Cold Secrets (Cold Justice Book 7)

by Toni Anderson

  Brandon pushed the room service cart down the hallway to Room 815 and knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” came a voice from behind the door.

  “Room service.”

  A woman with short, dark hair opened the door. Not Jenny. The other agent? “I didn’t order anything. You’ve got the wrong room.” Her eyes went wide when she saw the barrel of his gun he’d hidden under a napkin on his arm.

  “Take a step back, and no one will get hurt,” he said quietly. “I’m looking for your friend.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly moved backwards away from the weapon. He pushed the cart inside and closed the door softly behind him.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  She collapsed onto the nearest chair, then lunged for the telephone. He grabbed her hand and pulled it off the handset, backhanding her lightly with the side of the pistol.

  She flopped sideways in the seat. He took the belt from a robe hanging in the closet and tied her hands behind her back.

  “What do you want?” Her eyes were full of fear.

  He touched her cheek. “I want to know where Ashley Chen is?”

  Fine lines appeared between the woman’s brows. “I have no idea who that is. I have money—”

  He slapped her across the face again, and she gave a high-pitched squeak as if too frightened to scream out loud.

  “I don’t need your money,” he spat. “I want to know where FBI Agent Ashley Chen is, and when she’ll be back.”

  “F-FBI?” Blood dripped from her nose. His handprint was a stark imprint on her skin. “I don’t know any FBI agents. I just arrived today. You must have the wrong room.”

  Her eyes were huge. Under normal circumstances he’d have found her attractive. He let her talk, let her ramble on with her inane denials. He had a description of Ashley Chen’s roommate and this woman fit it. Another fed bitch.

  He pulled a roll of duct-tape from his pocket and set it on the cabinet.

  “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you say. I won’t tell anyone you’re here. I’m pregnant.” She swallowed, and he heard her throat muscles working against one another as she struggled not to hyperventilate. He ripped off a piece of tape and slapped it over her mouth. Then he taped her legs to the chair. She was proving surprisingly docile for a law enforcement agent, but women were weak. All that feminist bullshit, and yet they were so inferior. He had dogs he respected more. He gripped her nose closed until her eyes started to bulge and even though she was tied, she tried to stand and get away. Five minutes too late.

  She lost consciousness, and he released her nose so she’d come around again.

  When her eyes opened, he pulled his knife from a sheath that nestled in the small of his back. “I don’t want to hurt you, lady. I just want to talk to your friend.”

  Her eyes bugged nervously as the blade came closer.

  She shook her head frantically and started to rock the chair. It tipped over and crashed to the floor. The combined weight of the chair and her body broke a bone in her arm.

  Her scream from behind the tape sent a shiver of something thrilling running up his spine.

  When she recovered enough to focus on him again, he winced in mock sympathy and removed the ties that bound her to the chair. Then he rolled her on her back and put his foot on her broken arm.

  Sweat stuck her hair to her forehead, and tears streamed from her eyes.

  He leaned closer. “Do you want me to do this all day?”

  She shook her head.

  He pulled the tape away from red swollen lips. “Where is she?”

  She swallowed convulsively and stared fearfully into his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  He sighed. After putting a fresh piece of tape across her lips, he dragged her across the floor by her broken arm. She passed out from the pain, but she’d recover. He tossed her on the bed. He could do this all day. The smell of food had his stomach rumbling, and he grabbed a plate off the cart and started eating, waiting for the bitch to wake up. The sooner she told him where Jenny was, the sooner her suffering would be over.

  It wasn’t rocket science. He didn’t know why it took people so long to figure this shit out.

  * * *

  Ashley had gone straight to the BAU from the airport and spent the day holed up in her cubicle avoiding as many people as possible. Her conscience was telling her to hell with her career—she needed to tell her boss what Ray Tan had said about the culprits being the Dragon Devils. These people needed to be captured and held accountable. If they took her down with them, so be it.

  She kept watch over Frazer’s door, but he hadn’t come in, and this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss over the phone. She hadn’t met her boss’s new girlfriend yet, but she’d heard the woman had just sold her property in the Outer Banks and was packing up her teenage sister and pet dog. She hoped they knew what they were getting into. Frazer was the most remote, difficult, ornery person she’d ever met, which was saying something, considering how ornery, remote and difficult she was.

  Her cell had remained sullenly silent all day. Lucas Randall’s lack of communication shouldn’t have unsettled her, but she couldn’t help wondering what he’d thought when he’d discovered she’d left without a word. Was he angry? Or maybe he didn’t care and was simply getting on with his day?

  It was irrelevant how he felt—it wouldn’t change anything—but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She’d ended up turning the cell off and stuffing it in a drawer to get rid of the constant distraction of the blank screen. The desire to call him, to explain, to say just exactly how much last night had meant to her…was dangerous. She didn’t want to endanger a man who could mean so much to her if she let him.

