Deadly Contact

by Lara Lacombe

  She looked down to find it was empty. When had that happened? Shaking her head, she released her death grip on the fork and passed it over. “Thanks.”

  “Least I could do, seeing as how I’m the only uninjured person in this place.” He gathered up the detritus of their meal with efficient movements, then carted it all into the kitchen. After a moment, she heard the water running and the faint sound of singing.

  She glanced over at James, who shook his head with a smile.

  “Is he always like this?”

  “Pretty much.” James stretched his legs out with a sigh, then patted the cushion next to him. After a second of hesitation, Kelly slid over until they were sitting side by side.

  “You doing okay?” he said softly, his dark brown eyes searching her face.

  She felt his gaze like a touch, featherlight on her features. The sensation made her heart stutter-step, so she nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Kelly closed her eyes, knowing that this was her opportunity. She could tell him all about Gary and her past, expose all her secrets so they could move on. She wanted to do it. She needed to do it. It was time.

  She opened her mouth, but Thomas chose that instant to really turn up the volume on his kitchen concert. Who was she kidding? They couldn’t talk with someone ten feet away, even though he was clearly trying to generate a noise complaint from the neighbors.

  “Just wondering when George will call back,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

  Was that disappointment in his eyes? Before she could examine his expression too closely, her phone rang.

  She froze and her heart leaped into her throat.

  It was time.

  * * *

  James sat up and leaned forward, placing his hand over the phone. Thomas stopped his god-awful singing and appeared in the doorway, his expression focused and determined.

  Kelly looked scared to death. She glanced at him with wide eyes, biting her bottom lip so hard it was a wonder it didn’t bleed.

  “Get him to commit to a location and time for the meet,” James said, willing her to stay calm. “Don’t ask too many questions, though. We don’t want to spook him.” At her nod, he lifted his hand. “You’ll be great.”

  She sent him a wavering smile, took a deep breath and answered the phone.

  “Hello?” She frowned slightly. “Nothing’s wrong, other than the fact I don’t feel good. I have a cold, remember?”

  James held his breath, hoping George would accept Kelly’s excuse. Her voice was strained, but hopefully she could convince him she was just grumpy from being sick.

  “No, it’s okay—I can get the vials for you.”

  James scooted forward to the edge of his seat, as if getting closer would help Kelly pin George down. Thomas moved to sit on her other side, and the pair of them strained to hear the other man’s words. Kelly angled the phone away from her ear so he and Thomas could hear George’s side of the conversation, too.

  “...appreciate it,” he heard the other man say. “I would ask one of the graduate students, but you’re really the only one I can trust.”

  “I understand,” Kelly soothed, doing a great job of sounding normal. “Where are the vials stored?”

  George relayed the location, which she scratched onto a napkin.

  “Okay,” she said, looking at James while she spoke. “When and where do you want to meet me to pick these up?”

  George was silent for a beat, and James felt his palms grow damp with sweat. He knew. Somehow, he had figured out Kelly was with the FBI.

  “George?” Kelly asked when the silence stretched out. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, dear. Sorry, I just had a thought there for a moment.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s meet at the science museum tomorrow at four, shall we? I know how much you like to visit that one.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kelly replied. “That’ll give me time to duck in and see the new exhibit before they close for the day.”

  “Splendid,” George replied absently. “See you by the elephant, then?”

  They said their goodbyes and she hung up, looking at James with doubt in her eyes. “Did that seem too easy?”

  “Maybe,” he said, glancing over at Thomas. “Or maybe he’s telling the truth.”

  Thomas snorted. “Doubt it. Let’s see if we got a trace.” He flipped open his phone and made a call, stepping out of the room to talk.

  James absently rubbed his side while he considered the motives behind George’s choice of meeting place. The museum was a busy, public place. Did Collins think he would be able to slip into the crowd and evade detection? That he could get past all the FBI agents and police that would be in place? Unless he didn’t know he was a wanted man.

  Maybe he wasn’t afraid of the law at all, but rather Caleb and his lot. Meeting in such a crowded location did ensure a certain degree of safety. Caleb probably wouldn’t risk causing a huge scene in the rotunda of one of the busiest locations on the Mall, and he bet George was counting on that.

  The crowd was going to be a problem. While the mass of people might help keep things from getting violent, James and the rest of the team couldn’t risk their safety if things went south. They could flood the museum with plainclothes police and FBI agents, but the chances of a civilian getting hurt were still too great. They couldn’t just close the museum, though, or George would know something was wrong. How could they secure the premises without giving away their plan?

  Ultimately, it wasn’t up to him. Carmichael had the final say on any operational plan, and, given Thomas’s earlier revelation, James didn’t trust the man to do the right thing.

  He glanced up as Thomas stepped back into the room. “No dice on the trace. He used a burn phone.”

  James wasn’t surprised by the news. Of course it couldn’t have been that easy. “Which means it probably wasn’t his.”

  “You thinking Caleb?”

