A MAN TO TRUST

by Justine Davis

  "Cruz?" she said, smothering a sudden yawn.

  "Mmm?"

  "Thanks … for listening."

  He kissed her in answer, a soft, gentle kiss just in front of her left ear. She sighed, drifting, warm, safe. And when sleep claimed her, it was deep and dreamless and soothing, and finally free of the nightmares that had haunted her for so long.

  * * *

  Thanks for listening.

  Cruz blinked rapidly at the sting of moisture still pooled in his eyes at her gratitude for such a simple thing. Especially since his heart was clamoring out a thank-you of its own, to her, for finally trusting him enough to pour out that awful, beautiful story. A story she clearly had not told often, if ever. No wonder she seemed so serene; her life here must seem like paradise compared to what she'd known.

  When he felt her slip into sleep, it was all he could do not to clutch her so tightly to him that she would undoubtedly wake up again. He settled for kissing her again, softly.

  He was so full of so many emotions that he couldn't begin to sort them out. He suspected he hadn't really absorbed the magnitude of what had happened here tonight. The unrestrained fire that had raged between them was enough in itself, requiring a stunning reevaluation of everything he'd ever thought, ever assumed, about sex and passion.

  But to his surprise, the fact that she had gifted him with enough trust to tell him her story meant as much as the physical intimacy that she had granted him, and that rattled him. As did the realization that he felt a powerful sense of pride in what she'd done, in her courage and determination, a pride so strong he knew it could stem only from feelings he hadn't quite admitted to yet.

  But as she slept in his arms, he knew he couldn't deny the pride he felt, or the gratification the simple gift of her trust gave him.

  Thanks for listening.

  They had shared a passion, an intimacy, like nothing he'd ever known in his life, yet she'd thanked him for the simple act of listening to her unburden herself. She had been so understanding, so right, when he told her about Ellie, she'd known exactly how he felt, and she'd helped him to finally face it, to finally deal with the anger he'd carried around for years … but she'd thanked him for simply listening.

  He shook his head in wonder, at all of it, at her, at himself, at them together. And caught his breath at the surge of sudden emotion, half thrill, half wariness, that shot through him at that seemingly natural linking of them as a couple.

  Was he ready for this? Could he really—

  The noise that cut off his thoughts was short, sharp and loud. He went rigid. Immediately, instinctively, he started assessing. From his right. The side of the building. Not metallic, not glass … wood.

  That sticky latch finally broke.

  Kelsey's words—and his own neglected promise to wedge that door shut—whirled through his mind.

  Another sound, softer, a muffled scraping. Movement. Eliminating the possibility that something had simply fallen. Movement meant something had to be there to move. Something alive. Or someone.

  Damn, his gun was in the truck. Safely locked in the glove box. For a moment, he regretted the compromises he had to make for Sam's safety, but only for a moment. He tried to move without waking Kelsey, but they were so tangled up together it was impossible.

  "Cruz?" she said sleepily. "Was that…?"

  "Shhh. Stay here."

  He moved more quickly then, rolling over her to get to his feet. He grabbed a poker from the fireplace set and started moving toward the sounds.

  "Cruz?" She was awake now, sitting up, clutching the blanket to her naked breasts, her voice echoing with a concern he had the fleeting hope was for him. But he waved her to silence without speaking and kept moving.

  He reached the inner door of the storeroom. He stood to one side, holding the poker as if it were a police baton, ready to move in any direction. Then he shoved the door open.

  A small, rapidly moving shape barreled hard into him. They both hit the floor with a resounding thud.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  « ^ »

  "Melissa!" Kelsey's voice rang with relief. "Thank God you're here."

  The girl crouched in the corner where she'd sprawled after the collision. The blouse she wore was too small, and Cruz could see the swell of her belly now.

  "I only came back because I thought you were gone," she said, her voice tight. "I was tired of sleeping in crash pads that smelled bad."

  "I've been so worried," Kelsey said, kneeling beside the girl.

