Yeah, they had. She looked up at his smooth shaven face, one she’d once thought was so handsome, and just felt sorrow for the time she’d wasted. “I’m not the nice person you thought I was, so let’s leave it at that. I’m happy to forgive you for cheating on me, but we’re over.” There weren’t many other ways to say those words. Plus, considering she now very publicly had a fiancé, Carl was only going to get in the way.
He tightened his hold until she had to bite back a wince from the pain. “Let go of me,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
His expression remained concerned, but he leaned in until his face was an inch from hers. “I’m in trouble, and I need your help.” Desperation darkened his eyes.
She frowned. “Trouble?”
“Yeah. Cathryn has filed a complaint with the dean.”
“Oh.” Anya pursed her lips, her attention already moving back to the serial killer case. “It’s a mistake to sleep with a student, Carl.”
“One mistake,” he almost whined.
What a jackass. She had to keep him from causing a scene. Agents and reporters were everywhere.
She shook her head. “You made your bed, buddy.”
“Please, just tell the dean that she’s lying.” He leaned in, his gaze intense.
“Excuse me.” Without warning, a rough hand ripped Carl’s grip away and then a muscled body stepped between them.
She swallowed. “Heath?” she whispered. Where had he come from? How had he moved so quickly? Glancing around, she took in several FBI agents suddenly looking her way. Oh man, she had to control this. She grasped Heath’s arm and tugged him to her side while plastering on a small smile. “Everyone is looking.”
Heath slid an arm around her shoulders and faced Carl directly, although Heath had at least four inches on the professor. “You touch her again and you lose a hand.” His voice was low and rough while a tension all but rolled off him that stopped Anya’s breath completely.
Carl looked down at Anya, his face turning red. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“I’d like an answer to that question as well.” Reese was immediately there, with Dingman right behind him. “Who are you people?”
Anya tried to answer, to defuse the situation, but Carl talked quickly. “I’m Professor Carl Sparks, and I was dating Anya until very recently.”
“I see.” Reese stepped even closer. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve been meaning to discuss Special Agent Jackson’s visit to you.”
Carl paled.
Anya coughed. Apparently Loretta had informed Reese but not her about the little visit. God, she missed her sister.
Reese turned on Heath. “And you?”
Anya swallowed and tried unsuccessfully to step free of Heath’s protective hold. “Well, he’s, ah . . .”
Heath smiled, showing none of the tension he was communicating to Anya with his body. “I’m Heath Jones. Anya’s fiancé.”
Heath ignored the itch between his shoulder blades that warned of imminent trouble—he’d already jumped into the boiling pot of water. He’d avoided the law for more than fifteen years, and now here he was, surrounded by FBI agents.
All because one tiny redhead had looked frightened for a moment.
He’d seen the guy grab her, and he’d noticed the tightening around her eyes. At that point, the confrontation had become inevitable. For goodness’ sake, he was the calm brother. Ryker and Denver would be pacing with concern. Especially if they had just watched the train wreck Anya had created on the news.
He’d deal with her next.
For now, the agent staring at him so directly needed to be defused. Heath forced his most charming smile. “You must be Special Agent Frederick Reese. My Anya has told me all about you.”
She stiffened slightly beneath his arm at the possessive tone, so he pulled her into his warmth for effect. The woman had brought him into this mess and could just play along. Plus, even through his jacket he could feel the chill from her coat. She needed a thicker coat. He held out his other hand for the agent. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Frederick Reese had a strong hand and firm handshake. He held on a second too long, his gaze piercing and seeking. “I’d like to interview you about Loretta if you don’t mind.”
“Any time,” Heath said smoothly. “We formed a friendship while exchanging information about this case during the last several months. I respected her greatly.” Too bad Ryker wasn’t dealing with this agent—he was the most cop-like of them. At least it wasn’t Denver caught in this disaster. “She was a hell of an agent.”
