by Julie Kenner
“You know.” Heavy breaths. “And you’d better start planning for your funeral.” Click. Then silence.
Replacing the receiver, Amanda doodled on the notepad in front of her. Another prank call. Third one this month, too. And for the life of her she couldn’t figure out which bust had pissed the guy off.
“Hey, Riley, got a minute?”
Amanda sighed. The question was rhetorical. The man asking, Lieutenant Gordon, or Gordy, was her boss. And, since they were both members of the brand-new task force investigating their very own Fort Worth serial killer, of course she had a minute. She had all day, if he wanted it.
“Sure.” She blinked, tearing her gaze away from the incredibly detailed coroner’s report on the victims. It took two seconds before she noticed Gordy had someone with him. A tall man, not in uniform.
Hastily, she pushed her chair back, scraping the floor with a loud, nails-on-chalkboard sound, making her wince. “Here or in the conference room?”
Gordy flashed a smile, which scared her. It was his shark smile. He never used that smile on her, only on the rookies or the perps. A shiver ran up her back. Who the hell was the guy with him? She stood on the tips of her toes and tried to see around Gordy’s bulk.
“Nah, here will be fine.” He pushed his way into her tiny cubicle. Since making detective, she’d been granted this one small slice of privacy. It might not seem like much, but compared to the crowded squad room it was nirvana.
The other man followed him. Amanda stared. Normally, she wasn’t much for being overwhelmed by a guy’s looks, but this guy was something else. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t begin to describe him. Though he looked positively dangerous in his black leather jacket and faded jeans, everything else about him screamed “law enforcement.”
“Detective Amanda Riley, this is Agent Nick Templeton. FBI Agent Nick Templeton.”
The name struck her like a ball-peen hammer between the eyes. “Templeton,” she breathed. Templeton had been her former boyfriend Jason’s last name. His obituary had just run in the paper yesterday. FBI?
Not caring that staring might be rude, Amanda stuck her hand out. She braced herself when his larger one gripped hers. But he played nice, unlike most other large men she’d met, his handshake firm but not painful. As he slid his hand free, she noticed he had long, elegant fingers. Her mouth went dry. She’d always been a sucker for a man with sensual hands. Like Jason.
They’d tried to kick her off the task force when her former boyfriend had become one of the serial killer victims.
“Jason’s last name was Templeton.” Amanda heard her voice, noted the harsh tone, all without being conscious of even speaking. “You must be related. I’m very sorry.”
His cool gaze gave nothing away. “We were cousins.”
Gordy touched her shoulder. “You okay?”
From habit she nodded. All Gordy needed was one tiny excuse and she would be put on R&R. Though Jason and she had broken up a month earlier, his murder had hit Amanda hard. She’d even had to wonder if it had been directed at her for some reason, like the serial killer was now taunting the task force.
Amanda straightened her back. This was her job. Her grief was private. Even if this guy was Jason’s cousin. And a federal agent.
“Agent Templeton is here about the murders.” Gordy spoke without inflection. His best political, talking-to-the-chief voice. “I’ve assigned him to you. Fill him in, show him around. He’s here for the duration.”
Amanda couldn’t help it; she let her mouth fall open. “Say that again?”
The look Gordy shot her told her he didn’t like it any better than she did. No one liked the feds messing with their investigations. “He’s now part of the task force.”
“One agent? That’s all they sent?”
Gordy shook his head in warning. “Yeah.”
Closing her mouth, Amanda forced a smile. She knew that tone. It would be pointless to argue, so she didn’t. “Great,” she said, not bothering with false enthusiasm. The guy would have to be stupid not to figure out he wasn’t wanted. Wait till the other guys on the task force got wind of this. This Nick Templeton was dead meat.
The fed looked at her and Amanda saw two things. One, he realized this and two, he didn’t care.
