Partner-Protector

by Julie Miller

  He took her hand, touching her chilly skin with his own, and placed it against his cheek. “If you’re going to read something, read this. You are the only woman, the only person I’m thinking about right now.”

  He watched the struggle to believe in those soft brown eyes. “I can’t read minds,” she whispered. But she didn’t pull away.

  T smiled. “Then listen to my words. I need you to be safe. I find it very stressful when you’re screaming my name and I’m not there.” She almost smiled at that. “I intend to stay with you tonight.”

  She nodded and dropped her hand down to the placket of his shirt, but he got the idea she was letting go more from fatigue and headache than from revulsion or distrust. “Take me home, T.”

  When they reached his Jeep, he tucked her inside beneath the blanket and cranked up the heat. Placing the portable red-and-white siren light on the top of his car to dissuade any curiosity seekers from paying her a visit, he locked the doors and hurried back inside the mission to retrieve their coats and her purse. He found Siegel and Wingate still sitting in the clinic, sharing a drink and talking. T warned Siegel that he’d be back tomorrow to follow up on whatever harm might have come to Kelsey.

  On the way out, he took note of every parked car, a couple with people sitting inside. He checked every window facing the street and lost count of all the people interested in his and Kelsey’s business. He eyed Zero and his buddies hanging beneath the streetlight. And he caught a glimpse of a light going out in an upstairs window of the mission.

  Someone in this neighborhood knew more than they were telling. Maybe a lot of someones. But they held tight to their secrets with the same tenacity with which they held on to life here in no-man’s land.

  Someone knew he was closing in on a killer.

  Someone knew Kelsey might be the key.

  And he knew that someone was watching.

  THE DRIVE TO KELSEY’S HOME was long and silent. She wanted to hold his hand—glove free—all the way, and T didn’t mind a bit.

  By the time he turned into her driveway, he realized that exhaustion had claimed her. Breaking one of his mother’s cardinal rules, he got into her purse without permission and retrieved her keys. He unlocked the house first, convinced the dog he was a friend, then went back and pulled Kelsey into his arms.

  The run and the cold and the scuffle with Siegel had turned his knee into a swollen throb of pain. But he limped along and slowly but surely carried her to her bed. He removed her boots and her belt and unsnapped her jeans. He tucked the quilts up to her chin and bent low to press a kiss to her forehead.

  “Good night, Kels. Sweet dreams.”

  She stirred beneath him when his lips touched her skin.

  “Can you feel that?” he wondered aloud.

  Even in her sleep, could she sense how scared he’d been when he’d heard her cry for help? How desperate he’d been when he couldn’t immediately find her out in the frigid night? Or was she sensing other things? Like being shot? Being abandoned by his father?

  Feeling strangely intuitive for a man who functioned in a world of facts, T kicked off his shoes and belt, and unbuttoned his shirt. He climbed onto the bed beside Kelsey and gathered her into his arms, quilts and all, and held her until she settled quietly against him.

  “Feel this, sweetheart.” He concentrated on every laugh they’d shared, every moment they’d touched, every time they’d butted heads and come out stronger for it. He thought of his friends at the precinct and his mother’s unfailing support. He considered the questionable wisdom of a man like him falling for a woman like Kelsey. “Feel this,” he whispered.

  And he held her tight until he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get this meeting started.”

  Captain Mitch Taylor’s imposing presence had always been enough to capture T’s attention. But this morning, he had to hear the booming voice that needed no microphone in order to turn his focus from the early breakfast he’d shared with Kelsey to the Fourth Precinct’s morning roll call meeting.

  “First up, it’s New Year’s Eve in the big city. Most of this will fall onto C shift, but let’s try to stave off any problems before they start. We can plan on a few parties getting too loud, a few drunks celebrating too hard. I especially want you to keep an eye…”

  The routine warnings and sobriety sweeps became background noise as T returned to the bright music of Kelsey’s voice over breakfast. She wasn’t back to full sass, but she was able to laugh and tease Frosty, and comment on what a great chef T was for fixing them cereal, coffee and peanut-butter toast.

