U.S. Marshals: Prey (U.S. Marshals Book 3)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “You’re welcome, dear.”

  Adam hustled Bug onto the elevator, punching the close-door button five times in rapid succession.

  In Bug’s unit, he made a beeline to the fridge for beer and cold mac and cheese, then parked on the sofa, using the remote to flick on the TV.

  “Make yourself at home,” Bug said.

  “Did you want a beer?” he asked while she glared at him from behind the coffee table. “Here, take this one. I’ll get another.”

  She sighed. “It’s not beer I want, Adam, but an explanation for why you’ve been acting so bizarre.”

  “Don’t have a clue what you mean.” He turned up an episode of the new “Trading Spaces” on the Learning Channel. Both agreed they preferred the old ones.

  “Case in point…” she stormed to the TV and shut it off. “You despise this new show. Every time it’s on, you say—and I quote, ‘A flying squirrel could make a house look better with so much money.’”

  “I never say that.” Gazing out the window over the kitchen sink, jiggling his right foot, he added, “And if anyone has been acting bizarre, it’s you.”

  “How?”

  “You want specifics?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “All right. For starters, how about the fact that this is like the third time you’ve stood me up for a dinner date.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but wasn’t it you who said we don’t have dates, but meetings?”

  He scratched his head.

  “Well?”

  “You know what I mean. If you had a meeting with Franks, would you just not show up without even the benefit of a courtesy call? I know you’ve got a cell phone. Did you forget how to use it?”

  “That’s it.” Her eyes got all big and wet and she pointed to the door. “I’ve tried being nice to you. I tried helping with your stupid scheme to dupe your shrink. I was even dumb enough to think whatever it is we share might actually be going somewhere, but you’re hopeless. No woman will ever catch you.”

  “Duh,” he said. “Because I was already caught by Angela Jacobs.”

  “She’s dead, Adam. What don’t you get about that fact?”

  “What are you saying?” Adam demanded.

  Bug threw her hands in the air, dropping them with a dramatic smack against her thighs. “I give up,” she muttered on her way to the bedroom.

  “No.” He sprung off the sofa. “You’re not going to throw something like that on the table, then just walk away. Finish what you started.”

  She slammed the bedroom door.

  He barreled down the hall, jerking open the door. “Why are you so jealous of what I shared with Angela? God knows you bring her up enough.”

  “And you don’t?” Bug asked. She stood at her bedroom window, arms crossed, expression thunderous and impossible to read.

  “I almost married Angela,” he said. “Doesn’t that give me a right to talk about her?”

  “Of course,” she said with a half laugh. “Forgive me for being so obtuse.”

  “No, really. You started this. Tell me why it makes you so crazy whenever I so much as mention Angela’s name? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to replace the part she played in my life.”

  “You dare ask me that after lecturing me on how no one can replace a dead loved one?” She shook her head. “Yes, I was a kid and did the only thing I knew how to do to help my dad through an awful time. And yes, as an adult, I’m still playing catch-up to find the real me, but you, Adam Logue, are a complete whack job. Do you even admit to yourself you have serious issues when it comes to letting go of the past? The last thing I want to do is replace Angela, or the special place she warms in your heart. But it might be nice for you to make a little new room in there—if not for me, then at least yourself. I, at least, realize I have no life and am trying to change it. You, on the other hand, think everything’s just hunky-dory.”

  He stood there staring, wanting to say something, but he was unsure where to begin.

  “Go home, Adam.” She wrapped her arms even tighter around herself. “You’re no longer welcome here.”

  He snorted. “That’s a helluva thing to say to your best friend.”

  “Ex-best friend.”

  Shaking his head, Adam abided by her wishes.

  When Adam closed her loft door, Charity gave in to the slow tremble that’d been building ever since encountering him on that bench outside her building. Dammit. He had to feel something more than friendship for her. Had to. Steph thought so, too. Every bone in Charity’s body told her Adam was hiding from his own feelings, but knowing that did nothing to help her work through her own.

