The Christmas Clue (5 page)

There was a thin greenbelt of trees and shrubs behind Matt’s apartment building, and they used the meager cover to get from his truck to the back entrance.

What they didn’t do was actually go into the entrance.

Instead Matt stopped about ten yards away. Still hidden in the shrubs, he waited and watched while the bitter cold ate away at them.

Despite her freezing body, Cass understood the hesitation. He was checking for any signs that the assassins were nearby waiting to ambush them. She checked, too, and just when she was certain that hypothermia was about to set in, Matt got them moving again.

With their guns drawn, they made their way into a open corridor and hurried up the stairs. He entered his apartment as if he expected to be ambushed by a team of assassins.

But much to Cass’s relief, the place seemed to be empty. Matt didn’t turn on the lights, so the only illumination came from the streetlamp and Christmas lights that decorated the windows of the adjacent apartment building. Those multicolored lights threaded through the window blinds.

He double-locked the door behind them and checked the entry closet and the bathroom—the only two places a killer could hide—since it was a one-room studio apartment. It was austere by anyone’s standards. There was a tiny kitchen on one side and a living area on the other. The only furniture was a sofa sleeper, armoire and a single bar stool crammed against the kitchen counter.

Matt set the security system and fished through one of the drawers of the armoire. He tossed her a dark-blue shirt.

“Thanks,” Cass mumbled, and she quickly made use of it. The apartment was a lot warmer than outside, but it still wasn’t exactly toasty.

Matt put on a shirt, as well—a white one. He didn’t button it, though. Cass was thankful for the darkness because she knew for a fact it wasn’t a good idea to be gawking at his chest.

Except he was gawking at hers.

Cass frowned and glanced down. Her shirt, or rather the shirt he’d loaned her, was unbuttoned, as well, and for some reason that stupid thready light made her white camisole the center of attention.

She buttoned her shirt and lifted her eyebrow.

Matt buttoned his, too.

But that wasn’t all he did. He immediately took out a cell phone from the armoire and began to scroll through the numbers.

“There’s a leak in communications,” she reminded him.

“This phone isn’t traceable, and I’ll call Ronald McKenzie on his private line.”

She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Ronald as in the guy you called just before the assassins came after us?”

“Yep. Same guy.” And Matt stopped scrolling and pressed the call button.

Cass latched on to his arm. “You can’t do this.”

“Hey, this is your plan, remember? I’ll need jamming equipment to gain entry to Dominic’s house.”

“Yes, but I thought we’d get the equipment without having to call anyone in the Justice Department.”

“Not possible. For starters whoever is trying to kill us will probably be waiting for me outside my office…. Ronald,” Matt greeted. Obviously the man had answered his private line. “Tell me what the hell just happened.”

Cass couldn’t hear what Ronald was saying, so instead she debated if she should try to stop Matt from continuing this call. But she couldn’t stop him because they needed that equipment. She only hoped this wouldn’t result in another run for their lives.

Matt explained to Ronald what was going on, and then he motioned for her to go to the window. “Keep an eye on that SUV parked outside,” he mouthed.

Alarmed that he’d heard something in his conversation about the vehicle, Cass hurried to the window and peeked out the corner of the blinds. The SUV was still there, with the Christmas lights dancing across the darkly tinted windows, but she couldn’t see if anyone was inside it.

“So you can get the equipment,” she heard Matt say to his fellow agent.

It didn’t sound like a question, either. But he did seem conflicted, probably because he was having another battle with his conscience. It didn’t stand a chance against the flip side to his dilemma—getting his daughter away from Dominic.

“Okay,” Matt continued. “I need another favor. Do a test on the communications channels. See if you can pinpoint that leak.” He paused. “Get here as fast as you can. Come in the back way. There’s someone in an SUV watching the place.”

“He’s bringing the equipment?” Cass asked the second he clicked the end call button.

“Hopefully. If there’s no hitch.”

“Well, maybe we’ve had our share of hitches already. We’re due for a break.” She truly believed that. Their luck couldn’t be all bad.

