A Reason to Believe

by Diana Copland

  Never before had he understood so completely what dead meant. He’d seen bodies, but never of someone close to him. That day changed his perception forever. Dead meant whatever had animated the body—the spirit, the soul, whatever—was gone. Just…gone.

  When he went back to work after his fateful performance at the funeral, most of the men he worked with pretended he was invisible. But they were all united in their efforts to prevent him from seeing Brad’s case file. It had been kept under lock and key, and he’d had to wait until late on a Friday afternoon, when he was nearly alone, before he’d been able to get his hands on it.

  He’d been a detective for five years, a patrol officer for five before that. He’d seen about everything. And the crime scene photos weren’t any worse than those he’d seen a hundred times before. Except…except…

  He blinked quickly as the images flooded his mind.

  “Don’t.”

  He jerked when a firm hand closed over his rigid forearm.

  “Don’t go there. I didn’t say it so you would go there, and he wouldn’t want you to remember him that way. I only said it so you would understand why I said what I did to Karen.”

  Matt looked over, surprised to find Kiernan’s eyes so close. He’d taken off his seat belt and was leaning across the center console. His expression was filled with both understanding and concern. Unexpectedly, Matt felt a surge of irritation.

  “What do you know about it?” he snapped. “So you talk to dead people all the time, but do you know any of them? Or do you just make shit up in order to perpetuate your scam?” His voice shook and he looked away, staring angrily through the windshield. He tried to shake off the hand on his arm, but Kiernan’s grip tightened.

  “Take a deep breath,” Kiernan said, his voice low and soothing. “And then pull over and stop.”

  Matt inhaled deeply. He pulled over to the curb, allowing the Bronco to idle, and rubbed his gloved hands over his face.

  “I’m sorry.” Kiernan moved his hand up and down Matt’s arm. “I never should have said it while you were driving. It was thoughtless. I’m so sorry.”

  Matt let his hands drop into his lap. “No, I’m sorry. There was no need for me to be such an ass.” He looked over at Kiernan and found him studying his face with understanding. “How did you…? Sheila.” An alarming thought entered his head and his eyes sought Kiernan’s. “It was Sheila, right? It wasn’t…”

  “Yes, Sheila told me.”

  “I was afraid…” Matt stopped, chagrined. He’d just accused the man of being a fraud, and now he was wondering if he’d chatted up his dead lover. “She told you—when?”

  “This morning, on the way to the station. I knew there was something and someone, but she thought I should know the details. I think she sort of hopes…” Kiernan let his voice trail away and leaned back into his seat.

  “Yeah, I’m sure she does,” Matt said dryly. “So,” he swallowed heavily, unable to prevent himself from asking, “he isn’t…”

  Kiernan held his gaze for a suspended moment before slowly shaking his head. “Not that I’ve seen.”

  Matt felt a baffling mix of disappointment and relief. “Why, do you suppose?”

  “I imagine because he was satisfied with his life. Oh, I don’t mean the way it ended. I don’t believe for a moment he was ready to be done, not at his age. Not with you to come home to.” A soft smile pulled at Kiernan’s full lips. “But he’d loved completely, hadn’t he? And been loved the same?”

  Matt hesitated briefly and nodded.

  “In my experience, that’s the deciding factor. If we love, and are loved, then our journey on can be made without regret. That’s why he could move on.”

  Matt studied him in the dim light, taking in the intelligent eyes, the even, handsome features. “I guess those are all the same reasons I haven’t been able to,” he admitted finally. “I miss it, having that.”

  “There’s nothing says you can’t have it again.”

  Matt licked his dry lips. “The idea of trying terrifies me,” he confessed, surprised he’d said it aloud. He hadn’t said it to anyone. But every time anyone approached him, and men had, he hid behind his grief. Unable to bear the idea of putting himself out there again, or opening himself up to renewed pain, he’d studiously avoided entanglements.

  It was easier to be alone.

