Suddenly she was hyperaware of how alone they were. Just the two of them. With nothing but the night around them.

“Whoever is trying to kill you won’t know you’re no longer working for PPS. And they might not care even if they do.”

“What are you saying? That I should run off to L.A., where I’ll be safe?” Cassie hadn’t realized it, but she’d been counting on Mike to back her up, to agree that staying and working with the team was the best course.

“No. It might be selfishness on my part, but I want you to stay.”

Cassie let out the breath she’d been holding. Mike wanting her in Colorado, especially for selfish reasons, meant more than she could say. Since that morning when she’d lost her hearing, she’d dreamed of finding a man who would treat her as a partner. A man who believed she was his equal. “I guess I need to figure out where I’m going to stay.”

“I have an idea. And since my original assignment with PPS is over, I might be in the market for something new.”

“Or something old, like protecting me?”

“I have the feeling protecting you will never get old.”

Special Assignment
Ann Voss Peterson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Denise Zaza and Allison Lyons. Thanks for inviting me to contribute to this fun series!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, Ann Voss Peterson wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasn’t a practical choice—one needs to earn a living. So Ann found various jobs, including proofreading legal transcripts, working with quarter horses and washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination—romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at ann@annvosspeterson.com or visit her Web site at www.annvosspeterson.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Detective Mike Lawson—Mike bleeds blue. A cop from a long line of cops, confronted with widespread corruption tainting his beloved Denver PD. Choosing personal ethics over loyalty, now he has to pay….

Cassie Allen—An overachiever all her life, Cassie was a computer whiz and an accomplished classical pianist before she graduated from high school. But after losing her hearing, Cassie set out to prove she is just like anyone else.

Evangeline Prescott—Evangeline likes to give Prescott Personal Security employees the opportunity to prove themselves. But when Cassie’s life is threatened, Evangeline pulls out the stops to make sure she’s safe.

The Dirty Three—Trio of Denver PD officers arrested for stealing from drug dealers. Now they want revenge.

Deputy Chief Wade Lawson—Mike’s father can’t forgive his son.

Detective Tim Grady—Mike’s partner is the only cop he can trust.

Milo Kardascian—The CEO has an old grudge against Mike.

James Durgin—Is the millionaire afraid for his life or playing tricks?

Contents

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

No amount of booze could wipe a conscience clean. Not that Mike Lawson hadn’t given it one hell of a shot tonight.

He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling in the direction of the fleabag motel next door to the Beer-ly Alive Tavern. Gravel crunched and scuffed under his boots, the sound brittle as breaking glass in the cool April night. Not that he could feel the temperature. His nose and lips were numb as a plastic mask.

He groped in his pocket and pulled out a room key on one of those old-fashioned plastic paddles. No key cards at this place. At least he had brains enough to check into a room before bellying up to attempt to suck the worm out of a bottle of mescal. He sure as hell didn’t need to risk driving back to the ranch. As a cop, Mike had seen what happened when booze and cars mixed. He didn’t need to add vehicular manslaughter to his list of sins. That list was long enough already.

“God, I was hoping you’d climb behind the wheel, Lawson.” A voice ground out from the shadows. The light from a nearby post gleamed off a shaved scalp. “I’d love to watch the boys slap the cuffs on you and jam an intoximeter tube down your throat.”

Even in his inebriated state, Mike recognized the voice. His ears started to pound. “Aren’t you in prison yet, Fisher?” He tried to hold his head steady and squinted into the shadows.

Three men stood next to his pickup truck. Fisher, Stevens and Rodriguez. The Curly, Larry and Moe of the Denver PD. If Mike had been sober, he’d have noticed them the moment he stepped into the parking lot.

“You think you’re such a goddamn hero, don’t you?” Stevens swaggered forward. He balled his hands into fists. The tendons in his wiry arms stood out with iron-pumping definition. “You didn’t even wait for us to go to trial before trying to sell your rat-bastard lies to Mr. Movie Star.”

The pounding in Mike’s ears grew louder, making his molars ache.

“Mr. Dead Movie Star,” added the Moe of the group, Rodriguez. “Too bad for you.”

Mike inhaled cool, dry air. He hadn’t approached Nick Warner. It had been Warner who’d come up with the idea of putting Mike’s story on the silver screen. Mike had told Warner’s people to forget it every single one of the half-dozen times they’d called. Unfortunately, Hollywood megastars weren’t used to hearing the word no. And when the film festival rolled around, Warner had shown up in Denver, as if challenging Mike to say no to that famous face in person.

Nick Warner had been shot to death before Mike had gotten the chance.

Mike turned away from the cops the Denver Post had dubbed “the Dirty Three” and kept his feet moving toward his motel room. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Hollywood and the Post might think he was a hero for cleaning up corruption in the Denver PD, but he sure as hell didn’t. He was more inclined to agree with his old man’s assessment.

Traitor.

Not that he’d had much of a choice. Not if he wanted to uphold the law. Not if he wanted to do the right thing.

Either way, he had spent the night striving to forget everything that had happened in the past few months…hell, everything that had happened in the past twenty years. And the last thing he wanted was to ruin a good drunk by strolling down memory lane with the dirty three.

“Trying to run away? Can’t face us without Internal Affairs by your side?” Rodriguez taunted. He nodded to the others.

On cue, Fisher stepped into his path, his line-backer shoulders blocking sight of the motel. Stevens and Rodriguez positioned themselves on either side.

Run away? If only he could. “Going to bed. Been a long day.”

“Not as long as it’s going to get,” Fisher said.

Mike tipped his head back to meet Fisher’s eyes. The parking lot seemed to sway under his feet.

“How much did you get for selling your story?” Rodriguez again.

“Who says I sold it?”

“The kind of money Hollywood throws around? You sold it.”

Mike shook his head. Mistake. The whole world swirled around him. Of course they didn’t believe he’d turned down the money. That’s what had gotten them in trouble in the first place. Money. Greed. That’s why they couldn’t resist ripping off drug dealers. Easy cash, no victims. Not victims who didn’t deserve what they got, at any rate. If it wasn’t for greed, Fisher, Stevens and Rodriguez would still be on the job instead of on suspension awaiting the outcome of an investigation.

“We want a piece of that Hollywood cash.”

“Can’t help you.”

Fisher balled a bus-sized hand into a fist. “You will.”

“Or what? You going to assault me? You going to beat me to a pulp?” He was in a bad enough position already without taunting them, but he couldn’t help it.

White teeth glowed against Fisher’s dark face. “I don’t see any witnesses.”

True enough.

It was too late for traffic, yet still two hours shy of bar time. Mike was screwed. Not that he didn’t deserve a beating. Hell, he’d deserved it since that afternoon when he was seventeen years old.

He focused on Fisher. He might as well get it over with, and the man mountain seemed most likely to end things quickly. Swaying slightly, he fisted a hand and smashed it straight into Fisher’s nose.

The big man stepped backward, a bellow breaking from his lips.

Mike stumbled forward, carried by his own momentum, and ran smack into Fisher’s return punch. He struggled to keep his balance, just as Rodriguez landed a punch to his kidney and Fisher thrust an elbow into his eye.

He hit the ground.

