Catch a Killer

by Kris Rafferty

  “Lieutenant.” Ferguson’s eyes widened as he raked his black hair off his forehead. “She’s not dead yet.”

  “And we’re going to keep it that way,” the lieutenant said. “The district attorney and bureau chief had a confab in the small hours of the morning, and then made a few calls. Special Agent Cambridge’s replacement has already arrived with his team.”

  Replacement? The news felt like a punch to her gut. Why hadn’t Hannah seen that coming? It made sense, followed protocol, but damn…she was losing control of this case.

  Pepperidge indicated the door, and the man walking into the room. “Cambridge, I was told you know Special Agent Jack Benton.”

  Her first impression was a lean and muscular man. Sexy. Familiar. Then she locked eyes with him and things got fuzzy. Jack. Her mind told her not to believe it. She was seeing things. The man wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked as if he feared she’d faint. He knew her too well. Jack. Or had known her…before he’d died eleven months ago and gave her a September from hell.

  She still couldn’t believe it. Special Agent Jack Benton. Her partner in the bureau. Her secret lover. Ellen’s father.

  Jack stepped toward her, extending his hand for a shake. The moment was surreal. Automatically, she took his proffered hand, felt his familiar calluses scratch her palm, unearthing memories of his hands on her skin, of him making love to her more times than she could count. Solid. Strong. Towering over her. His touch galvanized her and forced her to accept the truth. This wasn’t a dream.

  Jack is alive. This is real. This is happening.

  She shivered, felt her face flush, and knew there was no hiding her shock. Now everyone was staring at her as if they feared she’d faint. Well, she wanted to faint. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry. She waited for the euphoria, for the relief that he was alive, but it refused to come.

  He’d betrayed her. He’d allowed her to believe he’d been murdered. She squeezed his hand tighter. He’d allowed her to suffer such grief and pain it had killed the woman she’d been, and replaced her with someone she still didn’t recognize. Someone less, someone weaker, someone she’d come to despise.

  Tugging sharply on his hand, Hannah pulled him toward her and lifted her knee to strike his groin. Jack stopped it with a palm heel to her thigh, and then quickly clasped her into a restrictive hug, deftly disguising that she’d just attacked a fellow officer, a firing offense.

  “I’ll explain,” he whispered into her ear. His breath sent a shiver through her body, leaving her trembling. This was happening. How could this be happening? “Really, Hannah. I’m not the ass you think I am. I can explain.” Then he loosened his grip.

  Hannah pushed him aside, struggling to find her composure, to find her breath.

  She’d mourned him.

  “That’s right, Lieutenant.” Hannah hated that her words sounded breathy, and weak. “I know Jack.”

  Blindly, she stepped to the refreshment table, and with shaking hands, she poured a cup of coffee and then sipped, scalding her tongue. The brew was bitter…and painful.

  Chapter 2

  “Special Agent Cambridge.” FBI Special Agent Jack Benton didn’t know how to say his next words without sounding like the ass he’d promised Hannah he wasn’t, but they had to be said. He couldn’t allow her to take risks with her life. The bureau rightly had stepped in and given him this case. On his insistence, of course, but she didn’t have to know that. “I’m here to relieve you of your post and place you in protective custody.”

  She kept her back to him, sipping her coffee, so Jack glanced at Pepperidge, hoping he’d take over the explanation. Would she have a meltdown? She deserved one, but it would be a lot easier if she gave him the benefit of the doubt and rolled with this change of command. She had to know there was a reasonable explanation for what’d happened last year. Right?

  Pepperidge held up a fax from the bureau, and another from the district attorney’s office. “Special Agent Cambridge, you know protocol as well as we do.”

  “I don’t want protective custody.” Hannah’s tone brooked no argument as she kept her back to the room. “I’ve made other arrangements.”

  “You have no choice.” Jack would protect her whether she liked it or not. A serial killer—an extremely successful serial killer—had targeted her. Protective custody was a no-brainer. “I have authority to relieve you of duty.”

