One Good Man

It was her eyes. Smoky, dark and deep. He’d seen fear there.

Fear of him.

He downed a hasty swallow of coffee and nearly scalded his tongue. Hell, nobody should be afraid of him. Nobody except the bad guys.

What did she have against cops? He’d worked damn hard for his badge and rank. He shouldn’t be bothered by implied insults from damsels in distress who didn’t want to be rescued.

He shouldn’t be bothered by her at all.

He compromised on his response to Joe. “The commissioner’s got me playing some cat-and-mouse game I haven’t figured out yet.”

Joe thumbed over his shoulder toward the squad room behind him. “What does Judge Jack have to do with it?”

“The commish called yesterday and asked me to check Judge Maynard’s house. Personally. See if there was any trouble.”

“Was there?”

“Not that I could see. That’s why I’m trying to make some kind of connection. Reed wasn’t eager to share details.” Mitch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and splaying his hands in a gesture of frustration. “The only person there was the judge’s daughter. And she definitely wasn’t thrilled to see me.”

Joe laughed and tapped the bridge of his nose, indicating the purplish bruise decorating Mitch’s own nose that morning. “Is she another conquest you charmed and left by the wayside?”

Mitch felt his own mouth curling up into a wry smile. Casey Maynard had certainly packed a wallop. He’d never so much as experienced a slap on the face from one of his dates. “Even on my best days, I was never charming.”

“Hey, now don’t sell yourself short. I just put five bucks on you bringing a hot date to the big awards banquet.”

Mitch shook his head, his mood momentarily lightened by his friend’s teasing. “Don’t I give you enough work to do?”

Joe smiled innocently. “Most of the guys say you’re going stag to the big event. Ginny thinks you’ll take an old friend.”

“Save your cash, Joe. Isn’t that fourth baby due pretty soon? I figured you’d have more sense than to waste your money like that.”

“Impending daddyhood just makes me all the more romantic. I know you got a pretty lady stashed away somewhere.”

He dismissed Joe with a cajoling smile. “Back to work, Lieutenant.”

The two men stood, old friends at ease with each other’s various moods. Joe feigned hurt feelings. “What about the morning report?”

Mitch shooed him toward the door. “Let me return these calls on my desk. Then you can update me on our priority cases. And Joe…?”

Hendricks turned in the open doorway and waited expectantly.

“Step up patrols in Ms. Maynard’s neighborhood. But nobody goes into that house unless I give the okay.”

Joe touched a finger to one eyebrow and saluted. “Will do.”

“You’re a good man.”

“That’s what my wife says.”

Mitch smiled and dismissed him with an answering mock salute.

Poor Joe. He could kiss his money goodbye. Mitch had no intention of spoiling that banquet by sharing the evening with a woman who didn’t understand what that service award and promotion meant to him. Who couldn’t understand.

Women wanted attention. They demanded the spotlight. They expected to be spoiled. And if good ol’ Mitch Taylor, the Fourth Precinct’s resident old man, couldn’t give a woman what she thought she deserved, then she’d look elsewhere. Jackie had.

Mitch swallowed hard, sending the bitter taste in his mouth down to his stomach. His work had saved him from hell and given him a chance to be somebody. It had given him an identity. A power and an authority that he’d earned with blood and sweat and a lot of hard work.

But his work was a mighty cold companion when he lay in bed at night. It didn’t laugh with him over his mistakes, nor rally him when his faith faltered. It wouldn’t grow old with him.

Ignoring the debilitating influence of his own thoughts, Mitch unbuttoned the cuffs on his broadcloth shirt, rolled up the sleeves and sat down to do some of that work. He noticed the full mailbox on his computer screen and brought up the messages.

He scrolled through work-related contacts, but stopped when he came across an all too familiar name.

Captain Taylor

A convict named Emmett Raines escaped from Jefferson City. If you wish to alleviate your guilt from last night, you can tell me what KCPD knows about this.

Casey Maynard

“Guilt?” Mitch berated the computer screen. “She thinks I feel guilty?”

He ignored the fact that guilt had plagued him since learning he had used force against a handicapped assault victim, no matter how deadly her right hook might be. But her smoky eyes and proud little mouth had teased his dreams last night. Today Miss High-and-Mighty’s note aggravated that awareness into a full-blown distraction. He switched screens and typed in his response. “She’s got a hell of a nerve.”

The message he left was equally concise.

Look, princess, that kind of information is confidential. The state patrol and area enforcement officers will handle the case. Questions by vicarious thrill-seekers would only interfere. BTW, the number of forms I had to fill out last night more than makes up for any guilt I might have felt.

Your ever faithful civil servant,

Mitch Taylor

There. He clicked the send button and enjoyed a buoy of satisfaction that he had reminded her arrogant highness of her place in his life.

After that, Mitch dug into the paperwork on his desk. He worked steadily, ignoring the faint tickle at his nape. It was probably just his hormones working overtime. Casey Maynard had really gotten under his skin. He hadn’t quite felt sorry for her, but he’d felt for her.

