by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann
“I had already bought her a laptop,” Kayla snarled like a wounded animal. Only he, or maybe some criminal, could bring out the beast in her like this.
He held out his hands in bewilderment. “I had no idea.” He dropped his arms back to his sides and cocked his head to eye her suspiciously. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Kayla? You think I did this on purpose?”
“Don’t try that innocent gig on me, Mike,” she ground out. “Remember, I know you. I learned your MO the hard way.”
“Don’t confuse me with one of your criminals.” His face tightened with his own mounting anger. “I’m only trying to do the right thing here.”
“Too little too late, hotshot.” She planted her hands at her hips. “Do you think you can just come back here and act like the past twelve years didn’t happen? Get real, Bridges, this is not a game. This is real. I’m not going to let you play games with Jazz’s feelings.”
“I’m not playing games.” A muscle in his hard jaw flexed. “I have a right to see my daughter. I’m sorry if my showing up tonight was an inconvenience but to be honest, you weren’t around, so what does it matter?”
Any hopes she’d had of keeping this civil vanished. “You bastard. I have a job to do. Don’t you dare hold that against me. You’ve used your career to get out of every personal responsibility you’ve ever had. You have no right to come here and judge me.”
“I have as many rights as you do,” he threw back. “Ask any lawyer.”
Fear tightened around her throat like the greedy fingers of the grim reaper. “Don’t even think about it, Bridges,” she cautioned. “I’ll dig up your every escapade. You think your name is mud now, just try me.” She glared at him, infusing every ounce of determination she possessed into that lethal stare. “You will regret it.”
“I tried to reach you,” he restated, visibly backing off.
The about-face startled Kayla. Was this some kind of new tactic? “So you said. Just remember, we do this my way. Next time you want to see Jazz you don’t show up until we’ve squared it. Got it?”
He hesitated, but only for a split second. “Got it.”
“I guess you’d better get on the road.”
He nodded, his gaze averted, his posture still rigid in spite of his composed tone. “I’ll be in touch.”
Kayla didn’t move until he was gone from sight. She closed her eyes and grappled for calm. What the hell was he thinking? Instinct warned that it was not nearly as simple as he wanted her to believe it was. The fear that had gripped her throat relaxed marginally, just enough for her to draw in a much-needed breath.
She definitely could not trust him.
“Why’d you do that?”
Kayla whirled around at the sound of Jazz’s voice. Her daughter stood on the porch staring at her, tears glistening on her cheeks, hurt shining in her big eyes.
“Jazz, you don’t understand.” Kayla started toward her. “Your dad and I—”
“I understand,” she accused. “You want him to go away like before. You don’t want him to come around any more.”
Kayla’s heart bumped against her sternum, sending a shattering ache reverberating through her. “No, sweetie, that’s not true.” When she started up the porch steps Jazz backed away.
“I know you don’t like him,” she said, her voice shaky with emotions. “But I do.”
Kayla exhaled a heavy breath as she crossed to where her daughter hovered in the door, half in, half out of the house. “I know you do. I’m not trying to make him go away.” She held out her hand to her daughter but Jazz dodged her touch. “Let’s go home now. We can talk about this tomorrow when we’ve both settled down.”
Jazz shook her head. “I’m not going with you. I’m staying here.”
Before Kayla could say more Jazz ran inside. Mary, who’d waited by the door, clearly torn between interfering and keeping her mouth shut, stepped out onto the porch.
“Let her be,” she offered gently. “This is all so confusing for her. Let her spend the night with me.”
“But, Mary, we need to work this out.” Kayla fought back the sting of tears.
“Of course you do, but not tonight. Let her sleep on it.” Mary managed a faint smile. “You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. She’ll wake up in the morning asking for you. You know how kids are.”
Kayla could only hope. She shook her head. “Why is it I’m the bad guy?” It just wasn’t fair. “He flits around all over the world while I’m here taking care of business, then when he finally shows up I’m the one doing everything wrong.”
Mary hugged her close, smoothed a hand over her hair. “Shhh,” she urged. “Don’t do this to yourself. You know this isn’t your fault. It’ll work out.” Mary drew back then, her cheeks damp with the emotion she could not restrain. “Mark my words, sister, all will work out if you allow nature to take its course.”
Kayla released another of those soul-shuddering breaths. “You’re right. I’m overreacting.”
Mary patted her arm reassuringly. “You’re human. Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll deliver your precious daughter to you tomorrow after choir practice—or you can pick her up.”
Kayla had forgotten about that.
“I’ll pick her up. Kiss her good-night for me, would you?”
“I will.”
Leaving with that heartache unresolved between her and her daughter was one of the hardest things Kayla had ever had to do. But she was the grown-up here. Her daughter didn’t fully understand. It would take time and patience on both their parts.
Tomorrow things would be better.
Chapter 10
Kayla parked in her driveway but didn’t get out of the Jeep. Her heart felt heavy with regret that she hadn’t been able to make up with Jazz. But a part of her was still furious with Mike.
