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DARE TO REMEMBER







Debra Cowan




Contents:

Prologue

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Epilogue




Prologue

^

What was she doinghere? Despite the unease sliding through him, Mace Garrett couldn't take his eyes off the sexy brunette walking toward him.

He rose from his desk, appreciating the honeyed sway of her hips and the tantalizing flash of brown leg bared by themidcalf hem of her skin.

Though he'd kissed and touched her ivory, velvet skin only hours ago, his body hardened in anticipation, as it always did when he saw his fiancée. But his surprise at seeingDevonin the squad room took precedence over his physical reaction.

"Hi, Dev"

"I need to talk to you." Her gaze darted nervously around the room crowded with desks and chairs and detectives. "Now."

"Sure." Mace cautioned himself to remain calm. Something was botheringDevon, enough to compel her to come to the station. In the months since they'd met and become engaged, she'd never stepped foot in here.

He ushered her into the battered gray rest room shared by the entire unit and closed the door.

She stood in the center of the room, her back to him,her shoulders tight beneath the floral fabric of her dress.

Mace walked up behind her, sensing fear. What had happened? Concerned now, he slid his hands around her waist and locked them under her breasts, bringing her gently back against him. He pressed a kiss to her neck. "Hey, you all right?"

"Yes." She leaned into him for a heartbeat,then pulled away. "No. Don't. I can't do this."

He chuckled. "Babe, all I did was kiss"

"I can't marry you." Her words rushed out, cracking the air like a gunshot.

Mace blinked. "What?"

She turned to him, and he stared into her beautiful silver-green eyes, dusky now like bad air before a storm. He felt the floor tilt beneath him.

She was upset about his close call last night. That was all.

Pain wrenched her delicate features, and she tugged at the diamond solitaire on her left hand.

Panic jolted him like a shot of raw electricity and he gripped her elbow, stalling her movement. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

His attempt at teasing only caused her eyes to darken with fear and desperation.

She looked exactly as she had a few days ago at the hospital emergency room, when he andO'Kelly had been involved in that shooting at the crack house. At the time, she'd been on the edge of panic, but she had calmed down. Or so Mace had thought.

Fear shifted through him. "What the hell is going on?"

"I can't marry you. I can't be a policeman's wife."

"You're upset about last night. Look, I'm okay." He spread his arms wide so she could see what she already knew, that he was indeed uninjured. "See?"

But instead of taking stock of him, she focused on the shoulder holster that held his .357 short-barreledMagnum , and he silently cursed. If he'd known she was coming up, he would've taken it off. But he hadn't known.

"I have nightmares, Mace." Her voice, thin and brittle, bit at him like cold steel. "Horrible,real nightmares."

"That's normal, baby." He moved closer, still not touching, though he wanted to gather her up and give her his strength. "You were in the house when your father was killed. It's a lot to deal with. It's gonna take time"

"The dreams aren't about him." She lifted her gaze to his, terror darkening her eyes to a flat void gray. "They're about you. You're the one who dies."

He knew not to downplay her fears; they were all too real and faced daily by a cop's wife. ButDevon's seemed more pronounced since Bill's death. Though dread hammered at him, Mace kept his voice low and gentle, soothing her panic with reason. "Don't you think I have dreams, too?"

"N-not like this." She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, locked away from him, distant. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she were ashamed. "I can't eat. I can't sleep. I think I'm losing my mind."

"You just need time. I'm willing to give you that."

Her gaze, agonized and bleak, lifted to his. "I couldn't bear to see you the way I had to see my father, lying there in a pool of bloodI couldn't bear it if you were shot like him."

Denial pushed through him. Everything he'd ever searched for was represented in hergoodness, hope, the promise of forever. He couldn't lose her, couldn't losethem . "I'll leave the street. I can work a desk."

"No! I would never ask you to do that. You love your job as much as I love mine, and you're too good at it. You should be able to do it without having to choose between it and your wife's sanity. I don't want that."

Choking back her sobs, she slid the engagement ring from her trembling hand and held it out to him on her open palm. He refused to take it. The distance widened between them, pried them apart with a combination of anger and rejection and humiliation.

"Dammit,Devon!" He grabbed her, trying to control the rage, the fear reaching for him. "You can't do this! I can't lose you. I won't give you up."

"You have to." She pulled away, her eyes filling with tears. Then she squared her shoulders and walked out the door. Her steps echoed on the city-issue, aged linoleum, hollow clicks that drove into him like spikes of pain.

Without being aware that he'd moved, Mace found himself in front of the water cooler, staring blankly at what she'd left behind.

Her ring.His ring.

Anger began a slow burn inside him, rising to an icy rage. His hand closed over the diamond solitaire, embedding it into his palm, and he punched his fist through the wall.



Chapter 1

«^

"You look like you've been rode hard and put up wet,"O'Kelly commented.

Mace snorted as he dug through the files on his desk, looking for the 211 that Burglary had collared last night. The prints on one Gordon Dale Jens,aka Diamond Dale, matched a set found at the Wadley scene, and Mace thought he might have a hunch where the trail led from the two-bit thief.

ReidO'Kelly slumped down in the chair across from Mace's scarred desk and groaned, rubbing his right shoulder.

Mace's partner had survived the shooting at the crack house last year, though his muscle had been as shredded as used tissue. He'd come through his physical therapy on pure stubbornness.

All things considered,O'Kelly had weathered the incident a hell of a lot better than Mace.O'Kelly's arm might hang like that of a used-up, worn-out pitcher, but at least his mind hadn't gone to mush because of a female.

"No luck on the Landry lead?"

"Nope." Mace slammed the door on further thoughts of the opposite sex. Especially of one particular female.

"So, you didn't tell Marilee Landry about the latest?"

"That lead was a dead end, just like the others. Didn't want to get her hopes up."

"Something'll turn up, man."

"Yeah, right." Mace grabbed the Wadley file and eased back into his chair. Held together with duct tape and a hardwood base, the chair groaned and creaked with Mace's weight.

"What about that other set of prints from the Wadley job? Don't you think those could belong to someone in theMartressa organization?"

"Hell, they could be the president's for all it'll get us." It had been over a year since Bill Landry's murder, over a year sinceDevon

Nothing had turned up.O'Kelly knew the probability of evidence surfacing, especially now and especially on this case. Evidence concerningMartressa and his organization seemed to evaporate like rain in a hotOklahomawind.

"If you want Marilee to know things are still open, I'll talk to her. If you don't feel like it."

"I don't mind talking toher ." Mace leveled a flat stare at his partner that plainly said "Drop it." "Besides, she knows the case is still open."

Mace continued to have a close relationship with Marilee Landry. And though they never discussed her daughter anymore, he knew Marilee had wished, like he had, for a wedding last year.

He also knew, thanks to Marilee, that if there were a wedding this year, it wouldn't be Mace wearing the monkey suit and saying "I do." Despite attemptinga reconciliation withDevon, he had been unsuccessful. And now she was involved with some pantywaist nine-to-fiver. An accountant, dammit. Awuss . A wimpy bean counter.

"You still think there's a connection betweenMartressa and Diamond Dale?"

"I know we've never found a link, but yeah, I think so. Bill discovered the person who was leaking information toMartressa , but wouldn't say who over the phone." Mace shoved his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know! If I'd been with Bill like I was supposed to be"

"You might be dead, too,"O'Kelly said flatly. He leaned across the desk, his green gaze drilling into Mace.

"Hey, man, it's not your fault. Bill got too close andMartressa had him taken out. You know the risks."

Yes, Mace knew them. And it wasn't exactly guilt he felt over Bill Landry. It was more a sense of responsibility to his friend, the man who'd showed him the ropes when he'd first started in Homicide. That January night last year, Bill had been expecting Mace, and by the time he'd finally arrived, Bill had been dead.

Mace had had no control over that situation, but he could damn sure stay onMartressa's case. He shoved his hands through his hair again. "WhoisMartressa's connection? Every time we try to jump on the slime, he closes up his gambling ring, shuts down his drug operations for a month or so. Then he's back in business again. It has to be somebody inside the PD who's givingMartressa the info."

"Bill was going down the list of every employee workingVice and Narcotics. We'll just keep on it."O'Kelly had never blamed Mace for being late to meet Bill. And neither hadDevon.

Because she hadn't known, Mace told himself. She hadn't known that Mace was due to meet her father at the house to get some new information. She hadn't known that Mace had been late due to his own bachelor party.

But Mace knew. He'd had hours and hours to think about itover endless stakeouts, tall cold longnecks and lonely, infinitely long nights. "Maybe the Wadley job was a onetime deal Dale pulled forMartressa , but there's a connection somehow."

IfO'Kelly thought Mace was reaching, he didn't say so. And he'd never advised Mace to close the file, likeLightsey and Palmer had. Mace would never close the file, even though he'd once offered to quit the case. A year ago. A lifetime ago.

ButDevonhadn't wanted thatshe hadn't wanted anything from him. Mace had spent his entire adult life dealing with crises, handling traumas, solving crimes, but he hadn't been able to do a damn thing to avert his own crisis.

AfterDevonhad broken their engagement, Mace had given her, and him, a day to cool off. He'd tried to talk to her again, but her arguments were just as vehement.

"I can't live with the fear, Mace."

"You need someone who can be your partner. Not someone you have to baby. You would hate me. I would hate myself."

"Maybe I don't love you enough."

"The fear won't go away Mace. I'm afraid, no matter how much I want us. I can't be a policeman's wife."

And she'd been right, Mace could admit now, almost without rancor. Shewasn't cut out for this kind of life. Thanks to Bill, she had been too sheltered to have any real idea of the fear and uncertainty faced daily by a cop's wife.

Bill and Marilee Landry had divorced whenDevonwas a child. Though Bill hated being separated fromDevon, he was glad she wasn't involved in that part of his life. He had always flatly refused to share any aspect of his job withDevonor Marilee.

It wasDevon's naiveté about Mace's job that had first intrigued him at the beginning of their relationship. And in the end it had caused their breakup. They didn't discuss his job. Period. If the subject ever came up, she shied away. And even though Mace thought Bill too overprotective of his daughter, Mace, too, had taken it uponhimself to shelter her in the same way.

Hell, he was finally over her, so why was he thinking about her? EvenO'Kelly knew not to bring up her name, despite talking about her mother and dancing around the details of Bill's case.

Down the hall someone pounded on the soda machine and cursed. A few desks away, Palmer slammed down his phone, then walked past Mace, muttering.

Mace spied the Wadley file and slipped it from under the stack.

O'Kellyleaned back and stretched his long legs on top of the desk, grinning. "How'd things work out with that redhead last night?"

"They didn't." Mace flipped through the file.

"Hell, you passed onher?"

"Wasn't in the mood," he warned in clipped tones. FeelingO'Kelly's probing gaze, Mace glanced up.

"That's twice in a row. I still can't believe you turned down that sweet little blonde last weekend at the lake."

"Just how sweet was she?"

O'Kellygrinned.

Mace had dated in the last year, but no one more than once.O'Kelly had paraded an endless number of women in front of him, but Mace wasn't interested. Not yet, anyway.

Only in the last few months had he gotten over Devon Landry.

Totally, completely. He wasn't looking for another woman to use his heart as a dartboard.

He'd always enjoyed women, too much to settle for just one. Until he'd met Dev. And now, after his broken engagement, no woman could hold his attention for longer than a drink or a dance. He resented that, just as he resented other things.

Yes, he was over her, but it still didn't dim the pain, the rejection he felt that she had walked away from him. He hadn't been enough for hernot his love, not his strength. Damn, hadn't he told himself he wouldn't think about her? He'd become a pro at dismissing thoughts of her, but sometimes they ambushed him and he couldn't escape. Like now.

It had been over a year, andDevonhadn't changed her mind, hadn't contacted him or even happened across his path. Nor would she.

Frustration burned and he reached over to flip open the case file. An old gum wrapper, caught inside, fluttered at the movement. Not one of Mace's leads on Bill's murder had panned out. No witnesses in or outside of the house; no prints anywhere. According to the report,Devonand her mother had both been asleep upstairs.

For a while after Bill's murder, there had been threats on Mace's life, but even those had stopped, which was more telling than anything else. If they were close to anything onMartressa , the slimy drug dealer would never have called off his goons.

Maybe heshould close the file. Or turn the case over to someone else.

But at the thought, guilt pricked him and the need for revenge rose up. Mace had failed both father and daughter. And even ifO'Kelly didn't agree with that, Mace knew his partner would agree to press hard on this case.Martressa had killed the man who was not only Mace's future father-in-law and a friend, but a cop. That was reason enough to nail the criminal.

Mace had to solve the murder. Even though he would have to deal with these raw maverick thoughts ofDevon, keeping the case open was the only way he could put her behind him and move on with his life.

* * *

Devonstood in the sloping driveway of her neighbor's house helping the Lockwood twins paint a banner for the annual neighborhood End-of-School block party. School for students had been officially dismissed yesterday.

Late May sunshine burned away thin wispy clouds. The wind piggybacked scents of freshly cut grass, damp earth and the perfume of peach and yellow roses that bloomed in vibrant abandon between her house and Carol Lockwood's.

The wind and sun and fresh air triggered an image of Mace in her mind. Mace, as gentle as summer rain with her, as fierce as anOklahomawinter when protecting her.

Would she ever forget him?

Devonno longer had the nightmares. She no longer broke out in a cold sweat when the phone rang or when sirens screamed in the night. That had to be because she was no longer with Mace. The fact saddened her, but it couldn't be denied.

Those horrible dreams had started after Dad's death. As months passed, they'd intensified rather than lessened, and Mace had become the victim, the one who died. She'd never told him how bad the dreams were or how they'd hounded her for monthsbefore their breakup. Maybe she should've, but what did it matter now? They'd both moved on.

Still, sometimes she thought of him. His scent, which was a heady blend of sun and wind and rain. His deep blue eyes. The way he made her laugh or the way he made love to her lips until every bone in her body flowed into liquid warmth.

And the memories pricked like needles. She tried to ignore them, but even after a year she couldn't. The pain was always there, gnawing just beneath the surface, usually relegated to a dull ache that centered in her heart.

Mace had attempteda reconciliation , butDevonhadn't changed her mind; for both their sakes, she couldn't. Now she was involved with Josh, and Mace was well, Mace wasuninvolved with several women, according to Mom.

Devonknew Marilee remained in close contact with Mace, butDevonnever asked about him. It was toopainful, too much a reminder of how she'd failed him.

The year anniversary of their breakup had been enough of a reminder.Devonhad tried valiantly to pretend to herself that she wasn't even aware of what day it was, but it was a lie.

And Josh had known something was wrong. He hadn't pressed her; he never did, but he had known and gone out of his way to make that evening special for them.

Most days she coped just fine. She had a full life, a safe life. Her special-education students had never been happier. Her mother had left yesterday for a cruise, the first self-indulgent thing she'd done since Dad's death seventeen months ago, and too long in coming.

Even thoughDevon's parents had divorced whenDevonwas seven, they'd remained close. They still loved each other, but Marilee couldn't live with the chance that each day might be Bill's last. She couldn't cope with the consuming nature of his job or the inner circle of which she'd never felt a part.

Devonsaw how painful it was for both of them, and she had vowed never to let that happen to her marriage. Well, she didn't have to worry about that now.

She wished again that she could've gone on the cruise with her mother, but as a teacher, she had yet to have her last day of school.

Carol Lockwood brought out a pitcher of lemonade and ducked beneath the paper sign that her oldest twin, Brad, hung above the garage door. "After all that rain last week, it feels like a sauna out here,"Devonmurmured.

Her slender neighbor handed her the plastic pitcher glistening with condensation and separated the cups she held in her other hand. "It must be ninety-five degrees, and it's barely the first of June."

"You've lived here long enough to know not to expect too many seventy-degree days." Grateful that Carol's arrival had pushed away thoughts ofMace,Devonpressed the cool cup to her cheek and sighed in relief. "Although I wouldn't mind if spring lasted more than two weeks. We've only painted two signs and I feel wrung out."

Cans of red, blue, green and yellow paint were scattered across the driveway. Long strips of white butcher paper curled like giant ribbon in the yard and across the fence, waiting to be transformed into one of the Lockwood twins' now infamous posters.

Last year the favorite had been Barry's caricature drawing of the twins' father, as a fat, bald man sporting three prominent whiskers on his chin. Barry had drawn the man on a three-legged stool with a finger up his nose. His caption "Don't Sit aroundPickin ' your Nose allSummer Party With the Block," had caused Carol to roll her eyes and the neighborhood kids to exclaim, "Cool!"

Devondecided not to ask what he would do to top himself this year. After finishing her drink, she handed the cup to Carol and picked up a paintbrush to finish a sunflower on one corner of a banner.

Barry tossed his cup to Brad, who clutched it to his chest and dodged aroundDevon. "The pass is complete," he roared in his best sportscaster imitation. "He's going for the goal line."

"Brad, quit horsing around and helpDevon." Carol swatted her son's rear on her way inside.

Brad grinned and loped back toDevon. His long legs were knobby like a giraffe's, yet he moved more gracefully than the boys she'd known in high school. He tossed his cup into the yard and picked up a brush, dipping it into the red paint.

In front of them, Barry worked on his next masterpiece, the sign they would use to cordon off one end of the block. He worked carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration as he finished a pencil sketch.

BesideDevon, Brad stopped,then leaned forward to splatter a dab of red paint on the back of Barry's legs.

"Butthead! Knock it off!" Barry turned and grabbed for another brush to join in the war. He missed and his foot slammed into the can of paint.

It crashed to the ground and tipped over, red paint gushing out.

"Uh oh." Barry yanked the can upright, but the damage had been done.

"Mom's gonna kill you," Brad howled.

"It was your fault," Barry snapped.

"Better get something to clean it up."Devonlooked down and froze, inexplicably repelled by the sight of the red liquid spilling down the incline.

Wet and shiny and red. Dark red. It rolled toward her.

Pressure swelled behind her eyes and she squeezed them shut. Another migraine? She hadn't had one since the dreams had stopped.

She opened her eyes, rubbing her temples, watching as red paint oozed toward her white tennis shoes, moving closer and closer then tracing around them. Red paint speckled her shoes, marred the clean whiteness.

Flashes of her dream returned and she shook her head, trying to escape the images.

A man's face.

Blood.

Dark hair. Like hers.

Devon's breath jammed in her throat. It was the dream. No. Something was different about these images. Before, Mace's face had been plainly visible as he lay dying.

Now

She struggled to blank out the images in her mind, and tension squeezed her chest. She could still see the man. Who was it? He had dark hair, broad shoulders. It was Mace.

No!

The man fell facedown, blood pooling around him. A hole gaped in the back of his head.

Nearby, someone whimpered. Pain exploded inDevon's chest, her head. She couldn't see his face, didn't want to.

He had been laughing moments before, in the kitchen. Smiling at her. Then two men entered the kitchen. Who were they?

Dad?

No! No! They had guns.

An explosion rocked her. She flinched, tried to curl into herself Dad? Dad?

Someone whimpered again, louder this time, frighteningDevon.

She ran to him. Barefoot. In her nightgown. The floor was cool against her feet.

She stopped close to his body, knowing with horrified certainty that he was dead. Blood spilled around him; rivulets ran into the tile grout, startling against the white of the floor. His strong hand now lay limp in a spreading tide of blood.

The blood edged closer to her, stalking, closing in on her. Dad? Dad!

She could smell the blood now, hot and metallic. And darkly scarlet. Daddy?

Her stomach churned and she ran into the bathroom, escaping the blood, the horror. She burrowed into the corner, seeking safety. Huddled there like a lost child until she heard the soothing strains of her mother's voice, felt her mother's gentle hands stroking her hair, holding her tight.

It was another nightmare, a different nightmare.

No

She blinked, looking around. Brad and Barry were staring at her queerly. Carol reached toward her andDevonbacked away. This was no dream. Was it?

"Dad?" The sound was high-pitched and reedy. Was that her voice? Memories crashed back, flooding through her until she pulsed like a raw nerve. Followed by a nauseating realization.

Bile rose in her throat and agony stretched tight across her chest, cutting off her breath. Feeling suffocated,Devonbent at the waist and gasped for air. Her chest burned as though squeezed by a vise.

She hadn't dreamed it. The nightmare was real, too real, too horrible.

She'd witnessed the murder of her father.

Tears flowed unheeded down her cheeks, welling up from a store of pain she hadn't even known existed. "Dad! Dad!"

She saw Carol's eyes darken with compassion, saw her friend reaching for her in comfort, butDevoncouldn't stop the screams. "Daddy!"

* * *

Her muscles ached like she'd been bounced in a cement mixer. Her mouth tasted like dirt and her head throbbed as though she'd binged for a week.

She didn't move other than to open her eyes and scan the small room. She recognized nothing except the fear.

How long had she slept? The generic ivory room smelled of antiseptic and looked blandly sterile. A pretty, framed floral print hung on the wall in front of her. A single closet stood next to a single door. An ivory curtain with a thin blue stripe hung at the tall, plate-glass window.

The fear waited, squeezing the breath out of her as she struggled to become alert. Where was she? What had happened? She'd been at Carol's helping the boys paint signs and

In a rush, the memory returned, andDevondragged in a sharp breath, drawing up her knees and burying her face in her arms. Even closing her eyes didn't erase the slow-motion mind pictures of her father being gunned down by two men.

"Devon?" The soft voice was unfamiliar, andDevonpeered up, squinting against a light that had suddenly become too bright.

A young, auburn-haired nurse leaned over, concern in her hazel eyes. "Devon?"

She blinked.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Dad?"Devon's gaze darted around the room, but there was only her and the nurse.

The nurse smiled reassuringly and strokedDevon's hair. "You're atMercyHospital."

"I saw them." Her voice rose; panic knocked at her.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay."

"They came into the house." Her voice turned shrill and she flinched. "They shot him."

"Do you know your address? The date?"

Devonsluggishly gave them. Mom! Where was Mom? Terror and fear lodged inDevon's chest and she struggled to breathe. One breath, then another, before she could think. Her mother was on a cruise. She was all right.

"Can we notify someone for you?"

Mace. She hesitated,then murmured, "No. No."

"Do you know where you are,Devon?"

Devonwas very much afraid that she did. "In the loony bin?"

"Well, at the hospital." The nurse gently took her hand, holding it firmly. "Do you know why?"

"I remembered." Her fragile control ruptured. Sobs burst free, scalding and bitter and pushing the air out of her chest.



Chapter 2

«^

You can do this. Just walk in there and tell the police you lied about your father's murder.

Three weeks later,Devonstood downtown outside the Oklahoma City Police Department and tried to calm her racing heart. Sweat slicked her palms and trickled between her breasts. An uncommon burst of cool air swept down the street, tunneling between the concrete-and-glass buildings on either side.

June heat rolled from the pavement. She wiped her damp palms down the front of her denim skirt. Fear and uncertainty hammered at her, causing a lump to swell in her throat.

She was putting a face on the horror of the past, doing her part to see justice done. Was that why her stomach knotted up like wet silk? Or was she on the edge of panic because she might run into Mace?

Maybe he was out. Maybe the case was closed. She wished both things and believed neither. Mace would never close the case, and while she was willing to give a statement about her father's murder, she wasn't ready to face her former fiancé.

Dr. Beasley had told her she might not be ready yet. If you need to simply stand outside the police station for a while, then do so. You go inside when you're ready.

In the last couple of weeks, she'd been seeing the psychiatrist. She had known her father was murdered, had grieved for him, but there was another level to that grief when she realized she had witnessed his murder. And for the first two weeks after the horrible recollection, she had dreamed about it nightly.

It had been almost a week since she'd last had the dream and a part of her feared that coming to the police station might reopen the wound that was only now starting to heal.

But she couldn't live with herself if she didn't report what she knew. More people than she would be affected. Her father had been a well-loved and well-respected member of this police department and this community. These peoplefriends, colleagues, fellow officersdeserved to have the information. And the men responsible deserved to pay for what they'd done.

Memories of the last time she'd been here hammered at her. That time, she'd come to see Mace. She prayed she wouldn't have to face him this time.

A chill tripped down her spine and she firmed her jaw. Panic fluttered and she took a deep breath as Dr. Beasley had instructed.Just go in, report it to the commanding officer in Homicide and leave.

She wanted to turn and run, tell Dr. Beasley she wasn't ready, but she was. That realization propelled her up the shallow steps of the station house. She pushed through the doors into the cool dim interior and into a place that most people associated with security, order amidst chaos.

Rather than reassuring,Devonfound the wealth of gray-shirted uniforms stifling. Panic flashed,then ebbed into a lingering sense of dread. People threaded around her, coming in, going out, walking toward the stairs to her right. The strong scent of commercial floor cleaner battled with the odors of stale cigar smoke and unwashed bodies.

She chewed at her lip, ignoring the slit-eyed stare of a handcuffed man being escorted past her. The deed wouldn't get done standing here. She stood several feet back from a tall counter with bullet-proof glass and a wood-grained plaque that read Information.

She forced her legs to move and foundherself speaking to the officer behind the desk.

He outfitted her with a laminated visitor's badge.

"Pardon, ma'am, but aren't you Billy Landry's girl?"

"Yes." She studied the barrel-chested, balding man, straining to remember if she had ever met him.

"Sergeant Swimmer." He smiled somewhat sheepishly and his pale blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "We've never met, but I recognized you from the picture he kept on his desk."

"Oh."Devonwished she felt at ease enough to exchange small talk, but even that single word lodged in her throat like a missile. Her fists clenched and she realized she was gritting her teeth. "It's nice to meet you."

He smiled, sympathy in his eyes, and came around the desk to direct her upstairs to Homicide. As if she didn't remember every agonizing step from her last visit.

"Second floor. Can't miss it. Ask for Captain Price."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Yes, ma'am."

Devonturned to the right, her steps measured as she forced herself to walk to the staircase that loomed before her. Dread fluttered in her stomach.

"Ms. Landry?"

She turned at Sergeant Swimmer's soft address. "Yes?"

"Your father was a fine man." His face reddened, but he didn't look away. "We miss him."

"Thank you."Devon's throat closed up and quick tears sprang to her eyes. "So doI ."

He nodded and turned away, affording her an opportunity to blink back her tears. This whole grueling experience was what Dr. Beasley called "closure," andDevonhoped it truly was.

As she climbed the stairs she tried not to think about the last time she'd climbed them or why. She'd found Mace and returned his ring.

Because of her parents' divorce and her father's overprotective nature,Devonhad grown up ignorant about a cop's life. When she and Mace had become engaged, she'd told herself that she could live with the reality of being a policeman's wife, that she was stronger than her mother. But she hadn't been.

She shied away from the memories, feeling squeezed between the jaws of the past and the present.

She stopped at the top of the stairs near the squad room, which ran the length of the linoleum-tiled hallway. Through the door she could see desks, squared off against each other like double rows of dominoes. In one corner stood a planter holding a lone bare branch that bent under the slight weight of a plastic vulture.

The division secretary's office was also in there, as well as a small file room and the rest room thatDevonwould forever carry in her memory. Dim overhead lights flickered and the air conditioner groaned with the strain ofcombatting the brutal midsummer heat.

Directly across the hall, she spotted the door that read Captain Maggie Price.

Devonhesitantly stepped up to the door. An authoritative and decidedly feminine voice sounded on the other side of the open door. "I don't care what you have to do, but I want it done."

Devontook a deep breath, and even though she wanted to walk away, she peered around the door. As Captain Price continued her phone conversation,Devonstudied the small office, which was as practical as the woman who inhabited it.

Three file cabinets lined one wall and a computer bummed on top of a desk cluttered with files and folders. The only personal items were a framed photograph of Captain Price and her husband in a canoe on a sparkling river and a small aquarium filled with several vividly colored fish.

Maggie Price stood about five foot six, a slender woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair. Her blue pinstriped suit made her look at once professional and frail. But that frailness was belied by her dark eyes, which shone with confidence and strength. The woman was fearless inDevon's estimation and she couldn't help a small stab of jealousy.

Looking impatient and exhaling loudly, Captain Price motionedDevoninside. As she entered, Mace's captain barked into the phone, "Gotta go, Phil. Visitor."

She hung up and moved gracefully around the desk, holding out a hand. "Devon, how are you?"

"Okay, thanks." Maggie Price had been involved with the investigation into her father's death last year. She herself had questionedDevonand her mother extensively about their presence in the house.

Had they heard the intruders? Had they heard the shots? Had they seen anything?Devonand Marilee had answered no to all the questions, andDevonhad believed at the time that she was telling the truth.

Now she was here to tell Captain Price that she'd lied. Not deliberately, but lied all the same.Devonhad heard about people seeing horrible things,then completely blanking them from their minds, but she'd never dreamed she would be one.

Would Captain Price believe her? She had to. To have recalled all the horror of that night and be dismissedDevonshuddered, refusing to contemplate it.

"Please have a seat." The other woman indicated a dark brown vinyl chair in front of her desk and eased down onto one corner of her desk. "How's your mother?"

"Very well, thank you."Devonperched on the edge of the chair and gripped her purse. "I finally convinced her to take a vacation. She just returned from a cruise and is visiting her sister inHouston."

"I bet she loved the cruise," Captain Price exclaimed, dark eyes glowing. "My husband and I were spoiled for any other type of vacation after our first one."

Devonswallowed and forced a lame smile. Anxiety plucked her nerves and her throat was as tight as if she'd been hauled in on charges rather than coming on her own free will.

"You didn't come here to talk about vacations," Captain Price said gently. "What can I do for you?"

"I think I might have some information."

"About what?" she asked with a kind smile.

"About my father's murder."

The policewoman straightened, her gaze sharpening.Devonknew no easy way to say it so she blurted, "I saw the men who did it."

The other woman's smile faded to a concerned frown. "This comes as quite a surprise."

"Yes, I know. But it's true."

For a long moment, Captain Price stared at her. The air conditioner groaned with a grating, nasal sound. "But you said that you heard nothing, saw nothing. So did your mother."

"Mom was telling the truth."

"Youlied?"

"Not deliberately."

"I don't understand." Suspicion edged the captain's words.

"I wasn't lyingnot intentionally, anyway."

Captain Price shook her head. "Devon"

"It sounds like I'm crazy," she rushed on. "Believe me, I know. But I saw two men that night. And I can identify them."

Maggie Price contemplatedDevonfor several long seconds. "Go on."

Feeling suffocated,Devonshifted in the chair, then surged to her feet and moved behind the chair as if it were a shield. "I saw the whole thing, but I blocked it out. Repressed it. That's what my psychiatrist said. I have a report" She reached for her purse and removed two folded sheets of paper. "I'm sure you'd like to see it."

"Yes, I would."

She passed the papers to the other woman and clutched the back of the chair to steady her shaking legs.

After a few moments, Captain Price looked up. "I'm sorry,Devon. It looks like you've had a rough go of it."

She swallowed, getting a grip on her rioting emotionsdread, uncertainty. Her heartbeat wheeled crazily and her chest felt tight, as if it would burst. "Strangely, this seems to be as hard as anything."

"Yes, I imagine," the other woman murmured, her eyes full of compassion.

"Thank you." She fingered the side of her neck,then wrapped her arms around her waist. "Could we get started?"

Captain Price nodded. "I'll need to keep a copy of this report for the file."

Devonnodded back.

The other woman's brown gaze measured her. "If you'll wait here, I'll get Detective Garrett. He'll be the one to take your statement."

"I thoughtcouldn't you"She squared her shoulders. "Couldn't someone else take it?"

"We need to follow procedure,Devon. Especially on this case. Your statement is the responsibility of the officer in charge of the investigation and that officer is"

"Mace,"Devonfinished, sinking into the chair before her legs folded under her.

A mix of dread and anticipation assaulted her. She had hoped to completely avoid him, but it looked as if she would face all the demons from her past today.

She'd known instinctively, despite her foolish wish to the contrary, that the case would still be open and Mace would be in charge. But she hadn't wanted to consider that she would probably see him. She had simply wanted to come in, tell Captain Price she could identify the men who had murdered her father.

"Devon, are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Her voice wobbled only slightly, but her insides felt as if they'd been churned by a blender.

Captain Price eyed her carefully. "I'll be right back. We'll make this as quick and painless as possible."

"Thanks." She forced a smile. Mace's captain probably thought she was a basket case. And faced with the thought of seeing Mace, she was.

She had finally reached the point where she could admit seeing Dad's murder. Dr. Beasley said she was in the recovery stage of grief because she had begun to consider ways to take action about what she'd remembered.

Part of that included reporting her account to the police and identifying the men she'd seen execute her father in their kitchen.

But it didn't include seeing Mace, andDevonwondered if she could deal with that.

* * *

Mace slammed the door on Interview Room 3 and massaged the corded muscles in his neck. MaybeO'Kelly would have better luck convincing the hooker inside to roll over on her pimp. Mace knew she'd seen the murder, knew her pimp hadoffed the guy. But they needed her say-so.

Tension knotted his muscles and he leaned back against the grungy beige wall, closing his eyes for a second. He imagined drifting in his boat onArbuckleLake, reeling in a fat, sassy crappie, soaking up some sun. It was definitely a weekend for AuntMicki's cabin.

"Garrett? Got something for you."

He grimaced and opened one eye to find his captain staring at him with a strange combination of uncertainty and apprehension. "What's up, Cap? You find Jimmy Hoffa?"

Mace chuckled at his own joke, but Captain Price's eyes never changed from a flat, worried brown. Mace had worked with her for several years now. Maggie Price was cool, efficient and sharp. Like the other guys in his division, Mace had been less than willing to give her a chance when she was promoted to Homicide.

But he'd grudgingly come to first respect, then like her. She wasn't an alarmist or given to drama like some other women he'd worked with, which made the concern clouding her brown eyes even more disturbing.

That spot between his shoulder blades suddenly prickled and he straightened, pushing away from the wall.

Captain Price shoved her hands into the pockets of her navy jacket and cocked her head toward the opposite wall, indicating for Mace to join her there.

Frowning, he followed. Whatever the news, it was bad. His folks? His brothers?

Price shook her head and her frown deepened.

Concern carved a hole in Mace's gut. "Give it up, Cap. I'm startin' to worry."

"I need you to take a statement."

Mace frowned. Was that it? He tunneled a hand through his hair. "Jeez, I thought you'd seen a ghost. Which case? Wadley? Broughton?"

Price's gaze sliced to him. "I just talked to someone who claims to have witnessed Bill Landry's murder."

"A witness? For Bill!" He let out a bark of skeptical laughter. "We can't have a witness. There was no one there. Except Marilee andDevon, and they were asleep upstairs."

"We've got a witness. And that witness was in the house."

Price's slam-dunk tone lashed new tension across Mace's shoulders. In spite of needing to finish this case, put a lid on the past, he suddenly feared what he was about to hear.

"How can that be, Cap? We didn't find prints or anything to indicate there was anyone there besides Marilee andDevon."

"That's right."

A raw current of pain zapped him. His voice was hoarse with dread. "Which one is it?"

Price's shrewd brown eyes softened. "It'sDevon, Mace."

"Damn." He stared at his captain for a full minute, his gut clenching as if he'd beensledgehammered . Then he spun to face the other wall."Damndamndamn."

* * *

Had he forgiven her yet?

She'd never forgive herself for hurting him the way she had, but she had done the right thing. The horror and agony she'd endured in the last three weeks was more proof than she'd ever needed. If they'd stayed together, he would've come to resent her for her paranoia of the last year, and if he hadn't resented her by then, the last few weeks would've changed that.

Devonwaited for Mace in a boxy, windowless, airless room, dread ticking against her nerves as she tried to sidestep the memories of her last visit here.

She held the pain, the anguish,the pleas at bay by focusing on the bland room, the basic, no-frills furniture. The putty beige color of the walls was in direct contrast to the violent reds and blacks and blues of her rioting emotions. Would he believe her? Could she get through another retelling of that horrible night without completely falling apart?

Two metal chairs were shoved haphazardly up to a nondescript rectangular table in the center of the room. Another chair sat in the far corner, and a folding one rested behind the door. On the wall next to the door was a smaller table holding foam cups, a coffeemaker, creamer and pink packets of sweetener.

Sugar crystals sparkled in the dim light, and a crushed cigarette butt lay under the table. Hints of cologne and dirt and smoke hovered in the still air. The grungy, veined linoleum floor was dull and cracked.

Though the room was a comfortable temperature, a chill scuttled over her and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Behind her the door opened, then clicked shut.

Her head came up and her shoulders tightened.Mace .

The room grew smaller, tight. Tension hummed. She pressed her lips together and turned to face him,

Her gaze crashed into his, midnight blue, direct and grim with memories of the past. He looked casual and hard-edged. A navy-and-green-striped rugby shirt stretched taut across his deep, muscular chest. Her gaze skimmed over the lean flex of his biceps, the corded forearms dusted with dark hair. Faded Levi's, worn white at the seams and pockets, hugged long, powerful legs and the frayed hems skimmed the tops of his silver, ostrich boots.

A deep, secret part of her softened at the sight of him. She hadn't forgotten what a physically beautiful man Mace Garrett was, but when she thought of himand she had over the past yearit was of the whole man, not just the window dressing. When she thought of those full, sculpted lips, she recalled his lazy smile and the heated glide of them against hers.

When she thought of his mesmerizing blue eyes she thought of them flecked with gold and hot with desire for her. And every thought was colored with the wistful memory of his gentle strength and how he'd cradled her against that strong chest after Dad's death.

His seal-dark hair was longer now, curling just below his ears and reachingmidnape . The normal laugh lines in his face were now creases in an unreadable mask.

For long seconds, neither spoke.

His gaze slid over her with the same thoroughness she'd employed, but she could determine nothing of his impressions. She swallowed, her heartbeat kicking into a high rhythm.

It was he who finally broke the silence. "I'll try to make this as brief as possible."

"Whatwhere should I be?" She glanced around uncertainly. "What would you like me to do?"

Pain flickered in his eyes,then disappeared as he indicated the chair at the table. "Just have a seat and we'll get started."

He stayed by the door, a polite,nonthreatening distance away, with his legs braced apart as though he held his ground in preparation for a struggle.

She stepped toward the table and asked softly, "How are you?"

His features hardened.

Inwardly she winced at the wistfulness in her voice and wished she hadn't asked. She placed her purse on the table and looked up at him, waiting.

Longing flitted across his features,then his lips flattened. "Let's just stick to the business at hand, all right?"

At his brisk, impersonal manner, pain lanced her. She wanted to ask about his parents, his brothers, his aunt, but instead she nodded and sat down. She folded her hands in her lap, gripping her fingers tightly.

He stepped toward her,then leaned back against the table along the wall. Reaching into the back pocket of his Levi's for a small notebook, he flipped it open and glanced at her. "Now, why don't you tell me what you saw?"

Leashed anger and skepticism underlined his words. She couldn't expect him to welcome her with open arms. Not after what had happened between them. But she did expect him to believe her, despite her own wish that what she was about to tell him was a lie.

She closed her eyes for a second, composing herself, tamping down the regret and defensiveness that was already seething due to seeing Mace. "I was staying with my parents. I have my own house, but I was getting married. The next day."

"Your parents had recently reconciled?"

