“We’re not so different. We both try to keep people alive.”

Professionally, at least, she knew his words were true. But personally…Cade Tremaine would be shocked to discover just how far apart they were.

Cade moved closer to Shae, his head tilted intimately toward hers, and his voice went low and persuasive. “C’mon, Doc. What’s the harm?”

With new eyes she reassessed him, not as a doctor but as a female. He had a smoker’s voice, slightly raspy, with more than a hint of the South in it. Coupled with those penetrating jade eyes and rangy build, she didn’t doubt that he found it far too easy to persuade women to do just about anything he asked.

He reached for one of her hands, held it in his as his thumb skated over her knuckles. At the touch, she let her eyelids lower, her lips part.

“Tell me something,” Shae murmured throatily.

Although he hadn’t moved, somehow he seemed closer. “Hmm?”

“Does this little act of yours usually work?”

Truth or Lies
Kylie Brant

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KYLIE BRANT

lives in Iowa with her husband and children. Besides being a writer, this mother of five works full-time teaching learning-disabled students. Much of her free time is spent in her role as professional spectator at her kids’ sporting events.

An avid reader, Kylie enjoys stories of love, mystery and suspense—and she insists on happy endings! She claims she was inspired to write by all the wonderful authors she’s read over the years. Now most weekends and all summer she can be found at the computer, spinning her own tales of romance and happily-ever-afters.

She invites readers to check out her online read in the reading room at eHarlequin.com. Readers can write to Kylie at P.O. Box 231, Charles City, IA 50616, or e-mail her at kyliebrant@hotmail.com. Her Web site address is www.kyliebrant.com.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Prologue

The dim spill of light from the nearby street lamp barely disturbed the oppressive shadows deep in New Orleans’s City Park. Even the glow of the night’s half moon couldn’t penetrate the thick canopy of trees. Darkness held untold fears for some, but for others it provided a much-needed cover. Some business was best conducted far from the light of day.

“He’s late.” Detective Cade Tremaine checked his watch. “I thought you said he was dependable.”

“Freddie’s reliable as long as he hasn’t been shooting up or snorting.” Brian Hollister, Cade’s partner, shrugged. “If he’s using again, I can’t vouch for him.”

Scanning the area, Cade said, “We’ll give him a couple minutes.” He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of losing any more sleep. But the snitch represented a chance for a lead in a case that had been damn short of clues lately. And catching the dealer responsible for at least three deaths from overdoses was well worth the inconvenience.

He heard footsteps moments before a figure stepped out of the shadows. “Is that him?”

“Yeah.” Hollister straightened, waited for the man to get closer. “You must have us confused with one of your junkie bitches, Freddie. We don’t much like being kept waiting.” The words were accompanied by a slap alongside the man’s head.

Freddie flinched away. “Stuff came up, Hollister. You know how it goes.”

Cade shoved the snitch under the street lamp, noted the pinpoint pupils, the glassy stare. “He’s high,” he said with disgust. Releasing the man’s filthy shirt, he turned to his partner. “Let’s go. We’re wasting our time.”

“No, hold on,” the snitch said hastily. “You wanted information and I have some for ya.” He gave a look around as if they were in danger of being overheard and lowered his voice. “That guy you’re investigating? The one who’s putting pure stuff on the streets? I can get you in contact with someone who knows him.”

“Then start talking, Freddie, ’cause we’re ready to walk,” Hollister said impatiently.

“Okay, okay.” The man turned to the side, dug in his pocket. “I got his name written right here on this napkin. Not the dealer, but the guy I told ya about. I can tell ya where he hangs out, too.”

He’d finally managed to get Cade’s attention. Not that he was ready to believe a hopped-up junkie, but a name would give them a contact they didn’t have right now. Hollister stepped forward to snatch the creased napkin from Freddie, and while he unfolded it, Cade moved closer.

In the next moment, however, Freddie was backpedaling furiously, the words tumbling from his mouth. “Got you what you wanted, didn’t I? So pay up, guys, pay up.”

At first Cade thought the words were directed at them. Then he saw the glint of metal. “Gun!” Reacting instinctively, he reached for his own weapon. He’d barely cleared it from his holster when the first bullet hit him in the chest, the impact sending him stumbling backward. He squeezed off a couple of shots before the next two slugs hit him, knocked him to the ground.

After the first searing jolt there was no pain, only a cold numbness that seemed to spread from one internal organ to the next, shutting down physical functions. Distantly Cade was aware of more shots being fired, shouting, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel. He could only lie on the sidewalk, cheek pressed to its gritty surface. It took every ounce of his rapidly draining energy to drag his eyes open. He saw the stream of blood eddying out from him to join an ever-widening pool. Saw his partner’s body crumpled in a heap next to his.

Cade didn’t see his life flash before his eyes. Didn’t see a powerful white light that drew him deeper into its center. Death was a yawning black hole that sucked the life from his body bit by bit until there was finally only darkness.

Then there was nothing at all.

Chapter 1

Two months later

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen. Blood pressure is one-ten and dropping. His name is Jon LeFrenz.” The paramedics helped transfer the moaning patient from the ambulance cot to an emergency-room cart. They ran alongside as the Charity Hospital E.R. employees rolled it through East Hall to triage.

“Room four is open,” Dr. Shae O’Riley said to her colleagues. Then she addressed the closest paramedic. “How’re his sounds?”

“Lungs are clear. But we had trouble stopping the bleeding. That’s the third pressure dressing. We already gave him a unit of O negative. He’s lucid and responsive.”

Nodding, she said, “Okay, thanks.” She left the ambulance crew behind as the cart was rolled into the tiny trauma cubicle. The area was jammed with people and equipment. Drawing the curtain to separate the area into two separate compartments left barely enough room to move. “Okay, Jenna, type him and get a couple of units of blood ready.” The lab tech nodded, reached for the patient’s hand.

Shae looked up, saw the lines the ambulance crew had put in to replace fluids. Both IV bags were nearly empty. “Let’s get another couple of bags in him. How’s his blood pressure doing?”

The emergency room RN looked at the screen. “One hundred over sixty.”

Not dangerously low yet, but dropping. “Roll him to his side.” Shae leaned in and lifted the dressing used to staunch the bleeding on the abdomen. The bullet had torn through the flesh, leaving a relatively small entry. She looked up at Boyd DuBois, the emergency-room resident. “Is there an exit?”

He lifted the dressing on the man’s back and nodded. Shae moved around the cart and looked at the angry gaping hole, which was oozing sullenly. “Wessels and Lyndstrom still on duty in surgery?”

DuBois checked his watch. “I think so.”

Shae looked at the triage nurse next to her. “Could you give them another call, get someone down here for a consult?”

“I called as soon as we heard he was coming in.”

“But no one’s here yet, are they?”

The woman shrugged and headed to the phone on the wall. The consultation would be merely a formality. Virtually all gunshot wounds to the abdomen had to be explored.

Shae turned her attention back to stabilizing the patient. The paramedics had cut his blood-soaked T-shirt up the center, baring his chest. He was awake, his face sheened with sweat. No more than twenty, she guessed, although it was difficult to tell for sure with pain and shock twisting his surprisingly innocent features. Leaning down, she shone a flashlight into each eye, noting normal pupil reaction.

The patient turned his head from the light, raised his hand to knock the flashlight away. “Get that outta here.” The oxygen rebreather mask the paramedics had placed on him made his words difficult to make out, but his meaning was clear enough.

“You’re in Charity Hospital, Mr. LeFrenz, and we’re going to help you.” She put a stethoscope to his chest to check his sounds. “You will probably require surgery. Do you have any family you want us to call?”

“No,” he muttered, turning his head back toward her. His eyelids fluttered open and he stared fixedly at her. Then he reached up and dragged down the mask. “Must be alive. Ain’t no angels where I’m going.”

Shae pushed it back into place. “We’re stabilizing you now, and a surgeon will come to assess your condition.” As she spoke, she pressed lightly on the skin surrounding the wound, watching his face carefully for signs of increased pain. When he flinched and moaned loudly, she said to Boyd, “Slight swelling to the upper quadrant.” She probed the area a bit longer. The belly was hard, rigid, indicating possible internal bleeding. “Let’s do a DPL and see what’s going on in there.”

She stepped aside to allow the RN to prepare an area on the skin where they could insert the catheter. Moving back up to the patient’s head, she spoke evenly, pitching her voice above the man’s loud moaning. “Mr. LeFrenz, we’re going to do a test that will let us know the extent of the bleeding in your abdominal cavity. The discomfort will be minimal, but one of us will let you know what we’re doing every step of the way.”

“No! Just patch me up and let me go!” He’d pulled his mask down again to scream the words. Then he spewed a stream of obscenities as he rolled from side to side, grimacing in pain. Boyd made a grab at him, but not before one of his flailing arms had knocked Shae back a step.

With no more than a look she directed two of the staff to restrain the man. Preparing the plastic catheter, she performed the direct peritoneal lavage and withdrew the catheter, handing it to the RN. “Get that to the stat lab and have them do a cell count.” The woman nodded and exited. It was only then that Shae noticed the man leaning against the far wall.

Her first thought was that he was a family member. She immediately realized her mistake as second and third impressions followed on the heels of the first. She didn’t need the gold shield hanging around the man’s neck to identify his occupation. There was cop in his eyes, in the cold steady way he was regarding her.

“Detective Cade Tremaine,” he said by way of an introduction. “I need to talk to him. Is he lucid?”

“Pressure’s dropping, Doctor. Ninety-eight over sixty.”

Shae acknowledged the resident’s words with a quick nod, but never looked away from the detective. “He’s as lucid as anyone would be with a bullet in his belly. Did you put it there?” She wasn’t even certain where the note of censure had come from, but she heard it in her voice.

