“I believe this samba has our name on it.”

“No more shoptalk,” she said when he set his hands on her waist and followed her to the dance floor. “But neck nuzzling is definitely allowed.”

For a moment, as they passed the line of French doors, she heard the wind raging outside. Then it was all music and the magic of the moment. And Tal.

He was hot, and dazzling her with his aura. The sexy, sensual essence that was and always had been uniquely Tal. She was losing herself in it, until he spoke.

“This isn’t why I came tonight, Maya,” he said against her hair. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Lowering his head, he slid his tongue over her ear. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“You couldn’t hurt me if you wanted to, Tal.”

“Consider yourself warned,” he murmured against her throat before he kissed her.

Jenna Ryan
Kissing the Key Witness

Merlyn;

You were the love and the joy of our lives.

On to the next big adventure.

Have fun, sweetheart…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jenna Ryan loves creating dark-haired heroes, heroines with strength and good murder mysteries. Ever since she was young, she has had an extremely active imagination. She considered various careers over the years and dabbled in several of them, until the day her sister Kathy suggested she put her imagination to work and write a book. She enjoys working with intriguing characters and feels she is at her best writing romantic suspense. When people ask her how she writes, she tells them by instinct. Clearly it’s worked, since she’s received numerous awards from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. She lives in Canada and travels as much as she can when she’s not writing.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Maya Santino—An E.R. doctor, she was the last person her ex spoke to before he died.

Stephen Talbot (Tal)—Miami Homicide lieutenant, he must protect Maya from the people who want to kill her.

Gene ‘Quick Draw’ McGraw—How far will the Fraud cop go for a promotion to Homicide?

Don Drake—The Homicide captain is living better than he should.

Nate Hammond—The retired Fraud captain pursued but never caught his notorious nemesis.

Jamie Hazell—The E.R. nurse has serious financial problems.

Orlando Perine—The powerful corporate mogul has cops on his payroll and a very vindictive nature.

Falcom—He turned on his powerful boss. Now, he is desperate to get back the information he sold to the police.

Adam Tyler—Maya’s ex-husband hid important information right before he died.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Prologue

August in Miami.

Even in the dead of night, the air felt heavy. Prickles, like spiky fingernails, danced along fraud detective Adam Tyler’s spine. He smelled more than fetid air outside the waterfront warehouse. Anticipation carried its own scent, and he’d been breathing it since late afternoon.

Too bad his captain had gone deep-sea fishing for the weekend, unplugged and incommunicado until Sunday night. But no sweat. Adam had been a detective since before his ill-fated marriage seven years ago. He could sit on anything, big or small, for a couple of days.

“Yeah, right.” He grinned as he pulled the parking brake on his prized 1967 Shelby Mustang. “And pink elephants really do exist.”

He glanced at his watch before heading to one of the small bay doors. He’d met snitches here countless times over the years. The Cuban-born owners knew that but said nothing, because—big surprise—they didn’t want the contents of their shipping crates examined by anyone calling himself a cop.

The prickles continued to tap-dance across his skin, Adam gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust, then made his way to the storage unit’s crowded center.

It smelled worse in here than outside. Tiny claws scrabbled on concrete as he squeezed between the towering crates. Catching a movement ahead, he let the grin return. His informant was acting more like the rodents around him than the bird of prey whose code name he’d adopted. The man’s head shot up as Adam’s holster scraped across the face of a crate marked Bananas.

“Only me,” he said when Falcon’s hand crawled inside his hoodie. “For the record, I was off duty and halfway across the city when you called.”

“I want it back.”

Adam resisted the urge to laugh. Not only had his snitch been pacing like a jittery rat, but in the bad light he actually resembled one. A cartoon version, with popping eyes, long fingers and feet comically elongated by deep patches of black.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, pal, but it’s done. I’ve got my evidence. You’ve got your immunity. Fair deal all around.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to turn him in.”

Adam leaned on one of the towers. “Uh, refresh my memory. Who came to whom, begging for help?”

Falcon spoke through clenched teeth. “I had my reasons back then. Situation’s changed. I want it back.”

“Not an option.” Adam reached for his backup weapon. “And if you’re thinking about shooting me for it, you’ll be wasting good bullets. I’ve already—”

“Your captain’s gone fishing,” Falcon blurted, then offered a cynical smile. “I’ve got my sources, too, Tyler. You haven’t turned it over yet. Can’t until Monday. Means my boss’ll be free to kill me for another sixty hours. Even then I won’t be safe. I’m not the only person on his payroll.”

“Just the most cowardly.” Adam shrugged. “Or maybe the most desperate.”

“Do you know what he’s capable of?”

“I’ve seen his work.”

Falcon made a frantic flapping motion. “He’s got, like, elephant ears.”

“Well, I’ve got, like, elephant feet, and one of them’s about to boot you in your canary-yellow ass. He won’t—”

“He will.”

“Falcon, even Orlando Perine wouldn’t—”

His informant surged forward, teeth bared. “Talk about asses. I’m telling you, Tyler, he’ll yawn while he’s pulling the trigger. That’s how big a deal murder is to him. We’re talking ice water for blood. Reptilian brain. No emotion. Okay, I was desperate to get out, get away, so I did something stupid. But he found out. He knows someone’s turned. Doesn’t know who. Only that one of his people sold him out. Or is about to. Bottom line? It’s not worth the risk. I’d rather go to prison and live than die the way he’ll kill me if he finds out what I’ve done.”

Adam pushed off the tower of crates. “Have you been taking drama lessons as well as drugs? Gear down and breathe, okay? No one’s going to die. And no one but me is ever going to know—”

A sudden sharp pain in his shoulder, followed by another to the left of his spinal column, brought him up short. Blinking, he looked down at the front of his shirt. Twin blotches of red spread quickly across the fabric.

“Oh, hell…”

His vision wavered. He heard Falcon swear; saw him jump sideways and vanish behind a crate.

The prickles on his spine turned to claws that scratched so deeply, they scored his lungs. His chest heated and filled. His mind began to fade.

“Guess I was wrong,” he murmured. “Looks like someone’s going to die, after all.”

The black took over as he pitched face-forward onto the warehouse floor.

Chapter One

“Maya, wait!”

So close, Maya Santino reflected, with a sigh. She’d actually made it to the staff exit this time.

A lanky E.R. nurse swooped in from the side. “Nice try, Doc, but it’s a no go.” Spotting Maya’s earbuds, she cupped a hand to her mouth. “I said, we need you, Dr. S.”

“Yes, I gathered that, Jamie.” She pulled out the earbuds and stuffed the iPod into her oversize bag. “What’s the problem?”

“McVey’s here.”

Although she wanted to resist, Maya let her friend and colleague propel her back along the corridor. “You do know I was coming off a ten-hour shift even before that last two-hour meeting, right?”

“Is it my fault the man won’t see anyone but you?” Jamie Hazell continued to push her forward. “Admissions says his hand’s wrapped in a filthy towel, but he flat out refuses to go to the clinic. Says it’s you or no one. There’s Lysol at the desk if you want it.”

Maya grinned. “My uncle raises chickens in South America. Spend a weekend on his farm, then talk to me about McVey.” A brow went up. “Treatment room four?”

“As far from the madding crowd as possible.”

“There’s a madding crowd?”

Jamie swept a hand in front of her as they rounded the corner. “You decide.”

From Maya’s perspective, it was only mild mayhem. She’d seen much worse during her three-year tenure at Miami’s Eden Bay Hospital. Once, the sea of gurneys had been so deep, she’d been forced to climb over one to reach another.

Of course, they’d been smack in the middle of the hurricane season then. Storm after storm had pelted the southern coast. There’d been home and highway accidents, tramplings and assaults. Scores of buildings had been damaged. Maya’s roof had taken two beatings from uprooted trees. Her car had gotten it from a toppled streetlamp.

