The Safe Bet

by Brittney Sahin

  “Kate?” Michael rapped at the door. “Are you all right?”

  “Go away.” It was her turn to blow him off. To close herself up and hide behind a fortified wall of steel.

  “I can’t do that.” Michael opened the door, and she regretted not locking it. She dropped her phone on the bed and focused her attention on the plush carpet beneath her toes. Don’t cry. Don’t break down in front of him.

  “Kate.”

  She shifted to lie down. Turning away from him, she pleaded, “Please, leave.”

  But he ignored her, damn him. She felt the weight of the bed shift as he joined her, and when he wrapped an arm around her, tugging her flush to his body, she cried, “Let me go. Leave.” She started to struggle, to shift her shoulders, to move away from him, but he only tightened his hold.

  “I’m here for you, Kate. Let me be here for you.”

  “Damn you,” she hissed. He had no right to be her savior right now. To be the friend she’d tried to be to him.

  But as he nuzzled his face to her neck, sweeping his hand down the side of her face, she gave in to the warmth. To the comfort and feeling of safety.

  And tears began to stream down her face as she remained tucked against the one man who could possibly hurt her more than her stalker. The man who was slowly possessing her heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SOMETHING HEAVY PRESSED AGAINST HER stomach, and the need to take a deep breath forced her awake. Kate’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked down to see Michael’s arm resting on her abdomen. His long, dark lashes lay against his bronzed skin. His chest gently rose and fell.

  She wanted to shut her eyes and stay next to him for as long as possible. To will away the truth of what she’d learned earlier.

  But she couldn’t hide forever.

  She stared at the ceiling and swallowed as she processed her thoughts. Learning the truth was like losing her mom for the second time.

  “Kate. How are you?” His palm cupped her chin, and he nudged her face close to his.

  Their lips were only inches apart as she practically breathed out his name, “Michael.”

  His brows pinched together, his eyes like blue glass. “I—”

  “My father is on his way here,” she cut him off, worried he’d try to dance around the moment and turn into an ass—and right now she couldn’t deal with that. “He plans on taking me home.”

  Michael’s head snapped back, and he immediately sat upright and rubbed a hand down his face. “Hell, no. You’re safe here, with me.”

  Sure . . .

  His voice softened a fraction as he said, “Kate, I don’t think going back to New York is a good idea, especially if that’s what your stalker wants.”

  She scooted to the other side of the bed and stood. “I don’t know where I’ll be safe—maybe nowhere. But my father is an attorney; he knows people who can protect me.” She paused, and her shoulders shrank. “But I’m so angry at him for lying to me all these years. I don’t know if I can face him right now.” She looked down at the floor.

  Her life had been a lie.

  “Can I ask what he said to you?”

  She ran her hands up and down her thighs, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart. “He didn’t say much of anything other than he was taking the first flight here. But it’s strange, huh?”

  Michael came around in front of her and reached out, cupping her cheek. The gesture was sweet. And so damn confusing it hurt.

  She sucked in a breath, taking note of his eyes, which were not as dark and appeared more like the Gulf of Mexico on a summer day. Or maybe her vision was off from all the crying.

  “I don’t know who killed my mom, or if it’s the same person who is after me, but I kind of want it to be the same person,” she softly admitted.

  He stared at her in silence, his eyes narrowing.

  “I—I need it to be the same person because I want to bring my mother’s killer to justice. I have a better chance of finding her killer if he has already found me.”

  Michael’s hand fell. “It sounds to me like you want to be bait.”

  “Not bait . . . not any more than I already am.” She crossed her arms. “I have to find out who killed my mom.”

  He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and stepped back. “Fine.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll find your stalker and your mother’s killer—even if they’re two different people. But we’re not using you as bait. Period.”

  *

  Michael slid off the barstool when he saw Kate approaching. She looked refreshed and energized after her shower. She had applied a little mascara and lip gloss and had thrown on a pair of blue jeans and a pink, Victoria’s Secret T-shirt.

  He groaned, unsettled by his inappropriate desire. “You look better.”

  “My dad sent me a text. He said he couldn’t get a flight until early tomorrow morning.” She approached the fridge and opened it. “I texted him the address of the hotel where I was staying before. He thinks I’ll be meeting him there at eight. He has no idea about you.” She peeked around the fridge door. “Could you meet him instead? I can’t face him.”

  “Of course.” He preferred to have a one-on-one with her father anyway. “I’ll push my meeting until a little later.”

  “I’m starving. Mind if I ransack your fridge? I stress eat.”

  God, it was wonderful to be around a woman with an appetite. Someone who ate actual food. Not lettuce and carrot sticks.

  Was there anything he didn’t like about her? He was trying to think of something as they finished their food awhile later. “You amaze me,” he said.

  She finished her last bite of bowtie pasta and looked up at him. “What?”

  He hadn’t meant to say that, but he couldn’t turn back now. “You just amaze me.” And that was all he would say. He stood up and grabbed a bottle of wine. “Want any?”

  “Sure.”