  Kiernan leaned forward, his elbow on the console between the seats, and propped his jaw on his hand. “You know, there’s this great movie. Strictly Ballroom. Have you seen it?”

  Matt frowned, startled at the turn in the conversation. “I…don’t know. I might have.”

  “If you had, you’d remember,” Kiernan said brightly. “There’s this guy in it, Paul Mercurio. Used to be a professional ballet dancer. Has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of.” Matt huffed out a surprised chuckle. “Anyway, there’s a line from it I’m going to paraphrase because I don’t remember it exactly, but the sentiment stuck with me because I agree with it. Basically it goes, ‘A life lived in fear is a life half lived.’”

  Matt felt his stiff facial muscles begin to thaw. “Sounds like something you’d have on a T-shirt.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” His smile remained as his eyes searched Matt’s face. “But it’s true. You deserve better than half a life. I understand why you’re scared. It’s a perfectly natural response to what’s happened to you. But I think you’re missing out on opportunities to find happiness again by closing yourself off.”

  Matt stared into the blue eyes, studying the steadiness of them, the openness. He was sure he’d never looked so trusting, or allowed himself that kind of unflinching vulnerability. His gaze dropped to the full lips.

  “Is that what I’m doing?” he murmured, lifting his hand, hesitating just a moment before touching Kiernan’s cheek. Kiernan turned his face into Matt’s palm, and he felt a surge of tenderness mingled with desire. His thumb stroked the skin just beneath Kiernan’s soft lower lip. “Closing myself off?”

  Kiernan slid his fingers around Matt’s wrist. “You have been. And no man as beautiful as you are should be alone.”

  Kiernan’s eyes were riveted on his, and Matt finally understood the possibility of getting lost in someone’s eyes. He also wanted, for the first time in a very long time, to kiss someone.

  He angled his head, closing the distance between them with little effort, and brushed his lips against Kiernan’s.

  It was less a kiss than a caress, and when he drew back, Kiernan made a soft sound in the back of his throat. It was amazing, what he managed to convey with the sound—relief, longing, desire. It was the desire that affected Matt the most, and he felt the reassuring tingling of an uncomplicated want.

  “Again?” he whispered.

  “Oh, yes,” Kiernan answered. Matt slipped his hand around Kiernan’s neck, cradled the back of his head in his palm and pulled him back in.

  There was nothing tentative about the next kiss.

  Lips merged and opened, and Matt sought the heat of Kiernan’s mouth with his tongue. He tasted of red wine and dark chocolate, and Matt sought out the flavors, savoring them. Kiernan’s tongue was slick and as mobile as the rest of him, circling Matt’s, stroking, catching it for a moment to suck. Heat surged in Matt’s groin, and his fingers tightened on Kiernan’s neck.

  Matt deepened the kiss. Kiernan’s arm snaked around his neck, fingers sliding into the hair on the back of his head. Matt groaned into his open mouth, his free arm circling the slender body, and Kiernan surged forward, crawling over the divider, closing the distance between them. His knee slid between Matt’s legs, pressing up against his balls, and Matt gasped at the longing that shot through him. He pulled him in and held on tight, relishing the strong chest pressed against his.

  A wash of light illuminated the cab of the Bronco like the flash of a
camera strobe, and they separated with a startled jerk. Matt’s first instinct was to search for a photographer, but he realized a car was approaching slowly down the deserted street. The driver had switched on his bright lights in the gloom. Relieved it wasn’t paparazzi, Matt exhaled shakily. Kiernan withdrew to his own seat as the car crept past.

  “Sorry,” Kiernan said, his fingers lightly touching his swollen lips. “I got carried away. I shouldn’t have jumped you like that…”

  Matt caught Kiernan’s hand, squeezing firmly. Startled eyes turned to him.

  “Don’t apologize,” Matt said. “Unless you’re really sorry.”

  A slow smile lit Kiernan’s face. “I’m not. I just thought you might be.”

