by Janie Crouch
He tilted her face from where it rested on his shoulder and kissed her. Gently. Tenderly. His passion was there, just below the surface, but he kept it under tight rein—his passion was not the emotion he wanted her to pick up on. She didn’t need that.
“Yes, but not tonight. You face them on your time, when you’re ready. Not a minute before.”
She sighed sinking back into him, nodding. Brandon wrapped his arms more tightly around her, wanting to keep her safe from anything that would ever cause her harm.
Chapter Seven
Andrea woke up with a start, eyes flying open. It was dark. She always slept with a light on, mostly because she didn’t want to wake up like this: panicked, braced for violence. She didn’t move, but held her body tense, ready to shoot off in whichever direction would get her to safety.
Slowly realization dawned. There was no danger here. The opposite, in fact. She was lying on top of the bedcover, wrapped in Brandon Han’s arms.
They’d shifted a little in their sleep; he pulled her more closely to him so that she was draped nearly all down his side. Her leg was even hooked over his thighs.
Like lovers.
The thought of Brandon as her lover sent little explosions of passion barreling up and down her spine. She could think of nothing she wanted more.
She’d told him about her home situation. About not finishing school. About not having the education or background to really be a part of the Omega team. None of it had seemed to matter to him.
Of course, she hadn’t mentioned she’d also been a stripper for a period of eighteen months—the worst eighteen months of her life. Some of those girls had thrived on being onstage, being the center of attention, driving men wild. For Andrea it had been an exercise in agony every time.
It was a part of her life she’d just as soon forget. And she couldn’t think of a reason why she would need to tell Brandon, or anybody at Omega, about it.
She wanted to stay here in his arms, to sleep with him, to wake up with him and kiss him in the way she’d dreamed of. And much more than that.
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see his chiseled features illuminated by the cloudy moonlight floating through the window. Black hair, prominent cheekbones, soft lips relaxed in sleep.
Despite his earlier, gentle kiss and the fact that he held her in his arms even now, Andrea didn’t think Brandon was interested in her sexually. He was a colleague, perhaps could even be a friend. His emotions last night had radiated concern and sympathy for her, and even anger directed at her past.
Not passion.
Andrea eased her way back from him slowly. She should leave now. There was no need to have an awkward morning-after when they hadn’t really had the fun part of the night before.
She worked herself away from him and out of the bed without waking him. She grabbed the shoes she’d taken off and her blazer from the chair. With one last look at his sleeping form, she slipped out the door.
* * *
A FEW HOURS LATER, in the hotel’s dining room, Brandon slid into the chair across from Andrea. It didn’t take any special reading ability for her to see he was pretty irritated.
“You snuck out in the middle of the night,” he said as he added a creamer packet to his paper coffee cup.
Andrea would’ve thought he’d be relieved, not mad.
“Yeah, I woke up and thought it would be better if I went to my own room.”
He tilted his head to the side and studied her.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m surprised you were able to get out without me waking up.”
She shrugged. “I’m good at moving very quietly.” A skill she’d picked up when not waking her drunk uncle had been a priority.
He still didn’t stop staring at her. It was making her uneasy.
“Did you sleep okay?” he finally said. “Yesterday evening was a pretty rough one for you.”
Her discomfiture came rushing back. She never should have told him all that stuff about herself. Sure, last night he’d been supportive, but this morning... Maybe this morning he realized what a fraud she really was.
He reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it just short of being painful. “Hey, whatever is going on in that mind of yours right now, stop.”
“But—”
Now his eyes were mad. “I mean it. The only one thinking bad things about you at this table is you. So stop.”
“Okay.” She took a breath. He was right. She needed to learn to stop her self-sabotaging thoughts.
“So I’ll ask you again—did you sleep okay?”
Did he mean before she left his room or afterward? She had slept amazingly in his bed. In his arms. But she probably shouldn’t announce that, since he might think she was trying to get an invitation to do it again. Once she’d gotten back to her room the bed had seemed too big, too empty. She’d slept, mostly from the sheer exhaustion of having stayed up nearly all night on Monday studying the case files, but not nearly as well.
“I slept fine. Thanks.” Seemed like the safest answer.
She had gotten up a little early to make sure she had time to do her hair and makeup perfectly. She was wearing the suit she knew she looked most professional in. After what had happened yesterday, Andrea had felt the need to show she was as competent and proficient as possible. To Brandon and herself.
“So what’s our agenda for the day?” she asked briskly.
Brandon’s eyebrow rose at the question. Andrea knew she was probably being a little too sharp, but she had to find a way to get them back on neutral footing.
Thankfully Brandon took her cue.
He sat up straighter. “We need to talk to the rest of victim number two’s coworkers at the diner. See if any of them remember Ashley talking to someone in particular, not only that night, but the nights leading up to her murder. Find out if she had any regulars. That might be more difficult since none of them want to admit they’re turning tricks on the side.”
