“Marit isn’t worth it? Taylor isn’t worth it?” Alexander asked softly. “You got both of them because of it.”
That had halted the discussion. That, and the arrival of Tira, the queen, who had done her level best to destroy their lives. But Alex had not forgotten, and a handful of hours later, he had found the precise answer when he had witnessed Brody, Veris and Taylor making love. He had slipped out discreetly as soon as he realized they had forgotten he was there, but he had spent a long night in an adjoining bedroom, wracked with something like envy and a certain despair, because he knew he would never have what they had.
Alex looked around at Rafe’s family, with dawning realization. This was the family he didn’t have. This was what he wanted—full acceptance…and love. But it wasn’t his family, either.
And where did Sydney fit into his life now? Because try as he might, he couldn’t imagine her not being in it somehow. If only she would allow it. Was that a fool’s errand that had run its course?
For a bleak moment, Alex looked over the landscape of his life and realized he was moving farther and farther into uncharted terrain. Nothing seemed simple or obvious anymore. Nothing was certain, not even his own mind.
Chapter Seven
When Alex showed up the next day, Sydney was genuinely surprised. She stepped back from the door, trying to absorb that he was here at all, and trying hard to ignore the wildly erotic images that leapt into her mind, of him with the faceless man. The images had followed her into her sleep last night and her dreams had been heated and explicit.
Alex raised a brow. “You’re going somewhere?” he asked.
“I am?” she asked, confused.
“You’re wearing a suit.”
She glanced down at the trousers. “I’m going in to check messages and mail. Clear my in-tray.”
“You’re not going to work,” Alex said. He stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him with a firm push. It wasn’t quite a slam. Then he turned back to face her again, and this time she could see he was pissed.
“I’m just going in for a while,” she said, although spoken aloud, the justification seemed very weak. “I’ll take it easy.”
“Even for a while, you’ll delay your recovering,” Alex said. “You need rest. It’s only been four days and you had a major concussion. You can’t stress yourself like this.”
“I’m going crazy in this apartment with no one but Bruce drooling on me!”
“I’ll buy you a TV and a DVD player,” Alex said flatly. “I’ll even take you shopping for more books, if it will keep you away from the high stress environment you call your job.”
“I don’t want to read anymore. That’s driving me crazy, too,” she replied, and it was true. All the books she had picked up in the last twenty-four hours had been highly suggestive, the plot lines almost mocking her with their thwarted lovers, lovers’ triangles, tragedies and more. “And I don’t want to sit on that sofa for a moment more. I’m getting bedsores!”
Alex’s glanced flickered toward her hips and back and she realized that he had been looking at her ass, what he could see of it. It was the first time she ever remembered Alex showing any overt interest in her body and confused, she bit her lip. “I have to move, Alex. Surely you can understand that? An hour, tops. Then I’ll come home and rest.”
Alex whirled his key ring around on his forefinger, thinking. “One hour,” he said firmly. “But, I drive you there and back. And I buy you a DVD player and a TV on the way home. Anything that will keep you occupied.”
“Okay, you can drive me to work, but you are not buying me a TV and a player,” she said, just as firmly. “If I must stay here, I’ll figure out another way to kill time.”
Alex nodded. “Deal. Why don’t you finish getting ready, and I’ll take Bruce out for a walk. He’s looking at me hopefully.” He reached out for the lead on the hat rack and Bruce leapt off the sofa and trotted over and sat down beside him.
Sydney sighed. “Traitor!” she told Bruce.
* * * * *
It only took five minutes of sitting in the passenger seat of Alex’s Jaguar for Sydney to know that driving to work in the rental car she had arranged to replace her Mustang would have been beyond her current abilities. The constantly moving cars made her gaze flicker from one spot to another and then there was the noise. She didn’t remember traffic being this noisy. But it was all making her wince and her head to thicken and hurt. If she’d had to concentrate on driving as well, it would have been impossible.
