Page 2 of Their Virgins Secret

He stared at the front door, his breath puffing out in little clouds. Jessa was behind that door. She’d built a whole new life for herself while they’d worked that op. She’d left New York and her school, found someone new. Jessa had utterly moved on, while he and Cole hadn’t even begun to try yet.

The wrongness of the situation hit him. It felt like a blow to the chest. Jessa hadn’t just moved down the road, but from one state to another, from one relationship to another. From one life to another.

“According to Dex, she didn’t give us her new address. How did she expect us to find her?” How had he missed that? His brain was overloaded with possibilities.

Cole turned to him with troubled blue eyes. “She can’t possibly have a clue that we know where she lives because we’ve kept tabs on her. Was she trying to get us to New York? Is this some kind of fucking game? It feels all wrong. ”

Burke was about to agree. Then the lights went out, all at once. Every last one of them.

“What the hell?” Cole tensed.

Burke could feel him shift. One moment Cole teetered on the edge. The next, his brother was a predator, his every muscle tense and every sense on high alert.

Scanning the area, Burke focused on small clues. Despite the fact that the house had suddenly gone black, the snow and the moon worked in tandem to illuminate the yard. He could see his and Cole’s boot prints. They had already noted the line of smaller prints that ran from the front door to the mailbox and back. He would bet his life they were Jessa’s.

But he saw another larger set that led from the side yard, then around the porch. The husband’s? Why would he be creeping around the house and onto the outdoor space in January after a fucking snow storm? Keeping as silent as possible, he pointed them out to his brother.

Cole nodded, already on it. His stare followed the line of prints. Thick, heavy. They were made by boots Burke estimated were somewhere around size twelve, maybe bigger. Definitely not Jessa’s. Probably not Angus’s, given the location. Then who?

They followed the footprints and found something that scared Burke even more. Someone had stood by her big elm tree. From the number of cigarettes dotting the snow like nasty little scars on a blanket of white, that someone had been there for a while. Five butts. One still spiraled smoke into the frigid air.

“We need to get inside,” Cole whispered. “Now. ”

Burke knew it, too, felt the wrongness. Something nasty was about to happen. The world seemed too quiet, as though simply holding its breath and waiting.

And then he heard the sharp female scream.

Burke took off, Cole right beside him. He hit the porch at a run and tried the door. Locked.

Another scream, high-pitched and primal. Jessa. Sweet Jessa, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, was screaming. No words, just screams, as though the horror could only be conveyed by yelling.

Cole hit the door with his full force. It held strong. The door looked solid, and the glass in the middle was a thick stained glass. But the windows nearby looked to be regular glass.

There was a

heavy potted plant sitting at the doorstep. With a grunt, he hoisted it up and tossed it through the big bay window. The glass shattered, the sound splitting the air. He hated making their entrance obvious, but he didn’t see another quick way in.

Cole followed his lead, using his foot to shove glass free. He kicked at it, trying to make a man-sized hole. This maneuver had the potential to slice him wide open. Not getting to Jessa was far worse. Her screams echoed through the house now, followed by a loud thud. Burke leapt through the window, wincing as protruding glass cut him. The thick coat he’d bought for way too much money at Dulles protected most of his torso, but his knuckles burned with pain. He ignored it.

There was a loud hissing sound, and then Burke was assaulted by a ball of fur and rage. Big green eyes. Claws. He couldn’t see it as more than a blur of moving animal parts, but that hiss registered as cat. Again, he was deeply grateful for the parka as the big feline clawed the Goretex, trying to climb Burke like a tree. Wishing he’d bought gloves, he reached for the animal. The cat scratched at him, but Burke took it by the back of the neck and tossed it across the room. It fell on the floor with a thud.

“Is that loud fucker a…cat?” Cole asked, SIG Sauer in hand, pointed at the animal who snarled and shook.

“Yeah. Probably Jessa’s. ” She’d talked about buying a house in the country and getting a kitten. Apparently she’d done just that after meeting Mr. Fucking Right.

The furball whined, assuring Burke that it was still alive. He reached into his holster and pulled his own gun. The weight was reassuring in his hand. He flicked off the safety. “Where is she?”

Cole pointed toward the back of the house. “The scream came from the back, but not the second floor. ”

They ran together on nearly silent feet. It was difficult to see in the darkened house. The only light came from the windows of Jessa’s kitchen, casting ominous shadows.

“Basement. ” Cole pointed down the hall.

Another scream had Burke running down the hall. His brain assessed the situation, asking all the questions. Was this a domestic situation? If so, how many pieces could he reasonably get Angus’s body into with his bare hands? Or was it an intruder? If so, one or more? What did they want?

Was Jessa still alive? God, please let her be alive.

Cole kicked in the basement door. It was dark down there, too. The sharp scent of chemicals assaulted Burke.

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