Love Under Fire

by Frances Housden

  Somebody better get this tape off her mouth soon, or she’d drown in her own tears. Suddenly she had everything to live for. But only if Rowan survived.

  Chapter 16

  T he pale peach monolith that was Auckland Central surveyed the city from its bastion of autumn-hued, scoria block work.

  Jo looked down on the view from the fifth floor, corner window of Detective Inspector Mike Henare’s office, sighing. She’d come home.

  “Well, does it live up to your memories?”

  Jo looked over her shoulder as the DI’s well-remembered rumble filled the space behind her. He was a huge man, barrel-chested, deep voiced, and his word was law in the homicide division. He was the man who’d sent her away from Auckland, and the one who’d brought her back. And for that she could kiss him, but wouldn’t ever dare to attempt turning the thought into action.

  She left the window and folded her long legs into a chair opposite Henare. “I notice a few changes, but all-n-all it’s just the same, except for all the colored lights and bunting. Honestly boss, you shouldn’t have bothered.”

  “Count yourself lucky. If you’d left it another four weeks I’d have had to take them down again.”

  Jo grinned. “Yeah, like you don’t enjoy Christmas. My memory isn’t that short,” she said, remembering Henare’s light green eyes twinkling over a white Santa beard.

  “Talking about which, according to your last medical you need to give it till after New Year to resume work. Pneumonia is no laughing matter.”

  “It was only a chill,” she protested. So how come her memories of the cold leaching out of the earth and into her bones made her want to shiver?

  And the memory of Rowan, shielding her while he bled from a knife wound, made her want to cry?

  “That’s not what the Doc says.”

  Jo acknowledged the truth with a slight nod. She knew better than to argue when Henare used that tone.

  He stood up, indicating their talk was over, and held out his hand. “Give it until those Christmas lights come down, to return to work. I want you fighting fit.”

  Taking her dismissal on the chin, Jo shook his hand and said, “Goodbye.”

  She’d barely reached the office door, before he called out after her. “You seen McQuaid yet?”

  The question took her straight to a place she didn’t want to be, at least not yet. “No. I wanted to get settled first.”

  His eyes narrowed and he speared her with a no-nonsense look. “Don’t leave it too late.”

  Dear Lord, what did Henare know that she didn’t?

  Scott Stanhope had assured her Rowan had made an excellent recovery. McQuaid’s elder brother wasn’t nearly so bad once she’d gotten to know him, in fact, he’d gone out of his way to help her. One thing she’d learned, Scott would do anything for his brother. He’d had Rowan on his way to Auckland by air ambulance before her icy cold body had slid between the crisp hospital sheets.

  And Scott had visited her often, hobbling into her room on crutches to keep her informed of Rowan’s progress.

  Keeping her eyes on Henare, she nodded, pulling the door closed behind her. “Maybe I’ll go see him tonight.”

  Eight o’clock already. The sun slid down the blue wall of sky, bursting into a blaze of pink as it hit the horizon, long before Jo was ready to face Rowan. She couldn’t leave it too much later and then simply turn up at his door.

  Yeah, she could have called ahead, but that would have narrowed her options. Right at the moment, she could still turn tail and run.

  At least that’s what she told herself looking into the foyer, from where she stood on the sidewalk outside the golden-beige Quay West serviced apartment block.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, she released a thin stream of air between her pursed lips, then moistened them, swallowing quickly, remembering the trouble she’d taken to get her lipstick just right.

  To get everything just right.

  Jo looked down at her new red suit, wishing she felt as confident inside as she did out. She’d lost a little weight. Would Rowan notice?

  He hasn’t got a show of noticing unless you go inside.

  Ten steps took her into the foyer. She knew because she counted them. It was easier than concentrating on the purpose of her visit, the reason that had brought her here.

  The foyer reminded her of the great hall of a manor house she’d seen in some magazine, with wide stairs rising from a sea of marble before branching in two at second floor level. Minus the reception desk, of course. Jo noticed that it didn’t take a second for the rail-thin receptionist, hair scraped back tight enough for a face-lift, to home in with her laser-like gaze.

