Secret Obsession
Authors: Robin Perini
Tags: #Contemporary romantic suspense, #Harlequin Intrigue, #Fiction
He didn’t know which was harder: not falling for a woman who was off-limits, or protecting her from a madman…
Scarred from the brutal murder of her fiancé, former UN translator Lyssa Cafferty sleeps with one eye open. Now a serial killer is determined to finish what he started…and she’s his next target. Desperate to survive, Lyssa seeks protection from the one man with knowledge of her past.
Noah Bradford, a cunning ex-marine, vows to protect Lyssa—along with the secret she keeps from her watchful predator. It soon becomes evident that Noah’s growing attraction for Lyssa could distract him from his mission, but only together can they crack the cryptic messages of a killer. With time running out, it’s uncertain who will come out unharmed—or alive.
“I’m so sorry they got pulled into this. If I thought it would help, I’d go back to Chicago.” She lifted her gaze to his. “It wouldn’t help, would it?”
“He knows I’m involved, and he’s not happy about it.” Noah scooted closer to her and placed his hand on her knee. “Count on one thing—I won’t leave your side until he’s no longer a threat.”
With a sad smile she covered his hand with hers. He couldn’t look away from her green eyes. So much hurt, so much pain, and yet a determination buried deep that she couldn’t hide. He turned his hand and squeezed hers, offering comfort.
She gnawed on her lip, her nerves showing through. He couldn’t look away. The awareness that had been flickering through him since he’d seen her again erupted. He was so close to her, if he leaned over just a bit, their lips would touch.
If he ever kissed her, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop.
SECRET
OBSESSION
Robin Perini
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Robin Perini’s love of heart-stopping
suspense and poignant r mance, coupled with her adoration of high-tech weaponry
and covert ops, encouraged her secret inner commando to take on the challenge of
writing romantic suspense novels. Her mission’s motto: “When danger and romance
collide, no heart is safe.”
Devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes
adventures with a love story sure to melt their hearts, Robin won a prestigious
Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award in 2011. By day she works for an
advanced technology corporation, and in her spare time you might find her giving
one of her many nationally acclaimed writing workshops or training in
competitive small-bore-rifle silhouette shooting. Robin loves to interact with
readers. You can catch her on her website,
www.robinperini.com
, and on several
major social-networking sites, or write to her at P.O. Box 50472, Albuquerque,
NM 87181-0472.
Books by Robin Perini
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
1340—FINDING HER SON
1362—COWBOY IN THE
CROSSFIRE
1381—CHRISTMAS CONSPIRACY
1430—UNDERCOVER
TEXAS
1465—THE CRADLE CONSPIRACY
1512—SECRET OBSESSION
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Lyssa Cafferty—
Under WitSec protection, this sole survivor of a serial killer has a precious secret to guard. When the killer finds her, can she trust anyone, or will the man sent to save her also betray her?
Noah Bradford—
When this ex-marine and deadly operative receives a call to protect the fiancée of his murdered best friend, can he guard Lyssa from a killer—and his heart from the woman he’s loved from afar?
Archimedes—
Infinity is his trademark. He’s brilliant, vicious and determined, and his secret obsession is Lyssa.
Reid Nichols—
The only person in WitSec Lyssa trusts. Has he betrayed her location to Archimedes?
Jack Holden—
Lyssa’s fiancé died at Archimedes’s hands, saving her life. Can his best friend, Noah, stop the serial killer?
Rafe Vargas—
Noah’s trusted teammate has his own secrets. Will he lose more during this case than he ever imagined?
Covert Technology Confidential (CTC)—
This organization of elite warriors helps those who have run out of options. But has the team met its match?
For my readers.
Thanks for the wonderful letters
telling me you loved the Bradford family
from Finding Her Son. Noah’s story
exists because of you.
Chapter One
The sting of frozen rain pricked Lyssa Cafferty’s cheeks, another attack she couldn’t prevent. She hurried from the L station toward her small Chicago apartment. If only she could pull her hood over her head, duck down and avoid the piercing needles of ice on her face, but then she’d lose her peripheral vision.
