Gotcha!

by Christie Craig

  Cup to her lips, she said, “You think he’s all bad.”

  Jake shrugged. “I think he’s managed to get in a lot of trouble.”

  “Trouble and Billy go hand in hand,” she admitted.

  “Then why do you keep trying to protect him?”

  “He’s not a bad kid. He just doesn’t think things through. But he’s loyal and…he stood up for me.” Tears brightened her eyes. “Four years old, and he was willing to take on a two hundred-pound drunk.” She shook her head.

  Jake figured there was a story behind that, and he almost asked, but the way she looked away told him she regretted divulging even that much. “So, you’re close?”

  “Aren’t all siblings?”

  Until they steal your fiancées he thought. “I guess.” His gaze caught the schoolbooks on the end table. “What are you taking in school?” he asked, though he already knew.

  “Law. And no wisecracks.” Her tone was lighter; she clearly appreciated the change of subject.

  “Hey, I’ve met a few lawyers I liked,” he replied. “For a few minutes. Well, a second. Okay, I’m lying, but it could happen.” He grinned, and when she laughed he remembered hearing her laughing with Donaldson. He liked it better now when it was just him and her.

  The blinking red light on the answering machine caught his gaze, and he recalled the message from the priest. Was there a good way to approach that subject? For some reason, Hey, before I make a move on you, are you really considering entering a convent? didn’t sound too smooth. But he needed to know.

  “You got a call tonight,” he remarked.

  Nodding, she pressed play.

  Her expression remained unreadable. The priest’s words rang out, then the message clicked off and Jake waited for her to say something, to offer an explanation.

  “It’s late.” She stifled a yawn.

  “Father Luis sounded as if that was important.”

  “Yes.” She hugged her pillow closer, her gaze finding the clock.

  “So, you’re Catholic?”

  “Why? You have something against that, too?” Smiling, she drank some more hot chocolate.

  “No. Just curious what was so important.”

  “It’s not about Billy.”

  “I didn’t think it was.”

  She studied him. “One of the sisters is leaving, and they want me to take over her job.”

  Damn. “And you’re actually thinking about it?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I…yeah. But what does that have to do with Billy?”

  “You’re really considering it? You’re joking, right?”

  Elvis pranced into the room and jumped up on the sofa. Macy smoothed her hand down the cat’s back. “And you have an opinion on this because…?”

  “No. I don’t.” He took a deep breath, then admitted, “Oh, shit. Why lie? Yeah, I have an opinion.”

  She looked shocked, and he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Religious beliefs were not something he questioned. Each to his own, he’d grown up believing. Nevertheless, celibacy wasn’t something he grasped, and from what he’d heard, celibacy was a biggie for nuns.

  Her brow crinkled in puzzlement. “And what’s this opinion?”

  “You don’t seem the type.”

  Real smooth. His gut told him to bow out now. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” he apologized. He shut his mouth, planned to keep it shut, but then his gaze went back to her mouth, to that mouth with which he wanted to get up close and personal. To the body he wanted to get next to while naked.

  Damn it to hell and back, he was actually lusting over a soon-to-be nun! He let out a groan. “I didn’t know they accepted divorced nuns. And, personally, I don’t think you have the personality for it.”

  Her eyes widened. Her cat rose and tapped her chin with his nose. Then the dang animal rubbed himself against her breasts and purred. Hell, Jake would be purring too if she let him get that close. But no, she had no intention of letting him.

  Was she smiling?

  “The personality?” she asked.

  He shook his head and decided that since his damned foot was already in his mouth, he might as well continue. “You knee men in the balls. You’re hardheaded, stubborn, sassy, and…well, sexy as hell. You—” Wait, that was definitely a smile on her lips. “What?”

  “You haven’t been around a lot of nuns, have you?”

  “No.”

  “They can be pretty stubborn. Opinionated. And sassy.”

  “But not sexy, right? You’re gonna tell me you won’t miss sex?”

  An unreadable twinkle lit in her eyes, and she snorted. “I pretty much live a nun’s life anyway.”

