Nameless (21 page)

Then he pushed all the way inside, burrowed fully between her thighs and kissed her until she could no longer hold her breath.

She arched her hips, he moved in deeper still.

A hard poke in her ribs had her gasping, “Wait!” She struggled to speak. “Gun!”

He drew back slightly, his breath as ragged as her own. She wrestled the weapon out of its holster. Couldn’t drop it, so she held on to it, wrapped that arm around his neck and kept the door from swaying inward with the other.

The harder he pounded, the harder her stilettos scrambled for purchase on that slick surface. His movements grew frantic, his breathing more jagged. Finally—oh God!—he was losing it the way she had twice already.

He stopped mid-stroke. She wanted to scream. Her body throbbed for more.

He nibbled at her lips. “I do love those lips, Grace.”

“Move,” she ordered, shifting her hips, contracting those inner muscles with all her might.

He shuddered. “In a moment. But first.” He teased her lips with his own. “Just one more for the road.”

Confusion reigned for about two seconds, and then he caressed her where his penis already had her stretched so tight. Massaged and pressed until she felt herself coming all over again. Then he moved once more, in and out, slowly, making her breath catch, making her body convulse all the harder.

He started to come. Closed his eyes and worked it out, one measured stroke at a time.

He leaned into her, kissed her lips tenderly as if he hadn’t just made her come three times.

He braced her weight against him until her feet were steady on the floor, then he withdrew. The sensation made her gasp, made her ache at the loss.

Stunned, bewildered, tingly, out of breath … she felt all those things.

He pushed her skirt down her thighs, took the weapon from her hand and tucked it back into its holster. “You’d better go, Agent Grace.”

She nodded, uncertain of her voice.

Vivian slipped out the door, glanced around the room. The sight of the urinals hanging on the wall drove reality home. She had just had sex in a men’s bathroom. In a stall!

With McBride.

She strode out the door, thank God without encountering another man, and darted into the ladies’ room.

Her eyes rounded at the image in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. Her blouse was twisted.

“So, so dumb.”

She righted her clothes. Washed her hands. And smoothed her hair.

Pull it together.
She couldn’t go back out there and face him if she didn’t.

Deep breath. It was just sex. No big deal. In an hour or so he would be gone and it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Except that it did matter.

He was leaving and this case wasn’t right.

There would be another e-mail from Devoted Fan. And without McBride …

She touched the holster at her waist. Where was her phone? The sound of metal bouncing on tile echoed in her head.

“Shit.” She had left it in the men’s room. Holding back the urge to run, she walked to the door.

McBride leaned against the wall between the two restrooms.

He held up her cell phone. “Looking for this?”

She snatched it from his hand. “Thanks.”

The phone vibrated against her palm. She jumped.

“I’ll catch up with Pratt.” McBride pushed off the wall and sauntered back to the table.

Vivian watched him walk away, the long fluid strides making her throat dry.

Pratt looked up, came to attention as if he had been dozing as McBride joined him.

Vivian’s phone vibrated again.

She cleared her throat and answered it. “Grace.”

Worth.

One sentence.

Don’t let McBride get on that plane.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

1000 Eighteenth Street
9:00 A.M.

There wasn’t a lot happening in downtown Birmingham as nine o’clock rolled around on a Sunday morning. The city looked deserted. McBride figured most of the good folks in this Southern town were probably having breakfast or getting ready for church. But every damned reporter from Huntsville to Montgomery had joined in the vigil outside the Bureau gates.

If it bleeds it leads. And this one was bleeding Bureau blue. Andrew Quinn had moved up the hierarchy during his service, all the way to the executive level before retiring. But the bigger headline was the man wielding the gun, Derrick Braden—grieving father and child advocate.

Just like three years ago all over again. McBride could have done without that particular trip down memory lane.

