Allison Brennan - Fear No Evil

“You’re a man who inspires trust,” she whispered, glancing down. “But do you trust me?”

He pushed her chin up again, his eyes falling to her lips. A small cut on her upper lip where the tree branch hit her was already healing. He leaned over and kissed it lightly. Then he kissed her again. Her hand came up around his neck and held him to her, a sob escaped her throat.

He swallowed her sob, kissed her again, opening her mouth, tasting her, pulling her tongue into his mouth. His arms went around her back, holding her. She molded perfectly to his body, her small breasts pushed flat against his chest, her hand clutching his hair.

He reluctantly pulled back. “Let’s go.”

“They haven’t released me.”

He smiled. “I’m a doctor. I’m releasing you.” He pulled her up, held her close. “Let’s see about that hot shower.”

Jeff Merritt started to walk into Lucy Kincaid’s hospital room and was stopped by a broad man in quasimilitary garb.

Merritt flashed his badge and started to walk past. The man put his hand out and held him back. “You can’t go in there.”

“I need to debrief the girl,” Merritt said.

“You are not allowed in there.”

“Out of my way, soldier.”

The man shifted his stance, from protective to offensive. “You need to leave,” he told Merritt.

“I don’t take orders from local law enforcement,” Merritt said. What did these people think he was? Some two-bit cop? He was an assistant director in charge in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He had more authority in his little finger than they had in their miserable lives.

The door opened and a woman stepped out. She shut the door firmly behind her and frowned at them. “What’s going on here? She’s sleeping.”

“I’m in charge of this investigation. I need to speak with the victim and get a statement.”

“Hell no,” she said, crossing her arms.

Merritt fumed. “And who are you?”

“Detective Carina Kincaid, San Diego Police Department. You’re not talking to Lucy until she’s ready.”

Merritt needed to find out what the girl knew, what Adam Scott had said or she had overheard. He had to find Scott. He couldn’t rest until that part of his life was over. He was so close, but once again Kate Donovan had fucked it up.

“If Scott abducts another girl, it’s on your conscience.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “Go away.”

Merritt turned and left. He’d already tried to see Mallory, but he was in emergency surgery. Internal bleeding. He might not make it. Dammit, why couldn’t Merritt have spoken to him first? He might know something important about Adam Scott’s next move.

He flashed his badge at a nurse. “I need Katherine Donovan’s room number.”

“One moment.” The nurse went to a station and looked it up. “Five-fifteen,” she said.

He smiled. “Thank you.” Finally, someone who responded to authority.

Merritt closed his eyes as he waited for the elevator. He was so close to avenging Paige. The two people responsible for her death were within reach. Kate Donovan and Adam Scott.

He pushed aside memories of his own culpability. He hadn’t believed that Kate Donovan had found Paige that fateful day five years ago. He was so furious that they had gone against orders, that one agent had died and one was abducted, that he believed Kate was just blowing smoke to save her own ass.

Then, on the computer screen, he saw her jump through the window. Saw her pull the knife out of Paige’s chest. She ran, and the cabin exploded.

Sweat formed on his brow. If he had believed Kate then, would they have been able to save Paige? He didn’t know.

But if Kate hadn’t disobeyed direct orders, Paige wouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. If he had sent backup, even more lives would have been saved.

“God, I miss you, Paige.” He remembered how much he’d loved her spunk, her courage, her beautiful, exquisite face.

And then the image of her brutalized body, the rapes and the stabbing, assaulted his senses and he pounded his fist on the elevator wall.

For five years revenge had been in the forefront of his mind. And now half of it would be complete.

He’d bring Kate up on charges. Going through the Office of Professional Responsibility was merely a technicality. He could keep her in prison until they made their findings.

But first he had to figure out how to smoke Adam Scott out of hiding. Using Kate Donovan as bait.

He squeezed the small DVD player in his pocket. He would show her what she’d been responsible for. Make her work with him. Because now the ends most certainly justified the means.

He opened the door of room 515.

It was empty.

THE HOTEL WAS on the water, ten stories up, and Kate opened the sliding glass doors to let in the cool, fresh breeze even though the sun had set long ago.

Dillon handed her the backpack from the plane. She didn’t know how he’d gotten it, but the idea that he’d thought she might need something was endearing.

He touched her face and she melted inside. She couldn’t imagine him wanting her. She probably had more baggage than all his patients combined. But she would take it, at least for tonight.

“Do you mind if I shower?”

He shook his head, kissed her. “I’m going to get you something to eat.”

“The hospital fed me dinner.”

He grimaced.

She laughed. “Hey, it wasn’t bad. I’m used to worse food from Professor Fox’s observatory.” She took his hand, squeezed it. “Don’t leave.”

He kissed her again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Kate hadn’t been intimate with a man in a long, long time. She hadn’t thought she missed it. After watching Trask and his games, she thought she’d never want to have sex again.

But here, with Dillon Kincaid, she saw everything good sex could be, between two people who wanted to please each other.

“Shower,” she murmured into his lips, pulling him along with her.

She backed into the lush bathroom. A single white rose sat on the black marble counter. She picked it up, smelled it, savored it.

“You?”

Dillon took the rose, touched it to her nose, then put it in a water glass.

“How hot?” he asked, turning on the shower.

“Very hot.”

“Ouch.”

She grinned and pulled off her tank. She saw Dillon’s gaze travel down her body. She had a lot of little scars here and there. “I’ve sort of abused my body. This,” she pointed to a long faded diagonal scar down her side, “was made by a skinhead when I went undercover back in my irresponsible youth.” She found herself laughing. She hadn’t been able to think about her previous years in the FBI without thinking about Evan and Paige. But now, recounting the good she had done seemed to free her.

“And this,” she stepped out of her jeans and pointed to a round, gnarled scar on her upper thigh, “was a bank robbery. Hostage situation. I went left, should have gone right.”

She stepped over to Dillon. The bathroom was already growing steamy from the hot water. “Does my body disturb you?”

“Disturb?” He grinned lopsidedly. “I wouldn’t use that word.”

He unclasped her bra smoothly, dropped it with her soiled clothing. He gently touched her shoulders, his long fingers trailing down her breasts, touching the little scars on her stomach, the bigger one on her side.

“You’ve had your appendix removed,” he said, touching a very faint one-inch scar on her abdomen.”

“I was thirteen. I thought I was having menstrual cramps. It burst.”

He frowned. “Dangerous.”

“I survived.”

“You’re a survivor.”

He kissed her.