Dark of the Night Read online

  It didn’t matter. He knew his limitations and that was something. He turned his back on the cathedral and its spires, ignoring his misgivings. He had a job to do. He looked out the car window, eyes scanning the street, careful to keep low in the seat.

  No sense in leaving someone with a memory.

  He cast another sideways glance at the church across the street, a giant monolith, a testament to man’s ego or God’s demands. The part of him he hadn’t sold to the devil yearned to believe. But it was too late. Too late for anything but the apartment on the sixth floor.

  And the man inside it.

  Jake Mahoney—and the bimbo with legs to here. He clenched, wishing he was the one in the warm apartment, fucking the blonde’s brains out. He’d seen her. Wanted her. But before he could get near enough to confirm that she was as winsome up close as she was from a distance, his mark had arrived.

  Damn it to hell.

  He replayed the scene in his head. Seeing her indecision, and then her fear. She’d thought he was a threat. In his mind’s eye, the lightning flashed and just for an instant her features were illuminated.

  His blood ran cold, snapping him back to the present.

  His boss was going to shit a brick.

  The bimbo with Mahoney was the fucking senator’s daughter.

  Chapter 11

  JAKE STOOD AT the bedroom window, staring out into the Atlanta night. The storm had passed, the morning star shining through what remained of the clouds. The streets shone diamond bright in the lamplight, sluggish morning commuters beginning to head to offices across the city.

  He turned around, leaning against the windowsill, his gaze resting on the sleeping woman in his bed. As usual, he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Not that the metaphor was exactly apropos.

  The fact was, he’d been wrong about Riley O’Brien. She wasn’t made of ice. She was all fire—and something more. A sweetness, almost a shyness, that she buried deep under the hard shell of the candidate’s daughter.

  And quite frankly, she scared him to death. There was a vulnerability there. A trust that he wasn’t certain he could live up to. She made him act crazy. Made him forget all about his resolutions concerning women.

  And he wasn’t a man who liked being out of control.

  The cynic in him said it was all about hormones. Testosterone and pheromones. And the last time he’d trusted those he’d ended up with Lacey. Now there was a smart move. Not that it was fair to compare Riley with his ex-wife. Underneath Lacey’s beautiful facade there was nothing. No warmth, no light—nothing. Just a woman who loved no one but herself. A woman who meant to climb to the top, no worries about who she destroyed along the way.

  And he should know, he’d almost been a casualty.

  But Riley was different. There was a substance to her, a depth that transcended her outer appeal. At least he thought that was the case. But what the hell did he know? Still, he couldn’t dismiss the sex. It had been incredible. Frankly, he’d never experienced anything quite like it.

  His body responded immediately to the memory of her, hot and willing in his arms. He wanted more. Hell, he wanted Riley. But then once upon a time he’d wanted Lacey too, and look where that had gotten him.

  Still, there was a difference. Damned if he could say what it was. But something about sex with Riley transcended the normal. He had the feeling that he’d held something special in his arms. Something that didn’t come along more than once in a lifetime.

  Unfortunately, it was probably the wrong lifetime.

  He wasn’t ready for another commitment. And even if he was, there was simply no way—not between his career and her life. The President’s daughter and the journalist. It sounded like the title of a bad B movie. One he’d be best off avoiding at all costs.

  But he had the distinct feeling it was a little too late for those sentiments.

  Riley sighed in her sleep and rolled onto her back, her golden hair splayed out on the pillow, one hand, palm up, on the sheet. She was beautiful even in sleep—and trusting. Despite her take no prisoners attitude, down deep she was soft.

  He turned back to the window, thinking about the events of the past few days. He had nothing but questions. Primarily concerning Hank Larsen and what the hell he’d found that had gotten him murdered. Hopefully he’d have more answers tomorrow, after he’d had the chance to go over the man’s case files. Something that tied in to Michaels.

  Michaels. Another big question. What had made the man commit suicide? There were a million possibilities. And without a note, there seemed no way to know for certain. What he had been able to get out of Michaels’s coworkers seemed to imply everything was all right on the job. And although Jake hadn’t interviewed the wife, he’d managed to see the statement she gave the police.

  She’d claimed her husband was happy. And healthy. Which meant that whatever had happened had come on suddenly. Jake leaned his head against the glass. Surely his phone call hadn’t been enough to send the man over the edge? He tried to remember his exact words. He’d implied that he knew more than he did. Had Larsen found something damaging enough to throw the chief of police into complete panic at the thought of the information going public?

  But with Hank dead, where was the threat? Which left him right back at the beginning. What the hell had Larsen found?

  He blew out a breath, watching the cars below him. Mankind in a perpetual hurry. Going nowhere fast. Behind him Riley moaned, the sound low and frightened. He spun around in time to see her thrashing in the bed, hands extended, caught in a dream, her face tight with fear.

