Nothing alike.
But that was just because she’d hardly ever seen him smile. She wondered if he might be as agile as Flynn. He seemed to have the same heroic ethics as Flynn’s character in this swashbuckler. She’d considered him an adversary of whom to be wary. Because he was skeptical of her!
But did that matter when he intended to investigate her friend’s disappearance and not scoff at her fears?
No, he could be as rude as he liked.
But as she drifted off, she had to acknowledge that there was something about him that attracted her.
Yes, he was lean and muscular and wore a dark suit very well. He had a chiseled face that was highly masculine and appealed to all her senses.
Meg rolled over and reminded herself that she’d worked with well-built men on a daily basis.
He was...different.
Worry about Lara, not him!
On the other hand, maybe it was better to wonder what her temporary partner might be like in bed than to spend the night obsessing about Lara.
She needed to sleep. She really needed to sleep.
She’d just started to drift off again when she heard someone at her door.
Meg bolted to a sitting position, instantly reaching for the sidearm at her bedside. She stared into the shadows left by the night-light.
She could swear that her doorknob had turned.
Leaping out of bed, she flattened herself against the wall, then threw the door open. No one there. She looked cautiously into the hallway. It was empty, as well.
Had a friend tested her door to see if she was sleeping?
She’d lived with her fellow cadets for months now. They didn’t try doors to see if they were locked; they rapped loudly. Or they texted. Or called her cell.
Barefoot, she moved silently down the stairs and into the lounge area, but the place was deserted. Everyone who’d been there earlier must have gone out for dinner or drinks. Guards patrolled all of Quantico; it was almost impossible to get in without providing an ID.
She checked the kitchen. No one. Finally, she gave up.
She went to the front door and carefully peered out. But her caution wasn’t needed.
There was no one around.
As she turned to head back in, she paused.
She could hear a motor gunning somewhere.
Ridiculous! She was getting paranoid. She lived in one of the safest places in the country. Only military, physicians, cadets, agents, police and other authorized individuals could be here.
And she’d searched everywhere, found no one. She was, quite simply, paranoid. Maybe not a bad way to be out on the streets—but here?
She forced herself to go upstairs and back to bed, locking the door to her room again. She tried to sleep, but couldn’t. She was glad she’d received her regulation real Glock and had that to use rather than the red-handled fake they’d had during their training period.
Why would someone take on the dangerous task of stalking her here? Not that she was so dangerous, but this was Quantico.
And really, why would anyone stalk her?
*
What people didn’t know seldom hurt them, Slash thought.
But it could kill them!
What Ms. Brand-New-Agent didn’t know was that Slash McNeil was the most intelligent and organized serial killer she’d ever face. Every move he made was planned; for every step he took, he had a backup plan. He had access—anywhere he wanted to go.
He could watch her, as he had watched others. Watch, and not make a move until the time was right. He could make her disappear; he could make her reappear—whenever he chose.
Now, Lara Mayhew...
The time wasn’t right!
But this woman...
She annoyed him. She couldn’t leave well enough alone. Had to be a cop, had to be an agent. Thought she was tough.
Well, it didn’t matter how tough she was. He had strength and power. Physical strength—and the power of the right people behind him. And power, everyone knew, mattered much more than strength.
He’d watched her as she’d looked around, watched her face, and the emotion she couldn’t hide. She was an open book, especially when she didn’t know she was observed. She was beginning to doubt her own senses, her own sanity. She was afraid she was letting it all get to her, that she was paranoid.
Slash smiled. He liked paranoid. Paranoid was good.
A scowl replaced his smile. He didn’t like Bosworth. He didn’t like the “special” unit, the Krewe of Hunters. They were secretive. They had separate offices. They had more security cameras than the damned White House or the Capitol building.
But he knew about Bosworth. He knew some of his weaknesses.
And while the man might be tall and solidly muscled, that didn’t really mean anything. A single bullet could bring down a football tackle, a Hulk Hogan, a mixed-arts expert...
Slash reminded himself to stay on target.
Right now, she was the target, pretty, tall, lithe, with all that raven hair drawn back, indigo eyes still giving so much away.
It was going to be fun taking her down.
He smiled, revved his car and began to mentally plan the things he might do to her.