by J. M. Madden
He was hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
As if it were moments ago he could remember the feel of her pressed against him, the tickle of her hair drifting out against him in the breeze.
Slamming the door on the mental seduction, he turned for the front of the building and headed out.
He stood on the front steps, debating what to do. If he walked back toward the center of town, he could slide by the North Street shelter and catch up with a few people. If he headed back to his bolthole he could avoid everyone.
His gut told him to hide, though his mind told him to search out threats and immobilize them. The air was surprisingly calm right now though. There was no niggling sense of anything about to happen, so he turned left and started moving down the street.
Angela knew she had mere seconds before the man would disappear. Hurrying to the front door she threw on a pair of tennis shoes, then raced back into her bedroom for her badge and weapon. Her conscience twinged as hard as her injured arm and shoulder, but she continued to position both onto her belt. Swinging through the kitchen she dumped an extra scoop of dry cat food in Chester’s dish. Then, she slung on her cross-body bag and headed out the door, locking it behind her.
Jogging down the steps, she wondered what the guy had been doing, hanging around her building. It had just been chance that had put her into a position to see him. She wasn’t much of a nurturer, and the plants in her sunny windowsill were always either too moist or too dry. The yellow leaves made her think she’d been watering them too much, but she just couldn’t tell.
Anyway, she’d looked up just in time to see him go down the steps from her building. His hands had been shoved into the pockets of his jeans and he’d looked up the street one way, toward downtown, then in the other direction. A stained black sweatshirt hung from him, the hood up to obscure his face, but she knew it was the guy from the alley.
He’d begun to walk in the second direction. Away from her apartment building.
She wondered what the options had been in his mind.
As she jogged down the sidewalk in pursuit, she wondered how she’d fallen so completely off her rocker. Normally, she was damned level headed. It usually only took her a few seconds to suss out the motivations and drives of people, but this guy was an enigma. He was raggedly dressed, but when they’d been close he hadn’t smelled like a homeless man. He’d smelled clean, been clean. It seemed as if he were deliberately dressing this way, but she had no earthly idea why he would do that. And twice now he’d walked away from her, totally disappeared without a trace. Why was he hanging around now? Was he leading her somewhere?
Angela reached the end of the block and peered around a copse of pine trees. He was heading north now, head down. She watched him approach people and became very conscious of the way he moved. He wasn’t drunk or inhibited in any way, and though his boots looked ragged, the man stepped very deliberately around obstacles. As she watched him move, Angela thought about the men she’d seen working at the Lost and Found agency. Some of them moved the same way, like they were tiptoeing across crushed glass. Her veterinarian’s husband, Flynn, moved the same way. Was this guy former military? Thinking about the narrow-eyed look Duncan had given her earlier, and the way the man moved, she decided he had to be. Especially if he really was Aiden Willingham.
After a few blocks the trees and landscaping began to be more frequent, making it easier for her to follow him. They were heading toward a strip mall. It wasn’t very big but big enough that it was fairly busy. There was a nail salon next to a hair salon, and a Mexican grocery next to a dollar store. People were moving in and out of their cars and the stores and for a moment she lost him. Then, because he was on the taller side, she spotted his head as he slipped around a corner.
Angela frowned as she looked around, debating what to do. She didn’t know why he would go back behind the strip mall, unless he slept back there or something. Was he looking for food?
Curiosity prodding her on, she jogged through the parking lot and around the same corner he had just moments ago. Two Hispanic men gave her a suspicious look, until she flicked her jacket back, exposing her gold badge and with a wave of their hands they returned to their conversation.
Angela paused at the back corner of the building, listening. The street noises overwhelmed everything so she peered around. The man’s back was just disappearing down a back alley, and his head was down.
Cursing, she jogged around the dumpsters and cars, heading for the opening he’d used. Once again, she paused before she followed blindly, and she was glad she did because he’d stopped less than a hundred feet away, looking down at something in his hands.
Angela eased back behind cover, shaking her head at herself. This was so ridiculous. Why was she chasing this man around the city?
She peered back around the corner and could have screamed in frustration. He was gone.
She lurched from her hiding spot and jogged down the alley, looking for his distinctive form. If she hadn’t been looking specifically for something hidden, she never would have seen it. Along one side of the alley way there was a tightly overgrown hedge, well over six feet tall. When she got closer she could see that it had overtaken a chain link fence and there, behind a thicker trunk, was an opening in the fence.
Hunkering down she eased through the branches of the protective brush. Something caught at her hair and she gasped in pain, even as she continued to pull. “Ouch, damn it,” she hissed.
When she looked back at the branch that had caught her, distinctive reddish hairs glinting in the afternoon light. She reached out and pulled at them, letting them drift away on the air, then turned back to her target. He’d disappeared again, and she wondered if he wasn’t leading her into a trap. Maybe he’d been watching her the entire time, and just giving her enough of a glimpse to lead her on.
