Shades of Temptation (11 page)

It seemed too much to ask of her, but he was acting as if
nothing unusual had happened between them. So, fine. She wouldn’t be the first
one to cave. No way. She wasn’t going to give Jase the chance to complain she
wasn’t a team player the next time he saw Stevens. So she tried focusing on the
evidence and only the evidence. She was so absorbed in her task, in fact, that
she jumped when Jase suddenly shoved back his chair, stood and said, “Damn it,
Ward. Let’s get it over with. I know you have something to say to me, so just
say it.”

Although her gaze immediately flew to his, she looked away just
as quickly. Staring at her file, she responded coolly, “I don’t know what you
mean. We’ve been talking about the case ever since we were at the preserve. Have
you had any new thoughts?”

To her amazement, he reached out and flipped the file she was
reading shut. Slowly, she looked up at him. Crossing his arms, he leaned against
her desk and stared down at her.

“I know you’re pissed because of what I told Stevens, but I
can’t change how I feel. I could have lied and said I had absolutely no concerns
about you taking the lead on The Embalmer case, but I didn’t. Forgive me if I
don’t want to be responsible for you getting yourself or someone else killed
simply because you’re more worried about proving what a badass you are than
giving yourself the time you need to recover.”

Now it was she who shot to her feet. “Recover from what? My leg
is healing just fine.”

“It’s not your leg I’m talking about and you know it. Are you
seriously going to tell me you’re not shaken up by the fact that you were almost
killed? By the fact you shot and killed a sixteen-year-old? Because I’m not
buying it.”

“You don’t have to buy anything. You admitted to Stevens you
can’t separate my gender from the job, so you don’t have the right to ask me
that question.”

She could feel her control slipping. And she didn’t like that.
When it came to Jase, she needed every ounce of control she could muster. She
tried to walk past him, to put some breathing space between them, but he stopped
her with a gentle grip on her arm.

“Listen to me. I can’t separate your gender from the job. Not
completely. Am I sorry about that? I’m not sure. It has nothing to do with equal
rights, but what we all bring to the table, good and bad, and frankly, gender is
a factor. It might make me a caveman and an asshole, but I’m hardwired to
protect women. Cherish them. But it’s my issue and I told Stevens that.”

“Yeah, and so did Mac,” she said bitterly as she wrenched her
arm out of his grip. “Mighty big of you two.”

“Damn it, don’t you get it? It has nothing to do with thinking
you’re less capable, Carrie. My question about you being shaken up is
legitimate. And it’s a gender neutral question. The fact you’re a woman might
mean I’m more willing to ask you the question, but a guy would be shaken, too. I
was shook up the first time I killed someone. And the first time I almost died
on the job. You’ve seen the scars yourself, but there were emotional scars, too.
It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She didn’t like the reminder of those scars or his near-death
experience. She wondered if he’d brought it up on purpose, not just to make his
point, but to worm his way a little more into her head. Into her heart. Raising
a hand to her temple, she tried to think. To concentrate and give his words the
serious consideration they deserved before answering. “I’m—I’m not ashamed,” she
finally said. “Even if you’re right, even if I’m still dealing with what
happened with Porter, it’s not going to affect my performance. I won’t let
it.”

He reached out and pinched her chin. “Because you’re
Superwoman, right?”

She barely stopped herself from flinching. God, she hated that
moniker. How many men had called her that in her lifetime? How many men had said
it in the same sarcastic tone? Only she had to admit, Jase’s tone when he’d
called her by the dreaded nickname had sounded more exasperatedly affectionate
than sarcastic. Because she recognized that, she smiled tightly. “Something like
that. Now, can we get back to the task at hand and focus on the case?”

“Fine.” Once again, he took his seat, spinning it to face her.
“Let’s assume Kelly Sorenson’s killer is The Embalmer and not a copycat. What he
did to her doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Except for the eyelids, he completely
changed his M.O. Why?”

