She pulled away. “No. I’ll head back. I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Don’t.” An edge sharpened the word.
Her head snapped up at his tone. “Don’t what?”
He walked toward her, forcing her backward until she hit the window, the glass frigid against her bare flesh.
“Run away.” He gently tapped her forehead. “In here.” Then he pressed his hand against her heart. “And here.”
Her throat swelled in a familiar overload of emotion. “I’m not running away,” she lied. “I’m just not making this into a big thing.”
He tipped his head, his expression incredulous. “Seriously? Last night wasn’t a big thing?”
“It was just sex.”
He grunted.
Holding onto the towel, she slipped under his arm. “We just met. Under terrible circumstances,” she added when he made another sound of frustration.
He tugged his shoulder holster over his arms. Everything about him was mesmerizing and she didn’t want to fall victim to his appeal. Even if they fell in love—which was ridiculously fairytale—his job was dangerous. The idea that he might die and leave her alone, just like everyone else in her life had left her alone, wasn’t something she could contemplate.
She couldn’t do it.
She forced herself to find her clothes and get dressed, rather than just watch him with moonstruck eyes. She pulled on her jeans and t-shirt, giving up the search for her bra and other sock. She was lacing her running shoes when he came through into the living room looking like a just-got-laid, well-groomed, well-rested, G-man.
He smiled and her ovaries went bang.
She dragged a hand through her wild hair and decided the world really wasn’t fair. He trapped her before she knew what was happening and kissed her again, hard, insistent, as if they had time for another round. Holding her against the wall until she melted. There was no other word for it, her bones dissolved as his mouth explored hers.
Oh, God. He wrung that response from her effortlessly, lust igniting like fireworks in her blood. Just as quickly he pulled back, his hand still lodged possessively in her hair, gently holding her nape. “I’ll follow you back to the hotel.”
She shook her head, put her hands against the cool, clean cotton of his shirt and pushed him away. “You’ll be late.”
“Someone tried to kill you yesterday, Pip. I want to make sure you get back safe and sound.”
Was that why he’d brought her here? To protect her? She stared into those blue eyes of his, gold rings shadowed and muted.
“I don’t need you looking out for me, Kincaid.”
He released her and shrugged into his suit jacket. “I don’t have time to discuss this.”
There was an urgency in his voice, a firmness that told her he meant what he said and wasn’t backing down.
“Fine.”
She didn’t have the energy to argue, not after the night they’d shared, especially knowing it was probably going to be the only time they’d be together like that.
They left the house and he armed his alarm and locked the door. The morning was quiet as Pip climbed into Cindy’s SUV and started the engine. He followed her all the way to the hotel and flashed his headlights as she turned into the valet parking area. She sat and stared at the Buick as he headed past for the office, driving faster now that he’d fulfilled his responsibility in making sure she got home safely after a night in his bed.
She sighed, her body lax and sated.
“Stick with the program, West,” she told herself firmly.
Give Cindy the best funeral she knew how and figure out who her friend had had sex with. Pip was convinced that the last person Cindy had seen was the person responsible for giving her the drugs. Pip would figure it out eventually. She just had to keep asking the right questions.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hunt jogged up the stairs to the SAC’s office. Pip was right. He was late. But he’d needed to see her safely back to the hotel. He wasn’t sure what he’d got into. Since he’d broken his leg last year, sex generally left him with a vague sense of dissatisfaction, not that he’d ever admit it. Sex had lost some of its appeal.
Not with Pip last night.
He’d been in plenty of short-term relationships, but this didn’t feel like those. Maybe because, however obliquely, she was related to his job and he knew more about who she was under pressure than any other lover he’d ever had.
They’d been in complete sync for hours, each knowing what the other wanted, each pleasuring the other above their own wants and needs. Or maybe it was a temporary sexual blip, a reaction to their near-death experience yesterday. But there was no chance of a relationship for them. Not only was she career kryptonite, she constantly got herself into trouble.
A cold sweat broke out at just the thought of trying to keep her safe. He’d smother her and she’d hate him for it.
