by Sarah Blair
After another half an hour of rehearsing the new techniques, she was sweaty and tired, but her body still thrummed with unspent desire. A need she clearly wasn’t going to be able to will away.
In an attempt to distract herself another way, she grabbed her phone and dug for information on the event Hutch’s dad might have been referring to. It wasn’t sex, but putting her nose to the ground on a mystery was the next best thing.
It didn’t take her long to solve, though, as the headline jumped out immediately:
ANIMALS OF THE OUTBACK UNLEASHED!
Okay, no wonder he’d assumed she was going. It was kind of a big deal. Peyton Remington had co-chaired a gala benefit for a new addition to the Central Park Zoo. She’d been lined up to give the keynote speech, but instead, the benefit had turned into a memorial gathering. No doubt a chance for extra publicity and a way to squeeze more sympathy dollars out of everyone.
The idea of a gala made Sidney’s airways constrict. The summer after she’d graduated from boarding school and before she’d joined the agency was a non-stop barrage of parties, benefits, and galas just like this one. Any excuse to hit up an open bar in an exclusive designer gown. It was exhausting, but that had been what she wanted at the time. If she slowed down at all, her memories caught up to her. It was the only way she had to escape.
The tabloids had eaten it up. Paparazzi followed her everywhere. Her grandfather threatened to cut her off. She didn’t care about any of it. She just wanted to not think about that monster prowling inside her head.
One of the photographers fixated on her. He followed her into a club, slipped something into her drink, and sold the photos of a night she couldn’t even remember. They went viral. It was her first and last scandal.
Mitch came to her again, after the second worst night of her life, and she quit it all cold-turkey when she signed on with the agency. The first month was tough, but surprisingly few people checked in on her when she stopped showing up, and after enough missed events, no one did. Not even her grandfather. It proved to her just how much she meant to any of them, and after that it was easy to let it all go.
Revisiting that life was the very last thing she wanted to do. But, Peyton’s mutilated body came back to mind, slashed and bloody. She was the victim in all this, and she deserved a better ending to her story.
Tom said she’d been attacked by koalas at some point before her murder. The zoo was a logical place to check for more information. Plus, if Hutch was going to be there, maybe he could provide further insight. Other people who knew Peyton would be there, too. She could question them and track down a lead. It was worth a shot, anyway.
Sidney trudged up the stairs, to her apartment, dread filling her with each step once she understood what she needed to do. She messaged her stylist Drew and begged them to come over for an emergency session. After that, she made a donation to the zoo that took up nearly all of her charitable budget for the entire year.
Once everything was settled, she checked the time. There was still an hour to kill before Drew and their team arrived. Nervous energy filled Sidney to the brim, and she circled through her apartment like a freshly sacrificed chicken. The idea of going to the party alone made her stomach cramp with anxiety.
Mitch wasn’t an option. He had his own thing going on, and she wasn’t sure he’d appreciate her doing any investigating off the books. She messaged the next best option. While she waited for confirmation, she decided a bath might help calm her down. She was still sweaty from the dojo and needed a fresh palette for Drew and the rest of the team to work with.
Her hands shook when she stepped over to turn on the bath water. She added lavender oil along with an unscented soap into her cast iron clawfoot tub. She gave the tub some time to fill while she undressed. The Chrysler Building peeked in through the sheer curtains, and the warm afternoon sun lit up the bubbles in infinite prisms. She stepped into the steaming water and sank down. Tension melted out of her immediately and her breathing evened. The trembling stopped and all of the anxiety seeped out of her body.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d call it magic.
But she’d seen real magic. Or at least the effects of it. In reports. Not that she’d had any time in the field to witness anything first-hand.
The grumpiness from earlier that morning threatened to return, but the water held it at bay.
She had two mysteries on her plate and she wasn’t sure which was more enticing. Peyton’s murder was a good solid puzzle to chew on. Intriguing, certainly, but much less personal. If she hadn’t known Hutch, she wouldn’t have pursued it at all.
The easiest to solve would likely be the chief’s. If she had to put money down, she’d bet he was married. It hadn’t escaped her notice, the way he’d played with his phantom wedding band. An old habit. That mystery would be the easier one to solve. All she technically had to do was ask. Not that he’d answer. He didn’t owe her anything. But why did he insist on keeping her at a distance?
The water rippled with her bitter laugh.
Right.
“Self-preservation. You know all about that, don’t you, Sid?” She slopped a folded wash cloth over her eyes, and her thoughts were right back to the place she’d been trying to avoid.
Mitch wasn’t interested in her.
He was twice her age.
Her boss.
Anything more than professionalism between them simply couldn’t happen. It would be a disaster. No matter how much it felt like something different earlier—something more than just drinks between colleagues—it wasn’t.
Even though she tried, she couldn’t imagine away the gentle reverence of his lips on hers. Out of all the men she’d been with, none of them had ever inspired a connection in her the way he did.
They were always so eager, so ready to rush in and devour her. But not Mitch.
When his lips met hers it wasn’t a means to an end. It was everything and nothing more. That kiss was real, and so was the way it lit her body on fire every time she thought about it.
