by Karen Rose
“The wife?” Trip asked.
“Living with her sister,” Diesel commented.
Adam remembered the plate of cookies he held. “You earned all of these.”
“Not all of them.” Trip snatched one of the gingerbread men from the plate. “Give him yours if you want to. I’m starving.”
Adam broke the head off his cookie and popped it in his mouth. “That’s really good.” He handed the plate to Diesel. “Thanks, man. I owe you one. I mean it.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m one of Meredith’s fans. She does good work for kids.” A shadow passed over his face. “Wish I’d had someone like her when I was a kid.” He pointed to the stairs. “Go put Voss away. Please.”
“Yeah,” Adam said gruffly. “We will.”
Chapter Nine
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, December 19, 9:35 p.m.
The phone call had come during the last stanza of “O Holy Night,” his solo in the Christmas cantata. He’d had his ringer on mute, but he’d felt the vibration in his pocket and had to fight the urge to stop midnote and answer it. He’d set up an individual ringtone and vibration pattern for Butch, because he communicated only when it was necessary.
He made nice with the handshaking and smiling at all the church members for as long as he could before bolting outside in the freezing cold, still wearing his choir robe. He redialed Butch as he walked. “What?” he asked.
“I couldn’t find Shane Baird.”
The third in Linnea’s little trio. “Where did you look?”
“Started with the dorm address you gave me. The guy at the desk is his friend. Kid gave me lip and pushed the panic button.”
His heart sank. “Tell me you weren’t captured on security footage.”
“Of course not. And even if the kid does talk to the cops, I was wearing my face.”
His facial prosthetics. Without them, Butch looked even more frightening, his face having been destroyed in the fire that had brought them together, actually. Meth lab fires, unfortunately for Butch, burned hot.
“All right,” he said. “What happened then?”
“I left the dorm, but stuck around the campus. Figured Shane’s friend had to leave sometime and he did. Drove his car to a Burger King off campus. I waited till he came out, but he didn’t. A girl did. They must have done a key switch because she drove his junk heap away. I’m following her now. What do you want me to do?”
“Find out who she is,” he snapped. “Then find her damn car.”
Butch grunted. “I knew that part. I meant, how far am I allowed to go?”
“Do whatever you want. Just don’t leave any loose ends.” Because he had enough of those right now, thank you very much.
“Sure, boss. I’ll let you know what I find out. Oh, wait. You still there?”
“Yes,” he asked, forcing patience. “What else?”
“Uh, have you seen the Internet since you been in the church?”
“No. Why?”
“They got a photo of the Gold kid. Somebody got him on video, real clear, right before his head exploded. It’s all over the news.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. It would be only a matter of time before Andy was identified and he didn’t know what the kid had in his apartment that could connect to Linnea. He did not want the cops to find her first. “I’ll take care of it. You just bring me Shane Baird.”
Ending the call, he drew a breath and reset his own face, his expression smiling and beatific. He knew this because he practiced in the mirror every single day.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, December 19, 9:35 p.m.
Adam and Trip silently climbed the stairs to Meredith’s kitchen, where Kendra waited by the door, a large brown paper sack in each hand. She studied Trip’s face first, smiling at whatever she saw there. “Food,” she said, handing Trip his bag. “Roast beef on Bailey’s homemade bread. There’s a bowl of stew, some cookies, and a slice of pumpkin pie.” She patted his stomach fondly. “It ought to keep you for an hour. Maybe two.”
Trip grunted his thanks, then pecked her cheek. “Thank you. I’ll call you later.”
“You do that.” She turned to Adam, her smile disappearing completely. She was all cop, stern to the point of almost hostile. “Your bag’s got the same. I was tempted to put ipecac in your stew, but Bailey reminded me that was not legal.”
Okay, no almost about it. Totally hostile. Adam’s gaze flew across the kitchen to where Bailey and Delores were quietly working. Bailey was kneading a lump of dough with her fists and Delores was decorating gingerbread men, deftly squeezing icing from a bag. Bailey gave him a silent nod, as if affirming she’d stepped in to avert his being poisoned.
“Thank you?” Adam said, making it a question, which made Bailey smile.
“I did it more for me,” Bailey said. “I’d prefer Hope not having to go caroling at jail because Kenny’s behind bars.”
“Well, as long as your motivation is pure,” he said dryly, and she chuckled.
Kendra was not amused. She shoved the bag into his hands. “Do not hurt Meredith,” she hissed. “She is ready to break and it is scaring us to pieces.”
He deserved the warning, felt the shame wash over his face. But he knew the truth. “She’s stronger than you think.” Meredith would survive if he walked away. But I would not. He swallowed hard. “But she shouldn’t have to be so strong.”
Kendra’s expression softened minutely. “What are you gonna do about that?”
“Kenny,” Bailey admonished. “Not our business. Let him go. He has a job to do.”
“I’m going to try to fix it,” he answered nonetheless.
Kendra didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t look homicidal anymore, either. “When?” She held up a hand when Bailey started to admonish her again. “I just need to know when I need to be here to pick up the pieces if he fucks it up.”
