Protecting Her Son

by Joan Kilby

  “The house you grew up in?” Simone tilted her head. “Was this where you were living when your mother died?”

  “Yes.” Riley stood and paced to the window. His stomach felt funny. He glanced at his watch. It was only 11:00 a.m. He couldn’t be hungry.

  He turned to Simone. “I get it. You think tearing out my mother’s kitchen triggered the panic attack, not the primary school.”

  “The renovations and the explosion in Afghanistan could be linked in some way. Can you think of any association between the two?”

  He shrugged helplessly. “The only link is myself.”

  She folded her hands on her notebook and regarded him over her half glasses. “The answer is rooted in your emotional response to the two events.”

  Riley shook his head, drawing a blank.

  “Could you have been angry at yourself for some reason, perhaps for not being able to prevent either your mother’s death or the suicide bomber?”

  “How could a kid stop someone from dying of cancer when a team of doctors couldn’t do a damn thing?” The anger came from nowhere, welling up in him, making his hands curl into fists. Riley felt like punching something, like the blow-up clown in the corner of the office. Was that what the clown was there for? He’d assumed Simone kept it around for any children she was treating. He paced the other way, away from the grinning red mouth.

  “What are you feeling right now?” Simone asked.

  “You’re the shrink. You tell me,” he said, scowling.

  She regarded him dispassionately. “I think you had a strong emotional response to the idea of not being able to prevent your mother’s death. Clearly, from an adult’s point of view that isn’t possible. But a child might believe differently.” She paused a beat. “Could you have done something to stop the suicide bomber?”

  “I don’t know.” Riley dropped into the chair and put his head in his hands. “That’s the hell of it. I don’t remember.” He looked up as tears blurred his eyes. “If I’m blocking some memory, I need to find out what it is.”

  Simone touched his knee. “You will.”

  * * *

  PAULA SHIFTED THE gift-wrapped package into her other hand and rang Riley’s doorbell. She couldn’t hear any walls being broken down. Hopefully that meant she was catching him at a good time. She checked that her skirt was straight, feeling the back to make sure it wasn’t tucked into her panties.

  Why the hell was she nervous? He was her partner. Sure, she felt bad about yelling at him yesterday but anyone in her position might have been frustrated.

  The door opened.

  Bleary-eyed Riley ran a hand through his already mussed hair. His shirt was wrinkled, as if he’d slept in it. His skinny jeans sat low on his hips. “Hey.”

  Even disheveled he looked hot. The condom in her purse was suddenly burning a hole through the leather. Her self-help books were always telling her to be honest about her motivations. Okay, she was nervous because, in spite of what she’d told him about their night together being a one-off, she still wanted him.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  He glanced at his watch and his eyebrows rose. “Four o’clock already. I guess I fell asleep on the couch.” He opened the door wider. “Come in.”

  “It’s your day off. You’re entitled.” She entered the foyer and held out the gift. “A housewarming present.”

  He took it gingerly as if afraid it might explode in his hands. “What is it?”

  “The usual response is, ‘You didn’t have to.’ Open it and find out, dummy.”

  “I’ll put on the kettle.” Tucking the package under his arm, he led the way through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen.

  Paula stopped in the doorway. In place of the construction zone she’d seen last visit was a gleaming brand-new kitchen in blond wood and dark green tiles with cream-colored appliances. It was sleek and modern yet warm and homey. “Wow. When did you do all this?”

  “I didn’t do it all myself. My dad and his plumber friend helped me install the appliances. A cabinetmaker built the cupboards.”

  “But you’re Mr. Handyman.” She walked closer to the U-shaped workspace, running a hand over the dark green countertops. “I’m disillusioned.”

  “Every time I worked on it, I got a migraine.” He put her gift on the table. “Today at the shrink’s office, I got an idea why.”

  “Spill.”

  “In a minute.” He carefully picked the tape from the ends of the present.

  “Oh, you’re not one of those people, are you?” She hovered over him. “Just rip the paper off.”

  “No way. I re-use it.”

  “So, cheapskate, you’re going to wrap my birthday present in my own paper?”

  “Who says I’m giving you a birthday present?” He slid his finger carefully beneath the edge, lifting off the tape without tearing the paper. He pushed away the paper, revealing the box showing a picture of the contents. “You got me a ceramic rooster. Cool.”

  He peeled back the flaps and pulled out a twelve-inch ceramic rooster. The rooster had his black wings flung back, his head tilted, red crest splayed and beak open as if letting loose a full-throated crow. Around his feet were clustered grapes, apples and other fruit.

  “It’s a French cock. Country-style decor,” she said. “It’s supposed to be good luck.”

  “Thanks.” He set the rooster on the end of the counter next to the toaster. “This place needed something homey.”

  “So what happened at your appointment today?”

  Outside, a lawn mower started. Instead of replying Riley carefully folded the gift wrap. And kept folding till it was a small square. “I have nothing left of my mother in here. Nothing.”

  “The house is fifty years old,” Paula pointed out. “I’ll bet your mother would have loved this new kitchen.”

