Cold Snap, page 1
Cold Snap
Toni Anderson
Contents
COLD SNAP
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Cold Justice World Overview
Also by Toni Anderson
About the Author
Useful Acronym Definitions For Toni’s Books
Acknowledgments
For Kaylea Cross – for being a fabulous friend and wonderful person. And, also, for letting me borrow her dog’s name to use as Brynn’s fictional boyfriend.
COLD SNAP
Cold Justice® – Most Wanted (Book #3)
Grady Steel returns to the insular community of Deception Cove, Maine, where he spent his troubled youth unfairly labeled the town’s bad boy. Now a member of the FBI’s elite Hostage Rescue Team, Grady is on a risky undercover mission, hunting one of the FBI’s Most Wanted fugitives.
* * *
Recovering from a broken marriage, Brynn Webster comes home to the sleepy small town—where nothing ever happens—to help her parents run their seaside cafe during her mother’s illness. After diving into the frigid waters of the winter harbor to rescue a dead man, Brynn begins to realize that the ocean isn’t the only place swirling with dangerous undercurrents.
* * *
Grady befriends the pretty manager of the local cafe in an effort to unearth the town’s closely guarded secrets. Deceiving Brynn isn’t easy, though, especially when he starts to fall for her. Then, when decades-old crimes lead to modern-day murder, Grady’s mission becomes a race against time as he strives to catch a ruthless killer—before Brynn becomes the next victim.
* * *
Cold Snap is the third book in the Cold Justice® – Most Wanted series, featuring agents from FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team.
* * *
All books standalone.
* * *
Sign up for Toni Anderson’s newsletter to receive new release alerts, bonus Cold Justice® stories, and a free copy of The Killing Game:
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1
January 22
Fri., 8:00 a.m. FBI HRT morning briefing
FBI Hostage Rescue Team Operator Grady Steel leaned back in one of the hard plastic chairs with his arms crossed and his legs stretched out under the table as he listened to the big boss debrief them on their last op in the Arizona desert two nights ago.
Grady had been there on the ground, and his teammates had filled him in on anything he’d missed. He already knew the details. Gold Team had been lucky overall, luck earned by training their asses off on a daily basis, but lucky, nonetheless. No deaths. No serious injuries. Lots of bad guys neutralized, one way or the other.
Meghan Donnelly and Seth Hopper had both suffered minor injuries. Hop had fractured a bone in his foot, but the guy had limped in here this morning with a grin the size of Texas on his butt-ugly face.
Grady glanced at his buddy and rolled his eyes.
Shook his head.
Love made people stupid.
“We found a defect in Operator Donnelly’s chute that was responsible for the malfunction at lower altitudes. We’re conducting a review of all the equipment to make sure the other chutes are fully operational so nothing like this happens again.”
Grady glanced at Donnelly as she sat there stony-faced. The defect had made her smash into a canyon wall after a nighttime HAHO jump. She could easily have died or broken her neck, but, thankfully, aside from being winded and suffering some nasty bruising, she’d been unhurt. Grady suspected the life-threatening danger and minor injuries weren’t what bothered her most.
She might not show it, but Grady knew she was feeling relieved and vindicated that there was tangible proof it hadn’t been her fault.
Donnelly was like him.
She’d scrapped to get through Selection with every ounce of grit and determination she possessed, and then, afterward, when she’d finally made it, she was still not a hundred percent convinced she deserved to be here. Donnelly was the first female operator to make it onto the Hostage Rescue Teams, which meant she’d worked twice as hard as everyone else to get here. The pressure not to fuck up must be intense.
Especially when she doubted herself.
It was hard to explain that unsettling mix of bone-deep self-confidence walking secretly hand-in-hand with a perfectly disguised and well-hidden sense of insecurity. It kept you on your toes, that was for damn sure.
The two of them shared an equipment cage, and he was slowly getting to know the taciturn operator.
She was solid.
He liked her.
But she, like him, in a small corner of her brain that she would never admit to, probably feared that at some point, someone would realize a mistake had been made and throw her off the teams. It was his recurring nightmare, but he was finally starting to believe.
That this was real.
That he belonged.
Daniel Ackers cleared his throat.