Reaching out, she straightened her friend’s name badge. “Cheer up, Nurse Hazell. You’re transferring out of the E.R., remember? Thirty days and counting.”

“Unless Dr. Driscoll changes his mind. It’s happened before. Enjoy your patient.”

Five minutes later, her earbuds replaced by a stethoscope around the collar of her lab coat, Maya pushed through the treatment-room door.

McVey—it was the only name he used—sat on a table. His thin shoulders were hunched, and his back was bowed. The thought struck, as it often did, that he seemed familiar in some way. Then, poof, the thought vanished, and he was just McVey again, a man currently in a great deal of pain.

He supported his injured left hand with a grimy right. He might not live on the street, but Maya suspected the odd jobs he did at a low-income apartment complex didn’t keep him far from it.

“Okay.” Using her two index fingers, she indicated the bloody towel. “What’s the story?”

“Got slammed in a furnace door. Rusty metal, sharp edges. Tore the skin when I jerked free. Uh, is Witch—sorry, Nurse Hazell working tonight?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Maya watched his face as she unwrapped the towel. He kept his eyes averted. Meant he was lying about something, though she figured the rusty-metal part was probably true enough.

“Any point asking if you’ve had a tetanus shot over the past decade?”

He almost smiled, but still didn’t meet her eyes. “Any point trying to fake you out?”

“Not much.” It was a deep gash that would require several stitches. “Why me?”

Another near smile. “Because you’re pretty?”

“Other doctors are prettier.”

“But only you remind me of Sabrina.”

“Excuse me?”

“The movie, remember? Audrey Hepburn was the title character. She grew up and was transformed, like you’ve done since you came here as a resident.”

“Have I known you that long? Huh, blink and the years fly by.”

A grim-faced Jamie came into the room. She sorted through the instrument tray while Maya finished her examination.

McVey’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not gonna spray me again, are you, Nurse?”

“I’d like to do more than spray you,” Jamie retorted, with an expression that made Maya’s lips twitch.

“Careful,” she warned when McVey opened his mouth. “Remember, Nurse Hazell administers the local.”

He pressed his lips together for the duration, even took the tetanus shot without a whimper. But then she suspected he was accustomed to injections and, if the alcohol on his breath was any indication, not in quite as much pain as he could be.

“Okay. Done.” She snapped off her latex gloves. “Grab a doughnut on your way out.”

The door cracked open, and an intern’s head appeared. “Sorry to interrupt, Doctor, but there’s been a pileup on the interstate. Twenty, maybe thirty cars. Several injuries, and we’re the closest E.R.”

“We’re also the most understaffed,” Jamie called after him. “Crap. Why’s it always us?”

“Fate or proximity to the freeway. Take your pick.” Maya started for the door. “Keep that hand as clean as you can, McVey. Come back Monday, before I go off shift, and I’ll look at it.”

Her attention shifted instantly at the sound of sirens wailing. She joined the line of attendants jogging toward the entrance.

It was going to be a very long night.

EVERYTHING AROUND HIM had gone gray and blurry, even with his eyes open. Sort of open, Adam amended, inasmuch as he could think with the light that kept tugging at him. Beautiful light, silvery and soft. It had siren qualities, but he resisted the lure.

He sensed movement, saw the gray haze alter. Ugly streaks of red slashed it apart. Noise, like shrieking daggers, jabbed into his brain. Hands clutched his shoulders and shook him.

“Don’t die,” Falcon pleaded from above. “I need that information back.”

Adam would have laughed if an anvil hadn’t been sitting on his chest.

“I have to go.” The snitch’s voice faded. “Someone’ll help you. I’ll come back when you’re better. I don’t think he saw me in the warehouse. I think you blocked his view….”

Probably true, Adam thought fuzzily. Man, this had definitely not been his night.

The darkness thickened, grew hotter, stickier. He couldn’t swallow, could no longer think. Faces flashed inside the red. His ex-wife’s, his old friend’s, his new enemy’s.

Voices shouted indistinct words. The hands on his shoulders fell away. He heard Falcon swear, then a more familiar voice.

“Adam?”

Startled but not panicky. Female.

“Maya?”

She leaned over, and he saw her face. Exotic features, dark hair, incredible eyes. Bluer than a tropical lagoon.

“Screwed up,” he murmured. “Made you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Maybe not, but she was waking the pain anyway.

The light around him intensified. He was breathing fire now. He felt her hands on him and groped until he caught her wrist. “Stop,” he croaked. “Listen.”

“Adam, I can’t help you if—”

“I’m dead, Maya. I know it, and so do you. Do this for me, please.”

“Do what?”

He squeezed. “Take care of things. Made a will last year. Straightforward. Money, investments—they’re my sister’s. Condo’s yours. Go through it and—Ahh!” Pain sheared from chest to brain. He had to talk through his teeth. “Don’t let my brother have the Mustang…Crash addict. Give my sweet baby to Tal.” He fumbled two sets of keys from his pocket. “Condo keys, car keys. Promise.”

“Yes, okay, I promise. Now let me help….”

“There’s more. Stuff, official stuff. Hid it. Don’t trust anyone, anywhere. Huge mistake. Big fish, small pond. S’all I can say. Tell Tal to finish the deal.”

The light flared. It seemed to explode like a starburst that went from a bang to a fizzle.

“Sorry, babe.” He rattled out a breath. “I’ll tell your mom you’re good.”

“Adam?” Now she shook him. “Adam!”

The last thing he saw was her face. Then the sparkles died, and there was nothing.

“DR. SANTINO?” A NURSE with red curls and acne touched her sleeve as she stared at her ex-husband’s face. “A lower body trauma’s just come in. Female. Six months pregnant.”

Through the buzz of shock in her head, Maya caught the last part of the nurse’s statement. She shook off what she could and refocused. “Where?”

“Over there.” The young nurse—Cassie? Callie?—pointed. She looked down, then hesitantly up. “Can I, uh, do anything for you?”

“No. Thanks, but no.” With a hand that wanted to shake, Maya closed Adam’s eyes. She regarded the paramedic who’d helped her lift him from the ground to the gurney. “Take him inside. I’ll be right there.”

“Got a bleeder over here,” another nurse called.

The words jarred. “Thirty seconds,” Maya told the redhead. “Get Jamie to take the bleeder.”

Turning away, she pressed two fingers to her temples. She needed to settle herself, to absorb what had just happened.

Adam had always been a risk taker. She’d loved him once, hated him briefly, then figured to hell with it and dealt with her mistakes. With her mistakes.

They’d been strangers, for the most part, after the divorce. He’d transferred to Orlando, but returned to Miami sixteen months ago, because his roots were here, he’d said.

She understood roots. Hers were mostly here, too. In any case, she hadn’t hated him by then.

“Doctor Santino?”

Her thirty seconds were up. Adam was dead. She couldn’t make him undead by standing outside the emergency room, ignoring the injured while a host of memories swamped her.

“I’m really sorry, Adam.” Head tipped back, she spoke to the night sky. Then shut down and fixed her attention on the living.

“ARE YOU AWAKE, TAL?” DON Drake’s voice hacked rudely into Stephen Talbot’s dream.

“Go away,” Tal said into the phone. “I’m still working the Demorno case.”

“You’re done enough to be back in Miami, so listen up. I got a call from Lieutenant Morse in fraud.”

Tal tried to prop his eyes open. When that failed, he rolled onto his back and let the watery light outside play against his lids. “You’ve got about ten seconds before my brain shuts down. This is the first time I’ve seen a bed in three days.”

“Tyler’s dead,” his captain growled.

That worked. He went up on one elbow. “Adam Tyler?”

“You got it. He was shot late tonight, died in the E.R.”

Tal swung his feet to the floor. “Eden Bay?”