  T had gotten up early, knowing he needed to get back to his own apartment to change before driving into work. But he’d almost been willing to forgo clean clothes and stay the extra minutes. After her morning shower, Kelsey had look refreshed, except for the light shadows beneath her eyes. Remnants of her headache, she’d explained. She’d come out to eat before gelling her hair in its rock-star do, and it fell in soft natural waves that framed her face and kissed her nape.

  And she didn’t have to worry about the comfy gray sweats she’d put on being any kind of turnoff. He’d spent most of the night memorizing her lush curves and wishing his mother hadn’t raised him to be such a noble guy. Every time he’d woken up through the night—to identify a noise, to shift positions, to check on Kelsey—he’d been happily aroused. But instead of climbing under the covers with her, he’d snuggled her tight, imagined gentle, positive thoughts and fallen back to sleep.

  He had a dizzying feeling that once he kissed her—and he fully intended to cast aside her doubts and do it—there’d be no turning back. He and Kelsey were flint and stone, and once the spark was struck…

  “Detective Banning.” T had to be nudged in the arm to realize that the front-desk sergeant, Maggie Wheeler, had whispered his name. “Sorry to interrupt.” She slid him a sealed manila folder across the long, narrow conference desk. “It’s the lab report from CSI.”

  “Thanks.”

  He sat up to open the envelope and scan the contents while tuning a closer ear to Captain Taylor’s morning briefing.

  “…so that’s an official no-progress on the Baby Jane Doe murder.” The captain flipped a page on his clipboard. “Next up are the Holiday Hooker murders. Banning, you’ve been busy on this one. Any updates?”

  With the rejuvenating thrill of answers finally starting to fall into place, he read off the highlights of the report. “I’ve got the Susan Cooper, aka Delilah, murder weapon. A silk scarf. Apparently, epithelial cells on the scarf match samples taken from the victim.”

  Kelsey had known that before any scientific data could prove it. His departmental consultant was turning out to be a compass, guiding him through this investigation. Leading him in a direction toward suspects he might not have considered before.

  “They’re running further tests to see if they can match it to any of the other victims. All roads seem to lead back to the Wingate Mission,” he reported. “Reverend Wingate offered up his lodging records voluntarily. Each of the victims stayed at the mission the night before she died.”

  “So you’re looking at someone who works at the mission?”

  A vivid image of Marlon Siegel’s hands clutched around Kelsey’s throat distracted him for a moment. But he blinked it aside and answered the captain. “Right.” He did have to be fair, since he currently lacked the hard evidence to accuse Siegel of anything more than being a drunk who lacked a gentle healing touch. “The departmental consultant is pointing me toward an employee or someone with regular access to the building.”

  “The consultant.” A low voice laughed at the table behind him. But not so low that T couldn’t hear it. That was probably the point. “You’re actually listening to what that Flake is telling you? Oh, sorry, boss man. Ms. Ryan.”

  T gripped the edges of the table, keeping his fists from forming. Josh Taylor sat beside him. He leaned his big shoulder clos
er and whispered. “I can reach him from here if you want me to.”

  T had to grin at the offer. Slow, pudgy, over-the-hill Watkins wouldn’t stand a chance against big, bad, buff Josh Taylor. Still, there was personal satisfaction at stake. Amusing as it might be to see those two go head-to-head, T had other plans. “I’m waiting for the right moment when I can lay him flat myself—and not get a reprimand in my file. Or better yet, I’ll let Kelsey have the fun. She could take him.”

  Josh chuckled out loud and the tension was broken.

  Captain Taylor continued. “So the next step is running records and profiles on employees and neighborhood regulars?”

  T nodded. “I’ve already got the programs set up to run.”

  “Good work. Sounds like you’ve made more headway in a week than we have in a decade.” He marked something on his clipboard. “Josh and A. J., you just wrapped up that meth lab sting—why don’t you work with Banning on the background checks.”