Mentally shrugging, she decided she didn’t care. She needed to know what was going on with this guy.
When she pushed from the fence line, she realized she was behind a long, low warehouse, three stories tall. The windows were grimy and it looked like it hadn’t done business in a very long time. Grass grew up through the concrete and it looked derelict. To the right were the chain link gates to get into the place and they were chained and locked together, looking rusted shut.
Otherwise it seemed like a great place to hide out…
Angela had no idea where he’d gone but she could kind of guess. There was only one door on this lower corner of the building. She left the concealment of the fence line very carefully and jogged across the deserted lot. When she tried the handle it was unlocked, so she pulled the door open.
It was pitch black inside but she didn’t dare get her cell phone out. It would be too much light. Even just the door opening had probably illuminated the interior too much. If the man was looking for followers, there was a very good chance he’d seen the flash.
Creeping forward, she held her hands out at waist level. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was light here, diffusing in from the windows, it just wasn’t strong.
Angela stood in an expansive room. She could feel the size of it around her. There were large pieces of equipment draped in thick clear plastic, but she had no idea what they were. Inching forward, she peered around, trying to decide where the man had gone. Way off to the right was an interior office bank, it looked like, built up as tall as the exterior. And there was a glow coming from one of the windows.
Excitement surged through her and she moved forward. Her foot caught on something and there was a click. Instinctively she stilled, her heart racing in panic. She’d heard that sound before. Right before people had been blown up beside her.
“Stop right there,” a voice said from the darkness. “Don’t move a muscle.”
The man she’d been following stepped from the shadows, arms crossed over his chest. The hood was up, shrouding his face. He stopped several yards away from her, legs braced shoulder width apart.
Ange
la panted, her heart racing. That click had sounded like she’d set off an IED, but nothing had happened yet.
“If you don’t move, you’ll be okay. Now, why are you following me?”
She blinked, a little stunned that he wasn’t going to help her out of the predicament she was in. But then, why did he have to? She was the one in the wrong.
“I, I wanted to ask you more questions. And th-thank you.”
He flicked the hood back from his face and she could have gasped. The lean angles of his face cast dark shadows, but his dark eyes glinted with something … some emotion.
The man scowled at her. “You’ve heard the saying that curiosity killed the cat, right?”
“Yes,” she admitted, teeth gritted.
“And why are you thanking me? For helping you out with the drug dealers? I didn’t do that for you.”
Angela frowned, looking at him in confusion. “Why did you do it then?”
The man shrugged. “It was dirt that needed cleaned up from the streets. Didn’t have anything to do with you.”
She frowned again, trying to understand his reasoning. It didn’t work. “So, if I hadn’t been there, would you still have interfered?”
The man barked out a laugh. “Yeah, definitely not. But things played out the way they needed to. It was fortuitous.”
“Can you help me out of this?” she demanded, motioning toward her right foot.
“I could,” he agreed, “but you still haven’t told me why you’re following me. Are you ready for another kiss?”
He straightened from his stance and took a slight step forward, and suddenly Angela couldn’t remember anything about the situation. A wild thrill raced through her at his words. Beneath the shadows and cageyness she could see he was a decent looking guy. And there was a dark knowledge in his eyes that seriously made her worry about her sanity. She wanted to know what he was thinking about.
Get your fucking act together, Holloway. You’ve fucked this situation up enough.
“Can you help me out of this or not?” she snapped.
“I can,” he said softly, “but you still haven’t explained to me why you’re creeping around and following me.”
Angela fumed, the anger overwhelming her fear. “Because I don’t like questions and you are one big walking, talking question mark to me.”
The man snorted and moved off to the right, behind a large piece of equipment. Tension eased on the fishing line and he returned. Only then did Angela dare to move. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. The man only grinned, though, which made her all the madder. “Why are you laughing at me?”
He shook his head and crossed his arms again. “No reason, Detective. Now, what can I help you with?”
Angela sputtered to a stop, taken aback. She thought of all the questions in her mind, but one took precedence over all others. “Are you Aiden Willingham?”
Chapter Five
Internally, Aiden winced. Of course she knew it was him, but did he dare confirm it?
“Officially? Or unofficially?”
She blinked, her big eyes confused for a moment. “Why does it matter?”
He sighed and looked out over the warehouse, giving himself a minute to think. The pressures of the past several months beat at him and he wondered what it would be like to have someone help to carry the load he was carrying. It had been so long since he’d relied on anyone for anything.
His gut, which had saved his life too many times to count, was telling him that she could be trusted. It had never served him wrong.
“Because if you report that I am Willingham it will get back to people that I don’t want it to get back to. Dangerous people that would be willing to kill everyone around me.”
Her brows lifted skeptically, as if she were wondering if he needed to be placed under a seventy-two hour mental hold. She blinked. “All right then, unofficially. Are you Aiden Willingham?”
