by Childs, Lisa
Erica didn’t cower; she glared at him instead. But she released the phone, tugging her hand free of his, as if unable to bear his touch. She hadn’t felt that way that night…
But had she been drugged, as she’d claimed? If she hadn’t been drugged, would she have really wanted him at all? She had easily accepted his breaking up with her before he’d left for Afghanistan. She’d never had the feelings for him that he’d had for her—or she never would have doubted his innocence no matter what lies Marcus might have told her.
Because she had no feelings for him but suspicion, he couldn’t trust her. Driving with just the one hand on the wheel yet, he punched numbers into her phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked, her beautiful blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Listening to the phone ring, he murmured, “The only lawman I can trust…”
“Agent Cusack,” Rowe answered.
“It’s me.”
“You stubborn son of a…” His future brother-in-law cursed him—obviously not pleased that Jed had terminated their call earlier. “You need to tell me where you are, so I can bring you in. And if you hang up on me again, I will track you down and shoot you myself.”
Jed chuckled at the threat. “It’s nice to hear your voice, too.”
“Your sister can’t sleep with worrying over you. She’s going crazy.” So the DEA agent was more concerned about Macy than Jed.
That was good. Rowe Cusack was the right man for Jed’s little sister. The DEA agent loved her like Macy had always deserved to be loved—completely, devotedly and unconditionally. Now if only Jed could find a love like that for himself…
He swallowed a snort of laughter at that thought. Given his luck, there was no way he would ever find a love like his sister had. He’d be lucky to stay alive and alone.
“Tell her not to worry,” Jed said. “She’ll see me soon.”
From the passenger’s seat, Erica shot him a glance—obviously wondering about the she he talked about and how he expected to see her soon.
Rowe sucked in an audible breath. “You’re coming here?”
Jed maneuvered the van onto the slick off-ramp to Miller’s Valley. Each mile closer to Isobel brought him farther from Rowe and his sister. “Not yet.”
“Damn it, Jed—”
“You will see me soon,” he promised, earning another inquisitive glance from Erica. “But you need to get some information for me first.”
“I’m already picking up the case files from your lawyer’s office tomorrow.”
For years Jed had wanted to get his hands on those files, specifically on the ledgers that had provided the motive for killing his business partner. Embezzlement. But he hadn’t taken his clients’ money. And if he’d been able to go over those ledgers, he might have figured out who had.
“You’re too late,” Jed informed him. “The files are gone.”
Rowe groaned. “Please tell me that you didn’t break into his office and take them…”
“I didn’t have to break in,” Jed replied. “His killer left the door open—”
Rowe cursed now—fervently. “And you walked right into a trap.”
“If it was intended as that, I didn’t get caught.” Or so he hoped; he would find out for certain when they returned to Erica’s apartment. “Whoever killed Leighton must have also taken my file from his office.”
And just what the hell had Marcus detailed in his file? Erica’s address? The fact that she’d been pregnant during the trial?
Leighton had told Jed that he’d never tracked her down, but he hadn’t told Jed the truth about anything. Why would he have admitted to knowing her location? He wouldn’t have wanted Jed to send someone else to talk to her and learn what Jed had tonight, that Marcus had actually convinced her not to testify.
Despite the heat blowing out of the vents, she wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold. Or scared.
“This is really bad, Jed,” Rowe said, his raspy voice pitched low, probably so that Macy wouldn’t overhear him. “You’re going to be the number-one suspect for his murder.”
He sighed. “I know.”
He had been set up. Again.
“Did you…?”
“Hell, no.” But he couldn’t swear that he wouldn’t have killed his lawyer if he had been right about Marcus framing him for murders that his old fraternity brother had actually committed himself.
“I’m sorry, man, that I had to ask and I’m sorry that it happened,” Rowe said. “This is a tough break.”
“Maybe not,” Jed replied. “Although I didn’t get to talk to Marcus before he died and find out who paid him to help frame me—”
“What!” The phone cracked with Rowe’s exclamation. He’d obviously forgotten to be quiet.
Erica startled as if she’d heard his shout, too.
“Leighton helped set me up,” Jed said. His death was proof enough for Jed of his involvement. Marcus’s duplicity also explained how Jed had been convicted on just circumstantial evidence and eyewitness testimony that should have been easily discredited. “His partner must have killed him tonight.”
Rowe’s mind followed the path Jed’s had taken. “The killer was worried that Leighton would give him up.”
Or her.
He glanced at Erica now. Of course she had had no more opportunity to kill Marcus than he had. But another woman could have been involved—Brandon’s girlfriend who’d lied in her testimony. Had she been covering up her own guilt? She had really been the last one to see Brandon alive.
