The Agent's Redemption (Special Agents At The Altar 4) (14 page)

He hadn’t asked her to move back into his bedroom. No, he definitely wasn’t in love with her.

“Yes, Penny?” she asked.

But there was no reply—just that eerie silence. She should have known it wasn’t Mrs. Payne. The wedding planner was too organized to have forgotten anything.

Her hand trembling, she knew she should click off the phone. But she hadn’t had any threats since that one in the boutique dressing room. It wasn’t that she wanted to hear any more—just that she somehow felt as if she needed to. Maybe she could figure out who was calling her—who was watching her.

But when he spoke his voice was too low and raspy to be recognizable. “You didn’t listen,” he admonished her. “By getting engaged, you’re risking your life.”

She couldn’t deny that she was—willingly—risking her life. To catch a killer...

“And now you’re going to die.”

Chapter Fifteen

Even with guards posted outside his apartment, the killer had still gotten to her. Anger and fear warred inside Jared, making his heart pound fast and hard.

“Doesn’t this prove to you how bad of an idea our engagement is?” he asked.

Becca flinched.

Had his comment hurt her? She knew the engagement wasn’t real. He couldn’t really propose to her because he cared too much about her to risk her life. But when the killer was caught...

Would she want to marry him? He’d never handled anything right with Becca. He’d rejected her love six years ago. So why would she offer it again?

She shrugged and said, “It was just a phone call.” As if it was nothing.

“He threatened your life,” Jared reminded her of what she’d told him—of what the trace on the phone had recorded.

But even though the call had been recorded, they had no clue who’d made it. “From a burner cell,” he said. Which was how all the other calls had been made. “It couldn’t be traced.”

She rubbed her hands over her arms as if she’d gotten a sudden chill.

Jared was chilled, too—from the threat, from the danger she was in. “It could be anyone...”

“It’s Harris,” she said.

“I’ll have to double-check the time the call was made,” he said. “I may have still been with him.”

Her face brightened. “You were interrogating him again?”

“Checking his alibi,” he admitted.

“I thought you did that several times already and it can’t be cracked,” she said.

“For Lexi’s murder,” he said. “I was checking for Amy Wilcox’s abduction.”

“His fiancée gave him an alibi?”

He nodded. While he suspected Priscilla Stehouwer might change her story, he didn’t share that with Becca. He didn’t want to raise her hopes—in case he was wrong. Harris’s hold on Priscilla might be stronger than Jared thought.

“He gave me another suspect, though,” Jared said. And now he was angry at her again for not telling him about Lexi’s ex.

“Of course he did,” she said. “He wants to take suspicion off himself.”

“Then why didn’t he give me the name six years ago?” Jared kept his voice low—because Alex was just playing in his room, but anger sharpened his tone when he added, “Why didn’t you?”

“I told you who hurt my sister, but you wouldn’t believe me,” she said. And now there was anger in her voice. But she glanced toward Alex’s room, as if afraid that he might have heard her.

“All you would talk about was Harris,” he agreed. “But I asked you about other boyfriends. Exes.”

She shrugged. “There was no one else—no one she ever cared enough to talk to me about like she did Harris. Not that she told me everything about Harris. If only she would have told me how he was treating her...”

“She was probably embarrassed,” Jared said. Lexi had been the older sister. And Rebecca was so smart and so strong that it would have been hard for Lexi to admit what she’d probably considered a weakness on her part. Harris was the weak one.

“She shouldn’t have been,” Becca said. “It wasn’t her fault.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he agreed. Just like it wasn’t Priscilla Stehouwer’s fault. Hopefully, she at least called the shelter.

“So what name did Harris give you?” she asked. “Who is he throwing under the bus to protect himself?”

“Lexi’s ex—George Droski.”

She laughed. “George was never her boyfriend. He was like a brother to us. He grew up next door to us. He was her best friend.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t more between them?” he asked. “He didn’t have a crush on her?”

“George loved her,” Becca said. “But he loved me, too.”

“Harris said George was obsessed with Lexi, and that he was devastated when they broke up.” As the man had walked Jared to his vehicle, he’d made certain to add to his case against George Droski.

Becca shook her head. “No. They were just friends. George didn’t like Harris, though, so that had strained their friendship to the point they’d lost touch.”