  Loving Adam was akin to loving a rock.

  No, she thought, crossing to the bed, flopping onto the pile of pillows at the head. That wasn’t fair. In his own way, Adam was incredibly sweet. This weekend’s fishing trip, for instance. He’d put an incalculable amount of heart and thought into the outing, but to what end? To help her overcome her issues over her lack of confidence, so she might ultimately land a man other than himself?

  Right. Seeing how he’d reacted this afternoon on the mere suspicion she’d been with Sam, she didn’t believe for one second Adam wanted to see her with anyone but him. But even knowing that, what could she do?

  Her sister had come up with a myriad of supposedly perfect plans for luring him into her feminine spell. And they’d worked, but unless Adam gave up Angela’s ghost, she might as well forget the whole thing. They’d be great friends forever—of that, she was certain—but friendship wouldn’t give her a baby to cuddle and rock. Friendship wouldn’t give her a loving partner to share her child’s firsts with. Kindergarten parent/teacher conferences and attending Disney movies on premiere weekends. Building snowmen and making Fourth of July ice cream. Sure, all of it sounded corny and sappy sweet, but she wanted it all. Her whole life, she’d fought to succeed in a man’s world, and now she wanted to conquer womanhood—in every sense of the word.

  Was she a headcase for dreaming of such wonders? And what about her job? Yes, it was deep within a man’s world, but it’d become her world, too. She’d made great friends, and each time she poured every ounce of her soul and sweat into taking down a bad guy, it felt so damned good. So how was she supposed to do all of that, and still have time to be a great mom? Yes, Gillian had managed to snag the best of both worlds, but Charity had to wonder if she was just fooling herself into believing she could have it all, too.

  Funny, though, how even knowing the absurdity of her quest did nothing to diminish the wanting.

  And so she cried herself to sleep, waking with quiet determination to finally, ultimately, make a clean break from Adam. She’d begun the process before, but until now, hadn’t taken the vow seriously.

  She wasn’t sure how, but some way—today—she would free her heart from its futile quest for Adam Logue’s love.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Charity said to her boss, Franks, Friday morning. “Do you have a sec?”

  “Caldwell,” he said with a grunt. “Good work on capturing Number Eight. I was just coming to find you.”

  “Oh?” His office was plush, and her black pumps made no sound on the thick beige carpet.

  “Sit.”

  “Yessir.” She planted herself in one of the supple navy-leather guest chairs facing his desk.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Actually, sir, I was coming to request a transfer—”

  A knock sounded on the office door, then Beau, Caleb, Bear, Sam and a sullen, red-eyed Adam strolled through.

  “Great,” Franks said. “All of you have a seat. Something’s come up that I’d like you to handle.”

  “Sir,” Charity said. “I really—”

  “After this assignment, Caldwell, we’ll talk, but until then, I need your attention one-hundred-percent focused on the task at hand. Understood?”

  “Yessir.” Adam’s mere presence raised goosebumps on h
er forearms. Hopefully, this assignment would be a short-lived thing, like the one she’d just finished with his brothers.

  “Here’s the deal…” Franks stood before plucking a thick pile of folders from his desk, then distributed them to his marshals. “For the foreseeable future, you will be handling a high-profile security case. Federal Judge Norton in Cedarville has received numerous death threats in conjunction with the trial he’s presiding over.”

  From the sofa, Caleb whistled, his nose buried in his copy of the files. “This brings back nasty memories.”

  “I’ll bet,” Franks said. “Sorry about that, but as one of my best men, I need you heading this team.”

  “Absolutely,” Caleb said.

  Best as Charity could remember, Caleb’s wife, Allie, had been threatened by a particularly blood-thirsty white supremacist group.

  Charity closed her eyes for a split second. She felt for this Judge Norton. Truly, she did. But she was on the verge of a major panic attack just being in the same room with Adam, and now she was supposed to be cooped up with him in the close quarters and endless hours high-profile security teams faced?

