Chapter Two

Rowan finally arrived at work almost three hours late. She tossed her briefcase onto the counter that ran along the back wall of her office, and turned to confront the current state of her desk. Her beautiful, antique mahogany desk that dated back to before the Civil War. A present from her parents when she’d passed the bar exam, and she loved it so much she’d moved it here so she could use it every day, instead of keeping it in her home office.

At the moment, every inch of it was piled high with folders and legal boxes for her to go through, and there were more stacked on the floor beside it. She had to be done with all of it by Friday night, and all of it had to wait until she was done interviewing the next batch of witnesses for the Ruiz case.

She rolled her head back and forth to ease the stiffness in her neck. A dull headache pounded in her temples and the base of her skull. The medics had deemed her well enough to skip the hospital and go to work, but warned her she would be sore for a few days. If she was this sore already, she dreaded what tomorrow morning would feel like.

At a sharp knock on her door, she looked up to find her boss, Val, standing there in a charcoal-gray business suit. He was in his early fifties, his thick, light brown hair graying around the temples. “Heard you just got in. You okay?” he asked, running a concerned eye over her.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you finished with the first set of interviews?”

“No, just took a quick break because Commander Taggart had to take an important call. You ready now, or do you need a few minutes?”

“I’m ready.” She grabbed her laptop, files, and purse and trailed after him down the hall to the conference room. Their first step was to gather evidence and interview witnesses pertaining to the case, including victims. The defendant’s counsel had also hinted that they might be open to considering a plea arrangement, so she and her boss were also working on a possible offer.

Supervisory Special Agent Taggart, commander of FAST Bravo, stood at the far end of the hallway speaking on his cell phone to someone. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment, then looked away as he continued his conversation.

In the waiting area outside the conference room, two more members of FAST Bravo waited, including the team leader. They nodded at her, smiled politely and she did the same, their presence making her heart speed up. If they were still here, then was Malcolm as well?

The moment Val opened the conference room door, Rowan got her answer, her eyes immediately connecting with Malcolm’s. He was seated on the far side of the long table, his big frame taking up the entire chair.

“Hi,” she said, taking her seat across from him and setting her things down, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered. This was the second business meeting she’d had with him over the past couple of weeks, and it felt every bit as strange and stilted as the first time. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not a problem,” he answered. “You get everything sorted out?”

“Yes.” Her boss didn’t know she and Malcolm had dated a year ago, and she didn’t want him to. Their past relationship didn’t affect this case whatsoever. At least here in her work environment she had other things to focus on besides the magnetic man across the table, and the undeniable pull he still exerted on her. Work had always helped her center herself, push all her personal problems into the background.

“Go ahead and pick up where you left off. I’ll catch up as we go.” Not wanting to take up any more of Malcolm’s time than necessary, she opened her file, then glanced at the papers in front of Val to orient herself.

“We were just going over Agent Freeman’s recollection of the night FAST Bravo rescued Victoria Gomez,” her boss said, pointing to a section on the page so she could read over it.

Rowan nodded and continued skimming the report. Miss Gomez was a former investigative reporter who had been kidnapped and brutalized by Carlos Ruiz’s men for several weeks. The woman had been subjected to horrific things that made Rowan’s skin crawl, and she had a huge amount of respect for Miss Gomez’s strength.

The cartel had intended to punish her for exposing Ruiz and his network in an article published in the New York Times. She’d been working on a book about her findings when Ruiz had targeted her. His men had slaughtered her family in front of her, abducted her, used her in horrific ways with the intention of selling her into sexual slavery in Asia when they’d had their fill.

Thankfully Malcolm and his teammates had gotten there first. Now Miss Gomez was the government’s star witness against Ruiz. Rowan and Val had already interviewed her several times. Miss Gomez had volunteered to enter the WITSEC program, for her own protection, and was currently at their orientation center somewhere here in D.C. After she testified and the trial was over, Miss Gomez would begin a new life under a new name somewhere else, and hopefully find a sense of peace and security.

