Читать книгу Federal Agent Under Fire - Julie Lindsey Anne - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThere was nothing to see at the lookout. No clues. No boot prints. It was a five-mile walk for bust. Frustration churned in Blake’s chest as he mentally replayed the morning’s events. Every clue pointed directly to his nemesis, a maniac he’d dedicated years to finding. Where are you, Nash? Blake’s muscles tensed as another terrible thought came to mind. “We need to go.”
“What? Why?” Marissa followed him back down the trail at a clip. “What’s happening? Did you find something?”
Blake slowed his pace by a fraction, adjusting for her shorter gait. “When was the last time you were home?”
“This morning. I left around five.”
He furrowed his brow. “The rose petals.”
“You want to see if he left them on my doorstep.” She bobbed her head in understanding. “Well, that’s completely terrifying.”
Blake slowed further. “You should probably pack a bag while we’re there and make plans to stay with family for a few nights.”
“Do you really think he’d come for me again? He has to know you’re on to him. It was broadcast on the news.”
“He’ll come.”
“But you were standing right beside me on the air.”
“Exactly.”
Marissa marched silently for several paces. “Fine, but I’m not dragging my family into this. I’ll stay somewhere else.”
Blake’s eyes widened. “Haven’t you told them what’s happening?”
“Of course.” She’d called her parents the minute she’d arrived at the sheriff’s department and again while Blake had organized his team. “I told them everything I knew this morning, which was that a lunatic nearly abducted me in the park. Then, I filled them in on the possibility of a fugitive at large and warned my sister to stay out of the park. Dad caught the news, so he knows I’m with you. My sister’s been checking in by text every hour or so to make sure I’m still out here. Still safe.”
Blake scowled. “So, stay with them.”
“And paint a big red X on their door? No thank you. I’m not leading a psychopath straight to my family.”
“Well, you can’t stay at your place.”
“Fine, but I won’t stay with my parents or sister either. That’ll have to be good enough.” Five quiet miles later, she hooked a left at the trail’s base and headed for the parking lot.
Blake fired up his truck and followed her older model mud-soaked Jeep down the county road through town at just over the speed limit until houses faded into farms and farms gave way to forest. She slowed at a partially hidden drive and turned onto a narrow gravel road. His truck bounced and rocked along behind her for several minutes before a small clearing came into view.
A log cabin was situated among the trees with a portion of somewhat flat land serving as her front and back yards. Flower baskets and wind chimes hung from the porch roof and a pair of rocking chairs stood sentinel beside the door.
He met her on the porch, gun drawn. No rose petals, but the front window was open, leaving her sheer white curtains to flutter.
“Do you normally leave this open?”
“No.” Marissa’s fearful gaze was latched to the parted window frame. “I always check the windows before bed, and I didn’t open any this morning.”
Blake ran cautious fingertips around the wooden trim, stopping at the first patch of splintering, a discreet but telltale sign of tampering. He sent a text to West. They needed a deputy for fingerprints. Normally, he’d suggest the deputy talk to Marissa’s neighbors, but she didn’t have any.
Marissa lifted her house key on trembling fingers, and he slid it into the still locked door. With any luck, Nash was hunkered down inside, feeling overly confident and about to be reunited with his maker.
He raised a flat palm between them. “Wait here.”
Marissa followed him inside and pulled the door shut.
He gave her a warning look. “I told you to wait outside.”
Her pale skin and flushed cheeks said what she wouldn’t. Marissa was scared.
Blake’s need for vengeance warred momentarily with his desire to erase the terrified expression from her face. “Stay close.”
She crossed the floor on silent feet, thanking him with wide blue eyes. Her small pink lips were pressed tight. He cleared the front room and kitchen, then crept into the narrow hallway separating her living space from the rest of the home. So far, every window in the house was open.
“What was that?” Marissa pressed her fingers against his waist.
Blake froze as something moved in the next room. He set his hand on the doorknob and motioned Marissa to step back. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers from the fabric of his shirt and inched away. With the flick of Blake’s wrist, the door flung open, and he rushed inside. “Clear.” Blake was alone in a brightly colored utility room, surrounded by murals of birds in trees and yellow rays of sunshine.
Marissa poked her head into the room. “Nothing?”
The curtain ruffled, and she jumped. White eyelet lace rubbed the curled pages of a worn paperback on the sill.
Blake pushed the fabric aside for a look into the backyard. “How many more rooms?”
“Three. A bathroom next door and two bedrooms across the hall.”
They moved in tandem through the next two rooms, both small, cheerfully decorated and void of Nash. The last door was several paces beyond the others and closed. Marissa gasped. “I didn’t close that door.”