“It’s not uncommon for a serial killer’s M.O. to change, as you
know,” she replied. “It’s not the method they use to kill the person that’s the
signature, it’s usually something completely separate that has special meaning
to them. So in this case, the eyelids are the common denominator. The most
important, in my opinion. Of course, that doesn’t rule out that this is a
copycat killing.”

“No. It doesn’t. Plus we can’t forget the killer could be a
woman. Not common with serial killers, but still something to consider.”

She couldn’t help herself. “By all means, let’s remain gender
neutral so long as we’re talking killers, not coworkers.”

He didn’t laugh and she hadn’t expected him to. Although she
kept her head down, she could feel his gaze on her. “When are you going to
accept you’re not just a coworker to me, Carrie? I was being honest when I told
Stevens your gender was an issue for me. I was also being honest when I told him
I couldn’t be certain my personal feelings for you weren’t clouding my opinion
of whether you were the best person for this assignment. Or are we just going to
keep ignoring that, in addition to the fact you slapped me this morning?”

“Can we?” she said, still not looking at him.

When he didn’t reply, she sighed and finally met his gaze. “I
thought you were ready to talk shop and let the other stuff go.”

“You’re the one who gave me the opening,” he pointed out
gently.

She sighed. What could she say? He was right.

“This isn’t just about me wanting the lead on the case for my
own professional reasons, Carrie. I care about you.”

He
cared
about her. Such an
innocuous word to sum up his feelings for her, when she knew her feelings for
him were far more complex. “Yet you
did
want the
lead. And you admitted you still do.” When he just looked at her, she blew out
her breath and nodded. “Okay, fine. You care about me. I—I care about you, too.
There. I said it. But you can’t protect me, Jase. That’s not how this works. Not
when I’ve worked just as hard as you have for my badge. Not when I’ve worked
just as hard for the opportunity to lead this type of case.”

“And after seeing what you did today, you still want it? It has
nothing to do with you being a woman, either. I mean, even I’m having doubts,
Carrie. I’ve seen some sick things in my time, but what was done to Kelly
Sorenson…”

“Of course I’ve had doubts. I’ve had them throughout my career.
About whether I’m good enough. Whether I can handle it. But one thing I’ve never
doubted is that I’m going to try. I can make a difference in catching this
bastard, and I’m going to. So don’t worry that I’m going to break down and cave
on you. I won’t.”

“I know that. Mansfield seems to think you’re some kind of
supercop when it comes to dealing with the bad stuff.”

“And you?” she asked, not sure why she did. Only certain that
his answer mattered. “What do you think?”

“I agree with him. I also think there must have been some super
bad shit you had to deal with to make you so good at it.”

“Some deep dark history of abuse that toughened me up, you
mean? Careful, you’re stereotyping again. Would you assume that if I wasn’t a
woman?”

“I was actually referring to the job, Carrie. But now that you
mention it, I can’t help but wonder. So did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Have a deep dark history of abuse?”

“I had an ideal childhood, Tyler. You should have figured that
out yourself when you were looking at my photo albums. Normal teenage angst and
all, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You smile a lot in those photos. Up to a point. So what
happened? What made you so much less willing to smile?”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he’d seen so much in the short
time he’d looked at her albums, but it did. She shook her head. “Unless you’re
willing to share some personal information about yourself, I suggest we stop the
‘delve into Carrie’s psyche’ questioning. I remember what happened the last time
I let you in, Jase. I’m not going to fall for it again.”

Leaning farther back in his chair, he clamped his hands behind
his head.

She tried, unsuccessfully, of course, to keep her eyes off his
straining biceps.

“So delve into mine,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “You’re right. I’ve been privy to personal
information about you and I’ve used it to make judgments about you. About what
makes you tick. It seems only fair that you get to do the same.”

“You already told me about the perp who almost killed you. What
now? You’re just going to give me free and total access to your secrets?”

“I honestly don’t have many secrets. If you come across one I’m
not interested in sharing, I’ll tell you. But I know you’re still pissed at me.
If we’re going to work together on this case, we need to work on getting you to
trust me again, too. I figure if I make myself a little more vulnerable to you,
that will make us even.”

