Kansas City Cowboy

by Julie Miller

  “Take a deep breath, Doc. You’re all right.”

  “No, I’m not. This is all wrong.”

  Boone gently grasped her by the shoulders and turned her back to face him. He pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and dabbed at the offending mark on her hand. “I didn’t see anybody else on this level of the garage. You’re safe.”

  He glanced at the empty space around them one more time, ensuring that was still the case.

  But her head trembled back and forth in a subtle no. She doubted the sincerity of his words and was getting set to argue some more.

  And then, because he’d been in pain all day long, because she’d been rattled by a justifiable scare—because their emotions were too raw and too near the surface to ignore—Boone palmed the back of Kate’s neck, dipped his head and pulled her mouth up to his for a kiss.

  Her lips parted on a startled gasp. Her warmth rushed to meet him with one breath and hastily retreated with the next. And then a heavy sigh of release relaxed her mouth beneath his and he felt her leaning in ever so slightly. The kiss was hard. It was gentle. It was quick. And even as he savored the hesitant softening and pliant grasp of Kate’s lips against his, Boone was pulling away, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.

  He stared at Kate for a couple of breathless seconds, taking quick note of the velvety skin at her nape, the artful curve of her pink lips and the thumping of his pulse that charged his body with the desire to kiss her again. Vivid impressions. But none were as clear as the question clouding her verdant eyes.

  Why?

  Boone pulled his hand from her neck. “You with me now, Doc?” He reasoned away the impulse to kiss her by rationalizing that a peck on the mouth was a far less violent and far more pleasurable way to snap her out of that panic attack than a slap across the face would have been.

  Her head moved in the slightest of nods and she pressed the bandanna back into his hands. “If things are safe and no one else is here, there’s no need for you to stay—or to—” her fingers wavered in the general vicinity of her mouth “—do that.”

  “Do that?” he echoed. He should apologize for overstepping the boundaries of friendly acquaintances. But Boone wasn’t about to start lying to Dr. Kate or to himself. Yeah, he was incensed by everything that had happened today that led up to that impromptu embrace. But he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. Chances were, however, she was sorry about kissing him back. “Are you okay, Doc?”

  She tilted her chin and pasted on a smile. But the white-knuckled grip she still had on her keys didn’t fool him. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, but I’m fine.”

  She was forgetting the badge he wore—and that inexplicable connection forming a bond between them that couldn’t be dismissed with a polite thank-you. “We’re not going anywhere until you call for backup, have the lab take pictures and analyze that...graffiti, and you file a report.”

  Kate nodded, dismissing him again. “I’ll do that.”

  Boone stuffed the bandanna back into his pocket, but he wasn’t budging.

  “Why are you still here, anyway, Sheriff?”

  “I realized I never thanked you for everything you’ve done for me today. I know I didn’t give you much of a choice, but you were still mighty gracious about it.” The wind whistling through the garage had nothing on the chill Dr. Kate was trying to throw his way. “I figured we both had to eat. Figured maybe you’d let me take you to dinner. To show my appreciation.”

  “I don’t date, Sheriff Harrison.”

  “Look, about the kiss—I didn’t plan that. That’s not why I was waiting in the garage for you. I mean, you do eat, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. But you don’t owe me anything. I was just doing my job today. I don’t need any thanks from you. And I certainly don’t want to be any more trouble to you. So, good night.”

  Mules weren’t the only stubborn thing his folks had raised on their ranch. Boone pulled back the front of his jacket and splayed his hands at his hips. He didn’t get why he was so attracted to this prickly city woman who had to be as wrong for him as his ex-wife had been. But he clearly understood his duty as an officer of the law, and as a man.

