Cold Malice

by Toni Anderson

  Mac examined her closely and then moved her until she stood beside a bench. “Sit down while I find you something for the headache.”

  She could fall in love with him for that alone. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed as she leaned her head back against the cool wall.

  She could hear him talking heatedly with his colleagues, but she zoned out. She didn’t care anymore. She was done.

  “Here.”

  She looked down as he slipped two red tablets into her palm and handed her a cup of water from the dispenser.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed them and got a refill before tossing the cup in the trash.

  “Let’s go.”

  She followed him out to the Jeep and he opened the door for her. It was close to midnight, and the night was as cold and miserable as she was.

  “Are we going to the airport?” She wanted to go home, wanted to sleep, wanted to forget she’d ever had the stupid idea to come to Idaho.

  He grimaced. “We have tickets on the first flight out in the morning. Turns out all the people I know with private jets are busy.” His eyes crinkled. “So much for contacts.”

  She didn’t like the way her heart did a little dance of joy when he smiled like that so she looked away. Going into an FBI field office had been a big reminder of who Mac really was.

  “I vote for finding a motel near the airport and grabbing a few hours’ sleep,” he said easily.

  “I agree.” Sleep hadn’t come last night or the night before. She’d dozed for maybe an hour. The pounding in her skull was starting to lighten up in response to the painkillers and she breathed deeper. Storm clouds hung heavy overhead and she figured it was likely a weather headache. Her skull was her own personal barometer. The stress and lingering stink of smoke and gasoline didn’t help.

  Mac headed toward the airport but most of the signs showed “No Vacancies.”

  Her headache receded enough for her to open her eyes without pain. Mac went to change lanes and they both jolted when a horn blasted from behind.

  “Shit,” Mac exclaimed. “Sorry.”

  She glanced at him anxiously. His eyes were red-rimmed and his mouth was grim. Despite his indefatigable attitude exhaustion dragged at his features, but he was too stubborn to admit it. He’d been driving for hours and presumably hadn’t slept much lately either. After ten minutes of driving around they finally spotted a place with a vacancy. He turned into the parking lot and pulled up outside the dingy looking office.

  The place was a basic motel, backing on to the highway. Not the Ritz but not a total dive either. There was a bar across adjoining concrete parking lots. A row of trucks filled one. SUVs and minivans filled the other.

  Mac went inside while she waited in the vehicle. When he came back his lips were pinched into a thin line and she noticed the pallor of his skin.

  “They have one room left, but it has twin beds. There are three conventions going on in town. Comic-Con, some science gig and a writers’ thing. We can carry on driving around on the off-chance of finding something more upmarket, but frankly…I’m beat.”

  “Let’s just take the room. It’s not like we’re going to jump each other.” Despite the fact she found him attractive, there was no way she was dumb enough to become involved with a federal agent.

  He grinned despite the fatigue, and one of those dimples came out to play. “You say that now, but this body has been known to drive women insane.” He paused for effect. “Or maybe that was just my ex.” He was grabbing his cell out of the console, “and maybe it wasn’t my body, maybe it was my mouth—”

  “Can it, McKenzie.” She smothered a yawn and grabbed her purse and small case. “Even if you were one of the Chippendales I’m too tired to care.” She was so tired she was five seconds away from falling over.

  “You sure?” He was serious now.

  “You keep to your side of the room. I’ll keep to mine. We’ll survive.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mac stared at the double bed with its limp pillows and ugly brown covers, then at Tess.

  “I swear the clerk said it had two twins.” The lying sack of shit.

  “In that case, someone stole one of them.” Rather than turning tail, she dragged her carryon luggage into the room and parked it on a chair.

  “I can sleep on the floor,” he offered.

  Tess shuddered visibly as she eyed the carpet. “You’ll catch something and die. I’ll end up in prison because they’ll assume I did it. Look, we’ve both had a shitty day.” She sounded resigned. “I’m going to shower, change and sleep. You keep to your side of the bed and I’ll keep to mine. This is no more intimate than us sleeping together in the car.”

  She had a point.

  She’d had a harrowing day, although he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed the adrenaline rush—not of seeing her in danger—but of ferreting out clues pertinent to his investigation. The information justified his coming to Idaho at such a crucial time.

  His phone rang and MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” blared out. He swore.

  Tess laughed and the tension on her face eased. “You never struck me as a rap fan.”

  He turned it off without answering the call. “My ex. Once again proving she has terrible timing.”

  “She’s persistent.”

  Mac rolled his shoulders. “She doesn’t like to be told ‘no.’”

  “You playing hard to get?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I’m not playing.”

  “Maybe she still loves you.”

  “If she loved me she wouldn’t have fucked her boss.” Mac stopped speaking. This wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with Tess.

  “You sure it isn’t pride that stops you calling her back?”

  Everything got very quiet inside his head. “You think I don’t know the difference between pride and love?”

  “It’s not that—”

  “It’s exactly that. Would you forgive someone who cheated on you?”

  Her eyes flashed to his. “No. I wouldn’t. But I’ve never loved anyone enough to marry them, have I?”

