Wanting (37 page)

He’d make sure of
it.

It took him another forty
minutes to corner her, and it was only in front of Ana and Paige
that he did.

Julia wouldn’t dare make a
scene in front of her friends. And one thing Malachi could say
about Julia was that she valued and protected her friends. God knew
the woman didn’t have very many. Just Georgia, Ana, Paige, and
Alessandra.

As luck would have it, the
tempo slowed just as he slipped his arms around her. A woman’s
voice, low and throaty floated over the dance floor, soon joined by
more. Paige, Carrie, and Al sang beautifully, even more so when
they sang together. This time they sang of enduring love, a song
dedicated to the new couple.

Mal pulled his partner
closer, ignoring the way she resisted. Her hair brushed his chin,
but he allowed her to keep an appropriate distance between their
bodies.

It wasn’t as if they were
lovers, after all. It wasn’t as if they even liked one another. He
just wanted to dance with her. He held her almost gently, one hand
low on her back, the other holding her left hand against his chest.
She wasn’t any bigger than Georgia or Ana and he’d danced with them
hundreds of times. So why did she feel so different?

Mal didn’t have a
clue.

***

Jules almost wished she
liked him. Then she could pretend that the dance meant something
other than him trying to torment her. And that was exactly what he
was trying to do. And he was doing a damned good job, too. But he
probably didn’t even know how.

The jerk wore the same
cologne as her dead husband. If she closed her eyes, and shrank
Brockman just a little she could pretend she was dancing with Rick
again. They said the sense of smell was the most powerful for
evoking memories and she believed it. Now. Damn him.

Julia tried to pull back.
He frowned down at her and held tight. “You surely can finish one
dance, Julia.”

She hated how he said her
name. Nobody called her Julia. Hadn’t since Rick. She’d told
Brockman to call her Jules, but he refused. “It’s Jules. J. U. L.
E. S., for someone so damned smart you’re remarkably thick-headed.
Don’t call me Julia.”

“
Jules sounds like
something you’d name a Cocker spaniel.” His words were mild, which
aggravated her all that much more.

“
Thanks. Try Dr. Bellows
then if Jules offends you in some way.”

“
Too formal for friends.”
He guided her around the dance floor almost effortlessly. They
never once stepped on each other.

“
We’re not friends.” It
took her a few moments to say it, but it did come out completely
flat. Mild. Truthful. “We don’t even like each other. Not that I
will admit that to anyone else. Don’t want to be accused of
blaspheme against the great god Brockman.”

“
Of course we’re friends.
Why else would we be dancing?”

“
Because you’re a sadistic
moron who can’t tell when someone wants nothing to do with you. Far
be it from me to point out your idiocy. You’re the great
psychologist, shouldn’t you be able to figured it out for
yourself?”

***

The entire time they danced
she never raised her voice, never gave any indication she wasn’t
perfectly content right where she was. Malachi had to admit a small
bit of admiration. The woman could say so much while saying so
little. He pulled her a bit closer, just enough that he could feel
the barest hint of her body pressed against his. If possible he
thought she was thinner than Georgia or Ana. Too thin. He had no
trouble feeling the outline of her ribs beneath his hand.
Unhealthily thin.

He remembered the home
videos he’d watched with Georgia just last week. He’d stopped by
for a visit and found the extremely maudlin woman weeping as she’d
watched four-year-old videos. It had concerned him at first, but
Georgia had explained. She’d forgotten what it was like to have a
toddler around, so she watched videos of Matthew’s second
birthday.

Malachi watched with her a
moment, eyes cataloging what appeared to be a happy, healthy young
couple play with the beautiful little boy Malachi considered an
honorary nephew. He’d watched as a younger Georgia answered the
doorbell, revealing Dr. and Dr. Bellows.

The man was of average
height, with brown hair and eyes. Average. Until the camera focused
on his face, where the sparks of humor and intelligence were hard
to miss.

