Shadow of Doubt

by Linda Poitevin

  "Fine," she muttered. “Apology accepted.”

  Jonas let his hand drop to his side again. His gaze slid over Kate's slender, ramrod-stiff back. If he didn’t know better, he might think he hadn't been the only one affected by this morning's unplanned wrestling session. How intriguing. He coughed to cover his sudden startlement. No. No, not intriguing. Alarming. He had no room in his life for complications right now. Any more complications, that was.

  Especially ones that came with amber cat's eyes and soft—

  "Are you all right?" Kate frowned at him. "You look like you're in pain."

  "I'm good," he said. Lied. He took a step backward, into the hallway. "If you're sure you don't need help, I'll go change."

  "I'm sure." She waved him off. "Go. Dinner's in twenty. And I did my best on the jeans, by the way, but I may have erred on the large side, so there’s a belt in the bag if you need it."

  Chapter 16

  Two days later, Kate pushed back a stray curl that had escaped its French braid and shot an impatient look at the wall clock above the door. It still wasn't four o'clock? Was the blasted thing even working? She sighed.

  Across the desks that butted against one another, a tall, lanky man looked up, an amused twinkle dancing in his brown eyes. Corporal Dave Jennings had been her handler when she'd worked undercover on a smuggling operation three years ago, and he'd been more than happy to welcome her as his investigative partner for the duration of her recovery. The arrangement suited Kate equally well. She could think of a dozen members in this section alone who would have driven her nuts if she'd had to share an office with them for the past few weeks. Being sidelined by that bullet still wasn't her idea of fun, but at least Dave's sense of humor made it bearable.

  "Hot date tonight, Dex?" Dave leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "I thought you had a little more sparkle than usual the last couple of days."

  Heat crept into Kate's cheeks. "I don't sparkle."

  Dave snorted. "Sure you don't. Just like you haven't started clock-watching the second you park your butt in that chair every morning."

  Her gaze slid away. She couldn't argue with that, because she'd noticed the tendency herself. And she still hadn't made up her mind whether said clock-watching—or the accompanying breathlessness—was due to anticipation or dread of quitting time and the return home. To her apartment. To Jonas.

  She aimed a dark look at Dave.

  "For your information, smartass, the only date I have is with a set of weights." Not a bad idea, now that she mentioned it. She hadn’t been to the gym in more than a week, and she was supposed to be doing those exercises the physio assigned for her shoulder at least every third day. Plus, maybe a good workout would wear off some of her frustration.

  Fresh heat flared in her face.

  Stress, she corrected herself. It would help alleviate some of her stress. Across the desks, Dave smirked.

  "Sure," he said. "The thought of working up a sweat makes me sparkle, too."

  Kate's lips compressed.

  "All right, all right.” Her partner raised his hands in self-defense, but the smirk remained. “You're not sparkling. And you're as sweet as ever. Now, why don't you take that sunny disposition of yours home early today? I'll get twice the work done without you fidgeting across from me."

  Kate made her shoulder muscles unclench through sheer willpower. She achieved an apologetic smile much the same way.

  "Maybe you're right." She shot a rueful look at the paperwork on her desk. It didn't seem to have diminished much in the last couple of days, and it probably wouldn't diminish much more before Jonas was out of her life.

  Five days he'd been with her now, four of them spent confined to the apartment, where his edginess had increased along with his strength.. If she had to listen to him pace the living room floor one more night, she'd—

  She broke off the thought and sighed. She'd what? Go out there and give in to the fantasies that kept her awake as she listened to his steps? Find out what he wore to sleep in the sofa bed he'd insisted on taking? Anything? Nothing?

  Heavy warmth unfurled in her belly. Man, oh man, she hoped he was leaving soon. Like tomorrow.

  Next week, a little voice inside contradicted.

  Today.

  Next month.

  Maybe he'd already be gone when she got home.

  No.

