Its good to see you, Chili, he said.
Yeah, right, I thought. Lie number one. Cant say I feel the same way, I said.
He ignored my dig. Im glad they found you. I was worried when I heard you were out trying to find some poor sucker who took a wrong turn.
Lie number two. Jack OBrien never worried about anything other than himself. Youre not welcome here, OBrien. Do us both a favor and leave.
Id hoped to see a flicker of hurt in those beautiful eyes, but none appeared. He stared back at me with the gaze that used to make my body hum with an all-consuming need.
I simply came by to check up on Charlie.
So you checked. Time to leave.
He raised a single dark eyebrow, but didnt move. You look good. Mountain air seems to agree with you, he said, as if we exchanged such pleasantries every day. Things going okay for you?
Just fine. Thanks ever so much for asking.
He waited, the stillness of his body putting me even more on edge. I didnt bother asking him how hed been. There wasnt any need. No one asked about the condition of perfection.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
This July, Intrigue brings you six sizzling summer reads. Theyre the perfect beach accessory.
* We have three fantastic miniseries for you. Film at Eleven continues THE LANDRY BROTHERS by Kelsey Roberts. Gayle Wilson is back with the PHOENIX BROTHERHOOD in Take No Prisoners. And B.J. Daniels finishes up her MCCALLS MONTANA series with Shotgun Surrender.
* Susan Peterson brings you Hard Evidence, the final installment in our LIPSTICK LTD. promotion featuring stealthy sleuths. And, of course, we have a spine-tingling ECLIPSE title. This months is Patricia Rosemoors Ghost Horse.
* Dont miss Dana Martons sexy stand-alone title, The Sheiks Safety. When an American soldier is caught behind enemy lines, shell fake amnesia to guard her safety, but theres no stopping the sheik determined on winning her heart.
Enjoy our stellar lineup this month and every month!
Sincerely,
Denise OSullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
Hard Evidence
Susan Peterson
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MILLS & BOON
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For my brother, Sam, who has lived through adversity and pain and come through it with his honor and integrity intact.
May you find the peace, love and understanding you seek in this rough journey through life.
A special thanks to Christine Wenger for all her help with the ins and outs of Syracuse, New York. Any mistakes are purely the fault of the authors.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A devoted Star Trek fan, Susan Peterson wrote her first science fiction novel at the age of thirteen. But as a hopeless romantic, Susan had to figure out a way to combine falling in love with a lifetime pursuit of total logic. After pursuing careers in intensive-care nursing and school psychology, Susan finally found the time to pursue a career in writing. An ardent fan of psychological thrillers and suspense, Susan combined her love of romance and suspense into several manuscripts targeted to the Harlequin Intrigue line. Getting the go-ahead to write for this line was a dream come true for her.
Susan lives in a small town in northern New York with her son, Kevin, her nutball dog, Ozzie, Phoenix the cat and Lex the six-toed menace (a new kitten). Susan loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at SusanPetersonHI@aol.com or visit her Web site at www.susanpeterson.net.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Jack OBrienAn ex-cop turned paramedic, Jack harbors serious guilt about his testimony against his foster father on charges of bribery.
Killian Chili Pepper CrayShocked when her former flame Jack OBrien testified against their beloved foster father, Killian left Syracuse and vowed never to return.
Charlie OrzinskiBeloved foster dad to troubled teens for much of his life, he is now in a deep coma following a suspicious hit-and-run accident.
Handler OrtegaLocal crime boss wholl do whatever it takes to get back vital information stolen from him regarding his criminal dealings.
Jeannette RenaultFormer lover of Handler Ortega, and now married to a wealthy cardiac surgeon. Does this seemingly innocent suburbanite know more than shes willing to tell?
Craig GibsonCharlies lawyer, a man found murdered in Charlies apartment.
Caroline PrattGibsons law partner and known to represent Handler Ortega in a variety of shady legal matters.
Sweetie PieCharlies nasty, mangy Maine Coon cat. Now Killians responsibility.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
If there was one thing I never expected to have to do in this lifetime, it was to stand over Charlie Orzinski and worry about whether he was going to live or die. Mainly because Ive always believed Charlie was indestructible, the ultimate Man of Steel.
But the fact that he was in the I.C.U. of Crouse Hospital in Syracuse, N.Y., unconscious and hooked up to every machine known to modern man, showed me just how wrong I was. The trauma docs had given him less than a sixty-percent chance of survival.
Personally, I was betting Charlie had an ace or two up his sleeve, but something about the gray pallor of his craggy face told me death was a real possibility. And that was a possibility I wasnt prepared for. One Id never be prepared for.
I reached down and slid my hand into his. His stillness frightened me more than the machines clustered around the bed. They seemed to diminish him, making his massive body, with its bull neck and linebacker shoulders, look small and insignificant beneath the stark white of the hospital sheets.
According to the nurses, he hadnt moved in three days. Not for the day it took the hospital staff and police to identify him and not the following two days it took them to contact the only people alive who truly loved him, a ragtag pack of former foster kids Charlie and his wife Claire had raised over the years.
I was the last of the kids to get word, mainly because they had to send someone into the backwoods of the Adirondack Mountains to reach me. As a deputy sheriff from Essex County, N.Y., Id been out traipsing through the wilds of the Adirondacks, trying to locate some NYC hump who had escaped from Ray Brook Minimum Security Prison.
Most of us had figured the idiot had counted on heading back to the city and his woman, but somewhere along the line, hed taken a wrong turn. A dangerous wrong turn. Hed ended up stumbling deeper and deeper into the remotest mountainous areas of the Upper Adirondacks.
Winter had hit the north country early and I had figured wed find the poor SOB frozen to some tree, solid as a Good Humor Popsicle. He probably wouldnt be worrying about how much time he had to serve back at the Ray Brook Country Club.
