Rapid Fire

Darker things.

A murmur had run through the room, quick snatches of whispered rumor. He was out in the field…undercover with Mason Falk’s mountain men…captured…tortured…the drugs made him a little nuts…he’s teaching psych while he heals…

Uncomfortable with the sudden buzz, with the intimacy of knowing things about a complete stranger, Maya had gathered her things to leave, but when she passed the growing group, she’d glanced over at the man and found him watching her, found him nearer than she’d expected.

She had paused a moment, struck by the strangeness of his eyes, by the pull of him, by the click of recognition. No, she had never met him before, but she’d immediately recognized something about him. Something inside him, something deeper than the faint tang of alcohol that laced the air between them, though that, too, was a connection.

With the bruises of her marriage still fresh on her soul, Maya had pushed past the man, and had hidden in the back of his criminal psych class. He’d taught with an uncomfortable sort of detachment, as though he didn’t want to be there, couldn’t be anywhere else. More whispers had buzzed about him, rumors that he’d once identified a murderer by touching the victim’s hand, that he had visions.

That he drank to keep the visions away.

Maya had stayed away from him, wary of the reputation and the alcohol, but every now and then, when they had come face to face in the halls, or on the jog paths, or in the cafeteria, he would look at her, and those strange, knowing eyes would linger in her mind for days.

That had been the only contact between them, the only connection until that one stupid, stupid night, when Maya had given in to the temptation.

As much as she’d told herself, then and now, that it was her fault more than his, that mistakes happened, that sometimes even the strongest person stumbled off the path, she’d lost something that night, something more than the six charms she’d plucked off her necklace the next morning, and flushed down the toilet.

She’d lost a piece of herself.

She felt the same strength drain from her as quickly as the blood drained from her face when she saw those eyes, when his features realigned themselves into those of the man she had known. His beard was gone and his hair cut short, and he was leaner now, fitter.

But he was still Thorne.

She thought she caught a whiff of alcohol on the air between them, though that could have been a scent memory, kicked up by the shock of seeing him again, the shock of the bison stampede that had nearly killed her.

His face creased into a wry smile. “We don’t need to pretend this is a happy reunion. We don’t need to rehash why you took off before I even woke up that morning, and why you transferred all the way out of the academy to avoid me afterward. Frankly, I don’t think I care anymore. Just suffice it to say I owed you a good deed. Now we’re even. Okay?”

He rose gracefully to his feet and extended a hand to her, though she wasn’t sure whether he intended the gesture as a peace offering or a challenge.

Hell, she wasn’t even sure which was appropriate.

What would he do if she admitted she didn’t remember anything about that night? That everything after finding the dead battery on her car was a blur, culminating in her waking up the next morning in his bed, with his arm thrown across her waist and his breath in her ear?

“Fine.” She stood on her own, strangely reluctant to touch him when her fingers still buzzed with the feel of his body as she’d helped pull him to safety. “We’re even.”

But her stomach twisted at the look in his eyes, which implied an uncomfortable intimacy. For years she’d tried to block the memory of her single ignominious one-night stand, tried to tell herself that nothing had happened, that he’d been gentleman enough not to take advantage. His expression now told her she’d been lying to herself about him, about them.

They’d gotten drunk, they’d had sex, and then she’d run away.

Emotions she’d fought off five years earlier rose up to swamp her, to slap at her with feelings of failure, of humiliation, of disappointment—not with him, but with herself.

She drew breath to say something breezy, something that belied the turmoil within, but before she could speak, a small voice said, “I want my mommy.”

Startled back to the moment, to the case, Maya looked over at Hannah, who sat nearby with tears drying on her face.

Thorne crouched down near the girl. “And who is this?”

“She’s Hannah,” Maya answered. She bent down, picked up the girl—thankful that she was small for her age—and balanced the child on her hip, needing the contact perhaps more than Hannah did. “And she’ll need to spend some time with Alissa.”

Thorne’s strange eyes sharpened. “Why?”

