Chapter Two
22 hours, 55 minutes remaining
BPOV
I had one shot. I couldn't screw this up. I held Edward Masen's icy stare without flinching. If he said no, I have failed. I couldn't go back to Birmingham without him. Too much was riding on his cooperation. For starters, a child's life. Getting the bastard, officially designated as the unknown subject, or un-sub, who had done this ranked a close second.
"How did the unsub communicate?" Masen asked grudgingly.
Relief trickled inside. At least I had his attention now. This is a step in the right direction.
"There was an e-mail at six last evening. Alyssa had been missing for ten hours at that point. Since she never made it to her classroom yesterday morning, we have to assume he picked her up somewhere at school immediately after her mother dropped her off. The email informed us that she was in his custody and that she was safe. He gave us the time constraint and one instruction: that he would only deal with you."
At this point, there were details I couldn't share with him. My supervisor, Special Agent Michael Newton, had instructed me to provide the minimum amount of information possible to get Masen on board. Not that they had much. They didn't. Irrespective of the less than optimal situation, until Masen could be completely ruled out as a potential suspect, he had to be handled like one.
But Newton was wrong, Masen wasn't involved. If I had any doubts, the state I found him, the flicker of pain and the surprise in his eyes on hearing about the child and the promised clues diminished the rest.
Then there was the matter of his overall appearance. Masen looked like hell. Nothing like the man depicted in the legendary stories of the Hunter, the last of the true bloodhounds that I had heard whispers of at the academy. The theory that he had plotted a kidnapping to draw attention to himself or to get back at the Bureau was bullshit. The man I'm looking at right now is pretty much a disaster that had already happened. He wasn't planning anything except his next smoke or drink.
"He provided proof of life?"
Masen's question interrupted my thoughts. Allowing my attention to drift like that was a strategic error I couldn't risk repeating in his presence. As far down skid row as he has appeared to have gone, I have a feeling that beneath that hangover and the I don't give a shit attitude, he was still damned sharp at drawing conclusions.
"Yes, the email included a photo." He moved around me to help himself to another cup of coffee as if we had all the time in the world. Anxiety and anticipation tightened my chest making every beat of my heart an unnatural effort. Each second seemed an eternity.
Each minute that got away from me was one I couldn't get back, one that might prove pivotal as the case played out. Standing around here, wasting those precious moments had my tension mounting at breakneck speed.
To make matters worse, standing this close to Masen, I found it impossible not to inhale his scent – a mixture of man, heat, and his many vices. He seemed taller than the six two his personnel file had listed. Definitely leaner than the one ninety he'd weighed according to those statistics. The instant he opened the door, he had me off balance. Scarcely dressed…all that naked skin culminating in the fuck me vee exposed by his unfastened jeans.
I had arrived prepared for his bitterness and underlying anger. Like he said, the way his career had ended had been ugly, and very public. But none of my preparation had readied me for his blatant sexuality. He had been handsome before, but this edgy, primitive version of that man had me scrambling to regain my usual poise.
The angles of his face were more distinct than in the photos I've seen, as if time and living a life of debauchery since leaving the Bureau had chiseled them so. A couple of days' beard growth accentuated those distracting changes. The whole package was very disconcerting.
"No luck tracing the IP?" he asked when he made some headway on his second cup of coffee.
"None." I admitted. That was one of the few things we did know already, the unsub was smart.
"This one knows how to erase his cyber footprints better than most."
"Sounds like you don't have much, considering you're beyond the twenty-four-hour mark." He turned his head staring directly at me. "That's bad agent."
"That's why I'm here." I said holding his gaze, understanding on some level that he used this probing intimacy as an intimidation technique rather than as the crude invitation he would have me believe.
"We need you."
He set his cup aside. His hand shook and he immediately fisted it to halt the visible reaction to his apparent overindulgence in self-abuse. According to his psych evaluation, he hadn't been a drinker or a smoker during his time with the Bureau. This raw, uncut demeanor gave the definite impression that the crash of his career had taken a significant toll. His auburn hair was longer, shaggier, as if he hadn't visited a barber in quite some time and didn't care. His current occupation, when he bothered to show up, was acting as a spotter at a local nightclub.
Whatever Masen's demons and addictions, the only thing I cared about was obtaining his cooperation. This was my first opportunity to play a principal part in a high profile case. The only way I was going to get Newton's respect, or that of any of my colleagues, was to prove myself in the field.
I had to make this happen. They needed to know I could do it. I needed to know I could do it. Challenging Newton's decision on not bringing in Masen was a step in that direction, even if it risked my career. Call it instinct, woman's intuition, whatever but I had a feeling that Masen was the only one who had a snowballs chance in hell of stopping this unsub even if we did finagle the clues out of him.
Now if I could only get Masen to comprehend the urgency. Time was running out for Alyssa Byrne. When he'd downed the last of his coffee, he lit up a cigarette, blew out a lungful of smoke, and finally broke his silence.
"Since I was personally invited to this soiree, did anyone take a look at who might have a hard-on for putting a bullet in my brain?"
The scent of seared tobacco invaded my senses, the knowledge that it had come from his lips irrationally disturbing. I resisted the urge to squirm.
