Hunting (9 page)

She saved the CCU bullpen
for last, knowing she’d want to spend a few extra minutes visiting
when she got up there. Sometimes that was the only place she saw
Georgia in a week. The CCU teams were sent all over the country,
often at a moment’s notice, and it made planning anything together
difficult.

It looked like the full
complement of agents for the CCU was present for once. Not that
surprising, since it was the week after Christmas, and New Year’s
Eve was the next night.

Jules was planning on
hanging out with Georgia and Ana’s families until around one, then
heading home.

She had a big week coming
up, and she wanted some time to relax.

The first person she saw
was Evan Stephenson. She shivered.

He looked so much like his
father.

Roger Stephenson had
featured in a few of her late night bad dreams—how could he
not?

No woman liked being the
target of a madman.

Evan watched her, quietly,
like he had done from the first time they’d been in the same
room.

Just like his father had
watched her.

Jules deliberately looked
away from him, hoping her feelings weren’t showing on her
face.

Looked away from Evan and
straight into blue, blue eyes.

Rats.

He knew what she was
thinking; he always did.

The majority of the files
in her arms were for his team. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
She should have sent Mia…

She’d done her best to
avoid him since the day he’d driven her home—at his insistence—from
the hospital. Something had happened between them in that North St.
Louis basement to change things between them, and that terrified
her. Confused her.

Change between her and
Malachi Brockman was not something she would ever be comfortable
with.

He was walking toward
her.

Jules held the dozen or so
files out to him, a barrier between them.

He took them, then wrapped
his free hand around her arm. He pulled her close to whisper. “You
can’t avoid him forever.”

“
It’s none of your
business.” She tried to shake him off. Why did his touch always
burn her skin?

She’d been touched by
attractive men before. Some were even available men—if she’d been
interested. None of those men came even close to burning her with
just a brush of a finger. So why did this lughead?

Or was it—God help her—that
she was just more aware of this man now?

“
Julia—”

“
Dammit, Malachi. Just
leave me alone. I can deal with it without your help!”

She dropped the files on
the nearest desk, in front of the nearest agent—Alessandra—and
walked away.

More like, ran away. And
she knew it.

Well. Al grabbed the files
Jules had dropped on her desk and began passing them out to the
appropriate teams.

Malachi was still staring
after Jules as she stormed away. Al hid a grin.

Did they realize how cute
they were when they were together?

Somehow she doubted
it.

Georgia was also watching
Malachi, a considering look on her own face.

He stood in the middle of
the bullpen for the longest time, almost oblivious to the attention
he was still getting. Al felt almost sorry for her brother. He’d
always had it so easy with women. Yet she knew none of them had
made a dent in his heart. Was Jules going to be
different?

Or was it more likely that
he just had feelings for her because of what they’d went
through?

He finally looked up at her
as she passed by him for the third time. “It can’t be easy for
her.”

She knew what he meant, had
seen Jules skitter out of the room whenever Evan was around, or
whenever she’d have to speak with the other agent directly. And Al
couldn’t really blame her.

But Evan had been in St.
Louis for five or six months now, as a member of Al’s team. And she
liked him, genuinely felt he was a good agent and a good
person.

And not responsible for his
father’s actions that had ended up with Jules—and Carrie and
Georgia—nearly dead. It wasn’t fair to blame Evan, and Jules had
even admitted that to Al on a few occasions.

But that didn’t mean Jules
wanted to interact with Evan.

And everyone had made a
point of giving Jules her space after she’d recovered from Roger
Stephenson’s attack and transferred to PAVAD. Had that been a
mistake?

Mal finally went into his
own office, a look of consideration on his handsome
face.

Her brother was a good
looking guy and she was proud of him. But sometimes, he could be a
bit dense.

This was probably one of
them.

Al started whistling as she
finished handing out the files.

The last one went to
Georgia. Al hopped on the corner of the darker haired woman’s desk.
“So. Should I tell him Jules is flying up with him to South Dakota
Monday?”

Georgia’s eyes were
narrowed, and a somewhat wicked grin was on her lips. “No. No,
don’t. I think the two of them might just have a few things they
need to work out between them…I never suspected. Even at
Thanksgiving. But…he looked at her differently, didn’t
he?”

Al couldn’t agree more.
“Yep. I think it started before they were attacked.”

“
She’ll run. Rick scared
the heck out of her, but he wore down her defenses in less than
three months.”

“
What was he like? Anything
like Mal?” Georgia didn’t speak of the man she’d been engaged to
often, and even less so of his brother.

“
Mmm. In a few ways. He had
a good sense of humor. And was very dedicated to his job. But Rick
was a…less intense…kind of person, whereas Jules had the drive and
focus. And ambition. When she wanted something she went full-force.
She didn’t stop until she got it, until things worked out the way
she wanted. Like this drive to get Ruthie. This is the first of
anything, anyone, that has mattered to Jules in a really long time.
I don’t think she realizes that yet. I think someone like Rick was
what Jules needed back then. Now, I think someone with more passion
for things might actually help her come out of that shell she’s
built around herself.”

“
But will she be good for
Malachi.”

Georgia stared up at
Malachi’s office for the longest time. Then she looked back at Al,
a soft and warm expression in her eyes. “You know, I think she
will…”

Al certainly hoped
so.