  “Her eggcup collection used to sit above the stove on that narrow shelf.” He stared at the square of paper as if not knowing what it was. Then he gazed at the empty shelf. “I thought of putting spice jars there, but it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “What happened to the eggcups? Does your father have them?”

  “No, Katie does. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for them back. She misses our mum, too.”

  “You could start a new eggcup collection.”

  He looked askance at her. “You do think I’m a girl.”

  “No.” She slid her arms around his waist and leaned back to look into his face. Maybe sex would take his mind off whatever was eating him alive. “I think you’re very much a guy.”

  Riley put a hand beneath her jaw. His tortured gaze held hers for a heart-squeezing moment then he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her hungrily, his hands moving over her shoulders and down her back to cup her hips and pull her in close.

  She wanted him even though he couldn’t be the man she needed him to be. At least he couldn’t be right now. He thought he was weak but he wasn’t. Latent strength ran all through him, as taut and hard as the muscles beneath her palms. Troubled, yes. Unstable as a loose cannon…whoo, boy. But he was solid at his core. He only needed to believe it.

  He pulled her blouse over her head and took her breasts in his hands, raining kisses over them. She tugged at his shirt buttons, ripping off a loose one in her urgency. It clattered to the floor and rolled beneath the table. “Oops.”

  The window curtains were pushed back. In the next yard the neighbor’s head bobbed above the privacy fence as he mowed the lawn. “We should go to your bedroom.”

  Riley hoisted her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her through the house to the far end of the hall to an irregularly shaped room, containing a dresser, a desk and a single bed with the covers tucked in tighter than a drum.

  Odd that h
e wasn’t using the master bedroom…

  He laid her on his bed and started pulling the rest of her clothes off and soon she couldn’t think anymore.

  * * *

  SLOW DOWN. Don’t go after her like a rutting bull.

  It was tempting to lose himself in her sexy body and her beautiful blue eyes. Here in his room she wasn’t the boss carrying a torch for her criminal ex. And he wasn’t some screwed-up soldier who crumpled like a paper doll when he was needed most. They were just a man and a woman who couldn’t get enough of each other.

  She thought she was bad. She wasn’t.

  “You’re one of the most honorable people I’ve ever known.” He kissed his way down her flat stomach.

  “What—” she pushed her fingers into his hair and lifted his head “—did you say?”

  “I…said…you…were…honorable.”

  “If that’s your way of angling for a wedding proposal, think again.” She sucked in a breath as he dipped lower, between her thighs. “Oh, my.”

  Her pleasure spurred him on. Her soft moans made him harder, tense with the urgency of unconsummated need. He made her come quickly then while she was still limp and moist he dragged himself up to lay beside her, stroking her, fondling her breasts, kissing her, waiting patiently, watching for that moment when the light in her eyes rekindled.

  “You’re beautiful.” His body was humming, no screaming, for release but here at least, he was in control.

  She stirred and turned into him, wrapping her leg over his hip. Taking him in her hand, she guided him to her. “You’re like a live power line that’s been cut, snapping with electricity. I can feel the energy running through you.”

  She closed around him, so hot and tight he could barely breathe. “Here I thought…I was being so…controlled.”

  “Don’t hold back.” Slowly she began to grind her hips against his. “Show me Riley unleashed.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. He flipped her onto her back and drove into her. Pleasure flooded his body, lack of blood made him light-headed. He was operating on pure instinct. He held her breasts in his hands and her gaze with his eyes, thrusting fast and hard. He was hanging on by a thread, wanting her to come again. When he couldn’t last another second, she climaxed with a shriek that sent chills down his spine. A moment later he came, too, powerfully, explosively.

  Panting, Paula grinned up at him. “Your neighbor must wonder what’s going on in here.”

  Riley grinned back, unabashed. “He can’t hear over the lawn mower.”

  “What lawn mower?”

  He cocked his head to listen. Silence. “Oops. Oh, well, who cares?”

  He kissed her, slow and lingering. He didn’t know when he’d had such great sex. Paula was fit and strong enough to match him. The sex was athletic and jubilant.

  He shifted to look at her, stroking a lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly assailed by doubt. Was he trying to make himself feel like a man? Was that what this frenzied coupling was about? How much did he really like her? How much did she like him?

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  What did a guy like him have to offer a woman like her? Unable to give her the truth, he offered her a smile. “Nothing.”

  Paula lifted herself onto her elbow. “We should talk about it.”

  “About nothing?” Even as he teased, a filament of fear inserted itself in what passed for his spine.

  “About the elephant in the room.”

  “Which elephant?” It seemed to Riley they had a herd of the beasts following wherever they went.

  “How you feel about me being Acting Detective and you having to take orders from me.”

  “Ah, that elephant.”

  “So you admit that sometimes you find it hard working with me.”

  “When I see you I want to rip off your clothes and make love to you on the station floor.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Pardon me if the setting doesn’t appeal. Even though the act might.”

  “Okay, the locker room, then.” He ducked, grinning as she hit him with the pillow. When she’d settled back in a huff, he said quietly, “What I find hard is thinking of you with Moresco.”

