by Lisa Jackson
“It could be that she can hear all of us,” Kelly said. “Maybe she just can’t respond.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow, then nodded curtly. “I s’pose.” He reached for his sister’s hand and Randi’s palm seemed small and pale in his long, work-roughened fingers. “Come on, Randi gal,” he said, seeming awkward in the role of doting brother. “Come on.” Kelly’s heart ached when she saw the pain etched across Matt’s rugged face. He was a complex man, she realized, capable of a hundred emotions, ranging from anger, to guilt and love. Beneath his ranch-tough exterior was a good heart.
If only his sister’s eyes would flutter open.
Realizing she was an intruder in a very intimate scene, Kelly started for the door.
“You don’t have to go.” Again his voice seemed loud and out of place in a hospital where hushed conversation and the faint strains of piped-in music were the backdrop.
“I’ll just be outside.” Kelly offered him a smile over her shoulder. “I think you need to be alone with her.” Then she slipped through the doorway and eyed the nurses’ station a few doors down a wide corridor. Two nurses, both women, were on duty, one talking on the telephone while looking at a computer screen, the second writing in a fat binder. An aide pushed a cart stacked with towels and blankets toward the elevator and one older man was strolling down the hallway, his IV stand in tow.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
Nothing strange or sinister.
“Hey, thanks for spelling me,” Rex said as he ambled toward his chair. “I brought you a cup of coffee…hope you drink it black.”
“Perfect.” She accepted the second cup and took a sip of the scalding brew.
“It’s supposed to be French roast, whatever the hell that is.” Rex touched the lip of his cup to hers. “Here’s to police work, which, in this case, includes babysitting.” He shook his head, a few gray hairs catching the light. “Personally I think this is a big waste of time. I know someone tried to kill her before, but they’d have to be flat-out stupid to try it again. The hospital’s beefed up security, and frankly, I haven’t seen one suspicious character in this place.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Matt said as he overheard the last part of the conversation. He was frustrated with the situation, and seeing a big man in uniform sharing a cup of coffee and complaining to Kelly about the guy’s duty irritated the hell out of him.
The policeman nodded as his eyes met Matt’s. “I intend to,” he said. “Rex Stanyon.” He shot out a beefy, freckled hand that Matt reluctantly shook.
“Good.” Matt squared his hat on his head and tried to ignore the spurt of jealousy that raced through his blood. His reaction to Kelly was all wrong. Way out of line. So she was pretty, so she filled out that drab uniform in all the right places, so what? She was a policewoman, for God’s sake.
Ridiculously he felt a tightening in his groin, as he always seemed to whenever she was around. Hell. He clamped down his jaw. She was investigating the attempts on his sister’s life; he couldn’t think of her as a woman.
“We’ll take care of your sister,” Rex was saying.
“See that you do.” He started for the elevator before he said something to the cop that he might regret.
From the corner of his eye he saw Kelly drain her cup, say something to Rex, then take off to catch up with him as the elevator doors parted and an attendant pushed an empty wheelchair into the hallway.
“That was uncalled-for.” Kelly strode into the elevator and swatted the button for the ground level.
“What?”
The doors closed and with a groan the elevator car began its descent.
“Rex is a damned good cop.”
“If you say so.”
“Look, McCafferty,” she said, stepping closer to him and jabbing a long finger at his chest. “Everybody’s doing the best they can, and believe me, we all want to see the creep who attacked Randi behind bars. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have the right to grumble a bit.”
“I just asked the man to do his job.”
“You insinuated that he wasn’t.” Her lips pursed in fury, her nostrils flared and a soft blush colored her cheeks.
“Cops are supposed to have thick skins.”
“So are cowboys!”
Without thinking, he grabbed her. His hands surrounded her upper arms and he dragged her close. “Cowboys are just like cops. Flesh and blood.”
“And they have feelings, too. Is that the sorry line you were going to throw at me?”
“No, lady, I wasn’t. In fact, I wasn’t going to say a damned thing.” Without really thinking about it, he yanked her closer still, lowered his head and kissed her. Hard. Full on the mouth while she was gasping and sputtering and probably reaching for her gun. Her lips were firm and warm, the starch in her spine not giving an inch. If he expected her to melt against him, he was disappointed.
She flung herself out of his arms as the elevator landed and her eyes flashed indignant fire. “Don’t you ever—”
The doors parted and Slade McCafferty started to step inside. “Oh. Matt, I was looking…” Blue eyes focused full on Kelly and then, as if he read the situation perfectly, Slade had the nerve to grin, one of those crooked, I-know-what-you’ve-been-up-to smiles that had irritated the hell out of Matt while growing up. “Well, what’s going on here?” he drawled, and Matt wanted to lunge at him.
“Nothing.” Kelly found some shred of her pride. “I was just explaining to your brother that we’re doing everything possible to locate the person who attacked your sister.”
Slade’s eyes danced and again Matt wanted to knock his block off.
“Well, I was trying to track you down, ’cuz we just got a call from Kurt Striker. He’s on his way to the ranch from Seattle. Should be there in an hour.”
“Let’s go,” Matt said.
