Deathblow (25 page)

Joe typed
Broslin psychologist psychiatrist therapy
into the search engine. One other name came up: Gerta Fischer. Right. He knew Gerta, a sixty-five-year-old German woman who was about to close shop and retire. She had crippling arthritis. It would have been nearly impossible for her to swing the phone as hard as the killer had. She had no motive either.

But if not a rival, then who?

According to Doris, Phil spent his time either at work or home with his wife and new baby. What time he didn’t spend with his family, he spent with his patients. Every instinct Joe had said that the killer was someone Phil was seeing in a professional capacity.

He pushed the laptop aside and lifted Wendy’s feet gently so she wouldn’t wake, stood up, then covered her with a blanket. Then he went upstairs and carried down the boxes Harper had dropped off, the hospital sign-in sheets. Since Wendy and Justin were sleeping in his office, he’d stashed them in his bedroom for the time being, but he didn’t want to work up there now. He wanted to stay near Wendy.

He’d already separated out the sign-up sheets for Tuesdays, the days when Phil had his anger management group. Now he began to read through them.

He squeezed in about two hours’ worth of work before Justin woke, which woke Wendy. Joe spent the rest of the afternoon with them. He felt pretty bushwhacked but didn’t want to sleep, in case Wendy needed him.

Not that she would stay put. She insisted on getting up and doing whatever needed to be done with her son. She wouldn’t even let Joe cook dinner. But when bedtime for Justin rolled around, she did let Joe take the little boy up to bed. So he cleaned the kid up, dragged some pajamas on him, and reread the book they’d read before naptime—apparently, Justin’s favorite.

About dancing sheep.

When he finished, the kid read the book back to him, nearly word for word—impressive. Joe tucked the boy in, then walked over to the master bathroom and turned on the water in the tub.

“Okay, the dancing sheep are so wrong on so many levels,” he told Wendy as he plodded down the stairs.

“It’s a very wholesome series. Teaches creativity.”

“Three guy sheep, living together. They like dancing, painting, and cooking.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“How about sports? And they could fix a car now and then. Where are the girl sheep?”

“You think men need women to feel complete?” she teased him.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Is that a trick question?” She smiled. The afternoon rest had definitely done her good.

He liked seeing her joke around. “Dancing sheep is a book a mother would buy. I’m going to set Justin up with some studly books.” He walked over to her.

“Hey, maybe America’s Most Wanted has a bedtime storybook edition.”

“I’m going to check on that. Or something like
Tool Time for Bedtime
. If that picture book doesn’t exist, somebody needs to start writing it.”

“Good night, hammer, good night, saw?” She shook her head, still smiling.

Joe walked over, tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m drawing you a nice warm bath.” Warm, not hot. Pregnant women weren’t supposed to sit in a hot bath. He’d learned that when Amber had been pregnant with Max. Amber wasn’t the type who was shy about sharing. Joe knew about mucus plugs and water breaking and the whole nine yards.

“A bath sounds really, really great.”

“Hold on.” He bent, and, before she could protest, he gathered her up into his arms.

Embarrassment flushed across her cheeks. “I’m not a total invalid. My legs are fine. You took a bullet.”

“Barely a scratch.” He carried her up the stairs, liking the feel of her in his arms. She was here; she was safe. “I feel guilty as hell because I wasn’t here to protect you, all right? You have to let me do something.”

He set her on her feet in front of the tub and stepped to the linen closet to grab some towels and lay them on the towel bar. “Do you need anything else?”

“This is really nice. I can handle it from here.”

He walked out, paused by the guest bathroom, grabbed Justin’s bubble bath, and carried it back to her. He didn’t keep that kind of stuff on hand. He knocked.

“Come in.”

She was still fully dressed. He held up the bottle. “Do you want any of this?”

“That’d be nice.”

So he stepped over and dumped some in, probably too much, since the water frothed up in a minute, bubbles covering everything. “Okay. Don’t get lost in there.”

Instead of smiling at the lame joke, she was wincing as she tried to lift her arms.

“Do you need help?”

“Could you please just help me with my sweater?” She turned her back to him.

