The Lawman

by Martha Shields

  “Us?”

  Her disbelief clearly showed that she’d never thought about the two of them as “us.” Neither had he, until this very moment. But it felt right. “Maybe we have good feng shui.”

  She quickly looked away. “Now that you mention it, I thought I saw a turtle in that picture on the north wall. Tortoises are very stabilizing influences, you know. Especially on the north…” She trailed away and cleared her throat. “Didn’t you say something about getting back to the hospital? We do have a press conference at four, remember.”

  He smiled and picked up the check Trudy had left at the corner of the table. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t ready to face the truth. “Ready anytime you are, kitten.”

  Tabitha shushed him as she stood. “I’m not your kitten.”

  He walked behind her to the cashier stand.

  No, she wasn’t his kitten. She wasn’t a stray that needed rescuing. If he didn’t keep that in mind, he’d find himself stuck in Mission Creek in ten years with a whole litter of them.

  Although…

  Somewhere along the line, cats had begun to grow on him.

  Twelve

  The press had been briefed on Hines’s call, so all Tabitha had to do at the press conference was read a brief, simple statement, then handle routine questions. She breezed through the statement. However, when Officer Hammel played the tape for the media, the same chills washed over Tabitha that had seized her when Hines first called. With them came the same doubts.

  She tried to push them away. She needed every ounce of confidence to deal with reporters groping for any angle.

  But what if she did something wrong, said something she shouldn’t? What if Hines spotted a police officer around her or the hospital? There were so many things that could go wrong, and she had so little experience.

  You can’t do anything right.

  Her father’s voice drowned out the question the female TV news reporter was asking.

  Tabitha shook her ghost away. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

  The beautiful redhead rolled her eyes. “Have there been any more leads as to Branson Hines’s whereabouts?”

  Tabitha glanced at Jake, turning the microphone over to him for the first time during the press conference.

  He stepped forward. “The Mission Creek Police Department is working around the clock on that. We’ll let you know when something develops.”

  Clamor followed, and Jake stood back. He always let Tabitha control the flow of the press conferences, though so far, he’d been the one to end them.

  Tabitha pointed to a distinguished man behind the redhead.

  “What are the chances that you’ll find the hostages alive?”

  Tabitha controlled a shiver, but just barely. “What do you mean by chances? Do you want a percentage? How can I give you that? I don’t know Branson Hines as well as you people do, with all the research you’ve done.”

  “Surely the police have done research on him,” another male reporter shouted from her left side.

  “We probably know more about the man than you,” Jake assured them, “but I’m still not going to call that shot. Too many variables. As Miss Monroe said in her statement, however, we’re optimistic. Hines’s call shows that he’s willing to talk.”

  “How do you figure that?” a reporter asked.

  “Yeah, he wouldn’t let her talk,” another said.

  Jake shrugged. “It’s a classic first step. Hines is playing it smart. Playing by the rules. As long as he does, we will, too.”

  Noticing that her hands were shaking, Tabitha angled herself so her back was hidden, then clenched them behind it. She was more than willing to let Jake have the spotlight. He was keeping to the script, giving Branson Hines as many strokes as possible, encouraging him to call again and negotiate.

  The next question, however, was for her.

  “What about the other hospital employees? How are they taking the kidnapping?”

  Tabitha took a deep breath, then plastering a smile on her face, she stepped up to the podium when Jake moved back. “I’m surprised you haven’t interviewed them all by now.”

  There was a bit of laughter, then a shout, “We have, but they’re not talking. You scare them off us or something?”

  “You scare them just fine on your own,” she said, drawing another tittering laugh. “The hospital employees were asked to let the media get its information through me. However,” she said over shouted questions, “they were not threatened with losing their jobs or anything punitive. They’re simply loyal, and I appreciate each and every one of them.”

  A reporter she’d been avoiding pointing to because of the hostility in his eyes shouted over the others. “How can we assure the American public that you’re doing everything you can, when you’ve never handled a kidnapping before? How do you know that you’re doing anything right?”

  You can’t do anything right.

  Tabitha’s face suddenly felt cold as the blood drained away. She gripped the sides of the podium and forced air into her lungs so she could speak. “How can anyone know that what they’re doing is right in this kind of situation?”

  Jake gripped her elbow and gently urged her aside. Keeping his hand on her, he spoke into the microphone. “That’s all for today, folks. Unless something happens, we’ll have another press conference at ten tomorrow morning. And remember the riot act I read you this morning. No phone calls to Miss Monroe’s home or office, and I’d rather you didn’t hang around her house. She’s not going to give you any statements, either way. Good night. Pray for the hostages.

  “Wait right here,” Jake said in her ear. “I need to speak to Chief Terry.”

  She stayed exactly where he left her, trying to regain her equilibrium. What was wrong with her? She thought she’d put her father’s ghost away a long time ago. Why had he come back? Was it because she was dealing directly with police for the first time since she’d left home?

