His eyes narrowed on her. “You heard your father call for a team to clean up after a murder?”
Zoe…be careful. “I’m sure the FBI’s team is much different. You’re not just going to make the body disappear, right?” She hurried toward the bed. She dressed as quickly as she could and tried extra hard not to glance back at the dead man. She didn’t know him. He was a complete stranger to her. A stranger who’d been ready to kill her for money.
Most people will sell out their own families for that much money.
“What body did your father make vanish?”
She was dressed. So was Victor. She hadn’t even realized he was putting on the rest of his clothes and his shoes. When she looked at his arm, she saw that the blood was soaking the sleeve of his shirt. “Luther is in jail for killing four of his associates.” She felt numb. “Why does another body matter to you now? It’s not like he’s getting out.”
His jaw locked as he turned away from her. “Don’t be too sure,” he muttered.
“What?”
But he’d bent near the body. His hands went to the guy’s pockets.
“Victor! What are you doing?”
Victor lifted his hand, holding a key ring. “I thought I got the tracker off our ride. Maybe there was another one on the SUV that I didn’t see. Or maybe he followed Russell and Lauren here—I don’t know how he found us, but I’m not taking chances.” He gave a grim nod. “What I am taking…is his ride. No one should be able to follow us in that.”
He’d put his holster back on and tucked his gun inside. The dead man’s gun—that was on the bedside table now. Victor pulled out his phone and put it to his ear.
Zoe’s gaze kept sliding to that dead man. Not my first body. With Luther as my father, how could it be? But it never got easier. Even knowing that the guy had wanted her dead…
Never any easier.
“Russell?” Victor spoke into his phone. “Yeah, yeah, get back to the motel and bring a crew with you.” A slight pause. “No, I found the bastard. Or rather, he found us. He’s here, and I’ll need you to take care of him.”
She shivered.
“No, you won’t be able to question him. You can’t question the dead. He came in, gun blazing. I had to return fire.”
Because he’d been saving her life. The hitman had given Victor the option of walking away. Of saving himself.
Instead, he killed…for me.
“I’m getting Zoe out of here. I’ll call again when we’re secure. You run the guy’s prints, check his DNA. Find out everything you can about him, got it? I’ll check in as soon as I can.”
He pushed the phone into the pocket of his jacket. Then he was reaching for her again. They stepped over the body. God, it feels wrong to just leave him! And a moment later, they were out in the cold night air.
“No one came,” Zoe whispered. “Someone must’ve heard the glass shatter—or the blast of your gun.” He’d had no silencer on his weapon. “But no one came to help.”
“That’s because this isn’t the helping kind of place.” He headed straight for the darkest part of the lot—and, sure enough, a motorcycle waited there. He put the key in the bike and had it growling to life. “When folks hear noises like that here, they hunker down. Helping is the last thing on their minds.” He straddled the bike and offered her his hand.
“We are going to freeze our asses off on that thing,” Zoe warned him.
He smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep us on the roads too long. Priority one is getting you away from the scene. Priority two is making sure I use a ride that can’t be traced tonight.”
She climbed on behind him. He gave her the helmet to wear.
“Hold tight,” Victor told her.
She locked her arms around him. “Where are we heading?”
“I made a deal with you, didn’t I? You want to find your friend Michelle, and since we both know she was last seen in Vegas…Sin City, here we come.”
“But that’s like…twenty hours away.” They were not riding the motorcycle that whole way, were they? They’d be frozen long before they made it.
“Don’t worry. I have a friend who I can call to help us out.”
And the motorcycle zoomed out of that parking lot. A dead man’s bike. She held Victor even tighter as the motorcycle’s engine vibrated, shaking her whole body. The wind whipped against her, chilling her, but because she was so close to Victor, his warmth seeped into her. He took the brunt of the cold.
He was protecting her, again.
Victor Monroe.
The special agent she was starting to trust…
And a man she desperately needed.
***
Russell gave a low whistle when he walked into the motel room and saw the body on the floor. “Guess he learned that Vic doesn’t play around.”
Lauren knelt near the body and put her hands on the man’s throat. Russell thought it was pretty obvious that the guy was dead, but, hey if the new girl wanted to check…
She looked up at him.
He raised his brows. “Better get some gloves on,” he advised. “You don’t want to contaminate the scene.” His gaze slid around the room. The glass in the window was broken. Some of the glass had rained down on the bed. A very rumpled bed.
Vic, I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.
When he looked back at Lauren, her gaze was on the bed, too. And she was blushing.
New girl. He almost smiled.
“It’s a good thing Agent Monroe was awake when the attack occurred,” Lauren said, clearing her throat. “Otherwise…”
“Otherwise Zoe Peters would be dead.” Victor had always been a lucky bastard. “And he might be dead right along with her.”
Instead…a mystery man lay on the floor. A guy who should’ve been able to get the drop in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t. Because the hitman had made the mistake of going up against Victor.
“They’re…involved, aren’t they?” Lauren asked carefully.
Russell sighed. “Look, Lauren, just because you share a room with an asset…that doesn’t mean you’re fucking her.”
She flinched. She really was going to have to leave that prudishness at the door if she wanted to make it as an agent.
“Is he…though? Fucking her?”
Russell wasn’t about to touch that one. “Victor Monroe has a job to do. He’ll do that job.”
“Protecting Zoe…” She nodded.
That wasn’t exactly the job. But Lauren wasn’t on a higher clearance level, so Russell didn’t answer her. He just paced closer
to the body. His eyes narrowed. That guy…he looked familiar to him.
I’ve seen that face before…
He’d been involved with the Luther Bates investigation on and off for years. And he knew this guy—you’re connected to Luther.
But…how?
Just where did this hit man fit into the mix?
***
Zoe and Victor took shelter at another small motel, one close to the airport. They stayed on the road for just over an hour, going far enough, fast enough, that Victor was sure no one was on their trail.
His fingers felt fucking numb by the time they walked into their little room—a room that was a damn sight nicer than the last place. He took off his coat, wincing a bit when his new wound protested the move.
“While you’re taking things off, ditch your shirt, too,” Zoe ordered.
He smiled at her. “Baby, I love that you’re in the mood after everything’s that happened—”
She growled at him and grabbed his hand. “Stop thinking you’re God’s gift and let me look at that wound, okay?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
“And I’m telling you…I’m looking at that wound.” She dragged him toward the little bathroom. He let her because, yeah, he probably needed to clean the graze. The last thing he wanted was some kind of infection setting in.
That ride on the bike had been colder than he anticipated. Was it December already? Hell. Time just kept pushing right past for him. The days were a blur of work. Missions that never ended. Deaths and murders and betrayals.
“You don’t have to play the ice man with me.” She was very slowly—and carefully—lifting up his shirt. The sleeve pulled on the wound, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t want Zoe to think she was hurting him. “You killed a man tonight. I know…I know that has to make you feel…” But she broke off, biting her lip.
“How does it make me feel?” How was it supposed to make him feel?