  “I’m not,” he said, faintly startled to find it was true. “But I think we should probably pick this up later, someplace roomier and more private. I’m too old to be making out in my car.”

  “You’re never too old to make out in your car,” Kiernan countered. “You’d have to be pretty athletic to fuck in this one, but I’ll bet it could be done.”

  Matt stared at him. “You,” he said pointedly, “say the damnedest things.” Kiernan’s laugh was infectious. “Put on your seat belt.” Matt fought a smile as he put the car into gear.

  When they arrived at the Hilton, Matt pulled around and parked near the entrance to the loading dock. The night manager had suggested they continue to use the back entrance as a precaution. The snow had been pushed to the curb by the plows and was nearly knee deep. Kiernan was struggling as he tried to make his way through it, using the car to steady himself.

  Matt grinned. “Problems?”

  “Oh, shut up. Just because your legs are so damned long.”

  “But you think the snow is cool, remember?”

  Kiernan finally hopped over the berm, catching himself on the hood when his feet slipped out from under him. He gave Matt a disgruntled look. “Okay, so maybe this part is a pain in the ass.” He straightened, brushing his hands off on his pants.

  Matt heard the sound of an engine and glanced over his shoulder. A dark sedan was heading toward them, tires nearly silent, its headlights cutting a path through the drifting snow. Something about the car struck Matt as being off. Even in the bitter cold, the driver’s window was open. A gloved hand emerged.

  He didn’t make a conscious decision to move. It was training, and instinct. One moment he was standing by the driver’s door, the next he was grabbing Kiernan around the waist and throwing him to the snowy ground. He heard the telltale noise of a silencer as the shooter clicked off round after round, the sound magnified by the odd acoustics created by the snowy street. Falling heavily on top of Kiernan, Matt shielded him with his body. Muffled thuds sounded around him as bullets hit the snow. Small geysers of ice arced up from the impact, covering him in crystals.

  “Matt!” Kiernan’s hands curled into Matt’s shoulders. A sharp metallic clang rang out as a bullet slammed into the side of the Bronco right above their heads, and Matt flinched reflexively. Another bullet thudded into the snow next to Kiernan’s shoulder, and Matt had a glimpse of frightened eyes. He shifted quickly, shoving Kiernan under the Bronco.

  Matt steeled himself for pain, waiting for a bullet to find his exposed back. Instead, he heard the sedan’s wheels spinning in the snow and looked over his shoulder to see it speeding off down the street. The reason for the hasty departure became clear when a pickup truck headed their way from the other direction, its headlights illuminating the street. Matt exhaled heavily and flopped over onto his back in the snow.

  The truck rolled to a stop. “You fellas okay over there?” a male voice called out.

  Matt pushed himself up onto his elbows, his heart still racing.

  The driver, an older man wearing a dark skullcap, was leaning across the seat to an open window. “Did ya fall on the ice?”

  “Yeah. But I’m okay.” He looked over at Kiernan, who was still lying on his back half under the car, his chest moving rapidly up and down with each noisy breath. “Are you okay?” he asked, touching Kiernan’s arm.

  Kiernan rolled his head on the snow, his pupils frightened pinpoints in the startling blue irises. He nodded.

  Matt turned back to the Good Samaritan. “Yeah, we’re all right. Thanks for asking.”

  “Ya need help getting up?” The man looked like he might open his door, but Matt sat up, waving him away.

  “No. We’re fine, really. Thanks again for stopping.”

  The driver rolled up his window and continued on his way.

  “Are you hurt?” Matt moved his hand to Kiernan’s chest. He could feel his heart racing under his palm.

  “Someone just shot at us, didn’t they?” he asked, his voice strained. Matt nodded. Kiernan was still breathing hard, but to Matt’s surprise, he suddenly looked more excited than frightened. “We’ve rattled someone’s cage then, haven’t we?”

