Текст книги "Secrets"

Автор книги: Cynthia Eden

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Shayne braked at a red light. The street around them was deserted. “And what he wants is Jennifer?”

“He doesn’t love her. Those softer feelings are long dead for him.” Nate jerked at his cuffs. “He’s furious because she betrayed him, and he’s an eye-for-an-eye type. He’s not going to stop. He won’t ever stop, not until he gets what he wants.”

Jennifer’s death.

Sullivan heard a faint click. He tensed as his gaze sharpened on Nate. “I want you to sit back now.” Nate had leaned forward, perching on the edge of the backseat.

“I won’t just wait for the guy to come at me. You think I’ll be safe in jail?” Nate’s voice rose even more. “He’ll get to me! If he thinks I’m betraying him, then he’ll kill me just like he’s going to kill her!”

Sullivan grabbed for the guy. “I told you to sit—”

Nate’s hands flew up. His uncuffed hands. Too late, Sullivan realized what that faint click had been. The cuffs dangled loosely from Nate’s right hand, and he swung that hand hard at Sullivan’s face.

“What’s happening back there?” Shayne barked.

Sullivan felt his nose break on impact.

Nate leaped toward the front of the car. He locked his arm around Shayne’s neck. The car immediately swerved to the right as Shayne fought him.

Sullivan’s hands closed around Nate. “Let him go!” he shouted. Damn, the guy was stronger than he looked. “Let him—”

The car crashed into a light post.

Chapter Nine

Brodie slammed on the brakes and jumped out of his SUV. “Sullivan!” He ran toward Shayne’s smashed vehicle, adrenaline and fear eating at him as he roared his brother’s name.

Jennifer’s footsteps pounded over the pavement as she rushed after him.

The back door opened on Shayne’s car. Nate staggered out. He saw Brodie. Jennifer. “They’re dead,” he shouted as he stilled under a streetlight.

No, no, Sullivan was not dead. Up the street, Grant had braked his car, and he was running back toward the wreckage.

Brodie grabbed Nate, his hands locking around the guy’s shoulders. “What did you do?” He shook the older man.

Nate smiled. “I wasn’t the driver...I’m not the one who killed them.”

This guy had been a government agent? “What happened to you?”

Nate’s eyelids jerked. “Death. You lose everyone, everything, then you learn to watch out for yourself.”

And Brodie felt the hard edge of a knife press into his stomach.

“Your brother had a knife strapped to his ankle.” Nate gave a little shrug. “I was always pretty good with knives.”

The knife jabbed deeper into Brodie’s side.

“I’m not calling Stephen Brushard,” Nate said. “And I don’t care who I have to kill in order to—”

Brodie grabbed his wrist, shattered the bones. The knife dropped to the ground with a clatter. Brodie shoved Nate back, back, until the guy’s shoulders slammed into the side of a brick building.

“If they’re dead,” Brodie said, his low words a promise, “then so are you.”

“You broke my wrist!”

“I’ll break more than that if you ever try to hurt my brother or my friend again.” Brodie held Nate pinned to the wall. He glanced over his shoulder, trying to see what was happening with the wreckage.

The front of Shayne’s car was smashed to hell and back. Glass littered the street. Brodie could see someone slumped in the backseat.

Sullivan.

Jennifer was climbing into the backseat, trying to reach Sullivan, while Grant had yanked open the driver’s door in an attempt to get Shayne out of the wreckage.

“He’s alive!” Jennifer shouted.

“He won’t be for long,” Nate whispered. “Stephen Brushard took away the woman I loved because she was in his way. What do you think he’ll do to those men? To the cop? To your brother? Is she really worth their lives?”

Shayne stumbled out of the vehicle. No other cars were on that street, not yet. This business area was usually pretty empty on the weekend.

Grant rushed to help Jennifer.

“Choose carefully,” Nate told him.

Brodie wanted to drive his fist into the guy’s jaw. “She lived as your daughter for years! Don’t you care at all about what happens to her?” He let Nate go but didn’t back away far. You’re not getting away.

