the frost that had come over her. “Ella?”
“What is this?”
Logan studied her face with concern before looking down. “The burn on her neck?”
“Yeah.” She thought of marshes and fishermen. And images of hooks, burned into human flesh. “Could it be a brand?”
His forehead creased and he was staring into her eyes again, searching.
This close, he’d be able to see too much. Fear, maybe. Pain, probably. Recognition, definitely.
She’d seen a mark like this before, way too up close and personal. Her friend had covered it with a tattoo, but Ella would never forget how it had looked the day Maggie stumbled home to their dorm room. An angry red permanent reminder of a man the media had dubbed the Fishhook Rapist. He’d started with Maggie nearly a decade ago, then claimed a new victim every year since in a different part of the country. His last victim had been in Florida.
Ella had joined the FBI to catch him. She’d never even come close before. But maybe—just maybe—that was about to change.
“I don’t know,” Logan answered. “It’s possible. Why?”
Ella released her breath, tried to regain control as she slapped the file shut. “I’m coming to Florida.”
Chapter Two
There was definitely something about this case Ella Cortez wasn’t telling him.
The bustle of Dulles Airport seemed to fade into the background as Logan watched her walk toward him, carrying two cups of coffee. A Bureau blue duffel bag was slung easily over one shoulder and it bounced against her hip with every purposeful stride, swinging in a hypnotic arc. More than one man’s head swiveled as she passed.
Logan had come directly to the airport to change his flight and book hers, while she’d gone home to pack. And apparently to change. Instead of the all-business suit she’d had on earlier, now she wore jeans and a T-shirt that highlighted appealing curves. Dark hair that had been wound into a bun earlier was now in a loose, low ponytail that trailed to midback and made his fingers itch to slide through it.
He sat up straighter as she joined him, taking the scalding cup of coffee she offered. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” She looked distracted as she dumped her bag on the floor, pulled out her cell phone and hit Redial. It must have gone to voice mail, because she swore and stuck the phone back in her pocket.
“Boyfriend?” When she squinted at him, he added, “That you’re calling?”
“No. The friends I was supposed to go on vacation with. I can’t get them.”
Which didn’t exactly answer the subtext of his question. Not that it mattered.
He’d gotten a lot more than he’d hoped for out of his trip, which he’d booked yesterday on a whim and a hope. He’d expected to badger someone from the FBI’s profiler unit into giving him something to take home. It was how he got to the bottom of most of his cases—his ability to push until he got what he wanted. And this time wasn’t any different. He wanted to close this case. And it didn’t matter whose toes he had to step on back home.
He snuck a peek at Ella, who was frowning beside him as she pulled her phone out again. However much he’d like to believe it, she wasn’t here because of his persuasive charm. She was in this for her own reasons. And before they landed, he planned to find out what they were.
“Ella!”
The yell jolted Ella to her feet. She hadn’t made it two steps before a man and woman reached her. “I tried to call you,” the man said.
He was tall, with a sharp, intent look that pegged him as law enforcement or military. He seemed to buzz with energy, and everything about him screamed his readiness for a vacation. Logan could read his type instantly—lady killer. Ella had called him a friend, but was that all?
The woman with him was dark-haired and muscular, with pretty blue eyes. She looked exhausted, frazzled and slightly jumpy.
“You’re at the wrong gate.” The man’s eyes flicked speculatively to him, then back to