“I’d like to talk to you about Jason.” Though the accent was similar, his voice was deeper than Jason’s, more raspy. “And I wasn’t sent by anyone. We’re working too hard on terrorism to spare anyone for a couple of murders in cowtown. I asked to come.”
Amanda sat back down and steepled her hands in front of her. From deep inside she pulled out a composure she didn’t yet feel. The wound still cut too deep.
“Jason wasn’t the first victim.” Again, she swallowed. “But I expect you know that.”
He indicated the manila file, still open in front of her. “Case file?”
“One of them.”
“Mind if I see it?”
One glance at Gordy told her what she needed to know. Share the file. In case she didn’t understand, Gordy put it in words. “He’s to have full access to all resources.”
Fine. Without another word, Amanda slid the file across the desk. He stopped it with one finger, his intent gaze never wavering from her face.
Gordy cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two to it then.” Lifting his hand in a wave, he took off. Coward. Not that Amanda blamed him. Most everyone on the task force would avoid Agent Nick Templeton like the plague. And now her, too. Since he was her new partner, she’d be tainted by association.
“So you and my cousin were engaged?”
For the second time in ten minutes, her mouth fell open. “That’s news to me,” she managed. “Jason and I never talked about marriage.” Her heart thudded in her chest, like every beat was a major effort. Suddenly, inexplicably, she wanted to lay her head down on the desk and cry.
Instead, she set her jaw and told herself she would not. She’d fought hard to stay on the task force. She wanted to bring Jason’s killer to justice.
His hard expression softened. “You cared about him.” He made his question a statement.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Yet you personally covered his crime scene.”
“I’m still on the task force.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “They didn’t know who he was. I cover all these particular crime scenes.” By particular, she meant victims, potential or otherwise, of this serial killer. Jason had been number four. And they still had no idea who was responsible, or why.
Without another word, he opened the folder and began to read.
Ten minutes later, after Nick confirmed what he already knew—they had a potential serial killer on the loose—Amanda shook her head. “My turn. Why are you here? I mean, I know the feds want a piece of the pie, but Jason was your cousin. Why you?”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “It’s personal. Jason was family.”
He said family like he meant mob. Nah. It just sounded that way because of his accent.
Looking at him across the scarred surface of her desk, she tried not to notice how muscular his arms were. “We all care, Agent. We all care.”
Unsmiling, he dipped his chin. “Call me Nick.”
Now was the part where she was supposed to tell him to call her Amanda. But she didn’t. Something about this guy set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was the dark sexuality that oozed from every pore. A guy who looked this good shouldn’t be a cop. She narrowed her eyes. Or maybe it was just the resemblance to Jason. Damn. The air went out of her in a rush.
“I understand your grief.” The moment she spoke, Amanda knew she’d made a mistake.
Nick’s expression hardened. “Do you, Detective Riley?” He rose to his feet, the movement oddly graceful for such a large man. “I plan to look around town tonight, on my own time. You never know where a clue might turn up. Since I’m not familiar with the area, maybe you’d like to be my guide.”
As invitations
went, this one stopped just short of surly. But then he was horning in on an investigation already in progress.
“Sure.” Amanda leaned back in her chair. She was amazed she’d just agreed to be his guide. “I’ve been working this case after hours for weeks.”
Since he was staying at the Marriott hotel, she agreed to pick him up at nine o’clock. Time enough for both of them to change clothes and grab a bite to eat. Some guys, especially cops, had a problem with a woman driving them around, but he didn’t seem to mind. Which was good, since Amanda wouldn’t let anyone else drive her new car and she didn’t feel like worrying about some damn rental.
Amanda wrote down his room number and pocketed the slip of paper. “Try not to look so much like a cop.”
His mouth—well shaped, she thought—tightened. But to his credit, he didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. No one who might have information about Jason’s death would talk to them if they even caught a whiff of law enforcement.
The clock showed a quarter till six. Detectives didn’t get paid overtime.
