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"Breathing?"

"No. You don't have to go with me. I can drop you off at the station."

"I'm going. Where did they find him?"

"Bayou Gauche. Downriver a couple of miles from his place. A fisherman hooked into something, hauled it up and found him. He phoned it in."

Revulsion squeezed her stomach and she took a deep breath to drive it away. "I was the last one to see him alive."

"I was the last one to take one of his bullets."

Her heartbeat accelerated. Otis was dead. Probably killed by the same creeps who stalked her, broke into her house and tried to run them off the highway. She looked over at Brian, glad he was behind the wheel and not in the morgue.

"The hull marks on the bank behind the house make sense now. No wonder you didn't see any other cars on Bayou road. Otis was taken away in a small boat of some kind. They were right there. I could've had the SOBs."

"What are you, a frog?"

He smiled, but stared straight ahead.

"These guys are dangerous. I don't carry hip waders in my backpack. It wouldn't have been a smart move to go into the water after them. Besides, Otis was probably already dead when they put him in the boat."

"Maybe."

Brian's answer didn't make her feel better. What kind of animals did this stuff, and what kind of man did it take to catch them? She considered him and her pulse thumped harder. She was physically safe with him next to her, but her heart was in trouble.

***


Bayou Gauche looked better in daylight, she decided as Brian maneuvered along the dirt road. Already the afternoon humidity warred with the car's air conditioner. She brushed her hair aside and tucked it behind her ear.

Brian braked for a slow-moving gator who'd chosen that moment to cross from one body of brackish water to the other. His tail swished back and forth as his short legs carried him forward.

She took a sideways glance at Brian and felt her heart zing. She liked the truce they'd worked out. It was as good as invisible handcuffs, but not as tight. They both had everything to gain in a partnership and nothing to lose. Nothing to lose?

"Here we are." A long low whistle hissed from between her lips. "Looks like everyone made the party. There's a line at the punch bowl."

The narrow road was packed with police vehicles. The New Orleans dive team milled around their van, still dressed in wet suits, tanks leaning against the tires. Uniformed cops wandered around while a man in a suit and tie stood with a notepad in hand talking to a man who was dressed in a fishing vest and a dorky bucket hat, complete with fishing hooks hanging off of it.

"Whatdya know?"

She followed Brian's line of sight to a man who lounged against a bright yellow vintage Corvette. He looked at home in the circuslike commotion around him.

"Who is that?"

"My old partner from homicide."

Brian was already out of the car and striding toward him by the time she climbed out. Moving along, ten feet back, she took up a position near the divers' van within earshot of Brian and the guy who stood erect now, giving Brian a once-over.

"Littrell, how the hell are ya?"

"Not too shabby...yourself?"

"Good."

The guy he talked to seemed to mirror him. He was a head taller. His hair was dark, almost black. He looked past Brian and his gaze settled on her.

"Kendall, come here," Brian called her. "I'd like you to meet my buddy, Liam Byer. We grew up together."

A chill rippled across her skin and took refuge inside her. She looked away and tried to appear nonchalant, but when she looked up, he still stared at her. It was the slight smile on his lips that bothered her the most. It was the way she often looked at a hot fudge sundae, right before she devoured it, almost sexual in nature, definitely primal.

She extended her hand and he shook it vigorously. "Littrell, you've done it again. You always show up with the best-looking girl."

Brian caressed her with his gaze before he turned his attention to his friend.

"So what gets you out to Gauche?" He eyed Liam carefully. His ex-partner from the homicide division looked fit and leaned against a highly polished Corvette with a vanity plate that declared him, SMOOTH.

He processed all the details around the man in front of him. Customs had been a good move for him, lucrative, too, by the looks of it.

"I've got a little fishing pad over on the other side. Got word from my neighbor it had been broken into last night. I decided to come out and assess the damage. This guy--" he motioned toward the fisherman deep in conversation with Investigator Callahan "--was walking along the road, pretty freaked out, I stopped to offer him a ride and he claimed he'd pulled up a body. We called the police. That was an hour ago and I'm still waiting to give my statement, then I'm out of here."

Brian nodded. "I'll see if we can get this expedited for you."

"No problem, buddy."

He turned his attention to Callahan as the CSI stalked toward him.

"There you are. Thought you'd like to have a look at the victim before we zip him in for a trip to the morgue. It's a fluke that Mr. Johnson found him at all." Callahan nodded to the fisherman next to him. "If we need more information we'll contact you."

The man turned and wandered away.

"Poor guy. Glad he didn't pull the victim into the boat, he'd be catatonic."

