Protecting the Pregnant Witness (9 page)

“Do you need anything else from us?” the captain asked. “You know we all have a personal stake in getting that serial killer off the streets. And if protecting Josie will do it, you say the word and we’re there.”

The flashing strobe of red, white and blue lights finally died as the black and whites cleared the parking lot and took the two thugs up to Fourth Precinct headquarters for bookings on assault and various other offenses. Lingering frissons of adrenaline and his frustration over the foolish risk Josie had taken by disobeying his command to stay put inside were the only things keeping his bruised body standing at this point.

He checked his watch and headed for the Shamrock’s back door. “Well, sir, in about three hours I’ll have been up twenty-four straight with a false bomb threat and a beat down in between. Once I get Josie back to my apartment, I’m gonna crash hard. Can I get somebody to set up watch outside my building for about eight hours?”

If Cutler okayed the request, then Rafe knew he could drop his guard for a few hours and that Josie would still be well-protected. A shuffle of movement in the background gave him his answer before his commanding officer spoke. “I’m on my way over there now to take first watch. Jillian’s out of town at a PT conference and it’s hard to sleep without her here, anyway. I’ll notify the others so that your place is covered around the clock.”

“Thanks.” Rafe stopped to inspect the impromptu repair job Jake had done on the back door’s busted window. The man did good work. He wasn’t ready to give a man he’d just met today his complete trust, but they’d been lucky to have him around tonight. “I’ll check in again at ten hundred hours tomorrow.”

“Put down your badge for a few hours, Sarge,” the captain ordered in that friendly voice of experience tone of his. “Go take care of Josie. And take care of yourself. You’re no good to any of us if you’re running on fumes. Good night.”

“Good night, sir.”

More certain of the backup from SWAT One than he was of Captain Cutler’s personal advice, Rafe hung up and headed for the sharp voices coming from Robbie’s office.

“Ow!” Robbie whined. “You’re doing that on purpose, girlie. It stings.”

“It’s your own fault. Stupid loan sharks. You’re about all I have left, Robbie.” Her voice was husky, as if she’d been crying—or arguing. Or both. “Get some help before I lose you, too.”

The plea in her tone quickened Rafe’s pace. He walked in to find Josie dabbing some ointment on his split lip and urging him to keep a cold compress over the eye that had swollen shut. “Is everything okay?” Rafe asked.

He spoke to Robbie, but his gaze was drawn to Josie’s weary posture and the fist she kept rubbing at the small of her back as she packed up the first-aid kit. “The patient will live.”

“We’ll see about that,” Robbie protested, finally holding the compress without her help. “I think Nurse Pain here needs to retake the course on bedside manner.”

“I’m inclined to let the torture continue if it’ll knock some sense into you.” Rafe grabbed a chair from against the wall and set it beside the desk so that Josie could sit while she fussed over her uncle. “How much do you owe this time?”

“Eight large.”

“Eight thousand?”

“I just made a down payment with all the bar’s profits from this weekend and tonight. But by the time I get the rest of what I owe, their interest will have doubled the price.”

“At least that explains where the money went,” Josie groused. “Those men could have killed you.”

Robbie slowly shook his head. “Can’t get money from a dead man.”

She caught his thick-fingered hand and squeezed. “Not funny. What if Rafe had gotten hurt rescuing you? Or…” She glanced toward Rafe without quite meeting his gaze. “Or the baby?”

“What if Josie had gotten hurt?” Rafe pointed out. He didn’t know how much Josie had told her uncle about the identity of the killer she’d seen visiting Patrick, but whether the threat came from the RGK or a pair of leg breakers, she’d put herself at risk tonight. “She was out in the open. I was a little preoccupied. You were down. If somebody wanted to hurt her, she’d have been an easy target tonight.”

“Ah, girlie.” Robbie lowered the compress and leaned forward in his chair. “I’d never let you or the wee one be hurt. I’m sorry. It’s me own mess. I’ll get meself out of it as quick as I can.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he stood. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about me. Tomorrow, I’ll look in the phone book for one of those Gamblers Anonymous meetings.”

“Do it tonight.” She stood to give him a hug. “I love you, you old fool.”

“I’m not quite the hero your father was, am I?”

