Highly Charged! (11 page)

Brad went with the truth because, damn it, you'd have to be born without a freaking conscience not to think about it sometimes.

“At least once or twice daily, sir.”

The pen flashed again. A lengthy scrawl of sentences followed. Brad looked around the wood-paneled room, noting the doc's educational certificates and citation
awards. A yellowed picture of a much younger Leonard, his redheaded wife and their three freckled children hung on the wall beside his oversize desk.

“Would you describe your feelings and thoughts when you think of the incident?”

Sweat popped along his brow and he wished he'd thought to tell the shrink right off that he'd been working out first. Because, damn it, that's why a bead had rolled down his back just now and not because of some knee-jerk reaction at the thought of talking about his freaking
feelings
. No way was he getting into all that.

“Regret.” Brad resisted the urge to mop his forehead and ended up looking at the clock instead.

Damn.

“And what is it that you regret, Lieutenant?” the doctor queried, still scribbling.

The guy's cool detachment bugged him. How could he sit across from him, dry as a freaking Right Guard commercial, while Brad sweated it out trying to find the correct answers to impossible questions that would allow him to go back out and do his job?

“How about regret that a civilian lost his arm? Regret that befriending the civilian's son led to his father's injury. Mix in some regret that the same kid had to see the horror with his own eyes and then top it all off with a crapload of regret that getting close to anyone ends up being dangerous as hell in my experience!”

The quiet in the room seemed intense after an outburst that had ended with a little more volume than he'd intended. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed back any urge to say more.

The doctor finally looked up; his brown eyes assessing Brad carefully.

“Regret is a normal emotion,” the shrink began. “But thinking that personal closeness is dangerous is not.”

Brad kept his face impassive. Never show doubt or fear.

“Would you describe the relationships you are currently in?” asked the doc. Brad was not falling for that game again.

“I have a dog.” The mutt had adopted him before he'd found Nikki, after all. Surely that counted as a relationship. “He's a scrawny thing—maybe some daschund in the mix—so I called him Killer—you know, help the little guy's self-image.”

Leonard didn't seem inclined to discuss the psychology of small canines.

“How long have you had the dog?”

Brad swallowed. “One week.”

“I see. Your parents?”

“Passed away ten years ago, sir.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. And my apologies, Lieutenant. I see there's a note in your file about the plane crash.” The oak chair squeaked as he squirmed under the doc's penetrating stare. “Any other relationships?”

Since he didn't want to get into his need to help out Frank's widow and her son, he found himself saying, “A girl, Nikki.”

The pen clicked again, poised over the folder.

“And what is the status of your relationship?”

Good question. If only he knew the answer.

“Physical, I think.”

“So no emotional attachment?”

Brad hesitated. He couldn't bring himself to deny the feelings she aroused in him. For that matter, something about Leonard's tone made him think that a lack of emotional attachment equated with a one-way pass to Crazy Town.

“I wouldn't go that far, sir. It's just hard to say where things will lead when we only met three days ago.”

The pen started scribbling furiously and Brad wondered why his relationships were so important. Wasn't emotional detachment critical to his job?

“Brad, our time is nearly up,” began Doc Leonard. Brad looked up at the clock, shocked the minutes went so quickly this time. “But I want to see you back next week and hear how things are going with Nikki and—” he looked down at his notes “—Killer.”

Brad stood quickly, ready to jet out of there.

The doc raised a thick, gnarled finger, holding him. “This week explore what you've begun with Nikki, beyond the physical. Try to remember that not every personal relationship is harmful. That's not to say either one of you won't get hurt in the process, but the point is, you have to be open, and willing to try.” His yellowed teeth flashed in a kindly smile. Brad suddenly realized that the doc was older than he thought and had probably worked beyond his retirement.

“Yes, sir.” Brad nodded his thanks before hightailing it out of there with an appointment card in hand. The session might have moved faster today, but he still couldn't wait to leave.