"We understand that's a possibility. As you know, at the moment, our primary focus is rescuing the child." The theory that the unsub was attempting to lure Masen out of exile was still under consideration, along with the idea that the legend himself was somehow behind the kidnapping. I was not authorized to share that part with him at this point.
"Of course we'll do all within our power to ensure you're protected."
Masen tossed me a look that said exactly how much stock he had in that promise, then started to pace. He forked the fingers of his free hand through his sleep-tousled hair; let the cigarette dangle from the other.
"If…" He stopped abruptly, trapping me in the crosshairs of his full attention.
"If I agree to do this, I'll be lead on the case. I won't be taking any orders from your SAC or any – dammed- body else, including you. Is that clear?"
That authority wasn't mine to give… but I couldn't afford to let him see me hesitate.
"I'm certain that can be arranged."
He walked toward me, those green eyes cutting straight through me like the laser-driven scope of a high-powered rifle. "You don't have the authority to make that guarantee, do you?" He didn't stop until he stood toe to toe with me.
"Do you?"
"I'm certain," I started, not about to let him see me sweat it, "that every effort will be made to accommodate you. Your cooperation isn't optional; the unsub requires it." Somehow I managed to hold his intimating gaze.
"I must stress again how little time we have. The sooner we get started, the better our chance of success."
"Make the call." He tossed the butt of his cigarette into the sink without shifting his piercing glare one centimeter.
"Confirm that condition and I'll consider your request."
At least he hadn't said no. I reached for my cell phone that was clipped to the waistband of my skirt. That he'd crowded into my personal space, pinned me against the counter had jolted my pulse rate into a faster rhythm. As much as I needed his cooperation, I wasn't standing for his intimidation tactics any longer.
If I didn't get some boundaries in place soon, this situation was only going to fly further out of control. That was a risk I couldn't take.
"You're crowding me, Masen." For a couple of seconds, then ten, I was certain he wouldn't back off. But then, to my immense relief he relented, if only one step, giving me room to breathe.
I put the call through, Newton waiting to hear from me. He let me know that upfront. I had to bite my tongue to hold back the argument that I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Alyssa Byrne's father. When more than eighteen hours passed without any measurable progress, Bryne had insisted on Masen' s inclusion in the case.
Newton had balked, just as he had when I had mentioned the same thing earlier, and Byrne had reached out to his political allies, overridding any possible excuse the SAC -Special Agent in Charge- could hope to toss out.
"He needs assurance that he'll be in charge of the case." I told the SAC without preamble. I had barely managed not to flinch at Newton's bellowed answer.
"Tell him that condition is non-negotiable." Masen interjected as if he had heard every single word of the response. The way Newton had yelled, it was entirely possible.
"The condition is non-negotiable." I passed on. Newton proceeded to give me a list of all the reasons that Masen's proposal was completely out of the question, but then he told me what I needed to hear. Promise him whatever you have to, just get his ass up here.
"Thank you sir." I hung up the phone and placed it back in it's holster.
"You'll be in charge." I told him but Masen's eyes tampered with suspicion.
"That easy huh?" I refused to allow him to bully me.
"You have my word." I told him but he laughed. One of those soft sounds that lacked amusement and reeked of arrogance.
"I hate to tell you this Agent Swan, but I find that less reassuring. You see, I know a rookie when I see one." He reclaimed the step he surrendered, leaned close enough to plant his hands on the counter on either side of me.
"You can't guarantee me shit."
"We're wasting time. You're either going or you're not. If you want to help that little girl, then you'll get dressed so we can get this done. Otherwise, get out of my way, I don't have time for the macho methods you consider charming."
He didn't move. The fear that I had pushed him too hard...that I couldn't handle this man, clawed at me. But I wasn't about to let him see that he could get to me so effortlessly. If I gave him that inch, he would take a mile I didn't have to spare. I might lack his experience but I was the one with a badge and a gun.
His haughty gaze dropped to my mouth.
"I gotta tell you Swan, you've got some great lips." Enough. I flattened my palm against his chest, pulling my jacket back with my left hand leaving my weapon in plain sight.
"Back off." The corner of his mouth tilted shamelessly, but he straightened away from me, putting his hands up in mock surrender.
"No need to get testy." Suddenly he dropped his arms to his side, and all signs of amusement and smugness vanished.
"What kind of transportation do we have?" The sudden turn about had me grappling. I reached for calm but couldn't find it so I settled for furious.
"Private plane, it's waiting at the airport in Marathon." Surprise lifted his brows.
"Well that's traveling in style."
"Mr. Byrne insisted considering the time crunch. The Learjet belongs to him, not the Bureau." Masen considered for a moment.
"I'll need a shower first." He was going. The sense of relief was almost too much.
"Make it fast. Our time is limited." He acknowledged my order with a nod and walked away. I wanted to kick myself for watching. For admiring the way his jeans glove his lean hips. That he got to me on that level was not only infuriating but startling. No one has ever gotten to me this way. And as if he felt my gaze, he hesitated and turned back once more.
"Just so you know Swan, I'm doing this for the kid. Not for you, and definently not for the Bureau." He swaggered off, leaving me with emotions I couldn't begin to label. Which I was glad for as it was better not to know.
Keeping former Special Agent Edward Masen under control wasn't going to be easy. The man he had become was far more than a loose cannon. He was dangerous.