The director of the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team didn’t join the daily team briefing very often, but when he did, he liked the sound of his own voice. “Given the events of January so far, we want to make sure everyone talks to psych. Schedule a meeting within the next two weeks, or we will do it for you.”
Ackers met Grady’s narrowed gaze before flicking to Cowboy. Ryan Sullivan was openly scowling.
“This is mandatory,” Ackers continued.
Grady kept his expression neutral and his protests locked behind his teeth. He hated shrinks. They all did. The fact the assigned shrink was a pretty blonde was the only saving grace. Still, Grady would rather do cold weather exercises in the high Arctic than have his head examined.
Aaron Nash, an assaulter on Gold Team’s Charlie squad, glanced at his watch. “Less than ten days of January left. The sooner this month is over, the better.”
A-fucking-men.
Grady swallowed the thick knot in his throat that wanted to garrote him with grief. He refused to let it.
He’d learned long ago that any show of weakness was punished. He was alive. He was healthy. He had his dream job, where jumping out of helicopters and blowing things up was all part of a day’s work. He was fortunate, and he didn’t intend to fuck it up. He planned to enjoy it for as long as he could and then retire to join a fugitive task force in one of the big cities, chasing bad guys and kicking ass until he couldn’t keep up anymore. He had no idea what he’d do after that. Buy a boat and sail around the world? Set up whale watching tours the way he and one of his childhood friends had once dreamed? As long as it didn’t involve Florida or golf, he’d figure it out.
He covered a yawn.
They’d been working nonstop for weeks.
Grady was looking forward to spending the weekend sleeping. Except, he’d offered to take Grace Monteith’s kids to swimming lessons on Sunday morning. The widow of his friend and former teammate was pregnant with her third kid. The team had rallied in general support, but Grady knew from experience it was practical help that made a real difference. There were plenty of people to hold her hand. He’d be the one painting the walls and driving the kids around whenever he was home.
Ackers finally wound down—no new information regarding Kurt Montana’s ill-fated flight out of Harare—and Gold Team leader Payne Novak took over the briefing. A knock on the door had Novak pausing.
Grady hiked a brow. Weird. No one interrupted the daily briefing unless it was life and death.
The door opened and two FBI agents in business suits stood with their badges out, sour expressions on their unsmiling faces. One of them held a piece of paper.
Uh oh. Someone’s in trouble.
Everyone shifted as the words “arrest warrant” floated above the urgent whispers.
Someone had definitely fucked up.
Grady didn’t shift, but he frowned. Either a member
Grady stretched his neck and stared at the ceiling. More drama. He hated drama.
The two agents made their way along the side of the room, weaving through the bristling bodies that stood along one wall. Everyone was holding their breath, wondering who the hell had screwed up.
Then Grady caught Novak’s worried gaze and an icy wave of fear flooded every cell in his body.
No. No way.
A moment later, he sensed the short, white, blonde female agent stop behind him and dread crawled up his spine and expanded into his mouth.
“Grady Steel,” she said. “I’m Agent Ropero. This is Agent Dobson.”
What the fuck?
She removed her cuffs from her pocket. The big Black agent beside her watched him nervously.
“I’m arresting you on—”
Grady bolted to his feet. “The fuck you are.” He glanced around at his teammates, looking for the tightly controlled amusement that would say this was some sort of elaborate joke they’d constructed for his birthday tomorrow. “Is this supposed to be funny?”
His teammates looked anxiously uncomfortable.
“This is not a joke, Operator Steel. We have reason to believe you were involved in a hit-and-run incident a few days ago that left a senior citizen dead.”
Grady reared back. He had no clue what the hell they were talking about. No way would he fail to report an accident or to assist a person who’d been injured. He glanced around in confusion, and some of the operators refused to meet his gaze.
Did they genuinely believe he’d killed someone with his truck and then lied about it? Bitterness soured in his stomach.
Ryan Sullivan came over. Gripped Grady’s arm. The two of them often butted heads, but they were good friends. “We’ll get this sorted out. Don’t say a fucking thing until your attorney turns up.”
“I don’t have an attorney.” A cold steel bracelet wrapped around Grady’s wrist and cinched tight as his hands were drawn behind his back.