Brian grunted. "Yeah. So what can you tell me?"

Callahan motioned him in the direction of the coroner's van, four car lengths behind the dive-team vehicle. "The body is in bad shape. The gators gnawed on him, but we think it's Otis Whittley, at least that's the name on the ID we found in his wallet. Maybe you remember what the guy was wearing that night?"

"Flashy. He liked to party at the Alley-Gator." Brian thought about it. He'd watched Otis enter the club from across the street, but he'd been more interested in the location of the car than Otis's disco threads. Still, white bell-bottoms were unforgettable. "White pants. Dark jacket."

Callahan stopped at the rear of the van. "One more thing. He was cut up, looks like torture. Someone wanted something from him, I'd guess."

Just like Romaro.

Callahan opened the back of the van. The stench of rotting flesh wafted to him and churned his stomach.

"Wait until you see this." Callahan climbed in next to the gurney; Brian followed him. "Never seen anything like it. It wasn't done to kill the poor guy, either. It was done for effect. Probably post-mortem." Callahan slid the zipper on the body bag and pulled it open. "Would you look at that?"

Brian stared at the ten-inch butcher knife buried in Otis's chest. "Straight through the breastbone." He recoiled.

"That's my guess."

"It'd take a lot of strength to pull that off." His nerves thinned. The assailants who'd doen this were after Kendall. He looked at the knife again. The lab would have to confirm what he already knew. The rosewood-handled butcher knife in Otis Whittley's chest belonged to Kendall.

"Looks like he's wearing bell-bottoms. Can't say they're white anymore, but yeah...that's him."

"We'll try to get something more in forensics. Say, isn't this the guy who owned that spicy BMW we picked up from storage?"

"Yep."

"I went over that car. Found something of interest. It was fitted with LoJack. It wasn't stock. Someone installed it after the car hit the market. There was also an auxiliary alarm wired to the door switch, independent from the main system."

"Do you think this guy put them both in?" Brian nodded toward Otis, glad when Callahan zipped up the body bag.

"The auxiliary alarm, probably. I can check the components for his prints, but it was a hacked-in job. Amateur. The tracking device on the other hand, pro all the way. I'll check for prints, but I can almost guarantee there won't be any."

"Can you do me a favor, Callahan?"

"I can try."

Brian pulled out his pad and scribbled Kendall's address on it. "There's a Bronco parked in the driveway at this address. It belongs to my material witness. Can you check it covertly this afternoon?"

"No problem." Callahan took the paper and shoved it into his pocket.

"Is there any way to find out if the slashed seats in the BMW were stock?"

"Yeah. I'll contact the manufacturer. They keep serial numbers on file for the car and all of its components."

"Thanks for the informative tour." Brian ducked his head and backed out of the van, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

"Sure thing. I'll stay in touch and get this guy's information down to Schneider, ASAP. I'll call you tonight."

"You're a good man." Brian moved around the corner of the van, glad he'd quit homicide. He didn't have the stomach for it anymore. Not since...

The hair on his neck bristled and he battled a moment of irritation as he moved toward Kendall and Byer. Kendall's stance told him she wasn't enjoying Byer's advances. Her arms were crossed, her body turned; she was ready to run.

Byer stood close to her, too close. He leaned into the conversation, his hands in his front pockets, head cocked. A silent sexual invitation.

Brian slowed his pace and willed his testosterone level down. She wasn't returning the advance. He controlled the territorial lust that had swallowed him, brain and all. Kendall was a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman he'd kissed. A heat roiled in his stomach just thinking about it. Crazy, but he had to give Byer credit for trying.

"Hey." He touched her arm and was rewarded with an instant zap deep in his body. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." She smiled at Byer, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Byer nodded his head, taking a resignated step back. "Bri, let's get together for a beer."

"Sure."

Byer lifted a hand in a small wave and went back to his relaxed stance, just as Callahan approached him, notepad drawn.

Brian guided Kendall to the car and climbed in next to her, aware that Byer watched them with interest.

"What did Liam have to say?" He turned in the seat so he could look at her, meter her reactions.

"Nothing really. He seemed to want to talk about you. Stuff like, how well I knew you. Had I known your wife? Did I want to get together? I haven't had a come-on that strong since my high school prom. I feel like I should go home and take a shower."

"He hit on you?"

"Yeah, wanted to take me out for a Hurricane."

"He has a way with the ladies, but he gets his rocks off shuffling through them like a deck of cards. Don't let it upset you...he's harmless. I've trusted him with my life more than once."

Brian fired the engine, backed the car into a turnaround and pulled away from the scene.

