Sinister Secrets

by Amanda McKinney

  “Are you sure?”

  “Harley, Scar and I just verified.”

  Dixie frowned. “Is that why you’re dressed up in Scream costumes?”

  “They’re raincoats. Right off the runway.” Roxy said, clearly annoyed.

  “Wait. How did you find her?” Fiona asked, returning to the subject.

  Roxy turned to Ace.

  He sipped, set down his beer. “Thermal imaging.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit. Used my boy, Danno. I’ve been surveilling the area for the last few days.”

  “Danno?”

  “My drone, Danno.” He looked confused as if everyone should name their spy gear.

  “Okay, how did you and Danno know where to look?”

  “Basic investigation. Started with her last known location—the clearing—then slowly moved outward.”

  “Wait. There’s hundreds of large animals living out there. How did you—

  “Animals move. People in hiding don’t. I made markers of each mass large enough to be human and monitored it. I’ve been watching three spots since yesterday, two masses moved location, except for one. So, early this morning before the sun came up, I sent Danno down and discovered what I think is an old hunting cabin nestled in a dip beneath a canopy of trees. Made of stone, mostly. Creepy-ass shit… Didn’t figure Krestel was one for clichés.”

  “She’s desperate.” Scar leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “The cops have been looking for her for weeks now.”

  Fiona glanced at the designer raincoats. “So did you guys actually go to the cabin?”

  “No.” Roxy shook her head. “Just looked for the best route to get there.”

  Busy wiping her arms with a towel, Harley said, “Treacherous terrain. We’ll have to go on foot.”

  “How far can we drive?”

  “About six miles from the clearing. We’ll park there and hike to the clearing, and lure her out.”

  “With the spell.”

  “Right.”

  Fiona glanced around the room. Each face determined, fierce. Not a single suggestion of fear. She glanced out the window. “How long until the next full moon?”

  “Three days now,” Ace said.

  “Three days.”

  Just then, Roxy’s phone rang, followed by Raven’s. Work didn’t sleep. Before answering, Roxy looked around the room, “Until then, business as usual, guys. Let’s get some work done.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Fiona pushed through her front door, dropped her files and purse on the floor and glanced at the clock hanging above the fireplace—5:14 p.m.

  Shit.

  She had exactly forty-six minutes to pull herself together for the event at Senator Norris’s house. If she knew anything about Noah, he was the type to show up for an appointment at least ten minutes early, so technically, that left her with thirty-six minutes.

  She’d spent the afternoon working on her other pressing cases, although found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as the hours ticked by. Thoughts of Krestel, Joel, and Noah jumbled in her head as she pressed through the afternoon, only to get pulled out at the last minute to conduct surveillance for Mrs. Bledsoe, a client who believed someone was poisoning her cats. At least that case wasn’t about a dead body.

  Fiona hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast, which did nothing to help the jitteriness she felt inside.

  Ignoring her growling stomach, she left a trail of clothes along the hardwood floors as she stripped naked and took a quick, steaming-hot shower. After grabbing the only thing hanging in her bathroom, a long Kaftan house dress, she made her way to the kitchen to feed the monster in her stomach. She’d change into her cocktail dress after she ate.

  She yanked open the fridge and wrinkled her nose at the selection. The barren fridge told her what she already knew—she spent way too much time working, and not enough time doing things that she enjoys, like cooking. Cooking soothed her and calmed her nerves, and that was definitely something she could use at the moment.

  She grabbed peppers, zucchini, squash, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and the latest batch of sausage her grandmother had sent her from Italy. She dumped it all on the counter and glanced at the clock.

  Crap.

  She quickly chopped, heated olive oil, and just as she dumped everything in the pan, the doorbell rang.

  She wiped her hands and jogged down the hall. Flustered, she opened the door and her heart skipped a beat. Wearing a sleek dark suit, Noah looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ magazine. His hair was perfectly combed back, highlighting his chiseled face... and the unmistakable twinkle in his dark eyes.

  ***

  As the front door opened, Noah’s eyes widened as he slid his phone into his pocket, not sure if he actually hung up. A knot grabbed his throat. Obviously straight from the shower, Fiona stood in front of him, in some super-thin hippie-looking dress that ran like water over her breasts, which were obviously bare. No bra.

  Holy. Shit.

  “Hey.” She smiled.

  He blinked, momentarily hypnotized by the thought that she might be bare below, too. Dammit, Noah. Get it together.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m running a bit late. Had a busy afternoon at the office. Come in.”

  “Thanks.” The single word was all he could muster up.

  He stepped inside as she closed the door behind him. She smelled like fresh flowers. A light, fresh scent. Not too overpowering like most of the women he’d imagined naked. No, Fiona’s scent was sweet and understated.

  Sexy.

  He inhaled, and another scent caught his nose. Dinner.

  “Something smells good.”

  “Oh, shoot.” She took off down the hall, her dress flowing behind her. “I haven’t eaten all day. It’s almost ready.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, where she was stirring a saucepan on the stove.

  “Want some?” She asked.

  Yes, I definitely want some. And dinner sounds good, too.