"Yes."Devonknew his question was strictlyroutine . Mace had known that her mom and dad were trying their relationship again. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see if the agony on his face was the same that ripped her insides as she relayed details he already knew, details he'd lived with her. "That night I couldn't sleep. I was excited about ourmy wedding."

Did she imagine that he flinched? He continued to write without looking at her, although she saw a muscle jump in his neck. "I went downstairs for a snack. And to finish some laundry. Dad was already in the kitchen. He said he couldn't sleep. He fixed us each a sandwich, but never touched his. He kept looking at the clock and going to the window. I knew something was bothering him, but I didn't ask what."

"Why not?" Mace's voice grated harshly in the small room.

"He wouldn't have told me. He never did."

Mace nodded in wry agreement.

"I ate a piece of Mom's chocolate pie,then he asked if I remembered the time we all went toYellowstone. When I was eleven."

A chill unfurled along her spine. She crossed her arms and pulled them against her body, huddling into herself as if the action could ward off the cold and loss she knew was coming. "Anyway, we were laughing and talking about the trip, but I could tell he was preoccupied."Devonstopped, smiling fondly even as she blinked back tears. "I teased him about always bringing home his work."

She glanced into the corner of the room, searching for a neutral focal point as Dr. Beasley had coached her. "It was aftermidnight. I'm not sure of the exact time, but I went into the laundry room. I thought Dad was cleaning up the sandwich mess. II opened the dryer"

Her voice sounded thin and far away. She squeezed her eyes shut, chills scraping over her. The memory crystallized and she saw her father facedown in a pool of blood, with two men standing over him.

Tears burned her cheeks and she swiped at them, rocking herself. She took a deep breath, trying in vain to steady her wobbling voice. "He saidDaddy said 'What the hell'" Her voice broke and she hugged herself tighter. Mace hadn't moved from his place against the table, but she could feel the tension lash his body. He leaned toward her, gripping the edge of the table.

"I was standing behind the doorsoh,the kitchen is separated by" Her thoughts clouded and she sniffed, trying to stem the tears that threatened to become uncontrollable. "The laundry room is separate from the kitchen, but"

"Accordion doors with slats? So you can see out but not in?"

"Yes." He'd been inside the house many times and knew the answer, but she suspected he was trying to help her regain some composure.

She dragged in a deep breath, rocking, seeking comfort from the agony that peeled her nerves. "I looked around the door and saw them. Two men. One was short. Shorter than me. And the other was about five foot ten, medium build,long thin hair. Brown, in a ponytail. Balding on top."

She wiped at her wet cheeks. Her teeth chattered as if she stood naked in a bitingOklahomawind. "So I moved away. Looked through the slats. I didn't know what they wanted. No oneno one like that ever came to the house." She paused for a breath, her chest tight as she fought for another breath. Her temples pounded, and she massaged her left one. "They weren't cops. I knew that."

A breath shuddered out of her and a sob escaped. She took deep breaths the way Dr. Beasley had taught her. She rubbed her arms, invaded by a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature.

"Devon?" Mace's voice ached and intensified her own pain.

He stepped toward her, causing her to place a protective hand on her chest. She wanted his touch, his strength and yet if he touched her, she would fall apart. "I'm okay. I just needa minute."

He eased closerstealthily, as if afraid she might bolt. "Can I do something? Get you something? Water? Coffee?"

"No. No." She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stop her lips from trembling, trying to keep her horror manageable.Allow only a little memory at a time. You're in control. Move on only when you're ready.

She'd recounted this story aloud for her doctor more than once, and silently more times than she could count. Why was she having such trouble telling Mace?

The realization unfolded on a wing of sadness. Because he was a part, not just of her, but also of her father. And he had shared a relationship with her father that she hadn't been privy tothat of a colleague, a man who faced the same kind of danger in his job.

"Devon?" He stood in front of her now, close enough so she could see a pen mark on his faded jeans, smell the spicy warmth of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his body.

Surprisingly, his presence calmed her, and she took another deep breath. "I'm okay. I just need to finish. I heard Dad and I looked out The taller one had a mole." She touched the left side of her face where the upper corner of her cheek joined her eye socket. "Here. And he wore gloves. And a silencer. There was a silencer on his gun.

"Theyboth had guns and made Dadmade him" In an effort to purge the poisonous memory, she tried to rush the words. Tears flowed unheeded down her face now and she choked out a sob. "It was horrible. They made himget on his knees. They stood behind him."

She rocked back and forth, focusing on the sound of creaking chair vinyl as if it were her only tie to sanity. She kept her eyes closed, trying to escape some part of the pain, not able to watch the agony in Mace's eyes as she replayed the murder of his friend.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, sobbing now, wishing for her mother or for Mace's strong arms around her. "And they shot him in the head. Twice."

She buried her face in her hands and felt a strong, solid palm squeeze her knee. After a few seconds, she drew a deep breath, feeling more composed. Mace's hand moved away, but his heat lingered through the thin denim of her skirt.

He pushed a tissue into her hand and she wiped her eyes. "Thanks," she said shakily. She could barely meet his gaze, afraid he would see how much she wanted to be held and comforted.

Only then did she become aware that he knelt in front of her, his chest at her eye level, his strong arms at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as though he wanted to reach for her.

She ached for him to hold her, but she couldn't allow that. He was an investigating officer on her father's murder, and because of that murder and their past, she should be nothing more than a witness to him. She was nothing more than that.

He squeezed her knee again briefly, as though he couldn't help himself. His voice was gravelly, rusty with tears. "Take as much time as you need."

She glanced up to find his blue eyes bright with pain and she ached at putting him through the torture of hearing about his friend. "I'm sorry, Mace."

"I pieced together how it must have happened, Dev. It's just hard to hear, you know?"

She nodded, her heart catching at the shortened version of her name that he'd always used.

His gaze locked on her, and for an instant she saw sadness and compassion and naked pain. Then he became Mace the cop. "Is there any other description about the men you can give?"

She thought for a minute. "I think that's all."

"Did you hear them say anything? Did they call each other by name?"

"No." She closed her eyes, replaying the muffled pop of the gunshot, the squeak of shoe leather on the tile floor. "No, I didn't hear anything."

"How about the sound of their car, when they left?"

"No." She realized that this was the first time they'd ever discussed police business or anything related to it. Resentment flared that the conversation concerned her father's death.

Her father had always kept the details of his job separate andsecret from her. Just as Mace always had. She preferred it that way. Determined not to acknowledge the fear that had driven her mother to divorce her dad,Devonhad instead chosen to ignore Mace's job completely. And he'd never forced the issue.

Mace rose, his knees creaking as he walked over to pick up the notebook he'd left on the table. "I think I got it. Brenda will type it up for you to read before you leave."

She nodded and took another deep breath, this one cleansing. At first she'd seen the doubt and wariness in his eyes, but as she talked, that had changed to belief and trustthings she'd never thought to see in his eyes again.

She wanted to thank him for that, but what was the point? He was probably just doing his job. As she'd been doing what she had to do in order to put the past behind her.

Giving her statement in addition to seeing Mace overwhelmed her, and though she suddenly felt weak with fatigue, for the first time in over a year she felt as if she were taking control of her life. There had been no Dr. Beasley. No Mom. JustDevonherself.

But that didn't mean she could handle being in such close quarters with Mace. Now that she was more composed, she was able to sort out feelings that before had been lost in a jumbled mass of agony and horror.

Some of her anxiety could be attributed to relating the events of her father's murder, but not this ache in her body, not this emptiness in her heartnor this urge to throw herself into Mace's arms.

Thankfully, after she finished here today, she wouldn't have to be in such proximity with Mace again. Her heart clamored for him while her nerves screamed for distance. Just after this short period, she felt hemmed in, trapped. And was starting to wonder what had possessed her to ever walk away from this man.

"Think you're up to looking at some pictures?"

"Yes, I want to put the whole thing behind me. Forget everything that happened last year."

"Yeah," he said tightly. "That would be good." She saw the brief flare of pain in his eyes and realized she'd chosen her words badly. But she didn't correct herself. There was no sense in opening more old wounds. She didn't know about Mace, but she was close to the breaking point.



Chapter 3

«^

Pain welled up like blood from a fresh cut, spilling over into Mace's reason, his logic. He seatedDevonin the squad room and ignored the surprised look of Brenda Martin, the division secretary, and the dark inscrutable eyes of Captain Price.

Shock rocked through Mace as well. Overwhelmed him, actually. He hadn't known what to think when he'd first heardDevon's story. He'd doubted her; he couldn't deny it. After all this time? After all the digging he and the other guys had done? He didn't understand how she could witness a murder and forget it. But he believed her.

He'd gone into that interview room trying to steelhimself as best he could, which had been a total waste of time. HearingDevonrelate Bill's anxiety of that night had intensified Mace's guilt. Bill had been waiting for him, and he should've been there. Mace's chest hurt as if the air were slowly being squeezed out of his lungs.

In addition, seeingDevonhad unleashed a surge of desire and protectiveness and anger. Did she know, like he did, that it had been thirteen months, a week and three days since their breakup? Since she'd returned his ring? Since she'd closed the door on their future? Nipped it in the bud, he thought bitterly.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her vivacious features pinched with anxiety, the bleakness of her silver-green eyes. Her black wavy hair was shorter, a shiny cap of bouncy curls that barely reached her shoulders. He'd never thought he liked short hair.

Why was she alone? Where was Marilee? Or that precious boyfriend? On the heels of irritated concern came a raw spike of anger Mace couldn't squelch. She never should've pushed him away. She shouldn't be dealing with this by herself.

Oh, he knew about Josh Van Horn, but the guy was a nonentity in his book. A bean counter, for crying out loud! What kind of experience did an accountant have to deal with this kind of trauma?

Of course, Mace had experience with it and that hadn't counted for a damn last year. He hadn't been able to helpDevon, either.

He tried to focus on the business at hand, but her voice brought back memoriesof her laughter, of his name spilling from her lips in a ragged pant of passion. He wanted to kiss her until she begged him to come back; he wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.

They sat at a small rectangular table; spread in front of her were manila file folders holding pictures of suspects. His insides felt like shredded hamburger. If anything, she was more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her. At the time of their breakup, she had been reed thin and gaunt; now her slender curves had filled out again.

Full breasts rose and fell under a plain white T-shirt that she wore with a brightly patterned vest and denim skirt. Her magnolia-smooth skin carried a tint of golden brown; her eyes glowed except for the anxiety that clouded them.

Dark brows arched over wide, expressive eyes fringed with sooty lashes, and her bow-perfect lips were moist and raspberry red. He didn't wish for her to look bad, but did she have to look so damn good?

He sat beside her, putting a respectable distance between them. But it wasn't far enough to mask the soft scent of honeysuckle shampoo and soap that wafted from her.

Not far enough to staunch the memories. To subdue the heat stirring through his body. Or the protectiveness that made him want to pull her close and hold on while she went through the process of identifying the men who she claimed had killed her father.

He couldn't believe she was here. Couldn't believe he was sitting next to her. Couldn't believe she was giving a statement for a murder that had happened over seventeen months ago.

Devon, why couldn't you have come to me with this? Did things end so badly between us that you couldn't turn to me?

Torn with disbelief and anger and pain, he wondered if he could do his job, even minimally. Screw objectivity. That was already shot to hell. But would he be able to ask the questions he needed to ask, knowing what torture it would be for her?

He had to. He owed Bill Landry nothing less, owed Marilee andDevonnothing less, but how could he concentrate on what he needed to know whenDevonwas so close beside him, where he'd thought never to have her again? Never mind that it was strictly for a murder investigation. He couldn't seem to get past the fact that she wasn't here for him, for them.

He wanted to hit something, yell at her for pushing him away and having to go through this alone.Which would solve exactly zero.

He tried to rein in his burgeoning anger; even so, his voice was harsh and abrupt. "I'll need to ask you some questions. Can we do that while you look?"

"Yes. Of course." She glanced at him, but didn't meet his gaze. Sweat misted her face and he noted that her hands trembled.

He clenched his own fists against reaching for her.Do your job. Keep a distance . "You said you went into the laundry room?"

"Yes." She scanned the top folder and her face seemed to pale even more.

His stomach knotted. "Now, this room is just off the kitchen. In your earlier statement, you said you were upstairs asleep."

"That's what I remembered. Or actually, it was all I could figure out." Her gaze touched his briefly. "I couldn't remember where I was exactly, and now I know it's because I blocked out the whole incident."

"So now you're saying you were downstairs, in the laundry room, where you had a clear view?"

"Iwas there," she said quietly, meeting his eyes fully for the first time.

He felt himself flush, but didn't look away. He knew it sounded as if he didn't believe her, but hell, it was almost too incredible. He himself had been at the scene only minutes after the murder and had questioned her and Marilee. Over and over and over.

Repeatedly they had given the same answers. Never wavering. Never hesitating. According to Marilee, a slamming doorthe intruders leavinghad awakened her.Devonhad reached Bill first, and Marilee said that shock had sent her daughter fleeing into the small downstairs bathroom. Marilee had foundDevonhuddled in the corner, shaking uncontrollably.

And now Mace was supposed to accept that he had an eyewitness. Not just anybody butDevon. Bill's daughter. Mace's fiancé.Ex-fiancé , he thought, catching himself. Hell, yes, he was having a hard time with it.

He'd heard of repression, but had chalked it up to a bunch of psychobabble. If it had been anybody besidesDevon, he probably would've dismissed the claim.

But try as he might, Mace couldn't ignore the effect this whole experience was having on her, which made him want to protect her. Well, she didn't want or need his protection. She'd made that perfectly clear last year.

With an effort, he gentled his voice. "You heard the men in the kitchen, then what?"

"Then the shots. Two."

"And then?"

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a second. "I heard Daddy hit the floor. Then I heard footsteps, leaving. Then nothing."

"What did you do?" His chest felt tight and constricted. He could've turned this over toO'Kelly or anybody else in the squad room, but despite the history between him andDevon, he felt compelled to handle it himself. He must like pain, he decided wryly.

She shook her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What did you do after they left?" he repeated impatiently. "Go upstairs? Stay in the laundry room? What?"

Her hand gripped the page she was studying. Sweat slicked her face, turned her complexion the color of paste and made her lips and eyes vivid spots of color. He saw her shrink into herself, but then she stiffened her spine.

"I I came out and looked at him. I couldn't believe he was dead. I walked over to himI couldn't touch him." She took a deep breath and her voice thickened. "I couldn't. There was so much blood. Everywhere. It was all over Mom's white tile, all over the cabinetthe floor."

She steeled her jaw, her features stoic. "I think I don't know I ran. I remember blood. It was spilling out, all over the floor and moving toward me. Almost on my feet." A breath shuddered out of her; a tear fell and she wiped it away. "I couldn't look at it anymore. The next thing I remember, Mom was holding me in the bathroom."

"The bathroom that's off the kitchen?" Mace knew perfectly well where it was, but she needed time and so did he.

Hearing her relay this part of the story twisted something deep inside him and raked across nerves he'd thought long dead to this kind of pain. She'd had to deal with this knowledge all alone. It was no wonder she'd had those nightmares about him dying in the same way. Did she still have them?

She nodded in answer to his question, sitting stiffly erect in the chair as if afraid that if she moved she'd fall apart. He knew the feeling.

Again he wished things had been different between them, that she could've at least come to him first instead of the department for help. He hated being only a cop on this case, hated that he had no right to expect her to treat him any differently. No right to hope she would.

"And then Mom and I called you."

He remembered. Remembered the sheer hysteria ofDevon's voice, the shocked horror in Marilee's. He'd already been on his way there from the bachelor party and had called for backup from his car. He'd nearly lost it when he'd seen Bill's body.

Guilt had wormed into him and hadn't eased up yet. If only he'd been on time, he might've prevented Bill's death. And despite his twelve years as a detective, he'd never felt so helpless as when he'd watched Marilee rocking Devon, both of them holding on to the other, neither of them comprehending a blessed thing that was happening.

Devonhad insisted on keeping Mace in view at all times, and he hadn't wanted to get any farther than that from her. Once he had finished with his prelim statement to Captain Price, he'd gone toDevon, holding her while she clung to him and sobbed.

Cops had combed the house, the grounds, looking for bullet holes, shell casings, footprints, anything. They'd found two shell casings and nothing else. Both Marilee andDevonhad sworn they'd heard nothing, seen no one. Mace had believed them, as had everyone else. He realized now thatDevonhad believed it because it had been too much for her mind to handle. Could she handle it now?

His heart had wrenched for her then. And as he sat here with her, the pain returned, jabbing, slicing even deeper.Dev, I want to help you .

Even as he thought it, she wiped away her tears, took a calming breath. She didn't need him. She had composed herself and now sat in that damn chair as if they'd never shared more than a hello and an interview room. As if they'd never held each other in passion, come together with such powerful need that they both lost themselves.

Anger swept over him. "I'll need you to make a written statement and sign it."

"All right." Her voice was thin with fatigue as she brushed her hair away from her face. She glanced down at the pictures she held, several of men with moles on their left cheek. "I don't see either of them in here."

Mace showed her another manila folder with cutouts that served as frames for the Polaroid shots he'd gathered of possible suspects. He wished for a split second that she wouldn't find the men she searched for so this could end for both of them. But he knew it wouldn't end. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Here." Her voice shook. "This is one of them."

Mace looked at the photograph of a lean-faced man with a preppy haircut and an acne-scarred face. "Terry Carroll," hemurmured, his pulse leaping.

The guy was a known hit man forthe mob , in particular for Joseph "Jewel"Martressa , though no charges had ever been made to stick. Mace pulled the book closer, trying to ignore the brush of heat along his nerves when his hand skimmed hers. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

Her voice was too bleak, too resigned for him to doubt her. And she hadn't hesitated, which would please the district attorney.

Mace slid out the picture and pushed it to the side. "Keep going, if you're up to it."

She nodded, her shoulders sagging in resigned determination.

Sympathy tugged at him, and Mace found himself silently urging her on, encouraging without words. He leaned closer, offering himself as support even though she hadn't asked or even indicated she wanted that from him.

After scanning two folders, she stopped again. "There." He followed the direction of her trembling finger and his eyes widened. "Gordon Dale Jens,aka Diamond Dale. Well, well. We've been after this guy for a long time. Your statement might be the key to taking him out, along withMartressa . Your dad"

Pain streaked through her eyes and Mace stopped, cursing. His gut knotted with pain. "Devon, you okay?"

"Yes."

"I didn't mean to"

"It's all right. I know you have to talk about it."

Her eyes were again bright with tears and he ached. Couldn't he hold her just for a minute instead of sitting here like an impartial observer, a generic representative of law and order? They could draw strength from each other. What was wrong with him? He reined in the reckless, unexpected impulse.

"Do you think this information will help you?" She settled back in her chair, massaging her slender neck.

"Yes."

"And it will go to trial?"

If I have anything to say about it. "Yes."

She nodded, swallowing hard before meeting his gaze. "I'll testify."

He hadn't planned to broach the subject yet. Now that she had, he wasn't sure she could handle the pressure. Could she emotionally endure a trial, especially as a witness? He believed her statement, but he'd been shaken by how upset she was. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I think so. Dr. Beasley thinks I should. And it's what Dad would've wanted."

To hell with that, Mace wanted to say. What about you? Can you do it? If she did testify, it wouldn't be merely difficult or even unpleasant. It would be sheer hell.

Because if Macecould nailMartressa withDevon's testimony, the trial would be long and brutal.Martressa would call out his big-gun lawyers, and in terms of inflicting pain and torture, those guys made pro football players look like sissies.

She watched him for a moment,then smiled tightly. "You don't think I can."

He was uncertain, but how could he tell her that? He sensed that testifying was crucial to her, although he hoped she was damn sure about following through. "I think you can do whatever you say you're going to."

Pleasure flared in her eyes before she glanced away, folding her hands together. "Is that all you need from me?"

"For now, yes."

Tension strained the air between them, knotted with distance and aloofness, and Mace gritted his teeth even though he knew this was best.

"I feel better." She kept her gaze trained on the utilitarian gray wall across the room. "For telling you, I mean."

"You sound surprised." Fresh pain jabbed at him with her newly erected defenses, but he kept his voice carefully neutral.

"I suppose I am." She shrugged and gave a small sigh. "I guess it's because I'm finally doing something to put away the past."

A past that included him. "I'll be in touch about what we find out," he said curtly.

"All right."

They rose and walked through the squad room. She moved gracefully in front of him, her shoulders stiff, her gaze trained carefully ahead. He wanted to rail at her for leaving him, but why dredge it up now? They were both moving on.

Mace halted at the squad-room door and let her walk into the hallway alone. "Thanks for coming in. I know it couldn't have been easy."

The words sounded practiced, as if he'd said them dozens of times. Which he had.

Sheturned, a strange combination of hunger and wariness in her silver eyes. "I'm glad you were here."

I could've been there for you the whole time, baby. At the thought, his jaw locked and he only nodded at her.

The air grew tight with memories of the past and regret for what would never be. His chest burned, as if the breath were being slowly squeezed out of him.

Uncertainty flitted across her features, and she looked as if she might say something else. Instead, she gave a weak smile, hurrying to the top of the stairs as though escaping a trap. Was that what he'd become to her? A trap into a life she feared?

A door creaked open andO'Kelly stepped out in front ofDevon, bumping her elbow. Mace's partner reached out to steady her. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Pardon me." She kept her chin tucked into her chest and rushed past him, bolting down the stairs as if she couldn't wait to get away from Mace.

O'Kellyrecognized her then and his jaw dropped. "What the hell!"

Mace's gaze followed her down the stairs until she disappeared.

His partner trotted down a couple of steps and stared, as if to assure himself he'd indeed seen who he thought he had.

Mace exhaled deeply and sagged against the door frame, feeling as if he'd been pistol-whipped.

"What's going on?"O'Kelly moved back up the stairs to stand beside him.

"Got a witness on the Landry case."

"A witness?" He snorted exactly as Mace had earlier. "Since when?"

"Since about two hours ago."

"Are you telling me?" Disbelief firedO'Kelly's green eyes. "Devon?"

Mace nodded, wishing he could dodge the rage and bitterness churning inside him. He'd wished for her to come back into his life, but not like this.

"She saw the whole thing."

Mace gaveO'Kelly a quick rundown ofDevon's statement.

"Oh, man."O'Kelly grimaced and released a slow breath. "You believe her?"

"I didn't." Mace met his partner's probing gaze. "I do, now."

O'Kellypicked up on the worry in Mace's voice. "But?"

"I'm not so sure she can handle what she knows."

The other man glanced thoughtfully toward the stairs. "She gonna testify?"

"She says she is."

At the doubt in Mace's voice,O'Kelly lifted a brow.

"I don't know if she's up for it," Mace said. "So let's go talk to her shrink and find out."

* * *

Why didn't you come to me,Devon? Why?

She didn't need him. That was why. She was doing fine on her own.

He shouldn't have cared, but he did. That realization did nothing to dim the hurt, the disappointment. It did nothing to erase the question that lurked behind those he had to ask Dr. Hector Beasley half an hour later.

"Detective Garrett, I'm sure you'll respect the privilege of doctor-patient confidentiality," the doctor said.

Mace andO'Kelly stood in the tastefully furnished third-floor offices of the psychiatrist who was treatingDevon. The slender, mid-forties doctor smiled easily at Mace, who choked back his impatience.

He was asking the questions he needed to, but not the one that really tortured him. Why hadn't she come to him? Why?

Oh, he knew what she would sayit was because she'd broken their engagementbut he didn't buy that. He had a stake in Bill's case, because of their friendship and he used to have a stake inDevon's future, he thought bitterly before reining in his irritation.

"I'm not trying to nail you to the wall, Doctor. I just want your honest opinion ofDevon's, er, Ms. Landry's mental competency." Mace hated those words, but he'd seen her thin hold on control, her struggle to even complete giving the statement. "Can't you offer an opinion?"

"Detective Garrett, she repressed a memory. She's not crazy."

"I don't think she is crazy, but can her recollection of events be considered dependable?"

The doctor's eyes darkened perceptibly. "I would say her recollections will be more detailed than anyone should have to suffer. Yes, they'll be dependable."

Mace's gut twisted at the blunt observation. "I'm worried that testifying could"

"Send her over the edge?" The doctor finished what Mace feared to voice.

He shrugged, uneasy with Beasley's ability to pick up on his thoughts.

"There is that possibility." Dr. Beasley eased into his chair and removed his glasses. "ButDevon's a strong lady. Her visit to you is a good sign, especially strong at this point of her therapy."

"That doesn't tell me how she'll hold up in trial." Mace tried to rein in his quickly wearing patience. This guy was doing nothing to allay Mace's fears aboutDevonand her well-being. "If she testifies, it'll get ugly. Brutal."

"I can't tell you how she'll do during a trial," the doctor said gently. "No one can, not evenDevon. But it's something she has to do and she should be allowed to try."

"Even if it destroys her in the process?" Mace asked sharply. After seeing her reaction while giving her statement, he knew there had to be some security in blocking out the memory; there was certainly less fear.

Speculation fired Dr. Beasley's dark brown eyes. "What's your opinion of Ms. Landry, Detective Garrett?"

The question surprised Mace and he frowned. Beasley gestured expansively. "You sound as if you're more than one-time acquaintances."

Mace had calledDevonby her first name and realized that must have been how the doctor had correctly deduced a deeper relationship than the typical police officer to civilian. He said guardedly, "I know her."

"Then you know she's a very determined woman. She wants to face this thing, despite the hell she's been through. I believe she can only get stronger."

"And what if you're wrong?" Mace hated that the doctor was so calm, while his own protective instincts were screaming at him. His words were fierce enough to elicit raised eyebrows fromO'Kelly . "Who'll be there to pick up the pieces, take care of her?"

"I think she's picking up her own pieces, Detective."

Damn, but shrinks annoyed him. Almost as much as bean counters. Did Mace fearDevoncouldn't handle the trial? Or that she could?

Because if she could, then she would well and truly be able to put him and their relationship in the past.

Several hours later, he toed off his boots and sprawled out on his couch with a long-neck. He lay on the same worn beige couch he'd had a year ago. He lived in the same sparsely furnished, plain apartment he had then.

The blueprints for the house he had planned to build for him andDevonwere stuffed to the back of a shelf in the dusty bookcase. He'd considered getting a place next to AuntMicki's cabin at the lake, but he hadn't done anything about it yet.

Maybe now was the time.Devoncertainly seemed to be moving on.

I think she's picking up her own pieces, Detective.

Dr. Beasley's parting words spun through his brain as Mace took another swallow of ice-cold beer. He stared at the dainty ring he'd taken from his nightstand drawer, the ring that was now pushed onto the end of his pinkie finger.

White light bounced from the perfect oval-cut diamond solitaire that had set him back three months' salary. The burnished gold band was warm from his skin. Reflexively, he stroked the ring, moving his thumb across the prongs that held the flawless stone.

A year had passed since their breakup, but he couldn't force himself to sell the ring. So he kept it, a scarred badge of survival,a token of hope that wouldn't quite die.

Idiot.

Mace knew he should sell the ring orgive it to his mom or AuntMicki , so one of them could have a piece of jewelry made for herself, but he couldn't bring himself to do either.

Somehow it reminded him of what he owed Bill. Mace had lost a friend and a future. But he was overDevon. He wouldn't wallow in the past.

With a twinge of pain and regret, he recalled the emptiness, the bleak determination in her eyes at the station. But she'd handled it, he noted with grudging admiration.

She'd been unnerved while giving her statement and picking out suspects, but her discomfort stemmed from something beyond uneasiness about him.

She was fine. She didn't need him anymore. Mace took a long drag of beer, telling himself it was nothing more than that nagging sense of responsibility over Bill that caused him to dwell on her.

Nothing more than responsibility that caused him to drive to an established, tree-studded neighborhood at two in the morning and park across the street from her trim frame house.

Nothing more than responsibility that caused him to stay there all night.



Chapter 4

«^

Just look at me. One visit to the police station and cold sweat drenchedDevon's body. Apprehension knotted her stomach and her body shook as if she'd survived a tornado.

Was she affected this way because she'd seen Mace? Or because she'd gone to the police and set in motion a series of events she couldn't stop?

She stood in her classroom. Even though school had been dismissed for the summer, she had come here because she felt safe. Here in this ten-by-ten room she felt close to her kids, knew where she stood in their world and had confidence in her abilities with them.

She had no confidence in her ability to remain strong throughout the strenuous length of a trial.

Seeing Mace had certainly unsettled her. He still affected her more than she'd imagined he could.

He seemed harder, even more in control than when they'd been together. Had she been responsible for the hardness of his blue gaze? Before, when they'd been together, there had been an air of recklessness, even abandon, but now there was a subtle shift in attitude that she couldn't quite finger. He had changed, not in physical ways, but in emotional, less pronounced ways.

Thatwas what niggled at her. This nervousness was more due to seeing Mace. Keeping a distance from him was imperative. It had been too hard-won for both of them; she couldn't jeopardize her peace of mind or the case.

The phone, kept in her classroom because of the physically and mentally disabled children she taught, rang shrilly in the quietness. She'd worked through lunch and hunger gnawed at her stomach. The sun slanted in the western sky, drawing long shadows through the linoleum-tiled room and across the Formica cabinets.

Large, ragged-edged sheets of butcher paper, decorated with birds and animals and people drawn by her kids, sprawled across the back wall of the classroom. The phone shrilled again and she picked it up, expecting to hear her mother's voice.

"Hi, hon." Josh Van Horn spoke softly out of the ear-piece.

"Oh. Hi." Jolted for a moment, she stared out the windows into the empty playground beyond. The swings swayed in a slight breeze, their chains creaking. Sun blistered the stainless steel of the monkey bars, shooting off a brilliant arc of light.

Should she tell Josh about her visit to the police?

She hesitated. She hadn't yet been able to confide in him about remembering the details of her father's death.Not that Josh wouldn't understand he was wonderful about waiting until she was ready to talk about any subject. ButDevonwasn't ready to talk about her dad at every turn, even with Josh.

"Devon, you there?"

"Of course. How are things inChicago?"

"I think I'm going to get the job. This second interview was more in-depth." His smooth, cultured voice rose excitedly. "They showed me some of the actual accounts."

"That's good. I'm glad." Part of her felt guilty at not telling Josh about her memory of Dad's murder and her identification of the killers, but she shied away from discussing it. She would tell him, though. She would.

Devonwondered if she felt pressure to inform Josh simply because Mace knew.

"What do you think?"

"About looking around?" She winced in shame. She hadn't heard most of what he'd said, although she had caught the last mention of looking for an apartment or a house.

"Yes. Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. A little distracted. I'm trying to get my room straightened up a bit."

"I think you'd like it here." His voice lowered. "I want you to come with me. Have you thought about it?"

He was referring to his marriage proposal. Unable to summon more than a flash of regret, she stared out the window at a discarded cola can that lay under the monkey bars. "Of course I have."

"But you're not ready yet."

The petulance in his tone got her attention. Josh was never petulant. "I'm sorry, Josh. I just need some more time. I'm still dealing with my father's death"

"Iknow, hon."

"And I don't want to leave the children."

"They have schoolshere ,Devon," he said with fond exasperation.

"I know, but these aremy kids. And Mom"

"I didn't mean to rush you. We'll talk about it after I return. Have you seen Dr. Beasley this week?"

"Yes. It was a good session." She didn't say more and he didn't press. He knew only that she had been seeing the psychiatrist to help her deal with her father's death. Of course, Mace knew that, too, and she'd seen him only yesterday after a year apart.

"How is your mother?"

"She's fine."Devonshoved away thoughts of Mace and tried to concentrate on her conversation with Josh. "Still inHoustonwith Aunt Sue. They're square-dancing every night."

"Well, I wanted to check in, see if you needed anything. I'll probably spend the weekend here with my uncle Joe and take a look at some houses. The job possibility looks really good."

"I'm glad, Josh," she said warmly. "That would be wonderful for you."

"I hope it will be wonderful for us, but I won't push on that. I promised to give you time and I will."

"Thank you."

"I'll call you in a day or two."

"I'll look forward to it." A pang of loneliness hit her. This was Josh, whose nice safe job as an accountant always made her take a breath of relief, and she did so now. Why couldn't she concentrate on him instead of thinking about Mace and her visit to the police station?

Even if she couldn't dismiss Mace easily, just hearing Josh's voice reaffirmed what she knew to be right: she'd changed over the last year but not in the ways necessary to become a cop's wife. Not in the ways that Mace needed in a partner.

Which hurt nearly as much as seeing him

Josh hadn't said he loved her andDevonknew that meant he was hurt by her inattention. She hung up the phone, feeling a twinge of guilt. Shedid love him. She especially loved that his job was safe and that she didn't have to worry about him or herself being gunned down.

Devonheld on to that surety with a single-minded, desperate determination. Even so, she wouldn't be intimate with him, not until she'd made a more firm commitment.

She knew deep in her heart there was a piece of her that still yearned to be with Mace. But she would never be with Mace again. And the step she'd taken by going to the police station would forever put in the past their relationship.

Though there was an undeniable sense of relief associated with the thought, there was also a nagging sadness.Devontried to minimize it. It was never easy to forget someone with whom you'd promised to spend your entire life. The most difficult part of confronting the past had been seeing Mace yesterday at the police station.

At least she wouldn't have to see him every day. Thankful for that, she picked up her purse. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned and froze.

Mace leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, one long, jean-clad leg crossed indolently over the other. Blue eyes burned into her.

Her grip tightened on the purse. "II didn't hear you come in."

"Yeah, you were on the phone." He pushed away from the door and walked toward her. He moved gracefully for a man his size, butDevonwas again struck by a nuance of change, a new deliberation in everything he did. He stopped next to a cabinet piled with baskets that held clay and glue and blocks. Picking up a ball of blue clay, he rolled it in his hands. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Just checking."

She took in the gun nestled in the waistband of his jeans, the set of handcuffs dangling from a belt loop and the polished gold badge he wore clipped at his waist. He gave a tight smile, but there was no apology in the gesture.

Once upon a time he wouldn't have worn his gun, badge or handcuffs in front of her. Perhaps if he had been more stubborn about it then, she might have learned to cope better with the realities of his job. No, that wouldn't have mattered, she told herself.

She straightened her shoulders. "Did you come by only to check on me?"

"I need to know if you're still certain you want to proceed, if you still stand by yourstatement? "

"Yes." She could tell nothing by his tone. How long had he been in the doorway? Had he heard her conversation with Josh?

"The captain wants to go to the DA today." He watched hercarefully, as if afraid she might try to bolt.

She nodded. "All right. I won't change my mind."

"You're"

"I'm sure."

He stared at her so hard she finally swallowed, but she didn't speak. She wasn't about to confess that she'd been wondering all day if she had the guts and stamina to face the grueling trial ahead.

Her skin tingled under his regard. She resisted the urge to rub her arms, wryly admitting she wasn't over seeing him yesterday, He seemed to dwarf the room, and she knew it was due to his commanding presence as much as the breadth of his shoulders.

"There's something we need to talk about." He tossed the ball of clay into the air, caught it and neatly flipped it into the basket.

A small thing, but his fluid movement triggered the image of another fluid movementhis body moving atop hers. The last year melted away. It was as if they had never been apart, never broken up, never dealt with the murder of her father.

She shook her head, reminding herself of exactly why he stood in her doorway. She clutched her purse tightly and walked past him, needing to get away from his lean strength, the gritty blue gaze, the faint hint of spicy cologne. "Like what?"

"We can offer you police protection if you think you need it." He followed her out the door.

She could read nothing in his faceno pain, no loss, no emotion at all. There was no hint of the dimple in his right cheek that she found irresistible. Sadness wound through her along with an unexpected pique.

"Is that why you were sitting outside my house all night?" She glanced at him, surprised to see color flush his neck. She had intended not to mention that, but she suddenly wanted to throw him off balance as much as he did her.

"Sorta." He kept his gaze averted, so she knew that wasn't it at all.

Now she regretted asking the question. He would realize that she hadn't slept last night any more than he had. But he didn't seem to want to dwell on the subject.

Outside they stopped in front of her four-door compact sedan. She recognized the '64, apple red Mustang convertible next to her car. The paint gleamed like new. Mace had always taken immaculate care of his car.

"Is there anything you want to change in your statement?"

"I'm sure of every last word." She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. But she owed this to herself. And to Dad.

Pride gleamed in his eyes,then disappeared as Mace studied her silently for a moment. "Good. It would be best not to discuss this with anyone."

She nodded, unlocking her door. "Anything else?"

"That's about it." He turned to leave.

"Will I hear from you as things progress?"

"Yeah."

"All right."

Their gazes locked and silence strained the air between them. It seemed so odd to calmly bid him farewell after the trauma and nervous anxiety of yesterday.

"Why, Dev?"

At his nickname for her, her heartbeat stuttered. "Why what?"

"Why couldn't you come to me about this?" Pain flickered in his eyes,then disappeared. "Why go to Captain Price first? You know I would've"

"Mace, please. I didn't do it to hurt you."

"I know that. I just thought Hell." He shoved a hand through his dark hair and pivoted away, then back. "I know it's been hard on you,Devon. I wish I'd been there. I wish you'd let me I wanted to help."

His simple declaration brought a sting to her eyes, but she fought the tears. "I handled it, Mace. I needed to do it on my own."

He nodded, but she could see the protest in his eyes. He was agreeing simply because he didn't want to argue.

"It's important to prove that to myself," she said quietly. He didn't understand and probably never would.

He didn't jump at every noise, didn't cringe in fear when strange people walked onto his porch and rang the doorbell. He didn't have the nightmares she'd suffered, which thankfully had almost totally disappeared.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, but I can see I did."

His blue eyes met hers and the depths were unreadable. "Forget it. You're rightit's not my business anymore except in an official capacity."

She wondered if she'd imagined the faint bitterness beneath his words.

"Take care of yourself." He gave her one last, thorough stare, as if storing away a memory. "I'll be in touch."

The words sounded so final that they unexpectedly stung. She got in her car, started the engine and put the car in reverse. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing next to his own automobile, watching her. He looked stoic and angry and strangely lost.

Her breath tightened in her chest and she quickly averted her eyes, feeling as if she could see the pain on his features. She drove slowly through the parking lot and exited onto May Avenue.

Making a concentrated effort to keep her thoughts from Mace, she increased her speed, passing a pasture full of cattle as she drove down the hill.

Seeing him today had shaken her as much as it had yesterday.Why, Dev? Why couldn't you come to me? The hurt in his voice nagged at her.

It appeared nothing about her involvement in this case was going to be easy, the least of which was seeing Mace. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to deal with him on a daily basis. Seeing him scrambled her thinking, made her want to believe she was strong enough to be what he needed. And she wasn't.

Breaking up had been best for him, for both of them. Now she had to figure out a way to concentrate on being strong for the trial, without dwelling on Mace.

Nearing the stop sign, she applied the brake, but the car didn't slow. She pushed the pedal again, but the car picked up speed as it reached the bottom of the hill.

Alarmed now, she pumped the brakes, her hands gripping the wheel until her knuckles threatened to pop through her skin.

