by Lori Foster
Put that way... Mick shook Josh off and paced across the parking lot. Heat rose from the blacktop in waves, adding to his frustration, making him sweat.
His first sight of Delilah in the interrogation room had showed her to be wilted, stunned. By the time she’d walked out she’d mustered up a bit of stiff-backed pride. But the incredible vibrancy that he’d thought an integral part of her had been gone. He shook his head, wanting to dispel the image of her beautiful blue eyes clouded with distress. “I was...sick when I got done talking to Rudy.”
“Sick and stupid,” Josh sneered.
Zack grabbed Josh. “Will you knock it off! This isn’t helping, and to be frank, I’m beginning to be a bit suspicious of your interest myself.”
Josh glared at him, then at Mick’s questioning gaze. Finally, he shrugged. “If Mick wasn’t interested in her, I’d have been hot on her trail. So what?”
Already on a short fuse, Mick exploded. “You miserable son of a—”
This time Zack had to leap between them, shoving at both men hard to keep them from coming to blows. “You’re both causing a scene, damn it!”
Around Zack’s body, Josh taunted, “What’s it matter to you, buddy? You just threw her away.” And then, as if that wasn’t enough to curdle Mick’s blood, he added, “I think I’ll go console her.”
Another struggle ensued, while Zack did his best to keep the two of them apart. Josh, muttering a sound of disgust, finally gave up and stepped away. “Fine, you still want her? Well then, go after her. But listen to her. And don’t you dare make her cry again.”
Mick, red in the neck and teeth gnashing, subsided as well. He didn’t really want to take his rage out on a friend. It took him several moments, but he finally got the words out. “You honestly think there might be another explanation?”
They both nodded at him. Josh said, “I believe in her. She may be good at coming up with elaborate plots for her books, but she’d never hurt someone she cared about.”
Mick wondered if, after what he’d just put her through, he could still be counted among those she cared for.
“And no way,” Zack added, “would she take a chance on innocent people getting caught in the cross fire just for publicity.”
Mick groaned, hearing the ring of truth in their words. Josh walked away from them both and went to stand near a telephone pole. Zack squeezed Mick’s uninjured shoulder. “Yep, I’m afraid you might have blown it. Better to get there as quick as you can and start your apologies. If you give her too much time to consider what you’ve done, she may not be able to forgive you.”
Mick stared at his feet. “I can’t imagine what explanation there could be. Rudy knew things that no one should have known.”
“It would be easy enough for him to guess that you were sleeping together. That doesn’t take an Einstein.”
“He knew...details. Specific details that went beyond—”
“I understand,” Zack rushed to say, before Mick could stumble on. But Mick noticed there was a gleam of curiosity in his eyes, too.
He straightened. “I’ll give her a chance to talk to me, one on one. And I hope like hell you’re right, that she can clear this all up.”
“Ha. I think you better do more than that. You better get down on your knees.”
Mick glared at him, but as he walked away, he didn’t rule out the possibility of begging. He’d never felt so miserable in his life—not when Angel had been threatened and he knew he couldn’t protect her, not even when his mother had died in a stranger’s shack, an empty whiskey bottle beside her. No, the thought of losing Delilah was a gnawing ache that kept expanding and sharpening until his guts felt on fire and his chest threatened to explode.
Even if she had been in on the scheme, he didn’t want to lose her. He’d find a way to keep her out of jail, keep her straight, even if that meant keeping her in bed, under him, from now on.
Before he reached his car, he was running.
It occurred to him with a blinding flash of insight that if his friends were right, if Delilah was in fact innocent, he’d just left her alone and vulnerable. Anything could happen to her.
He stepped on the gas and made it to her apartment in record time.
* * *
Josh saw Zack glaring at him and he grinned, though his grin felt more sickly than not. “What?”
“Don’t use that innocent tone on me. What the hell were you thinking?”
Forcing a chuckle, Josh shook his head. “I just worked him into a lather. He needed to be shook up or he’d have stood around here pondering all the possibilities, and by the time he realized we were right, it would have been too late. I saved him some time and heartache, that’s all.”
“So everything was an act? You’re not hung up on her?”
Josh winked, and lied through his teeth. “Not at all. You know I like to play the field.”
“Huh. I know you’ve never had a woman show complete and utter disinterest in you before.”
“True.” Delilah had gone from not noticing him, to grudgingly accepting him as Mick’s friend, to displaying a fondness that bordered on sisterly. From the start, she’d made her preferences known, and it had been Mick all the way. Josh laughed. “I tell ya, I can live without it ever happening again.”
Zack turned to look at the road. “I hope Mick doesn’t kill himself getting over there.”
“I just thought of something,” Josh said, and reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt. “Since we both know Delilah didn’t have any part of sharing that information, someone must have been spying on them.”
“But how?” Zack asked. “Mick claims it was very personal in-the-bedroom stuff.”
Josh grinned. “Yeah, I wish he’d elaborated on that.” Zack laughed, never guessing exactly how big a lie that was. The last thing Josh wanted to hear was the personal sexual details between them. It ate him up.
