If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

problems. That was why everything had become a problem, he knew. He let himself get so close he could no longer see the big picture.
    He should have kept his distance.
    They’d found his place. Carter had to deal with that. He’d been careful, even in his own territory, not to leave any sign of himself. Body hair was no issue. He wore condoms and he wore gloves. They would find blood from his victims—blood never really did come out easily, but even that would be hard to trace. Bleach broke down DNA and he used it religiously.
    No, they wouldn’t likely find signs of him and they weren’t likely to even connect his place, for certain, to any specific crimes, because there were no bodies. Save for Jolene Hollister, and of course, Mara and Katia—his infamous Chicago fuck-up.
    But only Jolene could be traced back to Ash. All theyhad there was suspicion. No hard evidence.
Nothing
, he told himself.
They have nothing
.
    And he’d be careful not to give them anything, either. From here on out, his games would stop. Perhaps later, he’d find a new game. But for now, it was done.
    This was for the best. It had been too close, the game he’d been playing and he had been doing too many stupid, foolish things, and neglecting his work, even his wife.
    Roz deserved better than that. He’d make it up to her. The present. Perhaps another special piece of jewelry. A trip, even. He smiled as he finished mixing the glaze, studying it with a critical eye. Yes. This would work.
    His mind calm, he shifted his focus to the other task at hand—cutting himself off from the other loves of his life. His hunts, his games. For a second, the rage tried to emerge, rage at Nia … coming here, screwing it all up—
    Then he stopped, made himself breathe, made himself think.
    “What’s done is done, right?”
    The ringing of his phone interrupted the passive, placid pace of his thoughts. Frowning, he made his way to the dusty thing—he’d turned his cell phone off. He never used it in here and Roz knew better than to call him while he was working.
    Only in emergencies. She knew that.
    “Hello?”
    “Oh … you are there.” She sounded surprised. She paused and he could hear her agitated breathing.
    “Yes, I’m here. I’ve got a lot of work to get done, too. What’s wrong, angel?”
Angel …
she was his angel. He’d seen that on the bracelet he’d given her, liked to call her that while she wore it.
    “Carter, baby, I know you hate it when I call you while you’re working, but …” Her voice broke. “My bracelet. That beautiful one you gave me after you got back from Chicago? It’s missing.”
    He stiffened. Through stiff lips, he echoed, “Missing?”
    “Yes. I … well, I had a call from Lena. Nia and Law were over, and I thought maybe they were wanting to talk about a wedding package or something—you can see they are gone over on each other. The clasp was giving me trouble again and I just left it on my desk when Lena called. She was upset and …” She was talking so fast her words were running into each other.
    Carter swore and reached up, skimming his hand along his smooth scalp. He never wore his hairpiece in here. It got too hot and when he sweated in it, it made it that much more often he had to clean it. It was a pain in the ass to clean, too, something he had to see to himself, because he didn’t want others knowing.
    Only Roz knew about his hair loss—something that had crept up on him after college. He’d hated it at first, but over time, he realized it was better. Without hair, he was less likely to leave evidence, a blessing in disguise.
    But right now, the feel of his naked scalp was just another irritation, one that would boil out of control. Why in the
fuck
did things keep going
wrong
?
    The calm he’d found in his short time here was threatening to disappear, but he clung to it. Forcing himself to speak quietly and coolly, he said, “Roz, you need to slow down. What
happened
?”
    “I … well, I feel awful saying this, but I think Nia might have stolen it.”
    His calm exploded in a blast of fury. And more than a little fear.
    Son of a bitch.
    That cunt knew about Katia.
*   *   *
    Lena King might not be able to see, but she didn’t need eyes to sense the storm of emotion cutting through the air.
    With one leg drawn up to her chest, she tried to track Roz’s movements, but the woman was moving too damn fast.
    “You going to tell me what has you so mad?”
    “What?