While You Were Dead (5 page)

She stared hard into those dear, smiling blue eyes. “A life sentence,” she whispered.

A single floorboard creaked somewhere behind her, the soft noise all the warning she had.

“Hands in the air! Don’t move!” Even filled with menace, the liquid chocolate of his voice melted her inside, just like the first time she’d heard it. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me exactly who you are and what you’re doing in my niece’s bedroom.”

“One.”

Kat couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Time slid into super-slow motion.

“Two.”

Emotions raced fast. Intense joy, stunned disbelief, anger. At him. At herself.

“Three.”

Would he shoot her? She almost laughed but opened her eyes instead, finding Lizzie’s picture wall. He’d stolen her daughter. He’d lied to her all these years by not letting her know he was alive. Worst of all, his lies confirmed he’d meant it when he threw her away.

“Four.”

Kat wheeled with a low growl. “How dare you threaten me? You son of a bitch!”

Max froze but Kat paid no attention to his reaction. Her eyes couldn’t get enough, despite rage so furious it shook her, despite all her courtroom training. . .Max. Right in front of her, in the flesh.

“Kat,” he whispered, shock making his eyes clear mirrors to his emotions. “Baby.”

The pull of his voice was a magnet, propelling her forward, into his arms, back to the past. A soft cry, nearly a whimper, spilled out of her throat. Max took a step forward to meet her and she raised her hands to ward off another. She couldn’t do this–not now, when the astonishment of his betrayal still had her dazed and reeling.

She eyed the bedroom door, but her feet wouldn’t move. Frantically searching, she cast back into memories for strength. Her rituals. . .bitter, painful and nauseating. Her shoulders straightened.

Court. This time she wasn’t a witness for the prosecution, she was the District Attorney. If she lost, she’d lose everything, including maybe her sanity. Her heart calmed. “You’re alive.” Hearing her own voice, cool with accusation, helped soothe her emotions. All she had to do was build her case, nail his coffin shut again, and leave.

“You’re so beautiful.” Max took another step forward.

Kat wanted to run, but she forced her feet not to move. No sign of weakness, no hint of what he’s still capable of doing to you. She forced a laugh but the sound wasn’t strong enough. “Still the charmer, I see.” No, not nearly strong enough. She cleared her throat. He took another step. She stepped back.

“I’m so sorry, Kat.”

Her heart lurched and began to fracture. Real fear gnawed at the fragile wall of confidence she’d hastily built. “I didn’t expect to see you. Miriam didn’t. . ..”

“You know Miriam?”

“Yes, I–after you, when I read you were missing. . .” Her voice trailed away. She couldn’t do this. “We write. But I haven’t heard from her, and I was worried.” Her words were too rushed, spilling over each other. Helplessly, she took another step back.

“She’s in the hospital. In Denver.”

“Is it serious?” Fear for Lizzie mushroomed inside.

“Kidney transplant.” The words seemed to be some sort of a test.

Kat knew the answer. “Her diabetes. She was always afraid something like that would happen.” She continued–couldn’t stop the words even though she tried. “Her daughter?”

“She’s in Denver with me. I came home for clothes. You live in Colorado, don’t you?”

She gave a quick nod. “It’s good to see you,” she murmured, shuffling back another step. Crazy to have this conversation. Crazy to try for normal. “I should go.”

Max acted like he didn’t hear her. “I never meant to hurt you, baby.” His eyes wooed her, eating away her resolve, her wall, pulling her close.

Another whimper escaped and Kat turned toward the door. “I have to go.”

Not quick enough. Max caught her from behind, hands gentle on her upper arms as he stepped up behind her, to fit their bodies together. She belonged here. Next to him.

Panic surged. A sharp inhalation stifled another cry but did nothing to ward off the thrill of his touch. Her skin sang, her heart raced and the faint scent of his spicy aftershave surrounded her like a sweet memory.

“Don’t,” she whispered, pleading now, not caring if he knew.

