Kitabı oku: «Special Assignment», sayfa 3

Chapter Four

Mike stood in front of Milo Kardascian’s garage and watched the Denver Police Department SUV wind around curves and down the slope on its way to the cabin. He’d already answered a slew of questions from the Jefferson County sheriff’s deputy who’d arrived on the scene first. He’d thought the worst thing that could happen at this point was to be asked to relive his failure to save Kardascian’s life one more time. He was wrong. Explaining why he was in this situation to the lieutenant promised to be even more miserable.

Denver PD? Cassie’s fingers trembled slightly as she signed, but other than that, she seemed more pulled together than he felt. Why is the Denver PD here? Isn’t this outside their jurisdiction?

It’s my lieutenant.

Cassie searched his face. Is that bad?

I wish I knew. And that was the part that was driving him nuts. He was used to being on the inside during a scene like this. Gathering evidence. Talking to the medical examiner. Having officers and experts report to him. Standing around waiting for the next bout of questions with no clue what was going on was killing him.

Especially when they seemed to be treating him as more suspect than witness.

He shifted his feet on the concrete apron in front of the garage. No point in venting all that to Cassie. She’d been through too much already this morning. She sure didn’t need more to worry about on top of it. How are you holding up?

She gave him an unconvincing smile. Fine.

Right.

Okay, not so fine. I’ve never seen someone die before. Especially someone who was murdered. And all the blood. Her shoulders hitched with a small shudder. I’m still feeling a little shaken, I guess.

Hell, who could blame her? Even though he’d seen more than his share of dead bodies, he was shuddering right along with her. Not enough to notice, but he could feel the tremor deep in his bones.

Maybe a man dying under your fingertips did that to you.

He resisted the urge to look down at his stained hands, Kardascian’s blood dark in the creases of his skin, or his jeans, the denim now as stiff as if it had been sprayed with starch. I’m sorry you had to go through all this.

I’m just glad you were there with me so I didn’t have to face it alone. One side of her lips quirked upward in some semblance of a half smile. No matter what I said before.

You’re welcome. I wish I could do more. Like get you out of here. He raked a hand through his hair. If I only knew what the hell was going on.

Maybe the lieutenant will let you know what they’ve found. Cassie focused clear eyes on the SUV, as if she believed that by positive thinking and the force of will she could influence the mind of the man inside. Maybe he’ll convince the county to let us go home.

Mike wasn’t going to hold his breath for that to happen. But he wasn’t about to dash Cassie’s hopes, either. Maybe so.

The SUV came to a stop behind the boxy, tan sheriff’s cars and three doors swung open. The LT, Tim Grady and a veteran officer named Hawley climbed out and threaded their way to the sidewalk. Grady gave Mike a gap-toothed grin, the worried lines in his forehead canceling the comic value of his smile. The lieutenant and Officer Hawley passed without a glance.

The contingent of Denver PD climbed the steps to the front entrance of the elaborate cabin and joined the huddle of sheriff’s men. The LT nodded his graying head as they filled him in.

Mike felt like crawling out of his skin. What he wouldn’t give to be part of that huddle. What he wouldn’t give to know what they were saying right now.

He eyed Cassie, then glanced back to the group of cops.

Cassie touched his arm. What? she signed.

He checked himself. It wasn’t a very nice idea. Definitely not an ethical one. And something he shouldn’t even be thinking in connection to Cassie, let alone be presenting to her. Nothing.

You’re wondering if I can read their lips?

Hell, she could read more than lips. She could read his mind. Not a good idea.

She shrugged a shoulder. A mischievous smile curved the corners of her mouth and twinkled in her eyes. Why not? If they were talking loud enough for you to overhear, wouldn’t you listen?

No, I wouldn’t, he signed.

She gave a derisive snort. Sure. And if you couldn’t avoid it, you would keep whatever it is to yourself. You wouldn’t think to tell me.

He shook his head, trying to keep his serious expression in place. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, as much as he enjoyed seeing the mischievous glint replace the shell-shocked look in Cassie’s eyes, he really couldn’t let her get any more involved than she already was. Really, Cassie, you’re tangled up enough in this mess. Besides, it’s not ethical.

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. You really are as honest as Evangeline says, aren’t you?

He looked down at the concrete apron under his feet. How in the hell was he supposed to answer that one? I’m a cop.

