Protecting His Witness

by Marie Ferrarella

  * * *

  She wanted to hang on to this, to him, to the sparks that still danced and throbbed throughout her body. Such an incredible feeling of well-being, of contentment, coursed through her veins. Feelings she had been so certain were lost to her. Except that here they were, alive and well. And back.

  It was enough to make her want to cry.

  But even as she struggled to tighten her grip around these elusive feelings, she could detect the glorious euphoria. Soon she would only have the memory of the deed itself.

  She'd made love with a stranger. Sold herself out for the price of an ethereal high. Worse, she'd sold out Jim's memory. Betrayed him. The guilt all but choked her, creating an incredible lump in her throat. She could hardly draw breath. What she did was draw away from the man next to her. Shrank back, actually.

  Oh God, what had she allowed herself to go and do in the name of need?

  Wasn't she made of sterner stuff than that? Since when was she driven by a need for sex? Because that was what it was, sex, pure and simple.

  Well, maybe not so pure and not really all that simple, but it was sex nonetheless.

  When he tried to slip his arm beneath her, she pulled back. He could almost read the regret in her eyes. But that would spoil it, he thought. And he didn't want it spoiled.

  He tried again, this time a little more forcefully, and slipped his arm beneath her, pulling her gently to him. He raised his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No regrets," he told her.

  The action had been so tender, she could feel tears springing up in her eyes. Damn it, she hadn't cried in all these months, why now? Why in front of him, this stranger who seemed to know all the right buttons to press to completely unravel her?

  "I feel like I'm coming apart," she told him, her voice thick.

  "You were very, very together," he assured her. "And you can only come apart if you let yourself."

  She tugged the edge of the comforter over herself. It didn't help. She might be covered, but she still felt utterly naked. "What makes you think you know me?"

  "That's the part I can't explain. But I do. I might not know your background, or where you came from, or who your last lover was, but I know you. There's something inside of you that speaks to me."

  "This line work for you?" she asked flippantly. "To help you pick up women?"

  "I have no idea, I've never said it before. And you're not the type to say lines to," he added.

  "I had a fiance," she said suddenly, sitting up and bringing her knees to her.

  He found himself looking at her naked back. Found himself having the same urges that had stormed through his body earlier, as if they'd never been attended to.

  She used the word had. Relief scurried through him. "What happened?"

  "He was killed. Right in front of me."

  He thought of his own life. Of the world he knew. "Was he a cop?"

  "No." She'd already said too much. It wasn't safe to tell him. For both their sakes. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said suddenly, turning to him. Letting the comforter pool at her waist. "Make me forget, Zack. Make me forget I ever saw anything."

  Pulling her down to him, he switched places until he was looming over her. "I'll do my best, Kasey," he promised just before he brought his mouth down to hers again.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  The tinny, melodic sound scissored through her dreamless sleep, drawing her to the surface.

  The moment her eyes opened, Kasey bolted upright.

  That was a phone ringing. Hers? No one had her number except for Edwin and he was still out of the state. She doubted if he'd be calling her at this hour.

  But who else would be calling her? Unless...

  What if they'd tracked her down?

  Adrenaline raced through her veins as half-formed thoughts and fears vied for space in her head.

  Then her surroundings sank in.

  She was in her bedroom. And she wasn't alone.

  Fear ratcheted up to another, more extreme level. And then she remembered last night. All of it. And Zack.

  It was his phone, not hers, that rang.

  Kasey released the breath she was holding.

  Awake at the first ring, Zack tumbled out of his side of the bed, searching for the source. The last time he'd seen his phone, it had been in the front pocket of his jeans. The jeans he had kicked off somewhere between here and the back door.

  After locating them, he dug into first one pocket, then the other before finding his cell phone. He flipped it open and placed it against his ear. Snapping out an irritated "Yeah?" he listened in silence to whoever was on the other end of the call.

  Slowly he returned to the bed and sat down on the edge. His back was to her, but she was well acquainted with tension when she saw it. This wasn't a casual call.

  A girlfriend?

  A wife looking for her husband?

  He could be someone's other half. What was it she knew about him anyway, other than the fact that he had made the world stand still for a little while?

  Kasey drew the comforter around her just as she heard him sigh and say, "Right. I'll be there." He punctuated the promise by snapping his cell phone closed again.

  Jeans still in one hand, the phone in the other, Zack turned around. He had to go. Even so, the same kind of longing he'd felt last night stirred the moment he looked at her. Making love with Kasey hadn't tempered that desire one iota. If anything, having her only heightened his need for more.

  With effort, he banked it down.

  Or tried to.

  "I've got to go," he told her.

  "Emergency?" she heard herself asking stiffly.

  So much for not prying, she thought ruefully. She'd made up her mind that last night had been an aberration, "just one of those things." That meant she had no right to ask him questions and he had no right to ask her anything.

  And yet the first thing out of her mouth was a personal query. What was wrong with her?

