Chapter 4

"You're not concerned for your own safety?" Aaron stared at the woman whose protection he was now responsible for.

She didn't seem fazed in the slightest that a serial killer who'd threatened her life and murdered her family was possibly on the loose.

"No." She looked at him over her shoulder. "It'll give me the chance to kill the bastard—in self-defense, of course," she added dryly.

"Hopefully, it won't come to that," said Lincoln Frazer.

"Spoilsport." Her eyes flashed like liquid silver.

Hope Harper was not what Aaron Nash had expected. Not at all.

He'd expected hard. He'd expected cold. He'd expected bitter. He hadn't expected the fiery intellect or hostile personality, nor the elegant, blonde outer perfection. Her words were chilling though when it came to her security. She showed no fear. No sense of self preservation. It sounded like she wanted to go a few rounds with the serial killer.

And maybe he couldn't really blame her for that.

"Do you have specialized combat training that I am unaware of?" He kept his voice firm, suspecting she'd scent and exploit weakness like a fox scented and exploited a rabbit.

Her eyes narrowed. "I have the fury of a woman whose child and husband were cold-bloodedly murdered by that sonofabitch."

Emotion vibrated through the words, but he ignored it. His job was tactical, not emotional. It ran on logic and preparation. And maybe it ran a little on luck, but he wasn't about to admit that to a principal who was this antagonistic. He needed to gain her trust and her confidence if they were to work together effectively.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "that isn't enough."

Something flickered in those icy depths before she looked away. "It's all I have left."

"Not true, counselor." Lincoln Fraser produced a wide smile that showed he didn't mind a little danger. "You also have the protection of the FBI."

"Whether I like it or not." The glimpse of vulnerability was gone, replaced by bitterness.

Aaron couldn't blame her for her anger, but her attitude could make his job more difficult and put his teammates at risk. He wouldn't stand for the latter. Their jobs were dangerous enough without a principal with a death wish.

Kincaid came out from the ground floor apartment. "Clear."

Livingstone came to the top of the stairs and shouted down. "Clear."

With a roll of her eyes, Hope Harper picked up her briefcase and hauled it up the stairs. Aaron stepped in front of ASAC Frazer to the obvious annoyance of the other man, but Harper was Aaron's responsibility, not Frazer's. Aaron stuck close enough to smell the faint trace of perfume, something sweet like vanilla, completely at odds with the woman herself.

She glanced behind her. "Surely Leech hasn't had time to get to Boston already?"

Aaron answered before Frazer could. It was important he develop a working relationship with this woman, regardless of her personal feelings, or his. "Depends on whether or not it was a planned escape and what sort of transportation was available to him."

"Assuming he's not at the bottom of the river."

"Assuming that," Aaron conceded.

"What about Judge Abbotsford or the jurors and any of the other people who testified against him?"

"We have another HRT team on the judge. She's at her farm in the country and is cooperating fully." He had no idea if she was or not. "US Marshal Service is informing the jurors and providing security for anyone who wants it. We'd appreciate a list of prosecution witnesses from the trial to make sure we contact everyone. We figure you can supply that faster than us going through official channels."

She met his gaze for a moment, eyes gray as the moon, surrounded by thick dark lashes, at odds with the blonde hair. "Of course."

She turned away again, and he followed her up an oak staircase that had dark wooden paneling along the wall, a plush red runner up its center.

The front door of her apartment was more solid wood with a sturdy lock. From there, up another few steps into the living room where Livingstone, Griffin, Hopper, and Cadell stood waiting.

The apartment had gleaming hardwood floors covered with several large rugs and over-sized pale gray sofas. A comfortable-looking, burgundy leather chair with matching ottoman sat beside a side-table stacked with folders. It looked as if it got a lot of use. The sash windows were large and uncovered. Snipers Damien Crow and JJ Hersh inched past him now to check out the roof and fire escape in terms of vantage points and weaknesses. The fire escape ran down the side of the building with the railings clearly visible through the windows, providing easy access for any would-be attacker. The other two snipers assigned to Echo squad had parked the vehicles and were investigating surrounding buildings for better overwatch positions, but Aaron figured they'd set up on the roof here for now.

Harper dumped her bag on the table beside the sofa. A white cat wound through her legs, meowing loudly. She picked up the cat and stroked its fur.

After a moment, the cat jumped down and ran into the kitchen.

Harper slipped out of her coat and tossed it on the back of the couch. Aaron couldn't help but admire the slim figure in form-fitting gray pants and a cream sweater.

There wasn't a lot of color around here, he noticed. Not that the apartment, or woman herself, was unattractive or unpleasant, but the atmosphere was cool professional rather than cozy. And maybe that was intentional too.

Except for that old burgundy chair…

"See." She threw her hands wide. "No serial killer lurking behind the doors. You can leave now."