“You’re two for two. He went to his ex for help—or was taken there. Details are sketchy. McGraw’s on his way over to firm up what he can, but since homicide and fraud are more or less cooperating on the Perine investigation, I want a rep there, too. Tyler was a cop, Tal. He was one of us. I know you’re familiar with the case he was working on, even if you weren’t directly involved. I want that shooter nailed. Tyler was your friend, so I’m thinking you’ll want the same thing.”

Tal’s sleep-deprived mind resisted the attempt to shove it into line. When had he and Adam talked last? Seven, maybe eight days ago, and only briefly then. Adam had called him in Tampa.

“He said he had a line on Orlando Perine.”

“Had a hook in the bastard’s mouth, near as I can tell.” Drake gave a grunt. “Grill McGraw, see what he knows, but don’t count on him giving you straight answers. You know how the fraud boys are. Vultures over a rotting carcass.”

Standing, Tal bulldozed the last of the grogginess from his brain. His old academy friend was dead. He’d died at Eden Bay Hospital. Adam’s ex-wife worked at Eden Bay. Had she seen him, spoken to him? Hell, had she watched him die?

With the light off and the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, he located his jeans. “Adam was working with an informant last week,” he said. “Some guy who wanted out. Didn’t get a name.”

“He didn’t, or you didn’t?”

“Both. He called the guy Falcon.”

Dragging a T-shirt over his head, Tal searched for boots, sneakers, shoes—anything wearable. He found a pair of black hikers on the closet floor and, holding his keys in his mouth, laced them on.

“You know Tyler’s ex, don’t you?” the captain asked.

Tal grabbed a jacket. “We’ve met.”

“Use it. Tyler was a good cop, and homicide’s our business. We call the shots. Fraud’s on the sidelines here. Make sure McGraw understands that.”

Tal really didn’t care what McGraw understood. Adam had been his friend. Whether officially or unofficially, this was his case now.

“Heading out,” he said and tossed the handset aside.

Adam Tyler was dead. And the man responsible was going to pay.

“YOU CAN’T OUTRUN THE TRUTH, Ms. Santino. Someone shot your ex-husband. Someone who works for Orlando Perine, aka the slimiest scumbag in the Sunshine State.”

Gene McGraw enunciated the last part of his statement as if speaking to a five-year-old child. Not the best approach, in Maya’s opinion, but then if the rumors she’d heard about him had any merit, he wasn’t the most tactful cop in the fraud division. He certainly wasn’t the most incisive.

Three hours had passed since the first ambulance had pulled in. She’d lost count of how many patients she’d treated—which was just as well, since counting meant thinking, and thinking would lead her straight to Adam. Not that she could avoid that destination indefinitely. Detective McGraw was dragging her there despite the crush of activity around them.

Bumping him back, Maya palpated the ribs of a man groaning on a gurney outside an overflowing treatment room.

“Ms. Santino…”

She turned from the patient. “You don’t seem to be getting it, Detective McGraw. I haven’t got time for a cross-examination right now. Although it continues to escape your notice, we’re a bit busy here.”

“So the fact that your ex-husband’s been murdered doesn’t mean diddly to you?” He hitched a testy shoulder as a pair of paramedics elbowed past.

Appearance-wise, McGraw reminded Maya of a shaggy blond Columbo. In terms of attitude, however, the word caveman sprang to mind. Or perhaps more aptly, her cousin Diego, who she swore was a throwback to one of her mother’s nastier Andalusian ancestors.

“Believe me, Detective, I’d give a great deal to be able to reverse time and bring Adam back, but I can’t do that, and unless you know some secret science, neither can you. What I can do is help the people in the here and now. Once the last patient is treated, I’ll be more than happy to answer any question you want to throw at me. Until then, the machine in the doctor’s lounge has better coffee than the cafeteria. It’s also free.”

Tipping her lips into a quick smile, she sidestepped his arm and was out of range before he could object.

“Guess you told him, huh?”

Maya had her palm on the next treatment-room door when another man’s voice reached her. She turned to meet Stephen Talbot’s cool gray eyes. “I’m kinda busy here, Tal. Questions will have to wait.”

“What about emotions?”

“Same answer.” Frustration rose, coupled with something she knew better than to pinpoint. “Don’t push, okay? I might bite, and that’s not how I want to react. Adam’s gone. I’m making myself accept the truth, but I can’t—I won’t—let down someone whose life I might be able to save because of it. Any chance of any cop in Miami grasping that concept tonight?”

Tal raised his hands. “Message received, Dr. Santino. I’ll wait in the lounge.”

She tried very hard not to notice how tall he was or how incredibly, well, male, she supposed. How sexy. It felt wrong to be having thoughts like that. It definitely seemed inappropriate.

“Dr. Santino!”

With her eyes still on Tal, Maya pushed the door. “I’m here, Jamie. I’ve got a dozen more patients to see, Lieutenant, and that number doesn’t include any new arrivals. You could be waiting for quite some time.”

He ignored the stream of people rushing past. “Better waiting than lying on one of your tables. Do what you have to, Maya. I’ll handle McGraw.”

Great, she reflected, pushing through the door. Except that McGraw wasn’t the problem.

THE MAN CALLING HIMSELF Falcon crouched under a palm tree behind a lilac bush and watched time crawl by. He was afraid to leave his hiding place, terrified that Adam Tyler hadn’t blocked the shooter’s view, after all.

But no, he had to believe he was still a man of mystery in his boss’s eyes. A wanted, hunted man, but still an unknown commodity.

What would the big man do now? Obvious answer, he’d go for the last person Tyler had spoken to. The doctor who just happened to be his ex-wife. Yeah, that’s what he’d do, all right. And if Tyler had talked, if he’d told her…

Falcon began to hyperventilate. The woman wasn’t a cop, wasn’t trained. A little pain, and she’d crack, like the fatal egg he’d laid today.

He had to run, get away. Let Tyler’s ex die. Beautiful she might be, but beauty wouldn’t help her, couldn’t save her.

Giddy laughter swelled as he regarded the silhouette of the hospital before him. The woman was as dead as her ex-husband.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter Two

“Well, well. If it isn’t Drake’s go-to guy, hanging out in the E.R. at one of Miami’s top three hospitals. Wish I thought you were here because you’d been shot. However, since you appear to be walking upright, looks like I’m out of luck.”

Tal didn’t bother to turn or even look up as Gene McGraw strode into the lounge. He wouldn’t have made such a blustery entrance if there’d been other people around, but for the moment they were alone.

McGraw came to stand so close that his chest almost bumped Tal’s arm. “You’re looking a little unkempt, Lieutenant. Is this the appearance du jour of your homicide cronies up in Tampa?”

Raising a mug to his mouth, Tal turned. “You can’t goad me, Gene. You don’t matter enough at the moment.”

“Oh, that’s right. You and Tyler were pals, weren’t you? Started out together on the street. Quick series of high-profile busts, and it was on to vice. Then a parting of the ways. Butch went to fraud, Sundance to homicide.”

One thing McGraw seldom did was stir Tal’s temper. God knew he had one. It simply couldn’t be bothered squaring off with an overinflated jackass.

“Adam’s dead, Gene. He was shot from behind with a nine-millimeter handgun. You worked with Tyler, so you can be here. But this is a homicide investigation.”

Now McGraw did knock his thick chest into Tal’s arm, just hard enough to slosh coffee onto the floor. He stuck a finger out for emphasis. “This, Lieutenant, is your captain yodeling his swan song and you vying for his job. Or maybe you want to bypass captain and shoot straight to the next level. Cop on a rocket to the gold stars.” He flicked at the shaggy ends of Tal’s hair. “Gonna have to tidy up some, though. Can’t run a department looking like a back-alley gypsy.”

Tal held his stare at close range for several seconds. “Still a homicide investigation, McGraw.”