  Jake shook Burl Terry’s hand, then placed his hand on the small of her back and nodded toward the steps. “Let’s wade through the sharks.”

  He speared them through the crowd of reporters as efficiently as he always did. There were only two uniformed police officers in the hall, where this morning it had been lined with uniforms. But Tabitha knew some of the men hanging around were also officers in street clothes. Jake had the changes in place an hour after Hines had called that afternoon.

  He nodded to several men as he guided her to the elevator, but didn’t say anything to her until the door slid closed on them, alone.

  “What was that back there?”

  “What was what?” she asked, automatically covering her surprise at his question.

  Had he noticed her distress on the podium? Was that why he ended the press conference so abruptly?

  His eyes narrowed. “You turned white as a ghost when that reporter asked if we were doing everything right.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Don’t try to tell me it was nothing. You were shaking when we stepped down from the podium. Hell, you’re shaking now.”

  “I—”

  The elevator door opened. Grateful to it for saving her, she walked out.

  At the door to her office, Jake stopped. “I need to check on my men.”

  While they’d gone to lunch, his men had moved the command center to an empty office two doors down the hall, where they would be less visible.

  “All right.” Tabitha was even more relieved. She’d have time alone to get over her surprise, get over her fears, boost her self-confidence.

  She went into her office and sank into her chair. She closed her eyes and let the familiar sounds soothe her psyche. She hated knowing Jake saw her lapse, hated him seeing her vulnerability. How would he use it?

  “You okay?”

  Her eyes sprang open. Jake stood in the doorway.

  She straightened. “Yes, of course.”

  He shook his head and closed the door. “Lean back a
nd relax.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “Easy to say.”

  He came around the desk, behind her chair, then put his hands on her shoulders. “Lean back.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you relax.” And he began to knead her tight muscles.

  As Jake massaged her shoulders, Tabitha slowly sank into his strong hands. When his thumbs hit the tendons on the back of her neck, she couldn’t stop a moan of pleasure.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “Mmm. You’re pretty good at this, you know.”

  “So I hear.”

  “From whom? How often do you do this?” She recognized the feeling that made her stiffen—jealousy. Jeez. She was in deeper than she thought.

  “This is my second time.”

  “You mean yesterday?”

  “Mmm, hmm.” He massaged harder, so she had to relax again in self-defense. “As for who I heard it from… Ooh. Ahh. Oh, yes. Right there. Yes!”

  His silly mimicking of the sounds she’d been making made her giggle. “You make it sound like I’m having sex.”

  “Is that what you sound like, kitten?” he asked softly, close to her ear. “Are those the noises you make?”

  Sex had never made her feel half this good. But if Jake could make her moan with just a massage… The possibilities ran through her mind. She shivered deliciously and relaxed even more.

  He straightened and continued kneading her tension away. “You should do that more often.”

  Her eyes popped open. Could he read her mind? “Do what?”

  “Giggle.”

  “I didn’t giggle.” She couldn’t remember ever giggling. Giggling was caused by silly fun, and she was neither silly nor fun. “Did I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, imagine that.”

  She sighed with pleasure as his thumb dug into the base of her skull.

  “Tell me about it, kitten.” His voice was deep, low. “Tell me why you freaked downstairs.”

  Tabitha frowned. She should have known the massage wasn’t free. “I didn’t freak.”

  “Then tell me why you never giggle.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. No one had ever noticed that, including herself.

  Why did Jake notice? People generally noticed things a person did, not things they didn’t do. But more importantly, why did he care?

  He couldn’t know about her father? Could he?

  Of course he could. She’d witnessed the thoroughness with which he gathered information about people who seemed insignificant to the kidnapping, like the hospital employees they’d interviewed. She’d been amazed at the details he’d known. It only made sense that he would have done a background check on her, too.

  Dread ran through her like poison. “Do you know about my father?”

  His hands stopped kneading her shoulders, then he slowly turned her chair so she faced him. Placing a hand on either arm of the chair, he squatted in front of her. “I know how he died, and why. That’s about it.”

  She searched his earnest, interested face. “How did you find out?”

  “I have my ways.”

  “The police network.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Yes. I remember.”

  He shrugged. “Every profession has its networks. I’ll bet you know other hospital administrators all over the state, if not the country.”

  Her chin lifted slightly, but she didn’t acknowledge the truth in his words. “Why did you find out?” she asked.

  “I wanted to know why you hate cops so much. At first, it was because I needed to know if that was going to get in the way of our relationship.”

  “What rela—”

  “Our professional relationship. I needed to know if your attitude was going to hamper the situation in any way.”

  “I would never let my feelings get in the way of my employees’ safety.”

  He took her hands in his, holding on when she would have pulled them away. “I know that now. I didn’t then.”

