Unafraid

by Allie Harrison

  “Are you okay, Charlie?” John asked from the bottom, looking up.

  “Yes, I just wanted to say good night. I’m hitting the sack early since I have an early class tomorrow. You don’t happen to have any more news on Sarah, do you?”

  “No, not yet. I have Virgil on it, and we should hear something soon.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Dad. Good night.”

  “Good night, Son.”

  Monty and Abigail echoed John’s good night to him.

  “It’s nice to see you, Abigail,” Charlie said before he moved away.

  She thought there might have been some hidden meaning in his words. It’s nice to see you with my dad. It’s nice to see you in our house.

  But maybe she was trying to read too much into it. Besides, she was still working to grip all the equipment she saw in the basement. It was something she thought only happened in movies.

  “Abigail.” It was John who grabbed her attention again.

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s just say I work in security.”

  She looked around again. “I’d say that’s an understatement.”

  He laughed.

  She noticed that Monty looked at him quizzically. “Perhaps it is. But the less you know the better. I know Monty is thinking I shouldn’t even have shown you this much. But here’s the deal. Too little information could put you in danger, could put us all in danger. That’s why I’m showing you this. I need for you to trust me.”

  “Okay.” She stepped down another two stairs, almost at the bottom.

  “We monitor people.”

  “Illegally?”

  “If necessary.”

  At the word monitor, she glanced at the monitors that lined the wall above the counter desk where Monty sat. One of the monitors caught her eye. A man in a prison jumpsuit sat on a bunk in a cell.

  She recognized him. “The guy from the news…who robbed the banks.” she muttered more to herself than to him.

  “That’s right. My team was the one who caught him. And I’m not going to lie to you. He has caused a great deal more havoc than what the news is telling about him. Our concern is that he might get out. Whether it be on good behavior or escape, it doesn’t matter. We want to make certain he stays where he belongs, which is somewhere tighter than where he is now. So right now, we’re monitoring him. The problem is we ran into a type of speed bump with our lunch truck and coffee…lady this morning, and I can’t send her back there. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind selling a few cups of coffee tomorrow morning for us.”

  “What if I hit a speed bump?”

  “We’ll make it known to the speed bump that you have a boyfriend, unless you find you want to go out with him.”

  “The speed bump was a guy asking your lunch truck lady for a date? What’s wrong with that?” she had to ask.

  To her surprise, Monty burst out laughing. “I’m going to tell him you asked that.”

  There was amusement in John’s eyes. Abigail was thoroughly confused. “Your lunch truck lady is a man?”

  John stepped closer to the monitors and stared at the man sitting on his bunk in the cell. “Something like that.” Then he turned to her. “The point is, our lunch truck lady has to be someone no one there recognizes. I promise I’ll be watching every moment. You won’t be in any danger. Can you do it?”

  She took in the man on the monitor, not really understanding how a lady selling coffee had anything to do with keeping that man behind bars. Maybe she’d understand after she sold a cup of coffee. “It’s unsetting how he’s smiling in the dark like that. What do you think he’s thinking about?”

  “He’s a terrifying bastard,” John said without hesitation. “I would venture to guess he’s planning his escape or revenge.” He turned and caught her gaze. “I won’t let him get near you.”

  “Can I wear a bullet-proof vest anyway?”

  “We’ve got an array of sizes. I bet this one would fit you.” Monty held one up.

  John chuckled. “I don’t plan to put you anywhere that close to danger. You can wear whatever you want, but I would prefer that you would. Yes.”

  “I don’t have a lunch truck or a coffee truck. I don’t even have a delivery van with my coffee shop painted on the side.”

  “I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Bob Smith lay down on his bunk. He was still surprised he was in the rinky-dink place, which had bars instead of concrete walls. Maybe the Feds thought if they kept him out of the limelight, he had less chance of getting lost in some bureaucratic bullshit where he might get the chance to escape. Not that he cared. He thought he could get things done with Brubaker, but hell, Brubaker was like an unstable keg of dynamite. Very unpredictable.

  Shackleford, however, was more predictable with his short fuse. Also, he put his phone in the same place every time after he touched it. Right back pocket. Fabulous.

  Pickpocketing was the first crime Bob had ever committed.

  And he was damned good at it. Even if he was caught with it, he didn’t care. He only needed that phone for a few minutes.

  And tomorrow was another field trip. He could hardly wait for the fun. He smiled in the dim light. It was a long time before sleep came.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Detective Emily Benton liked listening to Virgil, even though she didn’t like hearing what he had to say. She was so hoping she could catch the sonofabitch who was killing women before this latest missing girl became dead body number three. But if he had friends in places where he could get help for criminals who were worse than he was, the case just took a dive for the worse.

  Her phone buzzed. She looked down at the caller ID with a sickening mixture of dread and hope when she recognized Medical Examiner Jim Dresden’s, number. She held up her first finger and stopped Virgil’s explanation about the career criminal his guy was. She was almost grateful for the interruption. Virgil’s guy was a true monster, a monster with so many masks they all blended together. And she was thinking she knew who he was. It was becoming harder and harder keeping her expression free of emotion.

