A killer’s obsession could destroy their second chance for love.

A Love on the Edge romance.

Only a year ago, Officer Alex Juran and his wife Tess had it all. Love, a solid marriage and a baby on the way. Then in one heartbeat they lost everything.

Now, Tess is doing her best to move on. She has a thriving business and while she may be lonely at times, she’s proud of the new life she’s built without Alex.

Two days before their divorce is final, Alex is shot in the line of duty and left for dead. He faces a difficult recovery so Tess finds herself postponing the divorce and offering to care for him until he can live alone again.

At first, cohabitation is little more than combat. Alex’s incapacitating injuries, the looming divorce, and his inability to remember who shot him have him lashing out at the nearest target: Tess. When someone begins stalking her, he suspects his shooter has returned. Convinced that Tess is in danger, Alex becomes desperate to recover his strength.

Because no matter how much she’s hurt him in the past, they’ve been given a second chance—and he’ll do anything to protect his wife.

Warning: This book does not come with a box of Kleenex, so please grab one before you start reading. Contains two people struggling to learn to love again along with graphic sex, explicit violence and realistic language. And some very hot cops.

eBooks are not transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

Obsession

Copyright © 2009 by Sharon Cullen

ISBN: 978-1-60504-537-5

Edited by Deborah Nemeth

Cover by Scott Carpenter

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2009

www.samhainpublishing.com

Obsession

Sharon Cullen

Dedication

To the spouses of police officers everywhere, this book is for you. For all the nights you’ve waited up worrying. For all the holidays you’ve had to celebrate by yourself. For the home fires you’ve kept burning. For your support and dedication to the men and women who keep us safe, God bless you.

And for John. For fighting the good fight. For serving and protecting. I love you.

Chapter One

Alex Juran’s breath condensed on the cold night air. He adjusted the brim of his John Deere cap and tucked his chin into his thin coat, straining to hear past the sounds of traffic a few blocks away and the mournful horn of a barge chugging down the river.

The scrape of a boot against the ice-encrusted blacktop had him twisting around in time to see a shadow emerge from between the two warehouses. Alex released some of the tension in his shoulders when Jason sauntered forward, all teenage bravado and rich-boy entitlement.

“You got the stuff?” Alex asked.

“You got the money?” Jason’s eyes darted around.

Alex reached for the wad of cash in his back pocket just as another shape materialized beside Jason. Fingers on the cash, Alex paused, his heart damn near pounding out of his chest. His gaze jumped between Jason and the newcomer.

“Jason here told me you’re interested in dealing.”

“Yeah?” Alex narrowed his eyes. The voice sounded familiar, but the shadows revealed only a tall shape. Runner’s build. Above-average height. Educated voice. Authoritative.

“Why?” came the disembodied question.

Alex slowly withdrew his hand from his back pocket. “I have an old lady with expensive tastes,” he said on a shrug. “Need the extra cash.”

The guy chuckled and walked into the light. Immediately Alex knew why he’d recognized the voice and he sucked in a cold breath of shock.

“Take your hat off.” Roger Sheffield—his brother-in-law—stepped forward and knocked the cap off Alex’s head. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“My thoughts exactly,” Alex said.

For half a second, a freakin’ half a second, Alex pulled his gaze from Roger’s hands to look into his eyes. Before he could take another cold breath, Roger was pointing a Beretta at him.

Alex stepped back and raised his hands waist high, his heart beating hard. “I’m not armed, man.”

“You brought me a cop, Jason? A cop?” Roger said over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know.” Jason’s panicked voice came to him through the darkness. “I swear. I didn’t know.”

Sirens broke through the thick silence. Roger’s eyes darted like a cornered animal. His lips curled, and Alex knew with gut-clenching certainty he was staring at death.

He lunged for the gun but Roger twisted, sliding out of Alex’s hold. The sound of a gunshot echoed and bounced off the metal sides of the surrounding warehouses. The bullet slammed into Alex’s Kevlar vest, forcing him backward and knocking the breath out of him. He rolled to avoid the second shot but searing pain ripped through his knee. Two more shots exploded and Jason cried out.

The sirens grew louder. Closer.

Alex clutched his knee. Warm blood oozed through his fingers, soaking his jeans, making his hands slick.

The world faded to gray. His body convulsed in pain. Jason. Where the hell was Jason? He raised his head and searched the shadows and slush. Jason lay two feet from him, his glassy eyes staring at nothing.

With a groan, Alex’s head fell to the pavement. He stared up at stars that pulsed and glimmered as soft snow began to fall.

So this was how it was gonna end, huh? Lying on the wet ground between two dirty warehouses?

Tess’s face wavered in front of him and he tried to reach for her, wanting to feel her skin against his fingertips one last time.

His partner’s face suddenly appeared. “Hang in there, AJ. Help’s comin’.” Tony pressed his hand to Alex’s shattered knee. Alex to rolled to his side and bit his lip to keep from crying out. His vision dimmed and he fought to stay conscious.

“Tony… Tell Tess…”

Tony shook his bald head. “No way, bro. Tell ’er yourself.”

“Shef…” Alex choked on his own spit and coughed.

“Where’s the ambulance?” Tony bellowed behind him.

All around them, officers yelled and cursed. Pulsing red lights lit the sides of the warehouses. The wail of sirens abruptly stopped.

He fought the black waves lapping at his conscience.

More sirens. Probably the ambulance this time.

Too late.

Chapter Two

Tess lunged off the bed and raced through the dark house. Her black lab, Othello, ran beside her, his nails clicking in time to her pulse. Grabbing the edge of the kitchen doorframe with one hand, Tess slapped at the light switch with the other. Canister lights flared, illuminating the kitchen and ten layers of Saran-wrapped wedding cake in various stages of decoration.

She collapsed against the wall, her body shaking in silent laughter. Such a stupid dream, but it had seemed so real.

The bride had been ready to throw the bouquet. The clutch of white flowers went sailing through the air, and who should jump out of the crowd but Alex, his arm outstretched, reaching for the flowers. Tess could only stare in mute horror as her soon-to-be ex-husband dove for the bouquet and landed in the cake.

She shook her head and turned off the light. Freud would have a heyday with the symbolism of that dream.

“Come on, O. Back to bed.” She headed for her bedroom, glancing through the living room at the illuminated clock on her cable box. Only two more hours of sleep before she had to start on the pies. Then she had to whip up several batches of cookies for a diner and complete Debra’s cake. A hectic day, but she loved every minute she spent creating and designing desserts for Tess’s Temptations.

She crawled under the still warm covers and curled into a ball with Othello at her back, pushing away the loneliness that haunted her in the lonely hours of the early morning. She didn’t know why she missed Alex the most at this time of the day. It wasn’t like he was ever here when they were married. She’d slept alone just as much then as she did now.

Just as she began to drift into sleep, Othello growled. The sound of the doorbell pealed through the silent house and the dog bounded off the bed like a shot, running into the living room and barking loud enough to wake the dead.

With shaking hands, Tess pushed the heavy covers off. The doorbell rang again. She padded quietly down the hall and walked a wide path around the front door to press her back to the wall next to the window. Pushing the heavy drapes aside, she peered into the cold December night at a blue-and-white police cruiser parked behind her white catering van.

She covered her mouth with a fist and took a step back.

If something happens to me, the chief won’t call. He’ll tell you in person, Alex had always said.

She took another step from the window and then another, her heart beating unevenly, the blood in her veins moving at warp speed.

The chief wouldn’t be here. She and Alex were no longer living together. Sure, they were still married, but only for a few more days. Surely, he wasn’t here to—

The doorbell rang a third time and Othello barked so hard his front paws came off the ground.

“Tess, it’s Tony.”

Recognizing Alex’s partner’s voice, Othello whined and scratched at the door.

Tess relaxed marginally. So it wasn’t the chief. Just Tony Blankenship.

“Mrs. Juran? It’s Chief Foster. Could you please open the door?”

Oh, God. She swiped at her tears with trembling hands and took a few short steps to the door to turn the deadbolt.

Tony pushed his way in before she could get the door open and Chief Foster stepped forward, his white hair sticking up, his face still bearing the wrinkles of his sheets. “Mrs. Juran—”

“No.” Tess shook her head and glanced blindly at Tony.

“Mrs. Juran, I’m sorry to inform you that at twenty-three hundred hours this evening Officer Juran was shot in the line of duty.”

“No,” she whispered. She looked into Tony’s eyes—brown eyes that usually bore laughter but now held only grief.

Her knees gave way and Tony grabbed for her.

Not Alex. Please, God, anything but that.

***

The lights of the hospital parking lot illuminated the snowflakes drifting down to earth as people scurried about, dodging the half-frozen puddles.

Through the reflection of the glass Tess could see the officers behind her, crowded into the waiting room. The chief stood to one side conferring with the sergeants and lieutenants. On her other side Tony sat in a chair, his bald, dark-skinned head cradled in his hands.

She rolled her forehead against the cold glass and closed her eyes.

All the way to the hospital the cruiser’s siren had wailed a passage through the sparse traffic and Tess had prayed she’d make it in time to see Alex. To tell him… She didn’t know what she wanted to tell him. They hadn’t spoken in months, and she’d had this need to see him and speak to him. But when they arrived, Alex had already been taken into surgery and she hadn’t been given that chance.

She pushed away from the window and wove through the officers, unable to look anyone in the eye, afraid she’d fall apart if she did. She sank into the chair next to Tony.

He opened one eye and looked at her. “Doin’ okay?”

She nodded, shook her head, then nodded again.

“Yeah, me too.”

She bent forward, tunneling her fingers through her hair. “Tell me what happened.”

“Alex was meeting his contact in a drug ring he’d been trying to infiltrate.” Tony drew his legs back and sat up.

“What happened?”

“It got all fucked up. We heard shots.”

“How many?”

“Two. Three.”

She struggled to breathe, feeling as if a hand was squeezing the air out of her lungs. “Why, Tony? Why narcotics? He said he’d never leave patrol.”

Tony shrugged. “He wasn’t himself after… He wanted a change. Something different.”

He wasn’t himself after she’d kicked him out. And why not say it? It was the truth, wasn’t it? She’d kicked him out. The reasons on the divorce papers would read “incompatibility”, but it hadn’t always been that way.

“Mrs. Juran?” A man in wrinkled scrubs and mussed hair stood with one hand on the open door of the waiting room.

Tess stood on shaky legs. He came forward. Deep lines of fatigue etched his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot and watery behind his glasses.

He held his hand out to her. “Dr. Sullivan. There’s a room down the hall that’s a little more private.”

He turned to go, but Tess snagged his elbow.

“Alex?” She cleared her throat. “Is he…?

He hesitated. “He’s out of surgery and in recovery.”

Tess nodded and followed him out the door. Alex was alive for now. That’s all she would concentrate on.

Dr. Sullivan led her to a chair identical to the ones in the room she’d just left.

“He’s a lucky man.” The doctor settled into the chair across from her. “Thankfully he was wearing his vest. There’s bruising in the chest area but no broken ribs, which is a plus, considering. The other bullet damaged the knee joint and nicked the popliteal artery causing him to lose a substantial amount of blood. We’ve stopped the bleeding and have been giving him infusions. When he stabilizes, we’ll replace the knee.”

Tess tried to concentrate but her thoughts kept scattering. Alex’s knee. Bullet. Damage.

“Mrs. Juran?”

She blinked. “Yes?”

“I know this is a lot to take in.”

She nodded. She should ask questions but didn’t know what to ask. She felt helpless, alone and so scared. “He’s going to be okay? He’ll live?”

“The next few hours are critical, but all indications are good. He’s strong and in great shape and that will help.”

She closed her eyes. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

***

Tess stood inside the recovery room. Curtains separated the large room into smaller segments. Monitors beeped while nurses scurried back and forth and doctors conferred with patients’ families in hushed tones. In the center of it all stood the nurses’ station like central command during a battle.

“This way.” A kind, plump nurse motioned for Tess to follow her through the controlled chaos.

“Talk to him,” she said over her shoulder, deftly swerving in and out of clumps of people. “Touch him. Let him know you’re here.” She avoided a near collision with another nurse pushing a cart. “He’s been taken off the respirator but is still heavily sedated. He might hear you. He may even wake enough to see you, but he won’t be able to talk.” She stopped and pushed a curtain aside.

Tess hesitated, then poked her head in.

Alex.

His leg was swathed in bandages—from the top of his thigh to his toes—and nestled in a metal contraption with tubes sticking out of both sides and wires connecting him to various machines.

His eyes were closed, his lips pale and chapped. His sable-colored hair, usually worn high and tight, almost touched his shoulders. Although he was a big guy, the machines and tubes made him seem smaller. Vulnerable. Defenseless. He’d hate that. To think he looked anything but strong and confident.

Tess stepped up to the bed and brushed his hair away from his face to reveal more bruises. She touched his cheek as tears blurred her vision. Slowly she sank into the chair next to his bed and twined her fingers in his.

***

Alex opened his eyes and blinked several times, but nothing came into focus except the woman standing at the foot of the bed.

At first he thought he was dreaming. Why would Tess be here? And why was she crying? Then he saw his leg hanging in the air and wrapped in bandages. Something beeped behind his head and the memory of being shot came racing back, yet strangely he seemed disconnected from it.

Against his will his eyes closed, the exhaustion pulling him under.

When he awakened again he had no idea how much time had passed. He looked for Tess, but couldn’t find her. Had she been just a dream? Was this his hell, seeing Tess but not being able to touch her? If so, he’d been living it for months.

Something tickled his arm but he couldn’t move his head to look, so he shifted his gaze to the right. She was sitting in a chair beside him, her cheek resting on the sheets, her bright red hair trailing over the bed to touch his arm. His hand was curled in hers and she was caressing the back of it with her thumb.

“Mrs. Juran?”

Tess turned her head to look behind her and the ends of her hair grazed his hand. His fingers moved—slightly at first, then with more strength. He stared hard at them, willing them to move, and soon he was clutching her hair.

“We need you to step out for a moment,” someone said.

The words dragged his attention to Tess’s face.

Her hand slid from his but when she tried to stand, his hold on her hair pulled her back. She tugged it free. He forced his fingers to close over the few strands that remained.

“Can I stay a little longer?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

Tess turned back and kissed his temple. Her hair fell in his eyes and the strawberry scent of her shampoo surrounded him. “I’ll be back,” she whispered in his ear.

He tried to reach for her, to grab her hand, but she disappeared before he could get his muscles to work.

***

Tess ran a shaking hand through her hair and leaned against the wall outside recovery.

“Tess?” Her brother-in-law, Roger Sheffield, stepped up beside her. “We came as soon as we heard. Shannon’s in the waiting room. She’s… Well. Upset.” He glanced away, looking haggard and concerned, his face pale, his lips bloodless.

Tess nodded, too close to tears to speak. She appreciated their support, but wasn’t up to dealing with her sister’s hysterics at the moment and wished they would have just stayed home.

“How is he?” Roger asked.

“It’s bad.”

“Is he awake?”

She shook her head and repeated to Roger what the doctor had told her about the knee and the vest that had saved his life.

“He was wearing a vest?” Roger asked.

She nodded and rubbed her temple where a headache was forming.

“He’ll live then?”

“If he can get through the next few hours.” She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Roger was gone.

Chapter Three

Alex existed in a haze. Awake, yet not awake. Aware, but not really caring. The continuous beep of the monitors above his head should have been annoying, but instead they were comforting. At least then he knew he was alive.

Occasionally, he tried to open his eyes, but found it easier just to float.

Sometimes he heard Tess’s voice and the monitors changed their beat. Grew stronger, faster. He thought he’d talked to her once, but couldn’t be sure.

“You should have died, Juran.”

Alex jerked. The monitors made a screeching sound. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed weighted down—like he was in a dream and couldn’t wake up. Except he knew this wasn’t a dream. You didn’t smell in dreams and he could smell this guy.

Old cigarettes and fear.

“You’re delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

The person leaned in, tickling Alex’s ear with his smoker’s breath.

Scenes flashed behind his eyelids. Metal warehouses. Jason. A John Deere cap.

“Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”

The voice pushed buttons inside him. He turned his head. The orange flare of a firing gun flashed through his mind. Blinding pain. Darkness. Tess.

“Sir!”

Alex jumped. That voice belonged to the nurse who’d been taking care of him.

“Sir, you’re not supposed to be in here. You’ll have to leave.”

The scrape of the man’s shoe and the suddenly fresh air indicated he’d stepped back.

The nurse harrumphed and Alex felt the cool touch of her fingers on his wrist. The monitors resumed their normal beat. A wave of exhaustion threatened to pull him under but his mind rebelled. Where had he heard that voice before?

“There you go, Mr. Juran. Just gave you something to help you sleep.” She patted his arm.

Black clouds of unconsciousness rushed in.

***

Tess woke with sandpaper eyes and a cotton-ball mouth. She sat up, pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at the clock. Ten a.m.

Shoving Othello off her legs, she scrambled out of bed and raced into the shower. In record time she was in the kitchen gulping a glass of orange juice. Last night she’d had every intention of staying at the hospital but Tony and the doctors had insisted she go home and rest. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and she hadn’t meant to sleep at all, let alone so late.

Waiting for her toast to pop up, her toes tapped an uneven rhythm on the terra cotta floor and her eyes fell on the calendar attached to the refrigerator.

Tomorrow was the final proceedings for her divorce. Her divorce. She’d always thought of it that way. Not Alex’s. Not even theirs. Hers. Her stomach rolled as it did every time she thought of walking into court and ending her marriage, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. Except now she had more to consider. Alex’s injury. Whether he was going to live and what his life was going to be like if—when—he recovered. Could she do this to him? Now?

Ever?

She grabbed the phone and dialed her attorney’s home number before she could second guess herself.

“’Lo,” the groggy voice answered on the fourth ring.

“Marlene? It’s Tess. Sorry to bother you at home on a Sunday.”

“Tess?”

Tess heard movement on the other side and a distinctive male voice. “Sorry, Marlene. You, um, sound busy.”

“No, no. Not at all. What’s up, Tess?”

Black toast popped out of the toaster and she stared at it, forming the words in her mind before she said them. “Alex was shot Friday night.”

Marlene hissed in a breath. “Oh my God, Tess. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

The odor of burnt bread made her stomach turn. She threw her breakfast to the dog, who immediately pounced on it, then she unplugged the toaster and shoved the appliance into the cabinet.

“I can’t go through with this while Alex is hurt, Marlene.”

“Tess—”

“No.” She shook her head even though Marlene couldn’t see it. “I won’t do that to him. I won’t end our marriage while he’s like this.” Is that the only reason? Just because he’s in the hospital? Or is it an excuse? Because even though he’d torn her heart apart with his indifference and his absences, deep down she still loved him. That was brought home to her when she was racing to the hospital, praying he was still alive.

“All right,” Marlene said on a sigh. “I’ll call the judge, he can contact Alex’s attorney.”

“Thanks, Marlene.”

“Hang in there, Tess. We’ll get you through this.”

Tess hung up and rubbed her eyes but all she could picture was Alex hooked up to those machines, tubes coming out of his leg and bags of medicine dripping into his arm.

A divorce was one thing, but Alex’s death would rip a hole inside her that all the pain that had come before couldn’t even begin to compare to.

***

Alex opened his eyes to find himself looking out a wide window where dark gray clouds heavy with snow hovered in the distance.

The absence of the machines plunged the room into an uncomfortable quiet. His throat hurt, as if he’d swallowed a watermelon whole. He licked dry lips and tasted stale rubber. God, he could use a drink right now. A tall, ice-cold beer.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” A nurse walked in with a big smile and a stethoscope wrapped around her neck. “Welcome back, Officer Juran. There are a lot of people waiting to talk to you.”

Alex licked his lips with a dry tongue. “Water.” His voice sounded like two arguing bullfrogs and even that short word tired him out.

“Coming right up.”

The wet glub-glub of pouring water had his mouth salivating. Nurse Perky shoved a cup with a straw under his nose and he drank deeply.

She pulled the cup away. Water sprayed his face and he jerked back.

“Sorry, not too much at once. When that settles you can have more.”

She raised the head of his bed and he was faced with a wall of flower arrangements and dancing balloons. Bits and pieces of the last several days drifted back to him, but a complete picture refused to form. “What day is it?”

She fiddled with the IVs. “Monday, December twelfth.” She started humming the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas”.

Alex went still. “What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Officer Juran, are you in pain?”

He laughed, a short bark of sound that scraped his already raw throat. Pain came in many forms. Over the last several days he’d felt physical pain like he’d never felt before and never wanted to feel again. Over the past six months, he’d discovered a completely different sort of pain.

Yeah, he was in pain all right.

“I’m fine,” he managed.

“You want me to open the curtains a little more? Looks like we’ll be getting snow. A white Christmas for sure.”

Alex shook his head.

“Okay, then. Just use this little button here—” she picked up a gray box attached to a wire,“—to call me if you need anything.”

Alex stared out the window, watching the heavy clouds drift in, and tried not to think that his marriage had ended sometime in the last hour. Shit. He didn’t think it would be like this. This emptiness. It wasn’t like they’d been living together or anything. He’d been out of the house for six months. And, yeah, he’d admit that they’d grown apart before that, but he’d never expected her to actually go through with the divorce.

The door opened again and a petite woman with a cap of gray hair walked in. “Hello, Mr. Juran.” She walked over to the bed and held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Ford. I worked on that knee of yours. How’s it feel?”

“I don’t feel anything.” If only his mind was as numb as his leg.

“That’s normal. When the pain meds wear off, you’ll feel it. Tell the nurse and she’ll give you more.” Dr. Ford sat in the chair next to his bed. “So,” she said, looking around. “Where’s Mrs. Juran?”

Alex blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We need to talk about your recovery and it’d be best if Mrs. Juran were here.”

“Mrs. Juran won’t be here today.” She’s too busy ending our marriage while I’m laid up in the hospital with a bum knee.

“But she said—”

“She’s not coming.”

Dr. Ford looked confused.

“Look, Doctor, just tell me what’s going on with my knee.” Anything would be better than thinking of Tess and the divorce.

She shifted in her chair. “The bullet hit your knee, nicking the artery and shattering the bone. After the artery was fixed and your condition stabilized, we replaced the knee.”

The doctor began a long litany of things he should and should not expect over the next several days and months, but all he heard was replace the knee. Good God, his knee? What the hell? He knew he’d been shot in the knee, had figured an artery had been hit and he’d probably bleed out before help arrived. But after he’d woken up, he’d hoped it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

His knee.

Gone.

Shattered.

Like his marriage. How ironic.

He waved the doctor’s words away with a swipe of his hand. “What about my job? When can I go back to work?”

She shifted again and looked uneasy. “I’d really prefer it if Mrs.—”

“Look,” he ground out, “Mrs. Juran isn’t returning.” There wasn’t a Mrs. Juran anymore but he’d be damned if he told her that. “When can I go back to work?”

Her eyes met his. The scent of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol mixed with the flowers made him feel sick to his stomach, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the odors in the room.

“We won’t know for at least four months,” she said.

“So in four months I can go back?”

“In four months we’ll re-evaluate the situation.”

“So it could take longer? Say, six months?”

She looked at him with sad eyes.

“Tell me.” His voice sounded rough and he thought of that beer somewhere out there with his name on it.

“You may never return to police work, Mr. Juran. I’m sorry.”

Alex closed his eyes. Oh, yeah, there were different kinds of pain, and his had just taken a whole new turn.

He opened his eyes and stared at the happy-face balloons and the banners on the flower arrangements demanding he “get well soon”.

In one day, he’d lost his wife, his career. His life.

Dr. Ford’s beeper went off. She looked at the screen and muttered something. “I have to take this call. I’ll be right back so we can discuss this further. Maybe by then Mrs. Juran will be back.” She hurried out the door.

He gritted his teeth, half wishing he hadn’t been wearing his vest and the bullet had entered his heart. He’d rather meet death head-on because it would be a hell of a lot easier than living his life without Tess and without the career he loved.

The door opened again and he looked up, expecting Dr. Ford.

It was Tess who stood in the doorway, the lights from the outside hall backlighting her.

God, she was beautiful. Her long red hair was done up in what she laughingly called a messy bun. A short brown turtleneck sweater just barely met her form-fitting, well-worn jeans. She held a can of root beer—her favorite drink—nearly crushing the aluminum in her tight grip. “Hello, Alex.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hurt everywhere and some perverse part of him wanted her to hurt just as much. Of course, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t hurt her enough in the past. After all, it was why she’d kicked him out and filed for divorce.

She lifted her chin. “Has Dr. Ford been in yet?”

“What do you care?”

She looked pale, the freckles on her nose more prominent. “I care,” she said in that soft voice she used when he’d been overly harsh with her. A tone he’d heard more and more often in the end.

The door opened again—honestly, the hospital administration should make it revolving—and Tony strolled in. “Hey, my man, rumor had it you’d decided to rejoin the living.”

Tony looked at Tess, then back to Alex, apparently sensing the tightly strung emotions between them. “Uh, you want me to leave?”

Alex eyed Tony’s BDUs and attempted to ignore Tess, who stood awkwardly on the other side of the room. “Tell me you’ve got a beer in one of those deep pockets for me, Blankenship.”

“Yeah, right. With the meds you’re on? What, you have a death wish?”

Alex didn’t laugh. Maybe. Probably.

“So…” Tony sauntered over to the bed. “Thought I’d get to you before the chief and LT.”

“Yeah?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Spill it. What happened the other night that everything got so fucked up?”

Alex looked at him, his mind a blank.

“Who the hell shot you, partner? Who killed your contact?”

“Tony, I don’t think this is the time,” Tess said from far away.

But Alex wasn’t paying attention. Beyond the actual bullet and what it had done to him, he hadn’t had time to think about what went down that night. He remembered walking through the warehouses, the adrenaline swimming through him, and the long, low bellow of a riverboat. He remembered meeting up with Jason and he recalled the pain of the bullet as it ripped through his knee, rolling to avoid the shot to his chest, waiting for the ambulance.

What he didn’t remember was who shot him and who killed Jason.

Chapter Four

“Out!” Dr. Ford’s voice rang above the chief’s, the lieutenant’s, Tony’s and several detectives Tess didn’t recognize.

They all looked at the doctor as if amazed anyone had the balls to interrupt them. The doctor pushed the lieutenant on the shoulder and pulled the chief by his sleeve. The others followed, meek as lambs, until the room was empty except for her, Dr. Ford and Alex.

Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead. Dark smudges circled his eyes and bruises dotted his face. Tess wanted to go to him but stayed where she was, too afraid to make that first move.

With the room finally quiet, Dr. Ford turned to Tess. “You can stay, Mrs. Juran.”

“No.” Alex opened his eyes and rolled his head in Tess’s direction. “She needs to leave too.”

Their gazes collided, his filled with anger and pain.

“Alex, please don’t do this.”

He closed his eyes again and turned away.

“Alex—”

“I don’t want her here,” he said to the doctor. “Make her leave.”

Dr. Ford looked at the floor while Tess stared at her husband. She’d known he was bitter and angry over what he considered her abandonment of their marriage, but hadn’t realized how deeply she had hurt him when she asked him to leave six months ago. She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Quietly she stepped forward and placed a tube of lip balm on the bed beside his hand and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

The group who’d been pushed out of Alex’s room stood in a huddle farther down the hall.

Roger leaned a shoulder on the wall next to her. “I heard he was awake.”

“Yeah.” Tess rubbed her tired eyes and moved her feet so a janitor wouldn’t roll over them with his mop bucket.

“I also heard he can’t remember.”

Alex’s announcement that he couldn’t remember what happened the night he’d been shot was what had caused the uproar and the subsequent removal of everyone in his room.

“What’s the doctor saying?” Roger asked.

“We haven’t spoken yet.” Because half the brass in the police department had crowded in. Crowded her out. She shouldn’t be surprised. After all, the force was what had driven them apart. That it was happening again should have been expected.

She understood why everyone was concerned. Alex’s shooter was out there and probably knew Alex was alive. Had Alex seen his face? Was the identity of the murderer locked somewhere in Alex’s mind?

“Mrs. Juran?” Dr. Ford approached. “We need to discuss Mr. Juran’s recovery. Do you have a minute?”

Tess nodded. After the humiliating incident in Alex’s room, she was surprised the doctor would want to speak to her. Dr. Ford glanced at the knot of uniforms, then motioned Tess into an empty room.

“Maybe I should go with you.” Roger pushed away from the wall.

Remembering how alone she’d felt when she talked to the ER doctor, Tess agreed. Roger wasn’t her first choice, but he was family, and right now Tess didn’t trust herself to think clearly enough to make the right decisions.

When they were settled, Dr. Ford said, “Does Mr. Juran have any other family?”

Cheeks burning in embarrassment, Tess shook her head. “Just me, even though he would deny that.”

“Yes, well.” Dr. Ford looked away, then back. “He’ll need someone to care for him once he’s released. To take him to his doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. He won’t be able to get around very well for a while.”

“There’s no one else,” she said. “I guess it will have to be me.” If Alex would even let her take care of him.

The doctor touched her knee. “He’s been traumatized. Both his body and his mind. Sometimes that leads people to say—”

“Thank you, Doctor, but Alex was angry with me long before this.”

The doctor pressed her lips together and nodded. “Very well. Let’s talk about his injuries. Mr. Juran suffers from Critical Incident Amnesia. Which is a fancy way of saying he doesn’t remember what happened the night he was shot.”

“None of it?” Roger asked.

“Bits and pieces. This is common in victims who have suffered a stressful experience. Especially police officers. It’s worse for them because more often than not some important piece of information is locked in their minds. Something that might be critical to a case.”

Like the identity of a killer.

“Usually patients recover their full memory after a good night’s rest, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here,” Dr. Ford said.

“Will he ever remember?” Roger asked.

“The mind is a tricky thing. Only time will tell.”

***

Alex was staring out the window, turning the stick of lip balm in his hand when his door opened again. He ignored whoever it was. For the past several hours he’d been reliving the night he’d been shot. Or trying to. He could get so far, to the point where Jason arrived, then his mind jumped to being shot. Everything in between was gone, no matter how hard he tried to remember. Forcing it seemed to make it worse, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Alex?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped and he squeezed the lip balm. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“No.”

“Officer Juran, we need to discuss your recuperation,” Dr. Ford said.

“She doesn’t need to be here for that.” He still hadn’t turned to them, was still staring at the heavy gray clouds that didn’t seem to move. The lip balm had helped. His lips had been so sore and chapped. Tess always did seem to know exactly what he needed. Or at least she had at one point. And he had known what she had needed too. Until everything went to hell and somehow they’d lost the ability.

Or stopped caring.

He heard Tess sigh and shuffle her feet.

“If all goes well,” the doctor said, “you’ll be released in a few days. You can’t live alone.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Stay with me, Alex,” Tess said. “Let me help you.”

He jerked his head around. “No.” Hell no.

“Alex, be reasonable.”

His gaze swung to the doctor. “What about Drake Center? That rehab place? I’m sure I’ll need some sort of rehab.”

Dr. Ford was shaking her head before he even finished. “Yes, you need rehab but not the inpatient kind. Mrs. Juran—”

“I’m not staying with her!”

Tess looked at him, her face pale, her eyes so damn sad. There’d been a point in his life, years of his life, where he would have done anything to erase such sadness inside her. To know that he still wanted to, even after she’d given up on them, made him angry.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Tess said. “I know this is the last thing you want, but—”

“What about Tony? I’ll stay with Tony.”

“Tony lives on the fourth floor, with no elevator.”

“Stairs are out of the question,” Dr. Ford said.

“I’ll move.”

“Alex—”

He pointed a finger at her. “No one asked you to be here. You’re through with me, remember?”

She stepped forward and her pale complexion fired up to bright red. It’d been a long time since he’d seen this side of Tess. He always did like it when she got spitting mad. “I believe you were the one who asked for me—”

“Like hell!” But he knew he had. That he remembered.

“Like hell, nothing, Alexandre Juran.” She took another step closer. Man, she was magnificent. “You asked for me, called for me. When the ambulance took you to the helicopter, while in the emergency room, while waiting to go into surgery, you called for me. Who’s been here all these days and nights by your side? Me.” She pounded her chest with her fist.

“That’s enough.” Dr. Ford stepped between them, her arms raised out to her sides as if separating two wrestlers. She turned to Alex. “You have to stay with Mrs. Juran. You can’t live by yourself. You can’t even drive. Who’ll take you to your doctor’s appointments and physical therapy? Mr. Juran, you have no other options.”

***

Tess positioned the walker in the opened passenger van door.

“Get that thing the hell out of my face,” Alex snarled.

She nudged the contraption with a bump of her hip. “I may be strong, but I won’t be able to catch you if you fall on your face.”

With a growl, he hoisted himself out and grabbed the walker. He hated it, despised it. Wanted to burn it and dance a jig while the damn thing incinerated. But he couldn’t dance and he couldn’t walk without its support.

He eyed the distance between the van and the house and began his awkward shuffle to the front porch, Tess beside him every painful step of the way. It’d been four days since they’d told him he had to live with Tess during his recovery. As if he were some damn invalid who couldn’t make a decision on his own. Of course as soon as he was given his walker and had attempted to walk, he’d known what a fool he’d been. Not that he’d admitted it and not that he would anytime soon either.

This wasn’t at all the way he envisioned his homecoming.

Yeah. That was him all right. Home for the holidays.

Shit.

The door swung open before Tess could put her key in the lock, and Roger stepped out.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex all but growled.

Roger looked him over with a critical eye. Tess’s sister rushed forward, opening the door wider. “Roger thought you might need some help.” She took hold of his arm in an attempt to help him.

Alex glanced over her pregnant belly then back to Roger before he pulled away and gripped the walker. “I’m fine.”

The three stood back as he placed the walker in the entryway then heaved himself up the small step. He shoved away the image of the thousands of times he’d bounded into this house, never giving that small raised piece of concrete a second thought.

Roger watched him in silence and Alex scowled. “This isn’t a damn freak show.”

Shannon touched his arm. “I’m sorry this happened.”

Alex shoved down the urge to shake her hand away, realizing he was being an ass to Tess’s family. Although they weren’t his favorite people, he usually tolerated Shannon’s theatrics because she was Tess’s sister, but the two of them were grating on his last nerve.

