by LENA DIAZ,
“Can I see that a second?” Ian pulled out his cell phone. “I’m the one who discovered it. I’d like a picture. It could help me with the investigation instead of waiting for the card to be processed.”
The tech hesitated.
“Just hold it up,” Ian said. “I won’t touch the bag. No evidence chain of custody wrinkles here, okay?”
The man held it up, not looking happy about it.
Ian snapped a picture. “Thanks. Appreciate it.” He turned to leave.
“Hey,” the tech called out. “Don’t you want a picture of the writing on the other side too?”
Ian slowly turned around. “There’s writing on the back?”
The tech flipped it over. “Looks like it’s addressed to somebody.”
Ian’s entire body went cold when he saw what was written there. He snapped the picture and kept his expression carefully blank. “Thanks. Does anyone else know about the writing on the back?”
He shrugged. “I doubt it. I’m pretty sure I was the first person to pick it up so it could be preserved for fingerprint analysis and testing of trace.”
“No problem,” Ian said, as if he was disappointed that the tech hadn’t told anyone about it. “If you don’t mind, I’ll let the bosses know so they don’t have to wait for processing. Is that okay?”
“Of course. It will save me the trouble of doing it. Thanks, Special Agent...um—”
“Savage.” Ian nodded instead of offering to shake hands since the tech was still wearing gloves. The tech introduced himself, and Ian thanked him again for his assistance, then headed outside.
His boss was waiting for him when he reached the truck.
Nash frowned. “What were you doing inside?”
“Looking to see if anything useful was missed.”
“Did you find anything?”
Ian shook his head. “Nope. What’s our next step with the investigation?”
Nash snorted. “What investigation? It was all caught on camera. You were the inside guy to lure our traffickers into the open. That’s all shot to heck now. We have nothing.”
“We have suspects—Butch and his henchmen. We know they’ve been trafficking women. We just need proof.”
“And how do you propose to get that now? It’s over, Ian. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. This one is a dead end. The bad guy is long gone—”
“We don’t know that. Yes, my cover’s blown. But Butch could still be doing business here and looking for a new buyer. We can’t give up. We need to keep digging, do some old-fashioned investigative work, maybe try to get another agent snooping around town undercover, posing as a buyer. We can’t just wash our hands of this now. What will happen to those women? We have to keep working.”
“We aren’t doing anything on this. I’ll evaluate what happened here tonight and figure out what, if anything, will be done. But I’m pulling most of the agents and sending them on other more promising cases. I’ll keep a skeleton staff in town in case something else pops up. But if nothing does, we’re out of here in the next few days.”
“Nash, don’t do this. Keep everyone on the case. We have to find where Butch is holding those women. Victims first, remember?”
Nash’s face reddened. “I don’t need you to keep reminding me about my job, Ian. This whole evening is a blight on both agencies. Ellison is all over me for not putting things on hold like we’d originally agreed. He insists that if we had, we could have had enough time to adequately plan the buy and nab these guys instead of the screwed-up situation at the last minute like we did today. And I can’t even tell him he’s wrong.”
Ian started to argue, but Nash shook his head. “No. Not another word. Consider yourself on administrative leave for the next week. Make that two weeks. When you come back, I want your head on straight.” He motioned toward the patrol car where Shannon was watching them through the back window. “And do something about Miss Murphy. I don’t want her popping up in the middle of something if we do end up figuring out a way to salvage this mess.”
Nash didn’t give him a chance to argue further. He strode back to where the ADA and Chief Thomas were standing with some of the uniformed officers.
Ian stood there, mulling over what to do. He could try to argue with his boss again, but he didn’t think it would do any good. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to argue with him anyway, in light of what had been written on the back of the index card. He needed to think about his options and what to do next.
He glanced at the patrol car. Shannon looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. He let out a deep breath and pulled out his phone to bring up the picture of the card. He read the front, then flipped to the picture of the back. It contained six words.
For Homeland Security Agent Ian McKenzie.
Those six words, unbeknownst to the technician who’d collected the index card, canceled out everything written on the front. Those words meant that Butch had known that Ian was with Homeland Security, even before the swarm of cops and special agents descended on the warehouse. It was one thing for Butch to suspect he might be a cop. But Ian had made sure that only a few people had known that he was a special agent. That index card could only mean one thing.
Someone in law enforcement had tipped off Butch and his men, someone who knew that Ian worked for Homeland Security.
Chapter Thirteen
Ian pulled up his Charger in front of a small, remote mountainside hotel that looked down on the night lights of Gatlinburg.
In the passenger seat, Shannon stared mutinously ahead, arms crossed. “I’ve been safe at the duplex all these months that you’ve been living your double life. I still don’t get why you suddenly think I’m in danger, especially since you said Butch and the others have most likely left town by now.”
“Guys like him are unpredictable.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s angry. Whatever.”
