Temperature's Rising (31 page)

“I’m sure you can.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. He was doing it again. Patting her on top of the head. Maybe not literally, but in his mind that’s exactly what he’d done. Treating her as if she had no experience. Hell, he was barely paying attention to her. It was as if he’d already dismissed her.

How could one man be so blasted obstinate? She only wanted to go with him when he followed the Merediths.

If they did attempt a burglary tonight, he might need her help. “I don’t see what the harm would be.”

“No, you’re to stay here, Jessica.” For a second she had his full attention. “No arguments. And I refuse to talk about it anymore.”

“It’s my father’s job that’s on the line.” He turned and smiled. The kind of smile that made her want to . . . want to . . . scream! It reminded her of the first time they’d met. She felt a moment’s urge to wipe the condescending look off his face just as she had then.

“You’ll stay here at the house or I’ll call a halt to the whole operation right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Not when they might be the real criminals.” Would he?

“Agree to my terms or find out exactly what lengths I’ll go to.” He stepped forward and took her in his arms.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. Don’t you know how much I care about you?”

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But she didn’t want him just to care about her. She wanted him to love her. She stepped from his embrace.

Oh hell, had their relationship gone that far?

“Okay,” she choked out. “I’ll stay out of your way.” Conor opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. His attention returned to the window.

She’d fallen in love with him. Damn, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Wouldn’t her father have a field day with this? She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t want to make a lasting commitment. Sure, he’d enjoyed the sex. His idea of a long-term relationship was maybe a few weeks. This was just fucking great.

She squared her shoulders. This wasn’t the time to worry about her love life. She would have to put it on hold a while. At least until they discovered what the Merediths were up to. Right now, she had other things to worry about. Like getting around Conor’s stubbornness.

What if he needed help? There was only one way to assist him, but if she got caught he’d kill her.

Sure, she’d stay out of his way, but Conor wouldn’t be alone. At least not when he trailed them. Unlike the time when Barry caught her, she’d be more careful. A sudden chill swept over her—a foreboding. Just for a second, she wanted to rush into his arms.

She was being ridiculous. What could go wrong tonight?

Now who was she kidding? Anything could happen.

“You’ll call for backup as soon as possible, won’t you?

I mean, if they’re up to something illegal?” She didn’t want him taking any chances.

“I have my radio and cell phone. I want to make sure they’re not leading me on a wild-goose chase before I alert anyone.” He suddenly grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. As far as we know, they’re only going out for junk food.”

All she could do was nod and watch him leave—then sneak out the back. She didn’t have a good feeling about 268

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this. Maybe she should alert her father. But what if they
were
going for junk food or actually to move something?

They were supposed to be movers. But this late? Stranger things had happened, and they were pretty strange.

Maybe it would be better to wait before she alerted her father. Just until she knew what was going down.

Taking a deep breath, she went around the side of the house opposite the Merediths. She and Mike had camou-flaged his motorcycle at the side of the garage behind some tall bushes, covering it with a green blanket so it wouldn’t get scratched. All she had to do now was wait.

Ten minutes later, and she was still waiting. Had she and Conor been wrong? Maybe they weren’t going out after all. Maybe they liked sitting in the car. It would be just her luck if he caught her on Mike’s bike. He’d probably dump her on her father’s doorstep and never speak to her again.

It still hadn’t clicked with Conor that she really could take care of herself. Trying to convince him of that fact had been impossible. He reminded her of her father, brother, and male cousins—he was a typical bullheaded man.

The car inside the garage roared to life. She jumped, heart pounding inside her chest. Good lord, if she was this jumpy, what would she do if this actually turned out to be a robbery in progress?

No, except for the goat incident, and a couple of minor problems during this stakeout, she’d been a pretty decent cop. She could handle herself in a tough situation.

With some of her confidence returning, she plastered herself against the wall on the other side and waited. She didn’t have long.

When Conor pulled out, she strapped her helmet in place, rolled the bike from its hiding place, and climbed on. The motorcycle started the first time. Her cousin’s dire warnings echoed in her mind. If anything happened to his toy, he’d never forgive her.

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No, she grinned, and for a moment forgot the serious-ness of what was happening. He hadn’t liked it when she’d called his bike a toy. This was his baby, and she’d better remember that or he’d be the one skinning her alive rather than Conor.

She flipped on the headlight switch. A single beam of light lit the way.

The first few wobbles effectively removed any humor she’d felt. Had it been that long since she’d driven a motorcycle? Her heart beat frantically as she tried to regain her sense of balance. By the time she was down the driveway and onto the street, her confidence had returned, and the bike kept to a steady course.

Biting her lip, she glanced down the residential street.

No cars in sight. Had she already lost them? They must’ve turned the corner. She drove to the stop sign. Relief washed over her when she saw the back of Conor’s car. She turned, keeping a safe distance.
Please be more concerned with
the car in front of you
, she prayed.

She shivered. The night air had a distinct chill to it. Why hadn’t she thought to wear a jacket? She frowned. In July?

There wasn’t a chill in the air. Nerves? Maybe . . . more than likely. If Conor guessed she was behind him . . .

Surely he wouldn’t suspect she was on the motorcycle.

And she’d be careful to stay out of the way. If the Merediths were about to commit a crime, she would at least be ready to call for backup.

She played out the scenario in her head.

Conor would catch the burglars in the act and signal for backup. The Merediths would be arrested, the missing tape found and returned to the mayor. Her father’s job would be secure and everyone would go home happy. She would hurry back to the house without him knowing she’d even gone out.

Unless, of course, her father did have the real burglars locked up. If the Merediths stopped at one of the all-night 270

Karen Kelley

stores, she and Conor might feel extremely foolish and end up with nothing to show for the time they’d spent in the house.

