Veiled Intentions

Delores Fossen

Toronto • New York • London • Amsterdam • Paris • Sydney • Hamburg • Stockholm • Athens • Tokyo • Milan • Madrid • Prague • Warsaw • Budapest • Auckland

For Don and Orloene

"I think you'll regret doing this."

"Oh yeah?" Katelyn caught his shoulder and turned him around. She positioned his hands, palms flat, against the wall and patted him down. "I doubt it, since it might just save a few people from dying."

The man was certainly solid. And built. Her fingers skimmed over lots of hard, sinewy muscles. Odd. She'd never noticed anything like that before when frisking a subject. Maybe it had something to do with his memorable aftershave.

She located his wallet. Except she realized it wasn't a wallet. She flipped open the too-familiar case and read the name aloud. "Joseph Rico."

"Sergeant Joe Rico," he clarified, and turned back around to face her. "Homicide. SAPD."

Katelyn's breath landed somewhere around that knot in her stomach.

Sergeant Rico moved her out of the doorway and turned to leave, delivering the rest of his news from over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, I'm your new boss."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it's easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn't have to look too far for inspiration.

Books by Delores Fossen

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

648—HIS CHILD

679—A MAN WORTH REMEMBERING

704—MARCHING ORDERS

727—CONFISCATED CONCEPTION

788—VEILED INTENTIONS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Sergeant Joe Rico—One of San Antonio PD's finest, he's put in charge of collaring a high-profile sniper who goes after newlyweds. What Joe hadn't counted on was the intense attraction to his new partner and undercover fiancée, Katelyn.

Detective Katelyn O'Malley—She's trying to earn a name for herself in the department, so the last thing she's looking for is a personal involvement with Joe. But it's hard to push aside the hot Latino cop when their undercover assignment forces them together night and day.

Addison Merrick—The owner of the Perfect Match Agency. Is he murdering his own clients to lash out at his fiancée for ending their engagement?

Fiona Shipley—A frequent client at Perfect Match. She was rebuffed by the grooms who became the sniper's targets.

Bruce Donovan—Perfect Match employee with a history of violent behavior. He claims he's trying to help catch the sniper, but maybe he's just trying to cover his own tracks.

Dr. Allen Kent—The ex-husband of the first murdered bride. Is his connection to Perfect Match simply a coincidence, or is he really the sniper?

Lieutenant Brayden O'Malley—Head of Homicide and Katelyn's brother. He wants his sister to succeed but fears she's in over her head with both the sniper case and Joe.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

San Antonio, Texas

Detective Katelyn O'Malley stood in the entrance hall and studied each of the wedding guests as they trickled into Sacred Heart church.

If she got lucky, very lucky, maybe no one would be murdered today.

Too bad there was the little annoying buzz in the back of her head that said all hell might break loose before the bride and groom managed to say I do.

While she directed the guests to sign the registry—a duty she'd created for her cover—Katelyn continued her surveillance. She mentally dismissed two giggling teenage girls whose dresses were so skintight that they couldn't have been carrying concealed weapons, or much of anything else for that matter. Besides, if her profile of the killer was right, she wasn't looking for a female but a male in his late twenties or early thirties.

A male who'd already killed two people.

"See anything?" she heard her brother, Garrett, ask through her earpiece. He was posted outside the church. Watching their backs. And sides. It'd taken some effort, but she'd managed to get photos of thirty-nine of the forty-one guests. Not bad odds. If someone uninvited showed up, Garrett would know and could relay it to her.

Katelyn kept her voice at a whisper and spoke into the tiny communicator tucked in the neckline of her dress. "So far, so good. How about you?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing other than being hit on by one of the bridesmaids."

That wasn't anything new. Lots of women hit on her brother. "Was she armed?" Katelyn was only partly sarcastic.

"No. Unfortunately, I have firsthand knowledge that she wasn't, since she tripped over her lavender taffeta gown and fell right in my arms." He paused. "I guess this is a good time to remind you that your lieutenant will have our butts if he finds out about this little unauthorized stakeout you arranged?"

"He won't find out," Katelyn said with certainty she didn't feel. The lieutenant in question was her oldest brother and head of Homicide. And he would find out. No doubt about it. Still, if she could stop someone from being killed today, she'd gladly take the flak over her yet-to-be-an-official-part of this investigation.

"Okay, can I add then that this is probably a waste of a really great Saturday afternoon?" Garrett continued. "You're assuming the other two murders weren't just random acts of violence—"

"They weren't."

He grumbled something that Katelyn didn't want to distinguish. "All right, but even if last week's shooting was the start of some grand serial career, it's the first frickin' weekend in June. There are dozens of weddings going on in San Antonio today. Hear that, sis? Dozens. If our gunman's really a wacko targeting brides and grooms, he could be at any one of them."

It was true, and they'd already rehashed this subject too many times. Yes, this was a long shot. Yes, this wasn't exactly standard operating procedure. And yes, they could get reprimanded for this. But after studying all the angles, Katelyn knew in her gut that this particular ceremony was their best bet for saving lives. In her mind, this was one of those times where the means would justify the ends.

An odd sound caught her attention. A scrape of metal. Katelyn whipped her gaze to the other side of the narthex where the lanky, twenty-something photographer was adjusting his equipment. He was definitely on her list of people to be concerned about, and she made a mental note to get a look in his bag. Perhaps she'd try the bridesmaid's flirting/falling in his arms approach. She was certainly dressed for the part in the short, snug emerald silk outfit that she'd dragged from the back of her closet.

The way back.

Katelyn had added some too-high heels, heavy concealing makeup and a blond wig to go along with it. All in all, it was a very uncomfortable but hopefully convincing disguise that could work for her if needed.

"Hold on. We might have something," Garrett informed her. "If there's something to have in all this. A male. Brown hair, part Latino or maybe Italian. He doesn't match any of the photos. You'll have visual in under a minute because he's headed right for the church."

"Okay. I'll handle it. You stay put in case this one's a decoy."

"Be careful," he warned.

Oh, she definitely would.

More guests strolled in, bringing with them the June heat and humidity from the nearby San Antonio River. A pregnant woman with a toddler. A middle-aged couple holding hands. All innocent, she was sure of that.

And then Katelyn saw him.

That buzz in her head turned to a full roar.

He stepped into the entry. Well, he didn't step, exactly. He stalked in, smooth and slow, like a jungle cat sizing up his hunting area.

Now here was the male who fit her profile to a proverbial tee. Mahogany brown hair, not too long, not too short. Olive skin. Six-one. About a hundred and seventy-five pounds. No distinguishing marks and definitely no pretty boy. He had badass written all over him.

He wore a midnight-blue suit. Nondescript. Ditto for the crisp white dress shirt and his precisely knotted silver-gray tie. But that's where the nondescript and ditto parts ended. Katelyn had been a cop for nearly eight years and had learned to recognize something lethal when she saw it.

This guy was lethal.

His gaze swept around the room, and like his entrance, it was smooth. He made eye contact with her. Just a split second. Then, he looked away to continue his surveillance. And there was no doubt in her mind that this was surveillance for him. He dismissed the teenagers as quickly as Katelyn had, but his attention lingered a bit on the photographer, before it came back to her.

Was he suspicious?

You bet he was.

His instincts weren't lacking in any area. That meant she had to strike first.

Pulling in a hard breath to steady herself, she eased from behind the narrow table when he walked closer. She wanted a better look, among other things, and she got a dose of those other things right away. She caught the scent of his aftershave. Something manly and musky. It was better suited for a long night of sex than a wedding.

Or maybe that was just her imagination working overtime.

Whoa.

An imagination with seriously bad timing.

She brushed her arm against his, purposely, and the soft contact garnered her another glance. Not a dismissive one either. There was interest in the depths of those icy blue eyes. Too bad she couldn't quite make out exactly what kind of interest it was, but it was obviously time for that flirting ruse to see if she had to reel in a killer.

Katelyn smiled, making sure she let her nerves show a little. She didn't have to fake that part. She was well past being nervous. But then, this was a situation where lack of nerves would mean she was a complete idiot. Someone, maybe this man, had already killed two people. Nerves were part of the job description.

"I'm Kate." She offered her hand in greeting, and he shook it. Eventually. "Would you like to sign the guest registry?"

"No, thanks."

"Oh, okay." A roadblock. Not too surprising. Katelyn tried a different angle. "It's a keepsake for the bride and groom so they'll know who attended. Maybe I could sign it for you if you'll give me your name?"

He looked at the book, then her again. "Joe."

She almost pushed for a last name but decided it could wait. "This'll sound like a really bad line, but don't I know you from somewhere?" Katelyn asked, letting her voice purr. "You look familiar."

He spared her another glance. "No. I think I'd remember you."

There was a touch of Texas in his voice. An effortless, sliding drawl that matched his attitude.

And his aftershave.

Maybe the accent meant he was local. If so, it fit another piece of her unofficial profile.

Katelyn looked around to make sure they hadn't garnered anyone's attention. They hadn't. The guests were still ambling into the sanctuary, which was exactly where she needed them to amble. She didn't want an audience, or any bystanders, when she confronted him.

"Say, I'm a little light-headed," she lied. "I have this blood sugar thing. Nothing serious. Just makes me a little woozy. I wondered if I could just catch on to your arm before I fall flat on my face?"

He studied her. A long, snail-crawling moment. And then, as if preparing for a root canal, he offered her his arm. She took hold of it before he changed his mind, and she got a peek inside his jacket.

He was packing a .357 Magnum in a shoulder holster.

Katelyn had anticipated a weapon, of course. However, reality caused her heart to slam against her chest. She pushed that slamming aside and got to work. It was time to move on to the next step of her plan. She needed to get him away from the guests so she could rid him of that weapon and ask a few questions.

She stumbled, just enough to make him grip her arm. That stumble was a real leap of faith on her part, since she wasn't overly confident that he would even catch her. Thankfully, there was at least one gentlemanly bone in his body, because he cooperated. After he had a good hold on her, she led him a few steps away into the narrow hallway just off the narthex.

"I can't believe this is happening," she mumbled, leaning against him so he wouldn't easily be able to reach for his gun. "Not the best time to get one of my dizzy spells. The ceremony's about to start, and I doubt you want to miss that."

She shoved him into the small vacant room that she'd already checked out. Katelyn didn't waste any time, figuring she would rather be embarrassed from a case of mistaken identity than to have a dead bride and groom.

Blocking the doorway so he couldn't leave, she drew her weapon from her holster, hidden beneath her silky jacket. "Here's how we're going to do this," she instructed. "Keep your hands where I can see them and explain to me why you brought a .357 Magnum to a wedding."

He lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug. "I carry my gun everywhere. I guess you do the same?"

If he was scared, or even remotely concerned, he certainly wasn't showing it. Too bad Katelyn couldn't say the same. Her throat was suddenly dry as dust, and she kept a firm grip on her gun to keep her hand from shaking.

"Yes, but for me, it's part of the job. I'm Detective Katelyn O'Malley, S.A.P.D., and this is what we call a stop and frisk."

He paused. Said one word of profanity under his breath. One rather crude four-letter word. He tipped his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention.

Or something.

"Know what I think?" he asked.

"Not particularly. But I want you to remove your weapon slowly and carefully from its holster and place it on the floor. Notice those operative words. Slowly. Carefully. Floor. Those are major conditions here, and you're going to do that while using only two fingers. Make any sudden moves, and I'll take you down the hard way."

He looked her straight in the eye. "That wasn't what I was thinking." He disarmed himself, just as she'd instructed. Slowly, carefully, and he placed his gun on the floor directly between them.

"Oh, yeah?" Katelyn caught his shoulder and turned him around. She positioned his hands, palms flat, against the wall, and kneed his legs apart. "What exactly were you thinking?" she asked, patting him down.

The man was certainly solid. And built. Her fingers skimmed over lots of hard, sinewy muscles. Odd. She'd never noticed anything like that before when frisking a suspect. Maybe it had something to do with his memorable aftershave.

"I'm thinking you'll regret doing this," he let her know.

"I doubt it, especially since it might just save a few people from dying."

She located his wallet in his jacket pocket. Except when she got a good look at it, she realized it wasn't a wallet. And that caused her stomach to tighten into a hard knot. It also caused Katelyn to use a little profanity of her own. She flipped open the too-familiar leather case and read the name aloud.

"Joseph Rico."

"Sergeant Joe Rico," he clarified. And with that announcement, he turned back around to face her. "Homicide. S.A.P.D."

Her breath landed somewhere around that knot in her stomach.

Katelyn shook her head. The badge had to be a fake. Except it wasn't. She scratched it with her thumbnail, or rather tried to. It was as real as the one in her purse. Still, there was something off here. "Impossible. I work Homicide, and I've never seen you before in my life."

"Because I was just assigned there." He enunciated each word as if she were mentally deficient. "By the chief of police."

Judas Priest. That bit of information cleared the buzz in her head. Katelyn wasn't sure exactly where this was leading, but she knew for a fact that she wouldn't like its final destination.

Joe Rico calmly picked up his gun from the floor and reholstered it. Somehow, he managed to look cocky even while doing that little chore. No hurried moves. No overt display of emotion.

"Well, Detective Katelyn O'Malley, I'd say we have a problem. A problem with you being here because this isn't your case. Why am I so certain of that?" He aimed his thumb at his chest. "Because it's mine."

Katelyn hadn't thought this moment could possibly get more frustrating—or embarrassing—but she was obviously wrong.

"Yours?" she demanded.

"Mine." Sergeant Rico muscled her out of the doorway and turned to leave, delivering the rest of his news from over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way, I'm your new boss."

Chapter Two

Well, it wasn't exactly the smooth start Joe wanted for this particular investigation. While undercover, he'd been made quite easily—by his subordinate, no less. And then that subordinate had frisked him.

He was sorry to say the frisking had been more enjoyable than it should have been.

Far more.

"The chief assigned you this case?" Katelyn O'Malley asked, following him.

Since he'd already made that perfectly clear, and since he detected some resentment in her voice, he surmised that she'd heard him correctly but wasn't in agreement with the chief's decision.

Joe stopped at the edge of the narthex and pressed the transmitter of the communication device hidden in his jacket. "Did anyone come in the church in the past three minutes?" he asked the backup officer who was positioned in an office building directly across the street.

"No."

So they'd been lucky. Katelyn O'Malley's stunt hadn't allowed the sniper to walk in unchallenged. Of course, if the killer followed the method of operation of the last shooting, he or she wouldn't burst into the church until the I do's had been said. There'd be a frenzied battery of gunfire from a ski-mask-wearing shooter who wouldn't actually enter the sanctuary but would stay in the narthex and then make an easy getaway. Just the way it'd happened to the victims, Gail Prescott and Raul Hernandez.

Joe clicked off the transmitter and glanced back at Detective O'Malley.

She was staring at him as if he were a member of the fungus family.

Too bad he couldn't say the same for her.

She was attractive. Damn attractive. Not like a beauty queen either, but in a strong, athletic, kick-butt sort of way. The girl-next-door meets Buffy type.

The type he found attractive.

And no amount of denial would make his body think otherwise. Fortunately, the parts of his body that noticed her attractive looks didn't have any say in the decisions he made.

"There's been some kind of mistake." She jammed her gun back into her holster. "After the initial investigator dropped out because of family illness, I requested this case, and I was told my request was under consideration."

"It was," Joe calmly assured her. "But the considering part is finished now, and I'm the lead investigator. End of discussion."

There was nothing calm about her response. He saw some fire dance through ultraclear, cool green eyes. He'd obviously stepped on her toes, toes encased very nicely in a pair of sex-against-the-wall stilettos.

Something else about her that he truly wished he hadn't noticed.

Joe quickly pushed that, her physical attributes and the remnants of the frisking aside. What the devil was wrong with him anyway? Even if he'd been looking to spice up his love life, he darn sure wouldn't have been looking in Katelyn O'Malley's direction.

"I knew the woman who was killed last week," she added.

As if that would help her cause.

"Gail Prescott," Joe supplied. "You went to high school with her and you've maintained occasional contact with her and her family. You probably would have attended her wedding even if you hadn't been on a stakeout. Your relationship with the victim, however, doesn't give you priority in this investigation. In fact, it does just the opposite. I don't care to work with an officer who comes into a case with a personal chip on his or her shoulder."

She unclenched her teeth before she could speak. "There's no personal chip, Sergeant. Just my desire to bring a killer to justice."

"Good. Then, we're in agreement. I have that same desire, but that doesn't mean I'll allow you to be part of this case." But the moment the words left his mouth, Joe remembered a vital point that had come to mind. "By the way, why'd you stake out this particular church?"

The fire in those baby greens dwindled a fraction. She pulled back her shoulders as if preparing to defend herself and met him eye-to-eye. In those heels, she could almost manage it, even though he was just over six feet tall.

"Because the bride and groom met through the Perfect Match Agency, the same matchmaking service that Gail and her fiancé used," she explained. "They both also had the same florist. I thought there might be a connection so I contacted the minister here at the church—"

"You told him about this possible connection?"

"No. Of course not. There's only been one shooting, and I have no proof that there'll be another one. I didn't want the couple to bring a possible lawsuit against the department for disrupting their wedding, so I simply reminded the minister of some recent robberies in the area and offered my services as a temporary security guard. He agreed, and we came up with the idea of using the guest registry as my cover."

So she'd done her homework. He liked that. But this wasn't a time when Brownie points counted. "The florist and Perfect Match could be a coincidence. There are other possible angles."

"Yes. Gail's fiancé was Hispanic, so the shooting could have been racially motivated. Or maybe their deaths are linked to some other aspect of their personal lives." She paused. "But I don't believe that, and apparently neither do you, or you wouldn't have come here today."

Touché.

Joe fought back an urge to smile. Under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed this verbal sparring, but these weren't different circumstances. Katelyn O'Malley would be in his way, because despite her denial, this case was personal for her. In his experience, when it got personal, people made mistakes.

That wasn't going to happen on his watch.

"I came here to follow up on one particular theory. One theory of several," he assured her.

Joe checked the entryway. No new guests, and the others had already moved into the church. He could hear the organ start to play, an indication that the bride and groom were about to make their entrance.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be their last.

Katelyn huffed. "I know those theories as well as you—"

"Caucasian male is approaching the church," the backup officer said through Joe's communicator.

That, and the sound of hurried footsteps, interrupted whatever else she was about to say. Frantic footsteps that sent them both reaching for their guns. In the same motion, she stepped into the hallway beside him. However, the threat for which they'd braced themselves didn't materialize.

Judging from the strong family resemblance, the man who came into sight was Sergeant Garrett O'Malley. His gun was already drawn, but he held it discreetly by his side so it wouldn't easily be seen.

"Katelyn, what's going on?" her brother demanded.

Because Joe was standing arm-to-arm with her, he felt her muscles relax.

"False alarm," she let him know. Once again, she reholstered her gun. "This is Sergeant Joe Rico. Homicide. This is my brother, Sergeant Garrett O'Malley, Special Investigations."

Unlike Katelyn, Garrett didn't appear to relax. Just the opposite. It was obvious he had issues, and Joe didn't have to guess who or what those issues were.

"Rico," Garrett repeated in the same tone that he no doubt reserved for profanity. "According to the rumor mill, the chief sent you in to investigate our brother, Brayden. And possibly Katelyn and me, too."

"The chief did what?" Katelyn asked. Mouth gaping, she stepped in front of Joe and pinned her gaze to his.

This obviously wasn't the way to win friends and influence people. But that didn't matter. He had a job to do, and he'd do it, with or without the O'Malleys' approval.

"Since it appears you can answer your sister's questions," Joe said to Garrett, "I'll leave you to it and see what's happening in the church. I'd prefer that people didn't die while we're standing around chitchatting."

It was a good exit line. The only thing missing was, well, the good exit. Katelyn didn't get out of his way so he could leave, and the hallway was too narrow to go around her. He really didn't want to play bump and grind just so he could get past her.

Really.

Even if there were various parts of him that thought it might be fun.

Her hands went to her hips. "I don't know what your agenda is—"

"To do my job," Joe insisted.

That earned him a scowl. "My brothers are good cops. Don't judge either of them by the fact that I came here today. This undercover investigation was my idea and mine alone."

Since it was clear this argument wouldn't be resolved in the next couple of minutes, Joe put his gun back into his holster, firmly caught her shoulders and moved her out of his path. "I'll see you both back at headquarters when I'm finished here."

Joe turned to leave. But he still didn't manage that exit. A few steps was as far as he got. The sound stopped him in his tracks. Because it was the last thing he wanted to hear. A sound he'd anticipated, and dreaded.

A shot blasted through the church.

* * *

THE EMOTION of her argument with Sergeant Rico evaporated instantly, and in its place, Katelyn felt the barrage of instinct and adrenaline.

Sweet heaven. The gunman had attacked after all, and she hadn't been able to stop it. She prayed the bullet had missed its target and that everyone was safe.

"The shot came from outside," Rico offered, taking the words right out of her mouth. "The west side of the building, maybe. Maybe the rear. Garrett, secure the front doors, and just in case someone else hasn't already done it, call for backup. Katelyn, you're coming with me."

Rico didn't hesitate. Neither did Garrett nor she. Her brother hurried to the front door, kicking it shut and locking it. He kept his weapon ready, secured a spot near one of the sidelight windows and then pulled out his cell phone. Rico went in the direction of the sanctuary, and Katelyn followed.

"Get down!" Rico yelled to the guests.

Most had already done just that, squeezing themselves underneath the pews. There were raw screams. Chaos. The smell of fear. And in the middle of that, Katelyn saw the bride, groom and the minister cowering between the altar and an archway of pale peach roses.

No visible evidence of blood. Thank God. They seemed unharmed.

For now.

"There's an auxiliary building out there. Two story, brown brick," she relayed to Rico. "Our gunman could be using it as a catbird seat."

He nodded and without taking his attention off the partially shot-out stained glass window, he whispered to her over his shoulder. "You don't happen to have another brother stashed in the parking lot, huh?"

"I wish. But no. We're on our own until backup arrives." Which wouldn't be for minutes. Long, critical minutes.

Where just about anything could happen.

"Good," Rico responded. "Because I have an officer out there. One who's officially on this case, and I didn't want any of your relatives accidentally shooting him while he's trying to do his job."

Katelyn didn't appreciate the sarcasm but welcomed all the help they could get. Maybe the officer would be able to stop the gunman before any more damage was done.

But at the moment that seemed a lot to hope for.

There'd been damage already. Even if they stopped the shooting here and now, every one of the guests would remember this horrifying ordeal for the rest of their lives. Katelyn blamed herself for that. She'd been in a position to stop this and had failed.

A second shot rang out, quickly followed by another. And another. Two of the three went through a window on the right front side of the church and tore chunks of glass from the frame. No doubt that's what the shooter had intended to do. Now he or she had a direct line of sight into the church.

Yelling and crying out, the bride, groom and minister scurried to the other side of the altar, but it wouldn't give them shelter for long. Bullets could easily eat through that wood.

"I'll make my way over there." Rico tipped his head to a set of ornate double doors, which were only a couple of yards away from the shattered window. "If necessary I'll return fire to draw the shooter's attention. I might be able to get a visual and take him out."

Yes. Or maybe the gunman would get him first. Of course, that was a chance they had to take.

"I can help." Katelyn kicked off her shoes and peeled off the silky jacket so they wouldn't get in her way. "There aren't any guests near that other window next to the doors. I'll knock out the glass and return fire, as well. Don't worry—I'll keep watch for your officer and make sure I don't send any friendly fire his way."

Rico might have disagreed with that impromptu plan, but he didn't get a chance to say anything. More shots came crashing through the building.

Heavy, thick blasts.

Nonstop, this time.

The sounds were deafening. And they drowned out the shouts, screams and prayers that increased with each new round of fire. Just as Katelyn had figured, those shots were aimed right at the wooden altar. It was the same as the first shooting, the one that had killed Gail and her fiancé. Shots and plenty of them. But that knowledge gave Katelyn no comfort whatsoever. She'd already guessed that Gail's murder wasn't some random act of violence.

For all the good it'd done her.

Her guess was right, and yet it'd still been repeated right under her nose.

The bride screamed. Maybe in pain. Maybe just from fear. Katelyn prayed it was fear.

Rico moved. Fast and low. He was almost graceful, surprising for a man his size. With Katelyn following closely behind him, they went toward the door. Along the way, he identified himself and doled out assurances to the terrified guests.

He kept close to the perimeter wall until he got to the row of the stained glass windows, and then he lowered himself to the floor and proceeded to the doors.

The shots stopped for only a couple of seconds. Not for reloading, Katelyn soon learned. And they didn't stop because the gunman was finished for the day. The break was so the person could change out rifles. The sound of the new shots told her that much since it was a different calibration. Whoever was doing this had certainly come prepared to kill but wasn't necessarily an expert marksman. The stray bullets were landing everywhere—which, of course, made the situation all the more dangerous.

Katelyn made her way right along behind Joe Rico. Trying to time it perfectly to coordinate with his efforts, she sheltered her eyes and used the grip of her gun to knock out the glass that formed the image of the archangel, Michael. The glass was solid and held in place by not just strips of lead solder but also a sturdy frame. It took several hard jabs before she managed to dislodge enough of it so she could see into the parking lot.

Pressing her back against the narrow section of wall next to the doors, she rotated her body and did a quick check outside. She had a fairly good view of the building—and the dozen or so windows facing the church. Too many windows, and the reflection of the early afternoon sun didn't make things easier. She quickly scanned them all as best she could.

No shooter in sight.

Yet, he had to be there.

Somewhere.

Because he was still firing.

While still low on the floor, Rico reached up and turned the old-fashioned brass handle on the door. He opened it a fraction and looked out. Katelyn waited for a signal so she could return fire.

And just like that, the shots stopped.

She felt another surge of adrenaline slam through her. A bad-feeling kind of surge. If the gunman wasn't shooting, then he was likely making his getaway.

That couldn't happen.

Because she knew in her heart that he would continue this until someone stopped him.

It was a risk, but Katelyn moved closer to the window so she could check the parking lot and the grounds. Rico did the same to the door. He stood, took position and aimed.

"Think," she whispered to herself. If she were a killer, what would be her escape plan? Not the parking lot. Too visible. Not the side either since it bumped right against a fairly busy street.

No.

He'd go out the rear of the building and slip into the myriad of old shops and businesses that were crammed into this particular part of the downtown area.

Katelyn heard the sound of sirens the moment that Rico opened the door wider. Mumbling something, he peered out. He'd perhaps come to the same conclusion as she had. The gunman was getting away.

"Stay put," Rico ordered.

It was a logical order.

Katelyn needed to stay there to protect the guests. Still, part of her wanted to go after the gunman.

"Hold your positions," Garrett called out from the arched entryway that led into the church. Katelyn glanced at him and saw that he had his phone pressed to his ear. "Backup is in pursuit of a white car that just sped away."

Katelyn released the breath that she didn't even know she'd been holding. She glanced at Rico, but he didn't seem any more eager than she was to let down his guard. So they did the only thing they could do. They waited with their backs literally against the wall and their guns ready.

"Is anyone hurt?" Rico called out to the guests.

The response varied, most still layered with panic, but from what she gathered, no one had actually been shot. Nothing short of a miracle. Katelyn said a quick prayer of thanks for that and then turned to the man who'd given her so much grief about being here.

"Still think I'm the wrong person for this case?" she asked Rico.

"Yes." No hesitation whatsoever.

The analogy of butting her head against a brick wall came to mind. "But I guessed right about the gunman picking this particular wedding. Even in your book that has to count for something."

He made another check of the parking lot. "It doesn't count for much."

Crouching there among shattered glass and the smell of gunfire, it seemed petty to dislike this man because he was arrogant and hardheaded, but that didn't prevent her scowl. The scowl didn't lessen either when Garrett called out something else.

"It's over already. Backup lost the guy in pursuit," her brother announced.

"It's over," some of the guests repeated. Slowly, they began to come out of hiding. Hugging each other. Crying. Praying. Most still in shock.

Katelyn groaned and scrubbed her hand over her face. Judas. This wasn't over. In fact, that buzz in the back of her head told her it wasn't over by a long shot.

The killer had just gotten started.

Chapter Three

Joe reread the overview of the proposed mission that Lieutenant Brayden O'Malley had handed him just minutes earlier. The overview didn't read any better the second time around, and he didn't hold out hope that a third read would make it any more palatable.

There were quite a few points of contention so Joe chose the first one. "You really think the shooting day before yesterday was a result of a botched burglary of the building next to Sacred Heart church?"

"No," O'Malley readily answered. "But I'd rather have the press report that than link it with the shooting that happened a week earlier."

Joe nodded, but the two shootings wouldn't stay unlinked for long. All it would take was another incident, and unfortunately another incident was probably in the planning stages. That is, if the gunman hadn't already finalized his next hit. But the real question was—was the killer linked to the matchmaking agency or the florist?

Or neither?

The or neither was the most troublesome scenario of them all. If the shootings weren't connected through the businesses, then maybe they had a thrill killer or just a plain psycho on their hands.

Not that they didn't have that anyway.

But Joe preferred his psychos to keep to a discernable pattern, because with hard work and some luck, patterns could be identified.

"The shell casings taken from the two crime scenes didn't match," Katelyn said, reading from a copy of the overview. She gave a weary sigh. "So that complicates things."

"It just means our shooter likes to trade off weapons," Joe advised her. "It doesn't mean the crimes aren't related."

Another sigh from her. This one wasn't weary. It had a you-think? tinge to it.

"Arguments? Comments? Objections?" Lieutenant O'Malley asked. "If so, direct them to me and not at each other."

The man was definitely a multitasker. While he tossed out those leading questions and semireprimands, he looked through a report, scrawled his signature on it and tossed it into his out-box before he went onto the next one. But then, no one had ever accused this particular O'Malley of being inefficient. Just the opposite. The only accusation had been in the area of his preferential treatment.

"Concerns," Joe volunteered.

Time to move on to point two. He had a lot of concerns, but the major one was the woman with the short, flame-red hair who was sitting next to him. Now the question was how to voice that concern without thoroughly riling Katelyn's oldest brother, a man he had no desire to rile. Even under a cloud of suspicion, Brayden was formidable. Joe's investigation into departmental favoritism would no doubt irritate the man enough without adding more to the mix.

"Sergeant Rico thinks this case is too personal for me," Katelyn countered. "He believes I should step aside because I knew Gail."

And with that totally accurate observation, she looked across the desk that separated them and met her brother's gaze. In the next few seconds, at least a hundred or more words passed between them, even though neither spoke.

It was an interesting encounter to watch.

The lieutenant stared at her and lifted his eyebrow, just a fraction. That was it. No other change in his otherwise calm, authoritative expression. Yet the simple gesture caused Katelyn's mouth to tighten, and her grip on the chair arm whitened her knuckles. Joe could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a full ten degrees. It was the most efficient warning he'd ever witnessed.

"Your sister has renegade tendencies," Joe added, feeling that after what'd just happened, he was probably preaching to the choir. Still, a little choir preaching might go a long way to some changes in this mission proposal. "I'd prefer to work with another detective on this case."

And Joe already had one in mind. Detective Dawn Davidson, a veteran officer who'd worked a serial killer case just the year before. She had the experience and from all accounts was levelheaded.

"Bringing in another detective might be a problem." The lieutenant extracted a manila folder from a stack and slid it Joe's way. "This'll be an undercover assignment, and Katelyn already has her foot in the door."

"What door?" Joe asked.

"At the matchmaking agency that might be connected to the two shootings."

