by Julie Miller
The scuffle beside Katie’s bed ended and the familiar smell of halitosis burned through her brain, waking her to the muted darkness of her room without fully rousing her from the dreamy meanderings of her thoughts. Didn’t they pay their electric bill in this place? Aunt Maddie was always so responsible about making sure the utilities were paid before anything else.
Her aunt might be a little challenged in the fashion department, but Katie had been working on her. She’d gotten her the golden highlights to soften her red hair. Introduced her to clothes that fit her full figure instead of hiding it. She’d learned all the practical, responsible, loyal things she knew from Maddie. In return, she’d taught her aunt a little about having fun and taking chances.
Oh, man, how she missed Maddie. An understanding smile. A big hug. A fierce protector. A true friend. Without ever giving birth, she was everything a mom should be. Everything Katie had hoped to become.
But that was before.
Something firm gripped her wrist and lifted it. “Her pulse is racing. I warned you to leave the doctoring to me.”
“Blow it out your ear. It’s your fault either one of them got out of here in the first place.”
Katie’s wrists were still bound, her bladder was full and the argument ensuing from either side of her blotted out fond thoughts of home. The tenderness in her breasts was finally subsiding, but the ache in her belly where Tyler used to be throbbed. Whether the pain was real or imagined, the emptiness inside her brought tears to her eyes.
“There. See? I told you she’d come around on her own.”
Was that the midwife’s voice? She’d been so kind during the delivery and had seen to all of Tyler’s needs.
Katie reached out to that voice.
“Help me. Please.” Her appeal sounded faint and scratchy to her own ears. Maybe no one had heard her.
Or the wrong person had.
Stinky Pete’s lips brushed against her temple as he whispered, “No one’s gonna help you, sweetheart, until you help us. Where’s the boy?”
Thank God. They still hadn’t found Tyler. Mr. Powers would keep him safe.
“Stand back, Morales.” A new voice joined the nightmare. It was articulate in enunciation, gravelly in tone and no kinder than the others. “You. Get out of here.”
It must be the voice of authority. The odors of garlic and sweat receded as the short, wiry man who answered to Morales moved away from the bed.
“Don’t let him give her anything else,” the woman’s voice requested. “She’s already too weak to put up any kind of fight, and I won’t have another kid’s death on my hands.”
“Go,” the authoritative voice repeated.
With a huffy sigh, the woman hurried out of the room, leaving Stinky Pete on Katie’s left and the voice of authority standing at the foot of her bed. Between unfocused eyes and the dim light of the room, Katie couldn’t make out the shape, age or even the gender of the figure silhouetted against the glare from the hallway. It could be a woman with a low-pitched voice or a man with a higher pitch. The only identifiable trait that got through her muddled brain was the odor of cigarette smoke wafting from the boss’s clothes.
“Miss Rinaldi, you’ve cost me a great deal of money. I provide a needed service for women in your unfortunate situation. I can’t allow the irresponsibility of one impulsive teenager to ruin my reputation or jeopardize that service. I have a client waiting for an infant boy. Your infant boy. Your little disappearing act has put me in an awkward position. It’s all about good business, you see. The clients create a demand and I supply what they need. Their money reimburses me for my investment.”
“Plus a nice profit,” Morales emphasized.
The boss nodded. “That is what makes it good business. But I can’t give them what they need or help anyone else in your position unless you cooperate with me.”
There were too many words for her foggy comprehension to get around. The boss could go screw himself. She wasn’t telling him what she’d done with Tyler. Katie rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball.
“I thought that might be your reaction. Bring him in.”
“Right, boss. Hey, Fitz!” Morales’s voice receded, leaving her alone to give into the sleep that wanted to claim her.
“You see, Miss Rinaldi, you can either do the mature, responsible thing and tell me where your son is so that you fulfill the terms of your contract with us—” the boss paused long enough that Katie roused herself to pay attention to the threat in his voice “—or I’ll be forced to resort to—how shall I say this?—less desirable tactics? There are other people besides yourself whose welfare you should consider.”
