"If it makes any difference," Honeyman continued, "it wasn't my idea to kill you. I tried to tell them you were too stubborn to die out there."
Full comprehension slammed into Jonas like a sucker punch. He had been that wrong. And Kate had been right. He dived across the kitchen, shoving his handler up against the counter, one hand at Honeyman's throat, the other holding a pistol to his head. The cane clattered to the floor. Beer sloshed across Jonas's shirtfront.
"You damn son of a bitch!" he snarled. "You were in on it? You set me up?"
Gray eyes stared into his, showing surprise at last.
"Shit," breathed Honeyman. "You don't know a thing, do you?"
Jonas pressed the gun muzzle harder against his handler's temple. "Not yet, you prick," he said. "But you're going to tell me. You're going to tell me everything."
Chapter 38
Despite her warning to him, Kate gave Jonas significantly more than the twenty minutes she'd promised, figuring he would need it, secure in knowing no one else had entered the building. At the forty-five-minute mark, however, she could wait no more. Leaving the car locked behind her, she dodged through the traffic to the other side of the street and the apartment building into which Jonas had disappeared. The elevator took forever to arrive, and even longer to ascend to the seventh floor, during which time her imagination decided it needed to conjure possible reasons Jonas hadn’t come out yet.
None of the scenarios were good.
When the doors finally opened, she stepped into the corridor and came up short against a broad chest. Before she could do more than register Jonas’s identity, rough hands clamped onto her shoulders and set her aside, and without either speaking or looking at her, Jonas stepped into the elevator she'd vacated.
Kate blinked as he jabbed at one of the buttons. Then she recovered her balance and stepped back through the door he held aside for her. The elevator lurched into motion.
Kate studied her companion as they descended, but Jonas gave no sign that he noticed. She cleared her throat.
"I take it things didn't go well," she said quietly.
"Drop it, Kate."
"Jonas—"
"I said drop it." Blue eyes flicked over her like a whiplash, their color deepened to the slate blue of the ocean on the brink of an ugly storm.
Kate sucked in a quick breath. So. She'd been right about his handler. Damn. Above the doors, the number four lit up, then three, then two. She braced herself and reached a hand out to him. "I can't drop it. You know that. We're partners, Jonas, and partners—"
"Partners," he snapped, shaking her off, "are like everyone else in the world. They can't wait to screw you over as soon as it suits them."
The elevator bumped to a stop, and he shouldered his way between the doors before they'd opened half way. Hesitating, Kate watched him stalk across the lobby and out the front doors. She glanced at the control panel. If she went to Honeyman's door, would he let her in? It wasn't likely. And even if he did, it was less likely that he would tell her much.
The elevator doors began closing. With a sigh, she slipped between them and followed in Jonas's tracks. By the time she emerged onto the sidewalk, he was already at the car. The driver's door stood open, but he hadn't gotten in, instead standing with hands braced against the roof, shoulders slumped, head bowed. Kate's heart twisted inside her, and her footsteps halted. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she stared at the broad back turned to her, ignoring the pedestrian traffic that parted to flow around her.
Damn, damn, damn. For every one step forward she managed with Jonas, the universe seemed determined to send him back four. There was no way he'd agree to calling Grant now. Not when life had proved his trust wrong yet again.
A woman pushed by onto the stairs Kate blocked. Kate murmured an apology and stepped aside, but the woman was already halfway up, tossing long red hair over one shoulder. She didn’t so much as look back, let alone respond. Kate sighed.
Welcome to the big city.
She waited for a good minute for a break in traffic long enough to make a run for the other side of the street, but Jonas still stood by the car with head bowed when she arrived. She regarded him across the roof. As if he felt her eyes on him, he lifted his head and met her gaze.
"I'm sorry," he said.
You are? Kate blinked at him. His mouth took on a wry twist.
"That bad at apologizing, am I?" he asked.
She shrugged. "You're getting better at it," she replied. "With practice."
He snorted. "Funny."
