Cold Spite (Cold Justice: Most Wanted #5)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

D espite the late night, Cas was up early the next morning. He’d just finished ironing his best white dress shirt when someone began to pound on his door.

He shook the shirt out and then slid his arms into the still hot material, buttoning it up as he headed to the door. He checked the peephole and, as he’d expected, a shirtless Ryan Sullivan stood there in black dress pants and shiny black shoes.

He opened up, and Ryan stepped inside.

“Can I borrow your iron? Mine broke.”

“It was broke last time you needed it too.”

Ryan looked at him like he was an idiot. “It’s still broke.”

“There’s this thing they invented called the internet. You can go online and order a new iron.” Demarco snapped his fingers together. “And it appears on your doorstep, like magic.”

Ryan grinned. “Why bother when I can use yours?” He indicated the spare room. “You mind?”

“Go ahead.” With a heavy sigh that had nothing to do with Ryan, Cas headed over to the fancy espresso machine he’d won at a fundraiser last year.

“I’ll take a coffee, too, if it’s not too much trouble. ”

Cas shook his head as he added a second mug. “Want me to whip up some breakfast while I’m at it?”

“Nah. I figured if I was hungry we’d stop at the drive-through on the way to the service.”

Classic Ryan .

“Where’d you disappear to yesterday anyway?”

“I had a little personal business to take care of.”

“Was she pretty?”

Cas shook his head as he made another beverage.

“Oh, come on, Grandpa. Lighten up. One of these days you might actually wanna get laid.”

“I’m younger than you are, motherfucker.”

“Only in age.”

Cas held out the mug of coffee as Ryan came back into the room while slipping his arms into the sleeves of his hastily pressed shirt. Ryan took the mug while Cas went to unplug the iron before he joined his buddy back in the living room.

“Where’d you go?” Ryan blew on the dark roast.

“I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “You in trouble?”

“Not me.” He could look after himself. “Someone who used to be close to me.”

Ryan was serious now. “If you need help…”

“I know.” Cas nodded.

Ryan might be a pain in the neck, but he and their fellow operators on Gold Team would help Cas bury a body if necessary, no questions asked. But he wasn’t sure what they could do right now, and he didn’t want to have to lie to any of them about Delilah. He couldn’t risk exposing the fact that she was still alive. Even though he trusted them implicitly, the more people who knew, the more chance of it accidentally slipping out to the wrong person that she’d survived the fire.

“Let’s get the memorial over with, and maybe we can start to get back to normal around here.” Although the reintroduction of Delilah into his life—a woman he loved with his whole being— had knocked normal out of the window. But he couldn’t think about her like that. Not anymore. He had to think of her as a fellow professional—not even a friend. She had made that more than clear yesterday. She needed his help with no strings attached.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t remind her of his incredible charm though, and then maybe…

He cut himself off. No maybes.

This was work.

And possibly his last chance of redemption.

Ryan was uncharacteristically quiet as he stared out of the window at the view across the town with the Potomac beyond. As a sniper, Cas liked this place from an overwatch position perspective, but the main reason he stayed here was that a few of the other single guys from HRT did too. Made for a nice sense of community.

He finished his coffee and put the mug in the dishwasher. Then he grabbed his black suit jacket and found a black tie. He handed Ryan one too. Easier to do that than wait for Ryan to find his own. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

“Want me to drive?”

“Nope. I need my truck after the service. I can drop you off at work.”

“Ackers is planning drinks and canapés at his place afterward, but Shane has to take Grace to the hospital for a scan. I figured I’d watch Grace’s kids.”

Grace Monteith was the widow of one of their teammates who’d been murdered by a sadistic serial killer on the first day of the year. She had two young children and was seven months pregnant with the third. The team were doing their best to help her through what had to be the worst time of her life. And, although they’d never replace Scotty, they could at least help ease the burden of being a single mom.

Cas grunted with annoyance. “I meant to paint the nursery last weekend.” They’d been in Boston for most of it .

“There’s time yet before the baby arrives, and they don’t care what color the walls are.”

Cas nodded. Talk of babies and nurseries reminded him of Delilah—although it had been hard to think of anything else since Monday night. She’d always had that effect on him. Another excuse he’d used to destroy what they’d had. He wouldn’t allow anything to interfere with his goal of getting into HRT, so he’d eliminated her from his life.

Her father’s threat had probably been a bluff and even if it hadn’t been, Cas could have gone through selection and then got back in touch with Delilah and let the HRT brass duke it out with the Assistant Director.

Kurt Montana would have gone to bat for him.

Delilah would have waited.

She’d have still been on the other side of the country, but he knew now, they could have made it work.

He’d been so scared of the rejection he’d believed was sure to come that he’d left her alone to deal with what had been one of the worst times of her life. He’d been a coward and a fool.

If he were her, he’d never forgive him either.

“I’ll show my face at Acker’s place.” Cas needed to ask for some time off and that would be the best place to catch his superiors feeling sentimental and in a “there’s more to life than work” frame of mind.

Or not.

Cas fixed his tie and collar in the mirror by the door, squinting at his reflection.

