Before The Dawn

He lunged for her. But Dawn jumped back and fell into the water. She sank like a stone and his heart stopped. In the next second, he was diving off that dock after her. No way was he going to lose Dawn. Not her. Not her. The words were a mantra in his head. He swam until he touched her, until his hand wrapped around her body, and then he kicked them up to the surface. He felt something brush against his body but he didn’t stop. The gators were there, he knew the blood and thrashing would just be drawing them in closer, and Tucker knew that he was getting Dawn out of that water.

He pushed her toward the dock and helped to heave her body up onto the old wood. Water streamed down her body as she crawled across the rotting dock, and Tucker hauled himself right up after her. He reached for Dawn.

Jason’s laughter froze him.

“That was impressive,” his brother said. “Very hero-like, the way you dived in after her.”

Tucker was on his knees. Dawn was about two feet away from him, and Jason...he had a gun pressed to her head.

“This isn’t how I planned things.” Jason’s left hand swiped at the blood that fell from his busted lip while his right held that gun against her temple. “But it can still work.”

Tucker didn’t look at Dawn’s face right then. He couldn’t.

“You knew it would happen,” Jason said. “Only a matter of time, for us both. The urge was always there. The violence—it’s a rush, isn’t it?”

His hands fisted at his sides. “Let her go.”

“You won’t believe what I’ve learned. I want to show it to you. Share it with you. But this one...” He jabbed the gun into Dawn’s temple. Dawn didn’t make a sound. “She’s messing things up. You think I didn’t see it? Even years ago, you watched her too much. But you didn’t touch her. Hands off, right, bro? You broke that rule this time, and everything changed.” His shoulders slumped. “So maybe it’s your fault this is happening to her.”

“Jason...”

“It’s your fault she’s dying.”

Tucker reached his right hand beneath the leg of his wet jeans. He grabbed for the knife he kept there, but he made sure not to let his brother see the weapon.

“She has to die. I mean, if I let her go...she’ll run to the cops. She’ll tell them what happened. They’ll lock me up. You don’t want that to happen, do you?” Jason demanded, a desperate edge creeping into the words. “You don’t want me in a cell? A cage?” His voice roughened even more. “We’ve both been in a cage before. We swore neither of us would go back.”

Yes, they had sworn that.

“Choose.” Jason stared straight at him, his eyes glittering. “Choose right now and let her know it. Tell her the truth that we’ve always both known. Blood is thicker than anything else. Blood binds.”

Tucker rose to his feet, making sure to keep the knife behind him and out of his brother’s sight. “Blood comes first.” Those were the words their father had battered into their minds.

Jason nodded and he lifted the gun away from Dawn’s head.

“Tucker?” she rasped his name. “Please, don’t...”

“You do the honors,” Jason said. He offered the gun to Tucker. The guy was smiling at him, as if this was some kind of game.

It wasn’t a game.

Dawn tried to crawl away.

Jason yanked her back. He locked one hand around her throat. The other still held the gun, but now the barrel was pointed down at the dock.

“She’s more of a fighter than I thought,” Jason murmured. “Sometimes, they don’t fight at all. They just beg.”

My brother is a monster. And Tucker had let this happen.

Dawn was clawing at Jason’s hand, but his brother didn’t even seem to feel the pain. He just stared straight at Tucker, that stupid smile on his face as he choked Dawn.

With his right hand, Tucker reached for the gun. But at the same time, his left hand came up in a rush—and he drove that knife straight at his brother’s chest.

Jason let out a bellow as he staggered back. He freed Dawn and she scrambled away.

Tucker snatched the gun from Jason. Then Tucker twisted that weapon around in a fast, practiced movement, aiming it at Jason even as his brother yanked the knife out of his chest.

“Don’t!” Tucker snarled when Jason took a lunging step toward him. Dawn had run down the dock, heading back toward the old cabin. “This is ending, right here. You aren’t hurting anyone else.” Dear God, Jason...how many people have you already hurt? He was afraid to find out that truth.

“You stabbed me.” His blood was dripping on the dock. “To save her, you stabbed me.” Fury burned in this words. Disbelief.

