by Pamela Clare
“That’s your advice? Bake him a cake?” Kara rolled her eyes.
Sophie leaned forward as if imparting a secret. “He thought he was protecting you. He got all angry and male for you. He went to the mat for you, Kara.”
Holly groaned. “If you weren’t so damned afraid of men you’d see that. And that creep finally got a bit of what he deserves. I think you-know-who is a hero.”
Kara eyed Holly’s scant dinner of a side salad and a Diet Coke and tried again to change the subject. “And if you didn’t starve yourself to death you wouldn’t be so grouchy.”
“Well, if you don’t appreciate him, I do. I like good, strong men. Can I have his phone number?” Tessa popped a fry in her mouth and met Kara’s glare with innocent blue eyes.
“You’ll have to arm wrestle me, Tess,” said Sophie. “I was going to try to seduce him into having an affair with me behind Kara’s back, but if she’s going to end it—”
“Arm wrestle? Hell, I’ll just hit you on the head with a brick when you’re not looking. I keep one in my purse for just such an occasion.” Tessa smiled sweetly, then bent over to kiss Connor on the head. “Is that tasty, sugar?”
“You two forget that I’ve already met him.” Holly winked at Kara. “If Kara dumps him, he’s mine.”
“You all act like he and I are about ready to register for gifts or something. It’s not like that. There’s no way he and I could ever have a long-term relationship.” Especially now.
Kara had written up eight comprehensive open-records requests before leaving work today. They were the most thorough, far-reaching requests she’d ever written, and one of them had Reece’s name on it. Even if they were able to work past what had happened today, she couldn’t date a man she was investigating.
“Now you sound like Tom.” Tessa made a decidedly unladylike face. “Oh, sometimes I hate that man!”
“You said it, Tess. I can’t believe he asked about the safety of the whistleblower videotapes but had nothing to say about the fact that someone had trashed your home, Kara. You’re more important than frigging tapes. He’s such an insensitive S.O.B.!”
Holly finished her lettuce and gazed longingly at everyone’s fries. “I heard you called him a D-I-C-K. Wish I’d been there to hear it.”
“Yeah, I got myself written up. It was great.” Kara shoved the rest of her guacamole burger aside. She wasn’t hungry tonight. “Tom’s an amazing journalist, you know.”
Tessa popped another fry into her mouth. “Yeah? Well, too bad he’s such a rotten human being.”
“Mommy, can I go see the race car?” Connor fidgeted impatiently in his booster chair.
“Are you full?”
“Yes, he is.” Holly stood and lifted him to the ground. “I’ve got a pocket full of quarters just for you, Connor. You and Auntie Holly are going to play with the arcade games while your mommy has a nice chat with her friends.” Then Holly leaned in and whispered to Tess and Sophie loudly enough for Kara to hear. “Get details! I want to know what he’s like in bed!”
Kara wished she could share in her friends’ good humor, but as she watched Holly lead Connor down the balloon-filled hallway, all she could feel was a dark hole in her chest.
REECE DROPPED the empty carton of Chinese takeout into the trash and glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven. Outside his window, the lights of Denver sparked white in the darkness, the streets almost empty. He could finish reading this last bill, head over to the twenty-four-hour gym for a hard workout, and make it home to bed by two. And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d be able to lie down in his bed, alone, and not think of Kara.
He needed the workout. He’d been a senator for two years now, and today was easily his most frustrating day in office. And not just because he’d ended up on the front page of the state section and hurt the woman who mattered most to him. His call to legislative legal had ended with stonewalling. The person who had promised so helpfully to track down a list of Kara’s open-records requests had put him on hold for almost twenty minutes before telling him she’d made a mistake. It would be impossible for the state’s attorney to give him that information because most requests didn’t come through their office, she’d said. Reece knew a lame excuse when he heard one, and he’d realized immediately that he was getting the runaround. He’d asked to speak with the state attorney himself and gotten only voicemail.