  “Will do.” A. J. nodded and jotted the assignment in his notebook.

  Josh gave a thumbs-up and leaned over to whisper. “This way I can find out why you paid my wife a visit yesterday.”

  “I was there to see Kelsey, not Dr. Livesay.”

  Josh gave him one of those wink, wink grins, as if he’d just revealed something he shouldn’t. “Yeah, Rache wants me to find out about that, too.”

  “And Watkins.” Captain Taylor’s voice was bringing the meeting to a close. T should have known that Mitch Taylor’s keen observation skills hadn’t missed the ribbing exchanged a few moments earlier. “You worked the Jezebel case. Hit a stone wall. Since you’re familiar with the mission district, I want you to report to Banning and give him whatever assistance he needs. Look at it as the chance to get the one who got away.”

  T assumed, from the groan and grumble behind him, that Watkins was a little irked that his failure to solve that crime—and prevent others like it—just got broadcast.

  For some reason, he just couldn’t help but smile. Payback didn’t always require a fist in the mouth to be satisfying.

  “The last thing,” Captain Taylor went on, knowing his decision wouldn’t be questioned, “is that Commissioner Cartwright has taken a personal interest in the Holiday Hooker murders. With the homicide on the twenty-fifth all over the news, she intends to put out some counterpublicity to highlight progress being made on that investigation and others. So everybody needs to be aware that the press is going to be a bigger presence in our lives for the next few days or even weeks.” T added his own moan to the murmur of groans and curses across the room. “Be prepared for phone calls and cameras when you least expect it. Be polite. Be honest. But make us look good. If you question anything, run it by me first.”

  When Captain Taylor closed his clipboard, everyone in the room followed suit and put away notepads, pens and PalmPilots. The shuffle of noise crescendoed with scraping chairs and moving bodies once the captain called out, “Dismissed. Let’s go get ’em.”

  Josh and A. J. touched base with T, divvied up assignments and headed for the break room. Putting his glasses back on, T scanned the rest of the lab report and joined the migration from the conference room back to desks, offices and elevators.

  “T?”

  He imagined the sound more than he actually heard it. Peeling off his glasses, he stopped and looked up. Kelsey was sitting at his desk, just like that first meeting, waiting for him. The same alertness energized her posture. The same black-and-white coat and fire-red hair snagged at least a passing glance from everyone on the floor.

  Anticipation suffused him. He almost smiled.

  Almost.

  He frowned. There was something different today. This time, when he made contact with those soft brown eyes, she translated an urgent, personal message. Everything inside him tightened with concern.

  “T.”

  He heard her now. He was already closing the distance between them when she shot out of the chair and zigzagged through the desks to meet him. She was almost running. Running to him. “Kelsey?” He reached out and caught her beneath the elbow as she barreled to a halt and snatched up a handful of his lapel. “What’s wrong? Did you see something else?”

  He could feel her shaking. Her mouth dropped open, but instead of answering, she caught a shallow breath and glanced to the side. Her chin dropped. She released him as quickly as she had first grabbed him and retreated a step.

  “I’m sorry.” What was she apologizing for?

  “What is—?” He followed her line of sight and nailed Ed Watkins’s odious leer. A bolt of white-hot anger charged through T’s system. Making jokes behind Kelsey’s back was one thing; being rude to her face wasn’t gonna happen. “You son of a—”

  “Hey, Watkins.” A. J. Rodriguez had spotted the same trouble. Whatever that sixth sense of his had detected, he silently offered T the backup he needed. With an I’ll-handle-this nod, the dark-haired detective turned to Ed Watkins and smiled. “Over here. You’re going to sit down and tell me everything you know about Jezebel’s murder.”

  “Now?” A. J. never blinked. “Now.”

