Dangerous Kisses

by Trish Milburn

  She’d rather never make the front page than have it caused by the loss of innocent life. She’d gladly work the education desk if crime suddenly disappeared. Lord knew she’d probably sleep better and actually have a life.

  As J.D. moved on to the rest of the newsroom, Sydney returned her attention to her computer screen. She finished proofing her story and sent it to Bill, her editor. When she looked back at her stack of mail, she noticed a small brown package minus a return address. She picked it up noting it barely weighed anything.

  She slid her finger beneath the paper to rip it open. When a single, silver-wrapped piece of chocolate tumbled out of the box onto her desk, she inhaled sharply. She’d thought of little else since Randy Helmswood had uttered his vague allusion to chocolate.

  Sydney glanced up to see if J.D. was still around. Not that it mattered. He probably had no idea where the box came from anyway. She scanned the newsroom as if she’d see the identity of the killer in someone’s face. Did someone else know about the chocolate? And if they did, who would think sending her a piece would be funny?

  "Miss Blackburn."

  Sydney jumped but then recognized that deep, frustrating but sexy voice even before she looked up to make eye contact with Radley. She prided herself on being capable and independent, but his arrival on the heels of her scare proved comforting. And that annoyed her. As did the image that floated up from her memory.

  She’d never admit it to a soul, but she’d dreamed embarrassing dreams about him each night since she’d met him. She’d wake up hot and tangled in her covers. Her cheeks warmed at the image, as if he could read her thoughts.

  But as she looked at his hard face and dark eyes, it was difficult to believe this was the same man who’d driven her wild in her dreams.

  "I’d like to talk to you," he said.

  She detected a flicker of anger in his words. Was he angry enough to try to frighten her?

  "I’m glad you stopped by, Detective. I have something to ask you, too."

  Becky walked by on the way to her desk. Radley watched her until she was out of earshot.

  "I guess you’re proud of your coverage," he said before he turned his gaze back to Sydney.

  "Is that all you came by for, to tell me how worthless a reporter like me is?" His animosity was quickly becoming tiresome, even if she thought she detected a slight softening of his hard stance.

  He turned his intense gaze on her, making her warm more despite her resolve not to let him affect her.

  "Not exactly."

  "What exactly, then?"

  "I hope you think these stories are worth the uproar they’re causing. Our phones are ringing off the hook. Every parent with a blond daughter is convinced she’s next and wants police protection."

  "I’m sorry about that, but I did what I felt was right. I hoped someone might have some information that would help locate Maggie’s and Stephanie’s killer."

  "Have you thought maybe you’re feeding this guy’s ego?"

  "Maybe. But if I can help one girl stay out of his clutches, it’s worth it."

  Radley blew out a long breath. He scanned the room, but when his eyes focused back on her desk they narrowed.

  "That part of one of your stories?"

  Sydney picked up the chocolate and held it up in her palm. "This was my question for you. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?"

  "Where did it come from?"

  "It came in my mail today with no return address. I thought maybe it came from the justice center."

  Radley caught her gaze and held it. "You think I sent this to you as a joke?"

  "Maybe just to make a point."

  "I make my points in other ways."

  A shiver ran down her back, and she dropped the chocolate as if it would burn a hole through her palm. If it wasn’t Radley, the most likely option was the killer. That possibility settled in her stomach like a cold stone and sent goose bumps galloping across her arms and shoulders.

  "Sydney, have you received any other suspicious mail or phone calls?"

  "No."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Radley, I’m sure. I’m a reasonably observant person." She sounded sharp and a bit on the witchy side, but that tended to happen when she felt threatened. Defense mechanism, plain and simple.

  "Maybe this will convince you to stop writing about this for awhile. There’s nothing new to report anyway."

  She wanted to scream but lowered her voice instead. "I can’t stop doing my job just because this guy thinks he can scare me." A serial killer wasn’t about to stroll into the newsroom anyway, and she’d buy ten deadbolts for her apartment if necessary.

  Radley exhaled slowly, giving Sydney the distinct impression he was trying his best not to yell at her in front of the entire newsroom. "What if this is from the killer, and he’s picked you to be his next victim?"

  Sydney couldn’t prevent the visible shudder that ran through her. The thought of ending up like the two previous girls, of falling victim to a predator like her mother had, threatened to make her sick. Her head went light and she blinked several times to try to clear the feeling.

  Radley surprised her by squatting down beside her chair. "I think you’re more scared than you want to admit."

  "It’s unsettling, I’ll give you that."

  "I want you be careful. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Keep your doors locked."

  "You might not believe this, but I’m careful all the time. You don’t have to be a reporter long before you learn there are a lot of crazy people running around on the streets."

  Sydney glanced into Radley’s eyes, level with hers. This close, she could discern their deep brown hue, barely lighter than the black pupils they surrounded. Her breath caught in her chest.

  Merciful heavens, he was gorgeous. Even in the face of possible danger, Radley still affected her like no one ever had, making her heart beat loudly in her ears. She wished they could discard their lives for just a minute so she could kiss him and have him pull her into his arms like he had in her dreams. Though she’d been embarrassed each time she woke from one of those dreams, they’d felt so right while she was having them. Jake had driven away her loneliness in those dreams, a loneliness she had up until that point not even acknowledged.