The office was dark, with pockets of activity in some of the gray cubicles that formed the bullpen. On the top floor Bourne’s secretary sat behind her desk and told him to go right in.
McKenzie was on the screen. They all looked at him as he shut the door and threw himself into the empty seat.
“They sent us a video message,” McKenzie said. “Show him.”
Bourne turned a laptop toward him. There was a video file and Hunt pressed play.
A figure wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled low over his face sat in the shadows. It was impossible to make out features.
The figure began speaking. “The FBI are looking for the creators of the next great plague.” The voice was electronically disguised and sounded sinister and evil.
Hunt’s lips firmed. It was an old trick and he wasn’t falling for cheap propaganda tools.
“You won’t find us. We are smoke. We are shadow.” The words reverberated menacingly. “We are everywhere and nowhere. Stop looking and we will be merciful. We will stop the plague before it begins.”
The figure leaned forward although the shadows were too dark to make out features. The wall behind was dark gray painted breeze blocks. “If you don’t stop your investigation we will release the plague in New York City and Miami, San Francisco and Houston. In every major city in the U.S. It will kill like the great plagues of Egypt. Death will be swift. Death will be excruciating. Death will be mercy. It will destroy millions of lives and taint the air for a thousand years.”
Revulsion pulsed around Hunt’s body.
“To prove we are telling the truth we have organized a demonstration.” The hooded figure lifted his wrist as if to check his watch, but there was nothing there. “It just took off.” The figure seemed to smile, layer upon layer of dark shadow. “Cease your investigations. This is your one and only warning. Or we will release more, and soon. Millions will die.”
The video went blank and Hunt sat there with his heart pounding.
“Any reports of sickness?” asked Hunt.
McKenzie shook his head. “We got this an hour ago. I’ve sent copies for image and linguistic analysis and have cyber experts trying to trace where it came from and where it was filmed. We have agents rushing to every airport with every rapid field test machine that we can use for anthrax. Nothing yet.”
“So you’re thinking airliner rather than missile?” asked Hunt.
McKenzie nodded. “No reports of any missiles fired. Military has been put on red alert.”
“Thank Christ,” Bourne added.
Hunt swore. “They’re trying to blackmail us.”
McKenzie nodded. “A foreign intelligence source sent us some fingerprint information last night they say is from the packaging used to mail the bioweapon to the arms dealer in France. Fingerprint came back to a freight handler at Atlanta airport. I want a team on him but it’s likely he just handled the package as part of his job.”
“It’s a massive transportation hub.” SAC Bourne nodded.
“But it’s a lead that once again narrows down our focus to your neck of the wood
s. I just spoke to Dr. Place at the CDC. They’re trying to mass produce the vaccine but, as he said yesterday, the procedure takes time. They are going to conduct tests today to see whether or not it’s effective against the weaponized strain of anthrax the bastards tried to sell to terrorists.”
Hunt thought about Cindy Resnick’s work. The professor had seemed confident it would work on any strain. Had Jez Place looked through Cindy Resnick’s thesis yet? Was her breakthrough legit, or hyperbole?
“These bad guys heard about our investigation. Does that mean it’s someone we talked to?” Hunt asked.
McKenzie shook his head. “Hard to know. A week ago, the FBI ruined their little arms deal. They might have made the video then. They have to know we’re investigating. Or maybe we are getting close and they’re stalling for time.”
“Why stall?” asked Hunt. “To produce more of their deadly anthrax? Why not just get out of the country and take their secrets with them? Set up somewhere else?”
“If they run, they risk revealing their identities,” said Frazer who suddenly came on screen, looking out of breath. “Not just to us but also to the buyers of biological weapons. These are not nice people to have chasing you.”
“And the last thing we want is the Russians or Iranians getting hold of this stuff or its creators,” Hunt murmured.
“They have their own hot strains, but I bet they’d be interested in a vaccine that the sellers claim works against even the most aggressive form of the bacteria,” mulled McKenzie out loud. “A vaccine that might neutralize all their biological weapons.”
