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  Kyle finally got it, and he mentally kicked himself in the butt for being so dense. Easley and Clewis wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice him for the sake of adding fuel to the fire that was going to burn Jess at the stake. A conviction would make them both look good. Finding Terry Rodin alive would make the whole department a laughingstock. Under no circumstances could they risk the latter possibility actually coming to pass.

  Kyle snatched up the phone, talking as he dialed. “Thanks, Blayney. Sorry I yelled at you. I owe you one.”

  “S’okay, man. You’d do the same for me.”

  Kyle heard his own voice on the answering machine tape, then the beep. “Jess, are you there?” he said. “It’s me, Kyle. I need you to pick up. This is an emergency.”

  She didn’t pick up the phone.

  Kyle issued a pithy curse and hung up. Without a word of explanation to anyone, he left the office, hoping against hope that he wasn’t too late. If his indiscreet behavior cost Jess her freedom, he would never forgive himself.

  And if, by some miracle, he made it home before the reporters got there, he still had to find some way to get her out of his house and then let her go. Forever this time. He could be of no more help to her.

  Chapter 11

  Jess cowered in the bathroom with the lights off. They were outside—reporters, photographers, even a TV news van. The one who’d arrived first had brazenly rung the doorbell. And when she hadn’t answered, he’d started peeking through windows, no doubt trying to get a glimpse of her so he could report, with complete authority, that she was intimate with an investigator working on her case.

  She’d retreated in time to avoid detection, she hoped. Now all she could do was wait until Kyle—the rat—returned and got her out of this mess. He’d sworn no one would know she was here, and she believed him. Then where had these carrion eaters come from?

  She was afraid to discover the answer to that question. If no one had followed them here, the press could have found out her whereabouts from only two sources—Lynn, or Kyle. A clever reporter might have weaseled the information out of Lynn, somehow—posing as a cop or something, intimidating her. That was a reasonable theory.

  She tried not to consider the other alternative. She wouldn’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. She would wait for an explanation.

  She didn’t have to wait long. She heard the garage door opening, Kyle’s car roaring inside, then the door closing again. Soon she heard Kyle’s voice calling softly.

  “Jess? Are you here?”

  She waited until she heard him enter the bedroom. Then she opened the bathroom door a crack. “I’m here.”

  He swiveled around, looking surprised, then concerned. “Jess? You okay?”

  “Depends. Is the coast clear?”

  “If you mean are the reporters still outside, then no, the coast isn’t clear. But they’re not in the bedroom.”

  “They were looking in windows earlier,” Jess explained, emerging from her hiding place like a rabbit from its hole. She felt foolish. “What are they doing here? How did they know?”

  “It’s my fault, I’m afraid.”

  Her heart sank. But as she listened to Kyle’s explanation of how Clewis had cornered him and jumped to an unfortunately correct conclusion, Jess almost felt sorry for him.

  “Not much fun being in the hot seat with that jerk trying to worm information out of you,” she said with a wry smile. “I can vouch for that.”

  Although they were still in a jam, she felt relieved that Kyle had provided a reasonable explanation for how the reporters had found her. Now she was ashamed to admit that she’d been afraid her on-again, off-again white knight had betrayed her.

  “Did you talk to them?” she asked, keeping her voice almost to a whisper for fear the rat finks outside might pick her up with some supersensitive microphone.

  “Yeah. I rolled down my window and asked what the hell they were doing camped out on my front lawn. They asked me if you were here, and I just acted bewildered.”

  “Are you a good actor?” she asked.

  “I don’t have any idea.” He walked over to the window and peeked out the curtain. “They’re not going anywhere.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “We wait, I guess. I brought home a pizza.”

  Jess was still stuffed from breakfast. “I can’t stay here. I need to be at home.”

  “I agree. It’s probably best if we part company before we do any real damage to each other.”