She studied him. The fury was gone, taking most of the intensity with it, but the betrayal remained, underlined by an air of defeat she hadn't seen before. She didn't like it.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked.
Jonas's hands curled into fists on the vehicle roof. His expression turned stony again. "Exactly what you said would happen. It turns out Honeyman was in on the whole thing from the start. Although killing me wasn't his idea, apparently."
Kate flinched from the words. Jonas tightened his lips in a grimace she thought he intended as a smile, but she couldn't be sure.
"You were right about Douglas, too, by the way," he said. "He didn't roll on us about the cabin. That state trooper we took out spotted us when we stopped for groceries and decided we looked suspicious. He called in our descriptions, and the rest is history."
Kate waved off the explanation. It didn't matter. What mattered was—
Jonas slammed a fist onto the rental car's roof. "Two years," his voice was raw. "Two years I worked with him, Kate, and I never suspected a thing. Can you believe it? How goddamned stupid am I?"
"I'm sorry," she said inanely. Inadequately.
His fist came down a second time, and she glanced around them, afraid they might be drawing attention. No one so much as looked in their direction.
"He made sure I was in on every one of the deals they put together," he said. "Know why? So if something went wrong, they'd have someone to pin it on. Hell, they had this thing set up so sweetly, it's not even funny. Three years they've had it going. One before I came on the scene, and two with me earmarked as their patsy." He shook his head, a hint of disbelief shadowing his expression. "And I never suspected a thing. God, was I gullible!"
"You're going to blame yourself for this, too?" The words slipped out before she could censor them, and Jonas’s head jerked as if she'd slapped him. He glared at her.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You were deliberately duped, Jonas. Honeyman and the others worked very hard to make sure you didn't suspect anything. How can that be your fault?"
"And—?" he prompted, his voice as dangerous as it was soft.
"And what?"
"And what did you mean, 'blame yourself for this, too?'"
Kate looked away. Normally, she was such a reasonable person. She thought before she spoke, she was wise enough to keep certain ideas to herself—
"Well?"
She flinched. Lifted her chin. Met his gaze squarely. Like it or not, Jonas needed to hear a few truths in life. And if no one else was going to tell him, then she would.
But not without a frisson of trepidation.
"I meant that you can't keep taking the blame for everything that's gone wrong in your life," she murmured. "Whether you like it or not, you can't control the actions of everyone else in the world."
"I never thought I could," he replied.
"Didn't you? Think about it for a minute. You haven't done anything wrong here, so why are you coming down so hard on yourself? Rick Honeyman and his buddies are the bad guys, not you." Kate hesitated. Every line of Jonas's body shouted a warning at her to back off. The rigid set of his shoulders, the jawline that had turned to granite, the way he stared past her. But she couldn't stop. She had to finish. She had to try.
"You were never the bad guy," she continued. "Not when your father ended up in prison, not when your mother left, not when you were bounced around from one home
to another, and not when you couldn't keep your sister with you. Things happen, Jonas. Life happens. You can't always control it."
His head snapped around at that and he glared at her. "Who are you to stand there and judge me? You have no idea—"
"That's your best defense, isn't it?" Kate interrupted, her own temper flaring. "No one knows what you've been through, so no one can understand. It makes a hell of an excuse for alienating yourself from everyone, doesn't it?"
"I think you've said enough."
"I haven't said nearly enough," she corrected. She leaned her elbows on the car roof and threaded fingers through her hair in frustration. "Damn it, Jonas, how long can you live like this?"
"As long as I bloody well want to!" he shouted. "It's my life, Kate. Butt out!"
Silence, thick and heavy, followed his outburst. Kate felt the eyes of the curious on her back as they passed by. Stared into the eyes that reflected a lifetime of defense. Finally understood the man behind them...and knew his truth.
Jonas Burke was not about to change. Not now. Not ever.
And not for her.
