by C. J. Miller
She wore only a blue nightshirt, her legs bare. She needed clothes. Brady didn’t give her time to think or react. He dragged her to the ground, and the floor was hot under her hands and knees. She followed him at a crawl out of her room and into the hallway.
The front door at the bottom of the stairs was open. They crouched low as they thundered down the stairs. Brady stayed next to her, keeping one guiding hand on her back. Smoke warred with the oxygen in the air. Susan coughed, cupping her sleeve over her mouth, trying to draw fresh air. None existed. Brady’s gaze met hers, and alarm flickered in his eyes while the flames crackled and hissed around them.
“Keep going,” Brady shouted over the roar of the fire.
The heat from the fire was unbearable and her lungs heaved. Fresh air. They had to get outside. The house groaned and screeched under the assault from the fire. Dizziness assailed her and she grabbed at Brady to steady herself. He slid his hands around her and under her knees and carried her from the house.
The cold night air refreshed her, a dramatic change from the heat inside. Brady set her on the ground.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Susan stared at her home, now consumed in flames. Was she okay? No. She wasn’t. This incident alone was bad. On top of everything else, it was cataclysmic.
Confusion and sadness weighed heavy on her heart. How had this happened? She hadn’t lit a fire in the hearth that night. Hadn’t cooked dinner after work. Didn’t fix herself a cup of tea to relax. How had this fire, which was now consuming her home, her artwork and her possessions, started?
Questions flashed in rapid succession and she spoke the two that repeated most often. “What happened? Why are you here?” She’d made it clear outside the gallery she wouldn’t—couldn’t—see him. It hurt too much.
Then again, him saving her life put a fresh, bewildering twist on her feelings. Gratitude, desire and security mixed with guilt in a heady cocktail, jumbling her emotions.
Brady rubbed at his knee, pain written on his face. His injury! She’d been worried about herself and her house. What about Brady? He’d risked his life for her.
“Are you hurt? Is your knee okay?” she asked before he could answer her first questions.
He looked at her unblinking, emotionless. “I don’t know what happened. I saw the flames, called 911 and rushed inside. I didn’t hear your smoke detectors going off.”
Had they malfunctioned? Or was something more sinister afoot? Susan had never been the paranoid type, but events over the past week had put her on high alert. “Why are you here?” she asked again.
Brady shifted on his legs and stood, shaking out his right leg. “I explained the other day why I’ve been hanging around. Reilly’s gotten caught up in this and I need the truth. He’s worried about you, and given the current state of his career, he can’t look out for you. He wants me to.”
Susan’s jaw slackened. Her friendship with Reilly didn’t include talking about Brady often. He was a subject they both avoided. Reilly knew she wouldn’t be comfortable with Brady involved in her life. “I asked you to leave me alone and you were spying on me?”
He blew out his breath. “No, Susan, come on. I was making sure you were safe.”
Had he been the person she’d sensed watching her? She shivered, feeling a combination of cold and uneasy. “Did you look in my windows?”
Brady’s eyes narrowed in indignation. “No, dang, Susan, I’m not a creepy pervert. I was making sure you got home from work safely and no one was harassing you.”
“I’m trying to handle things.” She shivered again and rubbed her arms. Brady removed his jacket and slipped it over her body. It smelled like a combination of smoke and Brady. The scent of him was both comforting and arousing.
Brady glanced at her burning house. “I’m seeing a number of threats coming in your direction and while I know you’re independent and can handle yourself, I don’t know if you realize who you’re up against.”
Brady wanted to help her. Protect her. Had Brady figured out something she hadn’t? Susan had tried to sort out how her life had spun out of control. She had tried to remember what had happened the night Justin had died. She had come up empty on answers in both cases.
Every time Justin’s name came to mind, which was at least a hundred times a day, guilt and hurt slammed her in the gut. That she wasn’t emotionally shattered by his death only compounded the guilt. She missed him and she was sorry for his family and what they were going through, but she wasn’t experiencing the gut-twisting, heart-wrenching heartbreak of lost love. She had been on his boat before he’d died and she couldn’t recall anything to help the police. Had she been involved? She wasn’t a temperamental woman, but the circumstances made her question everything.
Justin had been a good man. He’d deserved better than a violent death. “I don’t know who I’m up against because I don’t know anyone who would do this to me.”
“Justin’s murderer.”
Susan tried to wrap her mind around Brady’s words. “If the person who killed Justin wanted me dead, they could have killed me that night, too.”
Brady’s face took on a serious expression. “My theory is that you were a good scapegoat for his murder and now that enough time has passed to leave the investigative trail cold, you’re a loose end that needs to be tied off.”
Chapter 2
Brady’s words slammed into her like a hammer. Someone wanted her dead? “Who would kill Justin and try to hurt me?” Susan asked.
“That’s the big question,” Brady said.
Susan rubbed at her temples where a headache of massive proportions was brewing. “This doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have enemies.”
Brady inclined his head. “You don’t exactly have any friends in your corner right now either. Well, except my brothers and me.”