“All that was a lie. The woman you think you know is a lie.” Nate stepped away from the wall. “I won’t lose everything I have just for—”

A gunshot rang out.

Nate’s words ended in a strangled gasp as red ballooned on his chest.

He followed us.

Brodie grabbed Nate and yanked him to the right, trying to give the guy cover. “Jennifer! Grant!”

At first, the only sound he heard was the wail of a siren, coming closer. Had Shayne called for backup?

Then... “We’re okay!” Jennifer yelled.

Nate definitely wasn’t okay. Brodie put his hands on Nate’s chest, trying to stop the blood flow, but the shot had been far too accurate.

The bullet had blasted straight into Nate’s heart.

Nate’s breath heaved out. His head turned toward Brodie. “See...told you...no...escape...”

His eyes closed.

No.

“Where’s the shooter?” Grant called.

More gunfire rang out then. More blasts. The bullets slammed right into the car. Brodie looked over and saw that Grant and Jennifer were in the backseat of Shayne’s wrecked car. The rear window had just shattered, spilling glass down on them as they curled over Sullivan.

Shayne was behind the wrecked car, trying to take aim up at a building on the right. Brodie caught the glint of a weapon on the third floor.

He didn’t follow us. He was waiting for us...

How had the guy known they’d be taking Nate to the police station?

Grant fired back at the shooter, and, using that gunfire as cover, Brodie ran toward the building on the right. The shooter was there...waiting. He could get him. But—

Police cruisers rushed up to the scene. Two of them. The cops jumped out and pointed their weapons at Brodie.

“Freeze!” a uniformed cop shouted. “And drop the weapon!”

The weapon? Brodie looked at his hand and saw the knife he’d picked up. Hell. Grabbing it had been second nature to him. “Wrong guy,” he told them. “I’m not the threat—he’s up there!”

“I said drop it!” the cop shouted.

Brodie looked up at the window. He was right out there in the open, a perfect target. So were the cops. If Brushard wanted to take him out, this was the moment. “He can kill us all. You need to get back behind your patrol car. Now.”

The cops came closer. “I told you—”

“I’m Detective Shayne Townsend!” Shayne’s voice seemed weaker than normal. “Badge 210. I’m the one who radioed in... That man is with me. We’ve got a shooter upstairs...third floor.”

The cops looked toward that window and hurriedly backed up. One called in and confirmed Shayne’s badge number.

But they kept their weapons pointed at Brodie.

“He’s getting away,” Brodie said. The man’s getaway had to be the reason why he hadn’t fired yet. “We can’t just stand here, waiting, while that shooter runs. He just killed a man!”

And those fresh-faced cops weren’t equipped to handle the guy. But Brodie was.

“Let me go after him,” Brodie snarled.

“No, everyone stay right where you are!” This shout came from the taller cop, the guy with red hair. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

“You’re letting him get away,” Brodie snapped.

“We need an ambulance!” Shayne called out. “Hurry!”

The cops got confirmation on Shayne’s badge, and they finally sprang into action. One ran toward the wrecked car.

One ran for the building—and Brodie was right behind him.

Brodie rushed up a flight of stairs, even as he heard the scream of more sirens outside. Help, coming in like a fury.

Too late for Nate. But not for Sullivan. Not for my brother.

They burst onto the third floor. The cop ran in with a shout, and Brodie had to jerk the guy back. But the third floor was empty, a cavernous open space in the abandoned building.

Damn it. He’d feared the shooter was getting away. When the bullets hadn’t torn into him, he’d known that deafening silence had meant that the perp was fleeing.

His hands fisted as he went toward the window on the right. The window that was still open and looked out on the street.

An ambulance was below. More patrol cars. Shayne was directing the scene, and Brodie saw that Sullivan had been pulled from the car.

“The third floor’s empty,” the cop said, and Brodie glanced back at him. The kid was on his radio. “We’ll search all the floors. We need backup!”

