by Sylvie Kurtz
The second thing he did was pay a visit to the jail where Weld had served his time. With Liv standing next to him as if she was shackled to him, he sweet-talked the woman in the jail administrator’s office into letting him take a peek at the list of Weld’s visitors. One of them was Kershaw’s mother. Had she been the go-between to set up the escape plans? More and more it looked as if Kershaw had planned every detail of his escape—right down to the murder of the marshals. Other than his lawyer, the only other visitor Weld received was a woman named Kiki Bates.
“Girlfriend?” he asked the secretary.
She didn’t look up from her work. “I don’t see them.”
“What now?” Liv asked when they got back to the SUV.
“Now we call Kingsley and see what he can dig up on Kiki Bates.”
“And then?”
“We play her.”
Kingsley came up with an address in Nashua. The same one as Nelson Weld. No big surprise. They drove to French Hill and parked in the lot beside an abandoned church. Sebastian called Kiki Bates and got no answer.
“Not home?” Liv asked.
He shook his head.
“So?”
“So we watch and wait.” They sandwiched the SUV between two others where they could have a view of the white building time had turned gray. If he’d hoped the long boring wait would have Liv begging to go home, he’d been wrong. He’d met her attempts at conversation with grunts. Lunchtime came and went. He’d offered her no food. And still Liv didn’t complain.
Finally at three, a woman appeared, balancing a plastic grocery bag in each hand. She wore a leather coat trimmed with fur and high-heeled boots that allowed her only baby steps. When she started to climb the rickety stairs to the second-story apartment Bates shared with Weld, Liv grabbed his forearm and shook it. “She’s here.”
Sebastian dialed Kiki Bates’s number. “Mrs. Weld?”
“There’s no Mrs. Weld here.”
“Oh, well, I’m sorry,” he said, knowing she and Weld weren’t married. “I found this number in Nelson Weld’s wallet—”
“Nelson’s wallet?” Suspicion spiced her voice.
“Yes, I found it, and I was hoping to get hold of him so I could return it. There’s about two hundred bucks in here.”
She wasn’t buying, and he couldn’t really blame her. If she knew anything about Nelson’s situation, she probably suspected a squeeze. The question was, from which side?
“Why don’t you just mail it to the address on the driver’s license? When he gets it, I’ll have him pay you back for postage.”
“Well, I kinda wanted to give it straight to him, you know. With all that money and all.”
“He’ll get it.” Her voice was tight.
“Okay, well, I’ll just turn it in to the police, and he can pick it up there.”
“That’s not going to work.” A note of desperation now. She knew Nelson was in a heap of trouble. So he boxed her in.
“It’s the safest thing to do.” Before she could add anything, he hung up.
Liv gaped at him. “You just let her go like that?”
He’d worked the game before. He knew how it would play out. “We’ll get her back.”
“How?”
“I’ll give her time to think it through and call back.”
Liv leaned against the door. He didn’t like the new gleam in her eyes. “She’ll recognize your voice.”
“You’re not giving me enough credit.”
She tipped her head and the glints of gold in her brown hair caught the edge of the sun. He let the liquid shimmer distract him.
“What if I call?” She sucked in a breath and waited expectantly.
He shook his head. “Out of the question.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not a deputy. You have no authority to act.”
“As I recall, neither do you. You’re supposed to be on vacation. Spending time with your wife who’s recovering from a head injury.”
“I still have the badge.” That was so lame even he couldn’t quite swallow it.
She dug into her purse, took out a pen and ripped a piece of paper from a notepad. With a shaky hand, she sketched a quick facsimile of his badge and affixed it to her chest. “There, so do I.”
“Liv—”
She leaned forward and put two fingers over his lips. The piece of paper fluttered between them. Color blazed her cheeks and fire burned in her eyes. And all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her. “No, Sebastian, listen. Put yourself in her shoes. You’re a man—”
“Last time I checked,” he mumbled through her fingers. The taste of her chiseled off another chip from the stone of his best intentions. How could he keep her safe if he allowed his mind to wander to the bedroom with each bob of her hair, with each touch of her finger, with each glance, instead of keeping it firmly focused on his goal?
“She’s a woman who knows her lover is on the run,” Liv insisted. “She knows he’s in trouble. She’s got you pegged as a cop.”
He grasped her warm fingers from his lips and placed her hand into her lap. “I didn’t talk to her like a cop.”
But those restless fingers didn’t stay still. They crept to his collar and brushed much too softly against his neck. “Now if a woman calls, she might be more receptive.”
“No.” Pulling on her wrists, he unhooked her hands from his collar. Her palms pressed, one into his knee, the other on his thigh. Was she doing this on purpose? He snapped the heat dial to low.
“It makes sense, Sebastian. I’m not a threat to her.”
Only to me. “No.”
Her fingers were dancing now, and he could barely keep attention to the snake charm of her voice. “The faster you catch this guy, the faster he’ll talk, the faster you’ll get to close your case. It’s just common sense.”
The scary part was that her argument was starting to make sense. Either that or his mind had migrated so far south that he’d lost common sense along the way. He jerked the car into gear and drove off.
