Tactical Advantage (8 page)

“If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” She wasn’t sure if it was reassuring or disconcerting to learn that Nick didn’t understand this weird chemistry that had developed over the past six hours, either.

And then, with a deep exhale that fluttered across her cheek like long-suffering resignation, Nick leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. For one startled moment, Annie froze. Her eyes opened wide, tilting up to seek his. But then his fingers tunneled ever so gently into her hair and he drifted closer, urging her head back, demanding a response.

Her eyes shuttered at the curious intent of his lips moving over hers, coaxing her to give in to the taste of his tongue sliding across the seam of her mouth. Daring her to ignore the electricity of the charged air that separated their bodies by mere inches. Inviting her to join him in this little bit of crazy.

Annie’s surrender was slow in coming, but surprisingly eager once the walls of logic and routine guarding her actions crumbled and an answering desire surged through her blood. Her fingers curled into the buttery-soft leather of Nick’s jacket, and her mouth softened to cling to the firm heat of his kiss.

Random observations flowed through her senses and imprinted on the brain cells inside her head—coffee and sweet cake flavored his tongue. His lips were supple, masculine, thorough. The stubble that rasped against her skin was prickly soft and scented like crisp winter air and earthy heat.

She hadn’t kissed a man since the debacle of Adam dumping her. And she’d never been kissed with the raw, driving need that powered Nick Fensom’s kiss. She wasn’t sure how to answer that kind of potent emotion other than to hold on with both hands and answer every exploration of his tongue, every press of his lips, every breath, every pulse beat. Her hips hit the table behind her. The floor swirled beneath her feet. His heat swallowed her up.

This was all too fast. Too much. Totally wrong.

His hand slid behind her waist, anchoring the swell of her bottom as his thighs butted into hers. A guttural noise hummed in her throat as Nick’s chest rubbed against hers, seeking contact through the layers of coats and clothing they wore. The tips of her breasts sprang to attention. Arrows of fire zinged through her body from his chest to his fingers to his lips and everywhere in between. She’d never felt this aware. This alive. This right.

His fingers tightened against her scalp, accidentally tugging her hair.

“Ow.”

“I’m sorry.” He shifted both hands to cup her face, taking another kiss between each apology. “Sorry. So sorry.”

But the sharp jab of pain beneath her bandage was the wake-up call Annie needed. Her murky thoughts cleared as though an overhang of snow had just plopped inside the collar of her coat.

Kissing Nick Fensom—kissing anyone like this—was completely out of character for her. And a huge mistake on so many levels.

She pushed with the fists bunched in the front of his jacket, opened her eyes—both literally and figuratively—and dropped her chin to pull her mouth from his.
Stop.
The plea stuck in her parched throat. Her reaction made no practical sense. She was grappling with Nick in a tiny hospital exam room the same way Roy and his girl friend du jour had been ringing in the New Year outside her apartment door. And they’d been drunk.

Annie knew better.

“Nick...”
Oh, snap.
Yes, that breathless gasp had come from her throat. Since when did she do
breathless?
What kind of sense did that make—to forgo reason and slip so far out of control? She made such an easy mark for future awkwardness, hurt and humiliation. Pride gave her a little bit of backbone. Remembered abandonment and disappointments gave her something more. Annie tilted her face to Nick. “What was that?”

His chest heaved in and out as he spread his arms out to either side, stepping back as if he’d been called on some kind of charging-into-personal-space foul. “A kiss?” His gaze zeroed in on her parted lips and silent pants, perhaps assessing her reaction. “What did you think it was?”

Some subconscious part of her brain must have broadcast encouragement because he shifted his stance and leaned in again. But that impulsive part of her brain didn’t get to be in charge. Not for long. And neither did Nick. With a resolute huff that denied him any further welcome, she palmed the center of his chest and pushed him firmly away. Annie needed cool air between them, room to think and prioritize.

“I’m asking
why
. For months now we’ve barely gotten along at work, and now you...”

“Seriously? You can turn it on and off just like that?” He raked his fingers through his hair, turning away, then facing her again. “You ask too many questions.”

“You kissed me out of guilt. Or you needed consoling because you were worried about your sister.”

“Consoling?”

“Stress makes people do things they normally wouldn’t. It could have been leftover adrenaline or...” She swallowed her next hypothesis and concentrated on what was really important here. Whatever was behind that kiss didn’t matter. “I need to get to the lab. So if you want to help me—”

“The men you date must be gluttons for punishment.”

“I don’t date. I don’t make out like some kind of hormonally charged teenager with a man I can’t stand, either.”

“Can’t stand?” With a deliberate flick of his wrists, Nick smoothed out his jacket where she’d crushed it in her fists. “You seemed to like me well enough a second ago.”

