Cold in the Shadows 5 (14 page)

Big sacrifice—he rolled his eyes at himself. “So, who’d she call?” The cell phone had been left lying around as bait but she’d gotten to it way faster than he’d anticipated. Parker was tracing any numbers she called, though she’d been blocked from actually making contact.

“Nine-one-one, her parents, and an ex-boyfriend.”

Killion didn’t like the unpleasant surprise of the latter. He hadn’t thought there was anyone special in her life from the background checks he’d run on her. “Who?”

“Devon Brightman.”

She’d dated Devon for a few months more than four years ago. Why call him?

“Interestingly Devon’s father was a friend of Senator Burger’s. So we’re going to look into him further.”

They finally had a tangible link between Audrey and Burger, even if it was a tenuous one. So why did he feel disappointed?

“What’s the plan?” Jed asked. “You letting her sweat?”

Killion thought about the way her damp hair had stuck to her forehead when she’d been delirious with fever and closed his eyes. Crap. He’d really thought she was going to die for a while there. He hadn’t liked the idea. Not at all. “I don’t think sweating it out will work with this one. She’s pissed. Already figured out I was CIA.”

“But you still think she’s innocent?” Jed sounded dubious.

“She’s whip-smart and overheard a conversation she shouldn’t have. Put two and two together. It was sloppy. Nothing I can do about it. What’s the other news?”

“The Colombians have issued an international warrant for her arrest for the murder of the student.”

Ah, shit. Audrey was fucked.

“So what
is
the next move?” Jed asked again.

Killion heard the uncertainty in Jed’s voice. Did the guy really expect him to make her hold a stress position when she could barely walk ten steps? Maybe force the truth out of her by threatening the people she loved? He’d done plenty of things he wasn’t proud of but he couldn’t do anything like that to Audrey—and she sure as hell better not figure that out or he was screwed.

Bottom line was, he’d never physically hurt a woman. He wasn’t about to start now. “What’s the profile of your typical hired killer?” he asked instead.

“You actually want me to do what I’m paid for?”

“You’re talking to a spook who is playing nursemaid to a sick woman, so stop whining.”

“Murder-for-hire. There’s no general psychological profile. Despite what you see on TV most murderers for hire aren’t that bright. They don’t cover their tracks, they brag about their kills and then they get caught. They tend to be men, younger than the so-called mastermind and often have criminal records. Whoever killed Burger doesn’t fall into that category. Firstly, the killer was female, which is unusual. It was more like a targeted political assassination and the killer was a professional—probably government trained?”

But which government?

“Could the killer be cartel?” Killion was searching for a way for this to make sense.

“Sure, but I don’t see them training a woman like Lockhart. I mean, when? Where?”

Frazer’s team had gone through Audrey’s background in intricate detail. She hadn’t had time to fit assassin training into her academic schedule. But backgrounds could be faked. The CIA did it every day.

“Maybe they threatened someone she loved?” Parents, sister, nephew?

“Because she just happened to work with the deadliest creature on earth and her former boyfriend’s dad was a friend of Senator Burger? Seems like a stretch.” Jed paused. “The best bet for finding a killer is usually by looking at the victim. But Burger had so many enemies that doesn’t help us.”

There was also the five hundred grand in the Caymans registered to an account in Audrey’s name, but that could also be a set up. Frankly, Ted Burger had been such a world-class asshole a lot of people would have killed him for free. And surely a woman with a Ph.D. would be smart enough to use a shell company to cover her tracks?

Killion tossed back the rest of his drink. “I need a few more days. Maybe spending time with me will make her so desperate to get out of here she’ll confess to everything.”

“As good a plan as any.”

“Thanks for the ringing endorsement, pal.”

“You getting itchy feet?”

Downtime was not something Killion did well. Last time he’d taken time off was for a broken ulna. He’d lasted twelve hours. “I think we’re missing something and being purposely misled. Rather than being able to track down information I’m sitting here with my thumb up my ass, playing nursemaid.”

“We’re working all the angles.”