What did Delilah think when she looked at him now? Had he aged horribly compared to his foolish 27-year-old self? He’d caught her staring at him on the plane, but her expression hadn’t exactly been full of lust. More like regret and what-the-hell-was-I-thinking.

Ryan stood behind him fixing his own tie. “I hate funerals.”

“It’s not a funeral.” There was no body to bury.

Ryan pulled a face. “Same difference. ”

Cas ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t remember ever worrying about his appearance before and rolled his eyes at himself. She’d told him she wasn’t interested in starting anything back up, and he had to respect that. She had to hate him for what she’d been forced to go through. But he couldn’t douse the tiny kernel of hope that kept springing to life inside him, along with the knowledge that this might be his last chance to find any kind of happiness outside his job. His last chance with the only woman he’d ever cared about.

“Okay, Cinderella.” Ryan stared at him. “You look good, not that Montana will give a shit, but I’d definitely do you.”

“As if I would lower myself to a cowboy as fickle as you.” Cas smiled as he opened the door. “After you, amigo.”

Ryan high-fived him. “See you in the parking lot.”

Cas headed down the stairs rather than use the elevator. It was good exercise, and he wasn’t a fan of confined spaces—something he’d had to overcome during SEAL training. He checked his cell, but neither Killion nor Delilah had contacted him. He was impatient to know what was going on, and man enough to admit he’d been a little jealous of Alex Parker last night, sweeping in to save the day with his good looks and his fancy car and access to information. Considering the guy was happily married, it was not Cas’s finest moment.

Sebastian Black leaned against Cas’s truck, checking his phone screen. He looked relieved to see Cas but didn’t say anything about what had happened on Monday night.

Damian Crow, aka Birdman, strolled over and climbed in the backseat without a word. Cas had arranged to give the others a ride before this thing with Delilah had kicked off. He was glad he was able to keep his promise. These men were the closest thing to family he’d ever had.

He wasn’t sure what he’d shared with Delilah. Nothing familial. More like finding the missing parts of himself. Their relationship had been a mix of euphoria and astonishment, adrenaline and paralytic fear, wrapped up within a supernova’s worth of lust .

And he’d killed it.

Dead.

They drove to St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church in silence. The parking lot was already almost full even though they’d arrived early.

They found a space in the far corner. Ryan tossed the FBI ball cap he’d been wearing onto the dash and smoothed his hair.

Cas spotted Shane Livingstone, Will Griffin pulling up with Yael Brooks, and the heavily pregnant Grace. Payne Novak, Charlotte Blood, Dominic Sheridan, and Ava Kanas piled out of Novak’s truck.

Quentin Savage and Haley Cramer, Eban Winters and the pretty redhead they’d help rescue from a volcanic island in Indonesia climbed out of Savage’s SUV. The redhead reached for Eban’s hand, and he took it, pulling her close.

Lincoln Frazer drove up in his Lexus with Aaron Nash riding shotgun. Cas’s eyes widened as the principal from their last mission, Assistant District Attorney Hope Harper, climbed out of the back seat and took Aaron’s hand as they walked to the church. Obviously, they were not hiding the fact they’d become involved during an op even with the higher ups in attendance, but that was classic Nash—Mr. Integrity.

Frazer wrapped his arm around a tall blonde who had a no-nonsense set to her chin. It was the first time Cas had seen the legendary profiler with anyone.

It was good that people had their support systems in place. This was a difficult time for everyone, even professionals who knew the risks when they signed up for the job.

His throat went tight as loneliness crowded him.

Montana had been more than their boss. He’d also been a father figure to many of them. A hard man, a competitive man, but someone who had your back. He was the reason Cas had left the SEALs early and joined the FBI. He was the reason Cas was able to hold his head high when he looked in the mirror—at least he had been able to, until Delilah had told him what had happened after he’d dumped her.

Alex Parker arrived in an Audi sportscar with a pretty brunette Cas knew worked at the BAU. No sign of Delilah.

The two of them exchanged a look.

“What was that about?” Ryan asked suspiciously.

Cas shrugged.

“Since when do you know Alex Parker?”

Cas shot him a look. “I don’t.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully then Donnelly walked up, and she and Ryan started bickering like a couple of kids.

Cas glanced around through the trees that surrounded the church, an uncomfortable itch forming between his shoulder blades. “Let’s go inside and find a seat. It’s gonna be packed.”

Without waiting, he strode inside and slid into the pew behind Novak.

He leaned forward to murmur to his team leader. “Looks like half of CIRG are here.” The FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group encompassed the national tactical, investigative and operational support groups including HRT, the Crisis Negotiation Unit, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit. “Better hope no bad guys attack anything in the next couple of hours.”

“Unfortunately, I would not take that bet,” Novak whispered back, “but Red and Blue teams are on notice. Other people can hold the line today.”

Cas scanned the pews, surprised to see the blonde from the bar Monday night sitting up front beside the new FBI Director, plus Daniel Ackers, director of HRT, and another woman.

He leaned forward to speak to Novak again. “Who’s that in the front?”

“Montana’s ex-wife and daughter.”

Daughter?

