A/N: This is for all the fans of Dangerous Homecoming (original work Secret Stalker… I am always renaming someone's work wrongly._.) Thanks again to krazykay23 and monni2215 and all the others who are reading that story after I posted it in a rush of updates. Thanks to all you readers for your continued support and kind words and for being dedicated members of the Samcedes fanfiction family. Standard disclaimer: I own probably ten percent of this story, the rest of the credit goes to the author Delores Fossen and creators/writers of Glee.

Triggers: gun and bomb violence and survivor's guilt.

Chapter One

The moment that Mercedes Jones opened her front door, she heard something she didn't want to hear.

Silence.

There were no pulsing beeps from the security system. No flare of the bead of red light on the panel, warning her that she had ten seconds to disarm it or the alarms would sound. That meant someone had tampered with it.

The killer had found her.

The fear came, cold and sharp like a gleaming razor slicing through her, and it brought the memories right along with it. Nothing though, not even the fear, was as scalpel sharp as those images that tore into her mind.

She dropped the bag of groceries and the gob of keys she'd been holding, and Mercedes grabbed the snub-nosed .38 from her purse. Just holding the weapon created a different kind of panic inside her because in the back of her mind, she knew that it wouldn't be enough to stop him.

No.

This time the killer would get to her. This time, he would finish what he'd started a year ago and make sure that the ragged breaths she was dragging in and out were the last ones she would ever take.

She forced herself to go as still as she could. Tried to steady her heartbeat, too, so she could listen for any sound of him in the small house. It wouldn't do any good to run. She'd learned that the hard way the last time he'd come after her—because running had been exactly what he'd expected her to do.

Maybe even what he'd wanted her to do.

It had been a game to him, and he'd been ready. Good at it, too. That's how he'd been able to fire three bullets into her before she'd barely taken a step. She, who was often thought of as an empath able to read people and guess their actions, had been blindsided by him.

"Where are you?" Mercedes asked, still standing in the doorway. A whisper was all she could manage with her throat clamped tight, but the sound still carried through the quiet house. Too quiet. As silent as the grave.

He didn't answer, no one did, so Mercedes tried again. This time, though, she used his name.

"Ryder?"

She got out more than a whisper with that try. Her voice actually sounded a whole lot stronger than she felt, but any strength, fake or otherwise, wouldn't scare him off. If Ryder Lynn had any fears, Mercedes had never been able to figure them out, and uncovering that sort of thing was her specialty.

Had been her specialty, she mentally corrected.

These days, she didn't teach criminal justice classes and didn't assist the FBI with creating criminal profiles for serial killers like Ryder. Instead, she input data for a research group, a low-level computer job that the marshals had arranged for her. The only talent she had now was getting easily spooked and having reoccuring nightmares.

And speaking of being spooked, every nerve inside her went on full alert when she heard the sound of the engine. Mercedes automatically brought up the gun as she'd been trained to do. She forced herself not to pull the trigger though. Good thing, too, because it wasn't Ryder. However, it was someone else who shouldn't be here.

Sheriff Sam Evans.

Mercedes instantly recognized him even from this distance and behind the windshield of the unfamiliar white truck. Of course, it would have been hard not to notice Sam. The cowboy cop was tall, lanky...unforgettable. Mercedes knew because she'd had zero success in forgetting him.

Sam got out of his truck, but he stopped when he spotted her .38, and he pulled out his gun in a slick, fluid motion. "Is Ryder Lynn here?" he called out.

His words didn't ease her thudding heartbeat. Even though she hadn't seen Sam in the year since her attack, Mercedes hoped this was his version of a social visit. Not that they had any reason to be social, now that the hurt and blame was between them. However, if he hadn't come here to find out how she was, then perhaps he'd tell her that she was imagining things. That her WITSEC identity hadn't been compromised, that no one had actually tampered with her security system and that she was safe.

But Sam wasn't giving her much of a reassuring look.

With his gaze firing all around them, he hurried onto the porch, automatically catching on to her arm and pushing her behind him. Protecting her. Which only confirmed to her that she needed to be protected.

"Is Ryder here?" Sam repeated.

Mercedes knew this was going to make her sound crazy. "I haven't actually seen him since the night he attacked me, but someone turned off my security system." She swallowed hard before she added the rest. "I sensed he was here. And I think he's been watching me. He found me."

