Assassin's Promise, The Red Team Series, Book 5 (2 page)

He touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, then nodded.
 

“Any idea who might have done this? An angry student, perhaps?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Did the security cameras pick anything up?”
 

“Not in detail. Two men wearing dark hoodies, baseball caps, and gloves did it about two a.m. this morning,” Dr. Zimmers said. “They were on motorcycles.”
 

Motorcycles
. Remi’s fingers dug into the books she held. Were they from the White Kingdom Brotherhood?

“Their license plates were obscured,” Officer Franklin’s partner said. “Do you have any enemies? Students who are angry with you? Frustrated parents?”
 

Remi frowned and tilted her head. “There are always students and parents with their own agendas. For the most part, my students and I get along great. They’re good people, active and engaged in their studies.” She smiled. “Though I wouldn’t put it past any of them to do something as outrageous as this for a social experiment.”

“Her students love her,” Dr. Zimmers added. “She’s one of our most highly rated professors. And though it’s still early in her career, she’s making quite a name for herself and for the university. In fact, she was interviewed about her research into American cults for a public radio segment—it just aired yesterday.”

“Maybe someone didn’t like the attention you directed at them,” the other cop suggested.

“I spoke in generalities during the interview. I didn’t call out any specific group. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten pushback while actively doing field research,” Remi admitted, playing it down, making it all sound rational…as if she weren’t close to jumping out of her skin at any moment.

“Which group are you working on now?” the cop asked.

“A local group. The Friendship Community. They’re just up the mountain. They don’t have motorized vehicles anywhere on their compound. They couldn’t have done this.” The WKB could have, however—a theory she kept to herself.

“It could be someone lashing out from one of the previous groups you’ve studied,” Dr. Zimmers suggested.

Remi shrugged. The papers she held were getting heavy, and her arms were sweating. “I guess.”

“Has anything else odd happened lately? Strange emails? Anything threatening?” the campus police asked.

Remi felt her eyes widen. Yes. So much that she was jumping at shadows. And now this.
 

Dr. Zimmers answered for her. “No. The summer’s been very quiet, actually.” The police continued asking her department chair more questions, but Remi had stopped listening.
 

She sent a look around, checking for something that didn’t belong…someone whose gaze seemed furtive or triumphant, someone watching her reaction. She recognized all of the people standing nearby; she worked with them, or taught them, or had seen them on campus. No one looked out of place.
 

Her gaze settled on her teaching assistant, Clancy Weston, a doctoral student at the university. His expression was neither friendly nor concerned. While he had the potential to be a great sociologist, the chip on his shoulder weighed him down. He’d been unhappy when the university hired her; he didn’t seem to think she was the best candidate for the position.

When the police were finished with their questions, she went straight to her office. She’d been feeling a strange, ungrounded anxiety for a while now—a tension which the graffiti only deepened. It was comforting to fill her mind with other thoughts.
 

The university would be back in session in a few weeks. She had to get her syllabus and everything for her class finished up today so Clancy could post the info online before the semester began. Then she could spend the rest of the summer coding her field notes and interviews—and make another visit to the Friends before the summer ended.
 

Chapter Two

“Dr. Chase?”

Remi looked up from her desk to see a tall man filling the entire space of her office door. Words failed her as her eyes traveled the hard edges of his face. He was clean-shaven. His short brown hair was longer on top than on the sides. It was a little curly and uncombed and sexy as hell. His neck was as wide as his square chin, corded and lean. Her gaze lifted then locked on to his light brown eyes, eyes of a warrior—sharp, clear, direct. She had a lot of students like him.
 

Sometimes, though, eyes like his were hard to look at.

“Nice billboard out there.” He nodded in the direction of the front of the building.

Remi felt heat slip up her neck and into her cheeks. From embarrassment or just a reaction to him, she couldn’t tell. Deciding it was the latter, she ignored it. This was not a good day to run into strangers.
 

