But none of that mattered if she didn’t let him get close.
Her eyes darted to his hands. Empty. She let out a breath, but it caught when she spotted the telltale bulge at his hip. No way was she giving him a chance to go for the weapon. She dropped her briefcase and files fast, yanking her Glock pistol from its holster. “Hands up!”
“Whoa!” He lifted his hands near his head. “Look, I—”
“Higher. Get on your knees.”
“Hey, I didn’t—”
“Now!” Ella took a step closer, let him see the dead seriousness in her eyes, the solid, steady aim of her gun. “Pull your weapon out with your left hand. Toss it over here.”
“Crap.” He complied, getting on his knees and sending his own Glock skidding across the pavement toward her.
“You have any other weapons on you?”
“No. Look, I’m a homicide detective. I flew up here from Florida to talk to a profiler.”
She narrowed her eyes, noting the slight Southern drawl in his voice now that she wasn’t laser-focused on containing him. “How’d you get in here?”
“The guard let me in. My badge is in my pocket, okay?”
Ella frowned. With the regular guard on maternity leave, maybe the newbie had broken protocol. “Fine. Toss it to me with your wallet.”
He let out a breath through his nose, something like amusement in his voice. “Wow, you’re thorough.”
He was right about that. At the BAU, her job was to create criminal personality profiles of the country’s most depraved killers. Every day, her work told her what one inattentive moment, one second of blind trust, could cost.
It was a lesson she’d first learned nearly ten years ago, when her best friend had been violently attacked. It had introduced Ella to a kind of evil she’d never known existed, and completely altered the path of her life. Now, viewing everyone as a potential threat seemed almost normal.
He tossed his wallet and badge over, but even before she picked it up, she knew it was the real thing. Still keeping her weapon leveled on him—mostly for scaring the crap out of her and making her dump her case files all over the ground—she flipped open the wallet to his ID. The face staring back at her, with its hard lines and no-nonsense stare, looked every bit a homicide detective. “Logan Greer. Oakville, Florida.”
Reholstering her weapon underneath her blazer, she tossed the wallet back and tried to slow her heart rate to normal speed. “Way to make an impression, Greer.”
He gave her a smile full of self-deprecating humor that made her realize again that the bulky size that had unnerved her in the darkness was impressive muscle tone, that beneath the piercing stare were moss green eyes. She was a sucker for green eyes. Too bad she hadn’t run into him on the beach next week with a margarita in her hand instead of on her last day before vacation, toting a gun.
As he gathered his badge and weapon, Logan asked, “And you are...?”
Ella brushed her bangs out of her eyes and extended her hand. “Special Agent Ella Cortez, BAU.”
“Perfect,” Logan said, giving her another hit of that one-sided grin as he took his time shaking her hand. “Because I need a profiler to look at my homicide case.”
Ella pulled her hand free and collected the files scattered on the pavement. “You’re gonna have to go through channels.”
“I did that.” When she started to walk past him, he put a hand on her arm. “Please. Look, they wouldn’t assign anyone to it.”
Ella sighed, frustration warring with sympathy. He’d flown here for help and she knew if her boss had already refused, he would get shut down again. Getting a profiler assigned meant that the case needed one. The most likely reason Logan hadn’t gotten help was because he had a case where the killer would logically come up without resorting to a profile.
She couldn’t take this on even if she weren’t about to leave on vacation. Even if she were allowed to pick her own cases. She already had more files stacked up than she could possibly handle with the attention they needed in her regular ten-hour days.
“Sorry.” Ella didn’t look at him as she dumped her briefcase and files in the trunk of her car.
“How is your office supposed to know whether I have a serial killer from a one page form?” There was frustration in Logan’s voice, but steel underneath. “I’ll wait as long as I have to, but I need help on this.”
“I’m the last one out. Everyone else has already gone home.”
He stepped around in front of her, leaning against her car between her and the driver’s door, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “I’ll wait here until tomorrow if I have to. But wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if you took a look? Please, just hear me out. An hour of your time. That’s all I’m asking. Just take a look at my case file. Give me something I can take home and use, before the bodies start piling up.”
When she heaved out a sigh and looked up, he shot her a determined stare, as if he could get her to agree through force of will alone. She stared back into his imploring green eyes, which were close enough that she could see little flecks of gold around the edges of his irises.
She didn’t have time for this. And she needed to get away from case file after case file of vicious murders. She needed those two weeks at the beach with her two best friends, while they all tried to distract themselves from the anniversary coming up too fast, the one they all wanted to forget.
She needed to have dinner, then pack and make her way to the airport. Of course, three weeks of late nights trying to get ahead of work before taking time off meant her refrigerator was stocked only with condiments. She looked into Logan Greer’s green eyes and heard herself say, “Tell you what. You can buy me dinner and while we eat, I’ll look at your case.”
The genuinely grateful smile he flashed her sent unexpected shivers of awareness over her skin that reminded her she hadn’t had a date in months. Another casualty of the job.
Wow, she really needed this vacation.
* * *
“TEN O’CLOCK IS a little late for dinner. Is the FBI opposed to meal breaks?” Logan asked, one eyebrow quirked, as she scarfed down French fries as if she hadn’t seen food in weeks.
In the light of the little diner, which Ella frequented because it reminded her of something she’d find back home in Indiana, Logan looked a lot less like a potential threat and a lot more like the kind of guy she’d try to flirt with in the grocery store. The kind of guy she’d be tempted to chase after, no matter how it would inevitably end.
Wearing jeans and a faded gray T-shirt, with a five-o’clock shadow heavy on his chin, he looked exactly like her type. Laid-back attitude, but intensity in his eyes. Masculine, but judging by the easy way he was teasing her half an hour after she pulled her gun on him, secure enough not to find her intimidating.
Of course, that was her initial read on him. Given that her longest relationship in the past had lasted a whole five months, she’d decided she was far better