Those last three words had not been easy to say, and they'd had to make their way through the muscles in her throat that felt as if they were strangling her.

Even though Sam hadn't given her much reassurance before, she waited for some now. But he didn't give her any. "Are you sure you just didn't forget to set the alarm when you went out?"

Mercedes wanted to laugh, but it definitely wouldn't be from humor. "I'm positive."

Even though she was living her fake life with a fake name that the marshals had given her, all the steps didn't mean she was safe. Mercedes knew that, and it was why she was obsessive about taking precautions. Not just with arming the security system but carrying the .38.

"Do you know for sure if anyone's actually inside the house?" Sam pressed.

Mercedes shook her head, and she was about to explain that she'd stopped in the doorway. No explanation was necessary though. Because that's when Sam glanced down at the floor where she'd dropped her groceries and keys. It was the kind of sweeping glance that cops made, and while Sam didn't exactly look like most cops, he was a blue blood to the core. A third-generation sheriff of Blue Ridge, Tennessee—their hometown.

Of course, he'd only gotten that sheriff's badge after his own father had been murdered, and she knew Sam would have gladly given it up to have his father back.

"Stay right next to me," Sam insisted, and he stepped into the small entry. The moment they were both inside, he motioned for her to shut the door.

Mercedes did, and while she kept a firm grip on her gun, they stood there, listening. With her body sandwiched between Sam and the door. The back of him pressed against the front of her.

It stirred different kinds of memories.

Of the heat that had once simmered between them. Of the long, lingering looks that he'd once given her with green piercing eyes. Her friends always joked that he would make her pregnant just from the eye sex he gave her whenever she sang or danced to a sexy song. She tried to force herself to not remember the way his big rough hands had skimmed over her thick body. Years ago, they'd been sweethearts but had drifted apart when she'd left for college in California while he chose to remain in their hometown. Years later they'd found their way back to each other and likely would have reconciled if Ryder hadn't struck first. After that, well, Sam no longer wanted her in any way.

Because he blamed her for his father's death.

Of course, he blamed himself, too, which had put an even bigger wedge between them. Sam would never be able to forgive himself for what'd happened, and Mercedes wasn't sure she could forgive him for not being able to stop it.

All that lack of forgiveness was why she knew something was horribly wrong. This was the last place Sam would have wanted to come, and she was the last person he'd want to try to protect.

"Wait here while I have a look around," Sam insisted. "And lock the door. If you hear anything, and I mean anything, get down on the floor." He glanced back over his shoulder at her, and she saw that his jaw had tightened even more than it had been when he'd first arrived. "Understand?" he added.

There was a lot of anger and old baggage in that word understand. The last time she hadn't listened to a sheriff, she'd nearly been killed and two people had been murdered. Maybe three since one of the possible victims, Tina Chang, was still missing and presumed dead. She would definitely listen this time.

Sam stepped away from her, heading first to the kitchen, where he checked the pantry. Since the living room, dining room and kitchen were all open, she had no trouble seeing him, but that changed when he went into the bedrooms. First hers and then the guest room. Mercedes just stood there, waiting and praying. If Ryder was indeed inside, she didn't want him claiming another victim.

Especially a victim who was trying to protect her.

That's what Sam's father, Dwight, had been doing the night Ryder had gunned down him and his deputy. Then Ryder had escaped and hadn't been seen in the past year. But unlike the people he'd murdered that night, Ryder was very much alive. Mercedes could feel that all the way down to her breath and bones.

It seemed to take an eternity or two, but Sam finally came out from the bedrooms, and he shook his head. "He's not here, but your bedroom window was open. I'm guessing you didn't leave it that way?"

The air stalled in her throat, and it took her a moment to answer. "No. I've never opened that window." Heck, the only times she'd ever opened the curtains was to make sure the window was closed and locked.

He nodded, and the grunt he made let her know that it was the answer he'd expected. "So, someone's been here. Maybe Ryder." He went to the keypad for the alarm, brushing against her arm as he walked by her. It was barely a touch, but she noticed.

So did Sam.

Their gazes connected for a split second before he mumbled some profanity and looked away. He sounded disgusted with himself. Maybe because he didn't want to feel that quick punch of attraction. Mercedes didn't want to feel it, either. It was a distraction, and something like that could get them both killed.

