Criminal Promises (12 page)

BD knelt in front of her
and captured her gaze. “Do you trust me to watch the house? To keep
you and the kids safe?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation, just a blind
faith he wasn’t sure he deserved. He’d be damned if he let her
down. “Then try to get some sleep.”

Reaching for the other
throw pillows on the couch, he piled them up. “Lie here. Read if
it’ll help, but try not to dwell on what you can’t
control.”

Her eyebrows scrunched
together with worry and fear. “Whatever Adalia’s after, I’m
catching the brunt of her torments. Am I supposed to ignore that?
To feel nothing?”

He felt the impact of Adalia’s manipulations
through Maggie. The urge to tell her everything in hopes of erasing
her fear surged up. Her knowing wouldn’t make things easier on her.
Stopping Adalia would.

“If you could, I wouldn’t
like you so much. It would mean you’re hard.” He picked Maggie’s
feet up off the floor and raised them to the sofa, half-forcing her
to lie down. “She isn’t going to hurt you.”

When she settled into the cushions, he pulled
the blanket from the back of the sofa over her and prepared himself
for a sleepless night. If it meant he went without sleep for days
or weeks, Adalia would see the backside of bars again.

Hell would become a new polar cap before he
let anything else happen to Maggie and her kids.

Maggie half expected it when she’d told him
she was taking the kids to her parents. It was logical, but Harte’s
actions—his approach—crossed a line. She pulled into the garage and
parked beside his shiny black Audi sedan. The unfamiliar, violent
desire to bust something on it surprised her. Taking a deep breath,
she reminded herself to stay calm and in control.

She’d been looking forward
to a few hours away from drama, stress and dark thoughts. Harte
robbed her of that. With his name sounding like a curse in her
head, she got out of the Tahoe and headed into the house.
Calm. Control.

“Yep. Thanks.” He slid his
cell phone into his pocket and closed the refrigerator door as she
stepped inside. He waved with a bottle of water in his hand. “How
was the farm?”

As if he didn’t know. She
went to the refrigerator and pulled out a water bottle. “I want an
explanation.”

“What?”

She slowly closed the door
and turned back to face him. Sharing a house made avoiding certain
intimacies and daily rituals impossible. Common courtesy still
mattered. “Living with you, your caveman attitude and secrets is
one thing. You feeling entitled to set one of your lackeys on me
for surveillance is another.”

“I’m not… What are you
talking about?”

Ignorance did
not
suit him. He
couldn’t pull it off. Swallowing a drink, she let the cool water
lower her temperature. Loosening her grip on her emotional control
would only lead to the disintegration of her physical control,
which was not a viable option. She just might give in to the
earlier urge to bust up his car.

“I’m talking about me
being followed to my family’s farm?”

“What?” His eyes widened.
“Someone followed you?”

No way did she buy his
shock was genuine. “A gorgeous man, looking remarkably like Officer
McClain, in a mostly restored fifty-seven Oldsmobile Cutlass tailed
me all day. I thought about pulling over and asking him out if he
pulled up behind me. He is, after all, erotic romance novel
hot.”

“You wouldn’t have.” He
spat the retort as if it were an angry dare.

She shrugged.

“If you ever pull a stunt
like that I will cuff you to the nearest bed.”

“Then McClain would know
where to find me.”

His cobalt eyes frosted.
His face set into a granite hard stare. “Neither of you would find
the experience as pleasurable as something you might read in those
novels of yours.”

Hmm. He was jealous. And
not as closed off as she’d thought. “So, you don’t deny you had me
followed.”

He took a drink and met her
gaze. “What makes you think he was following you?”

Maggie raised her pinkie
finger. “I’ve met McClain. I noticed the car at the edge of the
housing division and remember thinking with a little more money,
maybe a new paint job and some shinier rims, it would be a sweet
ride and worth considerable money.”

She watched Harte steadily
as she raised her ring finger. “Your man’s good. Most people would
have a hard time spotting him. I grew up with men who loved old
cars, and one of them spent considerable time in the military. I’ve
been taught how to notice things.”

Harte licked his lips and
grinned as if she amused him. His sharp gaze never left hers. “What
else did you notice?”

She added her middle finger
to indicate her next point. “I took an exit a little past the
normal one.”

She’d stayed in the left lane, waiting until
the last possible second to weave through the scattered cars to
take the exit. The Cutlass had tried to follow her, but other
drivers had blocked his path.

“So, what did you discover
when you came up on him from behind?”

Harte might have pulled the
ruse off if he hadn’t tensed up. He was quite easy to read when she
paid attention. Maggie lifted her index finger and wiggled the
four. “I didn’t come up behind him. I took a different route to the
farm. Imagine my surprise when I found him waiting at the end of
the property line as I left to come home.”

The feigned humor faded from Harte’s face. He
couldn’t deny what he’d done.

She leaned against the
counter. “Explain to me how Officer McClain knew where I was headed
if you didn’t assign him to watch me.”

She didn’t give him time to
answer. “The way I see it… You think I’m involved in something but
won’t say what, so you’re treating me like a suspect.”

She quirked her brow and dared him to lie.
She wasn’t backing down. Her days of bending to everyone else’s
wishes were over. She had regained her balance and rediscovered her
spine.

“Fine. I had him follow
you. I don’t think of you as a suspect, but I made you a promise. I
don’t take my promises lightly.” Eerily enough it was something he
and Adalia had in common. Only her promises were
criminal.

“You could have told me.
You didn’t have to invade my privacy.”

“Couldn’t be
helped.”

“Bull. You had more than
one choice when you knew where I was going. If you felt the need to
keep that close an eye on me you could have asked to join
us.”

