The Heart of a Killer by Jaci Burton
He leaned back in the booth and studied her with his unfathomable gaze. Years ago she couldn't get enough of his eyes, could stare into them for hours, getting lost in the blue depths until she'd lost track of time. She used to think she was the luckiest girl in the world that Dante Renaldi had chosen her as his girlfriend.
They'd sit together in secluded spots like this and make all kinds of plans about their future together.
Until that one night changed everything.
And then Dante had up and left without a word.
So much for their pledge to spend forever together, no matter what.
"You thinking about work, or about me?" he asked, forcing her gaze from her cup of coffee and her thoughts away from the past.
"Work." She wouldn't tell him her thoughts had been centered on him. He didn't need to know that him showing up had dredged up memories she'd long ago buried.
"Any leads on George?"
"I can't tell you that. It's an ongoing investigation, one in which you might be a suspect."
He laughed, and the sound rippled through her nerve endings.
"You aren't serious about that. It was George who was killed. My foster father."
She shrugged. "So?"
"And I just got here."
"I hear better excuses than that from people who pulled the trigger with witnesses standing right in front of them."
"And probably lousy excuses from those who didn't. Isn't it your job to weed out those who did from those who didn't?"
Wasn't he a smart-ass? "Yes."
"Then I guess it won't take you long to figure out I had nothing to do with George's murder."
She drained the cup and refilled, not taking her eyes off Dante while she poured.
"You're wondering about my motivation for showing up all of a sudden after twelve years, and ending up right in the middle of a murder."
"You have no idea what I'm thinking."
"Some things come back pretty easily." He shrugged. "I used to know a lot about your thoughts."
"I was sixteen at the time, Dante. I didn't have too many thoughts back then that didn't center on you. Pretty easy to figure me out."
He leaned forward, clasped his hands together. "And now you're all complex?"
She frowned. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. It's easy enough to tell." He leaned back. "You'd have to be with the job you do. Solving crime requires a lot of thought."
She cracked a smile. "Any particular reason you're trying to flatter me?"
"Just stating the obvious. No flattery intended. You can't be a fumbling dumbass and make detective."
Settling in and talking to him was easy. She hated that he'd made it so easy.
Her food arrived and just in time, since her stomach grumbled. Vending-machine food for the past ten hours just hadn't cut it. She was starving. She dived in as if she hadn't eaten in... God, she couldn't remember when she'd had her last decent meal. Ignoring Dante, she put all her concentration into shoveling food in her mouth, not coming up for air until she'd scooped the last of her eggs onto her last bite of toast. She avoided licking her fingers because she had company at the table, instead used her napkin to wipe her hands.
When she looked up, Dante was studying her again.
"What?"
"You used to pick at your food. I was always afraid you were anorexic."
She snorted. "I wasn't. I was a picky eater. Clearly, I'm not one now."
"Obviously. You crammed every bite of food from that plate into your mouth. I was waiting for you to lick the plate clean."
"I pondered it, then decided against it. You might have been appalled."
He laughed. "Hey, if you're hungry, go for it. Or you could just order another meal."
She drained her orange juice and set the glass and plate to the side. "Not necessary. I'm sufficiently full now."
"It's nice to see you eating."
"I've gained an appetite over the years."
He shifted and looked under the table.
"What are you doing?"
He straightened, his gaze roaming from her face to the rest of her. "Checking to see if you have a hollow leg, because judging from your body there's no way you can eat that much and not gain weight."
She laughed. "I burn it all off working. And it's not like I get three squares a day of food like this. Most of the time I'm lucky to grab a granola bar or crap from the vending machine at the precinct. A full plate like this is a rarity."
"You have someone at home to cook for you?"
Clever. "You mean like a housekeeper?"
"No, like a husband."
"Nice fishing expedition. No husband."
He leaned back. "Just figured by now you'd be married with kids."
"I am married. To my job."
"You're too beautiful to be married to your job."
"That's a sexist remark."
He didn't appear concerned, just took another sip of coffee, then said, "Okay, then. You're too beautiful to be without a man."
"I didn't say I was without a man."
"So you do have someone in your life."
"I didn't say that, either."
His lips curled. "Cagey."
Despite her intent to keep her conversation with him cool, she couldn't help but enjoy this cat-and-mouse game of Twenty Questions. "What about you? You certainly look like too much man to be without a woman."
He leveled one seriously hot look on her that made her toes curl.
"How do you know I'm without a woman?"
She laughed, letting out some of the stress that had been tightening her shoulders. "I think if you had a woman somewhere you wouldn't be sitting here with me."
"You are a good detective."
She lifted her cup to her lips and smiled. "That's what my dad says."
"See, this is what surprises me. You never wanted to be a cop like your dad."
Her smile died. "Things changed."
"You mean what happened twelve years ago?"
"I don't want to talk about twelve years ago."
"What if I do?"
"Is that why you're back? To bring up the past?"
"No. I came to see you, to see everyone."
