Page 36 of The Murder Between Us
That last bit was recommended by Cole, after working on the speech to the press for over an hour. How did they address both the public and the killer, speak to two wildly different audiences simultaneously? How could they reassure the public and rattle the killer’s cage?
“Why did the FBI call in a profiler now? Why wasn’t a profiler called six years go?”
He didn’t have an answer to that.If we had, Cole wouldn’t be here now. But if they had, would they have caught the killer? Would people be alive today if they had done more back then? Would he have been able to stay with Cole in Vegas, explore the desire and yearning that had ignited between them?
Cole slid to his side, smoothly joining him in front of the reporters’ microphones. “The FBI is totally committed to catching this killer. There are many, many components that go into a murder investigation, and I promise you, the FBI has always done their utmost.” He smiled briefly at Noah. “Special Agent Downing was one of the agents assigned to the task force six years ago, and now he’s leading the hunt for the killer. There’s nothing that can get by him. There’s no place for this man to hide. I promise you that.”
Noise, reporters’ questions, voices talking over each other. Blood pounding in Noah’s ears, his pulse running wild. The world swimming, arching left and right as white seemed to ring his vision. Cole’s hand landed on the small of his back. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” Noah grunted. “Please contact the joint task force if you have any information that can help us catch this killer.” Noah strode away, leading Cole and the representatives of the counties and police departments that made up the task force back into the FBI building.
Deputies and police officers ambled toward the elevators, heading to the office and to staff the phone bank. Jacob had ordered pizza and wings for everyone while Noah spoke to the media. It was going to be a long afternoon—probably a long night—as the phones rang and they waited for the effects of the press conference to shake out. Tomorrow morning, they’d have more leads, and they’d hit the ground running.
Noah stopped Cole as Cole went to follow the others. He had his hands in his pockets, his chinos showcasing his long, strong thighs. His shoulders highlighted the powerful, yet also delicate, V of his body. Everything about him screamed out to Noah.This is what you want. This iswhoyou want.
“Would you like to get lunch?” He stared over Cole’s shoulder. If he looked at Cole, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Or speak.
“Didn’t Jacob order food for everyone?”
“Yeah, he did.” Noah held his breath. “Do you want to get something to eat together?” His gaze flicked to Cole’s. “Just us.”
Cole stared. Noah squirmed. This was a horrible idea.So stupid, you’re so stupid to ask. He doesn’t like you. Pathetic.“Forget it—”
“Yes. I’d love to go out to lunch with you,” Cole said carefully.
Noah couldn’t have cared less about what they ate. He took Cole to a bar and grill that served the standard bar fare: burgers, wings, and pub steaks. Cole ordered a chicken sandwich. Noah ordered a burger he knew he wasn’t going to eat.
They sat in silence on a sun-drenched patio beneath a spinning fan, the breeze ruffling Cole’s blond hair. Reflections of Noah stared back at him from Cole’s mirrored aviators. He turned away, shredding a napkin to individual fibers. The silence lengthened, grew heavy, only ESPN’sSportsCenterdroning from the TV in the corner.
Still, the silence wasn’t agonizing or accusatory. It seemed expectant, as if Cole was waiting. Waiting for him, like he’d waited Wednesday night when he held Noah’s hand and gave him the choice: stay or go. Come with him or go back to his hotel, his life.
It seemed like the same choice was before him now. Open his mouth. Say something. Take a risk. Or say nothing and go back to his life. Go back to what was before Vegas, before Cole.
Before he tasted happiness.
“That reporter’s question,” Noah started. He cleared his throat. “About why we requested the BAU’s help now?”
Cole pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. He waited, watching Noah.
“I, uh. I asked John to request the BAU send someone. Send their best.” He took a quick breath, blew it out. Laughed. “I asked that because, on Tuesday, I was at the BAU profiler workshop.”
He didn’t have to tell Cole what conference he was talking about.
“I wrote that presentation.”
“You didn’t present it.” A woman had, an impressive special agent from the BAU. She was gorgeous, ebony skin and coal-dark eyes, and she’d seized control of that entire ballroom from the first word she spoke. He could still picture her on the dais in her ivory suit, extolling the benefits of BAU profiling. Going through their successful cases. He’d been sold immediately.
“Cassandra is more striking. She gets a far better response than I do.”
“She is striking, yes. But so are you.” His breath hitched after he spoke.
Cole froze. A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to be around you. I’m trying to follow your lead, but you’re giving me mixed messages, Noah.”
“I know.” He stared at his hands. His skin was dry. He ran his knuckles over the tabletop.
“I wish you weren’t afraid of me,” Cole breathed.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You’re afraid of something. Something to do with me.”
