Chapter 22

Aaron stared at the image on Hope's cell phone screen, and even though he wanted to go after her and make sure she was okay, first he needed to attempt to trace the call.

He contacted Frazer. "Someone sent Hope a photo of the latest crime scene."

Frazer swore. "I'll call Parker. I'm almost there, but maybe he can get a trace started."

"Don't bother. I just realized it was sent from Sylvie Pomerol's number."

"He must have sent a delayed message. Given himself time to get away. I'll call Parker anyway. We should put a trap 'n trace on Hope's communications if she agrees. Leech might contact her again now he has her personal cell number. I need to get a copy of the information on Sylvie's phone and her husband's because Leech had access to that too." Frazer swore again. "I don't understand how he's been able to evade authorities for so long."

"Me neither."

"Is Hope all right?"

Aaron heard the toilet flush. "I'll let you know when she stops throwing up."

"Take care of her, Aaron. She's suffered enough. I don't want her to have to go through all this again."

"Affirmative."

She came out of the washroom as he hung up.

"You okay?"

She shook her head. Her cheeks were chalk white. Lips bloodless. "I don't understand. I really don't understand how someone like Sylvie was caught off guard. She was such a careful person. Was it definitely Leech and not some copycat?"

"I don't know any more than you do, Hope. Frazer is five minutes away. Do you want some herbal tea or a glass of wine before he gets here?"

Her eyes looked lost as she hugged herself. "My heart wants wine, but my stomach says tea. There's some chamomile in the cupboard."

He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. When Lucifer wound his way between Aaron's legs, he grabbed a can of food and scraped it into the cat's empty dish.

He checked the oven and turned down the amazing smelling casserole that was starting to bubble.

A knock on the door had Ryan Sullivan, Hunt Kincaid, and Seth Hopper stepping inside and making their way upstairs, carrying bags of gear along with the damned camp bed.

Hope forced a smile from where she sat on the couch with her knees drawn up under her. "Top floor has two rooms and three beds. Help yourselves to sheets and towels from the linen closet."

You'd never know that minutes before she'd been throwing up in the toilet except maybe for the fact her eyes were a little red.

She powered through it. Carried on. Ignored the pain or hoped no one noticed.

She thought of herself as unsociable, but Aaron didn't think that was necessarily true. She kept herself isolated, but not because she didn't like people. Any idiot could see once you got past that prickly outer layer, she liked people just fine. Maybe she needed mental space—he could relate. Or maybe she was still punishing herself for her perceived mistakes.

"Thanks for this, Hope," Ryan said. "I, for one, appreciate it. Don't worry, you won't even know we're here. Stealth is our middle names. We'll set you up, Nash." He waved the camp pillow at him and grinned.

The joys of being in charge. Aaron got the freaking camp bed again.

Still, having his own space for a couple of hours would help get his brain on straight. No doubt he was attracted to his principal. Worse, she'd noticed, which made him feel like the lowest form of plankton. Even though he'd never do anything unprofessional or act on that attraction, he didn't want Hope to feel wary around him. He was better than that. She deserved better than that.

And no way in hell did he want his teammates to suspect anything was up with him. Being trusted to be in charge, to lead this elite group of men, was a privilege. One he did not intend to fuck up.

"That was generous of you," he said as the guys headed upstairs. "Offering us your spare rooms."

"Oh, please. They're there. May as well get some use. I'm sorry I held out for so long. I was a bitch when you arrived even if you did steamroll over my objections."

He crossed his arms and noticed her gray eyes flicked over his bunched biceps.

Put it away, Aaron.

"I guess we both like being able to get on with our jobs."

Her smile was strained. "I guess. I feel bad that I made it harder for you and your men at the start."

"We were strangers who gave you bad news and invaded your life. Your reaction surprised me because I thought you'd be more scared of Leech. I wish you were."

"Put the two of us, weaponless, in a room together, and I don't mind my odds, which is probably not what you or the world wants to hear."

"The world?" He certainly didn't want to hear it.

"They want me to be the weak, weeping woman, and while I seem to have the weeping part down, I still want to beat Leech to death with my bare hands." Her color was back. "I should have let Brendan do it on my front lawn all those years ago. I'd have gotten him off with a temporary insanity plea."

"Immediately after the murders?"

"Yeah. Paramedics were still working on—" Her voice hitched and stumbled. "They were trying to save Danny. Paige was already gone. I just hadn't accepted it then."

Rather than distracting her, he'd reminded her of the worst day of her life—again. The kettle boiled, and he headed into the kitchen, poured the tea and let it steep—giving them both the chance to regain their composure. He added a little cold water to the mug from the tap and tossed out the tea bag. He walked back through and saw her standing in front of the family photograph.

He held the mug out. "Careful, it's hot."

Their gazes collided as their fingertips brushed. Her pupils widened, and his breath locked in his chest. He stepped away. Moved to the window to ease the blind aside and check the street outside.

