by Kris Norris
Mallory flicked her gaze to Sawyer before focusing on Don’s face. “Like what?”
Don shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe something along the lines of you two getting married?”
Her stomach fell to her feet as she fought to keep her expression even. She forced in a gentle breath as she tilted her head slightly to the side. “Married? We haven’t seen each other for the better part of two years. Don’t you think that if we’d done something as foolish as that, one of us would have ended it by now?”
Don scrutinised her face, swinging his gaze over to Sawyer before swearing under his breath. “Fuck. You know what? Forget I asked. ‘Cause if this blows up the way I think it might, I want plausible deniability.”
With that he left, leaving a sudden void in the room. Mallory shifted restlessly on her feet, not sure if she should stay or push past Sawyer and head back to her desk, praying a hole would open up and swallow her.
Sawyer cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look slightly uncertain. He glanced at Cole, then back at her. “So. You really into that mixed martial arts stuff now?”
She raised the corner of her mouth into a grin. “Eighteen months. Just had to wait for my ribs to heal enough.”
“Weren’t you badass enough before?”
Sadness tumbled through her stomach, but she tamped it down. “It’s like that old saying. You never know what you’re going to need until one day you turn around and don’t have it.” She tried to shrug off the uneasy memory of that night as it clawed at the edges of her consciousness. “Now I have it.”
Sawyer’s mouth drew tight at her words. He sighed, leaning against the door as he continued to stare at her, his gaze repeatedly running the length of her body. She didn’t flinch, wondering who would look away first, when Cole snorted and walked to the door.
He stopped beside Sawyer, patting the man on the shoulder as he turned towards both of them. “As much as I love being in the middle of awkward situations…I think I’ll head back to my desk and let you two fight it out on your own.” He gave her a smile before looking at Sawyer. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
Sawyer watched Cole leave, glancing at her when he’d disappeared beyond the glass panels. “He’ll be right outside? Jesus, Mal, what the hell does he think I’m going to do?”
She chuckled, resting her ass against Don’s desk. “Actually, that comment was for your benefit, in case you thought you needed him.”
Sawyer arched his eyebrow. “Me? Then I suppose the question is, what does he think you’re going to do to me?” He nodded at her. “Attack me with some of your new moves?”
She waved her hand in the air to dismiss the notion. “Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t attack you, Sawyer.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “I’d just shoot you.”
He flashed her a wide smile, accentuating the dimples in his cheeks. “Now, darling. That sounds a bit simple for your tastes.”
The endearment sent another shiver skittering down her spine, and she had to squeeze her thighs together to keep the empty feeling growing in her groin from taking control. Despite what her body clearly wanted, there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d do more than glare at him, not when she already knew the outcome.
She sighed, resting more of her weight against the desk. “I’ve grown to appreciate the simple things in life. Less chance of them turning around and biting you in the ass.”
The vein in Sawyer’s temple danced as he took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them. “Technically speaking, I believe it was you who wanted the marriage annulled. I just got out of the way.”
“Two thousand miles out of the way. And I believe I simply asked you to reconsider the arrangement until my damn memory returned. That entire day is nothing more than a blur at best.”
“Oh, so I was supposed to just pretend that the most important event in my life never happened? That we never said any vows? Nice, darling.”
Mallory huffed, spearing her hands through her hair as she fought the urge to pull it out—or strangle the man standing a few feet away. How he always managed to turn her words around mystified her. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Damn it, Sawyer, between the trauma, the blood loss and the damn drugs, all I remember from that day are snapshots of lying on the pavement, your hand covered in blood as you tried to hold my fucking side together. I know we’d talked about marriage before, but… I don’t even remember going to the chapel, let along signing those papers a few days earlier. I mean, damn, you have to wait like—what—three days or something?”
The lines around Sawyer’s mouth tightened.
Mallory frowned. “Sawyer?”
Sawyer cursed, slamming his hand against the doorframe. “I wanted it to be a surprise. No friends. No family. Just us, together, at city hall. That’s what you said you wanted if you ever got married. We were going to have a huge party after. So sue me for using my connections to acquire the permit so we could be spontaneous. It’s not like I could have drugged you and forced you to marry me. But, for the record—that morning, you said it was ‘incredibly romantic’. Your words, darling.”
His words hit Mallory hard, stealing what little breath she had. God, if he only knew how wrong he was… Or maybe how right. She crossed her arms, not willing to back down. “I don’t doubt that it happened that way, that I was fully coherent and willing. It’s just… Shit. All I remember is waking up in the hospital ten days later, married, but with nothing more than a note saying you’d left. How the hell was I supposed to feel?”
“Convenient how you forgot the part where you freaked out on my ass and demanded the judge undo it.”
“I was hooked up to morphine. I can assure you I didn’t have any idea what I was saying or why I was saying it.”
