O'Halloran's Lady

by Fiona Brand

  The decision to refocus settled in, filling him with a tension that had nothing to do with the investigation and everything to do with Jenna and a past that still tugged at him.

  Nine years ago Jenna had attracted, tantalised and frustrated him. When he had found out that she had been an army brat and that she had grown up on military bases here and overseas, she had fallen into context. The ease with which she’d walked away from him when he’d been certain she had wanted him had suddenly made sense. She was used to moving from base to base and never putting roots down. She was used to saying goodbye, and flat out “no.” After she had lost a father then a fiancé, she was used to losing, period.

  Digging his keys out of his pocket, he strolled toward his truck, which was parked at one end of the lot, out of sight from the main part of the cemetery.

  Broodingly he went back over the few minutes he had spent with Jenna. She had been wearing leggings that clung to her slender legs, a hoodie and sneakers, as if she were on her way to the gym.

  The clothing was sleek and mouth-wateringly sexy. Like the car she drove, it underlined the changes that had taken place in Jenna’s life. Always intriguingly quiet and self-contained, she was now confident and successful, with a sophistication that packed a double punch.

  Marc stopped dead as the extent of the attraction humming through him registered.

  Damn, he thought mildly. That was something he was going to have to keep a lid on. He couldn’t work effectively if he couldn’t keep his mind on the job.

  Maybe it had been the book he had read last night, and the steamy sex scene, which had shunted him back to the past. Maybe it was just that he was tired of being solitary and alone and his libido was doing the talking.

  Whatever was to blame, like it or not, he wanted Jenna Whitmore and, to complicate matters, he was pretty certain she wanted him. He had to consider the likelihood that they would end up in bed, sooner or later.

  But first, he had a killer to catch.

  Chapter 4

  Electrified by the unexpected meeting with O’Halloran, and the taut awareness that seemed to have settled into her bones, Jenna drove to the gym for her usual midafternoon workout. An hour’s circuit of exercise machines and weights followed by a shower and she felt physically relaxed. Although the exercise had failed to dislodge the edgy knowledge that kept making her pulse shoot out of control: that, incredibly, despite O’Halloran’s low-key manner and cool control, he had been just as aware of her as she had been of him.

  When she had finished, Jenna retrieved her bag from her locker, showered, changed and headed for her car.

  As she stepped out from beneath the awning that protected the front entrance, her mind still dazedly, sappily fixed on the minutes she’d spent talking to O’Halloran, a scraping sound jerked her head up. She jumped out of the way just as a pot plant came hurtling down from the terrace of one of the apartments over the gymnasium, exploding in a shower of potting mix and terracotta shards on the sidewalk.

  One of the trainers, Amanda, a sleek blonde with a lean, toned body, rushed out from the gym. She stared at the splattered remains of what had once been a pretty, trailing geranium. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Jenna brushed soil off one of her shoes. “I’m fine. It missed me by a couple of feet.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I don’t know how it could have fallen. I rent one of those apartments and there’s a three-foot wall running along each terrace. The only way anything could fall down was if someone was silly enough to balance a plant on top of the wall.”

  Stomach tight, chills still running down her spine, Jenna stepped out from the shade into the warmth of the afternoon sunlight and peered upward. If there had been anyone on one of the several terraces directly above her, they were long gone now.

  If she had been just a half second faster the pot would have hit her. “Looks like someone was silly enough.”

  Amanda nudged a terracotta shard with her foot. “What a mess. I’ll have a word with Helen. She’ll make sure that whoever owns the pot plant knows what happened.” She frowned. “You look white as a sheet. You should come inside and sit down, maybe have something to drink.”

  Jenna backed away, more interested in scanning the apartments above than being soothed, but with the afternoon sun slanting across the windows they looked featureless. At a guess, most of the apartments were empty, since it wasn’t quite five. The occupants would still be at work. “No, really, I’m fine and I need to get home.” Aiming a blank smile in Amanda’s direction, she walked quickly to the car and fumbled the key in the lock.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror as she drove to the mall closest to her suburb, she noticed a black Audi following just a little too closely. A small unpleasant jolt almost made her miss the turn.

  It was the same type of car that had nearly run her over the previous night. The same car her villain had driven in her latest book.

  When the Audi didn’t follow her into the parking lot, but instead merged with traffic flowing into the inner city, she let out a shaky breath. The Audi had to be an unnerving coincidence. In a city as large as Auckland, who knew how many of them were zapping around.

  She found a space and parked then sat for long moments until her pulse rate returned to normal. She was still unsettled from running into O’Halloran, and on edge in a skittish, feminine way that was utterly at odds with her usual calm control. She was also stressed from the near miss with the pot plant.

  When she realized that she was also unconsciously watching the entrance to the parking lot, waiting for the Audi to cruise in, she grabbed her handbag and exited the car.

  Paranoia wasn’t her favourite state of mind, and she’d already had enough of it in the past twenty-four hours to last her a lifetime.

  Looping the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, she strolled into the mall, her stride almost back to her normal, fluid speed now that the workout had loosened up her knee.