“I’d like to talk to him,” Kelly said as they headed along the hallway to the wide front doors of the hospital.
“I don’t think—” Slade started to protest.
“Why not?” Matt nodded, as if agreeing with himself. “Maybe you could share some information with him and he could do the same for you.” Slade was about to argue the point further, but Matt cut him off. “We just have to catch this bastard. If the police are willing to work with Striker, all the better.” He glanced at Kelly. “You want to ride with me?”
“I’ve got my car.”
He lifted a shoulder and ignored the unspoken accusations in his brother’s eyes. “I’ll catch up with you at the ranch,” Slade said. “I just want to look in on Randi first.” Turning on his heel, he started for the elevator.
The electronic doors opened to the cold night. “You were about to tell me where to get off,” Matt reminded her as they strode across the parking lot and snow blew across the asphalt.
“Don’t ever try to manhandle me, okay?” She zipped her jacket and glanced up at him. “It could be dangerous.”
“What? Were you going to handcuff me? Pull out your .38? Use a billy club and knock some sense into me?”
“That’s not what I was talking about,” she said soberly, then, unexpectedly, chuckled. When she glanced up at him, snowflakes caught on her eyelashes. “But it’s not a bad idea. Watch out. I graduated from the police academy with honors in billy-clubbing.”
So she did have a sense of humor. Beneath Ms. All-business-I’m-a-member-of-Grand-Hope’s-finest-team, the lady appreciated a joke. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Of course you did,” she said, reaching her car.
“I just kissed you.”
“No way. That wasn’t a kiss. That was a slap in the face. You were trying to let me know who was boss. Period. Neanderthal tactics, McCafferty. In case you didn’t get the word, they went out with the Stone Age.” She yanked a key ring from her pocket and started opening the door.
“No one’s ever complained before.”
“Have you ever done a poll?”
“Ouch.” He winced
.
“Just telling it like it is.”
The door unlocked, and Matt, his pride stung, wanted to haul her into his arms again but didn’t dare. “What is it with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re…different.”
“From the women in your life? Let’s hope.” She started to slide into her vehicle when he grabbed the crook of her arm.
“Wait a minute.”
She glanced down at his hand and disdainfully peeled his fingers from their grip on her elbow. “I don’t go for the macho-man tactics.”
“No? Then what?”
She hesitated, bit her lip and studied him through night-darkened eyes. “Since you asked…” Stepping around the door of her four-wheel drive, she held his gaze. “I know I’m going to regret this, but you did bring it up....” She reached upward and placed her chilled hands on either side of his face. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his, softly at first, just brushing her skin over his, and then, as her fingers warmed against his cheeks, she deepened the kiss, ever so slowly slipping her arms around his neck and molding her lips to his. Deep inside, the fire that had been banked for so many years ignited, warm ashes sparking to life. With a groan, he closed his eyes and slid his hands to her waist. Desire licked through his blood and the combination of the frigid night air and the warm woman in his arms was so damnably erotic. He wanted so much from her. Body and soul and— She pushed him away quickly, and though she tried to cover it up, he saw the quickness in her breath, noticed that her eyes were nearly black, her skin flushed.
“That…that was just a demonstration,” she said, her voice husky. She cleared her throat. “So the next time you think about using caveman tactics you might want to think twice.”
Chapter 7
Matt wasn’t going to let some woman…some lady cop…best him. Grinning crookedly in the night, he drew her to him again. The ethereal lamplight glistened in the snow covering the parking lot and caught in her eyes. “You’re not so tough, are you, Detective?” he asked, knowing he was stepping into dangerous territory. He should just leave well enough alone, but the challenge in her eyes, the defiant lift of her chin, the passionate woman hidden beneath that cop’s uniform zeroed in on his male pride. “Don’t lecture me about caveman tactics,” he warned, “or I might just accuse you of being a tease.”
“That wouldn’t destroy me.”
“No?” His fingers tightened over her arms. “And I’ll bet it’s not true.”
“Wait a minute. I was just—”
“You were just curious and it backfired. You’re not as immune as you thought you were. You’re not an ice woman after all.”
“And you’re not a gentleman.”
“Never said I was.” He let her go then, dropped his hands and turned toward his pickup parked two rows over.
Kelly climbed into her rig and bit her lip. He was right, dammit. She had reacted to him. She slammed the door shut and jabbed her key into the ignition with trembling fingers. How long had it been since she’d felt any response to a man? Two years? Three? Five? She couldn’t remember, not that there were all that many to consider. She’d only fallen in love twice, and both times when the man started talking marriage, she’d bowed out.
Maybe she hadn’t really been in love.
Or maybe love didn’t exist.
She kicked herself as she flipped on the wipers. She knew better. Her parents’ marriage was proof enough of the commitment and bond that can exist between a man and woman.
Good Lord, what was happening to her? What was she doing thinking about love? Just because Matt McCafferty had kissed her, she shouldn’t go off the deep end. Besides, any McCafferty brother, Matt included, was off-limits. Definitely off-limits. Not only was he the brother of a victim, but he was the son of John Randall McCafferty, the man who had single-handedly ruined her mother’s life.