Blake squared his shoulders, and Marissa fell back again. He shoved the final door open, and a slew of swear words lodged on his tongue.
Marissa padded into the room a moment later. “Oh, no.”
A wedding veil was strewn across Marissa’s bed and surrounded by hundreds of white rose petals. The soft scent raised bile in Blake’s throat.
Marissa curved one hand over her mouth and pressed the other to her stomach, as if she might be sick.
Without thinking, he pulled her against his chest and wound protective arms around her back. She curled against him and buried her face into her palms. Warmth and resolve blew through him in a powerful gale. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to see to it.”
His phone buzzed, and Marissa stepped aside. A text message from West confirmed that a deputy was on his way with a print kit for the window.
Blake snapped a photo of Marissa’s bed, then texted it to his team and brothers. They were going to need more than a print kit.
“Can you tell me if anything else was altered, missing or left behind?” He moved methodically through the room in search of something that could lead him to Nash.
Marissa scrutinized the room, moving slowly from closet to night stand and dresser before creeping softly toward the bed. “Just this,” she whispered, as if she might wake the sleeping veil. “Why would he do this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he hoped to meet you back here.” He regretted the words immediately and hated Nash all the more for the truth behind them.
Her eyes widened in horror. “Meet me back here for what?”
Blake’s tongue seemed to swell as a line of horrific ideas presented themselves. Too many years on the job and in the military had irrevocably polluted his thoughts. Now, he saw danger everywhere.
Marissa backed away from the bed and freed a duffel bag from her closet. “He came here after I got away.”
“Yes.” Blake swallowed a brick of regret. If only he’d shot Nash when he’d had the chance.
“We were looking for him at the park, and he was here.”
The words, I’m sorry, filled Blake’s heart and mind, trapped behind a much stronger will to stay focused and do the job this time. Apologies could come when Marissa was safe and Nash was behind bars or dead. Preferably the latter for what he’d put her through.
Marissa filled the bag with clothes, opening and closing drawers, shoving handfuls of random items into the canvas duffel without looking.
Scents of powder and vanilla surrounded them, distracting Blake in dangerous and unprofessional ways. “We can wait outside in my truck.” He scooped a pair of white lace panties up as they hit the floor beneath her gaping bag. He passed the soft scrap of material to Marissa, doing his best not to picture her in only those. “You don’t have to stay in here with this.” He tipped his head toward her bed.
She stuffed the panties into her bag and opened another drawer. “Thanks.” Her cheeks reddened as their gazes locked.
“I’m going to check the perimeter.”
“No.” Alarm changed her features. “Don’t.”
“It’s okay.” Blake infused the words with as much promise as possible. “You’re safe with me, and I’ll make sure to keep you that way.”
She dipped her chin and went back to stuffing things blindly into her bag.
Blake circled the home’s exterior and returned to Marissa several minutes later. A fresh text had arrived. “The team secured a room for us at the Blue Ridge Lodge outside of town. We know now that you were targeted. That makes you safer with us until we find Nash, and we will find him.”
She gnawed her bottom lip. “One room?”
“It’ll be crowded but secure. My team and brothers will come and go as the investigation moves along. And don’t worry, contrary to local legend, the Garrett men were raised to be gentlemen.”
She pinned him with a fiercely ornery smile. “I was raised to be a princess. Look how that turned out. I’m about to spend the night with a man I just met.”
He shot the ceiling another look and rearranged his ball cap. If the job didn’t kill him, protecting Marissa Lane might.
* * *
MARISSA COULDN’T DROP the creepy sensation of being watched. Knowing a psychopath had been in her room had shaken her far worse than the attempted abduction. At least during the attack, she was aware of his presence, but he’d been inside her home. He’d been in her room. The contents of her overnight bag grew heavy on her lap. Had he looked inside her drawers? Touched her things? How long had he been planning to take her? How did he find her home? Endless questions ran rampant through her mind as she bounced on the passenger side of Blake’s truck, feeling thoroughly violated.
Blake pulled into the parking spot beside a black town car at Blue Ridge Lodge and climbed out. He shook hands with a man in a gray suit standing outside the door to room one-eleven. They looked at Marissa through the windshield, mouths moving, eyes appraising.
She redirected her attention to the scenery. Blue Ridge Lodge was gorgeous and nestled in the mountains where she’d practiced rock climbing and spelunking throughout high school. She’d long ago mastered the climbs and adventures the area had to offer, but back in the day, those hills were a great source of victory and self-confidence. If only she’d taken more photos of the excursions.
