Authors: Debra Dixon
And they did, almost in lockstep. By the time they reached the tenth floor, Jessica wanted to scream. Sully’s presence smothered her—fingertips at the small of her back to urge her through doorways, into the elevator, out of the elevator. It was her preoccupation with him that caused her carelessness.
She was in such a hurry to get away from him, she plowed right into two gentlemen carrying overloaded cardboard file boxes. Catching one of the lids before it slid off, Jessica opened her mouth to spit out the reflex apology, but it died on her lips as she got an eyeful. Nondescript dark suits, generic ties, average height, average build. Everything about them was one hundred
percent government issue. These were company men; she’d stake her life on it.
Looking at the bulging boxes and knowing they might have the names, all she could think of was that they’d make her kill again. They wouldn’t let her go. And she couldn’t be a part of that. Not again. She’d made a deal with Phil, but these men wouldn’t honor it.
With a smile that she knew was off center and as fake as they come, she backed up into Sully, hard enough that he had to circle her waist and steady her. “Oh, my,” she said, recovering her voice. “I’ve almost knocked everyone down. I’m so sorry.”
The two men stared wordlessly at them, obviously waiting for the trio to move away from the front of the elevator. Sully obliged by steering Iris behind him and drawing Jessica to one side, his arm still around her waist. He was also careful to keep his front toward the men so that the gun holstered at the small of his back was hidden. Instinct told Sully that broadcasting his status as a cop to these two would be a mistake.
The elevator whooshed open as soon as they pushed the button with the corner of one of the boxes. Sully nodded his head as they got in and gave them a big ol’ Texas good-neighbor smile. The men stood motionless, creating a tableau as the elevator doors closed. Everyone seemed frozen in place, even Iris.
“Who were they?” she finally whispered when the soft ding of the elevator shook them out of their trance.
An angry and unfamiliar female voice answered them. “The government. They came swooping in here right after lunch and ransacked Mr. Munro’s office. Taking whatever they wanted.” She huffed unhappily. “Something about a national security matter. They
said they’d bring it all back, but Mr. Munro’s not going to like this. Iris, honey, I’m glad you’re here. Do you know where your daddy is? I’ve got to talk to him. And fast.”
All three heads had swiveled toward her the moment the woman spoke. She was fortyish and ready for battle, hands on her size twelve hips and her size five fuchsia pumps planted squarely in the beige carpet. Jessica recognized her immediately, but the woman’s gaze seemed to brush past her to rivet on Sully as if he was the real threat.
“I’m Carol McMillian. Phil Munro’s secretary.”
“Sullivan Kincaid.”
That jolted her. “The detective who called yesterday?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Something happened.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Carol was silent for a moment as she absorbed the news, almost like a widow whose brain refused to process information. Then her eyes flicked over the woman backed up against him, over his hand which was still flattened protectively on her midriff. Very slowly, he moved his hand and stepped away from her. The fact that Jessica hadn’t already withdrawn from his touch was filed in his brain for examination another time. And so was the feel of soft skin beneath his palm and fingers.
“Mr. Munro’s car was found abandoned,” he announced, dropping the news on the woman like a house from Kansas. “Stripped for parts.”
She blanched. “Was he—?”
“No.” Sully cut her off. “There’s no evidence of foul play beyond the fact that his car was vandalized. The Houston police have taken over the case.”
“Completely?” The surprised question was from Jessica.
Sully ignored her. “Until the officers come by to interview you, Ms. McMillian, I’d appreciate it if you said nothing to the other employees. Not about the men who were just here or about the car being found.”
She nodded, still slightly dazed, uncertain what to do next.
“Iris wants a picture from her dad’s office,” Jessica murmured into the silence, and the woman nodded again. Sully mentioned the phone call and excused himself too.
The entire length of the corridor, Jessica felt Sully’s eyes boring into her back. She knew he followed only a few steps behind, waiting for her to make a mistake. She could sense the patience in him, the watchfulness.
