by Kylie Brant
“And now you’ll return them.”
“Actually—” time to tread lightly here “—I believe I said I’d tell you where they are. I did. Won’t do you any good, though, because I have the key.” Muscles tense, he prepared himself for temper. He wasn’t disappointed.
She came off the pillows to slap both hands against his chest and give him an ungentle push. “I’m not going to be bullied by the likes of you, Langley. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now, and I don’t need you trying to call the shots.”
“Done a damn fine job of it, too,” he said mildly. “If you don’t count that psycho killer on your heels.” Quick reflexes saved him from her first punch. But her sneaky left jab landed in his gut before he managed to capture both wrists in one of his hands. When she would have struggled he simply leaned over her, trapping her hands between their torsos.
“Think I don’t know you plan on taking off the minute my back is turned?” The mutinous flash in her eyes told him he’d nailed her intentions dead on. “It’s a race you can’t win, don’t you get that? With the money he’s got, he has resources at his disposal you can’t outrun. Someday you’re going to turn around and he’s going to be standing there with a gun aimed at your head. And that will be the end.”
“And what are the alternatives? Wait around until someone I care about gets killed instead? I’ve played those cards before, remember?” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. “As long as Niko’s focused on me, he isn’t hurting anyone else. I can live with that.”
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other.” There had to be another way. He needed time to think, dammit, and being pressed up against Lindsay this way wasn’t exactly conducive to productive brain functioning. He could feel her breasts brush his skin with each shallow rise and fall of her chest and the sensation hurtled him back to earlier that day when there’d been nothing between them. Just skin pressed against skin. Heat to heat.
He shifted uncomfortably. That was definitely not the direction his thoughts should be taking right now. “While we’re waiting on ballistics we can contact the airports. Get their passenger manifests. If we can prove Rassi is here, once you tell your story to the captain he’ll issue a BOLO, and the guy won’t move without alerting someone on the force.” He’d have to find a place to stash Lindsay in the meantime. With someone watching her so she didn’t run and so Rassi couldn’t get to her.
Of course, he mused, if the prick had used a false ID to hop a plane, they’d have to wait on ballistics to verify his presence in Metro City. Unless…
“Quickest way to convince the captain is to show him the photos on that memory card.”
“That’ll be tough, since it’s in New York. Safe.” When he sent her a narrowed look, she glared back at him. “By not carrying it with me, I still had a bargaining chip if Niko ever found me. To buy me time.”
Smart, he thought grudgingly. He’d never denied she was smart. Although from what he’d heard, Rassi would take great pleasure in torturing the location of the card from her. A phone call to one of his flunkies back in New York and he’d have what he wanted. And Lindsay would be of no more use to him.
There was no point in running that scenario for her. So, he’d work the details out tonight. Maybe give Dace a call after Lindsay fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Bounce a few ideas off him.
As if reading his thoughts, she said, “You have to promise that Jolie and Dace won’t hear about this.”
Something tightened inside him. “Ever think what this would have done to them if you’d left without a word? Jolie would have been out of her mind. As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate right now.”
The sheen that came to her eyes then, knowing he’d put it there, had remorse stabbing through him. Her body heaved beneath his, as she battled to free her hands. “Do you think I don’t know that? That I haven’t thought of it? I should have left days ago. I knew it was time to move on. And I also knew it was a mistake to have ties. Friends are a vulnerability I can’t afford.”
He subdued her easily, held her until she finally went limp. Her face turned away, but he could still see the struggle for control. Watched her fight that battle inch by inch and win. And it stirred a new emotion inside him that was as unusual as it was foreign. Respect.
Her voice, when it came, was low. Almost defeated. “Anyone I care about can be used against me. Niko proved that in New York. That’s why I haven’t contacted my family through all of this. That was the first place he’d look for me. But he can’t use them to get to me if I’m not in touch. What would be the point of hurting them if I didn’t know? I check the town newspaper on the Internet occasionally. They’re all still safe. And they’ll stay that way as long as I don’t reach out. Just like Jolie and Dace will be once I’m gone.” Her eyes met his then. “And you.”
There was the slightest tremble to her full lower lip on those final words. And he wanted, desperately, to cover it with his own. Because the mental image of her drifting from one town to the next, always looking over her shoulder, never letting anyone too close, branded itself on his mind. Had something clutching inside his chest.
He needed to keep a clear head. The sliver of logic pierced the emotion clouding his judgment. There was a fraction of an inch between their mouths. He could feel every breath she released. And his muscles went tense with the inner struggle raging through him.
The last thing he needed right now was to fog the issue with sex. Because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind where a kiss would lead. He’d already had a taste of Lindsay and he knew he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had her stripped beneath him. Not until he was buried deep inside her again.
He clenched his jaw, damned his hormones. “You want to protect us. But you won’t let anyone try and protect you.”
The tip of her tongue moistened her lips and his body jerked in response. “You can’t change my mind. I promised myself thirty-eight months ago that no one else was going to die because of me. That would be unforgivable.”
He shifted, drew her hands above her head. And froze for a moment at the position of his body over hers. Too close to the way he imagined. Much too close.
