by Julie Miller
Then he tugged a little harder and urged her to her feet. She willingly stood, expecting to fall into one of their friendly hugs.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to impugn your character.”
Instead of a hug, he settled his hands at either side of her distended waist. He veed his legs apart and pulled her between them. “There’s only one woman I keep my eye on.”
When she realized his lips were zeroing in on hers, she flattened her hands against his shoulders and pushed him back. “Don’t do this, Curt. Don’t spoil our friendship.”
He shook his head and gave a laugh filled with regret. “You should have married me all those years ago, Rache. I’d have treated you better than Simon.”
Touched by his understanding and never-failing support, Rachel slid her arms around his neck and gave him one of those friendly hugs. “Anybody would have treated me better than Simon.”
They laughed together and separated. “So, you never answered my question.” Rachel sat back down. “How did you find out about Josh’s questionable activities?”
“I’m just looking out for you, Rache, you know that.”
“I know.”
Curt dug inside the canvas attaché he’d set on the desk and pulled out a folder. He found the one he wanted and passed it to her. “One of my students saw Tanner and reported it to me this morning. This one.”
She opened the folder and wearily sank back into the chair. The familiar brown eyes and smug grin seemed to be laughing at her, even from the still photograph. “David Brown.”
“I know you have reason to discount his word. But—”
She cut off his quick apology. “I’ve reconsidered my opinion of Mr. Brown. I’m dropping the plagiarism charge against him.”
“You are?”
Rachel rubbed her hand around her belly, feeling a bit queasy. Anne-Marie was fine. She wasn’t. She couldn’t look Curt in the eye. How did Josh do this? How did he sell his principles in the name of doing his job? A plagiarist or a drug dealer? KCPD needed her cooperation. Today the plagiarist would win.
“I still intend to put a reprimand in his file, but he can come back to class.” She closed the cover on the hated picture and returned the file to Curt. “You owe me one.”
“Let me take you to dinner sometime?” He raised his hand as if making an oath. “Just as friends.”
“Dr. Norwood? Dr.—” The hallway door swung open, and a short woman—red-faced and out of breath, came in. “There you are. I tried to catch you after class.”
“We must have passed each other in the hallway. What’s up, Sandy?”
Rachel stood, preparing to turn over her seat to Curt’s secretary. The shorter woman smiled and waved her aside. “No, thanks. Dr. Norwood, you said to let you know as soon as the armored-car delivery team arrived.”
Curt’s face lit up like that of a kid at Christmas. “It’s here?”
“What is it?”
“A Bat Masterson revolver. I plunked down a chunk of money to curate it here for the next nine months.” He jogged to the coatrack and slipped into his coat.
Sandy finished the explanation. “They’re delivering it straight to the museum. I thought you might want to see it.”
“Rachel?” Curt was trying to be polite, but he was already halfway out the door.
“Go. Go.” She laughed as she waved him away. Men and their toys.
Sandy grabbed her coat and hurried after him. Rachel walked more slowly to the coatrack to gather her things.
“Is he gone?”
“Josh!” The familiar blond giant filled the doorway for only a moment before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“Signing up for a research project.”
She followed him across the room to the door of Curt’s office. “You just missed Dr. Norwood.”
“That’s the idea.” He quickly opened the door and went inside.
“Is this legal?”
“Shh.” He went straight to Curt’s file cabinet.
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Josh, is it safe for you to be in here?”
He opened drawers and thumbed through files. Closed them and moved on. “You worried about me, Doc?”
Maybe. Yes. A shiver rippled down her spine. His grin didn’t reach his eyes. This was dangerous. “Don’t you need to have a search warrant to do this?”
“I’m a student, remember?”
Green eyes met blue across the top of Curt’s desk. That was clearly no joke, but a reminder of the distinction she’d made this morning. She was wrong. He was in charge here. He was the one mature enough to admit where their relationship was going.
“Josh, I…”
But this wasn’t the time for discussions or explanations. He stopped his search and angled his head to a point beyond her shoulder. “Watch the door for me, will you?”
“You haven’t answered any of my questions.” She turned and faced the outer office, wondering just what good it would do Josh if she spotted someone coming. Short of breaking one of the sealed windows, she was standing in the only entrance to or from the room. “What are you looking for?”
“This—”
She turned to see the folder he held in his hand, but he twirled his finger in the air, telling her to turn back around and keep watch. She obeyed, and settled for listening to the sound of papers being rifled through behind her.
But she had to talk this out. “Curt says you’re trouble.”
“I will be if he puts his hands on you like that again.”
At the matter-of-fact tone of his voice, she glanced over her shoulder. Though the words had a possessive stamp to them, he never looked up from his perusal of the file in his hand. Should she be thrilled by the claim he’d just made or laugh it off as an example of Josh’s teasing humor?
She did neither. She stuck to a safer line of questioning.
“Do you watch me all the time?”
“Pretty much. When I can’t, I’ve got a couple of friends who’re keeping an eye on you.”