The detective’s torso bulged. “You listen to me, you—’

“Oh, cool. A hormonal free-for-all. Can I watch?” Maya breezed into the room and went straight to the refrigerator.

Tal admired her savvy entrance—to say nothing of her other assets. Like the thick, coffee-colored hair she wore clipped back from the most striking face he’d ever seen. It never failed to amaze him just how jaw-dropping her features were. The woman very simply commanded attention. He should know. She’d commanded his for seven years.

He knew McGraw missed the glitter in her bluer than blue eyes when the burly detective planted intimidating hands on the counter and leaned toward her. “If you don’t mind, Ms. Santori, I’ll ask the questions. You only have to answer.”

“It’s Santino, and we did this dance earlier.”

“Let’s do it again. Be concise, and we’ll be finished before you know it.”

After a slight hesitation, her lips quirked. Not the best sign in Tal’s opinion. “As you wish, Detective. I’ll give you two minutes.”

McGraw glanced at Tal, who shrugged and rested his butt on the table across the room. He opened with a gruff, “Did your husband—?”

“Ex-husband.”

McGraw’s features tightened. “Did your ex-husband,” he repeated, “mention any names before he died?”

“Yes.”

The detective glowered. “Well?”

“You said concise answers.”

He pushed up to his full height of six feet four inches. “Whose name did he mention?”

“Tal’s.”

“Why was that?”

“Adam wanted him to have his Shelby Mustang.”

Tal’s eyes narrowed, but beyond that he didn’t react.

“That’s it?” McGraw demanded.

She smiled vaguely, as if at some private joke. “Adam and Tal rebuilt that car. Adam loved it. His brother’s been involved in four traffic accidents over the past year. You don’t leave treasure to a fool.”

“No editorials necessary, Ms. Santino. Were there any other names?”

“He wanted his sister to take over his investments and for me to have his condo.”

“Did he—?”

“Say anything unusual or extraordinary?” Anger was creeping in, but only to her voice. She kept those remarkable features schooled and her body, also remarkable, relaxed. “That would depend on your definition of the words. He said he’d tell my mother I was doing well. She died seven years ago.” She capped her juice bottle, glanced at the wall clock. “Tempus fugit, Detective. Your two minutes are up.” Reaching into the pocket of her lab coat, she produced a set of keys. “Yours,” she said and tossed them to Tal.

He caught them left-handed and without taking his eyes off her.

McGraw reached the door first. “Would you recognize Orlando Perine if you saw him?”

Her brows went up. “As a matter of fact, I would.”

“Did Tyler show you a picture?”

“No.”

“Then how…?”

At a subtle head motion from Tal, she relented. “We had a board meeting last night to discuss the distribution of funds from a number of local businesses. The largest donation, over five hundred thousand dollars, came from Delgato Enterprises. If you don’t know it, Delgato is the company president’s mother’s name. As I’m sure you do know, the company president is Orlando Perine.”

“ARE YOU LEAVING?” JAMIE tried to respike her hair, which had wilted badly after six hours of nonstop action.

Maya tried—and failed—to focus her bleary eyes. “Yeah, definitely leaving. All the major traumas have been dealt with. Well, sort of dealt with.”

Slumped against the locker-room wall, Jamie frowned. “Does the ‘sort of’ refer to your husband’s death?”

“Ex-husband, and only partly. I’m still shell-shocked there. I think it has more to do with the police presence.” Specifically, Tal’s, but no way would she admit that out loud.

While Maya had half expected him to show tonight, after four years of not seeing him, the emotional punch had surprised her. Truthfully, it had blindsided her. Like watching Adam die…

“So, who was the cop?” Jamie gave her fingernails a casual inspection. “Not tall, dark and gorgeous—he’s out of my league. I mean the big one who looked like a rumpled golden retriever.”

“Gene McGraw. They call him Quick Draw, like the cartoon horse.” She slipped off her work shoes and stepped into a pair of red heels. “This McGraw’s more of a horse’s ass, but I’m told he gets the job done.”

“Is he married?”

“Are you serious?”

“Hey, twice divorced here, from bigger asses than your horse cop could ever be.”

“You’re a masochist, but I didn’t see a wedding ring.” Pulling on a light jacket over her jeans and tank, Maya closed her locker. “I want fresh air, a soft bed and no more cop questions. I figure if I’m lucky, I might get one of those things.”

“Wait.” Jamie caught her sleeve. “I want to tell you how sorry I am about Adam. I talked to him last spring, when he came in with a wounded suspect. I think he cared about you. A lot.”

Because she knew her usually cynical friend meant well, Maya smiled. “Thanks. Don’t let Driscoll bully you into double shifting.”

She made it through the door this time, snagged an apple from the lounge and made her way along the maze of hallways to the staff exit.

Adam’s face was in her mind. How could it not be? Then Tal’s appeared over it, and she whooshed out a breath.

Did visualizing Tal above the man she’d married, divorced and watched die tonight make her a monster?

Did she want to answer that question?

“Not until my brain defogs,” she said to the air.

Physicians were supposed to be compassionate, caring people. She had that covered. But what about selfless and forgiving? What about honest?

To block thought—and she desperately wanted to do that—she slipped her earbuds in and scanned her iPod for David Bowie.

Night had begun to fracture as dawn approached. Slivers of orange and red floated over a shimmering horizon.

They’d gotten married on the beach, she recalled. She’d let her mother arrange everything, from the rehearsal to the reception. She’d even let her set the larger-than-life guest list. She shouldn’t have, but she’d known her mother was dying, and she’d wanted to indulge her in every possible way, right down to rushing into marriage with the wrong man.

At least her mother had wanted to see her married and happy, unlike her father, who’d ditched them both before Maya’s fourth birthday in favor of—Well, twenty-six years later, that was still an open question. No one really knew what he’d wanted or where he’d gone.

Her uncles blamed his leaving on a pretty young accountant he’d met in Jamaica. Cousin Diego insisted he had a second family stashed away in Tennessee, but that was more likely Diego’s own twisted fantasy. Her mother maintained he’d simply needed space.

The apple turned to mush in her mouth. Maya dropped the uneaten half in a trash can, breathed in the still-humid air and told herself it didn’t matter why her father had taken off. It was the act that counted, and his leaving had hurt her mother far more than it had her.

Rooting through her shoulder bag, she located her keys. Tal would want to talk to her at some point. The thought came out of nowhere and brought a fatalistic “Damn” to her lips. Her avoidance layer was wearing extremely thin.

High above, palm fronds rustled. The shadows that lingered lengthened and shifted. The scent of verbena swirled around her. Stars still twinkled overhead, but the quarter moon was waning.

Maya located her car, then caught a sound much closer to the ground than the palm fronds.

She snapped her head to the right. For a woman who’d lived in Miami most of her life, it was an automatic response. Big-city girl, big-time guard.

For a moment there was nothing; then she caught a crunch of pebbles to her left. The black blur sprang at her before she could turn. It hit her hard and tackled her to the side of a large truck.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs. Her head slammed against the window; her shoulder against the metal frame.

Her assailant was bigger than her, Maya noted. Bigger, heavier and with momentum on his side.

But she’d lived with a cop; she knew how to evade the hand that tried to wrap around her throat.

Using her heel, she spiked his instep. Then she shoved her knee into his groin. She heard a rough hitch of breath and recognized the pain beneath it.

He slapped her back with his arm, and this time when her head hit, stars glittered.

She shook it off, had to. If she didn’t, he’d catch her with the next blow. Keys, she thought and, twisting sideways, freed her right hand.

She heard a snarl as he attempted to pin her. She hadn’t spied a weapon yet, but it would be a moot point if he got his fingers around her throat.

In the back of her mind, Maya registered a beam of light. It made him hesitate. It got him looking.