What other people? Whitney had escaped. Tyler was safe. Her mother was dead. The only family she had left was Aunt Maddie, and Katie had made sure to keep her aunt in the dark so she couldn’t be forced by the police or these lowlifes to tell them anything.
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s here, boss.”
“Invite him in.”
Morales was back, along with his hulking buddy, Fitz. And someone else. She tried to focus on the tall, narrow silhouette in the doorway. When she finally did, she sank back into the pillow and prayed that the oblivion would suck her in again.
Katie didn’t think her imprisonment could get any worse.
She was wrong.
“Hey there, Katie. Daddy’s home.”
Chapter Seven
“And I thought I’d had a bad day.”
Maddie paused at the bottom of the basement steps and watched Dwight duke it out with a giant punching bag suspended from a steel beam in the ceiling. The bag was losing.
He bounced on the balls of his feet, swiped the perspiration from his face with the back of his dark red glove and spared her a glance. “What do you need?”
“Some company?”
His stormy gaze raked her from head to ankle, taking note of the oversized terry cloth robe she’d borrowed from him to cover her old nightgown so they wouldn’t have any more misunderstandings if they should run into each other tonight. Dwight turned away, positioned his arms and punched the bag with an echo-absorbing thud that made her jump. “I don’t do chitchat. Go back to bed.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“You’re safe here tonight. Rinaldi doesn’t know your location. A black-and-white unit is parked out front. I’ve called in favors from detectives I know, so this house will be guarded 24/7.” He breathed deeply, expanding his chest before the bag absorbed another volley of punches. “And for what it’s worth, I’ve cleared my calendar for the week so I’ll be around to keep an eye on things, as well.”
He let loose a flurry of jabs and punches while he danced around the bag. Maddie flinched at the controlled violence, wondering at the fury of it even as she admired his strength and fluid coordination.
“Is that bag anyone in particular?” she asked, hearing her lame effort at a joke fall flat in the damp basement air.
Dwight stilled the swinging bag and glanced over his shoulder. “It’s called boxing. I do it for exercise—” he adjusted the gray sweats he wore around his waist “—and stress release.”
He rolled his neck to loosen some kinks, butted his knuckles together and resumed his methodical attack on the bag. Exercise, huh? More like exorcise.
Though she understood that he had dismissed her, Maddie shoved her hands deep into the pockets of the robe, where she’d tucked her cellphone and a tissue, and sat on the step to watch him work. It beat pacing the hallway upstairs or lying in bed, replaying the gruesome images from Karen’s murder and imagining what torturous way Joe would carry out the threat promised by those roses.
Whatever demons Dwight was laying to rest through this late-night workout, Maddie felt an unexpected release herself. It was more than a distraction from her troubled thoughts, though; it was a glimpse into a kindred spirit—another soul who had seen far too much ugliness in his life. Maddie doted on her family. She had her teaching and music to hel
p her cope. Dwight had his courtroom—and this subterranean hideaway to pummel away the loneliness and guilt.
This choreographed workout explained the sturdy boxer’s body beneath the suit and tie. The man had a little silver on top and some distinct lines beside his eyes and mouth that gave him an air of intellect and authority. But the strength and power of his shoulders and torso added a quality of danger that left Maddie battling with the instinct to keep her distance and the foolhardy urge to walk right up to him and be cradled against that chest.
Like this afternoon. And last night.
It had been ages since a man had held her. And none of those rare embraces had suffused her with the raw energy Dwight possessed. Dwight was definitely a man of contrasts. Tailored suits and bun-hugging sweatpants. Icy detachment and turbulent emotions. He wasn’t her protector by choice, but he’d gone out of his way to keep her safe.
Dwight Powers was a man she could truly be afraid of, and yet she wasn’t. With every punch that landed on the bag, she became more certain that he would never hurt her. Or Tyler. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to say the kid’s name or touch him, he would never intentionally do anything to harm Tyler—or allow him to be harmed.
“Where did you learn to box?” she asked.