“We should go,” Roger said quietly. “Tess, let us know if you need anything.”

A stiff wind blew in from the open door and Alex shivered as he made his way into the living room. It felt good to be home.

Home.

The house he and Tess had picked out together and decorated together. His apartment had never been home to him. Just a place to park his ass between shifts.

It looked the same. Except the photos of the two of them were gone. His anger multiplied at the thought that she’d shoved their pictures in a drawer somewhere because she was so damn eager to be rid of him. And now here he was, back at the house. An invalid.

“I’m sorry.” Tess closed the door. “I didn’t ask them here.”

He didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what the hell to say to her anymore. Before she’d asked him to leave there had been nothing but stony silence between them. It’d been a long time since they’d had a decent conversation.

She sighed, apparently frustrated as always with his lack of communication, and went down the hall to free Othello.

His dog ran toward him and for the first time since waking in the hospital, Alex smiled. “The Big O! How ya doin’, boy?” He scratched behind the dog’s ear. Othello squirmed in ecstasy and pressed his large body into Alex’s good leg.

“You should rest.” Tess stared at the dog and crossed her arms.

“Don’t baby me.” He straightened. Othello butted his hand and licked his fingers.

“Well,” Tess said. “Okay. Are you hungry, then?”

“I could eat.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and Othello followed, looking back at Alex with hopeful brown eyes.

“I’m coming,” he muttered, grabbing the handles of the walker.

He whistled when he entered the kitchen. For as long as he could remember, Tess had wanted a new oven and refrigerator for her small catering business. Now a stainless steel gas oven stood in place of the old one. The refrigerator had been swapped for a restaurant-sized double-door job. Canister lights lit an island work area as big as the bathroom in his apartment. Cherry cabinets, granite counters and a terra cotta floor completed the rehab.

He lowered himself into a kitchen chair. Same table and chairs. The set they’d picked out together shortly after they got married. He ran his hand over the scarred surface. At least she’d kept the table and chairs.

“Business must be good,” he said.

“Pretty good.” She opened a cabinet and took out some plates.

“I like what you’ve done.”

“Thanks.”

There was a long silence as Othello settled his head in Alex’s lap and Alex stroked his ears. “So, Shannon’s pregnant again.”

“Yes.” Tess pulled bread out of a built-in breadbox that hadn’t been there before.

“How many does this make?”

“Four.” She reached for the peanut butter then opened the fridge for the jelly. She slathered several pieces of bread with the peanut butter and jelly, and placed two sandwiches on a plate. She’d always loved to bake but cooking hadn’t been her favorite.

“Does it bother you?”

“I’m fine with it.” Grabbing the plate and a bag of chips in one hand, she opened the fridge again, took out two cans, and kicked the door closed. She placed everything but her root beer in front of him.

Alex took hold of her hand before she had a chance to escape to the other side of the kitchen. A panicked look crossed her face but she didn’t pull away. “Are you really fine with it?”

“I’ve accepted it.”

He dropped her hand and turned to his food, disappointed that it had come to this. If he’d had any illusions of fixing their marriage, they were gone now. She’d made sure of that while he lay in a hospital bed with a shattered knee and an equally shattered career.

Tess leaned against the island and sipped her root beer while Alex ate his sandwiches.

“I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Are you?” He ate a chip and watched her, missing nothing. Not the fleeting look of pain. Not the tense way she held her shoulders or the nervous habit she had of playing with the tab on her can.

“That’s not fair, Alex. Of course I’m glad you’re okay.”

He concentrated on his chips, ashamed of his childish behavior and the need to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough. They both had.

Othello stood and sniffed under the table.

“He’s missed you,” she said.

“Have you missed me?”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, then she put her pop can down and turned away. “You can take my bedr—um, the master bedroom. The mattress is more comfortable in there. I’ll take the guest room.”

Alex braced his hands on the walker and stood. He followed her through the short hall to the two bedrooms in the back, the thump-shuffle of his slow gait echoing off the walls. Once again she’d made him feel ashamed. Embarrassed he’d asked if she’d missed him. Humiliated she hadn’t answered.

She stepped into their—her—room and headed for the closet.

For the past five years, their wedding picture had sat on the nightstand. Now a popular paperback and a glass of water sat there.

He shuffled to the bed and lowered himself onto it. Hearing the bedsprings squeak, Othello raced in and took a flying leap onto the mattress where he rolled to his side.

Alex laughed and rubbed the dog’s tummy. Othello opened one eye, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Tess walked across the hall into the bathroom and Alex stood. Leaving the stupid walker behind, he followed Tess using a combination of hobbling and hopping. It was only a dozen or so steps but when he grabbed hold of the bathroom doorframe, sweat was beading on his upper lip and he felt both hot and cold. Blood rushed from his head and he swayed.

Damn. Fainting is not an option, Juran.

Everything went dark and his hands lost their grip on the doorframe.

“Alex!”

He tumbled, his knee screaming in pain and his body hitting something hard.

When he opened his eyes, his head was cradled in Tess’s lap and her fingers were running through his hair. The scene would have been cozy if he wasn’t lying half under the pedestal sink.

“You passed out.”

“I don’t pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “You just wanted to check the floor to see if I’d mopped lately, right?”

“Right.” He traced her jaw with his finger.

She looked at him with the shadows of six months of separation between them. “Alex…”

“Not now, Tessie.”

His hand cupped the back of her head. She came willingly, easily, her breath fanning his face, her heat warming him.

“Tess, I—”

A wet nose shoved its way between them. Othello whined and licked Alex’s face.

Chapter Five

“You should have died, Juran.”

Alex moaned and tried to roll over, but pain shot from his knee straight to his brain.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”

Alex’s eyes flew open. He’d been home from the hospital for four days but it still took a moment to realize the white walls weren’t hospital walls and the window looked out over his backyard instead of a parking garage. He pushed the covers aside, dislodging Othello. The dog whined and jumped off the bed with a huff. He shook his head, clutched his knee and swung his legs off the bed to sit on the edge. He ran a hand down his beard-stubbled face and stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

What had that dream been about? And why was this the third night in a row he’d had it? Othello nudged his elbow with his cold wet nose and Alex patted him absently, thinking of Tess fast asleep in the next room and how much he hated that each night they’d awkwardly say goodnight and then part. They were strangers living together. Saying the right things, avoiding any unpleasantness.

He hated it.

Now that he was back, he missed even more the way it used to be. The laughter and the fun. The closeness.

He leaned forward to grab his walker, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. It took a few moments to position it.

“Damn glad no one’s here to see this,” he said to the dog.

Eventually, he reached the living room and stopped in front of the bay window that overlooked the backyard. Moonlight reflected off the falling snow, making the room glow. Tess had put up a Christmas tree and he looked for the ornaments they’d purchased together. Before they were even married they’d had a tradition of buying an ornament in each city they visited. Sort of a holiday scrapbook that hung on the tree. He’d always loved decorating the tree with her. They would laugh and remember their vacations together.

This year Tess had decorated with glass balls found in any discount store. Just another reminder that their memories meant so little to her. He turned back to the window only to encounter Tess’s reflection in the glass.

Face scrubbed, her hair brushed and falling almost to her waist, wearing flannel pajamas that were two sizes too big, she looked sixteen. Too young to have been married and divorced. Too young for the sadness in her eyes. He wondered if he looked older to her. Had the divorce aged him as well?

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked her reflection.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He touched the needles of the tree. “Where are our ornaments?”

“In the basement.”

“Why?”

“Because it hurts too much to look at them.”

Adopting a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he said, “So, get rid of them.”

“I can’t.”

“You got rid of me. What’s a box of ornaments?”

She sighed, pulled her hands up into her sleeves and stepped closer to the tree. “Getting rid of the ornaments would have hurt more than putting them on the tree.”

“So you want the memories, just not the person attached to them.”

She spun away. Instead of mere inches separating them, a couch, a dog, five years of marriage and six months of separation lay between them.

“I need to go to bed. You need to sleep too. Tomorrow’s your first physical therapy session and I need to get up early to start baking. Barbara’s been handling my business for the time being, but she can’t do it forever.”

“Tess?”

A heartbeat of time passed. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He’d never said that before. Never apologized for all the pain he’d caused. Too little, too late, he knew. Two simple words couldn’t even begin to heal a marriage full of broken promises.

She nodded and disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom. Alex grabbed the walker and scooted closer to the window. Pushing the vision of Tess in her oversized pajamas out of his mind, he thought back to the night he’d been shot. It was all he’d been doing since he awoke to the realization he couldn’t remember a damn thing. And it was easier than thinking of his failed marriage.

The lieutenant and the chief had been patient but he knew they needed his memories before they could move on with the investigation.

There were images. Small things. Like the John Deere cap. Jason’s lifeless eyes. But everything in between was a solid wall of darkness. Nothing.

Damn his malfunctioning brain. He had to remember who killed Jason. Because what if the killer knew where Tess lived?

He stared at the back lawn, at the newly fallen snow that created a pristine landscape, and breathed deep the scent of pine.

A shadow by the maple moved. Othello padded to the window. The hackles on the back of his neck stood up and he growled.

The full moon and the snow illuminated a figure darting from the tree. Alex’s heart kick-started as the shape swung toward the house and accelerated at a dead run.

“Tess!” Alex spun around. Blinding pain shot up his leg and his knee gave out. He grabbed the small table beside him but it toppled and the Tiffany lamp that sat on top bounced off him and hit the wall.

Othello began barking. Tess came running in.

“Get down, damn it.” Alex motioned for her to drop to the floor.

She skidded to a halt right in front of the window.

Chapter Six

Alex jerked Tess down on top of him and covered her mouth with his hand as he rolled. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered.

Beneath his chest he could feel the fast beat of Tess’s heart and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. He put his mouth close to her ear. “Call 911. Tell them there’s an intruder on the back lawn.”

She nodded, scooted out from under him and crawled toward the phone on the other side of the couch.

Alex combat-crawled to the window, dragging his bad leg behind him. He peeked over the edge, but didn’t see anything.

When Tess crawled back, he whispered, “Get my gun. It’s in the drawer beside the bed.”

Othello looked out the window, barked once more, then lay down. Sirens wailed in the distance. Son of a bitch.

While he didn’t like having an intruder in his backyard, he didn’t want the guy to get away either, and those sirens would sure as hell scare anyone away.

Had it been the killer? Coincidence told him yes. He and Tess had chosen this neighborhood for its low crime rate. Burglars didn’t lurk around every corner.

“So, you saw a shadow.” Patrolman Reynolds swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing and Tess knew his nervousness had a lot to do with the angry, injured guy on the couch.

“No. I saw movement in the shadows,” Alex said.

“Right. You saw movement in the shadows.” Reynolds scribbled in his notebook.

The doorbell rang and Tess let in a few more uniforms and a Sergeant Wilkins.

“Juran.” Wilkins nodded to Alex and peered over Reynolds’s shoulder to read his notes. “Heard you had some excitement.”

“Some idiot running through my backyard,” Alex said.

“Mmm hmm.” Wilkins’s gaze met Alex’s and turned to Reynolds, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Find anything outside?”

“No, sir. Nothing.”

Alex stood but had to grab the back of the couch for support. His jaw clenched when the officers watched him.

“And did you see anything, Mrs. Juran?” Wilkins asked.

“No. I was in the other room.”

“I see.” Wilkins’s eyebrows went up and he turned to Reynolds. “You got enough for the report?”

“That’s it?” Alex asked. “That’s all you’re going to do?”

“What else do you want us to do, Juran? Reynolds looked outside, looked all around the house. The snow’s already covered any footprints. Reynolds’ll write up the report, we’ll file it. I’ll put out a couple extra patrols through the night. But my guess is the guy’s long gone.”

Wilkins turned to Reynolds and the two other officers who watched the interaction in silence. “Let’s go, calls are backing up.”

They walked out and Reynolds cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, write that report up as soon as I get to the office. In the meantime—”

“Yeah, I know. In the meantime if I see anything else I’ll give you a call,” Alex said, his tone bitter.

Reynolds looked away. “Yeah, okay. Well then, uh, see ya around.” He beat a hasty retreat, shutting the door behind him.

Alex slumped into the couch, spearing his hand through his hair and looking at the Christmas tree. “They didn’t believe me.”

“Sure they believed you. They just didn’t have anything to go on. The snow—”

Alex snorted and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “Someone was out there.”

“I know.”

“He ran toward the house and all I could think…” He closed his eyes and his voice dropped to a whisper. “All I could think was that I had to protect you.”

“Do you think it was the killer?”

“Look at me.” He waved his hand at his injured leg. “I’m a damn cripple who can’t even protect you.”

“Wilkins said—”

“Fuck Wilkins. He didn’t believe a word I said. You saw the looks I got, Tess. They think I’ve gone off the deep end.”

“Alex, they’re just doing their job.”

“Yeah, I know. Filing a report.”

“And patrolling the area. What would you have done in their shoes?”

His lips thinned and he looked away. This wasn’t about Wilkins not doing his job.

This was about Alex unable to do his.

Before the separation, she’d wanted a husband with a normal job and normal hours, whose only danger was rush-hour traffic. Tonight just proved that Alex could never be that man. Being a cop was in his blood.

“It’s okay to feel frustrated, Alex.”

“Go to bed,” he said wearily. “You need to work in the morning.”

Of course. He’d never admit a weakness. “Are you going to bed?” she asked, trying to hide her hurt and anger. Why she thought he’d start communicating now, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like they had a recent history of being open with each other.

“Does it matter?”

No, it didn’t matter, because six months ago they stopped sleeping together, stopped living together for this very reason. His job consumed him. The funny thing was, he never saw it. Never understood how lonely she’d been or how hurt when she’d asked him to take time for her.

Hours later she was still awake, listening to the creak of the bedsprings in the next room as Alex shifted.

She climbed out of bed and threw her robe on. Maybe if she turned the heat up and checked the windows and doors she could get some sleep. On the way to the thermostat she peeked into Alex’s room. In the dim light, she could see him lying on his back with Othello next to him, the dog’s big head on the pillow. His tail thumped against the bed.

“What do you need, Tess?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

She pushed away the hurt his harsh words caused. “Can I borrow the dog? He usually sleeps with me and since…since everything that’s happened tonight, I just need a warm body next to me.”

Othello rolled to his side and grunted.

“I don’t think he’s moving,” Alex said.

No, it didn’t look like it.

Alex flipped the covers back. “Get in.”

“Alex.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t jump your bones.”

She took a backward step into the hall. “I’ll just turn up the heat.”

“It’s not the heat that bothers you. You’re scared.”

She was scared and lonely but her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it. Besides, what would happen if she climbed into bed with him? Maybe he’d never return to police work. Maybe his career wasn’t an issue anymore. But they had other issues. Things that stood between them they’d never spoken of, let alone tried to resolve. And things they had spoken of and couldn’t resolve.

“Thanks, but I’ll just turn up the heat.”

“That’s right,” he said sarcastically. “You didn’t want me whole, why would you want me now?”

Tess sighed and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t do this, Alex.”

Silence. She couldn’t see through the darkness well enough to determine what he was thinking. And maybe because of the darkness she felt freer. “Wanting you was never the issue.” Sex had never been the issue between them. If only it had been.

“You married me knowing I was a cop. Seems kind of crazy that you would divorce me for the same reason.”

Yes, it did. But back then she had thought their love was enough. And it had been until everything fell apart.

“There were other things. Other issues.”

“Yeah.”

That was all he said, just “yeah”. And that said it all. Again, they couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t put words to the ocean of grief they shared, yet didn’t share.

“I’ll just turn up the heat.” She pulled the door closed behind her.

***

The next morning, Tess’s chest was tight, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. She’d tossed and turned the rest of the night. Should she have climbed in bed with him? Lord knew she missed him so much it hurt, but what would have happened? In the light of the morning, all their problems would still have been there and nothing would have been resolved. Just an itch scratched.

Dressed and ready to face the day, she let Othello out the back door and poured a glass of orange juice. She sipped her juice and studied the backyard, looking for any signs of last night’s intruder. A good two inches of snow had fallen since then, wiping out any clues.

Had the person in the backyard been the same one who had shot Alex and killed his contact?

Tess let Othello in and had to lean into the door to push it closed against the frigid wind.

She pulled eggs and butter out of the refrigerator to begin the first batch of cakes, then headed to the front door to get the morning paper. She braced herself for the burst of cold air and opened the door, grabbed the paper and stepped back inside almost simultaneously.

With her hand stilled on the doorknob, the paper dropped from her lifeless fingers. Obscenities had been spray-painted on her front door.

Pig.

Die.

Prick.

At first she thought it had been written in blood, but realized it was red paint that had dripped, making it look like blood.

***

He slipped into the shadows and studied the Juran house from across the street. Hatred sparked a fire through him, spreading its poison, eating away at rational thought. That always happened when he thought of Supercop Alex Juran.

When Juran had been shot, he’d held his breath and waited to see if he would pull through.

The funniest thing about that week was that he’d been there, mingling with the bigwigs of the department, and they hadn’t even known it. They were arrogant to the core and he’d stood beneath their turned-up noses and laughed at them.

Now that was irony. A roomful of cops and it never occurred to them he had the balls to strut in their presence and thumb his nose at them. Pricks.

A chuckle escaped before he could stop it. Quickly he glanced around to see if anyone heard. The street was empty. Only an idiot would be out in near freezing temperatures.

He wasn’t an idiot by any stretch of the imagination. An idiot couldn’t get at a cop lying in ICU. An idiot wouldn’t dare talk to a cop while he lay in that room all hooked up to monitors and IVs.

Oh, yeah, he’d heard those monitors raise a fuss when he spoke to the high-and-mighty Juran. He’d heard and he’d known Supercop was scared. He’d thought about pulling the plug on a few of those machines, but he hadn’t and now he was glad.

He’d been surprised as hell when he heard Juran couldn’t remember who the shooter was. That’s when his brilliant plan popped into his mind. After that, he’d started praying for dear old Alex’s recovery because he had something better in mind for Officer Juran. Something much better.

A patrol unit cruised into Juran’s driveway. Taking his time, the police officer opened his door, got out and arranged his gun belt.

Supercop Juran, leaning heavily on his walker like an old man, let the cop in and closed the door, but not before checking out the street.

Still under your nose, Juran. Still watching you and yours.

He was a little bummed Juran had moved in with his wife, disappointed in Tess too, for allowing that prick back into her life. But he’d deal with it. He’d adapt. His ability to adapt and to think on his feet was what made him so good at this game. Just like last night. He’d forgotten all about the dog. Soon as he heard the barking, he’d changed plans. Didn’t matter though. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to accomplish, and this morning he’d remembered the dog and had done his business with the front door while the dog did his business out back.

He grinned. The ironies kept piling up, one after the other after the other.

Chapter Seven

Jackson studied the front door.

“Spray paint.” He made a notation in his notebook. “How’s Tess?”

“Shaken up.” Alex’s fingers tightened on his walker. She’d come running into his room, eyes wild, hardly able to breathe. He’d wanted to jump up and take care of it but had to move slowly, thumping and shuffling down the hallway while she called 911.

“We got footprints,” Jackson said.

Alex studied the prints in the snow while Jackson crouched down and took pictures.

“What do you think?” Alex asked.

Jackson snapped off a few more pictures. “I think it’s a clue.”

Alex tamped down on his frustration. Tess had been right, of course. Last night had been about his anger and frustration at himself. If he was in Jackson’s shoes, or Reynolds’s, he would have taken the report and moved on to the next call. He tried to keep that in mind, but it was entirely different when it was your house being vandalized and your family in fear.

“I think it looks like a man’s shoe,” Alex said, still looking at the prints, trying to decide what size.

“We’ll step up patrols.” Jackson stood and put his notebook in his front pocket.

Alex nodded. Jackson gave him a two fingered salute, walked to his cruiser and climbed in.

Alex pushed away from the window and let the curtain fall. Whoever was doing this was sick. Slipping in and out unnoticed. Adapting and overcoming.

Mixing bowls banged together and the microwave pinged. Othello paced between the kitchen and the living room, checking on first Tess then Alex, as if sensing things weren’t quite right in his little world.

Alex entered the kitchen and stepped up beside her.

The bright red fall of her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Two flour handprints were smeared across the butt of her faded jeans. She was attempting to scrape butter out of a bowl, but her hands were shaking so hard she missed most of it.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” She sounded as if she was congested and he wondered if she’d been crying.

He pushed the walker away and managed to turn her around and gather her in his arms while standing on one foot.

She stiffened and pulled away. “I’m fine,” she said again.

He nestled her head under his chin and rested his cheek on the top of her head. The strawberry scent of her shampoo and the butter in the mixing bowl reminded him of strawberry shortcake and summertime and, like the butter in the bowl, Tess melted against him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She sniffed. “It’s nothing. Just a delayed reaction.”

He kissed the top of her head.

She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of flour across her cheek.

With his thumb, he tilted her chin up and kissed her.

In all the months they’d been apart, he hadn’t allowed himself to miss this intimate touching. Touching that heightened the sexual tension until he would nearly burst with his need for her. It felt good to do it now. Right. Like coming home.

He pulled back to kiss her jaw. “God, Tess, I’ve missed you.”

Her head fell to the side, allowing him better access to places he knew from experience would drive her wild. “Ummmm,” she said.

The sound had him rocking his hips against hers, searching for the heat between her legs. His ragged breathing blew the short tendrils of her hair from her face. Placing a hand on each side of her face, he kissed her harder, deeper, longer, pulling the taste of her into him until nothing but Tess flooded his senses. In the back of his mind, a small voice told him to remain in control, but when it came to Tess, he’d never really been in control.

The minute he’d seen her walking down the aisle at Roger and Shannon’s wedding, he’d had this visceral reaction to her. It’d taken a few months to convince Tess that he was serious. After that they’d had only five years. Five years he wouldn’t trade for anything, although he wished the outcome had been different.

Tess struggled against him but it took a while for it to register through the haze of desire and memories.

He let her go, taking a short hop-step back and then another before grabbing hold of the counter.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded faraway and strange. He reached for his walker. “I’ll make things right, Tess.”

She looked up at him. “What things, Alex? Between us or with the killer?”

“That’s not fair.” How could he make things right between them when she refused to accept him as is?

“You’re right.” She turned back to her batter. “That wasn’t fair.”

Why did they always skirt the issue? Why couldn’t they come out and say what they meant? Just like last night when she’d stood in his doorway. All he’d had to do was say the right thing, indicate in some way that he wanted to talk about it, but he couldn’t find the words. Or the courage. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Tony’s stopping by this afternoon. I need to talk to him about what’s been going on and about the case.”

She added ingredients into the bowl, her back to him. “Remember your physical therapy appointment’s today.”

“I’ll be ready.” He swung around and headed for the shower. Once again he’d missed an opportunity.

***

That afternoon Alex met Blankenship and Upton at the front door. Between them, they carried a new door.

Tony whistled, a puff of steamy air escaping his lips. “Look at you, man. Using a cane already.”

They left the door on the porch and stepped in, stamping snow off their shoes and rubbing their hands together.

The cane had been his idea. The physical therapist had said he would be using the walker for at least three more weeks, but he’d be damned if he would lug that thing around another minute. He’d told Tess they’d approved the cane and insisted she stop and buy one on their way home. He figured the mental relief of the cane far outweighed the physical benefits of the walker.

Tess came in from the kitchen. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose pink, and again he wondered if she’d been crying.

His partner held his arms out and enveloped her in a bear hug. “How ya doin’, honey?”

She laughed and patted Tony on the back. Upton smiled at her, the crinkles around his bright blue eyes adding to his good looks. He and Tess had always gotten along and that never sat well with Alex. He trusted Tess completely, but he didn’t like the way Matthew Upton tended to ignore his own wife when another woman entered the room.

She turned to Alex. “I have to make some deliveries. Call me on my cell phone if you need anything.”

His gaze went to the window and the light snow falling outside. “Maybe I should go with you.” He didn’t like her out there all alone. Unprotected.

“I’ll be fine.” She sniffed. “Besides, you can’t ride in the van for that long. I’ll call Tony if I need something.”

Tony patted her on the shoulder. “Just call, I’ll come runnin’.”

Alex swallowed a rush of uncomfortable emotions. Of course she couldn’t rely on him. He couldn’t even drive, for Christ’s sake. And of course Tony would offer to help. The three of them had been friends for years and if Tony were in this situation, Alex would do the same. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

She sniffed again. “I think I’m getting a cold.”

“Maybe you should wait.”

“I’ll be fine. And I need to get these delivered.”

Upton and Blankenship helped her carry the pies and cakes out to the van while Alex sat on the couch feeling helpless and unnecessary. The two saw Tess off and came back into the living room, bringing the scent of the cold air with them.

“Heard you’ve been having some trouble,” Tony said.

Alex shifted his leg to ease the throbbing. “Some idiot running through my backyard last night and this—” he waved at the door, “—this morning.”

Upton leaned forward in the chair he’d plopped down in, all cop now that Tess had gone. “Who responded last night?”

“Guy named Reynolds. Wilkins showed up later.”

“Wilkins is an ass,” Tony said.

Alex shrugged but privately agreed. He’d never liked the man’s condescending attitude.

“You think this thing last night and this morning have to do with the person who shot you?” Upton asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You remember anything else?” Tony said.

Alex wanted nothing more than to stand up and pace. He settled for tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair and shook his head. “Not a damn thing. It’s like a word you can’t remember but you know the letter it starts with. The memory’s there, but I can’t get to it.”

Upton sat back and twisted his wedding ring around his finger. A sure sign he was thinking.

“Tell me about the investigation. What’s going on?” Alex asked.

“Nothing. With you not remembering, things have stalled.” Upton’s razor-sharp gaze pinned Alex. “Tell me about that night.”

They went through it again, from the moment Alex walked between the dark warehouses until Tony showed up at his side. The retelling didn’t get easier and neither did he remember more.

“He’s out there,” Alex said. “He knows where I am and Tess is caught in the middle.”

“We could move her out,” Tony suggested. “No one but us would need to know where she went.”

Alex had considered it, but didn’t like the idea of being separated from her. “She has a business to run and I’d rather she was near me, where I can keep an eye on her.”

“There’s no proof these incidents are connected,” Upton said.

Alex pushed at the arms of his chair to stand, but a sharp pain in his leg had him sinking down. “I don’t want to think there’s a person out there bent on destroying me. I don’t want to think I brought this to Tess’s front door. Literally. But I have no choice. Come on, Upton, this has to be more than coincidence.”

Upton shook his head. “I know it looks that way, but nothing concrete points to any connection. Think about it, Alex. Would a drug lord waste his time painting your door? Or running through your backyard?”

Alex clenched his jaw. His gut was telling him differently, but he couldn’t prove last night’s intruder or the person who painted his door was the same man who shot him, and Upton had a point. Why would the guy hang around and torment him?

There was a quick rap on the front door and all three turned to see Roger step through. “What happened?” he asked, looking at the spray-painted words.

“Graffiti artist,” Alex said. Why the hell was Roger here?

Roger sat on the hearth. “Word is you had some trouble last night. Anything I can do to help?”

You should have died, Juran. Alex shook his head. Damn the memories, they popped up at the oddest times. If only they were new memories and not the same ones.

Roger looked at the door. “That the problem I heard about? Kids spray-painting your door?”

At one time Alex had liked Roger. They’d worked in the same district on the same shift and Roger had been an okay guy. And Alex couldn’t totally hate him because it was at Roger’s wedding that he’d met Tess. However, lately Alex had noticed a swagger in Roger’s step, a condescending look to him. Over the years his opinion of Roger had slowly eroded into dislike. He’d hid it because the guy was his brother-in-law, but he still felt it when they were together. And obviously Upton and Tony were of the same mind because the easygoing camaraderie changed to a slight hum of tension.

“I don’t think it was kids,” Alex said.

“Then who do you think did that?” Roger asked.

“The same guy who shot me.”

Roger blinked. “I don’t know. Seems pretty juvenile for a guy who runs drugs.”

Alex partly agreed but he wouldn’t admit that to Roger. Besides, who else could it be?

Tony stood. “Come on, Upton, let’s get that new door in. Wanna help, Sheffield?”

After the door was installed and the house finally quiet, Alex swung his legs up onto the couch.

The snow was falling heavily, blanketing everything. Cars were cutting deep ruts in the street, and theirs was usually the last to be plowed.

The tick-tock of the clock counted the minutes as they struggled by. Othello, curled in a ball, snored by his post at the hearth. Alex reached for the cordless and called Tess but got no answer. He stared through the window at the nearly whiteout conditions and a shiver of alarm tripped up his spine.

***

Tess pulled into the driveway, shut off the van’s engine and laid her head on the steering wheel. Her head hurt, her back ached, her feet were killing her and, to top it all off, she was coming down with the mother of all colds.

The sun had set, but her day wasn’t nearly finished and tomorrow she would have to start all over. The thought made her want to cry.

She coughed, wrapping her arm around her aching ribs. Damn it, she couldn’t afford to get sick now, not in the middle of the holiday season and with Alex to take care of. She managed to climb out of the van and trudge through the snow to the front door.

She’d have to shovel the drive before loading the van in the morning. Just another thing to add to her to-do list. Before Alex had been shot, she’d been thinking of hiring someone. Maybe a high school girl to help with odds and ends of her business. Now she wished she had.

“Where the hell have you been?” Alex stood in the open doorway, leaning heavily on the cane she knew damn right well the doctor hadn’t approved.

“Making deliveries, I told you that.”

“That was hours ago.”

Tess shut the new door carefully and walked into the kitchen with her coat still on. She pulled eggs and butter out of the refrigerator.

“You’re cooking again?”

“Baking. I bake. And it’s the Christmas season. People want Christmas cookies.”

“I thought we could talk.”

He wanted to talk now? When she had more orders to complete? When he hadn’t wanted to talk six months ago? She placed her hands on her hips, wincing at the sharp stab of pain in her lower back. “I have orders to fill, Alex. People rely on me. If you’re bored and need some entertainment, call Tony.”

He blinked and seemed taken aback. “You could have called and told me you were running late.”

“Look, you’re here to recuperate. You don’t own me. You don’t control me and you certainly don’t have the right to demand.”

He looked stunned before his expression closed down to his inscrutable cop face. “I never thought I owned you, Tess, and I’ve never tried to control you. I was worried, that’s all. But, you’re right. I don’t have any claim on you. You made sure of that.” He swung around and headed for the bedroom. “Finish your baking.”

Tess stood alone in her kitchen, listening to Alex slowly make his way to his bedroom. Well, she’d certainly screwed that up.

Chapter Eight

Tess knocked over the alarm clock in her attempt to shut it off. It hit the floor, rolled and went silent. Thank God. She rolled onto her back and groaned.

Her head felt stuffed full of cotton and she swore some evil elf was pulling her ribs apart with a crowbar every time she coughed.

She leaned over the side of the bed to peer at the clock and her head felt like it would fall off. She’d been feeling bad for a few days and had diligently taken her vitamin C in the hopes of staving off the cold that had been lurking. Apparently the vitamin C wasn’t working because this was the worst she’d felt.

Two more days until Christmas and the end of her busy season. All she had to do was make it through today and tomorrow. Thankfully, she’d taken Alex to physical therapy yesterday and he didn’t have another appointment until after Christmas.

Thoughts of cookies yet to be iced had her sitting up and closing her eyes when the room pitched and swayed.

“Two days and then you can rest,” she told herself, then sniffed and coughed, doubling over and holding her ribs. Holy cow, that hurt!

After a hot shower that did nothing to alleviate the pressure in her head, she shuffled into the kitchen to face the mess she’d left the night before. She’d learned the hard way not to wait until the last minute to clean up, but last night it’d been all she could do to crawl into bed after the last batch of cookies.

She flipped on the lights and paused. The counters gleamed, the sugar and flour had been neatly stowed away and the floor swept.

“You look like crap.”

She turned. The room spun in a different direction and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from falling over. Alex stood by the table, looking sexy in nothing but a baggy pair of sweatpants that barely clung to his hips, his hair sticking up, stubble on his jaw, his eyes still bleary from sleep. The bruise on his chest caused by the bullet slamming into his vest had faded to a mustard yellow.

He glanced at her white knuckles clutching the doorframe. “Go back to bed, Tess, before you fall down.”

“Good morning to you, too, Alex. Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen.”

“You may think I don’t pay attention, but I do. I saw how beat you were last night.”

She suppressed a sigh. No more fighting. That’s all she wanted, was for the two of them to stop sniping at each other for at least one day. “I’m fine. And thank you, I really mean it.”

He shot her a look that told her he didn’t believe it and lowered himself onto a kitchen chair, gripping the top of his cane with both hands as he sat. Othello padded in and stood at the back door, his ears cocked forward. “You work too much.”

She worked too hard? If she did, she’d learned it from him. Besides, what else did she have in her life but her business? Tess let Othello out.

“I heard you coughing all night. You need to see a doctor.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

“You didn’t.” He massaged his knee and Tess wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

She looked pointedly at his hand. “You still have your pain medication.”

He put his hand back on the cane. “No. Just thinking.”

She turned to the cabinets and pulled out bowls. “About the killer?”

“Yes.”

This was something she couldn’t help with even though she desperately wanted to. She knew it distressed him that he couldn’t remember the killer’s face and that he blamed himself for Jason’s death. He needed to solve this case, catch the killer and get him convicted. Then he’d be at peace. Of course that wouldn’t solve the tension between them.

She was beginning to wonder if anything would.

***

Two hours later, Alex watched Tess’s van back out of the driveway. He hadn’t been kidding when he said she looked like shit. Her coughing had kept him awake, along with a host of other crap he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He worried about her. Worried the killer would follow her and try to get to him through her. Worried she’d crash on the snowy roads. Hated that she had to work so hard and that they were living together but never saw each other and couldn’t hold a decent conversation without arguing.

How ironic that Tess had wanted more time with him and, now that he had the time, she didn’t want anything to do with him.

He made his way to the couch and sat down. Othello shoved his head into Alex’s lap and Alex stroked him. How many times had he come home late from work and found Tess asleep on this same couch? He’d always told her she didn’t need to wait up, but she’d insisted she wanted to make sure he’d made it home safe.

