by Angi Morgan
There was something about the way he took everything in stride. She’d seen the horror on his face at finding the dead woman. He couldn’t hide it as much as he tried. But he didn’t allow it to override his ability to think on his feet and come up with a safe place for them to go.
“A Marine and a SEAL. Sounds like the title of a book.”
Books!
Jeremy had been reading a book in Cozumel. She opened the link to his electronic library. There were lots of mysteries, thrillers and action books. Then she found the one that had stuck out—Texas Real Estate and Land Titles. Why would her cousin be reading this heavy material on vacation? It had to be connected.
But how? She reached for another sip of merlot and realized the glass was empty. She should get some water before she was seriously tipsy. The apartment spun as she stood to fill her glass. She barely made it back to the futon and definitely couldn’t do anything with the clean sheets. She’d laugh and giggle but was too busy yawning.
Laptop closed, sheets used as a pillow, she curled on the mattress with her back secure against the cushion. She drifted off thinking of how well Brian’s hands fit around her bottom.
If they’d only met before all this...
* * *
SOMEBODY HAD TIED one on before coming to the apartment to sleep. Brian banged on the wall between his bed and the front room. “Come on, guys. I’ll remember this the next time I come in and you’re getting some shut-eye.”
A few seconds was all it took to remember he was here only with Lindsey. The thrashing continued. SIG palmed, he was barefoot and shirtless at the door to the other room. He stuck his head around the frame, staying low like his brother had reminded him.
A nightmare. Lindsey was alone and fighting only someone in her dream. The loose sheets were in knots at her feet. Her red silk shirt was tangled high under her breasts, showing him a flat, tanned stomach. He returned his weapon under his mattress and noted that he’d been asleep a couple of hours.
Lifting his blue-eyed dream into his arms, he cradled her, shushing her nightmare like he would have Lauren. He placed her in his bed, then gathered her stuff, bringing it all to his room and locking the door. If any of his roommates did venture past Mac in the hallway, they wouldn’t barge into his room.
The vent blew right on his bed. That was the way he liked it. But Lindsey was already shivering. He pulled the covers around her and had every intention of being a gentleman. He’d stay on his side of the bed, not touching or exploring or...anything.
He did manage to lie on his back and not move. Completely prepared to hit the hay again. Yep, that was his intention. He could do it.
Right until Lindsey curled tighter, sidling up to him. He lifted his arm and she molded herself to his chest. Shifting to his side was more comfortable, then they were spooning. He couldn’t very well keep his arm above his head and get any sleep. Was it his fault if it wrapped around her middle?
Sleeping—really sleeping—with a woman wasn’t something he was used to, because he never did it. There was no reason to. He didn’t bring women here and certainly didn’t bring them home to the room next to his father’s.
Sleeping at the moment wasn’t happening either. He was too aware of the soft breasts pressing on his arm. Enjoying the rise and fall of her chest, the silkiness of her hair against his chest. Everything about her made him want her and yet made him want to wait until the time was perfect.
Finding a murder victim in your house—not to mention in your bed—was repulsive enough. Running from the murderer probably didn’t make you very amorous either.
Yet, he was wide-awake and only thinking of making love to the woman in his arms. He should be thinking about a plan. Since he wasn’t sleeping, he should go down and talk with his brother.
That was the last thing he wanted to do, but he eased away. By the time he sat on the second bed to pull on his boots, Lindsey was tossing as though she was in another bad dream.
Making sure Lindsey got some rest was as important as figuring out a plan of action. He didn’t want her to fall apart or have more panic attacks. His boots were soundless falling back onto the carpet. He slipped in beside Lindsey before he could change his mind.
Resting on his elbow, he traced her troubled brows, smoothing them like his mother had after his nightmares. A rhythmic motion that he’d always thought hypnotic. Her jerking slowed, then stopped, and she relaxed into his side.
John had already outlined a plan and could tell him details later. Differences aside, he’d be the good, inexperienced brother and salute when told what to do in order to save Lindsey and his family.
It would be the only time John would get that level of cooperation from him. To keep the woman in his arms sleeping soundly, he slipped an arm under her head and the other around her tiny waist. Even with his eyes closed, he could see her sky-blue eyes sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight.
Diamonds in the sunlight? What the heck? He wasn’t a poet and had never thought like this about any woman. Hell, he’d never thought like that before, period.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m in blessed shape and health for a man of my age. I will, however, admit that fighting a younger paramedic proved tiring.”
The wall panel hiding his souvenirs and recording equipment slid open. He placed the bag with the clothes he’d worn during the fight with Brian Sloane along with the rest. All neatly labeled and vacuum sealed to preserve the DNA.
“I should remind curious minds that I have no desire to be blamed for crimes I did not commit, nor will I be denied the accomplishment of one either. It will be hard for authorities to believe my flawless record. I have kept the necessary proof of each and it is properly organized.” He pushed the button, closing the panel behind his wall safe, then shut the doors to the actual safe and replaced the heavy books on the shelf, hiding the catch.