  “Caroline?” Her cry was plaintive. The voice of a child. “Daddy?”

  He crossed the room, surprised at the depth of his concern.

  “No.”

  The single word sent a chill racing through him. This was no dream. It was a nightmare. He shook her gently, calling her name, but she fought against him, her whimpers of fear edging on hysteria.

  Without thinking, he slid into bed, locking his arms around her, pulling her taut body against his. “It’s all right, sweetheart, I’m here. You’re safe.”

  She stopped moving, her body relaxing, but her soft whimpering still filled the room. Anger rose inside him, filling him with an overwhelming need to find the source of her pain and exterminate it once and for all.

  “I won’t let anything hurt you, Riley. I promise.”

  His soft words seemed to comfort her, and with a sigh, she sagged against him, still caught in sleep. He brushed back her hair and kissed her cheek, the feel of her tears against his skin threatening to break his heart.

  Riley opened her eyes, surprised to see dappled sunlight on the ceiling. She remembered closing her shutters last night. To keep out the storm. She frowned as other details began to filter through her sleep-laden brain. The color of the walls was wrong.

  Memories of the night came flooding back.

  The elevator.

  The storm.

  Jake.

  Oh God. She turned her head, memory becoming reality. He was there. Next to her, in full-blown naked glory. She sucked in a breath, her body doing more than remembering. Sleep had softened the hard edges, leaving the beauty of the man. His hair curled across his forehead, the stubble of his beard shadowing his face. Dark against light, the contrast reflecting the man.

  He sighed and shifted, one arm closing possessively around her. It felt right. And horribly wrong. She’d acted on emotion last night. Following passion instead of common sense. But now the storm had passed, and although she regretted nothing, it was time to face reality.

  It was like that movie with Audrey Hepburn—the one about a princess who escaped for a day. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the title.

  Roman Holiday.

  Audrey Hepburn had been overwhelmed with the weight of her responsibilities. She’d run away. Right into the arms of Gregory Peck. And she’d fallen in love with him.

  Riley frowned, trying to remember more, then wished she hadn�
��t. Gregory Peck’s character had been a journalist too. And in the end Audrey Hepburn had left him, choosing duty over happiness.

  Riley supposed it was meant to seem noble, but it was more than that. She of all people knew that it was far more than that. It was tragic. A woman condemned to loneliness, all in the cause of honor and duty.

  She carefully dislodged Jake’s arm, thankful when he didn’t awaken. It would be easier that way.

  She wasn’t a princess. But she knew all about duty. Her place wasn’t here. No matter how wonderful her time with Jake had been. She belonged at Rivercrest with her father. She slid from between the sheets, gathering up her clothing, her eyes never leaving the sleeping man.

  She was taking the coward’s way out. She knew that. Running away from something that had the potential to change her life. But things were never easy. And she, of all people, knew there was no such thing as happily ever after.

  Everyone had their place in life. And she was well aware of hers.

  Her father was going to be President of the United States. There wasn’t room in her life for anything else. She had a duty to fulfill.

  She’d had her interlude. And she’d cherish it always. But now it was time to go back where she belonged.

  No matter how much it hurt.

  Haywood stood at the door to the infirmary, trying to screw up the courage to go inside. He’d had to pull the few meager strings he had to wangle the chance to see Bryce. And now that he was here, he didn’t know what he wanted to say.

  He’d never been a man’s man, tending to be a bookish type. Not that he was exactly a ladies’ man either. He was more of a loner. The kind of man nobody particularly wanted to curry favor with. Except for the fact that he was part of one of the richest families in Atlanta. Correction—had been part.

  Now he was totally alone.

  And that’s what made Bryce’s friendship so special. The man didn’t give a damn who Haywood had been on the outside. He was a friend because he saw something decent inside of him. Something Haywood sure couldn’t see in himself. But in the moment when he’d seen Bryce being stabbed, he’d known without a doubt that he’d be willing to die for the man.

  And that was an amazing revelation. Something he was certain he’d never felt about anyone before. Never. Not even . . .

  He shook his head, unwilling to go there. She was dead, and for all practical purposes so was he. Dead. Inside and out. And reliving that night wasn’t going to bring anything back. He was an empty shell. And nothing mattered.

  He shook his head, pulling himself out of the past. Something did matter—his friend. And right now he needed to make certain Bryce was going to be all right.

  The infirmary, such that it was, wouldn’t be winning any good housekeeping awards. There were six beds lined up on each side of the long room, neatly bisecting it in half. No privacy screens here. No amenities either. Except that the sheets were clean and the mattresses fresh.