  He shook his head. “By choice, or because some jerk hurt you?”

  “Both. And…well, some people speculate that all nuns are lesbians.”

  He shook his head, and it took a second for him to clear it. He pushed a hand through his hair. “Er, are you lesbian?”

  She stood up. “I…Restroom.”

  Macy had herself a good laugh in the bathroom. Now, sitting back on her sofa, she watched Sergeant Jake Baldwin’s fingers thread through the dark strands of his hair. She pulled the throw pillow back to her chest and buried her mouth in it so he couldn’t see her smile.

  Wow, the man was easy to tease. Fun to tease. Even when she was half sick with worry over her brother, she enjoyed Jake Baldwin’s company.

  “So, you’re going to be a nun with a law degree? Wear a habit into the courtroom?” he asked. “Sounds like a sitcom to me.”

  “Mmm, a man-hating, lesbian nun with a law degree. Bet I could intimidate my witnesses.” Laughter caught in her chest.

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re pulling my chain.”

  “Why would I do that?” Why was she? She was toying with herself, too. She didn’t want to get any closer to this man. Didn’t want to continue liking him. “Well, it’s late, Sergeant Baldwin. And I have an early morning.”

  His expression changed from suspicion to concern. “I think my sleeping here again might be a good idea.”

  “Here?”

  “On the sofa, of course—since you’re considering a convent.” His smile said how ludicrous he felt that was, and it made her heart beat a little faster.

  “I don’t think…”

  He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. “Tanks knows where you live. If what Ellie says is true, this guy would just as soon slit your throat as—”

  He was just trying to push her buttons. “I’ll keep the phone by the bed. And remember, the FBI thinks Tanks has taken off.” That was right, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t leave her unprotected if the convict was expected to return.

  Baldwin shook his head. “They’ve been wrong before. Do you know how long it takes for someone to break into a house? A person can be inside in sixty seconds. Guess how long the response time is for a patrol car.”

  Macy stared at him. “Do you really believe he’d stay in town just to—”

  “I think it’s a stupid risk to take, when you have me here. I’ll sleep on the sofa. You won’t know I’m around.” He smiled. “So your virtue’s safe—unless you don’t want it to be.” The heat in his eyes had returned.

  “But—”

  He lifted his hands in a display of mock fear. “You think I’d try something with a soon-to-be man-hating lesbian nun working on her law degree?”

  She almost grinned, but the humor of the situation faded as the bright patches of white paint on her walls caught her attention. He’d just as soon slit your throat as—Baldwin’s words echoed inside her head. She met his eyes.

  The truth? She was afraid of Baldwin, too. But who frightened her more, a man who would cut off her head…or a man who could rip out her heart? But Baldwin couldn’t touch her heart unless she let him, and she wasn’t letting him.

  “Just one night.” She could trust herself for one night. Couldn’t she?

  “It might be over tomorrow,” he agreed.

  Might be? Then he�
�d leave and she wouldn’t have to see him anymore. The thought didn’t make her nearly as happy as it should have.

  Macy stood and collected a blanket and a pillow from the hall closet before she had a chance to change her mind. She dumped them in the detective’s lap and said, “There’s only one bathroom. The lock’s broke. So when you’re in there…sing.”

  He grinned and warned her, “Can’t sing worth a damn.”

  “Then hum.” She took three steps.

  “Macy?”

  She turned and faced him. He looked at her with a mixture of concern and heat—not the way a man should look at a wannabe nun. But then, she wasn’t a nun, and the way her body responded made that all too clear. “Yes?”

  “You were joking about the nun thing. Right?”

  She crossed herself as she’d seen Father Luis and Sister Beth do. “Bless you, Baldwin.” Then she headed to her bedroom, adding over her shoulder, “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

  God help her, she was smiling again.

  Jake refluffed a pillow that had no fluffing capacity. He could live with a lot of things, but a wimpy pillow wasn’t one of them. Finding the sofa pillow instead, he stuffed it behind his head. A whiff of Macy floated up, a feminine scent with traces of pizza, and his body tightened. Just his luck! The one woman who would tempt him to resurface in the dating world, and she was a wannabe man-hating lesbian nun out to get her law degree. But, staring at the ceiling, he recalled that twinkle in her eye. She’d been playing him. Hadn’t she?