“I will kill you in order to save her.” Just so there was no confusion. But it doesn’t have to be this way. He moved his body, making sure to block the exit off that old dock, stopping any attempt Jason could make to charge after Dawn. “Jason, drop the knife.” Jason still gripped it tightly. “Drop the knife and put your hands up.”

Jason didn’t drop the knife. “What are you going to do? Call the cops? Play the hero?”

His phone was in the car. “Yeah, I’ll be calling the cops.”

“I said no cage!” That rage was getting hotter. “You know that! You know I can’t handle that!” And Jason laughed. A wild sound. “Just as I know you won’t kill me. You can’t. That knife barely even went into me. You weren’t trying. Just for show...”

He was coming forward.

Tucker couldn’t hear the thud of Dawn’s footsteps any longer. Where was she? “Don’t take another step.”

But Jason did. “I’m going to slice her all over. I’m going to make her beg.”

Tucker’s rage burned, too. “You aren’t touching her.”

“You’re going to help me. You’re going to be at my side, the way you always are. You understand me. You want the same things I want.”

Jason was a foot away from him.

Tucker shook his head. “I want Dawn.” He eased out a low breath. “Drop that knife, now.” But he knew Jason wasn’t going to do it. “Don’t—” he began, but it was too late. Jason had surged forward. He didn’t swing at Tucker with his knife. Tucker wasn’t his goal. He slammed his body into Tucker’s, shoving him out of the way.

Because Jason wants Dawn.

But Tucker wasn’t letting that happen. He caught his brother, held tight when Jason fought and then...

He fired.

The blast of that gun seemed deafening. For a moment after that terrible thunder, there was no sound at all. Even the insects had stopped chirping, as if they were afraid. Jason was staring at him, his face easy to see under the bright, full moon.

Shock.

Betrayal.

Then Jason was plunging that knife at Tucker, slicing down his arm, slicing his hand and trying to make Tucker drop the gun.

He didn’t drop it. Tucker fired again.

Jason staggered back.

“You won’t touch her again.”

Tucker fired once more. His brother was on the edge of the dock, he staggered back—

And fell into the water, sinking deep with a splash.

CHAPTER TWO

Seven years later...

SECOND CHANCES DIDN’T come around often. If a man was lucky enough to have one, then he should grab on to that opportunity and hold tight to it with every bit of strength that he had.

It was a good thing Tucker Frost was strong.

He hurried into the conference room at the FBI’s Washington, DC, office. It was early June and the sun glinted through the window, shining right through the blinds. The other agents were already inside, seated at the round table. Their laptops were out. Their manila files were open. Their phones were on the tabletop, probably already turned to mute.

He took the last seat, had his laptop out and open in seconds and was adjusting the volume on his phone when Samantha Dark delicately cleared her throat.

“I want to thank all of you for joining me on such short notice.”

The meeting had been called ten minutes ago. He’d been outside the building, already anticipating just how he’d be spending the weekend.

“I know that our unit is still in the development phase, but you were all handpicked to join this team because I know that you bring a unique set of skills and a perspective for targeting killers that others just can’t imitate.”

Her voice was low, calm, and she turned her golden stare on all of the agents at the table.

Samantha Dark.

He was damn glad she’d come back to the FBI. He’d always respected Agent Dark. From the very first moment that they’d met at Quantico, he’d known just how sharp she was. Samantha had been the profiler to watch, but when her ex-lover had turned out to be a vicious serial killer, she’d retreated, pulling away from everyone close to her. He’d hated that.

But Samantha was back now. She’d stopped not just one serial killer on her last case, but two, and since she’d also managed to save the life of the FBI’s executive assistant director, Justin Bass, she’d been given carte blanche to try her experimental unit.

“Some folks would say,” Samantha began as her stare turned pensive, “that we aren’t the best ones to profile killers. They’d say our personal connections to murderers are weaknesses.”

His jaw locked.

“But those people would be dead wrong.” She gave a grim nod. “The fact that we’ve had serial killers intimately involved in our lives means that we understand them like no other person can.” She paused. “They were friends. They were lovers.”

She’d taken down the lover who’d tried to hurt her and who had hurt so many others.