A boot connected with his mouth. Another slammed above his eye. Blow after blow bruised his ribs, his gut, his legs. He gasped for breath, taking in nothing but dust. Blood flooded his mouth, turning dust to mud, sticky and hot.

Ironic that his beating came at the hands of brothers he had betrayed. Brothers he’d let down.

Fitting.

Another kick landed square, reverberating through his head, making his brain flicker to black.

Chapter Two

The whistling twitter of a bird cut through Mike’s aching head, loud as a police siren. He considered lifting his head, then thought better of the idea. Every muscle in his body hurt. Gravel gouged his cheek and his mouth tasted like something had crawled in and died.

Maybe something had.

Gritting his teeth against the pounding in his skull, he forced his lids to open. Well, one lid. The other wouldn’t budge, his eye swollen and aching to high hell.

The soft light of dawn glowed over the parking lot. Memories from the night before filtered through his sluggish mind. The argument with his dad. Shot after shot of mescal. The pummeling at the hands and boots of the Dirty Three.

A lovely evening all around.

Summoning what courage he had, he lifted his head from the gravel. Agony shot down the back of his neck. His stomach swirled in protest. But finally, breathing as if he’d just run ten miles, he worked his way to his feet and wobbled across the remaining ten feet to his motel-room door. Leaning against the jamb, he groped his pockets.

No key.

He’d had it after he left the bar. He was sure of it. He remembered holding the plastic key fob in his hand. Before he ran into his not-so-good buddies on the force, before they beat the crap out of him.

He swayed, brushing the door. It swung inward. Open.

Mike tensed. Darkness veiled the room’s interior, but he could still make out the dark shape of his duffel, lying on the bed where he’d left it. A pair of jeans trailed from the open bag and draped onto the floor. If some bum had found the key in the lot and let himself in, he might still be inside. What Mike wouldn’t give to have his weapon right now. Too bad he’d left it in the duffel. The duffel that someone had obviously ransacked.

He flattened himself against the door jamb and pushed the door wide.

He waited for a beat. Two beats. Three. No sound came from the room. No movement.

Here goes nothing. He moved into the doorway and peered inside.

The place seemed vacant enough. But the evidence that someone had gone through his things couldn’t be more clear. The change of clothes and toothbrush Mike had shoved in the duffel were strewn across the bed. His razor glinted from where it lay on the worn carpet. And he didn’t have to search through the shell of the duffel to see the worst of it—his service pistol was gone.

“UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, you’re on administrative leave pending investigation. I’m sorry, Lawson.”

Mike squinted at Tim Grady’s face through his swollen eye. Suspended for losing his gun. Stuck in a damn hospital room overnight for observation. Sorry was the right word. As in Mike Lawson was one sorry-assed son-of-a-bitch. “I suppose a lot of guys are finding this pretty funny.”

“Well…” Tim Grady grinned, exposing the wide gap between his front teeth.

Mike suppressed a chuckle, afraid it would hurt his face, his head, his neck. Even though he’d worked with Grady for nearly three years, that gap in his partner’s smile still cracked him up at the oddest times. It was endearing. Disarming. And it had come in handy more than once when they’d had to play good cop, bad cop with a suspect. Once Grady flashed that grin, he was everybody’s friend. “Did the lieutenant think to ask the Dirty Three if they happened to come across my gun? Say, after they got tired of beating on me and let themselves into my motel room?”

“I don’t know about the LT, but I did a little nosing around. Off the record.”

Mike tried to raise an eyebrow in silent question, but the gesture turned into more of a flinch and groan. “And?”

“They say they didn’t touch your key. That some lowlife must have come across you at bar time, taken the key and let himself into your motel room.”

“And you believe them?”

“Like hell.” Grady canted his head to one side. “Still, I don’t see that taking your Sig buys them much.”

“Makes me look bad.”

“You did a pretty good job of that without their help. Why were you trying to drown yourself last night anyway? And what made you stupid enough to throw the first punch?”

Mike rested his head back on his pillow. “Damn. What the hell am I doing stuck here? All I need is a few stitches and a pack of ice.”

Grady shook his head. “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine with me. Take the time the lieutenant gave you. Get your head straight. God knows the time I took after Janey died sure helped me. Besides, I don’t want some messed-up cop with a death wish watching my back, thank you very much.” Grady smiled, but even that gap couldn’t mitigate the hard ring of his words.

Mike closed his aching eyes. Grady had been through hell with his wife’s illness and subsequent death and yet he’d pulled himself together. So why couldn’t Mike seem to manage it?

Suspended from the job, Mike had nothing but time. Too bad all the time in the world wouldn’t change anything. He’d had twenty years to try to chip away at the guilt that calcified inside him, and if anything it had grown harder, despite his best efforts to always do the right thing. Time might have helped Grady, but for Mike a few weeks of vacation wasn’t going to make a dent.

“Excuse me. Detective Lawson?” A mellow female voice cut through Mike’s thoughts.

He opened his eyes.

An elegant blonde stood in the doorway, her long wavy hair falling over the shoulders of her light gray business suit. She skewered him with a cool blue gaze.

“Mrs. Prescott.” Mike hadn’t seen Evangeline Prescott since he’d last worked as liaison between the Denver PD and her company, Prescott Personal Securities, on a protected-witness case over six months ago. She was a classy woman who ran a classy organization. And although she had suffered the loss of her husband, Robert, in a plane crash two years before, she, too, had managed to pull her life together after tragedy.

“Please, call me Evangeline.” She stepped into the room. Behind her, and five inches shorter, a woman with curly auburn hair that just brushed her shoulders followed. A concerned look flashed across her pretty features as she took in his battered face.

Mike’s adrenaline spiked.

“You remember Cassie Allen, Detective?” Evangeline said.

As if he would forget Cassie. As if he could. He forced his aching face into some semblance of a smile. Raising his hands, he formed his stiff fingers into the shapes that were still second nature to him, even after all these years. Hi, Cassie.

She returned his smile for a split second, then pressed her lips tight and studied the pattern of tile on the floor.

She didn’t look happy to be there, that was for sure. A fact that bothered him more than it should. It wasn’t as if they’d had anything beyond a working relationship on the occasions he’d dealt with Prescott Personal Securities. But still… “Evangeline and Cassie, this is Detective Tim Grady.”

“I’m sorry if we’re interrupting.” Evangeline glanced at Grady.

Grady thrust himself free of the wall. “Nah, I gotta get going. Bad guys wait for no one and all that. Nice meeting the two of you.” With a gap-toothed grin, Grady was gone.

Evangeline focused on Mike. “I don’t want to waste your time or ours, Detective, so I’ll tell you why we’re here. I want you to work for me.”

Surely the pounding in his head had interfered with his hearing. “Work for you?”

“The grapevine has it that you’re on leave from the police department.”

“Bad news sure travels fast.”

“And whenever a door closes, a window opens,” she said, matching his cliché. “I need someone who is honest. Someone I can trust.”

“For what?”

“A very sensitive case. There’s a briefing at our offices tomorrow morning. I’ll give you the details then. If you can’t make it, Cassie will fill you in. You’ll be working with her.” Evangeline watched his expression as though she knew full well how much the prospect of working with Cassie would appeal to him.

He looked past those knowing blue eyes and focused on Cassie’s warm brown ones.

