“Did I misread what I saw? Was it all in my imagination?”

Lie to her. That was all he needed to do. One tiny lie, let her down easy, and this crisis was averted. Moments passed. It was his tactical advantage and he knew he should take it.

But looking into her precious brown eyes, her sweet face, he couldn’t do it. “No. You didn’t imagine it.”

She took a step closer. He took a step back.

“Why, Derek?” Her question was barely more than a whisper. “Why have you stayed away from me all this time? You’ve had to know I wanted to be with you.”

“Molly, our worlds don’t mix. I’m not the right person for you.”

“Don’t you think I should get to be the judge of that?”

Special Forces Saviour

Janie Crouch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANIE CROUCH has loved to read romance her whole life. She cut her teeth on Mills & Boon Romance novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. Janie enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie-watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can find out more about her at www.janiecrouch.com.

To my grandparents: Mittie and Quinton King, as you celebrate your 70th(!!!) wedding anniversary this very month. All the romantic stories I’ll ever write will never compare to the true love you’ve lived in a lifetime together. You’ve taught me that marriage is 80% adoration and 20% exasperation, but no matter what, it is always filled with respect. Thank you for being a living example of what love is to your children, your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren.

Your legacy is many things, but most important, it is love.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Pinned down behind his car with someone shooting at him from across the street was not how Omega Sector agent Derek Waterman had planned to spend his afternoon. He wasn’t exactly sure how he had planned to spend his afternoon, but this was definitely not it.

Derek slid closer to the ground as a bullet whizzed past his head and shattered the concrete behind him.

Whoa. Too close.

The saving grace in this situation was at least the entire block was empty of any innocent bystanders. No upstanding citizen had much reason to be in this section of West Philly. The less upstanding citizens had exited when Derek and his team had shown up, obviously law enforcement, and the shooting had started.

“Uh, what exactly was the intel you got on this place again, Derek?” Jon Hatton asked from where he was also pinned down a few feet away. Although highly trained in weapons and combat as all Omega Sector’s Critical Response agents were, Jon was primarily a behavior analyst in the Crisis Management Unit.

“What’s the matter? You having problems remembering how to use your weapon, Jon? Too much analyzing, not enough action in your life?” Liam Goetz, the other team member, smacked his gum and grinned. As a member of Omega’s Hostage Rescue team, no one ever asked Liam if he remembered how to use a weapon. Liam had pretty much been born with one in his hand.

“I’m just asking to see if there is any sort of plan here besides hide behind the car until the bad guys run out of ammo,” Jon responded. “Which, at the rate they’re shooting, should be sometime next week.”

True, the number of shots being fired at them seemed to be dwindling. The people in the building obviously weren’t trying to kill Derek and his team, just keep them pinned. But damned if this entire situation wasn’t starting to piss Derek off.

The empty apartment building across the street gave the enemy the tactical advantage. That advantage wasn’t something Derek, as the lead tactical team specialist of Omega’s SWAT generally gave up.

But the intel they’d received on this location had required an immediate response. Time for tactical analysis hadn’t been available. Thus, the taking cover behind their SUV as the bullets flew by their heads.

Derek had moved in on this location so quickly because it had been the first substantial lead pertaining to a terrorist attack on Chicago two weeks earlier. A bombing that had killed or injured over five hundred people.

None of the leads Omega had followed up on until now—and there had been hundreds of them—had provided any useful intel. Each location had been totally cold.

Another bullet flew by. This location definitely wasn’t cold.

“All right, to hell with this.” Derek looked over at Liam. “Jon and I will lay down cover-fire. You head around to the back of the building.”

Liam was grinning like an idiot. He loved this sort of thing, danger be damned. “Now you’re talking.”

Derek nodded. “Remember, we need them alive, if at all possible.”

“Hey, it’s me!” Liam actually winked at them. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Derek rolled his eyes and heard Jon groan under his breath as Liam made his way down the line of abandoned cars parked on the street. Still using their SUV for as much cover as possible, Derek and Jon began firing their weapons toward the abandoned building, hoping to draw any return-fire back at them and away from Liam.

But there were no shots at all coming at them from the house.

Derek looked over at Jon. “Again.”

Using the hood to brace his arm, Derek fired three shots at the house while Jon did the same from the rear of the vehicle. Still no return-fire. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Liam make it across the street at the side of the building. No shots were fired at him, either.

The bad guys weren’t in the building anymore; they must be on the run. Whoever had been shooting at them just a few moments ago was Omega’s best lead in Chicago’s terrorist attack. They were the only lead. And now they were about to get away.

“Move in, but be careful,” Derek said to Jon as they made their way forward, weapons still raised.

Derek was reaching for the knob of the door, Jon covering him from a cross angle when they heard a rapid burst of gunfire from the back of the building where Liam had been heading.

Both men backed out of the doorway and sprinted around the building without a word. Each of them knew that getting inside was secondary to helping Liam if he was under fire. As they rounded the building, Derek was relieved to see Liam unharmed, chasing a suspect farther down the road behind the apartment building. Derek and Jon continued running to catch up with them. Helping capture a known suspect was better than sticking around for what may or may not be in the house.

“Stay with them,” Derek told Jon, then made a sharp turn. He would run down a parallel side street and try to cut off the runner. He forced more speed out of his legs.

As he made a sharp turn around the next group of buildings, Derek saw the perp slowing down with Liam only a few yards behind him, Jon just beyond that.

It was obvious Liam was going to catch the guy at any moment, and the perp knew it, too. He fired his weapon at the Omega agents behind his back in some haphazard fashion without even stopping his run, but the bullets didn’t come anywhere near either of them.

Derek turned again and began running toward them.

“Stop!” he called out to the man, and saw distress wash over his face. The man stopped running altogether, sliding to an awkward stop.

“You’re under arrest,” Derek continued between breaths. “Place the gun on the ground and put your hands on your head.”

The man turned around, frantically looking for another way out, but didn’t put his gun down. All the Omega agents gripped their weapons tighter. Nobody wanted to shoot this suspect, he was too important. But they would if necessary. Especially if he turned his weapon on them rather than where it currently lay in his hand pointing at the ground.

“Put your weapon down,” Derek repeated. He nodded toward the ground with his forehead, as the man turned back in his direction. “Do you understand? All we want to do is ask you some questions.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but Derek just wanted to get the man’s gun out of his hand.

The man nodded and Derek eased his finger off the trigger just the slightest bit. But then, almost as if it was in slow motion, and before any of them could react, the guy brought his gun up to his own temple and fired. He crumpled to the ground, dead instantly.

Derek’s curse was vile. Jon rushed up to the man and crouched down to take his pulse at the wrist, but Derek knew it was too late.

Their best lead—their only lead—had just blown his brains out rather than be taken into custody.

He looked over at Jon and Liam. “We need to call this in. Omega and local PD.”

Liam already had his phone out. “On it.”

“Okay, stay with the body until they get here.” Derek turned back toward the house. “Jon, let’s go see if there’s anything in the house. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

They hadn’t gone more than a few steps before they smelled it. Smoke, coming from the building the potential terrorist had just vacated.

If possible, Derek’s curse was even more vile. A burned house would destroy all possible evidence. The poor dead guy had probably just been a decoy to lure the Omega team away so whoever was left could start the fire.

Jon and Derek sprinted back to the house. Smoke was pouring out of the windows. If they were going to be able to salvage anything useful, they’d have to do it in a hurry. As safely as possible, Derek opened the back door, throwing a latex glove onto one hand to grab anything that might be useful for the investigation. Then he took off his jacket to use as a filter over his mouth.

Inside, everything was in flames. Whoever had been here had used some sort of accelerating agent, probably gasoline, to make the place burn more quickly. Bending low under the smoke, he and Jon made their way farther inside.

They’d been in the house less than a minute, squinting their way through the smoke and heat, when Jon pulled on Derek’s shoulder, gesturing back toward the door. Jon was right. This was too dangerous. They needed answers about the terrorist attack, but it wasn’t worth either of them losing their lives.