“Well, I’m not,” she said out loud.

When he returned his gaze to her face, he wasn’t surprised to see she was watching the deputies brief his lieutenant. A tall county sheriff’s detective with a craggy face and salt-and-pepper hair spoke slowly and deliberately. His lips had to be a piece of cake for Cassie to read, even from this distance.

So much for his worry over her getting more involved.

They determined the path of entry was through the sliding glass door in the workout room. Cassie translated what she was seeing into sign language. Never mind that we told them we came in that way, she added.

Mike couldn’t prevent a chuckle from escaping. Cassie was handling this whole ordeal with humor and attitude that surprised him. She certainly could roll with difficult circumstances. Probably better than he could.

They talked to Evangeline, Cassie continued. She confirmed that we were here to talk to Mr. Kardascian about a case for PPS…but when they asked to see her client files, she told them to get a warrant.

That Evangeline was a tough cookie. Mike would expect nothing less. The prospect of trying to get information out of her was almost enough to make him grateful he wasn’t on the investigation end of this case…almost. As long as his hunch was wrong and he wasn’t a suspect.

Officer Hawley turned away from the group. He surveyed the cabin, pausing on Mike. His eyes latched on to Cassie just as she commenced signing.

Damn.

They found something. Cassie’s fingers flew.

Mike laid a hand on her arm.

She held up a hand and nodded that she saw him, but she didn’t tear her gaze from the sheriff’s detective’s lips and she didn’t still her hands. Something in the bushes outside the glass door.

Hawley started toward them.

They found a weapon…the murder weapon…a gun… She turned to look at Mike, her eyes wide.

Oh, hell.

“What is she doing?” Hawley closed in on them. “She’s reading lips, isn’t she? She’s reporting every word.”

On the sidewalk, the cluster of cops broke up. The LT and Grady stayed on the sidewalk, two deputies headed their way.

Mike held up his hands, trying to head off the thuggish Denver PD officer. “Back off, Hawley.”

Cassie just stared at Mike as if oblivious to Hawley or the sheriff’s deputies, a stricken look on her face.

Hawley reached for Cassie’s arm. “Ma’am, you’re going to have to come with me.”

Mike took a step forward. “She doesn’t have to go anywhere.”

“Who are you to decide a damn thing, Lawson? You’re suspended. You’re not even a cop anymore. If you were ever really a cop in the first place.”

Good. At least Hawley’s focus was on him, not Cassie. “What do you mean by that?”

An ugly sneer twisted Hawley’s handsome face. “Cops don’t sell out their own.”

“Whoa. Hold on.” The county detective caught up to Hawley, shooting him a look as if to remind him he was in the county’s jurisdiction and he’d better know his place. “Your lieutenant wants to see you.”

Officer Ted Hawley might be a jerk, but he had the good sense to retreat, even though all of them knew the LT hadn’t said a word. Mike eyed the county man. “What’s going down, Detective?”

“Lawson, you need to take a trip to the sheriff’s offices with us.”

Mike’s gut plummeted. In his mind’s eye, he replayed the look Cassie had given him. Shock. Fear. He hadn’t been able to pay attention with Hawley homing in, but he thought it had something to do with the gun they’d found. The murder weapon. His gun? The service pistol he’d lost? Was that it? He eyed the detective. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Come with me and I’ll fill you in on the details.”

More like he’d interrogate him eight ways from Sunday. Damn. Mike had been wanting more information, but being the suspect in this investigation was a bit more inside than he had in mind. Next time he really had to be more careful about what he wished for. “Should I call my union representative?”

“You really want to lawyer up, Lawson? Or would you rather clear this up?”

The same question he’d ask if a suspect started making noises about calling in legal representation. Mike glanced at Cassie. Still, if he went willingly and didn’t piss the detective off, maybe he could keep Cassie out of this mess. “I’ll go. But Ms. Allen doesn’t have anything to do with this. Someone needs to take her back to the Prescott Personal Securities office.”

The county detective’s expression was a perfect blank. “Sorry. We need to talk to her, too.”

CASSIE’S FINGERS SHOOK as she signed the same thing to the blank-faced sheriff’s deputy for what had to be the fifth time. Mike Lawson didn’t kill that man.

The deputy shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll see if I can contact someone who knows sign language.”