“Harris says he was jealous.”

“He was smart,” Becca said, and there was bitterness in her voice. She didn’t think she’d been smart. “He realized what a jerk Harris was before anyone else did.”

The pain and guilt in her voice reached inside Jared and squeezed his heart. He pulled her into his arms. “It’s not your fault, either.”

Now he understood why she was taking such a big risk to catch her sister’s killer—because she blamed herself.

She trembled in his arms before sliding her arms around his neck and clinging to him.

He’d missed her. Missed her being in his arms. In his bed...

A door creaked open, and Jared tensed. But it wasn’t the door to the hall. It was a bedroom door.

“Family hug,” Alex declared as he wedged between them.

Jared wanted to be part of this family. He wanted to be more than Alex’s father; he wanted to be Becca’s husband, too. But first he had to keep her alive and stop the killer who was certain to try for her again.

* * *

R
EBECCA
KNELT
BESIDE
Alex’s bed as she tucked him beneath the covers. He snuggled down, his eyes already closing as he drifted off to sleep. A smile curved his lips. He was happy.

And that was all a mother wanted for her child: happiness. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It puckered beneath her lips. And she chuckled.

He obviously didn’t want her interrupting the dreams that had already begun to play through his mind.

Still on her knees, she eased back and bumped into a hand. It covered hers and helped her to her feet. Like their son, Jared had a smile on his lips.

But she didn’t believe he was happy. He was too angry with her. When she met his gaze, though, she didn’t see any anger in his eyes. She saw only desire—desire that brought out her own desire for him.

“He’s asleep,” Jared said. He’d read him a story before going to check with the guards in the hall. “And everything’s quiet outside.”

It wasn’t quiet inside her. Emotions were rioting in her heart. She loved him so much.

He turned toward the door, but his hand was still around hers. He tugged her along behind him. When they cleared the threshold, he reached around her and closed their son’s door. His chest bumped against hers, and he stared down at her, those amber eyes intense with desire.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Bringing you to bed...”

She pointed at the door he’d closed. “I’ve been sleeping in there.”

But he headed away from that door, across the living room to the master bedroom on the other side of the apartment. “And you should have been sleeping in here.”

“Why’s that?” she asked as he led her into his bedroom.

“Because it’s where you belong,” he replied as he pushed the door closed. “With me.”

Just in his bed? Or in his life?

If she were braver, she would have asked. But it seemed to be easier for her to face a killer than Jared’s feelings for her. Because if he didn’t feel the same...

She couldn’t handle him rejecting her again.

He wasn’t rejecting her now. He was quickly disrobing her with hands that shook with his urgency and his passion. Then he was kissing her with all that passion.

Her heart began a frantic beat. His tongue slid between her lips and teased hers. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss even more.

Then she was fumbling with his clothes, her hands shaking as she unbuttoned buttons and unsnapped snaps. Then she jerked down his zipper.

He groaned. Then he murmured her name. It was only a few steps, but he carried her to the bed and followed her down onto it. The rest of their clothes disappeared until there was only skin sliding over skin.

Heat burned inside her as pressure built and wound tighter and tighter. He kissed her everywhere. Her lips. Her throat. Her breasts.

He slid his lips along the curve and across her nipple. Then he drew the point between his lips and teased it with his tongue.

She wriggled beneath him as that pressure became unbearable. She needed him too much to wait. It had been too long. “Jared...”

And she touched him. She knew exactly where would drive him crazy. His chest. His lean hips. And lower...

“Becca!” His control snapped, and he was inside her—where she needed him most. Sliding deep, filling her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, meeting every thrust. He kissed her deeply, sliding his tongue into her mouth.

Her body shuddered as pleasure overwhelmed her. If he hadn’t been kissing her, she might have screamed. Or declared her love.

Like the pleasure, love overwhelmed her.

Then he joined her in ecstasy, his body tensing as his pleasure filled her. He rolled to his side and clasped her closely in his arms. His heart beat hard and fast against hers. And he murmured her name, “Becca...”

She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. His pale brown eyes were full of intensity. It couldn’t be desire again—not so soon.

And he murmured her name again as if he was going to say more—as if he was going to express whatever intense emotion burned in his gaze.

