Wanting You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  The older man shifted by an inch and slowly got to his feet. “S’okay. Just wish I could be of more help. Wish I coulda helped those girls more too.” Looking down for the handle of his oxygen tank, he mumbled, “Pretty red hair.”

  “You helped a great deal,” Evie insisted. “And mostly, you cared.”

  He eyed her curiously, but it was Rowan who explained.

  “You kept working Felicity’s case long after you retired,” he said. “I hope I’m that diligent when I go out.”

  Evie nodded. “Plus you were professional enough to admit there might have been something you overlooked.”

  Smith’s brow furrowed. “Hate to think somebody else stumbled over something so obvious all these years later.” He actually sounded angry. With himself, undoubtedly. “You’ll keep in touch, right? I’ll want to hear where this goes.”

  Evie nodded as Rowan put a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “Thanks for your service, Detective,” he murmured. “I hope to live up to your example someday.”

  Out of his pocket came a yellowed handkerchief. Phil Smith blew his nose in it and wiped some sudden moisture out of his eyes, and then bid them goodbye.

  Evie and Rowan walked out toward the car, and as they did, she thought about what Rowan had said. She knew he was a good cop—brave, smart, and hard-working. But she also knew he was single, lived alone, and didn’t appear to have ever had a wife, certainly no children.

  Her heart twisted. She thought about Smith’s life, and about Rowan’s future.

  God, she did not want him turning out like the other man. Lonely, old before his time, in pain, with nothing but the memories of his work on the force to keep him company.

  Being a police officer wasn’t easy work. Not on the body, on the mind, on the spirit. Not on spouses and on families. Smith was not a very unique example of a “lifer” as police retirees sometimes called themselves.

  She couldn’t stand the thought that Rowan Winchester—a sexy, friendly, thoughtful, funny, and protective man—might someday join that rank. He was far too good to spend his life alone with only his job to think about. Of course, he had his brothers, to whom he seemed close. He’d fondly mentioned his father and his aunt. And he had his persnickety cat.

  But love? Did he have that? Did he even want it?

  She suspected he did. He was too warm to want to be alone forever.

  Which made her wonder what kind of person would be the one who gave him that life? Who would welcome him home at night with open arms and a bright smile? How many kids would be bounced on those broad shoulders? What lucky woman would share the anniversaries, the holidays…and the sultry nights in his hot bed?

  You’re being ridiculous.

  Of course she was. She hadn’t even known the man a week yet; he’d done nothing more than kiss her. So his future long nights of sex, not to mention the rest of the crazy-curious questions, were no business of hers.

  Still…she couldn’t stop wondering.

  * * *

  It had been a hell of a day. Not one to waste any time, Evie had set up meeting after meeting with the lead detectives who’d worked those twelve murders that had caught her eye. From Smith’s house, they’d gone to a division in Anaheim, to a mall in Laguna where one worked part-time as a security guard. Back to another station, then a retirement home.

  In nearly every case, the detective remembered that particular victim. All commented on the brutality of the crimes, the location—in the victim’s own home. The age, the vulnerability, the lack of any physical evidence whatsoever.

  In every case, as soon as Evie laid out her interest in the flowers in the bedroom, each detective hemmed and hawed and then finally admitted they’d either overlooked the significance of them, or else barely tried to get any information about where they’d come from. Fresh flowers in a woman’s bedroom just didn’t seem to make an impression, any more than a pizza box in the fridge, tampons in the bathroom, or new shoes in the closet. Women bought things, they figured.

  Well, most of them figured. One officer had really dug in to try to find out where they’d come from. It had been a female cop, who was now a captain in Long Beach.

  “You never mentioned to any of them except Smith that you think each individual case might be connected to others,” Rowan said as they pulled into the parking lot of a steak restaurant. He needed some protein, and she had readily agreed to a hearty dinner. It was almost eight p.m. and they had only grabbed drive-through food for lunch, having a lot of road to cover and a lot of people to see.

  “Smith was the only one who had worked on two of these cases. I had to mention both, meaning he would instantly know I’d connected them somehow.”

  “You didn’t think the others would believe the similarities?”

  “On the contrary, I suspect they will.”

  He doubted she was trying to hoard the information, keep it for some future scoop. There had to be some other reason, knowing Evie.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them goes looking through cold case murders of women that somehow involve flowers.” She smiled. “It shouldn’t be hard to find what I found, and maybe this whole thing will be blown open without me having to be the one to bring it in.”

  “Ahh,” he said as he got out of the car.

  That was smart thinking. He’d seen the spark of interest in the female captain’s expression and would lay money that she was going to revisit the file. Once she spotted what Evie had, he didn’t doubt that she would make sure somebody took a second look at the case, which would almost certainly lead them down the same path Evie had followed. And then Evie could get back to just being an author researching a book, and not a serial killer bloodhound at risk of putting herself into the sights of a monster.

