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Authors: Lisa Gardner
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cars. Crickets. The wind in the trees.
But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The night had gone completely, deathly still.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Tina said weakly.
Then she heard a twig snap. And then she saw his face.
Pale, somber, maybe even gentle above the black collar of his turtleneck. How in the world could someone wear a turtleneck in this heat? Tina thought.
Then, he hefted up the rifle and leveled it against his shoulder.
Tina stopped thinking. She bolted for the trees.
“Stop laughing. Why are you laughing? Hey, stop!”
The man laughed harder, a steady ripple of spasms moving down his large frame and tossing her from side to side as easily as if she were a small boat caught in a rough wake. “Toppled by a woman,” he gasped with an unmistakable Southern accent. “Oh, please, honey . . . don’t tell my sister.”
His sister? What the hell?
“All right. That’s it. Move one more muscle and I will slit your throat.” Kimberly must’ve sounded more impressive this time. The man finally stopped laughing. That was better. “Name?” she asked crisply.
“Special Agent Michael McCormack. But you can call me Mac.”
Kimberly’s eyes widened. She had a sudden bad feeling. “FBI?” she whispered. Oh no, she’d taken out a fellow agent. Probably her future boss. She wondered who would make the call to her father.
“You know, Quincy old fellow, you were a star among stars here at the Bureau; but I’m afraid your daughter is just too, er,
freaky
for us.”
“Georgia Bureau of Investigation,” the man drawled. “State police. We’ve always had a soft spot for the Bureau, though, so we stole your titles.”
“You little—” She was so angry she couldn’t think of a word. She whacked his shoulder with her left hand, then remembered, oh yeah, she had a knife. “You’re with the National Academy,” she accused him, in the same tone of voice others used for addressing vermin.
“And you’re a new agent . . . obviously.”
“Hey, I still have a knife at your throat, mister!”
“I know.” He frowned at her, his easy tone throwing her for another loop. Was it her imagination, or had he just shifted to get more comfortable beneath her? “Why are you carrying a knife?”
“They took away my Glock,” she said without thinking.
“Of course.” He nodded as if she were a very wise person, instead of a highly paranoid aspiring federal agent. “If I might ask a personal question, ma’am. Umm, where do you hide the blade?”
“I beg your pardon!” She could definitely feel his gaze on her body now, and she immediately blushed. It was hot. She’d been working out . . . So the nylon shorts and thin blue T-shirt didn’t cover much. She was training after hours, for God’s sake, not preparing for an interview. Besides, it was amazing the things you could strap to the inside of your thigh.
“Why did you chase me?” she demanded, pressing the tip of her knife deeper against his throat.
“Why did you run?”
She scowled, pursed her lips, then tried another tack. “What are you doing out here?”
“Saw the light. Thought I’d better investigate.”
“Ah ha! So I’m not the only one who’s paranoid.”
“That’s true, ma’am. It would appear that we’re both equally paranoid. I can’t stand the heat. What’s your story?”
“I don’t have a story!”
“Fair enough. You’re the one with the knife after all.”
He fell silent and seemed to be waiting for her to do something. Which was an interesting point. What was she going to do now? New Agent Kimberly Quincy has just made her first apprehension. Unfortunately, he was a fellow law enforcement officer whose title was already bigger than hers.
Damn. Double damn. God, she was tired.
All at once, the last of the adrenaline left her, and her body, pushed too hard too fast, simply collapsed. She slid off the man’s chest and let her aching limbs sprawl in the relative comfort of
But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The night had gone completely, deathly still.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Tina said weakly.
Then she heard a twig snap. And then she saw his face.
Pale, somber, maybe even gentle above the black collar of his turtleneck. How in the world could someone wear a turtleneck in this heat? Tina thought.
Then, he hefted up the rifle and leveled it against his shoulder.
Tina stopped thinking. She bolted for the trees.
“Stop laughing. Why are you laughing? Hey, stop!”
The man laughed harder, a steady ripple of spasms moving down his large frame and tossing her from side to side as easily as if she were a small boat caught in a rough wake. “Toppled by a woman,” he gasped with an unmistakable Southern accent. “Oh, please, honey . . . don’t tell my sister.”
His sister? What the hell?
“All right. That’s it. Move one more muscle and I will slit your throat.” Kimberly must’ve sounded more impressive this time. The man finally stopped laughing. That was better. “Name?” she asked crisply.
“Special Agent Michael McCormack. But you can call me Mac.”
Kimberly’s eyes widened. She had a sudden bad feeling. “FBI?” she whispered. Oh no, she’d taken out a fellow agent. Probably her future boss. She wondered who would make the call to her father.
“You know, Quincy old fellow, you were a star among stars here at the Bureau; but I’m afraid your daughter is just too, er,
freaky
for us.”
“Georgia Bureau of Investigation,” the man drawled. “State police. We’ve always had a soft spot for the Bureau, though, so we stole your titles.”
“You little—” She was so angry she couldn’t think of a word. She whacked his shoulder with her left hand, then remembered, oh yeah, she had a knife. “You’re with the National Academy,” she accused him, in the same tone of voice others used for addressing vermin.
“And you’re a new agent . . . obviously.”
“Hey, I still have a knife at your throat, mister!”
“I know.” He frowned at her, his easy tone throwing her for another loop. Was it her imagination, or had he just shifted to get more comfortable beneath her? “Why are you carrying a knife?”
“They took away my Glock,” she said without thinking.
“Of course.” He nodded as if she were a very wise person, instead of a highly paranoid aspiring federal agent. “If I might ask a personal question, ma’am. Umm, where do you hide the blade?”
“I beg your pardon!” She could definitely feel his gaze on her body now, and she immediately blushed. It was hot. She’d been working out . . . So the nylon shorts and thin blue T-shirt didn’t cover much. She was training after hours, for God’s sake, not preparing for an interview. Besides, it was amazing the things you could strap to the inside of your thigh.
“Why did you chase me?” she demanded, pressing the tip of her knife deeper against his throat.
“Why did you run?”
She scowled, pursed her lips, then tried another tack. “What are you doing out here?”
“Saw the light. Thought I’d better investigate.”
“Ah ha! So I’m not the only one who’s paranoid.”
“That’s true, ma’am. It would appear that we’re both equally paranoid. I can’t stand the heat. What’s your story?”
“I don’t have a story!”
“Fair enough. You’re the one with the knife after all.”
He fell silent and seemed to be waiting for her to do something. Which was an interesting point. What was she going to do now? New Agent Kimberly Quincy has just made her first apprehension. Unfortunately, he was a fellow law enforcement officer whose title was already bigger than hers.
Damn. Double damn. God, she was tired.
All at once, the last of the adrenaline left her, and her body, pushed too hard too fast, simply collapsed. She slid off the man’s chest and let her aching limbs sprawl in the relative comfort of
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