  She felt vaguely disappointed that he’d agreed with her so readily, although she knew that was stupid. Had she expected him to declare his undying loyalty to her, that he intended to protect and shelter her even at the expense of his job? What hogwash.

  “We could smuggle you out,” Kyle suggested.

  “How?” She was picturing herself in a disguise. A hat and Groucho Marx glasses wouldn’t fool that bunch outside, but at least the photographs wouldn’t be easily recognizable.

  “In my car,” Kyle answered. “In the trunk.”

  “No, no, no, no, no,” was Jess’s immediate response. “I’m claustrophobic.”

  “It would only be for a little while,” Kyle reasoned. “Just long enough that I could drive away and make sure no one was following. Then I’d let you out, and I’ll drop you off at the library like we’d originally planned.”

  His plan made sense, she conceded. Still, the mere thought of being closed up in a dark automobile trunk, unable to release herself, made her palms clammy and her stomach clench. It made her think of coffins, and being buried alive. She shook her head. “I just don’t think—”

  “Then we’ll have to wait them out,” he said easily, as if it didn’t make much difference to him which choice she made. Sure, of course he didn’t care. He wasn’t a virtual prisoner. He could come and go as he pleased. And he didn’t have to contemplate being folded up into a car trunk like someone’s dirty laundry...

  Oh, stop it, she chastised herself. She was being melodramatic and self-pitying again. Kyle’s plan for smuggling her out of this mess made perfect sense. “Could I have a flashlight in the trunk with me?”

  He smiled. “Of course. You’ll be in there five minutes, no more. Promise.”

  She found herself smiling back. She trusted him. Then she felt something else, that insidious, uncontrollable longing for his closeness that took over her body during unguarded moments. His gaze caught and held hers, and she felt for a moment that his thoughts had to be echoing hers, that he would take a step forward and reach for her, hold her in the comfort of his arms...and more.

  Then, without warning, he turned away from her and headed out of the bedroom.

  She had to fight the irrational urge to burst into tears of pure frustration. What was it about this man? Was it just that circumstances had forced them into a peculiar intimacy, or did she really feel something for him?

  “Pizza’s in here,” he said, leading the way to the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”

  Yeah—starved for him. She felt something for him, all right, pure and hot and undeniable. She also knew she’d set herself up for disappointment with Kyle. Whether he felt the same way about her was a moot point by now. He was off-limits. After today, they wouldn’t see each other. He’d said so. She agreed it was for the best.

  That thought didn’t help the lump that had formed in her throat, making normal breathing nearly impossible.

  She could only pick at the pizza. Kyle kept glancing up at her from across the kitchen table, appearing concerned, and he finally asked her, “You okay? You sound funny.”

  “Just nerves,” she said. “About the trunk.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  “I know. I trust you, Kyle. I’m lucky you don’t just turn me over to the wolves. My being here would look worse for me than for you.”

  “I would never do that. Having you sleep here was my idea, after all.”

  “And I’m the id
iot who mislaid her car.”

  “I think there’s plenty of blame for us both to feel guilty and stupid,” he said with a grin. He grasped her hand. “Let’s just move forward, okay?”

  She nodded, determinedly swallowing the lump in her throat. If only she could move forward, and forget that the past nine days had ever happened. If only she’d met Kyle under different circumstances.

  Quickly she released his hand and stood before he could see the moisture gathering in her eyes. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Kyle nodded solemnly. He then led her out to the garage, where the red Mustang awaited them. He found a flashlight in a cupboard, tested it, handed it to her. “I just put new batteries in last month. Should be good to go.”

  Jess tested the device, assuring herself it worked.

  The trunk was minuscule, much smaller than she’d imagined, and for a moment her courage waned.

  Probably sensing her fear, Kyle put a reassuring arm around her. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I won’t suffocate?”

  “There’s air enough in there to last for hours. Think of it as a cozy little cocoon.”