He looked out the window at the empty space where the van usually sat. He’d always tried to call and tell her when he’d be late, but a lot of times he’d been too busy. What had it been like for her to wait for him, not knowing where he was or what he was doing? And how sad was it that he just now thought of what his career had done to her?

She tried to tell you. All those times she asked you to go places with her, do things with her. And he’d always told her he had to work. Work came first and he’d never understood why she couldn’t understand.

What an idiot.

Outside, a car door slammed. Using his cane for leverage, he hauled himself up and walked to the window. Tony was trudging up the driveway, holding a bag.

Alex met him at the front door. “Man, it’s good to see you. I’m bored out of my mind.”

Tony laughed, wiped his boots on the rug and handed him the plastic drawstring bag. “The detectives wanted me to give you your clothes and stuff from the night of the shooting.”

“Can you stay for a while?” The words reminded Alex of all the times Tess had asked him that same question. It made him feel needy and at the same time sad.

“Can’t, AJ. Gotta get to work. Some other time.” And Tony’s answer had been the same one Alex had usually given Tess.

After Tony left, Alex made his way back to the couch.

Othello sniffed the bag and sat back on his haunches. “What do you say, O? Open it?”

The dog lifted a paw and placed it on Alex’s leg. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. Maybe I’ll remember something, eh?”

He opened the bag and memories flashed like light bulbs on a camera. Blood all over his leg, pooling under him. The stars shining down on him. The wail of sirens. Jason’s dead eyes looking toward heaven. The look of horror in Tony’s eyes. The softly falling snow that seemed so out of place.

He didn’t think he’d ever forget the feeling of knowing he was dying. Of all the regrets that piled up. The biggest being the end of his marriage. He’d desperately wanted to tell Tess how much he missed her and loved her.

So why was it, when he’d been given a second chance, he had yet to say the words?

Because Big Ole Powerful Alexandre Juran, the man everyone asked to do the dangerous jobs, the man who feared nothing when it came to the law and getting his man, feared another rejection from Tess.

He plunged his hand into the bag and pulled out the first thing he touched. His shirt, smeared with blood, a bullet hole in the center. Thank God for Kevlar. Othello sniffed the shirt and whined, backing away from the odor. Alex balled up the garment, dropped it on the floor and pulled out his jeans. They, too, were soaked in blood and cut to shreds by the medical team.

He turned the bag over and gave it a good shake. His cell phone fell out, along with his watch and wedding ring. Even though the divorce had been only days away, he hadn’t taken the ring off. He picked it up and turned it around. Amazing that a simple circle of gold could represent so much love and so much despair.

He slid the ring into his jeans pocket, picked up the cell phone and powered it up. He was surprised that he had enough juice left in the battery to turn on. The little envelope in the corner of the screen indicated he had voicemail messages.

He stuffed the phone in his shirt pocket and stared at the clothes lying in a heap on the floor. The baseball hat. Where’d the hat go? A picture of a hand knocking the John Deere hat off his head flashed through his mind. Closing his eyes, Alex concentrated on that small new detail. A hand. Five fingers. He replayed the memory, slowing it down, memorizing every aspect.

Why had the man knocked his hat off? What had been the point? To get a better look at him? Had he looked familiar?

Gold flashed. A wedding ring. Like the one he wore. Like the one thousands, hell, maybe millions, of other men wore.

Alex reached for his cell phone and called Tony.

“Yo, Alex. What’s up, man?”

“I remember something.”

Tony must have reached over and turned the radio down because the background noise suddenly got quiet. “Yeah? What?”

“The killer. He’s married.”

“How do you know?”

“He knocked my hat off. Remember, I wore that John Deere hat? He knocked it off my head. He wore a wedding ring. Gold.”

“Man, AJ, it’s something, but it’s not. How many men wear gold wedding rings?”

“It’s a start, Tony. Maybe my memory’s returning.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Juran. Could be nothin’.”

“Could be. But then, it could be something.”

“Sure. I’ll pass this on. Let me know if you remember more.”

Alex flipped his phone closed and stared at his bloody pants, searching his mind, trying to remember more. Nothing came to him except a headache and he eventually gave up, disheartened yet excited he was another step closer.

“I’ll get you,” he said to the quiet house. “I’ll find you, you son of a bitch.”

He made his way to the garage and shoved the clothes into the trash bag, then went in search of Tess’s cookies. She usually left a few for him on a plate and he grabbed one and bit into it. He would never admit this out loud, but he’d craved Tess’s desserts since he moved out, going so far as to eat lunch at the diners who carried her desserts just to get a piece of one of her pies or cakes.

He was licking his fingers when his phone chirped. For a moment he didn’t recognize the sound, he’d been so long without it. Fishing it out of his pocket, he looked at the display and frowned. Scott Greeley, his attorney.

“Juran.”

“Alex! Man, I’ve been going crazy trying to get a hold of you. Heard about the shooting but couldn’t get in touch.”

When Tess served him with divorce papers, Alex had ignored them until the guys at work told him he was being an idiot, that he needed an attorney whether he wanted the divorce or not. Scott Greeley had represented some of his fellow officers in other divorce cases, so Alex had called him.

“How you doing, buddy?”

He hadn’t liked the guy on sight, although that probably had more to do with the divorce and less to do with Scott himself. But still, he didn’t consider Greeley his buddy.

“Doin’ okay, Scott. What can I do for you?”

“Wanted to run a few dates by you.”

“Dates for what?”

“The divorce hearing.”

“The divorce happened weeks ago.”

“Tess didn’t tell you? She canceled the court date. ”

“Canceled?” Alex looked out over the backyard. Othello sniffed around the floor, licking up crumbs. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than normal. His mind ran in a hundred different directions.

“Yeah. Said she didn’t want to go through with it while you were laid up in the hospital.”

“Let me get this straight, Scott. You’re saying I’m still married? To Tess?”

“Well, yeah, but not for long. How’s the end of January sound? Say the twenty-ninth?”

Alex’s world had shattered six months ago and now it suddenly seemed brighter. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right. “No, Scott, I don’t think so.”

“Shit, Alex, we can’t do it any sooner than that. That’s the first date I could get.”

“You know what, Scott? I don’t need your services anymore.”

“Are you crazy? She’ll take you for everything you’ve got. You need representation, Alex.”

“Thanks for all you’ve done. Oh, and send your bill to my old address. I’m back with Tess.”

He closed his phone, dug into his pocket, pulled out his wedding ring and slipped it on his finger. The sun glinted off the gold and the weight of it felt right.

Chapter Nine

Ignoring the sweat gathering between his shoulder blades and rolling down his back from the simple act of hobbling down the steps, Alex surveyed the basement. His weights were where he’d left them six months ago. He’d been so convinced he’d return to live here again, he hadn’t bothered taking them. Maybe he could make use of this confinement, work out some, in addition to the exercises the physical therapist recommended. If he did all that, maybe he could return to work sooner than planned.

But first things first.

Twenty minutes later, out of breath, his knee aching, Alex lowered the box of ornaments to the living room floor. He wiped the sweat from his brow and opened the flaps. Memories hit him like a baseball bat to the stomach.

A grizzly bear pulling a Christmas tree reminded him of their trip to the Smoky Mountains. They’d hiked during the day and made love in the tall four-poster bed at night.

The tinkling of a red bell shaped like an apple brought images of New York City and the vacation they’d taken one hot summer. He hadn’t much liked the hustle and bustle and the wall-to-wall people of the Big Apple, but Tess had loved it.

Each ornament reminded him of happier times. Of times when they’d been sure their love could conquer anything. By the time dusk fell, the tree looked like their Christmas trees of years past. He lit a fire, turned on the twinkling lights and sat down to wait for Tess.

***

Tess trudged up the driveway. It’d taken longer than she’d expected to make her deliveries and, as the day progressed, her body had rebelled. Her feet refused to move fast enough and her back hurt every time she picked up a box.

One more day.

How many times had she told herself that?

She opened the front door and pulled her coat off, dropping it on the floor. Her boots came next, along with her scarf. She blinked, trying to focus on the hazy glow of Christmas tree lights.

Alex limped in from the kitchen, the familiar tap, shuffle of his feet and cane making her turn toward him. He pulled up short. “Jesus, Tess. You look like hell.”

She passed a hand over her sweaty brow and pushed her hair away. “Yeah, you said something like that earlier.” She shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands. The fire called to her, but her kitchen called louder.

Alex pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.” Worry lines creased the area between his eyebrows. “Get in bed.”

She shook her head. The room tilted and the lights on the tree and in the windows blurred into one big golden ball. “Can’t. Got things to do.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. The only thing you have to do is sleep.” He gently took her arm and guided her down the hall.

She wanted to pull away, but was afraid she’d fall. “One more day, Alex. Got more deliveries tomorrow.”

He shook his head. It took some effort on her part to follow the movement. “Sorry, Tessie.”

Panic had her yanking her arm free, but she stumbled and her shoulder hit the wall.

Alex dropped his cane to catch her before she slid to the floor. “Tess, this is ridiculous. You need sleep and you need to see a doctor.”

She coughed. Her throat rattled and her ribs felt as if they’d cracked in two. She held on to her ribcage with one hand and covered her mouth with the other.

“You’re pissing me off, Tess. You either get in bed or I’ll carry you.”

“You can’t carry me, you idiot.” She pushed away from the wall and stumbled in the direction of the kitchen.

“All the more reason for you to walk on your own, then.” He took her arm again and with surprising strength pulled her down the hall, turning when he came to his room. Tess dug her heels into the soft carpet. “I can’t go in there! That’s your room.”

He tugged on her hand. “You said yourself this room has the best mattress. Do you need help undressing?”

She shook her head.

“Good. I’ll call the doctor.” He pointed to the bed. “If you’re not in there, under the covers, by the time I get back, I’m tossing you in myself.”

***

“Tess. Tess, honey, wake up.”

Tess moaned and shrugged off the hand shaking her shoulder.

“Tess. You have a doctor’s appointment. Shannon’s on the way to take you. You need to get ready.”

She sat up and coughed. Damn, it hurt to move. She tried to lie back down, but a strong arm held her up. She whimpered.

“I know, baby.”

She opened blurry eyes and tried to focus on the clock. “Time is it?”

“Five o’clock. The doctor’s staying over to see you, so you have to hurry.”

She burrowed into the strength of Alex’s arms and the warmth of his body. He was like a furnace and she was so cold.

He tugged on her arm. The loss of his body heat caused her to start shivering again.

“Tess, get up. You can sleep when you get back, I promise. Damn, I wish I could take you myself, but I still can’t drive.” His husky voice floated around her and she smiled.

“’Kay.”

Twenty minutes later, she stood at the front door while Alex bent over her, attempting to button her coat. He swayed on his good leg.

Tess brushed him away. “I can do this myself.” Being up and about made her grumpy. Each ache and pain intensified.

Shannon pulled into the driveway and honked.

Alex tugged the collar of her coat tighter around her neck and kissed her nose. “Be a good girl and listen to what the doctor says.”

“Yes, Dad.”

He smiled and gave her a quick hug, then grabbed his cane and opened the door. “Now out.”

She made her way to Shannon’s minivan and climbed in. The lingering smell of old fast food and spoiled milk had her stomach churning.

“I hope this is quick,” Shannon said, looking in her rearview mirror. She backed out of the driveway and shifted gears, accelerating down the street. “I have to get home. Dinner’s in the oven and Roger wasn’t too happy I ran out on him.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spoil your night.” Tess closed her eyes because the passing scenery nauseated her.

Shannon sighed. “That’s okay. Fact is, I’m glad to get out of that house. Screaming kids in the middle of winter, with Christmas just days away, gets on my nerves. Plus this baby’s sitting on my bladder and pressing against my diaphragm.”

Tess didn’t want to hear this.

Shannon sighed again, an exaggerated sound meant to elicit sympathy. “You’re so lucky to still have your figure, Tess.”

Shut up! Oh, please, just shut up.

“Kids are so draining—physically, mentally, spiritually.”

“Financially.”

Shannon laughed. “Financially. Roger’s constantly complaining about the cost of raising kids.”

“So why are you having another?”

“This one was an oops.”

According to Shannon, every one of her kids had been an oops. Tess shook her head and looked out the front windshield. She let the silence drag on, happy that Shannon had stopped complaining about things she longed for.

A sniff had her turning back to her sister. A single tear ran down Shannon’s cheek. Why, oh why, hadn’t Alex driven her? Of course the doctors had said he couldn’t drive, but they’d also said he couldn’t use a cane and he’d ignored that advice.

“Something’s wrong, Tess.”

Tess leaned her head against the headrest. Yeah, something was wrong all right. Her head felt like it was ready to split open, her ribs ached from coughing and her back hurt. Somehow, Tess didn’t think Shannon was referring to her illness, though.

“Something’s wrong with Roger. He hasn’t been acting right for a long time now.”

She and Shannon had never been close. They’d been complete opposites growing up, even down to their looks. Shannon had been a cool blonde with big blue eyes, a flirtatious manner and curves in all the right places, while Tess had been more the jock, just one of the guys.

With the death of their parents, months apart, the differences between them pulled them even further apart. Shannon settled down and started a family, pushing out a baby every other year. Tess had married but failed miserably at the marriage and baby parts.

“Maybe he’s worried about feeding another kid.”

Shannon shook her head. “Oh, no. He may complain about this pregnancy draining the funds, but he’s happy, I know he is. It’s something else. He’s worried about something and when I ask him what’s wrong, he just says it’s nothing. I’m afraid, Tess.”

Tess patted Shannon’s knee. She knew the fear Shannon spoke of, had felt it when her own marriage began to fail, and she couldn’t help but feel for her sister. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe work has him down.”

Shannon sniffed again. “You’re probably right. It’s just that he’s so jumpy lately. He snaps at the kids all the time and then disappears for hours in the evening. I don’t understand it.”

It sounded like Roger had a honey on the side. If that was the case, then Tess would kick his sorry butt all over the state. Shannon might be shallow and self-serving, but no one deserved a philandering husband, especially a woman so close to delivering her fourth child.

***

Two hours later Alex met Tess at the front door. He was leaning heavily on his cane, deep furrows bracketing the sides of his mouth and his eyes shadowed in pain.

“You’ve done too much, Alex. You need to sit down, take some weight off the knee.”

“Don’t baby me.” He helped her into the house. What a pair they made. It seemed he leaned more on her than she on him.

Shannon stood on the porch, holding a pharmacy bag. “What’d the doctor say?” he asked her.

“Pneumonia.” Shannon shoved the bag at him and backed up.

“Pneumonia.” He turned to Tess. “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”

Tess shrugged out of her coat. “The doctor said to take it easy, rest, take my medicine and drink plenty of fluids. You know—the usual advice.”

Just the thought of standing in the kitchen and mixing ingredients, then braving the cold and her temperamental van made her sick to her stomach.

“I’ll get you something to drink and then you can take your medicine and sleep.”

She shook her head, regretting the action when the room started to spin. “Wake me in an hour.”

Alex’s dark gaze touched various places on her body and a frown deepened the lines in his tired face.

“My business depends on it, Alex.” Her clients relied on her for their Christmas parties. If she didn’t complete these last important deliveries, her name would be mud in the catering industry.

Something must have convinced him she was serious because he held his hand out to her. A smile tilted one corner of his mouth. “Take a nap. Take your medicine. I’ll help.”

“You’ll help?”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“And you promise you’ll wake me?”

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

Something didn’t seem quite right with that statement but damn if her foggy brain could figure out what.

Chapter Ten

Alex opened the bedroom door and peeked in on Tess for the third time in an hour. Her face was pale with bright splotches of color on her cheeks and her breath rattled in her chest. He eased the door closed and made his way into the living room, Othello following close at his heels. He understood she needed to finish the gift baskets and cookie trays. He understood about wanting to complete a job, yet, for the first time in days, she was sleeping without coughing.

He rubbed the stubble on his jaw and veered into the kitchen, eyeing the new cabinets and counters. The fax machine on the built-in desk beeped and spit out a few pages. Other pages littered the floor under the machine. For the most part, he’d ignored the fax when it rang. Now he gathered up the pages.

Othello padded out of the kitchen and scratched at the front door. Alex followed, feeling guilty for not waking her when she’d asked him to. Othello scratched at the door again and whined.

“Quit that, O. That’s a new door.”

The doorbell rang, O barked. Alex limped to the door as fast as he could, shushing O before he woke Tess.

In the pool of yellow made by the porch light, Tony was crouched down, looking at a small pile of blood and gore congealing on the Santa Claus doormat.

“O bring you home a gift?” Tony asked.

“What the hell?” Alex stared at the mess.

Othello poked his nose between Alex’s legs and sniffed. The dog’s hackles rose and he growled. Using his cane, Alex shoved him back in the house and shut the door.

Straightening his injured knee and bending his good one, Alex sank down to Tony’s level and inspected the mess. Tiny bones poked out from broken skin and fur, blood spreading over Santa’s hat and beard.

Tony found a stick and started poking through the mess. “Hamsters.” Tony tossed the stick into the yard and stood.

Alex had come to the same conclusion. A massacred family of hamsters. Or maybe gerbils. He leveraged himself up using the cane, grimacing at the twinges in his knee, and looked out over the quiet street. “I’ll give you one guess who did this.”

“You think the same person who ran through your backyard?”

“And painted my front door.”

“Why would a killer do shit like this? It doesn’t make sense. Why would he torment you like this? Why not hightail it out of here while he had the chance? Or better yet, kill you before you remember?”

“Maybe he likes toying with me.”

“Or maybe it’s not the same guy.” Tony raised an eyebrow as if challenging him.

“You don’t believe me.” Trusting each other’s gut instincts had saved their lives more than once, so for Tony to doubt him now smacked of betrayal.

Tony rubbed a hand across his bald head and sighed. “Hell, AJ, I just don’t know. It seems you’re seeing things you want to see without looking at the facts. That’s not like you.”

Alex gripped his cane until his knuckles hurt. “It’s never been personal before. None of the dirtbags I’ve dealt with have come to my home and threatened my—” He swallowed. Emotions he’d been living with for six months welled up inside him, one standing out over the others. Fear. If anything happened to Tess, it’d be his fault. He couldn’t live with that. “Threatened my family.”

“Yeah, that’d make me crazy too, but you gotta look at the facts, and the facts don’t indicate a person who’s organized enough to run a drug ring.” Tony pointed to the mess on the porch. “This suggests kids, or maybe some wacko with a vendetta.”

“No. It’s the same guy. My gut tells me that. Son-of-a-bitch!” He wanted to get his hands on the asshole and wrap his fingers around the guy’s neck.

“So what are you gonna do about this?”

“Call it in. Get a report.” He waved a hand at the mess. “We need to get this out of here before Tess wakes up. Damn, she’ll notice the missing doormat.”

Tony looked at him in surprise. “You’re not telling her about this?”

“Hell, no. She’s upset enough with the other stuff and besides, she’s sick.”

“Sick?” Concern creased Tony’s brows and his mouth turned down.

“Pneumonia. Which reminds me, what are your plans for tomorrow?”

“Why?”

“I need your help.” Alex looked around the neighborhood again and spied his truck parked on the street. “You brought my truck?”

“The landlord said it needed to be moved. Plus, I thought Tess could drive it now and then to keep it running. I’d hoped Tess could drive me back home.”

“No can do. She’s wiped out. Can you call someone?”

“I’ll just jump a ride with the patrolman who comes to take the report.”

***

Tess groaned and tried to roll over, but Othello had settled on her legs and she couldn’t move. She blinked before her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the nearly darkened room. Stifling a yawn, she glanced at the clock, but it wasn’t there. Somewhere in the back of her mind a faint thought whispered that she needed to do something, but her body ached and her eyes were so heavy she couldn’t keep them open. She snuggled into the covers and was almost asleep when it all came back.

Cookies.

Gift baskets.

Deliveries.

If lifting her arms took too much effort, how was she supposed to do all of that? She coughed then groaned as pain sliced through her ribs. Pulled muscles, the doctor said. Pulled muscles, broken ribs, they all felt the same to her.

Promising herself a few more minutes of rest, she burrowed under the covers and tried to kick Othello off her legs. He didn’t budge. She turned her head and went still. It wasn’t Othello pinning her to the bed. Alex lay beside her, one hand under his pillow, his leg thrown over hers.

He sighed and shifted, frowning in his sleep when he moved his bad knee. She wanted to touch his cheek, smooth the hair off his brow, kiss his lips. For a few moments, she let herself think what it might have been like if everything had worked out.

But a husband who hadn’t been there for her, a lonely marriage—that was her reality.

Tess closed her eyes to the steady cadence of Alex’s breathing.

She brushed a stray tear off her cheek. She wanted more than what she’d had. She wanted a husband who put their marriage before his career. A husband who would be there when she needed him and not just when he could fit her into his busy schedule.

His arm came around her, turning her until her back met his front and she decided that tonight she wouldn’t think about all the bad stuff. She fell asleep with his hand cupping her breast and her bottom brushing his erection.

***

Tess woke to sunlight pouring in the slats of the closed blinds and an incredible thirst for root beer. She rolled over, feeling better but still like she’d gone a round or two with her electric mixer.

Voices drifted through the closed bedroom door. She turned her head to find Alex’s side of the bed empty, his pillow indented where he had slept.

The sharp, unpleasant odor of burnt food seeped into the room and she wrinkled her nose. Pans clattered in the kitchen and a muffled curse was followed by a crash and Othello’s yelp.

Tess sat up. The room tilted and instead of the small of her back aching, her entire back ached. She had a vague recollection of searching for the clock in the middle of the night. Damn Alex! He’d hidden the alarm clock so she would sleep longer. Now she understood what he meant when he’d said, “I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

She threw the covers off, groaning with each creak and moan of her muscles. When she coughed, her lungs rattled less but her ribs ached more.

Another muffled curse from the kitchen had her moving as best she could into the hallway where the stink of scorched cookies hung thick in the air.

She stopped in the doorway to her kitchen. Alex sat at her desk, gold wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he read a recipe card. Two days of beard growth covered his cheeks and jaw. Flour and a yellow sticky substance she didn’t want to identify were smeared over his jeans and T-shirt.

Papers spit out by the fax floated onto a pile on the floor. Othello was in the corner, scarfing down black, charred cookies while Tony stood in the middle of the kitchen, an oven mitt on each hand, looking at her with wide, innocent eyes.

She tried to focus on it all, but her mind refused to comprehend the utter destruction. “What are you doing?”

Alex jumped, dropped the card and whipped the glasses off. Othello hacked, then began to lick crumbs off the floor. Tony slowly removed the oven mitts.

“We’re finishing up your orders,” Alex said.

“You’re what?”

Alex grabbed his cane, which was covered in a fine dusting of flour, and pulled himself up. “We’re finishing your orders. We figured we’d bake the cookies and Barbara agreed to come over and help us decorate.”

Tess’s gaze went from Alex to Othello, who dropped to the floor with a deep groan. Alex moved to block her view. “That was our first attempt. We’re better now.”

“He’s going to get sick.”

“Then I’ll clean that up too.”

His thoughtfulness made her want to cry. Everything made her want to cry. He must have been up for hours. Standing so long wasn’t good for his knee.

“It’s time for your medicine and you’re probably thirsty too. Are you hungry?” he asked.

The oven timer beeped and Tony removed a tray of perfectly baked cut-out cookies. Alex turned to her with a questioning look and smiled when he saw her staring at the cookies. “Didn’t think we could do it, huh?”

Tess shook her head, too stunned to speak.

“Just don’t tell the guys at work,” Tony grumbled, expertly sliding the spatula under the cookies and lifting them off the cookie sheet.

Othello stretched his neck and sniffed the new cookies, his tail thumping the floor.

Alex limped over, a glass of orange juice in his hand and the bottle of medicine tucked into his shirt pocket. “Drink this. Take your medicine and go back to bed.”

Tess swallowed the medicine. “I’m feeling much better. I can take over from here.”

“You don’t think we can handle this?”

“It’s not that. It’s just—” she waved her hand, indicating the kitchen and the cooling cookies, “—this is my business and I should be the one slaving over the hot stove.” She swung to Alex. “Oh my, God! What about the pies and cakes? What time is it?”

“Taken care of. I called the restaurants this morning, explained the situation, and they all agreed to make do for one day.”

Tess sank into the desk chair Alex had vacated and put her head in her hands.

“They said that?” The restaurants had given up their desserts. Barbara was giving up her Christmas Eve. Tony had given up his day off. And Alex, who’d never really said one way or the other what he thought of her growing business, was directing them all. For him to acknowledge that her business was important brought a fresh load of tears.

Alex placed his hand on her forehead, then helped her up. “It’s time you went back to bed. You’re still a little warm and the doctor said you need rest.”

Tess paused on her way out the door. “What about the deliveries? You can’t drive.”

“Tony will drive, I’ll navigate.”

“I…” She was so overwhelmed, she wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.”

He smiled that smile that tilted only one corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

Chapter Eleven

Tess opened her eyes and pushed the hair out of them to look at the clock but it still wasn’t there.

“Damn, Alex, it’d be nice to know what time it is.” She couldn’t really be angry at him. Not when he’d gone to such lengths to finish her Christmas season for her.

If watching him struggle to bake cookies hadn’t told her how much she loved him, then curling up next to his warmth last night had.

She didn’t know how many times he’d woken her, forcing her to swallow her medicine and drink the fluids the doctor recommended. His thoughtfulness surprised her, and yet she remembered a time, long ago, before careers got in the way, when he’d been the same man he was last night—tender, thoughtful, generous and loving.

A lone tear leaked out of her clenched eyes. It wouldn’t last. It never did. He’d go back to his career and slowly drift away from her.

Rolling to her side, she pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes again, willing herself back to the oblivion of sleep.

Small things broke her concentration. The slam of a car door, the slurp-slurp of Othello drinking out of his water bowl, the low murmur of the television, the soft hiss of the furnace right before it kicked on.

As sure as sunshine in July, she knew Alex was somewhere in this house. How often had she awoken with that knowledge?

Not often enough.

She was reluctant to face him, yet knew she couldn’t hide forever. What would they talk about?

Face it, Tess, you have nothing in common with your husband.

They’d been living together for almost two weeks. Two weeks of constant activity between baking, delivering, shuttling him from doctor appointments to physical therapy. Weeks of avoiding the topic of divorce. They hadn’t sat down and had a normal conversation in months. Now she feared they’d forgotten how.

Thirty minutes later Tess emerged from the bathroom freshly showered and wearing clean flannel pajamas under her robe. Her bones felt like rubber but she was tired of lying in bed so she headed for the living room.

The flickering of the television screen mingled with the flickering of the tree and fireplace. Alex was slouched in one corner of the couch, his bad leg resting on the coffee table, the other leg bent at the knee. A longneck bottle of beer dangled from his hand. Ragged jeans hugged his thighs and lay loose across his abdomen. A faded gray University of Cincinnati sweatshirt hitched up slightly to reveal a small sliver of skin between the jeans and shirt. His hair looked like he’d been raking his hands through it.

“You look better.” His brown eyes reflected the fire in the grate.

“That’s some compliment, coming from you.”

He smiled and set the beer bottle on the table beside the couch. Using both hands, he grasped his bad knee, lowered his leg to the floor, grabbed his cane and stood. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“I can get it.”

He hobbled to the kitchen, his gait stiff until he’d walked a few steps. “No problem.”

Tess followed. “What time is it? I think someone stole my alarm clock.”

“That would be me. Want to file a report?” He looked over his shoulder and threw her a grin that had her stopping in her tracks and trying to regain her breath. It’d been a long time since she’d seen that grin and Lord, how she’d missed it.

She cleared her throat and continued on to the kitchen. “What good would it do? You’ve got an in with the cops around here.”

He laughed—a rich, deep sound that vibrated through her and made her heart ache. They used to laugh like that all the time. Before things fell apart.

“Did you get the cookies delivered?” She looked around the pristine kitchen. Every speck of flour had been wiped away. Every pan cleaned and stored. The appliances gleamed.

Alex opened the refrigerator and stuck his head inside. “Yup, all done.”

Tess glanced at the digital clock on the stove. Eight o’clock. “You managed to make all the deliveries and clean up by eight?”

Alex backed out of the refrigerator, the makings of a ham sandwich in his hands. “That was yesterday, Tess.”

“Yesterday? Are you saying I slept over twenty-four hours? That means today is—”

“Christmas.” He slapped thick slices of ham on rye bread and slathered it with mustard, just the way she liked it.

“I slept through Christmas Eve? And Christmas day? Oh, Alex, I’m sorry. You were all alone on Christmas.”

“No need to apologize. I’ve done the same to you once or twice.”

Taken aback, she just stood there, twisting the belt of her robe in her hands. What could she say? He had abandoned her on many a Christmas Eve, but for him to acknowledge it was a huge step and one that left her confused.

He reached into the fridge again, pulled out a can of root beer and handed it to her. “You’ll have to carry this. I only have one free hand.”

Tess followed him into the living room, matching her pace to his. He placed the plate on the coffee table and sank into the couch with a sigh. She stood in front of him, still stunned she’d slept so long and missed most of Christmas.

Alex held his arm out, indicating the spot next to him where she could curl into his side. “Sit beside me, Tess.”

She clutched the cold can and looked at his outstretched arm. Her wobbly legs gave out and she sank into the opposite end of the couch.

Alex’s arm dropped, disappointment evident in the crease of his brow. Tess reached for her plate and ate her sandwich, chewing methodically while not tasting anything.

They watched It’s a Wonderful Life in silence while the fire crackled in the grate and the dog snored at Tess’s feet. The heat from the flames made her drowsy, but she refused to fall asleep. She wouldn’t abandon Alex on Christmas night too.

After the credits stopped rolling and an infomercial began, Alex turned the TV off, but he continued to stare at the blank screen, occasionally lifting the beer bottle and taking a swallow.

The sandwich sat heavy in Tess’s stomach. She took a sip of root beer to calm the churning.

This is what you dreaded, isn’t it? Not the lack of communication, but the lack of having anything to say to each other.

Her gaze darted around the room, flitting here and there, everywhere but at Alex. She settled on the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Her attention sharpened, focused. She pushed herself up from the couch and walked with slow, hesitant steps to the tree where she touched the apple-shaped bell, sending a merry tinkling through the still house. Her gaze shifted to the bear pulling a tree behind him and then to the red glass globe painted with the Cincinnati skyline.

Memories hit her with enough force to double her over in pain. Only the weight of Alex’s watchful gaze kept her back stiff.

When she swung around to face him, his brown eyes bore into hers, daring her to say something.

“When did you do this?”

“Two days ago.”

“You had no right—”

“I had every right.”

“How do you figure? We’re—”

“Still married.”

She took an involuntary step back, startled at his angry tone. He had a tight hold on the beer bottle and his shoulders were tense. He acted as if he hadn’t known. Surely his attorney had told him she’d canceled the court date. Surely Alex had known she would never dissolve their marriage while he was in the hospital.

His lips thinned into a tight line, his eyes narrowed.

He hadn’t known.

But he knew now.

Oh, God.

“I’m sorry. I thought your attorney told you.”

“He did. Two days ago.”

The day he put the ornaments back on the tree. “I would never do that. Divorce you while you were in the hospital.” She sat on the couch.

The pinched look around his eyes softened. He plucked her hand away from her robe and held it in his. The warmth of his skin heated her in a way the flames from the fire couldn’t.

“When I moved out, I was angry,” he said. “Angry because you couldn’t accept me for who I was. But I thought, given time, you’d realize… Hell, I don’t know, Tess. I guess I thought you would ask me back.” He turned her hand in his, so their fingers intertwined and she felt the smooth band on his finger. When had he put his wedding ring back on and why hadn’t she noticed until now? “Why didn’t you ask me back, Tess? What’d I do that was so awful you’d throw me away forever?”

Her heart rolled in her chest at the vulnerability echoed in those words. For so long she’d concentrated on her own pain that she’d pushed Alex’s to the back of her mind. After all, he’d been the one who refused to compromise. He’d been the one who refused to see his faults.

Maybe she should have demanded less, requested more. Maybe if she’d asked him to go to counseling instead of assuming he’d refuse, they’d be looking ahead to a lifetime together instead of back at a failed marriage.

“Pride,” she admitted, surprised at how easily the admission slipped out. “Damn, stupid pride.”

“I can understand pride.”

The firelight played across the walls. The Christmas tree lights twinkled. Othello snored from his post at the hearth. The cozy comforts of home made it clear they’d come to a crossroads. They could continue to bicker or they could lay it all on the line, tell the whole truth, reveal the hurts and disappointments and see where it took them.

Tess had been down the one road for far too long. The time had come to view the scenery from a different path. She shifted so her back rested against the corner of the couch.

Alex grabbed the throw from the back of the couch and fussed with it, pulling her legs up and tucking it under her feet. He wouldn’t have done that six months ago. Or even one month ago. The baking, the care he’d taken of her illness and the wedding ring had her wondering if his injury had changed him for good. Could she bargain her heart that it had?

Finished fixing the blanket, he looked at her with a sad smile and squeezed her foot. In that simple, tender gesture, Tess had her answer.

Yes.

Yes, she’d willingly bargain her heart to discover if he’d changed for good.

“Tell me something, Alex.”

His expression turned guarded and he removed his hand. “What?”

“If I’d asked you to come back, would things have changed?”

He frowned and looked into the fire. “I never really understood what you wanted from me, Tess. I never cheated on you. I didn’t gamble or drink excessively. I had no real vices except the occasional cigarette and a beer in the evenings. When I wasn’t working, I was here. Yet you always wanted more.”

He looked lost and lonely. Confused. Maybe his absences would have been easier to bear if there had been women or he’d had a gambling or drinking problem. Instead his mistress had been his job, his vice the adrenaline of working a dangerous job.

“Time,” she finally answered. “I wanted your time.”

“I gave you my time, Tess. Every minute not spent working, I spent with you.”

“I got what was leftover and only on the condition that work didn’t need you.” Painful memories of the times she’d needed him crowded her thoughts. There had been several, but two stood out among them.

“That’s not true.” His tone was angry. He always got angry when they discussed this.

“Yes. It’s true.”

“When? When was I ever not there for you?” He held up his hand to forestall her response. “Apart from the baby.”

Ah, the baby. Here was where the water got deep, but she pushed those thoughts away. “I asked,” she whispered. “So many times. Remember the lake?”

His brows creased and her heart sank. Of course he wouldn’t remember the lake.

