Shadow of Doubt

by Linda Poitevin

  "How—"

  "Please don't ask," she said, "because I really don't want to fight with you. Just...trust me."

  His expression went flat. Unreadable. She suspected it had been a very long time since he'd trusted anyone. Was he even capable? She waited.

  The bell over the door of the restaurant tinkled. A second later, a cold draft hit the back of Kate's legs and her bare arms. The hand she'd extended wobbled as she shivered, and a shadow crossed Jonas's eyes. His jaw like concrete, he dug out one of the coins she'd given him earlier from his pocket and placed it, warm from the heat of his body, in her palm. His fingers closed over hers.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry you've gotten messed up in this, and I'm sorry I don't know how to get you out of it."

  "Me, too," she said. "But let's remember that it's not your fault, shall we? I could have turned you in anywhere along the line, Jonas, including now. My decisions put me here, not yours."

  She tugged her fingers free of his, resisted—only just—the urge to smooth away the scowl between his brows, and headed for the pay phone at the back of the restaurant.

  Chapter 20

  Jonas followed Kate through the poster-papered doorway and up a set of uneven stairs lit by a single dim bulb at the top. He made himself focus on the rhythmic beat of music filtering through the wall to their left, rather than the equally rhythmic sway of the female rump ascending at eye level in front of him. Another time and place, maybe, but for now, if he and Kate were going to be spending time together, he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted.

  Neither of them could afford it.

  His fingers brushed against something sticky on the handrail, and he grimaced, rubbing his hand against his jeans. Kate looked over her shoulder.

  "It's a bit loud in here," she said, her voice raised over the thud of drums, "but the clientele tends toward the closed-mouth side if someone starts asking questions. It's a good place not to be noticed."

  She reached the top and pulled open a heavy metal door, and the music volume increased by a factor of about a thousand. Jonas winced and put his mouth close to her ear.

  "A little loud?" he yelled.

  She grinned at him and stepped into the bar. Jonas followed. Standing behind the still too-scantily clad Kate, he scanned the interior, taking in the mostly brick and rough wood construction, the tables crowded together, the lights focused on a corner of the room he couldn't see over the heads of the patrons. The place was packed. That was good. And there were two additional exit signs that he could see. Also good.

  Kate tugged at his sleeve. "This way," she bellowed.

  With little other choice, Jonas followed as she threaded her way between tables, stools, and people, heading toward what turned out to be a nook tucked around a corner at the back. Kate had refused to tell him what she was up to, and he found himself studying everyone in his path with a jaundiced eye. Trust me, she'd said. She had no idea what she asked.

  Kate ducked under a rope that cordoned off the nook. Jonas scowled and did likewise. Again he took stock. It was marginally quieter away from the speakers and subwoofers, and all the tables but one were empty. There were no other exits here. Kate stopped beside the occupied table. A tall, lanky man rose to his feet, gaze focused not on Kate, but on Jonas.

  His gaze was not friendly.

  Dressed from head to toe in leather studded with enough metal to weigh down an elephant, his entire air was one of menace. Jonas's hands curled at his sides. What in hell was Kate planning? To have Hells Angels accompany them across the border? He shot her a hard look.

  Oblivious, she stood on tiptoe to speak into the other man's ear. His gaze remained locked on Jonas. His expression didn't change. Kate dropped back down to her heels and motioned Jonas forward. Not without second thoughts, he stepped away from his only escape route. Out in the main bar, the music hit a discordant, jangling series of notes that signaled the end of a song, and then a woman's voice informed the audience the band would be taking a half-hour break. Canned music took over at a slightly lower decibel level.

  "Much better," Kate said. "I wasn't sure my voice would hold out past introductions."

  She paused and cleared her throat. Her gaze skittered away from Jonas's. He scowled, unease growling through his gut.

  "Kate?"

  Reluctant amber eyes met his. "I trust him, Jonas. Remember that."

  What in hell—?

