His skin felt like he’d been electrified. His lungs felt like they’d never again catch a full breath. And then she started to cry.
***
The world started spinning. At first Mallory thought it was the drink even though she was starting to sober up way too fast. She was in her bedroom. Alex was searching for the zipper in her dress and then slipping it from her shoulders, undressing her. She was surprised he hadn’t run screaming from the apartment.
Seduced by the crazy lady. Roll up, roll up.
She squeezed her eyes against scalding hot tears that reduced her to an emotional mess when all she’d wanted was to forget. No matter what she did this day always ended in tears. The whole time she and Alex had been having sex she’d been able to ignore the date and what it represented. As soon as they’d finished, the guilt had smashed back into her like a wrecking ball.
He pulled away. Why wouldn’t he? He must think she was a slutty lush with a screw loose. But she wasn’t crying because Alex might think badly of her. She and Payton had shared a special connection. When she’d been taken, it had been like losing a limb. She missed her sister. She really missed her sister. And she’d been the lucky one.
Tears kept coming. Tears that drained her of energy and light. Shame washed over her. Not about sex. Sex wasn’t important when you lined it up next to the loss or death of a young girl. She was ashamed she hadn’t solved the mystery, that despite their almost psychic connection she’d never been able to find her twin. She wanted to crawl under the bedspread and stay there for the whole weekend, or just drown in a bottle—but that was more dangerous. She covered her eyes with her hands. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Shush.” He pressed his hands to her shoulders and kissed her cheek. She leaned into that kiss. He unhooked her bra and then removed her stockings. She should have been embarrassed to stand there naked but she didn’t care. It reminded her he’d made her forget everything earlier, and maybe he could make her forget again.
She ran her hands over his torso. He had the most amazing body and exploring it was a million times better than thinking about what some sick animal had done to a nine-year old girl, eighteen years ago.
She traced a scar. How had he gotten all these wounds?
He grabbed her hands. “Let me clean up and we’ll talk.” He went into the bathroom.
The last thing she wanted to do was to talk so she headed back into the living room for another drink. Alex caught her before she got there.
“Let me go.” She tried to twist out of his embrace.
“Maybe I don’t want to.” His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against him.
“Then you’re crazy.”
“You and me both, babe. You and me both,” he whispered into her hair.
“Will you stay?” She held her breath. She really wanted him not to leave.
She felt his sigh reverberate through her ribcage. “I can’t.”
Her fingers tightened their grip on his wrists as he nuzzled her neck from behind. He was hard again. She could feel him hot and heavy against her hip, but she wasn’t going to beg. “I’m not ready to be alone yet.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the bed, kicked off his boots and climbed in behind her. He held her tight, offering comfort in his warm embrace. It felt good to be held in strong male arms. Better than she remembered. But he was handling her like a fragile child, and she hadn’t been a child in a very long time.
“I’m sorry about blubbing on you before.” She expected a joke in response. Instead he flipped her on her back.
“Don’t apologize,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you ever apologize to me.”
He settled between her thighs like he belonged there and she tilted her pelvis to make the fit even better. A wary expression crossed his features. They both knew if he hadn’t been wearing jeans he’d have been inside her again and that’s exactly where she wanted him.
He had a tiny scar bisecting his right eyebrow. She hadn’t noticed it before, but up close it looked like the sort of injury boxers got. She raised a finger to stroke it. The light in his eyes flickered. Then he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “I haven’t done a good job of making you forget whatever it is you need to forget.”
“Not true.” She rubbed her palm across the stubble of his jaw. “When you were inside me I forgot everything. I should thank you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, looked almost in pain. “I should go.” His warm breath brushed her ear, and his hands gripped her shoulders so hard she was going to have bruises tomorrow. She didn’t care.
“Okay.” She licked his bottom lip because she wanted him to stay and despite the words coming out of his mouth he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeper. Being with Alex took her away from reality and reality sucked.
She ran her hands over his strong back as he finally returned her kiss. His skin was smooth and hot, the muscles rippling in response to her touch.
He shifted, his mouth dipping to her breasts and she arched up off the bed as a fierce rush of pleasure pulsed through her. The scent of him made her hungry. The touch of his mouth and hands made her unable to hold a single thought in her head. Except sex. Sex. Right now. That driving primal urge. She went to work on his buttons and freed him from his pants.
“Condom,” he said between gritted teeth.
Crap.
She jerked open the bedside drawer, relieved to find a box. Alex scrambled out of his jeans, covered and buried himself deep. She locked her legs around his hips and then there were no thoughts, just sensation and pleasure and slick bodies, striving to get as close as possible, striving for that place where nothing else mattered.
Then just when she thought they were racing for the finish, Alex slowed everything down.
He brushed the hair off her forehead and pressed deep inside her, holding her gaze. He thrust again, leisurely, and each time a lick of wonder whipped through her. It felt amazing, one of those sensations you never wanted to end though you knew it couldn’t last forever. She matched him, taking the movement deeper, making him blink even though he never dropped her gaze. She was climbing higher and higher, and he was letting her get there slowly, drawing it out, making it last. She clutched at him, gasping as she went flying, out of control and unable to care.
