LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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