Josie pulled away, her pretty face marred by a frown. “Dad wasn’t perfect. None of us is. He always looked up to you, and was glad you brought him to the States. He’d be the first one to say you can beat this gambling addiction. That’s one thing we Nicholses have plenty of…” She glanced back at Rafe, reminding him of the conversation that had been interrupted earlier. “…stubbornness.”

“I wish I had your faith, Josie.” Robbie picked up the whiskey she’d been using for medicinal purposes and headed toward his apartment upstairs. He paused for a moment in the doorway and asked for a favor. “Take care of our girl, Sergeant.”

“I will.”

When the door had closed behind her uncle, Josie hurried around the desk. “Rafe, do something.”

If he’d been thinking she’d want to resume that conversation about the baby, he’d been mistaken. “Like what? Give him the money? I can pay off his debt, but if he doesn’t get help with his addiction, he’ll get into trouble somewhere else.” He could handle daggers better than the despair that was coming from those big blue eyes. “Those two who tried to shake him down for the money aren’t talking, but I’m guessing they’re already on the vice squad’s radar. I’m guessing Robbie is, too.”

Had the circles beneath her eyes been that noticeable before? “You think KCPD is watching Robbie? What do they suspect him of?”

“Probably nothing.” He held up his hands, hoping to placate her distress and get her to sit again before she collapsed. “But I’m sure they’re thinking that someone who drops that much money every month can lead them to the lowlifes like Thug One and Thug Two back there that they
are
trying to catch.”

“Tell them to stop, or it’ll be like Patrick all over again.” So calming and sitting was a no-go. “My family has sacrificed too much already. I’ve lost a father and a brother to crime.” In one jerky movement, she choked back a sob and grabbed at the small of her back. “I won’t lose the only family I have left.”

“Honey, I can’t tell vice squad what to do.” Oh, man, she was hurting—physically and emotionally. Rafe inched forward, wanting to ease her pain, yet needing her to see the sense in what he was saying. He understood the dysfunction of a fractured family, and had learned long ago, that sometimes, love and wishing it so just wasn’t enough to make one come together again. “We tried to keep Patrick away from the drugs and dealing. Hard talks. Consequences. Intervention. Failed rehabs. Both of us know Patrick was the only one who could save himself from the road he was on.”

She gripped the corner of the desk as she sniffed back the next sob. “You’ve butted in and taken over my life, trying to fix everything that’s wrong with it. Why don’t you butt in and fix Robbie’s problems, too?”

Butting in? He was trying to do the right thing here. Trying to keep her safe. Trying to keep a promise.

The first tears spilled over and he knew she was physically and emotionally exhausted.

Take care of Josie.
Whether the order came from her father or Captain Cutler—or that well-guarded cache of emotions inside him—it was one he would always follow.

“Hey. Shh.” Despite a token protest, Rafe pulled Josie away from the desk and into his arms. With her forehead brushing against his collar, and her elbows wedged between them, she trembled on her feet and her tears ran in stilted, noisy sobs. He reached behind her to loosen the band holding her hair up so tightly, then sifted the weight of the sable waves through his fingers. “You’ve got more than Robbie in your corner. Remember that. I’ll do what I can to protect him. I’ll keep him safe. I’ll keep all of you safe.”

“But—”

“Shh.” He recalled her words from that night in the truck, and perhaps, tonight, he was just beginning to understand what she’d meant. “That’s how it is in a relationship. Sometimes, one half needs more than the other at a given time.”

“But we’re not in a relation… Uh.”

He dropped his other hand down to the small of her back and gently kneaded his fingers into the knot of muscles there. Josie gasped in pain and tensed against him, her fingers fisting in the front of his starched, dusty shirt. But he kept massaging until the tension eased and she went limp against him.

They stood like that for countless minutes, with Josie’s curved body snugged against his. Her tears quieted into a steady rhythm, soaked through his T-shirt to warm his skin, and then ceased altogether.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Rafael Delgado?” She shifted her stance to wind her arms around his waist and nestled closer. “I thought I was getting a lecture.”

“You are.”