  “While you were in the shower, I spoke with Jake,” he said as he poured the wine. “He asked me to email him the guest list of the ball. He’s going to see if any of the guests had a connection to your mom.”

  “Oh.”

  When he handed her the glass, she briefly closed her eyes. “I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t think it was relevant, but I met someone at the ball who knew my mom. He told me I looked just like her. They were classmates.” She looked up at Michael. “I’m sure he has nothing to do with my stalker. I mean, we don’t even know if there is a relationship between her murder and what is happening to me.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Yeah. He gave me his business card.”

  “Okay, I’ll let Jake know.” He took a sip of the wine. “Jake also got the official police report of your mother’s case while we were sleeping earlier, and he’ll visit with one of the detectives who was on your mother’s case tomorrow. He’s retired, but he’ll see if the detective remembers anything.”

  “Wow. He moves fast.”

  “Like I said, he’s one of the best. He normally deals in counterterrorism, but—”

  “Jeez. I hate taking up his time then . . .” She shook her head and looked down at her glass. “I’ve completely disrupted your life. Thank you for helping me, though.”

  He set the glass down on the kitchen island and moved toward her. “You don’t need to thank me, and I don’t want anything in return,” he said in a low voice. “I’m helping you because I care about you.”

  She bit her lip and her gaze averted to his mouth. “Why do you care about me? Even before you and I, um, hooked up, you wanted to help me. I don’t get it. Is it because you were in the military? You have some desire to help people in need?”

  “I like you, Kate. You know I do. I can’t help but care about your safety.” He rubbed his forehead and grabbed his wine again. “But I shouldn’t want you the way that I do. It’s selfish of me to still want you, especially now. Especially after the day you’ve had. But damned if I do.” He poured the remaining con
tents of his glass down his throat and swallowed. “I’m going to call Connor and have him come over.”

  “What? Why?” She moved closer to him.

  “I need to go out. I can’t be here right now.” He didn’t trust himself. And, although he hated the idea of ladies-man-Connor spending the evening with Kate, he knew it would be worse if he spent any time with her. He was still sending her mixed signals, and it wasn’t fair. She needed protection, and all he’d ever be was pain if he got any closer to her.

  “I thought we were going to come up with a plan.”

  “Jake’s working on the plan. Don’t worry.” He reached for his cell and left the kitchen before he could change his mind.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, following him into the living room. “To a bar? A club? To find someone else to be with? Someone that’s not me?”

  He jerked around to face her, his chest moving up and down as he tried to control himself—to stop himself from taking her in his arms right now and showing her that she was all he wanted. All that he needed.

  And then he turned his back and strode from the room—getting as far away from her as possible.

  *

  Michael brought the Jack and Coke to his lips and stared in a daze at the row of liquor bottles that lined the wall. The bar was dead. It was a Monday night, after all, and closing time was in fifteen minutes. He was on his fourth drink, and he was still unable to digest his feelings for Kate. The last few days had taken him by surprise. Kate had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else had. He was trying to keep his wall up, but she was like a sledgehammer. All she had to do was smile.

  He’d thought he would get her out of his system once they slept together. But he only wanted her more. He’d never done drugs before. But for the first time in his life, he felt like he could understand the dilemma that drug users faced. Once they felt the high, they wanted more of it. They knew it was wrong. They tried to stay away. But when temptation was near, their mind would ignore the sin and only remember the pleasure it could bring.

  Kate was becoming his drug, and he couldn’t trust himself around her. He was growing weak.

  He’d faced terrorists eye to eye. He’d gone to bat with men who strapped bombs to their chests—and yet, he couldn’t be in the same room with Kate without needing her so much that it risked his self-control. What was happening?

  He took a sip of his almost empty drink and tried to remind himself of all the reasons that a true relationship was not an option for him. The memories came hurling back with such force that he almost spat out his drink. He shut his eyes and bit back the pain that was now gathering like a storm in his chest. He reached into his pocket and threw a few twenties on the counter.

  His legs felt heavy as he exited the bar and walked the few blocks back to his place. When the elevator doors opened, and he entered the living room, he saw Kate curled up asleep on the couch, with Connor sitting beside her. An action flick was playing on the television, and Connor appeared engrossed in the movie. He jumped up when he saw Michael.

  “Thanks for looking after her, man,” he said as he kept his eyes fixed on Kate asleep.

  “Sure.” Connor arched his back, and then stretched his arms out in front of him. “Are you okay? You seem more tense than normal.” He laughed a little. “If that’s possible.”

  Michael nodded. “I’m fine,” he answered as he finally looked at his friend. “Thanks again. See you in the morning.”

  As soon as the elevator doors closed and Connor was gone, Michael reached for Kate and picked her up in his arms, trying not to wake her. He carried her down the hall and to the guest bedroom, staring down at her, mesmerized by the sleeping beauty in his arms. Relief struck him upon noting she was still in her jeans and hadn’t put on one of her flimsy nightgowns for Connor to see. Gently, he laid her on the bed.

  “Michael . . .”

  Hearing his name, even mumbled, caused him to stop in the doorway.

  She was dreaming. About him.