  She took a deep breath. "Jonas, this is my partner, Corporal Dave Jennings. Dave, Agent Jonas Burke of the ATF."

  Her partner? But Jonas had no time to process the announcement—or the discrepancy between this man's appearance and Kate's usual office attire—before the other man's stance shifted to aggressive.

  "What the hell, Dex. There's a—"

  "There's a warrant out for him," Kate interrupted. "I know. But it's not what you think. I can explain."

  "You—" Her partner stared at her. "You're kidding me. You're harboring him? Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

  Jonas glanced toward the exit. This was such a bad idea, he didn't even know where to begin. If only Kate had said something, told him what she planned, he could have—

  Warm fingers settled onto his knotted forearm. Squeezed gently.

  "Sit," Kate urged. "Dave's okay."

  Jonas looked again at the leather- and metal-clad man towering behind her. At the menace etched into every watchful line of Dave Jennings's body. Like hell he was okay.

  "You should have told me," he muttered, for her ears only.

  "You wouldn't have come with me if I had," she whispered back. "We need help, Jonas, and I trust Dave. Please. Give him a chance."

  "Dex?" Jennings asked. "Everything all right?"

  Amber eyes met Jonas's, communicating reassurance. "Give me a chance," she said.

  "Five minutes," he growled. "And then I'm out of here, with or without you."

  The three of them sat at the table, Jonas carefully positioning himself with clear access to and an unobstructed view of the only doorway. Jennings's narrowed eyes assured him the other man had noticed. They both waited for Kate to begin. The music from the bar vibrated through the floor beneath their feet.

  She took a deep breath. "We've worked together a long time, Dave. You know I wouldn't lie to you."

  "I'm listening."

  "Jonas was framed, but we have to get him back to the States if we're going to prove it."

  Kate's partner scowled. "We?"

  In a few, rapid words, Kate filled him in on how she'd found Jonas and all that had happened since, ending with, "They tracked us to my apartment this evening. They don't want Jonas arrested. They want him dead. And they can't afford to leave any loose ends. I need—"

  "Are you out of your mind?" Jennings demanded for the second time, staring at her. "There is no way in hell I'm helping you go underground, Kate. Turn him in. Now. Like you should have done at the beginning. Let the force sort things out. If what he says is true—"

  "The force won't sort out anything, and you know it. They'll turn him over to the ATF. They’ll have no choice. And if they do, he's as good as dead."

  "But you'll be alive."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. And even if they don't come after me, I'll have Jonas's death on my conscience."

  "Then lie low. Find somewhere to hole up. Hell, you can stay with—"

  Kate cut him off. "No. You have a family, Dave."

  Dave Jennings studied his partner for a long time, his expression fierce and his lips pressed tight. Then he thrust a hand through his hair. "Freaking hell, Dexter. You're killing me here. You're absolutely certain he's clean?"

  Kate's eyes flickered over Jonas, and the trust he saw in the brief look warmed him to the center of his jaded soul. She really did believe in him, he realized with slow shock. He couldn't remember the last time anyone else had. She turned back to her partner.

  "I'm certain."

  Jennings regarded her for another moment. Then he nodded. "All right. What do yo
u need?"

  Not until the words were uttered and the tension left his shoulders did Jonas realize how wire-taut he'd been strung. He slumped back in the chair, ignoring the question niggling at the back of his brain: Just how close did a partnership have to be to foster the kind of trust Jennings had in Kate? Not that it mattered, because it was none of his business.

  No distractions.

  "Whatever you can give us," Kate was saying. "A vehicle, if you can, and some cash. I’d ask you to go back to the apartment for my keys and wallet, but if they’re watching..."

  "Will a thousand do?"

  "I don't have that much in my account, and even if I did, I can’t repay you until—"

  "We'll worry about it when you get back." Jennings took out his wallet and handed a bank card to her. "The code is the same as my extension at the office. Do you have your badge with you?"

  "I have nothing. No driver's license, no badge. Nothing."

