Tempted by Fate (36 page)

R
evenge or Ramirez?

Willow studied her lover. She trusted him. Even with her heart, but this was different.

She looked down at Rodgers-Dynes. She owed this to her mother. She needed to do this for herself.

Her father grinned at her, a twisted victory in his eyes that made her want to smash in his face. “Because cops helped you after your mother died, didn’t they?” he taunted.

They didn’t, but she also didn’t try going to them. She was so young, and her mother had told her not to trust anyone, and certainly not to go to the police. They worked for the Bad Man, she’d said. The plan was to escape and hide without notifying anyone. To run. Either way, she was done running.

She looked at Ramirez. Not all policemen could be bought. Had he been a cop back then, he would have helped her.

Revenge or Ramirez?

“Weak, just like your mother.” Rodgers-Dynes twitched in his effort to move.

In the distance, sirens wailed just like at the park, when she first saw Ramirez. She’d been drawn to him then, and she didn’t even know him. Now she knew him and she loved him. There was no question about that. Was that enough, though?

She studied his beautiful, rugged face. Under his collar lay a tattoo. She knew his shape, every contour of his body. There was promise in his eyes, and he’d never renege on a promise. There was also love there. The kind of love she’d never imagined she could have. Full and blooming and healthy, just like his grandmother had said. He may not like her past, but he wouldn’t hold it against her, not if he said he wouldn’t. It was the kind of love her mother would have wanted her to have.

Revenge or love?

Put that way, there was no choice. She released her hold on Rodgers-Dynes. Only she couldn’t resist one last crescent kick. It caught him at the jaw, knocking him out into a heap on the floor. She brushed her hands and turned to Ramirez. “He’s yours.”

As she stepped away from her father—and the anger—the wall inside her trembled. She froze, turning inward. Distantly she heard Ramirez’s concerned shout, but she held up her hand to ward him off. The wall cracked.
Mù ch’i
pushed at it, and it crumbled into dust, revealing that elusive part of her she could never access before. It grew through her, healthy and vibrant, making her feel strong. Whole.

She blinked again and came back to reality, finding herself across Ramirez’s lap, in his arms. Worry lined his face, and she smoothed his brow with her fingers. “Don’t look like that.”

“Don’t look like that?” he said gruffly. “Damn it, Willow, you scared ten years off my life.”

Before she could offer any other reassurances, he kissed her. At first, it tasted of fear and relief and desperation. But it warmed into promise, and then heated into love. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, rising up to meet him.

His hand slid under her shirt, and up her back, finding warmth there. “As much as I want this, this isn’t the time or place. But later…”

“Later?” she asked.

He brushed a kiss on her lips, under the line of her jaw, and in the soft hollow of her collarbone. “Later.”

“Is that a threat?” She tilted her head to one side, being cooperative.

“It’s a promise,” he whispered against her neck. He nipped her there and then lifted her up with him.

Feeling oddly light, she teetered on her boots before finding her equilibrium. She looked at her father one last time. Obviously clearing the aftereffects of her kick, he shook his head, lucid again. Hate glared back at her so forceful, it almost distracted her from the slight movement of his hand. His coat shifted, and she caught the glint of silver under the lapel.

“No you don’t.” She walked toward him and kicked his arm out, stepping on his wrist to prevent him from throwing the star.

“Remind me never to disobey you,” Ramirez said mildly as he picked up the blade.

She rolled her eyes. “Because you’re so obedient.”

His backup arrived at that moment. With a squeeze of her arm, he walked to his team and quietly began issuing orders.

A couple uniformed officers went to collect Rodgers-Dynes. Willow watched as they hauled him to his feet, holding him there because his legs were useless. She felt a tinge of satisfaction. The big bad man wasn’t so bad anymore.

Edward’s head lifted and his pale eyes focused on her. As the officers dragged him past her, he chuckled, a breathy exhale that she felt more than heard. “This isn’t over,” he whispered. “Not in the least.”

She waited for a surge of hate—and fear—to fill her. The distaste was still there, and a pale shadow of the anger. But that was it. She smiled coolly at her father. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

“
Willow.
”

She turned around in time to catch Morgan as she collided into her.

“How did you get here?” Ramirez asked. “You shouldn’t have been allowed on scene.”

“I ducked under the tape. As if anything would stop me.” Morgan squeezed Willow hard before letting her go abruptly. “Are you okay? I was so freaked out. I tried to tell you he’s your—”

“My father.”

Morgan studied her closely. “And how is that for you?”

Willow shrugged, not sure how she felt. “It’s been a tumultuous day.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re the master of understatement.” Morgan turned and smiled cautiously. “Inspector, I’m happy to see you survived this whole thing.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I’m certain about that. I’m not certain what happens
next. Or if my next residence is going to be a small cell shared with a big woman named Bertha.”