Martha’s Exchange offered microbrewed beer and homemade candy. In the lull between the lunch rush and before the after-work happy hour, it also offered quiet. He asked for a booth and talked Liv through the call she wanted to make while they munched on club sandwiches.
“Ready?” he asked an hour later. He wasn’t sure he was and still couldn’t figure out how she’d maneuvered him into this corner.
She nodded.
He switched sides so that he was sitting next to her instead of across. He punched in Kiki’s number, handed her the phone and leaned into her so he could listen in. Liv’s pad of paper stretched out in front of them. Her fingers sketched absently as she screwed her face in concentration. When Kiki answered, Liv’s back straightened and she drew back her shoulders.
“Mrs. Weld, my name is Olivia Spence. I’m with the U.S. Marshals Service. A law enforcement officer handed me your husband’s wallet. Based on where the wallet was found, we have reason to believe your husband may have witnessed a crime. We’d like to speak with him. Do you know where we could find him?”
“No, he’s out of town on business right now.”
“It’s important we talk to him. Do you have a number where we can reach him?”
“We’ve had a few problems lately and he left without leaving me any information.”
She was lying. He gave Liv the sign they’d agreed on. She nodded.
“Mrs. Weld, we know your husband was involved in this crime. We have his tag number. We’re closing in on him.”
“Then what do you need me for?”
“I’m going to tell you something that, if I’m asked later, I’ll deny.” She lowered her voice, letting the secret she was spilling ride like fog into the phone. “When we catch Nelson, and we will, he’s a dead man. I overheard a conversation with the FBI officers in charge of the case. They said the only way to stop a cop killer is to kill him. That’s what’s going to happen to your husband, Mrs. W
eld. You have the power to save him.”
“He didn’t kill anyone.” Interesting answer.
“I hear you. And personally, I don’t believe he did. From theft to murder is a big step, and he just doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. But you know how men are. They shoot first and ask questions later.”
Kiki snorted her agreement. “Isn’t that the truth!”
“Ma’am,” Liv said with so much assurance that Sebastian had to wonder when she’d turned into such a good liar. “Do you know any police officers?”
Kiki hesitated. “Yes.”
“Call that officer and ask him, just hypothetically now, ‘Do cop killers ever get killed by cops?’ You ask him, see what he says, then you’ll know I’m on your side. I want him back alive. Dead, he can’t answer my questions. I’m not interested in small fish, Mrs. Weld. I want the big shark.”
Reeled and hung. As arranged, Liv left the number of Sebastian’s cell phone.
It was a gamble. Maybe Kiki really did know a cop. Maybe that cop would deny the truth. But Sebastian knew that the beauty parlor where Kiki worked was busted on a regular basis by vice for their special massages. She wasn’t about to call one of them—not even for Nelson. And there was that two hundred dollars she thought was in the wallet.
She’d call. And for a price, she’d flip.
Chapter Eleven
At ten that evening, Kiki phoned back. “He called.”
Sebastian sat close to Liv on the bed. His arm pressed across her back, and his fist dipped the mattress at her hip. His head tipped into hers as he listened in on the phone call. His proximity was a comfort she relaxed into. Putting herself into his skin, Liv focused on her role as Deputy Marshal Olivia Spence.
“Did he say where he was?” Since Cincinnati, Weld hadn’t used the credit card and had ditched his car. Before playing good citizen, Kiki had probably warned her boyfriend the cops were on his tail.
“N-no.”
The metallic catch of fear rasped through her voice, so Liv pretended to be Kiki’s best friend. “He’s going to be okay. If we find him first, we’ll make sure he’s not hurt. You have any kids?”
“No. We’re talking about starting a family, but he wanted to find a good job first, you know. Get some money in the bank.”
Given the length of Weld’s rap sheet, Liv didn’t think such a drastic change in outlook was likely. But then, look at her. Her life was all turned around. She’d once been content to wait. Now she couldn’t bear all the loss that could fill each pause. A thin ribbon of sadness rippled through her. She reached for Sebastian’s hand and squeezed it tight. His thumb stroked the tops of her fingers, and she relaxed once more. “Yeah, those diapers don’t come cheap.”
Sirens screamed from the TV drama blaring in the background of Kiki’s apartment. “He’s a good man, you know. He’s made a couple of bad choices, but deep down, he’s a good man.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Her gaze sought Sebastian. His eyes were dark, a combination of midnight and stars that seemed to hold all of eternity, yet cradled her like a precious pearl. A good man. But a knight chasing the wrong dragon.
“He’s trying to protect you, that’s why he won’t tell you where he is.” She spoke as much to Sebastian as to Kiki. Did he understand that she needed all of him more than the protection that cut off access to parts of him? “I want you to agree to let me put a trap-and-trace on your phone.”
The flare of TV gunshots stuttered. “You’re not going to hurt him?”
“No, he just has information that can help me find the guy we’re really looking for. Nelson doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would cut up two marshals and just leave them to die.”
There was a watery edge to Kiki’s laugh that made Liv think she was crying. “He won’t even let me kill spiders.”
