She set her suitcase on the bed and reorganized everything, trying to press out some of the wrinkles. Then she reached for the stack of files below the clothes and started reading through her profile of the killer, adding a couple of notes. She sat, her mind spinning. Who was he?
Too soon, the bathroom door opened, and Heath stalked out. He wore faded jeans that cupped his muscled legs and a dark T-shirt that stretched nicely across his tight chest. His wet hair curled toward his neck, and he’d left the shadow on his jaw. His greenish brown eyes were back to being alert and distant.
Even so, her breath quickened a little. Just from one simple look at him.
Why did he have to be so good-looking?
“Ready?” he asked.
She set the files down and followed him out of the bedroom and into the wide, currently empty living room, which was adjacent to the open-concept kitchen. “Zara said we probably won’t get more furniture for the apartments.”
Heath shook his head. “We’re not gonna be here long enough to get furniture, and we don’t have the funds right now anyway.” He strode around the granite-covered kitchen island and opened a cupboard above the fridge to take down a mean-looking black handgun. He checked the clip and slammed it home. He stuck the gun into the back of his waistband. “I always carry.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t at the funeral in DC.”
He tilted his head. “I figured the FBI might want to chat. Maybe even check out my rig. So you’re right . . . No gun in DC.”
As she watched, he reached to the top of the fridge and drew out a fighting knife to place near his calf. “Knife, too?” she croaked.
“Yes.”
“We do seem to have enough enemies, now, don’t we?” She ran through events. “Besides the Copper Killer and the fake marshals, you think the guy who attacked us at the hotel will find us again.”
“Yeah. The guy at the hotel could be one of the fake marshals, but I’m not sure,” he returned. “They’re associated with another case, which I can’t tell you about. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
She understood patient confidentiality, so she kind of understood this. Her temples twinged with the promise of a migraine, and she brushed it away. If that’s how he wanted it, they’d keep it distant and professional. So much for being friends. Something told her he’d be a good friend to have, but apparently he limited the people he let in to his brothers. And Zara. There had been definite fondness when he’d introduced Zara. As twisted as it was, Anya wanted that trust and loyalty from him. She wasn’t going to get it.
A lump filled her throat. “Fine.”
His eyebrows rose. “Many an expression crossed your face for nearly a whole minute for you to end with a good old ‘Fine.’”
She strode for the apartment door and yanked it open. “It sucks to be on the outside looking in, you know?”
He reached her in seconds and slid his palm down to clasp her hand, enclosing her with warmth and strength. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
There he went, being sweet. She tried to keep her hand stiff in his, yet her fingers relaxed right into his hold. “I’m trusting you to come up with a plan to catch a serial killer and keep me safe at the same time.” She wasn’t delusional enough to believe she could take on the Copper Killer on her own, and Heath definitely had experience she lacked. “I understand confidentiality for other cases, but this guy came after you with me there, too. Tell me something about him.”
“All I can tell you is that he’s a hired gun for somebody I’m hunting down, and he’s trained. If he finds us and comes at me again, you have to run away as hard and fast as you can.”
A shiver wound down her back. “Who are you hunting, and who’s your client?”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sorry. Confidential.”
The soft touch warmed through to her heart. He might act like a distant badass soldier sometimes, but Heath Jones sure liked to kiss. At least his cold attitude was warming toward her. “All right. Let’s get something to eat.”
Denver was waiting for them in his Jeep. “Ryker went early to return your rental.” He smiled at Anya.
She smiled back while Heath held open the passenger door. She jumped in and buckled her belt. The drive across town took twenty minutes, and Heath remained silent in the backseat. Snowville was an older town with mom-and-pop stores, bigger department stores, and tons of fast-food restaurants.
Neon lights proclaimed the diner as Hal’s Diner, which sat directly across from another older brick building.
“Decoy offices,” Denver said quietly as he pulled up to the curb.
Heath jumped out and opened her door to assist her out. “I’ve never asked.”
She kept hold of his hand for balance and looked up. “Asked what?”
“About dietary restrictions. I should’ve asked. I don’t think they have vegan options here.” He led her through the snow to the door. “I haven’t dated in a long time. Not that this is a date. I mean, you know.”
