“Like this?” Luke drew the blade across the rod a few times, then lifted his eyes to Kell’s. The annoyance hadn’t disappeared. “Would you like to try?”
“No, thank you,” she teased, “I prefer to watch.”
“Apparently, watching isn’t nearly as much fun.” He held her gaze, eyes searing in their heat. “I haven’t noticed that you have trouble participating when it suits you.”
“It’s a question of timing, Sheriff.” She took another bite of tart. “I’ve been catching up on my Hallden news. Any more information on the murder of Clay Griffin?”
Appreciating her skill, Luke set the knife and rod down. Knowing she wouldn’t let it go, he summarized, “Nothing yet. Chef, he ever come around here?”
“His kind is not welcome in my establishment, Sheriff,” the chef intoned stiffly. “While I may have soft spot for the reformed rake, I do not countenance the debauchery of Mr. Griffin’s ilk. The sale of illicit substances to children offends me.”
“How do you know he sold drugs to kids?” Kell probed.
“One of my busboys,” sniffed Hervé. “I was nearly forced to terminate his employment when I saw him making a purchase from Mr. Griffin. Not yet sixteen and already heading down a wrong path.”
Kell latched on to a single word. “You didn’t fire the busboy?”
“Oh, no. Not when Eliza requested that I give the boy a second chance.”
“How kind of you. But you must have been furious with Griffin for bringing drugs to your door.”
His eyes flared with anger. “Absolutement! I run a respectable place. Still, I am not so far removed from Mr. Griffin’s station. I was outraged, yes, but I pitied him also. To prey on children for your daily bread is pathetic, no?”
“Of course.”
“However, Griffin was prohibited from my restaurant. I am sentimental, not stupid. Plus, I showed him the very nice pistol I keep in my office. I am regarded as a fair shot, and Mr. Griffin believed me.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I wish ill on no one, but Clay Griffin cared nothing for others. A low, mean man, I believe.”
A phone rang in the office, and Hervé excused himself. Luke set the knife and rod on the worktable. “Nicely done.”
“Pardon?”
“The inquisition of the good chef. You slid answers out of him like a pro.”
“I was merely making conversation.” And hoping for other suspects. Alone, the mention of Eliza’s well-known passion for cooking amounted to little in the way of evidence. Nevertheless, Luke’s reaction had been informative. The cool brown eyes held steady, not showing a semblance of reaction. His lack of reaction tempted her to assume he had not clued into her as a potential suspect. But she doubted he would fail to follow up on such an obvious tip. “You seemed to be driving at some conclusion, though?”
“Police business. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
“Then I can head out. I don’t think I’ll be making my tartines tonight.”
“Where to next, Kell?”
“I plan to stop in to see Mrs. F.” And bring her up to speed on the knives. Ms. Preston and Mr. Welker seemed unlikely culprits, but she would need as many alternate theories of the crime as possible. “What about you?”
“Cheryl dropped me off. My truck is at Jonice’s for service. She was going to swing by and pick me up after her patrol. Maybe you can give me a lift instead.”
“To the Center?”
“I have some things to discuss with Eliza. Cheryl can pick me up there.”
Mind racing, Kell cast about for an excuse to keep him away from the Center until she had time to brief Eliza. “Alright. But I will be more amenable if I’m fed first.”
Luke gave her a speculative and admiring look. “Food seems to be the center of our relationship. Where does it all go?”
“I’ve got nervous energy,” Kell retorted lightly. “Would Hervé let you play in his kitchen too?”
“Not while I have breath,” Hervé announced from the door. “I will feed you. Sit, sit. I will make you lunch.”
Bustling around the workstation, he plied Luke with more soup and poured a generous bowl for Kell. Croque-madame followed, then Hervé excused himself to return a call.
“Why did you become a lawyer?” Luke asked as he nudged the plate of sandwiches across to her. He enjoyed watching her eat, taking obvious delight in every morsel. She ran the tip of her tongue across the slick mouth, catching a crumb. Heat surged through him, a brutal wave of arousal he was growing accustomed to fielding.
