Wanting (36 page)

“
So would your groom,
Twiggy.” Alessandra straightened the hairpiece in Paige’s hair. “If
he didn’t have a heart attack when he proposed.”

“
I’d be the one doing the
proposing. No old-fashioned down on one knee drag for me.” Paige
paced around the small room at the back of the church near the loft
Carrie now shared with Sebastian. “You still have time, Care. We
can call this whole thing off if you want!”

“
No. This is what I
want.”

Of that she was
sure.

The last five weeks hadn’t
been easy. They’d had just as much time apart as they had together.
And that time together had been spent moving him into her place,
and helping Dan with his recovery. The older man would make a close
to complete recovery, provided he didn’t push himself too hard in
rehab. Carrie visited him at his home every chance she could get.
Dan was likely to overdo it; everyone knew that.

She was just happy he was
going to be there today to help Kevin give her away.

Her relationship with her
biological father and half-sisters was growing. It would get
stronger, Carrie thought, with time. She liked her sisters, but it
was weird seeing so many different parts of herself in four others.
Melody was ok; they probably would have been friends if they’d met
differently. She and Brynna had a lot in common—even the Aspergers.
Carrie knew the statistics; having one child on the spectrum did
increase the chances of having others. And Brynna had also chosen
computers. She was a great admirer of the programs Carrie had
designed for law enforcement use and they were planning to
collaborate on a second edition soon. That was how she’d found her
in the first place. Carrie had barely remembered the interview and
photos that had appeared in a technology magazine a year ago. But
Brynna read it, and recognized her somehow.

Probably because she and
Carrie resembled each other more than any of the other girls. That
had taken Carrie some serious getting used to.

As for Kevin, Carrie was
just learning to know who he was. There would never be those
family-fuzzy feelings that other people claimed for their parents,
but she knew she could grow to like him and care for him in time.
Kind of like she had Dan.

Speaking of…

Dan was knocking on the
door, ready to escort her down the aisle. He’d meet Kevin half-way,
then Dan was under strict orders from Dr. Jules to park his butt on
the bench and watch the rest of the ceremony. Dr. Jules had taken a
personal interest in Dan’s recovery and watched him like a
hawk.

“
Well, kiddo,” Dan said
once she joined him in the hall. Paige and Alessandra headed to the
front doors of the sanctuary. They’d go in first. Then Dan and
Carrie. “This is it. Sure you don’t want to run away? This one is a
slick kind of guy.”

“
He’s rather like a cat,
Dan. And I know he’s who I am supposed to be with. This is what I
want.” She knew he was out there, with Fin McLaughlin next to him
as best man. His brothers couldn’t be reached with news of the
upcoming wedding—both were out on cases somewhere in the world, but
his sister was out there with him. It had made him happy to have
Sarah there. They had a family, now. It just needed a bit more
building. Carrie was eager to do just that.

“
Then allow me to escort
you. It’ll work out for you, kiddo. I know it will. And all I want
is for you to be happy. So promise me you will be.”

Dan said nothing else as
they entered the sanctuary. And then there Sebastian was. Waiting
for her. He was everything she’d ever wanted.

And now she had him.
Forever.

******

******

Coming 2013

HUNTING…

Jules just wanted to get
away. Just stand up, get out of her chair, and walk completely out
of the St. Louis bullpen and disappear for a while. A week, a
month, maybe even a year. Maybe forever. Only the knowledge that
she didn’t have anywhere else to go kept her butt glued to the
ergonomic chair she’d pushed up to the edge of her borrowed
desk.

Being alone sucked. Working
for the FBI sucked. Cutting up dead bodies sucked. Dr. Malachi
Brockman and his all-knowing blue eyes sucked. It all
sucked.

And Jules could do nothing
about it. And that’s what sucked the most.

She couldn’t leave St.
Louis; her only family lived there, and in the last several months
she’d come to the realization that even she couldn’t cut herself
off from family completely. She could honestly say she’d had that
truth knocked into her head months earlier. And that bastard
Stephenson’s fist had packed quite a wallop.

So if that meant putting up
with the know-it-all Brockman, Jules would do it.

It was his own fault she
disliked him. She knew she was justified in her opinion. He had no
right butting in, sticking his patrician nose into her business.
And then making excuses for himself, “I’m just worried for you,
Julia. It can’t be easy dealing with the type of victims you see
daily, on top of your own tragedy. Hah! No shit,
Sherlock.”

Her tragedy—what did he
truly know of tragedy? Sure, he saw things in the job, but from all
accounts, the great Dr. Brockman had had an idyllic life. Grew up
the oldest of three perfect children, both his perfect parents
still living, scholarships to all the right perfect schools.
Perfect. Not to mention that he was good-looking and had tons of
money.

Damned psychologist had
everything practically handed to him, and then he had the nerve to
tell her she was acting spoiled. Self-centered.
Self-absorbed.

Just who the hell did he
think he was? They’d not spoken to one another for personal reasons
in the entire time she’d worked in St. Louis, then all of the
sudden she’d looked up from the autopsy reports she’d been studying
to see Brockman staring down at her. Coming to her desk and telling
her she should basically just ‘get over’ Rick’s death and move
on—before she dragged those who cared about her down as
well?

She shot a glare toward the
half-rise where his office was located next to Agent Reynolds’. She
could just make out the dark head of her new nemesis as he sat
speaking with Agent Hellbrook. Damned jerk, she wished someone
would punch him in the nose, do something to ruin all that damned
perfectness. Even if just temporarily.

God how she wished she had
the balls to do it herself. She tightened her fists as she imagined
it. Only the Hippocratic Oath she’d sworn years ago kept her from
doing that and so much more to the arrogant bastard.