Cassie pushed out a frustrated breath. After a few cursory questions, the deputy who had transported her to the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department in Golden had told her she was free to go. In the two hours since, she’d been trying to get someone to listen to her pleas of Mike’s innocence. Meanwhile they were raking Mike over the coals for the murder of a man he’d tried to save.

She forced her voice to work, feeling the uncertain vibration in her vocal chords. “Mike Lawson didn’t kill that man.”

He gave her a gentle smile. No, not gentle. Patronizing. Pitying. The reason she hated to speak out loud.

“You already spoke to a detective, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But he didn’t listen.”

“I assure you, he listened. And he’ll get in touch with you if he has any more questions or concerns. You gave him your contact information? Your home address?” He rounded his mouth with each word, speaking deliberately as if to a frightened child. One who couldn’t speak English. And she’d just bet that his voice was raised to the level of a shout, as well.

Cassie felt like growling. She’d bet that would inspire an interesting response in this guy. “He has my home address, my work address and every other type of contact information known to man. What he doesn’t have is the truth.”

“That is what the investigation is for, ma’am.”

“No kidding.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you expect me to do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job.” Another pitying smile and the deputy walked away.

Cassie ground her teeth. She didn’t know what she expected, either. But whatever it was, it didn’t have anything to do with a good man being blamed for a murder he didn’t commit.

The shock that had rocketed through her when she’d read the officer’s lips at the scene was still sending aftershocks through her arms and legs. Mike’s gun found at the scene…Mike’s gun recently fired… Mike’s gun…

It was ridiculous. Mike was an honest cop. Hell, he was the poster boy for honest cops. How could they think he’d killed Milo Kardascian?

A light touch on her shoulder jolted through her. She whirled around and looked into the face of one of the cops who’d been at Kardascian’s cabin. The cop she’d first seen in Mike’s hospital room. Mike’s partner, Tim Grady.

“I’m sorry to startle you.” His lips formed the words, revealing a gap-toothed smile.

Normally Cassie would have smiled back. Today she wasn’t in the mood. “Mike Lawson didn’t kill that man.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Even though she couldn’t hear her own voice, she could feel its tremble. “If you know, why is he still in there? Why are they still asking him questions?”

“This isn’t my case. It happened outside the Denver city limits. The county has jurisdiction. And they don’t know Mike like you and I do. They have to go strictly by evidence.”

“What evidence? His gun?”

Surprise widened Detective Grady’s eyes.

Cassie almost clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d forgotten she wasn’t supposed to know about the gun.

Tim Grady narrowed his eyes, studying her. “His service weapon was found at the scene. Yes.”

“But Mike didn’t even have the gun. It was stolen when he was beaten up. Wasn’t that why he was suspended?”

“The sheriff’s department can’t just take Mike’s word for that. Theoretically he could have reported it missing when he had it all along. In fact, I’m afraid that could make his situation worse.”

“How?” She couldn’t imagine things being worse than this. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.

“It shows premeditation.”

She shook her head. How could this be happening? This was getting out of hand. Way out of hand. “But I was with him at Kardascian’s house. He was trying to save the man’s life, not kill him. And I have no reason to lie. Why can’t they take my word?”

“You were with him the entire time?”

She scanned through her memory. It had all happened so fast. It was all so unexpected. She’d been arguing with Mike about who was going to ask Kardascian about Nick Warner, about the “list,” about the disk she was trying to decode. She’d thought Mike was exaggerating about the possible danger. She’d thought he and Evangeline were merely coddling the deaf girl.

But that was before Mike saw something in the garage. Before he’d ordered her to lock herself in the car and call 9-1-1. Before she’d gone looking for him and found him beside Kardascian…up to his elbows in blood.

“You weren’t with him the entire time, were you?”

She stared at Grady’s lips. She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want to admit it was true. “I was with him almost the entire time.”

“But not the entire time.”

Her shoulders slumped. “When I caught up with him, he was trying to save Mr. Kardascian’s life. Doesn’t that count?”

“Not good enough. Like I said, the county sheriff can’t just take our word for it. They have to go by the evidence.”

Evidence. Since Mike didn’t kill Kardascian, there wasn’t any evidence to find, right? And weren’t people supposed to be innocent until proven guilty? “What kind of evidence do they need?”

