Anne Woodard - Dead Aim

Rick shifted so he could get a better look at the woman in the seat beside him. She didn’t move, didn’t take her eyes off the road in front of them, but he would swear she tensed.

She didn’t like him studying her.

Good. If she was after Tina, he wanted her off balance, uncertain.

In the light from the instrument panel her face seemed more finely drawn, more delicate, yet dangerous, too. Cop or not, he had to admit that she was a woman you noticed. Not pretty, but unforgettable. Not safe, but then, for him, danger had always had its own appeal.

In other circumstances, he would have asked her out, maybe angled to get her into bed. Too bad these weren’t other circumstances.

Tina was missing and for some reason, Maggie Mann wanted to know why almost as much as he did. But not because she gave a damn about Tina.

Rick shifted in his seat, sliding his left arm along the back of her seat.

“So,” he said, as casually as if he planned to chat about the weather. “What are you? A cop?”

That brought her head around with a snap. “What?”

“I figure you’re undercover, right? Have to be. College town. College kids. Drugs have to be a problem, right?”

“I’m not a cop.”

“DEA, then.”

She glanced at him, then back at the road. The collar of her jacket brushed against his hand where it rested on the seat back. The nylon shell was cool to the touch, but he’d swear he could feel the heat of her beneath it.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’ve been accused of that a time or two,” he admitted. “But I’ve never been accused of being stupid. That driving earlier? You were trained. Had to be.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah. You’re still angry that you didn’t get a dirt bike when you were a kid. Maybe. I can believe the bit about the dirt bike. But you followed that guy like a real pro. That kind of driving doesn’t happen just because someone fancies the idea of a little Motocross. You were trained to tail a car, trained for a high-speed chase.”

She shrugged. She tried to make it look like an expression of irritation, maybe anger, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. Underneath the irritation, she was wary as a cat.

“You’ve never heard of trying to help a friend?”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Ever heard of being grateful?”

The cat had claws. Sharp ones.

“Look, I don’t give a damn if you’re a cop or not. But I do give a damn about my sister. You didn’t plunge into that chase just because you wanted to help. You wanted to know who that guy was and where he was headed as much as I did. Maybe more. I think I have a right to know why.”

The look she shot him was pointed enough to draw blood.

“You have no rights, and there’s nothing that says I have to put up with this. Or haul you back to town, for that matter.”

She had both hands clamped on the wheel now. He could see her curling and uncurling her fingers, probably fighting against the urge to let go of the wheel and wrap them around his throat.

Instead, she lifted her chin up and shoved her shoulders back. The thick curls at the back of her head brushed against the top of his hand, silken and cool. The inadvertent touch sent fire licking across the back of his hand.

An image flashed through his mind—of him grabbing those curls and pulling her head back. Of her throat curving, suddenly vulnerable, and her mouth opening.

Of him, kissing her.

The image was so immediate and vivid that he sucked in his breath, startled.

Sometimes there was a thin line between the adrenaline rush of anger and the equally hot, dangerous rush of sex. He’d seen it in the wild, but he’d never experienced it himself. Until now.

He didn’t much like it.

He pulled his arm off the back of her seat. The car was too small and she was way too close.

Tina. Think of Tina.

The thought brought him back to his senses as effectively as if he’d been dunked in an ice-crusted mountain lake.

Where in the name of all that was holy was she?

They were in town, now, almost to the edge of downtown. A digital clock on a bank flashed the hour. It was later than he’d thought.

He was tired, Rick realized suddenly. Bone tired. He hadn’t slept for two days, not since his mother had broken the news of Tina’s disappearance. Was that really only yesterday?

He slumped back, let his head tilt back, his eyes close. One deep breath. Two. He drew the air in deep, forcing his chest to expand to take it all in, then slowly breathed out.

It helped. Not much, but it did help.

He forced himself to sit up.

“I have to stop at the shop,” Maggie said abruptly, shattering the silence. “Make sure they’re okay closing up. I’ll take you to your truck as soon as I’ve checked in.”

“That’s all right. I’ll get a cab.”

“Fine.”

Rick winced at the angry edge in her voice, then wearily dragged his hand across his face. The rasp of stubble reminded him he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. Hadn’t even bothered to change clothes.

He probably looked like something Maggie should have tossed out of her coffee shop two seconds after he’d walked in. Instead, she’d done her best to help him. Whatever her reasons, she didn’t deserve the rude distrust he’d just dished out.

“I owe you an apology, Ms. Mann,” he said. “A big one. I was out of line.”

That jolted Maggie out of her thoughts. She glanced at him, surprised.

“Way out of line,” she agreed dryly.

It was weariness that put the roughness in his voice, she realized. Weariness and worry. If she’d been in his place, looking for a sister who’d been missing for over two weeks, she would have been a whole lot more obnoxious.

She would like to think she would have been as good at putting two and two together and coming up with five as Rick Dornier, but she wouldn’t like to bet on it.

Whether he really believed what he’d said or not, Rick had nailed her. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

Nothing, she decided. For now.

Still, if her boss found out that Rick had pegged her as undercover DEA within hours of meeting her, Garrity would pull her off the job. She couldn’t let that happen. She was too close to finding out who was behind the sudden influx of high-quality Asian White heroin that was flowing into Colorado and the neighboring states to let anyone stop her now.

Her instincts told her Tina was involved in it somehow. Probably not as a dealer, but she knew something. Maggie was sure of it. But what? And why had she disappeared?

Or been made to disappear?

The thought made Maggie shiver.

Whatever Tina was up to, she was at risk. The sooner they found her, the better.

If she’d found Greg sooner—

Angrily, Maggie shoved the thought aside.

She liked Tina. A lot. But she couldn’t afford to let her liking a person get in the way of doing her job. And she wouldn’t let her own emotions get in the way of working with a man who might prove useful.

One thing, she was not going to let him get under her skin like he had. This was business, not personal. She needed to remember that.

Maggie relaxed her grip on the wheel, forced herself to relax.

“Apology accepted,” she said lightly. “Actually, I suppose I should be flattered. No one’s ever accused me of being a DEA agent before.”

Not while she was undercover, anyway.

“And you won’t need to call a cab,” she added. “This time of night, it can take forever to get one. I won’t be five minutes, tops.”

Five minutes turned into thirty. There’d been a rush in the last hour so Steve and Sharon were tired and running very late.

To Maggie’s surprise, Rick pitched in to help clean up. The man was clearly exhausted, but too darned nice to sit when others were overworked and eager to get home.