Collision Force (8 page)

They were laughing when she walked back into the room.

Laughing.

Andi’s irritation flared and she glared at them both. Pete shot her a curious look, but said nothing. Cole flashed a smile, dimples and all, but Andi ignored it—and the way her stomach jumped—as she took a seat at the end of Pete’s bed. Her partner’s eyes were dancing. What the hell was so amusing?

“So, when are you getting out of here?” Cole asked Pete.

Her partner shrugged. “Soon, I hope. My arm’s fine.” He lifted it to prove it, obviously ignoring the empty sling.

Andi shook her head. “But what about your lungs?” What if Pete wasn’t as well as he was trying to convince them?

“Fine.” Pete nodded. Andi gave him a long look. “Seriously, partner, I’m fine.”

“Can we talk about the night you got shot?” Cole asked. They both looked at him.

“As you saw in the report, I didn’t see anyone,” Pete said, his tone hard, but full of regret. She knew he was angry at himself more than anything.

Guilt rushed her and Andi studied her shoes. Pete reached for her, squeezing her forearm as if he could read her mind, and she flashed a grateful smile. She caught Cole’s intense gaze. He was silent as he watched. Heat crept up her neck and she swallowed hard.

“Why were you there in the first place?” Cole asked.

“Andi and I were helping Sully and Kurt out on a stolen property case. I have a guy who won’t talk to anyone but me. He insisted on a meet that night, then the idiot didn’t show.”

“We heard the shots and headed over,” Andi said.

“First on the scene,” Pete said.

“And Carlo saw you before you saw him.”

“Yeah well, whoever it was led with their gun,” Pete grumbled, shaking his head and rubbing his arm.

Andi bit back a wince.

“Your informant, you think he could be in with my guy?”

“Nah, I don’t think he’s smart enough.”

“I talked to him,” Andi said. “He was drunk that night, passed out in his girlfriend’s apartment.”

“Corroborated?” Cole asked.

“Yes,” her partner answered before she could. “Tell me about Carlo Maldonado.”

Cole nodded and started give him details on Carlo from the year he’d spent with the guy.

Andi grunted.
Nice.
Pete only had to
ask
, and Cole would tell him everything? Perhaps she didn’t have the right equipment below the belt to get a straight answer from him.

Jerk.

The reasonable voice that pointed out it’d be good to get her partner’s take on things was ignored.

“So, all that’s left is to find Maldonado,” Pete said.

“That would be a good start.” Cole nodded. “He’s pretty savvy, but he’s no doctor. He’s walking around with some holes in him.”

“He can’t bleed forever,” Pete said.

“Not without dying and I need him alive.” There was an edge to Cole’s tone. He wanted the guy bad. Maybe Andi would be able to get somewhere with him on the case if he was driven by his need to arrest Maldonado. She could convince him to focus on what he wanted most and leave the rest to semantics.

“So far no pharmacies have had any break-ins.” Pete glanced at her for confirmation of new information and she nodded. “I almost expected it.”

“And I checked all hospitals for a hundred miles every day for a week. But I know him. He wouldn’t show up at one.”

“Unless he passed out and someone called nine-one-one.”

“Yeah. I thought about that. Not so much to date. No John Does I came across had any holes in them.” Cole rolled his shoulders and Andi averted her eyes from watching the way his shirt moved over his muscles.

She sat through the exchange in silence. The two men had an instant ease with each other. She was jealous, but of what? The fact that she and Cole hadn’t clicked? Or that Cole was talking to
her
partner?

Well, Cole and Andi had clicked in one way. That kiss. Her body warmed and she groaned. Pete shot her a look, and Cole’s dark brow arched.
Damn.
It must have been too loud. She shifted on the end of the bed.

“You all right?” Pete asked.

She glared at him but nodded. Her partner’s eyes danced and Andi avoided Cole’s gaze.

“Well, I’m gonna hit the restroom. I saw one down the hall,” Cole announced.

“Okay, man. We’ll be here,” Pete answered.

Andi’s breath exited on a whoosh as soon as Cole had closed the hospital room door. Alone with her partner, she could relax, regroup. Brace herself for dealing with Cole for the rest of the day.

