Running on Empty

by Michelle Celmer

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to my house.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It’s still the safest place for you. The windows will be boarded up by now, and the alarm will cover every other possible entry point.”

  The air was crisp as they walked outside. She shivered under the light jacket and Mitch held her a little closer. “I heard what your friend said. I don’t want to get you into any more trouble.”

  “You let me worry about Darren. Like I told him, my priority is keeping you safe.”

  “And if you can’t keep me safe?”

  He looked down at her, his eyes dark. “That’s not an option.”

  Mitch woke with a start, springing up in bed, then he realized he wasn’t in bed. He was on the bedroom floor. He rose up, squinted to see the digital clock.

  Nine-thirty.

  He looked up on the bed where he’d insisted Jane sleep, but it was empty. Then the scent of coffee and bacon registered in his fuzzy brain.

  Yawning, he pulled himself up and stumbled to the bathroom. He unwrapped his hand, noting that it was healing well and didn’t look infected. It still ached like hell though. He found a bottle of ibuprofen in the medicine chest and washed three down with water.

  She’d proven in the alley and again last night, when it came to the fight-or-flight instinct, she was a fighter. Which was odd for a domestic-abuse survivor. Typically they were wary, afraid of people.

  Nothing about this case seemed to add up.

  He showered and brushed his teeth, and upon closer inspection of his face, decided it was about time he shaved. After he dressed, he ventured out to see what Jane was up to. He found her in the kitchen, gazing out the window into the backyard, a cup perched in one hand.

  “I thought you weren’t a coffee drinker,” he said.

  She turned to him, her face unreadable. She looked neither surprised nor happy to see him. If anything, she looked a little lost. “It’s tea. I made the coffee for you. Did you sleep well?”

  He shuffled across the room to the cupboard and pulled out a mug. “Like the dead. How about you?”

  She shrugged. Under her jacket she wore one of Lisa’s old dresses, a flowery number made of a silky-looking fabric that hugged her narrow hips and swished around her legs as she crossed to the stove. Her hair was once again pulled up and fastened in a ponytail, showing off the long, graceful lines of her throat. Damn she was pretty.

  Silently cursing himself, he looked away. After last night, it would be in his best interest to keep his eyes—and his hands—off of her today.

  Jane slipped on an oven mitt and pulled a plate of bacon and a platter piled high with pancakes out of the oven. “Hungry?”

  “Looks like you’re planning to feed an army.”

  “I started mixing the ingredients and this is what I ended up with. I figured you could freeze the leftovers.”

  He watched as she set the plates down on hot pads and turned off the oven. “You didn’t have to cook.”

  “It was a way to kill time.”

  “How long have you been up?”

  Again with the shrug. “A few hours.”

  “We didn’t get back here until almost three a.m. You must be exhausted.”

  “I slept enough.” She pulled two plates down from the cupboard, and silverware from the drawer. It hadn’t taken her long to familiarize herself with his kitchen. Not that he minded. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken to find breakfast waiting for him. Kim, the only woman he’d ever lived with, had been a late sleeper. He’d realized too late that she’d existed on a pharmaceutical roller coaster—amphetamines to get her going in the morning and downers to knock her out at night. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the occasional line of coke to help get her through the day.

  “I, um, wanted to apologize for what happened last night,” Jane said, as she dished the food onto the plates.

  “I told you, there’s no need to apologize. My insurance will cover the damage.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about the windows. I meant that I was sorry for knocking you down, and then, you know…teasing you. I don’t know what got into me.”

  The mere thought of her teasing, and the realization that the only thing keeping them apart had been his boxers, filled his head with impure thoughts. The same things he’d been thinking last night, seconds before the windows had been blown out. It forced him to consider what would have transpired had there been no gunfire. In a moment of weakness would he have acted on those fantasies? Or would he have had the will to push her away?

  To make matters worse, he was pretty sure she still wasn’t wearing any panties.

  “No harm done,” he said. Nothing permanent anyhow. He was sure over time he would forget what her soft behind had felt like cupped in his palms. The silky, warm skin…

  Okay, so maybe there was a little harm done. And it appeared to be manifesting itself in the region of his crotch.

  “I cleaned up as much glass as I could in the living room and bedroom,” she said. “I wanted to wait until you woke up to vacuum.”

  “You should have left it. I have a maid service that comes in and cleans once a week. I’ll call and ask them to come by today.” He grabbed the maple syrup from the fridge and followed her to the table, careful not to look anywhere south of her neck. They sat across from each other.

  She didn’t eat, only pushed the food around her plate with a fork. Something was definitely up with her. This wasn’t the spunky, passionate woman he’d grown accustomed to. She was shutting down, turning in on herself.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

  “Like myself?” Her fork clattered to the table. “And how is that exactly? You don’t even know who I am. I don’t even know who I am. Did you ever consider that maybe this is normal for me.”