  Instead, she forced her attention back to her computer screen. She’d split her time today between sleazeball lawyer, Theo Giovanni, who was in court most of the day, and tracking down the contraceptive pills they’d found at the brothel. The lab had come back with a chemical match, and the pills were readily, if illegally, available online. She’d ordered some using a false identity the FBI provided. Now she needed to figure out where they were manufactured and where the pharmaceutical counterfeiters did their banking. Then, with a little help from the federal government and judicial system, she was going to freeze their assets.

  The good news was the pills themselves seemed to be generic copies of pharmaceutical brands, rather than poisonous concoctions off the factory floor. She figured this meant they planned to be in business long-term, which worked for her as it gave the feds time to make arrests.

  And the manufacturers might still be supplying pills to the sex traffickers, which was another lead, and another possible way of tracking down where the new brothels had relocated.

  She’d put a call in to the US Postal Service for their assistance and was expecting one of their agents to contact her.

  A headache was building, pressing against her temples and making her feel a little lightheaded. She took a sip from her water bottle and searched her drawer for pain meds. No dice. She picked up her cell and reflexively checked it. The screen was distressingly blank when she slipped it back into her pocket.

  She looked up and realized it was nighttime. She was the last person here. She stretched out a kink in her neck.

  There was no way she could wait any longer, and the idea of relating the information anonymously had lost its appeal. She’d go to Frazer’s home. He wouldn’t be pleased to see her, but he’d understand once she told him everything.

  He might have her arrested…

  The idea made acid boil in her stomach, but the task force needed to know who they were chasing to have any chance of catching them.

  As she stood to leave, Matt Lazlo strode into the room.

  His brows stretched. “Hey. How was Boston?”

  “Grim,” she admitted.

  “You okay? You look pale.”

  “I feel like I’m coming down with something.” A belated dose of guilt.
She took another sip of water to wash away the bilious feeling. “You forget something?”

  “Nah,” the former Navy SEAL shook his head. “I went to visit my mother”—who was comatose in a nearby facility—“and Frazer called and asked me to pick up a file and drop it off on my way home.”

  She frowned. Why hadn’t Frazer asked her to drop off the file? He knew she was back. Had Alex Parker also confided his suspicions to Frazer? Despite everything she’d sacrificed in order to serve her country?

  He knows you’re a liar, he just can’t prove it.

  Reality pricked a hole in her affront. Parker was right. She had lied to get into the FBI. She had faked her background and spent months training to beat the polygraph machine to be accepted into the program. Being angry with Alex Parker was like being angry with a cop who pulled you over for speeding. You had to accept responsibility for your actions. It was part of being a grown up.

  “How’s Scarlett?” she asked, trying to prolong her time as a team member.

  Scarlett Stone was Matt’s brilliant, slightly scatty physicist fiancée, and daughter of the most notorious spy in FBI history. That was until she and Matt had proved her father’s innocence and exposed the real traitor.

  Ashley’s spirit sank as she realized that, on paper at least, she’d be the traitor.

  “Busy. Between spending time with her dad and us moving into a new house.” Matt tossed a file on his desk and headed to Frazer’s office. She followed him.

  “I never thought I’d end up with a woman who chose appliances based on whether or not they can get hacked and who wants to install solar roof tiles.” He grinned, looking like a rugged version of Captain America. “Hey, we’re having a housewarming BBQ in a couple of weeks.”

  “BBQ? In February?”

  “It’s Scarlett’s dad’s idea. He wants a BBQ and is a bit worried he might not make it to summer.”

  God. The thought of going to jail made her want to throw up. What had she been thinking? “How’s he doing?”

  Matt shrugged. “Getting the best cancer treatment money can buy, but he’s very sick. They’re all just so frickin’ happy to be back together again. It’s like an episode of the Waltons.” His lips canted into the sort of smile that brought women to their knees. But all Ashley could think of was dark hair and espresso eyes, and the sort of kisses that should come with hazard-to-your-heart warnings.

  “You should come.”

  She snapped back to the moment. “I’d love to.” But the chances were she’d be out of here by then. Persona non grata. Kicked to the curb. Labeled a traitor. Denied access.

  A printout of a photograph lay on the floor beside Frazer’s printer. “Need this?” she asked, walking over and picking it up.

  Matt glanced at what she was holding while he flicked through files in the stack on the side of Frazer’s desk.

  “Don’t think so.”

  She looked down at the image she was holding. It was an old grainy photograph of Yu Chang and made all the saliva in her mouth evaporate.

  “They got a lead on the suspects in Boston.” His lips thinned. “You didn’t hear?”

  She shook her head. “I turned off my email and phone trying to get some work done.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” He smiled, and Ashley wished almost desperately that he was single and she’d fallen for this man, rather than a man she’d never see again.

  And Matt had forgiven Scarlett her deception, even though it paled in comparison to Ashley’s. Ashley opened her mouth to tell him the truth, quickly, before she lost her nerve.

  “An organization called the Dragon Devils,” he said as he ducked his head to concentrate on the files, missing her open-mouthed astonishment. “Some detective from Hong Kong came into the Boston Field Office and gave them a few leads. Parker managed to narrow down the area for the probable location of the perps to within a half block radius. Cops are staking out the area. I can’t believe no one told you. Parker said it was your idea.”