Panic clawed at her. Her gaze darted right and left. Vehicles moved toward the four-way stop from both directions.

What was wrong?

Laying on the horn, she shot through the intersection, her breath wedged in her chest and a sob burning her throat. Horns blared behind her. Someone yelled angrily.

The car cornered off the pavement, tilted, then skidded onto the shoulder. She fought back panic, her mind racing.Turn in the direction of the skid . She yanked the wheel, sharply turning the tires and aiming for the ditch. They screeched on the asphalt and gravel like a wounded bird; rubber burned the air. The automobile rocketed into the ditch and hit an embankment, jarring her into the windshield.

The car slammed to a stop, trapped between the jaws of a barbed-wire fence.

* * *

Fear ripped through him. Mace scrambled out of his Mustang and bolted down the hill, his heart aching in his throat.Devon.Devon .Devon .

He could only think her name over and over, wouldn't allow himself to consider that she might be hurt. Or worse.

Frustrated and disappointed at her obvious unease around him, he'd been prepared to turn in the opposite direction when he'd heard the screech of her tires.

His legs pumped harder as he raced toward her. Cars pulled to the side of the road. An older gentleman reached her car. Two women and five children clustered in a knot behind him.

"Police. Let me through." Mace shouldered his way through the scant crowd, and his breath jammed in his lungs.

Devonsat slumped over the steering wheel. The older man knelt next to her, his hand on her leg as he spoke quietly.

Mace's chest hurt. "Excuse me, sir. Police officer."

The man moved aside so that Mace could get close toDevon.

He squatted next to the car, his heart hammering, his palms cold and slick with sweat. Both her hands gripped the wheel, and he covered one with his. "Dev? Dev, talk to me."

She stirred and lifted her head. Confusion clouded her silver-green eyes. "Mace?"

Relief warmed him. He focused on her face, tilting up her chin with one knuckle. "Are you okay? Let me look at you."

Her creamy skin was pale. Blood trickled from her hairline and a bruise was forming on her left cheekbone, but there were no other visible injuries to her face. Quickly he ran his hands over her arms and legs, up her neck. "Feels like everythingis where it should be."

"Good," she said faintly.

His large hands gently framed her face, his gaze scouring her features. Before he even registered the thought, he bent to brush a kiss across her forehead.

She drew in a breath. "II think I'm okay."

What was he doing?!Stunned, he jerked his hands away, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs. "Good."

"My head"

He silently cursed and eased back, gripping her forearm so she could move from the car. He rose as she stepped out.

"Are you dizzy?"

"A little unsteady. Probably from seeing those scratch marks on my paint job." She attempted a smile,then winced, moving a hand to her head. "Ooh, what a headache."

He wanted to haul her into his arms and hold her tight. Instead he stroked her dark hair away from her face, trying to get a better look at the cut. It was a small one at the base of her hairline, and he realized how lucky she was.

She raised a hand to the wound. "Will I need stitches?"

"Nah." He grinned, wanting to clear away the concern that shadowed her features.

She offered a weak smile, but it didn't spread to her eyes. "My brakessomething happened to them."

Keeping a firm hold on her elbow, he propelled her gently toward the road. "Have you taken the car in recently for any work?"

"No. Well, strictly for a tune-up. The mechanic said everything was fine."

"When was this? Yesterday?" It wouldn't be the first time shoddy workmanship had caused an accident.

Devonfrowned. "No. It was a couple of months ago." She trembled from shock, and Mace kept hold of her arm though she managed to walk steadily enough. His chest still ached from the fear of seeing the accident.

"Officer, should we call someone?" The older gentleman, who had identified himself as Mr. Phillips, followed. "An ambulance?"

"I'll run her by the hospital. It's not far from here. We'll get her checked out."

"I'm fine. Just a little jarred." She stepped away from him, clutching her purse and staring blankly at the blood on her hands.

Though his own hands shook and he kept replaying the way she had slammed into the embankment, Mace resisted the urge to pull her back against him.

Mr. Phillips offered her the use of his suit jacket. Despite the summer heat, she shivered as if she were cold.

As the other man ledDevonto the car, Mace turned back to look at the accident scene. Cattle meandered up to the fence, stretching their necks to pull up grass from the other side, oblivious to the vehicle that poked like a giant snout into their territory.

Mace circled the car. The front end appeared to be the only part that had been banged up. The fence had gouged a long scratch across the burgundy hood and the fender was jammed into the small incline of red dirt. With a good push, Mace and the other gentleman could probably move it so a wrecker could hook on to it from the road.

Had something indeed happened to her brakes? Dread drummed a heavy rhythm in Mace's gut. He didn't want to consider that they might have been tampered with, but the wreck coincided too closely with her visit yesterday to the station.

Mace lay down on the ground and rolled to his back, squinting under the car until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Some liquid dripped from a severed hose, but he couldn't tell whether it was transmission fluid or brake fluid. Neither could he tell if the hose had been destroyed due to the accident. But the boys in the lab would know.

IfDevon's brake lines had been deliberately cut

Mace staunched the thought, but that telltale spot between his shoulder blades prickled. One thing at a time. Take care ofDevonfirst.

As he was instructing the wrecker driver to take the car to police headquarters, a patrolman arrived on the scene. Mace introduced himself and recounted the accident.

"I'm taking Ms. Landry to the hospital. You can find her there for questions."

"Sure thing." The stocky, balding officer ambled toward the other witnesses.

Mace returned toDevon. Amid well wishes and concern, he managed to finally get her into his car. Slapping the siren on the dash, he raced forMercyHospital, dread hammering at him.

The image of her car careening into the ditch plucked at his nerves. She hugged the opposite door and cradled her head in one hand. Her other hand was clenched in her lap.

"Doing okay?" He had this insane urge to take her hand, but he didn't.

She glanced up. "Yes. My head hurts."

He stopped at the emergency-room entrance, and a doctor met them at the door. Mace explained what had happened as the doctor hustledDevoninside and behind a curtain.

Remembering how she had reacted upon finding him at the hospital withO'Kelly last year, Mace started to follow. A bulwark of a nurse blocked his way.

"You need to wait out here. She'll be fine. They'll be finished in a few minutes."

"She doesn't likehospit "

"You'll just be in the way." Beefy fists settled on her ample hips as she stared pointedly at his badge. "You can ask whatever questions you need to later."

"I'm her" Her what? Ex-fiancé?

The nurse eyed him sternly. "Yes?"

"All right." He turned and walked to the door of the waiting area. Then he pivoted and strode back to the curtained area that hidDevon.

Restlessness churned through him. For a brief instant, Mace wishedLinc were on staff at this hospital,then just as quickly decided it was best his brother wasn't here.Linc had never understoodDevon's decision to break off the engagement, meaning he'd never quite forgiven her for dumping Mace. No,Devondidn't need to contend withLinc on top of this accident.

The soothing murmur of the doctor's voice drifted to Mace. The odors of antiseptic and blood stung the air. Mace wanted to see her. How was she? Was she frozen in terror, as she had been when he andO'Kelly had been here last year?

She laughed, a soft sound of agreement and the band around his chest eased somewhat, though impatience still raked through him.

The minutes dragged by, but finally the curtain snapped open and a young, dark-haired man walked out, peeling off a pair of latex gloves.

"You were the officer at the scene?"

"Yes."

"She'll be fine. Just sustained a scrape on her head when she hit the windshield. She didn't even need stitches."

Mace exhaled in relief, his stomach settling. He probably would've reacted worse thanDevonif stitches had been required. "Can I see her?"

"She's ready to go." The doctor scribbled on a chart.

At that moment,Devonwalked up beside Mace, and he was grateful to see that faint color brushed her cheeks.

She lightly touched the small bandage at her hairline. "No permanent damage."

"Good." He smiled.

AsDevonfinished up the paperwork and paid for her treatment, he wondered if he should voice his suspicions that someone might have tampered with her brakes. No one except he,O'Kelly and Captain Price were supposed to know about the statementsDevonhad given, yet it was possible someone could have learned of them.

Mace meant to find out. And until he did, he wasn't going to leaveDevonalone for a minute.

He opened the door and she preceded him outside. "I guess you'll have to take me home."

"No problem." He watched her carefully for any signs ofgroggy behavior even though the doctor had said there was no concussion. Armed with a prescribed pain reliever, she slid gracefully into the passenger side of the Mustang.

"Oh, I forgot. I need to get my car."

He closed her door and climbed in on the driver's side. "I'll take care of it."

"I should have the wrecker tow it to a mechanic, I guess," she said faintly, fumbling with her seat belt. "Don't you think?"

He was uncertain about how much to tell her. Mace drove out of the emergency-room portico and halted at a stop sign, keeping his eyes longer than necessary on the empty roadway.

"Mace?"

"Hmm."

"What about my car?"

He glanced at her and noted the sudden sharpness in her silver-green eyes.

She shifted on the seat. "What are you not telling me?"

Since when had she become so interested in learning unsavory details? Mace wondered if now was as good a time as any to find out if she had even an ounce of the strength she was going to need for the trial.

"Something's going on and I want to know what it is." Her voice was slightly breathless, but otherwise calm.

"Devon"

"You're scaring me."

His gaze sliced toward her. He registered the fear that fringed her eyes and realized he was making things worse. "I had it towed to the lab downtown."

"The lab?" Her voice rose and she winced then touched her head gingerly. "The police lab?"

"Yes."

"Why? I thought it was just a problem with the brakes."

"Right." He took a deep breath. She needed to know, especially if his suspicions proved to be true. "I want to rule out the possibility that it was deliberate."

"Delib" She stared him full in the face. "You think someone did this? On purpose?"

"It's possible." The itch on his back intensified, but he cautioned himself to wait for the lab report. "I want to be sure."

"That's ridiculous! Why would anyone"

"Think about it, Dev."

"Oh, it can't be." She dismissed the notion in exasperation. "Why? Because I went to the police station yesterday and gave a statement? That's just like a movie!"

"It's no movie," he said tightly. His blood still hummed from her close call. "This way, the lab boys can tell us if something is wrong with your car or if someone tampered with it."

Concern clouded her eyes; the scrape at her hairline looked stark and cruelly red. "And what if someone did?"

"We'll deal with that when we find out."

"When will that be?"

"In the morning, sometime."

"You'll call me?"

He pursed his lips. He wasn't her protector anymore and could assign one of his men to her case, but he owed Bill. His decision had nothing to do withDevon. Nothing. "You'll be staying at my place tonight."

Alarm darkened her eyes. "What?"

"You can pick up some things, but you shouldn't be alone until we find out if this was deliberate or not."

"I can't stay with you!"

"You can and you will. Even if I have to sleep on the front porch."

She rolled her eyes. "I think I can spend the night alone."

"You can. But you won't. Not until I know what's going on."

"I don't like it."

"It's only one night,Devon. Just to be safe." She leveled a scathing look at him and he was reminded all over again of how she hadn't felt safe with him before. Wasn't that part of the reason she'd broken their engagement? He believed that, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"Mace?"

"Yeah." He turned onto her street.

"If my brakes were deliberately cut, then someone found out about my statement."

"That would be a good guess, yeah."

She swallowed hard, eyes wide with fear. "The man responsible for killing my father?"

"Probably." Mace wasn't pulling any punches this time around. He had to know if she could handle the potential danger. If she couldn't handle this, she definitely couldn't handle a trial.

She folded her arms tight against her. "Oh, boy. I don't feel so good."



Chapter 5

«^

When Mace had told her he suspected someone of tampering with her brakes, she had nearly crawled out of her skin. Fear ticked against her nerves.

She'd known going to the police would be risky, but she had thought she wouldn't have to worry until the trial. And now

"Devon?"

"What?" She blinked, bringing Mace into focus.

His blue gaze was sharp with concern and worry. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She didn't want to tell him how frightened she was, but she'd learned that getting things out in the open was the way to handle them. "I'm still a little shaken."

"That's normal."

Strangely, that reassured her somewhat. They walked into her small brick-and-frame house. Multicolored rag rugs splashed vivid color against the warm golden wood of her floor. She flipped the switch next to the door and the overhead light flared to life.

Immediately Mace turned his head, his sharp gaze skipping over the plaid sofa and blue-striped wing chair to check out the corners of the room. Nothing seemed out of order toDevon's practiced eye, and some of her shaking calmed.

Her gaze followed Mace's straight through the living room to the back door, which led out of the tiny kitchen. A small round table and four chairs sat undisturbed in the breakfast area. The roses from Carol's garden still bloomed in their vase on the table.

Seeing the familiar things, a sense of calm seeped through her. Mace moved into the room, taking a quick look in the kitchen, then stepped back into the hallway. Seemingly satisfied that they were alone and safe, he returned to stand in front of her.

"Do you want to call your mom? Or anyone?" He glanced around again, though whether to find a phone or to avoid looking at her, she didn't know.

He was referring to Josh, she knew.Was he wanting to know the extent of their relationship? How much of her earlier conversation had he overheard?

She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, her attention caught by the fatigue that lined his eyes, his mouth. Her gaze lingered on the strong lips now flattened in concern. A short time ago, he'd almost kissed her. She almost wished he had.

"If I call Mom now, she'll hop the next plane, and there may not be any need for that. I'll wait until we know something. No need to cause undue worry."

Devonsounded calm, even to herself, but her nerves were raw.

He watched hercarefully, as if afraid she might shatter at any moment. "That's a good idea."

She realized then that Mace hadn't thought her capable of handling the possibility that someone might have caused her accident. Hurt jabbed at the realization, but why should she be surprised? Hadn't she broken their engagement because she couldn't handle threats like this?

If this was a threat, she reminded herself, cautioning herself to wait until Mace received a report from the lab before she jumped to conclusions. Despite her slight irritation at being ordered to spend the night at his place, she reluctantly admitted it was the smartest, safest thing.

"I'll get some things together." She stepped around him to move into the bedroom.

He nodded, jamming his hands in his back pockets.

She remembered how impatient he was about waiting and hid a smile. Trying to keep her mind from the possibility that someone might have deliberately cut her brake lines,Devonopened a drawer in her bureau and removed underwear. "How's the new house?"

With an effort, she kept her voice light. The house Mace had planned to build had once been a joint effort between the two of them, a dream for them both.

He stuck his head in the doorway. "What house?"

"The one you were going to build." She came out of the closet, robe in hand, and faltered at finding him at her bedroom door. He leaned against the frame, his gaze resting on the antique brass bed in the center of the room.

His features hardened and he dragged his gaze to hers, measuring. "Never built it."

His flat tone tugged at her rioting emotions. The two of them had planned the house together and yet she'd assumed he would still have built it. A lump wedged in her throat and she felt suddenly caged by his intense scrutiny.

She turned into the adjoining bathroom and collected her toothbrush along with various toilet articles. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"Yep, still in the same old place," he informed her breezily, and her throat tightened.

What on earth had made her bring up the house? He'd probably destroyed those plans, soon after she'd destroyed the ones for their life together.

A knock sounded on the front door and both of them turned. Mace seemed as eager asDevonto leave behind the awkward tension between them.

They reached the door at the same time, and he blocked her way until he glanced out the peephole.

"Go ahead," he said gruffly, stepping back and jamming a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

Devonopened the door and smiled at her neighbor, though she wondered how Mace would react. She knew by the flushed excitement on Carol's face that she'd recognized Mace's car and now wanted to know what he was doing here.

"Hi,Devon!"

"Come on in."Devonopened the door wider and stepped back.

Her neighbor came inside bearing a foil-covered plate. "I just brought over some banana bread Mace! Why, hello."

Her gaze shot from Mace toDevon, then back to him. Balancing the plate in one hand, she stuck out the other. "How are you? It's been a long time."

Her innocent game might fool Mace, butDevondidn't think so. She squirmed at Carol's obvious pleasure at finding them together.

Mace kept his gaze carefully averted fromDevon's, but grinned as he hugged the other woman. "Hi, Carol. How have you been?"

"Fine. I thought that Mustang looked like your car."

Her gaze darted between them, openly curious until she spied the bandage onDevon's forehead. Then she frowned. "What happened?"

"It's nothing." Despite the dull throb in her head,Devonsmiled, touching the bandage gingerly. "I had a small accident as I was leaving school."

"But if Mace is here"

"Carol, it's really" Mace interrupted.

Devon's neighbor held up a hand. "I know. It's none of my business, but if something's going on withDevon, I'd like to know."

Mace chuckled. "Actually, I was going to say it's really all right. She's fine, according to the doctor."

"Does it have to do with those memories of your father? You didn't have another episode, did you?"

"No, nothing like that."Devonhugged her friend. "Look, Carol, everything's all right."

"But something's going on." Her brow puckered.Devonglanced at Mace, but his bland gaze offered no directive. "I can't tell you what's going on, but Mace is here and everything is under control."

"You're here as a police officer?" There was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice.

"Yes," Mace answered gruffly. "How are the boys?"

"They eat like horses and they're into everything." She turned toDevon. "You'll let me know if there's anything I can do? Stay with you. Take you somewhere. Do you need to borrow our extra car?"

"Not yet, but if I need something, I'll call you."

"Well, then." Carol looked from one to the other again. "All right, I'm going."

She pushed the foil-covered plate atDevonand opened the door.

Devonfelt more than saw Mace's smile.

Carol turned and her gaze raked over both of them. "It's good to see you. The two of you," she added pointedly.

Mace's jaw tightened and heat flushedDevon's neck. She closed the door and hurried past him to place the plate of food on the kitchen counter.

"She's still the same, isn't she?" Mace asked quietly.

"Yes."Devonwondered if he felt as raw and trapped as she did by Carol's obvious pleasure at seeing them together.

A strange look passed over his features, striking in its poignancy, andDevon's chest tightened. "That's nice," he said, then shook his head as if returning to the present. "She looks great."

Devonstudied him, surprised at how easy he sounded when she knew Carol's visit had to have been as uncomfortable for him as it had been for her. He turned to her, arching a dark brow.

"I'm almost ready." She hurried past him into the bedroom. "I knew she would notice your car right off."

"It won't cause problems, will it?"

"Problems?" She stepped out of the bedroom, carrying her small, overnight travel bag.

"Yeah. You know, with, uh, thebean counter ."

"His name is Josh,"Devontold him crisply.

Mace shrugged. "Yeah."

"There won't be any problems with him."

"How's your head?"

His voice was husky, and sensation stroked up her spine. "Still tender. It'll be better by morning." She hoped that this business with her car would be cleared up by then, too.

"Yeah."

They were tiptoeing around, trying to avoid the obvious tension that crept between them like an insidious fog. They were alone in her house, where they'd laughed and played and made love. Surely Mace remembered, just as she did.

Did he also feel this tightness in his chest, as if he couldn't get enough air, this irrational sense of anticipation? She tried to tamp down the feelings. After tomorrow, her life would go back to the way it had been without him, and she'd probably not see him again until the trial. A sense of loneliness pierced her at the thought, but she shoved it away. He had never needed her the way she'd needed him. That didn't seem to have changed.

She switched off the hall light and walked into the front room. "I'm ready."

He was already holding open the front door and she preceded him outside, waiting while he locked her door and double-checked it. The fierce concentration on his face sparked a flare of heat down low in her body. He'd often looked at her the same way, especially when they made love.

She swallowed and turned away, shielding her eyes from the late evening sun. If she kept remembering their past, how were they going to get through this night together?

* * *

Devonwalked inside Mace's small apartment and was struck by the sameness of the beige walls, the worn couch,the tan recliner. Her gaze snagged on a photograph of him with his two brothers in hunting gear.

"How are Sam andLinc ?"

"Oh, for brothers, they're okay," he drawled.

She glanced up, grinning at the familiar answer.

His face closed against her and his voice was tight, reluctant. "They're fine."

He put her bag in his room, deaf to her insistence that shesleep on the couch.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze moving around the apartment. "Do your parents still live out north ofEdmond?"

"Yeah."

She found comfort in the knowledge that some people lived the same life they had a year ago. "How's your auntMicki ?"

"Fine." Mace leveled a flat stare atDevonas he moved back into the room. Obviously he was neither comforted nor reassured by her questions.

She looked away, her gaze resting again on the mantle where several framed family photos stood. She realized now there was something different. Two photographs were absent. One had graced the mantel, one the end table next to the sofa. Both of her. Both gone.

A wave of loneliness washed through her. "So, why don't you tell me about this guy you're looking for in connection to Dad?"

He eyed her speculatively. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"He runs the biggest drug operation in town, plus gambling and prostitutes. Every time we get close to him, he sees us coming. He shuts down long enough to avoid the heat,then he's back in operation again. I know he killedyour "

"My dad. It's all right. You can say it." She rubbed the tight muscles in her neck. "I've certainly practiced enough."

Again Mace studied her,then gave a curt nod. "He did kill your dad. And I'm gonna nail his butt."

She wanted to know aboutMartressa . Sheshould know about him, but too much had been resurrected today. Though swamped by loneliness and a degree of hopelessness,Devonstill recognized that stirring of defiance, of anger she'd been feeling lately. "I hope you do," she said forcefully.

After a light supper, she stood quietly as he pulled pillows and blankets for himself out of the hall closet. She had taken a painkiller, but her head throbbed unmercifully and she said good-night.

As she closed the bedroom door behind her, the events of the day swept over her in a rush of fatigue. She sagged against the door, closing her eyes briefly. She was here, with Mace, where she'd thought she'd never be again. And all because someone might be trying to kill her.

It was almost too incredible to imagine. The possibility flirted at the edges of her mind, but she couldn't quite make herself believe the truth of it. She was a jumble of confusion and apprehension.

Lifting her head, she pushed away from the door and moved to the middle of his room. In the last twenty-four hours, she had gone from worrying about her reaction at seeing Mace to being glad he was with her. Now she was back in his bedroom.

Things looked exactly the same, from the plain navy comforter right down to the blue-and-white-striped towel draped over the back of a corner chair.

She could smell the musky heat of him, see his change scattered on top of the bureau. A crime novel lay facedown on the nightstand.

Feelings and thoughts piled in on top of one another. Overwhelmed with reminders of Mace, she still couldn't escape that haunting question: what if someone had deliberately cut her brake lines?

A long time later, as shelay inhis bed, comforted somewhat by the heady masculine scent of him, the question circled through her mind. Hours ticked away on the clock like the slow drip of a faucetgrueling, taunting,cruelly dragging.

She wavered between believing her brakes had honestly failed and fully examining the possibility that they hadn't. She didn't want to be alone, but shewasn't going out into the living room with Mace.

Not after that near kiss.

Not when he was on the other side of her bedroom door. Even though they were separated by a year of pain and regret,Devonfelt the need to armherself emotionally.

She couldn't come to depend on him again. Nothing had changed for them and it wouldn't. He was providing protection for her strictly out of duty.

She had no right to ask for comfort. She was no more prepared to be a wife to a cop than she had been a year ago. And Mace could never be anything but a cop.

She didn't want to think about him lying out there, wearing one of those tank undershirts he loved that made him look entirely too sexy. She tried to block the image of him sprawled on his sofa in white briefs, his leanly muscled legs dangling over the end of the couch as she had seen them do so many times.

Unbidden came the memory of his body heat wrapping around her, his strength nestled against her back, reassuring her that everything was all right.

Strangely, she felt comforted, and forced herself to remember that everything wasn't all right. She had to stand on her own now. And she could. Just as she had for the last year.

So why couldn't she forget about the way his warm breath had stirred the hair at her neck or the way his large hand rode her hip in sleep? Every time she closed her eyes, the scent of him filled her. Images of Mace splashed onto the canvas of her mind, vibrant, clear, evoking a deep longing.

So she lay in bed, watching the clock, huddled there like the coward she was, and waited for sunrise. They would be together for only one night. She could handle anything for a night, couldn't she?

With a nagging sense of unease,Devonwondered if Mace's protection would have to be extended for more than a night. Depending on what the police lab found

No sense in speculating. They would know in the morning if the problem with her brakes had been the result of a deliberate act. Then she would know what she had to do about him.

* * *

Mace stood barefoot in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and a whopper of a headache. He hadn't slept more than ten minutes last night and doubted if Dev had, either.

Even now the image of her accident replayed in his mind. The results could've been so much worse than the scrape on the head she'd received. The doctor had sent her home with pain relievers to use if necessary, but Mace had seen her take only one.

He'd half expected her to want company, even just to sit in silence after she'd asked aboutMartressa , but she hadn't stirred once she'd disappeared inside her bedroom. He still couldn't get over her asking about the bastard.

As he'd talked aboutMartressa , Mace kept expectingDevonto shut him up or turn away like she used to, but she had just stared at him with those big somber eyes as fear stole slowly across her features. Her calm acceptance had completely surprised him.

Early morning sunshine flowed through the boxy east window, slanting across the beige tile and cabinets of the small kitchen.

He wore jeans and his undershirt, but had yet to put on his boots. The morning paper lay rolled on the counter beside him and he reached for it, pushing off the rubber band.

She padded into the kitchen, her skin fresh and looking as soft as velvet. She wore jeans and a pink T-shirt. His body stirred at the sight of her. Had she always worn her jeans so tight?

He shifted against the increased current of awareness that surged just below his skin. She looked rested and her eyes were dark green, rimmed with silver.

Bringing her back to his apartment stirred the cold ashes of his heart. For the first time, he noticed how stark and unwelcoming the place was, especially now that he'd removed her photographs. Stepping into her house had ambushed him with all kinds of memories, memories that made himwant .

He quickly dismissed the ache in his chest. He was over her. He wouldn't let her do another number on his heart. He was here to do a job. Period. They had separate lives now and he planned to keep it that way.

She gave him an uncertain smile and edged around him for a cup. As she poured steaming coffee into her mug and added a generous helping of sugar, she smiled up at him. "I had a great group of kids this year!"

"That's nice." He kept his attention on the paper.

She began telling him about the seven- and eight-year olds and Mace tried to scan the articles on the front page of the paper, fighting back a burst of irritation. Why was she talking? Why didn't she just drink her damn coffee and let him read in peace?

She laughed softly and the sound moved over him like honeyed fire. He glanced up. As always when she talked about the special-education class she taught, her face lit up, and he couldn't look away.

Color warmed her ivory skin and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, in a way he hadn't realized how sorely he'd missed.

He found it hard to concentrate on her words, but did gather that she was talking about a little boy named Clay. "He is so smart and a great artist."

He could hear her words, but they made no sense. Resentment crowded through him. He'd once mattered that much to her. Or thought he had.

His heart thudded heavily in his chest and something stirred in his gut. With her large, expressive eyes and animated features, she touched a long-ignored part ofhimself . He suddenly wanted to pull her onto his lap and kiss those pink, full lips, run his hands up her clingy T-shirt and cup her breasts

"What?" He blinked, aware that she'd asked him something, but he had no idea what.

"I said what do we do if we learn that my brakes were cut?" She stared solemnly at him, her eyes now dark with concern, her features pinched. "Tell me the truth."

Reality intervened with a cruel snap. He glanced away briefly,then met her gaze head-on. Concern and fear clouded her eyes, but there was also a determination that he couldn't recall seeing before.

Dread nagged at him, but he knew he would tell her the whole truth. "If theywere cut, then you'll be put under police protection."

"For how long?" She crossed her arms over her breasts. There was no quiver in her voice, just a blunt desire to know.

He frowned, perplexed. She sure seemed to want to knoweverything . And she seemed to be handling it. So far. "Probably until the trial is over."

"That could be months, a year!"

"Yeah."

Worry creased her brow and he could see the pulse flutter in her neck. She looked alone and fragile, yet defiantly calm.

Finally she nodded, a short swift movement, and turned away, reaching for her mug.

He stared at her stiff shoulders, thinking how once he would've offered empty reassurances or automatically have gone to her. But not now. He couldn't cushion the reality for her anymore. He wouldn't.

The phone blared in the stilted silence and Mace's gaze cut sharply toward the wall. Bolting out of his chair, he sloshed scalding coffee over his hand and wrist. Cursing, he yanked up the phone receiver before the second ring.

Devon, pale and gripping her coffee mug as though it were a lifeline, inched closer to him.

"Yeah?" He kept his gaze on the wall, praying he'd been wrong, praying that his instincts were off.

Captain Price didn't waste time with morning pleasantries. "You were right. Her brakes were cut, clean as a whistle."

"Damn!" Mace's gut pulled tight."Damndamndamn."

"What?" Devon moved over next to him, crowding him into the corner by the cabinet, her thigh and shoulder nudging his. Slowly, she set her mug on the counter. "What is it, Mace?"

"Hold on, Cap." Mace covered the phone with one hand and looked into Devon's troubled eyes. "Your brakes were cut."

She paled, gripping the edge of the counter. "What does that mean? Exactly."

"It means somebody knows about your statement."

"How can that be?"

He shook his head. Rage shoved through him, boiling up so fiercely that for a moment he couldn't answer. "That slimy bastard is always one step ahead."

Sheswallowed, her face chalky. "And?"

Mace gentled his tone, reminding himself that this would be overwhelming for anyone. "It means,Dev, that we've got to get you the hell out of town."

* * *

Anger rippled through her. Mace hadn't allowed her to call her mom. Or Josh. Or Carol. He'd ordered her to pack her bag,then had whisked her out of the apartment. In all fairness, her anger hid fear more than any real outrage. How could this be happening to her?

She had argued with him at first, vehemently, but he insisted she couldn't stay there.

"Why are you stalling? You know we have to move."

"I'm not going." She'd taken a stand too few times in her life. She was doing so now.

"You don't have to trust what I say," Mace snapped. "You were in that car. You know what they tried to do."

Even Captain Price had tried to convince her. But only after Mace's captain had read the findings from the police lab report had Devon agreed to leave with Mace.

Someone had deliberately cut her brake lines.

Someone wanted her dead.

In addition, there was the problem of Mace. She could no longer deny that hewould be a problem. As silly as it sounded, she was convinced that his presence presented an emotional threat every bit as real as the physical one that had just materialized.

After all the distance she'd put between herself and Mace, now they were stuck together for an indefinite period of time, and Devon didn't know if she could maintain the detachment necessary to walk away from him when the time came.

Because right now she wanted to hide her face in his neck and pretend none of this was happening. But she was through pretending. And she had no right to expect anything personal from Mace. No right at all.

It would be too easy to let him take care of everything the way her father used to. If Devon had learned anything since Dad's murder and her breakup with Mace it was that she had to handle things on her own.

Despite the fear that pinched her insides, she focused instead on the anger. Whoever had killed her father had been responsible for a great tragedy in her life. They had also exposed the painful fact that, just like her mother, she wasn't strong enough to live as a cop's wife.

Now they were trying to take her life.

Devon and Mace stopped by her house, and she threw a week's worth of underwear and clothing into a small suitcase. Mace calledO'Kelly , and less than thirty minutes later, he and Devon met his partner at a gas station.

Mace filled inO'Kelly ,then traded his Mustang for his partner's two-door, low-slung sports car.

While not flashy, the blue car was new enough to draw attention, but Mace assured her that it would be overlooked more readily than the vintage Mustang.

All the stops took less than an hour. As they pulled out of the gas station, panic sheared through her. She didn't want to be alone with Mace for an indefinite period of time. There was too much between thempain, regret, broken trust.

"Where are we going?" She gripped her overnight bag as if it held her life's blood. And perhaps it did.

He glanced in the rearview mirror,then pulled onto I-35 south out ofOklahoma City. "To AuntMicki's cabin."

Her breath lodged in her chest and she stared at him, her thoughts scrambled. "I thought you didn't want anyone else involved."

"AuntMicki won't be there. And we'll be safe there until I can get a fix on what's going on."

If she had to be with someone, she knew she should be grateful that it was Mace. Steady, dependable,dangerous Mace. But instead she feared this would weaken her already flimsy guard against him, play upon her vulnerability to hima vulnerability she supposed she would always have in regard to him.

The whole scenario seemed straight out of a Godfather movie. If it weren't for the bump on her head and the scratches on her car, she would've decided she was delirious and dreaming in scratchy Technicolor.

Her intense awareness of Mace rattled her as much as the anger and fear. "Can't I request another officer on the case?"

His gaze sliced to her and she saw the raw pain in his blue eyes. She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

After a long pause, he said in a clipped tone, "Sure, you can ask."

"A-all right. I want somebody else."

His features darkened in a wayDevonhad never seen, becoming a cruel mask. His jaw clenched; anger edged his jaw and lips. This Mace was almost unrecognizable. Why had she never noticed the way his skin paled beneath his tan when he was angry? Hadn't he been this angry at least once while they were together? She couldn't remember.

She swallowed, waiting for him to speak. The silence scraped at her nerves. He didn't slow the car, didn't change lanes,gave no indication of even considering her request. His hands gripped the wheel, his knuckles blanched white.

"I mean it"

"Tough," he growled. "I'm the officer in charge of the investigation and I'm refusing your request. You're stuck with me."

"Well, I don't want you!"

"You don't have to remind me." A muscle flexed in his jaw.

EvenDevonwas astonished at the strength of her outburst, but fear and anger fueled the certainty that she might unravel at any moment. "I would be just as safe withO'Kelly ."

"The hell you would," he said dryly. "Reid's a sucker for women in need."

"Are you saying he would make a pass at me?" she exclaimed. "I hardly think so."

"Well, you're not going to be withO'Kelly ," he growled. "So you won't need to worry."

She thought he wanted to reach across the scant space between them and yank her over to him, but he kept his hands on the wheel. "There's no need to get any more people involved in this. No one else was supposed to know about it and now it's been splashed all over the front page of the paper."

"ButO'Kelly "

"Hashis own job to do. He's the only one I can trust at the moment."

"But if he already knows about it"

"I won't jeopardize any more people," Mace rasped. Though his quiet tone was almost gentle,Devonreeled with realization: Mace was withher , thereforehe was in jeopardy. She didn't want to be the cause of his death. Or anyone else's.

"I wasn't there for your father, but I can damn sure be there for you. I'm not letting you out of my sight for a minute."

"You can't take control of my entire life!" The stress of the accident plus their rushed exit from the city combusted inside her. "You can't control my every movement! Even you can't do that."

"Calm down," he ordered.

"That's easy for you to say. This is all a job to you." Anger blazed through her and sharpened the fear. "Well, it's not a job to me. This isn't 'normal' to me, Mace. It scares me."

"It scares me, too."

Strangely, his quiet admission steadied her world. Mace Garrett, admitting he was afraid? "At least you know you can handle it."

His voice was firm, but unexpectedly kind. "Now it's time to find out ifyou can."

"Right." Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back. Her head fell against the supple leather headrest and she slanted a look at him.

How did he deal with the threats, the danger every day? She was practically hysterical and he was calmly driving toward the unknown.

This fear was the same that had eaten at her since the night of her father's murder. She hated living with it. In fact, she'd found she couldn't. So she'd organized her life in a way that she wouldn't have to. Safe job, safe home, safe boyfriend.

But the attempt on her life had shattered the illusion of control she'd so carefully erected. A sense of hopelessness settled in the pit of her stomach and her voice was tired, bleak. "We really have no control over our lives, do we?"

He glanced at her, maneuvering the car around an eighteen-wheeler.

"We organize and schedule and arrange as though we control our lives, but we don't. Not really. Everything involves chance. Your time could come in a car wreck. Or a tornado. Or a bullet."

"Devon?"

"I'm fine." She pushed her hair away from her face, trying to tamp down the anger that still burned inside her.

Mace was protecting her, but differently than the way he had done before. She couldn't define it exactly. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that now he was apprising her of the dangers. He never would've done that in the past. Of course, she never would've asked back then, either.

Despite the apprehension and uncertainty, she liked knowing. It gave her a sense of control. For the first time, he was treating her as an equal, a competent adult, a woman who could take fear in stride. And much to her complete confusion, she found that wildly stimulating.



Chapter 6

«^

She had asked for another officer. She didn't want his protection.

If he needed further proof ofDevon's independence from himwhich he didn'tMace now had it.

His first urge was to slam his fist against the steering wheel. She was trying to push him awayagain. He knew it wasn't the same as when she'd broken their engagement, but he still felt the sting of rejection. She wasn't getting another officer. And that was that.

This whole facet of her newfound self-reliance at once annoyed, relievedand confused him. And frustratingly enough, there was a part of him that found it very intriguing. It was as if she were a new woman in the guise of a familiar body. Which he found totally disorienting.

He leashed his conflicting emotions with cold control, bit his tongue and drove with single-minded intent to AuntMicki's cabin.

Devonsat inches from him, yet emotionally she was much further away. It was as if they'd never touched in the most intimate of ways.

Well, if she could remain aloof and detached, so could be. He could function as if she were any other case, even though his heart knew she wasn't. He didn't like it, but he'd been on worse jobs.

He didn't have to talk to her to protect her, didn't have to notice that fatigue had carved tiny lines around her eyes, that worry had paled her skin even more or that her delicate hands worried the frayed edges of her shorts.

She wanted independence. That's what she would get. They took theDavisexit off the highway and turned east onto Highway 7.

"I'd like to use the phone."

Mace's gaze swerved to hers. "What?"

"I want to make a call." Her jaw firmed, more stubbornly than he remembered from before.

"No."

"My mom"

"Captain Price is taking care of her."

Devonlooked straight at him. "Josh will be worried. I want to call him."

"You can't tell anybody"

"If he's worried, he'll start looking for me." She was calm, too calm, Mace thought. "I'm not a prisoner, am I?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse again. After all, what did he care if her insipid bean counter knew where she was? But it wasn't fair toDevon; besides, it might help to allay some of her anxiety.

Mace could remember a time when she'd been more than comfortable around him, when he was one of the few people who could ease her mind. But not anymore.

As they entered the small town ofDavis, he spied a gas station. "You can use the pay phone. For two minutes."

She studied him dubiously and that look burned all over him. "Good," she said finally.

Mace reined in his temper with an effort, still smarting from her request for another officer. They pulled off the road and he rammed the car into Park. She was out the door before he killed the engine. Cursing under his breath, he unfolded his length fromO'Kelly's car and followed her to the phone.

She turned, surprise widening her eyes. "You're not going to listen?"

"Yep." If it were anyone else, he would do the same. He was through sugarcoating his job so as not to upset her.

She heaved a sigh, glanced at a piece of paper in her hand and punched in the number quickly. After a few seconds, she spoke in a low voice. "Josh, it's me."

Mace's gut clenched, but he looked out over the highway, following the silver ribbon into the setting sun.

"No, I can't tell you where I arm. But I'm fine. And I'll call you again in a couple of days."

The hell you will. Mace speared her with a level gaze and she turned away from him.

"No, really, I'm fine. Nothing like that."

He glanced at his watch. A minute and a half had passed since the call began. He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped, edging back from him as he pointed to his watch to indicate she should cut the connection.

"I've got to go now. I'm sure. Yes, me too."

She hung up then, irritation and fear tightening her lips. "There. Happy?"

"I will be when we reach the cabin. Need anything from the store? Something to drink?"

"No." She started back to the car, and he couldn't tear his gaze from the smooth, rolling walk, the way tight denim sleeked over her firm butt, the slender, tanned legs.

He ran a hand over his chest, his body going tight with want. Man, he could look at her all day and never grow tired of it. Belatedly, he remembered the need to buy groceries, but he couldn't leave her alone in the car. Frustrated by his constant awareness of her, he went to get her. This was going to be one hell of a long assignment.