Judging from the soft groan that Katelyn made and the way she sank slightly lower in her chair, this would not please him. From the lieutenant's elevated eyebrow, it didn't please him much, either.

"I must have missed that foot-in-the-door part when reading the overview," Joe commented.

Brayden pointed to the folder. "It's all in there."

Katelyn turned slightly away when he opened it and kept her attention focused on her brother. The top page in the folder was a rather lengthy questionnaire from the Perfect Match Agency, and it was dated a week earlier. It'd been filled out just two days after the first shooting.

And the name at the top?

Kate Kennedy.

Joe felt a groan coming on, as well.

"Is this your handiwork?" he asked her.

"Yes. But no one at Perfect Match has any idea that I'm a cop. No one. Kennedy is obviously an alias." Katelyn directed the rest of her explanation to her brother. "I wanted to get a look at the people who worked there. I figured this was the fastest way to do it."

"But not the smartest way," Joe quickly let her know. "You could have jeopardized everything by going in there on your own."

"But I didn't." Moving to the edge of her seat, she repeated it to her brother. "I can do whatever you need me to do to make this undercover assignment work."

"I'm not the one you need to convince, Katelyn. The chief assigned Sergeant Rico as the lead for this case." And the lieutenant sat back and left it at that.

The proverbial ball had just been tossed into Joe's proverbial court.

Unfortunately, he also knew how these next few minutes were about to play out.

Hell.

Katelyn O'Malley had certainly put him in a hard place with her coloring-outside-the-lines attitude. Still, it'd only compound the problem if he let his personal feelings influence the most logical way to approach this. Well, it was the most logical approach considering she'd already tossed a monkey wrench or two into the scenario. "It wouldn't be smart for me to use another detective at this point," Joe concluded, speaking more to himself than the O'Malleys. He glanced at the questionnaire while he finished up his explanation. It figured. Katelyn had listed chili as her favorite food. "If the killer's part of the Perfect Match Agency, then he or she might be suspicious of anyone registering so soon after the second shooting."

"Guess that leaves you out then, huh?" Katelyn all but smirked at him.

Even though it was borderline petty, Joe liked it when people did that, especially when he could smirk right back. He calmly shuffled through the papers in the folder, extracted his own questionnaire and passed it to her.

Her eyes widened and skimmed over the first page. "You filled this out the same day I did?"

Let the smirking begin. "Yes."

She hissed out a breath. "Need I remind you that you just accused me of jumping the gun by going to the agency?"

"The difference is—I was on this case, and you weren't." Joe held out his hands to emphasize the space. "Big difference. I'm talking huge."

The temperature went down another notch, and her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Which brings us up-to-date, I believe," Brayden interjected. Good timing, Joe thought, since Katelyn looked ready to implode. "We have to act fast. There are only five days until Saturday. Five days until a whole host of weddings are scheduled to take place all over the city. Five days to stop a killer from striking again."

Joe was well aware of that. Those five days were already breathing down his neck. "I've learned the florist in question is doing the flower arrangements for two weddings this weekend, one Saturday, another Sunday night. But neither couple met through the Perfect Match Agency. If fact, I haven't been able to connect any of the upcoming marriages to a matchmaking agency."

"Neither have I." Katelyn pulled out her own set of notes from a leather briefcase that was leaning against her chair. "And therein lies our problem. Perfect Match doesn't release all the names of their former customers who've made wedding plans. So it becomes a needle-in-a-haystack approach."

"It's the only approach we have right now," Joe fired back. "We could stake out all the weddings in San Antonio, but it'll eat up a ton of manpower and cause people to ask too many questions and maybe even panic. Plus, there are the other ceremonies, the ones that aren't listed in the paper. We wouldn't be able to cover those. So our best bet is to go back to the source of the connection—the Perfect Match Agency. They require matched couples to meet there first for an icebreaker, and there's one every Tuesday night, including tomorrow night."

"It starts at seven-thirty," Katelyn provided. "We don't need an invitation. We just need to be computer matched…somehow."

It didn't surprise Joe that she knew those details. She'd probably already picked out the clothes she was going to wear. And she'd done all of that before even being officially assigned to the team.

His team.

He hoped like the devil that she didn't wear those sexy stilettos and the little green outfit. He'd have enough distractions as it was.

"Detective O'Malley and I'll do this intro thing tomorrow night at Perfect Match," Joe continued, making sure he sounded like the boss. Because after the minifantasy involving her choice of fashion, he needed the reminder in the worst sort of way. "We'll pretend we were high school sweethearts and that we're surprised but happy to be reunited."

She nodded. "Good idea. And that'll explain a hasty engagement and equally hasty marriage."

"Well, hopefully." It might also make the wrong person suspicious, but he'd deal with that when and if it happened. "While we're there, we'll have a good look around the place. Without breaking the law, of course."

Another you-think? huff from Katelyn.

Joe ignored her and continued. "In the meantime, I'll keep going through the background checks I've been doing on the employees and the owners of Perfect Match and the florist."

"I've done backgrounds checks, as well," Katelyn informed him.

Joe bobbed his head. "Of course you have."

The woman had an incredibly effective scalpel-sharp glare. "I'm not an idiot. I did them discretely."

Joe might have questioned her on what she considered discrete, but the lieutenant spoke first. "Sounds as if you have everything under control."

Not even close.

Joe kept that sentiment to himself.

"Good." Brayden stood and reached for the jacket draped over the back of his chair. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with the chief. Feel free to use my office to hash out the rest of the details. Oh, and it goes without saying—keep me informed."

"Wait," Katelyn called out when her brother headed for the door. "You're both missing a key point. Yes, Sergeant Rico and I filled out these questionnaires, but that in itself doesn't give us a computer match. I hate to state the obvious here, but the computer does that. In fact, it generates a list of matches so the candidates can meet the people at the icebreaker. What if neither of us has any matches? What then? We can't just show up."

"I'd planned to have one of the techs go into the system and arrange for the questionnaires to be matched," Joe explained.

Katelyn shook her head. "That sounds risky. Someone at the agency might figure out—"

"A match isn't a problem," Brayden assured them. "It's all in the folder."

There was something about the lieutenant's strange, almost self-satisfied expression that sent Joe thumbing through the rest of the papers in the file. Katelyn must have had the same feeling, because she leaned closer so she could see the documents, as well.

It didn't take Joe long to find it. There it was. The dozen or so men listed as "dream date" matches for client 6341B, Kate Kennedy. His own alias, Joe Farrell, was the first name on the list.

He felt as if someone had slugged him in the solar plexus.

"You already had the tech rig the system?" Joe asked. But he didn't think that's what had generated the look on the lieutenant's face.

"No. The two of you matched without any tech interference." Brayden's eyebrows flexed. "For once, Murphy's Law worked in our favor. Let's hope that luck continues."

And with that little scud missile attack, the lieutenant left them sitting there in somewhat stunned silence.

"It had to be the chili," Joe mumbled under his breath.

Or maybe Katelyn just jotted down a whole bunch of lies while filling out the questionnaire. He hadn't, that was for sure. Unnecessary lies were just too hard to keep track of, so with the exception of his name, address and occupation, everything else was true.

Yet, they'd matched.

Even if she'd lied, that was an unsettling coincidence because it meant her lies matched his truths.

Joe quietly pushed that coincidence aside and moved on to the mission at hand.

"I'll see you at the Perfect Match tomorrow night." He stood and tucked the folder beneath his arm. "Until then, we keep doing these background checks and hope we find a smoking gun. Oh, and by the way, I insist the officers on my team follow the rules. My rules," he emphasized. "If you jeopardize this assignment again—"

"I won't."

"If you do, I'll have your butt and your badge."

She nodded, after a contemplative moment.

Joe almost decided to leave it at that, but there was something he couldn't leave unsaid. "I hope it's occurred to you that this plan is designed to send a killer after us."

No hesitation this time. "It has."

Good. At least underneath all that wisecracking talk, Katelyn O'Malley was smart enough to know what they were up against.

And what they were up against was a killer.

Even more, the moment they stepped inside Perfect Match, they would become the ultimate bait.

Chapter Four

Katelyn fanned herself with the Perfect Match folder.

Even though the sun was on the verge of setting, the summer heat was still escaping in filmy waves off the asphalt. It was muggy. A Texas-June kind of muggy that even the locals complained about. The air was heavy with exhaust fumes and the steamy smoke from the mesquite grills of a nearby patio restaurant. Not exactly an enticing combination, but the aroma of spicy fajitas was somehow pushing its way through the rest of the less appetizing scents.

She willed herself not to sweat as she hurried across the parking lot toward the sprawling building that housed the Perfect Match Agency. Willing didn't work. A slick bead of perspiration slithered down the center of her back, and for a couple of seconds, she entertained a pipe dream of stopping by the restaurant for a virgin frozen margarita.

This wasn't, however, the time for pipe dreams or sweat-cooling margaritas, even virgin ones. It was time to look for a killer.

Katelyn stepped through the front door of the agency, mumbled a thank-you! for the Arctic blast of the A/C and made her way to the reception area.

An empty area, she soon learned.

Empty, no doubt, because she was early. But then, she usually was. Brayden joked that she'd inherited some bizarre fear-of-being-late gene, but her early arrival in this case would allow her time to double-check the few things she could actually double check. Exits. Bullet-accessible windows. Security cameras, like the one mounted on the light fixture in the center of the room. It also gave her some time to take a deep breath and steady her nerves.

Someone had decorated the spacious rectangle-shaped room. Unlike her earlier visit, tonight there were bunches of gold Mylar balloons in the corners, huge bouquets of cream-colored flowers in crystal vases and bottles of champagne angled into gleaming silver ice buckets. Soft, romantic music filled the background. The stage was set for love.

But hopefully not murder.

She was armed with a Glock in her purse. It was her preferred poison when she needed to carry light. And thanks to the flexible, pencil-size device beneath her collar, she had two-way communication with headquarters. However, neither of those two security measures would give her much protection if someone opened fire through the trio of floor-to-ceiling windows. For all practical purposes, she was on her own.

An obvious drawback to being early.

The sudden clicking sound sent her reaching for her gun, but Katelyn forced herself not to draw. She needed to stay in character. It was a good thing, too. Because the click was a door opening, and the blond-haired man who came in through the side entrance wasn't carrying a weapon but another bottle of champagne.

He immediately made eye contact and smiled, a slightly too-friendly smile, before he proceeded to the table with the champagne. "Kate Kennedy, right?"

"Yes."

Katelyn didn't have to ask his name. He was Bruce Donovan. Age, twenty-nine. A local, but that sun-bleached hair, tropical tan and muscled torso seemed more suited to a California beach than the Alamo City. His official job title was office manager of the Perfect Match Agency.

He was also a prime murder suspect.

Of course, anyone associated with the agency was a suspect, but Donovan was near the top of that list. According to his background check, he'd been hit with not one but two restraining orders for stalking former girlfriends. The last incident had escalated into an assault. Combined with the fact that he was from San Antonio and a white male, it meant he fit their profile to a proverbial tee.

"I'm Bruce Donovan," he greeted. "I run things around here. In fact, I'm the one who processed your application." His face got a contemplative look for several seconds, then he snapped his fingers. "You're a P.E. teacher on break for the summer. You like old Indiana Jones movies, basketball and chili."

He grinned as if pleased with himself for recalling that information. Katelyn didn't return the grin. If he actually memorized details about every client, it was a little unnerving. If he'd only memorized her details, then it went well past the unnerving stage.

"I remember because I kept thinking what a great match we'd be," he continued. "But unfortunately since I work here, I'm not allowed to pair up with any of the clients. Well, not officially anyway."

Good grief. As if he hadn't gotten his message across, he aimed another flirtatious grin in her direction.

"So do a lot of people actually find their perfect match at these icebreakers?" she asked.

"Depends on your definition of perfect."

"A lifelong partner," Katelyn quickly offered.

"Ah, marriage." He shrugged. "Sure, it happens." But that was as far as he took the thread of conversation.

She pointed to the wall above the table. "You should put photos of the happy couples there. It'd be great publicity."

"I'll pass on your suggestion to my boss." He placed the bottle of champagne on the table, searched through the two dozen or so plastic-encased name tags and picked up one.

Hers, apparently.

He crossed the room and reached out as if to pin it on her jacket, just over her left breast, but Katelyn intervened and took it from him instead. So he was perhaps a groping pervert in addition to being a stalker and a killer.

What a pleasant guy.

His all-American surfer-dude smile faded. He probably wasn't happy with her insistence that she pin on her own name tag.

Katelyn nodded her greeting in lieu of a handshake, and she tried to pick up on any other vibes. There was definitely that little buzz in the back of her head, but it'd been there since she'd first stepped foot in the place. And speaking of stepping, she backtracked a little toward the door so she could take cover in case Donovan was aiming for a third restraining order.

Donovan tipped his head to the glossy gold-and-white Perfect Match folder she'd tucked beneath her arm. "So did you see any immediate prospects on your list?"

"One. But it could be a coincidence." Since it was time to do a little more stage setting, she pinned on her name tag and opened the folder. She pointed to Joe's alias. "I dated a guy by that name in high school."

Something darted through his coffee-brown eyes. Concern, maybe? "Is that good or bad?"

"Definitely good. He's the one who got away, if you know what I mean."

He made a sound of superficial agreement and then quickly excused himself to leave when a man and a woman came in. Not Joe. But from the already friendly chatter and come-and-get-me smiles, these two had already decided they were a good match.

Once the two newcomers had on their name tags, Katelyn whispered their identities so the tech back at headquarters could begin background checks. In case something serious developed between them, she didn't want this couple to become the sniper's next targets.

"Kate Kennedy?" she heard the now-familiar voice say. "Is that really you?"

It was show time. She took a long breath, braced herself and turned toward him to start the charade.

Oh, mercy.

She obviously hadn't braced herself nearly enough.

At the wedding, she'd seen Joe Rico's GQ look, and over the past couple of days, his urban cop look of khakis and button-down dress shirts. But this was obviously his cool hot-guy look.

It worked.

Black pants, perfectly tailored. A deep crimson red crewneck pullover that hugged his chest the way men's chests should be hugged. Well, men with great chests, anyway.

Which he had.

The breeze coming in from the still-open door stirred his lightweight jacket. Also black. He'd likely worn it to conceal his .357 Magnum, but it made him look a little mysterious, confident. And dangerous.

Katelyn bet he'd never had to take a deep breath to steady himself. On the other hand, she required several more.

"Joe?" she managed to say, when she remembered how to form words. Sheez, her throat actually clamped up. She added a staged giggle of excitement to unclamp it. "It is you. I can't believe this."

As they'd discussed, Joe and she went to each other immediately, and he pulled her into his arms. Yep. He was definitely carrying concealed, and there was a backup in the slide holster on the rear waist of his pants.

"You're early," he whispered.

"You're not," she countered, also in a whisper.

"I was busy. We might have a little problem."

Okay. Little didn't sound so bad. Little problems always arose during undercover missions. "What—"

That's as far as Katelyn got.

Joe brushed his mouth over hers. A friendly sort of gesture—which they'd also discussed should happen. In theory, such a gesture was supposed to announce to the people at the agency that they were staking their personal claims on each other. Like his clothes, it worked. Katelyn heard the other couple and Bruce Donovan mention something about an apparent perfect match.

Katelyn also heard her heart pounding in her ears and felt her body turning soft and warm.

And she cursed herself.

Talk about being a hormonal wimp. Somehow, she had to make herself immune to any carnal-related reactions to Joe Rico, and she did that with a simple reminder that he was not only her boss but also the man investigating her brother.

That immediately cooled off her body.

She pulled back, both literally and figuratively.

"Incoming, six o'clock," Joe whispered.

In other words, someone was approaching from directly behind her. While Joe kept her firmly against him, she turned her head, already smiling, and came face-to-face with Addison Merrick, the owner of Perfect Match. He was also one of their suspects.

He seemed younger than Katelyn had expected, and she'd expected young. Merrick was barely twenty-six but could have passed for a teenager. Well, except for the gunmetal-gray eyes. There was something not so youthful about them.

Merrick wasn't alone. A broad-shouldered man came into the reception area with him and took up position near the door. It was Katelyn's guess that he wasn't a client looking for love but was rather a bodyguard. Maybe this was the little problem Joe had mentioned.

"I smell success," Merrick greeted.

No all-American, surfer-dude smile from him. It was on the mechanical side. Probably no perverted, name-tag-pinning intentions, either. He looked more like the Ivy League type. And was. Old money. And from all accounts Perfect Match was a gift from his megasuccessful father. A way of keeping Addison a productive member of society. So far, it'd worked. Despite a fairly recent dip in business, it was the most successful agency of its type in the city.

"Kate Kennedy, Joe Farrell," Merrick continued. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome."

She felt Joe stiffen slightly but couldn't ask him why. It probably had something to do with the guard who was studying them a little too carefully.

Joe extended his hand to Merrick. "Thanks. It looks like joining Perfect Match was the wise thing to do." He smiled lovingly at Katelyn before he slid his attention back to Merrick. "By the way, a friend of mine said he might be here tonight. Chad Benton. Have you seen him?"

Chad Benton? Katelyn had no idea what this was about. There was no one by that name associated with this case.

Merrick shook his head. "We're expecting a big crowd so you might want to check to see if your friend's name tag is on the table."

Merrick's suggestion was just the beginning, however, and not a prelude to a departure. He wasted no time latching on to her hand, and like a good host, he introduced Joe and her to the other couple. By the time he'd finished, more clients had started to trickle in.

Bruce Donovan did his hosting duties, as well. He began pouring the champagne—lots of it. Nothing like alcohol to kick up the libido and lower the defenses. The piped-in music switched to a slow, sultry beat.

"What about that little problem?" she asked Joe the moment Merrick walked away. She looped her arm through his and leaned against him, snuggling, so she could speak as softly as possible.

"Someone's watching the place."

Okay. Maybe it wasn't so little after all. "Any idea who?"

"Yeah."

Again, no explanation since groping-boy, Bruce Donovan, walked up to them with a tray of filled champagne glasses. Even when they both declined, the man didn't move far enough away for them to have a private conversation.

Joe remedied that. Smiling and whispering sweet nothings about how glad he was to see her again, he led Katelyn to the far end of the room and then just inside the hallway that led to the agency's offices. He angled them so they wouldn't be facing the camera in the reception room.

"Fiona Shipley," Joe informed her. When the static crackled in their respective communicators, he turned his off, because the now close proximity was interfering with reception. "She's parked outside watching the building."

Katelyn didn't have to ask who that was. Fiona was a regular client at Perfect Match and a former acquaintance of Raul Hernandez, the murdered groom, and that was former acquaintance in a really bad way. After Fiona and Raul had met, dated and then broken up, she had apparently threatened him. The police had been looking for her but hadn't been able to locate her—not since she'd quit her job and moved out of her apartment. Apparently though, she'd come to them.

"No sign of her carrying an assault rifle, huh?" Katelyn asked, only partly joking.

"Not that I could see, but I've got two officers in a surveillance van watching her just in case." Joe glanced over his shoulder and mumbled some profanity. "Play along."

That was it. No other warning. No hint that he was about to launch into a full-contact charade.

Joe pushed her against the wall and kissed her. He pressed his body against her. Snugly against her. Until they were aligned like human puzzle parts.

Katelyn caught a glimpse of Addison Merrick watching them from the reception room. So this was Joe's version of a get-lost tactic.

Joe kept the mouth-to-mouth clinical. Well, as clinical as something like that could be, considering he had a rather hot kissing technique. No tongue involved. Just pressure. The right amount of pressure, glide and moisture to make her wish, at least temporarily, that he'd use his tongue.

He didn't stop there. His kisses traveled from her mouth. To her cheek. To her ear.

Not good.

She bit off a moan of pleasure. It seemed trivial, considering everything else that was going on, but if these forced kissing sessions continued, she would need to set some ground rules so he could go easy on her erogenous zones.

"Any suspicious activity around the perimeter of the building?" Joe murmured.

Not exactly the sensual question her body had expected to hear from the man kissing her, and it took her a moment to realize Joe was speaking to the officer monitoring the communicator under her collar.

"Fiona Shipley's still watching the place," was the response they got.

Obviously unaware of the effect he was having on her, Joe continued his inquiries while pretending to nibble on her earlobe. "Tail her if she leaves."

Normally, whispered official orders wouldn't have been a turn on for her, but Joe's warm, moist breath hit against her neck and ear. Mercy. Not good. She didn't want to add any more hormones to this volatile mix.

Another glance at the reception area. No Addison Merrick in sight. At least their kissing session had sent him on his way.

"Merrick knew our names," Joe informed her. "I wasn't wearing a name tag, and he never looked at yours. Yet, he knew who we were."

Katelyn went back through the events of that particular introduction and realized it was true. She reprimanded herself for not noticing it, as well. "So that's what Chad was all about?"

Not a real person but a test. Since Merrick suggested that Joe look through the name tags, it meant he didn't know the names of all the guests. And unlike a few of the others, Joe and she weren't repeat customers. Nor had they met him when they filled out their applications.

So how had he known their names?

"This might not be such a little problem," Katelyn mumbled.

Joe quickly agreed.

In fact, it could mean the killer was already on to them.

Chapter Five

Joe should have been thinking about Addison Merrick. Specifically, about the fact the man was obviously suspicious of them.

With reason.

Both Katelyn and he had registered at Perfect Match just days after the murders. That said, only the shooter himself would have likely made the connection at this point. And that meant that Merrick was possibly their wedding sniper.

So why wasn't his attention on Merrick or the "security guard" he'd brought with him?

Because Joe was involuntarily sharing that attention with the woman he had plastered against him, that's why.

He was a fool to notice how nicely Katelyn fit in his arms. A fool to notice that she tasted almost as good as she looked. And basically, he was just a fool to have thought he could kiss her and not lust after her. That meant he had to do something about it.

Joe slid his fingers beneath her collar and temporarily turned off the audio feed on her communicator. The surveillance officers would be able to talk to them, to warn them if necessary, but they wouldn't be able to hear what he was about to admit to Detective O'Malley.

"We'd better try to keep the kissing to a minimum from now on," he whispered.

"Sure," she readily agreed.

Too readily.

Which meant all the supposedly for-show making out probably had an effect on her, as well. Joe didn't care much for the fact that it pleased him a little. This wasn't a competition, but sometimes it felt like one.

"Hey, contrary to public opinion, I'm human," Katelyn said, frowning. And probably so she wouldn't have to add more to an already uncomfortable conversation, she reconnected her communicator.

"Any indication that Addison Merrick has been investigating us?" she whispered to the person on the other end of that communicator.

Joe wished he'd thought of the question first, which was only more proof that he needed a serious mental adjustment. This case was critical. People's lives were at stake, including theirs. Heck, even his promotion to lieutenant was probably riding on this. It was no time for lust.

He repeated all of that to himself several times and hoped those reminders stayed reminders for the rest of this assignment.

"He didn't trigger any info markers to indicate an investigation," the other officer answered through the communicator. "But then, with his resources, that's not surprising."

In other words, Merrick could have done a full-scale check on them—or rather on their false identities—and they wouldn't have known.

"Hypothetically, what would Merrick have learned?" Joe asked.

He glanced at the person who stopped at the end of the hallway. Bruce Donovan. Joe didn't think it was his imagination that the man cast a suspicious glance their way. It made sense. If there'd been a computer search, Donovan would have likely been the one to do it. But the real question was—had Donovan instigated that search on his own, or had Merrick ordered it?

"The only thing Merrick could have gotten was what was in the fake files we created for you and Detective O'Malley," the officer explained. "Fake employment and financial records. Phony e-mail accounts. The addresses of the apartments that were rented to support your covers. That sort of thing. If they went after your real backgrounds, we'd know."

Katelyn opened her mouth, probably to respond to that, but she'd obviously not seen Donovan and his spying eyes. Just in case the man was eavesdropping, Joe did a quick maneuver and put his mouth right against her ear.

"Save your questions," he mumbled. "We have company."

She groaned softly.

So with this latest round of surveillance, things weren't going exactly as planned. Joe had hoped to establish the pretense of the reunited couple, leave Katelyn in the reception area and have a look around while she covered for him. He'd only managed the first of those and would likely have to save that search for another day. They would have to return anyway in two days, on Thursday, to announce their engagement. By then, he'd figure out a way to do the search.

"Fiona Shipley's about to drive away," Joe heard the backup officer announce into the communicator.

"Go after her." And that meant with the heavy scrutinization from Merrick and Donovan, it was a good time for him to get Katelyn out of there, as well. He caught her arm. "Let's say our goodbyes. We'll come back later for your car."

"Wait." She held her ground. "We still haven't looked around the place."

"And it won't happen tonight." Joe had to pull her closer to him so he could whisper. "You heard—things aren't exactly routine around here, and now we're without backup because they have to go after Fiona Shipley."

She wanted to argue. He could see it in the depth of those slightly narrowed eyes. Heck, he wanted to argue, too. And he really wanted to stay and see what he could find. But he wouldn't do that at the expense of further risking her life. There were already enough risks without him bending the rules.

Since there was no way to make this sound better, Joe just came out with it. "It's time to act as if we're ready to drag each other off to bed."

Which wouldn't be much of a stretch for him.

A few mumbled words of profanity from her, but she cooperated by sliding her arm inside his coat and around his waist. She even added a sultry chuckle and nudged him playfully with her hip.

Nope.

The pretense of dragging her off to bed wouldn't be much of a stretch at all.

Bruce Donovan stepped in front of them when they started across the reception area. "Hey, you're not leaving already, huh?" he asked, seemingly shocked.

"Kate and I have some, uh, catching up to do." Joe made sure there were enough undertones in that remark.

Too bad Donovan didn't pick up on those undertones. He placed his hand on Katelyn's arm and gave her an almost intimate rub with his fingers. His fingers even strayed a bit in the direction of Katelyn's breast.

"But you haven't even checked out the other matches on your list," Donovan reminded her. "And here I selected them just for you."

She chuckled again, a low sexy purr, and lifted her equally sexy gaze to Joe. "I've already found all the matches I need. Now it's time to play with a little fire."

With that naughty double entendre, she pushed Donovan's hand aside, tightened her grip on Joe's waist and got them moving toward the door.

"Man, I hope he's the killer," she grumbled under her breath. "Because I would so enjoy kicking his ass."

Joe forced himself not to smile, which was easy, since they'd hardly made it a step before Addison Merrick stopped them.

"Bruce tells me you're thinking of leaving?" Merrick asked.

Katelyn did her part with yet another sultry smile and a sensual snuggle against him.

"Yes. Thanks for arranging this," Joe added, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn't.

"But you can't go. Not yet. I need the two of you to sign release forms."

Since this was the first he'd heard mentioned of release forms, and since Merrick was a murder suspect, Joe was automatically suspicious. "We're in a bit of a hurry. Can't this wait?"

"Afraid not. It's a legal requirement. Normally, I put out the forms a little later in the evening, but if you'll come with me, I'll have you sign them in my office."

There wasn't a lot of time for Joe to debate the issue, but what a heck of an issue it was. If he declined, it could very well blow the undercover operation when it'd barely gotten started. If he said yes, it would be a meeting away from witnesses, away from the safety of being in a public place. Besides, standard procedure required—

"Let's make this quick," Katelyn insisted.

And then there was that angle. His partner making a decision without even consulting him.

Joe hoped Merrick didn't notice how much his jaw tightened.

Merrick smiled, that too-artificial smile that Joe didn't even try to interpret, and the man motioned for the guard before he turned toward the hall. It didn't surprise Joe when the guard followed. Basically, Merrick was leading them to a location where they'd be out of sight from the others, and he was taking his hired gun along with him.

And they had no backup.

Maybe he wouldn't regret Katelyn's let's make this quick in the next couple of minutes.

"Is this guy a friend of yours?" he asked Merrick. Joe tipped his head to the guard stalking along behind them.

"An employee," Merrick answered without even looking back. "I need someone to witness your signatures."

Of course he did.

Well, at least there was one consolation in all of this. If by some long shot Merrick wanted to do them some harm, then it'd almost certainly mean he was their sniper. Katelyn and he could perhaps end this right here, right now. Of course, that would mean a gun battle in a confined space with innocent people nearby. Not his first choice of ways to bring this to a close.

Obviously Katelyn had figured that out, as well. She kept her arm around him as they followed Merrick, but using Joe's coat as cover, she eased her hand into his slide holster located just inside the back waist of his pants. To a casual observer or the guard behind them, it probably appeared that she was copping a feel. But what she was doing was removing his reserve weapon with her left hand. It made sense because she could easily have been spotted if she'd gone after the gun in her purse.

She didn't stop there. While still keeping her left hand beneath his coat, Katelyn inched just enough away from him that things still looked intimate, but it wouldn't hinder him if he had to draw his primary.

"You're still in hot water," Joe mumbled. Good preparation after the fact didn't void the brash decision she'd made on her own.

"Promise?" she tossed back in that same mock purr.

He simply kept his attention on Merrick. Not easy to do, either. Why did it always feel as if he'd been smacked with a two-by-four whenever he was around Katelyn O'Malley?

Just as Joe suspected, Merrick's office was practically at the end of the hall. And also as he'd expected, the guard posted himself in the doorway behind them after they'd entered.

Other than the guard, the rest of the office looked normal. A slick thin-screen computer. Assorted files and papers. Tasteful watercolor paintings on the walls. There was also a rather large Rolodex on the corner of the glossy executive-size desk. Merrick had obviously made a lot of contacts in his line of work.

"This is a formality," Merrick explained. He rifled through his desk, presumably looking for that formality. Joe angled Katelyn so if necessary they could return fire in either direction, at Merrick or the guard.

But it wasn't a gun that Merrick pulled out from the drawer but two very official-looking forms.

That didn't cause Joe, however, to relax.

Keeping a grip on his weapon, Katelyn picked up a pen off Merrick's desk and scrawled her alias signature. She passed the pen to Joe, but he waited until he was certain she had good visual and position before he risked occupying his shooting hand with the pen.

"All done," she announced.

Joe agreed, and he didn't give Merrick time to say otherwise. He turned and met the guard's gaze head-on. Joe made sure that the guy understood that one way or another, they would get past him.

The guard stepped aside.

Joe didn't have to tell Katelyn to watch their backs. She did it on her own. So that she could look over his shoulder, she automatically slid herself against him under the pretense of whispering in his ear. The pretense continued to a nip of his earlobe.

"Are you purposely trying to rile me by not following regulations?" he mumbled as they went out the front door.

"Not really. It just comes natural after being a kid sister to two brothers."

Her gaze darted around the area, as well. Joe had gotten lucky with the parking space. He was almost directly in front of the building, and he got her to the car. Fast. He didn't want anyone taking shots at them, and the bullet-resistant windows gave them at least some safety.

"Sorry about that impromptu decision I made back there," she continued. "But I didn't want to tip Merrick—"

"I know what you were doing." Joe couldn't help it, he huffed. God knows why. Huffing only made him sound like an idiot, and it obviously wouldn't change his partner's approach to this case. Still, he tried. "Should I go back over the rules of chain of command?"

Now it was her time to huff. "Don't give me that. You were about to decide the same thing. There's no way you would have blown this because of the slight additional risk of going into that office."

"Maybe. But we'll never know, will we?" And so that Katelyn wouldn't continue to argue, he leaned slightly closer to her neck. "Situation report?" Joe snarled into the communicator.

"We're still following Fiona Shipley. She appears to be just driving around but in the opposite direction of her last known residence."

Bloody hell. He hated unpredictable people and their unpredictable patterns. "Don't lose her."

The moment Joe got his assurance that they wouldn't, Katelyn turned off the audio feed function of the communicator.

