Walk In My Shadow: A Gripping Romantic Thriller (Mirror Book 3): A Mirror Novel (19 page)

"
H
ey
, you all right?" Abby asked when Vance came through the door. She'd been lying on her couch, waiting for him to come home. It had taken a lot for her to not march over to Teige's and find him.

But she knew the work she'd been doing with Ward, Jacoby and Kayla was important, and she also knew that once Kayla got home, Vance would come back.

"I'm fine."

"How's my brother?" she asked.

"Hanny's cool," was all he said.

"It went that well, then."

"Abby, he's worried about you. He's right to. I'd probably wonder about him if he didn't hate me," Vance admitted. "And don't get up." He kicked off his shoes and settled into the couch next to her, allowing her to mold herself against his warm, hard body. He shifted and then they were the perfect fit, holding each other, face to face.

"Sorry we woke you up," she told him.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about."

"It was worth it."

"You look beat, Abby."

She felt it too, sore, as if she'd gone through some kind of bizarre hazing ritual in which she'd been forced to relive some of the worst times of her life through a killer's eyes. She'd rarely put herself in that position, because she knew how dangerous, how oddly addicting it could be. "I'll be fine. Just hold me." When his arms tightened around her, she asked, "You know what I keep wondering?"

"What's that?"

"What's the stalker’s endgame? He's got power—maybe he had a hand in creating the Whitelist or he’s just given the power to recruit. A finder, like you said. Either way, why did he feel the need to destroy the man he was supposed to recruit?" she mused. "It's not making sense, unless he feels he's not getting the respect he deserves."

"You mean from the men—and women—he's put on the Whitelist?" Vance asked and she nodded. “We don’t know if the stalker was responsible for more men than just Ethan at the time.”

"True. You said Ethan knew about the Whitelist, knew he was on it.”

"I'd say the majority of the people on that list are major players. They'd probably get themselves into the CIA because of the work they did. This Whitelist just gives that extra edge—and it allows the top brass to nudge agents toward where they're best suited."

"I know you've been trying to remove yourself from the CIA. Are you doing that purposely? To piss the stalker off sufficiently enough to get him to come after you?" Vance stilled, and she had her answer. "Bring me into the plan. I'm sure that you and Teige are trying to come up with something. Don't bother denying it. I've been thinking about this anyway—we'll act like we're going away to get married or something—running off together. Maybe he'll get pissed. He probably saw me as some kind of roadblock with Ethan, but now? Now he'll see me as leading you far away from him, and his easy access. It'll be harder for him to track you when you're not on the CIA's payroll, right?"

"That's the theory," he murmured. "I'm still not comfortable with you doing this."

"I'm not comfortable with you dying, Vance," she said softly. "Please."

"You do cut right to the heart of the matter."

"No reason not to." She paused. "Kayla thinks that I'm putting my professional hat on because that's easier," she admitted.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Vance pressed.

"It means…I'm scared."

He nodded slowly. "I get that."

"I'm not scared of the stalker. I'm scared of losing you. I'm scared you'll realize at the end of all of this that I'm not who you wanted."

He gave her a small smile. "You gonna run from me?" he asked, and when she shrugged, he said, "Go ahead."

"Excuse me?"

"Run, Abby. I don't mind the chase. Because if you think I'm going to let you hand me this bullshit—"

"It's not bullshit!"

"—and just let you stroll away, you picked the wrong guy."

"Technically, I didn't pick you."

"You picked me up in a bar."

Shit.
"I thought you'd be a perfect one-night stand."

"And that's why you came back a second night. In a row."

Damn him.
"Vance—"

"I want to give you something you're not used to, and I plan to do so. Got it? No more 'fine.' No more 'temporary' and no more 'getting by' and 'living in the moment.' That last one's
fine
until you wake up one morning alone and realize you've used it as an excuse to keep everyone and everything at arm's length."

Her breath caught in her throat, because he was right.

They wanted the same things…but they had the same thing stopping them from getting it. They'd gotten past her history with Ethan, but the thought of coming to terms with the fact that, one day, this stalker could end them? And do so physically, yes, but worse than that, emotionally—break them down in a million, painful little ways, bleed their emotions raw until nothing was left but a hollow, useless shell just waiting for death.

That's exactly what her father was when he invited the Black Magic Killer into their home.

That's exactly what she'd promised herself she'd never be. "Okay," she said finally.

"Okay what?"

"Give me more than fine, Vance. More than temporary."

Vance smiled at her, tugged her close. "I'll start right now."

“
I
’ve got
a proposition for you.” Leila propped on her elbow, obviously naked and very much in his bed, in his apartment, uninvited.

Knox leaned against the doorjamb and studied her. He didn’t bother asking how she’d gotten into his locked building and past his elaborate security system. There probably wasn’t one built she couldn’t get through, and that both comforted him and scared the fuck out of him.

And that last part? Definitely turned him on. “You naked in my bed is an invitation, not a proposition, babe.”

She smiled. “I’ve got another invitation. Come work for me.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d made that offer, but definitely the most tempting, given the timing and the current climate at the CIA. “
For
you?”

“If you want me to say ‘with me,’ you’d have to have a trial run with the business.” She tilted her head, studying him. “But that’s not out of the question.”