She wouldn’t have had access to his clients’ funds, but Brandon had. He could have embezzled it, and then she killed him to keep the money all to herself. Except for what she’d paid his lawyer.
Then she’d killed him.
Regret tugged at Jed that Marcus was gone now. “He would have told me who’d betrayed me,” Jed insisted. He would have either coerced or guilted a confession out of his old friend.
And the killer must have known that, too.
How well did the killer know Marcus? And Jed? Was this about revenge or had he just been a convenient patsy to take the murder rap?
Rowe sighed. “So this is literally a dead end then, man.”
“Marcus was paid off.”
He never would have been able to afford that historic building if he hadn’t been—not with the limited case load he’d had. There hadn’t been many files in those drawers, and Jed doubted the killer had taken anyone else’s.
“Probably with the money that was embezzled from my old accounting firm. Track down that money, Rowe.”
Jed had wanted to go through those records himself, but Marcus had claimed that he couldn’t get permission to bring them in to Blackwoods. Given how corrupt the warden had been, Jed hadn’t questioned him. But he should have because Marcus had probably lied about that, too. He just hadn’t wanted Jed to track that money down himself because it would have led to Marcus’s own wallet.
“During your trial, court-appointed accountants went through those ledgers and bank statements,” Rowe said, sharing what he’d learned from the transcripts. “No one was able to figure out where the money had gone. They figured you had secret accounts.”
“I didn’t.” He had never seen any of that money. “But the killer must have. Try to track down the payments that were made to Leighton for throwing my trial.”
“What about Erica Towsley?” Rowe asked, seemingly out of the blue. “Who is she?”
Jed chuckled. Rowe had kept interrupting him to keep Jed on the phone long enough to trace the call this time. “Check that angle, too.”
“For the money?”
“Follow the money.” Jed pulled the van into the alley behind Erica’s building.
He doubted it would lead back to her, though. Her vehicle was a piece of junk that looked as if it had more knocks and rattles than a demolition-derby car. And the building where she lived was old, as had been all the furnishings inside her drafty apartment. If she’d been
paid off, her payments hadn’t been as generous as Leighton’s.
“What angle?” Erica whispered.
He shook his head. “And if you can’t figure it out, I’ll go over the ledgers and statements when I meet up with you.”
“If court-appointed accountants couldn’t figure it out, I doubt I will be able to,” Rowe said.
“Then concentrate on the witnesses,” Jed said. “I bet you’ll find they were paid off just like Leighton was. Track them down. And I’ll track down the money.”
“I’ll bring the ledgers to you,” Rowe offered. “I know where to find you.”
Even though the DEA agent couldn’t see him, Jed grinned at the man’s persistence. “Don’t waste your time. I would be gone by the time you got here.”
“I could send the police ahead to detain you,” Rowe warned him.
“You wouldn’t risk it,” Jed said with absolute certainty. “You wouldn’t risk my life.”
Or Macy would probably take Rowe’s—no matter how much she loved him. He didn’t trust that Erica wouldn’t risk his life, though, since she had already almost reported him.
He caught her as she reached for the door handle. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Damn it, Jed—”
He clicked off the cell without explaining to Rowe that he hadn’t been talking to him.
“Let me go,” Erica demanded, her voice rising with panic as she tugged at her arm.
“No. I can’t let you go…”
* * *
HIS WORDS, SPOKEN SO matter-of-factly, chilled Erica’s skin so that goose bumps lifted beneath her heavy clothes.
“I’ll scream,” she threatened.
“Then I’ll have to shut you up.” He leaned closer.
Erica closed her eyes, flinching even before he struck her. But he didn’t hit her. Instead his gloved fingers slid along her jaw, tipping up her chin. Then his mouth covered hers.
She expected cruelty—for his mouth to punish. But instead his lips slid lightly across hers, brushing gently back and forth. Her breath caught and then escaped in a gasp.
And he deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth tighter against hers until her lips parted. Not for breath.
She didn’t need to breathe anymore. She just needed him—needed the passion that warmed her blood and quickened her heart rate. No man had ever affected her like this one.
But those effects hadn’t always been good. He had broken her heart when he’d dumped her before his deployment. It hadn’t mattered that they’d been broken up, though. She’d spent a year worrying about him and yearning for him.
And loving him.
So it was no wonder she had fallen into his arms and his bed almost literally the minute he had returned home. But he hadn’t professed his love then. He had only used her—maybe not for an alibi. But he’d used her all the same.
And broken her heart again.