* * *

It was time to move on, putDevonbehind him. Mace had told himself the same thing for months, but this time his heart knew it as well as his head. As much as he wanted to dismiss the presence of another man in her life, he couldn't.

Sadness tugged at him, but he determined to make the best of the situation. For both of them. He didn't wantDevonto feel apprehensive around him, not on top of this new threat.

Tension pierced the air between them on the remaining hour's ride to the cabin. She was close enough that, if he chose, he could trail his finger down her arm or squeeze her leg, yet he didn't touch her.

The soft, fresh scent of her abraded his nerves, already raw with the need to keep a distance. He resigned himself to the fact that he would always be physically aware of her, whether inches away, as they were now in the car, or watching her from across a crowded room.

"How's Sam?" She stared out the window, her voice still rocky with emotion.

After she and Mace had broken up, she and Sam had remained friends. Mace had always suffered a brief flare of jealousy about that, and true to form, it bit at him now. "You should know. You still talk to him."

She glanced at him, her eyes bright with suppressed panic. Her voice was measured, as if she were holding on to her temper with an effort. "I just thoughtI haven't seen him in a while."

She was making conversation so she wouldn't have to think about the fact that someone was trying to kill her.Garrett, you idiot . Mace gentled his voice, cursing at his stupid ego. "He's fine. He's still workingVice ."

"AndLinc ?"

"He's great, too." They turned right off the highway, onto a paved road, driving past trailers and brick homes. After a couple of miles, Mace slowed and turned left into the private drive leading to AuntMicki's cabin. They bumped and jolted along the white gravel road. "He works the emergency room at a different hospital every weekend. Says he likes the variety."

She smiled shakily. "I couldn't handleall the trauma."

"Neither could I."

To Mace's left, the lake glittered invitingly in the late afternoon sun. Fading sunlight filtered through the mix of cedar and oak trees, which were now fully leafed and green.

Despite the warmth of the day,Devonrubbed her arms. "I know Sam's no closer to getting married."

"Neither isLinc ."

"He's never forgiven me, has he? For hurting you."

"He's just protective, is all." Mace slanted a glance at her. Regret shadowed her features and he felt his gut tighten in response. "He never understood your fear."

I did, but I couldn't do anything about it. Mace wanted to say the words, but what was the point? "Look, let's just keep personal stuff to a minimum, okay?"

"We're going to be stuck here together for a while," she said wryly. "That's pretty personal."

His gaze swerved to hers. Where was theDevonwho used to always accommodate any request, no matter how trite? "Yeah, well. How about let's keep the past in the past? Can you do that?"

Her gaze shifted to his and he thought he saw an instant of refusal. Then she shrugged. "Sure."

They hit a pothole and her arm brushed his. Mace jerked away andDevonturned her head to look out the window. Sensation skimmed along his arm, igniting the barely banked fever in his blood. He clenched his jaw and wheeled the car into his aunt's driveway.

Flicking off the ignition, he barreled out of the car. His chest was tight and his skin prickled with the need to distance himself from her. "Stay here. I'll check it out."

Pulling out his gun, he walked around one side of the cabin, exhaling a deep breath. He checked all around the perimeter and was relieved to find the coast clear. He rounded the last corner of the house and started back toward the car, which sat in the shade of the oaks and pines that bordered the half-circle drive of the rugged stone-and-cedar cabin.

Devonwaited next to the car, still pale, but looking more relaxed than he'd seen her in the last couple of days. The picturesque cabin was weathered, but obviously well cared for.

Riotous blooms of pink, purple and white pansies lined the short walk to the one-step porch. Other flowers spilled from pots that were scattered about the weathered plank floor.

BehindDevon, the lake shimmered in late afternoon splendor. Gold diamonds of light shot from the water, splitting into red and silver and amber rays that reached back to the sky.

Mace strode toward her, satisfied that they were alone and no one had been there. With the place situated off the paved road by almost a mile and back in the trees, he would be well able to identify any visitors before they arrived.

He reached the car, trying to ignore how small and fragileDevonlooked amid the decades-old trees.

"Is everything all right?" Her voice was thin with fatigue and he noted that the bruise was darker today,more raw looking.

He popped the trunk, trying to ignore the shadows in her eyes and failing. "Everything seems fine. You'll be safe here."

He grabbed her overnight case in one hand and his duffel in the other. Her gaze went to her bag, and for a moment, he thought she would reach for it. He slammed the trunk and moved around her. Without a word, she followed him.

Though she didn't speak, she stayed close enough that he could feel her heat brush hisarm, and his gut knotted. He saw the uncertainty that dilated her eyes, but she held herself together.

At the front door, he dropped his bag and skimmed his fingers down the side of the door frame, searching for the indentation where the key was hidden.

Grabbing the piece of metal, he unlocked the door and pushed it open with one booted foot. After a wary glance at him,Devonwalked inside. Mace determinedly kept his gaze on her back, allowing it to slide no lower.

Strictly business, he reminded himself.

As he strode toward the front room, which was a combined kitchen and dining area, he felt suddenly trapped. He couldn't recall that the cabin had ever felt so cramped. Suddenly sharing the small space withDevonseemed a daunting, if not downright threatening prospect.

She stopped in the middle of the room where the dining area flowed into the living area. "It looks great."

"Yeah." Mace walked around her and tossed his duffel onto the sofa in front of the fireplace, then walked toward the bedroom withDevon's bag. No way would she be able, to say he'd tried to take advantage of this situation at all.

"Your aunt changed the curtains in this room. I like them."

Mace could hear her, but the words ceased to make sense. Just walking into the bedroom caused his muscles to contract and pulled memories from the scarred depths of his soul. He refused to look at the rustic pine bed and stared instead at a fixed point on the rough log wall.

They'd made love here. Talked here. Fought here. Made plans, shared dreams. A sudden unsteadiness rocked him. His gaze locked on the window as he fought for balance. He managed to keep his gaze away from the bed, noticing that AuntMicki had changed the curtains and quilt from tomato red to a soothing blue check.

He droppedDevon's bag and turned to find her standing in the doorway. Eyes wide and uncertain, she worried her bottom lip in a way he'd seldom seen her do. Her gaze moved from him to the bed, then darted away, a flush warming her cheeks. She remembered, too.

Pain and regret bored into his middle. He squeezed past her, his thigh touching hers, their chests brushing in the small space. Heat stroked up his body, but he ignored it.

She moved quickly, only a fraction, but enough to break the connection. She gazed into the bedroom,then turned back into the living area. Pain cut his breath for an instant and he clenched his fists. He could feel his control slowly sliding through his fingers.

"What did you mean by what you said in the car?" She stepped out from behind him. "About not being there for my dad?"

He froze, guilt scraping through him. He didn't want to tell her, didn't want to see the blame come into her eyes.

"Mace, what did you"

He turned, clenching his fists. "The night your dad was killed, I was supposed to meet him at your house."

She frowned, shaking her head. "But why? I thought you saw him at the bachelor party."

"He didn't make it. He was working onMartressa's case and he'd gotten some information. But I was late, and by the time I got there he was dead."

He waited for her to scream at him, to lay some part of the responsibility on him. But her silver-green eyes held pain, not anger. And then comprehension slowly moved through them.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, stepping toward him.

"I was screwing around with the guys, couldn't find my keys. If I'd met your dad when I was supposed to, he wouldn't be dead." His voice was stark; his chest throbbed with the pain of admitting his guilt to her.

"No. That's not right." She shook her head, her voice falling to a whisper. "You might've been killed, too."

He stared at her. He'd expected her to be knocked off her feet by his declaration, and while he could see shock and horror in her eyes, there was no blame.

She walked to him. "It's not your fault. How could you have known"

"Nobody could've known," he said bitterly. "But I should've been there. He expected me to be there. Why don't you blame me? You should."

"It wasn't your fault."

Her simple statement should've eased his pain, but instead it seemed to throb through him morerawly and viciously.

"That's why you're so determined to getMartressa ? To protect me?"

It was a hell of a lot more than a sense of responsibility, Mace suddenly realized, but he would never admit that toDevon. "Yes."

She touched his arm. "I'm so sorry. You've been carrying this around for a year and that breaks my heart. I don't blame you. Neither does Mom. We couldn't have made it without you, Mace. You have to know that."

"All I know is I wasn't there. He expected me and I let him down."

"No."

Her hand still lay on his arm and her touch burned, making Mace want to touch her in return. "Well, thanks."

His voice was quiet. He didn't deserve such forgiveness, couldn't even give it to himself, yet she was offering it to him.

He looked into her eyes, those lovely eyes, thinking he should recognize them, but they were older, wiser now, regarding him with a strength he had never expected to see there. Another facet to a woman he'd thought he already knew.

His throat tightened and he fought the urge to move closer to her, to hold her. He turned away and walked to the refrigerator, opening the door to find it empty except for ice in the top compartment.

Heading back through the cabin to bring in the groceries they'd picked up, he threw her a look over his shoulder. "You take the bedroom. I'll take the couch."

"That couch is barely long enough for you" She held up a hand at his flat stare. "All right."

He unloaded groceries as she puttered around the living area, picking up a book, moving a quilt, pacing, sitting down only to rise in a few seconds. He didn't look at her, yet he felt every movement as if she danced across his nerves.

They circled and dodged each other as if they were boxers in their respective corners waiting for the bell. After a quick dinner of sandwiches and soup, each retired to a separate part of the cabin.

Mace sat at the table next to the window and pulled out a deck of cards he always kept for stakeouts or situations like this. He played solitaire and kept an eye on the road. She read a book.

Outside the sky shifted to darkness, as if to reflect their mood. The vivid orange-and-red sunset became a green-and-purple bruise of color against the metal sky. Clouds boiled in from the south, picking up speed and turning black with the advent of a storm.

Except for the occasional drum of thunder in the distance, all was silent. Mace, his senses on alert, could hear the crinkle of every pageDevonturned, the soft give of the sofa as she shifted periodically.

He could still smell the clean freshness of her from across the room. And her engagement ring, which he'd carried since that day she'd come to the stationwas it only yesterday?dug into his thigh, a dull, grinding reminder that she'd walked away.

Wind swept through the grove, trees rattling in sudden turmoil. Mace studied the night sky, which had an eerie half light, half darkness as if the clouds were being lit from behind by the approaching storm. Trees shuddered from the force of the wind, bending nearly to the ground during a particularly strong gust.

He glanced over atDevonand saw that she stared out at the storm as well.

"Looks like a dandy." He laid down the cards.

She placed her book facedown on the sofa.

He pushed away from the table and rose as the first raindrops splattered the window. He reached for the knob. "I'd better move AuntMicki's chairs and those flowerpots on the edge of the porch."

"I'll help."

Mace opened the door. Wind howled through the trees, rattling the windows and knocking the porch chairs into the wall. A fierce gust of rain-driven wind stung his face and he faltered.Devongrabbed the wall to steady herself before she stepped outside.

The wind lulled, as though taking a breath, and he rushed to the edge of the porch, pulling back one of the wooden, ladder-back chairs. Wind tore at him and rain splattered his shirt.

He stacked the two wooden chairs atop each other, shoving them toward the door.Devonhad grabbed the rocker and pushed it inside.

She reached for one of the terra-cotta pots overflowing with pansies. Tugging the heavy container toward her, she backed toward the wall. Short dark hair whipped about her face and even in the darkness he could see dark patches of wetness forming on her jeans and T-shirt.

He called above the noise, "The wind's pulling up the tarp on the boat. I'll tie it down again."

He sprinted off the porch, stopping first to roll up the windows on the car,then heading for the boat that rested beside the cabin. By the time he reached it,Devonwas there as well.

He grabbed one side of the flapping plastic and she grabbed the other. He tugged, but the heavy material caught on the motor. The wind flapped the tarp into his face and against his legs. Working against the force of the wind, he wrestled with the plastic. From the corner of his eye, he could just seeDevon. A flash of pink pinpointed her location. Together they tugged and wrestled the tarp back into place.

Mace slipped a piece of rope through the tarp holes and tied it more securely this time. Wind pummeled him. He shouted forDevonto go inside, but the wind drowned his words. She didn't even look up. She was soaked, her hair and clothes pasted to her skin.

Rain drove down in stinging splinters, not cool and soothing, but lukewarm, heavy. He moved to the bow of the boat and motioned for her to go inside. The rumbling of the storm obliterated their words, its force dragging at their movements.

Lightning cracked and a searing heat spread from the ground. The odor of sulfur burned the air. Mace looked up and frowned just asDevonmoved toward him, horror cresting her features.

She screamed, but her voice disappeared in the vicious sweep of wind. She lunged toward him, pushing at his head.

He ducked instinctively just as a heavy piece of wood struck his shoulder and bounced off. Pain burned through his back and he glanced over his shoulder to see the wind tear through the trees like a giant jaw, snapping the thick lumber like toothpicks.

"Go!" he yelled, snagging her wrist and tugging her toward the porch.

She bolted under the eaves and toward the door. He followed, glancing back to where the broken limbs nowcartwheeled into the woods beyond the cabin. He could easily have been knocked senseless by the flying debris.

They rushed into the cabin, water streaming from their clothes.

He slammed the door shut and they were immediately immersed in stillness. The storm pounded the cabin, but inside he could hear only the rasp of their heavy breathing and the slow drip of water from their clothes. When he could breathe, Mace looked at her. She was soaking wet, her dark hair plastered to her head, her eyes huge.

"That was close," he panted. "Thanks."

"You'rewelcome."

"I never saw it coming. Good thing you were there."

"Yes." She paused, a strange unfamiliar light coming into her eyes, as though she'd realized something. Studying him, she massaged her side.

He ran a hand down his rain-drenched face. "You okay?"

"Yes. You?" She rubbed her hands down her arms, sluicing water from her body.

"Fine."

His attention zeroed in on her. Her short dark hair was slicked to her head, highlighting her delicate, vulnerable features. Mace shook his own head and sent droplets of water flying. His clothes were sticky with the heat that persisted in spite of the storm.Dev's slender legs, bared by her shorts, gleamed with water.

Unable to help himself, he found his gaze traveling over her flat belly to her taut midriff, where her T-shirt stuck to her as if painted on. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and her breasts, perfect for his hand, were gloved by the wet garment. Her nipples peaked and she crossed her arms.

He dragged his gaze from her. Even so, he was still painfully aware of her body, and heat pooled low in his belly.

He strode past the kitchen table and opened the closet behind the chair. Pulling out two towels, he tossed one to her.

"Thanks." She moved a few steps into the living area and, he followed, toweling his wet hair.

He tried not to notice the way the water sheened her skin to polished velvet or rendered the material of her shirt virtually transparent. Every detail of her body was visible, right down to the lace inset of her bra.

He swallowed and looked away, blotting his arms dry. Muted sounds of the storm reached them, but the small room was uncomfortably quiet.

Devonstepped toward the bedroom, leaving a puddle of water where she'd stood. "We look like drowned rats," she said laughingly.

He grinned, though it was painful. "Speak for yourself." She smiled, one of the first genuine smiles he'd seen her give in the last two days, and he wished she hadn't. It only turned the knife of regret harder, deeper.

"Well, I'd better get into some dry clothes."

"Yeah." He leaned down to dig through his duffel for a dry T-shirt and pair of jeans.

A few seconds later, the skin on the back of his neck prickled. Only then did he realize that she hadn't gone into the bedroom.

He turned, towel in hand, soaked clothes forgotten.

She stared at him with a mixture of hunger and longing so intense that his body tightened and he grew hard. Her eyes were a sharp greenjust as they'd looked in times past when they'd made love. Nothing coy or teasing, just raw, desperate need.

He knew he could reach for her now and she'd come to him. Knew she would surrender to the desire she was feeling. Mace's body responded with lightning-quick reflex. His blood heated and a primal instinct to take her, claim her fired his blood.

He went completely still, like an animal sensing danger. His knees nearly buckled at the intensity of her gaze. He read wariness in her eyes and confusion. The moment would pass, he realized with painful disappointment. Then he silently begged for it to pass quickly.

As though she were helpless to control it, her gaze flicked over his waist and belly and chest, touching him like a whip. Then she gazed at his lips.

His erection throbbed painfully and his muscles burned as he fought the savage need to haul her to him and kiss her until her lips were swollen from his.

She still wanted him.

In spite of breaking their engagement. In spite of requesting another officer. In spite of moving on with her life.

The knowledge ripped at him, shredding an already tenuous control. Her gaze stayed on his lips and his body strained to answer the gut-deep call she made to him. He didn't realize until his boot scraped the wooden floor that he'd even moved. Their connection snapped like a faulty wire.

Realization flooded her face, then horror. In less than a second, the desire, the longing disappeared. She spun and slipped into the bedroom.

Carefully, like a held breath, the door closed. It was a whisper of sound compared to the roar of the storm, which Mace once again became aware of, but he felt it like a crack to the head.

A deep breath rattled out of him and he sank down on the arm of the sofa, stunned. His heart pounded as if he'd just survived a hostage situation.

Her feelings for him hadn't died.

Mace knew her, knew she couldn't have looked at him as if he were the only man who could fill her up if she didn't feel that way about him.

With startling clarity, he realized exactly how she felt. At last he understood the fear that clouded her eyes. She wanted him, but couldn't accept his life, couldn't trust that he would protect her. She was afraid of the feelings she still had for him.

He knew, because he felt the same.

But the realization didn't bring triumph or even satisfaction. Instead, he felt a sense of helpless anger and defeat, because nothing between them had changed.

He closed his eyes and dropped the towel to the floor, rubbing his hand over his face. Man, he wished he hadn't figured that out.



Chapter 7

«^

Something woke her. A sound, a movement. She fought her way past the veil of sleep, awareness coming slowly. She was atMicki's cabin. With Mace.

ImmediatelyDevonwas flooded with the memory of the look that had passed between them last night. He'd seen how she still wanted him. And she'd felt his gaze on her like a touch, thumbing her nipples to awareness, stroking her body to liquid heat. She had felt vulnerable, exposed, totally at his mercy.

Seeking to escape the image, she opened her eyesand gasped. Mace leaned against the door frame, wearing only worn, faded jeans and boots. His arms were crossed and he considered her stoically as if he were tracing every inch of skin beneath her Mickey Mouse T-shirt.

He knew she wanted him. Any notion that he might have misinterpreted the look she'd given him last night flew out the window. He definitely knew.

In his hooded blue eyes were memories as potent, as searing as hers. In a flash, she recalled another timehis lips on hers, his tongue stroking her mouth, his large hands gentle on her body, shaping her breasts, urging her nipples into peaked awareness, whispering her name in a ragged pant as they made love in this very room. Two parts of a whole, beats of the same heart.

Her body heated; her skin hummed as though he touched her with those gentle hands. Purely on reflex, she drew the sheet up her body, trying to shield herself from that blazing sapphire gaze, wishing she could shield her emotions as easily.

Without a flicker of emotion on his rugged features, he turned away and closed the bedroom door.

She heardthe clomp of his boots across the wooden floor, heard the quiet scoot of the chair as he sat down. Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat peppered her body.

Not only had she revealed to Mace a desire that she hadn't admitted to herself until last night, but she had also discovered exactly what was at stake here.

Not just her life, but her heart. Again.

Last night, during the storm,Devonhad known that being alone with Mace in this cabin would be difficult. She had sworn she wouldn't depend on him again, but it had been driven home during that storm exactly how naive that thinking was.

She'd helped him escape a serious injury and he'd said he needed her. For the first time,he had neededher . For an instant,Devonlet herself relive the warmth that washed through her at his declaration. In all their time together, he had always been the strong one, the protector.

This new feeling was heady, but also unsettling. There was no getting around it now. They were in this together. For the duration.

* * *

She stalled as long as she could, but eventually she had to face him. With trembling hands and a bone-deep chill she couldn't shake, she opened the door. She wasn't sure what she expectedmaybe one of those steel blue glares that could wring a confession from an innocent manbut he didn't even look at her as she walked into the room.

Rain drizzled against the windows and hazy light seeped into the kitchen, gray and heavy, just like her mood. A jumble of emotions assaulted herbetrayal, guilt, panic. Strangely she felt as if they had done something wrong last night, when nothing had happened.

Mace sat at the table, his body tight with control. Anyone else might have thought the crease along his cheek was just part of his chiseled features, butDevonknew the anger it represented. Broad shoulders were stiff and squared against her. He barely acknowledged her as she walked toward him.

He sipped from a thick white mug, his gaze trained straight ahead. "There's coffee."

No shade in his voice hinted at the desire or the memories she'd glimpsed in his eyes only moments ago. He obviously didn't want to dwell on the past any more than she did.

She murmured a thank-you and walked behind him. A small automatic coffeemaker on the counter blinked, indicating the heater was still on. A white ceramic coffee mug waited beside it. She poured herself a cup, noticing that several packets of sweetener lay nearby. Mace drank his coffee black, but he knew how she hated the bitter taste. Had he gotten these for her?

Does it matter,Devon?she asked herself. They had only to coexist peacefully for a few days. They weren't picking up where they'd left off a year ago.

Sipping her coffee, she remained at the counter, her gaze roaming to him in spite of herself. His thick black hair curled like silk over the collar of his denim button-down shirt. He had rolled back the cuffs and pushed up the sleeves, revealing corded forearms that were dusted lightly with dark hair.

His hands closed tightly around his own cup of coffee, dwarfing the porcelain mug. Against the pale ceramic, his fingers were dark and lean, and evoked the memory of those gentle hands against the ivory of her skin.

"How's your shoulder?"

He shifted as if uncomfortable. "Fine."

He suddenly scooted back from the table and rose. She edged next to the refrigerator, giving him ample room to reach the sink and place his cereal bowl there.

At her quick movement, he eyed her drolly. "How's your head?"

"Better. I didn't need a painkiller this morning."

He grunted noncommittally and sipped at his coffee.

After last night, she wanted there to be no mistake about where they stood. He had correctly interpreted her look and would be completely justified in thinking that she had changed her mind about him, about them.

But no matter how much her heart ached or her body softened for him, they couldn't go back.

He walked to the window and looked outside, his shoulders sagging for an instant. She realized that this confinement was just as difficult for him, probably more so because he was used to being outdoors. Rain slicked thewindows, fell in steady, thrumming sheets.

He turned and pulled a chair over to him. At the abrupt movement,Devonjumped.

He glanced at her, his features carved and tense. Anger drew his body taut. Thinking only to distanceherself from him, to try and make the best of an awkward situation,Devonsidled past the refrigerator and headed for the sofa.

"You don't have to be so damn skittish," he growled. "I'm not going to jump your bones."

"I know that." Anger flared,then vanished. She moved over to the couch, wishing he couldn't read her so well, wishing this were over, wishing for an instant that she'd neverID'd those two men.

Agony pinched her insides. She and Mace were supposed to be on the same side. Instead, thanks to her, they were tiptoeing around each other as if they were two strangers who had made love last night and were now searching for the quickest escape.

She squared her shoulders, refusing to feel this way for the duration of their time together. She and Mace hadn't made love. She had said nothing that she needed to apologize for. Now if she could just forget about the raw naked need that she'd allowed Mace to glimpse

* * *

She wanted him and it was killing her. No matter how she tried to disguise or escape the fact,Devonwanted him.

The realization spurred a burst of anger in Mace. She was the one who'd rejected him. And now she was edging around him as if he were a sniper poised to fire.

He was tired of the denials, the distance, the damn past rising up like a snarling tiger every time things eased somewhat between them.

He couldn't operate effectively if his nerves were scraped raw like this all the time. Walking over to the counter, he opened the cabinet and searched through their stash of groceries. Finding the bag of chocolate caramels, he walked over toDevonand held one out to her, silently extending a truce.

Her gaze rose to his, solemn and uncertain. "I love those."

"I know." He'd automatically picked them up at the grocery store, but hadn't realized it until they'd arrived here.

He hadn't forgotten that desperate look of desire she'd given him last night, but they had to find some neutral ground. If he had to ply her with candy, so be it.

She stared at the caramel on his outstretched palm, regret and apology merging on her features. For a moment, he thought she would refuse. Then she reached out.

Her nails scored his palm lightly, a ghost of a touch as she took the candy. She smiled, flashing the deep dimples that had captivated him in the first place. "Thank you."

She didn't love Josh Van Horn. Mace knew it with every throbbing part of him, and the knowledge nagged like a toothache. It was none of his business. He told himself he didn't care. And even though he called himself all kinds of a fool, he knew that before the day was over, he'd get her to admit it.

* * *

She couldn't slip again and let Mace see how he affected her. Things had gone well for a while.Well as defined by neither of them snapping at the other.

Mace had been polite, if not at ease, andDevonwondered how much of that was attributable to the case and how much to her.

He seemed determined to forget the look that had passed between them last night. And she was just as determined. So she didn't let herself get too comfortable with his friendly act.

Leashed tension still ran through his body, giving his high cheekbones a wicked crest and making the crease in his cheeks slightly less devastating when he smiled.

The rain drummed against the windows, scraping against nerves already drawn taut by enforced closeness and confinement. Drip by steady drip,Devoncounted the minutes until she wanted to scream. The book didn't hold her attention. Every slight move that Mace made caused her to look over her shoulder.

She wanted to ignore the big man who sat at the kitchen table patiently, silently watching her. She'd caught his speculative gaze on her several times, and now he didn't even look away.

She could read nothing in his eyes, but still she knew he wanted something. What?

For the fourth or fifth time, she rose from the couch and paced to the fireplace, fingering the lace doily that stretched across the mantel.

For the fourth or fifth time, she turned and moved back to the couch, running a finger around the top edge of the lamp shade.

His jeans, still damp from last night, lay in a rumpled heap on the floor, and she stooped to pick them up. Shaking them out, she draped them over the back of the couch. As she did so, something fell from his pocket.

Devongrabbed the object before it slid between the cushions of the couch. Her hand closed over it and her heartbeat stuttered. It couldn't be.

Her breath lodged in her chest. She opened her hand and saw the oval-cut solitaire.Her engagement ring.

She turned toward him, her vision blurring as pain pulsed through her. She could barely breathe. Her chest ached and the ring seared into her palm.

He looked up then, frowning slightly before his gaze shifted to her hand.

He rose slowly and profound pain ravaged his eyes before his features hardened into a stern mask. Legs apart, hands rolled into fists, he stood as though braced against a brutal wind.

Gray light seeped into the room. Rain drummed steadily on the wooden roof, the rasp of their breathing the only other sound. Beneath it all hummed a low vibrato of tensionconstant, steady, swelling. Just like the rain.

A memory unfolded. The push of his body into hers. The stroke of lean hands on bare skin. Making love with Mace on this couch during another storm.

No!Devonshoved away the memory and whirled, jamming the ring back into the pocket of his jeans.

"Dammit, go take a nap or something!"

"I'm not sleepy!" She paced to the fireplace.

He thrust a hand into his dark hair, but his smooth voice belied the impatient gesture. "Well, there are other, more pleasant things than sleeping to do in the rain."

His voice drifted over her like silky heat. She couldn't believe he had voiced what she'd just remembered, especially after she'd found the ring.

Even from this distance, she could read the hunger in his blue eyes; they glowed like a searing summer sky and were defiant with the same memory she'd just experienced.

They were here, sprawled in naked abandon on the couch. The steady, building rhythm of the rain translated to the rhythm of their bodies as they moved and thrust and met each other, heightening, sharpening the pleasure.

The rain pattered on, mirroring the beat of her heart, the kick of her pulse as she and Mace climbed higher and higher. The memory ached in her heart. And she could read that same ache in Mace's eyes.

"Don't." She wanted to sound commanding; instead her words sounded like a plea.

He strode across the room and halted in front of her, only inches away. "Why,Devon?"

"There's no sense in talking about this."

"Why this Josh guy? Why him? What is it about him?"

"Mace, don't start this." She turned away, intent on reaching the opposite end of the sofa and putting some distance between them.

He snagged her arm, not tightly, but firmly enough so that she couldn't tug away. "Answer me. You owe me that."

"No, I don't." It ripped at her heart to say the words, but she saw no need to dredge up old hurt. "There's nothing between us anymore, Mace."

"And whose fault is that?"

She couldn't deny it, but neither would she apologize. She'd failed him and she still wasn't strong enough to share his life. She looked away.

"Devon."

"Don't do this, Mace. There's no point. We still have to be here together for a while and this won't help."

"Why in the hell are you with him?" Regret for what they'd lost boiled through him; he couldn't contain his temper any longer. "Why? You don't love him."

"I do"

"Tell me. I want to hear you say it."

Her heart ached. Why did he have to do this? She could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he wouldn't let it rest, despite the tortured look in his eyes. So she squared her shoulders. "I do."

"No, you don't," he said softly, triumphantly. "Otherwise you couldn't have looked at me the way you did last night."

There was no way she was admitting to that. His blue eyes seared right through her soul and she knew it didn't matter whether she denied or admitted it. He knew. He'd always known.

She looked away. "We're practically engaged."

"Engaged, hell! You don't love him."

"I do." Still she couldn't bring herself to face him, to acknowledge that the agony, the loss in his blue eyes mirrored that of her soul.

"We've been through a lot of things, Dev. I never thought you'd lie to me."

Her head whipped around and pain ached in her heart. "I'm not lying."Was she?

"You are," he said firmly.

He was so confident that for an instant she wanted to slap him. But she looked him full in the face, seeing the same pain and need and regret that she felt.

"Tell me the truth," he coaxed quietly.

"I I do love Josh." Panic knotted her stomach. "Just in a different way."

"Maybe you have to tell yourself that so you can bear for him to touch you, but I know better."

Her eyes widened. "Stop!"

"That's it, isn't it?"

She stiffened and tried to pull away. "I'm not going to discuss this with you."

"You damn well are. You stood right there last night and looked at me as if you were going to crawl all over me, as if you wanted to get inside me."

"That was a mistake."

"Do you ever look at him like that? Does he know how to touch you until your knees buckle with the want? Can he make you cry when he's deep inside"

"Stop it." She faced him, her chest heaving,her face pale except for twin slashes of color on her cheeks. "Just stop."

"You can't ignore that there's still something between us, and you hate that, don't you?"

"You need a woman!" She whirled away from him. "You're lonesome or looking for sex"

"Lonesome don't come close," he snarled, snagging her elbow to spin her around. "Not since you left. There's still something between us, whether you want it or not. And we're going to deal with it."

"How?" she yelled, gripping the back of the sofa. "You're going to bully me until I cave and tell you what you want to hear?"

"I want to know if you love him." He stepped up to the couch until only a few inches separated them, until she could feel his heat brush her breasts. Leashed rage vibrated from him. "You should be able to look me in the eye and tell me that. Especially after what we had together."

His breath caressed her cheeks, her lips. She could smell the rain he'd brought in from outside, the fresh scent of his skin and the mint of his toothpaste.

Her gaze shifted to his, then away. The words seemed to come from a distance. "I love"

"Look at me."

Dragging her gaze to his, she registered the raw pain in his face, the need to know in his eyes. Her chest ached. She wished she could look away from the raw vulnerability on his features. "I love"

She couldn't say it. In a blinding flash, she admitted to herself that she didn't love Josh. She'd been lying to herself for months, but Mace had seen through her almost immediately.

Stunned by the realization, she blinked, focusing on him. Her gaze roamed his features and snagged on his lips. Desire knotted in her belly, high and sharp. Even though they were separated by the width of the couch, Mace's chest brushed hers. His scent webbed around her, clean and fresh with a hint of coffee.

"Don't" Her voice broke. "Don't do this."

He edged a fraction closer, relentless. "Tell me."

"Youwe shouldn't be talking about this."

"I'm only asking for the truth." A simple request, but one that demanded everything of her.

"The truth is" Her mouth went dry. His lips were close, close enough to release all those memories she'd fought earlierhis lips on hers, on her skin, on her breasts.

"The truth is?" He shifted so that his arm grazed hers.

Sheswallowed, need curling deep and low in her abdomen and spreading through her body like warm honey.

"The truth is" He dipped his head toward her. "You still want me."

"No." The word was dragged from her. She told herself to move away, but something elemental and deep tied her to the floora familiarity, a sense of inevitability. "I don't want to."

Yet she found herself gripping his arms, curling her fingers around the oak-hard muscles and hanging on even as she heard a dim warning in her mind. She stared into his dark blue eyes, drowning in the past she saw there. Regret and loss and panic merged, but she couldn't tell if they represented what she should walk away from or what she had already lost.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

"I want to know." He was solid beneath her fingertips, but she felt a slight tremor rack his body.

She knew she should move away. "We can'tit's impossible to go back."

"Think so?" His blue eyes bored into hers.

It would be so easy. All she had to do was reach for him. She could feel hisheat, see the rapid thrumming of his pulse in his throat.

"I guess you're right." He started to turn away.

"No, wait! I" She didn't know if she could admit what he wanted to hear, but she knew what she wanted. Him.

He arched one dark brow, clearly challenging and she nearly lost her nerve. There was a hard knowledge in his eyes that said he knew she wasn't woman enough to admit the truth. The oldDevonwouldn't have been.

Resignation slid across his features and she saw fatigue and a flash of pain.

Sweat slicked her palms.It hadn't worked between them before . What made her think it would work now? Even so, she shifted toward him. "I can admit I want you."

Her voice was low and her heart was pounding so hard she thought she'd pass out.

But he heard her. Surprise flickered in his eyes,then disappeared. "For how long this time? Until I get shot? Until I'm flat on my back? Until you're afraid again?"

The cruel truth of his words lashed her. She could barely speak and blinked back tears with an effort, but somewhere deep inside flared a small flame of defiance.

He acted as if she could turn her emotions off and on like a light switch, as if she were teasing him. She wasn't. She wouldn't.

She lifted her chin, daringhim now. "I want you for right now. That's all I know."

His head came up and hunger fired his eyes.

She knew that hunger, felt the same raw throb in her blood that she saw in the fierce blue of his eyes. Suddenly she had to feel his lips on hers. She wanted him to take away the fear, the uncertainty. She wanted to believe for one minute, for one kiss that they could complete each other.

She moved close enough that her lips brushed his, only a brush. And toDevonit was the way home, a call to her soul.

She curled one hand behind his neck and pulled his head down to her, found his lips.

Warm and moist, they settled over hers unerringly. At first they were hard, almost bruising and closed against her. She tightened her hold on him, slid one hand into his hair to pull him closer.

He held himself rigidly away from her, his arms quivering as he forced her to show him what she wanted.

His resistance inflamed her. She kissed him hungrily, aching for him to respond, starving for him to open to her, to kiss her the way he used to until she could dismiss the warnings of her heart.

He allowed it. And finally he followed her.

His chest was lean and hard against the cushion of her breasts. Her nipples peaked; her breasts throbbed with need for him. His belt buckle dug into her middle, and lower down she felt the insistent pressure of his arousal.

She rose on tiptoe and leaned across the sofa, straining to get closer. Warmth flowed through her like liquid honey. She wanted to feel his mouth in places it had been before, wanted to feel his hands on her.

But he kept his hands at his sides, his mouth slanting over hers with patient finesse. She opened wider for him, drawing his tongue into her mouth, moaning when he stroked the sensitive skin. He shuddered and she felt his muscles jerk beneath her hands.

Her fingers flexed on his shoulders, urging, begging. She wanted him to take her, wanted to make love with him. Her fears of him and the past few days melted under the onslaught of feeling and physical awareness he produced.

Then a wash of cold air moved over her and she realized he was gone. She opened her eyes, gripping his biceps to keep her balance. His lips were moist from hers and he was breathing as hard as she.

His skin was flushed, and when he spoke, his voice grated out in a hoarse whisper, "What kind of foolam I?"

Rage and pain crested on his features. He gripped her arms, his mouth pinched and white. She saw it in the blazing blue of his eyesdoubt warring with desire, the need to trust battling the instinct to walk away.

Then his eyes darkened, sharp with the agony of a choice made. He muttered savagely, "I'm not playing this game again."

He released her and turned away, the hurt in his eyes ripping through her soul. "Not ever again."



Chapter 8

«^

She still wanted him. The room shrank in on him, cutting off air, breath, space. He needed to get out of here, away from her. Which he couldn't do.

Hell, he was going to drive himself crazy! No, he corrected, she was driving him crazy. He had to get away from her. She sat on the sofa, where she'd sat without moving for the last ten minutes.

Desperately seeking escape, he walked outside on the porch. He couldn't go far, but he had to have some distance. He stood at the edge of the porch, oblivious to the steady drops of rain that fell on his shoulder, eroding his patience, his sanity, his self-control.

What kind of fool was he? Despite his best efforts and better judgment, Mace had again been drawn in byDevon. He'd let down his guard and he shouldn't have. She'd very nearly brought him to his knees with that kiss, and he should've pushed her away, walked off.

Stop being an idiot and move on, Garrett. She'd made her choice. Now they both had to live with it.

She was with him strictly for protection. He couldn't forget again.

Agony ripped through him and turned to anger. After she'd walked away from him, he'd thought he would never get over her and he finally had. Even though he might want her physically, he wasn't setting himself up for that kind of rejection again.

They could work together, but they couldn't be together. Never would Mace have believed things between them would revolve around his job. Their personal lives had always been kept separate from his professional one. In the end, his work as a cop had come between them. And now it was the only reason they were linked at all.

The unforgiving irony of the situation hit him like a blow to the gut. Staring out at the dismal gray light, he realized that whatever feelings were between him andDevondidn't matter. He couldn't trust that she wouldn't leave him again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sucking in a deep breath against the pain. There was no future with her. Ever.

* * *

Devonlaced her fingers together, trying to stem the cold that had wormed into her body the minute Mace had left her alone in the cabin. Just like before, she couldn't warm herself. She bleakly wondered if she'd ever be warm inside again.

She shouldn't have kissed him. She knew it, had known it as it was happening, but she had recklessly disregarded her conscience. All because she'd found her ring. Well, no longer hers, she amended.

And now Mace was paying the price of her weakness. She'd hurt him desperately. She ached at the pain she'd caused him. Kissing him had been purely selfish on her part. She'd wanted only to feel that wonder again, that security.

She rose from the sofa and walked to the front door. Her gaze lit on Mace's gun, lying in the middle of the dining table.

Through the light gingham curtains, she could see the vague shape of Mace's silhouette. He preferred to be out-doors in the rain rather than in here with her. Her gaze returned to the large handgun, which seemed so starkly out of place on the scratched wooden table, in a kitchen smelling of coffee.

The gun was so much a part of him, so foreign to her. Biting at her lip, she stepped toward it. Her father had never allowed her to look at his weapons and she had never asked Mace. She'd never been very curious about the gun, but neither had Mace ever been so free and open with it in front of her.

She stared down at the deadly piece for a long moment. She wanted to be strong and matter-of-fact and handle Mace's life-versus-death job with as much confidence as he did.

She reached out and touched the gun, trailing her fingers over its powerful sleekness. After a moment, she curled her fingers around the weapon and lifted it.

It was heavier than she'd expected. The gray finish flashed dully in the cabin light.

"What are you doing?"