"You know what you said back there about keeping the kissing to a minimum?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Well, I know we can't avoid it, but when we're doing these phony make-out sessions, steer clear of that little place just below my ear. It's a big-time erogenous zone for me."

Joe eyed the spot and was in such an ornery mood, he considered kissing it just so he could prove that he was the one in charge here. Unfortunately, kissing any of her erogenous zones at this point would be just plain unprofessional and would likely end up giving him an erection.

Hardly a bargaining tool in this game of jockeying for control.

"Any place in particular I should avoid kissing you?" she asked.

And she was serious.

"Let's just say I'd be attentive to just about anything and leave it at that." He glanced back at the doorway of Perfect Match. Not an empty doorway, either. Addison Merrick was there, and he was staring at them.

Cursing, Joe latched on to a handful of that flame-red hair and hauled her to him. He kissed her all right, but he kept an eye on their voyeuristic host. When he was satisfied that he'd done all he could to preserve their cover, Joe started the car and drove away.

The next step was to go to Katelyn's fake apartment so they could begin the next phase of the pretense. That meant spending the next four days, and nights, together.

Alone.

"I thought you said unnecessary kissing wasn't a good idea?" she complained.

"Trust me, it was necessary."

Besides, it was too late to undo it. And it sure as heck was too late to stop what they'd put into motion. They'd either succeed together.

Or maybe die trying.

Either was possible.

Chapter Six

"I think I might have found something," she heard Joe announce from the other room.

Katelyn leaned back a little so she could glance at him through the bedroom door. For security reasons they had turned off most of the lights, but it wasn't difficult to see Joe working on his laptop at the tiny kitchen table in the equally tiny kitchen. There were no windows in that particular area so he was using the dim light over the stove to read through the latest background info on their suspects.

"Addison Merrick's longtime fiancée broke up with him last month. A bad break, too. Very messy," Joe went on. He positioned one of the other kitchen chairs in front of him and propped up his feet. "And according to his very chatty personal trainer, he's been under psychiatric care since he was a teenager. He suffers from manic-depression coupled with something called radical impulsive tendencies."

"What the heck is that last part?" She opened the suitcase that Garrett had packed for her and plundered through it for something she could wear to bed. Hopefully, it'd be something that covered a lot of skin because the apartment only had one small bedroom. The sleeping bag in the corner let her know that she'd be sharing that limited space with Joe.

Katelyn took a deep, steadying breath.

"Beats me. Maybe it means Merrick's just an irrational ticked-off killer, as opposed to all those other nonticked-off rational killers we deal with every day."

"Yeah, that'd be a nice change, huh?" she joked.

Katelyn studied the garments and realized she'd gotten her something to cover a lot of skin wish. There was an enormous pair of cartoon superhero pj's, no makeup whatsoever, only a toothbrush for toiletries, jeans and a T-shirt. Her underwear choices were limited to cotton and were the worst ones possible Garrett could have found in her lingerie drawer. If that's where he indeed got them. They looked like Salvation Army rejects.

She frowned.

Garrett was either trying to establish a new fashion look for her or else he wanted to make sure there was nothing alluring about her appearance. Perhaps the contents of the suitcase were her brother's version of a modern-day chastity belt.

With her limited choices, she opted for the pj's that were dotted with caped and winged crusaders. Katelyn stepped deeper into the dark bedroom, keeping the door open a crack between them so she could still hear Joe's ongoing summary of the new reports.

"I think some of the dots are starting to connect," he continued. "Get this—Merrick's shrink is a guy by the name of Dr. Allen Kent. Ring any bells?"

The moment the name registered, Katelyn hurriedly put on the pj's and walked back to the doorway. "He's Gail's ex-husband. Their divorce became final just a couple of weeks before her wedding to Raul."

Now that was an interesting connection. Their prime suspect, Addison Merrick, was in therapy with the ex-husband of their first murder victim.

"Coincidence?" she suggested.

"Maybe." Joe tossed her a glance. And did a double take before he shook his head. "But because he's an ex, he's a suspect. I'll have someone question Dr. Kent tomorrow. Too bad I can't do it myself, but I can't risk blowing our cover."

"It might be a risk no matter who does the questioning, especially since he'll just roadblock us with doctor-patient confidentiality. He might even lawyer up. Wouldn't it be a better idea just to have him followed?"

"Then I wouldn't be able to get his reaction when he's asked about his connection to Merrick."

True. And maybe it was worth the risk just to shake things up a little. It might make the sniper think twice about launching another attack over the weekend.

"What exactly are you wearing?" Joe asked.

She glanced down at the pajamas and shrugged. "I think it belongs in the sleepwear category of garments. Garrett packed for me."

That seemed to be the only explanation Joe required. He mumbled something under his breath about brotherly love, minimized Merrick's file on the computer screen and clicked on to the next one.

While she waited for it to load, she glanced at Joe's attire. He still wore the clothes he'd had on for the icebreaker. Well, minus the jacket. His hair was no longer perfect, however. Probably because he had a habit of scratching his head and running his hand through it while in deep thought.

And then there was the stubble.

No ordinary five o'clock shadow for this guy. Nope. It fell into the category of the desperado look. Very fashionable. Equally sexy. But what made it even more so was that he wore it as naturally as that contemplative cop's look, which sadly for her was the greatest turn-on of all.

"Fiona Shipley," Joe read aloud.

Good. Back to business. It was exactly where her mind needed to be. "Anything new on her?"

"You mean other than the fact that she managed to shake the backup officers who were following her, and now no one knows where she is?"

"Yes, other than that," Katelyn grumbled.

She made her way around him to get to the fridge. Ah, she had much better luck there than her suitcase. It was stocked with fruit and other snacks, but what immediately caught her eye was the six-pack of her favorite Irish beer. It must have been Garrett's peace offering for the botched fashion choices.

"Other than a knack for disappearing," Joe said glancing over the report, "we don't really have much. We already knew she was a frequent customer at Perfect Match and that the dead groom had been one of her fairly recent dream matches."

Katelyn opened a bottle of beer and took a long sip. "Which means nothing, of course. I had over a dozen dream matches so heaven knows how many she's had over the past year."

There. She'd been trying to figure out a way to dismiss the fact that Joe had been her number one match. Not that it was important, but it'd been one of those little nagging thoughts in the back of her mind.

When he didn't respond, Katelyn glanced at him. No double take this time. Joe was staring at her. Well, he was staring at her beer, anyway.

"Want one?" she asked, lifting the bottle. "It's the good stuff. My favorite. I'll have to thank Garrett for buying it."

"Actually, I asked him to pick it up when he wanted to know what to bring over."

Katelyn had already reached for the fridge, but that brought her hand to a stop. She forced herself not to stop for too long so it wouldn't appear she was shocked by that revelation.

"Well, then. I owe you the thanks instead." She took out a beer from the fridge, handed it to him and left it at that.

Joe closed down the files and started in on his beer. It was obviously his favorite, as well.

"Agreeing to go into that back office with Merrick wasn't a safe idea," he let her know.

Oh, that.

She hadn't thought for a minute that he'd forget it. "No. But it was a smart one. Come on, you were on the verge of following him, but I just got around to saying it first."

He didn't agree, or disagree. Joe sat there, staring into space while slowly sliding his fingers through the moisture on the longneck bottle.

Judas.

Even that made her body think of erotic things that it shouldn't be thinking about.

"Talk to me about Brayden," she said to give her body something else to contemplate. "About this so-called investigation that the chief ordered regarding preferential treatment."

That got Joe's attention off blank space. He looked at her again. "Is this the part where you tell me to back off and leave your brother alone?"

"Something like that. He's had a rough time recently."

He nodded. "Yeah, I heard. I'm sorry about his wife's death."

"His wife's murder," Katelyn quickly corrected. "She was murdered last year, and the case is practically cold. There are no arrests and no leads. Brayden has to live with that every single moment of his life. Any idea what that does to a good cop, to know he can't solve his own wife's murder?"

Another nod.

"By nodding, I guess you mean to imply that you understand, but there's no way you could," Katelyn went on. There was a lot more emotion in her voice than she wanted. But then, she'd never thought to discuss this objectively. "Brayden loved her, and it rips his heart to shreds to know that her killer is still out there somewhere."

"I'm sorry." It probably would have been easier for him to turn his attention back to the condensation on his beer bottle, or anywhere else for that matter, but he didn't. Joe kept his gaze firmly on her. "Do you honestly think that I'd believe there's preferential treatment just because it's an allegation?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Frowned. And silently cursed him. It was a dirty-pool kind of question, one that diffused the indignation she'd planned to hang on to a little longer. It was a good barrier against the effects of that desperado stubble.

"Brayden is lucky to have Garrett and you," Joe said, getting up from his chair. "And you're lucky to have them." He spared her pj's another glance. "I guess."

She couldn't help it. She smiled. But she suppressed it as quickly as possible. "Does that mean Garrett had this same chat with you?"

"Twice."

Katelyn had to suppress a smile again. "I'll bet those were interesting conversations, especially considering you two are the same rank."

Joe appeared to suppress a smile of his own. "And am I supposed to believe you held something back because I outrank you?"

"Busted." She finished off her beer, tossed the bottle into a recycling bin and unstrapped the slide holster from around her waist. "Present levity and warm fuzzy feelings aside, if you hurt Brayden, I'll make you pay."

"Like I said, he's lucky to have you." He tipped his head toward the windows in the living room. "Don't stand in here too long."

Because someone might already be watching them. If the killer hadn't already scoped them out, then he or she would be doing it very soon. It was best not to be in his direct line of fire when that happened.

He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We've got an early morning ahead of us."

"Should we turn off all the lights?" she asked, going into the bedroom ahead of him. She placed her slide holster on the nightstand next to her badge, primary weapon and the communicator that she'd already turned off. Then Katelyn stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"No. We should look…active," Joe responded. "That way, it'll convince a killer that we're on our way to becoming a bride and groom."

"Too bad I don't have a pair of those blow-up dolls we could parade past the window every now and then." She paused, and was thankful she wasn't in the same room with him so he could see the blush rise on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry I said that."

He chuckled softly. An incredibly sexy male sound that made her want to pound her head against the wall.

This was going to be such a long week.

From the mirror, she watched Joe add his two guns and his badge to the nightstand, making the rather small piece of furniture look even smaller under the arsenal. He had his shirt halfway stripped off before he stopped and snagged her gaze. "I don't have pajamas. If you're the blushing sort, you might want to look away."

Yeah, right. She was about a hundred percent certain her eyes had no intention of cooperating with that suggestion. She didn't even fight it. Katelyn watched his reflection. A not-so-cheap thrill. And had the privilege of seeing him toss that shirt aside. At least a dozen muscles flexed in his arms and chest as they responded to the simple gesture.

A simple gesture that caused her mouth to go dry.

Mercy.

She forced herself to finish brushing her teeth and even looked away when his pants came off. Well, briefly looked away. She thanked her lucky stars that he kept on a pair of dark blue boxers.

"Will this temporary housekeeping arrangement cause any personal problems for you?" he asked.

"If that's a subtle way of asking me if I'm involved with anyone, the answer's no." It made her sound like a social leper. Which wasn't really that far off the mark. Rather than remind him that most men weren't turned on by a woman packing a badge and a couple of Glocks, Katelyn went for levity. "My last boyfriend was a sex therapist who broke up with me because he said I was too aggressive in bed."

She paused a heartbeat before she let their gazes connect again. Yep. The startled look on his face had been worth it. "It's a joke," she let him know.

Other than a slight sound of amusement, that was his only other reaction. So much for levity. When she went into the bedroom, he strolled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Actually, my last boyfriend was an accountant who broke up with me because he said I was too wrapped up in my job," she confessed and climbed into bed. "Hard to make someone feel even remotely important when you're never around. He got fed up and left me for a kindergarten teacher."

Still no response.

"How about you?" she asked.

"No one current." He came out of the bathroom, and she made a point of looking away. She'd already overdosed on his great bod. No need for more. "The last woman in my life was a kindergarten teacher who left me for an accountant."

Okay. So that broke the ice that had already been thawing between them. She laughed. Then bit her lip so she wouldn't laugh again.

She aimed her finger at him. "Let's get something straight. I don't want to like you, Rico."

He leaned over as if to kiss her good-night, letting his mouth come very close to hers. Breath met breath. And then he turned off the light. "I agree completely."

She lay there silently cursing him. But not for long. His head had hardly hit the pillow on the floor before the phone rang. Since it was supposed to be her apartment, Katelyn rolled to the side of the bed and answered it.

"It's me," she heard her brother say.

"Garrett, just the man I wanted to talk to."

Joe must have felt the same because he pressed the speaker function on the phone. Probably because he wanted to hear anything official. But the official part would have to wait.

"Thanks for the expert packing job," she tossed out at Garrett. "You do know this'll cost you in slow painful ways you can't even imagine?"

"I'm trembling in my Doc Martens." But the sarcasm wasn't nearly strong enough, and it didn't come close to masking his concern. "I'll drop by in the morning, pretending to deliver breakfast. Anything I can bring you?"

"You mean other than Starbucks and some real clothes?" Katelyn inquired cautiously, feeling him out.

"Yeah. Other than that."

Heck. He was placating her.

Never a good sign.

"What about you, Rico? You need anything?" Garrett asked.

Mercy. He'd moved from placating to being nice.

"No, thanks," Joe let him know. "I've got some things in the trunk of my car."

Garrett paused. Never a good sign, either. "So the plan is for you two to pick up Katelyn's car in the morning and then not come up for air again until it's time to announce your engagement at Perfect Match on Thursday?"

"Great summary." But Katelyn had reached her threshold for beating around the bush. "Spill it, Garrett. What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, exactly." Yet another hesitation. "Someone's digging through the fake files we created for your covers."

"We expected that," Joe pointed out. He sat up in his sleeping bag, leaning back against the side of the mattress.

"Yeah, but I didn't expect them to go at it this way. It's sloppy. Damn sloppy. And that slop leads right to Merrick. It makes me uncomfortable."

Katelyn knew exactly how he felt. Merrick might be a killer, but from all accounts he was smart. If the cyber trail led to him, then it was probably because someone wanted them to think Merrick had done it.

Bruce Donovan, maybe?

Of course, there was also the angle that by being sloppy, Merrick was giving himself a very convincing out.

"If he's that smart," Katelyn mumbled. "We're in serious trouble."

"Yeah," Garrett agreed.

Joe glanced at her. He had that did-I-miss-something? look. At least she thought that's what that glance was about until he shrugged. "I don't care how smart Merrick is. If he's making these sloppy searches to cover the fact he's the sniper, we'll still stop him."

Well, they were all on the same page. Interesting. Most outsiders, including fellow cops, had trouble following Garrett's and her thought processes.

"There's more," Garrett continued. "It sucks, so brace yourself. I got a call from an editor friend at the Express News. There'll be a story about the two shootings in the morning paper. They're linking them."

"We knew this was coming," Katelyn offered.

"An article, yeah. But there'll be photos. Some apparently taken at the icebreaker tonight. There'll be one with Rico and you kissing."

Okay. So they hadn't known about this.

Judas.

A photo.

"Supposedly, it's a grainy shot, and you're in a lip lock, but still…" Garrett's explanation trailed off, leaving them with the general idea that this was not a good thing.

"How'd they get the photo?" Joe asked.

"Addison Merrick. He takes stills from the security feed. For some reason, he gave the press a couple of them when they came around sniffing for a story about two hours ago."

And because she and Joe had signed those consent forms, it was all perfectly legal.

"He's suspicious," Katelyn mumbled.

"It could be a ploy to get you to back off," Garrett suggested. "Because something like this darn sure wouldn't be good for business."

"Or maybe he's going for another sloppy tactic so he can cover his butt," Joe contributed. "The real killer probably wouldn't give up photos of potential victims, but a ruthless businessman trying to get some free publicity might." He cursed. "Or a killer who wanted to appear to be an honest businessman might."

Neither Garrett nor she disagreed with him.

"This changes nothing," Joe insisted a moment later. "We'll stick with the plan and lay low here until Thursday afternoon when we'll make a return visit to Perfect Match. If the photo's clearer than expected, or if it causes any unwanted press, then I'll deal with it."

"You do that," Garrett fired back.

Katelyn huffed because she understood that tone. It was his brotherly warning for her to be careful.

"I'm not stupid," she responded. Katelyn reached over and hung up.

Joe gave her another of those looks, except this time she was fairly sure he was puzzled. "He's worried about us," she interpreted.

And apparently, with reason.

The game had just escalated from dangerous to deadly. But then, Katelyn had known from day one that it was an inevitable escalation. Playing the killer's deadly game was the only way to stop him.

* * *

A LOUD RINGING sound jarred Joe from the dream to beat all dreams. He snapped to a sitting position and groped for the phone, the alarm or whatever the hell was making the noise so he could stop it.

Katelyn cursed, a couple of phrases worthy of the awful racket. However, her profanity clipped off unexpectedly about a split second after she latched on to her gun and fell off the bed.

She landed right on him.

His hands were suddenly filled with her. A warm, firm, armed woman who smelled like a strange mixture of sex and gunmetal. Her eyes were still ripe with sleep, and she blinked several times, staring at him as if trying to figure out how she'd gotten in his lap.

Katelyn obviously wasn't a morning person, either.

Thankfully, the noise stopped so Joe could get his bearings. It didn't take long, especially when he realized her fall had aligned their bodies in the best, and worst, possible ways. She was straddling him, her long athletic legs resting against the sides of his hips.

And he had an erection.

It was a product of the dream he'd been having. About her. She noticed it. But then, it would have been impossible not to notice.

"One of the advantages of being a woman," she mumbled, her gaze drifting in the direction of where he was certainly testing the limits of his boxers. "We don't wear our…hearts on our sleeves."

"Smart-ass," he tossed back, because frankly he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Laughing lazily, she climbed off him. Staggered. And would have probably landed in his lap again if he hadn't caught her. Specifically, her left butt cheek. Not the particular part of her anatomy he'd wanted to grab, but it was either that or risk having accidental sex with her.

Joe was certain he didn't want that to happen.

Well, almost certain, anyway.

"I think it was the doorbell." Katelyn glanced at the clock. "Seven forty-five. It has to be Garrett. If he doesn't have coffee with him, he's a dead man."

Joe got to his feet, somehow, and fought through the haze still in his head. When the buzzing sound started again, he realized she was right. It was the doorbell. And yep, it was probably Garrett. Still, Joe wasn't about to take any chances. He pulled on his pants, grabbed his gun and headed into the living room.

"Be careful," she whispered unnecessarily.

He would. No amount of fatigue or dream remnants would cause him to do away with standard procedures. Joe eased against the wall, moving slowly. Quietly. Keeping away from the door, he lifted the blinds a fraction and peeked out.

Not Garrett.

"It's Bruce Donovan," Joe let her know.

She already had her gun, but that caused her to assume a defensive position. No more ripe sleepy blinks or lazy laughter. She morphed into the cop.

Joe took another look outside. Donovan appeared to be holding some papers and wasn't visibly armed.

Which didn't mean anything.

Donovan was the type to carry concealed.

"Back me up," Joe reminded her.

Using the door to hide his gun, Joe opened it. Not a fraction, either. He might need the extra space if he had to fire.

"Yeah?" he greeted Donovan. Not nicely, either.

Surprise went through Donovan's eyes, and when he tried to speak, he fumbled his words. Definitely not the slick player he'd portrayed the night before at the icebreaker.

"I wanted to drop these off for Kate," Donovan said, offering the papers to Joe. "It's a copy of the release form she signed and the questionnaire she originally filled out. I thought she'd like them for her personal records. Oh, and here's the newspaper. It was on this side of the stairs so I figured it was hers."

Joe took the items with his left hand so he could still hold on to his gun. "This couldn't wait until later?"

Donovan shrugged. "I was headed to work to get an early start and decided to drop it off on my way."

"Right." The apartment wasn't on the way to Perfect Match. Donovan was checking on them. Now, the real question was why. Was it because he was the killer, or because he'd planned to hit on Katelyn again?

If it was the latter, the man had a death wish.

One more attempt by Donovan to grope her breasts, and Katelyn would almost certainly go after him. And Joe would stand back and let her.

"So are you off from work today or what?" Donovan asked.

"I decided to take a little vacation time."

"From your freelance journalism job?" Donovan paused as if waiting for Joe to confirm that. Joe didn't. "I'm the one who ran your computer matches. Personally, I figured you'd go for the blond speech therapist, but then I didn't know about your past history with Kate."

It seemed like a good idea just to nod. For a man on a delivery mission, Donovan was asking a lot of questions and providing a lot of unnecessary information.

Joe heard Katelyn move around behind him, but he had no idea what she was up to until she ducked under his arm and snuggled against him. She'd stripped off her pajama bottoms, tousled her hair around her face, and with the top that hit her at mid-thigh, she looked as if she'd just finished up a thoroughly satisfying round of sex. And was ready for round two.

"Kate." Donovan attempted a smile and failed.

"Morning, Mr. Donovan. It's early." She slid her left arm around Joe's waist, and with her right hand, she pressed her gun directly against the back side of the door. She aimed it at Donovan. With that Glock, she'd easily be able to shoot through the thick wood if necessary.

Donovan tipped his head to the forms he'd just given to Joe. "I decided to drop off those."

"I heard."

Her tone conveyed no interest whatsoever, and she eased her left hand slightly lower. From Joe's waist and just into his pants—which he hadn't gotten around to zipping fully. She rubbed her fingers gently over the muscles that led directly to his groin. It wasn't just an intimate gesture. It was a sexually charged one.

"Thanks," she added to Donovan.

There was a definite "get lost" at the end of it. For extra measure, she put her mouth against Joe's ear, mumbled a seriously raunchy suggestion that involved them naked on the kitchen table. She issued a goodbye, shut the door in their visitor's face and locked it.

"If Donovan had any doubts about us being lovers," Katelyn whispered as she took her hand from his pants, "he doesn't now."

No. The charade was about good as it could get. Maybe even a little too good.

Man.

Joe stood there for a moment and tried to get his lungs to work.

How the devil was he supposed to handle three and a half more days of this?

While he was staving off another erection, she took the newspaper from him, tore off the plastic wrapper and sank onto the sofa.

"Good news. We didn't make the front page." A moment later, she groaned. "But we made the second."

Katelyn held it up for him. There were three small black and white photos accompanying the article entitled Dying For Love? Theirs was in the center, and even though they were practically wrapped around each other, Katelyn's face was visible.

And clear.

Too clear.

"No," she snarled, looking directly at him. She tossed the paper aside and practically charged at him. "You're not taking me off this case."

"Your cover might have been compromised," Joe pointed out.

"Might is the operative word there. But if you pull me now, it'll take weeks to create another cover—if that's even possible at this point. I won't let innocent people die because there's a possibility that someone could identify me from that photo."

In addition to her hand, the woman certainly knew where to aim her arguments. Joe didn't want anyone else dying, either—including her.

"Please," she added.

That cost her. No doubt about it. It was as close to begging as Katelyn O'Malley probably ever got, and it had to have stung her pride for him to be the recipient of that request.

Joe groaned, knowing how this would play out. "I would attach a condition or two—something along the lines of insisting you follow orders and don't improvise—but I won't bother."

"Does that mean you won't cut me from the case?"

He nodded, after making her wait a couple of seconds. "Not unless I have definite proof that your cover's been blown. And don't you dare smile, O'Malley, because you know I just handed you a gift."

No smile. Not even close. But he did see a lot of relief on her face. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

Wrong.

He already did. A lot. But for better or worse, Katelyn was his best shot at stopping another murder.

God help them.

Chapter Seven

"Dr. Kent's interview is about to start," Joe called out. "You were right. He lawyered up."

Katelyn hurriedly applied a slathering of some pale raspberry lipstick that her mother had packed and gave her skirt-suit a quick adjustment. The short mocha outfit wouldn't have been her first choice for a return visit to Perfect Match to announce her "engagement," but it was either that or a cherry-red slip dress she hadn't worn since college.

Heaven knows what Garrett had told their mother about this particular assignment, but it was obvious the woman believed Katelyn needed to show some leg. Maybe she'd seen the photo of Joe in the paper. That meant at their regular family Sunday brunch, Katelyn would have to do some damage control before her folks started planning a real wedding.

When she joined him in the kitchen, Joe already had the laptop opened on the table, and even though he had his attention fixed on the screen, he was also putting on his shoes. Unlike her semi-sex-kitten attire, he'd gone for the brooding businessman look. Dark blue pants and a matching button-down shirt. Since his coat was draped over the chair, that likely meant he'd be using it again to camouflage his shoulder holster.

"Did you ever meet Dr. Kent?" he asked.

"No. Never had the honor. Gail and he weren't married that long."

While she poured them both cups of coffee, she studied the video feed of the man who'd once been her friend's husband. Kent's expensive Italian suit was perfect. Ditto for his bronze-colored hair. But those eyes were all barracuda.

"Gail's mom and I use the same hairdresser," Katelyn continued. The coffee was hours old, bitter and way too strong, but she gulped it down anyway so she could have her caffeine fix. "According to her, Kent liked to play mind games, and he was always ragging on Gail, always taking shots at her self-esteem. He fought the divorce for months before finally giving in."

"Maybe he didn't give in after all," Joe commented with a shrug.

Yes. And because of that bitter divorce they'd added Dr. Allen Kent to the top of their list of murder suspects and had spent much of the previous day going through his background check.

Well, doing that and trying to avoid each other.

The close quarters weren't exactly conducive to avoidance, especially since they had to share the same computer, same reports, same bedroom and same bathroom. But they'd both done their best to keep the other at arm's length. In between that arm's length, however, the air kept crackling between them.

Katelyn sipped her coffee and tried to push that uncomfortable realization aside.

"Did Kent say why he wasn't available for an interview yesterday?" she asked.

"He claimed he couldn't rearrange his schedule."

Claimed was right. He likely wanted to discuss strategy with his lawyer before voluntarily coming to police headquarters for questioning. In fact, it was her guess that the lawyer by Kent's side had used a good portion of that extra twenty-four hours to coach his client as to exactly what to say.

And what not to say.

After all, Kent wasn't just linked to Merrick. He was linked to the murdered bride. That would have caused a tense moment or two for an attorney.

Detective Dawn Davidson was the officer doing the interview. Under different circumstances, Katelyn would have asked that Garrett do it, but since he'd been at the apartment twice in the past twenty-four hours, Joe decided it was an unnecessary risk to take. Even though her brother had worn a delivery man's disguise, if someone had been carefully watching the place—like Dr. Kent, for example—he might have been able to make the connection.

Davidson started with the basics and just as Joe suggested, she mentioned the remote possibility that the shootings were somehow loosely associated with clients from the Perfect Match Agency. For good measure, she even hinted at the article that had appeared in the newspaper the day before. Then, Dawn went in for the bull's-eye and asked Kent about his relationship with Addison Merrick.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss anything regarding a patient," he crisply assured her. "If that's why I'm here, then you're wasting my time."

"As slick as slime," Katelyn mumbled. "No wonder Gail divorced him."

"So Mr. Merrick is your patient?" Dawn commented. But she didn't wait for him to verify it. "He was vague about that yesterday when we questioned him."

Ah, now there was a reaction. Kent's aristocratic mouth tightened for a fraction of a second. Now the trick was to decide if that gesture meant he was riled about the detective's got-ya comment or Merrick's vagueness during questioning. A vagueness that would obviously make the police wonder why Merrick felt a reason to hold back information.

"It's good to see him squirm," Joe said, glancing at her. The glance turned into a double take, just as he'd done with her pj's that first night. Katelyn resisted the urge to adjust her skirt again. No matter how much she tugged and pulled, the fabric wasn't going to stretch.

Thankfully, Dawn got his attention off the skirt when she continued the interrogation. The detective went through the other questions, but they were window dressing, since it wasn't Kent's actual responses they were interested in but the way he reacted. Dawn played her part to a tee. And she made just enough eye contact and kept the right inflection in her voice to let Kent know that he was indeed a suspect. When she finished, Kent didn't waste any time getting out of there.

Joe didn't waste any time, either. He grabbed his phone and pressed a few buttons. A moment later, Katelyn heard Dawn's own phone ring on the audio feed of the computer. "Have him followed," Joe ordered when Dawn answered. "Not closely though. And I don't want him approached so he can claim harassment."

He ended the call, clipped the tiny cell phone to his belt and got up. "After I shave, we'll leave for the Perfect Match."

Katelyn almost told him that she'd prefer if he skipped that particular grooming step, but then she'd have to explain why. There was already enough male-female stuff going on between them without her letting him know that she'd liked his stubbled look.

While she put on her slide holster and checked the communicator she'd threaded under her collar, her gaze landed on the papers Joe had left on the table. Specifically, her questionnaire, which Donovan had dropped off the previous morning. It was opened to page three, the section that dealt with her preferences for leisure activities.

Had Joe been reading it?

If so, did he have any idea that the answers were true?

Katelyn didn't allow her ridiculous, hormone-induced speculations to go beyond that. After all, there were probably dozens of legitimate reasons why Joe would be reading her file.

Too bad none of those dozens of legitimate reasons readily came to mind.

Curious now, she sat at the computer and did a search to find his file. Within a couple of seconds, she'd pulled up the bogus information the department had created for him. She went one step beyond that, and with her password, she located his official record.

She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the bedroom, to make sure he wasn't watching. He wasn't. From the sound of his electric razor, he was in the bathroom still ridding himself of his sexy stubble.

His official photo loaded, as did the rest of the info. Joseph Luis Rico. He was thirty-two. A military brat. Two brothers, a sister. He'd lived all over the world until his eighteenth birthday, when he'd left for college and then the police academy.

"Wow," Katelyn mumbled when she glanced through the list of his awards and recognitions. He had a slew of them, including one from the governor. Those accolades accounted for not just one early promotion but two. He was a supercop by anyone's standards.

But she hadn't needed a file to tell her that.

A notation near the bottom caught her eye. Just a month before his transfer to S.A.P.D., he'd taken leave, and the code beside it was one she recognized. Whatever had generated that time off required a clean psych evaluation before he could return to the job. Interesting. He'd either killed someone in the line of duty or else the leave was of a particularly stressful, personal nature.

"Find anything?" she heard him ask.

Busted.

Katelyn didn't even try to hide it. Not that she could have anyway since his picture was right there on the screen. Instead, she pushed her questionnaire, still opened to page three, to the side so he'd know this was a tit for tat kind of invasion of privacy.

As opposed to just a plain ordinary invasion.

"You lived in England for three years," she commented. "When your father was stationed there."

"You run a six-minute mile," he countered. "While listening to Axl Rose."

Not to be outdone, she continued with, "Your brothers are both Air Force Combat Rescue Officers."

"Your mother and father were both cops."

Frowning, she swiveled around in the chair. "That wasn't on the questionnaire."

"No, but it was in your personnel file." His gaze drifted to her clothes, and her legs. "Nice skirt."

Katelyn was sure her frown deepened. "Is that a ploy to get me to forget you were in my file?"

"No. It's a ploy to let you off the hook for snooping in mine." He set a small black velvet box in her lap, right on her skirt. "If you want to know something about me, Katelyn, just ask."

She would have questioned him about that personal leave, but the box suddenly captured her complete attention. It was the right size and the right shape. Well, depending on one's perspective, it was right. It was not so right from her perspective. "Is that what I think it is?"

"It is if you think it's an engagement ring." He proceeded to fix his communicator under his collar. "We need it for the announcement."

Okay. So those two simple words, engagement ring, shouldn't have sent her stomach into a tailspin, but they did. Jeez, it was such a girl reaction. And for nothing, since it was all show anyway.