  "Friend in need," he corrected, lying. He wouldn't have called the captain a friend, unless he employed the broadest definition of the word, and he wasn't heading out to come to Valdez's aid. He was heading out—if he ever got his pants on—to do his job. The net around the elusive computer identity thieves was about to be closed and he needed to be there to insure that the thieves didn't suddenly pull up stakes and disappear the way they already had twice before in the last twenty-one months.

  This was his setup and he needed to be there for the takedown.

  Almost as much as he wanted to be here.

  Kasey glanced at her watch. It wasn't even four in the morning. What kind of people did he know? "I guess that qualifies you as friend of the year."

  Did she believe him? Or did she think he was lying to her? And why did it even matter? But it did. He didn't want her to think of him as a liar, even though, technically, he was. But not by choice.

  Zack tried to sound as sincere as possible. "I owe them a favor."

  "But you don't owe me an explanation," she interjected, absolving him of the need to say anything further, truthful or otherwise. "I didn't mean to make it sound as if you did," she apologized with a hapless shrug. "I'm afraid I haven't had much practice at this two-ships-in-the-night kind of thing."

  She was giving him a way out, he thought. A way to end this liaison without having it get messy. Except that, it occurred to him, he didn't want it to end, at least not yet. He wanted to see her again, be with her again. More now than before. That was unusual in itself. Ordinarily, once he slept with a woman, all sorts of concerns began to slip in, which made any relationship difficult. He had his demons to wrestle with, demons he feared would emerge once he became comfortable with a woman. So he didn't let that happen. Instead, he would begin winding things down, taking down tents, doing everything it took to move along.

  And yet here she was, pointing him toward the road, making it easy for him—and he didn't want to go.


  Zack zipped up his jeans, then leaned over the bed. He slipped his fingers through her hair, cupping her head and tilting it up toward him. He smiled into her eyes.

  "My ship would like permission to return to the harbor sometime very soon." He'd almost said "tonight" but something had stopped him. Instinct, he supposed. Not the self-preservation kind but one that told him he'd be moving too fast for her if he came back tonight. Even if he could manage that.

  Fear and delight played tug-of-war within her. She squelched both. In all likelihood, Zack was probably just saying that, she thought. It was a line, like "I'll call you," and meant nothing except to clear away any awkwardness for the time being.

  Still, a grain of hope beat within her breast as she said, "All right."

  She didn't really believe him. He could see it in her eyes. And suddenly, he wanted her to believe him. He needed to say or do something to convince her that he wasn't just talking. And then it came to him.

  "How do you feel about weddings?" he asked as he picked up his shirt from the floor and put it on.

  Kasey's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?"

  Maybe he should have started out with an explanation, he upbraided himself. But he was pressed for time, so he talked fast.

  "My mother's getting married next week. It's going to be a big family thing. The groom's got enough family to populate a medium-size village." And most of them were in law enforcement, but he kept that to himself for the time being. "Anyway, I thought maybe," his fingers flew along, closing buttons, tucking in his shirt, "if you weren't busy, I could bring you with me."

  "To your mother's wedding," Kasey said, trying to decide whether or not she believed him.

  Was this all just a ruse to allay any suspicions she might have? Or was he coming on strong? She honestly didn't know which side she was rooting for, if any. While she missed taking part in any actual day-to-day life, suddenly being pulled back into it made her feel somewhat uneasy. Unprepared. She'd gotten rusty.

  And if it was on the level, she felt a twinge of guilt over immersing herself in his family while allowing her grandmother to go on possibly believing that she was dead. Oh damn, what she wouldn't give for life not to be this complicated, to be filled with grueling, spirit-draining thirty-hour shifts at the hospital and nothing else.

  Studying her reaction, Zack debated withdrawing the invitation. He didn't want Kasey to feel pressured. But just as quickly, he decided against rescinding the invitation. He wanted her to come and meet his people.

  Maybe he was growing up—or just going through a phase, he amended, mocking himself. Either way, he wanted Kasey there with him.

  "Yeah, to my mother's wedding. I think you'll enjoy yourself—or, at the very least, see that you didn't have such a deprived childhood after all. My brother and sisters will be there."

  She didn't give him an answer right away. Instead, still wrapped in the comforter, she eased off her bed and accompanied him to the front door.

  "So what do you say?" he asked, turning toward her at the door.

  "Go help your friend, he's waiting for you." Kasey realized that she'd made an assumption about the caller. Maybe it hadn't been a man, but a woman who needed him. "Or she's waiting for you," she said.

  "He," Zack told her, reading between the lines. "It's a he."

  She nodded and tried not to grin. "Okay, he's waiting for you."

  His eyes held hers. He wasn't leaving until he had an answer. "That's not what I was asking about."

  Her expression was just a touch rueful. "You mean the invitation."

  He put his hands on her bare shoulders. The temptation to draw away the comforter was hard to resist, but he held himself in check because if he followed through, he wasn't going to make the bust, not for a good long while.

  "Right."

  The opportunity to be normal, to share a normal event with normal people was too much for her to turn down. Kasey could literally feel herself weakening until she gave in. The entire process lasted approximately thirty seconds.

  "You're sure your mother won't mind?"

  He was the son Lila McIntyre—soon to be Cava-naugh—despaired of. He never brought anyone around for her to meet. This, he knew, would be a welcomed reversal of behavior.

