Page 41 of The Devoted Game

4:30 p.m.

“I know I’ve never visited your fair city before, Grace,” McBride said with a leisurely look around at the passing landscape, “but I’m reasonably sure this isn’t the way to my hotel.”

Definitely not the way to his hotel.Vivian reminded herself that the job sometimes required going above and beyond the call of duty.Thisfell precisely there.

“You need some serious sleep, McBride. Worth is arranging security for you since we know Devoted Fan has been monitoring your hotel. Until then you’re staying with me.” Even as she said the words, Vivian’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel and a twisting sensation pulled at her stomach.Mistake! Mistake!Her internal alarm screamed at her, but she mentally slammed the snooze button. Couldn’t worry about that right now. Like Worth said, she was the only one McBride even halfway trusted.

After Worth had issued the order, she had rushed outside to find McBride waiting by her SUV. Part of her had been afraid he had left ... though that would have been difficult since he didn’t have any transportation. But she had known how angry he was, as much at himself as at Devoted Fan or Worth.

It was her job to see that he cooled off and got some sleep.Big mistake.She turned onto Valley Avenue, headed over to Ashland Drive.

“Well, damn, Grace.” McBride turned those assessing blue eyes in her direction. “All this time I thought you were going to take the prize for being the most uptight hot chick I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and then you go and take me home with you.”

She was certain there was a compliment in there somewhere. “This is only for a few hours, McBride. I intend to make sure you eat and sleep, in that order.” With another pointed look in his direction, she added, “Maybe a shower first.”

“You’re the boss,” he said with a truckload of innuendo.

They had both gotten pretty grungy during the rescue. Her suit might just be beyond saving. The dry cleaner would likely take one look and shake his head. She couldn’t wait to get it off. The more she thought about the sweat and filth, the more she itched. With Devoted Fan’s latest communication there was time for the essentials like food, a bath, and some sleep. Trying to push forward without rest was a recipe for disaster. Pratt, Aldridge, Schaffer, and Davis would rotate nine-hour shifts for the next thirty-six. Unless Forensics came up with something from Katherine Jones’s car, the fan letter list and a meager description of the unsub were all they had and someone had to stay on it.

As much as Vivian hated to think this way, sometimes another victim was the only way to gain new evidence, like additional factors for attempting to connect the victims or to ascertain an MO.

And Devoted Fan was going to strike again. There was no way to stop it. Worth had released minimal information to the public without mentioning McBride’s name. Holding out as regards the potential threat wasn’t an option any longer. Male, fifty or older, eyeglasses, random abductions. That was basically all they had to release ... all they had, period. But if releasing the information would put folks on guard, maybe Devoted Fan’s job would be a little more difficult.

The knowing it was going to happen and that there was nothing they could do but wait was almost worse than chasing clues after the fact.

Vivian waved to the guard on duty at the gate leading to her secure neighborhood and drove on through. A minute later she pulled overto the curb in front of her town house. There was a garage entrance in back, but since she would leave again in a few hours she didn’t bother. “This is it.”

Grabbing her purse, she climbed out of the SUV and rounded the hood. McBride got out and shoved the passenger side door shut, then took his time assessing the place she called home. She secured the vehicle and strode up the walk, ignoring his blatant appraisal.

The neighbor’s dog had knocked over a pot of geraniums again; she paused long enough to right it. She didn’t have time for pets, but she did have flowers. Filling the pots each season was her therapy, according to her mother. Vivian just liked the idea of cultivating something.

At the door, she shoved her key into the lock. She loved the brick with its hints of pink and the white columns that set the front facade of her place apart from the neighbors’. It was hers. Her safe haven. She had barely gotten settled, but it felt like home already. That part had come as a surprise, considering she didn’t want to be here.

Inside, she tossed her purse and keys onto the table by the door and took a deep breath, letting go of a big chunk of stress. She was glad to see this day end.

“I’ll call for a food delivery,” she offered. “My go-to place has the best beef tips. How do you like yours cooked?”

“Medium.”

She tapped the contact in her cell and waited through the recorded spiel for a live voice to answer. As she placed the order, she removed her weapon and shoulder holster and went into her bedroom to put both in the bedside table drawer the way she did every night. Vivian thanked the voice on the phone that assured her the order would arrive within forty-five minutes. She would have to prowl around in the fridge for a snack to tide her over; she was starved.

“The food’s going to be—” She found McBride on her sofa thumbing through a photo album. That privacy invasion sent her guard up. “Forty-five minutes.”

He closed the album, set it aside, and sank back in the cushions, the navy of his shirt a stark contrast to the white slipcover of her sofa ... to the white of the wall behind it. She hadn’t realized until that moment how bland and white her space was. Everything about him seemed to stand out, left all else in obscurity. The darkness of his clothes ... the shadow of a day’s beard growth. His tanned skin. And that probing gaze that locked in on her as if she were a target.

She wasn’t letting him do that to her ... not here ... not now with them alone. Bringing him home had been a risk, but like Worth said, the unsub was watching him. Leaving him alone in that hotel room was a bigger risk. And McBride wouldn’t have agreed to go with anyone else.

“I know what you’re thinking, Grace.” He draped his arms across the back of her sofa as if inviting her to join him.

Oh, no he didn’t. He couldn’t possibly have a clue what was on her mind. If he did, he would be arguing that a big tough guy like him could definitely take care of himself. And he could, she had no doubt. But this twisted unsub, Devoted Fan, was smart, just like McBride said. He planned his every move down to the last detail. No mistakes were made in the carrying out of those plans, which indicated there wasn’t a high level of excitement or passion involved in the execution. Determination, satisfaction maybe, but nothing so undisciplined as any of the more thrilling emotions. With this latest victim and the vague description they had from the witness, Quantico was attempting to put together a basic profile.

But she already knew what it would say. Obsessed. Relentless. He wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. The scary question was, did he really know what he wanted? A man as brilliant as he surely had to know he couldn’t manipulate the Federal Bureau of Investigation. With that on the table, what was his ultimate goal?

“You’re thinking,” McBride picked up where he’d left off, “that you need to protect me.”

She could only imagine where he was going with this. “I know, I know. You’re big and strong.” She strode across the room, picked up the photo album, and tucked it back on the shelf where it belonged. “You don’t need protecting.”

He rose from that white background in one fluid motion and took a step toward her. “But I do.”