Perfect Fit (20 page)

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey.”

“Sorry I took it out on you.” Her somber expression offered all the apology he needed.

He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She eased into his arms and curled up against him. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m afraid that when Daniella’s ex sees her again, he won’t welcome her with open arms but closed fists.”

He brushed her hair off her face and tucked her beneath his chin. “You can’t take on the world’s problems. No matter how much you want to.”

She let out a heartfelt sigh. They sat that way together in silence that was…easy and right.

“Thank you,” she said, quietly but with real meaning.

“You’re welcome.”

She blew out a long exhale and curled more tightly into him, her guilt and fear painfully obvious. He wished he could take it away, but he couldn’t. Instead he’d be here for her now, and if Daniella surfaced.

His biggest fear wasn’t that she’d come to rely on him.
No, his worry was that when he finally faced the fallout from Simon and Rex Bransom’s past, he’d be the one needing and relying on her.

After the call from the shelter, Cara arrived at work
in a bad mood, one that remained for the rest of the week. Though she still volunteered at the shelter, Daniella’s absence gave her a stomachache, and she couldn’t help but worry about her. Mike began instituting changes in their schedules, so she was on her own for daytime shifts. Not having a partner made her more aware of everything going on around her, and though the downtime was harder, the job became more challenging, the decisions her own.

When they were at the station, neither Mike nor Cara behaved any differently. He didn’t pay extra attention to her, and she didn’t go seeking any. And even if people had seen or heard about what went on between them at Joe’s, nobody commented. There was no fallout from their relationship from anyone.

Except Sam, who decided it was his job to warn her daily about his brother’s bachelor tendencies and lack of staying power. As much as Cara appreciated his concern, she was tired of hearing something she already knew, accepted, and didn’t want to think about until she had to.

A couple of times during the week, Cara took periodic drives past Daniella’s last known address, hoping for a glimpse but not finding one. She had to suppress the urge to ring the doorbell to the apartment, even during the day, afraid if Daniella’s ex-boyfriend saw her, in uniform or not, she might inadvertently set the man off. She knew how her father’s temper spiked when her mother spoke about enjoying other people’s company, and how he’d then crack down to prevent her from expanding her social circle or having interests outside him.

Finally, what felt like an endless workweek ended and
Cara came home, changed into sweat clothes, poured herself a large glass of cranberry juice, plopped down in her favorite chair, and breathed in deep. Nothing to do for two whole days, and the timing couldn’t be better since she needed a break from everything.

She hadn’t seen Mike alone, and she pondered calling him. Would it seem like a booty call? Or would it seem like she was too clingy if she didn’t wait to hear from him? Hmm. Why did she care what it seemed like when she wanted to be with him? The worst he could do was say no, and based on some of the covert looks he’d given her when he thought no one was looking, she didn’t think that would be the case.

She was just about to go looking for her cell phone when the doorbell rang. Putting her glass down on a coaster, she rose and headed to see who had stopped by. Sometimes her neighbor went away for the weekend and asked Cara to watch her cat while she was gone. Cara loved animals, but her work hours didn’t make it fair to have a pet, and she wouldn’t mind a little time with a fur baby.

She peeked out the window beside the door and blinked in surprise. Mike stood waiting, dressed in faded denim and his leather jacket, one arm braced on the molding outside.

She opened the door for him with a grin. “Mike!” She couldn’t hide her happiness at the surprise visit.

“Guess that assures me of my welcome.” He slipped one arm around her waist and hauled her against him for a long, hard kiss that she returned with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

“Mmm,” she moaned against his lips. “I missed this.”

“I missed you,” he said, stepping around her and walking farther inside.

“What’s up? Have you eaten dinner? I haven’t but I was about to make myself something.” She gestured toward the kitchen.

“I can’t. I’m on my way out of town.” His words took her
off guard, and she actually felt as though a knife stabbed her in the heart.

“Where are you going?” she asked, forcing air into her lungs, pretending she wasn’t panicked at the thought of him leaving.

