Agent to the Rescue (Special Agents At The Alter Book 3) (8 page)

* * *

H
E
JERKED
AWAKE
as the SUV exited the parking garage. He knew they would leave—eventually. He just hadn’t expected them to leave while the moon was still visible in the slowly lightening sky.

It was just light enough that he could see two shadows behind the tinted glass of the SUV windows. They were both inside that vehicle.

But of course Agent Reyes wouldn’t have left her alone and unprotected. He had too big a hero complex. Too bad that complex would prove his downfall. His demise.

His hand shook slightly as he reached for the keys and turned them in the ignition.
This is it
.

He turned his vehicle around and followed them in the light morning traffic.

This was his chance to finish this.

To kill them both...

Chapter Nine

Some might have called it his gut instinct. It had kept him alive when so many of his friends and former associates hadn’t survived. Ever since his grandmother died, Dalton had figured it was her voice in his head—her as his guardian angel warning him to watch his back. Instead of his back, though, he’d been watching his rearview mirror.

At a discreet distance, the car had followed them from the city. The luxury all-wheel-drive sedan was a vehicle he would have been following, the way he had followed the Mercedes, if he was still concerned about the car theft ring. It was the least of his problems now.

He glanced to the passenger’s seat. Slumped against the leather, Sybil slept now. He didn’t want to wake her up; he didn’t want to scare her.

But that vehicle had been following them for too long for it to be a coincidence. That wasn’t a Bureau vehicle, so it wasn’t backup.

That left only one option. Only one person with a reason to follow them...

Sybil’s and Littlefield’s attacker.

He pressed on the accelerator. The other man had managed to lose him on backcountry roads. But Dalton couldn’t be outdriven on pavement.

The closer they came to that hospital in Michigan, the less pavement there was. Maybe that was why the guy had waited and watched instead of closing the distance sooner. He had been waiting for those back roads again. For his chance to run Dalton off into one of those damn suicide ditches...

Or worse yet, this highway wound close to the Lake Michigan shore, with steep shoulders leading down to the rocky beach below. Unlike the way the ambulance had only crumpled a little in the ditch, the SUV would get crushed if it rolled off here.

Dalton gripped the steering wheel in tight fists. If Sybil hadn’t been in the vehicle next to him, he would have spun the SUV around and become the pursuer instead of the pursued. Above all the promises he’d made her, he wanted to keep his promise to catch her would-be killer.

He had called in for backup when he’d first noticed the car following them from the city. Fortunately, she had already been sleeping, and deeply enough this time that he hadn’t awakened her.

But he didn’t see that backup behind him yet. There were no government vehicles on the road, nor were there any helicopters in the sky. He saw only that luxury sedan bearing down on them. So he couldn’t confront the killer with the man’s almost victim riding along with him.

He couldn’t put her in any more danger than she already was. So he pressed harder on the accelerator.

The car thief had stolen the wrong vehicle if he had intended to catch Dalton’s SUV. His engine was far more powerful. But he had to slow for a sharp curve as the tires began to skid across gravel. The pavement had given away as the highway ended and became a two-lane gravel road.

A curse slipped through his lips as he fought the wheel, and the sedan gained on him. The front bumper of the car struck the rear of the SUV, spinning it more—spinning it nearly out of Dalton’s control.

* * *

S
YBIL
AWOKE
WITH
a scream as a jolt sent her flying forward toward the dash. But Dalton’s arm was there, catching her before she struck her head. He held her back against the seat.

“Hang on,” he warned her.

And she instinctively reached for him. But he was pulling away, putting both hands back on the wheel. He steered the SUV into a circle, gravel and dust kicking up from beneath the tires. And then he was bearing down on a car.

“What’s going on?” she asked. She braced her hands on the dash now. How long had she been sleeping? Nothing looked familiar to her anymore.

They weren’t in Chicago. Because, for some reason, the city had been familiar to her. This area was familiar only in that she knew she had been here since she’d lost her memory. This was the area in which Dalton had found her in the trunk of that car.

Dalton sped up and knocked the front bumper against the rear bumper of the car. The car fishtailed on the gravel, spinning nearly out of control.

“What are you doing?” And then she knew...

Dread filled her, making her stomach churn—making her nauseated. “It’s him?”

“I would love to find out,” he murmured. But as the car sped up, he slowed down—letting it get away from them.

“Catch him!” she said.

He shook his head. “I can’t risk it. Not with you.”

“Why?”

