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“The chief will know where the photo came from,” Rachel warned them.
“We don’t need to know who this guy was,” Thad said, which elicited gasps from his family.
Gray’s neck snapped back in indignation. “What the hell—he tried to kill Natalie—”
“He’s dead now. He’s no longer a threat,” Thad pointed out. “He was about my age. He couldn’t have been our parents’ killer.”
“Our parents’ killer might not be out there anymore,” Ash remarked. “He could be locked up or dead. But this guy, Natalie’s half brother, is the one who attacked Rachel to try to destroy the DNA evidence from our parents’ murder—”
“Why did he do it? He couldn’t have been their killer,” he repeated, “so he must have been trying to protect someone.”
Gray sucked in a breath. “Maybe that’s why he tried to kill Natalie.”
“Because she did see something that night our parents were murdered,” Ash said. “Maybe the killer …”
“We don’t need to know who this Wade guy was,” Thad repeated, “although finding that out will help us learn what we really need to know—who his father is.”
“And if he was locked up or dead, his son wouldn’t have gone to the extent he had to protect him,” Ash reasoned. He wrapped his arms around Rachel, as if he needed to protect her even inside the lab in the basement of the St. Louis Police Department.
Gray swore beneath his breath. “So even though that son of a bitch is dead, there’s still a threat out there?”
Thad shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Rachel, we’ll need you to run the DNA from the old crime scene and compare it to the stalker’s DNA.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t have access to any of the original evidence anymore,” she said, patting her belly. “Not even the results. I’ve been taken off the case because no one with any connection to a Kendall is being allowed near the case files or the evidence.”
“They don’t trust that we really want justice,” Ash said.
“Can you talk to someone with access and have them run it?” Thad persisted.
She shook her head. “The stalker was too young to be considered a viable suspect in the old murders. They won’t look at him for any connection.”
“That’s why the Kendalls should be running the investigation,” Thad said. It was why they were going to damn well run their own.
A short while later, when Thad walked through the parking garage to his car, he knew that there was definitely a threat. He felt someone’s gaze boring into his back. It could have been reporters, but he doubted it. If they’d made it past the police department parking garage attendant, then they would have been rushing him with cameras and questions. They wouldn’t have just watched him.
But then why would the killer watch him? He hadn’t witnessed anything the night his parents died. He’d done nothing to save them. But he had saved lives in his real job. He’d also taken lives. Maybe Michaels had given him up. He reached beneath his jacket, but his holster was locked up, with his gun, inside his glove box. He wouldn’t have gotten it past the security scanners in the police department unless he’d had Ash clear it for him. And his brother would have had too many questions about Thad having a license for a concealed weapon.
Now, as the hairs on the nape of his neck lifted with foreboding, Thad wished he’d answered those questions, so that he was armed. Keeping close to vehicles for cover, he visually scanned the garage, looking for whoever was staring at him with such intensity. Yes, there was definitely a threat still out there, and it was focused wholly on Thad.
ONE KILLER ALWAYS RECOGNIZES another…
Thad Kendall couldn’t see him through the tinted windows of his SUV, but still Ed ducked down when the man turned toward his vehicle. How could anyone be fooled by Kendall’s cover?
He was so much more than a bored rich kid or a globe-trotting reporter. Sure, maybe it was because of where he’d reported stories that he moved as he did—as if he had a target on his back. But when he’d felt Ed watching him, he had reached for a gun whereas a reporter’s instinct would have been to grab a microphone or a camera instead. Not a weapon.
Kendall was also a damn good shot … when he was armed. But he had no gun now. No protection at all. And he was so close. All Ed would have to do was start the engine, stomp on the gas and run him down. Ed shook with anticipation—not withdrawal. He didn’t need a drink. He needed vengeance. He could almost imagine the satisfying crunch of the man’s bones beneath the tires of his SUV.
It would hurt Kendall. But not enough.…
The son of a bitch wouldn’t feel as much pain as he had caused. So killing him wouldn’t be satisfying at all—not until Thad Kendall had suffered. All Ed had to do was watch and figure out what would cause Thad the most pain.
Chapter Three
This time Caroline opened the door to his knock. And no one was surprised, like when Mark had let Thad into their house. Then she had been on the phone with Tammy when the doorbell rang, so her son had beaten her to the door and totally disregarded the rule of not opening it unless he knew who was at it.