  But it was her choice to be alone. She’d seen how awful it was when one half of a couple in love was ripped from the other. She never wanted to feel that kind of despair. Losing her parents was enough loss for a lifetime.

  "Sydney?"

  "Huh? I’m sorry, what did you say?" She lowered her gaze to Jake’s hands, unable to face him when she’d fantasized about him.

  "I said, do you have anywhere you can stay until we find this guy?"

  "My apartment."

  "That’s not exactly safe."

  "I lock my doors, I live on the second floor, and I have a cell phone."

  "Sydney," he said as if talking to a stubborn child.

  "Listen, if the killer did send this chocolate to me and I alter my life, he wins. Whether you believe it or not, I believe I’m doing some good here."

  "What about a safe house? You could still work but you wouldn’t have the exposure at home."

  "I promise I will take every precaution, but I want to stay in my own apartment."

  Radley pushed himself to his feet. "I’ll order extra patrols by your place."

  "Good. Maybe if I stay there, we’ll hit some luck and nab the guy, though I’m not real hot on being bait." Her skin crawled at the thought of the killer skulking in the dark shadows near her building. What she wouldn’t give for a Taser to go with her pepper spray. A determined man could fight through pepper spray, but with a Taser blast he wasn’t going anywhere but flat on his face.

  "I want to take this in as possible evidence," Radley said, pointing toward the chocolate and the package it came in.

  "Go ahead. I certainly don’t want it."

  Radley pulled two paper evidence bags from inside his coat
pocket. He carefully deposited the candy and the ripped packaging into them, immediately labeling each with pertinent information.

  "Do you think the other girls got these ahead of time?" she asked.

  "I don’t know, but I’m going to check it out."

  "You’re going to check Maggie’s and Stephanie’s apartments again?"

  "Stephanie’s will have been rented out again by now."

  "But not Maggie’s. I don’t suppose I could tag along?"

  "No. But if I find anything you need to know, I’ll call."

  His idea of what she needed to know likely didn’t match hers, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  He strode halfway to the door before he turned back toward her. "Sydney?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I want you to call me if you get anything else. Letters, phone calls, candy, I don’t care what and I don’t care if you think it’s nothing."

  She nodded. "Okay." She had always been way more careful than the average woman, and now her awareness of her surroundings would be even more hypersensitive. She truly believed she could take care of herself. The hint that Radley might be human enough to care a little caused an unwanted curling of warmth in her chest. Bad idea to think of him as anything other than a detective with whom she had to work.

  Evidently satisfied with her response, he turned and left, leaving her watching the space where he’d stood.

  "I’d venture a guess that Detective Radley isn’t the only one smitten," Becky said from beside her.

  She almost denied Becky’s accusation but found she couldn’t without choking on the lie. She was indeed smitten. She dropped her forehead into her upturned hand in frustration. Why, Radley? Of all the available men with whom she came into contact, why did she have to become infatuated with such an arrogant, bossy, hard man? One with whom she had absolutely no future. Not that she was into long-term relationships. They made you too vulnerable.

  Becky chuckled and patted Sydney on the back. "It’s not that bad, is it?"

  Sydney looked up at her friend. "Please. Can you think of someone less right for me?"

  "A million different guys. I think Detective Radley has definite potential."

  "Yeah, the potential to drive me batty."

  After a couple more hours of scanning the research done on serial killers and their psyches, Sydney called it a day and headed home. Though she wouldn’t admit it to Radley, the package she’d received had scared her to her core. No one else knew about the chocolate besides her, the cops and Randy Helmswood — unless Randy had spilled his story to someone else. She shook her head. No, her instincts told her this was more than a prank.

  Maybe Radley was right and she was feeding the killer’s ego. But why would he target her? If he killed her, her stories about him would end and thus the ego stroking. Maybe he figured another reporter would step into the void. And he’d be right.

  She tried to clear her mind as she headed for the parking lot. Though the sun dipped toward the horizon, it was still light enough that the parking lot didn’t hold any fear today. Even so, she scanned the vehicles as she approached them. She doubted anyone would try to abduct her with so many witnesses around, but she’d swear she had a red bull’s-eye painted on her forehead anyway. She imagined someone reaching out from underneath one of the cars to grasp her ankle, so she stayed more than an arm’s length away from them until she reached her own.

  By the time she’d started her car and pulled out of the parking lot, she felt silly. She glanced in her rearview mirror and noticed a car pull out from the curb. As she drove away from downtown, she kept an eye on the car. Was the driver following her?

  She headed toward a nearby residential neighborhood and put to use a tidbit she’d picked up from reading hundreds of mystery novels by making four consecutive right turns. By the time she completed the square, she thought she’d lost the tail. Just as she sighed in relief, however, her tail made the last turn. Her heart jumped into her throat as she drove back toward a better-lighted commercial district. She gradually increased her speed, but she couldn’t shake him. And with every minute, she grew angrier.

