Deadly Attraction

by Misty Evans

  Come morning, she’d hesitated about going back in to wake him. She might get trapped in that gravitational pull of his and end up watching him again while he slept.

  So she’d made a plan. He’d been sleeping so peacefully, she’d hated to wake him, but she brought food, hoping it would do the trick of keeping her focused until his nose detected a different kind of wake-up alarm.

  His hair still stood up from all the hand raking he was doing. Was it out of frustration with her or because he wanted to get out of here?

  His morning erection had been impressive, even when contained behind his zippered jeans. He’d looked the epitome of the morning after a night of debauchery, only she hadn’t gotten the benefit of that debauchery.

  Her cheeks heated. Good thing they were standing in shadows.

  Too long without a man. She really needed to get out more. Go into the city, grab a random guy and work out her sexual frustrations.

  But that so was not her. She needed a connection with a man to be attracted to him.

  So why am I attracted to the man next to me? Outside of disliking the holidays, they didn’t seem to have any connection.

  Mitch stood watching Danika comb out and braid Twinkie’s mane. “That poor horse,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Emma sent him a side-eye. “Poor horse?”

  “You named him Twinkie and he’s getting his hair braided. Do you emasculate all the males in your life?”

  Ouch. “He came with that name. I didn’t give it to him. He was a trick horse for a traveling show for nearly ten years, and then his owner got old and sick and couldn’t care for him properly anymore. Twinkie was getting up in years too, but he was perfect for a therapy horse. Besides, he’s butter yellow with a white center. He does resemble a Twinkie.”

  “You should rename him.”

  “Like what?”

  “George, Carl, Dan, who cares? Just as long as it sounds manly.”

  “Like Mitch?”

  “Mitch is a good, strong name.”

  Yes it is.

  “Got a text from my boss,” Mitch said. “They had a spotting of Goodsman forty miles south of here.”

  Her pulse did a skip. “That’s good news, right? He’s moving away from me.”

  “Could be a false sighting.”

  “Could be.” But she was going to hope it wasn’t.

  Danika finished and they went inside. Officer Moses followed, staying downstairs as Emma led the way up to her office.

  “I’ll hang down here,” Mitch said and Emma smiled at the way Carla’s face lit up.

  “Help yourself to coffee,” she called to the guard. “And Agent Holden knows where the cookies are.”

  The two of them disappeared into the kitchen and Emma felt a twinge of jealousy when she heard Carla laugh a moment later before she shut the door to her office.

  Which was entirely ridiculous.

  Focus on what’s in front of you.

  “Who’s that man downstairs?” Danika asked. She stood looking down at the rumbled cushions on the sofa.

  “He’s uh…” Emma snatched up the pillow Mitch had slept on and plumped it with her fists. His scent wafted up and she caught her breath. “A friend,” she settled on.

  The girl sat on the couch, curling her feet under her and staring over the back out the window. “He a cop?”

  Emma returned to her desk and set up her pocket tape recorder. The light on her phone was blinking. Six messages.

  The media was all over Chris’s escape. She’d been expecting them to hunt her down, even though her number was unlisted. They were always after a statement. “He works for the government.”

  The girl slowly swung her gaze around, her dark eyes meeting Emma’s. “You in trouble, Dr. Collins?”

  Big trouble if I’m sniffing pillows and feeling jealous of Carla Moses.

  The worry in Danika’s eyes sobered her. Nonattachment was challenging with her patients; the kids often found it challenging as well. Without a mother figure in her life, Danika looked at Emma sometimes as if she cared for her. Maybe she did, but it was most likely transference. Danika didn’t have a single role model or person in her life to support her. She looked to Emma for that sense of self.

  “Agent Holden is here to help me with work, that’s all.”

  Danika’s expression barely changed, but it was enough to tell Emma she saw through the lie before the girl once more turned her focus to the view outside. “I seen the news.”

  Emma fiddled with the recorder, didn’t turn it on. “About what?”