  “Jane—”

  “I’m serious, Mitch.” Jane pushed back from the table, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I could be anyone. I could be a thief. I could have been robbing you blind this morning and you never would have known. Why would you even trust me?”

  “You didn’t rob me blind. And if you were a known criminal, we would have found your prints in the database.”

  She raised her eyes heavenward and sighed. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “I wish that were true. I wish I could tell you who you are, and why that man attacked you. And when I say you’re not acting like yourself, I only meant you’re tougher than this. You know that deep down.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket, glancing up at him through a veil of thick, dark lashes. “I wasn’t so tough when I was throwing up on you.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “You’ll never let yourself live that one down, will you?”

  “I’ll bet you never did.”

  “No, but I have gotten sick at crime scenes. Everyone has their physical and psychological limits. Sometimes even seasoned cops get sick. It reminds you that you’re human, that you still have feelings.”

  She was quiet for a minute, the hint of a smile nudging up the corner of her mouth. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “You always manage to say just the right thing. You make things seem less…hopeless.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand. What he really wanted to do was hold her. “Because things aren’t hopeless, Jane. Not yet, anyway.”

  Chapter 9

  Jane looked down at Mitch’s hand curled over hers, then up into his eyes and her heart jumped into her throat. His eyes were so full of compassion, she went fuzzy and warm inside. Despite this whole mess, at that moment, she felt inexplicably safe. “Thank you.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze and pulled away. “I do have to be honest with you. We have a dozen pieces to this puzzle, but none of them seem to fit together. I’ve got Greene working on it, but until someone reports you missing
, or you get your memory back, I’m out of ideas.”

  “And he’ll keep stalking me.”

  “But he won’t get you. I won’t let that happen.”

  She had a sudden revelation. An idea so crazy, it just might work. And for the first time that morning she felt enthusiastic. Hopeful even. “Maybe you should.”

  “Should what?” He stood and carried his plate to the sink.

  “Let him get me. He gets me, and you get him.”

  He turned to her, eyes widened with disbelief. “Are you suggesting that I use you as bait?”

  “You said that he could have killed me if he wanted to, that he needs something from me. I know it sounds nuts—”

  “It doesn’t just sound nuts, it is nuts.”

  “Like you said, I’m tough. I can handle it. I think it would work.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But, Mitch—”

  “No. It’s not even up for discussion. What he did to that woman last night, that was pure rage. What if I didn’t get to you in time?”

  “You would.”

  He shook his head. “No way. I’m not willing to take that risk. If it were my own life at stake, it would be different.”

  One minute he says she’s tough, then he’s back to coddling her. She wished he would make up his mind. Or maybe she would have to make up his mind for him. Would it be so hard to plan something all by herself? She would have to sneak away from him somehow, but not so far that he wouldn’t be able to get to her in an emergency. She would have to act quickly, when the opportunity presented itself.

  Jane followed Mitch to the sink, setting her plate beside his, the wheels in her mind spinning—devising a plan.

  “Uh-oh,” Mitch said.

  She looked up, startled. “What? What’s wrong?”

  His brow sunk low. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re planning something. I can see it in your eyes. You looked exactly like this when I dropped you off at the halfway house yesterday.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said, avoiding his eyes. How could he possibly know what she was thinking? Could she be that transparent?

  She opened the dishwasher and began stacking the dirty dishes inside. She would have to be more careful from now on. She’d figured from the start that he was a good detective. Maybe a little too good. His instincts were always right on the mark.

  “Promise me you won’t,” he said from behind her.

  He was so close, she jolted with surprise and spun to face him. “Won’t what?”

  He curled his fingers around her arm. “I mean it, Jane. Promise me you won’t pull some crazy stunt and get yourself hurt.”

  If there was any doubt before that he cared for her, at that moment, it was evident in his eyes. That didn’t change the fact that she wanted answers. Still, she couldn’t very well make him a promise she knew she wouldn’t keep.

  She chose her words with care. “Nothing crazy. I promise.”

  “But you are planning something, aren’t you?” He had her cornered, her back pressed against the edge of the countertop, his hand clasped about her forearm—firmly enough to let her know he meant business, but not with enough force to inflict pain. And he was close. Close enough for the flesh on the back of her neck to prickle, close enough to catch the faintest scent of coffee on his breath—

  “Tell me the truth,” he coaxed, locking her deep into his gaze. She cursed those magnetic eyes of his. They hypnotized, willed her to confess.

  He learned in closer, until they were almost nose to nose. “Tell me the second I turn my back you won’t disappear on me.”

  He was wearing her down. It took every ounce of willpower she could muster to keep her mouth closed. What she needed was a diversion. If only the phone would ring, the doorbell chime…the house burst into flames.

  He moved closer still, insinuating one leg between her two, his body molding to hers. He wasn’t playing fair. They were locked from hip to chest, the only sound, her own heart hammering wildly against her rib cage, the rasp of her breath as she fought to keep a hold of her wits. He reached up and cupped her cheek and her knees went wobbly. Then there were flames. Embers smoldered deep inside her. The promise of…of what? Hot sex they would both regret. It would be immeasurably stupid.