Blake lumbered toward the passenger door and pulled it open. “How are you holding up?”
She ducked her chin. “Okay.”
Sympathy swam in his eyes. He moved away from the open door so she could climb down. “There’s nothing we can do until the last of the divers arrive except keep you out of sight. The sheriff’s department’s on the lookout for Nash. My men are canvassing local hotels and campgrounds along with abandoned buildings and cabins. If Nash is still in Cade County, we’ll find him.”
Blake stole the duffel from her hand and hooked it over one broad shoulder. “Let’s go inside. Neither of us have eaten since breakfast and that was one hell of a walk you took me on. Let me order dinner. We’ll eat, and hopefully you can get a little rest while we’re waiting on a new lead.”
Marissa sank her teeth into the thick of her bottom lip and immediately released it. She was too late. Blake’s gaze slid from her mouth to her eyes. He’d noticed her tell. He knew she was nervous. She could lie all day with her tongue, but she had no control over her face. “Okay. Dinner sounds good.” As did a hot shower and fresh clothes. “Thank you.”
She followed him inside the roomy junior suite. A small sitting area with a round table, chairs, couch and television were separated from the bedroom and en suite bath by a set of French doors. Marissa dragged her gaze away from the queen-size bed with notable effort. She told herself it was the fatigue in her bones that wanted her to head that way first, not the small tug in her belly that wondered if Blake preferred to be the big spoon or the little spoon.
He edged past her with the duffel and set it on the bed. “Burgers okay?”
She nodded too quickly, a sure sign of guilt. “Yeah. Good. Thank you. I’m going to shower.” She snatched up the bag and hustled into the bathroom.
Safe behind the closed door, Marissa shed her dirty clothes and climbed into the steamy shower. Hot beads of water pounded against her tired, aching muscles, and she rubbed her eyes as the water ran over her face. The sensation did little to cleanse her mind of numerous inappropriate thoughts about Blake Garrett, the man who set her skin on fire with every smoldering look. She squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto her palm and worked her hair into a lather. Marissa was never plagued by so many inconceivable fantasies. The problem was obviously this awful day. Her emotions were too heightened to share a hotel room with that man. The excess adrenaline and fatigue were producing crazy thoughts. And why was there only one bed?
She rinsed the soap from her hair and body, clearing her skin and mind. There was no chemistry between she and Blake. She’d imagined his heated looks as a means of distraction, a psychological defense mechanism to deal with what had happened that morning. Clearly her subconscious assumed that if the hot FBI agent wanted her, then he’d protect her and she could feel safe.
She stepped onto the bath mat and wrapped a soft terry-cloth towel around her torso. Even if the looks Blake gave her were real, they didn’t mean anything other than he was in possession of a libido. It was practically what the Garretts were known for. And so what? She rubbed her arms and legs vigorously with a second towel. Blake might want her. Short-term, of course. His family was single-minded and the whole town knew it. Married to the endless pursuit of justice. Addicted to the chase. Which was likely the reason Blake hadn’t settled down. He probably wondered where the fun was in pairing up for life. Marissa expected that was where the fun really began, but what did she know?
She wound her hair into the second towel and rubbed a clear spot on the steamed-up mirror. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of her bruised face and throat. Her heart pounded with fresh panic, as if Nash were still with her, pawing at her and looking at her and plotting to kill her if she didn’t keep fighting. She swallowed a sob and turned to sit on the floor, back pressed to the door as tears streamed over her cheeks. No, this wasn’t a day for finding love. This was a day best forgotten.
Thirty minutes later, Marissa dragged herself from the bathroom, clean and dry. Her blond hair fell in soft piles over each shoulder, fluffy from the efforts of a complimentary dryer. She hadn’t packed much makeup, but the lip gloss and mascara had helped her feel a little more human and less hideous despite the raging bruises along her jaw and throat.
Blake’s body went rigid when he saw her.
The room was empty, save for a pair of white takeout bags on the little round table near the front window.
Marissa stared, unmoving. “What’s wrong?”
Blake snapped into action, waving her closer to the table “Nothing. The final divers arrived while you were in the shower. My team went to meet them, but the sun’s setting soon and they’ve postponed until morning. My guys are filling the divers in on what to look for and anything else they need to know. West and Cole have promised to keep me updated on their end.” He settled into a red cushioned chair. “Now, we wait.”
“Will I get to talk to your team when they come back?” She shifted her weight foot to foot. “Not that I plan to badger them or get in the way. I just wonder if I’ll be exiled to the bedroom while you talk shop.”
