Borderline

by Chase, T. A.

  As one of the techs lifted the victim’s arm, it slipped from her hand to drop with an audible thud on the table where the woman had been displayed.

  “Show some respect,” Mac barked.

  The tech’s expression questioned his order.

  Tanner spoke up, giving the woman a request that made sense to her. “Please be more careful, and mark any postmortem bruising.”

  Mac blinked like he’d forgotten Tanner was there. The ranger nodded at him before approaching the medical examiner. Tanner moved closer as well.

  “What you got for me, Doc?”

  The ME grunted. “I put time of death about twelve hours ago.”

  “Just like the others,” Mac muttered.

  “It appears so. I’ll be able to tell you more after the autopsy.” The ME stared at Mac. “You finished? Can I take her?”

  Mac looked at Tanner, who nodded. The crime photographer had been thorough, and Tanner figured he’d have enough different angles to recreate the scene if necessary.

  A body bag was brought in, and Mac hovered like he was afraid the techs would drop her. Tanner wanted to make a comment about the woman being dead. She wouldn’t know if they dropped her. With the way Mac acted, Tanner figured the detective wouldn’t find it funny.

  Tanner respected death, but he didn’t see the point of acting like the dead could hear or feel. Whatever sort of soul bodies housed disappeared the minute hearts stopped beating.

  “Make sure everything’s bagged and logged in as evidence.” Mac stalked from the room.

  Tanner looked over his shoulder as he left. They were settling the body onto the gurney. Something on her chest above her left breast caught his eye. The black bag covered most of it, and he made a mental note to check it out on the photos when he got them.

  “Who called this in, Sorensterm?” Mac asked the other ranger.

  “Anonymous tip. More than likely some squatter or homeless person found her and called it in. Maybe they thought they’d get a reward or something.” Sorensterm shrugged.

  “Another anonymous tip.”

  “The other bodies were found the same way?” Tanner inquired, seeing an upsetting and long afternoon in his future, getting caught up on the case.

  “Yes. Each coming twelve hours after the girl was killed. Who are you?” Sorensterm eyed him.

  “Special Agent Tanner Wallace. I’m a profiler with the Behavioral Science Unit, but I’m assigned to the Houston branch of the bureau.” He didn’t offer his hand. The cold look in Sorensterm’s gaze told him the man wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

  “Jasper Sorensterm, detective, Texas Rangers. I occasionally work cases with Guzman.” The man’s grim expression got even darker as the gurney rolled by. “So Captain Billingsley decided to bring in the big guns.”

  Mac shook his head but didn’t say anything, not taking his gaze off the black bag being loaded into the truck.

  “What I believe is your captain decided to get a second opinion—or profile—on your killer. To see how accurate the first one was. As far as my boss is concerned, we’ll offer assistance, but this is your show,” Tanner interjected.

  “Awfully nice of you.” Sorensterm didn’t look convinced.

  Tanner shrugged. He didn’t really care whether Sorensterm believed him or not. He didn’t play office politics, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to play interagency games either. He would do his job as Sam directed him and pray they caught the bad guy before the bastard killed again.

  “Hey, Mac, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Snap to set up our next poker game. You hear from him today?” Sorensterm changed the subject.

  The mention of a regular poker game surprised Tanner. There didn’t seem to be any love between Sorensterm and Mac. The men managed to keep their dislike for each other hidden, but Tanner was trained to pick up on the subtle things.

  “Saw him at the Federal Building. He and his team were heading out to pick up Victor Delarosa.”

  Sorensterm froze in surprise, and Tanner barely suppressed his own shock at the mention of Delarosa.

  “You’re not serious?”

  Mac rolled his eyes. “Do you really think this time is going to be any different than the last dozen times they’ve gone before? No matter how good the tip is, Delarosa won’t be there. Guy has an intel network rivaling the CIA. He’s always twelve steps ahead of them.”

  Tanner shifted slightly. Any talk about Delarosa made him nervous.

