01 A Cold Dark Place Read online

  Fantastic.

  “So, are you up for it?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You can say no and I’ll reassign you, but I don’t think you will.”

  He was right. But probably not for the reasons he thought. Yes, she wanted to root out bad guys. But here, in the heart of the BAU, she had the opportunity to pick the brains of people who lived and breathed serial killers and child abduction.

  Even though she hated the idea of spying on her colleagues, she’d never have a better chance to pursue her sister’s investigation than this. She held out her hand and shook his. “I’m in.”

  Hanrahan smiled but she was overwhelmed by sudden loneliness. The search for answers was never ending. For the first time since she’d been accepted into the FBI academy, she found herself wondering if she’d made the right choice. Rather than chasing shadows, maybe a better tribute to her sister would have been to live a full and happy life. As Hanrahan led her out of his office and down the hall to her new office, she realized something else. She owed her mom a big fat apology.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The bar was in an upscale DC hotel just a block from her father’s apartment. She’d given herself permission to go out, get drunk and spend the weekend recovering, something she hadn’t done since she finished law school. It was a Friday night in November and the place was dimly lit and packed by what looked like some weird engineering convention. Mallory grabbed an empty stool at the end of the bar. She slipped out of her coat and draped it over her knees, ordered a shot of McClelland’s.

  “Thanks.”

  She raised her glass in a toast to her sister and knocked back the drink. She’d put on make-up and changed into a black cocktail number so they’d think she was meeting someone for dinner and be less likely to throw her out before she hit her limit. She needed something to make her forget and sitting alone in her apartment with a bottle of scotch seemed even more pathetic than surrounding herself with strangers. She had friends in the city but she didn’t want to see anyone—not tonight.

  Eighteen years ago tonight, she’d gone to bed and by the time she’d woken up, her life, and that of many others, had been destroyed. Why had the bastard taken Payton and not her? Had she said or done something to put her sister at risk? Was it her fault, or just blind luck?

  Mallory had been a sleepwalker—had she been gone when the kidnapper arrived?—then climbed back into bed and slept on in childish oblivion? Had she unlocked the front door? Let someone into the house? She didn’t know. Couldn’t remember. The night was blocked from her memory. All she remembered was waking up and Payton being gone. She raised her finger to the barman who gave her a nod while he dealt with another customer.

  Festive lights twinkled and Michael Bublé sang “Jingle Bells.” If she’d had her weapon she’d have blasted the sound system into a thousand component parts.

  She sipped the next drink and it scorched her throat. When that was finished, she switched to a white wine spritzer before the barman cut her off. She wanted to get drunk but she didn’t want to be unconscious. Not yet anyway.

  In the space of one week, her nice orderly progression through the ranks of the FBI had been turned on its head. She’d been burglarized, managed to upset her mother, and she was being sent into a new job for the express purpose of spying on her colleagues and figuring out if one of them was in league with a killer and therefore a potential candidate for Death Row.

  Great.

  It was not a way to make friends and Mallory was sadly lacking in friends these days. Someone brushed against her as they took the stool beside her. She set her teeth and narrowed her eyes as she stared into the bubbles in her wine. If someone tried to pick her up she was going to hurt them.

  “I didn’t expect to see you in DC, Special Agent Rooney.”

  Blinking in surprise, she turned to see Alex Parker sitting beside her. Her heart gave a panicked little flutter. Not now. Not tonight.

  But why not tonight? Everything else was messed up, why not this?

  Screw it. She raised her glass in salute and took a big gulp. “My plans unexpectedly changed. Do you come here often, Mr. Parker?” There was a bitter edge to her tone. She was unaccountably glad to see him, but she didn’t want company for tonight’s meltdown. She just wanted mindless oblivion. No interested bystanders.

