The Rookie

by Julie Miller

  He felt like a chided schoolboy or rookie cop, though his blood was still pounding through his veins like a man who was her equal. He’d accomplished his goal. He’d seen her safely home, and now he would respect her wishes and leave.

  She opened the door and disappeared inside without another word. Josh shoved his hands deep inside his pockets. He was too embarrassed to admit how many women had made a play for him. Even the girl Kevin Washburn had introduced him to that afternoon had offered to sell herself as well as the methamphetamine if he was interested in buying. He wasn’t.

  The one woman who tore him up inside seemed to be the one woman who wouldn’t have a thing to do with him.

  That was some sort of crazy justice for being a flirt all his life, he supposed.

  Josh turned and headed for the stairs. When he talked to A.J. tonight, he’d ask him to post that tail on Rachel. There was just no way he could keep her safe without winding up getting hurt.

  And a blow with a tire iron wasn’t nearly as painful as what he suspected lay ahead of him if he continued his involvement with Rachel—

  The scream from Rachel’s condo turned his blood to ice.

  “Doc!”

  Josh flew down the hall. He shoved open the door and slammed into Rachel. He would have sent her flying if he hadn’t cinched his arms around her and pulled her close.

  “Josh?” She’d been running toward the door herself. “Oh, Josh.” She clutched up handfuls of his jacket, buried her face in the leather and sobbed.

  “Shh, Doc,” he soothed her with a hushed voice. He held her tight with one arm, automatically reaching for the gun at his side, silently cursing the universe when he remembered it wasn’t there. Her heart pounded ninety miles a minute against his chest. She was shaking in his hold, murmuring something unintelligible against his chest. Enough. “I’ve got you. C’mon.”

  He cupped the back of her head, pulling her with him, backing out of the condo, away from whatever had terrified her.

  “I want you to wait out here.” He propped her against the wall in the hallway, stroking a fall of hair from her face as he hunkered down to look her in the eye. “I’m going back in to check things out, make sure everything’s okay.”

  Though shiny with tears, those emerald eyes were bright and focused. “I’m going with you.”

  Josh straightened, intending to argue the point. But then he realized she meant to go back in herself, with or without him. “All right.”

  He clutched her hand where she linked it around his forearm, and they went back inside. He scanned everything. The lock looked clean. The condo itself looked spotless, just as neat and tidy as it had the night before. The curtains hung straight, indicating the windows were closed.

  Her fingers bit into his arm as she squeezed. “In the baby’s room.”

  A feeling of darkness and foreboding pooled in his stomach. He angled Rachel slightly behind his shoulder and peeked inside the small bedroom.

  Josh swore, a vicious, damning curse that couldn’t quite convey the sense of anger and violation that swept through him. Rachel turned away, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other holding her rounded stomach.

  He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze then moved in closer to examine the hideous gift that had been left for her.

  All the stuffed animals that had been stored in the baby’s crib had been shredded and tossed about. And hanging from the flowered light fixture in the center of the room was a stuffed rabbit, its head nearly pinched off by the noose tied around its neck. The pink fur on its belly had been slit open and filled with some kind of red liquid that resembled blood. A note was tacked to its foot with a diaper pin.

  You failed the test.

  I’ll be waiting for you in the delivery room.

  One way or another, I want what’s mine.

  Daddy.

  Josh didn’t bother swearing this time. He wrapped his arm around Rachel’s waist and guided her out to the kitchen. Beyond the line of sight of that ugly, twisted message. He sat her in a chair and poured her a glass of water. Then he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a familiar number.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked.

  “A cop.”

  “But…what about—?”

  Not that marijuana thing again. He cut off her protest. “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

  He knelt down beside her and pressed a kiss to her temple. She willingly leaned her head against his shoulder when he pulled her close.

  Undercover or not, he was going to make the bastard pay for threatening Rachel.

  He waited impatiently for the phone to pick up. He’d skipped A.J. this time and gone directly to the cop he needed most right now.

  One more ring and a familiar, gravelly voice identified the speaker. “Detective Taylor.”

  “Mac? It’s Josh. It’s time for you to repay a favor.”

  RACHEL STOOD OFF TO ONE SIDE and watched forensic expert Mac Taylor from the Kansas City Police Department turn her little girl’s nursery into a science lab. He’d pulled all manner of tools from his aluminum suitcase. A camera. Giant tweezers. A magnifying glass. Some sort of infrared scope. Plastic evidence bags.

  He wore gold-framed glasses that didn’t quite mask the fact that he was sightless in his left eye. But she had the feeling as she watched him work that his good eye missed nothing. No detail, no possibility went unexplored. She somehow found his scientific precision very comforting. If there was a clue to be found that would lead them to Daddy, Detective Taylor would find it.

  What she found more oddly unsettling was the way he kept seeking out Josh and asking questions. About the crime scene, certainly. He’d asked her the very same things. How long were you gone from the condo? Were the doors and windows locked when you arrived? Does anyone have a reason to threaten you this way?

  But the two men had inspected her condo together, going from room to room and chatting about things sotto voce. She only caught snatches of words and phrases—something about a “case,” the name “Jules”—and she swore she heard, “Ma doesn’t need to know.”

