Samantha’s stomach knotted, but she barely eased out a breath. It’s working. She’s talking. “Because you made him strong. Just like you made him start cutting you. And he liked it, just as much as you did. But then one day, those slices on your skin weren’t enough to make you feel, were they? The cloud was back.”
“Shut. Up.” Nina nearly screamed at her.
“What did you decide the next rush would be? The knife wasn’t cutting deep enough...at least, not on you. Originally, I was looking at this all wrong. I thought George was angry, that he wanted to hurt you.”
“George would never hurt me.” She leapt toward Samantha, trying to come right across the table.
Blake shot to his feet, catching her shoulders. “You need to calm down, Ms. Miller.”
“Get your hands off me! You can’t touch me! I’ll have you brought up on charges! I’ll—”
“George didn’t want to hurt you. You wanted to hurt yourself. But you didn’t want to die.” Samantha’s low words carried right across Nina’s screams. “So you found a victim who was similar to you. And you got George to kill her...for you.”
Silence.
Samantha didn’t dare to breathe. Had she gone too far? Pushed too much? All of her instincts were screaming that she was correct but...
Maybe I’m not handling Nina the right way.
Blake slowly released the other woman. Nina didn’t sit. She stared at Samantha. Nina’s eyes were blank, glassy, like a doll’s.
“George made videos. Took photos. The killing gave him a rush. He got power from the attack.” Samantha kept talking because she knew there was no going back. She needed Nina to break. She needed her to slip up. Because I don’t have any footage linking her to the murders. No evidence at all. “And then he took another girl...and he killed her, too.”
Nina’s lips had clamped together. Her body was as stiff as a board.
Blake was still on his feet, but Samantha remained seated. She stayed in the seat to give Nina the feeling of control she knew the other woman wanted. Nina craved control and— “Did you know he took Missy Johnson?” Samantha asked her, tilting her head. “You were with him for the other attacks—I saw that in the pictures.” I can bluff all day long, Nina. “But you weren’t there when he took Missy.” She let her eyes widen. “He took her without you, didn’t he? George got a taste for that power rush and he—”
“The bastard should have waited for me!” Nina screamed. “I would have been there! I would have watched out for him—he would still be with me! But he took her...said he couldn’t wait. She was wrong, though. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I’d changed my hair and he didn’t even know. I wanted to try someone new. He didn’t know—you took him from me and he didn’t know—”
Once more, she came at Samantha.
And, once more, Blake was in her path. But this time, when Blake touched Nina, she collapsed, sobbing. Deep, wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.
For a moment, Samantha didn’t move at all. Shock chilled her skin. She confessed. I got her to confess.
Blake looked back at Samantha. A faint smile curved his lips and he stared at her with...pride?
Her chin lifted.
“I want a lawyer,” Nina whispered.
Ah, those desperate, guilty words. But they’d come too late. Samantha nodded as she rose to her feet. “We’ll make sure you have an attorney present right away.” She headed for the door, then, unable to help herself, she glanced back.
Nina was glaring at her.
“Count on it,” Samantha said.
Nina’s eyes flared and her hands—clawlike—lifted into the air as if she’d attack.
Samantha just kept walking.
Hell, yes. She’d done it.
Told you I’d have those secrets.
*
“YOU DIDN’T FIND evidence at George’s house, did you?” Blake asked her about an hour later, when they were both settled in their office on the fourth floor.
Samantha shook her head.
“Remind me to never play poker with you.”
“I’m fantastic at poker.”
He propped his hip on her desk and stared down at her. “I think you’re probably fantastic at a whole lot of things.”
You have no idea. She rose from her chair and moved closer to him.
He caught her hand and stared at the bandages that still covered her fingers. “I don’t like it when you get hurt because of me.”
She just shrugged. “I can handle a few blisters.”
His head cocked so that he was staring at her. “I bet you can handle nearly everything that comes your way.”
Not everything. She still wasn’t sure how to handle him.
His fingers slid over her wrist, then his hand fell away. “When do I get to hear your story, Samantha?”
She should move back. But she didn’t. Her skin was still icy and he seemed so warm. “My story?”
“Yeah. When do you tell me about those secrets that I see in your eyes?”
Blake, you don’t want to hear about those nightmares. Our job is hard enough.
“When...” he murmured. “When will you start to trust me the way you trust Cameron?”
Cameron was different. Cameron— A knock sounded on their office door. She jumped back—almost guiltily—as she turned to find the FBI executive assistant director standing there.
Bass nodded toward her. “Heard you got the confession this morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nice fucking job.”
From him, that was high praise, indeed.