“Enough to prove he had the means and opportunity to kill Milo Kardascian.”

Cassie nodded. “The means, meaning the gun, right?”

“Right.”

“And the opportunity?”

“The space of time that you weren’t with him. The time he and Kardascian were alone.”

“He didn’t do it.” If she still had her hearing, she could swear she hadn’t heard gun fire, but as things were she wasn’t a lot of help. Still, there had to be something. “He had no reason to do it. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Motive. It counts for a lot in court, even though it’s not required to charge him.”

“So go tell the county detective that Mike had no motive.”

Detective Grady shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? I thought you were his partner. His friend.”

“I am. But it wouldn’t be the truth.”

Cassie stared at him. What was he trying to say? She tried to ask, tried to make her voice function, but it caught in her throat as if she’d forgotten how to speak.

“How well do you know Mike, Ms. Allen?”

Cassie chewed her bottom lip. She’d worked with him on a couple of cases. Flirted with him a little. Fantasized about him, certainly. She liked him, more than she felt comfortable with most of the time. But other than that, she supposed she knew very little about him. “Enough to know he’s no murderer.”

Grady nodded. “I believe that, too. But it’s not that simple. Mike and Kardascian have a history.”

Cassie didn’t have to try very hard to remember the exchange between Evangeline and Mike when the millionaire CEO’s picture flashed on the screen in the PPS boardroom. And on the drive to Kardascian’s cabin, Mike had warned her the man had a brutal nature. And that he’d been in trouble with police. “What history?”

“Mike was called to Kardascian’s house a few times. And his condo downtown. That was back before either one of us made detective.”

“Mike told me about that.” A sure sign he had nothing to hide. Right?

“The last call…Kardascian had beat up his girlfriend. Bad.”

Cassie sucked in a breath despite her attempt to face whatever Detective Grady said with her utmost cool.

“It wasn’t the first time. Milo Kardascian was kind of known for taking out his frustrations on whatever woman was attracted enough to his money to put up with him. That last call…” Detective Grady paused, as if he had to force himself to go on. “Mike crossed the line. He messed up Kardascian pretty good.”

Cassie’s head snapped back as if the words were a physical blow. She didn’t know what she’d expected Grady to say, but it wasn’t this. “Mike hit him?”

“Bastard deserved it. Didn’t want to stop beating on the woman even for the police. So Mike stopped him.” Tim’s lips pulled back in a hint of a smile. The smile quickly faded. “Kardascian went after Mike, though. Called in political favors. Made Mike’s life a living hell for a while. Almost drummed him off the force. Certainly slowed down his career. It’s the only reason I made detective before Mike.”

“That’s why they think Mike killed him? Payback?”

The detective lifted a shoulder. “It’s been known to happen.”

Cassie shook her head. “They have to know Mike wouldn’t do that. The rest of his record should speak for itself.”

“Like I said, it comes down to evidence. Whether or not ballistics can prove Mike’s service pistol is the murder weapon. Whether or not a powder residue test proves he recently fired it.” He gave her a smile filled not with pity, but understanding. Maybe even sympathy. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that you believe in him, though.”

She did believe in him. After what had happened with Kardascian, she even had a limited appreciation for his protective streak. If she had stumbled onto the millionaire’s murder alone, who knew what could have happened? She might be in the morgue right now, beside the CEO. “He’s always done a good job on the cases he worked with PPS.”

“Sure.” He gave her a grin suggesting he thought her belief in Mike went deeper than that.

She shifted uncomfortably. “He has done a good job. A very good job. Evangeline says he’s one of the most honest cops in Denver. And after that Dirty Three scandal, I sometimes wonder if he’s the last one left.” She paused, realizing the implication of her words. “No offense. I know there are plenty of honest cops. I’m just frustrated.”

“No offense taken.” His smile widened to show the gap. “And I agree. Mike is an honest cop and I’m sure the evidence will show it.”

She hoped so. She sure hoped so. For obvious reasons…and reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Chapter Five

“So, can I go?” Mike eyed the sheriff’s detective, a guy named Abramson that he’d grown far too familiar with over the past several hours. Hell, he didn’t even know how much time he’d spent staring at the government beige walls in this tiny box of an interview room, nothing but two chairs and a camera staring down at him from the corner. But however long he’d been here was too long. Much too long.