“I asked you to go to the lake with me. I was… I needed you, Alex. I needed you with me. I needed to talk to you.”

“I had to work, Tess. I took the time off, but work—”

“It was always work. Don’t you see that? You used it as a crutch, as an excuse not to be with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Do you know why I asked you to move out, Alex? Do you really want to know why? Because I was already living alone. Because you had left me a long time ago.”

“Ah, Tessie. That’s not true.”

“It is.” She wiped the tears off her cheek and looked at the Christmas tree of memories. “I’m sure I wasn’t the perfect wife. Maybe I asked too much. Maybe I was too clingy. Too needy.”

“No. I didn’t…” He cleared his throat and looked down. “I didn’t know what to say to you after. I didn’t know what you needed from me.”

“You never asked. You just closed yourself off and never asked. Never spoke of…her.”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“I felt like you just wrote her off. That you didn’t care.”

His head jerked up. “Of course I cared. My God, Tess, what do you think I am? Some monster?”

“No. Not a monster.”

In her heart she knew it hadn’t been his fault. A quirk of fate. At the same time their daughter was sliding out of her body, way too early to survive on her own, Alex had been in a field, chasing a felon. During the foot race he’d lost his radio.

When he finally came, his grief had been written in the shadows of his eyes and the tremors coursing through his body. He’d held her and apologized, but already her heart had begun to harden. In her own grief, she’d lashed out, irrationally believing if he’d been there, she wouldn’t have gone into premature labor in the first place.

Moreover, it was still there. That anger. That grief. “Say her name,” she said. “I’ve never heard you say her name.”

His jaw muscle clenched and he looked away. “I can’t.”

“You can’t, what? Say her name?”

He shook his head, one quick jerk. “I’ve never said it out loud. I can’t.”

Thousands of times she’d cried over the fact she’d never hear the word “Mommy” from her firstborn’s lips. She’d never stopped to wonder if Alex mourned the loss of his first “Daddy”.

“Margaret,” she whispered. “Maggie.”

He blinked rapidly, as if clearing tears from his eyes. Tess didn’t have his self-control. Her tears rolled down her cheeks.

“There’ll be others,” people had told her. It’d taken two years for her to get pregnant with Maggie. Yes, maybe there could have been others, but there’d never be another Maggie.

She’d begged him for another baby, knowing only the need to fill her empty womb and her aching arms. Alex had argued it was too soon. Her persistence eventually wore him down, but their attempts proved unsuccessful.

“Did I push too hard?” she asked. “Wanting another baby? Did I do something wrong to push you away?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t you. I should have been there,” he said, the words coming out strained, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault. It just…is.” She’d said those exact words to herself so many times, but actually saying them out loud and to Alex made a difference somehow.

“We’re still married,” he said, repeating his earlier statement.

“Yes, we’re still married.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed. “I intend to keep it that way.”

“Alex—”

He pressed a finger on her lips. “I’m just giving you fair warning. I moved out once, but I have no intention of doing it again. I love you.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “And that’s a good place to start.”

Chapter Twelve

Alex pulled his hand from Tess’s and stood. “I’m going to bed. Would you care to join me?” Seductive invitation laced his words and brightened his eyes.

They’d talked and it had been a positive step forward, but they still had so much to work out. Was leaping into bed with him going too fast? Even though technically they were still married, she felt like they were in the beginning phases of a new, very fragile relationship. Would sleeping with him tip the scales in their favor, or push them toward something they weren’t ready for?

“I’m going to stay up a little longer,” she said finally.

His smile wavered and he nodded.

Tess stared at the tree as he made his way to his room. Each ornament symbolized a happy time in her life, but in between there had been sadness and heartache, fights and recriminations.

Could they be happy again?

Could they make their marriage work a second time around?

Would it be easier to play second fiddle to his career now that she had a burgeoning career of her own?

In the beginning, the Christmas tree had merely been a symbol of the season. Now it represented a lifetime of memories and heartache. A life she had once lived and, for some time, wanted to get away from.

She’d thought she’d been solving her problems by asking for a divorce, but now she wondered if she’d tried hard enough. Maybe Alex really didn’t understand how lonely she’d been. Maybe instead of shoving him out, she should have talked more.

She walked into her bedroom—the room Alex was using and the room they’d spent the last two nights in together. His clothes lay on the floor, right where he’d tossed them. Dirty socks sat next to the clothes hamper instead of inside it. Shoes were scattered everywhere. Believe it or not, she’d missed this. Maybe not the picking up of his stuff, but the mess of another person. The signs of another human being living in this house. She opened the bottom drawer of her dresser where she kept her summer T-shirts and shorts, listening with half an ear to Alex brushing his teeth. She searched by touch until she found what she was looking for.

With the box clutched to her breasts, she approached the tree. Alex had placed the ornaments in chronological order, starting at the bottom with the oldest and moving toward the top with the newest. Last year they hadn’t added a new ornament. There’d been too much heartache and maybe they’d both sensed the approach of the end.

With shaking hands, Tess opened the box, pulled the ornament out and carefully placed it near the top. The pink ball swayed and twisted, catching the light from the fireplace. With the tip of her finger, she traced the M engraved on the ball.

Maggie’s First Christmas.

She had bought it as soon as she discovered they were having a daughter. It had been her way of telling Alex. Maggie had died soon after.

She hugged her arms to her chest and glanced at the closed bedroom door. For two nights she’d slept in his arms. For two days he’d cared for her with tenderness and love. She ached for the touch of his hands on her bare skin, for the feel of his lips on hers—for the closeness they had once shared. She’d felt it, just a little, over the past two days when he was taking care of her. And she was adult enough to admit she wanted more. Always had. That’s what their problem had been. She’d wanted more. He was only willing to give it under certain conditions.

Would things be the same after they’d made love? Probably. But tonight she felt as if they’d made some progress. They’d talked about Maggie. They’d talked about the divorce. There was more, but Alex was right, everything couldn’t be resolved in one night. It had taken months for their marriage to fall apart. It would take months to rebuild it.

If they were both willing. Which it seemed they were.

Another step in the right direction would be making love. A reconnection of something they both missed. A joining of past and present to make a new future.

Alex lay in bed and looked through the darkness at Tess standing in the doorway. She stood just inside the door, the light from the hall outlining her, turning her hair to fire. Like an angel. A Christmas angel.

Because he was so attuned to her emotions, because he loved her so much, he sensed her hesitation and held his breath in anticipation.

Waiting.

Wondering.

Hoping.

Praying.

For what seemed like an eternity, she stood perfectly still.

When she finally stepped inside, Alex released his breath, knowing he had somehow won this round in her internal debate. He didn’t know what had tipped the scales in his favor. It was enough she’d chosen to come to him.

He raised himself up on his elbows and stared at her.

She held her hand out to him. “Make love to me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He heard in his heart the emotional appeal and the walls of her resistance crumbling. In answer, and because he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet, he pushed the covers off and stood beside the bed. His knee ached, but he ignored it and the cane beside the bed.

She led him into the living room where the fire burned brightly and the lights on the tree twinkled. A comforter was spread on the floor, Othello curled in the center of it. Tess laughed and nudged the dog with her toe. He gave a big yawn, stood, stretched and wandered away.

Alex’s heart took permanent residence in his throat. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe as he gazed at his wife.

With shaking hands, he drew her to him. “I meant it when I said I’m not leaving again.”

“I know.”

She pressed her nose into his T-shirt and he bit back a groan. He’d buried his emotions deep and held his desire in check for so long that his body trembled and he didn’t know if he had any restraint left within him.

He ran his hands up and down her arms, loving the softness and warmth of her even through the thick flannel pajamas.

Slowly he sank to the floor, but it wasn’t a graceful movement. His knee gave out and he fell on his ass, taking Tess with him. They laughed. Any other time he would have been mortified and ashamed that he couldn’t even get to the floor to make love, but tonight he didn’t care. None of that mattered now.

Tess wrapped her arms around his waist and rolled, pulling him on top. He planted his hands on the sides of her head and lifted his weight off her. He’d wanted to make love to her almost since he’d moved back, but he also knew that making love wasn’t going to solve their problems. What if he did the wrong thing? What if he drove her away again?

His erection brushed against her thigh and his thoughts went south. She reached for him and he grabbed her hand. “Only if you’re sure,” he said, though the words about killed him.

Her fingers flexed. “Oh, I’m sure.” She lifted her hips to tug at her pajama bottoms and Alex pulled his T-shirt over his head. She had to help ease his shorts over his knee, but he didn’t mind that either. It was strangely erotic.

Slow, Juran. Take it slow. Don’t scare her with your sex-deprived mind.

Keeping his hands to himself proved impossible, especially when a naked Tess was beneath him. He touched a rosy nipple and it sprang to life. His breathing hitched and he leaned in to lick the aureole. She arched against him and grabbed his ears, making him chuckle.

“Lord, Tess, I want to go slow, to make it special. But I don’t know if I can.”

Her smile was sweet and seductive. What little sanity he managed to gather shattered in the face of that smile.

“Forget about slow, Alex. There’s time enough for that later.”

Alex buried his face in her hair. Later. For six months there had been no later. Now, maybe…

His thoughts trailed off. He surged inside her and paused to savor the tightness, the wetness and the eagerness of his beautiful wife.

His knee set up a symphony that drowned the pleasure. He cursed then groaned, this time in pain.

Tess stiffened. “Oh, God, your knee. I completely forgot. I’m sorry.”

He rolled to his back, gritting his teeth—angry, frustrated and with his cock pulsing with each beat of his overactive heart. She pushed out from underneath him and scrambled away.

“You can’t leave me like this, Tess.”

A smile curved her lips and her eyes twinkled with mischief. She trailed a finger along his straining erection. His penis jumped beneath her hand and he sucked in a breath.

“I guess then we’ll have to do something about this…er…little problem,” she said.

“Mmmmm.” Speech proved impossible. He clutched the comforter in both fists and gave up any control he thought he might have possessed.

Her fingers, feather-light on his skin, made his hips arch off the floor in silent invitation for more, less, anything she was willing to give.

“I love you, Tessie.” The words hovered in the air, caught on the currents of their desire.

Her gaze, soft and moist, lifted to meet his. “I’ve always loved you, Alex.”

A weight that had been sitting on his shoulders disappeared and he felt free for the first time in a year. For now the guilt, the sorrow, the pain was gone.

Her soft curves fit into his angles and grooves, as if she’d been born just for him. The feeling was not a new one. He’d thought it a thousand times in the past as she’d lain on top of him, but this time the long absence from her body and the realization that what they had could so easily be taken away again made it more real.

He reached between them and searched for the exact spot that would send her flying. He wanted to see her come apart in his arms. He wanted to hear her cry out. He’d missed that the most—giving her pleasure.

Her head fell forward on his shoulder, her soft hair sliding over his skin like silk as she rode his cock and his hand.

“Your knee.” The words came out in tiny pants that nearly drove him insane.

“Forget my knee. With you on top it doesn’t hurt.”

At this point a different throbbing diminished any other discomfort.

She closed her eyes and arched her back. How many times had he looked up at her like this? Lord, how he’d missed it. Missed her.

“Look at me, Tessie.”

She lifted her eyelids at his whispered command. Stunned, Alex could only stare into the green depths of her eyes, reading every emotion she’d ever felt. Pleasure, desire, anger, fear, happiness and sadness. Her breathing increased, her body tensed and her eyes grew unfocused. The muscles surrounding him quivered and clenched. Tess threw her head back and called out his name.

He arched his back and gritted his teeth. His hips pumped and he thrust deeply, sending himself over the edge and pouring his heart and soul into her. And filling up the void inside him.

Tess was curled in his arms, heating one side of him while the fire warmed the other. It was a moment he wanted to savor forever.

He’d spent six months without her laughter and tears, without her calming presence and sense of humor. He’d bought root beer to put in his refrigerator just so he had the illusion of her company. He didn’t even like root beer.

Never again. Never again would he make the mistake of leaving her.

She stirred and opened her eyes.

“You need to get in bed. Lying on the cold floor won’t help the pneumonia.” He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her, tasting root beer and rye bread.

“Your knee hurts,” she said, breaking off between kisses, then coming back for more.

“And you’ve been sick.” He nibbled her ear in the spot he knew from experience drove her wild.

“You need to rest,” she said, grinding her pelvis into him.

He almost lost it right there. Christ almighty, he’d had her just fifteen minutes ago.

“And you need to sleep.”

“Later.”

He grinned. “Later.”

A long time later Alex rolled over and gathered Tess close. They’d eventually made it to bed, but had neither rested nor slept. They had six months to make up for and it seemed they were going to do it all in one night.

He’d hoped and prayed for this reconciliation. Now that it was here, he was scared. He couldn’t lose her again, yet didn’t know what to do to keep her. She wanted him to change and he didn’t know if he could.

Just the thought of sitting at a desk, pushing papers, even if they were arrest reports, made his stomach hurt. He needed the road, a cruiser and the constant contact with civilians and their problems. He liked helping people.

Yet, he also knew firsthand what life without Tess was like. The loneliness, the grief and sorrow. And he’d hated it. While they were separated, he’d gone to work to escape, to fill the hours and to keep himself from thinking of his failed marriage, but the work hadn’t excited him as it had in the past. Looking back on those months, he realized he wasn’t as fulfilled as when he’d been with Tess.

So was it the career that had made him the man he was, or Tess? A combination of both? The truth lay before him like a huge crater he had to cross but didn’t know how. In order to keep Tess, he had to change who he was.

He didn’t know if he could do it.

Restless, he pushed the covers off and swung his legs out of bed. Tess mumbled and rolled over. Her hair covered his pillow and he reached out to touch a silky strand. A memory surfaced of him reaching for her hair, of her turning and slipping away from him, out of his grasp. He’d been in the hospital, still drugged from the surgery. She wouldn’t slip away from him again. He’d make sure of it.

After pulling on an abandoned pair of jeans and grabbing his cane, he quietly left the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Out in the family room, he grabbed the fireplace poker and broke down the smoldering logs.

He closed the glass doors and turned to switch the lights off the tree. A new ornament caught his attention. Curious, he turned the pink ball until he could read the etching.

Maggie’s First Christmas.

He stepped back, nearly stumbling. Blindly he groped behind him for the couch and sank into it, wiping the sweat on his brow and upper lip.

Your daughter, Alex. Say it. Say her name. I’ve never heard you say her name.

I can’t.

A sob broke through his clenched lips.

Your daughter, Alex.

Your daughter.

“Maggie,” he whispered to the silent house, finally crossing that line and admitting she had been real. Maggie. He swiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

The guilt was constant. Eating at him. He’d learned early on that the emotion would stay with him forever.

He’d been chasing the scum of the earth in a field, all alone, while his daughter slipped from the safety of Tess’s womb into the harsh realities of the world. He was cuffing the dirtbag when his daughter drew her first and last breath.

He returned to the police station, pumped up on adrenaline, ecstatic he’d gotten his man, while Tess lay in a hospital bed, devastated at the loss of their daughter.

Even though he received a royal chewing out for not calling backup and not following officer safety procedures, his fellow officers slapped him on the back and demanded he tell the story again and again—while his daughter’s cold body lay in the hospital morgue.

He happily complied, drunk on his success.

While Tess cried all alone, unable to find him.

Hours later the dispatcher remembered to call him. He raced to the hospital, his stomach twisting in fear. He couldn’t lose Tess. He prayed for God to save Tess instead of the baby. They could have other babies, just please, God, don’t take Tess.

But God hadn’t listened. He’d taken the baby—and Tess too.

He looked up at the ornament that mocked him, a tangible reminder of what an awful father he had been. Secretly he’d been relieved when Tess hadn’t been able to get pregnant a second time.

It got to the point that he couldn’t stand to come home to her haunted eyes and pleas for another child. He’d worked more, took on extra shifts, extra details. Said yes to things he should have said no to.

No wonder she’d asked him to leave. Just as he’d been a horrible father, he’d been a lousy husband, turning away when she needed him the most, closing his eyes to her pain, his ears to her cries.

He hung his head in shame and guilt. Always the guilt. Unrelenting guilt.

It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. It just…is.

Alex pushed up from the couch and limped silently to the window. Snow was falling again. It’s not your fault.

The need to hold Tess, to feel her curled up next to him, drove him to the bedroom. She lay half on his side of the bed, half on hers, hair covering her face, hand curled under her cheek. He pulled off his jeans and nudged her over. He took her in his arms, burying his nose in her hair, fighting the tears and guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Tessie,” he whispered into the darkness.

It’s no one’s fault, Alex.

Would she have lost the baby if he’d been there? Margaret. Maggie. His daughter.

It just…is.

What if Maggie had lived? Where would he and Tess be then? Was it fair to Maggie to end their relationship? Was it fair to either of them?

I love you. And that’s a good place to start.

He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on Tess. Love had gotten them here. Maybe love would be enough see them through.

Chapter Thirteen

The winter storm may have stopped, leaving mounds of snow and ice in its path, but a storm was still raging inside Tess. She filled the sink with hot water and squirted in dish detergent, absently swirling her hand through the bubbles.

The last three days had been like a honeymoon. By unspoken agreement, she and Alex had locked themselves inside, ignoring the phone, emerging only to let Othello out and raid the refrigerator.

Since the storm ended Alex had taken to prowling the rooms, bored and frustrated. He still used the cane, but didn’t lean on it as much as before. She scrubbed the bowl, using more force than necessary.

Her thoughts had driven her to the kitchen to create and bake. Alex didn’t have that luxury. He couldn’t return to work yet and she could see in his tormented eyes that the thought ate at him.

She shoved the bowl under the faucet and rinsed off the soap. She couldn’t lose him again, yet didn’t want to go back to the life they’d had before. She wanted him the way she’d had him the last two days—to herself, without the pressing weight of his career.

Yet, deep down she knew that wasn’t possible. Alex was a cop. It wasn’t what he did, it was who he was. Already he was restless with a need to do something other than toss the ball to the dog and watch her bake.

Large warm hands crept up her back and under her shirt. Her head fell back onto Alex’s shoulder and she put the bowl on the drying rack. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his beard rasped against her skin, causing heat to curl low in her belly, making her legs weak and her breath rush out of her.

“Been baking?” he asked between kisses. He turned her around, his hands rubbing her back. Brown eyes darkened when he didn’t feel a bra. “Storm’s over.”

She pushed away from him. “Yes, storm’s over.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He stepped back and held his arms out to his sides. “Hey look, ma, no cane!” He spun in an awkward circle, sort of half-hopping, half-shuffling.

“Do you think you should be doing that?”

The bright excitement in his eyes dimmed and his hands dropped to his sides. “What’s wrong, Tessie?”

She shook her head and sighed. “I’m just worried you’re overdoing it.” Moving too fast. Moving away from her.

He pulled her back into his arms. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Let me work through it with you. I can’t save this marriage alone.”

She laid her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed her back. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you’re thinking. I thought you’d be happy I could walk without the cane.”

“I am happy.”

“You don’t want me to go back to work.” He pulled away and looked in her eyes. “I have to go back, Tess. You know that.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be like before, I promise.”

She looked away, crossed her arms under her breasts and felt the heavy weight of Alex’s stare. “You’ve said that before,” she said softly.

He sighed. “Tess. Shit.” He turned away, ran a hand through his hair. “I screwed up before. I know that.” He turned back to her. “This time will be different, I swear.”

The back of her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. “I want to believe you. I really do.”

He took a step forward. “Trust me. I love you, Tessie.”

“Oh, Alex. I love you, too. I just… I’m afraid.”

He gathered her in his arms. “I am too, Tess. More afraid than I’ve ever been. I’m so damn scared I’m going to blow it. I can’t lose you again.”

She laid her cheek on his shoulder and didn’t know what to say. It seemed an impossible situation, with both of them losing.

***

Alex stood at the doors of the police station and watched Tess’s van turn the corner. A mix of emotions churned inside him. Excitement to be walking back into the PD, even if it wasn’t to work, and fear that he was losing Tess all over again. They hadn’t accomplished anything. She was still afraid to trust him, and sometimes he wondered if she should trust him.

He pushed through the doors and stashed his cane behind a decorative palm. It was one thing to hobble around the house without it, but he knew he wasn’t quite ready to ditch it totally even though he was amazed at how quickly he was healing. It’d been nearly three weeks since his shooting. According to the doctors’ timeline, he shouldn’t be this far along for another month or so. Which gave him hope that he’d be back on the road much sooner than even he’d expected.

He made his way toward the report writing room. He’d told Tess he had a meeting concerning the investigation. No way would he admit the truth. So what does that tell you, Juran? You haven’t changed one bit. No wonder she doesn’t believe anything you say.

It was better she didn’t know or she’d worry, and he didn’t want her worrying. She’d done enough of that already.

He pushed open the door and stepped in. Uniformed officers were sitting on desks and in chairs, others were leaning against walls, waiting for roll call. It was the usual chaos—friendly ribbing, mild curses and ringing phones. A spitball sailed passed his ear. Two officers were engaged in a minor wrestling match in the far corner.

He missed this place—missed the camaraderie, the jokes only another officer would understand, and the feeling of knowing he had a purpose in life. An ache of longing to once again be a part of this brotherhood hit him low in the gut and his fists clenched in frustration. This was what Tess feared the most. This connection, this need to be with these men more than with her.

Tony, still in uniform, entered from a door on the other side of the room. He stopped to talk to a few officers, jabbing them in the arm in a friendly gesture and laughing with them. He spotted Alex and gave a laid-back salute.

“Juran’s here,” he said.

Everyone turned to look. Alex leaned casually against the doorframe to take the weight off his aching knee.

“Hey, Juran, you back for good?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not yet, Harrison.”

Harrison groaned good-naturedly. “Give us a break, Juran. We’re having withdrawals. We need a dose of Tess’s cookies.” They all laughed, including Alex. The guys loved it when Tess baked a batch of cookies for them and complained when, for the six months they’d been separated, there hadn’t been any.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked, knowing and anticipating the answer. He wasn’t disappointed. Police officers were complainers by nature. Every one of them broke into a chorus of the wrongdoings of the department and the shittiness of life in general.

Some things never changed and he was damn glad of it. It was like coming home.

Tony wound his way through the group. “You sure you still want to do this?” he asked under his breath.

Alex nodded.

“Okay, then, bro, just let me change and we’ll be on our way.”

“Hey, Juran, what’s the deal with all the calls to your house lately? Seeing the bogeyman around every corner?”

The room went silent. Alex’s smile slipped. Tony stopped, his gaze going to Alex.

“Way to go, asshole,” someone muttered.

“Better watch it, Bertram. Juran chews up and spits out FNGs like you.” Harrison scowled at the younger officer. An FNG himself—frigging new guy.

“Hey,” someone else called out. “Remember that one? What was his name? Abbott?”

Harrison’s face brightened and he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it. Claimed to be an ex-Marine. Juran rode his ass so hard the guy quit. Upton said he cried when he put his notice in. Said Juran was too hard on him.”

“Is that what everyone thinks?” Alex asked, his voice quiet. “You think I’m seeing things? Making things up?”

Another uncomfortable silence fell until someone said, “Hell no, Alex.”

Alex pushed away from the doorframe and shot his coworkers a disgusted look. “Maybe when your wives are threatened and your homes vandalized, you’ll understand.”

A throat cleared, feet shuffled.

Alex searched the faces of his fellow officers. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, Blankenship.”

He walked out, painfully aware that his limp was more pronounced than usual.

***

Tess pulled her glove off with her teeth and rummaged through her coat pocket for Alex’s keys. She’d been meaning to come to his apartment and pack up the rest of his clothes. With Alex in his meeting, now was as good a time as any.

She stopped in front of the door marked 404, unlocked it and pushed it open. The place smelled of stale air and curry from the apartment next door. A lone ray of light shone through the half-closed drapes, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air and a secondhand couch in front of an old TV perched on a microwave stand.

This was where Alex had lived for the past six months? There was nothing here to make it a home, just a stopping-off place to eat, shower and sleep. How depressing.

She shook off her thoughts and headed into the kitchen with the intention of cleaning out the refrigerator. A mug sat next to the sink, cold coffee and mold congealing in it. Tess threw it away, mug and all. She opened the refrigerator and peered in, not surprised to see a bottle of beer and a shriveled carrot, but puzzled at the six-pack of root beer. Alex didn’t even like root beer.

A sound came from the living room, as if someone was walking around in there. Tess closed the refrigerator door and cocked her head to listen but only heard canned laughter from the TV next door. She poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Tony? Alex?” The surge of the furnace kicking on and the tick of the water heater answered.

Tess shrugged, ducked back into the kitchen and opened the freezer to find three plastic takeout containers of desserts she’d baked for local delis. They were covered in frost and the dates on them were from the beginning of December.

“Oh, Alex.” Her heart hurt a little more as she reached for the desserts, then pulled back, deciding to leave them for now. Root beer and her desserts. What was that all about?

She gathered the rest of the trash and set the overstuffed bag beside the kitchen door to take out later, then headed toward Alex’s bedroom. She stopped and stared at the front door, frowning. She was almost positive she’d shut it.

So why was it standing open?

***

“Don’t worry about them,” Tony turned the key in the ignition.

Alex looked out the side window. “That’s what they think, isn’t it? That I’m making things up. Seeing the bogeyman.”

“Nah. Well, just a few. You know, the new guys. But we’ll set ’em straight.”

“What are they saying?”

Tony merged into traffic, but kept silent.

“Tell me what they’re saying.”

His partner’s lips thinned.

Alex gripped his cane between his legs. “They think I’m nuts. That I’ve gone off the deep end. What’s gonna happen when the shooter turns out to be the person doing this, Tony? What’s gonna happen when he breaks into my house one night and I call for backup? They’re not going to show and it’ll be up to me.” Barely leashed anger had him tapping his cane. “You know what? Fuck it. Fuck them. I don’t need ’em. I can protect Tess without their damn help.”

“Look, Alex, cops talk. They come up with wild theories. Today you’re the hot topic. Tomorrow it’ll be someone else. You know the drill, just wait and someone else will do something stupid to take the heat off you. Besides, it’s not all of them, just a few idiots who don’t know any better.”

“So you think what I believe is stupid?”

Tony shook his head, pulled over and threw the car in park. “Look, man, I believe you, okay? You’re my partner and I trust your instincts.”

Alex looked at the dingy gray warehouses. The snow and the darkening day made everything eerily quiet. He looked toward the place where he’d been shot, cold apprehension curling in his gut. Did he trust his instincts?

***

Tess frowned and closed the door with a firm click.

Nothing but the wind, Tess.

Wind in an inside hallway?

She pushed the thought away. She must not have closed it tightly enough and when the furnace clicked on, the change in pressure forced it open.

She entered the bedroom, intent on grabbing what clothes she could and getting out so she could pick Alex up from his meeting.

An old comforter from the first days of their marriage lay in a ball on the floor. The covers and sheets were pushed back as if Alex had just climbed out. She touched the cold sheets, imagining him sleeping here. She couldn’t picture Alex living alone here, watching the TV in the other room, preparing for work. Undercover work. She hadn’t even asked about his undercover work. What if that’s what he wanted to go back to instead of patrol? Wearily she rubbed her eyes. They both wanted the marriage to work and that was a definite step in the right direction.

She picked up the comforter and smoothed the sheets, thinking that the last time he’d lain here was the morning before he was shot. Life was so damn unpredictable. One moment he was working, the next he was shot. One moment they were married, the next…

She shook those thoughts away and pulled out a few shirts and a pair of dress pants from his closet, then dropped to her knees and crawled in to search for the duffel bag he always kept on the floor of their closet. Her fingers found the cloth strap and she tugged. Shoes, a tie and a family of dust bunnies came with it. She scooped all the shoes out, searching for his dress shoes, muttering to herself when she couldn’t find the mate.

She reached toward the back of the closet for a lone shoe. The floorboard shifted behind her. She froze. Swallowed. Closed her eyes. Ragged breathing reached out to her, in counterpoint to her own unsteady breaths.

Chapter Fourteen

The tapping of Alex’s cane echoed off the metal walls of the warehouses.

“AJ?”

He ignored Tony and, just like he had that fateful night, listened to the long wail of a barge horn floating down the river.

He stopped and looked at the ground where Jason had died. The memories pushed at his mind, trying to find a release.

The kid should have been home, fast asleep, not in the middle of the warehouse district dealing drugs. He remembered thinking Jason looked cocky at first, but the cockiness had vanished when they both realized someone else was there.

Another voice speaking from the darkness. Just at the edge of the lights. Alex strained to remember, to see who had been standing there, but nothing came to him. It was as if that part of his memory had been erased because it jumped, out of sequence, to shots being fired. He remembered rolling. He remembered pain. Blood. Jason’s eyes looking at him, accusing him. Sirens. More blood. Pouring between his fingers, making the cold pavement slick.

He remembered fighting to stay awake. To tell Tony that he knew the shooter.

***

Strong arms wrapped around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Hot breath brushed her bare neck. She tried to scream but he turned her around and pressed hard, wet lips against hers, stealing her breath and swallowing her scream. His erection pushed into her stomach. She swallowed bile and struggled to pull away, to get a look at him, but he was wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and a black ski mask over his face.

With a growl, he spun her so her back was pressed against his chest and his arms pinned hers to her side. She struggled, panic clawing at her thoughts.

“Did you get the Christmas present I left on your front porch? I did that for you, Tess. What’d you think?”

She went still. Good God, he knew her name.

He shifted.

Don’t let him get off center or you’re screwed. All those times Alex had wrestled with her—coaching her on how to get out of certain holds, telling her what to do if she were attacked—came back. It’d been a game to her, something fun they would do together. Never did she think she’d actually have to use those moves.

Get your hand underneath his arm. Loosen his hold, she heard Alex say.

She tried to lift her arms, to force his hands apart, but he was too strong and she felt her terror begin to drag her under.

He was going to rape her. She knew that as sure as she knew that she would fight him with everything she had.

Wet, disgusting lips touched her neck and she screamed. His hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her cry. Had the person in the next apartment heard her over the TV? Oh please, please have heard me. Please help me.

She bit his hand.

He yanked it away. “Goddamn bitch,” he whispered harshly.

Twist into the hold, he won’t be expecting that.

Tess went one better. She twisted and reared her head back at the same time, catching the guy in the nose. He cried out and she slipped her arms free, spun and kicked him in the balls. What started as a yell turned into a high-pitched squeak. His knees buckled and Tess sprinted for the door.

***

Alex settled on the bar stool and took a long drink of beer. His hands were still shaking, but the fear had faded.

Tony grabbed his own beer, swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” played in the background, accompanied by low laughter and the clacking of billiard balls.

The bartender, a woman with a nose ring and eyes lined in black, washed glasses, her gaze going to the mirror above her head to check out the room behind her.

Tony nearly drained his entire bottle. “Okay, I’m fortified. Tell me what happened back there.”

Alex ran a shaky hand through his hair and grabbed a pretzel from the bowl in front of them, breaking it in half. “I talked to the guy that night.”

“What’d you talk about?”

Alex crushed the pretzel in his fist. “I don’t remember.” God damn, this was beyond frustrating. “I just remember knowing the guy.”

“What’d he look like?”

Alex opened his fist. Crumbs fell from his finger into a little pile on the bar. “Can’t remember. I didn’t see him at first because he stuck to the shadows, then he stepped into the light and I was shocked.”

Tony pulled the bowl of pretzels in front of him and grabbed two. “What’d his voice sound like? How tall was he? Slight build? Bulky? Black? White?”

“Medium height. Shorter than me, but not by much. Caucasian.”

“Voice?”

“Can’t remember.” Damn it all to hell!

“But you know him?”

“I know him.”

“How?”

Alex’s thoughts turned inward, remembering his fear for Tess’s safety and the overpowering need to give Tony a name, to extract a promise from his best friend to watch over Tess, to protect her. The name eluded him now, but he still feared for Tess’s safety. Damn it, he’d been right all along. This guy was still after him and now he was after Tess.

“What did I say to you after you got there?” he asked.

“Hell, Alex, I don’t know. You were talking about Tess. Wanted me to tell her you loved her. I was busy calling for the ambulance and keeping your white ass from bleeding out.”

“Is that what I said? ‘Tell Tess I love her’?”

Tony shook his head, stirring his finger through the pretzels in the bowl. “I guess. It all happened so fast and we were all so shocked. It was supposed to be a routine buy, not a damn bloodbath.”

Tony’s voice shook. His shooting had been hard on his longtime partner and Tony was dealing with his own shit about that night. Tony’s cell phone chirped and he put his beer down to answer it. “Blankenship.”

Alex took another swallow of beer and ate a pretzel. Who the hell was the shooter and how did he know him?

“When?”

Tony’s gaze met his and Alex’s stomach lurched.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Tony flipped his phone shut and slid off the barstool. “Pay the lady, Juran. We gotta go.”

Alex reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “What’s up?”

“It’s Tess.”

***

He hadn’t expected her at the apartment. But once he saw her, he had to get closer. And once he got closer, he’d had to touch her.

Her body, wrapped in his arms, sent a fire through him no whore or self-gratification could match. When his hard dick pressed into her, he’d known he had to make her his. Take Juran’s woman from him. Make the prick watch. That’d show him.

Of course she might have something to say about that. She’d fought him like a banshee.

No matter.

He loved it when a woman fought, when she didn’t know what was best for her. He could show her what was best, show her he was best.

Oh, yeah.

He’d show her.

***

Alex had the car door open before Tony threw it in park. He jumped out, ignoring his knee and the cane lying on the floor.

Two cruisers sat in front of his apartment complex, their red-and-blue lights twirling. Tess was talking to Jackson, her arms wrapped around her middle, her back to the street so she didn’t see him.

Upton stepped in front of him. “She’s fine,” he said, softly but firmly. “Alex, look at me.”

He tore his eyes from Tess and looked at Upton.

“She’s holding on just fine. Let her finish her report to Jackson, then you can go to her.”

“What happened?”

“Jackson got a call about a woman being attacked. As soon as he discovered it was Tess, he called me. Apparently some guy entered your apartment while she was there.”

Oh, God. Oh, shit.

“Did you catch him?”

Upton hesitated. “We’re still looking, but we have something to go on. Not many men wondering the street with a bloody nose and clutching his balls. She’s a trooper, Juran. She fought back and got out. You should be proud of her.”