"How'd you meet him?"

"We grew up together, high school, college and finally the academy. Fell in love with the same girl."

"How'd that work out?"

"I married her." He'd always admired the guy's style, but personally, he was a one-woman man. Casually, he slid a glance toward Kendall, content with the surge of emotion inside of him.

"Do they know how Otis died?"

Her question put him back in business, but he hesitated to answer her. He was sure Investigator Callahan would contact her soon enough. He'd added the knife to the break-in report and if he had to, he'd help him put two and two together. There was no way Kendall had anything to do with it, but the police would want to know. "It'll be the coroner's call on the cause of death, but he was pretty messed up. Two weeks in the swamp can erase a lot of evidence."

"Like Romero?"

"Same MO." He heard her heavy exhale and wondered about the knife. He knew he could trust her and he wanted her to trust him. "They found your knife in the body. The one missing from your house."

"In the body? No." She shook her head back and forth. "Are you sure it's mine?"

"Positive. It matches your set. Rosewood handle."

"They were in my house months ago? How do they know all the details of my life? I don't even know half the time where I'll be, or when. Are they clairvoyant? Mind readers? What?"

The color drained from her face, then surged back into her cheeks full force.

He flipped the AC on high. "I'm sorry, Kendall. If I had the answers, I'd give them to you."

Highway 306 was in front of them and Brian braked. "We'll stay at my house tonight. We haven't been back there for days. I'll make sure we're not followed. I can make some dinner. Sound good?" He wanted to see the worry leave her face, wanted her to relax, if just for the night. He wanted to see her smile.

"Why, Officer, I've never had an offer like that before. Are you trying to make it a date or take that kiss this afternoon to the next level?"

"No, ma'am. Just doing my job." Desire rattled him and sent his thoughts along paths that were better abandoned. As much as he wanted Kendall, he knew it would compromise his investigation and his badge. It already had. He was acting like a stupid high school jock with the hots for the head cheerleader. More testosterone than brains.

"It's okay. I liked it, too."

"Don't encourage me. It's been a long time." He looked at her warily and she smiled. Brian pulled out onto the highway. She moved him. Stirred up emotional debris like a tornado across Kansas. "Look...Kendall..."

"I understand. You don't have to explain. I'm a witness, you're a cop assigned to protect me...that's it."

He couldn't tell her. Couldn't even begin to understand it himself. He wanted her all right, but he owed closure to Natalie and Megan and that closure was sitting next to him. If he caved into lust, he'd risk the very thing that could end his almost five-year crusade.

Her.

***


"I hope you like Italian." Brian sat the grocery bag on the counter.

"Love it." Kendall moved in and pulled the items from the bag.

"Natalie...my wife, she was a great cook, but she never let me in the kitchen. I had to learn, or I'd have starved to death."

"Do you miss her?"

"Every day."

She reached over and touched his hand, driven by a need to console the man who'd lost so much. "Care to share?"

His eyes were bright under the overhead lights. "Come in here." He pulled away and left the kitchen. She followed him into the living room, and knew where he was headed. He paused at the end of the mantel and picked up the chunk of metal.

"This is all I have from that night." He opened his palm to her. "It was the cleanest scene I've ever been to."

Horror washed over her. He'd been there and witnessed his dead family firsthand?

"No skid marks. No broken glass. No witnesses. Just some paint flakes the lab couldn't trace to a manufacturer and this chunk of nondescript metal. I found it the next morning in a storm drain across the street. I've had two labs go over it. Can you understand why I was skeptical when you examined it and said it came from a Porsche?" Brian stared at the object in his hand. His face was placid, but his eyes sparkled with rehashed pain.

"Yes." She moved to his side. She'd have to pick her way through a minefield of words. If she stepped on one, it was all over. "My family had taken down a lot of cars." She swallowed the admission almost as fast as she'd said it. It was acid in her mouth, the flavor of a lifestyle she'd come to hate. One she'd run from years ago. She was still running. "I'm not proud of the way the McKinleys used to make a living, but I do know a piece of grillwork when I see one." She winced as he laid the metal back on the mantel and grasped her by her forearms. The intensity in his eyes threatened to melt her.

"Make me believe you. Can you do that?"

She matched his gaze with one of her own. Could she tell him the truth? The rumor was true. There had been a McKinley boost that night in his neighborhood. She knew the exact time, the exact street. She swallowed her doubt and raised her chin. "Yes."

Brian let her go and stepped back. He'd lost his freaking mind. He was going to trust her to tell him the truth? He looked at Natalie and Megan's pictures. It seemed like an eon since that night. The sharp edge had worn off of his pain and left only the need for closure. He could sleep now, but he'd sleep better when he caught their killer.

