by Terri Reid
“Oh, aye, there’s nothing like a trip to the emergency room to make a body feel better about life,” he teased.
She laughed and nodded. “Okay, I’ve been better,” she admitted.
“Well, I’ve come with some interesting news that I hope will make your recovery a little easier,” he said. “First, I’ve asked to be assigned to guard your room tonight. I’ll not be trusting anyone else on the force right now.”
“Thank you, Da,” Art said.
Timothy nodded. “And, at Art’s request, I’ve been in touch with a judge friend of mine,” he added. “Judge Tomlinson. She helped me with a similar case a number of years ago, and I believe her to be an honest person. She made a call to the 17th District and asked that both Art and Sam be assigned to a special case she’s working on. She told them it was a confidential case and couldn’t disclose the details, but she’d be needing them indefinitely.”
“What did they say?” Sam asked.
Smiling, Timothy winked at Sam. “Ah, well, you don’t want to make a judge angry now, do you?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “As of this evening, you are both assigned to the Blackwood Files. Although that name is just between the few of us here.”
Brooke smiled at Timothy. “Thank you,” she said. “I know my father would thank you if he were here.”
Timothy cocked his head slightly and smiled back at her. “Aye, and he might just be here at that,” he said. “He’s got a bit of unfinished business, doesn’t he?”
Chapter Thirty-eight
“This all seems to be careening out of control,” Brooke said. “If Reece was behind Niki’s attack, then he’s not the person I thought he was. Getting me fired and trying to force me to leave the country was bad, but this…”
“Well, we don’t know he did this,” Art said.
“But we’ve got a pretty good idea,” Sam inserted. “I’m not a man who believes in coincidence.”
“It seems to me that the best strategy would be to make Reece think that you don’t suspect him of anything,” Timothy said. “If you’re not a threat, he’s not going to be watching you.”
“And he’s not going to be putting roadblocks in our way,” Brooke added, nodding approvingly at Timothy. “That’s brilliant.”
“So, let’s put together a plan,” Sam said.
A clatter on the other side of the door sent the room into immediate silence. Art walked back to the hospital room door, peeked up and down the hall and then closed it securely behind him. “There’s no one out there,” he said. “So we have a few minutes to make sure we have a story that stops any suspicion. So, Sam, how did you happen to be at Niki’s apartment building?”
“Well, when Tom was playing you at Brooke’s house, Reece happened to mention that Brooke would probably be at Niki’s place hiding out,” Sam said. “So I must have been at Niki’s to get Brooke to sign the complaint against Jacarius.”
Art smiled. “Perfect.”
“And why are you here with me?” Brooke asked.
Art shook his head. “I’m not here with you,” he explained with a smile. “I’m here to check up on Sam.”
“Oh, excellent,” Brooke said.
“And I have no idea why these guys jumped me in my garage,” Niki added. “I was at my office doing some work. And, although I did a favor for my girlfriend, I didn’t do any other searches that would cause someone to do this to me.”
Brooke sighed. “I should probably call my dad and let him know that I lost my job,” she said. “And I’m wondering if it had to do with Jacarius. And, just in case he was trying something, I had Niki move my funds to a more secure banking situation.”
“Perfect,” Art said.
“Now, what’s our next step?” Sam asked.
“They want to keep me here overnight for observation,” Niki said. “So, I’m out of the picture.”
“And I’ll be right outside your door,” Timothy said. “So you needn’t worry about anything happening to you.”
“So, I’m good for tonight,” Niki replied. “But I’m not crazy about going back to my place tomorrow.”
“Oh, good news,” Brooke said ironically. “I bought a house.”
“You did what?” Niki asked.
“I bought a house on the west side of Chicago,” Brooke said, taking a deep breath. “And it’s the house I lived in when my father was killed.”
“Girl, are you crazy?” Niki asked.
“Well, probably yes,” Brooke said. “But other than my first terrified reaction to the kitchen, it’s kind of growing on me. Wait until you see it, Niki, you’ll love it. It’s an old Victorian with three floors and a walk-up attic. It’s huge. The third floor used to be a ballroom that would be perfect for a workspace.”
“Are you asking me to move in there with you?” Niki asked.
“Yes, I am,” Brooke said. “I mean, once you’re up to it.”
“And what are you going to do until she’s up to it?” Art asked.
Brooke shrugged. “I’ll come up with a plan.”
“Is it haunted?” Niki asked.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is,” Brooke replied evenly.
“Well then I’m in for sure,” Niki replied. She turned to Sam. “Do you still have the keys to my apartment?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do,” he replied. “And I guess I’m in charge of moving Brooke’s things from your apartment to her new house, so I suppose Sidney and O’Reilly Moving Company could also pick up some of your things, too.”
Niki smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll make you a list.”
Then she yawned widely and quickly covered her mouth. “I am so sorry,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Art said. “You must be exhausted. I think it’s time the rest of us get out of here.”
Brooke walked back over to the bed and leaned over her friend. She pressed a kiss to her friend’s forehead. “Get some sleep,” she ordered. “And try to listen to the doctors, okay?”
