Relentless

“It’s all clear.”

“Would you look at what they did?” She let out a small moan and scooped up a picture of herself and Cody, setting it carefully back on the shelf where it belonged. “I’d offer you the couch, if I had one.”

“Don’t touch anything.” Mick eyed what was left—a pile of fabric and stuffing. “You’re coming with me. This is no coincidence. The MO looks identical to the job on the Beamer. They could come back. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

“This scares me. What if Cody had been here with a sitter?”

He watched her very own words force the color from her face. She stood up.

“Don’t get riled up, Kate. They were looking for something. We just have to figure out what.”

She paced back and forth in the small room, making him nervous. “I don’t have anything. No jewelry.” She looked around the room. “My stereo equipment is still here.”

“Don’t try to guess what motivated them. Did you see anything that could help?”

“They were driving the black car I saw this morning.”

MICK STOOD IN THE HALLWAY. The first rays of dawn were pushing between the slats of the blinds, reminding him morning was here. The moment stalled in time as he watched Kate, asleep on his sofa.

Every safe house in New Orleans had been full last night, so he’d brought her home. He smoothed his hands over his head. He’d offered her the bed, but she’d refused. Why did she have to look so damn beautiful, snuggled against the white pillowcase, her mass of dark hair tousled around her face? Beautiful, yes. But innocent?

He ground his teeth together. He didn’t trust Kate Robear with his mind, but his heart had other plans. How could he separate the two? Had his years with the New Orleans PD made him into the man he was or just kept him alive while he hunted for answers?

Turning around, he went into the bedroom and closed the door. He’d let a Robear spend the night in his home. A home that had sheltered his wife and daughter before they’d been killed. Four walls that still echoed with sounds of their lives. For all of Kate’s claims of innocence, her blood ran with Robear genes. She couldn’t be trusted. Maybe it was a good thing she was here so he could keep an eye on her.

Mick cranked on the sink faucet in the master bathroom and soaked a washcloth in hot water. He couldn’t let Kate get under his skin. It was easier to mistrust her than to give her credence. He pressed the cloth to his face and warred with his choices. Could he pass up the case and risk never knowing who killed his family? Could he let her walk and kiss his only chance at the truth goodbye?

Anger churned his insides. Indecision wasn’t his thing. There was only black and white. Gray had never colored his decisions…until now. He couldn’t let her go.

KATE AWOKE WITH A START. Where was she? Looking around the room she settled back against the sofa cushions as last night’s memories surfaced. She was on Officer Jacoby’s couch. She sat up. A mess waited for her at home. She had to move, had to focus.

Shuffling into the kitchen, she spied the coffeemaker. His home was neat and tidy, not the typical bachelor pad she decided, as she opened the cupboard above the pot. Sure enough, a plastic container of coffee sat amongst perfectly positioned boxes of Earl Grey, English Breakfast and green tea. Sexy and organized.

She pulled the canister down and filled the coffee filter, then filled the reservoir at the sink. Flipping the switch to brew, she returned to the couch and folded the blankets.

A fireplace dominated the end of the room and she drifted to the mantel, adorned with photographs in various styles of frames. It looked more like a shrine than a casual grouping.

Every picture contained a woman and a little girl. Each one seemed to catalog a stage in the child’s life. The woman smiling back looked happy.

Her gaze settled on a picture in the middle. Mick held the little girl on his knee and the woman stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder. She felt like a snoop, digging into caches where he kept his private things. The woman’s wedding ring was obvious. She looked at Mick’s left hand in the photo. The gold of his wedding band gleamed back.

Maybe they were divorced? It wouldn’t be something to come up in conversation. She moved past the pictures until she reached the end of the mantel. The last picture was in a sterling silver frame. A date was inscribed. Never Forgotten 5-10-2000.

Odd, a divorce would produce such a feel of finality. She focused on a small object next to the picture frame. Curious, she reached for it.

“Don’t!”

Kate froze in midtask and let her arm fall to her side. She turned around.

Mick stood behind her, anger etched in the line of his lips, and a hard stare fixed on her with green eyes that had darkened to the color of jade.

A tentacle of fear wrapped her spine, and she swallowed. “I’m sorry, I was just wondering what it—”

“It’s mine. That’s all.”

His short answer stirred her curiosity, but she’d respect his privacy. If he wanted to leave a small chunk of metal on his mantel, who was she to question his reasons?

“I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home.” He moved toward her and stopped. “Not until we catch the guys who slashed things up.”

“That could take weeks, maybe months. I have a life.”

“No, you don’t. Not until we get them.”

She stared at his bare back as he strutted into the kitchen, the defensive set of his naked shoulders, the narrow taper of his waist as it disappeared into the waistband of his pants. Liquid desire flowed through her veins unchecked and opened the pores in her cheeks, leaving her hot and embarrassed.

“Coffee?” he asked over his shoulder.

She followed him and watched him pour her a cup.

“Have you considered that whoever is doing this may try to hurt you when they can’t find what they’re looking for?”

“I’d be an idiot if I hadn’t.” She was suddenly irritated that he could even think she wouldn’t have that horrible thought nested in the back of her mind.

He set a cup on the counter in front of her. “On the surface this looks like burglary or vandalism, but thugs like that rarely make it personal. They don’t scribble threats in blood.”

She watched him over the rim of the mug as she took a sip.

His jaw tightened and he wouldn’t look at her. “I didn’t want to alarm you the other night at Whittley’s place, but there was blood at the scene. We found marks on the riverbank that indicate a boat of some kind was pulled ashore. There was a cigar butt in the water. The lab is trying to obtain DNA, but the water may have corrupted the evidence.”

“Cigar butt?”

“Yeah.”

“I smelled it the night I repoed Otis’s car.” She downplayed the shudder that wiggled up her spine as she mentally connected the information. “They were there, in the bayou…waiting for Otis, watching me? They did the BMW and trashed my house last night?” She willed her frayed nerves smooth. “What now?”

He looked at her. “You hang at a safe house until I apprehend them.”

“No way.” She set her coffee cup down with a thud. “If you think I’m going to kick back and let these maniacs keep coming around to screw up my life then you’re nuts. I plan to be involved all the way.”

“Kate.” His tone was soft, like a parent scolding a naughty child. “You know I can’t allow you to get involved.”

“Not involved? I’m in this up to my neck. If I’m going down, I at least want to know who’s pulled me under. I’m not some helpless woman. I can take care of myself.”

A nerve played along his jaw as her sharp words cut a path through his macho mentality. She wouldn’t let him leave her out. She had too much to lose.

“If you don’t let me help, I’ll go out on my own. I have all the information I need.”

He stepped next to her; inches separated them. She could smell the tang of aftershave warmed by his body heat. She watched the rise and fall of his bare chest, half obscured by a large white bandage plastered on his side. Arousal sparked the nerve endings beneath her skin. He was too close. She stepped back.

Mick couldn’t believe his ears. What if she got her pretty little neck…

“I can arrest you, right now.”

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