He reached for the hem, lifted it slowly, waited until she worked her hands up above her head. From the way she moved, he knew she was hurting. Then he glanced down and forgot about everything else when he saw the bruises on her back.

Cold fury filled him.
The bastard kicked her.

She’d said he’d knocked her down, but seeing all that purple marring her skin hit Joe a lot harder than just hearing the words had.

He was a calm kind of guy, which was helpful for police work, according to the captain. But hot violence surged through his veins, pushing him to find the bastard right now—

“Joe?”

He’d stopped moving. He began again, slowly, gently, and swore that he was going to bring Keith Kline in and see to it that he spent his prime years in prison.

Standing behind Wendy, he gently tugged the sweater over her head and off her arms, and tossed it on the small stool next to the tub. Then he reached up and unclasped her pink lace bra. He didn’t want her to have to twist her hands behind her back. “Let me help you.” He eased the straps down her arms.

She didn’t say anything, so he pulled the lacy material away from her body and tossed it on the stool. As she folded her arms over her breasts, he reached to her waist and tugged down her pants, helped her step out of them.

“Joe?” she whispered when he reached for her panties.

Steam filled the room.

“I’m not looking,” he lied. “And even if I was, I’ve seen you naked before. This is not a romantic thing. You’re a purple blob.”

“I know.”

“If it helps, think of it as an officer of the law assisting you in a professional capacity.”

“Do cops strip women naked a lot in the course of the average workday?”

He could hear the tentative smile in her voice. He liked it. “Not as much as we wish.”

He felt none of the calm he was projecting, his heart rate kicking up as he tugged her pink lace panties down inch by inch, over the smooth curve of her incredibly fine ass. He helped her step out of the soft material. Bruises or not, she was perfect. She was the woman he had naughty dreams about. And she was standing in his bathroom naked.

He was as hard as the cast iron tub.

He scooped her up and set her into the water little by little, grateful that he’d had the foresight to add some of Max’s bubble bath. At least, the bubbles covered her up. Mostly.

He turned off the water. Cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

She smiled at him. “I don’t think I’ve been fussed over like this since I was a kid.”

“Pregnant women should be pampered.”

She looked away.

He doubted she’d gotten any pampering from Keith when she’d been pregnant with Justin. Not that Joe was some knight in shining armor. He’d been pretty much a jackass, in fact. When she’d told him about the baby, he’d run away. And then he’d denied that the baby could be his.

“Listen,” he said, feeling like a jerk. “About before. I’m sorry. The idea of having a kid. I needed a moment to absorb that.”

She looked back at him. “It’s okay. I did kind of spring it on you. I’ve been trying to figure out for a while how to tell you.” She drew a deep breath. “The pregnancy was a pretty big surprise to me too.”

He nodded, moved to leave, then hesitated. “I’m not sorry about the pregnancy.”

“We’re not going to ruin your bachelor lifestyle. I promise.”

He frowned. “I don’t know why I’m not scared out of my gourd. I should be.” The truth was, he hadn’t really taken advantage of being a bachelor in a while. “Maybe I’m maturing.”

She laughed out loud, the best sound he’d heard in a long time. “Let me know if it hurts. I have some painkillers the hospital sent home with me.”

And because he wanted to step back to the tub and kiss her senseless, he walked out, leaving the door open a crack behind him. “Holler if you need anything.”

But what he was really hoping for was that she needed
him
. And he hoped he was at least half as good as the town thought him to be, so he could be the right guy for Wendy.

* * *

Wendy was tempted to call Joe to help her out of the tub when she was done. Moving around hurt. But in the end, she managed.

Her nightgown wasn’t too difficult to get into. She kissed Justin, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed, then eased her tired body onto the mattress and thought about her son’s father.

Keith was the type who impressed her right off the bat, but the more she’d gotten to know him, the less she thought of him. Joe was the opposite. When she’d first met Joe, she’d put him down as a superficial, womanizing jock. But the more time she spent with him, the more she had to admit that she’d been wrong.