“Yeah.” For such a simple response, it conveyed a lot of doubts and hesitation. She didn’t question Matt’s competence as an agent, but this was probably the first time he’d had such a massive distraction.

His daughter.

“Are you coming to terms with fatherhood?” she asked, still keeping her attention on the SUV.

Cass heard the slight shift of his breath. He sank down on the arm of the sofa next to her and checked the magazine in his gun. What he didn’t do was answer.

She stared at him a moment, waiting. Studying him. And wondering why he looked so…interesting to her. Yes, he was hot. But there was more. He had that whole bad boy, snarly thing going for him.

Thankfully, she wasn’t into snarly bad boys.

She hoped.

“See anything out there?” he asked.

Oh. So, that was the somewhat delayed answer to her question. The subject of fatherhood was off-limits. Not that she hadn’t expected it. It might take weeks or even longer for him to get used to the idea.

“I see the SUV,” she reported. “There are also three other cars—all empty. And Christmas lights.” She thought of Molly. Of how magical the holidays were for a child. Matt’s daughter was just old enough to notice the trees and the decorations.

“I miss Christmas,” Cass mumbled.

“Yeah,” he practically snapped. “I bet holidays at your massive family estate were something else. All that glitter and glitz.”

Well, that took care of her nostalgic mood. “No. I miss
Christmas.
Being with friends. Wrapping presents. Baking cookies.”

“You bake cookies?” Not quite a snarl, but close.

Cass shifted her position so she could see him but still glance out the window. “There it is again. I took Psychology 101, so I know what’s going on here. Transference. Vanessa was a snobby heiress who did a thorough job of stabbing your heart with the heels of her overpriced designer stilettos. So, you assume that I, too, am a snobbish heiress capable of only thinking of myself. And maybe I was, once. But look at me—I don’t look so rich and snobby now, do I?”

Much to her surprise, he did look at her.
Really
looked at her with those intense Nordic-blue eyes. “I have no idea why I want to kiss you.”

She sputtered out a cough of surprise. And mentally scrambled to come up with an explanation. Thankfully, one came that didn’t involve
her
attraction to bad boys. “Psych 101 again—you want the distraction so you won’t have to deal with the thoughts of fatherhood. Danger you can handle. In fact, you thrive on it. But fatherhood, that scares you, doesn’t it?”

The snarl returned. It was coupled with a low growl in his throat. And a lethal glare. She’d crossed the line. Cass swallowed hard and would have moved away from him.

There wasn’t time.

He reached out. Lightning fast. Because he was still holding his gun, both his hand and his Glock went around the back of her neck. She felt the cold steel on her skin.

And she felt him, hot and bad.

Matt dragged her closer. Snapped to him. His mouth went to hers.

And he kissed her until she went limp.

T
HE KISS WASN
’
T SLOW
and lingering.

It was hard and punishing.

Definitely not a kiss of foreplay or romance. Okay, maybe there was some passion, but it ended so quickly that Matt didn’t have time to think.

He didn’t want to think.

All he knew was that he didn’t dare allow the kiss go on. Not with her seemingly willing mouth. So, he let go of Cass and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “I was right. Even in those clothes and with that bad haircut, you taste expensive.”

“You taste dangerous,” she countered.

The corner of his mouth hitched. Not a smile. Not a smile of humor, anyway. It was the smile of a man who knew exactly what all of this meant. Cass no doubt knew, too.

She
was
expensive.

He
was
dangerous.

They were opposites, and they were attracted to each other.

But the truth was that attraction was all hormones and the need for a diversion. That smile also hopefully told her that they wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon.

Even if his body clamored that it would like to go another round.

“Say it,” he grumbled. It was time to put some new barriers between them. “I’m a jackass.”

“You’re a jackass,” Cass accommodated. “But—”

“No more Psych 101 babble. I’m a jackass Justice Department agent. You’re an expensive-tasting fugitive. If we’re lucky, we’ll get into Dominic’s place, take my daughter and find the evidence you need. Then we’ll part company and never see each other again.”

“Absolutely.” And she sounded downright perky about it, too.

