Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 5

by Heather Graham

  “The woman Adam mentioned is my oldest friend, and she’s still missing, Maddie,” Meg said. “She adored your husband. She’s an idealist and a wonderful person and…she may still be alive.”

  “I know we’re asking a lot,” Matt put in.

  “Garth is dead and gone,” Maddie said softly. “He wouldn’t care what was done with his body. It’s nothing but a shell now.” She paused. “I still wish I could understand.”

  “Can you tell me a little more about the day he died?” Matt asked.

  Maddie lifted her hands. “It was a busy day. He’d worked on Capitol Hill in the morning, and there was a special picnic with disabled children in the afternoon. He was tired when he came home—which added to the stress on his heart, or so we all assumed. We had dinner. We used no salt, and he ate only fish and chicken, no red meat. He was careful. Such a good, sweet man, the best husband and father and… Why? Why would someone have killed him?”

  “What if someone disagreed with him?” Adam asked.

  “Good Lord, Adam Harrison. We’re in politics. Everyone disagrees with everyone else!” Maddie said. “But he knew how to compromise. He also knew how to say, ‘This is what I believe. It’s up to the voters.’”

  Meg touched her hand again. “He’d been out all day, he came home and died. Did he take his pills?”

  “I believe he did, but it was too late. The bottle was in his hand, and the pills were strewn across the floor.”

  “Do you still have those pills?” Matt asked.

  “Oh, no, of course not,” Maddie said. “I’ve heard it stressed far too many times, the importance of getting rid of someone else’s pills. So many people reminded me of that. They went down the toilet immediately.”

  Meg and Adam both turned to Matt. “Who stressed this to you?” he asked carefully.

  “My daughter, for one. And a number of the congressional wives who were here after the funeral. Ada Cutler, Kendra Walker, Leona Thomas—many of the women.”

  “Any of the men?” Meg asked.

  “Men?” Maddie repeated, sitting back. “I suppose so, but… I don’t really remember. I was upset. We were talking in the living room. My daughter is a physician. She asked if I’d made sure to get rid of all her father’s pills.”

  Meg glanced at him and Matt knew they were thinking the same thing. They’d get nothing else along these lines, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. The pills were gone. They couldn’t be tested. The only truth regarding what might have been in his stomach or bloodstream lay in Congressman Hubbard being exhumed—and autopsied.

  “I just don’t see how my husband could have been murdered,” Maddie said, not for the first time. She was going to refuse them, Matt thought. Despite her earlier remark about his remains being “nothing but a shell.”

  But she didn’t.

  “Garth is dead. I truly believe that his soul is in heaven. If anyone deserved paradise, it’s my husband. If you think the removal of his corpse might help someone else, I’m happy to sign whatever papers you need,” she said with finality.

  She and Meg were looking at each other. They seemed to be sharing something.

  “Thank you,” Meg said simply.

  Adam rose. “Maddie, Garth loved you deeply. I believe he’d be very proud of you now.”

  “Won’t you stay for coffee, tea, a drink…a bite to eat?” Maddie asked.

  “You seem tired,” Adam said.

  “I am a bit weary. No matter how darling children are, I’m only good with them for so long, but still…”

  “Another time, Maddie, I shall be delighted to take you up on your offer,” Adam said.

  Matt rose and Meg did the same. Maddie Hubbard smiled at him and slipped an arm around Meg. “And you must bring your agents back when they’re not working on a case like this. I may no longer be a power on the Hill, but I still enjoy good company.”

  “I’d love to come back,” Meg said, and Matt quickly agreed.

  Maddie escorted them to the door. She and Adam embraced again and he stepped out. Matt paused to shake her hand; she stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. He smiled, liking her very much.

  As he and Adam started for the car, he noticed that Maddie had pulled Meg back. She whispered something to her. Meg nodded, and in the light from the old-fashioned porch lamp, he could see her blush. A moment later, she hurried after him.

  Maddie waved to them from the door, and they waved in return. They talked about the obvious on the way back—the fact that Hubbard’s pills might have been switched. They’d find out when the autopsy was done. Adam wanted to head straight to his office to get Jackson started on the paperwork. He told the two of them to go home and get some rest.

  “We have to pick up Killer,” Meg reminded him.

  “Just go home. I’ll enjoy a night with the pup, if you don’t mind,” Adam said.

  “I…” Meg wanted to protest. She was already attached to the dog. But there was no reason not to let Adam have him for the night. “Okay,” she said.

  As he pulled into traffic, Matt asked, “Do you have a bed at your place yet?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she told him.

  “And nothing in the kitchen yet, right?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted.

  “Let’s get some dinner, since we missed lunch.”

  “That sounds good,” she said.

  Matt took them to a place he knew along the way, a restaurant that had an excellent assortment of Mediterranean food, from lasagna to lamb kabobs. He waited until they were seated and had ordered their drinks and their food before he asked, “What did she say? When she called you back?”

  “You mean Mrs. Hubbard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. Um, well…it was personal.”

  “Personal? I didn’t think you knew her that well.”

