Free Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) by Toni Anderson

floor?”
    “Eight.”
    “Which room?”
    She reached into the side pocket of her purse and handed him a key card. He looked at it. 801.
    He led the way, made her stay back while he did a rapid search of the room. It was empty. He figured these guys had people scouring all the local hotels and had gotten lucky. Chances were the guy under arrest had notified his cronies and they’d be on their way over, but they had feds and cops covering every floor and exit. His colleagues were staked out on all the nearby roads, watching and waiting for a bunch of bad guys to arrive on the scene. Even so he didn’t intend for Vivi or her son to be here if anyone slipped through the net. “Get dressed. Quick as you can.”
    “What about you?” she eyed his wet clothes.
    Thankfully his overcoat and feet were dry. That would have to do. “I’ll be fine until we can get to the local field office. I have other clothes in the car I can change into there.”
    She started drying her son’s hair, but he put his hand on her waist and nudged her aside. “I’ll help Michael. You get dressed.”
    Her pupils flared in an instinctive reaction to his touch, something animalistic that no one could control. He felt it too and it pissed him off. He did not want to get his job tangled up with emotions. Not this time. They all had far too much to lose if he didn’t bring his A-game to the field.
    Then her expression shifted to surprise—which pissed him off even more. As if no one had ever offered to help her before. She nodded, suddenly as mute as her son, grabbed a handful of clothes and went into the bathroom. Jed stripped the kid, dried him, and pulled dry clothes on him. He rubbed himself down as best he could with a towel, ignoring the discomfort of his own wet skin. He wasn’t about to wander into work wearing a robe. He’d never live it down.
    Next he packed the Vincents’ belongings. Stuffed everything he found in the drawers and wardrobe into the medium-sized suitcase—pausing for a second over the scraps of silken underwear in the top drawer. A knot of something uncomfortable tugged inside him. These bits of colored satin reminded him she wasn’t just a victim, she was a strong, beautiful woman whose life was about to take another nosedive after a seriously shitty day. There was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t like it. And he really didn’t like knowing it was this particular redhead who’d been caught up in this web of hatred and cowardice that put her and her son in danger, and that he’d played a part in it. Because now it was personal and he didn’t like that either.
    This was what his boss was always warning him about. Personal was when you let people get too close, and it ended up screwing with your perspective and objectivity.
    Not gonna happen this time.
    Michael lay curled up in a ball on the floor. Jed threw everything he could find in the case without folding it. They had to get out of there fast.
    Vivi came out of the bathroom looking more like her former poised, assured self. Her hair was slicked to her skull emphasizing her pale features, and tied back in a braid. She frowned at the case, then went back in the bathroom and came back zipping a toiletries’ bag. She tossed it in, then swept a hand under the pillows for night clothes and a stuffy that she pushed into Michael’s arms.
    “Put his shoes on for me, will you?” she asked him.
    Jed nodded.
    Out of the corner of his eye he saw her pack up her laptop and charger, then ease her feet carefully into winter boots—fresh spots of blood stained the thick socks she wore, but she didn’t slow down to deal with it. “Where are we going?” she asked.
    “I don’t know yet.”
    She eyed him distrustfully. It seemed to be her default mode. They had that in common, but he was law enforcement. What was her excuse?
    “Is there a Mr. Vincent I should contact?” Shit, he hadn’t even thought about it earlier. There hadn’t been any need. She didn’t