“She was,” Reese said, emotion in his tone he tried to hide.
Ah. Was it personal? Either way, they had been partners. Heath lost his smile. “She seemed very dedicated, and I admired her upon meeting her.”
Reese nodded. “Agreed. So you discussed the case?”
Heath slid his hand down Anya’s arm, pushing snow off her soft coat. “Yes, and we sort of bonded over rotten coffee. Her mind was amazing. I was hired by the family of the fourth victim to find her, and I crossed paths with Special Agent Jackson. She was open-minded enough to work with a private detective, and she was determined to find the killer. To bring him to justice. She was my friend.” The words were true, and his gut ached. She should still be alive.
Reese’s face cleared. “She was a good friend to many.”
Had the guy been afraid he and Loretta had gotten busy? Heath turned his head to press a kiss to Anya’s temple to dispel any such fear.
Anya sucked in air.
Heath fought an inappropriate grin at her discomfort. She had no clue what she’d unleashed.
The blond frowned. “I’m Carl. Up until recently, Anya and I were dating.”
Heath gave the man his best You’re about to get your ass kicked look and then smiled. “Anya and I dated last year and broke up. My fault. I wasn’t ready for a commitment, realized my mistake, and have been working hard to win her back.”
“You cheated on me?” Carl hissed.
The FBI agent watched the exchange with sharp eyes.
“No,” Anya said, pressing her hand to Heath’s chest. “Heath and I have been talking only. After I discovered you in bed with a student, he, ah, found me and we decided we belong together.”
What? Heath burst out with a short laugh and then remembered he should probably already know about the situation, considering he was her fiancé. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to cheat on a woman like this.”
Anya smiled up at him.
Carl took a step toward her, and Heath reacted, instantly setting the redhead behind him. “Put your hands on me, asshole. Try it.”
The agent moved between them, facing Heath. “I’d like to interview you tomorrow in my office. Where are you staying tonight?”
“The Morningstar,” Heath said smoothly. Well, he was now.
“Excellent. Be at FBI headquarters at nine in the morning. Are you capable of keeping Anya safe for the night?” Reese asked.
“I can keep myself safe.” Anya grabbed Heath’s coat from behind.
Heath kept the agent’s gaze. “Yes. She’ll be safe tonight.”
“Good. We’ll talk long term tomorrow if I don’t arrest you,” the agent said.
Anya moved to stand at Heath’s side. “Why would you arrest him?”
“We’ll see.” Reese’s gaze encompassed them all.
“When are you returning to Snowville?” Anya asked.
Reese shook his head. “Shortly.” He gave Heath a hard look. “It’s a bit of a coincidence that you just opened up an office there. You need to be interviewed, Mr. Jones, and then I want you to stay out of my way. Leave the case to the FBI.”
Heath smiled. “No problem.”
Reese pivoted. “Mr. Sparks? I think I’ll interview you tonight. Morons who sleep with students don’t get leeway with me.” He pierced Carl with a hard stare. “I already know the story, and you’re lucky the student was of age.”
Anya sho
ved forward. “Reese, really. He’s not—”
A snarl erupted from Heath’s mouth, and the woman fell silent. He turned on her, keeping his hands to himself. “Don’t even think of helping this jerk out.” Any man who’d caused her pain should be dropped to the bottom of a very deep well.
She narrowed her gaze.
Ah hell. They needed to get a couple of things straight and right now.
The agent paused. “Anya? You’re free to come with me tonight. I’ll keep you safe.” He turned a glare on Heath.
Heath shook his head. “I’m a total dick, but I’d never physically harm a woman.” He paused. “Or emotionally or psychologically. Never.”
The agent leaned in. “See that you don’t.”
Heath grinned. “You’re a decent guy, Reese.”
The man’s expression didn’t waver.