  Danika’s nonresponse was telling. She’d been watching the wildfire coverage.

  Which was ill-advised. The child was under enormous emotional stress, something that could trigger her desire to set something on fire.

  Emma could hardly recommend putting the girl in lockdown, but she would have to say something to Danika’s social worker about limiting the girl’s exposure to the wildfire news. “It would be best if you didn’t watch the news right now.”

  Danika stared out the window. “I seen them talking about that actor dude that escaped. He doesn’t like you.”

  That’s an understatement. The phone blared and Emma hastily turned off the ringer. Damned reporters. “I’m sure the police will catch him soon. Let’s talk about you.”

  For the next hour, Emma drew Danika out of her shell and touched on emotions triggered by the holidays. No surprise the girl was depressed. At one point, she point blank stated she had nothing to live for except seeing Twinkie.

  “Will and I are having a cleanup day here at the ranch on Wednesday.” Emma said on a whim.” Would you like to come and spend the afternoon helping us?”

  The girl’s eyes brightened, but she hesitated. “That’s Christmas. Why you working on Christmas?”

  Why, indeed. “The horses don’t care what day it is and the barn needs an in-depth cleaning.”

  “Are you going to have ham and potatoes for dinner? My momma always made ham and potatoes at Christmas.”

  Hmm. Should she humor Danika or break that trigger to the past and help her move on? Create a new tradition? “I’ll see what’s in the deep freeze and we’ll go from there. You might end up with eggs and biscuits if I don’t have anything else.”

  The girl shrugged. “I s’pose.”

  Emma took it as a good sign when Danika’s steps seemed lighter as she bounced out of the office and down the stairs. She had something to look forward to now, but Emma wasn’t taking a chance. She would alert Carla and Danika’s case worker that the girl was borderline suicidal. That type of emotional overload was sure to trigger her desire to set a fire.

  Downstairs, they found Carla alone in the kitchen. “Where’s Mitch?” Emma said, then corrected herself. “Agent Holden?”

  Carla cocked a thumb at the front of the house. “Had to take a call and said the reception in here was bad.”

  Emma followed Carla and Danika out the side kitchen door to the transport van in the driveway, keeping an eye out for her bodyguard. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see him if he was out front. Once Carla had the girl secured inside the van, Emma recommended increased surveillance through the holidays. “I’ll send an official recommendation to your supervisor and Danika’s case worker with today’s eval. Her current mindset is unstable because of the holidays and the wildfire news coverage she’s been allowed to watch. I suggest she return Wednesday to help with cleaning up the stables to keep her occupied.”

  “Working on Christmas?” Carla shook her head. “You need a life, Dr. Collins. So do I, though. I’ll be the one to bring her, since I caught holiday duty again this year.”

  Emma waved them off and turned around to find Mitch watching her from a few yards away. Salt was on her back, trying to get him to cop a belly rub.

  His face was grim as she approached. He held up his phone and showed her a picture. “Recognize this gal?”

  Straight brown hair, pale skin, plain dark brown eyes. Behind those eyes, though
… “That’s Linda Brown.”

  “Linda Brown, a.k.a. Mary Monahan, correct? At least she believes she’s Mary Monahan.”

  A slither of worry traced down Emma’s spine. “What about her?”

  “Dupé confirmed she was in the truck that ran Goodsman’s transport van off the road yesterday. The van had a video camera on it and caught Brown on film. There was a man with her, but he wore a stocking cap and has yet to be identified. Goodsman escaped with them.”

  “Linda is Chris’s number one fan. Or, I should say, she’s his character Tom’s number one fan.”

  “She believes she’s his mother.”

  “You’ve done your homework.”

  “A little light reading. She’s as crazy as he is, correct?”

  “Crazy is technically not a mental health term.”

  Mitch just stared at her.