  She gave him a dubious look. “If you say so.” She started to climb in, but abruptly he pulled her to him. She was so surprised to find herself pressed against his chest, her head nestled under his chin, that for several moments all she could do was gasp for air.

  “Jess, I’m sorry for all this. I never dreamed it would end up like this. I was only trying to help.”

  “I know that,” she murmured, enduring the exquisite torture of his nearness with saintly restraint. She freed the arm that was pinned between them and slipped it around his waist. Very saintly, almost like a sister.

  He wasn’t satisfied with that. He placed a hand along her jaw and tilted her face up to his. “If I don’t do this now, I won’t get another chance.” He captured her unprotesting lips in his and kissed her deeply, as if it was a matter of life and death.

  She responded eagerly. Her body tingled as she pressed closer to him, aching for more than this single, soulshattering kiss. She prolonged the embrace for as long as she could, until both of them needed to breathe. Then they parted mouths jerkily, gasping for air. He pressed her cheek against his neck, and she could actually hear his pulse pounding, matching hers in its rhythm.

  “Life’s not really fair,” she said in a faint voice. “But I guess I already knew that.”

  “It has its moments.” Then, as if the past couple of minutes hadn’t happened, he added, “C’mon, in you go.”

  Like a diver about to go under, Jess took a deep breath and climbed into the trunk. There was a folded blanket to pillow her head, and if she arranged her legs around the spare tire just right, it was almost comfortable.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay.” He gave her the thumbs-up sign. She flipped on the flashlight, and he slammed the lid.

  This isn’t so bad, she told herself. She could breathe fine, and there was plenty of light. She looked at her watch. Five minutes to two. At two o’clock Kyle would let her out. She would count the seconds.

  The Mustang’s engine rumbled to life. The garage door opened, and the car reversed down the driveway. There it stopped. She could hear muffled voices but couldn’t understand the words.

  After a few moments, the car was in motion again. It accelerated, and although she couldn’t see out, Jess knew they were going fast. Kyle turned a corner, and she slid across the carpeted trunk, burning her elbow. There was nothing to hang on to! Now they were traveling over some kind of rough terrain, and she bounced around like a marble in a shaking jar. Was that a curb he just hit? She bounced and banged her head on the trunk lid.

  What the hell did he think he was doing?

  The car came to an abrupt stop. A door opened. Jess waited. Her breathing sounded as if she was in a wind tunnel. The trunk lid popped open, and Kyle stood grinning in at her. They were in a deserted alley overgrown with hackberry trees and forsythia bushes.

  “Three and a half minutes,” he said triumphantly. “See, I didn’t keep you in there for long.”

  “Yeah? Well, you didn’t tell me you were going to drive through a field of boulders at seventy miles an hour, either.”

  Immediately his smile faded. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  She ignored his proffered hand and climbed awkwardly out of the trunk by herself. “I hit my head,” she huffed, though now that she could see the light of day and breathe fresh air, the experience was starting to seem funny. “And I have a carpet burn on my arm.” She showed him the faint pink spot on her elbow.

  “Here, I can make it better.” He grasped her arm and, before she could guess his intentions, had pressed his lips to the injury. The contact stung slightly, but that was nothing compared to the zing that went through the rest of her body.

  “And where did you bump your head?”

  He had better not kiss her there, not here in broad daylight, not when his slightest touch made her melt into his arms. “It’s fine,” she said sharply, ducking away from him. She slammed the trunk. “Are we in the clear?”

  “Yeah, I lost the guy who was following us a couple of miles ago. We’re safe now.”

  “Then we’d better get to the library.” She skittered around to the passenger door and let herself inside the car.

  Moments later Kyle slid behind the wheel. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he kicked the car into gear. “I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”

  “I feel the same way,” she said, then added with an air of practicality, “must be all the adrenaline. I like to blame everything on adrenaline, sleep depravation and poor eating habits.”

  “Don’t forget hormones. They’re to blame somehow.”