But it was the love in the
man’s eyes as he looked down at the beautiful brunette at his side
that Malachi would always remember. Dr. Rick Bellows had adored his
wife, and it didn’t take a behavioral scientist to see it. For a
moment Malachi had wondered what it would be like to love a woman
that much. To have her look up at him with just that expression
that Julia had shot at the man.

Malachi had barely
recognized her. She’d had glorious curves, for one thing. Dressed
in a low-cut blouse that flattered her body and coloring, she was a
very stunning woman. And she flaunted that in front of her husband.
He just looked at her with indulgence as she flirted and pranced
around him. The woman on video was nothing like the plain little
stick she tried to convince everyone she was now.

But it was her laughter
that had choked Mal up. Free, uninhibited, audacious, beautiful,
full of life and love. Heartbreaking when he considered the woman
he knew now.

Once he got over the
initial shock he’d tuned back in to the action on the video. It
took him a moment to realize the truth—Julia had stuck a cigar in
Georgia’s hand. A pink and blue bubble gum cigar that signified one
thing. Someone was pregnant, and from the way Georgia hugged her
friend and squealed, Malachi knew it was Julia. He’d frowned and
looked at his friend as she lay sniffling beside him.

Georgia had read his mind,
something she was good at. Her low explanation had literally broken
Malachi’s heart. “This was recorded two weeks before the accident.
She lost the baby the day of the funeral. That’s when we completely
lost that Julia. I keep hoping, praying, we’ll eventually get her
back. At least a little bit. Rick was her everything from almost
the very moment they met. They’d been trying for two years for the
baby. And having a difficult time. When she lost the baby, it
terrified me. The Julia from that video was just...gone. I haven’t
seen her since.”

Julia Bellows hadn’t just
lost her husband that day, she’d lost her family. Her hope. It
explained so much to him.

He pulled her closer,
running a hand down her back when she protested, a gesture intended
to sooth. He wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing, but as he
recalled the Julia on video he needed the comfort. The danced on in
silence.

He fought the urge to close
his eyes and bury his face in the thick softness of her honey brown
hair. It was completely straight and smelled like the softest of
flowers. They swayed together slowly as Paige sang on. He tucked
her under his chin, held her against his chest until the music
ended.

He stepped back. She looked
up at him, wariness and suspicion in her hazel eyes. “Thank you for
the dance, Julia.”

“
My pleasure.” Her tone
made the lie perfectly clear to him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I
should go help Paige and Ana clean up the kitchen.”

“
Not necessary. It’s my
kitchen after all.” Malachi followed her a few steps. He didn’t
make it; his mother stopped him, dragging an eager-looking young
woman behind her.

Malachi heard Jules snicker
as she escaped, leaving him to politely accept the dance partner
his mother basically threw at him.

As he lead the woman to the
makeshift dance floor—normally his dining room—he decided to let
Julia have her retreat. This time. Besides, he wasn’t too sure what
he’d say to her right then, anyway.

He didn’t see her again
until half of the guests had dissipated. When he did find her, it
was to see her standing protectively in front of Paige as both
women glared at his brother.

Malachi knew Paige and
Mikhail hadn’t exactly started off on the right note, but it
surprised him they’d be so openly hostile toward one another. If
Mick had said something to Paige to upset her, Mal wouldn’t be
happy. Mal loved that kid, and if he had his way he’d adopt her
into his family completely.

God knew Paige needed a
family. He knew her story, knew how the courts had taken her and an
older brother from her drug-addict mother three days after she’d
been born. She’d been a ward of the state from that moment until
the age of twelve.

Paige had hit the streets
at the tender age of twelve, somehow surviving the next six years
living in dark alleys and overpasses. Malachi had nearly vomited
when he’d learned how she and Carrie had survived, had learned how
they’d sang for food money, how they’d hitch-hiked for warmer
weather when necessary.