Sidney brought her hand to the apex of her thighs. The surface of the water lapped at her nipples. Cool air and desire teased them into hardened peaks. Fingers circled her clit, waking the little bundle of nerves, sending tingles through her core. The warm water mixed with her own moisture and her body swelled as need rushed to her center. A soft moan echoed across the high ceiling.
Another time and place drifted to her mind. Hutch’s hands low on her waist as he pulled her through the water into his lap. She’d been vibrating with a thrilling curiosity, her first time ever, anxious to know what it would feel like to have someone else inside her. He was gentle, letting her take the lead.
The shock of pain made her see stars when she sank down all the way. But the ache faded, melting into something so much better. She liked the way her nipples felt tracing lines across his chest, and the way his muscled arms wrapped around her body.
He was a sloppy kisser, though. All tongue and saliva. It felt great later when he went down on her. She was ready and eager, and they’d spent all night in the frosty moonlit shadow of the Matterhorn trying every position and technique they could think of. It felt good, and it was fun, but she hadn’t formed any kind of attachment. It was just sex. It had always been just sex. Until now.
Now, it wasn’t her hand, or even Hutch’s she wanted. Sidney imagined Mitch’s enormous fingers splayed across her back, and how they would feel sliding down between her legs. She pressed her own fingers inside, wishing they were his. How much farther could he reach? Would he be able to touch that spot she could never quite manage to get to herself?
Sidney groaned and arched her back. She pinched down on her nipple, thinking of Mitch’s lips tugging and pulling there with the same steady precision he’d used kissing her mouth. She braced her knees against the tub. Spreading herself wide, she rolled her hips against the heel of her hand. Her body clenched down hard, then released in waves, clenching around her fingers until she was left
breathless in the cooling water.
Finally she sat up, pulling the cloth away from her eyes. The remains of the bubbles swirled across the water’s surface like murky fog.
“Shit,” she whispered.
Eleven
“Shit. Everything?”
Mitch felt the world drop away and he tumbled into yet another free fall. This day was treating his balls like a fucking punching bag.
“Everything.” His lawyer repeated. She tucked her salt and pepper hair behind her ear. “$1.6 million in liquid assets, a little over three in the trust, and you can get six from the condo, minimum. Probably closer to eight-and-a-half if you freshen it up.”
“How? None of that is mine. It was all hers. It always was. You had the wills updated after the divorce. I signed all the papers.”
She tossed her hands up. “She didn’t.”
“Of course she didn’t.” Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose, head throbbing once again. He shoved the files back across the desk. “Well, I don’t want it.”
His attorney sat back. “You’re in shock. Give it some time.”
“Don’t lawyer me, Jane.”
“I’m not acting as your attorney right now. I’m telling you as a friend. Wait.”
“I told you. I didn’t want it then, and I don’t want it now,” he insisted.
“This isn’t just advice, Mitch. Everyone will say the same thing. Give it a year. Grief takes time to process.”
“I’m not grieving!” he roared.
She arched her brows and he checked himself.
“Grieving is what I did after the first miscarriage. And the three after that.” He eased his shoulders down and rolled the kinks out of his jaw. “And it’s what I did when I finally realized she just wasn’t going to change. I grieved for my marriage. For everything it could have been and wasn’t.
“I’m done. I finished with all that three years ago, and I’ll be damned if I start again now.” He pushed himself out of the chair and shrugged on his coat. “Have the power of attorney documents drawn up, and I’ll sign tomorrow. I want you to sell the condo and every goddamned thing in it. Then take every single dollar and light it on fucking fire.”
“Mitch—”
He shoved her office door open. “Just get it done!”
His feet hit the pavement of Chambers Street with a heavy stride, heart pounding so hard he wondered if he might be having a heart attack. He was getting to be the right age for one, just a few years shy of Deirdre’s father.
But he took care of himself. He ate well. Mostly. He ran when he could. Okay, maybe he could run more. Start eating salads for lunch. Salads instead of oysters.
Christ.
Mitch slowed and stopped at the crosswalk. City Hall Park was across the street. He could go sit for awhile and watch the people, or take a long, easy stroll across the bridge. He’d dropped Lake off at her place earlier, he’d have the office to himself.
A long walk and losing himself in work really wasn’t what he needed to help him settle down, though. He needed sweat, skin, sheets. It had been way too long.
He needed to get laid.
A quick glance at his watch let him know it was just the right time to drop in on a friend for a late coffee, and maybe an early dinner, and maybe . . . .
Even though it had been years since he’d retired, his muscle memory took over when he entered the Federal Building and he automatically reached for his badge and service weapon. His badge wasn’t there, but his weapon was and he placed it on the table before he glanced up, startled to see a new face.
“Where’s Raul?” Mitch asked.
“Vacation.” The guard gave a pointed stare at Mitch’s firearm, then studied his ID.
“Raul doesn’t take vacations.” He squinted at the guard’s badge.
“Does now, I guess.” Armand shrugged. “You got an appointment?”
Damn it. He’d wanted to surprise her.