“I work.” Ignoring the obvious, uncomfortable proof of her willing participation in that embrace, Annie tried to reestablish order in her world. “I focus on my work. I get results. I find answers. I
need
answers.”

He propped his hands on his hips, assuming the adversarial stance she was more familiar with. “All work and no play? Sounds lonely.”

He had no idea. But at least she wasn’t hurting the way she had a year earlier, or even ten years ago when her parents had died. “Nick, that can’t happen again. We have a job to do. You have to promise.”

With unblinking intensity, those blue eyes studied every nuance of her expression. Annie curled her fingers around her bag, fighting the urge to look away from the probing assessment.

“You are some piece of work, Annie Hermann. A lot more complicated than anything I’m used to.” And then, for some inexplicable reason, he grinned. “Keeps me on my toes, I guess.” The sudden lightness in his expression was so surprising that she didn’t immediately protest when he pried her fingers from her purse. Wrapping his hand around hers, he pulled her toward the hallway. “Let’s go run the gauntlet.”

“Your family?”

“I heard my mom and grandma mention something about chicken soup.”

“For me?” Annie stopped in her tracks, pulling her hand free. The Fensom family was Nick times ten. And he was more than enough for her solitary self to deal with right now.

Nick turned with a weary sigh. “Is friendly concern against your scientific principles, too? You know, sometimes people just do what feels right. They don’t stop to calculate how it’s going to affect the future. My family’s like that. They’re good people.”

“I wasn’t insulting them. But we just met. They don’t even know me.”

“Call it guilt by association. If I’m taking care of you, they’ll want to help, too.”

“Why?”

“Damn it, woman...” His hands sliced through the air, emphasizing the frustration in his tone. “There isn’t always a reason. It’s just what families do. They support each other.”

“I’m not family.”

The frank, unadorned statement halted the hand-speak and softened his expression. “If I promise not to let them all show up on your doorstep at the same time, will you stop arguing every little thing and just let me take you home?”

“To the lab,” she corrected him.

His shoulders deflated with a weary sigh. But those blue eyes were smiling. “Right. I’m driving you to the lab. Come on, slugger.”

This time, he didn’t try to take her hand. Instead, he shortened his stride to walk beside her into the hospital’s waiting room. And as the greeting and concern of Nick’s family swarmed around them again, Annie was painfully aware that while he offered her the support of a comrade-in-arms, he’d never made that promise not to kiss her again.

Chapter Five

“Are you sure you want to chauffeur me around for another twenty-four hours? Maybe you need to check in on your sister. You haven’t seen your family all day. Or eaten a meal.”

Seriously? She was going to try that cutesy schtick on him now? Nick shifted the Jeep into Park, ignoring Annie’s winsome smile. Ceaseless debate hadn’t gotten rid of him at the hospital or the crime lab, and feminine charm wasn’t going to dissuade him now.

“You asking me out to dinner?”

“No.”

“Do you have a car to get to work in the morning?”

“No, but that’s because you wouldn’t take me to mine.” She pointed to the brownstone apartments across the street. “You know, once I’m inside, I can still call a cab and go get my car after you leave.”

“No, you won’t.”

Annie muttered something distinctly unfeminine and sank back in her seat. “You
are
leaving, right?”

Nick leaned back in the heated seat, surveying the fenced-in parking lot with its empty guard booth and security gate where he’d swiped her resident card to raise the plastic guardrail that was more about privacy than protection. Frustration radiated off her in waves at his silence, and Nick grinned. If she hadn’t learned yet what a stubborn son of a gun he was, she’d understand soon enough.

The light at the far end of the lot flickered on and off with the gusting night wind, and the streetlamps outside the lot were spaced far enough apart that they left plenty of shadows where a perp could scale the fence without being seen to jack a car, do some vandalism or commit an even more personal crime. He’d be on some landlord’s case about standard safety expectations if any of his sisters lived here.

The smile was back when she tried to reason him out of his protective penance again. “You said you live over near Raytown. No way is this a convenient drive from there.”

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw and watched the flakes of snow gather on his windshield where they melted and ran down to pool against the wipers. He was bone tired, in sore need of a shave and in no mood to go another verbal round with Annie. But the woman wouldn’t quit.

“I can take Blue Ridge Cutoff by the stadium and get home in no time. It’s not like there’ll be any baseball games there this time of year to back up traffic.” He thought she’d been mulling over the crime scene pictures she’d copied at the lab once Mac Taylor had cleared her camera and pulled the memory card for her. But maybe she’d spent the last twenty minutes of the drive across town cooking up ways to get him out of her personal space. Like that was going to happen. “Besides, you’re downtown, practically at the back door of precinct headquarters here. Once I pick you up in the morning, the drive to work will take us no time.”