If it had any effect on him, it didn’t show in his expression. “Yes.” He brushed by her, took up a stance next to the patient. “Hello, Jonny.” The patient abruptly stopped struggling. Tremaine turned to look at Shae. “Does he need that mask on?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him that the man did. To tell him in no uncertain terms to get out of her trauma room and wait as long as it took for his little talk. But that urge sprang from the personal side of her, not the professional. So instead, she stepped in next to him, took out her stethoscope and listened to the patient’s breathing. It was shallow, but still even. Without a word, she reached up and pulled the man’s mask down.

“Sorry it took so long.” Jenna appeared around the edge of the curtain, holding two units of blood. “The lab was pretty backed up.”

Shae looked up at the monitor again. The pressure was still dropping. “Use a power infuser to transfuse him.” The device would warm the blood and deliver it far more rapidly than an ordinary infuser.

“You gonna keep protecting him, Jonny? What the hell for? You don’t see him here asking after your health, do you?”

The conversation between the detective and her patient diverted Shae’s attention as she flushed the wound of particles of fabric and dirt. There was no doubt in her mind which of the pair was the more dangerous. Tremaine’s six-foot-plus frame seemed overly spare, his unshaven angled face just shy of gaunt, as if he’d recently been through his own trauma. But the aura of quiet menace that radiated from him effectively quelled any sympathy his appearance might have elicited.

“I got nothing to say to you. Angel Eyes, get him away from me.” LeFrenz grasped her fingers.

Shae gave Boyd a sharp glance and the resident restrained the man again. The monitor beeped and her gaze flicked to the screen, noting that the pressure was hovering at ninety-six.

Tremaine shoved his face closer to the patient’s. “All you need to do is give me a name. No one has to know where it came from. That kid’s death is on your hands, LeFrenz.”

“Not my hands,” LeFrenz wheezed. His face twisted in pain and he cried out at Shae’s ministrations. “His choice…to take it…all at once.”

“But you’re the one who sold it to him.” The detective’s voice was unforgiving. “If you cooperate, I can arrange for your protection, but otherwise you’re going down for this kid’s death. I’ll bury you.”

“Doctor, I’ve got the labs.”

It took a moment longer than it should have for the lab tech’s voice to register, for Shae to turn away from the human drama unfolding before her. As she was looking over the results, Dr. Lyndstrom hurried into the room.

She looked up at the surgeon, then pointedly at her watch. “Busy up there?”

“We’re starting to stack them up, so don’t give me any grief. It’d be best if your guy could wait an hour or two.”

“I don’t think so.” Deliberately Shae shifted her attention from the detective’s hard persistent voice, LeFrenz’s moans interspersing his belligerent replies. Handing the results to the surgeon, she gave him a rundown of the case, ending with, “His count is high. There’s rebound tenderness in the upper quadrant and his BP is dropping, despite two transfusions. His liver may be bleeding.”

The surgeon’s muttered curse was drowned out by the RN’s voice. “Blood pressure’s ninety.”

Shae leaped back to the patient’s bedside, elbowing the detective out of the way. DuBois and Lyndstrom joined her, and the cubicle became a flurry of emergency maneuvers to save the patient from flat lining.

“Let’s get him upstairs.” Lyndstrom and Shae helped Boyd shove the cart out of the room, the RN running alongside with the IV stands and infuser.

“Wait a minute. Where are you taking him?” The detective jogged after them to the elevator.

“Surgery.” Shae switched her attention to the intern, Sara Gonzalez. “Stay with him for the duration, okay?” The woman nodded.

“LeFrenz.” Frustration laced the detective’s voice. “Dammit, LeFrenz, do the right thing.”

The elevator doors opened and the surgeon and intern stepped in, pushing the cart. The patient had gone silent, pale, his limbs shaking with shock. Shae threw up an arm to prevent the detective from following the patient even as the doors began to close. And when the man rounded on her angrily, she met his gaze with a steady one of her own.

“He’s unconscious. You aren’t going to get anything more from him right now.” She watched the man tuck away his frustration and fury with a control that looked as dangerous as it was deliberate. And when he turned the intensity of his focus on her, it was all she could do not to take a step back.

She had enough experience dealing with cops to last her a lifetime, but she’d never met one like this. The gold shield he displayed didn’t in any way mask his lethal air. “Is he going to make it?”

“Since I don’t have my crystal ball handy, I really couldn’t say.” Shae turned to walk away, but she didn’t get more than a step before a hard grip on her elbow spun her back around.

“In your professional opinion, Dr.—” his gaze dropped to her name tag before recapturing hers again “—O’Riley, what are his chances?”

Boyd DuBois passed them, turning to quiz Shae with raised brows. Aware that her reaction to the detective hadn’t gone unnoticed, she forced a neutral tone. “I’m sorry.” And she was. There was little she despised more than allowing her private life to splash over into the professional. “It’s been pretty wild today with the crash on Interstate 10.” Most of the victims of the pileup had been transported here, straining both emergency-room personnel and surgery.

“I heard about that.” His gaze never left hers. His eyes were an unusual shade of dark jade, and every bit as unyielding. She imagined his penetrating stare was used to great advantage during interrogations.

The observation wasn’t a comfortable one. Shae began walking toward the front desk, and Tremaine fell into step beside her. “I really can’t predict what LeFrenz’s outcome will be. He lost a lot of blood and it’s a good bet there’s still bleeding going on inside. His chances for surviving surgery depend on the path of the bullet and the extent of the internal damage.”

“How long before he’s out of surgery?”

Again she shrugged. Reaching the front desk, she sneaked a glance at her watch. Seven o’clock. Technically she was due to go off shift, but there were still reports to be dictated and paperwork to sign off on. “It could be four hours or more. It’s hard to tell.”

He gave a short nod, started to turn away. “I’ll be back then.”

“You’ll be wasting your time.” Shae didn’t know what made her say it. She was more than ready to part ways with the enigmatic detective. But she couldn’t shake the impression that he’d recently been ill. He possessed a runner’s body, taut and lean, but his bordered on gaunt. “No use losing sleep. From surgery, LeFrenz will go directly to a PACU—post-anesthetic-recovery unit. In all likelihood you won’t be able to speak to him until tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t worry.” It was clear from his tone that he’d misinterpreted the cause of her concern. “I’ll leave my rubber hose at home.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.” She made no effort to soften the bluntness of her words. “You look like one of the walking wounded. We can’t really spare an extra bed if you collapse during your all-night vigil.”

Oddly her tart remark brought an almost smile to his lips, a softened expression that was as arresting as it was fleeting. “Despite your underwhelming concern, I’ll be back in a few hours. Maybe I’ll see you then, Angel Eyes.” He sauntered away, leaving her to burn over his use of LeFrenz’s name for her.

Turning back to the desk, she snatched down the most recent patient’s chart, aware that DuBois was eyeing her.

“You know, that guy looks familiar.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a cop. They all look alike.”

Her attempt at humor fell flat. Boyd continued to stare in the direction of the double doors Tremaine had disappeared through. “No, I mean I think we worked on him not long ago.” The E.R. resident stared into space, as if searching his memory. “A month ago? No, more like two. Maybe it was when you were out on personal leave.”

She flipped over a page on the chart, continued to make notations as if uninterested. In actuality every nerve was on alert. It was far more comfortable to attend to the reason for Tremaine’s visit here two months ago than on the reason for her leave at the same time. “What’d he present with?”

DuBois had already given up trying to remember. He took down another chart and began to read through it. “I don’t recall. I wasn’t primary. Aren’t you supposed to be going off duty?”

“Pretty soon,” she answered vaguely. But it was another two hours before she’d finished with the charting and dictation. And even then she couldn’t force herself to head for the parking lot. Instead, she sat down in front of a computer, typing in a name.

Cade Tremaine.

The file unfolded slowly on the screen, and Shae leaned closer, scrolling down as she scanned it quickly before she stopped, paused to read more carefully. Minutes later she logged off, more shaken than she cared to admit.

She didn’t know many men who took three bullets to the chest in the line of duty, only to be back on the job two short months later. He’d been dangerously close to death by the time he’d arrived at the hospital, and his recovery must have depended on equal parts luck, science and sheer force of will. Even from the limited time she’d spent with the detective, his tenacity was apparent. She could only assume he’d browbeaten his physician into granting him a release without giving many details of the danger of the job he was returning to. From what she’d witnessed today, it didn’t appear as though he’d allowed his condition to slow him down much.

It shouldn’t matter. As she made her way to the parking lot, she tried, and failed, to convince herself of that. In all likelihood she’d never see the detective again, and a flicker of relief accompanied the thought. What kind of person, after all, exhibited that kind of dedication to his job? A very determined man. Or a very driven one.

Either way, he seemed like an excellent man to avoid.

At dusk St. Jude’s had emptied of the usual tourist tours. In New Orleans cemeteries were notoriously unsafe at night. Row after row of white monuments provided endless hiding places for thieves and muggers waiting to pounce on the unwary. Only foolish or dangerous souls would take a chance and be caught there alone. The woman standing before the narrow gleaming tomb didn’t fit either description.

Cade reached her, placed his hands on her shoulders. “Carla.” She didn’t turn; she must have heard his approach. She covered one of his hands with both of hers.

“We just got the marker up.”

“I saw that. It looks good.” Silently they both stared at the shiny gold plaque.

Brian Hollister, beloved husband of Carla, father of Benjamin and Richard. Died too young in the line of duty.

“He was a good cop, wasn’t he, Cade?”

