Kansas City Countdown

by Julie Miller

  Keir paused in the foyer at his father’s deep sigh.

  “My first post was in the UK and I met your mother the second day I was there. I didn’t need to be an intelligence officer to know I’d found the one. The third day I told her so and she said she already knew. So much for waiting until the time was right to settle down.”

  Keir loved hearing these stories about his parents before he was born, but he understood the underlying parental advice being offered, as well. “Dad, I didn’t call to talk about my love life.”

  “I know. Maybe I’m just thinking about your mom tonight. She died on a stormy night like this.”

  Keir felt a pang of melancholy as he recalled the beautiful woman with the lilting Irish accent.

  “You know we lost her way too soon. Makes me glad I didn’t waste any time sowin’ those oats and not being with her.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t, either.”

  “Love you, son.”

  “Love you, too, Dad.” Keir disconnected the call and pulled up the tail of his untucked shirt to stuff the phone into his jeans.

  He smiled at the memories of his mother playing in the tree house with him, and sitting in her lap as she read him a bedtime story. He grinned as he checked the lock on the front door and peeked through the side windows to make sure the security lights were shining through the trees along the curving driveway down to the gate. He remembered the time-outs alone in his room his mother had given him when he didn’t mind her rules. For a social kid, it was a dire punishment for the few minutes it lasted. And to be denied one of his mother’s pastries with hand-whipped cream because he’d “borrowed” Liv’s dollhouse and painted it with camouflage to be a base for his action figures? Yeah. He missed his mom tonight, too.

  Keir shut off the foyer light and headed up the stairs. How many memories had been stolen from Kenna? Although she seemed to have a better recollection of the distant past than of more recent events, she must feel violated to have something as personal as a memory stolen from her.

  He reached the landing and turned to see a light shining through Kenna’s open door. What aversion did that woman have to sleeping? He wondered if she’d developed a taste for sleeping with a long, warm body nestled against her as quickly as he had last night. Picking up the fresh scent of the citrusy shampoo she used, he knocked and walked into her bedroom. “Kenna?”

  He found her inside her closet, staring at the rows of shoes displayed on the shelves of a floor-to-ceiling rack. “What happened to my other shoe?”

  She’d showered and was wearing those funny blue pajama pants again. Her damp hair was a shade darker, like sweet latte, and it was making little wet spots above the swell of each breast on her turquoise T-shirt. The marks on her face had been cleaned and were open to the air, highlighting her classic bone structure like badges of honor. She was barefoot like he was, and Keir’s heart constricted at the regal beauty that couldn’t be compromised by stitches or Dr. Who pants.

  “Find the shoe, find the man.” She stopped counting off sexy heels and running shoes and turned to face him. “He has it, doesn’t he—some weird kind of souvenir or trophy like the notches in that killer’s belt buckle?”

  Keir splayed his hands at his waist, glad he’d untucked his shirt earlier so the long tails masked the way other parts of his body were reacting to her cool brand of smart, sexy strength. “Speaking of belt buckles—that lead you gave me has given my family hope they haven’t felt in months.” He thought of all the times he’d teased her about tabulating what she owed him. “I’d say we’re even now, Counselor.”

  Kenna turned the light out in the closet and joined him in the room that was now lit only by the lamp beside her four-poster bed. “Not by a long shot.”

  “I’m the one keeping tabs and I say we’re even. The debt is settled. I say thank you, and you say you’re welcome.” She walked right up to him, stopping close enough that he could dip his head and kiss her without moving. So he did. “Thank you.”

  She wound his arms around his waist and hugged her body around his. “Thank you.”

  So much for keeping secrets hidden from her.

  “You are one stubborn woman. You can’t just say you’re welcome?” Her breath shuddered against his chest and he realized she was crying. Gut check. Embarrassing himself didn’t matter. “Hey.” He leaned back against her arms so he could see the redness rimming those moonlit eyes. He slicked her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ears, catching each tear that ran onto her cheek with his thumbs and stroking it away. “I never expected to see tears on you. Twice in one day now? They kind of freaked me out this afternoon. I thought you were crashing on me.”

  She blinked several times to stop the flow and gave a good sniffle before resting her cheek against the pad of his shoulder.

  “What’s going through that jumbled-up head of yours?”

  “I’ve been thinking how, even though you mean well, you can’t really stay with me until all this is settled. You’ll have to go to work, and I will, too, eventually.”

  Her fingers wandering lazily up and down his spine weren’t helping him quell the desire thrumming through his blood.

  “I don’t know how I would have gotten through this weekend without you. And when tomorrow comes, I think I’m really going to miss you.”

  “The thought of this guy getting to you again makes me crazy,” he admitted. He didn’t want her to be afraid for her safety. “If I can’t physically be with you, I’ll make sure someone I trust is. My partner, Hud, will help. Or my brothers or sister. Even Dad. He’s the smartest cop I ever knew. He’s still got the goods to keep an eye on you.”

  “No. I mean, I’m going to miss you.” When she pulled back, the tears were gone. But there was still a hint of sadness in her eyes. “There are a lot of differences between us, Detective. I’m an older woman. Money—I know guys can be funny if a woman earns more than he does. You come from a big family and I have empty rooms. The different sides of the courtroom we each represent.”