A weight pressed Liv’s chest. She was sorry she couldn’t make a promise to this woman who wanted a better life, even if it was with the wrong man. But then, who was she to judge? She was clinging to Sebastian as much as Kiki was hanging her frayed hopes on Nelson. “I’ll do what I can.”
When she got off the phone, Liv sat still. “We got her.”
She handed Sebastian the phone and just sat on the edge of the bed, her empty hands dangling between her legs. The carpet’s light-blue fibers blended into a blur and the room seemed to rock gently like a mother cradling a child.
He called Kingsley and arranged for him to install the trace-and-trap in the morning, then sat next to her, his pose mirroring hers. “It’s a good thing.”
“I know. I just feel sorry for her. She didn’t do anything, and she’s going to lose no matter what.”
“Or maybe this’ll be the thing that gets her looking to take charge of her life.”
“Maybe.”
He kissed the nape of her neck, raining a shiver of pleasure down her spine. “You did good.”
She tilted her head back until his lips brushed her jaw, trailing a watercolor wash of warmth. Her whole body sang, and she craved the music. Had Sebastian always been able to play so well? When their lips met, the crescendo of yearning knocked them both off balance and tumbled them back onto the bed.
His kiss was soft and tender, but the backbeat of his need pulsed against her palms splayed over his chest, becoming hers.
When she was with him, the world seemed brighter, more colorful. She could see the end of darkness, believe that one day she could look back and find the trail of herself. All she had to do was take his hand and trust.
Doubts tripped over the melody, grinding out sour notes. Was he kissing Olivia? Was he remembering how love was between them? Did she remember how to love?
His touch raised a symphony of pleasure, mellowing the doubts.
He was a man, and she was a woman who was tired of watching her color fade to nothing. She’d had too much of darkness and death since the accident. On this cold night in February, she wanted warmth. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted him.
She would trust.
He had the power and passion of a hurricane, but he wasn’t going to meet a flimsy house that would fold under his force. She could sway and she could bend. She was not going to break.
He would have to trust, too.
She turned in his arms until they lay face to face. In the soft light, she was struck by the pieces of him—the breadth of his shoulders against the white of his shirt and the navy paisley of the comforter, the sharp attention of his dark eyes as he drank her in, the masculine chisel of his fingers as he reached toward her. When he touched her, she understood why Olivia had waited, why she’d fought her subtle battles to hold on to him. His hold was as gentle as sea foam, yet strong enough that she thought he could pull her out of any eddy.
His kiss coursed through her like the warmed brandy he’d offered her after dinner, twining shades of amber into a heat that was all-encompassing. Her heart jumped all out of rhythm. Her thoughts splashed with daubs of colors until they canceled each other out and all that was left was feeling. The dark taste of him. The spicy smell of him. The hard warmth of his body stretched out alongside hers.
Then she stumbled over the holes in her memory, and she couldn’t help wondering if her bone-deep attraction to the tall, dark and handsome stranger who was her husband was simply a need for a secure anchor in the darkness, or a true calling of her heart.
But when his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, she yielded to its request like paper to paint, opening to him, taking him in. And in the helpless surrender of his groan, she realized he was as lost as she was.
HE COULD FEEL EVERY INCH of the skin he occupied, from the tingle of his scalp to the curl of his toes. He could feel the rush of blood flowing through his veins, the drum of his heart, the pulse of his life force. And he felt strong. It was weeks since he’d been so in control of himself.
Here, in this bed, she was the woman he’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago, warm and familiar. The sweet scent of her that reminded him of flowers on slow summ
er breezes. The honeyed taste of her that would linger long after a kiss. The softness of her that tamed all his hard edges.
Until she straddled him. Then the heat in the blue of her eyes became that of the inside of a flame. It consumed him.
Who are you?
A month ago, he could have predicted every stroke of her hands, the texture of every kiss, the tides of her climax. Now he didn’t know exactly what to expect. The Olivia he remembered, the Olivia he married, would not have met him thrust for thrust. She would not have demanded her turn to torture him exquisitely with her tongue and her hands. She would not have challenged him to meet her soul to soul with eyes wide open.
Liv did.
And the skin-to-skin contact with this woman whose mind he couldn’t predict seemed to open lines of current that were too much to handle. He was crashing. Hard. And he didn’t care if there was a net waiting for him. He fit himself to her, around her, in her. The give of flesh cushioned him. Safe. He was safe. The soft sounds deep in her throat echoed his heartbeat. Her sigh became his next breath. Then madness bolted through him. He rode this edge of insanity until he felt her explode around him. The quake of her climax sent him tumbling again, stripping away the grip of his control, leaving him bared from the inside out. Empty, yet strangely full.
They held on to each other, two lost souls, as their breaths struggled to catch up to them.
He had wanted roots. Olivia had given them to him. But for all the roots he’d found with her in their home over the past ten years, part of him had lived in fear of what would happen if his obsessions collided.
Now they had.
He loved her more than he’d thought possible.
And someone still wanted to take her away from him.
If he wasn’t careful, this divided attention would knock him right off the tightrope he was walking, and he would lose everything.
As if sensing the treacherous course of his thoughts, she kissed him softly on the stubble of his jaw, then met his gaze, straight and direct. “I can’t give you what you want.”
“What’s that?”