by Addison Fox
Wounding the main suspect in the kidnapping of a teenage girl was a Bureau no-no, no matter how badly the bastard deserved it.
The rip of paper pulled him back from his thoughts, and he glanced down at the printouts in his hands. The thick stack was crinkled in his fist, several edges torn. Easing up, he forced a sense of calm back into his thoughts. The situation was monumentally unfair, but he was working through it.
And he’d get through it.
“Derek?”
Landry stood over him, an even larger stack of papers in her hand, curiosity riding high in her gaze. “I made a few copies of the files you called up. I’m not sure there’s much there but I erred on the side of pulling more so we could sift through it later.”
“Good.”
She hesitated, that vivid blue gaze roaming over his face as if searching for answers. “Did you find something?”
“No. Nothing yet.”
“Well, that’s good, then. No evidence points to the fact that Noah’s not exactly who he thinks he is. Who he’s always been.”
“We’ll see what leads turn up after we spend some time with the material.”
“Of course.” Her lush mouth settled into a thin line, and the urge to apologize hit him square in the chest. When the impulse faded, one more powerful rose up in its place.
The desperate need to uncover the truth.
It was the hallmark of his personality, and it had been the driving force of his life, calling him to a career in law enforcement.
Landry settled into the cubby next to him and made herself busy with the stack of printouts. The stiff set of her shoulders hadn’t faded, but her focus on the material took some of the edge off. He watched as she typed notes into a small tablet on her lap, and he took the quiet moment to observe her.
She was prickly, yes. And she could turn on the haughty-rich-girl attitude at a moment’s notice. But he’d also seen glimpses of another woman beneath those shields.
She was loyal to her family, even though several of them didn’t seem to deserve the allegiance. And her thorny demeanor hid a deeply compassionate person. First her devotion to her children’s charity and then her obvious concern over digging into Noah’s background.
Landry Adair cared far more deeply than she was likely comfortable admitting.
A sweep of hair framed her face where she’d pushed it behind her ear, and Derek followed the firm line of her jaw. She was a beautiful woman, there was no doubt about it, but there was something else there.
Something rather fierce, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Landry Adair had the soul of a warrior. And after spending a few days with her he was more and more sure the people she surrounded herself with were completely unaware of that fact.
Her parents were more concerned with their own lives than the lives of their children. Her oldest brother, by all reports, had been maniacally focused on his career before settling down a few months ago. And her next oldest brother had spent his life in military service. Fair choices for both Whit and Carson, but it would have been all too easy to dismiss their little sister as they went about, focused on their own lives.
With that thought came another—an unbidden memory of Sarah.
She’d been the youngest of several children and had used her role as the baby of the family all too often to get her way. One of their last fights before they broke up had been about what she wanted.
She’d resented his job. She’d hidden it well during their courtship, the subtle disapproval rearing its head only on rare occasions. After they got engaged, though, her attitude had changed.
Resentment over his devotion to his work.
Anger over his long hours.
And bitterness for the victims—missing persons with no one to stand for them—that he worked so hard to find.
The day she left he’d been surprised, blindsided by her abrupt decision. But it was only later, when he tabled his hurt male pride, that he remembered all the signs that had littered the journey of their failed relationship.
While he couldn’t let go of his need to see the Frederickson kidnapping through to completion, his memories of Sarah had faded to near nothingness. The wounds still flared up at ill-remembered moments, but the pain of ending his engagement had lost the twin edges of regret and disappointment.
Now there was simply indifference.
“I heard you were down here in the boiler room. And with a beautiful woman, no less.”
Mark’s voice interrupted his musings and Derek glanced up to see his partner’s jovial face. The harsh glare of the fluorescent lights hit his features at odd angles and Derek stood, taking his friend’s outstretched hand. “There hasn’t been a boiler down here for ages.”
“Once a boiler room, always a boiler room.”
Derek didn’t miss Mark’s pointed stare at Landry—or the scrape of her chair as she stood—and he made quick work of introducing the two of them.
“I guess I know why Derek picked the darkest place in the building instead of his desk upstairs.” Mark’s smile grew even broader, his eyes flashing amusement.
“Why’s that?” Landry’s polite smile never wavered in return, but Derek heard the notes of steel that lay beneath the polish.
“He clearly wants to keep you all to himself.”
“Then Derek and I are on the same page.”
Landry settled a hand on Derek’s shoulder, the warmth of her fingers at odds with the chilly tone of her voice. Mark had never been the most suave fellow—and beautiful women made him nervous on the best of days—but his wide eyes and even wider smile had Derek reconsidering the wisdom of bringing Landry here.
Although their office was well integrated, with several female field agents on the team, it was no place for someone he was pretending to romance.
Landry’s touch—and the not-so-subtle implication they were a couple—only added to his conviction they should have stayed away.
