Wanted (FBI Heat Book 3) Read Online Free

same number. He shook his head. The damn telemarketer should get a raise for perseverance alone. But enough was enough. He grabbed the phone.
    “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. Quit calling me.”
    As he pulled the phone away from his ear, ready to slam it on the table, he heard a woman’s faint voice. “Dillon?”
    Who knew two syllables could pack such a punch? But they did and knocked the wind right out of him.
    “Dillon?” came the barely audible voice again. “Are you there?”
    Although the words were a whisper, he identified the caller instantly. Slowly, he placed the phone back against his ear and said the only word his paralyzed brain could produce. “Yeah.”
    She didn’t answer for several seconds, and before she did, he heard her gulp. Twice.
    “It’s me. Kat. Katriona MacKenzie.”
    What the hell? How many Kats did she think he knew? There had been and always would be only one Kat in his life.
    When he didn’t respond, she spoke louder. “Dillon? Can you hear me?”
    “Yeah,” he managed again around a boulder in his throat. Lame, lame, lame. After two years and what she’d done to him, he should have more to say to her. A lot more.
    “Am I…interrupting…anything?” she asked hesitantly.
    God, he wished he could say something like Yeah, I’m in the middle of screwing my wife’s brains out or I’m on the other line with the president or I’m busy saving the world. But he was just watching football. Alone. So what could he say? “No,” he muttered, the tightness in his chest threatening to choke off his single-syllable words entirely.
    “Uh…how are you?”
    Thank God, her words sounded strangled also.
    “Um, I’m great. Awesome, in fact. Never been better.” He cringed and closed his eyes. Shit, that was over the fucking top.
    “Good. I…I’m really glad.”
    “You?” Damn, back to single syllables. And he still couldn’t breathe right.
    “I’m…okay.”
    Then she stalled. He sensed Kat was losing her courage, but he’d be damned if he would make it easier for her.
    She sighed heavily. “This was a mistake. Sorry to bother you, Dillon. Bye-o.”
    And just like that, she was gone. But not without a last dagger to his heart by using their special good-bye. Breathing raggedly, he sat with the phone at his ear for several seconds before lowering it. Had the call been real or was it the byproduct of wishful thinking? He pushed his head back against the recliner cushion and stared at nothing.
    His simply furnished living room disappeared, and he was suddenly standing at the altar in the church in San Francisco. The collar of his tux was too tight, and he was sweating like crazy. Despite his nerves, the stupid grin on his face was so wide that his cheeks hurt. Steve, Kevin, and Jeff stood in a line beside him, all four of them peering down the long aisle toward the door through which his bride would walk. The bridesmaids were on the opposite side of the altar, teary-eyed, but beaming too.
    The pews were full of friends and Kat’s family. Since he didn’t have any relatives, they’d foregone the normal seating division. The air smelled of some sweet, flowery fragrance, and the organ played softly in the background. The hum of whispered conversations filled the church as anticipation swelled.
    He waited and waited and waited. The guests began to fidget and turn to stare at the back of the church also. Then suddenly, the side door near the altar opened.
    His face as stark white as a wedding dress, Kat’s father stood in the doorway, hanging on to the doorjamb for dear life. “I’m sorry, Father John. You…uh and…Dillon…we…uh…need to talk.” He gestured for them to come with him.
    The look on Craig MacKenzie’s face made Dillon’s heart drop to his feet. Even though he had seen Kat, healthy and whole, a short while ago during the photo session, he imagined her, broken and bleeding, injured, or worse. Inexplicable panic set in, and he ran from the