  “Yeah. Collins doesn’t strike me as sophisticated enough to know that he should use a burn phone, much less where to get one.”

  “Agreed.”

  James stood and ran a hand through his hair. “We need to get our people in place to secure the museum ASAP. I’d bet my pension that Caleb will be there tomorrow, and we need to be ready to take them both out.”

  “You know that’s not our call.”

  Frustration welled up, making him flush hot and then cold. He shot a glare at Thomas, who held his hands up in surrender.

  “I’ll head to the office, see if I can’t talk some sense into him face-to-face.”

  James nodded, his temper cooling a bit. Kincannon was a good agent and probably the only one who could convince Carmichael to do the right thing. “Probably better if you talk to him,” he said drily. “He’d only yell at me for getting shot, and then I’d have to strangle him.”

  “I’ll check in with you later,” Thomas said, heading for the door. “See you at the office.”

  “Watch your back,” James cautioned as he followed a step behind. “I don’t like any of this.”

  “One way or another,” Thomas said in a low voice, “this is going to wrap up tomorrow.”

  “Yes, but at what cost? We can’t sacrifice civilians, and you know as well as I do that the museum is going to be crawling with kids. We’ve got to figure out a way to protect them.”

  Thomas cut him off with a slash of his hand. “I’m on it. I’ll get the rest of the team together, and we’ll figure it out. Meantime, you get some rest. You’re beat to hell, and we’re going to need you tomorrow. If you want to worry about something, worry about taking care of her.” He jerked his head in the direction of the den. “She’s not looking so hot.”

  “She’s tougher than she looks.”

  “Maybe, but people can only take so much.” Thomas opened the door and stepped into the hall. “Stay by your phone.”

  James locked the door and headed for the kitch
en. After dumping cat food into bowls, he returned to the den to find Kelly curled up at the end of the couch, staring off into space.

  He recognized that stare. He’d even done it himself a few times. It was the gaze of a person who was shocked to their core, teetering on the edge of despair and desperation. And was it any wonder? Her whole world had been turned upside down: she’d been shot, and her boss had just asked her to aid and abet the commission of an act of bioterrorism. She was due for a breakdown, and it was a testament to her strength of character that she hadn’t folded yet.

  God, he wanted to hold her. Wrap her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. She looked so lost and lonely, and it tugged at his heart, making him want to tell her things he had no business saying. Things he had no business feeling, especially not when she still wasn’t being completely honest with him.

  He knew she wasn’t involved with Caleb and his organization, but she was hiding something. Something that scared her, if her reaction to his probing was any indication. Now that they were alone, maybe he could get her to talk....

  She didn’t look at him when he sat next to her, but he knew she was aware of him by the way she tensed slightly.

  After a moment, she spoke, her voice rough and low. “Are you really going to take him out tomorrow?”

  He mentally winced, cursing his earlier choice of words. If he had to, yes, he absolutely would kill Collins, especially if it meant keeping Kelly or any other innocents safe. That didn’t mean he had to rub it in her face. She had worked with the man for a while, and it was understandable that she’d be upset at the thought of his death.

  “Hey,” he said softly, waiting until she met his eyes. “We’re not going to hurt him.”

  “What if he makes you?” she asked, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  James handed her a napkin that Thomas had left behind in the cleanup, which earned him a wobbly smile of thanks. “He won’t.”

  She shook her head, as if doubting his words. “I thought I knew him,” she said, dabbing her eyes with the napkin. “I never figured him for the kind of person who would do something like this.”

  “I understand,” he said. She snorted, and he replied, “No, really, I do. You think you know someone, and it hurts to find out you were wrong about them. It makes you question your judgment, and you start second-guessing yourself.”

  Recognition dawned on her face. “That’s exactly it!” she said, sounding relieved. “I’m thinking about all the people I know, wondering what horrible things they’re all capable of.”

  “That’ll fade with time,” he assured her. “You probably won’t trust people as easily anymore, but you will get to the point where you’re not always waiting for them to do something bad.”

  Her eyes were round as she studied him. “It sounds like you speak from experience,” she observed, her voice soft. “Who betrayed you?”

  “What makes you think I’ve been betrayed?”

  She merely stared at him, wearing the expression of one who has reached the finish line and is waiting for everyone else to catch up.

  He looked at his lap for a moment, then back up at her. “He was a good friend.”

  “Want to talk about it?” Her voice was soft, the tone understanding.

  He sighed quietly, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown. “Before I joined the FBI, I was a D.C. cop for a few years,” he said slowly, feeling his way back into a story he hadn’t told in years. “One of my best friends from high school went through the academy with me. We were so excited—we were going to save the world, that sort of thing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “We were so damn naive.”

  “Were you partners after the academy?”

  “No. I worked in the gang unit, and he was assigned to narcotics. Our paths did cross, though, as you might expect,” he drawled, arching a brow in her direction. She smiled faintly.

  “Quite.”