Alex drove well and seemed to have the reactions of a rally driver. It made the journey to the station all the more interesting, but she was very glad when he pulled the car up under the portico and the harsh sunlight was cut off. Even that had been adding to her discomfort.
She waved at Desmond, who was manning the reception desk inside the glass doors, then turned to face Alex, swiveling as far around on the seat as she could. “How did you know?” she asked, holding her fingers to her temple.
“A little thing called a medical degree,” Alex answered. He sat with his right hand resting on his knee, the car idling in neutral. He wasn’t in a hurry to kick her out.
“You specialized in internal medicine,” Sydney pointed out. “Last time I checked, the brain wasn’t part of that field.”
“I’ve had some experience with traumatic injuries,” he said softly.
“Why didn’t you just say that?” she asked.
“It wouldn’t have changed your mind.” He shrugged. “There’s very little that does.”
“You’re calling me stubborn?”
“If you are, it’s because of the profession you’re in,” Alex said, his voice still calm. “I don’t think you come by it naturally.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded his head. “You’re most welcome.”
“No, really. I mean thank you for all of it. For everything you’ve done for me.” She made herself stop before she spoke of the accident itself. It had been her imagination. Or he was lying. Either way, it wasn’t worth mentioning right now. “For helping me,” she finished lamely.
Alex gave her a small smile. “I wanted to.”
What that past tense? Sydney felt the same sinking sensation she had felt after Alex had left last night, and acted to neutralize it before it swamped her with black thoughts and bitter fears. She pulled herself over the center console and kissed him.
She heard his quick in-drawn breath as her lips met his. She didn’t let that stop her. She hadn’t really thought this through and as her lips met his, she thought she would simply give him a friendly, uncommitted kiss.
But the kiss lengthened all on its own. Her body tightened and pleasure spilled through her in a hot, bubbling rush. Every nerve end came on alert, fizzing and tingling. Sydney moaned softly as the tidal surge of desire washed through her.
Her moan acted like a catalyst. Alex hadn’t moved or reacted to her kiss, but when she moaned, he did. His hand cupped the back of her head and he pulled her more closely to him with the other.
It wasn’t her kissing Alex anymore. He was kissing her and it was hard and demanding and even better than she ever thought it would be. His tongue pressed inside her mouth and stroked her own. Someone moaned a second time. She didn’t know who, but the sound made her heart flutter. Her nipples were hard nubs brushing the inside of her shirt and the friction was delicious. She was very aware of Alex’s long-fingered hand pressing against her back. It was a heavy weight and rested low down, over her hip and it was moving restlessly, like he was stroking her.
She arched in reaction, her sizzling nerves leaping and that was when Alex ended the kiss. He kept her where she was, just far enough way so they could look at each other. His breath was fast and he was looked into her eyes. His expression was almost puzzled.
Sydney knew she was staring, too. Had that really happened? In all this long year of emails and calls and occasional stops-by in person, it had never occurred to her to think of Al
ex in a sexual way. Sex had been off her personal book for years now. Building a career in a male dominated field could be killed by a sexual scandal that other male officers could weather with their reputations more or less intact. So when Alex had begun to ask her out, Sydney hadn’t thought about it at all. Of course she would say no, and continue to say no as long as he asked. Even she wouldn’t have predicted she would spend two years saying no to him. But despite the length of time, she hadn’t changed her mind or weighed up the possibilities, or girlishly wondered what Alex would look like naked. It just hadn’t occurred to her to even speculate.
She swallowed, her heart slowly decreasing its beat. “I should have kissed you a long time ago,” she whispered. “It changes everything.”
Something flickered in Alex’s eyes, some emotion she couldn’t name because it disappeared too quickly. “Sydney—”
Tapping sounded on the window behind Sydney and she almost jumped. She had completely forgotten where they were. The station liked to keep the portico clear at all times. She scrambled back into her seat and lowered the windows.
Desmond grimaced. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine. I’m getting out now. Alex will pull out of the portico straight away.” She reached for her satchel on the back seat.
