Disarming Detective (5 page)

Diana sat in the chair across from Logan, a frown creasing her forehead. “Honey, I already told Laura’s mom you’d pick her up at seven.” Diana turned back to Ella, and asked, “So, Ella, what made you join the FBI?”

If she hadn’t still been focused on not staring slack-jawed at Logan and his mother during their exchange, Ella might have tensed up at the question. As it was, she’d barely opened her mouth to answer when Logan cut in.

“You’re going to have to call her back, Mom.”

“You can’t work all the time, Logan. A few hours—”

“Logan!” The woman who walked into the room in jeans and a T-shirt, her dark brown hair plaited, and who shared the green Greer eyes, was clearly Logan’s younger sister.

Even though they lived in the same town and presumably saw each other all the time, Logan gave his sister a tight hug, then said, “Becky, this is Ella Cortez.”

Ella stood, self-consciously tugging her T-shirt down over the gun holstered on her hip as Becky hugged her just like Logan’s mom had done, with the kind of easy familiarity her own family could never hope to match. At least not with her. Not since a single event had changed her life plans and she’d left Indiana to join the Bureau all those years ago.

The pang of loneliness caught her off guard. There’d been a time when she’d expected to stay in Indiana like her brothers. It had been such a tight-knit community where they lived, with her parents, brothers, and grandparents. Growing up, she’d envisioned herself settling down there, too; working at a safe, normal job, getting married, having kids.

But it had been almost a decade since the Fishhook Rapist had made Maggie his very first victim and all those plans had changed. She’d made her choice. If her family hadn’t accepted it by now, they never would.

“Did I just hear you getting roped into another date with some lonely woman?” Becky asked Logan as she flopped onto the couch next to him.

Her tone was light. If it hadn’t been for the deep shadows under her red-rimmed eyes, Ella might not have known she was grieving.

Logan scowled at her. “Yeah, well, not this time. And don’t worry, Becky, Mom will be after you next.”

“Ha!” Becky shot back. “Unlike you, big brother, I just say no.”

“Logan—” Diana tried again.

“Not this time, Mom.”

Becky looked from Ella to Logan to her mom and then laughed. It sounded rough, the laugh of someone who hadn’t found anything funny in a while. “So, how come I’ve never met you before, Ella? It must be pretty serious if Logan’s refusing to go out with whoever Mom’s set him up with this time.”

Heat crawled up Ella’s neck at how easy it was to suddenly imagine she was here in a totally different context. How easy it was to imagine having something “pretty serious” with the intense homicide detective.

What was wrong with her? Logan Greer was a colleague and she had to work with him on what might be the most important case of her career. He was off-limits.

“Ella doesn’t live here,” Diana said, before she’d mustered a reply.

At the same moment, Logan told her, “Ella’s not my date. She’s consulting from the FBI.”

All humor fled Becky’s face, leaving behind a strained expression, and Ella saw not Logan’s little sister, but a loved one of a victim.

Ella gave herself a mental slap for losing her focus. She was here for a case and she was completely failing to maintain proper boundaries.

“FBI?” Becky said, her voice wobbly. “Are you here about Theresa?”

Ella tried not to fidget. “Unofficially, yes.”

Becky looked from her to Logan and back again. “So, Logan is right? Becky was murdered by a
serial killer
?”

Ella glanced questioningly at Logan. He shared case theories with his family?

“Guess you’re not used to small towns,” Logan said, answering her unspoken question. “Nothing is secret here.”

She definitely
was
used to small towns; she was from one herself—an old farming community that had gotten partially enveloped by the surrounding college-town melting pot but somehow still kept its close-knit feel. But she wasn’t used to being a cop in one. “We’re checking into that possibility,” Ella said, uncomfortable.

Before Becky could ask anything else, Logan’s father strode into the room. Besides being the only member of the Greer family with blue eyes, he looked like an older version of Logan. He stopped in front of her and offered his hand. “I’m Andrew Greer. You must be Ella Cortez. Nice to have you join us.”

