She harrumphed. He rubbed his hand on his jaw. “What does that mean?”
Her brows went up. “Nothing,” She paused a second. “Not really. I just didn’t see you having a sense of humor, that’s all.”
He wasn’t sure he liked that. In fact, he knew he didn’t. He sat back down. “Let’s back up here. Your early assessment didn’t seem very flattering. Do you mind telling me exactly what you thought of me?”
She studied his sexy brown eyes, wondering what parts of her first impression she should share. “You know they call you a cobra in the courtroom. I thought they were right.”
“I see.” His words were long and drawn out. “A cobra.”
He picked up the Williams file and started flipping through it, not one bit pleased. He’d put his life on hold to help a woman who thought he was a damn snake.
Lindsey frowned. “Mark?”
“Yes?” he said, without looking up from the file.
She reached out and touched his arm. Heat shot up his arm. His eyes lifted to hers. He was losing his freaking mind. No woman impacted him like this. He looked at her lips. Kissing her was on his mind.
“I was only teasing you about the cobra stuff, just because of the reputation you have. I admire you for your achievements. I told my father he was wrong about you.”
He wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. She’d talked to Edward about him. “I turned down your offer. Why would you defend me?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Believe it or not, aside from the Hudson mess, I have always been a good judge of character. Just because you ticked me off doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. That’s just one of the many differences between my father and me. He can’t separate the two. Besides,” she added, “if there’s a cobra around, I want him on my side.” She playfully poked his arm.
He smiled. Then, before he could respond, she added, suddenly serious, “I do appreciate you coming back, even if it isn’t exactly on the terms I had hoped for.”
“So,” Mark said in a slow, playful voice. “How much do you appreciate it?”
She eyed him. “What?”
“How much do you appreciate me being here?” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes. “Why do I know you are being bad, Mark Reeves?”
He laughed. “I’m good when I’m bad, baby.”
She gaped at him. “You’re out of control.”
A glimmer of heat sparked in his eye. “Hmm, I am. I think you should do something about it.”
She shook her head. “That,” she said sharply, “would be dangerous.”
“I thought you liked danger, being FBI and all.”
She glowered at him. “Will you be serious?” she said, abruptly changing the subject. “Please. Now, I want to know how bad the books really are.”
He longed to pull her back into her playful mood. But it was too late. With a brief moment of regret, he answered. “I do my job well. It will be fine.”
“That bad?” she asked apprehensively.
He sighed. “It could be worse.”
“Oh,” she said flatly. “That bad.”
“Don’t worry, it will be fine.” And it would be. He was going to make sure of it.
Irritation flickered in her eyes. “Mark, don’t protect me. I hate being coddled. Tell me how bad it is.”
“I’m not protecting you. I’m simply not done with my analysis,” he countered.
Her eyes narrowed. “You are too. You’ve said as much.”
He laughed. There was no fooling Lindsey. “I’m sure. Look, let’s make a deal.”
“Another one?” she asked incredulously.
He slanted her a plaintive look. “I never make a promise I can’t keep, so let’s compromise.”
She jumped in. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Let’s try this again,” he said with forced patience. “Where I come from, a compromise is better than a lack of one. Should I continue?” He crossed his arms in front of his body and waited for her answer.
She made a face. “Fine.”
“When it comes to business matters, I’ll tell you the cold, hard facts. However, I can’t and won’t promise not to be protective in matters involving rapists and murderers. It’s just not in my chemical makeup.”
“Fine. I’m too tired to argue.” He tone was tense. “Do you have the Hudson file?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I just want to look through it tonight,” she said quietly.
He studied her expression. “The similarities are bothering you?”
“The marks on the girls’ arms.” Lindsey grabbed the file and pulled the pictures out again. She held up several pictures, one at a time, and pointed to each girl’s arms. “The markings on their skin, the similarities in the girls’ appearance . . .” she paused deeply in thought, “I don’t know. It just bothers me.”
It bothered him too. The way Lindsey resembled the victims bugged the hell out of him. “Yeah, I have to admit something doesn’t feel right. I did some research after you left my apartment the other day. There are too many parallels in the two cases for comfort.”
Her face was filled with concern. “Yeah, I know. I think we should go interview Williams before we do anything else tomorrow.”
“A good plan,” Mark said.
She glanced up at him. “I scheduled the partners’ meeting. Everyone had a lot of questions, but I put them off for the most part. I figured you might have your own approach to things.”
Mark leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the arms. “Yes, actually I do.”
* * * * *
Exhausted both mentally and physically, Lindsey stepped in the front door of her one-bedroom apartment and wearily discarded her belongings on the foyer table. She started walking towards the living room when a sudden wave of unease stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned and walked to the door and flipped the locks into place. She pushed to her tiptoes and looked through the peephole.
Nothing.