And, hot damn, had he just received a prescription
for hanging out more with Nikki? For the first time in the history of his crappy injury, he decided he would be a very compliant patient.

M
IDAFTERNOON SUN ROASTING
the back of her neck, Nikki was grateful for an excuse to shut off the power sander when her cell phone rang in the middle of the afternoon. Still, she approached the device like a rattlesnake, knowing chances were high it would be another creepy text message. She really needed to create a separate ring tone for her texts.

“Hello?” She didn't recognize the number, but at least it was a real call and not a text.

“I'm looking for the hot professor that all the kids at school have been talking about—”

“Hi, Brad.” She peeled off the gloves she'd been wearing and leaned back on the porch spindles she'd tackled today. “I'm glad you called. I forgot to tell you I found Nate's dog tags on the beach this morning. You'll probably want to contact his mom to let her know you have them.”

“I'll do that. I have to call Ashley anyway to set up a time to take Nate to the fair this week.” He sounded as if he was in the Jeep, the drone of an engine combining
with the whip of wind in the background. “How's it going at the house? No trouble with harassers?”

“It's been quiet except for the power sander.” She brushed some paint chips from her T-shirt.

“Any time to search for the diaries?”

“No. But I'll step up my efforts on that score now that we've made some serious progress on the house. If the Ralston family succeeds in taking the house from me, I'll want to know that I searched the property as much as possible first. Having all the original diaries published together was really important to Chloe.” And from a scholarly perspective, Nikki couldn't wait to read them to see what they contained that was so important to her friend. What secrets might they reveal?

“I think the harassment is going to stop once the diaries are made public. My gut says whoever is behind the threats is trying to suppress their release. So the sooner we find them and hand them over to a publisher, the safer you'll be.” His voice took on that growly tone that sent a ridiculous thrill through her.

“You might be right.” She clutched the phone tighter, enjoying the completely unfamiliar feeling of having someone look after her. She could become way too used to this. “What have you been doing today?”

“Miss me already?”

“Possibly.” She hugged herself like a teenager on the phone with her first boyfriend. Damn it, how old was she? “But don't evade the question.”

“I went for a workout and a round of therapy for my leg.” The way he said it—stilted, somehow—reminded her that he'd never told her the circumstances surrounding the wound.

She sensed it all tied in with the nightmare.

“You can tell me all about it when we're searching for the diaries tonight.” Maybe this time
she'd
distract
him
with readings from Chloe's work.

“Is there a striptease involved?”

Her breath caught as her heartbeat sped up. “If that's what it takes…”

“I've got one more stop to make and then I'll be over there.”

She was wound up now, eager to see what would happen if she let her guard down again. He'd made her feel so incredible on the beach. And she'd had enough time to corral her emotions since the morning. She could handle this.

“You're sure it can't wait?” she asked, as breathless as if he'd just touched her.

“I'm stopping by Angelica's house to see what she's not telling about family members who might have it in for you. She knows something.” He lowered his voice. “If it was anything else, I'd blow it off and see you now.”

A smile warmed her insides. She liked that he had priorities.

“Are you sure you don't want to let the police talk to her?” She agreed that Angelica had appeared as though she had something to share before they'd been interrupted when she'd brought the casserole. “They know we're suspicious of the Ralston family.”

“But with the grandfather a city councilman and the father a prominent businessperson, I'm not sure how willing the police will be to rock that boat without more evidence.”

“You may have a point.” She sighed at the thought
of waiting longer to see him. “Then I guess we'll have to let the anticipation build.”

Heat washed over her skin as she imagined how hot things might get between them tonight.

Maybe she'd do a little prep on the erotica front by doing some reading before he arrived.

“I'll be there soon,” he promised.

And even though a lot of people in her life had let her down on that score, she absolutely believed Brad when he said he'd show.

“I'll look forward to it,” she purred through the phone, done with the sanding for the day.

 

S
EXUAL URGES SURGED THROUGH
him like adrenaline as he downshifted to exit the highway. He wanted to be with Nikki now. And he would damn well quiz her about that erotica dissertation to find out all the details. He'd learn what appealed to her most and then incorporate it into his personal repertoire posthaste.