“You seemed to remember everything just fine after the surgery. You even told me how pretty the ring was. Then it was as if a few days later you came to your senses or something. You went ballistic, acting as if I’d somehow tricked you. And I think you made your feelings perfectly clear, morphine or not, so I gave you the space you obviously wanted.”
“I didn’t want space. I wanted—” She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to bring up what was better left unsaid. She took a deep breath, allowing some of her anger to dissipate. “You know what? Let’s just forget it. Ancient history, as they say. We’ll just pretend like we actually enjoy being in the same room together, and as soon as we catch this copycat son of a bitch, you can run back to Albuquerque and work on your tan.”
Mallory took a step, planning on walking past him, when Sawyer moved with her, blocking her way. Any pretence of a calm façade had vanished, leaving his face creased with raw emotion.
“You’re not going anywhere until we settle this.”
She stood her ground, more than ready to knock him on his ass, when Cole appeared in the doorway.
“Hate to break up the reunion, kids, but forensics just called. They’re faxing over their preliminary findings.” Cole motioned towards his desk. “Now are you two actually going to do some work, or should I call the paramedics, just in case?”
“No need. I think we’re about done here. Isn’t that right, Sawyer?”
Mallory glared at Sawyer, nodding to Cole as she followed his lead.
Sawyer grabbed her arm as she darted past him, stopping her within an inch of his body. He crowded her against the doorframe, his warm breath tickling the shell of her ear. “You can run, darling, but don’t get any wild ideas that this is anything close to being done.”
She turned her head, ignoring the way his lips caressed her jaw as he slowly pulled back, keeping his mouth within kissing distance of hers. A surge of desire seared through her veins, followed closely by overwhelming hurt.
“You’ve got it all wrong, baby. You’re the one who runs.” She pulled free from his grasp, taking a much-needed step away. “Now if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get back to work.”
Sawyer let her go, mumbling so
mething under his breath as she walked to Cole’s desk, pulling a chair over as he waited beside the fax machine. She could feel Sawyer staring at her, but she ignored it, keeping her gaze centred on the spot between Cole’s shoulder blades. A volley of emotions roiled around inside her, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to beat Sawyer senseless, or beg him to fuck her against the wall. It’d been two years, but he was still the one—the only one.
Cole grabbed the papers and sank into his chair, shifting his gaze between her and a spot just beyond her left shoulder. He furrowed his brow, silently asking if she was okay. She gave him a smile, nodding at the sheets in his hands.
He shook them. “Okay, let’s see what they found.” He placed them on his desk, his fingers tracing the notes. “Time of death between six and seven p.m. No useable prints. Rope was standard nylon available from any hardware store. No particulates found in the knife wound—they’re still determining the composition of the matter found under her nails and in her hair, but there were minute traces of latex, possibly from gloves.” He sighed as he skipped down the page. “Wait. Here it is. Two distinct DNA samples were found. One was too damaged to get results and proved inconclusive. The other is a confirmed match—” His breath hitched and held as his gaze raised to hers. He grimaced and pushed to his feet, taking a step away before turning and handing her the sheet. “To John Davies.”
Mallory stared at the sheet, the name typed in black mocking her. Her knees buckled and she plopped into Cole’s chair, her fingers still fisted around the paper. “Impossible. It’s just fucking impossible.”
Cole sighed and moved over to her. “Now, Mal—”
“Don’t patronise me, Cole. For God’s sake, we were standing right there in the room when they brought the bastard in. Are you honestly trying to tell me that six hours before he was out killing this girl when the rest of the world believed he was eating his last meal of greasy take-out?” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “He is dead, right? I mean, they called it…after the injection?”
Sawyer stepped closer to Cole’s desk, entering her peripheral vision. “Don’t you know? You just said you were there.”
Shame hunched her shoulders as she shifted her gaze slightly. “Fisher called just as it began, and I couldn’t bring myself to stay and…”
She didn’t finish, cringing at the pleading quality to her voice. No wonder the director knew how she felt. She had a neon sign tattooed across her forehead.
Cole cupped her shoulder. “He’s got to be dead. Short of the second coming of Jesus, no one can survive an overdose of sodium thiopental. But just in case, that’s why the doctor’s present. To declare time of death. Besides, the first thing I did after we saw the body in the alley was have the morgue confirm his identity. He’s there, black body bag, tagged toe and all.” His gaze shifted towards Sawyer before looking back at her. “You know I think you’re the toughest badass in this joint. Hell, most of the time, I figure you’re the one protecting our asses. But if you’re not up to this…I get it, Mal. Like I said last night. No one expects you to forget.”
She gave him a smile, ignoring the concern flashing in Sawyer’s eyes. “I’m fine, I just… It’s like trying to put a puzzle together only to realise you don’t have any of the edge pieces. None of this makes sense.” She stood, handing Cole the report. “And with a mug like yours, there’s no doubt you’re the brawn in this relationship.” She dodged his attempted slap on the shoulder.
Sawyer moved closer. “Let’s just think about this for a moment. There’re really only a few possibilities. First, John Davies has an evil twin running around carrying on his work.”
