Murder in the Clear Zone Page 22

  She backed against the wall; her eyes flashed with anger, perhaps a little fear. “Let go, Cory!”

  Cory’s heart pounded. Her skin felt cool against his moist palms. “I want us to be close like we were before.”

  She struggled. “What? We were never close. Not like you mean.”

  “It was a long time ago, but you wanted me that night.”

  “It was one kiss,” she said. “I was young. You caught me off guard. I wished instantly I could take it back. I told you that!”

  “You think I believed you? I’ve never tasted that much passion on a woman’s lips before.”

  “It was a big mistake. One I’ve deeply regretted.”

  “You led me to believe we had a future.”

  “That’s a lie! I told you I’d never cheat on Dan. For better or worse, I stayed faithful and committed to him.”

  “Then why that hot, steamy kiss?”

  “You’d stuck by Dan and me through his recovery, his retraining. I was grateful.”

  “That was no gratitude kiss.”

  “I explained that to you. For one insane moment, I was overwhelmed, confused by your kindness and crushed by Dan’s infidelity.”

  Cory ignored the twinge of guilt. Paula had been young and vulnerable and he had taken advantage. “After Dan died, you still turned me down.”

  “You tried to pin his murder on me!”

  “You were a suspect. I had to go through the motions.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing, going through the motions? Hounding me like a criminal, making me look like a mass murderess?”

  Her steely voice only made him want her more. Her resistance was a challenge and extremely seductive.

  “You had a motive in every case,” he said. “But you could convince me of your innocence if—” He pressed her tighter against the wall and his face nuzzled under the collar of her robe until his mouth found soft, silky skin.

  Her knee came up. Pain paralyzed him. She shoved him back. He was amazed at her strength.

  “Get out, Cory!” She grabbed an umbrella from the weather caddie by the door and wielded it like a baseball bat.

  Cory heard something whooshing through the air.

  “Cory!” The parrot screeched as it dived at him. Its wings beat the air frantically.

  Cory swung in self-defense. Missing the bird, he shouted, “Call him off, Paula!”

  “Don’t you dare hurt him.”

  “Hurt him? That damned bird is dangerous!”

  Paula held out her arm. “Come, Iv.”

  Ivanhoe alighted on Paula’s shoulder, but he lifted his wings slightly and fanned out his red tail. The feathers on the nape of his neck stood up. His beak was open, one foot raised.

  Cory drew his gun. “Cage him or I’ll shoot him like a mad dog!”

  Paula pointed to the door. Her gaze was hard, steady. “Get out, Detective Morrison.”

  He bristled at her emphasis on his title, knowing the word was stressed to remind him that he was hired to serve and protect, not molest. He had to admire her guts.

  “I’ll be back, Paula. Soon.”

  He strode to his Mustang in wide steps. The authoritative thud of his boots on the concrete walkway almost reassured him. But not quite. The emasculating truth echoed through Cory. Paula Lord had won this skirmish.

  Other females had always been more than willing to play. Why not Paula? A lesser woman would have folded under his seduction and given in to him, but the years of being abused in foster homes and her bad marriage hadn’t knocked the fight out of her. If anything, the bad times had made her mentally as tough as any street thug he’d ever known.

  He thrust himself behind the steering wheel. Before the car stopped rocking from his propelled weight, he gunned the engine to life. Tires squealed against the concrete as he shot out of her circular driveway.

  Long ago what he’d mistakenly perceived as Paula’s vulnerability, awakened lust in him. Now it was her strength he admired. He almost wished he didn’t have to take her down.

  ****

  Les Cardel watched Cory speed away from Paula’s house. He looked as angry as a castrated bull. Les laughed. Paula had a talent for bringing out the beast in a man.

  Hadn’t she brought out the worst in Fred those many years ago? It had been in all the newspapers. Les’s stomach churned, remembering the humiliation of going to Paula, ready to give comfort. But that cop, Dan, had beaten him to it. Then she married the cheating bastard.

