by Melissa Fox
“Yes, well… I guess I’m sorry, too.” She stared suspiciously at the hand he held out before doing the same, jerking when his fingers wrapped around hers, warm, strong, and encompassing. He stared at their joined hands for a second before looking back up at her.
“If I think of anything that can help with your investigation, I’ll let you know. I’m just as interested as you in finding out who killed the Salvatores.”
“I appreciate your assistance, Inspector.” She waited a beat, but he continued to hold her hand. “Thank you.”
Her gaze flickered down to where he still clasped her hand, and he suddenly let go, rubbing his fingertips on his thigh as if to settle a tickle in his palm. She recognized the gesture, because she did it, too. He noticed at the same time, and they laughed awkwardly.
“Well, I should be…” Emma gestured down the hall, but she didn’t move, just stood and stared. She shouldn’t stare. She should get back to her office. He shouldn’t fascinate her, but he did. Damn him and those pretty blue eyes.
“Yeah.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck and grimaced a smile. Emma read the conflict on his face but refused to acknowledge the sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to resist if he even hinted he experienced the same attraction she did, so she refused to consider the possibility. At least, not until later, when he wasn’t standing in front of her. “Anyway, Special Agent. Like I said, if you need anything else from me, let me know.”
Proud of the noncommittal smile she forced across her lips and the strength of her voice, she gave nothing away. “I will. Thank you again, Inspector.”
Ash stood in the middle of the hall as she walked away from him, giving her time to get on the elevator and up to her floor before he even went near the lift. No way he’d take a chance on running into her again, especially in such a small, semi-private space. He shouldn’t have approached her in the first place—he should have stayed in the conference room until she was safely ensconced in her office. Pete’s words came back to him, and while he didn’t give them credence, he couldn’t deny the fact he’d pretty much accosted Special Agent Justice in the hallway.
He also couldn’t deny she was a beautiful woman. The snug, conservative suit hugged curves that made her taut body lethal and showcased downright amazing legs. The combination of feminine and sexy while still being professional and competent heated his blood, as did her quick, shrewd mind and striking green eyes. She liked looking at him—he recognized feminine appreciation when he saw it—but she didn’t like his attitude. Fair enough, because he didn’t like his attitude much, either. His demeanor had become a familiar, safe wall to hide behind.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor, and he turned to find Pete walking toward him balancing a stack of files and his laptop.
“Come up to my office.” Pete didn’t comment on catching Ash in the middle of the hallway staring down its length. “We can chat about what your Special Agent Justice didn’t tell you.”
“She’s not my anything,” he muttered and followed Pete toward the elevators he’d been avoiding.
He entered the squad room behind Pete and ran into Andy along the way. Ash slowed for Andy’s uneven gait, tamping down his usual flash of guilt and remorse. At least he still had a chance to recover and get back out in the field someday, unlike his friend. Ash’s injuries had been severe, but nowhere near as permanent as Andy’s. Or Daniel’s. Or Liz’s.
“How’s the leg?” Despite his best effort to hold Andy’s gaze, his eyes dropped to the pant leg that hid the prosthetic from view.
“Good as always.” Andy clapped him on the back and let his hand rest on Ash’s shoulder. “Lisa wants to have you over for dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
Andy’s fingers tensed briefly over the material of Ash’s shirt. “She invited Maggie. Told her to bring Abby.”
Vertigo, swift and disorienting, scrambled his guts. Andy he could face. Had to, working in the same office very day, recovering from devastating injuries together. Lisa had put her nursing degree to the test, browbeating them both through convalescence and months of rehabilitation. They had been his closest friends since childhood. Nothing could separate the three of them—four after Daniel came along—except for the bomb that had taken Daniel’s life and Andy’s leg. And Liz.
Oh, Lizzie. So sorry.