He sighed. “Shannon, it’s more serious than him simply being angry. He was expecting a big paycheck in exchange for off-loading what he calls inventory. Now he knows that Homeland Security and the local police are working together, looking for him. The heat is on, and he can’t move easily with that many women in tow. It makes him vulnerable. He might even have to lie low here in town while he waits for things to cool down. That will cost him money. He’ll blame me for that. He knows where I’ve been living. And Wolverine showed some interest in you the other day. He may decide to take revenge on me by hurting you.”
“And that’s why you had that other agent spying on me.”
He dropped his hands to his lap. “Yes. As I already said, that’s why Chris was there. Not that it did any good. You managed to slip right past him. Which is why I’m not taking you back there. Too many entrances and exits to watch. It’s not safe.”
“Right. Like you care.” She shoved open the car door.
He reached across her and yanked the door shut. He was just inches from her face as she stared at him with her accusing green eyes.
“I do care, Shannon, or I wouldn’t have put up with all of the cursing and hateful things you’ve been saying to me since I got you out of the patrol car.”
She arched a brow. “You wouldn’t have put up with it? What’s that mean? You gonna hit me to prove how big and strong you are? Cop?”
He stared at her in shock. “You think I would hit you?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time some guy I was hanging with beat the crap out of me.”
“Then you’ve been hanging with the wrong men. I will never, ever hurt you. Never.”
She stared at him, a disbelieving look on her face. “Right. You’ll just take me prisoner instead. Isn’t that called kidnapping or something? It’s against the law. But I guess your fellow law enforcement buddies will cover for you. They always cover for each other, the brotherhood in blue.”
“Good grief. You sure hav
e a low opinion of me. Did I earn that tonight—because I wanted to protect you? Or have you felt that way a long time and have just done a really great job of hiding your true feelings?”
Her eyes widened. Then she quickly looked away, her mouth drawn into a tight line.
He let go of the door and sat back, but anchored her wrist with his hand before she could jump out of the car. “I didn’t kidnap you. It’s called protective custody. Whether you choose to believe it or not, there’s a good possibility that your life is in danger. Until Butch and his men are caught, or I have definitive proof that they’ve left the area, you’re staying with me. Unless you prefer a jail cell. Those are your choices.”
“That’s the second time you’ve threatened to lock me up tonight. You getting kinky on me, Ian McKenzie?” She wiggled her brows, but the flash of anger in her eyes told the real story.
He shoved out of the car. It was either that or yell at her. Of all the lines that he’d crossed in his youthful rebel days, or even deep undercover pretending to be a thug, yelling at a woman—or worse—was a line he refused to cross.
He grabbed the small duffel bag from the back seat that Special Agent Chris Parker had brought to him from the duplex. A policewoman had packed items for Shannon while Chris had packed for Ian.
He settled the bag’s strap over his shoulder and headed to the passenger side. For someone who’d been so adamant about getting out of the car earlier, Shannon seemed in no hurry to emerge now. He opened the door and stood back. “You coming, or are we driving to Gatlinburg PD?”
“If you give me my gun back, I can protect myself at the duplex.”
“Not happening.”
She rolled her eyes and got out.
Once they were inside their hotel suite she flounced into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Ian’s shoulders slumped. He set the duffel bag on the little café table, took out his toothbrush and toothpaste and headed to the kitchenette in the corner. After changing into some warm-up pants and a T-shirt, he set the duffel bag outside the bedroom door.
“Shannon?” He waited, then rapped on the door. “Shannon, I’ve set the bag outside the door in case you need anything—”
The door opened. She grabbed the bag, then slammed the door closed.
He stared at the closed door for several long moments. But there wasn’t anything he could think of to say that would make her overlook his biggest sin—that he was in law enforcement.
After making sure the locks were secure on the back window and only door into the suite, he checked the entry closet, hoping to find an extra pillow and a blanket. The closet was empty. He looked back at the couch, which was about two feet too short for him, then at the closed bedroom door. Sighing, he padded to the couch, lay down and drew his knees up against his chest.
Chapter Fourteen
Sleep was elusive for Shannon. She dozed off and on, but a combination of things kept waking her up. Not the least of which was guilt. She’d been awful to Ian. Her frustration and worry over her friend Maria, and her resentment at being forced to do something she didn’t want to do, had her reverting to the smart-ass tough-girl persona she’d adopted in order to survive on the streets. But no matter how mean she was, and how angry Ian became, he’d been true to his word.
He hadn’t hurt her.
And even though his high-handed insistence on taking her into protective custody had her panicking at the thought of giving control over to a man—any man—he’d proved time and again that he was only trying to help.
She’d seen the flash of regret on his face each time he’d forced her to do something she didn’t want to do. And now that some time had passed, the panic and anger had faded enough for her to realize the truth. Ian didn’t want to control her or force his will on her. He didn’t want to hurt her and make her feel uncomfortable. He wanted only one thing—for her to be safe. And what had she done in return? She hadn’t thanked him. Instead, she’d made every minute of the car ride—from the warehouse to the meeting with Chris to get the duffel bag and then finally to the hotel—a living hell for him.
