She raised her bed with the automatic controls. She still had a headache but at least the fierce pain had dulled to a throb.
The slight buzz of the bed mechanism had Hunt slowly opening his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
He stretched out that magnificent body and her heart started beating harder and faster, which would have been fine if she was the only one who noticed.
Hunt glanced at the monitor and then at her heated cheeks and grinned. “I’m hoping that means you’re a little better.” His brows slid together in concern. “And not that you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath until she felt it all the way down in her solar plexus trying to center herself and her whirling emotions. She shouldn’t be this happy to see him. “I didn’t think you’d be allowed to visit.”
“Allowed?” He scooted toward her and picked up her hand in both of his. “I told you I’d come as soon as I was able.”
“Yeah, but I spoke to your buddy Will earlier and he said—”
“Will can be a dick.”
She let out a huff. “I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t Agent Fuller.”
He leaned over her, still cradling her hand like he was scared he was gonna hurt her if he touched her anywhere else. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question about how you’re feeling. Trained federal agent, remember?”
She laughed properly this time and then winced. “I’m fine. I wanna go home.”
Except she didn’t have a home and that realization hit her hard. She was sick of staying in the hotel but didn’t want to stay at Cindy’s. The reminders of all she’d lost were too huge, too tangible.
“Let me talk to the nurse. If she approves we’ll go back to mine and you can sleep.”
She arched a brow although inside her heart melted just a little. “I don’t remember much sleeping last time I was in your bed.”
“Which is why I’m so goddamn tired today.” He stroked her hand to the tips of her fingers. “But today you have a slight concussion so it’ll be sleep and nothing else, young lady.” He went to stand up but she gripped his forearm.
“Thank you. For rescuing me.”
His eyes crinkled and she held on tight to her galloping pulse. “I’m grateful you were okay. When I saw you lying there…” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his throat as he swallowed. “Fuck, Pip. At first I thought you were dead.” He held her gaze, his pupils wide. “That sucked. So no need to thank me, just no more trying to give me a heart attack, okay? I get enough excitement in my job.”
Something changed in his eyes then, but she couldn’t read it.
She nodded, afraid that if she opened her mouth she’d spew tears and heartfelt pledges of love.
No one fell in love after a few days. It was crazy. Except, there was that whole love at first sight cliché. And clichés became clichés for a reason…
She shifted uncomfortably. There was too much going on in her life to even think about anything as dumb as falling in love with a guy she’d just met. A federal agent. A man who was probably already regretting the trouble she was causing him.
He came back into the room. “Nurse said they’d planned to keep you in for observation but if I promised to watch over you tonight you could sign out. I’m game if you are.”
His grin was sinful and Pip’s heart gave another little tumble. She could easily fall in love with him but the chances of him loving her back? Right up there with the Bucs winning the Super Bowl.
She knew these thoughts were crazy. She was twenty-eight years old, not eighteen. Eventually this would end the way every other relationship she’d ever had did. In heartbreak.
At least I’m not too terrified to date.
Cindy’s voice reverberated in her mind. Pip was terrified. She didn’t know how to handle letting anyone get close. But right now, she wanted to be with him and he seemed to want to be with her so she wasn’t going to over think it or fight it. She was just going to try and be less terrified of life.
“Get me out of here. Please.”
* * *
Hunt carried Pip through his front door even though she insisted she could walk.
“This is my one chance to be chivalrous. Don’t ruin it,” he told her.
She was wearing cotton scrubs, her clothes having been taken into evidence. After Will had left she’d realized they’d be looking for blood splatter from Professor Everson, which they wouldn’t find. She’d insisted someone come and test her hands for gunshot residue, too. She had nothing to hide.
She grabbed onto Hunt’s leather jacket, enjoying the feel of those hard muscles and strong arms that lifted her with ease. Maybe there were some advantages to being petite. He shut the door with his foot and carried her straight through to the bed that was still unmade from last night.
It was weird to be back here, in his space.
He eased her down, propped pillows behind her and stood, looking uncertain and rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you hungry?”
She grimaced and shook her head. Her stomach was growling but her spinning head was telling her not to risk eating yet. The idea of throwing up in front of anyone was embarrassing. She wasn’t used to being taken care of when she got sick. She usually just curled up under a duvet for a few days and wallowed in self-pity.
“I’ll get you some water and let you sleep.” He went to back away and she almost let him.
“Wait.” She swallowed nervously before asking, “Would you mind holding me?”
He stopped moving and nodded a little awkwardly, slipping off his jacket and his weapon holster, kicking off his boots before climbing in beside her and pulling her against him.
Her cheek settled against his chest and it felt like coming home—which made no sense because home for her had always been a solitary place that didn’t involve listening to someone else’s heartbeat. She put her hand on his chest. He stroked his carefully over her hair.
She could get used to this. A scary thought.
“What did you want to show me, yesterday?” she asked.