But…Maggie. Daniel’s widow. His infant daughter, Abigail, Ash’s godchild. No way could he sit across the table from Maggie’s haunted eyes, her drawn cheeks. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Yeah, okay,” he gritted, eyes stinging. He’d come up with some excuse not to be there, but agreeing would get him off the hook for now. “Let me know.”
Andy’s narrowed gaze proved Ash hadn’t fooled his best friend at all, but Andy let the subject drop. “Heard you were interviewed by the American agent. What’d she want? They don’t think you were involved in the murders, do they?”
“Think she was testing me, trying to see my reaction. Fishing a little.”
He glanced up when Pete gestured impatiently from his door, summoning them both into his office. Ash waited until Andy sat and then took the chair next to him.
“Special Agent Justice has been UC working the Salvatores on both sides of the border. Right after Rico was killed, she overheard Gina talking with Leonard Moore—Slick—and Tommy Bianchi.”
Ash nodded. Tommy had been part of Rico’s intimate circle.
“They were discussing Rico’s death—who they thought might have had a part in it.” Pete focused on Ash. “They thought maybe you.”
“Me?” He shouldn’t be surprised. His name was likely at the top of a lot of lists where the murder of Rico Salvatore was concerned.
“Yeah. SA Justice heard them discussing the possibility you might have either killed Rico yourself or had it arranged. They thought you’d want payback for your parents. Liz and Daniel.”
Pete knew damn well he’d been in the office when Rico had been killed, but everything Special Agent Justice overheard was true. He could have easily arranged for someone else to murder the Salvatores or managed to find a way to do the job himself.
“I didn’t kill anyone, Pete. If I did, it would have been a lot more gruesome and definitely more painful. And no one would ever find the bodies.”
Pete scowled and heaved a breath, hands on hips. “You can’t say things like that, Ash, not now, not even joking. I know you didn’t have anything to do with the murders, but both Salvatores are suspected of direct involvement with the bombing and your parents’ murder. You have good reason to want them dead.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Ash tightened his jaw, the ache in his left arm an indication he’d done the same with his fists. He flattened his palms on the top of his thighs and sucked in a slow, careful breath. “You think I haven’t figured that out already?”
“Has anyone considered maybe someone is after Ash? They’re either trying to set him up or might come after him next?” Andy’s quiet voice eased the tension between Ash and his boss. “You were part of Salvatore’s intimate circle for a while. If someone’s after them, they might come after you.”
Ash got to his feet and stalked over to the narrow window. He was silent for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged as he sighed.
“Yeah. I’ve thought of that. I’ve thought about how people close to me might be in danger again.” He glared unseeing out onto the street, refusing to look at Andy. He couldn’t look at Andy. “We’ve got to find who killed Rico and Gina. We’ve got find out before they start moving from the criminals to my friends again.”
“Or moving onto you,” Andy said.
Ash bounced his head against the thick pane of glass. He could handle someone threatening him, but he couldn’t bear it if… No. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen, not again. He thought of losing Andy or Lisa, even Pete, like he’d lost Daniel and…Liz.
Liz. He squeezed his eyes shut as the image of her pretty face rose in his mind, her laughing eyes, her voice. Th
e memories didn’t hurt as much as they once had, which was worse. The ache was there but had lessened. He should agonize and suffer for the rest of his life for causing the death of such an innocent, beautiful girl. She’d loved him, and he’d killed her.
Flexing his aching left arm out of habit, he rolled his shoulder and winced at the dull twinge from one of the many injuries that still plagued him. His hand fisted so his fingers couldn’t rub the thick, ragged scar running the length of his left thigh when the muscle and bone throbbed, as they often did when he let his guard down.
“Thanks to the media coverage of the explosion, pretty much everyone knows Ash was part of a RCMP undercover operation and not an actual member of Rico’s organization,” Pete pointed out. “No real reason for the cartel to come after him or anyone associated with him unless they hold a grudge, which is always a possibility.”
