Shadow Fall (Tracers Series Book 9) (13 page)

Liam got that familiar twist in his gut. “You mean Catie?”

“Yes, Catie. Why do you think she’s dead?”

TARA COULD SEE
she’d struck a nerve. She’d meant to.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her with that same cool and assessing gaze he’d had earlier, when he’d been in bodyguard mode.

“You want my professional opinion,” he stated.

“No.”

His eyebrows tipped up.

“I want your take as a professional
and
someone who knew her personally. You’re in a unique position to help the investigation, as you obviously know.”

If he picked up on the underlying guilt trip, he didn’t show it. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s my take. I’ve been doing this a long time, even before I went out on my own.”

“You were a bodyguard in the Marines?”

“Personal security detail—protecting high-ranking officers, visiting diplomats, people like that. In some places it’s a cakewalk, but not in Afghanistan. Basically, I trained in a powder keg.”

She nodded.

“I’ve studied political killings and failed attempts, both here and overseas. I’ve seen a few up close. And that’s not what this is.”

“How can you tell?”

He turned his glass on the table. “Most times it’s fast and impersonal.”

“Didn’t seem that way when ISIS beheaded those journalists.”

“Right, but this is domestic. It’s different. Overseas you see a lot of bombs. And then you sometimes get hostage situations that end with murder. Stateside we’re usually looking at a lone gunman. Sometimes a sniper but maybe something close-up and execution-style.” He shook his head. “If Catie had pulled into work and been shot, I could see it being political. That’s not what happened.” He met her gaze. “I think whoever killed her, it was personal.”

Tara had been thinking along the same lines. If the killer had just wanted Catie dead, there was no need to move her body, let alone butcher her the way he had.

“Back to the phone calls,” she said, because she couldn’t let it go. “Three calls to you right before her murder. Do you think she may have sensed some new threat and that’s why she reached out?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched, and she knew she’d nailed it. She should have felt a little buzz from the victory, but instead she felt guilty. He obviously cared about this woman, and Tara was pouring salt on a wound.

“You’re probably right about that.” He looked down at his drink. “I don’t know why else she would call me.”

“Unless she wasn’t calling you in particular.”

“What do you mean?”

“She called the landline. Wolfe Security. Maybe she was looking for someone who works there?”

She waited for his reaction, but his face showed nothing.

“How many people were on her security detail?” she asked.

“Now my guys are under suspicion?”

“I didn’t say that. But maybe they know something. Maybe one of them knew her personally.”

“You mean sexually.”

“She’d been having marital problems . . .” Tara let the idea trail off to see where he’d take it.

There was a glint in his eyes now. “My guys couldn’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because. Look at the crime. It’s goddamn sadistic.”

“You never know what people can do.”

“I know my people,” he said firmly. “Some better than I know my own brother. They’ve been through background checks, psych evals. Every man working for me, I’d step in front of a bullet for him.” He meant it for real, she could tell.

“The people who work for you—do you know which ones smoke?” she asked.

“None of them.”

“
None
? How do you know?”

“Piss tests.”

She blinked. “You actually—”

“Absolutely I do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important.” He paused. “You really want to hear this?”

“If it’s relevant to the case.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, and she felt the full power of his gaze. The intensity of it put a flutter in her stomach. “When we’re working a job, the most important thing—the life-and-death thing—is focus. We have to be
in
the moment, every moment.” Those green eyes held hers, and she couldn’t look away. “Most attacks will happen in under five seconds, start to finish. We have to see it coming, interrupt it, and get the protectee out of harm’s way. The way we do that is focus. All the time. That means no distractions. I can’t have someone watching a rope line or a doorway or a rooftop, but they’re not really watching it because they’re thinking about their next cigarette or anything else. No cravings.”

“What about food or sex or coffee? You’re saying they don’t crave that?”

“We minimize it.”

“So you just expect your guys to be superhuman.”

“In some ways, yes.” He leaned back in the chair now. “And since you asked about it, I don’t have sex with clients. That would be the mother of all distractions. If someone working for me does it, he’s gone.”

She didn’t hide her skepticism.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you to a point,” she said. “Maybe you can control
you
, but you can’t control other people. A lot of people can’t even control themselves.”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “Honey, you’re a cynic.”

“I’m a realist.”

He watched her eyes, and she felt a warm tingle. His attention dropped to her mouth, and again she wondered what kissing him would be like. She’d been wondering since she first met him, first
saw
him. His intensity appealed to her. Hell, everything about him appealed to her. Except that even with an alibi, he was on the wrong side of this investigation. One of his guys might have committed the murder.

“You know, you never answered my question the other night,” she said. “What were you doing skulking around in the forest?”

“Setting up surveillance cams.”

Her eyebrows tipped up with surprise. “In the woods? Why?”

“They’re my woods. I told you before, I own the land.”

“I know, but—”

“Perpetrators sometimes return to the scene of the crime.”

“Are you saying you’re investigating this case?”

He didn’t answer.

“Liam, you are
not
an investigator.”

“If I find something important, you’ll be the first to know.”

“And who are you to decide that? You shouldn’t be collecting evidence of any kind. You could destroy chain of custody or create holes in the case that a defense attorney will exploit at trial.”

