Stronger Than Sin (18 page)

She was saddened by his actions, and he could understand why.

She didn’t like violence. That much had become evident to him over their many meetings.

“It won’t happen again, Liliana,” he promised, laying his hand over hers once more as it rested on her thigh.

She murmured her acceptance of his statement, then began tending to the abrasions on his hands by carefully smearing antiseptic
cream along his knuckles.

He closed his eyes as she cared for him, relishing that gentle touch. Wishing for more of it.

“Jesse,” she said.

He popped open his eyes and tracked the line of her sight, aware of what she was eyeing even before his gaze landed on his
very obvious erection.

“I’m sorry, but you’re a beautiful woman, and sometimes I can’t control what I’m feeling.” As in most of the time when she
touched him or he thought of her, he couldn’t control himself.

She shook her head, and the glint of tears there caught his attention.

He cupped her jaw, applied gentle pressure so that she was facing him. “Why the tears, Liliana?”

She tossed her hands up, then laid them on her thighs, where she rubbed her legs nervously. “What you feel… What
I
feel isn’t going to ever lead anywhere for us, Jesse.”

Score one,
he thought. She did have some feelings for him. Woman kinds of feelings.

“I know I’m your patient—”

“It’s not that, Jesse. And it’s not what’s happening to your body or the violence,” she said, her voice husky with suppressed
emotion.

“Then what is it?” he replied and traced his thumb along her cheek to swipe away the tear that had finally escaped from her
eye.

“I don’t trust you. And without trust…”

Without trust there was nothing, he knew, and he fisted his hands at his side as he said, “I guess you should finish up then
and go home, Doc.”

L
iliana completed her assessment of Jesse, her initial worries receding as it became apparent his bruises were remaining normal.
Ugly as they were, and as troubling as they were, there was no immediate sign of the injuries turning to bone.

The plasmapheresis had made a difference.

A sample would confirm it, but she was hesitant to do anything else to hurt him.

Jesse faced her, wondering why she had stopped, but then again, she had finished checking him out. Doctor-wise, that was.
After that initial flare of female interest, every glance and touch had been clinical.

“Something wrong, Doc?” He arched a brow for emphasis. Regretted it as the butterfly bandages close to his temple pulled and
pain radiated from the spot of the blow.

“That may be tender for a while,” Liliana said and motioned to it.

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

She shrugged, expressing her uncertainty about his condition with that simple gesture.

He covered both her hands with his one large one. “What do you need to confirm what’s happening?”

“Some samples.”

Samples. Giving more blood. Another cut or slice of his body. More damage, but what did it matter? He was damaged goods any
way you looked at it.

He held his hands open wide in a go-for-it gesture. “I’m yours.”

Liliana drew in a shaky breath. She’d never had a man tell her that. Her ex-fiancé had turned out to be a man who cared only
about himself and dominating her. He would never have relinquished control as Jesse had.

“Liliana?” he asked at her prolonged delay.

She wagged her head in chastisement. “Just thinking about where to take the skin sample.”

Jesse chuckled, tucked his thumb under her chin, and applied light pressure to raise her gaze to his. “You’re not a good liar.”

“Neither are you. I don’t doubt you went after Whittaker—”

“I did and I’m sorry for it.”

She scrutinized his face carefully and let out a rough chuckle. “You’re not sorry, Jesse. I suspect you’d do it again, which
makes me wonder what he did to piss you off.”

This time Jesse was the one who broke eye contact. “Take your pound of flesh, Doc. I’d like to take a nap.”

“A sample from your hand will do. And as for a nap, that’s a big no with that head injury.”

“Will you keep me company?” he asked, faking a little-boy-lost look even as he held out his right hand for her to take her
specimen for testing.

“I’ve got to get to the lab, but I’ll be back later.”

She efficiently took a small piece of abraded skin from
his knuckle and dropped it into a test tube. Then she drew another vial of blood from him. As she was tucking everything into
her medical bag, she dropped one of the tubes. Bending, she reached down for it, and something caught her eye beneath the
bed.