“I’m sorry…do I know you?”

“No. And I apologize for interrupting. I was hoping you could help me. If you’d rather I made an appointment, I can do that.”
 

“Are you a student here, Mr.—?”

He stepped into her office. “Greer Dawson.” He held a hand out to her.
 

She stood and took his hand, then lost herself in the feel of it against hers, warm, slightly callused, and big. He didn’t crush her fingers, though he could have easily. “I’m a special consultant to the Department of Homeland Security.” He handed her his card.

She lifted her gaze to his eyes, a good eight inches above hers. He wasn’t the first handsome man she’d run into, but he probably was the hottest. All her senses fired off the same warning:
This guy’s trouble.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Dawson?” she asked.

“Greer’s fine. My research indicates you’re an expert on cults. I understand you’re focused on the Friendship Community right now.”

She stayed silent, waiting for his question even as she took a read on his intent.

“I’m hoping you can help me find a young girl I believe is living with the people you’re studying.”

“Was she born in their community?”

“I don’t know.”

“If not, it’s unlikely she’s with the Friends. They don’t have an open-door policy to outsiders. If she wasn’t born into the group, I doubt they’d let her in or allow her to hang out with them. It’s taken me years to build rapport with them—not an easy thing to do.” He seemed unconvinced. “What makes you think she’s in the Friendship Community?”

“I was with her at the clinic in Wolf Creek Bend. Her ‘family’”—he made the sign for air quotes—“took her away in their black buggy. I know she’s with them.”

Remi folded her arms. “What caused her to go to Wolf Creek Bend? The Friends rarely leave their community.”

“She came to kill my team lead.”

Stunned, Remi couldn’t look away. He was deadly serious. “Greer, you do understand that the Friends are pacifists. Committing murder goes against everything their community has stood for nearly two centuries.”

“It happened. I have a lot of questions I’d like answered.” He made a face, tightening his lips as he frowned. “Look, it’s not a quick story.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, up to the thin black leather and silver cords wrapped around his right wrist and the heavy tactical watch on his left. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Remi glanced down to her laptop. She’d submitted the files Clancy needed to get her course up online. She was working on an outline for her article on social cohesion within the Friendship Community. She could take a break. And reluctantly, she had to admit his problem piqued her interest.
 

“All right. Let’s go over to the coffee shop.”

He gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

She nodded, then saved her files and shut down her laptop. She put it in her desk drawer and locked it.
 

Greer waited at her door, letting her exit first. The school was quiet now that they were between summer and fall sessions, but most of the staff were on site gearing up for the fall semester. Clancy Weston passed them in the hall, giving Greer a once-over that made Remi smile.

“Friend of yours?” Greer asked with a lift of his left brow. And damn if she didn’t trace that whole dark line with her eyes before she answered.

“My teaching assistant.”

When they got to the stairwell, he held the door for her. Someone somewhere had taught him manners. Outside, the heat of the August day wrapped the sweet scent of freshly cut grass around her.
 

She didn’t open their discussion until they were fully in the anonymity of the outdoors. “So, tell me about this girl.”

“Unfortunately, there’s not much I know. Her name’s Sally. She’s blond, average height, somewhere between sixteen and eighteen years old.”

“Why was she at the clinic? The Friends have an infirmary on site. They don’t generally embrace western medicine. Not because of any religious practices, but because they’re fairly sanguine about life and the role death plays in it.”

“She’d been drugged. We don’t believe she was operating under her own faculties.”

Remi stopped mid-stride. “No.” She shook her head. “This doesn’t sound anything like the Friends I know. What did she do?”

“She came into Winchester’s—a bar in Wolf Creek Bend—sat on my boss’s lap, and took out a knife to cut his throat.”

Remi pressed her hand to her neck. “Why aren’t the cops after her?”

“My friend isn’t pressing charges.”

