Protecting Her Son

by Joan Kilby

  “Will Jamie be home tonight or are you alone?”

  Another time, another man, and those words might have heralded a romantic rendezvous. She stifled a sigh. How long had it been since she’d even allowed herself to think about romance? Who she was, everything she did, was for Jamie. “Alone.”

  She pulled into the driveway, her headlights illuminating Jamie’s two-wheel bike against the back brick wall. “Thanks for the escort. See you on Monday.”

  She was about to hang up when she saw him park behind her and kill his lights. “Hey—”

  “We’re not done,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m coming inside.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  PAULA GOT OUT of her car and all but slammed the door. She was tired, worried and exasperated. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and, just for tonight, pull the covers over her head.

  Riley’s window was down so she called out, “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, don’t.”

  He got out and walked toward her, a lean dark silhouette against the glow of the streetlight. A second later a flashlight beam danced over the pavement at her feet, then over the bushes at the sides of the house.

  “You should have motion-sensor lights,” Riley said.

  “Give me a chance. I just moved in a few weeks ago.”

  He moved past her, up the steps, and shone the beam on the door. “The lock hasn’t been forced.”

  “This is ridiculous and totally unnecessary.” She was getting annoyed. “My ex isn’t going to break in.” She hoped. Nick was both ruthless and unpredictable. And his parting words had sounded distinctly like a threat. “If he does, I can take care of him.”

  “I’m sure you can. Even so, we’ll check the place out together.” Riley waited while she fished out her key and fumbled it into the lock.

  “Damn it, you’ve made me nervous with your old aunt routine. This is only Jamie’s father we’re talking about.”

  Except Jamie’s father wasn’t an ordinary man. He was an international drug dealer and criminal. The lie of omission was getting too big to sustain. She needed to tell Riley, sooner rather than later, that Nick was Jamie’s father.

  The key turned. She opened the door and flicked on the light.

  Riley walked into the living room on the left, switching on a table lamp as he went. The red couch and glass coffee table came to life. He shone the light on walls covered with artwork, potted plants and her collection of blown-glass figurines on the mantel over the fireplace.

  “For only being here a few weeks, you’re pretty settled in.”

  “I’ve gotten good at unpacking.” She’d moved three times in the past seven years, each time was an upheaval for her and Jamie. The first thing she did in a new place was turn the rented house into a home.

  Riley checked the sliding door in the dining room and moved into the kitchen.

  “This is silly. There’s no one here but us.” Her voice sounded too loud in the quiet house. Paula wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Riley or herself.

  “Pays to be thorough.” He opened the door to the laundry.

  Paula was tired of following him around so she headed toward the bedrooms. Halfway down the dark passage loomed a tall black shape. Her heart skipped a beat until she realized she’d left the linen closet door open.

  Feeling along the wall for the light switch, she flicked it on. With illumination, her fear was put into perspective. Safe as houses, the saying went. Not hers, she thought, recalling the flimsy lock on the laundry room door and the windows that could be jimmied open.

  She went into her bedroom, flicking on that light, too. Spying the book on her bedside table, Exploring and Loving Your Inner Self, she tossed it into the bottom drawer. She hated to think of the ribbing she’d cop if Riley saw that.

  She peered into the closet then crouched to look under the bed. Hearing a noise behind her she scrambled to her feet. Riley stood so close she almost bumped into him. So close she could smell the night air on his skin. He could probably hear her heart thumping. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

  “Backyard’s clear. You need to get a better lock on the—”

  “Laundry room door. I know.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and brushed past him, heading to the spare room next door which would likely be his next destination.

  She stood in front of the bookshelf. Riley ignored that, and the table cluttered with scraps of patterned fabric, to check the closet. It was empty but for winter coats, empty hangers and her tennis racket that she hadn’t used since Jamie was born.

  Across the hall she flicked on the light in the bathroom. In her hurry to leave for the barbecue tonight she’d left cosmetics strewn over the counter. It smelled like a bordello.

  “Nothing to see here, folks.” She snatched up her underwear and one of Jamie’s discarded socks from the floor, and stuffed them in the wicker hamper. “Move along.”

  She crowded Riley out of the bathroom. Partners on the beat was one thing, him seeing her mess and dirty lingerie was quite another.

  In front of Jamie’s room, she paused, reluctant to enter. Nick had been here, handling her son’s things. Tomorrow she would do a thorough clean, wiping everything with sanitizer.

  Riley pushed the door, which was ajar, fully open.

  “Let’s make this quick. I’m tired.” Paula strode past him into Jamie’s bedroom. “There’s nothing—”

  But there was. Another shiny red remote-controlled car, identical to the first, sat in the middle of the floor.

  Her stomach heaved. Her hand went to her mouth. Her knees threatened to buckle. Nick was showing her how easily he could get to her son, with or without her consent.

  “What is it?” Riley touched her shoulder. “Paula?”

  Her hand shaking, she pointed at the car.