This time she’d known Thad was coming because she had invited him. But still her heart started beating faster at the sight of him. Fluffy snowflakes melted in his dark hair and clung to his high cheekbones and strong jaw. She stepped back to let him inside, but he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
She followed his gaze to the street. Was he waiting for someone? A lawyer? That was why she’d called him—because she hadn’t wanted to force him to fight for his parental rights. With the full resources of the Kendall money and power, he couldn’t lose.
But she could potentially lose her son. Her salary barely stretched to cover her mortgage, Mark’s day care and their living expenses. She couldn’t afford a lawyer, too.
Thad finally stepped inside and closed the door, shutting out the snow and the cold and whoever he might have been looking for.
“Is Mark here?” he asked, glancing around the inside of the house like he had the outside.
Was that a habit he’d picked up from traveling to war-torn countries? He’d probably had to learn to be vigilant in order to stay alive. A lot of reporters hadn’t made it back from the places Thad had been.
Caroline drew in a shaky breath. “Mark is upstairs.”
“So you’re not worried about him hearing us fight?” he asked with a glance toward the open stairwell.
“I’m not going to fight you.”
“What does that mean?” he asked. His eyes, which were the same sapphire-blue of his son’s, widened in surprise. “You’re going to let me see him?”
Her stomach tightened with nerves, but she couldn’t deny her son the chance to get to know his father. Given Thad’s lifestyle, this could possibly be the only chance the boy would ever get. Too bad he would probably be too young to remember him. “If that’s what you really want …”
“He’s my son. Of course I want to see him,” he replied, as if offended by her suggestion. “I’ve already missed so much.”
“And you’ll miss even more when you leave again.”
He ducked his chin as if she’d taken a swing at him. But he didn’t deny that he would leave. “I have a job to do.”
“You don’t have to leave St. Louis to be a reporter,” she pointed out. “You could get a job at any station or paper in the city.”
“Not reporting the story,” he said. “In St. Louis, I would be the story.”
“Because of the shooting.”
Everyone else had been so surprised that Thad Kendall had killed a man. Everyone but Caroline. Beneath his charm and devastating grin, there was a ruthlessness that she had glimpsed the day he’d left her without even a backward glance.
He had a single-minded intensity about his job that seemed to be about more than achieving success or fame. She suspected there was much more to Thad Kendall than anyone realized.
And he was her son’s father. She swallowed a sigh.
“You’re not looking at me like everyone else has been,” he said. He was actually the one looking at her, his gaze intent on her face.
“How’s that?” She had barely let herself look at him at all, as she was determined to not let her foolish heart rule her head once again. She would not fall for Thad Kendall, no matter how damn handsome he was.
“All my family,” he said, “even members of the press keep looking at me like I’m going to fall apart because I pulled the trigger and killed a man.”
“I think you’ve had to do a lot harder things than that in your life,” she admitted.
He jerked his head in a grim nod. Then he stepped closer and skimmed his fingers along her jaw. “Leaving you was one of the hardest.”
She sucked in a breath as her traitorous heart slammed against her ribs. “Don’t.” She moved back so that his hand fell away from her face. “Just don’t …”
“It’s true.”
“You left and never looked back,” she reminded him. “I’m not looking back, either. I’m looking ahead to when you leave again and I have to explain to Mark.”
“I’ll explain to Mark that it’s my job to go to other countries.”
“Will you want to make a clean break with him, too?” She’d worried about that for the past few sleepless nights since her son had opened the door to his father. Mark had had so many questions about the stranger who’d come to their house, and he had deserved to know the truth.
“No. I’ll stay in contact with him,” he promised as he stepped closer again. His voice dropped to an intimate murmur. “And with you …”
His lips curved into that devastating grin. He was arrogant—he couldn’t look like he did and not realize how women wanted him. And he was a Kendall, used to getting what he wanted, and apparently since he was back in St. Louis, he wanted her.
With an effort she steadied her racing pulse and shook her head. “I don’t want a relationship with you.”
His grin faded. “Caroline …”
“Truthfully, I don’t want you to have a relationship with Mark,” she said, keeping her voice low so that her son wouldn’t overhear. “I’m afraid you’re going to break his heart like you did mine.”
He groaned. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know,” she admitted. “And you won’t mean to hurt him, either. But you will.”
“So what do you want me to do?” he asked. “Pretend that I never saw him? That I don’t know I have a son? Do you want me to just walk away?”
That was the problem. She didn’t want him to walk away. Ever. But he would. “It’s what you do best.”
“Damn it! You’re not being fair!”