And he didn’t deserve that.
She sat up in the bed and threw off the covers. She’d finally met the genuinely nice, smart, sexy, sweet and protective man that she’d prayed would come into her life one day. And she’d done everything she could to turn him against her.
She was such an idiot.
She shuffled into the bathroom and freshened up. When she checked the time on her phone, she saw it was almost three in the morning. There was a light shining beneath the bedroom door. Maybe Ian was having trouble sleeping too. She owed him a huge apology. Might as well take care of it right now.
She pulled open the bedroom door, then felt lower than the lowest pond scum. There was big, brawny Ian looking like a pretzel, his long legs practically touching his chin on the short couch. She hadn’t given a single thought to whether the furniture would accommodate his size before taking the king bed for herself. And since she’d shut the door that accessed the bathroom, he’d either been forced to go to the lobby to use their facilities, or hold it. Good grief, she was such a jerk. If he ever spoke to her again, it would be a miracle.
She knelt beside the couch and gently shook him.
His eyes flew open and he grabbed her, yanking her to the floor, crushing her beneath him as he swept his pistol back and forth toward the room around them. “What is it?” he demanded. “What happened?”
“Ian, it’s just me.” Her voice came out a harsh croak. She cleared her throat. “There’s no one else here.”
He frowned and looked down at her. “You’re okay?”
She pressed shaking hands against his chest, an unexpected rush of tears clogging her throat. After everything she’d done, he was shielding her with his body, thinking someone was there to hurt her. He was willing to give his life for hers. The enormity of that knowledge had the tears flowing down her cheeks.
He shoved his pistol back into the holster and pulled her up with him, his concerned gaze searching hers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Frighten me?” She laughed and wiped her tears. “You scared me nearly to death. But that’s not why I’m crying. You shielded me with your body, trying to protect me, even after how badly I treated you.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you hit your head?”
She laughed again. “No. I mean yes, I’m okay. I didn’t...” She shook her head. “I’m fine. But you’re not.” She swept her hand toward the couch. “You shouldn’t have let me keep the bedroom. This couch is way too small for you. And I was too stubborn and selfish to even think about that when I had my temper tantrum and went into the bedroom.”
She grabbed his hand. When he winced, she let go, realizing she’d grabbed his left hand. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. I forgot about your arm. Have you taken anything for the pain?”
He frowned. “I’m fine, Shannon. And I’m okay sleeping on the couch. Although if you have an extra pillow, I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“A pillow. Of course.” She grabbed his other hand this time and tugged him toward the bedroom.
“Shannon—”
She pulled him into the bedroom. “Here you go. Four pillows, two for each of us. Plenty of room.”
He stopped beside the bed and tugged his hand free. “Are you sleepwalking or something?” He waved a hand in front of her face.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t sleepwalk.”
He glanced around the room. “Drunk, then? Did you hit the minibar?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not asleep and I’m not drunk. I’m trying to be nice here.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s the part that has me confused. I thought you hated me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“There we go. Th
at’s more like it.” He grabbed a couple of pillows. “I’ll be leaving now.”
She stepped in his path, blocking his way to the door.
“Shannon?”
“Yes, Ian?”
“It’s really late, or early by now. I could use a few more hours of sleep.”
His eyes dipped down, then back up so fast she almost missed it. She was wearing a short nightshirt that barely fell below her hips. With no bra. And the bead of sweat trickling down the side of his neck told her he’d definitely noticed.
She took a step forward, her breasts pressing against his chest.
He swallowed, his gaze glued to hers. “Um, Shannon?”
“Yes, Ian?” She slid her arms up his biceps and locked her fingers behind his neck.
“I’m getting mixed signals here. Do you still, ah, hate me?”
She slowly shook her head. “I was mad, Ian. But I could never hate you. And I’m way past the mad stage. That’s behind us now.” She stroked the back of his neck.
He shuddered and briefly closed his eyes. “You know I’m still a cop, a special agent.”
“That’s your biggest flaw. I’ve decided to look past it.” She stroked his neck again.
He stumbled, then swore and pulled her arms down from behind his neck. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You’re either overwrought or overtired or... Heck, I don’t know. But you’ll end up hating me later. Because that big flaw of mine is the core of who I am. Either you’re okay with me being in law enforcement or you’re not. Either you hate me or you don’t. When you get it figured out, let me know. Until then, I think it’s best that the door stays closed with you on one side and me on the other. It’s safer. For both of us.” He practically ran from the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
Ian shoved the last of their breakfast trash into the garbage can beneath the kitchenette sink. The restaurant down the street that delivered to the tourist-rentals and hotels up this mountain had brought a delicious assortment of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and even oatmeal and fruit. But it had proved to be a waste. Neither of them seemed to have an appetite. And Shannon couldn’t seem to even look at him since coming out of the bedroom this morning.