Birmingham PD forced the mob back as Grace turned her Explorer onto the block. Once they were inside the gate, the camera flashes and shouted questions accompanied their trip from the vehicle to the main entrance of the building. With no guard on duty inside just yet, a slide of Grace’s ID card got them through the door and out of reach.

Just another circus act. This bizarre story and its connection to a high-profile federal case of the past would boost ratings and everyone wanted center ring.

Judging by the number of bodies rushing around inside, McBride decided that all agents assigned to Birmingham’s field office and maybe some borrowed ones from a neighboring office were on hand. Though he didn’t recognize some of the faces, he was certain they were all feds. He could spot a federal agent a mile off. Ever-present formal bearing, shoes always shined, and sleek business uniforms ready for inspection. Could shoot ’em and bury ’em in the same suit.

McBride, on the other hand, wore his comfortably tattered jeans, his favorite khaki shirt that was now missing two buttons, and the earthy feminine scent of Special Agent Vivian Grace.

He should be ashamed of himself for having sex with her in a bathroom stall, but he wasn’t.

If he got the chance, he’d do it again.

As soon as they reached the third floor, ASAC Talley invited McBride to wait in the conference room then diverted Grace to Worth’s office. Gathered around the long table were a couple of the usual suspects, Agents Pratt and Davis. Schaffer and Aldridge were conspicuously missing.

Then the expected waiting game began.

McBride loathed waiting. The Bureau utilized the tactic for building and manipulating three things: discomfort, frustration, and fear. Even when they said please and thank you, offered coffee and promised to be right with you, the maneuver was designed for promoting one of those three elements. He should know, he had utilized that very method on enough suspects.

On cue, the instant McBride lowered his empty cup to the table, Pratt jumped to the task of going for a coffee refill. There was always the chance that the agent had taken this particular task on as his personal quest to support the effort of keeping McBride functioning. But, more likely, he had been instructed to make sure McBride didn’t get antsy.

Across the room, the timeline related to the ongoing investigation into Devoted Fan remained intact. Pictures and notes regarding Braden and Quinn had been posted, along with a sidebar related to investigative reporter Nadine Goodman’s breaking news. Interestingly, two additional computers had been set up on one side of the room, along with a second plasma monitor. A complete command post.

McBride doubted that he had been dragged back here and left with Pratt and Davis to stare at each other if another e-mail had been received. Wasting the allotted time would be a major infraction of procedure. Worth was too anal for that. Whatever was going down, Worth was prepping for how to approach McBride on the situation. The additional search and monitor systems set up in here indicated the same. Something was definitely brewing around here besides the local supermarket’s store brand of coffee.

There was always the chance that they had come up with some aspect of this investigation to blame on him. But McBride wasn’t worried. What could they possibly do to him that they hadn’t already done?

Couldn’t destroy his career since he didn’t have one and, oh yeah, they had done that already anyway. Couldn’t take away his life … he didn’t have one of those either.

All present at the table sat in silence, suggesting that orders not to discuss whatever had occurred since late last night had been issued or that the agents were as in the dark as McBride. Just something else he loathed, the tendency of the managerial level to hold back as much knowledge for as long as possible in order to ensure they wielded all the power.

They could have it; he wanted no part of it.

There would be another flight to Miami sometime today. As long as he wasn’t taken into custody and didn’t go completely stupid, he still had a chance of getting out of here.

As if some Fate had it in for him more so than usual, Grace entered the room and McBride’s attention riveted to her. The jade suit fit her shape in a way that had him remembering every single curve and mound he’d explored. An unfamiliar and annoying tightening sensation in his chest made him want to stretch it out or walk it off.

Talley and Worth appeared, preempting any opportunity to ask Grace what the hell was up now. Or to drag her to the nearest closet and go for an encore. He doubted she would allow that to happen again in this lifetime.

If she hadn’t been so pissed off at him and frustrated with Worth and the case, McBride felt reasonably certain that walk on the wild side at the airport wouldn’t have happened at all.

Grace was far too controlled under normal circumstances.

