Bring the Heat (5 page)

“I'm behind you all the way,” Glenn said, standing. “I'm glad you're all right. Get some rest and we'll talk soon.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

Frustrated, he watched his boss walk out the door. For a while he fumed, unable to do anything else. Then he got tired and slept for a while, and when he awoke, the sunlight had dimmed into afternoon. Stretching, he tried to clear the fog from his brain. His head didn't hurt as bad as before, and he decided he was mending, no thanks to his own stupidity.

“It's good to see you awake,” a soft feminine voice said.

Turning his head, he smiled. Laura was sitting by his bed, looking like an oasis for a man who'd been lost in the desert for months. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a pink V-neck T-shirt that hugged her breasts. Her long legs were encased in a pair of dark jeans.

“You look pretty,” he told her. “I don't think I've ever seen you in street clothes.”

She looked pleased at the compliment. “Thank you. You're looking better than you did last time I saw you, for sure.”

“When did you see me?”

“I found you at home. Well, Shane, Chris, and I did,” she amended.

The hits kept coming. He looked away from her and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I'm ashamed,” he admitted.

Cupping his face, she made him look at her again. “No, none of that. How about you look forward from here on out? Think about what you
can
change instead of what you can't.”

“You make it sound so easy.” He found himself leaning into her touch. Her hand on his cheek felt so warm and welcoming. Much like the look in her eyes.

“It won't be, but taking control of your life again will be worth it. Believe me.”

“You know something about that?”

“Just a little.” Taking his hand, she lowered it to the bed, but didn't let go. “That's a story for another time.”

He let it slide, for now. “Taking control sounds good. I've got plenty of time to get started, since the chief placed me on leave.”

She winced. “Yeah, I kind of saw that coming.”

“I did, too, but it stings.” Questions burned in his gut, and as he stared at her, they wouldn't be denied. “I want you to give me your professional assessment of Ashley's murder.”

“Austin, I don't think now is the time—”

“I need for you to tell me,” he said quietly. “Please.”

He'd never seen Laura struggle over discussing such things, but this situation was vastly, terribly different. He was asking as a friend, not a colleague. She
hesitated, visibly torn between the truth and not wanting to hurt him more than he already had been.

“You already know she was strangled with a belt,” she finally said.

“One of mine.”

“Yes. Did they tell you about the two prints on it?” When he nodded, she went on. “The one that didn't match yours was in the correct position to commit the murder.”

“Glenn didn't mention that, just that we don't know who the print belongs to yet.”

“He might not have known. That will definitely help take the heat off you.”

“Innocent until proven guilty. Right.” He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone.

“I agree it's not fair to have to prove it, but you
are
innocent. The evidence will bear that out, because there's more. The tissue under Ashley's fingernails belongs to a Caucasian, and I'm going to guess a male because of the sheer strength needed to kill in this way. It's actually very difficult to strangle a person.”

Austin swallowed hard. “So she fought, scratched the hell out of somebody.”

“Yes. You get a suspect and you're going to have him cold with the evidence.”

“That's the problem, isn't it? Finding the monster who did this.” Tears pricked his eyes and he shook his head. “We didn't have a very good relationship toward the end, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to her. Ever.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“She didn't even want our baby. Did you know that?”

Her eyes were pools of hurt—for him. “No, I didn't.”

“The pregnancy was one of those surprises that happens after things get out of control. We got together one more time after I was almost killed a few months ago, but we knew it wasn't going to work. I was so happy about the baby, but she wasn't at
all
.”

Laura frowned. “But she fought you for custody anyway?”

“Yeah. Because she could, and the courts favor the mothers. I don't like to speak ill of her, especially now, but she was pretty hateful. She wanted to put the screws to me.”

“Then it's a good thing the evidence is steering the blame away from you—otherwise you'd have motive.”

He shook his head. “I would never harm my son.”