"You know that's not going to happen, Hope," Frazer admonished.

"Why not?" Hope Harper was not the pushover Aaron would have wished for. "Leech isn't some highly trained superman or brilliant marksman. Seven years ago, he was nothing but a weedy nerd who got close to people because he looked harmless. I doubt he beefed up in prison." She snorted then headed into the kitchen.

Aaron bristled as he followed. Seven years ago, he'd been a weedy nerd too. He'd beefed up plenty in the intervening years.

"Seven years in prison is a long time. Best not to underestimate him, especially when he's highly motivated and suspected of killing eight people we know of." He tried to soften the bite in his tone but knew he'd failed when both Harper and Frazer frowned at him.

"Stick a couple of guys out front in an unmarked car." She sneered. "I'm sure he'll take one look at the big scary men with guns and scuttle away like the cockroach he is."

The fact she discounted and disregarded their expertise so easily pissed him off.

"And if he doesn't? If the X-ray vision of the two big scary men with guns in the car out front fails and Leech manages to gain access through the back garden or the fire escape? What then?"

"I have a gun in my bedroom."

He stepped in front of her, forced her to look at him. He reached out and gripped her arm loosely to make a point.

"What if he's right here in your house, when you get home from work? What if he grabs you before you can reach the gun that's up in your bedroom? Worse, what if he finds it first?"

She grabbed a kitchen knife off the magnetic strip on the wall. Held it against his Kevlar vest as they stared at one another. One hard kick of his heart betrayed his training before the organ settled into its familiar rhythm.

Temper spiked in her eyes while he kept his cool. Her pulse fluttered beneath the delicate skin of her throat. Her chest rose and nostrils flared as she inhaled rapidly before holding her breath.

He disarmed her gently, careful not to hurt her, and put the knife back on the wall. "What if he gets here first, Hope? What if he's the one with the knife?"

"Then I'll knee him in the balls and scratch out his eyes." Her eyes blazed.

"You won't have to," Aaron told her. "Because we'll be here, or you'll be in protective custody. Perhaps that would be the better option." He looked at Frazer questioningly.

Harper reached up for a can of cat food and opened it. Her hand was shaking. She scraped the food angrily into a clean bowl and placed it on the floor for the clearly starving animal.

Frazer stepped in, perhaps sensing Aaron was losing his patience and she'd definitely had enough of him. "We could really use your help with this one, Hope. If Leech did escape, we need to recapture him as quickly as possible before he hurts anyone. You can help us with that."

She rinsed the can and tossed it in the recycle bin. Put the fork in the dishwasher. Aaron could almost see her mentally counting to ten.

She dried her hands and walked away through the door at the other end of the compact room back into the living room.

They both followed.

Hands in pockets, Frazer examined the artwork on the walls and then strolled over to pick up a framed photo of a dark-haired man and a young girl with long fair hair and a wide smile.

Hope Harper stood with her arms crossed, watching him carefully. "You know him as well as I do, Linc."

"That's not true."

"Well, I fail to see how having bodyguards equates with whether or not I'll help you track him down. Of course, I'll help catch that sonofabitch. Putting him back in prison for the rest of his miserable life would be my absolute pleasure, but it doesn't mean I need protection."

"Do you think he'll come after you, ADA Harper?" Aaron asked calmly.

She shrugged before going over to reposition the photo Frazer had touched. "Any normal deviant billionaire would head straight across the border and find themselves a nice little anonymous hole to hide in." She stroked a finger down the face of the young girl and Aaron hardened his heart against the anguish that crossed her features. "But Leech isn't normal."

"Does he still write to you?" asked Frazer.

She stared toward the profiler and tilted up her chin. "Every week."

"And you read them?" Aaron asked.

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "I take great delight in making sure the warden allows them to be mailed to me and then I have my intern shred them before they even reach my desk." Fatigue tightened the outer corners of her eyes. "I like to know he's wasting his time, screaming into the void like the worthless sack of shit he is."

"Do you believe he'll come after you?" Aaron pushed again.

"Yes," Harper snapped. "But I don't care."

The statement was raw and honest and completely shocking.

Frazer looked unsurprised. Maybe he already knew how the prosecutor felt.

"We care, ma'am. You will have the protection of the Hostage Rescue Team—whether you like it or not. That motherfucker will not have the satisfaction of hurting you any more than he has already."

The line of her throat rippled as she swallowed and looked away. "It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice, does it?"

"Not really," he and Frazer said together.

"Fine. But I do not want to be tripping over FBI agents every time I turn around. You can't stay in my apartment."

"We're operators, not agents," Aaron corrected her this time. "And most of us can sleep outside the apartment to give you the privacy you need." He'd slept in worse places than the hallway of an eighteenth-century row house.

"Define ‘most'?"

He grinned. "You won't even know we're here."