If she allowed Brady in her life, would he explain why he had walked out of it to begin with and give her closure?
No, that wasn’t like Brady. Discussing emotions wasn’t on the agenda. As much as she had wanted to be part of his world, as intimate as her relationship had been with Brady, she had never reached the status of being family to him. She remained outside his inner circle, an inner circle he didn’t allow anyone inside except his parents and his brothers. Bitterness oozed from her chest and she worked to hide it. She had tried. She’d put her best into her relationship with Brady, and despite their chemistry and the effort she’d made, it had still failed.
If nothing else, his reappearance in her life had given her something to think about aside from the fire and Justin’s death. Though she hated to admit it, she felt safer with Brady around. He had a way of taking control of a situation and putting her at ease.
But how much could she rely on him? Was he sticking around this time, or would he bail if it got too complicated? History could repeat itself.
The cold had begun to cut through his jacket and her nightshirt. She shivered and rubbed her legs. Approaching sirens sounded in the distance.
“Come with me,” Brady said. “I have a blanket in my truck.”
He helped her to her feet and limped to his truck, one arm supporting her. Brady hadn’t answered her question about his injury. He was in pain, but he hid it well. Brady dug a blanket from the back of his truck, wrapped it around her legs and told her to wait in the cab. The truck sheltered her from the wind and biting cold, but not from the view of her home.
Her house was still in flames, her possessions destroyed. All she had left were the pajamas she was wearing and the necklace she’d gotten from Haley, one of the few people who’d stood beside her since Justin’s death. Susan watched helplessly as the fire trucks arrived and firefighters hooked up their hoses, pouring water onto the farmhouse. Despite their efforts, it was too late to do any good. The farmhouse was old, the wiring outdated, and the fire had been
merciless.
No one had been hurt, and she was glad of that, but everything that mattered to her had been taken in an instant.
The ambulance arrived and the paramedic assessed them both, first treating Brady, who had an injury on his arm. An EMT procured a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt and a pair of shoes from a neighbor for Susan to wear over her nightshirt.
Hadn’t she suffered her share of heartbreak in the past week? What did she have left? Her eyes drifted to Brady. Once the most important man in her life, she couldn’t trust him. He’d hurt her once. He’d do it again.
Two police officers walked toward her and dread coiled in Susan’s stomach. She had no reason to fear these officers and yet, her experiences with the police in the last week had been less than stellar. Borderline catastrophic.
When they approached, Brady broke away from the paramedic and came closer, positioning himself at her side. “Thank you for the speedy response time,” Brady said to the officers.
Susan glanced at him. Nothing on his face gave away sarcasm. Why was he playing nice? Reilly was a detective, one of the best. Did Brady know these officers through his brother?
“We need some information from you,” one of the officers said, directing the statement at Susan.
When she’d been brought in for questioning after Justin’s murder, she’d known to ask for a lawyer. Did she need one now? “Do I need an attorney?” Asking the question made her feel guilty though she’d done nothing wrong.
The two officers exchanged looks.
“We’re not holding you under suspicion of starting the fire. If our investigation leads in that direction, we will need you available for questions,” the other officer said.
“If you’re uncomfortable saying anything now, we can go to the station later with your lawyer,” Brady said.
Brady was behaving as if they were friends. They weren’t friends. They were barely civil to each other, tonight being the exception. “I can talk now,” she said.
Susan was relieved that the officers needed only her basic information and promised to call when the fire investigator had finished examining the scene.
When the officers walked away, Brady knelt in front of her and looked her dead in the eyes. “What were you doing right before the fire?”
Did he think she had something to do with the fire? The idea infuriated her. “I was sleeping. And before that, I was watching TV.”
Behind Brady, a movement in the trees bordering her property caught her attention. She paused, squinted, trying to see who—or what—was there. Was it another nosy neighbor, her imagination on overdrive or someone with malicious intentions? She hadn’t called the police to report her unease and sense of being watched. They wouldn’t have believed her and she didn’t want to add fuel to their case against her by appearing insane. As far as the authorities were concerned, she was a criminal and every moment she had outside jail was a gift.
Another movement in the trees. “Brady.” His name left her mouth in a whisper.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, leaning close.
Their gazes locked and for a moment, Susan lost herself in his dark eyes. Brady had the same dark eyes as his brother Reilly, but at close range, she could see flecks of light brown the color of wheat in them. She let him draw her close, even when every other thought screamed warnings to stay away.
Though she felt silly for speaking the words, it felt important to tell someone. “I thought I saw someone in the trees.”
Brady didn’t question her. He didn’t tell her she was seeing things because she was tired. “I’ll look. Stay here.” He stalked in that direction to check it out, his limp drawing her attention. He disappeared into the dark and worry fogged her brain. If Brady was still recovering from his injury, could he protect himself? She had never before questioned his abilities. Before he’d been wounded, Brady had been a force to be reckoned with. She believed him strong and capable. If nothing else, sheer will drove him.
She waited for Brady to return. When he reappeared, his limp was less noticeable. Was it an injury that came and went? Was that a good sign for his recovery?
