Rob snarled and took a step forward to crowd them. “You can take your questions and shove ’em!”
“How about one more?” Zach cocked an eyebrow, wordless indication he wasn’t intimidated.
Rob gave them the bird and turned to his open pickup door.
“Why is it your mother didn’t want to talk about you?” Zach said to his back. “Why doesn’t she have any proud pictures of you on that mantel along with the ones of your sister and her family?”
Greaver stopped, his back and shoulders rigid. Bran braced himself, but the guy kept going. He got in his truck, slammed the door and fired up the engine. A moment later, he backed out without so much as checking his mirrors to make sure he didn’t run one of the Murphy boys down. He never looked at them again as he drove away.
Zach scratched his chin. “Interesting.”
Bran grunted.
Zach waited until they were both seat belted in before he raised his brows and said, “You can’t watch her 24/7, you know.”
“You took your eyes off Tess, and look what happened.” Bran felt like a shit the minute the words were out, even before he saw his brother’s expression close. Zach and Tess had had some kind of fight—neither had ever admitted what it had been about—and she told Zach to get lost. That was the night Deputy Andy Hayes decided to get rid of the more vulnerable of the two witnesses to a crime he had committed. Zach barely came to his senses and returned to her house in time to save her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you were right.” Tone flat, Zach backed the pickup out of the slot and aimed them toward the street. “You should have left this to me today.”
Bran squeezed the back of his neck. “No. I’m...on edge.”
“Scared shitless, you mean.”
After a minute, he pushed a single word past a constricted throat. “Yeah.”
“Then don’t worry about it,” his brother said, his glance friendlier than Bran deserved.
Lina was smart and careful. So was Tess. And...Bran found a sense of urgency driving his outrage. This mattered. With Dad gone, he wanted to see Sheila’s killer pay.
This was where Bran had needed to be.
* * *
LINA CAME SCREAMING out of a nightmare. She was trying frantically to scramble out of bed when Bran’s hard arm caught her.
“Where are you going?”
She strained against his grip, quivering with a desperate need to escape, before the peaceful darkness of the bedroom and his presence became real. She heard herself whimper as the hideous images receded.
“Come here, honey.” Bran pulled her back, helping her turn to rest her head on his shoulder. Then he began kneading her neck and shoulder while holding her close. “Bad one?”
“I keep seeing it—” She shuddered. “I don’t want to!”
“I know,” he murmured. “It’ll fade with time, I promise. It’s...hard when you’ve never seen anything like that before.”
She absorbed that, then tilted her head even though she could barely make out his face in the minimal light seeping through the slats in the blinds. “Have you?”
“It’s different for me.”
She waited, but that was it. God forbid he admit his ironclad control had ever been shaken.
Chilled by his silence, she rolled away to face the wall.
After a long pause, he started talking. “The first time was a suicide.” His voice came out so scratchy, he cleared his throat. “Happened right in front of me. I was begging him not to do it when he pulled the trigger. I’ve never forgotten.” He paused. “This was worse for you.”
Lina turned over and fit herself beneath his arm again, head on his shoulder. “Because we were friends.”
“Right.”
“I wish...” She stopped.
He waited, displaying the patience she suspected was another technique used in interviews.
Of course it worked. “Oh,” she mumbled, “that Maya was being buried here. So I could go.”
“Her body is being released tomorrow.”
“I know. Her...her mother called to tell me.”
“Have you ever met the parents?”
“Yes, they came for a visit last summer. Um, not long after we—”
He let that go. “I don’t remember where they live.”
“Reno. And I know it’s not that far. She’d like me to come. She said Maya talked about me a lot. I could get time off to go...”
His stillness this time had nothing to do with patience. It was resistance. But even though she gave him time to open his big mouth, he didn’t. The restraint must be all but killing him.
Lina sighed. “I know it’s not safe. You don’t have to tell me.”
“You said you didn’t want to fly because of your pregnancy, either.”
She made a face he wouldn’t be able to see. “It’s perfectly fine for pregnant women to fly, you know. What I told my parents at Christmas was an excuse.”
“I figured that.” His tension didn’t ease. “I hate funerals.”
Curiosity piqued, she tried to make out his face again. “Have you been to so many?”
“Sometimes for the job.”
“Oh. You really do go to the funeral after someone’s murdered?”
“You mean to catch the killer red-handed?” There might have been a hint of amusement in his voice this time. “Hasn’t worked that way for me.” He paused before adding, “I go for the families. I...get to know them.”
The halting admission caused her eyes to burn from unshed tears. Rubbing her cheek over hard muscle, she wondered how he could be so compassionate and sensitive in so many ways, yet so resistant to acknowledging his own deeper emotions. Of course, she thought with renewed depression, it was also possible he couldn’t acknowledge what wasn’t there.