“What an exhilarating day. The police believe Lindsey has been killed, and now Sloane is wanted for her murder. Yes, quite an accomplishment. I will have to work late into the night making up for what landed on my desk today, but it is well worth the time I spent.”
Time for his vodka. Then the work that paid his bills.
“Sloane acted exactly as predicted. Until the time that the police place him in jail, it will give me the necessary interval to plan the next stage of my Cook finale. I daresay I hate to postpone the preparations for the hunt.” He toasted himself, letting the vodka heat his throat. “And the kill.”
Chapter Fourteen
“She doesn’t deserve nightmares.” Brian had tried to explain to his brother several times about his fascination with Lindsey. He barely understood it himself, so the words he’d stubbornly uttered over the past month sounded like a lovesick cow speaking a foreign language. Today was no different.
“I’m sure there are other people who can handle that problem.” John pushed a piece of notebook paper across the card table. “My plan is the only way to be safe. I’ve written everything down for you. I’d like your word that you’ll follow my instructions.”
John, the man with all the answers, casually tipped his chair back against the wall and linked his fingers behind his head, waiting. Brian knew that look. He’d had one himself years ago when he was confident and certain his way was the only way. Before life got complicated with possibilities.
Walking away from the ranch or from years of paramedic training. Losing his heritage or starting a new life. His dad and John thought they knew his answer. Hell, he didn’t even know his answer, so how could they? He reread the list.
Number one in big red caps: Brian surrenders to police. Two: Lindsey secretly travels to a friend’s house—alone. He glanced through the ways to avoid getting noticed. And the last thing on his brother’s instructions: let the police find the murderer.
“You want me to si
t around and do nothing? Did that work for you?” With a flip of his wrist, Brian sent the list back across the table. “I’ve already given my word and I won’t go back on it. You might as well understand that I’m not going to salute you like one of your soldiers. You can’t order me to retreat into a jail cell and wait for this all to blow over.”
The Naval Lieutenant inside his brother didn’t get it. Brian wasn’t leaving Lindsey’s side. Not voluntarily. Not until she was safe and had choices for her safety.
John ignored the paper as it floated to the floor. “You can’t be serious.”
“As serious as you when you were wanted for murder a couple of months ago and kidnapped Lauren to keep her safe.”
“That was different, Brian. You don’t know the first thing about this woman.”
“You didn’t know Alicia after being gone for twelve years, yet you jumped in when she was in trouble.” He scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to think, and ended up irritating the sutures on his forehead. His brother’s look hadn’t changed. If anything, he was more irritated with the mention of his wife. “Come on, John. I need you to back me up here.”
“I’ve trained for rescue missions. We had a plan and were lucky it worked.”
“You know your instructions are a death sentence for Lindsey. We have to find this guy. If we run now, he’ll disappear again and kill her later.”
“There’s no choice here, bro. We can’t do anything with your name and our mug shot on every television screen in the state.”
“That didn’t stop you from helping Alicia.”
John stood, knocking his folding chair to the floor. “Damn it, why won’t you listen to me? Every cop in Dallas–Fort Worth is out for your blood. The P.D.’s catching all sorts of flak for not taking her reported threat seriously.”
“Good.”
“Not good. They don’t want explanations, they want your head on a media-frenzied platter. And she’s not even dead.”
Brian tapped the table, trying to think. He wanted to understand and accept his brother’s advice. But shouldn’t his brother understand why he wanted to help Lindsey? John hadn’t ever been supportive of him finding the truth behind Mrs. Cook’s death. Saying things like “what good would come of it” and that “they all knew the truth so why did finding whoever was responsible matter?”
Well, it mattered to Brian. He was the one who had been blamed for her death. Not John. Not his father. And not the murderer.
“Even if I did follow your suggestion, Lindsey won’t leave town. Not without me.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t asked her.” John stood at parade rest.
The way he thought he knew everything they should do now, and how they should act, ticked Brian off. It was his breaking point. He slapped the table, prepared to brawl to win this argument. “This dictator role you’ve taken on needs to stop. Just accept the fact that we’re not running. It’s done. Now, explain what you would be looking for on the laptop and we’ll do it. Lindsey used to run a website company. I bet she could—”
“Finding hidden files has nothing to do with design. You’re over your head trying to rescue your new girlfriend and can’t see that you’re both drowning.” John kicked at the cheap chair. “I told Alicia you’d be an idiot about this.”
He put a lid on the feeling of self-pity and screwed the lid on tight. He was the one who chose to take the blame for the accidental fire. Not John. Not anybody. If he’d trusted his brother back then, twelve silent years could have been avoided. He wasn’t going to cause a rift between them again.
“Hey, stop shouting. I hear fine and Lindsey’s still in there sleeping. I know we’ll need to find a safe place to lay low until the police eliminate me as a suspect. What I don’t know is why you’re so reluctant to help.”
“The news is reporting her murder and you’re the primary suspect. Unless the police talk to her, know that she’s alive, how are they going to eliminate you other than with a bullet between your eyes? They will find you, Brian. Then what?” John asked. Genuine concern or authority oozed out his military straightness. He hadn’t answered Brian’s question of what was holding him back.
