What Mattered Most (2 page)

Steam silvered the bathroom mirror, and John wiped it away before smoothing a comb through his hair. Beside him, Lanie pulled her thick, dark hair into a casual knot. She shot him a cynical glance. “We’re over an hour late. Everyone’s going to know what we’ve been doing.”

Affection thrummed through him, and with a grin, he pulled her into his arms. Her stomach bumped into his lower abdomen, the fit not quite as perfect as in the past. “We could stay in. Order Chinese and sit by the fire. I’ll rub your ankles.”

Temptation lurked in the golden depths of her eyes. “No, we can’t. She’ll only be here two days.”

With a sigh, he let her go and walked into their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled on socks and his shoes. “Which cousin is this, anyway?”

“The perfect one.” Disgruntled affection colored Lanie’s voice.

John chuckled. “Is she really perfect?”

“No.” Returning to the room, Lanie lifted a silver pendant on a long chain from her jewelry box and slid it over her head. The pendant, a stylized infinity swirl, nestled between her breasts and shone against her black tunic sweater. “She was just smart enough not to get caught.”

An emotion John couldn’t quite decipher shimmered in her voice, just below the surface. Resentment? Regret? He couldn’t be sure. Either way, he could think of better ways to spend an evening than sitting around while Lanie caught up on old times with her faultless cousin. Like sitting in front of the fire, Lanie in his arms, and the quiet of the house wrapped around them.

While putting on small silver stud earrings, Lanie met his gaze in the mirror. “Are you ready—”

His cell phone’s shrill chirp cut through the air. Shrugging in silent apology, he grabbed the phone from its charger. “O’Reilly.”

“John?” His partner’s voice greeted him and sent a shiver over his nerves, as it always did when he was unprepared. And even sometimes when he was prepared, when they sat close together in the unmarked unit, and he remembered the way it had been between them. Once upon a time when they’d been more than just colleagues and friends.

“Hey.”
Beth
, he mouthed at Lanie’s quizzical look. She smiled and turned away, dabbing an expensive, rarely-used perfume on her pulse points. “What’s up?”

“I know you and Lanie are going out tonight, but I need a favor.” Apology hovered in Beth’s voice.

“Name it.”

“I’m at the sitter’s, and my damn car won’t start. Could you—”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Lanie glanced up at him, a question in her eyes, but none of the resignation and anger he knew lots of cops saw in the eyes of the women who waited at home.

“Great.” Relief pushed the apology from Beth’s tone. “I’ll drop you at Emerson’s on my way home.”

The line went dead, and he clipped the phone on his belt. “Beth’s at Sally Gilbert’s place, and her car won’t start. I’m going to walk over there and see what I can do.”

Lanie shook her head, affectionate acceptance sparkling in her eyes. “Why doesn’t she trade that piece of junk in? With what she spends on parts monthly, she could buy a new car.”

John shrugged into his leather jacket. Memories of making love to Beth one long ago night in the battered Ford clicked through his mind. Guilt tore through him, and he shoved the recollection away. His focus should be on the woman in his embrace, not the one who didn’t want him anymore. “She loves the damn thing.”

“It’s not safe.” Lanie tilted her head back to smile up at him, her arms going around his waist. “I take it you’re going to meet me at Emerson’s?”

He dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I am.”

The baby moved, a hard kick that vibrated through John’s own abdomen. Lanie smiled, her golden gaze warm. “Be careful.”

“You, too.” He pulled away, nervous tension already settling in his stomach as he prepared to pretend to be just Beth’s friend, just her partner. “I’ll see you later.”

Once he’d tightened the battery cable, John stepped back from the car. “Try it now.”

The motor fired to life on the first try, and he dropped the hood to find Beth grinning at him from the driver’s seat. “You’re wonderful,” she said as he climbed into the car.

Adjusting his seatbelt, he glanced over his shoulder at Nicole, drowsing in her booster seat. The five-year-old clutched an old, ragged stuffed bunny. John shook his head, remembering what the bunny had looked like brand new. He’d bought it for her, a couple of Christmases ago. “Don’t you ever wash that thing?”

Beth laughed, steering onto the street. “Have you ever tried getting it away from her? Just wait until your son gets here. That kid is going to get a double dose of stubborn from you and Lanie.”

“Yeah.” He looked away, uncomfortable talking about this with her. Work. A nice, safe subject. Nothing with emotional teeth there. “Did you request a copy of that incident report?”

