A tap on the window had her jumping in her seat. She jerked around, and Dominic Sheridan stood beside her car, dressed down in a pair of gray sweats and a blue plaid shirt with the two top buttons left undone. He was barefoot.
He looked awful. Both eyes were black, and an ugly gash split the bridge of his nose. Right arm rested in a sling. Her heart gave an unsteady thump at the sight of him, probably because he’d startled her. He still looked too handsome for her peace of mind, but she’d always been attracted to bad boy types, so the battered features actually worked for her more than his clean-cut side did.
There was obviously something wrong with her. Not exactly breaking news.
He stared at her, waiting for her to get out of the car. She lifted her chin. What was she even doing here? Talking about the case, pursuing this investigation, was going to get her fired.
Large splats of rain started pinging off the windshield. He just stood there. The guy was gonna get soaked.
She cracked the door, and he opened it the rest of the way. Then he held out his good hand to assist her out of the car, but she didn’t take it. She sat there looking at him.
He didn’t seem mad at her reticence to touch him. He appeared patient and understanding.
Goddamn it.
She didn’t want his pity, and she wasn’t used to chivalry. Men were a mystery to her. She had a younger brother and nephew she adored, a father who’d died when she was only seven years old, and a series of boyfriends who’d never quite fit. Van had been the best man she’d ever known. And Van had told her over and over again that Dominic Sheridan was a great guy.
Still, trust wasn’t something she easily bestowed.
“I don’t blame you for being angry, Ava. It isn’t fair that you’ve been suspended and I haven’t. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are fully reinstated.”
With those words he broke the spell she was under.
She turned to grab her laptop case and purse from the passenger seat. Sheridan insisted on taking the items from her. She told herself not to be charmed. This was work, and she was more than capable of carrying her own belongings. She’d fought hard to be treated as an equal. He carried them anyway.
“Thanks for insisting on the blood work last night. They found GHB in my system. You saved my ass.” He held her gaze unwaveringly as she got out of the car. “And for taking care of Ranger. If anything had happened to him…I don’t know what I’d do.”
Rain dampened his short hair.
“You’d have done the same for me.” How she knew that she wasn’t sure, but she did.
“Were you hurt last night?” His low voice resonated through her bones.
Rain dotted her skin with pinpricks of sensation. She waited for the lecture on being reckless, but it didn’t come. She shook her head. “Feldman wasn’t hostile, and I handled the four guys in the bar.”
His eyes widened despite their bruised state. Obviously, he hadn’t known there were four men at the bar.
She should shut her mouth before she got herself into more trouble, but she’d never been good at backing down or backing off. She probably needed to figure that out before she got herself fired or killed.
“I made a mistake going back there alone,” she admitted.
“You did what any good agent would do when following a lead—but in the future if you do something like that, send the status update to someone who isn’t in the ICU.” His quick flash of eyebrows told her he’d received her text message about visiting Feldman.
She nodded wearily. She felt more chastened by his calm understanding than by Ray Aldrich chewing out her ass. “You’re okay? Aside from the obvious.” She indicated his face and arm.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry you were hurt. Sorry they destroyed your ride.”
He shrugged. “I got off lucky. I’m glad you weren’t targeted.”
If she’d finished her beer it could easily have been her looking like a bit actor from a Rocky movie.
Sheridan’s expression remained impassive, but his gaze slipped briefly to her lips, and a shiver of arousal ran over her flesh.
He took a step back, and the moment passed. “You’re getting wet. Let’s go inside.”
The rain intensified, and they started jogging toward the house. From his pained expression moving fast hurt, but he kept up the pace before pushing open the extra-wide front door. Ranger greeted them with a tennis ball in his mouth and a tail that never stopped sawing the air.
“Nice place,” she muttered, after greeting the dog.
Sheridan placed her belongings on a long, thin table in the hallway and ducked into a small room down the corridor. He came out with two fluffy towels, one of which he tossed to her. She wiped it over her hair, face and neck, grateful she hadn’t bothered with makeup after the lousy couple of hours’ sleep she’d managed to steal.
She wasn’t trying to impress this man with anything except her abilities as an agent.
Sure.
She looked around. The structure hinted at possibly being an old converted barn that had been added to. She shrugged out of her wet blazer and slipped off her shoes and left them beside the door. The air conditioning caused gooseflesh to rise up on her arms.
Before she could ask exactly why she was here, he said, “Come on through to the back. It’s where I’m set up.”
He moved inside, and she grabbed her stuff and followed along with Ranger, admiring the dark hardwood floors and artwork on the walls—abstract and vivid, and probably original. She passed an office, a living room with two big, oatmeal-colored couches, and beyond that a dining room, which had an enormous, dark wood dining table with eight fancy wooden chairs set around it.
Even though the timber was dark, the overall effect with the large, pale floor rug and light blue-green walls was bright and welcoming. There was a wine rack in one corner along with what was probably a fridge, although it looked like a custom piece of furniture.
“Do you live here alone?” She didn’t know much about the guy, which meant those little tendrils of attraction she was feeling might be completely inappropriate if she was suddenly introduced to Mrs. Dominic Sheridan.