  Emma let go a mental sigh. He was so sexy, standing there totally exasperated with her. “I’ve not had the pleasure of analyzing Linda in person, so I can’t attest to her true mental state, but she appears to suffer from delusions of grandeur. Meaning, she believes she is the famous character, Mary Monahan. Chris, on the other hand, wants everyone to believe he had a psychotic break and suffered from a similar delusion of being Tom, but believe me, he’s simply a sociopath manipulating the system.”

  “So you’ve said. This woman is dangerous, Dr. Collins. She’s willing to kill for him.”

  “I doubt she did any killing herself. Not her style.”

  “She has a beef with you, does she not?”

  Boy, did she. “She believes Chris is her son and he’s here to save the world. I’m a roadblock to that.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  Emma looked down at Salt and Pepper, both lying at Mitch’s feet again, panting and watching her. “Yes.”

  “I have to strongly recommend once more that we leave here and get you to a safe house.”

  Never. Running from Chris was one thing. Running from Linda was out of the question.

  She will not drive me from my home.

  Of course, not heeding Mitch’s warning was stupid. Which was exactly the look he was giving her—the how can you be a complete imbecile look.

  Emma steeled herself. “Two years ago, one of Chris’s fans upended my life. He took everything from me—the people I cared about, my home, the future I was planning. Please try to understand that this ranch, and everything I’ve built here, is the one thing that saved my sanity. Leaving here, giving Chris and Linda that kind of power, is the one thing I cannot do.”

  Leaving Mitch, she went inside. The kitchen felt warm and cozy, and she leaned her backside against the counter for a moment, drawing in deep breaths. He followed, the dogs trailing behind him.

  Yanking out the drawer beside the sink, she grabbed a bag of M&Ms from her secret stash. “I’m not scared of Linda Brown,” she told him around a mouthful of chocolate. She always went for the M&Ms when lying. “Let her come.”

  “Is there anything you are scared of?” Mitch asked, his eyes serious and thoughtful.

  “Sure,” she said, popping another M&M. “Plenty of things. The one thing I’m not scared of is crazy people.”

  Collins was either brave or incredibly stupid.

  At this point, Mitch was pretty sure she was both.

  The doctor hustled up the stairs, M&Ms in hand, acting like her pants were on fire. He’d seen the lie in her eyes, the tremble in her hands as she shoved the colorful chocolates into her mouth like a starving woman.

  Now, he watched her from the bottom of the stairs, trying not to enjoy the tight fitting jeans and the way they hugged her curvy ass.

  Damn, she was a handful.

  He sort of liked it.

  When was the last time a woman had told him no? The last time one had presented this much of a challenge?

  He couldn’t remember.

  “Where are you going?” he yelled up the stairs after her.

  “I have to record my notes from Danika’s session,” came her reply.

  That was it. The door to her office closed with a solid thunk.

  The ranch was too spread out for him to watch every inch and she had no security system. If she wouldn’t leave, the best he could do was stick to that sexy little ass of hers like glue.

  Travesty, that.

  Maybe if he became her shadow, didn’t give her a minute’s peace, he could convince her to go to the safe house. Drive her crazy and make her give in.

  He could drive anyone crazy. His mother always said it was a gift. She hadn’t meant it in a good way.

  Grinning for the first time in a long time, he climbed the stairs after Emma, the dogs on his heels. By the time he was done with the psychologist, she’d beg him to take her to the safe house.

  The moment he swung through her office door, not bothering to knock, the grin fell off his face.

  She stood immobile, eyes locked on her landline phone on the desk. The M&Ms had been dropped, the candies scattered at Emma’s feet.

  A woman’s voice filled the air. “While the world sleeps, Dr. Collins, Destiny plans. You will not take Tom from me again.”

  Mitch strode to the desk and mouthed, “Who is that?”

  She punched a button on the phone to mute their end. Her voice was low as she answered. “Who do you think?”

  “Linda Brown?” At her nod, he grabbed her hand. “Threatening you?”

  Her focus stayed on the phone. “In her own way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In your terms, it means she’s crazy.”

  A smile. Was she making a joke?

  The woman was still talking in the background. “How did she get this number?” he asked.

