Alias: Daddy

by Adrianne Lee

  “He’s right, Irish. It could have been a teen looking for something to sell for drug money.”

  “It could have been.” Kerrie frowned, then glanced into the mirror, locking her gaze with Roman’s. “Last night. shortly after you left, something or someone set off the motion sensor light at the corner of my garage.”

  “Something or someone? What exactly did you see?”

  She glanced back at the road. “I thought I saw a man lurch into the shadows. I suppose it could have been a teenage boy.”

  “But you don’t think so?” Roman’s voice was tense.

  “I’m not sure what I saw.” Kerrie recalled how she’d automatically reached for her gun. Had her instincts been right? Had the shadowy figure she’d seen been Loverboy? Last night she’d laughed off the paranoia of his locating her home address. Now Bud was dead, murdered in his own kitchen. Now her house had been broken into. She wasn’t laughing anymore.

  Cage shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well, speculating is a waste of time. Let’s hope whoever did this left enough evidence to lead us straight to his front door.”

  KERRIE’S PULSE was pinging by the time they entered her back door. Two of Seattle’s finest had arrived before them. Erikssen, the patrolman who’d been at the hospital the other day and his partner, the antithesis of the big Swede in every way, slight, dark haired and female. The woman acknowledged their greeting, then said, “Erikssen’s in the basement”

  Cage and Roman scrambled down the stairs.

  Kerrie wanted to follow after them, wanted to rush to her mother, to rush to her babies. She just stood there, as if her feet were planted in cement, staring at her mother, relieved to see she was in one piece, that she was as she’d left her. Yet something was disturbingly different. Her cozy little house felt alien, awash in drama, as if she were watching a play with too many actors onstage, the action impossible to follow.

  “Are you all right?” Jon Vauter asked, breaking through her immobility.

  Kerrie tore her gaze from her mother. The doctor, his silver hair neatly combed, his expensive clothes immacu-

  late, his tanned face expressing concern, sat beside her mother at the kitchen table. “I’ve had better nights.”

  “You’re terribly pale, sweetheart.” Glynna started to stand.

  Kerrie waved her back into her chair. “Please sit down and finish giving your statement. I want to check on the girls.”

  “They’re fine, darling. I checked not more than ten minutes ago myself.”

  “Just the same.” She tossed her coat on a chair and hurried to the girls’ room. The moment she stepped into the softly lit haven and found her precious babies fast asleep, she drew her first deep breath in an hour. Here all was calm, here all was exactly as she’d left it hours ago. Except that Gabby had once again kicked off her covers.

  “Does she always do that?” Roman murmured, startling Kerrie so badly she nearly dropped to the floor.

  She spun around, took one look at the wonder emanating from his eyes and all the emotions she’d held tightfisted inside her, broke loose. Nothing at the police academy or in her experience to-date had prepared her for the violation she felt at having a stranger forcibly enter her home. Her safe place. Her family’s safe place. A sob burst from her. “Someone broke in here. He could have.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say what “he” might have done to her babies, wouldn’t allow herself to imagine the horrors she’d seen perpetrated on children. Gabby shifted, then began sucking on her thumb. Kerrie gathered a deep breath and lowered her voice. “Was it Loverboy?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered in an equally quiet tone. He could see the violation she felt, the anger, but most of all the fear, and even though he didn’t want to share her emotions, didn’t want to empathize with this woman who’d shut him out of his babies’ lives, he did. So help him, God, he did. “Only Forensics can tell us that.”

  “This is the first time my work has…”

  He nodded, understanding that she meant it was the first time her work had ever put her family in jeopardy, the first time her job had ever gotten personal, and she abhorred it.

  His job had gotten personal lots of times. Usually he found the experience exhilarating. It played to his love of danger, heightened the stakes, increased the thrill, made bringing down the bad guys so much sweeter.

  This time he abhorred it, too. With these innocent little girls involved, with Kerrie involved, the threat held no tantalizing edge, only genuine terror. He couldn’t lose what he’d barely found. What he hadn’t even had the chance to savor.