She pulled it out and realized it was a photo of a young woman—Jesse’s sister. It looked like the kind of photo a private
detective would take. The back of the photo was blurry, and the photographer had caught his sister talking to another young
girl in front of a brick building. Jackie had a knapsack slung over one shoulder. Judging from the books in the arms of the
two girls, the shot had been taken at her college.

A date stamp on the photograph indicated that the photo had been snapped the day before.

“This is your sister, right?” she asked and handed Jesse the photo.

The color slid from his face along with all the earlier good humor that he had mustered despite his injuries. A hard slash
replaced his smile as he accepted the photo. Tenderly he ran his fingers along the surface.

“It’s Jackie. Whittaker wanted to show me how she was doing.”

A dead tone rang in his voice. One that chilled her to the bone and sent warning vibes throughout her body. She suspected
Whittaker had had other reasons for the photos and suddenly suspected what had set Jesse off earlier: a threat to his sister.

“That was nice of him,” she replied, forced neutrality in her voice.

She knew, Jesse thought, half glancing at her while he stared at the photo of Jackie. The photos had gone flying
when he had pounced on Whittaker. In the aftermath of Liliana’s arrival, he had seen the other man scrambling to pick them
up, but he must have missed this one.

“Very nice,” he lied and remembered her words about trust. Or the lack thereof. It would take just a few words from him. Just
a few to let her know what was really going on, only…

A few words would risk not only his sister’s life, but Liliana’s. Instead he said, “I guess you should get going. Maybe ask
Bruno to keep me company.”

She swung her medical bag back and forth in that nervous gesture that was becoming endearingly familiar. Pursing her lips,
she considered him again, suddenly reminding him of his sixth-grade teacher.

Not a good memory. He had to drag up that image next time his wanderings were leading to dangerous thoughts of Liliana.

“See you later,” she said, and with a quick dip of her head, she left him with the photo of Jackie.

His little sister looked good. Looked happy.

If she was sick, as Whittaker had said, it was hard to tell that from the photo.

Of course, he hadn’t known he was sick, either. Not until the hit that had changed his life.

From outside his door came Bruno’s heavy tread up the stairs. He allowed himself one last glimpse of the photo before tucking
it into the nightstand drawer for safekeeping.

Bruno stopped at the door to the room, a murderous glare in his eyes. Eyes already showing hints of purple beside a nose nearly
twice its normal size.

“Sorry, dude. I couldn’t handle three-to-one.”

Bruno only grunted and walked over, stood by the bed silently while he eyeballed Jesse’s body.

“Must hurt like a bitch.”

Jesse tried to sit up, but pain erupted down his one side along with dizziness. Falling back onto the pillows, he said, “Definitely
hurts like a bitch.”

“Good,” Bruno said, pulled up a chair, and plopped down beside the bed.

Jesse screwed his eyes shut to battle the way the room was spinning. “Tell me a story, Bruno.”

“There once was a jock and a doc…”

L
iliana drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, contemplating Whittaker, Jesse, and the fight that had ensued as she
drove to the lab.

The only thing that rang true with her was Jesse’s assertion that he had gone crazy and attacked Whittaker. But she’d be lying
to herself if she said the violence didn’t bother her.

It did.

Jesse did.

Maybe because she sensed he’d had a very good reason for losing his cool—his sister.

Jesse had attempted to spin it. Okay, maybe
spin
was a euphemism for what he had really done.

He’d lied.

Another thing Liliana was none too happy about.

The light turned red and Liliana slowed to a halt. She had been so distracted she hadn’t realized she was blocks away from
both her parents’ restaurant and Ramon’s station house. And as eager as she was to take Jesse’s skin and blood samples to
Carmen for examination, something else called to her more.

When the light went green, she executed a couple of
turns, and within a few minutes she was sitting in the parking lot of the police station.