  Tossing her freshly shampooed hair, Jo targeted the lifts as if she owned the place, though her normal stride was hampered by the tight cut of her skirt. Pleased to reach her destination without a break in the rhythm of her three-inch heels, she swiped the key card Scott had given her for Rowan’s floor and waited.

  And waited, conscious of her tapping toes, upping the beat to match her heart rate, taking it faster, beyond impatient and into nervy. The lift doors yawned open and her stomach turned over as she caught her reflection in the mirrored interior.

  Too late to back out now.

  In hindsight, rehearsing first might have been considered a wiser move, except she didn’t have the words, only the feelings. Every time she tried shaping her thoughts into meaningful phrases, her emotions overtook logic and threatened to choke her.

  The way they were now.

  One floor from the top the lift stopped and she got out. Scott had given her directions. “Turn left and the door will be facing you.” He hadn’t told her that the corridor was a mile long or that the lush pile of the carpet would silence each footfall, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  What did you say to a man who had saved your life not once, but twice? A man who’d claimed to love her.

  A man she’d flicked off because of a silly thing like a name.

  She faced the door, acknowledging that in this ambience the person living behind the carved door would inevitably be more Stanhope than McQuaid.

  When it finally opened she was positive.

  Rowan was dressed to go out.

  Why else the black tuxedo that fit like a glove over white shirt and black tie? And the toffee streaks of hair she’d twisted round her fingers were now short and sleekly styled, not chopped. Had he ever looked so handsome, so relaxed, so at ease with his body? So much like a man who hadn’t missed her?

  Wearing heels had always brought her eyes level with his, making them easier to read. The message tonight read, “Surprise,” with more than a dash of hesitation.

  Oh, hell, what if he wasn’t alone? Her impulsive plan hadn’t taken that into account.

  Then Rowan’s white smile curled around her senses, turning her knees to water and her heart to mush. If she needed proof that she loved him, it was there in the soft, womanly, warm response he dredged up from her soul. And in the nervous conclusion that she was definitely the wrong woman for him.

  Yet, she knew with certainty that above all others, Rowan was the one person who deserved the truth.

  Rowan took in every detail, from the top of her gleaming hair to the tips of her toes and widened his smile. “Jo, you look wonderful.”

  “You, too, Rowan. Scott told me you were well again, but I’d visions of you looking wan, but interesting.”

  “I heal quick. Scott owns the top floor and I’ve made use of his roof garden.” He stood back as it dawned on him, they were still in the doorway. “C’mon in. Would you like a drink?”

  Jo took a step, then hesitated. “But you’re going somewhere.”

  He looked down at his bow tie, pulling on the end to loosen it. “Business. It wasn’t important, I was filling in for Scott, but I’m a poor substitute for my brother when it comes to social functions.”

  She moved into the small foyer, her scent reaching out to pull at his senses. He searched his memory to recall if h
e’d ever mentioned how much he loved her in red. As if mesmerized, he gripped the edge of the door as she passed, praying she’d worn the suit molding her breasts to awaken memories of his own journey in that hauntingly familiar territory.

  Praying this visit meant she’d changed her mind about him, forgiven his deception, he joined her on the step down to the living room. Rowan signaled the direction with one hand, unnerved by her silence. “Grab a chair.” He brushed the back of his knuckles against her arm and felt her steely tension under the fine silky fabric. “Would you like a drink?” he repeated.

  She nodded. “Scotch.”

  Although he’d said “chair,” sofa was what he’d had in mind, and disappointment was uppermost in his mind as he returned with the drinks to find she’d chosen a high-back wing chair facing the large, comfortable four-seater.

  She looked up as he drew near, her legs crossed and her ankle swinging in front, making a barrier of her pointed-toe shoe.