“Didn’t want to
intrude.”

With her ire passing,
Maggie noticed a picture frame in the corner of a cabinet had been
moved. Her left eye twitched as she went to straighten it. “You
mean you wanted me watched while you searched my house. You
betrayed the trust you asked for.”

“It’s not like that,
Mags.”

He stood in front of her
and lied to her face. For the first time, the sound of her name on
his lips sickened her. “You’re here so it’s easier to blend in with
the neighbors and to be closer should something happen. You’ve not
been given open access to my life.”

“That’s not what this
is.”

“Really?” She crossed her
ankles and arms. “Then explain it.”

“I can’t.” He set his
bottled water on the counter. “But I was justified.”

“Wrong, Detective.
What
you did is one
thing.
How
you
went about it is another.” She pursed her lips and breathed
deep.

“No.” Cold determination
laced his voice. “Some things are justified.”

She didn’t care that his jaw twitched with
leashed anger. She wanted to pummel him.

“I get it.” She shrugged.
“I had a lot of time to think on the way home.”

“What do you get,
Mags?”

“Adalia wants something I
have. You won’t tell me what, though my help figuring it out could
help you catch her faster. So rather than trust me you’re treating
me like a villain while hoping to get lucky before I figure too
much out.”

“I can’t help what you
believe.”

Another lie.
“You could with a little honesty.” She worked at
leveling her heart rate to stay in control. The pounding wouldn’t
slow.

“I need you to trust me to
keep you safe until Adalia’s back behind bars.” Sincerity glimmered
in his eyes, softening her resolve to fight him.

Still, she wasn’t the weak,
helpless woman relying on the strong man to guide her. He could
stand between her and a killer sure. Order her around, no. “If I
know who you’re after, why can’t you tell me the rest?”

“It goes back to my
promises.”

“You haven’t promised me
anything that would stop you.”

“Not all of my promises
were made to you.”

Who then? Who could have
asked him other than her? He wouldn’t tell her. Fine. She would
find out on her own. “If you didn’t have me followed because you
suspect me of something then why?”

Harte winced a little, but
didn’t look away. “Safety.”

“So I’m Adalia’s
target.”

Any hope of sleep vanished with the scary
truth.

Satisfied he wouldn’t drip
blood everywhere, something that would no doubt send Maggie into a
whirl of OCD cleaning, BD wrapped a green towel around his waist,
stuck his head out the hallway door of his bathroom and listened
for signs of her location. He’d seen a first-aid kit in the kitchen
and with luck could grab it and get back to his room before seeing
her.

Silence greeted him. A good sign, but Maggie
would be around somewhere. She always was. Easing down the hall in
a near tiptoe walk, he went to the kitchen. One step into the room
he froze.

Maggie. Bent over, pulling a pot out of the
cabinet, pale peach slacks stretched across her hips, enhancing her
curves.

Damn.

He hardened. The towel tented. He rolled his
eyes and stifled a moan. If she turned, she’d see what the towel
couldn’t hide, so keeping a wary eye out, he sidestepped toward the
sink.

She straightened and turned. Her eyes darted
over him and her jaw hardened. With no more than a few feet
separating them, he saw every miniscule change on her face—flushing
cheeks, twitching lips, darkening irises.

His hand throbbed with renewed force of his
pumping blood.

Suddenly, as if a stick of
dynamite exploded behind her, Maggie slammed the skillet on the
counter, jumped across the room and grabbed his towel-wrapped hand.
She pushed him toward the table and into a chair. “What did you
do?”

A pulse of something—an odd mix of searing
pain and enjoyment—sliced through his palm. He preferred her
reaction to be to his naked body, but would take what he could get
as long as she kept touching him.

“Dropped the razor. The
blade broke in half.” He used his free hand to secure the towel at
his waist.

She licked her enticing lips. Her fingers
brushed his arm as she raised his hand.

His brain flipped a breaker
in its intelligence box. If much more blood flowed out of his
brain, he’d pass out at her feet. “I cut myself.”

“I gathered.” She pulled a
chair close to his and began unwinding the bloody towel from his
hand. “Was all this really necessary?”

Is it necessary for you to
touch me and feel nothing?
He watched her
fuss over him and wondered if he’d moved to
heaven or hell. This case was not going to end well.
He wanted her, painfully, but as long as she
wasn’t interested, he had no choice but to stay away from her. Who
was he kidding? He had no choice anyway.

It would be fun trying to
convince her though.
I really have lost
too much blood.

Scanning her face, the way she licked her
bottom lip before sucking it between her teeth, he grew harder. He
got a sexual reaction out of her when he pinned her to the couch or
the car, but the sight of him wet…wrapped in only a towel and
obviously aroused, did nothing to her.

Great.
A man always wanted to be slapped in the face with his lack
of appeal to a sexy woman. As much as it grated on his nerves that
she seemed to have turned off her desire, that she could turn it
off, he reminded himself again it was a good thing. She couldn’t
mean too much to him, or he wouldn’t be able to protect
her.

Personal involvements only complicated
things.

More than her looks, which rocked harder than
Godsmack, attracted him. Her mannerisms and the way she handled
herself were others. He’d made a promise to her husband, and it had
nothing to do with stretching her across the table and spreading
himself over her like cream cheese on a bagel.

He cleared his throat. “At
the time it was.”

“Why didn’t you just put
some antiseptic and a bandage on it?” She shook her head as she
went to the sink, wet a washcloth, and retrieved the first-aid kit
from the cabinet.

“There weren’t any in the
drawers.” Her moves were logical and efficient. Cool control coated
sizzling sensuality.