  “We’ve done something,” Matt replied, pushing to his feet. He grabbed Kiernan’s hands and pulled him up. “Come on, back in the Bronco. We can’t stand out here in the open.” He unlocked the driver’s side door. “Get in and crawl over the divider.”

  Kiernan got in without even pausing to brush himself off. “Where are we going?”

  Matt climbed in and slammed the door. “Back to my house. Call your sister and tell her to meet us there with your stuff.” He pulled away from the curb. “Until we know who the hell that was, I’m your new constant companion.”

  “I can live with that,” Kiernan said softly.

  Matt kept his eyes front, scanning the street for any sign of the dark sedan.

  * * *

  “I’m not telling Aidan about this,” Kiernan said emphatically as they walked in through the back door of Matt’s house. Matt flicked the lights on as he passed, shrugging out of his overcoat and tossing it on the kitchen table.

  “That’s your call.” The adrenaline rush was starting to wane, but his nerves were stretched tight as a piano wire, thrumming uncomfortably just beneath the surface of his skin. When he thought of what might have happened if he’d been a second slower, it made him sick to his stomach.

  There had been a telephone conversation between Kiernan and his sister but he hadn’t heard much of it. His heartbeat had been too loud in his ears, his eyes darting from the street to the rearview mirror, searching for anything that might indicate the dark sedan was following them.

  “She’s already unhappy about my staying behind. If I tell her about what happened, she won’t leave.” Kiernan took off his leather jacket and loosened his tie. “She always has been too much of a mom. She needs to get back and do some things for herself, and I want her as far away from this as possible.”

  Matt jerked his suit jacket off of his shoulders, his agitation suddenly taking the form of anger as he pulled his own tie loose. “If you were smart, you’d go with her.” He saw movement to his left, but he still tensed when he felt a hand come to rest on his back.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Matt shrugged the hand away. “I need to call it in.” He patted down his pockets, searching for his cell phone.

  “Call what in?”

  “It’s called ‘shots fired.’”

  “Matt.” Kiernan caught his arm, and Matt sent him a hard look. He released him and took a step away. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Shots were fired within the city limits, in my city. That may happen all the time in L.A., but here it’s somewhat unusual. I have a responsibility to report it.”

  “Fine, do what you need to do. But you might want to think for just a minute. Shots were fired, yeah, but at us, not at random. And I think it’s pretty clear they had something to do with what happened earlier today. Do you really want to clue your colleagues in on what we were doing this afternoon? I would think the
last thing you need is for Branson to know we were in Abby’s bedroom.”

  Matt stared into the open face and finally nodded, the movement jerky. “Fine. I won’t call it in.”

  Kiernan took a cautious step forward. “Matt.”

  Matt held up a stiff hand. “I need coffee.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Kiernan stayed close, and Matt wished he’d just go away. Instead of ordering him out, he slammed things around. He pulled filters out of the cupboard and threw them onto the counter, and slapped on the tap to fill the glass pot. When he’d added coffee and poured the water into the well, he was trembling so hard he spilled some onto the sink. Infuriated, he punched the On button so hard, the coffeemaker scooted six inches across the countertop.

  Kiernan hopped onto the counter beside him, and Matt looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Putting myself at eye level. Now, are you going to quit acting like an ass and talk to me, or is there some other appliance you’d like to abuse?”

  “You don’t know me well enough to make a comment like that,” Matt hissed through clenched teeth.

  “I know you better than you think,” Kiernan replied, his voice mild. When Matt made a noise of disgust and started to turn away, Kiernan caught his arm in a surprisingly firm grip.

  Matt looked pointedly at his hand and then up into Kiernan’s eyes. “Let. Go.”

  “No. And in regards to how well I do or do not know you, I know that no matter how pissed I make you, you won’t take a swing at me. You’re not a violent man. Believe me, I know plenty about those. You won’t even twist your arm hard enough to get away because you might hurt mine in the process.”