“…or should I meet you at your place later?” Simone was smiling at a tall, distinguished-looking man with a touch of white at his temples. When they approached, the man adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses and smiled a greeting. He turned back to Simone. “Why don’t you meet me at the coffee shop,” he said, his voice heavily accented. Then he brought his attention back on Brianna and Mike.
“Oh, Dr. Kent.” Simone turned toward her, smiling. “I thought you were in court today. I’m so glad you stopped in. I’d like you to meet my friend, David Malden. David, this is my boss, Dr. Kent, and her friend, Michael Landis.”
Brianna shook David’s offered hand then watched as Mike exchanged handshakes with the older man. “Glad to finally meet you, David,” Brianna said. “Simone has told me so many nice things about you.”
“Congratulations on your recent award, Dr. Kent.” He glanced at Simone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t attend the ceremony. Business, you know.”
“Yes,” Simone chimed in. “David is in charge of financial investments for Pierce, Alcott and Barney. He had to take a late flight to Chicago to oversee an important insurance merger.”
The man almost blushed. “I was waiting for Simone to finish up, then we were going to dinner.” He glanced at his watch. “But since she’s not quite through, maybe I should wait downstairs in the coffee shop.”
Brianna glanced at her watch. “Why don’t you call it a day, Simone. I’m not expecting any clients, and the transcription tape can wait until tomorrow.”
Simone grinned with pleasure. “Very well.” She blushed, then looked at David. “I won’t be a minute,” she said, straightening her desk. “And thank you, Dr. Kent. Have a lovely evening, you two.”
Brianna exchanged a smile with Mike as she strode across the waiting room and withdrew her key. When she unlocked her door and walked into her office, the memory of the surveillance bug that Mike had found in her phone came back to haunt her. She stared at the phone sitting at the center of her desk. When Mike came inside, he closed the door, and took a seat beside her desk.
She pulled a chair over to the file cabinets and pulled out the top drawer. Her fingernails flicked through the tabbed folders, withdrawing several files. By the time she’d finished going through all the drawers, she had almost twenty folders in her lap. “These clients have had at least one male batterer in their histories,” she said grimly. “Four of them have left town and are living safely under a new identity. Some aren’t so lucky.” She handed Mike one file, her face drawn. “This woman’s ex-boyfriend murdered her before she had finished packing. We warned her not to return to their apartment, but…”
“Where is the man now?”
“He’s in prison. He’ll be out on good behavior in a couple of years.”
He understood how someone with Brianna’s intense dedication to her clients would feel their loss. He wished he could say or do something, but all he could do was say, “I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him. “I am, too.” She pulled several more files from the drawer. “Not all batterers are male. Here’s a woman whose husband came to me. Her husband wanted to save their marriage, and his wife, thank God, was willing to go through therapy. They both worked hard to get to the root of their problems. When she was stronger, she left him.”
“How did her husband take it?”
“He seemed to have adjusted to her leaving, then a few months later, he killed himself.” She slapped the file on top of the others. “Not many happily-ever-afters in this business.”
That, plus our own failed marriage, he thought with regret. He took a stack of folders from her. “We’ll run a check on these people, then we’ll check their siblings or parents just to be sure no one else in their background might be nursing grudges against you.”
She walked to a small closet and drew out a folded storage box. “I think the files will all fit in here,” she said, placing the box on top of her desk. “Why don’t we pack them up and work on them at the Crib.”
“Sounds good to me.” As he finished the task, he wondered if Bailey had finished running Larry Cunningham’s name through their files. “Is Cunningham on call this evening?”
“No, I am. Why?”
“Hmm. Just wondered.”
She got to her feet and pulled the stack of files together. “Might as well take these for starters.”
She was about to leave, when she noticed the mail stacked in her in-basket. Simone must have brought it when she had first come in. Brianna sifted through the first few business letters, then she stopped. “Mike, look.”
He turned around. He knew by the size of the envelope and the lack of a return address that it was from the stalker.