Derek saw a few pieces of some sort of computer hardware sitting broken on the floor. He crawled to them, wincing as his hand was burned picking up the more substantial pieces and placing them inside his jacket pocket. Jon was pulling on him again and Derek could feel the hairs singeing on his arms from the heat. It was time to go.

As they rushed to get out, Derek saw something just under the layer of smoke lying near the edge of the kitchen table. It looked like some sort of communication device, or maybe some sort of drive, about half the size of a cell phone. Derek pushed Jon toward the door, then dropped to his hands and knees to crawl to it. The smoke was now too heavy to remain upright. Derek smelled the putrid stench of burning flesh just before he felt pain on his shoulders and back. He was too close to the heat and it was burning his skin. He grabbed the device and wrapped it in his jacket, then began crawling for the door.

Or at least he hoped he was crawling in the direction of the door. He could no longer see in the smoke. Breathing was becoming damn near impossible. Derek kept crawling forward.

Hands reached from in front of him, grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him out of the building and into blessed clean and cool air.

“You are one stubborn son of a bitch,” Jon murmured to him as he dragged Derek down the three steps onto the ground.

“I’m okay,” Derek wheezed out, crawling a few more steps before sprawling on the ground. The pain in his back and shoulders was uncomfortable, but not excruciating. His lungs, though, felt seared. Both men lay, watching the building burn for long minutes, Derek’s lungs finally feeling a bit of ease as he continued to breathe clean air. Eventually he could hear the sirens signaling the firefighters’ arrival.

“I hope you got something in there,” Jon told him, obviously hearing the sirens, too. “Because the only thing that destroys evidence quicker than fire—”

“Is extinguishing it,” Derek finished for him. Water, foam, the firemen themselves. All were hell on evidence.

“Yep.”

“I think I might have gotten something important.” Still lying in the mostly dead grass of a lawn that hadn’t seen proper care for decades, Derek explained about the communication device. “We need to get it back to the lab so Molly can try to recover information from it.”

Jon snickered. “Uh, o-o-okay, D-Derek.” The stuttering was completely for show.

Sitting up, Derek rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Jon. She’s not that bad.” Derek knew he shouldn’t try to defend Molly Humphries, the forensic lab director. Yeah, the pretty pathologist tended to get a little tongue-tied around Derek. But the more he tried to defend her to his colleagues when they mentioned it—which was as often as damn possible—the worse everyone teased.

Jon smiled. “Hey, you know I like sweet Molly as much as anyone. But I have to admit that watching her go from the most intelligent scientist I know to a blushing, stammering schoolgirl around you is one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Shut up, Jon,” Derek repeated. “Just focus on the case.”

Jon was wise enough not to say anything else about Molly Humphries.

Both Jon and Derek were seen by paramedics as they waited for the firefighters to finish their job. Derek was decreed as suffering from first-degree burns on his shoulders and smoke inhalation, but didn’t require further medical attention. As he and Jon watched the firefighters work diligently, neither held out much hope of finding any further evidence. They would still check.

Liam joined them once local law enforcement came to pick up the body of the guy who had shot himself. Liam had taken the dead man’s prints and his weapon, as well as a sample of the man’s DNA. The body would be delivered to the Omega morgue later. All the items Liam had collected would go straight back to the lab.

A dead suspect, a burnt building and a few broken pieces of possible evidence. All in all a pretty terrible day. Definitely not any closer to solving the terrorist attack on Chicago. And Derek knew they were going to get chewed out again for it. Govermental-type bigwigs all the way up the food chain were demanding answers for the bombing. Derek was scheduled to provide an update to a committee via teleconference in just a few hours.

Derek wasn’t looking forward to that. Especially not now, with nothing to show.

Derek’s only hope now was that Molly, with all her magic in her lab, could salvage something out of this mess. Molly had saved Derek before. He prayed she could do it again.

Chapter Two

Molly Humphries caught a look at her shoes as she carried an armful of case files across the lab to her desk. How she hated her sensible shoes. They were flat, unimaginative and...well, just sensible. Plain and brown.

That her shoes were a symbolic reflection of her personal life was not lost on Molly.

She had no idea why the shoes were offending her so much on this particular day, when she’d been wearing them every day for over six months. They’d faithfully seen her through long weeks at the lab where she’d sometimes put in sixty or seventy hours a week. Her shoes got the job done, gave her no cause for complaints and never drew attention to themselves for the wrong reasons.

Oh man, the metaphors just kept coming, didn’t they?

She should be thankful for her shoes now, for their comfort and sensibleness, since she’d already been on her feet for ten hours, and the day wasn’t close to over. Molly loved her job as director of Omega Critical Response Division’s main forensic lab here in Colorado Springs. Her work was challenging and fulfilling. Molly excelled at it, both as one of the leading pathologists in the country and as supervisor of the dozen people who worked daily in the lab.

Molly stopped and added another case file to the pile she was carrying. Not that they couldn’t use twice as many technicians working here. That’s how much material was constantly brought in for them to process. The forensic lab handled just about everything having to do with evidence: toxicology, trace reports, forensic biology, pathology, prints, DNA and even human remains for all the Critical Response Division cases. Therefore the lab was in a constant state of backup. Hiring more technicians was on Molly’s to-do list, but the qualifications and security clearance required to work at Omega made the candidate pool slim.

So for right now Molly planned to continue working twelve-to fourteen-hour days to help keep the lab producing results at the speed they were needed. Like today. She’d arrived at seven o’clock this morning and was still here even though it was nearly eight in the evening. She definitely needed to cut her sensible shoes a break.

The other lab technicians had left a couple of hours ago, but being here by herself wasn’t unusual or even unpleasant. Molly didn’t expect her lab technicians to put in the same crazy hours she did. Often some of them were willing to stay late or come early if Molly asked, but she tried not to impose unless it was an emergency. These people had family. Molly didn’t, so it was easier for her to stay. Nobody was going to miss her at home.

Molly got along well with all the people who worked in her lab. She treated them with the respect they deserved and, in turn, they worked hard. The key was direct, clear, respectful communication. Molly prided herself that she was not only good at the science part of her job, she was good at the communication aspect with her colleagues, as well.

Derek Waterman walked through the swinging double doors of the inner lab.

Well, maybe not all her colleagues.

Molly turned away quickly and placed the files on her desk. She put them right smack in the middle so she wouldn’t accidentally knock them over. Molly had been known to do stupid things like that while in the presence of Derek.

Jon Hatton and Liam Goetz were with Derek and none of them looked too happy. Molly could smell smoke on them from across the lab, coming from them. Derek had been in a fire.

“Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” Molly rushed across the room, her long French-braided brown hair swinging over the shoulder of the white lab coat she always wore. These were three of the most intelligent and able-bodied men she’d ever known, but as active Omega agents they put their lives on the line daily.

“We’re fine, sweet Molly,” Jon said to her as she stopped a few feet away from them. “Unless you count your boy Derek here almost being trapped in a burning building as not okay.”

Molly felt the air rush out of her lungs. She looked over at Derek for just a moment, needing to take in with her own eyes that he wasn’t, indeed, seriously injured. His dark brown, almost-black hair had the tousled, disheveled look it always did, the five-o’clock shadow a permanent fixture on his chiseled face. He was leaning against one of the research tables, his long legs extended in front of him. She couldn’t see any signs of pain based on his body language or facial expressions. Just a slight stiffness in how he held his back.

Molly knew Derek well enough to know that meant he’d been hurt.

“Did you burn your sh-shoulders?” she asked him, the words barely coming out in a whisper. Molly pressed her lips together and looked down at her shoes. She heard Liam snicker quietly before Jon nudged him.

“Yes, but I’m okay. Very minor first-degree burns on my shoulders and back,” Derek responded. “No real harm.”

Molly just nodded, relieved the burns weren’t serious, although she could tell he had also suffered, at least to some small degree, from smoke inhalation. Derek’s sexy voice was even deeper and more gravelly than usual, and although she hated the cause, Molly couldn’t help but shiver slightly at the rougher sound of it.

