Shielding the Suspect

by C. J. Miller

  The cab driver glanced over his shoulder. “That will cost you double the regular fare.”

  Brady would pay the cab driver any amount to keep quiet about this trip. It was a long shot for the police to contact cab companies looking for him and Susan, but if they did, Brady didn’t want a record of them leaving the resort and arriving at the Windsor Hotel. Once the police had her in custody, Justin’s father would put pressure on the mayor and the police to keep her there. She’d never get a fair trial and the police wouldn’t search for the real killer believing Susan was their murderer. Brady didn’t trust that Susan would be safe in jail. Once she was trapped, the killers searching for her would find a way to get to her.

  Brady shoved a wad of cash through the open plastic window between him and the driver. “Will that work?”

  The cab driver grinned and Brady read greed in his eyes. “Will you pay more for getting there quickly?”

  Brady flashed some more cash. “Yes. We need to get to Slider’s Café.” It was a small restaurant located within walking distance of the Windsor.

  They pulled away from the resort. Would the cab driver put together who they were? It was a long drive to the Windsor Hotel and he’d have plenty of time to think.

  Brady doubted the driver cared. He was breaking his company’s rules by driving his cab without the meter running and he wouldn’t want to be fired. Besides, how many people took time out of their day-to-day lives to hunt for suspects on the run? Not many.

  He and Susan didn’t make conversation. Brady didn’t want to give the cab driver any information about them, even if accidental. If the cab driver was questioned and mentioned he’d left two people at Slider’s Café, it wouldn’t tie them to the Windsor directly, though it would give the police a ballpark of where he and Susan were.

  They’d make it fast at the Windsor. With any luck, they would find what they needed. The key could belong to a lock somewhere in housekeeping, the bar, maintenance, the employee break room or cabinets in the office or foyer area. Brady hoped it led them to something, anything to use for Susan’s defense. The evidence against her was mounting. At some point, the police would find them and they’d be arrested and questioned. How could he protect her if they were apart?

  The sidewalk and streets were crowded when they arrived at Slider’s Café. Brady gave the driver his generous tip and he and Susan got out of the car.

  “Wait here until the cab disappears,” Brady said.

  They stood outside the café with their heads bent together. He read worry and fear in Susan’s expression.

  He touched her cheek lightly, wanting to reassure her. “We’ll be okay. Every day that passes is a day closer to finding the truth. We’re making progress.”

  Susan tapped her foot against the sidewalk. “I’m glad you feel confident about this. I feel like we’re walking into a trap. Someone else could know about the key or have another copy. The police are looking for us. Special Forces military men are looking for us. Justin’s killer is still at large.” She let the rest of her breath out in a whoosh and held her head in her hands.

  Brady ached to reach for her and draw her into his arms, to offer some comfort. Wanting more than emotional comfort, he was aware of his body hardening at the image of her pressed against him. He’d made love with her less than twelve hours ago and he was ready for more.

  Susan met his gaze and Brady looked away. Staring at her would get him into trouble.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? You think this is a mistake? That I’m right and someone is waiting at the hotel for us?” Susan asked.

  He hadn’t been thinking anything of the sort, though better for her to believe his stare had to do with the case and not how desirable he found her. When it came to Susan, he endlessly wanted her and perpetually desired her. Could he protect her and her feelings? He’d been working to earn her trust, but his admission that he’d expected her to remember more after they’d made love had hurt her more than helped. Could he earn her trust? How many chances could one man expect? He’d had her once and he’d blown it. His feelings for her now were as strong as his feelings for her then, and it seemed he’d have to get used to letting go of the woman he loved. Love. A powerful word that could cripple even the strongest man when unreturned.

  He tried to soothe her fears. “No one knows about the key. If there’s another copy and someone else knew what Justin was hiding, then we’re too late anyway.” A depressing possibility. Without the key and whatever it led to, they had the notebook, which hadn’t provided much information. If the information inside the notebook pointed to an account in Susan’s name, it only added to the evidence against her.

  Susan pulled her hat off and rubbed her scalp with her fingertips. Some wisps of hair fell around her face and her fingers, the contrast between her dark hair and light skin mesmerizing.

  “This is so frustrating. We don’t know who we can trust or who to look out for. We don’t know who’s trying to hurt us,” Susan said. “How can we protect ourselves from people who we don’t know?”

  “The same way we have been. We’ll keep a watch for anyone who’s staring too intently. If our instincts tell us we have a problem, we’ll run again,” Brady said. “Reilly and Harris are doing their best to help us. We can trust them.”

  At the mention of his brothers, Susan’s spirits seemed to lift. “What’s your plan at the hotel?”

  Brady had a vague plan. “We’ll go into the hotel separately. You’ll hide somewhere safe and I’ll get us a room. We’ll meet up and get to our room and see as few people as possible.”

  “What if someone recognizes me while I wait?” she asked.

  “I’ll leave you my gun,” he said.

  Susan clutched his arm, her nails digging into him. “Brady, we’ve been over this. I don’t know how to shoot a gun. I don’t think I could shoot someone because they recognize me.”

