Stuck On You (8 page)

The Rose Lake Sheriff's Department tolerated them because they were a wealth of information on some of the bigger happenings in town, and because they were pretty much harmless on the whole.

"Turn up something, and I'll be good to you," Mack said, bending over to stretch his legs and back.

"How about a down payment? I gotta give my lady some support money." Plato looked down at the caved-in sidewalk and shifted from foot-to-foot.

Mack dipped into the pocket of his sweats and came up empty. "Sorry, man. I didn't grab any money."

Plato shrugged his shoulders, but Mack knew that whatever Plato would find out would be important.

"When's your team going to have that information?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

"We'll meet here. Same time. I'll come prepared then and we'll deal."

Plato nodded, looking happier. "See ya' then, Sarge."

Mack took off at full throttle, knowing that he had a lot of time to make up. Then he remembered that he had a twenty in the side pocket of his jogging shoes. He hesitated, deciding to hurry to the police station. Oh, what the hell.

"Yo!" Mack yelled.

Plato looked up, as Mack hurried back. He bent down, took the money from his shoe, and handed it to Plato. "I forgot about this. Consider it a down payment."

Plato nodded as Mack stuffed the bill into his hand.

It was at that exact moment that Mack saw Kate Kingston turn the corner in her Blazer.

#

Kate stopped at a red light and checked her rear view mirror. Either she needed new contact lenses, or she had just seen a man in black jogging sweats and wool cap press something into Plato Corlett's hand. Money, no doubt. It was subtle, but the signs of a deal going down were all there: furtive glances, the faster-than-a-handshake pressing of palms, and the slipping of money or drugs into pockets. Then both parties scurried away like rats into a sewer.

She sighed. When she was a probation officer, Plato used to be on her caseload for possession and sale of marijuana. Plato was likable enough and she had tried her best to get him to finish school and get a job, but he seemed content to just run the streets and lead
The Greeks
.

Kate shook her head. Although she had loved her job as a probation officer, it was near impossible to rehabilitate someone who didn't want to be. Looked like she failed yet another probationer. Plato—and probably the jogger in black—would soon be headed for a trip through Rose Lake’s criminal justice system.

Kate reined in her thoughts about Plato and focused on her current client.

Mack. He’d better be home.

She was beginning to see a couple of dents in his armor, some tiny holes in his bravado, a sadness in his eyes. It all had to be getting to him—the publicity, the embarrassment—and even his fellow cops were doubting his innocence. Mack’s own father was quoted as saying that Mack should have never have become a cop.

Kate reminded herself that her primary concern was to monitor Mack’s house arrest and guarantee Mack’s subsequent appearances in court. She shouldn’t get involved in his personal affairs.

But she had a nagging suspicion, that she was already involved.

Kate made turn-after-turn, maneuvering up and down the maze of narrow city streets and dodging parked cars, hoping that she was heading in the general direction of Mack's house.

Figures that there'd be a water main break when she was in a hurry. Finally, she saw Pine Street and pulled into his driveway.

Thinking about her next course of action if Mack wasn't there, and hoping she wouldn't have to surrender him, she entered the garage and knocked on the door which led to his kitchen.

"Hang on," was the response from within.

At least he was home.

Kate waited, listening to quick footsteps and the sound of cupboards opening and shutting. Not able to resist, she felt the hood of his car. It was cool.

She paced. What was taking him so long? She stopped to look out the window on the back door and noticed that the tall wet grass was matted in places, particularly by the metal trash cans on the side of a rusty metal storage shed.

"C'mon, Mack. I need to talk to you," she yelled.

She opened the back door, leaned against the frame and watched a black and white cat playing with a string that was hanging from the garbage can. The cat, looking more than a little soggy and cold, then jumped on top of the can in one easy leap, and swatted at the string again.

"Molly, where are you sweetheart?"

A fragile-looking woman with cotton candy white hair and a walker appeared in the yard behind Mack's. She was dressed from head to toe in a bright yellow raincoat and hat, like a big canary.

"Molly, you darn cat. You're going to be the death of me yet. Where are you sweetie?"

Kate eyed the cat perched on the garbage can. "Is Molly black and white?" she yelled.

