Signed, Sealed, Fatal, I'm Yours

by Lucy Quinn

  Still, even if she wasn’t ready to take that next step, there was nothing wrong with making out for a bit, was there? Maybe they’d curl up by the fire in the living room, just the two of them with some hot chocolate and a blanket to share. Especially if her mom and Scarlett were both occupied out of the house somewhere.

  But as the inn came into view, Cookie’s romantic plans quickly evaporated. Right there in the circular driveway was a familiar black Mustang. Then she spotted the tall, dark figure standing on the front porch waiting for them, arms crossed, a fierce scowl on his handsome face. Great. What was Hunter doing there?

  Beside her, she felt Dylan stiffen and knew he’d spotted their visitor as well. “I take it you didn’t know he was coming?” he asked softly. The laughter was gone from his voice, but at least his tone hadn’t turned hard and clipped. Yet.

  “No,” Cookie answered honestly. “I haven’t heard from him since he left town right before Christmas.” He’d disappeared the night of the holiday revue, sending only a text that said he’d been called back to Philly. That had been right after he’d urged her to return to Philly, move in with him, and take up her old job at the Bureau.

  Over three weeks had gone by with no word from her former partner who’d been ready to share his life with her. She hadn’t even told him she’d chosen Dylan. And now here he was, glaring at them both as they approached.

  “I guess I should get going,” Dylan offered, slowing to a stop and, since he hadn’t released Cookie’s hand yet, forcing her to stop as well. He reached out with his free hand, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her in toward him, his arm tightening around her as he leaned in for a kiss. And this wasn’t a little good-bye peck, either. It was a long, deep, passionate kiss, just like the one they’d shared on Christmas Day after Cookie made it clear she’d chosen him.

  Clearly his public display of affection meant he wanted to remind her about that decision.

  When he pulled away, Dylan treated her to a sexy little half-smile. “Just something to keep you warm until I see you again.” He jerked his head at the figure on the porch, something between a greeting and a mere acknowledgement of his presence. “Don’t let him give you any trouble.” Then Dylan backed away, turned on his heel, and marched back down the hill and out of sight.

  Cookie watched him go for a second, her lips still tingling, then she shifted her gaze to the man on the porch. “Hello, Hunter,” she called out as she resumed her approach.

  “Cookie.” His response came through gritted teeth, his voice low and dark. He didn’t say anything else until she was climbing the steps. Then he suddenly blurted out, “I’ve got a new partner now.” His gaze darkened as he added, “Looks like I’m not the only one.”

  His tone made her bristle, and she met his glare with one of her own. “Yes, I do,” she agreed heatedly, hands on her hips. “And if you really want to know, it turned out to be a pretty easy decision, especially since you—”

  But her former partner and almost-lover cut her off with a raised hand. “That’s not why I’m here,” he informed her, his icy tone making it abundantly clear that he didn’t care to hear her explanation.

  “Oh no? Then why are you back here after almost a month without a word?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  The look he gave her was like that of a teacher forced to explain something yet again to an earnest but simple student. “The murder, obviously,” he stated, the words dripping with condescension. “Why else do I ever come back to this little flyspeck of a town?”

  “Well, you could’ve saved yourself the trip,” Cookie shot back. “Because I sure as hell didn’t call you.” She heard the creak of the front door opening, but didn’t glance away from the maddening man in front of her to see who it was.

  “Of course not,” Hunter retorted, his own words just as heated. “Since when do you ever ask for help, even if you desperately need it?”

  “I can handle this just fine, Hunter!” Cookie shouted at him. “Nobody asked you to come.”

  But then a clear, slightly taut voice cut through their argument. “Actually, I did.”

  Both of them turned to stare at Scarlett, who stood there wringing her hands and looking uncharacteristically nervous. Her blond hair was piled on her head in a haphazard bun and despite the fact she wore frayed jeans and a faded gray T-shirt, she still looked like she’d just walked off the pages of a magazine.