  Brady removed her fingers from his arm and squeezed her hand, his protective instinct roaring to not leave her alone, his training telling him it was better to separate to avoid recognition. If put to the test, Susan would prove stronger than she believed. “You won’t need to shoot it. Use the gun to buy yourself time to get away and hide if someone approaches you. Most people will back away from a show of strength and aggression.”

  Susan unclenched her fists and then rubbed her hand over his arm. Flames of heat burned up his body. If he let his hand linger on hers, would she clasp it? Intertwine their fingers?

  He’d never consciously defined the difference before, but having sex with her wasn’t the same as intimacy and trust. In the past, he’d associated the two as the same. Now, he was aware that hand-holding might fall into forbidden territory. A strange notion since they’d made love in the past twenty-four hours. As experienced as he was with women, he was equally as inexperienced with relationships.

  He nearly groaned aloud as two emotions struck him at once: first, lust winding around the image of Susan’s naked body moving over his, the sensation of sliding inside her, and the soft feel of her hands on his skin and second, embarrassment with the distinct impression he was overanalyzing, thinking about making love and sex and trying to slap a label on what they had.

  It didn’t need a label. They were two people in a tough situation protecting each other, and who, in the heat of the moment, had done what came naturally. He hadn’t handled the aftermath well. She’d been angry and hurt and he hadn’t known how to fix it. What could he say if the truth made her believe he was manipulating her?

  Two beat cops strut down the street, the crowd parting for them. Were they looking for him and Susan or just walking their patrol? Brady grabbed Susan and turned her shoulders so she faced him. He buried his head in the nape of her neck. “Cops.”

  Susan’s breathing escalated. “Did they see us?”

  Brady angled his head, kee
ping his face as covered as possible. “They see us, but I don’t think they recognize us. Pretend we’re lovers.” They didn’t have to pretend, but Susan got the message. Her arms went around him and he slid his hands to her lower back, holding her to him.

  Brady shifted, moving her between his hips. He rocked against her slightly. He wasn’t into public displays of affection, but this was for their cover. Lovers on the street embracing.

  Susan pinched the back of his neck. “Stop that.”

  He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to grind his body against hers. He wanted to take her to the hotel, forget about the case for a few hours and make slow, thrilling love to her again and again. Until he proved to her how much he wanted her and how his desire for her had nothing to do with getting information from her.

  “Are they gone?” she asked a hitch on the end of her question.

  Brady looked up to see the retreating backs of the policemen. “Yes.” Disappointed, he released his hold on her.

  She drew her body away, her expression guarded. Leaving her mouth close to his ear, her voice was low. “You keep the gun until we get to the hotel. Then I’ll do what I have to do.”

  He admired her courage and he tamped down his libido. He needed to shut these feelings down for a few minutes and get control. “I want to keep you safe, Susan. I want justice for what you’ve been through.”

  “I want that, too. And while we’re making wishes, I want justice for Justin and Reilly, too.”

  Chapter 10

  The Windsor Hotel was four stories high, shaped like an X. The first floor was comprised of a lounge, a restaurant and several ballrooms and banquet rooms.

  “What if the hotel has security cameras?” Susan asked.

  “Most hotels do. But the quality of the recording might be poor and the angle of the camera might be bad. Keep your head down and don’t look around. It decreases the chance of someone seeing you from an angle they’d recognize.”

  Susan would feel better if they stayed together, but it was safer for Brady to handle this part alone. Based on his work in the air force, he had more experience with covert situations. “Are you sure the front desk staff won’t recognize you from the news?”

  Brady shrugged. “I can’t be sure if I’ll be recognized or not. My hair color change might help. If they ask for ID, I’ll give them the fake. My picture won’t look exactly the same, but at least the name is different. Staying here will make it easier to search and it’ll be convenient to have a base close to the search area.” He leaned close to her. The intimacy was unexpected. She felt something cold at her back. Brady was slipping the gun into her pants and covering it with her jacket.

  She shivered. “I don’t need it.”

  “I hate for us to be separated. We’ve had too many close calls. I’m leaving you with some protection.”

  She wouldn’t read into the words. He wasn’t referring to their past or the future with him. For those, the only protection she had was herself.

  They decided on an entrance plan. She would wait behind the hotel in the greenhouse attached to the hotel, staying as inconspicuous as possible. Brady would enter through the main lobby.

  Susan took several, slow deep breaths. The more calmly she behaved, the better. She was walking through the greenhouse admiring the flowers. No big deal.

  Brady walked away without looking back. Susan took a deep breath and tried to control her racing thoughts. How had she ended up here? Hiding in a sun-warmed greenhouse, a gun tucked in the back of her borrowed pants, on the run from the police, her ex-fiancé dead, her home torched, investigated as the prime suspect in a murder and an arson, sleeping with her former lover, and pretending she could handle the cards she’d been dealt.

  Emotions from the past few weeks caught up with her and the urge to cry overwhelmed her. It wasn’t any one emotion—fear, anxiety, grief, sadness, terror or desire—it was the mixture of them creating a volatile cocktail.