  After Dan was out of the way, Les had offered to take care of her, but the new widow, an orphan, a nobody, flatly turned him down. Claimed she didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She had all that money. Les’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and pain twisted his gut. It was as if his obsession for Paula had turned inward against him. One of them would be destroyed by it, and his instinct for survival guaranteed it wouldn’t be him!

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Even after the roar of Cory’s engine faded Paula remained leaning rigidly against the door, blocking it with her body, heart racing. The smell of burnt rubber filtered through an open window, defiling the room with the invisible fog of his fury. Damn Cory. He’d brought chaos to her peaceful home.

  Ivanhoe’s powerful claws gripped Paula’s shoulder, digging through her robe and into her flesh. Until that moment, she’d forgotten he was there. “Thanks for your help, Iv,” she said, glancing up at the parrot.

  His corn-yellow irises looked watery, and the pupils of his eyes oscillated from large to small. Instantly alert to his agitated mood, she spoke softly, “I’m sorry he upset you, Iv. He upset me, too.” She stroked her parrot gently, as much to calm herself as the bird. Ivanhoe’s grip on her shoulder eased.

  Paula drew back the sheer curtain over the narrow window beside her front door and peered out. The sidewalks and streets were empty, the quiet disturbed only by the leaves of her vibrant pink camellias stirring in the gentle breeze, their leaves brushing restlessly against the side of her brick porch.

  “It’s okay, Iv. He’s gone.” Paula twisted the key and thrust the dead bolt deep into the doorjamb.

  She went into the living room and sank to the couch, stroking Ivanhoe. She shuddered, her skin still crawling from Cory’s sweaty touch. She should’ve told him years ago, that even if she’d been single, she wouldn’t want a womanizer like him. Maybe things wouldn’t have escalated, and today wouldn’t have happened.

  Good grief, was she really blaming herself? He was the one who’d sexually harassed her! His attack was more than a cop power thing. She looked at her arm still reddened from the pressure of Cory’s fingers and shuddered. Damn him. He was like a crazed hawk, unpredictable, dangerous. Cory wanted more than to railroad her for those murders. He was obsessed, stalking her, wanting to possess her.

  Given the choice of accepting his advances or going to jail, she’d rather spend a lifetime behind bars than one night with him.

  Paula stroked Ivanhoe until his eyes began to droop. For him the crisis was over. For her it had only begun. She gently put Iv back into his cage and tried to decide what she could do. Surely Lomas had a legal method to keep Cory away. She dialed, and when she got the attorney’s answering machine, all she could do was leave her number.

  Paula picked up the restraining order from the floor where it had fallen during the struggle. Was Bard really behind this? He couldn’t think a piece of paper would keep her away.

  She sank down on the couch and stared at the order. What if she wasn’t seeing things clearly? Cory had added Bard to his list of suspects. Why? Did Cory know something she didn’t? Could her love for Bard be blinding her? Could everything she’d seen and heard be true?

  She’d been so sure about Bard. Certain it was safe to love him. Could she trust her own judgment? She’d been wrong before.

  No. She had to keep the faith; he had more than proven himself. Bard had given her longer than the law required before serving her notices then relocated her to a place she loved.
He fought the fire to save her birds, and saved her from the falling branch. After the vandalism, it was he who helped her clean up the clutter. During her move, the dear man had handled her belongings with such care. He arranged everything, even had the new aviaries built. If it wasn’t for Bard, she wouldn’t have learned about Charlie’s undercover job until much later.

  The family pictures in Bard’s living room, and the loving way he spoke of his family told Paula he didn’t have the background of a criminal. His frequent calls to Gary and the flowers he sent were sincere, not to impress or fool anyone.

  When she and Bard walked together or he held a door open for her, he touched her arm as if she were the most precious person in his life. Images of making love in the steamy shower while cascades of water rained down on them made her heart beat faster. He’d made sure of her pleasure before his own.

  She inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. She had doubted Bard in the beginning, but her heart and mind wouldn’t let her doubt him now.

