Protector’s Temptation

by Marilyn Pappano

  He picked up a beer at the bar, then settled at a table near the television mounted high on the wall. It was tuned to a baseball game, though none of the patrons appeared interested. They sat in small groups or alone, a few watching him, the rest focusing on their drinks and whatever problem had brought them in tonight.

  He didn’t want to think about his problem. He would have to face her again soon enough.

  He finished the beer and ordered another. By the time it was gone, the game was over, everyone had lost interest in him, and he was damn near cross-eyed with the need for sleep.

  He stood, his joints creaking with the tension that seemed to have settled in permanently, and walked out of the bar. A few deep breaths of night air cleared the smoke from his lungs, but didn’t do anything for his head. Tiredly, he climbed into the truck, fastened his seat belt and headed for home.

  The clock on the dashboard read 11:21 when he pulled into the driveway. The house was dark and still. He wished he’d find a note saying that Masiela had packed up and moved on, but it was more likely she’d only gone to bed. On his couch. Wearing those little shorts that were nothing more than a nod at modesty and that tight little shirt that left nothing to the imagination.

  Not that he had to imagine. He’d seen her naked before. Every inch of her. And he wasn’t likely to ever forget it, even if she had. God knew, he’d tried.

  He unlocked the door, opened it as quietly as he could and slipped inside. Call him paranoid, but he’d rather not end up staring down the barrel of her gun twice in one day. He paused a moment, heard nothing from the back of the house, then closed and locked the door and started upstairs.

  He made it to his room without any sound from downstairs, undressed and crawled into bed. But tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep, and it was Masiela’s fault. Donovan had left her in his care; he just needed to make sure everything was all right before he conked out.

  He slid out of bed, avoided the creaky floorboard and went into the hall. He didn’t bother with a light; he knew the house well enough to navigate it in pitch-black, and with the light from the moon and the street lamps filtering through the front windows, it was nowhere near that dark.

  At the top of the stairs, he moved to the right, his hand on the railing, and took the first step down. His foot hit something solid and unyielding, and he lost his balance, pitching forward headfirst. “Son of a bitch,” he gritted out, as he grabbed for something—rail, spindle, carpet—to catch himself, but momentum sent him sprawling all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

  The crash startled Masiela out of a restless sleep. Automatically, she reached for her gun, its solid weight in her hand offering some sense of security, even while her brain struggled through the fog of sleep for answers. Where was she? What had awakened her? Then she heard a low groan, not too distant, and a familiar voice.

  “Damn it, damn it, son of a—”

  Decker’s voice.

  She threw back the covers and stepped cautiously into the hall doorway. The dim light revealed a shadow sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, ghostly pale patches scattered around him. Heat flushed her face. T-shirts, socks, boxer-briefs. She’d done laundry after dinner and left the basket with his clothes at the top of the stairs.

  This was her fault.

  She turned on the hall light as he struggled into a sitting position, favoring his right arm. He scowled at the clothing around him, then picked up a pair of leopard print bikini panties. “I assume these are yours.”

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead. So unless you’ve become promiscuous along with blind and hardheaded, I assume they’re Dr. Cate’s.” She crouched in front of him. “Let me see your arm.”

  “You’re not Cate.”

  She settled back on her heels. “I don’t have to be a doctor to see it doesn’t look right.”

  He glanced down, then paled and averted his gaze. A homicide detective and practically married to an E.R. doctor, and the obvious deformity in his own wrist made him queasy. Back when they were partners, she would have teased him about it. Back when he liked her. When she hadn’t been responsible for any hurts he’d suffered.

  “You need to go to the emergency room.” Looking around the laundry, she found a pair of khaki shorts and held them out so he could slide his feet through.

  He took them with his left hand. “I can dress myself.”

  “Okay.” She returned to the kitchen, where she located a pair of jeans for herself, tucked the holstered pistol into the waistband, then stuck her feet into well-worn sneakers. When she returned to the stairs, Decker had managed to get the khakis as far as his knees. He was gritting his teeth, sweat dotting his forehead, and gripping the railing with his good hand in preparation to stand up. She hesitated. Should she offer assistance he wouldn’t want, or wait to see if he could manage on his own?