Hunt kept thinking about Cindy Resnick. Had her discovery really been as revolutionary as Professor Everson stated? Was it related to BLACKCLOUD, or a parallel discovery based on the same progressive technology?
“So you think these UNSUBs are staying in the U.S. because they’re too cowardly to go elsewhere?” asked Bourne.
It was fucked up.
“They never expected the FBI to be onto them this fast. They expected to be rolling in cryptocurrency just about now, cracking open the bubbly. The fact we stopped that sale is a miracle,” Frazer said. “Maybe they simply don’t have the money to run.”
The mention of champagne also reminded Hunt of Cindy.
“It strikes me whoever is doing this genuinely thinks they can get away with it,” McKenzie put in.
“They think they’re smarter than we are.” And that pissed Hunt off. “Anything from the communications angle?”
“We’ve managed to exclude hundreds of people from the investigation, but whoever is doing this has been very careful to cover their tracks. But they just made a big mistake. They’ve given us a lot of fresh clues to follow by making this video,” McKenzie said.
“Or they want to slow us down. Are they bluffing about this demonstration?” Hunt asked.
No one answered. It wasn’t like the FBI would stop investigating a crime of this nature. They’d already been pretty subtle, to everyone except the people who knew they were after them.
McKenzie answered a call on his end then looked up at the screen. “A co-pilot just collapsed en route from Atlanta to Phoenix. We’re having them divert the plane to a military base in Utah where we can isolate them and check for anthrax infection. I need to go deal with this.”
“Do we stand down with this investigation?” Bourne asked.
“No, sir. You put every available agent on this. We just hit warp speed and I’m thinking Atlanta is ground zero. Kincaid is the case agent on this.”
As hungry as he was for the honor, it would interfere with his plans for HRT. “I’m flattered sir,” and it was a hell of a good opportunity, and possibly a career changing case, “but I’ve got a really good feel for some of these people. I think I’m of more use on the ground.” And that was true, he realized. He’d be more useful poking scientists he’d established a relationship with just a little harder rather than coordinating an investigation that would be a full-time job for years to come.
McKenzie paused to consider him carefully. “I spoke to the Director before talking to you. This is the number one priority in the Bureau as of today and we’re going to want most of the agents in the Atlanta FO working on this, but not one word of this can leak to anyone, especially not the press.”
Hunt ignored the look his SAC threw at him. He had no intention of telling Pip about the bioweapon. It wasn’t relevant to their relationship. And the fact he was calling it a relationship scared the ever-loving shit out of him.
“We’ll figure out a cover story to tell the other airline passengers. The airbase in Utah is remote enough they might believe there’s no tower coverage when locals tell them their cell phones won’t work. If this thing is as fast-acting as these assholes claim we’ll know if this is related to BLACKCLOUD by the end of the day. Hopefully the CDC can bulk generate the vaccine in time to circumvent a mass outbreak.” Everyone’s expression turned grim. “Let’s reconvene in two hours.”
McKenzie and Frazer cut the connection.
Bourne ran his finger around the inside of his collar. “We’ll set up in the incident room. I want the blinds drawn and a total media blackout. Why don’t you want the job, Kincaid?”
Hunt met the man’s stare head-on. “The reason I stated.” He cleared his throat. “Also because I plan to apply for HRT. I don’t want to disrupt or slow this investigation if it’s still ongoing.”
Bourne nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t want to be dealing with this until the day I retire. I want these people found and this case closed.”
The sooner the better.
“I’m gonna put ASAC Levi in charge of this so let’s call him in and get him up to speed,” ordered Bourne.
Hunt nodded and went to the door and asked the secretary to call the man. Levi was a short, bullish guy with salt and pepper gray hair. He was also brilliant and had cut his teeth on undercover mafia cases in the New York Field Office.
A million thoughts whirled through Hunt’s mind. He couldn’t shake the idea that something had rattled the would-be anthrax producer into sending this video. Had Hunt spoken to him? Scared him? Was he stalling or did he mean what he said about the FBI backing off?
