MAD DOG AND ANNIE

by Virginia Kantra

  "If it's protection you need," he said, "I'll bring some next time. Just in case you decide to live dangerously."

  She felt the draw of him all the way down in her belly and did her darnedest to ignore it. "I don't think I'm ready for dangerous."

  His smile was an invitation to trouble. "It's like messing around with fireworks. Nothing wrong with it, as long as we take the proper precautions."

  She crossed her arms against temptation. "Uh-huh. I bet that's what you told Tom Creech in eighth grade right before you two blew up the chem lab."

  Maddox laughed.

  * * *

  The judge peered over her reading glasses at the elderly shoplifter before the bench.

  "How many years would you say we've been going steady now, Mr. Nash?"

  "Your Honor—" the defense attorney protested. Maddox smothered a grin and edged toward the courtroom door. This was going to take a while. For his first day in court, he had half a dozen cases on the calendar—a DWI, a Peeping Tom, a couple of speeding tickets—but he wouldn't be called until the judge got through with the lawyers. Plenty of time for a smoke.

  He slipped out past a couple of cops from nearby Benson and a highway patrolman built like a mountain. He was used to waiting to testify. That didn't mean he couldn't think of things he'd rather be doing. He could follow up on last night's B and E. Return Detective Greene's call. Drive Annie Barclay out on the river road and show her everything he'd learned in the past twelve years…

  Yeah, right. Like that would impress her.

  He prowled the long passage to the building's only smoking area, the lobby connecting the civil, criminal and superior courts.

  Ann was struggling free of a lousy marriage to an abusive jerk. She wanted safe. She needed gentle. She deserved somebody with money and class. Somebody like Rob.

  Maddox's jaw set. Not Rob. Marriage to the Golden Boy had cost her.

  He found a spot against the wall with a view of all the doors and took out his first cigarette of the day. Ann didn't want a man who smoked. Hell, she didn't want a man, period. But he thought, or at least he hoped, he had a shot at changing her mind. Maybe he wasn't rich or smooth or subtle, but he'd take a bullet in the head before he'd touch her.

  No, that wasn't true. Maddox dragged on his cigarette. He'd like to touch her. A lot. It remained to be seen if she'd give him the chance.

  He blew smoke. Two nights ago on her porch he'd established Ann could still respond to him. His blood ran hot at the memory of her sweet little body pressed against his, her soft hair brushing his chin as she bent to take what she wanted.

  As she hadn't wanted Rob, all those years ago. The knowledge stirred Maddox at a gut-deep level, surprising and gratifying. She hadn't married the one-time quarterback for his money or his blond good looks. She hadn't fallen for his perfect hair, house, manners, teeth, clothes. She hadn't preferred Rob, the way everyone had always preferred Rob.

  Although she must have wanted him once upon a time. Or she wouldn't have let him knock her up.

  Son of a bitch.

  Maddox stabbed out his cigarette in the dirty sand by the door. He looked up to see Rob Cross promenading across the lobby.

  For a second Maddox thought he was imagining things. But it was Rob, all right, gliding across the fake marble floors, his steps only a little quicker than they were on the golf course. He had a laugh for his lawyer and a smile for the lady, yellow and brittle as cured tobacco, who guarded the information desk. It was a good act, and it played well to a receptive crowd.

  It pulled Maddox like a drug deal going down.

  Rob's blond hair and heavy shoulders disappeared through the paneled doors of civil court. So he wasn't here in connection with his felony trial. Both the room and the timing were wrong. Frowning, Maddox tailed him into the high, crowded chamber.

  It only took a minute at the back of the room to figure out that the court was running divorces like train cars through a tunnel. Rob was getting a divorce. From Ann. Today.

  Satisfaction almost robbed Maddox of breath. No way did he want to interfere in that.

  He eased back toward the door. And then he saw her, Annie, sitting straight and quiet and alone, near the front of the room.