Her arms remained crossed, a flimsy barrier. "Fine. You can stay tonight but only because I'm too tired to argue."

Aaron was amused she deluded herself into thinking she had a choice, although she could make their time together a living hell.

Something to look forward to.

"I'm going to talk to my boss about this in the morning."

He nodded as if he was conceding the point. The AG had ordered this. Until his own boss told him otherwise, Echo squad was Hope Harper's shadow and shield.

"We are going to need these windows covered tonight." He pointed at the beautiful wide sash windows. "Any objections to covering the glass with trash bags?"

"Actually yes. Lots of objections. I have blinds I've been too lazy to hang, so knock yourselves out." She nodded to an inner door. "In there. Tools too. Make sure they're straight."

If she wanted to bust their balls, she'd have to work much harder than that. People who could take out a target at a mile could hang a goddamned blind. He caught Ryan Sullivan's and Hunt Kincaid's gazes. Gave them the nod to get started.

"Perhaps we could contact your neighbors and see if they'll rent their place to the FBI for a few days. Then we can set up and rest there, but still be close enough to react if necessary." They could split the team into two groups, with him straddling the two rotations and resting when time allowed. Billet a pair of operators on the roof, one on the front door. One in the transport and one just outside the apartment door.

She shot him a glance. "You think this is only going to take a few days?"

"Every law enforcement office in the contiguous United States will be on the lookout for these escaped prisoners, assuming we don't find their bodies in that river."

"I want to see the report on what they find down there," she instructed Frazer.

Frazer nodded. "Perhaps you could give us that list of witnesses from the Leech case?"

She went over to an antique bureau and opened it to reveal a printer. She caught Aaron's look of surprise that such a beautiful antique hid something so mundane.

"I often work late at night and don't always want to be upstairs in my office."

"Convenient."

She looked annoyed by his observation and turned her back to him as she pulled her laptop from her briefcase. She sat on the arm of the couch and began searching for a file.

"Do you want a bed for the night, Linc?" she offered Frazer casually.

Aaron couldn't explain the tightening in his gut. Were they lovers? He knew Frazer had a partner back in Quantico, but maybe she didn't. Or maybe neither of them cared.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I plan to stay with another old friend tonight. Marshall Hayes and his wife, Josie."

"Give them my regards," drawled Cowboy, who was standing on top of a stepladder holding a drill and one end of an off-white blind. Kincaid had the other end and held a spirit level along the top. "I'll drop by if I get a chance before this is over. Kids can visit with their favorite uncle."

"I'll let them know," Frazer agreed.

How the hell did Ryan know the famed head of the FBI's Forgeries and Fine Art Division well enough that the kids called him freaking "Uncle"? Aaron had no clue but would grill the guy later.

"And give my regards to Izzy while you're at it." Hope Harper gave her first genuine smile, and it was unexpectedly soft. "I'm expecting a wedding invite one of these days."

"I think we're more likely to elope than do the big white wedding thing, especially as I've trodden that path before."

"So, you asked her then?"

"Not yet," Frazer admitted.

"Better not count your chickens. Izzy's a smart cookie."

"That she is. That she is. And she could do a lot better than a man like me." But his smile was confident.

She did know Frazer was off the market. Aaron relaxed marginally. Not that it was any of his business, but things could get messy, and he didn't like messy, and he didn't like cheats.

He really didn't like cheats.

"Izzy could find a man who doesn't go off chasing serial killers at a moment's notice."

"We all have our calling, Hope. You know that better than most." Frazer sounded tired.

"Just be careful. Keep her safe."

The tension in the room throbbed with unspoken pain.

But Hope ignored it—maybe she was immune to it now—and retrieved the information they'd requested from the printer. Handed one list to Frazer and held onto the other in a power play move that had Aaron cocking a brow.

She saw his reaction and the edge of her mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. She walked over, handed him the sheet of paper. "Make sure those witnesses are protected, Operator Nash. I don't need any more dead people on my conscience."

He nodded.

Her eyes narrowed in dismay when Cowboy started drilling.

Frazer immediately headed down the stairs to the front door, and Hope followed him out. Aaron brought up the rear, filing past the guys who stood in the downstairs hallway who quieted at their arrival.

Hope went to open the front door onto the street, but Aaron stepped in front of her. "Wait a moment."

She threw her hand up in annoyance as he spoke to the team member who was watching the front entrance from an unmarked car they'd borrowed from the Boston FBI field office.

"Clear?"

"All clear out front. Couple walking their dog in the park but no one else on the street."

"Roger that."

"Thanks for these." Frazer lifted the papers and opened the door while Aaron blocked any view of Hope from the street. "I'll talk to you first thing tomorrow. Hopefully, it'll all be over by then."

"I have court at ten." She raised her voice from behind his shoulder.

