Desperate Girls

15

THE AFTERNOON was a marathon, and by the time Linden dismissed everyone, Brynn was tapped. Erik had disappeared somewhere, so Jeremy accompanied both her and Ross down to the prisoner bay, where the SUVs were waiting.

Erik was behind the wheel of the Tahoe. He got out and reached for Brynn’s door as Ross and Jeremy slid into the Expedition.

“Just you?” she asked him.

“That’s right.”

“I’d rather ride up front, then.”

She walked around to the other side and stashed her attaché case on the floor. Erik wasted no time getting them moving and navigating the congested route out of the parking garage. Brynn kicked off her heels and leaned her head back against the seat. Her feet were screaming, and her shoulders were in knots. She was craving a cold margarita or a hot bubble bath.

Or a massage from someone with strong hands. She glanced at Erik’s on the steering wheel and sighed.

“Rough afternoon?”

“Horrible,” she said. “The state rested its case.”

“Already?”

“I should have seen it coming. I knew they were haystacking us—”

“Haystacking?”

“Putting so many names on the witness list. We didn’t know who they were going to call, but we knew they couldn’t possibly call everybody. The prosecutor made a clever move by calling only a handful of people so he could wrap up on a Friday, which means jurors have the entire weekend to ponder his case against Justin before the defense has a chance to put anyone on the stand.”

“Sounds bad.”

“It is. And today was Conlon’s best day. This afternoon, he put up evidence of gunshot residue on Justin’s hands and trace amounts of the victim’s DNA on Justin’s shirt.”

“I thought it was a drive-by?”

“Not exactly.” She closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “It was a drug deal gone wrong. The victim was standing right beside the car when he got shot, so it happened at very close range, hence the blood—according to Conlon. The bottom line? It’s not looking good for Justin.”

It was an understatement. In truth, it looked dismal. Because of Conlon’s slick timing, the jury was going to spend the entire weekend mulling the evidence of Justin’s guilt.

Feeling deflated, Brynn stared out the window at the sidewalk crowded with evening pedestrians. Downtown cleared out early on Friday afternoons, but people drove in, too, for the nightlife.

Erik cleared his throat. “So. I had an idea.”

“What?”

“You up for a run?”

“A run?”

“Yeah, I was thinking you might want to blow off some steam, and we could go jogging. I know a nice outdoor track in a secure area.”

Her eyebrows shot up with surprise. “Outdoor?”

“Yeah. With birds and trees and fresh air,” he said, parroting her words from Sunday. “You up for it?”

“Um, yeah, but I don’t have any clothes with me.”

“I grabbed your workout gear from the chair in your bedroom.”

He’d gone all the way back to the apartment? Now she really couldn’t say no. Plus, she was sick to death of being cooped up. It was making her stir-crazy. She looked over her shoulder at the back seat, and sure enough, there was a shopping bag she recognized, alongside a duffel that probably belonged to him.

“Did you bring my sports bra?” she asked skeptically. If not, she wasn’t running anywhere.

“Everything’s in there. I threw in your earbuds, too.”

“And where is this secure area?”

“A friend of mine’s DEA, and they’ve got a training campus about twenty minutes from here. They have a track, a firing range, an O-course.”

“What’s an O-course?”

“Obstacle course. This place has everything. My friend offered to get us in on a visitor’s pass.”

“Did he, now? Well, wasn’t that nice of him?”

“You interested?”

“That depends. You’re not going to make me climb a rope or scale a wall or anything, are you?”

“The O-course is optional.”

“I opt no. The track will be plenty for me.”

He glanced at her. “So are you in?”

“I’m in.”

The training campus was beautiful—wooded paths, lush green grass, glimmering fish ponds—and being outdoors was heavenly. Even the distant snap-crackle-pop coming from the pistol range added to Brynn’s feeling of tranquility as she and Erik pounded along the track.

It was five miles, though—a little feature Erik forgot to mention, probably because the distance was hardly noticeable to someone in prime athletic condition.

Which he was. Wow. After changing into her workout gear and stepping out of the bathrooms near the trailhead, Brynn had been struck speechless by the sight of him stretching his legs against a tree. Wide shoulders, lean waist, muscular arms. She’d noticed it all before, but the details of his body were even more obvious as they stretched together and then started jogging side by side. In an olive-green T-shirt and cargo shorts, he looked like a Marine, which made him fit right in with all the law-enforcement types using the track.

Mile one was fabulous. Erik set a nice, doable pace, and Brynn had no trouble keeping up with him. But the heat was a factor, and by mile two, she was soaked. At mile three, her quads started to burn, and by the time she reached the four-mile marker, she was fighting a cramp in her side.

