by Julie Miller
He caught the ball, wondering if he’d imagined the sharpness to her voice, or if she really was just playing. He passed the ball back and she shot it into a steel barrel where the balls were stored. Nice. “I see you’ve still got game.”
“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how bad my knees are hurting? And I had to sit out after the first five minutes just to catch my breath.” She mopped her face with a towel and straddled a bench over by the court. “Come on over and sit down. I suppose you want to know how I’m doing. Unless you’re here to take me home? I can have my bags packed in two minutes. Oh, wait, I wasn’t allowed to bring any of my own clothes.”
Sarcasm wasn’t her best color.
Eli strolled over and propped one foot on the bench, resting his elbows on his knee. He didn’t want this impromptu visit to turn into another fight. “So how are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Well, I’m not sick at my stomach anymore, and the worst of the jitters are gone.”
“How are you emotionally?”
Her laugh sounded forced. “You’re one to ask. Aren’t you the guy who turned his back on me and walked away without so much as a hug?”
“You don’t remember? You were bawling. I held you for five minutes before the doctor said I had to go.” Judging by the upturned glare, she didn’t remember their goodbye—or had purposely chosen to forget. “He said a clean break would make it easier for you to transition into detox.”
“Transition?” Okay. The temper was officially brewing. Both the sweet baby sister and the motivated athlete had been replaced by the cold-eyed wild child she’d become. “You know what transition means here, Eli? They lock you in a plain white room and strap you down to the bed. Some lady comes and babbles at you while they stick needles in your arms and you puke up your guts.”
For a moment, Eli couldn’t look into that accusatory face. Jillian had always loved being outdoors. She’d loved anything that involved action and movement. Being locked inside a room, unable to run or soak up the sunshine, would be torture for her. Doubly so if she was in pain or sick. “They’re called the DT’s, Jilly. They’re not pleasant for anybody.”
“I know what they’re called.” She jumped to her feet. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t say you were. But it’s natural—normal—to be in pretty tough shape while the drugs are working their way out of your system.” He reached out to brush aside the bangs that had fallen into her eyes. “Looks like you came out stronger for it. I’m proud of you for being here. I think you’re gonna be fine.”
“I’m fine now, Eli. Really. I haven’t felt this good in years.” She tugged at his sleeve and pleaded with him. “Why don’t you just take me home today? I can stay in my old bedroom. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”
“I had to sell the house, Jilly. Remember? All I’ve got is that apartment now. With one bedroom.”
“I can sleep on the sofa,” she begged.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. But this is a six-week program. You’re just getting started.”
“Dammit, Eli!” He winced as she slapped his arm away. “I’m ready to go now! Take me somewhere—anywhere—away from this place.”
Eli stood up straight, unbending. How many times had trying to do the right thing cost him her smile? “The judge only gave you two choices, and I didn’t think jail was the best alternative for you.”
“This is a jail! They still lock me in at night. They monitor everything I say or do—every time I go to the bathroom, every time I eat.” She waved toward the door behind him. “Dr. Randolph’s over there right now, spying on this little family reunion.”
“They monitor you so—”
“—so they know I’m not sneaking in any drugs. I know, I know.” Jillian raked all ten fingers through her hair. “I’m feeling better, Eli. I’m feeling good. If I’m fixed, why do I have to stay?”
“Because you’re not fixed, Jilly. An addict can’t be fixed. That’s one of the things they’ll teach you here.”
“So now you think I’m some kind of loser who can’t keep her act together? Thanks for the vote of confidence, bro.”
Had Gibbs been in a desperate, delusional state of mind like this when he’d been brainwashed into believing he’d killed a little girl? It scared Eli to think that someone could plant an idea in Jillian’s head right now—deliver this bag of coke, sell yourself to this man for some extra cash—and in her vulnerable emotional state, she’d do it.
Eli grabbed his sister by the shoulders and gave her a tiny shake, willing her to understand that his love was stronger than the demons she still had to face. And that, by walking away, he was making her stronger, too. “You may be feeling fine today, or tomorrow. But what about the day after that? Or the next? You still have to learn how to get from minute to minute when those drugs are calling. When you’ve got a problem to face they offer you the easy way out. You need time to regain your strength. You need to learn coping strategies that I don’t know how to teach you.”
“You just want someone to baby-sit me so you don’t have to.”
“Jilly—”
She shoved him away. “No, Eli. Just go. You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t want me around.”
“This isn’t a punishment. The clinic will—”
“Just go. We’ll see if I have anything to say to you once I’m out of here.”
“I love you.”
Jillian snorted. “You don’t know how.”
She shrugged off his last attempt to make contact and marched past him to the back door of the clinic. “C’mon, Doc. I have to pee, and you don’t want to miss that.”
When she left, Eli turned and saw Shauna standing in the open doorway. How long she’d been there, how much she’d seen, he didn’t know. She hugged her arms around her waist, a stance he’d learned meant she was cold, or she was fighting her way past some unwanted emotion.
He could relate. “Hey, Shauna.”
Shauna’s green eyes locked on to his and refused to let go. “It hurts when they can’t see how much you love them, doesn’t it?”