  Mac suddenly seemed to remember Tanner was there. “Tanner, you’re welcome to canvas the area with us, or you can go back to your office and start looking at the photos. I can catch you up on the other killings later.”

  As much as he wanted to stay with Mac, he wasn’t really needed. “I’ll go back then. Call me when you have time to talk.”

  He tipped his head to both men before strolling to his car. He felt someone’s gaze on him and hoped it was Mac. The Texas Ranger was as tall as Tanner, and their builds were similar, but where Tanner got his muscles from working out, he had a feeling Mac was very active, playing sports and other activities.

  Mac’s dark brown hair was cut ruthlessly short. His odd golden hazel eyes were cool and observant, yet Tanner wouldn’t have been surprised to find out the man hid a passionate nature under his cold exterior.

  After he started his car, he risked looking back. Sorensterm had disappeared, but Mac stood there, watching the car intently. Tanner lifted a hand, and Mac responded by touching his fingers to his hat brim.

  “Whew, Tanner, my boy. I do believe you’re in over your head,” he muttered as he drove away.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, he dug out his personal cell phone and punched in a number.

  “No worries.” The deep voice answering the phone told him.

  “Thank you.” He hung up, tossing the phone on the passenger seat next to him. It was stupid to call, because he risked everything by doing so, but he needed to know. At times the worry kept him up at night, and he hated it.

  He arrived back at the offices just in time to watch the DEA agents return.

  “No luck?” He stepped onto the elevator with a large African American agent.

  “No.” The man shook his head and smiled weakly. “Never thought he’d be there. Told my boss we needed to get reliable proof before we rallied the troops. No one listens to me.”

  “Sorry to hear it didn’t work.”

  “No big deal. We’re still cutting into his supply chain and his money. Only be a matter of time before we trip him up.”

  The DEA agent got off on his floor, and Tanner rode up one more before stepping off.

  “Agent Wallace, Special Agent MacLaughlin would like to see you ASAP,” the receptionist said as he walked by.

  “Thanks, Susie.”

  He wandered down the hallway to Sam’s office. He knocked and waited for the gruff “come in” before entering.

  “Susie said you wanted to see me.”

  “Yes. Sit.” Sam pointed to a chair. “I wanted to talk to you about this serial killer case.”

  “Okay.” He found it best to let Sam do most of the talking.

  “I want you to stay on top of things with that detective. Make sure he keeps you in the loop as much as possible.”

  “I thought we weren’t taking over the case.” Tanner frowned.

  “We’re not at the moment, but if the time comes for us to step in and take the lead, I don’t want there to be any lag time while we’re getting up to speed.” Sam exhaled loudly. “This is a bad case. One of the worst I’ve seen. The insane asshole butchers them, Tanner. He tortures and slowly lets them bleed to death from their wounds.”

  “And displays them in a macabre five-pointed-star position.”

  “Do you think he’s a devil worshipper?” Caution colored Sam’s voice.

  Tanner knew his boss didn’t want to plant suggestions in his head, but Tanner’s mind had already gone there.

  “It’s one possibility. I’ll have to learn more abou
t the victims. There’s a reason why he’s picking the women he takes.”

  “Of course.” Sam waved his beefy hand at the door. “Copies of all the files were delivered while you were out. Start going through them. Hopefully you’ll find something to help.”

  Tanner stood. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  Before heading to his office, Tanner detoured to the break room, where he made some tea. He’d drunk so much coffee when he started at the bureau, he’d ruined his stomach. Now he couldn’t drink it, which was for the best. The caffeine wasn’t good for him. Cup of decaf tea in hand, he returned to his office to find two boxes on the small table sharing space with his desk.

  “Should’ve brewed more tea,” he said aloud and set his mug down.

  He hung up his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. Time to do his job, no matter the cost to his soul.

  Chapter Two

  Mac stared out the window of his apartment at the dog park it overlooked. He wasn’t seeing the animals or their owners. Memories of Marissa raced through his head. He’d only lived with her family for six months before Mr. Leviston got transferred out of California and Mac got sent back into the system.