  Her thin, squared shoulders snagged his heart. What the hell was she doing here? Only one party needed to show in an uncontested divorce. Rob's lawyer had already handed the decree to the judge. Rob himself stepped forward to testify, suited, serious and handsome. He answered the judge's questions in a low, sincere voice, the perfect picture of a responsible husband sorrowed by his wife's disloyalty.

  Yeah, a good act. And even though it would leave Ann free, Maddox found himself resenting it. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms against his chest. Maybe he'd stick around. Not that his undisclosed presence was likely to do Annie any good. But he found he couldn't leave her sitting there all alone.

  The judge, gray-haired, black-robed and closely shaven, looked up from the judgment in his hand. "Mrs. Cross?"

  She stood, dwarfed by the courtroom and her husband's splendid appearance. Maddox felt his jaw tighten.

  "Yes, sir?" she asked in a faint, clear voice.

  "The court is not used to seeing both spouses appear in cases of this kind. Did you have anything you wanted to say?"

  She shook her head, making her smooth hair swing. "No, sir."

  "Nothing to add? No objections? All issues of custody and support resolved?"

  "I guess. I mean, yes, sir." Her hands fluttered at his evident displeasure. The room was very quiet, the judge waiting, the lawyers waiting, the other plaintiffs waiting for her to finish so they could get on with their scheduled divorces and their lives.

  She put up her chin, saying softly, "It's just … I was there at the beginning, and I thought I should be here at the end."

  Her words, plain and brave and decent, restored dignity to the train-station rush of the court. Maddox could have saluted. In the no-fault atmosphere, her quiet acknowledgement of past misjudgments and mistakes, her simple assumption of responsibility, stood square and true. Her sincerity trembled in the high-ceilinged room like the echo of a bell.

  Rob's face flushed. His lawyer looked down.

  The judge cleared his throat. "Very good, Mrs. Cross. Divorce granted."

  Ann blinked. She felt a little stunned. She'd come for closure. And now she had … what? Freedom? Could she really be free?

  Rob's lawyer approached the bench to collect the papers from the judge. Ann gathered her thoughts and her purse and turned to go. She did not look at Rob. She did not want to check her reactions in the mirror of his mood, to let his response define hers. It was over.

  Her shoes made too much noise as she walked between the rows of chairs, awkward as a mourner at a funeral. She was here to bury her beaten-down hopes, to mark the death of her naiveté. She didn't feel free. Her bones felt heavy. Her head felt light. She almost stumbled into someone on her way out of the courtroom.

  Someone broad and solid in a dark blue uniform.

  "You should have been the one to divorce him," Maddox growled over her head.

  She raised her gaze from the center of his chest—he blocked her way like a building—and stammered, "Wh-what are you doing here?"

  "It's my court date." She must have looked confused, because he explained. "I get assigned once a month to come in and testify on all my collars." He stooped to examine her face with his cop's eyes that saw too much. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  He raised one of those sandy eyebrows at her, and she flushed, the memory of her own words rising between them. I've heard enough lies—told them to myself mostly.

  "Really," she insisted. "It's just a little hard to take in that it's over."

  "It's not right." Maddox's mouth was grim. "He was the one at fault. You should have been the one filing for divorce."

  She smiled, touched that his sense of justice was offended on her behalf. "It would never work that way. Rob
controlled the marriage. There was no way be would give me power over the divorce. And after all the things I said about him… I may have left him, but he had to divorce me."

  Maddox scowled. "That's bull."

  His anger didn't frighten her. Later, she would think about that, and wonder. But right now, his wrath warmed her.

  "That's the way it had to be. It's all right." she reassured him gently. "I got what I wanted. What I needed."

  "Ann!"

  She flinched at the sound of her husband's voice. Ex-husband's voice, she reminded herself firmly, but his change in status didn't seem to have any effect on her nerves.

  Rob sauntered toward them flashing his "trust me" smile. She tightened her hold on her purse.

  "You sure got out of there in a hurry. You didn't give Henry a chance to hand you your papers," he reproached her.

  She fought the urge to apologize. "He can mail them."

  "Oh, I wouldn't let him do that. You can't leave without your papers."

