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CHAPTER ONE

SAMANTHA DARK DIDN’T let her fear show In her job, there wasn’t supposed to be any rooot the job done—no matter the circumstances They didn’t let nausea twist in their stomachs They didn’t let doubt bloom in their minds

An FBI agent didn’t hold a weapon with too tight a grip with a pounding heart

But I am

Samantha tried to steady herself She forced herself to take a deep breath Her eyes never left the house nestled so perfectly on the little cul-de-sac The house with the tall, swaying pine trees in the front yard The house that had all the blinds pulled down to cover every single

It’s just a house Just a house on a street

“You ready, Samantha?’

At the deep, ruave a nod Her new partner, Blake Gaht at her side He didn’t seem scared, didn’t seem to be filled with reservation and apprehension—but then, from what she could tell, Blake didn’t have room for those kinds of emotions

She tore her gaze frolance his way Blake was tall, about six foot two—maybe three inches—and ht have played football back in the day, and his hard strength assured Samantha that her new partner worked out far more than the FBI required

He was handsoh cheeks, sensually curved lipsand the greenest eyes that she’d ever seen Those green eyes were a sharp contrast to his dark, aled black hair

Tall, dark and dangerous Only Blake wasn’t the bad guyhe was the good guy The real true-blue sort The kind of a guy that a person could count on The kind of partner you need at your side when you’re worried the situation is about to go straight to hell

She sed down her fear and lifted her chin “I’o into that little house, and waiting longer—well, that would just give the man inside a chance to either attack or flee

He won’t get away from me

George Farris lived in that quiet house on the cul-de-sac George Farrisa twenty-seven-year-old software designer A man who hadn’t shown up for work in the past two days and who had withdrawn froly paranoid behavior A man who

Fits my profile to a T

“You still think he has the victim in there?” Blake asked her

“Missy Johnson has beenfor two days” Her voice was barely a whisper “If he’s our guyhe has always kept the victims alive for seventy-two hours” That was the reason they werein on the house They couldn’t afford to waste time This was it

“Then let’s do this,” Blake said, his voice little ot your back”

They advanced toward the house She could see a car sitting in the driveway Her left hand touched the hood, found it warm Used recently, so our perp is probably inside It was late afternoon, and there wasn’t exactly a way to hide their advance with so little cover Those twisting pine trees weren’t going to cut it—

“Movehtened “Curtain near the right frontjust slid back He’s watching us”

And he’d either panic and try to run

Or he’d attack

Ihis huo down easy He—

The frontshattered and the lass “Go!” Samantha yelled “Weapon!”

She ducked and ran, even as Blake did the saround near her foot, and she felt the heat of another as it seeot to that front door even as bullets kept flying Blake was right behind her

“FBI!” Samantha shouted “Put down your weapon!”

If his victiun on her

She nodded toward Blake One powerful kick, and he had that door flying inward as the lock shattered beneath his foot She heard the frantic thud of footsteps running inside and then—

Sa him down just as a bullet sank into the wood near his head

“Fuck,” his deep voice rumbled

“You’re welcome,” she said, then jumped back to her feet