“Yeah.” He looked self-conscious and stuffed his good hand in his pocket. “I know it’s a little big but I wanted somewhere in the countryside but close to work. This place came on the market…” He shrugged as if that explained everything.
She saw a pool through the window, complete with a pool house and pagoda.
Holy crap, he must be loaded.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intimidated. She’d grown up over a restaurant and had waited tables through college. The concept of having money, of not scraping by from paycheck to paycheck and wondering if she’d ever have enough in her bank account for the deposit on a house of her own was mind boggling.
She followed Sheridan through to a spacious kitchen with a tall granite island that had four stools lined up alongside it. It wasn’t the pretty, off-white cabinets or the top of the range appliances that caught her attention. Instead it was the laptop sitting next to a half-eaten sandwich. Sheridan moved the cursor, and an image of a man smiling at the camera filled the screen.
“Who is that?” Her teeth chattered.
Sheridan didn’t answer immediately. He went over and boosted the thermostat and then took her towel and tossed it with his into a room off the kitchen.
He walked back to where she stood beside the laptop, the tightness around his eyes indicating every step hurt.
“That,” he said slowly, “is a guy named Brian Andrews. He was my supervisor when I worked the violent crimes squad in New York. Great guy.” Sheridan’s tone was grim. “He died in a car wreck in Ohio last September.”
Ava held his stare, afraid she knew where this was going.
“While lying in my hospital bed, I started thinking about how many funerals I’d attended in the last year and decided to check out who else might have died that I didn’t know about.�
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He flicked the cursor, and another image appeared. “This is Preston Daniels. He and his wife died the previous Christmas in Utah. Carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty heater.”
“Let me guess, he also worked with you in the New York Field Office.”
Sheridan nodded.
Crap.
Another click. Another face.
“Arnold Biro died of cancer early last year—linked to his work at Ground Zero. He was living in California at the time of his death.” Another photograph. “Ira Mallic suffered a fatal heart attack on Long Island. Jamal Fidan drowned following a boating accident. They all died in the last couple of years.”
Ava’s knees started to buckle, and she sat on the nearest stool. She and Sheridan stared numbly at one another.
“You think someone is targeting FBI agents who worked at the New York Field Office same time you did?”
He rubbed the hint of stubble on his jaw. “Some of these deaths might be natural, but the rate of attrition is way above the national average, especially when we add Van and Calvin Mortimer to the list.”
“Not to mention you…”
“I’m not dead yet.”
The grin he sent her made her mouth go dry. “I suspected Van had been murdered and Calvin Mortimer obviously, but if you’re right…”
“If we’re right, the FBI is looking at a serial killer targeting agents.”
Ava’s fingers clasped one another. “You need to talk to Aldrich again.”
Sheridan looked away. “I thought we could take this information to someone higher than Aldrich.”
“Who?” Ava crossed her arms over her chest. She was so cold she felt like there was a winter storm brewing inside her. A soft, woolen blanket settled over her shoulders. Sheridan moved on as if the act of kindness meant nothing.
“I’ve made a couple of inquiries to people I know,” he said grimly.
“Aldrich isn’t all bad.” She wasn’t sure why she was defending the man. Probably because no one could have replaced Van. Aldrich had never stood a chance as her boss.
“He was an accountant,” Sheridan said like that explained everything.
“I shouldn’t have ignored his orders.”
“He suspended you after someone shot at you—”
“I know what he did!” she snapped and immediately regretted it. Sheridan’s expression turned blank.
“Sorry…” Ava began.
“Forget it.” His tone was brusque and had lost that low urgent intimacy. “What you might not know is Aldrich not only suspended you but also reported you to OPR, and if he finds out you’re still pursuing this case you will lose your job. I guess I should have spelled that out when I called you.”
Ava’s mouth opened in surprise. OPR? The Office of Professional Responsibility. Internal affairs for FBI agents. They could take her job from her in an instant, all because she was trying to get to the truth. She slumped her head onto her arms as they rested on the kitchen island.
She couldn’t lose her job. This was all she’d wanted to do since she was seven years old. “We can’t ignore the evidence—”
“We don’t have any evidence.” Sheridan’s fist clenched as he sat heavily beside her on a stool. He rested his injured arm on the granite counter. “We have a lot of dead agents and a really bad feeling and nothing but curious circumstances suggesting the cases might be related.”
A doorbell chimed throughout the house. Sheridan’s brows rose. Ranger started barking.
“Want me to get that?” Ava asked, climbing to her feet. She dropped the blanket onto the stool.
“No, it’s fine. I asked someone to meet us here, but they’re earlier than I expected. Someone who can help us figure this out and possibly help you keep your job. Assuming you want to keep it?” Those battered indigo eyes assessed her searchingly.
“More than anything in the world, SSA Sheridan.”
The grin that tugged his mouth took her by surprise. “Then you may as well start calling me Dominic. Looks like we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while.”
Ava followed him into the hallway, unsettled by the appeal of that statement. Could Dominic Sheridan really help her get her job back or was she gonna crash and burn just like he had last night?