She glanced at him, eyebrows lifted. “I did. And stop trying to change the subject. How did Lanie’s doctor’s appointment go today?”

“Okay, I think.”

“You think? John, I swear, to hear you, someone would think you didn’t even know she was having a baby.” She reached over and patted his knee. “You’ve got to get your act together or you’re going to forget to show up at the hospital while she’s in labor.”

The brief contact spread comfortable warmth through his body, and he shrugged away.
Think about something else. Baseball. The Yankees in the World Series. Autopsies. Remember that last body, the guy who stepped in front of a semi. Lanie. Think about
Lanie
, for God’s sake. You know, the woman who’s having your baby, the woman who’s everything you’ve ever looked for—smart, beautiful, independent, sassy as hell.

Except she wasn’t the woman sitting in the driver’s seat. She wasn’t the woman he’d sworn to protect with his life. She wasn’t the woman he’d loved without hope for years.

“John?” Beth’s quizzical voice brought him out of the reverie. She glanced at him, a wide grin curving her full bottom lip, and heat flushed his cheeks.

“I was thinking.” He hated the defensiveness in the mumbled words.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I won’t ask what about. God, do you two ever make it out of the bedroom?”

“Yeah.”
But not very often. Because when I’m with her, she makes me forget about you
. He watched the dark silhouettes of trees and houses whiz by. He’d never understood why Beth wanted to live in the country, in the middle of nowhere, after spending her entire adult life in the constant movement of Manhattan and El Paso. Although, he’d grown to like living on the beachfront with Lanie, having the peace of the Gulf in his backyard.

Beth slowed to make a turn onto McCollum Road, the sparsely populated cut-through to the beach area. “You know, I’m really glad you found her. She’s perfect for you. Didn’t I tell you that you’d find the right woman one day?”

“You did.” The night she’d told him it was over, right after he’d poured out his heart, offered to be Nicole’s daddy and tried to get her to forget the man who’d ruined her life.

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it—”

Her sarcastic rejoinder faded as the car lurched and sputtered. Beth’s low curse filled the darkness. The engine coughed one last time and died. As she steered to the shoulder, she slammed her palm against the wheel. “Damn it, not again.”

With a low chuckle, John released his seatbelt. “Face it, Cameron, the car’s possessed.”

“She’s just temperamental.”

He tossed her his cell phone. “Do me a favor. Call Lanie on her cell and tell her where we are while I look under the hood.”

“You’re so domesticated, O’Reilly.”

The teasing chafed his already raw nerves. Lifting the hood, he surveyed the engine. What the hell was he supposed to look for? A loose battery cable, no problem. Anything more complicated than that? He didn’t have a clue.

He dropped the hood, the latch snapping closed. “Hey, when you get Lanie, ask her if Burnett’s there—”

“Don’t move, O’Reilly.” Doug Mitchell’s gruff voice, instantly familiar, sank into John’s consciousness, and the hair lifted on his body. He’d known this would happen one day. He’d known Mitchell would come back—for Beth. The distinctive click of a round being chambered in a semiautomatic handgun strangled the breath in his throat.

He reached for his own gun. “Beth! Lock the doors and stay in the car!”

As his fingers closed around the butt of his gun, stunning pain slammed into the back of his head. He slumped, trying to shake off the disorientation, hearing Nicole’s panicked crying.

He tried to push up to his feet, his head throbbing. He had to get up, had to stop Doug Mitchell before he finished what he’d started three years ago. Had to stop him before he killed Beth. He reached again for the gun that was no longer there. “Mitchell, you son of a—”

Mitchell’s foot connected with his ribs. The bones gave with a sickening crack, agony exploding in his chest. Adrenaline surged in his veins, and he pushed to his feet, launching himself at Mitchell’s black silhouette.

The gun butt smashed into his face, and he sank to his knees. Still struggling to rise, he gasped for breath while fury and pain gripped his body. Another kick pushed the air from his lungs.

“John! Doug, don’t do this!” Beth’s scream mingled with Mitchell’s curses in the still, cold air. Darkness sucked at John, and he heard two things before the blackness pulled him under—Beth calling his name, followed by gunshots.

Half-listening to the conversation swirling around her, Lanie checked her watch again. Forty-five minutes. Where the hell was John? Probably still at Sally Gilbert’s, talking shop with Beth.