Mallory snorted. “I think that would have come out during the first investigation, but, yeah. I guess it’s possible. What else?”
Sawyer shrugged. “John Davies has us all fooled and someone got him out of jail, rigged his death to appear real, got a lookalike body for the morgue and is now harbouring his creepy ass, or we’ve got a copycat on our hands who has samples of Davies’ blood, DNA, you name it. Maybe a technician or reporter or, I don’t know, janitor from the original case—someone who had access to him while he was in jail.”
Cole nodded. “Right. So our perp—” He held up the paper, pointing to the bottom. “This inconclusive sample…gets some of Davies’ blood, hair and skin and plants it at the scene, doing a perfect imitation of Davies’ method, including details not released to the press—which is a mystery all its own, but whatever. The real question is, for what gain? Now that Davies is dead, the murderer has to know Davies will be eliminated from our list of possible suspects, even if the killer leaves a pool of the creep’s blood at the scene.”
“Maybe it was some kind of protest against his death?” She shrugged and leaned against the desk. “Or a tribute to his demented work.”
Sawyer stepped forward, stopping dangerously close to her. “Or maybe we’re overlooking another possibility.”
She met his gaze. “What possibility?”
“That our original assumption on Davies’ case was wrong.”
“Which assumption? The batshit crazy part or the stone cold killer part?”
“The part where he worked alone.”
Mallory shook her head. “Cole and I went through the old records, looking for that. There wasn’t any evidence that pointed along those lines, and it’s not usually the case in serial killings. Only a small fraction of these kinds of killers work with an accomplice. And Davies was obsessively meticulous about every aspect of his presentation. Having a partner would have made it extremely difficult to stay true to that design at the level Davies displayed.”
“Maybe so, but it fits. That’s how our guy knows what pose to put the girl in, how to tie that stupid sash…how to mess with us by leaving Davies’ blood at the scene.” He leaned against the desk beside her, brushing his thigh against hers. “It’s just a theory, but the last time I checked, ghosts didn’t bleed.”
Mallory expelled a long, slow breath. The sleepless night was definitely catching up with her. She glanced from Sawyer over to Cole and back again. “Okay, looks like we’ve got a few theories to test. I’ll go over the records from the jail. Maybe there’re some leads on someone he served time with or visitors that may have wanted to stage an act like this. Cole, you cross-reference suspects from the old cases against any connections we have to Davies since his incarceration.” She paused, finally looking up at Sawyer. “I guess that leaves you to go over the previous files and see if Cole and I missed anything last night that might point towards an accomplice. It was pretty late, so…”
Cole grabbed his chair, dragging it across the floor in front of his computer. “I’m on it.”
Sawyer tapped her thigh, sending a rush of heat surging through her. She stared at where his fingers curled around her pants, suddenly wishing there was nothing but skin and sweat between them. The image burned her cheeks and she didn’t quite meet his gaze as she turned to him.
“Problem?”
Sawyer rubbed her thigh again. “Just that I don’t have anywhere to work.”
She finally dragged her focus up to his face, immediately wanting to smack the sexy smile off it. “I suppose you can share my desk. Grab a chair and sit on the other side. All the files are in that folder. I just hope you find something we missed, because right now, our prime suspect is a spectre.”
“Does that make us those meddling kids?”
“Only if I can be Daphne. Velma’s got that bad haircut and she’s always losing her damn glasses.”
His gaze swept down her body, pausing in all the right places before slowly travelling back up. “Oh, you’re Daphne, all right. And I know exactly why Fred wanted in her pants.”
Mallory shook her head, picked up the folder and slapped it against his chest. “Just get to work. And if you’re lucky, I’ll try to remember why I shouldn’t throw random objects at your head.”
Chapter Three
Sawyer Kent scrubbed a hand down his face, fighting
off the yawn that had been threatening for over twenty minutes, as he dropped the folder on the desk. He’d been staring at the files for hours, but hadn’t been able to find the lead he’d been hoping for. If Davies had been working with an accomplice, the man had done a brilliant job at hiding that fact.
Sawyer leant back in his chair, looking over at Mallory. She’d lasted until about ten minutes ago before she’d palmed her head in her hands and closed her eyes. Though he was certain she’d only intended on taking a short break, her obvious fatigue had taken precedence, and she’d fallen asleep with her head nestled in the crook of her elbow on top of her desk. Even now, he could just discern the soft steady sound of her breath as it fluttered the stray wisps of chestnut-coloured hair about her face.
He clenched his jaw. This wasn’t how he’d ever envisioned a reunion. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever had. After the breakdown she’d had in the hospital room, he’d vowed never to hurt her again. Yet here he was, two feet away, watching her work herself to the point of exhaustion, mostly because she didn’t know how to handle his presence.
That and because she was as stubborn as a mule.
A hand curled around his shoulder and he turned, looking into Cole’s penetrating gaze.