by Cynthia Eden
She spun around. Her gaze jerked toward him. There was something in his eyes . . .
Cash exhaled on a long breath. “As I told your boss, the FBI is willing to offer certain incentives for your cooperation on this case.”
“What kind of incentives?”
Gabe gave a low laugh. “The ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours’ variety.”
“The FBI is promising help on future LOST cases,” Cash elaborated. “The FBI and LOST have crossed paths plenty of times, and sometimes that intersection has proven . . . painful.”
That’s an understatement.
“We’re offering support to LOST, we’re offering whatever damn deal it takes,” Cash added grimly. “We just need you on board in the hunt for Bernie.”
“The FBI certainly seems desperate,” Gabe said.
Yes, Ana had just been thinking the same thing.
“Don’t have much faith in your ability to bring the guy in, huh?” Gabe asked as he cocked his head to study Cash.
Anger flashed in Cash’s eyes. “Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?”
Let’s do that. She’d never had a lot of patience for bullshit.
Cash pointed at Ana. “She’s the best tracker there is. I still don’t know how the hell she found him before, but time is of the essence. Bernie Tate is missing, and the FBI wants him brought back in. If Ana does the job, the FBI will owe LOST.”
Definitely the “I’ll scratch yours” variety of favor.
“What do you think, Ana?” Gabe asked, drawing her gaze once more. “You joined LOST to find the victims, not to clean up messes left by the FBI. So if you don’t want to take the case, you don’t have to do it.”
Cash growled.
Goose bumps rose on her arms.
Gabe rose to his feet. “Ana’s choice,” he said simply. “I told you I’d give you the chance to lay out the case for her, and I have. What happens next is completely up to Ana.”
Her heartbeat drummed steadily in her chest. She thought of the files on her desk. The victims that needed her help.
And she thought of the women who could die if Bernie Tate was left to run free.
“May I talk to Ana alone?” Cash asked, his voice still rough.
Surprise flashed on Gabe’s face. “Don’t really know why you’d need to do that. Whatever you have to say to Ana can certainly be said to me, too.” Now he slid from around his desk and walked to Ana’s side. His arm brushed her shoulder. “I’ve known Ana for a very long time, and like I told you before, she has my utmost respect. That’s why the choice is hers. If she wants this case, LOST will fully support her, if not . . .”
Cash’s gaze slid between her and Gabe. His green stare hardened. He opened his mouth to speak—
“I’d like a moment with him,” Ana said quickly. Because I’m not sure what Cash may say next.
Gabe’s eyes slowly slid over her face. Whatever he saw there . . . well, it had him nodding. “Getting kicked out of my own office, huh?” A rueful smile curved his lips. “That’s a new one.”
She was so not winning points with him today. “Gabe . . .”
His hand brushed over her shoulder. “I’ll be outside. I need to talk with my assistant, anyway. And . . . Ana . . .”
“Yes?”
“You make the choice.”
He nodded toward Cash and slowly exited the room. Ana didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath, not until the door closed behind him.
Then . . .
She became aware of just how thick and heavy the silence was in that office. She could also feel the weight of Cash’s stare. She made herself look back at him.
“You seem . . . close to your boss.”
Her eyes narrowed. You’d better watch your step, Special Agent. “Gabe is a good man. He wants to help the victims out there.”
Cash swore. “And Bernie Tate isn’t a victim.”
“No, he isn’t.” Her hands twisted together. “But if Bernie isn’t brought back into custody, there will be more dead women left in his wake. We both know that’s true.”
He stepped toward her. “Then you’re going to help me? You could have just said so—”
“There are conditions.” And she hadn’t wanted to discuss these conditions in front of Gabe.
“Name them.”
“One . . . I want honesty from you.”
His eyelids flickered. “Are you saying I’ve lied to you before?”
“I’m saying that the FBI doesn’t always play by the rules. If I’m working with you, if you’re my partner on this, then I need to know I can trust you. I need to know that you’ll have my back.”