  The phone on her desk rang, startling her into knocking over her coffee mug. She sprang to her feet, frantically trying to rescue files and confine the spreading liquid. Dave reached across and snagged the receiver from its cradle.

  "Customs and Excise, Constable Dexter's desk." He paused for a second, then asked, "Can I tell her who's calling?"

  A slow grin spread across his face. "Hang on a second." He put his hand over the receiver and, with an exaggerated clearing of his throat, held it out to her. "I may be wrong, but I think your weights are calling."

  Kate snatched the phone from him. "Dexter," she snapped into the receiver.

  "Bad day?" Jonas’s rich, deep voice reached through the line to squeeze the breath from her.

  She sank into her chair and sighed. "More of a bad mood," she admitted. "What's up? Do you need something?"

  Dave propped an elbow on the desk and rested his chin in one hand, watching her with avid interest. She turned her back on him.

  "You been out much today?" Jonas's words and tone were casual. Too casual. Apprehension crawled down Kate's spine.

  "No. I've been in the office all day. Why?"

  "It's probably nothing, but there's been a gray sedan parked in the parking lot across the street all day. It's the only vehicle that hasn't moved."

  "Can you see a plate number?"

  "Not from this angle."

  "I'll check it out when I get home."

  "Good. And Kate—watch yourself, okay?"

  Kate's heart did a sideways skitter. Easy, girl, she told herself wryly. Concern didn't equal interest, and even if it did, she didn't want interest. Not from someone with as much baggage as Jonas carried. Not if she was smart.

  "I'll be careful," she said.

  ***

  Jonas replaced the receiver hard enough to make the phone jangle its protest. He jammed his fingers between the slats of the horizontal blinds and pried open a space wide enough to see the street three stories below. The gray sedan in the parking lot in front of the donut shop still hadn't moved.

  It had been there yesterday, too.

  And he felt like a goddamned sitting duck.

  He let the blinds fall back into place and turned to stare at the living room. His gaze traveled the taupe leather sofa bed that dominated the room, its matching armchair angled nearby. A square, black-lacquered coffee table sat in the middle, devoid of the book of contemporary photography and vase of willow-twigs that Kate had moved to allow easier access to the sofa bed. In the far corner, beside a gas fireplace, hung the television he'd watched way too much of in the last few days.

  A single piece of artwork dominated the wall over the fireplace—a rendering of a farm, with weathered-silver barns and sheds tucked in behind a white farmhouse. Two little girls played on a swing under a spreading maple in front of the house, and a litter of puppies gamboled around their feet. It should have been out of keeping with its cool, sophisticated surroundings. But it looked very right.

  Very Kate.

  Jonas scraped a hand through his hair, ripping his thoughts away from his hostess. Again. If he didn't get out of here soon...nope. Not finishing that thought. No way.

  He flexed his thigh experimentally, pleased when the resulting twinge didn't even make him wince. The same trial for his gut wasn't as satisfactory, however, and wrested an involuntary grunt from him. One down, one to go. Damn.

  He parted the blinds one last time. The car was still there. Still empty. He blew out a long breath and rolled his shoulders to ease their tension. It was probably nothing. Just his paranoia. Served him right for sitting around this apar
tment watching Columbo reruns.

  About to turn from the window, he paused as a maroon minivan turned into the parking lot and claimed the space beside the sedan. The two front doors opened and a man and woman got out. They were too far away to make out facial features, but Jonas’s insides turned cold nonetheless. What if it was—

  The woman removed a denim cap and tossed it into the van, shaking back bright red hair. Jonas released the breath he’d been holding. Carmen Ramirez's hair was black. His shoulders slumped. He needed to get out of here and deal with this so he could stop jumping at shadows.

  It wouldn't be easy, and he still didn't have much in the way of a plan, but he wasn't worried. If he could make it to Jersey and his stash, he could disappear into the streets indefinitely while he rounded up the evidence he needed. It'd be like old times, only with higher stakes. Because survival would be a little trickier with the very people he'd worked beside gunning for him—and the law on their side instead of his.