  It still bothered her that he’d kept things from her, like his infiltration into the gang and the blasted restraining order. Why hadn’t he told her about the order? She’d just have to wait and hear his explanation. She didn’t have time to waste on injured feelings.

  Paula dialed Reed’s office. She tapped her finger on the hard surface of her walnut desk, listening to the hollow ringing.

  Reed’s secretary finally came on the line and said, “Mr. Reed tried to return your call, but your line stayed busy for several hours.”

  Paula frowned. Other than the quick call to Lomas, she hadn’t made or received any calls. Something was wrong. “This is really crucial, maybe even a matter or life or death.”

  “Oh, dear,” the secretary said. “I’ll try to reach Mr.Reed, but we may have to wait for him to call in for messages.”

  Paula couldn’t image in this day and age a man being so unreachable. But maybe hiding from calls was his way of handling stress. As Paula hung up, she wondered if she should forget Reed and call the police. But that might get Cory involved, and after what had just happened she didn’t want to take that risk.

  She stiffened as a car pulled into her driveway. Cory? She glanced out the window. It was Bard. She sighed in relief.

  He strode up the walk with tension in his quick steps. Sun glinted on his dark brown hair. His white shirt was open at the collar. Her heart throbbed at the sight of him. An instant later, relief and anger battled to win over the other as she yanked the door open. Then the dam broke, spewing her flood of impatience. “What’s with the restraining order, Bard?”

  His jaw tightened. “I tried to stop it. It was one of Gordon’s dumb ideas.”

  Afternoon rays splashed across Bard’s face, illuminating his eyes with light turquoise, the sun-washed color captured in the nucleus of a crashing wave. Odd, even though he was keeping things from her, she no longer viewed those green eyes as deceptive.

  An awareness changed his expression, as though he’d shifted mental gears. His gaze raked over her like flames over logs, taking in her state of undress, her robe with nothing underneath, her curly drying hair, now wispy about her face from her earlier struggle. His smoldering appraisal sent heat racing through her veins.

  After a long moment, Bard swallowed and cleared his throat. A grin spread across his face. “I see my timing’s perfect.” The expectancy in his look made her heart pound. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?” His deep voice hummed through her.

  She stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. He walked through the entryway and into the living room. Paula followed, almost bumping into him when he stopped abruptly and swung around to face her. She stepped out of his reach when he tried to take her in his arms. Her whole being ached with longing, but if he touched her she wouldn’t be able to fight off her desire. Until they cleared things up, she couldn’t handle intimacy.

  “The restraining order was bad enough,” she said, twisting an escaped curl from her tangle of upswept hair. “But to have Cory serve it was doubly humiliating.”

  “That was set up by the Police Department. Didn’t Cory tell you I tried to rescind the order?”

  Paula stared at Bard, confused. “You didn’t want him to serve me?” Hope rushed through her. She steeled herself against its seductive power.

  “Hell no! Why would I? You’re the woman I love!” Passion rang in his voice.

  She hugged herself, trying to hold back the flood of mixed emotions, love, the fear of caring too much, and feelings she couldn’t name. “What does love mean to you, Bard?”

  He wrinkled his brow, looking at her as if she’d just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “The same thing it means to you,” he said. “Sharing, honesty, commitment!”

  Paula felt like screaming. She hated the deceit hanging between them and hated the idea of confronting him with his deception. “Honesty? Sharing? About everything? Or just the things you want me to know?”

  His expression darkened. “What are you getting at?”

  She decided to stop fencing and go directly for the jugular. “I was there last night, Bard. I heard you dealing with those men.”

  “What?” His mouth tightened in a grim line, his eyes intense beneath drawn brows, searching her face in stunned awareness. He dropped to the couch with a jolt as if she’d shoved him backward.

  Paula plunked down at the far end and faced him. “I heard everything. You’re meeting Janus tonight at the Wootson house.”

  He raked his hair. “Damn. Did you tell Cory?”