* * *
Dominic strode to the front door and threw it open, expecting ASAC Lincoln Frazer from the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He blinked at the sight that greeted him.
A neighbor from the opposite side of the road stood on his doorstep carrying a large casserole dish. Her black Mercedes was parked in the driveway. Rain sluiced off her designer raincoat, hair and makeup perfect despite the weather.
“Suzanna. What can I do for you?”
“Oh, Dominic. Hi. I heard what happened yesterday…about the accident. And, oh my gosh—your poor face. Does it hurt?”
He wanted to laugh. Of course it hurt, especially as he was avoiding taking anything stronger than acetaminophen. “Looks worse than it is.”
She raised the dish in case he’d missed its significance. “I know you don’t keep much food in the house so I brought over that beef casserole you like…” She trailed off as Ava strolled into view. “Oh, you have company. Sorry, I assumed you were here alone. I worried you’d be hungry and in need of someone to look after you, but obviously not.”
He looked at Ava who raised both brows as she stuck her hands in her back pockets. Amusement danced in her eyes. “Hey.”
“Suzanna, this is a, er…colleague of mine.” He deliberately paused over the word colleague, giving it an emphasis that suggested much more than a working relationship. Ava smiled politely, not missing a beat.
“Would you like to come in?” Dominic offered.
“Oh, I-I,” Suzanna stammered. “Well, now, no. I can see you are working. I’m so sorry to interrupt.” The pot that had been raised high slumped slightly. “Please take the casserole. I wanted to make sure you had something healthy to eat.”
“This is really kind of you, Suzanna. Thank you.” He took the heavy dish from his neighbor. His injured shoulder screamed in protest, but he didn’t complain.
Ava tilted her head to one side. “Man, I wish I had a neighbor like you. Mine are more likely to hold me at gunpoint than bring me food.”
Suzanna’s brown eyes went wide in shock. “Oh, okay then. Well then, I hope you both enjoy it.”
Dominic started closing the door with his foot.
“I’ll come back tomorrow for the pot.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll drop it back onto your doorstep as soon as we’re done. I don’t want to cause you any inconvenience,” Dominic insisted.
“Okay—” Suzanna’s reply was cut off by the heavy door slamming shut.
Ava stared at him knowingly in the damp cold of the quiet hallway. “That was mighty neighborly indeed.” Her expression was an invitation to share.
He grunted. “Hold you at gunpoint? You live in Fredericksburg.”
She laughed. “A little color doesn’t hurt from a colleague.”
He ignored her smug expression and headed into the kitchen, putting the pot in the oven and leaving it on warm. Suzanna did make great stew.
“Funny how she knew about the state of your fridge.” Ava’s eyebrows did the rest of the talking.
He rubbed his face and gave up. “She stayed over after a party at another neighbor’s house last Christmas.” He had little recollection of what happened between them except for the fact they’d both woken up naked in his bed. He’d been mortified. “I should never have…” He pursed his lips. “Anyway. She, hmm, wanted more.”
“You didn’t. I get it. Trust me, I get it.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her jeans, and he felt like an asshole.
“She deserves a lot more than I have to offer. She has a kid, although I’ve never met him. Lives with his dad apparently.” He cleared his throat feeling sheepish. The guilt he’d felt for the last eight months swirled inside him, amorphous and unpleasant.
Ava breathed out heavily. “Did you ever think that if maybe you talked to her like an adult, she might stop trying so hard?”
Why was he immediately the bad guy? “I did talk to her. I sat her down the morning after we had sex. I sat her down again a week later after she came to my door hoping for a repeat.” And again, a month later. Talking hadn’t worked, and every time he saw the woman, he felt more and more of a reprobate.
Ava’s mouth thinned in disapproval.
“It didn’t make me feel good, Ava. I felt like a jerk, but I’d have been more of a jerk not to have that conversation. I don’t ghost people, I’m upfront and honest.”
She looked at him dubiously.
“And I like sex, okay? Is that a crime between consenting adults?” Christ, why was he even talking about this?
“Of course not.” Her voice squeaked. Her cheeks flamed beet-red. The idea he could make Ava Kanas blush did something to his insides. He didn’t like that either.
She hadn’t seemed bashful yesterday when they’d been discussing blow jobs. But they’d gotten personal rather than talking about work. Ironic, as he was not the sort of person to over share. Something about Ava Kanas made him do things he didn’t normally do. He wanted to know her. Wanted to know what made her tick.
Not physically. Nothing physical could happen between them. He was too old for her and did not date other agents, especially junior agents. He wasn’t about to take advantage of someone younger or more vulnerable. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I thought we were working this case?”
She chewed her lip, which didn’t help his resolve to keep things strictly professional.
“How can we if we don’t have access to the case files?” she asked.
The doorbell rang again.
“We have something else. Something better.”
“More beef stew?” she asked dryly, trailing behind him to the front door.
He turned so abruptly she bumped into him. Electricity shot through him. It had nothing to do with the pain from his injuries.
He steadied her with his good hand. “There’s no line up of ex-lovers. I don’t usually get involved with women who don’t realize upfront what I’m interested in, and I’m only ever interested in short-term.”
Dangerous To Love Page 12