  Why would Josh be friends with a cop?

  Curious.

  She thought she detected some similarities between Josh and Detective Taylor. But Mac Taylor had too many scars on his face to verify a physical resemblance. He had gray eyes as opposed to Josh’s blue ones, yet they both had burnished highlights in their hair. Their body builds were different—Mac’s, tall and lanky, Josh’s, big and broad. But their demeanors were similar. They both carried themselves in a deceptively casual way. Josh’s sense of humor hid a fiercely protective nature, she knew. And she guessed Mac’s quiet manner hid a perceptive intellect.

  She wasn’t quite sure what her speculations meant. But she was trained to be an observer of people, after all. She’d figure it out sooner or later. Besides, she’d go out of her mind if she didn’t do something more than just stay out of their way, brew tea and wait.

  She could have handled the police by herself, she supposed. She could have called a friend like Curt to stay with her, or even Dean Jeffers. But she’d asked Josh to stay. Common sense had given way to the very human need to feel safe. And the only place she’d felt safe lately was with him.

  It made no sense to her, really, this “connection,” as Josh had described it, that the two of them shared. His kiss had been like nothing else she’d ever experienced. It had been the purest form of passion, an elemental meeting of bodies and souls. Physically, he’d made her feel things she hadn’t in years, things she’d never expected to feel again.

  Emotionally…?

  Rachel sighed and sipped her tepid tea. She wasn’t ready to explore what had happened to her needy heart during that kiss. His grasping hands and seductive mouth had done far more than feed her ego and make her feel attractive, and even sexy. His determination to bind them together in that way had nourished her parched woman’s soul. For those brief, mindless moments, it hadn’t mattered that he was the wrong man for her—that
she was the wrong woman for him. All that had mattered then was that it felt right.

  Thankfully, reality had intruded, reminding her that her growing feelings for Josh weren’t appropriate.

  Teacher, student.

  Older woman, younger man.

  Set in her ways mother-to-be, bachelor with his whole life ahead of him.

  Josh looked up from where he and Mac kneeled together over some marking on the carpet. It was as if he knew her doubts were creeping back in, ready to destroy the tenuous bond they’d created tonight. But when he smiled at her, she couldn’t help but smile back. There was something endearingly boyish in that smile, something that begged her to give him a chance.

  And for tonight, at any rate, she was feeling too exposed and vulnerable to deny him that chance.

  “Well, it doesn’t look like anything’s been tampered with outside of the baby’s room.” Mac pushed to his feet, raising his voice loud enough to include her in the conversation.

  Rachel nodded, debating whether she found that reassuring or not. The intruder hadn’t violated her in any other way, but it shook her down to her core to sense all that hatred directed specifically at her child. “Thank you for cleaning up the nursery.”

  “Not a problem.” Mac put on his coat and pulled a business card from the inside pocket. “Here. Call me if you find anything else that seems out of order. Or just if you have any questions.”

  She took the card and tucked it inside her purse on the coffee table. “I will.”

  Mac picked up his case. “I’ve bagged everything and taken the pictures I need. I’ll have the lab run the items for further analysis and call you if I find out anything.”

  “Please do.” She encouraged his quest for answers. Josh followed behind her as she escorted Mac to the door. “Maybe there will be something there that will give me enough evidence to get a court order for Dr. Washburn to open up his files and tell me who the father is.”

  Mac’s hesitation put her on guard. “You don’t think that’s possible?”

  “I don’t think it’s probable,” Mac said.

  Josh spoke over her shoulder. “You don’t think the threat to Rachel is real?”

  Mac shook his head and clarified his suspicions. “I don’t think this looks like the work of an anonymous donor who’s suddenly decided eight months later he wants his kid.” He dropped his gaze to Rachel, his sighted eye filled with a grim truth. “I think this is the work of someone who knows you personally. I think he or she could care less about the baby. Their main interest is attacking you where it will hurt the most. Somebody is trying to punish you for something.”

  It had felt personal enough. From the very first message she’d found on her car.

  She felt herself swaying, her mind and body exhausted by stress. But then she felt Josh’s hands at her shoulders, sharing a dose of his strength and support. “That’s just a theory, right, Detective?”

  “Right. Dr. Livesay. Mr. Tanner.” Mac turned the doorknob and opened the door. But the doorknob itself seemed to remind him of something. He shrugged an apology as he faced them again. “Look. There’s no sign of forced entry at the window or the door. Whoever came in here has a key. Whether you gave one to someone you thought you could trust, or—”

  Rachel shook her head. “I’m the only one with a key.”

  “Then, someone had the opportunity to make a copy.” His friendly warning seemed to encompass both Rachel and Josh. “That tells me it’s someone you’re close to. Someone with whom you come into regular contact. I’d suggest varying your schedule. And I’d have the locks changed as soon as you can.”

  Meaning Daddy wouldn’t hesitate to come back to terrorize her again.

  “I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning,” she promised.

  “Will you be safe tonight?” Mac asked.

  Josh’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “She’ll be safe.”