Tess clasped her arms tighter around herself and shivered. Jackson awkwardly patted her on the shoulder and walked away. She pushed a strand of hair out of her eye and looked at the apartment building, the unnatural paleness in her cheeks a stark contrast to the bright red of her hair. She sniffed and rubbed a finger under her nose.

“Tess?”

She spun around, her hand going to her mouth, fear flaring in her eyes. He closed the distance between them and folded her in his arms.

She laid her cheek on his chest. “Take me home,” she said, her voice whispery thin.

Alex stroked her hair, his gaze scanning the area, looking for anyone out of place.

“Please, Alex, take me home.”

Tess first. Let the cops deal with the guy. “Sure, baby.”

He tucked her in the crook of his arm and helped her into the van, then took the keys from her lifeless fingers and climbed in the driver’s side. Tony appeared and handed Alex his cane through the open window.

“You okay to drive?” He glanced at Tess.

“Fine,” he said.

Upton stepped up next to Tony. “She going to be okay?” He tilted his head toward Tess.

Alex inserted the key in the ignition. “Just catch the bastard.”

Alex shut off the engine and turned to Tess. All the way home she’d stared out the front windshield with her hands twisted in her lap. He’d competently dealt with hysterical females before, but Tess’s expressionless face unnerved him.

“Tess?”

She turned to him, her face pale, one hand on her stomach. “Keys.”

“Tess—”

She held out a shaking hand, the only indication of her controlled emotions. “Keys.”

With a sigh, Alex handed them over. She scrambled out of the van and, slipping and sliding over the melting ice, hurried to the front door. Alex grabbed his cane and followed Tess inside, wishing he could move faster.

Her coat lay on the floor. Gloves, a scarf and shoes trailed a path down the hall. Othello came to him and whined, his big brown eyes concerned.

Alex found her in the bathroom, crouched over the toilet, retching. He wet a washcloth and clumsily sank down beside her to wipe her face and pull her hair out of her eyes.

When the worst of it seemed to be over, she leaned back on her heels and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Alex handed her a glass of water and she rinsed out her mouth. “Feel better?”

“No.”

Alex took her hand and stood, using the wall as support. “Want to lie down?”

He led her to the bedroom where he pulled down the covers. Hard to believe that just this morning they’d lain there in each other’s arms and laughed.

Tess curled into a ball and tugged the blankets over her shoulder. Her body shook and she closed her eyes. One lone tear traveled across her cheek, soaking into the pillow.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t.” He limped around the bed, toed his shoes off and climbed in next to her. Once again he hadn’t been there when she’d needed him. Once again he’d failed her.

When he closed his eyes, Jason’s eyes stared back at him—accusing, unseeing. He drifted into that no-man’s-land of being half-asleep, half-awake, that place where nightmares easily took over.

He lay on the cold ground, blood pouring from his leg, the sound of receding footsteps echoing off the metal walls and looked at the lifeless eyes of Tess.

In his dream a scream ripped from his throat and ended on an agonizing sob. He reached for her and his hand, searching for something he feared he’d never again hold, folded into a fist and dropped to the pavement while sirens blared in the background.

***

Tess opened her eyes to find Alex sitting in a chair reading a book, his feet propped beside her on the bed. He wore the glasses he’d had on the night he’d baked her cookies.

He turned the page and glanced at her, then stilled. “You’re awake.”

“When did you start wearing glasses?” Beneath the covers, she pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself as small as possible.

“Before Thanksgiving.” Slowly he bent the corner of his page and closed the book with a soft thwap. “I hate them, but I can’t read without them.”

“I like them. They make you look—”

“Sexy?” He smiled, although his eyes were serious behind the lenses.

She smiled too, or at least tried. “I did everything you told me to. All those self-defense moves. They work.”

He blew out a breath and took his glasses off. “Jesus, Tess.”

“He was going to rape me.”

Alex closed his eyes and dropped his head back. “Shit.”

“Thank you. For teaching me.”

He slid his feet to the floor and moved to the edge of the bed to brush her hair off her face. “Do you feel sick anymore?”

She shook her head and looked at the wall.

“Do you think, maybe, you should talk to someone about this? Maybe see a doctor to make sure you’re okay?”

“No.” She didn’t want to talk about it to a stranger, didn’t want a doctor probing her when she knew she wasn’t hurt.

“Maybe you should. I mean, I’m here and I’ll listen, but I’m not a professional.”

“No.”

“Tessie.”

She swung her gaze to his. “No.”

***

The next few weeks were hell for Alex. At night he held Tess while she cried and during the day he hovered. She hated the hovering, but he couldn’t help it. When he let her out of his sight, his chest got tight and he found it hard to breathe. Like a panic attack.

“I thought the door had popped open when the furnace kicked on,” she said one day. She was mixing some sort of batter and he was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. It took him a while to figure out what she was talking about and when he did, he couldn’t move.

“I think that’s when he entered the apartment.” She measured salt and poured it into the batter.

That day set a pattern. Tess seemed to feel more comfortable telling him what happened in bits and pieces and only while she was baking. Of course he’d read the report, but this was different. This was Tess working it out in her mind, and he was lost as to how to help her.

“I could feel his erection pressing into me. That’s when I knew he wanted to rape me,” she said another day.

The coffee Alex had been drinking churned in his stomach. “Tess,” he said, the word strangled. But she didn’t seem to hear.

“I grabbed his balls.”

“Good for you.”

And she smiled. The first real smile he’d seen since that day.

They hadn’t made love. She didn’t push him away, in fact, wanted him to hold her, but they hadn’t made love and it angered him that someone had taken that connection away.

Slowly, as the pies, cakes and cookies began to fill every available space on the counter and as the days lengthened, Alex began to see a change in Tess. An acceptance. A moving forward. He still wanted her to see a professional and she still refused, but he could see a difference. More smiles. A little laughter. Less holding at night and more sleeping. The nightmares diminished.

But they still hadn’t made love.

Chapter Fifteen

Othello bounded through the snow, alternately barking and sniffing at whatever caught his attention. Alex buried his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and blew a vapor of breath into the cold morning air. He sniffed and stamped his feet. He was damn cold, yet not ready to go inside. He’d come to hate it when Tess baked. He could feel himself tense up, waiting for the next bombshell she would drop. Today, he stayed outside with Othello. Valentine’s Day had passed weeks ago and with it the flurry of baking that Tess had to do for her clients. Yet they had more food than they knew what to do with. She’d even given stuff to Tony, but he was overloaded so he took it to the homeless shelters.

Othello lifted a leg to water the dead rose bush next to the house, turned to inspect his handiwork, then trotted off.

The soft crunch of snow and slight movement to his right caught Alex’s attention. Just as he turned, something cold and hard smacked him in the face, obliterating the world into white.

Tess’s laughter rang through the still air. Alex spit the snow out of his mouth and pulled his hands from his pockets to wipe off his face. Othello barked and ran circles around Tess. The cold had turned her cheeks rosy and her nose red. Her fiery hair spilled out from beneath a pink knit hat. Bright green mittens covered her hands. She was a study in color and it thrilled him to see her out of the kitchen and laughing for once.

With a growl, he scooped up a handful of snow and patted it into a perfect projectile. “You should know by now not to mess with the best snowball fighter around.” He advanced, tossing the snowball from hand to hand.

Tess shrieked and bolted for the tree.

Alex loped after her. Othello streaked after her, barking. He wasn’t worried. They were in a fenced yard. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Tess stopped and turned, her hands held out. “Now, Alex…”

“It’s a little late for peace negotiations, Tess.”

She backed up a step and giggled again, the sound so wonderful it made him weak in the knees. “Your knee.”

“Never felt better.” Except for the weak-in-the-knees part but that had nothing to do with his surgery. He tossed the snowball in the air again and smirked. He barely limped anymore and used the cane only when Tess got bitchy about it. At his next visit to Dr. Ford he would ask about returning to work. It was almost March and he was more than ready. But first, he had a war to wage with his wife.

Alex launched his weapon and Tess ducked, but he’d anticipated the feint and aimed correctly. The snowball hit her square in the back. Tess dropped to one knee and grabbed a handful of snow. He did the same.

“One to one, Tessie. Give up.”

“No way, Juran.” She squished the snow together and made an oval-shaped ball. She threw it and it came apart before it ever reached him, snow blowing everywhere.

He snorted. “You’re such a girl.”

“I seem to recall there’re times you like that about me.”

Oh, yeah. Snowball-throwing aside, he definitely liked her as a girl. But it’d been a long time since he’d seen that side of her and her words, thrown at him in fun, stirred him. His jeans suddenly became tight.

He advanced. Tess retreated. Othello stood between them looking back and forth. Alex took another step forward and Tess smiled, her expression mischievous.

“Come on, big boy,” she taunted, wiggling her fingers at him. “Bring it on.”

“Tessie, baby, your mouth just wrote a check you can’t cash.”

Her eyes got wide, mocking. “Oooh, big words, from a big man.”

He ran. She laughed and turned. Othello jumped in front of her and Tess went down. Alex fell on top of her, pinning her to the cold, snow-covered ground.

“Uncle,” she gasped, pushing hair out of her face with those bright green mittens.

“Ha! There’s no uncle in war. You’re my prisoner now.” Alex flipped her onto her back and pressed his weight into her.

Tess laughed and, too late, he realized he’d made a grave tactical error in not disarming her. She stuffed her snowball down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, Tess, that was a mistake.”

“Yeah? Watcha gonna do about it?”

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “Shoving snowballs down your enemy’s shirt calls for strict disciplinary procedures. I’m sorry, honey, but I must follow orders.”

The warmth of her body, even through all the layers of clothes, and the melting snow dripping down his chest branded him. The silky strands of her red hair contrasted sharply with the white snow. He nestled himself between her thighs and nearly groaned with a built-up need he’d been keeping in check.

“Orders?” The question came out on a tiny gasp of air. Her gaze traveled over his face and fixated on his mouth. He rocked his hips and her breath got a funny catch to it. Crap, if he didn’t watch it, he’d come right here with snow melting inside his shirt.

“What kind of orders?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“Orders from the top.” His gaze drank in her cherry red lips and he dipped his head to taste. Lightly he passed his own lips across hers, barely touching.

“Torture.” He licked her lips in a silent request for an invitation inside. Tess moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue met his and he swore the snow melted underneath them.

“Please, Alex.”

His breath puffed out, condensed and blew away with the slight breeze. “Please what, Tess?”

She looked at him, her gaze serious, searching his face. “I love you.”

“God, baby, I love you too.”

His erection pushed against his fly, making it damn uncomfortable, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t break contact with her. Othello nudged his cold nose between them and licked Tess’s cheek. She laughed and Alex flopped over onto the wet snow, his arms spread out. He blinked at the bright sun. If he didn’t get some action soon, he was going to die.

Tess rolled to her side and caressed his cheek. “Make love to me, Alex.”

He looked at her, at the love shining in her eyes and the snow covering her hair and shoulders. “Are you sure?” Damn, he hated to ask, because he was so flippin’ close, but he wouldn’t do it if she wasn’t ready.

“Inside,” she said.

With little effort Alex stood and brushed off the snow. He pulled Tess up and brushed the snow off her as well. They ran to the house, laughing, Othello trudging after them.

***

He clenched his hands at his sides and tried to control his erratic breathing. Fuck.

He wanted to race over there and finish what he’d started all those months ago.

Watching them roll around in the snow, doing indecent things in public, just about killed him. He needed to end this soon. It’d been two months since he’d touched her, felt her soft skin, smelled that fruity scent of her hair. Two hellish months of watching her and seeing Juran plastered to her side.

He’d made an error in grabbing her at the apartment. Now Juran knew he was near. His gaze went to the window of their house. They were inside now. Fucking. His heart skipped a beat and his dick stood at the thought. He didn’t want Juran shoving it in her. He wanted to shove it in her and hear her scream.

He swore and ran a shaky hand through his hair. This was all fucked up. It’d started out as a perfect opportunity to get to Juran, exact some revenge for super-prick ruining a very nice thing he had going. Now all he could think about, all he could concentrate on, was super-prick’s wife.

Eliminate Juran. That was his first priority. The little wife would be the spoils of war.

The plan was simple, but right now Juran and Tess were still fucking and he couldn’t stand that thought. He pulled his phone out of his front pants pocket, grimacing when the strain on his zipper rubbed against his hard cock.

He dialed and watched the house.

***

Alex pushed Tess against the wall, pinned her with his hips and kissed her throat while unzipping her jacket. She arched her neck and closed her eyes, her breath ragged gasps. He yanked his coat off, then stripped his shirt. Tess fumbled with her own coat and kicked her boots off at the same time. Her cold hands ran up and down his bare chest. Cold against hot. Very erotic.

He ground his hips into her and she pushed back, wanting more than the feeling of her jeans rubbing against her.

“Ignore it,” Alex said, pulling away, then coming back for another ground-tilting kiss.

“Ignore what?” She grabbed his head between her hands, much like he’d done outside.

“The phone.”

“Oh.” She reached for his fly and unzipped and unbuttoned. Cold hands met tight, hot skin. Alex hissed and dropped his forehead to hers. His hand covered hers as she rubbed him. He looked to be in pain, but she knew ecstasy on her husband’s face when she saw it. His eyes tightly closed, he moaned. Somewhere in the distance the phone stopped ringing.

Alex grabbed her wrist. “Stop. Pl—please.”

Tess smiled, trailing her fingers up his stomach and across his chest. The muscles underneath jumped and flexed.

Heat pooled low in her stomach. Her underwear got wet and her knees shook. He looked delectable, edible with his tousled hair, bare chest and wet jeans just barely hanging on his slim hips.

“How do you want it, Tessie? Against the wall or in bed?”

Her knees nearly buckled at the huskiness in his voice. “I need to feel you on top of me, skin to skin.” She placed an open-mouthed kiss on first one tiny nipple, then the other.

“Then we need to hurry to the bed.”

Hand in hand they walked through the kitchen. The phone began ringing again. Alex picked up the receiver, opened the desk drawer, threw it in and slammed the drawer shut.

She laughed. “What if that was important?”

“Nothing’s as important as this.”

They made it to the bedroom in record time, pulling and pushing their clothes off, ripping when it became too difficult to work the fastenings. Tess lay on her back and Alex covered her from chest to toes, his erection brushing her thigh.

“Tell me again.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “I love you.”

He entered her. “Again.”

She found his hands and entwined their fingers. “I love you.”

He thrust, touching her very soul and then some. “Again.”

“I…love…you.”

Her world spiraled out of control, bright lights flashing behind her eyelids, the room tilting and swaying with each thrust of his hips until there was nothing but intense feeling centered at her very core. Alex groaned as he came.

“I love you, Tessie.”

***

He snapped his phone shut and cursed. Damn, fuck, shit. Super-prick asshole picked up the phone, then threw it. He heard it clatter, then nothing but Tess’s laugh. They mocked him, laughed at him while they fucked each other blind.

***

“What time are you leaving?” Tess put her head on Alex’s shoulder, too worn out to move any other body parts. His arm came up and over and pulled her closer so she could snuggle against him.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I want you to.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“It’s just one beer at a bar with Tony and the guys. I’ll be fine.” She would be fine. She couldn’t allow what happened in Alex’s apartment rule her life forever. He was concerned and she was scared, but at the same time, she knew this was something she had to do.

“I don’t like it,” he said.

“Please, Alex. For me. Let me do this.”

His arm tightened around her shoulder and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “Just until he’s caught, Tess. Then you can be alone all you want. Within reason.”

“He may never be caught.” It was something she’d been thinking about in all the weeks since and something she knew she had to overcome. “I promise I won’t leave the house.” She would bake because baking was the one thing that calmed her, centered her, made her think her life was normal.

“You won’t leave?”

She crossed her heart with her finger. “Nope. And I’ll keep Othello by my side at all times.”

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, fine.”

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I love you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Oh, sure, butter me up.” He leaned down and kissed her nose. “I love you too. I’m sorry I’m so overprotective, I just… I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”

Tess shut the mixer off and reached for a pan. Alex had been gone a half hour and so far nothing bad had happened. With each tick of the clock, her confidence grew and her sense of independence doubled, even if she jumped at every noise and looked over her shoulder at every creak and groan of the house. Even if she wouldn’t allow Othello to so much as wander into the other room.

Othello watched her from his post in the corner with a resigned expression and the radio played softly in the background. Alex had checked all the locks on the doors and windows before leaving. He’d put the phone back on the hook and given her a twenty-minute lecture. She withstood it because she understood his fear and when he’d left, she’d double-checked the doors and windows herself.

She searched the cabinets for her restaurant-sized tub of chocolate chips only to find the container empty.

“Damn it, Alex.” She needed to make three chocolate-chip cheesecakes for tomorrow, and Alex had eaten all of her chips. She eyed the phone. Debated calling Alex. He could probably stop on the way home, but that would mean she’d be up late making cheesecake and she had other plans for later tonight that involved her husband and a certain wall they hadn’t gotten to earlier.

The store was just a few blocks away. All she needed were a few bags of chips. Plus, didn’t she need to do this? Hadn’t she been telling herself she needed to push past this fear? To get over her attack?

She grabbed her purse and caught Othello’s accusing glare from the corner of the room. “I know, I know. I promised. But I need chocolate chips.”

Othello licked his lips and settled back down, obviously not believing a word she said.

Tess grabbed her keys and headed out the front door. The cold air hit her hard and she smiled at the memory of Alex’s shocked expression when she’d nailed him with the snowball. She’d never had such good aim before and probably never would again.

She closed the front door firmly, turned to lock it and heard the crunch of snow and ice behind her. Heart beating loudly, she turned around and smacked into a hard chest.

Chapter Sixteen

Roger’s gaze flickered over Tess, then to the front door, where Othello stood on the other side barking.

“What’re you doing here, Rog?” Her heart struggled to return to normal as she tried to stuff the panic back inside her.

“Just checking on you.”

Checking? Since when did Roger start caring about them? With shaking legs she stepped around him and headed toward the van, her curiosity taking a backseat to her need to get to the store and back before Alex discovered her AWOL. “Checking on us, huh? Well, all’s well here.”

Roger shoved his hands in his pants pockets as he walked beside her. “Where’s Alex?”

“Out with the guys.” She unlocked the driver’s side door. In the dim light of the lamppost, Roger looked pale, his skin drawn tight over high cheekbones. Several days’ worth of stubble covered his chin and cheeks, and his usually impeccable blond hair was mussed and greasy. When Shannon had married him, Roger had been an extremely good-looking man, but over the years his attractiveness had faded.

He jingled the change in his pocket and shifted. Ignoring the inner voice screaming at her to get to the store, she touched the sleeve of his dark coat.

“Everything okay, Roger?”

***

“Hey Juran, you’ll get a kick out of this.”

Alex sipped his beer, his gaze traveling over the guys grouped in a tight circle. Someone brushed past him and jostled his elbow. Loud laughter and voices joined U2 singing “Bloody Sunday”. Tess had been right. He’d needed to get out, to reconnect with these men.

A well-stacked blonde walked past in a form-fitting tank top and hip-hugger pants. A few of the guys whistled their appreciation. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and sent them a come-hither look. The unmarried, unattached males—and some of the married ones as well—ribbed each other and laughed. Alex rolled his eyes and sipped his beer. Idiots.

The blonde sauntered away and everyone’s attention drifted back to the conversation.

Alex pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and checked the display. No missed calls. He placed it on the bar next to his beer.

“Anyway,” Harrison said, tearing his eyes away from the blonde. “Got this call today. You’ll never believe this. This’ll make you think twice about returning to patrol. A woman called 911 saying there’s a man—” he took a swig of beer and held his hand out in a wait-a-minute motion, “—a man walking down the street, not wearing—get this—” He paused for effect. Someone snickered, everyone waited. “Not wearing gloves and a hat.”

Stunned silence followed, quickly replaced with loud laughter.

“What’d you do?” someone asked.

Harrison chuckled and wiped his eyes. “Hell, I had to check it out. Last time I ignored a stupid call like that, the idiot was an escaped mental patient taking a Sunday stroll down the damn street.”

Tony pushed his way between Alex and Upton, turning his back on the others. “How’s Tess?”

“Better.”

“She’s a fighter. She’ll survive.”

“Yeah.” Though there had been times when Alex had wondered. Maybe Tess was right. They couldn’t let one man run their lives. Besides, it’d been weeks since the attack and they’d heard nothing from this guy. Maybe it had been random, a case of Tess being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So how’d he know her name? How’d he know about the “present” left on the doorstep?

***

Roger ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Fine. Everything’s fine.” He laughed, the sound hollow, causing his breath to billow into a small cloud, then disappear into the cold night. “Alex doing okay?”

“Getting better.” And soon he’ll be back to work. “How’s Shannon?”

He studied the lettering on the van advertising Tess’s Temptations. “Okay, I guess. You know how she gets right before she has a baby.” His gaze flickered to her, then darted away.

She hated looks like that. Pity looks from people who didn’t know what to say to her.

“Alex remember anything else?” he asked.

Tess refrained from looking at her watch. She really needed to get to the store and she couldn’t figure out why Roger was here. “It’s coming back to him slowly.”

Even in the dark, she felt the penetrating intensity of his gaze. What had Shannon said that night she took her to the doctor? Something about Roger acting funny. Tess could see why her sister was concerned. Tension surrounded Roger and once again Tess wondered if he was cheating on Shannon.

Then again, she wasn’t the only one affected by Alex’s shooting. His fellow officers had to deal with it in their own way, Roger included. Even though they weren’t close, they were family, and Roger was probably having a hard time handling it.

“He’s remembering more?” Roger asked. “What do the doctors say about that?”

Tess looked at her watch again. If she didn’t get out of here, she’d have much bigger problems. She opened the van door and put her foot on the running board. “They didn’t say much. Just to give it time, that full memory should return soon. I really have to go, Roger. I need to stop at the store and get back to my cheesecakes.”

Roger grabbed her wrist in a bruising hold. “Wait.”

***

“Damn, Juran, just call her already. You’ve been looking at the phone like an alcoholic looks at a bottle of scotch.” Tony shook his head. “Man, you got it bad.”

Alex reached for his beer instead of the phone. He’d tried to concentrate on the ebb and flow of the conversation, but his mind kept wandering to Tess. What was she doing? Was she scared, being alone for the first time since the attack? He should have insisted on staying home, but her determination to return to some semblance of normal life had gotten to him and on one level he agreed with her. It was the other level that was giving him problems. The one that wanted to lock her away. Lock her away how? To keep her safe, or to keep her from walking away from you again?

“I promised I’d let her be,” he said to Tony, banishing the inner voice that lately wouldn’t leave him alone.

Tony edged in a little closer and lowered his voice. “Look, AJ, I know you never wanted to talk about it before and as your partner and friend, I respected that. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I’m damn glad you’re back together.” He looked away, clearly embarrassed, and grabbed his beer.

“Thanks, Blankenship. And thanks, too, for putting up with all my shit during those months.” It couldn’t have been easy for Tony to ride alongside him eight hours a day while he bitched and complained about everything but what bothered him.

“Hey, Juran, how’s the knee?”

“Strong enough to kick your ass, Harrison.” A few chuckled and some scowled. The older guys seemed to accept his presence, while the younger ones watched him warily. A month ago—hell, a week ago—that would have bothered him. Now he accepted it. He was a cop down to the marrow of his bones. He’d proven himself to most of these men, his superiors and more importantly, to himself. He didn’t need the younger men’s approval.

Someone’s cell phone rang and Alex’s gaze jumped to his silent phone.

Tony nudged his shoulder. “If you don’t call her, I will.”

Alex grabbed the phone and dialed the familiar numbers. He just needed to hear her voice, needed to know she was okay. That was all.

He put the phone to his ear, his hand over his other ear. After the fifth ring the answering machine kicked on and a sick feeling began to churn in his belly.

“Thank you for calling Tess’s Temptations. We’re not able to take your call right now. Please leave a detailed message and we will get back to you.” Beeeep.

“Tess, honey, it’s me. Pick up.” He pulled his hand from his ear and drummed his fingers on the sticky bar. “Tess?” Someone fighting for bar space bumped his elbow. A loud burst of laughter drowned out Nickelback. She’s probably up to her elbows in cheesecake batter. She’ll call back when she’s free.

“Sweetheart, call me back. Love ya.” He flipped the phone closed and set it on the bar, noting the time on the neon clock above the Budweiser sign. He’d give her fifteen minutes, then call back.

After ten minutes he couldn’t stand it any longer. This time the phone rang twice, indicating she hadn’t picked up the first message.

“Tess? Where the hell are you?” He tried her cell phone but the call went straight to voicemail. He jumped off the barstool and pulled out his wallet.

Tony appeared next to him. “What’s up?”

“Tess isn’t answering.” He threw a few dollar bills next to his beer and grabbed his coat.

“Shit, AJ, that doesn’t mean nothin’. She probably went out. Or maybe she’s in the can. She could’ve fallen asleep.”

“She promised she wouldn’t leave.” Cool it, Juran. Tony’s right, she could’ve just fallen asleep. But something told him she hadn’t.

“You’re overreacting, partner.”

Alex glared at Tony. “She was attacked in my apartment by a man who knew things he shouldn’t have. How would you react, Blankenship?”

Tony grabbed his arm at the same time he poked Upton on the shoulder. “Pay my tab.”

“You don’t have to go with me,” Alex said, pulling on his coat.

“Hell, yes, I do. We’re partners. If there’s trouble, we back each other up.”

Alex debated calling the cops, then figured he and Tony were as good as they could get. His house was only about five minutes from the bar. He made it home in three, Tony sticking to his tail the entire time.

When he turned down the street, the first thing he noticed was the empty space where Tess’s van was usually parked. The second thing he noticed was that the street light in front of their house had burnt out. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He cut the engine and reached under his seat to pull out his Glock. Both he and Tony got out at the same time, Tony with his own weapon held tightly to his thigh. They met at the bottom of the driveway.

“Her van’s gone.”

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” Tony muttered, his gaze raking the area.

Alex started toward the house. When he reached the porch steps, Othello started barking. He inserted his key and turned the lock, then froze, his gaze swinging to Tony who watched his back.

“The door’s unlocked,” he whispered, slowly sliding his key out.

Tony pulled him to the side of the door. “I’ll go in first. You take my back.”

Alex shook his head. “No one’s in there. O wouldn’t be at the front door if someone was in there.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. That dog loves Tess. He’d either rip the guy’s throat out or die trying.”

Alex swung the door open and stepped in. Othello rushed him, his tongue hanging out, his tail wagging.

“Tess?” Alex strode through the living room and into the kitchen. A cake was cooling on the counter. A measuring cup tilted on its side sat next to the flour container and a mixing bowl filled with some sort of batter. The small light above the desk was the only light left on.

***

He could take her in the parking lot. By the time Juran figured out his precious wife was missing, it’d be too late.

Ah, the satisfaction of seeing Juran’s face when he realized his Tess had been taken right out from under him. He chuckled. That man needed to be taught a lesson. He needed to learn that he couldn’t go around ruining people’s lives.

He looked around the nearly empty grocery store. Excitement raced through him at the thought that he could have her tonight. No more waiting. No more dreaming of her.

But he hadn’t ruined Juran yet. He hadn’t exacted his revenge for Juran trashing his career and stepping in where he had no business being.

No, better to wait. Better to plan. Better to watch her for a little while longer.

She picked up three bags of chocolate chips, strolled through the frozen food and hesitated at the ice cream. His hands clenched at his sides and he had to control the urge to grab her now.

Not yet. Too soon. The anticipation about killed him, but if he waited, the pleasure would be all the more excruciatingly sweet.

Tess’s Temptations. She sure as hell knew what she was doing when she named her business. Tess’s Sweet Temptations. His temptation.

She paid for her chocolate chips and left the store, glancing nervously around as she hurried to her car. He hugged the shadows, pulling his dark hood over his head and followed.

He was taking a risk, getting too close, but he couldn’t resist. He had to get closer. Just a little. Not much. Definitely not enough to draw attention.

She stopped suddenly and looked in his direction. He slipped farther into the shadows. His hands, itching to grab her, clenched inside his jacket pocket. Not yet. She turned and unlocked her car door. He sprinted in the opposite direction, trying to outrace his urges. Not yet…not yet…not yetnotyetnotyet.

Chapter Seventeen

Tess rested her forehead on the steering wheel and took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She raised her head and searched her rearview mirror for the man in the hoodie.

Nothing. No one except her and the buzzing parking lot lights. Just like that her fear turned to anger. Damn it, she would not live her life in fear. She would not look over her shoulder every time she stepped out of the house and she would not view every man in a hooded sweatshirt as a potential attacker.

She’d faced the evil that day in Alex’s apartment. She’d fought back and she’d won. If she had to, she’d do it again.

Starting the engine, she looked around, half tempted to find the poor man who’d walked through the parking lot, ashamed she’d thought the worst of him.

Five minutes later, she turned onto her street. Alex’s pickup sat at an angle to the curb, his front tires on the snowy grass, Tony’s SUV parked behind it.

“Great.” Before she had time to take the keys out of the ignition, the driver’s side door of the van was yanked open.

“Where in the hell have you been?”

Grabbing her grocery sack, she slid out of the car. “Replacing the chocolate chips you ate.” She rounded the hood of the van and slapped the bag against his chest, forcing him back a step. He reached up and held it there. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“You went to the store for chocolate chips? After promising to stay inside?”

Tess put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I wouldn’t have had to break my promise if you hadn’t eaten all of my chips.”

He dropped his hand from his chest and the chips fell to the ground. “This is my fault?”

Her anger erupted, hot and heavy, drowning out the voice of reason. She knew it was the adrenaline still pumping through her system but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “You bet this is your fault. You could have told me you ate all the chips.” Suddenly the whole conversation and her anger went beyond baking ingredients. “My life was going great. I finally got this business off the ground. I was proud of the things I accomplished. Then you showed up—” she poked her finger into his chest, “—and everything went to hell. I’ve got people running through my backyard and spray painting my door and a man attacking me in your apartment…” She clamped her mouth shut, but it was too late. The hurtful, hateful words had already been spoken and there was no taking them back. A mask descended over his features until no emotion remained. “Alex—” She reached for him, but he took a step back,

“I think you made yourself perfectly clear,” he said. “No need to say more.”

Her hand dropped, along with her heart. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s been my experience that people usually tell the truth in times of anger.”

“Not in this case.”

Anguish flickered, then died in his gaze. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Tess stared down at the ground. A bag of chips had broken open, the pieces scattered at her feet. She pushed one of the little brown dots with the toe of her boot until it blurred and she could no longer see through her tears.

The crunch of ice behind her had her pulling her hands up into her sleeves and sniffing the tears away.

“Now that I know you’re okay, I’m outta here,” Tony said.

She nodded and wiped her cold tears with the sleeve of her coat.

“I know this hasn’t been easy on you, Tess, but don’t forget, he did get shot and no matter how much he denies it, he’s afraid he may not be able to return to work.”

Tears of shame dripped down her cheeks as Tony drove away. Yes, her life had been different after Alex had moved out. Her business had flourished and she’d made a name for herself, but it’d been a hollow achievement. Her real happiness didn’t lie in cheesecakes or Boston cream pie, but with Alex.

She looked up at the sky. Her tears made the stars glow brighter, giving them a hazy, surreal look. Ah, Tess. You’re such an idiot.

She gathered up her chocolate chips, leaving the broken ones behind. When she entered the house, Alex was going from room to room, checking the locks on the windows and doors, just like he’d done every night for the past several weeks.

Not knowing what to say or how to mend the breach she’d so carelessly created, she finished mixing her batch of cheesecake.

***

Tess stood at the window, watching Othello run in circles in the backyard, barking at a squirrel. When she and Alex had taken the Christmas tree down and stored the ornaments away, she hadn’t been able to pack Maggie’s. She held it in her hand, turning it around and around.

“What are you doing?”

She almost dropped the pink ball in her surprise. “Alex. You startled me.”

He glanced at the ornament. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking.” She looked down at her hands.

“About what?”

“About what I said last night.”

His expression was forbidding. He wasn’t allowing her to get close and it hurt that he was closing her out, but she didn’t blame him. She’d said some nasty, unkind things. Things she didn’t mean.

“Are you really sorry I’m back, Tess?”

“Oh, Alex.” Her heart ached for him. For them. For how she was always screwing it up and how they could never seem to move on. “Of course not. Maybe I am for the way you re-entered my life, but then I wonder, if you hadn’t been shot would we have patched things up?” She ran a hand through her hair. “I feel guilty for even thinking that. Of course I don’t want you hurt, but what would have happened if you hadn’t been hurt?”

“I like to think we would have found each other again.”

She would too, but the sad thing was they’d been so angry at each other that they probably would have lived the rest of their lives alone and mad.

“So you’re not angry I’m back? You don’t want me to leave?” For a moment, he looked more like a lost little boy than a hardened cop and Tess wanted to cry for the pain she’d caused.

“I want you to stay. I want us together again.”

His shoulders seemed to slump. “God, Tessie, so do I.”

She put the ornament on the table and walked into his waiting arms. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head. “So am I, but we’ll work it all out. Just have faith.”

The phone rang and Tess pulled away, reaching for the cordless lying next to the ornament. “Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful, how’s my girl?”

She smiled at Upton’s flirtatious tone. “Fine, Matthew. And you?”

“I’d be better if you dropped that husband of yours and married me instead.”

She looked at Alex’s dark brown eyes. “Never.”

Upton sighed dramatically. “Then let me talk to the man. You know, one of these days you’re gonna accept my offer.”

“I think your wife would have something to say about that.”

He chuckled and she held the phone out to Alex.

She picked up the ornament. She’d put it away until next year, when it would grace their tree again, reminding them of both happy and sad times. Reminding them that no matter how bad it got, they would survive.

“When?”

Alex’s hard tone had her looking at him. He stared out the window, one hand scooping his hair back. “Okay, I’ll be there.” He disconnected and threw the phone down.

“What was that all about?”

“The lieutenant wants to meet with me.”

***

Lieutenant Watson pushed his chair away from his desk and stood, extending his hand to Alex. Alex shook it, nodded to Upton, who had risen from his own chair across from the desk, and sat.

Watson shuffled some papers around. “How’s the knee?” he asked without looking up.

