Page 8 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

Two men walked into the room, both wearing black cargo pants and polo shirts with badges embroidered on their chests. One of them was Eric.

Even if she were standing, at about six-three or four, he would tower over her like a skyscraper looming over an anthill. Piercing blue eyes drilled her like twin laser beams, and she resisted the urge to squirm. Was it him making her face heat hotter than a furnace, or the fact that he was an ATF agent?

Both. Definitely, both.

In a habitual movement she remembered vividly, he shoved his big hand through all that thick, spiky blond hair, mussing it and making him look adorable and sexy as hell.

“Tess,” he said simply, and her mind went utterly blank.

The urge to run had her legs twitching, although she didn’t know what she wanted more—to run into his arms or haul ass out the door. Because it was still there. It being the snap-crackle-and-pop that ignited the air with fireworks whenever they were together, linking them in a way she didn’t understand.

Or, God help her, want.

Chapter Three

That long, curly red hair and those vibrant, kiwi-green eyes… Eric had been with beautiful women before, but he’d never met one who had the ability to strike him stupid and leave him totally tongue-tied like a teenage kid with his first crush. The way he’d felt the first time he’d seen Tess McTavish a year ago at the Dog Park Café.

The same way he felt now.

“Ahem,” Dayne Andrews, his friend and FBI K-9 agent, coughed from behind him.

Right. Head out of ass.

He walked into the room, allowing Dayne to follow and shut the door behind them. He set the bag of food on the table in front of Jesse. When Tess stood, the top of her head was barely even with his pecs. She was as petite as he remembered. He couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling the length of her purple tie-dye pencil skirt that went all the way to the floor. To her purple-painted toenails.

Her eyes filled with concern and— Was that fear?

When he extended his hand, she stared at it as if it were a snake about to wrap around her neck. Her hand trembled slightly as she placed it in his, and her graceful throat swallowed. He’d seen it before. Some people got totally freaked out inside a police station, let alone a federal lockup, and she had to be worried about her kid brother.

“Eric.” As her tiny hand clasped his, a warm, prickling sensation raced up his arm.

He couldn’t stop the slight twitch of his lips at how absurdly small her hand was, engulfed by his. He’d always wondered if her skin would be as soft and smooth as it looked. Now he had the answer. It is.

Releasing her hand, he indicated Dayne. “This is FBI Special Agent Dayne Andrews.”

As Tess and Dayne shook, her smooth brow wrinkled. “You look familiar.”

“I should,” Dayne answered. “We met briefly in the hospital in Springfield.”

“Right.” She nodded grimly. “That was a dark time.”

“The darkest,” Eric agreed. Thankfully, Nick had pulled through.

Nearly a year ago to the day, another of his best friends, Nick Houston, a K-9 sergeant with the Massachusetts State Police, was shot by a gunrunner and came a hair’s breadth from dying. He not only survived but married Tess’s best friend, Andi Hardt. Now, they had a three-month-old baby girl Eric had never met.

“How are Andi, Nick, and the baby?” he asked, trying to ease the tension so obvious on her face.

“They’re all doing great.” She smiled, although her body was stiff as a board. “Baby Rose is growing like a weed. You should see how much Nick dotes on her.”

“I have seen.” Eric tapped the cell phone clipped to his belt. “He sends me pictures just about every day. Sometimes five at a time.” They smiled at each other, but anyone could see there was no real joy in the room.

A curious look flitted across Jesse McTavish’s face as he watched his sister.

“I brought you a sandwich, some chips, and a soda.” Eric nodded to the paper bag. “If you’re hungry, dig in. We can talk while you chow down.”

Tess eyed him oddly for a moment, then her expression turned to one of surprise.

“What?” he asked.