Mountain Investigation (7 page)

“You don’t want to hear this,” she said, going for practical rather than coy. “It has nothing to do with the case.”

He tipped his head slightly. “Like it or not, you’re part of the case, which makes everything about you relevant. Besides, we’re still trying to figure out what Lee and al-Jihad want from you. Any small detail could help.”

“I can’t imagine you’ll learn much hearing about my years of college angst.”

“You never know.” His voice and expression were impassive, giving away nothing.

From nowhere, sudden frustration bubbled through Mariah. Or maybe it didn’t come out of the blue, she realized after a moment of surprise. On some level the irritation had been humming beneath the surface for longer than she’d known, even before Lee had breached the defensive electronic wall around her cabin and taken her hostage. In the months leading up to that, as she’d slowly come awake from the shock of the disaster her life had become, she’d found a kernel of angry impatience growing inside her.

Propelled by that hot irritation, she sat up and faced Gray in her hospital bed, leaning toward him in an effort to make her point, and maybe to see if she could find a crack or two in that cool façade.

“Then what, exactly, do you want to hear?” Her voice rose beyond the sick-sounding whisper she’d been affecting as part of her hospital-bound role, but she didn’t care. She’d been lying there, waiting, for nearly two full days; surely Lee would’ve come for her by now if he were planning on taking her from the hospital. For all they knew, he’d left the country, slipping the noose once again.

That fear, and the knowledge that she wouldn’t be safe as long as he was on the loose, sharpened her voice further as she said, “Okay, then. What part of my college angst do you want to hear about? Do you want to know how hard it was to finally be in a position to hang with a group of friends, and realize I didn’t want to, that I didn’t fit in with the uncool kids, never mind the cool ones? Or maybe how the only way I could really be a part of things was by hiding behind my camera, using it as an excuse to talk to people who forgot me the moment the frame was shot? Oh, wait. I bet you want to know that the reason I moved to New York after I graduated was because I hoped I’d fit in better with an artsy crowd. And how when I got there, when I got my dream job as the lowest of the low in a fashion photog’s shop,
that
was when I got to be a part of the cool crowd. That was when I got invited to the clubs, and partied until dawn without the damn camera in my hands.”

Gray leaned in and touched one of her hands, where she’d balled it into a fist. “Mariah—”

“I’m not done,” she snapped, barreling over him. “Because you probably want to hear about how I met Lee, not in one of those clubs, but in a coffee shop near my apartment. I was sitting at a sidewalk table reading a travel book about Paris—a girl can dream, right?—when someone reaches past me, taps the page I’m on, and a man’s voice says, ‘I’ve been there. It’s the most beautiful place on earth.’ The next thing I know, this absolutely gorgeous guy sits down opposite me and starts telling me about his trip to Paris. Only he doesn’t just tell me about himself, he asks me questions, too, and he listens as if he really cared about the answers, like he’s really into
me.
”

She thumped herself on the chest with one hand, barely registering that the other had somehow become tangled with Gray’s, that he’d turned to face her so they were practically knee-to-knee, nose-to-nose.

He drew breath to say something, but she beat him to it, knowing what he was undoubtedly going to remind her. “Of course, I know it was a setup. I didn’t back then, though. Back then, I thought it was love at first sight, just like it’d been for my parents.” She stared down at her hands, unconsciously tightening her grip on Gray’s fingers. “I may not have wanted the childhood I got, but I wanted what they had. I wanted that connection, the sort of landslide love that swept away everything else and made the rest of the world less important than what the two of them had together.” Her voice broke on tears she hadn’t even realized were
threatening. “I thought I’d found it with Lee. He made me believe in him, in
us,
but it wasn’t real. Everything I thought and felt was a lie. Worse, I was so blind, so stupid, that I didn’t see him for what he was. You’ve got to believe me,” she said urgently, leaning in closer. “I didn’t know. I didn’t suspect. If I did, I swear I would’ve done something before those bombs went off.”