He ignored the word, bending his head to nuzzle behind her ear. Breathing her in with a soft sigh of satisfaction. Of relief. She knew because her entire body was afloat in it. Pure sweet respite from years of pain and longing. “I can’t help it, Kat. You can’t either. We never could.”

The words were a bridge to the past, urging her back, just as his hands urged her to turn, to listen to her heart and wrap her arms around him, thread her fingers through his hair and taste him. She nearly succumbed before she realized what she was doing.

His lips grazed her throat. His hands settled across her middle, just below her breasts, warm and strong. Every urge to flee disappeared. Just like in her nightly dreams, her traitorous, hungry body wanted to weep with sweet consolation. Her head turned, allowing him closer access to her throat.

A soft moan was the only physical sign of the tremendous battle she fought against him. When his hands slid to her waist, her body betrayed her mind, allowing him to turn her. His palms cupped her face, turning it up to his. Kat closed her eyes. Why didn’t she move?

Kick! Scream! Another moan. Denial? No. Harsh, brutal exposure. With no way to stop it.

Her mind defected, forsaking her as swiftly as the severing thrust of a blade. She swayed toward him. Then his lips were on hers, soft and warm, unlike any kiss she’d ever experienced.

She expected hot, bold passion. Instead the kiss teased and whispered, so gentle it stripped away the rest of her defenses. Kat’s tears burned and spilled, but she couldn’t stop them–couldn’t stop herself or him when she’d lived for this impossible moment for years.

Max shifted his kiss from her lips to her streaming eyes and Kat slid her arms around him, fingers gathering handfuls of his thick sweater, clutching tight and holding on because he was suddenly the only solid thing in a world horribly skewed.

Max didn’t try to stop her tears as he scattered soft kisses over her hair, her cheek, her ear. His arms tightened around her and he sighed. “Sweetheart, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

She knew exactly how long. . .how much pain. Like a frigid shower of wet snow, his words opened shell-shocked arteries and blood flowed back into her brain. Her head snapped up so quickly she whacked his jaw. The pain actually felt good, normal.

“I’ve missed you so damn much, Kat.”

But she’d missed him too damn much. Fought too hard. She almost laughed when her watch beeped a timed warning. If she didn’t leave now, she’d miss her flight to see her mother in North Carolina. From somewhere deep inside she found strength and turned away from him. She knew he could easily pull her back, talk her out of leaving. That knowledge scared her to death.

“It was good to see you.” She took the three steps to the open door, blocked out the pull of his hasty protest, closed her ears to the words and the emotions behind them. In the hall she placed a flat hand against the wall for support while she cleared away tears with the other. Then she bolted. Down the stairs, out the door, into her car and out of Wyoming. When she got home to Denver, she’d grab her waiting suitcase and bolt out of Colorado, too. In the meantime, she cursed herself, cursed him, and cursed her mother.

Max heard the back door slam shut. He used every ounce of control and ended up racing after her anyway. He tripped over the pile of Lizzie’s dirty clothes, dumped at the bottom of the stairs earlier. By the time he made it to the back door, there was only the tail end of her car, disappearing out of the alley.

Silver Lexus SUV. He crammed the license plate number into memory even as he returned to the house and reviewed the list of items he was home to retrieve. She’d never been a risk-taker, never exceeded the speed limit, but how could he tell if that still applied? No matter. Easy enough to find out where she lived once he got back to Denver. And next time, he wouldn’t be so flipped out over seeing her–holding her–that he’d let her just waltz away.

He’d tried to stay away, tried to ignore her career. He hadn’t succeeded. He knew how good she was and had heard her praised, in print and in person by district attorneys, police and, grudgingly, a few defense attorneys. Prosecutors loved Kat. Jurors did too. She dissected the defense’s mumbo-jumbo and presented facts. Facts so plain Joe and Jane Juror could easily understand the scumbag on trial for murder wasn’t crazy. Evil, yes, but not crazy. The police loved her, too. They caught the criminals, collected the evidence and Kat didn’t let the perpetrator wiggle out of justice. Max read every word on every case. He couldn’t help it. She was a magnet; he was steel.