Sam took out his phone and texted someone. Perhaps one of his brothers who were all in law enforcement. Mercedes took out her phone, too, ready to call her handler, Marshal Sue Sylvester, but Sam shook his head.

"Don't involve your handler yet," he said. "There's been a leak, and I haven't discovered the source."

Mercedes lost what little breath she'd managed to regain, and because she had no choice, she leaned against the wall for support. Sam helped, too. Well, he did after he muttered more of that profanity. He took hold of her arm, marched her to the sofa and had her sit before he went to the window. Keeping watch.

"What happened?" she asked. "Tell me about the leak."

He glanced back at her, his tight jaw letting her know she should brace herself, that what he was about to say would be bad news. "There's been another murder."

Mercedes was glad she was sitting down, but she had to shake her head. Sam was a sheriff, and while Blue Ridge wasn't exactly a hotbed of crime, murders did happen there. That was something that Sam and she both had too much experience with. However, Mercedes couldn't figure out why a murder there would have brought Sam here to her WITSEC house in Knoxville, a good ninety miles from Blue Ridge. Unless...

"Did Ryder kill someone else?" she managed to say.

Sam's hesitation confirmed that that was indeed what had happened. "We found the body about two hours ago."

Two hours. That meant Sam had left the crime scene and come straight to her. "Who was killed?" she snapped.

Judging from the way his forehead bunched up, he didn't want to tell her. But then she knew it was connected to her, or Sam wouldn't be here. "Holly Holiday," he finally answered.

That felt like the slam of another bullet into her. Oh, God. Holly. Mercedes knew her, of course. She knew almost everyone in Blue Ridge. Holly had been her favorite teacher in high school.

Mercedes wasn't sure she could stomach hearing the answer to this, but it was a question she had to ask. "You're sure she was murdered? And how do you know it was Ryder?"

Without taking his attention from the window, he pulled up a photo on his phone and handed it to her. "That was left at the crime scene. And as for how we know it's murder, Holly died from three gunshot wounds to the torso."

The slams and punches just kept coming, and each of them brought one more wave of the nightmarish images. That's because Ryder had shot both Mercedes and Sam's father three times. She supposed Ryder considered that his signature. One of them anyway. Leaving notes at the crime scenes was the other. And the picture on Sam's phone was that of a note.

"'Too late again, Sheriff Evans,'" she read aloud. "'Tell Mercedes that Holly didn't suffer. I made it fast as a favor to her. And then tell Mercedes that she's next. I know where to find her. Three-twenty-three East Lane, Knoxville. Our girl didn't go too far, did she?'"

As hard as it was to read those words, Mercedes tamped down the rising fear and tried to view this as a profiler. The note was meant to taunt Sam and her.

And it had.

Along with twisting her insides into knots. Judging from the tight muscles in Sam's body, it had done the same to him. However, this wasn't proof there had been a breach in WITSEC.

"How would Ryder have gotten access to WITSEC files?" she mumbled.

Mercedes waved it off though before Sam could even speculate. Ryder was smart, and he was a whiz with computers. He'd even joked once that he would have made a fairly decent hacker, and then had added to the joke that Tina and she would have made even better ones. Ryder wouldn't have needed help from anyone in WITSEC to get into the files because he could have done it himself.

"So, Ryder knows where I am," she concluded. "He killed Holly to...what? Send me into a panic? A rage, maybe? To hurt me by murdering someone I knew? Because panicked, angry people don't always think straight, and they make mistakes."

Sam huffed. "Best to save me from hearing your criminal analysis on Ryder. When the FBI was looking for him, he was right under your nose, and you didn't even know it."

Because Sam glanced at her again when he said that, she saw the glare in his eyes. She saw it soften, too, when he regretted giving her that jab.

But in this case, it was true, and she deserved any jab he might send her way. That's because Ryder had been her student in a criminal justice class before she'd made him her intern. He'd worked side by side with her, case by case, and until the night he'd tried to murder her, she hadn't known he was a serial killer.

That was the ultimate taunting.

"I believe Ryder was here," Sam continued a moment later. "He killed Holly last night so he had plenty of time to get from Blue Ridge to Knoxville. Plenty of time to watch you and wait for you to leave so he could break into your house."