Cassie shook her head with a snap of frustration. No doubt she’d read Evangeline’s lips and had her own thoughts about the assignment. Her hands flew, signing her thoughts behind her boss’s back. She wants you to be my bodyguard. The poor little deaf girl’s babysitter. A babysitter I don’t need. Feel free to turn her down. It’s not a good use of your time.

Mike frowned at Evangeline. It didn’t add up. None of it. Even if Cassie was right, and Evangeline merely wanted someone to look after her cute little computer whiz, that didn’t explain why she would pick him. “You shouldn’t believe all my recent press. I’m no hero.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t believe everything I read.”

“Then why me?” He gestured to his face. “I’m a drunk.”

“One night of drinking doesn’t a drunk make. I know more about you than you think, Detective Lawson.”

“Then you know that half the police department hates me. You know I’m suspended for losing my gun. Surely you can come up with a better bodyguard prospect at PPS.”

“I’m sure I can. But not for this case. I trust you. You’re honest and I know you’ll remain honest…even when it’s inconvenient.”

Inconvenient? If only that was all betraying fellow cops was, an inconvenience.

“But that’s only part of it.”

He waited for her to go on.

“You’ve worked with Cassie before. You’re able to communicate.”

You can talk to the poor little deaf girl. Cassie’s fingers stabbed the air. Really, I don’t need you. I can handle this myself.

“I know some sign language and I can imagine the rest.” Evangeline glanced at Cassie. One side of her lips tilted up in a knowing smile. She turned her focus back to Mike. “What Cassie doesn’t realize is that I would provide a bodyguard for any technician I had working on this particular case. Hearing or not. It just works well that the two of you can communicate. And that you worked well together in the past.”

Working with Cassie wasn’t his concern. That part sounded great. Too good to be true. And that’s what worried him. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

“We can work around that.”

“I don’t think you quite get the picture. The Denver Post might think I’m a hero, but half the police department would like to see me fall on my face.”

Evangeline waved away his protest with a manicured hand. “I know you’re no longer in a position to be my go-between with the Denver PD. That’s not what I’m hiring you to do.”

“You don’t get it. Some are so eager to see me fall, they’re waiting in line to give me a shove.”

“Then you’ll have to keep your balance. I’ll add that to your job duties.”

It was impossible to argue with this woman. But then she and her late husband, Robert Prescott, hadn’t gotten where they were by taking no for an answer. It seemed there was a lot of that going around. “What are my duties? If I were to accept, that is.”

“Cassie will be working on deciphering an encrypted disk. It’s very important. Very sensitive. I want you to provide security while she does the work.”

See? Babysitter, Cassie signed. Tell her to forget it.

He tried to keep his expression neutral. He had a bad feeling about this. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said a good portion of the Denver PD would like to make him pay for blowing the whistle on the Dirty Three’s racket of stealing profits from drug dealers. Not to mention the Dirty Three themselves. He doubted they would be satisfied with one friendly little beating. They’d find any way they could to make his life as miserable as he’d made theirs. And he sure as hell didn’t want Cassie to get caught in the crossfire. “I still don’t understand why you don’t deal with this in-house. Why hire freelance bodyguards?”

“Not bodyguards. Just you. Just this case.”

Cassie shook her head. There’s going to be nothing for you to do but sit and stare at me while I work.

He stifled a smile. The only way that argument would succeed was if she was trying to talk him into taking the job.

Tell her no, Cassie signed.

“I can arrange for someone to fill in if you need a day or two to clear your schedule,” Evangeline said.

His schedule? What a laugh. Though he supposed he could fill a lot of hours drinking and feeling sorry for himself. “It’s not that.”

“I’m prepared to beat your salary at the Denver PD.”

“It’s not money, either.”

Evangeline stepped forward so Cassie was fully behind her. “We need you, Detective. Cassie needs you. If I can’t rely on you to protect her, I’m going to have to find someone else to decode that disk.”

“If the damn thing is so dangerous, that might not be a bad idea.”

“Okay. You tell her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can tell Cassie she’s off the case. You can tell her her inability to hear makes it too dangerous for her to do this job without someone to watch her back. You tell her.”

A lump the size of a fist tightened in his gut. During the past cases he’d worked with Cassie, he’d come to understand how important her work was to her. How vital it was that she was treated like everyone else. How much she deplored being singled out or coddled for her disability. And how much the news that she was being taken off this obviously important case would kill her.

But being killed figuratively was better than being killed for real.

He eyed Cassie and formed the words with his hands. If this case is so dangerous, maybe you shouldn’t take it on.

She shook her head. I’m decrypting the disk. I’m the best at PPS when it comes to decryption. I’ll be careful. I’m not stupid.

No, she was definitely not stupid. He gave her a smile.

“Take the job, Detective,” Evangeline prodded. “We’ll work around the problems with those few officers at the Denver PD. Cassie needs you.”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t need me.”

“Okay, maybe she doesn’t need you. But you can’t argue with the fact that right now, you need this case.”

The macho cop inside him wanted to say he didn’t need this case or any other. That he didn’t need anything…or anybody. But Mike knew that was a lie. He’d been struggling since he’d informed Internal Affairs about the Dirty Three. Struggling with guilt, with his damn conscience, with the fantasy of drinking his problems away. Last night proved that. The only thing that had kept him together was the job. And now that he didn’t have that, he didn’t have anything.

He looked past Evangeline and focused on Cassie. He’d been attracted to her curly auburn hair and sassy little body since he’d first laid eyes on her. But it was more than that. The whole act of talking to her, using his hands to form letters, watching her convey her thoughts with gestures and expressions…being around her took him back in time. Before the horrible mistake he’d made that summer day when he was seventeen. Before the guilt and self-loathing. She made him feel that he had a chance to rewrite the past.

And how could he pass up an opportunity like that?

Chapter Three

“Who’s that?”

Cassie watched Angel’s black-lipsticked lips form the words between chews on her ever-present wad of gum. It was amazing the gum didn’t get caught on the silver ball piercing her tongue.

Cassie shrugged and brought her attention back to the copy machine Angel had managed to break for the third time this month. She had an important case to attend to, protocols to decipher, algorithms to test. She didn’t have time for fixing machines and speculating about the face on the reception area’s security monitor. Knowing Angel, she could be talking about the UPS man and had just forgotten what he looked like since the delivery he’d made the day before.

“I’d sure like to meet him. He’s hot.”

Not the UPS man. He was cute, but at five-foot-nothing and prematurely balding, Cassie doubted Angel would call him hot. Of course, if he traded in his brown shorts for black and threw in multiple piercings, who knew?

Angel grabbed Cassie’s arm, long black talons poking through her cotton sweater. “You got to look, Cass. Tell me what you think.”

Cassie sighed. There was no use ignoring Angel at times. The PPS receptionist was a force. A force that broke copy machines and had apparently decided Cassie was her buddy. Probably because Cassie didn’t talk back.

Abandoning the copier, Cassie stuck her head around the cubicle wall separating the copy/fax area from the rest of reception.

Mike Lawson peered from the security monitor. Purple bruises covered his jaw and crept up one cheek. One eye was ringed in black and purple like a cartoon cliché. And other than the purple and black and angry red scrapes, he was pale as the snowcaps on the mountains. He looked like the undead. No wonder Angel found him hot.

Not that Cassie did or anything.

