Cold Wicked Lies: A gripping romantic thriller that will have you hooked (Cold Justice - Crossfire Book 3)

by Toni Anderson

  “Once a week?” Charlotte mirrored.

  “Every Wednesday morning. He’s gonna wonder where I was this week.”

  So that explained why TJ was out there on the mountain.

  Kayla glanced anxiously over to the window. “Did it snow yet?” She sounded a little desperate. “TJ said he didn’t think I’d be able to hike up the mountain once the snows came. That it would be too deep and too dangerous.” Her lips downturned. “He doesn’t have a cell phone. He has an email address but…”

  But it wasn’t quite enough to satisfy the craving of an amorous teenage heart in the golden age of technology. The FBI already knew his email address. The tech people had hacked the server at the compound.

  “It hasn’t snowed yet. Threatens to every day but hasn’t delivered yet. What does Brenna think of TJ?” Charlotte asked.

  Kayla lay back against the pillows, tiredness pinching the corners of her eyes.

  “Brenna hasn’t met him properly, but she thinks I’m stupid to waste my time hanging around here for a guy. It’s not like that though. He’s not like that.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Like what?”

  “He’s not a user.” Kayla inhaled sharply. “Brenna, well she has terrible taste in guys and thinks all men suck. But I keep saying to her that not everyone is like Simon.”

  “Simon?”

  “Her most recent ex-boyfriend.” Kayla hunched her shoulders. “He’s an abusive asshole. And then there’s this one guy in camp who’s sniffing after her. She thinks I haven’t noticed the way he flirts with her.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Alan Kennedy. Some professor.” Kayla’s expression became a little petulant.

  Funny. Charlotte had read Novak’s 302 and, from what he’d written, the professor had acted like he’d barely known the two women.

  “Don’t tell her I was talking about her. God, why is the FBI interested in Brenna’s crappy love life?”

  “We all make mistakes when it comes to our love life.” Again she felt Novak’s interest in her words.

  I’m not good with women, Charlotte.

  She tried to imagine Novak in a relationship. She couldn’t fit him into all the places in her life, like grocery shopping or long romantic walks while holding hands. But she could visualize him in terms of non-stop sexual escapades. Her cheeks heated. Obviously, she suffered from an overactive imagination, which was apparently the side product of a starvation diet.

  Again, she pushed the thoughts away. “Did you ever visit TJ’s home?”

  Kayla frowned, clearly uneasy now. “I saw it from a distance. Crazy looking bunker in the middle of nowhere. I never went inside. TJ said his father wouldn’t approve of him seeing me. Why do you ask?” Kayla’s lips wobbled again.

  The fact she was emotionally vulnerable made Charlotte feel like crap, but she pressed on. She had a job to do. “What are you and TJ planning to do once the snow falls?”

  Kayla looked miserable. “He talked about coming with us once or twice.”

  Charlotte forced a smile. “How’d Brenna feel about that?”

  Kayla frowned.

  Charlotte inwardly winced. She’d used past tense, but maybe Kayla wouldn’t pick up on the difference or she’d interpret it more innocently.

  “I doubt he’ll do it.”

  “If he did?”

  Kayla shrugged. “I didn’t bring it up with her yet. She won’t like it. She likes it being the two of us when we travel.” She stared down at her covered knees. “She was raped once. No one else believed her except me. It was at a party she shouldn’t have even been at and someone slipped something into her drink.” Kayla wiped a tear that escaped. “Bunch of guys took turns with her and posted it online. Brenna was devastated. Girls called her a slut. Boys called her a whore. She dropped out of school and then started a cycle of relationships with shitty guys like Simon. Leaving Pennsylvania was the best thing we ever did, but I don’t think she likes the idea of me being with anyone, you know?”

  “She’s protective of you.” Charlotte nodded as a sense of grief swept over her. Brenna Longie had suffered some hard knocks in her life. Setbacks and situations that would have driven many to self-medicate on drink and drugs as well as make other poor choices. The fact she’d never caught a break… it was heart-wrenching.

