by Adrianne Lee
Cage squawked and swore. “How did he know that?”
How had he known? Kerrie wanted to shout at her partner. Nick was a hood! Hoods could smell a roomful of cops from a mile off Instead of shouting, she took a calming breath, willing herself not to be sidetracked by her partner’s anxiety. “I can’t account for your vivid imagination. The only thing I was doing here last night was having a pleasant date. I was most certainly not trying to catch anyone called Loveboy.”
“Loverboy.” Nick tsked, his devilish smile lighting his handsome face. “Did you know you blink when you lie?”
Cage swore again. “He knows we’re on to him. He knows your true identity. I think you’d better terminate this interview.”
Anxiety tightened Kerrie’s stomach. Maybe now was a good time to start listening to her partner. She rose from her chair.
Nick followed suit. “Where are you going?”
“I forgot,” she said coolly. “I’ve got another appointment and if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”
“But you haven’t eaten.”
“I’ve lost my appetite.” She started to reach into her purse for her wallet. “But I’ll pay—”
“No. I invited you. Lunch with an old friend.”
Kerrie shook her head. “I told you before. we were never friends.”
“All right…lovers.”
“Lovers?” Cage teased, his New Jersey roots traceable in his voice. “Is that why you didn’t want to meet with this guy?”
After Nick Diamond’s remark about her birthmark yesterday, Cage knew full well that was the reason. Fuming at both men, she retrieved her umbrella from the floor and shook it at Nick, speaking to him as well as her partner. “That’s history. Let’s keep it that way.”
Nick reached across and, as gently as a baby’s touch, nipped the sleeve of her sweater between his finger and thumb. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Positive!”
She pulled free, gathered her raincoat and began weaving her way between the empty tables. She mumbled, “I’m halfway across the restaurant.”
Cage sighed. “Good.”
Struggling into her coat as she moved, Kerrie rammed her hip against a table. Pain spiraled from her hipbone and pulled her up short. The person at the table jerked his head up. Beneath the brim of his felt hat, his sable brown eyes were hot and unfriendly. Kerrie blinked and stepped back, excusing herself.
But the man’s odd expression replayed in her head as she hurried onto the sidewalk. He’d seemed startled and yet, the look in his eyes had been chilling as though he knew and…hated her. She shivered. Did she know the owner of that face?
The rain had let up, but the October wind gusted down the busy street, tossing leaves and debris along the gutters and sidewalks. Tension hurried Kerrie toward her fiveyear-old Mazda at the end of the block. She barely glanced at the unmarked Seattle PD van parked on the opposite side of the street. Just knowing Cage was there reassured her.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and the skin at her nape prickled, that odd sensation she got whenever she was being watched or followed. “Cage, can you see me?”
“Yes.”
Fear flushed her skin as she envisioned again the eerie eyes of the man whose table she’d bumped in the bar. Her car was less than five feet away. “Is someone following me?”
“As a matter of fact…yes.”
Her pulse wobbled. She reached into her purse and grasped her gun.
Cage chuckled. “It’s your lunch date.”
“What?” Furious, she closed the gap to her car, then wheeled around.
Four feet behind her, Nick reared to a stop. His black leather jacket hung open at his waist, and the wind ran fresh fingers through his ebony hair. He started to speak.
Kerrie cut him off, glaring at him. “I said goodbye.”
One corner of his mouth quirked upward and a huge dimple dented his cheek. “Actually you didn’t. You just left. Rather rudely, I thought.”
“Then we’re even. That’s exactly the way you left the last time I saw you.” She turned her back on him, unlocked her car door and yanked it open.
“I knew you were still angry about that.” Nick caught the door and held it as Kerrie climbed into the Mazda.
She peered up at him. “I’m not angry. You did me a favor by disappearing.”
“A favor? Good. Then you owe me one. I’ll collect now. I need a lift to my hotel.”
With her patience thinning, she dug into her wallet, then withdrew a quarter and boldly tucked it into the coin pocket of his jeans. “Call a taxi.”