He’d admitted to getting engaged once to a woman he didn’t love because she fulfilled some criteria he hadn’t shared with Lina. He claimed Lina was different, but couldn’t or wouldn’t describe what he felt for her. It was entirely possible the only thing different about her was his powerful sense of responsibility. He needed to protect her because she was a witness to murder. He needed to take care of her because she carried his baby. Did love even register with him, compared to imperatives far more basic?
He abruptly flipped onto his side to face her, shifting her head to rest on his biceps. “What are you thinking?
“That you’re a good man,” she said honestly. The rest...she couldn’t tell him.
Bran rubbed his cheek against her head, snagging strands of hair on his bristles.
“Ouch,” she complained, without much force.
“You’re thoroughly awake now.”
At the husky note in his voice, she slid her hand upward over the bunched muscles in his back and his strong neck until she could curl her fingers into his hair. “So I am.” Surprised she could sound sultry, she pushed herself up onto her elbow so she could nuzzle his neck. “Want to talk some more?”
“Not what I was thinking.” He grasped her hips and lifted her to straddle him, startling a squeak from her before she laughed.
She wriggled, loving his powerful response. He reared up to kiss her, which signaled the end of the conversation.
* * *
“ARE YOU GOING to let me drive myself today?” Lina asked as she poured boiling water over her herbal tea bag.
Bran, the rat, was leaning back against the counter, sipping his first cup of what smelled like strong coffee. “Nope.”
She frowned at him. “You can’t keep taking the time—”
“I can.” He shook his head when she opened her mouth to argue. “Even if I thought the drive was safe, the walk across the parking lot isn’t.”
That, she knew,
was that. And...she had to admit the memory of falling between cars outside the high school was still more vivid than she liked. It would take a lot longer than a couple weeks to fade. Thinking about how defenseless she’d been...she shivered.
His gaze sharpened. “You haven’t said how it went, being back at work.”
“I’d have been happier if I hadn’t become famous.” She busied herself slicing a bagel and popping it in the toaster. “It’s all anyone wants to talk about. The teachers and staff are bad enough. The kids are worse. When I said we needed to focus on our material, Jamie Peters told me I am current events now.”
Bran’s mouth twisted. “He’s right. But you know damn well what they really want to hear about is the bloodshed. Little ghouls.”
“Little? A couple of the more annoying teachers have this avid glitter in their eyes every time they see me. It gives me the creeps.”
Voice flinty, he said, “Tell them all you’re part of an ongoing police investigation, and you’ve been asked not to discuss anything. That ought to hold them off.”
“That’s sort of what I’ve said, but your way is better.” Lina set the tub of margarine on the counter and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and letting herself lean. Even with her belly forming a hard lump between them, it felt so good.
She heard the clink as he set his mug down, before his arms closed securely around her. “My way is always better,” he murmured.
Lina was able to straighten with a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Your bagel popped up,” he said helpfully.
“And I would never have noticed.”
There was that rusty laugh again, a sound she could hug to herself all day, the memory as good as one of those bean-filled bags you heated to relax sore muscles.
But...did she have any sore muscles?
Of course I do, she thought in bemusement as she put jam on her half of the bagel. The heart was a muscle, wasn’t it? Hers seemed to ache constantly these days. Because of the baby, Maya, Bran. The fear she was having to live under, and the threat to her unborn child.
As an automatic addendum, she started to add her ex-husband and his new wife to the list, but stopped. Was there even the slightest twinge? No. And she knew why. David had been thoroughly supplanted by the man who had just playfully snatched half her bagel and was slathering it with peanut butter, which as far as she was concerned ruined it. Lina couldn’t summon even a smidgen of regret about her divorce.
The idea that Bran could both hurt her and heal her was odd, but she thought, true.
“Do you have plans today?” she asked.
“Agent Novinski has assigned me the task of showing your drawing to the teller who hasn’t seen it yet.”
“I thought they all had,” she said in surprise.
“This one is young and had fallen apart. Novinski and her partner interviewed her the day after the robbery, then gave her permission to go home to Walla Walla. Tomorrow is her first day back to work. Her supervisor isn’t so sure she’ll be able to handle it.”
“Being in the bank had to be terrifying.” The huddled employees would have heard the gunshot that had been silent to her. Suddenly feeling cold, Lina said, “I wonder if any of them turned around after...after Maya was shot.”
“So far, they all say they didn’t.” Bran nodded to the half bagel that still sat on the plate. “Eat.”
She had lost her appetite, but nodded and picked it up. She couldn’t afford to end up starved midmorning. Between bites, she said, “I can’t believe the bank reopened so quickly.”
“What were they going to do, tell people they couldn’t sign loan papers that had already been prepared or cash in a CD?” He hesitated. “The FBI evidence team pulled out the carpet behind the teller counter the day after the robbery. The bank had new carpet installed over the weekend. They painted, too.”
When she shuddered, he made a gruff sound and tugged her toward him again. “Damn, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, I was wondering. I’d rather know.”
“Okay,” he murmured against her temple, his warm breath stirring her hair.