“Okay,” Rowan said as she finished skimming the notes, delaying the moment when she had to look up at Malcolm again. “Please continue.” The more members who corroborated the details of her rescue, the stronger the testimony would be.

“Special Agent Freeman wasn’t in the forest when Miss Gomez was discovered,” Val told her. “Tell us your recollection of what happened after she was found,” he said to Malcolm.

“I was still at the house we’d raided, about seventy or so yards from where she was found in the woods. My team leader and a couple other guys got her into an ambulance and came back to the house. Hamilton rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital and I met him there after we had secured the prisoners and remaining female hostages, and finished processing the scene.”

“Describe the moment when you first met Miss Gomez.”

Malcolm’s steady dark gaze slid from Val to Rowan for a moment before he answered. “She was in the back of the ambulance, wrapped up in a blanket Hamilton had found for her.”

The team members had found her naked in the woods, with—

“She had a rusted old collar and chain hanging from around her neck.”

Because those animals had chained Miss Gomez to the fucking floor in a shed out back of the property so no one could hear her scream when they took turns with her.

Rowan’s stomach clenched at the mental image but Val nodded and scribbled down something on his pad of paper. “Did you speak to Miss Gomez at the hospital later?”

“Just briefly. Hamilton and I tried to question her about Ruiz to see if we could get a lead on him but it was way too soon. She was in bad shape. Deep in shock, in pain and still scared as hell. The only person she seemed to trust was Hamilton. She wouldn’t let go of his hand.”

Oh, that made Rowan’s heart hurt. That Miss Gomez would reach out to a near stranger for comfort and reassurance after suffering so horrifically at other men’s hands.

“So he stayed with her while the medical staff treated her injuries, but had to leave before FBI and agency officials questioned her. I went in to get him when they arrived,” Malcolm continued.

“Did Miss Gomez say anything of importance to you before you left?” Val asked.

Malcolm nodded. “As we were walking to the door. She said Carlos Ruiz was the man responsible. She’d been investigating him and he’d gone after her to make a statement that he was untouchable. His men killed her entire family while they were having dinner at her parents’ place one night, then took her. She said he came to look at her a few days before we raided the property. And I remember her last words to us exactly. She said, ‘He should have killed me that night with my family. Because now I’m going to bury him’.”

Rowan stared at him, a shiver skittering up her spine. To have that sort of resolve and inner strength in the face of everything she’d gone through… Victoria Gomez was her new hero.

Even Val appeared affected by Malcolm’s words, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. “She said that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, good for her.” Val exchanged a glance with her. Miss Gomez hadn’t told them this. Maybe she didn’t think it was important, or maybe she didn’t remember that chunk of time in the hospital. That was understandable. She’d been medicated, so it was possible.

But it was more powerful testimony they could present to the judge, whether in a trial, or in a victim impact statement should Ruiz want and accept a plea bargain. Rowan and her office had to be prepared for either scenario.

They would check Malcolm’s story against Agent Hamilton’s when they interviewed him in a little while. Every eyewitness piece of information they collected on Ruiz was another nail they could use in the courtroom to pound into the lid of his richly deserved coffin.

They all turned when someone knocked on the conference room door. Rowan put a hand to the back of her neck, hid a wince as the tender muscles protested.

Commander Taggart poked his head in. He nodded at Freeman, then settled his gaze on Val. “Sorry to interrupt. Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.” Val stood. “Back shortly,” he said to them, and left.

As soon as the door shut behind him, an awkward tension took hold of the room. Rowan steeled herself and turned back to face Malcolm, meeting that dark chocolate gaze across the table. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel like he could see right through her. It made her squirm inside.

He folded his arms casually, emphasizing the thickness and power in his biceps as the sleeves of his dress shirt pulled taut across the muscles there. He looked amazing in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but in a suit, he was irresistible. It made her imagine him tossing the tailored jacket aside, those long, strong fingers undoing each button on his shirt one by one as that dark, intense gaze locked on her.