Brodie’s hand slammed into the window frame. A small chunk of glass fell loose when he hit it. Brodie frowned at that glass. He picked it up. Tilted it.

Light glinted off the glass.

The shooter wasn’t here. He was somewhere else... He wasn’t here!

Frantic now, his gaze went back to the street below. Jennifer was being pulled away by Shayne. She glanced up toward him, her face etched with fear and—

No!

“Jennifer!” he roared.

Sullivan was on a stretcher. Grant turned at Brodie’s shout.

Jennifer was out in the open. Too easy. What was Shayne thinking to let her stand out there like that? Shayne knew she was the guy’s target.

“Get cover!” Brodie yelled. “Get—”

Gunfire exploded.

But it didn’t hit Jennifer. Grant had grabbed her, and they’d hit the ground.

The sirens screamed again.

“He’s in the next building,” Brodie yelled. This time, he’d seen exactly where that shot came from. “Not this one! We need men in there before he hurts anyone else!”

Brodie and the fresh-faced cop rushed down the stairs. The scene on the street was chaos as the cops swarmed and hurried to search for the shooter.

Only...

They couldn’t find him.

Because even though they searched every room in the nearby building, the shooter was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

JENNIFER WASN’T EXACTLY a fan of police stations. Or rather, she didn’t enjoy sitting in an interrogation room for hours, being separated from Brodie and being forced to answer the same questions over and over again.

Brodie trusted Shayne Townsend, but it was quickly apparent that Shayne was more than a little suspicious of Jennifer. Not that Jennifer blamed him. He’d known her for a very short time, and, during the few hours of their acquaintance, he’d nearly been killed.

She was kind of a dangerous woman to know.

“I want you to tell me everything you can about Stephen Brushard.” Shayne sat across the table, glaring at her.

Weary, so very weary, Jennifer could only shake her head.

Pain knifed through her when she thought of Nate. His body had been bagged and tagged at the scene. Taken away...

Jennifer cleared her throat. “I’m his target.”

Shayne’s fingers drummed on the table. “Why is this guy longing for your death so much? Tell me everything. Every single detail about your relationship with him.”

“I can’t.” Her shoulders slumped with weariness. “Most of it is classified, and you don’t have the clearance to—”

His hands slammed onto the table. “A man was murdered less than ten feet from me! No one brings this kind of danger to my door.” His eyes turned to slits as he glared at her. “You think I’m going to stand back and let the McGuires all fall next?”

She shook her head. “The last thing I want is for them to be hurt.”

“But they have already been hurt—a great deal.” He opened a file and tossed the black-and-white picture toward her. It was the picture that she and Brodie had recovered from the Mustang, the picture of her and Brodie’s mother. “Are you tied to the death of Brodie’s parents?”

I don’t know. Her fingers brushed against the edge of the photograph.

“Was Stephen Brushard the man who killed Brodie’s parents?” Shayne demanded.

“I think he was in prison then.” She hadn’t even realized that he’d escaped. The last she’d heard about Stephen Brushard, he’d been sentenced to twenty years of confinement.

“Then you believe he hired someone?” Shayne pressed. “Because he was so determined to get to you? Is that what happened? He hired someone to—”

“I don’t know what happened!” Her breath heaved out. “I want to see Brodie. Is he okay? Is he—”

“Brodie is with Sullivan.” He motioned toward the mirror on the right. She knew it was a two-way mirror, but Jennifer didn’t know who was watching her from that other room. “They’re both in there,” Shayne said, as if reading her thoughts, “watching you.”

What? Instinctively, she shook her head.

“Brodie didn’t take kindly to the fact that his baby brother got caught in your cross fire. I mean, sure, Sullivan’s an ex-Marine, but there’s getting hurt in battle, and then there’s getting hurt for no damn reason at all.”

Her breath hitched. Brodie was just watching Shayne interrogate her?