“No,” he said. “I was nearby and thought I’d drop in on an old colleague. Dr. Chandler, BAU.”
“Step over here for me, please. I’m going to have to call up.”
“Sure.”
Mitch stepped over to let the short line that had piled up behind him pass through the metal detector. The people entering all had badges and sailed through without a problem.
When did they get so young?
Mitch’s ears perked up and he listened in on the guard’s conversation.
“Yes, m’am. Guy down here says he’s looking for Dr. Chandler, but there’s no one listed in the directory. Do you know if he’s moved to another field office? Mitchell Harris. Oh! My apologies, Mrs. Burkes— uh, Dr. Burkes. I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry. Right, I’ll let him know.”
Burkes? What the fuck?
“She’ll be right down.” Armand returned his ID and weapon.
It took an extra second for Mitch to register the guard’s words. He wasn’t supposed to have heard the rest. “She doesn’t need to come down. I know where her office is.”
The friendliness faded from his eyes. “She’s on her way down.”
Message received.
“Thanks.” Mitch resettled his wallet and weapon, fighting the urge to pace the lobby. He kept his eyes focused squarely on the plaza out front, and it felt like forever before he heard his name.
“Mitch?” The familiar voice sent relief rushing through his body. He hadn’t realized exactly how much he’d missed the smooth alto tone. “Sorry about the trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He turned, ready to receive the customary peck on the cheek she always greeted him with, but it didn’t come.
He met her eyes briefly before she shot a glance to the security camera over the door and sailed right past him into the quickly chilling air. He stared at the back of her dusty blonde hair. It was up in a twist, and he ached to taste the smooth white curve of her neck. If only she’d slow down.
“You look like shit. What’s wrong?” she asked when he caught up.
Everything was off.
Usually he got a smile out of her, sometimes even a sexy little quip if she was feeling flirty. Today, her face was scrunched into a scowl and other than the one brief glance, she wouldn’t even look at him.
“Who’s Mrs. Burkes?” he matched her quick pace.
None of this was going the way he’d expected. He’d wanted to tell her the news about Deirdre in private, in her office. Now, he definitely didn’t want the answer to his question. He regretted asking all together.
“Do I want to know?” Dread churned his stomach.
“Probably not.” She stopped short and turned, holding up her left hand. A massive diamond winked brightly in the late afternoon sun. It had to be at least four carats. “I certainly didn’t intend on telling you like this.”
“What the fuck, Rebecca. Who—” He plowed through his mental list of names until he landed on a familiar one. “Chuck? You married Chuck fucking Assistant Director Burkes?”
“Associate Executive Director Burkes.” She dropped her hand and turned away. “It just happened.”
“And I suppose my invitation just got lost in the mail?” he couldn’t help but let the bitterness slip into his words.
“We eloped. Nobody got an invite.” She crossed her arms, still refusing to look at him. “But no, most women don’t typically invite their fuck buddies to their wedding.”
“Is it because he has more hair than I do?” He hoped a joke would add some levity, but it only came out sounding jealous and condescending.
“Fucking Christ, Mitch! I knew you were gonna be pissed, but I didn’t think you’d stoop to pettiness. You have no right to be defensive about this. You don’t own me.”
“Oh? Tell me who’s being defensive here, Doctor Burkes.” He counted off on his fingers. “Crossed arms. Clenched jaw. Averted gaze. I may have been out of the Bureau awhile, but I’m not out of practice.”
She sighed and dropped her arms, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. The
challenge drained away, leaving them soft and gray, like the sky after a raging storm. “Why are you here, Mitch?”
He realized it had been all day and he still hadn’t said the words out loud. Even in the brief call to his mother-in-law, he’d kept it sterile. She’d been found and he was making arrangements. That was it.
How could two little words feel so big all of a sudden? Mitch sucked in a deep breath and tried to spit them out, but they just wouldn’t come.
He turned his back to Rebecca, unable to stand those eyes that had always been able to read him so easily. One thing about being in any kind of relationship with an accomplished profiler was that there was no room for bullshit.
As much as he wanted to tell her to have a nice life and walk away from it all, there was no way in hell she’d let him off the hook so easily.
Cool fingers curled gently around his wrist as she came around to face him. “Hey, what is it? You can tell me.”
“‘Cause we’re fuck buddies?” There was no bitterness left, only resignation and a whole slew of disappointment.
“Because we’re friends.” She smoothed her palm over his afternoon scruff, despite the fact they remained within full view of the cameras. The pesky little spying devices were in place to prevent crimes and terrorism, but he knew they caught so much more than that. An Executive Assistant Director would have full access and a lot of questions about what was being filmed right now on the plaza.
Mitch wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his Rebecca’s neck, to let her wrap her arms around him, to take comfort in her scent and the warmth of her body. But he couldn’t do that.
Not here. Not now. Not ever again.
For her sake, he put some space between them. But he still held onto her hand with both of his, circling his thumb around the ridiculous jewel decorating her finger while he wrapped his mind around the idea of what it meant.
“Dee’s dead.”
“Oh, my God. When?”
“Sometime last night.”
“Shit. Mitch, I—shit.” She stared at him.