She swallowed, trying and failing to shove the image aside. He’d been wearing a suit the night she’d met him, too, at the veteran’s charity event here in D.C. last summer. She’d noticed him from across the room as soon as she’d walked in, and when her brother had introduced them soon after, the mutual attraction was undeniable.

Looking at him right now, recalling the way he’d touched her, kissed her, it was hard to remember all the carefully thought through reasons why she’d decided to end things with him. She’d enjoyed his company, and she’d had fun with him too. Dates where they’d gone to see the latest action movie, late night dinners that had cost her sleep but had been so worth it, and of course braving the coasters he loved so much.

She’d thought breaking it off early would be easier for them both, had been as gentle about it as possible, but she’d still hurt him. She was sorry for that.

She searched her mind, trying to think of something to say that would dispel the unspoken tension simmering between them. “So—”

“You gonna cut a deal with Ruiz?”

The abrupt change in topic took her aback for a second. She couldn’t read his expression, or his tone. “Maybe. There are a lot of variables to consider.”

He studied her a long moment. “A guy like him, he’ll want a deal.” This time there was no mistaking the disdain in his voice. Whether it was aimed at her or Ruiz, or both, she wasn’t sure. It stung to think he might think badly of her and her job now.

“It depends on how strong a case we can build against him, and what he’s willing to give us in exchange.” Malcolm understood how this worked. And that she couldn’t divulge any details about it.

Sometimes her job meant doing things she didn’t like to protect the greater good, but she’d known that going in and had learned how to put aside her personal feelings. In this case, if Ruiz could give them something solid that would lead investigators to El Escorpion or even give them something to take down the other lieutenants in the cartel, Rowan would view it with the hard-nosed professionalism that was expected of her and cut a deal that would reduce Ruiz’s sentence. Even though she’d rather see him serve a long sentence before dying behind bars for what he’d done.

Malcolm shook his head slightly, his eyes burning with an almost merciless light. “You weren’t there that night. I was. I saw what he and his men did to women. Just… Whatever happens with this whole thing, promise me he won’t walk.”

An answering anger smoldered inside her, the need to see justice done. “No. He won’t walk.” She and everyone else working on this case would make damn sure of that.

THE FIRE IN her sapphire blue eyes when she said those words triggered something deep inside Malcolm. A tingling, bone-deep awareness he couldn’t ignore no matter how much he wanted to.

She wanted Ruiz to pay for what he’d done. It must turn her stomach to offer deals to pieces of shit like him. It would Mal’s.

He’d never seen her in work mode before that meeting a few weeks back. She was so different here in her professional element, even that tailored pencil skirt suit hugging her lean curves like a suit of armor, concealing the true woman from the rest of the world.

There was so much more to her than her profession.

In the short time they’d dated he’d gotten to know the other her, see some of the softer layers hidden beneath that professional exterior. Her dry sense of humor, how impassioned she became when she talked about something that excited her. She was smart and kind. The way she’d smiled whenever he reached for her hand or wrapped his arm around her.

The woman in front of him now was determined, driven and self-assured. A little cool and reserved. Sexy as hell in her own right. But the woman he’d gotten to know a year ago, the one who had laughed with him, clung to him and melted under his kisses…she was beautiful, inside and out. He missed her.

She’d kept the keychain. He’d noticed it as soon as he’d leaned over to get her insurance papers this morning. It was just a damn keychain, had cost him five bucks. Yet she’d kept it this whole time. Why? It wasn’t because she hadn’t noticed or was too lazy to throw it away. Rowan was as hard working as they came, and didn’t do anything by accident.

Sitting here across from her was a special kind of torture. She was sore from the accident, he could see it in her restricted movements, the way she kept rubbing at the back of her neck. His natural inclination was to help somehow. He would have run to help anyone involved in the accident this morning, but when he’d seen her car get rear-ended and then that asshole slam into her passenger side before taking off, all his protective instincts had roared to the surface, strong as ever.

He’d tried to tell himself he was over her, and had been for many months. Now he realized he had to call bullshit on that. She was the one who got away. He still cared. Still wanted her, even if she didn’t want him. And that wanting wasn’t going away anytime soon, no matter how much he wished it would.