“No. I’m not,” she readily agreed. But she needed to keep reminding herself that she couldn’t fall for him again. She wouldn’t be able to help heal her son’s broken heart if she was dealing with her own.
“I didn’t know how much I hurt you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, refusing his apology. “I’m over you,” she said, trying to convince them both of that. “And I intend to stay over you.”
“If you’re so over me, why haven’t you moved on?” he challenged her. “Why aren’t you married or involved with someone else?”
“How—how do you know that I’m not involved with someone?” she asked.
“Since finding out about Mark, I checked with some of my sources.…”
Damn Tammy. “I’m focused on my son right now,” she said, “not dating.”
“I can’t believe men haven’t been beating down your door to take you out,” he said.
She laughed at the outrageous compliment, refusing to be charmed again. Mark was three and a half, but she had fifteen pounds of baby weight to lose yet. Maybe twenty.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Even more beautiful now than you were four years ago.”
Her stomach muscles tightened with desire, but she shook her head. “I am smarter now than I was four years ago. I’m not going to fall for your patented Kendall charm.”
“Patented?”
“Already at three, Mark has it. He can wrap me completely around his little finger.” Just like Thad used to be able to do.
“You’re not immune to me,” he said, his voice husky and his eyes bright with desire. “And I can prove it to you.”
When she opened her mouth to ask him how, his lips were there covering hers. His tongue delved deep, stroking over hers, stroking her passion from flickering flame to full conflagration. He’d wrapped his arms around her, too, so that she couldn’t step back. But she didn’t want to get away; she wanted to get closer. His chest pressed against hers, his heart beating the same frantic rhythm as hers.
“Hey!” exclaimed a little voice, full of curiosity. “What are you doing to my mommy?”
They broke apart as guiltily as teenagers caught necking on the couch. Caroline would have laughed at the shock on Thad’s flushed face if she hadn’t felt more like crying. She didn’t know what was bringing her closer to tears—the kiss or the fact that her son had interrupted it.
THAD’S SKIN BURNED, his fingers numb from the cold as he rolled a snowball across Caroline’s front yard. He’d brought no gloves with him and Caroline’s were too small. But when Mark had asked him to build another snowman to go with the lopsided one already in their front yard, Thad had been unable to refuse no matter how many excuses he’d had to do just that.
She was right. The kid had the Kendall charm but with Caroline’s innate kindness and generosity.
“I can roll it,” Mark said, putting his mittened hands over Thad’s. “You’re cold.”
Maybe his skin was cold, but the rest of him was still on fire from kissing Caroline. If Mark hadn’t interrupted them …
Caroline probably would have pulled away. She was over him. He’d kissed her to prove her wrong, but instead he’d proved to himself that he wasn’t over her. Not even close.
He wanted more than a kiss, but she wanted nothing from him but for him to not hurt their son. He stared at the tiny, mittened hands clasping his, and his heart twisted in his chest.
“Just a li’l bigger,” the boy directed. When the snowball grew to the size of a beach ball, he stopped and tried to lift it.
Thad lifted it instead, setting it atop the other two balls they’d formed into the base of the snowman. The lopsided snowman was actually a snow lady, and he and Mark had already made a snow boy. “There. It’s done.”
Mark shook his head. “We gotta make his face.” He reached in his pocket for the things that Caroline had given him after she’d bundled him into a snowsuit, boots, mittens, scarf and hat.
She was a great mom, just as he’d known she would be. That was another reason he’d forced himself to leave her four years ago. She’d deserved more than he was capable of giving. Because of his real job, he’d never intended to be a husband or a father. He hadn’t wanted to leave a family behind like Len Michaels had.
But he had left behind a son … without ever realizing he’d become a father.
“Here,” Mark said, shoving a carrot into Thad’s cold hand. “You’re gonna have to put it on ‘cuz I’m not big enough.”
Thad handed back the carrot and then, his hands shaking slightly, he slid them around his son and lifted him onto his shoulders. “You’re big enough now.”
A giggle slipped from Mark’s lips. “I’m too big now.” He wrapped one arm around Thad’s neck and leaned forward to reach their snowman. His tongue sticking out between his lips in concentration, he carefully arranged the carrot and a collection of colored stones to make the snowman’s face, which he must have been comparing to Thad’s because he kept looking back and forth between them.
“Mommy says these rocks are the same color as my eyes,” he remarked. He turned toward Thad. “They’re the same color as yours, too.”
