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She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the medical supplies she always carried. He had to be crazy if he thought he could do this. Cops thrived on danger, but blood loss didn’t take the testosterone level into consideration. He’d be at Mercy before dawn and she’d be in jail or dead. The victim of a drunk wielding a shotgun.
“Put a dressing on it. It’ll hold until I get to Otis.”
“You need more than a dressing.”
He pulled his T-shirt farther up, his jaw locked against the pain. Muscle tensed just under his skin and she watched him stiffen. Desire drummed deep in her body.
“What are you going to do? Arrest him?” She felt his stare as if it was solid, looked into his eyes and pressed the thick pad against his wound.
For an instant he closed heavy-lashed lids over pain-clouded green eyes, but opened them almost immediately.
“Why do I need Otis?”
“How about him shooting at us for starters. And he did this.” She nodded to the bandage she pressed to his side. “He assaulted you first.”
A half smile arched his mouth, but vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I have a Robear in custody. I’m doing my job.”
She’d taken the family career track? Was that what he thought? “Let’s get you to my car before you pass out. You don’t have to be conscious when I drive you to the hospital.”
He forced his palm down on her hand. Heat burned into her fingers and sent a jolt of current through her body. She tried to pull away, but couldn’t escape his touch or the awareness it evoked.
“You will take me to Otis.” He was so close, she could see beads of sweat form on his upper lip. “If you don’t, you’ll serve time when I’m done with you.”
“Okay. Okay!”
He released his hand from hers and she felt him shudder.
“I’ll open the lock.” Kate moved away from him and fished the bloody key out of her pocket. If she didn’t get him out of here soon, he’d pass out.
Hand shaking, she fit the key into the padlock and raised the metal door. He was on his feet by the time she returned to his side. He slid his gun into the waistband of his pants. At least someone could shoot back this time.
“Get your stuff, MacGyver.” He glared at her. “Nice and slow.”
Kate jammed her things into her backpack and zipped it shut. There was no way out except going into the bayou with him.
“His place is about seven miles from here on the edge of Bayou Gauche.” She pulled his arm over her shoulders.
He walked on his own, but leaned heavily on her, pressed close to her side. His body heat radiated into her and pulled her nerves thin, doubling her discomfort, but she couldn’t run away. Couldn’t escape the myriad of opposing sensations that targeted her mind and body.
A fine drizzle fell outside. She settled him into the passenger seat of her Bronco and hurried around to the driver’s side. Kate started the engine and rolled out of the lot, letting the flip-flop of the windshield wipers calm her nerves. What a mess she’d gotten herself in tonight. Life had just become immensely more complicated thanks to the angry, wounded cop in the passenger seat next to her.
“You do know you’re in the middle of my investigation?”
She gave him a sideways glance and refocused on the road. “I didn’t know cops liked to hide out in car trunks. You’re in the middle of my repo job.”
“A man’s got to get creative. You picked a bad night to take his ride.”
“Some ride.” Kate killed the lights as she made the turn just short of the house. “No sense getting him fired up.” She cut the engine, rolling the last twenty feet. She’d learned to be quiet and invisible. “There it is.”
The single bulb over the house numbers still burned in the darkness. The bathroom light shone at the side of the house.
“Just like I left it. He’s probably in his crib, sleeping like a baby.
“How did you find this place?”
“My boss gave me the information.”
Mick pulled his pistol out of his waistband and checked his rounds. “Who is this boss of yours? Has he got a name?”
“I don’t give out that information.”
“You will.” He snapped the cylinder shut. He’d catch Otis in his bed, arrest him and take him downtown. Any leads he’d have gotten with the tracking device in place were gone now, but he had her. It wouldn’t surprise him if she knew more than she was telling.
The pain in his side had turned to a dull ache. He’d been in rougher shape a couple of times, but he’d never been assaulted by a Robear. Certainly not by a female one who was short on details and long on looks. He hadn’t even known the strange breed existed, until tonight. “Stay here.”