“We won’t say anything that you can’t hear.”
Meaning they’d wait until she wasn’t around to talk about the classified details, not that they’d be open with her about everything. She mulled that over. “Okay.” She didn’t love being excluded from any information so closely affecting her, but she had to trust Blake to do his job.
“I ordered burgers, fries and malts.” His brows furrowed. “Do you eat this stuff?”
“Comfort food? Absolutely.”
He unpacked the bag and set her burger and fries in front of her.
One whiff was all her body needed to recall its desperation for sustenance. She unraveled the butcher paper and chomped into her sandwich like a ravenous animal.
Blake watched her intently. “I’m feeling less guilty for that cruller. I suppose running five miles uphill before dawn seven days a week earns you plenty of room for burgers.”
She sucked her straw flat, working a taste of chocolate malt into her mouth. “I’ve got good genes.”
“The running doesn’t hurt,” he added. “You hike, bike, swim and scuba?”
“I leaned to scuba dive in college. I did crazy things then. I even tried parasailing and rock climbing.” She chuckled. “I learned that I prefer to be on the ground.”
He pushed a fry between smiling lips. “I’ve never done any of those things, and I’ve always thought of myself as an outdoorsman. You’re raising the bar.”
“You’ll get used to it,” she teased. “Adventuring is my job.”
“Nature photography, right?”
She wiped her mouth and examined Blake’s odd expression. “You look confused.”
“I assumed you took pictures of wildflowers and butterflies.”
She rolled her eyes and went in for another bite of burger. “I get up close and personal with nature. My photos are used for education. Last summer I photographed an eagle’s nest on the summit. It was amazing.”
Blake dropped his napkin on the table. “The summit? That’s one hell of a dangerous climb.” He furrowed his brows. “You must really love what you do.”
“I do.” She smiled. Another thing they had in common. It was no secret Blake loved his job. The pride practically oozed from him when he wore that badge.
Marissa sat back in her chair, allowing her head to roll and her muscles to relax. Slowly, her eyelids drooped shut. Blake cleared his throat, and she jumped. “What happened?”
He stood over her looking inexplicably sad. “You fell asleep sitting up.”
“Oh.” She checked the corners of her mouth for drool. “Sorry. I should go to bed.” She stretched onto her feet, wincing at the pinch of tender muscles in her shoulders and neck.
Blake matched her move. “May I?” He motioned to the place where her hand rested on her bruised neck.
He waited for her to nod before stepping near.
Marissa braced herself to be touched by another towering man today. “Do they put you through medical training at the FBI?”
His warm fingers touched the tender skin of her throat and chin, tipping her head gently for a better look at the wounds. “A little. I think I got more experience growing up a Garrett.” He snorted quietly. “At least one of us boys were in constant need of a cast or stitches for about ten years. Nearly drove my poor mom to drink.”
Marissa smiled, though he couldn’t see her from his new position at her back. She and Kara had been the same way, though their parents were often right beside them.
He circled back to face her. “These bruises are going to look a lot worse before they look better. I can get some ice in here if you want. That might help with swelling.” He widened his stance until his face was nearly level with hers and shined a light in her eyes.
She swatted it away on instinct. “Where’d you get that.”
“Pocket. Hold still and let me look.”
“I don’t have a concussion. I was attacked hours ago. I’m fine. Cole already checked. Remember?”
“You need to clean these abrasions.”
“I did.”
Blake straightened and cocked a brow. “When?”
“Bathroom. I never leave home without a first aid kit. The cuts are cleaned. They’re already beginning to scab. I’m fine.”
“That’s what you keep saying. Did Cole offer to get a female medic to give you a more thorough evaluation?”
She sighed. “I’m. Fine. What happens to you now? Will someone come to relieve you so you can go home and sleep?”
“I don’t sleep much.” He walked her to the bedroom and made a slow circuit through the room, peeking into the bathroom before returning to the doorway. “I’ll wake you if anything significant happens.”
Marissa dawdled, frightened by the prospect of being alone.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
Blake nodded toward the sound. “Tell your family I said everything’s going to be okay.” He pulled the door shut behind him as he left.
Marissa climbed into the waiting arms of a comfortable queen-size bed and rolled onto her back. She lifted her cell phone into view and swiped the screen to life. She didn’t recognize the number on her new text message, but she opened it anyway.
Panic swelled in her chest and throat as she stared at the image of herself enveloped in Blake’s strong arms. The photograph was clearly taken from outside her bedroom window only hours earlier.
And the message read, Consider this Agent Garrett’s invitation to the wedding.