  “What?” Cookie managed to get out finally. “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to go digging into this alone. Jared said the man was likely poisoned. That’s not just some accident, and I’m worried about you. Anything could happen,” her best friend answered, only meeting Cookie’s eyes for a second before looking away. “Face it, CJ, Hunter’s right—you don’t like to ask for help. And I’ve already seen you get hurt handling what started out sounding like minor little cases out here. I wasn’t about to let that happen again.” She sighed. “It’s not like I’m trained to assist on a murder case, and we both know your mom’s as much a hindrance as a help. So I called Hunter and told him what was going on.”

  “And here I am,” Hunter said. “So you can go running back to your local boy now and let the professionals handle this.”

  Cookie straightened. “Excuse me?” she barked. “Did you forget that I was an agent, too? Or that half our busts were thanks to me?”

  “I didn’t forget, but you’re not an agent anymore,” Hunter reminded her, his tone once again as frigid as his gaze. “You walked away, remember?”

  “To protect myself and my mother,” Cookie shot back. “Oh, but I know you figured it had to be about you, because everything always is, right? Well, get over it.” She pulled out her badge and waved it in his face, close enough that he had to lean back. “I’m an authorized deputy, and this is my case.”

  “I’m a federal agent, and I say it’s mine,” he replied, extracting his ID and badge and shoving them right back at her. “And I’m not working it with you. Not this time, Charlie.”

  “Fine, then I’ll work it myself, just like I’ve been doing,” Cookie told him, her rage threatening to erupt like a volcano. “And you can work it yourself. We’ll see who solves it first.”

  “Fine,” Hunter agreed. He shot one final glare her way before turning and storming back inside.

  Which left Cookie standing there fuming and Scarlett biting her lip.

  “Wow,” her best friend muttered finally. “That went to crap fast, huh?”

  Cookie just shook her head. She knew Scarlett had meant well, but right now she really wasn’t prepared to talk about it. So much for her relaxing afternoon on the water. All the tension she’d shed was back tenfold. The thought of heading back into the inn, where she’d no doubt be forced to see Hunter, made her gut clench. So without another word she turned, and just as Dylan had done moments ago, marched back down the hill and headed for town.

  8

  Cookie spent most of the rest of the day roaming Secret Seal Isle. It was less to pursue the case than to just stay away from the inn and any chance of running into Hunter. But as her stomach started to rumble, she forced herself back home. Rain would be expecting her to be there, and who knew what her mother would do if Cookie didn’t return. Besides, the inn was her home, not Hunter’s, and she wasn’t about to let him drive her out of it.

  Dinner was a subdued affair, which was never the case in their house. From her earliest memories, Cookie knew dinner as a lively, laughter-filled time, infused with her mother’s off-color remarks, silly jokes, and crazy notions. As a child, she’d watched in awe, spellbound by her mother’s energy and enthusiasm for life. As a teen, she’d been embarrassed at how her maternal parent had more courage than she did. As a young adult, she’d rolled her eyes at her mother’s hijinks. And then, as a grown woman in her own right, she’d finally started to trade stories instead of just listening to them, laughing along with Rain instead of at her.

  So to sit quietly and not say a
word or hear anything other than “please pass the salt” was killing her.

  She could see that it was driving Rain nuts as well. Her mother kept opening and closing her mouth, clearly not sure what to say to cut through the thick tension hanging in the air. Rain finally resorted to shooting daggers at Hunter with her eyes. But he was in full stone-face mode and ignoring her passive-aggressive attempt to shame him into an apology.

  Scarlett, meanwhile, kept her eyes glued to her plate, guilt practically streaming off her in waves.

  As soon as the meal had ended, Cookie returned to her room, where she curled up under her blankets and fell asleep, hoping Hunter’s arrival would prove to be a horrible, horrible dream.

  The next morning, Cookie woke up to the sound of the third floor’s other bedroom door closing, and then heavy footsteps descended the stairs. No doubt the footsteps belonged to Hunter, and he was heading out on his customary morning run. So much for the dream theory.