  With a bone-deep moan, he hauled himself to his feet and clung to the rail. All color was gone from his face now. He hardly seemed to notice as she pulled the shorts to his waist and fastened them.

  “Where are your keys?”

  “On the dresser. I need a shirt and shoes, too.”

  “Aw, come on. Dr. Cate’s panties are in your laundry. Surely she’s seen you without a shirt before.”

  When he glared at her, she slipped past and ran up the stairs. She dropped the keys in her pocket, found a pair of flip-flops on the closet floor and yanked both a T-shirt and a button-down shirt from their hangers. Catching sight of his wallet on the way out, she grabbed it, too, stuffing it in her hip pocket.

  He was exactly where she’d left him, holding on to the stair railing for support. A bit of color had returned to his face. Unfortunately, it was an unflattering shade of green.

  One tiny move convinced him that the T-shirt wasn’t going to work, and the best they could manage with the other shirt was to slide it onto his left arm, then drape it over the other and pull the edges together.

  He was looking pretty strained by the time he stuck out his hand. “Keys.”

  “I’m taking you.”

  “Like hell. You’re in hiding, remember?”

  “You’re in no shape to drive.”

  “My left hand works fine.”

  “But you’re right handed. And you’ve been drinking.” The smell of alcohol on his breath must have registered subconsciously; only after she’d said the words did she realize they were true. “I’ll stay in the truck. No one will have to see me. Dr. Cate won’t have to see me.”

  He swayed unsteadily, his mouth fixed in a flat line, then carefully released the railing and started toward the door.

  Masiela started to lock up, hesitated, then jogged to the dining room to retrieve her laptop case. Strap slung over her shoulder, she secured the door, followed him to the truck and helped him fasten his seat belt. Once she’d tucked the computer behind the seat, she climbed in, adjusted the seat and mirrors to accommodate her and backed out of the driveway.

  He gave her directions in terse, clipped tones, then fell silent.

  “The day I graduated from the academy, Yelina broke her wrist. Surgery, an appliance, screws, therapy—the whole thing. Our mother was off somewhere in Mexico, digging up bones, and our father was on his honeymoon with his new wife, so our grandmothers and I took care of her.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “She was fifteen, and she took it much better than you.”

  “Bite me,” he muttered.

  “Everyone thinks men are so stoic, but I bet Dr. Cate would agree that women are much better patients.”

  This time the sidelong look was his. Did he wonder why she kept bringing up his girlfriend? She didn’t want to. She’d rather forget the woman existed. It just seemed forgetting would be too easy, if she let herself—and too dangerous.

  The hospital was on a quiet street on the east side of town. The building sprawled in three directions, additions built on as the town’s needs grew, similar in appearance but not quite matching. She followed the signs to the emergency entrance, stopping
under the portico. “You want a wheelchair?”

  “My legs work fine. Park somewhere and stay out of sight.”

  Of course he meant out of everyone’s sight, but naturally he was just a little more concerned about Cate seeing her. Masiela gave him a flippant salute as he fumbled with the seatbelt. When its reel retracted, the metal buckle smacked his right arm, and he swore viciously.

  He was twisting in the seat to reach the door handle, when suddenly the door swung open.

  “AJ, I thought that was your truck. What are you doing out—” The woman standing outside looked from Decker to Masiela, then blinked. She was petite, pretty and managed to make the scrubs she wore look good.

  She wasn’t what Masiela had imagined for an exalted Calloway. Her pale brown hair was pulled straight back into a ponytail, and she wore little, if any, makeup. Her nails were short, unpolished, and the only jewelry she had on was a simple watch.

  After an awkward moment, Cate refocused on AJ and his injury. “Wow. A broken wrist. I keep telling you, you should let the professionals fix up the house. I’ve been expecting to see you in my E.R. ever since you started.” Her gaze shifted once more to Masiela. “Can you help me get him inside before you park? We’re shorthanded tonight.”

