Harlequin Intrigue January 2021 - Box Set 1 of 2

by Julie Anne Lindsey, Lena Diaz

  Carly glanced at the phone on her outstretched palm. “Opaline said he and his ex-girlfriend liked to bowl and play pool. You can shoot pool at a lot of bars, and a lot of bowling alleys have bars and billiards.”

  “I guess I’ll head downtown next instead,” Axel said. “It’ll be nice to get inside and warm up. I’ll give Max a call when I’m finished at Shaky’s Bar. You can tell by the name it’s going to be a good one.”

  Aria laughed. “Sounds like someplace I’d find my brothers. Bad music. Dim lighting to hide decades of wear and tear, an awesome burger and about ninety beers on tap.”

  “I could go for a good burger right now,” Axel said, wind whipping through his cell phone’s speaker.

  “You need any help over at Shaky’s?” Carly asked. “Maybe we should rendezvous there for lunch.”

  “Yes,” Aria answered. “Greasy burgers. Salty fries. I’m in. Tell Selena and Max.”

  “How’s Max doing?” Carly asked. “Yesterday had to be a tough one for him. Then he didn’t respond to any of our messages last night.”

  “I think he’s just fine,” Axel said, a peculiar lilt to the words.

  “You think?” Carly rolled the words and tone around in her mind. “Oh,” she said. “So he wasn’t at the hotel when you got back, then?”

  “Nope.”

  “And he wasn’t there when you got up for work this morning either?” she asked, trading grins with Aria as the facts set in.

  “Nope.”

  Carly felt her smile widen. Max had gone to see his ex-wife and son for dinner, and he’d stayed the night. “I guess you’re right. He’s doing just fine.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Grand Rapids Family Practice was housed in a squat one-story brick building near downtown. Max held the door for Selena as they entered the small medical office. According to the website, GRFP had four full-time doctors and a handful of regular staff. Currently, they also had a mostly empty parking lot and a completely empty waiting room.

  Mauve-and-green padded chairs lined the waiting-area walls, interspersed with small rectangular tables. A hodgepodge of picture books and popular magazines topped the tables, and there was an indestructible-looking, topless toy box against one wall.

  They crossed the silent space to the check-in desk and smiled politely at the woman on the other side.

  “Hello,” Selena greeted the platinum blonde behind the desk. The woman’s name badge identified her as Pamela, but Max didn’t need that to recognize her. She looked exactly like all her photos on Facebook.

  “Good morning,” she answered. “How can I help you?”

  Selena raised her badge, giving Pamela a serious look before tucking the identification away. “We’re hoping to have a word with you. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  A second woman stalled as she passed by, apparently noting the distinct and sudden tension. “Is everything okay, Pamela?” she asked, coming to stand beside the seated woman.

  “Yes. Fine,” Pamela said. “Thank you.”

  The second woman wore pink scrubs, orthopedic shoes and had at least twenty years on the rest of them. She put her hands on her hips. “Then maybe I can help you,” she suggested, fixing a warning look on Selena and Max.

  “No.” Pamela stood woodenly, then forced a bright smile. “I’ve got this. But can you cover for me? I’ll only be a minute.”

  The older woman narrowed her eyes at Selena and then Max. “Okay.” She unhooked the stethoscope from around her neck and lowered herself into Pamela’s vacant seat. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.” Pamela lifted a hand in goodbye, then went around to open the door separating the waiting area from the offices and exam rooms. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

  The area beyond the waiting room was like every other doctor’s office Max had ever seen. Watered-down paint colors. A tall scale and height device pressed against a wall with coat hooks. Open exam-room doors with empty tables covered in paper. A handful of men and women in colorful scrubs looking at open files as they buzzed around.

  The office’s kitchen was as simple as the rest of the place. A countertop and sink on one wall. A lunch table down the middle with plastic folding chairs around it. Zero bells and whistles. A laminated evacuation map taped above the sink.