Hope wouldn't look at him twice under normal circumstances, but these were far from normal. She wasn't out of his league, she wasn't even playing the game. He recognized damaged when he saw it, and who the hell was he to think he could in some way make her feel better? No one could fix what she'd been through.

No one.

Especially not him.

Last time he'd lost his head over a woman, he'd been devastated when it hadn't worked out. He'd always feared his brilliant former fiancée had been too good for him, and he'd been proven right in the end.

Hope was staring at that beloved photograph again. He knew true love when it socked him in the face. What he saw on hers was deep and abiding. And he was done playing second fiddle to anyone, even a dead guy.

And didn't that make him feel like a selfish prick?

But he couldn't afford to develop feelings for Hope. She was his principal, nothing more. He was allowed to like the person he guarded. She was allowed to like him. They weren't allowed to lust.

Not at work. Not on an op.

Focus and objectivity made him a damned good operator. He refused to be less than his best. Not to mention her life was in danger. She might not take the threat of Leech seriously, but the man had murdered at least ten people. Aaron wasn't about to underestimate him.

The silence grew taut.

Thankfully, Frazer arrived and rescued him from the sudden awkwardness.

The profiler sent them a grim look. "Where's the phone?"

Hope nodded toward the table where she'd left it.

Frazer went over and studied the image. "I want permission to set up a trap 'n trace on your number and email accounts in case Leech tries to get in touch again."

"Assuming it was Leech."

"It was Leech."

"How do you know? It could have been a copycat."

"Because scrawled across the bathroom mirror in lipstick was ‘I have feelings, Dr. P.' and I doubt a copycat would feel quite so personally attacked by what Sylvie said during his trial."

Aaron watched Hope draw in a long breath, and realized she was about to argue.

"I can't let you have full access to my phone and email. What about witnesses who try to get in touch with me or confidential conversations?" She shook her head.

"Hope, we are trying to protect you." Aaron gritted his teeth. "You might not care if you live or die, but other people do."

"I never said I didn't care?—"

"Close enough."

Frazer broke in. "Do you want us to sign an NDA? I can do that. Your data won't be seen by anyone outside of the BAU except for the consultant I use—who is better at keeping secrets than anyone I know. None of us have any desire to spy on you, Hope, nor to re-traumatize victims or sabotage cases."

"It has to be with the understanding you don't read anything unless you think it's from Leech. And no accessing information prior to today. And nothing regarding current cases?—"

"We don't want to snoop, and we're on the same side now, remember?" Frazer dragged his hand through his hair looking more agitated than Aaron had ever seen him. "I don't want to find you the way I found Sylvie Pomerol this afternoon. She was confident she could deal with the threat of Leech too. She was wrong."

Hope hunched her shoulders. "Fine. But whoever you trust with this better be reliable."

"I trust them with my life and honor."

"Well, then," she sniffed. "If your honor is involved, they must be really good."

Aaron smirked.

The woman was a bulldozer, but at least she had a sense of humor.

Frazer texted someone, presumably Parker, to set up the monitoring of Hope's communications. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Is that food I smell?"

Hope nodded. "You can have it."

Frazer shrugged out of his coat. "I haven't eaten all day."

Aaron moved into the center of the room and addressed Hope. "You need to eat something."

She banded her arms over her stomach. "I can't think about anything except getting that bastard behind bars again."

"The only person who wins by you not eating is Leech. You need to keep up your strength for that hand-to-hand combat I have no intention of letting happen."

Her lips twitched which made him absurdly pleased with himself.

"Not eating weakens you. Eat, even if it is simply as a source of fuel rather than something that smells excellent."

His own stomach rumbled. Frazer came through with three steaming bowls and placed them on the table. "Where are the spoons?"

"I better leave you two to it. I can grab some pizza downstairs." Aaron did not want pizza. Not when the smell of fine French cuisine made him drool, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome.

Hope caught his arm. "Stay. Please. There's plenty, and I know you want to discuss the case with Frazer. We may as well do that while fueling up."

Aaron nodded slowly. "I could eat."

He caught Frazer's interested expression but ignored the man.

She released him. Rolled her eyes. "I'll get the spoons that the world-famous profiler couldn't track down."

"Bring some bread if you have any."

"Yessir."

Aaron walked over and sat opposite Frazer as Hope brought out three spoons and a loaf of sliced bread.

"Tell us what you found," Hope ordered.

Frazer shook his head. "Afterwards."

"What did the marshals say?"

Frazer blew on his spoon. "That I had no right contaminating their crime scene."

"They wouldn't even know there was a crime scene without you," said Aaron.

"And the FBI will be taking back said crime scene shortly as the marshals have other priorities, but they wanted to flex their muscles first." He rolled his eyes.

"Who did you piss off in the marshal service?" asked Hope.

Frazer smacked his lips together.

The food was delicious and made Aaron's stomach growl in appreciation.

"I believe it stems back to an incident after the mall attack in Minneapolis now you mention it."