“The thing is,” Shayne continued softly, “I can’t find any records about your so-called involvement with the government. Grant can’t get confirmation. No one can back up your story—”

“No one will back it up.” That wasn’t how these situations worked. “I was a ghost agent.” So deep undercover that only a few higher-ups at the CIA even knew about her. Those higher-ups would never confirm her identity.

Shayne cocked his head as he studied her. “I’m sorry, but you just don’t strike me as an agent. I mean...where’s the training? If you’re some secret agent, then how come you ran to Brodie for help? Why not take out the stalker yourself?”

Because she’d never taken anyone’s life.

“I don’t trust you,” he said flatly. “I think you’ve been lying to the McGuires all along. You know more about their parents’ death than you’re saying. You know more about Stephen Brushard, and you’re not getting out of here until I know every single one of your secrets.”

* * *

BRODIE PACED BACK and forth in the narrow room. “This is ridiculous!” He glared at the two-way mirror to his right. “Why are we still in interrogation?”

Grant rolled his shoulders. “Probably because a man was shot to death right in front of us, and our plan to nab a killer resulted in a four-block radius of Austin being shut down for hours.”

Brodie glared at his brother. “We answered their questions.” Shayne had been the one to ask those questions, again and again. Shayne, the guy who was supposed to be his friend. The only cop who’d never given up the hunt for the people who’d killed Brodie’s parents. Now he’s treating us all like suspects?

“I’m sure we’ll be given the all clear to go soon.” Grant was probably trying to sound reassuring.

Brodie wasn’t in the mood to be reassured. “Brushard’s out there. You know he’ll just come after her again. He’ll keep coming until he gets her.” Tension coiled within him. “And I’m tired of waiting for the guy to strike. I’m going after him. He’ll see what it’s like to be in the sights of a killer.”

Grant shook his head. “You aren’t a killer, Brodie.”

“You shouldn’t be so sure about that.” Grant always saw just what he wanted to see... Sometimes, Brodie didn’t think Grant realized who he had become.

“There are some lines that we can never cross, no matter how badly we may want to.” Grant rose to his feet. Faced Brodie. “Your emotions can make you too dangerous– especially the emotions you feel for that woman.”

“Jennifer,” Brodie snapped. “Her name is—”

“How do you even know what her real name is? My contacts at the CIA turned up nothing on her.”

“Because she had deep cover. She did. Nate did and—”

“Before he was shot, that Nate guy tried to kill Sullivan and Shayne. Not exactly the work of an upstanding government agent.” Grant crossed his arms over his chest as he studied Brodie. “Are you certain you’re making the right choice with her? Because, man, I’m not so sure you’re thinking with a cool head on this one.” A pause. “I’m not so sure you’re using your head at all.”

His brother was going to throw that bull at him? Grant sure wasn’t in a position to judge. The guy had gone near crazy when the woman he loved—Scarlett Stone—had been threatened a few months back...and Scarlett had possessed plenty of secrets, too. “Grant—” Brodie began angrily.

The interrogation room door opened. A weary-looking Shayne stood on the threshold. “You two can go.”

“About damn time,” Brodie snapped.

Shayne’s lips thinned. “A man died on my watch today. Because I agreed to help you.” Shayne’s expression was unyielding. “From here on out, I’m going by the book. And if the McGuires can’t follow the law, you’ll find yourselves under arrest.”

Shayne was threatening them?

“Where’s Jennifer?” Brodie asked as he strode toward Shayne. “I want her to—”

“She’s not clear to leave.”

“What?” He couldn’t have just heard right.

“I’m holding her as a material witness.”

No way. No—

“Don’t worry, I’ll put her in a safe house. She’ll have around-the-clock guards.”

“It’s not her!” Brodie was less than a foot away from his friend. “It’s Brushard. He’s the one we need to take down!”

Shayne nodded. “And the Austin PD will take him down. The right way—I told you that before. We’ll handle the case in a way that doesn’t involve a shoot-out in the middle of the damn street.” He gave Brodie a curt nod. “Now, you two are free to leave, but Ms. Wesley will be staying with me.”

No way. “I want to see her.”