  "My mother will be thrilled," he promised her.

  Kasey's mouth curved. "All right, then, I'll go with you to thrill your mother."

  His margin of time was evaporating. He should have already been behind the wheel of his car and on his way to the scene of what Randall, the mastermind of the tristate gang, thought was going to be the site of his greatest triumph. Even if he left this second, he was going to have to bend all the speed limits from here to his destination.

  But he didn't want to leave without kissing her one more time.

  He allowed himself no more than thirty seconds. Any longer and he wasn't going anywhere.

  "Great." The single word described both his satisfaction with her answer and his reaction to kissing her goodbye. Because it wasn't a parting kiss. To him, it was an invitation for more. A great deal more.

  As he hurried out her door, Zack found himself really looking forward to that.

  * * *

  Kasey didn't go back to sleep after double-locking the door in Zack's wake. She'd actually tried, for about fifteen, twenty minutes, but she knew the effort was doomed to failure. She was too keyed up to drift back to sleep for even a few minutes. The man had left her far too stirred up even before he'd kissed her goodbye.

  Was this a mistake, getting involved with Zack? she wondered as she took one of her quick, three-minute showers. And just who was she getting involved with anyway? Someone who got mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night, phone calls that had him running off into the darkness without much of an explanation.

  For all she knew, he could be a drug dealer. After all, he had gotten shot the first night she'd found him. And he'd never volunteered what he did for a living.

  Because you didn't ask.

  Even if she had, would he have told her the truth? she wondered. Or would he have come up with some sort of plausible lie? Did he lie for a living? Was he a fugitive, a criminal?

  You're a fugitive, remember?

  Drying off, she stopped to hold her head as questions multiplied inside, taunting her. Oh God, she was tired of being distrusting. Tired of being cut off from life in general. Well, she wasn't all that cut off from life last night.

  She went to her closet and pulled out a simple black pencil skirt and a black-and-white pullover. Moving to the bureau, she took out fresh underwear and began getting dressed.

  Kasey paused for a moment, remembering. Reflecting. She had no idea what to make of or call last night, other than pure ecstasy while it was happening. He'd made her body sing, made her soul get lost in sensations, some of which she'd honestly never experienced before, despite the fact that she had always thought of Jim as a consummate lover.

  Would there be consequences for last night? Was she letting her guard down too fast?

  Maybe he hadn't crossed her path by accident, maybe it had all been orchestrated to seem casual, but wasn't.

  Maybe—

  She yanked her pullover over her head, angrily punching her arms through the capped sleeves. She felt like a ball at a tennis match, battered from one side to the other and then back again.

  Enough.

  "Damn it, Krys, you've read too many mysteries, seen too many movies. Things aren't usually as complicated as all that," she told her reflection as she pulled a brush through her hair. She was making up scenarios in order to push Zack away.

  Because she was scared.

  Scared to feel and risk losing again.

  Was it better not to have anything to lose? The end result was the same: emptiness.

  "Get over yourself," she told the reflection in the mirror. She put the brush down and peered closely at her image, checking her roots. Looking for a telltale sign that would give away her true color. But they were still dark. Sh
e was still all right. For now.

  After giving herself a last once-over, she went to the kitchen for some coffee. She still had a bookstore to open.

  * * *

  There were times when being a patriarch had its drawbacks. Looking back, Andrew Cavanaugh could hardly remember when he wasn't the one in charge, whether of the entire police force, or of his own mushrooming family. Most of the time, that suited him just fine. He liked it that way.

  But every so often, he became acutely aware of the burden, not just the joy.

  As he looked at his nephew Patrick, his niece Patience and their spouses, it occurred to him that most of the discomfort he faced as head of the family had to do with his younger brother Mike.

  This time was no different, even though Mike was dead and had been for years. He was still cleaning up Mike's messes, still trying to smooth out incredibly challenging situations.

  He didn't want to upheave these young people's lives, but he had no choice. Mike had left him no choice.

  As far back as he could remember, even when he was a boy, Mike had made it known that he felt shortchanged by life. He never seemed to understand that anything worth having had to be earned. Mike never saw what he had accomplished, only what he hadn't.

  For the most part, Andrew knew that his younger brother felt overshadowed both by him and by Brian. Hell, it was easier to complain about circumstances than to try to rectify them. Or make his own unique imprint in the world.

  Mike preferred complaining and losing his soul to a bottle.

  Looking back, Andrew had to admit that Mike had been a malcontent. His jealousy made him not the easiest man to get along with. Though he didn't want to admit it at the time, Andrew knew that Mike had even tried to break up his marriage by trying to get his wife Rose to run away with him. Whether his brother wanted to do it because he was really in love with Rose or for revenge, Andrew didn't know.

  But despite all these flaws and shortcomings, never in his wildest dreams would he have suspected that Mike would have fathered a second family. Not only that, but Mike had cut the children and their mother off entirely, leaving them all to fend and provide for themselves. And ultimately leaving it up to him to find a way to bring about a reconciliation, Andrew thought now. Because that was what he was bound to do. To bring them all together.