“You don’t give up, do you?” Though he was shaking his head, he never varied his rhythm. “Mean streets of Chicago. The U.S. Army fine-tuned my skills.”
“You’re not from Kansas City?”
“No. Went to law school at Mizzou after my ROTC stint. Met my wife and moved to K.C. after graduation. Alicia was from here….” The workout came to an abrupt halt. Dwight grabbed the bag and stilled its rocking.
Maddie suspected his ragged breathing had as much to do with the deeply grooved frown that tightened his expression as it did with the fast-paced workout. She gripped the wall for balance and slowly rose to her feet.
“I’m sorry. It’s a shyness thing. I run on at the mouth when I get nervous and don’t know what to say. Sometimes I think it’s easier to keep talking than to get lost in the silence. But I didn’t mean to bring up a painful topic. I’m sorry.”
While she rambled on, he stripped off his gloves, reached for one of the white towels and turned to face her. “Get lost in the silence?”
She watched him blot the perspiration on his face and chest before rolling the towel and looping it around his neck. As his breathing evened out, hers seemed to catch and stutter. “Yes. Usually all these thoughts are spinning around inside my head. Worries, concerns—trying to figure out the right thing to say or do, wondering how others will react to what I say or do. Shy people can be quiet on the outside, but usually it’s pretty noisy in here. You can get lost inside your head with all that going on. Of course, I don’t seem to be having that problem tonight.”
He opened a bottle of water and drained half of it before taking a breath. Maddie tried to look away but couldn’t help being fascinated by the muscles working up and down his throat as he swallowed. “Do I make you nervous?”
Her gaze settled on two beads of condensation that trickled along his hand and forearm. Her skin seemed to catch fire and make the cozy robe seem unbearably warm. Oh, yeah. Definitely nervous.
Dwight had held her out of comfort this afternoon. He’d held her last night because he hadn’t been thinking straight after that nightmare.
She was the only one who kept forgetting that this unlikely alliance was for practical purposes. Not for any sense of attraction or compassion or… She closed her eyes. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. She opened them, vowing to keep her hormones in check. “I’m on edge about a lot of things lately.”
“That’s understandable.” He tossed the empty bottle into the trash and moved toward the stairs. “You get the kid to sleep?”
“Yes.” Maddie instinctively moved up a step as he approached. “I suppose we should do the same.”
“I suppose.” He stopped at the base of the stairs.
Standing two steps above him, she was only slightly taller. But his shoulders seemed to fill the stairwell, nearly side to side. She inhaled the essences of heat and soap rising off his skin.
His gaze hooded and dropped to her mouth. “What are you doing to me, Red?”
“I’m not doing…anything.” Her heart thudded in her chest. What was he doing? She’d come downstairs to find someone to talk to, a place to feel safe. But safe wasn’t exactly what those gray-green eyes were promising her right now. “I haven’t seen any pictures around the house. What was your wife—Alicia—like?”
Maddie retreated a step.
Dwight followed.
“Smart. Gorgeous. Exotic.”
And she thought plump and pale could compete with a memory like that? Maddie tucked a brassy lock behind her ear. She must be misreading his intentions. Wishful thinking.
She moved up a step. “I’m not anything like her.”
“No. You’re not.”
The closer he came, the more she rambled. “You know, I have to take umbrage with that. The smart part, I mean. I have two college degrees. I read almost anything I can get my hands on. I work with teenagers and they keep me current on the latest technology. Umbrage. That’s a funny word, don’t you think?”
Her back hit the doorjamb at the top of the stairs, trapping her. His strong, craggy face kept coming toward her. His lips moved in a growly whisper. “Shut up.”
Maddie braced a hand against his chest, tangling her fingers in damp terry cloth and crisp gold-and-silver hair. “That’s pretty damn rude, even for you.”
But his smile took away the offense. At least, she thought that was what the dimpling crease beside his mouth meant. “Sometimes silence is okay.”
When Dwight pressed his lips to hers, Maddie caught a startled breath. Then she couldn’t seem to exhale. His mouth was warm, firm. The tip of his tongue was as cold as the water he’d drunk a moment ago. He brushed it across the seam of her lips and urged her to open for him. She did.