As if he could read her
mind—and she wouldn’t put it past him, with his three PhDs in mind
reading and fortune telling and smarm—he looked up and smiled the
smile that he probably thought would get him out of
anything.

Julia snarled. Not with her
it wouldn’t.

***

Malachi Brockman fought the
urge to laugh in satisfaction as his eyes caught those of the lone
team member still seated in the bullpen his team shared with
Hellbrook’s.

The woman did the damnedest
job of hiding how she felt but occasionally her true feelings would
slip through that mask. Malachi was determined to remove that mask
completely. If she didn’t kill him first. He knew—had heard from
her closest friend—that she had one hell of a temper when it was
aroused. And he knew that was probably exactly what she needed.
Fury, anger, rancor—anything other than the numbing grief she’d let
grip her for the last three years. Nobody deserved to be that sad
for that long. It wasn’t healthy. It would eventually eat a person
alive. He couldn’t let that happen to her.

If that meant she hated him
for the rest of their days, so be it. People had to be in top
mental condition to handle the job they did, and Dr. Bellows wasn’t
in it. She would be—or Malachi would see to it that she was removed
from her position with the St. Louis PAVAD unit. Until she became
more aware of things around her, he wasn’t comfortable sending her
out in the field. Period. It was too dangerous.

But then again—she wasn’t
his agent, she was Hellbrook’s, and since her field work mainly
consisted of retrieving dead bodies and autopsying them, Hellbrook
felt she was more than capable of the job. Malachi completely
disagreed.

He’d seen much stronger
agents break under far less provocation.

“
That’s one angry medical
examiner down there.” Hellbrook made the observation mildly.
Malachi smirked. “What did you do to her?”

“
What makes you think I did
anything to her?” Mal asked, still smirking. He didn’t miss the way
her expression darkened.

“
Because the normally
calm-natured doctor is shooting poison glares straight over my
shoulder, directly at you,” Hellbrook laughed.

“
I did nothing to her to
warrant what she did to me.”

“
Which was?”

“
Threw a stapler at my
head. And the woman has almost excellent aim.” Malachi rubbed his
shoulder.

“
Sounds eerily reminiscent
of my morning, as well.” Hellbrook said.

“
Oh? Bellows throw a
stapler at you, too?”

“
No. George did. And it was
the television remote. And apparently her aim is better than
Jules’.”

“
I ducked. How is
George?”

“
Cranky. That woman hates
to be sick.” Worry touched the other man’s eyes for a moment.
“Julia’s been over at the house at least once a day. I don’t know
who is more concerned—Jules, George, or me.”

“
At least George has her
own personal physician.” Malachi watched as she gathered her bag
and then stomped from the bullpen. Her actual office was down in
near the morgue, but she spent many hours in the
bullpen.

“
I am eternally grateful
for Jules. She’s been a godsend since this flu’s been making the
rounds. I think George would have killed me if not for
Jules.”

“
So there is some benefit
to the woman.”

Hellbrook’s brow rose.
“Seriously? What is going on with you two?”

“
Nothing of importance.”
Mal stood, and Hellbrook followed suit. “But I do believe we shall
agree to disagree on the subject of the good doctor.”

“
Sounds eerily familiar as
well. I remember feeling a serious bit of rancor toward a woman
with good doctor in her title.”

“
Yes, but in this instance
there won’t be the same resolution. I have no intention of doing
that with Dr. Julia Bellows.” Malachi shuddered at the thought.
Whoever did marry that woman would have to wear body armor. Two
inches higher and to the left and she’d have broken his nose with
that stapler.

So much for do no harm. If
he hadn’t ducked right when he had...Malachi abhorred violence.
There were so many other ways of dealing with conflict. The woman
could have killed him. He made a mental note to avoid being alone
with her until she’d had time to cool down.

In the meantime, he had a
party to host.

***

Several hours later Mal
laughed, watching Julia across the room. He was looking forward to
the rest of the party. He’d make it his mission to keep her so
riled, she’d have no choice but to explode...again.

He made a mental note to
duck when needed.

What he hadn’t counted on
was Julia’s apparent ability to avoid confrontation. It took him
nearly an hour to find her.

The dress was lovely,
low-cut and revealing. And a good color choice for her.

He might not have liked her
personality, but even he had to admit there was nothing wrong with
her body. Pity she usually kept it so ruthlessly
covered.

He either saw her dressed
in shapeless suits or medical scrubs. Scrubs were his favorite—they
at least hinted at the female body beneath. And when dressed in her
medical garb she appeared confident.

She was hard at work
helping his sister Alex set out punch, applying herself to the task
with utmost concentration. Hiding.

“
Dr. Bellows, I was at
least hoping for one dance before the night ends. Instead I find
you in here.”

“
I’m sorry; I make it a
point not to dance with apes.” She didn’t look up from the peach
punch she was ladling. Mal heard his sister snicker.

“
Julia is a bit angry at
me. She wouldn’t really say I’m an ape. Then I’d have to say she
was a shrew, or something of that nature.” He grinned at the shrew
in question. “I would never do that.”

“
Of course, you’re too
perfect for that.” She thickened her slight accent into a more
noticeable southern drawl. “And who would ever accuse the great
Malachi Brockman of not being perfect? Surely not I.”

She showed just the barest
hint of teeth before looking away. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to
use the restroom.” She left Malachi and Alex standing watching her
back as she wove through the reception hall.

“
Good one, Mal.” Alex
bumped his shoulder with hers. “What did you do to her this
time?”

Malachi smiled. “I probably
deserved the stapler she heaved at my head this morning. I just
can’t seem to resist pushing her buttons. But she will dance with
me before this party ends.”