Yes, but why hadn't Ryder just stayed and waited for her? Had he found out Sam was coming, and Ryder hadn't wanted to deal with a lawman? Especially one who wanted him dead.

Still, that didn't feel right.

Of course, she'd learned the hard way that it was a mistake to trust her feelings when it came to Ryder.

"There's Steven," Sam said, his voice shattering the silence.

Steven, as in his brother Deputy Steven Evans. And he was yet someone else who would want to face down Ryder.

"Steven's been working with Knoxville PD to set up spotters on the road," Sam added. "Don't worry, Steven didn't tell the local cops who you really are. He said you're a witness in an upcoming trial and that we need to get you back to Blue Ridge."

Her legs suddenly felt like glass, but she forced herself to stand. Mercedes also glanced out the window. Steven was indeed out there, sitting behind the wheel of a black car.

"Are you really taking me to Blue Ridge?" she asked.

"Best not to say where we're going in case Ryder bugged the place."

Oh, mercy. She hadn't even thought of that. But she should have. Ryder had succeeded in rattling her, and he had likely figured that was the first step in getting to her.

"Don't bring anything with you," Sam instructed when she reached for her purse.

Yes, because Ryder could have planted tracking devices on clothes or anything else in the house. She'd had her purse with her when she'd gotten groceries, but maybe Ryder had managed to put a tracker on it before that quick shopping trip. Or even while she was at the store. She couldn't take her phone either because he could use it to pinpoint her location. Then, he could follow wherever Sam was taking her.

Sam motioned toward his brother, and Steven got out of the car. Like Sam, he already had his weapon drawn, which meant any of her neighbors could see that and become alarmed. Maybe alarmed enough to come outside and try to figure out what was going on. No one had shown much interest in her in the nine months she'd been there, and now wouldn't be a good time to start.

"Move fast," Sam said, and that was the only warning she got before he took hold of her, positioning her right next to him. He opened the door and got them moving.

"Aww, don't be that way," someone said in a familiar eerie voice that sent chills down Mercedes's spine..

Ryder.

They turned their heads in the direction of the taunting voice. The voice that came from behind them, from inside the house, and Sam must have recognized this too, because he dragged her to the ground next to the concrete steps.

"Don't leave before we have time to play," Ryder joked and laughed as if he was the Joker come to life from the big he the deranged serial killer continued to laugh just as the shot blasted through the air.

Oh bloody hell. Sam wanted to kick himself for not getting to Mercedes sooner so this wouldn't happen.

But he hadn't been sure who he could trust, hadn't known how the info about Mercedes's location had been breached. His brother Evander was a marshal and would have been his normal contact for something like this, but Evander was in Arizona escorting a prisoner. That's why Sam had tried to handle this himself.

Now none of that mattered because they could both be gunned down by a serial killer.

Sam scrambled over Mercedes, pushing her all the way to the ground so he could cover her with his body. It wasn't an ideal position, nothing about this was. They were literally out in the open with only the steps for cover. That wouldn't do squat to protect them if Ryder came around the side of the house and through a back door. Of course, if he did that, then Steven would see him.

"Were either of you hit?" Steven called out.

Sam shook his head and hoped that was true. Beneath him, Mercedes was trembling. No doubt reliving a boatload of memories, too. But he couldn't tell if she'd been injured, and Sam didn't want to risk moving off her to find out.

While Steven made a call, no doubt to get them backup, his brother had taken up cover behind the door of the unmarked cruiser. It was bullet resistant, which meant if Sam could get Mercedes to it, she'd be a whole lot safer than she was here. But there was a good twenty feet of space between them and Steven. That was twenty feet that Ryder could use to gun them down.

Well, maybe.

When Sam had searched Mercedes's house, Ryder hadn't been inside. And Sam had shut and re-locked the open window along with checking to make sure no other locks had been tampered with. So, how had Ryder gotten in?

Or had he?

There was something else off about this. The angle of the shot seemed to have been all wrong. It was hard to tell, but instead of coming from inside the house, the bullet had been fired more to the left side of it. If that's indeed where the shooter was, then he and Mercedes wouldn't have been able to see him. Neither would Steven—which could be the exact reason the shot had been fired from there.

And that led him to something else that didn't fit.