  She felt the slow crawl of blood in her face. He made her sound like a dog. As if all she needed to go out in public now was a collar and a new keeper. Without her willing it, her gaze flickered to Maddox.

  "Hey, MD." Rob's genial tone never faltered, but his eyes were cold and hard. "I didn't expect to see you here."

  Maddox lifted his brows slightly. "Yeah, a cop in a courthouse is a real unusual sight."

  "Ha, ha. So, what are you doing here?"

  Ann held her breath. Rob might not want her, but he could get ugly if he thought someone else did.

  "I've got a case over in criminal court," Maddox said finally. "I saw Annie and thought I'd come over and say hello."

  "Well, wasn't that friendly," Rob said. He turned back to Ann. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

  She exhaled. "No. No hard feelings."

  "Good. You know my offer's still open for Saturday night. Just to prove to everyone we can be civilized about all this."

  She didn't feel very civil. And she had nothing to prove to anyone at the club. "Thank you, but no."

  "I wish you'd reconsider." Rob stepped closer, dropping his voice confidingly. "We wouldn't want Mitchell to think his parents can't get along like reasonable human beings, now, would we?"

  It was a threat, made in the same rich, persuasive voice that talked her out of her panties and virginity at eighteen and into marriage four months later. The same voice that kept her captive for ten years, that made her doubt the screaming wrongness of her life and the bloody evidence in her mirror.

  Stop making a fuss.

  You're overreacting.

  If you were any kind of wife to me…

  If you just wouldn't make me so angry…

  If she made him angry, he would take it out on Mitchell.

  She moistened her lips. "I don't want to be any trouble."

  "Then say yes." Rob smiled charmingly. "I'll pick you up around seven."

  Maddox stiffened. It's over, she'd told him, but she was wrong. As long as Rob had power over their son, it would never be over.

  Her stomach churned. She didn't want to go with him. But she didn't want to antagonize him, either. For Mitchell's sake. Maybe if she gave him one more night to play the wronged but generous husband he would leave them alone?

  She swallowed. "Actually," she said, "I already told Val I'd go with her. Con's on a consulting trip, and she wanted company. Maybe we'll see you there."

  It was a partial capitulation, a promise of public support. But was it enough to appease him?

  Apparently so, because he nodded. "That might do. And for God's sake, wear something nice. I don't want people thinking I'm not giving you money."

  He wasn't, except for minimal child support. But she wasn't eager to go there. Not with Maddox bridling at each new proof of Rob's continued hold on her. She just wanted to get away.

  "I'm sure I have something."

  "The blue thing's not bad. At least it covers you decently."

  That had always been important to Rob, that she cover the parts of herself he wasn't interested in any longer. Just because you acted like a slut in high school doesn't mean you have to dress like one now.

  She bit her lip. She wasn't sure what she said in reply. She was too conscious of Maddox, seething and dangerous beside her.

  And Val. Oh, dear. Val wasn't going to be happy with her, either. She'd just committed her best friend to an evening of committee talk and Rob. Rob, who had tried to kill her. And now Val would have to acknowledge him at the club.

  No wonder Rob oozed satisfaction as he left.

  Ann closed her eyes, trying to shut out the crowded lobby and the knowledge of what she'd done.

  "What the hell was that about?" Maddox asked.

  His tone should have upset her. But at least Maddox was direct in his anger. She knew where she was with Maddox.

  She opened her eyes. "There's a dance at the club tomorrow night. Remember? Rob offered to give me a ride."

  "And you turned him down."

  "And he backed out of taking Mitchell to the fireworks."

  "So now you're going to do what he wants?"

  Her hands were shaking. She folded them together. "No. Not exactly."

  "No? What—exactly—do you think he's after?"

  His voice was rough. He was big and intimidating and scornful, and she still wanted to crawl into his pocket. Boy, did she have lousy instincts.

  "I don't know," she said wearily. "Maybe it's just what he says. Maybe he wants people to see him as the wronged, understanding husband for one night."

  "Or maybe he can't let you go."

