Beneath the Silk (22 page)

His jaw jerked, and he lifted an eyebrow. A second later, he raised one naked knee and rested his arm there, displaying himself openly. Finally, he said, “Afraid to lean on someone, Sis? It’s more than obvious you’re hungry for a man in your bed. Afraid the guy can’t stick it out for more than a week or two?”

All right, it was an excuse to keep from drooling over his marvelous package, or saying the wrong thing. She was furious with him, but, naked, Jack could make a million as a male centerfold—everything about him was larger than life.

Damn him for that. And damn him for being able to read her mind.

“Since you’ve been shooting insulin, can’t get anyone to carry the ball? Is that it? How many guys have come and gone? We both know there hasn’t been anyone recent because of the way you—”

“Shut up, Jack.” Sunni was practically standing on her head, looking under the bed for her slippers when she found one. She reached, gripped the hard sole, then stood slowly.

“I used to brush Dad’s teeth, too. Cream his feet to keep ‘em soft. Didn’t bother me, though.”

“Go to hell, Jack. Better yet, go back to New Orleans.” With that, Sunni hurled the slipper through the air. It made a loud smack as it hit him square between his eyes.

He grunted. Swore, then dropped his knee. The bedsprings groaned. Sunni didn’t stick around after that; she raced through the door.

“Going for higher ground, Sis?”

“The kitchen,” she hollered over her shoulder. “I need to eat breakfast in twenty minutes. You know us diabetics, Jack, we’re a royal pain in the ass.”

* * *

Sunni watched from the kitchen window as Jack leaned over and rested his forearm on a gray sedan, talking to the two detectives who had stood watch throughout the night.

Tom Mallory’s home was in a quiet neighborhood.

The front yard was well taken care of with sturdy oak
and elm trees to shelter the small two-story from the street. But Sunni wasn’t interested in oaks and elms or how quiet the neighborhood was. What was distracting her from keeping breakfast on time was the nicest, tightest male butt in the city aimed straight at the kitchen window.

He shoved away from the car and turned around. The morning was cool and he’d pulled on his leather jacket before he’d gone outside. She could see his breath as he started back to the house. His stride was long and his dark hair moved freely in the wind.

The tough-guy jacket and faded jeans fit him, she decided. And the tough-guy city where he’d grown up fit him, too. He had never really told her why he’d relocated to New Orleans, but last night when he’d mentioned Tom Mallory, she had put two and two together. The death of his ex-partner had driven him away from his home and the job that fit him better than his made-to-order shirts and hip-hugging sexy jeans.

The door opened. She turned, her chin as high as she could get it without staring at the ceiling. He leaned against the door frame, his hands finding his jeans’ front pockets, parting his jacket to show off his hell-raiser hard body. “I don’t smell any breakfast, Sis. How come? Stove not working?” He looked
at
the clock on the wall next to the table. “You got eight minutes if you want to keep on your breakfast schedule.”

Sunni glared at him, not liking him telling her what she already knew. “We’re having cereal. It won’t take me eight minutes to put a box on the table. More like thirty seconds.” That’s not what she had planned, but it was his fault she’d been unable to yank herself away from the window.

He didn’t say anything to that, just kept staring—staring at the twins. For heaven’s sake, now he had her calling them by that ridiculous name. Disgusted with herself, she stormed to the fridge and jerked it open, then bent over, “Mac? When are you going to pick him up?”

“He has to be awake before they’ll release him. I’ll pick him up around five. You miss him?”

“About as much as I’m going to miss you when you’re out of my hair and back in New Orleans,” she lied. “Eek!”

The sudden pinch on her butt cheek sent Sunni into orbit. On her way back down, he grabbed the milk carton out of her hand. “That’s for this lump.” He pointed to his forehead and the raised red welt, then walked to the table and set the milk down. When he turned around to face her, he was, again, ogling her.

“Knock it off, Jack.” She spun around to retrieve the box of cereal she’d seen earlier in the cupboard.

Suddenly an arm came around her and hauled her back against steel muscles covered in soft leather and rugged denim. He bent his head and, next to her ear, whispered, “I’m the one who can carry the ball.”

He kissed her ear, straightened quickly, then spun her and lifted her off her feet. A moment later she was sitting on the counter in pretty much the same vulnerable position he’d put her in last night. His hands clamped down on her knees and he jerked them wide and stepped forward. “Let’s get something straight here. Whether you believe it or not, I’m
the man.
It’s ironic, but your father told me that the day I left. He said, ‘Whether I like it or not, Ward, you’re the man.’ He said it just like that. I didn’t know how right he was then. But I do now.”

“Jack … don’t say that. Don’t say anything.”

“It’s too late. If I think it, I say it, remember? So here goes. I love you. I love your husky voice, the way you smell. I love your sexy clothes. The way you chew your food.” He grinned. “The way you moan when I’m inside you. I just can’t think of anything that I don’t love about you except your china cups.” His hands slid up her thighs. “I mean it. I’m the man who can carry the ball, Sis.”

He loved her.
Sunni silently recited the words. It was a dream come true, to be loved by Jack Ward. But he was wrong. He might be the man for her, but she wasn’t the woman for him. He deserved better. A woman who wouldn’t be a noose around his neck. A healthy woman who wouldn’t send him running to the hospital every other week if she got off her schedule and ate dinner an hour late.

“I know you’re afraid I’m going to run, but I won’t.”

Everything that Jack was, and stood for, was in-your-face, I’m-ready-for-whatever. And, yes, that was the problem. If he said he loved her, he did. If he said he wouldn’t run, he wouldn’t, no matter what happened or how much he regretted making that kind of a commitment.

I lived at the hospital and I hated it. I brushed his teeth. Wiped his nose, the other end, too.

