Read Online Cold Fear by Toni Anderson - Free Book Online

freaked at the idea of the Feds staying here. She must have come back here when she’d left the party without Helena—and Izzy doubted she’d been alone.
    Ted cautiously sniffed the air. “When was the last time you were in here?”
    “Over a month ago.” Bitterness leaked into her tone. “If the FBI weren’t here I’d kill her myself.” She flinched at her poor choice of words.
    Ted chuckled and started opening the windows.
    It was going to take a hell of a lot of air freshener to mask this odor. “If she has a boyfriend and is having sex in this cottage…” Izzy’s fingers clenched with frustration at all the things she couldn’t control.
    “She’s seventeen, Iz-biz. Didn’t you have a boyfriend when you were seventeen?”
    The comment was like a knife to her flesh. Her eyes flashed to his, but he was unrepentant. “And look how that ended.” Shane had been seventeen when he’d wrapped his car around a telephone pole—driving drunk and going way too fast. Another painful memory she’d unsuccessfully tried to outrun.
    She shook it off. It had happened a long time ago. She was tired and angry and miserable. She dumped the linens on the couch and dug under the kitchen sink for rubber gloves and a spray bottle of cleaner. Other people had it far worse than she did, she reminded herself.
    Her mind flashed to Duncan Cromwell’s futile attempts to raise Helena from the dead. Dear God. Her heart lurched. Her sister sneaking off to parties and apparently smoking weed, and acting out, weren’t so bad when you stacked them up against that. But they were issues Izzy would have to deal with. And right now she didn’t have the energy, or the expertise.
    She sprayed all the counters and began wiping them down.
    “Need any help?” asked Ted.
    “I can manage.”
    “I’ll just stand here and watch you then.” He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets and slouched against the living room wall.
    She grunted, then found another pair of gloves under the sink and tossed them at him. “Fine, start in the bathroom. There’s disinfectant under the vanity.”
    Ted grinned. “Was that so hard?”
    Asking for help didn’t come easy. Delegating stuff at work was different. Everyone had a role to play there. Everyone had a responsibility they were trained and got paid for. She checked her watch. “Look, I’m back on duty in a little over ninety minutes. I need the smell of pot out of the air, beds made and the place clean enough for two FBI agents to move in shortly thereafter. Pitch in or leave me alone. I don’t have time for chitchat.”
    Ted chuckled as he headed to the back of the house. “You always were a sweet-talker, Isadora Campbell. It’s a wonder men aren’t queuing up around the block to take you out on a date.”
    She straightened up to hurl an insult at him, but snapped her lips closed. He was right, so why bother arguing. She didn’t do sweet-talk. She was a realist. A pragmatist. She didn’t stroke egos or waste her time gossiping. She didn’t angle for information unless it pertained to her job or her sister, and apparently she was even crap at that because she knew very little about Kit’s life.
    In the military Izzy had easily blended into the system and become an integral part of the machine. In the civilian world she intimidated people, especially men. Or she wasn’t attracted to the ones who were brave enough to ask her out. Hank, for example. And she wasn’t the type to be worn down by repeated asking. She was built stubborn, and that was a good thing.
    She was fine on her own.
    She frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d actually gone on a date. While she was in the Army, that was for sure. Well over a year ago. And as for sex…she snorted as she wiped under the toaster. If it were up to her, homo sapiens would be well on their way to extinction. She’d been in a few relationships over the years, and sex was a good way to relieve stress, which was important when the world