  “So don’t think about it. That’s in the past.”

  He hoped so. “Do you find it hard working with me?”

  “Yes,” she said eagerly, as if dying to get it off her chest. “I’m always expecting you to question my orders so I come down on you too harshly at the start. Then I feel bad and do the opposite only to end up despising myself for being too lenient.”

  “You’re cute when you’re conflicted, you know that?” He touched her nose with a fingertip, deliberately trying to get a rise out of her. She was so easy that way.

  She swatted his hand away. “I don’t want to be critical or question your judgment but sometimes, like yesterday, I have to.”

  “I promise you, that won’t happen again.” He’d had enough of this conversation. He didn’t want to talk about how he wasn’t good for her. “I’m hungry. Let me cook you something in my new kitchen.”

  “I’d love to but—” She glanced at the bedside clock and swore. “I have to pick up Jamie from school today. He’s bringing home the class guinea pig overnight and I don’t want Sally to have to deal with the cage and all the food.” She rolled out of bed and began to dress.

  “So where do we go from here?” Riley knew where he’d like to go—into a real relationship, out in the open, with the possibility of a future together.

  “Continue our covert op.” Paula fastened her bra and reached for her jeans. “You haven’t told the other guys, have you?”

  Riley gave her a twisted smile. Nope, they weren’t on the same page at all. “No, and I’m not going to.”

  “Good, because sex is fun but it doesn’t solve anything.”

  * * *

  IF ANYTHING, WHAT SHE had going on with Riley made her life more complicated. Paula entered the briefing room the next morning and hesitated. John was seated at the head of the table with Detectives Leonard and Cadley to his left, Riley to his right. She had a split second to choose—the seat next to Riley or the one opposite John.

  The last time she’d been with Riley they’d been naked in each other’s arms. Worse than baring her body, she’d revealed her self-doubts and the way she second-guessed herself. All eyes turned to her as she dithered over where to sit. Heat tinged her cheeks. What had happened to the decisive, assertive Paula Drummond?

  She dropped her notebook on the table and slung her purse over the back of the chair farthest away from Riley, deliberately creating space. They were here to discuss illegal drugs in the community and how to stop them. She had to focus.

  “Detective Leonard was just filling me in on your meeting with Moresco,” John said. “The sting obviously won’t work. We’re back to square one.”

  “I still believe Moresco’s the key to the crystal meth we’ve been seeing in Summerside,” Paula said. “We’ll just have to tackle him from another angle.”

  “I’ve gone over the transfer of ownership of the ice-cream shop,” Riley said. “He’s using a post-office box for an address.” He paused half a beat. “I got the paperwork from my stepmother late yesterday afternoon.”

  After she’d left his house, in other words. “Good. Can you follow that up with the post office today?”

  “Boss.” Riley gave her the tiniest wink.

  She ignored him and turned to Detective Leonard. “Have you found anything in your database that matches the description the high school kids gave us on the dealer they bought the crystal meth from?”

  “We’ve got three possibilities,” Leonard said. “Two have priors for dealing, one is a junkie who’s been arrested for theft and breaking and entering. We’ll chase down those leads—�
�

  U2’s “It’s a Beautiful Day” suddenly blared from Paula’s purse.

  “Bloody hell.” She fumbled open the zip on her bag and rummaged for her phone. “Sorry. Forgot to put it on silent.” She was about to turn it off when she noticed the caller ID.

  “It’s him. Moresco.” The bar of music started to play again. She glanced at John. “Should I take it?”

  John nodded. Riley stopped doodling and put down his pen. Detectives Leonard and Cadley leaned closer.

  “Hello?” Paula punched a couple of buttons and put the cell on speaker. “Nick?”

  “You’re on speaker phone. Why?”

  “I’m washing dishes and my hands are wet.” She rolled her eyes at the flimsy excuse. A sound-effects machine would have been good right now.

  “Is anyone else there?”

  “No.” Paula glanced around at the four men around the table, so quiet you could hear a pin drop—or Nick’s voice through the phone. “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. My sergeant had this dumb idea for a sting. I told him it wouldn’t work. That you were too smart.”

  Sorry, she mouthed at John.

  “Never mind that. My grandmother is visiting from Palermo. She is eighty-five. Her health isn’t good. I want Jamie to come to her birthday party on Saturday afternoon. It’s from one to six.”

  Three heads around the table nodded yes vigorously. Riley frowned and shook his head.

  He was listening, no doubt, to the way she spoke to Nick. Listening for the emotional connection he insisted was there no matter how much she denied it.

  “I admit, I was fudging the truth the other day, about us being a family,” Paula said. “But if you really are going straight, then I will consider you having a role in Jamie’s life. But you have to prove yourself before that can happen.”

  “How do I do that?” Nick asked.

  “Well, you could start by giving me your full contact details, where you live. Then you could come to the station and have a chat about the crystal meth that’s on the streets right now. If you’re not involved, you have nothing to hide. If you help the police in our enquiries, you get brownie points from me.”