by Mary Stone
That the Russians would kill one of their own to keep the secret?
That was bullshit.
Noah could have sworn he saw Autumn in the FBI building not long before their briefing, but he wrote off the sighting as a lack of caffeine. After he tucked his work computer into a black bag and double-checked his desk for any essentials he might have forgotten, he started off for the elevator.
Honestly, he was glad for the unexpected trip to Baltimore. The more distance he put between him and Eric Dalton, the better. Even just knowing the man was in the same city was enough to dampen his mood.
As he neared the end of the hallway, a familiar redhead rounded the corner. Her charcoal pencil skirt was belted at her waist, and the hem ended at her knees. Though her semi-sheer button-down shirt was unadorned white, a turquoise pendant rested at her throat while a matching bracelet adorned her wrist. The last time Noah had seen Autumn, she’d been clad in long-sleeved flannel, a band t-shirt, well-worn jeans, and flip-flops.
He felt like she had just walked off the set of one of those reality shows where the hosts helped a person pick out a new wardrobe. From 1990s grunge rocker to well-dressed professional, the transformation was striking. That was why he hadn’t recognized her from a distance. When he thought about Autumn Trent, he pictured a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and ripped jeans, not five-inch designer heels and a pencil skirt.
Shouldering the laptop bag, he pulled himself back to reality. “Autumn? What’re you doing here?”
She jerked around to face him with a start.
Reflexively, he held up both hands as if to show he was unarmed. “Whoa, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
With a sigh, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ve been jumpy lately. Seems like I can’t come across someone I know without jumping three feet in the damn air.”
He chuckled. “Must be something in the water. I think I scared the crap out of Winter two different times yesterday.” He paused to gesture to the visitor’s badge around her neck. “What brings you to the FBI office, anyway?”
A flicker of something that resembled nervousness flitted behind her green eyes. “Nothing, I’m just…helping Aiden Parrish with something.”
The succinct response was curious, and her demeanor only invited more questions.
“Helping Parrish with what?” He kept his eyes on her. Her heels narrowed the gap in their height to a mere three or four inches, but he took full advantage as he stood in front of her.
Her green eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I can tell you?”
If he hadn’t been sure she was hiding something before, he was certain now. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he stepped into the conference room at their side and beckoned her to follow.
As she rolled her eyes, her heels clacked against the tiled floor before the sound was muffled by the carpeting of the shadowy room. She eased the door closed behind herself, but she didn’t let the latch click into place.
Crossing both arms over her white blouse, she fixed him with an unimpressed stare. “Well? You can quit looking at me like I’ve got two heads any ole day now.”
“Winter’s been acting weird lately.” He made the statement before he’d even stopped to consider the words. “And now you’re here on some secret mission for Parrish. You see why I’m a little suspicious, don’t you?”
For the second time in the last minute, she rolled her eyes. Beneath the casual dismissal, the same glimmer of uneasiness remained.
“Why are you here, Autumn?” He made his inquiry as pointed as he could manage without sounding outright hostile.
Her inner debate continued as she finally met his intense stare.
“Does it have something to do with why Winter’s been acting weird?” His voice had sharpened, but he didn’t pause to consider the fact that he was effectively interrogating his friend. Not just his friend, but a forensic psychologist. If she wanted to flip the heated line of questioning around to her advantage, he didn’t doubt she could.
“What the hell is this?” The question was like the strike of a venomous snake. “Did you pull me into a conference room so you can interrogate me to find out if something’s going on with Winter? Is that what this is?”
He held his ground, though he wasn’t sure standing in place was a wise move when he’d cornered a viper. Based on the petulance in her eyes, he had hit a nerve. Not to mention, she’d all but jumped out of her skin when he called her name in the hall.
Autumn was on edge. Winter was on edge. What in the fresh hell was going on around here? He felt like there was some in-depth conspiracy afoot, and he was the only person in the damn building who didn’t know the truth.
Grating his teeth together, Noah forced himself to speak more calmly. “It’s just us here right now, and all I’m doing is connecting a few dots.” He paused to gesture from himself to her and back. “This, what you’re doing right here, it’s telling me a hell of a lot more than you think. It’s telling me that there is something going on. You could’ve just as easily said there wasn’t, but instead, you’re getting pissed.”
With a swift step forward, she jabbed a finger in his chest. The motion was so forceful, he was sure he’d have a bruise.
“Maybe I’m pissed because I don’t want to fucking lie to you!”
The forceful response seemed to take all the air out of the small room.
Wide-eyed, all he could do was gape at her in response. As soon as he opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off with a sharp wave.
“No. I’m done with this. We aren’t having this conversation. If you want to know what’s going on with Winter, ask Winter, not me. I told you why I’m here, and you can take it or leave it. But this.” She pointed vehemently to the ground between them. “Right now, this is done.”
Before he could react in one way or another, she flung open the glass and metal door and brushed past him into the hall. By the time she disappeared around the corner, he still hadn’t managed to form a comprehensive response.