  “Definitely. The only thing missing in this combination is common sense.”

  “Amen to that. I think we see things the same way.”

  Kyle knew that if he returned home, he risked losing his temper and decking one of those reporters. So instead he went back to the office. There was something he’d been meaning to check out, and he needed to consult his notes on Jess and get the name and number of his contact from Boston to do it.

  Better that he make the call now, before Kevin Gilpatrick put that bug about Barnstable County in someone else’s ear. Kyle figured he would discover Jess had had a minor brush with the taw—traffic tickets, marijuana, underage drinking. Then he could report it to Clewis and Easley. They would see that he was being thorough. He might have the hots for Jess Robinson, but that didn’t mean he’d suddenly turned into a lousy cop.

  It was a damn shame he wouldn’t see her again. But she’d been right that they lacked common sense—he especially. They were living in a fishbowl now. One wrong move and the consequences could affect them for the rest of their lives.

  The memory of her kisses, her touch, her smell, would haunt him, he knew, especially knowing that they could have made love and hadn’t. Last night she’d been willing, and he’d been tempted. But she’d also been half out of her mind with exhaustion. So he’d settled for sleeping with his body curved around hers, his arousal nestled against her bottom. Even the way she’d breathed had turned him on.

  He still didn’t know how he’d managed to get any sleep at all under those circumstances.

  He stopped by the break room to get coffee before tackling his tasks. He’d just filled his mug when Clewis’s grating voice reached him, along with the slap of crepe-soled shoes on linoleum heading closer.

  Kyle gripped his mug tightly enough that he was sure it would break. In focusing on Jess, he’d forgotten for a few minutes that their misadventures this morning were Clewis’s fault. Now Kyle had to apply all of his willpower not to turn around and punch his fellow detective right in his paunchy stomach.

  He waited, biding his time, until Clewis was close behind him, apparently waiting for access to the coffee machine. Kyle abruptly turned, ran smack into Clewis and dumped most of his hot coffee down the f
ront of the other man’s shirt.

  Clewis screeched and jumped back, plucking at his soaked shirtfront. “You clumsy idiot!” Then he looked up and saw who’d assaulted him. A look of consternation froze on his face.

  Kyle smiled blandly and shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were there.”

  “You son of a bitch! You did that on purpose.”

  Kyle remained unruffled by the perfectly justified accusation. He grabbed a wad of paper napkins from the counter and handed them to Clewis. “Now, Bill, why would you think that? Is there some reason you believe I should be angry with you?”

  Clewis snatched the napkins away from Kyle and began sopping up the brown mess that had stained his white shirt. It struck Kyle as odd that Clewis was so dressed up.

  “Nice suit, Bill. I don’t recall that you were wearing it earlier. Did you have plans for something...important? A meeting with the press, perhaps?”

  “Does a guy have to have a reason to wear a suit?”

  “On an ordinary day around here, he does.”

  “What are you doing back here, anyway? I heard you flew out of here a couple of hours ago like a bat out of hell.” Clewis tossed the sodden napkins toward the garbage can, missed and didn’t bother to pick up the misdirected trash.

  “It was...too quiet at home,” Kyle answered. “Lonely. No one around.”

  Clewis stared at him, too dense to catch Kyle’s sarcasm.

  “What’s the matter, Bill? Are you puzzled by the fact that I’m not, even now, trying to explain to the press why I’m sheltering a murder suspect at my house? Well, I did speak to one or two reporters. Seems they got a bad anonymous tip, some completely off-the-wall jerk who claimed I was sleeping with Jess Robinson. I can’t imagine who would tell them such a thing.”

  Kyle actually enjoyed the play of emotions on Clewis’s face. The other man’s train of thought was as clear as if he’d written it down on paper. He was thinking “How did I get this wrong?” and he was wanting to confront Kyle, accuse him of dropping misleading information on purpose. But to do so would have been admitting he was the one who’d called the newspaper and TV stations.