  Her first port of call was the information kiosk on the ground floor. She asked if Mathews was in and supplied her name. Minutes later, Mathews stepped out of a nearby door.

  The conversation was short and to the point. O’Halloran had already called in and they had gone through the security tapes. Mathews handed her a blurred black-and-white print of the parking lot, capturing the Audi close in against the mall building itself. “That’s the clearest shot of the car and the plate. Unfortunately, the quality of the cameras isn’t great, and the mist further reduced visibility.” He shrugged. “A couple of the letters of the plate are visible.”

  Jenna thanked Mathews and stowed the print in her bag, her pulse once more racing, because O’Halloran had come to check on the tapes, proving that he had been serious about helping her. Apparently she had just missed him.

  Following her usual track, she called at a number of specialty stores and bought a baked cheesecake to take around to her aunt’s for dinner that evening along with a fresh fruit salad and organic yoghurt.

  The drive home was uneventful until she took a motorway off ramp and the black Audi cruised up close behind her again.

  A horn blared, jerking her gaze back to the road and alerting her to the fact that she was veering into the next lane.

  Heart pounding, Jenna corrected her steering then glanced in the mirror to try and see if it was the same car she had seen earlier.

  Her stomach tightened at the black colour and the darkly tinted windows, which gave the Audi a menacing aura. Which was exactly what she had intended when she had written about the car in her book.

  It looked like the same vehicle, but, unfortunately, she hadn’t thought to take the registration number before, so she couldn’t confirm that it was.

  The car stayed behind her, too close for her to make out the licence plate. The tinted windows meant that beyond a vague, sinister shape she coul
dn’t see the driver.

  She changed lanes then glanced in the mirror again as she made the turn, but the Audi had already accelerated away.

  * * *

  Still on edge hours later after she had gotten home from the family dinner, Jenna decided that scanning a copy of the poisonous fan letter and emailing it to O’Halloran could wait until the morning. Spending time with her aunt and two cousins, both of whom were married with children, had been a welcome distraction, but the instant she had gotten in her car to drive home the fear that she would be followed had kicked in. She hadn’t, but the possibility had made the drive unpleasant. The last thing she needed to do before bed was add to her tension by rereading the threat.

  Walking quickly, she did her nightly round of the locks, checked the alarm was set, made herself a hot drink and climbed the stairs to bed.

  Ensconced in the soft nest of duck-down pillows with her Aunt Mary’s remedy for sleep, hot milk laced with malt, and the Bible open on her lap at the most comforting section, the Psalms, Jenna tried to relax.

  She had a sudden flashback of the pot plant smashing on the pavement.

  If she hadn’t heard the faint scrape of terracotta against stone, as if someone had pushed the heavy pot plant, and stopped to look up, she would have been either seriously injured or killed.

  The series of unnerving incidents had to be pure coincidence. No one was trying to kill her. Clearly, she had let her imagination run away with her.

  Jenna took a sip of hot milk and malt and focused on Psalm thirty-four, deliverance from trouble.

  Midnight came and went. She set the empty mug down on her bedside table, replaced the Bible on her nightstand and switched out the light. Turning on her side, she forced her thoughts away from the incident with the pot plant and the malevolent Audi...and her growing conviction that the fan who had written the nasty email was making good on his threat.

  Instead, she allowed herself to think about the chance meeting with O’Halloran, and the fact that he had gone to the mall and checked out the security tapes.

  The change of focus was instantly soothing. O’Halloran had a rock-solid quality, a take-no-prisoners attitude, when it came to crime and injustice. She had always liked that about him. Somehow, without saying a word, he conveyed an impression of tough, no-holds-barred, protective strength. If he ever got hold of the guy driving the Audi—and she was abruptly certain that it had been a guy, not a woman—she wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.

  Yawning, she turned over in bed. Her head was swimming with tiredness. As her breathing finally slowed, her thoughts shifted irresistibly back to her first meeting with O’Halloran. Although, nine years ago, she hadn’t called him O’Halloran, she had used his first name, Marc.

  She had been in her final year at Auckland University and Marc had been taking the same criminal psychology paper she had been studying. They had ended up sitting side by side at a lecture then had gone out for coffee afterward.

  The second she had found out he was a cop, she should have made her excuses and left. Instead she had let Marc buy her a second coffee, and introduce her to his friends, two other detectives doing the same course. Still raw and grieving after Dane’s death, O’Halloran had somehow slipped beneath her defences. Aware of the dangerous undertow of fascination, she had kept him at arm’s-length, promising herself that she would pull back before it was too late. Although, as she’d found out today, controlling O’Halloran and the attraction that had blindsided her hadn’t exactly been her strong point.

  Frowning, Jenna banished O’Halloran from her thoughts and concentrated on keeping her mind blank until mind-numbing oblivion finally sucked her under.

  * * *

  Aware that she was immersed in a recurring dream, Jenna almost surfaced from a fitful sleep.

  She should make herself wake up properly, give herself a good talking to, but the compulsion to drift back into a past that included O’Halloran was unexpectedly powerful. Letting out a breath, she ceased to think. Instead she allowed herself to sink back into the dream, back into the past....