Unaware of the effect she was having on him, Kell lifted her shoulders once, her forehead knotted in thought. “I’d always wanted to be one, I suppose.”
“The influence of L.A. Law, no doubt.”
Kell hesitated, then shook her head. “It was Fin.” The instant the words slipped out, she frowned. She didn’t talk about Fin. “And the others. Being a kid without any power over your life is hard. Adults made all of the decisions, all the time.”
“That’s life, Kell. Children aren’t equipped to make tough choices.”
“Most aren’t, but that doesn’t stop the choices from being made.” She chewed on her sandwich thoughtfully. “The law gives you power. You understand what the rules are, how they’re broken. Why.”
Luke drank from a glass of sparkling water. “The law doesn’t tell you why the rules are broken. Lawyers either for that matter.”
“Of course we do. In an opening argument or a closing statement, every sentence uttered on behalf of a client is a why. Poverty or neglect or greed, there’s a reason. My job as a lawyer is to tell the jury why and help them see themselves making the same choice.”
“Is that why most of your clients are guilty?”
“Ninety percent of my clients are not guilty in the eyes of the state of Georgia.”
“What about your eyes?” Luke pressed. “Do you see them as innocent or guilty?”
“I don’t care about innocence. That’s not why I get hired. I produce results. Prove that the prosecution failed to meet its burden. Not guilty is the benchmark, not innocence.”
“Are they ever innocent?”
Kell thought about Eliza. “Sometimes, yes. Not often, but yes.”
“And how do you defend those clients?”
“With everything I can think of,” she warned. “Innocence is rare in my world. I take it very seriously.”
“Like I take the truth seriously.” Luke stood, crossed to where she perched on her stool. He streaked a hand through her hair, coming to rest on her nape. Exerting a light pressure, he tilted her eyes up to meet his. The deep brown held suspicion and a fascination that fired his blood. Beneath the fall of hair, he stroked the tense line of her neck. “I dislike liars, Kell. Which is why you confound me.”
She tried to swallow, but her throat tightened. “Lawyer, liar. People get the words confused quite often, but they aren’t the same thing, Luke.”
“I realize the difference, Kell, but you make it hard. For example, your hands aren’t always honest.” Giving away an advantage, he explained. “When you lie, your hands are still. It’s the only time.”
Shocked, she almost glanced down at them, but caught herself before reacting. In a scathing voice, she explained, “I’m a remarkably calm person, Sheriff. Some might even call me cold.”
“They’d be foolish. Kell, you vibrate with an energy that you try badly to contain. Button it up in suits or not, I can see it. Feel it.”
“Imagine it,” she mocked, disturbed by the slow glide of his fingertips against her skin. Once, then again, her breath caught. “Let me go, Sheriff.”
“I should. Like I should believe that you’re capable of murder, but I don’t.” Instead, he plucked her hand from her lap, lacing the fingers with his own. “I think you’re protecting someone. A few someones.”
She jerked at her captive fingers, to no avail. Instead, he caught her elbow and slipped her from the stool. Kell refused to fight, and instead jutted her chin out def
iantly. “You already have two mysteries to solve, Luke. I’m not one of them.”
“Yes, you are. Any one who truly looks closely at you will see it. A Porsche? That car isn’t a statement of wealth, it’s an outlet. Power and raw energy that can pour out everywhere and leave you unscathed.”
“I drive a Porsche because it’s pretty. I wear nice suits because they make me look good. And I gesture because it helps me to think,” she sneered.
“Liar.”
“You don’t know me.” She whispered the denial, rearing away. Her hip bumped against the station and halted her retreat. “You know nothing about me.”
He skimmed his thumb over the taut line of her jaw. The line tensed, and he resisted the urge to soothe. Edgy himself, he prodded, “I know what I see. A beautiful, brilliant woman who pretends to be aloof and hard-driving. Yet, she breaks a sixteen-year exile with a single phone call.”