She couldn’t afford to allow comfort to trump safety.
Not now. Not ever.
Instead, she tugged her thrift-store winter coat tighter around her body, the jacket too big but at least warm. She peered over one shoulder then the other, seeing only commuters huddled against the winter wind and racing down Roger’s Park streets. No one familiar.
She picked up her pace and pressed on through the blustery weather. Of course, she wouldn’t recognize the man out to kill her until she was already dead.
Two years. Two long, horrible years since the night she’d lost Jack, since she’d lost her love, her life and everything that had made the world wonderful.
She couldn’t have imagined things would get worse after Jack’s murder.
They had.
A brilliant, uncatchable psycho had made it his business to find her.
Archimedes.
Just his name made her heart stutter...with fear and fury. He’d stolen her life.
She paused two blocks from her apartment and, ignoring the cold, stilled. On high alert, her entire body tensed. She struggled to calm the rapid beat of her heart.
Some days she just prayed he’d find her and get it over with. Those were the days when the constant state of fear wore down her soul.
Most days, though, she longed to look him in the eye and kill him for what he’d done to Jack, and to her. For the precious moments she’d lost with the one thing she loved more than herself. The one secret she’d die to protect.
She refused to even let her mind go there. She couldn’t contemplate what might have been. Or what could be. Until Archimedes was brought to justice, this was her life. She had to focus on staying alive. At least for one more day.
Lyssa shifted, keeping her movements subtle, scanning each person, each darkened corner, searching for anything out of place, anyone following her. Her gaze flickered back and forth, furtive and cautious. He could be anyone, anywhere.
With each new stretch of building and street, her chest tightened in dreaded anticipation. She hurried past a couple of boarded-up storefronts and still, he wasn’t there.
For three hundred and fifty-three days he hadn’t been there.
One more day and he hadn’t found her.
She tugged her hood lower and raced through the main entrance to her building. She trudged up the stairs, acutely aware of each squeak. A baby cried in apartment 219. At the sound, Lyssa paused, her hand instinctively reaching for the brass doorknob. A wave of despair nearly propelled her to her knees. A shush and a coo, and the baby quieted.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the burning wells in the corners. She couldn’t think about the past, or her loss. She had to stay focused.
With careful placement of each step, she padded across the floor, knowing the location of each creak, a skill she worked to perfect every single day. She needed to move silently, invisibly.
Finally, she stopped in front of the small apartment the Justice Department had arranged for her. So-called Witness Security. She wasn’t the best witness. She’d only heard the whispers of a madman, but had never seen him. And she certainly wasn’t secure.
She was simply the sole survivor of a man who’d killed dozens.
The walnut door to her temporary home appeared exactly as she’d left it, down to the small slip of paper she’d wedged near the hinge. A trick she’d learned. Few would notice it, and as long as the paper didn’t move, Lyssa could be confident no one had opened the door.
Safe at last.
She slipped the key into the dead bolt. As she tried to turn it, the key resisted in the lock ever so slightly. At the slight deviation from normal, she hesitated, her instincts firing.
The cold. It
could
be the cold. The temperature had plummeted twenty degrees today.
It probably
was
the cold.
One hand slipped into her pocket to the phone she carried with her. She hesitated. She couldn’t call Gil again. She’d contacted her WitSec handler three times this month already. All false alarms.
The last time, after he’d rushed over to her place, she’d witnessed irritation in his eyes, though he’d tried to hide his reaction. He couldn’t understand. She’d been in Chicago almost a year. Too long. She knew in her gut time was running out.
She flipped open her bag with her free hand and gripped the butt of the black-market .45 in her purse. Gil may have read the file, but he didn’t comprehend the minute-by-minute fear that stalked her. Archimedes wasn’t a typical serial killer. He was smart. He was thorough, and for some reason he had Lyssa in his sights.
Hand tight on the weapon, trigger finger ready, she shoved open the door and stepped across the threshold of a place she could never call home.
