Trial by Fire (21 page)

He looked away, mouth thinning. “Not much chance of that.”

“Why not?” Next to her, he stiffened. “Howard?”

“I use a condom only for disease protection. I can’t have children,” he said quietly.

Stunned, at a loss, she stared at him. Howard was one of the most virile men she’d ever laid eyes on, and he couldn’t have kids? A memory seized her, of Howard gazing at little Emily Jean’s antics in the park. A look of stark longing etched on his face. An innocuous moment pulled into sharp focus.

There are things you don’t know about me. Things that might change your mind.

“Bet you weren’t expecting to hear that.” His slight smile was lopsided and sad.

“God, sweetie,” she breathed. “I—I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged, but didn’t quite succeed in hiding his regret behind false indifference. “It’s a fact about me, like my eye color. No big deal.”

Oh, she didn’t believe that nonsense for a second. “So you were born unable to father children?”

“No. That’s not what I meant.”

His tone said
subject closed.
Curious, she pushed a tad more. “Then what happened?”

He sighed, perhaps wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “Remember I told you my father dumped me in the woods before he took off and crashed his truck?” She nodded, her silence urging him to continue. “Before the bastard left me, he beat me nearly to death.”

Kat pressed her fingers over her mouth in shock. Howard’s father had attempted to murder his own son. How could anyone do something so horrible to a little boy?

“It’s ancient history, Kat,” Howard said, tipping her chin up with one finger. “I beat the odds and survived. Because I was so sick with a prolonged raging fever, my sperm didn’t. End of story.”

Not by a long shot. She was beginning to realize there was much more to Howard Paxton than she’d ever believed. A part of him that he kept buried in the grave of his past, never to be resurrected. He’d made it clear he was finished discussing his ghosts, but there were many more where this revelation had come from. She was certain.

Howard didn’t want to reopen his wounds for anyone, even her. And if he forever withheld a vital part of himself, refused to talk with her about important matters, putting her off with hot sex—glorious as it was— as an invisible barrier, the distance would slowly wear on them both. Even now, he was avoiding discussing the reason he was there.

The first sign of real trouble in paradise.

Letting him off the hook for the time being, she brought the conversation back to the present. “Do you want children eventually? There are other options.”

He raised a dark brow. “Do you?”

“I asked first.”

“Someday,” he hedged. “There’s always adoption.”

She tried an encouraging smile. “You bet. Hey, you didn’t turn out so bad, right?”

Her teasing coaxed a small smile from him. “I don’t know. Ask Bentley and Georgie on Saturday.”

“I will.” She poked a finger in his chest. “Now, are you going to keep running me in circles, or tell me what brought you to my door, looking like a car crash victim?”

If he noticed she hadn’t answered his question about kids, he didn’t let on. She wasn’t avoiding the issue, but she sensed that if she allowed him to turn the subject off himself, wringing the truth from him would prove even more difficult.

“When do you have to be at work?”

Sitting up, she glanced at the clock. Damn. “In an hour, and I still have to get showered and dressed. Why don’t I call in, tell them I’ll be a little late? They can get someone to cover my class.”

“No, don’t do that.” Slipping from the bed, he stood and raked a hand through his spiky hair. Frustration etched lines around his mouth. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? Then I’ll drive you to work. We can talk on the way.”

Thus allowing Howard to distance himself from whatever was upsetting him. If he had to pay attention to the road, he could retreat, so to speak. But unless she wanted to wait and wonder all day, what else could she do?

“All right. Want to wash my back?” She began to crawl out of bed, pausing to shake her bottom and waggle her brows.

Which earned her a swift smack on one butt cheek.

Kat squealed. “Oow! Hey!” Scrambling from the bed, she stood rubbing her bottom, scowling at his shit-eating grin. “I’ll get you for that, Lieutenant. When you don’t see it coming.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he drawled. “Unless you can deliver.”