  “Relieve me all you like.” Hannah glanced at him over her shoulder. “But you can’t put me in protective custody without my consent. To do that, you’ll have to arrest me.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” From the looks he was getting from the team, Jack could see where their loyalty lay, and he didn’t blame them. Hannah was one of the good guys. She could be oppositional, like now, but she was relentlessly by the book. Which was why it made no sense that she didn’t see what had to be done.

  Hannah belonged in protective custody.

  Heading a task force to track down a serial killer was a coup, sure, and it had to be hard to give up the lead role in such a high-profile case. He understood her resistance. He did. Hell, Jack was only hours back from a job he took knowing it was dangerous, but he took it anyway for the same reasons: high-profile, lead role.

  Hannah’s life was more important than any promotion, though. She had to know that. She wasn’t Jack. People cared about her. Why didn’t she see that?

  Hannah turned toward the room, and leaned against the refreshment table, sipping. She scanned the faces in the incident room, probably gauging the likelihood of her team supporting a mutiny. It was a reminder that she’d never been good at admitting defeat. He suspected it was why they’d stayed together so long in D.C., despite their shaky relationship; a shaky relationship that nudged him into taking the undercover assignment in New Jersey.

  It had happened fast. Overnight, in fact, and then he was deeply embedded, under radio silence, cut off from all who knew him. Did he regret the decision? Not really. Sure, Jack took the easy out and allowed his superior, Special Agent in Charge Goodwin, to break the news to Hannah. Only Goodwin didn’t break the news. Jack’s boss made an executive decision to withhold pertinent information from Hannah—that Jack wasn’t, in fact, dead—fearing snitches in the FBI’s ranks. Goodwin didn’t know he and Hannah were lovers, but still…it was cruel, and ultimately Jack’s fault for delegating such an important task. He’d discovered only this morning what had happened, and the irony of his situation was hard to miss. He’d taken the assignment because he’d feared Hannah didn’t love him, yet how he left her gave Hannah ample reason to hate him now that he was back.

  Vivian O’Grady covered her mouth, hiding a nervous, sympathetic smile. Pepperidge had provided a briefing packet on the team, and Vivian’s file described a talented tech who had a bit of the savant about her; the team’s designated caregiver. The thirtysomething looked like a small-town librarian. Jack could easily suppose she had a house full of cats, maybe porcelain figurines in a china cabinet, so his gut said Vivian wasn’t the type to join Hannah’s mutiny.

  Detective Ferguson snickered, catching Jack’s attention. He was a big guy. The Boston Police Department’s point man on the task force. His grin told Jack he was enjoying Hannah’s push back. Ferguson would gladly join Hannah’s mutiny.

  “Special Agent Benton, I’m not going anywhere,” Hannah said. “I’ve been leading this case for a month. Leaving would hamper the investigation when I need it running smoothly. It’s my life on the line.”

  Like he didn’t know that. Why the hell did she think he was here? And what the hell was with the ‘Special Agent Benton’ routine? He’d fucked up last year. That didn’t mean they were strangers. He could describe down to the most intimate detail what she’d looked like when she’d climaxed in his arms. Strangers couldn’t do that. “You’ll follow orders.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “Taking me off the case is a bad
idea.”

  Stubborn. That’s what she was. “Put your ambition on a back burner.”

  He detected a flicker of hurt in her gaze, the first real emotion she’d shown since he’d arrived. Even when she’d attempted to knee him in the groin, her face had been an unemotional mask, her thoughts hidden. She’d reminded Jack of his father, a cold man. Detached, too, especially when the bastard had doled out pain. His father never loved Jack, either.

  “Well.” Pepperidge clasped his hands loudly. “Now that we have that settled, everyone back to work.”

  “You hear that, Special Agent Benton? It’s settled,” Hannah repeated. “I’m working the case.”

  Pepperidge glanced between Jack and Hannah. “I have a meeting with the captain. Have this ironed out before I come back.” Then he left the room, disappearing into the hall.