“He’s probably armed,” Dalton said. “If he shot me and then something happened to you...” He shuddered as if the horror was what would happen to her.

If he shot me...

He said it as though it didn’t matter what happened to him, only what happened to her.

But she cared. She cared too much about Dalton Reyes.

“If I wasn’t with you, you wouldn’t have cared whether or not he was armed,” she said.

“Of course not.” He tapped his holster. “I’m armed.”

“But it’s not the Old West,” she said. “You can’t just have a shoot-out in the street.”

“You need to tell the criminals that,” he said. “I’ve had more than my share of shoot-outs in the street.”

Of course he had. He had grown up in a gang and then he had joined law enforcement. If he hadn’t been shot yet, he would be shot eventually. Maybe he would survive. Maybe he wouldn’t.

That was why she cared too much—because she cared about him more than he cared about himself. And eventually he would leave her—whether or not her memory returned.

“That’s why I couldn’t go after him,” he said. “Because you might get caught in the cross fire.” The tires hit asphalt again as he drove down a paved road before turning into a parking lot. “And then I would be bringing you here for you—not for Trooper Littlefield.”

As he pulled into a parking space, other vehicles pulled into the lot behind him. The sedan he’d struck wasn’t among them. These vehicles were all black, like his SUV. He stepped out just as Agent Campbell came around the front of one of those other SUVs.

“You okay?” the blond-haired agent asked him.

Dalton nodded.

“What about you?” Agent Campbell asked as she stepped out.

She nodded. But she wasn’t fine. She had already confronted her own mortality, but now she’d confronted Dalton’s. Like the paramedics and Trooper Littlefield, her presence had put him in danger.

But he was used to it. He put himself in danger all the time. And that bothered her most.

“Did you catch him?” Dalton asked.

Agent Campbell shook his head. “Found the car abandoned, though.”

“Figured he’d ditch it,” Dalton said. “I’m sure you’ll find it was stolen.”

Agent Bell joined them. He hadn’t come from one of the SUVs, though. He’d stepped out of the hospital. “You still think this guy is a car thief?”

“He has stolen at least a few cars that we know of,” Dalton pointed out. “So, yeah, he’s a car thief.”

“He’s not just a car thief,” Bell insisted.

“Nobody’s just
one
thing...” She hadn’t realized the words had slipped out of her lips until all the agents turned toward her. “What I mean is that no person is just one thing. A woman is a daughter, a mother, a sister, a lawyer or doctor...” Her face heated with embarrassment over how philosophical she sounded.

“So a car thief could also be a killer,” Dalton told Jared Bell.

The profiler shrugged. “Too bad you didn’t catch him.”

Dalton’s hand curled into a fist—as if he was tempted to slug the other man. She and Agent Campbell both stepped closer to him—to hold him back if necessary. “I couldn’t risk Sybil’s safety.”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought her back here,” Agent Bell told him.

Sybil was tempted to slug the man herself. “I insisted. I want to see Trooper Littlefield.”

And she had threatened to take a cab or bus to the hospital if Dalton had refused to drive her. Of course, it had been a bluff and one he could have easily called since she had no money for taxi or bus fare.

“He’s in the ICU,” Agent Bell warned her. “There has been no improvement. He may not regain consciousness.”

Trooper Littlefield may not be able to hear her apology, but she still felt the need to make it. She had doubted him, and he might lose his life because of her.

“I want to see him,” she insisted.

Bell shrugged. “We’ll have to sneak you in the back, then, because reporters are staked out in the lobby.”

She nodded. “Of course, a state trooper being attacked would be big news.”

“He’s not the only news.”

“They’ve found out about her?” Dalton asked, and his voice was gruff with bitterness and dread.

Bell nodded. “They’ve been asking questions.”

“Bet you love that,” Dalton murmured.

The other man shook his head. “Let’s sneak her in before someone notices us all in the parking lot.”

All the FBI vehicles and agents had drawn attention. A couple cameras clicked, bulbs flashing. She felt as if she was dodging paparazzi as Dalton and Agent Bell rushed her into the back entrance of the hospital.

“This is probably the door he came out,” Dalton murmured. “Has it been dusted for fingerprints?”

Bell nodded. “It and the pipe he used to hit Littlefield.”

“He left it behind?” Dalton asked as they boarded the elevator.

“There were no prints on it,” Bell said. “Or on anything else. He’s too careful...like someone else...”

The serial killer who had eluded him.

“No,” Dalton said. “He’s not that careful or he wouldn’t have tried to run me off the road again. I could have had him.”