“They were family.” Now her golden stare came back to him.

Beneath the table, his hands fisted. Blood always comes first.

Then her stare tracked to the red-haired agent on his left, Macey Night. “They have been our tormenters.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Macey stiffen.

But then Samantha’s focus was on the last agent at that little table as she stared at Bowen Murphy and said, “And they have been our prey.”

Bowen inclined his head toward her.

“We have all been in life-and-death situations with serials. We know how dangerous they are. We don’t underestimate them. We see them from a unique perspective that no one else can fully appreciate.” She exhaled as she moved around the table. “And that perspective is going to help us. It will allow us to think outside of the box. It will allow us to notice things that others cannot. It will allow us to stop the perpetrators before they take more innocent victims.”

Hell, yes. That was what he wanted. Why he’d agreed to join this group when Samantha had approached him. He’d been working in Violent Crimes for years now, but going back to profiling, it was exactly what he needed.

Maybe the guilt will finally stop. If he could stop enough serials. If he could make a difference, if, if, if.

“You all know that there are currently 25 to 50 active serial killers hunting in the United States.” Her lips thinned. “Or at least, that’s the number we’re supposed to be working with.” The number that the FBI bandied about to the media.

“I think there are more,” Bowen said, his voice rumbling. “I think there are hunters who are so good at killing, the authorities have no idea they’re out there. They’re flying right beneath the radar, picking victims that no one will miss, and they’re getting away with murder.”

“That’s where we come in,” Samantha said with a nod. “Part of our job will be to try to find those unknown killers. We will unmask the ones who are hiding in shadows. We’ll find the victims that they don’t want anyone to know about.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Macey murmured.

Samantha smiled. “Yes, it is.” Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. “But I think we’re up to the challenge.”

Tucker didn’t speak.

“That’s part of our job,” Samantha continued in that mild, calm voice of hers. An oddly soothing voice. “But another part...another part is immediate mobilization when we think local authorities have uncovered an active serial. At the first hint of serial involvement, a team will immediately deploy to the local area and begin cooperative action with the authorities there.”

He liked that. Damn straight they needed immediate action. When it came to serials, the locals were often in way over their heads, and time lost meant lives lost.

“That brings me to the reason I called this meeting...” She glanced at the watch on her slender wrist. “At seven p.m. on a Friday night.” She headed toward her laptop and pressed a few buttons. She had a projector hooked up and a screen had already lowered from the ceiling. “Agents, we have our first target.”

And an image appeared on that white screen. Even though he’d prepared for it, Tuck’s whole body tensed. No, hell, no. Not happening. It shouldn’t be happening—

“Is she...frozen?” Macey asked.

“Yes,” Tucker gritted before Samantha could speak.

Because the crime scene photo they were staring at...it showed a woman with skin that appeared almost blue. Her lashes were covered with small ice particles. Her lashes, her lips, the tip of her nose. He could see the slices on her body, slices that were wide and deep, obviously from a big knife. And her body—

Samantha hit a button on her laptop. Another picture appeared. This one wasn’t as close up. Instead, it was a distance shot of the crime scene, and it showed the victim’s body perfectly.

She was inside an open freezer.

Tucker wanted to jump to his feet. He wanted to snarl... No fucking way. This can’t be happening. Not again. But he knew Samantha was watching him. He knew Samantha needed him.

And he knew he was going to give her exactly what she wanted.

“The Iceman.”

He could feel the other agents staring at him.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the screen. He stared at the victim’s arms, her bare torso. Her neck. “The angle of the cuts...it appears to be the same.” Because the Iceman had enjoyed inflicting maximum pain on his victims. “He’d start easily, just little flicks of the blade. Then he’d go deeper. Starting with the arms. The stomach. Then driving the blade into the shoulders. The right first, then the left.” And the guy had only been getting started at that point. His torture would last much, much longer.

Tucker stared at the victim’s face. “She’s in her early twenties. A young, pretty female. Just his type.”

Only it wasn’t possible.

“Uh, yeah...” Bowen cleared his throat. “I was under the impression that the Iceman died seven years ago.”