Delilah, with her contrary ways and openness and brutal honesty, had stolen a piece of his heart. It was the damnedest thing he’d ever experienced, and while he was thrilled all to hell and back for Mick, he couldn’t help wishing that he’d found her first.
He shook off his melancholy. Right now, all he wanted was for Mick and Delilah to be happy, and that meant Mick had to get her to forgive him. To that end, Josh wanted to figure out what had gone wrong.
“You think someone could have seen in through the bedroom window somehow?”
“I don’t know,” Josh admitted, “but I know who could find out.”
Awareness lit Zack’s eyes. “Alec?”
“You betcha.” He punched in a series of numbers and waited until the call was answered. “Alec Sharpe, please. Yeah, it’s an emergency.”
Only a few seconds passed before Alec took the phone. “Sharpe here.”
It would have taken far too long to explain, so Josh merely said, “Hey, Alec, this is Josh. Mick is kind of in trouble and you need to get over to Delilah’s apartment.”
To Josh’s surprise, Alec didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask for details of any kind. He said only, “I’m on my way,” and the line went dead.
Zack looked at Josh as he closed the cell phone. “Well?”
Josh shrugged. “He, uh, he doesn’t say much, does he? But he’s heading over there now.” He glanced at his watch. “Figuring he was at the office, I think it’ll take him about forty-five minutes.”
Zack frowned in thought. “With what I’ve heard about Alec, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made it in thirty.”
Then they stared at each other. Josh shifted, looked up at the broiling afternoon sun and then the glare off his car’s windshield. He propped his hands on his hips and tilted his head at Zack. “You got anywhere you need to be?”
After glancing at his watch, Zack said, “Not for a few more hou
rs. Dani was going to the pizza parlor after the movie.”
They’d been friends so long, they often shared thoughts without words being spoken. “Think we should?” Josh asked.
Neither one answered, then in unison they said, “We should.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mick sat out front for several minutes, stewing in his own misgivings. He hated to admit how much he hoped, prayed, that Delilah could come up with an alternate explanation. Even now he wanted to hold her, to tuck her close and tell her everything would be all right, that he’d keep her safe and keep scum like Glasgow away from her.
He groaned. It was entirely possible that she’d set up the whole robbery, that he’d gotten shot because of her.
It was even probable, given the facts at hand.
Cowardly bastard, he accused himself, and jerked his car door open. He’d face the outcome, whatever it might be, just as he’d faced everything in his life, good and bad.
He took the concrete steps two at a time. The long flight of stairs leading to the upper level didn’t slow him down, either. He bounded up them, anxious to speak to Delilah, to figure things out.
He started to knock, then decided to use the key she’d given him. She might refuse to let him in under the circumstances, so he unlocked the door and stepped quietly inside.
The apartment was silent, causing his instincts to scream. Mick reached to the small of his back and pulled out his gun. He’d armed himself right after seeing Rudy in the hospital. He hadn’t worn the gun before that because he hadn’t wanted to make Delilah suspicious, and he was only a mediocre shot with his left hand. But he’d felt naked without it.
Every light in her apartment blazed, and things were scattered everywhere—boxes on the floor, cushions pulled loose from the sofa.
Fear for her clawed at him. Mick crept forward, away from the open door, then quickly ducked as the chopping block from the kitchen whooshed past him, barely missing his head. It fell to the floor with a clatter, the wood neatly splitting down the middle. He whirled and aimed.
Thrown off balance by the impetus of the attack, a small body tumbled forward and landed against his chest, warm and familiar. Mick automatically raised his gun to the ceiling while catching her.
He and Delilah stared at each other.
Slowly, Mick lowered his arm to his side, watching her warily. She stepped back and away from him, then covered her mouth, breathing hard. “Ohmigod.” Her fingers over her open mouth trembled. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
All color had leached from her face. Her eyes appeared huge and distressed. Everything inside Mick melted, all the suspicions and the worry and the anger temporarily replaced by the need to protect her. “Are you all right?”
Seconds ticked by while they stared at each other. She shook her head again. “No.”
That was all she said before turning away and heading for her bedroom. Obviously, no one else was in the apartment, given the way she went about her business.
Mick followed her into her room, and the first thing he saw was the suitcase opened on the bed, partially packed.
His knees locked; his healing shoulder pounded with a renewed ache. “You going somewhere?”
She didn’t look at him again, though her face remained pale and he could see her hands trembling. “Yes.”
His throat tightened. “Where?”
“I can’t tell you in here.”
A frown pulled at his brows. “In here in the bedroom?” he asked, perplexed by her odd behavior.
She shifted impatiently. “No, here in my apartment.”
“You heard what Faradon told you.” He strode toward her, uncertain but determined. He wouldn’t let her get away from him. “You’re not to leave.”
Her scathing glance stopped him in his tracks. “I can’t very well stay here. But don’t worry. I’m not skipping town. I’ll still be around for you to persecute.”