For now, he’d left Lizzie alone with a sick Miriam for too long. Maybe tomorrow, when his nephew arrived, he’d be able to steal a little time and find Kat. Find out what business she’d had in Lizzie’s bedroom, staring at pictures and crying. She’d found him. Took her seven years longer than it took him. But the years didn’t explain a damn thing.

Hours later, Lizzie barely acknowledged his presence when he stepped inside Miriam’s room. But he saw the relief in her eyes and smiled. She wasn’t a teenager yet–as much as she wanted to be. He could still talk her out of her sulks faster than anyone. He tossed her a small CD case on his way around the bed to kiss Miriam’s cheek.

Miriam looked relieved he was back, too. Dark circles around her eyes proclaimed her exhaustion and Max picked up her hand. “I think we’ll go get something to eat, if that’s all right with you.” He heard Lizzie jump to her feet even as Miriam nodded and closed her eyes.

“Be good, baby girl,” she murmured faintly and Lizzie snorted, but she did pat Mim’s cheek.

“I’m always good, aren’t I, Uncle Max?”

“Oh, always,” he agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm as he followed her out into the hall.

“I’m starving.” She took his hand, but sent him a cross glare. “What took you so long? Let’s go to the cafeteria. The nurse said they don’t feed the good stuff to the patients. Then maybe we can go to the movies. They’re showing all the Terminator movies in a row.”

“Terminator’s not ‘G’ rated, Lizard.”

“Why would we want to go to a ‘G’ movie?”

“Because you’re ten.”

“Did you like ‘G’ movies when you were ten?”

Max decided he’d quit while he was ahead. His cell phone rang just as they set their trays down on a table in the mostly-deserted cafeteria. Lizzie happily pulled her pudding close and Max decided not to fight with her.

“Max, it’s Craig.” Craig Johnson was Max’s assistant, running things while Max was in Denver. Max had seen him that morning, before he’d gone to Miriam’s. Before he’d seen Kat again. With an effort, he pulled his thoughts back to Craig, who still hadn’t stopped for a breath. “We’ve got a sensor problem at Sutton’s. You took a copy of the blueprints with you to Denver, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, they’re in the car. Hang on a sec,” he instructed Craig and glanced at Lizzie. “Stay–”

“Put. Yeah, yeah,” Lizzie interrupted.

“Eat your lasagna,” he ordered gruffly.

She gave him a knowing smile and reached for her chocolate brownie. “No business at dinner time. If you can break the rules, so can I.”

Max couldn’t help his smile. He got to his feet. On the deserted table next to them was a forgotten copy of the entertainment section of the Denver Post. Max set it down next to Lizzie’s tray. “Find us a decent movie. I’ll be right back.” Lizzie gave him a wink as she reached for the paper, cramming her mouth full of sticky brownie at the same time. Max yanked on a lock of her blond hair and returned his attention to Craig. “What’s the problem with the sensors?”

“It’s the dog. Remember Fluffy?”

Max rolled his eyes. Fluffy was a tiny yapping rat, not a dog. Barely six inches off the floor. Kat had a dog like that when he’d first met her. “I remember.”

“Yeah. I thought you would. Remember how we placed the sensors at two feet, so she wouldn’t set them off? Turns out Fluffy’s not only loud, she’s a jumper. Four and a half feet, if you can believe it.”

Max shook his head. Spike. Kat’s little dog was Spike.

Stop it!

Max resolutely opened the door of his truck to rifle in the small back seat for his briefcase. He found the plans and spread them out over the driver’s seat, identifying the problem immediately. Unfortunately, solving it took minutes more, especially because Kat and her damn little dog kept popping up in front of this blueprints. Thanks to Kat, he’d been gone fifteen before he strolled back into the cafeteria. After sitting around with Miriam nearly all day, his niece was not going to be happy. He might have to take her to see Vin Diesel after all. Would Lizzie like a dog?

Lizzie wasn’t there. Max frowned. Their table was just the way he’d left it, with his late lunch cooling on his tray. Lizzie had taken a couple of bites of lasagna. The newspaper was on the floor.