  Her mouth pulled back in a one-sided travesty of a smile as he stretched out toward her with one of the glasses.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, forcing out the words.

  “You’re pregnant,” he barked louder than intended, caught by the surprise at hoping it was true, realizing he’d snatch at any chance to bind her to him. Quickly, he pulled back the glass. “Pregnant women shouldn’t drink alcohol.”

  Jo didn’t look up to answer, she was too busy wiping spilled whiskey from her stocking. “I’m not pregnant. How could I be, we always used protection.”

  Rowan sighed. Too bad.

  Of course, Jo hadn’t heard the story of Scott’s girlfriend puncturing condoms with a needle. It would be just like Scott to leave them lying around. He passed over Jo’s drink, then glanced at the sofa. It looked a million miles away from where he wanted to be, so he chose the corner of the coffee table instead. “Okay, go ahead, I’m all ears.”

  “First of all, I want to apologize for blowing up at you because of your name. When I was lying in the hospital I realized how—”

  “Hell! I never even asked how you were.”

  “It’s no biggie. I feel pretty good. Henare has other ideas, though. He won’t let me work until two weeks after New Year. That’s another thing, they’ve let me come back to Auckland, less harmful for our friends in Nicks Landing. Bull seems to think I attract danger, and I’d be safer in Auckland.”

  God, that was what he wanted, too, Jo to be safe. Eyes closed, he let memory and emotion overtake him. Jo spread-eagled on the dirt and Molly’s knife poised to strike. He never wanted to live through another moment like that. If he had his way, he’d pick her up in his arms and carry her somewhere, anywhere, away from harm. Yet, even as his mind gave voice to the protective emotion, he knew she wouldn’t thank him for it.

  Loving Jo meant accepting her, gun, handcuffs and all. He knew what it was to have a life-shaping decision taken out of your hands, and though he was content now…

  My God, he was content, all he needed was Jo to make his life complete. The realization stunned him. The yearning to be a cop again had disappeared along with his reluctance to commit, to love.

  For years he’d let Scott take all the responsibility for the company, staying on the fringes and letting the money pile up in the bank while he did nothing to earn it. But that had changed. He laughed inwardly, imagining Scott saying, “Not before time.”

  Opening his eyes, he faced Jo and took in the luminous brown of her irises and her quivering bottom lip as if she felt vulnerable by being shut out of his thoughts. “You’re a good cop, Jo, and Henare’s lucky to have you. I guess he was caught between a rock and a hard place after our first little contretemps.”

  “Don’t you stick up for him. I can’t keep up with the man. One, I almost get you killed and he sends me away. Two, I almost get you killed and he brings me home.”

  She stopped midbreath and he knew the exact moment the truth hit her. “You did it. You went and told him what really happened that first time. You told him about Max.”

  “You saved his life.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t make excuses for myself.”

  He took her untouched drink from her fingers and replaced it with his hand. “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

  She swallowed, hard, and let out a deep breath. “Guess that puts you ahead of the game.”

  “Adding up the points again? Haven’t I told you there’s no such thing as a score when it comes to you and me, peaches?”

  God, he was good. With that one word, “peaches,” he got straight through to her heart, tangling her determination with her emotions. With the love she felt for him. It wasn’t fair when she knew she would have to leave once she told him the truth. All she wanted to do was put things right between them first.

  “If you must keep score, how about evening things up by saying you’ll marry me?”

  How did he do that? How could he do that?

  Rowan had no idea that he was tying her heart in knots. The lump in her larynx threatened to choke her. Her response rubbed her throat raw as she forced her words past the baseball that had lodged there.

  “You might want to reconsider the offer when you hear what I have to say. I’ve come here to give you the truth. It’s something I’ve prized most of my life, something my father taught me on his knee. The trouble with that is, on the night Molly abducted me, I found out that the code I’ve lived by…all that I am, has been based on a lie.”