“Prosecute,” he corrected automatically, then caught himself, realizing she’d said it on purpose. He clenched his teeth, counting to ten. Attempting a softer, more reasonable tone, he said, “I don’t want to prosecute or persecute you, babe.”
She went to her dresser, picked up an armload of items and dropped them haphazardly into the suitcase. “Get out of my way,” she said as she started past him to the hallway. “What are you doing here, anyway? And why are you creeping around with your gun out? Were you going to shoot me?”
She didn’t wait for an answer to that outrageous insult, but marched into the hall.
“You know damn good and well I wouldn’t shoot you! I wouldn’t do anything to—”
“Hurt me?” She stopped abruptly. “It’s a little too late to make that claim, isn’t it?”
“Delilah...”
In a hurry to finish packing, she rushed off. Was she leaving her apartment rather than throw him out? Did she think he intended to stay with her still?
Actually, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but the idea of leaving her, of not having her next to him at night, her soft body his to touch, her gentle breath warming him, gave him a lost, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He put his gun away, then knotted his hands to keep from reaching for her. She looked...breakable. Fragile.
She stopped in the middle of the floor, as if uncertain what to do next. Her gaze landed on her computer, and she dove toward it with a purpose, quickly pulling cords and disconnecting the monitor.
Mick used that opportunity to clasp her shoulders. Touching her made him feel better. “Delilah, listen to me.”
She jerked away so violently, she almost lost her balance. “Don’t touch me,” she said in alarm, her eyes huge and round and filled with wariness. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
They watched each other in silence. Mick was the first to finally speak. “Tell me what’s going on.”
For a long minute, she stared at her hands. “All right.” She took a deep breath, met his gaze defiantly. “I fell in love with you. I trusted you. I knew it was too soon for that, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. And you’ve broken my heart. I really don’t think I can ever forgive you.”
Her words were damn difficult to take, filling him with elation—because she loved him—and the heavy weight of sadness, because he didn’t know if he could do anything about it. He chose his words carefully, watching her, gauging her reaction. “Because I turned you in?”
Her eyes closed and a tiny, very sad smile appeared. “No, because you’d think that about me at all.” She looked at him again. “Here I was, letting myself go crazy for you, and you hadn’t really learned anything about me at all.”
The need to hold her was a live thing. He barely resisted it. “Can we back up just a bit?” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Why are you in such an all-fired hurry to leave now?”
She gave a broken sigh. “And here I thought you were so smart. Smart and brave and honorable.” She reached for his hands and enfolded them in her own. Leaning so close he thought she would kiss him, she whispered near his ear, “I didn’t tell anyone anything. I figure you didn’t, either. That means my place has to be bugged.”
Mick stood there, stupefied, watching her lean back, watching her wait for his reaction. Bugged?
A stillness settled over him, slowing his heartbeat, squeezing his lungs. Of course her place was bugged.
But it would have to be worse than that. Just listening wouldn’t have given anyone such specific details of their first night together. No, that was something that had to be seen, too.
Almost in slow motion, Mick looked around, heart pounding with acceptance. He caught Delilah by the shoulders. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“To my car. I want you out of here.”
She dug in
her heels, resisting his efforts. “I’m not your responsibility anymore. I can take care of myself, just like I’ve always done.”
“We can’t talk here,” he insisted.
And she added with a note of sadness, “We don’t need to talk anywhere. We’re through.”
He hadn’t been willing to accept that when he’d thought her an accomplice; no way in hell would he accept it knowing she was innocent and in danger. And he didn’t doubt her now, not at all. Maybe he was too anxious to find an alternate explanation, one that didn’t incriminate her in any way. But this time he was going by his heart, by his guts, not by his damn pride or his conscience.
He gripped her shoulders tighter, opened his mouth—and heard someone say, “Am I interrupting?”
They both whipped around, and Mick shoved Delilah behind him. Alec lounged in the doorway, one black brow quirked in question, his equally black eyes speculative.
Mick caught Delilah’s hand, dragged her resisting behind him, and stepped out into the hallway. Without a word, Alec followed. They moved to a corner and there, where no one could possibly hear, Mick asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Josh called and said you needed my help.” He looked at Delilah, his gaze speculative. “What’s going on?”
“Damn.” Mick quickly explained the possibilities to Alec. Several times Delilah tried to wiggle her hand away from him, but he held tight, and she seemed reluctant to make a scene.
Alec didn’t appear the least surprised by any of it, but then he was a specialist when it came to espionage equipment. “Probably a Minicam,” he said. He put his large hand on the side of Delilah’s neck and bent to look her in the eyes. “You okay?”
She didn’t so much as glance at Mick. “I’ll survive.”
Alec considered that, holding her gaze for a stretch of time, then shook his head. “I think you should go on home with Mick. Let me check things over here and... No?”
She shook her head. “I’m not going home with Mick.”
“Yes, you are,” Mick told her. “Alec, I just need a sec to talk to her.”