Mark’s eyes widened a bit further before he visibly backed down in the face of Landry’s cool reception. “I just wanted to come down and say hi. Give Derek an update on the latest with some of our cases.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
If the notes of dismissal weren’t clear in her tone, her return to her seat and obvious fascination with her tablet did the trick. Mark gestured toward the hallway and Derek followed, resigned to the explanations that would inevitably come when he and Landry reached the car.
* * *
Landry focused on her notes and tried to ignore the lingering unease Derek’s partner had managed to stir up. She had no doubt Derek trusted him—there was no way you could work that closely with someone if you didn’t—but she couldn’t shake the sense of dissatisfaction that had registered in Mark’s eyes.
Cold, flat and envious.
She’d seen the look often enough in the people her parents associated with. Other society families who didn’t have properties that matched the lushness of Adair Acres or business owners who hadn’t seen quite the same annual profits that AdAir Corp generated.
Humans liked their boundaries. And they liked it even more when they were the alpha dog. Landry had sensed—no, she’d known—in mere milliseconds that Derek was the alpha in his partnership with Mark.
“You hungry?”
At the mention of food, Landry’s stomach growled as she glanced up from her notes. “Where’s Mark?”
“That was a quick visit. He’s working a field assignment and had to get back to it.”
The statement gave her the opening she was looking for. “Is that a big part of the job? Field assignments?”
“It can be. Depends on what your job entails, but yes, it’s a significant part of an agent’s duties.”
“Is my family considered field duty?”
“No.”
The finality of his tone brought her up short. “Your time investigating my family isn’t sanctioned by the FBI?”
“I’ve been given leave, but this isn’t an FBI matter.”
The husky timbre of his voice wavered on the word leave and once again, Landry struggled to understand what was going on. While she’d blithely followed Derek down to the archives earlier, the afternoon had given her new perspective.
The FBI subbasement obviously held the tools they’d needed, but Mark’s visit had clued her in that it was a little odd that Derek hadn’t even tried to take her past his desk.
“If we’re not a field assignment then why are you staying at Adair Acres?”
“It’s awfully hard to play your boyfriend from Los Angeles.”
“Maybe.” She cocked her head and evaluated his sexy, trim form.
Probably, her conscience taunted. Besides, would she really want him a hundred miles away?
“And I’m sure you know best of all, but no one argues with a favor for the former vice president of the United States.”
Derek’s smile was broad, bordering on cocky, and she gave him credit for the quick save. As answers went, it was effective yet evasive. But as a woman used to digging for the answers that lay underneath what people said, it was the fact that his grin didn’t quite reach his shuttered gaze that had her antennae on high alert.
“I would imagine it’s a challenge living like that. Always in the field.”
“How so?”
“Part of the fun of a job that’s always changing is that things are always different.”
“Sure.” Derek nodded. “I can see that.”
“In your case, the scenery changes but the lowlifes never do.”
Where she expected that stoic reserve to remain, instead something in the dark depths of his eyes seemed to open. “No. They never do.”
Landry wanted to dig further but sensed he’d opened as wide as he was going to. Instead of her normal bullish rush to have things her way, the realization that she might get better information if she bided her time had her nodding. “Why don’t we go get that late lunch, then? I know a mean little stall at Farmers Market that makes the most amazing hummus.”
“The one by the nut place?”
“Yep.”
“Let’s go.”
She navigated the normal midday traffic as they left FBI headquarters, excited for a stop at one of her favorite LA spots.
“I have to admit I’m a bit surprised.”
Landry turned toward him as she waited for the turn onto West Third. “Surprised about what?”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Farmers Market girl. The Grove, I can see. High-end shopping and eateries. But its sweet, old-fashioned neighbor is a surprise.”
Derek’s words struck like swift arrows and she swallowed hard, fighting off the initial urge to offer up a smart-ass remark. Instead, she took her turn at the light and used the moment to marshal her thoughts.
How did they keep coming back to the same place?
No. Correction. How did she keep coming back to the same place? Landry Adair, society girl.
Although she knew herself well enough to know she’d fastened on her cool, rich-girl attitude from the first moment with Derek, she also knew she’d let it slip more than once.
Was it possible that sense of connection she’d felt hadn’t been there at all?
With an indifferent shrug, she answered his question in simple, perfunctory tones. “I like being outside. I like food prepared by hand. This place has it all.”
“I always imagined the Farmers Market would be a great first-date place.”
Since she’d put on the shield of disinterest, she couldn’t exactly pull it right back off, so she kept her voice cool as she maneuvered through the parking lot. “A date?”
“Absolutely. It’s casual here but the market has the sophistication of being a part of old Hollywood. Definitely good first-date vibes.”