  Although she was usually a late riser, Cookie leaped out of bed as soon as she heard the front door open and shut. She raced through a shower, threw on some clothes, and practically ran downstairs. Rain and Scarlett were sitting at the dining room table, and both of them squawked in surprise as Cookie jumped the last few steps and barreled into the room.

  “Holy hell, sweetie!” Rain yelled. “You scared ten years off me.” Then she quickly turned to Scarlett. “Do I look ten years younger? Because if so, that was totally worth it.”

  Scarlett chuckled. “Sure, Rain. Why not?”

  Cookie’s mother preened as if Scarlett had just paid her a lavish compliment.

  Turning to Cookie, Scarlett glanced at the clock and in a teasing tone said, “It’s well before noon, CJ. Are you feeling okay? You’re never up this early.”

  “Funny,” Cookie replied, catching her breath before sliding into a seat. “I just wanted to make sure I was fed and out the door before the Grinch comes back from his run.”

  “I am so sorry, CJ,” Scarlett said, reaching to grab Cookie’s hand. “I know you’re super pissed at me, and you’ve got a right to be. I knew you’d picked Dylan, but I thought you and Hunter were still friends and partners. I just didn’t realize you hadn’t spoken to him yet.”

  Cookie shook her head and squeezed her best friend’s hand in response. “Not your fault,” she promised, though it had taken most of yesterday for her to calm down and come to terms with Scarlett’s meddling. “I should’ve told you we hadn’t spoken.” Then she frowned. “Hell, I should’ve made more of an effort to get in touch with him. But since he hadn’t called…”

  The truth was, since she hadn’t heard from him, she’d decided he hadn’t been as serious about her as he’d indicated. And if she were honest, even though she’d chosen Dylan, Hunter’s inaction had hurt. That wasn’t the way someone behaved when they wanted to share their life with you. At least not anyone she wanted to be with.

  She shrugged. “I honestly had no idea he’d be this hostile the next time he showed up.” Though, perhaps she should have expected it. Hunter was the possessive and jealous sort and the kind to hold a grudge. Add all of those up together, along with her picking Dylan over him, and you had all the ingredients for him to hate her forever. She just hoped that wouldn’t turn out to be the case, because even though she’d decided that Dylan was the man she wanted, Hunter was still her friend and former partner. She didn’t want to have to cut him out of her life entirely, or have him cut her out of his.

  “All right, so what’s the plan?” Scarlett asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. Now that Cookie had accepted her apology, she’d morphed back into her usual confident self.

  Cookie frowned. She hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.

  “Easy-peasy,” Cookie’s mother declared, rising to her feet. “Instead of letting Hunter try to push Cookie around, we beat him to the punch and solve Fleet’s murder first. Prove she doesn’t need his bossy butt to do the job right.” She puffed up her chest and strutted around the table, looking like the world’s fiercest bantam ready to fight for his territory.

  Cookie automatically started to veto her mother’s plan, just out of sheer habit, but found she couldn’t—because for once, she actually agreed with her. “It’d serve him right,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. “And once the case is solved, he’ll have no reason left to stay.” She glanced at her mother and her best friend. “All right, let’s do this.”

  The three of them nodded to each other.

  “I’ll be right back,” Rain said, pushing her chair back and getting to her feet. “This calls for a plan, and it just so happens, my new Abs of the Tropics planner just arrived yesterday.” She pumped her eyebrows. “If we’re going to work, we might as well do it with eye-candy, am I right?”

  Scarlett chuckled and Cookie rolled her eyes while Rain ran upstairs to her bedroom.

  Cookie was just about to start brainstorming their next move when she heard what sounded like a car pulling up outside. That was odd. Hunter was still out running, it was too early for Dylan to even think about waking her, and they weren’t expecting any guests or deliveries. Still, Rain could’ve ordered something.

  Cookie was getting to her feet when Scarlett glanced out the window. “Hey!” she shouted, leaping up and making for the back door. “Leave those alone!”