He tried to shut down those thoughts as he arrived at Angelica's house—her address as easy to secure as looking in the phone book. He drove up her circular driveway, parking in front of an imposing white Tudor home with two-story columns and shiny black shutters. The overpowering aroma of her rose-lined circular driveway, complete with a burbling stone fountain, reminded him of a funeral parlor. Even though it wasn't his cup of tea, it was obvious this woman didn't need Chloe Lissander's house for any financial reasons.

The heavy brass knocker thudded loudly against a mammoth front door with glass side panels.

Within moments, a blonde teenage girl opened the
door. She wore a red-and-white cheerleader outfit emblazoned with the word
Chiefs.
She looked him up and down.

“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling flirtatiously.

“Let's start with you acting your age and end with you getting your mother.”

The teenager's lower lip pouted. She strode down a gleaming marble hall screaming, “Ma!” He stood in the open doorway.

Angelica's Ked sneakers, red this time, flashed down a curved mahogany staircase. She, too, was dressed in red and white. Her warm-up suit had
Chiefs
stretched across its front, as well.

“Lieutenant Riddock, so nice to see you.” She batted her lashes like a woman who'd had lots of practice. Like mother like daughter. “Won't you come in?”

She led him across the two-story foyer into a bright room with floor-to-ceiling windows and yellow, floralpatterned couches. The scent of lemony furniture polish suggested a recent cleaning.

“I'm sorry that we can't visit longer, but Emily and I have cheer practice.” Angelica lifted her chin. “I'm the coach.”

“This will just take a moment.” Brad would have his answers.

“I appreciate that. The competition to lead a five time National Division–winning cheer team is fierce, but we…”

Brad stared at her until she brushed imaginary lint from her pristine track suit.

She babbled on. “You can't imagine the dirty doings going on behind the smiling hurdler jumps and
basket throws. I mean we don't use dagger hands for nothing.”

“The dirty doings going on with Nikki are the reason I'm here,” said Brad.

“I'm not sure what you mean.” Angelica straightened.

“Mean-girl tricks might work in cheerleading, but they are not going to continue with Nikki,” he began forcefully.

“You don't mean to suggest I threw that rock in her window?” Angelica held up her scarlet-tipped nails. “Do you really think I would jeopardize a hundred-dollar manicure?”

“No. But I think you have an idea who did. Scaring Nikki is going to stop. I expect you to tell me everything you know.”

Angelica's eyebrows lifted as much as Botox allowed. “The fact that Chloe left her home to some random university professor is crazy. The house and its contents should stay in the family.”

Brad looked around Angelica's far more lavish home.

“Your father is the most successful contractor in town, and your grandfather is a city councilman. Nikki said Chloe left your family her money, not that you need it. So why the opposition?”

“I'm sorry, I really need to go—”

“You need to tell me who is threatening Nikki.” He brought out the military don't-eff-with-me stare. “This isn't some adolescent game.”

Angelica's eyes locked with his, her expression too
frozen to read. The room was silent save for the whirring ceiling fan. Finally, she exhaled, shoulders slumped.

“Look. All I know is something I overheard between Grampy and Dad.”

“And that was…?” Brad urged, thinking a woman who took as much pride in her ruthlessness and competitive drive as Angelica did would throw her family under the bus in a heartbeat. But he still couldn't imagine why she'd give a rat's ass about an eccentric author's ramshackle property.

“Something about some missing diaries and something that happened back in WWII.”

“Why would they care about that?”

“All I know is that Grampy served in the war, so I think it's related somehow.” She pointed to a framed black-and-white photo of a young army sergeant above her mantel.

Brad's mind buzzed. They wanted the diaries back because they revealed something that happened during the war? Something no one knew even now.

It had to be bad to warrant this level of interest. Had it been the kind of personal transgression that could break up a family? An unethical act that could taint a councilman's political career?

