Abandon - Carla Neggers [41]
She melted into the line exiting the Jetway. Her side ached, but as much as she wanted to go straight home, she had one stop to make first.
Bernadette Peacham had asked to see her.
A taxi was in order tonight, Mackenzie thought as she made her way into the crowded terminal. She could have called any number of people for a ride, but she’d kept her flight arrangements to herself. She was bedraggled and wobbly. If she had a good night’s sleep, she was confident she could be her usual kick-ass self by morning.
But as she stopped to figure out which way to turn to reach the terminal exit, Andrew Rook eased in next to her, catching her totally by surprise. He was in jeans and a lightweight jacket, and he was heart-stoppingly sexy, looking neither bedraggled nor wobbly.
“Allow me.” He took Mackenzie’s backpack from her shoulder. “All those pink swimsuits and dolphin towels get heavy, don’t they?”
“Rook, if you told anyone it was a pink suit—”
“I didn’t have to.”
“It’s all over Washington, isn’t it?”
“The suit. Not as many people know about the dolphin towel.”
Small comfort, she thought. “What are you doing here? How did you find out what flight I was on?” She stopped herself and sighed. “Damn FBI.”
He smiled. “We aim to please.”
Although he was dressed casually, it was a Washington crowd at Reagan National Airport. Anyone paying attention would peg him as an FBI agent. That she hadn’t the night they’d met still stuck in Mackenzie’s craw. No one would see her and think, Deputy U.S. Marshal. Certainly not tonight, with her hair yanked back in a loose ponytail and her baggy, casual attire covering up her bandages for the flight. She had dark circles under her eyes from pain and four nights of near sleeplessness as she’d tried to figure out who her attacker was, and rehashed all she’d done wrong.
Free of the backpack, she picked up her pace and said good-naturedly, “I liked you better when I thought you worked for the IRS.”
He ignored her. “My car’s in the parking garage. Do you want me to get you a wheelchair?”
“Since you have zero sense of humor, I assume you’re serious. No, I do not want you to get me a wheelchair. If you want to do something for me, flag me a cab.”
“Not a chance, Deputy.” He glanced at her, his eyes darker than usual. “If I let you take a taxi and you tripped in the dark and loosened a couple of stitches, I’d be in big trouble.”
She stopped abruptly. “Who put you up to this? Gus? Did he call and tell you I was on the way?”
“I called him.”
“Why?”
“To check on you.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and she resumed walking, telling herself not to expend any energy trying to figure out Special Agent Rook. “Maybe that was your cover story with Gus, but you have an agenda that has nothing to do with my health and well-being.”
With his free hand, Rook dug his car keys out of his jacket pocket. “Were you this cynical when you were a college professor?”
“Instructor. I was never a professor. And I’m not cynical. I’m realistic.”
When they reached his car, Mackenzie was out of breath, which irritated her. But four days of a downsized workout or none at all had taken its toll. She’d get up early and do some kind of exercise before she went into work, stitches or no stitches.
Rook tossed her pack onto the backseat of his car. “If it’s any consolation, Gus didn’t suggest I pick you up. He said if I did, I should treat you right.”
“He raised two nieces—he has a good eye for men like you.”
“Men like me? Carine’s married to a pararescueman. Antonia’s married to a U.S. senator and former rescue helicopter pilot.”
Mackenzie frowned at him. “You’ve done your research. Do you know Antonia? She lives in Washington.”
“I think she might have checked me out for a concussion once.”
Mackenzie wasn’t sure what to believe. Antonia, the middle Winter sibling, was an emergency room