A delicious shiver ran down her spine. That wasn’t exactly true. She would be taking a lot of yummy memories back to her apartment.

But memories won’t keep you warm on a cold winter
night.

She really hated it when the voice of reason popped into her head. Especially when it was right. She tightened her hand on the grips and forced herself to keep her mind on what was happening.

Conor turned on Main Street, where there was a little more traffic. Jessica kept two vehicles behind him and wondered why she had such a feeling of dread. Like something
would
happen tonight that could possibly change the rest of her life. And no matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake a feeling of impending doom.

Conor turned twice more, and again the traffic thinned. She dropped back, putting more space between them. He turned another corner. She frowned. Duncan Road? Surely they weren’t going to pull a heist tonight.

The only buildings in this area were warehouses.

There wasn’t another car on the road, and Conor was driving at a snail’s pace. She copied his speed, slowing at turns in the road so her headlight wouldn’t be detected, then hurrying to the next bend in the road.

Suddenly, Conor’s brake lights flashed bright red. She stopped at the top of a hill under an overhanging tree limb and shut off her headlight. His interior light came on as he opened his door.

Hiding the motorcycle behind a tree, she began to hoof it. Nothing like a jog down a narrow road late at night. It was right at the top of her list of things to do in this lifetime. Right along with getting mugged while jogging on a quiet country road in the middle of the night.

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She guesstimated it was only a quarter of the distance she usually ran. No big deal, if she didn’t step into a pot-hole and twist her ankle. She kept to a slow but steady pace to avoid just that.

After a couple of minutes of jogging, Conor’s car seemed to be farther than when she’d started. A film of perspiration dotted her forehead, and her heart boomed worse than a base drum at a high school football game.

She stopped, leaning against a mesquite tree and drawing a deep breath. Damn it, she wasn’t a couch potato.

Just the opposite. She was in damn good shape. So what was happening? Why couldn’t she get her act together?

Too much adrenaline? Fear? No, she didn’t think it was that. Excitement? She had a feeling that was closer to the mark. That and not focusing. That had to be it.

Get control.

She stretched her neck toward one shoulder, then the other. Slowly, she raised her hands above her head in a deep circle before bringing her palms together. The spiritualist said it would bring cosmic energy to the center of her body. She hadn’t tried that one yet, figuring her belly button didn’t really need energy.

Hell, she’d try anything once.

Focus!
Deep breath. Her pulse slowed as she thought about a cool mountain stream on a warm summer day.

“Yom-da-da-da-da.”

She opened her eyes. Calmness and serenity sur-rounded her. Maybe this shit really worked. Clamping her lips together, she narrowed her eyes and mentally placed a great, big target on Conor’s car.

Right now she felt as if she could tackle just about anything. Maybe her father was right when he’d told her that being a cop was more in her blood than she realized.

It still didn’t change the fact that she’d let an arsonist get away while she freed an ungrateful goat or that she’d felt like one of the guys all the time. The goat incident might 272

Karen Kelley

just have been the catalyst that pushed her to spread her wings and fly in another direction.

Yeah, she was really trying something new here. Okay, she had to admit that going undercover had been intoxi-cating. Conor thrown into the bargain hadn’t hurt, either.

Damn it, she didn’t want to be a cop any more than she wanted to have a relationship with one.

Almost there, she slowed to a walk and finally admitted to herself she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

She looked up. “Would you please tell me what the hel . . .

heck I’m supposed to be doing?” Silence.

Figured.

As she approached Conor’s car, she crouched down, surveying the area. She didn’t see him. He’d parked beside a small metal outbuilding. A long row of warehouses loomed ahead. She slipped to the corner for a better view.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, she peered around the side.

The full moon gave barely enough light to make out the metal buildings. Conor, holding his gun, looked inside one of them. The Merediths’ car was nearby. Before she could take another breath, she spotted a man sneak-ing up behind Conor. She didn’t have time to give a warning as he raised a metal object and hit Conor over the head. Conor slumped to the ground.

She slapped a hand to her mouth and swallowed her cry. Oh my God! Oh my God! He’d killed Conor. She bit her bottom lip.

No, she refused to think like that. Conor might not be dead. It could’ve been a glancing blow, or something.

She had to know for sure. Cautiously, she moved closer, keeping to the sides of the other warehouses until she was only a few feet away.

Her whole body began to tremble. Her legs had as TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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much strength as cooked noodles. Unable to do anything else, she sank to the ground.

The man threw down his weapon and began pacing in front of the warehouse. She glanced toward Conor, afraid there’d be a pool of blood under his head.

Had his arm moved?

She strained to see, pushing to her knees. Yes! She was almost certain he’d moved. She breathed a deep sigh of relief, then turned a narrowed gaze on the man who dared harm her lover.

There was something familiar about him. Her brow knit as she scanned the area. In fact, she’d been to this warehouse. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was listed through the agency she worked for. Her gaze returned to the stranger. Realization dawned. No, it couldn’t be.

Slowly she came to her feet. Now she was pissed.

Chapter 20

Al? That’s who stood over Conor? She clenched her fists, then unclenched them. No, it couldn’t be gentle Al.

But . . .

The man had the same walk—the same build. She was almost positive it was him.

But, her Al?

He was her friend . . . sort of. Not . . . not some criminal off the street.

Good lord, he lived with his mother. A frown drew her lips downward. At least, she thought he did. He said he did, but she’d never once met the woman. She’d only heard how much his mother loved to garden, and how she’d been so utterly lost since the death of her husband, Al’s father, and how she depended so much on her son to care for her.

But she’d never met this saint of a woman.

Still, wouldn’t she have suspected something? Been a little suspicious? When he turned toward her, she took a step back, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. In TEMPERATURE’S RISING