LITMIR.BIZ

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trying not to think about.

      “We aren’t going to talk about Danny,” she said in a voice that had gone very low and very cold. “Ever again.”

      “Seems to me we have to,” he countered, feeling his own face heat as three months of pent-up anger kindled bright and hot. “Because your story doesn’t add up, and I figure it’s because of Danny. You depend on your cell phone for your business. If you had forgotten and left it in your car while it was being worked on, you’d have gone back and picked it up. Of course, that’d be a little hard to do if you didn’t know the whereabouts of your car.” He narrowed his eyes. “Danny took it and disappeared. That’s where you and Sheila have been, right? Cruising around looking for your brother and your car? Think maybe I ought to track him down? Remind him his license got suspended when he chose not to pay all those traffic tickets he’d racked up? Remind him of what happened to him after he got tossed in jail?”

      “I doubt Danny needs a reminder of that. Any more than I need one about the questionable choices I’ve made.” She used her hand to make a sweeping gesture of the kitchen. “Not when they’re all around me,” she added in a voice that sounded like chipped glass.

      “You don’t like the house, you can always move out.”

      “I plan to, as soon as you sign the divorce papers my lawyer sent you.”

      “Sent me? Your slick attorney didn’t just send them. He had a process server track me down at the briefing station and slap the damn papers in my hand.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Every cop on the shift knew what was going on.”

      “I didn’t know.” The flicker of surprise in her eyes verified that. “I had no idea my attorney planned to serve you that way.”

      “Well, now you know.”

      “I talked to him yesterday. He said he hasn’t received them back from you. Why haven’t you signed them?”

      Bran curled his hands into fists. He’d sat in his ratty apartment, staring at the document for hours, telling himself to just sign the damn thing and be done with it. The fact he had no clue why he hadn’t was like a splash of alcohol on his rekindled anger. And, hell, maybe he was ticked because she’d beat him to the punch and served him first!

      “I’ll let you know when I sign them.”

      “Why wait?”

      Rising, he sent her a caustic look. “Why hurry?”

      She lifted a palm, dropped it. “Look, we made a mistake. We ran off and got married when the only thing we knew about each other was how good we were together in bed. If we’d just stayed there, we would have been much better off. Instead, we’ve spent the past eleven months trying to force each other into molds in which we’ll never fit.”

      She stabbed a hand through her hair, closed her eyes. When she reopened them, an aura of weariness had replaced the agitation.

      “You left, Bran. You walked out. You belong in this house, I don’t. I’ve found a condo I want to buy. Legally, it’ll be a lot easier to do that after our divorce is final. Why won’t you do both of us a favor and sign the papers?”

      He damn well wished he had an answer for that. Since he didn’t, he flipped the topic. “Let’s get back to the reason I’m here,” he said, closing the space between them. “Vic Heath.”

      “Fine.” She thrust her tumbled hair behind her ears. “Fine.”

      “His mother might be right about Vic being in eye-for-an-eye mode. And my having put him in prison gives him even more reason to come after me. If he shows up here, I don’t want him to find you. You can bunk with Morgan, Carrie and Grace until he’s picked up.”

      “You’re the one who should stay at your sisters’ place. Heath’s after you, not me.”

      “True. But if he can’t find me, he might settle for my wife. I don’t want you hurt, Tory.”

      “I don’t want you hurt, either,” she said quietly.

      “Well, that’s something we agree on. You can pack a bag now. I’ll drive you over to my sisters’ place.”

      “Has Heath been spotted since he left the funeral home in Tulsa? Does anyone even know if he’s still in Oklahoma?”

      “No, to both questions.”

      “If the threat was to me, I’d go.”

      Bran caught her chin in his hand as she started to move away. “Victoria Lynn, this is serious. Life and death.”

      Beneath his fingers he felt her soften. Something like regret, only more complex, flickered in her green eyes. He eased out a breath. When it came to standing on her own the woman never gave an inch. “No one’s going to view you as dependent if you bunk at my sisters’ house for a few days.”

      “I carry a gun for a living, too,” she said, shaking off his touch. “I know how to take care of myself.”

      “The corrections cop probably thought the same thing. We’ll never know since he’s on a slab at the morgue.”

      “I appreciate you letting me know about Heath.” As she moved to slip past him, her shoulder brushed his. He felt the instant connection. The pull. She was right, he thought dourly. They should have just stayed in bed having mind-blowing sex and bypassed the wedding.

      When she reached the counter opposite him, she turned. “I’ve got three active cases going right now. All have surveillance involved, which means I won’t be spending a lot of time here over the next week or so. When I am here, I’ll activate the security system. Keep my guard up.” She patted the Sig she’d left beside her leather jacket. “I’ll keep my eyes open. If you have a picture of Heath, that would help.”

      “His picture’s all over the television by now.”

      “I’ll turn it on. Memorize his face. You’ll let me know when you find out who helped Heath escape?”

      “The minute I know, you’ll know.”

      He gave her a considering look. As long as she chose to stay here alone, there wasn’t much he could do about it. And, he conceded, when she’d gone with him to the police pistol range she’d proven she was his equal with a gun. She also held her own in hand-to-hand combat—he might have had her on the ground outside, but the way she’d moved had kept him from going for his weapon. Yet knowing all that, he still wasn’t satisfied.

      “I’ve arranged for extra patrols of the neighborhood by both uniformed cops and plainclothes,” he said.

      She slanted him a look. “Is one of those extra patrols going to be you?”

      “Not officially. Everyone involved in the shootout is on desk duty until the review board completes its report.” He lifted a shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I can’t drive by, simply as a concerned citizen checking the safety of a neighborhood.”

      “I’ll be careful. You don’t need to worry about me.”

      A vicious case of frustration had his head pounding. He wished to hell he had even an ounce of control over the situation. Over her.

      “If something happens, call my cell. Even if you get a bad sense about something, I want to hear it. That goes for everyone in the family. You need us, we’ll be here for you. You know that.”

      “I know.” Her eyes softened. “It’s nice to have dependable backup who all carry badges.”

      “Yeah.”

      She wouldn’t call him, Bran would stake his life on that. She’d spent the entire time they’d been married showing him how independent and take-charge she could be. It was ironic, he thought, that his innate nature was to protect, comfort and soothe and he’d married a woman who wanted no part of that.

      Patience had. She had always considered him her protector.

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