In the Blink of an Eye

by Julie Miller

  She handed him a small square package wrapped in paper. He sniffed at the open end and discovered half of a chocolate bar. “We’ll be thirsty if we eat this sugar.” He took a bite, anyway, as his stomach and taste buds overruled his reason.

  “I have a bottle of water in my bag, too.”

  Mac smiled. No wonder her bag was so heavy. She wasn’t just prepared for emergencies, she was prepared for everything. “Anything that’s not in there?”

  “A miracle.”

  A rustle of denim told him she had settled onto the floor. The momentary buoyancy of his mood sank along with her. He didn’t want her to be discouraged, but he didn’t want to lie to her, either.

  “Where are you?” he had to ask.

  “About four steps straight in front on you.”

  Mac took two steps, then sat on the floor facing her. “I don’t necessarily believe in miracles, Jules. I believe in hard facts. Things I can prove or disprove.”

  “I know.” She handed him the water bottle. “I just wish I knew what we needed to do, so we could go home. So I could feel safe again.”

  Safe? Hell. He’d taken that from her, too. Mac kept his damning curses to himself. He really knew how to show a lady a good time. This was the first she’d mentioned how she felt, and it was more like dropping a hint. He doubted she’d ever complain outright. He didn’t intend to give her any reason to.

  “I’ve got a scenario in mind as to what’s going on. I just need to figure out who’s behind it.” Mac took a drink and passed the water back to her. “Someone blackmailed Jeff into compromising or destroying evidence in order to throw cases. Someone blackmailed Osterman into trying to kill me—probably to keep my curiosity in check.”

  “Or someone thought you were on to them.”

  “Exactly.” He polished off the last of the candy bar, wadded the foil wrapper and stuffed it into his pocket. “If people are being blackmailed, then someone is doing the blackmailing. They’re trying to make it look like it’s me. I’m going to prove who’s behind this. I’m going to find out who’s benefiting from this whole mess.”

  Julia’s energy seemed to rise as she caught on to his line of thinking. “Melanie Ringlein sure seems to be in the money. Or do you think it’s Arnie Sanchez? Maybe the earlier thefts were just a cover so he’d look less suspicious when his case gets dismissed.”

  “If it gets dismissed. Dwight Powers doesn’t take him to trial until Monday.”

  “That’s only seventy-two hours away, Mac. Can you figure it all out by then?”

  “I’ll have to.” He took another swallow of water and listened to her pack it away in her bag. And rearrange the contents. Busy again. He reached out and found her arm. He trailed his fingers down to her hand and stopped their nervous quest. “But not tonight. You’ve been through enough already today.”

  “No. If there’s something—”

  Her yawn betrayed her and he smiled. “Tonight we need to rest.” He released her and stood up, bracing himself for her protest, having his own argument ready. “You say there’s just the one cot in here?”

  She stood up and brushed something off her clothes. “That and some file cabinets and a three-legged desk.”

  “Then we’ll have to sleep together on the cot.”

  Here it came. Fast and furious in that husky, helpful voice of hers. “You take the cot. I can lean against the wall or curl up on the floor in my jacket.”

  “There’s no heat in this building, no blankets, and it’s going to get down to freezing tonight.” Mac splayed his fingers at his waist and tamped down his temper. She couldn’t argue with solid, unemotional logic. “You’re the health expert. Shouldn’t we combine our body temperatures so we don’t risk hypothermia?”

  “Yes. But—”

  “I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He held them up in mock surrender, showing proof that she needn’t fear another encounter like they had that morning. “We’ll just cuddle enough to be practical.”

  “Okay.”

  Her ready acceptance of his hands-off offer stung his ego. But then, his ego wasn’t the most important thing at stake here.

  She’d sacrificed enough already, just by being here with him. She’d witnessed a man’s death and saved the life of another. She’d fled a crime scene with a suspected felon. She’d put up with his moods and demands.

  She didn’t have to risk her health on top of all that.