  She studied his face. “And now?”

  “Now?”

  “You said at first that was the reason. What is it now?”

  He twined his fingers with hers. “Now I want to know because I care about you.”

  “Care.” She liked the sound of that, but didn’t like that she liked it. “What does that mean?”

  He shook his head helplessly and shrugged. “All I know that it means is I want to understand you, and that means knowing about your father.”

  Obviously he was as confused as she was about the attraction between them. He cared. She cared, too. Was it love? Could fate be cruel enough to make her fall in love with a cop?

  “I told you about my parents,” he said. “It’s your turn. You need to. It helps to share.”

  Tabitha swallowed the lump of emotion blocking her throat. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “That’s because you’re not sure if I really want to know. I do.” He shifted, placing a knee on the floor. “You’re not sure if I’ll use it against you. I won’t.”

  Tabitha was afraid of more than the reasons behind his curiosity. She was afraid of how much she wanted to tell him.

  How would he react? He would be horrified, no doubt. Everyone was, in these kinds of situations. He would be defensive of her, for her, but then he would look at her differently.

  Scott had. That was when their relationship had deteriorated. Not quite the same relationship she’d had with her father, but abusive all the same. That was when Scott had begun to loosen the full rein of his kinky passions. It was as if Scott had decided after she told him that she wasn’t worthy of his love.

  Jake might feel the same way.

  Tabitha drew her hands from his. On the other hand, if he was like Scott, it would be better to know now, before she got in too deep.

  She ignored the voice inside that said it was already too late, that she was in scalding hot water way over her head. “Well, then, you’d better get comfortable, because it’s a long story.”

  He squeezed her knees since he no longer had her hands. “I’m okay.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t be, like that. Go sit in a chair.”

  He stood and grabbed one of her hands. “Come on, then.”

  “Where?” If she was going to do this, she needed to sit here in her own chair, where she was comfortable, where she was safely untouched.

  “The couch.”

  She glanced at it, mostly as an excuse to look away. “Why?”

  “So I can hold you.”

  There was that lump in her throat again. “Why?”

  He grabbed her other hand and pulled her to her feet. Since he didn’t step back, she landed smack against his hard chest. “Because I want to.”

  She tried to swallow the lump. It didn’t go away. “Oh.”

  “Because I wanted to hold on to you when I talked about my parents.”

  She’d wanted to, too. “We were in public.”

  “I know. But that didn’t stop me from wanting you to.”

  Tabitha squeezed her eyes closed tight, then with a sigh of resignation, she slipped past him and led the way to the couch. She sat on one end.

  He sat in the middle, close enough to touch her but far enough away to see her face easily. “Okay. I know he abused prisoners. And I know that officers who are abusive at work can be abusive at home, as well.”

  He did know. Somehow, that made it even harder.

  “I…my father…we were…” She shrugged. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “How about the beginning?”

  “Don’t you need to check on your men or something?”

  “I just did. They’ll tell me if something happens.”

  “I don’t want to bore you.”

  He eased closer and took one of her hands. “Tabitha, this isn’t as hard as you think it’s going to be.”

  For some stupid reason, her eyes filled with tears. “I
’ve only told one person ever, and he…”

  “He what?”

  “I guess he just didn’t care.”

  Jake’s other hand cupped her chin, his thumb tenderly rubbing her cheek. “I care. Please tell me.”

  She sighed raggedly. “I guess it started when my mother died.”

  He released her chin. “When was that?”

  “She died when I was born.”

  He winced. “You never knew your mother?”

  “No. But the only relevance that has to the situation is that my father blamed me for her death. He loved her very much, you see. Or said he did. I can’t imagine him—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re not going to have any never minds.”

  “I just…” She’d never said these words out loud. She took a deep breath and hurried through them. “I’ve wondered if he was as abusive with her as he was with me. I’ve wondered if she wanted to die.”

  Jake felt as if he were being torn in two. He’d never felt so much hate in his life. And he’d never felt so much love.

  He knew in that moment—with crystal clarity—that he loved Tabitha. He didn’t know what that meant exactly, or where it would lead either of them. Right now all he could deal with was her pain. He could feel it as surely as if Albert Monroe had struck him.

  He gathered her into his arms, fitting her close against his body. Because she didn’t resist, because she wrapped her arms around him, he placed a kiss on her soft blond hair. “When did it start?”

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I can’t remember a time when he didn’t hit me. The only reason I survived when I was a baby is because I lived with his sister until I was four. Aunt Lizzie had three children of her own when she took me in, and then four more after. My father dumped me on her doorstep when he brought me home from the hospital, then took me to live with him when I was four.”

  “Why didn’t he just leave you with your aunt?”

  “Because I was old enough to work around the house.”

  “At four?” Jake cursed under his breath. “And did you?”

  “Of course. I’d been trained well by Aunt Lizzie. She…”