He felt her body soften. Her eyelids lowered, her lips parting softly. He hauled in a breath, fought a fierce battle for willpower. “No more unforgivable than this.”
Her eyes snapped open at the exact moment he closed the bracelet around her wrist. Locked it. He had the good sense to move swiftly out of the way before Lindsay bolted upright, pulling at the handcuff securing her to the headboard.
“Langley! You bastard!”
“Among other things.” He rolled to the side of the bed and rose, carefully, his body a riot of clamoring urges. He didn’t trust himself to look at her, so he rounded the bed, headed for the door. “I figure you’ll be good and pissed by morning. But you’ll still be alive. For now, I’ll settle for that.”
Chapter 10
Jack leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb of Lindsay’s bedroom door and watched her sleep. There was a slight frown between her brows, as if even slumber hadn’t muted her temper. He wouldn’t doubt it. She’d been as angry as he’d ever seen her. Couldn’t blame her there.
He sipped from the mug of coffee he’d brought for her. He’d already drunk two cups waiting for her to wake up. Of course, given the day she had yesterday, she ought to be comatose for hours yet. She ought to be a lot of things.
That she’d managed to evade a professional assassin for three years was nothing short of a miracle. But he didn’t kid himself that it had come without a price. No friends. No contact with family. A new city and a new identity every few months. What the hell kind of life was that?
A lonely one. Jack’s hand tightened on the mug. One full of fear and paranoia. And one destined to come to a very bad end if she kept on running. A woman living off the grid was vulnerable in a host of ways. Especially one who didn’t trust the police. Rassi wasn’t the only danger Lindsay’d had to worry about.
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But not anymore. One way or another, she was through running.
It’d take some careful finessing. He scratched his jaw absently, was reminded he hadn’t yet shaved. The favor he’d called in earlier this morning had already gotten the ball rolling. Jack didn’t know anyone in ballistics, but Steve Riley, a buddy from the academy, did, and Riley owed him one. His friend had promised to get the analysis fast-tracked. If the markings on the shell casing and the bullets matched those in the database for the New York victims, at the very least it gave them a link to a contract killer.
Didn’t give them Rassi, since the NYPD had only supposition about his activities. His name on an airline manifest would help, but that couldn’t be counted on.
The photos would be the kicker. But until they could get to them he was betting Captain Telsom would be interested enough in Lindsay’s story to arrange protection. He just had to figure out how to make her stay put long enough to accept it. Although the idea of keeping her handcuffed to one of his beds was not without charm, it wasn’t feasible for the long term.
Be hard to explain to Telsom, for one thing. Especially since he’d assured him there was nothing personal between him and Lindsay.
He crossed one bare foot over the other and watched her sleeping form broodingly. It wasn’t a lie. Not technically. Yeah, okay, so he was a little wrapped up in keeping her alive. He was a cop. That’s what he did. And maybe they’d only known each other four days, but it’d been a helluva four days. With all the baggage she was carrying, he was bound to feel…protective. He took another sip of her coffee, satisfied with the word. Yeah, that was it exactly. There wasn’t a woman alive who could get to him this fast. But life and death had a way of intensifying a situation until it was hard to separate the drama from stickier emotions. He just had to keep that in mind.
Lindsay stirred once. Then her eyes opened, instantly focused, alert and fixed on him. And the punch-in-the-gut sensation he got made a mockery of his earlier thoughts.
He held up the mug like the peace offering it was. “I brought you coffee.”
“Do you feel like wearing it?”
Since he didn’t especially, he stayed where he was. “Still mad, huh?”
“Unless you’re wearing a cup, I wouldn’t advise coming over to see.” The glare she shot him would take the strongest man out at the knees. “The only thing I want from you is the key to these.” She held up her wrist as much as she was able.
Since she didn’t seem interested in the coffee, he took another drink. “We need to come to an agreement.”
“You mean like where I don’t report you for kidnapping and false imprisonment in return for my gun and money?”
“I mean where you agree to accept police protection.” He forestalled what was certain to be a hot response by adding, “Because if the only way to keep you safe is to lock you up until you come to your senses, that can be arranged.”
She scooted up in bed and shoved her free hand through her mussed hair. His eyes tracked the movement. He’d taken her to bed, but he’d never slept with her. Never wakened with her. She looked good, all rumpled, mussed and riled. It was all too easy to imagine being in that bed with her. Being the one to smooth that heavy fall of hair back from her face and kiss the sulk from her lips.
With effort, he brought his mind back to the matter at hand. “The way I see it, I’ve got a problem.”
“And yet I’m the one wearing handcuffs. Go figure.”
“I’ve got to go to work. And since I can’t trust you to be here when I get back, we’ve got two choices. You can agree to come in and tell Captain Telsom what you told me last night.” He thought it best to ignore the rude sound she made at that. “Or I can haul you in and lock you up.”
Lindsay gaped at him. “For what? Accepting ‘hospitality’ from a lunatic?”
“Carrying a concealed weapon without a permit. False identification.” He noted the flicker of expression on her face and pressed, “Unless you’re ready to tell the captain what you told me, you can’t be identified. For all we know you could be a felon. Might have a record. Could take a while to sort it all out.”