  With his hands in front of him, Mac walked in the general direction of the cot. He bumped it with his knee, braced his hand on the wall behind the cot, then turned and sat. The canvas stretched and creaked beneath his weight, but held fast. He moved slowly, afraid that she’d doubt his word if he made any sudden movements. He took off his leather jacket and then lay down. He made himself as comfortable as a length of canvas three inches shorter than his body allowed.

  He held his breath as he held out his hand to her. “C’mon. Your turn.”

  With equally careful, controlled movements, she lay down beside him. The cot was so narrow, they had to lie on their sides, spoon-fashion. Mac bit down on his lip in an effort to ignore his body’s feverish reaction to the soft curve of her bottom nestled against his groin. Instead, he focused on more tender feelings, and covered them both with his jacket, tucking the collar up beneath her chin.

  Then he leaned back against the wall. He had his left arm folded up beneath his head to use as his pillow. But his right hand…

  He tried laying his arm straight down his side. But that put a hitch in his shoulder. He let it slide down behind him, but the old concrete wall was cold. He let it hover in the air, wondering if he could rest it on her shoulder. But no, his elbow would cramp at that angle. Her hip? Too intimate.

  “Ah, the hell with this.”

  Mac curled his arm around Julia’s waist. She stiffened immediately inside the hug, even though his hand rested on the edge of the cot, and didn’t touch one of her inviting curves.

  “For warmth.” He growled the excuse into her ear when she started to speak. She caught her breath and chose silence instead of protest.

  Maybe he had spoken a tad harshly, but, dammit all, he was tired. She was tired. And he’d kept his promise and hadn’t touched her with his hand.

  Despite the fact that he could pull her closer and they could conserve more body heat if he touched her. Despite the fact his hand itched to learn more about her feminine shape. Despite the fact he’d found strength and comfort in even the simplest of embraces with this woman.

  He’d kept his word.

  Still, it seemed like an eternity passed before she relaxed, and the even sound of her breathing filled his ears.

  He followed her into sleep soon after.

  Chapter Nine

  The first thing Julia noticed as the sunlight filtered through the single greasy, dust-caked window of the office was how cold her nose was.

  In the drowsy stage of half sleeping, half waking, she automatically wrapped her fingers around the tip of her nose and tried to warm it.

  The second thing she noticed was the heat burning beneath the gentle pressure on her breast.

  She snapped her eyes open as sleep abandoned her and consciousness rushed in. Cautiously, moving nothing but her eyes, she looked down to see Mac’s hand cupping her breast inside the gaping front of her jacket. Through her T-shirt, he caught the taut, distended nipple between two long, strong fingers.

  Forcing herself to breathe normally, in through her nose, out through her mouth, she tried to scoot away from the sinful temptation of his possessive hand.

  She realized her mistake when her hip pushed against the bulge at the front of his jeans. Julia’s heart skipped a beat and her skin flushed with embarrassment. Even asleep, he made her body come alive. He made her want things she was never destined to have. Things it hurt too much to want.

  She wanted to slip away before he awoke, before he felt compelled to apologize for his body’s instinctive response to a warm body. He’d promised no ha
nds last night. She didn’t want him to feel guilty for going back on his word. He was asleep, after all. A man couldn’t consciously control his actions when he was asleep.

  She was tired of men apologizing. Tired of men using her, seeing her as some kind of challenge to be overcome, some kind of bet to be won. Not seeing her as a woman. Or worse, not seeing her at all.

  Too big. Too plain. Too shy. Too frank. Too old. Too inexperienced.

  In her hurry to escape the paralyzing rush of self-doubts, she rolled forward. Her breast pressed into the waiting warmth of his hand, and she nearly moaned aloud at the sweet torture of his unknowing touch.

  If only he could really…

  The hand at her breast squeezed. “Shh. It’s okay.”

  Julia’s rampaging heartbeat slammed in her chest. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Believe me, this is the way to wake up.” She froze as his soothing words mocked her. He whispered against her ear in his raspy, sleepy, impossibly sexy voice. “He would have lost, you know.”