  When he turned sixteen, he ran away from his foster home and lived on the streets until José Guzman took him in. The elderly Hispanic man owned a grocery store, and for the first time since the Levistons, Mac understood what family meant. José had adopted him and helped him make something of himself.

  Mac had joined the California State Police fresh out of the academy. After José decided to return to Texas, Mac applied and was accepted by the Texas Rangers. It was only by a twist of fate he’d run into Marissa at a downtown bar and they’d renewed their friendship.

  Now that was over, and he had to find a way to break it to her parents. He should be chasing down leads and trying to identify Marissa’s killer, but for tonight he was going to take the time to remember her the way she had been and not how that bastard had left her.

  As he took another sip of scotch, his doorbell rang. He frowned while making his unsteady way to the door. He’d been drinking since he got home. Of course he’d be no good to anyone if they got another murder.

  “Who is it?”

  “Tanner Wallace.” The voice drifted through the barrier between them.

  Fuck. What was the agent doing there? Mac had figured he wouldn’t see the guy until the morning. Him showing up when Mac was half-drunk wasn’t a good sign. It definitely wouldn’t inspire confidence in his professionalism. He rested his forehead against the wall and sighed.

  “Are you okay?”

  How did Tanner know Mac wasn’t handling this latest murder well? Hell, for all Tanner knew, this was how Mac reacted to all his cases. He could be an alcoholic, just marking his days until he could retire. Though the idea didn’t make any sense, since at thirty-one, Mac had another ten or fifteen years before he called it quits.

  He unlocked the door and strolled back to his spot by the window, stopping to refill his glass on the way. Footsteps informed him Tanner had come into the living room.

  “Who was she?”

  Tanner’s soft question surprised Mac, and he whirled, sloshing the liquor over his hand.

  “Who was who?” He tried to sound confused.

  “This last victim. You know her.” Tanner shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it over the back of the couch.

  Mac devoured the man with his gaze, trying not to drool at the lust-inducing sight Tanner made. The agent wore faded jeans, worn thin in spots, that fit him like a glove. A long-sleeved dark blue Henley graced Tanner’s upper half, showing off a well-muscled chest and a flat stomach.

  “No one,” Mac muttered, keeping up his facade.

  Tanner walked up to him and cradled his face. Shock held Mac still. No one touched him without his permission. Yet he had no inclination to yell at Tanner or back away from him.

  “I promise to keep your secret, Mac, because God knows, I have my own. It might make you feel better to tell someone about her.” Tanner glanced at the glass in Mac’s hand. “Instead of drinking your problems into oblivion.”

  If he were the kind of man who didn’t take responsibility for his actions, he’d blame what he did next on the alcohol. Mac set his glass down on the coffee table and rested his hands on Tanner’s hips. He leaned forward and brought their lips together.

  Tanner gasped, and Mac took advantage, sweeping his tongue inside Tanner’s mouth, tasting the flavors. Spicy, like Tanner had had Tex-Mex and a beer for dinner. There was a unique flavor that had to be all Tanner. They moaned and stepped closer until their bodies pressed tightly together, chest to chest, knee to knee, and groin to groin.

  In the back of his alcohol-addled mind, Mac knew what they were doing wasn’t smart, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He tugged on the hem of Tanner’s shirt, lifting it so he could run his hands over Tanner’s warm, smooth skin. Tonight he wanted to fuck and reinforce the fact that he still lived. It was the emotion that often swept over him when catching a murder case. If it had been a different victim, he probably would have gone out to one of the bars and picked a guy up. Not the safest thing to do, but he didn’t care. He just wanted a body under him and around him.

  Tanner eased back, breaking the kiss. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  Mac grabbed the man’s hand and dragged him down the hallway. He didn’t speak, not wanting to break the mood. No coming to their senses until after they fucked. They could regret it in the aftermath.

  “You’re such a playboy.” Marissa’s voice danced through his head, and Mac skidded to a halt without warning. Tanner slammed into his back with a grunt.