“I know that and so do your friends, but not everyone would be convinced. That won't be an issue, though. Facts are facts, and someone else did the crime.”

“And what if you didn't have all the facts? What would your gut tell you about me?”

Her lips curved up. “You're a good man, Captain. I trust you completely.”

He wasn't sure how good a man he was, but he knew one thing: he wanted to keep Laura around, get to know her much better.

•   •   •

Convincing his parents to go home this time had been twice the job it had been before.

Austin watched his dad pull out of the driveway, and waved at his teary mom until they disappeared around the corner. Then he went back inside.

Now it was just Shane, Danny, and himself. The duo had arrived together, right after his folks had gotten him home. Honestly, it had been sort of a relief because his friends had kept the mood light, and in turn had kept Austin's mom from coming unglued. Their visit had gone a long way to reassure his folks that there wouldn't be a repeat of Austin's breakdown.

Austin had done his best to reassure them of that, too.

“My son had his life taken from him before he got a chance to live,” he'd told them. “Who am I to throw mine away? Trust me, please. I won't let you down again.”

They had finally believed him. Now he had to make good on his promise.

“This place looks good,” Austin said to his friends, indicating the spotless living room. “It hasn't been this clean since I moved in. And which one of you is the decorator? I didn't know you guys had the flair.”

There were several accent rugs lying about, as well as framed pictures someone had dug out of the albums that had been in storage boxes. Some were of his parents, some of his older brother who'd been killed in Desert Storm. There were even a couple of accent lamps on the side tables.

Shane smiled. “Um, you know damn well none of us have a decorative bone in our bodies.”

“Who did it, then?”

“Laura. She helped Chris whip this place into shape.”

“Wow, that was nice of her.” Warmth stole over him, settled in his gut. He liked how it made him feel that she'd been here, trying to make things better for him.

Danny and Shane smirked at each other, then at him. Danny spoke up. “Something going on there we need to know about?”

“No. Not that it's any of your business.”

“But you'd like for there to be,” Shane said, grinning.

“You know, you may have tenure but I can still bust your ass back to investigating stolen bikes.”

“Not at the moment, you can't.”

“Watch me. The second I'm back on duty, you're in trouble.”

“Whatever you say, Cap.”

All around him was evidence that he was a lucky man. He had to remember that.

He couldn't allow his grief to keep him from living—or from putting a killer behind bars.

•   •   •

Austin nursed his second tonic—he wasn't sure when he'd ever want so much as a beer again—and shifted on the barstool, glancing around at the crowd.

The Waterin' Hole was packed tonight. People were playing pool, laughing, and talking. Taylor's girlfriend, Cara Evans, was setting up with her band, getting ready to play. They were a crowd favorite. Austin glanced around and didn't see Taylor, but he figured the man would show at some point.

Austin hadn't spoken with Laura in a couple of days, since his release from the hospital, and that bugged him, more than it should. His need to go slow with her was in direct odds with the desire to pick up the pace. Should he make the first call? Something told him she wasn't that old-fashioned—if she wanted to talk to him, she'd call.

Or maybe not. Hell if he knew what to do.

What was the oh-so-sweet Miss Eden up to right now? Was she on a date? Had he kissed her? Taken her home? Fuck.

“Hey, man. You gonna drink that tonic or what?”

Austin met the bartender's gaze. The man frowned at him, slung a hand towel over his shoulder, and braced his hands on the counter. The position caused his ripped biceps to bulge underneath his T-shirt, emphasizing his buff physique. The type of dude who was a magnet for anything female with a pulse, he'd bet
lonely
wasn't part of this guy's vocabulary.

“Yeah. What's your name?”

“Chandler,” the man said, giving him a half smile.

“Well, Chandler, it's just been a long damn week.” He rubbed his temples.