Her gaze lifted in time for her to see the slight widening of his eyes. She bit her lip to keep from smiling and gestured for him to back up so she could shut the door.
Cage said, “Maybe you should give him, a ride. Find out where he’s staying. We could dust your car after for fingerprints.”
Kerrie’s brows lifted at her partner’s sudden about-face. She swore under her breath and poked the key into the ignition, but didn’t start the car.
Still holding the door, Nick leaned down until their faces were level. “You have to drive right past my hotel.”
“I’m not going that way.”
“I haven’t told you where I’m staying.” His breath feathered across her lips, smelling of mint and coffee.
She tensed. “I haven’t told you where I’m going.”
“Back to the station to write your report about our lunch, right?”
Fear shimmered through her. But was she afraid Nick was Loverboy or was she just afraid of Nick?
As if he’d read her mind, Cage said, “Don’t worry, Muldoon, I’ll be with you every block. And if we can pick up some prints, we might get a handle on this guy.”
“It’s getting downright cold out here.” Nick shrugged against the chilly wind, then glanced at the sky. “Was that a raindrop?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. I’ll take you under one condition—promise you won’t talk about our past.”
He nodded, then hurried around to the passenger side of her car. Surreptitiously, he glanced at the van across the street, recognizing it for what it was. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered as it dawned on him that Kerrie was wired for sound. That the police had been listening to their every word.
The full ramification hit him as he dropped onto the seat beside her. My God, she must think he was Loverboy. Anger seared his gut. Damn her. She was more cop than woman, and she was setting him up again.
If he weren’t so angry, he might find it amusing. Here he’d been thinking himself so clever. That he was going to use her this time, and all the while she was making a fool out of him again. He heard the van’s engine fire. Her “backup” would be following them. A vindictive thought crept through his mind, bringing a grin to his lips. With an effort, he suppressed it and he reached for the seat belt.
Kerrie started the engine and pulled into traffic, too aware of Nick’s disturbing bulk beside her. She focused straight ahead, thanking the powers that be that he was finally quiet.
Rain began to fall, thundering against the roof of the car and causing the windows to fog. The wipers clacked and the defroster huffed—normal Seattle sounds…that Kerrie found familiar and comforting in a world that too often was alien and disturbing. She started to relax.
“Don’t worry, Irish.” Nick’s husky voice vibrated along her nerve endings, and Kerrie swore silently. Before she could tell him she wasn’t worried about anything, he leaned close to her. Despite her best efforts to resist, she glanced into his amber eyes.
“I don’t need to talk about our past,” he murmured. “I can tell every time we’re together that you’re remembering it.”
Cage chuckled.
Kerrie’s temper snapped. She stomped on the brake, and with tires squealing, jerked the car to the curb. “Get out.”
For once Cage seemed at a loss for words.
Nick looked out at
the rain, then back at Kerrie. He made no move to comply to her command. She should have reached over and opened his door, but that would have meant touching him. Her jaw still tingled where his fingers had grazed it earlier and she didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want any other part of her to feel his warmth. “I said, get out.”
His gaze fell on her mouth, puckered in anger. A sudden blood-heating hunger swept him. God, he wanted to kiss her; the force of it shocked him. But he could see if he tried she’d slap handcuffs on him so fast his wrists would rattle. He glanced out at the rain again, then back at Kerrie, his expression as repentant as his words. “Okay. That was uncalled for. I’ll behave…”
Behave? Kerrie’s anger flared as if it were a reviving fire and she struggled to douse it. She doubted Nick even knew the meaning of the word “behave.” She bit back the urge to tell him that. The best thing to do was accept his apology, rein in her temper and drop him off. Quickly.
“Muldoon?” Cage’s voice issuing from her police radio—instead of directly into her ear—startled her. She glared at the radio. She was as angry at Cage for laughing at her as she was at Nick for creating the problem. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anything from Cage. Pulling into traffic again, she glanced into the rearview mirror. The van was still behind her. Still following. Whatever Cage wanted, he could say to her privately.