Desmond rested his hand on the windowsill before she could raise the window again. He leaned down even further, so he could see into the car. “Doctor Alexander Karim?” he asked.
“That is me,” Alex said evenly.
“If you wouldn’t mind, doctor, could you step inside the station for a bit? We have a couple of questions for you.”
“Regarding what matter?” Alex asked and it was a justified question. If it was about Brody’s case, then they couldn’t talk to him without a lawyer being present.
“It’ll only take a minute or two,” Desmond said. “You can park your car in the lot next to the station.” He straightened up and headed for the desk while Sydney watched him, her mind whirling.
“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Alex asked quietly, putting the car into gear and driving back out from under the portico and flipping the indicator so he could turn right into the traffic.
“I have absolutely no clue,” Sydney told him truthfully. “They’re not stupid enough to try to talk to you about Brody’s case. After that, there are no possibilities, but I’ve been away from my desk for four days, too.”
Alex grinned. “If you’re trying to make me feel guilty for insisting you rest and heal, don’t hold your breath waiting. I don’t grovel even when it’s needed.”
“No, it wouldn’t suit you,” Sydney agreed. “Alex…”
“Later,” Alex said shortly. He whipped the car onto the road, then into the parking lot. It was still early morning and a few bays were empty. Alex slotted the car into the first he saw with precision steering and killed the engine. He looked at her. “We do need to talk,” he said, his voice low. “But now isn’t the time. Let’s find out what your colleagues want with me, first.”
“I can wait, I guess, if you agree we should talk. But I don’t like the sound of that. Wouldn’t you rather ask me out to dinner, instead? Your weekly request is overdue by three days.”
Alex smiled briefly, and got out of the car and shut the door behind him. Sydney had barely got the door open when he was suddenly there, holding out his hand. “It’s low. Watch your head.”
She eased herself out and upright, using his hand for balance. For a moment they stood close to each other and she looked up into his eyes. He was watching her with what she thought might be wariness, which didn’t make her any happier.
Her body was still zinging and pulsing from the power of the kiss. The impulse to kiss him again was making it surge all over again. She swallowed and told herself to look away and step back from him. That was the sensible thing.
But she couldn’t do it. Alex seemed to sway closer to her and her heart leapt. He wanted to kiss her, too! She could see the knowledge in his eyes. The need.
He didn’t take the kiss. Instead, he stepped backward like she should have done, and let her thread her way between the cars.
The door shut behind her and Sydney made herself keep walking, heading for the station.
Alex caught up with her as they moved through the opening in the chain link fence that gave easy access to the station. His hand touched her shoulder. “We will talk,” he said quietly.
Sydney sighed. “I think I already know what you’re going to say.”
* * * * *
Alex looked around the room. It was a battered, paint-chipped bare square, with linoleum tiles on the floor, green paint on the walls and a bank of one-way mirrors. The table and four chairs sitting in the middle matched in age and decrepitude. No wonder interrogation rooms on TV all looked the same. They were cast out of the same mold as this one.
Sydney turned to face the door. “What the hell, Clintock?” she demanded of the detective walking right behind them with a file in his hands. “An interview room?”
“This really will only take a few minutes,” Clintock said. He was a short, barrel chested man, but his suit fit very well, which was one cliché Alex hadn’t seen so far.
“If this is about Brody Gallagher’s case—”
“Actually, Lieutenant, it’s about your car accident.” Clintock waved to the table. “You can sit in on the conversation, Lieutenant, but you can’t answer for Doctor Karim.”
“I know the drill,” Sydney said, pulling out one of the metal chairs with an impatient tug. She yanked on the second and it squealed its way across the tiles. She patted the seat, looking at Alex. “Let’s get this over with, then, if it really is going to take a couple of minutes.”
Clintock sat opposite them and put the file in front of him. He didn’t open it. Instead he threaded his fingers together loosely and looked at Alex. “Where were you at eleven fifty p.m., four nights ago, doctor?”