  “Good question.” Her gaze came up to his. “It’s unlisted.”

  He cocked his chin at the phone. “Let me talk to her.”

  “Reporters have the number, too. I have six messages from various media outlets wanting my comment.”

  “So someone got the number and shared it.”

  She nodded and unmuted the phone.

  Mitch interrupted Linda’s diatribe. “Linda Brown, this is Special Agent Mitch Holden. Why don’t you stop with the Monahan Chronicles verbiage and tell me where you’re hiding Chris Goodsman?”

  The woman hesitated for a second, then her voice filled the room again, rising with her words.

  “‘And the cyborgs will come to destroy Him, but The Chosen One will be protected by the Resistance, carrying fire in their hands. Fire will consume them, and He will rise from the ashes of their destruction.’ While the world sleeps, Dr. Collins, destiny plans. You will not take Tom from me again. I know who you are underneath your human skin. I know you’re the leader of the cyborgs. You will not succeed. I will stop you.”

  The call ended, a dial tone taking over and Linda’s voice echoing in the office.

  “I’d say that constitutes a threat,” Mitch said, picking up the handset and slamming it down for good measure.

  Emma pulled her hand from his, bending down to scoop up the scattered M&Ms. Both dogs whined and nudged Emma’s legs, her hands. Dumping her collection of the candies in the trash, she brushed her hands together, then petted their heads and leaned on the edge of the desk. “It’s not credible. She’s bluffing. She won’t come after me unless I get in her way. She’s all talk.”

  “She ran that transport off the road and killed the driver.”

  “I doubt she drove or pulled the trigger. She wanted you to see her face so all the ‘resistance’ fighters would know she was involved in the rescue when the video was released to the media, but she’s not one to do the dirty work, even if she claims to be a resistance fighter. That much I have ascertained from studying her social media habits.”

  “That so?” Mitch pulled up the text from Dupé he’d received earlier and held it out for her to read.

  Second armed guard, severely injured. Reports Brown shot driver point blank.

  Her body language
didn’t change, yet he sensed she was controlling it on purpose. “I’d like to see the footage.”

  She tried to take his phone and tap the video clip attached to the text but Mitch held tight. She didn’t need to see the camera catching the driver’s calls for help. He’d been pinned by the steering wheel, unable to do more than pull his gun from its holster as Brown busted in the door, pronounced some of her TV show mumbo-jumbo, and shot him point blank.

  Emma’s fingers were warm against his and her eyes rose up to meet his gaze. Something sizzled between them. For a second, they stood like that, each vying for the phone without actually moving a muscle. Underneath the conquest of the phone was something else. Raw. Sensual.

  Power of will was a funny thing. Mitch had learned that in the field, seeing injured soldiers ignore busted knees, broken wrists, and gunshot wounds in order to save one of their own. Hell, he’d carried a few men himself across enemy lines to safety, willpower the only thing keeping his injured body moving.

  But not Mac. There’d been nothing left of Mac to carry home.

  Emma released the phone and broke eye contact. Cleared her throat. “Linda is no doubt enjoying Chris’s company and not worrying about me, other than to throw out threats. It empowers her. Makes her feel in control.”

  “He’s with her right now, isn’t he? So if we hunt down Linda Brown, we’ll find Goodsman.”

  “It’s possible.”

  Mitch pulled his cell out and dialed Cooper. The call went nowhere. “Dammit, the cell tower’s out again.”

  “Try this.” Emma scooted the desk phone toward him. “The landlines were out yesterday, but they’re obviously working today.”

  Mitch picked up the handset and started to dial, dropped it back into the cradle. “No dial tone.”

  “It will come back.”

  “Do you have any idea where Linda might hang out? Where she might hide Goodsman?”

  “No clue, but maybe something will be said in the fan forums. She’ll want to gloat about rescuing Chris.”

  “I didn’t see anything last night when I was researching, but I’ll check out more in-depth stuff while you write up your notes.”