If he had been willing to risk her safety...

“Maybe he just had no idea what a crazy driver you are,” Agent Campbell teased him.

Dalton glared at his fellow agent, who, like Ash Stryker, was obviously also his friend, as they stepped off the elevator.

Because the trooper was in the ICU, he could have only one visitor at a time. So she stepped into the room alone—well, relatively alone—since all three agents watched her through the glass wall.

Tubes and machines were connected to the bald-headed lawman. He looked old and small lying in the bed. She couldn’t believe how uneasy he’d made her before. He was no threat to her.

She had been the threat to him.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you got hurt...” And he hadn’t even been protecting her. He had only been pretending to protect her.

What about Dalton—who really was saving her over and over again? What would her attacker do to him?

She knew the answer to her question. She knew that the man would kill Dalton the first chance he got—if only so he could get to her.

* * *

H
E
WAS
SO
damn mad that rage blinded him. That was probably a good thing since he’d had to rent some fleabag motel room. But it was the only place that wouldn’t have wanted a credit card from him.

His cash was beginning to run low, though. He had to end this soon.

Agent Reyes kept getting in his way. The man drove better than any other lawman he knew. But then, he probably hadn’t learned to drive on some driving range. He’d learned on the streets.

He could have caught him...if he hadn’t slowed down. The man had probably known the other agents were coming. He’d barely slipped out of the car before those other SUVs had driven up.

They’d searched the area, but they hadn’t found him. They wouldn’t. He knew how to be invisible. He wouldn’t have survived prison if he hadn’t learned that. Or maybe he’d just gotten lucky.

He couldn’t risk going back. He couldn’t risk his freedom.

But he couldn’t leave this undone, either. He had to kill the woman. And he wanted to kill the agent.

He knew where they were. So he just had to wait again—until another opportunity presented itself. He wouldn’t try to run Agent Reyes off the road again.

His rage dissipating, he could see clearly. The motel room was run-down, the bed lumpy and low to the floor. But in the middle of the mattress lay the gun he’d picked up while he was in the city. Next time he would use that.

Agent Reyes had been able to outrun a car. But he wouldn’t be able to outrun a bullet.

Chapter Ten

Dalton hadn’t brought her home. Maybe he regretted that he’d brought her to his condo the night before, because he hadn’t brought her back.

“So is this one of those safe-house places?” she asked as he closed the cottage door behind them.

It was a small house, but its whitewashed walls and floors made it seem bigger and brighter. Bright furnishings and curtains made it cheerful and welcoming. It reminded her of someplace she’d been before—before she’d lost her memory.

Or maybe it only reminded her of a picture she had seen in a magazine. She couldn’t trust her mind—not when so much of it was blank.

“We don’t have any safe-house places in this area,” he replied. “This is the cottage Ash and Claire rented for their wedding night.”

She could see the romance of the cottage—could imagine the dark-haired agent carrying his petite blonde bride over the threshold. Dalton hadn’t carried her. He wouldn’t even look at her.

He cracked the blinds and peered through them. But he wasn’t looking at the view of Lake Michigan. Instead, he was uneasily watching the driveway and the street.

“You have agents out there,” she reminded him. “They will watch for him and make sure he doesn’t get to us.” But he had already gotten to them. He had nearly killed her. She had been lucky to lose just her memory. She could have wound up like Trooper Littlefield, barely alive, or she could have wound up dead.

“I’m not looking just for him,” he said. “I’m making sure no reporters followed us, either.”

They had ambushed them in the parking lot when they’d left the hospital. More cameras had flashed, and microphones had been shoved in their faces to answer the questions that were hurled at them.

“Who are you?”

“Do you really not know who you are?”

“Were you raped?”

She shuddered at the thought. But that had been one of the first questions she’d asked the doctor who had examined her. She hadn’t been violated that way. But she had been violated. She’d been dressed in a wedding dress that she was certain wasn’t hers. And she had been shoved into the trunk of a stolen car.

But more than that, her memory had been stolen.

“I don’t think any reporters could have followed you,” she said.

Nobody could have followed him, given the way he had been driving. If he hadn’t told the backup agents where they were staying, she doubted they would have found them, either.

He uttered a ragged sigh and rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. Dark circles rimmed his dark eyes. And she realized how tired he must be.

“You didn’t sleep last night,” she said.

He shrugged. “You didn’t sleep much last night, either.”

And not for the reason she’d wanted to be awake—not because they’d been making love. “No, but I slept in the car.”