  “Yes, Jim? What is it?”

  “I figured out what the puncture wounds are. It’s not an awl or an ice pick like I thought.”

  She met Virgil’s gaze. His dark hair and dark eyes gave him a mysterious look, like a man with a hidden agenda. The black leather coat and the black jeans were like the icing on top of the cake of badass. If he hadn’t shown her a badge—a real badge—she might have mistaken him for one of the guys the Feds were hunting, not the Fed who was doing the hunting. But she found herself almost feeling sorry for whatever scum was being hunted by him. Almost.

  She found herself drawn again and again to those dark eyes. Despite his rugged, don’t-mess-with-me look, she knew he had a soft side that pulled her like a line with a big hook on the end. She’d heard it in his voice. She’d heard it in the way he talked about the victims.

  Staring at him, she almost lost track of Jim’s words.

  “What is it?” She was almost hesitant to ask.

  “Arrows.”

  “What?”

  “Arrows. Small arrows, perhaps those shot from a small crossbow or a crossbow pistol.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. And given the scratches on the victims, I don’t think they’re running as if trying to escape. I think he’s hunting them.”

  She hung up without saying good bye. For a moment, she couldn’t even speak, she was so flabbergasted.

  “What is it?” Virgil asked. He moved his hand closer to her as if he had thoughts of touching her, of holding her hand.

  She wasn’t certain as to how she felt about that. She didn’t need a Fed for a guy who liked her. She didn’t need to crave or want the touch of any man, especially a Fed. Her demanding job combined with his would go together like nitro and glycerin. She didn’t need it.

  What she needed was to quit getting lost in the dark ocean of his eyes.

  What she needed
was to quit being drawn to the exotic aftershave he wore.

  What she needed was to not let him touch her.

  She pulled her hand out of reach. “My ME said the victims were shot with small arrows, that they were hunted. Has your guy ever done anything like that?”

  “No, not that I know of, but like I said, we’re still connecting the dots on this guy.”

  She licked her lips and did her best to keep from being drawn closer to the man who sat across the booth from her, but it was impossible to tread water hard enough to keep from being pulled under the dark ocean of his eyes. She had to think about the job.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She never put a man before a case. She seldom even thought about one.

  But then, she’d never met a man like him before, either.

  “I wish I had more dots to connect on my guy, but I’m sure if I did, it would mean I had more victims.”

  Emily thought she needed some space, needed to get a grip on the case at hand. Maybe if she wasn’t working to quit staring at him, she could do that. “Listen, I appreciate you’re talking to me, but I think all you might have done is add more questions to my case. I hope I helped you a bit with yours. I need to get back to the squad room and check a few things out.”

  She started to reach into her pocket. He stopped her with a hand to her arm. His touch was…

  Warm.

  Nice.

  And, it damned near sent a zing of electricity right up her arm. Yep, she needed to get away from him. Fast.

  “I’ll pay the check.”

  Any other time she would have argued, would have at the very least insisted on paying for her own order. But right then, she needed to move, to put some distance between herself and his heat. She didn’t remember ever reacting to anyone like she was reacting to him. She tried to keep telling herself she didn’t need him. But something in the pit of her soul refused to listen.

  “Thanks. I can give you my card.”

  “I don’t need it. I found you today. I’ll find you again.”

  The way he said the words told her he intended to do just that.

  She worked to give him a nonchalant smile, but the truth was her heart was hammering in her chest. Her arm still tingled where he’d touched her. It was a long moment before she could tear herself from his gaze.

  The sun was sinking in the sky. Hell, she’d spent most of the afternoon with him, feeling lost in his voice. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her. At the same time, every cell in her body seemed to be crying out to go back into the smoothie shop where he was.

  She shivered. Then had to convince herself it was the cool air of the approaching night, not the absence of his heat that caused it.

  She rounded the corner where she’d parked her car and pulled out her phone. Hell, she’d missed two texts and hoped they weren’t about her present case. She hadn’t even heard them or felt the vibration of her phone. Walking past a van to reach her car, she tapped her phone to retrieve them and read them.

  Motion out of the corner of her eye made her pause.

  It happened so fast. She didn’t get the chance to react. A jolt. Quick, stabbing pain on the left back of her side right below her ribs. She was vaguely aware of her knees buckling beneath her and a sudden terrifying thought she was going to bust her face on the sidewalk.

  Then nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Virgil tossed bills onto the table and went after her. The last thing he wanted was to let her leave. He rounded the corner just in time to see her fall unconscious into some man’s arms. “Hey! What the hell?”

  He raced toward them. Despite his speed, the guy managed to dump Emily unceremoniously through the nearby open van door.

  He reached for his holstered weapon as he drew close, but wasn’t fast enough. His last thought, as a surge of electricity leaped through him, was…

  No. Emily.