“Fine, sir.” Alex resisted the urge to massage it.

“I see you’re not using the cane anymore. That bodes well.”

“Yes, sir.” A tall, thin man with a head full of gray hair, Watson was admired and respected by the patrolmen. Personally or professionally, Alex didn’t have a complaint with the guy.

“I called you here for two reasons.” Folding his hands on top of the desk, he stared at Alex. “I wanted you to hear from me that I’m pulling the detectives from your case.”

Alex stilled and for several heartbeats the room remained silent. “Excuse me, sir? Can I ask why?”

“The drug ring folded up and moved on. We can’t get anyone to talk. We’ve hit a dead end.”

“And you know this for a fact?” He was completely out of line for asking, but couldn’t stop himself.

Watson shook his head and didn’t seem to mind that Alex was questioning his decision. “There hasn’t been any significant drug activity since your shooting. Everything indicates that we accomplished what we set out to accomplish.”

They’d set out to stop a drug ring and to Alex that meant arresting the leader. So, no, he didn’t think they’d accomplished anything except move the drugs to another city, for another department to deal with, and possibly more killings. But this time he kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself, knowing it was useless.

“It’s not a complete loss,” Watson was saying. “The drug ring is gone. You did a superb job in your undercover assignment and a commendation will be placed in your file.”

Is that supposed to make Jason’s parents feel better? Alex forced his jaw to unclench. Just like that, case closed, unsolved. Jason’s parents would never learn who killed their son and, unless his memory returned, Alex would never discover who shot him.

“And if my memory returns?”

“Then, of course, we’ll make every effort to locate the man who shot you. Now,” Watson said, pushing more papers around. “As for that knee. At the end of the month Harrison’s going on vacation and Jackson’s wife’s baby is due, so he’ll be taking some time off as well. What are your chances of returning by then?”

Alex blinked, still thinking of the closed case and his firm belief that the killer had not simply closed up shop but was still out there. He cleared his throat. “Well, sir, I’d have to talk the doctor into signing the medical release.” That could prove difficult, considering Dr. Ford had fought signing the form at his last visit, insisting he needed more time.

Watson stood and Alex took the cue to stand too. “Work on that, Juran. We need you back on the force. You’re one of the best damn cops around.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” For nothing.

Once out of the office and down the hall, he swung around and glared at Upton, who had followed him out. “What the hell just happened in there?”

“LT wants you back. What’s so bad about that?”

Alex balled his hands into fists. “Damn it, Upton, they’re closing the case!”

“Not officially. They’re pulling the detectives off it.”

“Come on, you know as well as I do when they pull the detectives, it’s as good as closed. I can’t fucking believe this. A kid was killed and the man responsible is out there.” He pointed to a window.

A uniformed officer walked past. Upton watched him until he turned the corner, then he stepped closer to Alex. “A punk-ass, small-time drug dealer was killed, Juran.”

The memory of Jason’s dead eyes snapped into his mind. “So you’re saying because he dealt drugs he’s less than everybody else? Are you saying he got what he deserved?”

“You’ve been out there long enough, AJ. You know the drill. Kids like Jason don’t suddenly stop selling. They go deeper and deeper until we’re hunting them because they’ve got a racket going at the local high school and some promising senior died of some damn overdose.” Upton stepped closer, going nose-to-nose, toe-to-toe with him. “I’m saying better him than you. I’d rather scrape his sorry ass off the ground than the best damn cop in the department. Don’t go getting teary-eyed on me, Officer Juran. That kid made a lot of bad choices long before he ended up a chalk outline, and not one of them had to do with you.”

Alex ground his teeth. “What if I had been the chalk outline? Would the case be closed then?”

Upton stepped back. “You weren’t and you should be damn happy about it.”

Alex ran a hand through his hair. “So that’s it. Case closed. No more bad guy.”

“What should we do, Juran? We’ve followed every lead. Until your memory returns—if your memory returns—our hands are tied.”

“And what about the intruder? The guy who attacked Tess? The hamsters on the doorstep?”

“What about them?”

“LT never mentioned them.”

“And why would he? They’re nothing but harmless pranks.”

“So you’re telling me Tess’s attack was a harmless prank?” He took a step closer to Upton and stopped, afraid of what he’d do if he got too close. Upton glanced at his clenched hands and raised his brows, the warning clear in the depths of his eyes. Alex relaxed his fingers, but the anger was still seething inside him. “You were there that day, Matthew. You saw her. You saw what that bastard did to her.”

“I didn’t mean her attack wasn’t serious. It was and I’m sorry it happened, but it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Jesus, he knew her name.”

“She drives a van with her name plastered all over it!” Upton took a step back and lowered his voice. “You need to stop this. The shooting and those other incidents are unrelated.”

Marshalling every ounce of self-control, Alex took a deep breath and tried to relax his tense muscles. “You just said I was the best cop in the department. That instinct that’s kept me in one piece for the past ten years tells me this is all related.”

“You’re too close to this case to trust those instincts, Juran.”

“All the more reason to trust them. There’s a connection here.”

The hot fire of anger burned in Upton’s eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? The guys are talking. They’re saying you’re not fit for duty. Right now it’s just gossip and Blankenship and I have it under control. You keep spouting this shit and the LT will have the department psychologist back on your ass so fast your head will spin. Keep your mouth shut and come back to work.”

Their gazes locked and held, a battle of wills to see who would look away first. The threat of Alex losing his job, his career and his hard-won reputation hung between them.

Upton was the first to break eye contact. “You’ve made a lot of enemies in your career, Juran. Just as a Field Training Officer alone. How many men did you wash out of the program? It’s no secret that you got the bad seeds because you were willing to ride them until they either quit or shaped up. How many criminals have you arrested? How many tickets have you written, domestic dispute calls have you answered? Ten years is a long time to make enemies. You’re a good cop. Don’t ruin it for yourself.”

Alex walked until his knee burned and still he pushed himself, testing the limits of his endurance, hoping the cold air and exercise would blow the anger away.

Looking at the problem from a cop’s perspective, he understood Upton’s point. The incidents all indicated someone other than the missing drug dealer. And everything else pointed to the dealer closing up shop and bugging out, presumably to open up somewhere else. Another murder unsolved, another murderer walking the streets. Just another busy day for law enforcement.

Except Alex couldn’t look at it from a cop’s perspective, not when his wife had been attacked and his house vandalized. Trying to force the memories that remained locked behind invisible doors didn’t help.

He looked up and discovered he’d walked all the way to the warehouse district. His feet guided him to the spot where he’d been shot. Forklifts zoomed past, their constant beeping drowning out the memory of gunshots echoing off the metal walls.

Alex bent and touched the cold ground, but nothing came to him. No sudden return of memory, not even a scrap he could grab on to.

The doctors warned that he might never regain all of that night. Was this how he’d live the rest of his life? Never knowing? Always looking over his shoulder? And what of Tess? Would he worry every time she walked out of the house? He’d learned last night not to push too hard, not to hold on too tight. He should have known she would eventually rebel. Hell, he couldn’t even be mad at her for the things she’d said because they were all true. She would have been safe if he hadn’t moved back in with her.

Chapter Eighteen

The front door lock clicked. Her heart leaping into her throat, Tess looked up from her book. Someday she wouldn’t jump at every creak and groan of the house. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

Alex stepped through looking very GQ in his charcoal suit and silver tie.

“Hey, you.” She put her book down and sat up.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?” He yanked on the knot of his tie.

“Lonely. How was yours? How’d the meeting with LT go? Did they catch the guy?”

He smiled, but his eyes held a dull pain that told her his knee was bothering him.

“The meeting went well.” He limped down the hall to the bedroom, pulling his still-knotted tie over his head.

Tess followed and Othello trailed her. “Yeah? So what’d he say?”

Alex threw the tie on the bed, shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it on top of the tie. “I’ll tell you over dinner. How ’bout we go on that date we keep talking about, but never make it to?”

Her curiosity kicked up a notch. He was holding something back, she saw it in the veiled shadow of his eyes, but she wouldn’t push, not when he was this tired.

“Okay, sure. Where do you want to go?”

The phone rang. Alex picked it up and answered it with a gruff hello, unbuttoning his shirt one-handed. He held the receiver out to her. “It’s Shannon.”

Tess rolled her eyes and took the receiver. “Hey, Shannon, what’s up?”

Alex shrugged out of his shirt and let it drop to the floor. His belt buckle clinked, pants unzipped and fell to the floor, too.

No matter how long they’d been together, or how recently they’d made love, she always had this visceral reaction to his tight buns and muscular thighs. Everything inside her tightened into a ball of want.

“…red hair, like yours…”

Alex turned and saw the look on her face and his eyes darkened with desire.

“…visit…”

He’d been doing more than the physical therapy exercises. The muscles in his legs bunched and stretched with his sure steps. Except for today, he hardly limped anymore and nothing but two pink scars, about six inches long and running down each side of his knee, indicated he’d been injured.

“…right?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her so that her back rested against his chest. His hands slid inside her shirt and brushed already taut nipples. He bent his head and nibbled on the curve where her shoulder met her neck, sending electric charges down her spine and making her shiver.

“Tess? Are you listening to me?” Shannon’s voice drifted through the sensual fog of Tess’s brain.

“Mmmmhmmm.”

“No, you’re not. I can tell when you’re not listening.” A newborn’s angry wail floated through the phone line, bringing Tess back to the conversation. She stepped away from Alex. His hands dropped from her waist and he groaned, falling backward on the bed and pillowing his arms under his head.

“You had the baby?”

His gaze stopped its lazy exploration of her body and snapped to hers.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that,” Shannon said over the baby’s cries. “It’s a girl, Tess. She has red hair just like you and we named her Theresa, after you. Theresa Margaret.”

Tess’s knees gave out and she sank to the bed. Margaret? That was her baby’s name. Shannon wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t open up barely healed wounds. She ran a shaking hand through her hair and took a deep breath. “Th-that’s wonderful, Shannon.”

The baby stopped crying and Tess pictured the tiny red head nestled against Shannon’s breast, suckling greedily. She closed her eyes and fought the unbearable pain of loss and the aching in her own breasts.

Alex sat up and pulled her to him so she nestled between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his chin on her shoulder to listen in.

“So, you’ll come tonight.” It wasn’t a question, nor a request, but a statement of fact. “Oh, Tess, she’s just beautiful. You’ve got to come see your namesake.”

Alex tilted his head and mouthed, “No.”

She should tell Shannon no, but her mouth wouldn’t form the word. She had a sudden need to hold the tiny infant close to her.

“Sure, Shannon, we’ll be by in about an hour.”

Alex jerked away and scooted off the bed. Angry strides took him to the closet where he pulled out a pair of jeans.

Tess replaced the receiver. “We’ll only stay a few minutes, then we’ll go to dinner.”

He pulled the pants on with jerky motions, then yanked a crewneck sweater over his head.

“I have to go, Alex. She named the baby after me.” And our daughter, but she couldn’t tell him that yet.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“She’s the only family I have.” She hated pleading with him, hated the zing of anticipation she got from the thought of holding baby Theresa.

“And she treats you like shit.”

“So I should treat her the same?”

He grabbed his shoes and turned to pierce her with a haunted look. “Don’t do this, Tess.”

She glanced down at her hands clenched in her lap. “She has red hair.”

Alex cursed. “You’re torturing yourself,” he said, his voice strained.

What could she say? Deny the truth? Deny that holding little Theresa would break her heart all over again, make her ache for the baby she’d lost?

He let out a deep breath. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know. But I have to go. I have to…see.” And hold and snuggle and pretend just for a moment.

“She’s not ours, Tess.”

“I know.” She swallowed and tilted her head back, willing the tears away and pushing the emptiness back into the hole from where it came.

Alex dropped to his knees between her legs and ran his hand up the outside of her thighs. “I don’t know what to say, what to do to take this grief away from you. Help me help you.”

She shook her head and more tears fell. “There will always be a part of my heart that mourns our daughter.”

“We can have others.”

Her chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. “We tried.”

“We haven’t been using protection.”

“We didn’t use protection for most of our marriage.” She touched his cheek. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a baby.”

His hands tightened on her thighs and his eyes grew even darker. “The doctors said there’s no medical reason we can’t conceive.”

“Doctors are often wrong.”

He reached for her, but she scrambled off the bed. “I need to get ready. Where are you taking me for dinner?”

“Tess, please—”

She looked back at him still kneeling by the bed. “I can’t, Alex. I can’t talk about this anymore. It hurts too much.”

He got to his feet and came toward her. She wanted to turn away because she didn’t want his pity, his regret, or his sorrow. But she needed his touch too much. He pulled her to him and she buried her face in the rough knit of his sweater, holding back the sobs and the tears, not wanting to cry anymore over the impossible.

Tess and Alex stepped into the hospital lobby. The smell of disinfectant and antiseptic reminded her too much of rushing in here with Tony. In her mind she heard the beeping, hissing and shushing of the monitors keeping Alex alive. The squeak of the nurses’ rubber-soled shoes had brought her out of many a light sleep while she sat at his side, holding his hand, willing him to live.

“You okay?”

“Fine. It’s just hard.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“No. It’s not the baby. Well, some of it’s the baby. Walking in here reminded me of the night you got shot.” She shivered and rubbed her arms, looking around at the families sitting on the couches waiting for word of their loved ones. “I thought you’d died.”

Alex touched her cheek, bringing her back to the present, reminding her that he stood before her, whole, alive, warm and vibrant. She leaned into his caress.

“That night’s pretty much a blank to me,” he said. “I don’t remember riding to the hospital. I do remember the pain. And I remember wanting to stay awake, needing to tell you I love you one more time.” He blinked and shook his head. “There’s more. I just wish I could remember.”

“It’ll come to you.”

“I wonder sometimes. It’s so damn frustrating having the answer yet not having it, and knowing others need me to remember. What if he kills again before I remember? What if he comes back and hurts you? What if I know him?”

She touched his arm. “You’re doing all you can. No one can ask more of you.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“It has to be for now.”

“I’m glad I have you to help me.”

She smiled. “Not half as glad as I am to have you around, eating my chocolate chips.”

One corner of his mouth turned up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What if I hadn’t recovered? What if I couldn’t walk anymore?”

“Then we would have dealt with it together.”

Tess grabbed Alex’s hand before they pushed open the door to Shannon’s room. Alex squeezed, giving her the courage to enter.

Ever the queen, Shannon sat in a halo of light that illuminated nothing but her and a tiny bundle nestled in her arms. Three tiny figures launched themselves at him and Tess. Six-year-old Caitlyn and four-year-old Elizabeth headed straight for Tess. Sarah, the baby at two, wrapped her chubby arms around his knees and he lifted her up.

“How’s my princess?”

She laughed, her big blue eyes dancing. Out of all the girls, Sarah looked the most like Shannon. She was also, secretly, his favorite, probably because he was her favorite. She pointed a tiny finger at her mother and new sister.

“Tressa,” she said, with a solemn tone in her toddler voice.

“I see that. A new sister, huh?”

Tess leaned over the bed, blocking his view of the baby. Sarah wriggled in his arms and he let her down.

Caitlyn, Elizabeth and Sarah crowded around Tess and the baby. Alex’s gut twisted at the look of yearning on his wife’s face. She brushed at a stray tear and cuddled the newborn closer to her breast, huddling over her, as if she was afraid someone would take the baby from her.

He hoped Roger realized how lucky he was to have four gorgeous, healthy, happy children.

Alex tuned out Shannon’s detailed recitation of the labor and delivery and made his way to the back of the room. He wanted to give Tess more babies, to fill her empty arms and the vacant place Maggie had left in her heart. He wanted to see Tess cuddle and look with wonder at their child’s tiny fingernails. Six months ago it had been the last thing he wanted, but that had more to do with their shaky marriage than the actual thought of having kids. Now that they were working through their problems, things were different.

They’d been through the tests, countless hours of sitting in doctor’s offices, enduring their poking and prodding, waiting for results only to discover nothing wrong with either of them. Then they’d found out Tess was pregnant with Maggie and for five brief months life had been perfect. Or so he had thought. Now he wondered if Tess’s loneliness and discontent with his work schedule was beginning even back then. Before Maggie’s death.

Movement to his left had him turning in that direction just as Roger stepped out of the shadows. Alex experienced a déjà vu stronger than any before. A shadow emerging from the deeper shadows. A hand knocking his hat off. Gunshots. The pounding of retreating feet.

Roger laid a hand on his shoulder and Alex pulled his thoughts back to the present. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.” Roger’s concerned gaze looked him over. His own face was drawn and pale. No doubt Roger had been up all night while Shannon gave birth. “Knee bothering you?” he asked.

Alex shrugged his hand away. “The knee’s fine.”

Roger backed into the shadows and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Heard you’ve been asked to come back.”

Alex shot a look at Tess but she was too busy studying the baby and talking to her nieces to have heard. He had planned to tell her over dinner tonight, but now he considered putting it off. She was dealing with enough crap with the baby. Chicken. You’re afraid of her reaction.

“So, you coming back?” Roger looked at his wife and four kids without expression. Shouldn’t he be over there with his new daughter? Then again, for Roger this was a bi-annual occurrence. Still, fourth or tenth, Alex would have been right beside Tess.

“If I can get Dr. Ford to sign the medical release.”

“Alex, come here and meet Theresa Margaret,” Shannon called.

He stilled. “You named her Margaret?” he said to Roger. What the hell? Surely even Shannon couldn’t be that dimwitted to name her daughter after Tess’s dead daughter, could she?

Roger looked away. “Shannon’s idea. She said you wouldn’t mind.”

Of course she did. Sometimes Shannon still managed to surprise him.

Stiffly, forcing his legs to move, he walked over to the chair and looked down at the sleeping newborn in Tess’s lap. Theresa’s top lip hung over her bottom. One hand curled around her ear. Bright red tufts of hair stuck straight up from her scalp.

The red hair reminded him of Maggie. By the time he’d made it to the hospital she’d already been taken to the morgue, but he’d been able to see her. She’d been so damn tiny—a lot tinier than this baby. He hadn’t been able to hold her, not because they wouldn’t let him, but because he just couldn’t. He’d felt too guilty, had been too angry at himself and so damn scared that it could have been Tess lying there. And relieved that it wasn’t. He’d never admitted that to anyone, especially not Tess. The overwhelming, knee-weakening relief of learning that Tess was okay. The prayer of thanks he’d sent up to God that He’d spared his wife and taken the baby instead.

Tess looked up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him not to say anything. So she’d known the baby’s name and hadn’t told him. For some reason he felt a sense of betrayal.

“Would you like to hold her?” she asked, even though her body language screamed she didn’t want to give the baby up.

Watching Tess hold the baby made him hurt. He wished he could give her the baby she so desperately wanted. He stepped back, shook his head. If she’d lived, Maggie would have been sixteen months. He thought about that a lot. Every month he wondered what she would look like, what milestones she would have achieved. With that red hair she probably would have been a replica of Tess. But he often wondered what qualities he would have been passed on to her.

“It’s time to go if you want to eat,” he said.

Tess nodded and held the baby tighter. Startled at the sudden movement, Theresa threw her hands out and scrunched up her tiny face. Tess soothed her by uttering words Alex couldn’t hear.

Heart heavy, he walked to the door and waited for Tess to relinquish the baby to her mother. She took her time smoothing the blanket and running a finger down the baby’s red cheek, a wistful smile on her face.

Chapter Nineteen

Alex reached across the table and pulled Tess’s arms from around her waist. “Stop it.”

She blinked and focused on him. “Stop what?”

“Stop going to that place you go to when you think about Maggie. Stop shutting me out of your thoughts.”

Was that what she’d been doing? Shutting him out? She had been thinking of Maggie, but she didn’t think she’d been shutting him out.

His gaze met hers. “Whenever you get like this it’s almost impossible to reach you.”

She opened her mouth to deny his accusations, then closed it, remembering the days and weeks after Maggie’s death, the incredible grief and all-consuming pain. She’d retreated to a place deep inside, a place where the outside world wouldn’t tread on her feelings. After a while it had become harder and harder to pull herself from that private place.

Holding her niece had been more difficult than she had expected. It reminded her of holding Maggie’s still body and staring at her chest, willing her to breathe, to wake up. To live.

Yet holding Theresa had also helped her let go of her grief, to realize that there would always be a place in her heart for Maggie, but there was also a place for another baby, and that baby didn’t necessarily have to be her biological child.

Adoption. It had been a word people had mentioned to her before but one she had brushed off for different reasons. Now, she thought about it and realized that a part of her was excited and scared at the same time.

“What do you think about maybe adopting a baby?” she asked, staring hard at Alex to catch his reaction.

He took her hand, keeping his expression neutral. “Sweetheart, whatever you want.”

“You don’t care if the baby isn’t biologically ours?”

“Would you?”

She shook her head. “In every other way it would be.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Is this what you want?”

She thought about it for a minute. “I want a baby. I want to be a mom. How it happens doesn’t matter anymore.”

“We’ll look into it,” he said, his eyes warm and full of love. “Why didn’t you tell me Shannon named the baby after Maggie?”

She flinched and tried to pull her hand away but he wouldn’t let her go.

“You thought I would get mad, didn’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” She raised her eyes to his.

“I’m more angry that you didn’t tell me. You have to trust me, Tess.”

Tess looked away. Was that why she hadn’t told him? Because she didn’t trust him? She hadn’t thought so, but maybe he was right. “I’m sorry.”

He touched her face, traced her cheek with the pad of his finger. “I love you, Tess. We’re learning, that’s all. And we’ll get it right eventually.”

She leaned into his touch. “It was hard, holding Theresa. I missed Maggie.”

He pulled his hand away and Tess expected him to pull away mentally as well, but to her surprise he didn’t. “She reminded me of Maggie, with the red hair.”

Tears sprang to Tess’s eyes but she blinked them away. This was the first conversation they’d had about their daughter that didn’t deal with anger and recriminations. “She didn’t have as much hair as Theresa.”

Alex didn’t say anything and her heart fell. He was pushing her away again, unwilling to talk about their daughter. There had been days after Maggie’s death when she’d ached to talk to Alex about her, but he’d always turned away.

“I never got to hold her.” He sounded so lost, so sad. “I saw her in the morgue, but I couldn’t hold her.” He cleared his throat and looked away.

The waitress arrived with their drinks and Alex grabbed his bottle of beer and concentrated on picking at the label, his expression closed.

The moment was over, but Tess knew there would be others. That this was just the beginning.

She leaned her elbows on the scarred Formica table. “So, tell me about your meeting with the lieutenant.”

“They’re closing the case,” he said to the bottle.

For a moment she was so shocked she couldn’t say anything.

He pulled off a big chunk of the label and rolled it into a ball. “They think the drug ring moved on. The detectives don’t have any other leads.”

“But that’s not right! What about Jason? The man killed your contact and they’re just closing the case? Just like that?”

Alex lifted his gaze to hers in amusement. “It’s not officially closed, but the detectives won’t be spending all their time on it.”

“It’s still not right.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “I agree, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Alex. It’s not your fault.”

“If I could remember who shot me and who killed Jason, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“You’ll remember.”

“The doctors said I may not.”

They lapsed into silence until the waitress arrived with their dinner. Then they ate in silence. A miniature train on a track suspended above their heads whistled a long, thin wail. The group of men at the next table laughed.

Tess dunked her last fry in the ketchup, popped it in her mouth and chewed. “So, did the lieutenant want to talk about anything else or just update you on the case?”

His gaze slid away from hers and the fries and burger she’d just eaten formed a big ball in her stomach.

“Alex? What’d the lieutenant really want?”

He pushed the rest of his fries into a small pile.

Tess sat back and put her hands over her roiling stomach. “Damn it, just say it.”

Alex wouldn’t look at her. Because he was afraid she’d see the need in his eyes? The need to return to work?

“Who was it that said we had to stop keeping things from each other?” Her mouth was dry, her words angry. Damn it, she’d thought they were making progress. How could he be angry at her for keeping things from him when he was doing the same thing?

“I planned on telling you. But after Shannon and the baby, I decided to hold off.”

“I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

A few beats of silence followed. “They need me to return to work.”

“When?”

“As soon as I can get Dr. Ford to sign the papers.”

All good things must end. And the end had come. Soon the cop’s life would suck Alex back in.

“If you don’t want me to go back, I won’t.”

“You’d do that?” He’d give up his career, everything he worked for, just because she asked?

“I’d do anything to save our marriage. I’d hoped you’d realize that by now.”

He was offering her everything she wished for, but at what price? What if she told him to forget the job and the career he loved? How much time would that give them before he resented her for taking away what made him Alexandre Juran?

He sat back, a muscle in his jaw ticking, his eyes hard and cold. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

Six months ago, definitely. A month ago, maybe. Now? Now she didn’t know. She’d learned a lot of things about her husband since the shooting, but more importantly, she’d learned a lot about herself.

Alex wasn’t the only one to blame for their almost-failed marriage. She was stronger than she thought because she’d bucked up and taken over his care when he needed her the most. She’d also reaffirmed her waning belief in the power of love—the power of Alex’s love and her love for him. And they’d come so far discussing Maggie and everything else that had stood like an elephant between them.

She had felt abandoned in their marriage. Maggie’s death had shed a large spotlight on things she hadn’t been happy with for a long time, but they were working on that. Alex was working on that. She didn’t feel that way anymore and just because he was returning to work, it didn’t mean he would revert to his old ways.

She hoped. The only way to find out was to jump in with both feet.

“What do you want, Tess?”

I want it all. I want what we’ve had for the past month. I don’t want your job to come between us again. “I want us both to be happy.”

“You want me to make the decision. I can’t do that, Tess, because either way I lose.”

“Either way I lose, too.”

He shook his head. “Why won’t you trust me to do the right thing? Why do you keep punishing me for the past?”

Is that what she’d been doing? Punishing him?

She stared at Alex, her heart realizing her answer before her brain. She didn’t want another separation, and she didn’t want a divorce. She wanted Alex.

She pried his fingers from the bottle of beer he was clutching so tightly. He looked at her with dark eyes and she smiled. “You can’t be anything other than a cop. And you can’t be anything other than my husband. Go back to work, we’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed her hand. “You sure?”

“Definitely.”

***

Everything would work out. For the first time Tess truly believed that. She had Alex. They had their love.

She stretched against her husband. Desire and need pulsed through her stomach, spreading to her arms and legs. Her heart. Alex nipped her naked breast as his body slid up hers. She opened beneath him, sensing a difference in their lovemaking this night, an unspoken vow to remember their love and commitment to each other. The reverence of his touches astounded her, humbled her and brought tears of joy to her eyes.

This went beyond the joining of two bodies, beyond the joining of two souls, into a realm they’d never crossed before.

Alex entered her and paused, staring into her eyes. His feelings warmed her, enlivened her. If she’d been standing, the intense love she was staring at would have brought her to her knees.

Everything would work out.

Everything would be all right.

They had each other and they had their love.

***

“You’re a remarkable man, Mr. Juran.” While Dr. Ford looked over Alex’s file, Tess held her breath. She wanted the doctor to sign the medical release because that’s what Alex wanted, but the doctor had taken her time, checking Alex out, consulting with the physical therapist.

So far, the doctor had remained tightlipped about her decision. She shook her head and clucked her tongue at the pages in front of her. Alex’s fingers tightened around Tess’s.

Dr. Ford closed the file and folded her hands on top of it, looking at Alex over her glasses. “So you want to return to work.”

“I feel I’m ready.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s been three months to the day that you were shot. Quite an anniversary, eh?”

Alex remained silent but Tess could feel him stiffen.

“The knee may seem strong,” Dr. Ford said. “You may walk without a limp, but the ligaments are still healing.”

Alex swallowed but held the doctor’s gaze.

“You’re a determined young man.” She glanced from Alex to Tess. “In more than your recuperation.”

Alex smiled and squeezed Tess’s hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

She tapped the folder in front of her. “And if I don’t sign those papers of yours?”

“I can’t return to work without your signature.” His voice sounded strained.

“No, I don’t suppose you can.” She opened the folder and extracted the medical release. “At the risk of repeating myself, you’re a remarkable man. I saw your determination when we first met and you informed me your wife wasn’t returning.” She shot Alex a mischievous smile, causing them both to laugh.

“I was mistaken,” he said.

Dr. Ford reached for a pen. “Glad to see you’re human.” She signed the release and handed it to Alex. “I can’t allow you to return at full capacity, I’m sorry.”

Tess’s stomach clenched and she glanced at Alex who was staring stony faced at the doctor, the form crinkling in his hand.

“The knee hasn’t had adequate time to heal fully,” the doctor said. “However, I believe you are ready to return to light duty for the time being.” She looked up at Alex and put her pen down. “You’re disappointed.”

“I was hoping for a full return.”

“I’m sure you were. Be patient. It will happen. Three months ago, I wouldn’t have said that. Three months ago, I was convinced you’d never return to police work, but you’ve proved me wrong. Don’t overdo it now, Officer. Take it easy, keep up with your physical therapy and see me in six weeks. We’ll reevaluate then.”

They walked out of the office in silence, still holding hands.

“I’m sorry,” Tess said.

“No. Don’t be. She’s right. We never thought I’d get this far. I just need to be patient.” They laughed together because they both knew patience wasn’t one of Alex’s virtues. “And light duty’s not all that bad. At least I’m going back. You sure you’re okay with this?”

Surprisingly, she was. She’d made peace with the past and with Alex’s career. Things had changed between them. They talked more, they were more open with each other and because of that their love was deeper and sweeter. He swore he’d say “no” more often when asked to take on extra projects and she believed him.

“I’m okay with this,” she said.

Alex grinned and kissed her temple. “I love you, Tessie.”

***

Tess settled the last of the apple pies in the back of the van and straightened, massaging the small of her back. She ached in places long forgotten. Their lovemaking last night had been…athletic. She chuckled and shut the van doors. The sun had yet to rise and she’d already been up two hours. She envied Alex, still fast asleep and warm under the covers with Othello lying on his feet.

Maybe she’d deliver the pies and crawl back into bed with him. After all, they didn’t have many more mornings together like this. She shivered in anticipation and nearly ran to the driver’s side and yanked open the door.

She put her key in the ignition and turned. Click. Nothing. She turned it a second time. Again, nothing. She pulled the key out and looked at it with a frown, thinking maybe she’d used the wrong one. Nope, right key. Just to make sure, she started the whole process over, inserting the key, turning. Clickclickclick.

“Damn.” The battery must be dead.

With a weary sigh, she climbed out of the van. She’d have to take Alex’s pickup. The pies would fit in the cab, but just barely.

After unloading them from the van and loading them into the pickup, she hurried back into the house, running behind schedule.

Alex lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other lying on his bare chest. She’d love to forget her deliveries and climb on top of him to give him a wake-up kiss he’d never forget. Unfortunately, she’d have some irate customers.

“Alex.” She shook his shoulder. Othello thumped his tail and rolled onto his side. “Alex.”

Alex sighed and brushed her hand away. She leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. His lips twitched. Unable to resist, she kissed them again.

“Mmmmm. C’mere.” He reached for her, but she backed up.

“Can’t. The van battery’s dead. I’m taking your truck to make my deliveries.”

He rolled over and with a deep sigh fell asleep again. Tess grabbed the truck keys off the nightstand, hoping he’d remember when he woke up, although she doubted it. She thought briefly of writing a note, but decided she didn’t have time. Besides, she’d be back soon and he’d probably still be asleep.

When she climbed into the cab, it smelled of apples, cinnamon and nutmeg. She started the engine and pulled away, tuning in her favorite radio station and singing along.

The weather in this part of the country was so unpredictable—especially in March. Two nights ago it had snowed. Yesterday had warmed enough to melt the snow and last night everything had frozen again. Taking her time, careful to watch for icy patches on the road, Tess turned the corner and headed down the hill. She fiddled with the heat because the still-warm pies, combined with her singing, had steamed the windows.

Noticing a large patch of ice up ahead, she tapped on the brake pedal. When the truck didn’t slow, she hit the pedal harder. Still no reaction. The brake pedal was like a sponge and the truck picked up speed. Panicked, she stomped on the brake and the pedal hit the floor.

Oh, God, the brakes are gone.

To her left, a guardrail and a fifty-foot drop. To her right, houses and trees. The truck raced for another patch of ice. Tess fought to remember all the advice she’d heard about ice and faulty brakes, but panic pushed rational thought aside.

Her sweating hands slipped on the steering wheel and the truck veered toward the guardrail.

The front bumper glanced off the rail, tossing the truck sideways into the hard steel. She jerked the steering wheel in the opposite direction and downshifted. The engine whined. The pickup bucked and fishtailed. Rubber squealed. A pie slid off the passenger seat, hit the glove box and fell to the floor with a wet plop.

She tried the brakes again, but it was no use. She dropped it down another gear. The engine screamed in response, but the truck remained at an even speed.

“Oh, God.” Her gaze flew to the line of trees to her right. The trees, or the guardrail and a fifty-foot drop? She steered toward the trees. Maybe, if she hit it right she wouldn’t cause too much damage to Alex’s truck.

Or herself.

The speedometer remained at thirty-five but she felt like she was going faster than that.

The front tires hit another patch of ice and the truck began to slide sideways. She managed to straighten the vehicle and once again head for the trees.

She tensed. A horn sounded behind her. The tree loomed bigger and bigger until it filled her vision.

Nature and machine met in a sickening crunch of metal. Tess flew forward before the seatbelt jerked her back. A loud pop and the airbag exploded. The engine coughed, then died.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, didn’t even know if she’d lost consciousness. The airbag lay in her lap, looking like a deflated balloon, and white powder was everywhere—all over her, the pies, the inside of the truck. She blinked and her vision blurred. She swiped at her face and her hand came away bloody.

The driver’s side door opened and the cold air helped clear her mind.

“Hey, you okay?” A concerned-looking younger man poked his head in. “Jesus, you’re bleeding.”

She winced and touched the blood on her face.

“What the hell happened?” He looked around the cab at the apple pie filling dripping off the dashboard and the metal pans poking out of crumpled bakery boxes. Everything was covered in fine white dust. “What is that?”

“Apple pies.”

Sirens wailed from far off.

“I called the cops.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so hot.”

She didn’t feel so hot. And on top of her aches and pains, Alex’s truck had a tree nestled in a huge dent in the center of the grill. The hood was so buckled it almost touched the windshield.