Regardless of his statement that Houston had taken over the investigation, he’d be asking questions soon. He might have been replaced in an official capacity, but Sully wasn’t the kind of man to let someone else clean up his mess. His first questions would no doubt be about the CIA guys and her reaction to them.
Jessica cringed mentally at her lapse of control. She hadn’t expected them to be so bold as to march into Phil’s company office and haul off files in broad daylight. There’d been no way to disguise the sick tension that had tightened her stomach muscles. Every bit of the fear had been transmitted right to Sully through the contact of his hand, of his chest against her back. Sully had known immediately that something was wrong. He’d followed her lead and played the innocent bystander, but now he’d want explanations.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire
. Explanations were the most dangerous of all.
Reaching Phil’s office seemed like a milestone, a chance to escape Sully’s intense scrutiny, but it wasn’t. He caught her just beyond the door and held her back with the softest of touches on her shoulder as Iris went to the desk. Together they stood slightly to the right of the doorway, surveying the room around them. All of the pictures were off the walls. Several drawers of the cherry credenza-style file cabinets lining one side were open and obviously gutted of important files. She imagined the drawers of Phil’s desk had fared no better.
Silently she cursed Sully for interrupting her first search of the office. Now it was too late. If the file or the book had been here …
Sully leaned closer, eerily finishing her thoughts. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
In spite of herself, Jessica rubbed the side of her neck against her shoulder, trying to erase the sensation that his breath created as it whispered across her skin. Her reaction weakened her disclaimer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Darlin’, whatever it was you were looking for this morning is most likely in those boxes we just passed. Isn’t it?” His voice was low, meant only for her. “The real question is, ‘Do you think
they
know what they’re looking for?’ ”
She didn’t respond, but that was answer enough for a man like Sully. He took bits and pieces that most people would ignore and wove them into theories that were impossibly viable.
Iris got the photograph and turned toward them. “Can we go now? I don’t want to stay here anymore.”
“I’ll take her down,” Jessica volunteered. There was certainly nothing to keep her in the office now
that the agents had come and gone. All she could do was hope.
Even so, she didn’t move, waiting for Sully’s agreement rather than walking out. It cost her nothing to pretend Sully was in control. And as long as he believed he was, he’d keep his suspicions to himself instead of sharing them with the Houston police. One smart man was quite enough to deal with. She didn’t want to have to juggle an entire department.
“All right,” he finally agreed. “But wait in the lobby. We’ll caravan. I want to make sure you get back to Jericho.”
“Make sure we get back?” Jessica echoed, unable to keep the trace of sarcasm out of her voice. “Where else would we go?”
“Twenty-two Knoll Road, Utopia, Texas, for starters.”
Her hands stilled in the act of reaching for Iris’s shoulders as she passed.
He already knew where she lived?
A half beat later she dropped her hands, sending Iris out the door to talk to Carol and wait by the elevator.
When they were alone, she said, “I thought you said you were off Phil’s case.”
“Yeah. But I’m not off yours.” It was both a warning and a promise. The warning scared the hell out of her, and the promise took her breath away with the possibilities.
“How do you know my address? I never told you. You weren’t there for my statement.”
“Didn’t need to be. I checked out the rental car this morning. Sloppy of you to leave the identifying paperwork on the dash last night. Anyone with a badge can get a copy of your driver’s license information from the rental agency.”
“Gee, Sully, looks like you went to a lot of trouble to find out where I live. Why didn’t you just search my purse or ask me for my phone number?”
“That wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, would it?”
“I don’t know. Searching for the gun certainly seemed to amuse you. I’m surprised you didn’t check my panties for my birth certificate while you were at it. But then, you weren’t thinking very clearly at the time.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Taunting Sully was tantamount to prodding a sleeping lion. Her heart thudded sickeningly. She reminded herself that the door was still open. Nothing could happen. Nothing.
So why did it feel as if something was happening? Why was she
hoping
something would happen? His eyes burned into hers, relentless and angry.