She expected a joke about sex, but he slipped out of bed and came back with a framed photograph before returning to his position as her favorite pillow. She touched the cool surface of the glass. A formal image of a man in a suit. Handsome. With the same distinctive blue eyes as Hunt. “Your father?”
She felt him nod.
“I was seven when he died. You said I wanted to save the world, but you were wrong. I just wanted to save him.”
“Did you want to avenge him, too?” She wasn’t judging him.
“Maybe,” his voice was soft in the darkness. “But, like I told you, the FBI caught and killed his murderer years ago, during another bank robbery. Once I put on a badge I realized I didn’t need to avenge him, but I could help make sure other kids didn’t go through what I went through.”
She gently stroked his hand. “Except there’s always someone somewhere, willing to hurt others.”
He nodded and was silent. He put the photograph on the bedside table behind the lamp.
“I’m sorry about your father. If it helps I expect he’d be very proud of what you’ve become.”
He grunted and she let it drop. “I think I need to rearrange Cindy’s funeral. Postpone it.”
His breath brushed the top of her head. “How much do you have left to do?”
“I’d hoped to ask the professor to do a reading and be a pallbearer. That’s why I was at his cabin.”
His arms tightened around her.
“Did you find who killed him? Your friend Will said the FBI were going to look deeper into Cindy’s death. Do they think I was right?”
He groaned. “I’m not supposed to talk about this.”
She tensed. She understood. She really did. But this was Cindy’s life. Cindy’s death. She needed to know.
“I can tell you some of it though.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
�
��The lab found some inconsistencies with Cindy’s scene.”
“What kind of inconsistencies?”
“Minute traces of Rohypnol in her water bottle.”
Pip’s mind raced so fast it started to throb again with pain. The last time she’d heard from Cindy her friend had been on her run and said she wasn’t feeling well. Pip’s mouth went dry at the implications. “Anyone who knew Cindy knew she ran every day and always took her water bottle.”
“It’s worse than that.” Hunt’s voice was low and deep. “Traces of coke were also found in the champagne.”
Pip felt her heart beat harder. “Someone forced the drugs into her system.” She’d been right. “Someone killed her.”
“Probably dosed her up with drugs and took her down to the lake for a swim, hoping she’d drown.”
Horror for her friend swept over her in a fresh wave of anguish. “Was she raped?”
“We don’t know. We’ll test DNA, but we might never know.”
“Was it the same person who killed the professor? What about Sally-Anne? Was her death a coincidence?” Did they know who it was? Was it the same person who’d shot at her and Hunt yesterday? Was she in danger?
She felt Hunt swallow.
“Right now, it looks like Professor Everson killed himself. Most of us think, but don’t know for sure, that he’s the one who hit you on the head.”
“What?” Pip struggled to sit up, but Hunt held tight.
“Evidence points to the professor being involved in Cindy’s death.”
“What? How? Why?” Pip gave up resisting and collapsed to his chest.
He stroked her arm. “I can’t tell you.”
God, Pip hated this. Her brain tried to catch up but it was all so awful. Cindy had a good relationship with the man. Not buddies, but a mutual respect. The idea he’d possibly murdered her friend, his student, and others, and had attacked her… Why?
“Is he the one who shot at us?” she asked.
“Pip,” Hunt’s voice was strained. “I really can’t discuss this.”
Frustration rushed through her, but he’d already told her more than she’d expected. She didn’t want to get him into trouble, but even so… “I promise I won’t say anything. I know everyone thinks I’m going to write some exposé but I don’t even have a job. I don’t even know if I want to be a journalist—”
“It’s a criminal investigation.” There was an edge to his tone now. “We have reasons for not putting it all out there in the public realm. Moral reasons. Legal reasons. Procedural reasons.”
She tried to pull away but he kept his arms firmly around her. “Are you suggesting I’d do something immoral or illegal just to get a story?”
“No.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Shit. I don’t know what I mean right now. I need sleep. You need sleep.” He sounded exhausted and she felt bad for badgering him when he’d obviously had a rough day. They both had.
She tried to fight her fatigue for a few minutes but she was so tired and the drugs she’d been given in the hospital were still dragging through her system and making her drowsy.
“Hunt,” she said, drowsily.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Chapter Thirty
Hunt woke with Pip sleeping on his chest. He’d been hit by a lot of things over the last twenty-four hours, the most striking this new relationship with Pip West that was both exciting and scary as fuck. He tried not to think about being taken off the BLACKCLOUD inquiry or his boss reporting him to OPR. He checked the clock. He’d been asleep for three hours which was pretty much the norm this week.
Pip frowned in her sleep and he wondered if she was in pain. He needed to wake her soon. The doctor said the chances were slim she’d slip into a coma, but it was possible. Remembering how it had felt for those few brief moments when he’d thought she might be dead…
This was why he didn’t get close, dammit.
He wasn’t impetuous or stupid. He always looked before he leaped, but God help him, this woman brought out every protective instinct he possessed and that scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t protect her any more than he’d protected his dad or his stepsister. Or Cindy Resnick for that matter.