She nearly dropped the gun. Pressing one hand to her chest, she held it out to him with the other. "You scared me to death!"

Mace snatched the weapon from her and gave it a thorough checking. "Damnthing's loaded."

She stared at him, her heart racing, palms sweating.

"Sorry I startled you." He slammed the door with his foot, studying the gun for a few seconds. When he seemed satisfied that everything was all right, he looked at her. "What the hell were you doing?"

She felt foolish now and her skin warmed under his intent regard. "II was looking at it."

"Looking at it!" He scowled. "Hell, before, you wouldn't even acknowledge I carried a piece. Now you want to look at it! Now you ask a hundred questions. You have to know everything. I don't get it."

"There's nothing to get," she said coolly, stung by his accusing tone. "I wanted to look, so I looked. I wanted to know, so I"

"You've never wanted to know! I couldn't even say the word cop around you." He jammed the gun into the waistband of his jeans, turning away.

Anger flared through her. That was how it had always been. Mace would state his case,then walk away. Well, not this time. "Things aren't like they were when we were together."

"You can say that again," he muttered, looking over his shoulder warily. "You never cared before. Why do you now?"

"I always cared." Her voice shook. "Always. I just"

"You what?" Mace turned back to her, his jaw hard, his eyes flashing. "Didn't like that part of me? Did you hate it?"

"No! No." She looked down, hesitant about continuing, but she wanted him to know. "I've always cared, I just couldn't handle it. I didn't want to talk about your job because I had this idea that if we didn't, then things would be all right.You'd be all right. And so would we."

His eyes widened. "Go on."

Stunned at the genuine interest in his voice, she took a deep breath. "When I thought you were shot, I lost it. I'd always thought I was so much stronger than my mom," she said derisively. "At least she made it through twelve years of marriage. I didn't even make it through our engagement."

Mace stared at her, stunned by the admission and the bitterness directed atherself . He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but she wasn't. And the fault wasn't entirely her own. He'd played the part of the big protector, keeping his little woman safe by not acknowledging to her the realities of his job. And they'd both paid for it.

She gave him a shaky smile. "My parents loved each other, but my mom couldn't live with the fear, so we didn't live with my dad. They couldn't give each other up and it was torture for both of them. I was determined never to have a marriage like that."

He shook his head, trying to comprehend this news. "You never said anything about this."

"I know." She glanced away. "I didn't want to acknowledge it. To me, that was the same as giving the fear power over me. And actually, it controlled me all along. I know it sounds childish, but I thought if I didn't acknowledge your job, then the threat would disappear."

Mace nodded, the fierceness in his eyes easing somewhat.

"Crazy, huh? You never needed me the way I needed you, so it was easy to convince myself that you didn't need to talk about your job."

He cocked his head. "And I followed up on that by 'protecting' you from it. Just like your dad did for all those years."

"Yes. Yes, exactly. But that's wrong. At least for me. I've definitely learnedthat since I remembered about Dad. Only by getting things out in the open, knowing what I have to face, can I learn to admit my fears."

Wonder eased across his features and he stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Well, I'll be."

"You look amazed."

"I am." His eyebrows lifted and he gave a small laugh. "You know, I thought I knew everything about you, Dev, but looks like I don't know much."

She flushed, stunned by the frank interest in his eyes, as if he were really seeing her, really paying attention.

His gaze traced her features and settled on her lips. Then he looked away, reaching behind him. His blue eyes measured her before he held the gun out to her. In his large hand, it looked small and less intimidating. "Go ahead."

"No." She shook her head, but her gaze stayed riveted on the weapon.

He reached out and opened her palm, laying the heavy gun in it. "It's all right,Devon. You can touch it. You can look at it anytime you want. Just make sure the safety is on or that it's not loaded."

She eyed it apprehensively, holding it out to him. He gently pushed it back toward her. "Ask me anything you want."

She grimaced. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

"You might need to know," he said quietly, reminding her of the danger she still faced.

She didn't like hearingthat , but she couldn't deny it. "Show me."

He clicked a button and a thin rectangular box fell into his hand. "This is a clip. It holds the ammunition." He slid back the top part of the gun. "This is the chamber, where the ammo goes. It's empty, now."

She nodded, her hands shaking.

"What's the safety?"

"This little button." He flipped a miniature switch on the side of the gun. "There. Now it's locked so it can't fire."

She nodded, her stomach still fluttering.

He gently pushed her hand down and to one side so that the gun pointed toward the window. "Don't ever point a gun at anyone unless you intend to use it."

"Oh." She forced herself to hold it, to examine it even though the shaking in her hands had moved down to her legs. "Is this the same kind of gun they used on Dad?"

"No, that was a .38. A different caliber bullet."

Sheswallowed, her stomach knotting. A faint hint of queasiness rolled through her, but she fought it down.

"They're powerful weapons," he said quietly, his presence calming her despite what had happened between them only a while ago. "You need to understand them, respect them."

"They frighten me."

"Respect is simply a healthy fear, Dev."

He was telling her that it was all right to be afraid. Was he sometimes afraid, too? He'd said so, in the car coming down to the lake.

"If you want me to teach you how to use it, I will."

"No. At least not yet." The gun felt foreign and large in her hand. She couldn't imagine firing it, couldn't imagine aiming it at another human being. She gingerly held it out toward Mace. "Here."

"Anything else you want to know?" He took it from her and checked the safety in what she recognized as an automatic gesture before tucking it in the small of his back.

"No. Thanks."

He nodded curtly and turned toward the refrigerator. Now that she'd held the gun, sweat dampened her palms. Her fear of the weapon seemed to draw a stark contrast between her and Mace. This weapon was part of his life, not part of hers.

Tension threaded the air between them again.

His life was played out in guns and violence and the, dark side of humankind. No matter that he fought evil men with the only things he could, it was still a far cry from her gentle life of teaching and the sheltered upbringing she'd experienced.

Why had she thought, even for a moment, that she could be strong enough?

As arousing as it had been, that kiss had reawakened her feelings of inadequacy, her fear that she could never be the kind of woman Mace needed.The kiss that she had initiated.

Even during the brief instruction about the gun,Devonhad noted the bleakness in Mace's gaze, the grim light that made his blue eyes sharp with pain. And she knew she had to do something to ease the uncomfortable silence between them.

She retreated a safe distance away, backing toward the sofa. She didn't fear him, but rather what she wanted with him, from him. "Mace, about a while ago"

Heturned, his features taut with control, the banked fire in his blue eyes the only sign of rage.

"I shouldn't have kissed"

"You've been clear about what you want, Dev, and it's not me."

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"I hope you'll be very happy with your bean counter."

He was trying. She had to give him that. Whereas before, his condescending reference to Josh would've made her defensive, now it made her bite back a smile. "I will, if we get out of this."

"Oh, we'll get out of it," he said grimly. "I just hope you know what you're getting into."

He turned for the door and opened it.

"Have you heard anything from Captain Price orO'Kelly ?"

"Just calledO'Kelly a few minutes ago. We know the leak is somebody inside and I told him to look at everybody, not just cops. He's working his way down a pretty long list of people."

"So what do we do?"

He leveled a gaze at her over his shoulder. "We wait."

Together.

Their gazeslocked, hers uncertain, his resigned. Then he walked back out into the rain.

* * *

By late afternoon the sun broke through watery clouds. Mace felt as if an invisible chain had been removed from his body.

He'd stayed outside all afternoon, despite being soaked to the skin. Once he'd even gone for a walk in the woods, keeping the cabin in his sights at all times. The damn cabin seemed to shrink more every time he went inside, so finally he'd just stopped.

Especially afterDevon's apology. And his well wishes. He grimaced at the memory, but told himself to suck it up. This was his life and it was time to move on.

After a silent supper, there still had been no word fromO'Kelly . Mace cleaned and returned everything to its normal place, packed his gear and put it into a closet. He toldDevonto do the same, which she did without argument. He was taking no chances. If they were suddenly surprised, he wanted to be prepared to leave.

But he couldn't last much longer in this small, two-room structure. Hoping to work off some of his cabin fever and the awareness that still naggedhim, he set to work chopping up the tree that had been hit by lightning last night.

Sunshine glimmered off the water, sparkled off the wet trees. Even though evening closed in, the air waswarm , nearly stifling with humidity. Mace shut his mind toDevonand the temptation she represented, and focused solely on the feel of the splintered ax handle in his hand, the stretch and burn of his muscles as he split the limbs into manageable pieces.

Once he turned to toss a piece toward the house and sawDevonstaring out the window at him. It was because she'd found that damn ring. Why hadn't he put it back into his bureau? Hell, why hadn't he gotten rid of it like he'd said he was going to?

Even from here he could read the hunger in her eyes. Awareness tripped across the invisible wire that seemed to connect them, and Mace's blood heated.Damndamndamn.

He set his jaw and turned back to his task, determined to keep her out of his mind.

He finished with the wood, but he knew as soon as he stepped inside the cabin and smelled her sweet scent that he could not stay in there with her.

"Want to go fishing?" he asked.

There was no escaping the fact that they must remain together, but he would be able to breathe if they were on the lake rather than cooped up here where they would run into each other at every turn.

"Yes." She surged up from the couch as if he'd just offered her a life preserver. The small, confining space must be getting to her, too.

She hurried out to the car and he took one last look around the cabin. He folded his jeans and put them in his duffel, then shoved the bag into the back of the closet.Devonhad packed her gear and shoved it under the bed as he'd instructed her.

All the dishes had been washed and put away. Their small amount of food had been stored in an ice chest out back. There were no readily visible signs that anyone had stayed here recently.

He jogged out to the car and removed a roll of clear tape he'd thrown intoO'Kelly's glove box. Despite the haunting aftereffects of that kiss, he at least had the presence of mind for that.

He closed and locked the front door, then smoothed a piece of tape over the place where door met frame just above eye level. That way, if someone opened the door, the tape would tear.

He was taking no chances with their safety. In case they were discovered, he wanted to know before they walked into something.

* * *

Nothing compared to being on the water at night. The moon hung full and platinum in the dark gray sky. With each glance into the sky,Devonfound a fresh burst of stars. Moonlight bounced off the water's smooth, black surface and reflected back onto the rocky shore. Granite and chalk boulders dribbled across the dark beach. Scraggly shrubs and tiny yellow flowers peeked out from between the shields of rock.

Mace had done something to the front door of the cabin with a roll of tape,then he'd hitchedMicki's bass boat toO'Kelly's car. They'd driven to the nearest launch ramp, about a mile from the cabin. Stopping at the bait shop there, they grabbed two containers of worms. Placing everything in the boat,Devonclimbed in and backed it off the trailer.

It had been over a year since she'd done it, but she smoothly maneuvered the boat between the tall metal guards of the trailer and floated away. Mace pulled up the ramp and parked the car, while she eased the boat close to the shore.

He jumped in, and they edged past each other as he moved to the rear to man the controls and she took the seat in the nose of the craft.

As they sped out over the water, moonlight rippling in their wake, Mace shouted and pointed toward the shore. His aunt's cabin cruiser bobbed in a slip at the manna.Devonhad wondered ifMicki still kept the larger boat.

They passed the speed-limit buoy, and Mace gave the boat more gas.Devonlifted her face to the sky, smiling as the spray sprinkled her face. The wind hummed in her ears, drowning all other sound. Tension seeped from her shoulders and she smiled from the pure joy of increasing freedom.

They were alone on the water. No reminders. No regrets. This was just the thing to keep her mind from dwelling on the past, from smarting at the memory of that kiss this morning.

After five minutes of winging over the water, Mace slowed the boat and they turned into a small cove. The motor dimmed to a quiet hum, then Mace killed the engine and they drifted toward a tangle of tree limbs protruding from the water.

He glanced at his depth gauge. "Looks like about sixty feet here."

Devonpushed the anchor off the bow of the boat and after a few seconds felt a satisfying tug as it hit bottom. After dark was the perfect time for crappie fishing. All one had to do was find a likely spot, rig up a lantern to attract a few bugs, drop a worm-laden hook into the water and wait.

When Mace andDevonhad been together, they had often fished this way. She bent to one side, reaching for a rod and reel stored between two clips, which kept it out of the way during travel. After checking to see that the line was free of tangles, she swung around in her chair and reached for one of the cups.

"Want me to bait your hook?"

She sniffed. "Hardly."

He chuckled, quickly fitting a worm onto the end of his own hook. "Remember that first time we came out here? You wouldn't touch a worm."

"That's because I was flirting with you." She smiled, sliding her own worm onto the hook. "I thought I could get Mr. Big Stud Fisherman to do it for me."

She glanced up and found Mace's gaze on her. Their smiles faded, and for a moment, the past wedged between them again.

Then Mace angled away from her and dropped his line straight down into the water. "I'm sure I can still hook more than you can."

"You never could!"

"Wanna bet?" He grinned, his teeth a wicked slash of white against the darkness of his face.

Her stomach gave a funny dip, but she thrust out her chin. "You're on."

"Whoever loses has to clean them." He slanted a glance at her, knowing how she hated that part.

She wrinkled her nose, but said, "You'd better get ready then."

For a while, they fished in amiable silence.Devonhadn't realized how much she'd missed this easy side of life.

Despite the lateness of the day, heat still shimmered in the air. Only the sporadic whirl of a breeze across the water kept her from being sticky.

Water lapped softly against the boat. Holding her rod firmly,Devongazed out across the lake. Moonlight skimmed the water, transforming it into a wavering mirror.

Occasionally a fish splashed in the distance or an animal dipped into the water.Bullfrogs hiccuped in a sporadic melody, joined by the constant chirping of crickets. An owl hooted; a whippoorwill's whistle swelled through the night.

Peace wrapped aroundDevonand she took in a deep breath. Oak and pine trees staggered along the uneven bank, starkly drawn silhouettes against the gunmetal canvas of sky. The bare hint of wind carried scents of pine needles and earth and fish and a teasing whiff of Mace's spicy aftershave.

She settled more comfortably in the chair, lulled to relaxation by the sense that she had truly left behind all the horror of the past couple of days. Out here on the water, it seemed as if she'd never recalled Dad's murder, as if it had never happened. As if she'd never walked away from Mace.

"Got one!" The excitement in his voice made her smile.

"Already?" She turned her chair slightly, watching him pull up a nice-sized fish. It flopped from the line for a moment before Mace extricated the hook from its mouth,then tossed the fish into a cooler full of water.

"Better hurry if you're gonna catch up." He baited his hook again,then dropped the line into the lake.

She reeled in her line to make certain she still had bait. When she saw she did,Devondropped the line back over the side.

She couldn't resist another glance at Mace. He'd worn the same faded baseball cap he always wore fishing. The navy material was faded now; the letters that proclaimed OCPD were nearly erased. But he looked so darn cute!

The bill cast his already shadowed face into more darkness. Light from the lantern slanted across his hands, illuminated the white of the tank top he wore. Shadows played across the faded denim of his jeans, dulled the shine of his worn ostrich-skin boots.

Light gilded the sculpted planes of his broad shoulders, the chiseled strength of his arms. He moved and the flex of muscle was starkly defined in the pale light.

The gleam of moonlight on the water reflected silver over his hands. They were strong and gentle as they worked the rod and reel, testing, guiding,reminding her of those hands on her body. She glanced away, feeling that jump in her belly she'd felt earlier. It was the same quivery feeling she'd always gotten when he trailed those fingers up her nape and tickled that spot behind her ear.

Unable to dismiss the image, she let another come. She closed her eyes, reliving the way she'd always been able to get to him by rimming his ear with her tongue. At the memory, her belly clenched andDevonpressed her lips together, redoubling her efforts to concentrate on fishing.

But seconds later, she found herself staring at him again. Could I have been all you need, Mace? Why couldn't things have been different?

Devondrank in the sight of him. The translucent light of the moon smoothed the lines that fanned out from his blue eyes, deepened the crease in his cheeks, sharpened the edge of his jaw, darkened by whisker stubble, with an even-more-dangerous allure.

"I think you've got a bite," he said quietly.

Her gaze flew to his, and in his eyes she saw the same hunger, the same fierce need she felt. She realized he'd caught her staring.

She jerked out of her reverie and tugged at the line, reeling it in. The line went limp. "Oh, I think I lost him."

"Too bad." His voice seemed strangled, almost rusty.

She heard the whine of his line and glanced over to find him reeling in a bigger fish than before.

She sagged against the back of her chair. "You've got to be kidding."

"Hey, he who daydreams loses the big one."

He said the words lightly, butDevonsaw the sudden tension that lashed his shoulders.

He'd absolutely caught her staring. He'd probably been able to read the thoughts on her face. He always had been. Embarrassment seared her cheeks, but she also felt a nagging sense of disappointment, as if she'd nearly reached something she'd long fought for, only to fall short in the end.

Anxious to regain the compatible feelings they'd shared for a few moments, she challenged, "Hey, this contest isn't over yet. I can still beat you!"

"We'll see about that."

For the next hour,Devonpaid strict attention to what she was doing. She reeled in two,then Mace caught two. Then they both sat in wishful silence for long minutes before Mace caught another one.

"I'm ahead by three. You want to say 'uncle' yet?"

"No way!"

He shook his head. "You never would give up."

"You better watch it, Garrett." Just then she felt a tug on her line and she squealed. "Hah! I've got another one!"

"Way to gohey, so doI !"

Almost in unison, they reeled in their lines and dropped their catch into the cooler.

"I'm still ahead." He grinned, thumbing back his ball cap.

Devongroaned. "What kind of rod and reel do you have? How come you always win?"

"I've got the magic touch, honey. Pure magic." Whether it was the endearment or the soft timbre of his voice,Devondidn't know, but goose bumps prickled her skin. By sheer willpower she kept her gaze from straying to his.

After a moment, he said huskily, "I know you're going to try to get out of cleaning these fish. Just like you always did."

"Oh, I only did that one time," she protested, reaching for another worm.

"Yeah."

His quiet acknowledgment tripped the door to the past and in a heartbeat, she was back in that spring weekend.

Just before they'd broken up, they had spent the weekend atMicki's cabin. Mace had caught more fish thanDevonthat time, too.

She had grabbed the hose to clean off the cutting table stationed next to the cabin. Mace kept ribbing her about catching less fish than he.You just don't have the touch, baby. At least not for fish.

Finally she had turned the hose on him. She had doused him good before he'd managed to wrest the hose away and turn it on her. By the time she was soaking wet, they'd both forgotten about the fish.

They had stripped off each other's clothes on the way into the cabin, but they'd never made it farther than the porch. They'd made love up against the door.

She could still feel the rough wood of the cabin door abrading her back, smell her scent mingling with Mace's. Her breasts burned where his lips touched her. And she could feel his hands flexing on her hips, holding her steady as he pushed into her, torturously, achingly slow.

His tongue played in her mouth until she was boneless and screaming with need.

"Devon?"

She saw his lips move and wanted to feel them on hers, on her skin.

"Devon!" This time her name cracked sharply from his lips.

She blinked and looked into his eyes.

His features were pinched and taut. Hunger ravaged his eyes and they burned with savage desire. A muscle flexed in his cheek. "Hell, stop looking at me like that."

Slowly, like a shade being drawn over the sun, she saw him withdraw, saw his expression change from hunger to denial. He looked away, his hands tightening on the slender fiberglass rod in his hands until she thought it would snap.

Regret burned in her chest. She edged to the other side of her seat and silence clogged the air between them.

Ragged tension scraped at her nerves. What was the matter with her? She was the one who'd broken off with Mace, who'd told him she was practically engaged to Josh and yet she couldn't stop thinking about Mace, about being with him.

She wanted to believe that she had changed over the last year, that she could handle things about his jobshe was on the run with him, wasn't she?but she feared she was the same skittish, anxious woman who'd left him a year ago.

That meant she shouldn't want him.

But she did.

She felt helpless and struggled to maintain some semblance of control. Oddly, she recalled the feeling of power she'd experienced when she'd held Mace's gun. That heady sensation was strangely similar to the way she used to feel about Mace's love for her, knowing that she could sometimes be what he needed, but certain that she could always be what he wanted.

Sadness wound through her. Those days were gone, and now she and Mace were back to the tension that had dogged them incessantly in the cabin. Being alone together, whether indoors or out, was going to destroy both of them.

The motor roared to life andDevonstarted, grabbing for the anchor line to haul up the weight before Mace took off. She quickly stored her fishing gear and capped the container of worms. The ride back felt somehow colder, and she realized that the chill had wedged deep into her heart.

They didn't return to the boat launch; instead Mace drove toward the cabin and tied the boat to a small sapling on the shore.

He helped her out, but his hand didn't linger in hers. She wrapped her arms around her waist and followed him up the slight incline toward the wooded area in front of cabin.

His boots and her sneakers made only occasional noise as they stepped on a twig or scattered a bunch of pebbles.

Devondared a glance at him and noted the stiff shoulders, the ruthless set of his jaw. "If you want to turn the case over to someone else, I understand."

His gaze sliced to her, gleaming like dark fire in the night. "That's not going to happen."

"You probably didn't expect" She broke off, rubbing her arms. "I didn't expect it to be so difficult."

He stared at her for a long moment, his features locked and hard. "I said I'd protect you and I will. Let's not talk about it again, all right?"

She studied him, wishing she could erase some of the remoteness from his eyes, yet knowing that was all that kept her from kissing him again. "All right."

He pushed aside a tree branch and let her precede him up the dark trail. Moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating their way.

Devonspoke over her shoulder. "MaybeO'Kelly knows something by now."

"I told you I called him earlier. There's nothing."

"Well, maybe that's a good sign. Maybe"

"It means he doesn't know anything," Mace said tightly.

Devoncouldn't imagine another day like she and Mace had spent today, with tension so tight between them they were both about to snap like a stressed rubber band. "Hey, the department could get a policewoman to stay with me and we could go back."

"No policewoman."

"You might have a better chance of catching those two men if I were at home."

He stopped then and turned heraround, staring at her as if she'd suggested she stand in the middle of a busy highway.

"I don't think you like being out here with me any better than I like it."

"I don't."

"Well, then?"

"We've been all through this," he growled, taking off through the woods again.

She hurried to catch up. "It's been two days. Maybe we can go somewhere else."

"Damn, Dev, we're not on a world tour here. There's no need to move unless we have to."

"It can't be any easier for you to be at the cabin than it is for me. I'll admit it even if you won't."

"Good for you."

She stopped, watching his ramrod-straight back and stiff shoulders fade into the shadows.

When he realized she wasn't following, he spun around and walked a few steps back toward her. "Come on."

"Did you bring me here because you wanted me to remember, Mace?"

"Hell, no!" He exhaled loudly and tilted his head up to study the night sky, as if searching for patience.

"Did you think I would remember how things used to be between us and want them to be that way again?"

"Do we have to do this?" He sounded suddenly tired and looked haggard in the hazy light of the moon.

She choked back a sob, a painful knot of memory. "Do you think I could ever forget how we used to be?"

She shouldn't have admitted it to him. She saw the hope flare in his eyes. Then she saw it die.

He tunneled a hand through his hair,then massaged his neck. In a grainy voice, he said, "We can't leave,Devon. Not untilO'Kelly finds something."

Her heart ached for Mace. Why, oh why, couldn't she accept his life? Why did she have to run scared?

She nodded and walked toward him. They crossed the lawn and reached the cabin.

Suddenly, Mace turned to her. "Why don't you wait here?"

Apprehension skittered up her spine, but she nodded in silent agreement. What was wrong?

As he edged up to the porch, she strained to hear something, anything, but there was only the slight swish of trees in the wind, the distant slap of water against the shore. A faint fish odor drifted from their hands.

"Mace?"

He held up his palm and she fell silent.

He glanced around the porch,then stepped up to the door. Dread edged through her. She clenched her fists tight against the urge to follow him, to wrap her arms around him.

"Damn."

The word was so softDevonnearly missed it. She peered around him and followed his gaze until she saw what held his attention. Squinting closely, she made out a piece of broken tape on the door frame.

"Looks like we'll be leaving, after all," he said quietly. Alarm fluttered as she stared at the tape. "You put that there before we left. What does that mean?"

"Somebody's been here."

Somebody who was looking for her.



Chapter 9

«^

"You've got to be kidding."

Devonstared around the hotel room, her jaw slack. "When you said we were leaving, I didn't think you meant for this."

"We'll be safe here until we can figure out what's going on."

She grimaced and took in the utterly gaudy surroundings of their room at the No-Tell Motel. She still couldn't believe someone had actually put the name on a sign, off the highway, no less. Neither could she believe the decor.

Raspberry velvet glutted the room. A frayed velvet spread, complete with moth-eaten edges, covered a round bed. Ceiling mirrors threw back the image of the bed, in a startling red reflection. Matted pink-and-gold carpet covered the floor. Gold tassels decorated the draperies, which were the same worn crimson.

The pale pink walls looked grungy, andDevonreflexively wiped her palms down the front of her jeans. Her gaze was again drawn to the bed. At the end next to the wall hung a metal box. She pointed, wrinkling her nose. "What is that?"

Mace turned from his position at the window and drawled, "That's a change box. For our vibrating bed, honey."

"Ugh." A pink-shaded lamp, edged with ratty gold fringe, rested on the white lacquer night table, and pink light suffused the dismal room.

In front of the bed was a television set with a cardboard sign that listed available video entertainment.Devongingerly lifted the card, her eyes widening. "Busty Biker Babes?"

Mace grunted, checking out the locks on the door.

"Sex on the Saddle? Candy's Land?Mace!"

"We'll only be here awhile. It's the best access for a quick exit." He looked out the window toward the office.

By way of a hundred-dollar bill, he'd managed to obtain this room, which faced the office. The promise of another hundred had gotten from the manager and his wife a solemn vow that Mace would be immediately alerted to anyone asking about him. They had also agreed to steer any such visitors to Room 1, on which Mace could also keep an eye.

He moved away from the window and looked around the room. "OnceO'Kelly calls me back, maybe we'll have something to go on."

In spite of their almost comic surroundings, a chill crept upDevon's spine as she recalled their return to the cabin. Thank goodness Mace had cleared away all traces of their presence before they'd gone fishing. He had told her that he hoped the people on their trail had assumed they had already left the cabin.

"Wanna watch TV?" He flicked a hand at the video box.

She grinned weakly. "No, thanks."

"Me, either." His blue gaze bored into her, measuring, testing, and she shifted uncomfortably.

She hadn't become hysterical tonight, but neither had she let more than two inches separate them since they'd leftMicki's cabin.

"You did great tonight."

She blinked. "I did?"

"Yep." His lips tugged up in a crooked smile. "Your dad would've been proud."

He walked into the bathroom andDevonsank down on the edge of the bed. He had to be kidding! She had beenwasscared to death. She hadn't screamed and cried like a wimp, but neither had she helped much. Her movements had been wooden and strictly mechanical as she walked to the car, following Mace's instructions to pick him up at the marina where he'd returned the boat.

The threat to her was real and moving closer. It all seemed like some grotesquely slow movie. She couldn't believe this was happening to her.

She'd done great? Who was he trying to kid?

But his praise sparked something warm deep inside her. A realization bloomed. Mace had never, ever, criticized her fear or concerns. He'd never suggested she get a backbone or try to act more bravely.

She had always been the one to find fault, to assume that she wasn't the strong kind of woman that he needed.

Could she have been wrong this whole time? Was there something inside her, some core of strength that she had never realized? Could she perhaps really be enoughwoman for him? Automatically, from months of practice, she tried to dismiss the possibility, but this time it nagged.

Fear still gnawed at her,but there was a new sense of competence, of determination. Whether or not it was due to Mace's company and reassuring presence, she didn't know, but she felt as if she could handle the threat, at least.

She hadn't performed any heroics tonight, but neither had she embarrassed herself by panicking. She was holding it together. Even though she was frightened, she wasn't paralyzed by the fear.

She could no longer dismiss the danger. As much as she'd resisted the idea, she could no longer pretend that she wasn't dependent on Macethis time for her life.

And she could no longer deny that she was still in love with him.

* * *

The nightmare stalked her that night. Again she was back in the kitchen. Again through the laundry-room doors she saw the two men who murdered her father. Blood pooled on the floor, crept toward her feet.

Her chest ached with the pressure to cry. Night closed in around her and frigid cold hooked at her insides. The men held guns. She held a gun. Blood slicked her hands. Her father's eyes stared sightlessly up at her.

Pressure built in her chest. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted tohide .

Her eyes flew open and her gaze swept the cheap motel room. Where was she? What had happened?

She sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat, shaking as if she had the flu. Suddenly she remembered she was with Mace. She remembered where they were and why.

Mace sprawled in a chair near the window, his long legs stretched out and resting on the corner of the bed.

The air was sparse and tight.Devonstruggled to breathe, to dismiss the horrible pictures in her mind. Her chest ached with a sob she didn't dare let out.

Mace was here. Everything was all right. It had only been a dream.

She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Her skin was clammy now and her head throbbed. She shoved her hair away from her face and pushed back the thin sheet, which smelled of smoke and dime-store perfume.

Her feet touched the floor and she bowed her head. Despite the dust and dirt in the flat, cheap carpet, she gave a sigh of relief. This was real. She was all right.

"Devon?"

She started, her hands clenching the edge of the bed. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mace's eyes gleaming in the darkness, his features haloed by the vapid streetlight that fingered through the threadbare drapes at his back.

"I'm okay. I just need a drink of water."

He swung his legs off the corner of the bed and straightened in the chair.

She didn't want to tell him about the nightmare. It had probably been triggered by their quick exit from the cabin. Or handling Mace's gun. She didn't want to confess her cowardice to him.

"Dev?"

She pushed up from the bed and walked to the bathroom door, staring at the places where the white paint was chipped and peeling. "I'll be right back."

She slipped inside, the pressure around her chest easing somewhat. Leaning back against the door, she drew in deep breaths until the quivering in her belly stopped. Until her hands quit shaking. Until the bloodied image of her dad faded.

She was fine, she reassured herself, but how much longer until this was all over?

A lone, uncovered lightbulb hung from a string in the ceiling and cast a gray pall over the plain white room and its platinum fixtures. Water dripped from the sink faucet, following a rusty line created by a continual leak.

Shaking, she moved to the sink and turned on the water so Mace wouldn't wonder about her. Peering into the mirror, she studied the wavy reflection staring back at her. Her face was pale, her eyes huge and dark,her lips bloodless.

If she and Mace weren't caught by the men chasing them, would she be strong enough to endure the trial? Would she be able to actually testify in front of the man accused of having her father murdered?

Her gaze caught on the condom machine dangling from the wall. "Well, you're in the Happy Hooker Motel, aren't you?" she muttered. "You never thought you'd be in a place like this either."

Nausea rolled through her, until she unexpectedly remembered the feeling of control she'd had while holding Mace's gun. Remembered the absolute trust she'd placed in him tonight when they'd returned to find the cabin had been visited. From somewhere deep inside, determination welled.

She might be scared, but she wasn't running. Not anymore. Not from her nightmares. Not from the men who were trying to find her.

She turned off the light and opened the door, stepping out into the stale-smelling room. After a few seconds her eyes readjusted to the grainy dimness.

The light from the window illuminated the few steps back to the bed. In the half-darkness, she could see the gleam of Mace's eyes and knew that he had been waiting for her.

"Everything okay?" His sleepy voice, like silk-covered gravel, slid over her and sparked a flutter of warmth low in her belly.

"Yes." She eased onto the bed, still sitting on the edge, her toes curling into the cool dirty carpet. There would be no more nightmares tonight.

Behind her, Mace's chair groaned as he shifted into a more comfortable position. Other sounds filtered to herthe creak of a vibrating bed several doors down, the occasional moans and rough laughter that drifted through the walls. In the darkness,Devon's face heated and she tried to shut out the reminders of the triple X-rated hotel where she and Mace had sought safety.

In a few seconds, she shut out the other raucous noises and focused on the sound of his even breathing. She didn't close her eyes, just stared at the shadows that stretched along the opposite wall, listened to the steadyplopplop of water from the bathroom faucet.

Her stomach settled somewhat, but the sense of fear hovered. She ached for Mace to hold her. No, not Mace, she amended, just the touch of another human to chase away the fear. She couldn't sleep again tonight.

Though Mace's breathing was deep and even,Devonknew he wasn't asleep, either. She could feel his watchful gaze on her.

"Why don't you take the bed for a while?" She turned slightly toward him. "Your back will hurt tomorrow if you sleep in that chair all night."

"I'm okay." His voice carried no hint of the tension that had stretched between them for the last two days. In fact it was soothing and easy, restoring some security to her world, which had been skewed by the nightmare. It would be easy to pretend that they were simply two friends sharing a room for the night. "Don't want to get too comfortable."

His casually spoken words immediately brought her back to grim reality. Though he left the threat unvoiced, it was still tangible and very much a possibility. Those men could already be on their trail again.

"I don't think I'll get much sleep anyway." Her voice shook and she clenched her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling uncontrollably. "You should let me have the chair."

"I wouldn't feel right about it." He shifted and the chair squeaked with his weight. "Why don't you lay down and at least try for a little rest?"

At his gentle request, she glanced over her shoulder. He was draped in shadows and she couldn't see his face.

She wanted to argue, or better yet, get in the chair with him, but she slowly lifted the thin sheet and slid into bed. She felt the weight of his legs and feet on the corner of the bed and a sense of security enveloped her.

But she didn't close her eyes. All night, she stared at the stupid gold fringe hanging from thePeptoBismol -colored lamp.

* * *

She hadn't slept at all. Mace knew because he'd stayed awake the rest of the night, watching her. The garish light had cast her pale features in a frighteningly deathlike pall.

What had happened to wake her last night? A dream? She hadn't cried out or thrashed around. Could she simply have awakened and been startled by the unfamiliarity of the room, the bed? Most likely she'd been on edge due to the scare at the cabin yesterday.

Whatever it was, the fact that she hadn't confided in him chafed. He should be relieved. The last thing he wanted was to get tangled up with her again. Hell, who was he kidding? He was already tangled up with her.

He stood in the shower, letting the hot, sporadically pulsing water rinse the sticky soap from his body.Devonhad already bathed, and despite Mace's best try, he couldn't staunch the memory of the showers they'd shared in the past.

With great effort, he kept from dwelling on the image of soap-slick ivory breasts androse nipples, of sleek thighs and quick hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head, forcing out the memories. One thing he'd always liked about her was that she'd never taken hours getting ready in the bathroom. She was still like that. She'd showered and changed in less than fifteen minutes, exiting the bathroom wearing the pink T-shirt and denim shorts she'd worn the day they'd gone to the cabin.

Had that been only three days ago? Seemed like another lifetime. She'd left her shampoo in the shower, and he poured out a dollop,then worked it into his hair, inhaling the honeysuckle scent.

Whatever was bothering her, she was handling. She'd been quiet since they'd both gotten up, but she wasn't skittish. She was probably thinking as much as he was. Was she thinking about him?

The possibility streaked through his mind before he could halt it and he grimaced in disgust.

She'd done well yesterday. Pride surged through him, then that damn flare of hope he could never quite squash. Just because she'd handled things so far didn't mean she could handle them for a lifetime. It wasn't something he was willing to find out, either.

It was over between them. Truly over. And for the first time, he was moving on. At least he'd met that hurdle and cleared it while they were at the cabin. It didn't mean he wasn't still affected by her, but maybe someday

He stepped out of the tub and quickly dried off, pulling on his jeans and a blue knit pullover shirt. After giving his hair a rough towel drying, he stepped out into the room.

Devonstood at the window, peering between the raspberry drapes. She turned at the creak of the bathroom door.

Her gaze skipped over him and she glanced away. "What now?"

"I want to callO'Kelly , tell him what went down yesterday." Mace sat on the edge of the round bed and reached for his boots.

She stood where she was, her arms wrapped around her waist, her gaze focused on a spot over his shoulder. "Then what?"

He pulled on a sock and a boot, glancing up. "Then we'll decide whether to hang out here or find other accommodations."

"Like these?"

He grinned at her obvious distaste. "Hopefully better."

She gave him an absent smile, her gaze flitting about the room. He looked around, trying to see what she found so interesting. Maybe she simply couldn't get over the lewdness of the place.

Running a hand through his damp hair, he glanced back at her. She looked quickly away and his breath lodged in his chest. He wished she'd quit looking at him as if he were something between her protector and the devil incarnate. She'd tried to hide the raw hunger in her eyes, but he'd caught it all the same.

His quick flare of irritation blazed higher. She wanted him. He wanted her. It would be so easy to use her, to relieve this constant throb in his body until this job was over. But he couldn't do it. Not to either of them. So things would go on between them as they had been.

Stilted. Tense. Damn unsatisfying.

Determined not to dwell on what would never be, Mace rose and moved to the window.Devonstepped out of his way, careful to avoid touching him.

His gut knotted with frustration, but he focused his attention on the parking lot outside, where the same four cars that had been there last night were still parked. The squeak of vibrating beds and the low hum of television sets were absent in the light of day.

He turned toDevon. "I'm going out for some food. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but don't open the door to anyone. Except me." He reached for his keys and gun.

"How long will you be gone?"

"No more than ten minutes. I saw a gas station up the highway. I'll be right back."

She nodded, uncertainty darkening her silver eyes.

He moved to the door and slid open the chain lock, then turned the dead bolt. "You'll be okay."

"Sure." She swallowed, but met his gaze, attempting a smile.

He couldn't help it; he wanted to pull her close and hold her until she believed everythingwould be all right. Instead, he grinned. "Don't let me catch you trying out that bed."

She laughed then. "Get out of here. I'm starving."

With the smile, her skin warmed and her eyes sparkled like they used to when they teased each other. His heart kicked into high gear, and for his sanity as well as hers, he walked out the door.

* * *

The sound of Mace's car faded into the distance andDevon's smile disappeared. Now that she was alone, fear scratched at her. But she refused to succumb.

She'd done just fine up until now. Mace wouldn't let anything happen to her. And if something occurred while he was gone, well she'd just handle it. She hoped.

She made the bed,then picked up her towel and Mace's. His dark, musky scent rose from the wet towel and for an instant her fingers clenched on it. Then she hung it beside hers on a small silver hook in the bathroom.

Unbidden came the image of him walking from the bathroom. She didn't have to look at him to appreciate his body. In fact, though she'd fought it, her mind replayed full-color images.

Even though he'd been wearing jeans and a shirt, in her mind's eye she saw the broad, muscled planes of his chest, the dark hair that feathered over the padded muscles and down below his navel in a V, to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. She knew by feel the supple leather of his skin, the flex of muscle in his strong arms and back and buttocks as they made love, the sleek power of his runner's legs.

More than anything she remembered the way his blue eyes burned for hercoaxing, urging, pleading. A lump formed in her throat and loneliness slammed through her.

This combination of regret and desire always made her want to dismiss her weaknesses, focus on the strength of what they had shared. Wasn't there any way they could be together? Hadn't she grown enough, overcome enough in the last year that she could be what he needed?

What was wrong with her? After what she'd done to Mace, why would he even want her? Oh, physically he did want her. He'd made no secret of that. But he would never open his heart to her again.

Trying to pull her mind from thoughts of Mace, she wandered about the room, staring distastefully at the cardboard sign advertising the pornographic movies. Her mother would laugh herself silly if she could seeDevonhere.

