see that he knew who she was, Kylie would quit lying. Then he could protect her properly. And he would get her to admit she was having feelings for him, too, feelings that went beyond craving a good fuck. “I know she won’t stop working the case. But you have no clue. Kylie is one hot, petite little number. Whoever decided to send her after a monster all by herself needs his head examined.”
“You go right ahead and tell her that,” Noah suggested, this time his laughter deeper, louder, as if he’d just heard a good joke. “I know a lady cop who just loves hearing that because she’s hot as hell and sexy to boot she shouldn’t go after the bad guy. Let me know if your woman can kick ass as well as mine can.”
Perry barely listened. He sat at his computer, typing in various versions of Kylie’s name, along with the words “agent” and “FBI,” until he found what he needed.
“Donovan,” Perry said out loud.
“What?”
“She isn’t Kylie Dover. Her name is Kylie Donovan.”
“Man, let it go. Just go solve your case.”
“Do you know her?”
“You know I can’t confirm that. Furthermore, this conversation never happened.”
Perry knew he had it now. “It’s cool, man. What are friends for.”
“Uh-huh. Talk to me once you’ve solved this case.”
“Will do.” Perry hung up the phone. It was time to read up on Miss Donovan.
Special Agent Kylie Donovan had one hell of a track record. He wasn’t able to find so much on the Internet, other than random newspaper articles, when he did a search on her name. But when he logged onto the special Web site allowing him exclusive access to crime history and a search engine designed to focus on criminal history, Agent Donovan appeared as much as any agent.
She was in fact twenty-seven years old, from Dallas, TX, and the only surviving daughter of Kent and Deirdre Donovan. The password-protected search engine pulled up a lot more articles that were successfully buried in the Internet available to the general public. Government agencies might not be able to curb reporters and different forms of media across the nations, newspapers, magazines, blogs on news channel Web sites, from reporting facts they’d just as soon not have as public knowledge. There were ways, however, to make it hard for names to pop up when a search was done. It was a process that Perry didn’t know a lot about. What he did know was that if he truly wanted information on someone, logging onto the Web site offered through his line of work proved the most effective and the least hassle.
“Impressive, Donovan, very impressive,” he said, leaning back in his office chair in his den and stretching. It was almost four in the morning, and sleep was a long way off. Especially with adrenaline pumping through him with a vengeance. “You’ve nailed quite a few sexual predators in your time.” In fact, it was obviously her area of expertise.
He opened another file, which was an article dated thirteen years ago. It wasn’t about Kylie Donovan but Karen Donovan a teenage girl found raped and murdered in Dallas, TX. Surviving family were her parents and younger sister, Kylie.
Perry blew out a staggered breath, scrubbing his head with his palms while his eyes burned from staring at his screen for so long. He stood, feeling the kinks in his muscles, and twisted his torso a few times while contemplating his next move.
“You’ve got the facts, Flynn. Now what to do with the knowledge.” He spoke the words, but there wasn’t any doubt in his mind what he would do.
There were options. Breaking into her home again was one. He could show up over there and knock on her door, let the cameras record him arriving. Although now it made more sense why they seemed to be set up more for surveillance than protection. It also made sense why she didn’t want him in that middle bedroom or running a check on her gun. Kylie worked undercover. But part of her was real. He’d seen some of her true colors. The most recent being her running barefoot across her lawn after him when he walked out on her.
Maybe she couldn’t tell him she was working the Peter case, but she was able to show him that she didn’t want him walking out of her life.
Perry picked up his phone and scrolled to her number, which he’d recently entered. Then finding his earpiece, he pushed the send button and listened as it rang.
“Hello,” she said, sounding out of breath, when she answered on the second ring. Kylie wasn’t sleeping.
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“Who is this?”
“Special Agent Kylie Donovan, this is Lieutenant Perry Flynn. We need to talk.”
Chapter 17
Kylie tripped over her foot walking to her car. “Crap,” she hissed.
“Yeah, crap,” Perry said in her ear. “Where are you?”
She sighed, reaching her car and staring at the field office, which was dark and appeared very closed in the middle of the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It better rain soon; the humidity was worse than anything she’d experienced in a while.
“Getting ready to head home,” she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her.
Sitting with Paul, going over ISPs and listening while he explained how a Web site could be tracked to an “address,” basically showing where it was created, didn’t help her mood. When, once again, it became apparently clear that whoever Peter was, he was working out of the computers located inside the police department, she got pissed.
Then Paul suggested it was an interesting coincidence that whenever she finished talking to Peter, Perry showed up. That’s when she walked out the door. If Paul wanted to camp there all night, that was fine with her. But she wasn’t hanging around any longer and listening to bullshit.
“Stop by here. I’m at Three Twenty-seven Elm Street.”
Kylie unlocked her hybrid and slipped behind the wheel, feeling a wave of light-headedness hit her. “It’s late, Perry.” She wasn’t sure she could take him on right now. If she went over there, she doubted they would do much talking.
“You can come over here, or I can show up at your place and whoever is monitoring your house will know when I show up, and when I leave,” Perry added, letting the last words he said fade into a dark promise.
In spite of how tired she was, her insides tightened with the need he’d created in her earlier when he’d kissed her senseless. “I’ll be over in a few.” She hung up, unwilling to listen if he started in on her for all of the lies she’d told him. She was doing her job.
Starting her car, she put a shield up around her heart. This couldn’t get personal. Once this case was solved she would leave town. It was probably best Perry understood that now, before he started assuming there was more than what she could offer. And regardless of Paul’s speculation, Kylie wouldn’t buy into Perry being a possible suspect. For years she’d been tracking sexual predators, creating profiles. Perry wasn’t a criminal. Most definitely possessive, aggressive, and demanding, but those were very common traits found in detectives. Other men as well, but Perry’s nature fit who he was, a single cop with a sister who had daughters. They were his world, and he was their protector. He would slip Kylie under that balloon, too, if she let him. And what a comfortable spot to be.
Kylie punched his address into her navigating device on her dash. The female voice started instructing her where to turn, her soft monotone enough to lull Kylie off to sleep if she dwelled on it. Thinking about Perry and the case kept her alert, though. Perry could blow her cover if she wasn’t careful, which was why she agreed to go over there. They would talk; she would learn where he stood, and make her decisions from there. The last thing she wanted to do was pull herself off this case, though. Worse yet, she would die if they took her off the case. In the years she’d been with the FBI, she’d never fucked up any case she’d worked on. Her track record was perfect. It had to stay that way. No matter what.
Her navigation device brought her to a quiet neighborhood where she envisioned older couples, their kids already moved out, yet for whatever reasons their parents hadn’t moved into smaller homes. The yards were all oversized and neatly mowed. Trees larger than the houses shrouded the neighborhood, adding to the peaceful