Shortly after the park ranger found me and informed me of my foster dads condition, I stumbled out of the woods, jumped into my tiny electric-blue Neon and headed for Syracuse, fighting a healthy dose of fear and guilt deep in the pit of my belly.
Guilt because Id told Charlie Id never return to the city, that I had written it out of my heart the day hed been sentenced to eight years at Ray Brook Federal Prison in Ray Brook, New York, for selling information and taking bribes.
To my way of thinking, the city and the Syracuse Police Department had ruined his life, broken his heart and killed his beloved Claire. But Charlie, the only dad Id ever really known, had always told me, Never say never because that word will come back to bite you on the ass. As usual, Charlie was right.
I laced my fingers through his and pressed my palm to his. I could feel the coolness of his skin beneath my own. I desperately wanted him to open his eyes, smile up at me and ask, Where the hell ya been, Chili?
But Charlie didnt move, and the heart monitor and other assorted machinery littering the Intensive Care cubicle continued to beep and click with maddening, mind-numbing regularity.
I moved closer to the bed and leaned down to whisper in his ear. Come on, Pop, dont play possum. Wake up.
The respirator chugged on and the heart monitor beat out a steady pattern of life, but his eyelids didnt flicker.
Could you tell me if theres been any change in Mr. Orzinskis condition? a voice asked out at the nurses desk.
I stiffened. It was a familiar voice. So familiar that it shot a charge of something sharp and unpleasant up the center of my spine, spreading out along the length of my shoulders and heating the back of my neck with black pepper anger.
I knew that voice almost better than Charlies. But the difference was, this was one voice I had no desire to hear. Not now, not ever!
Still hanging on to Charlies hand, I turned and peeked around the curtain. Jack OBrien stood in front of the nurses station, his upper body leaning casually on the counter top as he schmoozed the ward clerk sitting behind the desk.
One elbow was propped under his chin, and his powerful shoulders were hunched beneath a battered leather jacket, a jacket Id bought him the first Christmas wed dated.
I knew without seeing his face that his dark blue eyes, shaded by the longest, thickest eyelashes a man had the audacity to own, would be sending interesting chills down the pretty clerks arms.
Sure enough, a flush of pink infused her cheeks and she smiled up at him with more wattage than was usually seen in a depressing place like the I.C.U. The Jack OBrien I remembered liked using his charm to make women flutter. Obviously, he hadnt changed much in the nine years since Id last seen him. And for more than one reason, that fact irritated the hell out of me.
To say that I harbored a deep-seated desire to return to the city and find Jack fat, or at least with a substantial beer gut, was an understatement. Unfortunately, he had developed neither.
His black hair, thick and longish with a familiar poetic curl to the ends, hugged the back of his neck and caressed the collar of his battered leather jacket, eliciting unwanted memories of my fingers shifting through those vibrant strands. Impatient, I pushed the thought aside.
Jack had always sported a dark, brooding look when it met his needs. It was his trademark. But even he knew his real charm was his charisma. It drew women and men to him like bees to honeywomen to his dark beauty and men to his easy nature and laid-back attitude.
When he had been younger and gotten into mischief, which, according to Claire, had been way too often, shed tell him that he had the looks and temperament of one of Gods dark angelsthe ones who had fallen from grace. But no matter what he did, Jackie knew how to charm his way out of any kind of trouble. Even trouble with Claire.
She had been a pretty religious woman, but according to Charlie, Jack would just laugh and buzz Claires cheek with those magnificent lips of his, pick her up and swing her around, and before hed set her down, she would be all flustered and red. Shed swat at him and forgive him within seconds. Like everyone else in his life, shed been unable to stay mad at him.
No one could stay mad at Jack. No one except me, that is.
As far as I could tell, the only clue that he was closing in on thirty-five were a few gray hairs mixed in with the dark strands along the sides of his head. The fact that they only made him look sexier set my teeth on edge. If there was one thing OBrien didnt need, it was something that made him look sexier.
He leaned forward, his muscular legs, long and lean, spread slightly apart, showcasing a tight ass in worn jeans. Angry, I pulled my gaze up above his waist. No way did I want him turning around and finding my eyes glued to his ass. The Jack I knew would take too much delight in that particular scenario.
We had a history together, Jack and me. A very intimate history. But the last thing I wanted was for him to think I regretted walking out on him nine years ago when he testified against Charlie. It was his testimony that had put the final nail in Charlies career coffin, information that guaranteed that he was stripped of his badge, gun and thirty years of retirement benefits with the police department.
The clerk behind the desk said something and nodded her head in my direction. I could see Jack shift his powerful body, and I ducked behind the curtain, breathing deep in an attempt to keep from passing out. Please let him have the decency to leave when he realizes Im in the room.
I held my breath and waited.
A few moments passed and then, Hello, Chili.
The voice was deep and gravel-rough around the edges. It was a sound so familiar that my traitorous nerve endings flared with a deep buried swoon of delight. I squashed the feeling with a viciousness that would have surprised even Attila the Hun.
The names Killian. Use it.
Chili Pepper had been my street name. We wont get into why; its too embarrassing. But the nickname had stuck even after I went to live with Charlie and Claire.
Charlie had used the nickname affectionately, a clever, nurturing mans attempt to make the scrappy, defiant teen who had invaded his household with swagger, a vulgar mouth and piping hot anger, relax and realize her identity wasnt about to suddenly disappear simply because shed ended up in the foster-care system. No one but Charlie had the right to call me by that name. Okay, maybe Jack used to have that right, but not anymore.
My fingers tightened on Charlies hand. Wake up, Pop. Please wake up and rescue me before I make a fool of myself. But Charlie slept on, oblivious to the fact that I needed him more than ever.