  “I wouldn’t tell him anything!” Anger rose in the back of her throat, almost choking her. “But its a dangerous game you’re playing, Bard.”

  She watched him struggle with the emotions charging through him. He seemed to be weighing his words, then he exhaled heavily and said, “I know what I’m doing.” He moved closer and took her hands in his. “I’ll get Charlie’s killer. Trust me.”

  “You’re not closing me out, Bard. Not with what’s at stake. If you think I’m backing off, you don’t know me at all. I want to hear what you’ve done to protect yourself.”

  His grip on her hands tightened. “I’ve got backup.”

  “Like Charlie had backup? Who?”

  “Look, Paula, I can’t tell you any more.”

  “You haven’t told me any thing, yet. Now, what exactly is going on?”

  “The more you know the greater the danger to both of us.”

  “I don’t buy that. Knowledge is power. What if the gang didn’t buy your story?”

  “If they didn’t, I’d already be dead.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Convince me.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “If I tell you what’s going on, will you promise to let me handle it?”

  She held his gaze. “Let’s hear what you have to say before I make any promises.”

  He exhaled heavily. “I’ve taken Charlie’s place undercover.”

  She wanted to scream, are you crazy? But she remained silent. Now was the time to listen. She could explode later. It wasn’t easy to sit quietly while he explained his set up with Reed, but somehow she managed.

  “Reed and I have everything under control,” he finished. “I’m meeting with my backup team when I leave here.”

  “Let me get this straight. They’ll be outside, and you’ll be inside alone with killers. The Corps had a similar setup with Charlie, only something went wrong, and when he escaped to the dry river bed his backup wasn’t there to stop his murder.”

  “All the bases are covered. I’ll get the goods on those guys, then get the hell out. Soon as I’m clear, SWAT will rush in.”

  To calm herself, Paula briefly closed her eyes then lifted her chin. “You need me in there with you. I’m the only one who has as much at stake as you do. I want Charlie’s killer almost as much as I want you to be safe.”

  He shook his head and stroked her hair, his eyes full of love. “I know, honey. But I’ve done this kind of thing before in the milita
ry. I’m trained, you’re not.”

  “Wrong. Life’s trained me. I can read bad guys. I’ve dodged men like them all my life, learned when to stand up against them, when to back off. And I’m a crack shot with my trusty .38.”

  “You’d compromise the whole operation. There’s no way I could explain you.”

  She squared her shoulders. “I’ll stay out of sight. No one has to know I’m there.” As a protest formed on his lips, she played her ace. “I’m in, or I’ll show up on my own. Your call.”

  “You’re willing to get us both killed by showing up? What the hell does that prove?”

  “I can’t let what happened to Charlie happen to you. Those guys aren’t going to let you walk out of there. I mean it. Count me in, or I’ll deal myself in.”

  Bard’s eyes blazed. “Dammit, Paula. Pull that, and I’ll get Cory to lock you up until this is over.”

  “Maybe you should rethink that,” she said. Then she told him about Cory’s attack, and what he might do more of if she were trapped in a cell, unable to get away from him.

  Bard winced. Then, as though he’d experience some devastating internal explosion, a cloud of red crawled up from his neck and along his hardened jaw. “You’ll have to promise to stay in the attic. Listen and pick up what you can on a wire. That’s all.”

  “That’s all I want. To be there in case they find your wire so I can relate an SOS.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You win. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Paula braced herself on the dashboard of Bard’s Z as he skidded to a stop at the side of the deserted one lane road that sliced through one of the few thriving orange groves. The seat belt cutting into her chest as her body thrust forward was further proof of Bard’s anger. However, dealing with his temper fit was minor compared to her awareness that the sunny afternoon was slipping by toward zero hour. She felt like a bird trying to out-fly a sweeping forest fire, tense, high strung and not at all sure she was going in the right direction.

  Bard hopped out of the car, slammed the door behind him, and hurried toward the white van with the hood up. Paula followed and caught up with him. He grabbed her hand. Orange blossoms scented the hot breeze.