Amanda followed Nick from the police station, watching as he got into his rental car. Even that looked like a cop car. Nondescript, blue Ford Taurus. She couldn’t wait to see how he adapted to her new silver Volvo SUV. Men tended to feel uncomfortable in such a family-type vehicle. Except for Jason. He’d called it the thrill-mobile. Well, maybe for other reasons beside speed.
Once home, she fed Clause, her inside cat, then fed the outside strays that gathered on her back patio. For some reason her apartment’s parking lot was a dumping ground for unwanted cats.
A microwaved T.V. dinner, with salad from a bag as her nod to healthy eating, served as her dinner. She read as she ate and checked her watch three times. They’d agreed she’d pick Nick up at nine, though from experience she knew the Fort Worth night scene didn’t get started until after ten o’clock.
Outside, the darkness gathered quickly. Something—a set of glowing eyes—made her spin, heart pounding. It was just one of the outside cats, she realized. With a curse, she yanked the curtains closed.
Sighing, she began rummaging through her closet. Years of undercover work had given her what she called a diverse wardrobe. She could wear anything from early matronly to frankly slutty, depending on the need.
Tonight she wanted to look good. In a knock-his-socks off way. She made a rude sound low in her throat, angry at the truth. Being escorted around by someone as handsome as Nick Templeton demanded she try to look as good as possible, nothing more.
It took her nearly an hour to settle on an outfit. The denim miniskirt was flattering, showing off her long legs. She chose her sexiest heels and a black silk halter top. Yanking her hair from her work ponytail, she combed her fingers through and let it fall where it may. She grabbed a silver choker and dangling earrings and spritzed herself lightly with perfume.
She was dying to see what Agent Templeton would do to make himself look less like a cop. Assuming he could. As she passed the hall closet, she remembered Jason had kept some things in there, something that had happened gradually over the nine months they’d been together. Just in case he’d had to go from her place to work in the morning without a change of clothing.
For a moment her chest felt tight and she couldn’t breathe. Sometimes she thought she could still pick up the phone and call him, tell him she was sorry for freaking out and give him a chance to explain. Hell, what had he expected when he’d changed into a wolf in front of her? She still wasn’t sure she believed it, but one thing about Jason’s death—and all the others—fit right in.
Amanda was the only one on the task force who’d made the connection. Hell, she was the only one who would even consider a paranormal possibility. All of the victims had been killed with a custom-made, silver bullet. According to the Internet, silver bullets were one of the only ways to kill a werewolf. The other way was by fire.
Though she didn’t know for certain about any of the victims, she was working on finding out if they could have been like Jason. If someone was killing these people with unique abilities, she had to stop it. After all, they were people first, people who didn’t deserve to die in such a horrible manner.
Jason had been a werewolf. She’d bet her last dime the other victims had been werewolves, too.
CHAPTER TWO
NICK FULLY expected Amanda Riley to be late. In his experience, women who looked like her spent hours planted in front of a mirror. She’d surprised the hell out of him. He’d known Jason liked his girlfriends tall, blond and sexy, so he’d been prepared to find a hooker. But when he’d learned she was a police officer, the news had given him pause. Attractive women had things even tougher in law enforcement. They had to work twice as hard to get men to take them seriously.
Though she tried to downscale her stunning looks, Amanda exuded sex appeal. Nick didn’t understand how her colleagues kept from swarming all over her. For all he knew, maybe they did. But she’d made detective, so she had more going on than attractiveness. She was smart and ballsy, too. He liked that in a woman. While he hadn’t expected his instant rush of physical attraction, after the few hours he’d spent working with her, he actually liked Amanda Riley.
Now he had to find out what she knew about Jason’s death.
For the fifth time in an hour he checked his watch. She’d said she’d pick him up at nine o’clock. He thought about waiting in his room and making her come to him. But Nick wasn’t a patient man, so he paced the hotel lobby instead. Idly, he wondered what kind of car she drove. He’d learned a lot about people by their choice of vehicle. He was betting Amanda owned something sleek, fast and expensive.
