Maggie Price - The Cradle Will Fall

He slid one hand into the pocket of his trousers. As always, he looked as though he could emerge from a mass murder crime scene with an incredibly relaxed air. “Several other CACU agents also had a hand in solving that case. I’m just the one they chose to put out front at the press conferences.”

No kidding, Grace thought. She felt sure he’d been assigned the spot in the limelight on that case because he fit the profile of what the media thought an FBI Special Agent should look like: tall and athletic, with a coolly handsome face and dark hair. Perfectly groomed. Santini possessed the totally centered grace of a natural-born hunter, who looked dashing both on television and in print.

And in person, she admitted grudgingly. His compelling looks had attracted her like iron filings to a magnet when she’d first laid eyes on him six years ago. Then Mark had worked at the Bureau’s Oklahoma City office. She’d just been promoted to detective and had been assigned to the same multi-agency task force as he. The respect they developed for each other’s professional abilities quickly broadened to friendship, and they became lovers, drawn together by a passion that Grace had often sensed seemed stronger than both of them.

Soon after that, Mark snagged the transfer he’d coveted to the CACU, based at Quantico, Virginia. And then he was gone—a man with no roots, no ties, infinitely comfortable with his lone-wolf existence. How different her life with Ryan would have been if she’d stuck to her guns after declining Mark’s offer to move to Virginia with him.

Now here was Santini, intending to work with her again. He’d do whatever job he’d come to do, then be gone. And never once look back. Like before.

This time, though, experience had taught her the value of keeping her priorities straight.

She gave her watch a meaningful look. “Mark, if you could give me a quick rundown on your case, I’d appreciate it. I have family business to take care of this evening that I can’t put off.”

A look crossed his face, a quick shadow that disappeared in one hammer beat of her heart. “How is your family, Grace?”

“Everyone’s fine.” She paused, wondering if his reaction was displeasure over her refusal to drop everything and give him more time tonight. “Josh, Nate and Bran have all received promotions over the past two years. Morgan and Carrie are on the force now. Engaged to OCPD cops.”

His mouth curved. “Is there any member of the McCall clan who isn’t in law enforcement?”

“Mom and Gran are the holdouts.”

“They get points for marrying cops.”

“Yes.” Even as her lover, Mark had shared next to nothing about his past, saying only that his childhood had been wretched. He had never spoken of his parents. As far as she knew, he had no other family so there was no point in asking about the Santini clan. Still, things might have changed. She glanced at his left hand, saw he wore no ring. “What about you?”

He arched a dark brow. “I haven’t married a cop.”

And because she couldn’t stop herself, she countered, “Brenda wasn’t a cop.”

“Brenda.” He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to recall the blond, gorgeous, long-stemmed White House staffer Grace could still picture perfectly. “I haven’t married anyone. The job doesn’t allow much time for a personal life.”

The job, Grace thought, that he was bound to the way he would never be bound to a woman. Mark had made no secret that as far as he was concerned, his priorities lay with whatever case he was working at the time. Always the case. Because of that mind-set, she was relatively sure he considered what had happened between them water under the bridge, but for her it had meant much more.

Just then his pager chirped. He pulled it off his belt, checked the display, then pressed his fingers to his eyes.

“Problem?” Grace asked.

“A call about a child-abduction case I’m working in California,” he said, clipping the unit back on his belt. “My gut tells me it just turned into a homicide.”

“If you’re working it, why aren’t you there?”

“Because my boss called late last night to tell me the director wanted me here. I hopped a plane from California first thing this morning.” He lifted a shoulder. “You know how it is, Grace. In law enforcement, you do what you’re told. Go where you’re sent.”

“That’s why I spent the day cruising a mall parking lot in granny garb,” she commented, then wrapped her arms around her waist. “So, why don’t you brief me on the case that prompted the director of the FBI to send you back to Oklahoma City? And why you went to my chief and specifically requested I work with you?”

“The case is a political hot potato that involves a young woman’s death. Her father has a lot of power, and he’s throwing his weight around, so here I am.” Mark eased back the starched cuff of his shirt to check his watch. “Since I need to call California and you don’t have a lot of time right now, I’ll hold off briefing you until morning. There’s nothing we can do on the case tonight, anyway. As for your other question, I contacted OCPD because I learned long ago it smoothes things considerably to attach someone from local law enforcement to any investigation I work. The reason I requested you is simple. I need a local cop who’s not only good but smart. Someone I can trust not to muck up a sensitive case.”

“Nice to know you have such faith in my abilities.”

“I’ve always had faith in you, Grace. Personally and professionally.”

Since he had never opened up enough to tell her how he felt about her, that was news.