“Did you see anyone?” she asked. Please let Brady have seen something that would help.
He stilled. “No. I didn’t.” He spoke the words quietly.
She took a deep breath against the battering disappointment. If anyone had been there, Brady would have found him or her. Had she imagined the shadow? Lately, she’d felt on display every time she left the house. Neighbors and friends had turned on her, blaming her for Justin’s death, whispering behind her back. Those who knew her mother and her father whispered about history repeating itself. Their stares had made her paranoid. “I thought someone was there. I swear someone was watching me.”
“Maybe it was a neighbor, coming to see if you were okay.”
“Right,” she said, anger lacing the word. She’d lived in Denver all her life, and in this neighborhood for the past ten years. Everyone knew her by name, knew who she was. Some had purchased her artwork and had it hanging in their homes. Friendships and relationships had splintered the moment Justin was murdered and the police had made it clear she was their top suspect. Few people wanted to be seen with her and those who did were punished. Like Reilly.
Susan coughed, the cold of the night sharp against her lungs and disappointment heavy on her shoulders. She felt trapped and without options. Her life was falling apart and at the moment, Brady’s help was the only lifeline dangling within reach.
* * *
Brady studied Susan’s face. Exhaustion framed her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well. The urge to pull her into his arms was overwhelming. He wanted to do something, anything to make her feel better. Though he wasn’t here to comfort her, gentleness and kindness could help. He could relax her and earn her trust. He’d coax the missing information out of her.
He’d meant to help her as a friend. But when it came to being close to her, touching her, those boundaries were unclear and his body had its own ideas. Making love with Susan had always put them both at ease. Kissing her had been a lengthy and intensely pleasurable activity. She liked having her feet rubbed and her calves massaged at the end of a difficult day and he’d been happy to oblige her. Taking care of her had been important to him.
Brady quashed those thoughts. That was the past. The landscape of the present was much different.
Susan’s fiancé hadn’t been dead a week. She was heartbroken and grieving. She didn’t want Brady in her life. She certainly wouldn’t want him in her bed. If she knew what he was thinking, she would shut him out completely.
Her current frame of mind wasn’t conducive to learning what he needed to about Justin’s murder. Brady would have to win back her trust. Maybe they would never stand on the same ground they once had, but he’d settle for getting close enough to help his brother.
“Do you have a place to stay?” Brady asked her.
Susan rubbed her forehead. “I can call my mother.”
That wouldn’t be easy on her. Susan didn’t have a good relationship with her mother and if anything, her mother would add stress. “I don’t know what’s going on yet, but from what I can see, this investigation is being bungled. Badly. The police suspect you. They’re not looking out for you. I can. I will. Stay with me. I’ll keep you safe,” Brady said.
Wariness flickered across Susan’s face. “That isn’t a good idea.”
It was a great idea. He could keep her close, protect her and work on establishing a friendship with her. “I’m planning to watch over you and keep you safe. I can continue to follow you around, or you can make it easy on me and stay close.”
“Easier on you?” Susan asked.
Brady shrugged. “It will be harder on my leg if I have to follow you around all the time with you working to dodge me.”
I
ndecision and a hint of compassion flickered across her face. “Staying together will create more problems than it solves.”
For her or for him? He could control himself. Brady knew Susan well enough to read her emotions. She needed someone to look out for her. She was run-down and exhausted. A gentle push and she’d agree. “You need a place to stay. You need someone to watch your back. I can offer both, no strings attached.” Why had he felt the need to add the last phrase? Of course he wouldn’t expect any attachment from her. He’d had his chance for her love and friendship and had blown it. Twice. Once when he’d broken up with her and again when she’d visited him in the hospital. Now, she was hurting, her heart broken over another man and she needed time to heal.
Susan folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t have much choice at the moment, do I?”
He didn’t mince words. “No, you don’t.” Given Justin’s murder, Reilly’s suspicions and the events of the evening, Susan needed someone to protect her. Brady would be that man. His knee stung as if to remind him he was working with a deficiency.
He hated that he was weak and questions about his abilities flickered through his thoughts. She’d agreed to stay with him, but if tested, would his injury get in the way and prevent him from protecting her? Would he fail again at his duty, leaving Susan for dead and Reilly paying the price for a crime he didn’t commit?
* * *
Ten minutes later, Susan was buckling her seat belt in Brady’s truck. The same pickup truck he had driven when they’d dated. She ran her fingers over the dash, memories invading her senses. Before she could tumble into reminiscing about the past, a loud voice screamed in her mind to stay somewhere else. Anywhere else. Staying with Brady was a mistake. The last time she’d spent the night at his place, they’d been lovers.
The last day they’d been together before Brady ended their relationship, they’d spent at the park. The weather had been unseasonably warm and Susan had her new camera and lenses. Brady had played in a pickup football game with a few friends he’d run into. He hadn’t wanted to leave her especially when he had limited free time, but she’d enjoyed sitting on the sidelines and taking pictures. Justin had been playing in the game that day, as well. It was the first time she had met him.