Deadly Secrets

by Ann Christopher

  Kerry nodded again, his gaze dropping to the bottle of soy sauce.

  “My mother bought into his whole charming spiel about this time being different and it’s a whole new beginning and so on and so forth. She expected me and my sister to buy into it too. But I hated her for being a fool and him for blowing up anything good that happened. And for being gone all the time even though I wished he was gone when he was there.”

  Another nod.

  “And yes, I’ve built my entire life around not being my mother or my father. So now it’s my job to get criminals like him off the street so they don’t ruin civilian lives.” It occurred to her that she’d been talking for a long time. She gave him a tight smile. “Any other questions?”

  “Yeah. Should I have the dragon roll or the stir fry?”

  She blinked, then burst into startled laughter. “Seriously?”

  He wasn’t laughing. “Jayne. Thanks for telling me.”

  She waved that away.

  “I mean it. If you can overcome a bad beginning, maybe I can too,” he said.

  There he went getting the wrong idea. “I wouldn’t say I’ve overcome. I’d say I’m working on it. And I’m determined to succeed.”

  “So am I,” he said.

  They watched each other in silence for a moment, which gave her time to wallow in the type of mutual understanding she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt with anyone, except maybe her sister. Determined as she was to keep her head on straight, he sure didn’t make it easy when he looked at her with that steady empathy.

  Worse than that?

  The way his expression radiated quite admiration.

  And the quiet intensity of his banked desire.

  “So,” she said shakily when her skin began to heat and she found her attention dipping to his lips. “Can I ask you about growing up now? College? Med school? That’s easy dinner conversation, right?”

  He made a face. “Have we met?”

  “Oh, dear God. Hit me with it.”

  He sighed and focused on wiping the condensation off his water glass. “We were dirt poor. Actually, we couldn’t afford dirt. My grandmother was a cafeteria lady. She owned her tiny house only because my grandfather’s life insurance paid for it. He died when I was really little.” He hesitated. “She worked with Wanda Gregory. Kareem’s mom. She was a teacher. He and I grew up together.”

  Jayne nodded.

  “I was really smart,” he continued. “Not as smart as I thought I was, but still pretty smart. Got a scholarship to Denison. Lost the scholarship when I had a tough time making the transition to upper-middle-class life.” He rubbed the top of his head. “Kareem was happy to step in and float me a loan.”

  The wine soured in her mouth. “I’ll bet he was.”

  “That was the first big mistake I made with Kareem,” he said dully.

  “Getting into debt with him?”

  His expression tightened. “Trusting him with something that mattered to me. Giving him ammo to use against me. Digging myself into a hole I couldn’t get out of without his help.”

  “I’ve always wondered. You glossed over all that during your interviews.”

  “Back when you were just a fed and not a person?”

  “I was always a person. But sometimes I’m a fed first.”

  “I prefer Jayne first.”

  She could see that. It was written all over his body language and the way he leaned toward her with his elbows on the table and his forearms and hands well into her space, within easy touching distance if she took own hands out of her lap.

  “Don’t try to sweet-talk me.” It was hard to sound stern when her entire existence was focused on how great it would feel to twine her fingers with his for this conversation. “Tell me what happened.”

  He studied her carefully, a long and measured look that skipped over things like her hair and makeup and instead drilled down into her character and soul.

  “If I open up to you, I don’t want it to come back and bite me in the ass one day.” There was no compromise in his tone. No potential for negotiation. “You can’t use it against me or throw it in my face when we get into a fight.”

  The demand contained way too much meaning for her to process. There was too much naked vulnerability in his voice and eyes. Too much trust in her. Too much emphasis on a shared future no one had promised them.

  She couldn’t breathe with all the meaning.

  “I didn’t mean to get too personal,” she said on a hasty exhale. “You don’t have to…”

  “Don’t even try it,” he said. “If we were doing things the easy way, neither one of us would be here right now.”

  “Kerry…”

  “It’s easy, Jayne. Don’t answer with your head. Answer from your gut: are we going to try to trust each other or not? Do we want to trust each other or not?”

  Jayne hesitated, because nothing about this was easy at all.

  “How do I know you’re not going to, I don’t know, ask me to reveal information about an investigation into one of your former associates or something?” she said. “I won’t steal files for you. I won’t protect you. Do you understand that I’m never going to talk about my cases with you? My office will never show you special favors because of me. Do you get that?”

  Disdainful snort. “Special favors don’t do jack shit for you when people who are willing to slice you up like a Thanksgiving turkey show up on your doorstep. Screw special favors. Are you in or are you out, Jayne? It’s simple. Yes or no?”

  A beat passed.

  “Yes,” she said helplessly, because the word no was slipping far beyond her reach when it came to him. Had been for a while now.

  He stilled, looking a little startled at first, but then a smile crept over his face and some of the tension leached away from his jaw line and shoulders. Yet the intensity in his eyes was still there, doing a slow burn just beneath the surface.

  He flipped his hand over, palm up.

  It was an unspeakable relief to reach out and take it.

  Electricity surged between them, making him shudder.

