Forbidden Passion by Rita Herron

her, so she could compose herself. She couldn’t rely on Dante or anyone else. And she certainly couldn’t care about him— loving people meant losing them, and she didn’t dare put herself in the position of feeling that kind of pain again.
    As soon as Dante ended that call, he punched in another number. “This is Sheriff Zertlav. I want a security system installed in Dr. Marlena Bender’s house ASAP.”
    Marlena gaped at him, then grabbed his arm. “Dante, what are you doing?”
    He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Doing what you should have done when you moved back here. Making your house more secure.”
    Angry at his criticism, she shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable of arranging for a security system myself.”
    His brown eyes pierced her, but he didn’t stop the call. Instead, he gave the person on the other end of the line her address.
    Marlena folded her arms and glared at him. “You had no right to do that.”
    “I’m just trying to look out for your safety,” Dante said bluntly.
    “I can take care of myself, Dante.”
    - He flicked his hand toward the grotesque shrine Gerald Daumer had built. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
    “I’ve dealt with psychotics and sociopaths before. I’ve even interviewed serial killers.” Although none of them had targeted her personally.
    A muscle ticked in his jaw as he worked his mouth from side to side. He obviously thought she was foolish.
    “They can’t install the system for a couple of days,” Dante said, ignoring her earlier comment. “So after the CSI team gets here to process this place, I’ll take you home and stay with you tonight.”
    Unleashed anger tinged his words, but the heat in his eyes contradicted the anger. Was he being chivalrous or just doing his job?
    But something else, something sexual rippled the air between them, a lust that stirred desires she hadn’t acted on in years.
    Still, silently she admitted that she didn’t want to be alone.
    She wanted him in her bed, holding her, loving her, making her forget the horror of Jordie’s murder and this hideous shrine.
    But she couldn’t forget bow they’d met. That death stood between them. That it was the only thing that had brought them together years ago, just as it was doing now.
     
     
    Dante cut his gaze away from Marlena, desperate to break the spell she’d cast on him. ‘No woman had ever turned him inside out like -this, made him want to forget that he was a demon.
    He didn’t want to care if she lived or died, but he did, dammit.
    Hands balling into fists, he spun back to the wall Daumer had created, methodically searching for some
    sign of how he’d chosen his victim. One killer chose all blonds. One chose prostitutes. One focused on women who reminded the killer of his dead mother.
    With only one victim he couldn’t yet determine a pattern.
    Adrenaline churning, he searched desk drawers, the closet, beneath the mattress, every place he could imagine for a list of future targets, but came up with zilch.
    “What are you looking for?” Marlena stood and studied the photographs and images in the shrine as well.
    “For some pattern that might tell us who he’ll choose next.”
    “I’ll try to put together a profile,” Marlena said.
    Finally the CSI team arrived and began to process the house.
    “Let’s get his phone records, dust the place for prints, search for blood, any trace evidence you can find to help us nail this guy,” Dante ordered.
    Dante went into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and found several razors. A check of the trash and he discovered a bloody one in the mess.
    “He might have been suicidal.” Marlena looked over his shoulder. “I didn’t notice that he was a cutter, but he wore long sleeves, so the marks could have been hidden.”
    “Or he could have been practicing,” Dante said. But he hadn’t used a razor on Jordie; the lacerations on her neck had been inflicted by teeth.
    That bothered him most