“The best.” There was no doubt in his voice, none in his mind. He’d partnered with Brian since he’d made detective four years ago, was godfather to both his children. He’d spent as much time at the Hollister home as he did at his own apartment. And not a day had passed in the past two months that he didn’t feel guilty for being alive while his friend lay lifeless in the family vault.

“I can’t tell you what it means to hear you say that.” Carla turned to face him, and he saw the toll the recent weeks had taken on her. Always delicate, the Creole beauty looked as though a good wind would tumble her over. There was no sign of her familiar teasing smile, but the haunted look in her dark eyes struck a chord. He saw the same in his own each time he looked in the mirror.

“Have they gotten to you yet, Cade?”

He frowned, not understanding her meaning. “Has who gotten to me?”

“Internal Affairs.” The venomous tone sounded foreign to her usually soft voice. “They’ve been to the house at least three times, most recently yesterday. At first they danced around things, saying how sorry they were about Brian. Then they started asking questions. Had he said where he was going that night, what he was going to be doing? Yesterday they asked if they could go through his things.”

Her words seemed to come from a distance. Internal Affairs? Cade tried, and failed, to imagine a positive reason for them to be looking into the shooting. The whole event, as much as he remembered of it, had been laid out in the report he’d dictated to the investigating officers. Then her last sentence registered, and her revelation started to take on an even more ominous light. “What did they want to look through?”

“Brian’s case files. They asked whether he kept notes on any ongoing investigations and I said no. You know Brian left work at work.”

“What are they looking for?”

She gave a harsh laugh. “Irregularities is the word they used. Like he was a damn accountant or something. When I press for more information, they clam up. But every time they come around, they get pushier, and one of them threatened to get a search warrant.”

Although trepidation was circling in his gut, he made an automatic effort to soothe. “Don’t worry about it, Carla. It’s just I.A. on another wild-goose chase.”

She clutched his arm, her fingers biting. “I was a policeman’s wife for eight years. I know what I.A.’s all about. Cops hunting other cops. They think Brian was dirty. They’re investigating him.”

Looking into her liquid dark eyes, he couldn’t find it in himself to lie to her. “What are their names?”

“Torley and Morrison. Do you know either of them?”

He shook his head. But then, he wasn’t especially well-acquainted with anyone from I.A. Because of their occupation, the cops he knew had a healthy disdain for that department. Ferreting out corruption in the ranks was a noble enough calling, he supposed, but good cops had a way of getting dragged into their investigations, too. And the taint of an I.A. investigation had stalled more than one police officer’s career.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his wallet. It took a moment searching the contents before he found what he was looking for. He took out a card and handed it to her. “I want you to get in touch with someone at this number.” She took the card and looked at it. “It’s the policemen’s-rights committee. Tell them what’s been going on and then follow whatever advice they give you.”

Her jaw set in an expression that was all too familiar. “I can’t call them, Cade. It’d be like admitting there was substance behind I.A.’s interest.”

“It’s an admission that you need help,” he retorted, “and with I.A. sniffing around, for whatever reason, you do. Call them. I’m going to check in tomorrow to make sure you did. Got it?” He waited until she gave him a reluctant nod. “Good.” Gathering her close, he patted her back reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’ll all turn out to be nothing.”

“You won’t let them smear his memory, will you?” For the first time her control seemed to waver. He could feel the tremors working through her body. “He was a decent cop. You said so yourself. I don’t want my babies growing up thinking otherwise.”

The thought of his two dark-eyed godsons had his chest going tight. At three and two, neither of them would recall their father. There would be no memories of ball games and barbecues, or fishing in the bayou. All they’d have, all there was, were pictures and newspaper clippings. And the stories their mother would tell them about their father’s bravery. Living up to a hero’s legacy could keep the boys on the right track all their lives. And living with a shadow over their name could send them hurtling down the wrong path.

“No.” The word was torn from him without his conscious permission as he hugged his dead partner’s widow closer. “I won’t let them smear Brian.”

Chapter 2

“Shae, you’re needed in I.C.U.”

Shae looked up as Tim Pearson, the E.R. supervisor, strode into the examining room. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged. “All I can tell you is that Martin Reeves called down and said to send you up to room six. We’re not too busy right now. I’ll take over for you here.”

He reached for her clipboard, but Shae was slow to relinquish it. What would Martin Reeves, one of the hospital administrators, want with her? She’d rarely had occasion to even speak to the man, but when she did, it was in his office on the sixth floor, not on the intensive-care ward.

“Is it about one of my patients?”

He tugged lightly at the clipboard, and she released it. “He didn’t say. Just asked if I could spare you for a few minutes, but you’re using that time up pretty rapidly.”

Given the number of times she’d rejected Pearson’s invitations to go out together, she wasn’t overly concerned with his brusqueness. He wasn’t a man to accept rejection gracefully, but he was professional enough not to let it affect their working together. He was right about one thing—the only way to get her questions answered was to head to I.C.U.

“What do we have here?” Pearson asked.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she made to leave. A much bigger person wouldn’t take a modicum of enjoyment from handing this particular case over to the man who had made such a pest of himself for several months before he’d finally given up on her.

But sometimes being small and petty could be so satisfying.

“Patient presented with severe pain due to an obstruction,” she said blandly.

Tim’s gaze shot up from the clipboard, took in the male patient positioned on his stomach, his hips propped up by several pillows. Next his eyes took in the utensils Shae had gathered, lingered on the set of forceps. His head swiveled to hers, the expression in his handsome face dismayed. “It probably wouldn’t hurt if you were a little late upstairs. Just tell them you couldn’t get free.”

She was already moving away from the cubicle. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t pay to keep Martin waiting.”

The small sense of pleasure she derived at the thought of Pearson’s distaste for the task ahead of him had dissipated by the time the elevator doors slid open on the I.C.U. floor. It vanished completely when she stepped into room six and observed its four occupants. Reeves was there, his plastic public-relations smile firmly affixed to his plump face. With his solemn presence and unfailingly smooth tones, he’d always reminded her more of an undertaker than an administrator. A uniformed policeman stood next to the room’s bed. But it was the patient in the bed that drew her attention. Jon LeFrenz.

With a thread of apprehension she swung her gaze to the man lounging in the corner. Cade Tremaine. He was again dressed in jeans, wearing a black T-shirt and black running shoes. Today he wore a shoulder holster, along with his shield. He didn’t look any more rested than he had three days ago.

Annoyed that she’d made unconscious note of the fact, she stopped in the doorway, addressed Reeves. “You wanted to see me?”

“Dr. O’Riley, Detective Tremaine has asked for our cooperation while he speaks to Mr. LeFrenz. I assured him the hospital would extend him every courtesy.”

It would have been difficult to miss the warning in the man’s civil tones. Ignoring it, she asked, “Just exactly what courtesy is the detective requesting?”

“Me, Angel Eyes. I’m the one with the request.” LeFrenz reached over to press the button that would raise the head of his bed. His other wrist was handcuffed to the railing. “I got no reason to trust Tremaine, but I said if you was in the room, maybe I’d answer a few questions for him.” He grinned. Without the oxygen mask and pain twisting his features, it was apparent he was several years older than she’d originally thought. And equally apparent that he was taking great delight in drawing her into the drama between him and the NOPD.

She looked at Reeves. “I’m on duty. I don’t have time to baby-sit.”

The administrator’s smile chilled but didn’t disappear. “You can make time.” Looking at Tremaine, he said cordially, “Dr. O’Riley is at your disposal, Detective. Please don’t keep her too long. The E.R. is slow right now, but that has a way of changing suddenly.”

“I appreciate it. If they page her, I’ll send her right down.”

Nodding, the other man strode from the room.

There was nothing quite so annoying as feeling like a pawn in a situation of someone else’s making. Shae made no attempt to keep the irritation from her voice as she asked Tremaine, “Just what is it exactly that I’m here for?”

The detective shoved away from the wall he’d been leaning against, crossed to her side and cupped her elbow. “We can talk outside.”

“Hey, where you taking her? Tremaine? Tremaine!” LeFrenz bellowed as Cade inexorably guided her resisting form to the hallway. “She’s here because I said so. Bring her back. Now, Tremaine!”

Before they’d taken a dozen steps outside the room, Shae yanked her elbow out of the man’s grasp and turned to face him. “Care to tell me what this is all about? I have patients downstairs to tend to.”

The detective just gazed at her, his dark-green gaze inscrutable. “You have a patient up here, too.”

“LeFrenz isn’t my patient anymore. He’s Dr. Lyndstrom’s.” Something about the steady intensity of his regard made her uneasy. Since no man made her nervous, not ever, she decided the reaction had to do with his occupation. Dealing with cops had always raised her stress level.

“I’ve been in to question him every day since he got out of surgery and he hasn’t given me jack. The only thing he has said, more than once, is that he wants to see you.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Apparently you made quite an impression on him, Angel Eyes.”

She gave an impatient shrug. “And this concerns me how?”

“Jonny hasn’t been exactly cooperative up to this point. But he promised that your presence would change that. I thought it was worth a shot to see if he would be any more talkative with you in the room.”

Giving an incredulous laugh, she said, “You mean, I’m a bribe? Drop dead, Tremaine.” Turning, she walked toward the elevator.

He stepped into her path and she stopped, rather than risking running into him. “I wondered if there was a temper to match that red hair.” His mouth quirked. “Now I know.” As quickly as the humor flashed into his face, it was gone again. “Are you telling me you can’t spare fifteen minutes to help the NOPD?”

She raised a brow. “Appealing to my sense of civic duty? Maybe that would have worked if you’d approached me first, instead of running to Reeves.” Even as she said the words, she tasted the lie in them.