A tiny hope she hadn't wanted to acknowledge died a quiet death in her breast. Whatever it would take to make this man want to live, and not just survive, it wasn't something she could give him. She pushed upright from the vehicle and looked down at the sidewalk, gaze unseeing, mind unfocused.
"I think I'll find my own way back," she said.
Jonas didn't argue.
Chapter 39
Two hours after leaving Jonas at Honeyman's apartment, Kate closed the hotel door behind her, then tiptoed past the long form stretched out on the couch. One of Jonas’s forearms covered his eyes, the other rested across his chest. She couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. She tried to tell herself she didn't care. Knew she lied.
His voice stopped her at her bedroom door. "Kate."
She leaned her forehead against the doorframe, her eyes closed, listening to the shifting of his body as he sat up.
"We should talk."
She laughed at that, not even trying to hide the bitter amusement in the sound. "No. No, Jonas, I don't think we should talk anymore, because every time we talk, you get angry, and I get in deeper, and now I'm done. Let's just do this thing and get it over with so I can go home. Please."
Silence.
"I meant about Honeyman," he said at last. "And Douglas."
Kate squeezed her eyes tighter. Freaking hell. She stayed where she was, praying for divine intervention of some sort. Any sort. But when no lightning bolt struck and the floor stubbornly refused to open up and swallow her, she pried her fingers from the doorframe and turned. Jonas had sat up on the couch, elbows supported on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees.
Summoning every ounce of willpower she possessed, she walked over to drop her jacket onto the back of a kitchen chair. "I'm listening."
"Honeyman will help. He'll talk to Douglas and tell him everything in exchange for a deal. And he'll get us evidence. All the files and paperwork we need. He's going to the office tonight."
"And you trust him? After what he's done?"
"Do I have a choice?" Bitterness warred with defeat in his voice, in the weary gaze, and in the slump of his shoulders. "Without him, we—I—have nothing."
Kate gripped the chair back to hold herself in place. To keep from going to him and wrapping him in her arms and—
She looked away from him to the phone on the counter that divided the kitchenette from the living room. "I'll call Grant."
Her ex-fiancé answered on the first ring. "Douglas."
"Grant, it's Kate—"
"Where the hell are you?" Grant's voice roared across the line. "Why didn't you call me when we agreed? And where the fuck is Burke?"
Shock robbed her of a response. In all the years she'd known Grant Douglas, she'd never once heard him raise his voice—not even when she'd broken off their engagement. In fact, she hadn't thought him capable—
"Goddamn it, Kate, answer me!" Grant bellowed, making her jump.
"I'm in Newark," she said. "Jonas is with me. We had to leave the cabin when—"
"Never mind that. Has he been with you all day?"
"Who, Jonas? Yes, of course."
"You're sure."
Belatedly, Kate's instincts jolted to life. "What's going on, Grant?"
She turned as Jonas stood up from the couch, shaking her head and shrugging.
"Just answer the question," Grant ordered. "Has Burke been with you all day? Yes or no."
There was nothing friendly about his tone. Nothing even remotely familiar. A chill slithered down Kate's spine, but she didn't hesitate.
"Yes," she said, because she was damned if she'd throw Jonas under whatever bus Grant Douglas was driving. Not before she knew what was going on. Across the room, Jonas’s eyes narrowed. She turned away.
"He didn't go to see anyone?" Grant pressed.
"We went to see his handler. That's why I was calling you. Rick Honeyman—"
"Rick Honeyman is dead."
It took a moment for Grant's words to sink in. Then Kate's knees sagged, and she felt behind her for one of the chairs at the bistro-style table. "What?"
"He was shot this afternoon in his apartment—about two hours ago. The police received an anonymous tip, with Burke's description given."
"Oh, my God." Kate tried to think, but her brain had turned to sludge. "Oh, my God," she repeated softly.
"Kate, were you with Burke when he went to see Honeyman?"
"Yes—no—sort of." She bit her lip. As much as she wanted—no, needed—to protect Jonas, she knew that lying to Grant would only make things worse. "I waited in the car."
"So he went in alone. Damn it!"