“Oh, you!” Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she turned and headed into her bathroom. Only when the water had heated in the shower and she stepped in did she realize he wasn’t going to join her.

And that he’d managed to use his charm to temporarily distract her from his continued withdrawal.

The knowledge put a damper on her spirits, so she countered the self-defeating doubt with the facts. One, when the chips were down, her big, strong man beat a path to
her
door. Launched himself into
her
arms. Two, they were still getting to know one another, and men historically required more time than women to “come around,” as her mother was fond of saying. She just had to be patient.

Twenty-five minutes later, dressed in black pants and a blue sweater, hair pulled up and clipped in a simple twist, Kat gave her appearance a final, critical eye in the mirror. Not bad, considering how fast she’d put herself together. She wanted to make sure Howard had time to explain what was going on before her duties interrupted.

She found him in the living room, dressed once more in his smoky work clothes, wearing a trench in the carpet. Every female hormone in her body sighed in appreciation of him, so tall and breathtaking, commanding with his mere presence. She had to remind herself that he was keeping secrets. And wouldn’t share, if something drastic didn’t force his hand.

“I have a few minutes,” she said. He turned to face her, and she gestured to the sofa, injecting steel into her voice. “Sit, and lay it on me. We’re not leaving here until you do.”

Resigned, Howard lowered himself to the cushions with a weary sigh, elbows on his knees. She went to sit beside him, waiting with growing alarm. Whatever she’d imagined was wrong, nothing could match the electric shock his next words sent singing through her body.

“I’ve been targeted by the murderer who torched Sherri Pearce.”

She gaped at him, trying to assimilate this information into something that made sense. “Wh-what? Targeted, how?”

Hands clasped between his spread knees, he looked at her, brown gaze filled with misery. Guilt. “He’s left photos of the victims specifically for me to find. No note, no other clues.”

“Wait. Victims, plural?” She stared at him, feeling as though she’d stepped off a ledge into empty air.

“Yeah. We got another call last night. A woman, bound to a bed and set on fire, but we didn’t know until we entered the house. When we got back . . .” He paused, swallowed hard, eyes darkening in memory. “The bastard had somehow gotten inside the station, found my bunk. He left the woman’s cell phone on my bed, and when I flipped it open . . . oh, God.”

Howard’s shoulders slumped, and he buried his face in his hands. Kat laid a palm on his broad back. “Tell me.”

“He’d used a picture of her as the screen saver.” His voice was almost inaudible. “She was screaming . . . burning.”

Horrified for the poor woman, for Howard, Kat slipped her arm around his waist. Rather than peppering him with questions, she waited, hoping he’d open up. Get the grief and anger he must be feeling off his chest.

“Why is he doing this?” Howard agonized, lifting his head. “Is he killing them because of me, as punishment for something I’ve done wrong? I’d never be able to live with that.”

No, he wouldn’t. The knowledge terrified her. “You don’t know what’s in his sick mind, Howard. No more than you can control his actions.”

He barked a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing with barely suppressed rage. “And he’s loving the hell out of it, too. Saving lives is more than my job, it’s my passion, my legacy from Bentley. And for some reason, the monster is getting his kicks by rubbing my nose in failure. No, he’s
reveling
in torturing me.”

Therein lies the truth.
Kat shivered, unable to suppress the notion that Howard hit closer to the mark than he realized. “What about the first picture? Did he leave it on your bunk with the second one?”

Howard shifted, glancing at her uneasily. “No. I found it stuck in my front door in an envelope, late Sunday night.”

Frowning, she began to follow the thread to its natural conclusion. And didn’t like what she found one bit. “Monday night, you didn’t say a word, even after the call from Detective Ford.” Thinking back, she stiffened, removing her arm from around him. “I asked you why he phoned, and you lied to me.”

After they’d had hot, pulse-pounding sex.

After she’d opened herself to him in a way she’d never done with any man.