Cade shoved his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. “Reeves? Oh, you mean the suit. I figured you might need permission to leave the floor for a while. Yeah, okay, so I’m using you. I admit it. But I got a kid dead because of the sh—drugs that LeFrenz sold him. We’re not so different, you and me. We both try to keep people alive.”

Bitterness twisted through her at his words. Professionally, at least, his words were true enough. But personally… Tremaine would be shocked to discover just how far apart they were.

He moved closer to her, his head tilted intimately toward hers, his voice now low and persuasive. “C’mon, Doc. What’s the harm?”

Startled, her gaze jerked to his. He had a smoker’s voice, slightly raspy, with more than a hint of the South in it. She’d heard it hard, demanding, expressionless. But she’d never heard it sounding like this. That coaxing tone he’d adopted was pure sex, honey-coated temptation that issued its own beguiling invitation. She imagined there were few women who’d ever stood firm against it.

With new eyes she reassessed him, not as a doctor but as a woman. His long narrow face wasn’t conventionally handsome, but it was strong, with its slash of cheekbones, straight nose and sensual lower lip. A lock of his dark-brown hair seemed permanently out of place, usually falling across his forehead. She’d noticed him shoving it away more than once. Coupled with those penetrating jade eyes and rangy build, his physical presence no doubt made it easy for him to persuade women to do just about anything he asked. The slight pallor he still wore would only make him more convincing.

He reached for one of her hands, held it in his as his thumb skated over her knuckles. At the touch, her eyelids lowered, her lips parted.

“Tell me something,” she murmured throatily.

Although he hadn’t moved, somehow he seemed closer. “Mmm-hmm?”

“Does this little act of yours usually work?” When he went still, she retrieved her hand, angled her chin and looked him squarely in the eye. She saw comprehension register there, followed by a flicker of amusement.

“Yes.” There wasn’t a hint of apology in his voice.

“Well—” her smile was brittle as she stepped away from him “—I’ll have to readjust my estimate of women’s intelligence.”

He tucked his fingers in his pockets again and rocked back on his heels. “It was the hand holding, wasn’t it. Too over the top for you? I was afraid so, but you’re a tough one to read.”

She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or disarmed by his matter-of-fact admission. It suited her to be annoyed. “Has it ever occurred to you to just be upfront about what you want?”

“Sure, I tried that first. Figured you for a more straightforward approach. When that didn’t work, I had to improvise.”

Even as she was shaking her head at his blatant confession of manipulation, he was continuing. “You won’t be in any danger in there, if that’s what you’re afraid of. LeFrenz can’t get out of the bed, and if he could, the officer and I will be in there with you.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” she said automatically.

“You should be.” His voice was grim. “He may look like a choirboy, but he’s got a rap sheet as long as my arm. His juvie record dates back to when he was ten and mugged a homeless woman for her social-security check. He’s one of the major drug dealers in the city now.”

Despite herself, a chill chased up her spine. The detective was painting a picture of a hardened criminal. But she was painfully aware of the spin law enforcement types could put on people’s pasts. She had no doubt that St. Theresa herself would be demonized beyond recognition if an ambitious prosecutor dug into her life.

It was that knowledge, rather than any real sympathy for LeFrenz, that kept her carefully noncommittal. “I don’t know what help I’d be in there.”

“You’ll only be there to pacify LeFrenz.” The detective’s mouth curled. “The scumbag is being manipulative, but you’re the only lever I’ve got on him. For some reason he’s fixated on you. If he gets what he wants, seeing you, he might give up some information in return.”

“He didn’t seem about to give anything up in the emergency room a few days ago,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to lose, do I? What do you say?”

Shae stalled by checking her watch. If she walked away as she wanted to, she’d certainly hear about it from the hospital administrator. But it would almost be worth it to avoid the detective.

He made her uneasy. Not nervous, but…on edge. She’d have to be dead not to be aware of the currents of energy that rolled off him. Her femininity might be dormant, but it wasn’t dead. She didn’t want to get involved in whatever mission drove the man hard enough for him to put his job before his health. She didn’t want to get caught up with the police in any capacity.

As if her agreement was already determined, he started issuing commands. “When you go in the room, I want you to stand on the side of the bed he’s cuffed on. Don’t go too close. The officer will stay on the other side, and he’ll stop him if he makes a grab for you.”

“I hardly think I have anything to fear from an I.C.U. patient with only one hand free,” she said dryly.

His expression was not amused. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. People who do that have a way of going missing.”

He turned and headed back toward the room, leaving her to follow more slowly. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she brought out her beeper, as if she could will it to summon her back downstairs. But it remained stubbornly silent. With a sigh, she dropped it back into her pocket and entered the room.

“Angel Eyes.” LeFrenz’s gaze burned fever-bright. “Thought you might have decided not to join our little party.”

“Me?” She kept her voice carefully expressionless as she positioned herself near the side of his bed. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I was startin’ to think you’d forgotten me down there.” LeFrenz seemed intent on ignoring the policemen in the room. “Figured you’d at least come to check on me.”

“As I explained to Detective Tremaine, there was no need. You’re under Dr. Lyndstrom’s care now. He’ll do the follow-up visits.”

“Dr. Lyndstrom don’t have big blue eyes that a guy could drown in.” LeFrenz looked her up and down with an insulting familiarity. “Don’t have long legs like yours, neither.”

When Shae had worked on LeFrenz in the E.R., he’d been just another patient needing her help. But now there was something revolting about that lascivious expression sitting on his cherubic countenance. Her flesh prickled. She experienced the same sort of revulsion by kicking over a rock and watching the disgusting creatures beneath scuttle for cover. “In the short time you’ll be with us, I think you’ll come to appreciate some of Dr. Lyndstrom’s better qualities.”

“That’s right, Jonny.” Cade strolled toward the bed. “You aren’t going to be here long enough to get too attached. County lockup has a medical wing, and I’m betting they have a comfortable cot with your name on it. Can’t promise you any good-looking nurses, but hey—” he gave a negligent shrug “—with where you’re going, it’s best you get used to not seeing women, anyway.”

For the first time the patient pulled his gaze from Shae and looked at the detective. “You don’t have enough to hold me, Tremaine.”

Derision sounded in the detective’s voice. “What are you, slow or something? I stood over that dying kid’s body and he gave you up as the one who sold him the cocaine. I walk in on you in the middle of bagging your stash, you pull a gun on me and fire while attempting to flee. What part of that doesn’t add up to ‘enough’ for you?”

Shae had the feeling she’d been all but forgotten. This was a private war, being fought between LeFrenz and Tremaine. The patient’s voice was still cocky when he answered, “Okay, so you’ll get the possession with intent to stick. With the new sentencing laws in Louisiana, I’ll be out in five. You can’t tie the kid to me, though. With him dead, his naming me is hearsay. Ain’t no jury in the world gonna convict on only your word.”

Tremaine’s face remained remarkably calm. “That might be true under normal circumstances. But that kid was the nephew of the mayor’s wife.” He waited for the news to sink in, noted with satisfaction that LeFrenz had gone a bit paler. “Even you have to figure out what that means.”

The boy’s death had already received more than the usual attention from the media. High-profile names in a police investigation always invited scandal, and scandal made for good copy. The political spin on this one was to turn the dead boy into an unwitting victim of a murderous drug dealer. The version was close enough to the truth to suit Cade, especially when resulting local sentiments were screams for LeFrenz’s blood.

“Your only chance of surviving this is to tell me who’s supplying you, Jonny.” No one rose as rapidly as LeFrenz had in the illegal drug market without help. “Give me the name and you become just another cog in the wheel. Cooperation buys a lot of leniency in the courts. Say the word and I can have the D.A. in here working out a deal.”

He knew he’d gotten to the man when he glanced away, looked at Dr. O’Riley as if he’d read the solution on her impassive face. Despite his impatience at the delay, Cade could hardly blame the man for his distraction. The leggy redhead was difficult to ignore. Today her mane of hair was scraped back in some kind of fancy braid that hung to the center of her shoulder blades. The severe style showed off those high cheekbones, her short straight nose and her come-to-bed eyes. With the white examining coat and the shapeless scrubs she wore, it was difficult to guess at the figure beneath. But that didn’t stop a man’s imagination from filling in the details.

He’d never lacked for imagination.

“Whaddaya think, Doc?” Jonny’s voice was conversational. If he’d been shaken by Cade’s earlier remarks, he’d since recovered. “Think I can trust the detective here to play straight with me?”

A moment passed. Then another. Cade found himself hardly daring to breathe. Shae O’Riley had made no effort to hide her reluctance to be involved in this scene. But instinct told him that reluctance stemmed from more than her unwillingness to leave the E.R. There was something in her voice when she talked to him, something in her eyes that shouted distrust. Since he’d met her just a few days ago, he could only figure it was directed at all cops, not just him. And if that was the case, she was the last person in the world he needed advising his perp.

But her words, when they came, were noncommittal. “Seems to me you’ve been playing roulette with your choices for some time now. The question is, are you man enough to face the consequences?”

“Honey, I’m man enough for anything you have in mind.” Cade sprang forward when LeFrenz reached for her with his free hand, but the uniform got to him first, restraining him. Jonny never took his eyes off Shae, just kept talking, his voice low and suggestive. “I’m looking forward to showing you that sometime. You and me, we could have us a real good time.”

“Make your choice, LeFrenz.” There was a slow burn in the pit of Cade’s belly. Not a little of it was due to the way the punk kept looking at the doctor, as if she was starring in a pornographic movie reel playing in his head. “She can’t help you with this. No one can. But you can help yourself.”