Then he’d had to watch as his fellow senators had killed his urban-growth bill by a mere two votes. Devlin had lobbied hard against that one and had leered like a street thug when the final vote was counted. Reece doubted Devlin actually had anything against the bill itself, merely the senator who had proposed it. If Reece were to carry a bill declaring the earth round and the sky blue, the bastard would probably vote against it, too.
He glanced back down at the page, tried to concentrate on the words, and saw green-gold eyes. If all she wanted with him was sex, he wasn’t interested. She meant too much to him for him to settle for them being mere sex buddies. But what were they then? They’d never had the relationship talk because she’d avoided it. He hadn’t pushed because there’d been no reason to force the issue. And, truth be told, his feelings for her had taken him by surprise. He’d expected good conversation and good sex. What he hadn’t expected was for her to move so quickly into the center of his universe.
But was he at the center of hers? No, that space was reserved for Connor, and he couldn’t argue with that. Nor did it bother him that so far he’d had to do almost all of the giving. He knew she’d been badly hurt. He was more than willing to do more than his share and see where it took them. But what he couldn’t tolerate was being shut out.
He looked out the window into the darkness and considered something that hadn’t occurred to him before. Was it possible that he’d connected with her precisely because she shut him out? Was he still the hurt little boy whose mother had left him?
No, he decided. That was behind him.
He stood, tossed his tie and a stack of unread bill summaries into his briefcase, and clicked it shut. She was angry, and she had every right to be. He would call her tomorrow, and somehow they would work through this.
He locked up his office and walked down the empty hallway toward the elevators, his shoes making clicking sounds against the polished marble. When he rounded the corner, he saw Alexis standing there, dressed to win votes in a fitted suit of mauve silk. She was talking to one of the newer House members, her hand on his arm.
On second thought, Reece would take the stairs.
KARA STARED at the ceiling in her darkened bedroom, unable to sleep. She could smell him on the pillows, spice and man. She could smell both of them, the scent of sex lingering in sheets she hadn’t had time to change. She glanced at her clock.
It was eleven-ten. He was still awake. She could call his cell, apologize for being so cold to him, and thank him for the flowers. It was true that what he’d done had hurt her, but she knew he hadn’t meant things to turn out that way.
He went to the mat for you, Kara.
Sophie’s words echoed in her mind, not for the first time since dinner. Had a man ever stood up for her like this before, risked anything for her before? Her father hadn’t. Galen hadn’t. Tom hadn’t.
Kara flicked on her bedside light, picked the paper up off the floor where she’d dropped it, and read what they’d quoted Reece as saying.
Sheridan then shouted, “Maybe you didn’t want a child, but you sure as hell were enthusiastic about [expletive deleted] her, weren’t you? A pretty young woman right out of college looks good to a middle-aged lawyer. Did you enjoy her? Did you brag to your friends how clever you were when you abandoned her?”
It was almost painful to read the words, even more difficult to see the photograph of Reece glaring angrily into Galen’s face—her present and her past colliding where everyone could see it, read about it.
But one thing was clear. Reece had stood up for her.
God, how she wanted to call him. Bu
t nothing changed the fact that he was now part of her investigation. And no matter what she felt for him, no matter how badly she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t compromise the investigation.
She had just switched off her light when she heard the unmistakable sound of something moving on her deck. Her pulse skipped, and she found herself on her feet, staring down the dark hallway toward the kitchen, panic button in hand.
You’re being silly, McMillan. It’s just raccoons.
Irritated with herself, she went to shoo them away.
CHAPTER 19
* * *
KARA HURRIED down the hallway, past Connor’s darkened room, past the bathroom with its reassuring nightlight, feeling strangely naked in her nightgown. The kitchen floor was cold against her feet as she stepped silently toward the sliding glass door.
Behind her the refrigerator kicked on and made her jump.
Outside, something was moving.