Her mother! She was scheduled to return from Aunt Sue's last night. In all the commotion,Devonhad completely forgotten. Marilee had probably been trying to call her and would be beside herself with worry.

Devonglanced at her watch. Mace had said he would be back in a few minutes, but already ten had passed. He had taken the cellular phone with him. Her gaze lit on the utilitarian beige phone stuffed behind the pink lamp. Just a quick call to reassure Mom. Surely Mace wouldn't mind that.

Devonrushed to the phone and punched in the number.

Marilee answered on the second ring.

"Mom? It's me."

"Devon! Where are you? I've called your house five times and"

"Just listen, Mom. I don't have long to talk."Devonexplained briefly what had happened since she had made her statement at the police office. "I can't tell you where we are, but we're fine. This should all be over soon."

Devonwished she felt as confident as she sounded.

"Mace knows what he's doing,Devon."

"I know."

"He'll be careful."

"I know, Mom."Devonhad intended to reassure her mom, but instead Marilee was reassuring her.

"You're much stronger than I ever was, honey. Believe that. Remember it."

Touched by her mother's words,Devonfelt her throat tighten. "I will. Listen, Mom, I don't have long to talk."

"Oh." Marilee's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Devon, how are things going with Mace?"

"Mom, I can hardly hear you."

"Are you and Maceyou know, reconciling?"

"No!" she yelped. "Of course not." She lowered her voice, knowing her too-observant, too-hopeful mother would read something into that. "Nothing like that. In fact, we're barely getting along."

"Uh-huh."

Nothing would please Marilee more than for Mace andDevonto reunite, but her mom knew what kind of painDevonhad put Mace through. And Marilee knew whatDevonhad been trying to learn to handle. "Mom"

"I'm glad you're all right. Josh told me some of what happened, but he didn't know much, either."

"You've talked to Josh?"

"He's right here. Would you like"

"No."Devoncut her off before Marilee could ask if she wanted to speak to him. She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't even considered calling him again. "I can't stay on the line."

A double knock sounded on the door, then another one. Mace's signal.

"Honey, Josh wants to talk to you."

"Mom, I can't. Mace is back and I've got to go."

"Just for a second, honey."

"No, Mom, really. Tell him I'm sorry. I'll talk to you both soon."

"Devon!" Mace's urgent tone carried through the thin door.

"Take care, honey."

"I will."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom."

"Devon!" Mace's voice was more urgent this time.

"Bye." She quickly hung up the phone,then crawled over the bed to unlock the door.

His blue eyes were gray with concern. He shut the door behind him with his foot and set down the two coffees along with a bulging, white paper sack.

He turned. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No. I'm sorry it took me so long to come to the door."

His gaze scoured her features. "Are you sure? I was afraid something happened to frighten you."

"Honest, Mace." She turned back to lock the door behind him. "I was just talking to Mom."

"You what?" He snagged her elbow and spun her around.

She gaped at him, rubbing the spot, which now stung from his touch. "What's the problem?"

"You called your mom? What in the hell for?"

"Because she returned from Aunt Sue's last night and I knew she'd be worried sick!"Devonjerked away, her earlier warmth toward him quickly evaporating. "I wasn't on there long. I would've waited for you, but I suddenly remembered she was back and I thought I shouldoh, no."

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as if he were trying desperately hard not to yell at her.

"Mace?"

"Devon," he said through gritted teeth, "you should've used my cell phone."

"How am I supposed to know all this stuff?"

"It's okay."

"I'm not in the cloak-and-dagger business. Every time I go outside, I don't immediately assume someone is following me. I'm not used to guys with guns chasing me around. Or people listening to my phone conversations. For crying out loud, I'm not James Bond or something."

"Okay, okay." Mace chuckled. "You're right. You just didn't think."

She stiffened. "I'm not stupid. I just didn't"

"Hey." He held up a hand. "I'm not saying anything like that. Just that perhaps you weren't very cautious?"

Her fear and anger eased. "Sorry. It's just that I knew Mom would be worried and I wanted to reassure her."

"It's okay. We'll manage. You didn't call anyone else?"

"No." She rubbed her neck, suddenly ravenous. "What did you get to eat?"

He chuckled. "Some things never change. It was always food first with you."

Mace opened the white sack, removing doughnuts and other breakfast items. He was seemingly unaware of the fondness in his voice, butDevonstopped cold.

Nostalgia and longing hit her with the force of a blow. Blinking back the sudden sting of tears, she took the food from him. Marilee had been right to ask ifDevonand Mace had talked about reconciliation.

For the first time in over a year,Devonadmitted to herself what she'd been running from. As much as the pain of her father's murder, she'd been fleeing from the horror of what she'd done to Mace.

And now she wanted him back. As well as the whole issue of his job,Devonknew there was a bigger hurdle to clear. She had destroyed Mace's trust in her and she didn't know if she could ever earn it back.



Chapter 10

«^

Tension prickled in the room, sharp with danger and awareness and allure. It wasn't just the knowledge that they'd been found once and could be again. It was the full-blown realization that her life was in danger. And she could be spending her last minutes with Mace.

The temptation to curl up beside him and pretend none of this was happening overwhelmed her. But itwas happening and she had to deal with it.

Minutes stretched into hours as they waited for the phone to ring, and when it finally did,Devoncouldn't bear to listen to Mace's taut voice. She got up and went into the bathroom.

"Dev?" Mace rose from the bed, alarmed at her suddenly pale features.

"I'm fine," she assured him before closing the door.

"Okay, gotcha." He spoke quietly toO'Kelly , explaining how they'd been found and where they'd run to, all the while wondering ifDevonwas really all right. "So have you come up with anything?"

"Not yet."O'Kelly's voice lowered. "We're still working our way through the list of PD employees."

"Look at everyone. Hell, check out the secretaries."

"Will do. I'll get back to you ASAP."

Mace hung up the cell phone and looked toward the bathroom door.Devonwas holding up admirably, but it was getting to her. Just like it was getting to him. He tried not to notice, but the pinched lines of her mouth and the shadows of fatigue under her eyes tugged at him.

Tension coiled in his shoulders until they ached. His head throbbed and his gut knotted with the instinct that the hammer of doom was about to fall.

And untilO'Kelly called back, he andDevonwere stuck here. Together.

They both needed a release. Of course, the most preferable way of doing that was impossible, and he quickly dismissed it.

He set the cell phone on the bedside table and glanced around the room. His gaze fell on the old money box that hung at the head of the bed and he grinned.

"Coming out anytime soon, Dev?" He dug into his jeans and popped a quarter into the box, grinning as he imagined her face when she finally emerged from the bathroom.

The bed bucked beneath him and his head slammed into the wall, but he quickly balanced himself and lay down, folding his arms behind his head. The bed shook and jiggled like a mechanical bull, but Mace relaxed his body and tried to appreciate that some of the kinks might be worked out of his neck.

Staring up at the mirrored tiles on the ceiling, be gave a bark of laughter at the jittery reflection bouncing back at him.

The bathroom door opened andDevonexclaimed over the annoying squeak of the bed. "Mace! What are youdoing?"

"Thought I'd try this bed." He jounced around like rock in a cement mixer. "Never tried one before."

She grinned, tension melting from her face. Her eyes sparkled with that old familiar light that had always set his blood to humming. "Garrett, you're crazy!"

"Hop on." He patted the spread beside him. "You might like the ol' rock-o-rama."

She arched a dubious brow at the wiggling, jiggling contraption,then chuckled. "You're the kinky one, not me."

"Never know 'til you try it." He grinned, astonished at the joy bubbling up inside him. Man, he'd missed her!

He missed making her laugh, making her eyes turn dark with need for him, making her moan low in her throat for him. "Come on," he coaxed, knowing he shouldn't. "You'll never forgive yourself if you miss this opportunity."

As he slid around like unset Jell-O, she laughed, a rich, full sound that made him respond in kind.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?"

He reached up and snagged her wrist to tug her down beside him. "Hah! I'm not the only one."

"Mace!" She landed on her stomach, and raspberry velvet bunched beneath them. Her arm brushed his and their thighs entwined. Color flushed her neck and cheeks as she quickly disentangled herself from him and scooted a few inches away.

It wasn't far enough to erase the scent of honeysuckle shampoo or forestall the occasional slide of silky hair against his arm. Mace swallowed, his body starting a low, heavy throbbing. "Hey, you better hang on. I thinkit's speeding up."

Latching on to the velvet bedspread she grinned up athim, and his breath caught at the sheer pleasure in her eyes. "Well, aside from not being able to think"

"Or hear," he interjected loudly, over the annoying creak of the machine.

She grinned. "I guess it's not so bad. Although I don't see how you could make loveer, do anything else while it was on."

Her cheeks colored at the slip, but Mace pretended not to notice, even though his gut knotted up and heat slid under his skin.

He'd want nothingso jarring as this bed to get in the way of feeling her satiny skin against his, her lips sparking needles of heat wherever they touched, her body welcoming him home.

He shut off those thoughts. They'd only get him on a course to trouble, considering they were going to be stuck in here alone most of the day.

The bed gave a final jiggle and groaned to a stop. In the sudden silence,Devonlaughed, holding her stomach. "That's the goofiest thing I've ever seen. You always could make me laugh."

He grinned and pushed himself up, so that he leaned against the wall.

Her gaze followed him and her laughing eyes sobered. "Did you talk toO'Kelly ?"

"Yeah. Looks like we're going to be here for a while longer."

"No more vibrating bed!" she pleaded with a pained smile. She pushed herself to a sitting position and shoved her dark hair out of her face.

He grinned. "No more rock-o-rama."

She laughed softly, her gaze meeting his. "So tell me whatO'Kelly said."

"They're going to pick up one of the guys you described. They've been watching him since we left town."

"Do they think he's the one who cut my brake lines?"

"Not sure. Probably not."

"What happens after they pick him up?"

"You go in, make a positive ID."

She swallowed, nodding.

Mace moved off the bed, anxious to get away from the heat of her, the scent of her that tempted him to reach across and pull her to him.

"So we wait some more?"

"Yep." He kept his voice even, but tension lined his face. Automatically he checked his Glock,then double-checked to make sure his extra fifteen-round clips were filled. The .357 lay nestled safely in his duffel, just in case, and his .32 Walther rested snugly in his ankle holster just inside the top of his boot.

She surged up from the bed, her shoulders stiff. "Seems like all we've done is wait."

"I know," he said softly.

She chewed at her bottom lip,then met his gaze, her eyes uncertain. "You're not still mad about me calling Mom, are you?"

"We'll deal with it, Dev. Try not to worry."

She grimaced and turned away, pacing back and forth in front of the television.

He dug into his duffel for the pack of cards he always carried. "Wanna watch TV?"

Her lips quirked. "You're kidding, right?"

"We can play cards, if you want."

"Gin?"

She knew he preferred poker, so he pretended to hesitate. "Oh, all right."

She smiled and moved back to the bed, sitting on the edge and curling one leg under her. "You know, Garrett, seeing how at ease you are in this room, I've really got to wonder about that job of yours."

"How so?" He sat across from her, drawing up his knees and leaning against the wall.

"Well" She glanced around, her stare lingering pointedly first on the television, then the change box. "Just how many of these hotels have you been in?"

He chuckled as he dealt. "That's a little personal, don't you think?"

She smiled,then smothered a yawn. Throwing out a card, she asked for another.

They played several hands. Outside, semis roared past on the highway. From a few doors down, Mace could hear the dim hum of voices from new clientele. The only sounds in the room were the occasional creak of the bed when one of them moved and the low murmurs as they asked for another card.

A feeling of unease nagged at Mace. As they played cards, he went over what he knew about the case.Which wasn't much at the moment. It didn't help that he had to keep dodging thoughts ofDevon, memories born of regret.

His gut knotted at thoughts of her boyfriend, and he told himself it was just plain jealousy. There was no denying he wanted to smash in the guy's face every time he thought about the guy touching her, but this insistent burn in his gut hinted at something deeper than jealousy.

He glanced up, his gaze tracing her features. A slight frown puckered her brow and her tongue peeked out as she concentrated on her hand. She was so beautiful.

A wave of longing hit him. They would never be together again. Not like this. Not any other way. They'd reached a silent truce, an unspoken understanding that they would move on. And they would.

Even so, he couldn't stop himself. "So, what's your boyfriend like?"

Her gaze snapped up and her eyes widened. "Mace"

"Sorry." He gave a quick shake of his head. "Let me rephrase that. Are you happy?"

The wariness left her eyes and they softened. His gut clenched and he gripped his cards so tightly the edges cut into his skin.

He glanced down. "I just want to know that you're happy with him.That things are good."

"Of course they" She broke off and took a deep breath, laying down her cards. "Truth?"

He nodded, his heart banging in his chest.

"Lately, I don't know what I think about him. I like him. He's sweet, courteous, gentle, fun. But there's just something I don't know." She smiled, and it kicked Mace right in the gut. "Let's just say he wouldn't be able to make me laugh by turning on a vibrating bed.

"Maybe we're still getting to know each other. Or maybe I'm just not ready to commit to that kind of relationship again."

Her gaze was steady, but also uncertain. He could see that it cost her to be so honest with him. Despite telling himself not to, his heart leapt with hope. But they'd been here before and he wouldn't let himself be drawn in again.

Even so, he couldn't stop his next words, either. "I can't imagine you with anyone else. Even now."

Her gaze held his for a long momentpleading or searching, he wasn't sure which. "Mom says you've been dating some?" He could tell by the uneven timbre of her voice how difficult the question had been for her.

Except for her, there was no one in his past. No one he cared about. Or even remembered. He wasn't proud of that, but there it was. He wanted to ignore her question, but she'd been honest with him.

And this might really be their last chance to say their final goodbyes to the past, to make peace with what they'd lost. As much as he wanted things to be different between them, he wanted more to know that she would be happy. He read that same desire in her eyes and realized she wanted the same for him.

He shrugged. "There've been a few." But none like you. He didn't say it; he wouldn't. He wouldn't cross the line with her again.

Their gazes held for a moment, both rich with memories of what had been and never would be again. Finally Mace folded his cards and put them back in their ragged box. "You might want to try and get a little rest. We'll probably leave as soon as we hear fromO'Kelly ."

She pushed her cards over to him. "I don't think I could sleep. I'm too wound up."

"Okay. I think I'll give it a shot, though."

He knew she hadn't gotten any sleep last night, and purple shadows rimmed her eyes, but he wouldn't push her. He stretched out across the top of the bed, his head toward the bedside table so he could easily grab the cell phone whenO'Kelly called. And so he could keep an eye on the door.

Devonstretched out as well, but with her head close to his knees. She lay there for long minutes, staring blankly at the wall behind him until finally she closed her eyes.

* * *

He had dozed as well. When he woke, the sun had faded to a dull red and was turning steadily darker with the coming night. Mace rubbed his eyes, careful not to disturbDevon. She'd been asleep for quite some time now.

In repose, the tightness around her mouth eased, and though she still looked tired, she didn't appear as frail as she had earlier. Her black hair fell across her face, and he reached out a careful finger to gently move the strands. The silky lock immediately fell back onto her cheek.

He left it, his hand resting close to her face. His gaze traced over her ivory features as he recalled that soft light in her eyes when she'd confided in him about Josh. Strangely, Mace hadn't felt any satisfaction at all about her misgivings, simply a wish that she would find what she sought.

She shifted on the bed and he drew back his hand.

Her eyes fluttered,then opened. Soft and drowsy, they focused on him. A slow, unguarded smile curved her lips. "Hi," she whispered.

She was wearing that sexy, vulnerable look she'd always worn after they'd made love. Her silver-green eyes clouded with desire and Mace's gut tightened. His blood hummed with an answering want.

He leaned toward her. A warning clanged in his head, but he refused to acknowledge it. She lifted her face to his and their lips touched softly, briefly, a gentle nudge that rocked him down to his toes.

Straining for control, he told himself to stop even as he opened his mouth a little wider over hers, wanting to coax her to him. Pure liquid heat streamed through him. She smelled of toothpaste and honeysuckle shampoo and tasted like a sultry summer night.

She gave an involuntary moan in the back of her throat and he hardened in a flash. Even if he'd wanted to stop, which he didn't, there was no way. Desire sawed through him and his blood heated.

This would lead nowhere. He knew it, yet he couldn't stop.He wouldn't stop.

Near his head, the phone rang.

Devonjerked away, her eyes wide and dark with passion and uncertainty.

"Damn." He called himself all kinds of a fool. He reached behind him for the cell phone on the night table, flipped up the receiver and barked, "What?"

"Move at dark."O'Kelly spoke low and fast. "Don't wait. We tried to pick up Terry Carroll, but the guy split just before we got there."

Mace jackknifed to a sitting position; across from himDevonslowly pushed herself up, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Dread settled in Mace's gut. "Anything on the leak?"

"Nothing solid. I'm looking at both secretaries in Special Projects."

"Good. I hope something pans out. Soon." The pressure of being closed in withDevonwas getting to him. It didn't help thatO'Kelly was following up the leads, not Mace. "All right. We're moving."

Devonedged closer to him, close enough that Mace could feel her heat, her fear. He wanted to reach for her, but kept his hands clenched at his sides.

O'Kellyprodded. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"Hey, I'm on a secure line."

"Maybe back to the cabin since they've already been there and probably won't return. Plus I know the sheriff there. I'll be able to get some backup if I need it."

Devon's eyes darkened with alarm and Mace gave her a thumbs-up sign for reassurance.

"That's probably a good idea. I'll be in touch as soon as I know something."

"Right." Mace hung up and metDevon's somber gaze. "They tried to pick up one of the guys youID'd , but he was gone."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he probably had word the cops were coming after him."

"So now what?"

"We move at dark, in about another hour."

She licked her lips, her face pale once again, all traces of their earlier humor missing from her eyes. "Back to the cabin?"

"I think so." Mace squeezed her shoulder. "Unless I come up with a better idea between here and there."

She gave him a wan smile and scooted off the bed, reaching for her overnight bag.

Mace stared at her shoulders, so thin, so fragile looking even though he knew their deceptive strength. He pulled the .357 out of his duffel and moved behind her. "I want you to take this."

She turned, her gaze snagging on the gun. "No. I don't even know how to use it."

"I want you to carry it, just in case."

"Just in case? Mace"

"I'll feel better knowing you have it, Dev."

She swallowed, staring at the piece in his hand as if it might bite her. "I don't think I'd be able to use it."

"That's all right. Just take it." He placed the gun in her hand. "Please. For me?"

A sigh escaped her and uncertainty shadowed her features. "Oh, all right."

She checked the safety as Mace had taught her,then lay it gingerly on top of her things before zipping the bag.

He knew how she hated being reminded of the dangers of his job, but her cooperation sparked a warm pride inside him. "You're doing great,Devon. Just hang on a couple of more days. Think you can do that?"

She turned to face him, and there was something new in her eyes, something tentative, yet determined. "Yes. As long as you're with me."

She hadn't meant anything by that, not really. She would've said that to anyone who happened to be with her, any cop. Still, hope struggled to new life inside Mace's chest, and no matter what he told himself, he couldn't quite squash it this time.

* * *

Mace opened the hotel-room door, ready to load the bags into the car, when the phone rang. Not his cellular one, but the room phone.

Devon's gaze, suddenly apprehensive, shot to his.

Moving quickly, he grabbed the phone as it rang a second time. "Hello?"

"Yes, Mr. MaceI mean, Mr. Garrett?"

He recognized the nasal twang of the hotel owner. "Mr. Corley, that you?"

"Yessir." The man's voice was muffled, and Mace could picture him covering the receiver with his hand. "Them guys you said were coming for you? Theywas here. I sent 'em to Room 1 like you asked."

"Excellent. I'm checking out now, but I'll leave the rest of your money on the television."

"All right. That's good."

"Thanks." Mace hung up the phone, his blood sizzling,anticipation skittering through him. "We've got to move, Dev. Now."

"Are they here?"

"Somebody is." Mace peered through the raspberry drapes and saw two men enter the room directly across fromtheir's . "And it's notO'Kelly ."

"Mace?"

"It's okay, but we've got to move fast." He turned, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. "The car is close. I'll cover you as you get in."

He picked up his duffel and she followed suit, grabbing her overnight bag. Opening the door a few inches, Mace plastered himself against the wall and peered around the door frame to watch the room across from his. The men hadn't turned on the lights, but he could make out vague shadows in the twilight as they moved about the room. "Come on, Dev."

She waited beside him, her breathing heavy and low. He could feel the trembling in her arms and legs, but she didn't lean against him.

"When I tell you, walk quickly to the car, closest side. Get in and get down."

She nodded, her gaze meeting his in the darkness. In the dim light, her eyes were huge and frightened. With his foot, he eased open the door. "Okay."

Just as she moved forward, one of the men appeared in the doorway of Room 1.

"No,Devon!" Mace yanked her back inside just as a gunshot cracked the air. "Hell!"

She stumbled against the wall, dropping her bag. "What's going on?" He knelt next to the open door, taking cover behind the wall. "Get down! They've seen us."

She gasped, but did as he ordered, flattening herself on the floor.

Mace peered around the door frame and saw the man who had fired moving toward their room. Another gunshot cracked the air and a bullet plowed into the door, spraying splinters and paint.

Devonscreamed. Mace aimed and squeezed the trigger. He hit the guy in the shoulder, and the man rolled to the ground, taking cover behind a late-model truck. The second man sprinted out of the room, firing. Bullets whizzed past Mace and he cursed.

He hopedDevonwas staying put like he'd told her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her crawl under the bed. Good girl, he praised silently.

He fired at the man now running and dodging across the parking lot, taking cover behind a car, then a pickup truck, then the massive wheels of a semi.

Mace lay on his belly, watching as the first man crawled under a truck and towardO'Kelly's car. Mace fired repeatedly at him. The guy jerked, then lay still.

From the next room, the door slammed open. "Hey, what the hell is going on? Some people are trying to work here!"

Mace turned, leveling his gun at a woman with bleached blond hair, smeared crimson lipstick and a filmy, sequined robe. "Police! Get back!"

She yelped like a spanked puppy, her heavily made up eyes widening as she slammed the door.

Mace scanned the parking lot. The guy he'd shot lay motionless, his chest a mass of red. Where was the other bastard?

Three shots in rapid succession peppered the door above Mace's head. He fired in the direction of the gunshots, his gaze zeroing in on the source.

He heard nothing behind him. "Dev, you okay?"

A muffled "yes" was his answer.

"Stay put."

Grabbing another clip from his pocket, he popped out the empty one and shoved in the new one. The guy was behind a truck now, and darkness enveloped the parking lot. One meager floodlight, located at the back of the office, shed very little light at this distance.

Senses screaming, Mace moved out onto the asphalt, keeping low to the ground, angling toward the truck.

The guy popped up like a damn jack-in-the-box, getting off four shots. Mace dove underO'Kelly's car, scraping his elbow. He could only see the guy's feet, so he pumped a couple of bullets in that direction, forcing him to move.

His other clip dug into his hip as he inched along under the car. He felt the comforting bite of his ankle holster, which held his .32 Walther. The other guy broke into a sudden run, sprinting across the parking lot toward a dark sedan. Mace fired. Bullets whizzed past him, bouncing off the car, scraping paint and screeching into brick behind him.

More shots cracked hollowly in the twilight air. Mace glanced back, saw bullets drill into their motel door then the wall. A bullet pinged into the metal change box on the bed.

"Devon!" Mace yelled. "Stay down!"

He vaguely registered the sounds of screams and slamming doors, the annoying blare of a television several doors down.

Theman reached the sedan and yanked open the passenger-side door, diving inside. Mace rose to his knees, squeezing off shot after shot. The car started and peeled out of the parking lot, disappearing into the darkness.

Mace sucked in deep gulps of air. His chest hurt and adrenaline buzzed through him. He surged to his feet and backed toward the hotel room, checking to make sure that the other man still lay motionless on the asphalt.

He became aware ofthe swoosh of trucks passing on the highway, the dim blare of music, a constant squeak from the room next door.

He slid his Glock back into his shoulder holster and stepped inside the room. The damn bed, set off by a stray bullet, rocked as if it were having a seizure.

"Devon?" He scanned the room, but there was no sign of her. "Devon?" Getting on his knees, he peered under the bed. She wasn't there.

He scrambled over the vibrating bed and stopped in front of the closed bathroom door. Bullet holes pocked the curling paint and his blood stopped cold in his heart. Fear slashed through him. "Devon, honey.Devon!"

"I'm in here." She could barely get out the words. In the small bathroom, her voice seemed to boom in her ears. Though the actual shooting had stopped, she kept hearing the play of gunfire over and over and over.

The door was pushed open and she met Mace's worried gaze. His eyes widened as he spotted the .357 Magnum trained dead center on his chest. With a groan, she lowered the gun, her arms trembling.

He framed her face with his big hands. "Are you all right?"

"I think so."

He took the gun and placed it on the side of the tub, then his arms closed around her and he pulled her into him. He felt warm, so safe. For a few minutes, he held her,then moved away.

Her gaze tracked over him. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

His T-shirt was ripped and dirty with grease. His jeans bore traces of dirt, but he wasn't bleeding. He was whole.

The same longing and fierce need for reassurance that she felt fired his eyes, and for an instant she thoughthoped that he might kiss her. But he didn't. She ached for him to hold her, to cradle her in those strong arms like he had after Dad had died. To tell her everything was going to be all right.

But she didn't make a move toward him. Instead she rubbed at her arms, prickling with goose bumps, and asked, "What happened out there?"

"There were two of them. One's dead, one got away."

"I can't believe this." She shoved her hair away from her eyes, fighting down the nausea that threatened. She couldn't give out on Mace now. Not after what he'd been through.

He picked up the .357 and checked it, a grin slashing across his pale features. "Good girl. You put on the safety like I told you."

"It was about all I could remember."

He stared down at the gun in his hand,then looked at her. "Would you have used it?"

"I don't know." She shuddered. "I don't ever want to find out."

"We'd better go."

"To the cabin?"

"We'll see."

He held out a hand to her, and though she longed to go into his strong arms and lay her head on his chest, she simply put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her through the door. She picked up her overnight bag for the second time that evening and followed him to the car.

Bullet holes peppered the frame. Blue paint curled in spots down the side of the vehicle.

"Man,O'Kelly's gonna have my hide."

With a sickening drop of her stomach,Devonrealized how closely Mace had come to being injured. Or worse.

She turned to get into the car and spied the body of a man lying a few yards away. "Oh,my gosh ."

Mace moved to her side and opened the door. "Don't look. Just get in."

"But what are we going to do about him?"

"I'll call the sheriff on the way out of town."

She swallowed and, with a last look at the dead man, got into the car. Mace could've been killed. She could've been killed.

Fear, paralyzing before, now seared her like an electric jolt. Reaction set in, and before Mace had slid into the seat beside her, a chill invaded her bones, settled deep in her belly. She trembled.

Mace started the car,then glanced at her. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yes." But she shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't help you at all. You were out here getting shot at and all I could do was sit like a baby on the floor of that stupid bathroom."

"Devon, stop."

"I told you I'm no good at this. What if something had happened to you?"

"Babe, nothing did."

Her bruised heart ached. She wished she could belong to him again, that he could take her in his lap andreassure her just as he had after Dad had died. Just as he had tried to do when she had broken their engagement last year.

"Look at me,Devon," he commanded softly. She did, hungrily soaking in the details of himthe whisker stubble made darker by the shadows of the night, the soft gleam of his eyes,the strength of his hands on the wheel.

"I'm okay. So are you," he said in a calm voice. "Take a deep breath."

She did as he instructed, feeling boneless and confused and cold.

"Another one."

She latched on to his authoritative tone, focusing on the determination in his eyes, the confidence. He'd lived through this before. And now so had she.

Her trembling subsided, though she was still chilled.

"How do you do that? You're so calm."

"Not really, but I've done it before. You're doing great." He started the car.

She gave a bark of laughter. "Right."

"Devon, you handled it. And you handled it quite well." She couldn't mistake the pride in his voice, and her eyes widened as she stared at him.

"You think I did well at this?"

"You did."

His simple words igniteda brief warmth inside her and spurred the thought she'd refused to allow herself again. She loved him. Always had. Always would.

Her gaze lifted to his, and in the blue depths she read the same need for reassurance, the same want,the tender, banked embers of love.

Her heart ached for him, and as if she'd called him to her, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips.

Tears stung her eyes and she looked up at him, her body,her heart clamoring for more of him. His eyes clouded with doubt, with uncertainty, layers of want mixed with denial. He wanted her, too. But when he touched her it was only to thumb away a lone tear that tracked down her cheek.

"See? You're alive. And so am I."

She exhaled a deep breath. "Thank you. For saving my life."

He gave a crooked smile and her heart tugged. "Hey, it's my job."

Thank goodness, she thought for the first time. They drove out of the parking lot, andDevonreached deep inside herself for the store of strength that she was coming to believe she had.

She sat with her hands folded quietly in her lap until she thought she might cry from sheer nerves and the danger of their escape. Without speaking, she reached across and took his hand.

He stiffened as if he might pull away, then his fingers, warm and callused, laced with hers. They rode in silence to the lake.



Chapter 11

«^

Achill burrowed under her skin. The sound of gunshots still cracked in her ears as she relived the mind-numbing fear that she would emerge from the motel rest room to discover Mace dead. "How did they find us? I don't understand."

"I'm working on that," Mace said as they sped down the highway. "There's got to be a connection somewhere,"

They were headed back towardArbuckleLake. Mace released her hand and tugged his gun from his shoulder holster, placing it on the floor by his feet.

Some of his warmth had transferred to her, but the fear still sent chilly fingers skittering along her nerves. Restlessness churned through her; she could barely sit still, but if she thought about what had just happened, she'd start shaking and be unable to stop.

Mace tapped one long finger on the steering wheel. How had they been discovered? The only possible link between the two times they'd been found was the phone calls. But they hadn't been placed to the same place or the same locale. "It's got to be those calls."

"I said I was sorry about that,"Devonsnapped, her nerves still raw from the incident at the motel.

"Hey, I'm not blaming you." He glanced at her, a frown puckering his brow. "I'm just trying to find a connection."

But he wasn't getting one. Marilee andO'Kelly were the only contacts they'd made today. The previous phone call had been placed toDevon's boyfriend

Mace had to tellO'Kelly about what had just happened at the motel, anyway. Maybe his partner could help shed some light on the mystery. Mace picked up the cell phone from the console and flipped it open.

Devontouched his arm, concern edging through her. "Do you think Mom's okay?"

"Yes, but we can check on thatO'Kelly , it's me. We're out, but it didn't go like we planned. We were found somehow."

Devonlistened with growing dread as Mace recounted the incident at the motel. She didn't want to consider that her mother might be in danger, but how else could she and Mace have been discovered?

"I don't know if Devon's phone call to her mom was a tip-off or not, but I'd feel better if you'd get her out of the house, find someplace safe for her to stay."

"Oh, Mace, don't scare her,"Devonsaid.

"I'm afraid there might be a phone tap on her line."

She froze.A phone tap? Someone might have put a tap on her mother's phone? Fear clotted her throat.

"All right, thanks. Oh, one more thing. There's a body in the parking lot of the No-Tell Motel off I-35." He gaveO'Kelly the specific location. "Can you take care of it?"

Mace flashedDevona pained smile, holding the phone away from his ear. Even she could hearO'Kelly's voice, and she imagined he was expressing his opinion about the body Mace had left.

"Well, whoever wants to talk to me about it will have to take a number and wait in line. Thanks."

He hung up the phone and returned it to the console. "Your mom will be all right.O'Kelly will make sure."

"Thanks. Gosh,a phone tap . I hadn't even thought about that."

"We're going to check your phone, too."

Startled, she looked at him. The reality of the situation was unfolding in more and more grim horror by the minute.

Had she and Mom been in possible danger for longer than they'd even known about?

She stared out the window at the passing landscape as they approached theDavisexit. Sheer bluffs, polished naked by winds of theOklahomaplains, passed in a gray-white blur. Trees and sky merged. Dark specks beyond thewheatfields were cattle, butDevonhardly registered the fact.

She and Mace could easily have been killed back there. Now there was a possibility that Mom was in danger. Apprehension icedDevon's spine. She crossed her arms and sat silently in the car as the chill settled deeper, eventually leaving her body in blessed numbness.

* * *

Devonlooked aroundMicki's cabin cruiser and wondered why they hadn't thought of using the big boat before. "They'll never find us out here."

"Well, the chances are better."

Mace had gotten gas at a small convenience store in town and bought a few groceries. Despite the comforting numbness of her body,Devon's senses were surprisingly sharp and alert.

The smell of gasoline trailed in their wake. The stream of wind against her face, pleasantly cool, seemed to sting. They drove a few miles out onto the lake,then anchored in a quiet cove several hundred yards from the shore.

After sandwiches and soup, she'd made up the lone, full-size bed in the cabin while Mace cleaned the small galley kitchen.

Some ofDevon's fear had subsided, but not the chill inside. She doubted if she'd ever be warm again. Frustration and shock and disbelief still stirred within her.

She wanted to calmly carry on as Mace was doing, but she was jumpy, jittery,restless . She felt hollow and hot all at the same time. Alive yet disembodied.

It was aftermidnightwhen Mace suggested they get some sleep.

She stared over his shoulder at the gleam of the galley light on the small stove. "I don't think I can."

"I'll stay beside you the whole time." At her startled look, he added, "In the chair."

He pulled over a straight-backed chair and plopped down.

"Well" Not bothering to get undressed, she simply brushed her teeth and crawled between the cool sheets. Mace settled into the chair, andDevonfelt a pang of guilt that he would have to sleep in a chair for a second night.

His gaze caught hers. "We'reokay, Dev. Everything's going to be fine."

She nodded, determined not to tell him that she was terrified she'd have the nightmare. Easing down onto the bed, she lay facing Mace, one hand pillowing her cheek.

His gaze stayed steady on hers, but she couldn't relax enough to close her eyes. She kept hearing the repeat of the gunshots, kept seeing the body of the man in the parking lot, kept feeling the nauseating dread that Mace might have been killed. Her body throbbed, stinging as if electricity skidded across her skin.

"Here." Mace held out his hand, offering the presence and comfort of another human being. "Touch me. I'm okay. So are you."

She ran her fingers across his callused, warm palm,then grasped his hand fully with her own. Despite the security of being with Mace, she still felt the hollowness in her stomach, the chill eating away at her.

Ashamed that Mace felt he had to baby her, she tried to withdraw her hand. "You don't have to do that," she said stiffly. "I'm fine."

"Well, I'm not. I need to know that you're all right. We've both had a pretty rough night."

His words soothed her, encouraged her to share her feelings with him. She studied his eyes, trying to tell if he was coddling her or if he did truly need the same reassurance that she did. The knowledge that he'd been through this before encouraged her to let him help her. "I feel strange, Mace."

"How so?" He leaned forward, his hand still warm in hers.

"Jittery, but calm. Hot, like I touched a live wire, but empty, so empty. I keep hearing those shots, wondering if you're okay, if you're dead."

"I'm okay, Dev." He squeezed her hand. "See? And so are you."

Finally she relaxed into the mattress. He squeezed her hand again and settled back in the chair, not letting go.

Even though she was exhausted by fear and shockDevondidn't want to sleep. Eyes open, her hand wrapped warmly in Mace's, she could keep the nightmare at bay. It lurked at the edge of her mind, however, waiting for her.

But she was emotionally drained by their ordeal tonight and she finally felt herself drifting off. She tried to fight it with her flagging energy. She couldn't bear having the nightmare, not tonight.

She focused on Mace as he slept. His free hand rested on his taut belly and he was sprawled in the chair, legs spread apart, her hand cradled in his and resting on one thigh. Warmth flickered somewhere deep inside her.

Alone on the boat with him, away from the gunfire, she almost believed she was strong, that she could be what he needed. She almost believed that she'd earned his praise.

* * *

Something was wrong. The feeling jolted Mace into awareness. For a moment he was disoriented,then he registered the gentle sway of the boat, the lullaby of water lapping against the fiberglass.

His gaze settled on the bed.Devonwas gone.

His heartbeat slammed against his ribs. He pushed himself out of the chair, fighting panic even though he knew she had to be somewhere on the boat.

Automatically he picked up his Glock and crept up the stairs to the deck. Moonlight splashed across the wooden floor. She stood against the side of the boat, themidnightwind lifting and teasing strands of her short dark hair.

He laid the gun on a stair rung below him, his gaze tracking over her. Her T-shirt and shorts hung loosely on her body, but the occasional breeze molded her shirt to her high breasts, her taut waist,slender back. His gaze traveled hungrily over her, reassuring himself that she was all right, that she was here with him.

He visually tracked the length of her trim, toned legs and her tight butt. And as he constantly did of late, he battened down the hunger that roared to life inside him.

She wasn't crying, but her eyes were closed, her head slightly bowed. She gripped the side of the boat with hands that looked as pale as bleached flour.

With what had happened the last few days, she had to be frightened. Had to beterrified at the risk to their lives tonight. She'd handled it well, but when he'd wakened to find her gone, he was reminded of last night in the motel, when she'd bolted out of bed.

All their talk of guns, the close call they'd had tonight and her handling of Mace's weapon had probably triggered a nightmare. That had to be it. He didn't know how he knew, but he didn't question it.

He wanted to comfort her, but he recognized the danger of that. After such a close call today, he wanted to celebrate life with her in the most intimate way possible and he wasn't about to lay that on her.

He'd been through close calls before and recognized this craving for closeness for what it was, butDevonmight not. She had enough to deal with simply by what she'd witnessed tonight.

She turned then and saw him standing at the top of the stairs leading from the cabin. Moonlight gilded her pale skin and turned it to velvet cream. Shadows sharpened her cheekbones, yet softened her jaw and her lips. Her eyes were haunted and tortured.

Mace ached inside, but he stood wherehe was, knowing he shouldn't get close to her right now.

She laced her hands together and glanced down as if bracing herself. Her voice was rusty, vibrating with pain and fear. "I had the nightmare."

The nightmare. The one about her dad.He waited, clenching and unclenching his fist against the urge to go to her.

"I saw Dad on the floor, blood everywhere" Her voice broke and she looked up at Mace, her features totally bereft. Tears glistened in her eyes.

To hell with distance. In two strides, he reached her and opened his arms. She walked into them, burying her face against his chest and locking her arms tightly around him as if she'd never let go.

"I had the dream at the motel, too," she said in a muffled voice against his chest.

"I wondered." He rocked her, wishing fiercely that he could erase the memories for her. Or ease them somehow.

She lifted her head, her eyes so lost that his heart turned over. "Will they ever go away?"

"Yes."

Relief sketched her features and Mace's heart turned over. An ache arrowed through him.

"I wanted to be strong." Her breath burned his skin through his T-shirt. "Like you."

"You were."

"I hid in the bathroom like a coward."

"No." Mace tilted up her chin, forced her gaze to lock with his. "Taking cover was smart. You're not trained the way I am, Dev. You did the right thing."

"You could've been killed, while I did nothing," she said bitterly, her arms tightening around him.