  "Sure." Melissa sneered, pulling back as she eyed the blanket Kelsey was wrapped in. "I can see how worried you were."

  Then her gaze flicked to Cruz, who stopped rubbing at his aching shoulder where it had hit the floor and suddenly realized he was stark naked. He didn't trust Melissa not to take off if he risked going back to the great room for his jeans, so instead he kept an eye on her over his shoulder and reached into the storeroom to grab a towel, hastily knotting it around his hips.

  "So now what, cop?" Melissa said, in the tone of false bravado he'd heard so often from scared kids.

  "Melissa," Kelsey said, "he's been helping me look for you."

  "I'll bet he has."

  "Listen to me, he's kept it unofficial, even though it could get him in trouble. He wants to hear your side of it."

  Melissa looked at them both, and then, with a cynicism that should have been beyond her years, she said, "You're just saying that because you're sleeping with him. You had sex, so you decide you trust him. That's how you rationalize it. I've been there."

  Cruz glanced at Kelsey, and his stomach knotted at the fleeting expression of doubt that crossed her face. He looked back at the teenager.

  "You have it backwards, Melissa," he said softly. "It is and should always be the other way around. You only have sex with someone you trust."

  She seemed startled, whether by the idea or by the fact that he'd said it at all, he couldn't tell.

  "And I trust him," Kelsey said, with a certainty that eased his tension a notch. It wasn't all he wanted from her, but it was a start. "You can trust him, too."

  Melissa hesitated, then shook her head. "No. He'll have to tell my folks, and he'll make me go back. Maybe you trust him, and I can even see why you slept with him, but he's still a cop."

  Kelsey blushed at the implication, and Cruz found himself feeling a bit disconcerted as the girl eyed his bare chest and legs. But Kelsey quickly recovered and went on.

  "They want you back, Melissa," she said. "We saw them this afternoon, and they're very worried."

  "You … saw them? And they said that?"

  She nodded. "Your mother is very anxious to have you home—"

  "If you're going to try and tell me my father wants me back, you can forget it. I know better."

  "He's…" Kelsey's words trailed away.

  Cruz guessed she was hesitant about denigrating the girl's father, but Cruz had no such qualms. The story Kelsey had told him had pressed every hot button he had about parenting. There was no way he could undo any of the hell she'd gone through, but he could make sure it didn't happen all over again to Melissa. And in that instant he realized exactly why Kelsey was doing this, why she was so determined to help kids like she had once been.

  "Your father," Cruz said flatly, "is a bully. He controls his little world by intimidating anyone he has any power over."

  Melissa turned then, her eyes widening as she stared at Cruz. He guessed she'd never heard another adult speak of her father this way; maybe it was past time she did.

  "Most bullies," he went on, "are that way because inside, they're afraid. They think this is the only way they can make people notice them, that the only way they can feel on top is to keep others down."

  Melissa's mouth gaped open. Cruz pressed his advantage.

  "He can't bully me. Meet with them, talk to them, but with Kelsey there on your side. And let me … mediate between you."

  "Mediate?" She looked at them both do
ubtfully.

  "Make sure it doesn't get ugly," Kelsey said.

  "And make sure you get heard," Cruz said, and knew he'd hit a chord by the look that flickered in Melissa's troubled eyes.

  Again the girl hesitated, but again she shook her head. "I can't go back there. It's… I just can't."

  "I know," Kelsey said. "It's their turf, their power base, and you feel … less important there, because you always have been." The girl flashed Kelsey a look of gratitude for her understanding. "Do it here," Kelsey said. "On neutral ground."

  For the first time, hope showed in Melissa's face. But it was clearly warring with doubt.

  "I have a better idea," Cruz said. "Given your father's attitude, and his nature, I think it might have a … beneficial effect to do it on my turf. Make him come to Trinity West, my station. Very formal. Interrogation-type atmosphere. I can make it … very intimidating for him."

  "You'd … do that?" Melissa whispered.

  "With pleasure," Cruz muttered. "I hate bullies."

