“Anya?” Heath asked. “Did you hear me?”
“No.” She turned and smoothed down her dark jeans. His eyebrows were drawn down. “Sorry. I was thinking too hard.”
He waited a beat before speaking again. With his faded jeans and dark green T-shirt, he looked powerful and masculine. “You don’t have to be here if you’re scared. I can put you somewhere safe while we wait for this guy.”
“That’s not the plan,” she said. Plus, wasn’t it the girl off being safe who always got kidnapped? Seriously. Had he never watchedBuffyorAngel? “We agreed the guy has to see me in here working and going up to bed.” She frowned. “But he’ll see you, too. All of his victims were taken when they were alone.” Although . . . wasn’t that even more of a challenge?
Heath nodded. “I’m betting something will happen to draw me away. This isn’t the type of guy to walk in shooting.”
“Wish he were,” Denver said.
“Definitely,” Anya agreed. “He shoots, we shoot back, and it’s over.” It definitely wouldn’t be that easy.
She wandered over to her temporary desk, sat, and reached for a stack of files. Victim files. She filtered through them, rereading the killer’s moves, seeing the damage he’d created.
So much blood, fear, and death. Her mind fuzzed while she tried to focus. Smart. She needed to be smart here. Taking several deep breaths, she opened the file she’d copied from the profilers. “The profilers disagree. One thinks the killer is two men, while the other is sure it’s one brilliant psychopath.”
Heath was using some handheld device while wandering around the room. Every once in a while, the box would ding in his hand, and he’d nod. “I read those. My guess is it’s one guy. Makes more sense.”
Anya kept reading. “I still agree. Midthirties, white, highly educated but isolated.” Weren’t many serial killers in that demographic? She kept reading, not finding anything concrete to use in trying to find the guy. “I went through my notes and files again. I just can’t figure out who he is. How I met him.”
Heath kept moving around the room. “If you met him. It could be somebody you passed on the street who formed an obsession. Right?” A low thread of tension was in his tone, and his energy rolled through the room, taking over the entire atmosphere.
“Yes. These guys live in their own fantasy world.” Anya shifted her body on the chair. Goose bumps rose along her arm. She tried to calm her breathing and fight the sensation that she was about to crawl out of her own skin.
Zara entered the front of the office with Ryker covering her back. She held several copies of the newspaper. “Well, you made the front page of the business section.” Dusting snow off her shoulders, she continued to Anya’s desk and dropped the business page in front of her. “With a full picture of Anya and Heath in their happy engagement glow along with clear directions to Lost Bastards Investigative Services.”
Heath swore quietly but kept moving around the room with his device.
Anya looked down at her friendly expression staring back as the new face of Lost Bastards. Heath had his arm possessively around her shoulder, and they looked happy. Well. That was that, then. “The reporter made a big deal about our engagement. Oh, the killer is going to take this as a slap in the face—and now with a countdown because I’m leaving town and he won’t be able to find me.”
Zara breathed out, lines fanning from her eyes. “That was the plan, right?”
Anya swallowed over a lump in her throat. “Yeah. That was the plan.”
CHAPTER
31
After Zara cooked blackened salmon for dinner, Heath finished checking the sensors one last time. There wasn’t anything else to do but wait.
He hated waiting.
Ryker and Zara then headed to bed for a few hours of sleep before things heated up, while Denver jogged around the perimeter to make sure everything was still in place. Cameras, sensors, and escape vehicles. Anya had gone upstairs to continue reading her files.
The picture of them in the paper should’ve pushed the killer hard—but the timeline of her leaving town . . . Well, now. That set a deadline.
The itch between Heath’s shoulder blades wouldn’t ease. As always, instinct ruled. Something or somebody was coming. Either that or he’d keyed himself up so much that he was losing his edge. Considering all he could think about was the woman upstairs preparing herself to be hunted by a killer, that was entirely possible.
Denver shoved the door open and shook his hair. Snow went flying. “FBI and local cops are staking out the business.”
“I figured.” Heath frowned. “Have we made it too hard for the guy to get inside?”
“No. He likes a challenge.” Denver locked the door and moved past the reception area. “My guess is he’ll make a move early tomorrow morning. When we’re strung tight and tired of waiting.”
“We’re missing something.” Heath moved to the window and stared into the darkness outside. He could sense the cops out there. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel it. We’re missing something.” Maybe he should’ve put Anya and Zara in the hidden headquarters with Ryker as guard. But the killer would’ve seen them leaving the building. This was a good plan. It had to be.
“Stop second-guessing. The plan is good,” Denver echoed.