Katelyn opened the box as if it were live explosives and came face-to-face not with some gaudy lifestyle statement but rather a tastefully delicate diamond set in beautifully etched gold. Definitely a wow.

"It looks real," she mumbled.

"It is. It belonged to my grandmother."

"Oh, sheez." His grandmother's? Could this possibly get any more uncomfortable? "I can't wear something like that."

"Sure you can. Well, provided it fits." He took it from the box and slipped it onto her finger. No fanfare. No awkward pause to ponder the moment. Certainly no romantic words or gazes.

It fit.

"Okay, let's go," he ordered.

He would have probably been out the door if his phone hadn't rung. Katelyn grabbed her purse while he answered it. As she moved the meager sunlight slanting through the windows caught the facets of the diamond and sent a rainbow dancing around the room. She turned the ring around so it wouldn't happen again.

She needed rainbows about as much as she needed a real engagement to Joe Rico.

"Did he?" Joe asked.

But it wasn't a casual inquiry. Like the ring box, it snared Katelyn's attention and caused her to tune in to his conversation.

"No. No change in plans," he continued. He hung up and looked at her. "Guess where Dr. Kent's headed?"

"Perfect Match?" Katelyn repeated the words and took out the questioning inflection. Of course, that's where Kent would go. He wanted answers as to why Merrick had brought him into this investigation. And that meant if they hurried, they had the opportunity to hear what Merrick was saying to his shrink. A way to kill two birds with one stone.

Joe paused and combed his gaze over her. "You're sure Kent won't recognize you?"

"Positive."

Well, not positive, exactly. She had no idea if Gail had ever shown Kent her photo, but she couldn't let a mere possibility hold her back now. If Donovan was at work, it would be the first time they'd have their three primary suspects under the same roof. It was perhaps the break they'd been looking for.

Or maybe it would be the very confrontation to make a killer snap.

Katelyn checked her primary and backup weapons to make sure she was ready.

* * *

AS THEY'D PLANNED on the trip over, Katelyn lured the receptionist from her desk with a bogus emergency request for her to show her the location of the ladies' room. Joe used the ploy to walk past the other clients who were filling out questionnaires so he could slip unannounced into the hall that led to Merrick's office. Since Dr. Kent wasn't around, that meant he was probably already in there with Merrick.

Along the way, Joe looked for the security guard and cameras to make sure he hadn't missed one. No guard today, and the only camera he spotted was the one in the reception area. It had obviously supplied the photo for the newspaper article and could still possibly be monitoring the hall. So he plastered a silly grin on his face while he was trying to eavesdrop. Best to keep up the facade of the happily engaged man.

Unlike Kent. Who didn't sound happy at all. The man was practically shouting. Joe heard him when he was still several yards from Merrick's office door. Not very shrinklike behavior. Rather, Kent seemed to be in the middle of a Prozac-required moment.

"But why even mention my name?" Kent snarled.

Thankfully they'd left the door slightly ajar. Joe saw Merrick shake his head. "I'm not sure I did."

"But you must have. Jesus H. Christ, Addison, these people think you might know something about those two shootings. Why would you purposely let them believe you're unstable by telling them you were in therapy?"

Another head shake. This one more frantic than the first. "I swear, I don't think your name even came up in conversation. And they don't suspect me. They can't. They said their visit was just routine."

Katelyn emerged from the other end of the hall, which meant she'd found a way to the office without going back past the receptionist. She puckered her lips in a shh gesture and quietly walked to him. One glance at the camera in the reception room, and she stepped into Joe's arms. But she didn't just step. She immediately launched into her lover's pose. She pressed her body against Joe's and brushed a kiss on his jaw.

"Routine?" Kent repeated. "There's nothing routine about a police interrogation. Please tell me your lawyer was here when you spoke to them."

"No." Merrick paled a little. "I didn't think it was necessary."

"Well, from now on, it is. I can't afford to have my name dragged through the mud again."

Again? Since Joe had spent hours pouring through Kent's file, he thought that reference might be for his messy divorce from Gail. It appeared to have cost Kent a client or two. And a small fortune.

After delivering a terse goodbye, Kent turned and stormed out. He paused when he spotted Joe and gave him only a dismissive glance. Kent might have done the same to Katelyn if she hadn't buried her face against Joe's neck.

Definitely not good.

"I thought you said he wouldn't recognize you?" Joe whispered when Kent was out of earshot.

She shook her head. "He didn't."

Which, of course, didn't answer his question at all.

"Why are you here?" Merrick asked. He was staring at them through the now fully opened door.

"We'd like to talk to you." Joe made sure he grinned. Katelyn did her part by sliding her body against his. Well, it was a little more than just a slide. She hooked her fingers onto his belt—and into the waist of his pants. "We have great news."

Merrick mumbled something indistinguishable, sighed and shoved both his hands through his hair. "Give me a couple of minutes." And to make sure he had that time to himself, he shut the door.

Joe clicked off his communicator, checked to make sure hers was off as well and looked down at her. "Put your hands in my pants this time, and I'll take you where you stand."

Katelyn didn't look quite as shocked as he'd hoped. In fact, she didn't look shocked at all. She looked, well, interested. And disgusted with herself for showing that interest.

Joe knew exactly how she felt.

"We're in trouble here, Rico." She added a shake of her head to his disgusted expression. "Because I swear that sounded more like foreplay than a threat."

He fought, hard, to hold on to what little composure he had left. "I really didn't need to hear that, okay?"

"You're right." Another headshake. She huffed and glanced at Merrick's closed door. Like Joe, she was probably hoping the man would open it. Soon. It might save Katelyn and him both from doing something he'd almost certainly regret.

"Besides, it's just all this forced intimacy that's making us think like this," she mumbled. She even repeated a slightly different variation of it as if trying to convince herself.

Again, Joe knew exactly how she felt.

"We just have to remember that the kissing and touching are fake," she concluded.

But Joe wasn't ready to conclude things just yet. He had one point of contention left. "Including the part where you put your hand in my pants?"

"Would I do something like that just for amusement?" But she waved him off. "Don't answer that. For our own sanity, let's just say everything, and I mean everything, we've done for the past couple of days has been an act."

It was the right thing to say. The right thing, period. She'd given them both a much-needed out. That's why Joe couldn't understand why he didn't take that out.

Instead, he slid his hand around the back of her neck and dragged her to him. Not that he had to drag her far.

She was already so close he could almost taste her.

So that's exactly what he decided to do. He lowered his head and took her mouth as if it were his for the taking.

* * *

THE JOLT WAS INSTANT.

No cool, gentle touch of lips. Not this. This was all fire. All pleasure. All silk and heat. Not that Katelyn expected anything less from Joe, and that made it all the more dangerous.

Did it stop her?

No.

One jolt from his mouth and she was beyond a place where reason and stopping made sense. Instead, she took. She let him claim. Ravage. And just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any better, or worse, he upped the ante with the mating of their tongues. The intimate joining of their mouths. The warmth of their bodies sliding against each other, practically fighting to get closer, to touch more.

To feel more.

It was as close to sex as they could get without clothing removal.

He made a sound. A groan of breath that was male through and through. And possibly the most erotic sound she'd ever heard.

Katelyn felt the world tilt on its axis.

This was wrong. So wrong. But everything about it seemed right.

She forced herself to back off. And she almost lost that battle. Somehow though, she got her mouth to move from his. It took another moment before she got it to speak.

"That wasn't for show," she informed him. A really dumb thing to say, but what the heck? It was hard to beat the mother of all dumb things—that kiss.

"I figured that out by myself." He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "We can't do it again though because it…felt better than it should have."

You bet it did. And not only that. It felt better than it should have while they were standing only yards away from a murder suspect.

A suspect who opened the door.

Chapter Eight

Katelyn put on the best fake smile she could manage, and while easing her right hand to her slide holster, she flashed her engagement ring at Merrick.

"Joe and I are getting married." She added some excitement to her tone, as well, and she didn't totally have to fake that part. There was excitement racing through her all right, and it wasn't all related to that kiss Joe had just laid on her. There was something downright spooky about the way Merrick was acting.

Was the man about to go psycho on them?

Joe must have considered that as well because he too adjusted his position so it would be easier for him to get to his weapon.

"Congratulations are in order," Merrick finally said after a silence that was too long and much too uncomfortable. "Come this way. We'll celebrate."

Katelyn didn't relax yet. Hopefully, celebrating was all he had in mind. She stayed side by side with Joe as they started down the hall toward the reception area.

"Say, wasn't that Dr. Allen Kent who just left your office?" Joe asked, sounding remarkably casual.

There was nothing casual, however, about Merrick's response. From over his shoulder, he gave Joe a chilly, "Yes."

Katelyn ignored the frosty tone since they needed more info from him than that solo affirmative. "Wow. He's practically a local celebrity. I'm in therapy, you know. In fact, my therapist thinks I've gone off the deep end by getting engaged to Joe. But I know it's the right thing to do. That's why we don't want to wait." She paused only long enough to draw breath. "Wonder what Dr. Kent would have to say about that?"

It was a weak attempt to get Merrick to open up. And an unsuccessful one. He didn't say a word about therapy or Dr. Kent. But his silence told her loads. That shouting session with Kent had upset him, no doubt about it, but he was keeping it inside for the most part. No fists through walls. No profanity. A still-waters-run-deep kind of person.

So how would a man like that kill?

Would he gun down happy brides and grooms because his own fiancée had crushed his hopes of having an equally happy life? If so, how could Joe and she stop him from trying to kill again?

As those questions ran through her head, Merrick paused at one of the doors. Knocked once. And opened it. Bruce Donovan was seated at a desk littered with computers and other equipment.

"We need champagne," Merrick advised him. "Meet us in reception."

Katelyn's gaze connected with Donovan's. His disapproving gaze. Definitely not a still-waters kind of guy. She made a mental note not to sample the champagne in case he decided to poison it.

"Something tells me they've done this before," Joe muttered to her as they watched Merrick assemble an impromptu celebration.

Their host motioned for the four other clients and the receptionist to join them. They did. The clients put their questionnaires aside. Donovan appeared with the champagne and a stack of plastic fluted glasses. Merrick popped the cork and began to pour.

"So a lot of your matched couples get engaged?" Joe asked Merrick.

He lifted a shoulder. "Some."

Katelyn pressed for more. "I'll bet you keep press releases and such of your success stories."

"Not really." And with that, Merrick stepped away to pour more champagne.

"Okay, what's wrong with this picture?" Joe whispered to her. He slipped his arm around her and launched into a mock cuddling session so they could continue their discussion without being overheard.

"The clients," Katelyn immediately offered. "I was alone in here the day I did my questionnaire. How about you?"

"Me and one very old guy."

These people weren't old or even socially desperate-looking. They were young and practically buzzing with energy.

Katelyn bit off a groan. "They don't appear to be drunk or high so that probably means they read the article in the newspaper."

"Adrenaline junkies," Joe added.

A moment later, one of the female clients confirmed that. Katelyn heard her talking almost breathlessly about the possible link to the sniper. Isn't it soooo scary?

Great. Sickos. Just what they didn't need to blend with the rifle-firing sicko they already had. However, it did give Katelyn something else to consider. The shootings had perhaps boosted business. A business that had recently been sagging. Merrick couldn't have been unhappy about that particular side effect, but was he smart enough, calculating enough, to have known it would happen?

Because Katelyn had her attention on the group, she didn't miss the nudge Donovan gave his boss. Merrick turned, aiming his gaze in the direction of the reception doorway.

The still waters became a little turbulent.

Katelyn followed his narrowed gaze to a tall, attractive brunette. A woman she recognized because she'd studied her file and accompanying photos.

Fiona Shipley.

"I see her," Joe whispered.

"Just the person we've been looking for."

From the look on Merrick's face, he didn't feel the same. He handed off the champagne bottle to Donovan, whispered something terse and then stormed straight for the woman. Fortunately, one of the other clients stopped him, but that diversion wouldn't last long. Katelyn could tell from the look in Merrick's eyes that one way or another, he intended to get Fiona out of here.

"We'll intervene and talk to her," Joe insisted.

"Something tells me she won't go for the let's-be-gal-pals ploy. You need to put some moves on her before Merrick whisks her away."

Joe's eyebrow lifted. "Moves?"

She nodded. "Trust me, you've got some good ones." Great ones, in fact. The kiss had proven that.

He didn't seem flattered. "I don't guess Fiona will consider those moves bottom-feeding gestures since I just announced my engagement to you?"

"Let's hope not. You occupy Fiona, and I'll take care of Merrick. Maybe I can put him in a more talkative mood and learn the names of any recently engaged Perfect Match couples."

Joe caught her arm when she tried to step away. "Please tell me you're not going to try to rile him enough so he'll come after you."

Katelyn tried to look offended. "You think I'd do that?"

"Yeah, I do," he said without hesitation.

If it wouldn't have blown the lovebird facade, she would have scowled at him. "Are you saying divide and conquer's not a good idea?"

Several muscles stirred in his jaw, a definite sign he agreed with her plan but probably wouldn't approve of her methods. "You've got ten minutes max," he finally said. "Get everything you can from him. I'll do the same to Fiona. Just don't shake things up too much, okay?"

This time, it was Katelyn who stopped. "I'll say the same to you. Fiona's the one with a hostile history, not Merrick."

In fact, this divide and conquer investigative approach suddenly didn't seem like a good idea. Even more, Katelyn didn't want to explore why it occurred to her that it wasn't good.

Judas.

She was worried about Joe.

A man who could clearly take care of himself.

"Are you about to quote regulations about approaching a potentially violent suspect without proper backup?" Joe asked.

"You wish."

He stared at her several long seconds, and cursed. "It's about that kiss?"

She nodded. "Probably."

But when she repeated that to herself, it didn't seem so much like a probably as a definitely.

Praying she was wrong, Katelyn turned to head Merrick off at the pass.

* * *

JOE MADE IT to Fiona before Merrick did. Thanks to Katelyn. She latched on to Merrick and somehow brought him to a stop. God knows what she was saying to him, but she seemed to have captured his attention.

Fiona offered him a tentative smile when Joe approached her. The smile vanished when she glanced in Katelyn and Merrick's direction.

"Joe Farrell." He extended his hand, and she shook it. Not a delicate grip, either. She could probably hold her own in an arm wrestling competition.

"Fiona Shipley." She slid her gaze over him and up. "I haven't seen you in here before."

It was almost certainly a lie. She'd been watching the place the night of the icebreaker.

She moved slightly to the side, probably so she could keep her eye on Merrick. He did the same, angling his body so he could watch Katelyn. Since she was the only redhead in the room, she made a great visual target. The skirt helped, too. She had the best pair of legs in the room.

Maybe the world.

And maybe he was still recovering from the effects of that kiss, because everything about her suddenly seemed damn incredible. Thankfully, she'd probably do something to rile him before the night was over. That would get his mind back where it belonged.

"So you know everyone here?" Joe asked Fiona. Not exactly chitchat, either. It was an opening to bring the subject around to Merrick, the man who was glancing in her direction as much as she was glancing in his.

"No. Just Bruce and Addison."

Joe skipped right past the Bruce part and went for the jugular. "Merrick's a friend of yours?"

She gave an unnecessary adjustment to her gold hoop earring. "Something like that."

In other words, nothing like that. She was either Merrick's former, present or even wannabe lover. With the way she kept eyeing Katelyn, it was highly likely that it wasn't the latter.

Interesting.

"How about you?" she asked. "Are you a new client, or are you with someone?"

"I'm with my fiancée, Kate." He pointed to Katelyn but made sure he only showed minimal interest in the woman whom he'd supposedly asked to be his wife. "Old flames reunited thanks to Perfect Match. Things happened pretty fast between us."

And he let Fiona fill in the blanks. Maybe she'd think he was having second thoughts. Or maybe she'd just think he was a bottom-feeder. Either way, she didn't seem turned off with the idea of an engaged man chatting her up. But then, maybe she was trying to make Merrick jealous. Or something. There were a lot of dynamics going on in the room, and not all of them were limited to Merrick and Fiona. Some of them were obviously happening between Katelyn and him.

Since Joe could feel his self-imposed time limit ticking away, he took a pen from the receptionist's desk and passed it to Fiona. He discreetly put out his hand, palm up. "In case things don't work out with Addison, or Kate, why don't you give me a number where I can reach you? I'd like to give you a call sometime."

That got Fiona's attention. Man, did it. She gave him several more once-overs, not exactly carnal ones, either. There was some disgust. Some loathing. Even a hot flash of anger in her eyes. That's why it surprised Joe when she scribbled some numbers on his hand.

That was it. No sultry invitations, no warm goodbyes. No explanations as to why she'd give a man her number when she obviously disliked him.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Addison." Fiona tossed the pen back on the desk and stepped away.

Merrick moved toward Fiona at the same time he left Katelyn and walked toward her. Merrick said something. Something harsh, judging from the way she reacted. She looked as if the man had slapped her. Then, she angled her eyes in Katelyn and Joe's direction. Merrick's gaze followed.

Oh, yeah. Merrick was definitely suspicious of them, and their latest round of unofficial questioning had probably made it worse.

Fiona gave Merrick a not-so-friendly glower, turned on her heel and headed for the door. Merrick aimed a similar facial expression at them and went in the opposite direction toward his office.

"Should we follow one of them?" Katelyn asked in a whisper.

"Not with that camera looming over us. We've already peaked their interest too much for one night." Way too much. "Did you learn anything new?"

"No. He's not flirtatious or chatty like Donovan." Katelyn glanced around the room. "Speaking of the devil, where is he?"

"He left not long after you started talking to Merrick."

She made a sound to indicate she didn't care for that. Neither did Joe.

"Maybe we should follow him instead?" she suggested.

"He went in the same direction as Merrick. Besides, we have this." Making sure he was out of camera angle, Joe flashed the number that Fiona had given him.

She blinked. "You got her number that fast?"

"Maybe. It could be a fake."

"Yeah, right. It's not a fake."

Joe wasn't sure if he should be complimented by that, but unfortunately it felt like a compliment.

"So what's the deal between Merrick and her?" Katelyn asked. "Are they involved?"

"That'd be my guess. It's also my guess that one or both isn't too happy about that."

"Merrick, maybe. It might explain why he had the guard here the night of the icebreaker. Maybe he wanted to keep her away from the place."

"It's possible. Merrick certainly wasn't happy to see her. I'll call her tomorrow and see if I can arrange to meet her somewhere."

"With proper backup, correct?" Katelyn whispered.

Since it didn't sound even remotely sarcastic, he stared at her. "Why this sudden fixation with backup?"

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "I don't know. There's this little buzz in the back of my head. It's making me antsy."

"Then obviously it's a good time for us to get out of here. We'll come back tomorrow and invite them to the wedding."

After he called Fiona, of course. If he got lucky, that number would be real so he could continue their discussion.

They went out the door. Not alone, either. Two other clients were right behind them, and the woman was still chattering about Perfect Match's possible connection to the sniper. If the sniper had indeed been inside that reception room and heard her, it would have no doubt made him or her nervous.

Or maybe not.

Maybe that's exactly what the nutcase wanted. Publicity. Recognition. A moment in the spotlight, even if that moment meant people dying.

All four of them headed toward the parking lot. Unlike the night of the mixer, Joe hadn't managed to get a decent parking spot. They were almost a full block away. In the dark.

"So did you learn anything new when you talked to Fiona?" Katelyn whispered, presumably so that the couple behind them wouldn't hear. "Like maybe how many eyelashes she had? You probably had a chance to count them when she was fluttering them at you."

Joe geared up to give her a smart-ass comeback. The glint of movement stopped him. The glint he caught out of the corner of his eye.

But it was too late.

The shot rang out before he could get Katelyn out of the way.

* * *

KATELYN FELT the searing hot pain slice across her arm.

She ignored it and drew her weapon while she yelled for the couple to get down. They did, diving for cover behind a parked car. She latched on to Joe at the same moment he latched on to her, and they dragged each other to the ground.

It wasn't a second too soon.

Another bullet smashed into the building, into the exact spot where they'd been.

Katelyn couldn't take the time to berate herself, but she would sure as heck do it later. She should have paid more attention to that buzz in her head instead of dismissing it. And she darn sure shouldn't have been playing twenty questions with Joe about his encounter with Fiona Shipley.

Now that mistake might cost both of them their lives.

She checked the other couple. They were cowering, their hands protectively over their heads. All in all, it wasn't a bad position. The car would give them some measure of protection, but it wasn't the same for Joe and her. For all practical purposes, they were still out in the open.

"Let's move," Joe ordered.

Katelyn didn't waste any time. She got to her feet, and they scrambled for the narrow alley between the two buildings. He maneuvered them to the far side of an overflowing Dumpster, but it wasn't an ideal position either since bullets could go through the metal.

"Rico here," Joe said into his communicator. "We've got a shooter. Send backup to the outside perimeter of the area and await further orders."

The outside perimeter so that it wouldn't blow their cover. Not that it wouldn't anyway. But Joe was obviously hoping to salvage this mission and keep them alive.

Katelyn pulled in a few steadying breaths and glanced down at her arm. She saw the gashed fabric, and the blood. Nothing serious, she decided, but she angled her body so that Joe wouldn't notice it. He didn't need that kind of distraction now.

Another shot.

It slammed into the exterior wall and tore off a chunk of brick, sending mortar and dust flying through the air. Two more shots quickly followed, both of them gashing into the Dumpster and the wall just above their heads.

The bullets came close.

Too close. And the thought of them coming any closer set Katelyn's heart pounding.

She leaned forward slightly, trying to see if she could pinpoint the origin of those bullets so she could get off a shot.

"Don't even think about it," Joe snarled.

Katelyn started to argue, to remind him that she could return fire as well as he could, but that probably wasn't a good option anyway. The gunman clearly had an advantage, and if she moved away from cover to get a better shot, it would also leave her vulnerable. They were already too exposed as it was.

Still, that didn't stop Joe.

He aimed. And she knew that he was about to do something she'd already dismissed.

But then the shots stopped.

The waiting began.

Katelyn counted off the seconds, the quiet seconds, until she got to sixty. Joe grabbed her shoulder when she started to move and he put her right back against the wall. "Not yet." He took the end of his communicator and put it against his mouth. "Situation report."

"Additional officers are on the way," the backup officer responded.

Which meant the sniper was getting away.

Again!

Worse, it didn't exclude any of their suspects. Fiona, Merrick or Donovan could have left Perfect Match and sneaked into any of the multistory buildings across the street. For that matter, Kent could have done the same thing. He could have been lying in wait for them.

"Pick up Bruce Donovan, Dr. Kent, Addison Merrick and Fiona Shipley," Joe snarled into his communicator. "Bring them in. I want them all interrogated. And by God, they'd better have answers."

Chapter Nine

Katelyn shut the bathroom door and peeled off her top. Somehow, she'd managed to keep the streak of blood from Joe, but if she didn't get rid of the evidence, she wouldn't be able to keep it from him for long. Thankfully, he'd planted himself in the living room and was still immersed in the necessary calls and reports to headquarters.

"Judas," she mumbled looking down at the shallow but angry gash that the sniper's bullet had left on her arm.

The bleeding had already stopped, and it wasn't especially painful—okay, it did hurt—but what hurt even more was the realization that it could have been worse. Much worse. The gunman could have killed Joe, the other couple and her. It was a miracle that all she had to show for the encounter was a minor two-inch abrasion, some dried blood and a pair of shredded panty hose that she'd damaged when she dove down on the sidewalk.

She stuffed the top in the cabinet beneath the sink and while she was at it, she took off her panty hose to add them to the stash. She located a first aid kit in the medicine cabinet and got to work cleaning the wound. When she finished, Katelyn covered it with a bandage and slipped on a white cotton shirt, the only other long-sleeve garment her mother had included in the bag. Maybe the quick change in clothes wouldn't make Joe suspicious.

Or maybe it would.

He was standing right in front of her when she opened the door. He had his hands bracketed on each side of the frame, essentially blocking her path.

"Everything okay?" he asked. But it wasn't a simple question. There were some dangerous undercurrents in it.

"I'm fine."

Those now infamous jaw muscles went to work against each other. "Take off your shirt, or I'll take it off for you."

Oh.

"Does this mean you want to have sex?" Katelyn tried. But it was a lousy try. Anyone with half a brain would have known it wasn't sex on his mind. Not with that warlike expression.

He waited only a second or two before he reached out, grabbed the sides of her shirt and ripped it open. A few of the buttons merely gave way and slipped through the buttonholes. Others didn't. They landed with tiny bouncing pings on the tile floor.

His gaze raced over her body, and it obviously wasn't her lacy bra or her breasts that captured his interest. His attention quickly landed on the bandage.

Katelyn braced herself for him to rip the shirt right off her. But he didn't. His touch gentled and Joe eased it off her shoulder to expose her arm.

"It's not bad," she insisted.

He didn't take her word for it. Not surprising since he'd just caught her in a lie. With that same gentle touch, those same careful movements, he lifted the bandage.

And cursed.

The jaw muscles started again.

"How did you know I was hurt?" Katelyn asked. God, her voice actually cracked.

"There was blood on the sleeve of my jacket. It's not mine. I figured it had to be yours."

She shrugged. "And here I thought I'd contained my bodily fluids."

"This isn't funny!"

Because he looked ready to lose it, she ran her hand down the length of his arm. "It's nothing. I've gotten worse from shaving my legs."

He pressed the bandage back in place, gently, and skimmed his fingertips from it, across the top of her left breast and then to her heart. "Six inches in this direction, and the bullet wouldn't have grazed you. It would have killed you."

His gaze came to hers.

Unlike his touch, there was still no gentleness in those glacier-blue eyes, but Katelyn knew without a doubt if gentleness was what she needed, he could have easily provided it.

And he did.

Without moving his hand from her heart, Joe pulled her to him. Where she felt incredibly safe and warm.

Katelyn went with it, against her better judgment. Full-blown sex would have been far less of an intimate risk than this. But her better judgment and her resolve went south. Unable to hold back a shudder of breath, she rested her head against his shoulder and took things from him that she hadn't known she needed.

They stood there for heaven knows how long. Minutes, maybe. Perhaps longer. The rhythm of her heart seemed to fall into cadence with the pulse that throbbed in his wrist. And the world seemed to just melt away.

Until the doorbell rang.

Joe immediately stepped back, drawing his gun, and their tender moment ended.

"Wait here," he ordered.

"Right, and leave you without backup. Like I'm really going to do that."

Knowing she couldn't do much to fix the shirt, she shucked it off and put on one that Joe had left in the bedroom. Katelyn had her weapon drawn before he even made it to the door.

"It's your brother," Joe let her know.

Great. She didn't want to face Garrett now. "Don't say a word about the scratch," she warned in a whisper.

But she soon learned it wasn't Garrett when Joe opened the door and let him in.

It was Brayden.

Even worse.

He was part bloodhound and all cop, and he could sniff out problems a mile away. She made sure Joe's shirt covered the bandage before she joined the two men in the living room.

"I came by to check on you," Brayden greeted. He was dressed like a delivery man, but the disguise wasn't limited to just his clothes. He was carrying a white bag. "Dad sent some chili."

"Thanks." Katelyn took the bag, knowing she should dig in right away to prove all was right with the world, but her stomach wasn't quite ready for food. She set it on the table instead.

"You can do your initial reports on the computer," Brayden instructed. "But I'll still need you to do a face-to-face at headquarters. No way around that. We'll send a cruiser for you tomorrow so it'll look as if you're being brought in for questioning. In fact, we'll bring in all the people who were at Perfect Match tonight."

Brayden gave them both a considering glance and sat on the sofa. "Did either of you fire your weapons?"

"No," she quickly volunteered.

Joe stared at her.

Brayden paused, as if waiting to see what had caused that stare. "Any reason to think your cover's been compromised?" he asked, and Brayden directed that question at Joe.

Joe leaned against the narrow snack bar that divided the kitchen from the living room. "Hard to tell. Just about everyone in Perfect Match was talking about the shootings. And that other couple was walking right behind us. Maybe the sniper just wanted to make his or her presence known."

Brayden didn't say anything for several seconds. "Well, we're rounding up Bruce Donovan and hopefully Fiona Shipley for an interrogation, so maybe we'll know something soon. Fiona checked herself into a residential mental health clinic about an hour ago. Lots of freedom for her to go from one place to the other, but it doesn't give us a lot of access to her unless she's willing to grant us that access. Oh, and we learned that Donovan owns several hunting rifles so I went ahead and requested a search warrant."

"Good," Joe said.

Katelyn muttered an agreement as well, even though Donovan probably wasn't stupid enough to leave murder weapons lying around for the cops to find. Still, it'd prevent him from getting a good night's sleep—which would apparently be her fate, as well. Joe probably wouldn't drop that six inches over and you could have been killed discussion.

"You intend to continue with the present mission plan?" Brayden asked Joe.

Joe stared at her again. Katelyn stared back and tried to put the words in his mouth. Or rather the word. And that word was yes.

He didn't say yes.

But then he didn't say no, either.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Joe told her brother.

Brayden nodded. Made a sound of contemplation. Then looked at Joe. "Would you mind if I spoke to Katelyn in private?"

Another glare from Joe aimed in her direction, but this one had a tell him the truth warning in it. It was a warning she'd definitely ignore. Joe would thank her for it later, after they'd collared the sniper.

Her brother motioned for her to sit down the moment Joe left the room. "What's wrong?" Brayden asked.

She didn't sit, but put on her best butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth expression. "Why would you think anything's wrong?"

Brayden's eyebrow lifted.

So much for the nonmelting butter routine. That eyebrow was a very effective BS monitor. Still, it didn't stop her from going on the offensive. "What—being shot at isn't reason enough to make me cranky?"

His eyebrow stayed up. "You're wearing Sergeant Rico's shirt," he pointed out.

"Oh, that." Not that she'd thought for minute Brayden would miss something like that. However, since he'd broached the subject, Katelyn went with it. It might get him off the undercover assignment. "I'm not allowed to have a lover? Garrett is the wild child of the family, and you don't lecture him about it."

"Garrett doesn't sleep with his boss."

"My temporary boss," Katelyn corrected.

Brayden shook his head. Nothing overt. Just a simple gesture. "You know something I don't? Joe Rico's a sergeant in Homicide. You're a detective in the same department."

"For now, yes. But I figure he'll get promoted, and then he'll be moved." If not, then it might come down to her asking for a transfer, a thought that had her feeling a little nauseous. She'd worked hard to get into Homicide, damn hard, and she wouldn't just give that up. Well, unless there was no other way. Then she'd consider it.

Heaven help her.

"And I haven't actually slept with him," she said more to herself than her brother. "I've just been flirting with the idea. Lightly flirting with it. And even if something happened between us, it's not against the regs per se. It's just frowned upon because it could cause, well, morale problems." She added an indignant huff just because she'd delivered Brayden's lecture for him. "Is this why you came over? To grill me about my love life?"

He caught her wrist and sat her on the coffee table in front of him. "Quit being so defensive. I came to see if you were all right."

Katelyn leaned closer into his personal space. "I. Am."

"Yes. I can see that."

She didn't want to know if he was being sarcastic, mainly because she was certain that he was. After all, his eyebrow was still cocked and locked, ready to fire, and she'd delivered her I. Am. comment through clenched teeth.

"I also wanted to talk to you about Sergeant Rico," he calmly went on. "And about this mission."

Since she was already on the defensive, she just stayed there. "Oh, no. Don't even think about pulling the plug on it." Katelyn held up her thumb and index finger to indicate a miniscule space. "We're this close to getting the sniper, Brayden."