Ryder himself.

There was no reason for Ryder to put himself in the middle of what could turn out to be a gunfight. Way too risky. No, he was more the lay-in-wait type, and if he'd truly wanted Mercedes dead, he would have just waited inside and shot her when she'd opened the door. That would have given him a minute or two to flee before Sam had even arrived.

So, who'd fired the shot? And where the hell was Ryder?

"I think the voice we heard could have been a recording," Sam whispered to Mercedes.

She went still, obviously giving that some thought, then nodding. A recorder wouldn't have been that hard to hide if Ryder had indeed managed to come in earlier through the window. Also, it would give Ryder an advantage if they thought he was inside the house. That's where they would be pinpointing their focus when the real danger could be at the side of the house. Or even across the street from them.

That sent Sam snapping in that direction. "Get down!" he yelled to Steven. Sam hadn't actually seen anything, but a year of chasing Ryder had told him to expect the unexpected when dealing with the snake.

Steven did drop down, putting his body behind the door. Just as another shot came. And just as Sam had thought, this one came from a house directly across the street. This time, he got a glimpse of the shooter who'd fired out the second-story window. A bulky guy dressed all in black, and he was using a rifle with a scope. If Steven hadn't ducked when he had, he'd be dead.

Which might have been Ryder's intent all along.

In addition to being a snake, Ryder also liked to torment his victims, and killing Steven would have definitely accomplished that. Along with adding another huge layer of guilt and grief they were already feeling because of his father's murder.

"Hold your position," Sam instructed Steven. "How long before the local cops get here?"

"About five minutes," Steven answered. "I've texted them to let them know about the gunfire."

That meant Knoxville PD wouldn't come in with guns blazing. They'd stay back, evaluating the situation while trying to figure how to get Mercedes safely out of there. Sam and Steven would be doing the same thing. Because Sam didn't want anyone dying today. Ryder had already claimed enough lives.

Another shot came—again from the second floor of the neighbor's house. The bullet blasted into the stone steps just inches from where he and Mercedes were. Steven pivoted and returned fire. It worked because the gunman ducked out of sight. That didn't mean he was leaving, but the guy might think twice before appearing in the window again.

"I need to stop this," Mercedes whispered, and she mumbled something else he didn't catch. "One of my neighbors could get hurt."

That could have already happened. The shooter could have harmed or killed anyone else who happened to be in that house just so he could use the window to launch the attack. However, it was also possible that her neighbor was working for Ryder. Or maybe Ryder had simply hired some thug to break into the house and fire the shots. Either way, Sam wasn't seeing how Mercedes would be able to do anything to put an end to this.

However, Mercedes must have thought she could do something because she moved, levering herself up on her arms and lifting her head. "I'll try to bargain with Ryder. It's me he wants."

Sam put her right back down on the ground. "You don't know that. Don't get Steven and me killed because we're trying to protect you."

Yeah, it was harsh, but it worked because Mercedes stayed put. Besides, it was partly true. He didn't wear a badge for decoration, and that meant he'd do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Even though Sam seriously doubted that it was possible to negotiate with Ryder, he took out his phone. He was about to shout out for Ryder to call him, but before he could do that, his cell rang, and he saw Unknown Caller pop up on the screen. He hit the answer button and put it on Speaker so he could keep his hands free in case he had to return fire.

"Want to talk, do you, Sheriff?" Ryder asked.

Just hearing the sound of the killer's voice caused the anger to roar through Sam. He hated this man for what he'd done, and Sam wished he could reach through the phone line and end this piece of slime once and for all.

"Call off your hired thug," Sam warned him.

"I will...in about four minutes, give or take some seconds. That's about when the city cops will get there."

Sam wasn't sure if Ryder had heard Steven say that, but it was just as possible the shooter across the street had relayed that info to him. Not just that info, either, but every move they were making. It was highly likely that Ryder wasn't anywhere near Mercedes's house.

"Why are you doing this? Why now?" Sam demanded while he continued to keep watch around them.

That included keeping watch of Mercedes.

Her breathing was way too fast now, and it was possible she was about to have a panic attack. God knew what kind of psychological damage had been done to her because of what had happened a year ago. Of course, she was hearing the voice of the man who'd nearly killed her, so Sam doubted she was going to have much luck reining in her fear.

