McLain's Law

by Kylie Brant

  She smiled secretively to herself. To some it might not seem like much, such sharing of mundane information. But from Connor she had the feeling it was precious and rare, and she hugged it to herself as an uncommon gift.

  She walked up to the front door of her house in a mellow mood. She stood docilely by, not even growing annoyed at the way Connor insisted on walking her to the door and unlocking it for her. He stepped in and turned on the living room light, and she started to follow him, thinking in amusement that she was really going to have to object to his machismo. Tomorrow, she decided, swallowing a yawn. Tomorrow she would be back to herself again.

  Connor stood stock-still in the doorway, his piercing look sweeping her living room in a second. “Go back to the car,” he ordered softly.

  Michele was astounded, He really was carrying this too far. He was blocking her entrance into the house, his broad shoulders making it impossible for her to pass by him. “Connor. . . .” she started.

  He never turned to look at her, and her eyes grew round as she saw him draw his weapon from his shoulder holster. “Damn it, Michele, don’t argue with me. Get back out in the car. Now.” His order was given in a whisper, but it was no less commanding for that.

  His tone conveyed an urgency that dissipated her annoyance, and she craned her neck to see beyond Connor to her living area. She swayed on her feet at the sight. The normally neat area was now anything but. Sofa cushions had been tossed to the floor, her bookcase turned over, pictures knocked off the wall. It was as if a giant infant had thrown a temper tantrum.

  “Get back, damn it!” came Connor’s terse whisper, and Michele swung her shocked eyes to him and unconsciously moved back out to the porch. Her compliance was all he needed. He didn’t spare a glance to see that she obeyed the rest of his command, and Michele didn’t. She stayed on the porch, as if rooted to the floor.

  Connor went in low, in police stance, both hands on his revolver. There was no sign of an intruder in the living area or the kitchenette beyond. He advanced to the open doors of the bedrooms, each time approaching carefully, then swinging his body around with both hands aiming the gun. He repeated this with each room of the house until he was assured that no one was there. Only then did he holster his gun and go back to the car for Michele

  Except that Michele wasn’t in the car. She was still on the porch, and his mouth flattened in disapproval at the way she had disobeyed him in a situation that could have been very dangerous. “Damn it, Michele, what’s wrong with you, huh? Do you have a death wish?”

  At her silence he looked more closely at her and noted how stiffly she was holding herself, the way she was biting her lip to still its quivering. He consciously reined in his temper. “There’s no sign of anyone now. Let’s go back to the car so I can radio this in.”

  He held out an encompassing arm, meant to turn her and guide her in the direction of the car. Michele ducked under his arm and slowly walked into her home.

  She moved from room to room as if in a trance, noting in dismay the willful destruction that had been wrought. Connor sighed but didn’t try to stop her, as if aware of the fight he would have if he tried. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned her, but he needn’t have bothered. Both her hands were clutched tightly in front of her, as if she couldn’t control their trembling any other way. Her gasp as she reached the bathroom was audible, and Connor pulled her back against his chest.

  Someone had scrawled across her mirror with a lipstick: “I warned you.” With a dispassionate part of her mind she registered the fact that the lipstick had been carelessly dropped afterward, its smooth point flattened from the abuse. She remembered inanely when she’d bought it. Frivolous Fruit it was called, and she’d wondered at the time who came up with such ridiculous names for products.

  Connor’s hands tightened on her shoulders, and only then did she become aware of his presence behind her. “Come away, Michele.” Her eyes met his green gaze in the mirror. “C’mon,” he repeated softly, and she allowed him to lead her from the house and back out to the car.

  She sat quietly in the seat, unaware of the worried glances Connor was shooting her way while he spoke on the radio. He asked her once, “Did you notice anything missing?”

  Michele shook her head and was proud that her voice was steady when she answered him. “The TV, the stereo and the microwave were there. I’ll have to look closer than that to tell if anything else was taken.”

  She felt as if any second she was going to fly apart into a million pieces, and she held on frantically to the remnants of her sanity. She remained collected while the patrolmen came and checked her home for fingerprints and clues. She followed them from room to room, opening drawers, checking to see if jewelry or anything else was missing. Nothing was. She watched with outward calm as the officers taped cardboard to a living room window that had been smashed to gain entry.

  His princess had something more solid than ice in her, Connor mused. She was pure steel. Any other woman would have dissolved by now after everything she had been through that day. She was still outwardly composed, too damn pale for his liking, but calm nonetheless. He wasn’t fooled, though. He could see that she was near her breaking point—hell, any person he knew would be. That was why he cut short the questioning and bundled both her and Sammy into his car. He drove her quickly and expertly to his house and escorted her inside and to his room.

  Her silent acceptance of his actions worried him more than anything else could. He efficiently and impersonally stripped her and tucked her into his bed. Then he doffed his own clothes and climbed in after her. He pulled her close, as close as he could get her and wrapped both arms around her, hoping to convey comfort, to provide his warmth.