Killion grunted.

“What’s the problem?”

Killion poured himself another shot of bourbon. There were too many problems to count. “All the facts point to Audrey.”

“And?”

“Even the facts that we know aren’t true point to Audrey.”

“Like the dead student?”

Who she still didn’t know about. “Yeah. And if I hadn’t been Johnny-on-the-spot when Hector tried to off her we’d probably have believed any tale they spun. If they can set that up, maybe they can set up the rest.” He stabbed two potatoes with a fork, wrapped them each in tin foil. He didn’t know how much Audrey might be able to eat but she had to try to regain her strength—probably so she could verbally beat the shit out of him. “Something about this whole thing isn’t adding up.” And it bothered him too much to ignore. The microwave dinged for the steak. “Make sure you tell that beautiful interpreter of yours that it’s not too late to have a chance with me if she’s changed her mind about you.”

“You’ve got more chance of leading the Mars mission.”

Killion grinned. Thinking about it, when they first met, Vivi had looked at him the same way Audrey looked at him after she’d realized he wasn’t taking her to the cops or letting her go. Like he was something nasty that needed scraped from the sole of her shoe. It was not the usual effect he had on women. Women liked him. He had a smile that promised a good time and the patience to deliver. Apparently Vivi and Audrey were both immune to his charm. Smart ladies.

He said goodbye to Jed and tossed back the rest of his drink. The heat of the liquor warmed his throat and the relaxed feeling it evoked made him want to pour himself another and just get trashed. Instead he checked the steak. He’d need all his faculties to get through the next few days and figure out exactly what information his captive held. Guilty or not, he had a feeling Audrey’s life depended on him finding the answers.

*     *     *

A
UDREY PUSHED HERSELF
up in the bed and blinked herself awake. She’d slept most of the day and felt more refreshed than earlier, less blitzed. Before going to sleep she’d found underwear and a pair of workout shorts in the dresser and borrowed them with a silent apology to the owner.

She needed all her wits to cope with this man and couldn’t afford to be distracted by her lack of clothes. He was scary intelligent and not afraid to break the rules to get what he wanted. She wasn’t used to dealing with this sort of man on any level, she hadn’t even had a boyfriend in eighteen months. Her last long-term relationship had been a disaster when the guy had turned out to be screwing a summer student even though they were dating. Before that had been Devon. It had taken months to realize they were drawn together by loss and grief, and had zero chemistry. Not the healthiest of foundations. She was grateful they were still good friends, especially now that he was dating her sister, but she wished that part of her relationship history had never happened.

Relationships came with too heavy a price and she wasn’t willing to pay it anymore. Nowadays, Audrey preferred to be alone.

Why was she thinking about
relationships
and
dating
?

The sound of the lock turning, followed by a knock on the door startled her. Patrick stuck his head in warily as if expecting her to throw something at him again. His hair was a little rumpled as if he’d been napping too. Bed head suited him. She suspected there weren’t many situations where the spook didn’t look like some purposely ruffled model from a men’s cologne ad.

Patrick had said he wasn’t fussy about the women he slept with, but she knew the type of women men like him dated. The beautiful ones, the ones who worked out daily and got their faces airbrushed into place every morning. She rarely even bothered with make-up. Her frogs didn’t care.

Why was she thinking about looks? Heat flooded her cheeks and she gripped the sheets. Looks were irrelevant. First chance she got she was going to scream bloody murder to anyone who’d listen.

“Truce?” He was clearly feeling out her mood.

She glared at him then remembered that old saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar. Plus, she didn’t have the energy to fight. She had nothing to lose by putting away her hostility as long as she kept up her guard. “Fine.”

“I made dinner.”

She hugged her knees tight to her chest. “I’m not hungry.”

Beneath an unbuttoned shirt, a rumpled tee stretched over his well-defined chest. She tried not to notice.

“You’ve gotta eat. Build up your strength before you waste away.”

