Double Deception

by Terri Reed

  She wanted Brody to let her in, to open up to her, to prove that he trusted her and believed in her. She wanted to be friends.

  Friends were all they could ever be.

  She’d just have to make sure her heart understood that she was never going to fall in love with Sheriff Brody McClain. The life of a cop’s or sheriff’s wife was the antithesis of what she wanted—security, peace.

  Too bad the rest of her longed for the comfort and care she’d found in his arms.

  Suddenly Brody had the distinct feeling that the private compartment had been a mistake. They were too close, too alone and all of his senses were on alert. He was attuned to every move, every breath she took. It would be too easy to forget his job and take up where they’d left off before the bullets had started flying. He’d never protect her that way. The latest near miss was proof enough.

  Now Kate was asking him pointed questions about his past that he had no intention of answering. He couldn’t let his guard down; he couldn’t succumb to the connection arcing between them because the only way never to risk getting hurt again was not to love again.

  He remained motionless under her emerald gaze.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Does it have anything to do with your limp?”

  He forced himself to remain expressionless even though her question seared him clean through. Of course, she’d have noticed his limp, which had become more pronounced over the course of the day. But had she noticed it before then? He stretched nonchalantly and shifted on the seat, taking some of the pressure off his sore hip. Why was he trying so hard not to reveal his injury to Kate?

  Pride.

  He didn’t want her to view him as weak. How could she trust him to protect her if she knew he could no longer pass muster as a detective?

  Kate moved from her seat and sat beside him on the padded bench seat. “You told me not to let Paul win by allowing him to hurt me anymore. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped letting your past win?”

  His own words were coming back to haunt him. He gave her a hard glance. “You know nothing about my past.”

  “And you know everything about mine. Doesn’t seem fair.” She made an impatient gesture with her hands, her knuckles brushing against his leg.

  Running a hand through his hair, Brody tried to ignore the prickles of awareness coursing through him at Kate’s unintentional touch. “Telling you won’t change anything.”

  “No, probably not.”

  Surprised by her bluntness, he turned to face her. Her eyes were closed, her head leaned back against the wall, her lips slightly parted as if waiting for his kiss.

  Abruptly, he stood, his head hitting the low ceiling. He winced. “I’m going to find some food.”

  Kate opened her eyes and regarded him steadily, her gaze telling him she knew exactly what he was doing. Running away from her uncomfortable questions, running away from her.

  “Why are you doing this, Brody?”

  He raised a brow. “I’m hungry?” he said, trying for levity.

  Her lush mouth quirked. “I mean, why are you helping me? What’s in it for you?”

  Good question. A question that Brody had ignored from the get-go. Part of why he felt compelled—and that was a good description—to help Kate stemmed from some twisted need for redeeming his judgment. Somehow, by helping Kate, he could prove he wasn’t a sucker for a pretty face and that he was now capable of determining the innocent from the guilty.

  Then there was Kate herself. Her kind and gentle spirit, the spark of fire in her eyes, the way she looked at him with so much trust. Maybe it was because it felt so good to have her call him her guardian angel. If there were such a thing, Kate deserved one.

  But so had his father, and there hadn’t been one around. Brody steered his memories away from the night his father had died and from the thoughts of faith Kate stirred within him.

  Her trust in him made him want to answer, even if his answer wasn’t the complete truth. He sat down and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’m helping you because it’s my job to.”

  She leaned forward. Red curls bounced on her shoulders, her expression was determined. “That’s not why. Maybe at first, but it doesn’t fly now. You could have handed me off to the FBI. Why didn’t you?”

  “And miss all this fun?” He blinked at her innocently.

  Kate gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Is your family in Boston?”

  “Yes.” Brody’s mouth quirked in amusement at her change in tactics. She was a tenacious lady. He had a feeling she wouldn’t let up until she got the answers she wanted both from him and from her dead husband. He admired her determination even as he deplored the foolhardiness of treading on dangerous ground. She shouldn’t be here, putting herself in the line of fire, searching for shadows.

  “Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall,” Kate muttered.

  Brody chuckled. “You sound like my little sister.”

  Kate arched a brow, encouraging him without words to continue. He never talked about his family or his life. In his job, he was the one to ask the questions. He felt awkward. It occurred to him that there was safety in his role. He mentally shrugged. Telling her about his family could only deepen her confidence in him to protect her.

  “My mom still lives in the house I grew up in. I have three siblings. My older brother, Patrick, teaches at Boston College, my little sister, Meghan, runs an art gallery in New York City and my baby brother, Ryan, is an investment broker.”

  “Your dad?”

  Brody stiffened.

  “Divorce?”

  He relaxed slightly at the tenderness in her tone. He remembered what she’d told him of her parents. “No, my parents had a happy marriage.” The need to confide in her caught him by surprise and he couldn’t hold back. “My father was a cop.”

  Kate swallowed hard. A sinking feeling pulled at her. “Was?”

  Pain deepened the darkness of his eyes. “He was killed.”

  Compassion tightened a knot in Kate’s stomach. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  He splayed his fingers through his hair. A wayward lock fell across his forehead. She resisted the urge to push it back in place. “Was he on duty?”

