Cold Blooded

by Toni Anderson

  Shit. Someone had hit her hard enough to knock her out.

  Anger filled him but he pushed it aside. He needed a cool head to do his job. He didn’t dare move her unless she was in imminent danger. He might cause irreparable harm if he did. He waved Will over. “She’s breathing but unconscious. Go up to the road and call for an ambulance. I’m going to take a quick look around, see what I can see.”

  He didn’t give Will time to argue. He eased around the eastern side of the cabin and slipped quietly up the stairs that led toward the deck. He crouched as soon as he had a visual. The entire front of the building was windows and he held still and peered inside, trying to make sense of the deepening shadows. It took time for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. Nothing moved. Every second away from Pip felt like hours but he had to secure the scene and make sure it was safe for the paramedics to approach.

  A movement caught his eye. Something sleek and feline. A white cat. The animal was lapping at something on the floor.

  Ah, shit.

  Hunt finally made out the shape in the chair. It was a person, and from the lack of movement they were also unconscious or dead.

  He eased back down the steps and went back around the rear of the property.

  Jez appeared out of the shadows, holding the anthrax detector aloft, taking measurements.

  Hunt waited for Will to return, one hand on Pip’s back trying to comfort her, the other holding his gun drawn, ready for trouble. A couple of minutes later, Will returned, blowing hard, lungs panting. Hunt handed him a set of breathing apparatus, and Will slung his rifle across his back, SIG Sauer in hand.

  Hunt nodded silently and they both pulled on the masks. It had a clear plastic face plate with good vision. Backup wasn’t far away. They didn’t have time to hang around if Pip was going to get the help she needed. Hunt pushed her out of his head even as worry ate at him.

  He used hand signals to tell the scientist to stay put. He and Will inched past Pip up the front stairs. Hunt kept his eyes off her lax form.

  He and Will headed inside. Closing the door behind them as they entered. If there were anthrax spores here he didn’t want them escaping.

  His breathing sounded loud in his ears, his heart rate faster than he wanted. Worry for Pip was dragging at his concentration and he couldn’t afford the distraction. Neither could his partner.

  He waited a moment, settled his spinning brain and nodded at the other man when he was ready. They moved in rapid formation, clearing each room, looking for danger and UNSUBs. In the living room, Professor Everson was sitting in the chair, gun in his right hand. The cat looked up, blood on her whiskers and Hunt’s stomach turned. The creature was lapping at the professor’s blood. He snapped back to the moment, checking behind the kitchen island, the bathroom, up the stairs, moving quickly, efficiently.

  Sweat ran down his back, his breath fogging up the inside plastic of the mask.

  “It’s clear,” Will stated.

  Lowering his weapon, Hunt jogged back down the stairs and checked Everson’s pulse. Dead. Half his brain was missing so it was just as well.

  A camera sat on the small table beside the recliner. A laptop computer was open on the kitchen island. Hunt went over and tapped a button, expecting a password request but instead opening to a Word file.

  “Suicide note.” Hunt scanned it quickly. “Says here he’s the one who tried to sell the anthrax. Scene’s secure. Let’s get out of here and let Jez test the place while we get Pip the help she needs.”

  Will nodded and they headed out the way they’d come in, whipping off the heavy plastic and gulping in gallons of fresh air. Jez waved the wand of the machine over them both but nodded indicating they appeared anthrax free.

  Hunt went to Pip’s side and touched her cheek. Blood matted her hair. “Pip.”

  She groaned and it was pretty much the best sound he’d ever heard, with or without clothes on.

  “You’re okay, Pip. Hang in there. We’re gonna get you some help.” Will had jogged back up to the road and Hunt knew he’d have the ambulance crew there ASAP.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Thank God.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I’m hoping you can tell me.”

  She tried to move and he pressed his hand to her shoulder. “Stay still. Paramedics are on the way.”

  She stilled but a frown formed between those dark eyes of hers. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t even know where I am.”

  “But you know who I am?” he asked cautiously.

  She tried to laugh and winced. “I even remember you naked.”

  Hunt grinned, grateful Jez had gone inside to check for contamination. He wasn’t ashamed of Pip. But this thing between them was new and it wasn’t anyone else’s business.

  Seeing her hurt had made him appreciate he cared about her way more than he’d realized.

  The sound of sirens and flash of lights as the cavalry arrived stopped him worrying about it. She was alive. The professor was the likely source of this anthrax and…and what? As soon as the call for selection went out he was off to Virginia.

  But selection didn’t last forever and when it was over maybe Pip would be interested in seeing him again.

  And if he didn’t make it into HRT…

  He shook his head. He wasn’t prepared to think that way. He had no intention of failing selection. Sure, they could still not pick him for the teams, but not because he failed.

  Pip’s hand snuck into his and squeezed. “Stay with me.”

  His heart gave a twist. “I need to do some things here first. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I can. Okay?”

  Her mouth tightened and she blinked and withdrew her hand from his. “Okay.”

  He was pushed aside by a medic carrying a neck brace.