  He went around to open her door, but Evie was already in the parking lot, her arms raised above her head as she tilted side to side in a stretch. They had spent a lot of time in the car all week, especially today. He shared her discomfort. Rowan had spent a lot of his free time lately running with Cecil B out in the canyon; he wondered if she’d been hitting the beach.

  “You need a day off,” he insisted.

  “Gotta strike while the iron is hot.”

  “Yeah, but if you’re not careful, you might get burned.”

  “There you are being all quippy again.”

  “Don’t call me quippy.”

  “I think the expression is don’t call me Shirley.”

  Recognizing the cheesy old movie line, Rowan had to laugh as he opened the door to the restaurant and followed her in. Evie was more relaxed tonight than he was used to seeing her. Maybe because she suspected her plan to get the cold cases evaluated by fresh eyes looked like it might actually work.

  He just wished she’d filled him in on it. And told her so.

  “Honestly,” she said as they followed a hostess to a booth, “it wasn’t my plan going in or anything. What we talked about this morning about me being the messenger really resonated.”

  “I’m glad something has.”

  She cast him a quick look from between lowered lashes but didn’t respond. He hadn’t exactly been talking about Baker…except yeah, he had.

  Once they were alone at the table, she continued. “As for today, I really was playing it by ear. After we talked to Bingham in Anaheim, and he looked pretty thoughtful as we were leaving, I knew it could work. There are enough of the original detectives still on the job that one of them is surely going to stumble across this angle.”

  God, he hoped so. He did not want her continuing to be involved in this.

  After they’d ordered drinks, Rowan heard his phone buzz and checked the text. “It’s Avery. I need to step out and call him back.”

  “Sure. I’ll be sitting right here drinking my wine. After today, I need it.”

  Going outside to avoid being overheard, he called the captain back.

  “It’s Winchester, s
ir.”

  The gruff captain got right to it. “Franklin Lee made bail.”

  “Oh hell,” he muttered, immediately recognizing the name of Evie’s attacker.

  He’d practically given her his word that the guy was going to rot in jail until he changed his mind and took a plea. Now he was out, walking the street?

  “Who bailed him out?”

  “Local bondsman. No clue who put up the ten percent to hire him. I guess Frankie does have some friends out there with deep pockets.”

  “Damn.”

  “You still seeing Miss Fleming regularly?”

  He did not volunteer the information that she was seated thirty feet away inside a restaurant, waiting for him to finish this call. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Don’t think this punk is stupid enough to come after her, or that he could find her. Frankly, I think that bondsman is gonna be hunting this guy down because I don’t doubt he’s gonna try to skip. But you never know.”

  Right. You never knew. He might instead decide to try to get rid of the witness against him. Or, hell, witnesses. Rowan wasn’t at all worried about himself, but he was the one who’d caught Lee right in the act.

  One thing was sure, it was time to find out for certain if Evie’s movie agent, Marcus Oakley, had been free with her home address. And, if so, who he had leaked it to.

  “Understood, sir.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Avery said, “One more thing, Winchester. I got a message a couple hours ago from a Captain Sanchez outta Long Beach. The message mentioned you. Any idea what this is about?”

  He immediately recognized the name of the female captain who had worked one of the flower murders. He suspected Sanchez was calling to get more info on why Rowan was temporarily assigned to Avery’s group. And he hoped it was because she had done some digging through old records as soon as they had left her office this afternoon.

  “It’s, uh, a little complicated, sir.”

  Avery grunted. “I can handle complicated.”

  “It’s probably better discussed in person.”

  Now that he knew about Evie’s suspicions, and she was bringing them to detectives all over the Los Angeles metropolitan area, he needed to report everything up the chain of command. He doubted Evie would like it, but this was incredibly serious. It needed to go by the book. He wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize any future prosecution…or anything to put Evie in any more danger than she already was.

  Avery harrumphed. “All right, fine. Be in my office first thing tomorrow to uncomplicate it for me before I call her back.”

  Working on a Saturday. Well, that wasn’t anything unusual.

  “I’ll be there, sir.”

  Disconnecting the call, he went back inside and returned to their table. His beer was waiting for him. Sliding into his seat, he lifted it to his mouth and swallowed deeply. Although he, like Captain Avery, didn’t think there was much chance Lee would do anything to get rid of Evie, Rowan still had to tell her the prick had made bail.

  She obviously saw something in his expression. “What is it?” she murmured. She lifted her wineglass to her mouth. He saw the way the golden fluid sloshed in it and realized her hands were shaking.

  Knowing what had inspired her sudden tension, he cleared up one thing immediately. “It’s not Angstrom.”

  She let out a small, audible sigh, and then sipped her wine. She watched him over the rim of the glass, her blue eyes bright and inquisitive, and she no longer looked nervous.

  He hated that Angstrom had the power to do that to her from the other side of the continent and from inside a maximum-security prison.

  “Okay, fill me in,” she said as she lowered the glass.

  He did, seeing her hand clench around the stem of the glass. She didn’t otherwise react.

  “I’m sorry as hell about this.”