  "But wouldn't … I have to go home with them?"

  "There are other solutions, Melissa," Cruz said gently. His gaze flicked to Kelsey. "It's not quite like it once was, where the parents' home is assumed to be the best place for any child to be. There are other options. We'll make sure you have a choice."

  The girl seemed stunned, for the moment beyond deciding or even speech.

  "Tell you what," he said, pushing on while he had the chance, "let's go for a ride, and you think about it. I have to go get my little girl anyway."

  "Sam!" Kelsey exclaimed, her head snapping around to look at the clock. "Cruz, I'm sorry, I completely—"

  "So did I," Cruz said, giving her a swift grin that made her blush. "It's all right. Ryan and Lacey aren't leaving for their weekend away until morning."

  "You have a daughter?" Melissa asked, apparently distracted from her own dilemma.

  "I do," Cruz said, amazed yet again at the preconceptions people had; did they really think cops were automatons, not human beings with families and feelings? He knew the answer too well, but it still astonished him sometimes.

  "And she's adorable," Kelsey said sincerely.

  "When she's not being too smart for her own good, and mine," Cruz agreed. He saw the look that crossed Melissa's face then, and added quietly, "But even when she is, I love her beyond measure. She's the best thing I've ever done in this life."

  When he saw his point had registered with the girl, he went on. "So what do you say? Come with us? Sam's got to get home and feed her zoo. I'll feed the raccoon, the rabbits and the possum, but I will not feed that damned snake."

  Kelsey laughed. Melissa stared. "Your little girl has … a zoo?" the teenager asked.

  "That she does," Cruz said wryly. "And if I don't get her home, I'm going to get stuck with taking care of them."

  "Well, maybe…" Melissa glanced at Kelsey. "If you're going too."

  "It will give you time to think, to decide what you want to do," Kelsey said reassuringly.

  Melissa gave Cruz one last uncertain look. "You … really won't make me go back if I don't want to?"

  Cruz took a breath, wondering if he was going to get himself into real trouble before this was over. "If we can't resolve this with your folks, we'll find another way. Somehow."

  The look Kelsey gave him then was more than enough payment for whatever minor professional risks he might be taking by making promises he wasn't sure how he would keep.

  * * *

  "I fed Frisbee," Cruz told Sam, "so just take care of the rest, okay?"

  "Okay," Sam said cheerfully. Then she eyed Melissa. "Wanna help?"

  Kelsey held her breath. The teenager looked intrigued, although she was clearly trying to fight it. When she first saw the menagerie, she'd turned to stare, not at Samantha, but at Cruz.

  "You let her … do this?"

  "I even pay for it," he'd quipped.

  "But … even in the house?"

  He'd become very serious then. "I love her," he said. "And this is what she loves doing most. Of course I let her."

  Melissa had stared at him, the wonder in her face speaking worlds about how foreign this was to her. And Kelsey wondered herself if Cruz had any idea how special a father he was.

  "Well," Melissa said now, in answer to Sam's question, "I guess I could help."

  In a few moments, the teenager was cuddling a baby rabbit and looking not much older than Sam as she fed it a lettuce-leaf treat to go with the pellets Sam carefully measured out.

  Kelsey glanced at Cruz, who was lounging with one shoulder against the doorjamb, watching his daughter. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had, at the sound of an intruder in her home, turned from tender lover into fierce defender; she would not soon forget the image of him, no less dangerous for his nakedness, moving without hesitation toward the threat.

  She would not soon forget many images of him from last night, she thought ruefully, and now that she knew just how beautiful he was, she was having a hard time not picturing him as he'd been then, naked, aroused, utterly male … and wanting her.

  His gaze flicked to her, and before she could look away she saw the knowledge of what she was thinking flash in his eyes. There was a sudden tautness around his mouth, a sudden tension in his body, and his head came up like that of a wolf scenting his mate.