Beneath the beard his mouth quirked. “Yes, Detective Holloway, I am Aiden Willingham.”
Something flared in her eyes, like she’d known the answer before he’d said it. Aiden thought it was fairly apparent who he was.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, sounding sincere.
Aiden waited for the barrage of follow-up questions, but they didn’t come. Instead she looked around the space. “What was this place?”
Aiden glanced around as well. “It used to be a shop that produced parts for cars. It went bankrupt five years ago. Closed its doors overnight and put fifty-three people out of work.”
She looked at him oddly. “Were you one of them?”
A smile curved his lips. Looking back, he wished he could have had something as mundane as a factory job. “No.”
The detective stared at him, as if she could hear more in the single word than he’d said. Aiden wondered what she thought about him. He looked like a bum on purpose because the general population tended to overlook street people, deliberately. It worked for him to fade into the scenery.
This cop, this woman, was not going to overlook him anymore. She was seeing him. And that made his situation dangerous. She’d been pretty sneaky in her pursuit and for a moment in time he’d debated losing her, but his gut had once again decided his course of action. Something in him said that she was not a threat, so he’d allowed her to enter his bolthole.
The repercussions of that were far reaching, and he wondered if he’d fucked up. It wasn’t just his own safety on the line.
She’d just been staring at him for the past few seconds and it seemed like the silence finally got to her. “Will you answer my questions?”
He sighed and shifted his stance. “I doubt I can give you anything you need.”
The skin around her eyes tightened as she frowned and he found himself distracted again. She was one of the most striking women he’d ever seen. Her skin was positively flawless, now flushed a little darker pink from chasing him and the scare with the trap, but her gaze was sharp. The scrape on her cheek would disappear within a couple days.
“Why do you say that?”
He sighed, feeling weary. His life was built on secrets. There was so much he didn’t know if he dared talk about. It was one thing to open up to the team that had broken out of the jungle with him, but an average street cop probably didn’t have the scope of experience to grasp what was going on.
Aiden wished he could be a normal guy again, a normal SEAL even, but none of that was possible anymore.
When he’d agreed to be part of the Spartan Program, his status in the Navy had gone from active duty to KIA, killed in action. He hadn’t known that until he’d stolen their medical records and personnel files from Dr. Shu’s office after the man had tangled with a pit viper and died. Every person that had agreed to be part of the program had been listed with the same designation, no matter the country of origin. If they had families, the families were notified that their service member was not coming home and that there was a very low chance of ever recovering the body.
Which, looking back, it was a great way for the Collaborative to cover their asses. Tell the families their loved ones had been involved in something dangerous overseas and had died. No one would be looking for the men to come back, and it gave the Collaborative the option to use the men that survived the trials in their black ops.
The entire situation was so fucked up he didn’t know how he’d even begin to explain it to anyone.
Taking a heavy breath he wondered if he was about to make a mistake.
“What do you want to know?”
Her eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe he was giving her permission to interrogate him. “Really?”
Aiden gave her a single nod and resettled his stance, arms crossed over his chest. “But if I say I can’t answer it I won’t. Period.”
She nodded in agreement, then looked around like she wanted to sit down somewhere.
He supposed he should show her some courtesy. “Follow me. And step exactly where I do. E
xactly.”
He stared at her hard until she nodded, then he turned and started walking. As he led her through the traps he’d set, he glanced back way too often to check on her, but she did fine. Though she was tall, her feet were a lot smaller than his own and she had no problem following him through the dangerous labyrinth he’d created in his bolthole. Within a few minutes he’d reached the break room the factory workers had used when they’d been here. All of the tables and chairs were still inside, so he picked the one he normally sat at when he came in here and motioned for her to have a seat across from him. “Bottle of water?” he asked grudgingly.
She blinked up at him in surprise and smiled. “Yes, please.”
Aiden crossed to the vending machine he’d modified on the far wall. He punched a button and the water clattered to the door at the bottom, then he pressed the button again. Returning to the table he set the bottles down and took a seat across from her.
She looked at the bottled water like she’d never seen it before. “So, you obviously have power. Who maintains the vending machine?”
He lifted his brows at her, surprised that that was where she wanted to start.
“The machine was left and yes, the power is on. I modified the machine to refrigerate what I wanted it to and zeroed out the price.”
She frowned as she lifted the bottle and twisted off the cap, then took a long swallow. Aiden watched her delicate throat move and realized there were faint bruises along the sides where the drug dealer had held her. Anger surged within him. He should have stepped in sooner.
Setting the bottle down, she offered him a smile. “Thank you. I needed that.”
Without answering her he took a heavy swallow from his own bottle, his gaze never leaving her. She watched him drink, then abruptly jerked her eyes away to fumble in her purse. After a moment she drew out a notebook and pen.
Aiden snorted softly to himself. He should have known. Once a cop, always a cop.