  She opened her eyes to find Adam staring at her and sharply looked away.

  “Caleb,” Franks said, “I’ll leave it to your discretion to make individual duty assignments. For now, all of you have exactly one hour to gather gear, make goodbyes to loved ones, and meet back here, ready to roll. Questions?”

  When no one raised a hand, Franks dismissed them.

  On the way out, Adam followed her into the hall. Unfortunately, because she’d been first into Franks’s office, she was last out, making her an easy target.

  “We need to talk,” he said, fingers encircling her upper arm.

  “Adam, not now. I’ve got a lot to do in the next hour.”

  “Duh. I just want you to know that I plan to handle this assignment in a professional manner. Whatever’s bugging you, I respectfully ask you to leave it here. We’ll pick it up when we get home.”

  Staring at him incredulously, she shook her head and laughed. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” Wrenching her arm free, she pointed her index finger at his chest. “I’m not the one making a big deal out of the way things were left last night. You are.”

  Sharply exhaling, he said, “I should’ve known you’d make this hard.”

  “Again, Adam, all I’m doing is trying to get home to pack a few clothes. You should be doing the same, then asking your sister or Dad to pick up Ralphie. Now, would you mind letting me pass, or are you planning to tag along and deck yourself out in my jeans and T-shirts?”

  He shot her a look of utter disgust and stormed off toward his cubicle.

  She snatched her purse, then high-tailed it home for her last private breakdown before what was by no intention of her own about to become a very public relationship disaster.

  Early Friday evening, on the shore of a fir-lined, glassy lake far too idyllic for gunplay, Adam and the rest of the team stood outside Judge Norton’s fishing cabin—where he’d chosen to stay until his courtroom could be repaired following a fire set by the defendant’s pregnant wife, now in custody. From the file he’d read on the endless ride up, Adam learned local marshals had thought her incarceration would be the end of the judge’s threats, but the threats persisted, worsening in severity.

  “All right,” Caleb said to his five-man, one-woman team. “Sam, Bear, I want you two covering the first shift. Beau and I will back you up. Charity, Adam, you head to the judge’s guest cabin, which will be our base of operations. I want you two rested up for—”

  “But, Caleb,” Adam interjected, swatting at a pesky fly. “I’d feel more comfortable—”

  “Can it,” Caleb said. “Charity has the best night vision of any of us. You’ve got second best. Making you two my late-night team.”

  “But—”

  “Got a problem, little bro, take it up with Franks.”

  Oh, did Adam have problems. So many, he couldn’t begin to count. Lucky for him, he wouldn’t have had time even if he’d wanted to as Caleb gestured him and Bug to be on their way to the team’s temporary office.

  “Top or bottom?” Adam pointed to the single-room cabin’s bunk bed. When Bug kept her lips clamped shut, he repeated the question, then asked, “What do you want?”

  She shrugged. “I guess, top.”

  “Thought you liked bottom?”

  “Last time we got stuck with bunk beds,” she said, hefting her sole bag onto a chair she’d pushed alongside the bed, “I was on the bottom, and the top bunk kept creaking. That whole three weeks I had visions of the thing falling, flattening me like a pancake.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Adam kicked off his shoes before settling into his bunk. “I’d’ve traded.”

  Charity kept silent as she plucked off her black heels and suit coat. The short skirt had ridden up her thighs, and her light green blouse looked badly rumpled. Adam wished her windblown hair and weary expression turned him off, but if anything, it made Charity appear vulnerable. Making him want to tug her onto his bunk and into his arms.

  Of course, she was a far cry from vulnerable. As his brother had already pointed out, she boasted the best marksmanship scores of any of them. But knowing that didn’t stop his wanting. It didn’t fill the empty place in the pit of his stomach that’d been there ever since she’d booted him out of her home for the second time. Or was it the third?