Winter wanted to kick down the door and barrel into the safe house to berate Eric Dalton for his stupidity, but she swallowed the rage as Agent Miguel Vasquez opened the front door and waved her inside.
She grunted out a thank-you before she made her way across the living room and into the modest kitchen.
In the midst of a sip from his morning coffee, Eric froze in place as soon as he spotted her.
“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” She kept her voice cool and crisp but added enough venom to convey to him that her intent was anything but friendly.
As he set his mug atop the dining room table, he nodded. “Good morning. I…I’m sorry, but I can’t remember your name.”
“Agent Black,” she said from between clenched teeth. “I just thought I’d stop by to give you an update. Your wife and your son are safe. A couple officers with the Baltimore PD picked them up yesterday and took them to a safe house. But, from the sounds of it, your wife has quite a few questions for you.”
A crestfallen look passed behind his eyes as he nodded again. “I can imagine. She’s all right, though? What about Natalie and…and Jon?”
Winter crossed her arms over her chest. “You said yourself that the Russians told you they shot him, right?”
For the third time, he nodded.
“Well, Natalie wasn’t at home. And, obviously, neither was her husband. Whoever took them didn’t leave a trace.” She let the bleak statement hang in the air as she fixed Eric with an intent stare.
His eyes flicked up to hers, and his mouth opened and closed several times before he spoke. “What else?”
She pursed her lips and bit back a knee-jerk insult. “There was a federal agent in Baltimore who was looking into your…situation.”
As the unmistakable spark of anxiety flickered to life in his visage, she was tempted to let him stew for a solid twenty minutes. But she had a flight to catch.
The shadows along Eric’s throat shift
ed as he swallowed.
“What did they find?” There was an unmistakable waver in his voice.
“I don’t know.” Each word Winter spoke was laden with venom. “He’s dead.”
Eric’s eyes snapped open wide. “What? Dead? How?”
“We aren’t sure,” she lied. “But we think that he was close to something that the Russians didn’t want him to know. Mr. Dalton, if you’ve got anything you’re hiding from us, you might want to reconsider.”
He scratched at the beard, which had started looking remarkably scraggly. “No, I—”
She waved away his protest. “Save it. You haven’t exactly been upfront with us since you showed up on our doorstep a few days ago, you know that? First, it was the bullshit about your life insurance, and now this whole thing about how you were going to start laundering money for the Russian mob.”
“It’s—”
“Like I said.” Winter narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care. Save your defensive horse shit for someone who does. I’m just here to tell you that, whatever was involved with this situation to begin with, whatever stakes you thought you were facing, they’ve just gotten a hell of a lot higher. A federal agent is dead. A woman lost her husband, and a child lost her father.”
When she paused this time, he didn’t bother to try to interject.
“If you’re hiding something, I want you to keep that in mind. Because when we find out whatever it is you’re hiding, and we will find out, I will personally bury you underneath any and every criminal charge I can even conceive of. If I can petition the governor to come up with a new law just to make sure you’re fucked for the rest of your life, I’ll do it. I don’t expect anything from you right now, but this is your last warning.”
Without bothering to wait for a reply, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
Winter had never met Drew Hansford, but the haunted look on Bree’s face was unlike any expression she’d seen the woman wear in all the time she’d known her.
And then, there was Noah.
Ever since Eric’s arrival, a black cloud had followed Noah around to block out the brightness to which she’d grown accustomed.
In the midst of her own mental turmoil over the realization that Douglas Kilroy—the driving force behind her entire damn career, her entire life—was gone, she had to be the strong one.
Compared to the loss of a good friend or the reappearance of a ghost from the past, she didn’t think her problems were even worthy of mention on most days.
So, she did what she’d always done.
She shoved the festering despondency to the back of her mind where she could ignore it, and she masked any semblance of sadness with anger.
She could hardly imagine the lecture she’d receive from Autumn if she gave voice to her thoughts in the woman’s—a freaking psychologist’s—presence.
If Winter shook Autumn’s hand right now, there was a real possibility that the other woman would suplex her into the damn floor. They had both watched professional wrestling in their younger years, and Autumn was just as fit as any agent at the FBI. Winter didn’t doubt she was physically capable of suplexing another adult human being.
The image of the slender redhead wrapping her arms around another person to toss them backward onto a rug brought a much-needed smile to Winter’s lips as she turned the key over in the ignition of her tried and true Civic.
She’d hardly seen Autumn since Eric Dalton had arrived in Richmond. Now, for the remainder of the investigation, she’d likely bounce back and forth between Baltimore and Richmond as the two offices combined their efforts to track down the murderer of one of their own.
As she shifted the car into reverse, Winter bit back a sigh.
Eric Dalton might be a dipshit, but his daughter and her husband had been kidnapped. Winter had felt Natalie’s fear when she’d walked through the house.
This wasn’t about Eric Dalton’s stupidity, not anymore. This was about finding Natalie and Jonathan. This was about making sure another friend didn’t don the same heartbroken expression that had crossed Bree Stafford’s face earlier in the day.