"I don't doubt it." And there wasn't anything defensive-sounding about that. He eased down her hand. "Sergeant Rico and you make a good team."

That improved her posture. But she wouldn't let a compliment, if that's indeed what it was, blindside her. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you each have talents that balance the other's." He leaned back against the sofa and tucked his hands behind his head. "For Rico, procedure is rote, so deeply engrained he doesn't have to think about it. The vast majority of the time, following procedure's the right thing to do. So that practically ensures a successful mission. You, on the other hand, think outside the box, and that gives you the edge when you're in an evade and escape mode."

"Thanks. I think." Suspicious, she squinted one eye. "Is this some kind of law enforcement version of a hunters versus gatherers theory?"

He smiled. "Well, sort of." His mouth quivered as if he might smile, but then he lowered his hands and continued. "Rico's never missed a shot during fire-arms qualification."

Another posture improving remark. "Never?"

"Never."

"Sheez." She let that sink in. "Even Robocop misses every now and then."

"Rico's also never blown a case. He's batting a thousand in that department."

She frowned, realizing all the blindsiding was probably leading somewhere after all. "And your point would be?"

"No point. You're smart, and that means you know if it comes down to a tight situation, then Rico can handle it. No matter how good of a shot you are—and you're good—he's better."

"And he'll be even better if I'm backing him up," she promptly added.

"Absolutely." He stood, kissed her cheek and headed for the door. "Be careful, okay?"

Katelyn nodded, and even though she wasn't pleased with the minilecture, she went to him and returned the kiss.

She locked the door after she let him out. "One down, one to go," she grumbled. She'd probably convinced Brayden to keep this case alive, but now she had to do the same with Joe.

"Want some chili?" she called out.

She took the two plastic containers from the bag. They were still warm so she grabbed a couple of spoons and prepared herself for a feast—which she really didn't want yet—but that was beside the point. Wolfing down some chili might go a long way toward proving to Joe that she was fit for duty.

He came out of the bedroom and started that staring thing again, so Katelyn shoved both the container of chili and a spoon into his hands. "Eat," she ordered.

She did. Katelyn sat back on the coffee table and dug in. "Practically orgasmic, huh?" she asked after he'd had his first taste.

"Close." Joe sampled another heaping spoonful. "Speaking of orgasmic, you'd rather let your brother think you have the hots for me than just tell him you're hurt?"

It was a good thing she'd just swallowed that mouthful of chili, or she might have choked on it. "You eavesdropped?"

"Thin walls," he countered. "Hard not to eavesdrop."

True. But that didn't let him off the hook completely. "I didn't want him to take me off the case, all right? Sometimes, he weirds out a little when he starts to think hard about what I do for a living. It's that you're-my-kid-sister routine. It brings out his protective instincts."

"If he'd known you were wounded in the line of duty, he would have pulled you off the case. It's not protective instincts. It's procedure."

She stabbed at the chili with her spoon. "I was scratched in the line of duty. Big difference."

"Why do you feel the rules don't apply to you, huh? And before you start defending yourself, just hear me out. Officers who are wounded, even when it's a scratch, take time off to recoup."

"I don't have time to recoup."

He smacked his chili onto the snack bar and stared down at her. "Am I supposed to understand that?"

No. And no explanation would probably help, either. Still, that didn't stop her. "I want to be promoted to sergeant, okay? And I wish there were a stronger word than want, because it'd definitely apply here. In six months, I'll be too old for that promotion."

"Too old?" he repeated. "You'll be what—the ripe old age of twenty-nine?"

"Both Brayden and Garrett made sergeant by the time they were twenty-nine."

He looked at her as if she'd sprouted wings. "This is about competing with your brothers?"

She was right. He didn't get it. He couldn't. "It'd be simple if it were a competition," she muttered, frustrated. "But it's more than that. The job is who I am. If I come up short, then I'm not the person I thought I was, and I don't think I could handle that."

Katelyn glanced at him, sorry that she'd just blurted out what was probably the only deep, dark secret she had.

"And, no, I don't really expect you to understand," she added. She poked at the chili again, glad that she had something to prod. Maybe the fake violence would rid her of the alley-cat war going on inside her body.

He dragged a chair closer and sat down right in front of her so they were eye-to-eye. And only inches apart. "I understand."

Of all the things that Katelyn thought he might say, that wasn't one of them. "Which part?"

"All of it."

She hadn't expected that, either. The skeptical look she gave him no doubt prompted him to continue.

"You know how everyone in your family are either cops or former cops? Well, in my family, they're all military officers. All successful. My dad is a retired one-star general, and he never forgave me for breaking ranks to become a police officer. As much as he was sure I'd fail, that's how determined I was to succeed. Every promotion, every citation, every award is to prove to him—and me—that I made the right decision."

"Wow." That's all she could manage for a couple of seconds. Talk about revealing deep, dark secrets.

Somehow, this conversation had taken a very unsettling turn. And more. He was so close that she took in his scent—and that mixed with the understanding look on his face was a dangerous combination.

"Okay, so maybe you do get it," she managed to say. And there was way too much breath in her voice.

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean I think it's a good idea to toss out the regs and procedures. Sometimes, you just have to step back and look at the bigger picture. Like this…" He reached for her bandaged arm.

Katelyn snagged his wrist, a variation of cutting him off at the pass. Or something like that. All she knew was it wouldn't be a good time for him to touch her. "Put your hands in my shirt again, and I'll take you where you sit."

She waited for him to laugh or give her a wiseguy comeback for using his words against him.

He didn't do either.

Joe sat there staring at her. Just staring. With those intense blue eyes that seemed to make her melt.

Mercy, where did the air suddenly go?

But it was too late for her to care about such things as air, or breathing. Katelyn let go of his wrist so she could reach for him.

Joe beat her to it.

Chapter Ten

The timing sucked.

Joe forced himself to remember that. Katelyn was injured and coming down from a terrifying ordeal. However, the reminder lasted for only a couple of seconds, for just the short period of time that it took him to haul her off that coffee table and onto his lap.

Her mouth came to his. Man, did it. Her moist, sweet, hot mouth. The kiss was hard and hungry, and in that moment, Joe knew he was sunk. There wasn't enough willpower in the universe to make him back away from her.

He slid an arm around her waist, another around the back of her neck and pulled her against him. To him. Until they were pressed to each other.

She wasn't a passive participant. Not that Joe had ever thought she would be. It was a battle. Her kiss was an assault. A sweet one, but still an assault. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, fighting to bring him even closer—not really possible since he'd have to be inside her to achieve that. The way things were going though, that just might happen.

Soon.

He decided not to think about why that wouldn't be a good idea.

Joe reached for her shirt, or rather his shirt that she was wearing, and would have ripped it off her if he hadn't tried to be considerate of her injury. Katelyn gave it no such consideration. She stripped it off and sent it flying across the room. Joe went for her bra instead but changed his mind when she shifted her legs to straddle him.

Oh, man.

There was no chance he'd talk his body or hers into slowing down so they wouldn't kill each other. So without breaking their kiss, he went with it, embracing that dangerous energy that was already on the verge of erupting.

He gripped her thigh and just kept going. Up. Not slowly, either. And not gently.

There was a lot of bare skin thanks to her short skirt, and she'd apparently removed her panty hose. The only thing he encountered along the way was the woman going after his zipper—something he preferred not to have happen anytime soon. She'd have managed it, too, if Joe hadn't maneuvered his own seeking hand around hers.

Since there wasn't time for finesse, he went for impact instead. He succeeded. Joe shoved his hand into her panties, into the fragile swatch of lace and silk. His fingers found her. Wet and hot. He made his way through the slick moisture.

One touch, and he heard her breath shudder.

She stopped her quest for his zipper and instead anchored her hands, one on his stomach. The other slipped into her own hair. Meeting his gaze head-on, she rocked shamelessly against his hand. One stroke. Two. Three. A long, lingering caress that brought on another shudder, another erotic hitch of her breath. And he was sure he had her close to release.

He was wrong.

Katelyn located his mouth again, kissing him as if she'd escalated the war. And maybe she had. She skipped the zipper part she'd started earlier and moved her hand from his stomach. Down.

Inside his pants.

No fumbling. She got it right the first time. Those agile fingers bypassed his boxers and slid right over his erection. One stroke. Two. A rather skillful swipe of her thumb, and she had him close to begging for mercy. Or close to begging for something else.

Joe gritted his teeth and launched them forward. Her back landed on the coffee table, and he landed on her. Between her legs. All in all, it wasn't a bad place to be. For a moment, anyway. And then there was another round of jockeying for position. She rolled. Until his back landed on the table.

Katelyn went after his shirt. He went after her skirt. It was out-and-out warfare, and for some reason speed counted. They battled the clothes and won. She even got her way with his zipper and managed to shove it down.

"Now," she demanded, already aligning the parts of them that would have made now happen once he rid them of their underwear.

Maybe it was the sound of her voice, or maybe there was a thread of common sense that hadn't been smothered in all that fire, but Joe remembered something he almost wished he hadn't remembered.

"I don't have a condom," he let her know.

Katelyn stopped instantly and stared at him. "Neither do I."

Her eyes were wild, unfocused, and her breaths came out in short, hot spurts. She looked on the verge of cursing, but since she didn't, Joe cursed for both of them. What he didn't do was move away from her. It would take more than a lack of a condom for that to happen.

In one swipe with his forearm, he cleared the coffee table. Chili, magazines and papers went in every direction. He didn't stop there. Because she'd already started reaching for him, specifically for his erection, Joe latched on to her panties and pulled them off her. They tore. And neither he nor Katelyn obviously cared.

Now.

It had to be now.

With the blood raging, and his heartbeat hammering, he went straight for that hot, sweet part of her that he'd already touched. But this time, he used his mouth and tongue instead of his fingers.

The taste of her went straight through him like a double shot of whiskey. And more. It was a taste he wouldn't forget, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he'd never be with another woman without thinking of this.

Of her.

She mumbled something and sounded as if she were on the verge of protesting, but a well-placed stroke of his tongue stopped her.

"Okay," was all she said.

She arched her back, moaned and began to move to the rhythm of his mouth. It didn't seem possible, but he'd actually found a way to get Katelyn O'Malley to cooperate. And he pleasured them both in the process.

For a couple more seconds, anyway.

"Maybe there's a condom in the bathroom," she decided, her tone more desperate than hopeful.

Her hands were suddenly everywhere. Touching as much of him as she could possibly touch, she slid lower and caught on to his hips, dragging him to the bathroom with her.

Still, the war didn't stop.

She did though.

But only so she could take her mouth to his bare stomach. No simple kiss. No, not her. She had him seeing double when she circled his navel with her tongue and sucked not-so-tenderly. Before he could muster enough strength to stop her, she kissed his erection as intimately as he'd kissed her. She pleasured him, and from the way she moved against him, she pleasured herself, as well.

Somehow, he stood upright so he could maneuver her and hopefully reciprocate. She caught on to his shoulders and pushed him against the wall. Normally, that wouldn't have been an enjoyable experience, but he was in the zone where anything she did would have been enjoyable in this erotic battle they were waging on each other.

Joe dragged her up with him. And turned so that she was the one against the wall. He was careful not to hurt her arm, but he wasn't so gentle with the rest of her. He kissed her. Hard.

She tasted of him.

Smelled of him.

Yet, somehow her own unique scent and taste were there, as well. Lingering around him and making him crazy.

Turning as if in some bizarre dance, they made it into the bathroom. He couldn't have told anyone how, but it qualified as a miracle.

His shoulder slammed against the jamb when she looped her arms behind his neck and leaped up to wrap her legs around his waist. With one hand he fumbled through the medicine cabinet while he used his other hand to keep her fingers out of his boxers.

She searched for a condom as well, tossing things from the glass shelves. Throughout her quest, she kept up the kisses, the touches. Until Joe was absolutely sure he couldn't take any more.

But somehow, he took more.

She made him take more.

"Truce," Katelyn mumbled. With her breath thin, her voice had hardly any sound. "There's not a condom in here."

Fighting with his own breath, he nodded. "It was a long shot anyway."

And it no longer mattered.

He'd already prepared himself for the final battle, and he didn't need a condom for what he had in mind. Joe turned and pinned her against the sink. Without her panties in the way, he wedged his knee between her legs and eased his fingers inside her.

A long, deliberate sigh left her mouth. A moan. And a gasp of pleasure. Once again she moved into the strokes. And she moved against him. Deeper this time, though. Against his fingers, and against his body. A slow, sensual slide that brought out every basic, every carnal instinct inside him.

"Not without you," she insisted.

"Yes, without me."

But he might as well have been talking to the air because she clamped her leg along the outside of his. Holding him in place. And she got her way by sliding her hand back into his boxers.

Since it was obvious she wouldn't give up, Joe just gave in.

"Move with me, Katelyn. Move with me."

She did. She moved with him as if her very life depended on it. And with their blood raging, that wasn't too far from the truth.

Face-to-face. Body-to-body. Wet skin whispering against wet skin. His fingers, in her. Moving. Hers, on him. Clutching. Gripping. Sliding. To a frantic, feverish pace.

"Take me where I stand," she offered.

And he accepted that offer.

He snagged her gaze, because he wanted to watch her go over. Joe fought through the clawing primal need to claim and possess so he could see exactly what this did to her. It didn't matter that he felt his own body going over, as well.

Nothing mattered.

Except this.

Except her.

They took that last climb together with strokes. Touches. Caresses. And they were right there to catch each other when the fire tore free and released them both.

* * *

KATELYN SO HOPED the ringing in her ears was a post-orgasmic response.

No such luck.

When she heard Joe curse, she realized it was the phone. A phone she should probably answer since this was supposedly her apartment and since they were in the middle of an undercover murder investigation.

Somehow, Joe got their bodies untangled so she could make it to the bedroom. To prevent herself from having to stand around naked, she grabbed a towel and her pajama top along the way. Naked was great during the throes of passion, but now that the passion had been sated, she was already starting to feel as if she'd done the ultimate no-no.

Which in a way she had.

She'd just had sex with her boss, and even though it wasn't full-blown sex, it qualified in every possible way that counted.

Katelyn pushed that disturbing thought aside and grabbed the phone. After a couple of tries, she even managed a meager hello.

"We have a problem," Brayden immediately informed her.

Okay. So that rid her of any lust-induced cobwebs. "What's wrong?"

She tried to brace herself, but the bracing failed when she heard her brother's response.

"The sniper struck again. There's been another shooting."

Chapter Eleven

"It takes thirteen average-size steps to go from one side to the other," Garrett commented from the doorway of the headquarters' conference room. "But then you probably already figured that out since all you've done is pace for the past fifteen minutes."

"I beg to differ." Katelyn held up the foam cup. "I've had coffee with my pacing."

"How very multitasked of you. Try it with gum, and you'll really impress me."

Too bad their attempts at levity failed.

Mercy. Another shooting.

She tried to choke back a sigh, failed, and dropped down into one of the burgundy leather chairs that encircled a massive oval table.

Garrett glanced at Joe, who was in the adjoining room. He'd kept the door open, and the glass panel allowed them both to see that Joe was still talking on the phone. Too bad she couldn't hear what he was saying.

"You have an update on the wounded couple yet?" Garrett asked her.

"That's what Joe's getting now." She set her empty cup aside. "Their names are Melissa and Brad Garcia. They're alive. At least, they were when they arrived at the hospital a couple of hours ago, but they're both in surgery."

"I heard the shooting happened not too far from the Municipal Auditorium?"

She nodded. "They were getting married in a late night ceremony on one of those tour boats. Just the couple, a minister and two others who were witnessing the wedding."

That in itself posed some serious questions as to how the sniper had learned about the ceremony. It wasn't exactly a well-publicized event. If she could somehow pick up the information trail, it might lead her to the person responsible. And in this case, the person responsible had shot the bride and groom within seconds after they said I do.

Just the thought of that made her stomach churn. What was supposed to be the happiest night of their life had turned into a nightmare.

Katelyn shook her head, and her fingers curled into a fist. "I should have stopped him, Garrett. This shouldn't have happened."

"You know, in some cultures that remark would be considered heresy. You're not God. Heck, you're not even in the angel category." And though it was a typical cocky Garrett response, he gave her a brotherly pat on the back. "Are you close to collaring this shooter?"

"He struck twice in the same night so at least we know we're pushing the right buttons." She glanced in Joe's direction, but he was still on the phone. "Or in light of the wounded couple, maybe it was the wrong buttons."

"It's not wrong. You'll get him." Garrett unwrapped two mints that he took from his pocket, popped one in his mouth and uncurled her fist so he could put the other one in her hand. "I heard the owner of Perfect Match might be closing down the place for a couple of days. Will that affect your follow-up plans?"

"I don't know yet." She stared at the mint because it gave her some place to focus her attention. "Joe just got the news before the hospital called."

But it would definitely have an effect. After all, they were supposed to go to Perfect Match that very afternoon and invite Merrick to the wedding. Since that was a critical step in the plan, it meant they'd have to make other arrangements to see him.

Not an ideal contingency.

If they met Merrick elsewhere, it only increased problems for securing yet another location. But then, calling the man and asking him to meet them at Perfect Match might make him even more suspicious than he already was.

Garrett took a chair, turned it backward and sat across from her so they were face-to-face. When she didn't make eye contact with him, he put his finger beneath her chin, lifted and forced the eye contact. He tipped his head toward Joe. "So how hard are you falling for that jerk?"

Katelyn frowned and tossed the mint into her mouth. She cracked it with her teeth. "He's not a jerk."

"How hard are you falling for him?" Garrett flatly repeated.

The mint crunching didn't last nearly as long as Garrett's inquisitive, in-her-face expression. "As hard as a massive crate of concrete," she admitted.

Garrett made a sound of disappointment, lifted her hand and studied the ring for her fake engagement to Joe. "I thought I taught you better than that. The badge first. Family second. Lust and laundry last."

"I'm scared it's more than just lust," Katelyn whispered.

"Hell."

"Yes." She considered some profanity of her own.

"What about all the other stuff going on?" Garrett asked. "You just plan to forget that Rico's investigation could ultimately hurt Brayden?"

"Don't give me that." Katelyn managed to keep her voice at a whisper. An angry whisper. But it was still hopefully low enough that Joe wouldn't hear her. "The chief ordered that investigation, not Joe. And it could only ultimately hurt Brayden if there were some truth to it. There isn't."

"You think Rico knows that?"

"I think I'll trust him to figure it out. Judas Priest, Garrett, he's not the bad guy in all of this. Heck, maybe the chief isn't, either. Maybe he just wants to make sure he doesn't have a potential problem in the department that could affect morale." But Katelyn groaned when she heard herself. "Good grief, I sound like Brayden. And Joe."

"Scary, huh?" He took her empty coffee cup, crushed it and launched it into the trash can. "Wanna know what else sounds scary? According to the rumor mill, Rico will probably be promoted to lieutenant. If that happens, he'll almost certainly be put in charge of Special Investigations since Brodell's retiring. That means Rico will be my boss."

Katelyn gave him a weary smile. "You've got nothing to worry about. Joe's a good boss."

"Yeah, but there's no lust factor in this for me, just the concern that I might have to beat him to a pulp if he doesn't do right by Brayden."

"He'll do right by Brayden." And Katelyn was surprised to realize that she believed that with all her heart.

She was so in trouble.

One fantastic orgasm, and she was falling head over heels for a man she certainly shouldn't be falling for.

Because she couldn't sit still and because she noted a renewed concern on Joe's face, she got up and continued her pacing. Mercy, how long did it take to get a status report on patients?

"So the rumor mill is saying he'll be promoted?" Katelyn asked just to get her mind off that phone call.

"Apparently."

"And what about my promotion?"

It was a gutsy question because she knew Garrett wouldn't lie to her. But there was a good chance he might try to sugarcoat it.

He lifted a shoulder. "It's just a rumor mill. What the heck does it matter?"

She groaned. Definitely sugarcoating. In other words, the odds were against her. However, it seemed a trivial worry with people's lives in limbo. Later, when this was over, she'd spend some time worrying about that particular aspect of her life.

Joe finally put down the phone and came out into the conference room. He nodded a greeting at Garrett before his gaze came to hers.

"The Garcias are out of the woods," he let her know. "Both required surgery, but they're stable. The doctors are hopeful they'll make a full recovery. Not only that, we should be able to get an officer in there by evening to ask them some questions."

Katelyn took a deep breath and said a prayer of thanks. Finally, a break. Now if they'd just get one with stopping this sniper before he could do any more damage.

"That's my cue to get out of here," Garrett insisted. "Remember what I just told you, Sis."

"No, thanks," she tossed back.

He smiled in that secretive way that only Garrett and Mona Lisa could have managed, lifted a hand in farewell and headed out the door.

"A problem?" Joe asked, watching Garrett leave.

"No." She glared at Garrett until he was out of sight and then turned back to Joe. "Is this one connected to Perfect Match?"

"Afraid so. According to the minister, the couple met there at an icebreaker about three months ago."

Katelyn had known he would say that. The sniper was back to the pattern. "Did anyone see the shooter?"

Joe shook his head. "No one's come forward, but it's early. We have an evidence response team checking the scene now. Brayden is still rounding up Bruce Donovan and Fiona Shipley. We might have answers soon."

"What about Dr. Kent and Addison Merrick?" she asked.

"Supposedly they were at their residences, asleep. But three of the four suspects live alone so any of them could have sneaked out to commit the crime. Fiona could have left the mental health facility, as well."

"Wait a minute—they weren't being watched?"

"They were, but it would have been easy enough to get out without being seen."

True. So no breaks in that particular area. "This time the shots were fairly accurate?"

"Accurate enough to wound two people, but there were strays. At least a dozen. And the minister's leg was grazed with a bullet." Joe scrubbed his fingers over his chin. "You're thinking about Donovan and those two rifles he owns?"

"Yes. Maybe he's a lousy shot despite being a gun owner? Or maybe he just wants to make people believe the sniper has a bad aim so it'll take suspicion off him?"

"Or maybe he's not the sniper." Joe stopped, apparently gave that some thought, and then looked at her. "What's going on in your head?"

"I was just thinking about how the sniper broke his own rules when he fired shots at us. We weren't a newlywed couple. Now with this latest shooting maybe he, or she, wants to remind everyone that he's really only after brides and grooms who meet at the agency. And if so, then it's obviously an important message to get across."

"That brings us back to motive." He flexed his eyebrows. "All four of our suspects have that in spades."

Katelyn might have dwelled on that a little longer if she hadn't noticed the paper in Joe's hand.

"It's the details for tomorrow," he said, obviously aware of what had caught her attention.

With everything else going on, she hadn't even thought that far in advance. She did now.

A wedding.

A fake one. With Joe. Tomorrow. Maybe what'd happened in the bathroom was coloring her opinion, but that suddenly sounded as nerve-wracking as facing a gunman.

"The ceremony's scheduled for noon," Joe explained, handing her the paper. "The plan is for us to have officers and the SWAT team stake out every building around the church. We're hoping to catch the sniper before either of us get near anything resembling an aisle."

"That's something worth hoping for," she mumbled, going over the mission summary.

"Of course, we'll be armed and wearing bullet-proof vests just in case he manages to get through."

Of course. "Sounds like you've covered the primary bases. Well, except for maybe clothes. Do we need anything special to wear?"

A wedding dress, for example?

"Brayden's taking care of that. He knew your size," Joe clarified when she stared at him.

"Better him than Garrett, I guess. I'd end up wearing pajamas to the church if you put him in charge of wardrobe."

He reached out and touched her cheek. A quick, nonsexual tap. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." She rubbed her arm in a see? gesture. "It really is just a scratch."

"I wasn't talking about your arm."

"Oh. That." It seemed a good time to stare at the floor. The ceiling. Or anything other than Joe. "That's the problem with the morning after. Things seem, well, awkward."

"Which is why I should have backed away."

Heck. She hadn't meant to put this all on his shoulders. "I heard recently that in some cultures a comment like that could be considered heresy. You're not a supreme being, Joe, and don't worry—what happened between us won't affect the job."

She hoped.

But she kept that inkling of doubt to herself.

"We're both consenting adults," Katelyn continued. "Besides, we didn't even fully sleep together. It was just…lust." There, that was the word she was looking for. "And now that we've taken the edge off, so to speak, everything should be fine."

Mercy, she was babbling.

And lying.

Really lying.

That episode hadn't taken the edge off anything. It'd just made her aware of how hot Joe could get her and how masterfully he could satisfy that heat—all without fully having sex with her.

"Are you finished?" he asked.

She nodded.

And Joe stole her breath by leaning forward and kissing her.

It was nothing like the frenzied lip lock at the apartment. It was gentle. Comforting. Easy.

So easy.

It seemed as if her bones turned to liquid. But that only made it more memorable.

"Sergeant Rico?" she heard someone say. "Sorry to interrupt."

Katelyn glanced at the door, fearing who might be there. It was Detective Dawn Davidson, who'd done the initial interrogation with Dr. Kent. Thankfully, the woman looked away while Katelyn broke the kiss. Not that it would diffuse much of anything. By afternoon, the rumor mill would have something savory to nibble on.

"Here's that info you requested. And the chief wants to see you right away." Dawn handed Joe the folder and quickly excused herself.

The chief's request would have been alarming enough news without the "right away" part. It was probably about the investigation into the favoritism allegations.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall.

Despite the command from the highest ranking man in the building, Joe didn't leave. He did, however, let her fully slip out of his embrace so he could open the folder.

"I asked the techs to tap into Perfect Match's files and give me a list of all of Fiona Shipley's dream matches, plus the matches of the murdered couple." He handed her half the pages. "Look through those."

It was a good task to eliminate any residual effects of that kiss, and the events of the night before. They were Fiona's files, and they were sizable. Twelve of twenty-three pages. Of course, she was a frequent customer so the high volume wasn't that surprising.

Katelyn skimmed through the names to see if anything popped out at her. One did. "Raul Hernandez," she read aloud. "But we already knew about him."

And he was very much dead.

"Kirk Masterson," Joe announced. "The second groom. Fiona's high on his list. Third, in fact."

Pleased that the pieces might be falling into place, Katelyn turned another page, and her attention immediately landed on a name near the middle. "Bingo. She was a match with Brad Garcia, our latest victim."

Finally!

But her finally wasn't much of a celebration. Joe checked his watch. "There was no answer when I called that number Fiona gave me so I passed it on to the tech guys so they could check it out. If it holds, I'll try to set up a meeting with her this afternoon. Maybe we can finish this today so we won't even need the ceremony."

"Yes, maybe." And then she remembered Joe's other appointment. "After your meeting with the chief, of course."

"Of course."

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and walked out, leaving her with a thousands questions and not many answers. Too bad a lot of those questions centered around Joe and the fact that he was setting a scenario to put himself in danger.

Which was his job, she reminded herself.

And hers.

A job she needed to focus on if she wanted them both to walk away from this alive. Suddenly, that focus seemed a lot more critical than it ever had.

Katelyn sat down, cleared her mind and began to study Fiona Shipley's file. Maybe somewhere in all those names and information, there would be clues to bring down a killer.

Chapter Twelve

Apparently, right away meant something different to the chief than it did to Joe. He checked his watch—he'd been waiting in the hallway for the man for nearly a half hour. Either something unexpected had come up or else this was some sort of power play to remind Joe who was in charge.

As if he could forget that.

He owed a lot to Chief Mark Ryland. After all, the man had made Joe's transfer to Homicide possible. Ryland had also put tremendous trust in him by asking him to look into allegations regarding a fellow officer.

Well, maybe it was trust.

And maybe it was just something as simple as Ryland not wanting to make the investigation official unless he knew for certain there were improprieties. Or maybe he thought Joe would be relentless in getting to the truth. In doing so, however, Ryland had pitted him against not just Brayden but the entire O'Malley clan—including Katelyn.

Yet, it hadn't kept them apart.

Of course, probably nothing short of critical injury or death could have done that. There were times, like now, when Joe felt as if he were in the path of a speeding train, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Nothing he wanted to do to stop it.

Talk about confusing. They had a killer to catch, and his every other thought was of the redhead he'd left in the conference room. She deserved better than that and so did the victims.

"Bad morning?" he heard someone ask.

Not the chief. Brayden. He was coming down the hall directly toward Joe. And he wasn't alone. He had a big white box in one arm and a little boy squirming under the other. An O'Malley clone. He looked to be two or three and was a miniature version of Brayden.

"I've had easier," Joe answered. Something told him this one wasn't going to get much better. "Is this your son?"

"Yes. My mother came by to drop off something for Katelyn so she brought him with her. Colton, this is Sergeant Rico."

The child gave a little wave, but he was obviously far more interested in the fake police badge he was playing with than meeting Joe.

"I just heard the latest victims pulled through," Brayden commented, putting the boy down. Colton didn't waste any time exploring the fake moss in an equally fake plant. "Good news."

"Definitely. Maybe we'll be able to get something from them when they're out of recovery."

"Too bad though we haven't been able to locate Fiona Shipley. She hasn't returned to her apartment or the mental health facility, and that number she gave you was a fake. It's for some shop down on Commerce Street."

Well, so much for the woman hitting on him. Katelyn had been wrong about that. Fiona had probably been trying to make Merrick jealous. Or else maybe she was suspicious and had just wanted to get Joe off her back.

"We'll keep looking for her," Brayden continued. "But if you're still able to meet with Merrick this afternoon, maybe you can talk him into giving you info about where to contact her."

Joe nodded, not really hopeful about that. "We're definitely meeting with Merrick. In fact, we'll leave just as soon as I'm done here." Merrick probably wouldn't give up the information voluntarily, but maybe they could get it some other way. His mind kept going back to that Rolodex he'd spotted on Merrick's desk. If Merrick and Fiona had had an affair, then her number was probably in there.

It seemed more than a little awkward standing outside the chief's office and having such a civil conversation with the man he was supposed to be investigating. Brayden had to know why Joe was waiting to see Chief Ryland, but he didn't show it. No dark emotion simmering just below the surface. No pondering look. Just shop talk and an occasional fatherly glance in his son's direction.

"How badly was Katelyn hurt in the shooting?" Brayden asked.

Okay. So maybe not totally shop talk. That question threw Joe off balance. "Hardly more than a scratch on her arm. She's fine. How'd you know?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Lucky guess."

Right. The man had probably never relied on luck or guesses in his entire life.

Brayden did a no-no motion with his index finger when his son started to remove a flyer from the bulletin board. The child promptly obeyed and moved on to a hands-on examination of the carpet.

"If you're waiting for my permission to discipline Katelyn for not following procedure about an injury," Brayden told him, "the wait's unnecessary. You're her boss."

"Believe me, I haven't forgotten that." Well, maybe he had while they were in that bathroom. Joe shook his head. "No disciplinary action will be required. Not unless you want to aim it at me. I didn't report her injury even after she…informed me of it."

"Then you must have believed it wouldn't have an impact on this assignment."

"She convinced me that it wouldn't," Joe said, rather than lie to the man.

Brayden grunted. Not an ordinary grunt. But one to indicate he was deep in thought about something. "That day in my office, you said something about Katelyn coloring outside the lines."

Joe winced, recalling the words in perfect detail. "I meant—"

"She does. So does Garrett. It drives me nuts, but I swear they can sort through things that look like a junk pile to me. Like zooming in on Perfect Match after only one shooting. You managed to do that, too, but you used department resources. Katelyn didn't, because she worked on it while off-duty. Added to that, she was also dealing with the grief from her friend's murder. Yet, I believe she got to the right place about the same time you did?"

"She did." Joe smiled, but he made sure it didn't stay on his face too long. In this case being proud of her probably wasn't a good thing to display. "Is there advice somewhere in that?"