Of course, then she felt like a fool, as she always did when Derek was around, for the way she was acting. Molly turned to a desk behind her and pretended to sort through files. She didn’t blame Jon and Liam for snickering. Her behavior every time Derek entered the room was snicker-worthy.

“We’ve got some evidence from a lead we followed dealing with the Chicago bombing,” Liam said as he began unpacking various evidence bags and laying them out on the table.

Molly walked back around to the table so she was on the far side, careful not to look at Derek in any way, not even out of the corner of her eye. It seemed as if they had about a dozen items that needed processing.

“We need a complete work up on all of it,” Jon told her. “DNA, fingerprints, any possible trace evidence. Everything.”

Molly picked up one of the bags containing some sort of piece of computer hardware inside. “Was this evidence from the burning building?”

“Not all of it,” Derek answered her, causing Molly to study the contents of the bag more carefully so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Some of it is from what was left of a suspect before he killed himself. But the rest is from the burnt building.”

“Is the body coming in here, too? Will I need to process that?” She looked at Liam and Jon as she said it.

Liam shook his head. “Yes, but not until later. Local coroner will be bringing it by. We brought prints and DNA so you could get started.”

“You know, the stuff from the fire will take longer. It will have to be manually run through the system, based on layers of damage. Probably have to use a clean room.” Molly put the bag back on the table. “Put it all over on the in-processing shelf. I’ll try to get somebody started on it in the morning, but it might be in the afternoon.”

Both Liam and Jon started talking at her immediately, voices raised, speaking all over each other. Derek, she noticed, didn’t say anything. Molly held up a hand and eventually the two men stopped talking at the same time.

“Molly, this is a priority,” Liam said. “It has to do with the Chicago bombing.”

“I understand, Liam, but—”

“The largest terrorist attack on American soil in over five years,” Jon continued. “We need the results on all of it right away.”

Molly glanced quickly at Derek. He was just standing there, arms crossed over his large chest. She looked away again, not knowing what she would do if he interjected into the argument. Molly understood the men’s frustration, she really did.

She looked over at the pile of files and packages of evidence on her desk. The problem was, every case was this important to someone. Those packages might provide clues to missing children, or someone’s murder, or the identity of a serial rapist.

Everybody needed everything right away and that just wasn’t possible.

“You guys,” Molly looked at Jon and Liam, and even risked a glance at Derek. “I—I’m sorry. We’re backed up in here.”

“Molly.” Liam wouldn’t let it go. “We need all this now. It’s vital.”

Molly threw her arm out toward the files on her desk. “All those cases are vital to someone, too, Liam. And they’ve been waiting longer than you.”

Both Jon and Liam began their arguments again, but Molly tuned them out. She hated being in this position; hated having to tell them to wait. She knew the men weren’t making demands arbitrarily—what they needed was important. Brows furrowed, she looked down at the items on the table again, began trying to sort through them a little bit. Maybe if she stayed here all night she could get at least a couple of the pieces processed after she finished the cases sitting on her desk.

But which evidence pieces should she process first if she could only get to one or two tonight? In the midst of categorizing the evidence bags in her mind, and placing them in different groups on the table, Molly didn’t realize Liam and Jon had stopped pleading their case.

Or that Derek had come to stand right behind her as she sorted through the evidence bags. He reached over and took the bag out of her hand and laid it on the table, and picked up two others near it.

Startled, Molly spun around, then immediately regretted it as she found herself trapped between the evidence table and Derek’s hard body. Oh, dear lord. Was she supposed to be able to come up with actual words right now? Something coherent?

Derek took a small step backward, just enough so he could hold one of the evidence bags up between them.

“This one is most important,” he said softly, holding up a small bag with what looked like part of a phone or communication device. “Although I know it’s partially melted and will be difficult. The other is just the prints from the dead guy to run for ID. Should be simple. Both as soon as you can manage, Molly. But I know your other work here is also important.”

Molly just nodded.

Derek hooked a finger into the hip pocket of her lab coat. He took the two small evidence bags and dropped them in. But instead of letting her go as she expected, he placed both hands on her waist.

Molly pretty much forgot how to breathe.

“Thank you,” Derek said, his gravelly voice playing havoc with her insides. “I know this means more work for you, and I’m sorry.”

“It—it’s okay.”

“Did you eat dinner?”

“Um, today?”

Derek shook his head and sighed. “I want you to eat something, all right?” His hands tightened the slightest bit on her waist. “You’re too tiny as it is.”

“Wh-what?” Since when was Derek aware of her eating habits?

“And not the vending machine. A real, proper meal. Promise me you’ll go down to the cafeteria tonight and eat something if you’re working here a long time.”

Molly nodded.

“And not tomorrow morning. Tonight, okay? In the next couple of hours,” Derek asked again. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Molly forced the words to come out with no stammer.

Derek smiled, and for a second looked as if he was going to say something else, but then Liam and Jon began talking to each other as they repacked the other evidence to be placed on the in-processing shelf. Whatever Derek had been about to say in that moment was gone.

He dropped his hands from Molly’s waist and took a step back. “Thanks for processing that communication device tonight. I’m hoping it may be a key piece in the Chicago case.”

Without another word, Derek turned and walked out the lab doors. Jon and Liam said their goodbyes as they left, too. Molly finally began breathing normally again.

But as the doors closed, she heard it, although they obviously didn’t mean for her to: quiet laughter and the words Mousy Molly.

Molly stayed where she was against the evidence table as if glued there. It wasn’t Derek who called her mousy, it was never Derek. But it was everyone else. Molly didn’t think Jon and Liam meant any harm by the expression, but it was true. Molly was mousy in all its elements: nervous, shy, lacking in presence or charisma. Heck even her coloring was mousy: brown eyes, brown hair.

Okay, yeah, it hurt a little bit. Molly didn’t want to be mousy. And really most of the time she wasn’t that bad. It was just when she was around Derek that she became unbearable to herself.

Molly brought her hands down to her waist where Derek’s had been. Derek had actually touched her. That didn’t happen very often. Although they saw each other a few times a week, Derek was very careful not to touch her in even the most casual way.

He really hadn’t touched her at all since the time he showed up at her condo three years ago—drunk—and they’d had sex.

Molly still grimaced when she thought about it. He’d been inebriated, he’d needed a friend. She should’ve just made a pallet for him on her couch and let him sleep it off.

Instead of taking him to her bed and having the most wonderful night of her life.

Except Derek had been gone when she woke up the next morning. And he had never brought it up again, so she assumed he didn’t remember much about that night at all. But Molly did. She also remembered their embrace in the lab about a year ago... The only other time he’d touched her.

Molly sighed and pushed herself off the table. There was no way she was going to start thinking about this again. She had entirely too much work to do. She would put in a call to David, the newest young tech, and see if he was willing to make some extra money by coming back in and helping her with this processing.

There was a lot of important work to do and she planned to get it done. She might be Mousy Molly like the guys said, but there was one thing she knew how to do well: her job.

Chapter Three

Derek cringed when he heard Jon and Liam’s Mousy Molly comments as they followed him out the lab doors. How he hated that nickname. He knew the guys didn’t really mean any harm by it, neither Jon nor Liam would ever purposely be unkind to someone like Molly, but Derek still hated it.

“I think you probably could’ve pushed to get more of our evidence processed tonight,” Jon said with a little snicker as they walked down the hallway. “I don’t know why Liam and I even tried talking to her. We should’ve used you from the beginning.”

“It’s not like that, Jon.” Derek kept walking, hoping they’d just drop it. They had a meeting with Omega’s Critical Response Division Director Steve Drackett in five minutes, teleconference with state officials not long afterward.

Both men laughed. “Uh, it’s exactly like that. Of course, it’s always like that with Molly when it comes to you,” Liam told him.

Jon continued, “Yeah, if you had asked her to process all our evidence tonight I bet she would’ve done it. If she could’ve managed to get a sentence out.”

Liam stopped walking and, with a dramatic sigh, grabbed Jon by the waist and pushed him up against the hallway wall. Liam pulled out a pen and held it in front of Jon’s face.

Derek stopped to watch the show that was obviously for him.

