cracking through the air, rebounding from the walls and shattering the narrow tunnel obstructing Heatherâs vision. Her heart stopped for a split second, then everything zoomed forward in a blinding rush of speed.
She slammed Jefferson into the wall with a body block. She seized his wrist and jerked his gun hand up. Davis wrenched the pistol from Jeffersonâs fingers.
âHoly shit, asshole,â he said, voice harsh. âYou wanna fuck us all?â
âNothing to worry about,â LaRousse said. âHe missed the bastard.â
Heather looked at the doorway. Dante wasnât there. In-stead, he stood in the center of the room. As she watched, he walked back to the doorway, bracing his gloved hands against either side. He looked ready to launch himself at Jefferson. Again.
Heather felt herself unknot. She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it as relief leeched her strength and left her weak-limbed.
She caught Danteâs shaded gaze, or thought she did, anyway, and shook her head. Donât move. No more stupidity. He remained braced in the doorway, body coiled. She could almost smell the adrenaline and fury that radiated from him. And testosterone. Donât forget that. With all the males in the room, the air crackled with it.
Heather turned to Jefferson. âWhat the hell were you doing?â
Jefferson met her gaze, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked down.
âProtecting his partner, Agent Wallace,â LaRousse cut in. âOr donât yâall do that in the Bureau? Here, we do whateverâs necessary.â
Heather closed her eyes for a second, then turned. LaRousse knelt beside Manning, one hand on the copâs shoulder.
âPrejean was unarmed,â she said, voice tight. âThere was no need for deadly force. And you know it.â
LaRousse snorted. Shook his head. He helped Manning to his feet.
âTake him to the emergency room,â LaRousse said to Jefferson. âAnd write a detailed report.â
âIâm fine,â Manning said, face flushed. âChrist!â
Jefferson slipped an arm around his partner and walked the protesting Manning to the doorway. Dante still stood there, hands braced. A wry smile tilted up one corner of Danteâs mouth. Lowering his hands, he stepped inside the room.
âJe va te voir plus tard,â he said to Jefferson.
All color drained from Jeffersonâs face. âI donât know none of that Cajun talk,â he stammered. Pushing Manning through the doorway, Jefferson hurried into the hall.
Heather blew loose strands of her hair from her face and glared at Dante. âYou werenât kidding about that problem with cooperation, were you?â
âHe told Jefferson heâd see him later,â LaRousse said. âSounds like a threat.â
âNo threat,â Dante said. âJust bound to happen.â
Swiveling to face LaRousse, Heather said, âPrejean is not a player. I think he needs to be placed in protective custody.â
âNo thanks,â Dante said. âAnd my name ainât Prejean.â
âShut up,â Heather said. âYouâre not helping.â
âOh, heâll be placed in protective custody, all right,â LaRousse said, a tight smile thinning his lips. âIn jail. For assaulting an officer and resisting arrest.â
âLetâs get things straight right now, LaRousse,â Heather said, stepping closer to the detective, muscles tight, hands clenched. â Iâm in charge of this investigationââ
LaRousse leaned in and met her head-on. âThatâs where youâre wrong, Agent Wallace,â he said. âYouâre not in charge. Youâre consulting . Hell, you havenât told us whether or not the damned Cross-Country Killer is even here.â
LaRousseâs words hit Heather like an open-handed slap. Her cheeks burned, but she didnât look away or back down. Her
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley