Pitch Black (19 page)

They were within a block of her place now. Alec was probably already picturing waving good-bye and going home to his glass of scotch and a boxing match with a cyber character. He would put her out of this investigation as quickly as he’d brought her into it.

“You know, you ought to talk to Jimmy,” she suddenly said.

“What?”

She shifted in the seat, staring at him, watching the way the dashboard lights sent soft beams of illumination over him. That handsome face was even more attractive with the addition of a slight five-o’clock shadow. “Jimmy Flynt. The con man I told you about.”

He glanced over, appearing puzzled, not noticing the light change from red to green. “Why should I talk to him?”

“If this unsub of yours is using e-mail scams to lure his victims, Jimmy’s the man you should see. I know a few, but he could write an encyclopedia.” There was more to it, though. “Besides, you said you wanted to try to get into this killer’s head. I suspect Jimmy and this Darwin have a lot of the same views. Flynt really looked down on the people he stole from, almost like they had been asking for it. Which sounds like your guy, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“So maybe if you need to try to get inside this killer’s head, to profile him, talking to someone who thinks the same way and did the same sort of thing—though not so violently, of course—wouldn’t be a bad idea. It beats just waiting around for another body to turn up.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she realized she’d put that badly, like she’d been criticizing the job he and his colleagues had done so far. She hadn’t been, nor would she. Today, sitting with them all, watching them come together as a team to work on this case, Sam had gained a whole new respect for the FBI.

“You might be right,” he said with a hint of reluctance.

She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, glad she hadn’t offended him. Even gladder that he seemed to be considering her suggestion. Because he hadn’t yet realized he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without her help.

He nodded slowly, still thinking about it. Finally noticing the light, he touched the gas pedal, and within seconds they arrived at her building. Alec pulled into a parking space outside, lucky to get one—the street was crowded, cars lined down each side. As he cut the engine, he muttered, “That’s actually a good idea.”

“Good. Let me know when you want to set it up.”

Startled, he raised a brow.

“He hates the FBI for bringing him down.” She wasn’t exaggerating. “But he likes me. A lot.” Also not an exaggeration. “I told you about his letters.”

Alec dropped his gaze, as if not wanting to reveal the anger she suspected he felt. “Does he e-mail you?”

“Of course not. He’ll never be allowed to go near the Internet again. They were handwritten letters.”

Though she wouldn’t see any ever again. She’d made sure of that. Thank goodness the warden had had the foresight to decide not to tell Jimmy she didn’t want to receive them anymore. He might not feel as friendly toward her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the inmate talking to her, helping her with the book. But that in no way meant she had any liking for him. Though Flynt had been incarcerated by the time her grandmother had even learned how to use the computer Sam had given her, he was just like the men who’d stolen everything the elderly woman had. She detested him.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t use him, or help the FBI use him, if it meant stopping a monster. “I can call his attorney or the prison directly. The sooner the better, I’d imagine.”

“Forget it. You’ve been dragged far enough into this.”

“I volunteered.”

“It’s not happening, Sam.”

“I am telling you, Flynt will not give you the time of day,” she insisted. “He might not even talk to me if you’re in the room, but I’m about the only shot you’ve got with him.”

His lips compressed tightly, as if he’d said all he was going to say. But he didn’t open the door and usher her out to silently announce his decision was final. Instead, he stayed in his seat, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Obviously thinking.

Reconsidering?
Sam remained quiet, waiting for him to realize her idea was a good one. He was a smart man; he’d see the sense in it.

She couldn’t stay entirely still for long, however. The bitterly cold night had been held at bay, though not defeated, by the weak heater. Now, with the engine turned off, the frigid air began to sift through the closed windows. She could already see her breath in front of her face, and the tip of her nose felt like an ice cube. Shivering, she wrapped her coat more tightly around herself, crossing her arms and tucking her hands beneath them for warmth.

He noticed. Without a word, Alec restarted the car, another sign he wasn’t going to just shove her out and ignore her offer.

To her surprise, though, he went a step further. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed his overcoat. He had thrown it there when they had gotten in, obviously having a little lava in his blood. Without a word, he tugged it up front, reached into the pockets, and pulled out a pair of leather gloves. Not even looking over, he tossed them onto her lap, still silent, still considering.

Sam couldn’t have spoken either, even if she wanted to. Her breath had lodged in her throat. She was so taken aback she didn’t know how to react. Staring at the gloves, she studied them mutely, not even aware moisture had risen in her eyes until she felt a tear on her cheek.

In the entire four years she had been married, her ex had never done something as thoughtful as worrying about whether her hands were cold. One of their first fights, in fact, had started because she’d pulled a pair of his cashmere socks on her cold feet one morning when she couldn’t find her slippers.

Simple courtesy had been beyond Samuel Dalton Jr., who’d been raised with such a big silver spoon in his mouth he hadn’t even needed the bowl.

To Alec Lambert, the thoughtful gesture had been second nature. And it touched her the way Samuel’s diamonds and huge bouquets of roses never had. She’d known this man for only a couple of days, but already she had begun to wonder if his entry into her life was going to leave her changed forever.

Maybe. If only by making her hold out for a man who gave a damn if her hands were cold. Or her feet.

He finally broke the silence. “It’s a bad idea.”

Still touched by the simple kindness, she didn’t respond.

“You should forget all about this day.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” She slid her hands into the gloves, her gaze locked on them, fearful her eyes might still be glassy. “For all we know, your suspect posted a response to me in the hour we’ve been on the road.”

“Hell,” he muttered, as if he had been hoping she could go back inside her apartment and be free of the whole situation. She suspected part of him wouldn’t mind that, even though the other part, the professional FBI agent, had to be anxious for Darwin to crawl out of the woodwork.