“I will.” He sounded so sincere.
She wanted to believe him. “I’ll need access to every bit of intel you have on Bernie, even the confidential material, so don’t think of holding back.”
He nodded. “Done.”
Okay, so far, so good. Time for the last condition. “You don’t mention our past.”
A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Want to run that by me again?”
“I don’t think I need to do that.” She lifted a brow. “I’m absolutely certain you know what I’m talking about. There will not be a repeat performance. If we’re hunting Bernie, that’s all we’re doing. We’ll stay professional, and the past will stay exactly where it belongs . . . dead and buried.”
His gaze slid toward the closed office door. “You don’t want the boss knowing about us.”
“I don’t want anyone knowing my personal business. If you have a problem with that—”
“Easy, Ana,” he said, his voice going a bit soft when he said her name. Soft . . . raspy . . . the way he’d said it that long-ago night. “Despite what you think, I’ve never been the type to kiss and tell. Our past is our business, no one else’s.”
“Good.” She gave a brisk nod. “Then it should stay that way.” Ana offered her hand to him. “I think we have a deal.”
Once more, his hand closed around hers.
And, dammit, his touch did make her skin tingle. She’d offered her hand to him again just so she could see and unfortunately . . .
The attraction is still there. I touch him and my body reacts. I look at him and I need.
But sometimes, Ana’s needs could become very, very dark.
Cash doesn’t know about that part of me. He won’t ever know. Because this case was strictly business. And now they had a deal.
Time to hunt a killer . . . before he took another life.
Bernie Tate groaned as his eyes opened. He expected to see the old, sagging cot above him, his cellmate’s ass would be dragging low over him but . . .
No, I’m not in that hellhole. Not anymore.
His memory came rushing back to him. He’d been on that transport bus, the only prisoner. The guard had cuffed his hands but left his feet loose. Stupid mistake.
Bernie had waited for the perfect opportunity. Waited for his chance at freedom . . .
He smiled. That chance had come.
There was no sagging cot above him. There was just the rough wood of a cabin. He could smell the scent of a fire burning somewhere close by, probably in the other room. His partner had sure done one real fine job of getting his ass to freedom.
Bernie sat up and swung his legs off the narrow bed. He shot to his feet, his stomach growling to remind him that he hadn’t eaten since before he’d boarded that transport bus. Maybe his partner had a meal waiting in the cabin for him. Bernie smiled as he took a few fast steps toward the door.
Then Bernie tripped and he slammed, face-first, into the wooden floor.
“What the hell?” Bernie snarled as he shoved himself up. He was in good shape—he’d made a damn point of staying in shape. Trapped in that prison, all he’d been able to do was work out. Exercise had kept him sane. Exercise . . . and his plans.
He had so many fine plans.
Goal one . . . find the bitch who got me locked up. Make her pay. Make her bleed. Make her scream.
But . . .
Bernie grabbed for his ankle. There was some kind of shackle on him. A cuff that locked around his left ankle and trailed back to the narrow bed. He grabbed the chain and yanked it and the whole bed jerked toward him because the other side of that chain was locked around the foot of the bed.
The door squeaked behind him. His head jerked and his body twisted as he glared at the asshole in the doorway. “Is this some kind of joke?” Bernie shouted. “Get this thing off me!”
Then . . . then Bernie saw the knife. Glinting.
“No joke, Bernie.” His partner stepped closer. The knife lifted. “It’s time for you to pay.”
What? No, no, this wasn’t happening. He was free! He’d gotten away from that rat-hole prison. Away from the guards. He was free—
The knife sliced down toward him. Bernie lifted his hands, trying to shield his face.
The blade drove straight through his left hand and Bernie screamed.
“See?” his partner whispered. “Payback.”