She fumbled with the seatbelt, needing to get out because the scent of the ruined pies and leaking gas made her want to retch.

The guy reached over her and grabbed her hands. “Hey, what’re you doing?” He looked over her shoulder at a cruiser that was just turning the corner with its lights on. “Cops are here. I gotta go.”

“Wait.” Tess reached out to stop him. “What’s your name? I want to thank you—”

He shook his head and took a step back. “No need. Gotta go, Tess.” He turned on his heel and fled.

Tess’s stomach rolled. She managed to release the seatbelt and stumble out of the truck, landing on her hands and knees and losing her breakfast.

Shiny black shoes stepped in front of her and she looked up into a young officer’s face. He squatted down in front of her and she squinted to read his nametag. S. Harrison.

She’d heard Alex talk about Harrison.

“The ambulance is on the way, ma’am. Maybe you’d better sit back, lean against the truck.” He helped her to sit.

Tess clutched his arm with shaking hands. “Scott, right?”

His brows drew together. “Do I know you?”

“Tess Juran.”

His eyes widened.

“The brakes went out on Alex’s truck… Will you…call him?” She began to shiver so hard her teeth chattered. Harrison pried her fingers off his jacket, but she grabbed for him again. “No—”

“I’m going to get a blanket out of my cruiser, Mrs. Juran. I’ll be right back.”

She hugged herself. “Call Alex.”

Chapter Twenty

Othello barked and nudged Alex’s hand.

Alex cracked an eye open and glared at the dog. “Go ’way. Let yourself out.” Othello licked his fingers, trotted over to the closed bedroom door and whined.

Alex groaned. “The sun’s barely up. Can’t you hold it?”

O did a little prance and nosed the doorknob. Alex rolled out of bed, grabbing his discarded jeans along the way. He pulled them on and without zipping them followed Othello down the hall.

The scent of warm apple pie drifted from the kitchen. When he’d lived in his apartment, he’d missed waking to the smells of Tess’s baking.

He let O out the back door and headed for the coffee pot. God bless Tess. She hated coffee, but always had a pot going for him when he woke up. He glanced at the clock as he poured his first cup. He’d have enough time for a quick workout before she returned from her deliveries—then he had another workout in mind with her.

The doorbell rang. Alex carried his mug of steaming coffee into the living room and opened the door, not at all surprised to see Tony. They’d stopped by here for many a hot cup of coffee in the middle of a shift.

Alex held up his cup. “Coffee’s hot. Come on in.” Othello barked to be let in. Alex headed back toward the kitchen.

“I’m not here for coffee, AJ.”

Alex turned, recognizing the pinched, serious, I-don’t-want-to-be-here look on his partner’s face. They had delivered bad news to unsuspecting family members enough times for him to know that look. “What’s up?”

“Tess was in a crash.”

His gaze went to the open door and Tess’s van parked in the drive. He vaguely remembered her telling him she had to take the truck because the van wouldn’t start. “How bad?”

Tony shut the door behind him. “She’s conscious, that’s all I know. Harrison’s at the scene.”

“I—is she hurt?”

“All I know is she’s asking for you. Said the brakes on the truck went out. The ambulance is on the way.”

Ambulance? The word jolted him into motion and he raced for the bedroom.

“Call Harrison,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Find out what the hell’s going on and let the damn dog in.”

He dressed in record time and met Tony at the car.

“What’d Harrison say?” Alex jerked open the passenger door of the cruiser.

Tony climbed in on the driver’s side. “Not much. The EMTs are looking her over.”

Alex ran a hand through his hair. “The brakes went out?”

“That’s what she said.” Tony cleared the neighborhood and hit the lights and siren.

“That doesn’t make sense. I drove the truck yesterday and the brakes were fine.”

Tony took the corner too fast and they slid on a patch of ice. “Why would she be driving your truck?”

Alex grabbed the dash and shook his head as Tony righted the cruiser. “The van’s battery was dead. Where’s the wreck?”

“Webster Pike.”

On Webster Pike, Alex scanned the road in front of him, searching for his truck and the revolving lights of the ambulance. His gut coiled in a tight knot and his knuckles turned white on the dash. If anything happened to her…

He pulled his thoughts from that direction. Tony said she was conscious and answering questions. That was good. So what the hell happened? How’d the brakes go out on a truck not even two years old?

Tony slowed on the icy road and Alex cringed, thinking of Tess trying to control a two-ton truck on ice with no brakes and a fifty-foot drop on one side. “Did Harrison say if she ran off the road?”

Tony remained silent, his lips a thin line. Alex’s stomach threatened to heave. Jesus Christ, what had happened?

A line of cruisers, fire trucks and an ambulance blocked the road. He found his truck. The front end was squashed against a tree, the hood crumpled and the driver’s door open with the airbag hanging out. Thank God she’d steered for the trees.

Tony drew up alongside a fire truck and Alex jumped out, pushing his way through the crowd of officers and firefighters. His gaze darted from the smashed truck to the ambulance.

Tony grabbed his arm and pointed at two EMTs pushing a stretcher. Tess’s bright red hair spilled over the side, the slight breeze and the movement of the gurney blowing it. She was strapped to a backboard, her head immobilized. Oh, Jesus.

Tony fell into step beside him but it felt as if they were walking through sludge, like in those dreams where you were running but not getting anywhere. Harrison joined on the other side. Alex reached her and leaned over, pushing hair out of her eyes.

She was deathly pale, almost gray. Blood covered her face and dribbled down her temple. Her eyes opened, the irises a brilliant green.

His lips trembled, but he forced them into a semblance of a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Alex.” A tear leaked out of the corner of one eye and mixed with the blood. “I’m so sorry about the truck.”

He touched her cheek, blinking back his own tears. “Don’t worry about the truck. How are you? What hurts?”

She grimaced. “Everything. My chest, my head, my back.”

His eyes flew to the EMT and she shook her head. “Probably from the seatbelt catching her. We’re taking her in just to be on the safe side. She was sitting by the truck when we got here.”

“Hold my hand, Alex. I can’t move my arm, they have me strapped.”

He grabbed her ice-cold fingers and tried to massage some warmth into them.

“You need to step back,” the EMT said to him. “Just while we load her in the ambulance.”

Reluctantly Alex let go of Tess’s fingers. She groaned at the jostling and he swore he felt her every ache and pain.

“I’m riding with her,” he told the EMT.

“In the front,” she shot over her shoulder.

He turned to Harrison and Tony. With a motion for them to follow, he made his way to the front of the ambulance. “How’d the call come in?” he asked Harrison.

“To the Comm Center as a 911,” Harrison said.

“Who made the call?”

Harrison shrugged. “Don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

“Do that.” He opened the passenger door and placed one foot up. “Blankenship, get the truck towed to Barnes. I want it thoroughly checked out. There’s no way the brakes were bad on my truck.”

Tony nodded, his look skeptical. “AJ, don’t go thinkin’—”

“No way, Tony. Those brakes were good last night.” Alex heaved himself into the ambulance. “I’ll be at the hospital.”

***

He stood in the shadows of the ER’s door and raised his cigarette to his mouth with a shaking hand. Blood pounded through his veins and his breath came in ragged gasps.

She never drove Juran’s pickup. Never. He closed his eyes. Shit. That had been the single worst moment of his life—other than seeing Juran destroy his career. Watching Tess drive away, knowing what was going to happen. He could do nothing but follow and witness the pickup gain speed and head first for the drop then the tree. Short of yanking her out of the truck—and betraying himself—what could he have done but follow?

The wail of an approaching siren had him straightening and tossing down his cigarette. He ground it out with the toe of his boot as he lurked in the shadows of the emergency room doors. People were coming and going, but no one looked his way.

The ambulance pulled up. The driver hopped out and opened the rear doors. Two EMTs lowered Tess’s stretcher. She was strapped to a backboard, her face bloody, and he felt the blood drain from his face. What had he done? Holy crap, what had he done?

Juran walked into his line of sight and he backed up, mingling with a crowd exiting the building. Jealousy and anger burned a hole through him. The bastard. If Juran had driven the pickup like he always did, he would be the one lying on the stretcher.

He clenched his hands until a veil of red tinged everything. It was all Juran’s fault that Tess had wrecked that truck.

***

Alex stepped out of the way while the ER nurses and doctor worked on Tess. They wiped the blood from her face, took her blood pressure and checked her pupils while the doctor asked her questions. The cadence of her strong voice calmed his fears but he’d yet to see her move.

The doctor turned to Alex and held out his hand. “Mr. Juran? I’m Dr. Stapleton.” Alex shook with a trembling hand. “You can talk to her now. We’re finished for the time being.”

Alex stepped forward. Because she was still strapped to the backboard, she could move nothing but her eyes, which swung to him.

“I want to go home,” she said in a broken whisper.

The doctor approached her other side, his fingers searching for the pulse on her other wrist. “All in good time, Mrs. Juran. We need to take some x-rays first.”

Tess glared at Alex and he smiled at the mutinous expression on her face.

After the nurses took her away, Alex sat on the rolling stool, scooting backward until his head rested against the wall.

“Juran?” Harrison poked his head through the closed curtains. “Oh, good, I found you. You don’t know how many rooms I poked my head into.” He shuddered. “You don’t even want to know the things I’ve seen.”

“What’d you find out?” Alex asked.

Harrison pulled his notebook out of his front shirt pocket and flipped it open. “Call came from a cell phone belonging to a Bertrand Smith. When I called the cell number, I didn’t get an answer so I called Mr. Smith at home. Found out Mr. Smith’s cell phone and wallet were stolen out of his car last night.” Harrison flipped his notebook shut. “I checked the reports from last night. Sure as shit there’s a report. Man left his wallet and cell phone in his unlocked car. Makes sense.”

Alex rolled his head toward Harrison. “What makes sense?”

“The witness at the scene this morning disappeared as soon as I got there.”

“Disappeared?”

Harrison nodded. “He was standing at the door of the truck, talking to Tess. When I pulled up, he hightailed it out of there.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, it does make sense. If he’s a criminal, he wouldn’t want to stick around and give us a witness report. Damn, I’d hoped he could tell us if anyone else had been around or if he’d seen anything suspicious.”

Harrison stuffed his notebook in his pocket. “A criminal with enough conscience to call 911?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s one thing to steal from someone stupid enough to leave his wallet in an unlocked car. Something else to see someone hurt and not do anything. Especially a woman.”

Harrison nodded. “I’d like to ask Tess if she got his name. Maybe I could at least nail him for the thefts. Plus I need her statement for the crash report.”

Alex closed his eyes again, exhaustion tugging at him. “Sure. But I have to warn you, she’s not in the best mood.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She hurts.”

“We’re back.” A nurse wheeled Tess into the room. He was relieved to see they’d taken off the backboard and neck brace and propped her up on pillows, because that meant there wasn’t too much damage. She was still a little pale and a large bruise was forming on her forehead, but she looked like the old Tess.

The doctor stepped in after them. “Everything looks good, Mrs. Juran. No major injuries. You’ll be sore for a while, mainly your back and chest and that bump on your head. Ibuprofen should do the trick. We need to get that gash stitched up, then you’re free to go.”

Harrison stepped forward after the nurse and doctor left. “It’s good to see you’re all right, Mrs. Juran,” he said.

Tess looked at Harrison and smiled. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Tess, tell us about the man who showed up after the crash,” Alex said.

She looked confused, then her face cleared. “Oh, him. He said he called the police. He was really nice, sat with me until Scott arrived.”

“What did he look like?” Harrison asked.

Tess frowned and stared at the wall. “I don’t really remember. Everything happened so fast and I felt so sick.” She closed her eyes. “The car smelled like apple pies and motor oil.” She grimaced. “He had to duck to look in the cab of the truck. He had brown hair? Dark blond? Something like that.”

“Did he say his name?” Alex asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He acted strange though when Scott showed up. Said he had to go.”

“Anything else? Can you remember exactly what he said?”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Alex told her about the stolen cell phone and Harrison trying to track down the witness to question him about it.

“He said, ‘Gotta go, Tess,’ and that was it.”

Alex sat up. “He said your name? Did you tell him your name?”

She rubbed her temples. “I must have, because he knew it.”

Chapter Twenty-One

A wave of dizziness had Tess clutching the kitchen counter. The mixing spoon she’d been holding clattered to the floor. The cabinets shifted and swayed and she closed her eyes, her stomach heaving.

Nearly a week had passed since the accident and still she felt dizzy and nauseated. She hadn’t told Alex but she had told her doctor when she went for her follow-up checkup the day before. He hadn’t seemed too concerned but drew some blood, just in case, and told her to expect the results sometime today. Her bruises were slowly fading, the pain was all but gone and she had quickly returned to a full workload. Alex’s return to work hadn’t been as traumatic as she had feared. In fact, she liked that they were falling into a routine. They ate dinner together every night, something they had rarely done in the past. In the evenings they just hung out and, in those moments, reconnected.

It was the life she had always hoped for and even Alex seemed to enjoy it.

She opened her eyes slowly and retrieved the spoon from Othello’s jaws. She threw it in the sink and grabbed a clean one. Today was St. Patrick’s Day and while it wasn’t as busy a holiday as Christmas and Valentine’s Day, she still had orders to complete. She’d just renewed a very lucrative contract with her best customer and was about to sign another. More and more she’d been thinking of hiring someone to help her out, especially now that she and Alex were back together and she didn’t want her career interfering.

The phone rang and she put her mixing spoon down to answer it.

“Mrs. Juran? This is Nancy from Dr. Gold’s office calling with the results from your tests yesterday.”

Tess leaned against the counter, her heart picking up speed. Please, please, please don’t let anything be wrong. “Yes?”

“Everything came back normal except one thing we believe is the reason you’ve been experiencing those dizzy spells.”

She gripped the phone tighter. “Yes?

“This isn’t normally how we find such things out, but Dr. Gold ordered this test along with the others.”

Just get on with it! She couldn’t figure out why the nurse was babbling when she was dying inside. Positive she’d injured something during the crash. “And?”

“Congratulations, Mrs. Juran, you’re pregnant.”

A long silence followed in which Tess opened her mouth several times to say something. Her knees felt weak and she sank to the floor. Othello came over and lay next to her, pressing the length of his body against her leg. “Are you sure?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up. Almost didn’t want to believe.

The nurse laughed. “We’re sure. You’ll want to make an appointment with an obstetrician. Is this your first?”

For a moment Tess was too stunned to answer. “What? Oh, no. Not my first.”

“Then you know the drill. Make that appointment, Mrs. Juran, and congratulations.”

“Yes. Um. Thank you.” She turned the phone off and sat on the kitchen floor, staring at a cabinet door, absently patting Othello.

A baby. Something stirred inside her. Hope. Joy. Fear. No. She wouldn’t let the fear consume her. This one would be healthy. Full term and healthy. A baby.

Her head fell back and tears traveled down her cheeks.

A baby.

Hours later, still dazed at the completely unexpected news, she popped a roast into the oven. She’d tell Alex the news over his favorite meal. Would he be happy? Or scared as hell? Maybe both, just like she was.

The phone rang again and she picked it up to hear the wail of a newborn.

“Tess?” Shannon sobbed.

“Shannon? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Roger. I can’t find him.” The girls shrieked on the other end, drowning out the baby’s cries.

“What do you mean you can’t find Roger?”

“I sent him out to buy diapers and some things at the grocery store. He hasn’t returned.”

Tess’s shoulder slumped and irritation replaced the worry. “Shannon, I’m sure he got sidetracked or something. Do you need the diapers that badly? I’ll get them myself.”

“No, you don’t understand. That was this morning. He’s been gone over four hours. I keep calling his cell phone, but he won’t answer. I’m really worried. He’s been acting so strange. At first I thought it was the new baby, but now I just don’t know.” Shannon’s voice trailed off into sniffles.

“I’ll tell you what, Shannon. I’ll run to the store and get the diapers, then help you out for a few hours. How’s that?”

“Th-thanks, Tess. I just don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Tess hung up and grabbed her car keys. Damn Roger Sheffield. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she opened the front door and ran smack into Roger.

***

“Juran—” Tony sighed. “This is getting old.”

“I can’t figure out how the mechanic didn’t find any evidence of tampering,” Alex said, mostly to himself. “Those brakes were good. I know they were.”

Alex sat in the driver’s seat of the police cruiser, staring at the warehouses in front of him. Tony slouched in his seat on the passenger side and folded his hands across his stomach.

Since Tess’s accident, Alex had returned to light duty, falling into a routine he loved, doing the kinds of things he enjoyed and saying no when they asked him to take on special assignments—and they’d begun asking his first day. Tess was more important and because he was making her a priority, his marriage grew stronger by the day. Except for this last thing, life had become perfect.

If only he could remember.

He stepped out of the cruiser and closed the door. Jason here told me you’re interested in dealing.

Alex searched his mind for that voice. He knew it, recognized it, but couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.

He closed his eyes, relaxed his muscles and took his mind back to that night. The man had kept to the shadows at first, but then something made him step into the light.

And Alex had looked into the eyes of…his brother-in-law.

Roger Sheffield had killed Jason. And shot him.

His eyes snapped open. Holy shit! The man the department was after for dealing illegal drugs was his own brother-in-law and a fellow cop. Rage swept through him, but he kept it on a tight leash. Three gunshots reverberated in his mind. Jason’s dead eyes looked at him. His knee throbbed in remembrance.

He swung around and ran to the cruiser.

“It’s Sheffield.” He reached the driver’s side and threw the door open.

“Sheffield?” Tony straightened in his seat. “You sure?”

“Damn sure.” He threw the car in reverse and with a squeal of rubber, backed out. “I remember the whole thing.”

Alex radioed Upton to meet them at the station. They pulled in at the same time and jogged up the steps together.

Alex told them about that night. About Roger being there, his surprise at seeing Alex. He recounted the scuffle between them and the shots fired. Upton called in Lt. Watson. Within a half hour they had a team assembled.

“Call Sheffield,” the lieutenant told Alex. “Today’s his day off. See if he’s home. Ask him to stay there, come up with some reason, but don’t let on that you know.”

With shaking hands, Alex dialed Roger’s home number.

“Hello?”

“Shannon?” His hand tightened on the receiver. Roger Sheffield. He’d been under Alex’s nose the entire time, visiting Alex in the hospital, acting concerned, lending his support to Tess.

Tess.

Ah, God, what would she do when she found out? And Shannon? The poor woman had four kids including a newborn and her husband was headed to prison. This would rip her world apart.

“Alex?”

“I’m looking for Roger. He around?” He steeled himself against her voice and the whimpers of the baby in the background. He had a job to do, a murderer to apprehend. He and Tess would help Shannon afterward, but first he needed to get Roger.

Shannon sniffled. “I can’t find him, Alex. He disappeared hours ago. I called Tess. She’s on her way over.”

His heart nearly stopped and his hand slipped on the receiver. “Listen, Shannon, will you call me when Roger returns?” He recited his cell phone number then hung up. He dialed Tess’s cell phone while telling Watson, Upton and the rest of the guys what was going on.

The phone rang and rang until her voicemail picked up. Alex slammed the phone down. “Shit.” Why the hell did she even have a cell phone if she never bothered to answer it?

“Tess is on her way to Roger’s,” he said. “I have to stop her.”

“You can’t do anything right now,” Watson said. “If you go racing over there and Roger sees you, you’ll blow the whole thing.”

***

“What are you doing here, Roger?” Tess tightened her hands around her keys. Behind her, Othello growled. Roger’s bloodshot eyes glanced at the dog before coming back to her.

“Shannon sent me over.”

“Shannon? But…” She took in Roger’s dirty, disheveled hair, the dark rings under his eyes and his pasty skin. His hands shook and he shifted from one foot to the other.

“You okay, Roger?” Tess wanted to back up a step because he was making her nervous. She’d never seen him so tightly strung.

He laughed and she cringed at the brittle sound. “Hell, no, I’m not okay. Alex around?”

She shook her head. Othello barked and Roger bared his teeth at the dog. “Put the damn dog away. Little shit never did like me.”

Tess stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. Othello barked harder, then whined and scratched at the door.

“Where’s Alex?” Roger asked.

“At work.”

“He went back to work?”

Tess stared at him in surprise. Roger knew Alex had gone back to work. “Yes.”

Dirt-caked fingernails ran through his hair. He’d always been meticulous about his appearance to the point of being vain, now he looked like a street bum.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he mumbled.

“Can’t take what? The baby?” Having four kids had to be hard and Tess knew Roger never really wanted the last one.

He snorted. “Shit. No.”

“What can’t you take anymore?”

He stared at her, his eyes a harsh blue, rimmed with red. He shook his head and looked away.

“Are you having an affair, Roger?”

He laughed. “Is that what you think? Is that what Shannon told you?”

“Shannon told me you’ve been acting strange, keeping strange hours.”

He laughed harder. Othello started barking again and behind her the door shuddered, as if the dog had thrown himself at it. Tess backed up a step. She was hemmed in with the house behind her and Roger in front of her. How stupid of her to have stepped out on the porch.

His laughter subsided into chuckles. “If only it were as simple as that.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. He wasn’t having an affair. He looked like he’d been on a binge…or drugs.

Her cell phone chimed in her purse.

“Ignore it,” Roger said, his voice tight.

Tess nodded. “Sure.” Fear cramped her stomach and she thought of the baby nestled safely inside.

He rolled his eyes. “Nothing but a waste of humanity, that kid. He would’ve ended up on the pavement one way or the other.”

Her heart climbed into her throat and she edged away from him. The home phone started to ring and she just knew it was Alex trying to get a hold of her.

Roger grabbed her upper arm in a bruising hold. “You understand now, don’t you?”

“It was you,” she said through a tight throat. Oh, my God. Roger was the one who killed Jason and shot Alex. All this time they were looking for the guy and he’d been right here.

“Where’s Alex?” he asked harshly.

“I told you, at work.”

He shook her arm. “You don’t understand what the past few months have been like, wondering when he’d remember. I kept hoping he wouldn’t, then you said bits and pieces had come back. Time was running out, I could feel it. The walls were closing in and it’s…it’s like I can’t breathe anymore.” He took deep breaths, as if to punctuate his point.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what? Shoot Alex or sell drugs?” His hold loosened on her arm, but he didn’t let go. “Do you know what it’s like living with your sister? ‘Roger, I need money for this. Caitlyn would like to take dance lessons and Elizabeth is so very good at soccer.’” His voice mimicked Shannon’s whine perfectly. “Of course none of the kids can go to public schools, it has to be private. Do you know how much private schools cost? I’m just a cop, living on a cop’s salary.”

“You could have told her no, said there wasn’t enough money.”

He looked at her as if he’d never even considered the option. “I couldn’t do that. I’d promised to give her the life she wanted.”

For a moment Tess didn’t know what to say. She could tell that Roger still loved Shannon but Shannon’s excessiveness and whining had pushed him over the edge. Still, murder and drugs weren’t the answer. “Even if it meant another person’s life? Alex’s career?”

“The money was good and I knew the ins and outs, how to avoid the cops. It was so easy and the money just came pouring in, loads and loads of it, enough to put Caitlyn in every dance outfit she ever wanted. Enough to hire a personal soccer coach for Elizabeth if she wanted one.”

A car turned onto the street. Tess turned to look at the same time Roger did. When he saw it was a cruiser he grabbed her around the throat and pulled her in front of him. Just like her attacker had that day in Alex’s apartment. Had it been Roger in that apartment?

The cruiser stopped in front of the neighbor’s house and Alex climbed out, his gaze trained on Roger, his hands out to his side, away from his weapon.

Roger dragged Tess to the middle of the yard. She sucked in cold air through the tight hold on her neck, trying not to let her panic overtake her good sense.

“You remembered,” Roger said.

“I remember.” Alex’s gaze flicked to Tess, then back to Roger.

“Let her go, man.” Tony stepped up next to Alex.

Roger shook his head. “I can’t.”

Roger looked like hell and that scared the shit out of Alex. Cornered men were unpredictable. It wasn’t uncommon for people in Roger’s predicament to force a cop to shoot him in the hopes he’d die. Suicide by cop it was called.

Roger whipped a gun out from his back waistband and shoved the barrel into Tess’s neck. She gasped and Alex tensed. Past and present became one. Jason’s face merged with Tess’s and Alex froze.

Tony stepped forward. Roger backed up, his gaze darting around the neighborhood. Mrs. Thomas from across the street stepped out of her house.

“Get back in the house,” Tony shouted. She practically dove back in and slammed the door closed.

Alex could hear Othello barking inside his house.

“You’re choking her,” Alex said.

Roger loosened his hold and Tess took a deep breath.

“Think of your girls, Sheffield. What’s going to happen to them?”

“It’s too late now, Juran. You’ve already got me for murder. What’s one more?” He ran the barrel of his Beretta down Tess’s neck and she shuddered.

“You want your girls to live the rest of their life with the knowledge their daddy killed their aunt? Is that what you want, Sheffield?”

Roger looked away, but just as quickly looked back. “You ruined everything, Juran. I had a good gig going. No one was getting hurt.”

“What about the drugs you put on the street? You don’t think anyone was hurt by that?”

“If I didn’t provide it, someone else would have.”

“Let her go, Roger.” Alex lowered his voice as if he and Roger were holding a quiet conversation, the only two on the street. Two more cruisers pulled up, the officers quietly exiting their cars, their guns drawn.

Roger’s gaze went to them and Alex saw the moment Roger understood he was outnumbered. He lifted his gun and pointed it at his own head.

Tess twisted into the grip just like Alex had taught her, flinging Roger’s arm away and at the same time pushing him. He stumbled, the gun went off and Tess fell.

“No!” With his heart in his throat, Alex ran. He grabbed Tess by the shoulders and rolled her over. The other officers fell on Roger, smashing his face into the pavement and jerking his hands behind his back.

Roger yelled.

Tess launched herself into Alex’s arms. No blood—the shot had gone wild. He hugged her and buried his face in her hair.

***

He stood in the shadows of Mrs. Thomas’s house, his anger reaching critical mass. If he didn’t get control of it soon, he’d do something stupid. He took deep breaths, but it didn’t work. The sight of super-fucking-prick-cop Juran with his arms around Tess enraged him.

He kicked at a clump of snow. One day it would be his hands all over that lovely body. Soon. Very soon.

Right now it was time to get out. No use getting caught now. Wait until Juran’s defenses were down. Now that Sheffield was in custody, Juran would assume all the bad people had gone away.

He smiled and edged toward the back of Mrs. Thomas’s house. On the next street over, he broke into a jog and whistled.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tess smiled and touched his cheek, his hair, the little wrinkles beside his eyes.

“I can’t let go.” He hugged her tighter, breathed deeply. “God, Tess. When I saw…”

She stroked his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling her pressed against him. Too damn terrified to think of what might have happened if that shot hadn’t gone wild.

“I’m okay,” she murmured. “I’m all right.”

“I’m glad I remembered when I did.” His voice sounded strangled but wasn’t half as strangled as he felt inside. He didn’t know if he could ever let her go.

“Me, too.” She pulled away and they looked at each other. Her smile slipped, then faded. “He told me everything.”

Alex rubbed her back, wishing like hell she hadn’t been involved in this. That it had been anyone other than Roger.

“I don’t know what Shannon will do now,” she whispered.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ll help.”

She nodded and took his wrists from behind her back, drawing them away, and stepped out of his embrace. He wanted to grab her hands, to hug her to him but already he was feeling the need to help the other officers. To finish what Roger had started that dark night.

“I have to go to Shannon,” she said. “You have to finish here.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, grateful that she understood.

“We’ll talk when you get back,” she said.

He touched her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

As Alex pulled away in his cruiser, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Tess standing all alone. She turned and walked to the door. When she opened it, Othello bounded out and ran circles around her. Alex turned the corner and she was gone from his sight.

***

He stood at the threshold, his heart beating against his ribs, his breath suspended. He peered inside, afraid to actually step in. The house looked so normal. So Tess. The scent of roasting potatoes and meat filled the air, bringing with it the pain and nostalgia of his childhood. How’d she know he was a meat-and-potatoes kinda man?

He strolled through the living room, taking in the maroon afghan thrown carelessly over the forest green couch. So this was where she lived. Where she slept and showered and created Tess’s Temptations. He’d eaten her desserts, gone to every restaurant she supplied and sampled everything she baked. Pure heaven. Just like her. Maybe tonight she’d give him a sample of her temptations.

Framed photos sat on a small table by the big picture window. He lifted the one of Tess in a champagne-colored wedding gown. So beautiful. He ignored super-prick in a tux standing next to her, but it was hard. His gaze kept going to Juran, and his anger grew.

He clutched the frame so tightly it cut into his hand. Beads of blood sprouted around the edges. He stared at the crimson drops until his vision blurred and the glass in the frame cracked.

The laughter and mocking tones of the other officers filled his mind until he almost dropped the picture to clutch his head. Stop! Stop laughing at me!

They were all super-pricks, every one of them. But Juran, he was the leader, the one who’d caused it all, who told them to laugh and mock, who told them Jeffrey would never make it as a cop.

Juran had ruined his lifelong dream, his one and only chance of working in law enforcement. He was born to wear a badge, born to arrest scumbags who broke the law, born to follow in the steps of his father. The city needed him but Juran ruined that by washing him out of the Field Training Program. Supercop thought he knew better than anyone how to be a cop.

He’d applied for the security guard position at the hospital and instead had been given a mop and a bucket. He’d had no choice, had to take the damn job or starve. But it’d turned out to be a boon because he’d been there the night they brought in I-know-everything-don’t-question-me Juran. He hadn’t known everything that night, had he?

The laughter of his fellow officers became one big roar that filled his ears and his mind. His head pounded with it. Then the sound changed, deepened and became the mocking chuckle of his father, Detective Frank Abbott.

Jeffrey, you pansy, you’ll never make it as a cop. You don’t have the balls, the guts or the ambition.

Oh, yeah? Well, his father might have died without Jeffrey proving him wrong, but he could prove to Tess that he most definitely did have balls.

***

Tess let O out the back door and turned the oven off. She had no idea when she’d be back from Shannon’s house. For a fleeting moment she regretted that she would have to put off telling Alex about the baby, but then pushed the thought away. There was plenty of time. Shannon needed her now and Alex was a little preoccupied. She walked into the living room and stopped. A man stood at the small table by the window holding her wedding picture. Her gaze flew to the closed door. How the hell had he gotten in here and who the hell was he?

The man looked up and smiled, his light brown hair and pretty blue eyes familiar.

“Can I help you?”

“Tess.” He walked toward her.

Tess stepped back, shocked he knew her name.

“I was there when your pickup went off the road.”

She smiled, still wondering how he had gotten in, but took his offered hand anyway. “I’m so glad to meet you. I wanted to thank you but you were gone and you didn’t leave your name.” She said the last like it was a question.

He shook her hand and smiled. He was cute in a boyish sort of way with dark blond hair that bordered on light brown. “Jeffrey Abbott.”

The name sounded familiar but she couldn’t figure out why or where she would have heard it before. “Thank you, Jeffrey. For calling the police.” She surreptitiously glanced at the door, wondering if she’d locked it.

“It was open,” he said. “I knocked but no one answered.”

“Oh.” Who would just walk into a stranger’s house?

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

“Thanks to you.” They stood there and Tess’s unease grew. Something wasn’t right about this—aside from the fact he’d just walked into her house uninvited. He seemed nice enough with his concern for her. Then she remembered what Alex had told her about the stolen cell phone and wallet and knew that’s where her unease came from. The guy may have been nice enough to call the cops when she was injured but he was still a criminal.

She gauged the distance between herself and the door, between him and the door, wondering who would get to it first.

He must have sensed her intention because he suddenly shifted, standing between her and escape, shaking his head and taking her hand. She tried to pull away but his grip tightened until her bones ground together. Her gaze flew to his and he smiled.

With his other hand he ran his finger down her cheek. “I’m so sorry about the truck, my Tess. It was meant for Juran.”

Her breath hitched and her knees wobbled. “Wh-what?”

“Juran, fucking Supercop, was supposed to have driven that damn truck. Not you. Never you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She swallowed and tried to pull her hand away, but his hold was bruising, cutting off her circulation. And his eyes… His eyes weren’t normal. Glazed. The pupils large.

“Don’t worry, my Tess, we’ll get rid of him.”

Oh, dear God. She shook her head, her voice caught in the large lump of terror in her throat.

His finger slid down her cheek and brushed her bottom lip.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you that day in the apartment. It was all a big mistake. I just had to touch you.” His finger trailed down her neck, sending goose bumps up her arm. “You shouldn’t have struggled.”

She twisted her wrist and broke free. Turning on her heel, she ran for the kitchen, skidding around the butcher-block island. Othello barked and scratched to be let in. Little noises followed her, Abbott’s feet hitting the ceramic tile and whimpers she hadn’t even realized she’d been making.

She threw a kitchen chair in his path. He stumbled and cursed. She reached for the doorknob and closed her hand around it. Just as she twisted the knob, needles of pain shot through her head and she was jerked backward. She cried out and grabbed at her hair. He wrapped a hunk of it around his fist and dragged her away from the door. Her head exploded in pain and she tried to keep up with him to take the pressure off her scalp. She yelled, but doubted anyone would hear her.

Othello barked and Tess looked at the door. She had managed to open it about an inch.

“Why, Tess?” He sounded confused, as if he couldn’t believe she’d run from him.

He dragged her across the kitchen. She tried to keep up but she kept stumbling and he kept pulling her, muttering obscenities and curses. He reached the living room and threw her onto the couch. She bounced and gasped, massaging her aching scalp.

He pointed at her, strands of red hair dangling from his fingers. “Don’t do that again.” His chest heaved and she nodded, her gaze fixed on her hair in his hand.

He paced in front of the fireplace. Tess scooted into the corner of the couch, her gaze darting around the room, looking for a weapon. She spotted the fire poker, but it was too far away and the madman stood between her and the fireplace.

“Why him, Tessie? Why Juran?” He ran a hand down his face and stared at her. “Shut up, Daddy.”

She jumped and pushed herself farther into the couch.

He spun around and poked a finger into the air, as if speaking to someone else. “I do too have balls! I’ll show you.”