He could be headed anywhere for any reason. Just because Sam had been warning her for days about his inability to stick didn’t mean he was going anywhere for good. Not yet.

“Vegas. To find my father.”

“Oh. Wow.” Thank God. It wasn’t back to New York. It wasn’t permanent.

But her reaction to his announcement that he was leaving town told her in no uncertain terms she was getting too close, letting herself get too used to him here, in Serendipity.

She exhaled hard. “I didn’t know you’d decided on a plan.” She focused on the case and his past, not on her own silly emotions, which needed to be tucked back into the box she normally kept them in. The box that had stayed easily sealed off before Mike came back to town.

“It was a last-minute decision. I could have contacted him on Facebook, but that would give him control to decide whether he wanted to see me. I decided the element of surprise would work to my advantage. Maybe if I catch him off guard, he’ll reveal more about his time here.” He laid out his thought process with ease, but Cara caught the tight set of his jaw and knew that nothing about this decision was simple.

“How did you find him?”

“I had someone I trust do some digging, then hired a P.I. Turns out Rex hangs out most nights at a place called Shots. Some dive not known for its high-end liquor or clientele. So I know where I’ll be going when I hit town.” Mike frowned in obvious disgust.

Cara didn’t think first, she just said what came to mind.
“Want company?” As soon as the words escaped, she could have kicked herself.

No doubt he didn’t want anyone around to witness his reunion with the father he’d never met. A man he’d always hated…and, Cara suspected, wanted to know anyway. Which was the exact reason he shouldn’t take this trip alone.

Eleven

Mike hadn’t considered asking Cara to go along. He
handled his shit alone, especially the personal stuff. Yet for some reason, he hadn’t hesitated to say yes when she’d asked. He refused to let her pay for her ticket, and he was lucky enough to snag her a seat next to him. She was unusually silent throughout the flight, but he didn’t think much about it. He had plenty to keep his mind occupied, the idea of meeting his real father for the first time churning his stomach. She must have understood because she bought magazines and a Patricia Cornwell novel, and delved into those in place of conversation.

An hour in, the pilot reminded them to put their seat belts on because of expected turbulence. Mike glanced at his buckle and Cara did the same, checking and double-checking before returning to her book—until the plane took what felt like a quick dip and consecutive bumps continued to shake the aircraft.

Cara sucked in a breath and grabbed Mike’s arm as the big jet continued to bounce around in the sky. “Oh my God,
oh my God.” She repeated the phrase, her nails digging into his skin, leaving deep grooves in his flesh.

The plane jerked again and he covered her hand with his, prying her fingernails up and threading his hand into hers.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He glanced at her pale face. “Have you ever flown before?”

“A couple of times, but I’ve never gotten used to it.” She shook her head and glanced down, her cheeks pink.

“Why didn’t you tell me flying bothered you?” he asked her, touched that she’d offered to join him anyway.

She shrugged.

He grinned. “I know why. You want me to think you’re tough.”

“I
am
tough,” she said, glaring at him.

He chuckled and reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That you are.”

She lifted her eyes to his, warmth shimmering there at his honest assessment. Then she smiled, her gratitude and emotions there for him to see, socking him unexpectedly in the gut.

“So, where are we staying? I didn’t think to ask.” She changed the subject and he was grateful.

“The Bellagio.” When she’d said she was coming on this trip, he’d changed his reservation from the unassuming MGM to a place she wouldn’t soon forget.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes opening wider. “The hotel from
Ocean’s Eleven
? The one with the huge waterfalls?”

He’d obviously chosen well. The normally sedate Cara squealed in delight, making him extra glad he’d switched.

“Wait until you see the room,” he said, squeezing her hand and noticing how she’d forgotten all about the turbulence. “And I made a dinner reservation tomorrow night at Delmonico’s in the Venetian.” He wanted to show her what
Vegas had to offer, including a gondola ride, something he’d never imagined wanting to go on.

