Kiss Me Deadly

by Susan Kearney

“A few cuts and bruises. I’m sore and banged up, but otherwise okay or the paramedics would have taken me to Tampa General.”

  “You and Gabby are all I have.” Tears rolled down her mother’s cheeks. “The newscaster said you were attacked because of your work.”

  “Mom, that was sheer speculation.”

  “But even if your career might be putting you in danger, you should stop taking clients with violent spouses.”

  “That’s like buying an alarm system after the robbery. Besides, I can’t cut my caseload and income too much.”

  “But you have job security,” her mother argued.

  “True. But I have to pull my weight. And now that Catherine has already semi-retired, she could bring in a new senior partner—one who doesn’t consider me part of their family.”

  Being a single parent and the family’s sole support wasn’t easy, but Mandy wouldn’t change her life if it meant not having Gabby now. Mandy’s life wasn’t two-point-five kids and a picket fence. That had never been an option with Zack, who’d been up-front when he’d told her he wasn’t and never would be altar material.

  She sometimes fantasized about what might have happened if she and Zack had spent more time together, but with reality slapping her in the face on a daily basis, she kept this daydream short. So what if they both loved to eat junk food and watch Star Trek reruns? So what if Zack had taken old and ailing Gray Kitty to the vet to be put down because she couldn’t do it? Zack might have been fun and kind and sexy as hell, but he was DEA, through and through. His brother had died of a drug overdose, and Zack’s work was not what he did, but who he was.

  So she’d coped as best she could. “Thanks to my career, we have medical insurance, a safe place to live, and Gabby has a loving caregiver. That’s you, Mom.” She smiled and forced a soothing calm she didn’t feel into her tone. “Let’s not argue. Gabrielle wants for nothing.”

  “Except more time with her mother.” Her tone was pleading for her understanding. “I worry that someday she’ll resent you for working so much.”

  After Mandy’s father had died when she was twelve, her mother had worked two shifts, often leaving Mandy on her own. And her mother still felt guilty, but Mandy, even as a child, had understood the need to work to pay bills. Thanks to the public library, Mandy had survived those years, and hadn’t ended up on drugs like so many others from the neighborhood. “Mom, she’ll understand, just like I understand that you had no choice about working double shifts to feed me.”

  Her mother was great with her granddaughter, and Mandy was grateful. But even if Catherine okayed it, cutting back was not an option. She had too many bills. Too many plans for Gabby’s future. If accomplishing her goals meant splitting her every waking hour between work and family, then that’s what she’d do. “I want Gabrielle to grow up in a safe home, go to a good school, have regular dental care. There’s nothing wrong in my wanting her to have what I didn’t have.”

  “I did the best I could.” Her mother’s eyes teared again. “You still blame me because I couldn’t provide better?”

  “Mom, I’ve never blamed you.” Mandy unwrapped the towel and carefully patted her hair dry. No matter how many times she’d told her mother that she didn’t blame her for their poverty, her mother didn’t listen.

  Far too often Mandy still saw women in similar situations. Helping women get through their divorce was one of the reasons, the primary reason, Mandy had become an attorney. She considered herself fortunate that she had a career she loved, a career that, at the same time, provided a secure future for her daughter.

  The phone rang, cutting off any reply her mother might have made. Mandy tried not to sound relieved when she said, “I’ll get it,” then strode into her bedroom for the phone.

  The familiarity of her surroundings reassured her in a way her mother hadn’t. She wasn’t at the bottom of the river. She was home. Safe in her room that she’d decorated with the same care she’d done Gabby’s. Plush cream carpeting matched the sleek Italian furniture and the lounge chair by the windows where she often read briefs late into the night under an arching chrome reading light. Lots of silk plants in ceramic pots; one of them, a giant palm tree, brought the tropical outside into her personal space. At the moment creamy floor-to-ceiling curtains covered her waterfront view of the Hillsborough River, and she appreciated them being closed. She’d seen quite enough of the river today. The sleigh bed was festive and cheerful with its strawberry duvet and an assortment of embroidered pillows. She picked up the phone, which rested in its cradle on her nightstand beside a picture of her little family—Mom, Gabby, and her dressed in pirate costumes they’d worn during the Gasparilla Parade last February.