She hated asking it, didn't want him to think she craved the answer. But the question needed to be answered. "Where've you been?"
He shrugged. "Here and there."
"That's a lousy answer to give a cop."
His lips lifted. "Yeah. But, really, not much to tell. I drifted, wandered, picked up work in one spot, then moved to another. I didn't stay in one place too long."
"I could find out where you've been."
His grin widened. "You could try."
"Are you challenging me?" Irritation made her breakfast coil up like an angry snake in her stomach.
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. "No. I didn't come back here to piss you off."
She pulled her hand away. "You're working pretty damn hard on it."
He inhaled, blew it out. "There's nothing to tell you. I saw a lot of the...country. I was restless. And I needed to get out of here."
Escape would have been nice for her, too. But that hadn't been an option. "You picked a hell of a time to just pick up and leave, Dante."
He stared down at his coffee cup, then back up at her. "Yeah, sorry about that."
That was it? She'd been attacked, had gone through the worst trauma of her life, and the one person she thought she could count on had abandoned her when she needed him the most. And all he had for her in the way of explanation was "sorry about that"?
She stared him down, refusing to let him run this time. "You know, that's just not good enough."
To his credit, he didn't flinch, instead held her gaze. "I know it isn't."
"Pretty interesting coincidence that you show up and George is killed."
He drained the last of the coffee in his cup. "Lousy coincidence. I wish I'd been back sooner."
"Ho
"Soon enough that I could have prevented it."
She leaned back in the booth. "How could you have prevented it?"
"I don't know. Someone lured him to that alley and beat him to death. If I'd been here maybe I could have stopped it."
"Roman was here. Gabe was here. Jeff was here. None of them stopped it."
His gaze shifted to the window where morning traffic crowded the street. "I know. I still think I might have been able to do something." He turned his attention back to her. "Someone else knows about that night--about what happened."
She'd been avoiding thinking that. "Or it could be coincidence."
"Oh, come on, Anna. You're smarter than that. It's no coincidence he was killed in that alley. There's a connection."
"He was found with drugs in his pocket. It could have been a drug deal gone bad."
"Yeah, right. And then they beat him to death and carved a heart on his chest."
She shrugged. "I'm just thinking of all angles."
"There's only one angle. Someone saw what happened twelve years ago."
She looked around the restaurant. No one sat by them, but still she leaned forward. "But why George? He had nothing to do with it."
"I don't know. He had no connection to that night. That's the part that doesn't make sense."
To her, either. She had a lot of thinking to do, and she was too damn tired to do it clearly. She needed to recharge, then tackle it again once she'd had some sleep.
She picked up the bill and slid money to the waitress as she stood. "I need to go."
As she headed out the door, awareness of Dante on her heels pricked at her as she pushed through the front door and toward the parking lot.
"I invited you to breakfast. I would have paid."
She slid on her sunglasses and pulled her keys from her pocket. "I'm capable of paying for my meal. It was nice to catch up with you, but I'm tired and I'm going home."
"I'll follow you."
"I don't think so."
He had the nerve to smile at her. "I'm following you anyway. I want to make sure you get home okay."
"Are you serious? I'm armed. I'm a detective, for the love of God. And it's broad daylight. I've been taking care of myself for a lot of damn years now, Dante. Just because you swept back into town thinking--I don't know what the hell you're thinking--doesn't mean you need to start protecting me. My days of needing you as my bodyguard are over."
She stopped just short of blurting out that he'd failed as a bodyguard the last time she'd seen him, but the words stuck in her throat, refusing to come out.
Even she wasn't that cruel.
He moved in closer. "I'm sure you don't need someone to watch over you. I know you can take care of yourself. But I'm here and this is what I used to do. So I'm following you home."
She hated that he was here, messing up her life, making her want things she'd wanted for a long time, then pushed to the back of her mind, forcing herself to forget.
She inhaled the scent of him. Big mistake, because God help her, she wanted to put her hands on him, and in that moment she realized the feelings she had for him weren't dead.
More likely it was just that she hadn't been laid in a really long time. Dante was still a prime specimen of male beauty. Which was the only reason he had this effect on her. She needed a fast release of tension and he was a man.
But she already knew he wouldn't be a quick fuck and out the door. They had too much history.
And dammit, they'd never had sex.
That night twelve years ago had gotten in the way.
It still would.
She tilted her head back and offered up an uncaring shrug. "Do what you want. I'm going home."
She got into her car and pulled out of the parking lot, refusing to check and see if he followed.
She already knew he would.
What would happen when they got to her house?
She'd turn him away. Or maybe he'd just drive right past when he saw she was fine, which of course she would be.
Just fucking fine.
Yeah, she was fine, all right. So fine she buried herself in her work to avoid alone time. Because alone time meant thinking about her life.
Or lack of one.
Wasn't that why she worked her ass off, agreeing to pull extra shifts all the time? So many of the guys had families and commitments. She didn't, so why not work?