“Being an instant local celebrity doesn't agree with ya, huh? I saw the article in the paper, man. Sorry.” The bartender waved a hand at the crowd. “Maybe what you need is some female company to cheer you up. There's several giving you the eyeball as we speak. Take that
Penthouse
beauty over there. She's practically burnin' a hole in your back, not that you'd ever notice.”
He waggled his dark brows and nodded to a table off in a corner.

Austin sighed. He wasn't in the mood to play tonight. Unless—what if Laura had shown up? Did she even know he came here? The lady was resourceful, so she'd have no trouble finding him.

The prospect of seeing her again appealed to him a great deal. His morose mood forgotten, he swung his gaze to the spot Chandler indicated. Instead of Laura, a voluptuous blonde bombshell a few tables away flashed him a welcoming smile and a generous amount of cleavage in her low-cut black dress.

Her smile deepened, revealing an alluring dimple at one corner of her generous mouth. Eyes never leaving his, she tilted a glass of white wine, wrapping it in slender fingers tipped with bloodred nails. She took a small sip, then licked an imaginary drop from her bottom lip, flicking it with a quick dart of her pink tongue. Message sent and received. His for the asking, and the bold invitation failed to stir his desire.

Christ, really? Compared with Laura, the woman was about as appealing as a wilted salad would be next to a filet mignon.

Because it seemed rude not to acknowledge the lady, he gave her a tight, polite smile—one clearly communicating,
No, thanks
—before turning around again.

As he did, he suddenly had the strangest feeling he was being watched. His gaze slid to a shadowy corner, but there was only Chandler clearing empty glasses off
a table. The man barely glanced at him, then went back to his task. Still, a shiver danced along Austin's skin.

Must've been his imagination. The murders and what he'd been through had shifted his world slightly off its axis. Knocked him out of his groove. Everything would fall back into place tomorrow, after a good night's sleep. Dismissing the strange feeling, he turned his attention back to the bar as a startling realization punched him in the gut.

Finding the blonde, instead of Laura, smiling at him had sent his spirits plummeting. He was more than ready to leave.

Chandler returned, took away his empty glass. “So? You gonna get a piece of that or what?”

“Nah. Too expensive. She's a Mercedes, I'm a Ford. Wouldn't work.”

Chandler rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“I'm a Mustang,” a flirtatious voice said from next to Austin. “Plenty of speed and more bang for your buck. Will that rev your engine?”

Austin turned to see a twentysomething man with dark hair and big brown eyes grinning at him. The man was shorter than Austin, and slender. Something about the guy seemed familiar, but he couldn't place him. “Sorry, pal, but you're barking up the wrong tree. Or shopping at the wrong dealership, so to speak.”

“Damn. All the good ones are taken or straight.” The man actually pouted.

Just then Austin figured out where he knew him from. “Hey, I know you.”

“You do?” The guy peered at him curiously, then
grinned. “Hey! I hooked up your cable in your house! You're a cop or something, right?”

“Yeah, Sugarland PD.” He held out his hand. “Austin Rainey. Good to see you again.”

“Frankie Blair. You, too.” They shook and Frankie eyed him closely. Austin could almost see the wheels turning in the man's head, and thought he saw a spark of something else in the man's eyes. But if Frankie recognized him from the recent tragic events that had made the news, the younger man was classy enough not to mention it.

“So, how's the cable business?” Austin asked. He didn't really care, but wanted to be polite.

The other man made a face. “That's not really what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I'm in school for graphic design.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said with enthusiasm. “I graduate at the end of May. Got a line on a job already from a friend of a friend.”

“Hey, that's great. Congrats.” He smiled, and Frankie returned it. Frankie was a likable guy, and Austin didn't mind the company.

“Thanks.”

Frankie started to say something else, but a hand on Austin's shoulder interrupted their conversation. He swung his head around to find himself looking directly into the blonde's smoldering gaze. Lips tilted up, she eyed him from head to toe as though contemplating how he'd taste smothered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He must have been putting out some
serious pheromones tonight. Or he looked as pathetically lonely and desperate for company as he felt. Jesus.