  Making her shiver as he ran his thumb over the sensitive skin of her wrist.

  His hand was big but gentle, with long fingers and nails that were short and well kept. Exactly the kind of hand you’d want your doctor to have. And her hand, engulfed though it was, felt right at home with it.

  His thumb ran over her knuckles now, giving great care to each finger.

  “I shouldn’t touch you,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, apparently as arrested by the sight of their skin together (hers was milk chocolate; his was dark) as she was. “Makes it hard to think.”

  Wasn’t that the truth?

  “You should have thought of that. Too late now.”

  “Yeah.” He tightened his hold. “You’re not getting this hand back.”

  “I don’t want it back,” she said, heat blooming all over her face.

  “Jayne…”

  His voice sounded husky, giving her the bone-deep certainty that a confession about how he was starting to feel about her was imminent. And she was just foolish enough, with enough saké under her belt, to believe anything he told her right now.

  “Don’t, Kerry,” she said quickly.

  The light in his eyes intensified, telling her he’d noted the use of his first name.

  “It’s hard not to, Jayne.”

  She believed him. The way the muscles tensed in his hand was a dead giveaway.

  “Still don’t. You were telling me about…him.”

  He nodded, locking some of that emotion away.

  “I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” he said after a pause. “A lot of days, I still can’t figure out how I wound up working for him. I can’t figure out when I gave up my free will for his. I was smarter than he was in school, so I figured I could handle myself. And I was greedy. I know that. I was sick of being the poor kid who didn’t have two cents to rub together. I wanted the shoes and a car. I wanted to go
the grocery store and put the food I wanted into the cart without worrying about whether it was adding up to more than thirty dollars at a time.”

  He shook his head. Laughed bitterly. “One time a bunch of Girl Scouts came through the neighborhood. I wanted some Thin Mints. I’m serious. If I’d had a choice between a week at Disneyland and a box of Thin Mints, Disneyland could kiss my ass. But my grandmother got mad and shooed the girls off our porch. Said she couldn’t have the sugar in the house because of her diabetes. I was only five or six, but I knew we had plenty of other sugar in the house. She couldn’t afford the cookies. But she was way too proud to admit it.”

  “Oh.”

  “We ate a lot of canned meat. Canned tuna. Canned salmon when it was on sale. Hamburger Helper without the hamburger. Sundays were good because there was usually some church thing with food going on. I was always hungry.” He sat back and rubbed his belly with his free hand, some phantom memory making him wince. “When I was in second grade, the school started having free breakfast along with the reduced-fee lunches. It was humiliating, but at least I wasn’t so hungry anymore.” His mouth twisted. “Kareem’s mother always had plenty of good food to eat. I was always welcome.”

  Jayne regretted asking. His turbulent memories were coming through way too loud and clear, as though she’d run a cord from her brain to his and used it to download his pain.

  Kerry ran his free hand over the top of his head, looking frustrated. “All I can say is that Kareem was my brother. And being with him—trusting what he told me—was like being that frog slowly getting boiled in the pot. Kareem was so convincing…”

  “One of the hallmarks of a sociopath is how charming they are. I always thought Kareem was very charming,” she said, thinking back to the time she’d joined Brady for an interview at Kareem’s house, and Kareem had carried on about offering them coffee and making sure they were comfortable.

  “Exactly. He was so charming that you just couldn’t believe that he would lie right to your face or do anything wrong. And I was so smart, right? I would never let myself get involved in something risky or illegal. And by the time I started to think I should hop out of the pot…he had me by the throat and it was way past too late.”

  “Hubris,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “You were proud and overconfident. That was your downfall. Sophocles and Shakespeare wrote tragedies about guys like you.”

  “Not me,” he said flatly. “I’m out of Kareem’s shadow now. I’m going to turn this tragedy around.”

  That made her smile. She held up her glass. “To new beginnings.”

  “To new beginnings.”

  31

  “That’s me,” Kerry said.

  He pointed to a dark-colored Jeep that was probably ten or more years old as they made their slow way out of the restaurant and back across the parking lot to Jayne’s car. Having lingered over dessert and coffee until the servers started checking their watches and giving them pointed looks, they’d finally taken the hint and headed out into the cold.

  How four hours had passed so quickly, Jayne had no idea. All she knew was that his company was addictive, and she’d be jonesing for another hit of it very soon.

  But first, they had to get through their good-nights. She wasn’t going home with him. Absolutely not. Nor would she let him kiss her.

  No matter how hot and tight her skin felt.

  She would ignore the way her nipples ached. And the dull throb between her thighs, which grew more pronounced with each step she took, didn’t exist if she refused to acknowledge it.

  “A Jeep?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. Her memory flew right back to the sweet BMW sedan he drove when he was a lieutenant, the one he’d forfeited when he cut his immunity deal. “How do you, ah, like it?”

  Judging by the amused gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I paid for it with my own money. Which I earned by working hard at a legal job that’s unlikely to get me arrested or killed one day. I love it.”

  “Do you ever miss all the…” She flapped a hand.