“For just a few hours.”

“It’s more than you had,” she said. “You should lie down for a while. We’re safe here. Nobody could have followed you, and we have other agents watching to make sure nobody hurts us. We’re safe here.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked.

“I was scared today,” she admitted. “Being that close to him...not knowing who he is...”

Could it be the man to whom she was engaged? Could he be that determined to get rid of her that he didn’t care who else he hurt in the process?

She shivered. And Dalton stepped close to her, offering her comfort and protection. She wanted more from him. She would lose him eventually. He wouldn’t keep her case forever. He would either solve it or pass it over to Agent Bell. Or he would wind up getting hurt like Trooper Littlefield was hurt. Or worse...

She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t lose him before she’d had him—before she’d felt as close to him as she could get to another person.

“We’ll figure out who he is,” he reiterated his promise. “And we’ll stop him. He won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about him,” she admitted. “At least not right now.”

He touched the spot between her brows, which had furrowed with anxiousness. “What are you worried about, then? The reporters?”

He was. She had seen his anger and concern. Maybe he’d been irritated because all the reporters’ questions had led back to one subject—Jared Bell’s serial killer.

“They’re wrong,” she said. “And so’s Agent Bell. I don’t think a serial killer randomly picked me to attack.” It felt more personal than that. Or maybe it was just that it felt personal to her. “For one thing I’m not a bride.”

“You’re engaged,” Dalton said.

“Are you reminding me or yourself?” she wondered.

He leaned down, his mouth coming close to hers before he stopped and whispered, “Both of us...”

“I don’t care,” she said.

“That’s because you don’t remember him.”

“It’s because of you,” she said. “You’re the man I don’t want to forget.”

“You won’t,” he said, his breath tickling her lips. “You won’t forget me.” Then he kissed her. He really kissed her—with passion and desire every bit as fierce as what she felt for him.

He lifted and carried her again to a bed. Like last time, he followed her down onto the mattress. She clutched at him, holding him to her. She didn’t want him changing his mind again—didn’t want him regaining control.

So she kissed him passionately, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He chuckled even while he panted for breath. And beneath her palm, she felt his heart racing inside his muscular chest. Then she pulled at his shirt, trying to free the buttons.

But he caught her hands.

“Damn you!” she cursed him as he stood up and stepped back from the bed. “Damn!”

But he just chuckled again. Then he removed his holster and put it and the gun inside it onto the table beside the bed. Next, he pulled off his shirt. And then, his pants. And everything else until he stood gloriously, devastatingly naked and aroused in front of her.

Her hands trembled as she reached for her own clothes, so desperate to remove them that her hands fumbled. But then his hands were there, taking off her shirt and her pants.

His finger flicked over the clasp between the cups of her bra. And the bra came unhooked and fell away from her.

He wasn’t laughing anymore. There was no humor in his dark eyes, only desire as he stared at her. Had anyone ever looked at her with such hunger? She doubted it. And she doubted that she had ever felt such hunger herself. She wanted him. So she reached for him, sliding her hands over all his rippling muscles.

And he touched her. Her breath caught in her throat, nearly choking her as sensations overwhelmed her. He caressed her breasts with his hands and then his lips, flicking his tongue over her peaked nipples. She squirmed on the bed as tension wound inside her, begging for release.

“Please...” she found herself begging. “Dalton, please...”

He touched her there, between her legs, where the pressure was becoming unbearable. While his tongue continued to tease her breasts, he traced his fingers over her mound, teasing the most sensitive part of her.

She bit her lip but couldn’t hold in the cry as pleasure rushed through her. But it wasn’t enough. It barely took off the edge of her mad desire for him.

His hands shook a little as he reached inside his wallet and pulled out a condom. She took it from his shaking fingers. Tearing the packet open with her teeth, she rolled the latex over the hard, pulsating length of him.

He was so big, so hot—so overwhelming. Then he was between her legs, gently pushing and then thrusting inside her. She arched up, taking him deeper— taking him to the core of her.

They moved in perfect rhythm, as if they’d been doing this for years. As if they had always known each other this intimately...

He knew exactly where to touch her to set her off, his fingers moving over her again. And his lips covered hers, his tongue moving inside her mouth the way he moved inside her body.

She clutched at him, her nails digging into his back and then his butt, as she met his thrusts. And sought release. The tension was like a madness inside her, driving her to the edge of reason.

And then she fell over the edge. She screamed his name as pleasure overwhelmed and devastated her. He tensed inside her before thrusting deep and joining her in the madness. He groaned, but he didn’t call her name.