Chapter Two
“Your boss gave you the company jet,” Cash murmured as he sat across from Ana—in one very plush company jet. “You must have a lot of pull with him.” And, yeah, that was jealousy twisting his guts up but he couldn’t help it.
When it came to Ana Young—Ana Break-My-Heart Young—his emotions were always raw.
At his words, Ana stopped looking at the clouds outside of her window and her head turned toward him. When she locked her dark gaze on him, Cash felt that stare like a punch straight to his gut. Ana wasn’t the kind of woman that a guy forgot, though Cash had sure as hell tried to put their night behind him.
Ana was different.
She was the kind of woman who could wreck a man.
“If you have a question about my relationship with Gabe,” Ana said, her voice clear and easy, “then ask. But don’t make snide-ass comments that are only going to piss me off, okay?”
That was Ana. Straight to the point. A woman who didn’t play games. He could sure respect that. “Are you involved with him?”
“Am I sleeping with my boss? No. He’s married, actually. Quite happily.” Her lips kicked up into a quick smile. “To a former client.”
His gaze darted to her lips. Her lips were truly incredible—red and full. And her scar shouldn’t have been sexy. Cash hated that Ana had been hurt. Hated that she was scarred in any way. If he’d had his way, she would have never known a moment of pain or fear.
Ana had a habit of lightly licking the faint line of her scar when she was in deep thought. A quick swipe of her pink tongue across her top lip.
Drives me insane.
Not that she knew it. Not that he’d tell her. It had been two years, for fuck’s sake. He’d moved the hell on. And even if Ana wasn’t sleeping with her boss, a woman like her would sure be sleeping with someone.
Whoever the guy was . . . he was one lucky bastard.
“What about you, Agent Knox?”
His brows rose. Since when was he Agent Knox?
“You involved with someone?” Her gaze dipped to his left hand. “I don’t see a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. You certainly strike me as the marrying kind.”
He flexed his fingers. “Not involved. Definitely not married.” But her words were nagging. “What do you mean about me being the marrying kind?”
She waved her hand toward him. “Oh, you know.”
He had no clue.
“You’re the true-blue type. The white knight. So I just figured you’d have a white picket fence and an adoring family waiting for you by now.” Sadness flickered in her eyes, just for a moment. “I rather wanted that for you.”
Wait, what? “Ana Young,” he said, rasping out her name. “You confuse the hell out of me.”
Her long lashes fell, casting shadows against her cheeks.
“So . . . are we going to talk about it at all?” Cash drawled, aware that his Texas accent had just slipped out. Ana had grown up in Texas, too, though she’d certainly never talked to him about her life. Not that they’d done a whole lot of talking when they’d known each other before.
They’d met. Ignited. Burned up the sheets.
Then she’d vanished.
Her lashes slowly lifted. Her gaze swept over his face. “You look the same.” Her head tilted a bit as she studied him. “Though the stubble is new. Kind of gives you a rough edge.” She paused. “I like it.”
Ana.
“As far as talking about ‘it’ . . . I’m assuming you mean the case? Because we really don’t have anything else to talk about.”
That was cold and clear. And Cash found himself smiling. “You seem the same, too.” Direct. Sexy as all hell. But . . . “Prettier, though. How is that possible? How do you get better with time?”
She stared back at him. Her eyes were so dark, but he could see the gold hidden in their depths. That gold had ignited when he’d been inside of her and she’d been coming for him.
Focus on the case, man!
Because he wasn’t there for a walk down memory lane. He was with Ana because she truly was the best.
And . . .
So maybe I lied to Ana a bit. He lied to people all the time, and they had no clue. Ana had just said he was the white knight type.
That was hilarious. He was as far from a white knight as it was possible to be. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Ana didn’t understand exactly what was happening with this case, but he did.
After all, he’d been the one there when Bernie Tate was sentenced to life in prison. He’d heard the convicted man’s screams. His demands to “See the bitch who did this to me! Bring her to me! I’ll make her sorry!” Ana hadn’t been around then. She’d moved on, another case, another killer. So she hadn’t realized just how much hate was focused on her.
