Cold Malice

by Toni Anderson

  He tipped his head to the side. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t figure it out.”

  “Can they trace the plates on this vehicle to Steve McKenzie or the FBI?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Sure, if they have contacts in the rental place or if they know a cop who’ll ask for them.”

  Her eyes went huge. “You think they have cops on their side?”

  Mac huffed out a laugh. “Wasn’t that one of your daddy’s dreams? Getting a ghost skin working on the inside?”

  Tess closed her eyes and shuddered. He caught her by the shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of her head, but she looked up suddenly and they both froze. If he didn’t kiss her now it would look weird. She seemed to realize the same thing at the exact same moment he did. So he brushed his lips quickly over hers, caught off-guard by the electricity that zapped at his blood with a wave of molten heat.

  She bit her lower lip and he felt a punch of lust in his groin.

  He jolted when a truck started honking behind them. What the hell just happened?

  Jessop had opened the gate and was impatiently waiting for them to follow. Mac closed Tess’s door, walking around to climb into the driver’s seat and ignoring the fact he hadn’t reacted to a woman like that in years. Maybe ever.

  He started the engine and drove down a driveway he thought he’d left behind twenty years ago. Chills ran down his spine as ghosts bristled, and the memory of Tess’s kiss buzzed on his lips, but he concentrated on the task ahead. Getting distracted at this point could get them both killed.

  * * *

  Tess stared as they drove past old familiar fields. She spotted the hill where they’d tobogganed during some of the rare fun moments of her childhood. And a small copse of trees where they’d built a secret fort when she was barely able to toddle. Even Eddie had been fun back then.

  She didn’t want to think about Eddie.

  Twenty years in prison had hardened what little heart he’d had. But this old man, Jessop, wanted to look out for him like he was some poor lost soul. Her sore throat ached. Poor Eddie. Poor violent, twisted, sadistic Eddie.

  She didn’t realize how tense she was until Mac reached over and untangled her fingers from the fists she’d made in her lap.

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “You said that earlier when you talked me into wearing the wire.” She made a very unladylike huff. “Good thing I learned self-defense else I’d be dead.” She rubbed her throat and adjusted her scarf so the bruises remained hidden.

  “I’m sorry he grabbed you. I should have positioned a guard closer.” A muscle rippled in his jaw. “Look, we don’t have to stay at Jessop’s long. We eat, take whatever memorabilia he saved from the compound for you—”

  “I hope to God it isn’t the Hitler bust.”

  “I hated that fucking thing. Still gives me nightmares,” Mac agreed, and they shared a look of mutual horror. “Hopefully I can get a quick read on this guy, maybe take a quick look around his house without his knowledge and we can leave in time to catch the last flight out.”

  “Is that why you came to my house yesterday,”—had it only been yesterday?—“to get a ‘quick read’ on me?” She couldn’t help the bitterness that infiltrated her tone. She didn’t blame him, but it sucked to never be totally trusted. Although she was one to talk. She hadn’t told her ex, Jason, or her best friend, Julie, about her real identity. Their subsequent betrayal proved it had been the right decision.

  Mac pressed his lips together. “I came alone to reaffirm what I thought I already knew about you.” He flashed her a narrow-eyed stare. “Unfortunately, because you failed to mention your daddy’s birthday, there will be more agents with more questions.”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “So, it’s my fault the FBI didn’t figure that out?”

  His glare dissolved and he glanced away. “No, I should have seen it, but I was busy investigating four murders and that piece of the puzzle slipped past me.”

  Guilt made her feel small for blaming him. He was right. People were dying. Her sensitive nature didn’t matter anymore. “I honestly didn’t remember the significance of the date until after you’d left. I am sorry I didn’t call you.”

  She touched her lips, which still hummed from the insubstantial kiss Mac had laid on her when she’d climbed in the SUV. It had shot a bolt of longing deep into her core.

  She was truly pathetic. The guy was playing a role.