  Kerrie reached for the blanket and tugged it up to Gabriella’s shoulders. Her hand trembled, the only outward sign of how truly upset she was. Why did she always have to act so tough? Despite not wanting anything to do with her, he ached to comfort her. But she was holding herself so stiffly he feared she’d break if he touched her.

  Kerrie could see he was as shaken as she was. Funny. She’d never thought of him as vulnerable. It just pointed out how little she really knew Roman Donnello. How little credit she’d given him for being a decent human being. But a part of her still feared him. Even feared his vulnerability. Especially his vulnerability. It made him too human.

  It was easier to think of him as a monster. Had it only been yesterday that she’d worried he wouldn’t want involvement in his daughters’ lives? What a fool she’d been. Her biggest problem would be the unfathomable depth of his involvement with them.

  She couldn’t deal with this right now. Her last nerve felt ready to pop. She had to talk about something else. Anything else. She walked softly from Gabby’s crib to Maureen’s. “Do you think it was Loverboy?”

  “I was afraid Loverboy would try something tonight—I don’t know what I expected, but I did sense your mother was in danger. Especially after Mike Springer lost the tail Cage put on him. That’s why I raced over here from McRory’s earlier.”

  “I know why you rushed over here. I heard your exchange with Cage in the surveillance van.”

  “Ah.” Roman nodded. He’d forgotten she was wearing a wire. So that was why she’d arrived practically on his heels.

  Kerrie clenched her hands in front of her. “But could Loverboy have been here and at Bud Grimes’s tonight?”

  “If he got here before me, and left shortly after you arrived—sure. He’d have had plenty of time.”

  “And you’re sure Loverboy is Mike Springer?”

  “Don’t tell me you weren’t convinced before I put a stop to his plans to get you alone.”

  “No,” she conceded. “I was sure Springer was ourman, but then two minutes into Jeremy Dane’s company—” She broke off, shuddering.

  Despite the somber conversation, Roman smiled wryly. “Is Dane the four-eyed creep who couldn’t keep his hands off you—the one you had drinks with the other night?”

  She nodded. “Cage says he has a New Jersey accent, and he’s lied about his employment. There’s no paper on him in this state under the name Jeremy Dane. And no prints on him in the national computer.”

  “So, he’s never served time and never been in any of the armed services.” Roman’s brows dipped as he grew thoughtful. “New Jersey gives him connections with Casale and Fabrizio. But he doesn’t look Italian.”

  “Neither does Cage, but his mother’s family are Northern Italian.”

  “As interesting as that is, I still say Springer is Loverboy. He tried getting you to leave with him almost as soon as he sat down. And he had enough time to get here ahead of me.”

  “Then you’re certain it wasn’t someone who followed us from McRory’s?”

  He tilted his head, considering. “Did you notice anyone following you?”

  She frowned, trying to recall. “No.”

  “Me, either. But then I wasn’t looking.”

  “Neither was I,” she admitted. Her mind had been on preventing him from finding out about the girls.

  She could see that realization dawning i
n his eyes. She turned away from the accusation transforming his features, and checked Maureen’s blanket.

  Choking down his resentment, Roman watched Kerrie’s tender machinations with the girls. Despite his anger and hurt, he could see she was a good mother. That she loved his children. He couldn’t fault her that, but by all that was holy, at this moment, he wanted to fault her for something. He narrowed the distance between them to inches. “You’re a smart woman, Irish, a good cop and a loving mother. So why the hell don’t you have a security system in this place? At least bars on that damned basement window?”

  He had whispered the words, but he might have shouted them for the harshness with which they struck her ears. She didn’t need to take this from him, wouldn’t take it from any other man. But she knew his concern rose from genuine roots. She wheeled to face him, startled to find him so close. Her chin hitched higher as she said softly, “Because I can’t afford one.”

  His heated gaze warmed her face. He dipped his head nearer. “I’ll pay for it.”

