by Debra Webb
He dropped his hands. Took a step back. “I’m…” Damn, how did he excuse such behavior? “I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away and lost my head.”
Damned straight he’d lost his head.
He’d gone way too far.
Bree trembled. He cursed himself.
“Just go, Patrick.” She sucked in a ragged breath. She squared her shoulders in an attempt to compose herself. “I’ll see you at Nora’s for lunch tomorrow. We’ll…” She shrugged, still visibly struggling to maintain her bearing. He’d shaken her. “We’ll review what we have on the case and…”
“Fine.” If she let him off the hook this easily he was damned lucky.
He’d definitely crossed the line.
“Well.” She backed up another step. “Good night then.”
He turned around, read those words scrawled across her vehicle once more and changed his mind.
Patrick faced her once more, met her expectant gaze. “You won’t mind if I follow you home? Just to be safe.”
He’d kissed her. As crazy as it sounded, he’d put himself at risk for legal action. Had acted like an idiot, basically. Whether it was the kiss or his over-bearing tactics, whatever the reason Bree just stood there staring at him.
“Look.” He turned his palms up, tried his best to sound humble. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, that was way out of line. It won’t happen again. But you’ve got a serious situation here.” He gestured to her vandalized vehicle. “It’s not like I’m asking you to invite me into your home.”
Still she said nothing, just stared at him.
Well, hell.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He started toward his SUV but called over his shoulder. “I’ll be standing by. Whenever you’re ready to go, I’ll be right behind you.”
Chapter Five
Bree peered at her reflection in the mirror.
What was she doing?
She’d gotten up this morning, taken her son to school and come to work as if nothing had changed.
From eight-thirty until noon she had worked diligently. She’d touched base with half a dozen reliable informants, called every name on Rudy’s list and come up empty-handed. If anyone knew anything, they were too afraid to talk.
Not unusual. Just frustrating.
Now, at half past twelve, she stood in the ladies’ room contemplating how she looked.
“This is bad.”
One day had changed everything. Put her entire existence into a tailspin. Last night had been the no-turning-back point.
No matter how she lied to herself. No matter how she lied to her sister. Bree understood with complete certainty that she could no longer deny the facts.
She still had feelings for Patrick.
She had made a grievous error keeping his son from him. Though their relationship hadn’t worked out, he would have been a good father.
The problem had been, still was, that he wanted to run everything. There was no compromise. He took his lawman tactics home. She hadn’t been able to deal with that. Mutual respect was too important to her.
That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that he hadn’t respected her. He just hadn’t wanted her doing anything he considered too dangerous for a woman…for his woman.
But none of that meant he wouldn’t be a stellar father.
She had no idea what she was going to do.
Bree had spent nine years in law enforcement. She had solved the most puzzling cases, had apprehended her share of bad guys, including the worst of the worst—rapist and killers. And she had no idea how she was going to fix this.
Her life.
Her son’s life.
How could she have ever hoped to keep Peter from knowing his father when they lived in the same county? Once Patrick moved from Monticello, Utah, to Kenner County she should have realized her mistake and corrected it then…before it went this far. She’d assumed at the time that if Patrick heard she’d had a child that he would probably believe Jack was the father.
“Truly dumb.”
Bree should have anticipated the reality that babies grow up to be little boys and girls who ask questions. They then become teenagers who rebel against every perceived offense, real or imagined.
God, she was in trouble.
She took a breath, checked the time on her cell phone. She was also late.
Bree took a breath and walked out the door. If she stalled any longer she would be noticeably late. Nora would notice. Bree didn’t want to offend Nora.
Dropping by her desk, she checked her messages before heading for lunch. She had no more excuses.
Making her way through Towaoc’s one-level police station, a part of her kept hoping that the chief or one of her colleagues would call her name. If work got in the way, lunch would have to wait. Patrick could brief her by phone. She was fairly certain nothing new had come up on the Grainger case from his end any more than it had hers. Protocol dictated that all involved in the case get notification.
Before climbing into her borrowed SUV, she checked her cell phone once more.
She wasn’t going to get a lucky break today.
En route to the Morning Ray Café, Bree replayed last night’s close call. Patrick had shown up at her sister’s demanding to know what was going on. Bree’d had to covertly call her sister and let her know to keep Peter inside. Not that she would have allowed him outside with what was going on. But Bree hadn’t wanted to take any chances. Then Patrick had insisted on following her home, requiring Bree to ask her sister to drive Peter home as soon as Patrick was gone.
She owed her sister big-time.
The drive to Kenner City was spent worrying about facing Patrick after that kiss. Was it possible her sister had been right all along?
That kiss had certainly been…something. She’d melted like a bar of chocolate beneath the scorching desert sun. She shivered even now as she recalled the way his lips had felt pressed against hers. His big, strong hands cradling her face.
Bree had no idea Patrick had never married. That seemed impossible. A man who looked like him. A good, hard-working man.
