It had been the same at each of the other crime scenes. Perhaps this victim had felt safe enough to leave her doors unlocked? But not all of the women had lived in such casual neighborhoods.
Which meant that they had to be inviting him in. Or he had keys.
Grey gritted his teeth at the all-too-familiar theories, wishing his brain would pick up something new. An unsub who had killed in four states in as many months would need access to a chain of inter-state businesses to maintain local professional ties in all of these cities. But Liza, Grey’s technical analyst, hadn’t found evidence of any victims having recent contact with professionals who had access to their customers’ keys.
And when a tech as good as Liza found nothing, there was usually nothing to find.
Maybe Grey would get lucky and something about this poor woman would finally give him a bead on the bastard.
A faint sound interrupted Grey’s musings, and his eyes narrowed as they scanned the surrounding darkness for its source. A lone figure approached along the sidewalk. The moon slid from behind a cloud, its light gilding strawberry blonde hair, and revealing the most incredible woman Grey had ever seen.
Tall and lithe, she moved with the grace of a panther. Her sheath dress clung to her lean curves, flaring to a stop at mid-thigh, and showcasing toned legs with a sexy bronzed glow. Her eyes flashed with awareness as she slowed her walk, her full lips gleaming beneath the caress of her tongue—as if she was tasting the air for danger.
Grey’s heart jumped inside his chest and he inhaled sharply. Her eyes flew toward the pool of shadows in the yard, zeroing in on him. Though he knew she couldn’t possibly see him from her vantage point.
He stood immobile, staring at her in fascination and feeling an odd pang of regret as she moved forward, seeming to dismiss his presence.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Scarlett’s pulse sped up as she scanned her surroundings. She felt, more than saw, a lone man standing motionless in the next yard. Adrenaline spiked in her blood, fueled by anger.
This was the first moment of peace she’d had all day. She’d be damned if she let another human ruin it. She moved closer, pretending as if she didn’t see him. Then she stopped and pivoted on her heel, her stance defensive as she faced him.
“Do you make a habit of hiding in the bushes and spying on women?” she demanded.
Chocolate brows rose in surprise above dark eyes brimming with intelligence. He recovered quickly and flashed her a chagrinned smile, revealing an intriguing dimple in an otherwise smooth cheek. As her vision adjusted to the gloom, she saw that he had a trim, muscular physique and skin the color of coffee with a hint of cream.
“Do you make a habit of walking the streets alone at night?” he countered. “This isn’t the safest place to be,” he added, his expression turning grim.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at his change in tone. He had a familiar scent about him. Her nose tingled with recognition as she realized it was a pungent combination of herbs that her people used to make a particularly potent sleeping draught—a Morpheus potion.
Her body tensed. “Is that a threat?”
He gave her an odd look. “No, I’m …”
He reached into his pocket as he spoke, and she leapt at him before he could complete the sentence. She wasn’t about to give him a chance to dose her with Morpheus.
Grey grunted in shock as the woman came at him full force, sweeping his leg and sending him crashing to the ground. She landed atop him with one arm braced against his neck. Her other hand rose in a powerful arc behind her head, and he had a split second to realize that it was clenched around a stiletto heeled shoe.
With the pointy end aimed at his face.
Years of martial arts training kicked in, and he sent an uppercut flying into her ribs. He took advantage of her surprised gasp and deflected her chokehold, flipping her onto her back.
Then she began to fight in earnest.
They rolled across the lawn in a wild tussle of limbs, each landing punches heavy enough to bruise bone and steal breath. She refused to be subdued, and he realized with shock that she might be able to best him in a fight.
“FBI,” he panted, groaning as she landed a brutal blow to his kidney. “I wasn’t threatening you. I was trying to show you my badge. I’m FBI.”
He rolled off of her and held up his hands, hoping she would accept the truce. But he kept his elbows tucked into a defensive position just in case she wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy.
She leapt to her feet, nimble as a cat, and took a step backward. Her wary eyes never left his face as she towered over him.
“Do you want to see my badge?” he asked, pointing to his pocket. When she didn’t respond, he slowly reached for it, keeping one hand up in supplication.
She took another step back, almost stumbling on one of the garden gnomes. Her face was smudged with dirt and her fancy dress was probably ruined. But her sharp, sea-green gaze tracked his every move.
“I’m Special Agent Greyson Derrington,” he explained. “I’m investigating a murder that occurred here two days ago. That’s why I said it wasn’t safe for you to walk alone at night.”
He watched her face as her mind processed his words. She glanced at his badge, but seemed to be more interested in discerning the truth from his eyes. The tension she held in her muscles relaxed and he felt his own tension begin to drain away.
“Who are you?” he asked, still incredulous that she’d almost beaten him at hand to hand combat. She was a skilled fighter, and quite possibly the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. It was a dangerous combination.
“My name is Scarlett Thresher,” she answered softly.
Desire shot through his groin at the intense way she held his stare as the musical cadence of her Irish brogue washed over him.
She retreated another step and shook her head, silky strands of hair caressing her cheek where they’d escaped from their array of pins. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” she murmured, looking as bewildered as he felt.
She bent to grab her shoes, then turned and fled back up the sidewalk, slipping away into the darkness before he could formulate a protest.
Grey sat back on his haunches in the grass, stunned. A shimmer of light caught his eye, and he reached down to pick up an earring with a large teardrop diamond glistening in a gold setting. He’d seen its mate resting against the delicate earlobe of the amazing woman he’d just let get away.
He stuck it in his pocket, wincing at the twinge in his ribs. She’d kicked his ass and then bolted without so much as an explanation. He wasn’t sure whether to feel impressed, offended…or turned on.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Scarlett ran, her legs pumping faster and faster, her mind a haze of confusion. She faltered to a stop when she found herself back at the docks by the wedding reception.
Agent Greyson Derrington of the FBI, her brain whispered as she made her way over the wooden planks and past the row of tiki torches. He’d said he was investigating a murder, so he must be part of the human police force.
She puffed at the loose hair on her cheek as she pushed open the door to the building. A cool blast of air hit her, drying the perspiration on her forehead. Scarlett grimaced as she realized what a mess she must look with her sweaty face, torn dress and bare feet.
She sprinted for the washrooms, avoiding the gazes of the other guests, and hurried through the door with the crepe-paper bride taped to it. She locked herself in the largest stall with the sink and steadied her hands on the basin as she tried to calm down.
She couldn’t believe what