“Maybe I can cooperate with this detective, Angel Eyes, whaddaya think?” LeFrenz’s attention never swerved from Shae. “Maybe I can even tell him who put those bullets in his chest.” Her breathing stilled. She stared back at the young man, noted the mouth curled in sardonic amusement, so at odds with the angelic face. How did he know about the detective’s injury? She saw the same question reflected on the polished ebony face of the policeman at his side. But the man was too well trained to do more than look at the detective. Her gaze followed the direction of his, met Tremaine’s. His expression was inscrutable.

“Think that would interest him, Doc?” There was a hard note of glee underlying LeFrenz’s words. “I’m betting it would. I’m betting he’d arrange a pretty fine deal if I was to tell him where to look for the shooter.”

“Don’t change the subject, LeFrenz. You have one piece of information I want, and that’s pretty simple. Just a name.” Amazingly enough, the detective’s voice sounded bored. “Make it easy on yourself and give it up. Then you can start planning for your retirement.”

“He don’t believe me,” LeFrenz told Shae confidingly. “I’d think I would. We have something in common, me and him. We both know what it’s like to have a bullet plow into us, to watch the blood pour out. ’Course, I don’t know what it’s like to watch my partner die on the sidewalk next to me.” There was a stillness in the room that reminded Shae of an explosive waiting to detonate. “But then, maybe Tremaine don’t care about none of that. Maybe his partner was as dirty as everyone’s saying.”

There was no warning of his intention. One moment Cade was standing there, face grim. The next he’d leaned down, yanked LeFrenz up with one fist on the neck of his hospital gown. “You’ll show a little respect.” The words were murmured almost soundlessly, but the warning in them sent a shiver down Shae’s spine. Here was the control she’d sensed that first day from him, dangerously close to slipping. Here was the lethal intent that would drive a man from his hospital bed back to the streets much too soon.

And if LeFrenz was even half-right, here was the reason for that sense of purpose.

“A good cop is dead,” Cade went on. “If you have anything to report on that, let’s hear it. But don’t even think about yanking me around on this, LeFrenz. Brian Hollister got a hero’s funeral. No one in the city would even blink at the death of a two-bit drug dealer.”

The two men’s gazes did battle, while LeFrenz’s face slowly flushed red from the stranglehold the detective had on him. When Tremaine showed no signs of releasing him, Shae put her hand on his arm.

“Let’s give his wound a chance to heal before we inflict any further damage, shall we?” For a moment she didn’t think the detective was going to respond. LeFrenz was turning scarlet. She exerted a bit of pressure on the detective’s arm, and he slanted a look at her, the bitterness in it as sharp as a blade. Then in the next instant he released his grip, allowing the patient to drop down to the bed again.

“You’re the doctor” was all he said.

The pent-up breath she’d been holding streamed out of her. “That’s right. And I need to get back to the E.R. Let’s end this.”

“You tell the D.A. I got information on the shooting, Tremaine,” LeFrenz said when he could speak again. “You tell him that’s what I’m dealing. The name of a cop killer ought to trump a dead kid, right?”

“No one is going to believe you have something to trade on Hollister’s murder.” Shae listened in horrified fascination as the two men bartered. “Do you think you can just throw out some street gossip and beat a murder rap with it? You can’t be that stupid.”

“I got more than that, Tremaine. I got me a personal relationship with Freddie. You ’member Freddie, doncha?” Shae saw from the look on the detective’s face that the name was all too familiar. “I’ve had me some…transactions with him.”

“You mean you deal to him,” Cade said flatly.

LeFrenz rolled his shoulders. “Don’t matter how I know him. Just that he came to me that night in a big hurry. Had to get out of town and he needed some…supplies before he went.”

Cade folded his arms over his chest. “Let me guess. You set him up with a quick fix. Easier to pump a junkie for details when he’s just starting to reach for that high, isn’t it? And Freddie must have been getting desperate by the time he found you.”

“You never know when this kind of information is going to come in handy.” One eye slid closed in a sly wink. “He was shook up, all right. Figured you both for dead. Had himself a wad of cash, too, so someone paid him off. Since cops don’t deal in that kind of money, I’m thinking the shooters did.”

The conversation was painting an all-too-vivid picture for Shae. She could almost hear the gunfire, see the bodies crumpled on the ground. But if the words were bringing back traumatic memories for Tremaine, it didn’t show in his expression. That awesome control was back, and the rage that had briefly flared had been reined in, hidden. Somehow that evidence of his restraint was as fearsome as his temper had been.

“Where’s Freddie now?”

Again LeFrenz shrugged. “Split, man. Guess it wouldn’t be too healthy for him to stick around here. But before he left, he told me all about the whole thing.”

Cade considered him for a long moment. “I’ll run it by the D.A., see if he wants to deal. But your tip has to lead somewhere before he even considers trading for it. And we’re still gonna need the name of your supplier, too, if you’re hoping to slip out of a murder rap.”

Her beeper sounded, an insistent reminder. Shae didn’t reach for it. She was transfixed by the scene playing out before her.

LeFrenz laughed, an ugly sound. “Now who’s blowing smoke? I give up a cop killer, they gonna give me the key to the city. You go on and call the D.A., Tremaine. Run this by him. He’ll deal. I guarantee it.” He looked at Shae then, clearly finished with the conversation. “So Angel Eyes, you gonna stay up here a while and keep me company? Fluff my pillows? Give me a sponge bath, maybe?”

“She needs to get back to the E.R. You’ve already wasted enough of her time, LeFrenz.” The detective took her elbow and guided her of the room.

“You come on back and see me tomorrow, Doc,” LeFrenz called after her. “You and me, we have lots to talk about.”

Once in the hallway, she reached for her beeper, saw the E.R. number. “I have to get downstairs,” she said numbly.

“I figured.” Tremaine was all business now. “Thanks for coming up today. There shouldn’t be any reason for you to be here tomorrow. I think Jonny will jump at whatever bone the D.A. decides to throw him.”

He walked her to the elevator, jabbed the down button. Shae cautioned herself to keep silent. This wasn’t her business, none of it. But the questions whirling around inside her wouldn’t be quieted. “Is what he said in there true?” When Cade only looked at her, she continued, “I mean about what happened to you and your partner.”

The doors of the elevator slid open. Before they stepped inside, she was forced nearer to him to make room for people to exit. She chose the corner opposite his at the back of the compartment and leaned against the wall as she waited for his answer.

“It was close enough,” he finally responded. “Whether he has any more than that remains to be seen. He might just be bluffing, trying to avoid giving up his supplier’s name.”

She studied him, but his profile could have been set in stone. No one would guess that he was talking about discovering the identity of the man, or men, who’d shot him. Who’d killed his partner.

Something compelled her to push further. “And if he does have information about your partner’s death?” She waited for the detective’s gaze to meet hers. “What then? Will that boy who died be ignored in favor of arresting a cop killer?”

“Unless you want to loan me that crystal ball of yours, I have no idea what the D.A. is going to go for. Whichever is the surest thing, I imagine.”

The elevator doors opened to the E.R. floor. But Shae didn’t move. She couldn’t. No more than she could prevent the bitterness from shading her tone. “So that’s justice to you? The surest thing? Trading information for freedom with scum like that the way kids trade baseball cards?” There was a burning in her chest that was all too familiar. A helpless hopeless fury that she could never seem to completely dispel.

He stepped out of the elevator, his voice trailing over his shoulder. “It might not pass for justice to you, Doc. But sometimes it’s the only thing we’ve got.”

Chapter 3

“I liked the monkeys best.” The pigtailed six-year-old at Shae’s side skipped a little as they made their way down the hallway back to her apartment. “Especially the ones with the rainbows on their bottoms.”

“Those are baboons, honey.” Shae smiled at TeKayla’s description. “But they were funny, weren’t they?”

The little girl nodded. “And I liked feeding crackers to the giraffes, too. Can we go back to the zoo sometime?”

Stopping before the girl’s door, Shae rang the bell. “Maybe next month.” Noting a sulk on the way, she reminded the girl, “You wanted to go to the alligator farm next, remember?”

TeKayla brightened just as the door swung open. “Momma, Momma, guess what?” She barreled through the doorway and wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs. “Shae’s gonna take me to a gator farm next.”

“That sounds fine, baby doll.” Weariness sounded in the woman’s voice, showed on her face. She managed a wan smile for Shae. “Thanks for taking her to the zoo. I know she can be a handful.”

“No problem. Did you get any sleep while we were gone?” Hapi Gleason worked two jobs, one of them third shift. TeKayla spent much of the time at home with a sitter when her mother could afford it, and alone when she couldn’t. Shae knew Social Services were aware of the situation, but recent budget cuts had decreased their resources. So far, their involvement hadn’t seemed to change things appreciably.

The door was already closing. “Had me laundry to do. Din’t have no time for sleep.”

“Well, let me know if I can—” the door closed in her face “—help.” Staring at the raised panels, she sighed. There was no doubt in her mind that Hapi considered her an interfering do-gooder. But the truth was…

The truth, she thought, as she made her way to the elevator to go up to her apartment, was that fifteen years ago she’d have thought the same thing about anyone who tried to lend her assistance. She’d have viewed it with doubt and suspicion and sooner have spit on it than accept help, however well intended. At any rate, it was totally out of character for her to get involved like this. Her patients were her duty, her neighbors were not. Other than the Gleasons and the super, she had only a nodding acquaintance with the other people in her building. That had always been the way she liked it. Her hours didn’t give her a lot of free time, and the time off she did have would be better spent on her own errands and chores.

When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, she went to her door and inserted the key. From the first there had been something about TeKayla’s gap-toothed grin and puppy-dog friendliness that had charmed her. The child spent way too much time unsupervised on the stoop out front, even when her mother was home. Although this was a decent enough neighborhood, it was old and close enough to the projects to warrant exercising some caution.