Sully gritted his teeth as she flung that little barb at him. Ooh, the lady was good, reminding him that his self-control had gone right out the window this morning. She knew how to push buttons, but she was sadly mistaken if she thought all he could do was unfasten them. He could push ’em too.
“Don’t you worry.” Sully let his gaze travel downward until it rested where the juncture of her thighs was hidden beneath her skirt. “I’ve been givin’ your panties a lot of thought.”
As he intended, his plain talk shut her up. Her eyes flared with a mixture of what he thought was panic, anger, and maybe the tiniest twinge of arousal.
“Tread carefully, Jessie. The only reason I haven’t turned you and that peashooter over to Houston PD is that girl trusts you and needs you right now. So I’m content to watch your little drama play out. But if you
piss me off, I can change my mind in a New York instant.”
“What?” she mocked, anger gaining the upper hand in her expression and voice. “And give up the only chance you have to stay on this case? Peddle that line of bull to someone who’s going to buy it. I saw your expression when you walked out of the captain’s office. He took you off the case. Face it, Sully, you’re not givin’ me up to them because I’m your ticket back into the game.”
“You’d do well to remember that I’m the one who can punch your ticket.”
“How can I forget with you glaring at me like that all the time? Why the hell are you so angry at me, Sully? What’d I do to you?”
“Besides the lying? The gun? The secrecy?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Besides that. It’s not enough. Not for this.”
They hadn’t raised their voices, but they were so close now, he could lean down and kiss her if he wanted. And he wanted to. He wanted to do more than kiss her. None of it was romantic or elegant or gentle. No hearts and flowers. Just sweat and satisfaction. All of it was erotic and gritty and rough.
“Why are you so angry?” she whispered, reminding him that she was waiting.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Sully flicked his gaze at her mouth, exercising every ounce of control he had not to take it with his. Slowly he placed his fingers along the edge of her collarbone and used his thumb to stroke the hollow at the base of her throat. Her pulse jumped beneath his touch.
“Jessie, if I stop being angry, we’re going to end up in bed. Or up against a wall. Leave my anger alone or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Then I’m safe. I’ve already paid hell.” If she hadn’t been running—
escaping
—when she said it, Sully would have admired her comeback.
“Not like this,” Sully said softly.
The phone call only took a few minutes. When he was done, he stopped by the secretary’s desk and gave her his card. “Keep this just in case, Carol.”
“Okay. And would you tell Miss Daniels I’m sorry I didn’t speak to her? I feel awful for not recognizing her, but I was so agitated over those men and what they did to the office.”
“That’s right. I forgot. Miss Daniels is a former employee. How long has it been since she worked here?”
Startled, Carol said, “She never worked here. And I would know. I address all the Christmas cards every year. Mr. Munro has this thing about a personal holiday greeting for every employee. Her name’s never been on the list.”
“Then how do you know her?”
“She’s an associate of Mr. Munro’s. She’s in the business or something. She used to come in a couple of times a year.”
“Are you sure?” Sully’s mind was already heaping the latest lie to the pile accumulating at Jessica’s feet.
“That white streak in her hair is a little hard to forget.” Carol sounded rock-solid on that point.
Sully asked to make another phone call. This one took a little longer because he had to dial information for the number, but he finally reached the Utopia police and identified himself.
As soon as Jessica pressed the code, the beach house gate drifted open on silent gears. She took her foot off the brake and pushed the accelerator. Neither the stop-and-start motion of the car or her second call to Iris produced more than a muffled grunt from the sleeping girl
Jessica frowned, knowing that falling asleep had been more than Iris’s way of dealing with the sun, which had hovered on their horizon most of the way back to Jericho. Iris had closed her eyes, not to shut out the piercing light coming through the window, but to shut out reality. It was an old trick, and not very effective. At least not for more than a few hours at a time.
Unfortunately everyone had to learn that for themselves. Iris would soon enough, and Jessica wondered why fate always felt the need to teach that particular lesson at such an early age. She also wondered why waxing philosophical gave her headaches.