Anya partially moved in front of Heath, and he let her since her ex was still behind the agent and couldn’t reach for her. “It’s okay, Reese. I’m fine, and I’ll accompany Heath to the FBI offices tomorrow. I hope we can work together in Snowville, or at the very least I hope you keep me informed. Get some sleep tonight.” She placed what appeared to be a gentle hand on the agent’s forearm.
Reese’s nostrils flared and he lowered his voice. “You know we’ll work together. Your insight and profile has been invaluable. We need to go through all of your files again.”
“Definitely,” Anya said.
Heath drew in air. Unable to stop himself, he lifted her thick hair away from her collar and wiped off the snow before it could slide beneath her coat—acting like a fiancé. He’d wanted to touch her hair since the first time he’d met her, and she’d given him very public permission to do just that. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
She allowed him to turn her.
He took her hand and walked partially in front of her. She’d put herself into the line of fire with the news cameras. While the killer would never come at her head-on, Heath couldn’t help but provide a shield.
Every instinct in his body flared alive. She was dangerous to him, and he knew it. Not only was she beautiful, she was fragile and so determined to find justice. He was more than aware of his trigger points, and she hit them all. Plus, the sensual tilt of her lips had provided more than one wild dream for him since he’d met her.
How fucked up was that?
He kept his hold gentle but firm, guiding her toward the SUV he’d left at the curb. Good thing he’d rented this one under the Lost Bastards account and not stolen it, considering Agent Frederick Reese was already copying down the license plate number. Without a word, Heath helped her into the passenger side, then rounded the vehicle to slip in and start the engine.
Slowly, he pulled away from the curb.
Her scent of strawberries filled the interior and nearly made him groan. Even though the engagement was fake, there was something about having somebody—a woman—that appealed to him. This woman. This strong, smart, and savvy woman, who so did not trust him. What would it be like to have her to call his own? To earn her trust? His jeans tightened, and he started to recite basketball stats in his head.
Anya cleared her throat. “I’m staying at the hotel at the corner of First and Hanover.”
“Put on your seat belt.” He maneuvered out of the cemetery and turned toward Virginia.
She fumbled but did as he said. “Did you hear me?”
He turned then and took her in. Wide green eyes, rioting red hair, pale skin with faded bruises. Small and fragile . . . and she’d just challenged a deranged serial killer on national television. Anger and a desperate need to protect her rose hard and fast inside him. “Oh, I heard you, sweetheart. As my fiancée, you’re not going anywhere by yourself until this guy is caught. Period.”
CHAPTER
8
Anya stared at the male predator holding her gaze so directly. Okay. So she’d chosen the most dangerous guy she’d ever met to stand in as her fiancé—and one who would definitely anger the serial killer by just looking manly. Yeah, part of that had been self-preservation, and Loretta had trusted the guy. Yet Anya hadn’t given him a choice, now, had she? “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
One of his dark eyebrows rose.
Her eyes teared up, and she couldn’t hold his gaze. She brushed snow off her legs to the floor, watching the white fall and melt almost instantly. “I just did what I thought I could to catch the guy who murdered my sister. Not once did I consider what it would mean to you.” Guilt heated inside her as she realized she would’ve done it anyway. “I’m sorry.”
“Jesus.” He turned back to the snowy road outside the windshield. “Don’t start being sweet now.”
She looked at him again. In profile, his face was sharp angles and hard lines. “I’m not. It’s just, I had an idea, and I ran with it. I’ve studied killers, and I think I know how this one thinks. He hurt my sister, Heath.” Her voice broke. “I got her involved.”
He turned toward her. “About that. What don’t I know, Anya?”
She blinked.
“The things you said to him. About him courting you . . . What has the FBI kept out of the news?”
Heath was no dummy. Anya bit her lip. “The killer is focused on me and has been since the beginning. He sends me a letter after each kill.”
“You’ve been his focus since the beginning?” Heath turned back to the road, his shoulders looking tight. Tension rolled through the vehicle. “So you called your sister?”
“Yes.” Pain flushed through her, pricking every nerve. “I got her killed.”