And for the first time since three days after the Santa Bombings, when dark-suited men and women had appeared on her doorstep with a search-and-seizure warrant and had asked her to come with them, she thought there might be a chance that the person she was speaking to might finally believe her. She’d lived so long under a cloud of suspicion and self-recrimination that she’d thought she’d never find her way out. But somehow, in that moment, she saw a glimmer of hope, a small clear spot in the dark fog. At its center was a pair of cool eyes.

Gray’s face was very close to hers, making her aware of small details she’d been oblivious to before. Fine creases ran from the corners of his mouth and eyes, suggesting that he’d once smiled far more than he seemed to now. The touches of silver at his temples made him seem older than his years; she guessed he was in his late thirties. He projected a tough, battle-ready demeanor, but in his eyes, she thought she saw another man—not the soldier or the special agent, but a younger, softer version of both.

“It wasn’t your fault, Mariah,” he said, gripping both her hands now, as though trying to make her believe.

For a moment she thought he was talking about
whatever had happened to make him the cool, cynical character whose façade he presented to the world. Then, realizing he was talking about Lee, she blushed slightly. Inside her, a coil of uncertainty loosened, even as something else drew tighter. “I lived with him. I was married to him.”
He was my first and only lover,
she thought, but didn’t say that because that was the one thing she’d never shared with another human being, aside from her ex.

Since Lee hadn’t mentioned that fact, either to sneer about it in the courtroom or gloat over it in his letter, she prayed he’d forgotten that detail as inconsequential. But knowing him—or rather knowing the man he’d turned out to be, she feared that he was saving that information for the moment when it would inflict the maximum amount of pain. That was the sort of man he was.

She didn’t tell Gray any of that, though. Not because he was a Fed, but because he was holding her hands as though he could keep her safe through that simple contact, and because he was looking at her with a new heat in his eyes, one that sparked something deep inside her, something she thought had died the day she’d learned that Lee had been lying to her from the first moment they’d met.

“He never loved me,” she said matter-of-factly, having come to terms with that. “And he’d never been to Paris.” It wasn’t the most important thing, but it seemed to encapsulate their entire relationship. The first words he’d ever said to her had been a well-researched lie.

Gray’s lips twitched. “Bastard.”

And though she knew full well that the agent’s main purpose in life was bringing down people like Lee, she liked that Gray played along with her in that moment. Incredibly, impossibly, she began to laugh—a deep, belly laugh, tinged with hysteria. Within moments, though, the laughter threatened to turn to sobs as everything started pressing in on her.

It was all too much—the guilt she’d lived with for too long, the fear of captivity, the complications that had arisen in the wake of her escape…once again she was trapped in a life she didn’t want, one that kept her from feeling safe and at ease in her own skin.

Face burning from the embarrassment of Gray—of anyone—seeing her on the verge of losing it, she tried to pull away from him. “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to give me a moment here.”

He didn’t leave, though, and he didn’t let her withdraw. Instead, he held on to her hands, squeezing tight in support. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “You didn’t ask for any of this.”

Tears filming her vision, she shook her head. “But I didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“You are now.”

She blinked, surprised at the intensity in his eyes, and at the warm rush that surged through her at his words, a knife-edge combination of fear and unexpected heat. “I’m scared,” she said, the words coming out very small and thin, and shaming her with the weakness they revealed.

“You’d be an idiot not to be.” He surprised her, both with the low fervency of his words and by what he did next.

He dropped his head forward so his brow rested on hers. She’d never before thought of him as a man who needed to lean, but in that moment, she felt as though they were propping each other up.

“Gray?” she said, the single word a question that encompassed all the thoughts suddenly jammed inside her head.
What’s going on?
she wanted to ask,
Do you feel it, too?
But she didn’t have the guts, had never had the guts to do what mattered.

“I’ll protect you,” he said, the three words punching through her in a heartfelt vow, because she instinctively knew he wasn’t just promising to protect a witness, or potential asset. He was promising to protect
her.

