“I’ll need your identification, Mr. Bayliss.”
Aiden pulled out his wallet. The officer compared the photo on the card to Aiden, double-checked the data, and used a small blue light to check the hidden markings on his DC license. Aiden felt like he should be getting on a plane rather than going home.
“Thank you,” the officer said, lifting the yellow tape for Aiden to pass under it.
The brief interaction made Aiden wonder how Cait had managed to get a driver’s license. When he’d turned his phone back on after a ridiculous four hours of Chavez’s interrogation, he’d gotten her text and voice mail. It had put the bounce back in his step, but all the way home he’d been wondering what she’d say. Don’t ever contact me again for any reason was at the top of his worry list.
That led to wondering what an alien hunter actually did. How did you get paid for that sort of work? Did she get paid? How did aliens set up bank accounts, and from there, how did they manage payroll?
Speaking of payroll, God, how would he have to change his own payroll if he actually ended up in Seattle or Dallas?
Dallas Metro was the latest city the Council had mentioned when he’d pushed them, via email, about a transfer. They were just going through the motions. He knew that now. All the power in the world didn’t make you stable, and it was clear that the Council believed he wasn’t.
He wasn’t going to tell them what he’d done to Cait, but in light of what he’d done, Aiden figured the Council’s reasons might be valid.
Mrs. Potts greeted him the moment he cleared the top step.
“Aiden dear! You’re back!” she gushed, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She wore a frilly, flower-bedecked apron wrapped around her spare middle.
“Would you like some ginger cookies? Oh, you have a hot drink already. Cookies will set it right off.”
Never one to turn down Mrs. Potts’s baking, and using the opening to get intel on what the cops were up to, he followed her into her condo. She’d set up a serious refreshment stand, with piles of golden brown cookies, both cinnamon and ginger.
He topped off his own coffee with extra cream and wrapped five of each type of cookie in a napkin to take home with him.
“This is quite a spread, Mrs. Potts.”
“I didn’t have anywhere to be today. I told our lovely new neighbor, Cait, earlier that I figured if they were going to be here anyway, they might as well keep me company. It’s fun to have all these handsome men and pretty young women visit.”
Aiden bent to kiss her soft cheek. “You’re a gem, Mrs. Potts. Thanks for the cookies.”
Mrs. Potts beamed. “You’re quite welcome, Aiden. Stop back later, and I’ll have chocolate chip.”
He was turning to go when a flash of brown stopped him. Cait came up the stairs. As she scanned the scene, their eyes met, and Aiden felt the zing. It was still there, and this time it went all the way to his soul.
Aiden headed toward Cait as she reached the top of the stairs. He moved slowly, easily, giving her time to speed up and avoid him if that was her preference. She didn’t, but her smile was meant for onlookers. It was wary and didn’t reach her eyes.
He felt like he was in high school, asking a girl out on a date for the first time. Complete, total insecurity sucked. He had no idea whether she wanted to acknowledge the stuff he’d sent or to tell him to go to hell, where he damn well belonged.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she quipped, as he had the first day on the canal. Had that been yesterday? Two days ago? Three? He was losing track.
She tapped the edge of her carry-out coffee cup to his. “God, those cookies smell like heaven.” Her eyes were on Mrs. Potts’s door, over his left shoulder.
“Taste that way too.”
“I know,” she said smugly, still not meeting his gaze. “I got to be taste tester this morning since you were otherwise occupied.” Now she looked at the group of forensics people standing off to the side watching and listening to every word.
“Hmmm, trying to take my job, are you?” He offered the napkin, and she took a cookie. She glanced at his face, but still avoided his eyes.
I’m sorry, Cait. He couldn’t say it out loud. Not with people standing a few feet away.
She bit into the cookie, and her eyes half closed as she enjoyed the flavor. Aiden felt the zing hook itself deeper into his gut. She licked a crumb off her lower lip and the zing went straight to his groin. Shit.
“She could take over the world with cookies like this.”