Her grace. The delicate scent of her. That memorable shade of strawberry-gold hair. He might have found all of those things attractive. But she’d been so cold, so haughty.

So scared.

Mitch paused in his work. He leaned back and pressed his fist to his mouth. Is that what this was all about? She had needed him. For a few moments, anyway. When she’d been too weak to struggle. And later, when the blue-suits had walked in.

For a brief time, he’d gotten caught up in her need. He’d deluded himself into thinking she needed him.

He slammed his fist down on the desk, stirring papers and sloshing the dregs of his coffee. You’d think he’d learn. Hell. Jackie had needed him. She’d wanted someone solid and reliable to get her through those last days after her boyfriend had dumped her. A lot of people needed him because of his job. To protect and serve the citizens of the community. He was good at that.

But it could have been any decent guy. It could be any cop.

That’s why the princess was such an irritation. Wounded pride. He almost laughed. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel that in a long time. It was because of the bad day he’d been having, he rationalized. Casey Maynard had caught him at a weak moment.

Well, it wouldn’t happen again.

Mitch pulled out a handful of tissues and blotted at the coffee spots he had splashed across a memo. A blinking light out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. An incoming message on his e-mail.

Great. Just when he’d talked himself out of messing with her.

Mitch,

What kind of forms are you talking about? Police reports? I think it would be best to draw as little attention to me as possible. Please leave my name out of anything you file.

Casey

How about that? She’d deigned to move to a first name basis. He turned to the keyboard and answered her.

Princess,

Of course police reports. I discharged my weapon and investigated what I thought was a suspicious situation. It’s standard procedure. And your name is already on the dotted line.

Mitch

He pressed the send button and waited, almost relishing the anticipation of what she’d say in response. She didn’t disappoint.

“I didn’t ask you to come last night.” Several moments passed, and then another message appeared.

“What if I talk to Jimmy for you? Maybe we can forget the whole thing.”

Just what kind of pull did she think she had? Every officer, no matter what his rank, had to file reports whenever he used his weapon, whether it be against a perp or a door lock. Why did she think he’d change the rules for her?

Rules are rules. Talk to “Uncle Jimmy.” I think he’ll support me on this.

Mitch.

There was no pause this time.

“No! Don’t use my name. He’ll find me.”

“He’ll find you?” Mitch questioned aloud. He sent a brief message. “Who?”

He waited.

“Emmett Raines.”

“Who is Emmett Raines to you?” Mitch typed. “Did you think I was him?”

“Please!!!” she answered.

Mitch ran the name through his head and drew a blank. Maybe Emmett was an old boyfriend. She said he’d escaped. Maybe she saw enemies where none existed.

But the itch along his neck had him thinking otherwise. Real or not, her obvious fear dissipated the remnants of his anger. Reminding himself that it wasn’t his help she was seeking, he typed in a response.

“I’ll have one of my men look into it.”

He could almost feel her answer leap off the screen, as if he were talking to her in person and could read the expression in her eyes again.

No! Forget it! Just forget it! Don’t send anyone else to the house. Don’t come here again. And don’t call me princess!

What? The message ended abruptly, and he knew she’d signed off. Mitch stared mutely at the screen, wishing his own frustration could be transported across the modem links. He didn’t know what irritated him more, the idea that she thought she could dictate his actions and go over his head to his superior, or the discovery that she might be a little human like the rest of the world.

She didn’t like the nickname. She had gotten personal.

Their little e-mail interlude had left him as heated as last night’s face-to-face encounter. He could picture her eyes darkening along with her emotions. He could imagine that stubborn little chin pointing upward as she vented her fury on him.

He could see the fear in her posture as she stiffened her shoulders and tried not to let it show.

“Joe!” He bellowed for his lieutenant.

“Boss.”

“Sorry.” Mitch looked up guiltily, finding Joe waiting in the open doorway with his usual forgiving smile. “Emmett Raines. Check the wires. He just walked away from Jeff City. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”

“Anything in particular I should look for?” asked Joe.

“A connection to Jack or Casey Maynard. Something isn’t right.” He glanced at his computer screen. “I need to figure it out.”

Joe jotted the name on his notepad. He pointed to Mitch’s phone. “The commissioner’s on line two. I’ll get right on this.”

Mitch nodded his dismissal, punched the blinking light and picked up the receiver. “Commissioner Reed.”

A smooth, politic voice answered. “Mitch. I’ll forgo the pleasantries. We need to talk.”

“You’re damn right we need to.”

“WHO THE HELL does he think he is?” Casey muttered to herself, still stewing over her computer conversation with Mitch Taylor earlier that morning. The words on her monitor blurred together as her eyes glazed over. She removed her gold-rimmed reading glasses and rubbed at her tired eyes.

Normally, she found the content of medical articles an interesting read. But today it was simply a jumble of technical jargon that made little sense. Knowing she was ahead of her deadline, she saved the text she was editing and turned off the screen. Her clients shouldn’t be penalized for her inability to concentrate.