Just when she was about to wimp out and walk, a water fountain came into view.

“Water break!” she yelped, sprinting ahead.

He caught up to her, of course, and gave her a look of concern. “We can walk the rest, if you want.”

“I’m fine!” She guzzled some water down, then dipped her forehead into the cool stream.

“You sure?”

She stepped back to give him a turn at the fountain. “Absolutely.”

He took a brief sip, then straightened and looked her over. “No need to push.”

“I’m not.”

He lifted an eyebrow in a way that told her he knew she was full of bull.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He started up again but at a more relaxed pace.

“You usually do four, so I figured five would be no problem. I wasn’t thinking about the heat.”

“I have a confession.” She darted a look at him. “I usually do two miles. The four is just this week. You guys shamed me into it.”

He looked at her. “We shamed you?”

“Yes! You’re all muscle-bound action heroes.”

“I don’t know about action heroes. But we try to stay in shape.”

“Are you kidding? Your whole team could be out of a comic-book movie. I mean, Hayes could be Captain America.”

She glanced at him, but she couldn’t read the look on his face now. She was definitely affected by all those long glances and hard stares. He had the silent badass thing going, and it totally worked for her. He had to know that, since she’d practically jumped him the other night in her bedroom.

Thought you might want to blow off some steam.

How thoughtful was that? Not just that he’d listened to what she said but that he’d noticed something she needed and rearranged his whole day to get it for her. She felt touched.

“So,” she said, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Will we get to see this friend of yours? I’d like to thank him for getting us in here.”

“He’s really more my brother’s friend than mine. They went through training together.”

“Your brother’s a DEA agent?”

“Yeah.”

“How come I didn’t know this?”

He didn’t respond, but the answer was obvious. Brynn knew almost nothing about his family because he was so guarded about his personal life. Meanwhile, everything about hers was on full display.

“Tell me about the rest of your family,” she said. “I need something to get my mind off this heat.”

He gave her a wary look. “What do you want to know?”

“What do they do?”

“My dad was a lieutenant colonel in the Marine Corps. He’s retired now, does some consulting for the Pentagon. My brother Jake is in the Marines, too. Just promoted to captain. And then there’s Brad, the youngest. He’s DEA.”

“Damn. What a bunch of underachievers.”

He smiled slightly.

“Are you guys close?”

The smile faded. “Not really. They’re all back east. I travel so much that I don’t get back there very often.”

Brynn thought that was a shame. She’d always wished for a big, traditional family, and so many people who had them let the relationships go. Brynn was close to her mom and sister, but she wouldn’t recognize her father in a lineup. He’d walked out when she was three, and she hadn’t seen him since.

“So your mom was a teacher,” she said. “Sounds like you guys are all about public service.”

He didn’t comment.

“You ever miss it? Being part of something big like that?”

“What, you mean the Corps?”

“And the Secret Service.”

He got quiet, and the only sound was the rhythm of their breathing and the distant pop of gunfire. Brynn waited. Was he finally going to tell her why he’d left that job?

“There are a lot of downsides,” he said. “The politics, the bureaucracy, the bullshit. I like working for Liam. Wolfe Sec is lean and agile. Any operation can turn on a dime in response to a threat. It allows us to be creative.”

Brynn had never thought about personal security as creative. Her work was creative, too, although most people didn’t realize it.

“Is working with Liam your dream job?”

“There are some negatives. I’m on the road a lot. My hours are crazy. I’m hardly ever home.”

“Now, there’s an interesting point. Where do you live, anyway?”

“I’ve got an apartment near headquarters. It’s basically a crash pad. There’s nothing to it.”

“Hmm.”

He cut a glance at her. “What’s that mean?”

“You don’t see your family. You’re rarely home. Do you ever get lonely?”

“That’s not something I think about.”

Which was different from a no. Maybe he dealt with it the same way she did—by doubling down on work.

He glanced at her. “You want your music? Might pass the time easier.”

“What, you don’t like to converse while you run?”

“Not usually.”

“Figures.”

“What?”

“You don’t like to talk about yourself.”

“Yeah, well. Not everyone’s as extroverted as you.”

“Actually, I’m a natural introvert. I used to be painfully shy.”

He laughed.

“You don’t believe me?”

“If you say so.”

“Really,” she said. “I was always the quietest kid in the class. Until I hit fourth grade.”

“What happened in fourth grade?”