“So, what’s the real deal?” Pete asked.

“Meaning?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Agent Lucas?” Pete’s tone was amused, but his eyes were serious.

“Like I said, meaning?”

He shook his head and Andi grimaced. Time for the third degree.

“I think you like him.”

“What?” Andi sputtered.
Hell no.
“Please. He’s a pompous ass. Conceited and arrogant, and…”

Pete laughed. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Andi scowled, and Pete laughed harder. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, partner. He’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad? Okay, Pete,” Andi said, her tone patronising. Oh, she should smack the look off his face. He was supposed to be on
her
side.

“He kissed you.” His tone was nonchalant, but he was studying her.

What. The. Hell. Cole had told Pete he kissed her? She
would
kill him. Lying to her partner wouldn’t work, even if that was her plan. Pete always saw right through her. Andi’s cheeks heated and—of course—he noticed. His expression became much too knowing.

Dammit.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Wow
what
?”

“Andi MacLaren, blushing and speechless. A first, I think.”

“Shut up, Pete.” Andi sighed.

“So it’s
true
.” He gave a low whistle, and she glared.

“And?”

“
And
…you tell me. He doesn’t have any bullet holes, and seems to be walking all right, so…”

“So, nothing. Dammit. Just drop it.”

Pete laughed, and she narrowed her eyes.

“It’s about time, Andi. I’ve been worried about you,” he said.

She shot him a glance. “What do you mean?”

Pete took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Iain’s been gone three years…”

Andi yanked away. “Stop. Just stop. I love Iain.”

“Love? Why isn’t it
loved
?” His tone was low. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back. “I know you loved Iain. But you can’t become a nun.”

“This isn’t about Cole Lucas…”

“No, it’s not. Not really. It’s about you, locking yourself away.” He gripped her hand again.

“I haven’t locked myself away.” Andi shook her head.

Cole.
She was attracted to him, right? No—she couldn’t confess it to her partner, because she hadn’t admitted it to herself.

Pete threw his good arm over her shoulders and pulled her against him.

Andi rested her head against him for a moment. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I realise that, darlin’.” Pete smoothed her hair and smiled. “But since you won’t marry me, I’m worried about you.” She pretended not to see the wince as he lowered his injured arm from her face. Obviously his arm still pained him, though her partner would never admit it.

“I would kill you if we got married.” When Andi looked at him, his eyes danced, and then they both shared a laugh.

“I have no doubt about it.” He winked.

The door opened and Andi looked up. Her gaze collided with Cole’s. Something passed through those steel eyes, but he schooled his expression so fast, she’d probably imagined it. He smiled, but his dimples were missing.

She rushed to her feet to help with the three cans of soda he was balancing precariously as he tried to manage the door to Pete’s room. Cole muttered his thanks, but his body was stiff. What exactly had she missed?

Andi handed Pete a can, and he inclined his head as he opened the tab then drank. Cole stared at her partner, but said nothing. He plopped down in the seat next to Pete’s bed, his brow furrowed. What could he possibly be so broody about?

“How long have you two been partners?” Cole asked, his light tone belying his expression.

Andi looked at Pete, then back at Cole.

“About five years,” Pete said, and she nodded. “I was her best man when she married Iain.”

Cole laughed, but his eyes were flat. “Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that Andi had a best man.”

Pete grinned.

Andi harrumphed, but smiled because the grin on her partner’s face was infectious. “Well, Pete was friends with Iain, too, so it doesn’t count.”

Pete chuckled and shook his head. “How about you, Agent Lucas? Any partner of note? Been at the bureau long?”

“Ah, partnering up isn’t for me.” Cole ran his hand through his dark hair. Andi smirked. Not a shocker she’d been right about him. “But call me Cole.”

Pete nodded.

“Been with the bureau since I was twenty-five. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Yeah, me too. Joined the force at twenty-one,” Pete said.

Conversation between the two men flowed naturally, and once again all Andi could do was watch. And envy them.
Men.
She was used to being in a mostly male profession, so why she let Cole and Pete’s apparent ease get to her was irritating.

“What’s next, you two?” Pete asked. “Any promising leads?”

