“You must be foggy to think you get breakfast credits, Mor—” Jesse held the spatula in midair, eyes focused on the hallway.
Grant turned. His mouth dropped.
Red and gold streaks glinted in Miranda’s free-flowing hair while she glided under a skylight and into the room.
Here was a Miranda he’d never seen before-not at work and not bedraggled. He fought to stay composed while his gaze traveled the length of her body. Kyle’s old sweater must’ve shrunk. Substantially.
The V neckline accented her bosom and exposed way too much. “I’ll call Langley’s and get your things brought over. Trey’ll think he’s lucky to sell you Red with winter feeding coming soon.”
“Thank you, Grant,” Miranda said.
Jesse’s eyes narrowed to slits and centered on him.
Grant cleared his throat. “We’ll head to the airport after breakfast.”
“Okay,” Miranda said. “Coffee smells good.”
He handed her the cup he’d poured for himself. “Freshly brewed.” Their fingers brushed, her touch recharging his soul. Downtime was all they needed. They’d go slowly, get to know each other. Once she fully trusted him, desensitizing would cure her aversion to guns. Love wasn’t always painful, and he’d prove it to her.
The tick of a mantle clock methodically beat through the dead silence.
“I’d appreciate having my own clothes.” Miranda adjusted the sweater, hiding her cleavage by a half inch of ribbing.
Grant tore his eyes away. “I’ll call the Langley’s.” He walked through the arched doorway and plopped onto the couch, in sight of the kitchen. And Miranda. Sweat stuck his palms to the phone. “Trey, this is Grant. I wondered if I could get Miranda’s belongings in a few minutes. We’re catching today’s flight to Seattle.”
Jesse’s eyes widened while Miranda bent to pull a carton of cream from the refrigerator. The sweater didn’t conceal her shapely butt.
A growl came from Grant’s throat. “Sure, swing by if it’s no trouble. We’re having breakfast at Roy Werner’s. Hey, I want to buy Red.”
Miranda straightened and smiled straight at him, and her smile would melt chocolates at twenty feet.
His pulse jumped. He managed to smile back.
Trey believed the mule had caused all the trouble. “Consider it a deal. He fits in our herd, and Miranda wants him. You name the price.” He’d clean out his retirement account if necessary. “I’ll send a check. See you soon.”
Grant cradled the phone and took a breath.
Outside, a layer of fresh snow bent the grass in the meadow. After the sun warmed it, the blades would spring back.
In much the same way, Miranda bent with stress and never broke. She met challenges head on and would make a perfect bureau wife—after she took time to regroup when the trial finished and they all returned to business as usual.
He rubbed his temple. What would his next version of normal be? His task list had never included ousting a damn inside mole.
A picture of a Porsche Carrera flashed in his brain—the black one Sam’s boss owned.
His body froze.
Their own SAC could be plotting to kill Miranda.
~ ~ ~
Grant had finished the call to Trey, and then he’d moved to look out the window facing the lake. Was she imagining that his body seemed tense?
What else worried him?
He turned. “Red’s yours.”
“Really?” She squealed. Oh, he was so hot when his dimple showed with a genuine smile. So, so hot.
Miranda set down her coffee and gripped the counter behind her with one hand. She crooked a finger on her other hand to motion him over.
He leaned toward her, his breath warm on her throat.
She rose to tiptoe, her mouth hovering near his lips, and then pecked his cheek. “All the thanks you get for now.”
“Welcome.” His voice had deepened to a throaty timbre. He fidgeted with his gun holster, and his eyes flicked between the agents.
“Tarnished reputation, agent Morley?” she whispered.
Color rose in Grant’s cheeks. “I promised I’d see to Red’s care. Your clothes will arrive in ten minutes.” He rested his hand at the small of her back, then dropped it. “The breakfast I ordered from my former student smells ready.”
Jesse piled eggs on a plate and handed it to Miranda. “Like you’d know burnt from blanched, Morley. Roy’s grilling the steaks.”
Kyle stepped in the room and patted Miranda’s arm. “How’s my favorite Seattle patient?”
“Better now. Grant bought Red for me.” She took a sip of coffee. “Thank you for the use of your room. I slept wonderfully until dawn.”
Grant cleared his throat. “Borrowed some clothes from your dresser, bro.”
Kyle glanced at her. “No worries. Hey, do I smell the infamous Wagyu beef grilling?”
“I missed the meal where Kathleen served those steaks—had a delightful fishy dinner instead.” Miranda turned to Jesse. “Yum. Mushrooms and onion in the eggs. Thanks.”
“Anything for our heroine.” Jesse threw her another dazzling smile.
“I’ll get my folks,” Grant snapped. “They’ll enjoy your blanched breakfast, too.” He slapped Jesse on the shoulder while he passed him. “If the bureau doesn’t work out, guess you’d make a good fry cook.”
Miranda did a double take and then stepped aside to make room for an older version of Kyle carrying a dish heaped with barbecued steaks.
“I’m Roy Werner.” He set the platter on the counter and shook her hand. “Bet you’re the Miranda I’ve heard about.”
“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.”
“You’re very welcome. Dig in, everyone,” he said.