She pulled up in a Volvo SUV instead. Safe and practical? Pushing through the lobby doors, Nick shook his head. That’s what he got for thinking with his hormones instead of using his brain.
Reaching for the handle, he heard a click as she disengaged the locks. He climbed inside, trying like hell not to stare at her legs. Lightly tanned and smooth, they seemed to go on forever. The kind of legs that wrapped around a man’s waist when he—whoa. Nick took a deep breath and immediately wished he hadn’t. Even her scent was pleasing—lightly musky and ultrafeminine.
Damn. “Nice car.”
She raised a brow. “Thanks. I bought it as a present to myself when I made detective.”
He felt her gaze like heat as she inspected him. Once or twice, early in his career he’d done some undercover work for the Bureau. He could pull off the look if he had to. Still, he relished her surprise.
“I like the jeans. They’re torn in all the right places.” A trace of humor colored her voice. He decided to ignore it.
“Yeah.” He plucked at the denim. “I don’t like them, but they’ll work. Good thing I’m not from around here, so I don’t have to worry about running into someone I know.”
Her laugh took him by surprise. A husky contralto, the sound of it rolled over him, raising the hair on his arms. His wolf-self, never far away, became alert.
It took a moment to realize she’d asked him a question. “What?”
“Are you like Jason?”
He froze. Raising his gaze to hers, he saw all traces of humor had vanished from her face. Deliberately he made his voice neutral. “Like him how?”
“With what he could do. Jason told me. Hell, Jason showed me.”
Careful. “Could do? What do you mean?”
She looked away.
He said nothing, continuing simply watching her. Twin spots of color bloomed high upon her cheekbones. Her pulse beat an agitated rhythm at the hollow of her neck.
At his lack of response, her stern face came back. Cop face. But the cascading waves of golden hair ruined the effect. He felt the urge to change—his wolf-self knew what she was asking and stirred restlessly inside him.
Finally, she waved her hand. “Come on, Nick. I really need to know. It’s important.”
Important. She had that one right. He made his own features hard. He was a cop, too. H
e could play the same game. “Like Jason. Hmmm. Well, I’m older than Jason is—was.” Deliberately misunderstanding, he also wanted to remind her of their loss. “We weren’t close, though we got together at the usual family gatherings. While I’ve heard we look similar, I don’t know about personality-wise.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Her voice sounded flat.
He cocked his head. Spell it out. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I’ll let it go for now,” she snapped. “Only because I’ve just met you and you’re FBI.”
Good. Great. Though he’d been granted a reprieve of sorts, he had a feeling next time the subject came up, she wouldn’t let him go so easily. She was too good of a cop for that.
“Have you eaten?”
Because the curve of her sensual mouth distracted him, he cleared his throat. “I grabbed a sandwich at the hotel bar.” And a couple of beers, too, hoping to dull the edge. But judging from his body’s reaction to Amanda, that had been a mistake. He’d need all his mental sharpness to make sure he didn’t let down his guard with her.
Though she was a cop—detective—and on the newly assembled team investigating the recently named Fort Worth serial killer, Nick had a hunch Amanda might knew more about what had happened to Jason than she let on.
They pulled into a well-lit, crowded parking lot. Small groups of eclectically dressed people milled around.
“Sundance Square,” she said, then laughed at his uncomprehending look. “One of Jason’s favorite hangouts. We’ll start here.”
He made sure to get out of the car at the same time she did. Manners be damned, no way in hell could he keep from checking out those endless legs of hers if he were to open her door.
Her heels clicked on the pavement as she moved to stand next to him. In her shoes she was as tall as Nick, which made her nearly six feet tall, flat-footed. He noticed a suspicious lump in the side of her short black jacket.
“You carrying?”
Her eyes went cool. “Of course. This is still police work, after all.”