Well, what the heck had he expected? They both had personal stakes in this, but those stakes were at opposite ends of the proverbial spectrum. Despite her claims to the contrary, if it came down to it, Cass would do what it took to save
herself.
And he would do what it took to rescue his daughter. They weren’t partners.

More like two surly prison escapees handcuffed together.

Who’d just kissed.

“Say something,” he insisted.

She stared at him. “Say something, but not about that kiss, right?”

“Damn right.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about Dominic’s sister, Annette.” There was no perkiness in her voice now, and she had her attention back on the SUV. “I never met her. She was away in Europe during the short time that Dominic and I were together. But I’ve been doing a lot of research about her. She’s not like Dominic, and I’m sure she loves Molly.”

Okay, that was a good subject. “Does Annette love Molly enough to just hand her over to her real father?”

“You mean if you contact her, will she willingly relinquish custody to you?” She lifted her shoulder and paused, her forehead bunched up. “Maybe.”

The answer surprised him more than a little. He’d expected Cass to take the stance that she and only she could help him rescue his daughter.

“But Dominic might not let Annette give up Molly,” Matt continued.

Cass shrugged again. “Dominic is…territorial. And manipulative. If he learns that Molly’s father is a federal agent, he’ll likely try to use her to get whatever he wants from you and the Justice Department.”

Matt had already come to that conclusion. He only hoped that Dominic wouldn’t make that connection before they could get on the estate.

“You’ll get your daughter,” she said. “Because you’re good at what you do. Because you don’t fail.”

“I’ve been failing most of my life,” he heard himself say. And he groaned. Hell’s frickin’ bells. What was it about this woman that made him want to kiss her and then pour out his heart?

“You failed at something?” She used the same tone he’d used for his smart-mouth, baking-cookies remark. A tone that set his teeth on edge.

So, he told her the truth.

“Yeah. I failed. I grew up in a run-down apartment with a neo-hippy single mom who didn’t believe in steady employment or parenting. When I was eight, she was murdered by a homeless lunatic who thought she was trying to steal his shopping cart filled with trash. Because no relative would take me, I was sent to foster care and screwed up my life in just about every way possible.”

“You couldn’t have screwed up that much. After all, you’re a federal agent.”

“Juvenile records are sealed,” he pointed out. Because he needed something to do, he switched places with her and kept watch on the SUV. “I also had a mentor, someone who cared enough to make sure that I not only qualified for the agency, but that I succeeded.”

And that mentor was none other than his present boss, Gideon Tate.

“So you got a second chance,” Cass said as a matter of fact. “That’s what I want. A chance to prove I’m innocent so I can go home and run the family business that I inherited two years ago when my parents were killed. No more bimbo labels for me. And no more men.” She paused. “No more kisses, either.”

“Agreed,” he said quickly.

“I’m not a multitasking sort of person,” Cass admitted. “And right now the only thing I can concentrate on is getting into Dominic’s estate.”

Matt was about to agree, but movement in the parking lot caught his eye. The passenger door of the SUV opened. He automatically lifted his weapon and braced himself for another attack.

“What’s wrong?” Cass hurried to the window and peeked out the other side of the blinds.

Matt watched as the tall, athletically-built brunette exited the SUV. And he cursed under his breath.

“You know her?” Cass asked.

“Yes. That’s Libby Rayburn, a fellow agent.” She was dressed all in black and was clutching a small handheld device. Matt was betting it wasn’t a Black-Berry. It was probably an infrared thermal scanner.

“What’s she doing here?” Cass wanted to know.

Matt could think of a reason—but it wasn’t a good one. She would obviously have known about the Level Red threat and was there to check on him.

His phone rang, and he checked the caller ID and saw Libby’s name there. “Matt,” he answered.

“Thank God you’re all right.”

Libby sounded genuine enough. Matt hoped she was. He’d worked side by side with her for two years and trusted her. Well, at least, he had before tonight.

There weren’t many people he trusted now.

“I know you’re in your apartment,” Libby informed him. “I scanned it with infrared. Don’t worry. I’ve been monitoring signals, and no one else has attempted to scan the place.”