The coppery scent of blood strangled her belly.
Gil Masters lay on the ground, dead, in a pool of blood.
Archimedes had found her.
She forced herself to look at Gil’s face. Someone had gouged out his eyes. Empty sockets stared unseeing at her, accusing. She didn’t want to look lower, but she had to. His shirt had been ripped open, a frame for Archimedes’s handiwork.
She froze, unable to look away from the horrifying, familiar symbol carved into his belly.
Infinity.
The curves of the sideways eight dripped with rivulets of blood streaking down his abdomen along his torso, pooling beneath him.
Archimedes had found her.
“No. God, no.”
She lifted the gun and froze in place.
No sound. No movement. No creak of the floor.
No one was there.
She slowly turned, the muscles in her arms, legs and neck all at the ready.
Waiting.
Waiting for the attack to come out of nowhere. Waiting to die.
Each second became an hour. Each inch of movement felt like a mile.
But nothing happened. No heaving breaths, no hand over her mouth. No sadistic whisper in her ear.
She couldn’t tell how many seconds had passed when she realized she wasn’t going to die. At least not in this moment.
He really wasn’t here.
But his message was.
She might not know what meaning infinity had for the killer, but she could read these words.
Blood smeared the wall, the promise indisputable.
No one will come between us. You will be mine.
Her gaze whipped around the apartment, her throat tightened in panic. What if he was watching, just waiting for her to let her guard down?
She had to get out.
She raced into her bedroom and grabbed the jewelry box from the top dresser drawer, digging through it until she pulled out a thin gold chain threaded through her diamond engagement ring. She slipped it around her neck.
Gil would have called her a fool. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t leave the ring behind.
A door slammed down the hall.
No more time. She yanked open her closet and grabbed a small duffel. The bag she kept packed. Always.
Lyssa heaved it over her shoulder and clutched the ring. “Help me, Jack.”
She ran past Gil’s body. Guilt pounded in her head. He had a family, a wife, two kids, five and seven years old. A girl and a boy. Witness and handler weren’t supposed to get to know each other, but over a year, she had learned things about the man who watched out for her.
“I’m sorry. So sorry,” she murmured. She closed her eyes in regret, tore down the stairs and hurried out of the apartment building. She wouldn’t be coming back.
Speeding past end-of-the-day commuters, she tried to tame her panting breaths. She rushed up the stairs to the L platform and hopped onto the first southbound train. Her trembling legs refused to hold her. She sank into an empty seat.
The image of Gil’s face, the void where his eyes should have been, battered into her memory. She’d never forget.
Lyssa clutched the duffel to her. She had to push Gil aside, cold and heartless as that was. She had to concentrate. She had to survive.
The train rumbled beneath her, the iron supports whizzing past, each second taking her farther from the body of the man who had sworn to protect her, further from the life she’d lived for almost a year.
She knew one thing; this wouldn’t be a repeat of the last time Archimedes had found her. This time
she
would dictate the rules.
She caught sight of an ad for the Atrium Mall from the train’s window. A lot of people. Open late.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she walked into the huge shopping center. Crowds milled around her. She let herself breathe again. Archimedes didn’t kill in public. Or he hadn’t yet. She found a corner table in the food court, near a wall, out of the way. She shoved her hand into her pocket and grabbed the unused, prepaid cell phone.
She dialed but couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She hated the response, hated the show of vulnerability. Somewhere inside she had to find the strength to do what two years ago she could never have imagined doing.
She didn’t bother with 911. They couldn’t help.
She dialed a number she’d memorized a year ago.
“Nichols,” the voice barked.
The one man she trusted not to betray her.
“He found me again.”
* * *
N
OAH
B
RADFORD
VAULTED
onto the edge of the roof from the ladder propped against his father’s house. The brisk morning air would make it easy to stay alert. He scaled the pitched tile using techniques not so different from an escape he’d engineered in Kazakhstan. At least this time bullets weren’t flying past his head.