Dwight was kissing her. Her. Maddie McCallister. Hair too red. Hips too full. Shy English schoolmarm who’d needed a teenage niece to move in with her to learn how to dress halfway pretty, halfway sexy, halfway…
His tongue slipped inside her mouth and Maddie gasped in startled delight. There was nothing halfway about her pulse hammering in her ears or the delicious tingle that teased the tips of her breasts and made them heavy with want. Instead of pushing him away, her fingers clutched at his slick skin and dug into the muscles beneath. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, angling her mouth to deepen the kiss. His palm rested against the side of her neck, caressing the pulse point and igniting a flame that bloomed along the surface of her skin and spread into her limbs, her toes, the very heart of her.
Last night, he’d wanted to kiss her. She’d wanted him to. But the baby had cried and he held back. The rejection had hurt and she’d pushed him away. Nothing was stopping him now. Nothing was stopping her.
Thoughts of toxic roses and missing loved ones and senseless deaths went silent for a few moments as her head filled with the scent of his skin, the taste of his lips, the heady knowledge of all that strength channeled into this gentle burst of passion.
The sound of the William Tell overture playing in her pocket.
“Damn.” Dwight cursed, shocking Maddie back to her senses. The phone.
“Umm…” Eloquent. She wasn’t used to functioning in the aftermath of a steamy kiss.
Dwight’s blunt fingers brushed across her sensitized lips as he pulled away. She was half a beat slower to release her death grip on his shoulders, and when she reached into her pocket, his hand was already there.
“Hey!” But he was already taking the last step into the kitchen. Maddie hustled after him. She snatched at his arm but came away with nothing. “Give me that.”
He read the Unknown Caller ID. “It might be Rinaldi.”
“It might be Katie.”
“It’s after frickin’ midnight, Maddie. I will answer it.”
He punched the talk button, his face a grim mask. “Yes?” His brow furrowed. Maddie clutched the robe together at her neck, feeling the fire of Dwight’s kiss quickly abandoning her. “Who is this?”
“Can I answer my own phone?”
“Dwight Powers.” Maddie stood in front of him, studying every flicker of expression on his face. His jaw tightened like a fist and he swore.
“What?”
He scrubbed his palm across his beard stubble and turned away. Oh, that was so not a good sign. “You’re sure?”
Her chill seemed to be catching. She lay a hand on his forearm and he shivered. “Dwight?”
“I’ll tell her.” He glanced down at her fingers, maybe evaluating the difference between her tentative touch now and her needy grab a few moments ago on the stairs. “Yeah, we’ll be there.”
The instant he disconnected, she asked. “Tell me what?”
He handed her the phone. “That was the medical examiner, Holly Masterson.”
“Is it about the police officer Joe killed?”
As always, Dwight made no effort to sugarcoat the truth. “She’s got a Jane Doe she’d like you to take a look at to see if you can identify her.”
Oh, no. Please, God, no. Maddie backed away until her hips bumped the counter and she had nowhere else to go. The intense focus of those gray-green eyes locked on to hers was the only thing keeping her standing.
She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to know the answer. “Why call me?”
“It’s the body of a teenage girl.”
COOPER BELLAMY MADE the funkiest damn baby-sitter Dwight had ever seen. The kid had more hair than he did. But with a Glock on his belt and a burp rag over his shoulder, the detective had finally given Maddie enough reassurance that they could leave and get this hellish task over with.
Dwight steered his Mercedes through rush hour traffic to the southern edge of the city, where the main crime lab was located. The sun had come up with an unforgiving intensity, turning the pavement hot and raising chimeras of heat that reminded him of kissing Maddie.
He didn’t regret a second of that kiss, though he knew he damn well should. She’d looked so vulnerable, sitting there on the steps, drowning in his robe, her blue eyes luminous with fatigue and worry. The same blue eyes that, moments later, had darkened with interest as he put his old body through its paces.