She lifted her hands between them and pushed against his chest. He had always been muscular, but now his chest was like a concrete wall—hard and immovable. But Erica didn’t have to struggle or scream.
He pulled back, his nostrils flaring as he drew in a deep breath.
“I didn’t want to do that now,” he said.
Finally she breathed, drawing in a sharp breath as his admission stung her pride.
And her heart.
“I wanted to do that the minute you opened the door to me,” he continued, “even when I thought you had betrayed me and left me to rot in prison.”
“Jed, I didn’t—”
“I realize now that you didn’t betray me three years ago, but you were about to do it now,” he reminded her. “You can’t call the police, Erica.”
“I can’t,” she agreed, “because you took my phone.” But even if he hadn’t, she doubted she would have been able to punch in that last digit. She was almost grateful that he had taken the phone from her.
Who had he called to help him? Who was the lawman he trusted? A guard from the prison? It had sounded like they were all corrupt. Or the DEA agent whose badge he had used to trick her into opening the door for him?
“You have a landline in your apartment,” he said. “So you’re not going inside without me.”
“But if Mrs. Osborn sees you, she will call the police for certain.” Taking the impossible decision out of Erica’s hands but putting custody of her daughter and Erica’s own freedom at risk.
Jed shrugged off her concern. “I doubt she’ll recognize me. I don’t look like the photo they keep showing of me on the news.”
No. He looked even more dangerous than the mug shot taken before his trial. After three years in Blackwoods Penitentiary, he was undoubtedly more dangerous.
“I’m not worried about her calling the police on me.” He narrowed his eyes, which were dark with suspicion as he stared at her.
He was worried about Erica. Even though she had explained why she hadn’t come forward at his trial, he didn’t trust her, and now that he was dead, Marcus Leighton couldn’t confirm that he was the reason she hadn’t provided Jed with an alibi. In addition to that, she had almost reported him to authorities, so she couldn’t blame him for not trusting her.
“I won’t call the police,” she promised. “I’m not sure I believe you completely about that shoot-on-sight order. But I can’t risk it.”
His gaze widened slightly, but then he shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think I’m the one you’re worried about losing.”
She had already lost him twice. First to Afghanistan and then to prison. But then, he had never really been hers to lose.
“I can’t risk Isobel’s safety,” she said as she pushed open the passenger door.
He didn’t stop her this time, and she felt a moment’s flash of disappointment as she stepped onto the snow-covered pavement.
“I can’t risk her getting shot in the crossfire,” she said. “That’s why you need to get into whatever vehicle you brought here—” she gestured at a car and a van parked in the alley “—and drive as far away from us as you can get.”
“You’re right,” he agreed—almost too easily as he slammed shut the driver’s door after joining her in the alley. “I never would have come to you if I hadn’t thought you alibi-ing me would be the fastest way to get my conviction overturned.”
“I’m sorry…”
“And I never should have let you come with me to see Leighton,” he said, his voice gruff with guilt and frustration.
“I didn’t give you a choice,” she reminded him as she headed toward the back door of her building. “I didn’t tell you his address.”
“But I could have gotten it out of you…”
He could have—had he kissed her like he just had. So she didn’t argue with him, just closed her eyes and relived those few brief moments when his lips had covered hers.
“I’m not giving you a choice now,” he said as he slid his arm around her.
She opened her eyes, both anticipating and fearing another kiss. But he wasn’t even looking at her.
He had only reached around her for the door knob. “I’m going up to your apartment with you,” he said. “I’m going to make sure you and Isobel are safe before I leave.”
She shook her head. “Mrs. Osborn—”
“Will never get a good look at my face,” he said as he opened the door. “No one has recognized me since the prison break. No one will.”
The collar was up on his dark-colored wool coat, but it didn’t hide much of his face. Dark stubble did that, as did his expression, which was so intimidating that nobody was likely to stare at him long enough to recognize him.
Erica drew in a shaky breath and inhaled the scent that had always been Jed’s alone—rain fresh but musky male. “You’ll leave once you see Isobel?”
He nodded.
“Okay.” She followed him inside and up the back stairs to her apartment. “Let me go in first and distract Mrs. Osborn.”
Jed was already reaching for her door, too
, but he didn’t have to turn the knob. It stood ajar, the apartment so dark inside that only shadows spilled out into the dimly lit hallway. Something clattered to the hardwood floor inside, and Jed shoved open the door and bolted into the living room.
“Stop,” she called after him in a loud whisper. When she was watching Isobel, Mrs. Osborn usually left the doors open between her apartment and Erica’s. And the older woman often dropped things.