  The corners of his mouth tightened. “No. He’d just come off his shift.” Brody’s eyes took on a faraway glaze. “I’d missed the bus, so Mom called Dad and had him come pick me up at school. We were on our way home.”

  The realization of where this story was going filled her with dread.

  A sad smiled touched his lips. “He teased me about liking school so much that I’d want to spend the night. We both laughed because my older brother Patrick was the one passionate about school.”

  The smile faded. “A call came over the radio. Another cop was in trouble, needed backup. We were just around the corner. I remember he hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and I nearly jumped out the window. He had this expression on his face that I’d dubbed his cop look…angry, intense. He jerked the wheel. We shot down a side street. We were the first to arrive. The other cruiser was empty, the door wide open. He told me to stay put and lock the door. Then he got out.”

  The dread squeezed her insides. “You didn’t stay put.”

  “I was twelve. I wanted in on the action, wanted to see my dad take down the bad guy.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Only I saw the bad guy take down my dad. The scum shot him in the chest. He died…instantly.”

  Her heart ached for the little boy who’d seen such violence, for the man who lived with the memory. No wonder he thought God didn’t care. She touched his arm. The muscles beneath the cotton of his blue chambray shirt tensed. The naked anguish in his eyes hit Kate square in the chest.

  “I’m so sorry, Brody. No one should witness that, let alone a child.” She blinked back tears. “Why did you become a policeman?”

  “To honor my father. To give to the department that gave so generously to our family.” His jaw tightened. �
��To make sure the bad guys in this world paid for their crimes.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I admire you for that.”

  His hand closed over hers with unbearable tenderness. The expression in his fathomless eyes shifted. The pain receded. The inner light now in his eyes stalled her breath. She licked her lips. His gaze tracked the motion. Her heart hiccupped.

  “I don’t know why I told you.” The husky timbre of his voice slid down Kate’s spine, cementing the specialness of the moment. His story made her want to weep. His confidence moved her.

  “Sometimes…it’s good to talk,” she murmured.

  One side of his mouth cocked upward. “I’ve talked to more head doctors over the years than I have toes.”

  “That’s a lot of doctors.” Had he moved? His lips seemed so close.

  “You should see my toes.”

  The vibrant tone in his whisper zinged through Kate. She dragged in a ragged breath. “As long as your feet don’t smell.”

  Brody’s rich laughter wrapped around her, releasing the pent-up energy charging the air between them.

  Kate scooted away, allowing a cooling space to bring sanity back to the situation. “Did you say something about food?”

  His amused gaze let her know he realized she was using his avoidance tactic. Embarrassment flushed through her. He stood and held out his hand. She allowed him to pull her to her feet and told herself to let go of his hand, but she couldn’t quite find the power to release her hold on him as they went in search of the dining car.

  She questioned her sanity. It was one thing to want the sheriff to believe her, to believe in her. And it was an entirely different thing to allow herself to bond to him. She would not fall for him, a man whose very job created insecurity.

  TWELVE

  Brody watched Kate from the corner of his eye. She stared out the window of the taxi, her eyes wide, taking it all in as they traveled down Summer Street.

  “What a beautiful city,” she commented as they crossed the Fort Point Channel.

  His mouth twisted into a smile. He thought she was beautiful. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. There was no question the whole outside package was a work of art. But the real beauty lay within. There was beauty in her determination to see this ordeal through. Beauty in the resilience that kept her on her feet and moving. Beauty in her compassion and generosity to a woman who by all rights she should resent.

  And her faith shone like a brilliant star, bringing light to even his darkened soul.

  They were entering the area of Boston referred to as Southie. His part of town. The traffic slowed, became a crawl as they passed by heavy construction equipment and men wearing hard hats and orange vests. The work area seemed endless.

  At her questioning glance, he said, “The Big Dig. The city’s way of solving the increasing traffic problems. They’re taking the highways underground.”

  The taxi moved forward, picking up speed as the traffic cleared. Brody watched his old haunts roll by. There was McGlinty’s Tavern, the after-shifts hangout for several local precincts. On the corner was the movie theater, now expanded into a multiplex.

  He’d known these streets so well. Grown up here, walked the same beat as his father before making detective. But all that went up in smoke one stormy night. His career stalled. His heart betrayed. His thoughts zeroed on the woman sitting beside him.

  She’d gotten under his skin. That was the only explanation he could find for telling her about his father. He never spoke about that. Not even to Elise.

  An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn’t have let his guard down, he shouldn’t have opened up to her, risking his heart. Risking betrayal. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  No, he had a plan.

  With the help of his ex-partner, they’d solve the mystery of Kate’s husband and then he could get on with his life as sheriff without her.

  But the thought of going back to his little studio apartment with its white, unadorned walls and cold hardwood floors didn’t hold much appeal. Not when he could easily envision a home with Kate. A place where she would add feminine touches to make it cozy and warm, where her concern and affection would be his.

  He frowned, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him. Playing house was not an option. Emotions wouldn’t dictate his moves. He had a job to do. The job must always come first. Kate was a job. Nothing more.