Alex shrugged. “At a birthday party for a friend of mine. Ask her. Taylor Gallagher-Gerhardsson. Four-two-four, five-five-five, six-nine-eight-two.”
“Thank you,” Clintock said, taking down the name and number in a notepad he fished out of his pocket. “We will certainly ask your friend.” He didn’t point out that one of Taylor’s last names was the same as Brody’s. “You weren’t in the car with Lieutenant Stevens when the accident happened?” His voice was calm. There was no threat in it.
“No.”
“Or standing nearby and saw it happen?”
“No.”
Clintock nodded. “That makes my job a bit more difficult.”
“Sorry,” Alex said shortly.
Clintock opened the file and pulled out a handful of eight by ten glossy photographs and spread them across the table. “It makes your job more difficult, too,” Clintock added.
Sydney leaned over the photos and her breath sucked in sharply, but she said nothing.
Alex looked at the grainy images. It was black and white footage that still shots had been taking from, because all the photos looked nearly the same. They had been selected from a few seconds apart.
Sydney’s car had finished rolling and in the background, about twenty yards away, sat a Ford Explorer, with a big cattle grill protecting the hood. What was left of Sydney’s car was mangled, scraped wreckage, and through the crushed window frame, Sydney’s face showed as a white disk.
Alex stood next to the car.
He drew in his breath. “That’s not me,” he said quickly.
Sydney looked at him. Her eyes were big. Puzzled.
“It isn’t me,” he insisted. “I can’t explain it. But it’s not me. It’s someone who looks like me.” He tapped the grainy image of the man looking toward the Explorer. “He doesn’t have a beard.”
Sydney blew out her breath and looked at Clintock. “He can’t grow a full beard like he has now in four days. He’s had that beard for months. Besides, I saw him at the hospital just afterward and he had the beard then.”
<
br /> Clintock nodded. “Sir, you’re a compromised witness in this,” he said to Sydney. “You got your head banged up and the docs tell me that sketchy memory is often an issue in cases like yours. So I can’t use you as corroboration. You do understand?”
Sydney nodded. ‘Of course. But check Alex’s alibi. I’m sure it will hold up.”
Clintock nodded and started to gather up the photos again, but Alex held out his hand. “Who is the other person? The one by the Explorer?”
Clintock grimaced. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me, Doctor. That hood he’s wearing hides his face in every security cam and traffic cam feed we’ve been able to recover. It’s like the bastard knew which way not to look.” He stood up. “But if you don’t mind, doctor, could you stick around for a while? I’d like to check out your story.”
“Am I under arrest, detective?” Alex asked.
Clintock weighed it up. “I can’t stop you leaving,” he said finally. “But ask the Lieutenant how that would look to us, if you do.”
“Sorry, Alex,” Sydney said softly. “He’s right. Best to stay.”
Alex pulled out his phone. “I understand,” he said.
“Who are you calling?” Clintock asked curiously.
“My lawyer,” Alex said shortly.
Sydney got to her feet and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll give you privacy,” she said and walked after Clintock. “Detective!” She caught the door as he held it open and began to talk even before the door closed. Her tone was harsh, almost angry. Alex wondered if she was aware of how much her voice, her posture and her attitude changed when she was on the job.
Rafe answered the call without delay. “Alex,” he said, and his voice was warm.
“It’s not a social call, Rafe,” Alex said.
He could almost hear Rafe sitting up, his focus snapping in. “What’s happened?”
“I’m at the Forty-Third precinct station. They haven’t arrested me, but they’ve implied that if I leave here it won’t look good. They have photos of what looks like me at the site of a hit and run…and I wasn’t there, Rafe.” The last came out more stridently than he wanted it to. Fear, or any emotion, implied that he was involved in some way, and he knew without a shred of doubt that he hadn’t been at the accident. But the photos…. He squeezed the phone a bit harder. “Could you come down and sort it out?” he asked quietly, forcing his tone to calmness. “The only other lawyer I know stopped practicing two hundred years ago.”
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