  A divorcée couldn’t become a nun, could she? Then again, Catholics were famous for annulling marriages. Well, he didn’t know one way or another, but he knew someone who would. His brother. Religion was his brother’s thing, just as it had been their father’s.

  Jake sat up and grabbed his cell phone. He punched in the numbers before he remembered he didn’t talk to his brother anymore—and if he did, he wouldn’t be calling this late. “Damn!” He shut the phone off and dropped it.

  Right then, it hit him. He missed Harry, missed the late-night conversations and religious debates. He missed the Saturday nights when Harry would call to practice his Sunday sermon. Jake seldom attended church, but he’d heard Harry’s sermons. They were good.

  Night and day, day and night. As brothers, the Baldwins were different. But they’d also been as close as two brothers could be. Until Lisa.

  For two years, he and Lisa had dated and made plans. They’d marry in June; she’d be pregnant in two years; they’d have a house in the suburbs in five. None of it had happened. Be happy you got out of the ball and chain, friends had told him when they heard the wedding was off. He’d laughed and said he was dancing to the tune of freedom. That was a damn lie. He’d loved Lisa—he’d wanted the ball and chain. His parents’ love had filled the house with laughter and taken the couple early to bed many nights. Jake had wanted the same thing.

  Yeah, he knew he’d not been the picture-perfect fiancé during those last months. Watching someone you love die isn’t easy. His father’s cancer had returned with a vengeance, and Jake had taken off work and helped his mom care for him. Jake still hadn’t gotten over the grief when Lisa returned his ring, and within a few months, she’d started wearing his brother’s. Within seven months, he’d lost his father, his fiancée, and his brother.

  Jake would have recovered from losing his father. One has no choice but to accept death. Losing Lisa had stung. He could have gotten over that, too. But losing Harry to Lisa had cost too much. It cost him pride and it cost him his brother. He’d thought he could deal with that, eventually, if he never had to see them. But that was the problem. The family reunion was weeks away. Knowing he’d have to see Lisa and Harry together…Damn, he didn’t want to be reminded of all he’d lost.

  For an hour, he juggled the problem in his mind. Then, eager to switch gears away from his family issues, he thought about Macy’s family. He recalled the report he’d read on Billy. The kid had used her car to rob the convenience store. Jake wasn’t sure Billy deserved Macy’s devotion any more than Harry deserved Jake’s. However, in the short conversation he’d had with Billy, he’d certainly heard the boy’s devotion for his sister.

  Take care of my sister, Baldwin. Billy’s words vibrated through Jake’s head, and he pulled the pillow to his nose to breathe in her scent again. “I plan on it, Billy. I plan on it.”

  Rolling over, he tried to shut off his mind and sleep. It worked. His eyes finally drifted shut. But he hadn’t slept five minutes when a loud noise jarred Jake awake.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jake grabbed his gun and, realizing the sound was a knock on the front door, bolted from the sofa into the entryway. As his bare feet hit cold tile he heard someone call his name from the other side.

  “Jake? It’s Mark.”

  Jake sucked air into his lungs. Relief surged, then vanished. Donaldson would only come for a reason. Chances were, the reason wasn’t good.

  He opened the door, trying to shake off his sleepiness. From Donaldson’s tousled appearance, the Golden Boy didn’t fare much better.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I got a call from your friend in Homicide—Anders. He’s at a case and wants you there.”

  “Why didn’t he call me?”

  “He tried your cell. I tried your cell. It’s not on.”

  “Shit!” Jake remembered he’d turned his phone off when he’d almost called his brother. “What’s this about?”

  “Don’t know. But if it’s his case, there’s probably a body.”

  Was it Macy’s brother? Jake fought back a wave of fear, for both what he’d find out and what might happen if he left Macy alone. He pushed a hand over his face and thought about options. Then his gaze alighted on Donaldson.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “So our effort was worth it?” the blond cop asked in a low voice as he entered. He smiled.