She tried to ignore the warm tremor that danced in her stomach seemingly every time she saw the tall, dark and serious cop. There was only one explanation for his presence at PPS this morning. He must have decided to take Evangeline up on her job offer.

Great.

Evangeline wouldn’t be this concerned about a hearing technician deciphering a disk. William Leonard, or Lenny as everyone called him, the senior technician at PPS had worked on countless intricate cases and never once had Evangeline insisted he have a babysitter.

A flush of anger heated her cheeks. Would she never be allowed to show what she was capable of doing? Would well-meaning people always insist on coddling the deaf girl?

She glanced at Angel. She didn’t know what the receptionist was waiting for, but she hadn’t taken a step out of the copy area. She set the toner cartridge she was holding on a nearby countertop and turned to Angel, making her signs so simple and clear that even Angel could understand. Why don’t you greet him?

Angel shook her head hard, her black, spiked do so stiff with spray not a single hair moved. “Me?”

Angel picked the damnedest times to start being shy. It’s your job. You’re the receptionist.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right.” Angel ducked out of the printing and fax area and scampered to her desk.

As soon as Angel left, Cassie made her way down a short hall to the glassed-in area that protected the servers and most of the tech equipment at PPS from the dust and hustle of the offices and cubicles where the agents worked. She slipped behind a bank of servers.

She wasn’t ready to face Mike Lawson. Just one glimpse of him in the reception desk monitor made her feel as jittery as a teenage girl. Not the feeling she was after. This was the first case she’d worked on solo, the first time Evangeline had trusted her with something really big. She needed to prove she could do as good a job as any hearing person. A better job. And being around Mike Lawson, having him babysit her, didn’t make her feel exactly capable.

A gentle hand tapped her shoulder.

She whirled around to face Lenny, her brilliant coworker who all but ran the technology department. His fire-red hair stuck out in several spots, as if he’d slept at his desk last night instead of going home. Again. No one was as dedicated as Lenny.

“Who are you hiding from?” Lenny’s lips formed the words.

My bodyguard, she signed.

He gave her an odd look. Lenny might be brilliant, but he wasn’t as well versed in relating to humans as he was relating to computers. He probably thought she really was hiding from her bodyguard.

Well, wasn’t she?

She stepped out from behind the servers. Just kidding, she signed.

Lenny nodded as if he still didn’t understand. “It’s cool you have a bodyguard. I mean you work to protect other people’s bodies, it’s about time someone protects yours, right? You’re lucky.” He shrugged a skinny shoulder.

Lucky? Her fingers raced. I don’t want to be lucky. I want to be respected.

The grin fell from Lenny’s freckled face and he stared at her blankly.

She took a deep breath. Whenever she got upset, she signed too fast for anyone at PPS to keep up. Even poor Lenny the genius couldn’t keep track of her flying fingers. But she hated speaking out loud. Just the thought that other people could hear her voice and she couldn’t made her feel uncomfortably out of control.

She let out a sigh. Never mind. I’m just blowing off steam.

Lenny offered her an awkward smile, as if he still didn’t understand her but didn’t want to be rude enough to say so, and shuffled back to his workstation.

Cassie watched him go, guilt clamping down on her shoulders. Of course Lenny would think having a bodyguard was cool. He was working on sensitive projects, too, yet he had no bodyguard. Further evidence Evangeline was going out of her way to take care of the deaf girl.

The change in air flow alerted her to the open door. She glanced over to find herself face-to-face with Mike Lawson.

Angel was right. Even with the battered face and swollen eye, he was hot. A fact that only made this moment all the more awkward.

Don’t look so excited, he signed.

She gave him a frown.

Which way to the large conference room?

The briefing. Of course. She’d been so shaken about Mike Lawson’s appearance, she’d all but forgotten the case. Her first big case. Her chance to prove what she could do.

She marched to the conference room, feeling Mike’s presence behind her even though she couldn’t hear his footfalls on the terra-cotta tile. She pushed through the conference room’s double doors. The large conference table stretched in front of them, empty chairs ringing its circumference.

Where were the other agents? Had she gotten the wrong conference room?

Evangeline breezed through the door behind them. “Shall we get started?”

Cassie frowned in her boss’s direction. Where is everyone?

“The disk’s decryption concerns only the two of you. Please take a seat. We need to get started.” Evangeline focused on Mike. “Glad you decided to take me up on my offer, Detective. After yesterday, I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Funny. I got the feeling you were far too sure.”

Cassie tore her gaze from Mike’s lips and slipped into the closest chair. Mike folded himself into the seat next to her. Evangeline strode to the head of the table and punched a few buttons on the laptop. An image materialized on the screen in front of them. Movie star Nick Warner gazed from the screen with fierce determination in a famous scene from his action film Sayonara, Baby.

Cassie felt Mike shift beside her.

Evangeline gave Mike a pointed look. “I’m sure the two of you have heard about Nick Warner’s death.”

Mike glowered.

Cassie didn’t know what was going on, but it was clear Mike wasn’t expecting Evangeline’s reference to the deceased movie star. And he wasn’t happy about it.

His lips tightened as they formed the words. “Is that why you wanted me on this case? Something to do with Warner?”

Evangeline returned his gaze unfazed. “I wanted you on the case for the reasons I gave you. Of course, any knowledge you have about Nick Warner will be appreciated.”

“I don’t know anything about him.”

“I heard he came to the Denver film festival at least partially to meet with you.”

“I never spoke to him.”

“You did talk to people who worked for him, though.” Evangeline’s expression made it clear she was not asking a question but stating a fact.

It seemed there was more to Evangeline’s selection of Mike as her bodyguard than his knowledge of American Sign Language. Much more. Cassie watched Mike for an answer.

“I talked to them long enough to tell them I was not going to let them option my story, no matter what they paid me.”

“Who did you talk to? Specifically?”

Mike shifted in his chair, as if the answer made him uncomfortable. “Mitchell Caruthers.”

Evangeline nodded. “You know, Caruthers set Nick Warner up to be killed?”

“It doesn’t surprise me.”

“He endangered Nick, his wife and their four-year-old daughter.”

Cassie had heard the talk about Nick’s wife and little girl. Even neck deep in computers, she couldn’t miss that story. Especially the gossip about the budding relationship between the widowed Mrs. Warner and PPS agent Jack Sanders.

“Specifically, Detective, do you remember Caruthers mentioning anything to you about a list?”

“A list? A list of what?”

“That’s what we need to know.”

“Listen, I don’t know anything about Caruthers beyond the fact that he said he worked for Nick Warner. He said nothing to me about a list.”

Cassie eyed Evangeline. How did you hear about this list? she signed.

“Caruthers told Jack.” Evangeline glanced at Mike. “Agent Jack Sanders, that is. He referred to it as a list of names. Jack thinks it has something to do with investments Caruthers made with money he stole from Nick Warner. Unfortunately that’s about all we know. We have no idea if this list contains the names of investors, or the names of companies or what exactly. But I aim to find out.”

Is that what is on the disk? Cassie signed the question.

“Perhaps. Perhaps it’s something else entirely. The disk showed up at our office after Nick Warner’s death. But we don’t know who sent it. Or what data it contains. I guess you’ll have to decipher it to find out how it’s connected to this list. Or if it’s connected at all.”

“But you think it is connected,” Mike said.