  “I don’t need help,” AJ said, the instant before Masiela agreed. She surreptitiously unclipped the holster and slid it beneath the seat before she shut off the engine and climbed out. By the time she got around the truck, AJ had slid to his feet and was looking distinctly green again.

  The doctor walked on his right side, Masiela on his left. Cate touched his arm naturally, as if she had the right. Masiela kept her hands at her sides, ready to grab if he needed the support.

  “We’ll put him in 3,” Cate told the secretary as they passed the desk. “Tell X-ray I’m sending down a right wrist in a few minutes.”

  Once they reached the small cubicle and AJ sat on the bed, Cate offered Masiela her hand. “I’m Cate Calloway.”

  Masiela eyed her hand a moment before shaking it. “I’m Luisa Gonsalves, AJ’s cousin. He probably never mentioned that his uncle Mark married into a Cuban-Mexican family, did he?”

  On the bed AJ scowled. She’d never worked undercover with him, but apparently he remembered the name she’d favored. Or maybe it was how easily she lied that annoyed him. Or her making herself a member of his family.

  “No, he didn’t mention it.” Cate looked her over, making Masiela wish she’d pulled a shirt on over the thin tank top she’d been sleeping in. “Do you live around here?”

  “South Florida,” Masiela said breezily. “Visiting family on my way to Atlanta.”

  The sound that came from AJ sounded suspiciously like a growl. “Hey, remember me? Can you do something about my arm?”

  Cate rolled her gaze upward. “Men. They’re such babies.”

  “I’ll move the truck out of the entrance.” Masiela lifted the curtain that closed off the cubicle and ducked out. The secretary watched curiously as she passed the desk, as did an older man reading in the waiting room.

  Masiela drove the truck to the nearest parking space, then secured her weapon in the glove compartment. Decker would be happier if she waited outside, but now that Cate had seen her, what was the harm in going back in? It wasn’t as if the secretary or the white-haired man could possibly recognize her. They’d noticed her only because she was a stranger, and they would forget her a few seconds after she left.

  Taking deep breaths of fresh night air, she crossed the parking lot and returned inside. After just a few days of hiding, it felt so wonderful to be moving about again. She wasn’t made for extended protective custody. Driving a vehicle, walking by herself, even if it was just a few hundred feet, she felt so free.

  And safe. No way her enemies would connect her to Copper Lake.

  She strode past the desk and back into Room 3 before stopping abruptly. The bed was empty, Decker was gone, and Cate stood at the counter, making notes in a file. Okay, so there was the harm in coming back inside. Time alone with Decker’s girlfriend. Meeting her had been one thing. Chatting with her…

  “Is AJ in X-ray?”

  Cate slipped the ink pen into the pocket of her lab coat, then faced her. “Yeah. It’s definitely broken. Maybe dislocated a bit. But we can take care of that. Are you staying with him?”

  Who was asking? Care-giving doctor or suspicious girlfriend? Masiela smiled. “Either that or drive back to Aunt Carol Ann’s.”

  Cate studied her a moment before nodding once, as if something she’d seen satisfied her. In a good way or bad? Masiela wondered.

  “It’d be best for AJ if someone’s at the house. He’s going to have a little trouble managing things for a few days. I’m sure Carol Ann will be over to check on him once she hears, but I’m also sure he won’t tell her tonight. How did he fall?”

  Had she already asked that question of Decker? Was she comparing stories? “I don’t know. I was in the kitchen, getting a beer, and he’d gone to check on something. Next thing I heard was a crash, followed by a string of curses, and I found him stretched out on the floor.” There, that was simple enough. Some truth, without too many details to trip on.

  “He does like to swear when he’s upset,” Cate said, with a faint smile.

  “He started young, and his mother was never able to break him of the habit.”

  “There are worse habits to pick up.” Cate shifted one hip against the counter. “What do you think of the house?”

  “It’s great.” Masiela hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Did you help him pick it out?”