The bad guy had to know the FBI would never back off in the face of such a threat to public safety. A bit like Pip and her investigation into her friend’s death.
Shit.
He hoped she was okay. He hoped what had happened between them last night hadn’t freaked her out. He hoped she was taking precautions with her safety. He’d check on her later, but people’s lives were at risk and he couldn’t abandon his duty to protect them just because the woman he was starting to care about was relationship shy. The irony was staggering. He was usually the one running from any form of commitment but last night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just the mind-blowing sex. Getting her to commit to anything except a one-time thing might prove difficult. She was slippery and evasive. Still, he was good at what he did, and he was determined. Pip West had exploded into his life and he wanted to get to know her better even though the chance of a future together was remote.
He also wanted more mind-blowing sex, he admitted to himself. He might be an FBI agent but he was also a man, and the man wanted Pip in every possible way. But she probably needed a little time and space instead of more pressure from some over keen love interest.
Don’t be that guy, Kincaid.
And he had a job to do. A very important job. Thirty minutes later ASAC Levi burst into the room and Hunt started filling the man in. The dawning look of horror on Levi’s face reflected everyone’s feelings.
This UNSUB was smart and desperate and didn’t care who he sacrificed, as long as he didn’t get caught. Catching him before anyone died was going to require a miracle.
* * *
At nine AM, Pip knocked on Cindy’s advisor’s door at Blake. She’d been emailing and calling the guy over the last couple of days but he hadn’t replied.
After lea
ving Hunt’s townhouse, she’d gone back to her hotel room and showered and tried to forget about how good it had felt to be in his arms.
What was wrong with her? Having sex with a guy she’d met over her friend’s dead body. Who did that?
The rude noise in her head sounded like Cindy blowing a raspberry.
What were you doing, Cindy? Who were you involved with? Why did you have to go and die?
She knocked on the door again and was about to turn and leave when she saw another professor walking down the hall towards her.
“Professor Everson has taken a few days off. You should have the email address of your TA—”
“I’m not a student,” Pip interrupted quickly. “I’m a friend of Cindy Resnick’s.” Pip had actually met this woman after Cindy’s family’s funeral but didn’t remember her name.
The professor’s gaze cleared. She was carrying a polystyrene container under one arm. “Ah, I remember you now. Sorry, I’m really bad at recognizing people out of context. I am so very sorry about Cindy, and Sally-Anne.” She balanced the container on one hip and unlocked a door with the name “Prof. K. Spalding. Departmental Head” on the door and went inside.
Pip hung around the open doorway.
Spalding put the white box on top of the papers and sat behind her desk. “I’ve been dealing with a lot of administration nightmares caused by Cindy and Sally-Anne’s death and trying to make sure no one else does anything stupid.”
Pip flinched.
Spalding eyed her critically. “It’s a terrible thing. We’re all in shock.”
No kidding. Pip pushed on. “I was hoping to ask the professor to be one of her pallbearers and possibly do a reading at the service, but he hasn’t answered my emails or phone messages.”
“I can email him but I can’t give you his number.”
“I have his number,” Pip admitted. She’d taken Cindy’s address book from the house. “He’s not answering the phone.”
“I’m sorry,” Spalding’s eyes softened. “When is the funeral?”
“Sunday. Two o’clock at St. David’s.” Pip crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s short notice but it’s the church Cindy’s parents attended and that’s the only time available for the next week and, well…” She’d arranged almost everything else. The death certificate had been signed. The casket chosen. Adrian Lightfoot had taken care of most of the paperwork. The family burial plot was big enough to include Cindy so Pip hadn’t had to worry about that either. She knew what flowers Cindy liked—roses, not lilies—and she’d chosen an outfit for her to be buried in—black pants and a long-sleeved designer blue blouse that had been Cindy’s favorite. The music was Samuel Barber’s “Adagio for Strings” that Cindy had chosen for her parents’ service, and “Yesterday” by The Beatles because Cindy adored them.
Cold Blooded Page 25