He fancied he could hear her grinding her teeth. “You already figured out who I was, remember?”
Cocking his head, he said, “Did I? Don’t seem to recall that. Bet it would take a day or two to rediscover it.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m trying to keep you alive. You could stay here, where Rassi can’t find you. Or you can stay behind bars, where he can’t get at you. Either way works. Your choice.”
The suggestion she made then was imaginative, if unladylike. He grinned. “Don’t make me get the soap.” He heard the distinctive ring of his cell downstairs. “Take a few minutes to think it over.”
“Don’t you walk out here. Jack! Unlock these handcuffs first!”
Jogging down the stairs, he considered that he’d better step outside to take the call. If the caller overheard what Lindsay was shouting after him, it could be difficult to explain.
But the short phone conversation that ensued managed to douse his earlier humor. Sober, he retraced his steps and returned to the spare bedroom. One look at his expression and whatever snotty remark she’d been about to make slid down her throat.
“What is it?”
“That was Darrell, our PPA. He just fielded a phone call from a woman claiming to be your mother.”
The emotions flashing over her expression were easily identified. Shock. Disbelief. Joy. And most puzzling, wariness. “What did she say?”
“That you’d been missing for years and she’d recently learned the Metro City PD knew of your whereabouts. Darrell said he’d take a message and get it to the appropriate detective. He must have found out that was me.”
“She didn’t say anything else?”
“Not that he mentioned.”
She took a deep breath, released it slowly. “Call him back.”
Her reaction was puzzling. “You don’t want to talk to your mom first?”
“Not until I find out how she discovered I’m in California.”
To humor her, he pulled out his cell and pressed Redial. “Lindsay, your face was on CNN, remember? Unless you’re going to tell me they don’t have TVs in Wisconsin, it’s pretty easy to figure out how she knew where to find you.”
“Unless things have changed in the last half dozen years, TV isn’t allowed in our house.”
“Darrell.” Jack crossed to the bed, sat down beside Lindsay. “The call you took earlier regarding Grace Feller? She’s right here and would like to ask you a few questions about it.” He handed the cell to Lindsay and dug the key to the cuffs out of his pocket. He fit it into the lock and released them, while listening to her end of the conversation.
“Could you tell me everything she said? Please?” The strain in her voice was evident. She was silent as her hand was freed, listening intently. Then the color drained from her face with a suddenness that sent alarm spiking through him.
He frowned, reached to take the phone from her unresisting fingers. “Yeah, Darrell? I’m going to take lost time for a couple hours. I’ll be in around ten.” He disconnected the call, his attention focused on Lindsay.
She looked like she’d been sideswiped by a cement truck. And there was a dazed numbness to her expression that he didn’t trust. Jack took both her hands in his and rubbed them gently. “What’s wrong, baby? What’d he tell you?”
“What you said.” The words were faint. Her eyes distant. “And that Mom told him she’d gotten a call. They never did get a TV.” Her voice trailed off. “Plenty of work on a dairy farm, and what time’s left is for homework and the Bible.”
Because she looked like she could use the support, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “That’s not what has you looking like you saw a ghost. Who called her? A neighbor?”
“A man claiming to be a friend of mine. Said he’d been in contact with me here. Had shown me
some of his engravings. And that he hoped to get a sample to them real soon.”
“Son of a bitch.” Jack could see the exact instant when the numbness wore off and left stark reality in its place. Lindsay’s body sagged against him, as if folding in on itself. His other arm came up to cradle her close to his chest. But he was fresh out of comforting things to say.
Rassi’s threat couldn’t have been more obvious.
She shuddered against him, silent streams of tears tracing down her face. A vise squeezed inside his chest. Her soundless weeping carved at his insides, hollowing out his gut. A woman’s tears always left him feeling helpless. Lindsay’s made him feel like smashing something. Anything that would put her world right again.
“He’s not going to win,” he murmured, lips brushing her hair. Tightening his arms around her, he rocked her a little, calming them both. “We’re aren’t going to let the bastard win.”
It might have been a minute. Could have been ten. But soon enough Lindsay straightened, strained against his hold. Jack dropped his arms, brushed at the dampness on her cheek with his thumb.
There was a terrible grimness to her eyes when she looked up at him. “I need to speak to your captain.”
Lindsay didn’t know what Jack had told Captain Telsom over the phone, but apparently it had been enough to convince the man to come here to interview her, instead of her going downtown. He’d said very little as she’d relayed her story, and it was impossible to get a read on him. Other than a few terse questions, some for her and others directed at Jack, he’d mostly listened. And now that she’d finished, she leaned back on the cushion of the couch, a sense of urgency taking root in her stomach.
“And you’ve got verification from NYPD on this guy?” The captain’s statement was directed at Jack, who nodded.
“Right before you arrived I heard from ballistics. The bullets CSU recovered yesterday matched those taken out of eleven victims in the New York City area in the last five years. NYPD suspect Rassi is behind the hits at the direction of the Portino family there. But they’ve never gotten close to tying him to any of the homicides.”