  She still hadn’t gotten hold of Cole. Had he genuinely not forgiven her stupid comment about older women and younger men? Her double standards were screaming at her every second with being stuck in this car with a man she’d been crushing on since she was ten years old. The nine-year age difference had been insurmountable back then. Now, at thirty, the age difference seemed irrelevant.

  Dangerous thoughts, but right now she was stuck with him. Perhaps that was for the best. The more willing she was to help the FBI, surely the better it was for her reputation? It was worth a shot. “What do you want me to do with Jessop?”

  “Try and get him talking about your parents but don’t be too obvious. You know how paranoid these people are.”

  “Ain’t paranoia if they’re really out to getcha.” She deepened her daddy’s twang and quirked her brows.

  Mac’s eyes widened. “That’s a little scary.”

  She laughed. “Daddy was a scary guy. What else?”

  “We both do our best to look around while appearing to not give a damn. I’m a…” He peered down at his suit and tie. “What the fuck do I do for a living if I wear a suit on my downtime?”

  “Oilman. Pretty much the only men in suits these guys will talk to. Oil and gas folks, or a preacher.”

  “No way would I pass for a preacher.” His mouth tightened. “I guess I can work for an oil company.”

  “Okay.” She was amused at his lack of enthusiasm but hid it. They needed to be serious. “Let’s keep the details to the bare minimum. Being secretive can go both ways.”

  Those eyes of his crinkled at the corners. “You’re good at this.”

  “Lying?” she scoffed.

  He groaned loudly. “I hope not, else I’m going to look like a damn fool when I get back to headquarters.”

  She glanced at him sharply. Did that mean he’d vouched for her? Or that someone else thought she was a suspect?

  “You’re good at thinking on your feet. Adapting.”

  “I’ve had to be. I’ve hidden my real identity my whole life, Mac. That tends to make a person cautious with information.”

  Mac held her gaze for a long moment then fiddled with his phone. “Shit. No signal.” He shoved the cell back in his pocket. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

  She raised one brow. “You okay with that?”

  He sent her a lazy grin. “I’ve had worse partners.”

  But she hadn’t lied earlier. She didn’t trust easily. In fact, she didn’t trust at all. Maybe she really was as paranoid as her folks had been, but she didn’t want to be. She wanted to be part of a team. She wanted to be one of the good guys.

  Jessop’s farmhouse appeared in the distance.

  She squinted at it against its pretty backdrop of pearly white. “I don’t remember ever visiting this place before.”

  “I did once.” He turned to look at her. “I rode out here leading a young colt your daddy had gotten hold of from somewhere.” Horses dotted across the fields and reminded him of another lifetime. “This guy, Jessop, has a weakness for horseflesh.”

  She found herself watching Mac’s hands curl around the steering wheel. Big hands. Strong hands. Broad with long fingers that looked more suited to soothing beasts than taming bad guys. It was his eyes that attracted her most, she realized with a start. Not just the tantalizing color which shifted from green to blue like the sunlight on a shallow sea. It was the intelligence she saw there, combined with compassion. Intelligence was an aphrodisiac for any smart woman, but compassion was vastly underrated. It was worth more than mon
ey, power, even truth. It gave morality to strength and comfort to suffering. She could fall for him for that reason alone.

  She suppressed her thoughts. She could deal with the idea of a childish crush. She couldn’t deal with the idea of more.

  She eyed the house. It was a pale river rock affair with a white-painted porch. There were stables and a bunk house across the paddock. A couple of thoroughbreds stood near the fence, lit up in the headlights. Both animals wore heavy-duty coats to help protect them from the weather.

  Jessop parked near the front steps and motion-sensitive lights flooded the area.

  Mac shaded his eyes. “It’s like a goddamned prison break.”

  She snorted.

  He drove the car in a circle so they were facing out. All the better for making a fast getaway.

  Her heart thumped and her mouth went dry. “I’m not happy about being here, McKenzie,” she murmured under her breath.