“I know you will,” she said, trying not to make more of this than it really was. He was tired; they both were. The situation had thrown them together, and it had broken down barriers that perhaps would’ve been better left in place. Trying to resurrect some of those barriers, she said, “Because it’s your job.”

“And because of this,” he replied. Then he tipped his face up, and touched his lips to hers.

Mariah froze as heat raced through her veins and an unexpected flare of connection threatened to unlock a torrent of wants and needs too long denied. Her rational brain screamed that there was a cop at the door, and though Gray was the only one watching the in-room surveillance, everything was undoubtedly being caught on tape. More, experience had taught her that desire could make her do very stupid things.

But as his mouth slanted against hers and his lips exerted subtle suction, teasing hers apart for a touch of tongue, a nip of teeth, she couldn’t find the strength to pull away.

She hadn’t expected him to kiss her. Or at least not now, not under these circumstances. It seemed out of character for a man like Gray, who might push the boundaries of his position and his boss, but was always aware of himself, always on the job. Yet at the same time she could understand it, had felt—and denied—the chemistry from that first moment they’d met during her initial interrogations, and again when
he’d rescued her from the cabin and shielded her with his own body.

Now, realizing from the urgent press of his lips that he felt the same sharp, greedy attraction, she leaned into him, opened to him. And if a piece of her wondered whether this was another layer of manipulation, she told herself to enjoy now, analyze later.

He groaned when her tongue touched his, a harsh rattle at the back of his throat, and he held himself tense for a moment, as though fighting the mad impulse that had roared up and was riding them both, spurring them on. Mariah knew she should pull away, knew they both should, but she couldn’t make herself break their partial embrace any more than she could force herself to assess his motives.

Gray’s lips were clever and agile, and far softer than she would have expected, based on what she knew of the man. His skin was cool to the touch, which was definitely what she would’ve expected, but it heated rapidly, bringing an unfamiliar sizzle of feminine power surging through Mariah.

Going with that power, which made her feel as though she were in control, in charge, she changed the angle of the kiss and added a light scrape of teeth, then feathered a breath along his jaw, and into the soft place behind his ear, where she herself was supersensitive.

His breath caught on a second groan and he shuddered against her, then retaliated, dragging his lips across her throat, taking her earlobe between his teeth and biting down gently.

Mariah angled her head, baring herself to the sen
suous torture and moaning when he obliged. Then his lips returned to hers and she gave herself over to the kiss, losing her edge of control in the heat that rose up to surround them, consume them. She was vaguely conscious that she’d shifted, uncrossing her legs and leaning back as he stood and followed her down, so they were almost—but not quite—wrapped together on the narrow hospital bed. Still, though, their fingers were tangled together, a last hold on sanity.

Wanting to touch the big, masculine body that rose above her, she released his hands at the same moment he let go of hers. They reached for each other. Touched each other. And froze.

Reality returned with a cold, hard slap that did little to temper the burning heat rocketing through Mariah’s body. What the hell was she doing? What was she thinking?

She eased away from him and he from her, so their lips were no longer touching. Still, they were wrapped in an almost-embrace, with her palms pressed flat against the hard planes of his chest, and his hands cupping her waist in a caress that had perhaps been intended to help soothe away the danger and complications that had brought them together in the first place.

It was precisely those issues that rose up now, and had Mariah saying, “Bad idea.”

She could feel the hammer of his heart beneath her palms, and hear passion in the rasp of his breath. A mad part of her wanted him to argue, wanted him to take the decision away from her, simply wanted him to
take
her, there on the hospital bed, with a cop standing guard just
outside the swinging door and the video cameras taping away. The daringness of it surged through her bloodstream, a heady mix of heat and temptation. But instead of moving in to kiss away her reservations, Gray released her and stood up, stood back, his color draining.

Feeling exposed, though she was wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, Mariah sat up and drew the thin hospital sheet around her waist. She focused on those small tasks, giving them both a moment to recover. But when she glanced back at Gray, she found that he still stood there, looking shell-shocked.

