LITMIR.BIZ

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of the jury. He lost both his kids within a month. And you know what the name Skye is worth around here.”

      “You are not your father,” she said. She’d said it before, but it never seemed to sink in.

      His laugh was sudden and without mirth. “You’ve always been naive. Maybe it comes from being born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

      “And you’ve been afraid you’ll turn into your father. It’s not written that you will be a drunk and a loser.”

      “Ah, darling, it’s the family tradition,” he said, his voice low and silky and taunting. “My dad, my brother—”

      I will not rise to the bait, she told herself and stood there with her mouth closed.

      He finally added, “Anyway, it’s not me I’m worried about.”

      “Maybe you should.”

      Frowning, he said, “What does that mean?”

      “What’s happened to you? When did you stop caring?”

      “Stop caring about what? What are you talking about?”

      “Your appearance, for instance. I can’t believe the department lets you wear your hair that long.”

      “I’m not a policeman anymore, Lara. That part of my life is over. I thought you knew that.”

      She could hardly fathom such a thing. Brady had always wanted to be a cop. “Then what do you do?”

      “I work construction like I did in college.”

      That explained the muscles. “But you were exonerated, weren’t you? Why didn’t you go back? Was it Chief Dixon?”

      He shrugged and looked away.

      “Brady,” she said, touching his wrist. Big mistake. Sensory recognition traveled through her system like a lightning bolt, erasing the last three hundred sixty-three days in the blink of an eye. She drew her hand away at once. “You wouldn’t have shot the boy if you hadn’t had to,” she said, her voice gentle. “You saved Tom’s life.”

      He looked straight into her eyes and her heart quivered in her chest. She did not want to feel anything for him, let alone the tumultuous combination of lost love and resentment currently ricocheting inside her body like a wild bullet. Her mother had warned her a man with Brady’s past could never really love anyone. Lara hadn’t believed it until that night when he’d proved it to her.

      He said, “I have nothing to lose. But you do.”

      “Me? Oh, you mean money. You think Bill Armstrong is going to come after my family’s money.”

      “If he finds you’re legally my wife, yes. If he finds a way to stick it to me or anyone I care—cared—about, yes, I do. Our marriage is a matter of public record. All he has to do is look. Maybe you ought to light a fire under your lawyer.”

      She closed her eyes, trying to imagine her mother’s reaction to someone suing Brady and walking off with the Kirk fortune.

      “It’s not the civil suit I’m worried about,” Brady added. “It’s Armstrong himself. He’s gone half-crazy since losing Billy. If he finds out about you—”

      “Why would he even think about me?” she said, looking at Brady again, but her mind’s eye casting a different image. Both of the Armstrong kids had come into the teen center on occasion. First Sara, Billy’s delicate sixteen-year-old sister, then Billy and his pal, Jason Briggs, both a year younger. When Sara took a whole bottle of her grandmother’s sleeping pills, it had stunned the community and it had devastated Billy.

      The senior Armstrong had come into the teen center looking for answers no one could give him. Grief and anger had battled in his feverish eyes and she’d felt horrible for him. And truth be known, a little afraid of him, too.

      And then, three weeks later, Billy died.

      Good Lord, no wonder Brady looked haunted.

      But she couldn’t offer him what he needed. Maybe another woman could, someday, one who knew how to crack through his defenses or live with them. But not her. She said, “I’ve been gone a year, Brady. I’ll leave again in a few days. As far as anybody in Riverport knows, I’m just the girl you didn’t marry.”

      He looked down at his feet then back at her, his gaze unfathomable. How could she have ever thought she knew him better than she knew herself? He was a stranger. She glanced at her watch. Almost three o’clock. “I have to get back inside.”

      His eyebrows raised in query. Before he could ask a question she wasn’t prepared to answer, she told him something she hadn’t planned to. “I have a meeting this evening with Jason Briggs.”

      As she’d known it would, this news diverted his curiosity. “What does he want?”

      “I guess he wants to talk.”

      “Why does the boy who convinced Billy Armstrong that stealing a car and a half case of beer was a good idea want to talk to you?”

      She shrugged. “He got out of juvenile detention earlier this week and apparently went straight to the teen center. My replacement called me up in Seattle where I live now, and I called Jason. He asked if I was going to be around Riverport soon because he needed to talk.”

      “And so you drove all the way back here to talk with a delinquent sixteen-year-old boy.”

      “Among other things,” she hedged. “But, yes. There was something in his voice.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “He sounded nervous.”

      “Jason Briggs hasn’t, to my knowledge, told anyone anything about that night except to try to blame everything on Billy.”

      She almost smiled. Brady was acting like what Brady really was. A cop. How could he not see that? She said, “I won’t know what’s troubling him until I talk to him.”

      “Yeah. Okay, I’ll go with you. This may be a break.”

      “No, you won’t go with me,” she said firmly.

      “Where are you meeting him?”

      “Like I’m going to tell you?”

      “You don’t know what he has in mind.”

      “And neither do you,” she said. With a warning glance, she added, “Come back later tonight. If Jason says anything I can pass along to you, I will.”

      “I don’t like you going alone.”

      She stared at him until he had the grace to drop his gaze. “I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow. We’ll have this sham of a marriage annulled.”

      One minute he was staring at her as she talked and the next he’d closed the three feet between them and grabbed her arms. The energy that surged directly into her bloodstream almost knocked her off her feet. Her heart banged against her ribs.

      He dipped his head so low his deep dark brown eyes burned into hers. “Can a marriage consummated the way ours was be annulled?”

      “Brady…”

      “Don’t you remember our wedding night? Don’t you remember what we did—”

      She shrugged herself away from him. Sex had never been the issue. “You’d better go now.”

      Seconds ticked by in absolute silence before he finally moved. He paused at her elbow. “I’ll be back at nine o’clock.”

      “Make it ten,” she said.

      He nodded once before striding away. She stood in the garden for several moments, staring out at the old dock, waiting until she heard the roar of his motorcycle and knew it was safe to move.

      Then she walked back inside the house, head high,

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