Evidence of Passion. Cynthia Eden
were senior officers never mattered to him—it was all personal.” Adam gave a little shrug. “All passion, like I said.”
Was the rope starting to give around her left wrist? It was! And with another yank, Rachel thought she might be able to slip out of the rope that twisted around her right wrist, too.
“I’m the cold-blooded one,” he told her, “and I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re dead.”
No. No! Her wrists slipped free of the binds, and Rachel didn’t waste any more time begging for her life. She leaped out of that chair, attacking him with all her might.
They collided. Hit the floor. The gun slid from his fingers. She tried to lift her elbow and ram it into him—
But the drugs still had her muscles trembling and weak.
Adam caught her hand easily and he yanked her arm back down. He rolled them on the floor, locking her body beneath his. His green eyes gleamed down at her. “Such a fighter.” He yanked her hands above her head and pinned them to the floor. “Some don’t fight. They just sit there, crying, as they wait for me to kill them.” He flashed the wide smile that used to make her heart skip a beat. “That’s just one of the things I love about you.”
He dared to speak about love even as he prepared to kill her? Rachel slammed her forehead into his nose. She heard the crunch and knew she’d broken cartilage. The sound gave her a savage satisfaction. “You know nothing about love.”
He swore at the pain, and his hold weakened. Rachel was a marine, first and foremost, and she was not about to be easy prey. She twisted beneath him, struggling desperately, and she escaped from him as she heaved across the floor.
The gun. She had to get the gun that he’d dropped.
“Yes, I do know about love....”
His voice was so soft she barely heard it.
Rachel grabbed the gun. Her bloody fingers made holding the weapon hard.
Before she could spin toward him with her weapon, Rachel felt the tip of a knife press into her back.
“Do you think...” Adam asked her, seemingly curious “...that you could really do it? Do you think you could kill me?”
Her heart was about to burst out of her chest.
He leaned closer to her. That knife pressed a little deeper into her back. “Because I don’t think you can, Rachel. I think that I got to you. The controlled, all-business prosecutor. The brave soldier. I got beneath your skin, and I don’t think you’ve got it in you to actually kill me.”
She spun, ignoring the burn of the knife as it sliced over her skin. Rachel brought the gun up and aimed it right at him. “Get away from me,” Rachel ordered. Because she would pull that trigger. She would.
He dropped the knife, eased back. “I marked you.”
Her back throbbed, and she could feel the wetness of her blood soaking her shirt. “And if you come at me again,” Rachel told him, “I’ll kill you.”
He laughed. Adam didn’t seem to care that blood was coming from his nose or that she had a gun aimed dead-center at his heart.
“Get your hands up!” Rachel shouted.
He slowly lifted his hands. “A fighter,” he whispered again, and he sounded pleased. “But I guess you had to be, right, Rachel? Once a marine, always a marine.... A core of steel hidden beneath the silk.”
She stiffened. “Who are you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got quite a few names....”
She was in a nightmare.
“Most folks just call me Jack,” he said, as his eyes narrowed on her. His fingers slid into the pocket of his jeans.
“What are you doing? Stop!”
But he didn’t pull out a weapon. He pulled out what looked like...a playing card? He tossed it toward her. The card landed at her feet.
The Jack of Hearts.
Her fingers were trembling. That card... Two cards just like that one had recently been found at the scene of two murders in the area. One of the dead had been a witness in the Langam murder case. The other had been Quincy Langam’s ex-roommate.
“I’m surprised you’re able to stand now,” he continued as he rubbed a hand over the line of his jaw. “I hit you with enough sedatives to keep you out for a while. I’d thought about even killing you while you were unconscious...” He hesitated then shook his head. “But that just didn’t seem right.”
“You’re insane.” She needed a phone. She had to call the police and get help.
“No.” Anger flared in his eyes, turning his gaze into green fire. “I’m the man you need to fear.”
Her gaze darted around the room. Where were they? The place—it looked like some kind of old, abandoned factory. The room was huge, cavernous, and she was terrified.
But a marine didn’t let terror stop her. She just kept marching forward.
“What are you going to do?” Adam asked her. “Shoot me?”
“I’m going to call the authorities. You’re not going to hurt anyone else.”
His eyelids flickered. “So noble. Trying to do the right thing, but you should know...no prison will ever hold me. If the cops come blazing in, then I’ll escape, and I’ll come back for you.”
The words were chilling in their certainty.
“You’re mine,” he told her. His hands lowered to his sides. “Either mine to kill or mine to love. The choice is all on me... I knew it from the beginning.”
“Put your hands back up!” Rachel yelled.
He didn’t. He took a step toward her.
“Stop!”
“You can’t do it,” he said, his expression certain. “I know you can’t. Because I got to you. I made you feel, didn’t I, sweetheart?”
He’d lied to her. Used her. Drugged her. “I can. I will.” Her finger tightened on the trigger.
“It’s not loaded,” he said.
Rachel paused. Her gaze darted down to the gun.
And in that instant, he bent down and yanked a second weapon from his ankle holster.
“No!” Rachel’s shout seemed to echo in that huge room.
He fired at her.
She shot back at him.
Rachel fell, hitting the floor. She held on to her gun. She hurt. Hurt.
“Such a fighter...” His whisper drifted to her. “All the way to the end.”
Rachel tried to bring her gun up.
Then she heard his footsteps, running away.
“Adam?”
He didn’t answer.
She didn’t let go of the weapon. Rachel tried to pull herself up. The bullet had sunk into her left shoulder. Blood dripped down her arm.
There was no sign of Adam. No, there was no sign of Jack.
She stood on her feet, body trembling, wondering if she would be able to chase after him.
But then Rachel heard the pounding thud of footsteps. A lot of footsteps. And that thundering sound was coming toward her.
She turned, aiming her weapon even as the door on the right flew open. Men swarmed inside, men wearing all black and armed with guns of their own.
“Rachel Mancini?” One of the men barked.
Her