  Peering through the window, Cookie spotted three men alongside the inn. One of them was reaching for something along the side wall. She frowned. The only thing out there was the collection of old glass buoys and the newer foam version Rain had recently strung from a length of thick fishing net above the wraparound porch.

  That didn’t make any sense. Why would anyone try to steal those? They were a dime a dozen around the island. She was still standing there trying to process what was going on when Scarlett bolted out the door.

  “Scar, wait!” Cookie shouted, finally jumping to her feet and taking off after her best friend. She ran outside, not bothering with a coat, and the cold January air struck her like a wall, freezing her in her tracks and stealing the air from her lungs. When she sucked in a new breath, the icy air felt like needles invading her from the inside out.

  Scarlett had taken off around the side of the house, and Cookie stomped down the porch steps and went after her. She was just in time to see her tall, slender friend launch herself at one of the men, who had already grabbed a black and yellow lobster buoy from the fishing net. “Give that back!” Scarlett shouted, tackling the lanky guy. The thief wasn’t much bigger than she was, and clearly hadn’t expected any opposition, because he toppled to the ground with Scarlett right on top of him. She ripped the lobster buoy from his hands while he was still in shock from the fall, and tossed it behind her.

  The buoy wound up flying straight at Cookie like a small missile—or a really big, clumsy bee—and she caught it reflexively, slowing her effort to charge to her friend’s aid.

  Which was why when the thief finally rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Scarlett’s waist, Cookie was still too far away to pull her free.

  “Hey!” Scarlett yelped, banging on his arms. The man’s knitted cap flew off in the struggle, and Cookie gasped, noting his bright orange hair. Was he the man Stone had seen with Fleet?

  Cookie surged forward to help her friend, but Carrottop had Scarlett in a tight embrace and literally lifted her off her feet, dragging her with him as he retreated at a quick trot. “Get the buoy!” he shouted, and his two helpers charged Cookie, arms outstretched.

  “Hang on, Scar!” Cookie shouted as she shifted the buoy to her left hand and reached her right one toward the small of her back. Then she cursed.

  As an active FBI agent before moving to Secret Seal Isle, she’d always carried her gun. And when they’d fled Philly to avoid the threat of an angry Mob boss she’d put away, she’d continued to carry. But over the last few months she’d started to relax that armed stance. It just hadn’t seemed as necessary on the qui
et island. But in that moment she cursed that decision.

  “Damn it!” She backpedaled a step as the first man reached her, then kicked him in the shin and clubbed him across the back of the neck with the buoy. He stumbled and face-planted on the frozen grass, but the buoy was too lightweight to do any real damage. Cursing, he pushed himself back up. But before he could get to his feet, Cookie landed a solid heel-kick to the back of the head, knocking him out cold.

  The second guy, who had paused when he saw how easily Cookie had taken down his friend, took a few steps back. She moved toward him, ready to engage, and gave him her most wicked grin. “Care to try your luck?” she asked, settling into her stance.

  He started to reply, confusion and rage warring on his angular, sharply-planed face when Carrottop cut in.

  “Leave her and grab him!” the redheaded man shouted, and his flunkie did as instructed, darting to his fallen friend and tossing him over his shoulder before Cookie could get close enough to stop him. The flunky hauled his friend back to the idling pickup, where Carrottop was busy stuffing Scarlett into the passenger cab.

  “Stop!” Cookie took off after them, her heart clogged in her throat.

  But she was too far away. The flunky tossed the third man into the bed of the truck and dove in after him as Carrottop hopped into the driver’s seat. A second later, the truck screeched and took off, leaving Cookie to stumble to a stop, shielding herself from a spray of dirty snow and gravel as she watched the pickup roar down the hill.

  With her best friend trapped inside it.

  9

  Cookie stood frozen in the driveway, just staring at the tiny speck that was the pickup truck racing quickly out of sight. The shock of seeing her best friend abducted and knowing she didn’t stop it had momentarily rendered her useless.