Abramson frowned down at the new report he’d just been handed. His eyebrows pulled together, forming a single bushy ridge topping his craggy features. “The preliminary ballistics examination shows your Sig Sauer is likely the murder weapon.”

Mike took a deep breath, trying to quell his rising frustration. “I’m not saying it wasn’t. I just didn’t fire it.” Abramson had taken swabs of his forearms several hours before to test for gun-powder residue, evidence that he’d recently fired a gun. Since he hadn’t, the test had to come back negative.

Provided this whole thing wasn’t some sort of setup to do away with a traitor cop. For all he knew, Abramson could be drinking buddies with the Dirty Three. At the very least, he was a cop, and cops, as Mike’s dad was fond of repeating, took care of their own. “What about the residue test?”

“The results aren’t back yet.”

“They’re going to be negative. Your killer is out on the streets right now, covering up anything that leads to him. And all the while you’re wasting time with me. And Cassie Allen.”

Abramson leaned forward. “That’s one thing I don’t understand. How does Ms. Allen fit into all of this?”

Mike felt a hitch low in his gut. “She doesn’t.” He shouldn’t have mentioned Cassie at all. Instead of convincing the county detective she had nothing to do with the case, all he’d done was show he was concerned about her. And if this was Mike’s case, he’d do exactly what Abramson was doing—he’d try to exploit that concern to get answers.

“I’d like to believe that, Lawson. Ms. Allen seems like a nice woman. But I have yet to hear a good reason for her being at Kardascian’s house. And until someone sheds some light on that, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep asking questions.”

Mike forced himself to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Ask away, but my answers are going to be the same ones I’ve been giving all day. I didn’t kill Kardascian. I found him with a bullet hole in his chest, and I tried to save him. Why won’t you listen to me?”

“I need the overtime.”

Mike slumped back in his chair. Just what he needed, a detective who was even more fond of sarcasm than he was.

“Don’t take this personally, Lawson. I think you’re a great cop. Hell, I think you did the right thing, offing a bastard like Kardascian. The guy had it coming for a long time.”

Mike couldn’t agree more. But he knew enough not to admit it.

“Hell, if someone like Kardascian laid a hand on a little dish like Cassie Allen and I had anything to say about it, I’d probably do the same thing.”

“By the time Cassie saw Kardascian, he was dead.”

“I didn’t say he laid a hand on her today.”

Mike’s ears burned. He wanted nothing more than to set the detective straight. The thought of him implying Cassie…

“Yeah, if it was up to me, I’d give you a medal. A lifesaving award for taking Kardascian out of the way. But at least you get Cassie Allen’s undying gratitude. That makes going through all this crap worth it, I bet.”

He gritted his teeth, keeping his mouth firmly shut. Abramson was fishing. He could never tie Cassie to Kardascian, because the connection didn’t exist. But if Mike showed he cared too much about her, Abramson would sure as hell connect Cassie to him. A connection that—if Abramson was pals with the Dirty Three—could bring her all sorts of trouble she didn’t deserve.

He never should have taken Evangeline’s assignment.

“When I think about what it would be like to have her indebted to me, I can understand exactly why you’d take out Kardascian.”

Mike grunted. “You should write fiction, Abramson.”

“Come on. You can’t tell me she isn’t grateful for what you did.”

“I escorted Cassie Allen to Kardascian’s to discuss a case he’s involved with at PPS. Anything beyond that is a figment of your imagination.”

“You want to stick with that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“What if I tell you Cassie Allen is singing a very different story?”

Mike’s gut bunched like a fist. Cassie hadn’t made up something in a misguided effort to save him, had she? If she had, he needed to set things straight and he needed to set them straight now. “If she’s saying she has anything to do with Kardascian or me, she’s lying.”

The county detective studied him through narrowed eyes. “Even if what she said saves your ass?”

Mike nodded. “Even then. She’d never seen Kardascian face-to-face until today. And all that’s ever been between her and me is work. I headed up a Denver PD task force that worked with Evangeline Prescott on a couple of occasions, and Cassie is an employee of PPS. End of story.”

“And you’re sticking to that?”

“Yes.”

“Your funeral.”

A knock sounded.

Abramson ambled to the door. He opened it and a deputy handed him a report. He closed the door and paced across the floor of the small interview room, looking down at the paperwork in his hands.