"There is. If it comes down to a situation where someone negates the rules, trust Katelyn."

Joe met him eye-to-eye and nodded. "With my life."

And it wasn't something he had to think about.

Nor was it a question.

Brayden gave him a pat on the back and turned to leave.

"What—no veiled threats about not hurting her?" Joe asked, certain that he deserved such threats. Heck, they might even make him feel less guilty.

Joe felt Colton tugging on his pant leg, looked down, and the boy flashed the fake badge at him. "Know what a frisk is?" Except instead of frisk, it was fisk. Joe winked at the kid, ruffled his hair and assured him that he did.

"That's something my brother taught him," Brayden explained, obviously not too pleased about it. He passed the box to Joe so he could scoop up his son in his arms. "And as for your relationship with my sister, Katelyn can take care of herself. I'm more concerned about you than her."

"Me?"

"Katelyn feels she has to work twice as hard and twice as long to prove herself. Added to that, she's not just married to the badge, she's in love with it. And she won't give that up for you or any other man."

Not exactly a newsflash. Joe had known and admired that about her from day one. "I wouldn't even think of asking her to give it up."

Brayden stared at him a moment, and Joe felt as if the man were sizing him up. Probably was. "It'll be interesting to watch."

"Know what interrogation is?" That from Colton. Except it was terrogation.

"I know." In fact, Joe thought he might be in the middle of one. A subtle one, where the lieutenant was getting him to ask the questions and then provide the answers, as well.

"What'll be interesting to watch?" Joe directed at Brayden.

"How Katelyn deals with you."

Joe got the feeling Brayden left off a portion of that observation. The flip side to that coin was how the heck was he going to deal with her?

"Wait," Joe said when Brayden started to walk away. "You forgot your box."

"It's for Katelyn. Make sure she gets it."

There it was again. That almost smug look that Brayden aimed his way. Or maybe it was a look of sympathy. If so, Joe needed it.

The door to the chief's office swung open. "Come in, Rico."

Definitely not a polite suggestion, and judging from the way the man gruffly gestured for him to sit down, this wouldn't be a long meeting.

"You're closing in on this sniper case?" Ryland asked, which was probably the only semblance of a greeting Joe would get.

"I hope. Detective O'Malley and I have been undercover on it all week."

"I heard. I'm not sure why Brayden paired you with her for this."

"She was the right person for the assignment," Joe calmly insisted.

Best to leave out the part of how she'd become the right person. Besides, it no longer mattered. She was the right person, and that had nothing to do with all the sexual stuff going on between them.

The chief put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. "So what about these allegations?"

Now this was the part where Joe wouldn't leave anything out. "I haven't seen a single incident of favoritism, and I've been in contact with all three of the O'Malleys on this sniper case."

The fingers unsteepled, and the man made a huffing sound. "Did Katelyn O'Malley have anything to do with helping you out with that conclusion?"

Joe pondered that a moment. Not because he needed time to think about it, but he wanted to put a chokehold on the anger he felt over that question. "No," he said honestly.

"No," the chief repeated. "You sure you're not thinking below the belt on this, Rico?"

Joe tightened that chokehold a little more. "If you're questioning my objectivity—"

"I am. And don't look so damn riled about it. It wouldn't be the first time."

"It would be for me." If that didn't thoroughly tick off the chief, the next thing he had to say probably would. "I'm attracted to Katelyn O'Malley, but I wouldn't lie about allegations because of my feelings for her. And if you think I'm the kind of man who'd do that, then you need to get someone else to do this investigation."

The chief studied him. Scowled. "I don't want anyone else. You've got a fresh eye since you haven't been here that long. Keep looking. If there's something to find, I want to know about it."

Ryland gave him a dismissal wave, which Joe ignored. Joe got to his feet, but instead of leaving, he stared down at the chief. "Have there even been any legitimate complaints against Lieutenant O'Malley?"

Ryland had already reached for his brown-bag lunch, but that stopped him. "A rumor or two."

"Rumors?" Joe couldn't help it. He cursed, and he didn't keep it under his breath. "And you're willing to put his career at risk for rumors?"

With his scowl tightening, Ryland snatched his lunch bag and dumped out the contents. He rifled through, found a Snickers bar, and ripped off the wrapper. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure morale stays high."

"That's the wrong way to go about it, sir." Joe's hands went on his hips. "I'll give you my final report when I'm finished with the sniper case, but there won't be anything in it that I haven't already said to you right here, right now."

And with that, Joe walked out, no doubt leaving any chance of his promotion behind in the chief's office.

Chapter Thirteen

Katelyn had braced herself for just about anything to happen during their meeting with Addison Merrick. But what she hadn't anticipated was that things would get interesting before they even reached Perfect Match.

She stared in the side mirror, her heart rate automatically kicking up a few notches.

"You see it?" she asked Joe.

"Yes." He continued to drive, but like her, he was keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. "A black BMW."

"That's the one." At the moment it was three cars back, but it'd stayed close enough behind them since they left the parking lot of the apartment. "Did you happen to notice it when we got back from headquarters?"

"No. You?"

She shook her head. And if it'd been there, Katelyn almost certainly would have seen it. That's exactly the sort of flag that she'd been looking for. If the sniper was truly suspicious, then in all likelihood he or she would try to follow them.

And perhaps even try to kill them again.

"I can't read the license," Katelyn informed him. "How about you."

"Not yet, but it's Texas plates." Joe took the last turn toward Perfect Match.

So did the other car.

"Maybe it's Merrick?" she suggested.

"It's possible."

After all, Joe had called the man an hour ago and had asked him to meet them at Perfect Match, so it wasn't so much of a coincidence that they'd arrive at the same time.

But this just didn't feel like a coincidence.

She squinted against the sun and tried to get a glimpse of the driver of the BMW. However, in this case, the late morning sun was a serious hindrance. It glinted off the other car's windshield, making it impossible for Katelyn to see who was following them.

"The windows are bullet resistant," Joe reminded her. "We'll park and stay put to see what our visitor does."

It was a good plan, if the sit and wait didn't take too long. They still needed to work on contacting Fiona Shipley, and that wouldn't happen if they had to play games with the driver of that BMW.

Joe pulled into a parking space directly in front of the agency. The spots normally filled with cars were practically empty. The closed sign on the door likely had a lot to do with that, and the fact that there'd been a recent shooting in the area.

The BMW passed them and parked behind one of the few vehicles at the far end of the block.

Katelyn tried to see through the sunny glare, but she could only make out a shadowy figure. She slid her hand over her weapon. And waited.

Mercy, the waiting was the hardest part.

A stir of movement to her right caused her to glance in that direction. Merrick opened the front door and motioned for them to come in.

"Well, whoever's watching us, it's not Merrick," she mumbled. That left Fiona, Donovan or even Dr. Kent. Of course, it also left any other sicko they might not have considered. Some other client or rejected lover with an attitude problem. Still, Katelyn didn't think they were off the mark with their short list of suspects. It was more than likely one of those four. She just didn't know how to go about proving which one.

Merrick motioned again. This time, it wasn't so friendly. It was definitely a hurry-up signal. But Katelyn was fairly sure that no matter how frantic the man's signals got, Joe wouldn't let either of them step out of the car with that BMW still lurking about.

With a squeal of tires, the BMW backed up just enough so it could circle around to a side street, and it sped away.

"Should we pursue?" she asked Joe.

"No. Let's stick with the plan. If it follows us when we come out, we'll try to run the plates to see who's interested in what we're doing."

She smiled at Merrick and held up her index finger in a one-minute gesture. The man ducked back inside. That didn't mean, however, that he wouldn't be spying on them from the window.

"This'll be a quick in and out," Joe said, going over the rules. "We tell Merrick about the wedding being set for tomorrow and see if he'll give us Fiona's number under the guise of us inviting her to the ceremony. And that's it. Those two things, and we get out of there."

While he checked his weapon, Katelyn stared at the building that housed Perfect Match. But not just the building. The alley up the street where someone had tried to gun them down. Yes. She definitely understood Joe's insistence of a quick in and out. Looking at that spot made her arm ache, and it didn't do much for the rest of her, either.

"What if Merrick won't tell us how to get in touch with Fiona?" she asked.

He shrugged. "The rules still apply here."

Not exactly the answer she wanted to hear. "I swear I'm going to needlepoint that on a pillow."

"No detours, Katelyn. No shortcuts." That was as much of an order as it was a warning, and void of sarcasm or humor. "This isn't the time to try to bring down a killer. We've got a plan set in motion to do that."

"Okay, okay. It just makes me crazy to think of this piece of slime walking around free while we've got two people dead and two more seriously wounded."

"I know, and we'll get the person responsible."

That soothed her a little, but not nearly enough. Even though her brain told her the shootings weren't her fault, there was still the sickening feeling that she should have been able to stop it. People were hurt because she'd failed. No words, even those coming from Joe, could ease that.

Worse, that dread had spread to other areas.

She caught his arm when he started to open the door. Unfortunately, she hadn't really thought beyond that. Well, she had, but Katelyn hadn't quite figured out how to convey the things she was feeling. "Let me just blurt this out because I don't think I can make it sound palatable. You won't take any unnecessary risks, right?"

He angled his head to stare at her. "What's this all about?"

"I've already said it won't make sense. There's just this…fear. There, I've said it. I'm afraid. Not for me, but for you. And that's so stupid because you're a cop."

Joe did something with his mouth. Not really a gape but his version of it. "You're worried about me?"

Disgusted with herself, she nodded. She would never believe anyone who told her that sex didn't change things between a man and a woman. Except she'd had sex with other men, and it hadn't changed things. Not like this, anyway.

Nothing had ever changed things like this.

He slid his arm around her and pulled her to him. "I can take care of myself, Katelyn. You can take care of yourself. And when all else fails, we both make great backups."

"It's that fail part that's giving me some trouble here. It can't happen, okay?"

He nodded. "Anything else before we go in there?"

Oh, she knew what he was getting at. His meeting with the chief. It was a bit of unfinished business that would have to remain unfinished a little longer. "Nothing else." Katelyn took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

She made yet another mental check of her weapons and communicator as they stepped from the car. Joe had parked close enough so they only had a few steps before they made it to the door. Moving straight into their lovers' pose, they latched on to each other.

"Kate, Joe," Merrick greeted, opening the door and motioning for them to come in. "I was surprised to get your call. I figured all our clients had been scared off by the latest shooting."

"Oh?" And that was all Joe said. All in all, it was a good leading question.

"You haven't heard?" Merrick shook his head. "It's been all over the news. There was another couple injured last night by this so-called Veiled Sniper. Unfortunately, they were former clients."

Joe nodded. Katelyn mumbled something about how horrible it all was. She certainly didn't have to fake that part.

Merrick went to the cooler tucked away in the corner and helped himself to not one but two cups of water. While he was there, he pressed some buttons on a wall pad, and music began to play. A heavy, sensual sax that didn't exactly mesh with the adrenaline surging through her.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to make this visit quick," Merrick continued. "The security guard that I hired part-time couldn't come in today. He's sick. So I'd rather not stay around here too long."

"We won't keep you. We just wanted to invite you to the wedding." Joe produced a mock invitation from his pocket. "It's tomorrow. That's short notice, we know, but we'd love for you to be there to celebrate with us."

"And not just you," Katelyn added, making sure she sounded happy and not suspicious. "We want Bruce Donovan and all the other nice people we've met here to come, as well." She snapped her fingers. "Including Fiona Shipley. I'm not sure if you know her, but Joe and she chatted."

Merrick's smile faded, and he gripped the invitation with far more force than necessary.

"Fiona was so friendly," Joe added when Merrick didn't say anything. "But I don't know how to get in touch with her. I thought maybe you'd have her number so we could call her?"

"Sorry. I'm not allowed to give out that kind of information. Tell you what though—if I see Fiona, I'll tell her. And I'll make sure Bruce gets the word, too. This might be just what we need to lighten the mood around here." He studied the invitation. "You're not worried though? I mean, because of these other shootings."

It was on the tip of Katelyn's tongue to lie, but the door behind them flew open. Only because she saw Joe reach for his gun, she forced herself not to go for hers. Not immediately anyway. That way, if it were some legitimate visitor, it wouldn't totally blow their cover for both of them to draw. One gun they could justify. Maybe.

Instead, Katelyn kept her attention firmly on Merrick in case he planned to use this as some kind of diversion to try to kill them. Merrick's eyes widened when he caught sight of Joe's weapon.

Dr. Allen Kent stepped in.

No widening of his eyes. But he did stop. He glanced at the gun. Joe. Her. And then at Merrick.

"What's going on here?" Kent demanded. "Is this some kind of robbery?"

Joe didn't exactly relax. Nor did he lower his gun. "No robbery."

It was obviously time for damage control. "We're a little shaken." Katelyn's voice quivered slightly, which although unplanned contributed to the proof that the shaken part wasn't all facade. She caught Joe's wrist and lowered his hand, and his weapon, to his side. "It's the shootings."

Kent nodded. "I heard. In fact, the cops came by to see me this morning." He fired a glare at Merrick. "They asked for an alibi. Can you believe that? They wanted me to provide an alibi. I live alone for Christ's sake. Am I supposed to have friends sleep over just so I won't be accused of some crime?"

"I think they're questioning anyone associated with Perfect Match," Katelyn provided. "Joe and I had to go in this morning, as well."

Kent glanced at her again, but this time it didn't stay a glance. He combed his gaze over her from head to toe. "Don't I know you?"

Oh, mercy.

That was not what she wanted to hear right now. Beside her, she felt Joe's arm stiffen. He was no doubt thinking the same thing she was. That maybe Kent had somehow connected her to Gail after all. If so, they were in trouble.

Forcing herself to remain calm, Katelyn pretended to study his face. "Maybe we've met. I've been here a couple of times. In fact, my fiancé and I met right here at Perfect Match." For good measure she thrust out her hand so he could see the engagement ring.

"Very nice," he said without even looking at it.

"We're here to invite Addison to the wedding," Joe explained. "And Fiona Shipley."

At first, she was surprised that Joe had included the woman's name, but she soon realized it was a smart thing to do.

Kent's mouth eased into a sarcastic smile. "Trust me, you don't want to invite Fiona. She's not exactly wedding guest material."

"You know her?" Joe asked.

But the answer didn't come from Kent, but from Merrick after he had shared a glance with Kent. "We both know her. I'm afraid Fiona sometimes has trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy. She's no longer a client here. That's the main reason I had security here the night of the icebreaker. Fiona has a tendency to show up uninvited."

"She seemed nice enough when I spoke to her," Joe insisted. "And I told her I'd invite her to the wedding. I'd really like to get in touch with her."

There was a long silence, and Katelyn didn't even try to fill it in with useless chitchat. Something unspoken passed between Kent and Merrick.

"I'll get the number for you," Merrick announced.

He turned and went down the hall, presumably to his office. Katelyn didn't take any chances. She positioned herself so that Joe would be able to return fire if the man came back not with an address but with a gun.

Kent picked up a pen and a sheet of note paper from the receptionist's desk. He wrote something down and then handed the paper to Joe. "That's Fiona's cell phone number. I doubt Addison has it. And don't worry. I'm not violating any doctor-patient confidentiality since I've never seen Fiona professionally. The truth is, we met here one evening and exchanged numbers. It didn't work out between us, but she continues to call dozens of times each day."

Joe stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket. "Thanks."

"I'm not doing you any favors," Kent insisted. "The truth is I'm hoping that if the two of you offer Fiona friendship, it'll be a more positive direction for her."

"And maybe she'll stop calling you?" Joe tossed back.

A little flash of anger danced through Kent's eyes before he smiled. "That, too."

Merrick returned and handed Joe a piece of paper as well, but when Katelyn glanced at the number, she realized it wasn't the same one Kent had given them. Maybe one of them would pan out.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," Kent said, taking Merrick's arm. "Addison and I have some things to discuss in private. Good luck with your wedding plans."

Joe and Katelyn started for the door, but he stopped as soon as the two men disappeared into the hall.

"You think Kent drives a black BMW?" Katelyn whispered over the music.

"We'll know soon enough."

He glanced at the corridor on the other side of the room, and she knew what he was thinking. On the pretense of going to the ladies' room, she'd used that corridor to circle around the back of the building so she could get to Merrick's office.

"I can pretend to go to the bathroom," Katelyn suggested. "I might be able to hear what they're discussing."

Joe obviously thought about it but then shook his head. "It's too risky."

"Not if you wander over toward that hall so you could keep an eye on Merrick's office. That way, you can alert me if they come out. And if they're suspicious, you can just say you're waiting for me to get out of the ladies' room. In the meantime, you can call Fiona and check on vehicles registered to Dr. Kent."

"It's still risky."

"So is waiting for the sniper to strike again. I'm betting those two know something."

"Yeah." And he repeated it before he angled his eyes in her direction. "Tell me you can take care of yourself."

Katelyn smiled. Not from joy, exactly. But from the weirdness of the moment. She'd succeeded in winning him over to her impromptu plan, but it didn't exactly leave her feeling victorious. "I'll be careful. You do the same. I'll keep my communicator on in case you need me."

Katelyn gave him one last look, one that she hoped calmed his concerns. But there was nothing calm about what she was feeling.

She drew her weapon, shielding it against her leg and started down the corridor past offices on both sides, the restrooms and then into the back bend of the U-shaped network of hallways. Thankfully, there weren't any employees or clients lingering around.

But had someone turned up the music? The sensual sound of the sax no longer seemed so sensual. It just seemed loud. Overpowering, actually. Or maybe it was because the beat now matched the heartbeat drumming in her ears.

"Everything okay?" Katelyn whispered into her communicator.

"They haven't come out," Joe let her know.

She paused at the final section of the hall that was only about ten yards from Merrick's office and took a quick look around the corner. She caught a glimpse of Joe at the end of the hall before she ducked back.

"Great," she mumbled under her breath.

Even with the music, she should have heard shouting or even a normal conversation between Merrick and Kent. Kent had certainly done some shouting the last time he was there. It was Murphy's Law that he wouldn't cooperate in the volume department today. That meant she needed to get closer.

It wasn't an actual sound that alerted her, but something did. Something that sent her spinning to the side.

Everything happened fast.

Too fast for her to go on the offensive. The man came out from one of the rooms and rammed his body against hers, slamming her against the wall. Her injured arm hit first, and the pain was immediate and searing. Katelyn saw stars.

Another body slam. He threw the full force of his weight right into her. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and while she was fighting to pull air into her lungs, Katelyn got a good look at her attacker's face.

It was Bruce Donovan.

He clamped his hand around the front of her throat. But not to try to choke her, she soon learned. He ripped the communicator from beneath her collar.

"I knew there was something wrong about you," he snarled. "Who the hell are you?"

Katelyn knew she had to act fast. Joe was no doubt already on his way, and she didn't want him walking in on this, especially since he'd have to go past Merrick and Kent first. This was not the time for a gun battle.

Ignoring the pain in her arm and lungs, Katelyn brought up her leg, and using as much force as she could marshal, she kneed Donovan in the groin. He howled in pain and immediately released the grip he had on her.

She didn't stop there.

Katelyn grabbed his forearm and slung him forward so that he was the one against the wall. Face-first. A quick pat down, and she discovered he wasn't armed.

"Kate?" she heard Joe call out.

But that wasn't all she heard. She heard footsteps coming from the other direction, as well. They were all converging toward her.

She kept her forearm pressed against Donovan's back and snatched up her gun. That couple of moments must have given him his second wind because he tried to come at her again. He whirled around, his fist ready to bash her right in the face.

"Kate!" Joe yelled.

She was vaguely aware of Joe rounding the corner. But just vaguely. Thankfully, he didn't dive in and pull a knight-in-shining-armor maneuver. He stayed back and let her do her job.

Katelyn ducked.

Donovan's attempted jab breezed past her head, and in the same motion, she delivered a snap kick to his stomach. She didn't give him a chance to get a second wind. Recoiling, she pivoted and landed another kicking blow to the back of his legs. Donovan went down to the floor, hard, gasping for breath.

It took everything inside her not to slam him right back against that wall and read him his rights. But that wasn't a smart thing to do. There was still a chance that Joe and she could keep their cover intact. If not, then they were in trouble because they were in the same building with three of their four murder suspects.

Doing some light gasping of her own, Katelyn glanced around to get her bearings. Joe was on one side, his weapon drawn. On the other side were Dr. Kent and Merrick. They stood there in stunned silence.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked. The muscles in his jaw had turned to iron. He looked ready to rip Donovan limb from limb.

Katelyn nodded. "He tried to assault me. He wasn't successful." And after delivering that news to Joe, she made certain she added a stern look that hopefully would convince him to stay in cover. "Guess all that self-defense training finally came in handy."

"She's got a gun," Donovan managed to say. He struggled to get to his feet. Staggered. And dropped back to his knees.

Katelyn angled her body so she could deliver another snap kick if necessary. "Good thing too, huh? A woman never knows when she'll need a gun."

Merrick came closer. "What's going on here?" Maybe the adrenaline was clouding her senses, but Katelyn couldn't tell if he was concerned for her, or for Donovan.

"I think she's the sniper," Donovan snarled.

Oh, great.

It was either fast thinking on his part to save his butt, or else he genuinely believed that. If it was the latter, it would explain why he'd come after her in the first place. But Katelyn wasn't about to stake her life on anything that Donovan said. Even if he wasn't the sniper, the man was slime.

"She's wearing some kind of wire." Donovan leaned into the wall so he could stand. Not easily. However, he eventually got to his feet.

"This?" Katelyn made a point of showing both Merrick and Kent her communicator when she picked it up from the floor. "It's not a wire. It's a walkie-talkie, a way for Joe and me to stay in touch when we can't be together. Call me overly devoted, but I like being able to talk with the man I love 24/7."

Joe gave a confirming nod, and turned back his collar so they could see his communicator, as well.

There were several tense seconds, several uncomfortable glances between Kent and Merrick before Merrick finally moved and took Bruce's arm. "Let's discuss this in my office."

"Wait," Donovan said, holding his ground. He fired a nasty glare at her. "If she's not the sniper, then what the hell was she doing sneaking around back here?"

"I was looking for the bathroom," Katelyn quickly provided. No glare for her. She made sure she looked upset, which wasn't that difficult considering what had just gone down. Her heart was still racing from the fight.

More tense moments. Joe walked closer to stand right by her side. Maybe for comfort. Or maybe he just wanted to be in a better position to fire if it came down to that.

"I'm sorry this happened, Kate," Merrick finally said. "I hope you'll accept my apology." And he didn't just say it, either. He appeared to be sorry. Of course, that sincerity could have been for all the wrong reasons. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk with Bruce in private. I trust the two of you can see yourselves out."

Yes, they could do that, but it meant turning their backs on at least one potential killer. Still, leaving was about the only way to maintain their cover. Joe obviously felt the same. He didn't reholster his gun, nor did he take her arm—a move that would have hampered her ability to return fire. However, he did gesture with his head for them to get moving.

Katelyn complied. But she glanced over her shoulder. And neither of them stopped glancing until they were out of the building and in the car.

Joe started the engine and drove away. He made it a full block before he slid his arm around her and pulled her to him. The muscles in his body were still rock-hard, and that jaw told her that he was far from winning the battle with adrenaline.

"Thanks for not jumping in fists first back there when you saw me with Donovan."

It seemed as if several times he changed his mind about what to say. "You didn't appear to need me to jump in."

Oh, that cost him. The words were right. So was the sentiment. However, he'd not said it easily. "I didn't, but Garrett forgets that sometimes."

"I can see why." That was all he said for the next couple of seconds. "Just don't expect me to forget it again if Donovan comes near you."

Chapter Fourteen

Katelyn O'Malley slept the same way she did everything else in life—thoroughly.

At first, she'd balked at his idea of resting while they waited for Fiona to return his call, but once Joe had coaxed her into lying down on the sofa, she'd fallen asleep within minutes. He even managed to take a nap in the adjacent chair. Since they'd gotten virtually no sleep the night before, it was a necessity. He wanted to be as alert as possible for the meeting with Fiona.

And for anything else they might face today.

A lot of things had gone wrong at Perfect Match, and that was an understatement. It could have been much worse. When Donovan came after Katelyn, she'd fought him off, subdued him—all without blowing her cover.

That pissed Joe off.

Katelyn can take care of herself, Brayden had told him. It was true. She could. That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't be hurt. It sure as heck didn't mean she was invincible.

Rather than identify herself to Donovan as a police officer, read the scum his rights and/or take him down the hard way, she'd risked everything. Part of him, the cop part, greatly admired her devotion to duty. But the rest of him just wanted to grab her by the shoulders, give her a hard shake and yell at her for taking chances like that with her life.

Not that yelling would do any good, but at least then she'd know…

…what?

Joe stopped and brooded over that for a moment.

And he decided it wouldn't be a good idea to finish that thought.

He stood, brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and forced his attention away from her mouth—which somehow managed to look both innocent and sensual at the same time. He went into the bathroom so he could call headquarters.

He reached Detective Davidson who in turn transferred his call to Garrett, who'd apparently been doing the trace on the vehicle that'd followed them. Not exactly a duty in Garrett's job description. Well, not unless the case had strayed over into Special Investigations.

"Please tell me you volunteered for this extra work, Sergeant O'Malley," Joe commented.

"What can I say? I'm a glutton for cyber searches," he said sarcastically, but the sarcastic tone quickly faded. "Davidson's working on the wedding details so I figured I'd pitch in and do my part."

In this case, his part was over and above. "Thanks."

"Let's just say you owe me and leave it at that." He didn't give Joe a chance to ask him to elaborate. "Okay, here goes. There are hundreds of black BMWs registered to owners who live in the area. Guess that's not a surprise. So I did some cross-referencing with your suspects and got lucky. One of them has a late model black BMW."

"Bruce Donovan," Joe provided.

"You got it. I guess that's not a surprise either?"

"Not really. He came after Katelyn while we were visiting Merrick."

There was a short pause. "Define came after Katelyn."

Joe hoped this sounded better aloud, but he wasn't counting on it. "Donovan claimed he thought she was the sniper so he tried to apprehend her."

Another pause, a long one, and Joe didn't need to see the man's expression to know that Garrett was not happy with this latest development. "She wasn't hurt?"

"No." But the images of her pulverizing Donovan didn't do much to ease that tight fist around his heart. If she hadn't ducked, if she'd been just an inch or two out of position to deliver those snap kicks, if the man had been a fraction faster, then…

There it was again.

Those running commentaries in his head that he really didn't want to finish. But these wouldn't back off. The truth was, even if all those other things had happened, she would have no doubt found a way to kick Donovan's butt. Katelyn wouldn't have given up.

That last part didn't exactly make him feel better, either.

"She handled Donovan on her own?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah." Joe braced himself for Garrett's lecture that would no doubt contain a lot of profanity and a thorough dressing down for not protecting his sister.

A lecture that didn't come.

"She wouldn't have appreciated the help anyway," Garrett grumbled.

"That was my guess, too."

Now there was some profanity, but it wasn't aimed at Joe. "It doesn't make it any easier to watch."

Joe settled for a "No."

The conversation might have lacked quantity, but at the end of the next pause, Joe felt as if he'd reached some sort of truce with Katelyn's brother. It was a truce he hadn't even realized he wanted until it happened.

"So the next step is to speak to Fiona Shipley?" Garrett asked, getting them back into a comfort zone they both understood—the job.

"I'm waiting for her to return my call now." He checked his watch. That wait was now on its third hour. "I got her cell number from Dr. Kent and left her a message."

"Kent, huh? That's an interesting source for that particular bit of info."

Yes, Joe thought so, as well. "Sometimes, Garrett, I wonder if all four of them aren't in on it. Like some conspiracy to cover up something that got botched either at Perfect Match or Kent's office. They just keep coiling and winding around each other like a nest of vipers."

If he thought for one minute it would stop the sniper, Joe would haul all of them in and lock them up for as long as possible. Without physical evidence to connect them to the crimes, however, that lockup wouldn't last long. They'd lawyer up and be out before the ink dried on the paperwork.

There was a tap at the door, and he opened it to find Katelyn standing there. "Hello, Garrett," she said, leaning closer to the phone. "Thin walls," she added when Joe just looked at her.

"Thanks for the BMW info," he told Garrett. "I'll let you know how it goes with Fiona."

"If it goes," Katelyn corrected when he hung up.

"It'll go." But Joe was beginning to doubt it himself. If she didn't call soon, they'd have to look for her. Fiona was the one player in all of this that they hadn't had a real chance to question. Joe had absolutely no proof, but the feeling in his gut told him that she had information that could help them get a handle on this case.

Or else she was the killer.

But either way, he needed to talk to her. With the wedding only a day away, that talk had to come soon.

Joe watched as Katelyn peeled off her jacket, and in the process he felt his body rev up for all sorts of carnal possibilities. A glimpse of her lacy bra egged those possibilities on even more. But they came to a quick crash and burn when she reached for the first aid kit.

"Another scratch?" he asked. Joe tried to keep emotion out of his voice, but the battle was lost before he opened his mouth.

Katelyn shook her head. "Same one."

She quickly tossed the old bandage in the trash. It wasn't so fast that Joe didn't see the fresh blood.

"That fight with Donovan," he mumbled.

Hell.

"It's no big deal." She wiped the wound with antiseptic, hissed out a breath at the inevitable sting and put on a fresh bandage. "I just didn't want to get any blood on the wedding dress when I try it on to make sure it fits."

He was glad Garrett wasn't around to hear that one. Heck, he didn't even want to hear it, so he focused on the second part of her oh-so-casual comment that wasn't anywhere in the realm of being casual. "What wedding dress?"

She turned and went into the bedroom. "It was in that box Brayden gave you."

And now it was on the bed. The corner of the large rectangular box was lifted slightly, and Joe caught a glimpse of ivory silk.

"Look the other way," she instructed. "I'm about to strip down to my underwear."

His body revved up again. "Modest?" Hard to believe, especially since they had a go at each other in the bathroom the night before.

"No. Considering you've already seen me naked, modesty would be pointless. I just don't want you looking for any bruises that Donovan might have left on me."

Another immediate halt on the revving. With lots of effort, he could ignore the blood comment but not that one. "Damn it, Katelyn, did he hurt you?"

"No, but he likely bruised me when he slammed me against the wall." She discarded her top on the bed and unzipped her skirt. "Don't worry, I'm positive his bumps and bruises outnumber mine, and I seriously doubt he'll be able to sit for a while."

That didn't help one bit. "This isn't a contest. Or a joking matter."

Huffing, she sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the dress from the box. But her attention wasn't on the heap of silk, lace and seed pearls. Her eyes lifted to connect with his. "Don't you think I know that? Care to guess what was going through my mind while I was ramming my knee into Donovan's reproductive organs? I was thinking, no, worrying about you. I was afraid if you came in with guns blazing and fists flying, you'd get hurt."

"Guns blazing and fists flying?" Joe was on the verge of telling her that those things would have never happened. Never. But it was too uncomfortably close to a lie. The truth was he'd considered blazing guns, flying fists and any other extreme force when he saw Donovan swing that punch at Katelyn.

"Great," she mumbled. "Brayden didn't pick this out. This is my mother's dress."

It took Joe a moment to pound down the anger he was still feeling over those possible bruises, but from the groan that Katelyn made, it was obvious they had another problem to deal with first.

"It's a message," she went on. "Like the one in that scene from The Godfather when they sent the fish wrapped up in the newspaper."

Joe shook his head, sure he'd missed something. "I don't make the connection."

