by Maggie Price
Finely honed reflexes had him twisting in time to deflect a direct hit. In less than a second, he’d yanked her back against his hard body, had her neck locked in a choke hold.
“Not smart,” he said. The automatic gleamed dully in the dim light as he waved it in front of her face. “Say bye-bye to Auntie,” he whispered, then aimed the barrel at the bed where Emily lay drugged with sedatives.
“Don’t kill her.” Terror transformed A.J.’s voice into a frantic sob. “I’ll go with you. God, please don’t kill her.”
Chapter 15
Michael had his hand on the doorknob of Emily Duncan’s room when he heard A.J.’s terrified plea. He jerked his hand back, reached beneath his coat and slid his 9mm Sig Sauer from the shoulder holster. He’d done a cursory drive through the hospital’s parking garage, had seen A.J.’s Miata parked there, then Lawson’s Corvette. Michael knew exactly who was in the room with A.J.
He clenched his jaw, then lowered his shoulder and shoved through the door. Going in low, he kept the Sig close, chest high in a two-handed grip, as his eyes scanned the dim recesses of the room. In the space of a heartbeat, he registered the terror in A.J.’s eyes as she struggled against the arm locked around her throat.
“Let her go, Lawson!”
Instantly, Greg crammed the barrel of a 9mm Beretta against her ear and dragged her backward with him.
“I’ll kill her!” he snarled. “You understand me, Ryan?”
“Yeah,” Michael said, a mix of barely controlled rage and dread tearing his insides apart. All he could hear was A.J.’s tormented struggling for breath against the pressure of the bastard’s arm.
“Ease up, she can’t breathe.” Michael’s voice was calm. Viciously calm.
“You’re taking orders, Ryan, not giving them. Leave the gun on the counter behind you, then walk to that corner.” He jerked his head toward the shadowy part of the room farthest from the door.
Michael’s index finger remained firm on the cool steel of the trigger while his brain quickly analyzed the prospects of taking a shot. There were none. Lawson had A.J.’s body firmly shielding his. Michael knew he couldn’t chance it.
“Move!” Lawson shoved the barrel hard against A.J.’s ear, eliciting a strangled moan.
“All right.” Full of impotent fury, Michael placed the Sig on the edge of the counter. He walked across the room, never breaking eye contact with Lawson as the man backed slowly around to keep him in his sights.
“Sit in the recliner,” Lawson ordered. “Put your hands behind your neck. Link your fingers.”
Michael complied.
“Your lady’s leaving with me.” Keeping the barrel of the automatic pressed securely against her ear, Greg began a quick backward retreat toward the door. A.J.’s high heels nearly went out from under her on the waxed tiles as he dragged her with him.
Michael felt a moment’s pure fear as he stared into her ashen face. She had worth to Lawson only as long as it took him to get out of the hospital and away. After that, he’d consider her a liability and kill her. Michael clamped down on a curse. He had to stop the bastard before he got her out of the room.
“She’ll slow you down,” Michael said, his voice lowering to a tone of forced calmness. “Leave her.”
“Not a chance,” Lawson said with snarling fury. Beads of sweat lined his hairline. His index finger moved up and down the trigger as he glanced behind him to check the door.
“Leave her,” Michael repeated. “I’ll give you an hour’s head start before I call it in.”
“You’re not going to call at all,” Greg hissed. “You bring in the troops, I’ll know. Anybody tries to pull me over, she’s dead. You got that?”
“Got it.”
Michael shifted his gaze back to A.J.’s. Her eyes locked with his steady gaze, then sharpened, narrowed. He saw she’d come to the same conclusion about her chance of survival as he had. Saw, too, something akin to control surface through her fright. He nodded minutely, leaned forward and waited.
Raspy, guttural sounds rose in her throat. “Can’t breathe,” she gasped. Her hands went up, her white-knuckled fingers locking on the forearm that pressed against her windpipe.
“Let go of my arm, goddammit!” Lawson spat.
“Can’t...breathe.” Instantly, she buckled her knees and sagged. The sudden weight of her body dangling from his forearm had Lawson half bent toward the floor.