  “You may not need any thanks, but I don’t leave a lady in trouble. I didn’t see anyone following you, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” He inclined his head toward her car. “And clearly someone was here.” Easily overriding Kate’s protest, Boone slid her purse off her shoulder and handed it to her. “Trust me, kissing you was no trouble. But I promise to keep my hands to myself. Make the call.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OKAY?” Maggie Wheeler asked, handing Kate a cup of hot tea and sitting beside her on the rear bumper of the ambulance that had been called to the sixth floor of the KCPD parking garage.

  “I’m fine,” Kate insisted, wrapping her trembling fingers around the warmth of the insulated cup. She appreciated the supportive gesture and true concern from her friend, but hated to see such a big fuss being made over one vandalized car. What she hated more was that the entire task force and several more uniformed officers and a trio of paramedics had shown up in the past hour or so to make a fuss over her. “I’m grateful for the tea, Maggie, but don’t you think all of this is a little bit of overkill?”

  The garage had been deserted an hour ago, but now it was a beehive of activity. Annie Hermann hovered over the windshield of Kate’s car with a flashlight and a cotton swab, verifying that the disturbing message had indeed been written in blood. Pike Taylor’s dog Hans had his nose to the concrete, pulling his handler with him along an unseen trail around car tires and concrete pillars toward the elevator. Detectives Montgomery and Fensom had their heads together discussing possible implications of the attack, while two officers unrolled yellow crime scene tape across the top of the stairwell where Pike’s dog had stopped to sit and tell his handler that he’d identified a particular scent.

  Yet for all the bustle of movement and buzz of conversations, there was one lone figure off by himself, pacing beside the black pickup truck he’d been forced to move to the far side of the garage. Kate’s gaze reluctantly drifted over to Boone Harrison’s slow, purposeful strides. He was like a hungry mountain lion, waiting for the right moment to pounce on his prey—or perhaps more like a new kid in school who hadn’t been invited to join the other students on the playground.

  She knew he was anxious to dive into the middle of the investigation, to find answers that would purge his guilt and give him the healing satisfaction of justice for his sister. She understood why he was still here, and was glad that he’d been there to hold on to when she’d been too rattled to think straight. But the man should go home to his family. At the very least, he should go to his comfortable hotel bed and get some much-needed rest instead of wearing a path in the concrete.

  And then the pacing stopped and the dark eyes found hers across the distance between them. Kate’s fingers tightened around her tea and she huddled inside the blanket the paramedics had draped around her shoulders. What was it about the small-town sheriff that sparked that low hum of electricity inside her and short-circuited her ability to focus on the job at hand?

  Her lips burned at the memory of Boone’s mouth pressed against hers. Her pulse quickened with the desire to lean against his sturdy chest and feel his solid arms around her again.

  She wasn’t quite sure why he had kissed her, or why she had stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him back. There were sound reasons why people in stressful situations turned to each other for comfort and acted out on latent attractions. But she had never given in to such mental weakness before. And she couldn’t quite fathom what sort of weakness Boone Harrison possessed that would lead him to such a physical solution to dealing with her panic.

  Then Boone turned and his hat shaded his eyes, masking the intensity that she just now realized had left her staring at him like some sort of dumbstruck teenager.

  Seriously, Kate? she chided herself, turning her own atte
ntion to the tea in her hands and swallowing a mouthful of hot liquid that burned her tongue and knocked some common sense back into her head. You’re too old and too smart to be distracted by a man. She could ill afford to be blinded by emotions or hormones or whatever it was that made her forget that she’d known Sheriff Harrison for less than twenty-four hours, and that the bulk of that time had been spent arguing with the man or reminding him that he was getting in the way of the work the task force was doing. She’d paid a heavy price for trusting her feelings and believing that the people she cared about had her best interests at heart. She wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

  While Kate organized her thoughts and evaluated her actions, Maggie continued the conversation. The tall redhead gave a wry laugh beside her. “You should have seen how Detective Montgomery rolled out the cavalry when my ex came after me earlier this year.”