“We won’t be ‘even’ unless Commander Stevens asks me about you
and I use whatever information you give me to argue you aren’t capable of
handling a particular assignment.”

“Gotta start somewhere, right?”

“We need to work—”

“We’ve worked so long our eyes are crossing. If you’re going to
chicken out, come up with a better excuse than that, Ward.”

Hand on her hips, she stared at him. When it was obvious he
wasn’t going to relent, she threw up her hands and took her own seat. “Fine. You
want me to ask you something personal? Hmm, let’s see…” She tapped her
forefinger against her chin in an exaggerated manner, then held it up. “I know!”
Despite her joking tone, she felt her expression become serious. “Why do you
date the women you do? Why do you want the easy personal life, the way you
mentioned yesterday? Because in every other aspect of your life, you seem to be
bored with easy.”

He stared at her until she squirmed.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just seem to know me a lot better than I thought
you did.” He shifted in his seat. “You know the debate about nature versus
nurture? People disagree on whether biology is more important to one’s behavior
as an adult or if it depends more on how a person was raised.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, my parents fought a lot.”

“That’s it?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate. “Your parents
fought a lot? So you were nurtured to date a lot? That doesn’t even make sense.
Great way to open yourself up and show your vulnerabilities, Jase. Next time,
don’t waste my time.”

She started to get up, but he held out his hand. “No wait. Hold
on a second and let me explain. I’m serious here.”

Slowly, she lowered herself to her seat.

Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together. For a long
moment, he stared at them, as if their discussion literally had him remembering
a scene from his past. “My parents fought a lot because they both had strong
personalities. Strong passions and opinions. But they disagreed a lot, and
neither one of them liked to back down. It seemed like everything was a fight.
From what to eat for dinner to what route to drive to a particular destination.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized my parents actually enjoyed
fighting. That they got off on it, in a way.”

“Both your parents are cops, aren’t they?”

“That’s right. But I haven’t sworn off relationships with cops
so much as strong women, and strong women generally tend to become cops.”

She smirked. “So rather than risk fighting with a strong woman
your whole life, you date women you can dominate. I guess it makes sense.”

“In a sick way, yeah.”

“Misguided, maybe. I wouldn’t call it sick.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

“Because with the way I was raised, I don’t entirely trust my
nature.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t. My dad—he slapped my mom around.”

It was the last thing she’d been expecting him to say.
“What?”

“It didn’t happen very often, but once in a while, when I was
little, he’d lose control and hit her. And she’d forgive him. Saying that she
baited him.”

“Oh, my God. That’s twisted. As a cop, she would have known
better.”

“She did. But she loved him.”

“And you’re afraid you would hit a strong woman?” She shook her
head vehemently. “That’s ridiculous, Jase. You have more honor and integrity
than that. I practically bit your ear off and you didn’t raise a hand to me.
You’d never hit any woman.” She thought of the way she’d slapped him in anger.
“But I hit you. I’m so sorry.”

“I know why you did. I understand. Which isn’t license for you
to do it again, by the way.”

“But you heard what I said, right? About you being nothing like
your father?”

“I know it’s wrong, but so does he. And he doesn’t do it
anymore. He hasn’t for a very long time, certainly not since I became old enough
to do something about it. But he used to do it, Carrie, and I’m like him in a
lot of other ways. I even look like him.”

“So they’re still together?”

“Yes. They’re still in Texas. My mom stood by him, and he got
help. And part of me is glad. Despite everything…I’m glad. We’ve never talked
about it. Any time I tried, they both denied it. But I know what I saw. I’ve
always known.”

“I imagine it would be hard to bring up. But I meant what I
said, Jase. You don’t have to date passive women because you fear you’ll lose
your temper and become your father.”

“No, I don’t have to, but it sure makes things easier that way.
The job takes so much out of us. I never want to worry about how I’ll act in my
personal life because of it. So what about you?”