by Mary Stone
Without turning, she groped at the surface of the nightstand until she felt her smartphone. Squinting at the bright screen, she typed out a text message to ask if Noah was still awake.
His response was almost immediate. Unfortunately, yeah. I’m awake.
Winter pushed herself to sit. Was she really about to schedule a booty call? I can be there in a couple minutes??
In reply, he sent a couple smiling cat emojis.
After a languid stretch, Winter flicked off the lights, stepped into a pair of flip-flops, and grabbed her keys.
For the short walk to Noah’s apartment, she glanced around the shadowy parking lot. She was on the lookout for any anomaly, any person or vehicle that even seemed remotely like it didn’t belong.
But the scene was still.
Disgusted with herself, she raised a hand to rap her knuckles against the familiar door. After a light click, the door swung inward. Despite his disheveled hair and wrinkled t-shirt and gym shorts, Noah’s green eyes were alert. Apparently, Winter wasn’t the only one who had become paranoid.
With a slight smile, he stepped to the side so she could enter. “Hey.”
She returned the expression as well as she could manage. “Hey.”
A hint of concern flitted over his face as he closed and locked the door. “I heard about your interview with that detective, Tony Johansson.”
Winter blinked a couple times. She didn’t want to talk about work, but she could tell by the worry in his eyes that this was important. “What about it?”
Combing a hand through his hair, he shrugged. “Bobby was wondering about how you knew so much. Said he thought he must’ve missed something important since he stopped by his room to take a shower. I wasn’t really sure what the hell he was talking about, so I lied like a giant dog and told him that I’d told you about the 911 call and stuff.”
Winter’s mouth went dry. The pace of the investigation had been so chaotic, she’d been forced to give little consideration to the fallout after she’d spouted off about old cold cases during the interview with Tony Johansson. “Did he believe you? Did he say anything else?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah. He asked if we’d been looking through some murder case, a woman named Alena Chekhova? I just told him yes again.”
Rubbing her eyes with both hands, Winter heaved a sigh. “I’m so sorry you had to lie. That was close. During that interview I…I had a vision, I guess. But it wasn’t like the other ones. I didn’t pass out or anything, my head just hurt a little and I got a nosebleed. Although I’d gotten a glimpse of some of that information earlier, it was like what I’d seen had been imprinted in my mind.”
Noah snorted. “Wish I had that ability.”
She gave him a soft elbow to his ribs, then leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I could see all these names, all these dates and case numbers on a whiteboard in the Baltimore police precinct. And this woman, Alena, I saw her too. And as soon as I saw her, it was like I just knew what had happened to her.”
As he scratched his chin, Noah’s expression turned contemplative. “Damn, well. I guess that’s an improvement, right?”
Winter’s laugh sounded strained, but the tension melted from her tired muscles. “I’m so glad to see you right now.”
As a smile brightened his weary face, Winter thought she might weep tears of joy. The familiar sight was such a welcome reprieve from the darkness by which she’d been enveloped the last few days. Her heart felt lighter, and the tangled web of thoughts didn’t seem so unmanageable.
In terms of a relationship, she didn’t know what those feelings meant.
She didn’t know, but she knew she would be wise to welcome them.
Without thinking anymore about it, she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could manage. He wasted no time pulling her into a warm embrace. She took in the familiar scent of fabric softener and the faint, woodsy scent of his shampoo and conditioner.
As much as she wanted to tell him about the feelings his smile evoked, she wasn’t sure she had the energy for a grown-up discussion. The past week had been more than taxing, both physically and emotionally. For a little while, she just wanted to be happy.
“I missed you,” she murmured. The words were muffled from where she’d tucked her face into the crook of his neck.
“I missed you too, darlin’.” The bass in his voice reverberated against the side of her face.
Winter tightened her hold on him before she tilted her head back to peer up into his green eyes. As she traced the fingers of one hand down his scruffy cheek, the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smile.
She wanted those lips, and without the need for some rambling spiel beforehand, she felt that she could just be present. She could just enjoy his closeness.
Pulling his head down, she pressed her lips to his, and surrendered herself to the deliciousness of it.
When they separated, her smile came more easily. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
Lifting an eyebrow, he tilted his head in the direction of the television. “You thinking what I’m thinking? Supernatural marathon?”
She laughed and shook her head, her hands moving under the hem of his shirt. “No, that’s definitely not what I want to do with you. If that’s all you want to do, then I’ll be fine with it. But…” she swept her hands over his warm skin, “I was hoping we could do that thing we did the other night.” She moved until she was straddling him and leaned in to kiss his throat. “You know the one, right?”
“No idea.” He pulled her tighter against him, feeling the heat of her through their clothes. “Guess you’ll have to enlighten me.”
Circling an arm around his shoulders, she tilted her head for another drawn-out kiss. “I’d be more than happy to enlighten you.”
39
When Winter woke beside Noah the next morning, she was certain there was no possible way the day could be bad. Though they had to go to work, there wasn’t a pressing issue that required they show up at the butt crack of dawn. They had paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork waiting for them once they walked through the doors of the Richmond field office.
For what might have been the first time in her FBI career, Winter wasn’t bothered by the idea that she would spend the majority of her day behind the screen of her computer. She needed a damn break.
Since there was no apocalypse level event waiting for them that morning, Winter opted to take a shower with Noah. Unsurprisingly, one thing led to another, and they barely made it out before the water turned cold.