He was kind, caring, and brave. He stuck around. He took care of what needed to be taken care of. He seemed like a man a woman could depend on to be there but not take over. If she could ever trust a man, he’d have to be a lot like Joe.

She could hear him coming up and taking a shower. Then he went back downstairs, and she could hear him moving around for a while before everything went silent. Was he sleeping on the couch?

Maybe he wanted to be downstairs in case Keith came back and tried to get in.

He wouldn’t. Keith wouldn’t come unless he thought Wendy was alone. He was a coward at heart. He was only tough enough to beat up a defenseless woman.

She stared at the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Keith grabbing her, the vicious hate on his face. She tossed and turned for a while, then decided to go downstairs before she woke Justin up. Maybe a glass of milk would help her settle down.

“Hi,” Joe said from the couch as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He was lying on his back, snug under a blanket but, apparently, he wasn’t sleeping either. “Everything okay?”

“Having trouble falling asleep. I thought I’d grab a glass of milk.”

“Do you need some of that acetaminophen?”

“I’m fine.” She didn’t want to take any pills unless she absolutely needed them.

She walked out into the kitchen without turning on any lights. Plenty of moonlight came in the windows and the sliding glass door. She poured her milk, drank it, rinsed the glass, and put it into the sink.

Instead of walking back to the stairs, she went to Joe, dug her toes into the soft carpet as she stopped in front of the couch. “Thank you for having us here. If we were at the apartment when Keith came….” She swallowed.
If Amber hadn’t come back….
 

He shifted his muscular body all the way to the back of the couch and held the blanket open. “Why don’t you lie down here for a minute?”

She shouldn’t. But it was, oh, so tempting. He wore nothing but sweatpants, moonlight glinting off his impressive pecs.

“Women need comfort from men, not just sex,” he said.

She tilted her head, amused. “Maybe you
are
maturing.”

He flashed a sheepish smile. Definitely a new look for him. “Actually, Amber texted that to me before she went to bed. She wanted to make sure I was taking good care of you.”

He paused, still holding up the blanket. “Maybe we both need comfort. I wasn’t here today when you needed me. If you’re right next to me, at least I’ll know in my sleep that you’re all right.”

His words fluttered inside her chest as they went straight to her heart.

He was right. They’d both had a rough day. They both needed comfort. What would be the point of denying that? The couch was wide enough for the both of them, so she lay down next to him, her back to his impressive front. He settled the blanket over her and left his arm around her.

For a moment, she lay stiff, then his heat seeped into her, and she relaxed, settled against him.

Three months ago, they’d had sex, but they’d never done this. Lying in his arms felt so incredibly good. This was what she’d missed the night she’d kicked him out of her bed. She’d kicked him out because of the power of their attraction. How she felt around him had scared her.

And here they were now, nicely snuggled together. Expecting a baby.

“It’s all messed up,” she said.

“What is?” he asked quietly from behind her.

“Us.”

“We’re doing okay.”

“I didn’t set out to trap you or anything.” Keith had accused her of that a hundred times.

“I don’t feel trapped.”

“Why?”

“I’m a simple guy. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. What’s there to complain about?”

“I’m hardly beautiful. I look like an eggplant.”

“Purple is my favorite color.”

“There’s a really annoying dinosaur you might want to watch with Justin over breakfast.” But she smiled into the darkness.

They lay silently. She didn’t feel any sleepier down here than she had upstairs. She couldn’t shut off her brain. “I turned your life upside down. We’re intruding here.”

“You’re not intruding. I get to invite whoever I want to my home, and I’m entitled to enjoy their company.” He snuggled her in closer.

And then she could feel just how much he was really enjoying it. “That better be the remote.”

“You can think whatever makes you sleep easier.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you.” Then she caught herself, winced. Joe wasn’t Keith. Joe didn’t push. He didn’t deserve all her crap baggage dumped on him. “Sorry. I have all these reflex defense mechanisms that have nothing to do with you. It’s not fair.”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Sex is never far from your mind, I have to say. Shocking from the mother of two, really. I can’t say I don’t like it.” But then he said, “Relax. This is nice. It doesn’t have to be more.”