“There are other cops watching me?”
He looked up at her then. “I said I’d keep you safe.”
Locked in the promise of his gaze, she forgot that she was supposed to be keeping watch. But Josh never forgot the danger at hand. He made a copy of the papers in his hand, replaced the folder and then grabbed Rachel’s coat—and Rachel—and guided her out of the office.
Several minutes later they were out in the crisp winter sunshine of the late-February afternoon. Despite the dean’s warning, she found it easy enough to walk side-by-side with Josh across campus, though she kept her hands jammed in her pockets and her head turned down against the cold. It kept her from linking her arm through his and snuggling into the warmth and strength that radiated from him.
“You’ve led several student-based research projects in your career, right, Doc?”
Interesting question. Unexpected, but interesting. “Dozens. The university pays the kids a small stipend to serve as guinea pigs for thesis and doctoral studies. As long as the student meets the profile for the study being done, it’s a good opportunity to build their resume and earn some money. Why?”
“Did you ever conduct a project on nineteenth-century forensic medicine?”
“Why would I? That’s not my field of study.”
“Then, why would a professor of criminal studies be overseeing a genetic research program?”
“What?”
He pulled the rolled-up copies from his jacket and handed them to her. She quickly scanned the contents of the first page. Shocked by what she was reading, she flipped through the other pages. “Sperm donations? That’s Curt’s research program?”
He brushed his fingers against her back to turn her toward the parking lot and his pickup. “You know something?”
“I saw Joey King yesterday. He thanked Curt for the job tip that helped him pay rent this month.”
They stopped at the bright-
red Dodge Ram. Josh pulled out his keys. “Joey, too?”
“Joey, too, what?”
He opened the door and helped her climb in. “According to David Brown, these so-called projects are a cover for the campus’s small-time dealers. They get their name on the list, make a donation, and then use the payment to explain their sudden influx of wealth.”
“You think Curt’s involved with the drugs?”
“I don’t know if he’s the brains behind it, or just an unwitting dupe that someone else is using.”
He shut the door and walked around the truck. She couldn’t picture Curt Norwood as any kind of dupe. She couldn’t imagine him spearheading a group of drug runners, either. There had to be another explanation.
As Josh started the engine, she flipped through the pages again, looking past the names and reading the details of the research itself. “All of these donors participated in the study at the Washburn Clinic.” She reeled as an ice-cold shock of discovery swept through her. She dropped the papers and clutched her arms around her baby.
“Oh God. Oh my God.”
“Easy, Doc. Are you having contractions again?” Josh’s warm hand squeezed her thigh. There was resolute strength in that hand but panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She latched on to his hand and squeezed, feeding him a bit of her own strength with a reassurance. “The baby’s fine.”
But she wasn’t.
“One of those students—one of my students—could be her father.”
Chapter Twelve
“Why can’t we go to the Washburn Clinic and find out if one of those names on the list is 93579?” Josh watched Rachel’s hands gesture emphatically through the air. “You broke into Curt’s office to find that list of names in the first place.”
She sat at the far end of the sofa, propped against a pile of pillows with her legs up in his lap. Josh shook his head and continued to rub the long, delicate arches of her feet. “Doc, c’mon. Your blood pressure, remember?”
“My blood pressure is going to go through the roof if you don’t answer some questions for me.”
He let his massaging stroke slide up to her knee. She had such pretty legs. And a stubborn streak that refused to surrender. He needed to tell her something to get her to calm down—for the baby’s sake and for his own conscience. “David Brown gave me the idea for looking up research projects with the guinea pigs for hire. Since he’s my best lead, I tracked down the ones he was a part of. The research center directed me to Norwood’s office.”
“And the next logical step is to go to the Washburn Clinic, right?”
He stilled his hands and demanded her full attention. “We can’t, Doc. I’ve got a friend running the list of names right now—cross-checking to see if any of those students have arrests or rehab time on their records. If we go to the clinic now, we might tip somebody off and they could cover their tracks. I’m too close to risk that right now.”
“But I could find out who Daddy is.”
Her plea touched his heart. But it couldn’t change his mind. “I know.” He reached up and smoothed the hair away from her temple. “But we will find out, I promise you.”
She covered his hand with hers and pressed it against her cheek, giving him hope that maybe she was learning to trust him a bit. “Your mother raised a good man.”
She turned her head and kissed his palm. The sensation of her soft warmth tickled his skin and skittered along his skin straight to his heart.
“I’ll wait—”
But she wasn’t all softness. Josh laughed as he saw this one coming.
“—but I won’t wait long.”
“I didn’t expect you would. Patience isn’t your best virtue.” As her eyes widened in reaction to his effrontery, Josh leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth, silencing any argument. “You’re a woman of action.”
“And you’re a frustrating pain in the butt.”
“Yeah, but it’s such a cute butt.”
