Cold Image (Extrasensory Agents Book 4)

by Leslie A. Kelly

  Soon enough, it happened. “Damn,” she whispered, seeing another alligator right in her path. She’d almost bumped into it. Gasping, she jerked to the side, stumbling and splashing.

  “Lou, Lou, skim to’m…”

  The singing cut off suddenly. She only hoped he hadn’t heard her, that she hadn’t ruined this stealthy pursuit.

  Kate cursed herself, but didn’t forget the gator. Nervousness made her heart pound, and her body shiver. Her instincts screamed at her to get away and she instinctively leapt forward, out of the way of the dark shape that felt like a reptilian sentry.

  One second too late, she realized she’d leapt past a log. Those hadn’t been eyes but knots in the stump. Worse, the maneuver left her off-balance.

  She fell forward into the knee-deep bog.

  As she fell, Kate put out her hands to brace herself. She hit the stagnant, reeking surface with a cry. Trying to keep her head up, she groaned as her palms hit bottom, landing in probably decades’ worth of silt. Her fingers sunk deep into the ooze, throwing her further off balance. With one second to slam her mouth closed, she collapsed face-first into the muck, feeling thick algae clog her nose. She scrunched her eyes shut to avoid getting filth into them. When a sharp branch jabbed into her cheek, she almost gasped in pain, but managed to keep her lips together.

  Kate struggled, intending to rise to all fours, but before she could, she was hoisted by the waist, into the arms of the dark-haired man she’d been shadowing.

  “Jesus, Kate, are you okay?”

  Spitting and wiping her dirty hands across her equally dirty face, she nodded. “My pride hurts. And yuck!”

  He hugged her close, her whole body shuddering against his strong chest. He gave off a warmth she craved, and after a moment, she was able to draw a steady breath.

  “I’m s-sorry I followed you. I was a little creeped out waiting alone.”

  “Forget it. I should never have left you by yourself.”

  “I saw…thought I was about to bump into a gator.”

  “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged you with me at all.” Holding her protectively, he muttered, “Such an idiot.”

  She took no offense, knowing he was talking to himself. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not, and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

  She didn’t argue. All the adventure had been muddied out of her. All she wanted was a five-hour long hot shower and ten bars of Irish Spring. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  She began to struggle to get down. He didn’t let her, merely gripping tighter and tramping back through the water, eating up the distance between them and dry land. He no longer seemed to care about the mysterious voice they’d been following, or if the singer heard them during their hurried exit. His entire body was hard with tension, and she could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he was furious at himself.

  “I’m really fine,” she murmured. “I can walk now.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “You can’t carry me all the way to my car.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  She laughed softly at his masculine confidence, but not for long. Because, honestly, she suspected he could if he wanted to. Which would be kind of embarrassing for her, but a lot hot of him.

  Once they were on drier land, he shifted her to grab a water bottle from a pack resting on his hip, but he didn’t put her down. The man was holding her up, bride-style, with a single arm that flexed and rippled, straining against the black sleeve of his T-shirt. Suddenly, she didn’t mind so much that she was coated from head to toe with mud and algae.

  “Here, you could probably use this.”

  She took the water, trying to shake off her enjoyment at being carried by him. He adjusted her back in both arms and continued walking. Wanting to gulp in sheer appreciation of the man’s strength, but definitely not wanting to swallow any more filth, she twisted the top off the bottle and lifted it to her mouth. As an environmentalist, she made a point to avoid such wasteful packaging. Right now, she was ready to bow down and worship at the altar of Dasani.

  First sprinkling water over her fingertips, she smoothed some over her lips to scrape off the dry mud. When she felt somewhat capable of not contaminating every sip, she lifted the bottle, took a mouthful, swished it around, and leaned her head over to spit it out.

  “Had your mouth open when you fell, huh?”

  “Maybe for a second.”

  “I suspect that was enough.”

  “More than.”

  She took another mouthful, swished, swirled, gargled, and spit again. Finally she felt like her tongue, cheeks and teeth might be clean enough to actually swallow. The water wasn’t cold, but, because it was clean, it tasted better than anything. She didn’t drink it all though, using half to try to clean her face. It was pretty hopeless, but at least she no longer felt like she was in a pricey spa wearing a mud mask.

  As soon as they reached the outer tree line, she squirmed. “Okay, put me down.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Maybe not, but she did. Embarrassing enough to have fallen face-first into a swamp, spoiling their pursuit. No way did she want to remain glued to him, her head on his shoulder, until she did something stupid like rub her lips against the slick, sweaty skin of his neck.

  “Please.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I want to get a better look at you anyway.”

  He lowered her carefully. Despite the way her legs shook as she scraped her way down his body during the not-long-enough descent, and her toes squished in water and mud inside her boots, she did remain upright when she hit the ground. Since more moonlight shone down on them, and she could see better, she glanced down. Every inch of her was coated with slimy green-and-brown mud. Her wet hair had fallen out of its ponytail and hung in matted clumps against her shoulders. And her hands stung. Lifting them, she saw specks of blood oozing through the dried mud. Judging by the throbbing in her face, she suspected her cheek was worse.