“It’s probably not a regular who killed her since—”
Her sentence was cut off when both of their phones started vibrating.
“Damn it,” Brandon muttered, looking down at the email message that had popped up on his phone. “Maricopa Sheriff’s Department found another body. Another girl has been murdered.”
They were in the car and headed toward the crime scene five minutes later. Brandon called and updated Omega as they drove, promising to give more details as they became available. They didn’t have far to drive. The body had been found just on the outskirts of Buckeye, again in front of another church.
Andrea glanced at Brandon. “Just so you know, I don’t do crime scenes very often. My talents are with witnesses.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I guess dead bodies don’t give off many nonverbal cues for you to read.”
“Honestly, I haven’t really been around any.” This was just another example of how untrained she was.
“Hey, a lot of agents try to get out of crime scenes—especially those with a dead body—any way they can. You know Liam Goetz, right?”
Andrea had worked with him and his pregnant soon-to-be wife, Vanessa, on a human-trafficking case a few months ago. He was head of Omega’s hostage-rescue team—and had proved his skills rescuing a group of young girls who had been kidnapped and were about to be sold into sexual slavery.
“Yeah, I know Liam.” She didn’t know him well, but liked the big, muscular man and how caring he was with petite Vanessa, who was now huge with the twins she was carrying.
“He’ll be the first to tell you that he doesn’t mind putting bad guys in body bags—that man loves his guns—but he will keel over every time he’s in a coroner’s exam room or there’s a body at a crime scene he has to attend.”
Andrea laughed just a little at the thought of it.
“Yeah, go head, laugh,” Brandon continued, smiling. “You’re not the one who has to drag two hundred pounds of pure muscle over to the side to get him out of the way. We’ve started requesting he not attend any situation where there’s a body being examined.”
“So I guess you’re telling me it’s okay if I don’t go into the crime scene with you.”
“That’s up to you. All I’m saying is that there are Omega agents who choose not to. We don’t think any less of them for it.”
Andrea did appreciate Brandon trying to put her at ease.
The parking lot of the church where the body had been discarded was completely blocked off by police—both Maricopa County and City of Phoenix officers. There was a buzz of excitement in the air.
With a fourth victim, no one could deny this was a serial killer, not that Andrea had any doubts before.
Brandon immediately walked over, showing his Omega credentials, and began speaking with the coroner. Lance Kendrick and Gerardo Jennison were here also, talking to each other and Brandon.
Andrea hung back. She didn’t want to do something stupid like pass out from being too close to the body. Although the thought that Liam Goetz did so made her smile.
Andrea could still see where the dead woman lay from where she stood. Like the others, she was covered with a sheer white fabric and a lily had been placed in her hands. Andrea couldn’t tell, but she would guess the woman had been strangled like the others.
Officers were moving all around her, canvassing the area for any clues that might have been left on the ground. Another two were attempting to get fingerprints from nearby surfaces.
When he saw her, Kendrick excused himself from Brandon and Jennison and walked over to her, purpose in his eyes. He’d remembered her; she had no doubt about it. She wanted to run, but knew it was no use.
“You’re Andrea Gordon, Margaret and Marlon’s kid.”
His expression wasn’t hostile or even condescending. If anything, it was sympathetic.
“Actually, they’re my aunt and uncle, but yeah, my guardians.”
“You looked so familiar, but it was so vague I thought it was a case, like you’d suggested.”
Andrea shrugged.
“You look a lot different than your mug shot,” Kendrick continued.
Andrea clenched her teeth. Was this it? The end of her career? Would Kendrick tell Brandon? Could someone with a criminal record even work for Omega?
“Once I saw that picture I knew where else I’d seen you. Coming in with your mom—well, I guess your aunt—to pick your uncle up after he’d been thrown in holding when he was too drunk to find his way home. Must have happened a dozen times.”
Andrea shrugged again, turning away slightly.
“Uncle was a mean drunk, if memory serves. Maybe those nights we threw him in holding we were doing you a favor, I’m thinking now.”
They’d been a much better night’s sleep, that was for sure, but Andrea didn’t say anything.
“There were a lot of screwups where you were concerned, Ms. Gordon. I’d like to offer Maricopa County’s apologies, my personal apologies, for that.”
Andrea turned back to Kendrick, surprised.
He looked at her solemnly. “Sometimes you can’t see the full picture, except in hindsight. The system failed you. But you seem to have done all right for yourself.” He gestured at her outfit.
“You mean despite having a record?”
Kendrick smiled at that although there was still a lingering sadness in his eyes. “You don’t have a record, Andrea. You got brought in for underage drinking, but were never formally charged. I think the arresting officer just did it to scare you into going straight.”
“It worked. I still can hardly drink anything without feeling some panic.”