“No. A psycho killed her,” Heath said, reaching out to press his hand over hers. “Not your fault, Anya.”
Yet it was. “She was my sister, and I owe her. I can’t sleep until we catch her killer.”
“Agreed.” His shoulders slowly relaxed beneath the worn leather jacket. “I have two brothers, and if anything happened to either one of them, I’d lose my fuckin’ mind. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save them, and if I couldn’t, nothing would stop me from seeking vengeance.”
“Are these genetic brothers or the ones who probably have matching scars on their hands?” She hadn’t been able to get his hand out of her head. That scar he’d shown her had provided insight into him, and she wanted more.
“Those two are blood brothers. But I do have a genetic one,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “He’s a good guy. Just met him.”
There were more out there like him? He was being incredibly fair, to see her side and admit his own motivations in life. “Man, you guys hit the genetic jackpot.”
He barked out a laugh. “Oh, darlin’. You have no idea.”
What did that mean? “So you’ll help me and pretend to be my fiancé?”
He tilted his head and blew out air. “I promise I’ll hunt this guy down no matter how long it takes.”
She stiffened and leaned back against the leather seat. “That wasn’t an answer.”
He looked her way again, his eyes a startling green and brown tinged with goldish flecks. “It was an answer—just not the one you wanted.”
The snow thickened outside, lending a sense of intimacy to the vehicle. His natural masculine scent filled the cab, and her body softened. She studied his implacable face—where there was no softness. “If you want in on this case, you have to work with me. Also, do you know where I can get a gun?” She should’ve gotten one in the Pacific Northwest.
“No. How about we make a deal? I’ll send you to an incredibly safe place for a while, and then I’ll find this guy. I promise.” Heath turned back to the icy road.
She sighed. “I’m not weak, Heath. I’ve been assisting the FBI with a profile, and I can get into this guy’s mind.”
He leaned his head back. “Why me?” he asked quietly.
She blinked. “Huh?”
“Why did you choose me as your fiancé? You had the agent and maybe even your ex to choose from. He’s not in law enforcement, but as a professor, he is an auth
ority figure. Does he also teach psychology?”
“Yes,” Anya said. “Abnormal psych.” How perfect was that? “The jerk.”
Heath kept his hands light on the wheel, but every line of his hard body showed capability and command.
She swallowed and ignored the warming of her abdomen. She had to stop looking at those hands. He’d shown her honesty, and she owed him the same thing. “Well, everyone in the FBI would’ve known I wasn’t Reese’s fiancée. Plus, I think he could’ve had me arrested or put somewhere for impeding an investigation or something like that—if he knew for sure I was lying.” Reese would’ve done it to keep her safe for Loretta’s sake.
“And the ex?” Heath’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“Not a chance.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t trust him, and I don’t think he’d be a match for this killer anyway.”
“You’re done with him?”
“Definitely.” She slowly turned her torso toward Heath and dug into his mind. Oh, he was definitely living in the gray area, and he wasn’t telling her much about himself. Yet there was a hint of sweetness in him, the promise that he’d die to protect somebody he perceived as weaker than him. “Please work with me.”
He sighed. “You’re killing me here.”
Yeah, he definitely had trouble saying no to somebody asking for his help. She should feel badly about manipulating him, but this was too important. “I’m sorry. But I can handle this. I’m not weak or breakable, Heath. You and I can do this.” She looked at him beneath her lashes.
He switched on the heater. “You’re definitely breakable. Don’t charge into danger without knowing that one fact.” His low rumble filled the vehicle and then zinged right through her body.
She shifted her weight on the seat. Was he warning her about the case or about himself? Why did this guy intrigue her so? That was the other reason she’d chosen him for her fake fiancé, and she was aware enough to admit it to herself. She’d wanted to see Heath Jones again. “I suppose from an analytical standpoint, we’re all breakable.”
Lethal Lies Page 7