Raccoons, McMillan. Cute, furry garbage-eaters.
She hesitated for a moment, then swore at herself. She was letting the bastards get to her, allowing the threats and the break-in to make her afraid. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, took one last step, and pushed the curtain aside.
Beyond the deck, two raccoons ran for the cover of darkness.
Kara heaved a sigh of relief and watched as their fat, ringed tails disappeared into the shadows beyond the range of the porch light. She would have to move the birdfeeders. She didn’t want to deal with this silliness every night.
The man appeared out of nowhere. Dressed in black, he was just there, a dark shadow against the glass. As if in slow motion, he raised his hand.
A gun.
Kara’s heart gave a violent lurch, one hard hammer stroke of terror. She dove for the cover of the cupboards on her right, a strangled scream in her throat, fear like poison in her veins. Then she remembered what she held in her hand, and she pressed the panic button once, twice, three times.
There was a loud pop and the sound of breaking glass. He was using bullets to break through the door. And when he got in he would use bullets on her.
She was on her feet and running before he fired the second shot, only one thought in her mind.
Connor. She had to protect Connor.
She could hear him crying, hear him calling for her. He stood in the hallway in his Power Ranger pajamas, teddy bear clutched in his arms. He started to run toward her.
She held out her hand to stop him. “No! Go back! Get under your bed, Connor! Go! Hide! Now! Run!”
“Mommy!” The fear and confusion on his face broke her heart.
“Connor, listen to me! There’s a bad man! Get under your bed! Hide fast! Good boy! Quiet now! Stay there! Don’t come out no matter what, do you hear me?”
Shattered glass fell like rain against the kitchen floor, followed by the heavy tread of booted feet. He was coming for her.
She had to fight him. She had to fight him to protect Connor. But she had nothing.
She jerked open the coat closet, grabbed Connor’s little wooden baseball bat, then pressed herself up against the hallway wall, heartbeat thrumming sickeningly in her ears, her blood turned to ice.
“Come here, bitch, and I’ll go easy on you.” His voice was close, just around the corner by the refrigerator. “You might even like it.”
She forced herself to wait, held her breath. And then she saw it. The tip of his boot. She leapt out and swung the bat as hard as she could toward his face. “Not in this lifetime, you bastard!”
He bellowed in outrage as the bat struck his bent arms and drove the gun against his nose. The gun flew from his grasp, slid out of sight under the kitchen table.
She swung again, aiming for his head.
But this time he was ready. One hand still pressed to his bleeding nose, he deflected the blow, yanked the bat from her arms, and threw it aside. He was a big man and outweighed her by a hundred pounds.
She ran for the front door, hoping to lure him outside, away from Connor.
But he was fast. She’d only just turned the deadbolt when he grabbed her hair and jerked her painfully backward.
His breath was hot and foul on her cheek. “Fucking bitch! You broke my nose!”
“Tell someone who cares!” She drove an elbow into his gut and encountered a wall of muscle.
Where were the police? What if the button hadn’t worked?
He slammed her into the door as if she were a rag doll. “I want the tapes. I want the documents. And you’re going to fetch them for me like a good little girl.”
So it was Northrup. Anger swelled from inside her and blotted out her fear. “Go to hell!”
He hurled her across the room. “Stupid bitch, you don’t get it, do you?”
She fell across the coffee table, heard bone break and felt the air leave her lungs in a painful rush. She rolled to the floor, tried to crawl away, but the toe of his boot caught her in the stomach and left her gasping in pain. She rolled onto her back, kicked at him, striking his knee and stomach.
He grunted and swore, blood still pouring heavily from his nose. Then his fist caught her cheek and sent a shockwave of light, of agony, through her brain.
She was only vaguely aware of the hands that lifted her nightgown, of the tears that trickled down her cheeks, of the knee that forced her thighs apart or the hands that encircled her throat and squeezed.
“When I’m done with you, you’ll do anything I tell you to do. Or maybe I should let you die with me inside you.”