He looked at Kendall, her sweet features highlighted with the glow of innocence. "I'm going to hold you to it, but if you double-cross me, there won't be a place you can hide that I won't find you."

If he was frightening her, it didn't show. She looked back at him, unflinching, and he wanted to kiss her, but he held back. A tangled heart wasn't in his game plan. A tangled heart with a witness could never work.

"I planned to make dinner tonight. I better get on it."

She seemed disappointed when he stepped away from her and a slight degree of disappointment invaded him. There was something magnetic about Kendall. Brian had to decide if it was her or the answers he was sure she had.

"What are you making?"

He stepped into the kitchen, aware of her behind him. "Lasagna."

Brian lifted the groceries out of the bag and Kendall took over, shuttling them to the refrigerator. "I made lasagna once. You couldn't cut it with a chainsaw. I must have overcooked it. All I had left was garlic bread and the broiler got that. You should have seen the size of Kaden's eyes when smoke rolled out of the oven. We had hot dogs for dinner."

He liked her sense of humor. Liked the sight of her in his kitchen. She caught him staring and stopped. The air around them came alive with electricity.

"Tell me about Kaden's father." He knew he was digging too deep, shoveling too hard, but he had to know. Had to understand where they stood.

"We never got married. I got pregnant wihle we were engaged."

"Does that bother you?"

"It used to, but I've adjusted."

There was finality in her reply. Something he wished he'd been able to establish between himself and the past.

"Why didn't you marry him?" Curiosity took over, leaving discretion a winded second. It was a great talent for a cop, but not so good in the relationship department.

"I almost did and then he was hurt in the accident. There was no going back."

"I understand."

She licked her lips and fidgeted. There was more. What wasn't she telling him? He'd made her uncomfortable, of that he was sure.

"Did you love him?" His chest tightened and he wondered what it would be like to be loved by Kendall.

"As much as a young impressionable girl can love a macho good-looking male who thinks he's invincible."

"Fleeting?" he whispered, turning to her.

Kendall could see the tension in Brian's shoulders. Was he jealous? She touched his arm gently. This time he didn't pull away but drew her into his arms.

"This is crazy." His hoarse admission in her ear was true. It was crazy that he held her, crazier still that she needed it as much as the air in the room.

He kissed her, gently at first, but the intensity increased until she parted her lips against the pressure of his tongue. He tasted sweet. She kissed him back, fitted her body against his like a familiar lover. From deep in his throat, he moaned. Lifting her onto the edge of the counter, he slid his hands up the insides of her thighs and her knees parted for him, legs wrapping loosely around his hips as he kissed her neck and pulled her closer.

Inhaling his scent, she was caught up in the warmth of his touch, the strength of his body against hers. Could she let this happen? Could she give herself to a man who despised her family? Did he hate her, too?

She pushed him back and took a labored breath. "We can't...I can't..."

Brian's eyes were half-closed, clouded with need. He straightened and sobered, raking his fingers through his hair. She watched him struggle against his body. He turned his back to her and left the kitchen. They had to catch whoever was responsible for the hit-and-run. Strip Brian's doubts. If they met up again, she didn't know if she'd stop him. She'd have to prove herself to him. Prove that she'd had nothing to do with the deaths. It wasn't going to be easy, but then nothing in her life had been.

Hopping down from the counter, she edged into the living room.

Brian put a match to the gas log in the fireplace and watched the flames come to life. He doubted there was anything short of truth that could break the chill in his body. He watched her move into the room and sit down on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her. "How'd we get here, Kendall?"

"By car?"

Normally he would have laughed at her silly answer, but tonight was serious. He'd kissed her for real. Felt her heart beating against his.

"I don't know. Fate, maybe? An extreme villain with a knife for a friend?"

Brian rubbed his hands over his face and moved to the chair opposite her. He couldn't get too close. Couldn't touch her again. "What if five years of hunting and three weeks of hell were all staged to bring us to this moment? You and me?" He swallowed and looked into the depth of her eyes, which were lit an opulent black in the scarce lighting.

"That's stupid. It's impossible." She looked back at him, her brows raised in disbelief. "You think we're being led around like a couple of ponies at a horse show?"

His heart rate moved from a trot to a gallop. "Look at the evidence. Everything seems staged. It hit me this afternoon when I saw the knife sticking out of Otis Whittley's chest. Your knife." He couldn't keep the tremble of excitement out of his voice. "Five years ago your family's name came up, but I've yet to arrest any one of them for anything. I moved to auto theft so I could keep tabs on them. You don't believe they were involved. Maybe they weren't."