And suddenly, Ella understood all the references she’d heard the police chief shout over the phone about Logan’s family. Everything about Andrew, from his perfect posture to his instant smile and handshake, screamed
politician
. “Thank you. You must be Mayor Greer. Am I correct?”

Andrew gave her a wink and let go of her hand. “Until I get Logan here to succeed me.” Logan rolled his eyes, but Andrew continued. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure what to think about Logan bringing in a profiler, but now I’m a believer. What gave me away, Ella?”

Ella smiled back at him. So, this was where Logan got his charm. “Trick of the trade. If I divulge all my secrets, they’ll kick me out of the club.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Andrew turned to his wife. “Should we eat?”

“Not yet.” Becky stood, folding her arms as she stared at Ella. “Don’t you want to question me about Theresa?” She sounded wrung out, but the strength underneath reminded Ella of Logan.

Ella shifted from one foot to the other. At the FBI, she was generally at a remove from the investigations. Most of the time, she didn’t even leave Virginia—she consulted on a case directly from a police file. When she did travel somewhere to give a criminal personality profile, she still didn’t do interviews—except on rare occasions with suspects. She was almost never involved in questioning the friends and families of victims. And she didn’t want to start with Logan’s little sister.

“Becky, we already took your statement,” Logan said quietly, getting to his feet and putting a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

“What if Ella has different questions?”

“I usually work from the police files,” Ella said gently, forcing herself to look directly into Becky’s misery-filled eyes. “If there’s something else I need, I’ll let your brother know.”

“Well—” Andrew started, in his cheery, politician’s voice.

Becky cut him off. “Okay. But just answer this for me—how would Theresa have run into a serial killer? It’s not like we were out partying with weirdos.” Her voice broke, but she composed herself and managed to say, “We hung out at the beach. We went dancing at the club right in town. We went shopping. It was mostly just the two of us. I don’t think she talked to a single person I didn’t know.” She looked from Logan to Ella, tears filling her eyes. Her voice wobbled when she asked, “Did
I
introduce her to the person who killed her?”

“No,” Logan insisted. “This isn’t your fault.”

“There’s a good chance that whoever killed her never even spoke to her,” Ella said.

Relief broke through the misery in Becky’s eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

Becky wiped her hand over her eyes and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s go have dinner.” She hurried out of the room and after sharing a concerned glance, her parents followed.

Alone in the family room, Logan put his hand on Ella’s arm and said softly, “Thank you.”

Ella shrugged, trying to ignore how close Logan was standing, how sensitive the skin under his fingers had suddenly become, and trying to distract herself with what she knew. Her job. “There’s a very good chance it’s true. Yes, the killer had probably been watching Theresa, but it looks like the abduction was an ambush. Someone who does that probably isn’t confident. It’s unlikely he approached his victims first.”

She took a deep breath, aware that she’d been talking too fast, that Logan hadn’t taken his hand off her arm. Was it her imagination or had he shifted closer? She could smell his aftershave, something woodsy that made her want to close her eyes and inhale. She tilted her head back a little farther, gazing up into his eyes.

The moss green that had drawn her in from the moment she met him was just a small ring around his pupils now. The desire in his eyes seemed to heat her whole body.

She wasn’t sure if she stretched up on her tiptoes or he leaned down, but his lips were inches from hers, his breath on her face. One hand moved from her arm to the back of her head and he slipped his other hand onto her lower back, pulling her closer.

He gave her plenty of time to do the professional thing and back away, but instead she swayed forward and pressed her mouth to his. The stubble on his chin felt abrasive, but his lips were soft as they slowly brushed hers, as though he was determined to memorize every millimeter.

She was the one who insisted on more, who fused her body tightly to his until he slid his tongue between her lips and backed her against the wall. She wove her fingers through his hair and clung tightly to him as his mouth covered hers. Only a loud clink of silverware against china brought her to her senses.

She turned her head away from Logan’s and pried her hands off him. Her legs shook and her face burned even hotter as she met his eyes.