  Shrugging out of the studded leather jacket he wore, Jennings handed it across the table to Kate. "My spare piece is in the left hand pocket." He reached down to retrieve a brown paper bag from the floor and handed that to her as well.

  "Are you sure? If anyone finds out—"

  "It would just be one more item on a growing list of transgressions where this situation is concerned," her partner pointed out. "Take the piece, Kate."

  "Thank you." Kate stood and glanced at Jonas. "I'll be back in a minute. Dave brought some jeans and a shirt for me to change into."

  Jonas watched Kate make her way out into the noisy, crowded main bar area, heading for the ladies' room. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he turned to Jennings.

  "You can't let her come with me," he said.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I said, you can't—"

  Jennings waved him silent. "I heard you. That wasn't a request for you to repeat yourself, it was my expression of incredulity. You heard her. She'd never risk someone else's safety for her own."

  Frustration drove Jonas out of his chair to pace the floor between tables. The bullet holes in his side and thigh tugged uncomfortably, irritated by his climb out the gym window, reminding him he wasn't quite there yet. Wasn't in top form. Maybe wasn't capable of looking after Kate if things went sideways.

  "And I'm not willing to risk her safety," he growled. "There must be some way to convince her to lie low, damn it. We both know she's not up to handling a situation like this."

  "Because of her shoulder, you mean?"

  Her shoulder? Right. The one she rubbed at all the time. He'd never gotten around to asking her about it. He shook his head. "The shoulder only compounds matters."

  "Then what?"

  Jonas snorted. He had to spell it out? "She's behind a desk all day. When was the last time she was even out in the field? Has she ever been out?"

  Jennings shook his head. "I'm confused. What exactly did Kate tell you she does?"

  "She didn't have to tell me. I've seen how she dresses for work, and I know what the streets look like on a cop. She doesn't have it."

  Surprise glinted in Jennings's eyes. "Wait. You've decided she's a pencil pusher?" He snorted. "I'm guessing you haven't told her that."

  "You’re telling me she's not?"

  Jennings laced fingers behind his head and tipped back in his chair. He regarded Jonas for a long moment without responding. Then a corner of his mouth quirked upward. "I'm telling you that I might not like her decision to help you out, but I trust her to look after herself. She's a good cop, Agent Burke. Excellent, even. If I were you, I'd worry less about her and more about how to deal with your little problem when she gets you where you're going. I'd also ask her about the shoulder some time."

  Before Jonas could absorb the other man's words—or the new information they carried—Kate came through the opening from the bar again, brown paper bag in one hand and Jennings' leather jacket in the other. She'd changed into jeans and a moss-green sweatshirt, under which Jonas’s trained gaze could make out the faint bulge of the weapon Jennings had given her.

  A determined amber gaze locked with his, and he knew he'd lost the battle.

  Like it or not, Kate was coming with him.

  .

  Chapter 21

  Kate reached the table where Dave still sat and held out the bag that now contained her gym clothes. "Thank you."

  "You're sure this is the only way?" he asked.

  "I'm sure."

  Dave climbed to his feet and took the paper bag from her. "Then forget the thanks," he said gruffly, looping an arm around her shoulders, "and just promise me you'll come back in one piece."

  "I promise." She returned her partner's hug, met Jonas's grim expression over his shoulder, and stepped back. "We should get going. I want to make the bridge as soon as possible, before your friends decide to file paperwork on me as well."

  For a second, she thought Jonas might object yet again to her continued presence, but instead he glanced at Dave, paused, and then gave a single, cryptic nod.

  "Ready when you are."

  "Johnstown?" Dave asked.

  Kate nodded. "The border guards there don’t ask me for ID anymore." Liaising with them was a major part of her job working with Dave, and she’d come to know most of them as friends. Most of them. "I’ll tell them I left my wallet in Ottawa.”

  “You really think they’ll let you through?” Dave looked skeptical.

  “I think it’s our best chance. Our only other option is to try a river crossing somewhere, and that will take too long."