It gave her a chance.

He stopped her from stabbing his throat with her keys at the last second but forgot about the larger threat. While they wrestled, she rammed her knee full force between his legs.

He released her, with a curse, muffled by the black balaclava over his face.

Another light pierced the darkness. Swearing, he clutched his crotch. Then he dropped back, darted a look in both directions and bolted.

Ignoring the pain in her head and shoulder, Maya shoved away from the truck and ran in the opposite direction.

She grabbed her cell phone from her bag. Should she call 911 or Tal? After a quick debate, she went with the preferred option.

Did it even ring before he answered?

“Tal?”

“Stop running, Maya.”

“What? How do you know…?” With the phone pressed to her ear, and still heading for the hospital, she swung in a circle. “Where are you?”

The collision brought her up short. If his reflexes hadn’t been a split second quicker than hers, she’d have kneed him dead center.

“Right behind you,” Tal said from the depths of a long shadow. The hands that trapped her arms held her away from him just far enough to avoid injury. “You have really good aim, Dr. Santino.”

She exhaled on a shaky curse. “You have even better timing, Lieutenant Talbot.” Then she whirled. “Did you see him? The guy in the balaclava? He pushed me into the side of that truck.”

Tal followed her gaze and shook his head. “All I saw was you running across the lot.”

“Which I was doing because some thug dressed in black tried to have a football scrum with me.” As her heart rate slowed, she picked out the booth near the entrance. “And, of course, Eddie’s on a break.”

“Eddie being the parking attendant?” Tal seemed more interested in scanning the lot than in finding the missing man.

Maya worked on uncoiling the tension knots in her throat, an easy feat in theory, not quite so simple in practice, with Tal’s fingers still curled around her arms.

“I’m okay.” She gave a gentle pull. “Nothing but a headache and a few bruises. My wannabe linebacker’s probably in more pain right now than I am.”

Tal’s lips curved, though his eyes continued to probe the shadows. “Adam teach you how to kick?”

“Sorry to say it was my cousin Diego.”

“The one with the speech impediment?”

“That’s my cousin Jesus. Diego opens beer bottles by breaking their little glass necks and drinking from the splintered end. Shows how tough he is.” She managed a smile. “You can stop searching. The guy’s long gone. He didn’t get my purse or my medical bag. And don’t look at me like that, because if you think he was trying to push me into the truck, I promise you, he wasn’t.”

“I know.”

“I thought you might. Damn.” She let her head fall back. “All things considered, this has been a really pissy night. You’re going to tell me the attack was connected to Adam, aren’t you?”

The gray eyes that returned to her face revealed nothing—which was so typically Tal, she didn’t even bother to be irritated. “That’s the part I wasn’t going to tell you.”

He smelled really good. Maya had no idea why she noticed that, but there it was, together with his very dark, very long hair; a two-day growth of stubble; and the kind of lean, hollowed-out features that made females from nineteen to ninety hot, flustered and more than a little tingly inside.

Thankfully, experience had taught her how to offset desire. That plus an overdose of fear.

She gave Tal’s wrists a light tap. “Let go, Lieutenant. I’m not on the verge of collapse. Might sway a little after everything that’s happened today, but we’ve all been there, right?”

“Are you babbling?”

“Not really.” She resisted an urge to brush at his hair. “Babbling’s an avoidance technique I never quite mastered. What I’m doing is stalling.” Glancing away, she sighed, “What was Adam doing, Tal? What was he into that got him killed and me attacked? All I know is that it involves Orlando Perine.”

“A man whose company just donated five hundred K to your hospital fund.”

“Good PR for a straight corporate mogul, closer to blood money if McGraw’s take on him is right,” she noted.

“It is.”

She blew out a long breath. “Anything else I should know?”

“One thing.” Tal kept his eyes steady on hers. “Perine got married two weeks ago. Quietly and with only three people in attendance—the bride’s mother, her brother and her stepfather, who just happens to be our deputy chief of police.”

Chapter Three

He took her to a diner out on a disused two-lane highway that wound inland from the coast. Maya was so preoccupied, she barely noticed the beautiful sunrise, let alone the fifties-style Airstream structure.

Orlando Perine’s stepfather-in-law was the deputy police chief. If the situation hadn’t been so absurd, she would have laughed. She almost did, anyway, but that was either borderline hysteria or a brain so tired, it could no longer function. Since her eyes felt gritty and unfocused, she went with the latter.

A bell above the diner door jingled when Tal opened it. She smelled pancakes and, thank God, coffee as she preceded him inside.

“Okay, I’ll accept that I’m not dreaming, though I was really hoping that would be the case here. Adam’s gone, I’m in danger and Orlando Perine’s not entirely straight. I know that sounds clinical, Tal, but this really doesn’t want to sink in for me.”

“Breathe deep enough, long enough, and it will,” he replied.

“So you, what, infuse your resistant right hemisphere with so much oxygen that the vaguely surreal mutates into harsh reality? And we wonder why some people turn to drugs.”

“Good thing you’re not some people.”

“Always the flatterer. But I wouldn’t say no to a hit of caffeine.”

As she spoke, Maya finally noticed the retro booths, the long counter with its row of red swivel stools and the scattering of pink flamingo napkin holders.

Tal steered her toward a table in the back.

The counterman came over, filled two coffee cups without asking and winked at Tal. “Better than your usual companion, Lieutenant. This one’s a pinup.” He took an appreciative sniff. “Smells like tropical spice.”

After a hectic night in the E.R., Maya embraced the compliment. With her chin propped on her fist, she arched a brow at Tal. “Okay, what’s the story, Lieutenant? You didn’t bring me here so we could eat a healthy breakfast, and you’ve already dropped your bombshell. What’s left that falls within the parameters of cop facts a civilian can be told?”

“Not a bad question for someone who’s been up more than twenty-four hours.”

“Adrenaline’ll do that.” She scanned the diner, her eyes straying to the counterman, who was holding court by the stools. “What did your friend over there mean by ‘better than your usual companion’?”

A smile grazed Tal’s lips. “Caught that, huh? He meant Nate Hammond. You’ve met him. Grizzled, crusty, cantankerous. Short on words, long on experience. He worked vice and fraud in his day. Captain in both departments. He was offered a promotion but decided he’d rather retire. Überstress versus a fishing pole. We do coffee stops and poker when we can.”

A picture formed in Maya’s head of a no-nonsense cop with a whiskey-and-cigarette voice and the occasional, if you looked really close, twinkle in his eyes.

“He used to come to blackjack nights when Adam and I lived in North Miami. Carried a battered red thermos of whiskey masquerading as iced tea.”

“Only when he was off duty, and there was no masquerade. He just didn’t want to spring for a flask.”

Leaning forward on her arms, she said, “Talk to me, Tal. Tell me what’s going on, what happened and why. If that guy in the parking lot attacked me because of Adam, I deserve an answer, and screw your cop rules.”

Under scrutiny from Tal’s gray eyes, she had to work to keep her features composed and her body language unrevealing. If she let her gaze stray to his mouth, even for a moment, she’d want to grab him and kiss him. After all these years, she’d have thought the urge would be gone, but surprisingly it wasn’t. She wanted him as much now as she had back, well, back in another time.

“Sure you’re up for this?” Tal asked.

“I have to be, don’t I?” She drew circles on the table. “I don’t want Adam to be dead, Tal. At my angriest, I never wanted that. I’m not sure…or, well, maybe I am. We shouldn’t have gotten married. But we did. Things happened, and we split. I figure better our mistake than my parents’.”

Something flickered in Tal’s eyes. Understanding? Empathy? Desire?

He studied her, half-lidded. “Do you remember your father?”

This wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned their conversation going. But then, life was all about twists and turns and faded lines. “He left when I was three. In the summer, I think. I only have a vague memory of his face. My mother tossed all his pictures. Actually, she burned them, but that’s the Latin temperament for you. Exorcise the mad any way you can.” She selected a peach muffin from the basket the counterman had placed on their table, and spooned fresh marmalade on top. “I didn’t really know him, so it wasn’t as sad as it could have been.”

“You’ve never heard from him?”

She shook her head. “Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he isn’t. I don’t imagine I’ll ever know.”

Tal drank his coffee, continued to unsettle her with his cool gray stare. “Life tends to surprise, Maya. He could show up at that charity volleyball game you’re playing on Sunday.”

“Heard about that, huh?” Why wasn’t she surprised? “Eden Bay vs. General. Jamie’s our coach, but the smart money’s on General. Do you know Jamie?”

“Tall woman, buzz-cut hair, has a wild kid going through a rebellious biker phase. I’ve seen them at the station.”

“Renita’s a handful.”

“Unlike you at that age.”

Maya laughed and felt better. “I was two handfuls, because I happened to be crazy about the high school bad boy.”

“You liked the bad boy, and yet you married Adam. Not sure what that says about you, Maya.”

“I think it says I’ve changed. Kids grow up. In fact, my bad boy’s a loan officer now. Drives a Volvo. And Adam…” Her eyes locked on his. “Tal, why is Adam dead?”

She knew he was weighing his answer. “Adam made a deal, with one of Perine’s men,” he finally said.

“What kind of deal?”

“For information, facts and figures, incriminating evidence.”

“Pertaining to?”

“Real estate fraud, investment fraud, development fraud, counterfeiting.”

“Okay, I get the fraud part, that’s why Adam was after him. But you must have known or at least suspected he might also be a murderer.”

“Homicide and fraud were cooperating on the investigation.”

“Big fish, small pond,” Maya recalled. At Tal’s arched brow, she opened her mind to the full horrible memory. “Adam said that just before he died. I forgot about it, or maybe I buried it.”

“Reverse the adjectives and you’ve got McGraw.” Tal stroked her inner wrist. “I know this is hard for you, Maya, but you’ll have to go through it when you give your statement anyway.”

“I know. He said I shouldn’t trust anyone, anywhere.” A smile stole across her lips. “Considering the deputy chief connection, he was probably right. He didn’t say much else, really, just told me to tell you to seal the deal. Guess that means you’re the only person I can trust, huh?”

“Guess so.”

She wanted him to touch her again. When he didn’t, she asked, “What was McGraw’s status relative to Adam’s?”

“Adam was in charge.”

“And now?”

“It’s a homicide. Pushes McGraw even farther down the authority ladder.”

“I can’t see that sitting well. Who’s heading the investigation now?”

“Drake’s still pulling files, juggling.”

“Do you have any idea who Perine’s triggerman is?”

He glanced at the surrounding tables, all occupied by diners.

“It can wait,” Maya said when Tal brought his gaze back. “Going back to the father thing, I know you have some issues there yourself.” Her eyes danced. “I love that word, don’t you? No one has problems anymore. It’s all about issues.” She fingered her long pendant. “It’s about memories, too, isn’t it? Not the best for either of us, it seems.”

“Makes us simpatico,” he said, with an odd tone in his voice. Sarcasm? Bitterness? Regret? “Could be that’s what triggered Adam’s jealousy.”

“Oh, good. Guilt.” Maya smiled. “Rewind to Orlando Perine.” Cognizant of the people beside them, she lowered her voice. “I talked to the M.E. last night, during a lull. He extracted two bullets from Adam’s body. Will those bullets tell you anything about the killer?”

Tal ran a finger along her arm, from her wrist to her elbow, and drew a shiver. “They already have.”

Okay. She should withdraw. Now. Ignore the shiver in her belly and send him a message. Instead, she arched a brow. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Could be.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like being the bearer of bad news.”

“And that is?”

“The gun used to murder Adam was also used to murder two other people. One of them was an investment broker named Gund.”

Despite the chill that feathered down her spine, Maya managed a calm, “And the other?”

“Was the person who found him. Apparently, Gund wasn’t quite dead when the finder got there.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“It’s why I came back to the hospital, Maya.” Now he trapped her fingers in his hands. “Fraud wasn’t as cooperative about the Perine investigation as we were led to believe. We weren’t given the connection.”

“Nice of them to finally share. Ah, about this person who found Gund not quite dead—?”

“Her name was Ellen Latimer. She’d been driving taxis for twenty years. No work-related assaults, only a handful of minor accidents, no injuries. According to the file Captain Drake managed to access last night, she was killed in her taxi less than three hours after Gund was pronounced dead. Someone shot her in the back of the head.”

A FULL TWELVE HOURS AFTER driving Maya to her South Miami home, Tal continued to curse himself.

He should have waited in the hospital lounge, but the autopsy report had been rushed through and the results e-mailed to his captain. Drake had insisted he return to the station to examine the report and go over the file he’d strong-armed away from fraud. One look inside, and Tal had floored it back to Eden Bay.

He’d tried to call Maya en route, but with the E.R. in an uproar, getting through had been impossible.

He’d missed her by five minutes. Five. And in those minutes, one of Perine’s men, possibly the one who’d killed Adam, had jumped her. Good thing for her, she knew how to knee a man.

Now Tal was in his captain’s office, filling him in on the file.

“Did McGraw know about the taxi driver?” he asked.

“Don’t know how much anyone other than Adam was really in the loop.”

Though he was rereading the report, Tal’s mind remained on Maya. “You’ve got guys on her, right?”

Drake jabbed his computer keyboard. “She’s safe. I didn’t send rookies to guard her. I’m sorry, but I can’t spare you for protection detail. Besides, you’re the one who told me she wouldn’t want a cop camping out in her living room.”

She wouldn’t want to stop living her life, either, and that, Tal reflected, was where the real problem resided.

“She a good doctor?” Drake asked.

Tal half smiled. “Top of her class.”

“Florida State?”

“With a premed at Yale.”

“Impressive.” Drake leaned back in his chair. “Is she as pretty as I’ve heard?”

“Depends what you’ve heard.”

“The word stunning has come up. Knockout. Killer body.” At Tal’s slanted look, he let out a heavy breath. “I know, we’ve got an unholy mess on our hands with the deputy chief, with Tyler, with Perine.”

“We’ve also got two victims we didn’t know about until last night.”

“Those homicides occurred outside our jurisdiction. Outside fraud’s as well, but we’ll assume they had some kind of deal going there.”

Tal drained the coffee he’d poured earlier. For the moment, he had no choice. He had to trust the men Drake had put on Maya. She lived in a secure condominium complex. Good alarm, decent neighbors, solid cops. She’d be safe. He hoped.

His cell phone beeped as he was going through the report for a third time. He regarded the screen, smiled faintly at the name.

“Hey, Nate. What’s up?”

The older cop’s voice sounded more gravelly than usual. “Heard you boys have a problem.”

“You could say that.”

“You back in Miami for good?”

“Until the investigation’s done.”

In the background, Drake made a rough sound. “Tell Hammond to haul his ass down to central and see what he can shake loose from his old comrades. My gut says they’re still withholding.”

“Heard that,” Nate remarked. “My advice would be to lean on McGraw. Let him think he’s got a shot at moving up to homicide.”

“Way ahead of you there.” Tal started for the door. “McGraw’s on his way over. Means I’m out of here. Anything useful for us in terms of Perine?”

“For the moment, only a keen ear and a full thermos. Come on over when you get a chance. We’ll compare notes. Off the record, of course.”

Another beep on Tal’s cell phone indicated a second incoming call. This one from Maya.

“Hang on, Nate.” He switched lines. “Thought you’d be sleeping, Doc.”

“I was. It came to me at the end of a dream.”

“What did?”

“The guy’s face.”