  If he could make it to Jersey.

  He stalked toward the kitchen, gritting his teeth against the nagging discomfort in his side. One more night's rest. That should be enough. It had to be enough.

  He'd leave tomorrow.

  Chapter 17

  Kate pushed open the apartment door to find Jonas waiting on the other side. Her heart skipped a beat. After a small hesitation, she tugged the key from the lock and crossed the threshold, studying him. He stood taller. Stronger. An air of tense watchfulness about him that reminded her of a caged jungle cat contemplating freedom on the other side of its bars. Her heart skipped another beat, but for a whole different reason.

  She dropped her keys on the entry table.

  He was ready to leave.

  "You're home early," he said.

  "I had some leave time coming to me. I thought I'd check out that vehicle you mentioned. The plate came back as registered to an Ottawa resident."

  “Sorry.” His mouth tightened.. "Paranoia on my part."

  "Understandable, given the circumstances. You look like you're feeling better."

  "Much. I'll be leaving tomorrow." Blue eyes watched her, as if waiting for a reaction.

  A sudden hollowness took up residence in her chest. Kate turned away to take off her coat. She hung it in the closet and pulled out her gun box. Jonas cleared his throat.

  "Nothing out of the ordinary on the way home?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing."

  She set her weapon into the box, locked it, and replaced it in the back corner of the closet. Was it just her, or was conversation between them even more stilted than usual? She swallowed a snort at the thought. Usual. Jonas had been with her less than a week, two of which he'd been unconscious. He pretended to sleep until after she left the apartment in the mornings; they exchanged surface pleasantries over dinner when she returned home; and she'd taken to hiding in her room as soon as the meal was over, claiming file work as a flimsy excuse that went undisputed. The word usual didn't apply to anything in this situation.

  "You'll be glad to get me out of your hair," Jonas observed. Despite its neutrality, the deep rumble of his voice set off an answering vibration in Kate's belly.

  She took a steadying breath and faced him again. He'd crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, muscled forearms flexed. A thrum of coiled power rolled off him. Oh, he was definitely feeling better, all right. Kate's gaze slid away as a warm flush started at the soles of her feet and worked its way up her body.

  "It hasn't been that bad," she said, sidling past on her way to the kitchen. She battled the urge to stop at his side and meet the intensity in those glittering blue eyes she tried so hard to avoid. Needed to avoid, if she wanted not to throw herself at him. The idea of a casual fling might have crossed her mind in the last few days—perhaps even more than once—but one with the kinds of complications Jonas Burke came with?

  That, she could do without.

  One more night, Kate. You can do this.

  "You could have fooled me, the way you disappear into your room at precisely six-thirty every night." Jonas had followed her, taking up a post in the kitchen doorway. His heat tugged at her as she opened the fridge door to take out a pitcher of filtered water.

  "I told you, I have—"

  He interrupted her with a snort. "No one takes that much paperwork home with them every night, Kate. Not unless they're avoiding something else."

  She took a glass down from the cupboard opposite the fridge, still entirely too close to the man in the doorway for peace of mind. Or peace of body.

  "It's okay to admit you want me gone," Jonas continued, a growl threading his voice. "We’re both adults here, and I’m well aware you didn't ask for any of this."

  "That's not—" She stopped herself, but too late. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jonas frown.

  "Not the reason?" he finished. "Then what the hell is the reason? Why can't you bring yourself to exchange more than half a dozen words with me over dinner, or tolerate my company for more than a few minutes at a time?"

  She rounded on him, her temper flaring. "Don't you dare put all this on me. You're just as bad, sitting there glowering over your plate every night, pretending you're asleep when I leave in the morning. You've made it just as obvious that you don't care for my company, Agent Burke."

  "Touché," he said, folding his arms again. "Except that's not my reason, either."

