Protecting His Witness

by Marie Ferrarella

  Her reaction to his work had been almost violent. Why? Had she been arrested? Done time? Had someone she cared about been harassed by the police? Or had she been harassed? There was more than one bad apple on the force, no matter how much they cleaned house. Had she had a run-in with one of them that had tainted her forever?

  "You have something against cops?" he asked again, his tone as far from confrontational as humanly possible.

  A sinking feeling twisted her stomach into a tight knot.

  Yes, a cop killed Jim. Would have killed me. I don't trust them. I don't know if I can even trust you.

  But she couldn't say any of that, because even telling him that would have meant trusting him and although a part of her desperately wanted to, she wasn't ready to take that step just yet.

  Maybe she would never be.

  "No. I just have something against being held in the dark. Lied to by virtue of the sin of omission," she elaborated heatedly.

  "I couldn't tell you who I was then without jeopardizing the case I was on. I wasn't the only one involved." He might be willing to risk his own life, but there was no way he would risk the lives of the men who'd gone undercover with him.

  She could use this as an excuse to flee. To be alone again. But the words wouldn't come. God help her, she didn't want to be alone again. "And that's over with now? The undercover thing?"

  He nodded. In the distance, he heard a car honking. Were they calling him? "Yes."

  "Is that why you were shot?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "Who shot you?"

  "Doesn't matter now." He slipped his arm through hers and began to lead her toward the front of the church. There was now an unobstructed path. Everyone had gone outside. "What matters is that I don't want the fact that I'm a cop to drive you away." He knew women who would have nothing to do with someone on the force because the risk of being a widow was so high. Was that what was stopping her? "I think you should know, though, that this is a family of cops. On both sides," he added. "In that church, you were one of the few civilians in attendance."

  That would explain the uneasy feeling she had the minute she'd walked in, Kasey thought. Though all that had gone down had happened in another town, still one of the people here might know who she was. The odds were against her.

  The knot in her stomach was back.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  Try as she might to fade into the woodwork at the reception, Kasey found that she couldn't.

  For one thing, she wasn't dressed for the part of a shrinking violet or a wallflower. The slinky gown she wore turned heads in her direction no matter where she went. For another, the people at the reception were far too friendly and outgoing to allow her to stand quietly off to the side—even if Zack had abandoned her, which he hadn't.

  For one length of time he was forced to leave her side because the photographer had insisted on taking formal photographs of the wedding party. But even then, Zack made certain that she wasn't alone. Before joining the others, he entrusted her to the care of one of Andrew Cavanaugh's daughters, a very savvy, bright-eyed woman named Callie.

  Like her siblings and most of her cousins, Callie was a detective, too.

  After the proper introductions, she couldn't help wondering who was keeping the streets of Aurora safe. Over half the police department was present here at the community center that Andrew Cavanaugh had reserved for his younger brother's wedding.

  She began to think Andrew was one amazing man. He'd organized the entire reception within a very short space of time. The air at the community center was filled with voices, good cheer and the delicious aroma of the meal that Andrew had stayed up half the night preparing.

  Everyone, absolutely everyone was friendly toward her. She'd expected it from perhaps Zack's mother, and possibly his new stepfather because she assumed the man wanted to make points with his new stepson. But even after Zack returned to her side and they sat down at one of the many tables, an entire legion of people seemed to stop at their table to say a few words to Zack and to her.

  And it wasn't even the inane chatter of strangers, restricted to "Hello" "How are you?" "Isn't this a nice wedding?" or stilted words to that effect. The conversations, short or long, were genuinely warm, teasing and personal.

  It all underscored Kasey's feelings that she had really missed out by not being part of a large family.

  Early in the festivities, Zack's sisters, Taylor and Riley, both eye-catching blondes, swiftly appraised her without actually appearing to do so. Each sister in turn told her that she felt honor bound to share at least a few of Zack's bad habits. There seemed to be enough so-called flaws to go around because neither sister repeated herself.

  His brother, Frank, was different. He didn't come by baring "secrets" about Zack. He stopped at their table to put out feelers. A charmer, it was obvious that Frank was a lover of women. Many women. She had no doubt that they loved him right back. Quick to laugh, he was more outgoing than Zack, more lively. And, she suspected, possibly less solid.

  You sound like you're intending to build a lifetime with the man, instead of just getting through the evening in one piece, the voice in her head taunted.

  Before she could silence it, Andrew Cavanaugh crossed the floor and presented himself at their table. The man was everywhere at once, overseeing the food, seeing to the wedding guests' comfort and still finding time for small talk as he wove his way in and out between the tables.

  Reaching theirs, he clasped Zack's hand in both of his and shook it heartily as if he hadn't just seen him at the church and then for the duration of the wedding photos.

  "Welcome to the family, boy. A lot of new additions this month," he commented, nodding at the table where two young men and a young woman, all incredibly similar-looking, were seated. Then he glanced in her direction and nodded his head, as if she were included in his sweeping statement. Warm approval flared in the man's crinkling smile. "I've gotten seven new nieces and nephews without even trying," he chuckled.