Michael lunged. One hand clamped on Lawson’s right wrist and jerked. The other hand grabbed the Beretta’s barrel, twisting up and out. A shot blasted through the window.
Michael registered the stab of pain as the sight on the Beretta sliced his palm.
“He’s got Ken’s tape!” A.J. shouted, her body still suspended from Lawson’s arm.
“Let go, A.J.!” Michael shouted as he grappled with the Beretta, still entangled in Lawson’s fingers. “Get the hell out of here!”
Michael increased the pressure of his hand, twisting the barrel savagely to keep it pointing upward.
Instead of scrambling to safety, A.J. clamped her teeth on Lawson’s wrist and bit.
He roared with pain and slung her away. Michael registered her yelp when she crashed into the roll-away cart, sending the Christmas tree flying.
Free of her weight, Lawson righted himself, swinging his fist as he came up. Michael twisted his body, caught a knuckle on the jaw. He tasted rusty iron blood as he lodged a leg behind Lawson’s and shoved, using the momentum of the man’s own body to send him flailing backward.
Before Lawson could regain his equilibrium, Michael slammed a hard fist into his stomach, then followed with one to his chin.
Spouting a crude oath, Lawson crashed to the floor. Michael was on him instantly, shoving the Beretta’s barrel into his ear. He screwed it in for good measure.
“How does that feel, you bastard?”
Two hours later, A.J.’s body had yet to cease its slow tremble. She sat in Michael’s office, staring down into the steaming cup of coffee a detective had coaxed into her hands.
It’s over, she assured herself, and for good measure glanced out the open door. At nearly ten o’clock on Christmas Eve, the Homicide squad room was filled with cops milling about, waiting. Greg at this moment sat in an interrogation room down the hall.
It’s over.
A deep-seated coldness seeped into her bones, and she shivered. For a brief instant she was back in her aunt’s hospital room, staring down the barrel of an automatic. The thought of what would have happened if Michael hadn’t shoved through the door when he did put a new wave of sickness rising in her throat.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the soothing hum of conversation coming from the squad room.
Her hands continued to shake.
Get a grip, Duncan, she told herself. You’re alive and well.
She managed to slide the cup onto the corner of the desk without sloshing the steaming brew over the rim. Lifting her chin, she met Michael’s gaze as he sat spine straight in his chair, phone against his ear while he conversed with the homicide detective who’d called from the interrogation area. The grimness that settled in his eyes tightened her stomach.
She dragged in a deep breath, keeping her eyes on Michael’s face even after he dropped his gaze and began jotting notes. The garish fluorescent lights lent a purple hue to the bruise that had formed on his jaw; the small, swollen cut at the corner of his mouth was a painful red. The hand he used to cradle the phone to his ear sported the bandage a nurse had wrapped around the gash left by the Beretta’s sight. He looked tired, battered, bruised...and all around like a knight in shining armor.
He hung up the phone, rose and walked around the desk, his eyes solemn. “Lawson just gave up his partner,” he said quietly, placing his unbandaged palm on her shoulder.
His partner. A.J. closed her eyes. If Greg was to be believed, it was his partner who killed Ken.
She took a deep breath, then met Michael’s gaze. “Who?”
“Helene St. John.”
A.J. blinked. For a moment, the words didn’t register. “She...killed Ken?”
“That’s what Lawson contends. A patrol unit just picked her up.”
“Oh, God.”
“I’m sorry, A.J.”
She rubbed her forehead, forcing her mind to work, forcing herself to think. “It was Helene,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“When Greg...had me in the hospital room, he said he knew you and I went to see Mary. I couldn’t think, couldn’t figure out how he knew that. It was Helene. She took the message from Mary’s secretary.”
“There’s so much I saw that I didn’t see,” Michael said. “Helene showing up when we arrested Billy Hollis, then Hollis yelling for a lawyer the minute Helene and Sky stepped into the room to take blood samples.”
Brows knit, he studied his bandaged palm. “Still, Lawson had no reason to think you knew anything. You treated him the same, let him come around you and your aunt.”
“Until the night of the dance when he picked me up,” A.J. said, everything making sense now.
Michael’s eyes sharpened. “What happened?”
“I mentioned Snowman.”