  Of course, it didn’t have to be sex. It could be a kiss. One harmless little kiss. Then she wouldn’t continue to wonder what she was missing. Hell, it might not even be any good. He could be a lousy kisser. She would never know if she didn’t give it a test run.

  “Oh, what the hell.” She flung her arms around his neck, lifted up on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his.

  There was an instant of hesitation on his part, then his lips softened and he leaned into the kiss. She felt his hands cupping her cheeks, his fingers slipping through her hair. He tilted her head, deepening their contact. At the first touch of his tongue against her own, as their breath mingled, the world went blurry around the edges. What started out sweet and gentle quickly became urgent—demanding even. He held nothing back. He kissed with an honesty that blew her away. It curled her toes and liquefied her bones and turned everything else to putty.

  He possessed her—owned her. And just when she began to lose herself completely, when the last of her apprehension slipped away and it was just her and Mitch, the phone rang.

  He surprised her again by backing off slowly, hesitantly, his lips lingering against hers for several seconds before he finally pulled away. She’d expected him to dart back, cursing himself for his actions—for his mistake—but he didn’t let her go. He only sighed, eyes closed, and rested his forehead against hers.

  “I should get that,” he said, but didn’t seem to be in a hurry to move.

  “It could be important,” she agreed, dropping her arms from around his neck.

  He reached over her and grabbed the phone. “Yeah.”

  He listened for several minutes, nodding his head and responding with an occasional, “Uh-huh.”

  Considering the grim expression on his face, she guessed it wasn’t a social call. She laid her head against his chest, feeling the vibration of his voice against her cheek. If only the kiss had been lousy. She would have even settled for so-so. Instead it had to be wonderful. Amazing.

  Perfect.

  “Yes, sir, Monday morning,” he said, then pushed the disconnect button and set the phone down on the counter.

  “Problem?” she asked

  He linked his arms around her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. “My lieutenant.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “He didn’t sound happy, but he told me to sit tight until tomorrow morning. He trusts me.”

  Guilt assailed her. How would his lieutenant feel had he known she and Mitch had been playing tonsil hockey when he’d called? That if he hadn’t called at that particular moment, the situation would have progressed to something a hell of a lot more intimate than a kiss.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You know, you spend an awful lot of time apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  He smoothed his hands over her shoulders. “It was that bad, huh?”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be awful, but it wasn’t. It was a slice of heaven. But I’m just going to get you into more trouble.”

  “So why did you do it?”

  “I needed a diversion.”

  A laugh rumbled through his chest. “It worked.”

  “We shouldn’t do it again. At least, not until we know who I am.”

  “I know.” After one last squeeze, he pulled away. “I do have a favor to ask.”

  She drew her arms around herself, to ease the emptiness she felt the instant he’d pulled away. “Anything.”

  “Trust me. Trust that I’m damn good at what I do, and I won’t let you down. It may take some time
, but we will figure this out. And we’ll do it together.”

  A sudden surge of emotion had tears welling in her eyes. “I wish I knew why it’s so hard for me to trust you. To trust anyone. But I want to be in control. This feeling of helplessness is making me nuts.”

  “And it makes me nuts that you won’t let me take care of you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He brushed a wayward tear from her cheek with his thumb—which only brought her closer to a meltdown.

  “Look what you’re doing to me,” she said with a sniffle. “Stop being so nice.”

  “Promise me you won’t try anything.”

  She huffed out an unsteady breath. “If you’re not careful I’m going to need another diversion.”

  He cradled her chin in his palm, forcing her to look at him. “Go ahead and kiss me again if you have to. I’m not letting this go until you promise me.”

  It was tempting. Kissing him again, that is. Because he did it so well. Which is precisely why she didn’t. The next time they wouldn’t stop with a kiss. On the off chance that she was some sort of criminal, or someone’s wife, and out of respect for Mitch, she couldn’t let it happen. “So what if I do promise? How do you know I won’t just turn around and do it anyway?”

  “Because I trust you.”

  That one just about did her in. And as badly as she wanted to, she couldn’t tell him no. She couldn’t deceive him. “Fine,” she said, pulling her chin away. “I promise. Sheesh! Are you happy?”

  He only grinned, and seeing him so pleased suddenly made the sacrifice worthwhile. And that scared the hell out of her. When had his happiness become so important to her? If there was ever a time to be selfish, it was now.

  Old habits, a little voice in her head sang before the memory was swallowed up again.

  What old habits?

  “Is something wrong?” Mitch asked. “You just got a funny look on your face.”

  “Fleeting memory,” she said, giving her head a shake to clear away the bitter aftereffect. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

  The phone rang again and he scooped it off the counter. He spoke briefly to the caller before hanging up. “We have to make a stop at the precinct. Greene thinks he may have found something.”