Dangerous

  Dangerous is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A Loveswept eBook Original

  Copyright © 2015 by Patricia Pinianski

  Excerpt from Control by Laura Marie Altom copyright © 2014 by Laura Marie Altom

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN 9780553392548

  Cover photograph: iStock

  www.readloveswept.com

  v4.0

  ep

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Control

  Chapter One

  Frustration filled Camille Martell when she checked the list of people logged into the “come and get some” chat room, her nickname for the Chicago area dating site Meet ’n’ Greet, where she’d found Angel. The scum wasn’t there now. Obsessed with stopping the sexual predator who’d murdered at least two young women he’d seduced via the Internet, she’d been spending every waking hour away from the job hunting him on her home computer.

  “Damn it! C’mon, you bastard, where are you? Show yourself!”

  As if her demand zapped him through the ether, his avatar—a dark angel holding a sword—appeared.

  “Yes!” Her adrenaline surged, and she quickly logged in as Morrigan, the old college photo identifying her as a twenty-one-year-old redhead. Exactly Angel’s type. He didn’t have a clue she was a cop.

  Max nudged her leg and whistled through his nose.

  Patting the dog’s big, scruffy body, she absently murmured, “Good boy,” as she tensed watching the parade of messages scroll up her screen.

  BigMan: anyone wanna talk with me will show photo

  Cougar: let’s see your photo first—not your face, BIG man!

  hotgirl: camshows $10/10 minutes skype hotgirl69

  Camille’s gaze flicked to the column of sign-ins. Angel was there but not interacting. She’d engaged him twice in the last two days. He’d been flirting carefully with her, like he had been testing her. He knew she was here. What was he waiting for?

  She took a big breath. “C’mon, c’mon!”

  Unable to wait for it, she took the lead.

  Morrigan: Hey, Angel.

  Angel: how’s it playing?

  Morrigan: Bored ’n’ lonely

  Angel: sorry

  Morrigan: You can fix

  Would he take the bait? Say he wanted to meet? Her pulse fluttered through her as she waited for his reply.

  Cougar: woo-wee, angel, she’s comin’ on to ya

  Angel: r u, M? what you wanna do with me?

  She’d like to do all kinds of nasty things to a lowlife like him, but she’d settle for cuffing him and bringing him in. She thought about saying something sexual, but instinct told her to play it cool.

  Morrigan: Just wanna talk…to start…

  BigMan: let’s you ’n’ me talk, honey—skype name?

  Morrigan: With Angel only! IM Morrigan22

  Camille held her breath as she waited to see if Angel would use it.

  Angel: gotta go ttyl

  An instant message popped up on her screen, but it was from the guy who called himself BigMan. Camille ignored it. Her hands curled into fists, she sat staring at the monitor, willing Angel to IM her. If he got the mental message, he was ignoring it. Had she played it too cool? Should she have lured him in with the promise of something more than talk?

  Another failed attempt. Her adrenaline crashed, deflating her once more.

  “Damn it!”

  She wanted to punch something.

  Max was still sitting there, staring at her, and she realized she hadn’t fed him. Thankfully, she’d hired Sandy Kawecki, the teenage girl who lived next door, to walk Max after school, so he didn’t need to go out right away. She hadn’t meant to have a dog with her busy schedule, but the bruiser had been a pitiful sight on the street barking in terror at anything that went by. That had been barely a month ago. She’d tried to find his owner, and when that had proved impossible, then she’d thought she could find him a good home. He’d found hers instead.

  For the last few weeks after getting home from work, she’d gone directly to the computer, since she’d been unable to conduct her search at the office. Each time she wished Angel would IM, but wishing wasn’t going to make it happen, so she pushed away from her desk and headed for the kitchen, the dog following close on her heels.

  “Hungry?”

  His big brown eyes hopeful, Max whined and licked his chops.

  Patting his side, she fetched a can and opened it while considering the irony of her being taken off the Chat Room Predator Case—the reason they gave her was she was “too emotionally focused” on it, and letting other cases slide. But that focus was what had connected her with the presumed killer, though she still hadn’t gotten him to go beyond chatting.

  It might take some time, but she would find a way to meet him and arrest him and get him to trial, if it was the last thing she ever did.

  —

  The next day was busy with paperwork and phone calls, then reporting to a crime scene about another murdered kid in a drive-by shooting, but not a minute went by where Camille hadn’t wondered how she could engage Angel to spring a trap, get him to surface. Maybe she needed to be more sexually direct with him. But that could be a mistake and drive him away. If only she knew more about how Angel had chosen his victims.