“Just this one piece of evidence, Molly.” Liam deepened his voice to mimic Derek, wiggling the pen and keeping his other hand on Jon’s waist.

Jon’s falsetto was even more annoying, especially given he was three inches taller than Liam’s six-one. “B-but D-Derek, we’re s-so busy.”

If anything, Liam’s voice got even deeper. “Please, Molly. For me? Because I’m Derek Waterman and I’m the best agent in the world.”

“For you D-Derek, anything.” Derek watched as his two coworkers embraced, then pulled apart, bowing.

Derek raised an eyebrow and just stared at them. “You morons done?”

He started walking down the hallway again.

“Oh, come on, Derek.” Jon caught up to him first. “We like Molly as much as anybody. Hell, everybody likes her, she’s so sweet and kind. But she gets so awkward around you, it’s pretty entertaining.”

“Obviously, she’s not your type,” Liam continued. “That’s cool.”

“What do you mean she’s not my type?” Derek knew he shouldn’t let himself get drawn into this conversation, but couldn’t help it.

Of course Liam was right, Molly wasn’t his type. Molly was sweet, kind, tender, gentle.

Everything Derek knew he should stay away from. Everything he knew he would destroy if he allowed himself near.

“I just mean you’re not interested or attracted or whatever. It’s obvious by the way I’ve never even seen you touch her before today.” Liam shrugged. “You don’t take advantage of her feelings, which is admirable.”

Yeah, Derek tried not to touch Molly, because every time he did it went further than he wanted. Like a few minutes ago. He’d touched her waist, and all he could think about was sitting her up on that table and kissing her until neither of them even remembered what the word evidence meant.

“Yeah, I wish someone would get that tongue-tied around me,” Jon said. “At least you got her to process the important evidence.”

“Molly works hard, you guys. She’s probably going to be here all night, doing what we asked plus all her other stuff. None of us will be working all night. So stow the comments.”

That shut them up. Good. Derek needed to drag his focus away from Molly Humphries and back onto this case since they were walking into the director’s office.

“Quite a mess today, gentlemen,” Steve Drackett, division director, said as he opened his office door and met them in the hallway. “Walk with me on the way to the teleconference room.”

“Yeah, it was a mess,” Derek told him.

“What happened?” Steve’s tone wasn’t angry or condescending.

Derek explained what happened this afternoon, about the suspect killing himself and the house being burned to the ground. Since no harm had come to any bystanders, it was a little easier to report.

“So today was both good and bad,” Steve said.

“Mostly bad,” Jon muttered.

They made it to the conference room door. Derek opened it and they all moved inside. Steve had been giving daily briefings to a group of DC state officials—a committee of congressmen, senators, members of the Department of Defense and Department of Justice—each day since the Chicago bombing. Since Omega Sector’s Critical Response Division was a multiagency task force made up of the best people each agency had to offer, faster, better and more detailed results were generally expected. And they were expected from people very high up in the governmental food chain.

So not having those expected results, hell, not having any results at all when they reported every day was getting a little old for everyone.

“We’ve got just over seven minutes until the call,” the technician working the room told them. In seven minutes they would be staring down five different government officials on different screens.

“The only good thing to report about today is that it was at least an actual live lead,” Derek told Steve. “We’ve personally followed up dozens since the Chicago attack which have led to nothing. This at least led to something.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, an important something. Critical enough that your suspect would kill himself rather than be taken into custody. That’s pretty extreme. Do we know who the guy was?”

“Lab is running prints. We’ll know in the morning. Local PD should be bringing the body, too.”

“Yes, I got a report that the body was on its way, should be here within the hour,” Steve told them.

“Hopefully this guy’s ID should provide some sort of clue,” Liam said, settling himself in a corner that would be out of the way of the cameras. Smart man. “But not as much as having him alive for questioning. Sorry, boss, if I’d had any inclination that he would off himself, I would’ve tackled him. I thought he might shoot at us, but not himself.”

Steve shrugged. “You did the best you could with the info you had. Don’t beat yourself up.”

One thing Derek liked about having Drackett as his boss was that Steve hadn’t been out of the field so long that he’d forgotten that sometimes things just went to hell for no particular reason. Steve was probably only ten years older than Derek’s thirty-three years.

“Was anything recovered from the house before the fire completely burned it down?” Steve asked.

“We got out a few potential pieces of evidence. One looked particularly promising. Some sort of communication device. Looks like it could hold pictures or other data, if it can be retrieved,” Derek told him, as Steve took notes. “Molly is rush-processing that for us herself tonight.”

Jon and Liam made eye contact with each other at that, but Derek ignored them.

“Molly’s got to get more people hired in the lab so she’s not at Omega twenty hours a day.” Steve scribbled something else on his notepad. Derek hoped it was a reminder to talk to Molly so she could get some of the lab workload off her shoulders. She looked tired.

Pretty, as always, but tired.

“What I find most interesting,” Derek said, reining in his thoughts, “is that whatever was there, they burnt the building to the ground to get rid of it, definitely using an accelerant. The fire was almost as drastic as the guy killing himself.”

“Which means you were really close to something,” Steve finished for him. “All right, let’s present this to the committee.”

“One minute until the call, sir,” the technician told him.

Steve nodded and looked at Derek. “You ready?”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “Getting chewed out by government officials who really have no idea how to do police work is the favorite part of my day.”

“First caller is connecting now,” the technician announced. Derek and Steve sat down behind the computer that would show all the people on the call, and also make Derek and Steve visible to them.

And great, it was Congressman Donald Hougland. Always the first person on the video call and the last person off. And always the most vocal about Omega Sector’s lack of results with the bombing.

“Gentlemen,” Congressman Hougland said. “Hope we have good news today. Or at least not no news at all, as usual.”

Derek reminded himself not to roll his eyes because that could be seen by the other man.

“Congressman Hougland.” Steve was a much better diplomat so Derek let him talk. “We’re just waiting for the others, and we’ll provide an update. We’ve had a breakthrough. I believe you’ll be pleased.”

“I doubt it,” the older man said. “For an organization that’s supposed to be stellar, I’ve yet to see evidence of that. Of course, I’ve yet to see evidence of anything.” He laughed at his own joke.

Thankfully, the other committee members chose that moment to connect to the conference call so Derek could force himself to swallow his tart retort for Congressman Hougland.

Derek had been raised on a ranch in Wyoming by his reluctant, confirmed-bachelor uncle when Derek’s parents had died when he was twelve. So cursing had been a prevalent part of his upbringing.

But telling a US congressman to kiss his ass was probably not going to help any part of this conference call or overall situation. He could see Steve looking over at him cautiously as if preparing to kick him under the table if he opened his mouth. Derek glanced at him and nodded to let him know he wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

The head of the committee, and much more amiable, Senator Edmundson, opened the conference. “Director Drackett, Agent Waterman, thank you for speaking with us today. We know your time is valuable.”

“Senator,” Steve responded respectfully. “Ladies and gentlemen.”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Robert,” Congressman Hougland said, practically cutting off Steve’s greeting to the committee. “Drackett mentioned they have some news. I’d be thrilled to hear that.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

Annoyance floated over Senator Edmundson’s face before he reschooled it into its polite mask.

“All right, then. Director Drackett, please.”

“Agent Waterman and his colleagues received a tip earlier today while returning from Chicago. They changed route midflight and headed to Philadelphia. Upon their arrival at the location, they were met with gunfire.”

The men and women were listening attentively from their screens. It made for a nice change from the past two weeks when they’d had nothing of any interest to report.

“One man gave chase, and unfortunately killed himself rather than be taken into custody,” Steve continued. “The suspects also burned the location to the ground while the team was chasing the running suspect.”

“So basically, Agent Waterman, you had a more exciting day, but still have nothing to show for it,” Congressman Hougland jumped in. “Is that correct?”

Derek counted to three before answering. He’d once been thrown from a spooked horse and had to walk the four miles home on a broken ankle. He’d survived that.

He could survive this.