She pushed open the door, dropped her keys and the mail she’d collected from her mailbox downstairs on the table beside it. Crossing to the closet, she hung up her coat and purse. There was no way she would have been able to afford this much space in a more exclusive neighborhood. The entire top floor had been converted to a loft apartment, with screens and throw rugs delineating the space. Upstairs, beneath a huge skylight, was a bedroom with an attached bath. It was simple, comfortable and private. It fit her needs precisely.

Walking to the kitchen tucked into one corner, she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, she tipped it to her lips, drank.

“Quite a place you got here, Shae girl.”

The bottle dropped from nerveless fingers as she swung around, her gaze sweeping the area for a weapon. She had her hand on the knife board before she recognized the voice. It was telling that even then, especially then, she had to force herself to release her grip on the weapon.

“What are you doing here, Da?” Her tone was flat, no welcome in it. She watched the tall handsome, man stroll down the spiral staircase from the loft, before posing theatrically at its base, arms spread.

“Shae, my girl, is that any way to greet your old man? Come over and give me a proper welcome.”

A proper welcome would be something between a knife in his heart and a boot out the door. She settled for uncompromising indifference. “Most people use the doorbell. Mind telling me how you got in here?”

One well-manicured index finger to his lips, Ryan O’Riley said, “Now, now. You know I never divulge my methods.”

“You don’t have to. You either broke in or bribed someone.” She bent down, picked up the bottle she’d dropped and grabbed a towel to wipe up the water that had spilled. “Knowing your basic lack of ambition, I imagine bribery was your means of choice.”

“You’ve grown hard, girl.” An expression of sadness settled on Ryan’s face as he heaved a sigh. “I blame myself for that.”

Rising again, she tossed the wet towel in the sink. “There’s plenty to blame yourself for, Da. By all means, don’t stop there.”

If age had caught up with Ryan McCabe O’Riley, it hadn’t dared to show itself. His six-foot frame was still straight, his red hair as bright as her own. His unlined face looked a good ten years younger than its fifty years. It was amazing, Shae thought bitterly, what living without care or conscience could do for a person.

“I wouldn’t say no to one of those bottled waters if you were to offer,” he hinted broadly, leaning against the counter.

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. But spitefulness wouldn’t solve anything, and it certainly wouldn’t get rid of him. When he wanted something, her father could be amazingly thick-skinned. And he definitely wanted something, or he never would have shown up here.

She got him a water, slid it over to him. “I’m not giving you any money.”

The stage had missed a born actor in Ryan O’Riley. The injured expression on his face was worthy of a Tony. “Can’t I just stop by and catch up with my only daughter? My eldest and the dearest to her father’s heart?”

Giving up, Shae propped a hip against the wall, watching him. There would be no rushing him. He’d take his own time getting to the point, and then use charm, guilt and familial loyalty to try to get his way. The combination had never worked on her, but he’d always refused to acknowledge that.

“I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” Few seeing the beaming paternal look on his handsome face would doubt his sincerity. “My daughter, the doctor. I can’t believe the little girl I raised is saving lives every day. The emergency room at Charity, right?”

She ignored his question, preferring to focus on his statement. “It would certainly be a stretch to claim you had any part in raising me. If we were to add up all the time you actually spent with your family, we’d probably come up with…what? Three years, total?”

His brows lowered. “Now, Shae, don’t go blaming me for things out of my control. I did what I had to do to put food on my family’s table, to provide for your mother, you and your brother. I know you always felt I could have done more, but—”

“You mean like hold a steady job? Bring a paycheck home? Be a father, instead of an occasional house guest?” With effort she kept her tone expressionless. Emotion was an ineffective weapon against him. He’d only wield it against her. “Any of those would have been a start. But you chose to take the easy route, running one scam after another in search of a quick buck.”

“Those were legitimate entrepreneurial enterprises,” he corrected her. “Each and every one of them.”

“Of course. And the police take such a narrow view of entrepreneurs, don’t they?”

“Apparently.” Nodding, he took another swig. Sarcasm was wasted on him. It was only one of his annoying qualities. “Because I understand poor Liam got caught up in their net.”

Rage, only recently tucked away, bubbled through her veins. “Poor Liam took a page out of his da’s book and looked for the easy life. He was caught red-handed with an apartment full of electronics. Where do you suppose he learned his skill breaking and entering?”

“I won’t be having you take that tone with me, Shae Kathleen O’Riley.” Ryan’s voice was stern. “I taught the boy better than that, just like I taught you.”

As quickly as the fury had boiled over, it vanished, leaving desolation in its wake. “You should have left him with me after Mam died. We were doing fine on our own. He was in a good school and making decent grades. Living with you ruined him.”

“Well, now, I know you’ve never forgiven me for taking him and leaving you alone, girl.” With a neat twist, he turned the words back on her, distorting the truth. “But what kind of father would I have been to leave my son to be raised by his sister, and you only twenty yourself?”

The kind of father, she thought resentfully, who hadn’t had his eye on the welfare check that could be applied for when an unemployed man had a dependent. She imagined the majority of it every month had gone to the track.

“We’d done well enough on our own for over two years.” Not for the first time, she considered the futility of this line of conversation. Ryan would never change. She’d known that since she was eight. Arguing about it was pointless. She spent as much effort as necessary to avoid thinking about him most days.

“Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?” She hadn’t even known he was in the city. She hadn’t seen him since Liam’s eighteenth birthday.

“Can’t a father even…” Observing the stony expression on her face, he swallowed his words. “The truth is, darlin’, your old man is in a wee spot of trouble.” With the dimple winking in his left cheek, he looked like a mischievous rogue admitting to stealing a kiss from the neighbor girl. She’d seen the look too often to be swayed by it.

“Police or money?” she asked briskly.

He made a sound of dismay. “I believe the NOPD may be looking to have a discussion with me, but that’s just a misunderstanding. However, there are some people I need to pay if I want in on a new venture. I think you’ll agree that this is an opportunity I can’t afford to pass up.”

The buzzer sounded, which was just as well. Her temples had begun to throb, a sure sign that she’d been in her father’s company too long. Crossing to the front door, she pressed the button on the intercom. “Yes?”

“Let me up, Shae.”

She had no difficulty identifying the raspy tones, softened by a cadence of the South. But she did have difficulty responding to it. What could be so important that Cade Tremaine would seek her out here? That thought was quickly followed by another. She didn’t want him here in her home. Didn’t want to see him among her things, his presence stamping the area with an indelible brand that would be impossible to erase even when he’d gone.

“What do you want, Detective?” From the corner of her eye she saw the alarm cross Ryan’s face, saw him push away from the counter.

“I’m not going to have this conversation standing in the street.” His low smoky drawl was adamant. “Buzz me in.”

“This isn’t a good time for me.”

There was a moment of silence when she wondered what he was thinking. But when he spoke again finally, he sounded no less determined. “Then I’ll apologize for the inconvenience, but this won’t wait.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to have to.” She no more wanted to prolong this time with her father than she wanted Tremaine up here. And there was no way she could deal with the two men together.

She turned away from the intercom, fully expecting more demands. But it remained silent. Her father was staring at her, trepidation on his face. “What would a detective want with you?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Da.” Abruptly a wave of weariness swept over her. The day had started in a relaxed-enough fashion, but stress was seeping in, one layer at a time. Seeing that her words hadn’t wiped the worry from her father’s face, she added, “It’s something about work. A patient of mine. Let’s get back to what brought you here.”

Understanding had taken the place of concern in his expression. Understanding that, as it turned out, was totally misplaced. “You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you girl? Take some advice from your da—keep your cons out of your workplace. It’s cleaner that way.”

For one of the few times in her life, she was speechless. She stared at him, shocked that he knew her so little. And then shocked at herself for being surprised by that. She shook her head, gave a grim laugh. “Yeah, Da, I’m running scams in the hospital. Got a little betting pool going on the wheelchair races on the fourth floor.”

“Which brings me to why I’m here.” Although she didn’t quite follow his segue, she was glad he was finally getting to the point of his visit. Ryan reached for his bottle of water again. “I’ve got a chance to get in on a dandy little deal, and I think you can be a big help to me.”

“No.”

He went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “All I need is a list of people in the city with the kind of money needed to be interested in what I’ll be selling.”

Shae picked up the lid to her own bottle, screwed it on with more force than necessary. “Didn’t you hear me? I said no.”

“Names, that’s all I’m asking you for. Doctors have plenty of money and you must have contacts at the other hospitals, as well.” His tone became wheedling. “It’s not so much to give, Shae, to your dear old da you haven’t seen in years.” Pleased with his pitch, he tilted the bottle to his lips and drank. “Maybe you could arrange for an introduction or two, as well. I’ll do the rest.”

“I realize this is a difficult concept for you to understand, Da, but listen carefully. I’m not going to say it again.” She leaned over the counter, shoved her face close to his. “No.”

“You’ve got a streak of stubbornness in you, girl. Have to think you got it from your sainted mother’s side, God rest her soul.” Ryan did a quick sign of the cross, cast his gaze heavenward. “Can’t help but believe she’d frown on the way you’re treating your father right now.”

“You’ve always had a talent for believing whatever suited your purposes.” The irony in her voice was lost in the sound of her doorbell ringing. Her head jerked toward the door. She was the only occupant on this floor. It was rare for another tenant to come calling for any reason, with the occasional exception of TeKayla. Pushing away from the counter, she went to the door, looked out the peephole.

Somehow, the last person she’d expected to see there was Detective Cade Tremaine. She took a step back, and then another. But she couldn’t avoid his voice. “Open the door, Shae. It’d be useless to pretend you’re not in there.”