Niki nodded. “I’ll try.”
Sam looked down at her. “You’ve got my cell number, right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Okay, you need anything you call me,” he insisted. “Day or night.”
“Thanks I will,” she promised.
“Okay, Da, she’s in your hands,” Art said, giving his dad a hug. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said, and then he lowered his voice. “You just watch out for Brooke.”
“I planning on it, Da,” he said. “I’m planning on it.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
“I think I ought to spend the night at my parents’ home,” Brooke said as they left the hospital and walked toward Art’s car.
“What? Are you kidding me?” Art asked. “Your father might have just called in a hit on Niki, and you want to walk right into his lair?”
Sighing, she shook her head. “It isn’t a lair, Art,” she replied. “It’s a home. It’s my home; it’s where I was raised.” She put up her hand to stop his next sentence. “And if we are going to have any luck convincing him that we aren’t suspicious of what he’s doing, this is the first, best step.”
Art walked over and opened the car door for her, and Brooke slipped inside. He closed it and walked around, his fists clenched in frustration. She’s right, dammit.
He climbed in on the other side of the car and sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, his hands on the steering wheel. Finally, he sighed. “You’re right,” he said, grinding his teeth. “You’re right, but I don’t like it.”
Brooke reached over and placed her hand on his arm. She was surprised to feel the tension in his arm, the hard, contracted muscle as he held tightly to the steering wheel. “Art,” she said calmly, biting back a smile. “I won’t take any risks. I promise. I’ll lock my bedroom door. I’ll sleep with my cell phone.”
He turned to her, his eyes blazing with anger. “You saw what he did to Niki,” he said
, his voice soft and deep. “You saw the brutality he allowed. You may think you are safe with him, but that’s a façade. We saw what the real man is capable of tonight.”
Her smile faded, and her stomach clenched. He was right. She didn’t really know this man she’d called her father for most of her life.
“You’re right,” she replied, nodding. “But if nothing else, I need to warn my mother.” She paused for a moment, remembering the conversation she had with her mother earlier that day. “I think she suspects something, but she has no idea how…”
“How vicious he can be?” Art asked.
Brooke nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”
Reaching down, Art turned the ignition, and the car sprung to life. “Where do you live?” he asked.
“Kenilworth,” she replied.
He sent her a deliberate smile. “Well, of course you do.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, feigning offense, but actually feeling relieved that Art was teasing her again.
He shrugged, and his smile widened. “I don’t know, little rich girl, what is that supposed to mean?” he taunted. “Shall we call ahead and have James get a bath ready for you?”
“If I had a butler,” she replied, “which I don’t, just to make it clear. But, if I had a butler, his name would be Alfred, and he would be getting the Batmobile ready for me.”
Art snorted. “Oh, so you’d be Batman?”
“Actually Batwoman,” she replied with a smile.
“So what would that make me?” he asked. “And if you say Robin, I’m pulling over to the curb, and you can walk your Bat-ass the rest of the way home.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Okay, so I won’t go there for sure,” she teased. “But, you would have looked good in those tights. Just saying.”
He turned to her for a quick moment before placing his attention back on the traffic, and she saw the teasing in his eyes. “Yeah, well not everyone can pull off tights,” he quipped.
She laughed, and it felt wonderful. It was the first time in days that she actually felt the fear and tension leave her body. “How about Commissioner Gordon?” she asked.
“He was old,” Art complained.
“Well, who would you like to be?” she asked.
He maneuvered around a slower moving car and then took the exit ramp off Lake Shore Drive towards Brooke’s apartment. “Thor,” he finally said. “I’d like to be Thor.”
She glanced at the man next to her, his blonde hair, blue eyes, muscled physique, and most important, his inherent goodness. “Yeah,” she said, nodding in agreement. “You’d make a good Thor.”
He looked at her. “No arguments about Thor not being in Gotham City?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I think Gotham City could use a Thor about now,” she said.
He pulled into the garage entrance, used the key she’d given him to gain entrance and then continued up the ramp. Her car was sitting in her parking spot, instead of in front of the bar where she’d left it. She turned to Art.
“How did my car get back here?” she asked.
“Niki gave the extra set of keys to Tom,” he explained. “We thought you’d want your car.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “That was very thoughtful.”
“Are you going up to your apartment before you go to your parents?” he asked.
“Yeah, I want to pick up a couple things,” she said with a nod.
“I’ll go up with you,” he stated, and his tone did not allow room for discussion.
They walked from the car to the elevator, and Brooke shook her head. “Was it only this morning that we were carrying files from your car up the freight elevator?” she asked. “It seems like a lifetime ago.”
“It was a lifetime ago,” he agreed. “And for better or worse, all of our lives have changed.”
Chapter Forty
Brooke inserted the key and smiled back at Art when it turned in the lock. “See,” she said looking over her shoulder at him. “No problems.”