  Hunt stood on the sidelines and watched them carefully move Pip onto a backboard and stretcher, and carefully load her onto the rig. She wouldn’t meet his gaze and even though he wanted to be with her he couldn’t. He had a job to do and part of that included figuring out what she was doing here and who the hell had hurt her. There was no weapon on the ground, nothing that looked like it could have been used to knock her unconscious.

  If he had to guess he’d say the professor used his pistol to knock Pip unconscious before blowing his brains out, but the FBI didn’t guess at evidence. They collected it. And because of his relationship with Pip he needed to take a backseat in this part of the case so he didn’t jeopardize anything in court. He couldn’t go with Pip either, until she’d been interviewed. Even talking to her just now could violate some procedure somewhere but he hadn’t been about to stand by and watch her suffer.

  She meant something to him.

  Dammit.

  So did his job.

  The paramedics were about to close the doors.

  “Wait!” He ran over and jumped inside and pressed a quick kiss to her brow. “As soon as I’m done here I’ll be there, okay?”

  Her eyes were clouded with pain as she smiled. “You better.”

  “Give me your car keys. I’ll drive the SUV back for you.”

  He patted her jeans pocket and found her keys.

  He jumped out of the rig and the ambulance sped away.

  He was reminded of Monday morning when a rig had taken Cindy Resnick’s body away from a lake not far from here. Had she been involved in this scheme? Or had the prof acted alone?

  He’d figure it out so Pip didn’t have to.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mandy Fuller got out of her silver sedan and approached the large detached house in the quiet, leafy Atlanta neighborhood. She swore when she checked her work cell, there was something wrong with the thing and it seemed to leech power. She needed to get a new one, but dammit, she didn’t have time. And she’d stupidly left her personal cell at home.

  She’d grabbed lunch on the way over, irritated that the team she’d had working with her yesterday had all been diverted onto this mysteri
ous BLACKCLOUD investigation. Will had promised to fill her in on what he could that night.

  Then she’d heard from a contact at the DMV that a truck matching the description of the one from the shooting yesterday had been found burned-out last night at an illegal dumping ground. It was registered to a soldier named Cory Slater who was currently deployed. The sister reported it stolen from her driveway when she’d gotten home from work last night.

  It may or may not be the one she was looking for but it was worth asking a few questions. She made a note to contact the soldier. See if this was an insurance job or a personal grudge.

  Mandy would be lying if she said she wasn’t pissed to be missing out on the excitement back at the office. The fact Hunt had been involved in tracking down a bioweapons terrorist and had still allowed himself to get distracted by the journalist pissed her off. You could bet your last cent she or the other female agents would have been kicked off the case if they’d gotten sidetracked by some good-looking dude.

  This week, Mandy had already helped take down a major corruption ring and was now leading an inquiry into the shooting attempt of a federal agent. And would anyone remember that work in the months to come? Hell, no. It would all be swamped by the news of a potential biological weapon.

  The wind rustled the leaves overhead and she blew out a matching sigh.

  Women had to work twice as hard and fight three-times as dirty to achieve anything, and that went extra for law enforcement and military.

  She hadn’t wanted to date Will for that reason. She was ambitious. He was good at everything she was good at, and better at others. She didn’t want to end up in his shadow.

  She thought of his sexy grin. Damn if she wasn’t smitten anyway. And the idea he thought she didn’t know about his impending application to HRT?

  She snorted out loud.

  She could admit to herself she liked keeping him on his toes, but she wasn’t sure how they’d handle a long distance relationship. They were about to find out.

  She loved him.

  Mandy checked out the property as she strode up the driveway. It was a really nice house. Sienna brown brickwork and red, painted shutters. Mandy would have to marry up or win the lottery to afford a place like this.

  No one worked for the federal government for the big bucks.

  There was a nice Merc pulled up next to the attached garage at the back of the house.

  Mandy was convinced that yesterday’s shooter had been targeting Pip West. She’d reviewed the woman’s background and there were a few potential red flags. Pip came from a broken, abusive home and had grown up in foster care. Discounting her recent inheritance, she wasn’t wealthy, but she didn’t carry any significant debt either. And she did have an iron-clad alibi for her friend’s death.

  The journalist had a reputation for doing investigative work that had pissed off some very important people in Florida. Mandy had called Ms. West’s editor but the guy had played hardball with information.

  Maybe Hunt could get more out of her.

  Her lip curled. Kincaid was a good agent, a hard worker, but in her experience, men were easy to manipulate. And if someone was involved with something dicey why wouldn’t they cozy on up to the nearest handsome federal agent?

  So what if she was cynical? Naivety got you killed.

  She knocked on the front door and stood back, to the side, hands in front of her and close to her service weapon.

  A woman with long, red hair, loose around her shoulders answered. She had a slight frame and was in workout gear, sweating slightly, as if she’d been running.

  “Can I help you?” she asked politely, her eyes shooting to the creds Mandy held up in front of her.

  “Beatrice Grantham?”

  Two small lines marked the skin between her elegantly plucked brows. “That’s me.”

  “You reported your brother’s truck stolen yesterday.”

  “Wow.” The woman’s eyes went wide. “They sent the FBI?”

  Mandy huffed out a quiet laugh. “I have a few questions and was wondering if I could come in for a moment?”