But the doorbell rang.

Rebecca could have cursed. But he beat her to it. Then he reached for the cell phone he’d placed, along with his weapon, on the table next to the bed. He glanced at the blank screen and shook his head.

“What is it?” she asked. She shivered, maybe because he wasn’t holding her anymore, maybe because she had an ominous feeling.

“The guard at the door is supposed to call me,” he said, “not ring the bell.” He vaulted out of the bed, pulled on his pants and reached for his weapon.

Before she could say anything—warn him to be careful—he was gone, closing the bedroom door behind him. She couldn’t stay in the room. Not if he was in danger. Not if their son might be in danger, as well.

She grabbed her robe, thrust her arms through the sleeves and cinched the belt at her waist. Then she hurried into the living room.

Jared stood in the open doorway, his gun drawn. But there was no person standing in the hall. Not the guard. Not a killer. He was looking down, though, so Becca followed his gaze and saw the box.

“What is it?” she asked.

He held out his arm as if holding her back. “Don’t come any closer.”

Fear quickened her pulse. “What do you think it is?” She glanced across the living room to their son’s bedroom doorway. “Is it ticking?”

He leaned down and listened, then shook his head. “This serial killer has never used a bomb.”

She shivered. “No.”

“It would be too quick for him,” Jared said, almost as if he was thinking aloud. “Too impersonal.”

“So what’s in the box?”

“Get back,” he told her as he lifted his weapon again.

Maybe the box was only a distraction, so that someone could sneak up while they were staring at it. But she recognized the voice of the guard as he said, “Agent Bell, I’m sorry—I thought I heard something in the stairwell. It sounded like someone might have fallen. I know I should have called you before I went to investigate. But I was worried that someone was hurt...”

“It’s okay,” Jared assured the other man. “That was the distraction, so someone could leave this box.”

Rebecca stepped closer to get a better look at the box. It was wrapped in shiny silver paper, and there was a bow on the floor beside it—like it had fallen off.

“It’s a present,” she said. “A wedding present.”

For their fake wedding.

“It’s a message,” Jared said. “He knows where you are...”

“He already knew,” she said. “Whatever’s in the box is the message.”

“Do you have gloves?” Jared asked the guard. He wouldn’t want to compromise any evidence.

But Rebecca doubted there would be any inside the box. It was another threat. Another warning that she would die. But she stepped even closer as Jared donned the gloves and reached for the lid of the box.

He lifted it easily and peered inside.

“What is it?” the guard was just as curious as Rebecca. “And what’s on it?”

Lace spilled from the box like lace had spilled from the trunk of Lexi’s car when they’d found it. This lace wasn’t stained red, though. Whatever was on it was darker and dried.

“It’s a veil,” Rebecca said. Just that afternoon she’d flipped through images Penny Payne had sent her of veils, like she’d sent the bouquet and cake pictures.

“A wedding veil?” the guard asked.

She nodded. Then she waited until Jared looked at her. When his gaze was on hers, she told him what she really thought. “It’s Lexi’s veil.”

Chapter Sixteen

Other women had been murdered. The veil could have belonged to one of them. Lexi’s wasn’t the only veil that hadn’t been found. But not all of the women had intended to wear them with their gowns.

Would Becca?

Jared didn’t want their fake wedding to get that far, though—far enough that she was fitted for her gown. He needed to catch the killer first. But the next suspect he wanted to interview was proving difficult.

“I need you to come into the Chicago Bureau,” Jared told the man over the phone. He was at the Bureau now—restlessly prowling his office as he waited for the lab to get back to him about that veil.

“I don’t understand why you need to speak to me, Agent Bell,” George Droski replied.

“It’s about Lexi Drummond.”

A soft sigh rattled the phone. “I haven’t thought about Lexi in years...”

That didn’t make him sound as obsessed as Harris Mowery had claimed he was.

“Not even when you’ve seen the news about other women being murdered just like she was?” Jared asked. It would only be natural to think about her then.

A heavier sigh rattled the phone. “I guess I’ve thought about her then.”

“Another woman was just murdered.”

“I saw that on the news,” George admitted.

But was that the only way he’d learned about it? Or had he killed Amy like he’d killed all the others?