Her startled gaze flickered up to his. “Eliza didn’t tell you that.”
“No, you did. Just now.” The tender glide of his fingers caressed her throat. Beneath his touch, her pulse jumped, scurried. “I can read you, Kell. Not completely, but better than you’d like, which scares the hell out of you. You’re a mystery wrapped—”
“In an enigma,” she finished mockingly, struggling not to lean into his touch.
“No, in a brittle shell that is perilously close to shattering.” Frustration spilled into his voice. “Too many secrets to keep to yourself.”
“And what about you, Sheriff? Why are you hiding in a tiny town on the edge of nowhere instead of in Chicago? What are you running from?”
Luke’s hot eyes went instantly to frost. “We’re not talking about me.”
“Of course not,” Kell challenged. “It’s much easier to analyze someone else, isn’t it? Let’s see. You’re a seasoned cop who threw away a promising career. Instead of catching real bad guys, you load goats into trucks and play country sheriff. All the women in town, and you find yourself attracted to me, the one woman who is dead wrong for you. Who lives too far away to make it real. Why? Because you’re terrified that you can’t handle the big stuff anymore. Hiding away here where the ugly parts of life can’t find you.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“Yes, you are. Like the rest of us. The difference is, you won’t admit it.” She turned and walked to the back door. Halfway there, she tossed over her shoulder at Luke, “I may be a liar, but I’m not a coward, Sheriff.”
CHAPTER 12
He caught her at the door, his hand snagging her arm in an unbreakable grip. Spinning her to face him, he warned, “You can’t call me a coward and walk away.”
Nerves wired, she yanked at the restraining hold, at the urge to stand still. “How are you going to stop me? I can go wherever I please, Sheriff. If I’m not under arrest, take your hand off me. Now.”
Luke stared down at where his fingers manacled the slender forearm, and his eyes darkened with shame. He’d never manhandled a suspect, certainly not a woman. She twisted something inside him, a voracity that he’d never known. A desire that beckoned impulses he’d spent years taming. Releasing her, he moved away, hands lifted in apology. “I apologize. I didn’t intend to frighten you.” Or frighten himself with his reaction. The truth, it seemed, cut both ways.
“You don’t frighten me,” Kell conceded unwillingly, intrigued by the play of emotions in the ebony eyes. No, his passion didn’t scare her, but his analysis had. She detested how he saw inside her, how clearly. Insight like his was dangerous and, worse, compelling. “And I know you’re not a coward. But stop trying to read me, Sheriff.”
“You don’t do such a bad job yourself, Counselor.”
“Then we can call a truce. I won’t look into you and you can stay the hell out of my head.”
“I can’t do that.” Luke shrugged once. “You fascinate me. As does the real reason why you’re here.”
“I told you. To help an old friend.”
Luke scowled at the lie masquerading as truth. He needed the truth from her if they were to protect Eliza. He wanted her to make the first move. Show the first hint of trust. But the short time he’d spent with Kell told him that would be next to impossible. So he’d break protocol first. In a low tone, he challenged, “You’re protecting someone who might be a killer.”
The bald statement hung between them. Kell darted a glance over his shoulder to the closed door of Hervé’s office. “What are you talking about?”
Understanding her caution, Luke pointed in the direction of the front of the restaurant. Kell nodded and preceded him into the space. She chose a stool at the bar and slid onto the leather-covered seat. Calculation indicated that Luke’s announcement warranted a change of tactics. Flat denial wouldn’t hold him at bay. “Who might be a killer?”
“Stop playing games, Kell.” Preferring to stand, Luke kept a safe distance between them. He tucked his hands into his pockets to keep them to himself. “Eliza, apparently.”
“Do you really think she’s capable of murder?”
Eyes steady on hers, he responded, “Yes. With sufficient provocation, anyone can take a human life. That’s not the question. It’s why.”
“So? Why Eliza? Why kill Clay?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know yet. But with the evidence I’ve got right now, she’s batting one for three—means.”