Her office beckoned, and
Jules wasted no time finding her way to the little corner of the
morgue in the annex. Here, she could finally release some of the
tension running through her body. Why did she let that blue-eyed
irritant get under her skin so much? Why?

Even Rick at his most
obnoxious—and he’d been that way on several occasions—had never
heated her quite the way Malachi Perfect Brockman did. And that was
a good thing, right? That her husband hadn’t torn her up this
way?

“
Boss?”

Jules raised her head off
the desk and turned toward the open door. She should have closed
it. “Yes, Mia?”

“
I have the Gibson file you
wanted. What should I do with it?” The file was just an excuse. Mia
was worried about her, and this was her way of asking. Guilt hit
Jules again. Why were people always so worried about her? Didn’t
they know she could take care of herself just fine?

“
I’ll take it. I want to
have another look before I forget what it is I’m looking for.” She
held out her hand and Mia placed the file in it. Mia’s sleeve fell
back, exposing the nasty burn scar that Jules knew extended up
three quarters of the way to her shoulder. On both arms.

Burns Mia had received when
Roger Stephenson set the hotel they were staying in on fire. When
Mia had been the last one pulled from the building. When the
volunteer firefighters had carried her to safety. Mia had been
damned lucky and everyone knew that.

But Jules couldn’t see
those scars without thinking what if the firefighters had been a
minute later at breaking down Mia’s door? What if Hell hadn’t
insisted Georgia sleep in his room, despite PAVAD
policy?

What if Jules hadn’t seen
the smoke from her spot at the diner window that night and called
911? What if she’d sat on the other side of the diner like
she’d first considered?

How many of her friends
would she have buried because Stephenson was in her
room?

How did Mia feel, with
Stephenson’s son working upstairs? Why hadn’t they ever talked
about it? Mia and she had a decent relationship; they worked well
together, were friendly without being best buds, and Jules cared
about the younger woman. She’d tried not to, but it had happened
anyway. It was hard not to care about Mia. She was a sweet, nice,
quiet young woman with a lot of potential. And she went out of her
way to take care of Jules at work.

But was Mia dealing with
things ok? Malachi seemed to think Jules wasn’t dealing with
things. But wasn’t she? She hadn’t gone off the deep end when she
learned that Stephenson had fixated on her, or when he’d knocked
her upside the head, or went loony tunes when she woke up locked in
a basement with Malachi, had she?

No, she’d remained calm
when needed, and then dealt with it after hours. Like anyone else
in her position would do. Like anyone with her training would
do.

She saw death and horror
every single day. What made him think she couldn’t handle it when
that death or horror touched her life much more intimately? When
that horror was directed at her?

He saw the worst of
humanity, just as much as she. No, he didn’t cut up the results
like she did, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle
it.

She’d been trained to deal
with this stuff—first as a physician and second as a federal agent,
and third as a forensic pathologist. She didn’t need some child
psychologist telling her she needed to ‘start the healing
process’.

Blah. She knew how bodies
healed—one platelet at a time.

In her case, that meant one
day—sometimes one hour—at a time since Rick’s death. The wound
would close eventually. She didn’t need Malachi Brockman acting as
an antiseptic.

Gah. The very thought of
Malachi irritated her at a time when she should be focused on
preparing for Ruthie. She didn’t need the distraction that was
Malachi, not right now. Probably not right ever.

“
Dr. Bellows? Are you all
right?” Mia was still at the door. Jules forced her attention back
to the world around her.

“
I’m sorry, I
was…thinking.”

“
About the Gibson case?
Anything I can help with?”

“
No. About Stephenson. And
this place. And certain…people…in it.”

“
What about him?” Mia’s
words were lower now, her face more subdued. “He’s not getting out,
is he?”

“
No. But…I passed his son
in the bullpen. And he looks just like him. It was a bit…freaky for
a moment, to say the least. It always is.”

“
Yeah. It is.” Mia bit her
lip, then sank into the rarely used chair in front of Jules’ desk.
“You know…I never said a word to Agent Stephenson. Nothing, yet…I’m
reminded of him and what he did every day.” She held out her hands
for Jules to see. “A few moments more in that hotel room, and I’d
be dead. We both know what I could have looked like.”

“
Are you going to have the
surgery?” Mia was a strong candidate for successful plastic surgery
to conceal or repair a high percentage of the burned area. Jules
had snuck a peek at the medical file for her assistant one day. It
had been a day several months ago, and she’d been concerned. Mia
had been in so much pain that day.

“
I don’t know. I have full
function in my left arm. And seventy percent in my right. Would a
cosmetic surgery fix that thirty percent? What odds? I am still
thinking about it.”

“
I think about him, too,
Mia. And seeing his son? Someone in the powers that be think
sending that guy here is a laugh a minute.” Just another sick joke
fate had played on her. But at least the guy seemed to understand
to keep his distance from her, and Jules did appreciate
that.

And she tried hard not to
be that way toward a guy she’d never even spoken to. But when she
looked at him, she saw his father’s fist headed right at her head.
Felt his father’s hand around her throat, shaking her. And then she
went home and relived the whole thing in her sleep.

Dammit. Maybe Malachi
Perfect Brockman did have a bit of a point. Maybe she hadn’t fully
dealt with the Stephenson-experience? She jerked up from her chair.
“Come on.”

“
Where?”

“
To see Evan Stephenson.”
She grabbed Mia’s hand and pulled the taller woman toward the
door.