“Want me to open it?” Mike asked.
She shook her head. “No, no, I’ll do it.” She turned it over and lifted the back flap from the envelope. As before, the stalker had used a self-adhesive mailer. She slid the photo out onto the desktop, making certain not to touch the picture in case Mike wanted to dust it for prints.
A cold shiver coursed through her as she stared at the black-and-white enlargement. “It’s Kristi!” The teenager was laughing at someone or something out of camera range as she strode down the stairs of a brownstone apartment building. “Dear God, Mike. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Brianna, he’s trying to scare you. That’s all.” He put his arm around her. “We can’t tell by a photo what he’s intending to do.”
“Yes we can.” She dug her fingers into his forearm. “He’s telling me that if he can’t get to me, he’ll get to Kristi.”
MIKE CLOSED A HAND over hers and linked fingers. “I’ve just called Liam and he’s putting a twenty-four-hour surveillance around Kristi. She’ll never guess a thing. Now, don’t worry.”
“Dammit, Mike, how can I not worry?” She stared down at their joined hands. They were back at the Crib, and Mike had spent the last hour on the phone, calling and checking contacts, all the while reassuring her that he’d protect Kristi from the stalker. But the morgue was filled with victims who thought they were safe from their attackers.
“Bria,” he said, his words gentle. She couldn’t quite look away from the burning intent in those blue eyes, yet she wanted to. She pressed her palms flat against his hard chest. “I need to walk around. I can’t stay cooped up like this—”
“Maybe what you need is a little exercise.” He was sitting so close to her, so very close. She looked away but didn’t make any move to leave. “You need someone to take your mind off…” His words whispered in her ear and she felt a jolt of electricity that had nothing to do with Consolidated Edison.
“Mike, I don’t think that would be a very good idea…”
“Hmm. Why not?” He brushed a strand of hair from her lips.
“Because…” His gaze remained on her lips, almost intense, and she felt a strong desire to draw him to her. Maybe Mike was right? Harmless sex with her ex-husband? Like hell. There was nothing harmless about Michael Landis. And sex with him would leave her remembering what was missing from her life. Maybe a few hours of incredible sex would cut the anxiety from his life, but loving Mike had never been a casual thing for her.
She watched his eyes darken with need. His breathing was as rough and ragged as hers.
I walked away from you once, Mike. I don’t think I could go through that again. The truth struck her as hard as a direct blow to the sternum. She wanted a man who came home every night, a man who didn’t feel he had to save fledgling nations’ dictators, or head up a covert team of special military maneuvers at a moment’s notice. No, she deserved a man who would put her and their children first. She wouldn’t settle for anything less.
She forced herself to stand, willing her legs to carry her to her room. “I’m going to turn in early,” she said, not looking at him. For if she as much as stole a glance at the hunger she’d see in his eyes, she’d be gone. And once she gave in, she’d be lost.
“DR. KENT, HELP ME!”
/> Brianna stumbled along the dark hospital corridor, her feet sliding on the warm, thick oil covering the floor. “Kristi? Where are you?”
“Help me, please!”
Panic welled in the back of her throat. “Tell me where you are?” Brianna peered wildly through the growing shadows. Where was the light switch? Why was it so dark? “Kristi? Tell me where you are and I’ll come—”
“She’s here,” a deep male voice called out from behind her. Brianna twirled around. Leonard Braewood grasped Kristi by her bloody throat, the knife clenched in his fingers dripped with blood.
“Help me,” Kristi cried, her white face grotesquely contorted. “I don’t want to die.” But Brianna knew the girl was already dead. The metallic smell of blood was everywhere, Brianna didn’t have to look down at her feet to know she was standing in a river of Kristi’s blood.
Brianna jerked awake, tears of terror swelling over the dam of her lashes. She reached across the pillow for Mike, but he wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t there. She was alone.