No doubt she would get inside and find a couple of messages from him, but why hadn’t he bothered to call her office? Anyone there would have been happy to patch him through to her. The bottom line was he hadn’t wanted to locate her. Not really. He’d wanted to avoid the whole confrontation and simply show up…and steal the show.
That’s what he’d done, all in one fell swoop. Jazz was charmed and Kayla was the bad guy.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to push aside the hurt and anger. Being a parent just kept getting harder…her every move lately felt wrong.
A soft tap on her window jerked her head up and her eyes wide open. Her hand was on the butt of her weapon before her brain assimilated what she saw.
Peter Hadden.
Detective Hadden, she amended, annoyed at herself for thinking of him in any other capacity.
“You planning to stay a while?”
His smile had the usual effect. She felt her tension melting despite her determination not to let him get to her on any level.
She opened the door and got out, automatically depressing the lock button as she closed it. The act had nothing to do with her certainty that someone was keeping a watch on her. An unlocked door, home or automobile, was an invitation to thieves.
“What’re you doing here?” Was the wrong man popping into her life tonight destiny or what? First Mike and now him.
And what was so wrong with this handsome detective? another voice challenged. God, there it was. The part of her that suffered with loneliness and wished she had a physical relationship in her life. Why was it a woman didn’t feel complete without a man in her life? Was this God’s sense of humor at work? Or maybe it simply boiled down to basic biology.
That’s all she really needed, wasn’t it? Just some good sex to stave off depressing nights like tonight?
“I wanted to ask how your friend is doing.”
He was lying. He hadn’t driven all this way just to find out information he could have gotten over the phone. He might be a great detective, might even fool the suspects he interrogated, but whenever he lied to her she could tell.
“She’s stable.” Hanging on by a thre
ad, she didn’t say. “Still unconscious, so we don’t know any more about what happened than we did when we found her.”
He nodded, his expression somber. He knew the way this worked better than she did. No cop wanted a case to stand still. Not moving forward equated to going backward. In some aspects of the overall investigation Kayla had made definite headway, but in others she was still running blind.
“Can we talk?”
Something changed in his expression then, and the transition set her on edge. “What’s up?”
He inclined his head toward her house. “You could invite me in?”
She would have liked to think that the query was an invitation based on the other night’s confession of attraction, but she sensed that there was something more on his mind.
A new kind of apprehension working its way into her composure, she shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
He followed her onto the porch, waited patiently while she unlocked the door. She flipped the wall switch and a lamp next to the sofa bloomed with soft light. She cringed. She hadn’t picked things up in a while, and Christmas decorating paraphernalia was scattered everywhere.
“Would you care for a glass of wine?”
She hadn’t meant to make the offer but she could damn sure use one herself. It wasn’t like she could have a drink without asking him and taking the edge off this night had just gone from a nice idea to an outright necessity.
“I’d love one.”
She peeled off her jacket and tossed it onto a chair. Her utility belt, including her weapon, followed. She didn’t need to worry about it lying around tonight. Jazz wouldn’t be here. A fresh stab of pain sliced through her heart. This evening had definitely sucked.
In the kitchen she pulled the half-empty bottle of white wine from her fridge and dug through her cabinets until she found two stemmed glasses. She thought about the wine and glasses at Christine’s house. Prints had been lifted from both the glasses and the bottle, but no match in any of the databases had been found. No real surprise there.
Someone Christine knew, most likely, had entered her home, shared wine with her, then shot her. Kayla wouldn’t have been so certain about that were it not for the way the glasses had been stored. Christine Evans was too particular to have put the glasses away dirty and to have stuck a bottle of red wine under the sink. In fact that quick cleanup had been so sloppy, Kayla felt certain she’d interrupted the perp.
Kayla’s thoughts went back to Nurse Betsy Stone. It could have been her. Damn, she hated to think the nurse was capable of attempted murder, but she’d certainly been involved with what happened to Rainy. Criminal activity escalated more often than not. There was every reason to believe at this point that she could be involved in most anything.
With the glasses filled, she made her way back into the living room where Peter Hadden waited. He’d occupied himself with looking at the collection of framed photos she had sitting about. Most were of Jazz, from infancy to this last Thanksgiving. A few of family. Then one or two with Jazz and Kayla together. Not a single one of the father.
God, she had to get past the whole Mike issue. It wasn’t like his sudden appearance was the end of the world.
Enough was enough. She glanced at the answering machine as she passed it, two messages. Just like he’d said.
“Your daughter is really gorgeous,” Peter said as he set a photograph back on the mantle.
Hadden. Not Peter.
“Thanks.” She handed him the glass in her left hand.
“Thank you.” That high voltage smile flashed, sending a little shock wave straight through her.
Flustered, frustrated, and just plain fed up, Kayla took a long drink of her wine. She had to regain control here.
“She’s with your family tonight?”
Nosy, wasn’t he?
“Yeah. We had a fight.” She gulped another swallow, hoping against hope the alcohol would hurry up and do its woefully needed work.
“About Mike Bridges.”
She almost choked, coughed then cleared her throat. “You got a crystal ball in your pocket, Detective?”