"Yes." The woman nodded. "Have you seen her?"

Kate pointed. "She's right here, playing with a string. I'll bring her to you if you think she'll come to me."

"She will. And thank you."

Kate tentatively approached the cat. "C'mon Molly. Time to go home."

The cat looked up briefly, then returned to batting the string. Kate scooped her up. "If you want to play with that, I'll get it for you, kitty." As she reached for it, she saw that it was a shoelace. As she tugged, the lid of the can fell off and she found herself holding on to a muddy, wet running shoe. "Sorry, Molly," she said, tossing it back into the can. "You don't want this."

She walked through the soggy grass toward the woman.

"I'm Sarah Tucker, dear. Thank you for bringing my girl back."

"It was no trouble. She's a good cat." Sarah scratched Molly behind her ears, and the cat purred contentedly. "I'm Kate Kingston."

"Very nice to meet you." Mrs. Tucker smiled, then focused back on Molly. "She just keeps scooting out on me. Would you mind putting her in the kitchen?" Sarah turned and started toward the door, her walker creaking with each step.

Kate followed behind Sarah and opened the door for her. Sarah manipulated her walker up the single concrete step, and Kate gently let Molly down on the yellow linoleum floor. The cat disappeared inside.

"Would you like some tea, Kate?"

"Some other time perhaps. Mrs. Tucker." Kate smiled at the woman. "I have some things I need to take care of right now."

Sarah's eyes twinkled. "Are you a friend of Johnny's?"

Kate thought. "Oh...John Mackowitz. Well, I'm not exactly a friend."

"A girlfriend then?"

"No. Absolutely not."

Sarah smiled, her disbelief showing on her face. "Of course you're not, dear. But do tell Johnny that I'll be baking sugar cookies tomorrow. He does love them. I'll ring him and tell him when they're ready and he can pick them up."

It was right on the tip of Kate's tongue to tell her that Mack has to stay within twenty feet of his house, but decided not to get into it.

"And tell him that I don't believe what they say in the paper about him." She shook her head. "Johnny's a nice boy."

Kate wanted to agree with her, desperately, but about now she just didn't know. She had a gut feeling that he'd snuck out again this morning. The VV-98 couldn't be wrong.

Mrs. Tucker winked. "Actually, I think Johnny's a stud muffin. Don't you, dear?"

Kate laughed. "Yes, Mrs. Tucker. I'd have to agree with you on that."

"If I were only fifty years younger, or if he were fifty years older..."

Chuckling, Kate headed back through Mack's yard and saw the lid to his garbage can on the grass. She must not have replaced it securely. She picked the lid up and was just about to put it back when she noticed a black wool cap and a black sweatshirt. The other shoe was in there as well. Underneath was a pair of black sweatpants.

Kate's stomach churned as she dropped the wet items back into the can as if they carried a communicable disease. Slamming the lid back on, she wished she had never snooped.

Mack was the man she'd just seen with Plato.

Mack's was...is...a drug dealer. Why else would he be meeting Plato Corlett?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stormed back into the garage, and pounded on the door leading to the kitchen. "Mack, open the door!"

Faster footsteps—more doors banging.

"Mack!" she shouted.

The door swung open and he stood to the side waiting for her to enter. He was shirtless and shoeless, clad only in a pair of faded jeans. His hair was tousled and damp around his face.

Walking into the kitchen, she tried to gather her thoughts and chart her course of action. "Did you just get out of the shower?" she said, eyeing his hair.

He shook his head. "No. I was just doing some sit-ups and push-ups. I work out every morning —to keep fit." Smiling, he held his fist up and flexed his biceps. "I could still play football for the Roosters, huh?"

In spite of his sparkling eyes and his grin, he was lying. At any other time, she would have enjoyed his flexing demo and would have bantered with him, but not now. Not when her head was splitting, her stomach was churning, and her heart was breaking.

"Do you still jog like you used to? I remember that you always used to run at the high school track," she asked.

His eyes narrowed, but they met hers right on. "I still run."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah. Usually."

Kate leaned against the counter. "Did you run this morning? In the rain?"

