Angi Morgan - .38 Caliber Cover-Up

“You don’t have any proof. He didn’t even know you were there.”

Her loyalty would be their downfall. He could predict that scenario easily enough. She trusted law enforcement too completely.

“I spotted the cop watching you on the first pass by your house. He probably got notification of your 911 call featuring an injured white male.”

“I knew he was after you.”

“Wrong. They’re after whatever Pike left in your care. Remember?” It wasn’t hard to notice her sharp, indrawn breath and the quirk of her eyebrow. “You asked about your brother earlier. Is there another reason the cops are interested?”

“Michael’s wanted for questioning.”

Her hesitation gave her away. She was lying. He could figure out why later. Right now he had to keep them free from any authority who would prevent him from working the case. He wasn’t quitting until he had proof enough to put a needle in the arm of Pike’s murderer.

She changed lanes quickly, heading for an exit.

“Stay on the highway. It might be better to take a side road, but we’ll be in Mesquite in fifteen minutes. There’s a gas station that sells T-shirts off Interstate 30. I don’t think we should try to pick anything up in this car.”

She didn’t object. She didn’t talk for several minutes.

“There’s no one you can call to let them know what we’re doing?” she eventually asked, her voice seeking the confirmation they were proceeding down the correct path.

“I don’t trust anybody. Neither should you.”

He heard her low throaty growl of frustration. He closed his eyes again, trying to recall the handler’s face who had set him up so thoroughly tonight.

Strangely enough he could only picture Darby at the moment she chose to help him. The panic that flooded her eyes had been conquered and set aside with one determined heartbeat.

This woman was more than under his skin and he hadn’t even known her a full hour.

“Cuffs?” Erren asked. “Do we really need to go there?”

Darby killed the engine and twisted between the steering wheel and the backseat where she’d thrown the bulky gun belt earlier.

“On the off chance you’re thinking you don’t need me to retrieve Pike’s package, think again. You’re also a suspect in a shooting and not going anywhere without me.”

“Just for the record.” There was an abundance of self-confidence in his every action. Even while he leaned from the passenger seat to snap the cuffs into place—one around each wrist with the steering wheel between. “This is the last time we’ll need to do this.”

“Really?”

“I’ll be giving the orders if you want to tag along to find Pike’s murderer.” God, he reeked of arrogance. “I can do this op in my sleep.”

The man was a complete conundrum. Smiling one minute, burnt-out agent the next. She popped the trunk and went for her jacket, slipping her Glock into the pocket.

Covering her blood-soaked T-shirt, she retrieved the keys from the seat, slammed the door and trotted to the restroom to clean up. She yanked the shirt from her body and shoved it deep into the trash can, splashing cold water on her flushed skin. Wetting paper towels, she smeared the blood on her side to a weak pink stain. The smear would have to do. She shook the drops of water from her fingers and zipped her jacket to the neck.

She’d taken four minutes. Tops. But the sinking feeling in her stomach bubbled into her throat as she opened the restroom door and looked out the glass storefront.

Her car was gone.

“I am such an idiot!” She ran out and around the corner, finding no trace of her vehicle.

“I wouldn’t say that, Detective.”

Heaven help her, he’d gotten close enough that his breath warmed her neck. Tingles traveled to every nerve ending in her body. Her hand jumped to her pocket. Empty.

“Looking for this?”

Darby fisted her fingers, spun around and knocked the agent’s hands in the air. Instead of dislodging the gun, he avoided the collision, ejected the magazine and the round from the chamber. In a mere couple of seconds, he was holding her weapon on his palm, stretching it toward her.

“Holy cow. Take it easy. If I’d wanted a gun, I would have taken the one from the console.”

She snatched the pistol back a split second later. But not before her cold fingers had been pierced by his warmth.

“How—”

“Master pickpocket, a handy talent I acquired my first year undercover. Also helps getting rid of the bracelets.” He shook his left wrist where the handcuffs were still attached. “I removed the ignition key from your ring while you were getting your jacket.”

Rookie move. She hadn’t left the keys in the seat—he had. She shoved the gun back into her jacket. The last thing they needed was for some overanxious gas clerk to call in a robbery.

“Who are you?” This guy was good and she was a complete idiot. But it wouldn’t happen again.

Erren raised a finger, pointed toward the car parked in the dark along the back fence. “No one’s going to ding it there. And they might not notice those custom plates if we’re lucky.”

If she spoke, she’d sputter. She was certain of it and very grateful he saved her from responding when he headed inside the convenience store. She followed. No one else was around, but she wasn’t taking any more risks. She stood at the men’s door, hearing him curse the man who had hit his face. While the air blower rumbled to life and echoed off the restroom tile, she paid for a notepad and two Texas souvenir T-shirts.

Why deny that the man was good at what he did?

She shook her shoulders, attempting to free herself from the tingle still within her body. If she had any sense, she’d have the clerk call 911. Let the real police sort through the mess. Proper channels, that’s what she needed. Not a chance. “Going rogue” with her mysterious and most certainly dangerous new partner was exactly the choice she needed. She could tell herself it was for Pike and Michael, but the quiver that went through her body… The reaction when his breath had skittered along her neck made her wonder if those were her only reasons.

No matter what, she couldn’t allow his mysterious appeal to derail her from her mission—proving Michael’s innocence.

He opened the door and her brain stalled. His hair was slicked back and a richer dark brown. No two-tone golds in sight. She tossed the shirt, hitting his bare chest. Standing in the open doorway, he pulled the red, white and blue cotton over his head and across the best abs she’d ever seen.

“I’ll wait outside.”

The T-shirt hugged the abs she had to stop thinking about. She didn’t wait. He followed right on her heels.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart.” His arm brushed hers as they rounded the corner.

“Who said I did?” Had he caught her ogling him?

“You. Every emotion you have is plainly displayed for the average Joe to see.” A small speck of blood on his forehead indicated he’d dug the gravel from his scrape. “It’ll be better if you stick to the truth as much as possible. Or don’t say anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

He kept his hand against his side with those long legs of his moving at a steady pace toward the car. No one would have guessed he’d been knifed.

She tossed the plastic sack in the backseat. Shoot. The cocky SOB had gotten her out of the store before she’d put the shirt on. She couldn’t leave him alone again. The jacket would have to do.

It was preposterous to think she was running from the police. Paranoid to think a cop tried to kill them. Unbelievable to think she felt safer in her car with a stranger than at home. And totally logical that she’d do anything to find her brother and clear his name.