Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Garrett watched Claire flee down the corridor, his heart still pounding, his lips still burning from the kiss.
What the hell had he just done?
He’d kissed her. Not just kissed—claimed her. Like she was his. Like he had any right to touch her when he was lying to her about everything that mattered.
I don’t even know your name.
Her words cut deeper than the killer’s knife. She’d trusted him with her body, her vulnerability, her rage. And he couldn’t even give her his real name. Couldn’t tell her he was Bobby. The boy hadn’t been there for her or her best friend fifteen years ago.
That call…if only he’d kept to his schedule with Lily like Claire had said. None of this would have ever happened.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
He ran his hands through his hair, tried to steady his breathing. This was exactly why he shouldn’t have gotten close to her. Why he should have stayed professional.
But then she’d kissed him. Fifteen years of guilt and loneliness and need had exploded between them like a bomb.
Yes, dammit, he knew that everything he’d said to her applied to him, too.
In many ways, it wasn’t his fault that Lily was dead—it was Brands who’d done it—but it didn’t stop the clawing pain and guilt he’d always felt.
One stupid phone call could have saved his sister.
Not only her, but all of the women the Countdown Killer had murdered, too.
He absentmindedly checked his tactical vest and his weapon. Focus on the mission. Be the commander of this team.
That’s who he was now. Not Bobby. Not the failure. He was Wolf, commander of Shadow Point Security. He didn’t let emotions compromise operations.
Vivi sidled up to him, her expression carefully neutral, but her eyes assessing.
“Don’t,” Garrett said.
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“You’re about to.”
Vivi crossed her arms. “You need to tell her.”
“No.”
“Garrett—”
“My call sign is Wolf. That’s all she needs to know.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Vivi shifted closer, lowering her voice. “It’s clear she has feelings for you, and you for her. She trusts you, and you’re lying to her about who you really are.”
“I’m protecting the mission.”
“You’re protecting yourself.” Vivi’s tone was unrelenting.
“And I understand why. But she deserves to know that you’re Bobby.
That you’re Lily’s brother. Especially if you’ve just crossed any unprofessional lines with her, which”—she glanced toward the ops room door closing behind Claire—“it looks like you have.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened. “Emotions are running high. I was only trying to help her, and…” He shook his head.
“If I reveal who I am now, everything changes. She’ll question why I didn’t tell her immediately.
She’ll wonder if I’ve been using her. If this whole thing is about my guilt over Lily instead of keeping her safe. ”
“Isn’t it both?”
Bam, bam, bam. Three words that landed like punches. The doctor was right. It was both. It had always been both.
“I’ll tell her,” Garrett said quietly, “after we catch this wackjob. After she’s safe. When she can process it without the threat hanging over her head.”
“That’s not fair to her.”
“Fair?” Garrett grunted. “For the first time since she arrived, she’s not drowning in guilt over Lily.
She’s angry. Focused. Ready to fight. If I tell her now that I’m Bobby, that I’ve been skirting the truth this entire time, it will destroy that.
She needs to hang onto her anger—not at me, at that bastard who’s screwed up her life and is coming back for more. ”
“Or it will make her feel manipulated and betrayed when she finds out later.” Vivi’s expression was sympathetic but firm. “And she will find out. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
“I know the risks.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it appears you just kissed a woman who doesn’t know your real identity.
Who doesn’t know you’re connected to the worst trauma of her life.
She believes you’re her protector, not the brother of her dead best friend.
” Vivi paused. “That’s not just dangerous for the mission. It’s dangerous for both of you.”
Garrett turned away and stared at the wall. Every word Vivi said was true. He knew it. Had known it from the moment he’d accepted this assignment and laid out his conditions.
But he couldn’t tell Claire. Not yet. Not when they were so close to catching the predator who’d been hunting her.
Not when she’d finally found her strength again.
“I’ll tell her as soon as we have the Countdown Killer in custody,” Garrett said.
“The moment he’s neutralized, I’ll sit her down and tell her everything. ”
“And if she hates you for deceiving her?”
“Then she hates me.” Garrett didn’t back down from Vivi’s challenging gaze. “But she’ll be alive. And the killer will be behind bars. That’s what matters.”
Vivi studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “You’re walking a dangerous line, Commander.”
“Been doing it my whole career, Doc.”