“What you’re telling me doesn’t match up with what I know about the Friendship Community. They’re pacifists. They wouldn’t intentionally take a life. Or use drugs. Or leave their compound.” She looked at his implacable face, then rubbed her brow. “The Friends have some kind of relationship with the White Kingdom Brotherhood. I haven’t been able to pin it down yet. Are you sure this girl isn’t in with the WKB?”

He studied her eyes until a muscle bunched in his jaw. “No, I’m not at all sure about that. Maybe she is. All I know is that people who claimed to be her parents changed her into the homespun clothes of their community and took her away in their buggy.”

“Did you go talk to them at the community?”

“Not yet. I get the sense that I have one shot at it. I don’t want to be shut down before I can really try. I was hoping you could get me in.”

Remi shook her head and continued on toward the coffee shop. “No. I’m sorry, but I can’t blow years of work on your problem. Not when I’m so close to wrapping up my research.”

“A girl’s life is worth nothing to you?”

“That’s not fair. You have no idea if she’s actually there. You’re asking me to put my research on the line for your hunch. No.”
 

They reached the coffee shop. He opened the door. They made their order, then waited in silence for their coffees. Caffeine in hand, Remi led the way back outside.
 

“Look, I took a census earlier this summer. If a girl named ‘Sally’ is on it, I’ll let you know. If she’s there, I’ll give you an intro to the elders and the council.”

The guy nodded. “Thank you.”

She lifted her cup and smiled. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She watched him walk down the path leading to one of the parking lots. There was no way she was going to risk everything she’d worked on for a stranger. She felt his card in her pocket. She’d check him out, make sure he was legit before going any further.

* * *

Selena came out of the bunker entrance in the closet of the den later that morning. Owen was at Blade’s desk, writing something longhand. He looked up as she entered, and flipped the page over.

“Got a minute?” she asked.

He nodded, then came around the desk to lean against the front of it. “What can I do for you?”

Selena sent him a look, then glanced out the patio doors as she tried to figure out the best way to say what needed to be said.
 

Owen smiled. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

She tucked her hands behind her back and squared her shoulders. “With all due respect, sir—”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me.”

“—I’d like to request a transfer back to my unit.”

“Negative.”

“Owen—”

“Is this about the kiss?”

“Yes. I overstepped.”

“You didn’t. I did. And I don’t regret it. I needed that kiss at that moment.” She met his eyes. They were so pale and blue, she could drift away in them, like a balloon floating up into a sunny sky.
 

“I do regret, however, that it took your options away,” he continued. “I’m your boss, the only way in or out of this group. That’s not fair to you. So, I’d like to give you a choice. Me or the job.”

Selena felt her brows lift. “Neither. I told you I want to leave.”

“Me or the job.”

She met his eyes until hers burned. She lowered her gaze, looking at his chest, then followed the line of his arm to the place where his hands rested against his crotch, his fingers loosely linked. She lifted her eyes to his, ignoring the heat that was creeping up her neck. “What if I chose you?”

“Then I’d fire you and move your things into my room.”

She huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Way to move slow, Owen.”

“I’m not interested in slow, Selena.”

“And I’m not interested in giving up my plans, my ambitions, and all control over my life.” She shook her head.

“Then your choice is clear.”

“It is.”

“Can we put this behind us?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good.” He smiled and nodded, dismissing her. As she walked out of the den, she realized she’d just been handled by an expert. She was half tempted to go back and call his bluff just to see what he would do.
 

Had anyone ever done that and survived?

* * *

Fiona tried not to let Kelan, who was lounging by the corner of her bathroom, distract her. She’d already moved most of her clothes to their apartment in Fort Collins, so she wouldn’t have much to pack when she moved out of the house for the semester. Some toiletries. Her favorite jeans and a couple of tops. Kelan had suggested she purchase duplicates so that she wouldn’t have to pack or be without anything she needed when commuting back and forth on weekends. She might do that when she was back in town.