“The knives.”
“Which you somehow knew about before you got here. Since you’re part of the reason for my delayed autopsy.” He saw the flicker of triumph and arched a brow. “Don’t interfere in my investigation again.”
“I will do whatever I think best for my client.”
“What if that means bringing her into my office to make a statement? If she can clear this up, I can cross her off my list without raising her name as a suspect.”
“Too soon, Sheriff. You can’t prove that she alone has the means, and you haven’t established that she had the opportunity. Or a motive.”
“You’re saying she has an alibi.”
“I’m saying you’ve got no case.”
“But I do have Georgia’s best defense lawyer rushing to Eliza’s aid, and that’s a mighty powerful reason to believe she’s guilty.”
Kell hadn’t considered that her presence would cast doubt on Eliza. Frightened, she said urgently, “I swear to you, Luke, she’s not guilty. She didn’t do this.”
“Then help me prove it.” Luke moved closer, his voice low. “I have a duty to the law, and right now the evidence is pointing squarely at Eliza. But instinct tells me I don’t have the full story.” He closed the distance, still careful not to touch. “You and I both know that if I haul Eliza Faraday in for questioning, I damned well better have knife in hand and a string of witnesses. I won’t, and that’s gonna make this even messier.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“A partnership. For a while. You and me trying to figure out what happened.” That way, he could keep an eye on his prime suspect and prove his instincts correct.
“Together?”
“Quietly. If today is any indication, I’m going to find myself running into you anyway. Might as well work together.”
“I won’t compromise my defense of a client by breaking privilege.”
“Won’t ask you to. Because I’m not turning over all of my evidence to you. All I’m suggesting is that we coordinate. You start asking too many questions, and Eliza will become the public’s top candidate. Hallden has changed over the years, Kell, and you don’t know the landscape any longer.”
“And you do?”
“Better than you.” He extended a hand. “Trial run. We should talk to some of Clay’s business partners.”
“Drug dealers,” she corrected.
“Sure. We know the means. Motive is the key,” he said, echoing Kell’s assessment. “We’ll try it out today. The minute you think I’ve crossed the line—or vice versa,” he challenged, “we call it and go our separate ways.”
“You mean the fact that I want you?”
“Yes, that.”
He clasped his hands behind him. No, he wouldn’t touch her again until she asked. He wouldn’t risk it again. “That has nothing to do with this. I’m not going away.” He held her eyes, his steady and direct. “Neither are you. You want me too, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
“The fact that I enjoy your mouth is a poor reason to jeopardize my client.”
Luke grinned at the exasperated compliment. “Usually not, but a good kiss shouldn’t be underrated. But let’s be clear. I want more than your mouth. I intend to have everything.”
“I’m not a case to be solved.” But the craving begun last week had followed her, taunted her. And now relief stood inches away. “I’m picky about who I sleep with, Sheriff.”
“Me too. Counselor.” He took another step. “I love your mouth.”
Kell leaned forward, her lips parting on a sigh. “This is a mistake.”
“Okay.” He stood still, refusing to move any farther. This time, it would be at her invitation. No accusations, no remorse.
“One more time.” With a muttered curse, she erased the distance between them, her lips pressed against the hewn, sensual mouth that haunted her. Terrified her. Parted in welcome.
Triumphant, Luke scooped her from the stool and into his arms. His hand cradled her throat, tipping her head to plunder. He sank inside, tasting and feeling and wanting in waves that crushed instinct. His hands skated over the rounded curve of her breast, found the indent of her waist.
She slicked her tongue over his and nearly buckled his knees. Somehow, wonderfully, he discovered only a gossamer weight beneath her jacket. The fragile silk proved no barrier to his explorations. With each gasp of delight he won, he promised himself another. If they had been alone, he would have dragged her to the floor to ravish and claim. His mind reeled with sensation, drowning out reason.
Kell felt herself going under and didn’t care to surface. This madness, this delight, this man. She couldn’t remember wanting anything else.
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