She hesitated, debating what she was about to do. If her concerns about Whittaker and Jesse revealed problems, she needed
someone who could deal with those issues. Normally she would have relied on her older brother, Mick. But she had already almost
lost him months earlier, and she didn’t want to interfere with all the good things going on in his life. Especially when she
knew Ramon was capable of handling what she wanted.

Confident that the specimens from Jesse would keep in the chill of the car, she locked it up and walked the short distance
to the front door. As she entered, the officer manning the front desk inched her head up and smiled.

“Dr. Carrera. How are you today?”

She leaned on the counter and her gaze skipped around the officers in the station. “Fine, Sylvia. I was wondering if the chief
was around?”

Sylvia nodded, inclined her head in the direction of the back of the office, and picked up the end of the counter to allow
her to enter the bullpen.

Liliana greeted the various officers at their desks on her way to Ramon’s office at the far end of the room. She paused at
his door, since he was on the phone and jotting down notes.

“Got it, Mayor. I’ll make sure the barricades are in place for the antiques fair on Sunday.”

Typical for the shore,
she thought. Festivals and fairs, boardwalks and beachgoers to protect. Not to mention policing the various shore homes that
sometimes sat vacant over the winter months.

Ramon noticed her standing at his door and grinned,
dipped his head in greeting. “Yes, Mayor. We’ve got the situation under control.”

With that he hung up and hurried to the door, where he wrapped her up in a big bear hug. Built much like her brother Mick,
Ramon was tall and muscularly lean, a holdover of his time in the military.

“What can I do for you,
prima?
”

He returned to his chair and offered her a seat.

Liliana entered but closed the door as she did, drawing raised eyebrows from Ramon.

“Something serious?”

“I need your help, only…” She drew in a long breath, and her hands plucked at the air as if she could find the words there.

Ramon folded his hands on the surface of his desk and leaned forward. “Anything you tell me is between the two of us, if that’s
what’s worrying you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “It is. I’m not even sure I should involve you.”

Reclining back in his chair, Ramon leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair and scrubbed one big hand across his face as he
considered her. Then he popped back up and said, “I know you, Lil. I trust your gut. If it’s saying something is wrong…”

She wished she could trust herself as much as her cousin did. Ever since her debacle with her ex-fiancé, she had doubted her
instincts. Even now, with the confused feelings she was experiencing about Jesse, she had her misgivings.

But there was one thing of which she was certain: something was wrong about Whittaker.

“I need you to find out more about someone. An FBI agent.”

Tilting his head, Ramon set aside the notes on his desk and grabbed his notepad. “Got a name for me?”

“Hank Whittaker. I assume ‘Hank’ is short for Henry,” she advised.

Ramon wrote down the name. “Do you know what office he’s in? Newark? Philadelphia? New York?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Age and general description?”

“Fifties. Salt-and-pepper buzz cut. Definitely ex-military,” she said, and Ramon arched a brow at that.

“How can you tell?”

Liliana smiled and pointed at him. “The stance. Attitude. He just smells of military, no offense intended.”

“No offense taken. Anything else you can give me?”

“Whittaker has two other agents with him. Howard and Bruno. No last names. Howard is like Whittaker. Bruno is straight out
of a wise guy movie.”

Ramon finished his note taking and faced her full-on. “Are you okay? Are these guys the only things troubling you?”

Liliana twined her fingers together to restrain her nervousness. She wished it would be as easy to twist together her tongue
and lips, because she wanted to spill her guts to Ramon. For all of her life he had been there, more like a brother than a
cousin. And much like a brother, she knew her confidences would stay with him. Knew he would protect her against harm, but…

This danger involved her heart. Because of that, she kept it secret.

“I’m okay. But as soon as you find out anything—”

“I’ll let you know.”

*     *     *

One bright moment in an otherwise troubling day,
Liliana thought as she glanced at the slides Carmen had prepared from Jesse’s blood and skin.

“No bone formation in the skin. Drastically reduced levels of bone proteins and free-floating marrow in the blood.”

“On the money. The plasmapheresis made a huge difference,” Carmen advised, hovering nearby as Liliana slipped the slides into
the microscope and cautiously reviewed them once more.