  Like hell you will! But the retort melted on her tongue. Pride wouldn’t keep her safe. Wouldn’t keep her babies alive and unharmed. Her chest tightened with fright No, after tonight, she’d accept a security system from any source who offered it “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”

  He blinked as if she’d slapped him, obviously not expecting her to acquiesce so easily, so quickly. “I’ll give you one thing, Irish, no one delivers a surprise better than you. I’ll see if I can get someone on it first thing in the morning.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  Why did he always have to stand so close? She was locked between the crib and his solid, vibrant body. He’d removed his leather jacket. Without it, he seemed stripped of a layer of armor, and yet she was the one feeling defenseless.

  “Meanwhile,” he drawled. “I’ll spend what’s left of this night on your sofa.”

  Her eyes widened. Her heart beat faster. The last thing she wanted was Roman Donnello within walking distance from her bed. Because despite everything, she ached to throw herself into his arms, to lose herself in his protective embrace, to let him lift her on an emotional tide of such magnitude it would wash aside all the horror, all the fear, everyone and everything, except him and the way only he could make her feel.

  “Your staying on my couch—” she wiped her moist palms against her skirt “—is not a good idea.”

  Kerrie brushed past him and ducked into the room across the hall. Her bedroom. Roman followed, shoving the door open as she tried shutting him out. He lurched across the threshold, pushed the door closed behind him, and caught her by the elbow, pulling her hard against him.

  She, glared at him.

  He glared back. “Dammit, Irish, we’re going to have to set aside our resentments until this is over. We have two little kids who are counting on us to keep them safe.”

  His chest heaved as if he’d run a great distance, his breath beating hot against her face, his warm fingers infusing his heat into her arm, holding back the chilling fog that threatened to envelop her life. Alone, she couldn’t see to put one foot in front of the other. Alone, she couldn’t find her way to safety. Alone, Loverboy would defeat her.

  “Are you going to swallow your damned pride and work with me on this?” Roman’s eyes glowed like golden beacons through the terrifying mist, offering her support and strength.

  Kerrie felt her resistance weakening. Only he under. stood exactly how she felt. Only he had as much at stake as she did. Only he had as much to lose. She needed him.

  Oh, God but she needed him.

  Every pore in her body tingled with that need. She drew a ragged breath, and never taking her eyes from his, reached her hands to his waist, and leaned into him until her chin rested on his chest.

  She felt him flinch, watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, his eyes questioning her intent He grasped her upper arms and tried disentangling himself. “You’re playing with fire. You don’t want this.”

  She hugged him harder. “Yes, I do.”

  He blinked, studied her face. “I won’t be gentle.” His whisper was husky.

  “Then don’t be.”

  Roman moaned, “Oh, Irish.”

  His arms went around her, his hands skidding across her hips, her bottom, up her back until they found her face and cupped it, a second later, his lips were on hers, his tongue probing her mouth. Pent-up passion burst through her, her body responding to Roman’s touch like an ignition stroked with the right key.

  She clung to him, caressing his wide back with her fevered hands, gyrating her hips against his, pressing her belly against his arousal, silently begging him to address the ache of desire that only he could spark in her, that only he could assuage.

  She gasped his name, encouraging him, “Please, Roman, please.”

  He moaned again, grasped her bottom harder. Pulling her closer, he bent sideways, and lifted the hem of her skirt. His fingers climbed her thigh, found the edge of her panties and pulled them down.

  She tugged his sweater up, revealing his washboard stomach, tanned and muscled, with an arrow of black hair spearing the center and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. She stroked his belly. It was silky and warm. Oh, so warm. She wanted that warmth inside her. She reached for his fly and began unbuttoning, her anxious fingers clumsy in the need to touch his naked flesh.

  The last button gave and she shoved his jeans down his hips, then his briefs, freeing his magnificent arousal at the same moment his probing fingers slipped inside her. Her pleasured gasp collided with his, and need became demand.

  Mindful of nothing and no one else, not even the houseful of investigators, they stumbled to the bed, and a moment later he was sliding between her parted thighs, filling her, huge and hard and hot, and every bit as wonderful as she remembered.