Tucker forced himself to turn away from the victim. “You’re not the only one who thought that.” He’d been under that same impression, until Samantha Dark had given him a heads-up when she first told him about the meeting. She hadn’t wanted him walking into that room blind. And, in fact, she’d given him the option not to come in at all.

He’d been late to that meeting for one reason...because he’d gotten lost thinking about the ghost of his bastard brother.

There were some things a man couldn’t forget, and there were some things that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, hide from.

“The original Iceman was Jason Frost, and, yes, I’m the man who shot him one long-ago Louisiana night.” He kept his voice flat with an effort. Tucker valued his control above all else. “It’s safe to assume that we’re looking at the work of a copycat. It could be as simple as some jerk who wanted to get rid of his girlfriend, so he thought he’d imitate the work of an infamous killer, or—” he rolled back his shoulders “—it could be one of those guys who gets obsessed with a serial killer’s work. Who tries to imitate and duplicate the kills.” Of the two options, that was the one that worried him more. If someone was duplicating Jason’s work, that meant there would be more death coming.

They couldn’t have that.

Macey’s fingers tapped lightly on the table. “If I remember correctly, Jason Frost’s body was never recovered.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Though dive teams had searched for days. “But his body isn’t the first to disappear into the Mississippi, and it won’t be the last.” By the time the cops had arrived, his brother’s body had been long gone. It had taken two hours for the cops to get there...mostly because it had taken a very long time for Tucker to call them in. If he’d called sooner...

Then maybe we would have pulled him from the water. But my priority was elsewhere then.

“If they didn’t get a body—” Bowen’s head tilted as he studied Tucker “—then how can you be certain he’s dead?”

He didn’t let his expression alter. “I’m a former SEAL. When I shoot at something, I hit it. Before he went into the water, I shot Jason Frost three times.” The breath he inhaled felt cold. “With my last shot, I was aiming for his heart.”

Bowen’s eyes narrowed. “But he was your brother. Your blood.”

Blood is all that matters.

“In that last second,” Bowen continued, his brown eyes narrowed, “are you sure you didn’t hesitate?”

“Yes.” He stared straight at Bowen. “I’m sure.”

“Fair enough.” Bowen’s gaze slid from his and focused once more on the woman’s image. “Do we know who the victim is?”

“Right now, she’s listed as a Jane Doe,” Samantha replied. “She doesn’t match with any missing person’s report, and her fingerprints haven’t turned up any hits in our system. But this is still early in the investigation, so I’m expecting to hear more news soon.”

Macey swiveled her chair toward Samantha. “Just how early are we talking?”

“The victim was discovered less than twelve hours ago.”

Bowen gave a low whistle. “That is early.”

Samantha nodded. “And that means we have an advantage. Luckily for us, one of the detectives who is working on this case in New Orleans was familiar with the Iceman’s work. He knew instantly what he was seeing, and he put in a call to my office.”

When the Iceman’s crimes had first been uncovered, his kills had been flashed on every news channel in the United States. But then time had passed and other killers had taken his place. More tales of gore and death had pushed the Iceman out of the spotlight. That was the nature of the beast. In a 24/7 online world, there was always another sensational story waiting.

Always another killer hunting. Always someone out there to satisfy the public’s need for bloody details.

“We can hit the ground running on this one. We can get down there and we can hunt. We can stop him.” Samantha’s gaze lifted to meet Tucker’s. “We can prove that this unit is exactly what the FBI needs. We know killers and now it’s our turn to show everyone just what we can do.”

Tucker eased out a slow breath. “You know I want to be on the plane.” The one that would be leaving to fly down to New Orleans that very night. She’d told him about that flight during their brief premeeting chat, too.

“And you’re going.” She nodded. “You and Macey are heading out tonight. Evaluate the scene, see exactly what we’re dealing with and then make contact with me again. If you need additional backup, Bowen and I will be ready to go.”

Back to Louisiana. “The location is different.” That was something that was already nagging at him. “Jason Frost killed in Baton Rouge, not New Orleans.” And he had to ask. “Was the victim alive when she went into the freezer?”

He saw Macey flinch.