“It’ll be okay. I have a solid alibi.”
“That’s right, he does,” Lindsey said from the bedroom door behind him. “Don’t you need to be at home talking with the cops, John? I mean, you’re part of his alibi, too. Can’t you tell them that poor woman isn’t me?”
“Right. Like they’ll believe me.”
“You doing okay, Lindsey?” Brian watched his brother’s spine straighten even more with Lindsey’s presence. She looked as if she’d been dragged through the wringer. Her hair was prettily tangled from the tossing and turning she’d done even while she’d been safe in his arms. Her eyes were slightly puffy with smudges of mascara. He wondered if she’d taken a look in the mirror or avoided it, afraid of what she’d see.
“Just peachy.” She grimaced as she folded her arms across her chest. “I found a memory stick last night. It might mean something.”
Brian remained at the table, willing his brother to leave. He didn’t want to argue any longer, just wrap his arms around Lindsey and maybe take off to hide in the mountains.
“What happened to your arm?” John asked. His brother was calm enough on the surface, but Brian could see his tolerance chipping away.
Right then, he didn’t feel like the older, responsible twin at all. He tried to catch Lindsey’s eye before she filled John in on the details he’d left out about their encounter with the murderer. Luck wasn’t on his side.
“A maniac sliced it with a knife after he murdered an innocent woman in Jeremy’s house. A woman who looked just like me, apparently.”
Apparently she didn’t like him holding back information either. It was Brian’s turn to stand suddenly and let his chair collapse with a clang to the floor. The noise didn’t slow John or Lindsey’s discussion.
“You heard the authorities think you’re dead?” She nodded and John’s eyes narrowed. “My brother neglected to mention you’d been wounded. Did you see a doctor?”
“It was a minor altercation.” Brian tried to play it down. An identical set of jaws clenched, and fingers formed fists. Maybe they’d get that brawl in after all.
“Brian stitched it up last night.” Lindsey lightly stroked the overkill bandage he’d wrapped over the sutures. “I will never doubt the power of a deadener again.”
“Are you nuts, man? She needs a real doctor, a hospital, antibiotics.”
Lindsey shook her head and compressed her gorgeous lips into a straight line. “Let’s get past this, John. You’ve argued too long and need to admit that you’ve lost this battle. I’m following Brian’s lead regarding this matter. If you can’t help, then you should go.”
As tall as his blonde beauty was, she still had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. But there was nothing weak or confused about her glare at his brother. She wasn’t bluffing. She’d made a decision and that was the end of the discussion.
John placed his chair back at the table and mumbled about stubborn women and idiot brothers as he sat. There was a new energy and assuredness to Lindsey’s step as she crossed the room, scooped up John’s list and opened her cousin’s laptop. Brian watched, leaning on the kitchen wall, completely confused as to why he suddenly felt proud.
“How long before we need to leave?” Lindsey’s nails gently clicked keys while she raised one blond brow in question.
“Soon,” he said, along with his brother.
“Did either of you hear me when I said there was a memory stick with Jeremy’s laptop? I should show you what I found last night before Brian got me drunk.”
“Drunk?”
Brian pointed to his upper arm and mouthed stitches to his brother.
“I remembered something strange
from my last trip with Jeremy.” Lindsey ignored his brother. “I teased him because he was reading a Texas real estate manual, even highlighting passages. Who reads that sort of book after you buy a house? Anyway, it’s still on here.”
“It’s a start. Is there any other file that might be unusual?” he asked, not needing his twin’s challenging glare. He knew nothing about computers. He rode horses or in an ambulance. Neither allowed a lot of time for gaining computer skills.
“I’m not sure, but the drive indicates there’s a lot of data there. I can’t find a file list. It looks as though Jeremy just used a hidden file program. You can get them off the internet. The trick will be thinking of his password.”
“I have friends who can take care of that.” John had a shoulder against the wall, listening, a hand rubbing the stubble on his chin.
“I can figure it out. Jeremy was like my brother. I knew him pretty well.”
Brian looked up to see the same “yeah, right” look on his brother’s face. Lindsey harrumphed.
“The concept might be foreign to the two of you, but I did know Jeremy. Thanks for the offer, but these are my files now and I’m keeping them.” She shook her head looking back at her keyboard. “The protection program he used was just a GUI.”
“Did you say gooey?” John asked.
“Yes, a Graphical User Interface that’s easy to install and use.”
“I think Lindsey speaks your lingo, bro.” Brian crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, striking the same pose his brother had earlier.
“Can I see you for a moment?” John asked.
He stood, and the first thought that raced through his head was what would break when they came to blows in the bedroom. Nothing important or nothing at all. He’d successfully controlled his temper for twelve years. He even avoided the teens around Aubrey who didn’t know why their parents were angry at him. They just liked to pit their fighting ability against the town’s bad boy. John was the only person who got under his skin far enough to get a rise.