“Rumor has it there’ll be chocolate chip later.”
“Heaven on a plate,” Cait murmured as Mrs. Potts came out to greet her. “Got to taste those earlier too.” And now her eyes were on Mrs. Potts. On anything she could find except him.
“Oh, come in, Cait, come in! Have some fresh cookies!”
“Thank you. Aiden was just sharing his with me. You make a fabulous cookie, Mrs. Potts.”
“I do, if I say so myself.” She preened. “It’s a pleasure to cook for healthy appetites, even if it is only a few cookies.”
Aiden still couldn’t catch Cait’s eye. Mrs. P was obviously reveling in the praise and attention. She was as amenable today as she’d been cranky with the agents before.
Mrs. Potts tugged Cait forward. “Sit down and have a nice chat while I see to the batch in the oven.”
Neutral territory, Aiden decided, and stood aside to let Cait go in. Perfect.
She sat, draping her coat over the arm of the sofa and setting her bags on the floor. He offered her another cookie, and she accepted. He sat on the far end of the sofa, giving her space.
“Mrs. Potts used to be pastry chef at one of the embassies,” he said. “She makes heaping plates of cookies at the holidays, puts them in the lobby and leaves them at the door in one of those little tins.”
He saw the minute frown, the sadness that passed over Cait’s features, but she smiled to cover it. “Something to look forward to, for sure. These are out of this world.”
“Really? That good?” So she wouldn’t be here at Christmas. Good to know.
She grinned, cheeky in spite of the obvious sarcasm in his delivery. But still, she didn’t meet his eyes.
“Really. Nothing,” she emphasized, “nothing compares to home baked.”
He let that lie. No way to pursue it as a question with two cops lurking by the coffee urn.
“Do you bake?” he asked.
“I cook if it comes in a carton I can heat up, but otherwise, I’d starve.” She studied her cookie with great interest. “What about you? Gourmet chef? Secret longing to own a restaurant?”
“Yes, actually, but it’ll never happen,” he said easily, wondering if she was psychic in addition to everything else. He wasn’t going to ask. He’d made enough mistakes. “I’ll fix you dinner sometime. You can grade the performance.”
Wham. She finally looked straight at him.
“Seriously? You cook?”
He laughed at the dubious expression. “Sure. My mom made sure her son could cook and her daughter could change a tire. I took to the cooking. Did a stint as a sous chef after college.”
“Seriously? I’d be better at the tire,” Cait admitted, and refocused on the cookie.
“So’s my sister.”
She grinned and so did he. Her eyes met his again. Evidently—maybe—they had a truce.
“Don’t get a flat much anymore, or have to worry about it if I do. I specialize in getting stamps in my passport.”
Was she just making conversation? Or was there some deeper meaning to her words? He was lost, but at least she was speaking to him.
“No entanglements, no hassles.” He took a chance and baited her.
“No need to hit anything with a tire iron,” she bandied back.
Point to Cait.
“Ever miss home?”
It was if he’d pulled the plug on an especially bright lamp.
Chapter Sixteen
Cait’s smile disappeared, and she rose as
she said it.
“All the time. As you well guessed.”
She gathered her things. “I’d better go. I’ve got work.”
“I’m sorry.” He rose to stand beside her. “Sinking your life into your work can be hard,” he said, gently.
Who was he to talk?
As a distraction, he called to Mrs. Potts as she came out of the kitchen with more coffee. “You need anything from the market, Mrs. Potts? I’m going tomorrow. Or you, Cait?”
“I may, Aiden, with all this activity,” Mrs. Potts said, obviously happy with all the attention her cookies were garnering. “I’ll let you know.”
“Do you have your Halloween candy?” he asked.
Cait interrupted. “There are actually trick-or-treaters in the building?”
“Oh, yes. Several children live on the upper floors, and some in the building next door, too. Everybody has candy ready, so they don’t have to go outside on the streets,” Mrs. Potts said. “The management association does bobbing for apples and so forth in the garden.”