  “Apparently, she knows us,” Meg said wryly.

  “Oh?”

  She shook her head, blushing again. Her eyes were a brilliant deep blue, sparkling with a rare beauty, when she replied. “She said you were as gorgeous as a TV gladiator. She has no idea if the real ones were gorgeous or not. And that I shouldn’t let you go.”

  Stunned, Matt stared at her, and then he began to laugh. He couldn’t help asking her, “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What did you say to her?”

  * * *

  Watching them sent his blood boiling. Slash was so agitated he could barely keep his position in the driver’s seat of his car.

  His car. He’d had to resort to the use of his own because of them. He’d rushed last night; he’d rushed by grabbing a prostitute. He should’ve taken someone he’d observed and studied. And he should’ve taken that woman, his chosen victim, when he knew she’d be alone on an empty street.

  But what he did last night—it had seemed so important at the time. He’d felt a desperate fever; he’d had to make a move. He blamed it on them, on those two agents; if it weren’t for that foolish woman, Meg Murray, the police would’ve dropped it. They’d have pursued a killer and nothing more. And now…

  Still, they knew nothing. They hadn’t charged anyone. They hadn’t even brought anyone in for questioning.

  They were like idiot dogs, dogs with bones…chewing, slavering, not about to let go. And now, while he sat in the car, they were in there, laughing, smiling, talking to each other as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  It made him angry. But he had to lie low. He needed to remember the timetable—what was important and what wasn’t.

  And yet…

  He watched the two of them. And all he wanted to do was…

  Kill.

  CHAPTER 11

  Meg was startled, not at all sure what to say.

&nbs
p; Should she tell him the truth? About what she’d said—or what she felt?

  “I said you were a good partner.”

  “Oh, now, that would be a lie,” he said, obviously amused. “You think I’m high-handed, chauvinistic and intolerable.”

  “That’s not true,” Meg protested. “Not the intolerable part. You’re bearable. Just bearable.”

  “Ah, thank you for that!” he said, lifting his coffee cup to her and smiling.

  “Well, let’s be frank. You feel I’m too young, too emotional and not nearly as capable as you are. You’d rather have an experienced man at your back.”

  His smile deepened. “You’re young, yes,” he said.

  “That means better reflexes,” she told him.

  “And you’re emotional, yes,” he went on as if she hadn’t responded.

  “Well, yes, I was emotional when we met.”

  He eased forward again, running his finger around the edge of his coffee cup. “I didn’t mind.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “I wasn’t rude, was I?”

  Meg waved a hand in the air, astonished by this whole conversation. They were almost flirting.

  And she liked it. Liked him. How many times in the past few hours had she thought she’d like to take a moment not to be an agent, and to turn back into his arms?

  “Am I more capable?” he asked. “I hope so. I’ve been out of the academy for years. A decade. So I hope I’ve gained something from my experience.”

  “That’s fair,” Meg said. “Or fair enough.”

  “Would I rather have a man at my back?” He shook his head. “No. I want someone I trust. I believe in you, kid.” He raised his cup to her again. He turned as their waitress arrived to deliver their meals.

  “I’m not a kid,” she informed him when their waitress had gone.

  “No, I guess you’re not,” he said. “Ketchup?”

  She burst into laughter.

  “Ketchup is funny?”

  “I can’t read you. I can’t read you at all. One minute, I feel as if you’re…well, as if we’re almost on the same wavelength—and the next, ketchup.”

  “It’s good on a burger.”

  She gazed down at her plate and wondered if she was a fool. She thought about her past, her previous relationships. Nothing recently. A great romance in high school that ended the minute she’d gone to college. There’d been lots of flirting with male cops at the police academy. Then she’d dated a lawyer until he’d begun to look at her too oddly, uncomfortable with her “hunches.” Then more flirting, this time with the male cadets at the academy. All kinds of innuendo—and yet nothing that she chose to pursue, not with the goal ahead of her. And now…

  She looked up. Matt was watching her, hazel eyes like broken shards of crystal, his expression as charming as she’d ever seen.

  “What is it, Agent Murray? There are things we can’t learn at the academy, aren’t there? So, you want the truth—without condiments? You’re a stunning woman, but surely you know that. I’d love to sweep you into my arms, and never let you go. Of course, basic decency, not to mention social rules, keep me from doing that, especially when we’re searching for someone near and dear to you. So…if I’m moving too far in what might not be an acceptable direction, I move on to ketchup. It does go well with burgers. Should I have suggested mayonnaise?”

  Meg stared at him blankly in bewilderment—and then she slowly smiled. “I do like ketchup,” she told him.

  “Good,” he said. “Perhaps I could pass the salt or pepper?”

  “Salt and pepper can certainly add flavor.”

  “Ask for anything you’d like.” He lowered his head as he turned his attention to the food in front of him. Meg felt frozen—and on fire. She knew she should focus on her burger—and the ketchup—as well.

  Or she could act. Act on her feelings. And she suddenly wanted to.

  She reached across the table and placed her fingers lightly on his hand. “Want to know what I saw when we first met?”

  “What?”