Things might have been different for her if Dante hadn't left.
Then again, maybe they wouldn't have been different at all. Maybe their teen romance would have run its course and she would be right where she was now.
But she couldn't change the attack, couldn't change what had happened to her that night. And hadn't she always wondered what it might have been like if Dante had stayed? If she'd had him to hold on to, would she still feel so lost, so empty inside?
Ugh. Could she be more dramatic?
Lost and empty. Please. Her life was just fine.
And there was that fine word again, that word that seemed so...inadequate and unfulfilling.
She pulled into the driveway and opened her car door, so deep in thought she startled when Dante appeared right next to her.
"Jesus. How did you sneak up on me?"
He smiled. "I guess you are tired." He took the keys from her hand and headed toward her front door, making her run to catch up to him.
"Hey, I can do that," she said, fighting him for the keys.
"I'm sure you can."
He stepped up to the front door, twirling her keys.
And stopped so fast she tumbled into his back.
"Dammit. Why don't you look where you're-- What are those?"
"I don't know. Got a boyfriend?"
"I already told you I didn't." She crouched down to pick up the flowers that had been left lying in front of the door.
"Don't touch them."
"What?" She tilted her head back to stare up at him. "What are you talking about? They're just roses."
Dante bent down to examine them. "There's a card. You see what it says?"
She hadn't noticed the card tucked in with the flowers. It was typed, not handwritten.
Did you like the gift I left you in the alley?
Her skin broke out in goose bumps, nausea bubbling up inside. She leaped up and backed away from the porch.
"Oh, shit. Goddamnsonofabitch. Who did this?" She whirled around, her hand on the butt of her pistol.
"Whoever it is might still be here, hiding, watching to see your reaction." She saw Dante reach behind him, lift his shirt, saw him pull out a Glock. A few minutes ago she'd have asked him if he had a permit, would have used it as an excuse to find out more about him.
Right now she was glad for the backup.
"Call it in," he said. "And don't go inside. I'll look around."
"Don't get in the grass. There might be footprints."
He turned to her. "I'm not an idiot."
She cocked her head to the side as she lifted her phone. "I don't know who the hell you are, Dante."
"Yeah, well, we'll talk about that later."
Yes, they would.
She made the call, then started walking around the porch, looking for any evidence like footprints or discarded cigarette butts--any lucky clue.
Usually there weren't such things, but sometimes one got lucky.
"I don't see anyone lurking around the bushes or around your neighbors' houses. I checked your backyard and the alley. There's no one."
Anna looked down the street, then up. This wasn't going to happen to her again. She'd suffered the most incredible fear she'd ever known. Nothing would ever scare her like that again.
"I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but I'm not joining in."
Crime scene techs showed up. Anna directed them to the flowers and card. They photographed and bagged the evidence. Anna had them wait outside and directed them to check for footprints and fingerprints while she unlocked her front door.<
Dante put on a pair of gloves and nestled in right by her side.
"You aren't coming in with me."
"You'll have to arrest me to stop me, because for all we know he could be inside waiting for you, and you've got nobody backing you up."
"And you aren't a cop."
His deep blue gaze bored into hers as he lifted the Glock and pointed it inside the house. "Trust me when I tell you I know how to use this gun. Either call for backup or let me go in with you."
Her teeth hurt from grinding them. She nodded. "Fine. Stay behind me and do exactly what I say."
She caught the slight lift of his lips. "Yes, Detective."
She waited for the techs to dust and lift prints from the doorknob, then turned the knob and nudged the door open with her foot. Light streamed in from the gauzy curtains in her dining room, making it easy to see inside the living room.
"Nothing looks out of place," she whispered to Dante. "I'm moving inside."
She felt Dante on her left flank as she stepped in, her gun pointed slightly down, her finger poised on the trigger. She made a sweep left, then right, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. While she moved to the right, Dante swept to the left, opening the closet door while Anna headed into the kitchen.
Once they cleared those areas they went together down the hall and checked the two bedrooms and bathrooms.
Everything was clear.
"Nothing's been touched. Nothing even looks like it's been moved even an inch. He wasn't inside."
"Or he's good at putting things back in place."
She sighed. "I'll let the techs in and have them dust for prints, but I don't think he was in here. I'd know."
"Yeah? How would you know?"
"Instinct."
He nodded. "That I understand."
"I'm going to have to give my captain an update on all this. This sucks."
"First you need to get some sleep. There are dark circles under your eyes."
He reached out, swept his thumb across her cheekbone.
His touch sent shock waves through her body. Unprepared, she took a hasty step back and stumbled. Dante caught her with his arm wrapped around her, tugging her against him, which only made things worse. He was warm--solid, and not at all what she wanted.
This was all too much.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." She jerked away from him and turned around, headed outside to the techs and led them into the house.
While they worked making a dust bowl out of her entire house, she contacted her captain and left him a message, letting him know about the flowers and card, then told him she'd give him a full report when she came on duty again.