Lanie leaned forward, rubbing at her lower back in an effort to ease the mild ache, her constant companion for the past month. The dull throbbing continued, and she stood. “I’m going to step outside for a minute.”

The oceanfront deck that jutted over the beach was deserted in the frigid evening air. Emerson’s boasted three levels, and as usual, people packed the place tonight. However, few dared to venture out of the restaurant’s warm cocoon.

Lanie pulled her cell phone from her small purse and dialed John’s number. The voice mail picked up, his clipped Manhattan accent wrapping around her. “John… You’re late. Call me.”

After disconnecting, she punched in Sally Gilbert’s number. Sally answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Sally? It’s Lanie Falconetti. Is John still there, by any chance?” She leaned against the railing, watching the white-capped waves roll ashore. The baby moved, a strong jab to her ribs. She rubbed at the spot, the knobby outline of a foot beneath her fingers.

“No, he left with Beth about thirty minutes ago.” Worry entered Sally’s voice. “You don’t think they broke down again, do you?”

Unease shivered over Lanie’s skin. “I doubt it. They’re probably just talking shop. I’ll try Beth’s place. Thanks, Sally.”

Ending the call, she hit number seven, Beth’s home phone stored in her speed dial. No answer. Where were they? She tapped the phone against her lips. She’d give him five minutes then she’d corral Steve or somebody and go look for them.

“God, it’s freezing out here.”

Startled, Lanie jumped at Caitlin’s husky voice. She glanced at her cousin, who leaned on the railing next to her. Caitlin pulled her jacket closer and rubbed at her arms. Lanie smiled. “Then what are you doing out here?”

“Checking on you while you check up on him.”

Lanie didn’t like the implication in her cousin’s words. “I’m not checking up on John. He’s late, and his partner drives the flaming car of death. I’m worried, that’s all.”

One of Caitlin’s perfectly shaped brows rose. “Do I detect a note of defensiveness there, deputy?”

“No. You detect a note of annoyance.”

“With me or the absent detective?”

“Cait, stop interrogating me. He’s late. He’s late a lot. It’s no big deal.”

“I never said it was. You
are
tense, though, Lane.”

Lanie sighed, tucking her phone back into her purse. “I don’t know why I’m so irritable. Chalk it up to hormones or something.”

“Chalk it up to your Falconetti temper, and maybe a change in circumstances,” Caitlin teased. “I mean, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d actually commit to a man.”

“Who said I was committed?” Lanie wanted to call the words back the instant they left her lips. Who was she kidding? She’d been committed to John O’Reilly since the first time she went to bed with him.

“You’re having his child. I’d call that a pretty big commitment. The next thing you know, you’ll be sporting a wedding ring.”

Hardly. Lanie remembered John’s offhand offer of marriage when she’d told him she was pregnant. She’d refused, thinking she didn’t need the ring or the paper. He loved her, even if she didn’t have the words. She was sure of it—the emotion was there every time he touched her. And if sometimes a niggling doubt raised its ugly head, whispering she should have taken the offer… Well, she squashed it ruthlessly.

John loved her. She loved him. They would share a child, a family. That’s what mattered most.

“Lane? You still with me?”

Lanie blinked, hating the teasing, knowing expression in Caitlin’s green eyes. That was the problem with having a cousin who was closer than a sister would be—she couldn’t hide anything. The baby jabbed her again, and she winced. The kid was going to break one of her ribs before he was born. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me? Like write a profile or chase down some psychopathic serial killer?”

“I’m on—”

“Lanie.” Steve strode across the deck, his never-serious face set in grim lines. Foreboding trickled down her spine, especially when Caitlin stiffened, too.

“What’s wrong?”

He stopped in front of her, his dark gaze intent. “Preston just located Beth Cameron’s car, disabled, on McCollum Road.”

Lanie relaxed, a relieved sigh escaping her. “Well, that explains why he’s late again—”

“Beth and the little girl are missing.”

The apprehension returned, grabbing her spine with an icy hand. “What? Where’s John—”

Steve darted a look at Caitlin, who edged closer, her hand warm at the small of Lanie’s back. “He’s being taken to Cutter General. Estimated arrival is in five minutes-”

“Oh God.” Lanie covered her mouth, nausea pitching in her throat. Her other hand slipped to her stomach, curved around her baby. “What happened? Is he—”

“I don’t know what his condition is. But he’s alive.”

Hysteria tried to take her voice. “Steve, damn it, what happened?”

“He’s been shot.”