Tal angled away from the surrounding noise. “The one who jumped you?”

“No. He was wearing a balaclava. The man I’m talking about was with Adam. I think. He disappeared so fast, I almost didn’t notice him. Look, can you come over? I’d come to you, except I seem to have left my car in the hospital parking lot.”

The wall clock read 6:30 p.m. “Give me twenty minutes,” he said. “I’ll use the siren.”

“Boys with toys. I’ll do a sketch while I wait. Uh, Tal, should I feed the dynamic duo in the bushes outside?”

“They’re fine. Keep your doors locked, Maya.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

He switched back to Nate as he shouldered the fire door open. “Gotta go, Nate. We’ll unload that thermos another time when I’m off duty.”

“You’re too pure, Lieutenant.”

“Only when it counts.”

“Hang on, Tal. I didn’t call to find myself a drinking partner. I was around that department for a lot of years. I saw stuff that’d make Drake’s fringe of hair knot up. Perine’s got people inside. That’s how he does it. Forget the deputy chief connection for now. I’m talking long-term, longtime snitches, on Perine’s payroll as well as the city’s.”

The suggestion didn’t surprise Tal so much as the whip of contempt in Nate’s voice.

“I take it you never found any specific evidence.”

“Got within an inch some days, but no, I never could pin the greaseball turncoats down. Like Perine, they always managed to ooze through the cracks at the last second. Look for those cracks, Tal. Get to them before the ooze does. Do that, and you’ll have your blue line to Perine. Won’t be a straight one, but crooked’s no problem for you.”

Tal shoved through the outer door and put on his sunglasses to cut the low glare. He tossed his jacket inside his truck. “How many do you figure and what divisions?”

“No idea. Fraud for sure, probably homicide. Vice? Hard to say. Internal affairs? Unlikely, but you never know. I’d count on a handful of uniforms, maybe more.”

Tal revved the engine, switched on the flashing lights. “I’m using the siren, Nate. It’s gonna get loud. Have you talked to Drake about this?”

“Talked to Tyler a couple times, and his captain once, but Drake, no.”

“Why?”

Nate made a rusty sound. “Don’t get me wrong. I like the guy. We squared off a time or two as captains, but that’s how it is. I trusted him when it mattered, and he came through.”

With a look in both directions and the siren blaring, Tal maneuvered through an intersection. “You might want to get to the point here.”

“Captains make decent money, but yours has five kids, and one of ’em’s autistic.”

“Nate…”

“Sneak a peek in his garage, Tal. Drive out to his place and take a good long look at Don Drake’s brand-new, fully loaded flatbed truck.”

Chapter Four

The sky over the ocean was on fire. Maya wanted to soak up the last of the summer rays, but there was little chance of that, with Jamie badgering her at full volume.

After five nonstop minutes, she simply reached out and set a hand across her friend’s mouth. “Enough, okay? I appreciate the gesture, Jamie, but Tal’s on his way over. That’ll make three cops in the immediate area.”

Jamie yanked Maya’s hand away. “We’re sitting on your balcony, facing a courtyard so much like the one in that movie about the photographer with the broken leg that it gives me the heebie-jeebies. How can you be flip?”

“I’m not being flip. And it was Rear Window.”

“Do I care about titles?” Jamie spread her fingers. “I see a flock of weirdos down there and a window directly across from yours, with the shades drawn.”

“That’s Mr. Ruiz’s place. He’s—”

“Busy hacking up his wife’s body? Phoning his female coconspirator? Polishing up his escape plan?”

Maya shot her an exasperated look. “Have you been stealing medication from the hospital? Mr. Ruiz is a night watchman at a large office complex. He sleeps during the day. See that big orange ball over there?” She pointed with her pencil. “That’s the sun. Work all night, sleep all day.”

“Maya, you were attacked early this morning in a public parking lot.”

“I know. I was there. Do you want a glass of lemonade?”

“I’d rather have rum.”

“Are you driving?”

“Knock-knock. I brought your car back. I’ll cab it home.”

Maya sat back. If there was a mental picture she didn’t need to draw right then, it involved taxis and their drivers. In this case, a female driver, murdered because she’d stopped to help a not-quite-dead man who’d pissed off his boss in a big and apparently fatal way.

Setting her sketchbook aside, she went to stand at the balcony rail.

“There were no palm trees in Rear Window,” she said over her shoulder. “It was also set in New York.”

Jamie huffed out a breath. “I get your point. This isn’t a movie. It’s real life. I still think you could give me a hint about what’s going on.”

“Are you kidding? A hint’s all I’ve been given so far.”

“Sex him.”

A laugh bubbled up. “Excuse me?”

“Use your body, Maya, your wiles, your brain if you have to, but get answers.”

“All very complimentary in its own warped way, but I’m a doctor, and Tal’s a cop. We’re not john and under-cover hooker here.”

“So you’re not curious?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but…Oh, crap, I give up. You’ll tell me what you want to when you want to. Just please tell me you’re still good to go for the game tomorrow. You’re the best setter I’ve got.”

Turning, Maya bumped a hip against the iron railing. “I’ll be there, Coach Hazell. Might be bringing a few official friends, but I won’t let you down.”

“I’ll settle for that.” Jamie craned her neck sideways. “Whose face are you drawing? It looks like your hot lieutenant’s.”

“You have a good memory to go with your nursing skills.” Maya lifted her own face to the setting sun. “Tal will be here any minute.”

“My cue to exit stage right. Look, don’t limit yourself, okay? You’ve got the bod. Use it. Knowledge is power. You can’t trust other people to keep you safe. The best protection comes from within. Not that there are any real guarantees…about anything or anyone.”

Maya heard the zip of Jamie’s shoulder bag, saw something glint in her peripheral vision. When she looked back, her friend was smiling. Over the top of the gun she’d just removed from her bag.

TAL’S POLICE RADIO GAVE a static-filled squawk. He reached down to engage.

“Busy here, Carlisle.”

“Aware of that, Talbot.” The female dispatcher matched his irritable tone. “Captain thought you’d like to know that a patrol found Tyler’s Mustang outside a waterfront warehouse. The Ricolini Brothers warehouse, to be exact. It’s on its way to be impounded.”

“Tell the tow guys that if they scratch it, they’ll want to avoid me for a few months.”

“It’s only a car, for Chrissake.”

“A classic car. Anything in the warehouse?”

“Yeah. Blood.”

“Adam’s?”

“That’s the consensus. We’ll know soon enough. I’ve got you en route to Dr. Maya Santino’s. Captain wants you to escort her to the station ASAP.”

“When I can.”

He switched off, worked his way through a clogged intersection.

He kept seeing Maya’s face, couldn’t get it out of his head. Should he feel guilty about that? Probably not. Should he worry about it? Absolutely.

Because any objection he raised was merely a front for the real reason he’d kept his distance all these years.

In the few hours of sleep he’d managed to catch earlier today, that reason had come back in an all-too-familiar rush of twisted images and distorted memories. Of his mother and his father, of shouting matches and tears, of objects being hurled, of doors being slammed.

Near the end, the doors gave a metallic clang, and the shouts gave way to a squeal of tires on rain-soaked pavement.

It was the same nightmare, always the same. Windshield wipers slapping louder and louder. His mother’s voice rising from a whisper to a cry as she reminded him that he’d only gotten half his genes from her. As she dragged him into the light and showed him the bruises…

Swearing, Tal shoved it away, concentrated on not killing anyone while he made a sharp left. Yes, Adam had been his friend, and, yes, there’d been problems between them. But guilt and friendship were merely excuses.

It was the bruises that mattered.

JAMIE HELD TIGHT TO THE gun, and to her conviction.

“Take it, Maya. It’s old, not much, hardly more than a prop, actually, but no creep who jumps you in the dark will know that.”