  Kate inhaled a deep breath that flared her nostrils and gave her time to respond appropriately. “Yes, but your ex-husband had a violent history,” Kate argued rationally, suppressing the gut-tightening possibility that someone as abusive as Maggie’s late husband had set his sights on her. “There’s a big difference between a man trying to kill you and one who just wants to scare you.” She nodded toward the detectives at her car. “And that’s all our unsub is trying to do—we’ve rattled his confidence by making some headway in our investigation. He’s just reminding us that we haven’t identified him yet, and challenging us to step up our efforts to catch him.”

  Maggie’s freckled face creased into a frown. “That’s how the violence starts, Kate. With a threat, with intimidation. It doesn’t take much more for the fear a stalker instills into every breath you take to become something dangerous or deadly.”

  A chill that even the hot tea couldn’t penetrate shivered through Kate. But she still summoned a brave smile. “I thought you were here to cheer me up.”

  Maggie dropped an arm around Kate’s shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze. “You’re such a strong woman, Kate. I’m sure you’ll be fine. But I don’t want you to make light of a threat like this. Don’t take unnecessary chances. If you feel like someone is after you, and wants to hurt you, let one of us on the task force know. We’re going to fight this guy together.”

  Kate nodded her understanding. “He doesn’t get to win.”

  Maggie smiled again. “Exactly.”

  “Back it up, pal.”

  Kate and Maggie both turned at the deep-pitched warning from the parking-garage ramp. Sheriff Harrison had left his truck to stand nose-to-nose with Gabriel Knight, the reporter who covered KCPD’s activities for the Kansas City Journal newspaper. Only the plastic crime-scene tape and a few inches of attitude separated the two men.

  “Oh, no.” Kate set her cup down on the ambulance’s bumper and let the blanket fall to the concrete at her feet as she hurried over to run interference.

  Gabriel Knight was grinning, sarcasm evident in his expression. “Are you the new guard dog on the task force, Sheriff? It is sheriff, right?”

  Boone didn’t bother answering the questions. “That press card hanging around your neck doesn’t give you the right to trespass on a crime scene. You might have gotten past the cops downstairs, but you’re not getting past me.”

  “You got in my way this morning, cowboy,” the reporter challenged, “but you won’t get in my way again. There’s a story here.”

  “Boone.” Kate touched his elbow, silently urging him to retreat a step. “I’ll handle this.” When he straightened his arm to keep her from moving past him, Kate bristled to attention. He was protecting her again. And she didn’t need that kind of chivalry right now. “This is my job.”

  He glanced down over the jut of his shoulder at her. “Do you know who messed with your car? Does anyone know? What if it’s this guy?”

  “Are you accusing me—?”

  Boone ignored the reporter’s interruption. “I think you’d be a little more cautious about who you let approach you until we get some answers.”

  “And I think you’d be a little more respectful about departmental protocol.” And a little more respectful of the job she’d been trained for. “Creating a scene and alienating the press is not the kind of PR we’re looking for.”

  Gabriel Knight was still looking for his story and the tension between Kate and Boone was feeding right into it. “The grapevine says a task force member received a threat from the Rose Red Rapist. Were you threatened, Dr. Kilpatrick? Is that why Sheriff Cowboy here is so adamant about protecting you?”

  Kate turned her frustration on the dark-haired reporter. “Mr. Knight, we’re not ready to give a statement yet.”

  “Is there a problem?” A voice that could be counted on to remain cooler than anyone here entered the conversation. Spencer Montgomery pulled back the front of his suit jacket and splayed his hands at his hips, calmly asserting his authority and making his disapproval of a confrontation on his crime scene clear. “How did you get wind of this threat, Mr. Knight?”

  A cocky grin curved the reporter’s mouth. “I have my sources.”

  “If your sources are withholding information key to my investigation—if you’re withholding information—”

  “Can’t solve these crimes without my help, Detective?”

