The Heart of A Killer (42 page)
Anna’s eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t know. We’ll never know.”
“And how could none of us see it?” Gabe asked.
“We saw what he wanted us to see,” Dante said.
“Serial killers and psychopaths are good at hiding who they really are. They can appear so normal,” Anna said. “That’s what’s so scary about them.”
“I guess.” Gabe crouched and kissed the top of Anna’s head. “I wouldn’t want your job, honey. You deal with some fucked-up people.”
Dante pulled her against him. “You did good. You kept him sane until we got here.”
“I was a victim once,” she said, feeling nothing as she stared down at Roman’s body. “Never again.”
She realized as the teams came in to work the scene that through it all she hadn’t once had a panic attack.
Huh. Maybe she was getting tougher. Finally.
It was now or never. Decisions had to be made.
It had been a week since Roman’s case had been wrapped up, and Dante had no reason to still be here. He’d given his statements. All the loose ends had been tied with a big, fat bow. Anna had ended up getting eight stitches in her arm. The cut hadn’t been too deep. Thank God. Seeing Roman slash her with that knife had made his heart stop. He still relived that moment over and over again.
Damn, she’d been brave.
But now it was over.
He could go back to work. His work. His job. Wherever he wanted to go, because he had that level of freedom. Or not go, if he so chose, because he had that freedom, too. He’d put in his time. Death-defying time.
He could go back to it if he wanted. He’d always loved his job, as harrowing as it was sometimes.
Or he could stay here.
Only one person could help him make that decision, and they’d danced around talking about it for seven damn days now.
He was still staying at Anna’s place and she seemed to be content with that, hadn’t kicked him out, hadn’t asked him to stay.
Actually, she hadn’t said a goddamn thing at all. She’d done her job, filed her reports, been debriefed, given her interviews. At night she came home with him and they made love and talked about everything
except
the fact that he should probably be leaving.
For some reason by the time they came home, they were too tired to do anything other than eat and climb into bed.
And once in bed? Yeah, deep conversation was over. All they wanted was each other, and that required very few words.
So he decided he was going to talk to her at the precinct today. He’d corner her in the coffee room if he had to, but they were going to settle this once and for all.
Maybe she was tired of him and she wanted him to leave, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so she was waiting for him to grab a clue and get the fuck out of town. Maybe the bad memories would never go away for her, and he was part of the past she didn’t want to relive over and over again.
Was he that dense he just couldn’t see it?
And maybe he hadn’t said anything himself because he didn’t want to hear those words from her.
But she’d said she loved him.
And he said he loved her.
But sometimes that wasn’t enough to build a foundation on.
Shit.
Quit being a pussy and just go get it over with
.
He marched into the office and saw her sitting at her desk, rubbing her brow. She was busy. He could come back later.
He hesitated. Then pushed his feet forward and stopped at her desk. “I need to talk to you.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m working on a case, Dante.”
He hauled her out of her chair. “Now.”
She glared at him, then her arm where he held her. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“We’re having a coffee break.”
He led her into the coffee room and shut the door.
“First, do not ever manhandle me like that again.”
“I love you.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I love you, too.” Then she frowned. “What is this about?”
“It’s time for me to leave.”
“Oh.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “So are you leaving?”
“I don’t know. Am I?”
Her brows rose. “I’m not your mother.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t make the decisions for you. Last time I looked you were a grown-up. So are you leaving or aren’t you?”
Damn, the woman infuriated him. “I guess not.”
“Fine, then.”
“Fine.”
This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. She seemed irritated. And he was pissed off.
Time to regroup. “Anna. Let’s start over. I love you. I want to marry you. I want to have lots of babies with you. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay. Do you want me to stay? Will you marry me and live with me and have kids with me?”
Her eyes looked as if they were going to pop right out of her head.
“Uh, what did you just say?”
He cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms. “You’re going to make me repeat it?”
“Okay. No. Wait. You love me. I know you love me. But you want to do the whole marriage-and-babies thing?”
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
“I don’t know. Yes. No. I don’t know. Everything about you surprises me, Dante.”
He came over to her and put his hands on her hips. “I want a family, Anna. I never had one until you and the Clemonses and the guys. And I came back after twelve years and I had it again and almost lost all of you. I almost lost you. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to lose you again. I want to have a place to call home. I want to have kids. I want to put down roots, not travel all over the world. And I want to do all of that with you.”
Her lips quirked. “You do?”
“Yes, I do.”
“What will you do for a living? Not much call for black ops in St. Louis.”
He arched a brow. “Do you know that for sure?”
She punched his arm. “Seriously.”
“Well, I hear the FBI is interested in hiring me for their local field office.”
“Are you kidding?” She snorted.
“I’m not kidding. Based on my outstanding qualifications, I can pretty much write my own ticket.”
“Your current…uh…employer will let you do that?”
“Yes. They’ll let me go.”
He’d been making inquiries. Plans. About their future together. Anna had never thought much about marriage and family. She’d figured she’d be married to her job as a detective for the rest of her life.
Until Dante had swept back into her life and turned it all upside down and sideways.
She’d gotten used to having him in her bed at night, and at her kitchen table for coffee and breakfast in the morning.
And she didn’t intend to let him walk out of her life again.
She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. “I love you. Let’s get married and make babies.”
“When?”
“I’m free this weekend and I’ve never been to Vegas.”
He drew her against him and kissed her in a way she would never tire of being kissed. Wholly, and with his entire heart. When he drew back, he said, “I like Vegas.”
This time when her scar throbbed, it was because her heart was beating so damn fast she felt as if her chest would explode.
Now whenever she touched her heart, it would be because it was filled with love.
The past was dead. She was so ready for the future.
Acknowledgments
To Linda McFall, for believing in me enough to make this happen. Thank you for this.
To my editor, Krista Stroever, for your wonderful ideas, brilliant brainstorming and infinite patience in driving this book to its conclusion. Thank you!
To my agent, Kimberly Whalen, for getting me there, keeping me there and calming the waters along the way. I couldn’t do this without you.
To my friends who are my rock every day—Shannon Stacey, Maya Banks and Angela James—thank you for letting me vent, throw things, cry and whine incessantly. Having friends I know I can count on means more to me than I can possibly say. You’re the absolute best.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1520-7
THE HEART OF A KILLER
Copyright © 2011 by Jaci Burton
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