"Youcould've been killed the other day in that wreck while I did nothing."

She stared at him, denial,then acceptance passing through her eyes. She sighed. "It's an awful feeling, isn't it?"

"The worst." He tightened his arms around her, rocking her against him. He wouldn't have let her go for anything, but having her pressed so tightly against him was slowly unraveling his self-control.

Her breasts, small and pert against his chest, burned into him. He could feel her taut nipples, and his blood hummed. Her hair brushed his nostrils, teasing him with honeysuckle. Heat from her body seeped into his and his muscles coiled with tension. He was as hard as the barrel of his .357.

Soon she would become aware of his arousal and withdraw, but for now he was free to hold her.

After a long moment, she relaxed in his arms and looked up at him. "Can we stay out here awhile?"

"Sure."

She moved out of his arms, and he fought down a biting sense of loss and frustration. He eased down to the floor of the boat and rested against the wall of the cabin.

He expected her to sit across from him, maybe beside him, but to his surprise, she sank gracefully between his legs and looked over her shoulder questioningly.

Even knowing he was opening himself up to a torturous kind of pleasure, Mace widened his legs and pulled her back against him.

He locked his arms around her and rested his chin on her head, creating a cocoon of warmth. The waves rocked them gently, the swaying motion causingDevon's bottom to slide against his arousal, tantalizingly swift each time, but painfully delicious. Memories nudged at him with the same gentle insistent pressure, but he blanked them out.

He was a fool, but he wasn't about to let go of her. Not now, even though he couldn't do what his body ached for him to do.

Hewouldn't run his hands up her rib cage and cup her breasts. Hewouldn't press a kiss to that spot behind her ear. Hewouldn't slip his hands down her thighs and between them to the moist heat he knew he'd find there. Hewouldn't touch her other than to keep his arms around her.

Even if he held her all night.

Even if it killed him.

Devonsat in the circle of Mace's arms and the old tension seeped out of her. A new tension crept in. She could feel every line of his hard body, the tempered steel of his chest against her back, the insistent heat of his arousal against her bottom. Reassurance, a sense of belongingshe felt those things, but as always when she was with Mace, she mostly felt safe.

She latched on to the feelings with a desperation born of necessity.

As always, her body responded to his, going warm and liquid. She wanted to move against him, wanted to see his eyes darken with passion for her. She'd never wanted this with Josh, never even wanted to get naked with him. Nor had she ever felt this certainty about Josh that she felt about Mace.

She knew who Mace was, the core of his honorable character. And she wanted him. But did he want her?

Physically he didshe could feel the proof of that against the small of her backbut in his heart?

Somehow, sitting in the cradle of his arms out in the middle of the lake, she felt strong enough to be the woman he needed. They had survived tonight, together, and for just a night, just amoment, maybe she could be what he required.

She turned slightly so she could see his face. He smiled, but she saw the agony of physical hunger in his eyes. She felt it in the rigid lines of his body. He didn't try to mask it, but he didn't act on it.

"Did I thank you for saving my life?"

"Only about fifteen times." He grinned. "If I get tired of hearing it, I'll let you know."

"Oh, you." She socked him playfully on the arm. "Thankyou, too, for saying I handled myself well tonight."

"I think you did, Dev. Youdo ."

She shifted so that she could see him more fully. "You've always believed in me."

"Sure," he said matter-of-factly.

"Much more than I've believed in myself."

He watched her, his gaze guarded and uncertain. His arms stayed loosely around her, but she could feel a sudden tension lash his muscles.

Her gaze traced the firm lips, the shadowed jaw, the blue eyes turned to crystal by the reflection of the moon on the water. "We were in danger of losing our lives tonight."

"Dev, you don't have to"

"Shh." She placed her fingers on his lips and thrilled at the sensation that shot up her arm. For the first time in over a year, she knew what she wanted, knew where she was going. "You face that kind of danger every day. I understand you better now, Mace. We made it through. Together."

He watched her, not moving other than to flex his fingers on her shoulders.

"I know who you are, Mace. And I learned a little more about who I am tonight." She sighed. "I'm so safe with you. I always have been."

His eyes were somber, his body rigid, features stoic. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted him to take away the cold, fill the hollowness that gnawed at her. Make her believe that she could be everything he needed.

He rasped, "How'd you get so strong?"

"Because of you."

"No."

"Yes." Her gaze moved slowly over his features, stroking them the way she longed to with her hands, lingering on his lips. "Your strength gives me strength. It's the only way I could've survived tonight."

Tension vibrated in his muscles, and she realized suddenly that he held himself so rigidly because of her. She wanted to thaw that icy control, recapture what they'd once shared.

She lifted a hand to his face, running her fingers lightly over his stubbled jaw and chin. Wariness passed through his eyes, but it couldn't mask the hunger, the raw need there.

He wanted her, but he wouldn't act on it, wouldn't risk that she might reject him again. Her heart ached with regret.

"I know what's going on, Dev." He gripped her wrist, removing her hand from his face. "You're feeling the effects of tonight. You want to be reassured that you're okay, that we're both okay."

"I don't know about that. I only know that I want you." She ran her fingers over his lips and he swallowed, grasping her wrist to stay her movements.

"This isn't a good idea. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm turned on as hell right now"

"Then what's the problem?" She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his temple.

For a long moment he was completely still. His heart hammered against hers. She could feel the ragged rhythm of his breath caress her neck. His muscles were quivering.

His hands tightened on her waist as if to push her away and his voice was like velvet over gravel. "I've held off touching you, because I don't think you really want this. I'm not sure I do, either."

She eased up onto his lap, sliding one arm around his neck. "I do want it, Mace.' "

Surprise and uncertainty widened his eyes. He wished he had the strength to move away from her, but his restraint was worn clean through. "I think we're going to regret this."

"I'm not." She could see he wasn't going to kiss her so she pressed a soft kiss to his temple, then the crest of his cheek. "I'd never regret it."

His arm tightened around her and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her right hand. She pressed a trail of tiny kisses down one side of his face to the corner of his lips.

He caught her chin and forced her gaze to his. "You've got to be sure," he said hoarsely. "Are you?"

"Absolutely. I want you and I know you can make me warm again."

A warning clanged in his mind. She was feeling exactly as he'd suspected. He tried to pull away, but she brushed her lips against his. His heart overruled his reason. He'd wanted her for so long. How could he reject her, even knowing there was no future in it? Why should he?

She wanted him. He wanted her. He refused to consider that his oversimplification hid a deep, intense sense of desperation. He'd never have her again. Why not one last time?

He tilted her face up to his and captured her lips. Want pulled deep in his belly at the contact; triumph surged through him. At last she was his again, even if only for a brief time.

He lifted his head, whispering her name.

"Oh, Mace." She bent her forehead to his,then kissed him again. She gave herself up to the deep, dark taste of him.

One strong hand braced herback, the other gently framed her face. His kiss deepened, his tongue skimming over her teeth, stroking the moist heat of her mouth. His tongue rasped over hers like hot dark velvet.

She had never felt the urge to make love with Josh. She'd existed quite happily without sex for the last year, and now she knew why. She'd been waiting for Mace.

Urgency flared within her. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body, the supple leather of his skin next to hers. Tearing her mouth away, she yanked off her shirt, then shimmied out of her shorts and knelt before him clad only in her bra and panties.

She reached for his shirt, and he helped her pull it over his head. But when she moved to the top button of his jeans, he grabbed her hands.

"No. Not this fast."

"But"

"Don't rush it, Dev," he rasped. "Make it last as long as we can." He grinned crookedly and she smiled shyly in return, anticipation coiling in a tight knot low in her belly, throbbing between her legs.

He turned her to face him until she straddled his lap, her most vulnerable place now open to him. "I thought I'd never see you like this again," he growled raggedly against her throat.

Her blood heated; anticipation flicked along her nerves. She wanted him to touch her, ached for it, but for long seconds he simply looked at her.

Then with one finger he traced the left strap of her bra. He halted at the swell of her breast and repeated the procedure from the top of her right strap. She followed his gaze as he looked at her, watching as he studied the sheer lace. His gaze burned with awe, as if he'd never seen her before and never would again.

His gaze locked on her breasts, her nipples barely revealed through the transparent lingerie, and as she watched, they peaked, just by a look from him.

Her breathing quickened and moist heat exploded between her legs. She moaned, and at the sound, his eyes burned fiercely. But she could still see banked uncertainty in his eyes, feel it in the restrained movements of his body. She wanted him to surrender to hertotallyas she was to him.

Wanting to get closer, to feel his skin against hers, she braced her hands on his chest, lightly so she could flex her fingers against the supple play of muscle and skin and sinew.

"I've missed you, Mace." She nuzzled his lips, wanting to taste him, wanting him to touch her with his hands, his tongue the way he used to. A sense of rightness unfolded within her.

He splayed his hands around her waist and ran them up to the curve of her breasts. "You've lost weight."

"You should be glad," she countered languidly, nipping at his ear, his neck, "since I'm sitting on top of you."

He grinned, his teeth a wicked slash of white in the darkness.

She kissed him again, searching out his tongue with her own, stroking the rough velvet until liquid warmth eddied between her legs. She moved her hands into his hair, steadying herself, loving the feel of the silk waves on her hands, the warmth of his scalp.

His hands slid up her back, then around to her ribs and upward, unhooking her bra. The flimsy undergarment fell away and he cupped her breasts, his large hands tender and dark against her pale skin. Her nipples pouted for him, dark rose in the moonlight.

"How can you be even more beautiful?" He bent and placed a soft kiss on the swell of each breast.

Her breath caught. Something inside her shifted, as if a piece of her had been loose and only now returned to its place. She pressed him to her, fighting back tears. "Oh, Mace."

His warm lips closed over her nipple, tonguing the already turgid peak into throbbing awareness. She shifted on his lap, seeking to get closer to him, seeking relief from the tension that pounded through her in a low cadence.

He had dreamed of her, ached for this. His hands and lips moved over the satin fullness of breasts that felt familiar, yet somehow sparked the anticipation of something new. He knew the silky textures of the skin on her nape and her back, but they were revealed to him in vivid sensation as he moved his hands over her, tasted her with his tongue.

She wanted to touch him, but could only grip his shoulders as he moved his lips to the other breast. His fingers skimmed down her belly, lightly tracing a line above her lace panties.

She pressed hard against his straining erection, wanting all barriers between them removed. His hand stroked to the small of her back and he slid his hands inside her panties, pushing them down. She lifted so he could take them off, then she sank back down onto him, his jeans rough and heavy against her bare skin, his heat pressing against her.

He cupped her bottom in his big hands and his muscular thighs quivered beneath her. She reached for his mouth again, needing the contact, the fusion with him. His tongue deliberately toyed with her, eliciting a rush of warmth between her legs.

She trembled. Reason became clouded and she welcomed the fact. She wanted only to feel warm inside, safe,secure . She knew Mace could do that for her.

His hands stroked over her bottom, then the insides of her thighs, caressing her skin reverently. One long finger tested her,then slid inside. She bucked, moaning his name.

He stroked her, coiling a knot of fire-sharp tension low in her belly. She found herself moving with the rhythm of his hand, wanting to wait for him, yet powerless to slow the response of her body.

Clutching at his arms, which strained with control, she threw back her head and surrendered to the searing wind that reached for her. Jolt after jolt crashed through her body. As though she were starved and thirsty for his touch, her body blossomed like a drought-bitten field.

She opened for him, moaning his name and pressing against his finger. Her world tilted. Needing balance, she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

His other hand fumbled at his jeans, and somehow he managed to get them open and push them down. She helped, vaguely aware of doing so. She was desperate to feel him inside her, to merge their bodies the way they used to. Mace would drive away the cold, the emptiness.

"I'm safe," she gasped, barely able to remember to tell him.

"Me, too."

She was barely aware of the pause before his palms, slick with sweat, steadied her hips, and she sank down onto him. He filled her, and for a brief, fleeting instant it was enough.Mace . Light showered through her. She was home.

Then he began to move.

Devonthrew back her head, holding tight to him as they moved together. She felt as if she were speeding high above the earth, racing for the moon as he thrust into her with a steady, measured rhythm that snatched her breath and erased all thought. The stars seemed to explode over their heads.

She was aware only of Mace's labored breathing, the feel of his shoulders beneath her hands, the musky soap scent of him. His lips moved over her and she felt the scratch of whisker stubble on her breasts and neck before his lips claimed hers again.

Her legs tightened around his trim flanks. They moved faster now, both reaching for the moon. She was on the edge of release when he buried his face in her neck and climaxed.

Only then did the last of his restraint disappear. Only then did he surrender to her as she had to him.

At the realization, her inner muscles convulsed and hot silk rained through her. "Oh, Mace."

I know, Dev. I know. Overwhelmed by the sharp stab of love in his chest, the regret of what they'd lost, he couldn't speak.

The ache, carried in his heart since she'd left, eased, assuaged by this deep, basic connection with her. But how long before it returned to burrow, low and biting, into his gut again?

Breathless, they held on to each other, their hearts echoing a ragged rhythm that gradually slowed.

She stroked his shoulders, his back. Her breasts cushioned his chest. Sweat slicked their bodies and the scent of their lovemaking nestled between them.

For a few minutes they looked up at the stars. Devon lay her head on his shoulder and gave herself over to the peaceful rocking of the boat, the sense of completeness that washed over her as Mace cradled her close, whispering her name.

At last she was warm. She was filled. She was home.



Chapter 12

«^

Early morning sunlight peeked through the slatted shutters and slid over her skin, gilding it to a pearly sheen. They lay spoon-fashion, her back to his front, in the cabin's full-size bed, where he'd carried her after she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

After he'd sworn not to touch her, he'd made love to her.

She'd only made love with him because she wanted to feel safe, needed to be reassured that shetheywere all right after the incident at the motel. And Mace had needed it, too. Still, he cautioned himself not to make it more than that. A mutual caring, a mutual comfort. That was all.

But her soft scent mingled with his, and his body grew hard again with the feel of her. He wanted to drown in her sweet warmth, let the pleasure of their bodies erase his regrets, the ache that hadn't quite eased deep inside him.

Her firm bottom pressed into his arousal and his arm rode her waist. He couldn't stop touching her, thumbing the velvet peak of her breast, stroking the satin of her belly.

After all this time, the ache of missing her should've abated. But even making love with her last night had only assuaged it for a while.

"Mmm."Devonshifted against him, sending a pleasant tingle to his growing arousal.

Torn between wanting her and knowing he should put some distance between them, Mace's hand stilled on her breast.

She turned toward him and lay there quietly, her palms stroking his arms. Easing up, she pressed a soft long kiss on his lips, and desiretautened his belly. But she wouldn't meet his gaze, and he knew then that she felt the same doubts he did.

His erection throbbed. They should probably talk about what had happened last night. He knew she'd wanted to be reassured after that close call at the No-Tell Motelso had hebut being with her last night had been about more than comfort sex.

Last night had not only shaken him, it had renewed him and made him believe that making love with her would resolve the differences between them. In the glaring light of day, he realized how wrong he had been. Still he couldn't make himself relinquish this feeling of being reborn, of being infused with warmth when he'd lived in coldness since she'd left.

She rested her head on his arm, which lay on the pillow above her. Her eyes, cloudy with sleep and desire,glowed a clear silver-green. Suddenly they widened. "I slept!"

He chuckled, squeezing her. "I'll say."

"I didn't have the nightmare!"

He stroked strands of dark hair away from her cheek and mouth. "That's good, isn't it?"

"It's because of you." She snuggled into him, her breasts nudging his chest, her hands roaming over his shoulders.

At her trust, that phantom hope flared in his chest again. He grinned and wished they could go back. "That's because you were too worn-out to have nightmares."

"I've thought before that they were gone, but"

He felt goose bumps rise on her flesh and he hugged her tight.

"Sometimes I think they're just waiting for me."

Her arms locked around him and she buried her face in his neck, her breath misting his skin. Mace wanted to hide her away, protect her from all of it. At the same time, his head was urging him to protect himself. Doubt surfaced once more.

She wants you, but for how long this time?The thought wound through him, over and over.

Her voice was muffled. "Thanks for being there for me last night. I wanted to be with you." She looked up at him then and he saw the uncertainty that mirrored his own. She was nomore sure than he about what they'd done. "Making love with you made me feel safe and helped me forget."

Disappointment stabbed his heart. She had only needed him to hold the fear at bay. But hadn't he found comfort in her, too? And they both knew that as soon asO'Kelly called, they'd head back toOklahoma Cityand their separate lives.

Her hands moved over him in a studied desperation. Her eyes darkened with a near plea for him to take her, to make everything disappear.

"I know there's still the matter of the trial, but I can do it. I know I can."

Her fierce vow tugged at his heart. He could hear the self-doubt beneath her words and he suddenly wanted to pilot this boat into the sunset and never look back. But that wasn't fairnot to Bill, whose killers needed to be caught, and not toDevon, who still had something to prove to herself.

Her hold on him slackened and she moved her hands to his face, caressing his jaw. In her gray-green eyes, he read invitation and hunger and a fierce need. The same need pulsed through him even though his head urged him to ignore it.

Her hand slid into his hair, guiding his mouth to hers. "Make love to me, Mace."

His gut knotted and his hand flexed on her waist. He was sure it wasn't smart. He knew he'd probably regret it later, but her breath whispered against his lips and sweet memories tapped against his heart. His lips covered hers.

Opening wider for him, she touched her tongue to his tentatively, revealing the same hesitation he felt. Want pulled tight in his belly. After a long, drugging kiss, Mace raised his head, his fingers stroking her cheek.

Warmth webbed around them, cocooning them in a private world that made it easy to forget what he should do. Her breasts nudged his chest and his legs were hot and hair roughened against her smooth ones.

He shifted and his arousal grew harder against her thigh. She angled toward him, slipping her leg between his, inviting him back to her, to what they'd shared last night.

He found he couldn't turn away from her. Right now, they had this moment. Still his head and body warred.

Reading his hesitation,Devonreached beneath the sheet and caressed his throbbing length. Doubt along with desire sharpened his eyes. She knew Mace was afraid to open himself up to her again, that he was hoping against hope, as she was,that things had changed for them.

She wanted to believe thingshad changed, wanted to ask if they could try again, but self-doubt still pricked at her. Could she be what he needed? For the rest of their lives? She never wanted to hurt him again, and being uncertain ofherself could tear them both apart.

She slid her hand down the velvet heat, gently measuring him. He hardened in her hand and she laughed softly, uncertainly. "Yes?"

In answer, his hands moved into her hair and he tilted her face to his. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, mimicking the act his body longed to make inside hers. He pulled back from her, staring down at her lips, moist from his.How long can I keep you this time, Dev? How long before you walk away?

She seemed to sense that he was on the verge of withdrawal. She pressed her fingers over his mouth, the light dimming in her eyes. "Just love me. Please?"

Damn logic, anyway. He moved so that his body half-covered hers, and she welcomed him, her thighs opening to cradle him, her arms wrapping tight around him.

She looked up at him, her eyes misted with a loneliness that pierced his heart. Was she telling him goodbye? Or hello?

An urgency, a desperation spiraled through him, as if he knew he should take her quickly before common sense caught up to his heart again.

He wanted to stroke every inch of her, make her moan for him, take his time the way he had last night, but a sudden frenzy took him. His lips skimmed over her face, her neck,her breasts. He inhaled the scent of woman and honeysuckle, storing it away.

His hands stroked and moved over her in a furious quest to memorize, to capture the essence ofthem together and tuck away the memory for the future of long, hellish nights.

He wanted to take her, lose himself completely in her and, with the act, change the realities that bore down upon them with the relentless force of an approaching tornado. He tried to deny that his heart was split wide open, lying at her feet and waiting for her to pick it up and make him whole again. Running from himself, wanting to exist only in the moment, he reached for her, sliding one finger between her legs.

She was wet and waiting for him, moving her hands over him with the same desperate abandon. Spurred on by a compulsion he barely understood, he pushed her legs apart and lifted her hips to him. He thrust inside her, his gut caving at the tight, slick feel of her. Then something inside him stilled.

He knew this, he knewher . Whatever else happened, whatever threatened,right now there was only the two of them. An instant of forever.

He retreated,then pushed slowly into her, holding her close, one hand gently moving hair out of her face. He hadn't been able to tell her last night how just looking at her made his chest hurt. How her touch filled the emptiness in his spirit and how the scars of his heart had begun to heal as they came together.

And now, when he could read the doubts in her eyes, those words ached in his throat, along with a bittersweet stab of pain in his heart. He had fallen in love with her again.

But his love hadn't erased her fear before. Perhaps she'd been right when she'd told him that maybe love wasn't enough.

How could he tell her that the color had disappeared from his world when she had? That everything to him was a dull gray until she'd walked back into his life?

He couldn't tell her because nothing between them had changed. But he let her feel with each stroke of his body that he'd missed her. She let him glimpse the raw pain that still branded her heart. In her eyes, he read the surrender, the wish that they could be this way forever.

He gave her his strength; she lent him her gentleness. He moved inside her, slowly, deliberately, fighting his own release until she shuddered in his arms and gave a soft cry.

Only then did he allow his own climax. He gathered her even closer, pushing into her, feeling his heart tear and heal at the same time.

Their gazes locked and a teardrop spilled down her cheek. He kissed her gently, his own eyes stinging. As his body stilled, he held her heartbeat next to his, aching for her doubts, for the uncertainty of their future and for the love they would never voice.

* * *

Apprehension flicked along his spine like the prick of a needle. Mace hoped to hellO'Kelly called soon. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last withDevon.

He didn't know if she regretted making love to him, but he'd decided they had made things more difficult on themselves. No words of love had been spoken; no promisesmade, no plans. He didn't want to have regrets, but they stalked him like a starving dog.

She had said nothing about Josh, and Mace wanted her to tell him that she was finished with the accountant. But she didn't. And he didn't ask.

They showered, cleaned the cabin and the deck. Mace wondered ifDevonfelt as strange as he did. They shared a silent intimacy, but at the same time tension bound them, sharp and prickling.

"Mace, I"

The phone trilled in the quietness and they stared at each other. What had she been about to say?

He studied the shadows in her eyes, wondering if she'd needed reassurance about the case. Or about them. Them? Hell, therewas nothem . "It's okay."

She nodded.

The phone rang again. Suddenly Mace hoped fiercely that the person on the phonewasn'tO'Kelly .Which was crazy. They had to go back to the real world sometime. BothDevonand he had to move on with their lives, whatever direction that might be.

The phone rang a third time andDevonbit at her lower lip.

Mace gave a crooked grin and flipped up the receiver.

"Yeah."

She stood quietly nearby, twisting her fingers.

"Yeah," Mace said into the phone, his features growing hard. "Sit on 'em until I get there. I wantMartressa myself." He hung up, meeting her gaze across the few inches that separated them. "It's time."

Mild surprise flared in her eyes then she nodded, squaring her shoulders. "Tell me."

He still couldn't get used to sharing the details of his job, even if they did involve her. But he knew now that she wanted to know, wanted to deal with it. "O'Kellysays the leak was in Special Projects."

"What's that?"

"A division of the police department that handlesVice and Narcotics. The secretaries there type all the reports, take care of the warrants. It makes perfect sense. They have access to everything."

"So, someone in Special Projects knew each time you guys planned to getMartressa and told him?"

"Right."

"Why? Why would someone who works for the police do that?"

"This woman, Karen Ross, has a drug habit. Evidently, she was very careful, because no one in Special Projects had a clue. She's worked there for years. I don't know how long she's been giving information toMartressa in exchange for drugs, but she has to have been the leak your dad discovered."

"That's why he was killed?"

"Probably."

"And you're going after this guy yourself?"

He nodded, gauging her reaction closely.

Devonstudied him soberly, uncertainly, and he knew she was struggling to deal with the fact that he was going to face the man who'd killed her father.

He held her gaze. "It'll be okay. We'll get him."

"Will you be safe? You won't go alone, will you?"

He paused, surprised that her questions concerned him rather than what would happen next. "No, I won't be alone. I'll have plenty of backup."

"Good." She closed her eyes briefly, as though steeling herself. Then she reached for his hand. "I have no right to ask, but will you help me? Just through the trial?"

He should've hesitated, but he didn't. "All the way."

"Thank you."

He drew her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin and staring out over the calm, clear water. All hell was getting ready to break loose. He hoped her tentative new confidence would hold up until the end of the trial.

He didn't see how he was going to walk away from her again, but right now his only concern was being there for her. He owed Bill. He owedDevon. And somehow he felt he owed it to himself.

* * *

She didn't speak much on the trip home. And she didn't let go of his hand. He wanted to ask her where they stood, but instead he recalled the look in her eyes as they'd made love. She loved him, whether she'd said the words or not. He loved her, too.

Which didn't count a damn, since he couldn't shake this anxious feeling that any moment she might leave him again.

As they drove, Mace's patience with himself andDevongrew short. So when this was all over, they were just supposed to walk away from each other? He didn't want that, but he couldn't escape the fear deep in his gut that if he admitted his feelings to her, she would leave him again.

This was not the time to discuss it. Bracing herself to face Diamond Dale and Terry Carroll at the station was taking all her energy right now. Mace's forced helplessness dragged along his raw nerves like a sharp piece of glass.

"Mace, I want to tell you something."

"Sure." He kept his attention on the road, resolutely refusing to look at her sweet face.

She took a deep breath and turned in her seat so she faced him. "I don't want last night to be the end for us. Again."

His gaze swerved to hers and he nearly drove off the road. "Devon"

"Please, just listen." She took another deep breath, her brow furrowing. "I'm not asking for another chance. I don't know if you can give me one, but I want you to know that I'm different now."

"I know that."

She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. "I love you, Mace. I never stopped, but I can't say with certainty that I'm cut out for this kind of life. I want to be. I want to try, but I wanted to try before."

"You've changed, Dev. Really changed." Mace glanced at her eyes, cloudy with turmoil. "Even I can admit that."

"Yes, but is it enough?"

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to convince her that they would do fine. "I don't know."

"This police stuff is pretty intimidating." She gave a small laugh,then sobered. "I can't even say I trust myself not to walk away again. I certainly don't expect you to trust me."

Trust. His heart and head still battled over that one.

"I desperately want to be what you need," she said wistfully. "I wanted so badly to believe it was possible last night."

"Is that why you wanted to be with me?" His voice tightened and pain cinched his middle.

"No!" She gripped his hand tighter. "Absolutely not. But how can I promise that I'll be what you need when I'm so unsure of myself?"

Last year he would've said he was sure enough for both of them, but he'd learned that love didn't work that way.

Giving anembarrassed laugh, she looked away. "I'm spilling my guts here. I don't expect you to do the same. I just wanted you to know how I felt." She searched his eyes, her own full of torture and frustration. Her voice thinned with regret. "I couldn't bear to hurt you again."

Mace couldn't bear it, either. Hewouldn't let her hurt him. On the other hand, he wanted to believe that this time she wouldn't.

Slowly he had come to see the strength that threaded through her in soft velvet strands to form a steel core. Over the last several days, he had seen a new calm enter her eyes as she accepted a situation and fought to handle it.

He couldn't bring himself to reject her, but neither could he completely surrender his heart. "There's a lot going on, Dev. Why don't we just quit talking about it?" His voice was harsh with frustration and he tried to gentle his next words. "Let's concentrate onMartressa , for now."

She stared at him for a long moment,then nodded. "All right."

It was all he could do to steer the car north towardOklahoma City. Every protective instinct in his body urged him to drive anywhere but home, so she wouldn't have to deal with the rest of this mess.

Uncertainty hammered through him, and Mace wished he could dismiss his own misgivings, wished he could focus instead on the rightness of what they'd shared last nightthe honeyed velvet of her skin under his tongue, the passionate abandoned woman she'd become beneath his hands. But her self-doubt reflected his and unsettled him.

Yes, he had fallen in love with her again, but his head told him to walk away. Despite that, Mace would not let her face the coming trial alone. Whatever he had to do to protect her, he would. Regardless of whether it jeopardized the case or his job or his heart.

As they entered the city and neared her house, uneasiness sifted through him. After all this time of telling her not to be afraid, of reassuring her, of believing that together they could face anything, he found fear sidling in.

Besides that, he worried about howDevonwould handle herself if there were more threats between now and the trial, if things became violent.

After what had happened at the motel last night, he had to consider it.Devonwas still testing herself. She'd been right not to make promises last night. Or today.

Dusk sifted across the sky like black powder as they pulled into the drive of her house. She had wanted to change clothes before they went to the police station, and Mace indulged her. A few minutes wouldn't make any difference.

"What's going to happen when we get to the station?" He started at her question. Slanting his gaze to her, he noted the tense white lines around her mouth, the way she laced her fingers together.

"You'll go into a room divided by a two-way mirror. On the other side will be a lineup of men. They can't see or hear you, so take your time."

Shenodded, her eyes huge and luminous in the fading daylight.

"You tell us if you recognize any of them as being in your house the night your dad was killed."

"You mean,tell you which of them shot him?"

His eyes widened. He still hadn't become accustomed to her new blunt way of stating things in order to deal with the reality. "Yes."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

She took a deep breath and met his gaze, her eyes lighting up. "I can do that."

"Yes. You can."

"One step at a time."

Resisting the urge to pull her close and swear that he'd let nothing happen to her, he grinned.

She grinned back, and sensation kicked in his gut. He wanted to haul her to him and kiss her until they both forgot which way was up, but that would only muddy things more. He opened her front door while she picked up several newspaper flyers that had been deposited in her absence. He switched on the front-porch light, but no light came on.

"Oh, that bulb must've burned out again,"Devonmurmured.

That was probably exactly what had happened, but caution edged along Mace's nerves. He pushed open the door and motioned her to stay put. "Let me go in first."

"Okay." Even in the dim light, he could see the apprehension in her eyes.

"It'll be all right."

She nodded.

He stepped into the house.

"Mace, I'm going to tell Josh I don't want to see him anymore."

He halted, surprise and pleasure surging through him. He couldn't stop the grin as he glanced over his shoulder. "Got any more plans I should know about?"

"Maybe," she said softly, her eyes flashing with promise.

That damn hope flared again. "Works for me."

He stepped into the living room and flipped a switch. The lamp in the far corner flared to life.

Devonstepped in behind him, waiting in the doorway as he scanned the room. "I'll be glad when this is over."

"Me, too."

Mace spied the colorful rag rug that lay between the living room and the kitchen, noting that one corner was flipped up. He felt it thena shift in the air, a new static that he hadn't noticed when they'd first entered.

The spot between his shoulder blades prickled.

"Get out!" He wheeled back towardDevon.

"What?"

A gun fired from the direction of the hallway, and Mace flung himself in front of her. A bullet burned past his ear.Devoncried out. The lamplight died.

Mace slammed intoDevon, knocking her to the floor and covering her body with his. Pain exploded in his head as he reached for his gun. "Stay down, baby."

Footsteps rushed through the kitchen, toward the back door. Mace's movements became slow and groggy. No, his mind screamed. No!

"Mace?"

Devon's voice was faint beneath him. Jagged pain tore through him. He squeezed off a shot.

He heard a grunt, felt himself slipping. Heard the rush of retreating footsteps, the grate of the back door.Devonwas beneath him, her breath and body warm against him.

Alive.

He slumped atop her. "Dev"



Chapter 13

«^

Fear iced her veins.

"Mace?"Devonclutched at his arm, biting back the scream that threatened. "Mace?"

He didn't answer, didn't respond, but she could feel his chest moving shallowly against hers and she sobbed out a breath of relief. What was wrong with him?

She raised a trembling hand to his face and felt something sticky and warm at his temple. Her breath jammed in her throat and her thoughts froze.

"No, no," she gasped. "Mace?"

Somehow, on sheer instinct, she wiggled out from under his limp weight, refusing to accept what her mind was telling her.

She edged along the floor, barely aware of her movements, and reached into the hall to flip the switch. Light slanted into the living room and she turned, her chest aching.Please be all right, Mace.

Mace lay where she had left himlimp, motionless, his gun still in his hand. Sweat slicked her body; chills burrowed under her skin. She scooted closer, an image of her father flashing into her brain.

Blood pooled on the floor, around his head.

This was Mace, not Dad.Devonmassaged her temple, trying to calm the edge of hysteria. "Mace, get up."

He didn't move. He had probably hit his head when he fell.He had to be all right . Dread bit at her and pain stabbed behind her eyes, a fierce, wicked throb that she hadn't experienced since the early days after Dad's murder.

"No" She moaned, pressing her hands tightly against her eyes, trying to banish the pain, the images that flowed like poison into her brain.

Blood, dark scarlet, thick, everywhere. Dad with a gaping hole in his head. She touched him, so cold and still. She turned him over. His face changed and his gray eyes became Mace's blue ones, staring sightlessly up at her.

"No," she sobbed, trying to resist the memories, the blackness that reached for her, urged her mind to fade into the numb, cooling void that beckoned.

"Mom?" Her voice crackled in the stillness.

"Devon?" Mace croaked. "Dev" At the faint rusty sound, she looked up, and the present came back in a rush.

He shifted on the floor,then groaned.

Her father writhed on the floor.

She closed her eyes, trying to shove away the image.

In a flash, she recalled what had happened. It was real, here, now. Mace had been hurtshot.

And she was huddled in the corner of the living room, knees drawn up, her arms wrapped tightly around them to cocoon herself. Exactly as Mom had found her afterDevonhad seen Dad.

Horror streaked through her. She had to help Mace. She couldn't hide like she had before.

She scooted across the floor to him. Trembling, she touched him. His face was cold, yet his neck was warm.

She reached for a pulse, but her fingers shook so badly that she could feel nothing. Leaning next to him, she stroked his back over and over. "Mace, can you hear me?"

His face became fuzzy and gunshots echoed in her brain.

Two men stood behind her father. Twin shots popped and Dad pitched forward. His strong, lean body crumpled on her mother's white tile.

Devonwanted to hold him, but there was so much blood. She realized she was stroking Mace's face. Mace. Hold him

She leaned down, buried her face in his neck and inhaled the familiar musky scent of him. The same scent she still wore from their lovemaking this morning, the scent that bonded their bodies together as strongly as their hearts.

Emergency. Call9-1-1. From somewhere deep inside came the urging.

For a moment, she breathed him in, her arms tightening around him. The migraine still pounded in her temples, blurring her vision. Or was that because of the tears she now felt sliding down her cheeks?

Fear nipped at her, but she fought it off. This wasn't Dad. It was Mace. And he was alive. For now.

She locked on those words even as memories of her father's murder seared across her brain, urging her to give in to the darkness that would shelter her from the pain of seeing Mace this way.

It would be so easy to let go, to curl up on the floor, huddle intoherself like she had when Dad had been shot. But Mace needed her.

Mace. Without even realizing she'd moved, she found the phone in her hand. Blood trickled down the side of his face, dripped onto the floor. She stared, mesmerizedterrifiedat the blood seeping from his head onto her gleaming wooden floor.

"What is your address?" A voice crackled in her ear andDevonjerked.

"Where are you? What is your name?" Woodenly, she gave the required information, holding back the sobs that swelled in her chest like a rolling tide.

He was so pale, so still.

He hadn't moved since he'd called out to her. The operator repeated the address andDevonconfirmed it.

"Please come," she whispered. "Please help him."

* * *

Mace had protected her with his own life. The realization swamped her.Devonsat quietly under the ministering hands of the physician on call atMercyHospital's emergency room.

She was barely aware of the light he shone into her eyes, of the gentle hands that moved impersonally over her.

"Shock," he pronounced.

She wanted to move, wanted to go to Mace, but she had been told to wait while another doctor examined him. At least that's what she thought she'd been told.

She had ridden in the ambulance with him, holding tightly to the side of the vehicle as it swerved its way through the streets toMercyHospital.

She remembered nothing of the ride. She'd retreated into that cool, numbing void, surfacing only when Mace moaned or shifted on the stretcher.

He had protected her with his life. He did the same every day for people he didn't even know. She had never realized that until now, and even so, she could summon no emotion about it.

It was as though she were locked in a buffered, soundproof boxwhere no sound, no feeling, no emotion could touch her. How badly was he injured? He was still unconscious. She had no idea how long it had been since those horrible shots had rung out in the stillness of her house. It felt like days.

Her skin was gritty with dust, clammy with fear. Mace hadn't regained consciousness since that moment in the house when he'd called to her and roused her from the threatening blankness of her mind.

O'Kelly, who'd shoved through the emergency-room doors only seconds after Mace was brought in, waited next toDevonin the cubicle. "Can I get you something?"

She knew he'd asked the question at least four times, so finally she shook her head. What was taking so long? When would they let her see Mace?

She vaguely remembered that Carol Lockwood had been here, but she had left with a promise to return later.

"Devon?"

Something stirred inside the pleasant cocoon where she'd insulated herselfa spark of light, a flare of warmth. She turned her head and stared blankly for a second. "Mom?"

Marilee Landry reached her daughter and gathered her close.Devon's arms closed around her. A tightness in her chest loosened and tears started to flow.

"Oh, Mom," she said in a choked voice. "He's in there. Mace is in there."

"It's okay, honey." Marilee's voice shook, but she heldDevonhard. "It's going to be all right."

Devonwas aware that the doctor andO'Kelly stepped back and shut the curtain that separated her from the next cubicle. She heard a masculine voice ask, "How's that arm,O'Kelly ?"

"Pretty good, Doc."

Her mom held her and soothed her. In a few minutes,Devonraised her head. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Marilee assured her briskly, smoothing down the wrinkled material ofDevon's T-shirt. Fear pinched at her features, butDevoncould see the effort she was making to be calm. "DetectiveO'Kelly filled me in and everything is just fine."

Devonnodded, feeling disoriented and unable to process with full understanding all that her mother was telling her. She wanted to see Mace.

"Marilee?Devon?"

A familiar feminine voice carried softly toDevonand she raised her head. "Micki."

Mace's aunt slipped inside the curtained space and walked over to her. Marilee stepped back, allowing Mace's aunt to hugDevon.

Devonclung to her for a few seconds. "I'm so sorry,Micki ."

"What on earth for?" The woman's blue eyes, so like Mace's, zeroed in onDevon. She strokedDevon's hair away from her face and eased back enough to allow Marilee into the small, tight circle.

"What if he"Devoncouldn't finish. She couldn't feel, couldn't reassure any of them.

Mickirubbed her back. "The doctor will be out soon and then we'll know. Mace is tough. He'll be fine."

Devonsearched the other woman's eyes, hoping fervently she was right.

Mickiturned to the curtain. "Boys, she's okay."

Devon's eyes widened. "Sam?Linc ?"

Mace's younger brothers crowded into the doorway. Three years separated the oldest and youngest Garrett brothers, but these younger two were even huskier than Mace. Sam, also a policeman, had dark hair and blue eyes like Mace, whileLinc , the doctor, had hair more of a sandy brown and eyes that were a crystal gray. Both stood an inch or two shorter than Mace's six foot four.

Sam approached her first, his eyes glowing with the same friendliness and understanding they always had, despite the fact that she'd broken up with Mace. "How are you,Devon?"

She nodded, still wrapped up in the shock of seeing Mace shot, feeling the heavy weight of his body on hers.