“Actually, Congressman, we were able to retrieve a few pieces of evidence from the house before it was totally destroyed. One piece in particular, a communication device of some kind, looks particularly interesting. Although it was damaged by the fire, we’re hopeful the data on it can be retrieved.”

Most of the committee were nodding, at least accepting that this was progress. Not Hougland.

“Hopeful,” he scoffed. “Not exactly confidence-inspiring.”

“All right, Don, let’s stay positive,” Senator Edmundson said.

“The only thing I’m becoming positive about is that Omega Sector might not be living up to its reputation any longer,” Hougland spat back.

Derek’s lips thinned. As much as he disliked the congressman, the man wasn’t totally incorrect. He and the team had been pretty inept on this Chicago case. They hadn’t caught a single break until today.

“We should also have identification of the dead man soon,” Drackett told the committee. “That will also point us in a direction.”

“The body is there now, at your facility in Colorado?” Senator Edmundson asked.

Steve nodded. “Yes, our lab is or very soon will be, running the prints. We’ll also have any other helpful evidence from the body.”

“And the communication device? When will you know if that will provide anything useful?” Hougland asked.

“By tomorrow morning,” Derek replied. He hoped that would be true. “The lab is working on it tonight.”

That seemed to placate everyone. Since there weren’t any other questions from the committee and Hougland had evidently gotten tired of poking holes at their case, Steve said good-night to everyone, promising to keep them posted. After the last of the committee had disconnected from the screens, Derek ran a weary hand over his face.

Jon and Liam stood up from their chairs in the corner.

“I am so glad I’m not you guys,” Jon said. “That was brutal.”

Derek couldn’t agree more. He just wanted to get home, change out of his smoky clothes and shower. The burns on his back and shoulders were still bothering him a little. Everyone said their good-nights, agreeing to meet back first thing in the morning.

Derek partly wanted to go check on Molly, but decided it was better to just let her work on her own since his presence tended to discombobulate her so much. But he hated that she had more work on her plate—probably a whole night’s worth—because of him. Derek promised himself that when this case was over, he would make sure that Steve forced Molly to hire some more people for the lab.

He needed a good night’s sleep. Once they had this evidence in hand, it would hopefully lead them somewhere, and they’d all need to be able to hit the ground running. Derek was still thinking about the evidence through his meal, shower and even as he was falling asleep. Why would someone kill himself rather than be arrested? What was on that device that was worth burning a building to the ground? Molly’s results would point them in the direction they needed to go. He drifted off to sleep with it on his mind.

The phone ringing at 2:42 a.m. jerked him out of his sleep. This was not the first call he’d gotten from Omega in the middle of the night. Derek looked at the caller ID: Steve Drackett.

“Steve, what’s up?” Derek tried to wipe the sleep from his voice the best he could.

“Derek, I need you to get back to HQ right away. There’s been an explosion at the building. I’m on my way in now, but you’re closer.”

Derek was instantly awake. “Like what, a fire?”

“No. I don’t have many details yet, but I know it was an explosion. In the forensic lab.”

Derek could actually feel his heart stop beating. “Forensic lab?” he parroted.

“Yes. And I know there’s at least one confirmed death.”

Chapter Four

Derek’s general idea of “help from above” was a sniper on the roof, but he prayed like he had never prayed before as he broke multiple traffic laws driving back to Omega Headquarters in downtown Colorado Springs.

It was nearly three in the morning. The forensic lab had just exploded. One person was dead.

No matter how much he tried to twist it, there was no way to think that it wasn’t Molly. Who else would even be there at almost three o’clock in the morning?

Acid ate at his gut when Derek thought of the fact that she wouldn’t have been there at all if he hadn’t asked her to stay. To do something specifically for him.

But he categorically refused to assume the worst until there was no other choice. Until he was presented with proof positive that it was Molly who was dead.

He hit the gas harder and rounded a corner, nearly blinded by all the emergency vehicle lights parked at Omega. A uniformed officer stopped him from pulling into the parking lot, but let Derek through when he flashed his badge and ID.

Which saved Derek from having to pull his gun on the man. Because there was no way in hell he wasn’t getting into that parking lot.

Chaos reigned as Derek parked his car far enough away not to hinder any emergency vehicles and jogged over to a small group of personnel who seemed to be directing the efforts.

Behind them he could see the building burning, the concentration of flames largest in the southwest corner. Smoke billowed from right where the forensic lab was located—what was left of it.

“I’m Omega agent Derek Waterman, standing in for Director Drackett until he gets here in a few minutes.” Derek pulled out his ID, but the men barely glanced at it.

“Captain Jim Brandal, with Station 433,” the man closest to Derek, holding a hand radio, said, nodding at him. “You’ve had some sort of explosion in the southwest corner of the building.”

“That’s the forensic lab.” Derek kept the panic out of his voice.

Captain Brandal looked over at the man standing next to him and both of their faces turned more grim. “That’s what we figured. Any hazardous materials there?”

Derek shrugged. He was sure there were, but he didn’t know what. “Almost definitely. You have one confirmed dead?” His throat tightened as he said the words.

“Yes,” Captain Brandal agreed, and then started to say more before stopping to respond to a report from the radio in his hand.

Derek shifted in frustration. Who was dead? Where? Had the ID of the victim been established?

But looking at the smoke from the forensic lab, so much more than from the house fire today that had been minutes from taking his own life, Derek realized no one could’ve survived in there.

Derek steeled himself, forced himself to cut off emotions altogether. It was one of the things he’d become an expert at over the years.

The fire department captain turned back to Derek after his radio conversation. “Sorry. Yes, one confirmed dead. But the good news is that the fire doors in the building instantly shut after the explosion. So there should be very limited causalities outside of the immediate blast site.”

Some part of Derek knew that was good, but the biggest part of him didn’t care if everyone else in the building survived if Molly had died. He managed to nod at Captain Brandal.

Brandal continued, “Based on what the firefighters closest to the blaze reported, it looks like there was an explosion in the lab, which is why we asked about hazardous materials.”

“I’m sure there were flammable items in the lab, but the safety record there is exemplary. Never been any problems reported whatsoever,” Derek told the man.

He had a hard time imagining meticulous Molly being anything but completely safe in her lab. But she was overworked and overtired. Anyone could make a mistake under those conditions.

The Captain shrugged. “It only takes one time.”

Derek felt guilt threaten to overtake him as the man’s words echoed his thoughts. But he ruthlessly tamped it down. There’d be time for guilt later. Right now he had to know the answer to the question burning a hole in his gut.

“Has the body been identified yet?” he asked through gritted teeth. Then an ugly thought hit him. “Can it even be identified here on scene?”

Maybe there wasn’t enough left of the body to be identified visually. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

“Hang on.” Captain Brandal spoke into the radio again and waited for a response. “The body is over by the paramedics. I’m sorry for your loss, but truly, with an explosion of this size, it’s nothing short of a miracle that only one life was lost.”

Nothing felt further from the truth to Derek. He wiped a hand over his face. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Paramedics said you should probably be able to ID the guy visually. If not, we can use other means.”

Derek’s head jerked up. “Guy? Paramedics are sure the victim is a man?”

Brandal spoke into his radio once again, then turned back to Derek. “Yep. Young black male. Midtwenties.”

Definitely not Molly. Derek felt relief flood through him.

But where was she?

* * *

THE EXPLOSION ROCKED the whole building. Molly had been staring at the vending machine in the break room outside the lab, feeling guilty because she had promised Derek she would eat hours ago in the cafeteria, when she found herself thrown back against the wall and crumpling to the ground.

For long, panicked moments she couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. She struggled to get her bearings, feeling around along the floor. The emergency generator lights kicked on, casting a ghoulish gray light around the break room. But at least she could see.

The vending machine lay broken on the floor, the chairs and table knocked over and scattered across the room. The coffeemaker was hanging precariously off the side of a shelf, held by just its cord plugged into the wall. Dust floated around everywhere, like snowflakes in slow motion, moving in all directions.

Molly began moving toward the hallway, trying to shake off the ringing in her ears. What had happened? Not an earthquake. It was too loud. Definitely some sort of explosion.

