The coroner stopped in his tracks. Dr. Kayden Hubble gaped at her. “Debra? When did you get back in here? I searched this place for you twice and you?—”
“Lock it down,” she gritted from between her clenched teeth.
Dr. Hubble frowned at her. “What?”
“The whole facility…” Debra choked down her nausea. “Lock it down. He was here. The creep was here.”
“What?” The coroner seemed to have frozen to the spot.
“The perp who killed Bridget Russell! The asshole who kidnapped Preston Byron. He. Was. Here.” Eugene still had a tight grip on her arm. One growing tighter by the moment. “He attacked me.” Her free hand dropped to her waist. Her gun was gone. Dammit. “He sealed me up in the drawer.”
Dr. Hubble’s jaw dropped as his head swung toward the open drawer. “Dear God.”
“Lock it down!”
Eugene finally scrambled to obey.
But she feared the perp was already long gone. Nausea rose up again. The throbbing in her head got worse. The room began to spin. “I want…security footage…get me footage…”
Her knees crumpled. The last thing she saw was the flapping of the doc’s white lab coat as he lunged to catch her.
He missed. She hit the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“There’s nothing useful on the security footage.” Preston stood behind her, watching Sloane as she examined the video footage from the day of his abduction. Her abduction, too. Her stomach seemed to be in knots as she sat before him. Yes, she’d finally gotten around to viewing the video. After she’d managed to drag herself out of his bed that morning—I’m still wrapping my head around sex with Preston—they’d dressed, had a fast breakfast, then gotten to work.
The work in question? They were finding the killer. No one else was going to die. Not if she could help it.
They were currently downstairs, in one very plush office. Another room with windows everywhere. She was really starting to love the windows.
Preston leaned forward, putting one hand on the desk near where her own fingers covered the mouse. His crisp, masculine scent teased her nose, and the warmth of his body seemed to reach out toward her.
Something else she was really starting to love? Well, that just might be h?—
She stopped the thought. Hard. In its tracks.
They’d had incredible sex. Sex so good that she hadn’t thought that much pleasure was even possible. Clearly, she was riding some wild post-sex high that made her feel overly emotional where he was concerned. Yes, that was it. Had to be it. She was in a heightened state. There was no need to go putting labels on things. Certainly, no need to be thinking…
Maybe I can have a shot at a real life with someone. Someone who understands darkness. Who understands me. Someone who won’t expect me to flash fake smiles all the time and to pretend that I am just like everyone else.
His fingers covered hers.
She shivered.
“Here.” He pushed down on the mouse, starting the feed again. She’d already watched the feed once, and he’d been right, there hadn’t been anything particularly helpful to see. Unfortunately. But she wanted to watch it again, just to make sure there was nothing she’d missed.
In the feed on the monitor, Preston jogged forward. Black running shorts. White shoes. A large watch on his wrist. A smartwatch.
The delivery van pulled up behind him. Preston was turned away from the van at first, stretching, and the driver exited. A driver wearing a black ski mask. In the video, he ran up behind Preston. Drove a needle right into his neck even as Preston turned to swing at him.
Preston went down. The man in the ski mask peered at his unconscious body. Then he began dragging Preston and shoving his slumped form into the back of the van.
“There you come,” Preston murmured.
She winced. She’d come in like a tornado. Fists flying. Legs kicking. She’d jumped on the attacker’s back, but he’d shaken her off instantly.
The syringe fell to the ground.