Maya took a breath and tried to figure out how to summarize the situation without upsetting the traumatized girl further. “Let’s just say she wasn’t in the petting zoo by accident. She had help getting there, and my guess is that she was intended to draw more cops into the park before the stampede.” She paused and fussed with Hannah’s shirt so she wouldn’t have to look at Thorne. “I assume you’re on loan for the Master—” She broke off as the obvious conclusion clicked in her brain.

Oh, hell.

She spun and glared at him, as anger, frustration and a strange sort of betrayal flooded her system. “Tell me you’re not my replacement.”

BUT HE DIDN’T TELL HER that. He couldn’t. Instead, Thorne looked away, down to where a half dozen mounted ranch hands were driving the exhausted bison into a far pasture, while cops crawled over a section of downed fence, no doubt looking for clues that the stampede had been rigged.

When he spoke, his voice was low. “It’s only a temporary thing.”

She narrowed her eyes, making him wonder what she saw in him, what she was thinking. But she merely said, “Seriously? You’re just here to fill in until Internal Affairs clears me to get my badge back?”

“I’m here to help bring down the bastard who set you up today,” Thorne said. He hadn’t answered her question, but the chief had urged him to keep quiet about the possibility of taking over the psych specialist’s role in the Bear Claw Forensics Department. The evasion burned, letting him know that even though he’d saved her life, he still owed her.

Because the irony was that she’d saved his life five years earlier, and she didn’t even know it.

He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Look, Maya. I—”

“You two okay up there?” a voice shouted from below. The top rungs of an aluminum extension ladder banged against the lip of the roof, and shook with ascending footsteps.

“We’re fine,” Thorne yelled back, louder than he’d meant to. He glanced at Maya. “Let’s talk about it later.”

Her eyes grew wary, her expression shuttered. “There’s no need.”

Maya’s friends were the first two up the ladder. Alissa and Cassie shot Thorne nearly identical looks of distrust, then rushed to assure themselves that Maya was fine. Homicide detective Tucker McDermott was next to gain the roof. After speaking with Maya for a moment, he took Hannah and carried her down the ladder.

Moments later, the sounds of a tearful mother-daughter reunion rose up from below.

“The chief wants to see you back at the PD,” Cassie told Maya. She had her back to Thorne, but her words carried.

Aware that their conversation remained unfinished, that their reunion had none of the joyful ring of Hannah’s return to her mother, Thorne stepped forward. “I’ll drive her. We have things to discuss.”

Maya didn’t make eye contact when she said, “I’ve got my own wheels. I’ll drive myself.”

Realizing that he was the one without the wheels, Thorne grimaced. “Then I’ll ride with you. I came in with the chief.”

“Then you can leave with him, too,” Cassie said. She stepped forward, leading with her chin as though daring him to throw a punch. “Isn’t it enough that you’re using her desk and you’ve got all her notes on the Mastermind case?”

Maya surprised him by stepping forward and laying a hand on her friend’s arm. “I’ve got it.” She gestured toward the ladder. “You two head down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

When Thorne and Maya were alone again on the roof, she turned to face him, arms folded across her chest. As though remembering his old lectures on open versus closed body language, she uncrossed her arms and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans, where a narrow green belt glittered with a faint gold pattern. “Look,” she began, “I don’t know how much Chief Parry told you about what’s going on, but I’ll be back on the job as soon as IA clears me.”

“Of course,” Thorne agreed, though he noticed that she was still avoiding eye contact, and her fingers worked restlessly at her sides. She wasn’t as confident as she seemed. He felt a slash of empathy as he remembered his own down time following his escape from Mason Falk’s compound. He’d been on medical leave for nearly six months, and sent to teach at the Academy in High Top Bluff for a year after that.

He’d worked his way back into active duty. Maya would do the same, if she wanted it enough. But based on what the chief had told him, it didn’t seem likely that she would return to the Bear Claw PD. If that was a given, was there really any harm in him angling for her job?