  Derek noticed. Grabbing her chin, he tilted her face until moonlight shone on it.

  “Fuck. You’re hurt.”

  She remembered the stick that came close to her eye. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Reaching into a military-style pack at his hip, he retrieved a first aid packet, and another bottle of water. The man certainly came prepared. He pulled out a clean piece of gauze, poured water on it, and moved close. So close his jean-clad leg shifted between her filthy ones. She swallowed hard, feeling a lot warmer, despite the cold place, the cold air, and the cold mud.

  “I’m not sure this will help a lot; I’m almost as filthy as you are.”

  “I doubt that,” she said with an eye roll. “You didn’t take a swim in Lake Fish Crap.”

  “Every lake on the planet is Lake Fish Crap,” he said.

  “Which is why I don’t swim in lakes.”

  “What about the ocean?”

  She sighed. “I love the ocean.”

  “So you swim in lake whale crap,” he said, a teasing note in his voice. She hadn’t realized he was doing it, but he’d relaxed her, and she was no longer trembling.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, lifting the gauze to her cheek and gently wiping away whatever he saw there.

  She had nowhere to look but up at him, studying the dark eyes, the hard jaw, the hollowed cheeks. God help her. It was like coming out of a cave and looking directly at the sun.

  As he continued to wet-and-wipe, a tiny grin appeared on his lips.

  “What?”

  “Sorry. You look…less than your best.”

  “Aren’t we a pair, then? Because you don’t exactly smell like a bouquet of roses.”

  That was true. But he also put off a masculine scent of musk and sweat. She was only pretending not to like it. Oh, not the swamp goop, but the man beneath it.

  He laughed softly, mindful of where they were and the risk of discovery
. “Fair enough.”

  She also liked that laugh, liked the little lines it brought to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t smile a lot, and she’d never heard him do much more than chuckle, but, if possible, he was even better-looking when amused than when glowering and fierce.

  Although, being totally honest, the fierceness was pretty goddamn sexy.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you have a suture kit in your magic bag?”

  “I don’t think you’re gonna need stitches.”

  He finished and retrieved a small tube of antibiotic ointment from his pack. Squeezing a bit out, he gently applied it to her cut. There was no gauze between her cheek and his warm fingertip this time, and Kate felt the light, tender strokes right down to the soles of her feet. The connection was impersonal—medicinal, not sexual—but she was suddenly aroused as if they were standing beside a bed, both of them clean-looking, clean-smelling, and ready.

  No man had ever affected her like this. A simple brush of skin on skin had her weak and breathless, despite the setting, and her filthy condition.

  She’d been attracted to the leather-jacket-wearing bad boy, so much like the ones she’d gone for in her youth. The man who’d swooped her out of that swamp, carried her to safety, and was now tenderly applying ointment to her cut? Damn. This was a man a woman could lose her head over…and her heart to.

  “This won’t be enough,” he warned as he tilted her head again to study his handiwork. “You’ll have to wash it really well and use peroxide on it when you get home. Actually, since you’re a doctor, you might want to get yourself some antibiotics.”

  She nodded mutely, wondering how she could be feeling so crazy-dizzy-warm-hungry. This wasn’t the smart, sensible Kate, the one who always had a plan and always stuck to it. This was the insane, mud-covered Kate, who wanted to rise up on her tiptoes, wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

  He dropped his hand, still holding the ointment. But he didn’t back away, remaining close—so close. Staring at her intently, he looked for any more scrapes or injuries. Kate couldn’t help parting her lips, breathing hard over them, watching him with eyes she knew must be swimming with confusion…and more. She moistened her lips, unable to resist, glad they were smooth and moist, free of any last remnants of mud.

  “Damn, Doc,” he whispered. “Talk about time and place.”

  But it didn’t matter. Time, place, and swamp be damned. Tonight had been high-octane, dark and dangerous. She was wired, adrenaline still shooting through her. And right now, she was more excited than she’d been when they were chasing down that damned singing ghost.

  “I’m glad you had that water so I could clean up a little,” she whispered, knowing he would catch her meaning. Especially my mouth.

  “Ditto.”

  Without another word, she slid her arms around his neck. He hesitated for a second, and then wrapped his around her waist and pulled her hard against him. Their mouths came together in a heated rush. His tongue swept against hers. Derek, who hadn’t been clumsy enough to crash into three feet of water, tasted clean and hot, utterly male. She only hoped she didn’t taste of swamp water and fish guts.

  Judging by the way he devoured her, she suspected she didn’t.

  It had been such a long time since she’d been kissed. Especially long since she’d been pressed throat to knee against a man so devastatingly attractive he made all rational thought disappear. Smart Kate, wise Kate, Dr. Kate was gone. In her place was a woman who stalked prey through jungles, who could wrestle alligators and sneer at snakes.

  Well, maybe not. But she was a woman who could ignore time, place, and smell and just kiss a man because it felt so good.

  Their tongues writhed together, hungry and possessive. Anyone spying them from the grounds would think they were a pair of dark woods creatures who’d risen out of the muddy ground to frolic in the moonlight.