  Pamela shut the door once they were all inside. She moved around to the kitchenette and leaned against the small counter, knocking into a collection of assorted coffee mugs. Her khaki pants and white sweater were snug on her lean frame, and she wore trendy on-brand sneakers instead of the plain, comfort-first footwear worn by the other staff they’d passed in the hallway. “Is someone hurt?” she asked, pushing a swath of platinum hair off her shoulder.

  “No.” Max offered her his hand. “I’m Special Agent Max McRay. This is Special Agent Selena Lopez. We’d like to ask you a few questions about a man we think you know. His name is Fritz O’Lear.”

  “Fritz?” Pamela asked, swinging her gaze from Max to Selena, then back. “And he isn’t hurt?”

  “No,” Selena answered. “He’s not hurt.”

  Max and Selena waited then, allowing Pamela time to ask herself what the FBI wanted with her ex, before moving forward. Max evaluated her expressions as she worked through the situation. Surprise. Confusion. Concern.

  “What do you want with Fritz?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning away. Not a great pair of body signals. She was putting up a barrier, then adding additional space, though she could only manage an extra few inches from her position at the counter.

  “We need to get in contact with him,” Selena said, her silky voice adding a measure of calm to Pamela’s visible tension. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  Pamela shook her head. “I haven’t seen Fritz since Christmas.”

  “Tell us about that,” Max said, doing his best imitation of a tough guy. He hadn’t gotten a good read on her yet and didn’t want to give her the time to decide against being helpful. If the surprise of their appearance at Pamela’s office was all they had going for him right now, he needed to make the most of it.

  She released a nervous breath. “I ran into Fritz at the bowling alley’s holiday party a few days before Christmas.” She ran her hand up and down one bicep, but didn’t uncross her arms. “We played a couple games of pool. Had some drinks.” She smiled. “There was a lot of mistletoe and nostalgia, so I invited him back to my place for the night.” Her cheeks pinkened at the admission. “The holidays are a confusing time. It’s easy to feel lonely. And I’ve known him for years.”

  “How did he seem that night?” Selena asked. “Was he upset about anything in particular?”

  Pamela’s brows arched. “A little.” She chewed her lips, choosing her words. “Before he left, he told me he’s always regretted we didn’t end up together, and he thought maybe we could have a second chance.”

  “And?” Selena asked.

  Pamela wrinkled her nose. She looked at her shoes, then her pale blue fingernail polish. “I laughed at him.” She raised her eyes again, looking the way Max might if he’d accidentally kicked a small puppy. “I told him what we had was great for high school, but it ended for a reason, and that our one-night stand was only that. We remind each other of when we were young and fearless. Then got carried away. Nothing more.”

  Selena gave an understanding nod. “How’d he take that?”

  “Not great. I tried to explain, but I think I made things worse the more I talked. I said he was romanticizing what had happened between us. It was a onetime adult hookup, and I barely remembered our monthlong high school romance. I told him those things aren’t meant to last. Then I remembered he didn’t date back then. In hindsight, I think those dates when we were teens, and the night after the bar, all meant more to him than me. I feel terrible for hurting him. Fritz has had it rough.” She tucked a fin
gernail between her teeth and began to gnaw.

  Max traded a pointed look with Selena. He hadn’t known what to expect from Pamela before they spoke, but this wasn’t it. She’d just described a third recent rejection for O’Lear. For someone already teetering on the edge of a mental break, and with little left to lose, it could’ve been enough to push him over the edge, especially after the Burger Mania employee’s rejection and this one from Pamela. “Do you have any idea where Fritz could be now?” Max asked. “If you wanted to get ahold of him, where would you start?”