Aaron remembered. "Couple of marshals died at a safe house."

Frazer nodded. "They were good agents, but I had a few things to say about USMS protocols in general, and one of the people who possibly overheard me say those things might have been Joshua Hague."

"POTUS?" Aaron exclaimed.

"Possibly overheard?" Hope snorted.

"It wasn't deliberate."

"Oh, please. Save it. You're not above a little manipulation, and we all know it."

Frazer had the grace to shrug. "Perhaps. But combined with one of my agents taking off with two of the marshals' protectees, BAU-4 hasn't exactly been the USMS's best bud this last year or so."

"How did Leech track Sylvie down?"

"I don't know," Frazer confessed. "I asked Alex Parker to see if he can figure it out."

"The same person who you want to set up a trap 'n trace?" asked Hope.

Frazer nodded.

"Sounds like he does more work for the FBI than most FBI agents. Why don't you just hire him?"

"The FBI can't afford him."

"Maybe Sylvie Pomerol shared her address with a friend or a colleague who wasn't as careful?" asked Aaron. "You two both had it?"

Hope nodded. So did Frazer.

"Perhaps she wasn't as good at hiding her location as she thought."

"Other people are usually the weakest link, and he had the resources to track it down years ago. And now Leech potentially has everyone in Sylvie's contact list." Frazer sounded pissed.

"Including this address?" Aaron did not like the sound of that.

"I doubt it. I always give out my work address as a contact." Hope played with a piece of chicken. "But considering the press already quoted me as living in a ‘grand apartment overlooking Bunker Hill Monument,' I don't think I'm hard to find. Plus, his assistant could have easily followed me home one day or hired someone to do it. Or hacked the utility company. Maybe that's what happened with Sylvie. Have you questioned Blake Delaware yet?"

"I have not. I assume the marshals have in connection to Leech's current whereabouts, but as we already discussed the marshals aren't sharing with me."

"Is there anything to stop me going over there right now and asking Delaware a few questions?" Hope's eyes glittered.

"Aside from eleven highly trained HRT operators?" asked Frazer.

Her jaw visibly clenched.

Aaron shot Frazer a look. "If you want to go over there, we can notify the team for an after-hours trip. No guarantee the guy will see you or is even there, but we are game. We'll take you wherever you want to go. You aren't a prisoner. You know that."

The fight went out of her as he'd hoped it would and she sagged a little in her chair. "I just want to know people are doing their jobs—especially the marshals."

"Leech getting out means this assistant might have to actually do some work—and risk going to prison himself if he's caught aiding and abetting a fugitive." Aaron finished his bowl of food.

"Assuming the escape wasn't planned, and the accident scene suggests it was simply that, an accident, then Blake Delaware would have been as surprised as we were at his boss suddenly being free. That doesn't mean they were unprepared." Frazer glanced at his watch. "I don't know what the marshals are doing, but I have people searching for any property Leech or Delaware or any of their companies purchased or own or rent. Mind if I have seconds?" Frazer rose to his feet.

"Go ahead."

Aaron watched Hope nibble on her food. When she caught him, she pulled a face. "I'm trying."

He nodded. "I know you are."

"Maybe you can teach me some hand-to-hand combat moves." That came out of nowhere.

From any other woman it might have sounded like a come on.

Not from Hope though.

Aaron cleared his throat. "I can teach you some basic self-defense. I can get a couple of the guys, and we can play out several scenarios in the evening or on the weekend."

Hope's brows furrowed. "I'd like that. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I could be a black belt by now."

"Perhaps because Leech was incarcerated?" Aaron suggested lightly.

"Still."

Frazer came back with another brimming bowl, his expression suspiciously blank. "I think that sounds very sensible, Hope. Aaron was top of his class out of the academy."

"You looked me up?" Aaron asked in surprise.

"I like to keep my eye on promising new graduates. I thought you'd apply for the BAU for sure."

"Saving that for when I can't keep up with the rest of HRT." Which would be a cold day in hell.

Frazer shot him an amused look. "Perhaps you can join us with our walkers in a few years' time, assuming we have any vacancies."

"I don't like the idea of sitting at a desk all day." And hated the idea of being pigeonholed as an intellectual.

"It keeps getting better and better." Frazer rolled his eyes as he dug into his second bowl. "I'm surprised I can climb the stairs. We do get out of the office sometimes as you might have noticed. I even work out on occasion, although I'm not as ripped as you gym rats from HRT."

"Well. Feel free to compare six-pack abs." Hope batted her eyelashes.

Aaron grinned, and Frazer laughed.

Hope put on more coffee.

Aaron figured she'd be better off having a nightcap and hitting the sheets. If he said that to her, she'd probably have two cups and stay up until midnight. He was definitely getting a handle on her personality and figuring out her contrary nature. For some reason, that realization made him sad. Probably because he'd leave soon and none of it would matter anymore—all the more reason not to get involved.