by Julie Miller
“…not bringing the dogs back here tonight, are we?”
“No. We’ll leave them in the Sterling and Wyandotte shelters for tonight. Anita, make sure we have the charts for the acute cases.”
Holden followed the voices through a swinging door into a lab and examination area. An older woman was directing her staff. “I already have Liza securing the pharmacy. I’m not going to risk any break-ins tonight. Reynaldo, I need you to…”
With an acknowledging salute, Holden left them to their work and pushed open the door marked “Pharmacy.” He shouldn’t have breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Liza’s heart-shaped bottom wiggling in the air as she bent over an open cooler, but he did.
She popped up, startled by the sound. Her pale cheeks were flushed when she spun around. “Kincaid? You’re not supposed to be here.”
Though she held her defiant chin high, the tension on her face made her mouth stiff, her eyes a dull battleship gray.
Holden never paused, never broke stride. He walked straight across the room, pulled off his black S.W.A.T. cap and plopped it onto her head, tugging it securely over the short wisps of her hair.
“Red hair makes an easy target.”
He wasn’t the only one breathing a sigh of relief. A smile suited those pretty lips better than that tough survivor frown had. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad to see you?”
“I hope not. Because the feeling’s mutual.” His answering smile faded when he reached out to touch the nick on her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Are you hurt?”
He could have sworn her skin trembled beneath his touch, but she pulled away so quickly he couldn’t be sure.
“We all have little cuts and bumps.” She went back to pulling bottles of pills and liquids off the shelves and packing them into the cooler. “We were still evacuating the last of the big dogs onto the transport truck when that crazy man—I mean, I’m assuming it was a man—shot out the main window. But the EMTs checked us out. There were no serious injuries.”
“Did you see the shooter?”
She paused for a moment, then made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Not this time.”
Her skin had gone pale beneath its dusting of freckles as she stretched up to get a second cooler off the top of the medicine cabinet. Holden moved in behind her, easily reaching over her head to retrieve the cooler. “Let me.”
As she rocked back onto her heels, she butted up against Holden’s chest. He heard a sharp catch of breath—maybe it was Liza’s, maybe it was his own. He was instantly aware of a chest-to-groin heat that seared through his flak vest and clothes. He should have retreated. Instead, he propped the cooler against the wall with one hand and pulled her close to ease any lingering doubts he might have that she was unharmed.
But Liza had a saner notion of propriety and protocol. With an unnecessary apology, she ducked beneath his arm and scooted away to open a refrigerator door. Holden set the smaller cooler on top of the first one, and stepped aside to let her fill it with vials from the fridge.
“I did take the phone call when the bomb threat came in. That was definitely a man’s voice. It was low-pitched and resonant, like yours, but…” she paused with her fist resting on the top shelf “…cold. Like there was no emotion there whatsoever.”
She pulled the last of the meds out and nudged the door shut with her hip, suddenly energized, suddenly apologizing.
“Your voice isn’t like that at all. It has a warmth to it. It can be annoying, but, that’s usually what you’re saying. When it’s soft, the tone of it is almost…soothing.” She was that close to being dead and she was worried about hurting his feelings? The lurch in Holden’s stomach felt a lot more personal than the idea of losing a link to his father’s murder.
“This guy sounded like Shakespeare-meets-the-Terminator, but you could be a—”
“It’s all right, Parrish.” He caught her jaw beneath his palm, stopping the rambling apology—and the deeper sense of fear and uncertainty she was revealing. He stroked his thumb across the point of her chin. “It’s all right.”
Her eyes sparkled with some unnamed emotion. “Is it? I’ve seen so much violence, I can’t…How do you handle it?”
He needed her to be out of this place. Now. He needed Liza somewhere safe.
“Come on.” The instant Liza closed the top cooler, he pushed it into her hands. Then he picked up the larger one. “Where do these go?”
“Dr. Friedman parked her van in the back. This way.”
He followed her down a hallway lined with kennels to the back door. But he stopped her before she could open it.
“Wait.” He stacked the coolers on the floor and reached for the Velcro straps at either side of his black flak vest.
“What are you doing?” He pulled the vest over his head and dropped it over hers in one smooth motion. “Kincaid?”
He straightened his cap on her head and reached around her to secure the straps over her white lab coat. “There’s a guy with a gun out there, remember?”
She ripped open a strap in protest. “But it’s okay for you to get shot?”
“I wasn’t the target.” He covered her hand and latched the strap.
Whether his words or his touch bothered her, he couldn’t tell. But she quickly pulled away and picked up her cooler. “You think he was shooting at me? Putting all these innocent animals and people into danger because of me?”
“It’s too soon to tell.” She swam in his vest, like a little girl playing dress-up in her daddy’s clothes. But to Holden’s mind, it was a good fit. “Silencing or scaring a murder witness so that she won’t testify? Wouldn’t be the first time.” Holden opened the door and headed into the alley. “Stay close.”
She followed right on his heels, opening the back of the van and showing him where to store the medical supplies. “I heard at least six shots. That guy wasn’t shooting at me. Other than the front window, he never came close. Unless he’s a lousy shot.”