  “Alex Parker doesn’t like me very much,” she said glumly even as her mind spun with the implications.

  “Hey.” Matt slapped her on the shoulder. “It was a good idea, and he gave you full credit. I expect the messages of congratulations are in your inbox. Apartment is in Cambridge. Won’t be long until they catch the fugitives.”

  She blinked at him in sudden realization. She didn’t have to bare her soul to Frazer. She didn’t need to confess her sins. Her heart fluttered against her ribs with a renewed sense of hope.

  “I’d love to come to your BBQ.”

  “Gonna bring someone?” His blue eyes teased her.

  She drew in a deep breath, and the noose around her throat loosened. “Maybe.”

  She said goodnight, grabbed her stuff, and headed outside, desperately needing to be alone for a few moments to think. Winter dragged its icy claws over her skin, and the bleak wind dampened her mood. Or maybe it was just easier to blame her depression on the weather, rather than looking at the root cause of her unhappiness. She had no life outside work. Whenever she cared about anyone she needed to stay far away to keep them safe.

  How would that change if the Devils were arrested?

  She headed into the parking lot and strode toward her car. A bunch of NATs—New Agents in Training—trailed past on their way to the canteen.

  She remembered every minute of that sixteen-week training course. The brutal PT, the intense firearms training, the toughness of Defensive Tactics. But failing the grueling course hadn’t been the thing she’d feared most. Every time they’d called her name, every time they’d singled her out for censure or praise, she’d expected them to tell her to grab her stuff and that she was done. But they never had.

  Instead, she’d excelled, soaking it up, learning federal statutes and laws, defensive driving, situational awareness. Every class had been another weapon in her arsenal to fight back against the people who’d wanted to hurt her.

  A branch cracked in the nearby woods, and she jumped, her heart doing a drumroll in her chest. She forced herself to relax and not rest her hand on her weapon. Last thing she needed was to shoot some prankster or idiot marine.

  She got to her car, automatically checking the backseat. She dumped her bag and laptop on the passenger seat. Her luggage from her trip to Boston was still in the trunk.

  She drove off base, past the Marine guards. She stopped at a pizzeria where you could order by the slice and headed home to her two-bedroom condo ten miles south, eating as she drove.

  As she pulled up outside the home she hadn’t seen all week, every thought vanished from her mind.

  Lucas Randall stood leaning against a white van parked next to her space.

  Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream, and she had to force herself not to throw her arms around him and hang on tight.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as she got out. She hated how breathless she sounded. How hopelessly hooked.

  His stare was intense on her face. “I needed to see you.”

  “About the case?”

  Who cared about the case?

  “We have unfinished business.” His tone warned her that he was angry, as she’d known he would be. She just hadn’t expected him to follow her to Virginia.

  No matter how desperately she wanted to kiss the guy, she had to force him away. Her uncle would destroy anything she cared about.

  “I’m sorry you had a wasted trip, Lucas. I thought you understood that what happened last night was temporary. A way of blowing off steam during a difficult case.” She glanced up at him quickly. The look in his eyes was almost feral.

  “Well, we certainly blew off steam.” His smile had jagged edges. She went as if to slide past, but he pulled her against him. And she hated how willingly she let him.

  Had she forgotten what happened to Martel? Was she so eager to sacrifice someone else she cared about for a fleeting moment of pleasure?

  Lucas turned them so he was the one leaning against her car d
oor, holding her tight. She gripped him, for balance and because she wasn’t ready to let him go. Then he kissed her.

  It was a hard kiss, a punishing kiss, and she let him control it because she deserved a little harshness after what she’d done to him. She wanted that slight taste of punishment for lying to him. The van door slid open behind her, and she tried to twist around to see if someone needed to get by.

  Lucas raised his head, and she expected him to move them aside, but instead he held her imprisoned in his arms while someone stuffed a gag in her mouth and pulled a hood over her head.

  Panic engulfed her. She started fighting, but it was too late. She couldn’t breathe. Someone captured her wrists, which were jerked behind her back and secured tightly with metal handcuffs.

  She raised her knee, but it deflected off a less vulnerable part of his body. Then she was lifted and shoved into the vehicle, her legs bound as her arms had been, and she was lying on the hard metal floor, panting through her nose, trying not to hyperventilate. Someone patted her down and removed her cell phone, her weapon, and her backup.

  Lucas?

  Oh, God.

  What was happening? Had she been right in her initial suspicion? Was Lucas working with the Dragon Devils?

  Everyone had a price—even rich people.

  She tried to cry out for help, but the door slammed shut on her muffled screams. The engine started. Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She hadn’t cried since she was a sixteen-year-old girl watching her uncle kill a young man she’d thought she’d fallen in love with.

  A heavy hand pushed her onto the floor and held her still. “Easy.”

  Lucas.

  A sob reared up.

  She’d been kidnapped, and Lucas Randall had helped do it. Panic rushed through her, and she lashed out with her whole body. She couldn’t go back to her uncle. She wouldn’t go back to the monster. She jerked away from whoever was holding her and whacked her head on the side of the van.

  Goddamn!