Shayne hesitated. “That’s not a good idea right now. She’s in processing—”

“She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“How do you know?” Shayne erupted. “I can’t find a single detail about her from my government contacts. Nothing about her and nothing about the guy down in my morgue. I’m not going to let that woman slip through my fingers.” His breath huffed out. “I became a target tonight. Nate Wesley tried to kill me. He was choking me when my car slammed into that pole. He was going to kill me.”

“Shayne...”

“Cut your ties with Jennifer Wesley. She’s not your problem any longer. She’s mine.”

The hell she was.

Shayne pointed at Brodie. At Grant. “I know you two think you’re above the law, but you’re not, and my friendship...it only extends so far. We’ve reached that line. Try to go over my head, try to interfere in my investigation, and I will lock you both up for obstruction.”

The threat hung in the air for a moment; then Shayne turned and marched away. He didn’t look back.

“What is happening here?” Brodie demanded.

Grant was staring after Shayne’s retreating form.

“He can’t just keep her...” Brodie needed to see Jennifer. He had to talk to her.

“Yes,” Grant said softly, “he can.”

We’ll see about that.

* * *

WHEN THE DOOR to the interrogation room flew open, Jennifer’s head snapped up. Her breath heaved from her as she stared—

At Brodie?

Jennifer jumped to her feet even as he hurried toward her.

“Sullivan!” she said instantly. “Is he—”

“He’s fine. It’s takes one hell of a lot more than that to take out my kid brother.” He pulled her into his arms, held her tight. And it seemed as if Jennifer could finally draw in a deep breath.

His arms were so warm and strong around her, and Jennifer hadn’t even realized how cold she’d been, not until that moment. “I understand,” she told him. She needed to say those words. She looked up but didn’t let him go. “I know why you’re pulling away from me, and that’s—”

He kissed her. Brodie’s mouth crushed down on her. There was nothing soft or gentle about that kiss. It was hard, consuming, burning with desire.

And maybe someone was watching them through that two-way mirror. Maybe it was a whole roomful of cops.

She didn’t care. Her mouth opened beneath his, and Jennifer kissed him back as passionately as she could.

These may be my last moments with him. Part of her was very, very afraid that Brodie was just there to tell her goodbye.

Her lips parted even more. Her body was smashed into his, so tightly, so perfectly, and the fear was gone. With Brodie, need and desire were always so close to her surface. When he touched her, she let go of her control. She let go of her doubts.

She held on to him.

His tongue slid against hers. He growled low in his throat, and the kiss grew even more demanding. He was tasting her, taking her, and the kiss felt more like a claiming than anything else.

It didn’t feel like goodbye.

More like a promise of passion to come.

His head slowly lifted, but his arms were still around her. She could feel his desire pressing into her.

“Brodie?” Jennifer shook her head, truly not understanding now. “You were watching the interrogation. You thought—”

“The hell I was.” His words were an angry snarl. “Shayne had me and Grant in interrogation, too. Asking his questions again and again until I wanted to forget the fact that he was a friend and drive my fist into him.”

Confused now, Jennifer shook her head again. “But...he said you were watching my interrogation. That you were angry with me because of what happened to Sullivan.” She had a flash of Sullivan, pinned in that backseat. There had been blood all over his face—streaming down from what she knew had been a broken nose. She’d been so desperate to pull him out of that wreckage and to make sure that he was all right.

You have to be all right. Brodie needs you. You have to be all right. Only when Sullivan was finally clear of the car had Jennifer realized she’d been whispering those words again and again.

It was just that she knew how important Brodie’s family was to him. A big part of her envied him that family connection. To be so tied to others, to know that they would always be there for you... She’d never had that.

She probably never would.

“He lied,” Brodie said flatly. “Nate is the one that caused that wreck, and Brushard... I don’t know how he knew to lie in wait at that exact spot, but he was ready for us. Almost like someone had tipped off the jerk.”

