Bait by Karen Robards Page B

please?” McCabe reached for her arm again. This guy obviously wasn’t used to hearing the word no. His fingers slid around her elbow, making her glad for the long sleeve of her jacket, which kept him from touching her skin. As his grip tightened, she felt as if the marble walls of the lobby were closing in on her. Suddenly, she felt like she was suffocating.
    Déjà vu all over again, she thought with a stab of near hysteria. Here was one more FBI agent doing his level best to intimidate her. Only this time, it wasn’t happening. This time, she was all grown-up.
    The thought put some steel back in her spine.
    â€œSorry, Mr. Special Agent, I really am in a hurry.” Her voice was cool as she pulled her arm free for a second time. “What is it, exactly, that you want to know?”
    McCabe’s lips compressed with obvious displeasure. His eyes darkened, seemed to weigh her. Whatever he saw in her face must have convinced him that the only way he was dragging her off somewhere was if she went kicking and screaming, because he didn’t try to grab her again.
    Which was a good thing. Making a scene was the last thing she wanted to do. Although, if she had to, she would.
    He glanced around as if to assure himself that no one except his oversized friend was near enough to overhear, took a step forward, and lowered his voice. “You were a guest at the Holiday Inn Express on Peyton Place Boulevard last night, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    He was crowding her. Maybe deliberately, maybe not. Either way, his nearness made it an effort to breathe. Stepping out of his path was not an option. With the wall at her back, she had no place to go.
    â€œCan you tell me what happened?”
    Between shattered nerves and no sleep, she wasn’t quite operating on all cylinders, and she knew it. Still, his interest made no sense. She knew the kinds of things the FBI investigated, and an attack on an anonymous woman that hadn’t even resulted in significant injury was way beneath their notice. Was there something here that she was missing? Or were they playing with her?
    The thought was galvanizing. It made her palms grow damp.
    Don’t panic, she warned herself even as she looked at him warily.
    â€œSince when does the FBI care about stuff like that?”
    â€œSince now,” he said. “Could you just answer the question, please?”
    For a moment their eyes clashed, and the issue hung in the balance. But answering his questions was probably the quickest way to make him go away, Maddie realized, and what she wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world right at that moment was for him and his partner to do just that.
    Just keep it short and sweet.
    â€œA man attacked me in my room.” She swallowed before she remembered that swallowing hurt. Quite above and beyond her reluctance to have anything whatsoever to do with the FBI, recalling the previous night’s near-death experience was not something she wanted to do. If luck, God, whatever had not been on her side, she wouldn’t be here now. She would be in the city morgue, with a tag reading Madeline Fitzgerald tied to her toe. “Look, I’ve already gone over this with the police. It should all be in their report.”
    Never mind that the only reason she had talked to the police was because they had shown up at the hospital and she had been left with no choice. And the only reason she had gone to the hospital in the first place was that Jon had taken advantage of her shocked state to take her there. Mr. Special Agent here didn’t know that. All he would see was that in the aftermath of the attack, she had done just exactly what any other upstanding citizen would be expected to do: go to the hospital, talk to the police.
    McCabe ignored her attempt to dismiss him. “What time did the attack occur, exactly?”
    Maddie made an impatient gesture. “I don’t know. I realize it was shortsighted of