  “You’re not planning on working this security detail in those kind of get-ups, are you?” he blurted. Because if she was, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to think of her strictly as a fellow agent and not as the woman he’d come damned close to sleeping with.

  “Get a brain,” she said sarcastically. She unzipped her suitcase, pulling out black jeans and a black sweatshirt. “I wouldn’t even be wearing it now if Franks had given us ample notice. I barely had time to pack.” She stood there with her clothes in her arms. “Do you mind?”

  “What?”

  “Looking away while I change?”

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before. Especially since you’ve been sleeping in that hot little Victoria’s Secret get-up.”

  “Nice.” Lips pursed, she padded off to the utilitarian bathroom, slamming the door.

  Hand to his forehead, Adam sighed.

  It was going to be a long night.

  After changing, Charity sat on the closed toilet seat, cradling her forehead in her hands. If she survived this assignment, however long it lasted, it’d be a miracle.

  “Bug?” Adam knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”

  “No. Just a minute, and it’ll be your turn.”

  “I don’t have to go,” he said. “I want to talk.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. In the history of the world, had any man ever made such an outrageous statement?

  The bathroom was so small that from her seat all she had to do was lean forward to open the door. “What?”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “No, I am. I’ve been too sensitive lately about a lot of things.”

  “Because of your womanly transformation?” he asked, catching her in the act of smoothing her hair.

  “No. I’m over that.” She made a face. “Not that I’m well and truly over it, but you know what I mean. I’ve got bigger issues.”

  “Like wanting to have kids.”

  “That’s one of them.”

  “What else?”

  She sighed. “Can we just call a truce and leave it at that?”

  “Sam being an ass? ’Cause if he isn’t treating you right, just say the word and I’ll—”

  Shaking her head, shooting Adam her most disgusted look, Charity stood, brushing by him on her way back to the cabin’s main room.

  He followed. “That’s it, isn’t it? He didn’t physically hurt you, did he? Or is he messing with your mind? Either way, I’ll—”

  “Stop!” she shrieked. “For the last time, Sam and I aren’t an item
. I don’t know who keeps putting that in your head.”

  “You don’t have to lie,” he said with a gentle touch of her shoulder. “Domestic abuse isn’t an easy issue, but together, we—”

  Hands over his flapping lips, she said, “Seriously, Adam. Sam isn’t the problem.”

  “Then what is it?” How was it when her chest was actually tight with fury for the man, his hot, moist breath made her fingers and stomach tingle?

  “You,” she blurted. “Okay? If you want the truth, my biggest problem in life is you.” There, she’d said it. It was out there for the whole world to hear. Adam was her world, only he was too blind to see it. What the two of them might share if he’d only take a few minuscule steps out of his past with a ghost lover for a glimpse into a brighter future with the living, breathing woman standing in front of him.

  “Me?” He laughed. Laughed! “I’m your biggest problem? That’s bogus. How can I be a problem? I’m your best friend.”

  Turning her back on him, she climbed the short ladder leading to her bunk. “Ex-best friend.”

  “You know, Bug,” he said a whole six inches from her head. Did he have to be so tall that her planned escape had only put her in an even more exasperating proximity? “I’m getting sick and tired of you always being grumpy with me when here I’ve been going out of my way to be nice. Hell, I even bought you a car, yet still, that’s not enough.”

  “I said, thank you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You owe me.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Maybe so, but—”

  The cabin’s screen door creaked open and Beau stepped inside. “Would you two knock off the verbal foreplay? We can hear you all the way over at the judge’s cabin.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Adam said.

  She rolled over and groaned.

  “Charity?” Beau asked. “You pack any of those Rice Krispies Treats cookie-bar things?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Boss didn’t leave much time for baking before we left town.”

  “S’okay.” He snatched a mini bag of chips from their meager supply box. “Hey, since you two obviously aren’t catching any z’s, how ’bout heading back to town for grub? Ever since I found out me and Gracie are pregnant, seems like I can’t get enough to eat.”