  “Sometimes.” He shrugged. He looked different today. Still gorgeous, but not in a businessman way. A black T-shirt molded well-defined muscles and well-worn jeans hugged the rest. Her eyes traveled over him as he ordered a beer. A tattoo peeked just beneath the edge of his sleeve. He looked like the soldier he’d once been rather than the security consultant he now was. He caught her eye, expression serious. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  She shook her head though she was torn. Fact was she wanted to get to know the guy—and wanted to spend time outside of her own head for a change. But talking wasn’t nearly as satisfying as drowning her sorrows for a few hours or days.

  “This doesn’t violate your no-dating rule?”

  Her mouth went dry. “Sitting beside me does not violate the no-dating rule.”

  His eyes darkened to charcoal. “How about talking? Would talking violate the no-dating rule?”

  The wine cooled as it slid down her throat. But a warm glow spread through her stomach and her muscles started to unknot. The alcohol was finally doing its job. “Talking doesn’t violate the no-dating rule either, but I don’t have much to say right now. In fact I’m not very good company.” She may as well be honest. He seemed like a nice guy and she didn’t believe in stringing people along. Unfortunately she didn’t have any choice at work for the foreseeable future. Great. She was being pathetic and she hated pathetic. She took another gulp of wine.

  “I’m not much of a talker either.” The edge of his lips curled and she felt a sexual ping down to her toes. The man had a sinful mouth. Full lips and a small cleft in his chin. And he smelled good too. Like sandalwood soap and clean male skin. “Any particular reason we’re celebrating tonight?” He tipped a beer bottle to his lips and she watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed.

  Then it struck her.

  He didn’t know.

  He didn’t know about her tragic past.

  God.

  Relief burst through her that someone in the universe didn’t consider her an object of pity. She finished her wine and ordered another whiskey.

  “Make that two.” Alex told the barman.

  They sat in silence, nursing their drinks, listening to Michael Bublé sing “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” The melancholy of this time of year drifted over her like a cloud. The week before Thanksgiving marked her sister’s abduction. Christmas itself marked a big fat void in her family’s life. An empty seat at the table. Years of unopened presents.

  Mallory wasn’t in the mood for shots anymore. She had a nice buzz going and a different kind of energy was invading her cells. For some reason, the stupid sentimental Christmas song reminded her she hadn’t had sex in over two years and that the guy sitting next to her was not only built, he’d actually asked her out. He wasn’t some stranger pick-up; he was one of Lucas Randall’s best friends, and Lucas didn’t tolerate assholes. She caught herself leaning closer to him because he smelled so damn good. The biceps in his arms bunched under that tattoo every time he took a drink and she felt a funny little quiver just from looking at him. Her gaze ran over the hair cut short on the nape of his neck, the wide shoulders, and taut stomach. Even his boots were sexy. She turned away, only to catch his gaze in the mirror behind the bar. He smiled wryly. He’d seen her checking him out and the heat in those gray depths told their own story.

  Desire coiled deep inside. She looked down into her glass but wasn’t feeling thirsty anymore.

  Her skin felt hypersensitive. Nipples beaded against the black silk of her dress making her arousal obvious. She felt his eyes on her. Felt the weight of interest. Heat flamed through her body. There was a quiver be
tween her legs that had her squeezing her thighs together.

  Anticipation. Want.

  She licked her lips and he stopped watching her through the mirror and turned toward her instead. There was an alertness in his gaze. A gravity in the way he looked at her. The guy was incredibly sexy. Perfectly symmetrical face. Strong jaw. Bedroom eyes and that damn mouth of his. There were other ways to find oblivion...

  She caught a drip of amber liquid down the outside of her glass with her fingertip and sucked it dry. She heard a low almost indiscernible growl and smiled. The idea of turning him on thrilled her. It was like she’d stepped into somebody else’s skin. She never did this. She’d never picked up a guy in a bar in her life before, but to say she was going through a dry spell when it came to men was a massive understatement.

  And, technically, sex wasn’t dating.

  She squirmed in her seat. Michael Bublé wasn’t annoying her half as much as he had earlier. Sorry, Michael. All is forgiven. An image of Payton singing Christmas carols flashed through her brain, but with the reminder of her sister came the desperate need to forget what tonight was really all about.