After a minute, she thanked him and made herself straighten. While she finished the bagel, Bran disappeared to the bedroom, wearing his holstered weapon and badge on his belt when he returned. As if it was part of dressing for the job, his expression had become guarded, too. He was all cop now.
“Have you ever lived with anyone before?” she blurted. She’d been itching to know, but her timing sucked. “I mean, a woman?”
His eyebrows twitched. “No.” More cautiously, he said, “I’ve had women spend the night, if that’s what you mean. Does it matter?”
“No, I was just thinking how nice this is. You know. Talking about our day.”
The ghost of some emotion crossed his face. “I’ve been telling you more than I probably should about this particular investigation only because of your involvement. Most of the time, I won’t be able to talk about open cases.”
“I understand.” She hoped she could deal with it. Lina dropped a couple of energy bars into her purse before saying, “I just meant, in general.”
“Guess that’s a benefit of marriage.” His voice had become utterly expressionless. “One you must have missed.”
Scrutinizing him, she grappled with the possibility that he was jealous.
“If so, I’ve missed it for a long time,” she told him frankly. “I can’t remember when David and I really talked in the morning.” Or any other time? And she’d been stupid enough not to notice.
Bran held out her parka and helped her into it.
With a sigh, she said, “Probably I was always the one doing the prattling. This morning, too,” she added ruefully, stepping out into the hall and waiting while he verified the door was locked. “You’re just being nice.”
He swung to face her. “No.”
Her echoed “No?” was barely more than a whisper.
His fierce blue eyes held hers. “I like it when you talk to me. Don’t stop.” Then he took her arm and started her forward. “We’re going to be late.”
The drive was mostly quiet, his attention on the traffic and their surroundings. They were behind enough to arrive during the rush he liked to avoid. The parking lot was rapidly filling with employees’ vehicles, along with those of parents who had some reason to deliver their kids personally. The first school bus was just pulling up in the bus lane; in minutes, kids would be straggling off it with their usual, crack-of-dawn lack of enthusiasm.
Bran pulled up right in front of the main entrance despite the red-painted curb, left his car in neutral and walked her to the doors, keeping his body between her and the crowded parking lot. She knew he saw, evaluated and dismissed every single person streaming in as well as the cars arriving.
Bran’s long arm reached past her to open one of the two glass doors. She turned to issue her usual polite, “Thank you.” This time, she didn’t have a chance. Bran bent his head, murmured, “Three o’clock,” and kissed her cheek, throwing in a tiny nuzzle at the end.
He issued the same, crisp reminder every day.
The kiss was new.
Barbara Ervin, one of the science teachers, caught her eye and grinned. Given the audience, by lunchtime half the teachers would have heard she had something going with a detective. Everyone would be in the know by the end of the day, and speculation about whether he might be the father of her baby was bound to be rife, too.
Despite her discomfiture, Lina couldn’t resist stopping just inside to watch Bran walk back to his car with his long, purposeful stride. She wondered if he even noticed the way people steered out of his way so he never had to deviate from his path, or whether he took it for granted.
On a sudden thought, her eyes narrowed and h
er temper sparked. Would he have been calculating enough to have kissed her when and where he did to start talk? As in, thinking a public claiming would push her a little closer to giving in and agreeing to marry him?
But, exasperated or not, she also remembered fleeting expressions on his face this morning. She’d already known she was pushing him out of his comfort zone. It was obvious he didn’t know if he liked it or not.
Because she had the power to both heal and hurt him, too? Was that possible?
His car pulled away from the curb, and she turned to head for her classroom. Why was it that hope felt so delicate?
CHAPTER TWELVE
BRAN SETTLED THE young teller in a comfortable chair in front of a currently unoccupied desk in the bank proper rather than in the small break room. Not, he hoped belatedly, Maya Lee’s. Here they were out of earshot of any other employees, while the meeting felt casual rather than official.
Makayla Lander was a pretty little thing, a redhead with freckles and chocolate-brown eyes. If he’d seen her in the grocery store, he’d have guessed she was about sixteen, but assumed she had to be older than that. Surely the bank didn’t hire anyone without at least a high school diploma.
“I stayed only ’cuz I had to talk to you.” She pouted, as if he’d been mean to her, when he’d done his damnedest to be kind and soft-spoken thus far. “I can’t come back to work.” Her voice shook. “I told Mrs. Chainey as soon as I got here. I feel bad not giving notice, but...I just can’t.”
“What will you do?” Bran asked, with the goal of making her want to be helpful.
“I’m moving home again. I only came here because of a guy I’m not seeing anymore. So I don’t have any reason to stay.”
“A piece of advice, Ms. Lander,” he said calmly, feeling like a parent determined to speak common sense even knowing it would go in one ear and out the other. “The trauma you feel can’t be left behind. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be packing it and taking it with you. You’re feeling pretty shaken up. I’d recommend you see a counselor in Walla Walla.”
Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set Page 17