“I didn’t want you involved unless—”

“I’m the only witness to murder, and I’m seeing the man he’s jacking with.” Angry, she pushed off the sofa. “What part of my
involvement
didn’t you get?”

“I didn’t want to scare you unnecessarily.”

She glared at him, incredulous. Damn it, she felt bad about what he was going through, but he had to understand the seriousness of his mistake. “Well, I guess that makes it all right, then. Because God knows I’d much rather be dead than afraid and prepared.”

Howard closed his eyes, hung his head. “Jesus.”

Stepping away from where he was seated, she turned from him and crossed her arms over her chest to hide the tremor in her hands. To conceal the blooming fear, squeezing her throat with cold, bony fingers.

What if the killer had come after her last night instead?

What if that plan was still on his hideous agenda?

She heard the rustle of his clothing as he stood and moved to stand behind her. Big hands caressed her shoulders, and his warm breath fanned against her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he entreated softly. “Forgive me.”

His quiet, heartfelt plea melted her, though she remained firm against giving in just yet. He’d made the wrong decision for the right reasons, but the fact was he’d lied. Flat out. To her face.

“I can forgive a lot of things, but lying isn’t usually one of them. Especially if the fib can get my ass toasted like a marshmallow.” She turned in his arms, and the deep hurt in his eyes speared her heart. Reaching up, she cupped one shadowed cheek. “Promise me it won’t happen again, Lieutenant.”

“God, yes.” Wrapping his arms around her, he crushed her to his chest. “I promise. I’d never do anything to put you in danger, you know that. Baby, I’ll protect you with my life.”

She burrowed into the solid wall of his body, hugging him close. Accepting. “Then I forgive you, but I’m sure it won’t come to anything so dire. The police will catch him.”

“I’m sure they will.” He sounded as convinced as she was, which wasn’t much. Letting go, he pulled back and tipped her chin up with one finger, giving her a slow kiss. “I’d better get you to work before you get a tardy.”

She heaved a shaky sigh, glad to put the unhappiness aside, even temporarily. “Students get tardies. Teachers just get annoyed e-mails from the principal.”

“Which all of you promptly delete and ignore.”

“Because that’s what you guys do when the brass gets their boxers in a bunch?”

He grinned. “I’ll never tell. Might get back to Bentley. ”

Sending him a wan smile, she retrieved her purse and bookbag from the end of the sofa. Deep down, she was still upset with Howard for keeping the truth from her, and anger sat in her stomach like a brick. She’d never been able to stand a man who could lie without batting an eyelash, and the man she’d fallen for had done it easily.

With good reason.

She wished she had time to talk to Grace, but her sister was probably already headed to court. She could use a dose of her sibling’s wisdom and serenity right about now.

“I’m not totally back in your good graces, am I?”

Damn. She could hardly fault the man for being less than honest, then follow suit. “No, but I’m working on it.”

“Ouch.” Wincing, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking very much like a boy who’d lost his best friend. A two-hundred-sixty-pound boy with line-backer shoulders. “Let me make it up to you.”

She cocked her head. “I’m listening.”

“Dinner out, like we’d planned,” he said, a hopeful look on his handsome face. “My place afterwards. Bring a bag, and your appetite for bacon and eggs.”

“Hmm. Presumptuous.”

“Begging mercy.”

“I highly doubt you’ve ever begged for anyone’s mercy in your life, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Closing the short distance between them, he took one of her hands in his. “Please come over tonight, Kat. Stay with me.”

Lord, what a tempting offer. Her resistance was taking a beating under his gentle assault. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll pick you up at work around four.”

“I can drive myself, you know. I’m not helpless.”

“Absolutely not. Until this maniac is caught, I’m not letting you out of my sight more than necessary. You’re safer with me.”

“Howard—”

“Forget it.”

Oh! Stubborn man! “Fine. We have a staff meeting this afternoon. Better make it four thirty.”
Way to stick to your guns, girlfriend.