Did she just roll those amber eyes? His sister Nell had an irritating penchant for doing that. But Nick couldn’t recall ever being this aware of his sister’s eyes. Annie’s were darker now, like a fine whiskey. Did she even know how their color changed, from light golden hazel to nearly brown, according to her mood? And why did
he
know that? He was beginning to think the sparks that had been flying between them for months now—since being assigned to the same task force—had more to do with some sort of dormant attraction that was waking, despite his best efforts, than it did with any differences in their personalities or investigative styles.

Annie’s scent filled up the closed space of the car—a mix of antiseptic from the lab and something more subtle, like lavender and vanilla, that stirred the air with every bounce of those dark, velvety curls. He was a damn fool for noticing all those little feminine details about the eccentric scientist. This crazy pull to the woman stewing in the seat across from him could become as dangerous a distraction as his worry over Jordan Garza dating his sister.

And while Nick had made the mistake of letting personal feelings get in the way of doing his job once already today, he wasn’t about to make that mistake a second time. No matter how the complex, combative brunette got under his skin and messed with his head, he was determined to watch over her.

With that much of a New Year’s resolution firmly in place, Nick turned off the engine and opened the door to let a blast of frigid air swirl in to cleanse Annie’s fragrance from his car and his senses.

Tightening the scarf his mother had knitted him for Christmas around his neck, Nick hunched his shoulders against the cold and circled the car. Before he could reach her side, Annie was already out, opening the back door to retrieve the new evidence kit she’d brought home from the crime lab. Next thing he knew, she was striding toward the exit gate.

Nick locked up the Jeep and hurried to catch up. “Where are you going so fast?”

“Um, home?” She trudged through the ankle-deep snow gathering on the sidewalk. “Thanks for dropping me off. See you in the morning. Good night.”

He plucked the boxy black case from her hand and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. “I’ll walk you in.”

“Give me that.” Although she tugged against his grip, Nick’s hand didn’t budge. “The doctor didn’t say anything about my not being able to walk.”

“I want to get a look at your place, see what kind of security you’ve got.” He paused to look both ways along the vehicle-lined street before plunging into the snow that drifted against the curb. It was an old habit of his from his tenure working gang enforcement to count cars and make a quick scan of models and colors. That’s when he noticed the two men sitting in the black SUV half a block away. “Hell of a cold night to spend it waiting in a car.”

“Then go home where it’s warm. May I have my kit, please?”

He tipped his head toward the SUV. “I’m talking about those guys. Do you know them?”

She leaned forward to peek around him. “I don’t think so. But it’s too dark to get a good look at their faces.”

“That’s why you need more lights around here,” he muttered. “What about the car?”

“It doesn’t look familiar. But then, I don’t know everyone in the neighborhood.” Suddenly, her fingers had glommed onto the sleeve of his jacket. “You don’t think it’s him, do you? The man from the alley? Did he and his partner follow us?”

Nick eased the death grip on his sleeve and pulled her into step beside him to cross the street. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. While you were busy thinking up ways to get rid of me, I was watching the traffic. No black SUV on our tail.”

“Then it’s probably just a coincidence that he’s here, right?” Nick didn’t like coincidences. “Right?”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” he advised, forcing her shorter legs to hustle a little faster. “Don’t stand around analyzing things. That gives anyone watching you the same time to observe your actions and plan their strategy. Make quick impressions and keep moving.”

“Analyzing things is what I do.”

“In the lab, but not when it involves personal safety.” Unsure whether the men were simply waiting for their car to warm up before driving it, or if they were up to something more sinister by lurking in the shadows, Nick tried to make out a plate number he could call in. No good. He’d have to come back out and check on the SUV once Annie was secure in her apartment. “I suppose if the lot’s full, you park out here on the street and walk past all these cars?”

“Aren’t you being a little paranoid? I was perfectly safe in the lab all day, even without your pacing the hallways, asking coworkers to identify themselves and making them nervous.”

“Besides you and Mac Taylor, I saw three people in that whole building today. Raj Kapoor who brought in the tarps from the alley and processed them with you, the guy finishing up paperwork in his office on the fourth floor and the guard at the front desk. That’s another thing—there’s safety in numbers. I know you like that whole leave-me-alone-and-let-me-do-my-work thing, but you make less of a target if you’ve got some backup with you.”

“Why would I be a target?”

“Let’s see. You’ve been attacked once already—”

“That man was stealing evidence. It wasn’t about me.”

“You’re a successful professional. The type of woman the Rose Red Rapist targets. Maybe you should watch out for him.” To date, their unsub hadn’t discriminated in looks or ethnicity when choosing his victims. The common denominator seemed to be his penchant for brutalizing strong women—and this one’s obstinate will certainly qualified her.

Snowplow crews had been through here at least once in the past few hours to clear the street, creating deep snowbanks around the cars that hadn’t been moved since the winter storm had begun before the New Year last night. Nick stomped a path through a drift to reach the curb, feeling the snow cling to his jeans and chill his legs. He kicked aside the tiny avalanche that spilled onto the sidewalk and turned back to reach for Annie’s hand. “Watch your step.”