Once they found Natalie and Jonathan, then Winter could give in to her feud with Eric. Then she could make good on her promise.
Once Natalie and her husband were safe, she would bury Eric Dalton.
18
Though the exterior of the Baltimore FBI office couldn’t have looked more different from the Richmond office, the floor of the spacious building that housed the Violent Crimes Division was remarkably similar.
Noah glanced over to the cluster of cubicles as he and Winter followed the Special Agent in Charge, Marie Judd, to a briefing room at the end of the hall. If the office décor wasn’t different—the agents in Baltimore were clearly more festive than their Virginian counterparts—he could have tricked himself into thinking he was in Richmond.
His and Winter’s flight to Baltimore had been punctuated by a grand total of three sentences.
After his heated conversation with Autumn, his thoughts had spiraled down into a vortex of worst-case scenarios.
The short trip was the closest they had gotten to being alone with one another since she had surprised him with an impassioned kiss after Eric’s failed attempt to bond. If he was honest with himself, he still wasn’t sure what to make of the show of affection.
Was that the reason for her odd behavior over the past couple days? Had she realized that she made a mistake, and now she was looking for a way to fix it without ruining their friendship?
He wanted to let himself believe it meant she held the same feelings for him that he’d long ago realized he had for her. But whenever he felt himself slip into the comforting lull, he was reminded of the end of the Kilroy investigation.
Specifically of the three months when she hadn’t so much as sent him a text message.
As a friend, Winter occupied a vital part of his heart. He didn’t want to patronize her by repeatedly asking if she was sure she knew what she was doing, but he wanted her to be sure.
He wanted her to feel as certain as he did.
At first, he’d been certain that the kiss was the source of all the oddities he’d noticed, but if Winter’s conflicting feelings were the cause of her edginess, then why in the hell had Autumn been so secretive about the reason she was at the Richmond field office?
Though he had no idea what she was keeping from him, he was certain that Autumn was keeping a secret. No, not just any secret. Winter’s secret. And knowing that made him feel like they were in the midst of the Kilroy investigation all over again.
Swallowing against a sudden tightness in his throat, Noah forced his thoughts back to the present. Back to the highly renowned SAC in front of him and the brilliant, stunning woman at his side.
The woman who always seemed to have a secret.
Three people were seated at a rectangular table in the center of the room, two men and a woman. The white light of a laptop screen glinted off the woman’s glasses as she looked up to make note of their arrival.
All three wore grim expressions, though a portion of the darkness dissipated as the SAC led him and Winter into the space.
With a reassuring smile, Marie Judd waved Noah and Winter forward.
The SAC’s silver hoop earrings caught the glow of the overhead fluorescence as she eased the door closed behind them. Though no slivers of gray were present in her close-cropped black hair, her dark eyes glittered with the type of wisdom Noah would only expect to find in someone more than twenty years her senior.
SAC Judd was the first woman of color to attain the lofty title of Special Agent in Charge of the Baltimore office, and she was the second youngest SAC in Baltimore’s history.
According to Max’s accounts of the Maryland SAC, Marie Judd was on track to become a major authority within the bureau.
As she took a seat at Winter’s side, Marie folded her hands atop the table. “Thank you all for making it here. I know this meeting was a little la
st minute, but we’re here for two reasons. First,” she paused to gesture to the two men, “Agent Gibbs, Agent McClary, this is Special Agent Black, and that’s Special Agent Dalton. They’re our help from the Richmond field office.”
The older of the two men, Agent McClary, lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Dalton? Like Natalie Falkner, formerly Dalton?”
Noah gritted his teeth and fought against punching the damn desk. “Yeah, but I’m not here about her. We’re here because y’all are already stretched thin, and now you’ve got a fellow agent’s murder piled on top of it all.”
As the older man nodded, his countenance softened. “Of course. We appreciate it. I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. It’s just…it’s been a long day.”
Noah returned the nod. “No doubt. We’re here to help.”
Clearing her throat, Winter leaned forward in her chair. “One of our people, Agent Stafford, was really good friends with Agent Hansford. They go way back.”
Though slight, SAC Judd’s expression brightened at the mention of Bree. “I was still a field agent when Agent Stafford was in Baltimore. She’s a damn fine investigator. But that brings me to the second reason we’re all here. We have an update on the Natalie Falkner case. Naomi Clanahan is our lead forensics expert on the Falkner kidnappings and Agent Hansford’s murder.”
The woman at the end of the table nodded and offered a small smile to him and Winter. “Nice to meet you, Agents. I wish it was under better circumstances, but you know what Keith Richards says about getting what you want.”
In spite of the somber air, Noah almost let out a laugh at the silly reference.
“Anyway.” Naomi pushed a piece of auburn hair away from her forehead. “Yes, we’ve got an update about the Falkner kidnappings. Agent Black, you were at the scene, weren’t you?”
“I was,” Winter replied.
“Then I’d like to be the first to tell you, well done. We brought in her car and combed through it, and it looks like you were right.”