  The scent of magnolia shampoo reached out to Kate, carried by the heat of his body. She'd never dreamed it could smell so...male. Her world tipped a little to the side, and her grip on the pitcher tightened. Shit.

  "We should probably talk about this, don't you think?" Jonas said.

  She gave up on the idea of water and shoved the pitcher back into the fridge. She forced her gaze to meet his. To remain steady. But she kept the fridge door open as a shield between them, just in case.

  "There's nothing to talk about," she said. "You're leaving in the morning, and I'm going back to my life. End of story."

  For a moment, she thought he might argue with her. Hell, a part of her wanted him to. Wanted him to push the fridge door closed, take a step closer, reach for her...

  But then a shadow darkened his eyes and his lips drew tight and the moment passed.

  "You're right," he said. "I wasn't thinking."

  Kate swallowed a wholly unreasonable pang of disappointment, struggling to regain mental balance. Then she closed the fridge door and scooped back the hair from her forehead, sighing. "Forget it. Look, it's too early for dinner, so I'm going to head downstairs to the gym for a while. You probably shouldn't do much just yet, but there's a sauna there if you'd like a change of scenery."

  "I would like that," Jonas agreed, and just like that, things between them went back to normal.

  Which ranked right up there with usual.

  ***

  Jonas endured four suffocating intervals of ten minutes each in the cedar sweat box before he emerged into the main gym’s cool air for the final time. Saunas had never been his idea of a good time, but when Kate had suggested it, he'd figured it beat the hell out of sitting by himself in the apartment letting his mind go over that little incident between them again and again.

  Not that his attempt at avoidance had worked. He grimaced into the towel as he wiped his dripping face. Whoever said you couldn't run away from your problems must have encountered blond curls and amber eyes at some time in his life.

  He swiped the towel over the back of his neck. What he really needed—if it wasn't for the minor detail of two bullet holes—was a good workout. Something to get his blood moving again. Something other than—

  Hell. There he went again. It was going to be a long last night at this rate.

  To distract himself, he studied the weight room, separated by a wall of windows from the pool area they'd entered through. It was a well-equipped setup, with free weights and mats lined up along one wall, and just about every weight machine possible spread out across the rest of the floor space
. A half-dozen people hoisted and grunted their way through various routines, nodding acknowledgment at one another as they swapped equipment. In the pool, four others stroked steadily through the water.

  Jonas turned his attention to locating Kate. If she was going to be much longer, maybe he could head back to the apartment ahead of her and get dinner started. Anything to stay—

  The thought evaporated as he spotted the familiar blond curls. Kate sat on one of the leg machines, resting between sets. Her eyes were closed and her head was tipped back, and a fine sheen glistened over the skin of her neck and chest. Jonas's throat tightened as his gaze lingered on the steady rise and fall of the latter. Kate took a deep breath and tensed. Her thighs strained together, pulling against the machine's weight. Long, lean muscles stood out beneath soft, supple skin. Her legs moved apart, then together. Apart. Together.

  Jonas swallowed on a dry mouth, unable to tear his gaze away. Or to banish the sudden, vivid image of those thighs tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, parting to wrap around—

  Someone brushed against him, mumbling an apology, and he jolted back to reality, realizing he blocked more than one person where he stood. He also realized the potential for extreme embarrassment if anyone happened to notice his current physical state. Bloody hell.

  He lowered the towel he'd used for mopping his face to a more strategic location, then turned and headed for the change room. Shower time.

  The colder the better.

  Chapter 18

  Kate spotted the well-dressed couple as she wiped down the hip adduction machine with her towel. They stood in the pool area, just inside the door, scanning the water, their heads tipped toward one another in discussion. They carried no equipment bags with them, and their demeanor was unmistakably that of cops. Her heart dropped to the floor. Instinctively and without a shadow of doubt, she knew who they were. Knew they'd found Jonas.

  And she had about two minutes to make sure they lost him again.