  She dropped her hand to his thigh. Felt his muscles tense to stone.

  “Want to go somewhere quieter?”

  His gaze held hers, his eyes almost black now. With desire? She didn’t know. He took her hand from his thigh and squeezed her fingers. “That must break the no-dating rule.”

  “Only if we kiss,” she said.

  “What?” The word came out gruffly.

  “I’ve been giving it some thought.” What if he said no? She didn’t want him to say no. “We only break the no-dating rule if I kiss you.”

  “If you kiss me?” Damn, she liked the color of his eyes when they went all smoky and dark.

  “Correct.” She nodded and held onto the bar. Oops. That first drink was catching up with her and it felt magical not to worry about every little thing. But she was a federal agent, she didn’t want to fall over in public. She slipped money on the bar and slid off the stool. Her coat drifted to the floor. Alex picked it up and held it open while she slid it on. The brush of cold satin against her bare arms was delicious but it was the touch of his fingers that had her quivering.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  Did that mean he wasn’t interested? Or was he being polite and pretending she wasn’t a sure thing?

  They were out of the lobby and standing on the sidewalk. The frigid wind took her breath. Ice blasted her face and legs as she huddled into her coat. “Oh my God, why did I wear nylons?” Her teeth chattered despite the long wool coat and she stamped her feet in her stupid heels.

  Alex looked down at her legs. “Why did you wear nylons? It’s thirty degrees out here.” But he was only wearing a light jacket and didn’t look even remotely cold.

  “Because...” She grabbed his arm as the lights started to whirl behind him “...these places let you drink more if you don’t look like a bum.”

  They started walking along the wide sidewalk and she snuggled against him. The stars were bright in the frosty night though it was hard to see them through the DC glow. She’d forgotten how much she loved this city, and how good it felt to be with a man you were attracted to.

  “And you wanted to drink more because...?”

  Despite the buzz, that question hurt. God. She blinked away a sheen of moisture, pretended it was the vicious wind in her eyes. She needed another drink, or a kiss. She stopped him with a tug, whirled to face him and slid her hands up his chest. The man felt like he was carved out of granite and there was so much heat pouring off him she wanted to crawl inside his skin. How did men produce so much heat? It didn’t seem fair. She slipped her arms around his neck and felt his hands settle low on her waist. Desire made her ache. Her breasts were pressed against his chest and she swore she could feel his heartbeat through the thick wool of her coat. He was watching her with a wary expression. She leaned forward to taste his lips but he reared back when she was just a whisper away.

  His breath was warm on her face. “You forgot your no-dating rule.”

  “I did?” He was getting a little blurry around the edges, but the sense of safety he invoked wrapped around her like a cloak. She pulled back, then wagged her finger at him. “That’s right.”

  There was something she’d forgotten about that rule but it was so damn cold outside and the sooner they got to her apartment, the sooner she could find out if the muscles beneath that T-shirt looked as good as they felt. Her teeth chattered and he put his arm around her again.

  “You’re freezing.” He tucked her close.

  For years this night had been filled with nothing but painful memories. She wanted to blast that away. Wanted to erase all memory of those gut-churning uneaten dinners at her mother’s table, and all the useless, endless grief.

  What was her mother doing right now?

  Guilt tried to cut in, tried to make her change her mind about Alex but the feel of him against her was so much better than the agony of reliving the worst day of her life. And then they were outside her apartment building—magic.

  She delved for her wallet in her pocket but she couldn’t pull it out.

  “Let me.” He slipped his hand inside her coat and they both jumped as his hand brushed the apex of her thigh. He froze, opened his mouth with what looked like an apology so she took his face in both hands and kissed him. Who cared about the stupid rules?

  His lips were surprisingly soft, his mouth tasting of whiskey and beer and really hot man. Suddenly he took control of the kiss, diving deeper, tongue tangling with hers with a possession that made her insides turn molten. She found herself pressed up against the glass facade of the building, Alex’s one hand still buried deep in her pocket, the other cupping the back of her head.

