Dangerous To Love

by Chevon Gael

  "I made a promise..."

  "Screw the promise."

  "This isn't your fight. You can't protect her."

  "Protect her from what?” Brett was losing his patience. He was tired of playing this game. He was a man of action, not games. Nothing was falling into place, or ever would if he let Tara go now. Quickly, his mind went over the pieces. A secretive, convoluted escape from Chicago, a baby hidden for whatever reason and a Patrick “somebody” in the background. Suddenly the lights flashed on.

  "Fuck me,” he murmured. “It's not a what, it's a who, isn't it? She's running from someone, someone who might hurt her because of the kid.” He waited for Carter to reply.

  The man shifted his weight and leaned heavily on his good leg. Brett saw him swallow and knew he'd hit a soft spot. But what was it? A custody battle? Would he find the kid's picture on the Illinois State missing children's web site? But there was something more. Brett could feel it. His instincts were usually right.

  "She has custody of Rose,” Carter began, “the baby has no part in this. We're her guardians in case anything happens to Tara."

  "What could happen to Tara?"

  "It's enough that she's been through some pretty bad times already. I'm asking ... no, I'm begging you to give her a break and let her do what she came up here to do."

  "And that would be?"

  "I want you to give her ten days before you do your fed thing."

  Brett leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. The mystery of Tara was quickly becoming wrapped in an enigma. He had a feeling if he tried to untie the knot, he'd only find another riddle. “Let me get this straight. You want me to dismiss a criminal charge..."

  "Misplace,” suggested Carter.

  "Okay, misplace my charge for a week..."

  "Ten days."

  "Whatever. And you won't tell me why."

  Carter shrugged. “Sounds bad."

  "Looks worse. Is this worth risking your pension?"

  "Is it worth risking her life?"

  "But if it's that bad, why can't she go to the authorities for help?"

  "No! You don't understand and I promised not to break her trust. I tried to help the old fashioned way—with undercover, with surveillance, with a safe house. I got a bullet in my knee for my efforts. It's not Tara's fault. It's the creep she was married to."

  Married? Tara Morgan was married?

  "'Was’ being the operative word?"

  Carter nodded and continued. “But it's over now. It's been over for years, at least as far as Tara's concerned."

  "But not the ex, I take it. So why doesn't she get a restraining order?"

  "You don't get a restraining order for Roman DeMarco."

  Brett tried to prevent his face from registering real shock over the name Roman DeMarco, a man synonymous with the word “mobster.” He couldn't help the low whistle that escaped his lips. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts for the next question.

  "How long has this been going on?"

  "She married DeMarco when she was eighteen. The marriage lasted six years, off and on. Mostly off. He ... hurt her. Badly."

  "Carter?” Tara's urgent voice sounded outside the men's room door.

  "Yeah, hon. We're just having a little talk. Nothing to worry about."

  "No, I'm going to the van for the diaper bag. She had an accident and I need to change her."

  "Okay, we'll be out in a minute. Don't take too long. We should hit the road soon.” He waited until he heard Tara's footsteps fade away.

  "Let me take her on to Winnipeg,” Brett said. “I want some time with her."

  "Time for what?” Carter stood himself as erect as he could and clutched the handle of his cane.

  "I want...” He nearly said need. “I'd like her to trust me.” Carter might be family and probably did love her like his own. But if DeMarco came across the border, then it would take more than a crippled ex-cop and a runaway panty poster girl to catch a ranking Mafia cappo. Of course, if he did come across the border, then it would be within Brett's jurisdiction to take him down. The thought of being able to put the brains and the money behind a cross-border drugs and liquor smuggling operation out of business made Brett's mouth water. It was the kind of thing he lived for. It was why he became a Mountie. Another bad guy off the streets and Tara and her daughter safe at last. The only thing stopping him was Carter's fatherly influence. But how to get Carter out of the picture, even temporarily, without sounding like an ogre was going to be nearly impossible. Brett knew what he had to say and he hated himself for it. With no choice around the matter, he played his hand.

