Driven

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She warmed from her pinkie toe to her hairline. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I believe I told you your thigh tasted like heaven the other night.”

  More heat slid into her face and her abdomen did that jumpy thing it only did for him. It hadn’t been her thigh he’d been talking about. Him in a flirty, playful mood was too much to deal with. Just his scent was speeding up her heart rate. Male and spicy and yeah, sexy. “Regardless, we’re going to starve to death if we don’t get some takeout.”

  Several cars rumbled up the road.

  “Oh, thank God,” Angus mumbled, waving the smoke out the window with a ripped kitchen towel. “Hopefully they brought food.”

  Nari perked up. “Is Pippa coming?”

  “Yeah,” Angus said, tossing the towel onto the counter and turning toward the door.

  “Do you think she baked something?” Nari whispered, hope filling her. She was starving.

  Angus licked his lips. “She bakes and cooks for fun.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

  Neither did Nari, but she sure enjoyed it.

  Wolfe was the first through the door, with Dana right behind him. The massive soldier balanced three trays of whipped-cream-topped lattes. “I got extra sprinkles for everyone because it’s gonna be a long day.” He reached the kitchen and set them down on the counter. “What’s burning?” His brown eyes scouted the entire area.

  “Nari can’t cook,” Angus said, reaching for a latte and eyeing the mountain of whipped cream.

  “Really?” Wolfe’s eyebrows rose. “There’s something you can’t do?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

  Nari shook her head. “Knock it off, you guys.” She also reached for a latte, though not sure her system could take that much of a sugar jolt. But hurting Wolfe’s feelings was off the table, so she’d just sip it slowly. The guy showed love by giving sugar, and so far nobody had been able to ask him to spare the toppings.

  Pippa came in next with several heavy-looking bags in her hands. “Was there a fire?” The tall brunette wore spectacular, cream-colored boots over her light jeans.

  “What did you bring?” Angus hustled over to help her with the bags.

  “Cinnamon rolls, a breakfast quiche that just needs a quick heating in the microwave, a couple of casseroles, and cookies.” Pippa angled her head toward the sink. “What’s that?”

  Angus reached in for a cinnamon roll, humming happily. Actually humming. “Nari burned the eggs,” he mumbled around a huge bite.

  Pippa’s blue eyes widened. “You can’t cook? You can do everything.”

  Nari shoved Angus aside to reach for a cinnamon roll. “Obviously not.” It smelled so good, she wanted to go outside and just push the entire thing into her mouth.

  Malcolm stomped inside carrying a folding table and a couple of chairs. “Thanks for the help, you guys.”

  “Oops.” Wolfe looked around and then walked over and shoved the sofa to the far wall. “There. I helped.” He nodded at the one cushioned chair left. “That’s Dana’s. In fact, you should sit down, Dana.”

  The blonde was studying the murder board. “I’m fine,” she said absently.

  “That’s Dana’s chair,” Wolfe reminded everyone. “She gets the comfortable one. We have folding chairs for everyone else. She’s pregnant, you know.”

  Dana sighed heavily.

  Nari smiled around a full mouth of cinnamon roll. “Pregnant women work in fields all around the world before giving birth, Wolfe.”

  “Not my woman,” the soldier returned easily, stalking out the front door, probably to fetch the rest of the chairs.

  Dana turned around and smiled. “Please ignore Neanderthal man. A blow to the head—several, really—might’ve returned him to the Dark Ages. We’re working on it.”

  Roscoe barked once.

  “Oh, you sweetie. I didn’t forget you.” Pippa dug into one bag and brought out a bag of homemade doggy treats. “I cooked the ones you like best.” She took out two and held them for Roscoe, who happily bounded forward.

  Wolfe returned, along with Jethro, each hefting a bunch of chairs. “I found a Brit outside,” Wolfe said.

  Jethro sniffed the air. “Did somebody burn cinnamon rolls?” His accent seemed thicker this morning.

  “No. They’re good.” Nari licked frosting from her finger. “Phenomenal, actually.” Who needed to know how to cook with Pippa around? The woman was a miracle. “If you weren’t engaged to Malcolm, I think I’d propose,” she mumbled.

