“There’s plenty of blame to go around,” Canfield reminded him. “Don’t forget, I put my stamp of approval on the whole thing, too. I offered my assurance as a law enforcement professional that Carli would be safe.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Bill answered. “If I had disagreed with you, there is no way Sandra would have given in. None. I’m her father. I’m the one ultimately responsible for protecting her. I’m the one who led that crazy I-90 Killer to her door. I’m the one who failed. It’s just that simple.”
Angela laid a hand on his arm. It felt cool against the heat radiating off his skin. “It doesn’t do any good to blame yourself,” she said quietly. “It won’t get us any closer to bringing Carli home, and that’s the goal—to bring Carli Ferguson home.”
Bill felt dizzy and suddenly tired. Angela left her small, cool hand on his arm and drew closer to him. He looked down into her jarringly bright blue eyes, then he took a half-step toward her, lost in those intense eyes. She matched his advance with a step of her own, and now their bodies were almost touching. This was crazy. Carli was missing and he was going to—what? Get involved with the agent in charge of the investigation? She lifted her hand off his arm and touched his cheek, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up and kissed him, softly at first, then more demanding.
His fear and anger and frustration intersected, exploding into a hunger, a need to leave the despair behind for a few moments with this desirable woman. He returned her kiss with passion, like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. He drew her slim body into his with an unspoken need that matched his own. Their tongues danced and darted, and her body was warm and sweaty.
Bill pulled his lips from hers reluctantly. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he managed, “for a hundred very good reasons.”
“I know,” Canfield responded, “maybe a thousand.” Then she unbuttoned his shirt. She took firm hold of his shirttail and led him down the short hallway to the bedroom.
CHAPTER 36
“IS THIS HOW YOU want our first time to be?” Carli asked, stopping Martin in his tracks.
He stood at the side of her bed, hands on his jeans where he was preparing to unzip them, and gaped at his angel in astonishment. The words she had just spoken were the last things he expected to come out of her mouth. Is she messing with my head? Or is it possible she really wants me? Maybe she’s been waiting for an older man. That would be too much to hope for, but still…
He cleared his throat. “Excuse me? What do you mean?” It was imperative he not allow this young girl, destiny or not, to realize how badly she had rattled him just through the force of her personality.
“Well,” she said, squinting up at him, “I’ve been in these clothes all day and they’re dirty and wrinkled, and I’ve been sweating and nervous, and…well…I really have to go to the bathroom. Would it be all right if I washed up first, before we…well…you know?”
Martin smiled. All of his past failures, all the girls who were impure or unworthy, all the times he had been forced to suffer the crushing disappointment of discovering his companions were not as he had imagined them to be, all of that paled before this moment with this little beauty. All of the aggravation, the nearly four years of searching and trying and suffering, had been worth it, because it had all led up to this moment, with his lovely Carli shining her big blue eyes into his, asking to clean up before consummating their love.
“Of course,” he replied. “How thoughtless of me.” He walked forward slowly, fumbling in the right front pocket of his jeans for the handcuff key. He bent down and stroked his angel’s flaxen hair. He felt her stiffen reflexively, and her eyes widened in fear. The ever-present anger began welling up inside him at her response to his touch and he forced himself to maintain control.
She’s not the same as the others, he told himself, clamping down on the rage before it could begin to consume him. She’s just nervous. I think she wants this as much as I do, but she’s young and inexperienced, like a virgin bride on her wedding night. Of course she feels a little overwhelmed, it’s to be expected.
He reached forward and inserted the key into the side of the cuff encircling the bed post, opening it and leaving the other bracelet securely fastened to his angel’s wrist. There was no point in taking any chances. He held his arm out and helped her rise to a standing position, steadying her when she wobbled slightly. It had obviously been a long day for her, and she was exhausted.
The strange-looking couple moved slowly to the crumbling basement stairs and began climbing up to the main floor.
CHAPTER 37
BILL ALLOWED HIMSELF TO be pulled down the hallway by Angie—Agent Canfield—all the while thinking, What is going on here? It wasn’t that he didn’t find the pretty young agent attractive, sexy, and desirable—he most certainly did.
But he had too much on his plate right now to even consider any kind of romantic entanglement, and the fact that this woman was in charge of the search for his only child’s kidnapper, the man who was suspected to have carried out over a dozen similar kidnappings and presumed murders, made involvement impossible, at least for now.
They turned the corner into Bill’s bedroom. For a moment, he wondered how in the world she had known where it was, then realized the shabby apartment was so tiny his bedroom was located in the only place it could be. “Agent Canfield—”
“Angie,” she interrupted, turning into him and reaching up to kiss him again.
Bill pulled away. “Okay, Angie, then. Listen, Angie, this isn’t right.”