  Had Brenna fought with TJ about Kayla? Had Kayla’s boyfriend killed her best friend?

  “Where’s Brenna? Is she still at the campsite?” Kayla moved as if to climb out of bed. “I’m feeling a lot better now. Maybe someone could give me a ride back?”

  She was talking fast as if her brain had finally recognized something seriously bad must have happened. Like she said, the FBI wasn’t interested in people’s love lives, not if they were adults above the age of consent.

  Charlotte took Kayla’s hand. “The campsite has been dismantled, and most people have left. I’m afraid I have something terrible to tell you.”

  There was no easy way to say this. No gentle easing into the subject matter. “Brenna died.”

  Kayla pulled back her hand as if she’d been bitten. Her eyes filled. “I don’t understand. How could she die? Did she get sick too?”

  Her eyes shot between Charlotte and Novak. He stood.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No. She was found dead on Eagle Mountain not far from where TJ lives.”

  Kayla’s mouth curved in grief. “She can’t be dead. What did she die of?”

  It would have been so much easier to tell Kayla that Brenna had suffered a heart attack or been attacked by a cougar.

  “The Medical Examiner believes Brenna suffered some sort of blunt force trauma to the skull.”

  Charlotte watched Kayla’s expression crumple. A noise started emitting from her throat. A deep keening sound that immersed Charlotte straight into the other girl’s wretched grief.

  “I am so sorry, Kayla. I am so very sorry.” She forced her emotion to the side as she tried to comfort the other woman, but Kayla turned away from her.

  “Leave me alone. Leave me alone!”

  Charlotte nodded. She understood. This was not the time to prod at the open wound or ask if Kayla thought TJ was capable of killing her friend.

  “I’m so very sorry for your loss. If you want to talk to me or Novak,” she caught the way his eyes widened in alarm, “tell the agent at the door. We’ll come straight away.”

  Kayla turned away from them, curled on her side into a ball. Sobs shook her small frame.

  Charlotte walked out of the room and closed her eyes.

  “I’ll go track down the guard. Tell him we’re done here,” Novak said quietly.

  Charlotte nodded, bracing a hand against the wall as he walked away. She straightened when she heard people return.

  “Well, that sucked,” Novak muttered as she led the way back to McKenzie.

  Charlotte’s eyes suddenly flooded with tears, and she needed a moment to find her usual professionalism. As they passed their room, she took the opportunity to reach for the door handle and duck inside. “I need to grab a charging cable for my phone. I’ll be right down.”

  She quickly shut the door and stood by the window looking out into the darkness. Sadness welled up. She heard the door open and close and forced herself to say as normally as possible, “You don’t need to wait. I’ll be right down.” She needed five minutes to get herself together. Five minutes alone so she could move on and do her job or whatever version of it McKenzie had settled on.

  A moment later, strong arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her against a strong male chest. A chin rested on her shoulder.

  His comforting her was like a hug for her soul. She wished he wasn’t here to witness her distress, but at least he wasn’t giving her hell. She squeezed his wrists in acknowledgment of the quiet solace he was offering. It helped.

  “I keep thinking about that poor girl who died. All the terrible things that she’d overcome to get here. All the horror. Only to die on the mountain.”

>   Novak’s arms tightened further.

  Emotions that had been building up for some time wanted to come unstoppered, but she couldn’t afford to break down. Usually she was better able to distance herself, but fatigue and the pressure were getting to her, the emotional toll of other people’s grief wearing away her mental barriers.

  Novak spun her slowly around until he was cradling her against his chest. “She deserved better.”

  Charlotte nodded. Life could be cruel and turn on a dime. She knew that better than most.

  She looked up at the dark shadows that coated Novak’s face. There was enough light under the crack beneath the door that she could make out his concerned expression.

  “You gonna be okay?” he asked gruffly. And even though he held her in his arms, he hadn’t crossed that line. He was giving her comfort and she knew if she pulled away, he would let her go.

  She didn’t want him to let her go.