  He walked up behind her. “Looks good. Sure.”

  “Drink?”

  “Whatcha got?”

  “Water, beer, wine…” She nodded toward the liquor cabinet. “And whatever’s in there.”

  Without hesitating, he hit the liquor.

  “Puni Vina?”

  “Italian whiskey. Damn good.”

  “Italian whiskey, huh?” He frowned and turned the fancy bottle over in his hands.

  “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

  Nothing beat Texas whiskey in his opinion, but he was willing to drink tar if it would calm his racy thoughts. “Alright, then. Puni Vina it is.”

  She pulled down two glasses from the cabinet. “Grab some ice from the freezer.”

  He poured two small glasses, over ice. “You were born in Italy, right?”

  “Yes. My mom and dad divorced when I was a kid and we were on the next flight here. Mom had friends here, I guess.”

  “You ever go back?”

  “No.” Sadness crossed her face. “I’d like to. Just get so busy, ya know?”

  Yeah, he knew.

  “Where’s your mom now?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer, thanks to his deep dive into Fiona Monreau prior to his visit.

  “Back in Maryland. Couldn’t convince her to move to ol’ Devil’s Den.” She grabbed two plates and scooped a hefty amount on both. A nice, man-sized plate, not the half-inch portions most women ate these days.

  “Grab the parm, will you?”

  He opened the fridge and searched around.

  “It’s the block.”

  The block. He grabbed the wrapped block of cheese. “What’s wrong with the kind in the can?”

  She stopped mid-kitchen, holding two steaming plates of food and gaped at him. “Don’t speak like that in my house.”

  He laughed. “Italians take their parm seriously. Okay, note to self.”

  She set the plates on the table, and he gra
bbed the drinks. As she grated fresh parmesan onto his plate, he caught a glimpse of her cleavage, which was indeed, bare. Dear God, perfectly round, plump, bare breasts.

  She cleared her throat. “By the way, this isn’t what I’m planning to wear tonight.”

  He tore his eyes away with a twinge of embarrassment. She’d caught him.

  “I think you look beautiful.” The words came out before he could catch himself.

  She smiled, and glanced away. “Sit.” She demanded, and he liked that. “Eat.”

  He settled in across from her and took a sip of whiskey, and much to his surprise, it was damn good.

  “Eh?” She grinned.

  “Not bad.” He nodded. “Not bad at all.”

  She smiled widely, pleased, and it was then that he realized she enjoyed cooking. Serving. His mother had been like that. ‘Best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’, she always said. Fiona was the type of woman who liked to make people happy through food. God help him. This woman was full of surprises, and he wanted to know more.

  “So, you moved here when you were little and went straight to DC?”

  She nodded, took a mouthful of food. The woman liked to serve and didn’t mind eating in front of a man. Be still his heart.

  “Why DC?” He asked before taking a bite.

  Humor flashed in her eyes. “To fulfill my dream of working for the FBI.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “I remember watching these American spy films when I was little, and I became obsessed. I wanted to be in the FBI, no way around it. According to my mom, it’s all I talked about, especially when she told me we were going to move to the States. But it worked out well, mom’s friends lived a few hours out of DC, so it was a win-win.”

  He glanced around her house that he knew she purchased—in full—by herself. “I’d say it worked out very well. This is delicious, by the way.”

  She smiled ear-to-ear. “Good. Tell me more about you. Why did you join the FBI?”

  He shifted in his seat. He wanted to talk about her—not him. “Same as you, I guess. Couldn’t escape the lure of being the next James Bond.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious.”

  He took a deep sip of whiskey. “I… had a bit of a rebellious streak growing up.”

  “Elaborate.”

  “Just normal teenage stuff.”

  “Elaborate.” She said again.

  Dammit. “Fighting.”

  “So, you got into some fights growing up?”

  He laughed a humorless laugh and shook his head. He was losing his appetite. “You could say that. Got thrown of out of high school, college.” He looked down remembering the embarrassment his folks must’ve gone through.

  “Thrown out of college?”

  He nodded.

  She paused. “Why? Just for fighting?”

  He took another sip, his stomach uneasy now. “Remember that movie Fight Club?”

  She nodded.

  “I started one of my own. Underground gambling ring. Made a hell of a lot of money. I couldn’t control my temper. Every conflict, big or small, was resolved with my fist.” He paused and could tell she was hanging on his every word. “I was busted, of course, spent a few nights in the county jail. My folks took me to multiple counselors, even put me on medication for a bit.” He took a deep breath. “One day, I walked downstairs and saw my mom sobbing at the kitchen table, my dad consoling her. It was that day I decided to turn my life around. Went back to college. Majored in criminal justice. Fitting, I assumed. I applied to the FBI after I finally got that piece of paper. Got a shit-job behind a desk, but I didn’t care. Working for the Bureau was a dream come true.”

  “And you worked your way up to becoming an agent.”

  He nodded and surprisingly felt an ounce of weight come off his shoulders. He took a bite.

  “You turned that nasty rage of yours into training others how to fight. I’d say you turned your life around, Agent Noah Fox.”