Sunni buried her misery with a false smile. “It’s true I enjoy you in my bed, Jack. A good man, as they say, is hard to find. But sharing top-notch sex and a kitchen during a crisis situation is all we’ve been sharing. I don’t feel the same way you feel. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever will.”

He stared at her for a long minute. Then, he asked, “You’re sure?”

Forcing the lie between her teeth, Sunni nodded. “Sorry, Jack.”

He glanced down at his watch. “Three minutes. Let’s get you fed so you can keep on your schedule.”

Chapter 13

«
^
»

J
ackson was on the freeway with Mac laying beside him half-asleep—still groggy from his surgery—when something Lucky said the night before hit him. And as if his words had the power of the double-barreled
lupara
in the
broom closet, they blew a hole in the case.

He and Lucky had been talking about rumors and bad guys. Lucky had mentioned cops being saints. The words weren’t much by themselves, but Joe had used the words
saintly bastard
at the Shedd when they’d been talking about his mystery woman.

Hank had said there’d been talk Tom was on the take. He’d asked him to let him know first if he learned anything about Tom while he was in town.

As he headed back to Sunni, Jackson played the what-if game, then mentally made a list. After that, he concentrated on opportunity, human nature, and
the odds. He thought about heartless bad boys and
saintly cops, and decided his hunch was worth check
ing
out.

He made a phone call to Hank, and after a few pointed questions, the odds climbed higher. And that’s when he turned right on Ogden and punched in Joe’s private number. “This is me,” he said when he heard his friend’s voice. “One question, bro.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Was it Rhea?”

There was a long silence before the answer came. Then one word. “Yes.”

The odds suddenly tipped the scale. “I’m on Ogden headed north. Meet me at her place.
Capiche?”

“I have a key. We won’t have to break in.”

“And I thought Lucky was the one who lived dangerously. See you in twenty minutes.”

Joe was already in front of Rhea Williams’s house on Bliss Avenue when Jackson pulled up. As he climbed out of the rental car, leaving Mac asleep in the front seat, he studied his friend. Joe was leaning against his black Jag. He had traded his suit and tie in for a pair of jeans and a black leather jacket. He looked as tough as Lucky, puffing away on a cigarette with his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.

Jackson quickly closed the distance. “Let’s talk inside.”

Without a word, Joe shoved away from the Jag and produced a key from his pocket. Inside the small house, Jackson followed him through the kitchen and into a feminine living room in pastel colors. Before Joey sat down on the gray sofa, he removed his sunglasses and laid them on the wooden coffee table.

Jackson took a seat on the piano bench not far
away. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

Joey closed his eyes for a moment as if he needed to
arrange the order of what he was going to say. When he opened them, he said, “I met her at the hospital. Lucky was getting stitched up. She was there
getting a few of her own. Seems she ran into a
door.”
He swore, his gaze unwavering as he stared Jackson down. “She was pretty bad off that time. Me and Lucky volunteered to take her home.”

Jackson frowned. “Just like that?”

“Stud had been working for Frank for about a year at the time. Seemed appropriate.”

“So Stud Williams is on the take. I never would have guessed that.”

“Why not? Too saintly?”

There was that word again. Jackson shrugged. “I knew he was hard on Rhea.”

“Hard on her? He beat her, Jacky. Beat her hard.”

“I
knew he was obsessed with her. Took
after a
couple of guys at the precinct once. They had made remarks about her long legs, and her being a natural blonde. When she divorced him, he damn near went crazy. She asked me and Tom to help her get this place. I moved her in here.”

“She told me.”

“Tom liked her a lot. He came to see her after the divorce. After his death, Stud became my partner, remember? It didn’t last long. He liked things black-and-white and I’m color-blind so… Anyway, that’s about the time I made the move to New Orleans. I called Hank on the way over here. He told me Rhea moved away about a week after I left town.”

Joey said, “Stud stalked her. He wanted people to think that he had accepted the divorce but he never did.”

“So you offered her a ride home that night. And then?”

“Nothing. Until it happened again. She was at the hospital when she called. He’d hurt her real bad that time. I went and got her.”

“And then?”

Joey’s jaw jerked. “I spent the night. Right here on this sofa. She was scared. Scared of the dark. Scared of the slightest noise. Hell, even of her own shadow.”

“But not you.” It wasn’t a question.

“There was something going on between us from the moment we laid eyes on each other. I know that now. I can’t explain it.”

Jackson understood. It had been
the same for him and Sunni. Smiling, he said, “You always did have
a weakness for natural blondes.”

“I never saw her bruise-free.” Joey swore. “Stud hurt her in ways that I can’t begin to describe, Jacky. I should have killed him. I regret that I didn’t, but he was on Frank’s payroll. And you know the rules I have to play by. I couldn’t do it without bringing a bunch of hell down on all of us, so I didn’t do anything.” Joey closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. After a long minute, he opened them again. “Anyway, I was engaged to Sophia. I had no business looking at Rhea Williams. Sophia and I were suppose to be married before the end of the year.”

“Did Stud know about you and Rhea?”

“No. And neither did Sophia. We were careful. Lucky was my watchdog.”

“For how long?”

“Two months.” Joey puffed on his cigarette. “Then one day I came here and she was gone. I tore the city apart looking for her. At first I thought Stud had done something to her. But he was looking for her, too. He even asked Frank to call in a few favors to help him find her. Frank put out feelers coast-to-coast. But it’s like she just vanished. After that, Stud picked up the lease on this place. He told Frank he wanted to keep it in case Rhea came back.”

“D’Lano?”

Joey stared at Jackson. “You think Sophia found out I was seeing Rhea behind her back and had her father kill her?”