He didn’t know her name. But he didn’t even call her Sybil. Maybe because he knew that wasn’t her. She wasn’t really anyone anymore.

But now she was his.

No matter that she wore another man’s ring, her heart belonged to Dalton Reyes.

* * *

C
URLED
AGAINST
HIM
, she slept again—her small, pale-skinned hand splayed over his chest. Even in the darkness, the diamond glittered and taunted him. It was big. Whoever had given it to her had money.

While Dalton had a nice condo, he didn’t have any extra cash. He wouldn’t have been able to afford a ring like that. Of course, he could always sell his place. The thought had him tensing with shock. What the hell was he thinking?

Obviously he wasn’t or he wouldn’t have made love with an injured witness. No, she wasn’t a witness. A witness saw something happen to someone else. She hadn’t seen anything—at least not that she could remember. She was the victim.

She had been victimized. And now he had taken advantage of her. She had wanted him, but that was because he was the only person she knew now that her mind had been wiped clean.

He had done some bad things in his life—before he’d finally started listening to his grandmother. But those things had felt wrong.

Making love with her hadn’t felt wrong. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything ever feeling as right. As perfect.

She was perfect.

And by now her face was probably plastered all over the news. Someone would recognize her and come for her. Of course, he had always known that someone was coming for her. The killer and her fiancé. Were they the same person?

Or was her fiancé another victim?

He had checked in with the agents following up on the male bodies that had been found. So far none of the ones identified had a missing fiancée. But that didn’t mean that his body couldn’t still be out there. In fact, if this killer was as good as Jared Bell believed, that body might never be found.

But, even though no leads had panned out yet, Dalton wouldn’t give up. He had made promises to her. He had vowed to catch the man trying to kill her, and he’d vowed to find out who she was.

Tracking down a killer gave him no pause. He’d been doing that since he was a teenager. But tracking down her identity, giving her back her old life, that gave him pause.

He was reluctant for her memory to return because then she wouldn’t be his anymore. He nearly laughed aloud at that crazy thought. She had never been his.

Maybe he was so sleep deprived that his mind was getting messed up. He wasn’t like Blaine and Ash. He wasn’t going to fall in love with a witness or suspect or a victim. He wasn’t going to rush to the altar so he could live happily-ever-after. Even as a kid he’d never believed in fairy tales.

Her hand moved on his chest, caressing his skin. When he looked at her face, her eyes were open—the silvery gray glittering in the faint light like that diamond. Then her hand moved lower, encircling him.

There was no such thing as happily-ever-after. But he could enjoy the happiness of the moment. He could enjoy the woman while he still had her. He reached for her, tugging her up to straddle him.

She gasped as she came down on him, taking him deep inside her. Then she moaned at the sensation.

She was so hot. So tight. So wet and ready for him. He moved in a frenzy, but she came along with him for the ride. She gripped his shoulders and then his arms.

He pulled her head down for his kiss. He teased her lips with his tongue before moving his mouth lower, to tease her nipples too.

She came apart in his arms, screaming his name, as her body exploded around him. He didn’t ease up; he kept thrusting until she came again and again.

Then, finally, when he could bear the tension in his body no longer, he joined her in ecstasy. She collapsed onto his chest, her skin damp against his.

“Oh...” she murmured. “That was...”

“Amazing?”

“Overwhelming.”

That was how he felt, too. Overwhelmed with emotions he had never felt before. He closed his arms around her, holding her to him.

After the news reports, people would come for her. But he wasn’t sure he would be able to let her go.

Ever.

* * *

H
ER
FACE
TAUNTED
him from the television. No matter what station he flipped to, she was there—looking so brave and beautiful in front of the reporters. And that damn agent stood beside her. A muscle twitching along his clenched jaw, Reyes looked irritated.

He
was more than irritated. He was furious. Rage overcame him, blinding him again with its intensity. And he hurled the remote. He wasn’t so blind that he missed. It struck the television screen but bounced off onto the threadbare carpet on the floor. The remote broke into little plastic pieces.

But the television, like the woman, was unharmed. She stared at him, her image daring him to finish what he’d started. He would. He always did.

So he lifted the lamp from the table beside the bed and jerked the cord from the wall. Then he hurled that at the television. Both it and the lamp crashed onto the floor. Sparks flew up from the TV as it shorted out and its screen shattered.

She was gone.

And soon both she and Agent Reyes would be gone for good.