He rubbed at his eyes, then asked, “You have an iPhone, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Faster than waiting to hook your system back up.”

That was true. It was also true, however, that Alec seemed to want to avoid going inside.

Retrieving the phone, she got online and checked her own blog site. Tension rolled off him, mingling with her own, and it seemed to take an eternity to scroll down through the pages of comments before finally reaching the end.

“Nothing,” she said with a relieved sigh.

“And there might never be.”

“Maybe not. But maybe there will. Frankly, if I’ve got a serial killer interested in me, I’d rather stick with you and your people.”

A low growl of frustration was his only response.

“I know I’m only a civilian, . . .”

A piercing stare burned the rest of her words out of her mouth. His eyes gleamed in the dim light as he visually devoured her hair, her eyes, her face, her mouth. His voice shaking with emotion, he snapped, “Damn it, Sam, don’t you get it? I don’t want to think about this bastard even knowing you exist.”

He might have intended to sound like an FBI agent. But the look in his eyes and the barely restrained anger said he was talking as a man.

The look made it clear her interest was fully reciprocated.

The anger told her the rest: He was afraid for her.

Sam said nothing, letting the reality of the situation wash over her, filling in the answers to the questions she’d been asking herself since they’d left D.C.

Yes, he’d noticed more about her than just that she was female. Yes, he’d realized something was happening between them. Yes, the attraction was mutual.

No, he wasn’t thrilled about it. No, he didn’t know what to do about it.

No, neither did she.

She lifted a gloved hand, not even knowing why. To reach for the door handle? Or to cup his cheek and lean close enough to kiss the mouth she’d been wondering about since the minute he’d shown up at her door? One hint, one movement from him would tell her which.

He stared at her, not leaning closer, but not pulling away, either. Equally as drawn. Equally as unsure.

Tension flooded the car.
Shake his hand? Or dive onto his lap?

Suddenly, a horn blew somewhere up the block. They both flinched. Sam’s hand dropped instinctively, and Alec jerked back, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if he wanted to clear it of crazy thoughts.

She should be grateful. She had been about to do something that could have left her feeling very foolish had he rejected her. Still, she couldn’t muster up much gratitude. Only a sad sort of what-if.

A minute went by. Then another. Until Alec finally broke the silence, his voice throaty and low. “It’s been less than three days.”

She didn’t feign misunderstanding. He was talking about how long they had known each other. “I know.”

“You should stay as far away from me—from this ugliness—as possible.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Like I said, I’m in this.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Are we still talking about the case?”

“Yes. No.” He thrust a frustrated hand through his hair, already tousled from their long day, looking as completely unsure as she felt. “Hell.”

Seeing his frustration, Sam regretted pushing him. Heaven knew he had a lot more on his plate than worrying about the feelings of a wound-licking divorcée he’d just met.

The timing was bad and she knew it, but she still wanted Alec Lambert. Wanted him to be the one to awaken her from her year of icy exile. Nothing serious, nothing permanent, just one incredibly sexy man around for a little while. And frankly, he was worth waiting for. Holding off until the ugliness surrounding them was taken care of didn’t seem like too much of a sacrifice if she got what she wanted.

She had decided the destination—she had to give him some room, let him set the pace.

“You should go,” she said. “It’s a long drive back.”

Not entirely sure whether or not she wanted him to refuse, she held her breath. The ball was in his court. Not about the case—no way was he going to shake her off that, if there was any chance she could help. But as far as what happened between them personally, his had to be the next move.

He made it. With a sigh that said he had no idea whether he was doing the right thing, he finally ended the suspense.

“You’re right. I need to go. Good night, Sam.”

A
s Samantha and the stranger
sat in the car outside her building, Darwin struggled to get his anger under control. A difficult feat, considering how furious he had been to see her arrive home in the company of that man.

That man
.

He had made such an effort to hurry to her tonight. Shoving his things away, he had left the hotel and driven as fast as he safely could. His blood had been hot and thick in his veins after he’d watched the operator in flight. The excitement had filled him until he’d been able to think of nothing else but sharing the moment with someone. With Samantha.

Even knowing he shouldn’t visit her two nights in a row, for fear he would be noticed, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to watch her move around inside and had been denied that pleasure last night. More, he needed to be there for the moment when, sitting at her desk, she would receive his delayed response, never suspecting its sender was less than fifty yards away.

So, arriving on her street and seeing her car parked outside, but her apartment completely dark again, had been disappointing. Watching her pull up a few minutes ago in an unfamiliar vehicle, driven by an unknown man, pushed him from disappointed to fucking outraged.

Bitch
. He had been out doing the world a service, proving the point he had been trying to make to her. And she had been whoring herself to another man.

It took all his willpower to remain in his SUV, two spaces back, and observe through the windows of the truck that separated their vehicles. Especially when what he most wanted was to wait for the interloper to open his door and step outside so he could run him down right in the middle of the goddamn street.

Restraint
. Impulsivity was an excuse for the weak minded.

He managed to remain in place, taking no action. Hunched down in his seat, he watched their silhouettes inside the dark sedan. The car’s engine was running and they remained inside where it was warm, the low lighting making them easy to watch.

He idly considered shooting them both in the backs of their heads.

The man for his interference. Samantha for her betrayal.
City violence. Drive-by shooting.

He refrained. He had never killed a person in his life. Watched them kill themselves, yes. But he had never pulled a trigger. And there had been a way out for the sheep every single time. Even the boys could have made it if they had kept their heads and worked together to move to the frozen shore. But ending a life with his own hand had never occurred to him.

Funny, then, how much he suddenly wanted to pull the trigger. It said something about how deeply Samantha had invaded him, mind and soul.