"It's my mother's way of saying 'I know you won't do anything that'll result in bullet holes or bloodstains on this wedding dress since it's practically a family heirloom." Katelyn gave a heavy sigh. "She's worried about me."'

"Well, that makes two of us."

Except he knew it wasn't limited to such a small number. There was Brayden, Garrett and probably a whole multitude of other O'Malleys. Joe would have loved to say that their concern wasn't warranted. But it was. In less than twenty-four hours, the undercover assignment would take them in the direction of the church—and the sniper.

He was still in knots about that when he felt her fingertip skim over his stomach. His bare stomach. "Your button's undone," she said, remedying that for him. Well, she remedied it after another brush of her fingertip.

"You're trying to distract me from those possible bruises," he let her know.

"Yes, I am." She smiled, undid the button again and planted a kiss on his stomach. "Is it working?"

He fought to hang on to the anger a little longer, but it slipped away. "Like a charm." And because the distraction felt so damn good, he slid his finger over the lacy edge of her bra. White lace. Against her cream-colored skin. Talk about erotic. Of course, it was highly possible it was erotic simply because it was Katelyn's bra, Katelyn's breast. "What can I say—I'm easy."

"You're a lot of things, Sergeant Joseph Luis Rico, but easy isn't one of them. In fact, I'd say you're the hardest thing in my life right now. And no, there are no raunchy hidden meanings in that."

Joe smiled anyway and pushed the thoughts of bruises and snipers aside when she grabbed a handful of his shirt and hauled him onto the bed with her. He landed on top of her, but like the previous night, she quickly did something about that. Katelyn shifted, rolling them both over the soft mattress, and when she'd finished the rolling she was on top, straddling him.

"Control issues?" he asked.

But her mouth was already swooping down on his. Fast. A hungry kiss that left no doubt that she wasn't after conversation. It was next to impossible to argue with that, even though he should be arguing. Instead, he was just thankful he'd picked up some condoms when he'd filled up the car with gas at the nearby convenience store.

Joe reached up, opened the front closure on her bra and had the satisfaction of her breasts spilling out into his hands. She was small. Firm.

Perfect.

He cupped one, then the other and ran his thumbs over her nipples. It was obvious she enjoyed it from the way her mouth opened, and the soft sound of pleasure she made.

Katelyn didn't take the time to savor that pleasure, however. She pulled off her skirt, dragging it up and over her head and flinging it aside. No pause. No hesitation. She went after his belt and zipper. And Joe surprised her, and himself, by catching on to her wrist to stop her.

"Control issues?" he repeated. "Claustrophobia? Is that why you like to be on top?"

She gave him an all right, here goes huff. "The missionary stuff is just a little scary for me, okay? It's that whole being passive part."

"Passive?" Sex with Katelyn was anything but passive.

Another flustered huff. And a hesitation. "It just doesn't feel right. Or fair. It's almost no work being on the bottom, but yet I'd still get all the…benefits."

Interesting. She carried her belief in the bedroom that she had to work twice as hard and twice as long to get what she wanted.

As her cue that the conversation was over, she leaned down and went after his neck with a kiss. She didn't stop there. Katelyn slid her hand over the front of his pants, a move that had Joe going from seriously aroused to rock-hard. "But if it's something you want—"

Joe ended that with a kiss of his own. "The only thing I want is you, Katelyn."

That slowed her down. She lifted her head, and her gaze met his. In the depth of those green eyes, there was concern that he was sure was mirrored in his. Concern they might have actually discussed.

If his cell phone hadn't rung.

Cursing, she rolled off him so he could snatch the ringing annoyance that was still clipped to his belt. "Hello," he barked. And this had better be important. Critical, even.

"Joe?" the woman said.

Even with the untimely interruption and his reaction to it, it only took him a split second to realize it was Fiona Shipley. He said the woman's name aloud so that Katelyn would know, as well. She moved closer to him so she could hear the conversation.

There wasn't much to hear.

"I'll meet you at the coffee shop at the intersection of Highway 1604 and San Pedro," Fiona instructed. "You know the place?"

"I'll find it."

"Good. I'll see you in one hour. And Joe? My advice is to watch your back. Someone's been following me. I think it might be this sniper."

And with that, Fiona hung up.

* * *

"I GUESS IT WON'T DO any good to remind you this could be a trap?" Katelyn asked.

Joe shook his head, his attention not on her but on driving through the massive parking lot that serviced not just the coffee shop but at least a half dozen other businesses. "What would you do if Merrick, Kent or even, heaven forbid, Donovan called and asked you to meet them?"

It was a cheap—and incredibly effective—way to win an argument.

She'd go, of course. With backup. Which Joe had, since there was no way she'd let him do this alone. That's why Katelyn had worn jeans and a T-shirt and stuffed her hair beneath a Rangers baseball cap. It was as close to a disguise as she could get on such short notice. The plan they'd put together on the drive over was for her to do surveillance from the car and alert him via the communicator if anyone suspicious approached the place.

"What about Fiona's someone's been following me. I think it might be this sniper comment?" Katelyn reminded him. "Think it's true?"

"Could be."

And that was all the more reason to stay alert. She didn't want the sniper or anyone else sneaking up on them.

Joe drove slowly past Java Dan's. It wasn't exactly quaint and cozy with the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that fronted the place. Even though there were only about a half dozen customers, with those windows and jammed parking lot, it'd be next to impossible to make sure someone didn't pull out a rifle and start firing right through that glass.

"I'll sit in a booth near the back," Joe commented, obviously addressing her concern before Katelyn could even voice it. Something he did often. It was almost as if they could read each other's minds.

Almost.

The big exception to that was all the personal stuff going on between them. Other than his the only thing I want is you, Katelyn comment on the bed, they hadn't talked a lot about, well, their feelings.

She took the blame for that though.

She'd done the majority of the stonewalling, but she wouldn't be able to keep it up. Eventually, they'd be alone. Eventually, the phone wouldn't ring, and they'd get around to having that mind-blowing sex that she'd been fantasizing about. In addition to a thoroughly enjoyable experience, which it would certainly be, it'd create a bond between them that even her surly attitude and devotion to the badge might not be able to break.

Still, that wouldn't stop her.

Whatever was brewing between them wouldn't be put off by her doubts. Or her fears.

Frustrated at her inability to keep her mind on the mission, Katelyn checked the time. Since they'd left not long after Fiona's call, they still had a good fifteen minutes to spare. Well, unless the woman was the always-arrive-early type like Katelyn was. If so, then Ms. Shipley might come walking up at any moment.

She glanced in the vanity mirror to make sure her too-visible hair hadn't escaped the cap, and while she was tucking and hiding, something occurred to her. "How about this? I'll take one of the booths on the right, facing the window. That way, I can make sure no one comes in unannounced. You take Fiona to a booth on the other side of the shop."

"And what if she recognizes you?" Joe asked.

"That's what outstretched newspapers are for. I'll buy one on my way in. Look," Katelyn added when she saw the hesitancy in his eyes. "This might be the only chance we get to talk to Fiona. She might know something that can help us stop the sniper."

Joe glanced at the coffee shop. At her. And then at those windows. He shook his head. "Don't make me regret this."

Too bad she couldn't promise him that.

Katelyn wished him good luck and got out before he could change his mind. Keeping a vigilant watch and trying to stay inconspicuous, she hurried across the parking lot and into the shop. As planned, she bought a paper and ducked into one of the booths.

And waited.

Joe came in several minutes later, and he took the only booth that was available on the far side of the room. He was visible, but barely. Katelyn had to scrunch herself in the corner to keep him and the windows in sight.

"Equipment check," she whispered into her communicator.

"I hear you," Joe responded.

So the equipment cooperated. Hopefully, everything else would. She hated stakeouts in public places. There were just too many factors she couldn't control.

The door finally swung open, and Fiona walked in. Obviously this was not one of her better appearance days. Dressed all in dark colors, she had her hair pulled back and was wearing a pair of large-lens sunglasses.

"Joe," Fiona greeted.

Katelyn had a nervous moment when the waiter blocked her line of sight, but thankfully Joe and Fiona ordered quickly, and the man moved.

"I guess you know about the other couple who were shot last night?" Katelyn heard Joe ask the woman right away.

Fiona nodded and pulled off her sunglasses. Katelyn carefully examined her expression now that she could see Fiona's eyes. Her attention wasn't on Joe but the windows. Yes. She was definitely watching her back.

"Both survived," Joe continued. "A lot better outcome than the first couple, that's for sure. What were their names? Something like Ralph and Gail?"

"Raul," Fiona corrected. "We dated, briefly."

Joe didn't respond to that right away. He waited until after they had their coffee, and he took a long sip. It was a good strategy. Fiona was obviously uncomfortable with the silence and began to fidget with her sunglasses.

"The police questioned me about the deaths," Joe finally said. "I guess they did the same to you?"

"I've been, uh, unavailable." Fiona glanced out the window again. Katelyn did the same.

A longer pause this time for Joe. "You said something on the phone about being followed?"

"I think it might be the sniper." But then she immediately shook her head. "Or else it's Addison Merrick. That's one of the reasons I agreed to see you. I noticed you've been visiting him a lot—"

"How did you know that?"

A spark of surprise. Followed by more fidgeting. Another glance out the window. A glance that turned into a full stare. Katelyn followed the woman's gaze to see what had captured her attention and saw the black BMW cruise by.

Judas Priest.

"The BMW's back," Katelyn whispered into the communicator. She moved out to the edge of the seat in case she had to use her weapon.

"You were saying something about Addison," Joe prompted Fiona.

She nodded and moistened her lips. "I wondered if he'd said anything to you about me?"

The car turned, circled and came back toward the coffee shop. If it was Donovan, he was either stupid or desperate. But the real question was, what had made him want to follow Fiona?

Or had he actually followed Joe and her?

Of course, there was also the stomach-churning possibility that it wasn't Donovan at all. Maybe Donovan wasn't the only person with access to a black BMW. Maybe it was Merrick. And maybe Fiona had been right, and it was the sniper following her.

If so, this visit could turn deadly in a hurry.

"Addison's mentioned you a couple of times," Joe told her. Practically a lie, but it seemed to get Fiona's concentration back on him. It also helped her temporary attention deficit when the car darted out of sight again.

"Addison and I started dating after his fiancée broke off their engagement." She moistened her lips again and ran her index finger over her eyebrow. "He was devastated, said he needed me. He even told me that he was in love with me."

"And then what happened?" Joe asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't. He changed, said it wasn't right for him to see me since I was a client. He said he didn't want something like that getting back to his father."

Yes. Merrick definitely wouldn't want that. From all accounts, his father wouldn't have approved of anything that might be detrimental to the business.

"Sometimes, I wonder if Addison's the Veiled Sniper," Fiona said softly. "I mean, all three of those grooms were men I once dated."

"Push that button," Katelyn whispered to Joe, knowing he would have probably jumped on it anyway.

But the pushing wasn't even necessary. Fiona continued on her own. "I think Addison needs help."

"Yeah. I've heard he's in therapy with Dr. Kent," Joe answered.

Fiona made a sound. A soft burst of sarcasm that didn't contain any humor. "Now, there's a pair. The sick trying to heal the sick." Her gaze flew to the window again. "I believe Addison's mentally unstable."

The BMW was back, slowly weaving its way through the parking lot like some demon on the prowl. Those tinted windows only made it seem more menacing.

"What makes you say that?" Joe asked, drawing Fiona's attention back to him.

"He threatened to kill me. Just two weeks ago, I went to the icebreaker at Perfect Match, and he ordered me out. He said he was going to hire a security guard and if I came back, he'd have the guard take care of me. Is that unstable enough for you?" Fiona snatched up her purse but left her sunglasses lying on the table. "Excuse me. I need to go to the ladies' room."

Unfortunately, the ladies' room was close to the booth where Katelyn was sitting. While she tried to keep an eye on the car and Fiona, she lifted the newspaper high enough so the woman couldn't see her face. It worked. Maybe because Fiona was in a serious hurry.

"Where's the BMW?" she heard Joe whisper through the communicator.

"Still circling the place. Should I call a cruiser to pull him over?"

"No. There's no law against driving around a parking lot. Plus, I don't want him to think we have any connection to the police."

Both good points, but it didn't make it any easier to sit there and watch him. "You think Fiona's opinion of Merrick is an act?"

"Could be. She's wired, and it's not from the coffee. She's either scared of Merrick or of her own shadow."

"Or maybe she's just jittery about sitting in a booth with the man she's thinks will be her next victim?"

"That, too," Joe said calmly. Too calmly for Katelyn's liking. After all, they were talking about a potential plan to murder him. "We'll tail her when she leaves and see what she's up to."

The moment Joe said the words, he fired another glance at Katelyn. She understood it without further explanation. "Keep an eye on the BMW, and I'll check on Fiona."

"Be careful," he warned.

Katelyn kept her head low and her hand on her concealed weapon when she went down the short hallway and eased open the swinging door. The bathroom was small. Just one stall. A sink. And an open window.

The room was empty.

Their murder suspect wasn't anywhere in sight.

Chapter Fifteen

"Anything?" Katelyn called out when she heard Joe end his phone conversation with headquarters.

"Nope. No sign of Fiona."

She groaned, but it was exactly the news she'd expected. After all, Fiona had managed to elude the police most of the week, so it wasn't surprising that she'd been able to slip out of a bathroom window at the coffee shop and go on the run again.

Of course, it would have been nice if Joe and she had anticipated that little maneuver so she could have posted herself outside the window and stopped the woman. Instead, they had to accept the fact that Fiona had provided them with a lot more questions than answers and then lulled them into allowing her to escape.

Since hindsight wasn't doing much to improve her mood, Katelyn moved on to the second point of contention.

The wedding dress.

Or more specifically, her mother's wedding dress.

The metaphorical dead fish wrapped in newspaper.

In the adjoining room she heard Joe open the fridge. Maybe an early dinner would keep him occupied while she tried on the dress. It wasn't really modesty that made her want him to stay on the other side of that wall. She just didn't want him to get the idea that she had stars in her eyes and marriage—a genuine marriage—on her mind.

She didn't.

Really.

But she still found herself mumbling profanity under her breath when she held the dress in front of her and glanced at herself in the mirror.

Katelyn frowned.

What was it about lace and silk that managed to make a woman look great, even when that woman didn't want such cosmetic changes? She was practically glowing, and she wasn't the glowing sort.

Was she?

After dwelling on it for a couple of miserable seconds, she realized the idea was growing on her. Well, growing on her if the glowing part included Joe.

She was definitely in trouble.

Since it was making her depressed and since there was no chance she'd be able to do the dozen silk-covered back buttons by herself, Katelyn put the dress aside and moved on to an important logistics problem.

Her weapons.

Hiking up the satiny floor-length slip to her waist, she planted her bare foot on the bed and strapped on a leg holster. Then a second one on her other leg. They'd make great backups, but she still needed a primary position with better accessibility. It'd take her too long to work her way through the yards of silk to get to two semiautomatics. Those excess yards could get them killed—a thought she quickly pushed aside.

That thought didn't stay pushed aside, however.

It came back with a vengeance, and every worst-case scenario started racing through her head. The sniper opening fire. Joe in the path of the bullets. Or Joe protecting her by throwing himself in the path. No matter which way it played out, he'd be right there.

Directly in the path.

Of course, she'd almost certainly do the same, which meant they'd be so busy protecting each other that it would increase the risk a hundred times over.

With each image came the inevitable slam of adrenaline. An increase in her heart rate. A tightening of her muscles. Her imagination was a little too good, because her body was reacting as if the danger was right there in the room with her.

Which in a way, it was, she soon realized.

"Lara Croft has nothing on you," Joe commented.

He was standing in the doorway, one hand bracketed on the frame. A beer in his other hand. With his shirt unbuttoned, his hair mussed and that desperado stubble shadowing his sexy chin, he looked like the main player in her darkest fears. Her hottest fantasies.

And like the source of her only sanctuary.

She wasn't sure which one worried her most.

"Maybe you can put your primary in your bouquet?" he suggested.

She heard herself mumble it's not big enough, but the truth was his comment barely penetrated her consciousness. Katelyn turned and went to him. Not for sex. It would have been so much easier if it'd been just for that. But she needed to melt into his arms. She needed to feel that all would be right with the world. At the moment, she just wanted those frightening images of snipers and death to go away. Joe could do that for her. He could become her sanctuary.

And he cooperated.

Joe put his beer on the dresser. As if he had all the time in the world, he circled his arm around her. He drew her to him and touched his mouth to hers. Slow and lingering. Tender. A touch that gave her a little too much time to consider exactly what was happening.

Her slip was cut low in the back, and Joe skimmed a finger down her bare skin, tracing her spine all the way down.

The heat rolled through her.

"I won't have to think about this if it's fast," she whispered against his mouth.

"I know."

With that assurance, he didn't speed up. In fact, that single stroking, sliding finger on her back slowed to a trickle. Hardly a touch at all. He handled her like fragile, paper-thin crystal and fueled a lot of flames in the process.

Did he know what this was doing to her?

No doubt.

Katelyn tried to speed things up on her own. She French kissed him. Deep and hungry. And then took those kisses to his ear, and then his neck. A major attention getter, she'd already learned, and his slight rattle of breath let her know she'd gotten his attention in exactly the way she wanted to get it.

She pushed down the slip, stepped out of it, and with his cooperation, she maneuvered them across the room.

The cooperation didn't continue.

Joe stopped them just short of the bed. He leaned down. No hurried motion, either. He brushed a kiss on the top of her right breast. Then on the left. He kept going down. Kissing. Her stomach. Her hip. The lower front of her panties. Until he reached for her ankle.

Finally, she thought. Finally!

This would lead to something wild, hot and fast. A bout of mind-boggling sex that would occupy her mind so she wouldn't worry. But he slid his clever hand up, over her leg. Over her knee. And slowly, leisurely made his way to her thigh.

He was getting closer, but it definitely wasn't where she wanted his hand.

"Joe?" Katelyn whispered, trying to convey the urgency. She got off his shirt, somehow, and had the pleasure of feeling his chest muscles jump beneath her fingers.

"Shh," he answered, his warm breath brushing against her skin. He unstrapped her holsters, one by one, and laid them on the nightstand. "It's all right."

But was it? Was it really?

The room seemed to be turning. Not quickly, either. Slowly, like his touch. Like some gentle spiral pulling her down into it. She couldn't catch her breath. And why was her heart pounding so hard? It wasn't the only thing pounding, either. Every inch of her ached. Pulsed.

Burned.

This wasn't sex. It couldn't be. This was something leaps and bounds beyond that. Something so intimate, it frightened her almost as much as those other deadly images in her head.

Shaken, Katelyn tried again, pulling Joe onto the bed next to her. She succeeded and even managed to shove down his pants and anchor her leg over his so he wouldn't move away. It didn't stop his slow, methodical hands or mouth. He kissed her. Touched her.

Really touched her.

Those fingers moved over her. Exploring. Discovering. Pleasuring her.

He slipped his hand into her panties. He was definitely getting closer, but what she had in mind was having him inside her. Now.

"I have a condom," she said in between breaths. Just in case that was the issue here. She'd picked up some when Joe had filled up the car at the convenience store and had gotten a strange look from the clerk.

"I have some, too," he informed her right back.

Okay. So if safe sex wasn't the issue, then what the heck was?

With those same slow strokes that matched his incredibly slow kiss, he eased his fingers inside her. Not especially deep. But then, deep wasn't necessary. He got the right spot.

Definitely.

The right pace. That, too.

And he even had the perfect pressure to make her forget all about the speed that she'd thought she wanted.

No.

She wanted this instead.

And Katelyn suddenly didn't care if it took all night for him to get her there.

It occurred to her that she should be pleasuring him as well, but even that thought faded when he turned them until they were face-to-face, and he slid down her body. His hair, his face, his mouth brushed against her skin. Joe kissed her along the way, not missing any available spot, before he rid her of her panties.

In a move that had her wondering what she'd done to deserve this special treatment, or Joe, he replaced those clever fingers with his mouth.

The room didn't just turn. It whirled around. Her breath vanished. Her heart slammed against her chest. And she was lost. Willingly lost.

Katelyn moaned, arched into him and ran her own hand into his hair. Her body sought out everything he was giving her. His mouth and tongue took her higher. Higher. Higher. Until letting go was her only option.

So she did. Katelyn let go. And Joe sent her world spinning out of control.

* * *

IT DIDN'T TAKE long before Katelyn came back down to Earth. Mere seconds. Not that Joe had expected her to languish in the aftermath, especially when she realized he'd pulled a fast one on her.

Or rather, a slow one.

That climax obviously had its intended effect—to take off the edge. To lessen some of that raw energy inside her so they could spend a little time—all right, a lot of time—just enjoying each other.

It worked.

She moved almost lazily and smiled the smile of a sated woman—who planned to do some sating of her own.

Katelyn tugged off his boxers while she reached over and took a condom from her purse on the nightstand. She did all the work of putting it on him and made his eyes cross in the process.

When she finished, he caught the back of her neck and pulled her to him. He kissed her. Hot and deep. And did a necessary repositioning of their bodies so that she was on top of him and so that he didn't hurt her arm. He took a moment to savor the sight of her.

All that strength.

All that beauty.

Leaning forward, she slid her hands slowly over his chest, her palms gliding through the sweat that already dampened his skin. "Ready for the ride of your life?" she whispered like a challenge.

"Are you?" he fired back.

She laughed. And he savored that as well, for a moment or two, before he moved just slightly beneath her. The tip of his erection grazed her. And judging from the way her eyelids fluttered and the shudder that went through her body, he'd grazed her in just the right place.

That sent her in search of him. Not that she had to search far, but she shifted. Restlessly. Seeking. Joe did some seeking of his own.

One thrust, and he was inside her.

Oh, man.

It was better than he'd anticipated. A hell of a lot better. And his anticipation had been pretty darn high.

She reared up, her fiery hair like a halo around her face. Bracketing her hands on his chest, she began to move. Joe caught her hips, to guide her, to take them both where they needed to go.

Picking up the pace, she rocked and slid against him. Their bodies creating the friction. The deep, intimate contact. The rhythm. Until she had him close. This wasn't simply to take off the edge, either. She was obviously aiming for something he'd never forget—as if he ever could.

Then, she stopped.

Just stopped.

Joe fought through the haze and stared at her to see why she'd done that.

"What's wrong?" he managed to say.

She hovered above him, staring, and then she reached down and laced her fingers with his. "Are you okay with me being on top?"

It wasn't exactly a question he'd been expecting, and even though just about every inch of him was throbbing for release, he took the time to grasp what she was saying.

And what she was saying was a lot.

He nodded. It was the best he could manage. For some reason, his throat had clamped shut.

Katelyn returned the nod, and there was no apprehension, no hesitancy in her clear green eyes when she lowered her body and lay against him. Her bare breasts against his chest. Her face touching his.

Without fully breaking the intimate contact of their joined bodies, she slowly rolled over. Until their positions were reversed. Until he was looking down at her.

Joe held his breath.

"It's good," she said, sounding not surprised but rather pleased with her decision.

He held his breath a little longer, until she moved. Not a move to get away from him, either. But up. With some not-so-gentle pressure, she dug her heels into the mattress, lifted her hips, then wrapped her legs around him.

And sent him sliding deep inside her.

Now he breathed. Long and rough. He fought to keep a restraint on everything that she'd unleashed inside him, but it was a fight he knew he'd soon lose.

"Am I too heavy for you?" Joe asked. Not easily, but he asked it anyway because it was important.

"No." She repeated it and kissed him. "It's a lot better than I ever thought it would be."

"I know the feeling," he mumbled.

And he was absolutely sure she knew he wasn't just talking about their present position.

He tested the waters and moved inside her. A short, quick, easy stroke. The test was a success.

Man, was it ever.

After a few more of those testing strokes, his body was already pleading with him to take this, and her, to the next level. But then, Katelyn's body was doing the same. Despite her climax only minutes earlier, he felt the aftershocks gain new life before they'd even fully subsided.

Still careful not to make her feel trapped beneath him, Joe gathered her into his arms. He took everything she offered. Everything. And he made sure he gave it right back to her. He moved high against her, hard inside her. Deep. Sliding through the slick, hot moisture of her body.

When she begged him for more, he gave it to her. He went higher still and found a responsive, sensitive spot that made her shudder.

She insisted on more.

He gave it to her.

No longer wary of her response, he pinned her hands to the bed and was pleased when she jerked and twisted beneath him. Not to get away. No, the throaty moan, the half smile, the scorching look in her eyes was the best welcome home, Joe he could have ever gotten.

Her legs tightened around him. They matched each other. Move for move. Frantic stroke for frantic stroke. Until the pressure built to an unbearable level. And yet they continued. Somehow. Trying to hang on to every second, every sensation.

They climbed, together.

Drawing on each other.

Feeding each other.

Pleasuring each other.

To get to the only place they wanted to go.

She came in a flash, whispering his name in rhythm to the shudders that ravaged through her. He heard her murmurs over his own heartbeat, over his heavy breath. Over hers. It was her surrender. A sweet, sensual, complete surrender.

Joe buried his face against her neck and surrendered right along with her.

Chapter Sixteen

Naked, Joe eased out of the bed. The room was dark. Pitch black, actually. He'd been so wrapped up in Katelyn that he hadn't even noticed that the sun had set.

She stirred, reaching for him, but he kissed her hand and placed it gently on the pillow. She went back to sleep almost immediately.

He pulled on his pants. Grabbed his cell phone, and went into the living room, shutting the door between Katelyn and him. The A/C was on full-blast and he hoped the hum of the cool air seeping through the vents would create enough white noise that his conversation wouldn't wake her.

This wasn't something he especially wanted her to hear.

After he turned on the lamp, Joe took out his wallet and located the private number for Chief Ryland. It was on a business card tucked behind the only photo he carried. A posed family shot with his parents, his brothers and him. One taken years ago, when his father and he had still been on speaking terms.

He pushed that particular reminder aside, laid his wallet on the end table and pressed in the numbers. Ryland answered the phone.

"Two things," Joe started after they got past the hellos. He sat down even though he figured this might not be an especially long conversation. "There's not even a hint of impropriety or favoritism on Brayden O'Malley's part. He runs a clean department, and I don't want to be part of any witch hunt designed to bring him down."

The chief paused, made a sound to indicate he was thinking about that. "Mind sharing with me how you arrived at this conclusion?"

"I asked questions. A lot of them. In fact, I spent most of Monday and Tuesday doing just that. And I've watched how the man operates. Brayden doesn't need to rely on favoritism and impropriety. He gets the job done the old-fashioned way, through hard work and dedication. You're lucky to have him on your team."

"Pretty frank talk," Ryland grumbled.

"You mean frank talk for a man who's on the brink of a potential promotion?" Joe didn't wait for Ryland to confirm it. "And that brings me to the second thing I want to discuss. After this case, I'll need to be moved from Homicide."

"Say what? I don't think I heard you right, Rico. You want to be moved from a department you fought for months to get into?" Another of those sounds of contemplation. "Does this have anything to do with Katelyn O'Malley?"

"It does," Joe admitted. "I'm personally involved with her, and that means we shouldn't be working together."

"Well, yeah, it happens. Personal involvement, I mean. Work hard, play hard, and all that other crap we do to get us through the night. But that doesn't mean you have to leave Homicide. I can have her moved instead."

"No," Joe quickly answered. "She stays in Homicide. I'm the one requesting the transfer."

"No?" Ryland repeated. "I swear I didn't see anything in your records to indicate you'd let yourself be ruled by playing hard. You've been like a bulldozer, Rico, pushing and shoving your way to the top."

"Well, things change." For the first time in his career, there was something more important than the bulldozing, the pushing and the shoving. More important even than his badge.

Katelyn.

Now he had to do everything in his power to prevent her from being killed.

Ryland made Joe wait several seconds before he delivered his verdict. But the verdict wasn't exactly conclusive. "I'll get back to you on these two things you just dumped in my lap," Ryland finally snarled. "In the meantime, you and Katelyn O'Malley need to collar this scumhead Veiled Sniper and get the press and the whiny watchdog groups off my back."

"We're doing our best."

"Yeah, well, do better." And with the gruff farewell, the chief hung up.

Joe punched the end call button with his thumb and put the phone on the end table next to him.

"Thin walls," he heard Katelyn say. He also heard the mattress springs groan when she got off the bed. She appeared in the doorway wearing only her panties, slipping on a shirt. His shirt. "Are you sorry you just made that call?"

"No." Joe didn't even have to think about it.

The call was a necessity. But he gave some thought to her. Her hair was all messed up, in a very sexy sort of way with loose, damp strands framing her face.

And then there was her mouth.

Man, her mouth always sucker punched him. Her lips were still swollen from the torrid war they'd waged with his mouth.

"Any idea what you look like standing there?" he asked.

She glanced down at her seminaked torso and smiled. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe. But if so, your distraction's a heck of a lot better than mine."

"Is that right?" Still smiling, she crossed the room. Instead of climbing onto his lap—something he was fantasizing about—Katelyn pulled the sides of the shirt over her naked breasts and dropped down on the sofa next to him. She linked her fingers with his, brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

"This morning I asked Brayden to transfer me to another department," she said with her mouth still against his skin. "With the latest round of retirements, I could move to Special Investigations or Vice—"

"No. That's not fair to you. I'm the newcomer. You earned your spot in Homicide."

She climbed onto his lap. Maybe it was to distract him so he couldn't win this argument. He tried not to let her succeed. His resolve faltered a little when her silky leg brushed against his arm as she straddled him. However, instead of doing anything sexual, she kissed his cheek. It was almost chaste.

Almost.

"We are so pathetic." She chuckled. "Brayden and Garrett would have so much fun if they could see this. You and me arguing with each because we're both putting the other first. It's one for the record, Joe."

Because it was peeking out at him, he gave her right nipple a gentle pinch. "Frankly, I'm glad they aren't here to see this. Having an audience would spoil the moment. And they'd probably try to beat me senseless."

She shook her head, and the swish of movement exposed her other breast. No pinch this time. But he leaned forward and nipped the tight bud with his teeth.

Katelyn sucked in her breath, gave his already hardening erection a little nudge, but she stopped him from closing his mouth around her nipple.

"Seriously," she said, pressing her fingers over his lips. "My brothers respect you. And they like you, despite all that posturing and bravado." She reached over and picked up the photo that he'd left on the end table.

"What about them?" she asked.

"I don't think they like me." Normally, this would have been the point in the conversation where Joe clammed up, but there was nothing normal about anything anymore. "My mother died six weeks ago. A drunk driver broadsided her on the way to mass one Sunday morning."

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Joe." It wasn't just lip service, either. Katelyn gathered him in her arms, held him and brushed another kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, he saw that her eyes were misty with tears.

He almost shrugged, but decided the tough-guy facade wasn't necessary. "I didn't get to make my peace with her before she died."

She nodded. "That explains the personal leave you took right before your transfer. I read your file," Katelyn admitted.

Yes. He remembered.

She probably could have offered a sincere condolence or insisted that his dream of being a cop wasn't something for which he should have to make peace. But she didn't. Katelyn sat there and held him.

They stayed that way, wrapped around each other for heaven knows how long. Long enough for Joe to realize that walking away from Katelyn O'Malley wouldn't be just hard.

It would be impossible.

* * *

AS INCREDIBLE as Joe's arms were, one glance at the clock, and Katelyn knew it was time to get to work. She lifted her head from his shoulder, kissed him—for slightly longer than she'd planned—and eased off his lap.

"I need to try on the dress," she let him know. "I have to figure out where I can put my weapon."