The aroma of seared beef filled the kitchen. Several agents speared hunks of meat onto their plates.
Pat strode in and drew Roy into the hug of an old friendship. “Sorry to be those sleep, eat, and run kind of guests.”
“Friends are always welcome,” Roy said. “Darned shame about the hubbub. I’m hoping Miss Miranda will return and bring a friend for Kyle.” He winked at his son. “I’ll show her where I hide the spare key.”
“My friend, Corrin, wanted to join me. Under different circumstances, I’m certain Emma Springs is a perfect town to visit.” Miranda scrutinized a series of locks on the front door. He’d have to provide a ring of keys aided by a retinal scan by the time she returned—if Karpenito didn’t find her first.
~ ~ ~
“Three Falls Airport’s the next exit,” Kyle announced over the drone of country music on the radio. Even from the third row of seats in the back of the Suburban, Grant could see his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.
Everyone except his parents were on edge. They’d fallen asleep in the center row of seats. Mom’s head rested on Dad’s shoulder, like teenagers on a date.
He turned and looked through the rear window. A Stater tailed them at a safe distance.
Miranda slunk further into the seat next to him and wrapped her coat tighter. “I didn’t realize until this week what I’ve missed most.”
He leaned closer to her. “Tell me.”
“Loving support. I don’t have my folks to steer me over life’s hurdles.”
“I can’t imagine how horrible that would be. I still discuss big decisions with my family and made several phone calls when I doubted my choice to join the bureau.”
“I understand questioning that decision.”
“It annoyed the hell out of Dad. Mom encouraged me to rethink my career path.”
“Why?”
“I guess she hoped I’d become a teacher like her. She maintained I’d been empathetic since first grade.”
“Maybe it’s
time to own those softer emotions which have begun to trickle out like a leaky spigot.”
“My plumbing’s fine,” he scoffed. “What did your parents do?”
“My dad taught school,” Miranda said. “You’re like him in some ways.”
Good. Grant flashed the smile he knew would show his dimple. “You can call any of us. We consider you part of our family. You saved us and alerted me to a few things sadly lacking in my life.” He pulled her hand from her coat pocket and squeezed her fingers. “It’s killing me to be bureau ready again.”
“I’m alive because you’ve been bureau ready since we met, and you’ve all been wonderful.” A weak smile crossed her lips before she pulled her hand away.
They’d all been wonderful? That sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a goodbye. She was pulling inward again. But why? He’d explained he couldn’t show his attraction in front of the other agents. Or was she scared?
He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be going back, either. For once, there wasn’t any thrill in the take down after a bust. His folks and Miranda had narrowly missed being murder victims. Seattle posed different problems.
Kyle turned into the terminal.
Two Montana staters flanked them while he parked in the loading zone.
“Hey, backseat lovebirds masquerading as my parents, we’ve arrived at the airport,” he said.
“I’ve never seen more than a security guard here before.” Pat pointed at the marked cars and hopped out. “Isn’t it officer overkill for Three Falls?”
Grant winced. “Consider it preparation for an urban experience.”
“Thanks again for being our chauffeur, Kyle,” Pat gave him a hug. “I know you hate airports.”
“Hope you make the plane,” Kyle stepped to the rear and unloaded luggage. “You cut it close.”
“That’s the idea.” Grant said. “The airline knows the situation. Everyone head to TSA.”
Pain etched deep grooves in his dad’s wrinkled face while he climbed out. “My ribs are telling me a plane ride’s welcome. Otherwise I’d be weed whacking.”
Grant maneuvered out of the back row of seats and did a quick check of the parking lots.
Karpenito could be anywhere, prepared to whack them.
Chapter 16
Funny, the airplane seemed to be the safest place Miranda had been in days. Security had downgraded to a beefy man in dark clothes who got on and sat two rows behind them. He had to be a sky marshal.
The rest of the passengers appeared blandly benign on a normal flight.
Pat and Tom chatted in the row behind them.
She closed her eyes, absorbing the family banter. Grant studied her again—she could sense the laser focus of his attention. No pinpointing the exact moment, but within the last two days, internal radar had kicked in, sending a pulse at the exact moment his hazel eyes landed on her.
With the slightest movement of air, her nose detected his scent. Her traitorous body vibrated in the most sensual manner conceivable from his lightest touch. Like now, while his shoulder pressed into hers, solid, strong. A shiver ran through her.
“With all you’ve been through, I can get the FBI to provide a counselor,” Grant whispered.
“I’m ready to face my past,” she said.
“Great. Let me know when you want to start.” Grant squeezed her hand.
“I need a moratorium on guns first.”
A grimace crossed his lips. “You’ll have to identify the firearm Venom carried. I’ll do what I can to hustle things along.”
She placed her palm over her heart. “You make things happen, Agent Morley.”
“Please prepare for landing,” a flight attendant announced. Fifty-two degrees and cloudy at SeaTac Airport.”
Miranda stared out to where Lake Washington and Mercer Island stretched below. “I wonder if I’ll have to get used to sleeping through traffic noises again?”
Grant pushed the armrest down. “If there’s any wildlife calls I can make, let me know.”