Eli scuffed his shoe in the dirt. Hell yeah, it hurt. He wasn’t the monster here, though Jillian’s parting shots sure made him feel like one. He wanted to tear something apart. He wanted to go back in time to when his world was a shiny bright place that made sense.
He wanted to walk over there and kiss Shauna senseless, then take her down in the back seat of his car or the nearest closet or wherever they could close a door, and bury himself so deep inside her that he couldn’t feel the isolation anymore, couldn’t feel the pain.
“Yeah.” Better to start talking than to act on impulses that could only get him even more twisted inside. “Seeing Jilly was a mistake. All I did was get her riled up. I didn’t help either one of us.”
“If not you, then something else would have set her off. Believe me, Eli, I understand. I was married to an addict for ten years. We can’t predict how they’ll react to anything, good or bad. We can’t make the world right for them. They’re always going to be looking for that next fix—whether it’s a line of coke or the perfect deal. They have to learn how to make their own choices.”
“If they can.”
“That’s right. If they can. And if they make the wrong ones, it’s not our fault.”
He rubbed at the stiff tension in his neck. “Does the regret ever go away?”
“I’ll let you know.”
With a sweet smile that could soothe even his growly mood, she gestured to the lidded cardboard box at her feet. “I’ve got copies of personnel files as well as the patient records we requested.”
Right. The investigation. The antidote for guilty consciences and frustrated libidos. He picked up the box and carried it out to the SUV for her.
“Are you up for some heavy reading tonight? I’ll buy the coffee if you help me find the connection between Gibbs, Pittmon, Powell and Baby Jane Doe.”
“Coffee sounds good.”
Holding Shauna
in his arms sounded even better. But they were in a public place and they had a job to do.
Coffee would be just fine.
THE PAIN in Eli’s shoulder burned all the way up his neck to the base of his skull. Hunching over Shauna’s kitchen table for two hours, sorting through the clinic files and taking notes, didn’t help the aches from yesterday’s run-in with the pavement at Union Station. He needed a visit to the chiropractor, a bone-deep massage—or a couple of answers to make the pieces of this puzzle fall into place so some of the tension inside him could relax.
“I’ve got nothing.” Shauna closed the folder she’d been reading and yawned. “You?”
Nice. Aches and pains and unsolved mysteries weren’t the only things keeping him tense tonight.
Shauna stretched her legs, raising them parallel to the floor. She flexed her ankles and pointed her toes in a graceful display of strength and suppleness that sent a whole new shot of adrenaline coursing through his body. Apparently, he had a thing for naked feet. He liked anything that showed off those long, gorgeous legs, but there was something unexpectedly intimate about her habit of kicking off her shoes when she was off duty around the house. Eli didn’t know if it was the soft pink paint on her toenails he found so sexy, or the fact that bare toes meant at least some part of her was naked.
And Shauna naked was an idea he found very appealing.
But she had willpower enough for both of them. And while she could make him feel welcome in her kitchen for a late-night work session, he doubted she’d welcome him into her bedroom.
“Eli?”
He blinked and brought her concerned expression into focus. Work, Masterson, work.
“Right. Nothing here, either.” He scraped his palm over the scratchy stubble on his jaw, setting aside thoughts of naked toes and warm kitchens, and pulled out the timeline he’d drawn. He set the paper on top of the scattered piles. “Other than the week that Donnell and LaTrese were roommates, there’s no significant overlap to connect those four. They were separated at the clinic because they were at different stages of the program. Richard Powell was dismissed while Charlie Melito was still in detox. Charlie and Donnell shared the same counselor, but met at different times. And LaTrese was kicked out for smuggling heroin in.”
“How’d he get it into a locked-down clinic?”
“Seduced a nurse’s aide.” He double-checked his notes. “A Daphne Hughes. Both of them did time for possession after that.”
“Just when I think we’re making progress, we take three steps back.” Shauna got up and carried their empty mugs to the sink. “At least there’s nothing to connect any of them to your sister.”
“Don’t worry. Your safety is still my priority.” Eli pushed to his feet, clenching his jaw to mask the groan of straightening his neck and shoulders. “We’ll find the clue we need to break this case, if not with this batch of evidence, then—”
“Relax. I saw you comparing names and dates.” Shauna’s smile was pure comfort. “I’m not the only victim here. It’s okay to worry about Jillian. I know you’ve got a big heart inside that man-of-steel chest.”
She crossed the room and patted his shoulder, urging him to sit back down. He sank back to his chair, treasuring the closeness rather than obeying the order. When her strong fingers closed over his aching shoulders, his body jolted with excitement. She kneaded the tight muscles until the tension broke and his pulse eased to a pleasant buzz of awareness.
“I’m sure your sister will be perfectly safe at the Boatman Clinic. It must be a fluke that the others were all there in rehab at one time or another.”
“I like facts, not flukes.”
“So do I. But Yours Truly might not be related to any of these men. There has to be something else they have in common.”
Eli closed his eyes and leaned back into the heavenly massage. “None of the task force members I’ve talked to mentioned anything about the Boatman Clinic.”
