Before The Dawn. Cynthia Eden
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The other still held the gun, but now the barrel was pointed down at the dock.
“She’s more of a fighter than I thought,” Jason murmured. “Sometimes, they don’t fight at all. They just beg.”
My brother is a monster. And Tucker had let this happen.
Dawn was clawing at Jason’s hand, but his brother didn’t even seem to feel the pain. He just stared straight at Tucker, that stupid smile on his face as he choked Dawn.
With his right hand, Tucker reached for the gun. But at the same time, his left hand came up in a rush—and he drove that knife straight at his brother’s chest.
Jason let out a bellow as he staggered back. He freed Dawn and she scrambled away.
Tucker snatched the gun from Jason. Then Tucker twisted that weapon around in a fast, practiced movement, aiming it at Jason even as his brother yanked the knife out of his chest.
“Don’t!” Tucker snarled when Jason took a lunging step toward him. Dawn had run down the dock, heading back toward the old cabin. “This is ending, right here. You aren’t hurting anyone else.” Dear God, Jason...how many people have you already hurt? He was afraid to find out that truth.
“You stabbed me.” His blood was dripping on the dock. “To save her, you stabbed me.” Fury burned in this words. Disbelief.
“I will kill you in order to save her.” Just so there was no confusion. But it doesn’t have to be this way. He moved his body, making sure to block the exit off that old dock, stopping any attempt Jason could make to charge after Dawn. “Jason, drop the knife.” Jason still gripped it tightly. “Drop the knife and put your hands up.”
Jason didn’t drop the knife. “What are you going to do? Call the cops? Play the hero?”
His phone was in the car. “Yeah, I’ll be calling the cops.”
“I said no cage!” That rage was getting hotter. “You know that! You know I can’t handle that!” And Jason laughed. A wild sound. “Just as I know you won’t kill me. You can’t. That knife barely even went into me. You weren’t trying. Just for show...”
He was coming forward.
Tucker couldn’t hear the thud of Dawn’s footsteps any longer. Where was she? “Don’t take another step.”
But Jason did. “I’m going to slice her all over. I’m going to make her beg.”
Tucker’s rage burned, too. “You aren’t touching her.”
“You’re going to help me. You’re going to be at my side, the way you always are. You understand me. You want the same things I want.”
Jason was a foot away from him.
Tucker shook his head. “I want Dawn.” He eased out a low breath. “Drop that knife, now.” But he knew Jason wasn’t going to do it. “Don’t—” he began, but it was too late. Jason had surged forward. He didn’t swing at Tucker with his knife. Tucker wasn’t his goal. He slammed his body into Tucker’s, shoving him out of the way.
Because Jason wants Dawn.
But Tucker wasn’t letting that happen. He caught his brother, held tight when Jason fought and then...
He fired.
The blast of that gun seemed deafening. For a moment after that terrible thunder, there was no sound at all. Even the insects had stopped chirping, as if they were afraid. Jason was staring at him, his face easy to see under the bright, full moon.
Shock.
Betrayal.
Then Jason was plunging that knife at Tucker, slicing down his arm, slicing his hand and trying to make Tucker drop the gun.
He didn’t drop it. Tucker fired again.
Jason staggered back.
“You won’t touch her again.”
Tucker fired once more. His brother was on the edge of the dock, he staggered back—
And fell into the water, sinking deep with a splash.
Seven years later...
SECOND CHANCES DIDN’T come around often. If a man was lucky enough to have one, then he should grab on to that opportunity and hold tight to it with every bit of strength that he had.
It was a good thing Tucker Frost was strong.
He hurried into the conference room at the FBI’s Washington, DC, office. It was early June and the sun glinted through the window, shining right through the blinds. The other agents were already inside, seated at the round table. Their laptops were out. Their manila files were open. Their phones were on the tabletop, probably already turned to mute.
He took the last seat, had his laptop out and open in seconds and was adjusting the volume on his phone when Samantha Dark delicately cleared her throat.
“I want to thank all of you for joining me on such short notice.”
The meeting had been called ten minutes ago. He’d been outside the building, already anticipating just how he’d be spending the weekend.
“I know that our unit is still in the development phase, but you were all handpicked to join this team because I know that you bring a unique set of skills and a perspective for targeting killers that others just can’t imitate.”
Her voice was low, calm, and she turned her golden stare on all of the agents at the table.
Samantha Dark.
He was damn glad she’d come back to the FBI. He’d always respected Agent Dark. From the very first moment that they’d met at Quantico, he’d known just how sharp she was. Samantha had been the profiler to watch, but when her ex-lover had turned out to be a vicious serial killer, she’d retreated, pulling away from everyone close to her. He’d hated that.
But Samantha was back now. She’d stopped not just one serial killer on her last case, but two, and since she’d also managed to save the life of the FBI’s executive assistant director, Justin Bass, she’d been given carte blanche to try her experimental unit.
“Some folks would say,” Samantha began as her stare turned pensive, “that we aren’t the best ones to profile killers. They’d say our personal connections to murderers are weaknesses.”
His jaw locked.
“But those people would be dead wrong.” She gave a grim nod. “The fact that we’ve had serial killers intimately involved in our lives means that we understand them like no other person can.” She paused. “They were friends. They were lovers.”
She’d taken down the lover who’d tried to hurt her and who had hurt so many others.
“They were family.” Now her golden stare came back to him.
Beneath the table, his hands fisted. Blood always comes first.
Then her stare tracked to the red-haired agent on his left, Macey Night. “They have been our tormenters.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Macey stiffen.
But then Samantha’s focus was on the last agent at that little table as she stared at Bowen Murphy and said, “And they have been our prey.”
Bowen inclined his head toward her.
“We have all been in life-and-death situations with serials. We know how dangerous they are. We don’t underestimate them. We see them from a unique perspective that no one else can fully appreciate.” She exhaled as she moved around the table. “And that perspective is going to help us. It will allow us to think outside of the box. It will allow us to notice things that others cannot.