“Fuck, Mallory.” And then he was pounding into her and groaning as he too reached that pinnacle where lightning burst along every nerve.
After a few moments they both stilled, skin damp, hearts thumping each other through hollow ribcages.
He started to withdraw. She gripped him tight. “Stay.”
“I can’t.” But he didn’t move away. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them so she sprawled on top of him.
Sated and satisfied, she began to drift off to sleep. “You’re a good man, Alex Parker.”
He kissed the top of her head. “No. But you make me feel like I could be.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alex slipped out of bed and dressed, careful not to make a sound. Mallory was finally resting. He’d lain awake for a good hour just holding her—making sure she was properly asleep. He rolled his eyes. He could never be anything but a cold-blooded killer and the sooner he reminded himself of that, the better.
Walking into her quiet living room he stood for a moment, trying to ignore the ache of loneliness. The room was decorated in neutral colors, attractive, plush, but with no real character. Unlike Mallory, who was so damn full of character she was impossible to ignore. He picked up her heels and grinned.
Damn shoes. Damn dress. Damn perfect body and tragic eyes.
He put the shoes down softly and reminded himself he had a job to do. Screwing Mallory was just a way of doing that more efficiently. Sure, asshole. He booted up her laptop and watched as it connected to the internet. Two minutes later he’d uploaded the software he needed to access not only her keyboard strokes, but also all ingoin
g and outgoing mail, plus the camera and mic. He deleted all evidence of the download from the system and closed down the computer. He picked up his jacket, which lay crumpled on the floor, checked the inner pocket for the camera and bug he’d brought with him. He’d initially followed her to the bar last night to get an indication of how long she’d be so he could break in and set up surveillance. Somehow he’d got caught in a honeytrap of his own making.
He bent down to retrieve his wallet and scattered belongings from near the door where they’d first had sex. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. If he carried on thinking about all the different ways they’d fucked, he’d end up crawling back into bed with her in the hopes of scoring one-last-time. And that wasn’t going to happen ever again.
Regret clawed inside him.
There was no doubt he was highly attracted to Mallory and would love to see her again. But if she knew what he really was, and the illegal activities he carried out on behalf of people inside their government, she’d be disgusted. He didn’t want her to want him under false pretenses, but there was no way he could confess the truth. So getting out of her hair before she woke up was the right thing to do.
So why the hell did it feel so wrong?
Added to the equation, his boss might not be too happy to know just how close he’d stuck to his target last night. Skin-on-skin probably wasn’t what they’d had in mind when he’d received that order. Five-hundred and thirty-seven more days and he’d be out of this shit for good. For some reason the idea failed to bring its usual peace.
He removed the camera from his pocket and planted it beneath a table beside the front door. It gave a wide-angle view of the living room and a glimpse of the kitchen. The audio bug sat neatly inside a lamp on the far side of the room. There was a large blue box sitting on the dining table. Curious, he eased up the lid and saw a stack of files and newspaper cuttings about her sister’s abduction. He clenched his jaw. How did it feel when someone you loved disappeared into the ether never to be heard of again? He didn’t know but it reminded him of the importance of what he did.
He helped stop monsters.
Shrugging into his jacket he tried to ignore the guilt that ate at his conscience, telling himself he’d given Mallory what she needed—a few hours of mindless pleasure and a sound sleep.
Yeah, he was a real hero.
It had been a long time since he’d found comfort anywhere or in anything. It took every ounce of willpower not to return to the bedroom and climb back into her bed. Instead, he left soundlessly through the front door and started walking southwest. Maybe if he just kept going for long enough he’d escape all the mistakes he’d made with his life—another impossible dream. Although, like Mallory, he’d forgotten for just a little while last night.
Knowing he’d been out of touch for way too long he turned his phone on as he hit Dupont Circle. Swore as he read the messages. There’d been a major cyber attack on one of the big banks overnight—a bank that had originally consulted Cramer, Parker & Gray, Security Consultants, and then told them that their services were too costly and had gone with one of their less expensive competitors.
You got what you paid for, although you could never completely safeguard against attackers, you just had to be prepared to detect and defend once an attack occurred.
Alex was glad of the distraction. His colleagues had been running interference and damage control all night so now it was his turn. Better to think about code and strategy than to remember the dark head that had nestled against his heart while she slept.
Unable to stop himself, he texted her. “Emergency at work. Gotta go in. Enjoy rest of weekend.” Even as he pressed send he shook his head and jammed the cell in his pocket. He’d obviously lost his fucking mind.
***
Mallory had been assigned to work with Supervisory Special Agent Frazer’s team at BAU-4 which dealt with serial killings involving adults and other unusual crimes. The man didn’t know about SSA Hanrahan’s amendment to her normal duties. She sat in on her first team meeting at nine AM Monday morning. Despite knowing why she was really here, she was excited at the chance to be working with these people.