Kate swallowed. "Rick was going to get us files," she whispered. "Papers. Everything we needed to prove—"
"Is that what Burke told you?"
"It's what I know. And you do, too. You've met him, Grant. You know he didn't kill Honeyman." She felt Jonas's gaze on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet it. Couldn't face the fresh defeat there.
"I don't know what I know, Kate," her ex said heavily. "I've been digging into every corner I can think of, and I can't find anything."
"Nothing at all?"
"Not enough to open an investigation—not on the timeline Burke has."
Strong fingers closed over the hand holding the receiver, and Kate looked up in surprise as Jonas tugged the instrument from her grasp. Her gaze searched his face, but she found none of the defeat she'd anticipated. Only a cold, hard determination as he put his hand over the mouthpiece.
"Do you trust him?" he asked.
She nodded.
Jonas's lips pulled tight. "Right. Then let's get this over with." He put the receiver to his ear. "Douglas, it's Burke. I know how to end this."
* * *
Long after Jonas had given Grant Douglas the hotel address and hung up the phone, he stood with his hand on the receiver, staring at the chipped countertop. Part of him wished he could recall the words he'd just spoken. Most of him just didn't want to face the questions he knew Kate would have. At last, he turned.
Kate sat at the table, tracing a circle with one fingertip on the wooden surface. She didn't look up.
"Kate—"
"So that's it?" she interrupted. "You paint a target on your back and put yourself out there as bait? That’s your plan?"
He folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. "We've run out of options. With Honeyman gone—"
"How do you know he didn't already tell them he gave you nothing?" She looked up, amber eyes flashing fire. "What reason will they have to believe you have anything on them? And why in hell would they believe you've suddenly decided to change sides?" She stood abruptly, and the chair crashed to the floor as she threw her arms wide. "How can you think—for so much as a second—that this will work?"
"Because I have no other choice. We have no other choice. We can't live the rest of our lives
hiding from Lewis and Ramirez."
"We can't, or I can't?"
His jaw hardened. "Like it or not, I'm the one who got you into this. And like it or not, I'm getting you out of it."
"Even if it means getting yourself killed?"
The ache in her voice reached out to wrap itself around his gut, and for a moment, he couldn't draw breath enough to respond—and then he couldn't find the words. While he had every intention of walking away from this alive, they both knew there were no guarantees, and he couldn't promise otherwise. He watched Kate cross the short distance separating them. Braced for her touch as she reached a hand toward his knotted forearm.
"Don't do this," she said quietly. "Please, Jonas. We'll find another way. Together."
Together. He let himself absorb the word, staring at the creamy, slender fingers against his skin. Felt the stir of possibility in his belly, his chest. Knew from the quick intake of Kate's breath that she felt it, too. His heart rate kicked up, and he raised his gaze to hers. In ageless, tacit invitation, her eyes softened and her lips parted. Ever so slightly. Oh, so temptingly.
Jonas closed his eyes. For a moment, he remembered the silk of her skin against his when he'd warmed her frozen body. The taste of her lips when he'd kissed her in Cornwall. Her words at the cabin: "What if I say yes?"
For a moment, he considered what it might be like—what it could be like. Here, now, with no barriers and nothing to stop them.
For a moment, together seemed possible.
And then reality returned.
Who the hell was he trying to kid? Even if he survived this fool's errand he'd set himself up for, he wouldn't be doing Kate any favors by giving in to her fantasy. Not when he still had every intention of going his own separate way. And damn it, he would go his separate way, because no matter how much it hurt to do so, it would still be infinitely better than watching Kate slowly destroyed as he dragged her down with him.
"I have work to do," he said, pulling away from her hand. Away from her. Amber eyes blinked at him, then narrowed. Kate crossed her own arms.
"That's it?" she asked, frustration giving her voice an edge. "We can't just keep dancing around one another like this, Jonas. How much longer do you think we can ignore this—this thing between us?"
Shadow of Doubt Page 21