She needed to get back to the lab, but once she rounded the corner from the break room she realized the lab was on fire. In all the chaos it took her longer than it normally would’ve to realize that the explosion had come from the lab.

Oh, no. David had been working in there.

Molly rushed forward, but after only a few feet ran into the clear fire wall. It had automatically lowered, as it was meant to do, to keep damage from spreading. Looking into the area where the lab had once stood, she knew there was no way the young tech had made it out of there alive.

And if the explosion had happened five minutes earlier, Molly would’ve been in there with David.

She knew if this door was closed, others around the building would be, too. All she could do was wait for the firefighters to do their job. She sat back on the floor and tried to figure out what had happened. Her ears were still ringing and the room still seemed to spin slightly.

Had something in the lab caused the fire? There were always hazardous materials around, but everyone who worked there—including David—was trained in lab safety. She couldn’t think of anything they’d been working on that could’ve caused something this damaging, but right now it was too hard to even get her thoughts straight.

And, oh gosh, David was probably dead.

Molly just closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Eventually rescue workers came through and led her out. They wrapped her in a blanket and she was now sitting in the back of an ambulance. Still dazed.

She had been questioned multiple times. What did she think had caused the explosion? What hazardous elements had been in active use in the lab? Had there been anyone else working besides herself and David?

She answered each time as best she could about the causes, but just like when she had been sitting inside, she couldn’t figure out what would have triggered an explosion of that magnitude.

And no, no one else had been there besides her and David. The young man’s death had already been confirmed.

She didn’t know what to do, who to call. It was even more chaotic and loud out here than it had been inside near the explosion. The rescue workers were all moving at a brisk pace, yelling to one another, coordinating the best they could to do their job.

Molly liked order and quiet, not the cacophony of havoc currently swirling around her. She resisted the urge to put her hands over her ears and close her eyes.

And then she saw him.

Derek was walking directly toward her, determination in his eyes. He radiated a definite purpose in his walk, because no one got in his way; instead, they stepped around him. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of her.

She wanted to jump into his arms, to beg him to take her from here. But this was Derek Waterman. Jumping into his arms wasn’t an option.

She was shocked when he put his large hands on either side of her head and tilted her head back so she was looking into his blue eyes, and found them searching her face intently.

“Are you okay?” His voice was deep, gravelly. “Injured?”

“No, I’m fine. But David Thompson, the new lab assistant, is dead, Derek.” Molly could feel herself begin to cry. To her shock, Derek pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“I know. I identified the body a few minutes ago.”

She leaned into Derek’s strength. He’d never put his arms around her in public before, but Molly didn’t question it. She needed his strength right now.

“I heard they’d found a body in the lab and I thought it was you, Molls. How did you get out?”

“I wasn’t in there when the explosion happened. I’d gone out to get something to eat.” She leaned back from his chest so she could look at him. “Like you told me to do.”

“I told you to do it hours ago.” He pulled her back against his chest. “Thank God you suck at following directions.”

Everything going on around her, all the noise and chaos, all the danger, didn’t seem quite so overwhelming against Derek’s chest. “Actually, I’m quite good at following directions,” she murmured. “I just lost track of time.”

She heard him chuckle before confirming with the paramedic that she hadn’t sustained any injuries needing further medical treatment.

“Oh, thank God!” Molly found herself ripped out of Derek’s arms and hugged against the even larger chest of Jon Hatton. “You cannot believe how glad I am to see you, Molly.”

Molly liked Jon just fine. And heaven knew he was attractive enough—six-four of solid gorgeousness—but right now she just wanted to jump out of the man’s embrace and back into Derek’s. But the moment had passed. Derek had turned to talk to Director Drackett and wasn’t even looking her way anymore.

As if it had never happened.

As usual.

“Are you okay, honey?” Jon released her from his hug, but kept one arm around her. “When we heard someone from the lab was dead...”

“David Thompson. The new tech.” Sadness filled her again. Nobody that young should die.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Jon squeezed her before letting her go. “But I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

As she stood watching the firefighters put the last of the flames out, Molly knew how lucky she’d been. And although she was heartbroken over David, she was glad it hadn’t been her, too.

Chapter Five

Derek was listening to what Steve Drackett was saying while trying to force himself not to punch Jon in the face. Seriously, the man had been his colleague and one of his closest friends for over five years, but when he had snatched Molly out of his arms and into his own...

Derek reminded himself that Jon had no romantic intentions toward Molly. And even if he did, Molly was free to date whomever she wanted. Derek had no claim on her.

But damned if he wasn’t totally relieved when Molly stepped away from Jon. Derek pretended not to pay any attention to them whatsoever as he spoke with his boss. But he knew exactly where Molly was.

Of course, he always knew where Molly was if she was anywhere in his vicinity. It was as if he had an internal radar set solely for her. Not that he could do anything but keep a watchful eye on her. Anything else wasn’t acceptable.

“Based on the preliminary report, the fire department feels like it was definitely something from the lab that detonated. Not caught on fire. Actually blew up,” Derek told Steve. “One confirmed death. Protection walls came down, so it looks like other damage and causalities are pretty minimal.”

The director nodded, then turned to Molly. “You okay?”

“Not physically hurt. But sick about David’s death.” Molly’s voice was strained. Derek had to resist the urge to wrap an arm around her again.

The one good thing about the trauma of the explosion was that it seemed to have made Molly forget to be nervous around him. At least she wasn’t stammering.

“Can you give us a report? Do you know what happened?” Steve asked her.

“We were working.” Molly shrugged one delicate shoulder. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Our caseload had heightened, so I called David and asked him to come back in. But we weren’t working with anything hazardous or explosive.”

Molly ran a hand over her face, exhausted. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was shaky. “I’m trying to figure out what it could’ve been. But I don’t think it was anything we were working on. I—” She rubbed a hand over her face again.

“Molly, it’s okay,” Jon said to her, coming to stand close to her again. “We’ll get it all worked out. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

Molly just shook her head, her hand still covering her face.

Jon looked at Derek and Steve, then tilted his head in Molly’s direction. He wanted to take her home. She obviously needed to go and really couldn’t help anything here.

But over Derek’s dead body was Jon taking Molly anywhere. Derek would take her home.

Derek walked over to Molly and touched her gently on the arm. The arm that had been covering her face dropped to her side. Her eyes seemed glassy, dazed.

“Hey.” He bent at the knees so they could be eye to eye. He tucked an errant strand of her long brown hair back behind her ear. “I’m going to take you home, okay? We’ll figure out what happened tomorrow.”

She nodded, swaying slightly toward him. Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He looked back at the guys, ignoring both of their slightly shocked expressions at how he was treating Molly.

Maybe he’d made too much of a show out of never touching her over the past couple years.

“I’m going to put her in the car and will be right back. She needs to sit down before she falls down.” Both men nodded, their gazes flickering to Molly, where she was tucked under his arm. “I’ll take her home in a minute.”

Steve stepped up to Molly. “Get some rest, okay? We’ll work out what happened later. But I have no question that you will be totally exonerated of all blame.”

Molly nodded, but didn’t say a word. Derek walked her over to his car and opened the passenger door, thankful for the balmy May night that wasn’t too hot or cold. But Molly was shivering slightly, so he grabbed a blazer he had thrown in the backseat and put it around her. He knew her reaction was from shock more than cold, but she wouldn’t know the difference.

Once he had her settled in the car, he squatted down so he could look in her eyes again. Hers were still pretty unfocused.

“Hey.” He wrapped the jacket more securely around her, then grabbed it by the lapels to bring her in a little closer. “I’m just going to finish my conversation with Steve and Jon and then I’ll take you home, okay? Five minutes.”

She nodded.

Derek kissed her forehead, then closed the door, jogging back toward Jon and Steve who were walking toward his car. Both of them were still looking at him with odd expressions.

“What?” he barked when they didn’t say anything.

“Nothing.” Jon shook his head. “Just wondering how I can call myself a behavioral analyst and miss certain facts that are right before my eyes.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jon shook his head again. “Absolutely nothing. Is Molly okay?”