Shaking her head, Delores put the bag of icing aside and brought Adam the cookie she’d been decorating. The gingerbread man had a small star on the left side of his chest, what looked like a gun at his waist, and a square box drawn over where his heart should be. The star and the gun he understood, but the box with the little clump of icing in its middle was a mystery. “What is that?” he asked, pointing.
“It’s supposed to be a keyhole,” Delores said.
“Why?” he asked. “I mean, why a keyhole?”
Her smile was guileless. “You’ve got a heart, Adam, but you keep it locked away most of the time. Except I’ve seen it,” she added in a stage whisper.
“When?” Kendra’s genuine surprise was another well-deserved kick in Adam’s gut.
Delores continued to smile up at him. “Do you think I don’t know who comes to clean out the cages in my animal shelter before you think I’m awake?”
Adam’s cheeks heated again, this time in embarrassment. Busted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Delores just laughed, a happy sound like bells. “I have security cameras outside my house, in the shelter, even outside in the puppy pens. Stone installed them. It lets him sleep at night, without standing guard on my front porch.” She pressed her index finger to Adam’s chin, closing his mouth, which had fallen open.
He shouldn’t have been so surprised. Stone O’Bannion was head over heels for Delores and the man was no fool. He and Diesel worked closely on those Ledger articles exposing child-harming lowlifes. Diesel did the digging and Stone did the writing—and neither of them ever got caught. They were careful.
I should have looked for cameras, dammit.
Delores patted his shoulder. “Stone says thank you, by the way. Saves him from having to clean the cages all the time. Between you, Stone, and Diesel, I haven’t cleaned a cage in months.” Her gaze flicked over his shoulder. “And I suddenly need to do something in the
other room. Bailey? Kendra? I need your help.”
He didn’t need to be a detective to know that Meredith stood behind him in the doorway. Bailey cleaned dough from her hands with a smirk and, still scowling, Kendra gave him the “I’m watching you” sign as they dutifully filed from the room, Delores’s giant dog trailing faithfully after them.
For a long moment he stood frozen, the bag of food clutched in his hands, unable to face her. Then he turned in place and looked at her. Really looked at her. She looked . . . shocked, her zen veneer nowhere to be seen. Her green eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, her brows crunched in question. She clasped her hands together in a white-knuckled grip.
But he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. Don’t fuck this up.
“I . . .” She blew out a breath. “You clean cages at the shelter for Delores?”
He winced, because he could hear the hurt in her voice. “I have. Before. A few—” He stopped the lie before it passed his lips. It hadn’t been a few times. It had been at least twice a week. Every week. “I wanted to help.”
Her slender throat worked as she fought to swallow. “And you volunteer at Mariposa House.” Her green eyes grew abruptly shiny. “When I’m not there.”
Oh shit. Not tears. He could not deal with tears. He didn’t have time to figure out tears. He took a step forward. “Meredith.”
She shook her head, holding up a hand to ward him off. “No, it’s okay. I’m getting the picture, Adam.” Her chin came up and in a fluid motion she blinked and dashed the tears off her cheeks with impatient fingers. “You want to be part of the group. Of the circle. Just . . . not with me.” Her smile reappeared, that zen smile he was growing to despise. “And that’s okay. They’re your friends and family, too. It doesn’t have to be awkward. I won’t make this hard for you.”
His mouth went dry, words dying on his tongue. Once again, she’d misunderstood. Because she doesn’t know the truth. Tell her the goddamn truth.
He closed his eyes for the span of one heartbeat, opened them to find her returning to the living room. Over her shoulder he could see Kendra standing by the front window like a fucking sentry, arms crossed over her chest, motioning to the door with her head.
Oh, for God’s sake. Do something. Now.
“Wait,” he ground out, reaching to grab Meredith’s arm. He pulled her into the kitchen, dragging her past the doorway, away from the prying eyes in the next room.
“Adam,” she protested as he backed her against the refrigerator. “What the—”
He silenced her with his mouth, taking her lips with a desperate ferocity that had him trembling. He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t wanted to do it this way. But . . . Go big or go home.
He dropped the bag, not caring where it fell, and dug his fingers into her hair, lifting her face to perfect their fit. She was unresponsive, stunned into immobility. At first. Then she made a noise in the back of her throat, a hungry little moan, and he was lost.
This. This was what he’d needed, what he’d craved. More than the booze. More than anything else. Everything else faded away, the noise in his mind fading as he kissed her and kissed her and . . . drank her in. Like air. She was necessary.
Her hands cradled his face, so gently he wanted to cry. His chest hurt with the need to weep. From relief that she was letting him touch her. From sorrow that he’d hurt her. From regret at the time he’d wasted.
Not wasted, he told himself as he drew back, only far enough to breathe. It wasn’t wasted. It was important that he’d taken the time. Reclaimed himself. So that he could now tell her why he’d stayed away. He hoped she’d understand.
Her eyes were closed, her russet lashes dark against the cream of her skin.
“Everything you thought . . .” He trailed off, words failing him. “You were wrong.”
Her breasts brushed his chest with the breath she drew. “About?”