“Finding Maldonado,” Cole and Andi spoke at the same time. She glanced at him, a small look that locked with his. His eyes were intense. Andi swallowed hard and ignored how her body warmed up.

Pete broke the spell with yet another laugh. “Would you look at that? Y’all are already in sync.”

“Shut up, Pete,” Andi muttered. She slapped his good arm, but her partner only beamed. Cole shook his head and gave a small laugh.

“I suppose that’ll come in handy,” Cole put in. He grinned, flashing dimples this time, and her heart went into overdrive.

“We should probably go,” Andi said. Her words were rushed and she scrambled off Pete’s bed. Wait…what was wrong with her? She wanted to
leave
with Cole? Be
alone
with him? Jealous or not, Pete was a nice buffer.

“Well, don’t forget about me, partner. I might be missing prom, but my head ain’t broke. If you guys get stuck, I can always put in a good two cents.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Cole said.

Andi quirked an eyebrow.
That
from him?

“Three heads are better than two,” Pete said.

“Sure wouldn’t hurt.”

“You want
help
all of a sudden?” Andi snapped.

Pete’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

Cole had the nerve to just shrug. “Can’t hurt,” he repeated.

“Let’s go.” Andi clenched her jaw. She headed for the door, not saying goodbye to her partner and ignoring his final bellow of laughter.

Every time Cole redeemed himself a little, he had to piss her off and ruin it, damn him. And damn Pete for liking him, too.

Chapter Seven

Carlo woke and rubbed his eyes. It took him a moment to orient to the room. Ah, yes, he was still in the ranch house. The couch spun when he tried to sit so he gave up and sank back down. His side burned. Shifting slightly, he moaned as the pain in his leg radiated outward.

He was going to die. If he didn’t get his ass up and out of this house, he was going to die. He needed to find some antibiotics.
How
was going to be fun, because he couldn’t draw attention to himself. That was why he’d nixed the original plan to break into a pharmacy or some shit. As of right now, all he could manage was bleeding all over the place.

Antioch wasn’t large, and if he could make it to the rodeo, he could find Berto. Or whatever he was calling himself these days. Supposedly, his old buddy had got out of the life, but Carlo didn’t buy it. Rumour had it that Caselli was branching out and Berto was the boss down south. The bastard was dark enough to pass for Hispanic, so who knew?

There was some stupid big deal rodeo in town. Berto’s ranch was supposed to have a major part in it. No wonder his former boss had been able to track him to Texas if the rumours about Berto were true. But if that
was
the case, why was it that Gains and Reese were the first to come after him? If Caselli had resources in the south, he’d have used them. He was a cheap-ass, and it took funds to send two guys in a big black Escalade after Carlo.

He sucked in a breath and pushed his body up and off the couch. “Fuuuuuck!” Carlo’s yell echoed in the large, empty living room, but at least he was up.

His bladder throbbed as much as his wounds, so he headed to the bathroom. Carlo’s fingers trembled as he yanked his zipper down. He shook his hand before he made a grab for his dick. He didn’t want to piss all over his hand.

“That went well,” he said, zipping up. “I’m
still
talking to myself. Jesus.”

His reflection in the large mirror was a blur of messy dark hair in need of a cut and thick bags under his brown eyes. His normally olive skin was a shade or two paler than normal. He was sweaty, his limbs heavy.

Carlo lumbered out of the bathroom. Checking his temperature was an afterthought, but he didn’t feel as weak as he had, so he didn’t go back for the thermometer. The fever had broken for now, but all sorts of bad things were headed his way if he didn’t get some meds. No other options.

He looked down as he limped along the hallway. His leg wasn’t seeping anymore—at least his pants appeared to have dried—for now. The pain still radiated with every step he took, but it wasn’t as bad as before. He needed to move on. Now.

Reaching for his forty, he checked it, even though he knew damn well it was locked and loaded. He smiled and tucked it into the small of his back. Too bad he didn’t have a holster handy. Last thing he needed was to shoot himself in the ass. Carlo took one last look over his shoulder and winced. He couldn’t clean the blood off the couch cushions, but right now he needed to look out for his own ass. Hopefully the local police weren’t the brightest crayons in the box. Either that, or he was fucked.