  “What’s wrong?” Tanner tightened his grip on Mac’s hand.

  “We can’t do this.” Mac turned to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

  Tanner laughed softly. “It might give me blue balls, but I think I can deal with it. You’re trying to reaffirm that you’re alive. Happens to those of us around death all the time. Are you the type to go to the bars and pick up a one-night stand?”

  Mac dipped his head in embarrassment. Maybe his age was catching up to him, or maybe after reconnecting with Marissa, he’d found he wanted more than quick, anonymous sex.

  He closed his eyes against the tears. Marissa, so beautiful and alive the last time he’d seen her. Teasing him about his revolving bedroom door. No more laughter. No more late-night phone calls to talk about her day. Mac bit his lip to keep from sobbing. The alcohol hadn’t been a good idea. His control was slipping, and he didn’t want Tanner to see him weak and emotional.

  “Why didn’t you do that tonight?” Tanner led him back down the hall to the living room and pushed him onto the couch.

  He laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Because I couldn’t face all those people and the fact that they’re still fucking alive, and those five women are dead.”

  “Okay.” Tanner didn’t join him on the couch. The agent sat in the chair opposite Mac. “But you’ve done it before with other homicides. Why not this one? What makes this one different?”

  No way was he going to spill his guts to Tanner. It didn’t matter that not five minutes ago he’d been ready to fuck Tanner’s brains out. He didn’t know Tanner and didn’t trust him not to tell Billingsley that Mac knew one of the victims.

  “Just tired is all. It’s been a long four months, always anticipating another murder. Never knowing when it’ll happen. Not being able to tell women to be safe because we don’t know anything about the killer except that he likes knives.” Mac clenched his hands to get them to stop trembling.

  Silence built in the room until he couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting his head, he peeked through his eyelashes to find Tanner staring at him. The agent had pressed his fingertips together and rested them on his chin, just like a psychologist Mac had gone to see once had done. Christ, Tanner was psychoanalyzing him now.

  Mac heard the rustle of fabric and knew Tanner was getting comfor
table. Shit, now they were having a heart-to-heart. Sliding, he ended up on his side, meeting Tanner’s amused gaze.

  “Is it time for me to go?”

  “I don’t care. I’ll probably fall asleep right here, but if you want to chat until I do, I’m game. Since my adopted father’s funeral, I’ve fucked every willing man I could find. Had to make up for lost time, I guess.” He rubbed his cheek against the smooth suede of the couch. “Not proud of it, but not going to lie about it either.”

  Tanner’s smile was gentle and understanding in a way. “I get that.”

  The agent seemed about to say something else when his phone rang. Mac watched as Tanner tugged it out of his pocket and checked the number.

  “I have to go.”

  Disappointment swept through Mac. He gave himself a mental slap. First he complained about having a late-night chat with the man. Now he was pissed because Tanner had to go.

  “Got a boyfriend checking up on you?”

  Tanner paused in the process of tucking in his shirt. He shot Mac an irritated glance. “Do you really think I’d kiss you if I had a boyfriend?”

  Mac lifted his shoulder a little. “Probably not. You don’t seem like the cheating kind.”

  “Not even remotely.” Tanner crouched next to the couch and brushed his hand over Mac’s hair. “Try not to fall asleep on the couch. It doesn’t look that comfortable. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mac closed his eyes and accepted the kiss Tanner placed on his brow. He waited until the door shut behind Tanner before getting off the couch and staggering over to lock the door. After making sure the cap was back on the scotch, Mac made his way to the bathroom, where he took a hot shower.

  He dried off and hung up the towel. Wandering back to his bedroom, he thought about how the night could have ended differently. Instead of sleeping alone, he could have wrapped around Tanner, and maybe then the nightmares wouldn’t haunt him.

  Mac slipped under the blankets and curled up with one of his pillows. Not the same as a hot, hard body, but he’d learned to deal with the loneliness. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to relax enough to fall to sleep, though he knew he wouldn’t get a full night of rest…