“The coroner doesn’t know yet. When you get down to New Orleans, visit the coroner’s office and see what she’s learned.” She pointed toward Macey. “The fact that you’re a medical doctor is going to come in handy for us—I want your eyes on the victim. Make sure nothing gets missed with her.”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then.” Samantha straightened her shoulders. “You all have files that I passed out earlier—take a look at them. They contain information on Jason Frost and his victims, including the one woman who managed to escape.”

Slowly, Tucker returned to his seat. He opened the folder that had been set out for him, and he found a picture of Dawn Alexander staring back at him. It was a picture that had been taken of her when she’d been at the hospital. Her big green eyes were blank, glassy. Bruises and cuts covered her body.

Sonofabitch. Pain knifed right through his heart. Time should have lessened the pain. It hadn’t. He didn’t think it ever would.

“One of the things that concerns me most about this case is Dawn Alexander,” Samantha murmured. “Because the only surviving victim of the Iceman? She’s living in New Orleans... The exact place our new perp is using for his hunting grounds.”

* * *

“DAWN!” HE TURNED, frantic to find her. He’d been screaming her name, but she hadn’t called back to him. She wasn’t at his car. She wasn’t in that shit-forsaken cabin. She wasn’t on the old dirt road that led out of that place.

She’d vanished. She’d run from him. Because she was afraid.

“Dawn, I swear, I am not going to hurt you!” He’d taken a flashlight from his car and he’d shone it onto the ground. That was when he saw the blood drops, leading into the thick, twisting woods behind the cabin. One drop, another, another... Tucker started following them. “Jason isn’t here any longer!” He hadn’t seen his brother’s body come back up because he’d been so frantic to find Dawn and make sure she was all right. She’d been covered in so much blood. He needed to check her out. He needed to make absolutely certain she wasn’t going to die out at that cabin.

Another soul taken.

He pushed through the woods. The branches tore at him, but he didn’t care. There was more blood there. Some high up on a tree, forming a bloody hand print as if she’d stopped to brace herself. Other drops were low, on leaves, as if they’d dripped from her body as she fled.

He kept walking ahead, calling for her, following that blood trail, but she never spoke back to him. Never called out for him to help her.

He knew why. Because she was afraid. Because Dawn thought that he was just as much of a monster as his brother.

And the problem was...she was right.

* * *

“WE’RE ABOUT TO LAND.”

He jerked at the soft voice, his gaze shooting to the right. Macey Night gave him a worried frown. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?” Her unusual eyes—one blue and one brown—showed her concern as she stared at him. “I was talking to the captain. He said we’d be touching down soon.” She slid into the seat across from him and hooked the seat belt over her lap. “I thought you’d want to know.”

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been staring out of the window, trying to get into the head of the killer they were facing, but memories of Dawn had come back to haunt him.

“You said her name.”

His hand tightened around the armrest. “Didn’t realize I talked in my sleep.”

Macey stared straight at him. “May I ask...what was it like?”

“To kill my own brother?” His voice was cold. He was cold. He had to have that ice to block off his emotions. Otherwise...

Iceman.

“I had a choice to make. I could let a killer destroy an innocent woman or I could stop him. Since I’m not a sadistic bastard, I stopped him.”

“You were involved with Dawn Alexander before her attack.” She pulled at the sleeve of her top. Long sleeves. Macey always wore long sleeves. “What happened between the two of you?”

“You’ve seen the photos of Jason Frost.” Jason Frost. He always tried to refer to him formally. He couldn’t say my brother. Because he had to keep it separate. His brother had been the guy who kicked the ass of any bully who’d tried to mess with Tucker. His brother had been the one to teach him how to ride a bike. His brother had been the one to hold his hand when their mom was buried.

Jason Frost had been a depraved killer. His brother had been his best friend.

Tucker cleared his throat. “You’ve seen photos,” he said again. “You know we look...similar.” Even more so now. Time had sharpened his features so that he resembled Jason even more.

“You guys could be twins.”

Right. Because fate was cruel and twisted. “Would you want a lover who had the same face as the man who tortured you for hours?”

Her face went white. She pulled on her sleeve again. “No.”