She sat up, fighting away the nightmare as her mind strained to remember what was real. Yes, she was safe. She was at the Crib, with Mike sleeping in the bedroom across the hall. Kristi was safe, too. She had phoned the girl late last night, heard her sleepy voice stirred from sleep. It was only a dream.
But that didn’t stop her shaking, or her heart hammering or the cold sweat filming her skin. Leonard Braewood wasn’t a figment from a nightmare. He was real. The hate she’d seen in his eyes had been real, too. She’d seen something else crack through the animosity in those brown eyes. Insanity. She’d blocked the truth from her consciousness until now, but she’d seen that look in the criminally insane too many times not to recognize a sick mind.
Leonard Braewood, or whoever the stalker called himself the next time they met, was a sick man. And they would meet, if he had his way. He was out there, waiting. And he wouldn’t stop tormenting her until he got what he wanted.
Hot tears formed against her will. Damn, she was tired of being so afraid and pretending to be brave. She lay back against the pillows, fighting a sob as recent events caught up with her. The exhaustion of the past weeks, the terror of facing the man who was obsessed with making her life a living hell, the futility of keeping her clients safe, and the painful and sweet memories of Mike and the feeling of inadequacy they prompted.
She covered her wet face with her hands. In the darkness, she didn’t have to be brave. But she was so sick to death of being frightened. She was tired of being alone. She wanted… She needed…Mike.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. You’re going to regret this, a little voice warned, but she didn’t care. She needed Mike. She needed his strong arms around her. She needed to feel safe. If only for tonight.
MIKE DIDN’T KNOW if he had sensed her coming, or if he’d heard the click of her bedroom door as it opened. Whichever it was, he didn’t care. She was here, eager to let him love her.
Without a word, he opened the covers and drew her into his arms. Her hair was damp as he brushed it from her face. Her lips tasted like tears, and something akin to helplessness descended upon him. He remembered one other time when she had cried and he’d felt helpless.
They had only been married a month when she thought she was pregnant. Despite the financial problems a baby would have brought into their lives, they’d been head over heels delighted with the possibility. Arm in arm they’d window-shopped for stuffed bears, frilly organdy bonnets and a tiny football in case the baby was a boy. But a few weeks later when she discovered that she wasn’t pregnant, he had held her, like now, while the tears flowed.
He had felt more than helpless. He knew what she’d wanted him to say, but he was too practical to say they could try to have a child. Not until they had some financial stability. He’d be damned if they’d live on her inheritance, and with his minimum-wage jobs, financial security would have been highly unlikely. But who would have believed that his invention—his new design of a semiconductor for computer modems—would be purchased the year after their divorce. How could he blame her for not believing in him. Without her, he’d lost faith in himself, too.
“Make love with me,” she whispered. He held her, knowing that he’d dreamed of this moment for so long. But did she want him or only need him to make her feel safe?
“Bad dream?” he asked.
“Mike, I was wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“You were right when you said we may only have today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
He bit back the feeling of regret. “No strings. Is that what you’re saying?”
She sat up, propped herself on one arm and pushed her hair from her face as she looked at him. “Isn’t that what you want?”
He took her mouth, avoiding the answer. She moaned, softening against him as their kiss deepened. He wanted strings. Plenty of them where she was concerned. He also wanted to hear that she loved him. But if she said those words now, he wouldn’t believe her.
Maybe he’d been right. Maybe they only had today.
Chapter Twelve
Brianna’s hair trailed across Michael’s cheek, the sensation waking him. For a moment he listened, treasuring the sound of her soft breathing. He smiled, watching her asleep in his arms, his heart full in the afterglow of their long night of lovemaking.
He glanced at the neon-blue numbers of the bedside clock: 4:12 a.m. He wanted her again. He was ready. But she needed her rest. He grinned, remembering how eager she’d been, how eager they’d both been…to start something that had nowhere to go.