He got up and slid onto the sofa. "I end up in the trunk of the very same car you're going to repo. It's almost like our meeting was prearranged. It sounds crazy, but some patterns are."

Shame moved through Kendall's mind and gravitated into her body. It left her flushed and agitated. She had to tell him the secret. What would he do? How would he react? Her nerve flattened. The statue of limitations wasn't up.

"You think we're being manipulated?"

"Yeah. It makes sense. You're hired to repo cars. It looks legit. I'm the investigating officer."

She tried to soothe her frayed nerves. He was talking nutty, but what if he was on to something? "I was solicited for the repossession job. David Copeland called me out of the blue. I didn't know who he was, but I was broke, just trying to pay Jake's medical bills. He called when I was down to my last quarter."

"You see? This theory is solidifying. Things are starting to make sense. Callahan told me this afternoon that Whittley's Beamer was fitted with LoJack. Someone besides me had a bead on him. I had your car checked. If my hunch is right, Callahan will find it's been wired, too."

Brian tried to relax, but he couldn't. The knowledge pounded deep into his brain and anchored itself around his soul. They were game pieces. Joined together by a person or persons with a depraved mind. They'd killed in macabre fashion, and they'd kill again.

"We need to leave tonight. We're going underground."

Concern flashed across her face. He reached out to her. "It's not safe here...or anywhere. We have to assume they know where we are all the time."

"You're scaring me."

He took hold of her hand and pulled her against him. "I'm not telling you this to frighten you. I'm telling you because things could get...worse." Brian closed his eyes, trying to look ahead to the conclusion. What was the prize? What did the assailants have to gain? Why Kendall?

The splinter of glass startled her. She bolted upright, but Brian pulled her onto the floor before she had time to process what was happening.

A fiery burn invaded her eyes and singed her sinuses, sending fire down her throat. She fought to breathe and closed her eyes, but the burn only intensified. "Brian!" she screamed, reassured when he grabbed her arm.

"It's tear gas."

"I've got to get out of here...I...I can't breathe! Brian, help...please..." Pressure built inside of her chest, like a bucket of bricks pushed up against her.

"Come on." He pulled her to her feet. She steadied herself against him. Her senses in a tailspin, her knees buckled, but Brian's arms kept her from going down.

"Down the hall."

"Outside," she yelled, trying to open her eyes enough to see the front door. She pulled toward the door, but he pulled harder. She could just make out a canister lying below the window, spewing the toxic gas into the room.

"No, Kendall," Brian grabbed the device and chucked it out the hole it had come in, scooped her into his arms and bolted down the hall.

She held onto him, feeling the power and determination in his body. Why weren't they running out of the house? She needed air. Fresh air.

Hugging him tighter, she let trust replace her urge to run.

Brian opened the door at the back of he hall, slipped inside and shut it. He put her down and yanked the bedspread off of the bed. Using it, he stuffed the fabric into the crack under the door. "Come in here." His eyes, nose and throat burned with the chemical agent, but he had to tend to Kendall and call 911. He pulled her into the bathroom and closed the door. "Strip."

"What?"

"It's the only way. The chemical is on your clothing and your skin...it'll burn you. Undress. I'll run the shower." He turned on the water, adjusted it and tried to see through the wall of tears that poured from his eyes. Whoever had lobbed the tear gas through the window was waiting outside for them, but he wasn't going to risk Kendall's life. "Get in. I'll dial 911."

He guided her to the shower stall and opened the door. Liquid blurred his vision, but he could make out the rosy glow of her skin, the silhouette of her curvaceous body. Fighting the lust sparking deep inside of him, he closed the shower door behind her and shuffled out of the bathroom, feeling his way to the nightstand. Pulling the phone from its cradle, he called 911.

***


"Whoever did this is long gone, Brian."

Brian ran the end of the towel over his wet hair again and squared his shoulders to Callahan. "Figures. Did you find anything outside?"

"Couple of sets of footprints in the flower bed under the window. I'm having them cast right now. The canister might have some prints on it."

"We'll hope." Brian looked over at Kendall. She sat on a kitchen stool, wrapped in his robe. The whites around her eyes were a deep shade of pink and she was still blinking back tears. It was a good thing they'd stayed inside. His suspicions were confirmed. Whoever had put the canister through the window did it so they could grab Kendall when they fled the house.

Someone wanted her with a vengeance, but so did he.

"Anything on the car plate from this afternoon?"

"Stolen. Weeks ago."