  “We’ll be fine. Let him do most of the talking.”

  Jessop headed up the front steps and waited for them. The trickle of fear that crawled all over her skin as she got out of the car did nothing to reassure her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Unease stirred beneath Mac’s skin. On the surface, Jessop was a perfect host, but something about this guy was making his senses twitch. There was a disturbance in the Force.

  Mac hadn’t planned this. Should be in DC running the task force. But this opportunity was too serendipitous to step away from, especially with the added bonus of having Tess by his side. As a Fed, he wouldn’t get in the door. But as Theresa Jane Hines’s fiancé he was almost part of the family.

  There was nothing in the law to say an FBI agent couldn’t lie to obtain the information he needed for a case, but he knew the best lies were the ones that stuck closest to the truth. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself.

  He’d certainly never imagined he’d work undercover in any capacity in this part of the world again, yet here he was, here they were, working as allies.

  He wanted to trust Tess.

  He considered her as she sat with a fragrant bowl of beef stew in front of her. She hadn’t eaten much. Her scarf was coiled high over her tight-fitted, black shirt, presumably to hide the marks her own brother had put on her skin. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled back in a messy knot and though she was pale and didn’t wear a stitch of makeup she was ridiculously attractive.

  Everything, from her quiet life as an accountant to the fact Eddie had tried to kill her, screamed her innocence. But she was smart. If she was involved, it was entirely possible they’d plan everything down to the last detail—including Eddie’s attack if she thought the Feds were onto them.

  Even though he convinced they were on the same team she was definitely hiding something. He needed to know what that something was.

  She felt his stare and sent him a curious smile.

  He smiled back, but as much as he wanted to trust her he couldn’t stake his career on it.

  Mac reached for another slice of freshly baked bread. “You cooked all this yourself?” Mac asked Jessop. He was impressed despite himself. He could cook, but he rarely had time, and there was no fun when he was the only one eating.

  Jessop nodded and chewed his food before answering. “My wife died a couple years ago, God rest her soul.” He crossed himself. “Got a daughter, but she lives out east.”

  Henry pointed to a photo on the refrigerator of a small boy holding the hand of an older woman who was presumably Jessop’s late wife. “When my Mary died it was learn to cook or starve.” He patted his round stomach. “Thankfully, cooking ain’t rocket science. Just takes a bit of patience, like everything else.” A smile lifted the wrinkles on his face, like a concertina.

  “The food is delicious. We appreciate it,” Tess said warmly, though she hadn’t eaten much.

  She sipped her red wine. Mac ignored the glass in front of him. He wanted a clear head to deal with anything that might present itself.

  Jessop didn’t pepper them with questions. In Mac’s mind, the less people asked questions, the more they probably had to hide.

  Mac cleaned his bowl and sat back, his stomach satisfied even as his mind hungered. Still he waited while Tess and Jessop exchanged a few more memories about her parents. Tess smiled but Mac could see the strain keeping any real happiness out of her eyes. She didn’t try and hide it from Jessop. Why would she? As far as Jessop was concerned the Hines family had been brutally slain by the cops—why wouldn’t that cause stress in their one remaining daughter?

  “Your little brother—how old is he now?” asked Jessop.

  “He’ll be twenty next month.” Tess smiled. “At six feet two, he’s not so little anymore.”

  “Tall like his daddy.”

  Tess smiled tightly. “My daddy always seemed like a giant to me. I guess they’re about the same height.”

  “What’s he do?” Jessop wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Something in the action propelled Mac back to his own childhood, his own father, eating, drinking, lashing out.

  His jaw clenched.

  Tess dabbed her lips with the napkin and Mac noticed the old man watching her with a gleam in his eye. It was close enough to lust to make something possessive rear up inside Mac.

  Great. He was jealous of a woman who was posing as his fake fiancée.

  “We better hit the road.” Mac needed to get moving and he could tell Tess didn’t want to discuss her brother. “Would you mind if I used the restroom before we head off?”