  Spencer didn’t take the bait. “Two things. One—” he took a step toward Knight “—KCPD doesn’t talk to you until we’re good and ready. So you’ve got nothing but rumors and hearsay that you can’t print. And two?” Kate retreated a step as the red-haired detective turned toward Boone. “Go home, Harrison. I’m glad you were here for Kate. But we’ve got the investigation covered without your help.”

  Every muscle in Boone’s arm clenched beneath her touch and Kate, not realizing she still held on to him, wisely pulled away.

  “You get it right, Montgomery,” Boone warned. “All of it.” His dark gaze skimmed over Kate, perhaps saying a reluctant goodbye, or maybe just warning her to watch her back, before he met Spencer’s icy stare again. “Or I won’t care whose jurisdiction it is. I’m finding my sister’s killer.”

  * * *

  “THIS ISN’T RIGHT.”

  He skimmed through Gabriel Knight’s article in the Kansas City Journal and looked at the black-and-white photo again.

  “You’re wrong, Dr. Kilpatrick.” His breath felt heavy in his chest, making it hard to breathe as he looked at the image of the striking blonde with a dozen microphones and bright lights framing her pale features. “I didn’t do the things you said.”

  He read through the article a third time, and then a fourth. The pungency of the paper’s black ink burned his sinuses and stained his hands. The report was extremely well-written. It seemed so plausible, so real. But it was filled with lies. Kate Kilpatrick and the task force were spreading lies.

  Leave it to a woman to ruin his good name again.

  He spread the offending article over his desk and smeared away the newsprint beneath his hand. Over and over. And over again until the pressure and friction ripped a hole in the middle of Kate Kilpatrick’s earnest expression.

  It’s not her, a gentle voice inside his head tried to reason. She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know the truth. She can’t hurt you.

  Any woman could hurt him if he let her.

  No.

  “You’re damn right, no.” He fisted the torn paper in his hand and tossed it into the trash.

  And then he saw the black ink on his hands—as vulgar and damning as the red blood he’d washed off his gloves before carefully disposing of them. She hated it when he was dirty like this. He hated it.

  His chair spun like a tornado behind him as he shot out of it and dashed into the connecting bathroom. He washed his hands and scrubbed beneath his nails three times before he felt the stain of his deeds leave him.

  For now.

  A knock on the door to the outer room kept him from turning on the water for a fourth time. He dried his hands, then used the towel to open the bathroom door
and hurried out to greet his visitor.

  “Where have you been? You’re late.” He verbally pounced on his guest, even before she could shake the water off the umbrella drenched by the thunderstorm raging outside. He watched in horror as dozens of water droplets spotted the carpet.

  “It’s just water,” she said. “Relax.”

  But he couldn’t help the compulsion. He dropped down to his knees and pressed the towel into the rug, soaking up each remnant of rain before the marks became permanent.

  He was surprised when she didn’t make a joke or grouse about him taking the towel to her wet shoes as well, before she could track any mess farther into the room. Don’t be a fool, the voice inside his head warned. She isn’t your friend. You can’t trust her. You can’t trust any woman.

  But the woman knelt beside him, stroked his hair. She laid her hand over his to still his frantic movements. “It’s all right,” she whispered against his ear. Her loyalty to him was absolute. It had to be. “I know your secrets. I will always keep them for you.”

  “You’d better,” he warned her.

  She took the towel from his hands and urged him to his feet. “Go back to work. I’ll finish cleaning up.”

  Chapter Five

  “They aren’t making any progress, are they, boss?” Flint Larson knocked on the open door behind Boone, announcing his presence before entering Boone’s office at the Alton County sheriff’s station.

  “Not enough to suit me.” Boone scrubbed his fingers over the square lines of his smoothly shaved jaw. The midday news broadcast out of Kansas City featured an update on the Rose Red Rapist assaults and murder. Vanessa Owen, the reporter who’d been hassling Dr. Kate outside her KCPD office, filled up most of the screen as she talked about “unsubstantiated leads” and the police being “closemouthed” about the potential witnesses and suspects they were interviewing.