Triumph flickered in his eyes, and his lips curved into a sensual smile. “It’s a date.”

“Didn’t say I’d stay.”

With that, she hiked up her bookbag and marched out. His amused chuckle floated in her wake, ringing in her ears. They both knew she’d dissolve into a gooey puddle at his first touch. Angry or not, her resistance would incinerate as his rough palms slid over her skin. As his length slipped between her thighs, impaled her throbbing sex.

She already wanted him again. Anywhere, any way she could have him. And she would, tonight.

Until then, she had only to survive the longest frigging day on record.

And somehow, try to dispel the feeling that they’d merely placed a Band-Aid over a festering wound in their blossoming relationship.

To shake the awful suspicion that Howard’s body might be hers, but his secrets would always be his to keep.

13

“If you’re gonna screw up, might as well do it royally,” Howard muttered, dragging his sorry carcass into his bedroom.

Kat had been upset at his delay in telling her about his tie to the killer, but she’d been angry and hurt by his outright lie regarding Detective Ford’s call. A fine woman like her would tolerate that sort of mistake only once, and causing her pain lanced him like an ice pick in the chest.

Problem was, he’d never learned to play show-and-tell with the bad stuff—and had no idea how to share the load after thirty-six years of keeping the crap locked in a tamper-proof box.

Trailing clothes across the floor, he lurched for the sanctuary of his bed. Wearing only his boxers, he flopped onto the soft mattress with a bone-weary groan. The shower could wait. At the moment, he couldn’t move if the heavenly trumpets sounded, announcing the judgment.

Judgment.

The word chased him into exhausted sleep, conjuring the lurking demons. Manifesting them into the monster flying through the moonlit night.
Crashing through prickly brush and skeletal trees behind him as he ran for his life. Gaining ground with every stride. He hardly
registered the limbs scratching his skinny arms and legs, tearing his favorite pajamas.

He wasn’t fast like his superheroes. Couldn’t fly into the air and away from here for good. Or turn and face the bad man, zap him with his superpowers, and make Mommy happy again.

His heart filled his mouth, nearly strangling his terror-stricken screams.

“No! Mommy! Mooommeeee!”

“Goddammit, come back here, you worthless little shit!”

He ran harder. Knew what would happen if he obeyed. Daddy would hit him, not with the razor strap, but with the big stick in his hand. Hit and curse him, hit and hit and hit until he was bloody and still. Stiff and sticky like Andy Roger’s dog after Daddy caught him sniffing around in the front yard. Like—

A cruel yank at the back of his collar jerked him clear off his feet. Screaming, he kicked and fought with everything he had, out of sheer instinct. A sixth sense his now-adult brain recognized as the knowledge that he had nothing left to lose.

That he was about to die.

He scratched and bit the arm holding him, sinking his tiny teeth in deep. Daddy’s enraged bellow gave him only a second’s satisfaction before he was slammed bodily to the forest floor.

Sucking in a breath, he started to let go another scream, but a hard kick to his stomach stole his chance. The blow lifted him off the ground, waves of sickening pain blowing to dust what precious little defense he had.

He’d never pretend to be a superhero again. Daddy was making sure of that. In Howard’s small, sad world, the bad man always won.

He never saw the next kick coming, aimed at his privates. Curling into a tight ball, he made himself as small as possible. Vomited onto the ground, hurting so badly. Praying for the monster to go away.

More blows, the steel-toed boot connecting with brutal force. Hammering his frail body all over.

Daddy’s hands grasped the front of his pajama shirt in an iron hold, shaking him like a rag doll. “I’m finally rid of you,” the monster sneered, features twisted with hate. Soulless eyes gleamed in the darkness and he fully comprehended what no young boy should.

With deadly precision, the monster rammed his head into the ground. Again and again. The night exploded into a million stars, and hot liquid bubbled to his throat, choking him. He couldn’t cry, couldn’t move. He began to float, his brain and battered body disconnecting from the terror. A mercy.