“Are you sure about all this?” A tiny crease formed between her brows as she crinkled her nose in concern. “I know this has to be expensive and—”

He cut her off with a finger over her lips, and her pretty blue eyes dilated to a deeper hue. He was about to remove his hand when she nipped the pad of his finger with her teeth.

“Damn,” he muttered as his cock jumped in his pants, swelling against the rough denim of his jeans. “Unless you want me to make you a member of the mile-high club, I suggest you cut that out.” He pulled his hand back before he jumped her right there in her seat.

She grinned, mighty pleased with herself, making him laugh.

“Behave,” he muttered.

“If you insist.” She eased back into her seat, facing forward, an impish and irresistible smile still on her face.

Mike shifted in his seat, knowing he’d be uncomfortable for the rest of the flight.

“Oh! It’s calm now. Thank you for distracting me,” she murmured, now completely relaxed.

Unlike him, he thought wryly. He hoped he could wait to get to Vegas and check in because he needed stress relief before facing his father.

He needed Cara.

From the moment the plane took off until now, when
she stepped into the large
suite
—not a room, a
suite
—Cara had been in awe. She didn’t know what it was costing Mike, and to her surprise, she didn’t plan to ask. Instead, she’d decided to let herself enjoy.

And enjoy she did. Mike clearly wanted her, pinning her
to the California king in the center of the room as soon as the bellman left them alone. From there, they christened the bed—more than once, at which point it was after midnight, Nevada time.

They spent the next day doing fun things, like taking a tour of Madame Tussauds museum, playing roulette, making love, showering, and heading to dinner. At Delmonico’s, Cara ate the best steak of her life. She and Mike talked about everything and nothing, with the exception of the night ahead and his hoped-for meeting with Rex Bransom.

With Mike, she was at once comfortable and always aroused, enjoying her time with him whether they agreed on the topic at hand or not. He was easy to be with. Too easy, and she had to keep reminding herself she couldn’t get complacent or convince herself Mike was someone who’d be around for long.

After dinner, they returned to the room to change clothes before heading over to Shots. On the ride up in the elevator and then back in the suite, Mike grew increasingly silent, and Cara gave him his space. She’d packed quickly, but she’d deliberately chosen the outfit she’d worn the first time she and Mike were together, a short skirt and her favorite cowboy boots that allowed her to strap on her ankle holster and small Glock. Airline rules allowed them to bring their weapons but not ammo, and they’d bought bullets earlier in the day. Just in case. They both felt more comfortable knowing they were armed.

The television blared the sound from a movie as they dressed without speaking. Cara wriggled into her cropped top with a deep V, pleased when Mike stopped to watch, his eyes drawn to her cleavage before he shook his head and pulled his gaze away. At least she provided a distraction for him.

They headed for the lobby; Mike kept her hand tight inside his. Although most people around them were more dressed up for the evening, the women in high heels and
sequined short dresses, once they arrived at Shots, a dive bar on a side street far off the main strip, Cara and Mike’s casual attire worked just fine.

Unlike the light, welcoming atmosphere at Joe’s, the mood at Shots was heavy and dark. What lighting existed was minimal, and the place catered to a skeevy clientele that made even Cara, a seasoned cop, uncomfortable. As if sensing her emotions, Mike reached back and grasped her hand, pulling her close beside him as they made their way through the crowd.

She didn’t know his plan for tonight, and she hadn’t wanted to ask. She’d take her cues from him.

Mike glanced around the dimly lit bar, wondering if he’d recognize his old man on sight. His mother hadn’t kept photographs around, and though Mike could have looked through old yearbooks at the high school or Googled, something always held him back. Maybe on some level, he’d always known this day of reckoning would come, that he’d have to face his father, and he’d wanted to do it on his terms.

He took in the smoky bar, the class of people here, and his stomach churned. He was about to push his way through the crush and buy a drink when a loud, masculine burst of laughter caught his attention and somehow he
knew
.

“What’s wrong?” Cara asked.

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You’re squeezing my hand so tight I think you broke something.” She pulled her hand from his and shook it out.