  Pippa laughed and put the casseroles in the avocado-colored fridge. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

  Wolfe snagged a cinnamon roll. “Raider and Brigid had to report to work at DHS and HDD today but will join us tomorrow. We haven’t been able to find Millie Frost, but she was going on a walkabout, or so she told Dana. I didn’t call Serena in because she has classes today and I wasn’t sure if she was part of the team or not.”

  The brilliant woman taught game theory at the university and had helped the team with code breaking for a case earlier that summer.

  “Let’s hold off on Serena,” Angus said, taking another roll. “No need to put her in danger right now.”

  Wolfe nodded. “Also, I talked to Brigid, and she looked over that mail you got from the ex-boyfriend of the first victim. As you noticed, the dog pamphlets didn’t go through the mail, but there’s nothing there. Just a hint to mess with you.”

  “Okay,” Angus said, standing still as he looked at a picture of a blond woman to the right on the murder board. The one who smiled so brightly at the camera and had Angus’s eyes. “I’d rather have a smaller number of targets for this guy.” His jaw hardened and his shoulders went back. “Everyone get settled, and I’ll be back inside in a moment. Just want to double-check the perimeter.” He turned abruptly on his boot and strode outside.

  Nari watched him go, her instincts flaring. Roscoe yipped. She faltered and started for the doorway.

  “No. Let me.” Wolfe stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Finish your breakfast.” He grabbed his and Angus’s lattes and strode out the door.

  Nari’s stomach lurched. Everyone had a breaking point. With a serial killer after them, possibly the same one who’d taken his sister, was Angus nearing his?

  * * *

  Angus couldn’t breathe. His body flared as if fire ants swarmed beneath his skin, and every joint protested. He hurried into the rain, toward the forest, and let the cool water wash over his face. Navigating a barely there trail, he reached the trunk of a tamarack and leaned against it, partially bending over to gulp in air.

  “Panic attacks suck.”

  Angus jerked and lifted his head to find Wolfe on the trail, lattes in both hands. His eyes were direct and serious.

  “Go away, Wolfe. Just give me a minute,” Angus gasped.

  “Nah.” Wolfe loped toward him, handing over a latte. “We need to talk, and you could use some sugar and caffeine. Sit and drink.”

  Angus’s neck prickled. “No. Go inside.”

  “Sit or I’ll put you on your ass.” Wolfe smiled, and the sight wasn’t friendly. “Sure, it’d be a good fight, but you’re injured from the crash yesterday and in the midst of a panic attack. We’d end up on the ground, regardless.”

  Whatever. Angus dropped to his butt, letting the surrounding fir trees provide protection from the rain. “I would’ve won,” he grumbled, his lungs filling finally.

  “Sure.” Wolfe sat across the trail against the trunk of a spruce tree, stirring wet pine needles as he did so. He extended his legs and crossed his ankles next to Angus’s thigh. “So.”

  Angus took a deep gulp of the coffee and instantly regretted it. He licked sprinkles from his lips. “I’m fine. Just needed a minute.”

  “Minutes are all we got.” Wolfe drank his coffee.

  Wonderful. Clarence Wolfe in a philosophical mood was more than Angus’s temper could take. “Okay. You can sit here, but let’s
enjoy the quiet.” Angus was more careful with his next sip.

  “My sister died when we were kids. She was a teenager and just a couple of years older than me.” Wolfe drank thoughtfully, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Met some asshole in a chat room, thought he was her age, and met him for a date. He was an adult. Her body was found in our safe little town.”

  Angus set his head back on the rough bark. “I’ve read your file, and it’s not the same as my situation. Your loss stinks and I’m sorry, but it wasn’t your fault.” The idea that Wolfe wanted to talk about the past and his feelings only demonstrated how desperate Angus must look right now. His face heated.

  “It feels like my fault.” Wolfe twisted the coffee cup in his hands, his focus on it now. “I know, logically, that I was a kid younger than she was. That I didn’t know about the dangers of the internet, and I really didn’t know that she snuck out of our house that night. But still, she was my sister, and a monster took her. Hurt her. Killed her. It’ll always feel like my fault, no matter what my brain says.”

