Federal Agent Under Fire. Julie Anne Lindsey

scrutinized the room, moving slowly from closet to night stand and dresser before creeping softly toward the bed. “Just this,” she whispered, as if she might wake the sleeping veil. “Why would he do this?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe he hoped to meet you back here.” He regretted the words immediately and hated Nash all the more for the truth behind them.

      Her eyes widened in horror. “Meet me back here for what?”

      Blake’s tongue seemed to swell as a line of horrific ideas presented themselves. Too many years on the job and in the military had irrevocably polluted his thoughts. Now, he saw danger everywhere.

      Marissa backed away from the bed and freed a duffel bag from her closet. “He came here after I got away.”

      “Yes.” Blake swallowed a brick of regret. If only he’d shot Nash when he’d had the chance.

      “We were looking for him at the park, and he was here.”

      The words, I’m sorry, filled Blake’s heart and mind, trapped behind a much stronger will to stay focused and do the job this time. Apologies could come when Marissa was safe and Nash was behind bars or dead. Preferably the latter for what he’d put her through.

      Marissa filled the bag with clothes, opening and closing drawers, shoving handfuls of random items into the canvas duffel without looking.

      Scents of powder and vanilla surrounded them, distracting Blake in dangerous and unprofessional ways. “We can wait outside in my truck.” He scooped a pair of white lace panties up as they hit the floor beneath her gaping bag. He passed the soft scrap of material to Marissa, doing his best not to picture her in only those. “You don’t have to stay in here with this.” He tipped his head toward her bed.

      She stuffed the panties into her bag and opened another drawer. “Thanks.” Her cheeks reddened as their gazes locked.

      “I’m going to check the perimeter.”

      “No.” Alarm changed her features. “Don’t.”

      “It’s okay.” Blake infused the words with as much promise as possible. “You’re safe with me, and I’ll make sure to keep you that way.”

      She dipped her chin and went back to stuffing things blindly into her bag.

      Blake circled the home’s exterior and returned to Marissa several minutes later. A fresh text had arrived. “The team secured a room for us at the Blue Ridge Lodge outside of town. We know now that you were targeted. That makes you safer with us until we find Nash, and we will find him.”

      She gnawed her bottom lip. “One room?”

      “It’ll be crowded but secure. My team and brothers will come and go as the investigation moves along. And don’t worry, contrary to local legend, the Garrett men were raised to be gentlemen.”

      She pinned him with a fiercely ornery smile. “I was raised to be a princess. Look how that turned out. I’m about to spend the night with a man I just met.”

      He shot the ceiling another look and rearranged his ball cap. If the job didn’t kill him, protecting Marissa Lane might.

      * * *

      MARISSA COULDN’T DROP the creepy sensation of being watched. Knowing a psychopath had been in her room had shaken her far worse than the attempted abduction. At least during the attack, she was aware of his presence, but he’d been inside her home. He’d been in her room. The contents of her overnight bag grew heavy on her lap. Had he looked inside her drawers? Touched her things? How long had he been planning to take her? How did he find her home? Endless questions ran rampant through her mind as she bounced on the passenger side of Blake’s truck, feeling thoroughly violated.

      Blake pulled into the parking spot beside a black town car at Blue Ridge Lodge and climbed out. He shook hands with a man in a gray suit standing outside the door to room one-eleven. They looked at Marissa through the windshield, mouths moving, eyes appraising.

      She redirected her attention to the scenery. Blue Ridge Lodge was gorgeous and nestled in the mountains where she’d practiced rock climbing and spelunking throughout high school. She’d long ago mastered the climbs and adventures the area had to offer, but back in the day, those hills were a great source of victory and self-confidence. If only she’d taken more photos of the excursions.

      Blake lumbered toward the passenger door and pulled it open. “How are you holding up?”

      She ducked her chin. “Okay.”

      Sympathy swam in his eyes. He moved away from the open door so she could climb down. “There’s nothing we can do until the last of the divers arrive except keep you out of sight. The sheriff’s department’s on the lookout for Nash. My men are canvassing local hotels and campgrounds along with abandoned buildings and cabins. If Nash is still in Cade County, we’ll find him.”

      Blake stole the duffel from her hand and hooked it over one broad shoulder. “Let’s go inside. Neither of us have eaten since breakfast and that was one hell of a walk you took me on. Let me order dinner. We’ll eat, and hopefully you can get a little rest while we’re waiting on a new lead.”

      Marissa sank her teeth into the thick of her bottom lip and immediately released it. She was too late. Blake’s gaze slid from her mouth to her eyes. He’d noticed her tell. He knew she was nervous. She could lie all day with her tongue, but she had no control over her face. “Okay. Dinner sounds good.” As did a hot shower and fresh clothes. “Thank you.”

      She followed him inside the roomy junior suite. A small sitting area with a round table, chairs, couch and television were separated from the bedroom and en suite bath by a set of French doors. Marissa dragged her gaze away from the queen-size bed with notable effort. She told herself it was the fatigue in her bones that wanted her to head that way first, not the small tug in her belly that wondered if Blake preferred to be the big spoon or the little spoon.

      He edged past her with the duffel and set it on the bed. “Burgers okay?”

      She nodded too quickly, a sure sign of guilt. “Yeah. Good. Thank you. I’m going to shower.” She snatched up the bag and hustled into the bathroom.

      Safe behind the closed door, Marissa shed her dirty clothes and climbed into the steamy shower. Hot beads of water pounded against her tired, aching muscles, and she rubbed her eyes as the water ran over her face. The sensation did little to cleanse her mind of numerous inappropriate thoughts about Blake Garrett, the man who set her skin on fire with every smoldering look. She squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto her palm and worked her hair into a lather. Marissa was never plagued by so many inconceivable fantasies. The problem was obviously this awful day. Her emotions were too heightened to share a hotel room with that man. The excess adrenaline and fatigue were producing crazy thoughts. And why was there only one bed?

      She rinsed the soap from her hair and body, clearing her skin and mind. There was no chemistry between she and Blake. She’d imagined his heated looks as a means of distraction, a psychological defense mechanism to deal with what had happened that morning. Clearly her subconscious assumed that if the hot FBI agent wanted her, then he’d protect her and she could feel safe.

      She stepped onto the bath mat and wrapped a soft terry-cloth towel around her torso. Even if the looks Blake gave her were real, they didn’t mean anything other than he was in possession of a libido. It was practically what the Garretts were known for. And so what? She rubbed her arms and legs vigorously with a second towel. Blake might want her. Short-term, of course. His family was single-minded and the whole town knew it. Married to the endless pursuit of justice. Addicted to the chase. Which was likely the reason Blake hadn’t settled down. He probably wondered where the fun was in pairing up for life. Marissa expected that was where the fun really began, but what did she know?

      She wound her hair into the second towel and rubbed a clear spot on the steamed-up mirror. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of her bruised face and throat. Her heart pounded with fresh panic, as if Nash were still with her, pawing at her and looking at her and plotting