“Kids started teasing me about my red hair. I don’t know what prompted it, but it kind of caught on.” She blew out a breath. “There was this one kid, Shannon Snyder. He was merciless. He came up behind me in the lunch line once, pulled my hair, and called me fire crotch. I didn’t even know what he meant. But the way he said it, I could tell it was something bad, and it made me really mad.”

“What’d you do?”

“I turned around and stomped his foot as hard as I could.”

“Excellent.” Erik smiled.

“Yeah, not so excellent when I got sent to the principal’s office.”

“Let me guess. Detention?”

“I got off with a stern warning.” She glanced at him. “I discovered the benefit of having a clean record. But that’s how my shy phase came to an end.”

Erik smiled again, and Brynn tried not to get distracted and miss a step. He was so handsome when he smiled, and he didn’t do it much. But he seemed relaxed out here with the grass and trees and distant gunfire.

Brynn imagined what it would be like if they could be this way all the time.

They rounded a curve, and finally the five-mile marker came into view. Brynn sprinted ahead to reach it first, then halted and bent over, gasping for air.

“Five miles,” she wheezed. “I haven’t done that in ages.”

Erik’s big running shoes appeared in her field of vision. She stood up to face him, dismayed by his easygoing expression while she gasped for oxygen. His face was slick, but he wasn’t even winded.

“You good?” he asked.

“Good? No. But you don’t need to get the paddles, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She staggered over to a water fountain and slurped some down.

When she stood up, he was watching her calmly, hands on hips. He eased closer, towering over her, and her stomach fluttered as he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, the same hair that had brought her so much grief in fourth grade but was now a socially acceptable shade of auburn.

“I’m glad you’re not shy anymore,” he said. “And I’m sorry people tormented you in school.”

“I’m over it.”

“If I had to guess, this Shannon guy probably took some crap for having a girl’s name, and he was looking for someone to pick on.”

“Hmm. You might be right about that.”

“I’m also guessing he had a secret thing for you.”

Her heart sped up as he gazed down at her. His eyes were a warm brown, and she wondered what he was thinking. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to kiss him, but she’d already done that. The next move was his.

But he didn’t kiss her. He turned away, and they started walking back to the parking lot in silence. When they reached the SUV, Erik dug a key fob from his pocket and unlocked the rear cargo door. He twisted the cap off a water bottle and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She sighed and shook her head.

“What?”

“You didn’t even break a sweat.”

“Yeah, I did.” He stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it in the back, and Brynn was again struck dumb.

His muscular torso was a work of art. And yet he didn’t even seem to notice her gawking as he rummaged through his duffel and took out a clean shirt.

“What, you don’t want to hit the O-course?” she asked.

“Do you?” He paused in the act of putting on the T-shirt, peering at her through the neck hole.

“Kidding.”

He pulled the shirt on. “You sure? I could help you. It might be fun.”

“My idea of fun is a margarita and a beach towel, not a chin-up bar.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up at him. “And speaking of . . . you have any plans tonight? There’s this Mexican place called Emilio’s not far from the Atrium. Amazing enchiladas.”

Was she really doing this? Was she really asking her bodyguard out on a date after she’d kissed him in her bedroom? Evidently, she was. And he wasn’t answering, so maybe he thought it was weird.

It was weird. Erik’s job was to be with her, so it was almost like having a paid escort. Ick.

“Or we could get takeout,” she suggested.

“Might be easier.”

They climbed into the car and got moving, and Brynn tried not to overanalyze his response as they pulled out of the lot.

Easier how? Because it would be less like a date? Was he trying to put her off ? He’d seemed so relaxed a few minutes ago, and now he’d tensed up. The fact that he was driving her around like a chauffeur just emphasized the awkwardness of their relationship.

Not that they had a relationship, not in the traditional sense.

He was her bodyguard. She was his client. Anything else was just . . . temporary friendship. Or a figment of her active imagination.

But she hadn’t imagined that kiss. No, that had been very real. And he’d been very into it, if only for a few stolen moments before Trent interrupted them.

Brynn took out her phone and pulled up the website for Emilio’s. “How about I place a takeout order?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Sounds good.”

Erik glanced at Brynn in the passenger seat. For the past twenty minutes, she’d been scrolling through phone messages and avoiding conversation.

He’d damn near kissed her back there. He’d been a heartbeat away from dragging her against him and kissing the hell out of her when the sound of pistol fire had reminded him where they were.

He clenched his teeth. What was he doing? He was on duty. He was supposed to be protecting her, not lusting after her.