  Jake sighed. “I’m sleeping on the couch. And that’s exactly where you’re going to be until I get back.” He went to collect his things.

  A little while later, Jake parked beside a patrol car and took out his badge to help cut his way through the barrage of cops and press. The small white-framed house that was his destination had “rental property” written all over it.

  He spotted Stan Anders in a corner of the living room. From the man’s rumpled appearance, he appeared to have been dragged from bed. Jake nodded at both Stan and the officer beside him.

  “You made it,” his friend said. “Give me a sec.”

  Jake’s gaze drifted around the room. A hubbub of voices, mostly cops’, and the smell of dirty laundry filled the room. No body—not in here. Not that he looked forward to seeing a corpse, but Stan had brought him here for a reason. Considering that a body was usually why Stan showed up, Jake could add one plus one. He just hoped “two” wasn’t Macy’s brother.

  As Stan talked, Jake continued to assess the situation. A robbery maybe? That would explain his being summoned.

  When his friend approached, Jake said, “What’s up?”

  “In here.”

  Jake followed. As he walked past, he noticed a busty redheaded woman sitting on the sofa, sobbing on an officer’s shoulder. She wore a skimpy cocktail dress that left little to the imagination. The officer looked all too happy to be assisting.

  “She works at Girls Galore, if you’re interested,” Stan whispered.

  Jake frowned. “You better have another reason for getting me out of bed.”

  “Hey, she’s hot!” Stan moved into the kitchen. “I know how much you need your beauty rest, but I remembered what you said about your gal’s place. I know it’s a long shot, but…” He pointed to a box on the floor beside a humming refrigerator.

  “Okay, you got my interest.” Jake knelt down beside the case of red spray paint—the same brand and color that had been used at Macy’s. Two cans were missing from the box.

  “The near-naked woman didn’t intrigue you, but a box of spray pai
nt does?” Chuckling, Stan shook his head as Jake got to his feet. “I worry about you.”

  “Is there a body?” Jake’s gaze moved around the room.

  “Yup. Scantily clad women and a murder. Do I know how to throw a party or what?”

  Jake focused on his friend. “You like this too much.”

  Honesty deepened Stan’s tone. “It’s laugh or cry. Now come on, I’ll give you the tour. The vic’s a male. Young. Too young.”

  Jake created a mental picture of Billy Moore from his mug shot. He dreaded explaining this to Macy.

  Passing the sobbing redhead and opportunistic patrol officer again, Jake recalled he’d wanted to hold Macy in just the same way, to comfort her. Yeah, it was happening fast. And fast wasn’t Jake’s style. Not when it came to emotions. He’d dated Lisa a month before she’d gotten under his skin. While he damn well wasn’t backing away from Macy, maybe he should chill out a bit. He’d been pursuing her a bit hard.

  Stan led him to a bedroom. Cops, uniformed and plainclothes, milled everywhere. Jake stopped in the doorway and stared at the corpse sprawled out on the carpet. The boy’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. A deep slit gaped across his throat. Blood haloed his head. The smell of death filled Jake’s sinuses, but he studied the face with relief. It wasn’t Billy.

  “How did you find him?” Jake placed a hand over his nose.

  “Red did. He’s her boyfriend. He was supposed to pick her up from work. When he didn’t show, she caught a ride home with someone else.”

  “Does…did the guy have a record?” Jake asked.

  “She said he was on parole, but she doesn’t know what for. I’ve got someone checking.”

  “Hey, Anders.” An officer motioned for Stan from the other side of the room.

  Having seen enough, Jake went back into the living room. A pizza box on the coffee table caught his gaze, and his thoughts shifted to Macy. The idea of her delivering pizza while Tanks was loose didn’t sit well. He wondered if she even carried pepper spray. Hell, the woman didn’t even have a working cell phone. Of course, he didn’t have to worry about that. Pretty soon she’d trade the pizza uniform in for a nun’s habit.