She gazed at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding. You expect me to sit around waiting for you, spinning my wheels? Stay in D.C. as long as you want. I’ve always done very well working alone.”
“I know you have.” He paused. “But we both know this case is different. The killer wasn’t just targeting those victims. He was targeting you. He has you in mind when he’s planning his murders. Who knows what’s next?”
She didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything to say. She had been thinking the same thing.
She said it anyway.
“We all have a pretty good idea what’s next,” she said quietly. “It’s on one of those bulletin boards at the FBI field office.”
They drove in silence back to her condo. Why in the hell did Lynch’s imminent departure bother her? She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anybody.
Twenty-four hours earlier, he was the furthest thing from her mind. Now she was feeling all out of sorts because their hours-old partnership was suddenly interrupted, and he was off to intimidate some D.C. crook?
Because he was right. This case was different. And she might hate to admit it, but it felt good to have that sledgehammer by her side.
He pulled in front of her building and let the engine idle for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve got my number. Keep me posted, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And Kendra…”
“Yeah?”
He leaned forward and kissed her squarely on the mouth.
She tensed. What on earth was he doing? Her first instinct was to recoil. Her second was to press closer. The second instinct won out. She was kissing him back, she realized.
Strength. Warmth. Safety.
She had subconsciously expected any touch or overture from Lynch would involve sex and passion judging what she knew of him. Not this feeling of being guarded, treasured. It confused her …
He finally pulled away. “Say it,” he said warily.
“I’m not going to put you on the spot.” She had to catch her breath and steady her heartbeat. “I know it was an impulse on your part. A gesture to express your regret that I’m going to have to go it alone. It was very … friendly, and completely unnecessary.”
“I’m glad you’ve been able to analyze my mind-set and actions so thoroughly,” he said with irony. “It’s a shame that you can’t be sure whether you’re right or not. That could be very frustrating.” He gave her another kiss on the tip of her nose. “Be careful,” he whispered.
She quickly climbed out of the car and almost ran into her building without looking back.
* * *
“WHAT IN THE HELL?”
Kendra actually said the words aloud after she entered her condo and plopped down behind the desk. Lynch’s impromptu kiss had left her bewildered and out of sorts.
And admittedly aroused.
That sexual response had come out of nowhere after she had carefully detailed the reasons why it couldn’t be that kind of reaction or caress. Or perhaps it had been waiting below the surface, submerged by her surprise that Lynch had acted in a way that she considered out of character. As she had left him, she had suddenly been swept away by a physical jolt of pure lust that had sent her running. It shouldn’t have startled her, she told herself. From the moment she had met him, she recognized that Lynch was a force with which to be reckoned on all levels. She had just experienced one of the more primal levels, and it made her a little dizzy. The essential maleness and sexuality of Lynch, the feel of him.
Probably just the reactions he was going for.
And yet it hadn’t seemed calculated. Lynch’s actions were generally designed to achieve a specific result, but this one seemed spontaneous, beyond the realm of any rational thought. And that last kiss on the tip of her nose had been definitely big brotherly.
To hell with him. She’d be damned if she was going to spend the next couple of days trying to figure out what it meant, when he probably didn’t even know himself. Especially when bikini-model Ashley was out there waiting to jump back into his bed.
Kendra pulled the flash drive from her pocket and plugged it into her computer. She perused the document files, both for the current investigation and collections of Web forum posts devoted to her and her cases.
She knew from her e-mails just how fascinated some people were about real-life murders, but she was still amazed at the level of obsessive interest on display. There were dozens of true-crime forums, she discovered, each populated with scores of people who traded opinions and insights over the cases that were hot in the media at any given time. Their fervor was such that they might as well have been discussing favorite sports teams.