  And when the stiffness failed to leave her body, when her breathing failed to reach the even rhythm that spoke of sleep, he turned and moved over her. Then he proceeded to make love to her with the most earnest expression of absorbed concentration on his face. And it was that look that finally reached Michele and had the tension fading from her limbs. It was in that moment that she knew that she’d fallen irrevocably in love with Connor McLain.

  Chapter 13

  When Connor took her home the next morning, Michele mentally braced herself to face the disarray of her apartment. But despite her trepidation, she was shocked anew when she entered the front door. For far from the chaos of last night, her home had been returned to order. Cushions had been replaced, the bookcase rearranged. A surreptitious peek showed that even the bathroom had been restored to neatness, with no sign of the intruder’s message remaining.

  Connor spoke over her shoulder as she surveyed the renewed neatness in amazement. “I gave Cruz a call after you fell asleep last night. He stopped by early, got your key and cleaned up for you. Dropped the key off again before you’d even awakened.”

  Michele felt tears fill her eyes. She had dreaded returning home again to the mess, to be struck anew with the feeling of fear and anger that someone had violated her home. She was touched at the thoughtful gesture, on behalf of both Connor for making it and Cruz for carrying it out.

  “It was a sweet thing to do,” she told him as she turned and twined her arms around his neck.

  Connor looked at her warily, uncomfortably aware of the tears choking her voice and welling in her eyes. He searched for something, anything, to forestall their inevitable shedding. “I didn’t want to leave you last night, and Cruz didn’t mind doing it. Hell, it’s the least he could do after agreeing to put you through that session with Casel.”

  “I’ll thank him the next time I see him,” Michele affirmed, searching his face. “But you’re the one who thought of it. Thank you, Connor.” She took his hard cheeks in her hands, tilted his head down and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

  Connor couldn’t ever remember having been the recipient of gratitude from a woman he was involved with. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that didn’t keep him from being moved by her kiss, nor from responding to its sweetness.

>   After long moments Michele broke away with a sigh. “I really have to get ready for work if we’re going to leave enough time for you to take me to my car.”

  Connor cleared his throat uneasily. “Uh, Michele, there’s really something we have to discuss.”

  “Can it wait until we get in the car, Connor?” Michele called over her shoulder as she strode toward her bedroom. “I’m going to have to rush as it is.”

  “No problem,” he muttered to her disappearing back. He shoved his fingers through his hair, turning to walk back to the living room. It was his own fault for pussyfooting around the forthcoming subject, but he knew Michele would hit the roof when she heard what he had to say. And after last night he was loath to bring up any controversial subject, no matter how sorely it needed to be discussed. But her safety was his utmost concern, and she was going to listen to him, regardless of her views.

  Last night had brought home to him in the most chilling way possible that Michele was in a great deal of danger. She was obviously being stalked by a nutcase who was becoming progressively more violent. And Connor knew in his gut that all of this was somehow tied to the kidnappings.

  He didn’t want to think about what Michele’s intruder might be capable of. Or what would occur if Michele happened to be home the next time he came calling.

  His mouth flattened. No way was he going to allow that to occur. Without her knowledge, he’d assigned a man to watch her house after the second message had been delivered. And in spite of that, the officer didn’t have a damn thing to report. He hadn’t seen a thing.

  It was maddening, but Connor was unused to allowing mere circumstances to dictate his choices to him. Michele needed protection; he would protect her. That was all there was to it. She would buck him on this, she was maddeningly strong- willed, but he was going to insist. No way was he going to allow her to return to this house and be at the mercy of that creep the next time he sprang a surprise visit. She was moving in with him, no argument.

  A warm glow set in at the thought. Moving in with him. He had only lived with one woman in his life, and his ex-wife hadn’t made it a pleasant experience. But he was looking forward to having Michele entwined even more closely in his life. Looking forward to it too much, he reminded himself sternly. This was merely temporary. He had to keep that in mind. How many times had he told himself that he was no good for her, that she deserved better? But as long as he kept that thought in mind, he was free to relish the experience. Because something inside him wanted very much to wake up every morning next to Michele Easton.

  Living together would also make it much easier to keep personal watch over her twenty-four hours a day, another item of his plan that he expected her to fight him on. But he wasn’t going to be moved. He would not allow her to be hurt, and he couldn’t be sure of her safety if he didn’t have her within reach at all times.

  “I’m ready,” Michele breathlessly informed him, rushing by to scoop up her purse. At his silence, she turned back to him inquiringly. “So overcome at my speed that you’re speechless?” she teased.

  She was half correct; he was speechless. Connor swallowed around the lump in his throat at her appearance. She was wearing a belted dress in a pale peach color that clung softly to her curves and accented her coloring. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful, and he knew in that moment that he would do whatever it took to keep this woman safe from harm.

  Michele was puzzled at the almost fierce expression on his face. “Connor? Shouldn’t we be going?”

  She was even more puzzled when he wrapped her close for a moment, holding her tightly. Then, without a word, he led her to the door.

  Her sense of wonder quickly mounted as they rode back to the district headquarters to pick up her car. She listened quietly to his terse explanation. “You want me to move in with you?” Her voice was thin.