The officer smiled. “Well, there’s no official record of your arrest, outside our storage room. So you don’t have to worry about that. I’m just sorry no one ever looked further into your situation earlier, before you ran away.”
His regret was so authentic it was almost painful.
“Like you said, I did okay for myself. I have a good job where I make a difference.”
“And you’re very well respected, if Agent Han is anything to go by.”
Andrea looked over at Brandon to find him gazing at her, concern in his eyes. She smiled at him to offer reassurance.
Lance Kendrick made his apologies once again and expressed his happiness to be working with her. Then he left to go deal with things pertaining to the dead woman. Not long after, Brandon made his way over to her, the notebook where he wrote everything down open to details about the case.
“Everything okay? I saw Kendrick over here.”
“Yeah, he remembered me. He’s a good cop. A little rough around the edges, but he cares.”
Brandon nodded. “I got the info about the victim. Twenty-two years old, from here in Buckeye.” He flipped a page in his notebook. “Her name is Jillian Spires and she’s another stripper. Worked at a club called Jaguar’s.”
Chapter Eight
Andrea had wisely hung back as Brandon had examined the body with the coroner. As he’d told her, there was no need for her to get close unless she wanted to. If she wanted to get more thorough in investigating, he could ease her into that later when they were back at Omega in controlled circumstances. It didn’t need to be while she was standing around a group of people she didn’t know.
Or maybe one she did. Brandon saw Lance Kendrick come up to Andrea and had kept an eye on them as they conversed. Now that Brandon knew more about Andrea’s past, what she’d survived, he found himself much more protective of her. The warrior was protective of her, as was the intellectual man.
Not even to mention how angry both were when he awoke to find her gone. It had been all he could do not to storm down to where she was and demand her return to his room.
To his bed.
But he’d gotten control of himself. An icy shower had helped. By the time he’d made it to breakfast he’d been able to be civil. He’d gotten the warrior tamped down, buried.
But he hadn’t been able to stop himself from keeping a close eye on her all morning.
Andrea’s conversation with Kendrick had been civil. Whatever the older man had to say, she hadn’t been upset by it.
Or so he had thought. Because when he came over to give Andrea the details about the dead girl, all the color had drained from her face. The police had told him the dead woman had a local address, and she was close to Andrea’s age. Maybe Andrea had known the woman personally.
“Hey, are you okay?” He stepped closer and cupped her elbow, moving her so she was blocked from the eyes of the other cops. “You look shaky. Did you know Jillian Spires?”
Andrea closed her eyes briefly. “No. I didn’t know her. She must have moved here after I left.”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed. Her statement was odd. Wouldn’t you automatically assume you just hadn’t run in the same circles? Buckeye was a small town, but not that small. There would certainly be people you didn’t know. Why would Andrea assume Jillian had arrived after she’d left?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.
She shrugged. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just— These women are my age. Some of them younger. They may not have a lot of family, but they don’t deserve to die like this.”
Brandon agreed although he was sure that wasn’t the entire situation going on inside Andrea’s head.
“Maybe this one will have family. Kendrick will do a more thorough check as soon as they get back to the office.”
“So what’s our next step?”
“We have a home address and a work address for the club, Jaguar’s, where she worked.
I figure we should probably start with the home. See if we get any known associates from there.”
Her nod was just a little too exuberant. “Yeah, her home is probably our best bet.”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed slightly once again. There was something off in Andrea’s behavior. She was hiding something. He almost started questioning her about it, but then stopped himself.
It could be about what had happened between them last night. Or about being back in this town that held so many painful memories. Or about being at her first homicide crime scene.
There were a lot of reasons Andrea could be a little off. He’d cut her some slack.
“The locals will also be there processing the scene at her home, so it’ll be crowded. But we’ll see what we can find. Besides, I would imagine her place of employment isn’t open at ten thirty on a Thursday morning.”
She didn’t say anything, just turned toward the car with him. The ride across town to Jillian’s apartment was mostly in silence, also. Generally Brandon didn’t mind silence. He preferred it to someone filling the car with inane chatter. But he couldn’t help but feel as though Andrea was not talking in order to deliberately withhold information.
Privacy was her way, ingrained over the past few years of having to keep totally to herself. Just because he knew about her abusive past didn’t mean she was automatically going to start sharing every thought that came through her mind. Which was fine.
Except there was something else going on, he knew it.
They worked through lunch, examining Jillian’s apartment. She hadn’t been a neat freak, for sure, which made going through her personal belongings more time-consuming. They did find two glasses on the cardboard box that doubled as a coffee table, one rimmed with lipstick, one without. That meant someone besides Jillian had been in here relatively recently. The locals would run prints.
If anything, Andrea got more quiet as they looked through the girl’s apartment. Brandon knew this wasn’t her area of expertise—objects rather than people—so he didn’t really try to draw her into the investigation. She looked around, staying out of the crime-scene team’s way. Brandon did similarly.