  “Not at all. Go on through to the living room while you wait, Theresa Jane. I’ll track down those things I mentioned earlier.”

  “Would you like help clearing up?” she offered.

  A knot formed in Mac’s throat. It reminded him of all the times Tess had been taken advantage of as a child. Not because she was weak—but because she was good.

  Jessop shook his head decisively. “Guests don’t help clean up. My wife might be dead but she’d still throw a fit if she found out.”

  Jessop led him to the downstairs washroom that also housed a small shower stall. The decor was folky Americana. Not a hooded robe in sight. Mac checked the medicine cabinet. There were razors and deodorant. No medication though.

  Mac washed up and came out of the room as quietly as possible. Jessop was just coming out of a downstairs bedroom carrying a small cardboard box. Mac got a quick glance inside the room before the man shut the door firmly behind him. It looked like a teen’s room with posters on the wall and a computer desk set up against one wall. The computer screen was dark but there’d been a light under the table, suggesting it was plugged in.

  He wanted to get his hands on that machine.

  “Can I help?” He offered to carry the box.

  “I got this. You go on ahead.” Jessop indicated with one hand.

  Reluctantly Mac walked into the living room to see Tess standing in front of the fireplace holding her hands out for warmth.

  There was an overstuffed floral couch and a couple of photographs in silver frames on a sideboard against the far wall. Hardly a den of iniquity, but Mac had learned a long time ago that the veneer of civility was sometimes just that.

  Jessop placed the box on the coffee table and smiled at Tess, but she didn’t come any closer.

  “Wouldn’t swap this part of the world for all the money in the world, but it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t change a few things if I could—like the weather,” Jessop said.

  “World’s a long way from perfect,” Mac agreed. “Weather’s the least of our problems.”

  Jessop chuckled, but didn’t take the bait.

  She leaned against the wooden mantel and covered a yawn. “Sorry. I’m suddenly bone tired.”

  Mac doubted she’d got any sleep last night either.

  “What did you say you do?” Jessop asked Tess abruptly.

  Mac froze. They hadn’t come up with an alternative career for her. She smiled sweetly. “I’m an egg farmer d
own in Mississippi. Free range. I run it with a friend of mine, although I might sell my share when Mac and I get married.” She batted her lashes at him.

  Mac’s eyes widened. What the hell happened to keeping lies close to the truth?

  Jessop’s brows rose. “Nothing wrong with farming.”

  Did he suspect them? Or was Mac reading too much into the situation? Being undercover had always been lonely work, but having a partner to worry about was worse.

  “What do you have in there?” Tess stared at the box like it might be full of spiders. She didn’t come any closer. He didn’t blame her.

  “The cops took most things after they murdered your kin.”

  Mac winced inwardly.

  “But they didn’t take everything.”

  Mac leaned over as the old man opened the box. What the hell had they missed?

  Jessop pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Turner Diaries.

  Mac wanted to roll his eyes.

  Tess took a few steps forward to take the battered paperback. She pursed her lips as she flicked through the racist garbage. “I must have read this book a hundred times as a kid.” She flipped through the pages and one came loose and fluttered to the floor. She bent down to pick it up. “I drew pictures in this one.”

  She turned to show him flowers in the margin, drawn in crude black biro. She sounded nostalgic but Mac heard the irony layered beneath. That piece of bullshit and the Holy Bible were the only two books allowed in Kodiak Compound, so of course she’d read it a hundred times.

  Eddie and Walt had also kept a stash of Playboys under their mattress, and he doubted they were the only sinners in the compound. Disgust for the brothers and for himself fermented inside. He should have protected the girls better. But he still didn’t know how he could have done that and shut down the group. He’d been a rookie cop still finding his place in the world. Trying to prove he was worthy of the faith his bosses had placed in him. Looking back with twenty years’ law enforcement experience, none of the choices had been easy.

  On cue, Jessop hauled out an old family Bible and handed it to Tess.