  Hannah seemed primed for battle, but Jack didn’t want the team witnessing her losing this fight, so he waved everyone toward the door. “Give us the room, but don’t go far,” he said.

  Vivian and Ferguson hustled into the hall, helping themselves to doughnuts as they left. Ferguson walked most of the way backward, smiling ear to ear, looking between Hannah and Jack. It was enough to make Jack want to test Ferguson’s Ranger skills against his Quantico training. Almost, but then the door closed behind the two, focusing Jack on the battle ahead with Hannah. It was coming, was long overdue, and she had every right to be pissed.

  Hannah surprised him by grabbing his hand and dragging him into the lieutenant’s office.

  When she slammed the door behind them, he frowned at her, not knowing what she had in mind. Then she grabbed his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss.

  There was no hesitation. No moment of shock. Her lips were on his, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, as if that’s where it belonged. He pulled her close, clutching her to his chest as he reacquainted himself with her taste, the smell of her, and how she felt in his arms. Thinner than he remembered, but good. So good. She felt right.

  Hannah broke the kiss. “They told me you were dead.” She was gasping, suppressing sobs as she pulled his jacket off, peeling it down his arms until it fell to the floor. “I saw the body, Jack.”

  He shook his head, while dropping kisses on her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you have a condom?”

  “Huh?” He blinked at her. “Yes.” He pulled out his wallet, she grabbed it and rifled through until she found the condom, which was old enough to give him pause.

  “Thank heaven.” Then she kissed him, her hands fluttering on his chest as if she couldn’t believe he was real. When she loosened his tie, a jolt of arousal had him sucking in a breath, and reminded him what he’d given up when he’d left. This…hunger. And he was hungry for her. Raw need blocked out common sense, and he felt no shame, no worry as he helped her unbutton his shirt. All he wanted was Hannah touching him. To touch her skin, to taste her, to bury himself deep and forget this last year ever happened.

  Then his hands were on her, unzipping her pants with shaking hands. He was desperate for her as she kicked off her shoes and pants, her gaze never leaving his body. Jack slapped at the doorknob, locking the door as she unsnapped her bra. Then Hannah launched herself at him, jumping on him. He caught her and buried his face in the hollow of her neck, inhaling her glorious scent, tasting the tender skin beneath her earlobe. She locked her ankles behind his hips as Jack lifted her higher, cupping her ass, holding her weight as he relished the feel of her warm, wet core brushing against his belly.

  “Damn, Hannah. Damn, I’ve missed this.” He’d missed her.

  He made it to the nearest wall without tripping over their clothes and pressed against her, his weight holding her in place as he freed a hand to cup her breast. She trembled, tasting him, running her tongue up his neck, nipping at his earlobe. When his thumb brushed her nipple, it pebbled, she gasped, reminding him how responsive a lover she was, and how that had always turned him on. As it was turning him on now.

  Jack handed her the condom. She reached between their bodies, rolled it on, and then it was his turn to touch her…wet, hot, and ready for him. He buried himself with one thrust as he slid his tongue into her mouth, sealing their lips with a kiss.

  She moaned deep in her throat, something he’d never thought to hear again, and it was heavenly. She gripped his shoulders, restless, moving her hips. Impatient. So like Hannah. His smile broke their kiss but allowed him to watch her reaction to his deep thrusts. Her obvious surrender sent a jolt of pleasure through him, but he forced himself to savor the moment, her gasps of desire. Like a starving man eating his last meal, Jack’s possessiveness was back, but he knew she wasn’t his to keep. Not anymore. Not for a long time. What the hell was he doing?

  Hannah pulled his head toward her and kissed him, their tongues meeting. Jack’s control buckled, and he took her hard, fast, and then it was Hannah breaking their kiss. She threw her head back, crying out in climax, destroying Jack’s last thread of control. All thoughts became about Hannah’s release, how her body melded with his, how amazing it felt to be inside her again as she clenched around him—consuming and being consumed. She sighed and gasped each time he buried himself inside her, and when he found his release, she was on her second one.