Perhaps time should have made that hatred dim. It hadn’t. As soon as Cash had learned of Bernie’s disappearance, Cash had gone to Wingate Penitentiary. He’d seen Bernie’s cell, talked to the guy’s cellmate, and heard all about how Bernie still blamed the “beautiful lying bitch” who’d tossed him in jail.
Bernie hadn’t forgiven and he hadn’t forgotten. Now that he was free, Cash was betting the guy would be hell-bent on his vengeance. And that vengeance? It would be focused on the gorgeous, ex–bounty hunter who was currently seated across from Cash.
Bernie wanted to make Ana pay.
Not happening.
So, yeah, Cash had flown straight to Ana. He did want her to help him track Bernie. He hadn’t been lying when he said the woman had skills. But Cash also wanted to keep Ana close because . . .
The escaped killer wanted her. If Ana and Cash didn’t find Bernie soon, then Cash had no doubt that Bernie would be finding them. Or rather . . . Ana.
And when the killer came calling, Cash would make damn sure he was ready. Bernie wouldn’t be cutting into Ana’s soft skin with one of his knives. Bernie the Butcher would never claim her as a victim.
Hell, no.
“Okay, you’ve been glaring at me for a few minutes,” Ana murmured. “Something you want to share?”
Cash cleared his throat. “Just thinking what I said was true. You are even more beautiful now.” That part wasn’t a lie. The woman was absolutely gorgeous. Heart-shaped face. That dark, thick tumble of hair that skimmed over her shoulders. Her dark and deep eyes . . .
Men looked at Ana. Then they looked again—and couldn’t look away.
He knew she’d used her looks to her advantage a time or twenty during her bounty hunting days. Hell, if a woman like her came after you . . . what man ran?
“And I see you can be as charming as you were before.” Her smile flashed, then vanished. “Though you really don’t need to waste your charm on me. This is business. Just a case, and then we walk away.”
Cash nodded. “I’m clear on the plan. Don’t worry.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll be landing soon.” And their first stop would be the prison. Ana wanted to talk to Berni
e’s cellmate. Cash had told her that he’d already interviewed the guy, but she still wanted her turn at him. And Cash had to admit to being curious because he’d love to see Ana in action. The woman truly was the stuff of legend.
He’d been in a Virginia field office two years ago when she’d come strolling in, as pretty as you please, with a man in front of her. She’d stood in the waiting area, then delicately cleared her throat and said that she was there to collect the reward.
Every jaw in the building had dropped when the agents got a look at Bernie. Bernie “the Butcher” Tate.
One of the FBI’s ten most wanted . . . taken down by a woman who seemed to barely skim past five feet in height. Power did come in small packages.
“I’ll want to talk to the guy who was driving the transport, too,” Ana said.
“He doesn’t remember anything. Said the engine stopped, he got out of the bus to check under the hood, then he got hit from behind.”
“And when he woke up, the prisoner was gone.” Ana shook her head. “That’s a convenient story. Have you checked to make sure that an extra ten or twenty grand wasn’t conveniently dropped into his bank account, too?”
He had. “So far, the guy is clear.”
“On the surface, anyone can look good. You have to dig deep to see the dark spots.” Her hands tightened on the hand rests on either side of her body. “Bernie obviously has a friend nearby, someone who helped him vanish.”
Yeah, Cash knew a partner had to be involved.
“Bernie has been away from his prey for too long,” Ana said, worry edging into her voice. “He’ll hunt at the first opportunity.”
“How did you find Bernie before?” It was the question that had plagued him too many times. “Everyone else was looking for him, no one found him but you. How did you do it?”
Her smile flashed again. “I did it the same way I’ll do it this time.”
“How?”
She gave a light laugh, husky, oddly sweet. “If I tell you my trade secret, what good will I be to you then?”