  She felt her cheeks heat at the wild thought and finally managed to look away. At first, when Melissa intruded on their intimacy, she'd been relieved that she wouldn't be facing the typical morning-after awkwardness. But now, when she realized she had no idea exactly how becoming lovers was going to affect their relationship—if, indeed, there was such a thing—she was beginning to see some value in whatever they might have talked about.

  Sam and Melissa had moved on to the next cage. "He's cute!" the teenager exclaimed. "I thought they were ugly."

  "It's the possum tail," Sam explained kindly. "Because it looks like a rat's, people think they're like them."

  They were chattering as if there were six months' difference between them, rather than six years. Partly because of Sam's precociousness, no doubt, but also, Kelsey guessed, partly because Melissa found the simple innocence of the child and the animals very appealing. In any case, she was as relaxed as Kelsey had ever seen her.

  A shrill beep made them all jump, all except Cruz, who calmly looked down at the beeper on his belt. Without any perceptible change in expression, he excused himself to make a call. When he came back, Kelsey saw a tightness in his jaw that made her pulse pick up.

  "Why don't you check on Slither?" he said to Sam.

  Sam lifted a brow in a very adult manner. "What happened to 'that darned snake'?"

  "He still is that darned snake," Cruz said. "But as long as he's here, he gets taken care of."

  "Does this mean he can come back inside?" the girl asked, reverting to ten-year-old pleading. "He's been in the garage all week."

  "Maybe," Cruz said.

  Kelsey smiled inwardly as Sam gave him a grin that would certainly have melted her resolve in an instant. Cruz was going to have his hands full in a few years, she thought. And felt a longing to be there to see Sam grow into the lovely, self-confident woman she just knew she would be, a longing that she feared was futile, and that she tried to suppress.

  "That was Trinity West," he said abruptly when the child was out of earshot. He looked at Melissa. "They had a message from your parents. Sutter's apparently been watching the house, waiting for you to show up. He saw us there this afternoon, and a couple of hours ago he broke into the house and came after them with that knife of his again."

  Melissa paled. "Oh, God. He didn't … hurt them, did he?"

  So there was something beyond hatred there, Kelsey noted, but it was only a brief thought, as Cruz went on.

  "No. But he scared them badly. Enough so that they told him who Kelsey and I were."

  Melissa gave Kelsey a wide-eyed look of distress. She tried to reassure the girl, but
inwardly her mind was racing, trying to remember everything that had been said that afternoon. And when the crucial memory registered, and her eyes shot to Cruz's face, she knew he'd remembered it, too.

  "The inn," she breathed. "I told them the name, and where it was, when they asked where I'd seen Melissa."

  "I know," Cruz said.

  "But … we're not there," Melissa said, confused.

  "But this address is," Cruz said grimly.

  Kelsey bit back her own exclamation of distress; Doug Sutter clearly would not be above burglary, and not only was Cruz's registration card still in her office, it was sitting nicely out on the desk where she'd left it when she scribbled down his address to return the sketchbook. Sutter wouldn't even have to search.

  Then Cruz began to speak swiftly, and Kelsey knew she was again seeing the cop in action. "We'd better get to Trinity West right now. It took some time for them to determine just how urgent the message was and to page me. He could have as much as three hours' start by now."

  More than enough time for Sutter to get here, Kelsey thought.

  "Oh, God," Melissa moaned. "I should have listened. My dad said Doug was trouble, but … I thought he loved me. He said he did, and he wanted to be with me, no one ever had before, and—"

  "It's too late to worry about that now," Kelsey said, with a briskness she hoped would hide her own dismay. "We need to get you to the Trinity West station, where you'll be safe even from Doug. Let's get your—"

  The scream that came from the garage froze them all for a split second.

  "Sam," Cruz hissed. And in that split second Kelsey saw terror flash across Cruz's suddenly pale face. It was the mere blink of an eye before he whirled and was gone, so swiftly it left Kelsey feeling sluggish and slow, despite the fact that she was right on his heels.

  She nearly collided with his back as she ran into the garage. She could feel the tension in him as if it were a tangible thing, could sense that he was barely leashed. And in the next moment she saw why.