He was breathing as heavily as she was. His eyes were hooded, but she could still see passion there, and she got the feeling that if she asked, he’d forget dinner and follow her back to her hotel.

She actually didn’t know if she was going to suggest it until she heard herself say instead, “Sorry. That was a mistake.”

Logan blinked, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at her. Finally, he gave her that sexy, one-sided grin and winked. “Then try to keep your hands off me.” He ran a hand over hair she’d mussed, then headed for the dining room. “Let’s go to dinner.”

Ella followed more slowly, trying to will her pulse back to a normal rate.
Get it together, Cortez.

She didn’t have time to mess around. There was a killer on the loose. And if she was right and it was the same person who’d raped Maggie back in college, he wasn’t going to stay in Florida forever. He’d be going somewhere else soon, looking for a new victim to dangle in front of the FBI, and she’d lose her shot at him.

She owed it to Maggie—and Scott and herself—to catch this guy. Especially since, after almost a decade of silence, the Fishhook Rapist had sent Maggie a letter. As a profiler, Ella knew that unexpected contact like that could be a precursor to physical contact. Much as Maggie had tried to play it cool, Ella knew her friend was secretly terrified. And right now, Ella might have the chance to end Maggie’s years of silent, buried fear.

It didn’t matter what Logan Greer did to her libido. She was going to have to figure out how to resist him.

Chapter Four

“How did Logan get the FBI to give him a profiler?” Hank O’Connor leaned against the door frame, blocking Ella’s entrance to the Oakville police station with his sheer bulk.

Ella busied herself hefting her briefcase, avoiding eye contact, hoping a quick answer would satisfy him. “We like to get involved if we think there’s a serial case.”

Hank snorted. “Really? I thought there was some big, long process to get a profiler. He find a way to cut to the front of the line?”

The innuendo in Hank’s tone made Ella glance up to his dark brown eyes. Yep, definite laughter there. Which was better than true suspicion about whether proper Bureau protocol had been followed, but not by much. Especially considering the way she’d plastered herself to Logan at his parents’ house last night.

A flush started climbing Ella’s neck, so she put on her flat, all-business tone. “Once I have enough to provide a useful profile, I’ll be on to my next case.” She looked pointedly at where he leaned against the door. “If you don’t mind, I’m expected in the conference room.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but got out of her way. As she passed, he muttered, “Guess it’s true. Feds have no sense of humor.”

Ella didn’t slow her stride, just marched straight to the conference room at the back of the station that Logan had booked so they could go over Theresa’s case. It had been this or Logan’s house and after last night’s kiss, she’d immediately picked the station. Now she wondered if she’d made the wrong choice.

If it got back to her boss at BAU that she’d agreed to give a profile on her own time, her vacation could be permanent.

A lump the size of her gun formed in her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it stuck. A pact with Maggie and Scott nearly ten years ago had made her apply to the FBI, but the job had become a huge part of her life. She’d weathered her family’s disapproval, the FBI Academy’s ruthless selection process, and four years of cutting her teeth on gang cases to get into the BAU.

Her goal all along had been to get to this case. She needed to catch Maggie’s rapist, and the hook-shaped burn on the back of Theresa’s neck told her this could be her chance, but she really didn’t want to sabotage her own career to do it.

“Something wrong?” Logan asked.

Ella stumbled, catching herself on the door frame. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t realized she’d arrived at the conference room. “N-no, nothing.”

She turned her back to him, pouring a cup of coffee as a cover for calming herself. She’d never crossed the line with a colleague before. Seeing Logan today was awkward and uncomfortable—despite knowing that after two weeks, she’d never see him again.

That thought made the lump in her throat sink to her gut and settle there uncomfortably as if she’d drunk a pot of coffee on an empty stomach.

You’ve known him for two days
,
Ella reminded herself.
You can’t be this attached to him already.

But when she turned around, Logan was perched on the edge of the table, his perfectly groomed dark hair begging her to muss it up again, his green eyes studying her with concern, and she knew she was in trouble.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” Ella set her coffee on the table, then pulled a legal pad and a pen out of her briefcase. “Let’s get to work.”