  “Is something wrong?” Kate’s anxious whisper shook him from his thoughts.

  “No. Everything’s great.” Even to his own ears he didn’t sound very convincing. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  Moments later the taxi pulled up in front of the South Boston police precinct where Brody and his father before him had once served the public. Brody’s chest grew tight. He hadn’t been back since the day he’d become sheriff of Havensport. Suddenly he missed the serenity of his small town.

  He helped Kate from the car. The pulsing beat of the city filled his senses and the afternoon sun made the cotton of his shirt stick to his skin. Kate’s hand gripped his tightly. He saw the worry in her bright-green eyes. He squeezed her hand as he led her up the concrete steps toward the glass doors of the redbrick station house.

  Once inside, Brody took a moment to absorb the familiarity of the precinct.

  The soothing salmon tones of the marble-tiled walls reflected the light coming through the windows. His gaze took in the black-and-gold plaques spread out across the walls. His father’s name was on the plaque near the top left-hand corner. He’d looked up to his dad when he was alive. It only seemed right that he could still look up to him.

  Brody took a step forward. A twinge of pain shot up his leg, acutely reminding him he’d come close to having his own plaque etched with his name on that wall.

  “McClain!” A gray-haired uniformed police officer charged forward with an outstretched hand. “As I live and breathe…I’d given up thinking we’d see you here again.”

  “Captain.” Brody clasped Sean O’Grady’s hand and was unceremoniously pulled into his father’s old friend’s embrace.

  “Does your mother know you’re in town, boy?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure she will soon.”

  From the twinkle in Sean’s eyes, Brody had no doubt Colleen McClain would be receiving a phone call within minutes of her son’s arrival. Though his father had been gone for years, the sense of family and community in the department continued for the widow and children when one of their own died in the line of duty.

  Sean’s gaze settled on Kate, who stood quietly to Brody’s left. The curiosity and speculation glinting in the old man’s eyes brought heat creeping up Brody’s neck.

  “This is Kate Wheeler,” Brody said.

  “Ma’am.” Sean inclined his head and then turned questioning eyes to Brody.

  “She’s…uh…in my protective custody.”

  Bushy gray brows rose. “Your custody, eh? Didn’t know sheriffs did that sort of thing.”

  Irritation burned its way into Brody’s chest. Everyone on the force knew why he’d left; he didn’t want them thinking history was repeating itself, that he was falling for another suspect. “Is Gabe around?”

  Sean gestured with his hand toward the back of the station. “At his desk.”

  “Thanks.” Brody grasped Kate by the elbow and pulled her with him away from Sean’s scrutiny.

  As they moved through the station, a sense of welcome wrapped around him as he acknowledged shouts of greeting and waves from fellow officers he’d once served with. He forced his mind not to dwell on why he’d left or on how good it felt to be back.

  At the rear of the station house, past several rows of desks, sat his ex-partner, Gabriel Burke.

  At one time Brody had been closer to Gabe than he’d been to his own two brothers, until Brody’s stubborn defense of Elise had wedged a wall between them. A wall that remained today, five years later.

  Brody braced himself as they approached G
abe and he met his ex-partner’s wary hazel gaze. Gabe had aged. There were lines on his chiseled face that hadn’t been there before and a few distinctive gray hairs at his temple.

  Pleasure crowded Brody’s chest. He quickly forced his emotions under control as he said, “Hey, Gabe.”

  “McClain.” Gabe’s gaze slid over Kate, over the hand with which Brody still held her elbow and back to meet Brody’s eyes.

  Brody stiffened at Gabe’s silent reprimand, but he didn’t release Kate. He’d stand behind his decision to help her without apology. “We need your help.”

  “Picking out china?”

  “With a police matter,” Brody stated firmly.

  Gabe sat back and crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest. “Just can’t keep yourself from getting mixed up with women who can ruin your career, now, can you, Brody?”

  The air swooshed out of Brody’s lungs as if he’d taken a shoulder in the gut. Apparently, securing his friend’s help wasn’t going to be as easy he’d anticipated.

  Kate felt Brody flinch. She glanced up to see his strong jaw tighten and his eyes narrow with suppressed hostility. Nervousness roiled in her stomach. What was going on? Why were they so angry at each other? Who was this other woman Gabe mentioned? Brody’s career ruined?

  “Don’t start with me, Gabe,” Brody warned.

  Gabe raised his hands, callused palms facing out. “Hey, I’m just stating the obvious.”

  “This is different.”

  Curious, Kate held her breath as the two men stared at each other for a long charged moment, then Gabe’s gaze shifted to her. He was a good-looking man around Brody’s age—midthirties, she’d guess—with a square jaw and light blond hair, though there was a hardness to Gabe that made her shiver. She lifted her chin beneath his uncomfortable scrutiny.

  Gabe shrugged his massive shoulders as he once again turned his attention back to Brody. “Not according to the FBI.”

  Brody jerked his hand away, leaving Kate slightly off balance. A flutter of panic sent ripples up her spine.