Groaning as he got to his feet, he followed her into the bedroom and stood in the doorway, watching her. "You said the bouquet was too small to use for cover?"

"Yes." She pointed to the small silk floral arrangement that had been stuffed into the box with the dress. "Baby's breath and miniature pink rosebuds just aren't very effective for hiding Glocks. Go figure."

She put on her bra and long slip first, and then, as if bracing herself for a flu shot, Katelyn grabbed the dress. She eased it on over her head.

The silk whispered over her skin.

A seriously nice sensation she tried to ignore.

"I'll need you to do the buttons," she said, ignoring the mirror, as well. She hitched her thumb to the back of the dress and stepped into the satiny pair of off-white shoes. Heels. Uncomfortable ones that pinched her toes. But they put the finishing touches on the costume.

Joe moved behind her. And then he moved her. He positioned her directly in front of the mirror affixed to the outside of the bathroom door. A wide, full-length mirror.

The very one she'd been trying to avoid.

"We're going to look like those plastic figures that go on top of wedding cakes," she complained as he fastened the buttons.

Not exactly true. The dress was real. Joe was real. And what she felt for him was as real as it got. Still, she'd keep that to herself. With the mission all but closing in around them, this wasn't the time to pour out her heart.

He reached in the closet, extracted his tux shirt and jacket and put them on. Since he was already wearing black pants, the only thing missing was the tie. In true badass form, he threaded it around his collar and left it loose so it dangled against the front of his shirt.

Oh, mercy.

Talk about a surefire way to lose her breath. He simply took it away.

He brushed a kiss on her neck, met her gaze in the mirror, and smiled.

To give her hands something to do, she snatched up the bouquet and the Glock. Somehow, even the sinister-looking gun couldn't kill the moment.

But the doorbell did.

Katelyn groaned when she heard the incredibly annoying sound. Joe went one step better and cursed.

"Just a minute," she called out to the visitor.

She tossed the bouquet on the bed and checked the time again. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. Not good. It was probably Garrett or Brayden, which meant something had gone wrong.

And that put her on immediate alert.

It obviously did the same for Joe. He hurriedly put on his shoes and grabbed his weapon.

The bell rang again. Not a quick jab of sound this time, but a long wail of noise, as if somebody was leaning on the darn thing. When the noise finally stopped, Katelyn heard a barely audible groan.

"Who is it?" she asked.

The person answered, something weak and muffled. It was a man, and the image of her brothers, wounded, flew through her head. She turned to run toward the door, but Joe grabbed her arm.

The feeling of panic and dread was so strong, so overwhelming, that Katelyn nearly pushed him away so she could make sure neither Garrett nor Brayden were hurt.

"Don't do it. It could be a trap," Joe reminded her.

He was right, of course. After all, they were deep in an undercover murder investigation, and someone had already tried to kill them. It was procedure to stay back, to make sure they wouldn't be facing a gun when they opened that door. Still, she had to battle everything inside her to keep from throwing open the door.

And more—she had to trust that Joe was doing the right thing.

"Stay behind me," Joe instructed. He aimed his gun and while staying low, he went into the living room. He reached over and turned off the lamp.

"Please help me," the voice said from outside the door.

She listened for anything recognizable about it, but again it was hardly more than a murmur of pain. If it were a trap, if the person was faking, he was doing an incredibly convincing job. Her heart was racing. Her breath was in her throat. And that buzz was there. That awful buzz in her head that told her all was far from being well.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and soon the illumination from the stove panel allowed her to see the two windows that flanked the door. Not clearly, but at least she could maneuver around and not bump into anything.

Moving slowly, Joe inched away from the lamp toward the window that was closest to him. Katelyn followed. Not easily though. The dress wasn't exactly meant for skulking about, but there was no way she could take the time to undo all those buttons and change into something more maneuverable.

Joe didn't step in front of the window but instead crouched even lower and lifted the blinds just a fraction.

"The security lights in the parking lot are out," he whispered.

Okay. That didn't help. Since they'd been working fine the night before, she had to assume that someone had tampered with them.

"Who's out there?" Joe yelled. He immediately shifted his position so that if it was indeed a trap, the person wouldn't be able to pinpoint his position.

The only response they got was another of those painful groans.

Mercy. She prayed it wasn't one of her brothers.

"Call for backup," Joe said. "But tell them not to approach the building, to stay back and await orders." He tossed her his cell phone.

Katelyn snatched it from the air, flipped it open and would have pressed in the numbers for headquarters if something hadn't distracted her.

Something seeping from beneath the door onto the tiny patch of cream-colored tile.

It was blood.

And lots of it.

Chapter Seventeen

"Joe?" Katelyn whispered.

He glanced at her, and she tipped her head toward the floor. Joe had no trouble whatsoever spotting the dark pool of blood.

Hell.

Whoever was out there was either putting on a very convincing show with fake blood, or else the man was genuinely dying.

"Call for backup," Joe reminded her, and he shouted to the person on the other side of the door. "Who's out there?"

"Bruce," the man finally answered.

Even though Katelyn didn't waiver from calling headquarters, Joe saw the relief flash through her eyes. It wasn't her brothers out there but Bruce Donovan. That realization would help her regain her focus.

Thank God.

Because Joe was a hundred percent sure they'd both need all the focus they could get.

"Someone…shot me," Donovan added. He sounded as if he was getting weaker by the moment.

But the key words were as if because there were a lot of as if's about this situation that could get them killed.

"Backup's on the way," Katelyn let him know.

Joe nodded and returned his attention to the pseudo interrogation with his possibly wounded suspect. "Who shot you, Donovan?"

"Uh…I don't know. I didn't see who it was, but the bullet was fired from a gun with a silencer. I didn't hear it until it was too late. Please let me in."

Oh, yeah. Like they were going to do that any time soon. Donovan was their number one murder suspect, and this was exactly the kind of trap a guy like him would try to pull.

"I think it might have been Fiona who shot me," Donovan tried again. "I've been following her." He paused for another of those gasps. "She might be the sniper."

"It's funny you mentioned that. I was thinking the same thing about you."

"Not me." And Donovan repeated it like a mantra. A mantra that got weaker with each word.

Joe glanced at the pool of blood. It was spreading. If by some miracle Donovan was telling the truth, he was bleeding out fast.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Katelyn asked.

He nodded. "But tell them the same thing you told backup. I don't want them to approach the suspect. I want them to wait until they have clearance from either me, you or the backup officers."

"Fiona's crazy enough to do this," Donovan went on, the pitch of his voice wavering wildly. "She has this problem…She, uh, flies off the handle when a man rejects her. She's been stalking Addison."

Joe hadn't needed Donovan to tell him that. "What were you doing here anyway?"

"Watching you and Kate," he readily admitted. "I figured if Fiona wasn't the sniper, then maybe it was…the two of you. I wanted to stop anyone else from dying."

"Playing detective can be dangerous," Joe growled.

He hurried past the door to the other window and peered through the corner of the blinds. There was just enough light from the nearby apartment complex for him to see the shadowy figure lying on the small concrete entry just outside the door. The person was curled up in a fetal position—maybe out of fear. Or maybe Donovan was trying to conceal a weapon.

"Is he armed?" Katelyn whispered. She put the phone on the snack bar and aimed both her guns at the door.

Joe shook his head. "I can't tell."

And that left him with a serious dilemma. If by some miracle what Donovan said was the truth, if Fiona had indeed shot him, then the man needed help. Render assistance, was what Joe had been taught to do. That was training.

Procedure.

But if this was a trap, then the sniper was the one calling the shots. Literally. Because when backup or the ambulance arrived in the next couple of minutes, that would put them in the line of fire, as well.

If it comes down to a situation where someone negates the rules, trust Katelyn, Brayden had said.

All in all, it was damn good advice.

"What does your gut instinct say about this?" Joe asked her in a whisper.

Katelyn blinked, probably surprised that he'd put this on her shoulders, but he was positive her shoulders could handle it.

She glanced at the blood again. "I don't think Donovan's the sniper. He wouldn't have gotten this close because he doesn't trust me not to kill him on the spot. My guess is he's the bait. And I think if we open that door, then someone will open fire on us."

Joe nodded. Everything she said made sense. So he had his answer, and he took it one step further.

Moving back to the window and without touching the blinds, he looked out into the parking lot for any sign of the person who'd likely shot Donovan and was trying to use the man to draw them out.

"See anything?" Katelyn asked.

"No."

Well, nothing other than at least three dozen cars, all jammed into the space that separated the two multistory apartment buildings. But a car probably wouldn't have given the sniper a good view, since their apartment was on the second floor. No. He or she would want to be higher.

Joe's gaze combed over the masonry fence located at the back of the parking lot. It was a possibility and would provide an escape since there was an alley by it and then a street just on the other side.

But the angle was all wrong.

It was the same for the street on the left. A bad angle, and it was way too visible. This guy liked to stand back, aim and fire. He liked hiding.

That left the three-story apartment building directly across from them.

It was a good deduction, he soon realized. Because Joe caught a glint of something. Just a glimmer of movement.

"Get down," he yelled to Katelyn. And he dove for the floor.

Right before the shot came crashing through the window where he'd been standing.

* * *

KATELYN HIT the floor, sheltering her face and eyes from the flying glass. Joe did the same, but in their scramble to get away from the gunfire, they ended on opposite sides of the room.

And worse, the gunfire wasn't a single shot.

Another quickly followed and tore its way through what was left of the glass. And another. Just like the night in the alley and that day at the church, it was a barrage.

"Those shots are too high to have come from Donovan," Joe shouted over the blasts.

Katelyn agreed. That meant she'd been right about him not being the sniper.

For all the good it'd done her.

They were still pinned down. Still in danger. But at least the sniper didn't seem to be shooting at Donovan. Now that she knew he might be an innocent player in this, she didn't want another bullet hitting him.

"The bedroom," Joe yelled.

Katelyn kept her weapon in her hands, but she threw open the door so that Donovan could perhaps get inside. He did. Crawling and groaning. And she saw the still-spreading stain of blood on his shoulder and the front of his shirt. No weapon, but even if he'd had one, he was likely too weak to use it.

"The ambulance is on the way," she told Donovan. "Stay down."

With Joe yelling for her to hurry, she crawled toward him. Not easily. The bulky dress got in her way. And even after she got into the bedroom, Katelyn discovered it wasn't much safer than the area they'd just left.

The single window near the head of the bed was taking a pounding as well, and there was glass strewn all over the bedding. She reached over the debris and grabbed their communicators from the nightstand. If they got separated during an escape, they'd need them.

Joe circled an arm around her waist and pushed her into the bathroom. He didn't stop there. He got them into the tiled shower. A temporary safe haven. But only temporary. Only long enough for them to come up with a plan.

The shots continued through the bedroom window and were already gashing holes in the wall. If the sniper kept the firepower pinpointed, then those bullets would eventually come through the tile.

"How about the balcony?" she asked. "It's on the opposite side of the building from those shots."

Joe's gaze met hers, and she knew it was something he had already considered. And he'd also already dismissed it because of the danger.

"Whoever that sniper is, he or she will kill anyone who tries to help us," Katelyn pointed out. "The stray shots—"

"There aren't enough stray shots," Joe insisted.

Somehow, she heard him over the racket and over the pounding of her heartbeat.

He was right.

There weren't many strays. The shots were going through the window with much better than average precision, far more accurate than the gunfire they'd encountered at the church or in the alley. This pattern was more like the first shooting.

The one that had killed Gail and her groom.

Katelyn might have taken longer to consider that inconsistency if a bullet hadn't come through the wall and the tile.

Joe shoved her down with the bits of ceramic and plaster. The deafening noise continued to crash around them.

"We'll go out the balcony," Joe instructed. "We'll climb down the fire escape and circle back around to the edge of the building. I might be able to get a good enough look to pick off the sniper."

"You think the sniper's on the roof of that apartment building?" she asked.

"I know he is. I got a glimpse of something before he fired. I'm almost positive he's on the right side of a huge ventilation shaft where no one can see him from the street."

And it would also allow the gunman refuge since it'd take a while for the cops to block off that street. Then, he could probably escape over that fence into the alley. From there he'd simply fade into the city.

Unless they stopped him first.

"What do you want me do?" Katelyn asked.

He ducked his head when a shot rammed through another section of the tile. "After we're on the ground, one of us will need to go to the left of the building."

For a distraction. A necessary one. If she had the layout of the roof correct in her mind, the left was the sniper's blindside since he was on the right of the ventilation shaft. That meant one of them had to be the diversion while the other delivered the shot that would hopefully take him out.

"You'll be the diversion," Joe insisted.

Because it was the safer of two positions. The sniper would have to leave cover to return fire at the person creating the diversion. But if the shooter didn't do that, if the ploy didn't work, then that would leave the person on the right—Joe—in the killer's direct line of fire.

Oh, God.

It wasn't a scenario she even wanted to consider. Katelyn would have much preferred to take the more dangerous route herself. In fact, her heart screamed for her to do just that, to protect him at all cost.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't.

Because it wasn't just their lives at stake. Donovan needed medical attention, fast. The medics couldn't get to him until Joe and she stopped the sniper. If they didn't stop him, now, he'd continue to fire, he'd continue to kill.

And simply put, Joe was the best shot.

She choked back the sob that threatened to make its way past her throat. But she couldn't stop the fear. Nothing could do that. Her hand was trembling when she draped the communicator around his neck and did the same to hers.

Katelyn pressed her mouth to his. Something brief but hopefully it said a lot more than words, because they didn't have time for long explanations.

"Don't you dare fail," she insisted.

His jaw muscles went to war with each other. "You, either."

That was it as for goodbyes.

But it was enough.

"When we get outside, hurry," Joe insisted, swallowing hard. "Use every bit of speed that I know you have because I don't want you out in the open any longer than necessary. Maintain cover and fire a shot or two to get his attention. That's it. Only a shot or two, and only if it's safe."

She nodded. Took a deep breath. And the moment he said, "Let's go," Katelyn did.

They stayed on the floor, crawling their way to the balcony. There was a pause in the shots. As he'd done at the church, the gunman was probably reloading or trading weapons. Joe and she used that lapse to their advantage. They went out onto the balcony and climbed over the railing to the fire escape.

"Equipment check," she said into her communicator.

"I hear you," Joe responded.

The shots started up again. Another barrage. Another attempt to kill whoever got in the way.

Adrenaline was like a knife cutting through her lungs. The thick humid air didn't help, either. But she ran, even in the heels and the dress, Katelyn ran as if her very life depended on it. Because it did. And not just her life, but Joe's. If she blew this diversion, then the sniper would go after him.

That couldn't happen.

She slowed down as she neared the corner and checked her surroundings to make sure the angle of the shots hadn't changed. They hadn't. The sniper was still on the roof, even though she couldn't see him. Not even a glimpse.

And that was what she had to remedy. She needed him or her out in the open for at least a second or two.

"I'm in position," she relayed to Joe.

"So am I. You go on three. I'll go on four."

"One," they counted in unison.

"Two."

"Three."

Katelyn pulled her breath, darted out from behind the cover of the building. And fired.

So did the sniper.

Right at her.

Chapter Eighteen

It'd happened too fast.

On the count of three Joe had expected to hear Katelyn's shot, and by the four count, he figured the sniper would come out from cover to take aim at her. By five, Joe was supposed to have already fired a deadly shot that would keep Katelyn out of harm's way.

He was wrong.

Things didn't happen as planned.

Katelyn fired. He'd heard that all right. But then, the sniper fired, too. Immediately. Not a second later as he should have done.

A thousand thoughts went through Joe's head. None good. This was what he feared most. Not losing a promotion. Not blowing a case. But losing Katelyn.

He couldn't lose her.

"Say something!" Joe demanded into his communicator. And he held his breath.

"I'm okay."

Those two words were the most welcome two words he'd ever heard. Joe leaned his shoulder against the building and let it support him.

"He missed," Katelyn added. "I'll try again—"

"No! He'll be looking for you. He aimed right at you, Katelyn, and that means he's not hiding behind the ventilation shaft but he's crouched down in front of it."

"Okay," and she repeated it. "So how about this? I strip off the dress and toss it into the parking lot. It's big enough and light-colored enough to make a great distraction. When he fires at it, I'll shoot to draw him out, and then you can do your Robocop thing."

He didn't have enough breath left to ask about that Robocop reference, and from the ragged pauses in her own breathing and the sound of tearing fabric, he could tell she was already getting out of that dress.

Joe moved into position.

"On three," Katelyn said. And she didn't hesitate long enough for him to change his mind.

"One. Two. Three."

Nothing.

Then, something.

A blast of sound. From Katelyn's gun. And once again, the sniper fired right at her without so much as lifting his head. But this time, Joe did see the barrel of the rifle.

"Talk to me, Katelyn," Joe barked.

She didn't.

Not one word.

"Talk to me!" he repeated.

"She dove into some shrubs," Joe heard someone say through his communicator. Not Katelyn. But Garrett.

"Is she all right?" Joe immediately asked.

"Hard to say."

Not the reassurance Joe needed, especially since she wasn't giving him that reassurance herself. He consoled himself with the possibility her communicator had been damaged in the fall.

"How about you?" Garrett again. "You have a visual on this sniper?"

"If I did, he'd already be dead."

But what Joe did have was the next best thing. He knew the sniper's position. If he aimed just below where he'd seen that rifle, then he could perhaps kill him before he did any more damage.

First though, he had to make sure Katelyn was all right.

"Katelyn?" Joe barked. "If you're there, talk to me."

The next few seconds dragged into an eternity.

"We'll keep monitoring this line, and I'll do some adjusting to see if we can increase reception so we can contact her," Garrett explained. "We're assembling a team to go on the roof, but we're still a good ten, maybe fifteen minutes out."

At the moment, ten or fifteen was a couple of lifetimes. They didn't have lifetimes.

"Make sure that masonry fence is covered," Joe insisted.

"It is. Don't worry. If this guy tries to get down, he won't get far."

Maybe. But it was a risk Joe didn't want to take. He wanted to end it here and now—after he made sure Katelyn was safe.

More seconds. Long ones. And just when Joe was ready to break into a run and check on Katelyn, her voice came through the communicator. "Joe, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear." Thank God. He was glad he was still leaning against that wall. "I thought I'd lost you."

"No way. My communicator fell off, and I had to find it. Are you okay?"

"I am now. Stay put. I'll get this guy."

"Wait. That sounds scary. I don't want the details though," Katelyn quickly added. "Just please don't do anything…Mercy, I was about to say dangerous, but it will be. It just will be."

She was right, and there was nothing they could do about it. "Remember, stay put."

"Joe, I'm in love with you," she blurted out.

Okay. So he hadn't exactly been expecting her to say that. And she likely didn't know her brother and heaven knows who else was listening in on their conversation. Joe didn't have to inform her of that, or time to respond.

He saw the rifle again, and he automatically zoomed in on it. He took aim. Shut out everything else. His focus pinpointed to that one spot.

And he fired.

Fired.

Fired.

Silence followed.

The sounds of the city and the nearby street slowly began to penetrate his consciousness. He shut them out as well, all the sounds, all the flurries of movement on the street, and Joe concentrated just on that one spot on the roof. A sign of activity, any activity, and he'd fire again.

"I think you got him," Katelyn said into the communicator.

"So do I. Maintain your position just in case."

And if the sniper was indeed dead, then it was all over.

Well, maybe.

"Please tell me you weren't hurt," she demanded.

"I'm fine. You?"

"Just a scratch or two."

Joe cursed. "Our definitions of scratches aren't the same." He'd have a medic check her out ASAP.

She paused and Joe could hear her heavy breath. Or was that his? "It'll either be Fiona or Dr. Kent on that roof," Katelyn said. "Because I think all of this was done to cover up the first shooting, those first two murders."

So Katelyn had come to the same conclusion he had. Not surprising at all. Either Kent had wanted to get back at his ex-wife or else Fiona had wanted to eliminate the happy groom. It explained the reason the first shots had been accurate. Either Fiona or Kent had fired with intent to kill. Everything else had been sloppy, a dangerous facade designed to mask the killer's motive.

Until tonight.

Tonight had been to eliminate Katelyn and him because they'd obviously gotten too close to the truth.

Heck, the sniper had almost succeeded.

"We have a visual of a body on the roof," Garrett said through the communicator.

It was the only green light he needed. Joe turned to find Katelyn.

She found him first.

He'd hardly gotten to the back corner when he almost ran into her. They skidded to a stop. Stared at each other. There was indeed a thin scratch on her chin, but other than that, she was fine.

Katelyn launched herself into his arms. He was right there to catch her.

And kiss her.

It was probably their shortest kiss ever.

"Sergeant Rico?" someone immediately called out. Brayden. He was already on the scene, and after another glance, Joe realized he wasn't the only one. At least a half dozen other officers were there, as well.

With the wedding dress thrown over his shoulder, Brayden approached them and handed it to Katelyn as she eased out of Joe's embrace.

"The press is here," Brayden said.

Which meant there'd likely be pictures. She put on the dress—probably because it beat the alternative of being photographed in her slip.

Her brother gave her arm a gentle squeeze and whispered, "Good job." Brayden said the same to Joe before they were interrupted for an update on Donovan. The man was alive and would be taken to the hospital.

The routine chaos started. The inevitable aftermath of a violent crime. There was the wail of the ambulance coming for Donovan. Shouts. Orders. The smell of gunfire and leftover adrenaline. It wasn't surprising Joe soon found himself engulfed in it.

A medic pulled Katelyn aside, checking her scratch, while Garrett came over the communicator with an update of his own.

"The sniper's Dr. Allen Kent," he heard Garrett say. "And he's a DOA. Good shooting, Rico."

So it was really over.

Well, except for one not so minor detail. There was Katelyn's comment about being in love with him.

That required Joe to take a deep breath or two.

Now that they weren't in a life-and-death situation, he wanted to get her take on it. Maybe it'd been the adrenaline and fear talking and not…

Hell, he didn't even want to finish that.

Joe turned to find her, but she'd already disappeared into the gathering crowd of officers and medics.

Chapter Nineteen

Katelyn raked her thumb over the volume dial of her clip-on CD player and cranked up the music as loud as she could stand it. Axl Rose did his part, his gritty voice belting out the words to "Sweet Child O'Mine" as her running shoes pounded against the sidewalk.

She ran fast. Much faster than her usual Sunday morning pace from her apartment to her parents' home. She pushed herself hard. Harder. Until her muscles protested. Until her heart pounded.

But it still wasn't fast enough.

The thoughts she'd been trying to keep at bay caught up with her, and no matter how much she kicked up the pace, no matter how high she cranked up the volume, the thoughts just kept coming.

Thoughts of a killer and his victims.

Joe and she had stopped Dr. Allen Kent. A cold-blooded killer who according to his own computer diary had refused to give up the woman he loved, or go to jail for murdering her. He'd been willing to hurt or even kill others to cover that crime, and by Kent's own admission, he'd wanted Joe and her dead after he became suspicious of them.

But in the end, Joe and she had prevented Kent from killing others—including Bruce Donovan. He was alive and recovering in the hospital. Fiona Shipley, Addison Merrick and the other Perfect Match clients were all safe, as well. Heck, even a lot of the paperwork for the case had been finished.

The only thing missing was Joe.

They'd spoken, of course. Briefly. In the halls at headquarters as they were shuffled from one interview to the other. She'd had time to give him back his grandmother's ring and little else since a great deal of the past day and a half had involved hours of separate sessions with Internal Affairs and supervisors. All routine. All part of the checks and balances to make sure deadly force had been warranted.

Not that anyone had ever thought differently. Kent had had to be stopped.

The interviews were just time-consuming square fillers. But now those interviews were done, the squares had been filled, and Joe still hadn't contacted her.

Katelyn ran harder.

The night of the shooting, she'd told him that she loved him—on an open communicator, she'd since learned. Her brothers and probably plenty of other people had heard her, so certainly Joe hadn't missed it. Or maybe he had. Maybe he'd wanted to miss it.

And maybe the excessive endorphins from the run were simply making her crazy.

She slowed into a cooldown, hoping it'd cool her thoughts. It didn't. The I love you she'd told him kept going through her head. An I love you that was real, and yet it hadn't been said to her in return. No amount of running could take the sting out of that. She felt as if her heart were breaking into a million pieces.

How was it possible that she'd lived twenty-eight and a half years without Joe Rico when he now seemed more important than her next breath?

Katelyn did some extra minutes of cooldown to give herself time for a serious attitude adjustment. That didn't work, either. Since she felt on the verge of crying, she cut through the backyard, hoping to sneak into her parents' house and grab a shower before the rest of the O'Malley clan showed up for Sunday brunch. Of course, she didn't hold out much hope that mere soap and water could make her feel better, but at least that way she could cry in private.

"There you are," her father greeted before Katelyn even got through the door.

Not that a greeting in itself was unusual, but her father wasn't cooking. He wasn't even wearing his Kiss The Cook apron, and there wasn't so much as a whiff of waffles and bacon.

Katelyn turned off her music, slipped off her headphones and peered past her father into the sprawling country-style kitchen. Her family was already there. Her brothers, her mother and even Colton. With the exception of Colton, they were all staring at her as if she had the answers to questions that she didn't know had been asked.

"Aunt Kay-lin!" Colton shouted.

"Hey, short stuff." He bolted for her, and Katelyn scooped him up in her arms, giving him a full circle spin around. She planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. A kiss that earned her a giggle.

"Any idea what's going on?" Katelyn whispered to her nephew. Not that she expected an answer from a two-and-a-half-year-old.

Colton cupped his small hand around his mouth and tried to whisper back. "It's a secret."

That didn't narrow it down much.

"Mom," Katelyn greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek, as well. There wasn't a strand of her mother's auburn hair out of place, and she'd already applied makeup. Hardly her normal Sunday routine.

Her mom brushed her fingers over the scratch on Katelyn's chin, issued a disapproving grunt, and that's when Katelyn noticed she had no megamug of coffee in her hands. Definitely abnormal. The woman stood shoulder-to-shoulder next to Brayden and appeared to have been waiting for her. Heck, all four of them appeared to be waiting.

"What?" Katelyn asked cautiously. "Did something go wrong with the Kent case?"

"Everything's fine," Brayden said. "The last few ends were tied up when Fiona Shipley volunteered to go back into therapy for her relationship issues."

"Yeah. Therapy with a shrink who doesn't m-u-rd-e-r people," Garrett added, obviously spelling it out since Colton was listening. "Oh, and Bruce Donovan wanted me to tell you how sorry he was about the incident in the hall at Perfect Match, and he wanted to thank you for saving his life."

Nothing wrong with any of that—which only made Katelyn more suspicious. "So if it's not the Kent case, why are all of you staring at me?" And then it hit her. "Wait, does this have anything to do with the investigation into the favoritism allegations?"

"No," Brayden assured her. "The chief decided to terminate the inquiry for lack of evidence."

In other words, Joe had intervened, and justice had been served. "So if it's not that or the Kent case, then what is it?"

Her brothers exchanged a couple of glances, lifted eyebrows and other assorted facial gestures before Brayden extended his hand to her. "Congratulations, Sergeant O'Malley."

It took several moments for that to sink in. "I got the promotion?" she gasped.

Somehow, amazingly, Katelyn had forgotten all about it.

The hugs started. Ditto for the excited kisses and well wishes from her parents. Katelyn braced herself for the flood of joy, the rush of success. And it happened. Sort of. But it was more of a trickle than a flood.

"What about Joe?" she asked. Colton wriggled out of her grip. "Did he make lieutenant?"

Garrett and Brayden traded another of those ocular volleys, and this time they included their parents in the raised eyebrow exchanges.

"Told you," Garrett assured them.

"Told them what?" But Katelyn wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear this.

Garrett shrugged as if the answer were obvious. "That you're in love with Joe Rico."

She huffed, a short burst of air that hopefully was a vague enough reaction so she wouldn't have to out-and-out lie. She didn't want to discuss this with anyone until she'd had time to…heck, she didn't even know what she wanted to do about it. Sulking, maybe even crying, was a distinct possibility.

"Well, are you?" her mother asked, staring at her with eyes that were a genetic copy of her own.

Katelyn went on the offensive. Not with her mother. But she aimed her offensive attention at Brayden. "Did Joe get the promotion or not?"

"He got it. He'll be put in charge of Special Investigations."

But the answer hadn't come from anyone with an O'Malley surname. Katelyn's gaze flew across the room, to the adjoining family room.

And there was Joe.

Sitting on the sofa.

He got up, slid his hands into the pockets of his great-fitting jeans and ambled toward her. "Congratulations, Sergeant."

He smiled.

Just smiled.

Now here was the rush, and the rest of the room faded away. "Congratulations, Lieutenant."

"Joe dropped by to bring back my wedding dress," her mother explained, causing the room to reenter the fringes of Katelyn's consciousness. But even that couldn't get her attention off the hot-looking man walking toward her. "You left it at headquarters the night of the shooting."

"One of the reasons I came was to return the dress," Joe clarified. "I'm also here to ask Katelyn something."

From that look, the question wasn't about Kent or a report. Her heart landed in the vicinity of her knees.

"Oh, yeah?" Garrett commented. He nudged Brayden with his elbow.

Joe nodded, without taking his eyes away from her. "I wanted to ask her to marry me."

Okay. Another rush.

Well, more like an avalanche.

Katelyn was sure her family was doing a lot of glance exchanges, elbow nudges and the like, but she didn't care. Joe was going to ask her to marry him.

"And what do you think she'll say?" Garrett, again.

Joe stopped right in front of her. "I'm hoping she'll say yes once she's knows I'm in love with her and that I want to spend the rest of my life with her." He hooked his finger into the waist of her running shorts and pulled her to him. He touched his mouth to Katelyn's.

She felt that simple kiss from head to toe. "I'm positive she'll say yes."

"Positive?" Joe questioned, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"It's a sure thing."

So this was what it was like to be totally in love. Sweet heaven. There was nothing like it. Not the thrill of an arrest, not the promotion. Not even the badge. Just an overwhelming sense that everything was right.

The room went silent. For a moment or two. Until her mother squealed. A second wave of congratulations, hugs and well wishes started, and she found herself in some very loving arms, including Joe's.

"You knew about this?" Katelyn whispered to Garrett, noting that he was grinning as much as the others. "And you approve?"

He shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? Joe makes you happy."

Yes, he did.

And Joe obviously wanted to continue to make her happy in private because after several more minutes of celebrating, he politely asked if he could have just a few moments alone with her. Under her father's direction, the O'Malleys scattered like proverbial flies.

Joe never once let go of her. "Are you upset I chose a public proposal?" he asked.

"Not at all."

"Well, I thought it was only fair after your public announcement on the communicator."

Katelyn winced, but that public announcement would save them some time. Everyone at headquarters probably already knew how she felt about Joe Rico.

"I'd like to invite your family to the wedding," she said while she could still speak. The kiss he gave her seriously put a damper on what was left of that particular ability. "Any objections?"

He shook his head. "None. Knowing you, you'll be able to talk them into coming."

Between her father and her, it was practically guaranteed.

"It'll be a new beginning." Joe took her hand and slipped his grandmother's ring back on her finger. "A new start. A new life. Oh, and lots of great sex."

Katelyn ran her tongue over her bottom lip and felt a nice jolt when she tasted him there. "Great sex, huh?" She smiled. "But you left something out—the happily ever after part."

"I didn't leave it out." Joe laced their fingers together. Drew her against him. "With us, happily ever after is a given."

Yes. It was.

A true perfect match.

And Joe let her know that with a long, lingering kiss.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-8687-4

VEILED INTENTIONS

Copyright © 2004 by Delores Fossen

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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Table of Contents

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen