cooper realized that Dylan was still holding Gabrielle’s hand. What was up with that? He maneuvered her away from Dylan. Dylan had a tendency to be a little too slick with the ladies.

  “Do you work for the government, too?” Gabrielle asked Rachel.

  Rachel nodded. “I’m Dylan’s associate.”

  Gabrielle fiddled with the bottom of Cooper’s shirt. “By any chance, have either of you ever heard of the EOD?”

  Cooper’s heart slammed into his chest.

  Rachel frowned. “The what?”

  At the same moment, Dylan shook his head. “No, can’t say that I have. Why? What is it?”

  Gabrielle turned toward Cooper. “It was written in the blood at the crime scene. You saw it, didn’t you?”

  He hated to do it, but Cooper shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I didn’t.”

  She blinked. “But...it was there. Carmichael said he didn’t see it, but you had to—”

  “I didn’t,” he made himself say again.

  Her gaze fell. “I saw it,” she said softly, determinedly. “EOD. Clear as day. That was McAdams’s last message, and I’m going to figure out what it means.”

  No, you can’t find out.

  Her gaze touched his once more. “I’m going to call my editor at the Inquisitor. I want to publish an account of everything that happened. Somewhere out there, someone knows either who or what the EOD is.”

&nb
sp; That couldn’t happen. There was no way that he could let her publish what she’d seen.

  Dylan’s gaze met Cooper’s. He easily read the order in the other man’s eyes.

  Cooper inclined his head.

  “When your team finishes,” Cooper said, “give us a report.”

  “Of course,” Dylan agreed. His attention shifted to Gabrielle. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

  “So am I.” Her lips twisted into a weak smile. “But if you and your team can help me to find the man who broke into my place, I’d sure appreciate it.”

  “We’ll do everything we can,” Dylan told her. He backed away.

  Rachel lingered. There were shadows in her eyes as she studied Gabrielle. “It doesn’t seem safe,” Rachel suddenly blurted.

  Dylan frowned at her.

  “The story that you’re following...all of the people that are winding up dead.” Rachel exhaled on a shaky breath. “Do you have family who live outside of D.C.? Friends? Maybe you should leave until the police catch this guy.”

  “His first victim was killed four months ago,” Gabrielle said. “Four months. The police haven’t caught him yet, and I’m not the type to run and hide and just hope that things change.”

  “Even if staying puts you in harm’s way?” Rachel pressed.

  Gabrielle’s shoulder brushed against Cooper. “I’ve got my own bodyguard. I trust him to keep me safe.”

  Don’t put so much trust in me.

  The mission had started so easily.

  But right then, he hated the lies that he’d told to Gabrielle.

  Rachel got the sizes for Gabrielle’s clothes and she promised to be back first thing in the morning with the items. When she started to leave, Gabrielle reached out and gave the other woman a quick hug.

  Surprise rippled across Rachel’s face.

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle told her as she eased back. “After what happened, just knowing that clothes are coming—” This time, her smile was full and real. “It may sound crazy, but it means a lot to me. Actually, it means everything. This guy isn’t going to stop me. He won’t intimidate me. I’m going to get justice for his victims.”

  Because that was what Gabrielle did, Cooper realized. She didn’t go after the criminals because she wanted attention or glory. She did it for the victims.

  So they wouldn’t be forgotten.

  Gabrielle slipped back into the apartment.

  He turned to follow her, but stopped when he saw Rachel glaring at him.

  That glare would have melted a lesser man.

  He leaned toward Rachel, acting as if he were giving her a hug. “What is it?” Cooper whispered.

  Her body was stiff and tense against his. “She deserves better than this,” Rachel hissed.

  Better than you.

  Yes, she did. Jaw locking, he followed Gabrielle inside his apartment, and he wondered just what he’d have to do in order to stop her from telling the world about the EOD.

  * * *

  BRUCE MERCER SAT in his office. His fingers tapped on his desk, a slow, steady rhythm as he listened to Dylan Foxx’s update.

  The agent was rambling, unusual for him. That rambling meant—

  “You found nothing in the reporter’s place,” Bruce said.

  Finally, Dylan stopped his ramble about fingerprint dusting and DNA analysis. Dylan gave a quick nod. “The fact that they didn’t find anything is significant, sir.”

  No, it wasn’t. “We already knew one of ours was behind the kills. It only stands to reason that if he didn’t leave a trace at the other scenes then he’d be just as careful at Gabrielle Harper’s place.” The EOD agents were the deadliest and the most covert in the U.S.

  Some in his unit were even called Shadow Agents—men and women who were so good at infiltrating enemy camps and carrying out their dangerous missions that they more closely resembled shadows than humans.

  You didn’t hear a shadow, didn’t feel it. Didn’t even realize it was there—until it was too late.