Thorne wasn’t sure yet. He hadn’t fully processed the fact that this was Maya Cooper. Pretty, shy Maya Cooper from the back row of his psych class, who never raised her hand, but who aced all the quizzes and papers.

Pretty Maya Cooper who had cried in his arms over the whiskey he’d urged on her, making him step back and realize what he was becoming.

What he had already become.

He might not have changed his life because of her, but he’d damn well changed it because of what she’d shown him about himself. That meant he owed her, but how much?

“Let me ride with you,” he urged, not completely sure why he wanted to spend time with her. “Even if it’s only temporary, I’m here to work the Mastermind case. I’d appreciate your insights.”

She looked at him for a long moment, as though judging his motives, or maybe his sincerity. Apparently she found one or both lacking, because she shook her head. “Read my notes. They’re organized and complete, such as they are. You want a hint? Have Hannah describe the guy who grabbed her, and let Alissa develop a sketch.” She shrugged. “Beyond that, you’re on your own.”

“Come on, Maya.” He took a step closer to her, then paused at the unfamiliar rev that sped through his body. Acknowledging the danger signal, he cleared his throat and said, “Help me out, here. We’re on the same team.”

“Funny that you should mention teams,” she said, expression closed. “I seem to remember that you were a player and a partier. Unfortunately for you, I’m not either of those things anymore.” A measure of tension left her shoulders, as though she’d needed to say that aloud. “Look,” she said in a less brittle tone, “if I thought I knew anything that isn’t in my notes, I’d tell you. But it’s all there, everything right up until I was suspended.”

“And what about since then?” he asked quietly. “I’ll bet you’ve done some snooping on your own.”

“Why do you care?” she snapped. “You don’t need me on this case. There’s no reason for us to spend time together.” She pursed her lips, which were fuller than he remembered. “You’re not thinking that you and I are going to take up where we left off, are you?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “God, no!” He held up a hand. “No offense or anything, but I just got out of a relationship,” such as it was, “and it didn’t end well. She was a coworker, and—” And he was talking too much. Maya didn’t need to know the sordid details of Detective Tabitha Stock and her personal agenda. He frowned and ended with, “Let’s just say we can put the past in the past and keep it there. I’m not looking for anything more than your take on the Mastermind case.”

“Then read my notes.” She turned away and slipped over the side of the building, down the ladder and was gone, leaving Thorne alone on the roof.

But her presence lingered in the air, in the hum of blood through his body, the buzz that said she was prettier than he remembered, spunkier than he remembered. But beneath that buzz was a wariness, a recognition that she’d grown into a dedicated, driven cop, the kind of cop who’d do anything to protect her territory, to ensure her job and move her career forward. Just like Tabitha.

Maya wasn’t his problem. She didn’t want his help or company, and he’d made things square by pulling her away from the stampeding bison. He could move on from here, without giving her another thought.

Moments later, he cursed, climbed down the ladder and set off after her. The bomb threat and the Mastermind’s previous pattern of going after women in the Forensics Department suggested she was a target, which made her his problem.

What better way to find the Mastermind than to stick close to his next victim?

THE MASTERMIND WATCHED THE cops disperse to their vehicles and hid a smirk at the thought that everything was going according to plan. They were stirred up now, anxious and ready to jump at the smallest shadow.

He would wait a day, maybe longer, until the anticipation had built to a fever pitch. Then he would make his next move.

He picked out the slight figure of a dark-haired woman, identifying her by the aggressive wiggle of her hips as she walked to her car. The taller, stronger figure of a man followed at a distance.

“Right on schedule,” he murmured. He was particularly proud of this facet of his plan.

Though the ability to manipulate people wasn’t one he’d intentionally cultivated, it had served him well. With a few minor—and fixable—hiccups, everything was moving smoothly. The Bear Claw cops were formidable adversaries, but that would only make his inevitable victory that much sweeter when it came.

Smiling now, he turned away and headed toward his vehicle. He had a few matters to attend to, new preparations for the next stage of events.

Then he had a phone call to make.

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