An inescapable shiver slid down her body. This damn case was messing with her head. She turned away from the door, determined to shake whatever was rattling her. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror, and paused. Leaning forward, she examined her image. She exhaled heavily. Okay, so it was a little creepy to look so like the victims. With Hudson, she was so certain of his innocence she had never given it much thought. She should have, of course, because his innocence meant the responsible person was still free. But that was rape, and this was murder. That changed things.
What have you gotten yourself into, Lindsey?
She shook her head and turned away from the mirror, refusing to spend one more moment acting like a frightened kitten. A few minutes later, with sweats and a t-shirt replacing her business attire, she sat down on her bed with her briefcase in hand.
Scouring the Hudson and Williams files for some semblance of answers took hours. She’d been so certain Hudson was innocent, and looking through his file those old gut feelings about him came roaring back to life. Tunneling her fingers into her hair, she made a frustrated sound.
He couldn’t be innocent. It was crazy to even think such a thing.
Determined to handle the Williams case without flaw, she began scanning his file. Thus far, there were four dead women, all of whom were students at the college where Williams taught. The evidence was all circumstantial. She frowned. Williams could be a fall guy, as her father had suggested.
Or he could be a cold-blooded killer.
And he was a common denominator. He’d tutored each and every one of them at some point. In two cases, the girls were killed on nights he had met with them. Sounded like guilt. Yet there was no physical evidence.
Reaching for the Hudson file, she laid it on top of the Williams file and flipped it open. Hudson’s situation had been similar in many ways. He managed a restaurant near the NYU campus, a hotspot for late nights. The victims had all been visitors the night of their attacks. Yet not one
could identify Hudson. Their attacker had worn a mask. But, the police needed a conviction, and he had been a common denominator with no alibi.
Lindsey had all but chewed her pencil in half. “Damn, I am far too tense,” she murmured, dropping the pencil on the bed as she wrapped her arms around her knees.
Shoving her files back into her briefcase, she decided to attempt to sleep. It was, after all, two in the morning. Her mind was racing with many uncontrollable and unsettling thoughts. She wondered if Mark was awake. The urge to call him was strong. Which was crazy. Why would she call Mark?
Chapter Four
Lindsey sat straight up in the bed, hand going to her chest.
A loud noise filled the air, penetrating her sleep-fogged mind. Her heart was beating a million times too fast, and her t-shirt was damp. She eyed the nightstand, and let out a breath.
The alarm.
She reached over and turned it off, as images began to form in her mind. As she shoved her hand through her bed-ruffled hair, she felt frustration build. Even in her sleep, she was battling the past. She’d been having a nightmare. A man was chasing her. She tried to make out his features but couldn’t. Running . . . she’d been running from him.
Desperate to get to Mark.
Mark? Why was Mark in the equation? It was strange. She struggled to bring back the images, but her memory failed. Her mind was a blur where she wanted it to be vivid. But the feeling of fear, of being in danger, was as clear as the new day now here. She shoved the blankets aside and eyed the clock, determined to shake the darkness of her feelings.
Coffee. She needed coffee. It was her first-line cure for most things. If it didn’t work, she went for the sure fix. Chocolate. Once the pot was brewing, she took a speedy shower and dressed. She wanted to call her ex-partner from the bureau before Mark arrived.
Dressed in faded jeans, a tan, fitted knit shirt, and boots almost the same color, she walked to the living room, coffee cup in hand. A few moments later, she leaned against a small walnut-stained desk and dialed the phone.
A moment before she heard his voice, she felt a sick feeling of dread. She’d been a crappy friend and knew it. “Steve here.” Hearing his answering voice only made that feeling worse.
“Steve,” she said a bit too softly, “it’s Lindsey.”
She could hear his smile through the phone. “Hey partner, or maybe I should say, stranger?”
There was a reprimand in his tone, but it didn’t lessen his welcome. It only served to make her feel guiltier. “I should have called before now.”
“Yes, you should have. Don’t expect me to say anything different. I’m just glad you are calling now.”
“I’m in town.”
“You’re kidding? For a visit or to stay?”
Talking about this was hard. In the past, Steve had been one of the few people she told about her life. It should have made it easier. It didn’t. “My father has cancer. I’m running his firm until he is through the worst of it.” She stopped there. What if he didn’t get through it? A moment of silence passed and she knew Steve was thinking the same thing. “Or until someone else takes over.”
“I had no idea,” he said with sincere emotion in his voice. “I’m sorry. I wish you would have let me know. I know this is hard for many reasons.”
His understanding nature made her guilt flare again. “I’m sorry, Steve.” And she was. He was a good friend, and she had turned her back on him along with the city. It wasn’t necessary to explain what she apologized for. They both knew.
He was silent for several moments. “If anyone knows why you needed out of here, it’s me.”
“But it didn’t mean I had to turn my back on you. I . . .”
“Don’t have to explain,” he finished for her. “I’m happy to hear from you now.”
She sighed. “I won’t repeat the past. Hearing your voice is like a breath of fresh air. A needed one.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m going to hold you to that. How about lunch today? Let’s start catching up.”