“He wasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
He slammed the van shut and turned on her. “Because I’m a sharpshooter. I saw his setup. I saw the shots he could take and the ones he did take. He’s trained. Military, cop, hit man, I don’t know. If he wanted you dead right now, you would be. This is some game he’s playing, and I’m not going to take the chance that you’re the one he wants in the middle of it.”
She propped her hands at her hips, squaring off against him. “Because I need to stay alive to testify against your father’s killer?”
“Because you need to stay alive, period.”
“Look, we hardly know each other. What right—?”
It was a bright light, not a gunshot that stopped the debate. “Doctor?”
Liza squinted and turned toward the television camera. “Me? Not quite yet. But Dr. Friedman’s inside if you need a vet.”
Holden took Liza’s arm and pulled her behind him, putting his body between her and the blond reporter. “Get that camera out of here.”
“I’m Hayley Resnick, Channel 4 News. Could I ask you some questions?” With a strength of will that belied her movie-star pretty face, she darted to one side and focused her plea on Liza. “Miss? Were you a victim of the bomb threat? Can you tell us anything about why someone would target these defenseless animals or someone who works here?”
Holden felt Liza’s response in the clench of her fists at the back of his shirt. “You think this is about the animals?” she whispered.
“No, I don’t. Hey!” Holden adjusted his stance, pushing Hayley back and giving her cameraman the high sign to kill the light and stop rolling the film. “This isn’t a good time for an interview.”
But Hayley kept pushing. “So this is personal? Have you received threats before?”
“I’m supposed to remain anonymous,” Liza spoke against his shoulder. “Detective Grove promised.”
Holden stretched his arms behind him, hugging Liza to his back and turning to keep her hidden. “There
are others who can give you better information about today’s events, Ms. Resnick. I suggest you try elsewhere.”
The reporter shifted her attention to Holden, gracing him with a practiced smile. “You’re Atticus’s brother, aren’t you?”
“I know who you are, too, lady. And you’re trouble, according to A.” He threw his arm around Liza and tucked her to his side to walk her out of the alley. Hayley had once dated his brother, then taken advantage of his connections at KCPD to further her career. Oh yeah, Atticus was a lot better off marrying a class act like Brooke than this conniving piece of work. Hayley Resnick needed to get out of Holden’s face. “Ms. Parrish has no comment.”
Leaving the stymied reporter behind them, Holden hurried Liza around the corner to the side street where the S.W.A.T. van was parked. He opened the back doors and lifted her onto the back bumper. “Get inside.”
Liza paced off the length of the narrow passage between their gear and weapons cache while Holden closed the doors behind them. “I’m tired of being bombarded with questions,” she raged. “From KCPD. From my therapist. From you, and now that woman. I can’t answer every damn one of them. I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired.”
“Hey. Hey.” Holden caught her flailing arms and pulled her to his chest, holding her tight until the tantrum and frustration had worked their way through her system. With a weary huff of breath, Liza finally relaxed, turning her cheek into his shoulder and leaning against him. The hard plates of the flak vest masked the curves of her figure. But there was plenty of woman to hold on to as she nestled her head beneath his chin. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and slid the other down to the swell of her hips.
Holden feathered his fingers through the silky fringe of hair beneath the cap she wore, breathing in the citrus-like scent of her shampoo and the sharper, medicinal smells that clung to her clothes. He whispered apologies for adding to the barrage of questions that weighed with such pressure on her. Her breathing evened out as he continued to talk, and she snuggled against his throat. “Nobody’s going to hurt you in here. Nobody’s going to ask you to do anything. You’re safe now. It’s quiet here. Quiet and safe.”
His own erratic pulse and turbulent thoughts had calmed during these few moments of tender stillness. But when she pulled back to free her arms and wind them around his waist and move even closer, his heart rate shifted into a higher gear. The vest was cold and stiff against his chest and stomach, but farther down, where their hips and thighs touched, they were generating an amazing heat. It was impossible not to imagine the conflagration that full-on body contact with this woman would feel like.
“I’m not supposed to like you, Kincaid,” she whispered against his collar. “I’m not supposed to even know you.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever read Romeo and Juliet?”
He laughed, and he thought he could feel her cheek plump with a smile. “My mom’s an English teacher. Where do you think I got a name like Holden Caulfield Kincaid?”
“Seriously?” She tipped her head back to meet his gaze.
“My brothers are Edward Rochester, Thomas Sawyer and Atticus Finch Kincaid. So yeah, I get that I’m a Montague and you’re a Capulet.” He released one hand just long enough to pull his S.W.A.T. cap off her head so he could read her expression in the van’s shaded interior. “I also get that I like you, too.”
Liza’s fresh, angelic face—momentarily free of attitude or suspicion—was smiling. “Thanks for the rescue, Romeo.”
Those peachy lips were parted in anticipation, and, like a hungry man, Holden couldn’t resist. He leaned in, brushed his lips against hers. Her taste was sweeter than he’d imagined. And when she lifted onto her toes to press her lips more firmly against his, the spark of that first kiss was hotter than any embrace he’d ever shared with a woman.
Holden tangled his fingers into that sassy, silky hair and pulled her even closer. Moaning with surprise and absolute approval, he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue and ventured inside to deepen the kiss.