  It amazed Zack how accepting the man was. He'd heard through Dax, Brian's son, about Patrick's father's indiscretion and the trio who had resulted from it. Despite the uncomfortable situation, everyone in the Cavanaugh family was taking to the newcomers—not to mention to him and his family.

  There was a lot to live up to, becoming a Cavanaugh, he thought. But rather than feeling as if the task was daunting, he couldn't help but welcome the challenge. They were damn good people.

  The head of the "good people" looked at him intently at the moment. "Where are your manners, son?" Andrew prodded. He inclined his head toward Kasey. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

  Andrew knew exactly who the woman sitting beside him was. Just because he didn't drive to the police station every day didn't mean that he had lost his edge, his connection. Andrew made a point of knowing everything.

  But for the sake of being polite, Zack indulged the man and made the formal introduction. "Andrew Cavanaugh, this is Kasey Madigan. Kasey, this is—" He paused for a moment, as if weighing the word he was going to use. "My new uncle Andrew."

  Andrew laughed, clapping him on the back. "Good answer, boy."

  "Uncle Andrew's responsible for this reception," Zack told her. Dax had told him about the huge breakfasts Andrew always made, summoning as many of the clan as could come. He'd been told that now that he was one of them, his appearance was expected at least several times a month. He'd also been told that the trip was well worth it. "He likes to cook."

  "I prefer to say I create," Andrew told Kasey, enveloping her hand between both of his as he gently shook it.

  She gazed at the older man in surprise. "Then you're not in law enforcement?" she guessed.

  Andrew had left the force to care for his five children when a freak accident had everyone but him presuming that his wife was dead. He took early retirement to raise his brood and to look for Rose. He succeeded in both endeavors.

  "Not anymore,"
he told Kasey.

  "But he used to be the chief of police in Aurora," Zack added. And, rumor had it, a great deal more capable than his successor.

  "Oh." So he was one of them, too. Was it her imagination, or was the older man peering at her as if he was trying to place her?

  The next moment, her suspicions were confirmed. His eyes on hers, Andrew asked, "Do I know you?" He released her hand, still studying her face. "You look very familiar."

  If Frank had said that, she would have taken it as an opening line. But she knew Andrew meant the phrase as it sounded. That her face had nudged something in the recesses of his mind. Had he seen her picture somewhere in connection to the slaying she'd witnessed?

  With effort, she shrugged off his question. "I have that kind of face. People mistake me for someone else all the time."

  "The face of an angel," Andrew commented.

  "I've only been in town for a few months," Kasey continued, ignoring the compliment. She was completely focused on making Andrew believe that he was wrong about knowing her from somewhere. She didn't want him trying to remember where he'd seen her.

  Andrew sensed the tension in her voice, even though he assumed she probably thought she had it under control. He'd questioned too many suspects in his career not to be aware of it. That kind of an instinct followed you to the grave.

  But for now, there was no reason to make her uncomfortable. It would come to him. It always did. "I'd better make sure the next course is ready on time," he said, taking his leave. He nodded at Kasey as he backed away. "Nice to have met you, Kasey."

  "Likewise," she murmured, forcing a smile to her lips. Ordinarily, she would have meant that. Andrew Cavanaugh seemed very likeable. But something in the older man's gray eyes told her he wasn't about to give up trying to remember where he knew her.

  Was it time to move on again?

  She realized that Zack was talking to her. Rousing herself out of her fear-laced mental fog, she looked at him. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

  The way she had been all evening, Zack thought. But there was no point in saying something like that. She'd only deny it. Pursuing the matter would only lead to an argument that he definitely didn't want to have. She might appear sensual and sexy, but underneath all that, the woman was hiding something. He'd bet his life on it. He didn't want to scare her away before he found out what.

  "Would you like to dance?" he asked, inclining his head toward the small orchestra that played.

  There was a time when she loved to dance. Love to give herself up to the music and let it move her. Now, it was all about control, about keeping her guard up, not drifting off in a man's arms.

  What did she expect to happen here? Someone from the D.A.'s office to appear and serve her with a subpoena? She was getting carried away again, she silently upbraided herself. She had to see the upside of things. Being in a room full of police personnel meant that no one was going to take a potshot at her, no one was going to attempt to blow her away in case she was tempted to once more risk becoming the D.A.'s star— and now only—witness in the murder trial.

  She knew that without her they had nothing. The killer would walk. Jim's killer would walk. But if she came forward again, she might not ever make it to the trial and the case would disappear again. The mob's reach extended everywhere. If she wanted to live, she had to keep on hiding.

  But right this minute, she was safe. For now.

  "I would love to dance," she told him, pushing back her chair and rising.

  Zack had been prepared to coerce her. Her answer surprised him. Smiling, he took her hand in his and made his way to the dance floor.

  He was aware that they were garnering looks as they walked by. Or rather, she was. Not that he could blame anyone. In a room full of attractive people— and the Cavanaughs all seemed to be damn good-looking, he'd noted—Kasey Madigan still managed to stand out.