With whom she’d argued vehemently about her career. She’d been a green recruit assigned to the Ute Reservation when they’d first met. Patrick had been assigned to a special task force in Monticello. They’d worked a nasty hate-crime investigation in Utah territory together. Ended up head over heels in love and sharing an apartment for six months. But Patrick had rigid views on the differences between males and females in law enforcement, particularly the woman he loved. He didn’t want her doing the dangerous details. The more intense the relationship had gotten the more protective he’d become.
Bree had felt smothered. She’d needed to be able to pursue her career as far as her abilities would take her. She’d wanted the tough cases, the danger. She hadn’t wanted any more of Patrick’s grief. So she’d walked. Two months later she’d discovered she was pregnant. Her cycles had never been regular. Missing one hadn’t set off any alarms. But the second missed period had gotten her attention. No matter that they’d always practiced safe sex—she was pregnant. And Patrick hadn’t come after her or even called in more than a month. Pride and vulnerability, along with her father’s urging, had helped make her decision. Move on.
She’d been young and full of ambition. After Peter’s birth and a hard-learned lesson in bad choices in husbands, she’d realized that risking her life was also risking her son’s future. So she’d gone after the rank of detective. Even working homicide was a lot safer than pounding the pavement and cruising the alleyways and streets working in prevention mode.
Then, six years ago Patrick had come back home to Colorado to be sheriff of Kenner County and she’d sweated every single day of every damned year that he would somehow find out about her secret.
He’d called this morning to ensure she was okay, then insisted they needed to talk. Over lunch. God, how would she ever resolve this mess?
The drive down Main Street momentarily tugged Bree from her troubling thoughts.
She loved this street. Kenner City was a grand old Western town without the overwhelming crowds of Park City. The refurbished storefronts made her think of the old Western movies she watched as a kid. From the well-maintained sidewalks to the majestic mountains in the distance, there was no place on the planet she’d rather be than here.
The Morning Ray Café sat on the corner of Main and Bridge Street. The perfect location for attracting tourists. But the locals were the mainstay of Nora’s customers. Her decadent desserts and wide variety of home-cooked cuisine was known far and wide in these parts. Not to mention her vivacious personality. Everybody loved Nora.
The atmosphere was homey and warm and the diner was filled to capacity as always. From the working cowboys to the polished businessmen of the city’s financial district, Nora got them all. The hum of conversation was underscored by the clink of silver and stoneware.
But it was the smell that had Bree’s tummy rumbling. She had seriously missed this place. Savoring the delicious smells, she scanned the tables. Patrick sat in one of the only two booths in the diner. This one was near the back. The closest to the kitchen. Most patrons would avoid that booth, but not Patrick. Being close to the kitchen ensured his mother was able to visit with him even during a crowded lunch run like this one.
Patrick waved.
Bree’s heart did one of those traitorous flip-flops. Dammit. She headed that way, weaving through the crowded tables.
He stood. Always the gentleman. His ever-present cowboy hat sat on the bench seat.
She’d missed that, too. There was a time when she’d loved to pull that hat off and run her fingers through his thick, dark hair.
Focus, Bree. Don’t go there.
“Hey.” It was the first word that popped into Bree’s sluggish brain. Work. This was about work…not about the pale blue cotton shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders or the softly worn jeans that hugged his lean hips and long legs.
“Hey, yourself.” He gestured to the booth. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”
Bree settled into her side of the booth working extra hard at not showing her surprise at the move. He used to do that all the time. It felt…too fast. Too much like old times.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
“Mom’s meat loaf.” Patrick flashed her one of those lopsided grins that sent her heart bumping erratically. Peter smiled exactly like that.
He knew Nora’s meatloaf was Bree’s favorite.
Even she had to smile. “I do love Nora’s meatloaf.” She’d missed Nora and her amazing cooking. But coming here had been too risky…too painful.
Patrick slid into the booth and got down to business. “I hope you had better luck running down leads than I did this morning.”
Nora’s bubbly voice preceded her as she burst through the double doors leading from the kitchen. She settled two glasses of water on the table.
“Bree, sugar, you are truly a sight for sore eyes.”
Bree slid from the booth and accepted the hug Nora Martinez was all set to give. The buxom lady was barely five-four, but she made up for her height in personality and voice.
When Bree had settled back into her seat, Nora leaned down and kissed her son’s head. “They never get too old or too big for that.” She winked at Bree. “You’ll find out one of these days.”
Bree tensed.
“So, how have you been, sugar?” Nora braced a hip against the side of the booth.
“Good.” That was true. “I made detective and I love my job.” She thought of the homicide case she was working right now. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“Well.” Nora pushed away from the booth. “I’d better get hopping. You two enjoy.”
Bree didn’t realize how much she’d missed Nora until that moment. She had a way of making everything feel all right. She was definitely one of a kind.
Another reality hit Bree then. She had deprived Peter of knowing and loving his grandmother. A woman who would spoil her one and only grandchild to no end. Nora Martinez would be immensely disappointed in Bree for keeping Peter from her.
Bree’s heart sank into her belly.
She had made a terrible mistake.
Stop. She had to stop obsessing about this. Whatever was going to happen would happen. She’d deal with the repercussions when it did.