“We have a subpoena to serve at eight in the morning,” he added. “We need to get together earlier so I can bring you up to speed. You can meet me at my hotel at seven, or I’ll come by your place and pick you up. Your choice.”

Grace slicked the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. She was a great believer that the home team held the advantage. Considering that her stomach was grinding and her nerves had settled into perpetual vibration mode, meeting in the morning on her turf was preferable.

“My home.” She gave him the address, then retrieved her file folder off the chair. When she straightened and turned, Mark took a step toward her. Up close, the shadows under his eyes seemed more pronounced.

“I meant what I said, Grace.”

His voice had gone as soft as a whisper on the still air. A whisper that had her pulse thudding hard and thick at the base of her throat. “About?”

“I’m looking forward to working with you again.”

She drew in a deep breath. The longer she spent in his presence, the more her unease heightened. He’d hit the target when he said cops took on whatever assignment came their way—she had no choice but to work with him.

So she would do her job. Period. Even though time had not seemed to dull the physical attraction she felt for Mark, she couldn’t let that matter. Couldn’t let him get to her again. He would be here and gone. As soon as they dealt with his case, he’d be gone.

She had once been close to falling in love with Mark Santini. Had spent years dealing with the endless cycle of guilt tied inescapably to that relationship. She’d paid her dues and wasn’t going down the same road again. The man standing only inches away was past history, and she was a completely different woman—one who was making a determined effort to get on with her life.

She would do better tomorrow, she assured herself. The shock at seeing Mark again would have worn off and she’d be back on level ground. Right now she needed to get away from him, needed time to deal with the fragments of a hundred memories she’d locked away that were now rushing to the surface.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

“Yes.”

Turning her back on him, she headed toward the door. As she moved, she felt his eyes on her, tracking her.

Time passed, she thought. When it did, events and people became larger than they were or smaller. She wanted to believe that this man who’d stepped so unexpectedly from her past into her present had become so small that he was next to invisible. A mere blip on her radar screen. Wanted to believe that Mark Santini was so inconsequential that his presence would have no effect on her future.

The way her heart was pounding had Grace very, very afraid that wouldn’t be the case.

Her face had been an open book, Mark mused the following morning as he steered his rental car through Oklahoma City’s snowy streets. Grace had been shocked to find him standing in her boss’s office. Stunned was more like it. Understandable, considering it had been nearly six years since they’d laid eyes on each other.

Since they’d been lovers.

He tightened his jaw as the wipers slapped a steady cadence back and forth, clearing two fans on the snow-covered windshield. What bothered him—what had eaten at him most of the night—was knowing that when they faced each other, she should have been the only one caught off guard. The only one wrestling with emotion. That hadn’t been the case. Hadn’t at all been what he had expected.

Dammit, he had known she would walk through the door of her lieutenant’s office at any minute. Had anticipated her arrival.

Yet the instant she stepped into view, he’d been hit with a jolt of electricity. He had spent a lifetime moderating his emotions, had built up a level of control so rigid that nothing or no one ever caught him off guard.

Grace McCall-Fox had. Big-time.

Knowing that just the sight of her had made his mouth go dry and his gut clench into knots did not sit well. Granted, she was the one woman—the only woman—for whom he had felt a pull of something far beyond physical attraction. While they were lovers he had chosen not to analyze the intense, mindless emotion that had drawn him to her. It had been a huge enough step for him to acknowledge that his relationship with Grace had been the first from which he couldn’t seem to make a clean break and walk away. So, when the transfer he’d coveted to the Bureau’s Crimes Against Children Unit came through, he’d asked her to move back east with him.

She’d said no. Understandable, seeing as how her world revolved around her large, rowdy family. Then there had been tradition to consider—almost every McCall had served on the Oklahoma City PD. Doing so had been Grace’s lifelong dream, one she found impossible to give up.

He had coolly accepted her decision. Made no effort to change her mind. Logically he knew his promotion to the CACU meant he would spend most of his time traveling, leaving Grace behind in an unfamiliar city. She’d have gotten the raw end of the deal, and he hadn’t blamed her for turning him down.

So, he had walled off the regret that had washed over him, just as he had taught himself to block out all other emotion. He had put the memory of Grace McCall into the far reaches of his mind and immersed himself in his work.

It was only natural she’d crept into his thoughts now and again over the years, but he and Grace had parted on good terms and what was done was done. He wasn’t the only one who had moved on, either. Grace had married a cop—then buried him three years later.

For himself, Mark had spent the past years building his reputation in the law enforcement community, along with unused leave time. He had no roots, no family, no woman waiting for him to return. It was the lifestyle he wanted. He traveled wherever the job took him, primarily from one crime scene to another. He worked case after case, dealing with an endless cycle of abused, kidnapped and murdered children. Child after child, body after body, one malicious crime after another.