Cas had known the man had a kid he didn’t see very often, but for some reason he’d imagined she was around twelve. He turned and spotted Jordan Krychek crossing himself as he walked down the center aisle. The operator slipped into a pew on the opposite side of the church. Dinah Cohen, on loan from the Israelis, sat behind him.

Cas wondered what her deal was and if she knew anything about the plane crash that had killed his friend and mentor. If so, she wasn’t talking, instead spending most of her time observing their training methods and acting as a liaison—although between whom was beyond him.

The church pews were full now, and people ranged along the side of the walls. Donnelly walked in late and squeezed in at the other end of their line, jamming in like a wedge beside Ryan, who wriggled like an infant with a wet diaper. The music started, and they all quieted. The priest began the ceremony.

Cas’s gaze was drawn to the depiction of Christ being crucified above the altar. The sunlight glowed softly through the stained glass. The scene was calm and peaceful, totally at odds with how he felt inside.

Novak stood and gave a powerful eulogy about exactly what Kurt Montana had meant to them all. Despite the tough exterior, tears streamed down Novak’s face, and he wasn’t alone. Cas’s throat was so tight he thought he might choke.

When Novak sat back down, Cas saw Charlotte reach for his hand. Novak held on like he was in free-fall.

They stood to sing a hymn, and the room filled with the sound of voices. But not Cas. He couldn’t make a sound.

Emotion roared inside him as eulogy after eulogy honored a man who’d served his country for more than two decades. Cas had loved him more than the father he’d never known. And if it hurt this much to lose Montana, how would it feel to actually lose Delilah?

He’d had a solid preview on Monday night, and it had felt as if he were being eviscerated.

Scanlon was the antithesis of Montana. What would Joseph’s next move be?

He’d come after him .

Cas knew it as surely as he knew the color of his own eyes.

Maybe they could set a trap. Use him to lure the motherfucker to his own doom.

Cas silently apologized for cursing inside a place of worship, not that Montana had been particularly religious.

Cas stared at the official FBI portrait of the guy in front of the Stars and Stripes. The fact that Montana was dead and never coming back hit him all over again like an RPG.

What a waste. What a tragic waste. Just like Scotty.

And Delilah…she’d missed death by minutes.

Any other night, and it would have been her in her apartment, and while she wouldn’t have been so easy to creep up on, Scanlon was a big guy who’d once been among the fittest and deadliest operators in the world. Maybe he’d lost his edge in prison—or maybe he’d honed it against the rough walls of his cell and the hard nature of his peers.

Cas remembered the way Joseph Scanlon had watched Delilah when she’d been posing as Lacey Reed. He’d lusted after her like a dog after a bitch in heat. As far as they could tell, Scanlon hadn’t assaulted Valerie. Maybe there hadn’t been time. Perhaps Scanlon had reason to know David Gonzales wouldn’t be home for long. Or perhaps crushing the woman’s skull had cooled his lust.

Scanlon wasn’t necessarily academically brilliant, but he was crafty as hell. Once he discovered Delilah was still alive…

The thought of her being at that guy’s mercy made Cas feel physically ill. The memory of the twisted, battered, blackened corpse filled his mind so completely he could even taste the toxic air of that autopsy suite.

His heart started to pound as his mouth went bone dry.

He clenched his jaws as the walls closed in on him. He loosened his tie, which was suddenly strangling him. The skin on his shoulders felt as if a thousand ants were doing a jig. The need to get out of the building became overwhelming.

He tried to remember all the lessons in calm that had been drilled into him over the years and breathed deep and slow, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and a headache started to build. He stood, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates, and pushed his way through the crowd that rippled around him like water. At the entrance, he took in a lungful of cold, clean air and wiped the sweat from his brow.

He fucking hated funerals.

Not wanting his colleagues to see him like this, he headed toward his truck, past the white marble statue of St. Francis, and around the side of the small adjacent school.

He was parked in the far corner of the lot, near the trees. He dialed Delilah’s burner as he went.

She picked up almost immediately. “Any update?”

He cleared his throat. “No. I just got out of the memorial service. I wanted to check up on you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m eating toast and drinking coffee at Parker’s place and desperate to make some progress. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I was, er, worried…” He closed his eyes. “Shit. Sorry. I know I’m probably annoying the hell out of you, but I…” He laughed self-consciously. “I guess I can’t help myself.”

“Try harder.” Thankfully her tone held a little humor.

He opened the driver’s door and noticed a glint of light reflecting off something deep in the trees.

He frowned. In the same moment, he realized that the ball cap Ryan had tossed onto the dash was missing.

Someone had been in his truck.

That same someone was currently watching him from the woods.

A thousand things ran through Cas’s mind, the main one being Scanlon was a former sniper in the teams, but also that all SEALs were demolition experts.

Bomb or bullet?

The thoughts bombarded him in the space of a heartbeat. Rather than get into his truck, Cas left the door open, ducked low, pivoted, and sprinted behind the row of vehicles as fast as he could run. The blast wave ripped through the air, caught him mid-stride and flipped him forward, scraping him across the asphalt like he was sliding into home plate.