  Still thinking about it when she got home, she greeted Max, let him out into the yard for a minute, then filled his bowl with dog food. After letting him in she headed straight for her desk. Camille had gotten into the habit of leaving the computer in hibernate mode so she could get to the chat room in seconds. Tapping the space bar the screen appeared and that’s when Camille froze.

  An email program was open. Not hers. Sandy’s.

  But what made her hold her breath was the IM block at the bottom of the screen. Angel had tried contacting her—rather Morrigan. Sandy must have been checking her email when the IM came in.

  Camille focused on the last exchange. Sandy asking where Angel wanted to meet her…Angel saying the coffee stand at the new Riverfront Shopping Center at five thirty…Sandy saying she would be there.

  What the hell!

  Camille sat stunned for a moment, not believing her eyes. Her heart drummed so fast the beat filled her ears.

  She should have been the one who’d seen the instant message from Angel, not Sandy. And Sandy was fourteen years old—what was she doing agreeing to meet a man she didn’t know?

  Rather Morrigan, her own alter ego, had accepted.

  Angel
thought he was meeting her…

  And Sandy would have known that!

  Horrified, Camille flew from the chair and grabbed her keys. No time to call the kid’s mom. She raced to the door. Max beat her there.

  “Sorry, boy.”

  She ruffled his fur and blocked him from going outside as she turned and left. It was nearly five thirty now.

  Camille pulled away from the curb turning on her flashing headlights and siren so other drivers would pull their vehicles to the side. Her gut clenched and her throat closed. She had to get there on time. Had to! Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, so she gripped the steering wheel tighter, slowing only at intersections long enough to make sure they were clear.

  Throughout the drive, Camille tried not to panic. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her—her breathing was erratic. All she could think about was that a girl’s life was at stake.

  Her fault…all her fault…

  Focus!

  Panic would render her useless, and Sandy would suffer for it. Why hadn’t she locked her computer so the girl couldn’t access it? Had Sandy used her computer before and Camille just hadn’t realized it? Lord knows what else she may have seen. Camille often sent herself notes from the office about her cases so she could review them as needed.

  She should have talked to the girl, gotten to know her better, but getting close to people was something Camille avoided. In her world, she skirted personal relationships and focused on understanding criminals and how they worked so she could track them down, arrest them, and get them off the street. Relationships were for other people. Camille was her job.

  Arriving at the shopping center in record time, she parked curbside and raced to the upper-level entrance where she’d have the best view. Once in the center of the mall, she ran to the rail and scanned the lower level. Chest tight now and barely breathing, she searched for a familiar blond ponytail around the coffee stand. No Sandy.

  Her fault…all her fault…

  Swallowing hard, she raced to the down escalator, her gaze skipping from one part of the mall to the next. No Sandy. No man who appeared to be a predator, though how would she know? They came in all shapes and sizes. She could be staring straight at him now and not recognize him.

  At the coffee stand, she pulled out her star and flashed it at the wiry teenager behind the counter. “Detective Camille Martell. How long have you been working this afternoon?”

  “Um, I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

  “I’m not accusing you. I’m just looking for someone who might be in trouble…” She glanced at his name tag. “…Keshawn. How long?”

  “A-after school. Four.”

  The kid could be a witness, then. Angel’s message had instructed her to be here at five-thirty. It was now a little before six.

  “Do you remember serving a girl with long blond hair?” She was looking around again, hopeful that she could still spot Sandy. “Always wears it in a ponytail. A fresh-faced fourteen-year-old.”

  “Lotsa kids hang out here.”

  Indeed, three girls occupied a nearby table.

  She stared hard into the kid’s deep brown eyes filled with suspicion, no doubt because she was a cop. “Think hard, Keshawn. This is really important. Pretty. Blue eyes. Blond ponytail. Maybe a half hour ago. She was probably alone to start, but she was meeting someone. Not a boy. A man.”

  His dark face pulled into a frown. “A man? Yeah, maybe I saw her. I thought it was kind of weird, ’cause the guy was way old for her, but she got all blushy and giggly. She was sittin’ with her coffee over there…” He pointed to an empty table. “Then the man got up from where he’d been over there…” He pointed in the other direction. “…and joined her.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Longish blond hair. Kinda curly. Okay lookin’, I guess, for a white guy. He was tall and kinda built, like he works out.”

  Her stomach knotted. “How long ago did they leave?”

  “Five…ten minutes, maybe.” He indicated the closest exit, making Camille’s stomach free fall. “Looked like they were goin’ to the parking lot, but I got busy with a customer.”

  “I’m calling this in.” She pulled out her cell phone and walked backward toward that parking lot. “You don’t leave, Keshawn. Another officer will be here shortly to talk to you. You may just have saved a girl’s life. Thank you.”