“When this blows up, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
His chest felt like it was packed with concrete blocks. “I always give credit where it’s due.”
Vivi shook her head. “For what it’s worth, even though I think you’re making a mistake, I understand why you’re making it. She’s an incredible woman, and she looks at you like you walk on water.”
Garrett didn’t answer. What could he say? That he’d lost control of the mission the moment Claire had looked him in the eye? That fifteen years of wanting to protect CJ had finally broken through every wall he’d built? That kissing her had felt like coming home and losing everything all at once?
“Come on,” Vivi said. “The team’s waiting. And we have a killer to catch.”
The ops room was tense when Garrett entered. Claire sat at the conference table, her posture rigid, her eyes carefully avoiding his. Lynx was at his laptop station. Grizzly stood near the tactical maps. Hawk had come in from perimeter patrol, leaving Bobcat on duty.
Everyone knew something had happened between him and Claire. The air was thick with unspoken questions. Garrett moved to the head of the table, all business. “What have you confirmed about the victim?” he asked Vivi.
“Her name was Rebecca Martinez. She was twenty-six, a dental hygienist, and lived three blocks from the coffee shop. No known connection to Claire or the other victims, but she got away from a serial rapist when she was seventeen and he was caught and imprisoned due to her testimony.”
“Has the cause of death been determined?”
“The medical examiner has confirmed that the neck wound was the cause of death. It was a single cut, left to right, and the same signature as the D.C. murders.”
Claire flinched. Garrett saw it but didn’t acknowledge it. Couldn’t acknowledge it without everyone seeing too much.
“Time of death?” he asked.
Vivi peered through her readers. “Estimated between eight and nine. About an hour after we sent the message to the killer.”
“So he killed her, then responded to our message by posting about it,” Hawk said, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Sick bastard.”
Claire’s hands were clenched on the table. “He wanted me to know. Wanted me to feel responsible.”
“Which is exactly what we’re not going to let happen,” Garrett said. The concrete in his chest still weighed him down, but he knew he had to keep Claire angry, not feeling guilty. “He’s playing psychological games to disempower you. Are you going to let him do that, Agent Dawson?”
Her eyes met his. “Hell, no.”
Garrett smiled. “Hell, no.”
Claire’s Bureau phone buzzed. She looked at the screen, her expression shifting. “It’s Reeves.”
“Answer it,” Garrett said. “Put it on speaker.”
Claire hit the button. “Marcus?”
“Claire.” Reeves’s voice filled the room. He sounded tired, stressed. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. I’ve been running down a lead.”
“What kind of lead?”
“Your ex-boyfriend. James Cohen.”
The room went still. Garrett watched Claire’s face carefully. In it, he saw confusion, then recognition.
“James?” she shook her head. “I haven’t talked to him in three years. We both had extremely stressful jobs and eventually realized it just wasn’t working. We broke up and moved on. There’s no way—”
“I know. I investigated him anyway so that we could rule him out.” Papers rustled in the background.
“James Cohen, thirty-two years old. D.C. lawyer working for the CIA’s Office of General Counsel.
Married eighteen months ago, has one kid.
He’s been thoroughly vetted by the Agency.
Multiple background checks, polygraphs, the works.
His wife confirmed he’s been home every night for the past six months.
Security footage from his office building corroborates his whereabouts during all the D.C. murders.”
“So he’s clear,” Garrett said.
“Completely. No connection to the Countdown Killer. No motive or opportunity.” Reeves paused. “But I did find something else while I was digging.”
Claire leaned forward. “What?”
“I went to Derek, one of your IT support guys, to help me get the info on James. You know Derek?”
Claire’s brow furrowed. “Derek Sullivan? Of course. He’s been with the Bureau for... I don’t know, as long as I have? He’s always been really helpful whenever I have tech issues.”
Garrett’s instincts prickled. “What about him?”
“He hasn’t shown up for work in two days,” Reeves said.
“No call, either, to ask for time off. He has a spotless record and has never even taken a sick day until now. His supervisor tried reaching him yesterday but there was no answer. Went by his apartment this morning. No one was home. His car’s gone. It’s like he vanished.”
The room went silent.
“Two days,” Lynx said quietly. “That’s when Claire arrived in Montana.”
“Could be a coincidence,” Hawk offered, but his tone said he didn’t believe it.
“Or it could be our guy,” Garrett said.