  They were left gasping, their chests heaving as he continued to pin her to the wall with his body. When he could think again, he rested his forehead on hers, not wanting this moment to end, knowing it might be his last shot to have her like this. It had always been this way with Hannah. She always made him feel as if she were a breath away from being gone. A comment away from leaving him. Last year, he’d left so he wouldn’t have to live through her leaving him.

  Now, he felt like a fool.

  Drawing his lips along her jawline, he moved up her neck until he could brush his nose against the skin behind her ear. She smelled of fruity shampoo, and her hair had escaped the clip, tickling his face. Jack couldn’t get enough of kissing her, tasting her lips, capturing her tongue, and sealing her mouth with his…breathing the same air.

  Neither attempted to speak as they reacquainted themselves with each other’s body and scent. Her fingertips caressed his shoulders, drew down his arms as he cupped her ass with both hands, keeping her firmly in place, them connected.

  It was a homecoming.

  Hannah. The only woman he’d ever loved.

  Just as these thoughts filled his head, Hannah broke their kiss, unhooked her ankles, and slid her feet to the ground. It forced him to pull out of her, but her legs were wobbly, so Jack used that as an excuse to continue holding her close, keeping her cheek pressed to his chest. She clung to him as Jack tried to understand what had just happened. Honestly, he wasn’t sure, but knew it wasn’t just sex. He knew how that felt; impersonal, fleeting pleasure. This was different. It always had been with Hannah.

  She took a deep breath, then pushed away from him, turning her back as she gathered her clothes. Hannah was never one to argue from a weak position, so she predictably dressed as quickly as they’d disrobed, acting as if she were alone in the room. Jack followed suit, not wanting to be the only naked person when the inevitable discussion began. He counted himself lucky she’d waited until he was dressed before unlocking the lieutenant’s office door and storming from the room, but her behavior confused him. Surely, she had questions.

  He followed her out, and when she sat at her desk as if she intended to ignore what they’d just done—to ignore him—it took Jack a moment to gather his thoughts and come up with a strategy to respond. He stepped to the refreshment table and poured himself a coffee, but didn’t drink it, not wanting to lose the taste of her on his lips.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she was reading a report that she’d picked up off her desk. If she was absorbing any information, he’d be a monkey’s uncle, because he’d be hard-pressed to spell his last name right now. Hannah had to be putting
on a show, otherwise, he had no idea who this woman was. He stepped to her side. She ignored him still, even when he sat on the chair next to her desk.

  On assignment, he’d told himself he felt fine living without her. Less stressed, despite working the Coppola syndicate case, surrounded by a bunch of sociopaths. It was a relief to clock his time on the job and not worry about a personal life. He’d missed her, but assumed he’d have missed anyone he’d recently broken up with. He’d missed the sex, that’s for sure. No one rocked Jack’s boat like Hannah, and he wasn’t interested in anything less, so it had been a dry year. A lonely year. He’d missed her companionship, too. Working side by side with Hannah had been bliss, and then coming home to her, making love until they had nothing left…That had been an amazing life they’d shared.

  Looking at her now—stone-cold expression, sitting at her desk, ignoring him—he was reminded of their past challenges, too. Her silences. And how things got real bad, until he’d cried uncle and left, falling back on what he knew. The job. Something he was good at.

  “I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again. “You deserved to be told I was on assignment. I was assured you would be, but, well, you know what happened. I’m sorry things went down the way they did.”

  “Apology accepted.” Her eyes remained on the reports, her gaze scanning left to right. She was reading, and it flabbergasted him. Who was this woman? Didn’t she just strip him to the skin and fuck his brains out mere minutes ago? He had to assume she wanted more of an apology, so he dug deep and tried to come up with something that revealed exactly how horrible he felt about the whole mix-up.

  “A job presented itself,” he said, “and it required me to go deep undercover. It’s a long story.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Her eyes flashed with anger, but it came and went so quickly, he could almost convince himself it didn’t happen as she continued to read whatever the hell was in that fascinating manila folder. He wanted to throw it across the room.