  He? Lost what? Julia scrambled out of his grasp and jumped to her feet. The room spun around her with the speed at which she stood, but she braced her hand over her eyes and staggered to the wall behind the desk.

  “What are you talking about?” She adjusted her bra, her shirt, her jacket, but found no relief from the blazing awareness of Mac’s touch still sending aftershocks throughout her body.

  “Ray Wozniak. Thinking he could win that dogfight with you.”

  With a deliberate ease, Mac swung his feet to the floor and sat up on the edge of the cot. His legs veed out in that most basic of masculine stances, and her body throbbed with the female need to answer the call of his. His gray eyes, as implacable as granite, stared in her general direction.

  But she felt the impact of his husky whisper clear across the room. “You’re too pretty a woman for that.”

  Julia huddled in the corner beside a dented filing cabinet while Mac excused himself to use the toilet down the hall. For a moment, she paused to wonder at the likelihood of the water still being turned on in parts of the building. True, the water in the sink ran in cold, colder, or coldest, and she would never drink the rusty brown stuff. But there it was. Real. Something they desperately needed.

  Then she wondered at the likelihood of Mac paying her a compliment. He’d been simple. Direct. Lacking the grandiose charm with which Anthony Cardello had finally earned and shattered her trust. It was a compliment she desperately wanted to believe.

  Mac had never lied to her. He was as honest with his moods and needs as he was with the facts of the case he pursued. Real.

  You’re too pretty.

  That Pandora’s box that guarded her heart tried to spring open and seize the wonderment of Mac’s matter-of-fact words.

  Could he really see her like that? See her? Want her?

  By the time Mac returned, she had that little bud of wishful hope firmly under control with a simple explanation.

  Pretty to a blind man might not be pretty at all.

  MAC SWALLOWED THE last two bites of his bacon and licked his fingers. His arteries were screaming in protest at the fatty combination of fried eggs and bacon with buttered toast on the side, but his stomach was happy. It was the first real meal in nearly twenty-four hours for him and Julia. They’d need their strength. And who knew when they’d get a chance to eat again.

  Josh sat at the breakfast counter beside him sipping his coffee. Julia sat on Mac’s left, eating an English muffin.

  The diner at Kansas City’s downtown bus terminal might not serve five-star cuisine, but it did offer a diverse number of people of various ages, gender, and ethnic and economic backgrounds. With the morning rush of changing buses and temporary layovers, a blind man, a curvy nurse and a hulking blond heartbreaker could easily lose themselves in the crowd.

  “Everything you asked for is in the green Ford pickup parked out south on the street. Should I tell you I packed them in a University of Kansas duffel bag?”

  Mac managed a smile. “Traitor.”

  They’d had a lot of fun over the years, having attended rival colleges in Missouri and Kansas. Josh used the Mizzou T-shirt Mac had given him to wash his car. Josh’s gift of a jar with a Kansas Jayhawk emblazoned on it sat on the desk in Mac’s office with an insect specimen inside.

  That Josh would think of the old joke now reminded him of how close a family the Taylors were. They’d grown up poor, in a tough neighborhood. But they’d flourished. They were stronger for it.

  Mac drew on some of that familial strength.

  “I probably shouldn’t have gotten you involved with this. I.A. could come down on you, too.”

  “Are you kidding?” Josh’s easy strength and abundant energy were almost contagious. “I always thought you were an old stick-in-the-mud. This is probably the coolest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “Running from the scene of a crime is not cool. It’s illegal.”

  “And necessary, from the sound of things.” His coffee mug hit the counter with a decisive thunk. “Ma wrapped up some sandwiches for the two of you, and Mrs. Dalton packed some things for Jules. Here.” The rattle of crisp paper unfolding caught Mac’s attention. “It’s the address of a lab you can use. It’s all the way over in the Thirteenth Precinct, but Mitch said the guy in charge was a man you could trust. I don’t know what you want it for, but we figured between Ginny and me, we could get you in.”