Expressions on her coworkers’ faces were less than thrilled; they ranged from distracted, guarded, to openly hostile. One guy looked like he wanted to get in her pants. The last, Frazer’s, was calculating. Despite his gleaming blond hair, he didn’t remind her of a movie star today. He was stern and forbidding and brought to mind instead a powerful law enforcement officer who carried both a badge and a gun and took his duties very seriously. No way would he bend the rules and work with a vigilante—right?
“Special Agent Rooney has come to us from the Charlotte Division. She was heavily involved in the Meacher case.” Frazer introduced her around. BAU-4 had finished assisting the Meacher investigation. All the video information had been copied and the originals stored in evidence. Victim identification was ongoing but that would be mainly up to the Charlotte field agents and forensics.
Mallory nodded and kept her mouth shut. She couldn’t say she hadn’t really done anything except answer the phone if she wanted to maintain an ounce of credibility here but she hated lying.
“Why isn’t she doing the usual training course?” asked a woman with ink black hair and equally dark eyes.
Mallory shifted uncomfortably. Agents joining the BAU completed a sixteen week training course in the classroom before rotating through each of the Behavioral Analysis Units to gain a broad range of experience. It could take up to two years to complete. No wonder these people were suspicious and pissed.
“She is, but the next session doesn’t start until late January so she’s sitting in with us until that time.”
The dark-haired agent sniffed.
“I know we all have active cases we’re working on at this moment, but we have a new case that we’ve been asked to assist with and I want to make it a priority,” Frazer continued. Thank God, because she was starting to sweat under the intense scrutiny. “Over the last year, there have been a series of murders of young women in their late teens to late thirties.” He put up smiling photographs of six young women, all with brown-black hair. Below each one he placed a crime scene photograph of their bodies. Mallory winced. Their faces had been brutally beaten and it looked like they’d been strangled.
“Evidence suggests the women were all taken off the highways so we’re working with Special Agent Tate from HSK—Highway Serial Killings Initiative—on this.” He nodded to the guy who’d been staring at Mallory like she was his favorite flavor of ice cream.
She wasn’t in the least bit attracted to the guy but was instantly reminded of Alex and what they’d done on Friday night. She swallowed hard. Waking up to find him gone had been both a relief and a disappointment. The fact he’d sent her a text had done funny things to her heart—things she couldn’t afford. Friday night had been an anomaly. A one-off never to be repeated. The thought depressed the crap out of her.
She kept her expression neutral as she listened to Frazer. She took her work seriously, even if it seemed it didn’t take her very seriously at the moment. There was no way in hell she’d hook up with a colleague, but—her stomach sank—it was probably a good angle to use in terms of her other investigation. Not hooking up, but maybe being friendlier than she really wanted. Although there was no way she could do anything that made her feel like she’d sold her soul. She needed to hang on to some shred of dignity.
“What’s that on the victims’ chests?” She leaned closer trying to get a better look at the images but she couldn’t make it out. The women were naked, but posed almost childlike with their hands placed over their pubic region.
SSA Frazer pinched his lips together. “The killer carves something on the victim’s left breast.” Frazer pulled another picture from the case file and put it on the white board.
“Is that an AR or AK?” the HSK agent quizzed.
Frazer put up close-ups of all the mutilation and every cell in Mallory’s
body froze.
“The work in the first few victims is crude but eventually he refines his technique. We’re pretty sure it represents the letters PR within a love heart.”
Her heartbeat sped up. PR—Payton Rooney? Or something else?
Frazer held her gaze as if searching for a reaction. She refused to give him one.
“We don’t know what the significance of the letters is yet.”
“Ante- or postmortem?” The dark-haired woman asked.
Mallory braced herself and let out a sigh of relief when Frazer replied, “Post.”
“Sexual assault?” asked one of the guys.
“Yes. Victims appear to have been kept alive for some time and subjected to repeated sexual assault.”
“Any relation to the Meacher murders?” asked Mallory. There were similarities here, as well as obvious differences.
“Not that’s been discovered so far. The latest victim was found two days after the Meacher takedown and the ME puts time of death after Meacher’s demise. But these cases have occurred in the states of North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia—Meacher’s hunting grounds—so I’m not ready to rule out some connection. I want you to review the files with that in mind.” He didn’t look convinced, but good law enforcement officers kept open minds.
“So, unless Meacher had an accomplice, it’s probably a different offender.” Mallory mulled over the accomplice-who’d-turned-against-his-partner versus the vigilante angle. She needed to take a closer look at the cases and talk to Lucas back in Charlotte—she’d left him messages but so far no reply. It had been a blow to realize she couldn’t share her vigilante theory with him anyway because Hanrahan had sworn her to secrecy. She hated this. Maybe the theory was the result of watching too many TV cop shows and listening to conspiracy theory crackpots.
01 A Cold Dark Place Page 8