  “Everything was fine for about a year and a half, and then Steve’s demeanor changed completely.”

  “How do you mean?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  “He went from being a frugal guy—never really bought anything for himself, drove the same car for ten years, that kind of thing—to suddenly spending money like it was going out of style.” Suddenly restless, James grabbed the remote and turned it over and over in his hands.

  “I asked him about it,” he said, putting it back on the table. “He said he had to dress the part, or else the dealers would make him for a cop. I didn’t press for details. I think I knew even then that he was dirty, but I didn’t want to confirm it.”

  “I can understand that,” Kelly said softly. “If you don’t have proof, you can pretend nothing is wrong.”

  “Exactly.” He shook his head. “I remained firmly entrenched in my denial over the next several months, while Steve continued to burn through money. It all came to a head one night in July.”

  He told her about their fight, about his refusal to throw away his own career to help out a friend. The way Steve had stormed out, never to be seen again. Looking back on it, there were so many things he would have done differently, but that was the gift—and the curse—of hindsight.

  James jerked when a hand landed on his arm. He looked up to find Kelly watching him with knowing eyes. “I know you did the right thing,” she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not so sure.” He paused, recalling the crime-scene photos of Steve’s body. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “What’s done is done.”

  Kelly’s hand was warm on his arm; her thumb moved back and forth with gentle strokes that sent shivers of awareness across his skin. He turned to face her, and the way she was staring at him, her eyes dark and heated, had his mouth going dry and his heart pounding. Then she parted her lips, her pink tongue darting out to leave behind a shiny gloss on her mouth, and he nearly groaned aloud.

  Unable to stop himself, he reached out to cup her face and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. She nipped at it, biting him gently, sending a tingle of awareness shooting up his arm and into his belly. She closed her eyes and leaned closer, pressing herself against him and snaking her good arm around his waist.

  In the dim recesses of his brain, he heard his conscience telling him to stop. A split second more, and he would have listened to that voice. But then Kelly stretched up and captured his mouth with hers, letting out a little moan of satisfaction that nearly undid him.

  She broke the kiss and stood over him, her mouth swollen, her eyes shining. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself onto his lap until she was straddling him, her hand clutching his shoulder. He gasped as she settled over his erection. The pleasure of the contact forced his eyes closed. For a moment, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and then he became aware of her hot mouth trailing kisses across his neck.

  He felt her fumble at his belt buckle. Yes, yes! He reached up to grab her shoulders, remembering too late her injury. Her slight gasp brought him back down to earth, and he opened his eyes.

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I make it worse?” He fought to steady his breathing as he eyed her shoulder. It didn’t look as if the wound was bleeding again, but he had obviously caused her pain by touching it.

  She smiled, pushing a strand of hair off his forehead. “It’s fine.” She leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m fine.” She moved in again, but he pressed a finger to her mouth, stopping her.

  “What are we doing here?” he whispered. It felt so good, so right to have her in his arms again, but if she was going to regret this in the morning, it wasn’t worth it. Then an ugly thought occurred to him, making him suck in a breath.

  “Are you doing this because you think you owe me?”

  She reared back, almost falling off his lap. He clamped his hands on her hips to keep her in place. “Owe you?” Two pink spots appeared high on her cheeks, and he had the disti
nct impression that if she’d had a free hand, she would have slapped him. “Do I look like a prostitute to you?”

  He definitely knew the correct answer to this question, but the fact that she had asked it did not bode well for him. “No, of course not—” he began.

  “I was not going to sleep with you because of any feeling of obligation on my part.” The words were clipped and sharp as she struggled to slide off his lap. With a sigh, he helped her to stand, missing the warmth of her body after she moved away. She glared down at him for a beat before her eyes slid away. The angry set of her mouth relaxed before she spoke, the words almost a whisper. “I just wanted to connect with you, that’s all.”

  He blinked up at her in disbelief. “You want to connect with me? I seem to remember you walking away the last time we ‘connected.’”

  She winced, and he knew his words had struck a nerve. He felt a prick of guilt at upsetting her, but being so close to her again had dredged up the hurt feelings he still carried from her earlier rejection. It was small of him, but he wanted her to have a taste of that same rejection.

  “I made a mistake,” she began, not looking at him. “I see that now.”

  He snorted. “A mistake? A mistake is forgetting to put the clothes in the dryer. That’s not what you did. You basically set our friendship on fire and then walked away without looking back.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “The hell it’s not!” He stood, not wanting to have this conversation while she towered over him. “Not only did you run away, but you refused to return my calls. I could have dealt with it if you didn’t want to keep sleeping together—it would have hurt my feelings, but I would have gotten over it. What killed me was the fact that you cut me out of your life entirely.” His throat tightened at the admission, his emotions threatening to boil over and erupt out of him like an exploding volcano. It was too much, so he turned away and headed for the door.

  “Wait.” Her voice stopped him before he could leave the room. “You want to know why I left? I was scared.”