  “No. First I heard of it, he’d already signed the papers.”

  Odd. He was considering marrying the woman, and he didn’t discuss the purchase of a house with her until it was a done deal?

  “The place isn’t set up yet for guests,” Cate went on. “Though I guess family—” she gave Masiela another long look “—don’t really count as guests, do they? And the sofa bed is comfortable enough.”

  “I’m a sound sleeper. It doesn’t matter much where I lie down, just that I do.” Discomfort itched along Masiela’s spine. Cate was…doubting her? Testing her? Or just letting her know that she had a claim on Decker?

  Before the doctor could respond, the curtain swished open and a young man pushed a wheelchair into the cubicle. Decker, flushed and sweaty, moved carefully from the chair to the bed, leaned back and closed his eyes.

  A bit of sympathy rose inside Masiela. She hadn’t been entirely truthful when talking about Yelina’s broken wrist. Her sister had passed out while the X-rays were being taken. Maneuvering broken bones into awkward positions had been more than she could bear.

  Cate excused herself to go look at the X-rays, and Decker opened his eyes just enough to glare at Masiela. “Cousin?”

  Moving closer to the bed, she smiled and softly asked, “Would you prefer that I’d said ex-partner? Ex-friend? One-night stand?”

  The last words surprised her. They surprised him, too—and not, judging from his scowl, in a pleasant way.

  Gratitude flushed through her when Cate returned, holding the curtain back in invitation. “Do you mind stepping out, Luisa? We’re going to sedate him, reduce this fracture and get him into a splint.”

  “Sedation,” Masiela repeated as she moved toward the door. “Your little cousin Yelina didn’t need sedation when they reduced her fracture.” Smiling wickedly, she ducked around the curtain and out of sight.

  Chapter 7

  AJ was groggy when he awoke. For one good moment, he thought he’d fallen asleep in his own bed with the lights and television still on. Then he moved, and his memory cleared fast. Going downstairs in the dark to check on Masiela. Tripping over the damn laundry basket she’d left at the top of the stairs. Falling. Breaking his wrist. Cate pulling open the door of his truck, looking from him to Masiela and back again.

  His right arm was encased in a splint that extended past his elbow, and it hurt like the devil. It wasn’t the only pa
in, either. There was a throb in his left shoulder, another in his right knee and a steady pounding in his skull. Tumbling down a flight of stairs wasn’t easy on the body.

  “Hey.”

  A soft hand touched him, and he opened his eyes to find Cate beside the bed. She looked more tired than she had when they’d come in, and there was something in her eyes.

  “As soon as you feel like getting up, you can go home.”

  Just the thought of moving sent aches from head to toe. Still, he managed a nod.

  “I’ve given Luisa the follow-up instructions and a prescription for pain medicine. You’ve got a 9:00 a.m. appointment with Dr. Stafford tomorrow. He’ll x-ray you, probably put you in a cast.”

  He nodded again. Stafford was an orthopedic surgeon, based in Augusta, who saw patients a couple days a week in Copper Lake.

  “Keep your arm elevated, ice it for fifteen to twenty minutes three or four times a day and avoid anything that causes discomfort.” She started to turn away, then stopped. “She’s not your cousin, is she?”

  His stomach knotted. How easy would it be to lie? Just like Masiela, he’d had plenty of occasions on the job where lying wasn’t just advisable but required. He could do it and do it well. But that was work. He tried not to carry it over into his personal life. “No. But I can explain.”

  Her smile was slight. “I don’t need an explanation.” Then she slid her fingers down his arm to clasp his left hand. “Actually, just meeting her explains a lot.”

  Made wary by her tone, he cautiously asked, “Like what?”

  “Like why you go through the motions without feeling the right feelings. You think I haven’t known for a while that you’re not as, um, engaged in this relationship as I am?” Another faint smile at the play on words. “I’ve always suspected that there was someone in your past. Someone you weren’t quite over. But as long as she stayed in the past, I didn’t have to acknowledge her.”