  She thrust her hips toward his, matching him stroke for stroke as the firestorm inside her burned out of control, raging through her veins, searing across her nerve endings, engulfing her, lifting her toward the sky, again and again, until it roared in her ears and burst like stars inside her eyes.

  Breathless, Kerrie lay sheltered beneath Roman, still clinging to him, not wanting this vital connection, this affirmation of life to end.

  “Kerrie Carleen?” Glynna rapped lightly on the door. “Are you in there?”

  Kerrie stiffened. Roman lurched off of her.

  “I’ll be out in a minute, Mom.” Kerrie grabbed the panties dangling from around her left ankle and tugged them on as Roman sprang off the bed and into his own pants.

  He stood, buttoning his fly and whispered, “I’m not going to pretend I understand what just happened, but it doesn’t change anything…right?”

  “Right.” Despite knowing their lovemaking was nothing more than lust that she had initiated, Kerrie was hurt. She stood and straightened her skirt and sweater, then quickly brushed her hair and checked her appearance in the mirror over the dresser. Roman didn’t love her, might wind up hating her when all was said and done. She’d better remember that. “It changes nothing.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Roman turned away from her. For a moment there, he’d almost thought she needed him. He should have remembered who he was dealing with. Tough cookie Kerrie Muldoon didn’t need anyone. Least of all the father of her children. He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s changed, Irish, is you. I’m not sure it’s for the better.”

  Kerrie felt as if he’d stuck a knife into her heart. She stiffened, lifted her chin. She’d be damned if she’d let him know it. “Don’t go soft and mushy on me, Donnello. The truth is, we both had an itch. Now it’s been scratched.”

  She yanked open her bedroom door. “Let’s see if Cage has found anything important.”

  Roman stared after her. An itch? Scratched? He dug his fingers through his hair and followed her into the kitchen. Sex without complications. Why should her attitude surprise him? She obviously didn’t need a permanent man in her life. He ough
t to be glad she felt that way. He wasn’t offering anything permanent He wasn’t husband material, any more than she was wife material.

  Besides, monogamy was not him.

  Roman settled his hip against the refrigerator, watching as she conferred with her partner, his mind distracted by the images still vivid in his head, by the feel of her that lingered on his hands, the scent of her that clung to his sweater, the taste of her on his tongue.

  He grabbed his coat off the kitchen chair, shrugged it on and glanced at Kerrie one more time. Sex without complications. Then why did he feel as if his appetite had just been whetted, not sated? As if his itch already needed another scratching? Why did he ache to kiss her until her lips were swollen and bruised, until she begged for the sweet release they’d just shared? Until she admitted that she needed him?

  What he needed right now was some air.

  “WE NEED SOME SLEEP,” Kerrie told her mother, placing the last of the dirty coffee cups into the dishwasher. Daylight was an hour away, dusting the kitchen window a soft gray. Everyone had left ten minutes earlier, everyone except the patrol cars parked out front and in back, everyone except Roman, who had insisted he’d sit in his car until dawn.

  Glynna lifted her right leg and scratched her heel. “Yes, the girls will be up soon.”

  They walked down the hall together, stopping at Kerrie’s bedroom. The door stood open. One look at the rumpled bed brought all the images of the wild lovemaking that had occurred there only an hour ago rushing into Kerrie’s mind. She could still feel Roman’s hands on her, his heat inside her, still smell his scent on her sweater.

  A blush warmed her cheeks, her blood. They’d been as rash as first-time lovers, as reckless as teenagers, as irresponsible as they’d been on the afternoon she’d conceived the twins. The thought staggered her. No, it couldn’t happen twice in a lifetime. The chances were too slim. The odds phenomenal.

  Kerrie bit her lip. She didn’t regret any of the passionate moments she’d shared with Roman. Nor would she punish herself longing for a future with him that was never going to happen. It was time she accepted that. Sweet memories would have to suffice, would have to warm her heart on cold lonely nights.