Candice laughed, not the least offended by his coarse language.
He drove around, pointed out a couple of historical buildings like the First Broslin Bank that had gone out of business during the most recent financial crisis and still stood deserted. He drove by the old county airport, pointed at the nearest hangar. “They have a good flea market here on Sundays, if you’re around.”
Candice shifted as close as she could without taking her seat belt off. “My plans are flexible.”
“Farmer’s market’s in the other hangar on Fridays and Saturdays.”
“Are you a farm boy?” She reached over and put her hand on his thigh, her blood-red artificial nails a contrast to his faded jeans.
The nail tips were slightly curled, reminding him of talons. “Farming family.”
The Kesslers had been living in Broslin for generations. He was the first of his family to break tradition, turn his back on working the land and join the police.
The job suited him. Candice didn’t, he thought, as her hand began moving up his thigh.
She was easy, and then some. He liked easy. But he wasn’t able to get into the spirit of the evening, and that annoyed him.
He blamed Wendy.
To put her out of his mind, he placed his hand on Candice’s and smiled at her. “Over there is the reservoir.”
“Not much to look at, is it?”
Up ahead was the turnoff to Broslin Creek, a great place for a walk with the perfect make-out spot a little farther in. He didn’t turn the car. Instead, he kept on driving a half circle around the east side of Broslin.
By the time he turned back into town, Candice had her seat belt off, her body plastered against his side, and her flawlessly manicured fingers massaging his crotch.
When he stopped the car and she looked around, she shot him a confused look. “Why are we back at the bar? I thought we’re going to your place.”
“Sorry. That’s not on the dime tour.” This time, he did get out and walk around to open the door for her, so she’d know he was serious about dropping her off.
She got out with an uncertain smile. “Are you coming in?”
“I have work in the morning. Better get to bed. Have a great evening. Hope you’ll enjoy Broslin.”
But sleep wasn’t what he needed either. He’d go back to the office and look through some more files, he decided.
He closed the passenger side door, then strode around the Camaro, dropped behind the steering wheel as she called something after him that sounded like “Stupid small-town hick.”
He forgot Candice the second he drove away.
His mind was full of Wendy.
Since he was thinking about her, he called the responding officer from her accident. He wanted to know what had gone wrong with her car. He’d never had a hybrid. Were malfunctions like that common?
He didn’t like the idea of Wendy with an unreliable ride. He was friendly with the local dealer in town. He could hook her up if the Prius couldn’t be saved.
“Officer Joe Kessler,” he identified himself. “We met on Route 202 this afternoon at that Prius that drove off the highway ramp. If you could give me an update on that, I’d appreciate it.”
Silence stretched on the other end, then a few choice swear words came in a sleepy voice. “At midnight? What the hell? I have to get up at four thirty for my shift.”
Joe glanced at the dashboard. The clock showed 12:23. “Sorry. Time got away from me.”
The man grumbled another moment. “You said the white Prius?”
“Yeah. I was hoping it would have gone through inspection by now.”
“Hang on for a second.” Another pause. “Okay. Yeah. We got it. Looks like someone tampered with the brake lines. I’ll be going out to talk to Miss Belle about it in the morning.”
Everything inside Joe stilled, tension gripping the muscles of his back. “What time? As a friend, I’d like to be there for her.”
“Around eight, unless something else comes up. Want to get that out of the way before the day goes crazy.”
“I appreciate it.” He hung up, glanced at the clock again. Definitely too late to call Wendy.
But not too late to call the Wilmington jail. He dialed, gave his badge number, and asked after Keith. Technically, the police could hold him without charging him until tomorrow—okay, today, it was after midnight—but maybe his lawyer had pushed hard and gotten him released.
“I need to know whether he’s still in custody.”
“Still here,” the female officer on duty confirmed.
Joe thanked her, then hung up. With some luck, the fingerprint reports would come back a match and Keith would be formally charged at some point today and kept locked up a good while longer.
But if Keith was behind bars, who was trying to kill Wendy?
Deathblow: Chapter Eleven
Wendy woke to her cell phone ringing and groaned into her pillow. She glanced at the time, almost eight a.m. Some extra sleep would have been nice. She’d had trouble falling asleep last night, then dreamt and woke up, over and over again. In some of the dreams, Joe was making love to her. In others, he was walking away from her.
She picked up her phone and squinted at the screen. Talk about the devil.
“Is it a crime to sleep in now?” she mumbled the words.
“I’m here,” Broslin’s favorite son said on the other end.
Her brain struggled to wake up. “Here where?”
“In front of your door.”
“I didn’t buzz you in.”
“Came in with one of the neighbors. Open the door, Wendy.”
“Give me a minute.”
She put the phone down and jumped out of bed. He was probably here to talk about the baby. She’d thought she was ready for that conversation, but now she wasn’t sure. Advance warning that he was dropping in would have been nice. She could at least have had a cup of coffee first.