  She blinked. "He just divorced me."

  "In my line of work, that's usually the most dangerous time. You're leaving his control."

  A memory swamped her of the emergency room the night Rob broke her nose. Bright lights and efficient hands, white linen, red blood and pain. The nurse had given Ann the phone number of the women's shelter, printed on an anonymous slip of paper to hide in her shoe. You don't want him to know you're leaving, honey, the tired nurse explained. There's no telling what he'll do.

  She knew. He'd told her. I'll kill you.

  She felt his past threats in her flesh, like deep, enduring bruises, and along her bones, like old fractures.

  She folded her arms at her waist. "He's been better this week. Friendlier."

  Maddox looked down at her with his cop look, strong and skeptical and in charge, and she had to fight a burst of resentment.

  "You ever ask yourself why?" he asked.

  "I'm not stupid. Of course I wondered."

  "He saw us together Monday night at your son's ball game. Could be he's worried."

  "That I'm involved with you," she said flatly.

  "Or that I'm involved with you. Maybe his lawyer warned him about letting a key witness for the prosecution play footsie with the cops."

  "What difference would that make? I thought the investigation was over."

  "Not until trial."

  "Have you…" Her mind grappled with the possibilities. Rob guilty. Rob vengeful. Rob locked up. Her head pounded. She so did not want to deal with this. She bad enough to deal with. But this entire mess was her fault, because she hadn't had the guts to stand up to Rob in the first place. She owed it to Val to see it through to the end. She owed it to herself.

  She took a deep breath. "Have you found out anything new?"

  Maddox hesitated, as if debating what to tell her. So he didn't trust her. She wasn't surprised.

  "Not yet," he said. "But if I do, you can bet old Robbo is going to want to find some way to undercut your testimony."

  "He can't do that. The police have my statement."

  "Sure we do. But if he can produce forty witnesses to swear you let him twirl you around the dance floor the day after your divorce, he can poke holes in your story about what an abusive jerk he is."

  She winced. Everything he said was true. But it shamed her that he saw it so clearly.

  "Well,
that explains his interest in me very nicely."

  Maddox frowned. "I think you should be aware of his motives, is all."

  "Yes. Thank you. Obviously, a man would need an ulterior motive to come after me."

  "I'm saying Rob would," he said carefully.

  Above her raging headache, her thoughts darted quick as swallows. "You're thinking anyone would. You did yourself."

  Maddox stiffened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You came to see me because Rob asked you to straighten me out."

  His expression wiped clean. "Well, I guess you've got me figured. Me and old Rob, we're one and the same."

  She should have known he wouldn't deny it. But even through her distress, she recognized she was being unjust. Guilt pinched her.

  "I didn't mean it like that."

  "Sure." His tone was dismissive. Flat. Accepting of judgment.

  She'd hurt him, Ann realized. It simmered in his eyes. It radiated from his stiff, unyielding posture.

  The knowledge shook her. She was almost more afraid of his pain than his anger. She hadn't known she had that kind of power over him. She was pretty sure she didn't want that responsibility. Her life was complicated enough without her taking on a big, tough cop with his own emotional baggage.

  Chicken. Bad enough that she didn't defend herself. Was she really such a coward that she would strike out at the one person who might be trying to help her?

  She sighed. "I'm sorry."

  His face was still carefully blank. "I don't want your apologies."

  If they weren't in public, she would have risked touching him. She would have liked to touch him, the angles of his face, the hard curve of his biceps beneath his uniform sleeve.

  "Why not?"

  He shot her an annoyed look. She wasn't sure if that was an improvement over the granite cop face or not. "I don't want your pity."

  "Well, good, because I don't feel sorry for you. But I do appreciate that you're trying to help."

  "I don't want your damn gratitude, either."

  She put up her chin. "Maddox … I'm a convicted felon on probation. A witness in an attempted murder case. Before you get mixed up with me, maybe you should think about what you do want."

  The memory of his words whispered between them, roughening her nerve endings. You are what I want, Annie. You've always been what I want.