“The murders are probably unrelated to me. More likely someone was sick of Rico or wanted his territory, so they killed him and then Gina when she tried to continue his deals. When you’re involved all the shit Rico had going, someone always wants to take over, get rid of you. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Could be anyone for any reason. We just don’t know.”
“Not yet, but we will.” Pete studied Ash, his expression touched with concern. “Doing okay with all this?”
Ash glanced between Pete and Andy and then shrugged. “I’m glad Rico’s dead. Offended at the murders, but that’s the cop in me. Pissed, too. Really pissed. I wanted to hear him admit it—that he had my parents killed. Wanted to look him in the eye. I wanted that pretty fucking bad. To hear it from Gina, too—that she knew. Not just about my parents, but Liz. That she had a part in killing her friend. But I’m dealing with it.”
“You let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Pete told him. “You need to be careful, and not only because there’s a possibility someone might be after you. We’re riding a fine line with your involvement in this investigation, Inspector. With my official warning out of the way, I’d like to add that I appreciate any information and help you can give us, Ash.”
“You’re out at the lake house all by yourself,” Andy said. “Pretty remote. I can come stay if you’d like.”
“I don’t need a babysitter or guard, but thanks. Wouldn’t mind some company for dinner, though, if you and Lisa want to come out to the lake instead of me coming to your place.” And then he wouldn’t have to face Maggie and Abigail. “Been a while since we just sat around with a bottle of wine or two and relaxed. I’ll throw some steaks on the grill.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” Andy stood and slapped Ash on the back. “We’ll be over after Lisa gets done with her shift at the hospital.”
Andy left, and Ash turned to Pete. “Let me know what else Special Agent Justice overhears while undercover, all right? In case I should get a lawyer next time she wants to question me.”
“Ash,” he said reprovingly. “She doesn’t think you killed Rico or Gina any more than I do. She’s just doing her job, the same as you if you were in her position.”
Pete being right didn’t make the situation easier to bear. Ash wouldn’t mind seeing Special Agent Justice in any number of positions, and none pertained to work.
Emma stuck by the decision to keep her distance from the handsome inspector for almost three weeks, until she had to speak with him about a development in the investigation. Only to observe his honest reaction with her own eyes.
Yeah, right. She wanted to see something with her own eyes, all right, and not just Asher Beaulieu’s reaction to news concerning the Salvatore murder case.
Commander Davenport told her Beaulieu often used the pool at the gym and ran in the mornings before work, so she took a chance she’d catch him jogging the public trails. She attempted to get in a workout of her own but only managed about a mile before the heavy drizzle changed her plan. Finding a spot sheltered by low-hanging branches of a tree, she hoisted herself up on a relatively dry fence rail and waited for the inspector. He had to pass her way to get back to the gym, so he’d appear sooner or later.
People scurried by, their speed in direct relation to the protectiveness of their rain gear. Young couples had fun getting caught in the wet and damp, and hardcore runners slogged through puddles. Emma tucked her waterproof jacket closer around her shoulders and came to attention when a lone figure crested the hill. She recognized him even in nondescript sweatpants and an oversized grey sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head to protect him from the rain. An unwelcome tingle of warmth lit her belly at the memorable set of his wide shoulders. She gave serious consideration to jumping into his path and tackling him, but his eyes found where she perched and pinned her in place.
And holy hell, those eyes.
“Special Agent Justice. This is a surprise.” The cadence of his steps slowed as he came to a halt. At least he panted slightly, proving he was human. That disconcerting gaze stayed on her as he shoved the hood off his head and put his hands on his hips, breathing deeply. He lifted his left foot and stamped on the ground with a grimace.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Damn thing tightens up sometimes. Pretty bad muscle damage. Gives me a little trouble on days like today.”
“Oh.”
Her gaze dropped to his leg, and he stopped rubbing his thigh when he noticed where her attention had strayed. The reports she’d read detailed the many injuries he’d suffered in the blast. Amazing he could run at all, even after months of recovery.