“Jamie, I’ve only been jumped by one creep in twenty-nine years.” Unless you counted her cousin Diego, who’d leapfrogged over her during a treasure hunt at his ninth birthday party. “I have cops watching me, I know self-defense and I don’t freak easily.”

“A little extra protection can’t hurt.’

“No guns, Jamie.”

Her friend blew out a breath. “Your daddy must have been a mule.”

Maya took the gun, unzipped Jamie’s bag and dropped it inside. “I’m fine with firearms in their place. That place just isn’t with me.”

“Some kind of stinging spray then. Will you at least carry that?”

“Mommies everywhere,” Maya murmured.

“What can I say?” Jamie hoisted her bag. “We worry.”

Maya walked her through the living room. “Speaking of worry, how’s your daughter?”

“She wants to be called Mask. Tell you anything?”

Maya told herself not to laugh. “Is there a reason?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Her therapist thinks I should enroll her in a twenty-four-week program. Great idea, until you look at the price tag. I reminded him that I’m a nurse, not a pro athlete.”

“Listen, Jamie. I don’t have kids, but I do have a little extra money. I could—”

Jamie cut her off sharply. “I don’t borrow from friends. It fuddles things up.” At a knock on the door, Maya sighed, checked the viewer, then opened to Tal. Before she could speak, her friend gave a long whistle.

“Wow. You really are a hottie, aren’t you, Lieutenant? Tall, dark and totally bootylicious.”

Maya hooked her fingers in Jamie’s waistband. “Roll up your tongue, Nurse Hazell, and say goodbye to the nice lieutenant.”

Jamie grimaced. “You really know how to butcher a moment, don’t you? Keep her safe, Lieutenant Talbot. Good E.R. doctors are hard to come by.”

Tal stood aside so she could make her exit, but remained on the threshold, with his shoulder resting on the door frame. “You look refreshed, Dr. Santino.”

“You don’t. Showered and changed, yes. Like a man who got more than three hours of sleep, no.”

“Two, but I’ll make up for it.” He stepped inside, looked around. “Tell me about your dream.”

She leaned against the closed door. “It wasn’t a dream so much as a flash of memory. I went outside to see how many patients still needed attention and saw them. Someone was shaking Adam. He stopped when he saw me and took off. There were a lot of shadows, Tal, and I was more concerned about Adam than the person with him.”

“But you saw his face.”

“Enough to sketch it. My mother was a painter. I didn’t inherit her talent, but I can draw passable features.” Including his, she reflected, far more often than she should. “My sketchbook’s on the balcony.”

She knew he was watching her. She felt his eyes on her back, on her bare arms and legs, on the ponytail, which she wore to combat the heat.

Without turning, she called back, “Stop looking at my butt, Tal. You’re—” she opted for one of Jamie’s words and a slow smile “—fuddling me.”

“No comment,” he murmured and unsnapped his shoulder holster.

When she faced him again, she took in his long dark hair; his jeans, which hugged in all the right places; and boots that had seen better days.

So who was looking now?

Retrieving her sketchbook, Maya flipped to the last page. Tal was so close on her heels, she would have crashed into him if she’d taken a single step back.

“Guess we’re staying out here.” She slapped the sketchbook against his chest before he could take the step she hadn’t. “I’m not ready for you, Tal. Not even close to ready.”

He held her in place with his eyes. It was a gift he’d always possessed and, in its own way, a powerful weapon where females were concerned, though she’d seen him stare down more than a few men.

In spite of herself, she couldn’t stop a laugh from climbing into her throat. “God, but you’re making this hard.”

“Why the defensive posture, Doc?” The ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he ran a light hand along her arm. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

She kept her hand on his chest. “I never wished anything bad for Adam.”

“I never thought you did. Neither did he.”

“I loved him. I think. In a college-student-meets-cop sort of way.” Something uncoiled inside her with the admission. “Well, that’s weird. I tell you something I should feel bad about, and I feel better instead.”

“We’re complex creatures, Maya.”

“You and me in particular, or humans in general?”

“Six of one.”

Her heart beat harder, louder, faster the longer he stared. She couldn’t drag her eyes from his mouth. More than anything right then, she wanted that mouth on hers. Out of nowhere it occurred to her that she was arching backward, over the rail, a dangerous position in more ways than one. Still, what was life without a little danger?

He wrapped his fingers around her nape. “Don’t worry, Doc. I won’t let you fall.”

Then he covered her mouth with his, and sent every emotion inside her over the edge.

THE SKETCHBOOK LANDED on the floor of the balcony, between them. Tal heard the thud as he held her face between his fingers and deepened the kiss.

He shouldn’t have done it. Signals flashed in his head. Back off. Fast. Do it. The warnings were similar to the ones Adam had issued to every man who’d seen her. To every man, like Tal, who’d wanted her.

He tasted her now with his tongue, thought of a rare and potent wine. The first sip drew him in. It deepened the hunger, which had been there since they’d met, fueled his desire and seduced him in a way even strong friendship couldn’t offset.

It surprised him a little that she kissed him back. He’d expected her to push him away, to put him off and tell him it couldn’t happen. Instead, her fingers tangled in his hair and held.

He angled his head in response, explored her mouth more thoroughly. Oh, yeah, definitely wine. Wild, forbidden, too tempting to resist. And Tal could resist a lot.

Only Maya had ever gotten past his formidable guard. Only Maya had the power to scare the living hell out of him.

Reason enough to stop kissing her, to back off and call it a mistake.

She slid her hands to his waist and drew his lower lip into her mouth before she rested her forehead against his.

The taste of her lingered. It took a huge effort to wrap his fingers around her upper arms, shield his expression and look into her eyes.

“You feel like you’re trespassing, don’t you?”

Her question surprised him. “Do I?”

“I think so. And you would have been once. But not now. Not for a very long time.”

“So why did you stop?”

She ran her finger over his lower lip, replaced it with her mouth. When she licked him, his brain, already overheated, turned to mush. “Pausing isn’t stopping.”

“Maya…”

The argument died. Later, when he was alone and half-sane, he’d be all over it, but for now, he simply wanted to cage his conscience and let the fantasy ride.

She kissed him this time, used her teeth, her lips, her tongue.

Greed set in, chased by hunger. He’d been hard before he touched her, and now she was touching him, running her hands over his jeans, frying every thought in his brain.

Blood pounded through him like a drum. He dragged her closer, heard her purr, felt her hips rub against him.

He’d have breathed if he could, but something other than air had gotten into his lungs. Something that punched through the snapping threads of his control.

Tal had no idea where things might have gone from there. However, drugged or not, he recognized the blast below them in an instant.

Maya tore her mouth free, whipped her eyes down. “Was that…?”

“Yeah, it was.” Shoving her behind him, Tal grabbed the backup from his waistband.

And searched the courtyard for the person who’d fired the gun.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I swear. I took the safety off, like so. But there was a pain in my wrist. Then, oh no, the gun, it dropped, and kaboom. It went off.”

Maya’s neighbor, the man with the drawn shades, appealed primarily to her, although his nervous eyes kept flitting to Tal.

“Please, Dr. Santino.” Carl Ruiz adopted an attitude of prayer. “Tell the officer I didn’t mean to do it.”

“It’s all right, Carl.” Maya attempted to calm him. “Lieutenant Talbot knows you work as a security guard.”

“For six months,” the man put in. “I hit my hand on the counter yesterday and hurt the bone. I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble….”

Thirty minutes and several reassurances later, Maya and Tal left the man’s apartment and made their way back to the courtyard.

The people who’d reacted to the gunshot had returned to their tasks and chores, leaving the area empty.

Maya turned a curious half circle as she walked. “Where are my bodyguards? Please say they’re not skulking around Mr. Ruiz’s place, because I promise you, that man is not on Orlando Perine’s payroll.”

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