The District. Carol Ericson

Still didn’t detract one bit from her all-around gorgeousness.

      He had the advantage knowing about this meeting beforehand, and if there’s one thing he’d learned about his ex-fiancée it was that if you had an advantage over her—exploit it.

      She reined herself in and the tight lips curved into a tighter smile. “You’re back.”

      “In the flesh.” He spread his arms, spanning the doorway.

      Two spots of color flagged her cheeks and then disappeared almost immediately. She recovered quickly—always had, always would.

      “I heard you were traipsing around Latin America after your...leave of absence.” Her fingers drummed the papers on the desk.

      He kicked the door shut behind him and she jumped. Not so composed after all.

      “I’ve been back in the States about a month. Went straight from drugs to serial killers.”

      “Are you okay with the move?” Her dark, liquid eyes softened as they scanned his face, and her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

      The edges of his cold resolve melted just a little. Then he straightened his spine. He’d seen that look before—right before she stabbed him in the back.

      “Why not?” He lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug. “I’m particularly suited to the assignment, don’t you agree? Just like I was particularly suited to the kidnapping detail. Let’s just hope this one ends better.”

      She jumped from her chair, smacking her palms on the desk blotter. “You...”

      He held up his hands.

      She closed her eyes, adjusted the waistband of her slacks and plopped back in her chair. “You look good.”

      His gaze strayed from the perfect oval of her face to her long fingers twisting into knots. He could say the same for her. The masculine pantsuit did nothing to conceal her femininity, and from the way she towered over the desk he knew her feet were slipped into those high heels she loved to wear at the office to remind everyone in this male-dominated field that she was still a woman.

      Not that there could be any doubt about that. Ever.

      “You look good, too. Serial killers agree with you. Of course, they always did. You must be in heaven.”

      A spasm crumpled her face and she shoved the file folders toward him. “Oh, yeah. It’s heaven to see young women like Nora and Olivia cut down in the prime of life by some sick whack job.”

      Heaving out a long sigh, he rolled a leather-bound chair behind him and dropped into it. The war between them was over. He’d ended the engagement, and these battles were unnecessary. “I’m sorry, Christina. That was a low blow. The families of these women are lucky to have you on their cases.”

      Her lips parted and she nodded. Her mouth had lost the tightness and looked totally kissable—and God he could take her in his arms right now and do justice to those luscious lips.

      The lust that slammed him and had him shifting in the squeaky chair hadn’t revved him up like this in over two years—the last time he’d seen Christina Sandoval.

      Greavy was a sadistic SOB to put him on this case with Christina. Of course, Greavy had no idea the homicide in San Diego he’d assigned to Eric as soon as he joined the unit would be linked to Christina’s three cases in Portland and San Francisco. This guy got around.

      Clearing his throat, he folded his arms behind his head and tipped back in his chair, making it squeak even more. “Did Rich tell you why I was coming out?”

      “Rich didn’t tell me you were coming out at all.”

      “I mean, did he tell you why another agent was joining you?”

      “Typical Greavy. I haven’t spoken to him in person since he sent me to Portland. I had to find out another agent was coming to assist me from Lieutenant Fitch over there.” She spun the file folders around to face him. “And here you are.”

      He cocked his head. “Greavy didn’t tell you about the other case in San Diego?”

      “There was another murder in San Diego? Same M.O.?”

      “Yep.”

      A flare of anger turned her cheeks red. “I’m assuming the killer stuck the tarot card with the maiden and lion between the vic’s fingers. Three murders up here, three tarot cards.”

      “This is where it gets weird. The body had a tarot card between his fingers, all right, but it wasn’t that lion one.”

      Christina’s eyes widened. “Let me guess. It was a tarot card with a fool on it.”

      Eric leaned forward and the front wheels of his chair hit the floor where it skidded a few inches to the right. “How’d you know that?”

      “I canvased the area where we found the most recent victim, Nora Sterling. I thought I had a pretty good idea where the killer was hiding before he attacked her—up a tree. I climbed the tree and found the card.”

      “What made you climb the tree?” But he didn’t have to ask. Christina always claimed she could get into the head of a killer. He still didn’t know if he believed her or not, but it could come in handy in this case if she could.

      “Just...umm, a feeling and some damage to the bark on the trunk.”

      “Do you have the card here?” He shuffled through the papers in the case folders.

      “It’s in evidence.”

      “Prints?”

      “None.”

      Eric whistled through his teeth. “I wonder if there were any more tarot cards near the body in San Diego.”

      “I was wondering the same thing about the murder in Portland and the first one here.” She tapped a pencil against her chin and then dropped it. “Wait. Did you say the victim in San Diego was male?”

      “That’s right.”

      “Was the body found outdoors? Bludgeoned and then throat slit?”

      “Nope—indoors, no bludgeoning, but his throat was slit. He lost an amazing amount of blood that soaked into the carpet and the floorboards beneath.”

      “Same with the other victims. They suffered a lot of blood loss.” She curled her fingers around the arms of the chair. “So the M.O. was a little different for the male victim.”

      “We did find some drugs and alcohol in his system, so maybe the killer incapacitated him that way and didn’t have to hit him over the head.”

      “That suggests he knew him or had some kind of contact with him before the murder. That doesn’t seem to be the case at all with the women.”

      Christina sucked in her bottom lip, which she always did when she was thinking. She couldn’t just be trying to focus his attention on her mouth, could she? Because he couldn’t keep his eyes, or his nasty thoughts, off her lips.

      “What could possibly be the connection between these four people?”

      Clearing his throat, he scratched the stubble on his chin. “I guess it’s up to us to find the connections, because they have to be there.”

      “Us. There hasn’t been an us for a long time.”

      “I think we can be adults and work together.” As soon as he could get his mind out of the gutter.

      “Sure.” She folded her hands on the desk. “How’s your family?”

      “Fine. Yours? How’s your mother?”

      “She’s doing well, busy.”

      “Busy? I thought she retired from nursing.”

      Christina’s hands got fidgety again, stacking papers and lining up pencils.