Cold & Deadly (Cold Justice: Crossfire #1)(85)

Getting out of town was a priority. She doubted there was a bedroom to be had in a five-mile vicinity of this town.

They said goodbye to Jerry Pine and the other locals who’d been so much help before the case had blown up in their faces and headed down to the rental she’d parked out front four hours ago.

“Any updates?” she asked, slipping into the driver’s seat.

Dominic swore as he opened the door. “Dammit, I forgot I’m still not medically cleared to drive.”

Ava shrugged. “Let’s start driving and find a motel en route if I start to fall asleep.”

“You sure?”

Ava pulled a face. “All in a day’s work.”

Dominic climbed in and set the GPS so neither of them had to think. She was heading out of town when he finally spoke.

“Autopsy tests on Caroline Perry’s body found surfactants in her lungs.”

“Surfactants?”

“A constituent of bubble bath.”

“Ah. Not something I generally associate with the Rappahannock River. So, she drowns in the tub and is then dumped in the river. Why? Any evidence connecting Perry to Elgin?”

Dominic shook his head. “The burner cell that Alex Parker says was active around Fredericksburg was active around the church and towers nearest Galveston’s cabin. He’s digging into the corporation that owns the cabin and donated the land to the church. Task force is looking hard into Robin Elgin’s background and trying to tie him to Perry.”

Ava opened the window to try to keep herself awake, but when she started openly yawning, she knew they needed to find a place to sleep soon.

“Pull over,” Dominic told her.

“What?”

“Pull over. I’ve already been in one car wreck. Don’t want to be in another no matter what the doctors say. That’s an order, Kanas.”

Ava pulled over.

Dominic got out and walked around the car, opening her door for her to climb out. She swayed when she did so, hyperaware of the closeness of his body. The desire to touch him was almost overwhelming. Just a brief moment of human contact. But she wouldn’t be the one to cross the line, not while they were working.

He surprised her by grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop before she could walk away. Then he sank his hands into the back of her hair and brought her to him for a long, slow kiss. When it was over, he rested his forehead against hers, as her heart pounded madly.

“Glad you didn’t die today,” he said, swallowing hard.

She reached up and squeezed his wrists. “I’m glad you didn’t die today, either. Did I thank you for saving my life?”

“I’m the one who dragged you out there.”

“I thought we were in this together?”

“Yeah, but I’m the one he wanted dead.”

“Not on my watch,” she said seriously.

He laughed, and she felt the sound radiate through his fingers to her skull and down to the marrow of her bones.

“Thanks for having my back,” he said softly before releasing her and stepping away.

She climbed into the passenger side, did up her seatbelt, and closed her eyes. Emotions were spiraling out of control beneath the surface of her skin, and she didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want him to realize she was as weak and stupid as all the other women who fell at his feet.

She cleared her throat and tipped her chair back. “Pull over when you get tired, Sheridan. And don’t go breaking the law or else I’ll probably get suspended again, and you’ll end up getting a commendation.” The words emerged prickly and sharp, but they were all the armor she had left, and she needed every scrap of protection she could muster.





Chapter Twenty-Five





Grief hot-wired Bernie’s rage. Robin had been a dear friend, an early disciple of Peter’s. He hadn’t participated in the murders or the torture. He’d just liked to watch. Women liked him and sometimes, Peter had used Robin as a lure for some wholesome little chickadee who didn’t stick her thumb out for a ride.

The tire iron dragged through the dirt.

If only Bernie had been with Peter when that slut had been wiggling her ass up and down Route 97.

The pipe bomb had exploded, but the cop hadn’t been injured. Her husband had instead.

Maimed.

That’s what the news reports were saying. It had a delicious ring to it. Bernie smiled. See how the bitch dealt with getting her loved one fucking “maimed.”

The tire iron was heavy. Unyielding. The noise it made as it dragged over the ground made Bernie think of an ancient sword being drawn over rock.

Sandra Warren should be dead. Fernando Chavez should be dead. Dominic Sheridan had murdered Robin and found Peter’s grave and should be dead.

Things were not going to plan.

Bernie walked out of the forest and toward Sheridan’s house not stopping, instead increasing the pace and using the momentum to pick up the iron and swing it at Sheridan’s bedroom window. The glass shattered, the alarm went off. Bernie moved on to the next one.

Every smash satisfied something dark and resentful inside. Three windows, four. Glass shards rained down, but the ski mask and gloves protected face and hands.

Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. The alarm shrieked as the last window shattered.