  “My sister’s death was my fault,” Angus said quietly. “Without my job, without my obsession with Lassiter, he wouldn’t have turned his attention to me and then to my sister. She was innocent, Wolfe. A freaking kindergarten teacher with a fiancé. She just wanted a good life. I got her killed.”

  Wolfe nodded. “She sounds like somebody who’d want you to hide away from the world and drink yourself to death.”

  Pinpricks climbed up Angus’s throat. “Jesus, Wolfe. Don’t give me the what-would-your-dead-sister-want-for-you speech, okay? That’s just bullshit. What my sister would’ve wanted was to teach school, have a couple of kids, and then coach softball. Not to end up with her heart sliced out.” He wanted to puke. The sugary drink rolled around in his stomach.

  “Nobody wants that, Force,” Wolfe said. “Stating the obvious isn’t going to get you back on track. If you’re running on fear, you’ll fuck this up. Considering you’re one of the few people I like in this world, I’d hate to have to kill you if Dana is threatened again.”

  It’d be nice if Wolfe was joking, but he probably wasn’t. “You’re right,” Angus said. “So take Dana and get the hell out of town. Go to an island somewhere until I find this guy and just be safe. In fact, take Mal and Pippa with you.”

  The quiet ticked around them for a moment.

  “Listen.” Wolfe sucked down half of his drink. “I can handle you broody, I can handle you drunk, but I can’t deal with you being an idiot. If you need to hit somebody, let’s do it. I’m happy to take punches from you. But you have to pull your head out of your ass, and it needs to happen now.”

  Angus took a deep breath. His friend was right, as bothersome as that fact was. “Is this your idea of tough love?”

  Wolfe’s lips twisted. “Huh? No. Tough love would’ve been me putting your head through that tree. This is me trying to be understanding and all of that shit.”

  Against all odds, Angus chuckled. God, he did appreciate his friends. “Okay. I’m focused. I’ll be clearheaded by the time we get back in the cabin and I’ll profile everyone.” Not once had he ever thought Wolfe’s would be the voice of reason.

  “Good. You might also want to figure out what’s up with you and Nari. You’re pushing her away so she doesn’t get killed, she’s avoiding you because she doesn’t trust her choices in men, and it’s just making everyone else gossipy and curious.” Wolfe tipped back his head and finished his drink, leaving whipped cream on his lips.

  Angus frowned. “There’s nothing up with us.” Except a lot of sexual tension and one great night of sex.

  “Oh, please. Don’t make me try the head-through-the-tree thing.” Wolfe lumbered to his feet and held down a hand. “Half of your panic here is the idea that Lassiter or Copycat will go after Nari just because you’ve been close to her. That might make you avoid your feelings, or it might make you amplify ones you might not have. Just figure it out before somebody gets hurt.”

  Angus accepted the hand and stood eye to eye with the soldier. “I’m not sure I like your philosophical side.”

  “Dude. I am so done with talking for the week. This was a lot.” Wolfe clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get some work done.”

  Fat raindrops from tree branches plopped on Angus’s head until he exited the forest, where Malcolm was waiting for them. Angus paused, his body chilling at the look on Mal’s face. “What’s happened?” he asked.

  Mal’s eyes burned. “We had the news on TV. Apparently joggers beneath Trunky Bridge found a body. Blond female with bright pink streaks in her hair.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The dead woman could not be Millie. It just couldn’t be. Nari scrambled to use every contact she had at HDD to find out more details on the deceased woman, while most of the team did the same. The news report had been brief, and other than the description of streaked blond hair, the joggers hadn’t provided any details to the reporter at the scene.

  Angus paced outside on the front porch, his phone at his ear.

  She thanked her friend and disconnected the call. “The HDD hasn’t been called in, so my sources don’t know anything.”

  “I’m waiting for Raider to see if the DHS has anything,” Dana said, her phone to her ear. “I’m on hold.”

  Pippa set down her phone. “Brigid is on it with HDD and her computer, but she thinks Metro caught the case, and they’re not sharing. She’s trying to track Millie via her phone and GPS and will get right back to us. It’s not Millie. It can’t be. She took the streaks out of her hair, remember?” She took a deep breath. “Is anybody hungry?”