  And she danced like a dream, he thought several minutes later.

  Or maybe he was the one having the dream, Zack amended as he held her hand to his chest. His other hand was pressed against the small of her back, just where the dress dipped low. He held her to him, so close that her body all but melded into his—the way it had the night they'd made love.

  He wanted to make love with her again. To celebrate his case going down successfully. To celebrate his mother marrying a good man.

  To celebrate having Kasey in his life, he thought, smiling warmly into her face.

  "What are you thinking?" she couldn't help asking.

  That I want to make love to you all night. "About how life surprises you sometimes," he said, doing his best to quiet his racing pulse. "You think you know everything, have everything pretty much mapped out for yourself and then, just like that, it all changes on you. And brings you a surprise all tied up with a big red bow." He realized that there were tears shimmering in her eyes. Oh God, he hadn't meant to make her cry. "Did I say something wrong?"

  "No," she answered a little too quickly. "Something nice."

  His words were wonderful. It wasn't his fault that they described both the best event in her life—and the worst. Because she'd made plans with Jim, happily-ever-after plans and just like that, they were changed. Snuffed out. And just when life was at its bleakest, draining her of all hope, of ever even feeling anything again, Zack had stepped into it. Just like that, there were possibilities.

  A glimmer of optimism wove a bright, silver-threaded tapestry of hope inside of her. Maybe she'd finally be safe here. Maybe she could finally stop running, stop always looking over her shoulder, anticipating the worst.

  Apparently Zack's entire family, not just the new branch but his own immediate small group, including his mother, was in law enforcement. If she couldn't find a measure of safety here amid this fortress of police personnel, then she would never feel safe anywhere.

  It was something to cling to. At least for the time being.

  Kasey went on dancing with Zack, allowing herself to relax. Allowing herself to dream.

  * * *

  She knew he would be coming home with her. Knew he would be staying.

  At the start of the wedding, when he'd picked her up, she'd tried to come up with a nice, plausible way to beg off. It was the sensible thing to do, to discourage him. But now, when the moment of truth had arrived and Zack was standing behind her, watching her unlock her door, she didn't want to send him away.

  She didn't want to be alone. She'd been alone much too long.

  Maybe she was living in a fool's paradise, or maybe this laxness had something to do with the three glasses of champagne she'd consumed. Kasey didn't know. Moreover, she really didn't care.

  She just wanted to have Zack beside her one more night. Wake up with him next to her one more morning.

  And pretend that this was something that would continue for her indefinitely.

  After unlocking the door, she removed the key, slipped it back into her purse. She closed her purse and then looked at him.

  No words were necessary. The invitation was there in her eyes.

  Zack followed her inside and the second the door was closed again, he framed her face with his hands, brought her mouth a little closer to his and then eliminated the small distance between them altogether.

  He kissed her with all the longing that had built up these last few hours, that had escalated to dangerous proportions while he'd been dancing with her.

  When he'd held her in his arms on the dance floor, they'd each been inside the other's shadow. So much so that his body had pulsed wildly with growing desires and demands.

  The way it was doing now.

  Except that now, he didn't have to try to hold it in check.

  The shimmering teal dress peeled away from her like a wrapper, slipping to the floor as softly as the sigh that escaped her lips. Beneath the clinging gown she wore thigh-high stockings, sheer black underwear smaller than a whisper and nothing else.

  His eyes swept over her with deep appreciation. She could have b
rought a dead man back to life. And he was far from dead. The pounding in his chest attested to that.

  "God, but you look like every man's fantasy-come-true."

  Her eyes on his, Kasey pulled out the decorative pins that held up her hair. Freed, it fell in cascading dark waves about her shoulders.

  Mesmerized, Zack felt his breath growing short. He couldn't remember ever wanting a woman as much as he did right this moment.

  "As long as I'm yours," she murmured.

  The wide, appreciative grin that curved his lips almost overwhelmed her. Like the force of an arrow released from a crossbow, it went straight to the heart she'd thought she'd buried eighteen months ago.

  "My thoughts exactly," he told her.

  But when he went to enfold her in his arms, Kasey stopped him. He thought she'd changed her mind at the last minute, but then, to his relief, she swiftly went to work separating him from the tuxedo he still had on.

  With a laugh, Zack started to help her and their fingers got in each other's way. So Zack retreated, raising his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender.

  "You do it," he told her. "You do a better job of it anyway, and besides," he added, nuzzling her, "I like feeling your hands on me."

  Why that bit of information should ramp up her excitement, she couldn't have said, but there was no denying it. So much she could hardly contain the eagerness thundering through her veins.

  She did her best not to tear away the fabric, but the desires she experienced made it difficult.

  Zack stepped out of the last of his garments, then took Kasey by the hand, leading her slowly into the bedroom.

  And suddenly, there were no barriers, no scraps of clothing to get in the way, no excuses to stop what was inevitable.

  They came together like two lovers familiar with each other's bodies but still eager for the thrill as they touched, caressed and reexplored terrain already claimed as all brand-new.