“So how many women have you brought here?” She put the SUV in Park and turned toward him, intrigued regardless of the shield of disinterest.
“Well, despite the brilliance of my plan, I am forced to admit I’ve never actually brought a first date here. But Sarah and I used to—” He hesitated before moving on quickly. “I used to come here often.”
Sarah?
Landry fought the subtle squeeze of jealousy that he’d spent considerable time here with another woman, firmly pushing the green monster away. Derek wasn’t a date, he wasn’t her boyfriend and he wasn’t a man she wanted to get to know better. They were playing parts, and his background was none of her business.
And if she said it often enough maybe she’d start believing it.
* * *
The scents of the market surrounded them as they walked past the vibrant stalls. As usual, Landry nearly changed her mind ten times before she reached the small stand that served the best hummus outside Greece.
Derek put in his order, then gave her his full attention. “You’re a determined woman. I’d have stopped several stalls ago and begun working my way here.”
“If I tried all those places I wouldn’t have room for the hummus.”
“Isn’t that part of the fun?”
“You might be able to consume mass quantities of sugar-and butter-based deliciousness, but I’m not quite so lucky.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Derek’s gaze turned heated as it flickered below her line of sight. “You work out often enough. Live a little.”
Her gaze traveled over his fit physique in return, the image of a male in his prime stamped in every inch of the large arms that crossed over a broad chest. “Maybe.”
“I’m serious. Have a doughnut. Eat a scoop of ice cream. Oooh.” He pointed toward an area several counters down. “Or those really awesome crepes at that stall down there are incredible.”
“I don’t eat those things. And when I do I certainly don’t eat them all at once.”
“Iron-willed control.”
Years of her mother’s sharp censure rang in her head. Patsy Adair believed a woman needed to look a certain way: slender to the point of waifishness. Landry had never quite lived up, her tall physique more athletic than her mother deemed fashionable, but she made up for it with ruthless attention to everything that went into her mouth.
“For the record, your first-date skills suck.”
Derek shrugged. “So noted.”
Their teenage waitress shot him a look across the counter while she finished filling a takeaway tray with their lunch. Landry took the tray the moment the girl set it on top of the counter. Her hands shook with subtle anger as she walked toward an empty table with her food.
She had spent her life since hitting puberty having this argument several times a day. First with her mother, then later with herself.
An Adair had to live up to expectations.
An Adair had to set an example.
An Adair had to be perfect.
And where had it gotten her? Or any of them? With a dead father, a mother who’d run off and a mysterious kidnapping that was still unsolved nearly four decades later.
Perfect? Hell. She’d settle for normal.
* * *
“I can’t seem to help myself.” Derek set his tray down but stayed standing, willing Landry to look up at him. When she finally did, he saw the misery stamped clearly in her gaze and cursed that damn streak inside him that had to tug line after line.
Landry Adair was a grown woman. She could eat whatever the hell she wanted and it wasn’t any of his business. So why had he pushed?
“Can’t help yourself with what?”
“Acting like a jerk.”
“No, you can’t.” She tore off a piece of pita an
d dipped it in her hummus before looking back up at him, her voice softer. “You’re an observer by nature.”
At the evidence of a softened beachhead, Derek took his seat. “So are you. You watch and notice things. You’re always thinking, and your innate intelligence has you processing the world around you very quickly.”
Surprise registered itself in the flawless beauty of her face, followed by something he could only call delight. “Since that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, I’ll consider tossing you a bone. If you answer me one question.”
“Shoot.”
“I can’t believe you care that much about what I eat. So what’s your question really about?”
On some level his question was about the food, but not entirely. “I’ve noticed your inhuman ability to turn down sugar and it’s made me curious.”
“Like I said. A lot is expected of me and I don’t need to eat bad food anyway.” She swirled a piece of pita in her hummus before glancing up. “So what else has you curious?”
“I asked the question because it’s tied to a bigger issue in my mind.”
When she said nothing, he pushed on. “Why do you care what anyone else thinks?”
“My mother cares, and that’s all that matters.”
“But she’s not here.”
“Oh, that’s right. She’s a killer on the run you’re determined to catch.”
He laid a hand over hers. “That’s not my wish. Not by a long shot.”
A sharp sigh whistled through her lips before she laid her food back on the plate. It didn’t escape Derek’s notice that she kept her other hand beneath his.
“She didn’t do it.” Again, that sense of something fierce lay beneath her tones, quivering in the hard set of her slim shoulders. “She didn’t kill my father.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Walk me through why.”
Landry had proved herself to be an outstanding partner while they were at the FBI office, providing him with names and dates, various family connections and a history of the Adair lineage, all the way back to her great-grandparents.
She’d even added in a few anecdotes about Kate that had him laughing and seeing his former boss and mentor in an entirely different light.