He climbed out of her Bronco and stood still, listening to the sounds of the night. The rain had stopped, but there was a dampness in the air that penetrated through his skin. He turned the collar up on his jacket. It had been a long time since he’d been in the bayou without the sun overhead. He glanced at Whittley’s house and scanned the darkness.
The night was strangely still. His caution level rose. Beyond the thick mesh of trees protecting the house, he heard movement in the water. A slow rhythmic slosh, like the dip of a paddle. Then it stopped. Probably an alligator courting a meal.
Striding across the road in a zigzag pattern, he made it to the porch. A rickety stairway approached the front door from the left. He stepped up onto the first stair. The rotten wood moaned under his weight. He skipped the next two and made the landing without a sound.
The screen door dangled from a single hinge. Otis had been in some kind of a hurry to stop Kate from taking the car.
He leaned to the left of the entry and balled his fist. Bang, bang, bang. He pounded the door and listened to the sound echo inside. “Otis Whittley. New Orleans police. Open the door.”
No response.
He didn’t have a warrant. If Otis didn’t come out willingly, there wasn’t much he could do.
“He’s not here.”
The element of surprise was usually his, but he whirled around at the sound of her voice. Kate stood on the step below him. “What the…get back in the car.”
“He’s not here. I looked in all the windows.”
“You did what?”
“I’ll show you.” She brushed past him, turned the knob and gave the door a push.
It swung wide-open. A shaft of light from the outside bulb penetrated the front room.
She moved to step over the threshold, but he pulled her back. “You can’t go in.”
“And why not?”
The hairs on his neck bristled. “See the broken lamp, the ransacked kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“Something went on here after you boosted the car.”
“I didn’t boost the car.”
“It’s a crime scene.”
“We’ve only been gone half an hour. I don’t know how anything can happen in half an hour.”
“It’s as easy as squeezing the trigger. Click. You’re dead.” He took Kate’s hand, ignoring the burst of electricity that arced up his arm and spread through his body. He’d neglected to point out the pool of blood near the end of the hall. Fresh blood.
He marched her closer to the car. Closer to safety. He put her in the passenger side and moved around to the driver’s side, eyeing the darkness. Braced for unseen threats that could come at any time.
What was he thinking, bringing her out here? He should have called a black-and-white to take her in. He climbed in and threw a sideways glance at his unwilling passenger. “I need your cell phone. Mine’s DOA. Shrapnel.”
“Sure.”
He watched her rummage in her bag of tricks and pull out the phone. She handed it to him and smiled. His insides went to mush. She was good. There wasn’t any doubt about it, but he didn’t trust her.
Mick pressed in Callahan’s station number and waited for his friend to pick up. “I’ve got a crime scene.” He rattled off the location of the shack Otis lived in. “There’s no body. It’ll probably go to Schneider. ETA? Fifteen. I’ll be here.” He hung up and leaned back into the seat, feeling ragged around the edges.
“Body? What are you talking about?”
“I can’t involve you.” His own words kicked him in the gut. She was already involved, but just how, he wasn’t sure.
“Tell me everything you know about Otis Whittley and his Beamer.”
“I told you all I know. I repossessed the car tonight. I don’t know Otis. He’s just a name on a list.”
He didn’t want to believe her. Believe she’d just been in the right place at the wrong time? Things didn’t happen by accident. “Who do you work for?”
Pulling a penlight out of her pocket, she opened the glove box, shined the narrow beam of light into the compartment and pulled out an envelope. “I have a court order, that’s all you need to know.”
Who was she protecting? There wasn’t an honest person in the Robear clan. Any one of them could steal a car in under thirty seconds and wave as they drove off. Was she any different?
He set his jaw and locked out a minuscule desire to believe her. A Robear was a Robear. They’d taken all they were ever going to take from him.
“I’ll have to haul you downtown. My supervisor has a nasty temper in the interrogation room. You’ll spill your guts before the bars on Bourbon Street close.”
“Where do you get off threatening me? I’m a law-abiding citizen. That car is in my possession and I intend to shuttle it to Dallas at the end of the week.”
“You’re in my custody.” The air temperature in the car went subzero.