“Had you ever met her before?”

After a hesitation, George asked, “Who?”

“Amy Wilcox.”

Another hesitation and then he said, “How would I have ever met her?”

“She was a friend of Lexi’s.” Or so Becca thought.

“That was a long time ago,” George said. “A lot has happened since I saw Lexi last. I got married. I have two daughters. I really don’t remember much about back then. I think my coming in to the Bureau would just be a waste of your time, Agent Bell.”

Jared silently agreed, and he realized why Harris Mowery had mentioned George as a suspect. He’d wanted Jared to waste his time on a dead-end lead instead of pursuing a real suspect: him.

“I’d still like to talk to you,” Jared persisted. He needed to meet the man in person to assess if George Droski could fit the profile he’d done of the Butcher. “If you won’t come in, I’ll come out to meet you.”

There was another hesitation. Or maybe the man’s cell phone just had poor reception. Then George replied, “I’m sure I can get to your office soon. I’ll check my schedule and call you back.”

Since Jared didn’t have any evidence to link Droski to any of the murders, he couldn’t justify having him picked up for questioning.

“I will expect a call and a meeting soon,” Jared warned him. Because if the man tried to avoid meeting with him, then maybe he had something to hide. He clicked off the phone as his office door rattled with a knock.

He glanced up, hoping the lab tech had brought the results from the veil. But it wasn’t a tech. He opened the door and greeted the man, “Mr. Kotlarz...”

Amy Wilcox’s fiancé looked as if he hadn’t slept since she’d first disappeared. A twinge of guilt struck Jared for thinking that the man had cared more about the engagement ring he’d given his fiancée than he’d actually cared about his fiancée.

“Agent Bell,” the man’s tone was sharp with anger and disapproval. “I’m surprised to find you here. Thought you were too busy getting engaged to work Amy’s case.”

He’d obviously seen Kyle Smith’s news broadcasts.

“I am still very much working the case,” Jared assured him.

“Do you have any new leads?”

Another person, a lower-level agent, stepped into Jared’s office with an envelope. “The lab results, Agent Bell,” the young woman told him. “I know you were waiting for these.”

“Thank you,” Jared said.

She smiled and turned to leave. And Troy Kotlarz watched her walk away. Maybe he didn’t look so tired because he’d been grieving.

Jared tore open the envelope.

“Are those lab results from Amy’s crime scene?” Troy asked. “Did it take all this time to get them back?”

“No,” Jared said. “We got those back already.”

“And you didn’t call me?”

“There was nothing to report,” Jared said. “Nothing to lead us to Amy’s killer.”

“And what about the ring?” Troy asked.

Jared should have counted how many minutes it had taken the man to ask about his family heirloom. Maybe it was all he cared about, and he’d only asked the other questions so he didn’t appear callous.

Jared shook his head. “I’m sorry. It hasn’t turned up yet.”

Unable to wait until the man left, he pulled the lab results out of the envelope he’d already opened. The report confirmed that the stain on the veil was blood. Lexi Drummond’s blood.

Becca had been right.

“Have you been checking pawnshops?” Troy asked.

“No,” Jared said. “We’re looking for a killer—not a thief.”

“But if he pawned the ring, it could help you find him,” Troy suggested.

Jared nearly laughed. Kotlarz was totally unaware of his profile of the Butcher. “He wouldn’t pawn the ring.”

The color drained from the brawny man’s face. “What are you saying? That he’s keeping it? It’s some kind of sick souvenir for him?”

Jared nodded.

Serial killers often kept souvenirs, mementoes to remind them and help them relive their kills. The Bride Butcher had always kept something related to the wedding. Veils. Shoes. In Lexi’s case, her veil and her body.

“So I’ll never get the ring back then,” Troy said, his broad shoulders slumping with dejection.

Had he already had someone else picked out to give it to?

Before Jared could ask, the man walked out. Jared didn’t expect to see him again—now that he’d given up hope of finding his grandmother’s ring.

The chief passed him on his way out and gave him a curious glance. “Amy Wilcox’s fiancé?”

Jared nodded.

“Was he putting pressure on you to find her killer?”

“That wasn’t his primary concern,” Jared replied.

“Agent Munson said you had the lab results.”