  He pressed his palm to the inside of the doorframe and bowed his head as he stifled the sudden stiffening between his legs.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, wishing he could sleep next to her. To feel her in his arms again. But the nap they had earlier today was the closest he’d come to sleeping with someone since he’d been out of the Marines. And even that had been a mistake.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “David Adams?”

  The man was not who Michael would have expected. He knew David Adams was a powerful defense attorney in New York City, but he wouldn’t have pegged him for a shorts-and-wrinkled-T-shirt kind of guy. He decided that Kate’s looks must have come from her mother—her father had dark cropped hair, brown eyes, and a plain, oval face. Something about him screamed lawyer, though—or maybe it was that Michael didn’t trust lawyers, and he definitely didn’t trust Kate’s father, who had lied to his daughter all her life.

  “Michael Maddox?” David closed the distance between them but didn’t meet Michael’s extended hand. “Where’s my daughter?” He looked around the busy lobby of the hotel and back at Michael.

  “How’d you know who I am? I didn’t think Kate mentioned me.” Michael shoved his hands in the pockets of his black business pants and trained his attention on David’s brown eyes, trying to get an accurate read on his character.

  “Doesn’t everyone know who you are?” He echoed Michael’s pose. “Besides, you’re the reason my daughter is here, right? She planned your event. And I want her to come back to New York.”

  “You don’t even know what’s going on,” Michael said with a deeper than normal voice. “We need to talk. I’ll take you to my office.”

  “I have no intention of going anywhere without seeing my daughter. This is her hotel, correct?”

  “It was. She’s staying at my place now.”

  David took a step back from Michael and removed his hands from his pockets. “What the fuck is going on?” His tan faded, replaced by bright cheeks. “If you think you’re going to manipulate her—I know your reputation, you son—”

  Michael held his palms up. “Hang on, man. I’m trying to help, Kate. She’s in danger.” And that was all he had said before he made for the exit, assuming that David would follow.

  “What’s going on? I want to see my daughter,” David demanded as he trailed after Michael.

  Michael spun on his heel and motioned toward his Audi. “Get in. I’ll explain.”

  David huffed out an exasperated breath and shook his head, but at least he followed instructions.

  As soon as Michael was behind the driver’s wheel and pulled out into traffic, he spoke. “Kate has a stalker. Someone began following her the minute she arrived in Charlotte. It looks like he’s trying to scare her away.” He glanced over at David out of the corner of his eye. He was pressing his palms against his knees and staring out the passenger window. “I called in a favor from a friend of mine in the FBI. He told Kate about her mother’s murder.”

  “This is crazy.” David looked over at Michael as they stopped at a red light. “Jesus, I told her not to come to this city. I told her.”

  “My friend in the FBI doubts the stalker is connected to her mother’s murder, given that the police think Elizabeth’s murder was the result of a burglary, but he wants to pursue every possible angle.”

  “I didn’t want her to find out. I didn’t want her to know that her mother was shot. Do you blame me?” His face pinched together as anger, or maybe guilt besieged him.

  Michael pulled off to the side of the road and parallel parked a few blocks from his office. He looked over at David again, studying him, but found himself unable to get a read on the man. Had he lost his touch? “It’s between you and Kate as to why you lied, but I need to know if you think there’s a chance that there’s a connection between her mother’s murder and her stalker.”

  David looked like a man who had just lost a child. Or a wife. Sadness replaced his hollow stare, and the
muscles in his face sagged, as though gravity had become heavier. “I don’t think there’s a relation,” he said at last.

  “Why’d you run away from Charlotte when her mother died? Why the hell did her grandparents abandon their home—sadness? Or fear?”

  David straightened his slouched shoulders and wet his dry lips. He wondered if Kate received her nervous energy from her father. How could a powerful attorney be so weak? Maybe it took having a child to understand what David was feeling.

  “Tell me the truth,” Michael said with a flash of warning in his voice.

  “I don’t know if her mother’s murder was premeditated.” David rubbed his forehead. “Her mother, Elizabeth, told me that she felt like she was being followed. She couldn’t prove it, though, and I—a pre-law student to the core—demanded evidence. I wanted to help her, but I said that without proof there was nothing to go on. Soon after she told me that, she died.”

  “What did the cops say?”

  “Same as I said to Elizabeth. Without proof . . .” He shifted in his seat and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. His hand fumbled inside before retrieving a folded photo. He handed it to Michael.

  It was a headshot of Kate’s mother, Elizabeth. The photo was creased in the middle and worn at the edges, the color faded, but the resemblance between Kate and Elizabeth was astounding. Michael studied the photo and touched the necklace in the picture. The white gold chain was simple, but the pendant in the middle was exquisite. He didn’t know much about jewelry, but he guessed that the center diamond was, at least, two carats, and there were also small diamonds encrusting the large stone.

  “That was her grandmother’s necklace—the one the killer took.” David’s brown eyes grew dark. “Where’s Kate? I need to see her.”

  “Right now, she doesn’t want to see you.” He was beginning to feel sorry for the guy. Would he have done the same thing if he had been in David’s shoes? Would he have silenced the past?