He leaned back to cup her face and tilt it up to his. Her eyes widened, then drifted shut as he dipped his mouth to kiss her forehead. He gently kissed each eyelid, easing the fever there. Then he moved lower, supping up the salty tracks of her tears over her cheeks and jaw. And then he hovered over the decadent fullness of her unadorned lips, letting his breath caress her mouth, feeling her breath tickling across his skin. He waited until her eyes fluttered open, denying himself what he wanted most until he saw the light of acceptance, of welcome, of answering need in her eyes.

Josie anchored her hands on his shoulders and rose up on her toes to meet him halfway before he closed his mouth over hers with a hungry claim. Her soft lips parted beneath his and he plunged his tongue inside to find hers waiting, daring him to dance along with hers. Rafe kissed her hard, kissed her softly. He lapped up the remnants of her tears and offered comfort, strength, desire. Whatever she needed, it was hers for the taking.

And what he needed… Oh, what he needed. Every foray of her tongue, every press of her lips, every needy grasp of her fingertips against his skin—he absorbed it like a blessing. He fed on the gift of her passion, let her inside the shield of his soul, filled himself up with the need to love this woman and be loved by her.

But he could lose her. He could lose so much if he ever let Josie Nichols too far inside him.

He wasn’t the man she thought he was. He didn’t know about kids, didn’t know about real relationships. He was over six feet tall, knew more about guns and bombs and violence than most people knew about the TV shows they watched. He’d killed men, put down threats, faced danger every damn day of his life.

Yet he was afraid of this beautiful pregnant woman. He was afraid of Aaron Nichols’s daughter. He was afraid to really, truly love her.

Because love meant pain.

Love was believing his father wouldn’t knock him out cold if he crossed his path on a drunken rampage. Love was believing the apology after strips of skin had been flayed from his back.

Love was believing a fiancée would understand his commitment to his work and support him for who he was instead of humiliating him at the altar.

Love was a brave little boy, dying in his arms—believing Rafe could save him.

Love was believing.

And after thirty-four years of love like that, he just couldn’t believe anymore.

His screwed-up self would be a hell of a burden for any woman. And he would never be that burden to Josie.

So he ended the kiss. He tore his mouth from hers and rubbed his cheek against her silky hair, crushing her in a hug until he could stop up the emotions she inevitably unleashed inside him.

Once he eased his grip and her heels sank to the floor, he felt Josie smile against his neck. “I like this new style of lecturing, Rafe.”

Oh, yeah, that.

He eased her back and cupped her face again. Something inside him got stuck out of place and refused to completely shut down the emotions that still hummed at the sight of her trusting eyes and beautifully pinkened, kiss-stung lips.

“Don’t you ever, ever put yourself into the middle of something like that again. Understand? I’m not just trying to protect you from a killer—I’m trying to protect you, period.”

With a nod, she freed herself from his hands and snuggled against his chest again. He tried to distance himself, tried to keep his hands off her, but he lost the battle. “We need you, Rafe. I thought I could do this alone, but I can’t. We need you.”

He folded his arms around her and rested his cheek against the crown of her hair, feeling a possessive sense of rightness and that seductive calm that filled him when Josie Nichols got around the barriers he tried to keep in place.

T
HE MAN SET
his camera in his lap to watch the black pickup truck drive away from the Shamrock Bar’s parking lot.

The light from the upstairs apartment had gone out half an hour ago. So what had the stern-faced cop and Josie Nichols been doing for thirty minutes? Sitting in his vehicle in the dark, with his telephoto lens mounted on his camera, he’d had plenty of time to think about the answer.

Plenty of time to decide how to silence Josie Nichols before he left town. He hated that a woman had been the one to see him kill Kyle Austin that day. His blood pulsed with a familiar heat. He hated that a woman had any kind of power over him.
He
controlled his own destiny, not a woman.
He
would decide where he went and what he did and who he loved, not some woman.

Since the last beating he’d taken as a teenager, when his father and uncles had abandoned him at a hospital and severed all ties with him, he’d been his own man. He’d changed his name, changed his face, and changed how he dealt with the people who interfered with what he wanted and deserved.

For all his family knew, he was dead. And so was the boy who had been Donny Kemp. He’d taken all he’d learned from his grifter family—how to charm, how to deceive, how to plan, how to punish anyone who muffed up the con—and had transformed himself into someone who would never allow anyone to control him again. No woman would take his job, refuse his heart or turn him over to the police to join his father and uncles in prison.