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ARRESTING by Cynthia Rayne


Copyright © Cynthia Rayne, 2009
All Rights Reserved, RED SAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

EXCERPT FROM ARRESTING 

 Jasmine Winslow smacked the punching bag again.

“Quite a work out.”

Jasmine turned around to see Mark Truman  standing in the doorway. He was hot, she’d give him that. Earlier, when she’d been straddling him in the car, she’d gotten a little carried away. She didn’t know if she wanted to punch him in the mouth or kiss his lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to talk to a colleague?”

She punched the bag twice. Three times. Trying to keep her tempter in check. “Yeah, well, in case you didn’t get the memo, FBI, you and I are not colleagues. You federal boys are supposed to be better than us poor stupid cops. Right?” She turned to look at him. “That’s why you horn in on our investigations and steal our prisoners right from under us.”

“I didn’t steal anything. He committed a federal crime, so I have jurisdiction. “ He nodded to the bag which swung wildly. “You got one hell of an arm there.”

“Thanks.” She looked him up and down. She really hated to admit it but he rocked that black suit. He was tall, handsome, and just screamed authority and order. Not to mention the fact that he was handsome as hell. And the way he’d touched her. Yowza. He was really good with his hands. “How did you get in here? This place is for cops only.”

“Honey, I’m the FBI, we have our ways.”

“That’s cute, but really, how? This place is locked up tighter than freaking Fort Knox.” When he didn’t answer, she put her hands on her hips. “I’m waiting.”

“Actually, I got a key from your captain.” He lifted it up in the air. “You looked pissed when I last saw you. Thought maybe we should talk, since we were, uh, intimate earlier.”

She laughed dryly. “That wasn’t intimacy, FBI. That was a little sex.”

“Oh? Is that all it was to you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh my God. You came here to finish it, didn’t you? No thanks. I’ve had a violently bad day and I don’t need any crap, especially not from you.”

“Maybe I could make it better,” he offered, moving closer to her.

“I don’t think so. Shouldn’t you be guarding the serial killer?”

“He’s under protection right now. I called in a detail to watch him. We’re flying him up to Pennsylvania in the morning.”

“Goody for you.”

“We got some DNA evidence on him. He snatched a girl from Elizabethtown College there and her body showed up in a ravine, outside of Frederick, Maryland.

She turned her back on him and hit the bag again. “Great.”

“You don’t seem very happy about it, Jasmine. I just told you we are about to put a serial killer away. That’s your name, isn’t it? Jasmine?”

She was still pissed at him. “Yeah, that’s me. You’d think you’d remember a girl’s name after you manhandled her.”

He stood behind the bag. “Well, I think we both did some manhandling, today. If you don’t mind me saying so, you look a little tense.”

She brought one arm to her chest, pulling it tight and stretching her arm muscles, then the other arm. “Yeah, well, I’ve got some serious anger going on. Not to mention adrenaline.”

His eyes raked over her, she could feel him staring hard at her gym shorts and her tank top. “Maybe I could help you with that.”

“I’m not going to fuck you. So don’t ask,” she countered. “I only played a hooker to distract you, so we could get the perp.”

“You made that clear and that wasn’t an offer for sex. I was just thinking we could spar.”

 “Yeah, horizontal sparring,” she quipped. “I didn’t miss the way you eyed me.”

“And how did I look at you?” The agent said, a sly smile sliding across his handsome face. The asshole was toying with her.

“Like you’d like to bend me over one of those machines and have a go at me.”

“You’re direct aren’t you?” He smiled at her. “I like that in a girl.”

She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Mark, I’m in super bitch mode. I really wanted to nail that guy. He snatched two girls from Georgetown and God only knows how many others in the D.C. area. I wanted to take him down today. Get him to confess to the murders.”

“I know.”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. You didn’t see their mothers. You didn’t see what the dorm room looked like.” She shuddered. “He hurt them in their own college dorm room. Blood smears on the mattresses, blood on the carpet, even some on the bathroom floor. God only knows what Stanton did to them before he finally killed them.”

“Why didn’t anyone come to help them?” Mark asked. She noticed the sympathy in his eyes. At least he knew how she felt. His eyes looked haunted, too, as though he’d seen a lot in his time as well. Eyes that were much too old for someone who looked to be in their mid-thirties.

“It happened during a break from classes,” she said. Some of her anger was dissipating. She shouldn’t be taking all of it out on the FBI agent anyway. They were both on the same side. More or less. “You sound like you need to blow off some steam, too. Do you want to spar?”

Plus, the idea of wrestling the big bad FBI man had a lot of appeal. He was hot. Six and half feet tall, dark brown hair and eyes. Body that wouldn’t quit. She wouldn’t mind kicking his ass at all. Maybe it would make her feel better about losing Stanton.

“Let’s do it. Hand to hand? No weapons?”

“You’re on.”

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