Lincwas reserved, but polite. "You doingokay?"

"Yes."

He gestured toward the next room. "They'll be finished with him in a minute. I'll step inside and see what I can find out."

"Thank you."

She watched as Mace's younger brother disappeared beyond the curtain. It seemed Mace had been right aboutLinc . He had never understood her fear, while Sam had understood perfectly.

Sam dragged out a chair from the corner and straddled it, sinking down to wait. AuntMicki edged up to one side ofDevon's bed and Marilee took the other. WhenO'Kelly peered through the curtain, Sam motioned for him to enter.

"We can all wait together."

O'Kelly'sconcerned gaze rested onDevon, but she couldn't seem to reassure him.Please, please let Mace be all right.

Sam pushed through the curtain. "You can see him in a few minutes."

"How"

Her throat was raw and tight with the need to ask questions. How she wished that she could drift away into numbness, but she felt every breath like a knife prick in her chest.

"The bullet creased his head, dug out some flesh. That's why there was so much blood. But he's a hard-headed son-of-a-gun so he's going"

"Tobe all right." A slender, older man stepped into the crowded cubicle, gray brows arching atLinc . "Giving out the diagnosis onmy patient, Dr. Garrett?"

Sam said dryly, "Devon, this is Dr. Corrigan."

"Hi,Devon." The doctor came toward her, his eyes softening with kindness. "Mace is going to be fine. He has a concussion and we want to keep him for a while."

"How long?" She wanted to see him, tell him she'd been a fool for wasting so much time.

He patted her knee. "Overnight, at least. Possibly longer, depending on how he does tomorrow."

"The bleedinghas it stopped?"

At her mom's question,Devon's heart clenched. She didn't want to think about all of his blood staining her floor. Blood he'd spilled for her.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. The wound should heal nicely, but there will be a scar. As Dr. Garrett was telling you when I walked in, the profuse bleeding was due to the fact that it was a head wound."

Devon's swallowed. "I want to see him."

"He's been asking for you."

The doctor helped her down from the bed and led her next door.

She halted in the doorway, her breath jamming in her throat. The scene before her was exactly like last year, when she'd thought Mace had been injured and instead it had beenO'Kelly .

Mace lay on the bed, eyes closed, a white bandage above his left ear glaring against the darkness of his skin and hair. Blood streaked his cheek and several spots darkened his T-shirt, but his chest rose and fell evenly.

Devon's knees sagged and she gripped the door frame for support. He shifted on the bed and turned his head, his blue eyes focusing on her.

"Dev?" he croaked, lifting a hand toward her.

She went to him, grasping his hand tightly and bringing it to her lips. Tears stung her eyes. "Oh, Mace."

"I'm okay, babe. I'm okay." His voice was thready and his eyes fluttered shut.

Panic flared through her. "Mace"

"Sorry." He gave a wan smile. "My head hurts like the devil."

She wanted to smile, but could only stare at him.

Concern darkened his eyes and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Tell me you're all right, babe."

"I'm all right." She repeated the words, but they were hollow, just as she was.

Fear flared in his eyes.Fear?Devonstarted at the realization. She should reassure him, make the fear disappear the way he tried to do for her, but she couldn't. There was nothing left inside.

"Stay with me?"

"All the way." She nodded and sank down in a chair beside the bed.

* * *

Her own fear didn't surprise her. The rage did.

Devonsat with Mace as everyone filed into the room. He joked feebly withO'Kelly and Sam, listened intently to the instructions that seriousLinc gave him and lapped up the attention lavished on him by Marilee andMicki .

Since her father's death,Devonhad been afraidof the nightmares, of Mace's job, of life itself. She hadn't thought she could be more scared than she already was.

But when she'd seen Mace lying on the floor of her house, his head covered in blood

Terror had lashed her like a cruel master. The nightmares about Dad had come crashing back and she had been paralyzed. If Mace had died, it would've been because he was protecting her.

How could she have lived with the guilt, the sense of responsibility? She understood now what Mace must have suffered over her father in the last year.

Another realization pushed through, just as strong, just as insistent. Mace had been shot, exactly as she'd feared he would be. And they had both made it through. She had handled it.

After he'd been shot, his voice had drawn her back from the brink of the black, emotionless world she'd wanted to drift into. A fierce protectiveness she'd never felt before had opened up inside her.

"Devon?" Her mother's voice penetrated her thoughts. "Can I see you for a minute?"

Devonfrowned, glancing down at Mace's hand in hers.

She didn't want to leave him.

"Just for a minute, honey." Marilee stroked a stray hair fromDevon's cheek. "It's important."

"Go on, babe. I'm fine." Mace squeezed her hand, giving her a smile.

She hesitated,then brushed a quick kiss across his lips before following her mother out into the hallway.

Marilee huggedDevontightly. "I'm so glad you're both all right."

"Me, too."Devonreturned the hug, unable to suppress a shudder. "That was a little too close for me."

Her mother squeezed her again in silent agreement. "I can see things are different between you and Mace, honey."

"Yes."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Devonstared at her mom. "What do you mean?"

"Don't let him go again," Marilee said fiercely.

Though surprised,Devonstill held on to caution. "It's not that simple, Mom."

"It is. Don't let fear tear the two of you apart like I let it do to me and your dad."

"But what if I can't handle it"

"You can. I know you can, and Mace knows it, too."

"But"

"You love him,Devon. Don't let anything else be more important than that. I made that mistake and I'll always regret it. You did it once. Don't do it again."

"It's not that, Mom."

"Then what?"

"He's never said anything about giving us another chance." Frustration wound through her and she pulled away from Marilee, rubbing her suddenly cold hands. "He doesn't trust me and I can't blame him."

"A blind man can see he's crazy in love with you! You work on the trust part." Marilee graspedDevon's arms. "Don't throw it away, honey. Don't walk away from him. Do whatever you have to do to handle his job. Join a support group, see a therapist,talk to Mace, but don't make the same mistake I did."

"I don't want to."

"Then fight for the two of you. Right now, you're the one with the strength to do it."

Strength?Her mother thought she had strength? She did,Devonrealized. Physicaland emotional. She hugged her mom. "Thanks. Thanks so much."

She was tired of the fear, tired of living her life on other people's terms. Especially those of JoeMartressa , who had undoubtedly, somehow, been responsible for Mace's injury.

The rage unfurled in her belly, a hot, slow lick of fire that she didn't recognize at first. But soon it burned through her so strongly that she shook.

The trial would be her chance to exact revenge, her chance to face up to the demons of her past, to defiantly refuse to letMartressa call the shots anymore.

She'd let her life be drowned by fear. No more. Her small seed of strength had grown in the last weeks. With Mace by her side, she wouldn't be so easily broken.

Devonwanted her life back,her life. And she wanted Mace in it.

* * *

"Who was that secretary's connection?" Mace demanded groggily.

"It could've been anybody inMartressa's organization."

"And who shot me?"

Devonstepped into the bath of the private room to which the nurses had moved Mace and listened to him andO'Kelly . Mace's partner was the only other visitor in the room. Everyone else had left, with plans to return later.

Mace andO'Kelly probably thought she couldn't hear them, but strangely, she could hear everything, from the faintest hint of Mace's breath to the moans of pain he wouldn't voice.

"Who was it?" Mace rasped in a gravel-rough voice.

"Karen Ross won't give up a name."

"Yes, she will," Mace growled. "I'll talk to her."

"Everyone we know as a direct link toMartressa is being watched like a hawk."

"Hey, the guy's reach could extend anywhere."

In the last few minutes,Devonhad heard enough to know that the police still had no clues about who'd shot Mace.

O'Kellymoved about the room, but it only seemed to magnify his voice. "We've asked. None ofDevon's neighbors noticed anyone hanging around."

Devoncould summon no fear, no panic. Even the rage seemed to be dying. In its place grew a steady determination.

"We've checkedDevon's house for prints. None there, except yours and hers. And we did find a phone tap on Marilee Landry's phone. There's probably one onDevon's, too."

"There's got to be something we've missed. Someone we've overlooked."

There was the shuffle of bedcovers,thenO'Kelly exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going down to talk to that secretary." A loud crash reverberated through the room, followed by the clatter of a plastic cup on the floor. "Damn."

"Get back in bed, you idiot. I'll go talk to her."

Devonwalked back into the hospital room wearing a faint smile. Mace perched precariously on the edge of the bed, grimacing and holding a hand to his temple.

When he saw her, he grinned lopsidedly.

"Get back in that bed," she said softly.

He raised a brow at her commanding tone, then winced and did as she said.

She adjusted the sheet over his low-slung pajama bottoms. He flatly refused to wear a hospital gown. He pressed a soft kiss to the underside of her chin.

She drew back and looked at him, seeing, and feeling the love in his eyes. But would he admit it? Would he let her in?

Since remembering Dad's death, she'd thought that testifying at the trial would prove toherself that she was strong enough for Mace. When they were on the run and she'd found herself being drawn to him again, she'd told herself that she might be strongerafter the trial.

Now she realized that she had been becoming stronger every day since then. It wasn't the trial that would prove whether or not she was strong enough to be Mace's wife; it was what she had endured in the last few weeks. And shewas stronger.

She had faced the threats to her life and done so without panicking or causing Mace to lose his own. She had experienced Mace's jobin the most threatening way possibleand survived. It wasn't the thought of the trial looming aheadsome distant, strived-for goalit was living day-to-day. Living with the realization that Mace might not come home at night, and when he did, to rejoice in that.

A warmthunfurled inside her, unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She plumped his pillow and smiled at him.

He grabbed her hand, his gaze searching hers. "Dev, you okay?"

"Yes, I finally am."

He breathed a sigh of relief and kissed her hand. "You're looking at me, really seeing me. For a while, you had me scared."

"Me, too." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. "I love you."

Mace's eyes widened and his hand tightened on hers. "O'Kelly, give us a minute, okay?"

Devonwas barely aware asO'Kelly slipped out behind her.

Desire and caution battled in Mace's eyes. "Love didn't seem to be enough last time."

"Oh, Mace." She stroked his cheek, aching for all the hurt she'd caused him. "It was never a question of your not loving me enough. It was certainly never a question of me not loving you. I just wasn't strong enough to be what you needed."

"I thought I wasn't whatyou needed," he murmured. His fingers laced with hers and he blurted, "Dev, I love you. Today was too damn close. I thought I was going to lose you."

"Same here." Tears blinded her eyes.He'd said he loved her.

He tugged her closer, until her chest nearly rested on his. "Lying in this stupid bed, I thought of all the time we've missed, how much I missedyou . I never want to lose you again. We can work something out."

"I want that, too," she breathed, kissing him gently. "I know I can do this as long as we're together. You tried to tell me that last year"

"Shh." He pressed his fingers to her mouth. "No more talk of last year."

She nodded.

"I can quit the street"

"No, Mace. I meant that. I don't want you to give it up. I can handle it. I can."

"Man," he groaned. "I'm crazy about you, and if you'd get in this bed with me"

"We'd both get tossed out on our ears." She smiled, snuggling closer to him.

His free hand skimmed up her back. "I want to get married. I won't take no"

"Yes. I'll marry you." She smiled, joy pulsing through her where doubt had been only seconds before. "I can't believe you're giving me another chance. After what I"

"Hey." He kissed her hard and quickly,then stared straight into her eyes. "I can't believe you're givingme another chance."

"You won't regret it."

"Damn right I won't," he growled before his lips covered hers in a kiss that was surprisingly forceful for his weakened state.

When they drew apart, both breathing a little unevenly, she rested her forehead on his, savoring the joy of the fact that they were together. At last.

"Devon?"

"Hmm?"

"Never think I don't need you."

His voice was quiet and more somber than she'd ever heard it. She drew back slightly, her gaze locking on his.

"You're the only thing that keeps me from sinking into the slime I deal with every day. That was one of the first things I fell in love with about you."

"I never knew that." Wonder spread through her.

"You're the one pure thing in my life, the other part ofmyself . Don't ever think I don't need you. I need you more than air."

"Mace!"Devonwas speechless. She could never have imagined that Mace felt that way about her. Leaning down, she kissed him slowly and leisurely, murmuring against his lips, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She sighed into his mouth. "I'm stronger because of you."

"No." He pulled away a fraction. "You're stronger because ofyou ." Fierce love burned in his eyes. "Come here."

She leaned down and he cupped her head, kissing her gently. She saw pleasure and peace flare in his eyes. They still had to face the trial. And she still had to deal with Josh, she realized with a belated pang of guilt. But with Mace beside her, she knew she could.

O'Kellystepped back into the room, clearing his throat. "Hate to break this up, but we've got some suspects to bring in."

"You can wait with your mom and I'll call you." Mace's heated blue gaze stayed locked onDevon's face, fueling confidence.

She smiled at him. "No. I want to be there when you bring them in."

"Then let's go."

She wanted to protest that he should rest, but she finally understood, at least partially, that his needs would come second to his job, particularly on this case. She nodded. "Be careful. Please."

"I will." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, holding his head for a moment. "I want to getMartressa ,then meet you at the station. I'll be there when you ID his guys."

"I don't want you holding my hand. I need to do this myself."

"I know," he growled, pulling her between his legs. "I won't get in your way. I'll talk to that secretary while you're busy with the lineup."

She smiled, though anxiety was creeping back in. "We're doing it together."

"Yep."

"I like it."

They grinned at each other andDevon's heart swelled with love. Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, "Be very careful, so we can celebrate tonight."

"Whatever you say, babe," he answered in a husky whisper, his hands flexing on her waist. "Now help me get dressed."

"I think I'd better do it," saidO'Kelly from the other side of the bed. "It doesn't look like either one of you is thinking about getting dressed."

Mace grinned andDevongave him a quick kiss,then steadied him on his feet. Though his forehead furrowed in pain, he was dressed in a few minutes. He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his shoulder holster on the way out the door withDevonandO'Kelly .

The ride to the police station was accomplished in relative silence. Mace andDevonparted at the bottom of the stairs.

"Go get 'em," he said softly.

She squeezed his hand, taking his strength as she walked upstairs withO'Kelly to face the last demons of her past.



Chapter 14

«^

She stood in a dark room in front of a window and studied the six suspects as they filed in. Recessed lighting cast their shadows on the wall, but brought their faces into vivid relief.

She sucked in a deep breath. Number four stared blankly at the window and she felt as if he could see right through to her. Her hand shook as she raised a finger to the window. "That's one of the men."

O'Kellysqueezed her shoulder. "Good. Is that all?" She let her gaze move slowly over the line and halted on the last man. She pressed a calming hand to her suddenly nervous stomach. Never would she forget that scar that slashed his cheek. Nor would she forget the steadiness of his hand as he'd pointed that gun at her father's head. "Number six."

"Way to go,Devon."

O'Kelly'spraise warmed her. She felt a minute of regret that Mace hadn't been with her, but it faded in the wake of her triumph.

Her breath eased out and a pressure she hadn't realized was there was released around her chest. Suddenly she felt a sense of euphoria, of victory. She'd done it! She'd identified Dad's killers.

After signing her statement, she waited whileO'Kelly wrapped up some business with Captain Price. As they walked downstairs together,Devonturned to Mace's partner.

"I have something else I need to do." Before she saw Mace again, she wanted to be free to start a future with him. That meant she needed to talk to Josh.

O'Kellypushed open the door for her and they walked outside. "I've got some time. I can go with you."

"This is something I have to do alone."

"Mace won't like it if I come back without you."

"Reid, I'm going alone."

"Oh." His face flushed and he shifted from one foot to the other. "Well"

"Tell Mace I'm doing as I promised. He'll understand."

* * *

Josh Van Horn! The slick bastard had been next toDevonthe whole time! Raw fury drowned out any sense of victory Mace felt.

He'd finally gotten a name from the secretary. It had sent him slamming out the door and stalking down the hall toward the room whereDevonwas identifying the two men she'd seen kill her father.

He struggled to rein in his anger, not wanting to upsetDevonany more than she would already be after seeing those men again. Not to mention how upset she would be when she found out about the bean counter.Damndamndamn.

He andO'Kelly hadn't seen Van Horn's connection toMartressa at first because it was barely there. He wasn't a relative, but apparently owedMartressa for a favor done long ago to help Van Horn's mother.

According to Karen Ross, Josh did the odd job forMartressa a pickup of cash here, a drop-off of drugs there. Never anything to establish a pattern. His latest job was to get close toDevon, to make certain that there had been no witnesses in the house that night asMartressa had feared.

Mace andO'Kelly had been right. Bill had seen Karen Ross withMartressa , and one ofMartressa's men had seen Bill.Martressa had sent Diamond Dale and Terry Carroll to kill Bill that night.

Only an hour ago, Mace's fellow officers had hauled inMartressa . The man had come easily, smiling that smarmy smile and vowing coolly to be out within the hour. His lawyer had arrived at the station just as Mace had arrived atMartressa's interrogation room.

Despite the pounding in his head, just the sight ofMartressa had set Mace off. He wanted to kill the slime for what he'd done to Bill and to Bill's family. Finally the captain ordered Mace to get his butt out of there and cool off. So he'd gone to talk with Karen Ross.

As Mace drew even with the squad-room door,O'Kelly stepped out. "Hey, we just finished up here."

"Where'sDevon? Did everything go okay?"

"She did great, no hesitation at all."

"You're not going to believe this." Mace walked inside the squad room, looking forDevon. "I just got a name from that secretary. Where is she?"

"Who,Devon?"O'Kelly frowned. "Who'd the secretary give you?"

"I need to seeDevon."

O'Kellygestured toward the stairs. "She just left."

"Left?" Alarm rolled through Mace. "Why? Where was she going?"

"She wouldn't say." Concern shadowedO'Kelly's features. "Only said tell you she was doing as she'd promised and you'd understand."

Mace tried to remember whatDevonhad promised, but the harder he thought, the more his head hurt. They'd made no promises to each other last night, had they? After learning about Van Horn, he didn't want her out of his sight even for a second. "I don't like it."

"You two have been together night and day for the past week. How much togetherness can a person stand?"

"You're a real Romeo,O'Kelly ," Mace muttered. Where could she have gone? What promise had she made?

O'Kellysobered. "Hey, she sounded pretty sure of herself or I wouldn't have let her go."

Mace tried to think, ignoring the sharp throbbing in his temple. When he andDevonhad been standing in the doorway of her house No! She'd told him she was going to break things off with Josh.

"Oh, hell!" Mace tore past his partner and bolted down the stairs.

O'Kellywas right on his heels. "Garrett, what gives?"

"She's gone to see Van Horn!" Mace elbowed and pushed his way through a glut of officers at the bottom of the stairs. The nausea in his belly had nothing to do with the injury to his head. "Van Horn's the name I got from Karen Ross."

"Damn!"O'Kelly caught up to him. "We'll need backup."

"Let's go."

O'Kellyyelled behind him for another unit, andLightsey and Palmer rushed out the door behind him.

Mace andO'Kelly piled into Mace's car. He slapped on the siren and screeched out of the parking lot. "Why the hell did you let her leave, Reid?"

O'Kellyreplaced the radio he'd used to call for additional backup. "I don't know," he said miserably. "She didn't tell me where she was going, but I should've stuck with her. I'm sorry."

Mace could see the guilt on his friend's face and it bit at him. He curbed his anger and frustration. "You couldn't have known. It's not your fault."

"We'll get there in time."O'Kelly stared across the car at Mace.

He fought against the black rage shooting through him. "If he so much as makes her scream, he's a dead man."

"Maybe you should let me and the others handle it."

Mace shot him a withering look. "No chance in hell."

O'Kellygrinned and grabbed his seat belt. "Well, I gave it a shot."

* * *

"What do you mean, you can't see me anymore?" Josh's voice hardened andDevonfelt a pang of regret.

"I'm sorry, Josh, but I really can't. It's not fair to leave you hanging like this."

"So you're dumping me?" He laughed bitterly. "Isn't that something?"

She frowned, a little uneasy at the anger she could feel emanating from him. "It's for the best. You deserve someone who can commit to you and I'm not that person."

She had checked her machine, finding three urgent-sounding messages from him. She knew he'd been worried, and she felt bad that the news she'd come to give him wasn't good. He'd been relieved to see her at the door, pulling her inside and hugging her for a long time. Now he stood across the room from her, holding two glasses of iced tea he'd gotten from the kitchen.

He placed the glasses on the bar behind him. "You're just anxious. You've been through a lot in the last several days."

He had no idea exactly what she'd been through, but he was trying to understand. He'd alwaysbeen so understanding .

"No, Josh," she said gently. "Please believe that I've thought a lot about this. It doesn't have anything to do with my being gone. I just don't feel about you the way I should."

"You'll like it there,Devon. You'll see. We'll leave here and go toChicago."

She noticed his bag then, sitting in the hallway. Had he just returned from another trip? "Did you get the job?"

"Yes, of course." He eyed her strangely.

She pushed her hair away from her face. He was taking this much harder than she'd anticipated. "I won't be going with you, Josh. I mean it. I don't want this to end badly, but"

"It's that cop, isn't it?" He stared at her and a muscle twitched in his jaw. His velvet brown eyes turned hard as flint. "The one you were engaged to?"

"This is about you and me." She'd known it would be unexpected for him, but hadn't considered that he would take it so hard.

"You've been spending time with him and now you're confused."

"That's not why I'm breaking up with you." She hadn't given him any of the details of her stay with Mace, but she didn't like the feral gleam in Josh's eye. Caution edged in and she inched toward the door.

He saw her movement and smiled wryly as he moved to a small secretary on the far wall. He opened the middle drawer. "Your mom told me all about him. But that's over now."

"Josh, I came here to tell you that I can't see you anymore. That's all."

He turned toward her, his hand still in the drawer. "I know you've been upset about your dad's murder. You should've confided in me. I would've helped you."

"I wasn't ready. I don't like talking about it." What was wrong with him? He seemed focused on some inner battle. She moved closer to the door.

"What have you remembered,Devon? How much?"

"What? What are you talking about?" A sudden suspicion snaked through her mind. Joshcouldn't know that she'd recalled witnessing Dad's murder. Could he?

"I'm talking about the hit on your father."

The hit?The phrase turned her stomach. Horror shot through her. "Oh, no."

Josh pulled a gun from the drawer and pointed it at her.

"I know you saw the whole thing. The boys thought they heard a noise that night, but couldn't stay around to check for witnesses. It's been so long we'd about decided there hadn't been one. But there was."

"We?" She could hardly process what he was saying. Josh was involved? Josh, whom she'd dated? Josh, who had been in her house, her mother's house?

The phone calls! Josh had been the link Mace had tried to find each time their hiding place had been discovered. Nausea churned in her stomach. "How are you involved? Why?"

"I think I should ask the questions, although I understand you've already paid a visit to the cops today."

Her eyes widened. How did he know that? Where was Mace? How was she going to get out of here?

"You remembered it all, didn't you?"

She stared at him, her gaze shifting between the small handgun he held trained on her and the brittleness in his eyes.

"Didn't you?" His voice was soft, threatening. Panic cleaved through her and migraine pain exploded behind her eyes. All this time, she'd thought she was safe, and she'd been within an arm's length of danger. "You're involved with the men who killed my father! How? Who are they?"

She couldn't make sense of it, struggled to keep the panic at bay and think. She took another step backward toward the door.

"No, no." He waved the gun at her and strode across the room, grabbing her by the ann.Pulling her farther into the living room, he yanked her to a stop by the bar. "I hate that it's come to this, but you know too much. LovelyDevon, why did you have to remember?"

"But you asked me to move toChicagowith you!"

"I had to keep an eye on you."

"That's what you've been doing the whole time we ye dated?" She could hardly take it in. Her gaze darted around and she lunged past him.

A click sounded in the room and seemed to echo. "Thesafety's off,Devon."

Thanks to Mace, she knew exactly what that meant. She froze, slowly straightening and trying to keep her teeth from chattering. "What do you want?"

"You're my insurance policy out of here."

She swallowed hard, her gaze never leaving him.Think,Devon. Think. She couldn't wrestle the gun from him. She couldn't run without being shot.

Would Mace be able to figure out where she'd gone? If so, would he even come if he thought she'd gone to break things off with Josh?

Why, oh why, had she insisted on facing all her demons today? The suitcase in Josh's hallway didn't mean he'd just returnedit meant he was leaving. And taking her with him.

"Josh, you'll never make it out of town."

"Nice try, but my uncle will take care of that." He smiled grimly, waving the gun at her. "Now get over there by that chair."

"Your uncle?" Why hadn't she ever noticed how thin and cruel his lips could be? "Who's your uncle?"

"Well, he's not my real uncle, but he's taken care of me and my mom before." He advanced, moving her backward toward an overstuffed easy chair. "Martressa."

Devon's stomach clenched. "Oh,my gosh ."

Suddenly a powerful knock sounded on the front door. "Police! Open up!"

Mace!

Josh turned the gun on her andDevondove behind the chair just as the door crashed open.

Mace's voice cracked through the room. "Drop that gun, you bastard!"

"Now!"O'Kelly echoed.

Thank goodness they'd found her!

Josh edged toward the chair where she hid, his gun pointed straight at her. "Get back or I'll kill her."

Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat slicked her palms. Her gaze lit on the lamp just to the right of the chair and she measured her distance from Josh. Just a little closer

Taut silence shrouded the room.Devon's heart beat in her throat. She was afraid to move, afraid shecouldn't move, but just as Josh reached for her, she rose, grabbed the lamp and smashed it against his head.

Without stopping to see if she'd caused any damage, she whirled and ran into the kitchen.

Josh stumbled and Mace flew across the room, tackling him as he rose to his knees. Their bodies slammed into the floor and a brief struggle ensued.

In short order, Mace had Josh facedown on the floor, and the two wrestled with the gun. It fired once, away fromDevon, and she flinched, wanting to hide her face, but unable to stop watching as the men fought. Finally Mace gained control of Josh's gun and shoved it across the floor.

O'Kellymoved in, pointing his gun at Josh's head. "Give it up, Van Horn."

Josh sagged limply against the floor.

Devonwas afraid to breathe. Was it really over? "Dev?" Mace stood in front of her, fear and love in his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched as though he were afraid to touch her.

She walked to him, holding out her arms. "I'm okay." He crushed her to him, his arms tight and secure around her. Even so, she could feel a tremor ripple through him. After a few seconds, he set her away from him, his gaze tracing every inch. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Thank you! How did you know?"

"I finally remembered the promise you made."

"Are you okay?" She peered at the bandage on his head.

He stroked her hair away from her face, his eyes fierce with love. "As long as you are."

She hugged Mace again, Josh's words jumbling in her brain. "He knowsMartressa ."

"Yeah, I got that from Karen Ross. Van Horn andMartressa did a pretty good job of keeping their connection buried."

SuddenlyDevonfelt dizzy. Josh had been so close to her and her mother all this time. "Is Mom all right?"

"Yes."O'Kelly hauled Josh to his feet. "She's with Captain Price. They're waiting for you outside." He pulled at Josh's arm. "Let's go."

Josh turned toDevon, his gaze sliding over her insultingly.

Even though she trembled, she clutched tightly to Mace's hand and lifted her chin. "Would you really have killed me, Josh?"

For a brief instant, his features changed, softened. A longing passed through his eyes, andDevonthought for a moment that he really might have cared for her. Then in a blink, his features hardened and he shrugged. "I didn't want to, but you had to be dealt with."

Devonshuddered and pressed more tightly against Mace. "Get him out of here."

O'Kellygrinned and yanked at Van Horn. "Yes, ma'am."

As the two men disappeared through the doorway,Devonturned into Mace's arms. "I love you."

"I love you." He kissed her tenderly. "Do you know what you just did? Do you know what kind of guts that took?"

She shook her head, dazed. "All I could think about was getting back to you."

"You handled it, just like you've handled everything from the beginning."

"I'd like to think I handled it a little better than I did some things." Regret swelled through her. "Like you, for instance."

"We can fix that, Dev." He framed her face in his hands and kissed her hard. "I'm ready to get married."

Her throat tightened. "So am I. I swear right now that I'll stand by you from now on."

"Same here," he said huskily.

"I realized finally that you live with the same fear I do. But you understand it and somehow manage to use it to make yourself stronger." She cupped his cheek. "I've always wanted to do that and now I know I can. With you, I can."

"Really, Dev?" His voice was hoarse, his blue eyes glinting suspiciously.

"Really." Locking her arms around his neck, she smiled up at him.

"Now, about this marriage thing."

"Yes?"

"It has to be on my terms," he said fiercely, his eyes blazing blue fire at her.

A shiver skipped up her arms. "What kind of terms?"

"For life."

One corner of her mouth tugged up, then the other. "I can do that."

"I know you can." His lips covered hers, warm with promise and reassurance. Love swelled in her heart, andDevonfelt the tears slip from beneath her lids, tasted their salt in Mace's kiss. "I've always known."

They had been so close to saying goodbye.Devonknew she would never let fear send her running again.

He smiled down at her. "Let's go tell your mom. She's gonna love this."

"I want to tell Dad, too."

"Absolutely."

* * *

Mace stood under a flowering dogwood at the foot of Bill's grave. He andDevonhad come here to tell her father that they were going to be married.

Mace felt that Bill somehow did know. After a few moments together,Devonhad moved several yards away, letting Mace have a moment alone.

The scent of trimmed grass and the fragrant essence of flowers from nearby gravesites teased the air. A gentle breeze tiptoed across the manicured grounds. The days were getting longer and the sun burned amber on the horizon, slanting golden red light across the granite headstone.

"We finally gotMartressa , Bill."

At last peace eased through Mace, soothing the ragged edge of guilt that had stalked him for the last year.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you that night." Mace's throat tightened and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Bill would never have held him responsible for showing up late. Just asDevonhadn't. But Mace had known that he owed it to Bill to getMartressa .

You make my daughter happy, Garrett, or you'll have something to be sorry about.

The memory of Bill's voice whispered through Mace's memory and he smiled. With a two-finger salute, he relinquished his hold on the past. He turned and walked towardDevon, toward a future he thought he'd lost forever.

* * *

Soft morning light glimmered through the chapel, washing over the white painted pews and the rose carpet down the middle aisle. Piano music floated through the room. The scent of white roses and greenery filtered through the small chapel of the church.

His brothers stood beside him; his mother and father beamed at him from the front row. Across from him, Carol Lockwood fidgeted with her ivory dress. The first and second rows of the bride's side were filled with seven- and eight-year-olds. The groom's side was filled with cops.

The children in the first row held a crudely hand-lettered banner that read Happy Wedding Miss Devon and Mr. Mace. All eyes were locked on the double doors at the back of the room.

Mace wasn't nervous. He wasn't even sweating. He had never been more certain of anything than he was about marrying Devon and spending the rest of his life with herthis time as much as the first. Although this time seemed even more precious, more sacred somehow.

Impatience sheared through him. Where was she? It had taken all of three days to get the license and necessary tests and he was tired of waiting.

Lincfingered the stiff cuff on his tuxedo shirt and said out of the corner of his mouth, "What if she doesn't show?"

Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

Mace leveled a flat stare on him. "She will."

A sudden hush descended upon the room, and Mace stilled asDevonappeared in the doorway. His breath jammed in his chest as she glided toward him, her mother at her side. In that moment, he felt Bill Landry's presence and the warmth of his approval. Mace felt completely whole and he smiled as he turned toward the woman he loved more than life.

The severely cut, cream-colored satin skimmed her body revealing every curve and the nip of her waist yet somehow managing to capture the purity and innocence of her face. Her silver-green eyes glowed with love and certainty. No more doubts.

He was vaguely aware of taking her hand, of hearing Marilee give her away. The words spoken by the minister ran together in his mind, though he repeated his vows clearly, almost fiercely. As he stared into her eyes he felt the last ache of his heart ease.

She was his. They were one, forever. Finally.

He was rock steady until he slid the ring on her trembling finger. Then his hands shook as if he were a rookie again and engaged in his first one-on-one.

She gripped his hand, remembering when she had returned the ring last year, aching for the pain she had caused him, her chest tightening at their second chance. Her vision blurred and a tear slipped from her eye.

Keeping her gaze locked on his, she lifted his hand and kissed the ring she had placed on his finger, vowing silently with the gesture to never again remove his ring, to never again doubt the strength of what they shared.

He swallowed and his eyes burned bright with love and desire. She smiled tremulously and he steadied her with one hand at her waist.

"I now pronounce you man and wife."

"At last," Mace whispered on the way to her lips.

"For always,"Devonmurmured against his.



Epilogue

«^

As the time neared for the trial,Devonadjusted to life as a cop's wife. The days passed in a flurry of hurried breakfasts, stolen dinners and long nights of leisurely lovemaking.

She still feared for Mace every morning when he walked out the door, but they handled it together. If he went on stakeout, he let her know where. If other officers were threatened, he called immediately to let her know he was all right.

She protested that he coddled her too much, but he liked doing it. And she liked it, too.

Her new last name seemed to symbolize her new strength. She knew that if something happened to him, she would lose a part of herself, but she also knew she could go on.

She testified against Josh, who was found guilty of attempted murder as well as aiding and abetting. And eight months after Mace andDevon's wedding,Martressa's trial took place.

Mace's brothers and aunt as well asDevon's mom were with them in the courtroom through the entire trial. After grueling weeks of testimony, Gordon Dale Jens and Terry Carroll were found guilty of the murder of Detective Sergeant Bill Landry and sent to death row.

The jury returned a guilty verdict for JewelMartressa on charges of conspiracy for the murder ofDevon's father, as well as racketeering and money laundering.

As soon as the verdict was announced, cheers from the attending police officers erupted in a deafening crash. Mace andDevonwere swallowed up in hugs from Sam andLinc . Marilee andMicki hugged each other,then moved to Mace andDevonfor more.

Arm in arm, Mace andDevonwalked out of the courtroom, surrounded by family and friends. She turned to him, speaking loudly to be heard above the noise of victory. "We did it, Mace! We did it."

"Youdid it." He lifted her off the floor in a tight hug. "Your dad would be proud."

"He's right." Captain Price elbowed her way between Mace's brothers and gaveDevona quick hug. "Thanks for all your help. We couldn't have done it without you."

"I'm just glad I could help."Devonwas stunned by the praise. She couldn't have done anything without Mace.

Captain Price leaned close. "You're very much your father's daughter,Devon. Tough and strong. Don't forget that."

Tears stung her eyes andDevonhugged Mace's captain. "That means a lot, coming from you."

"If you ever need anything"

Devonnodded. Captain Price smiled and straightened her jacket, stepping out of the way as Sam pushed forward.

He clapped Mace on the back and grabbedDevonin a quick hug. "Good job, you two."

Linchung back, studyingDevonand his brother with an inscrutable expression. Then he stepped up and shook Mace's hand. "I'm glad it's all over. Congratulations."

"Thanks." Mace's arm tightened aroundDevon's shoulders.

Linc'sgaze moved to hers and he leaned down, brushing a kiss against her cheek.

She smiled, surprised at the contact. It was the first time he'd ever done such a thing. He'd welcomed her to the family on their wedding day, but there always seemed to be a barrier between them, as if he still didn't trust that she would stand by Mace this time.

"I was wrong about you,Devon. And for once, I'm proud to admit I was wrong about something."

"You'd better get this on tape," Mace murmured, watching his brother closely.

Devonelbowed him. "Be quiet."

"You did a hell of a job in there,"Linc continued. Her eyes widened in surprise and she smiled fully, her heart swelling at the love that centeredaround them.

"I've been waiting. To see if you would go through with it. To see if you would stick by Mace."

"Linc" Mace growled.

"I was wrong to do that."Linc's gaze never leftDevon. "I'm proud you're my sister."

A sense of belonging swept over her and emotion clogged her throat. She squeezed his hand. "Thank you,Linc . Thank you."

Mace swept her against him and pressed a quick kiss on her lips. He turned to Captain Price. "I'm taking off for a couple of days."

She arched a brow. "I suppose I shouldn't ask where you'llbe? "

"Not if you want to stay on my Christmas list."

Three hours later, Mace andDevonwere on AuntMicki's cabin cruiser. They anchored in the same cove they'd found before and held each other as they looked out over the water. A new security blanketed her, one that included strength and trust and the promise of the future.

Devonturned in Mace's arms, kissing him boldly and pulling his T-shirt from his jeans.

"Hello, Mrs. Garrett." He chuckled softly as his hands moved over the buttons of her denim shirt, spreading it wide so that he could press butterfly kisses over the swell of her breasts.

"Mace, I love you."

"I love you." He cupped her bottom in his hands and pulled her against his erection.

Liquid warmth shimmied through her and she tugged at the buttons on his jeans. His hands skimmed over her, unfastening her skirt, palming off her skimpy panties.

They slid to the floor and came together in a burst of heat andimpatience, then slowed their movements to match the lazy rocking of the boat on the water. Mace splayed his hands over her back, measured the slender feel of her shoulders, her ribs,cupped her breasts in his hands.

She moaned against his lips and threw back her head. Moonlight shadowed her cheekbones, turned her eyes to dark silver. He saw his past and his future reflected in the vulnerable shine of her eyes.

Following the push and thrust of his body, she stared straight into his soul. "I will never leave you again, Mace. Never."

The last of his fears about her had disappeared. She had his heart in the palm of her hand and this time he trusted her to keep it safe.

Their bodies moved in perfect unison; their hearts beat in mirrored rhythm. Hands clasped, they raced for the moon, shedding the fears of the past, embracing the possibilities of the future.

Some time later she rolled away from him and returned with their house plans. She flipped on the flashlight and spread out the blueprints in front of him.

Feeling lazy, he nevertheless pushed himself up beside her. "Why did you bring these? I thought we were all set to go." He frowned up at her. "You're not changing your mind about the tile again? I thought we agreed."

"We did."

"You said you liked the spot I picked. You'd rather move closer to the water, right?"

"The spot is fine." She kissed his cheek. "Anywhere is fine as long as we're together."

"Then what?" He draped an arm around her and turned his attention to the plans.

"I want to add another room."

"Another room? You're not planning to invite your mom to live with us? I like Marilee, but"

"No, silly."Devonlaughed, tapping a spot on the blueprint. "I think here."

He glanced down, then back at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, if it's on the other side of the house, I guess I can live with her."

"It's not for Mom," she said with fond exasperation. "It's for a nursery."

"Oh, a nursery." He froze,then his gaze shot to her stomach. "A nursery? Are youare wewhat's going on?"

"We're going to have a baby." Her voice drifted softly over him and she took his hand, placing it on her still-taut abdomen.

"A baby?" Mace swallowed hard, swamped by feelings of love and power and a sudden panic. "I don't know anything about babies."

"You know how to make one with love," she said softly. "That's the most important thing. We'll learn the rest together."

He looked into her eyes and saw a clear certainty reflected in the silver depths. No more fear, no more doubts. This was her way of telling him that she trusted in their future, trusted in whatever time they had together.

Mace felt suddenly humbled and a little frightened. He framed her face with his hands and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"You gave me a second chance. I'm the lucky one."

"Well, who am I to argue?" He grinned, and she looped her arms around his neck, meeting his lips in a slow, wet kiss.

They'd been too close to goodbye. Now they'd both come home. Forever.



* * * *