“I wish I could, but I have a case. It’s a problem.”
“I’m listening.”
She smiled into the phone. He expected her to want his help. It was the partners thing. There was a bond that never went away. “Williams is the guy’s name.”
“Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Accused of killing a group of women. The profile, well, the profile fits . . .”
“Fits what?”
Her doorbell rang, and she was thankful for the reprieve. Talking about the similarities of these two cases was harder than she would like.
“I need to answer my door. Hang on for me.”
With his quick approval, she sat the phone down and rushed to the door. She pulled the door open and waved Mark forward, but not before she felt a rush of awareness. A quick look told her he looked as he had the first day they met, James Dean casual, and way too sexy to be safe.
For her.
She turned away from him, not wanting to keep Steve waiting. “I’m on the phone,” she told him, looking over her shoulder. “There is coffee in the kitchen, if you want some.”
Lindsey grabbed the phone again. “I’m back.” She turned to find Mark standing in the archway overlooking the living room. Propping one shoulder against the wall, he studied her with a watchful eye. She studied him back. Didn’t mean to. It just happened. When they looked at each other, she seemed to forget everything else.
Steve had said something. Damn. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”
“What about this case?”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy.” Mark’s eyes narrowed at her words. She turned and gave him her back. “It’s a lot like the Hudson case.”
A moment of quiet. “How like it?”
“Very.”
“Can’t someone else take the case?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“I’ll be fine, Steve. The problem is—Lewis, the male chauvinist pig himself, has been assigned to help the local authorities.”
“Lewis?” He laughed. “You won’t get much information from him, that’s for sure. I told you to be nice to him.”
“I tried.”
“Calling him a red-faced, perverted pig was nice?”
She sighed. “He deserved it, Steve, and you know it. He treated all the females in the bureau like they were ornaments, not professionals. And may I remind you he had played a nasty little joke on Rebecca, who happens to be a damn good agent, and almost got her fired in the process.”
“I know, but you do tend to speak your mind a little too bluntly at times.”
“But I tell the truth,” she argued.
“Yes,” he said with a smile in his voice. “That you do. I’ll see what I can find out and call you later today.”
“Thanks Steve.” She gave him her number and said a quick goodbye.
Lindsey turned to lock gazes with Mark. The impact was nothing less than magnetic. So much so that there was simply no use fighting it. The attraction was too magnetic, too powerful. She’d spent a good hour in bed the night before thinking about this thing between them.
To act on it or not had been the question she battled to answer. Finally, she had decided to act . . . only on her terms.
* * * * *
Don’t you want some coffee?” she asked with a nod towards the kitchen.
He didn’t care about the damn coffee. He wanted to know who she had been on the phone with. He followed her, his eyes admiring the soft little sway of her curvy hips. She looked like pure temptation in her snug jeans. He’d thought she looked amazing in business attire. In casual wear, she was even more alluring. Perhaps more approachable.
The woman lit him up like a match. Never, ever had he wanted someone the way he did her.
Mark never mixed business with pleasure. In Lindsey’s case, he wouldn’t be at Paxton if it weren’t for her. In his mind, that justified pursuing Lindsey. And he had every intention of seeing where their attracti
on would lead.
He stepped into the doorway of the kitchen, feeling the unwelcome, but undeniable, white-hot flare of jealousy. “Friend?” he asked, unable to keep the question from flowing from his lips.
A puzzled expression filled her face. “What?”
“On the phone.”
“Oh,” she said. “My old partner.” She sat her cup on the counter and reached into the cabinet and pulled out another as she added, “Before I moved to Washington.” She poured coffee in both cups, and turned her attention to Mark. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black is fine. Thanks.” He stepped forward and took the cup from her. “Partner or boyfriend?”
“What?” she asked, acting confused. It seemed sincere. He wanted to believe it was. “Boyfriend? You mean Steve?” She laughed. “My old partner, my boyfriend?” She reached for her cup, seeming more amused than angry at the questions. “He’s married. In fact, his wife’s a dear friend. Steve’s digging up some insider info on the case for us.”
“That’s good.” Mark relaxed a bit. “Anything would be helpful at this point.”
He leaned an elbow on the counter, and sat his cup down, surprised when she did the same. They faced one another, the look they shared like a live charge of electricity. Her soft smell floated across the steaming coffee, carrying with it a sensual wave of heat.
A silent understanding passed between them, a mutual need that surpassed words. The question was, did either dare cross the line of business and pleasure? For Mark, he had already decided, yes. He could only hope she too would allow them to explore what was so evidently, so potently, a mutual attraction.
He knew the moment she reached for escape. Something, a hint of fear, flashed in those way too alluring eyes. And then she spoke, and he knew her intent was to change the mood. “I’m going to call him back and asked him to run a national search for crimes that match our profile since Hudson went to jail.”
“Hudson?” he arched a brow.
She shrugged. “The two profiles fit, Williams and Hudson. Who knows at this point? I even considered they could both be innocent and the real criminal is still at large.”