His voice issued from the radio again, sounding anxious. Why was he using the radio now? Perturbed, she grabbed the handheld microphone and answered. “Muldoon, here. What’s up, Cage?”
“Your mother was in some kind of accident.”
“What? When? Where is she? How is she?” The questions tumbled out of her with the speed of her accelerating heart as frightening scenarios leaped through her head.
There was a pause from Cage and then he said, “She’s at Virginia Mason. No other details yet. I’ll see what I can find out and call you right back.”
Kerrie had already started up Pill Hill, the district above Seattle named for all the medical facilities located there. “Make it fast. I’ll be at the hospital in two minutes.”
Chapter Three
Tension in the Mazda zipped a notch higher. Roman watched Kerrie’s knuckles turn white against the black steering wheel as she dodged through traffic with the daring and expertise of a professional race driver. So intent was her expression, he figured she had blocked out all else-including the fact that he still occupied the seat beside her.
Detachment was something most cops became adept at, usually sooner than later, but despite her profession, beneath, it all, Kerrie was a daughter. He knew too well that her professional reserve flew out the window when family was threatened or injured.
He considered what he might say to calm her down and quickly rejected the hollow cliches that sprang to mind. In the course of her daily grind she’d likely offered worthless bromides more times than she could count to families of victims.
Kerrie swore. The car rammed to a stop, then almost instantly started forward again with a lurch, jerking Roman against the seat belt. Right now, there was only one thing that could truly ease the heart-thudding, pulse-jumping fear that was coursing through her veins: a doctor’s assurance that her mother would survive and be as she was before whatever accident had befallen her.
Recklessly, Kerrie took a corner too fast, then slammed to a stop again at the entrance to a covered, six-story parking garage. Moments later, they were ascending through the narrow passageways at freeway speed. The Mazda’s tires chirped in protest. Roman held on, his gaze sliding to Kerrie.
He wanted to ask about her mother. But in the six weeks he’d shared with Kerrie three years ago, she’d never mentioned her parents. Or siblings. Or aunts, or uncles, nephews or nieces. Hell, for all he knew there was a whole clan of Muldoons they’d never discussed.
Their conversations had centered on business, his business, or their pleasuring each other. More often, they hadn’t talked at all. Erotic images filled his head. Roman swallowed hard and shoved them away. She, too, had family who could be hurt, perhaps killed; the pain of recent loss squeezed his heart, and like a train shifting on a track, realization jostled him.
He’d let Kerrie distract him, diverting his focus from his mission in Seattle. It was time he stopped playing games. Time he fixed on the task he’d come to perform.
Kerrie was out of the car and heading toward the stairs before he could disengage his seat belt. She didn’t notice him chasing after her. Rain fell in sheets as she sprinted across the street and into the Virginia Mason Medical Center. The police van pulled to the curb. Roman ignored it. Wet and disgruntled, he followed Kerrie to the reception desk where she was inquiring about her mother.
But it wasn’t until they were on the elevator that she glanced at him and a look of bewildered recognition, then annoyance registered in her eyes. “What are you doing?”
Roman grinned wryly, trying to diffuse the tension that issued from her like steam off a damp sidewalk. “I believe it’s called ‘riding in an elevator’.”
Her face darkened with impatience. “What are you doing here?”
“I’d like to make certain your mother is okay.”
“Why?”
The question brought him up short. He noticed a drop of rain on her forehead, but resisted the temptation to brush it aside. Why did he care about her mother? He’d never met the woman. never given her a thought before a few minutes ago. Reasons eluded him. He frowned hard. “I don’t know…but I do.”
“Well, get lost. I can’t deal with you right now.”