  Her ambivalence about Nick and his rights as Jamie’s father crystallized in the heat of her anger. This wasn’t how a father behaved, breaking into a child’s home. This was a violation. Here she’d been worrying about family values. Nick had made it clear he thought he was above the rules that governed ordinary society. Well, she should have known that already, shouldn’t she? She’d been blinded by her own guilt and shame, by her fears she wasn’t giving Jamie everything he deserved. No more. From now on she would move heaven and earth to keep Moresco away from her son. If he was engaged in illegal activities, she would use all her powers as a cop to catch him. When she did, she would lock him up and throw away the key.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” Riley took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face him, bending his knees to peer into her eyes. “Has Jamie’s father been here? How do you know?”

  “The toy car. It wasn’t here when I left for the barbecue. He must have put it here while I was gone.”

  “He has a key to the house?”

  “No.” She picked up the car, wanting to crush it with her bare hands. Or beat it to scrap metal with Jamie’s cricket bat. No one threatened her child’s safety. “First thing tomorrow I’m going to install deadbolts on every door, nail all the windows shut.”

  “You need to see a lawyer, take out a restraining order,” Riley said. “You’re already potentially in danger from Moresco, you don’t need to be hassled by Jamie’s father, too.”

  * * *

  TO RILEY’S SURPRISE, Paula, furious only a moment ago, crumpled. She dropped the toy car and it fell with a thunk to the carpet. Covered her face with her hands, she spun away, shoulders bowed.

  Riley shifted uneasily. What had happened to his tough cop? This woman was in a world of hurt, anger and confusion. He wanted to fix it for her but didn’t know how. So he did the only thing he could think of. He put his arms around her.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured next to her ear. She shook her head and his nostrils f
illed with the scent of her hair. He stroked her back, listened to her choked sobs and wondered what to say. “Have you got full custody?”

  “Yes,” she said on a hiccup.

  “Then everything’s fine. It’s just a toy. He hasn’t hurt Jamie, that’s the main thing. I’ll help you change the locks, make this place secure. Then you won’t have to worry.” As a cop he knew enough about domestic problems to know that things could get messy and possibly she did have to worry. There was no point in dwelling on that right now. He held her close, very aware of her in his arms, of her heat and the shape of her. He touched his mouth to her temple, feeling her pulse beneath his lips.

  Naturally, being Paula, she didn’t want comfort for long. She pushed him away, blinking her eyes dry. “I have to tell you something.”

  Then instead of speaking, she paced, moving restlessly around the room, straightening the bed, and picking up toys.

  “So spit it out. I’m listening.”

  Her grip tightened on the T. rex in her hands. “Nick Moresco is Jamie’s father.”

  Riley blinked, the crash of disappointment rendering him speechless. He’d known it in his bones and yet had somehow hoped beyond hope that he was wrong. Hearing her confirm it, the only surprise was how intensely betrayed he felt that she hadn’t confided in him earlier.

  “I beg your pardon?” Even though he’d heard, he wanted her to deny it.

  “I said—”

  “Never mind, I got it.” He didn’t want to hear it again. He struggled with the enormity of her admission. It was one thing to speculate, to have a theory. Another thing to know for certain that his partner, the woman he’d fantasized about sexually, had slept with a known drug dealer, a high-level criminal under her investigation. It went against everything he stood for. Everything he thought she stood for.

  “I knew you must have done something pretty bad to warrant losing your detective stripes. But I never once thought that the guys at the station were right.”

  “Right? What do you mean by that?”

  “That you’re a bent cop.”

  “The hell I am!”

  “You slept with a drug dealer. What else did you do? Did you sell drugs for him, too?” Riley didn’t know why he was being so antagonistic, but he knew damn well he couldn’t pat her on the back again and say, there, there, everything’s going to be okay. “Why didn’t you tell me before this?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. All the time we were searching Timothy Andrews’ car, looking for a link to Moresco, you were withholding vital information.”

  “Information that wasn’t relevant to the case.”

  “And tonight, I’m checking out your house thinking you’re worried about some dweeb pencil pusher who wants to take his kid out for a movie and a hamburger on Sunday when in reality, you’re dealing with a freaking drug lord with body guards and gunmen ready to do his bidding.”

  “I told you, I can deal with him.”

  “You slept with him.” Riley couldn’t get over it. The knowledge rankled somewhere really deep, somewhere beyond the inherent wrongness of it in relation to being a police officer. It bothered him down deep where he was a man. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was jealous.

  Maybe he was jealous. Great. That was all he needed, to be falling for his partner.

  “You don’t know what it was like going undercover for over a year,” she said. “I lived and breathed my role—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you told me already. Therapeutic massages, my ass.” At her scoff, he amended, “Okay maybe your massages were legit but female cops don’t trade sexual favors for evidence. There are rules.”

  Her chin went up another notch. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right.” Riley held up his hands. “I don’t understand.”

  “And you have no right to judge.”