  “Arrogance—which I’ve discovered is another word for the confidence needed in this work. And let’s see… A man who looks like a television gladiator, just like Maddie said. And most important, I saw someone who had my back even when I felt I was being judged.”

  “Well, you were being judged.”

  “And?”

  “I’ve already laid it all out quite nicely,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

  “So have I.”

  He studied her a moment longer. Then he asked, “Did you want anything else?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Anything else to eat. More coffee, dessert?”

  “No, no, thank you. I’m done.”

  He caught the eye of their waitress and quickly paid the check. “Let’s go,” he said, once his card had been returned.

  He held her elbow lightly as he led her to the car. She slipped around to get into the passenger seat. When he began to drive, she asked him, “Where are we going?”

  He glanced at her, his smile endearingly crooked. “My place.”

  “Okay. There is mine.”

  “Ah, but I have furniture.”

  She eased back in the seat, realizing that they were headed to his house for the direct purpose of having sex.

  It seemed remarkable, but she was glad, and the anticipation was warm and exhilarating. She refused to even wonder if she was committing professional suicide. The days had been hard and frantic, and now…

  Evidently, foreplay had taken place at dinner. They’d barely stepped into his foyer before she was in his arms. His hold was more sensual than she’d ever imagined. They tore at each other’s jackets and shirt buttons, then paused.

  The guns were awkward.

  “Upstairs. Bedroom,” Matt said.

  “You’re good with words, Agent Bosworth!” She laughed, but she took his hand and raced up the stairs with him. Soft night-lights lit the way. Their Glocks went on the bedside tables.

  He paused again, looking at her in the shadowy light as he slipped her tailored shirt from her shoulders. She nodded in answer to his unspoken question as she returned the gesture. Moonlight played through a slit in the drapes, falling on the sleek, tightly muscled, bronzed expanse of his chest. She leaned against it as her bra fell away. She felt the electric delight of touching so gently, and as he tilted her head, he stared into her eyes one last time, and kissed her.

  He was everything she could have hoped for—a practiced lover with the ability to tease with his lips and tongue, to awaken hunger and longing with every brush of his fingers. His kiss was deep and compelling, his touch purely sensual and erotic.

  She wasn’t even sure exactly how and when they lost the rest of their clothing. She just knew that they were entwined on the bed. She felt the stroke of his fingers and the caress of his tongue and returned both.

  Only the foreplay with words had ended. The sweep of his touch continued; his kisses roamed the length of her, brought her near climax and then drew back, again and again. They were in a tangle of kisses and strokes and whispered utterances of pleasure and encouragement. He took the time to look after the necessary precautions, then he was on top of her and within her, and she felt she’d never had such an experience before. Maybe it was the longing, the loneliness she hadn’t known she felt, or maybe it was just the magic of this man.

  Climax was explosive and sweet, and it occurred again and again. Eventually she slept; it was sheer exhaustion that led her to it at last. At times, she woke, and felt the cool air in the room and saw the moonbeams filtering through, and she basked in the comfort.

  She knew that when daylight came, she’d worry again; she would doggedly follow any chance of finding Lara.

  A
nd she knew she’d be helped. By Matt.

  She closed her eyes and couldn’t believe what it felt like to sleep in his arms, surrounded by his warmth.

  * * *

  Slash had watched many people over the years; it was necessary in his business.

  He’d never felt like a voyeur before. He didn’t like the feeling. And yet…

  He couldn’t quite turn away. The drapes had been closed. There’d been just that narrow little window. And what he hadn’t seen, he’d envisioned in his mind’s eye.

  The two of them, beautiful people, naked in each other’s arms. Her long shapely legs, the curve of her back. And him…holding her, touching her, feeling her, breathing her in…

  Slash had felt the fury inside him become something terrible. He’d smashed his fists on the dashboard—almost broken it, but then remembered it was his own car. He’d stared at the slit in the drapes again. He’d been so upset he’d gotten out and walked the open pavement. It was late, so no one saw him.

  He realized they wouldn’t be leaving and he imagined them in bed. He imagined her hands on the other man, her long elegant fingers moving over his body…

  And finally he’d realized that he had to control himself.

  He also had to sleep. It was difficult being two people—one who appeared by day.

  And one who killed by night.

  He forced himself to drive away.

  He could not force himself to forget.

  * * *

  Matt woke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He saw that it was Jackson and answered immediately. They’d be at the cemetery, ready to exhume the body of Congressman Hubbard in an hour, Jackson said. He’d meet them at Arlington, along with Adam and Kat Sokolov.

  Matt glanced at Meg, who was just beginning to stir. She could look so cool and efficient when they were working. Lying there, with her hair a dark and tempting halo around her face, she managed to look like a provocative vixen, even asleep.

  He didn’t have time to wonder if what they’d done was a mistake, whether it was right or wrong; it had felt natural, and he could never regret the night.

  Neither could he linger.

  She was blinking at the daylight coming through the drapes. He couldn’t resist a tap on her backside. “Hey, new girl, no hot morning sex. We have to be at Arlington in an hour.”