  Pamela shrugged. “Have you checked his apartment? He doesn’t go out much, and he’s not working right now, or he wasn’t at Christmas anyway, so you might catch him there. I have the address. I can write it down for you.” She turned to collect a pen from the top of a small microwave, then froze. She turned back, looking a little greener. “You were at his place yesterday. I remember now.” She pointed to Max. “You were the guy in the bomb suit. I watched you talking to the local police after you left the building. I was worried because I recognized Fritz’s building.”

  Selena took the chair opposite Pamela. “Breathe.”

  Pamela made a small strangled sound.

  Max crossed his arms and widened his stance behind Selena, running mentally through the possibility Pamela was next on O’Lear’s hit list.

  She looked from agent to agent. “Do you really think Fritz is the Grand Rapids bomber?”

  “We know he is,” Selena said gently. “And he knows we know.”

  Pamela gasped.

  “He’s hiding, and probably unhappy we stopped his attack yesterday,” Selena said. “So it is imperative that we find and stop him before anyone else gets hurt.”

  Max stepped forward, then crouched before the table. “You said you see Fritz around sometimes. But you haven’t seen him since Christmas.” Since she’d rejected him. “Is that common?”

  She frowned. “I’m not sure. It’s barely been a month, and there were holidays in between, but he wasn’t at Shaky’s for New Year’s Eve.” She wet her lips. “He hasn’t missed that party in a decade, but I figured he was avoiding me. I knew I’d hurt his feelings, and I was hoping to apologize. I didn’t get to.”

  “You don’t have a phone number for him?” Selena pressed. They had one for the text he’d sent, but maybe he used another phone.

  She nodded, then gave them the number they already knew.

  Max cast a look in Selena’s direction. “I can make some calls and get a safe house set up for her.”

  “What?” Pamela said, voice cracking with panic. “For me? You think he’d try to kill me? Because I didn’t want to rekindle a high school relationship?”

  Maybe, Max thought. O’Lear has certainly killed for less. He stretched onto his feet and liberated the phone from his pocket while Selena spoke with Pamela.

  “We think he’s been targeting people who’ve recently rejected him,” Selena explained, as Max sent a series of update texts to Axel, Rihanna and the team.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Pamela complained. “Fritz and I are friends.”

  “Is there anyone else he might have a beef with?” Selena asked. “We know he has at least one more attack planned, and we think that could happen at any time.”

  Pamela cried.

  Axel and Rihanna both responded almost instantly to Max’s text. Axel would have a safe house arranged through Grand Rapids PD. Rihanna had a cruiser on its way to collect Pamela and take her to the new destination.

  “Pamela,” Selena said. “I know this is upsetting, but can you think of anyone else Fritz was upset with? Did he mention someone specific the last time you saw him?”

  “No.” She batted confused, tear-filled eyes. “Maybe. I don’t know. I can’t think.”

  “Look,” Selena said. “I know we’ve given you a lot to process, and you’re probably feeling scared, betrayed and a little ambushed right now, but there are lives at stake, so I need you to be sure.”

  Max forwarded Axel’s and Rihanna’s texts to Selena, then went to join the women at the table.

  Pamela stilled, brows furrowing. “There was someone. A guy from his old neighborhood works at Coffee Coven now.”

  Max lifted his phone once more. “What’s his name? I’ll get Grand Rapids PD to pick him up and protect him while we check out the lead.”

  “I don’t know.” Pamela shook her head. “Fritz thought the guy spit in his drink, and when he demanded to speak to the manager, the guy tapped his badge and laughed at him. I guess he was the manager. The whole exchange got the other workers laughing together behind the counter. There’s a bunch of teens and college kids that work there these days. They’re all obnoxious. I only go there because it’s the best place for a latte in the entire mall.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Allie turned off her blow-dryer and rubbed a towel over the steamy bathroom mirror, clearing the fog. She’d made a quick trip to the mall and set up a workstation in the kitchen before indulging in some long-overdue self-care. It wasn’t often that her parents took Max Jr. for more than a couple of hours, mostly because Allie hated to be away from him, but today, she was eager for the time alone. Before she got to work, she wanted to bask in the afterglow of a perfect night with Max and dream about where that renewed connection might take them. Hopefully back to her bed. Maybe even back to the altar.