Pip’s sharp brain and constant drive for answers didn’t bode well for his career, and he’d already told her more than he should because he wanted her to have some closure about her friend.
Mistake.
He didn’t want his relationship with her to cost him the FBI career he’d worked so hard for, but he did want to see where this thing with Pip led. And he did want to make sure she was okay after today’s attack. She didn’t have anyone else.
He shook his head at his own bullshit. Even if there had been someone else to take care of her, he wanted to be the one doing it. He wanted her in his bed, in his home. Things were moving too fast to get an emotional handle on how he was feeling. It was all new territory for him.
Removing himself from the BLACKCLOUD investigation sucked but had been necessary. Hunt had done everything by the book and had not jeopardized the search for the bioweapons dealer, but SAC Bourne had still looked like he’d wanted to wrap his hands around Hunt’s throat. Pip being involved in the bioweapon production made little sense, but could she have given the newspaper that story?
No. No way.
But if he thought it, even for an instant, then everyone else at the Bureau would, too. If he stayed with the FBI, and with Pip, he’d spend his entire career defending her.
Professor Everson’s cabin was still being processed but it seemed like a slam-dunk that the professor had hit Pip and then killed himself. His suicide note suggested the trail of bodies had become too great so perhaps he hadn’t had the heart to finish Pip off, or he’d assumed she was already dead.
Hunt couldn’t shake the sense of uneasiness.
They’d been fed too many clues in this enquiry, every one of which had subsequently proved to be false.
Pip’s hair tickled his nose but he ignored it. He liked holding her in his arms.
It was after midnight. He should sleep some more. Just as he was dropping off he heard his work cell vibrating. Gently he disengaged from Pip and slid out from the warmth of her embrace.
He waited until he was in the kitchen before he answered the call. It was Hernandez. She obviously hadn’t heard that he was officially off the case.
* * *
Her cell phone was ringing. Pip reached out and groped around on the bedside table until she found it, bringing it to her ear, groggy and confused.
“Hello,” she said.
There was silence on the other end and it took a moment to remember she was in Hunt’s house. In his bed. And this was his phone.
Crap. She thrust the covers off of her and slowly sat up. Her head was sore, but not blindingly painful.
“Why are you answering Hunt’s phone?” It was Hunt’s friend Will and he sounded pissed. “Don’t bother saying anything. I mean it’s obvious, isn’t it? Despite everything I said earlier. Haven’t you caused him enough trouble? He’s just lost his place on the case and lost yet another collar. And now he’s facing an internal investigation thanks to the story you leaked to the newspaper.”
Pip sat stunned. “What do you mean?”
“Forget it. Where is he? I need to talk to him.”
She looked up and there was Hunt standing in the doorway holding a different cell to his ear.
“I’ll call you back,” he said to whoever he was talking to. He held out his hand and she passed the cell over to him.
What had Will meant?
“What’s up, asshole?”
Pip watched the expression on Hunt’s face turn from annoyance to concern.
“No. Why?”
All she could hear was Hunt’s half of the conversation.
“You guys have a fight?” There was a pause while Will presumably answered. “What was the last thing she was doing?”
The lines in
Hunt’s forehead creased deeper into worry. Something was wrong, but Pip was trapped in the thoughts that circled her brain like vultures waiting to pick apart a carcass. What had Will been referring to?
“You spoken to Bourne?” said Hunt.
“You call all her girlfriends?”
“Call Bourne. Tell him what you told me. I’ll be in the office in twenty minutes.” Hunt hung up.
She spoke first. “I didn’t mean to answer your phone. Sorry.” For a woman who never used to apologize she was getting better at it.
There was a flicker in his eyes she couldn’t interpret. Did he not believe her?
“I was asleep.” She looked down at her toes. “I wasn’t sure where I was when it rang.”
“It’s okay,” he said tersely. “Sorry about Will. He’s worried.”
“He said you were off the case?” Quietness settled around them, full of unanswered questions. Then Hunt moved, changing into a fresh t-shirt so fast she didn’t have time to appreciate those sexy muscles.
“I removed myself from the case,” he said, not looking at her. “After we found you unconscious at Professor Everson’s house it immediately became a conflict of interest.”
Guilt churned inside her. “I never meant to cause trouble for you.”
Something flickered in his eyes again, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t he trust her? She gritted her teeth and then forced herself to speak. “Will said you faced an internal investigation because of a story I leaked?” She said it lightly as if someone wasn’t making her bleed.
Hunt shook his head as he pulled his weapon’s harness over the maroon tee. “I don’t believe you leaked the story.”
She formed her hands into fists and rested them together on her thighs. That was good. “What story?”
He pulled on a clean pair of socks, then a pair of heavy black boots.
“What story, Hunt?”
“Something about the FBI investigating the deaths of these scientists.”
“Why would I do that?” She frowned.
“To try and gain more interest in investigating Cindy’s death.” He dragged his hand through his hair and made it stand up. “I don’t think you leaked anything, but that’s the motive someone could assign.”
Cold Blooded Page 30