  "I've already made the CPIC inquiry. The wheels are in motion. All that's left is to take her in and do the paperwork. Too bad,” he frowned and shook his head. “I'd hate to see her pretty behind deported, especially when it's obvious she hasn't seen her kid in a while.” Brett waited for Carter's reaction.

  Carter eyed him and clutched the handle of his cane. Brett eased his T-shirt up over the waistband of his jeans so the man could see the small fanny pack containing his gun.

  Finally Carter spoke. His voice was sad and full of longing. “I forgot they let you carry out of uniform. Smith and Wesson or Glock?"

  "Smith and Wesson nine mil.” Brett pulled the weapon out halfway. It was fully loaded with the safety on.

  Carter gave a low whistle of appreciation. “It's a real beaut."

  "Come down to the range sometime,” Brett offered.

  Carter nodded. An unspoken truce had been formed. “Okay,” Carter began. “The not-so-stupid person's short version. Kerry is Tara's daughter. We're raising her, for now. It's safer this way. If Tara wants, she can tell you the rest. I'll let you have some time, but only because right now you can boot her out of the country if you so choose. You have all the power."

  Brett would like to have agreed. But there were still things in this story that didn't add up. The baby for instance. According to Denny's info, she was approaching her third birthday. But Carter said DeMarco had been out of the picture for six years. Was the mysterious Patrick the child's father? Carter wasn't volunteering any answers. Right now it seemed that Tara had all the power.

  "Just tell me the true lies. Are Tara and Rachel opening a ... an undies shop?"

  Carter sighed. “Yes, they are. At least, I hope they still are after this week. Tara's very good at what she does. Rachel needs the break. Having a cripple around the house isn't great fun for her."

  "So why not go back part time, to admin?"

  Carter snorted. “From field ops to a desk job? Why don't you just shoot me in the other knee? I'm-I'm working on something. Rehab suggested some computer work. I'm trying to like it."

  Brett held out his hand. “Good luck, my friend."

  Carter shook his hand. “Luck is what Tara needs. She's got an appointment with a judge in Winnipeg for nine o'clock Monday morning. Make sure she keeps it or I'll demonstrate that this bum leg hasn't affected my aim. And Big Mike ... well, the prairies are big and flat. Like the desert outside of Vegas."

  The obvious warning didn't bother Brett. It was the question of why Tara needed a judge. Carter started to hobble out of the men's room. Brett couldn't let the man go without an answer.

  "Wait a minute.” He brushed past Carter and blocked the man's exit. He decided to play his last and only ace in the hole. It was now or never. “I gotta know. Is-is Tara ... doing something to stay in the country? Like getting married? To-to Patrick?"

  Carter's mouth began to twitch. What had been a stony glare a moment ago threatened to turn into a genuine smile. Carter looked at him with the experienced eyes of a man who might have once asked the same question. “I thought all that federal bluster was nothing but bullshit. So, you're not the bastard I took you for just now. I should let you twist in the wind, fed, for threatening to send her back. But I won't, because I've been in your shoes. You paid the man, you take this ride by yourself. All I can say is you better hang on, because when you
finish, your brains are going to be rattled and your balls are gonna be up around your ears, boy. And you just might like it."

  With that, he pushed by Brett in time to see Tara exit the ladies room. A placated Kerry was nearly asleep in her arms. Brett looked at mother and daughter. Carter was right about one thing. Whatever happened between now and Monday, it was going to be one hell of a ride.

  CHAPTER 6

  "But why can't I go with you right now?” Tara sobbed as Carter held her.

  "I'm sorry, kid. The fed is on to us, sort of. We've got to do things his way for a couple of days. But we'll be in court Monday and if all goes well, we'll see Patrick in a week.” At the mention of Patrick's name, Tara cried harder. “Don't worry, Tara. You've been careful and patient and we've planned every move down to the wire. We've waited a long time for this. It's only one more week. You've got to hang in there."

  "But, what if-if..."

  Carter gave her a reassuring squeeze. “No buts. Hey, pity me. I've got to face going home to Rachel without you."