  Mandy checked caller ID. It was Dana. “Hi. I’m okay.”

  “You could have . . . died.” Over the telephone, her friend’s voice broke, and Mandy braced herself. Another of her nearest and dearest had just gotten the news. “I’m a wreck. I got off the plane from Chicago, and I heard . . . I called your cell phone first—”

  “It’s at the bottom of the river along with my purse, credit cards, and our Powerball lottery ticket.” Every week the women in the office bought one ticket, playing the same numbers. This week it had been Mandy’s turn to make the purchase.

  “Well, it’s certainly not your lucky day. You can buy another ticket tomorrow.” Dana hesitated as if reluctant to say more. Mandy envisioned her friend’s worried eyes and wished she could give her a hug. Finally, Dana spit out her words in a rush. “I’m not sure that I’ll be able to sleep until I can give you a hug and make sure you’re really in one piece.”

  Mandy’s throat tightened with thanks that she had such a good friend. Dana’s husband, Sam, was no doubt waiting on nearby Davis Islands for his wife to come home. But even after working a twelve-hour day, then flying home from O’Hare, Dana would land on Mandy’s doorstep within the hour, toting a gallon of her favorite rum raisin ice cream if Mandy said she needed company or a shoulder to cry on.

  “I’m exhausted,” Mandy admitted, pulling back the duvet, sitting and sinking against her pillows, doubting if she’d sleep a wink tonight. When she closed her eyes, would she envision the water pouring into her car, the door jamming, her lungs burning?

  “I’ll come straight over,” Dana offered.

  “No need. I just want to rest.”

  Considerate as always, Dana didn’t push and changed the subject. “The newscaster said your attacker might have been the spouse of one of our clients.”

  “They were speculating,” Mandy sighed. “The cops have no idea who he was.”

  “We need to go through your cases. See if anyone matches the description you gave. I do wish the newscaster had kept the details private. We don’t need a lunatic on the loose, knowing you can identify him.”

  “Maybe that will give him a reason to stay away.”

  Dana released a long sigh. “I don’t want you to take chances, especially when we don’t know who was after you or why. Let’s hire someone to protect you.”

  A bodyguard? After what happened last time?

  “No way.” Mandy’s refusal burst with too much force for Dana not to realize she’d struck a nerve. But discussing the subject was like pouring acid on a nerve. Mandy had only known one bodyguard. Zachary Taylor.

  “Someone tried to kill you, Mandy.”

  “I know.” Mandy couldn’t tell Dana her real reason for refusing a bodyguard—she didn’t need any reminders of her last experience with personal protection. Memories of meals with Zack, his holding her in his arms after Gray Kitty had died and she’d sobbed her eyes out, the joy she’d felt in his presence, both the days and the nights—the magical time he’d ended up in her bed. She didn’t want any reminders. Mandy made up the first excuses that came to mind. “Look, we have no reason to believe this attack wasn’t random. And I don’t want to give
up my privacy. It will confuse Gabby and stress out my mother.”

  “Sweetie, you should be worried about your safety and not everyone else. Look, we’ll get someone you know. Maybe I can contact Zack—”

  “No!” This conversation was going from bad to worse. She’d never really understood why she’d let Zack get close or why she’d responded to him like she had. She wasn’t the impulsive type. She’d finished college and law school by adhering to a strict set of rules and was proud of her self-discipline. When other girls had partied, Mandy had studied. When other girls at the firm hit the clubs, she’d worked overtime on her cases. However, the night Gabby was conceived—Zack had been ready for sex, and she’d been ready to have him. Somehow, the man had brought out a physical and emotional side of her that made her forget her rules. Even now the tantalizing memories seemed almost as if she’d been another person . . . and while she wanted to put the incident down to hormones—she couldn’t. Since a tiny part of her still longed for the extraordinary, to free that part of herself once more, seeing him again was not a good idea. She took a deep breath. “You will not ask your brother to drop his important undercover work to babysit me. Understood?”