  Connor glanced quickly at her. “It’d be safest for you,” he reiterated. “I’ve had someone watching your house, and he didn’t even see that creep last night. And I sure as hell don’t want to take a chance on you being there if he returns.”

  Michele digested this information in shock. The thought that her home had been penetrated despite police protection was horrifying indeed. She shuddered involuntarily. Connor’s voice was flat, devoid of expression, and she wondered wistfully if her safety was the only thing motivating his suggestion. The thought of living with him sent shivers of anticipation down her spine, but she found no corresponding emotion on his face. His suggestion had been delivered in the same calm way he might have suggested that she take her coat along in case it rained.

  She sighed silently. She was already painfully aware that all the feelings in their relationship were embarrassingly one-sided. She hadn’t intended to fall in love with Connor McLain, and she didn’t expect anything but heartache to follow. She was certain that living with him would give her a tantalizing taste of permanence, a permanence that would never materialize. But she was going to savor that taste and hope that it helped the heartache when his job was done and he walked away from her.

  “All right.”

  Connor froze at her words, too shocked to take his eyes off the clogged highway, too afraid of what she would read in his eyes. “You agree?” he croaked, silently damning the incredulity in his voice. Way to convince her, McLain, he derided himself mentally. Sounding like you can’t believe she’s going along with something you just told her makes complete sense.

  Michele felt a tiny smile creep across her face at the abject disbelief in his voice. So, the great detective wasn’t as emotionless about this decision as he would have her believe.

  “Yes, I agree,” she affirmed. And then she admitted, “I’ve always prided myself on being a strong person, Connor, but I’m finding that I’m not a particularly brave one.”

  “What you’ve been through lately would throw anybody.” He swiftly defended her. “Don’t feel like a coward just because you have a normal sense of caution.”

  “I just don’t want to inconvenience you,” she murmured as she gazed unseeingly at the traffic whizzing by her window. “Maybe I should find another place to stay.”

  “No!”

  At his emphatic reply she turned to look at him, but he was still staring straight ahead. Only his grasp on the steering wheel, knuckles white with the strength of his grip gave away his consternation.

  “What I mean is, it makes sense for you to stay with me. You would have to explain to someone else why you need to get out of your house for a while, and besides, it will make it easier for me to keep an eye on you.”

  Michele was amused. “Keep an eye on me? That sounds ominous, Detective.”

  Connor didn’t share her levity. “I’m serious, Michele. Someone needs to be with you at all times. I don’t want you going anywhere by yourself. So I’ll be with you.”

  It took Michele a few moments to interpret his meaning through her sense of amazement. “You’ll be with me? I don’t need a bodyguard, Connor. And I certainly am not going to let you curtail what I do in say free time.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re going to let me do,” answered Connor imperturbably. This was the reaction he had expected from her, and it was somehow easier to deal with since she had agreed so readily to moving in with him. “The only way I can ensure your safety is to watch over you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  She was speechless at his effrontery. “There is no need for that,” she gritted, when she recovered her voice. “You’re busy with the investigation, and I have commitments. I cannot wait around until you’re free to take me everywhere I need to go.”

  This time he did take his eyes off the road to shoot her a warning look. “Use your head, Michele. Your house has been hit when you were out of it, which means that the perp is probably watching it. If that’s so, it won’t be long before he figures out that you’re no longer staying there. Which means the next step will be for him to contact you some other way.”

  His words gave her a s
ick feeling. “You think so?”

  Connor didn’t spare any regret for the fear he knew his words had rekindled in her. She needed to face the facts, and the sooner the better. This was going to be difficult enough without her fighting him every step of the way, and he meant to instill enough fear in her to make her cautious. “I know so.” His voice was flat. He frowned consideringly. “It’s probably safe enough for you to drive to work today, but afterward I want you to pack what you’ll need and go over to my place.” He reached into his pocket with one hand and pulled out a spare key, which he offered to her. “And after today I don’t even want you driving anywhere.”

  She was openmouthed at his arrogance and made no move to take the key from him. After a moment he reached for her purse and dropped the key inside. She strove to stay calm, to use reason. “You cannot honestly expect me to wait for you to take me to work, pick me up and follow me around on whatever professional commitment or errand I happen to have. For one thing, our schedules will never allow it. What happens when I’m ready to leave for the day and you aren’t?”

  “No problem,” he answered with more assurance than he felt. He had been wondering the same thing. He maneuvered the car onto a ramp that would take them downtown. “When I can’t make it, Cruz will take over for me.”

  “Oh, great,” Michele said sarcastically. “I not only have one but two watchdogs. Get serious, McLain.”

  The look he shot her convinced her that humor was the farthest thing from his mind. “I’m utterly serious, Michele, and I won’t take any flak about this. Anywhere you have to go I’ll accompany you, or you won’t be going, either. So the best thing for you to do is to clear your calendar as much as possible and give me a list of the things you absolutely can’t get out of, so I can arrange my schedule to include them.”