  The woman wiped her brow on the sleeve of her gray tee. “It’s not really a good time—”

  “This will only take a minute.”

  The woman’s shoulders bobbed as she sighed. “Fine. But I was in the middle of a workout. Come on in.”

  Mandy followed her inside, eyes huge as she took in the beautiful home. A TV blared in the background.

  “Would you mind coming through to my home gym? I left the TV on back there.”

  “Your brother is in the Army.”

  Pursed lips showed her worry and disapproval. “Iraq. I was hoping to get his truck back quickly so he never has to know about this.”

  “Fond of it?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “You’d think they were dating.”

  They walked through an airy hallway and a white kitchen with wooden countertops. Mandy was having a major case of house envy.

  Through the back of the house until they came to a gym area complete with weight machines, treadmill and workout mats. The TV was so loud Mandy had to resist the urge to protect her ears. She took a step farther into the room as Beatrice Grantham headed for the TV.

  A fiery pain burst through her and she looked down to see blood blooming on the front of her shirt. Oh, God. She’d been shot! She tried to take a breath but the pain was crippling. She dropped to her knees and before her numb fingers could grapple with the snap, someone stepped up behind her and grabbed her Glock out of its holster.

  “Watch out!” Mandy cried out in warning to the other woman.

  Beatrice Grantham reduced the volume on the TV, turned and said calmly, “That’s better.”

  She looked to whoever stood behind Mandy and nodded. Mandy closed her eyes. She’d made the classic mistake in underestimating a female based on her looks. She wished she’d told Will how much she loved him today. She wasn’t going to get another chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Pip lay in the hospital bed and stared at the white tiles on the ceiling. She’d had an MRI and eight stitches. Apparently, she was very lucky. They’d given her something for the pain and now there was a dull thudding at the back of her skull.

  Heaven help her when her luck ran out.

  The electronic beep of machines and murmur of voices in the corridor formed a white noise that threatened to lull her to sleep. She frowned, desperately trying to remember what had happened. She’d been at Blake and spoken to Adrian Lightfoot and then she’d been driving, but after that she… Heck, she didn’t remember much except waking up on the ground and Hunt holding his weapon like he expected to use it.

  Her door opened and her heart leapt in stupid anticipation. It wasn’t Hunt. One of his friends, the FBI agent she’d met yesterday at the shooting, came into the room. She couldn’t remember his name. He had dark skin, a handsome face, intelligent eyes.

  “Ms. West? Remember me? Will Griffin with the FBI. I’m a friend of Agent Kincaid’s.”

  It felt weird hearing Hunt called by his official title again after spending last night naked in his bed. It was a good reminder of who and what he was.

  “I was hoping this was a good time to ask you a few questions about what happened earlier today? We need to get a statement.”

  She tried to sit up but broke out in a cold sweat as a rush of vertigo swept over her. A wave of nausea followed but she managed not to throw up.

  Yup, she was lucky all right.

  “Steady.” Will Griffin stepped forward and raised her bed a few inches. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Where’s Agent Kincaid?” Her voice came out crackly.

  Will Griffin handed her a water glass. She drank greedily through a straw, the moisture relieving her parched mouth and throat.

  “Agent Kincaid has been reassigned from your case.”

  “My case? What case?”

  “Figuring out who hit you over the head.” He smiled, dark eyes cr
inkling at the corners. “It’s complicated.”

  She frowned and the action pulled the skin of her scalp. Ouch. “Does this have anything to do with my friend Cindy’s death?”

  He pulled up a chair and leaned toward her. “What do you remember from this morning?”

  Was Hunt in trouble for sleeping with her? Why would he be? Was she on some sort of FBI persona non grata blacklist? She hated the idea of hurting his career. He’d told her how much his job meant to him.

  “I went to the university first thing.” Her thoughts cleared a little, though the fog didn’t lift. “I was looking for Cindy’s advisor and the head of department told me he was at his cabin.” Her eyes went to Will Griffin’s. “I didn’t mention it, but I knew where that was because I’d driven there with Cindy over Christmas to drop something off.”

  “Why did you want to talk to the professor?”

  Will Griffin had a lovely voice. Deep and soothing but she wished it was another agent asking her questions. She wanted to know what was going on.

  “Cindy’s funeral is this coming Sunday and I wanted to ask the professor to be a pallbearer.” She touched her forehead and took another sip of water. “I have a vague recollection of driving to his cabin but then it just goes blank.” The doctor had told her it was traumatic amnesia and said the memory may or may not return.

  “Do you remember collecting the mail out of his mailbox?”

  “No.” Pip shook her head. “I just remember waking up when Hunt found me.” Tears filled her eyes. Where was he? He’d told her not to run away from what was going on between them so why wasn’t he here? She forced back the tears. He’d said he’d be here when they’d both been interviewed.

  “You’re lucky we turned up when we did.”

  “Why was the FBI there?” she asked. “Why did they want to talk to the professor?”

  “I can’t say.”

  Pip rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh. “You realize how irritating that is, right?”

  He laughed. “Sometimes I have to be irritating to do my job properly.”