She pushed the door open and gasped in dismay. Her apartment had been ransacked. Bookshelves were empty, their contents strewn across the floor. File drawers had been pulled out and papers and files were all over the floor. The contents of her kitchen cabinets had been emptied onto the countertops and floor.
Brooke sighed brokenly and waded through the mess toward her bedroom.
Art pulled his phone out and called his brother. “Hey, it’s Art,” he said when his brother answered. “When did you leave Brooke’s place?”
“About six or so,” Tom replied. “Why?”
“We just got here, and the entire place has been tossed,” Art said.
“Damn. It was pretty pristine when we left,” Tom said. “So, whoever did it must have come in right after we left.”
“Okay, thanks,” Art said.
“Call me if I can help,” Tom said.
“I will,” Art said, hanging up the phone.
He followed Brooke into her bedroom where she was sitting on the edge of her bed. Her back was turned toward him, and he could tell that she was softly weeping. Before his mind registered his actions, he was across the room, sitting next to her and pulling her into his arms. She didn’t resist but lay her head against his chest and let the emotions and tension from the past twenty-four hours escape through tears. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this,” she whispered.
“Sure you can,” he gently encouraged. “You’re a kick-ass lawyer; you can handle anything.”
She lifted her head and looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and overflowing with tears. Her pale cheeks were washed with tracks from the tears, and her mouth was soft and trembling. He swore softly under his breath, knowing he shouldn’t do what he was about to do. But he also knew he couldn’t stop himself. With a whispered sigh, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own.
His touch was electric. Brooke felt the kiss through her entire body, flames and desire. She leaned closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, moaning softly as he deepened the kiss and tasted her.
He was drowning, but he didn’t want to come up for air. Her taste, her touch and her scent wrapped around him and pulled him further in. This was no longer a kiss of comfort or even a kiss of discovery. No, this was a kiss of destiny, and he knew the longer it lasted the more ensnared he would be.
Unbidden, the memory of Marilyn laughing in another man’s arms entered his mind. Her look of contempt and pity for his declaration of love still hurt. Fear and doubt doused the flames of passion almost immediately, and he gently pulled away from Brooke.
The look on her face, confused desire, made his heart sink. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean…”
You didn’t mean…to what? She thought frantically. To knock me off my foundation? To turn my heart upside down? To stop just before I would offer you something I’ve never offered another man before?
She scrambled backwards away from him and placed her fingers on her lips, still throbbing from his onslaught.
“Brooke,” he said, regret evident in his voice. “I didn’t mean—”
“Please stop,” she begged, grateful she could finally find her voice. She took a calming but unsteady breath and met his eyes. “We’ve both been under tremendous pressure these past twenty-four hours. You were offering comfort, and we got carried away. Totally understandable. It’s just human nature. Survival instinct kicks in, and you do things you normally wouldn’t do.”
She took another deep breath, grateful that her voice was steady and her outward composure was cool. “Really. It was no big deal,” she said, pasting a polite smile on her lips. “So, if you’d go back in the other room and call the police so we can report the burglary, I’ll gather my overnight bag, and we can both get on with our lives.”
He didn’t know why he felt so distraught. Her words were exactly what he wanted to hear, weren’t they? He didn’t want a relationship. He di
dn’t trust women anymore. He just wanted to be a good detective.
He finally nodded and smiled back at her. “Okay, good idea,” he said, getting up and walking back into the living room.
Brooke waited until he was on the other side of the apartment before she got up, walked into her adjoining bathroom and closed the door. She looked around, picked up a bottle of body lotion and threw it against the wall with all her might. The plastic bottle cracked against the shower’s tile, and light, cream-colored lotion oozed down the grey ceramic tiles. She stared at the shattered bottle with an unmistakable feeling of satisfaction. “Nobody better try anything else with me tonight,” she muttered defiantly. “Because I’m pissed, and I’m not taking any prisoners.”
Chapter Forty-one
The drive to her parents’ home took her a little longer than the last trip. Instead of speeding, her car was maintaining the speed limit as her mind raced along at warp speed. As she drove up Lake Shore Drive, she tried not to think about what had just happened in her apartment, not only the kiss, which she found she could still taste, but also the way Art had treated her once the police officers had come to investigate her break-in. He’d been thoughtful, protective, but not overbearing at all. She could feel his strength and support, but he didn’t try to take over. Damn it, what was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he make it easy on her and act like a jerk?
The report had been filed. Pictures had been taken. And she notified the front lobby of the incident. But she really couldn’t tell if anything had been taken because she didn’t know what Niki, Sam and Tom had packed up and brought over to Niki’s place. She didn’t want to tell anyone about her preemptive move, so she just explained that she was too overwhelmed to sort through it and she’d get back to them.
The most ironic thing had been when the officers told her there was no forced entry. Someone had a key. Just moments earlier she’d been trying to convince Art that her stepfather wasn’t all that bad and wouldn’t hurt her. And yet, he was the only one who would have given out her key. What if she’d been home? Would she have found herself in the same situation as Niki? An involuntary shudder passed through her body as she thought about how vulnerable she would have been, caught in her apartment by herself.