Evangeline nodded. “The timing was too much of a coincidence. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Neither did Cassie.

“There’s more.” Evangeline focused on Mike. “Caruthers mentioned a specific name in connection to all of this. Milo Kardascian.”

Mike frowned. “The CEO of Vasco Pharmaceuticals.”

“The same.” She tapped a key on her computer and the screens in front of them flashed a picture of the multimillionaire.

Cassie recognized the man’s prominent flat nose and heavy jowls. PPS had provided security at parties he’d attended. She’d worked on the technical support end of the surveillance teams, though she didn’t know much about Kardascian personally. Just that the hard look in his eyes had given her the creeps. How is he involved in this? she asked.

Evangeline focused her attention on Cassie. “That’s what we need to find out. He might know something about this list, or something about the cipher or ciphers needed to read that disk. I’ve had no luck reaching Mr. Kardascian, but I have it from a reliable source that he’s vacationing in his cabin west of Denver. I need you to visit him in person, find out what he knows.”

Cassie straightened in her seat. I can go while the computer is running my next set of algorithms.

“The two of you can go.”

The two of them? Wasn’t that overkill? What was Mike supposed to do? Hold her hand? I don’t need a bodyguard to talk to the CEO of a respected company.

Evangeline shook her head. “Actually, you might be happy to have that bodyguard around Mr. Kardascian. Isn’t that right, Detective Lawson?”

Cassie turned to look at Mike.

A muscle tensed along his jaw. “Don’t tell me. You also brought me aboard because I’m acquainted with Milo Kardascian, or is that just a coincidence, too?”

Evangeline gave a calm smile in answer. “Any additional questions or comments?”

Cassie had dozens of comments. Though she doubted any of them would change Evangeline’s mind.

“Good. Report back to me after you talk to Kardascian. Don’t let her out of your sight, Detective. And, Cassie?”

The terse look on Evangeline’s face caused a hitch in Cassie’s stomach. She raised her eyebrows at her boss, conveying the fact that she understood. And was listening.

“Do your job. Nothing more. I need you back here in one piece to run those decryption programs.”

CASSIE WHIRLED to face Mike as soon as they pulled out of the PPS underground parking garage. What do you know about Milo Kardascian? What isn’t Evangeline telling me?

Kardascian. Not one of Mike’s favorite topics.

Hands on the steering wheel, he turned his head toward Cassie, to give her a clear view of his lips. “He’s not a nice guy.”

She stared, waiting for him to go on.

“He has a nasty habit of beating up women. When I was still on patrol, I was called to his house at the Polo Grounds a few times.” He didn’t need to tell her the rest. Ancient history. And not one of his prouder moments.

He caught the movement of Cassie’s fingers from the corner of his eye.

Then he’ll be defensive around you. I’ll ask him the questions.

He’d known from the first time he’d met Cassie that she was independent. He hadn’t realized she had a chip on her shoulder the size of the Rocky Mountain range. “Listen, I’m betting a self-absorbed bastard like Kardascian doesn’t know one word in ASL. How are you going to ask him anything?”

“I can talk when I have to.”

Her voice sounded low and rich. The inflections were a little flat, but her voice was still the sexiest he’d ever heard. He’d forgotten Cassie hadn’t always been deaf, unlike Tommy, who’d been deaf from birth. “Why don’t you talk more? You have a great voice.”

I don’t like not knowing how I sound, she said, back to using her hands.

“You sound beautiful. Sexy.” He didn’t know what had made him admit that out loud. He and Cassie were working together, not dating. He needed to keep things all business between them. And besides, even if something could happen between them, he didn’t need to add letting Cassie down to his list of screwups. But even knowing all that, the words had slipped out and he hadn’t wanted to bite them back.

She shook her head as if impatient with him. Regardless of how my voice sounds, I can make him understand me just fine. Don’t worry.

At least one of them had her head together. At least where aimless flirting was concerned. “Kardascian not being able to understand you is only one problem with you questioning him.”

I can handle him.

Maybe she could, maybe she couldn’t. Nothing against Cassie, but he wasn’t about to let her try. “It’s my job to protect you, Cassie. You’re going to have to let me do it.”

Her fingers flew with lightning speed. I’ve been working on the disk. I know more of the background on the case. I will be the one asking the questions. I’m good at my job, Detective. Just because I can’t hear—

“Whoa. Wait a minute. You might want to twist this into an argument about your deafness, but that has nothing to do with why I don’t want you near Kardascian. He’s one brutal bastard. Pure and simple. I can protect you. And damn it, I’m going to. You’re in charge of decryption, and I’ll take care of Kardascian and anything else that’s dangerous. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Evangeline.”

She crinkled her eyebrows and turned her head away, peering out the window at the foothills and gullies scrolling past. Auburn curls draped over her cheek, shielding her face from view.

So much for making his point. He wasn’t sure she’d chosen to take in a word he said. With a hearing woman, he could make her listen, or at least drone on for his own amusement. Cassie could shut him out with the turn of her head. There was nothing he could do to bring her focus back to him…unless he grasped her arm and physically turned her.

He pushed that idea as far from his mind as he could get it. He was attracted enough to Cassie Allen. He sure didn’t need to add physical contact into the equation.

The pavement curved south and climbed sharply. He focused on the road ahead, squinting into the sun. Pain stabbed his swollen eye like an ice pick jamming into his brain. At least he no longer had a hangover. Yesterday the sun would have killed him.

At least that would have made Cassie happy.

Twenty silent minutes later, they crested the ridge. He located the address and wound down the long driveway. Kardascian’s mansion hung on the side of the mountain, a log cabin with so much glass it was hard to figure out just where logs came into play. “Pharmaceuticals pay well, that’s for damn sure,” he said to himself.

He parked near the front walk and climbed from the car. By the time he’d circled to the passenger side, Cassie was out and smoothing her skirt with the palms of her hands. He stepped in front of her so she would have to look at him. “Are we on the same page?”

She pressed her lips together. Setting her chin, she stepped around him and marched up the stairs.

So much for their argument on the drive. He started after her, drawing even before she reached the front door. Extending a finger, he stabbed the doorbell.

The chime echoed through the house. The sound died, leaving only the spring chatter of birds and wind whistling through aspens and evergreen bows.

Cassie punched the doorbell, the chimes ringing a second time.

Still no answer. Mike stepped through the carefully landscaped bed surrounding the front step and cupped his hand against the garage window to shield the sun’s reflection. The red gleam of a convertible Corvette shone from one of the bays. A heavy-duty SUV hulked in another. And in the third, a chromedecked Harley. Only a fraction of his vehicle collection. The rest must be at his high-rise condo in Denver, the place he’d moved after signing his house at the Polo Grounds over to his ex-wife. Or maybe one of his other half-dozen homes.

Whatever his vehicle situation, the lack of empty garage bays didn’t mean he wasn’t driving a different expensive vehicle. Or that he didn’t use a car service. But there was something else about the garage that bothered Mike. Something that didn’t feel right.

The door. He looked closer. Sure enough, the door from garage to house was open. A minute ticked by, yet no movement came from the house. He focused on that open door. A smudge of something marred the pristine white steel just below the knob. Something brownish…

Blood?