If only he would move away—a little bit closer. Her brain continued the battle against her Grant-addicted body. “Howling coyotes? I think not.” She turned to the window. “Sequestered in a hotel room’s another first on my list.”
The plane dipped toward a row of lights, blinking through a light drizzle.
“I’ll be wherever you want me at the hotel,” Grant offered. “Sam will meet us at the airport and provide an escort.”
“Protocol, I bet.”
The plane bounced twice, taxied, and the sky time ended.
“Yup.” Grant turned on his phone and thumbed the screen. “Tests came back from the remains in the burned dumpster.”
He stood and offered his hand to her. “They listed fibers from a wig and material used in platform soles. It confirms our suspicions. Karpenito wore a disguise.” His voice had shifted to authority mode.
“No lie, Sherlock,” she muttered, and grabbed her purse. “Guess we both know.”
Grant’s mouth opened, and then closed. His body stayed rigid while they entered the concourse.
Three men in dark jackets stood off to the left. The oldest man nodded at Grant, then he continued watching passengers departing behind them.
A nearly imperceptible movement of Grant’s head indicated his perusal of the crowd.
His palm pressed into her back, directing her to the men. “I want you to meet my boss, the Assistant Special Agent in Charge, or ASAC.”
Of course. The important witness offered for inspection. She veered to avoid a toddler wobbling on chubby legs. Her fingertips brushed his feather soft hair. Someday.
“Hi, I’m Sam Coswell. You must be Miranda. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand. His smile played out as phony as Karpenito’s beard.
She shook and then stepped back to Grant’s side. “I’ll be pleased if everyone survives.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam nodded. “Here’s Pat and Tom, now.”
Pat opened her arms to the agent. “Hey, Sam. You need to plan another fishing trip. We’d welcome your gang at our ranch any time. Bringing significant others, of course.” She flashed a grin at Miranda.
“The team’s busy, Mom,” Grant said.
“I’d appreciate a vacation.” Sam shook Tom’s hand. “Good to have you folks here. Sorry about the circumstances.”
“We got to meet Miranda in the deal. The rewards outweigh the plight.” Tom patted Miranda on the shoulder. “She’s a real keeper, same as my Pat.”
“Bad analogy,” Pat said. “No fish on a string reference for either of us women. Miranda’s a faceted jewel. She etched a mark on us all.”
“Ask the Maneski thug she left in a manure pile.” Grant added.
Nice recovery on an awkward moment in front of the boss. Miranda turned to watch a woman pushing a stroller while clutching a sleeping baby to her shoulder. She stared at the woman’s back until she disappeared in the crowd. Longing tugged deep into her soul.
“I’d like to hear the manure story,” Sam said. “Right now, it’s time to collect luggage and head to the hotel.”
Grant took her elbow, while three other agents surrounded her. The group shifted to avoid a wheelchair, each man keeping two feet away from her.
A TSA attendant sat at the last security point. No one familiar stood in the crowd behind him.
“Grant, you let Corrin and Iris know my flight, didn’t you?”
“Negative.”
“You promised.” She slowed her pace.
Grant gripped her arm and propelled her forward. “Plans changed. Couldn’t risk it.”
They marched around a corner, her throat scratching as if she’d swallowed sand. “I need a drink.” She pointed to a fountain anchored on a nearby wall.
/> While she bent her head, Grant, the sky marshal, and two agents formed a shoulder-to-shoulder barrier around her.
Miranda straightened up. “Damn Karpenito,” she said.
Grant met her eyes. Nothing could hide his fear.
~ ~ ~
“Same Seattle, bustling with travelers.” Grant struggled to casually scan the passengers grabbing luggage from the circulating carousel. He smiled at Miranda.
She ignored him and barely looked up when Sam walked over.
“Grant, you’ll accompany Pat and Miranda to the hotel,” he said. “Tom rides in the second car with me and the luggage.”
Miranda pulled her jacket closer to her chest. “Maybe I should crawl into a suitcase to conceal the bullseye on my back.”
“Simply precautionary.” Grant steered her to the left when they split into two groups at the escalator leading to the arrival pickup area.
Miranda stepped on first. He placed one foot beside hers, shifting his body sideways, creating a barrier.
Every nerve ending thrummed, while his mind focused on the perimeter activities. “I enjoy travelling together in tight places.”
“Yeah, right.” Her head hung as she shuffled off and toward sliding glass doors leading outside.
An overcast sky hung behind a dark SUV pulling curbside.
Grant’s hand slipped to his Glock while the bulletproof window rolled down. He recognized the driver. “The women will ride in the middle. I’ll ride up front.” He opened the back door for Miranda.
“Whatever.” Rumbling motors nearly drowned out her voice.
He smoothed her coat sleeve. “We should be at the hotel in fifteen minutes. Let’s make a call to Corrin a priority after we get in the room.”
Eyes hooded by dark lashes turned away.
She buckled her seat belt. “Sure.”
“Maybe Miranda can point out landmarks to me on the drive.” His mom’s voice projected calm authority, a holdover from teaching second graders. “I haven’t spent much time in Seattle.”
The Hitman's Mistake Page 23