  With a curse beneath his breath, the sergeant followed A. J. over to his desk and took a seat. Not waiting for any more interruptions, not wanting Kelsey to feel like a spectacle any longer, T took her by the arm and guided her to an empty interrogation room.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he apologized, closing the door for privacy and offering her a seat. “A. J. will set him straight for being so damn rude.”

  “Sergeant Watkins isn’t the first person to gawk at me.” She’d chosen to stand. She was rubbing her grandmother’s pendant through the lime-green sweater and striped blouse she wore. Bad sign. She was really agitated about something. “But he creeps me out because he never blinks when he stares. It’s like those beady little eyes can see right through this stuff—” she fluffed her fingers through her hair and plucked at her sweater “—and see what a freak I really am.”

  “Hey.” He circled the table but she put up her hand and warned him off. He respected her wish and halted a few feet away, but he wouldn’t give up the argument. “You are not a freak.”

  “You thought so a few days ago.”

  “I know you…better,” he amended, thinking there were probably mysteries about this complicated woman he might never understand. “It bothers me to hear you talk that way about yourself. You’re smart, intuitive, caring, feisty, stubborn, brave.”

  She cocked one eyebrow and almost smiled. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He shrugged. Eloquence wasn’t his strong suit, but Kelsey saved him. “You sounded a lot like Lucy Belle just now.”

  “Yeah? Well, then I think I would have liked her.”

  “She would have liked you.” Letting the pendant go, she gripped the back of one of the chairs and glanced at the door. “I think Sergeant Watkins reminds me of my exfiancé.” She glanced back. “Lucy Belle didn’t like him.”

  “You were engaged?” Why did he find that so surprising? Why did it bother him that she’d had a serious relationship with another man?

  “Can you believe it? Not the smartest six months of my life.” She hunched her shoulders and shivered, as if the experience had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  The unexpected stab of jealousy eased. “Why didn’t it work out?”

  “Mostly because he called me things like freak and witch and worse.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Kelsey grinned. “He was.”

  But T’s anger hadn’t fully abated, and a lot of it was directed at himself. “I apologize for ever labeling you. You’d think I’d have been a little more accepting. I’ve had a few stigmas of my own to outgrow. I should have understood.”

  Kelsey reached out and took his hand. She wore her gloves this morning and he missed the skin-on-skin contact. But he wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed back, appreciating the forgiveness and comfort she offered. “The difference with you, T. Merle Banning, is that yo
u learn from your mistakes. You keep trying to make yourself a smarter, better person. Men like Watkins and my ex never see the world through anyone’s eyes but their own.”

  “And you see it through everyone’s.”

  His compassionate statement filled the room with quiet. Kelsey pulled her hand away and hugged her arms around her waist, reaching for the pendant again.

  T pulled back from his emotional reactions to this woman and tried to focus on being a cop. “What’s wrong? What made you come in this morning? I said I’d finish the investigation without getting you any further involved.”

  Kelsey pulled out a chair and sank into it. “Somebody else might not be giving me that same choice.”

  “What do you mean? Did something happen?” He unbuttoned his camel tweed blazer and sat in the chair beside her.

  She worked those turquoise-gloved fingers together on top of the table. “First of all, thank you for staying the night with me. You are one amazing gentleman. But you could have sent me home in a cab.”

  “A cabbie wouldn’t tuck you in.”

  Her cheeks warmed with color. “You did more than just tuck me in. You made me feel…secure. Like it was okay to let things go while you were there. That’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months.”

  So she’d been snoozing in the land of Nod, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d been horny as a son of a gun all night. The compliment flattered him, frustrated him—made him feel potent all over again. But this wasn’t about him.

  “But something this morning made you feel insecure?”

  She nervously glanced at her hands, then looked him straight in the eye and answered. “Someone was watching the house this morning.”

  His protective instincts flared; he’d had the feeling someone had been watching them last night at the mission. But his cop instincts kept him from overreacting. “Explain.”

  “There was a car parked in front of the house. They pulled up and parked just a few minutes after you left.”