  “Don’t I?” He walked over to her, the better to get in her face. Even though he’d considered this possibility he’d secretly wanted to believe she held herself to the same high moral standard that he did. Because if she didn’t, what did that say about him, the guy who did everything right, that he could fall for a “bad” girl. Hell, he was still attracted to her. It was wrong, wrong on so many levels.

  He didn’t know how to handle his feelings so he turned his confusion into aggression. “You demand to know what went wrong in my past that’s screwing me up. You tell me to see a shrink. Try to manipulate me into socializing.”

  “I was doing all that to help you—”

  “All the time, you’ve been holding back.”

  “I’m not the one having panic attacks outside a primary school.”

  Riley took her by the shoulders, wishing he could shake some sense into her. “Hello! Nick Moresco is gunning for you.”

  She brought up her arms between his and pushed outward, breaking his hold. “Step back. You’re too close. And don’t be a drama queen. Nick’s not like that. He wouldn’t hurt me, or Jamie.”

  “You’re defending him?” Riley said incredulously. “After he broke into your house?”

  “No, of course not. But I don’t need you telling me off.” She walked to the door. “You’d better go.”

  “Damn right I’m going.” He strode out of the bedroom and out the front door, not bothering to close it behind him. She’d played him for a fool. Lied to him. Made him feel protective of her, worried for her. And all the time she’d been holding on to this secret. Well, screw her.

  Partners? Hardly.

  He threw the flashlight onto the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. Feeling in his jacket pocket for his keys, he started the Audi. Paula appeared in the lighted doorway. Savagely he turned the key and the engine started with a low rumble. The tires squealed as he burned out of the driveway in Reverse, did a two-point turn and peeled out of the cul-de-sac.

  Jealous, him? No bloody way.

  He roared down the side street toward the main road that led to the village business district. Just before the T intersection a white cat leaped out of nowhere. He slammed on the brakes and swerved to miss it. The cat streaked into the bushes. Riley brought the car to a halt and rested his forehead on the wheel between his clenched hands.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He was overreacting again. Overreacting? Hell, he was acting just plain crazy. He barely recognized himself.

  Paula was his partner. So she’d made a mistake seven years ago. Big deal.

  But it was. It was a doozy of a mistake. What kind of woman, let alone a cop, slept with a drug lord?

  He started driving again—at the speed limit—through the commercial district, all two blocks of it. At midnight on a Saturday all the shops were closed except for the fish and chip take-out, a couple of restaurants and the pub.

  She’d kept secrets. Well, who wouldn’t keep a secret like that? She must be embarrassed and ashamed.

  He headed for the cliff overlooking the beach. The moon shone over the bay. He sat in the parking lot, motor idling and watched the golden light ripple over the water.

  She’d jerked him around. He wasn’t going to be forgetting that in a hurry.

  Still, she was in danger from that asshole drug dealer—even if she didn’t realize it.

  Riley turned the car around and drove to Paula’s house. If he went home, he’d probably spend another sleepless night anyway. He might as well be doing something more useful than roaming the dark rooms of his subconscious.

  All the lights were out at Paula’s except the one over the porch. Good. He didn’t want to talk to her again tonight. He cut the engine and coasted into her driveway. Pulling his jacket collar around his neck, he put his seat back as far as it would go and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  PAUL
A LAY AWAKE in bed, alternately replaying the shock of seeing the toy car in Jamie’s room, and the warmth of Riley’s arms around her. It bothered her how good his embrace had felt, and not only for the comfort factor—

  A car approached then cut its engine right outside her house. What was that? She propped herself on her elbows, ears strained, waiting for the engine to start up again, or a door to shut. It almost sounded as if the car had come into her driveway.

  What if it was Nick, even now silently moving toward the house? Maybe he’d waited until he’d seen her come home and Riley leave before returning.

  She took her gun from the drawer and got out of bed. The hall floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she stole through the dark to the living room. With the barrel of the gun she pulled the curtains back a fraction of an inch and peered through the gap.

  Riley’s black Audi sat in the middle of the driveway.

  Wonderful. Any minute he would knock on her door with some patronizing bullshit about how she should go to a friend’s house. She would tell him where he could go.

  She opened the curtain a little farther to get a better look. He was slumped behind the wheel, not moving. What did he think he was doing? Should she go out there and send him home?

  He’d been a jerk about Nick. It was really disappointing. She’d hoped he might be different. Instead he was like all the other male cops who couldn’t understand that she’d only slept with Nick because she had to, to crack the case. They all thought she was some kind of slut. It wouldn’t be long before sly remarks and innuendo slipped into casual conversation in the locker room. Then would come the sidelong looks, the sniggers and even outright disgust, depending on the sensibilities of the cop.

  She was tempted to order Riley off the property. Who did he think he was, camping out in her driveway? Just because he’d been SAS and was used to acting on his own initiative he thought he could override her wishes.

  But she wasn’t up to another argument tonight. Not when she was so jumbled inside over how she felt about him. Did she want his arms around her or did she want to tell him off? Both, if she was honest.