"Have a good night." Frazer shot Aaron a grin and slipped outside.

Aaron closed the door and secured it.

Hope narrowed her gaze at him and turned to survey the rest of the HRT team who all straightened.

She pulled out her cell and made a call.

Had she changed her mind despite all of their concessions? Planned to go above his head? Anger had him clenching his jaw.

"Don't panic, Larry. Everything's fine with the apartment. No, don't worry." Harper laughed, and Aaron watched the expressions move over her features like clouds shifting across a stormy sky. "I'm calling to ask a massive favor. I have some friends who arrived unexpectedly from out of town—yes, I know it's a surprise to hear I have friends."

She listened for a moment and sent Aaron a wry look to say she knew he was paying attention, and she didn't like it.

"Yes, I am aware how incredibly antisocial I am, but these people wouldn't say no. Some sort of intervention apparently." She listened again. "Well, I'm hoping this visit scares them off for good. My main problem is, I don't have quite enough space for them to all have their own rooms in my place and wondered if you would mind if they slept at yours for a couple of nights. I promise to return the favor sometime, and you can throw a party on the rooftop whenever you'd like." She listened carefully, giving the other person the chance to object.

Aaron admired the fact she didn't railroad the neighbors because he knew she was more than capable of doing so.

"Thanks. I'll change and wash the sheets, and you won't even know anyone has been there in your absence. I personally guarantee it." She smiled but her eyes were harder now. "You're both sanity savers. How's the cruise?"

She made small talk, but Aaron knew they were in. They had somewhere to set up that would help this op run smoothly. He went over to the rest of the team, and they huddled close.

"For now, we're going to split into two teams, with one on the principal at all times. Livingstone, Griffin, Cadell, Crow, and Hersh are alpha, Livingstone takes the lead in my absence. Alpha will take a seven p.m. to seven a.m. shift. Second team is omega, Cowboy is lead if I'm not around. We can billet in this apartment until the switchover. I'll overarch as needed. Get set up, and then get some rest."

Hope went to enter the apartment, but Livingstone put his arm out to stop her. "We can change the sheets, ma'am."

"I want to see what state it is in so I can make sure it's spotless for when they return."

"No need," Aaron stated. "We will make sure everything is left exactly as found if not better."

She opened her mouth to argue.

"Pretty sure HRT operators are capable of tracking down fresh sheets and using a washing machine. I will personally pay for any damage, not that there'll be any."

She huffed out an annoyed breath. "Fine."

It sounded like a curse.

She headed for the stairs, and this time Aaron let her go alone. She was safe enough. "Get the gear dropped off here and then someone go pick up enough food to supply dinner and breakfast. We'll set up surveillance devices overnight while the principal is sleeping. Cadell will take street duty this shift, but we'll rotate that to keep everyone sharp."

"She really get a killer off and then he went and murdered her husband and kid?" asked Seth Hopper, who still sported a tan from his recent adventures in the Arizona desert.

Aaron nodded. "Let's see if Novak can send us case files or background info. The more we know about Julius Leech the more likely we are to understand any moves he might make."

"Fucking serial killers," Livingstone muttered.

"Fucking defense attorneys," Cadell sneered.

"She's an ADA now with an impressive track record. Gave up a partnership in one of the biggest firms in the city to become a prosecutor."

"Guilty conscience." Cadell rubbed his jaw.

No one would argue with that.

"She paid a terrible price." Seth rested his hands on his carbine.

"Surely Leech isn't likely to head back to the scene of the crime to take a crack at a woman he's already hurt in the worst possible way," Griffin put in. "I'm sure a psycho like Leech would be happy at the thought of ADA Harper living a long life knowing their deaths are on her conscience."

"Plenty of people wouldn't mind having a dig at this particular attorney on both sides of the courtroom, not to mention the cops," said Livingstone.

"Why do they bury lawyers twelve feet under instead of six?" Cadell muttered. "Because deep down, they're good people."

"Look. Who our principal is and what you think of her is irrelevant." Aaron raised his voice enough to get his teammates' attention. "Our orders are to protect ADA Harper like she's our sainted mother. We protect her whether we like her or not. We protect her whether the risk is high or low. No one is getting past us. While she's under our protection, we will treat every situation as a high-risk security operation. If nothing else, it'll be good practice for the FNGs."

Griffin and Kincaid.

They were experienced FBI agents but newbie operators.

The slam of the door upstairs made Aaron realize with a sinking heart that Hope Harper had been eavesdropping on their conversation. Fuck.

"Omega get some rest, and don't leave a fucking scratch on anything in that goddamned apartment. In fact, Griffin, take photos now, before you move in. Livingstone, order takeout and save some for me because I am fucking starving. I'll stay with the principal while everyone else takes turns to eat. Let's prove we're responsible adults and not the meatheads ADA Harper obviously thinks we are."