Page 52 of The Killer She Knew

Her finger slipped from the trigger. No matter how much he tried to goad her into making a move, she wouldn’t shoot an unarmed suspect. “Then why hasn’t he?”

“You don’t think he’s tried?” Dean lowered his hands to his sides. Unarmed but all too dangerous. This was a game. Another way to manipulate her. While he hadn’t asked her to alibi him all those years ago, he’d known she would try to protect him. The same way she’d tried to protect her father against false allegations. He’d used her trauma and heartache, used her feelings for him, to get away with murder. But she wouldn’t give him the opportunity again. “He wants me to suffer. And he knows the way to do that is to hurt you.”

Lies. It was all lies. She knew that. So why couldn’t she force herself to do what needed to be done? Knock him out, secure him. Build the case against him.

Dean took a step forward then.

She countered, her grip on her weapon tightening. Her throat ached with an awareness she didn’t want to give him. She couldn’t make sense of any of this. “Don’t. Move.”

He didn’t follow instructions this time. Dean raised one hand toward her, setting it on the end of her weapon. The weight of that touch dragged the barrel down his frame, and she couldn’t convince herself to bring it back up. “You know me. You know I would never hurt you.”

A thousand questions raced to the tip of her tongue, but she clung to the grip of her weapon with both hands. Willing herself to do something—anything—other than latch on to those words.Because they weren’t true. “I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

“Then why haven’t you put me under arrest?” His shoulders dropped, making himself an easy target. Waiting for her to make a choice.

“You’ve been on the run for eighteen years. Why come back?” She was stalling, and they both knew it. Ford would wake up. She’d have a reason not to make this choice alone. “Why now?”

“You know why,” he said. “Your brain is screaming at you not to trust me, but deep down, you know I would never hurt you. You loved me once, Leigh. I know you did, and some part of you still trusts me. Otherwise, you would’ve already put me in cuffs.”

“I’m fresh out at the moment.” Probably not a great idea to let that one slip, but it was the truth. An excuse. “Though I’m sure Marshal Ford would be more than happy to lend me a pair.”

A growl vibrated through Dean’s chest, and a thrill shot through her at the realization she could frustrate him. “That’s the kind of guy you go for these days? The kind who lets himself get distracted by a pretty face in the middle of an investigation? He can’t protect you, little rabbit. I can.”

Protect her? He had to be kidding.

“Stop calling me that. You lost the right to care what kind of guy I go for when you left me in your dorm room in the middle of the night after I alibied you to avoid a murder charge.” Logic slammed back into place. Leigh raised her weapon level with his chest. Her arms shook from holding the weight, but she’d make sure he never hurt anyone ever again. Including her. “And I don’t need protection. Now get on your knees and lace your hands behind your head.”

“Leigh, you need to listen.” He dared another step toward her, but she was done playing whatever game he’d recruited her into. Dean pulled up short as she grabbed his wrist andmaneuvered him to the floor. He went willingly. “You’re making a mistake.”

“And I’m supposed to ignore the fact you happen to be here the same time four bodies drop?” Pressing her knee into his back, she held on to his wrists with one hand and holstered her weapon with the other. Leigh lowered her mouth to the shell of his ear. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, Dean. You manipulated me and my emotions all those years ago. You convinced me you gave a shit about me, but it won’t work again.” She added more than a few inches between them. Physically. Emotionally. “Dean Groves, you are under arrest for the murder of Alice Dietz, Tamra Hopkins, Pierce Morrow, and maybe an unidentified dead guy I found in the basement. You have the right?—”

“I’m sorry, little rabbit. But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Dean ripped out from underneath her in a full body roll.

Her knee slammed into the floor, hands burning from where his skin rubbed into her palm. Leigh put herself between him and the exit and went for her weapon a second time. The barrel cleared the holster. Just as his foot landed square against her chest.

The doorknob cut into her lower back as she launched backward. Air crushed from her chest. Her lungs spasmed, and she overcorrected. The industrial carpet rushed to meet her face. Boots planted in her vision, and Leigh latched on before he could get away.

She pulled his balance out from under him. Dean’s body thudded hard beside her, but he was already getting back to his feet. Shoving upright, Leigh rocketed her left fist at his face. Blocked. Then her right. He blocked that, too, as though he could read her mind each time she made her move.

He targeted her left shoulder. Knowing exactly where to strike.

Blinding pain speared down her arm and up into her neck, seizing on to her spine with an electrifying shock. Her scream ricocheted off the walls. Doubling over, she latched on to her shoulder in an attempt to keep it attached to her body. The barely healed knife wound she’d sustained during her last case throbbed out of control. “For claiming you don’t… want to hurt me, you’re doing a very bad job.”

“To be fair, you’re not making this easy.” His shoulders heaved. Showing her she’d gotten to him as easily as he’d gotten to her. Good. She’d use that against him.

“Are you flirting with me?” Forcing herself upright, she caught sight of her weapon between them. She could make it. He had the muscle, but it would slow him down as long as her shoulder stayed in place. “Not sure if you realize it, but we broke up when you vanished. I’ve moved on. Easily, I might add.”

Another lie for the ages, but he didn’t need to know how hard it’d been to even think about getting into a relationship after he’d abandoned her. Asshole.

“You don’t trust me. I get it.” Dean shook his head. “But I’m not going to have your death on my hands because you’re too stubborn to see the truth.”

He went for the gun.

Leigh launched forward. Too late. The gun’s grip slipped from her grasp. Putting her on the wrong end of her own weapon. Fear skittered through her veins. One pull of the trigger. That was all it would take to rip her life apart. And she’d given him the power to do it all over again. “If you shoot me, you’ll have the entire FBI and the Marshals Service coming for you. No amount of hiding will save you this time.”

“You don’t have to trust me.” Dean’s aim remained steady as he maneuvered around her, toward the door. He pried the onlyexit open. Then tossed her weapon at her feet. “You just have to survive.”

In an instant, he was gone.

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