  Mac handed the paper on to Julia. His mother. Barbara Dalton. His brothers. Brett’s wife, Ginny. Merle Banning. Julia. If it were just him, he wouldn’t quit until he’d uncovered the truth. But he had others to consider now. “Too many people are putting their neck on the line for me. Maybe I should turn myself in and let the investigation run its course.”

  “Mac—”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  With objections coming from both sides, Mac pushed his plate back and leaned his elbows on the counter. He surrendered to the chain of events already set into motion. “I want to check the bullets in Wade Osterman’s gun against the slug in Merle Banning’s chest before that evidence disappears, too. Osterman was somebody’s hired gun. I’d like to cross-reference his ballistics and see if he’s responsible for any other unsolved shootings. Maybe I can establish a pattern of some kind. Link those incidents to cases that have been thrown out of court.”

  “How is Merle?” Julia’s soft voice asked the question behind his back, and Mac felt like a heel for not asking about the kid himself.

  “He came through surgery fine last night,” answered Josh. “But they’re going to have to rebuild his knee. Ginny and Brett are at the hospital with him this morning. She’ll deliver the slug.”

  “Does he have any family?” Again, Julia was asking the questions he should be asking.

  “All I know is his mom’s there with him.”

  “He’s a good kid. I’m glad he’s going to make it.” Mac wished he could convey the message in person. But he understood that time was a critical factor, and that his expertise lay in uncovering facts, not offering comfort. He sat up straight, taking charge the way he would have six weeks ago. “Banning was working on a profile of Melanie Ringlein at the house. Plus, I wanted him to find out if Arnie Sanchez has a connection to either of the Ringleins. Any way you can get your hands on his laptop?”

  Josh’s cringing sigh told him no before he spoke. “I.A. cleaned out everything after you left. Even Ma and Mrs. D. I guess they drove over right after Jules called her mom.”

  Julia wrapped her fingers around Mac’s knee, transmitting the sudden alarm he felt. “They didn’t hurt them, did they?”

  He covered her hand with his, waiting for Josh’s answer.

  “Nah. From what I hear, Ma made old Niederhaus take his stogie outside and put it out.”

  Mac laughed with a bit of pride. He supposed he’d always appreciated strong women. “That sounds like Ma, all right.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about tracking do
wn that information. In the meantime…” A telltale jingle of metal on metal, and the warmth of Josh’s arm reaching in front of him told Mac his brother was handing a set of keys to Julia. “Compliments of Cole. He swears the plates on that truck are legit, and are registered to a Fred and LaVerne Anderson.”

  Plastic ID cards came next. “Hi, Fred. Hi, Verne. But you know you’ll always be Jules to me, Verne.”

  Julia snickered. “Jules Verne? Your jokes haven’t improved any over the years.”

  “Maybe not. But I have.”

  That annoying surge of jealousy attacked Mac again as Julia laughed outright at Josh’s goofy flirtation. Her attempt to stifle her laughter only pointed out the fact that Josh had succeeded where he had failed.

  Did Josh lust after Jules the way he did? Was he drawn to her vulnerability? Did he want to solve the complex mysteries that made her sweet and tender and hot to the touch one moment, and cold and distant and even outright afraid the next?

  No. Mac squeezed his eyes shut and tapped into his powers of observation. Josh and Julia teased each other like brother and sister. His brother’s idle flirtations were part of the jokes they shared. Julia understood that and gave it right back. Friendly, yet superficial. He could hear the genuine liking in their voices, and nothing more.

  But with him, she was different. Was it still that damned debt? The obligation she felt existed between them?

  He rubbed at the skin beside his eyes and concentrated harder, replaying the words surrounding their kiss, the truth he’d shared when he woke up that morning.

  He narrowed his sightless gaze as his mind seized upon a theory.

  It was the intimacy that scared her. It was the notion that he did find her attractive that sent her into a state of panic.

  But why? Was he really so repulsive to look at?

  Would she really curl up in bed beside a monster?

  He felt her hand still on his knee, silently including him in her conversation with Josh.

  And then he knew the answer.