  “You sound frazzled. At least take a few days off.”

  “Rearranging all my appointments for even a few days won’t be easy . . . It will throw off my schedule for a month.”

  “Mom won’t mind. Spend some time with Gabby before we head to California.”

  Mandy restrained a groan. She’d almost forgotten about the depositions in California. Now wasn’t the best time to leave, but she had to work, and the appointments had been made months ago. “Okay. I’ll stay home for a few days. I should be safe enough between the island’s security and my alarm system. And I’ll think about protection, okay? If I need it, I’ll arrange it myself.” And she’d hire a female bodyguard.

  “Take as much time off as you need.” Dana hesitated as if reluctant to speak, then suggested, “I don’t want you worrying about your family’s safety while we’re in California. So why don’t you send Gabby and your mom to our beach house while we’re out of town?”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “It’s not imposing. You’re family,” Dana insisted, and Mandy winced. Dana believed she was speaking metaphorically, not literally. After Mandy had discovered she was pregnant, she’d considered what to tell Zack, what to tell his family—never forgetting their one-night stand had been just that, a one-night stand.

  Under normal circumstances, she would have told Zack about their child. She believed fathers had a right to know about their children. But Zack didn’t live an ordinary life.

  While she might have fallen for Zack, she couldn’t say the same about his dangerous career. Zack himself had blamed his undercover work for his failed marriage. Before offering him the job, the DEA had warned his wife in an interview. At the time, she’d said she wouldn’t mind if Zack was gone for months on end. At the time, she’d said she wouldn’t object if he disappeared in the middle of the night without explanation. She’d stated she could live with a husband who couldn’t talk about his work. But his soon-to-be ex had been wrong. She couldn’t deal with Zack’s mysterious silences, his sudden and unexplained absences. And Mandy didn’t know if she could, either.

  Even if Zack had known about their child and had married Mandy, he would have been gone most of the time in his DEA job, and she didn’t want that. If he’d left the DEA, she would have destroyed his dream. Knowledge of Gabby could only make him feel guilty and distract him, and distractions could place a DEA agent’s life in danger. Besides, telling him about his daughter would certainly make Zack unhappy, and she didn’t want to torment him.

  Maybe she was rationalizing. Maybe she just wanted to keep Gabby all to herself. But her pregnancy had trapped her between a rock and a hard place. Early on, she’d decided little good would come from telling Zack about Gabby. Her daughter didn’t need a grudging father, and Mandy didn’t want a grudging man in her life. So Mandy had finally and reluctantly decided to keep Gabby’s father’s identity a secret—for as long as Zack remained undercover. Maybe longer, depending on his career choices.

  If Dana had known Gabby was really her niece, she’d be even more insistent on sending the baby to safety. Dana doted on Gabby, often accompanying them on their outings, early morning walks along the island’s bike paths, where the two friends took turns pushing the stroller while they chatted. Family or not, with Mandy’s mother and daughter’s safety uppermost in her mind, she couldn’t refuse. “Thanks, Dana. I’m sure they’ll love the beach and I will feel better knowing they’re safe.”

  “Good. I thought we might try to meet my dad and Zack for dinner while we’re in L.A.”

  Mandy tensed, her thoughts racing. She’d never intended to keep Gabby a secret from him forever, wanting to tell him in person—when the time was right. Since she couldn’t spill the secret to his family before she’d told him, the secret weighed on her, but she was doing the best she could in a bad situation.

  During the last two years, she’d seen no reason to alter her initial decision to keep her secret. Zack’s contact with his own family had been sporadic and infrequent, and he hadn’t called Mandy—not once.

  But if he could free himself from his undercover work, he’d return Dana’s phone calls. Visit with her. Mandy dreaded what might happen if Dana mentioned to her brother that Mandy had a child. Would he count backwards? Would he care?

