Carol Ericson - The District

“Really?” She sealed her lips and fought the warmth that crept into her cheeks. Too late.

Fitch raised his brows. “You didn’t know?”

No, because the Western Bureau Chief didn’t believe female agents were competent to handle murder cases on their own.

“Ah, never got the confirmation.” She shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. “He’s coming today?”

He picked up the thick file folders and waved them in the air. “Yep. Told him you’d be here this morning and I’d have the reports ready for the two of you.”

“Yeah, great. Looks like we’ll be putting together a task force on this case, or at least a task force of two.”

“Swell.” He dropped the file folders on his blotter.

And just like that, Greavy had probably wrecked the tentative rapport she’d established with Fitch.

Leaning over his desk, she scooped up the reports. “If you have someplace for me to sit, I’ll get out of your way and wait for the other agent.”

“To your right, three doors down there’s an empty office. You’re welcome to use it until your partner in crime fighting shows up.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

Pursing her lips, she glared at the bald spot on his head as he bent over his desk. “I meant for me.”

Without an ounce of embarrassment, he aimed a stubby finger toward the door. “Back in the squad room.”

“Thanks a lot.” She clicked his door shut and blew out a breath. Yep, that rapport was totally trashed.

Her high heels clicked on the linoleum as she hugged the file folders to her chest and made her way back to the squad room.

Christina balanced the file folders on the edge of the counter and shook a disposable cup loose from a stack.

“Do you want me to get that for you?”

Christina glanced over her shoulder at a fresh-faced female cop, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. “I think I got it.”

The officer reached around Christina for the coffeepot. “That’s okay. You’d better grab those folders instead.”

Snatching the case files from the counter, Christina laughed. “You’re right. Those almost landed on the floor.”

“Not that I wouldn’t mind getting a look at them.” The woman aimed a steady stream of steaming brown liquid into Christina’s cup.

“Is that so, Officer...” She squinted at the cop’s name tag. “Griego?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She replaced the coffeepot on the hot plate. “I’ve been on patrol for two years now, and I’m just itching to take the detective’s exam.”

“Homicide?”

“That’s my goal.”

Christina raised her cup to Officer Griego. “If I need some help, I’ll make a request for you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’d appreciate that.”

As Officer Griego turned away, Christina grimaced and tipped some cream into her cup. You hit thirty and you become ma’am.

She blew on the surface of her coffee as she made her way back to the office Fitch had indicated before. She dropped the file folders on the desk, leaving the door open behind her. The open-door policy seemed to work better with the police departments, and she just might need Officer Griego’s help.

She flipped open the covers of the two files and reached for a third tucked into her briefcase. She positioned the case file for the Portland murder next to the other two. The tarot cards and the M.O. tied two murders in San Francisco to the one in Portland. No doubt about it.

Why only one in Portland and two here? Had they missed a second one in Portland? If these were random, then the killer must’ve been in Portland for business or pleasure. Or maybe he lived in Oregon and San Francisco was the trip away from home, but the Oregon murder had come between the two in the city.

The close succession of the two murders here had allowed her to see the crime scene for herself this time. When the tarot card had been discovered on the body of the murder victim in Portland, just like it had here, the Bureau had sent her back to San Francisco to follow up.

Then the killer struck again while she was in the city. Lucky for her—not so much for the victim.

For the next hour, she buried her nose in the papers in between sips of lukewarm coffee. Nobody had disturbed her until Officer Griego tapped on the office door.

“Ma’am?”

Christina looked up and rubbed one eye. “Yes?”

“The other agent from the Bureau is here.” Griego looked ready to burst with pride as if she’d personally invited him here and tracked her down.

“Thanks. Send him on over.”

Officer Griego’s rosy cheeks got rosier. “He’s right...”

A tall, broad form filled the door behind the tiny officer. “Thanks, Rita. I’ll take it from here.”

Christina clenched her jaw to keep it from hitting the desk. Then she eked out a tight smile and said hello to Eric Brody, her ex-fiancé, the love of her life and the father of her child.

Chapter Two

Christina looked ready to spit nails. Still didn’t detract one bit from her all-around gorgeousness.

He had the advantage knowing about this meeting beforehand, and if there’s one thing he’d learned about his ex-fiancée it was that if you had an advantage over her—exploit it.

She reined herself in and the tight lips curved into a tighter smile. “You’re back.”

“In the flesh.” He spread his arms, spanning the doorway.

Two spots of color flagged her cheeks and then disappeared almost immediately. She recovered quickly—always had, always would.

“I heard you were traipsing around Latin America after your...leave of absence.” Her fingers drummed the papers on the desk.

He kicked the door shut behind him and she jumped. Not so composed after all.

“I’ve been back in the States about a month. Went straight from drugs to serial killers.”

“Are you okay with the move?” Her dark, liquid eyes softened as they scanned his face, and her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

The edges of his cold resolve melted just a little. Then he straightened his spine. He’d seen that look before—right before she stabbed him in the back.

“Why not?” He lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. “I’m particularly suited to the assignment, don’t you agree? Just like I was particularly suited to the kidnapping detail. Let’s just hope this one ends better.”

She jumped from her chair, smacking her palms on the desk blotter. “You...”

He held up his hands.

She closed her eyes, adjusted the waistband of her slacks and plopped back in her chair. “You look good.”

His gaze strayed from the perfect oval of her face to her long fingers twisting into knots. He could say the same for her. The masculine pantsuit did nothing to conceal her femininity, and from the way she towered over the desk he knew her feet were slipped into those high heels she loved to wear at the office to remind everyone in this male-dominated field that she was still a woman.

Not that there could be any doubt about that. Ever.

“You look good, too. Serial killers agree with you. Of course, they always did. You must be in heaven.”

A spasm crumpled her face and she shoved the file folders toward him. “Oh, yeah. It’s heaven to see young women like Nora and Olivia cut down in the prime of life by some sick whack job.”

Heaving out a long sigh, he rolled a leather-bound chair behind him and dropped into it. The war between them was over. He’d ended the engagement, and these battles were unnecessary. “I’m sorry, Christina. That was a low blow. The families of these women are lucky to have you on their cases.”

Her lips parted and she nodded. Her mouth had lost the tightness and looked totally kissable—and God he could take her in his arms right now and do justice to those luscious lips.