  “I thought he wasn’t going to make bail.” There was no accusation in her tone, merely curiosity. Well, maybe a bit of worry too.

  “I can’t believe he did. His record didn’t show any close family or affiliations with gangs that look after their members. No money, no assets. I have no idea who would come forward to put up ten percent of his bond.” Rowan took another deep swallow of his beer before adding, “Whoever it was is gonna be out some serious money, because I have no doubt that sonofabitch is already at the border, trying to cross into Mexico.”

  She licked her lips. “Or staking out my house.”

  He was shaking his head before she finished speaking.

  “No way.” He understood the concern but wanted to make her see it the way he did. “Look, Evie, an off-duty LAPD detective caught him in the act. I saw the assault, I dragged him off you.”

  “Thank heaven,” she mumbled into her glass.

  “He was never out of my sight from the second he came at you until he was put into the police car and taken to headquarters. No room for him to weasel out of it. There can be no argument about mistaken identity or anything else. Lee was caught about as red-handed as a cat with canary feathers in its mouth.”

  “Or a man with a woman’s throat in his hands.”

  He grimaced, not wanting to think about that. “The point is, you’re not the only witness, and as witnesses go, I’m a pretty damn good one. That’s why any lawyer would advise him to take a plea deal.” He shook his head, really not understanding. “I still can’t understand why he didn’t. Unless he knew somebody was gonna bail him out and that he could make a run for it.”

  “That makes sense,” she said. He saw that some of the tension had eased out of her stiffly held body. “And I think you’re right. I was just a random victim; he might not even know my name. He won’t stick around; he’ll hightail it out of here.”

  She was so sensible, so smart. One of the things he liked best about her.

  “But, of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sleep with a crowbar under my pillow for a while.”

  He laughed, as he knew she’d meant him to.

  If things were different, if this damn book weren’t casting its shadow over them, he would like to think he could be right there in her bed at night. He’d be much better than a crowbar at keeping her safe.

  But he couldn’t do that. And he couldn’t take her back to Reece’s place with him. When his brother had called yesterday, it was to let him know he was coming home for the weekend for some meetings and planned to stay at the house. He was probably there now.

  Rowan had already been dreading coming face-to-face with his brothers and telling them what he’d gotten mixed up in. He definitely couldn’t do it if Evie was right there.

  “Listen, my apartment’s empty,” he finally said, thinking of another option. “If you’d feel better staying there, you’re more than welcome.”

  She was already shaking her head. “No, it’s fine, really. I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure? I mean, with your address being given out…”

  “I talked to Candace about that late last night,” she said. “She put Marcus on the phone. He swears he did not give anyone my home address Monday night.” She let out a disgusted sound. “Though he did admit calling the media to tell them about the attack, which is how they got there so quickly.”

  He frowned. “Do you believe him?”

  She hesitated, and then slowly shook her head. “No, I really don’t. I think he said what he thought he had to in order to get Candace off his back and to keep me from firing him.”

  Yeah. That’s what Rowan suspected too.

  “But that doesn’t mean a parolee with a record of violence would be able to find out where I live,” she said, sounding quite reasonable.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “You want to hear something crazy?”

  “Crazier than anything else you’ve said to me since the minute we met?”

  She flicked his hand with her middle finger. Hard.

  “Ow. Okay, what?”

  “The thought of Franklin Lee walking on the st
reets free and clear doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the thought of Angstrom getting a new trial. I’d rather come face-to-face with a mugger any day than ever have to sit in a courtroom across from that psychopath again.”

  Rowan had testified in his fair share of trials. Never one involving a soulless monster like Joe Angstrom, though. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her, especially given what he’d done to her friend.

  “Okay, then,” he said, glad she wasn’t stressing too much over this. “Let’s just focus on dinner and not spare another thought for either of the bastards.”

  He’d be thinking of them later. Tonight. When he staked out her house, watching over her from his car. She might be comfortable with just a crowbar for protection.

  He, however, was not.

  Raine might be the professional bodyguard of the family, but Rowan had done more than his fair share of stakeouts. He knew how to sit in a car all night watching for trouble.

  Tonight, the mission would be very personal.

  He wasn’t going to let anybody get near Evie Fleming, be it a serial killer on the East Coast or a street thug right here in LA.

  Nobody was getting past him and into her house.

  Nobody.

  Chapter 8

  Evie Fleming! Just the person I wanted to see,” a male voice said Saturday morning as she sat in the room in headquarters she’d been given to use for research. She was alone, or she had been until the door had been pushed open and a man had come in.

  It wasn’t Rowan. He’d made an appointment to see Captain Avery and had followed her in this morning. She’d found the overprotective man sitting in his car right in front of her house. Judging by his clothes and the redness of his eyes, it didn’t take much to figure out he’d been parked there all night, her own private bodyguard.

  God, she wished he had just come in and spent the night. This stalemate between them was infuriating. It was time she did something about it.

  But first she had to deal with this.

  “Hello, Lieutenant Carlton,” she said, offering him a small, polite smile. And definitely no encouragement.