She washed her face in a hurry and brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair, then dressed—a simple T-shirt with blue jeans, didn’t want him to think that she was dressing up for him. Since Justin was still sleeping, she closed the door to his room.
Then she drew a deep breath, walked to the front door, and opened it.
“Hey.” His dark hair was mussed; his clothes looked slept in. He looked sexier than ever. “Can I come in?”
Okay, that was different from Keith’s habit of pushing his way in and acting as if he owned the place. She stepped aside, part of her responding to Joe’s good manners and rumpled, sexy look.
Because she didn’t like that, she pushed back. “Hot party last night?”
“You bet.”
But he had green carpet fibers—the same color as the hallway carpet outside—on the back of his pants. Almost as if he’d spent at least part of the night sitting outside her door. That didn’t make any sense.
He walked forward and she tried not to appreciate the way his powerful body moved, or those chiseled lips that had gotten her into trouble in the first place, or the eyes that seemed sober instead of glinting with mischief this morning.
“Coffee?” She moved toward the counter. She needed fortification to face him.
“Sure. Justin?”
“Won’t be up for another hour.”
Joe followed her into the kitchen. “He slept okay?”
Her heart softened a little. He always asked about Justin, half the time had some little gift for him. She didn’t think he was faking that he cared. So why couldn’t he deal with their baby? But she couldn’t go there. Not before coffee.
“He never woke up once,” she said. “I thought he might have nightmares, but he didn’t. Thank you for making the accident a game and an adventure for him.” She popped in a new filter, added coffee, then poured in water.
“Kids are pretty resilient.” Joe stopped a few feet from her and held her gaze, as if trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say next.
Okay. Here came the part wh
ere he blamed her for everything and told her that the baby was her problem. She turned on the coffeemaker, then stepped aside to put a little more distance between them as she braced herself.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
“What?”
“Prepare for the blow. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, and I’m not ever going to.”
She filled her lungs. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Deep down, she knew Joe wasn’t Keith; he was nothing like Keith. “I’m sorry. It’s a body reflex.”
“You don’t have to apologize for it either.”
“Feeling bossy much this morning? Is there anything else you’d like to tell me to do or not to do?”
An almost-smile twitched at the corner of his lips, but his face slipped back to serious pretty fast. “Sorry. I haven’t slept much. I’ve been up most of the night, thinking.” He held her gaze. “Your brake lines were cut. That accident wasn’t really an accident.”
Her knees went weak. Good thing she’d been leaning against the counter.
“Is Keith out?”
“Still in jail.”
That tripped her up for a second. If Keith was in jail, then who? No. She shook her head. There wasn’t anyone else. “It has to be him. He found a way. Maybe he paid someone.”
“From behind bars?” Joe took a moment to think. “I don’t know. Yeah, that stuff happens, but with people who have extensive criminal connections before they go in. He’s in county jail, not federal lockup. How does he connect up with an assassin?”
“He made some kind of agreement with someone who was getting out.” Her chest hurt. “You don’t understand. He can talk anyone into anything.” She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back on her heels.
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Has he tried to contact you since he’s been arrested?”
“He had some cell buddy call to let me know he’s mad at me. Except, the message said—” She swallowed. “That he’d take care of me when he got out.”
Joe became very still, very quiet, for a moment. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
“I thought about telling you. But if we sat down for a serious talk, one that went into everything, the baby had to be part of it too. I wasn’t ready to have that conversation.”
His jaw worked silently for a second. “The baby can’t be mine.”
His pronouncement felt like a slap in the face, the sense of rejection overwhelming. Of course, he would assume that she slept around. And, of course, he couldn’t imagine having a baby with her. She was fluff. Nothing. Keith had told her that often enough.
But even as she thought that, she was shaking it off, pulling her spine straight. Keith was wrong. “I haven’t slept with anyone else. Why would I make this up? I have no reason.”
“I could think of a few.” Joe’s dark gaze bore into hers. “You know I’m attracted to you. Maybe you see that as something you can use to your advantage. I’m a cop. That’s a bonus. You know I would protect you and your children from Keith.” He shook his head. “Here’s the thing. I’m going to protect you, no matter what. You have that. Okay?”
“Thank you.” She was grateful for that beyond words. But the rest…. He wanted nothing to do with her, or their child, long-term. She turned from him to the coffee to give herself time to wipe the stupid look of disappointment from her face.
She took her time pouring his coffee into a travel mug, then steeled herself as best she could before she turned back to him. She put on her most carefully neutral expression. Life was a runway. You held your head up, never let anyone see behind the mask, pretended that nothing hurt. “Here you go. See you later.”
He accepted the mug and glanced at the clock on her microwave, then moved to sit at the kitchen table. “Wilmington PD will be here in a couple of minutes to talk to you about the crash.”
She took too big a gulp of her coffee and managed to burn her tongue. Coughed.
Joe glanced at her. “Other than Keith, is there anyone else who might want to harm you?”
“I’m a small-time model.” She rubbed her free hand over her thigh. “I don’t know any murderers. It’s not like I live a life of crime.”