  She clutched the phone, careful to keep her tone casual. “I don’t want to be in the way. You don’t get to see your brother and dad that often.”

  “That’s why I originally agreed to do the deposition. But Dad’s in Vegas for an equipment convention and Zack . . . Zack and I are playing phone tag.”

  “Anything wrong?” Mandy had to ease her grip on the phone.

  “It’s probably nothing.” Dana kept her tone light, but she wouldn’t have brought up being concerned about Zack for no reason. “He’s under deep cover on a drug case. He might not come up for air for months.”

  Mandy glanced at the nightstand and the framed picture of her and Gabrielle holding hands, Gabrielle had the same ridged nails as Zack. Vividly, Mandy still recalled his strong fingers running through her hair, candlelight glowing off his powerful chest.

  “Zack can take care of himself,” Mandy said. She’d learned in their short time together that although he didn’t keep a schedule, he rarely let a few days go by before he made time to work out. A crack shot and a natural athlete, he possessed split-second reflexes that could mean the difference between life and death.

  She wondered if he ever thought about their brief encounter, and if so, where she ranked in his memories. For her, their one night together was a highlight of her life. At the time, she’d thought she might be in love—now she dismissed the feeling as chemistry. Surely, he wouldn’t think of her as often as she thought of him. Because every time she looked into Gabrielle’s sapphire irises rimmed with a circle of sky blue, she saw Zack’s eyes. When Gabby smiled, Mandy saw his smile. She was grateful that if Dana had ever noted the similarities, she’d never once mentioned them.

  “L.A. will be work,” Dana insisted, “and you need a change of scenery. And for fun, we’re putting your choices at the top of the to-do list,” Dana teased.

  Mandy didn’t want to risk running into Zack but couldn’t say so. Nor could she back out of the trip. They’d only be out there for three days. “I was hoping you’d take me to that California restaurant, the one where you and Sam met,” she admitted.

  “Deal. And I’ll drop by and give you the keys to the beach house in the morning,” Dana offered.

  “Great. See you tomorrow.”

  Mandy hung up and her mother breezed in, dinner plate and a large glass of ice tea in hand. “You should eat.”

  “Thanks.” At the mention of foo
d, Mandy’s stomach rumbled again. She’d exerted a lot of energy swimming from the car and then shivering. Her aching muscles demanded nourishment to heal. She accepted the plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and greens. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

  Her mother offered a rare smile. “I am your mother, after all.”

  Her good mood made Mandy’s request easier. “Mom, while Dana is taking me with her to L.A. this weekend, can you take Gabrielle to Catherine’s beach house?”

  “You’re still going?”

  “I’m taking off the next few days to spend with you and Gabby. The trip with Dana is work, and it’s just a precaution for you to go to the beach. But I’ll feel better if I know you are safe.”

  Her mother’s tone filled with worry. “You think now is a good time to leave?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her mother bit her lower lip. “The police haven’t arrested the man who knocked your car off the bridge. Suppose he goes after you again?”

  “The trip isn’t for a few days. If we have any problems at all, if I think you and Gabby are in any danger, I won’t leave.”

  Her mother sighed, rolled her eyes, leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I don’t know why I say anything. You never listen. I’m worried about him going after you in California.”

  Mandy always listened, but she had to use her own good judgment. “Mom, the chance of him following me to another state is minimal. Try not to worry so much. Just have fun with Gabby.”

  “I will. Besides, you know I can’t resist spending as much time with my granddaughter as I can.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Chapter Four

  One month earlier . . .

  SOME DEA AGENTS dealt with grief by swilling beer. Some shot China White or Mexican Mud. Others chased away nightmares with mindless sex. A few turned to God. For once, Zack had his own method—he fought pain with pain.

  Zack absorbed a punch to his chin, his chest, his stomach, needles of agony stabbing his body. Hands lowered, he shifted slightly, his feet refusing to obey his command to remain a target and hold still. Instead, he danced around the ring, bracing for the next blow.