One thing he could say for certain, she damned sure hadn’t disappeared for even a second while they were bumping and grinding.

Worth assumed a position at the head of the table, placed a file folder there, then pushed his lapels aside and rested his hands on his hips. His expression was unreadable and that nudged at McBride’s suspicions. Since he’d basically slept about half an hour last night, he wasn’t going to waste any energy worrying about whatever this guy had on his mind. Good, bad, or indifferent, McBride was halfway out of here already.

“McBride,” Worth announced, glancing around the table as if what he was about to say was of particular importance to all present. “I, and the Bureau, owe you an apology.”

Now there was a revelation he hadn’t seen coming. McBride folded his arms over his chest and studied the man with avid curiosity. He felt Grace looking at him but he was enjoying watching Worth sweat too much to meet her eyes.

“You were correct,” Worth went on, “when you suggested that the leak was in this office.” He surveyed those seated around the table for a moment before continuing. “Agent Aldridge inadvertently mentioned your participation in this case to an acquaintance who then tipped off his friend Nadine Goodman. Agent Aldridge realized the mistake was his late last night. He will remain on administrative leave until the case is resolved.”

McBride kept the “told you so” to himself. The open apology was more than he had expected. Maybe Worth wasn’t all asshole.

“According to Ms. Goodman,” Worth explained, “she sent an associate she refused to identify down to Key West to get some current background on you. The overly enthusiastic associate broke into your home and discovered some old work files you evidently have in your possession. He found a copy of the final report you had written on the Braden case and passed certain key details to Goodman who used the information in her expose.”

At least now McBride knew for sure what was in those boxes. “The Bureau shipped four boxes to me. I never opened them,” he clarified just to ensure there was no misunderstanding this time.

“Agent Grace explained that,” Worth acknowledged. “As a precautionary measure, Agent Schaffer is en route to Key West to go through those boxes to see if there is anything else that might prove relevant to this case. Though Goodman insisted that her associate didn’t physically remove anything from your home or pass along any other information not yet released, we want to verify that for our own edification. There’s no word yet whether charges will be pressed against Goodman.” Worth’s expression remained closed, his tone businesslike. “Since a crime was committed at your residence we didn’t need your permission to have a look.”

No big deal. McBride didn’t have anything to hide. “Get to the point, Worth.” He didn’t see any reason to beat around the bush either. There would be a point. The apology was to set the stage, maybe earn a few points before going for the real target. “Why am I still here?”

Worth stared at the table a moment before leveling his attention back on McBride. “Director Stone has asked that, in addition to passing along his sincerest apologies, I implore you, on his behalf, to give your continued cooperation in stopping this madman.”

McBride took a beat to absorb and truly appreciate the confession. Three years ago they had taken
everything
from him, hung him out to dry in the worst way. If they expected him to be grateful now, they were going to be seriously disappointed.

“Don’t you just hate when that happens?” McBride lifted one shoulder in a negligible shrug. “If I hadn’t been right, you wouldn’t have to beg like this. Must be humiliating.”

“McBride,” Grace cautioned.

Worth held up his hand to silence Grace. “McBride and I are going to need a moment.”

Grace and the others stood and filed out of the room. She shot McBride one final warning look as she made her exit.

When the door closed, Worth tried valiantly to hang on to his professional tone but he failed. “That’s the difference between us, McBride.” That firm grip on his Bureau-perfect demeanor was gone; outrage had scratched its way to the surface and seized control. “I don’t think for one second that I know everything or that I’m always right. I fully understand that I’m only human and that mistakes are inevitable.

“Unlike you,” he went on, disdain oozing from every pore, “I don’t assume that no one else can do the job the way I can. Isn’t that what happened three years ago?” he goaded. “You thought you were the only agent in your unit who could do the job right. You worked day and night, the way I heard it. Rarely slept, hardly even went home. Your termination report said you tried to solve all the cases personally. Had done so for years. A real team player.”