  With that, she whipped around and connected to Dispatch and gave them her ID. “We may have another victim in the Chat Room Predator Case. The suspect may have taken a fourteen-year-old girl out of the Riverfront Shopping Center. I need uniforms and crime scene investigators here as soon as possible to follow up.”

  Someone official needed to talk to Keshawn and to get prints from that table. Too much to hope for DNA.

  Heading out the door, she quickly scanned the parking lot. No Sandy. What had she expected? Certainly not for a levelheaded girl to leave with a man she’d just met.

  The thought slammed her with a memory she would rather forget. How she’d instantly fallen for Drago Nance. How she’d left the bar with him after one drink.

  Still outside, she shook away the intrusive memory and looked up over the entry doors. Security cameras were mounted on either side. That’s what she’d hoped for. The mall would be recording everything that went on. A break. Finally, a damn break!

  Putting a call through to her lieutenant, she told him where she was. “Get the team here as fast as you can. If we’re lucky, we get to see what this Angel looks like for ourselves.”

  And then she prayed they could nail him before guilt suffocated her.

  Chapter Two

  Shortly after dawn, Camille entered the century-old building on Ravenswood, an industrial corridor divided by raised Metra train tracks straight down the middle. Her life was now in shambles, and guilt dogged her. Sandy was gone, and she was to blame, the reason she was here. She had no other options left. Taking a deep breath, Camille took the elevator up to the third floor and stopped in front of the door to Justus Investigations. She tried not to think about the fact that Justus was Drago’s brother. Or that she and Drago had spent a mind-bending weekend in a hotel room. At this moment, finding Sandy was the only thing that mattered.

  The attractive dark-haired woman at the front desk appeared startled to see her. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Justus Nance.”

  “Um, this early?” Frowning, the woman checked her computer. “I don’t see an appointment.”

  “He’ll see me.” At least she hoped he would. Justus had been her mentor in the department when she’d applied to be a detective. “Tell him it’s Camille Martell.”

  The woman picked up the phone, and a moment later, Justus opened his office door and waved her in. “Camille, beautiful as ever.”

  “You always were an expert liar.”

  Justus didn’t deny it. Sometimes you had to be a great liar to get to the truth when grilling a suspect. Camille had no illusions about herself. Her mirror had assured her that she looked as crappy as she felt. On the other hand, Justus was as handsome as ever, an older, smoother version of his brother.

  The moment she took her seat, Justus said, “So Rodriguez put you on administrative leave.”

  She cringed when she remembered the conversation she’d had with her lieutenant the night before.

  “This doesn’t look good for you, Camille,” Rodriguez tells her. “You were off the case. What you did was unsanctioned. I can’t condone vigilante action. The department won’t.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I was trying to get to Angel before he had another chance at some innocent woman.” Desperate to make him believe she wasn’t doing anything wrong, she says, “If I’d have found him, you would’ve known about it.”

  “When? After you carried through with whatever plan was going through that head of yours?”

  “The plan was to stop a murderer!”

  “Exactly.”

  Camille had t
ried to argue her way out of an administrative leave. It never boded well to ignore a superior’s directive. She could almost feel the tears of frustration and anger again when she had set her star and gun down on his desk.

  And this was barely ten hours later…

  “How did you know so quickly?” she asked Justus, wondering if he’d been expecting her.

  “Just because I left the department doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on. I still have friends there even if you haven’t made a point of contacting me since I left.” He paused only a moment before asking, “So you took it on yourself to trap this guy who calls himself Angel?”

  “It was my case. He’d already killed at least one other woman he’d met on a Chicago online dating chat room before he chatted up then abducted and killed Leanne Grant. I should have been able to stop him before it was too late. And I’ll be the first to admit I was obsessed with her murder.” Not that she was going to explain why. She never talked about the tragedy she had caused all those years ago. “Rodriguez thought I was too emotionally involved and ignoring other investigations, so he took me off the case a couple of weeks ago. What was I supposed to do?”

  “I guess I’m not surprised. You always took things a little too personally. I can’t believe you would have missed anything in the Grant case, so stop blaming yourself. Offering yourself up as the next victim wasn’t your best move.”

  “I’m no victim, Justus. I wanted to stop that bastard myself—”

  “How did that work out for you? Are you really arrogant enough to think you could take on a killer on your own?”

  Camille practically jumped out of her chair. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

  “I don’t agree with what you did—you should have asked Rodriguez for his blessing to continue working on your own time. And for backup if you succeeded in contacting the bastard. Now look at the mess you’ve made. I assume you’re here because you want help getting that girl back. Alive.”