“This is nuts,” she told herself as she watched him through the windshield. With the athletic prowess that had tamed more than one bucking bronco, Matt climbed into his truck and started the rig. She threw her own car into gear and followed the glow of his taillights as he drove through town toward the main highway leading north to the Flying M. “Stupid, stupid woman,” she chastised herself. What had she been thinking? Why had she kissed him? Oh, yeah, feminine and professional pride, that had been her reasoning, she thought as she braked for a red light, then caught up with Matt’s truck at the outskirts of town. She didn’t like any man coming on to her and McCafferty had been trying to teach her a lesson, so she’d thrown it back at him, only to have it blow up in her face, as he’d so ineloquently pointed out.
Matt drove a good five miles over the speed limit and she wondered if he was taunting her. She thought of pulling him over just to prove that she could, that he couldn’t get away with breaking any law, but she tamped down the urge. It wouldn’t get her anywhere and she’d already experienced one emotional dressing-down for the night. But…but, if he got reckless or pushed the speed up another five miles an hour, she’d nail him. She’d have to.
* * *
Kurt Striker was already at the house, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands as he sat on the edge of a worn-looking chair. Nicole was seated on the piano bench near Thorne, who leaned back in the recliner. The twins and the baby were already in bed, the house quiet aside from the group clustered in the living room around a coffee table, where an enamel coffeepot, several empty cups and a plate of crackers and cheese were situated. A fire crackled and the odors of coffee and smoke wafted in the air. Kelly stood at the fireplace, warming the back of her legs, and accepted a cup from Matt, who handed it to her and stood next to her, his shoulders braced against the mantel.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Thorne asked, his eyes moving from Kelly to Kurt. Kelly understood what he meant. Kurt was working for the McCaffertys privately; he reported to them rather than the police. Kelly was the law.
“It’s fine, as long as the sheriff’s department agrees to share information.” Kurt leaned back in his chair and eyed Kelly. He could have been Hollywood’s version of a cop. Rugged good looks, straight brown hair, hard-edged features and intense green eyes, he seemed like a man who would bend the law if need be, just to get what he wanted. There was a secretive shadow in his eyes, the kind that Kelly often thought better belonged to criminals. Kurt was lanky and lean, dressed in denim and cowboy boots—as if he were ready for the next take on a weekly detective series.
“We just want to get to the bottom of the attacks on Randi and possibly Thorne as quickly as possible,” she said, “and, of course, arrest the assailant and bring him to trial.”
“Then we’re all on the same page.” Thorne flipped the recliner to a more upright position.
“I assume you’ve already checked my credentials.” Kurt was still staring straight at Kelly, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Matt inch a little closer to her.
“Of course we have.” Kelly nodded. “We’ve scrutinized everyone involved.”
“Good. Then let’s get down to business.” He set his cup on the table. “I just flew in from Seattle where Randi worked. I dealt with the Seattle PD while I was there.”
He said it, Kelly guessed, to put her at ease, to let her know that he was working on the right side of the law, but his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to size her up. “Everything I discuss with you here tonight will be squeaky clean. All according to police procedure. You don’t have to worry that your professionalism will be compromised.”
“Just so we lay out the ground rules.” She didn’t believe him for a second, but he seemed savvy enough to know where she was coming from. “If you broke any laws, you won’t tell me about them and I’m supposed to ignore, not question them, is that it?”
“For the record, I didn’t.”
“Duly noted,” she replied, though she suspected he was lying. She whipped out a pen and notepad just in case he said anything she might want to check into later.
“So what did you find when you were in Seattle?”
He reached into the pocket of his jacket. “To start with, this…” He withdrew a computer disk. “It’s a copy. The Seattle PD have the original.”
“That you found where?”
“Surprisingly the door to Randi McCafferty’s apartment was unlocked. I knocked, no one answered and I walked inside.”
“And found a computer disk that the police had overlooked?” she asked skeptically. She wanted to accuse him of being a bald-faced liar, tell him she damned well knew that he broke into the apartment, but saw no reason for it. Hadn’t she used the same tactics herself? But then she’d bent the law while wearing a badge. This guy was a civilian. She was a cop. Which was worse?
“Not exactly. Let’s just say I found a key to a locker.”
“What locker?” Kelly asked.
“One at the train station.”
“And the disk was in the locker?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you find anything else?”
“Not so far.”
“What’s on it?” Nicole asked, eyeing the computer disk as if it were evil.
“The start of a book. An outline and about three chapters.”
Thorne shoved himself upright. “The book Juanita kept mentioning. I thought it was all just talk.” He struggled onto his crutches and balanced near the bookcase. “Ever since she was a little kid, Randi had a dream of writing a novel of some kind. When she was in grade school, she kept a diary and was always making up little stories, but I thought she gave all that up when she was in junior high and started showing interest in boys and the rodeo. I figured getting a degree in journalism and writing a column for the newspaper was good enough.”
“But she wrote magazine articles as well,” Nicole added, pushing up from the piano bench and standing near Thorne. She ran a finger over a dusty volume of an outdated set of encyclopedias. “I’m sure I read one that was so much like her style, written under the name of R. J. McKay.”