She slipped into her shoes and tied them, adjusting the platformed boot on her right heel before shifting onto her feet. Needing the extra support after last night’s uncustomary stress, she tightened the Velcro closures of her leg brace and walked over to the row of windows that gave a panoramic view of the backyard.

Judith’s husband, Ben, tended the pool house with efficient regularity, just as he had in her training days. But what had once been a symbol of her family’s success and personal triumphs now stood like a glass-domed testament to all she had lost.

Her dreams. Her family. Her faith.

She’d worked hard after the attack to get her body into shape. To teach herself how to walk again. Months of physical therapy in her private gym and in that pool had put her body back together as much as the shattered remnants of it would allow.

But no amount of training could restore her trust or heal her wounded heart.

Casey breathed in deeply and exhaled, fogging up the window in front of her. She rubbed the spot clear, acknowledging that her restlessness wasn’t entirely Mitch Taylor’s fault.

She missed the color that had once been part of her life. She missed the activity. She missed the demands she used to make on herself, the anticipation and reward of setting goals and achieving them.

But it could never be any other way. Especially now. She had to keep a lower profile than ever or he’d find her. Though he’d be smarter to run in the opposite direction, she knew Emmett Raines would come looking for her. She’d made a mistake once he wouldn’t allow her to make again.

The jangle of the front-gate buzzer made every muscle in her body tense until she looked over at the clock on the mantel—it was 12:10. The McDonalds were still here. She breathed again, consciously forcing herself to relax. Shoulders first. Biceps. Elbows. Wrists and hands.

Almost as soon as Casey was breathing normally again, Judith entered the library and announced, “Mr. James Reed is here to see you.”

Casey’s dread changed into a cautious smile. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Some habits die hard. Should I fix him lunch?”

The drawn look that had haunted Judith’s face eased a little with the arrival of company. For that, Casey was glad, even though she knew Jimmy’s visit would include a painful discussion on the subject of Emmett Raines. “I’ll ask. Go ahead and let him in through the kitchen.”

Minutes later, Police Commissioner James Reed, looking fit and dapper with his silver hair and charcoal suit, entered the library with a broad smile. “Cassandra.”

He met her halfway and gave her a stiff hug and a pat on the back. Holding herself on her good leg, Casey kissed his cheek and tightened her arms around his neck. “I’m glad to see you.”

He pushed away from her, holding her elbows in his palms. “I can only stay a few minutes. But I didn’t want to disappoint my favorite girl.”

He made her feel all of ten years old. She tried to match his smile but failed. “I thought you’d be here…sooner.”

From across the room, another voice answered in a dark, taunting baritone.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.”

Casey looked over Jimmy’s shoulder to the man filling the doorway. Mitch Taylor was even bigger than she remembered. The room shrank as he strode in. He stood a couple of inches taller than her Dutch uncle’s six feet, and she suspected the imposing dimensions of his chest and shoulders could be attributed more to the man than to the tailoring of his suit.

She lifted her chin to ward off the impact of his raw masculinity. Jimmy stepped aside, allowing Mitch’s whiskey-brown eyes to peruse her from head to toe. The warmth she experienced under his scrutiny left her feeling much more grown up than her uncle’s reassurances had.

Unaccustomed to having any man besides her doctors study her so thoroughly, and even more unfamiliar with the responding tension tingling along the surface of her skin, she angled away from him, automatically shielding the weak side of her body. “Captain.”

“How badly did I hurt you?” He spoke in a hushed rumble that shivered along her spine. The unexpected softening of his hard-edged expression did funny things to her pulse rate. She felt her own features relax.

“I’m a little…” Stiff and sore, she would have finished. But Jimmy’s patience with polite conversation had ended.

“You didn’t. She requires her cane or leg brace to walk.” His crude explanation shattered the illusion of compassion, and reminded Casey of the real problem at hand. She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin.

Without making direct eye contact herself, she saw Mitch look at Jimmy, then back at her. His on-the-job mask returned.

“You should be in a safe house. Or at the very least, under around-the-clock police protection.”

His back-to-business mode made it easier for her to summon her defenses. “I asked you not to come here.”

“No, you ordered me not to, princess.” He swung his gaze over to Jimmy. “But a higher authority prevailed.”

Acknowledging his cue with a nod, Jimmy took Casey by the upper arm and guided her toward the sofa. “We want to talk to you, Cassandra.”

Once she was situated, he sat beside her and clasped her left hand between both of his. Not a good sign. “I didn’t want you to know about Raines’s escape so soon, but now that you do, I want you to know that I’m taking care of everything. I put him away once, and I’ll put him away again. He won’t get any satisfaction coming after my family.” He climbed off his soapbox and gentled his tone. “I promised your father that I’d look after you. And I trust that Mitch is the man to help me do that.”

She glanced over at Mitch, who struggled to make himself fit in the brocaded wingback chair across from her. He shook his head as though he already doubted the wisdom of this so-called plan.

Definitely not a good sign. She looked back at Jimmy, only half-joking with her question. “What, you’re going to send him over to the house and have him scare me to death every night?”

Jimmy’s hands tightened around her own. “No, dear. I’m assigning him to be your bodyguard.”

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