  With that she opened her case, took out a toiletries bag and something to wear and walked into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind her.

  Christ.

  He scrubbed his face again, trying to wake up his tired brain. He shouldn’t have snapped at her, but he didn’t like being made to feel guilty for ditching a bad marriage, although maybe it was just Tess. Everything about Tess made him feel guilty, especially the thoughts he was keeping strictly to himself.

  He checked the message from Heather—more nonsense asking if they could go for coffee. He shook his head in frustration. Why? Was she hoping Lyle saw them together? Why would she even want Lyle back after the guy cheated on her? Was Mac naïve to believe fidelity should be integral to a loving relationship? He thought of the people he knew in healthy relationships. No, he wasn’t naïve. Heather was selfish and greedy. Lyle was the same.

  Looking back now, he realized he’d married Heather partly out of lust, partly because she’d seemed like the kind of woman who’d make him look good to his bosses. She was social—too social, evidently—and knew how to suck up to the right people. He didn’t want to think about what a disaster it would have been if she’d focused on one of his co-workers rather than one of her own. And Heather wasn’t really a bad person. She was a liar and a cheat, but her main fault was being needy. She needed attention. She needed to be the center of people’s attention and didn’t mind causing a scene to make it happen.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the nearest chair. He should get a few hours’ sleep while he had the chance. He eyed the narrow confines of the bed. It should be okay as long as neither of them crossed that invisible line.

  He was a professional. He could do this.

  If his bosses found out he spent the night in the same bed as David and Francis Hines’s only remaining daughter when there was even the slightest possibility sh
e might be involved in these murders—say goodbye to running his own field office any time in the near future. Except, sticking close to Tess made it easier to do his job. He might be able to gain her trust, which was something she obviously didn’t give easily.

  She was probably innocent, in which case there was no issue with this situation. Finding out her brother wrote computer code raised alarm bells what with the whole chatroom on the dark web thing. The average citizen wouldn’t know how to mask their online identity, but Cole Fallon would.

  The pipes rattled as the water turned on.

  Even in his sleep-deprived state he had no trouble imagining Tess naked.

  The light flickered, snapping him out of his base thoughts.

  Use the enforced proximity to forward the case.

  Mac casually lifted the lid of Tess’s baggage and peered inside. There was nothing more damning than a change of clothes, including some rather sexy lingerie, and an ereader. He turned it on and checked out the books she liked. His eyebrows stretched high at the titles and covers: The Devil’s Doorbell, Taking Turns, The Dom’s Dungeon. She evidently enjoyed erotic novels. He made a mental note to check out some of the books—for research purposes.

  She had a laptop, but he didn’t have permission and wasn’t proficient enough to bypass her password—which he assumed she had—before she got out of the shower.

  He dumped his duffle on top of the drawers beside the bed. At least this way he kept an eye on the woman. A very close eye… Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and all that. Not that he thought of Tess as his enemy. Never had.

  That was the real problem.

  When it came to Tess Fallon he wasn’t objective.

  He sat down on the edge of the mattress and the springs squeaked. Great. He kicked off his shoes and lay back, staring at the brown water stains on the ceiling. They’d removed the hard drive from Jessop’s PC at the FBI field office and the hardware now resided in an evidence bag inside his duffle. That evidence wasn’t leaving his side.

  He yawned. To hell with it. He’d close his eyes until she came out of the bathroom.

  Next thing he knew he woke up with a start in a pitch-black room to the sound of a mattress squeaking in the next room.

  Where was he?

  Then the moaning began.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered irritably.

  A voice murmured in the darkness. “At least they seem to be having a fun.”

  Tess.

  Mac let out a long breath. He’d forgotten where he was and who he was with. He glanced at the digital alarm clock. One fucking a.m.

  Shit.

  “If my experiences are anything to go by the whole thing will be over soon.” Her voice was a velvet whisper.

  At least she had a sense of humor. He turned toward her. His eyes were gritty, but light from the parking lot shone through the skinny drapes making it relatively easy to see. He made out her outline buried up to her nose under the covers. He was fully dressed on top of the bedding. Definitely a good thing.

  “How long do you think it’ll take?” His voice was husky. He shouldn’t be talking to Tess about sex again, but he was curious. And until the guy in the next room got off no one was getting any sleep.

  “Three minutes?” She sounded warm and languorous. “Four tops.”

  “Three minutes? Who the hell have you been dating?”

  She snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner. “Apparently, I’m so incredibly sexy it’s my fault.”

  He grinned. “There are pills for that.”

  Her smile flashed in the shadows.

  “So I’ve heard. It’s kind of hard to introduce that into the general conversation before you get naked with someone. Maybe I should have sprinkled some in his salad.” She was silent for a moment as they listened to the wallbanger next door. “He cheated on me with my best friend even after I told her the sex was lousy,” she said quietly. “They actually eloped to Vegas.”

  “Bastards.”

  “I haven’t been able to forgive either of them, so I do understand your feelings for your ex. Sorry if I made you feel bad earlier. It was none of my business.” Her voice was small, as if she’d worried about his hurt feelings.