  The summer evening was warm enough that she had folded up the gauzy turquoise stole that went with her gown and stuffed it into her evening bag as she hurried out of the hotel ballroom. Stepping into the ladies’ room, she checked her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her hair was definitely mussed. Aside from those details, she looked composed enough, which was a surprise given that she had just won a minor tussle with a date who had suddenly turned from shy and harmless into a ravening octopus.

  Jaw set, she hunted in her evening bag, found a spare hairpin and did her best to fix the elegant twist of hair on top of her head. Satisfied that she no longer looked like she’d been dragged backward through a haystack, she made her way to the hotel lobby.

  There were no taxis outside the hotel, so she spoke to the concierge. He ordered a taxi but informed her that thanks to a high-profile football game and a rash of conferences, the wait time was half an hour, minimum.

  Jenna thanked him. Unwilling to wait in one of the cozy private bars, in case her Jekyll-and-Hyde date came looking for her and added insult to injury by offering her a ride home, she strolled outside to wait.

  Twenty minutes later, tired of kicking her heels, she walked back into the lobby to check on the arrival time of the taxi and stopped dead when she saw O’Halloran at the concierge desk.

  His back was to her, but there was no mistaking his height, the sleek width of his shoulders or the tough line of his jaw. Heart slamming against her chest, because she was abruptly certain he was looking for her, she turned on her heel and stepped back outside.

  Extracting her cell from her evening bag, she tried calling her aunt and uncle, something she had done at approximately five-minute intervals. The call went through to voice mail, signalling that they were still out to dinner with friends. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought to ask which set of friends so she didn’t have an alternate number to try.

  Slipping the phone back into her bag she glanced at the entrance doors of the hotel and caught another glimpse of O’Halloran as he strolled out of one of the small intimate bars and into another one. Looking for her.

  Maybe it was an overreaction, and maybe she was wrong, but instead of waiting a little longer and risking O’Halloran finding her, she started walking. Leaving the hotel on foot wasn’t smart, but after the wrench of breaking up with O’Halloran less than two weeks ago, she wasn’t about to jeopardise the progress she had made by spending time alone with him.

  Aside from the bone-melting attraction, she was acutely aware that despite her efforts to keep things casual they had been on the verge of becoming lovers. The knowledge that she had been a heartbeat away from sleeping with a man she had only known for a few weeks, when she had never come close to sharing that intimacy with Dane, had struck her forcibly.

  It had taken courage to make the break with O’Halloran, but it was done, and she wasn’t going to complicate the situation by being a wimp now. To cement the decision, she had made arrangements to go overseas. She was newly graduated and free as a bird. She had a friend she could stay with in Sydney and a series of job interviews lined up. She didn’t have a clue what she would end up doing for a living, but she flew out in ten days’ time.

  The decision to leave had filled her with relief. She had read somewhere that one way to neutralise issues and problems—and fatal attractions—was to create geographical distance from them, and she could attest to that fact. Just buying the air ticket had been liberating.

  Behind her, she registered footsteps, almost drowned out by the sound of an approaching vehicle. Ahead, warm light flowed from a restaurant. All she needed to do was reach the pooling light and she would be able to ring her uncle again and see if he could come out and pick her up.

  She crossed the road, more worried by the footsteps and a
potential mugging—or worse—than the car. She was now on a one-way street. The vehicle wouldn’t come her way. It would have to veer off at the intersection and continue on downtown.

  The sound of the vehicle increased to a roar as, instead of slowing for the intersection, the driver accelerated. Frowning, Jenna glanced over her shoulder. She caught the silhouette of a man as headlights blinded her. It occurred to her that it could be O’Halloran, but all of her attention was taken by the car, which had somehow missed the turn at the intersection and was careering down the one-way street in the wrong direction.

  She stepped onto the narrow path that hugged the edge of a bridge. Adrenaline surged when she realized that the man behind her was much closer. She thought he said her name but at that moment the threat from the car became paramount, because the driver appeared to be aiming straight for her.

  Dragging at the entangling layers of her skirts, she kicked off her high heels and began to run.

  Panic squeezed the breath from her lungs. She needed to reach the end of the bridge and get off the footpath.

  She heard her name called again. O’Halloran. Relief coursed through her.

  The loud detonation of the vehicle hitting the curb almost stopped her heart in her chest. Simultaneously an arm snaked around her waist and she found herself lifted up and propelled the last few feet off of the bridge. A split second later, they hit the grassy turf that bordered the stream and the car fish-tailed past, bare inches away, filling her nostrils with the smell of burning rubber and exhaust fumes.

  With a second loud thump, the car veered off the path, back onto the road. Headlights glared and a horn sounded as it almost hit a vehicle accelerating down the one-way in the legitimate direction, then sped off into the night.

  O’Halloran, who was sprawled over her, shielding her with his body, pushed to his feet and helped her up. “Are you all right?”

  Still shaky from the near miss, but oddly elated, crazily, because O’Halloran had noticed that she had left the hotel and had come after her, Jenna found her evening purse, which had landed on the grass a few feet away. “Yes, thanks to you. If you hadn’t followed me—”