Derek glanced back at his car. “Exhausted. A little shaky. Not unexpected, given the circumstances.”

“I believe her when she says that they didn’t have any flammable materials out in the lab at the explosion site. Molly’s record is impeccable when it comes to safety. Hell, when it comes to anything,” Steve stated.

“But she’s been working long hours. Was tired. Could’ve made a mistake she wouldn’t normally have.” Derek’s grim expression matched the other men’s.

The director nodded. “And if that’s the case, we’ll deal with it. I share in that responsibility.”

Jon turned and looked back at the building. “But if human error or some other accident wasn’t the cause of the explosion, then we have to think about what is.”

“What are you thinking? That it was some sort of attack against Omega?” Derek asked.

“Maybe not so much attack as sabotage,” Jon responded.

Each man processed that for a minute.

“It seems a little extreme, I know,” Jon continued.

“Until you take into consideration someone killing himself rather than being questioned, and perps burning that house to the ground today to keep evidence out of our hands,” Derek finished for him.

“Exactly.”

Derek grimaced. “Whatever we took into evidence must have been pretty important to blow up the whole damn lab for it.”

Steve had been quiet up until now. “And if this is all connected, then we also have to think about who knew we had that specific evidence here.” He shook his head.

“Nobody really knew, but us,” Derek said. “Unless you think we have some sort of mole?”

There had been moles in other divisions of Omega Sector in the past. But the Critical Response Division was not a clandestine section of Omega. They worked out in the open, not generally undercover or in the shadows. And although they didn’t talk publicly about investigations, Derek had no idea why a terrorist would keep a mole inside the Critical Response Division. Information was pretty open there.

“Not necessarily, at least not within our division,” Steve responded. “But perhaps amongst the people we’ve been reporting to every day.”

“The government committee?” Derek asked.

“Actually, I was thinking about that very fact last night, after Congressman Hougland was giving you a hard time,” Jon said. Derek wasn’t surprised to hear his friend doing what he did best as a behavioral analyst: piecing everything together.

“What did you come up with?” Steve asked.

“Like we’ve already talked about—obviously there was critical information at the location yesterday, based on the lengths the suspects were willing to go to try and keep us from getting it.”

Both Derek and Steve nodded.

“This lead was also unique because we weren’t here at Omega when you got the info, Derek. We were in the air following up on something else and switched our focus to the new lead.”

They’d been on one of the small Omega jets traveling back to Colorado from a lead in Chicago.

“Yeah, that’s true. We moved quicker on this lead than we have some of the others,” Derek agreed.

“We also didn’t follow exact protocol since we were already out. We hadn’t called in our exact location, just decided to go to Philly, and then the building, immediately, since the option was available.”

Derek was beginning to see the pattern Jon was suggesting. “Unlike every other lead we’ve investigated for the last two weeks. Where we’ve followed protocol pretty much to the letter. And all have led to nothing.”

Steve grimaced. “You’re thinking sabotage.” It wasn’t a question.

Jon shrugged. “It’s hard to believe that every single lead we’ve followed has been completely dead. Although I guess that’s possible.”

“No, I agree with Jon,” Derek told Steve. “Sometimes it felt like the people we were after were one step ahead of us. Almost ready for us.”

They’d had the normal factions attempt to take credit for the bombing, both international and domestic groups. All had been investigated and all had come to naught. Then all other aspects of the investigation—the bomb site, witnesses, the type of explosions—had also led nowhere.

Maybe everything had led nowhere because someone was deliberately running interference on the perpetrators’ behalf.

There were very few people who could have done that effectively. A dirty agent inside the Critical Response Division could, but having one there was unlikely.

And since Derek and this investigation had been under such close scrutiny by high-ranking government officials, any one of them could be responsible, too. Which was uglier, but made more sense in a lot of ways.

“Gentlemen,” Steve said. “It looks like there’s every possibility that we’ve got some high-ranking US official who is tied in with the Chicago terrorist attack.”

Jon pointed at the now-destroyed lab. “And we’re looking at the third extreme example of what that person, or people, might be willing to do to keep us from making any progress on the case.”

“Whoever it is has also put us back at square one in terms of evidence.” Derek could feel his teeth grinding, knowing they’d been so close to a real breakthrough only to lose it. “Nothing in the lab survived that explosion. It was definitely important, but now it’s gone.”

All three men looked at the smoke still rising from the building. The fire was out, but the smoke would linger for a while.

“Well, they may have successfully destroyed whatever evidence we’d gotten yesterday, but they also tipped their hand a little too far,” Jon said. “They’ve given us an edge they don’t know we have by revealing they have inside knowledge. We should use that to our advantage.”

The director nodded at both men. “I agree. I’m going to start keeping much more careful track of what information is going to which offices. The committee we report to every day hasn’t been the only ones requesting information. I’ll see what I can narrow down. And I damn sure won’t be sharing actual pertinent info about the case any longer.”

Steve turned away from the lab. “Go home, get some rest,” he continued. “Tomorrow you guys head back out to the house in West Philly, see if anything there can be salvaged. Track down where the lead came from and see if you can get any further info.”

Derek nodded. He needed to get Molly home, let her rest. But then he’d be coming right back, or at least working out of his house. Sleep could wait for him. He glanced over at Jon and knew the other man felt the same way.

“I’ll let you know when the building is open,” Steve said. “This fire is meant not only to destroy evidence, but to misdirect us. Give us a lot of other stuff to be worrying about. We’re not going to let that happen.”

“Damn right we’re not,” Jon said.

Some of the firefighters were beginning to pack up their equipment.

“I’ve got to go sign off on all this,” Drackett said, shaking his head. “I’ll see you later.”

He began walking toward the fire trucks, but then turned back. “And boys, watch your backs. If this goes as high up as I’m afraid it might, we all have targets on us.”

Derek nodded. He could feel it, too.

He got back into the car and looked over at Molly. She was sitting in the exact position as when he had left, staring straight out the windshield.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah.” She finally nodded. “I’m just trying to go over in my mind if anything we had out in the lab could’ve caused this.”

He wasn’t sure if he should tell her that it might have been a deliberate attack. “Molly, we’re looking into a lot of possibilities for what happened. But believe me, no one is assuming you’re at fault. You run a pretty tight ship in that lab.”

She seemed to relax just a little bit. “Everyone’s safety is always my first priority.”

“I know that. Everyone knows that.”

She seemed tiny inside his blazer, huddled in the seat as he drove out of the Omega parking lot and toward her house.

“You know where I live, right?” she said in a small voice.

Did he know where she lived? Was she kidding? He was guilty of driving by her condo sometimes even when it was almost the opposite direction of the way he needed to go.

And every single time he wanted to stop and knock on her door like that one night three years ago.

Knowing she wouldn’t slam the door in his face, wouldn’t tell him to go to hell, was the only thing that kept him from doing so. She was too gentle, too kind, too soft to send him away.

And he wasn’t so much of a bastard that he was willing to drag her down into the dark world he lived in. He didn’t want her touched by the ugliness of the sordid things he’d seen and done.

But damned if that wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Yeah, I know where you live.”

He could almost see the flush move up her cheeks.

“I just mean... The one time you were there you were...not your normal self. A-and I just wondered.”

“Hey.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. “You’ve gone the entire evening without being nervous around me.”

“That’s because I was upset.”

“Then stay upset, at me if you need to. No need to go back to nervous.”

She shrugged. He knew he made her nervous, made her uncomfortable.

Just like he knew the way she looked at him when she thought he couldn’t see. And he cherished it even as he tried to keep himself distant from it.

Her condo wasn’t far from Omega Headquarters and soon he pulled up and into her parking space. She was already opening her door when he came around to help her.

“I’m okay,” she said, and although her voice was soft, it wasn’t shaky. “Thanks for the ride. My purse was in the lab with my keys in it. Let me get the spare.”

He watched as she hunted around her bushes, and saw her pull it out from where she had used electrical tape to attach it to the main branch. Much better than just slipping it under a front doormat.

“Found it!” The small victory had evidently thrilled her.

“May I?” He took the key when she offered it and opened the door for her. “Do you have another set inside?”