He raised an eyebrow. He was cool, so cool. "What's this? An interrogation? Should I call a lawyer?"

"You mean you haven't called one already?" Kate asked.

He picked up a coffee mug and took a sip. "If you have something to say, Kate, just spit it out."

"Okay. I believe you left the house this morning and met with Plato Corlett. At first I hastily thought you bought drugs from him, but I’ve since ruled that out. Plato was on my caseload, and I know he’s a Greek and an informant.”

He set the mug down so hard that coffee sloshed out and dripped down the counter onto the floor. "I’m touched by your confidence in me. That you, along with everyone else, think that I’m selling drugs.” His eyes narrowed, and his words were clipped. “But in the future, should you be inclined to think so bad of me, remember that I spit on drugs, Kate. Remember that. They’ve ruined a lot of lives and will continue to do so. I’ve spent my career trying to keep them out of Rose Lake.”

"I believe you. I do. I told you that I changed my mind. But you still left your house."

"Then there's no sense in me denying it."

"None."

“Then I won’t insult your intelligence.”

“Thank you.”

CHAPTER 5

Kate wasn’t going to quit nagging him until he told her more, but he didn’t want to tell her more. He wasn’t sure what was going on himself.

"I didn't know that it was you at the time,” she said, “but I know now, because I found the clothes you were wearing in your trash."

She must have been a terrific Probation Officer and probably would have made a good cop. "You went through my trash cans?"

"Well, the lady in the back, Mrs. Tucker, was calling for her cat and the cat was on your trash can, and–"

Mack smiled, but Kate wasn’t amused.

She put her hands in the air. "I give up. I can’t do this anymore. I’m surrendering you to Judge Nash."

Mack ran his fingers through his wet hair, wishing he knew the best way to handle Kate. She was always intense, studious, and maybe a little too serious for her own good, but he’d heard that she did have a lot riding on this program of hers, so he couldn't blame her. He decided to change tactics and appeal to her with reason. "Would you care to have a cup of coffee with me and discuss this civilly?"

"Will you tell me the truth as to what’s going on and what happened the day of the drug bust?"

"I'll try," he finally said. It was difficult to sort out fact from fiction lately. "Let me take your coat."

Kate shrugged out of her beige rain coat and handed it to him. He took it and did a double take. Kate was wearing a slip of a black satin nightgown.
A black satin nightgown!

He knew he was staring, but what the hell else could he do? The view was magnificent. She had long, tanned legs and taut breasts, and apparently she was cold, although Mack would have liked to believe that she was reacting to his bare chest. He grinned, loving how she managed to look sweet and sexy along with tough and feminine all at the same time.

Kate followed his gaze, gasped and crossed her arms over her breasts. "I–I forgot."

She grabbed for her coat and hurriedly put it back on. It was like covering up a work of art.

"And why don't you go and put a shirt on?" she said.

Kate was pink-faced, and Mack stifled a smile. It flattered him to believe that his bare chest unnerved her a little. Hell, she’d seen a lot more of him than just his chest!

Maybe he'd hold off on putting on a shirt a while longer. "Let me pour you some coffee."

As her eyes swept over him again, a darker blush crept up her cheeks. "I'll pour the coffee," she blurted. "Go."

He left her standing there in her coat, looking flustered, looking sweet. He was being framed and set-up to take a big fall, yet Kate Kingston still could turn him on.

She wasn't immune to him either. He could tell that he’d met her approval while he was in the shower, and he was positive that she wanted to be kissed by him yesterday. Only he had chickened out.

Someday, he'd like to kiss her the way he really wanted.

Physical attraction was fine, but for some crazy reason, he wanted her to believe in him just a gram more than he wanted to take her to bed. But so far, he hadn't done a thing to win her trust, so why the hell should she believe in him?

His own father didn’t believe in him, so why should he expect Kate to be any different?

He found an old orange Syracuse University tee shirt in his drawer and tossed it on. As he walked back to the kitchen, he decided to tell her what he knew so far. Well, not everything. Just enough to pacify her.

Kate's life could be in danger just from being this close to him. He'd been to hell and back with Tom getting shot. If something happened to Kate, too, he would never, ever, forgive himself.