Then she saw him retreat behind his cool agent’s façade; she could all but see the shields slam down, separating her from what little emotion he’d allowed to leak out during the kiss. When he spoke, his voice grated. “That can’t happen again.”

Mariah buried a small slice of hurt and nodded. “You were comforting me, and it got out of hand. That’s not a federal crime.”

“Got out of hand is an understatement.” He grimaced, raking a hand through his brown hair, mussing it. The result made him look younger, like the man she’d thought she’d seen just before their kiss. His eyes, though, were hard and uncompromising, very much those of the soldier, or the special agent. “Look,” he said, seeming to make an effort to soften his tone, “this isn’t going to work. I’ll deal with the tapes of the last few minutes’ worth of surveillance, then find someone else to take over this part of the case.”

“You’re quitting?” The thought brought a clutch of fear. She hated the idea of losing the one person she’d
considered even partially an ally. And that, she realized, had been a mistake. Gray wasn’t her friend or her ally, and he certainly wasn’t going to be her lover. When had she lost track of that? How had she let herself be so foolish based on a spark of chemistry and the fact that he’d rescued her?

“It’ll be safer for you if the agent protecting you isn’t emotionally involved in the case.”

She felt a shimmer of warmth at that, but squelched it and said, “We can agree to keep our distance from each other.” She would’ve reached out to him, but didn’t dare touch him, not with the residual hum of their kisses still speeding through her bloodstream. So, instead, she curled her fingers into the hospital sheet, trying not to let his answer matter. “Please don’t leave because of what just happened.” There was a faint tremor in her voice, warning that her emotions were suddenly too close to the surface when she’d successfully kept them buried for so long.

“I’m not leaving because of what just happened, or at least not the way I think you mean.” He paused, and in his eyes she thought she saw a flash of regret. But there was none of that in his voice, which went cool and remote, very much that of Special Agent Grayson when he said, “The emotions I was talking about, the ones that don’t have any place in an official investigation…they don’t have anything to do with you, or what just happened.”

Ouch. That was direct,
she thought. But even so, it took a moment before she got it. When she did, she sucked in a quiet breath and let it out again on a slow sound of pain. “You lost someone in the bombings.”

She didn’t need his slow nod of confirmation to know she had it right. It explained so many things, from his cold, almost brutal demeanor during the first investigation and his insistence on being involved in the jailbreak case, to his disobeying orders to sneak up and spy on her cabin for no other reason than because he suspected that she might still be involved with Lee.

“So you’ll understand why you’d be better off with someone else,” he said, his expression implacable.

“No, actually, I don’t,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level, and conscious of the others who might be listening. “We both want the same thing. We both want Lee, al-Jihad and everyone associated with them either dead or behind bars, right? There’s no difference.”

“There’s one very important difference.” Gray surprised her by moving into her space again, and leaning down so she could feel the heat of him.

“Oh?” she said, damning herself for the weakness of her voice, which had gone nearly to a husky whisper. “What would that be?”

“You want your ex off the streets so you’ll be safe. I just want him off the streets.” His eyes bored into hers. In case she’d missed his message, he spelled it out: “In the second scenario, you’re expendable.”

“Yet you kissed me.” It wasn’t the most important point, perhaps, but it was the one she wanted out there.

“It shouldn’t have happened. Chemistry can make us imagine things that aren’t real. It can complicate things that shouldn’t be complicated.”

But all of this is complicated!
she wanted to snap at him, but didn’t, because she saw a flicker of something
in his expression—a hint of wariness, maybe, or a crack in his armor.

She wanted to lean in and touch her lips to his, and see if she could turn the crack into a split, and get him to tell her what was really going on inside his head. But who was she to presume to know what a man was thinking? Maybe it was exactly as he’d said. Maybe she was a means to an end—nothing more—and the kiss had been, just as they’d both said, a mistake.

So instead of leaning in, she stayed put. “Please reconsider, Gray. I don’t trust Johnson to do the right thing.”