He wouldn’t worry about that now. He brushed the top of her silky head with his lips, pushing away the memories of long-ago mornings that began with waking up with Brianna in his arms. That was another lifetime ago. Now he was older, smarter, or sure as hell should be. She’s a client first, his ex-wife second. You don’t go to bed with a client. Never. No exceptions.
He stared at the ceiling and took in a long, deep breath, careful not to disturb her. Brianna would wake up with regret, no doubt about that. If she didn’t say so, he’d read it in those greenish eyes that reflected deep within her soul.
She’d feel responsible, too, but he wouldn’t allow her to bear the guilt. But if he said she shouldn’t feel guilty, would she think he wasn’t taking their going to bed seriously enough? Or would she prefer that he take their lovemaking lightly? Yes, maybe she’d want him to think that their lovemaking was nothing more than just physical need.
Physical attraction, she’d called it.
Hell, he couldn’t second-guess her seven years ago, and he still couldn’t. No wonder he was afraid to share his feelings. He was afraid to feel, where she was concerned. For below the scab were feelings he didn’t want to probe. Scary thoughts of involvement, commitment and connection for the long haul. Scary things that a guy like him—the original rolling stone—had no right to be wanting.
The cell phone on the table beside the bed sputtered a soft ring. She stirred slightly. His hand reached the device and clicked the on button before the phone rang again and woke her.
“Hmm.”
“Mike? It’s Liam.”
“What?”
“You and Brianna better get down here. I’m at Kristi McFarland’s apartment building. Her boyfriend just left. They apparently had a fight and she’s hurt. Looks like she’s taken a nasty tumble down the stairs. I’ve called the police and an ambulance. I thought you and Brianna would want to know.”
“Stay with her. We’re on our way.”
“W-what is it, Mike?” Brianna said sleepily.
“Get dressed, honey. That was Liam. He’s with Kristi. There’s been an accident.”
“The stalker?” she said, instantly awake.
“Not this time. I’ll tell you in the car.
REFLECTED RED LIGHTS from the ambulance ricocheted off the gawking faces of tenants and neighbors who lined the sidewalk leading to the corner brownstone apartment building. A p
olice cruiser, its blue flashing lights rotating, angled in front of the curb. Liam was talking to several police officers at the sidewalk. When he saw Mike’s SUV double-parked, he came toward them.
Brianna unlocked her seat belt and dashed from the passenger-side door before Mike had brought the SUV to a complete stop. By the time Mike and Liam caught up with her, the entrance door swung open and a team of paramedics hefted a stretcher down the steps.
“What happened?” Brianna asked Liam when he came beside them.
“Kristi and her boyfriend started arguing. The windows were open, most of the neighbors heard their fight.” He shook his head. “Something about the boyfriend taking her money. The guy left, mad as hell. He didn’t even shut the front door. All was quiet for about five minutes, then I heard a scream and I ran inside and found her at the bottom of the stairs. I heard her before I saw her. The hallway light was burned out.”
“So it was an accident?” Brianna asked.
“She said someone pushed her. But if she’s covering for her boyfriend, he might have pushed her and she was knocked unconscious for a few minutes. Then when she came to, she saw she was injured and decided to scream for help. She might be lying about the strange guy lurking in the hallway who pushed her.”
“Did you see anyone?” Mike asked.
“No. By the time I found her, called 911, enough time had passed for someone to get away, if there was somebody.”
“If?” Brianna’s eyebrows lifted. “Maybe she’s telling the truth.”
“I’m considering every angle, Brianna.” Liam looked at Mike and shrugged. “There was time for someone to head out the back window and go down the fire escape then beat it down the alley.”
“So you don’t think her boyfriend did it?” Brianna asked.
“I’d rather wait until I see what the police turn up,” Liam answered.
When the gurney wheeled past, Brianna rushed along the side. Mike tried to hold her back. “Let’s get in the car. We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital,” he said, not wanting her to witness any more unpleasantness than necessary. He should have known better. She jerked free and was at Kristi’s side before he could stop her.
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