The scrape of metal on metal jarred Holden from the unexpected pleasure of that kiss, reminding him that nothing could come of it—that he was only guaranteeing trouble for them both if something should come of it. The outside handle on the van turned, and Liza froze. Holden released her and reluctantly retreated as the back door opened.
Kevin Grove’s bulky frame and disgruntled mood filled the opening. Lieutenant Cutler, Dominic and the rest of his team were gathered behind the detective, looking up at them with everything from reproach to amusement. Grove looked from Holden to Liza and back to Holden again. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it, Kincaid?”
Feeling more than a little disgruntled himself at the interruption—and at allowing the situation to get so personal in the first place, Holden couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his reply. “If you mean securing the witness? Keeping her away from the press? Then, yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“That’s why you…?” Liza’s voice faded away and an invisible armor thicker than the S.W.A.T. vest she wore lodged into place. Her hair fanned out in a sexy disarray, as though a man’s hands had been in it. But she quickly smoothed each spike back into place. “Thank you for your concern, Officer Kincaid.”
“Parrish—”
But she was already pushing him aside and reaching for Grove’s hand to help her down from the van. “Mr. Kincaid helped me evade a reporter in the alley behind the clinic. But I’m sure she’s gone by now. I’d better get back inside to help pack up supplies.”
Holden instinctively moved forward when Grove didn’t release Liza’s hand. “I can’t allow you to go back in there, ma’am,” said the gruff detective.
“But I have to help out. We have to get the clinic cleaned tonight, or it won’t be safe to bring the animals—”
“No, ma’am.” Grove cut her off. “You’re done working for today. Lieutenant Cutler? I need your team to escort Ms. Parrish to the back of my car.”
Holden jumped down from the van. With a gentle tug on her arm, Grove released her, but she shook off Holden’s touch as well. Well, hell. She could misread his motivations and be pissed off at him all she wanted, but Holden wasn’t going to let Grove order her around as though she was a suspect instead of a victim. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s not responsible for any of this.”
“I’m taking her downtown until we can confirm this wasn’t an attempt on her life.”
“Is that what you think?”
Grove ignored Liza’s question and mirrored Holden’s defensive stance. “I’m just like you, Kincaid. I’m trying to keep her safe. Do you have a problem with that?”
Holden held his gaze for as long as he could before the lieutenant could call him on it. “No, sir.”
“Good. Cutler?” Grove pushed Liza into the triangle formed by Dom, Trip and Delgado, then jogged ahead to clear the path to his vehicle.
Lieutenant Cutler was only slightly more sympathetic. “Keep it together, big guy. You’re no use to me if you’re not thinking straight. You’re no use to her, either.” He tapped the center of Holden’s chest. “Now put on a spare vest and let’s get Ms. Parrish downtown.”
Uploaded by Coral
Chapter Six
Mr. Smith sat in his room at the historic Raphael Hotel at the south edge of the Plaza, miles away from the fun he’d had earlier this evening. With the extra pillows plumped at his back, and the cabernet sauvignon breathing on the bedside table, he sorted through the names in his file.
He stopped on the picture of the pretty redhead whose bio said she was 25, but who looked ten years younger with that tomboy haircut and freckles.
Mr. Smith picked up the cell phone in his lap and punched in his employer’s number. When the phone picked up, there was no greeting, just, “I have her. Liza Parrish. She’s your witness.”
“So your plan worked?”
“A S.W.A.T. team escorted her away from the scene.” It was proof eno
ugh for him that he’d exposed the right woman. “Shall I take care of the situation?”
“Give me twenty-four hours to see if I can find out how much she’s told anyone. I’m tired of loose ends on this project. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow night at this time, I’ll expect you to eliminate her. All trace of her.”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY’RE talking about in there?” Holden sat on the corner of Atticus’s desk at the Fourth Precinct office, swirling cold coffee in the bottom of his plastic cup.
Atticus pulled off his glasses and swiveled in his chair to look at the conference room where Liza, Detective Grove, the assistant D.A., Lieutenant Cutler and almost a dozen other officers and civilians had gathered behind closed doors. “After three hours? I’m guessing they’re talking strategy. Whether she’s a witness who’s important enough to warrant moving to a safe house. How viable the threat is against her, and what spin they’re going to put on this with the media.”
“She needed to be in protective custody six months ago.”
Atticus loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, a sign of just how long this day had gone on. “I’ve gotten the sense all along that she’s been reluctant to tell Grove everything she knows. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to get involved.”
A woman who rescued three dogs from the pound? Who wanted to go back inside a clinic where a bomb threat had been called in to help clean up the mess? A woman who charged across the street to confront a man she thought was following her? Who stretched up on tiptoe and deepened a forbidden kiss?
Liza Parrish wasn’t afraid to get involved. Not that copper-haired spitfire. There had to be something else going on here. But what?
“Mom was good when you saw her?” Atticus asked.
“What? Yeah.” The abrupt change in topic startled Holden from his thoughts. “She was having Uncle Bill over for dinner. Edward showed up, too.”
“No kidding. How was he?”