Jared handed them over.

The chief rubbed a hand over his chin. “This should make you feel better about your engagement.”

“Better?” The bloodied veil was a message to Becca—that she would wind up like her sister if she tried to get married. “This proves how dangerous this is. We need to call off the engagement.” His next call would be to Kyle Smith—to give him an exclusive on his broken engagement.

Lynch slapped the report down onto Jared’s desk. “You were just given new evidence on a six-year-old case. This is the most progress you’ve made in a while.”

“Progress?” he scoffed. “This does nothing to lead us to the killer.”

“You don’t have to chase the killer anymore,” Lynch said. “You have him coming to you now.”

Jared shook his head. “Not to me—to Becca.”

“We will keep her safe,” the chief vowed. “Rebecca Drummond is the key to you finally catching the killer.”

He wanted to catch the killer, but not if it meant losing Becca.

* * *

R
EBECCA
SQUINTED
AGAINST
the lights as she stepped out of the doors of Alex’s school. Agent Campbell held tightly to her arm; whenever they were out now, he kept close to her side. He blinked against the flashing bulbs of the cameras.

The press had ambushed them—the same way they had ambushed Jared at her house that first time she’d seen him in six years. And like then, Kyle Smith led them like the alpha leading a pack of wild dogs.

He thrust a microphone into her face. “Ms. Drummond, do you really expect us to believe your engagement is real?”

Blaine tugged Rebecca away from the reporter. But Kyle followed, keeping the mike in her face. “Back off,” Agent Campbell warned him.

“It’s okay,” Rebecca told her protector. She wanted to talk to the reporter. “I want to answer his questions.”

“Of course,” Kyle said. “Because you want to use me and the rest of the media in order for you and Special Agent Jared Bell to set your trap for the Butcher.”

She blinked as if stunned by his accusation even as her heart pounded frantically with fear that the plan had been blown. It would never work now. She drew in a breath to steady herself and replied with a question of her own, “Do you think that the FBI would use a civilian to bait a killer?”

She had him stunned because he shot no question back at her.

“They would never risk my safety,” she said.

“But Special Agent Bell would,” Smith replied with his usual animosity for Jared.

“He would risk the life of the mother of his child?” she asked. “You don’t know Jared at all.”

“By putting a ring on your finger, he’s risking your life,” Smith argued.

But Rebecca wore no ring. Fortunately, she’d pulled on her gloves before she’d stepped outside, so Kyle couldn’t know her hand was bare—unless he looked closely. She slid her hands into her pockets.

“I will be safe,” she said and hoped like hell that she spoke the truth. “I wouldn’t have accepted Jared’s proposal if I didn’t believe he could keep me safe.”

Except that Jared had never proposed and probably never would even if she survived their fake engagement.

The reporter smirked. “Come on, Ms. Drummond. I think you would do anything to catch your sister’s killer.”

Maybe the man knew her better than she’d realized.

“I leave catching criminals to my fiancé,” she replied. “I’m too busy planning my wedding to the man I love.”

“You love him?” the reporter scoffed.

She nodded. “We’ve been apart for too long. You know we share a son. And we don’t want to wait a minute longer to become a real family.”

If only that were true...

“So you’re serious—your engagement is real?” the reporter persisted.

She drew in another breath and looked directly into the camera. “I am in love with Jared Bell,” she said, and realized that she spoke the truth. “I’ve been in love with Jared for six years.”

Blaine glanced at her and nodded. Either he approved of how she was handling the obnoxious reporter or he approved of her loving his friend.

“So something good came of your sister’s death then,” the reporter said, as if trying to justify Lexi’s murder.

Had Jared been right to suspect the reporter could be more involved than she’d thought? Had she been entirely too focused on Harris Mowery to the point that she hadn’t realized there could have been another killer and Lexi was just a random victim?

“I wish Jared and I had met some other way,” she said. Because then he never would have doubted her feelings the way he had six years ago. “But I’m glad that we met. And I can’t wait to become his wife.”

“Do you really think that the Butcher will ever allow that to happen?” Smith asked, almost as if he pitied her.

She kept her reply to herself and allowed Blaine to escort her through the throng of reporters. But no, she didn’t think that the Butcher would let her make it to the altar.