  “Look, I was an idiot for holding that against you. You were doing your job, just like I was doing mine. You might still be the Terminator, but I say it with nothing but respect now.”

  “I know that.” Those mesmerizing fingers moved to the placket of his shirt and started tracing lines up and down his chest. “But we’ve only known each other for what—three days? Besides this investigation, what reason do you really have to be with me?”

  “This.” His body couldn’t take it anymore. Didn’t she understand what she was doing to him? He caught her face between his hands and claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss. Her lips parted and he took full advantage of the wanton heat inside, inviting her tongue to dance with his, nipping at her bottom lip, then soothing the pliant curve with the stroke of his tongue. Her lips chased after his when he finally pulled away. He felt the pulse in her throat thumping beneath his fingertips, and her breath came in stuttered gasps that brushed the sweet pearls of her breasts against his own heaving chest.

  “This thing happening between us doesn’t have anything to do with the investigation. I don’t need three days or three weeks or three years to know how much I want to be with you. I don’t understand it. And maybe it’s not the smartest move I’ve ever made with a woman. But you and I... There’s something here I want to explore. Maybe physically, you’re not up for much more yet, but...” The woman was smiling. Keir’s fingers tunneled into her hair, but maybe he should be backing off. “What? What are you thinking?”

  “That even if three days is all I ever have—I’ve been lucky to spend them with you.”

  “One. You are having a nice, long life, Counselor. Two. I’m glad I spent them with you, too. And—”

  “Three.” She backed him up against one of the bedposts and kissed him.

  Then things got real. Fast. Kenna unbuttoned his shi
rt and pushed it off his shoulders. He caught the hem of her shirt and swept it off over her head. When they were chest to chest, skin to skin, he reversed positions and pinned her against the bedpost. He only abandoned her mouth to bend down to worship her breasts. He loved the tight little buds and drew them into his mouth, loving the gasps and throaty moans each touch elicited. Then Keir went down on his knees, pulling her knit bottoms down inch by inch, introducing his lips to each new stretch of soft, taut skin until he felt the goose bumps beading beneath every grasp of his hand. He tasted the crease between each hip and thigh, teased the blond thatch in between. Finally, her pants were on the floor and he was feasting his way down every quivering, incredible inch of those long, glorious legs.

  “Keir... Keir...” Her fingers clutched at his hair with needy abandon. “I don’t think I can stand any more.”

  “Patience, baby, patience.” He kissed the dimple beside her knee and started to work his way back up. “I want this to be good for both of us.”

  The fingers in his hair were more urgent now. She was shaking. “No. Standing. I can’t...”

  Ah, hell. Keir pushed to his feet and picked her up. He set her on the bed, fighting to calm his deep, ragged breaths and ignore the arousal straining painfully against his zipper. Worry and a cold shower would soon put things into proper perspective again. “I’m sorry, baby.” He folded the bedspread over her naked body and lay down beside her, gathering Kenna and the bulky cover into his arms. “You haven’t been out of the hospital very long. Does anything hurt? You should have told me you weren’t up for this. We’ll stop.”

  “It only hurts that you’re thinking about stopping.” She pushed at the cover, pushed at his arms. He didn’t fight when she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. “I meant my knees were about to buckle from what you were doing to me, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself and wind up flat on the floor, and then you’d worry if I was hurt and you’d stop, and I—”

  Keir sat up, catching her bottom and keeping her squarely in his lap when she would have tumbled. “You’re sure? Because I want this.”

  Her fingers dropped to the snap of his jeans. “Me, too.”

  Keir pulled his wallet from his back pocket before his jeans and shorts wound up on the floor and his gun ended up on the bedside table. He bit his lip as Kenna rolled the condom over his manhood. And when he couldn’t stand another bold touch, he moved on top of her, marveling at the utter perfection of how their bodies fit together. “You are the only thing on my to-do list tonight.”

  He stopped up her answering laugh with a kiss and pushed inside her. There were no more words, no more teasing. She wrapped those long, glorious legs around him and they rocked together in a decadent rhythm until she cried out his name and arched against him. Keir groaned with the power of his own release before falling down onto the bed beside her. He reached down to find her hand and laced their fingers together.

  Yeah. Perfection.

  Chapter Ten

  Kenna woke with a delicious ache that had nothing to do with her injuries and everything to do with the two rounds of bliss she’d shared with the naked man sprawled out asleep in her bed with little more than a sheet draped over his hips.

  She wasn’t sure if the noise of the storm had waked her, or if the wishes that flitted through her dreams had demanded she make some conscious decisions about her life. Keir Watson was as kind and considerate as he was skilled and passionate. He made her think, made her laugh, made her feel cherished and safe. So she’d gotten up to visit the bathroom, then slipped back into her pajamas and curled up with a blanket in the window seat to watch the storm illuminate the night with pulses of lightning and the rain streak and chill the glass.

  Kenna wasn’t precisely sure what kind of life she’d lived before the attack. But the glimpses she’d seen of fear and control and loneliness didn’t seem like the kind of life she wanted to live anymore. She wanted nights like this. She wanted to defend good people and help them find the justice they deserved. She wanted happiness.