She tried to remember more information about Stephen. “He had a network that he used. Blackmail was his specialty. He’d find people’s weak points, and he’d use them. He’d get others to do his dirty work for him—that was why it was so hard to tie him to the crimes.” Until she’d gotten lucky that night.

“He used Nate,” Brodie said as his gaze sharpened on her. “And he’s using someone else, too. Maybe someone in the police department. Shayne called the station before we left McGuire Securities—he told them we were coming in.”

And then someone from the PD had contacted Stephen?

“He wants to put you in protective custody,” Brodie said.

“What?”

“He says you’re a material witness.”

Her heart slammed into her chest. “I don’t want to stay here.” Because if someone was working with Stephen, she could be a sitting duck.

His forehead leaned down to touch hers. “I was afraid.”

His confession seemed so stark in that narrow interrogation room.

“I looked down on the street, and you were a perfect target to him. I tried to warn you, but I was afraid it was too late.” He kissed her again. A slow, long kiss. “I didn’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

Grant had been there, grabbing her, yanking her to safety.

“I want you in my life,” Brodie told her. “When that SOB is locked up, when you’re not always looking over your shoulder, I want you to stay with me.”

Jennifer didn’t know what to say.

“I want to know Jennifer Wesley and Jenny Belmont. Hell, I want to know you—under any name you want. In that moment, when I was so damn afraid you’d die before me, I knew...Jennifer, I knew that what I feel for you isn’t just some desire that’s going to wane. I’ve wanted you for years, and now that you’re back in my life—”

The door opened behind them. “Brodie?” Shayne demanded, voice sharp with surprise. “What the hell are you doing in here? There was supposed to be a guard on this room!”

“I’m not going to just watch you leave again,” Brodie finished softly. Then he kissed her once more, not seeming to care that the detective was marching toward them.

“Brodie!”

Taking his time, Brodie lifted his head.

Shayne grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “You can’t be in here.”

Brodie just shrugged, not looking particularly concerned.

“She’s in police custody now. This isn’t a PI case anymore.”

Jennifer twisted her hands in front of her.

“Nate Wesley is on a slab in my morgue. But according to every file I can find, that guy died in a boating accident. So now I have to deal with a man who’d died—twice—and I have to stop some criminal who broke out of a Russian jail and is determined to bring hell to my town.” Shayne huffed out a breath. “So I’m telling you...the McGuires have to back off on this one. I’ve taken over, and I’ll protect her. Trust me.”

“When it comes to Jennifer,” Brodie said with a slow roll of his shoulders that somehow appeared menacing, “I don’t trust many people.” His eyes were filled with a turbulent green fire. “And I think you’ve got a leak in the PD. Someone tipped off Brushard—that’s how he knew where to wait for us. Someone here—”

“You think I don’t know that?” Shayne demanded quietly as his gaze cut toward the two-way mirror. “I’m the one who’ll be taking her into custody. I’m the one who’ll stay with her. You can count on me to protect her.”

Brodie shook his head.

Shayne straightened his shoulders. As Jennifer watched, his expression became cold. Hard. This was the cop she was staring at, not Brodie’s friend, not any longer. “This isn’t up for debate. That woman is a material witness, and she’s staying in police custody. Fight me on this, and I’ll lock you up.”

Brodie’s hands had fisted. “Be very careful,” he murmured, “about starting a war with me.”

“I don’t have a choice.” Shayne marched back toward the interrogation door. He yanked it open and called for officers. Three uniformed men hurried inside. Shayne inclined his head toward Brodie. “Escort Mr. McGuire outside. Make absolutely certain that he leaves the station. If he doesn’t, if he fights you, put him in lockup.”

Brodie took a menacing step forward. Jennifer grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

His enraged stare met hers.

“Don’t do it. If you get locked up, that’s not going to help anyone.” She tried to smile for him, but it was hard when she just wanted to grab him and hold on tight. “I’ll be okay.”

“Escort him out,” Shayne ordered. “And make sure he doesn’t bribe his way back inside.”

“I’ll be okay,” Jennifer said again as those cops closed in on him.