Her cheeks flamed with color at his flirting. She swatted his shoulder. “You’re going to be seeing that butt when I walk out of here and call your mother to tell her what mean things you’re saying to me.”
“Lady, you look good coming or going.”
“Josh!”
He leaned in for another kiss. He loved sharing this teasing banter with her. Loved them interacting as a couple. Loved the reward of her answering kiss. Loved the feel of her long fingers in his hair, stroking and grabbing and—
His coat chirped from the hook by the front door. “Damn.” Josh tore his mouth from Rachel’s and rested his forehead against hers. Just when she was beginning to let down her guard. Just when things were getting…interesting.
She still had his face framed in her hands. “Your coat’s ringing.”
“Yeah.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and moved from beneath her. “Hold that thought.”
He hurried to the door, pulled his cell phone from his coat and punched the connect button. “This is Josh.”
A.J.’s softly accented voice was laced with laughter. “Busy?”
“In the best way.” Josh glanced across the room at Rachel, a look of rare contentment relaxing her expression as she leaned back against the pillows and picked up a book for expecting mothers she’d been reading. He wanted to see her like that every day of his life, secure and happy.
But he had to take care of business first. He had to do his job as a cop before he could do his job as a man and make her see that they belonged together.
“What do you have for me?” he prompted, feeling suddenly eager to get business taken care of.
“Almost every name on that list has some kind of record. Not a lot of convictions, but the names keep popping up on the computer—possession, possession with intent to distribute, you name it.”
Josh turned the phone away from Rachel. “What about Norwood? Is he clean?”
“Spotless. If he knows what these kids are doing, there’s nothing to prove it here.”
Damn. Maybe it was just jealousy that had him thinking Norwood was up to no good. Rachel kept talking about their being old friends. Norwood was Rachel’s age. And he was interested in her. Even if the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“What’s our next step, then? A search order for the clinic? They easily could have converted one of their laboratories into a meth lab. No one would question the chemicals being shipped in—fertilizer for the grounds, formaldehyde as a preservative…”
He could hear A.J. up and moving already.
“I’ll write up the order. Too many suspects are ending up with a connection to the clinic. I’m sure the judge will go for it.”
Josh felt a familiar anticipation. Like that old TV show where someone lit a fuse in the opening credits. The beat of the music crescendoed as the team of agents in the show closed in on their man. Then, boom! The show was over, the bad guys were caught and the good guys drove off into the sunset.
He wanted the boom.
They were closing in on the source of the campus meth ring. And though it was only one drug ring and one group of kids he’d be saving, he was finally making a difference. It was payback time for the tragic loss of Billy Matthews and so many other victims of the drug trade.
“You want to tell Cutler, or should I?” A.J. laughed. “You’re his golden boy, Josh. I’ll let you have the glory.”
“Your time will come, Rodriguez, and Cutler will be breathing down your neck, too.”
“In the meantime I can watch you suffer.”
“Right.” He looked over at Rachel, hating that he had to leave her again so soon. He’d better make this quick so he could get back to her. He had a whole lot of things he needed to say, a whole lot of future he needed her to believe in. “I’ll meet with Cutler, then, and set up the raid. You get the judge’s order.”
“Done. Watch your back.”
Josh smiled, appreciating the routine of his newfound friendship. “Always.”
He disconnected the call an
d reached into his coat for another item. He flipped open the badge, taking a moment to reflect on the star and the number and everything it meant to him. Then he stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out his gun.
As always, he checked the safety, checked the magazine and secured the gun in the holster. Then he slipped his arms into the holster and pulled the black leather strap across his shoulders.
“Where are you going that you need to strap on a gun?”
He turned at the sound of Rachel’s husky voice and crossed the room. After making sure the gun rested comfortably in reach of his shooting hand, he took the book from Rachel’s lap and set it on the coffee table. “When I’m not undercover, I wear it to work every day.”
“Sounds like a grown-up job.”
“Doc.” He took her hands and pulled her up beside him. “There are a lot of things—” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close. Surprised, though heartened, by Rachel’s initiation of more intimate contact, he gladly settled his arms around her and held her. “It’s okay, Doc. This is what I do. It’s what I’m trained for. It’s what I’ve lived and breathed for as long as I can remember—wanting to be a cop, like my cousin and my older brothers. I’ll be okay.”
“This is hard for me.” Her sweet lips brushed against his neck in an unintended caress. “I know you’re a grown man and not some kid. But it’s hard for me to…”
He tightened his hold on her, offering her his support to continue.
“It’s hard to let myself think of you as my equal. Because that means a real relationship could happen here.”
He kissed her hair, his concern turning to hope. “I wouldn’t mind.”
She brought her hands down to his chest and began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. “It also means investing my heart in something that might not last.”
Josh wrapped his hands around hers and stilled the nervous fluttering of her fingers. “Because of my job?”
“No. I mean, I worry because of the danger, but—”
Josh’s heavy sigh filled the room. He didn’t want to hear this. So he said it himself. “But because I’m nine years younger than you?”