With the soreness in her thighs renewed, she pulled on her leggings and t-shirt to make her way back to her apartment. Once she was dressed for work, their morning routine played out much as it did every morning. On the way to the office, they swung through the drive-thru of a local coffee shop and ordered two seasonal lattes.
Though they hadn’t hurried, they still arrived at the office before eight.
As they neared the Violent Crimes section of the building, Winter was surprised to see Bobby Weyrick leaned back in a chair. He’d flipped his tie up to cover his eyes, and until he reached to lift the blue fabric, she thought he was asleep.
“Morning.” Bobby ended the greeting by stifling a yawn.
“Weren’t you supposed to be out of here, like, two hours ago?” Winter lifted an eyebrow to fix him with a curious look.
Bobby nodded. “Something like that, yeah. Come on, y’all. Walk with me, talk with me.”
Noah’s brows drew together. “About what?”
“I sent you each a text message about this, so if you’re surprised, it’s on you.” He held up his hands and offered them an exaggerated shrug.
“Surprised?” Winter echoed, a feeling of dread pressing down on her.
“I’ve been waiting for you guys to get here. Since, you know, you didn’t respond to my text. Someone had to keep an eye on the place and make sure the dude didn’t sweet-talk his way straight on out of the damn building. I
didn’t work that case, but I’ve heard stories.” He flashed her a matter-of-fact look and waved a finger.
Noah gave him a wary glance, clearly as disconcerted as Winter felt. “You need to go to sleep, don’t you?”
“Dude. You have no idea.” With a sigh, Bobby raked the fingers of one hand through his dark blond hair. “I’ve been awake for twenty-four hours, but no. I’m serious. Y’all have a visitor. Well, Agent Black, you have a visitor. He asked for you specifically, but I’m sure he’d be happy to see Dalton here too.”
Winter’s heart leapt into her throat. After all the hours they’d poured into making phone calls, interviewing potential leads, and sifting through one database after another, had he finally come to them? Had Justin shown up at the FBI office to seek out her help?
She swallowed the sudden rush of excitement. No, Bobby would have called her hours ago if the visitor was her brother. Aiden and Max would be here, and so would Bree and even Autumn.
“Who?” she finally asked.
Throwing up his hands, Bobby paused in the hallway. “You neither one seriously looked at my text, did you?”
As she sipped at her latte, Winter shrugged. “Apparently not.” Her anxiety was ratcheting up by degrees. If the agent mentioned Justin’s name, she was quite sure she might pass out at his feet.
“Your visitor is Ryan O’Connelly.”
Winter almost swayed on her feet anyway.
No, the visitor wasn’t her long-lost brother, but this one was certainly a blast from the not so distant past.
“Son of a bitch,” Noah muttered, his eyes as wide as hers felt.
They both knew the name very well. Ryan had been one of a pair of masterminds intent on replicating the highest-profile heists of the twentieth century earlier that year. But Ryan had managed to slip away like a ghost, and Winter’d envisioned the man sipping fruity cocktails on some exotic beach for the rest of his life.
So, why was he here now?
It made no sense.
The glint of amusement fell away, and Bobby’s gaze was steely. “He’s got something. From the way he tells it, he’s been slinking around a group of aristocrats, and they’ve got more than a few skeletons in their closets. There’ve been a handful of girls around town that’ve gone missing lately, and he says he’s pretty sure he can help figure out who’s been abducting them.”
Even once he finished, Bobby’s shoulders were still tense, his countenance grim.
“What else?” Winter asked. She knew he hadn’t yet told her everything.
“He’s got news about, well, something he stumbled across. Something about Kent Strickland and Tyler Haldane.”
Tyler Haldane and Kent Strickland. The two shooters who had killed thirteen people at a shopping mall in Danville, Virginia.
The mass shooting that had occurred on the same night Douglas Kilroy met his end.
The same mass shooting for which Bobby Weyrick and Sun Ming had been on the front lines.
Winter swallowed against the sudden bitterness on her tongue. “Okay,” she managed. “Let’s see what he’s got.”
The End
To be continued…
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Winter Black Series by Mary Stone
Winter’s Mourn (Winter Black Series: Book One)
Winter’s Curse (Winter Black Series: Book Two)
Winter’s Redemption (Winter Black Series: Book Three)
Winter’s Rise (Winter Black Series: Book Four)
Winter’s Ghost (Winter Black Series: Book Five)
Acknowledgments
How does one properly thank everyone involved in taking a dream and making it a reality? Let me try.
In addition to my family, whose unending support provided the foundation for me to find the time and energy to put these thoughts on paper, I want to thank the editors who polished my words and made them shine.
Many thanks to my publisher for risking taking on a newbie and giving me the confidence to become a bona fide author.
More than anyone, I want to thank you, my reader, for clicking on a nobody and sharing your most important asset, your time, with this book. I hope with all my heart I made it worthwhile.
Much love,
Mary
About the Author
Mary Stone lives among the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains of East Tennessee with her two dogs, four cats, a couple of energetic boys, and a very patient husband.
As a young girl, she would go to bed every night, wondering what type of creature might be lurking underneath. It wasn’t until she was older that she learned that the creatures she needed to most fear were human.
Today, she creates vivid stories with courageous, strong heroines and dastardly villains. She invites you to enter her world of serial killers, FBI agents but never damsels in distress. Her female characters can handle themselves, going toe-to-toe with any male character, protagonist or antagonist.
Discover more about Mary Stone on her website.
www.authormarystone.com