  He felt a little pain and registered just enough to know his sore jaw hit the sidewalk.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  John drove Abigail home. He hated like hell to see the evening end. But it wasn’t in him to ask her to stay the night. And, well, seeing her in Susan’s kitchen was an odd mixture of feelings. It felt good having her there and, at the same time, it felt like he was cheating on Susan. Then he remembered how Susan treated anyone who entered her kitchen. All were welcome. All were offered a drink and something sweet—pie, cookies, coffee cake, blueberry scones.

  He could just imagine Susan smiling and pouring Abigail a tall glass of tea. And a strange thought passed through his mind. Selling the house was the last thing he needed to do. Seeing Abigail standing in it made that very clear to him.

  The drive back to her coffee shop was quiet. He knew she had a great deal on her mind, and the last thing he wanted to do was push her.

  The dark van came careening around the corner. All John had a chance to do was swerve out of the way to avoid ramming him head on.

  “Whoa!” Abigail let out.

  Their belts kept them in place. He looked in his rearview and watched the van speed away in the other direction. “Idiot.”

  “What if he’s drunk? Maybe we should report him before he really does hit someone.”

  John glanced at her, then at the rearview again before taking in the street before them. “I could call it in, but did you get a license plate number? Because I didn’t catch it.”

  “Me either. But I can at least call in a dark van moving south down State. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  John listened as Abigail called it in to nine-one-one, glad she volunteered to make the call. He was, after all, supposed to be out of town, or at least at home recuperating. Of course, if anyone from Director Cohen to Pennington questioned him, he could say he was out on a date, which he was. Still, he knew it was best not to make waves. And he was damned glad he’d had his attention on the road when that van came speeding around the corner. They were probably one second away from a head-on.

  Without thought, he reached and laced his fingers through Abigail’s.

  Yes, he was damned glad they were still here, holding hands.

  A short time later, after he helped her carry in her pumpkin and apples as well as the vest Monty insisted she take, he stood with her inside the open front door of her coffee shop. It was full dark now, the street lit by a few streetlights and darkened shop windows. She looked up at him, her face looking translucent in the moonlight, yet shadowed in the dark shop. John could stand there all night and just study her.

  “Well, I must admit, this was a date unlike any other I’ve ever been on.”

  He grinned. “It was my first in a very long time, so please excuse me if I wasn’t on my best behavior.”

  She chuckled. “Actually, everything about it was very nice. I had a great time.”

  “Does that mean you wouldn’t mind going on another with me sometime?” He was almost afraid to ask. “I know I’ve stepped across some boundaries here. My colleagues may never forgive me. We’ve been a team for a long time and have always kept to ourselves. The fact I’ve shared some of our secrets with a virtual stranger probably won’t sit well with them.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “If we’re found out at all, if one of my team is recognized, we could…lose our jobs.” It could be so much more than that. They could be dismantled. They could be the scapegoats for whatever mistakes happened. And John was pretty certain mistakes would happen. Worse, they could become targets.

  “I promise you won’t get found out through me.” She paused and licked her lips.

  He watched the motion, feeling something stir within him, something that had been sleeping for a long time, like a bear waking from a long winter of hibernation.

  “All I have to do is offer coffee for sale?”

  “That’s it, and I won’t be far away. I promise.”

  “Having a different coffee lady there won’t raise a lot of questions?”

  “I’m af
raid not having one there would raise more questions. Also, we need to see what kind of car they use. We just need to see them, and someone might recognize us.”

  “So this guy you want me to sell coffee to asked the previous coffee truck lady out on a date and that posed problems?”

  “Kind of.”

  “What if he asks me out on a date?”

  He shrugged lightly. “Well, I think he’s an asshole, but you can judge for yourself. Also, I’d prefer you go out with me. But if you find you like him…”

  To his surprise, she grasped him by the shirt, pulled him close and planted her lips on his. He guessed that was her way of saying she wasn’t interested in Brubaker or anyone else. The fact was she hadn’t even met Brubaker yet, or any of his team but for Monty, even though she’d served them all coffee and soup. But with the way she kissed, John felt any worry slip away. She was a woman who could handle herself. She was also a woman who knew what she wanted and obviously didn’t hesitate to go after it.

  And boy could she kiss.

  She kissed like she meant it.

  Her lips molded to his in an even pressure of give and take. He felt the length of her body against him, and she pressed warmth into him everywhere she touched. She wasn’t very big. He, of course, was bigger and stronger but she was able to hold him right where she wanted him. Her tongue teased his. And that little something inside him that had been just waking and stretching, maybe yawning as he’d watched her lick her lips a few moments ago, was suddenly wide awake and roaring with need and hunger.

  He should stop.

  He should be a gentleman and let her go.

  He should give her some distance. He should thank her for a nice time and walk away.

  This was a first date. He knew today’s couples lived by other standards than what he acknowledged, what he’d lived for the past two and half decades with his wife. He knew of friends with benefits. He knew how some guys lived for a good time now with no worry about tomorrow. He knew sex for today’s young people was what just kissing had been when he was young. Giving it away and taking it everywhere he could find it had never been him, but then, he’d been faithful to Susan for twenty-three years and almost three before they were married.