Dimly she was aware that Ryan was rapidly making his way to the staircase, ascending it. She could only assume he was looking for a place to hide until the detective left.

“How about if I just pretend you weren’t invited into the building?” Temper snapped in her words. “Oh, wait, that wouldn’t be pretense, would it? I told you it wasn’t a good time, Detective.”

“And I’m sorry about that.”

There was that voice again, the same one he’d used when he’d tried to convince her to help him with LeFrenz in I.C.U. The smooth drawl coated his raspy tones like thick sweet honey, designed to weaken the knees and elevate the pulse. But the fact that hers was pounding had nothing to do with him, she told herself firmly, and everything to do with the stress of the past hour.

“I won’t take up much of your time, Dr. O’Riley. Shae.” His voice dropped intimately on the last word, as if caressing the single syllable. “Let me in. I don’t want to talk to you through a door and I’m not going away. I can be very persistent.”

She didn’t need to be told that. Undecided, she threw a look over her shoulder. There was no sign of Ryan, and probably no reason to worry about him. He’d always had an aptitude for dodging the police.

Making her decision, she unlocked the dead bolt, swung open the door a few inches and surveyed him. “Persistent isn’t the word I would have used. Stubborn, maybe. Inconsiderate. Pesky.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Semantics. Are you going to let me in?”

She didn’t even need to think about her answer. “No.”

“Okay.” His easy acceptance didn’t fool her. This man’s will was like forged steel. He propped himself against the doorjamb, the position putting his face too close to hers. She wasn’t short, but he topped her five-foot eight by a good four inches. “I looked for you at the hospital last night.”

Wariness threaded through her. “I got off at five. I’m not back on again until tomorrow.”

“That’s what somebody said.” He wore jeans again today, old sneakers and a white shirt under an open leather jacket. His eyes were a little bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved recently. Either he’d gone on a bender last night or he hadn’t slept at all. Intuitively she knew it was the latter.

“Why are you here, Detective?” she asked bluntly. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could send him on his way. And then focus on dispatching Ryan with the same speed. Just the thought made her tired again.

“Do you think I could have a glass of water?” When she only blinked, his mouth curved again. “Got a bit parched standing out front trying to wheedle my way in here.”

“Since I didn’t let you in, I’m assuming you wheedled one of the other tenants.”

He gave a slow nod. “Nicest little old blue-haired lady. She had a mite more respect for my shield than you do.”

“Look, Detective—”

“That water?” he prompted.

Giving up, she turned away and strode toward the refrigerator, yanked it open. Taking out a bottle, she rose, only to find him standing inside the apartment, the door closed behind him, his gaze sweeping the area. A burn began to simmer inside her. “Very clever. You’re pretty adept at getting what you want, aren’t you, Detective.”

She could have told him that the innocent look he attempted was in vain. Innocence was one expression his warrior’s face could never carry off. “All I wanted was a glass of water.”

When she threw the bottle to him, he caught it in one hand. “Thanks.” Taking his time, he removed the cap and drank, all the while surveying the space. “Nice place. I was a bit surprised at your address. I thought doctors lived in gated communities. By the lake or something.”

“Maybe those are the doctors who’ve paid off their college loans.”

“Maybe.” His gaze landed on the two half-empty water bottles on the counter, lingered. “Did you have company?”

She’d never know what compelled her to lie. Experience had taught her that it paid to keep things simple. But the words tumbled from her lips before she’d had a chance to think them through. “No. I was just thirsty.” He didn’t speak, but neither did his gaze waver. And being the object of that intense jade regard was just as nerveracking as she’d feared. “I forgot I’d already opened one.”

He crossed to the counter, leaned against it. After taking another swallow of water, he then set the bottle down, reached out a lazy finger and touched the one Ryan had left. “Still cold.”

She snatched it away, took it to the sink and poured it out. “I have things to do, Tremaine. Let’s get on with whatever it is that brought you here.”

“Have you spoken to anyone from work today?”

The abrupt transition had her turning back toward him. “No, why?”

“Last night Jonny LeFrenz broke out of the hospital. Or rather,” he corrected himself, “someone broke him out.”

Gaping at him, she struggled to collect her thoughts, which had abruptly scattered.

“How… That’s not possible. He was handcuffed to the bed. There was a guard at his door.”

“The uniform had the keys to the cuffs.”

“You mean he unlocked them?”

“No.” Tremaine’s expression was stony. “I mean whoever killed the guard got the keys from his pocket.”

Abruptly in need of support, Shae leaned against a cupboard. “Someone killed that police officer?”

“Jabbed a hypodermic filled with a large dose of epinephrine into his heart. I’m told that would have dropped him within seconds.”

Horror washed over her. “It would have sped up the cardioactivity until the heart was rendered completely ineffective.”

“So I heard. The guard was summoned into the room and attacked there. Once he was out of the way, it would have been a simple matter to pull the covers up over LeFrenz and wheel him out of the hospital, especially during shift change late last night.”

She was shaking her head. “There’d be nothing simple about it. Even on third shift, the hospital is full of people, and a stranger is going to be recognized by somebody.” The detective’s silence was its own answer, one she quickly interpreted. “You don’t think it was a stranger.”

“Given the choice of weapon, the ease with which LeFrenz got away, no, not necessarily.”

Even while she attempted to grapple with this information, he dropped another bombshell. “What were you doing last night, Shae?”

Her gaze flew to his steely one. Although she knew her jaw was agape, it took a moment to summon the strength to close it. “You think I helped LeFrenz break out of police custody? That I killed someone to help him get away?” Astonishment and indignation mingled in her voice. “Are you crazy?”

“The entire staff is being questioned. I don’t have to tell you how serious this is. Another cop’s been murdered, the second in the last couple months. Two different investigations, but the department is justifiably tense. So I’m going to ask you again, where were you last night?”

She swallowed, her indignation already fading at the thought of the silent officer she’d seen in the I.C.U. lying lifeless on the hospital floor. “I left the hospital at five, went to the gym…”

“Which gym?”

His question reminded her that he’d check her story. The whole scene began to take on a surreal aspect. “Women’s Fitness on France and Tulane. I left there at six-thirty, came home and didn’t leave again.”

“Did you have any guests last night?”

“No.”

Leaving the bottle of water on the counter, he pushed away, began to stroll around her apartment. She didn’t know whether to be glad to be released from that unwavering gaze or to be annoyed as he picked up the book she was reading, looked at it, laid it down again. She decided she could feel both emotions at once.

“What time did you go to bed?”

She shrugged impatiently. “I don’t know. Eleven. Eleven-thirty.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Which was it?”

Stopping to think, she said, “Eleven-thirty. Conan O’Brien had just started.” Looking past him, she noticed he’d picked up the mail she’d dropped on the table inside the door. Annoyance definitely took precedence now. “Do you mind?” Striding toward him, she snatched the pile from his hand.

Eyeing her soberly, he asked, “Has LeFrenz contacted you?”

“No. Why would he?”

The twist of his mouth was mocking. “I don’t know, Angel Eyes, why would he?” When she remained stubbornly silent, he went on, “He’s got a thing for you. He wanted to see you yesterday. That’s why he made your presence a condition of cooperating. He’s still in serious condition. He’ll need a doctor’s care. Pick a reason.”

“No, he hasn’t contacted me.” Her tone was icy. “He’d have to be crazy to do so. He has no reason to believe I’d give him any help.”

Tremaine studied her, as if looking for answers she hadn’t given. “I can attest that he’s crazy. He’s also—” A small noise issued from the loft. The chill that came into his eyes then had her shivering. “Who’s here?”

Her mind didn’t seem capable of functioning. It had been too long since she’d last had experience lying to cops. And yet somehow not long enough. “No one.”

Her answer had his mouth flattening. Turning, he began crossing to the staircase, drawing a gun from the back of his waistband. She could only follow helplessly,. “Detective. Tremaine. You don’t have permission to invade my home like this.” Her words didn’t halt his progress. Taking the steps two at a time, she joined him in her bedroom, watched as his narrowed gaze took in the unmade bed, her nightgown tossed on top in a crumple of silk.

And then settle, as hers did, on the hinged set of bars swinging freely outward from the opened window. He went to it, looked at the pull-down fire escape that had been released to clatter to the ground. Then, his face hard, just a little mean, he looked back at her. “Your ‘no one’ just jumped out your window and went down the fire escape. Better start giving me a name, Doc. Or be prepared to come downtown so we can do this more formally.”

Chapter 4

For a moment Cade’s metamorphosis to steely-eyed cop hurtled her back to the past, and she was twelve again, holding the line against the detectives who’d come to the door in search of her father. No, he’s not here. No, I don’t know when he’s coming back. And no, you can’t search the house. Not without a warrant. The memory of the bitterness and bravado she’d felt then was still fresh, a slice of the past that never seemed to lose its sting.

But she wasn’t twelve anymore. With effort, she shook off the recollection. She didn’t feel any particular compunction about protecting a man who’d never been much of a parent. But there was a very similar reaction to a cop, Tremaine this time, encroaching on her home and demanding answers.

She went past him, leaned out the window to retract the fire escape. Closing the window, she carefully locked it before shutting the hinged set of bars and turning the key to secure the lock on it. With a tinge of irritation, she replaced the key in the drawer of her bedside table, where her father must have found it.

When she turned back to Tremaine, she saw no lessening in the tension in his expression. “Come on, Detective. You can’t honestly believe that I had Jonny LeFrenz in here. Or that a man who was still in I.C.U. twenty-four hours ago could be fit enough to scramble down a fire escape and race through an alley to make his getaway.”

His tone was unrelenting. “All I know is you didn’t want me in your apartment and you lied about being alone. If it wasn’t Jonny LeFrenz who jumped out your bedroom window, who was it?”

