Night Sins Read Online Free PDF Page B

ran into some unforeseen complications moving in,” she said crisply. “I'm ordinarily very punctual.”
    Mitch nodded.
I'll bet you are, Agent O'Malley
. He kept his gaze steady on hers, searching for a reaction to the physical contact. Her gaze was cool green ice. He could almost feel the shields go up around her.
    “It wasn't a problem,” he said, absently combing a hand back through his thick tawny hair in an attempt to tame the havoc wreaked by the stocking cap.
    “So you're Leo's replacement.” He cocked a brow and tried to visualize her without the mega-parka. “Well, God knows you'll be easier to look at.”
    The remark struck like flint against steel, sparking off Megan's frayed nerves. “I didn't get the job because I look good in panty hose, Chief,” she said, cutting him a wry look.
    “Neither did Leo, thank Christ. There are some things I can go my whole life without experiencing. Leo Kozlowski in lingerie is right up there on the list. He was a hell of a guy, though, Leo. Knew every good fishing hole for a hundred miles.”
    Megan had never felt that was one of the more crucial talents a field agent should possess, but she kept her opinion to herself.
    Rehearsal had been declared officially over. The participants drifted out the door, Natalie bringing up the rear like a shepherd. A couple of men called good-byes back to Mitch. He raised a hand to acknowledge them, but kept his attention on Agent O'Malley.
    He wondered if she realized the tough-cookie act was more intriguing than if she had been skittish. It made him wonder what was behind the shields. A thread to play with just to see how it might unravel. It was his nature to work at puzzles, a compulsion that suited his profession. He let the silence hang, to see how she would react.
    She held his gaze and waited him out, her head cocked to one side. Casually she brushed back the wisps of dark hair that had escaped her ponytail. Its color made him think of cherry Coke—nearly black with a hint of red. Exotic in this land of Swedes and Norwegians. Aside from the stubborn set of her chin, she most resembled an escapee from a convent school. Her face had that earnest quality usually reserved for CPAs and novice nuns. A pale oval with skin like fresh cream and eyes as green as the turf in Killarney. Pretty. Young. Mitch suddenly felt about ninety-three.
    “Well,” Megan started. What she needed was to end this conversation, retreat, regroup, come back tomorrow, when she was feeling stronger and he was dressed in something more than long underwear. “It's late. I can come back tomorrow. We'll have more time. You'll have pants on. . . .”
    He grinned the crooked grin. “Are you uncomfortable with this situation, Agent O'Malley?”
    Megan scowled at him. Her eyelid ticked, ruining the effect. “I'm not in the habit of doing business with men in their underwear, Chief Holt.”
    “I'll be happy to take it off,” he said, scratching his arm. “It itches. Come on back to my office and I'll climb out of this sausage skin.”
    He started for the door of the conference room, reaching a hand out as if he meant to sling it around her shoulders. Megan shied sideways. Her temper boiled up, rattling the lid on her control. She was feeling tired and testy, in no mood to deal with yet another come-on or innuendo.
    “I am an agent of the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, Chief,” she said, fighting to hang on to her last scrap of humor. “I served two years on the St. Paul police force, seven years on the Minneapolis force—five of them as a detective. I've been a narc. I've worked vice. I have a degree in law enforcement and have passed the agent's course at Quantico. I really don't think the taxpayers would be getting their money's worth if I came here in the capacity of sex toy.”
    “Sex toy?” Mitch leaned back, brows raised, caught somewhere between amusement and insult. “Perhaps I should rephrase my suggestion,” he said. “You may wait in