His expression darkened, and he leaned closer. “Let me explain something, Tara. Catalina was my client and my friend. Someone hunted her down like an animal and slaughtered her, and probably got off on it, too.” He paused, holding her gaze. “I intend to find the man who did that. And I don’t want him tried—I want him dead.”

The words chilled her. If she’d ever wondered what sort of Marine he was, now she knew. He was hard, merciless.

Lethal.

And she didn’t want to be hearing any of this. He should know better than to say it to someone with a badge, but he didn’t seem to care. Did he think she’d cover for him if it came to that? Having seen the victim, Tara understood his desire to get revenge. But her job wasn’t about revenge. She’d taken an oath to uphold the law.

She looked away and tried to think of a new topic. “So, I understand you have a lot of job applicants. I’m guessing that includes a lot of Marines?”

“We get people from everywhere.”

“Okay, but a lot of military?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is that, exactly?”

“Supply and demand.” He took a sip of water, and she waited for him to explain.

“Thousands of guys are coming out of the service right now with very specialized skills,” he said. “Police, fire, paramedics—a lot of those training programs are full up, including mine. I get a hundred applicants for every one I hire.”

“And you run criminal background checks on all your people?”

“Every last one.”

She’d bet that wasn’t the only sort of check he ran. He probably went deep, and why shouldn’t he? His business was all about hiring the right people. And it sounded like he could afford to be picky.

“I told you,” he said now. “It’s not one of my men.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

He looked at her, and for a while they were locked in a staring contest. Tara felt a surge of annoyance, with herself and with him. She shouldn’t be here like this. They had competing agendas. And just being in his presence made her lose focus on hers.

He watched her, and it was as if he could look right into her mind and see all those conflicting emotions. How did he do that? How did he make her feel as though he knew her innermost thoughts, including the ones she shouldn’t have?

She took a last sip of her drink and forced herself to slide back her chair. “I should go.”

He nodded.

But she didn’t move. She just looked at him, and with every passing second his gaze grew hotter. She needed to leave before she did something stupid.

She reached for her purse, but he caught her hand.

“I got this.”

She watched him, feeling the weight of his fingers through her sleeve, and she didn’t know what “this” was. Not really an interview. Definitely not a date or even a pickup.

She stood. He stood, too, pulling out his wallet. He left money for the drinks, along with a big tip, and then he rested his hand at the small of her back as they walked to the door. Tara’s nerves flitted. A moment later, they were out on the sidewalk.

Traffic whisked past. A cold wind whipped her hair around her face, and she brushed it away.

“Well, good night.” She glanced up and felt her stomach drop as she read his look.

He leaned down and kissed her.

Her mind emptied as he pulled her into him. The firmness of his lips and the hardness of his body made her too shocked to move. His hands slid around her waist and splayed across her back, and then she
was
moving, sliding her fingers around his neck and letting herself be lifted right up onto her toes. She was letting him in, tasting him, feeling his tongue and his hands and the wall of his chest pressed against her. He tasted so good, and he felt solid and
male
.

She had a fleeting image of her hotel room across the street but pushed away the thought. And then he changed the angle of the kiss, and she couldn’t think at all as his tongue tangled with hers and the kiss went on and on. She liked the way he kissed—strong and confident and unyielding. Not taking no for an answer. She didn’t want to tell him no. She could feel his desire for her, and anything he could dream up she wanted to say yes to. The world seemed to fall away, and she was holding on to him, struggling for balance as lust spread through her. She made a small, needy sound in her throat, and he pulled her in tighter.

She leaned away, flushing. His eyes were dark and simmering, and she knew what he was going to say.
Come back to my room.

She stepped away. “I have to go.”

He watched her intently. But he didn’t argue, and she felt a tug of disappointment.

Traffic hummed around them, and a chill swept over her skin as she glanced around. She brushed her hair from her eyes and tried to make her voice sound normal. “So . . . you’re going back to Dunn’s Landing tomorrow?”

He nodded.

“I’ll probably see you around town, then,” she said.

“Count on it.”

T
ara stacked by the door, staring at Brannon’s back, the M-4 cradled in her hands. Her heart pounded and her throat felt dry as she waited.

“Alpha, you’re a go.” The commander’s voice came over the radio, followed by a deafening
boom
as the battering ram hit wood.

Then they were pouring in, storming the apartment in a thunder of boots and flash-bangs. People screaming, running, diving to the floor. The room smelled of pot and fear. She sidestepped the chaos and scanned for her objective, quickly finding it beyond the tangle of obscenity-spewing bodies being cuffed on the ground.

“North hallway,” she told Brannon, making a dash for it. One door left, two right. And a lone gray door at the end that pulled her like a magnet.

“Dead bolts.” She tossed a look over her shoulder.

“Want me to—”

“I got it,” she said, blasting it with a kick. The door bowed but didn’t break.

“Here, lemme—”

“No!” She backed up and flew at it again, stomping so hard the force rocketed up her leg as the door burst open and smacked against the wall—
boom!

Tara rushed inside, Brannon behind her.

The room was dark, and the stench hit—sweat and urine and other foul odors. The floor was a sea of cushions and sleeping pallets.