He didn’t argue that point. He did, however, straighten and move away, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll take care of it. It’s the least I can do.”

He pushed through the door and was gone before she could ask what he meant by that. Did he mean he owed her because he’d rescued her, and therefore felt partially responsible for her safety? Was it because he and his coworkers hadn’t yet brought the escapees to justice? Or, in the end, was it because of the kiss?

Mariah touched her lips, feeling the phantom press of his mouth against hers. “Leave it,” she whispered, trying not to dwell on what had just happened, and what it had made her feel, a response that had been so much stronger than she’d expected or wanted. But unexpectedly, the words brought a new urge, strong and fierce.
Leave it.
She should just go, take off, disappear someplace where neither Lee nor the Feds could find her.

The thought was so liberating, the desire so strong, that she was on her feet before she was even aware of
having moved. She was halfway across the room when the door swung open again. She looked up, her heart kicking at the thought that Gray had come back to argue some more, or maybe apologize, though he didn’t seem like the sort of man to apologize for telling the truth, hurtful or not.

It wasn’t Gray, though. It was a uniformed officer, presumably the one who’d been guarding her out in the hallway.

He blocked the door and avoided her eyes, making her wonder how much of her and Gray’s exchange he’d heard, and what else Gray had told him. But the cop said only, “Special Agent Grayson said I should guard you eyes-on until he gets back with his replacement.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “I was just…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”

She got back in bed and lay on her side, facing away from the officer, who ducked through the door to pull his chair inside the room. She knew it was rude of her to all but ignore him, knew she’d feel bad about that later, but she didn’t care right then. She was tired, sad and hurting, and just wanted to be left alone with the realization that Gray hadn’t agreed to protect her because of the attraction that snapped between them or because he was a good guy at heart. He’d agreed to the plan because, like his boss, he’d seen the value in using her. She’d been right—the kiss had been another layer of manipulation, though seemingly not a calculated one. There had been nothing personal about it at all. Worse, the cop inside the room was proof positive that Gray didn’t trust her one bit.

Which is fine,
she told herself.
Because I don’t trust him, either.
They’d moved from what she’d thought was the beginning of a truce that might’ve become more, to…nothing. He was gone and she had a feeling that he wasn’t coming back.

More important, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

W
ITH
M
ARIAH SAFELY GUARDED
by the officer on duty, Gray found an empty room down the hall and snagged a landline to dial out. When the phone rang for the fourth time on the other end, he started cursing under his breath. “Come on, come on. Pick up.”

The line clicked live, and a familiar voice said, “Jonah Fairfax here.”

“It’s Gray. I need your help.”

“Anything,” the other agent said without a moment’s hesitation. “What can I do?”

It still surprised Gray how quickly the two of them had become allies, especially given that the first time they’d met, Gray had arrested Fax none too gently. Granted, at the time Gray had not known that Fax was undercover, and that the prison break had been a setup. Fax had gone into the ARX Supermax Prison undercover on the orders of his boss, Jane Doe, and hadn’t realized that she’d turned and was working for al-Jihad until too late—after the jailbreak and subsequent chaos. He’d managed to avoid totally compromising the mission by hooking up with Bear Claw Medical Examiner Chelsea Swan and several of her friends. The small group, which had included a few trusted members of the FBI and the Bear Claw PD, had averted a disaster
and captured one of the escaped convicts, al-Jihad’s closest lieutenant, Muhammad Feyd.

In the aftermath, Fax and Chelsea had paired up and eventually gotten engaged, though they had put off the wedding until Chelsea was finished with her FBI training. She’d pursued FBI training as part of a long-delayed dream. Until then, Fax was committed to chasing down al-Jihad and the others, while doing his bit for the wedding plans—which, he’d admitted to Gray privately, had so far consisted mostly of staying out of Chelsea’s way. Gray had nodded and tried to grin, but as with the subject of holidays, the topic of weddings and marriages made him cringe.