Willow grinned at Ramirez. “She’s asking in her warped way whether you’re going to cart us off to jail.”

“The only place I’m taking you is home. My home.” He glanced at Morgan. “You can stay downstairs with my grandmother.”

Her friend smiled at him, full and bright. “If you insist, Inspector. Like I’m going to argue. Your grandmother is an awesome cook.” Her attention suddenly flickered away, and she flushed pink. “Who is
that
?”

Willow turned to look over her shoulder. There was a thin, geeky young man headed straight for them. He was obviously one of Ramirez’s team, but he only had eyes for Morgan.

“Weinberg.” Ramirez shook the man’s hand. “Good work earlier.”

“Thanks, sir,” the geek said, still watching Morgan.

“Morgan, this is Martin Weinberg,” Ramirez said, glancing back and forth between the two. “He’s the one who cracked your firewall.”

“That was
you
?” Morgan and Weinberg said at the same time.

Willow couldn’t keep the broad grin off her face. Ah, geek love.

Ramirez’s hand touched her elbow, and she realized she’d recognize his touch anywhere. Her face warmed with pleasure and anticipation, and she slipped her hand in his. “Take me home.”

R
amirez woke up the next morning alone.

He sat up, instantly alert from years of being on call 24/7. The covers next to him were pushed back, and when he ran his hand along the sheets, they were cool to the touch. Willow had been gone for a while.

But where?

Willow had made her statement to the police after the arrest and they’d arrived home late. He’d expected her to be completely wiped out and had intended on letting her bathe and then tucking her into bed, holding her all night while she slept. He hadn’t counted on her jumping him. Now, thinking on it, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t expect it.

His eyes shot to the spot where he’d thrown her clothing the night before. The relief he felt when he saw it still there was ridiculous.

Getting out of bed, he pulled on a pair of shorts and grabbed a sweatshirt. Instinct told him to look out the window; so as he slipped the shirt over his head, he opened the drapes.

Willow sat crossed-legged on the bench in Lita’s garden. She wore one of his sweatshirts, her long tanned legs gloriously bare just beneath the hem. He wondered if a pair of his boxers or underwear was hidden underneath. She rolled her flute between her fingers as she stared into space.

Something was still wrong.

He snorted. No kidding. Just because they’d caught her Bad Man didn’t mean that everything would suddenly be okay for her. She’d spent pretty much all of her life running from her nemesis—there were going to be repercussions. What that meant for them, he had no idea. She’d told Ramirez she loved him. She hadn’t told him she intended to spend the rest of her life with him. Which, amazingly, was precisely what he wanted.

He padded downstairs and out to the garden.

A quick scan showed that his
abuelita
was conspicuously absent. Not surprising—that woman had an uncanny knack for knowing when to disappear.

Willow looked up, smiling when she saw him.

He sat down next to her and took her hand. “You aren’t supposed to slip out of bed before I wake up.”

Her smile tilted mischievously, and she climbed on his lap, straddling him. “Is that in one of your rule books, Starsky?”

“If it isn’t, it should be.” He slid his hands up her thighs and under the loose leg openings of a pair of his silk boxers, so he cradled her ass. He kissed her, lingering until he was sure he had her attention. “Good morning, Willow.”

“Good morning, Rick.” Her lips curved under his. “Although technically, I think it’s afternoon.”

“So it is.”

She tipped her head and looked at him. “No rushing to get to the office? No fretting about all your cases going unsolved?”

He tightened his arms around her. “Some things are more important.”

“Are they?” she asked, sobering abruptly. She began worrying the flute again, which she held cradled between the two of them.

He sighed. Best to figure this out sooner rather than later. “Willow—”

“We need to talk,” she said, beating him to the punch. “There’s something you need to know.”

The last time there was something he needed to know, she’d told him she was an assassin. He pulled back a little, his hands loose on her hips. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

She shrugged one shoulder, a slight movement that conveyed enough to make him nervous. “Probably not. But before you say what I think you’re going to say, you need to know.”

Since he held her, he could feel her practically vibrating with nerves. This didn’t bode well. As concerned as he was, he wanted to reassure her, too. “Tell me.”

“Not right now.” She framed his face with her hands. “I have a meeting I need to get to, and this isn’t something to rush.”

“Meeting?” He frowned. “What type of meeting?”

“With Maximillian Prescott.” She must have sensed him stiffening, because she quickly added, “Don’t get bent out of shape. It’s not a big thing. I just need to, uh, check in.”

“Check in,” he repeated suspiciously.

Sighing, she dropped her hands. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“No.”

A smile flirted with her lips. “Okay, come with me.”

That surprised him more than her saying she was going to see Max.

“It’s fitting, in a way, that I tell you there,” she said, as if trying to convince herself that it was a good idea. “I’d prefer doing it without an audience, but this particular audience is good backup to have in this instance.”