His immediate thought was to stop talking, strip and join her. And maybe even as late as last night, he would’ve. But his need to help Vance won out over bed, because the more he pitched in, the faster they could smoke out the asshole stalking him.

He shook his head, told her gently, “We’ve had a good ride, babe, but I think I’ve got to go it alone.”

Her smile was rueful as she slid out of bed and put her wrap dress on over her naked body. She slid into her heels, picked up her bag and walked toward him, hips swaying as if she’d expected his answer.

She cupped his cheek against a cool palm. “It’s always a good ride with you, Knox. Always will be,” she murmured. “You know how to reach me. And I know you will.”

He stared after her for a brief moment, finally realizing she didn’t know him at all.

A
bby woke
with a start the next morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply or so well, and she supposed that good sex on a regular basis, plus a baring of the soul, went a long way toward a peaceful slumber.

Still, under the current circumstances both she and Vance were facing, five straight hours of shut-eye was pretty goddamned amazing.

On the other hand, it appeared that Vance hadn’t gotten the same amount of sleep. His side of the bed was cold, as if he’d vacated it a while ago. She didn’t smell coffee brewing and it was very quiet.

Too quiet.

Shit.

She was up, weapon by her side, prowling the house instead of calling for Vance.

He was nowhere to be found. His shoes were gone, as was his phone and wallet, which meant he’d gotten dressed before he’d left. So he wasn’t dragged out of her house unconscious—he’d snuck out.

She held her weapon by her side and scanned the downstairs again. She caught sight of the paper by the front door, looking like it had fallen over at some point.

Or maybe it had simply been slid under the door.

Either way, she forced herself to take the time to put her gloves on before picking it up to read it.

A
bby
—

We both know deep down that this can’t work. I’ve got to handle this shit on my own, and the best way to do it is to leave you here, safe and sound, and go hunting. Just like Ethan did.

I’ll get him, Abby. Just please, for me, stay safe. Be well. Don’t follow me. This was hard enough as it is.

Love,

Vance

* * *

“
I
don’t believe it
,” Abby insisted ten minutes later as Teige, Jacoby and Kayla all stood in front of her reading the same note. “My gut says this note is bullshit.

“But he’s told you this before, yes?” Teige asked, never one to couch his thoughts, especially when time was of the essence. “I know he’s mentioned the same sentiment to me.”

“This.” She shook the note at him. “Is a lie. Don’t question that, Teige.”

Teige held his hands up in silent surrender. “Done.”

Jacoby clapped his hands together. “Let’s move on. How much of a head start does he have on us?”

Abby mentally calculated. “I fell asleep with him after three in the morning. And then he got up a little later—twelve minutes after four—because he was thirsty. I fell right back to sleep.”

“So you don’t know if he got back into bed after that,” Jacoby said.

“No, I don’t.”

“I think you’d know if he did. Let’s say he’s been MIA since four twelve this morning. It’s nine forty-five a.m. T-minus…” He checked his watch, calculating the amount of time a serial killer would hold their prey. The amount of time between a kidnapping and a killing.

It was part conjecture, part fact, backed by years of FBI profiling statistics.

Basically, it was “a wing and a prayer” time.

“Abby, listen—Vance is strong. He hadn’t been beaten down the way Ethan was,” Jacoby told her. “He knows what he’s up against.”

He might, but the guilt he carried over Ethan was an immense weight that could drag him under.

He won’t let it
, she demanded of the universe fiercely. To Jacoby, she said, “I didn’t hear any helicopters land on the roof. His bike is still here. Someone took him—I’ll run the security cams and see if it caught any cars on the street.” “I’ll check flight plans for the general vicinity,” Teige said, already on both the computer and phone simultaneously.

She refused to go there. She would concentrate on driving distance. Places that meant something to Vance.

“Did you call Knox?” Kayla asked her now.

“No—let me text him. He’ll come quickly.” Abby did so, and as she waited for a response, she said, “Vance would’ve fought,” as much to herself as to Kayla.

“Unless they’re threatening him with someone,” Kayla said, and the men turned to look at her. “Maybe this person has help. A hire, who doesn’t know anything more than ‘when I call, execute this plan.’” They all continued staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s good,” Jacoby told her.

“I read,” she sniffed and waved at all of them. “And I listen to all you people when I’m not supposed to.”

* * *

A
bby went
onto the back porch to think, leaving the three of them to go over their theories and do what they needed to on the computer and phones. They were helping, doing what they could, but she needed a few moments of solitude to let all the information she had download and sort itself out.

Knox still hadn’t called or texted. She stared at her phone, knowing that something had happened to Knox as well.

“He’s probably with that chick who’s in town,” Teige had said a few minutes earlier.

“What chick?”

“Her name’s Leila. She’s a former operative.”

“And he trusteed her?”

“From what Vance told me, Knox saved her life. Granted, she did try to kill him first, but hey, he’s seen her twice this week and she didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives,” Teige had added.

“Her,” Abby repeated, out loud to herself. Why hadn’t she considered that? She’d been so focused, so sure that the stalker was a he that she, of all people, missed the obvious.

But before she could turn to go inside to inform the others, she heard the low click of a Glock being primed. She looked up to see a tall, dark-haired woman with her finger on the trigger.

“Hi, Abby. I’m Leila. You’ll need to come with me.”