caught on his watch. He sat on his kitchen table with his legs dangling and his dress shirt unbuttoned down to his stomach. The only blemish on his bare skin came from the dark red stain spreading across the white material.
Slumped shoulders and face drawn tight with pain, Luke looked ready to drop. Claire half hoped he would. If he fell over she could run. Well, she could if she somehow managed to knock out Luke’s friend. Mr. Blond, Big and Ticked Off. Yeah, that guy looked ready to kill someone, namely her.
Both men had chests and shoulders broad enough to make football players jealous. Luke’s light brown hair with bangs that brushed his eyebrows gave a boyish quality to his handsomeness. But in the two years since they were together he had changed. He now possessed a lethal air, making him more like his tough friend than the charming man she once thought would be her future.
Neither man gave off the upper-crust snootiness she expected from guys who supposedly spent their days locating precious works of art. She doubted Luke could tell a Chagall from a cartoon. The comfortable gunplay made her think his work was something more along the lines of law enforcement, but he lacked the clean-cut government-man look she associated with FBI agents. Now that she had experienced the great misfortune of being questioned by a few, she recognized the beast.
One thing was for sure. Luke, the man she followed from a distance and tracked to the office building—the same one who ran her down in the alley and kept a gun in his waistband—did not spend much time behind a desk. She’d bet her life on that. In fact, that’s exactly what she was doing.
She needed Luke’s help and cooperation, wanted to get him interested in her case and set him loose to find the truth. She just had the tiny problem of earning his trust first. With their history that was going to take some time, and probably some begging, which was not her strongest skill.
Luke focused on his friend. “You can get me the whiskey. The rest of the supplies are in the bathroom.”
“You’re thirsty?” she asked. “Now?”
Luke ignored her and kept talking to his friend or partner or whatever the other man was. “Then you’ve got to get back to the scene and help clean up the mess with the police.”
The guy shot Claire a blank stare. “I’m not leaving you alone with her.”
“My name is Claire.”
The man made a face as if he’d tasted something sour. “I know who you are.”
“Adam, meet Claire, and vice versa.” Luke peeled off his shirt, gasping when the blood-soaked material caught on his skin. “The supplies? And now would be good.”
Adam nodded, then headed down the hall.
The second they were alone Luke pinned her with the same green-eyed gaze that used to make her forget what she was saying.
“If you even try to move out of this room, I’ll stop you,” he said.
“You only have one good arm.”
“I can do a lot with that.”
Which was exactly why she hadn’t yet made a run for the door. “I’m not leaving.”
“That’s not my experience,” he muttered under his breath.
Adam stalked back into the room and dumped a small box on the table, along with gauze, some medicine, a knife and a bottle. “What are we looking at in terms of injuries here?”
Luke tried to lift his arm but groaned, instead. “It’s a through and through. Not serious. Just bloody and stings like a son of a bitch.”
She eyed the whiskey. “Which is cause for a celebratory drink?”
Both men stared at her but only Luke answered. “I’m going to use it to clean the wound.”
She noticed his husky voice had cleared and his swaying had stopped. Still … “Shouldn’t you be at a hospital? I mean, how bad is this?”
Luke picked up a bandage packet and put the edge between his teeth and ripped it open. “It’s a gunshot, so it doesn’t feel good. But unfortunately for you, I’m not going to die.”
She forgot how dizzying his stubbornness could be. “You are if you don’t stop with the attitude.”
He peeked up at her through his mop of hair. “I’d like to remind you how I got shot.”
That was an easy one. He refused to stick with the mental plan she had worked out for him. He might hate her, but his rescue tendencies hadn’t dulled.
“Have we figured out who it was you two killed?” Adam asked.
Luke nodded in her direction. “Ask her.”
They both stared at her, but she ignored it. Her mind wandered back to that alley. The acrid mix of blood and sweat filled her nose. For a second there Claire had forgotten this death was on her. She actually had killed a man this time. It was in self-defense and in an effort to save Luke, but someone was still dead.
She swallowed hard to keep from gagging on the bile that rushed up the back of her throat. “He was following me. I don’t know who he was.”
“Your partner?” Luke crumpled the empty packet in his fist. “I’m betting you weren’t really the victim out there today.”
If she thought for one minute Luke intended to save her when she walked into that alley … yeah, not the case. He hunted her down for one reason only—to turn her over to the police. She could see it in the intensity of his eyes.
He had been in that building for a job of some sort. Hung out on every floor until the security cameras finally flared to life. She showed up hoping to get his attention, but she’d miscalculated. She expected he would catch a glimpse and get the bug to start digging into her story. She hadn’t been prepared for a multifloor rundown that ended with a shoot-out.
The entire situation made her want to scream. Phil did this. He set her up, pretended to be dead and now had someone on her tail. Marrying him had been the worst decision of her life.
Adam spilled the alcohol on Luke’s wound, earning an impressive string of yelled profanity in return.
Men. “You’re going to kill him. Here, let me.” She pushed Adam out of the way. Kind of felt good to surprise the guy with a shove.
Then she stepped between Luke’s open legs, resting her thigh against his. The reality of being separated by only two thin pieces of material made her freeze in place. An accidental brush against him shouldn’t mean anything. Certainly shouldn’t send her stomach into flip-flop mode.
“What are you doing?” Luke asked.
“Helping.” She sucked in a few deep breaths as she struggled for control. Even after all this time he had the power to shatter her into a thousand useless pieces.
Instead of dwelling on her weakness to a man so determined to forget her, she went to work. Grabbing the gauze out of his hand, she rubbed the swab over the jagged wound with infinite care. When his lips stayed pinched, she knew the whirling in her stomach only went one way.
Adam