  She’d stood beneath a stream of piping hot water, the volume on her radio cranked up to support her one-woman shower concert, and she’d stayed there until she’d shaved, shampooed and exfoliated every inch of herself. She stepped out feeling shiny, fresh and about five years younger.

  Her hair had dried and swelled to twice its usual size under the heat and pressure of her dryer, a device she rarely had time for these days. The wild blond curls Max loved to run his fingers through were softly scented with her favorite apricot deep conditioner.

  Allie opened the bathroom door to release the steam and better admire her work in the foggy mirror, then went into her adjoining bedroom to dress. She slid into her softest jeans and an olive-colored sweater that brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

  She’d made a decision in the shower.

  When Max came for dinner tonight, she would tell him exactly how she felt. Whatever had gone wrong in their marriage, she still loved him. She’d never stopped. And in hindsight, she was a contributing factor in their breakup. She’d played the victim at the time, wanting more from him than he could give, then tucking her tail and turning away when he didn’t comply. In truth, she was no more a victim than Max. She was his wife, and she should have fought for him. She should have stayed and demanded he get the help he needed to ease his PTSD and stop burying himself in his work. The love he and Allie shared was bigger and stronger than any trauma, and she should’ve been beside him every time he entered and exited that counselor’s office. Max had told her the other night that he’d abandoned her when she was his teammate, but she’d abandoned him, too. And she was ready to do what it took to make that up to him.

  A soft creak caught her ear, somewhere outside her room, followed by the sound of footfalls on her hardwood floor.

  She smiled with the realization her parents had stopped home for something. It wasn’t unusual. They often popped in and out when they had Max Jr., grabbing an extra change of clothes, another blanket or toy. If they’d been shopping, they occasionally stopped in to show off their bounty before heading out again.

  “Talk about perfect timing,” she called, pressing small diamond stud earrings into her pierced lobes. “Tell me what you think of this sweater.” She hurried out to catch her mom, but the home was silent as she padded down the hall.

  The kitchen and living room were empty.

  Allie turned in a small circle, gooseflesh crawling over her toasty warm skin. She scanned the rooms for signs her mom had dropped something off, or mayb
e picked something up, then left. Nothing seemed out of place.

  Had she been wrong about the footfalls?

  An icy chill swirled through the kitchen, forcing the back door open wide. The gust hit Allie in the face and chest, complete with flurries from the world outside.

  She rushed toward the door, sliding in melted clumps of snow on her kitchen floor. Footprints, she realized, but her mother never used the back door.

  No one did.

  Fear-laced adrenaline shot through her limbs, and she lunged for the door, slamming it shut and twisting the lock. Then she ran for her bedroom. Allie grabbed her phone from the nightstand and stared in disbelief at the notification of seven missed calls from Max.

  She’d been in the shower, been drying her hair.

  She locked her bedroom door, creating a barrier against the intruder, then stifled a whimper as she fumbled to unlock the device with suddenly shaking hands. Either someone had been in her house, or they were still there now. She could only pray it wasn’t the latter. Her thumbs moved woodenly over the screen as she mentally processed the possibility someone had been inside her home. Someone could still be inside her home. And wherever Max was, it was too far away to help.

  A flash of blinding pain shot through her head without warning, pitching her forward and knocking the phone from her grip. Her palms and knees slammed against the floor. Her cell phone skittered into the doorjamb with a crack!

  A sob broke on her lips, and a scream built in her chest. Confusion faded into pinpoint clarity, and Allie knew it was too late for anyone to help. A feral yell ripped from her core, leaving her throat burning and raw. She couldn’t dial 911, but she could fight. Max had taught her how.

  Allie rocked onto the balls of her feet, prepared to deflect her intruder, then make a run for help.