There were a myriad of other possible explanations—dirt, chocolate, who knew what? But that didn’t explain the bad feeling chomping at the back of Mike’s neck like an attack dog. He signed to Cassie. Go back to the car. I’m going to take a look around.

Cassie shook her head.

Damn. He might be paranoid, but he couldn’t take the chance. The last thing he needed was for Cassie to get caught up in something bad. He wasn’t going to let that happen. This could be serious, Cassie. And you’re unarmed. I might have had my badge suspended, but at least I have my personal weapon. You’re going to have to do what I say. Go back to the car, lock yourself in and call 9-1-1. If anything happens, get the hell out of here. He tossed her the keys.

She caught them, hesitated, then nodded.

Mike waited until he saw her climb into the car, slam the door and hit the electronic locks before he circled the house.

The house’s doors were locked, windows secured. If he had a real reason to believe someone was in imminent danger inside, he’d break a window and let himself in. As it was, a hunch didn’t cut it with the law. He was already going out on a limb by calling the sheriff’s department out here all based on a brownish smudge and a bad feeling.

He circled the side of the log cabin. Four windows cut into the logs on this side of the house. He peered inside each one. A formal living room. A study. Rich earth-toned furniture, plush carpet and rough-hewn stone fireplaces decorated each space. The rooms looked spotless and utterly vacant, as if the only one who ever set foot in the place was the cleaning lady.

So why had she missed the smudge on the inside garage door?

After he’d circled about half the house, the ground fell away into a steep slope. Decking loomed overhead, arranged in three layers. The entire back of the house was glass, gleaming in the sunlight.

Mike stepped to the sliding glass door on the lowest level and peered inside. A shape loomed dark against white carpet. A prone body.

Gripping either side of the door, Mike fought the sliding door free of its lock and lifted it off the track. An alarm screamed through the house. He scanned the room for movement as he raced to the body.

Kardascian.

Blood bloomed from the millionaire’s chest, soaking his thick cotton sweatshirt and seeping into the white berber. His labored breathing rasped raw in the silence.

The bullet must have pierced a lung. The man was drowning in his own blood.

Grabbing the sweatshirt, Mike shoved it up Kardascian’s thick torso, exposing a small gunshot wound oozing blood. He needed something airtight to seal the hole in the lung. And he needed it now.

He sprang to his feet and scanned the room. Weight machines of every type imaginable dotted the space. A covered hot tub filled the adjacent room, visible through glass doors. A wet bar nestled in the corner.

Mike raced for the wet bar. He rifled through cupboards until he found a box of garbage bags. Pulling one free, he headed back to Kardascian.

Please, let him still be alive.

The CEO’s breath rasped, bubbling through blood.

Mike fitted the plastic bag tight to the wound. Centering his weight over the man, he pressed down on Kardascian’s chest. “Hold on, man. You’re going to pull through this.”

The sucking sound stopped. So far, so good. But Mike had no way of knowing how much blood was already in Kardascian’s lungs. Judging from the gurgling sound, it wasn’t a small amount.

The millionaire watched him through glassy eyes. He opened his mouth, straining for breath. Fighting. He thrashed his hands weakly, already slipping away.

Mike adjusted his weight, trying to keep up the pressure. The carpet squished beneath him. How much blood had Kardascian lost?

A gasp cut through the room.

Mike looked up and into Cassie’s rounded eyes. “Did you call for help?”

She nodded. She raced to his side, obviously eager to do something, anything to assist him. But there wasn’t anything she could do. There wasn’t anything either of them could do. Milo Kardascian was dead.

Chapter Four

Mike stood in front of Milo Kardascian’s garage and watched the Denver Police Department SUV wind around curves and down the slope on its way to the cabin. He’d already answered a slew of questions from the Jefferson County sheriff’s deputy who’d arrived on the scene first. He’d thought the worst thing that could happen at this point was to be asked to relive his failure to save Kardascian’s life one more time. He was wrong. Explaining why he was in this situation to the lieutenant promised to be even more miserable.

Denver PD? Cassie’s fingers trembled slightly as she signed, but other than that, she seemed more pulled together than he felt. Why is the Denver PD here? Isn’t this outside their jurisdiction?

It’s my lieutenant.

Cassie searched his face. Is that bad?

I wish I knew. And that was the part that was driving him nuts. He was used to being on the inside during a scene like this. Gathering evidence. Talking to the medical examiner. Having officers and experts report to him. Standing around waiting for the next bout of questions with no clue what was going on was killing him.

Especially when they seemed to be treating him as more suspect than witness.

He shifted his feet on the concrete apron in front of the garage. No point in venting all that to Cassie. She’d been through too much already this morning. She sure didn’t need more to worry about on top of it. How are you holding up?

She gave him an unconvincing smile. Fine.

Right.

Okay, not so fine. I’ve never seen someone die before. Especially someone who was murdered. And all the blood. Her shoulders hitched with a small shudder. I’m still feeling a little shaken, I guess.

Hell, who could blame her? Even though he’d seen more than his share of dead bodies, he was shuddering right along with her. Not enough to notice, but he could feel the tremor deep in his bones.

Maybe a man dying under your fingertips did that to you.

He resisted the urge to look down at his stained hands, Kardascian’s blood dark in the creases of his skin, or his jeans, the denim now as stiff as if it had been sprayed with starch. I’m sorry you had to go through all this.

I’m just glad you were there with me so I didn’t have to face it alone. One side of her lips quirked upward in some semblance of a half smile. No matter what I said before.

You’re welcome. I wish I could do more. Like get you out of here. He raked a hand through his hair. If I only knew what the hell was going on.

Maybe the lieutenant will let you know what they’ve found. Cassie focused clear eyes on the SUV, as if she believed that by positive thinking and the force of will she could influence the mind of the man inside. Maybe he’ll convince the county to let us go home.

Mike wasn’t going to hold his breath for that to happen. But he wasn’t about to dash Cassie’s hopes, either. Maybe so.

The SUV came to a stop behind the boxy, tan sheriff’s cars and three doors swung open. The LT, Tim Grady and a veteran officer named Hawley climbed out and threaded their way to the sidewalk. Grady gave Mike a gap-toothed grin, the worried lines in his forehead canceling the comic value of his smile. The lieutenant and Officer Hawley passed without a glance.

The contingent of Denver PD climbed the steps to the front entrance of the elaborate cabin and joined the huddle of sheriff’s men. The LT nodded his graying head as they filled him in.

Mike felt like crawling out of his skin. What he wouldn’t give to be part of that huddle. What he wouldn’t give to know what they were saying right now.

He eyed Cassie, then glanced back to the group of cops.

Cassie touched his arm. What? she signed.

He checked himself. It wasn’t a very nice idea. Definitely not an ethical one. And something he shouldn’t even be thinking in connection to Cassie, let alone be presenting to her. Nothing.

You’re wondering if I can read their lips?

Hell, she could read more than lips. She could read his mind. Not a good idea.

She shrugged a shoulder. A mischievous smile curved the corners of her mouth and twinkled in her eyes. Why not? If they were talking loud enough for you to overhear, wouldn’t you listen?

No, I wouldn’t, he signed.

She gave a derisive snort. Sure. And if you couldn’t avoid it, you would keep whatever it is to yourself. You wouldn’t think to tell me.