“You sound like my mother.” Her poor mother fussing over her sister who’d rather smoke crack than eat a proper meal or look after her two-year-old son. Sadness settled under her ribs. Audrey wasn’t big on self-pity, but after being stabbed and abducted—by a helicopter full of black ops soldiers she remembered suddenly—she’d earned a little feel-sorry-for-herself time.

And now it was over. Time to move forward, stop moping and figure a way out of this mess. The only person going to take care of her was her and she’d better start now. She threw back the covers and Patrick took in her new clothes with a carefully blank expression. She was beginning to see he revealed more in those moments when he hid everything, than in the rest of their time together.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom.” She went to turn away but a memory stopped her cold. He’d helped her to the bathroom on several occasions, waiting outside the door before helping her back to bed. She glanced back over her shoulder, seeing him differently this time.

He’d taken care of her.

Memories flooded in as she stared at him. The endless sips of cool water. Sponging her brow with a wet cloth. The feeling of flying when he carried her because she was too weak to walk on her own. The tired lines around his eyes were from lack of sleep because he’d been by her side the entire time she’d been sick. The
entire
time.

“It was cold,” she said.

A slight crinkle formed between his brows. He didn’t understand.

“When you put me in the tub the water was cold…” She swallowed her confusion.

“You were burning up. I didn’t know what else to do.” From the wary expression in his eyes he thought she was about to get mad again.

She remembered something else. Pressing as close as she could get to a big warm body, and that body wrapping around her until heat suffused her bones and her teeth stopped rattling.

He’d saved her life. For all the wrong reasons, but he had saved her life. Maybe it was a starting point.

“Thank you,” she said slowly. “For taking care of me.”

He watched her, eyes guarded. Gave her a small nod. “Come on out when you’re ready. We can eat in the kitchen.”

Audrey went into the bathroom and closed the door. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Snippets of memory were reappearing and they didn’t jive with someone about to force information out of her.

He’d never admitted to being an interrogator.

He’d never admitted to being anything at all.

She used the facilities and washed her hands. The mirror over the sink revealed a gaunt oval face. Messy hair. Dark circles under her eyes over ivory pale skin. She squinted. She looked exactly like what she was. A serious-minded scientist recovering from a severe illness. She didn’t look like some crazy killer.

Why did he think she was? There had to be a logical explanation.

Why had someone from the
Mano de Dios
stabbed her? It had to be a case of mistaken identity, right? Excitement burst through her. This was something they could fix. And she could go back to her life as soon as the misunderstanding was cleared up.

She splashed her face with cold water and her stomach growled. For the first time in days she was actually hungry. Drying herself she padded barefoot into the bedroom. Already feeling tired from this small exertion, she headed through the door and found her captor in the kitchen, buttering a piece of toast. It was dark outside. They must have both slept the day away. He’d laid out two place settings. One had a glass of water and a plate with half a potato and three thin slices of meat. The other had a large steak, loaded baked potato, and peas. A bottle of beer was front and center.

“Take a seat.” He indicated a stool at the kitchen island and plunked the buttered toast beside her plate. “I wasn’t sure what you might want.”

“This is great. Thanks.” She climbed gingerly into the chair and looked around. “This is a beautiful place. Is it yours?”

He shook his head. “You want anything else to drink? There’s juice, milk, tea, coffee. I’m withholding alcohol until further notice.”

She smiled even though he avoided answering her question. She wrapped her fingers around the cool glass and tried not to resent him. “Water’s fine.”

He sat kitty-corner to her and it felt weird. Like they were suddenly supposed to pretend to be two normal people when everything leading to this moment had been extraordinary.

The silence got louder and louder until she couldn’t stand it any longer. “So, where’d you grow up?”

He swigged his beer. “California. You?”

She picked up the toast, wondering if he was telling the truth and how you’d ever really know with a man like him. “I assume you know. In fact, I assume you know everything about me from my dental history to my menstrual cycle.”

He winced. “Not quite. But I know a lot. Born in Montana, moved to Kentucky when you were twelve. Still living and working in the Bluegrass State except for when you’re down in Colombia doing your funky frog thing.”