“You’ll have to arrest me then, because as soon as your buddies arrive, I’m going home.”
If he wanted to keep her, he’d have to arrest her. The charge wouldn’t hold her for long. The thought tasted like dirt in his mouth, but he was in no condition to drag her there in cuffs, only to have her bond out in the a.m. “As soon as the crime-scene investigator arrives, you’re free to go. You’re a material witness. I’m going to need a full statement and elimination prints. One of the hazards of touching the doorknob. Don’t leave town.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She sat stiffly in the seat next to him.
“Give me the papers.” He pulled them from her hand and opened the envelope. She directed the beam of light onto the document.
Mick studied the paperwork, giving the bank in Dallas authority to reclaim its property by any means necessary. As much as he hated to admit it, she was telling the truth, but he’d check to see if she had a record.
“I’d like a copy of these.” He folded the papers and shoved them back into the envelope.
“Can do.” She flipped the switch on the flashlight, plunging the interior of the car into darkness.
Mick waited for his eyes to adjust in the weak light from the porch bulb.
“Why do you have it in for me Officer Jacoby?” Her voice was soft and low, matter-of-fact.
His nerves twisted around his hatred. “I have it in for anyone who’s broken the law.” He’d forced the words out. Did she know how much he wanted her to be guilty? Only her court order was going to protect her tonight. “Looks like you’re in luck.” The CSI team van made the corner with its lights flashing.
She was out of the car before he could finish his sentence. Mick climbed out from behind the wheel and closed the door. They met in front of the Bronco. “I’ll be on your doorstep tomorrow morning. You better be there.” He wanted to slap the cuffs on her right now and chain her to the nearest tree, but he hesitated.
“You can plan on it, Officer.” He searched her angelic face for a glimmer of deceitfulness, but it was his heart that told him she would be there in the morning, waiting.
The CSI van slowed and stopped, followed by a string of other vehicles.
He waved her off, stepped aside and watched her climb in behind the wheel.
“Jacoby, you responsible for this mess?”
Mick turned around as Callahan climbed out of the van and walked toward him. “You know me. If there’s a crime, I’m there.”
Callahan slapped his shoulder and smiled. “I like your attitude. Sure you won’t come back to homicide? We could use you.”
“No. I had all of that I could take.”
“I understand. Let’s have a look.”
Mick took him up the stairs and pointed out the pool of blood at the back of the hallway. “I’d say there’s a body somewhere.”
Callahan shined the beam of his mag light onto the large red stain. “Good-size volume. I’d have to agree. I’ll get the team in here. We’ll let you know.”
Mick felt his body sag and sat down on the top step. His head throbbed and he tried to fight off the shakes.
“You okay?”
“No.” He watched Kate’s taillights disappear around the corner. Five years’ worth of mental compensation had just been spent in forty-five minutes. Five long years of a search that never ended, a search for the car thief who’d killed his wife and daughter during a boost, and never looked back. The rumor was it had been a Robear behind the wheel that night. Was it her? Was she the one?
“Call me a ride out of here, Callahan. I need a gurney.”
“You’ve got it, buddy.”
KATE STEPPED OUT of the shower, coiled her hair in a towel and slipped on her bathrobe. She’d let the water needle her skin for twenty minutes, but she still felt like a zombie. Even a couple hours of REM sleep hadn’t been enough to erase last night’s confrontation with Mick Jacoby. Maybe the attraction she’d felt toward him was only imagined.
The buzz of the doorbell, followed by a couple of loud knocks, pushed into her brain. Tiptoeing to the door, she looked through the peephole. The focus of her thoughts stood on her front porch. She jerked back. He was even more sexy in daylight. She’d known he’d come around to talk to her, but 7:00 a.m.?
She took a deep breath, undid the dead bolt and swung the door wide. “Good morning, Officer.” Her cheerful attitude didn’t bring an iota of change to his solemn features, grayed by lack of sleep and blood loss, she guessed, but he was still the best-looking male she’d seen in too long. His formidable self couldn’t change that.