He shook his head, trying to keep his serious expression in place. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, as much as he enjoyed seeing the mischievous glint replace the shell-shocked look in Cassie’s eyes, he really couldn’t let her get any more involved than she already was. Really, Cassie, you’re tangled up enough in this mess. Besides, it’s not ethical.

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. You really are as honest as Evangeline says, aren’t you?

He looked down at the concrete apron under his feet. How in the hell was he supposed to answer that one? I’m a cop.

“Well, I’m not,” she said out loud.

When he returned his gaze to her face, he wasn’t surprised to see she was watching the deputies brief his lieutenant. A tall county sheriff’s detective with a craggy face and salt-and-pepper hair spoke slowly and deliberately. His lips had to be a piece of cake for Cassie to read, even from this distance.

So much for his worry over her getting more involved.

They determined the path of entry was through the sliding glass door in the workout room. Cassie translated what she was seeing into sign language. Never mind that we told them we came in that way, she added.

Mike couldn’t prevent a chuckle from escaping. Cassie was handling this whole ordeal with humor and attitude that surprised him. She certainly could roll with difficult circumstances. Probably better than he could.

They talked to Evangeline, Cassie continued. She confirmed that we were here to talk to Mr. Kardascian about a case for PPS…but when they asked to see her client files, she told them to get a warrant.

That Evangeline was a tough cookie. Mike would expect nothing less. The prospect of trying to get information out of her was almost enough to make him grateful he wasn’t on the investigation end of this case…almost. As long as his hunch was wrong and he wasn’t a suspect.

Officer Hawley turned away from the group. He surveyed the cabin, pausing on Mike. His eyes latched on to Cassie just as she commenced signing.

Damn.

They found something. Cassie’s fingers flew.

Mike laid a hand on her arm.

She held up a hand and nodded that she saw him, but she didn’t tear her gaze from the sheriff’s detective’s lips and she didn’t still her hands. Something in the bushes outside the glass door.

Hawley started toward them.

They found a weapon…the murder weapon…a gun… She turned to look at Mike, her eyes wide.

Oh, hell.

“What is she doing?” Hawley closed in on them. “She’s reading lips, isn’t she? She’s reporting every word.”

On the sidewalk, the cluster of cops broke up. The LT and Grady stayed on the sidewalk, two deputies headed their way.

Mike held up his hands, trying to head off the thuggish Denver PD officer. “Back off, Hawley.”

Cassie just stared at Mike as if oblivious to Hawley or the sheriff’s deputies, a stricken look on her face.

Hawley reached for Cassie’s arm. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to come with me.”

Mike took a step forward. “She doesn’t have to go anywhere.”

“Who are you to decide a damn thing, Lawson? You’re suspended. You’re not even a cop anymore. If you were ever really a cop in the first place.”

Good. At least Hawley’s focus was on him, not Cassie. “What do you mean by that?”

An ugly sneer twisted Hawley’s handsome face. “Cops don’t sell out their own.”

“Whoa. Hold on.” The county detective caught up to Hawley, shooting him a look as if to remind him he was in the county’s jurisdiction and he’d better know his place. “Your lieutenant wants to see you.”

Officer Ted Hawley might be a jerk, but he had the good sense to retreat, even though all of them knew the LT hadn’t said a word. Mike eyed the county man. “What’s going down, Detective?”

“Lawson, you need to take a trip to the sheriff’s offices with us.”

Mike’s gut plummeted. In his mind’s eye, he replayed the look Cassie had given him. Shock. Fear. He hadn’t been able to pay attention with Hawley homing in, but he thought it had something to do with the gun they’d found. The murder weapon. His gun? The service pistol he’d lost? Was that it? He eyed the detective. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Come with me and I’ll fill you in on the details.”

More like he’d interrogate him eight ways from Sunday. Damn. Mike had been wanting more information, but being the suspect in this investigation was a bit more inside than he had in mind. Next time he really had to be more careful about what he wished for. “Should I call my union representative?”

“You really want to lawyer up, Lawson? Or would you rather clear this up?”

The same question he’d ask if a suspect started making noises about calling in legal representation. Mike glanced at Cassie. Still, if he went willingly and didn’t piss the detective off, maybe he could keep Cassie out of this mess. “I’ll go. But Ms. Allen doesn’t have anything to do with this. Someone needs to take her back to the Prescott Personal Securities office.”

The county detective’s expression was a perfect blank. “Sorry. We need to talk to her, too.”

CASSIE’S FINGERS SHOOK as she signed the same thing to the blank-faced sheriff’s deputy for what had to be the fifth time. Mike Lawson didn’t kill that man.

The deputy shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll see if I can contact someone who knows sign language.”

Cassie pushed out a frustrated breath. After a few cursory questions, the deputy who had transported her to the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department in Golden had told her she was free to go. In the two hours since, she’d been trying to get someone to listen to her pleas of Mike’s innocence. Meanwhile they were raking Mike over the coals for the murder of a man he’d tried to save.

She forced her voice to work, feeling the uncertain vibration in her vocal chords. “Mike Lawson didn’t kill that man.”

He gave her a gentle smile. No, not gentle. Patronizing. Pitying. The reason she hated to speak out loud.

“You already spoke to a detective, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But he didn’t listen.”

“I assure you, he listened. And he’ll get in touch with you if he has any more questions or concerns. You gave him your contact information? Your home address?” He rounded his mouth with each word, speaking deliberately as if to a frightened child. One who couldn’t speak English. And she’d just bet that his voice was raised to the level of a shout, as well.

Cassie felt like growling. She’d bet that would inspire an interesting response in this guy. “He has my home address, my work address and every other type of contact information known to man. What he doesn’t have is the truth.”

“That is what the investigation is for, ma’am.”

“No kidding.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you expect me to do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job.” Another pitying smile and the deputy walked away.

Cassie ground her teeth. She didn’t know what she expected, either. But whatever it was, it didn’t have anything to do with a good man being blamed for a murder he didn’t commit.

The shock that had rocketed through her when she’d read the officer’s lips at the scene was still sending aftershocks through her arms and legs. Mike’s gun found at the scene…Mike’s gun recently fired… Mike’s gun…

It was ridiculous. Mike was an honest cop. Hell, he was the poster boy for honest cops. How could they think he’d killed Milo Kardascian?

A light touch on her shoulder jolted through her. She whirled around and looked into the face of one of the cops who’d been at Kardascian’s cabin. The cop she’d first seen in Mike’s hospital room. Mike’s partner, Tim Grady.

“I’m sorry to startle you.” His lips formed the words, revealing a gap-toothed smile.

Normally Cassie would have smiled back. Today she wasn’t in the mood. “Mike Lawson didn’t kill that man.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Even though she couldn’t hear her own voice, she could feel its tremble. “If you know, why is he still in there? Why are they still asking him questions?”

“This isn’t my case. It happened outside the Denver city limits. The county has jurisdiction. And they don’t know Mike like you and I do. They have to go strictly by evidence.”

“What evidence? His gun?”

Surprise widened Detective Grady’s eyes.

Cassie almost clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d forgotten she wasn’t supposed to know about the gun.

Tim Grady narrowed his eyes, studying her. “His service weapon was found at the scene. Yes.”

“But Mike didn’t even have the gun. It was stolen when he was beaten up. Wasn’t that why he was suspended?”

