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СКАЧАТЬ the past six months trying to forget the one night when control had slipped away from her and she’d allowed spontaneity a night of freedom.

      Her heart clunked to her feet as Mick pulled open the door that led to the director’s office. “Afternoon, Cassie.” He said her name like it was something exceedingly pleasant on his lips.

      “Agent McCane,” she replied stiffly. She swept through the door, acutely aware of him following right behind her.

      Adrianne Warsaw, the secretary to the director, looked up and smiled. “Ah, good, you’re both here. He’s waiting for you.” She gestured toward the closed door that led to the inner sanctum.

      Once again it was Mick who opened the door to usher Cassie inside. She gritted her teeth, smelling his familiar cologne, a spice scent that whispered of something slightly wild and wonderful.

      “Agent Miller, Agent McCane.” Director Forbes gestured them into the two chairs in front of his massive mahogany desk. “Black Creek, Arkansas,” he said when both of them were seated.

      Cassie frowned, trying to keep her focus solely on the steel-gray-haired man in front of her instead of the sexy dark-haired man seated far too close to her. “Never heard of it,” she replied.

      “It’s west of Hot Springs, Arkansas, in the Ouachita Mountains. Five years ago it wasn’t even a dot on the map, now the mayor is working to have it renamed Honeymoon Haven, the honeymoon capital of this region.” Director Forbes leaned forward. “Over the last couple of years the town has exploded with cute little cabins and bed-and-breakfast places, restaurants and shops that cater to the newly wed. It’s become a fairly profitable tourist town, and the mayor wants to keep it that way.”

      “So, what’s the problem?” Mick asked. He leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as if he were sunning himself on the beach.

      “Two honeymooning couples murdered in the last month.” Forbes leaned back in his chair, his frown cutting a vertical slash in the center of his broad forehead. “We’ve been contacted by the local sheriff, Edward Lambert, along with Mayor John Jamison, requesting help with the situation.”

      A ripple of relief swept through Cassie. It was always easier to work a case when you had the blessings of the locals. Although she didn’t want to believe that she’d be working this case with Mick, there was nothing else for her to think with him sitting right next to her and hearing the same information that she was hearing.

      “They’ve managed to keep the murders quiet for the time being, but there’s no question that if word of this gets into the media their main source of income from the tourism trade will dry up. Naturally they’re both concerned about the murders as well and don’t want any more taking place, but because of the similarities of the crime scenes, they don’t believe the unsub is finished there.”

      “Couples murdered…does that mean we’re looking at a team of killers?” Mick asked as he sat up straighter in his chair.

      “Sheriff Lambert is sure that both couples were murdered by the same person or persons. But at this point it’s unclear if we’re looking at one or more than one person committing the crimes.”

      Forbes patted two manila folders in the center of his desk. “I have all of the reports and crime-scene photos here, a copy for each of you. The sheriff faxed me over everything he had on the two cases.”

      Cassie tried not to think about the victims. Honeymooners, just beginning their lives together. If she allowed herself to think about them in that way then emotions would emerge, and she preferred to remain as objective as possible when working a case. She’d long ago mastered the art of compartmentalization, and it was that skill that made her an efficient and productive agent.

      “This killer or killers are particularly nasty pieces of work,” Forbes continued. “Each of the couples was killed between eight and midnight while in their cabins. In both cases the men were shot execution style in the back of their heads and the women were gagged and bound on the bed and stabbed to death.”

      “Sexual assault?” Mick asked, no hint now of his legendary charm in his deep voice.

      “Negative,” Forbes replied. “Neither woman was sexually assaulted. The coroner report indicates he believes that the men died first and the woman died minutes after, but he admits the timing is so close it could be the other way around.”

      She felt Mick’s gaze on her. Despite her effort to the contrary, Cassie’s heart cringed for the victims although she kept her features carefully schooled to show no emotion.

      It was obvious she would be working with Mick, and that in and of itself would be a hair-pulling study in frustration, but she would work with the devil himself if it meant stopping a killer.

      “Were they killed in the same establishment?” Mick asked.

      “No. The first couple was killed at a place called the Wedding Tree Motel. They were staying in unit seven, a secluded little cabin that caters to the needs of a honeymooning couple. They were killed on their fourth night. The second couple had rented a cabin for two weeks at the Bridal Bouquet Honeymoon Cabins. They were murdered on their seventh night there.”

      “Different time schedules and different locations. Probably a local.” Mick frowned thoughtfully as Cassie pulled a small notepad and pen from her pocket.

      Mick never took notes. It was one of the things that drove her crazy about him. Within hours of him getting any file of material it would be coffee-stained, probably have pizza sauce dripped on it and the pages would be tossed out of order. Mick McCane was chaos on two long, lean legs.

      As Director Forbes shared with them some of the other particulars of the crimes, Cassie took copious notes in the spiral notebook that was as much a part of her wardrobe as her sensible cotton underwear.

      On the last case they’d worked together Cassie had asked Mick why he didn’t take notes and he’d tapped his temple and stated that all the pertinent information that was needed was carefully stored in his brain. The aggravating part was that he was right. He seemed to have the memory of a computer.

      “When do we leave?” Cassie asked, always eager to get away from the quiet, neat apartment where she lived and into the action of a hunt for a killer.

      “Tomorrow morning,” Daniel Forbes replied. “It’s been two weeks since the killer struck, so Sheriff Lambert feels another murder is imminent.”

      “I’ll bet we can find us some amazing moonshine in that part of the country,” Mick said. “How does a little firewater sound, Cassie?” Forbes shot him a look of indulgent patience while Cassie gave him a cold, caustic stare.

      It hadn’t been moonshine that had caused her to completely lose her mind and self-control six months ago. It had been a bottle of Dom Perignon that had made her crazy for Mick, and she’d never forgive herself for that lapse in judgment.

      Because she’d liked it.

      She’d liked the wild abandon she’d found in his arms, but he was the last man on earth she’d ever want to be with in any kind of a real relationship. She had a feeling that within a month of spending time with him she’d want to take out her service revolver and shoot him or shoot herself.

      “So, I’m assuming the plan is to meet with Sheriff Lambert the minute we hit town,” Mick said.

      “Actually, СКАЧАТЬ