He had even seen some of
the scars on Paige’s scrawny body. Knife scars, belt marks, burn
marks. The kid had been abused, had been through true hell—and
still had an amazing capacity to love. Malachi did his best to
protect her. In fact, he protected Paige more than he did his own
sister. And she wasn’t even that much younger than thirty-year-old
Alex. Of course, everyone protected Paige. Everyone. Even Julia,
apparently. But Mick just ignored Julia, glaring at the much taller
Paige.

Malachi didn’t quite
understand his brother at times. Ex-military special forces, Mick
had gone straight into the FBI once his six year term was up. He’d
then spent nearly a decade as an agent in violent crimes and white
collar before making a startling jump to Internal Affairs. IA—one
of the most hated divisions in the Bureau.

Mal hadn’t seen him in
nearly two years, until he’d shown up as a last minute replacement
for one of the IA agents assigned to tear Ed Dennis’s career
apart.

Malachi wouldn’t have Mick
giving Paige a hard time.

Apparently Julia felt the
same way. She slid her small body more fully between Paige and
Mick. Malachi fought the urge to laugh at the bulldog expression on
her face as she glared up at his brother. A long way up.

Julia was five inches of
five feet tall-he’d learned that during a previous case—nine inches
shorter than Mal. His brother stood twelve inches taller than
Julia. Minimum. And Mick was extremely thick with muscle. He could
pick Julia up one-handed if he wanted. And not even break a
sweat.

But Mick didn’t even seem
aware of Julia, all his attention focused on the much taller Paige.
His brother growled something that had Julia’s expression darkening
and her chin rising. Paige glared up at him, her arms crossing in
front of her body.

Malachi stepped between
them. “Mick, how about a beer before we clean this place
up?”

His brother switched his
glare to Mal’s face. He nodded down at Mal, though the dark scowl
stayed on his face. Mick had a bit of a temper, Mal remembered many
fights between them as boys. He was three years older than Mick and
the battles they’d engaged in had been intense. Mal wouldn’t trade
them for anything in the world.

Brothers did that. He
slapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder as he led him back to
the makeshift bar; he’d missed him, pain in the ass though he was.
Infrequent phone calls and emails just hadn’t been the
same.

Still, now that Mick was in
St. Louis for two weeks Mal intended to make the most of it. They
could catch up. Spend the Christmas holiday together with their
mother and father and sister.

It would be their first
Christmas all together in nearly a decade.

He knew his parents would
like that. They’d moved to the city two years ago, a year after
Alex had transferred to St. Louis. Two of their children in one
city had been the incentive. Mal loved having them close, and knew
Alex felt the same way. “It’s good to have you here, little
brother. I’ve missed your ugly face.”

“
Sure you have.” Mick
snorted. “I’m sure you had plenty of people around here to keep you
company if you needed it.”

“
Yes. I had plenty of
friends. But a brother’s a little different.” Mal handed his
brother a cold bottle then grabbed one for himself. “So what was
that all about?”

“
What?” Mick glared down.
Mal always found it ironic that his little brother stood three
inches taller and outweighed him by fifty pounds. He wasn’t so
little anymore.

“
Paige and
Julia.”

Mick scowled. “That girl.
She’s going to get someone killed someday. Probably
herself.”

“
I take it you mean Paige?
She’s very good at what she does. Why do you think
differently?”

“
I’ve seen her kind
before.” Mick took a swig from the bottle in his hand. Both men
watched the two women as they helped the Brockman parents in the
kitchen. Their mother hugged Paige, patted Julia’s shoulder. She
liked the two younger women, everything in her body language made
that clear to Mal.

“
What do you
mean?”

“
Young. Impulsive,
reckless, idealistic. Pampered. Spoiled. Dark eyes that get them
whatever they want. Until it gets them hurt or killed.” Mick
slammed his bottle on the counter as he glared at the dark-eyed
girl dancing around the kitchen, laughing with his sister. Mal
watched his dad ruffle Paige’s dark hair. Watched her throw her
arms around him and give him a hug. His father blushed, his mother
laughed.