Showing the first signs of discomfort under the weight of his stare, Rowan cleared her throat and pulled a bottle of pain relievers from her purse. He bit back the words of concern he wanted to say, along with the urge to go around the table to knead the sore muscles in her neck and shoulders. She wasn’t his, hadn’t been for a long time.

Hell, she’d never really been his in the first place.

All the old questions he’d tormented himself with in the weeks after she’d broken up with him came rushing back now as he watched her down the pills with a few sips from her bottle of water. Did she miss him? Think of him at all? Regret her decision even a little?

Right from the start he had known how special she was, that she was different from any other woman he’d ever dated. He’d been ready to dive headfirst into their relationship, give himself completely to her. Then bam. She’d pulled the plug, and to him it had seemed so damn easy for her to walk away.

He hadn’t seen it coming. Still couldn’t understand why she’d done it.

Rowan was the first woman he’d been with whom he could see himself having a future with, and the first one who had known what he did for a living. She understood what his job entailed, the effort and sacrifices it took to be a FAST member. Her rejection had stung not only his male ego, but hurt him more than he’d ever admit to anyone, triggering all the old insecurities he’d carried around as a kid.

He stared at her now, wishing he could see what was going on in her head. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?

Deep down he’d already feared he wasn’t when he’d asked her out. Her breaking up with him so suddenly had confirmed it, and worse, that she obviously didn’t think he was good enough for her either.

Mal kept his expression impassive as she set the water down and made an attempt at small talk. “How’s your brother?”

“He’s good. How are your grandparents?” she asked in her soft Georgia drawl. He’d always loved the sound of it.

Maybe small talk was a bad idea. He had no interest in talking about personal shit with her. Just like he no longer had the right to be involved in her life, she didn’t have the right to know about his. “They’re both fine.”

Her smile was a little strained. “That’s good.”

He nodded once. He’d grown up in a rough neighborhood in Detroit. After his mother had died of complications due to diabetes, her parents had taken him in. They’d been strict. Pops was a preacher who demanded integrity and high standards in everything from manners to school to how Mal treated people. He’d been tough but fair, and ultimately was responsible for Mal becoming the man he was today. And even though he’d overcome the odds and made a success of his life, Rowan dumping him brought it all back.

“Your whole team must be extra busy with all these meetings and interviews we’re adding to your load, huh?” she asked.

“It’s fine.” What the hell was taking Taggart and her boss so long? Christ, he just wanted the hell out of here. Being forced to see her, talk with her, especially alone, made it seem like there was a concrete slab sitting on his ribcage.

She opened her mouth to say something else, and relief swept through him when her boss walked back in. “Thanks for coming in, Agent Freeman. I think we’ve got what we need for now.” Val’s gaze shifted to Rowan. “You up for a meeting over at the prison?”

Rowan hid her surprise well, shoving the bottle of pills into her purse as though they were some sign of weakness. “Yes. Why?”

“Ruiz wants to see us. He wants to see what kind of deal we can offer him.”

“All right.” She was up and clearing her things off the table in a heartbeat, only a subtle stiffness in her movements giving away her physical discomfort. Then those gorgeous eyes met Mal’s, and his damn heart squeezed at the flicker of wistfulness there. As though the thought of not seeing him again made her sad. But why the hell would that be, when she’d been the one to walk away? “Bye. It was good to see you.”

For his sake, he hoped it would be the last time. “Yeah, you too.”

When the door shut behind her, Mal expelled a long breath. Their paths probably wouldn’t cross again anytime soon.

This ache in his chest was only temporary, so he wasn’t going to waste time torturing himself thinking about what might have been. He wasn’t going to wish things were different. Or wish that he could be there for her tonight. Drive her home. Make her dinner. Rub her neck and shoulders. Put her in a hot bath before tucking her into bed beside him. Take care of her.

He wasn’t going to wish she was his.

In fact, starting right now, he wasn’t going to think about her at all anymore.