Deadly Past. Kris Rafferty

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      “You deleted it.” His tone suggested he still had trouble processing her confession.

      “Accidentally. But I took a copy first.”

      “But they have video of you leaving the safe house. Yes?” His gaze locked with hers, and suddenly she didn’t want to pace anymore. She wanted to sit down.

      “No.” She cringed at his shocked reaction. “I’d turned it off, thinking to activate a fail-safe—”

      “No.” He stood up, and his hands reached for her as if he wanted to shake her, but when she stepped back, he sat down so quickly the chair squeaked and she thought it would break.

      “I was afraid what would happen if I touched the machine again, so I kept it off, leaving it for the experts. I thought it was for the best.”

      His jaw muscles twitched. “If those experts recover the video, they’ll see what was deleted. Copied. They’ll wonder why it happened, why that timeframe. They’ll wonder who did it, blocks away from a mass execution of WITSEC witnesses.”

      Her heart sank. “I’ll explain.”

      “It reeks of intent, Cynthia.”

      “I know.”

      “You fucked up,” he growled.

      “I know!” Did he have to keep rubbing it in? Leaning a hip against the exam table, she avoided Charlie’s gaze.

      “What did you have for supper last night?” he said.

      “Hmm?” Now that he’d mentioned it, she was hungry. “Falafel truck parked outside the precinct house.”

      “We’ll take a statement from the falafel guy. Get it on the record when you left work.” He nodded once, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “You remember leaving work. That’s good.”

      “Yeah.” She did. “And though I can’t remember going to the gym, the workout clothes in my bag were still sweaty, and gym member cards are used, so there’ll be proof.” She struggled to remember. “After the falafel, though, the next thing I remember is waking up at the safe house.”

      He studied her features. “But you said you remembered images.”

      “Just flashes of memory. The vics lined up against a brick wall. Alive.”

      “That’s a lot. We can work with that.” He pinned her with a stare. “I presume you’d remember planning a mass execution, gathering the vics up, binding them, transporting them to the scene.”

      She nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t do that.” She had a bruise on her hip from last night, and leaning on the table irritated it. She shifted her stance, attempting to get comfortable.

      “So, no premeditation,” he said. “Do you remember coming to my house? Dumping those items in my trunk?” She shook her head. “Nine o’clock, so you couldn’t have anyway. Your gym member card will give you an alibi for that, at least.”

      Her shoe slipped, and she had to catch herself. She was feeling shaky. “So, me at the scene was wrong place at the wrong time?”

      His brow furrowed briefly, as a rebuke, as if she’d slipped on the floor just to piss him off. “Your phone was in your car when you found it, and you called me at ten. It must have died then, and you heard shots fired. Then you ran to the crime scene.”

      “No. I remember them alive. I remember screams.” She shook her head, glancing at the exam table and wondering how undignified she’d look if she crawled back on it. “I don’t remember anything, really. I remember the falafel. The rest is a blank.”

      “You don’t have to remember. We can deduce.” He shifted on his chair, looking uncomfortable. It made her play with the idea of asking him to change places with her. “You drove and parked the Lexus across the street from the safe house. We know that. You had to have walked to the gym, got back to your car at ten, called me, phone dies”—he shrugged—“you hear screams and run three blocks to the crime scene. You see vics alive, blackout, and you have video of you walking to the safe house, gun drawn, injured. That about right?”

      “Sure. Whatever.” She still didn’t remember anything after eating a falafel, which had been amazing, and thoughts of food were making her stomach rumble.

      “That’s what we tell Benton.” He stood and stepped in front of her, towering over her. “First, we’ll go to the crime scene and check it out. Tell Benton after we see the evidence to make sure it supports our story.”

      “And if it doesn’t?” she said. He stepped closer, forcing her to lean against the exam table or risk touching him.

      “Don’t borrow trouble.” He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his eyes focusing on her lips. “We’ll tell Benton after I give the all-clear. You understand?”

      Cynthia had to tilt her head back to catch his gaze, because he’d trapped her between him and the table. “Benton has…has my…back,” she stuttered. “My team—”

      “Will have conflicting loyalties. I won’t.”

      Charlie lifted her by the waist, sitting her ass back on the padded exam table. It was a relief, because now she didn’t have to crane her neck to meet his gaze, but her thighs had automatically spread to accommodate his body. Now, with him so close, his hands touching her, all sorts of naughty thoughts popped into her head. Instead of pivoting back to his tiny chair, Charlie’s fingers dug into her waist and his eyes narrowed. He seemed to see something in her expression that pissed him off. Then his gaze dropped to her lips and her confusion cleared. She knew exactly what he was seeing. What she’d not thought to hide.

      Her desire. She wanted him, was fighting it, and… He knew.

      What he couldn’t know was his nearness was dredging up every arousing dream she’d suffered through since their kiss months ago. In those dreams, she didn’t have to wonder what would have happened if Charlie hadn’t rejected her kiss. Her dreams were full of wonderful, happily-ever-afters, but inevitably she’d wake frustrated, because they were only dreams, and she knew Charlie’s rejection had been for the best. Those months ago, he’d broken the kiss off, but she should never have kissed him in the first place. And as much as Cynthia hated to admit it, that’s why Cynthia was truly embarrassed.

      Now Charlie stood so close she could feel the heat of his body, and that made it impossible to hide her flushed cheeks, her rapid breathing and hungry eyes. Though Charlie’s demeanor shouted rejection, he didn’t step away, didn’t attempt in any way to dissipate the trigger prompting her arousal. His nearness.

      He was too close, her mind shouted. Too male. Too fucking attractive to pretend she didn’t want him. Why was he doing this to her? Fearing he was moments away from forcing her to admit her attraction, she panicked. She tilted her chin up, putting her lips mere inches from his, thinking he’d panic, too, and step back.

      “We kissing now?” she said, her tone dripping with belligerence. The only reaction she received was a miniscule tightening of the skin around his eyes. And…a flicker of hurt?

      “Do you want me to kiss you?” It sounded like a threat, and for the first time СКАЧАТЬ