Agent Dobson removed Grady’s firearm, and Grady gritted his teeth to stop from smashing the other man in the face. The agent was only doing his job—poorly, but whatever.
Grady was innocent. Resisting arrest wouldn’t look good no matter how wrong and unfair this all was.
“I’ll make a call and get someone with you ASAP.” Ryan grabbed his shoulder and stared hard into his eyes. “Do not say a word, understand? I know you didn’t do this. There’s been some error, but don’t say a word without legal counsel.”
Grady nodded, but he was so thrown by what was happening he didn’t have a clue as to what the next step might be.
He met Novak’s piercing gaze as he walked from the room. Was that belief or condemnation written in his boss’s eyes?
Grady’s entire world was burning to the ground before him. Everything he’d ever dreamed of was slipping out of his grasp and fuck if he knew why.
2
Shame seared Grady’s insides as the two agents marched him past his silent colleagues. He held his chin at a belligerent angle. No one would see him crawl.
He wanted to lash out but knew that would end with him being reevaluated as a team player. No, he had to suck this up and treat it like a training exercise he had no intention of failing.
It wasn’t the first time he’d worn cuffs.
Donnelly broke the screaming tension. “Don’t worry, Grady. We know this is a mistake. We’ll sort it out. You’ll be back in no time.”
Her public support made him want to choke up, but he hid it behind an expressionless mask. Noise erupted behind him, but he was led away too quickly to hear if he was being defended or crucified.
Despite his training, sweat broke out down his back and made his thin black t-shirt stick to his skin.
They didn’t stop to pick up his gear, not even a jacket. His phone buzzed like a bee in his side pocket.
The two agents put him in the back of a Bucar and drove him to a building on campus that had been used last week as taskforce headquarters during the hunt for a vicious serial killer.
Dobson opened the car door and let him climb out on his own. Crows flew overhead through the branches of the winter-bare trees, disturbed by the sound of gunfire from a nearby FBI Academy shooting range.
At least there wasn’t anyone around to witness his humiliation.
Ropero tugged him by the arm and hustled him inside. Grady could have smashed her against the wall and disarmed her, even while wearing cuffs, but he wasn’t sure he could take them both without someone getting shot.
Whatever his self-delusion, this wasn’t training. This was real. To them, he was the bad guy and he had nowhere to run except to his own doom.
He needed to keep his cool, no matter how much he felt like a caged animal.
A brief thought about his father flitted through his mind but he pushed it away. That asshole deserved everything he’d received. This debacle wasn’t justice. This was a mistake of epic proportions. He just needed to prove it.
They escorted him upstairs to a place that looked very much like an interrogation room. Table screwed to the floor. Three chairs.
“I want a lawyer. I’m not talking to you guys without a lawyer.”
The big guy closed the door and stood in front of it with his arms crossed and his expression troubled. The blonde pulled out her handcuff key and unlocked Grady’s cuffs. Grady rubbed his wrists as he stared in surprise at her serious face.
“You don’t need a lawyer, Operator Steel,” Agent Ropero stated.
Grady bristled because only an idiot would talk to law enforcement without legal representation. He opened his mouth to argue.
Agent Ropero cut him off. “You’re not under arrest. You’re not wanted in relation to any hit-and-run. You are free to leave at any time.”
Grady frowned. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“No joke.” Ropero glanced at her partner then walked slowly around the table and sat. “We needed to talk to you.”
“Ever heard of cell phones?” He slipped his out of his pants pocket and put it on Do Not Disturb.
Part of him wanted to test the truth of her words and get the hell out of here. Curiosity kept him rooted to the floor.
Ropero opened a folder and slid out a headshot of a man in his early thirties. It was a photograph Grady saw every day at work.
“What we’re about to say to you is top secret and mission sensitive. You cannot share this with your friends.”
Friends? He’d be lucky to have any after this fiasco. Grady still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t some elaborate prank the guys had set up. If these two started stripping, he was going to lose his fucking mind.
“We need your help to catch one of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives. Someone the Bureau has been chasing for twenty-seven years.”
His stomach started to settle. Grady craned his neck to see what else was in her folder but the contents were hidden. “Eli Kane?”
Ropero looked surprised. “You know the case?”