"Why now?" Ryder repeated. "Well, duh. Because it's nearly the anniversary of your daddy's death. Which I'm sure you remember to the nth degree. I'll bet my soon to be departed Mercedes remembers it, too. She has been living on borrowed time for much too long."

Unfortunately what the psychopath held a ring of truth. They did remember it. It was impossible to forget that in only three days, it would be a year since their lives had been turned upside down. And apparently Ryder was going to make sure they recalled it by giving them a new set of grisly memories and a deep abiding fear to go along with it.

Sam tried to fight off the images from that night, but they came anyway. The storm with lightning slicing through the sky. Ironic that it was the lightning that had given him glimpses of what was going on. Just flashes of the horror that had started before Sam had even gotten on the scene.

When Mercedes had figured out too late that Ryder was a serial killer the FBI had been after for years, she'd called the sheriff, Sam's father, Dwight, and he'd told Mercedes to wait, not to confront Ryder until he got there. Instead, she'd attempted to stop Ryder when he tried to leave. Ryder had then taken Mercedes and her best friend/research assistant, Tina Chang, hostage. Sam's father, Dwight, and another deputy, Anthony Rashad, had gone in pursuit, only minutes ahead of Sam who'd gotten the call after them.

His dad and Anthony had come upon Ryder's vehicle that had skidded off the road because of the storm. The accident had happened in front of an abandoned hotel with the mocking name of Serenity Inn. A crumbling Victorian mansion with acres of overgrown gardens and dark windows that had looked like darkened eye sockets. Ryder had forced the women at gunpoint onto the grounds, and Anthony and his father had followed.

That's when Sam had arrived.

Just in time to hear the crack of the gunfire, and then seconds later, he'd seen his father lying, bleeding—dying—on the weed-choked, muddy ground.

Sam had ordered Anthony to call for an ambulance and stay with Dwight while he went in pursuit of Ryder who had slipped into the house with the women. Because of more of those flashes of lightning, Sam had seen Ryder shoot Mercedes in the shell of what had once been the grand foyer. He'd seen her collapse, and while he was saving her life by stopping the blood flow, Ryder had escaped with Tina in the dark maze of rooms, halls and stairs. Sam hadn't even managed to get off a shot for fear of hitting Tina.

For all the good that'd done.

While Sam had been saving Mercedes, Ryder had shot through one of the windows at Anthony, killing the deputy instantly. Sam hadn't known it then, but his father was already dead.

Later, they'd found Tina's blood in one of the rooms but not her body though. No Ryder, either. Just a dead sheriff and deputy who'd been doing their jobs and an injured profiler who hadn't done her job nearly well enough.

"You screwed up the investigation," Ryder went on. "You didn't get things right when it came to solving your father's murder."

"What the hell are you talking about? You killed him. I got that right." Sam snapped. Then, he reminded himself, again, that Ryder liked playing the tormenter, and what better way to do that than by implying that Sam had botched something as important as the investigation that followed the murder and Mercedes's attack?

"You need to take a second look at the details of your father's case. The devil is in those details," Ryder went on. "That's what this warning is all about."

"Warning?" Sam questioned. "You had someone shoot at us. That's more than a warning."

"My man didn't hit you, did he?" Ryder said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

In the distance, Sam heard a welcome sound. Sirens from the responding police officers. Now, he had to hope that the cops' arrival didn't cause the gunman to open fire again.

"Time's running out," Ryder added, which meant he'd likely heard the sirens, too. "Gotta go."

Of course, he wasn't staying around for this. And his hired gun must have felt the same way because Sam saw him run from the window.

Getting away.

That was better than trying to gun them down again, but Sam hated that the shooter would escape. Sam wanted to chase down the idiot and make him pay for what he'd done. But that would mean leaving Mercedes—and she'd then be an easy target for Ryder.

"One more thing," Ryder said. "My advice would be for you to run because things are about to get very...loud."

Ryder ended the call, and it didn't take Sam long, just a couple of seconds, for him to realize what was about to happen.

"Cover us," Sam shouted to his brother.

He hooked his arm around Mercedes's waist, dragging her to her feet, and with her in tow, Sam started running toward the unmarked cruiser. Good thing, too.

Because behind them, Mercedes's house exploded into a fireball.