  It wasn’t her best-laid plan to sleep with Brady at the ski resort. She blamed the setting. The stress. Her scattered emotions and her exhausted mind. Pretending it meant nothing hadn’t worked. Writing it off as sex without emotion, a roll in the sack and nothing more, was harder than she’d thought.

  Which frustrated her. She hadn’t asked Brady to get involved in this situation. She hadn’t wanted to see him again. She hadn’t been prepared for his intrusion into her life. Now that he was part of it, he’d taken center stage again.

  Susan wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. She had to stay calm and think.

  “Susan?”

  Susan jumped at the sound of Brady’s voice. Relief rushed through her. She whirled to face him. “Did you get a room?”

  He held up the key card to the room and disappointment struck her. A part of her had hoped the hotel would keep to its historic roots and use metal keys.

  “Went off without a hitch. Several people checked in ahead of me and the clerk didn’t change her routine for me. I’ll take the stairs from the main lobby. You use the stairs on the far end of the hotel so we aren’t seen together. Third floor, room three-oh-five. Meet me there?”

  Separated again. “Okay, sure.”

  “Wait a sec. Why are you crying?” he asked, concern in his eyes. He rubbed his thumb under her eye to brush away a tear.

  She wasn’t crying anymore. It had been a small breakdown and she had a handle on her emotions now. “It’s been a rough week.”

  Brady frowned and glanced around them. “We’ll talk in the room.”

  Susan walked into the hotel and took the stairs to the third floor. She lingered by the window at the end of the hallway, pretending to enjoy the view and not wanting to draw attention to herself.

  At the sound of footsteps, she turned. Brady! She didn’t run to him, though she wanted to. She waited until he went inside the hotel room, then walked to their door, counting off the rooms with every step.

  Susan slipped into the hotel room. She closed the door and watched Brady opening and closing the dresser drawers. “What are you doing?” she asked. In light of the concern he’d shown in the greenhouse, would he draw her into a conversation about her feelings?

  “I’m looking for an in-room safe or cabinet. Maybe the key belongs somewhere inside one of the rooms.”

  Susan helped him look, checking under the bathroom vanity. “The room safe is here.” She knelt and disappointment fluttered through her. “It’s digital. Doesn’t use a key.”

  Brady swore under his breath. “Was worth checking.”

  Susan stood and took his gun out of her pants. She handed it to him. “I can’t get rid of this fast enough.”

  He slid it back into his hip holster. “Heavy?”

  In more ways than one. The burden of using it would have weighed on her. How did Brady do it? “What is it like to kill someone?”

  He cast his gaze downward. “It’s not something I enjoy, but in situations where I’ve had to protect myself or others, I’ve made my peace with it. Taking a life is awful, but sometimes necessary.”

  Susan touched his shoulder. Was he feeling too vulnerable or could she find a way for him to open up to her? “When we were together, you never spoke about it. You never mentioned much about your job and it was weird that something so important to you wasn’t discussed.” It had bothered her that a big part of his life had been closed off from her. His emotions and the experiences had been something he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—share with her.

  “I don’t want to burden you or anyone else with it. The man I shot in my cabin, Finn Tremain, is the first person I’ve killed outside a warzone. The circumstances were different in the military. When I had to kill someone on the job, sometimes I couldn’t talk about it. Some of my missions are classified and discussing it would put me or others in danger.”

 
Couldn’t talk about it, or was it an easy excuse?

  “Do you regret what you had to do?”

  He shook his head. “No. Every time I’ve pulled the trigger, it’s because I didn’t have a choice.” An injured shadow passed over Brady’s face. Would he shut down and stop talking? “War is terrible. Frightening. The places I’ve seen are some of the darkest pits of humanity in the world. I have to block out the classified missions, but some I wanted to forget as fast as possible, classified or not. Reliving them, thinking about the atrocities in those places sickens me inside. If I let it, that darkness would poison me.”

  He’d never confided in her this way. She wanted him to tell her more. To share the burden. “That must take a terrible toll on you,” she said, drawing him out, needing him to confide in her and to let her inside.

  He shrugged. “I have outlets. Running. Exercise. Therapy.”

  But running and some forms of exercise had been taken from him after his injury. And therapy? “You’ve missed a few therapy sessions by now.” Because of her and this situation. How was he holding up? She hadn’t seen fissures in his demeanor, though she’d shown some of her own. Was he keeping it inside?

  Brady shifted on his feet. He was uncomfortable and she didn’t want him to stop talking. What could she say to help him understand it was fine to talk about his problems? It wasn’t an admission of weakness. Sharing a difficult situation didn’t make him less of a man.

  “I’ve missed a couple of sessions. I’ll explain to her later.” He spoke the words stiffly.

  “How is your knee feeling?” she asked.

  “It’s okay.”

  This time, she wasn’t accepting his dismissive response. “You never told me how you were injured. When I came to see you in the hospital, no one would tell me what had happened. I knew from your walk it was your leg.” She paused, fearing she’d stepped too far. She tried to explain. “Reilly mentioned you were home and I had to see you.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  Why, indeed. Reilly had warned her not to, but she hadn’t been able to stay away. “Because I wanted to know you were okay.” A lie. It was more than that. Her bitterness hadn’t severed her feelings for Brady, not entirely.