  “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  Their mattress creaked as she turned to face him. The rusty springs made them sink toward each other. All the saliva in his mouth evaporated, though sheets and two layers of clothing separated them. Everything about this felt intimate. More intimate than he’d been with anyone in years. Maybe ever.

  “Julie always said she was a sex goddess so it probably was me.” Tess sniffed.

  “Your best friend declared herself a sex goddess?” Mac asked. He felt her nod. “You can do that?”

  “Evidently,” she mumbled.

  “Does that mean I can declare myself a sex god?” He kept his voice low although there was no way the neighbors would be disturbed if the rhythmic knocking of the headboard was any indication.

  Tess laughed. “Only if you’re any good at it.”

  “I can last more than four minutes—”

  “Sex god.” Laughter echoed around the room. He hadn’t heard much laughter from Tess. It was a nice sound.

  “And the woman always comes first,” he added, unable to resist even though he should know better. He closed his eyes, determined to try and get back to sleep.

  “Super sex god.” She sighed.

  There was a crescendo of noise and screams—the good kind—from the adjoining room. Then blessed silence. The show was over. Thank God. He closed his eyes. The room was warm and he began to drift into that half-doze state.

  “Not that it’s always possible,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

  “Yeah, baby. Get on your knees.” A third voice joined in next-door and the sound of a slap came clear through the wall.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Mac growled.

  “Are there three of them?” Tess said, aghast.

  Mac smothered his frustration and squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck. “Apparently so.”

  “Oh, my God.” She scooted up the bed and stuck her ear against the paper-thin barrier.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. “Tess, you can’t do that!” Christ.

  “Why not?” She tried to tug out of his grip but he didn’t let go.

  “You can’t spy on people having sex.”

  “But they’re invading my privacy with their antics. How can it be my fault if I listen?”

  He kept up the pressure on her arm until she reluctantly lay back down.

  “Lying in bed and listening is one thing. Pressing your ear to the wall is something else entirely.”

  “You’re no fun,” she complained.

  Some sex obsessed thoughts entered his brain at that. He could be fun. They could be having a whole heap of fun right now if it wasn’t for the fact Tess was a former, if unwitting, member of the Pioneers. He swallowed and reminded himself to let go of Tess’s hand.

  “How long ago did you break up with the guy who cheated on you with your best friend?” Keep it casual. Dig for information. Don’t think about what they might be doing in the next room, or what the two of them could be doing in this one if only circumstances were a little different.

  “Last summer,” she said glumly. “When they got back from Vegas they were hitched. That was the first I heard about it. They were both very sorry.” Her voice got quiet and he could barely hear her over the rhythmic banging next door. Hell, the combination of listening to someone else having sex and lying in bed next to an attractive woman was having an unwanted effect on his man parts.

  Great. Just what I need.

  “Jason and I were both instructors at a taekwondo club. I’d persuaded Julie to start taking some self-defense classes.”

  “At least you found out before you got too serious.” But betrayal always hurt. />
  “True love seems to be a vicious myth.”

  “No kidding,” he agreed. “You haven’t dated since?”

  The bed moved as she shook her head.

  “The only male attention I’ve been getting is from my brother’s college buddies who seem to think they’ll get a credit for seducing anyone with a vagina.”

  Mac could imagine exactly what the frat boy type would think when they looked at Tess. His jaw clenched.

  “My little brother is mad at me,” she confessed quietly. “He overheard me saying that I thought an older woman being with a younger guy was gross, and then discovered he’s serious about an older woman. Tact was never my strong suit.”

  Mac filed the information away for when his brain woke up. They were still banging next door and he was considering going in there with his gun.

  “I received a lecture on equality from him and his buddies. It was humbling because they are so young and naïve and yet they were right. I was being sexist.”

  He grunted. “I guess it all depends on the age difference. Once people are adults who gives a damn as long as no one is being exploited.”

  Some days he was impressed by how mature he sounded.

  “When was your last relationship?” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Sorry. I guess that’s too personal for our relationship. It’s just you know pretty much everything about me—”

  “I didn’t know your ex was a limp dick asshole.”

  She laughed but she sounded sad now. His silence had made her feel like an outsider, again, but there was no way he was discussing his dubious list of nameless hookups. The reminder of his “relationships” over the last two years made him a little ashamed.

  “Well, it’s nice to know I have some secrets left,” she told him.

  “You always this chatty in bed?” he asked. Amused.

  “No.” She sounded horrified. “I’m not chatty at all. I’m quiet. Too quiet.” That statement seemed to hover between them like a challenge he was doing his best to ignore. The idea of making her scream…of touching her, of taking that peck on the lips they’d shared earlier and investigating the fuck out of it? It was killing him.

  Her hands covered her cheeks as if they burned. “I’m mortified by the fact someone, well three someones, are having kinky sex about two feet away from where we’re lying in bed like a couple of corpses. Not,” her voice rose, “that I think we should be having sex. God.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she seemed to hyperventilate.