“Oh, my,” Cait muttered. “I haven’t needed to think about Halloween in years. I guess I’ll take you up on your offer, Aiden. I wouldn’t know how much to buy. I have a lot of work pending. I’m guessing that on my field work, I’ll have a posse of media and FBI following me.”
“Yeah,” Aiden said, shaking his head. “The press is back in full force.”
“They tried to buttonhole me when I went for my walk this morning,” Mrs. Potts exclaimed. “Nearly knocked me down. I had to hit one young, rather aggressive reporter with my cane.”
“You don’t use a cane,” Aiden said with a frown.
“I did this morning.” Mrs. Potts grinned and bustled off to the kitchen again.
Aiden said, “Can you do your work from inside your condo?”
“No. Not effectively.” A short and honest answer. “Certainly not what I’m here for.” She glanced at the feasting officers. They were chatting, so likely not listening, but still, she spoke quietly and kept it vague. He leaned forward to hear and was glad to see that she didn’t flinch away. “I have to go back along the river,” she said. “Without the press.”
“Can you go at night?”
The thought of her traipsing along the towpath in the dark was nasty unpleasant, even for him. She was a former marine, and well-armed, but her expression said it held no appeal for her either.
“Sorry, bad idea.”
She shrugged it off. “Early morning might be my best option, right at dawn. Problem is,” she lowered her voice even more. “That raises the eyebrows of our watchers here.”
“Why are you…” he stopped mid-sentence. Things pulled together and locked into place with a click.
The disturbance along the river.
Her forays along the river.
What she really did for a living.
“You’re sampling to get a pinpoint,” he finally said. “A location.”
Wary, she nodded, glancing casually around the room. “Yes. I need to pick something up and get it out of DC.”
He thought about it. Alien hunter. He had felt that disturbance. The otherness feel of it. So that’s what an alien felt like.
He might have yet another olive branch to offer.
“I have a location for you,” he said. “I’ve been monitoring it. Perhaps we could talk about it over dinner? My treat, of course.”
Cait stared at him for what felt like a full minute. “If you can give me a location and I can do my job, then I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Nice. I’ll be sure to pick something really expensive,” he teased, seeing Mrs. Potts coming back. Cait had surprised the hell out of him by joking with him. It was good though. He recovered to say, “Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a cheap date. What about this evening at seven? I don’t think either of us will get any work done today, given that the building is a three-ring-circus again.”
Cait’s eyes danced all over the room now. She bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable.
Ah, hell. Too fast.
“Did I just hear you ask Cait for a date?” Mrs. Potts almost squealed as she came back to the conversation. “Isn’t that nice?” She beamed at Cait. “Aiden is a real Southern gentleman,” she said, offering her endorsement. “You’ll have a good time.”
“Good to know.” Cait’s wry smile actually twinkled in her eyes as she met his gaze, and it shot right to Aiden’s gut, like a punch of heat, and made his visions leap to mind.
The ones where she was naked, rising over him, hot and ready.
“Now you’ve made him blush,” Cait teased, and the husky tone stoked what he was feeling even more. Aiden felt the heat in his face. Good Lord, the woman’s voice alone seemed to be keyed into his libido.
Cait jerked her eyes away. She pressed her cheek to Mrs. Potts’s crinkled one. “Thank you for the cookies and coffee. Best I’ve ever had.” She turned and headed for the door.
“See you tonight, Cait?” he called and she waved as she crossed the upper lobby.
He thanked Mrs. Potts as well and he too headed for the door. He had work to do, and no idea whether he actually had a date with Cait Brennan or not.
First things first, a reservation, just in case. Second, a deep magical cleansing of his building and a continued refilling of the well of power. Whatever had happened in Three-A, he couldn’t let it damage the building’s shields or protections.
Third, figure the hell out how whatever happened went unnoticed until the doors were opened. That was so off, he had no words for it, and he had no clue what it meant except a damn fine job of cloaking.