  “Cooper stopped the cops from seeing that Van had written EOD as an identifier for his killer,” Dylan said. “But he was too late to prevent Gabrielle from seeing the message. She told us that she was going to print that info in the Inquisitor.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Even if he had to shut that place down, he’d make sure her report never saw the light of day. He wasn’t going to risk the lives of innocent agents. Not that it wouldn come to that point. He had faith in one man. “Cooper will stop her. He’ll find a way to convince her that isn’t the right tactic to use.”

  “You sound awful certain...”

  “I am.” Bruce’s attention turned to the fat stack of manila folders in front of him. “I’ve called in a profiler.” One that he’d handpicked from the FBI. He didn’t usually let the Bureau nose around his cases, but this was a different situation.

  Right then, the EOD could actually use someone from the outside. A fresh pair of eyes, an unbiased observer, was exactly what he needed.

  He had high hopes for Noelle Evers.

  She’d better not disappoint him.

  “Do you know,” Mercer asked the other man, curious, “how many agents we’ve had at the EOD in the past fifteen years?”

  Dylan shook his head.

  Of course, he didn’t know. That intel was classified.

  “When agents leave, we do our best to keep tabs on them, but the truth of the matter is this...they leave because they want to vanish. They want to start new lives and not be hunted by their enemies.”

  They tried to make their pasts disappear.

  “But these men and women aren’t like everyone else. They’re the deadliest foes you could ever cross. I trained them. I brought them into this life.” His fisted hand slammed down on the files. “So that means I’m the one responsible for this killer—a man who started on this dark path because he wanted to hurt me.”

  They’d first become aware of the rogue months back, when inside information on Mercer had been leaked to one of his oldest and most powerful enemies. Anton Devast had learned about Mercer’s daughter. He’d tried to kill her in order to get revenge on Mercer.

  A life for a life.

  In the end, Devast had been the one to die.

  With Devast’s death, the rogue had spiraled even more out of control. The deaths had started then. More than just what the press knew about. More than just what the intrepid Gabrielle Harper had discovered.

  With Van’s death, they’d now lost four agents.

  Four.

  All within the past six months.

  “Profilers are supposed to tell which men and women are killers,” Dylan spoke slowly, bringing Mercer’s attention back to him. “But here, that’s what we all are.”

  Mercer shook his head. “No, Foxx, you’ve got that wrong. You’re soldiers. You’re heroes. The profiler is looking for a monster, someone pretending to be just like you.” Someone adept at hiding his true self.

  Mercer pushed back in his chair. His gaze cut to the right, to the window that overlooked D.C. “I never thought the biggest threat I’d face would come from within the organization that I made.” With blood, sweat, tears. He’d sacrificed so much for the EOD. Even his family.

  I’m sorry, Marguerite. His wife had been one of the first that he lost—the first, and the one that still made him feel like he was missing half of his heart.

  How much longer? It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered that question. How much longer could he truly sit at the helm of the EOD?

  Maybe he was getting too old for this mess. Maybe he should be the one looking for a way out.

  I need someone else to take over the reins.

  Because the idea of escape could sure tempt any agent.


  But Mercer couldn’t allow his legacy to be destroyed. “We’ll find him,” he vowed. He wasn’t going out—not yet.

  Not like this.

  When he left, it would be on his terms. It wouldn’t be due to some twisted killer who’d decided to put EOD agents on his hit list.

  The EOD had survived attacks before. Hell, agents had been targeted before. When you were the best out there, plenty of enemies would come gunning for you.

  We stopped them before. We’ll stop this SOB, too.

  * * *

  COOPER MARSHALL HAD taken in the reporter. He’d brought her into his apartment so that they could spend the night together.

  How cozy.

  The watcher stood outside of the brownstone. Dawn hadn’t come yet, and the darkness concealed him as he stared at the building.

  Last night, he’d also learned that Marshall had called in his team—Rachel Mancini and Dylan Foxx.

  They were on his list, too. Another pair that would be destroyed.

  But first he had to deal with the reporter. She’d surprised him by getting too close, far closer than the EOD. He wouldn’t underestimate her again.

  He would use her.

  A light was shining in Cooper’s bedroom. He could see the shadows of two forms—Cooper and Gabrielle.

  He smiled as he watched those shadows.

  Oh, yes, Gabrielle would definitely be useful to him.

  She would help him to destroy Cooper.

  * * *

  “YOU TAKE THE BED,” Cooper said as he rolled back his shoulders and tried to keep his gaze off the long, golden expanse of Gabrielle’s legs. “I’ll bunk on the couch.”

  He turned away from her, away from those tempting legs.

  “Sleep is going to be impossible, you know that, right?”

  He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You’re exhausted. You’ve been up most of the night.” And been terrified the majority of that time. “You need rest.”

  “And every time I even think about closing my eyes, guess what I see?” Those dark chocolate eyes were wide and on him. “It’s not exactly an image that makes me want to hit the dream circuit.”