  His body pressed tight to hers in a perfect fit. She didn’t feel cold anymore. She felt like her skin was about to ignite. A groan reverberated in his chest though the hand trapped in her pocket remained frustratingly still and she desperately wanted him to touch her. She dragged her mouth from his on a gasp, suddenly aware they were in a public place.

  “Let’s go inside.” Her voice came out all breathy and sultry.

  He eased away from her and disengaged her wallet from her pocket and took out the keycard. Then he opened the lobby door for her. She headed inside, tugging his hand but he didn’t budge.

  “I can’t, Mallory.” The look in his eyes was tortured.

  “What?” After that kiss there was absolutely no doubt he wanted her.

  “I can’t come up,” he repeated.

  “Why not? Are you married?” The disappointment in her voice would have made her wince on a normal day. Today had never been normal. Today was Groundhog Day with a twist. Well, she wasn’t taking it anymore. If she had to strip naked in the street she was switching things up tonight and Alex Parker was just the man to help her.

  “Not married or involved with anyone else right now, but...” He laughed but there was enough desperation in the sound to deny the humor. “You’ve had too much to drink. You’re not thinking properly. I don’t want to be something you regret in the morning.”

  Dismay bubbled up inside her. “I’m not that drunk.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “Really.” Please don’t change your mind. She bit her lip and watched his pupils flare and didn’t think she was reading the signs wrong. Okay. She was going to have to seduce the guy. She frowned. How did you seduce a guy? If she’d ever known, she’d forgotten. He let go of her hand and she used the movement to slip out of her coat. It slid to the floor and, as Alex bent down to pick it up, the lobby door closed behind him. Grinning, she headed to the elevator, making sure she didn’t wobble on her damn heels. So what if she was slightly tipsy? Was that illegal? No, sir, it damn well wasn’t.

  Holding the elevator door open she slipped out of her shoes and let them dangle from her fingers. He stood there looking edgy and uncertain, holding her keycard in one hand and
coat in the other.

  “I know what I’m doing, Mr. Parker.”

  At that, one side of his mouth curled up and his eyes gleamed. “I can see that.”

  She leaned against the side of the elevator and then let go of the button. He eyed the door behind him like an escape route and she thought he was going to just stand there as the doors closed between them. Then suddenly he was in the elevator and she didn’t even see him move.

  ***

  He watched the drunken whore from the dark interior of his car. When the bastard pinned her to the wall outside her apartment block he wanted to pull his gun and put a bullet in them both. Today of all days he’d expected a little more respect for her sister’s memory. Fury expanded through his body. She wasn’t half the person Payton had been. She’d have been ashamed to see what her sister had become—a whore, a cheap cunt.

  He checked his pistol. Gripped the door handle just as they went inside the building. Shit.

  He watched for a moment. Waited for a light to come on somewhere in the apartment building, but it never happened. The image of them fucking seared his brain. Even though she wasn’t Payton, watching them had been like seeing his beloved cheat on him and he couldn’t stand the idea. His heartbeat sped up and he imagined taking his knife and carving her sister’s name on her forehead. But she wasn’t even worthy of that. His hands shook as he started the engine. He’d carve slut instead.

  He checked his shoulder and pulled away, driving out of the city and heading for Route 66. His plans had gone awry. He’d expected to catch Mallory alone, maybe even waiting for him. A smile gripped his mouth. He was going to have to educate her on what he expected. Payton had never needed a lecture, not even a raised voice. She’d been perfect. Always happy to see him.

  The highway was quiet even though it wasn’t that late. He was working tomorrow so he needed to get back anyway. Just as well he hadn’t taken her tonight. He needed to figure out a plan of exactly how to deal with this female who looked so like the woman he’d loved but acted like a hooker. An idea formed—he needed to remind her of her sister, needed to make her give a damn. He was pretty sure he knew how to do it.