“I was not avoiding being with you.” Her eyes opened, clearly disbelieving. She started to retreat, to twist away, but he stopped her, sliding one hand from her hair down her back, holding her in place. “Wait. I mean—” He jerked his gaze to the ceiling, cursing under his breath before dropping his eyes to meet hers again. “I mean I was avoiding you, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”
God. He wanted a drink. Needed a drink. He was shaking.
“Shh,” she soothed, relaxing against the refrigerator, no longer trying to run. “What were your reasons?”
He glanced over his shoulder to the open doorway that led to her living room. “I can’t tell you right now. I have to do an interview and there are way too many people in your house.” Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against hers, sighing when her fingers raked through his hair, petting him. Gentling him. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
“All right,” she murmured. “I’ve waited this long.”
His shoulders sagged, relieved. “You may still throw me out when I’m done, but I want it to be for the right reasons.”
Her fingers stilled. “Um, was that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked. “’Cause it didn’t.”
Gripping the soft folds of the back of her sweater, he forced himself to look at her when he said, “I’m clumsy with words. Around you, anyway. Meredith, I . . .” He shuddered out a breath. “I want you so much, I can’t think straight.”
Her breath hitched, eyes growing shiny once again, even as her mouth curved. “Then I’ll be patient.”
“Thank you. I have to go now.” He groaned. “And I’m going to have to brave the gauntlet in there.” He was raw inside. He wasn’t looking forward to the looks of interest, pity, and suspicion, depending on whose face he saw.
“Then go down the stairs and out the back,” she said softly. “You’ll only see Diesel and he’s clumsy with words, too.”
He found himself laughing. “Maybe that’s why we get along so well. We don’t say much when we’re working at Mariposa.” It was with great regret that he pulled her hands from his hair. “I will come back. Tonight if I can. Tomorrow for sure.”
“I’ll be here.”
He sobered abruptly. “Please do be. I won’t be able to do my job if I’m worrying about you getting hurt because you’re out somewhere.”
Her brows lifted. “You think I’m going anywhere? The horde may be here to keep me company, but they’re also here to keep me here.”
“I’m glad.” He took a few steps back, dropping her hands only when the distance between them necessitated it. He made a break for the basement door, like the coward he was, and was halfway down the stairs when she called his name.
She stood in the doorway, holding the bag of food. “Your dinner.”
He ran back up, unable to keep himself from taking another hard kiss. “Thanks,” he said, and nearly stumbled when his foot hit only air. He kept himself from falling only by gripping the handrail. Rolling his eyes at the smile she tried to bite back, he turned and jogged down the rest of the stairs without looking back.
Diesel lifted his eyes when Adam approached. “Back so soon?”
“Don’t be an asshole,” Adam said without heat. “Where’s the back door?”
Diesel pointed to a hallway. “Through there. Lock’s a fucking joke.”
“I’ll fix it.”
Diesel waved him off. “Her grandpa already plans to. It’ll keep him occupied for part of tomorrow so he doesn’t drive her fucking crazy, hovering.” He tilted his bald head. “Did you fix things with her?”
“Not all the way, but I’ll be back. Tell her grandfather not to shoot me when I do. It may be really late.”
“Text me. I’ll be up. I’ll let you in through the back if the house is still full of people. Right now you are persona non grata with the ladies.”
Adam nodded, relieved. “Thanks, man. You gonna keep searching?”
“Always.
I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”
“Thanks, man. Later.”
“Adam.”
Diesel’s uncertain tone had Adam pausing midstep. “Yeah?”
“I’m . . . I’m available,” he said uncomfortably. “If you need to go a round in the ring or just run till you run off the need.”
Adam blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
Diesel sighed. “You know Stone went through rehab, right?”
Adam nodded, wary beyond words. He knew that Stone had been addicted to heroin, but he didn’t know what Diesel’s role had been in Stone’s recovery. “Yeah. And?”
“I was . . . I was there for him. We lifted weights or ran together, at the track, in the park. So that he stayed sober. Until he could do it on his own.”
Adam sucked in a lungful of air, let it out slowly while he contemplated his reply. “You checked me out?” he asked, pointing to the laptop again.
Diesel shook his head hard. “No. Absolutely no. I can just tell. I see your eyes go glassy sometimes, when someone around you has a beer. And, man, the volunteering? That’s a total giveaway. You’ve been making amends all over the damn place. I just wanted to tell you that you don’t have to do it alone. That’s all.”
Adam exhaled in a rush, sudden fear and gratitude warring with each other. “Did you tell anyone?”
“No. And I don’t think anyone else has noticed. If they have, nobody’s gossiping about it. I didn’t want to tell you that I knew, but today’s been rough for you. The kind of day a man can fall off the wagon and it would be hard to blame him. But you’d blame yourself. That’s why you’ve stayed away, isn’t it? From Meredith?”
Adam nodded once, unwilling to talk about it until he’d talked to her. “Thank you.” He held up his fist and Diesel bumped it. “I mean that, Diesel. See you later.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, December 19, 9:45 p.m.
Linnea’s eyes darted side to side, taking in the neighborhood, as Dr. Dani pulled her car onto a side street. “What is this place?” she murmured.