The residue-test result. It had to be.

Mike waited. If someone in the sheriff’s department had doctored the evidence against him, this would be the time to hit him with it. Abramson would use it like a club to try to pummel him into a confession.

Abramson kept walking, his club nowhere in sight.

Time for Mike to do a little pushing. “So what’s next, Detective? Are you going to arrest me now, or am I free to go?”

Abramson kept pacing as if he hadn’t heard.

“You can’t prove the gun was in my possession or that it was fired by me. Your only witness says I was trying to save Kardascian’s life. You have nothing. Do I have to call a lawyer to pry me out of this place?”

Abramson stared at him for a full ten seconds without blinking. Twenty. Finally he shrugged his bony shoulders. “Yeah. Go. What the hell. I know where to find you.”

Mike pushed to his feet, the muscles in his legs eager for the movement. “You don’t have reason to hold Cassie Allen, either.”

“She left a couple of hours ago.”

A couple of hours? Good. He’d read Abramson right. All his talk was just that, talk. Designed to exploit any guilt Mike might be feeling, to press him into a corner. If he really believed there was any significance to the relationship between Mike and Cassie, he would have held her for questioning as long as he legally could.

“She was trying to convince us you’re a saint.”

Cassie? A warm shimmer loosened the unease in his gut. Since walking into the PPS offices this morning, he’d gotten the unmistakable impression she didn’t want him anywhere near her. It felt good that she believed in him after all.

He caught himself before the feeling went too far. “She doesn’t know me very well.”

Abramson shot him a droll look. “Apparently not. You can get your truck back tomorrow. If we’re done with it by then. The handgun you had with you at Kardascian’s might take a little longer.” Abramson pulled open the door.

“Great.” If losing his backup weapon and finding a ride back to the ranch were the biggest problems he faced after all this, he was lucky. He supposed he could always call the old man about the ride. Whether his father would choose to answer was anyone’s guess.

“Stick around town,” Abramson said. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions for you.”

“I know the drill.” Mike stepped out of the room and walked down the short hall leading to the front vestibule. Relief filtered through his blood and penetrated his bones with each step. As long as Cassie wasn’t dragged into this mess, he could deal with it. And the first thing he’d do—even before figuring out a way to get home without his truck—was to call Evangeline and demand she find Cassie a real bodyguard. One the Dirty Three and their supporters still on the job weren’t gunning for.

With Abramson on his heels, Mike rounded the corner and pushed through the heavy door to the vestibule.

There standing in the entrance to the sheriff’s department headquarters was Cassie. A smile of relief broke over her face that only a blind man could miss. She raised her hands. I thought you might need a ride.

CASSIE KEPT HER EYES on the road. The bad thing about preferring to sign instead of speak was that she couldn’t carry on much of a conversation while driving.

That was the good thing, too.

Since they’d left the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department and gotten on Highway 58 out of Golden, Mike had been on a solid rant about the dangers of letting law enforcement know she had anything to do with him. From what she’d chosen to read from his lips and flying hands, she got the distinct impression he wanted to wrap her up in Bubble Wrap and pack her away for her own good.

Luckily, though it was late enough at night that the traffic was light, she had to focus on the road. An easy way to tune him out. And with her hands on the wheel, he certainly couldn’t expect her to reply. But the urge to give him a return lecture about how she already had a doting, overprotective father and she didn’t need him to fill that role pressed at her lips.

She took in a deep breath. The sweet smell of malt from the Coors brewery still filled the car’s interior, almost drowning out the subtle scent of leather and male.

Almost.

She had to be crazy, going back to the sheriff’s department to pick up Mike. Or maybe she was just a masochist. Whenever he was near, she felt like a helpless little kid. No, like a helpless, giddy teenager who couldn’t control her hormones.

At least if he kept up this overprotective act, she’d have a constant reminder of why she couldn’t throw herself into his arms. Nothing like being cast in the role of poor little deaf girl to quash the wayward libido.

Mike’s light touch on her arm caused her to jump. She glanced at him.

Drive to your apartment, he signed.

He wanted to stay at her apartment? A tremor started somewhere south of her stomach. He couldn’t be planning to watch over her twenty-four hours a day, could he? She shook her head and returned her focus to the road.