  “All the perks? Nope. I had great clothes, great digs and a boss and lifestyle that scared the shit out of me every single day. It was nice being surrounded by beautiful things—I grew up thinking that was what I wanted—but a gilded cage is still a cage.”

  “True,” she said, disarmed by his openness, as she had been all night.

  “So why Columbia Law?” he asked. “In a complete segue.”

  “Columbia Law? Well, they wrote me a nice check and I was desperate to get to New York.”

  “Why?”

  “Big-city life. Fun. Excitement.”

  “So why’d you come back to Cincy?” he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

  “Because I was desperate to get out of New York. Too much big-city life.”

  The soft sound of his laugh trailed along the back of her neck, further agitating nerve endings that already sizzled for him.

  Do not kiss him, Jayne, she told herself sternly.

  By some silent mutual agreement, the closer they got to her car, the slower they walked. Even so, the Volkswagen now loomed ahead of them, as welcome a sight as a rabid dog on an elementary school playground.

  “You love practicing law?”

  “Yeah.” They arrived at the driver’s-side door at last, leaving her no choice but to unlock it, face him and try not to feel the hot curl of desire low in her belly as he stepped closer.

  His voice was mellow and he seemed both relaxed and watchful, as though nothing about her, not even a fallen eyelash, would escape his bright gaze.

  She shivered.

  He noticed, taking great care to wrap her coat collar more tightly around her neck.

  She wanted to laugh and tell him not to bother because she wasn’t the least bit cold. She wanted to slip her arms around his neck, pull him closer and lose herself in this moment, which felt far too precious to let slip by.

  “What do you love about it?” he asked.

  “Hmm…I love analyzing the law and the facts. I love matching wits with defense attorneys. I love thinking fast on my feet and trying to convince the judge that I’m right. I love winning and feeling like I made my corner of the world a little safer today. That’s sappy, isn’t it?”

  “No.” Now riveted by her cashmere scarf, he smoothed it beneath her chin, gently brushing her jaw line in the process. “Not at all. I understand you’re very good at your job. My former attorney all but cried when he heard you were on the case.”

  “That makes me unreasonably happy,” she said, grinning.

  His hot gaze flickered over her face. “Your smile makes me unreasonably happy.”

  Do not kiss him tonight, Jayne. Do not…

  In a desperate attempt not to notice how close they’d drifted or how tender his lips looked, Jayne focused on his eyes.

  Big mistake. She didn’t need to see the heat there. The longing.

  “I told you not to sweet-talk me,” she reminded him, her smile fading. “I’m impervious.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  No, she sure as hell was not.

  “You should let me keep up a defense or two, Randolph. It’s the polite thing to do.”

  “Kerry.”

  She hesitated.

  “Kerry.”

  “The thing is,” he said, his voice as soothing and gentle as a lullaby, “I don’t see why you get to keep your defenses up against me when I don’t have any against you.”

  With that, all her fragile equilibrium spun away from her.

  Why did he stare her in the face like he really meant it? Why did he make it so hard for her to keep this light and easy, the way first dates were supposed to be?

  She backed up a step and forced a carefree smile. “Here it comes.”

  Disappointment flashed through his eyes, but he took the hint and dropped her scarf.

  “Here what comes?”

  “The classic end of the first date, where
both parties agree that they had a great time and should get together again soon, and the woman actually means it, but the man never calls again.”

  “Did you just say you had a great time?”

  “My point is, you wanted to spend a little time together, so we spent a little time together. You’re allowed to reevaluate your opinion. Maybe you’ve had enough of me.”

  He choked on a laugh. “Enough of you?”

  “It’s been known to happen. Just don’t stand there and tell me anything you don’t mean, or that you’re going to do something you have no intention of doing. That’s all.”

  “So…you’re letting me off the hook.”

  “Exactly. You’re off the hook.”

  He stared at her for a beat or two, exasperation radiating off him in waves.

  “Thank God for that. So can you come by the clinic around one thirty tomorrow? We close early on Saturdays. You know where it is, right?”

  She blinked. Gave him the side eye. “Did I unknowingly sign up for a medical procedure, or…?”

  “You can’t expect me to hunt you down in the wisteria garden every day, can you? That wouldn’t be fair. You’re coming by my job. So you can get to know me better by seeing where I work.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “We’re working on the trust issue. You shut me down earlier when we were holding hands. You shut me down just now. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

  Jayne froze.

  “I could announce that I have big plans for you, but what good would that do? You wouldn’t believe me anyway. With you? I’m going to show, not tell. So, tomorrow? One thirty. Don’t be late.”

  She was still frozen, still trying to process everything he’d said, when he opened the car door for her.

  “Good night.” He pecked her on her cheek. “Drive safe.”

  He headed for his car while she tried to balance in an off-kilter world.

  “That’s it?” she called after him with a vague feeling of outrage.

  He swung back around without breaking stride and came at her before she could work up more than a peep of alarm at the wicked glint in his eyes. His hands caught her, one delving deep into her hair to anchor her head, and the other on the small of her back. Her own arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, and her body cried out a breathless yes as he lowered his head.