  Life was too damn precarious not to take a risk now and then.

  She ran her palm against his sandpapery cheek. “I thought you said you weren’t good with women, Novak.”

  And then she kissed him. Giving him time to run, then nibbling his lips, drawing out his response. Telling him she was interested in him if he was interested in her. That, whatever this thing was between them, it wasn’t one-sided.

  * * *

  Novak knew that comforting Charlotte was probably not a good idea, but he had never imagined the danger would be from her kissing him. It was so unexpected but so welcome, he wanted to dive in so deep and fast she’d end up naked and against a wall with him inside her in twenty seconds flat.

  Instead, he closed his eyes and savored the touch of her lips against his. Held back for a few seconds to enjoy the sensation of being kissed. The soft drag of her lips catching his in tender supplication.

  There wasn’t a lot of tenderness in Novak’s life.

  Dedication, hard work, sweat, grit, blood and pain. No gentleness.

  Sensing she might be about to pull away, he finally allowed himself to kiss her back. He started in kind. Small sips of connection. A sensory exploration of the softness of her lips. Her hand slipped up into his hair, and he took that as permission for more.

  He angled his mouth across hers, and she opened willingly, tangling her tongue with his, absorbing him. He wished he could capture the feeling in a bottle and keep it with him forever. That silky volcanic heat. The sharp edge of teeth, the sweep of her tongue into his mouth.

  His pulse crackled along his veins. His hand found its way to her breast, molding the cotton of her shirt over the perfect handful of flesh. He reveled in the hard press of her nipple against his palm.

  Blood headed south, and his dick was so hard he was in danger of passing out. She brushed against him and holy shit, that felt better than the past five years of his sex life.

  He broke away, panting.

  He was in big trouble here.

  “Damn.” She shifted, pushing away from him.

  And here it came. The regret. The “what the hell were you doing” and “that was a mistake.”

  “We better go report to McKenzie before he comes crashing in here looking for us and finds me all over you.”

  “I was all over you too.” His voice was rough. It did that a lot around Charlotte. Like his base instincts upped the testosterone in his veins and thickened his vocal cords.

  She straightened her shirt. “I noticed.”

  What did that mean?

  She walked to the door, and he stood like a fool wondering if she was going to pretend like this never happened. Or maybe it didn’t mean that much to her. Hell, maybe she made out with all the guys she worked with. The thought tore through his mind with a burst of rage.

  Perhaps she was right about the jealousy thing…

  She stood near the door and opened it a crack, enough he could see her face. She kept her voice low. “It’s probably better if we don’t mention this to anyone.”

  He stiffened. “Who exactly do you think I’m going to tell?”

  She blinked, clearly surprised by his pissy attitude. “Right. I simply meant—”

  “Forget it. I know what you meant.” He turned away, ashamed at his surliness when she was always Miss Sunshine. But did she really think he was going to go running to the guys bragging he’d kissed the hot negotiator he’d been forced to partner up with?

  That wasn’t who he was.

  But she didn’t know that…

  She didn’t know that he’d started to have feelings for her. Feelings he knew she wouldn’t reciprocate because, at their core, they were both so fundamentally different. Feelings that would make working together damned uncomfortable for both of them if she found out about them. He would not make her uncomfortable, but he could maybe explain that he respected her. That he liked her.

  “Charlotte…”

  But the sound of the door catching told him it was already too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  TJ strode along the corridor and nodded as if nothing was wrong to one of the women who was heading down the stairs to deliver a tray of food to the surveillance room.

  “Hi, Tara. How you doing?”

  She smiled back at him, perhaps unaware he’d been confined to his room earlier.

  He kept walking purposefully.

  Malcolm had finagled one of the best rooms, not counting the Harrisons’ suite. The old man who’d stayed there before had died peacefully in his sleep not long after Malcolm arrived. Malcolm had claimed the space by virtue of being TJ’s mom’s brother, although she’d never been particularly fond of the guy.