Right now she had to focus.
“No luck with your contacts either?” she asked in answer to his question, steering the conversation to the reason they were here.
Patrick moved his head from side to side, his face grim. “I checked in with Ortiz a couple of hours ago. There’s nothing new. They hope to have a preliminary autopsy report by tomorrow’s briefing.”
“Hopefully we’ll learn something from the autopsy.” Bree kept thinking about the ligature pattern on the victim’s throat. Unusual but somehow familiar. She’d seen it somewhere.
“So,” Patrick said, drawing her attention back to him, “how’s married life?”
Surprise flared in her chest. Tension followed. Is that what he’d called her here to talk about? “I…I wouldn’t know. I’m single.”
His brow furrowed in that way that made Bree’s heart skip a beat each time she saw Peter do the same thing. He’d never even met his father and yet he was so very much like him.
“I heard you’d gotten married,” Patrick countered, not about to let it go.
“I did.” She chose her words carefully. “Didn’t work out so we divorced.”
“When did that happen?”
“About a year ago.” They’d been separated for six months before that but she wasn’t going into the dirty details.
More of that surprise at just how wrong he’d been flared in his eyes. He shrugged. “I guess I’m way behind on news.”
Farther than you know.
“Any hits on the prints from your SUV?”
Something else she’d worked hard at keeping off her mind. “Not unless you count mine and my sister’s and my…” She’d almost said her son. “My niece’s.” Too close.
“You wanna tell me about your anonymous fan?”
If she didn’t he would just keep nagging at her. She’d kept the situation to herself until last night. Being a woman in the still predominantly man’s world of law enforcement, any sign of weakness was looked upon in a different light. Since she hadn’t had any real evidence someone was watching her, she’d let it go. But there was no letting it go now. This was real. She had a stalker. Filing an official report had been necessary.
She toyed with her water glass, mainly to avoid eye contact. “About two weeks ago I started to get this feeling that someone was watching me.” She shrugged. “I’d get a glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eye. Notice the same vehicle mirroring my turns. You know. Stuff like that.”
Nothing she could put her finger on, more gut instinct than anything.
“What about the phone calls?” Patrick asked.
Oh, yeah. She’d told him about that. “Several hang ups. Always from a public phone. No pattern as far as the time, but a definite pattern in the locations the calls were made from. Kenner City.”
Patrick mulled over what she’d told him. “Have you made a list of anyone who might be holding a grudge? Someone you’ve ticked off in the line of duty or otherwise?”
Actually, her first instinct was to suspect Jack. But he’d left her alone for the past five or six months. She couldn’t see any reason he would suddenly start trouble again now. They were beyond over. She’d seen him around with other women. Clearly he’d moved on.
“What about your ex?” Patrick asked, as if she’d spoken her thoughts.
Bree shook her head. “He’s completely out of the picture.” In fact, he’d actually been out of the picture all along. She just hadn’t realized how much so.
Nora breezed through the kitchen doors. “Here we go, sweet things,” she said happily. Her rosy cheeks, vivacious personality and bottled blond hair made her seem far younger than her ne
arly sixty years. She sat a steaming plate in front of Bree, then Patrick.
The presentation of the food was spectacular. Who knew that there could be such design significance in the way a plate of meat and two vegetables were laid out. Bree never ceased to be amazed at the way the lady could take something as simple as meatloaf and make it look beautiful. That it tasted magnificent as well didn’t hurt. The smell was awesome.
Bree picked at her meatloaf. Time to turn the tables. To say at this point that she wasn’t curious would be a vast understatement. A flat-out lie. “What about you? Is there a woman waiting at home?” She placed a piece of succulent meatloaf on her tongue. She had to fight the urge to moan.
Patrick picked up his fork and piddled with his food. “Not yet.”
Aha. Not yet. Did that mean there was someone?
“I suppose you’re like me,” she suggested, deciding this was the best way out of this subject. She looked directly at him then. Ignored the ping of desire that hit deep beneath her belly button as those vivid blue eyes meshed with hers. “A little too busy for a decent social life?”
“Always.” He poked a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
She shouldn’t have watched. He chewed, swallowed, then licked his lips. Her breath hitched.
Careful, Bree. This is dangerous territory. She was allowing herself to play with fire. Her sister should never have shown her that scrapbook. She hadn’t been able to think about anything but what-if since.
She had to remember that any misstep she made now would impact her son.
Patrick had to remember that things hadn’t worked out with Bree eight years ago. He could already see that their differences were still the same ones. She liked diving headfirst into intense investigations. Like murder. If he allowed himself to get involved with her again, his protective instincts would make them both miserable. He would only be unhappy.
That was no way to live.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, save for the occasional appearance of his mother. Nora had loved Bree. She’d wanted Patrick to settle down and make grandbabies for her.
Seeing them together now would only give her false hope. Patrick had chosen the diner because it represented a safe zone. But maybe he’d been wrong. The environment sure as hell hadn’t done anything to slow his need to reach out and touch Bree. Or his burning desire to kiss her again.