Erik concentrated on rush-hour traffic and tried to get his thoughts under control. By the time they reached the apartment, he was back in the zone. No more distractions, not for the next five hours. When midnight rolled around, his thoughts could go wherever they wanted, but until then, his mind was a lust-free zone.

His problem was, it wasn’t just physical attraction pulling his mind off the job. It was everything.

He liked watching her work. He liked talking to her—not just about Corby or her trial but about anything at all. She could recite her damn grocery list, and he’d be riveted by her mouth and the sexy tone of her voice.

He even liked arguing with her, which seemed to happen a lot. She wasn’t afraid to question him or challenge him, and every time she did it, she got his blood going.

He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a black Mercedes, where a woman was unloading shopping bags.

“Thanks for the run,” Brynn said.

“No problem.”

“Thank your brother’s friend, too. It was nice of him to set us up.”

“Sure.”

Erik got out, scanning the surrounding area before opening Brynn’s door. He’d been on the lookout for a white Dodge pickup for days now, but he hadn’t seen a single one.

Trent was in the lobby as they entered the building, and Erik caught his eye.

“I need you to take Brynn up while I park,” Erik told him.

“No problem.”

Erik left her with Trent, and his phone buzzed as he stepped back outside. He didn’t recognize the number, but he’d given his contact info out to quite a few people over the past few days.

“Erik Morgan,” he said.

“Yeah, I got a message here from my supervisor,” a male voice said. “Someone wanted me to call about a white pickup in the parking garage at the Ames?”

The Ames Theater. This would be the janitor Erik had been trying to track down. According to the building superintendent, he would have been coming into work Tuesday morning not long before the shooting incident.

“Are you Mr. Mathis?” Erik asked.

“That’s me. I work in the theater four days a week. I was here Tuesday, but I didn’t see any white pickup truck.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. This note here says you’re an investigator. Is that Dallas PD?”

“I’m with a private firm,” Erik said as he got behind the wheel. “You remember what time you got to work Tuesday?”

“I get in every day at oh-seven-hundred,” he said. “Seven a.m.”

His words caught Erik’s attention. The man sounded like former military, which would make him more observant than the average civilian.

“What about other vehicles?” Erik asked.

“What about them?”

“Did you see any vehicle that didn’t belong there? Or any suspicious people hanging around there in the parking garage?”

A pause.

Erik sat behind the wheel, waiting. “Mr. Mathis?”

“There was a black Honda. About ten years old. It was on level three, parked right by the stairwell when I pulled in.”

“You happen to get the model on that?”

“A Civic, I think. Or could have been an Accord. The back bumper was dented—I noticed that.”

“Anyone in the vehicle?”

“Yeah, a guy was sitting there. Looked like he was reading something. Or maybe on his phone. I figured he was waiting for someone.”

Erik started the car. “Listen, Mr. Mathis, are you at work right now? I’d like to swing by and show you a few pictures. It will only take a minute.”

“I really didn’t see much.”

People always said that. And then they were always surprised by how much they did see. An in-person interview would help Erik get details this guy didn’t even know he’d picked up.

With a little more convincing, Mathis agreed to meet, and Erik made a call to notify Trent before pulling back onto Commerce Street. He drove west a block, then got into the left-turn lane to catch the cross street that would take him to the Ames Theater.

Erik scanned the intersection as he waited for the light. The streets were busy with people coming home from work or heading out for the evening. Several sidewalk cafés were filled with happy-hour customers.

A man in a baseball cap caught Erik’s eye. Medium height, medium build. Nothing unusual, except . . . something was off about him. His shoulders were hunched up, and he had his chin ducked low as he stared out from under the brim of his cap.

A horn beeped behind him, and he glanced in his rearview. He took the turn, then watched in his mirrors as the guy walked into the yogurt shop two blocks down from the Atrium. Erik caught a glimpse of his goatee.

The hair on the back of Erik’s neck stood up.

Was it Corby? He looked a lot like one of those police drawings. It was hard to tell for sure at a glance, though. But he made a habit of following his instincts, so he dialed Trent’s number as he turned onto a side street and circled the block.

“Are you with Brynn?” Erik asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re in the apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t leave there.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just stay there until you hear from me.” He hung up and called Skyler. “Where are you? Where’s Ross?” he asked.

“He’s right here. We’re about to pick up dinner. Why?”

“I just saw this guy—”

Muffled screams came over the phone. Erik swerved to the curb and jammed on the brakes.

“Skyler?” He jumped out and ran toward the Atrium. “Skyler, report!”

More muffled screams. Then Skyler’s voice, “Man down! Man down!”