  Rowan got down on his knees in front of her chair. Anxiety written all over his expression. “Hush now. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

  Oh Lord, she was going to cry. But first she had to tell him the truth. “Molly told me my father really had been dealing in drugs, and Rocky had gotten the idea for growing cannabis when he discovered my identity.”

  Rowan leaned closer, staring deep into her eyes.

  His blazed with a declaration of love.

  His said they wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she couldn’t let him do it. She’d almost ruined his life once, and she refused to do it again.

  “Your explanation doesn’t hold water, peaches. I knew all this before. You told me yourself.”

  “Dammit, Rowan! You don’t get it. You just don’t get it.” She gripped him by the shoulder, needing to force him to believe. “I didn’t know the truth about my father, before. I believed it was all lies. And that’s why I can’t marry you. Your family is one of the richest in New Zealand and I’m the daughter of a drug dealer,” she finished, then did something she’d done maybe three times since the day she found out her father was dead—burst into tears.

  Rowan pulled her down off the chair and into his lap, holding her tight in his arms as if he could soak up all her pain. He knew from her sobs that simply holding her wasn’t going to work. Somehow he had to find the right words.

  “As long as I’ve known you, Jo, you’ve been hung up about truth. I’ve seen other cops laugh at you for refusing to bend your beliefs, even slightly. And no matter what your father did, or maybe because of it, you became a damn good cop. One of the best I’ve worked with. Being in love with you even two years ago, doesn’t mean I was prejudiced in your favor. Well, maybe a little bit. But I wasn’t blind. You did a great job.”

  Jo shuddered and he found its echo deep in his chest. She calmed down to a few hiccups, gulping air in between. Her fingers slid under his coat front and he felt their trembling warmth through his shirt. Then she whispered, “Did you mean that? Did you really love me way back when?”

  He placed soft crooning kisses across her brow and her eyelids and breathed her in, filling himself with her essence.

  “Even then. And now I’m going to tell you a truth about love that is indisputable. The heart has no defense against it. We didn’t choose to fall in love, our hearts did it for us, and who are we to question what lies in our hearts?”

  “I do love you.”

  “I know. That’s why I can’t let you g
o, I’m not that much of a fool.” Not any longer. “If you can love a man who lied to you, albeit by omission, I can love the daughter of the man we’re going to prove was framed by Rocky.”

  She tightened her grip on him, pulling him close enough to feel her heart race. “Will you accept a heartfelt apology? At first, I kept you in the dark because I was scared Skelton would get wind of it.”

  “You mean, me and my big mouth?” Her tone was wry with self-knowledge. And he knew what it cost her.

  “I love what you can do with that mouth,” he said, placing his lips over hers for a short demonstration. “Afterwards, when you were so honest with me I cursed my own ineptitude. Cowardice was what held me back. The fear that I’d lose you…” He didn’t have to say, “The way I did.”

  But Jo had more important matters in mind. He held her away slightly, missing her warmth immediately, then looked down, as one by one, his dress studs began to disappear from the front of his shirt. Her palm pressed against his chest above his heart and set it pounding so hard he felt it might leap straight into her hands. Right where he wanted it, where he’d wanted to place it for so long.

  After a few moments of absolute bliss, Jo tilted her head onto his shoulder. He liked the invitation he read in her eyes and caught his mouth with hers, widening all the known parameters of rapture as she let him finish what she’d started.

  A sigh took Jo into a realm of wonder.

  Oh…this was love…what else could it be?

  With his hands forked through her hair, he held her head still, just studying her face. His hands slid over her back and hips, yet he held her with his eyes. “When I think of what Molly tried to do… She was the real devil of the piece.”

  His body trembled with emotions and the only way to appease them, was claiming her lips in a swift, harsh kiss filled with passion’s promise.

  Chest heaving, he broke away and said, “It never occurred to you that Molly might have told you all that about your father simply to hurt you? I’ve tried to reason it out. In the end she hated Rocky for what he’d done, depriving her of a family. And she hated you for being the messenger, for knowing how he’d humiliated her.”