  TJ didn’t hesitate. He inserted the master key into the lock, turned it and ducked inside and closed the door softly behind him. It was dark, so rather than put on the overhead light, he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and swept the beam around the room.

  The bed was empty so Malcolm was probably eating dinner.

  TJ started with the bedside table. There was a Bible. A glass of water with scum around the rim. In the cupboard he found a pile of well-worn porn magazines. Ew. TJ slammed the door closed and tried to stop his stomach from turning over by pressing down hard on his abdomen.

  He scanned the room. Headed to the modest gun cabinet. Inside was the usual array of rifles, shotguns, four pistols, boxes and boxes of various sized ammunition. His dad had set up a way for people to make their own lead shot, but Malcolm obviously preferred manufactured varieties. TJ checked the top shelf, but there was nothing.

  Shoot, TJ didn’t even know what he was looking for.

  He headed over to the small kitchenette that contained a microwave, small refrigerator, and sink. TJ looked in the fridge. Lots of beer but little else. In the freezer were some small plastic wrapped packages of white powder. TJ picked one up and twirled it in his fingers. Then he put it down fast, slamming the icebox closed. TJ didn’t know much about the outside world, but he knew those packages contained narcotics. If his dad discovered Malcolm had those drugs in his home, he would toss him out the front door, siege or no siege.

  TJ went through the few cupboards quickly, running his hand underneath the drawers and countertops the way he’d seen in spy movies.

  Nothing except a splinter in the middle of his index finger.

  His uncle had a table pushed against one wall serving as a desk. A laptop sat there, and TJ opened the lid, surprised when the screen flicked to life but disappointed it was password protected. TJ flipped the lid back down. He checked out the bathroom, including the cistern, but there wasn’t anything hidden there. He went back into the bedroom and scanned the area, but there was nothing he could see that would point to Malcolm being a killer. The sound of footsteps in the corridor alerted TJ to someone’s approach, and he desperately searched for somewhere to hide his six-foot-plus frame. He moved the bedcovers and saw there was enough space for him to squeeze beneath the bed. He’d scarcely shuffled under when the door opened, and the light flared on. Malcolm’s voice
echoed off the bare concrete walls.

  “Put a guard on the kitchen area if people can’t be trusted not to ration themselves. Make sure the little brats only take half portions.”

  Whoever Malcolm was talking to mumbled a response, and Malcolm slammed the door shut on him. TJ did a quick check on his body parts to make sure his feet weren’t sticking out the end. They weren’t. Dust made his nose tingle, and he concentrated on not sneezing.

  Malcolm was bitching to himself but not loud enough for TJ to make out what he was saying. TJ traced the man’s position using sound as the bed covers hung over the side of the bed, shielding him from view.

  He heard the fridge door slam and a tapping noise followed by two hard snorts and a long sniff.

  The drugs.

  TJ had had no idea Malcolm was an addict. Where’d he get his supply? No wonder he was desperate to end this siege with the authorities. What happened once the asshole ran out? What happened if he was detained?

  Malcolm threw himself down on the bed, and TJ had to turn his face to the side to stop his nose getting broken. He blinked. An expensive camera lay under the bed.

  Malcolm did not strike him as an artistic type. Not even a little bit.

  The man above him shifted, and TJ said a silent prayer that the guy didn’t pull out a magazine and jack off. It was one thing to know he did it, another entirely to be an unwitting witness.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Can’t a man get a few hours’ sleep around here?” Malcolm yelled.

  “Sorry, boss.”

  Boss?

  “One of the generators isn’t working properly. I tried to fix it…”

  Malcolm hauled himself off the bed. “Don’t put your filthy maws on it!”

  One thing his uncle was good at was repairing anything mechanical. “I’m coming.”

  The man broke wind and then crossed to the bathroom, and TJ heard him taking a piss. The door opened, the overhead light flicked off, and the door closed. TJ breathed out a sigh of relief. He counted to ten then wriggled out from beneath the bed. At the last moment, he grabbed hold of the camera strap and dragged it toward him. As he did so, something glinted in the beam of his flashlight.