His gaze raked over her face. “Remember what I said. I won’t just watch you leave. Trust me.”

The cops pulled him toward the door.

You don’t have to watch me leave this time, Jennifer thought. I’m watching you.

The door shut behind him.

* * *

“THANKS ONE HELL of a lot,” Brodie snarled as the uniforms left him outside the PD. They flushed and muttered apologies.

“Uh...getting kicked out of a police station?” Grant asked, striding toward him as he shook his head. “That’s a new one, even for you.”

He whirled on his brother. “Shayne’s trying to take her away.”

“In light of what happened, you don’t think that might be a good thing? Until Brushard is caught—”

“How would you feel if someone took Scarlett from you?” Scarlett was the woman that Grant had loved for most of his life. Loved—and nearly lost far too recently. Now Grant guarded the woman like a hawk.

Grant’s jaw hardened. “You know what that would be like for me.”

“Then don’t tell me this is a good thing. I need to be close to her.” He glared up at the police station. Shayne wasn’t going to shut him out. Not when Jennifer’s safety was on the line.

“What can I do?” Grant asked him.

And that was the way things were with them. Always had been. “Sullivan needs you now.” Their brother was in the hospital, and he needed family close to him. “Davis and I...we can handle this.” Davis had connections that he could use. Connections he would use.

“How close are you about to get to breaking the law?”

He tilted back his head as he stared at the PD once more. “It’s about to get bent.”

* * *

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND... Why are you doing this?” Jennifer turned to face Detective Shayne Townsend. They’d just entered the “safe house,” but Jennifer was sure not feeling safe as she stood there with him.

The little apartment was on a back street in Austin, positioned up on the third floor of a run-down building. The elevator had been broken, so they’d climbed the three flights of stairs that took them up to the apartment.

The carpet was threadbare beneath her feet. The only furniture in the small den was a sagging sofa and a small wooden coffee table.

“I’m trying to keep you alive, Ms. Wesley.” He double-checked the locks. Another cop was outside. Shayne had given him orders to check the perimeter.

“I was alive with Brodie.”

“You jeopardized his family. In case you didn’t notice, nothing comes before family. Not for the McGuires.”

She rubbed her chilled arms. “You said that Sullivan was all right.”

“He is...but if there are too many more run-ins with your stalker, I might not be able to say that for long.” He motioned toward the door on the right. “There’s a bedroom in there for you to use. We’ve only got one bathroom in this joint, so we’ll be sharing.”

Right. She glanced down at the floor.

“We got the results back on that knife that Brodie found at the Montgomery ranch.”

Her gaze whipped back up to him.

“No prints. The only DNA was yours. Your blood.”

Stephen had been very careful. “So we’re back to nothing.”

He shook his head. “We’re back to looking for a ghost.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a file. She inched closer to him so that she could see the name on that file. “Stephen Brushard.”

She stared at the name, and, suddenly, she wasn’t in a run-down apartment. She was back in Russia. In a ballroom, in a castle. A place right out of a dream. And Stephen had been there. Bowing to her. Asking her to dance.

For a moment, she’d forgotten that she was just living a lie. She’d thought she was living a dream.

Prince Charming.

Then she’d found out that he was the real villain of the tale.

“He’s dead.” Shayne pulled out a typewritten report. One written in Russian. “He was attacked in his cell.”

She grabbed the report. Scanned it. Stephen had been found with a knife in his side. He’d been alive when he went to the infirmary, but he hadn’t survived long after that. His body had been cremated within hours of his death. That recorded death had happened a year ago.

“Not him,” Jennifer said flatly. “He didn’t die—he just escaped.” But at least they had a timeline now. So Stephen couldn’t have killed Brodie’s parents. But...maybe someone he’d hired had? The same person who’d taken that picture of her at the ranch.

“You can read Russian?”

She almost rolled her eyes. “I was a spy. Do you think they would have sent me out to all of those countries if I only spoke English?” She’d had a gift for language and an ability to drop and acquire an accent at will.