Still unwilling to answer that question, she countered, “Why would you think I’d help the man, anyway? From everything you’ve said, he’s a dangerous criminal. What possible reason would I have for allowing him up here?”

The shrug he gave was anything but nonchalant. “Maybe you didn’t have a choice. Maybe you knew him before he showed up in the hospital. Or maybe you’re just one of those women who have a things for bad boys.” His gaze turned speculative. “Unless you have another explanation for that letter downstairs from the Louisiana Federal Penitentiary.”

Her fingers curled into fists. It took more effort than it should have to keep them at her sides. She’d known as soon as she’d seen the long brown envelope in his hands that the return address wouldn’t have escaped him. She felt a surge of resentment, so sudden and fierce it nearly choked her. She didn’t owe this man anything, least of all an explanation. She wasn’t in the habit of airing her family’s dysfunctional secrets for the entertainment of strangers.

And that was exactly what Detective Cade Tremaine was. Although he’d recently been popping up in her life with unsettling frequency, the fact remained that she knew nothing about him. Except that he was a cop. He was in her apartment uninvited. And he was asking questions she’d much prefer to leave unanswered.

He must have read the obstinance on her face. “You don’t seem in too big of a hurry to give me answers, Doc. Maybe I’m gonna start drawing my own conclusions.”

“Go ahead,” she invited, tossing her head. “Start with the conclusion that I don’t want you here. That I resent your intrusion into my life and my home, and the way you seem to assume you have the right to demand answers to questions that are none of your damn business.”

A shutter seemed to come down over his eyes. “Somehow your privacy doesn’t stack up all that high against a dead cop and a drug dealer back on the street, instead of the cell where he belongs. One way or another, I will get answers to my questions.” He bared his teeth in something less than a smile. “But if I have to get uniforms here to canvass the neighbors, I’m not going to be near as patient as I’ve been so far.”

Shae had never much cared for the helplessness that came from dealing with cops. And she’d always hated the man responsible for putting her in those situations. But there was another part of her, an equally strong part, that recoiled from having policemen talking to her neighbors about her. The one thing she’d always been careful to maintain since she’d been an adult was her privacy.

“I haven’t seen Jonny LeFrenz since you questioned him that day,” she said flatly. She walked past Tremaine to the staircase. She’d much rather be having this conversation downstairs than in her bedroom. Turning back, she saw that Tremaine didn’t seem in any particular hurry to follow her. He remained where he was, standing too close to the side of her unmade bed for her peace of mind.

“Have you had any contact with him at all since then? Has anyone talked to you about him?”

She responded to the rapid-fire questions succinctly. “No and no.”

It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he believed her. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was finishing this and getting him out of her bedroom. “And the man who left through your window?”

“What makes you think it was a man?” He didn’t blink, just looked at her with that implacable stare. Suddenly she tired of this whole scene. She released a breath, and with it, some of her stubbornness. “It was my father.”

Although he still didn’t change expression, she had the feeling she’d managed to surprise him. She had no doubt that he’d be even more surprised by what a phone call to headquarters would no doubt elicit on the subject of the man. With a note of futility sounding in her voice, she invited him to do just that. “Dodging the police is an art form for Ryan O’Riley. You can call it in if you don’t believe me.”

There was a pang in her chest when, without a word, he reached for the phone on her bedside table to do just that. But before she could examine that emotion, it was quickly followed by dismay as he sank down on the side of her bed after placing the call.

Amidst the tangle of her lace-edged sheets, he appeared utterly foreign, utterly male. His lean hard frame should have seemed out of place in the deliberately feminine decor she’d chosen, but instead, he looked as if he’d just risen from that very bed after spending a particularly restless night. As if he’d just sat down for a moment after dressing to say goodbye to the woman he’d left sleeping there.

Her cheeks burned at the inescapable mental image. She didn’t do morning-afters, not ever, so it wasn’t experience that had supplied that particular picture. It was Tremaine himself. He seemed a little too comfortable in the intimate setting, enough so that he didn’t spare a glance for the slip of nightgown she’d left carelessly heaped in the center of the bed. Or for the pile of clothes she’d slipped out of last night, the black bra and scrap of matching panties, lying much too close to his feet.

After a brief conversation, he hung up the phone, rose to face her. “If your father is Ryan McCabe O’Riley, there’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

“What a shock.” This time she did leave the room, not waiting to see whether he’d follow. She was already seated on the couch, legs crossed, when he descended the stairway to survey her.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“The police have always displayed more interest in my father than I have.” She made a lazy gesture. “If the uniforms hurry, they may be able to pick up a trace of him before he disappears.”

“He’s wanted for fraud, the desk sergeant said.” Tremaine crossed to the couch and sat next to her, instead of choosing a chair several feet away, as she would have preferred.

“He has difficulty distinguishing the fine line between businessman and crook.” She shrugged as though it didn’t matter. Wished it didn’t. “And before you ask, I couldn’t give you any information on him even if I wanted to. Today was the first time in four years I’ve spoken to him.”

He glanced toward the loft, then back at her. “In that case, I should apologize for my timing.”

Rather than the speculation she’d expected, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes, in his voice. Uncomfortable with it, she rose. “Well, we can’t all grow up with Ward and June Cleaver. Now if you’re satisfied that I’m not harboring your runaway gangster, I have a ton of things I still need to do today.”

As a hint, it was far from subtle. But it failed miserably. He stretched his arms out along the back of the couch, giving the appearance of a man who meant to stay awhile. “I’ll admit that you don’t have LeFrenz hiding in your bedroom. I’m even willing to bet that you spent the night just as you claim. But there’s still the little matter of Jonny’s fixation on you.”

He must have read the impatience and frustration on her face, because he went on, “You may not know him, but I do. He’s a two-bit dealer who has always managed to avoid hard jail time.”

“I’ve treated dealers before, Detective. I’ve also worked on murderers and child molesters.” Her voice was stony. “We provide care to anyone who needs it, whether they’re upstanding citizens or not. I’ve never had one of them contact me outside the hospital.”

“After last night, the stakes are even higher for LeFrenz,” he countered. “Besides the death of that kid he sold drugs to, he’s going to face life or execution. The State of Louisiana doesn’t take well to cop killers. So he’s automatically more dangerous, because he’s got more to lose than usual if he gets caught. He also has a very powerful friend. It took money to arrange that escape. You have to wonder who wants him out of police custody and why.”

“This is all very interesting,” she drawled, in a tone that said it was anything but. “But it has nothing to do with me. If LeFrenz has that much at stake, the last thing he’s going to do is come out of hiding to contact me. I was cooperating with your interrogation. He’s got no reason to trust me.”

“You’re thinking logically, in terms of what makes sense to you. You’re not thinking like a man who has always taken everything he’s ever wanted. One who sees no reason to deny himself anything.” He gave her a moment to digest that before adding, “And based on the way he acted at the hospital, what he wants right now is you.”

She rubbed her arms, where an involuntary shiver had prickled her skin. Tremaine was reaching, she told herself firmly. He had no evidence to suggest such a thing, only supposition. But she couldn’t shake the idea that twice today she’d had unwelcome visitors in her apartment. If LeFrenz wanted to, what would prevent him from being the third?

As if he’d read the thought, Tremaine said, “You need to call a security consultant and take a few extra precautions around here.”

“I will.” She meant it. And if the extra precautions kept her father from entering her apartment illegally, she’d consider that a bonus.

“Good. You need to be careful at the hospital, too. Do you drive?”

“Of course.”

“Start taking taxis. It’ll be more expensive, but at least you won’t have to worry about having a stowaway waiting for you in your back seat or about having to cross a dark parking lot at night.” His tone was brisk, as if handing out such stark advice was commonplace for him. “Don’t go anywhere alone, and when you’re home, don’t let anyone in. I’ll still be working the case, so I’m not going to be able to look out for you around the clock.”

“That’s okay, I’ll…” His meaning hit her then, and she swung around, narrowed her gaze at him. “Who asked you to look out for me?”

“No one. But I’m going to be sticking close, in any case. I’m betting that sooner or later, LeFrenz is going to come looking for you. And when he does, I’ll be around to nail him.”

The sheer audacity of the statement had her gaping at him, while a little sprint of alarm tore up her spine. “If you think I’m going to live my life under armed guard because of some crazy intuition of yours, you’re seriously deluded.”

He gave her a crooked smile, further distracting her. It softened his face, lent it the charm she knew he was capable of and almost diminished the resolve in his expression. Almost. “Relax, it won’t be for long. Just until LeFrenz is picked up again.”

“No,” she pronounced firmly, with a sense of déjà vu. Was it only twenty minutes ago that she’d been telling her father the same thing? “I’m not going along with this, and there’s no point, anyway. I’m rarely home. Even if LeFrenz did come calling, he probably wouldn’t find me here.”

“Your father did.”

Her mouth opened, snapped shut again. The irrefutable logic of the remark elicited a snarl of feelings best left untangled. Steering clear of them, she reached for calm. “Look, if LeFrenz is as smart as you claim, he’s got to realize that you’ll be expecting him to show up here. Which means I’m the one person he’ll steer clear of.”

Judging from the unyielding expression on his face, he remained unconvinced. “I didn’t say he was smart. But he is an arrogant punk who’s gotten away with murder. He’ll contact you all right, eventually. And when he does, I’m going to be here.”

His words and the accompanying visual image sent a sneaky blade of panic slicing through her. It was ironic that that the thought of being accosted by an escaped suspect had less impact than did the thought of spending days in Tremaine’s presence. “That won’t be necessary. If I should hear anything from LeFrenz or see anything suspicious at all, I’ll call you right away.”

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