The elevator doors slid open, but before Kerrie scurried off, Roman caught her arm. “Irish, you’re as pale as a ghost. Likely in shock. If your mother is awake…aware, do you want her to see you like this?” He loosened his grip, wishing the odd knot in his throat would loosen as well. “Wouldn’t you rather take a minute to catch your breath?”
She bit her lower lip, her chest heaving. After a long moment, she nodded. Roman released her, and they stepped off the elevator. The doors clacked shut behind them. Kerrie closed her eyes and took two slow, deep breaths. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look so…so vulnerable. Nor could he recall a woman’s vulnerability touching him more.
With an effort, Roman resisted the urge to pull her into a comforting embrace. She wouldn’t welcome such a gesture…not at this moment…not from him.
She opened her eyes, their emerald depths clearing, the shock subsiding. “Better.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Better. Which room is she in?”
Kerrie raised an eyebrow. He suspected she was about to question him again on the subject of his interest in her mother. Instead she planted her hands on her shapely little hips and ran her tongue along her delectable upper lip, the gestures drawing his attention to areas of her he was trying damned hard to ignore.
She said, “I appreciate what you just did for me, staving off a hysterical outburst, but you and my mother…gas and water. Please, just go.”
Roman puzzled the gas and water analogy for half a second, until it hit him that she still thought he was Nick Diamond, not the sort of man any woman in her right mind would ever introduce to her mother. Maybe this wasn’t the time or place to straighten her out. Maybe it was. “There’s something I need to tell—”
“No, not now.” Kerrie held up a hand to silence him. “One accident at a time is my limit.” She spun on her heel and headed down the hall, promptly disappearing around a bend. Roman caught up with her just as Kerrie approached a uniformed cop, a Gold’s Gym lifetime member from the size of him.
Roman sidled up to them and stopped. The patrolman’s pale eyebrows lifted. Kerrie shook her head. “Never mind him, Erikssen, tell me what happened.”
“There was a knifing.”
All heat drained from Kerrie’s face. “My mother?”
A handsome, silver-haired doctor emerged from the nearest room. A stethoscope draped his tanned neck and a white lab coat protected his expensive suit. Kerrie a
bandoned Erikssen. “Oh, Jon. How is she?”
The hard lines around Dr. Jon Vauter’s dark eyes softened as he adapted a consoling expression. “Shaken, but otherwise—”
“Shaken?” Kerrie cut him off. “I don’t understand. Erikssen said there had been a knifing.”
Dr. Vauter nodded. “The other woman wasn’t as lucky as Glynna.”
“Other woman?” One of her mother’s friends? Kerrie’s heart hitched. “Who?”
Erikssen jumped in as if she’d asked him the question, giving her the name of a stranger. Kerrie drew a ragged breath, relief slipping through her. Her mother wasn’t hurt. No one she knew had been stabbed. Guilt tainted her relief. Someone knew and loved the other woman. “What’s her condition?”
“She was DOA,” Erikssen answered.
Kerrie cast the patrolman a bewildered glance. “How was my mother involved in this?”
This time the doctor answered. “Glynna insists we let her tell you, Kerrie.”
She shifted toward the doctor again. “And she’s all right?”
“She had quite a shock, but otherwise she appears to be fine.”
Relief threatened to drop her to her knees, but Kerrie resisted the urge with all her might. She would not embarrass herself with a show of feminine frailties. Not in front of Erikssen, who might carry the tale back to the station. Not in front of Nick Diamond, who knew too well how to use her weaknesses against her.
She squared her shoulders, and mentally pulled herself together. Her mother was fine. Not hurt, just rattled. “When can I take her home?”
“Well, I would like to keep her overnight—”
Kerrie cut him off. “But you said she was fine.”
“Merely a precaution, Kerrie. Shock is always unpredictable.”
Kerrie cast Jon Vauter a sidelong glance. He wasn’t just their family doctor. A widower of five years, he was also her mother’s frequent dinner companion and tennis partner; he’d even proposed marriage once or twice. She suspected his concern now was more personal than professional, a consideration that dissipated her tension another notch.