  Determined not to live in fear, she turned sharply into a gas station. She parked within sight of the clerk but didn’t get out of her car. Instead, she called 911 and reported that someone was following her. As she talked to the dispatcher, the white car drove slowly by and made a left turn onto another street. Just as she was about to tell the dispatcher that she’d made a mistake, the car parked, barely within view of her.

  Ice flooded her veins as she heard the dispatcher say units were on the way. Sydney sat frozen in her car with every nerve tensed and ready to make a run for it if necessary.

  Two patrol cars went by in her rearview mirror and turned into the street opposite her. Both parked behind the white car. For endless seconds nothing happened. They must be calling in the plates. Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. The store clerk stood at the entrance watching the police activity.

  When she returned her gaze to the scene behind her, both officers were standing beside the white car. She moved closer to her mirror. The one closest to the car’s driver was...laughing. What the hell?

  Sydney got out of her car and stalked across the street. When the patrolmen saw her, they sobered and stood straight.

  "Miss Blackburn?"

  "What’s going on?"

  "Appears to be a false alarm, ma’am."

  "False alarm?" Her voice rose with the release of tension. She strode toward the driver’s window. "Who are you?" The last word still rang in the air as she recognized her tail. "Detective O’Malley."

  "Miss Blackburn." He had the decency to look sheepish.

  "I assume Detective Radley has something to do with this."

  "Yes, ma’am. He wants to make sure you’re safe."

  "Well, he could start by not giving me a heart attack. You can tell him the next time he decides to have me followed, he might consider telling me.

  Radley might be used to taking control, but she refused to relinquish all of it. He had to learn she had some common sense. Besides, it wasn’t the protection she minded, rather the way he imposed it on her without even asking for her input.

  "No, I think I’ll tell him myself," she said.

  She left O’Malley and the patrolmen sitting in the street and tried not to think of their amusement at her heated response. As soon as she slipped into her car and started the engine, she slammed it into gear and backtracked toward downtown. But when she reached the justice center, she caught sight of Radley driving away. Okay, now it was her turn to play the tail.

  She followed him as he made his way to First Avenue and then toward the east side of town. When he reached Donelson, he turned down a side street and pulled up to the curb in front of a small ranch style house. He stepped out of his car only to lean against it as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  He’d known she was there all along.

  She got out of her car, staring at him the whole time.

  "I guess you met Kevin," he said.

  "Yes. I’d suggest you get him some more training. He’s not very good at hiding himself."

  "I should have warned him about you."

  "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  Before he could answer, a woman called to Radley from the front porch of the house.

  "Don’t just stand out there in the street, Jake. Bring your friend inside."

  Sydney looked back at Radley.

  "My mother," he said.

  "Oh."

  "Come on. She’ll never let me hear the end of it until I introduce you."

  Feeling off guard at this personal side of Jake Radley, she followed him up the walkway.

  "Mom, this is Sydney Blackburn."

  "It’s nice to meet you," Sydney said as she shook the hand of the silver-haired lady.

  "Call me Lou Anne, dear. Do you work with Jake?"

  "Not exactly. I work at the Courier."

&n
bsp; "Oh, you’re the one who’s been writing about those poor girls who were killed."

  "Yes, ma’am."

  "I’ve been around for sixty years, and I still haven’t figured out why people do things like that."

  Jake joined them on the porch. "Mom, I just came by to see what time you wanted me to pick you up tonight."

  "The dinner starts at 7:30, so 7:00 is plenty early. You have time to come in for a cup of coffee, don’t you?" she asked Sydney.

  "I really should be going."

  "There’s a chill in the air. Please have a cup before you go. I don’t get an opportunity to meet many of Jake’s friends anymore."

  The way Mrs. Radley said "friends" made Sydney realize the woman thought she was a friend in the romantic sense. But before she could set the record straight, the older woman had stepped back inside and moved toward the kitchen with amazing speed.

  Sydney turned toward Jake with her mouth half opened. He smiled as if her discomfort amused him.

  "Quit that."

  "What?" He raised his eyebrows in mock innocence.

  "You know what. You didn’t correct her."

  "Neither did you."

  "I didn’t have the chance. She’s fast."

  "That’s what I always thought when she paddled me."

  The thought of Jake being spanked unsettled Sydney further. She fled into the vanilla-scented living room. But once inside, she and Jake stared at each other across the room. She broke eye contact first and let her gaze roam.

  Harvest gold shag carpet and paneled walls clashed with more modern furnishings, but the room emanated a comforting warmth despite the incongruous decor. When she spotted a school picture of a little boy who had to be Jake, Sydney stood and walked over to examine it more closely. It gave her somewhere to look besides at Jake.

  She retreated to teasing to get through the uncomfortable situation. "Hey, you can smile. Is that something they beat out of you at the academy?"

  "I smile, when I have a reason."

  She looked down at him, nearer than she’d realized. All she’d have to do to end up in his arms would be take two steps back then fall into his lap. Her breath shuddered at the thought. She fought the need to lick her lips as he held her gaze. Wow, she was losing it.