  Nobody answered. Millie easily could’ve put more streaks in her hair. Jethro pounded away on his laptop, while Wolfe yelled at somebody in a lab somewhere. He hung up and threw the phone toward the sofa.

  “No luck?” Dana murmured.

  “No.” Wolfe ran a rough hand through his hair. “Anybody? Do we know anything?”

  Angus stomped inside, rain dotting his T-shirt. “Tate’s not answering his phone, but I got a contact in Metro to affirm that he caught the case. That’s all I know. Has Brigid been able to track Millie?”

  “Not yet,” Malcolm said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve reached out to my contacts at Metro and the case is fresh. They’re even trying to keep from sharing with the DHS. Nobody knows anything yet.”

  The cinnamon roll in Nari’s stomach turned to rock. She pressed a hand to her diaphragm. “A lot of women have pink streaks in their hair. We don’t even know if this woman is the victim of a homicide.” Yet she felt like throwing up anyway.

  Angus’s phone buzzed and he pressed a button. “Force.” He stiffened, his shoulders going back. “Tate. Yeah?” He listened for several moments, not moving. “Affirmative. Thanks.” His face lost all expression. “Metro has a female victim with a missing heart who is blond and about five feet tall. They’re searching for a note right now.”

  “Is it Millie?” Nari whispered, her heart aching. She had to figure out how to help everyone in the room. She couldn’t fall apart.

  Angus shook his head. “They haven’t identified her yet. The victim was thrown from the bridge and landed on her face.”

  “I have Raider and Brigid on speakerphone.” Malcolm straightened, setting his phone on the counter. “Millie is former HDD, so they’d have her prints on file. It should take seconds to determine.”

  Angus slipped his phone into his pocket. “There is no determination.”

  Nari frowned. “Why not? What aren’t you saying?”

  Jethro looked up from his computer. “Why can’t they identify her?”

  Angus exhaled, looking pissed all of a sudden. “The victim’s hands are missing.”

  Nari gagged and quickly covered the action with a cough. The woman’s hands and heart were taken, and she’d been thrown face-first from a bridge. “Either this guy is getting angrier or he wants us to worry while she’s identified. If so, then it probably isn’t Mi
llie. Right?”

  Angus lowered his chin. “Maybe. If it is Millie, he might want to draw out the moment.” That fast, Angus was back to being the profiler and not the pissed-off friend. His eyes went cold and flat. He looked at Jethro. “Anything on the last note?”

  “Yes.” Jethro closed his laptop. “Good thing I brought my own hot spot. The passage is from a seventeenth-century poem by a man named Giuseppe Legonito. He lost his family in a fire and slowly descended into madness. The poem is called The Fate of the Damned.”

  Wolfe grimaced. “That’s profound. What was the passage again?”

  Angus spoke before Jethro could. “‘Slivers of time make up each moment, and only the pale horse and his master prevail in the most crucial of breathy gasps.’”

  Jethro nodded. “The guy isn’t exactly subtle.”

  Angus dug his fingers into the corners of his eyes. “All right. Everyone keep working here. I’m going to crash the scene.”

  “The body won’t be there by the time you arrive,” Nari said. Why did he have to go out in the storm like that?

  “I know, but I want to examine the scene. The more information I have, the better I can profile this asshole,” Angus said. He looked at the assembled group. “For now, we go on the presumption that this wasn’t Millie, because this guy seems to have a pattern of killing people who look like members of our team. We use every resource we have to find Millie unless we get bad news from the lab.”

  Nari swallowed. “If that’s his pattern, he’s hit all the women on the team. Brigid, Dana, Millie, and me.” She looked at Pippa. “Both Pippa and Serena have other jobs and don’t work for HDD. Do you think he’d find look-alikes for them, too?” She had to keep Angus in his head to keep him in control.

  Thunder rolled outside. Angus prowled to the murder board tacked across the wall. “If his intention is to mess with us, it’s entirely possible. Although he’ll again turn to the real thing soon enough. I’ve already asked Tate to provide protection for Serena, even though we haven’t worked with her for a while.” He looked at the picture of his sister and then pivoted toward the door. “Regardless, he’s killed at least four women and they deserve justice. I’ll be back.”