  Her response to his resolute promise was a thrill that cascaded down her spine and trickled out to the tips of every appendage, exciting her and frightening her at the same time. It would be too easy to give in to his strength. She needed to find a way to deal with this on her own. She wouldn’t put Josh in danger. She wouldn’t set herself up for the heartache the morning light would bring, when Josh had to leave her and she was on her own once more.

  So she pulled away from his possessive, protective touch and shook hands with Mac Taylor. “Good night.”

  “’Night, ma’am.”

  She closed the door behind him and set the dead bolt, even though she now knew the one person she wanted to keep out could easily find his way in.

  Ma’am. Rachel almost laughed at the reminder that she could never have a real relationship with Josh. She turned around to thank him for giving up his night for her, intending to send him on his way, as well, but he had disappeared.

  “Josh?” He strode out of the kitchen, carrying one of the padded oak chairs she used at the table. “What are you doing?”

  He set the chair on the floor next to her, tilted it back and wedged it beneath the doorknob. “I’m adding another lock to the door.”

  “But you need to be on the other side of the door when I do that.”

  He stood, straight and tall. “I’m not arguing with you on this. I’ll keep my distance, if that’s what you want. I’ll make sure nothing else personal happens that’ll upset you. But I’m staying.”

  To emphasize his decision, he proceeded to untuck the flannel shirt he wore from his jeans. He unbuttoned the shirt and stripped down to a plain white T-shirt that molded itself to the powerful contours of his upper body. He folded the plaid flannel into a bundle as he crossed to her floral chintz sofa. Then he moved all the throw pillows to the matching love seat and set the shirt on the arm of the couch.

  Then he unhooked his belt. When he sat down and began untying his boots, she knew she was in trouble.

  Half fascinated by the fact he was undressing in her living room, it took her a moment to make her feet move toward the linen closet. “Wait. At least let me get you a blanket and a bed pillow.”

  “If you insist, Doc—”

  A boot thumped on the floor behind her and she turned. She could tell by Josh’s smile that she’d been suckered into this one.

  “I’d be happy to stay.”

  RACHEL ROLLED OVER in bed and looked at the glow-in-the-dark numbers on her alarm clock. 1:46.

  She’d been trying to fall asleep for nearly two hours.

  “Damn.”

  Maybe she couldn’t sleep because she was too hot. She tried to kick off her covers, but they’d gotten twisted into a knot between her legs from all her tossing and turning.

  “Double damn.”

  She rolled onto her side to push herself into a sitting position, then reached down to untangle her legs from the covers. She fluffed the sheet and two blankets, folded them neatly at the foot of her bed and lay down again.

  She stared up at the ceiling, noting how the night-light from her bathroom cast a glow on the cobweb that had gathered between the light and ceiling fan. She hadn’t been able to climb up and dust it this past month.

  Could she use a triple damn?

  Rachel rolled onto her side and wrapped her arms around the long body pillow she’d bought to help support her stomach and back. She knew the real reason why she couldn’t sleep. Because of those nightmares that had haunted her dreams last night. Daddy had come too close to making those nightmares come true. He’d been in her home. He’d been in her baby’s things.

  Someone she knew. Maybe even someone she trusted had been here. Why would someone want to torture her like this? Why would someone want to taint what should be the most precious time of her life?

  Rachel punched the pillow and sat up again. She’d already been to the bathroom twice. Maybe she needed a little snack, a small cup of cereal, perhaps. The milk would make her sleepy and the cereal would prevent that early-morning hunger. Cereal. That was the ticket.


  She swung her legs off the bed and stepped into her slippers. She pulled her pink flannel robe over her cotton-knit pajamas and tiptoed out toward the kitchen.

  “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”

  Josh’s voice, as dark as the moonless night outside, didn’t even startle her.

  Maybe she hadn’t come out here for cereal, after all.

  She heard a click and held her breath as the lamp on the end table came on. Josh had turned it on to its lowest intensity, and the dim circle of light cast a muted glow over his naked shoulders and chest.

  He was so broad. So strong. A thatch of golden curls clung to the bulges and hollows of his magnificent chest. Just looking at him, sprawled across her sofa, his blue eyes hooded, made her blood race a little faster in her veins. Made her stomach do little flip-flops that had nothing to do with the baby or hunger.

  His smile crooked with a gentle humor that warmed her clear across the room that separated them. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

  When he sat up, her breath whooshed out in a gasp. The light hit lower on his body now, revealing jeans that were unsnapped at the waist—and the horrific bruise that covered his left flank.

  “Josh.” She dashed to his side for a closer look. The color was less intense, but the size of the bruise had grown as the blood from the injured tissue rose to the surface. She reached out, but didn’t touch. Her fingertips hovered close enough to feel the heat off his skin, but she couldn’t bear the thought of touching it and causing him more pain.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he joked, clearly trying to alleviate her concern.

  “You lie,” she accused, sitting on the coffee table across from him. They were facing each other just as they had last night.

  He cupped her jaw with his hands and angled her face to look at his. “I’m okay. Don’t let worries about me keep you up.”

  “I thought you went to the hospital yesterday morning.” Her hands needed a place to go, and it seemed only natural that they should end up resting on his knees.