Despite the murderous glare in her eyes, Annie was practical enough to fold her fingers into his, holding on for balance while she made the precarious climb to the sidewalk. “This is the wrong place for him,” she reasoned. “He likes the uptown district where all the outsiders are pouring in their money to revitalize the historic buildings and bring back the neighborhood. Besides, he went after Rachel Dunbar last night. It’s not his pattern to strike again so soon.”

“His pattern changed when Dunbar died. Who knows when he’ll strike again.”

She paused in the middle of the snowbank. The defiance in her tone was replaced by something softer that matched the concern in her eyes. “Not every person you run into is a threat, Nick.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t want to miss the one guy who is because I wasn’t paying attention.”

Her right foot slipped on the ice compacted beneath the snow and Nick tightened his grip. He was pulling her over the slick mini-mountain when he heard a big engine revving.

Nick’s gaze flew to the black SUV. Tires squealed against the pavement, fighting for traction. “Move!”

The CSI kit sank into the snow. Nick cinched his arm around Annie’s waist. She yelped as he lifted her off her feet and spun around, setting her on the sidewalk behind him. The driver opened up the throttle and the black car fishtailed onto the snow-packed road, spitting up a spray of slush, ice and road salt as it barreled toward them.

“You crazy—”

Annie’s shout muffled against Nick’s chest. He covered his face with one arm, squinting against the pelting debris, turning his shoulders to protect her from the worst of the deluge—all the while trying to get a glimpse of a face or a plate number or any identifying mark that could help him track the jerk as soon as he got on the phone to Dispatch. Ice chips stung his face and stuck to his clothes. The slush soaked through wool and leather, straight through to the skin.

“Stay put!” Nick pushed Annie back behind the protection of a parked car and charged after the speeding vehicle. Black. Souped-up engine. Missouri plates, he noted, but little more. It was three blocks away, gaining speed and disappearing into the night before he even made it to the corner.

“Son of a—” Nick skidded to a stop, swinging his gaze back and forth to make sure there were no more unwelcome surprises waiting for them. He dropped his jaw open, exhaling deep foggy breaths after the quick sprint through the frozen night.

“E-14.”

“What?” He spun around to meet the dark-haired beauty running up behind him. “Damn it, Annie, why didn’t you stay put?”

He caught her by the shoulders, moving her farther away from the intersection, away from the street and beyond any other spy’s line of sight. She was slightly winded and fumbling with her purse and camera, but that tongue of hers worked just fine. “I couldn’t see the license plate over the roofs of the parked cars, but I could make out a parking sticker on the back window. I couldn’t read where the lot was, but saw
E-14
.” She got a firm hold of the camera and held it up like a winning trophy. “I got pictures. If there was enough light on even one of them, I can blow it up and read the fine print, maybe get the license number.”

“Annie.” She’d done all that in the few seconds he’d given chase? Why hadn’t she just dropped for cover? Those could have been bullets flying at them instead of sooty snow and ice. Dropping his arm around her shoulders, he tucked her to his side and scooted her back toward the apartment complex. His eyes were watching every car, every window they passed, whether they showed signs of life inside or not. “When I tell you to do something, you need to do it.”

The woman planted her feet, nearly toppling over when Nick didn’t immediately stop. Her hand latched on to him, squeezing melting slush from his jacket and scarf through her bare fingers. “You told me not to just stand there and analyze.”

“There’s a difference between...” Not wanting to stand out here in the open any longer than they had to, he nipped that argument in the bud, conceding her point—and admiring that she’d thought so quickly on her feet. “I did, didn’t I? Figures you’d decide to listen to me now. Good work.”

“Thanks.” Oh, man, was he in trouble. She was too pretty when she smiled like that. The flat-out worry that had tightened his chest eased with that cautious little smile and he felt the corners of his own mouth crooking in response.

But knowing his first move shouldn’t be to come up with some other compliment to keep her smiling, Nick pulled her hand away from his wet leather and dripping scarf. Sparing a few seconds to wipe the moisture from her pale fingers and slide his gloves from his hands onto hers, he ignored the chill on his own skin and pulled her back into step beside him. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

“You’re the one who’s freezing. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. I have to get you out of those wet clothes.”

Nick stopped to close the kit she’d thrown open, ignoring the sudden warming beneath his chilled skin at the suggestive invitation of that one innocent line. A completely naughty image of Annie Hermann stripping off his clothes made him forget the weather entirely for a few awkward seconds. Would the bedroom Annie be the single-minded, precisely adept scientist he’d watched working in the lab all day? Or would she be the softly vulnerable klutz in the hospital E.R. who held on with both fists and kissed him with guileless abandon?