He lunged for her. Tess screamed and tried to scramble over the top of the couch. His hands wrapped around her throat, his eyes wild and demented. She struggled underneath him, pushing at his shoulders, kicking at his legs. He held her down, forcing the breath out of her lungs. With a shriek she scraped her nails down his face. He reared back, blood dripping from his cheek.

“You bitch!”

She managed to work her leg free and drew back her foot, sending it forward with all her strength, right into the balls he kept yelling he had. He rolled off the couch, clutching himself, his eyes wide, his mouth open, but no sound coming out.

Othello charged into the room, his body low to the ground, canines bared. He landed on Abbott. The man cried out. Tess scrambled over the back of the couch and ran for the kitchen. Othello yelped and Tess winced. Oh, Jesus, not O. Don’t hurt O.

She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, careful to set the receiver down so the call wouldn’t disconnect, and ran straight for the back door. Curses intermingled with growls. She stopped, turned and grabbed a knife from the butcher-block island.

Another yelp, then silence. Tess stood frozen in the middle of her kitchen, her breath coming in small gasps, hand tight around the knife. She looked toward the door leading into the hallway. The silence became thick, crushing in its weight.

***

Alex leaned against the wall and looked through the one-way mirror at Roger hunched over the table, his manacled hands folded in front of him. His attorney sat beside him, instructing him not to answer the detective’s questions.

“The man’s guilty as hell, why won’t he just admit it?”

Tony shrugged and took a sip of his soft drink.

“Did you tamper with the brakes on Officer Juran’s pickup truck?”

Roger shook his head. His attorney whispered in his ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roger said.

“What about the time Tess Juran was attacked inside Officer Juran’s apartment? Were you there?”

Roger shook his head again. “No.”

“And the spray-painting on the front door?”

“No.”

Alex made a fist and pounded the wall. “Damn it, Sheffield, admit it! It’s not like you can get in any more trouble.” He just wanted Roger to admit he’d killed Jason, shot him and tormented him and Tess for weeks on end.

Roger sobbed and wiped his eyes. The handcuffs jangled. He looked up into the one-way mirror and stared into Alex’s eyes. Alex jerked back, but knew Roger could only see his own reflection in the glass.

“I killed Jason,” he said, his voice low as if he was speaking only to Alex. “I shot Officer Juran—” He sobbed, tears falling down his ragged face. His attorney whispered furiously in his ear, but Roger batted him away. “But I did not attack Tess Juran in his apartment that day or tamper with Officer Juran’s pickup truck.”

Alex’s radio crackled.

“Unit 29.”

“Go ahead,” Upton answered.

“Report of a 911 at 1694 Elm Street.”

Alex grabbed the radio on his shoulder. “Repeat, please.” He forced the words through a tight throat.

“Report of a 911 at 1694 Elm Street.”

He headed toward the door. “That’s my house.” What the hell was happening?

Upton followed. Tony jumped up, tossing his can of pop in the trash.

“Units 29, 31 and 34, responding,” Upton said into his own radio.

You’ve made a lot of enemies in your career here, Juran. Could Upton have been right? Had Alex been wrong all along in thinking the incidents at his house and the shooting were related?

He hopped in his cruiser, grabbed the cell phone and dialed his home number. He got a busy signal and cursed. The two cruisers raced to his neighborhood with lights and sirens.

Who the hell could have done those other things? Had he made enemies who were willing to hurt his wife to get revenge?

Both cruisers screeched to a halt. Alex threw the door open and ran to his front door before Upton and Blankenship caught him by the arm.

“You can’t go storming in there. You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Upton said.

Chest heaving, he stopped and studied his house. Nothing moved. Most telling, Othello wasn’t barking. The absence of his dog made his blood run cold.

He walked up to the front door and tried the knob. Locked. He stepped back, his hand on the butt of his gun, and looked around. Tony stood behind him, Upton behind Tony. Alex took his house keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

He slid his gun out of his holster, pushed open the door and stepped inside. The house possessed the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He stepped to the side, covering the room with his weapon while Tony slid in, Upton behind him. The small table with their wedding pictures had been knocked over.

A man lay in a pool of blood in front of the hearth. Othello was on his side, blood oozing from a wound near his neck. Tess cradled the dog’s head in her lap and held a knife in the other hand.

Alex’s relief nearly took his knees out from under him. He holstered his weapon, checked the thready pulse on the man then went to Tess, his gaze searching her for injuries.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

She pointed the knife at the man. Alex took it from her and handed it to Tony.

“He’s the one who attacked me in your apartment and messed with the brakes on your truck.”

The dog whined and thumped his tail once. Fresh blood oozed from the wound and Tess cradled him closer. Othello lifted his head, then let it fall back.

Alex crouched next to the guy and studied him. “I’ll be damned.” His gaze followed the trail of blood to the guy’s upper thigh. Apparently O had bit into the leg and cut the artery.

“Who is it?” Upton asked.

“Jeffrey Abbott.” Abbott had been cocky and sure of himself and completely wrong for the department. Unfortunately, he’d passed all the psychological profile tests and physicals. It hadn’t taken long for the department to realize their mistake in hiring him and send him to Alex. He’d washed him out of the program fast.

He shook his head. Thirty years ago Abbott’s father had been one of the best detectives in the department. Jeffrey had thought riding on daddy’s coattails would get him just as far. He’d always been a little manic, a little too far on the edge. Alex had feared he would shoot someone just for the hell of it.

Tess hunched over Othello and sobbed. Othello lapped up her tears, obviously not too badly hurt and enjoying the attention.

Hands shaking, his stomach in knots, Alex drew her close.

“Shhh, Tessie, O will be all right. Probably just needs a couple stitches.”

Tony crouched down and took the afghan from the back of the couch to press it against Othello’s wounds. Othello tried to roll, but gave up the struggle and lay back.

Upton put his fingers to Abbott’s pulse. His gaze slid to Alex and he pulled away, shaking his head.

Tess wiped at her tears. “I love you, Alexandre Juran, but I can’t take much more of this.”

He chuckled, the knots in his stomach loosening. He nudged her head onto his chest. “I swear to God, Tess, after this day the two of us are going to lead very ordinary, very boring lives.”

She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Three of us.”

His fingers jerked and he stared at her, at first uncomprehending, then he pulled her closer, hugged her tighter.

He smiled into her hair and closed his eyes, sending up a prayer of thanks for second chances and new beginnings.

Epilogue

Alex strode down the wide hallway of the hospital, his grin nearly reaching from ear to ear. He and Tess had never thought this day would come. Two weeks late, but it had arrived.

He stopped and looked back. Sam was crouched down at a cart parked to the side, intently studying the wheels. At two years old, anything with wheels held his attention. Alex hoisted his son into his arms. Sam stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid his head on Alex’s shoulder.

Four-year-old Christopher chattered nonstop beside him. The three Juran men walked together down the hall, in search of Tess and the newest Juran addition.

“Want mama,” Sam said around his thumb.

“That’s where we’re going,” Alex said, patting his son’s back.

“Why a girl?” Christopher asked while trailing a hand along the wall.

“Because God decided two boys were enough and we needed a little girl.” Alex studied the numbers on the doors as they passed.

Sam popped his thumb out and stuck his tongue out, his latest trick.

“Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

He giggled.

Alex found Tess’s room and sighed. He loved his boys, but couldn’t wait for Tess to come home and take them in hand. Funny that he was the cop and couldn’t control his own children. He’d been a pushover since the day Christopher entered the world screaming and waving his tiny fists into the air—two weeks late, as well.

He pushed the door open. Tess sat in the chair, holding a tiny bundle of pink. She looked up and smiled. Sam wiggled out of Alex’s arms and shot toward his mother, his chubby arms held out. Tess reached down and swooped him up one-armed. Alex bit back a reprimand to take it easy.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms, content to watch his children and wife.

After Christopher’s birth, Alex had decided he had too much to lose to go chasing criminals across fields and into dark warehouses. He took a job as an instructor at the police academy, working nine to five with Saturdays and Sundays off.

Surprisingly, Shannon grew up after her husband’s arrest. She’d held strong and kept her family together, running her own day care. Out of necessity, she’d lost her self-centeredness. Roger had been relocated to a prison in Cleveland. No one had spoken to him in years.

Sometimes at night, with his wife curled up beside him, Alex would think about that dark night, lying on the cold pavement as the life seeped out of him. She had come to him in his dreams—dreams that had turned into reality. If not for her constant presence, her unwavering support, even when he rejected her, he feared he wouldn’t have made it through those pain-wracked days.

Sam snuggled into his mother while Christopher studied his new sister, Anna Katherine Juran.

Tess looked up and smiled at him and Alex stepped over to his newly extended family. Anna pursed her lips and stretched, her eyes tightly closed. He ran a finger over her soft cheek and she turned her head toward him. Never in this lifetime had he imagined he could be so happy. He bent down and gave his wife a kiss, silently thanking her for giving him back his life.

About the Author

After reading Black Beauty when she was ten, Sharon had two dreams—to own a horse and to write books. She still doesn’t have the horse, but she does write. Nowadays she divides her time between the everyday duties of a mom—with three busy kids, a husband, and a Labrador Retriever who occasionally makes an appearance in her stories—and writing.

To learn more about Sharon, please visit her website at www.sharoncullen.net. You can send an email to Sharon at sharon@sharoncullen.net or become a member of her Yahoo! group and join in the fun at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Sharon_Cullen/.

Look for these titles by Sharon Cullen

Now Available:

Deception

Redemption

Night Song

Running for her life…to a man who’d given up on it

Redemption

© 2008 Sharon Cullen

A Love on the Edge romance

Pregnant, alone—and with no memory of who she is—these words are the only thing Hope can hang onto as she drives through a blizzard, searching for the reclusive Callahan. And when she finds him, she’s not sure which of them is more in need of help and healing.

Haunted by the brutal murder of the woman he loved, the last thing John Callahan needs on his hands is an injured pregnant woman. But with the storm bearing down, he has no choice. Opening his home to her, though, turns out to be far from simple. Her unconditional acceptance of him, scars and all, opens windows to his soul he thought were forever sealed.

Then he discovers Hope’s true identity and realizes his past—and a powerful enemy—has come back to haunt them both. Even as he races against time to save her, John has to wonder…

Is Hope his redemption? Or his downfall?

Warning: This story contains deep emotion, edge-of-your-seat suspense, political intrigue, violence and a romance that will take your breath away.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Redemption:

The blizzard stopped later that afternoon. The phone line would take some time to repair, he’d told her, and the cell phone kept dropping his calls. They spent another lazy day in the cabin, but this time Hope didn’t feel as claustrophobic. This time she kept sliding glances at him, hoping… Hoping what? He’d touch her again? He’d reveal a crack in his façade and show a little more emotion?

She stared out the windows, mainly because the scenery changed whereas the walls stayed the same. She liked to watch the blowing wind create snowdrifts, destroy them and build them back up somewhere else. Now that the wind had stopped, the sun peeked through weak clouds and the snow shimmered like a forest of diamonds, causing her to squint against the beautiful glare. Parts of her car were buried beneath inches of snow while in other places metal poked out of the landscape, marring what she considered picture-perfect scenery.

“You want to take a look?” John stood with hands shoved deep into his jeans pocket.

Unable to help herself, her gaze slid over the length of him. Over slim hips, long legs, wide shoulders. He was lean, but well muscled. An outdoorsman compared to a bodybuilder.

She’d never seen his red gold hair combed. Thick, with a touch of curl at the ends, it was always messy, leaving him with a sexy, just-out-of-bed look. His gaze met hers, navy eyes curious but aloof. He always seemed detached, holding himself at a distance. Was it her or was he that way with everyone?

She didn’t know if it was disgust at herself for thinking of him in a way other than rescuer or sorrow that she couldn’t penetrate the barriers he’d erected that made her turn back to the window. She had no business thinking of him in that way. After all, she could possibly be married.

“Let’s go outside,” he said. “No use brooding in here when it’s beautiful out there.”

She leaned against the rough pine-board wall, a half smile tugging at her lips. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” No heat to his words, just idle curiosity. Did nothing get to this man?

“It means you’re the king of brooding.”

“Maybe I have reason to brood.”

“And I don’t?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s good for you. I should know, being the king and all.”

She stared at him for a few moments, arms crossed over the swell of her belly. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“You call this nice?” He waved a hand in the air. “Nah.”

“Yes. I call this nice. At first you didn’t want me here, did you?”

He looked away. “It wasn’t the right time,” he said.

“I’m sorry if I ruined any plans you’d made.” With a storm brewing, she wondered what kind of plans he would have had. Unless the reason he hadn’t stocked up on food was because he was leaving and had to stop to save her.

His jaw muscle ticked and he still wouldn’t look at her. Then he shrugged again and pulled his hands from his pockets. “Let’s take a look at that car of yours.”

The day may have looked glorious from the inside, but once outside, the cold knocked the breath right out of her. John had given her an old coat of his and her running shoes. He’d been right, they weren’t cheap shoes. She put them on, hoping once again for some flashback. When nothing happened, she fought the disappointment.

The snowdrifts sometimes came to her knees and she had to step high, falling behind John and using his boot prints as a guide. He dusted the car off with a gloved hand, slowly revealing an old black, rusted Corolla. The cold hinges screeched when he opened the door, echoing off the snow-laden trees and rending the air with a sound that violated the peace of the wintry day.

She crouched and looked inside the dim interior. Cracked faux-leather seats, blood on the steering wheel where she’d hit her head. But that was all there was. Nothing to indicate where she’d come from, why she’d ended up here. Disappointed once again, she straightened, rubbing her aching back.

John struggled to the back of the car and opened the trunk. A car jack fell into the snow, leaving a deep impression. “It’s not a rental,” he said. She didn’t know how he knew that, but trusted his judgment.

The sun broke through the clouds again and she squinted against the glare.

She yanked on the steering wheel and slammed on the brake. The car went into a skid. The rear end fishtailed, skating sideways. She screamed as the car sideswiped a tree, bounced off it, spun around and began sliding down a steep embankment she hadn’t seen.

Throwing her hands over her face, she screamed again as the car turned end over end.

When she focused, John was standing in front of her, with a worried expression. “What happened?”

“I remembered the crash.”

“Anything else?”

She shook her head. Why would she remember something so stupid, something that didn’t mean anything?

He must have sensed her frustration. “Don’t worry. It’s a good sign.” He glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in everything and she wondered if he was looking for danger. It seemed strange that danger could inhabit such a peaceful place.

“I’m sorry if I led Suzanne Carmichael to you.”

He swung back to her, his usually expressionless eyes holding surprise. As if he believed her but didn’t want to. “Come on, we better get you inside where it’s warm.” He turned and she followed, but this time he walked beside her, leaving enough distance so their shoulders or arms couldn’t accidentally brush but staying close. “Holly, Hanna, Hope.”

She stumbled, fell to her knees and landed on her hands. Her breath whooshed out of her.

Blood. Blood was everywhere. All over the desk, turning white paper into a splattered mess. Her gaze flew around the room, looking, searching for…

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, and rushed forward. He lay on his back on the floor. When she crouched down and grabbed his hand, his eyes opened slowly, filled with pain and regret.

“Hope.” He licked his lips and grimaced.

“Don’t talk,” she said. “Please—”

“Go to Callahan, Hope. He’ll help you. He’ll protect you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, mixed with the blood staining his shirt and turning it pink. “No. I need to call—”

He squeezed her hand but the movement lacked strength. He’d always been such a big man, so full of life, humor, love. “Go to Callahan… His address…in the rolodex…take the card… Go, Hope. Don’t let…them follow…”

He closed his eyes, his hand going slack in hers and she knew. She knew.

Slowly the snow seeped into her sweat pants, freezing her kneecaps. She stared at the snow, fully expecting to see blood. Tears raced from her eyes as they had in her vision, and an aching hole opened inside, quickly filling with grief. A soul-wrenching sadness that made her weak.

In the far reaches of her mind, she heard a voice. Someone crouched in front of her, the voice louder, insistent. Hands reached out, hesitated. She lifted her head, her vision blurred from the tears. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“You need to get inside,” the voice said. “You’ll freeze out here.”

Callahan. John Callahan. The man she’d been searching for. Not to destroy but for protection. She struggled to stand, the snow beneath her giving way, making her stumble. A far-off noise registered in her mind and she realized she was crying.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

She shook her head. It would never be okay. She didn’t know what had happened, who the person was who had died holding her hand, but he’d meant something to her. Had been special.

They managed to stumble back to the house. Hot air hit her face when John opened the door, making her nauseated. She stood like a child while he stripped off her mittens, pulled off her coat and hat and scarf, then led her to the couch and the warmth of the fire.

He perched on the coffee table in front of her, elbows on his knees, blue eyes boring into hers. “Tell me what happened.”

She focused through the pain, squeezing her hands together until her nails bit into her palms. “I’m Hope,” she said.

He reared back. “What?”

“My name. It’s Hope.”

As their passion catches fire, so does a killer’s vengeance…

Love Me Tomorrow

© 2009 Dee Tenorio

A Rancho del Cielo romance

In the sleepy town of Rancho del Cielo, a killer arsonist is targeting firefighter Josh Whittaker’s friends, family and most importantly…the love of his life.

As fires encircle Josh’s life, his troubles mount. His best friend is dead. The woman he’d give his life to protect is pregnant. Secrets he’s held on to for years are spilling free. If he could just find his equilibrium, he could pull himself together. What he doesn’t know is that someone is dead-set on tearing everything he knows apart.

Losing a lifelong friend has finally awakened Miranda McTiernan to how much of her life has been spent in limbo. Now that she’s pregnant, a dream she never believed could happen, the reality isn’t quite what she’d expected. Instead of being happy and secure, she’s scared and hiding a secret that could ruin the future she’s worked so hard to create.

Assuming she has a future…

Warning: Includes a heroine out to get her man, a hero determined to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, and hormones gone wild. Reading with cookies recommended.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Love Me Tomorrow:

She dripped water, her eyelashes carrying droplets and her mouth curved into a smile trained directly on him. Josh had a hard time pulling in a deep enough breath. Until some part of his brain not rendered stupid noticed something out of sync. It wasn’t her usual smile, the one that brightened her whole face and whole parts of his life. No, this one was confident. Pleased. Self-satisfied. Son of a bitch.

“Hey, Josh. I needed a swim, hope you don’t mind.”

Hairs on the back of his neck rose and tingled at the husky tone of her voice. Careful. Don’t let her know you’re on to her—whatever it was she was doing. Thankfully for his blood-deprived mind, it wasn’t hard to guess what that might be. “Nope. My casa is your casa, right?”

Miranda’s smile widened and she sauntered out to the lawn chair beneath the large patio umbrella. She lay below its shade, hiding from the direct beams of the sun, even though it was sinking behind the hills. She had to. Everyone in town knew she burned like a witch in Salem under direct sunlight. Anyone with a brain would know cream-colored skin like hers didn’t need sun anyway.

But he wasn’t supposed to have a brain right now.

So he watched her brush off all the excess water. Her fingers almost seemed to be caressing her own skin, over her forearms up to her shoulders, down her curved neck. He almost forgot how important breathing was when she ran her fingers over the slope of her half-exposed breast.

“Can you bring me a beer?”

She hated beer and he knew it, but that didn’t register right away.

By the time it did, he’d already turned back into the kitchen and grabbed two from the fridge. He almost said something right then, but she turned to him with a diabetes-inducing smile. The little brat thought she had him exactly where she wanted, didn’t she?

“Josh?” She pulled a small bottle of lotion from her tiny terrycloth robe and started applying it to her arms and chest.

He watched, unable to decide which of them to be more disgusted with. Her for thinking he’d fall for this stupid plan to seduce him or himself for being dumb enough to almost prove her right. At her humming, he shook his head and sighed. She was moving so damn slow, the sun would be down before she ever got it applied everywhere it needed to be. “I haven’t seen that suit yet. Is it new?” he asked, handing her the beer, purposely keeping the entranced puppy look on his face. When her fingertips slid between her breasts, it took considerably less effort to do.

“Yup. It showed the most skin. It’s not very me, but I need an allover tan.”

He frowned, accidentally losing his stunned-stupid gaze. “What for?”

“Because men like tans. You turned me down. Now I have to attract someone else to be a father. I figure it’ll help.”

He screwed his brows together in consternation. “I thought you wanted the best family you knew for your baby.” Hadn’t she mentioned something about that when she was prattling about sperm donors? His eyes followed her oiled hands across her skin without his permission. How much lotion did two breasts really need?

Finally, she had mercy and moved on. The problem was that she reached around her ribs one side at a time, her inner elbows pushing the outer sides of her breasts inward so that the shining flesh pressed together and lifted upward and his brain began to throb. She arched her back and ran one palm down her smooth belly in a way that had his throat closing up. God help him if those searching fingers were going where he thought they were.

Instead, just as she touched the edge of that skimpy bikini line, she lowered her hips and strangely, his lungs deflated as if he’d been holding his breath.

“I did, but your family isn’t available.” She actually stopped to blink over at him with a saccharine grin. “Truth is, I don’t have to be so picky. We live in RDC. I’ve known just about every man here all my life. I know everyone’s family. There’s plenty of men to pick from.”

His breath stopped moving for entirely new reasons. She’d better not be thinking what he thought she was thinking. “You don’t really believe you can just talk someone into fathering a child for you?”

She gave a spurt of disbelief. “Are you kidding? No one is going to volunteer for that. Not with you constantly browbeating anyone who looks at me.”

He almost let himself sigh, relieved.

“So I’ve decided to become promiscuous. If I’m easy enough, no one will think about you at all.” She had the audacity to wink.

Do not choke.

“You’ve gotta admit, it’s the one thing I haven’t tried. Even you can’t beat up every man in town.”

Do. Not. Choke. Her.

He scratched the side of his head so hard it was likely bleeding. “Aren’t you overestimating here? I mean, not that you couldn’t get their attention, but there aren’t many available men just wandering around RDC, waiting for a promiscuous woman to fall into their laps.”

She stared at him incredulously, but he continued calculating which men in their tiny little town she had to choose from. Thankfully for his escalating blood pressure, pickings were slim. He knew most men close to their ages were married or just damn ugly. Except for the guys at the—

“What about the guys at the firehouse? I’m sure a few of them wouldn’t mind a tumble. What about Andy Raymond? He likes me. He probably wouldn’t turn me down if we went out on a date.”

Of course Andy wouldn’t. The kid left a trail of drool behind her whenever she was in the station. Josh’s brain skidded to a halt as he tried to think of a good way to deter her.

“No.” It was all that came to mind.

She turned innocent eyes on him. Some feat, considering that Miranda was the least innocent person he knew.

“Why not?”

“Why not? Why not?” Shit. Back to square one. “The gossips,” he finally dragged out of his ass.

“You think your baby would be able to live down your reputation after something like that?” Heartened by her blank blink, he picked up steam. “You know what this place is like. People are going to find out no matter what you do.” Her mouth quirked to one side. “I can afford to move.”

Of course she could. Her illustrated children’s books had been doing well for more than a few years. She could afford whatever she damn well wanted. But the thought of her leaving left him even colder than the prospect of her traipsing around with any guy she could find. He searched for another tack.

“You can’t leave your house. You love that house.” It was falling down around her ears because she refused to update it to safety code, but she loved it.

“I don’t have to sell it. I’ll figure that part out later.”

She continued rubbing the coconut-smelling concoction over her legs, lifting them straight up, one at a time, all but purring at the touch of her own hands. Josh scrambled for something else to think about other than her apparent flexibility.

“Well, it can’t be Andy, he’s only twenty-two.”

“Young is good.” She smiled lasciviously, eyes closed while she sighed, dropping her forehead to press against her shin, wearing a slow grin he could only call sinful. “I like a guy with…energy.”

He couldn’t contain a convulsion.

“Besides, it’s not as if I’m limited to just Rancho del Cielo. We’re not exactly in quarantine here. There’s available men in San Diego. Even Orange County if I want. I could sleep with any number of them.”

“You can’t go around having unprotected sex with people until you get pregnant! It’s stupid and it’s dangerous!” Trump card. It was one thing to let Miranda get away with manipulating him. It was something else to let her get into that kind of trouble with other men. She’d behave now, he was sure.

Except she looked like he’d just stolen her bunny. She lowered her leg and any trace of a smile melted away. Suddenly, she seemed so uncertain and almost afraid, he wanted to scoop her into his arms and just hold her for a while.

Which would lead in all the wrong directions. He had to make sure she understood, and comforting her wasn’t the way to go about it.

“I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “It’s not the same world out there as it was when we were kids. It wouldn’t be safe.” She took a moment to consider her options. “I guess that brings me back to young Andy.”

“Will you stop calling him young?” Josh rubbed his bleary eyes, willing away the idea she’d conjured of her and Young Andy Raymond. Damn, now she had him doing it.

“Who? You mean Young Andy? Young, young, young Andy Raymond.” She was too damn giddy about ruffling his feathers.

“Youth isn’t everything when it comes to sex. In fact, it’s usually detrimental.” He leaned toward her. “Experience goes a long way.”

“That’s a good point. Maybe not Andy. I mean, if I’m going to sleep around, I might as well enjoy it.”

Oh, for the love of God. “You’re not sleeping with anyone!”

“I don’t remember asking permission, Josh.” She rose to her feet, putting her hands on her bare hips in a few lithe movements he shouldn’t have noticed. Unnerved at facing her waist level, he stood too. Unfortunately, for him, the space between the two lawn chairs they’d been sitting on didn’t allow for two adults to stand. He ended up wrapping an arm around her still-wet form to steady them both, and she pressed flush against him. The mixed smell of coconut lotion and Miranda, tempered by chlorine and wide green eyes blinking in surprise, dizzied his senses.

Or maybe it was just feeling her again, his body automatically taking her weight as if it still remembered the one time he’d been allowed. The time he’d been trying for years to forget. Now it was impossible to ignore the electricity he’d only ever felt with her. The air around them crackled almost audibly. His arm tightened on her at about the same time that she rose on her tiptoes and tentatively pressed her lips to his.

He needs their energy. Their essence. Their very lives…

Black Aura

© 2008 Jaycee Clark

If anyone needs a vacation, it’s Lake Johnson. After her psychic abilities failed her—almost costing a friend’s life—she hopes a little time away in Taos, New Mexico will ease the self-doubt haunting her. Perhaps what she needs is the distraction of sexy gallery owner Maxamillan Gray.

Women look great on canvas, Max has learned, but in real life they’re a pain. Although the mysterious Lake definitely gets under his skin, he’s wary after having been betrayed one too many times before.

As Max and Lake cautiously explore their attraction for each other, Lake becomes aware that Max’s edgy, complex daughter has been targeted by a building malevolence. The problem—getting Max to believe her. And convincing herself she can trust her own instincts.

If she can’t do either, it’s only a matter of time before a soulless madman steals Max’s daughter away—and another gifted young woman dies.

Warning! This work depicts a merciless villain, a sexy hero who will do anything to protect the ones he loves, and an eccentric heroine who the hero really wants to paint…preferably naked. Contains sex, graphic language and violence.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Black Aura:

Max broke eye contact and glanced at their coffees sitting between them. “This has been fun, but I’m hungry. You want to go eat?”

That was such a loaded question, but she let it go. The twinkle in his eyes said he heard her thoughts.

“You like spice?” he asked, leaning even closer towards her.

Lake’s gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips. What would they feel like on her? She’d bet he knew how to use his mouth. “I uh…” She frowned. “Spice? As in ‘and everything nice’?”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Yeah, same here.”

That corner of his mouth edged sexily up again. “As in hot. Food.”

“Food.” Food.

His flash of teeth made her want to bite him.

She sat back, quickly. What the hell was wrong with her? For months she’d been celibate. Granted she’d thought about…okay, maybe fantasized once or twice about Max. But this? This was fast. This was fast and furious and she wondered, what the hell. Had she learned nothing?

“What?” he asked.

It wasn’t fair to paint him with the black brush and poisoned paint that her last fling had left her with. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, centered on herself and tried to…feel. She missed feeling, knowing what was what, not only around her, but within herself.

To hell with it.

She opened her eyes and focused on Max. “Nothing. Spicy food is fine.”

His narrowed eyes watched her. Did the man miss anything, because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

As they stood, he opened his wallet. She put her hand on his arm. “I sort of roped you into this.”

The straight-on stare stopped her even before his words. “I don’t let women pay. Period. You have a problem with that?”

Men were so damned touchy. If she said no, she sounded like she wanted a sugar daddy and if she said yes, she sounded ungrateful. She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

They headed for the door, his hand again on the base of her spine. Not just to pull her chair out, but to guide her around the other tables through the dimly lit coffee shop to the door. Outside, on the sidewalk, the chilled evening air danced over her and she shivered.

Max looked up and down the street. “We could go to Benita’s. Great New Mexican food.”

She grinned. “I love New Mexican food, the subtle flavors, spicy but not red chili spicy, ya know?”

“Yes, I know.” He frowned and looked at his watch. “I should have made reservations.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s spur of the moment.”

“Fulfilled hope is a better term.”

“Ah.” She liked this. This excitement mixed with anxiety. “Let’s walk.” She held her hand out to him and he took it after only a moment’s pause, his warm and comforting.

“It’s cold tonight.”

“Snow’s coming back,” she agreed.

Her heels clicked along the sidewalk, and they moved to the side to let a group of college students by, or maybe just a group of young friends.

As they made the three-block walk to Benita’s, neither said very much. However, it wasn’t the normal awkward silence of many first dates, it was more the comfortable silence of friends.

They neared the restaurant and she could see they wouldn’t be eating, at least sitting down to dine, anytime soon.

“Well, damn,” Max muttered.

“Carry-out?” she asked, and then realized that might be read as—

“Works for me.”

Stop worrying, for crying out loud, she thought. He was nice, she’d watched him for months. His aura was a calming blue, with the occasional color burst. But that was normal, at least to her, for very talented people. It was like an actual light bulb going off when they had ideas. She wondered what his aura was like while he painted. Or what it was like when he made love… And where did that thought come from? She concentrated on the menu he handed her.

They ordered their food, sipped tangy margaritas and munched through two baskets of salty chips and salsa while they waited.

Loaded with three carryout bags, she laughed as they made their way back.

When they again stood in front of the coffee shop, he jerked his head towards the gallery. “Want to come to my place to eat?”

“Because it’s so much closer to the paints?” she asked.

“I said nothing about paints.” He blinked. “Sorry. You’re just a great subject.”

“At least I’m a great something.” Okay, so hot thoughts must be put on hold since the man lived with his daughter.

Probably a good thing to go slow. Slow allowed one time to think. And thinking was good. Perhaps if she’d done more thinking in her life previously, then she might not be so torn up about what to do in her life now.

For a woman who had always just followed where fate led her, she’d questioned more in the last several months than in her entire life. Thank you, fate. And second-guessing was exhausting. Fate, roads, belief.

Shaking off the thoughts that never left her completely alone, she focused back on the sexy man beside her. Instead of entering the front door of the gallery, he walked around to the side to an arched adobe gateway with a tall wooden turquoise gate. The latch clicked as he opened and held the gate for her. She strode over the flagstones laid in the ground. Here at the back, a staircase led up to the second floor.

“I bet this courtyard is beautiful later in the year,” she said softly.

He grinned. “I admit, I like gardening and yes, it is. Maybe you’ll see it then.”

She licked her lips. Would she still be here? “Maybe I will.”

The door at the top of the steps opened and Alyssa barreled down the stairs, her black heeled boots clunking with the ease and grace of youth. “Later, Dad. Don’t wait up.”

“Alyssa.” He juggled and almost dropped one of the bags until Lake reached out and caught it. “Where are you going?”

“Dad, I’m fine. I’ll be in later. Really later, so have fun. I’ve got my cell phone, feel free to call, just not too many times. I’ll be with Mark.”

“Mark?” He frowned. “But Thad, aren’t you guys dating?”

Alyssa laughed. “Mark and I are talking about school, Dad. Jeez, it’s not a date. And even if it was, Thad’s…” She shrugged and walked backward towards the gate. “We’re just, you know, casual.”

“Casual,” Max said.

The whirling burst of energy all but danced out the gate. The latch clicked into the silence. Cars drove by on the street and both adults were left standing holding bags.

“Ahhh,” Lake said into the baffled silence. “To be young and carefree again.”

“She’s never carefree.” He drew in a deep breath. “And what the hell does casual mean?”

“Do you really want to know?”

His eyes held no humor as they locked on hers.

“I think it means, mind your own business.”

He scoffed.

“Be thankful for times like these.” She looked at the gate with thoughts of youth and fun in her head and just like that, darkness swept in.

Black fog. Alyssa walking, hurrying, thinking…

Broken images.

Fear.

Evil…

The vision wasn’t clear…

Darkness trailed through the air, tentacles swirling closer and closer to Alyssa…

The images broke, scattered.

Eyes in containers.

From before.

Lake jerked and almost dropped the bag.

“Hey, you okay?” Max asked her in his deep voice.

Lake could only stand there like an idiot staring at the gate. The gate Alyssa had gone through, walked through, seemed to mock her.

Darkness still hung in the air. She shivered.

What did it mean? Did it mean anything?

“Watch out for her,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Alyssa, watch her.” She licked her lips. “Nothing, sorry, just…nothing.”

He frowned and said, “Come on, you’re cold. Let’s get inside and eat.”

The truth was, she was no longer hungry. For months she’d had shields in place, even as she had wanted to reconnect with herself. Yet when she lowered her shields, rarely could she…could she…feel or sense to any degree she used to. But not this time. This time, the feelings had all but blindsided her.

What did they mean?

She had been of no help before, not when she needed to be, not when it really mattered, when it really counted.

And only once had she had this feeling before, when Cora had almost died.

This darkness, an overcast sky, shrouded her senses. Was this real? Was she projecting feelings from the nightmare before?

“Hey?” His hand on her shoulder pulled her back. “Lake? You okay?”

She looked at him, then back at the gate. The feeling deep in her gut was the same—she had to do something. Maybe this was fate giving her a second chance to help, to stop the darkness she’d missed before.

She tried to smile and walked up the stairs.

Now she just had to figure out how to stop the darkness.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

It’s all about the story…

Action/Adventure

Fantasy

Historical

Horror

Mainstream

Mystery/Suspense

Non-Fiction

Paranormal

Red Hots!

Romance

Science Fiction

Western

Young Adult

www.samhainpublishing.com