When the cops arrived a minute later to question her, she told them the same thing.
Justin woke while she was being interviewed. Joe changed his diaper, dressed him, fed him breakfast in the kitchen while she was answering questions in the living room. She tried to ignore the jaw-dropping, sexy-hunk picture he presented with Justin on his hip.
Keith had never questioned Justin’s paternity but was never there for Justin. Whereas Joe had been there for them so far, every step of the way. Even if they didn’t see eye-to-eye in everything, she was so incredibly, ridiculously grateful for his presence. Until he decided to completely take over the second the cops left.
“Pack your suitcases.”
“I just unpacked them.”
“I can protect you better in Broslin. I have no jurisdiction here. No backup.”
“Sophie already promised the house to someone else.” Terry had been given the go-ahead. She wanted to rent the house fully furnished for her parents, so Sophie didn’t have to worry about moving anything into storage. As eager as Terry was to get her parents in there, they were probably already moved in.
“Then you’re coming to my place.” Joe set Justin down, since he was stretching toward his toys in the living room. “I have a guest bedroom. You’ll be safe there.”
She couldn’t think. The morning had hit her with the force of a tidal wave, and she still had trouble finding her footing. “One minute I’m a liar, making up a baby, the next minute you want me to move in with you? How does that work?”
“I never said you made up the baby,” he said quietly. “I know this is a rough time for you. You could have died yesterday. Justin could have been hurt. I know it’s not good to yank a kid around, living in a different place every day. It’s temporary. Give me time to figure out who is behind all this.”
“Keith.”
“If he is, he’s going to be put away for a good long time. I promise. Let me help here.”
There was being independent, and then there was being stupid. She would have liked to think she didn’t fall entirely in the latter category. Even if she might have been willing to brazen this out alone, the reality was, no way would she put Justin in any kind of danger.
But Joe’s place…. Talk about entering the lion’s den.
“You need to be safe.” He leaned against the counter. “But it’s your decision.”
If he’d been impatient, if he’d pushed, it would have gotten her hackles up. But the kindness in his eyes disarmed her. Joe was convinced he couldn’t be the father of her baby, but he stepped up to the plate anyway and would do whatever it took to keep her and her children safe. That they weren’t his didn’t matter to him.
Her heart did a little wiggle inside her chest.
“Okay. Thank you.” She glanced toward the two large travel bags she’d just emptied. “I’ll have to repack everything.”
“No rush. I cleared my morning for this.”
So she started with the packing while he walked over to take care of Justin.
“Hey, buddy. Want to come over to my house to play?”
Justin’s eyes lit up. He was always game for a playdate. “Do you have a doggy?”
“Sophie has a dog, and my parents have a dog,” Wendy explained as she came from the bedroom with a stack of toddler clothes. “Since those are the places we visit most, he tends to think that if we’re going to see someone, there’ll be a dog in the mix at some point.”
Joe rolled with it. “I don’t have a dog, but the neighbor’s cat visits all the time for a treat.”
“Kitty!” Justin clapped, bouncing and beaming as if he’d won the pet lottery.
“He’s a pirate cat,” Joe warned. “He’s missing an eye and most of his tail.”
Justin’
s eyes went wide.
Joe gave an exaggerated nod. “His name is Prince, but I call him Pirate Prince.”
And just like that, Justin was sold on going. “I want to see the Pirate Prince!”
Wendy shook her head. Joe did have a way of talking to kids.
She walked to the bathroom cabinet and grabbed a couple of things she would need, hair products and her lotion and face cream. “We need some diapers,” she said on her way out. Then stopped in the doorway. “I don’t have a car seat.”
Justin’s car seat was still in the mangled Prius, wherever the cops had taken that.
“I brought one. I had one in the garage that I use when I need to get my nephew.” Joe grabbed her bags. “Let me take the heavy things down, then I’ll come back up to help you with Justin and the rest. We can stop by the store to pick up diapers on the way over to my place.”
She stared after him as he left. He helped without being asked. He saw what needed to be done and did it. He didn’t think dealing with Justin was “the woman’s job.” When Joe was around, it was like having a real partner—like in books and movies.
A sharp sense of longing exactly for that, a partner, cut through her. She pressed her lips together and hurried on to get Justin dressed. Joe was not her partner, and he never would be. He’d made it more than clear that he couldn’t even accept that the baby was his. To let herself get lost in some girlish fantasy about him would be incredibly stupid.
He came back a few minutes later, and walked Justin down to his car while she made sure that all the lights were turned off, the heat turned down, and that there were no dirty dishes in the sink. She filled the last bag with Justin’s baby accessories—sippy cups and toys—then locked up the place.
Her mind kept returning to the same thought over and over as she walked down the stairs: somebody wanted to kill her, and they wanted it badly enough not to care if they hurt Justin.
Would Keith really do that? Would a father do that to his son?
But if not Keith, then who? The thought that she had more than one enemy scared her even worse.
Deathblow: Chapter Twelve
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