Michael’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Greg knew so much about Hollis and Hollis knew about Snowman....”
“So it was natural for you to ask Lawson about Snowman.”
“Yes. He said he’d never heard of him.” She gave Michael a look of self-derision. “I believed him.”
“You’re not the only one who tested the waters that night,” he said. “At the dance, Helene filled me in on how dishonest Ken was. Something didn’t sit right, so I let it drop that I knew Ken carried a recorder, made some tapes. In less than five minutes she had your date out the door.”
“And when Greg came back to the table, he was furious.”
Michael brushed his hand down her hair. “Your asking about Snowman and me confirming I knew Ken had made tapes was too much to put off as coincidence. Still, they weren’t sure what we knew. So Greg kept calling, leaving you messages.”
“That I never returned. Which made him and Helene more nervous...” A.J.’s hands clenched into fists. “All because of greed,” she said, her voice shaking. “They got involved with the drug operation and killed Ken because of money.” Her eyes blazed. “I want them to pay. I want them both to pay for what they did.”
“They will, I promise you that.”
She tightened her jaw. “What else is Greg saying?”
“Not much...yet. He’s holding out on what he knows about Snowman. He’s hoping to work a deal.”
“If he deals, things will go easy for him,” she said as she rose stiffly off her chair. “He won’t pay—”
“He will. We’ve got him cold, thanks to the tape Ken made.”
The fierce satisfaction in Michael’s eyes helped ease the pain in her heart.
“Ken got Lawson on tape,” Michael continued, “trying to recruit him to work in Snowman’s operation. Lawson talked about how the drugs are distributed and by whom. There’s no doubt about how deep into the organization he was.”
“But if Greg turns over Snowman—”
“If he does, it’s possible he’ll get less time on the drug charges, but not on Ken’s murder. You’ve got cops killing a cop. The DA won’t deal on that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” Michael’s palm rose, cupped her cheek. “Just like you were right from the very start about Ken. And I was wrong.”
“But you came around.” She gave him a soft smile and leaned into his arms. “You believed in me and in Ken. That’s what matters.”
A quick cessation of noise from the outer office sent the signal that every cop within range of vision was looking their way.
A.J. lifted her head from Michael’s chest, glanced out the door. “We have an audience.”
“Show’s over, folks,” Michael said as he reached out and swung the door closed on the roomful of curious gazes.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes taking her in. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Really okay?”
“Really okay.”
His hands tightened on her arms and he leaned her slightly back. “Then tell me what the hell you were doing, hanging onto Lawson’s arm while you took a bite out of his wrist.”
She arched a brow. “Helping you?”
“That was crazy, A.J. He could have killed you.”
“He could have killed you. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”
She raised on tiptoes, placed a soft kiss against his bruised jaw. She wanted to climb into bed with him, make love to him, then watch him sleep until the shadows of fatigue disappeared from beneath his eyes.
His hand came up, cupped her cheek. “Promise you’ll never pull a stunt like that again.”
She gazed up at him, taking in the fierce protectiveness in his glittering eyes, the battered mouth so utterly kissable. Heat ran beneath her skin, bringing with it the desperate need to lose herself in his arms. “Only if it’s necessary.”
He gave her a stern look. “If you won’t promise, I’ll have to keep you within arm’s reach to make sure you stay safe.”
She tilted her head. “And how long do you intend to do that?”
“For the rest of my life,” he said, pulling her back into his warm embrace. “I love. you, A.J.”
Her heart did a slow roll in her chest. “And I love you.” She pulled in a trembling breath. “Your keeping me within arm’s reach sounds like an awesome undertaking, Lieutenant. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“I’m sure.” He gave her a slow, intimate smile. “One hundred percent.”
Watch for Maggie Price’s next romantic suspense in early 1998!
ISBN : 978-1-4592-7254-5
PRIME SUSPECT
Copyright © 1997 by Margaret Price
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
He’d broken the first law of being a cop—he’d replaced discipline with emotion,
Letter to Reader
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Teaser chapter
Copyright
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
He’d broken the first law of being a cop—he’d replaced discipline with emotion,
Letter to Reader
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter
5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Teaser chapter
Copyright