Way of the Shadows (Shadow Agents #8)(11)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Friend, relative, maybe even an employee. He was someone who had access to the senator. Someone who could come to his house late at night and expect a meeting.” She wasn’t going to ignore the obvious. “I can think of one main reason for a meeting that late.”

Thomas nodded. “A meeting that probably occurred right after our accident on the bridge.” His hands dropped back to his sides.

Yes, they had both heard the M.E. reveal the estimated time of death.

“We already suspected that the senator didn’t like to get up close with his dirty work. He sent someone in D.C. to attack Mercer, so maybe he sent someone to take care of us, too.” She licked her lips. “Only that someone turned on the senator.” Why? It was her job to find out why. Her job to understand the killers. Their motivations. Their darkness.

“You think we’re looking at a professional.”

“Of a sort, yes.”

“So…” Thomas cocked his head to the right as he studied her. “What will this professional do when he realizes that he didn’t succeed in taking us out? If, of course, he was the one who came after us.”

Well, that was easy enough to answer. “There are two choices. He’ll just cut his losses and get out of town or he’ll try to finish the job.”

Thomas’s lips curved into a chilling smile. “I’d like to see him try.”

* * *

HIS HANDS WERE SHAKING.

The killer glanced down at them. They were trembling again. And even though he’d thrown away his bloodstained gloves, he could swear he saw red on his fingertips.

Duncan’s gone.

It felt so good to be free of the jerk. Duncan had always been controlling him…warning him.

No more.

The sun had risen. The snow had finally stopped falling. It was his day. No more taking orders. No more hiding.

He’d do what he wanted.

The FBI agents were gone. She was gone.

And the senator’s body would be found at any time.

He was free.

The sound of laughter drifted on the wind. The light, musical sound caught his attention. He glanced over at the diner on the right. It had just opened for breakfast. He watched as a young girl—looked as though she was barely sixteen—tried to push back the drift in front of the entrance. She was laughing because the snow kept falling back on her. Her red hair glinted in the light.

He stared at her, remembering the past.

She was so busy at her job she didn’t even see him. The road was empty. The diner always opened first thing. It would be a while before any locals wandered into the place.

He started walking toward her. She didn’t even look up as he approached. He could see her name tag.

Jenny.

Jenny must be new at the diner. He’d never seen her there before.

Then he was just a few feet from Jenny.

Her hair was a deep, dark red. She’d braided it and the braid hung over her shoulder. He was so close to her. Close enough to touch.

Jenny looked up then, and she gasped when she saw him. A hand rose to her chest, and the shovel slipped from her fingers.

He smiled at her. “Morning, ma’am.”

She blinked, and some of the alarm faded from her gaze. That was good. That was real good. He didn’t want her scared. Not yet.

He drew even closer to her. Close enough to catch her scent. She smelled sweet. He liked that. His gaze slid toward the diner. The shades were still pulled. He couldn’t see in. That meant no one could see out.

“We’ll be open in about ten more minutes,” Jenny told him. “The cook’s getting things going now.”

The cook. That would be the big, ex-lumberjack named Henry. But if Henry was getting things going in the kitchen…

Then he can’t see us out here.

And Jenny was so perfect. She reminded him of what he’d lost.

His hand lifted and brushed over her cheek.

Her eyes widened as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Mister—”

“It will hurt, Jenny,” he warned her.

Too late, Jenny opened her mouth to scream.

She never had the chance to make a sound.

* * *

NOELLE WAS ABOUT to fall flat on her face. It took all of the energy she had to climb the steps leading up to their cabin.

This place wasn’t like the one-room shack they’d slept in before. This cabin was more like a luxury resort and as far from the place in her nightmares as possible.

The EOD was footing the bill for these digs, so Noelle was more than happy to escape to the fine lodgings.

She’d been up for over thirty-six hours, minus that one rough hour of sleep she’d gotten while she’d been in Thomas’s arms.

Her gaze slanted toward him. I want you, and unless I’m mistaken, you want me, too. His words kept echoing through her mind.

The problem was Noelle wasn’t used to taking what she wanted. She was used to closing herself off from others. Used to waking from dark dreams she could never fully remember—alone.

“We need to head back to the sheriff’s station at eighteen hundred hours,” Thomas said as he secured the front door behind them. He glanced around the cabin. A spiral staircase led upstairs. “That gives us a few hours to sleep.”

And sleep was certainly her priority because of the whole almost-falling-on-her-face bit, but…

She kept thinking about what it had been like to be held in his arms. To kiss him. To touch him.

His head cocked as his eye raked over her. “Something wrong?”

“I’m just…trying to figure out who could’ve killed the senator.” Well, she should be doing that, anyway.

He grunted as he headed toward her. “Mercer is arranging for new clothes to be delivered to us.”

Since their bags were at the bottom of an icy lake, she appreciated the arrangement.

“Get some sleep, get some food, and then you’ll be able to work up a profile.”

He sure sounded confident. But it wasn’t as if she just waved a wand and magically figured out a killer. “I’ll need to head back to Lawrence’s place. I want to search every inch of that house.”

He flashed her a hard smile. “Already on the to-do list. Mercer wants us to find evidence proving Lawrence is our guy—and if the senator was working with anyone else in the attack against the EOD, we need to find out just who that person is.”

Right. Because the case wasn’t closed, not even with the death of their chief suspect.

“There are supposed to be two bedrooms upstairs,” Thomas added as he glanced up at the winding staircase. “Pick which one you want, and I’ll take the other.”