Donning an elaborate tool belt stuffed with everything from levels to screwdrivers to ratchets and hammers, his brother Chase followed Noah to the satellite system.
Noah knelt to inspect the latest winter storm’s hail damage. “Colorado weather is
not
kind to my toys,” he muttered. “No wonder Dad’s had so many outages.”
Ignoring the fact that he should have found time to repair this months ago, Noah grabbed a small set of tools from his back pocket and quickly adjusted the encryption device while Chase checked out the damaged tiles from the storm.
They’d almost finished before Chase spoke. “You were out of touch for over a month, bro,” he accused. “Dad was worried.”
Yet another way Noah had let down his dad. He sent Chase a sidelong glance. “I told you, I had business—”
“You gave the family a cock-and-bull story that even a child would see through. We’re not stupid, Noah. Dad developed pneumonia two weeks ago. We couldn’t get ahold of you. You didn’t answer your cell. No one from your companies could tell us anything. Not acceptable.”
A small screwdriver fell from Noah’s normally secure grip, rolled down the roof and tumbled over the side. He let out a sharp curse before snapping the cover over the panel. “I can’t talk about it.”
He eased to the edge and made his way down the ladder in seconds. Chase followed. “I’m just giving you fair warning. You won’t be able to avoid the truth this time. Dad’s staging an intervention.”
Noah stilled, the muscles at the base of his neck tying into a familiar knot. He looked over at his SUV. He could just leave. His family was better off not knowing about his side job as the Falcon. They knew about his public career. The encryption and software patents he’d developed as a teenager had turned into big business. They’d never understood why he’d left it and home at eighteen for the Marines.
They definitely had no idea that he now worked for an organization that took on tasks the government or military couldn’t risk.
Chase slapped his brother’s shoulder and the move yanked Noah from the dark memories.
“Come clean,” his brother said. “Just like you did when Dad caught you and Mitch sneaking out during high school. Some things aren’t worth avoiding.”
“And sometimes the truth doesn’t make it better,” Noah said. “This isn’t high school.”
Bracing himself, he entered his father’s home, past the handicapped ramp that his siblings, Mitch, Chase and Sierra, had installed. Noah had been on a job. By the time he’d returned, all he’d been able to do was write a check.
His mind already searching for a means of escape, he found his way into the living room. “Satellite is fixed. You’ve got TV and internet, all encrypted for your super-secret-police consulting.”
His father didn’t take the bait. Paul Bradford said nothing; he simply quirked an eyebrow while the football game played in the background. Noah squirmed under his dad’s focus. He might be in a wheelchair after a gunshot severed his spinal cord, but nothing was wrong with his instincts.
Noah’s forefinger scratched at his knuckle. “What?”
His brother Chase shrugged and passed him a longneck bottle with that I-told-you look.
Paul Bradford drummed his fingers on his chair. “I did a little digging—”
Noah’s hand paused on the way to his mouth, then he took a long gulp. Yeah, he’d been brilliant encouraging his father’s interest in computers. Noah knew exactly how he inherited his own tech ability. The idea of setting Dad up with a side business doing investigations had seemed like a perfect way to keep Paul Bradford engaged in life—and law enforcement. Noah downed half the bottle, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. What a fool. “Your point?”
“I hit a damn brick wall,” Paul growled.
At least something had gone right today.
“You want to tell me why I can’t find out anything about you, Noah? Short of the vanilla bio you published on the websites of your companies.” Paul rolled his chair across the wooden floor, coming a few inches from Noah. “I haven’t pried into your life before. Well, that stops now. Exactly what are you into, Noah? How worried should we be?”
His sister, Sierra, saved him from answering. For the moment. She exited the kitchen with a large tray of chips and guacamole, followed by Mitch and his very pregnant wife, Emily. Mitch held Emily’s two-year-old son Joshua in his arms while Emily waddled into the living room and settled down on a hard-back chair with a sigh. “I can’t get out of that sofa,” she said with a smile. “Last time, Mitch had to use a crane to hoist me.”