Then the room exploded.
REECE SLIPPED a jazz mix into his CD player, turned east on Fourteenth, and headed toward the gym. He resisted the urge to turn left onto Corona, and instead let the street pass. She was probably asleep by now. If he showed up on her doorstep at eleven-fifteen at night, he would probably succeed only in scaring her. He needed to give her space, give her time to work through whatever she was feeling. A little time to think wouldn’t hurt him, either. Or so he told himself.
Ahead of him, the blue-white-red of police lights flashed as two squad cars raced toward him, headed west. He pulled over to the side of the road. They were running silent, doing at least fifty. Then they slowed and, one by one, turned left onto Corona, their lights filling his rearview mirror.
Kara.
He waited until the last car had passed, then pulled an illegal U-turn and followed them, hoping to God he was wrong. But the squad cars had already pulled to a stop in front of her house, joining a third that was parked in her driveway. Two armed officers raced toward the front door, while two more circled toward the backyard.
“Damn it!” Reece pulled over, leapt from his Jeep, and ran.
“Stop where you are! Police!”
It took a moment for him to realize the command was meant for him. He stopped and raised his arms. “I’m Sen—”
Beefy hands slammed into his back. “Lie down on your stomach, hands behind your head! Now!”
Seething, Reece knew he had no choice unless he wanted holes in a few vital organs. He lay flat on the pavement and locked his hands behind his head. “I’m Senator Reece Sheridan. This is my girlfriend’s house.”
“Stay down!” A cop kicked his legs apart and began to pat him down.
“My ID is in my rear pocket. This is my girlfriend’s house, and I need to know if she and her son are all right!”
The cop’s hands roamed over his torso and then reached for his wallet. “I don’t care who you are. Stay down!”
“Let the senator up, Fisher.” It was Chief Irving’s voice. “Sorry, Senator. The men are just doing their job.”
Reece rose and took his wallet from the cop’s hands. “Thanks. Where’s Kara? What happened?”
A burst of static came over Chief Irving’s radio. “Affirmative. We need an ambulance and a body bag. Someone needs to call out the medical examiner and Child Protective Services. There’s a little kid in here scared to death.”
Body bag. Medical
examiner.
“Christ, Kara!” Reece ran, heedless of Chief Irving’s shouts, heedless of the fact that everyone around him was armed. He pushed through the front door and then he saw her.
She lay on her back on the carpet, pale as death, the white of her nightgown stained with blood, her face bruised. Dark bruises ringed her throat. Her nightgown rode high on her thighs, as if she’d been raped.
But she was shivering. She was alive.
A mixture of relief and helpless rage surged through him, and he threaded his way past the uniforms to her side.
“Who the hell are you?” A cop grabbed his shoulder.
Reece brushed the hand away, knelt next to her, and cupped her cheek. “Kara, sweetheart, can you hear me? It’s Reece.”
Her head turned toward him, and her eyes fluttered open. Her voice was weak, her breathing erratic. “Reece?”
“I’m right here. You’re going to be okay, Kara. An ambulance is on its way.”
She shivered violently, clearly in shock. “Connor. Help him.”
He gave her hand a squeeze, slipped out of his jacket, and covered her with it. “I’ll watch over him.” He turned to the cops. “Where’s the boy?”
“He’s under his bed, and he won’t come out.”
Reece started down the hallway but stopped when he saw the body sprawled on the kitchen floor in a pool of crimson.
“He dove for that piece.” The cop nodded toward a Glock .45 auto that lay on the floor like an abandoned toy. “Now he’s dead. Looks like she roughed him up some. Not his night.”
“No.” Reece turned his back on death and followed the sound of a child’s crying. He found an officer crouched down next to Connor’s bed, crooning to the boy, who called for his mother with a tiny, frightened voice. No doubt the officer’s uniform and gun were doing little to soothe the child’s fears. “Leave me alone with him, please.”