“Did Harold serve in Alaska—on the Aleutian Islands?”

Angelica's eyes widened. “Army Infantry. He was on Attu when American forces recaptured it. How did you know?”

Just a hunch. One that proved Eduardo and the councilman—one retired Sergeant Harold Ralston—
had crossed paths on an infamous mission during WWII. Coincidence?

Probably not, unless of course, Angelica excelled at deflecting blame. In which case, she'd be sending him on one heck of a wild goose chase.

“Thanks,” he muttered to Angelica, showing himself to the door.

Brad threw himself in the Jeep and chewed up a couple of bushes in his haste to return to the house. Angelica might not be targeting Nikki to find those diaries, but someone in her family sure as hell wanted them. And without knowing what the stakes were for that person, Brad had no way of telling how far they would go to get what they wanted.

 

S
HE WAS ALL ALONE.

Nikki felt almost guilty stealing outdoors in the late afternoon with the book of erotica in hand. What naughty intentions she had. But it was all Brad's fault.

The man had a potent physical affect on her. She felt like a different person around him. Her senses had never been more alive. The sun warmed her skin in a full body caress. The scent of cut grass hung in the air with a sweetness that made her breathe deep.

A chittering from the chipmunk's cage caught her attention, distracting her from her private destination point. She squatted for a closer look. The animal's torn ear had healthy pink edges without sign of infection or inflammation.

“Guess it's time for you to go, buddy.” Nikki hoisted the metal confine and carried it down to the wooded
area behind the house. Beneath a wild cherry tree, she opened the cage and backed away.

The chipmunk hesitated, cowering in the back of his cage, but before long, the call of another chipmunk tempted him outside. Soon, he scampered about with two other friends, seeming to find his place in the world.

Leaving the cage behind, Nikki ventured deeper into the woods with her book. Once, Chloe had mentioned a private wildflower meadow that held special memories for her and she hadn't made time yet to hunt it down since she'd inherited the home. She'd called it her secret garden.

Dense underbrush tickled Nikki bare legs as she hiked. Overhead, a woodpecker tapped a rotted tree, the hollow sound echoing through the woods. Gradually, the filtered light dappling her arms and face grew more intense. She burst into an open, fragrant space. Purple coneflowers, Queen Anne's lace and black-eyed Susans rippled in a delicate dance with the breeze. Monarch butterflies flitted from bloom to bloom, their beauty as colorful as their targets. Nikki inhaled the floral-scented air and wished she could bottle the heady fragrance.

In the center lay a large limestone rock in varying shades of gray and brown. Perfect for sun-bathing.

She picked her way across the meadow and stretched out on the warm stone. Cloud puffs sailed across a cerulean sky as she cracked open the book and began to read. Erotica was so much more fun when it wasn't the subject of scholarly dissection. Now, she could just imagine her and Brad in the place of the frolicking couple in her book. Her eyes drifted closed, lulled to sleep by the humming bees, warbling larks and rustling trees…

A soft caress against her cheek woke her. Brad's lustrous blue eyes gazed down at her, his dimples creasing in an incredibly hot smile. Nikki brought his head down, kissing him long and deep. She groaned as his lips possessed hers, their stroking tongues tangling.

Grabbing his wide shoulders, she pulled him on top of her. The feel of his muscular torso, powerful legs and hardening erection made her moan. She slid his hands over her sensitive breasts, desperate for his touch. When she could no longer take the mounting tension, she guided his hand lower. She spread her legs, feeling the pulsing heat of the bright afternoon sun between her hips. He stroked her slippery softness with increasing speed until she screamed, the fierceness of her release waking her.

She bolted upright and shook her head. Brad was nowhere in sight.

An erotic dream. Her first.

Yet the dampness between her thighs suggested parts of her reverie had been very real. Her cheeks flushed at the memory even as she smiled. If she and Brad ever did work on something more long-term, she could at least envision how she might get through the deployments without him. The dream had been like having him right there beside her.