  Tara tried to laugh, for Carter's sake, but could only manage a hiccupping sob. Carter handed her a tissue and let her say good-bye to Kerry who was already bundled into her car seat. A moment later, Carter gently led her away from the child and closed the door.

  "Go inside and wash your face,” he instructed. “Don't worry, I'll deal with the fed.” She stumbled toward the door and heard him call after her, “Brave face."

  "I'm sorry about that."

  Carter turned at the sound of Brett's voice. “I'd like to kick the shit out of you. I still might try. For now, you can get the hell out of my way. We're leaving."

  "Just a minute.” Brett held up something to Carter.

  Carter's expression changed from contempt to surprise. “A Comfort Bear? I'll be damned. You're almost human."

  "For Kerry,” he explained. “May I?” Carter nodded and Brett went to the open window of the van where the little girl sat sullenly sucking her thumb. Brett crouched down so that he was hidden from Kerry's view and held the bear up to the window.

  "I'm Buster the Bear and I want to be your friend,” he squeaked.

  Kerry stared at the plush toy then tentatively touched a satin-covered paw.

  "Go ahead, sweety” Carter urged gently. “It's for you."

  "Bear.” She gave a minuscule tug in an attempt to wrest it from Brett's grasp. “Talk!” she begged. “Talk!"

  Brett turned his head and looked up at Carter in question.

  "You don't spend a lot of time around kids, do you bud? It's a game now. You have to talk to her. Make the bear talk."

  Brett mouthed an understanding “oh.” Well, he wanted to make friends with the kid and now he had the means. And it wasn't like he was trying to score points with Tara. The little tyke was easy on the eyes, like her mother. The same hair, those identical luminous multi-colored eyes. When Kerry laughed, it gave Brett an idea of how Tara might have been once, innocent and unburdened. He wondered what it would take to see Tara laugh like that. He could start with Kerry.

  "Buster likes you, Kerry. I want to go home with you. Do you like me?"

  "No, Constable Brett, I think you're an asshole."

  "Tara!” Brett jumped up so fast he forgot to avoid the side mirror. “Geez, that hurt!” He dropped the bear into Kerry's lap, side-stepped the van, rubbed his head and swore.

  "Tut, tut, Constable. Hardly the language of a role model.” Tara stared him down, her fists parked on her hips in support of her angry stance.

  "My bear,” whispered Kerry, finally hugging her plush prize.

  Tara barely managed to keep a slim grip on her temper. She was sorely tempted to ask Carter to shoot Brett, but Carter was intent on examining his bent mirror. “I hope my insurance covers that."

  Tara was about to remind her brother-in-law of his priorities when she noticed the smirk on his face and the wink that passed between the men. Clearly, the testosterone outnumbered the estrogen. She was in no mood to spar with either of them.

  "Shut up, Carter,” she snapped. “And you...” She grabbed Brett by his shirtsleeve with a grip that would have impressed Mel-From-Hell and shoved him toward his car. “You can believe this is longest damn trip you're ever going to make."

  * * * *

  Tara sat in Brett's car, watching the van pull out of the parking lot. It was all she could do to keep from running behind it and yelling for Carter to stop. She stared after it until all trace of it disappeared down the flat ribbon of highway. The van had taken her hope and her heart with it. It wasn't fair! She had barely enough time for Kerry to realize who she was before they were separated again. She was busy staring down at her purple sweater, which still held the mustard remains of Kerry's lunch. Already her shorts were drying where the child sat on her lap and became so excited that she wet herself. She knew she should change, but she didn't have the desire to give up the only connection she'd had with her daughter in nearly a year. She was vaguely aware of the driver's door opening. The obvious creak of leather and shift of weight signaled that Brett now sat beside her.

  She sighed deeply and gave a loud sniff.

  "I'm sorry,” he whispered.

  He moved closer. Tara felt the heat of his body next to her. She closed her eyes, willing him to disappear. Instead his warm fingers brushed her curtain of hair away from her face. She opened her eye just the tiniest sliver and saw that his other arm had settled behind her. A strange yet familiar scent assailed her senses. She recognized the scent as the same one that clung to the plain blue cotton sheets of his bed. It wasn't anything fashionable she could pin down. No designer fragrance or strong after-scent of shower soap. It was just ... him.