“The sheriff’s department can’t just take Mike’s word for that. Theoretically he could have reported it missing when he had it all along. In fact, I’m afraid that could make his situation worse.”

“How?” She couldn’t imagine things being worse than this. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.

“It shows premeditation.”

She shook her head. How could this be happening? This was getting out of hand. Way out of hand. “But I was with him at Kardascian’s house. He was trying to save the man’s life, not kill him. And I have no reason to lie. Why can’t they take my word?”

“You were with him the entire time?”

She scanned through her memory. It had all happened so fast. It was all so unexpected. She’d been arguing with Mike about who was going to ask Kardascian about Nick Warner, about the “list,” about the disk she was trying to decode. She’d thought Mike was exaggerating about the possible danger. She’d thought he and Evangeline were merely coddling the deaf girl.

But that was before Mike saw something in the garage. Before he’d ordered her to lock herself in the car and call 9-1-1. Before she’d gone looking for him and found him beside Kardascian…up to his elbows in blood.

“You weren’t with him the entire time, were you?”

She stared at Grady’s lips. She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want to admit it was true. “I was with him almost the entire time.”

“But not the entire time.”

Her shoulders slumped. “When I caught up with him, he was trying to save Mr. Kardascian’s life. Doesn’t that count?”

“Not good enough. Like I said, the county sheriff can’t just take our word for it. They have to go by the evidence.”

Evidence. Since Mike didn’t kill Kardascian, there wasn’t any evidence to find, right? And weren’t people supposed to be innocent until proven guilty? “What kind of evidence do they need?”

“Enough to prove he had the means and opportunity to kill Milo Kardascian.”

Cassie nodded. “The means, meaning the gun, right?”

“Right.”

“And the opportunity?”

“The space of time that you weren’t with him. The time he and Kardascian were alone.”

“He didn’t do it.” If she still had her hearing, she could swear she hadn’t heard gun fire, but as things were she wasn’t a lot of help. Still, there had to be something. “He had no reason to do it. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Motive. It counts for a lot in court, even though it’s not required to charge him.”

“So go tell the county detective that Mike had no motive.”

Detective Grady shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I thought you were his partner. His friend.”

“I am. But it wouldn’t be the truth.”

Cassie stared at him. What was he trying to say? She tried to ask, tried to make her voice function, but it caught in her throat as if she’d forgotten how to speak.

“How well do you know Mike, Ms. Allen?”

Cassie chewed her bottom lip. She’d worked with him on a couple of cases. Flirted with him a little. Fantasized about him, certainly. She liked him, more than she felt comfortable with most of the time. But other than that, she supposed she knew very little about him. “Enough to know he’s no murderer.”

Grady nodded. “I believe that, too. But it’s not that simple. Mike and Kardascian have a history.”

Cassie didn’t have to try very hard to remember the exchange between Evangeline and Mike when the millionaire CEO’s picture flashed on the screen in the PPS boardroom. And on the drive to Kardascian’s cabin, Mike had warned her the man had a brutal nature. And that he’d been in trouble with police. “What history?”

“Mike was called to Kardascian’s house a few times. And his condo downtown. That was back before either one of us made detective.”

“Mike told me about that.” A sure sign he had nothing to hide. Right?

“The last call…Kardascian had beat up his girlfriend. Bad.”

Cassie sucked in a breath despite her attempt to face whatever Detective Grady said with her utmost cool.

“It wasn’t the first time. Milo Kardascian was kind of known for taking out his frustrations on whatever woman was attracted enough to his money to put up with him. That last call…” Detective Grady paused, as if he had to force himself to go on. “Mike crossed the line. He messed up Kardascian pretty good.”

Cassie’s head snapped back as if the words were a physical blow. She didn’t know what she’d expected Grady to say, but it wasn’t this. “Mike hit him?”

“Bastard deserved it. Didn’t want to stop beating on the woman even for the police. So Mike stopped him.” Tim’s lips pulled back in a hint of a smile. The smile quickly faded. “Kardascian went after Mike, though. Called in political favors. Made Mike’s life a living hell for a while. Almost drummed him off the force. Certainly slowed down his career. It’s the only reason I made detective before Mike.”

“That’s why they think Mike killed him? Payback?”

The detective lifted a shoulder. “It’s been known to happen.”

Cassie shook her head. “They have to know Mike wouldn’t do that. The rest of his record should speak for itself.”

“Like I said, it comes down to evidence. Whether or not ballistics can prove Mike’s service pistol is the murder weapon. Whether or not a powder residue test proves he recently fired it.” He gave her a smile filled not with pity, but understanding. Maybe even sympathy. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that you believe in him, though.”

She did believe in him. After what had happened with Kardascian, she even had a limited appreciation for his protective streak. If she had stumbled onto the millionaire’s murder alone, who knew what could have happened? She might be in the morgue right now, beside the CEO. “He’s always done a good job on the cases he worked with PPS.”

“Sure.” He gave her a grin suggesting he thought her belief in Mike went deeper than that.

She shifted uncomfortably. “He has done a good job. A very good job. Evangeline says he’s one of the most honest cops in Denver. And after that Dirty Three scandal, I sometimes wonder if he’s the last one left.” She paused, realizing the implication of her words. “No offense. I know there are plenty of honest cops. I’m just frustrated.”

“No offense taken.” His smile widened to show the gap. “And I agree. Mike is an honest cop and I’m sure the evidence will show it.”

She hoped so. She sure hoped so. For obvious reasons…and reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Chapter Five

“So, can I go?” Mike eyed the sheriff’s detective, a guy named Abramson that he’d grown far too familiar with over the past several hours. Hell, he didn’t even know how much time he’d spent staring at the government beige walls in this tiny box of an interview room, nothing but two chairs and a camera staring down at him from the corner. But however long he’d been here was too long. Much too long.

Abramson frowned down at the new report he’d just been handed. His eyebrows pulled together, forming a single bushy ridge topping his craggy features. “The preliminary ballistics examination shows your Sig Sauer is likely the murder weapon.”

Mike took a deep breath, trying to quell his rising frustration. “I’m not saying it wasn’t. I just didn’t fire it.” Abramson had taken swabs of his forearms several hours before to test for gun-powder residue, evidence that he’d recently fired a gun. Since he hadn’t, the test had to come back negative.

Provided this whole thing wasn’t some sort of setup to do away with a traitor cop. For all he knew, Abramson could be drinking buddies with the Dirty Three. At the very least, he was a cop, and cops, as Mike’s dad was fond of repeating, took care of their own. “What about the residue test?”

“The results aren’t back yet.”

“They’re going to be negative. Your killer is out on the streets right now, covering up anything that leads to him. And all the while you’re wasting time with me. And Cassie Allen.”

Abramson leaned forward. “That’s one thing I don’t understand. How does Ms. Allen fit into all of this?”

Mike felt a hitch low in his gut. “She doesn’t.” He shouldn’t have mentioned Cassie at all. Instead of convincing the county detective she had nothing to do with the case, all he’d done was show he was concerned about her. And if this was Mike’s case, he’d do exactly what Abramson was doing—he’d try to exploit that concern to get answers.

“I’d like to believe that, Lawson. Ms. Allen seems like a nice woman. But I have yet to hear a good reason for her being at Kardascian’s house. And until someone sheds some light on that, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep asking questions.”

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