“Why would they? Once they found their man, why keep digging?” She slid her palms over his collarbone, moving to the muscles less affected by his injuries, but equally eager to receive her touch. “You think Rebecca Page is right? That Powell is working for some crime boss?”
“Gibbs isn’t organized-crime material.”
“But he makes the perfect patsy if you want someone to take the fall for you.”
“That puts us back to square one. We have the wrong man in jail for Baby Jane’s murder and a sicko on the loose who intends to punish you if we can’t find the real killer on his timetable.” Shauna’s thumbs rubbed circles on either side of his neck. Her tender ministrations made it harder and harder to concentrate on the case, made it harder to think of her as another cop. “I wish we could come up with the right photograph to show Gibbs. Find out who it was that had your picture along with the little girl’s. Whoever that is—that’s our man.”
“I thought about sitting him down to look through mug-shot books, but that’d be a crapshoot. For obvious reasons, I’m not that much of a gambler.”
Eli hissed at the feel-good pain of Shauna’s thumb pressing against a bruise beneath his collar.
Her grip instantly popped open. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Eli snatched her wrists and pulled her hands back to his needy body. “Don’t stop. You’re bound to hit a bruise somewhere, but I haven’t been taken care of like this since…”
Hell. He was the one who did the caretaking.
“Oh, my God. Eli.” She’d folded back his collar to inspect the deep-violet-and-blue mark. The deliciously warm friction of her hands had become a frantic search. Her fingers moved down the placket of his shirt, loosening each button one by one.
“Whoa, boss lady.” He tried to catch her hands. “You give a man the wrong idea when you undress him like this.”
Did she have ideas? He somehow figured seduction by Shauna would be a slow and thorough process, not this urgent touch and grab.
But as she circled around him and spread the blue broadcloth apart to expose his chest, the shock on her face told him that sex wasn’t what she had on her mind. Now he could catch her hands, and feel them cold and trembling.
“I didn’t realize. Do you want an aspirin? An ice pack?” Shock gave way to the regret and compassion that deepened the lines beside her eyes and tightened the contours of her beautiful mouth.
“Shauna, I’m okay.”
The dark rainbow of scrapes and bruises on his bared shoulder and torso told her a different story.
“No, you’re not. I’m asking too much of you. You’re hurt like this because of me.”
Eli rose to his feet, intending to disprove her guilt. “Get your facts straight. I’m banged up a little because of Yours Truly. Crazy guy in the blue Buick. Remember?”
When she continued to stare with a look that was pure torture to see, Eli let her go and quickly rebuttoned his shirt. She didn’t need to absorb his pain. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing on me that won’t heal. And, when it comes down to it, I’d rather see them on me than you.”
At that, she tilted her chin and looked him in the eye. “I’ve put you in a terrible position, haven’t I? I’ve separated you from backup by insisting on secrecy—”
“I don’t have friends who’d charge to the rescue, anyway.”
“I’ve alienated you from the rest of KCPD—”
“We knew that going in. I.A. guys are used to not feelin’ the love.”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, fighting the emotions ready to spill out. “I’ve made you a target as much as I am. I thought…” She swallowed hard and Eli wanted to reach for her. “I really thought we could find the truth.”
“We will.”
“But at what cost?”
Eli tried to communicate his commitment to her through that visual bond they shared. “I’m just doing my job, Shauna. I serve and protect. All the citizens of Kansas City—even the ones who outrank me.”
She held his gaze
a heartbeat longer, and then she did the damnedest thing and walked right up to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body into his, hugging him like there really was something incredible between them and she didn’t care who knew it.
Rubbing her cheek against his chest, Shauna snuggled impossibly close, easing the tightness inside him, kindling a warmth that had as much to do with acknowledgment and acceptance as it did with body heat. Eli folded his arms around her and dipped his mouth to the crown of her hair. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”
They held each other like that for a couple of endless minutes, moving closer if they moved at all. Trading comforts, sharing strength. Belonging.
But when her nipples pebbled with friction and thrust against him—when his own response to her warmth and scent and vulnerability stirred the masculine strength behind his zipper—Eli pressed a kiss to her temple and pushed some space between them.
“You want to fix another thermos of that hot coffee for me?” he asked, before he ruined the moment and took her offer of comfort and compassion to a sexual place. “No.”
He raised his eyebrows at the unexpected answer. “You’re cuttin’ me off?” She stood there, hugging her arms around her waist while he retrieved his jacket and tie from the back of his chair. “I can’t do a very good job of guarding the place if I’m dozing behind the—”
“I want you to sleep inside tonight.”
“Shauna…that could be dangerous.”
She grabbed his jacket and tie and clutched them to her as though stealing his clothes would keep him from leaving. “The security alarm is set. Mitch Taylor is sending a patrol unit around every hour to keep an eye on—”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Her green eyes got that message, all right.
“I let the dog sleep inside. I might as well let you come in, too.”
Eli laughed. “Hey, Sadie, I rate.” The big Lab was zonked in the corner, snoring away. “Do I have to sleep on the dog bed?”
“You rate a little higher, even. There’s a guest room upstairs. Complete with walk-in shower if you want. Maybe the hot water would help loosen up some of those sore muscles.”