  No frolicking. No, this kiss was as far as it could go. It wasn’t merely an impossible location, but she also felt wet leaves, earth, and algae drying and hardening against all the places under her clothing they had been able to reach. Yuck.

  He ended the kiss a second before she would have. Stepping back, he stared at her, studying her as if to see if she had any regrets. She knew he would find none.

  “That was dumb.”

  Something inside her deflated. “Maybe.”

  “You know somebody could be watching us right now. I completely lost my focus.” He swiped a hand through his hair, visibly angry at himself.

  Kate stiffened, not exactly complimented by his reaction to their kiss. But if he could blow it off so easily, so could she. “Calm down. It was a release of tension. We’ve been running on adrenaline, we’re exhausted and needed an outlet. Like a boiling pot letting off steam.”

  “That your professional opinion?”

  Actually, it wasn’t her opinion. Tension and attraction had danced between them since first meeting. She still let it go. “Yes.”

  “Maybe that’s true. But you’re also a client. You’re vulnerable.”

  Now she was getting annoyed. “I’m not that vulnerable.” She might be feminine, but nobody had ever accused her of being soft. She’d survived a shitty childhood, had clawed her way through medical school, and had thrived in a war zone.

  “I mean regarding your brother.”

  Oh. Yes. She was probably more vulnerable when it came to Isaac than anything else. That didn’t mean she had kissed him looking for comfort. “I will mourn my brother for the rest of my life. That doesn’t make me vulnerable, merely human.”

  He looked at her searchingly, as if gauging the truth of her words, to see if she was putting on a brave front. She wasn’t. She might have when she’d gotten that last agonized plea from Isaac and realized her only sibling had been murdered. Since then, the need to find out what had happened to him had gradually replaced grief.

  He must have believed what he saw, because he finally said, “Well, you’re still a client.”

  Right. “And a filthy one,” she admitted, wondering why he’d kissed her back. She certainly wasn’t at her most alluring.

  “I think there’s a saying about a pot and a kettle that might work here.”

  True. Although not as bad as her, he wasn’t exactly clean and fresh, either. Which made her wonder what might happen the next time the two of them were alone together, without being covered in swamp.

  Kate hadn’t been this interested in a man in a long time. Since something inside her was reawakening after a long, dormant period, she had to wonder what he might say once this case was solved and she was no longer his client. For a long time, her focus had been Isaac—his unhappiness, and then his death. She’d had a hard time looking into any future beyond getting the answers she sought and didn’t know what kind of life she was going to have once she had them. She had put off deciding whether to go back to New York, to reconnect with old friends, or to set up a practice and make a life in Georgia. She lived in a furnished apartment, had a part-time, contract-based job. Nothing about her life was permanent.

  But maybe she would soon have to make those decisions. Hopefully she would—because the mystery of Isaac’s disappearance would be solved. Part of her was actually looking forward to figuring out what her life might hold next. And whether this man to whom she was so attracted might be in it in some non-professional capacity.

  “We should go. It’s late.” He shoved the ointment, gauze, and bottle back into his pack.

  “Derek, I…”

  “Besides, I think we both need a time out.”

  “Like kids being punished for raiding the cookie jar?”

  One lip quirked up. “You don’t smell like chocolate chips, Doc.”

  No. More like week-old boiled cabbage left in a sealed garbage can.

  Without another word, they began to trek through the woods, trying to stay close to the outer line of trees where the ground was dry. They never stepped out onto the moonlit lawn
where they might be seen. She doubted anyone would see them out here—but someone could be standing in a dorm window. Considering the buildings themselves felt like they had eyes, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched whenever they were near it.

  They moved quickly, so it didn’t take a whole hour to get to the car, but it was a good fifty minutes. They walked in near-silence, stopping only to warn of an obstacle—a fallen tree, a protruding root—or a creature. Fortunately, the alligators didn’t venture this far away from the water. Unfortunately, the insects did. She continually had to wave her hand in front of her face to scare away the no-see-ems, which she most definitely saw.

  When they reached the car and got in, she quickly turned on the heat, noting that steam came from both of their mouths with every breath. Hers were harsh, even though she liked to swim and hit the Stairmaster pretty regularly. He, meanwhile, seemed barely affected. The man was definitely in prime physical condition. Derek Monahan was distractingly hot even when filthy and stinking of swamp. Now that she’d kissed him, she didn’t think she was ever going to be able to go back to being unaware of his raw sexiness.

  “Good thing you don’t have cloth seats. They’d be stained green forever after tonight.”

  “True. And at least it’s almost silent.”

  “Yeah,” he said, shifting in the passenger seat, and trying to stretch out his legs. “Silent and tiny. You don’t drive this car, you wear it on your back.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Okay, I’m an environmentalist.”

  “You sure got your fill of the Georgia environment tonight.”

  “No kidding. If I never taste another mouthful of swamp water it will be too soon.” She shuddered. “I really thought I was about to step right into the mouth of an alligator.”

  “I figured that when you started splashing like a kid doing a belly flop.”

  “I’ve never run into alligators, and I’m not deathly afraid of snakes, for the most part.” She shuddered. “Bugs, though…yuck. At least it was too chilly for mosquitos, thank God.”