“Don’t imagine you came out in the rain just to check up on me.” A dark brow rose when her gaze shot back to his. “Or did you?”
“What? No. I didn’t.” She jumped off the railing to stand in front of him. “Pete told me where you’d be. I came to let you know Leonard Moore was murdered last night.”
“Slick? Jesus.” Honest surprise flickered across his face. He paused, stared at her, and then blew out a breath. “Fuck. Tell me you didn’t find his body in the same damn clearing as Rico and Gina’s.”
“No, the men’s room at Clyde’s. Throat cut, same as both Salvatores.”
“Fuck,” he repeated, placing his hands on his hips and turning away. “Fuck!”
His shoulders tensed as he absorbed the news. Head lowered, he rolled his neck side to side before facing her again. “Someone’s working their way through Rico’s crew.”
“Yes.”
“Rival gang?”
“Not so far as we can tell. We’ve been monitoring everyone we know who was involved with Rico on both sides of the border and haven’t found anything to indicate that’s the case.”
“Someone with a more personal agenda, maybe? But who?” He stalked over to the railing to brace against the top as Emma shrugged. “Yeah. I don’t know either. Of course, I’ve been out of the loop for a while. Things change pretty fast.”
Emma nodded at his back. He wasn’t looking at her, so she spoke. “Yeah, I do. I was under with them for a while until Gina was killed, but… We’re still digging into the situation. We’ll figure this out.”
“Before everyone’s dead?” His eyes narrowed. “Jem—the kid. He was part of the inner circle. Jem McCrimmon. He’s Rico and Gina’s cousin, did a lot of odd jobs for Rico. Pete said we were watching him. Is he—”
“Still alive and well. We’ve got surveillance on him.”
“So it’s just him, me, and Tommy Bianchi left out of the original group. Of course, Tommy could very well be the one who killed them. Will he come after me? Or if it’s someone else, would they even bother with me at all? Can we use that somehow?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe you should be under surveillance, too, Inspector.”
He turned to face her, leaned his hips on the rail and crossed his arms over his chest. A lopsided smile tilted his mouth. “To keep me safe, or to keep tabs on me in case I did kill them?”
“Yes to all the above.” She returned his mocking smile. She didn’t think he had anything to do with the
murders, but she’d let him wonder. He was entirely too confident. And smirky.
“So, why you?”
“Why me, what?”
His gaze roved from her damp hair to her soggy shoes. “Why did you come tell me?”
“Pete didn’t want to get wet. I figured I could use a run, but I didn’t count on the weather being so bad.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced up at the sky, which still relentlessly spit moisture. “You’re welcome to join me, but I’m almost done. Can’t go as far or as long as I used to.”
He rubbed his thigh again and shrugged.
“That’s okay. I’m not any happier about getting soaked than Pete.”
He fell into step beside her as she jogged down the path. “Doesn’t seem to stop you. Nothing much does.”
“Inspector.” She fluttered her lashes. “Was that a compliment? Are we actually getting along? Or was it a dig about how much I annoy you?”
“You don’t annoy me.” He chuckled at the disbelieving look she shot him. “Okay, not all the time. Not that you annoy me, exactly. More like…”
He shrugged, casting her an awkward glance, and she nodded.
“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”
A smile almost appeared before he flipped the hood of the sweatshirt back over his head. He ran beside her until they reached her car in the parking lot.
“Well, this is me.” She gestured at the rental, and he waited until she unlocked the door and sat in the driver’s seat before placing his hand on the door. Emma looked up and got distracted by his eyes again, not to mention his face framed by the damp grey hood of his sweatshirt.
“Why you?” He repeated his earlier question. “Why did you come out and tell me about Slick?”
“Because—at the time—a jog sounded like a good idea. And I didn’t want you to be blindsided with the news.”
“You wanted to see my reaction.”
“Partly.” She shut the door but rolled the down the window. “I thought it might be better to get the info outside work and from someone you’d expect to hear bad news.”