Maybe he was the one who’d been following her. Nah, that couldn’t be right. What would be his motivation?
“I called looking for you over the weekend and your partner said I shouldn’t give you any grief because you had enough already with the shooting of Christine Evans and Jazz’s father showing up.”
Kayla considered whether capital punishment applied when one cop killed another. Jim must have really been worried about her. She had complained a number of times about Hadden’s annoying interference. She narrowed her gaze. More likely the fine detective had wormed it out of her pushover of a partner.
“That’s right,” she admitted. “He’s decided he wants to know his daughter after all this time.” Why the hell was she even telling Hadden this? “His timing stinks, but then it always did.”
Hadden set his glass on the nearest table. “I wish I didn’t have to dump more bad news on you.”
Kayla went still. “What?” She set her glass next to his. Had he learned something else about Rainy or Marshall? If he was here to try and convince her that Marshall was a bad guy, well, he could just save himself the energy.
“Kayla, Marshall Carrington is dead.”
She blinked. Her mind refused to accept the words her ears clearly heard. “What did you say?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but he was killed in a smuggling operation. The authorities in Bogotá haven’t given us all the details yet, but the FBI is looking into the incident. The consensus is that the deal went sour and Marshall was caught in the middle.”
Bogotá? FBI?
She shook her head in denial. “He said he wouldn’t be going to Colombia until after the new year.” This didn’t make sense.
“The trip got moved up. His contact in Tucson called and passed along the instructions Friday afternoon.”
“But I just talked to him—”
Hadden wrapped his strong fingers around her arms and gazed down at her with genuine sympathy. “I know you didn’t want to believe the worst about him, but what I told you is true and it cost him his life.”
She shook her head again. “This is crazy. I need to call—” She couldn’t think what to say…how to proceed. This couldn’t be real. No way. There had to be a mistake. “Who identified the body?” That’s it. It was a mistake. Marshall had been confused with someone else.
“A Bureau agent identified him, Kayla. There is no mistake.”
She jerked free of his hold. “Why would he be involved in smuggling? It’s not like he needed the money!” She froze, her mind screaming but her body unable to respond immediately. “Are…are you thinking that what he was involved in had something to do with Rainy’s murder?”
“I don’t know. We believe he kept that part of his life completely secret from Rainy, but his associates could have known about her.”
“How long…” God, even asking the question felt like an outright betrayal to the man she had adored and respected. “How long was he supposed to have been involved with this smuggling?” A frown nagged at her brow. “And what the hell was he supposed to be smuggling?”
“There’s not a lot I can tell you,” Hadden cautioned. “I can say that he’d been involved for at least two years, maybe longer. I can’t share more than that at this point. But,” he pressed her with his piercing blue gaze, “trust me when I say there’s no evidence that ties his activities to Rainy’s death.”
He still refused to call it a murder.
She turned away from him, unable to deal with the truth she saw in his eyes. All that she’d believed in was suddenly going to hell. Rainy was dead. Athena Academy was somehow involved. Christine Evans and Betsy Stone were up to their necks in secrets, one fighting for her life in the hospital, the other missing, maybe even dead. And now Marshall. Jesus, that didn’t even include Mike’s sudden interest in her daughter.
The idea of what might
be next was too terrifying to contemplate at the moment.
“I really am sorry, Kayla.” Hadden moved in close behind her. Her body reacted instantly to his nearness. “I didn’t come here to gloat. I wanted to be the one to tell you because I knew you’d be hurt.”
Anger flared inside her. She swiveled to face him. “Well, you were right. Bully for you. What do you want now? A medal? Thanks, Detective, but you aren’t likely to find any compensation here.”
The angst in his expression told her she’d accomplished her mission. She’d cut him to the bone. Somehow the realization gave her no satisfaction.
“I should go.”
Before he could walk away, a truckload of contrition heaped onto Kayla’s shoulders. “Wait.” She closed her eyes and blew out a weary breath. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” She’d have to call the girls. Alex…
Who would call the Millers? She wasn’t sure Marshall had any close family living. Did he have an attorney?
She opened her eyes once more and lifted her gaze to Hadden’s. He did look as if he cared how she felt. Or was that wishful thinking?
She so needed something good to be real tonight.
The hurt from seeing Mike with Jazz and that damned laptop. Watching Christine lie in ICU on the edge of death. Discovering the identity of a young woman who might be Rainy’s child. Marshall’s death. It was just too much.
His arms were suddenly around her and Kayla didn’t resist. Couldn’t possibly have held back. She needed his strength, his warmth. Needed him.
For a long while he held her that way, allowing her to lean against him. But that would never be enough.
Without having to say a word, he suddenly understood that she needed more. He lifted her face to his and he kissed her, long and thoroughly. He took his time, didn’t rush, allowing the sweet sensations to wash over and over her again and again.
Kayla couldn’t remember how long it had been since a man had held her…kissed her this way. Didn’t even want to think about it. She just wanted to feel.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the hall. “Second door on the left,” she murmured between kisses.