  "C'mere.” A low, soothing voice issued an order and she obeyed. The stress and exhaustion of the past few weeks left her weak and unwilling to do otherwise.

  She sank into the warm embrace that surrounded her. There was a light pressure on the top of her head. Her stomach fluttered as she realized he had kissed her, the kind of gentle nuzzling kiss that signaled more than comfort.

  And they were so close! Her back resting against his chest, his arms around her, holding her, his hands lightly stroking her bare arms. For the first time in what seemed like years she felt safe, secure. If only she were free to enjoy this, to enjoy him. For one moment she selfishly wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

  As if to answer her, his lips moved from her head to her left ear. The sensation sent tiny shivers through her. What would happen if she turned her head and her lips met his? Could she afford the momentary luxury of enjoying a kiss? There was a second of hesitation before she felt the slight pressure of his finger under her chin, tilting her face toward him, guiding her mouth closer to his. She tasted the flavor of his breath, warm and minty, the slight pressure of his lips as they brushed hers. It was enough.

  She kissed him back, catching his lower lip as he started to turn away. She lifted her gaze to find surprise etched on his face. Surprise tempered with longing, anxious with desire. She was taken by a sudden urge to hold him. She shifted in her seat so her arms could find their mark He responded by pressing her body against his. A small moan escaped his lips as Tara found her breasts gently crushed against him.

  He was kissing her again. Deeply. His soft lips begged her for the tenderest mercy. She opened her mouth to grant him access, greedily accepting his invading tongue. She had coveted that sensual mouth last night. Now it was hers. His strong hands roamed leisurely across her back and through her hair.

  She moaned in protest when he lifted his mouth from hers. “I want to touch you,” he whispered. “Everywhere..."

  He nuzzled her ears through her hair. “Especially, your hair. It's like liquid fire."

  Tara could only draw a ragged breath. Liquid fire was what he'd reduced her insides to. Her answer was to pull him closer.

  He kissed her more possessively now, his hands sweeping around to caress her bottom through the denim barrier of her shorts. Then his wa
rm, rough fingers slid along her bare legs.

  "You're just like I thought you would be,” he murmured. “Like warm, golden silk. You don't know how much I wanted to climb into that back seat with you last night. Have you ever had a man in the back seat, Tara?"

  Mutely, she shook her head. She knew instinctively what the next question would be. And worse, she knew how she would answer.

  As if to stave off the inevitable, she kissed him again. This time it was her arms pressing him close. Her hands that wandered over the muscular bumps and bulges of his back and shoulders. Her curious fingers began to wander down the back of his T-shirt on a dangerous collision course with the temptation he'd so unwittingly displayed this morning.

  She was aware that they were sharing a mutual need, a dual hunger that longed to be satisfied. Her soul embraced the idea of discovering desire again, to be wanted as a woman and to be with a man for no other reason than she wanted to. Oh, yes! She wanted this one. In the back seat, in the front seat. On top of the bar in Molly's, if she thought they could get away with it. If only she were free to love. It could be pure heaven. If only...

  A sliver of panic hedged its way into her heaven. A voice from hell rose to haunt her.

  If I ever catch you with another man, I'll kill you both.

  An ugly memory long buried clawed its way to the surface. A knock on the door, Rachel's anguished cry, the chaplain holding her shaking body. The flashing blue and red lights whisking her away in the middle of the night. Carter's pale face in the hospital bed. Rachel keeping the vigil that haunts every policeman's wife.

  Then, what followed the afternoon Rachel left her alone to go to the hospital. The day Roman returned and took his vengeance. He made it clear that anyone else who tried to help her would pay the same price as Carter. No! Her mind screamed out against the possibility. She couldn't let that happen again. Not to this man.

  With a strangled cry of protest, she pushed Brett away.

  "Let me go,” she begged. “Now, before it's too late."

  She dared to look into his face. She saw confusion in his expression and questions in his eyes. She also saw desire. Somehow, his next words didn't surprise her.