  She wanted love.

  A bolt of lightning forked down to the earth and the answering thunder rumbled in waves for several seconds after.

  “Should I be worried?”

  Kenna turned to the hushed seduction of Keir’s voice and smiled. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled back before pulling on his shorts and jeans. He picked his shirt up off the floor and shrugged it over his broad shoulders as he crossed the room. She tilted her face to his and he leaned down to give her a kiss.

  “Just thinking some deep thoughts.”

  He sat down beside her, resting his hand with a casual possession on her thigh. “Okay, now I am worried. Want to share?”

  Lightning flashed.

  “I was thinking about something you said this afternoon—about being successful at whatever I wanted—”

  The answering explosion of thunder rattled the window, startling her.

  A second later, all the yard lights went out.

  Keir leaped to his feet. “The storm didn’t do that.”

  With the pitch-darkness outside, he hurried to the bed to turn on the lamp. Nothing. “Electricity’s out.”

  Mother Nature lit up the earth with a trio of lightning bursts, filling her backyard with fleeting moments of daylight. In the third flash, she saw him. Standing among the trees, his faceless mask angled up toward her window. “Keir!”

  Kenna scrambled off the window seat as Hoodie Guy vanished into the darkness.

  She ran to Keir’s side as he hung up the bedside phone.

  “He’s cut the landline, too.” He tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans, snatched up the spare keys to the house and pushed his cell phone into her hands before running out the door.

  Kenna dropped the blanket and hurried down the stairs behind him.

  “Call 9-1-1. Give them my name and this address and tell Dispatch that an officer needs assistance.”

  He punched in the security code and threw open the front door. Kenna grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. “You’re going out there?”

  But he was already slipping out of her grip. “He’s not coming in here. Lock up behind me. I’ve got my own key. Don’t let anyone else in.”

  “Keir?”

  He charged down the steps and circled the house to catch the intruder by surprise. She caught a glimpse of his white shirt near the garage at the next flash of lightning. And then he was gone. Swallowed up by the rain and darkness. Kenna locked the door and felt her way through the dining room to the kitchen. She called 9-1-1 and remained on the line as the dispatcher asked. Then she pulled a butcher knife from the drawer beside the stove and crouched down behind the island, praying that Keir would be the one to find her.

  * * *

  “AH, HELL.” KEIR SAW the truck parked on the far side of the garage and finally knew the answer.

  He swiped the rain from his face and darted through the dark garage. Muddy work boots. The same kind of boots that had left the tracks at the parking garage. Free passkey onto the estate anytime he wanted. Hoodie Guy didn’t need to get into the house when the boss lady came out to talk to him every time he worked in the yard. Keir still didn’t know the why. But Marvin Bennett was done terrorizing Kenna.

  He wished he could risk using a flashlight to follow the muddy tracks over the flagstones into the trees in the backyard before the rain washed them away. But he couldn’t risk giving away his position to a man who was more familiar with these surroundings than Keir was.

  The gardener hadn’t been covering up Kenna’s gardening mistake that day they found him rebuilding the brick wall. He’d been covering up his own crime scene. Painting over Kenna’s blood where she’d either fallen or been shoved against the bricks. He’d probably tried to burn some other kind of evidence in the fire pit, like rosebushes
that had been crushed or broken in a struggle. Bennett was a damn cool customer, being surprised by a cop and the woman he was obsessed with—the woman he thought he’d killed—and going on like some kind of idiot who barely knew his way around a flowerpot. He’d kept his wits about him the night before, too, moving Kenna’s body to that downtown alley. When Keir first saw Bennett in disguise, he’d probably been watching the alley to see if anyone discovered her body.

  Had Kenna figured out who’d been sending her rose petals and making those disturbing calls? Had she made an accusation? Caught him doing something suspicious? Had she simply given the gardener one order too many and he’d snapped?

  Whether the murder attempt itself was planned or accidental, stalking Kenna for weeks leading up to the attack—seeing her often enough that he could watch and enjoy his handiwork as she grew angry and paranoid, helpless and afraid—meant Bennett had a game plan here. It might have started as a quest for vengeance or a sick obsession. But Bennett was here tonight to end the game. He’d already gotten one taste of Kenna’s blood. And clearly, he was here for more.

  Keir stopped beside the shelter of a giant locust tree. He silenced his breathing, listening for any sounds of movement in the noisy storm. He wondered if Kenna had placed the call for backup and how long it would take other cops to get here. She might not have that kind of time. He needed to confront Bennett and take him out himself.

  Just as Keir opened his mouth to shout Bennett’s name, lightning flashed in the sky overhead, silhouetting branches and leaves and the shovel swinging at his head. Keir tried to dodge the blow. The shovel glanced off his temple but smacked his head into the tree’s unyielding trunk. Pain jolted through his skull. Lightning danced across his vision and he crumpled to the ground.

  Keir’s last thoughts were of Marvin Bennett rifling through Keir’s pockets for his keys, picking up his gun and running toward the house, and the knowledge he hadn’t told Kenna he loved her.