Screams resonated in his mind as he stepped into the hall. He could identify the residual signatures now, like ghosts on the stage of memory.
Mrs. Potts. The senator’s aides. Mrs. Paxton. Senator Hathaway.
Now that the barriers were broken, and the scene open, he could get a sense of the agony, the deaths of the participants in that terrible bloodbath.
What he couldn’t get was the how.
A tech opened the door to the garden, checking the locking mechanism. When she did, Aiden caught another whiff of that acrid smell. Having caught it twice now, he recognized it immediately. He moved closer.
“No one uses that, or at least they haven’t since I’ve lived here,” he offered, as a way to get a conversation started. “It goes to the courtyard.”
The tech nodded. “I know.” To her colleague, she said, “I think it’s our entry point. Got some blood on the door.”
Aiden moved back as other techs hustled over to check the findings. It made sense. Ingress and egress that didn’t involve the main lobby.
The only problem with that? There was no exit to the street from the courtyard. All the doors led into the building, and all were alarmed and monitored by the guard desk.
There was a careful bustle as the other techs watched the first, everyone keeping a respectful distance.
He was about to go into his condo when he heard the tech say, “Wow!”
He looked back. She lay on the floor, the door propped open, her legs the only thing showing. She was examining one of the top, rubberized stair treads that led down to the outer door.
“We got more blood here.”
Somehow, the predator hadn’t used an exterior door to escape. So, whatever it was, it didn’t need one.
* * *
Cait plopped her bags on the counter and, tossed her purse on the couch.
Holy shit. When Aiden had asked her to dinner, why hadn’t she said no? Was there an alternative to dinner with him, if he might have a lead on the Ty-Op? She glanced around the apartment.
No. She didn’t want him here, in her space. Not yet. Not after what had happened last night.
She grabbed a Coke and booted up her computer, setting it and her PDA to update. Crap. The series of symbols and beeps told her it would take a while.
Aiden had been different today. There’d been a heaviness around him, like a weight sat on his
shoulders. When she’d looked in his eyes, there was a weariness. A misery.
On the one hand, his own actions had wrought the present situation. On the other hand…
Not your problem, Cait.
Cait’s gaze settled on the coffee table, with its riot of flowers, and the boxes lined up neatly by the sofa where she’d left them after she opened the gifts.
She’d never seen, or been given, more thoughtful or more perfectly considered gifts in her life.
Somehow, he got it. He understood the isolation, the loneliness. The thought behind the things he’d purchased—up to the wryly funny sweatshirt about being in Witness Protection—spoke to that understanding.
“God, you’re waffling,” she said, disgusted with herself. “He trapped you, and you’re considering giving him a chance.” She paced the room. “Well, fuck it. Sure, I can see some of the reasoning. I didn’t look that innocent. But still.”
Totally annoyed with herself, she decided she needed to go work. Bury her brain in details for a while so she didn’t have to think about Aiden. Or dinner.
She had a Ty-Op to catch, with the clock against her, and more crap in her way than a top-notch obstacle course.
She hadn’t said no to dinner with him, but she hadn’t said yes, either. She’d decide when she decided.
She called for Thai takeout and checked the status of the download. Her PDA signaled the end of its download at the same time Tarik buzzed to say her food had arrived. She took it as a good sign. Trotting down to get her food, she slammed to a stop when she found Aiden at the desk.
The universe is conspiring against me.
Or maybe that was just Aiden, Mr. Super-Secret Magic Man, using his gifts to his advantage.
He sniffed the air. “Thai. Nice.”
The driver grinned at them both, saluted in thanks for the tip she’d given, and hustled out the door on a burst of cold air. Cait shivered, but savored the spicy smell of the food.
“Lunch, finally,” she said. “You headed out?”
“Yeah, client meeting. I was supposed to be there this morning. Rescheduled of course. Long-term client getting their year-end dollars committed. Good for them, good for me.”
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