  "What about after you cross?"

  She looked askance at Jonas.

  "New Jersey. Newark." Jonas replied. "I have resources there."

  Dave nodded. He held out a set of keys to Kate. "All right. There's another grand in my savings account if you run short. Take what you need. The SUV is parked on Dalhousie. Insurance and registration are in the glove box.”

  Kate took the keys from him. “What will you tell Julie?”

  “That I loaned it to a friend whose vehicle broke down. She buses to work, so I can use hers. What do you want me to tell the office?"

  "Play dumb. You haven’t seen me or heard from me. There's no point in you going down with me."

  Her partner nodded again, and his somber gaze met hers. "Be careful out there, Dexter. No more hospital visits, understand?"

  ***

  Kate glanced at the glowing blue numbers on the dashboard clock. Ten forty-nine. The deeper dark of the countryside had settled about them after they left the city, dotted with lights from homes and farms set back from the highway. Above the shadowed trees, a full moon had begun its ascent, a bright, shining disk hanging in the sky. Jonas's presence loomed in the passenger seat beside her. He hadn't said boo to her since they'd left Dave at the bar, and the hour's drive to the U.S. bridge had begun to feel like a lifetime.

  She didn't even want to think about the days to come.

  Lips pressed tight, she adjusted the rearview mirror, noting a set of headlights about a half kilometer back. She supposed Jonas was having some issues coming to terms with their unplanned partnership. Frankly, she was having issues, too, now that they'd managed to escape the immediate threat and the accompanying adrenaline rush. How in the name of sanity had she managed to convince herself that taking up Jonas Burke's cause was a good idea? A man who claimed to have no friends and more than his share of enemies. Who even now maintained a taut, stubborn silence that seethed with his disapproval at her involvement.

  And, last but far from least, whose every shift against seat leather made her libido do a sinuous shimmy from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.

  She exhaled in a gust that drew a glance from Jonas. Not that she could see him look her way in the dark, but she could sure as hell feel it.

  Her toes curled inside her running shoes. She glanced again into the rearview mirror. The headlights were still there. Still the same distance back. She eased her pressure on the gas pedal, and Dave's SUV sl
owed fractionally. If the lights caught up and passed them, all was good. If they maintained their distance, however...

  Jonas cleared his throat, startling her into a small swerve over the center line.

  "Seeing as how I can't get rid of you and we have some time to kill," he said lazily, "I suppose you might as well tell me about yourself."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Small talk, Agent Burke? Are you sure you can handle that?"

  "It's going to be a long few days if we're not speaking."

  "True." Kate rested an arm along the base of the driver's window and flexed her one-handed grip on the steering wheel. "Fine. What would you like to know?"

  "You could start by telling me about your shoulder."

  From silent to blunt. There didn't seem to be a happy medium where conversation with this man was concerned.

  "Jennings said I should ask," he added.

  Kate frowned. Dave knew she didn't like to talk about the shooting. Why—?

  "He seemed to think I was operating under a misapprehension where your policing skills were concerned."

  Ah. A smile tugged at Kate's lips. "Maybe a little," she agreed.

  "So—the shoulder?"

  "I was shot. Drug raid."

  A cough. Then, "You. In a drug raid."

  She glanced sideways at his shadowy form. "You did catch the part about me being a cop, right?"

  "You just didn't strike me as that experienced. I stand corrected. How long did you work narcotics?"

  "I didn't."

  "Uniformed backup?"

  "Third through the door, actually. Tactical."

  The hair prickled along the nape of her neck. Those headlights in the mirror weren't any closer. Damn. She eased off the gas another fraction.

  "No wonder Jennings found me so amusing," Jonas muttered. "You should have told me."

  "You didn't ask, and it didn't seem—"

  "Worth the effort?" he interrupted.

  "Important," she said, her brows drawing together at the bitterness underlying his words. "You were going to be leaving, and I was going back to my life, remember? The...incident...it isn't something I talk about."