Night Sins by Tami Hoag

strangers. He slid into the chair and ran his hands over his books, stroking them as if they were beloved pets.
    He didn't like cops. He didn't like questions. He wanted only to be left alone.
Mind your own business, Leslie.
Olie wished other people would take that advice.
             
    I didn't appreciate the little gaff hook gag,” Megan snapped. Walking beside Mitch, she nearly broke into a jog to keep up with him. Their footfalls against the concrete floor echoed through the cavernous building. Lights shined down on the sheet of smooth white ice. The bleachers that climbed the walls were cloaked in heavy, silent shadows, a cold, empty theater.
    “Pardon me,” Mitch said sardonically, gladly picking up the hostilities where they had left off. “I'm used to working alone. My manners may need a little polish.”
    “This doesn't have anything to do with manners. It has to do with professional courtesy.”
    “Professional courtesy?” He arched a brow. “Seems a foreign concept to you, Agent O'Malley. I don't think you'd recognize it if it bit your tight little behind.”
    “You cut me off—”
    “Cut you off? I should have thrown you out.”
    “You undermined my authority—”
    Something hot and red burst behind Mitch's eyes. The flames burned through his control for the first time in a very long time. He wheeled on Megan without warning, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pinned her up against the Plexiglas that rose above the hockey boards.
    “This is
my
town,
Agent
O'Malley,” he snarled, his face an inch from hers. “You don't have any authority. You are here to
assist upon request
. You may have degrees out the wazoo, but apparently you were in the ladies' room when they gave that particular lecture at the bureau.”
    She stared up at him, her eyes impossibly huge, her mouth a soft, round O. He had meant to frighten her, shock her. Mission accomplished. Her heavy coat hung open, and Mitch could almost see her heart racing beneath her evergreen turtleneck.
    Fascinated, he let his gaze slide downward. With her shoulders pinned back, her chest was thrust forward and her breasts commanded his attention. They were small round globes, and even as he stared at them, the nipples budded faintly beneath the fabric of the sweater. The heat within him altered states, from flames of indignation to something less civilized, something primal. His intent had been to establish professional dominance, but in the heat the motivation melted and shifted, sliding down from the logical corners of his mind to a part of him that had no use for logic.
    Slowly he dragged his gaze up to the small chin that jutted out defiantly. Up to the mouth that quivered slightly, betraying her show of bravado. Up to the eyes as deep and rich a green as velvet, with lashes short and thick, as black as night.
    “I never had this kind of trouble with Leo,” he muttered. “But then, I never wanted to kiss Leo.”
    Megan knew better than to let him. She knew every argument against it by heart—had repeated them over and over in her mind tonight like chants to ward off evil spirits.
It's stupid. It's dangerous. It's bad business. . . .
Even as they trailed across her brain she was lifting her chin, snatching a breath. . . .
    She flattened her hands and shoved at him, succeeding only in breaking Mitch's concentration. He pulled his head back an inch and blinked, his head clearing slowly. He had lost control. The thought was like a bell ringing between his ears. He didn't lose control.
Contain the rage. Control the mind. Control the needs.
Those dictates had gotten him through two long years, and in the time it took to draw a breath Megan O'Malley had driven him to the verge of breaking them.
    They stared at each other, wary, waiting, breath held in the cool of the dark arena.
    “I'm going to pretend that didn't happen,” Megan announced without any of the authority or righteous indignation she had intended. The announcement came out sounding