  He looked at her, loving the way his name rolled off her tongue.

  “What about your marriage?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Typical story—I worked too much, wasn’t home enough. She left me for another agent, and that’s that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, and he realized that was the first time he’d addressed his failed marriage without his stomach hitting the ground. He took another sip, then changed the subject. “So, you have a dream as a little girl to be in the FBI, then get in, go through training, only to accept a job with Black Rose Investigations immediately after graduation.”

  “That’s right.” The confident tone in her voice told him she didn’t regret her decision one bit. “Roxy and Scar were literally at Quantico the day I graduated. They recruited me in the gym.” She locked eyes with him, a small smirk on her face. “I was practicing my Roundhouses on The Reap.”

  The corner of his lip curled up. “God knows you needed more practice.”

  She smiled and looked away, and he swore her cheeks flushed.

  He set down his fork and stared at her for a minute. “I didn’t know, you know.”

  “Didn’t know what?” Her eyes wide, her voice soft.

  “That you didn’t know I was separated.” He shook his head. “I thought everyone knew. My wife leaving me for a guy I worked with was all the gossip. I assumed you knew.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t have… I would’ve never…”

  Skepticism crossed her beautiful brown eyes.

  He pushed out of his chair and walked around the table. Slowly, he lifted her chin.

  “Actually, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have. From the moment I saw you… The moment you walked into my class, I couldn’t get you off my mind.” Holding her gaze, he kneeled, inches from her face. “That kiss, Fiona, stayed with me. All these years later, it’s like you burned yourself into my brain, and goddammit if I don’t want to feel that fire again.”

  He wrapped his fingers around her chin and kissed her.

  ***

  The moment his lips touched hers, butterflies exploded in her stomach. It was the same kiss. The same kiss from ten years earlier, the same feeling, the same butterflies, except this time, there was intent behind it. A fire as hot as coals radiating from him.

  She tipped her head back allowing him to devour her, feeling like her body was melting into the chair.

  The guy could kiss.

  It was as if all the emotions he kept locked deep inside himself finally came out, bursting out, and she was on the receiving end of it. Her hands drifted to his suit and slid under his jacket.

  He pulled away with a look in his eyes that had her heart skipping a beat, his chest rising and falling heavily. He stood, passion like flames in his eyes.

  She gripped his rough, strong hand, stood, and was swept off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he spun her around and slid her onto the counter.

  Kissing, kissing, kissing, her dress was pulled from her body, the fabric tickling across her bare skin. Her nipples perched from the sweeping touch, her heart thudded in her ears. Lips on hers, he peeled off his coat, then his shirt. She ran her fingers over his muscular back as he kissed his way down to her breasts, as if every second was their last. He licked her nipple, then nipped, sending a shockwave of goosebumps over her skin. She ran her fingers through his soft, shaggy hair as he took a breast in one hand, the other trailing down her stomach. He shifted her to the very edge of the counter, edged her legs farther apart, and slid his fingers over her. Her legs squeezed around his waist as he slipped into her. She leaned back, her head against the cupboard, and closed her eyes. His fingers slid in and out of her wetness, sliding over her throbbing clit with each stroke. Breathless now, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her, watching her as the pleasure gripped her. He crushed his lips against hers.

  “I have to have you, Fi.” He whispered between kisses. “Now.”


  He lifted her off the counter, his tongue dancing in her mouth as he carried her through the kitchen. She felt like she was floating, her heart speeding with anticipation. She wanted him just as badly—if not more—as he wanted her. Like an addict craving their next hit, she had to have him.

  Completely naked, she fell to the bed, the coolness of the comforter against her hot skin. Impatient, she ran her hands over her skin as she watched him kick off his shoes and slide out of his pants. She was already tingling, wet, ready, as he crawled on top of her, pinning her with those dark eyes, daring her to move. The light from the kitchen spilled through the doorway, outlining his chiseled body in a dim glow.

  Her heart skipped wildly as he hovered over her, locked onto her gaze.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for ten years,” he whispered, his voice low and gravely.

  “What are you waiting for, then?” She whispered back.

  With that, he thrust into her, staring into her soul. A soft groan escaped her lips as she stared back, into him.

  It was the most intense, soul-shaking moment of her life.

  He watched her, searching the lines of her face as he slid out, and pushed back in.

  “Oh, God, Noah.” She squeezed around him. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  He devoured her as he pumped into her with the same voracity. Demanding, strong, intense, she was pinned underneath him, submissive as if that was the only way he’d have her. It made her crazy. Deeper and deeper, the friction building and building between her legs. His breath became heavy, and hers did too, as she began to slip away, her body overcome with sensation.

  He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing, as they moved rhythmically together. She could feel his heart beating through his skin.

  His eyes met hers—

  “Noah.”

  The orgasm ripped through her, her body bucking with each wave.

  He watched, his eyes rounded. “God, Fi…” There was a desperation, a plea in his voice the second before she felt his warmth fill her up inside.

  Her body tingled, her head spun as everything stopped. Chests heaving, he rested his forehead against hers, gasping for breath. He kissed her, softly, then collapsed next to her.