“Yes. This is just for true emergencies.”

“Okay, I’ll put it back out for you.” He slipped it into his pocket.

She stood there in the doorway swamped in his jacket, plaster in her hair, smelling like smoke, smiling her slightly awkward smile that always seemed to be uniquely for him.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

All the lecturing he’d given himself on the drive here about not dragging her down into his darkness completely vanished.

Molly was alive and he had to taste her.

He slipped one arm around her small waist under his jacket and threaded his other hand through the hair at her scalp underneath her long brown braid. He backed her up against the door frame and brought his lips down to hers.

He heard her soft gasp of surprise and took advantage of it to slip his tongue into her mouth. A knot of need twisted inside him as he drew her closer. He felt her arms wrap around his neck as her tongue dueled with his.

His jacket falling from her shoulders and pooling at their feet brought some sense of reality back to Derek.

This could not happen. As much as he wanted it to.

He dropped both hands to her waist and took a step back. “Molly...”

She blinked up at him, arms still around his neck.

“Molly, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Why?” She leaned forward again.

Hell if he could remember why in this moment. Her lips were almost to his. If he kissed her again he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to stop. “You have plaster in your hair.”

“What?”

“Plaster. It’s all in your hair.”

Her face that had just been so flushed and soft from his kisses became shuttered. Her arms dropped to her sides, before one came up to her head to find the plaster he had mentioned. Why the hell had he said that? He didn’t care about anything being in her hair. He’d just meant that she had been through a trauma and that they shouldn’t do anything she might regret.

Or he might regret. Like break her heart.

“Oh. Yeah. I—I probably need a shower pretty badly.”

The thought of Molly in the shower had everything in Derek’s body tightening, but the slight stutter wasn’t lost on him. He hated that he’d made her uncomfortable around him again. And her eyes were wounded.

Damn it. He had to get out of here just to stop the damage he was inflicting.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine, okay?” He glanced down at his watch. “Actually, that’s only about four hours from now, so let’s make it ten. You’ll need to give an official report.”

Molly nodded and stepped inside her door. She picked up his jacket and held it out to him, wary, as if she didn’t know what to expect.

Derek didn’t blame her. He couldn’t run more hot and cold if he tried.

He took the blazer from her. “Just get some rest. It’s been a crazy day for all of us.”

He waited until she closed the door—without a word—then turned and walked back to his car.

Damn it.

Chapter Six

It’s been a crazy day for all of us.

Molly turned on the shower water to let it warm up. She slipped her lab coat off as well as her other clothes, all of which smelled like smoke, and just threw them in the bathtub so they wouldn’t contaminate her clothes in the hamper.

She glanced briefly in the mirror before stepping into her walk-in shower. Yeah, she did have some plaster in her hair.

But let’s face it, Derek could’ve had giant pieces of cement or paint or a dozen more building substances covering his entire head and Molly would’ve kept kissing him.

That was the difference between them.

Derek Waterman was out of her league and she needed to remember that. He was glad she was alive and had kissed her. But tomorrow they’d be back to their same old routine: him acting as if nothing had ever happened between them and her acting like a complete nincompoop around him.

As Molly washed the mess from the explosion off her body and out of her hair, she decided it was time to stop the silly way she’d been acting around him all this time. She was a strong, intelligent woman. She needed to act that way.

She completely ignored that she had made that promise to herself multiple times before. This time she was going to do it.

Plus, she had other things to worry about besides Derek Waterman and his kisses. She got out of the shower and dried off, slipping on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, rebraiding her hair.

The explosion in the lab. She rubbed a hand over her face as she walked downstairs to get something to eat. Even if the explosion wasn’t her fault, the workload resulting from it would be enormous. Sorting through which evidence was completely destroyed, or whether any of it could be salvaged, would be a daunting task.

Without a doubt many Omega cases would be ruined because of what had happened tonight. Crimes would go unsolved, some criminals unpunished. It was frustrating to consider.

Molly made herself a sandwich, poured herself a glass of milk and forced herself to finish both even though she didn’t want to. She was going to need her strength for tomorrow and a full stomach would help her get rest now.

All of the findings for past cases had been backed up on a server in a different building, just in case of a situation like what had happened tonight. But current cases... They would have to be sorted through individually. And almost all findings would now be ineligible in court because they had been contaminated.

Worst of all, a young man—a promising young life—had perished.

Molly got up and put her dishes in the sink and stood there for just a moment, head hanging low. How she hoped they could prove this wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know how she was going to live with herself otherwise.

For the first time Molly wished she was a drinker. That she had some sort of hard liquor in the house that she could use to help alleviate all these thoughts in her head just for tonight. Be drunk and just not care.

And maybe, just maybe, she would go show up at Derek’s house drunk. And they could have sex again. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

Who was she kidding? Like she’d ever have the guts. She’d be thrilled if she could just talk to him like a normal person tomorrow when he came to pick her up. Which was just a few hours from now. She should get some sleep because she was obviously slap happy, thinking about drinking and having sex with Derek.

She went back into her bathroom to brush her teeth and took another look at herself in the mirror. No plaster in her hair, it was all tidy in its braid. Would Derek mention their kiss when he saw her tomorrow or pretend like it never happened? Again. She was interested to find out.

Crossing into her bedroom, she stopped as she realized the door leading to her small balcony was cracked open. Molly racked her brain. Had she opened it when she first got home? Had it been open when she got into the shower earlier? It was a nice night and now that she wasn’t in shock she wasn’t feeling so cold. But she still didn’t sleep with doors open.

As she crossed to shut it, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and gasped. Someone was in the room with her.

She opened her mouth to scream when the arm of a different, second person came around her head and covered her mouth roughly.

“She saw you. Get the drug. Hurry up,” one voice whispered to the other.

Molly began to struggle as hard as she could, throwing her weight back and twisting in the arms that held her. The hand squeezed harder on her face and jerked her head to the side, exposing her neck.

She felt a sharp prick in her neck as the second man injected her with something.

Molly fought to keep her head, to not panic. Whatever they had injected her with would only work faster if she was flailing around. She couldn’t fight them both anyway.

She let her body go slack.

“That was fast. Is that how it works?” the second man asked the first.

“How the hell should I know? Let’s get her to the car. The plane will be waiting for us.” Voice number one.

Plane? Oh God, where were they taking her? Molly struggled to focus over the effect of the drug they’d given her. One man grabbed her feet and the other carried her torso as they took her downstairs, then out the back through her sliding glass door. Molly tried to make her body respond once they got outside. If she was going to try to flee, now would be the best time.

But she couldn’t make her body respond as they threw her in the backseat of their car parked right outside her gate. She watched her row of condos get smaller from the window.

She wasn’t sure how long the car had been moving, and she definitely had no idea which direction they’d been going when it stopped again. But she could see an airplane hangar and small runway. Not the Denver airport, a much smaller regional one.

Through the fog of her mind Molly figured out that this was her only chance. Once they had her on a plane she’d have no opportunity to escape. The movement would send the drug faster through her bloodstream, but she couldn’t wait. And even in the haze she could imagine the terrible things they would do to her.

The men were arguing in the front seat, about something she couldn’t begin to understand, obviously not thinking her a threat of any kind. Using all her focus, she opened the door of the car and poured herself through the opening.

She tried to stand upright to run, but the world was spinning too rapidly. In a sort of three-limbed crawl-run she moved as rapidly as she could toward the tree line surrounding the airstrip.

She couldn’t hear anything but her own breathing, sobs coming from her chest as she tried to force her body to move faster. Her vision blurred as the drug took greater affect.

For just a moment she was sure she was going to make it. Then a hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around and sending her sprawling to the ground. She felt the pin prick again, this time in her arm.

“You’re tricky.” It was the first man. The one she had seen in her apartment. “But that should do it.”

The other man, the angry one, came up next to him. “I’ll take care of this the old-fashioned way.”

Molly tried to move away from his fist flying at her, but there was nowhere to go and she couldn’t get her body to move anyway.

She felt a pain like she’d never known against her jaw, then everything went blessedly black.

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