  He walked down the center aisle, grateful the ward was almost empty. There was already talk on the cell blocks. He’d interfered in prison business. Called the guards, no less. It marked him. For some a hero—for others the enemy. Probably more the latter than the former. It should have scared the crap out of him, but instead he felt liberated. He’d taken a stance.

  It felt good.

  Bryce was in the last bed, his bandages white against the smooth mahogany of his skin. He lifted a hand in greeting, his smile false against his pain.

  “You going to be okay?” Haywood tried for cheerful but missed by a mile.

  “They tell me I’ll live. Took a few stitches, but they patched me up real good.” Bryce shifted against his pillows, propping himself up a little higher. “It’s good to see you.” This time his smile was genuine.

  And Haywood felt a burden he hadn’t known he was carrying shift and then dissipate. “Glad to see you too. I was afraid for a while that—” He broke off, feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

  “Nothing to be afraid of. Takes a little more than a piece of honed Plexiglas to bring me down. Have a seat.” He motioned to the battered chair next to the bed.

  “Doc says you’ll be out of here in a few days.” Haywood sat on the edge of the seat, his gaze still locked on the bandages.

  “Yeah. They’re holding on to me a little longer. Some crazy idea of protecting me.”

  Haywood suppressed a shiver. “You think the guys who did this would try again?”

  Bryce shrugged, wincing with the motion. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Then it’s just as well they’re keeping you here.”

  “No place is safe, Haywood, when someone wants you dead.”

  “You make it sound more serious than just a prison beef.”

  Bryce shrugged, the gesture making him wince. “I don’t know. There’re people who might want to see me dead. But I wouldn’t have thought I was much of a threat anymore.”

  Haywood frowned. “You’re talking about the people who framed you?” They’d never really talked about his incarceration, other than the fact that Bryce maintained his innocence.

  “Yeah,” he sighed.

  “Want to tell me what it was about?”

  Bryce leaned back against his pillows. “It was a long time ago. Ancient history. No sense dredging it up now.”

  Haywood leaned forward, patting his friend’s hand awkwardly. “We all live with our past, Bryce. It never goes away altogether.”

  “You talking about you or me?”

  Haywood suppressed a bitter smile. “Me, I guess. You never actually murdered anyone. I did. I suppose there’s folks who’d like to see me dead too.”

  “Maybe. But they’re playing on the right side of the law.”

  Haywood shivered despite the warmth of the room. “Here’s hoping they stay that way.”

  “Things gonna happen the way they’re gonna happen. Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

  Haywood pulled out of his self-pity. “You really believe that?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Once, a long time ago, I had it all. And then, just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “it was gone. Had nothing to do with me. But I paid for it just the same. In an instant everything changed forever.” He ran a hand along the edge of his bandage. “After that nothing else mattered.”

  Haywood’s eyes dropped to the bloodstained gauze, then lifted to meet his friend’s gaze. “Surely some things matter.”

  “I suppose so.” His response was lackluster. “But I’m not making any wagers on it.”

  The guard at the door tilted his head, indicating it was time to go.

  “Listen, Haywood . . .” Bryce grimaced as he struggled to move closer. Haywood met him halfway. “You shouldn’t have helped me. The guys who did this to me will be watching you now. Whoever is pulling their strings will know what you did.” He paused, pulling in a ragged breath. “And there’s a possibility they’ll come gunning.”

  Haywood nodded. The thought had already occurred to him. “If I had it to do over, I’d do exactly the same.”

  “I know that.” He reached over, grasping Haywood’s hand in his. “And for that I’ll be forever grateful. But I’m not up to watching your back right now. So be careful. Sleep with one eye open if you have to.”

  Haywood squeezed his hand and released it, embarrassed at the emotions welling inside him. He hadn’t felt anything in such a long time.

  It was overwhelming, but it felt good. It felt damn good.

  Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe he was alive after all.

  Which was ironic when he considered the fact that, thanks to the altercation in the yard, he was probably marked for death.

  Jake smiled, stretching beneath the sheets. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good waking up in the morning. But then, it had been an amazing night. He rolled over, reaching for Riley, surprised when his hands met only the cool cotton of her pillow.

  Frowning, he sat up, searching the room. She wasn’t there. And neithe
r were her clothes. A flash of panic ripped through him, as he flung the covers aside and ran to the bathroom.

  Empty.

  She wasn’t in the kitchen either, or the living room. She was gone. Vanished as if she’d never been there at all. He sank onto the sofa, his stomach churning. She’d run away. He shouldn’t have been surprised. By all odds, they should never have come together in the first place.

  But they had.

  His heart sank. Maybe she was like Lacey after all. Memories of last night flooded through him, refuting the thought before it was even completed. She wasn’t Lacey. But the fact still remained that she’d left without so much as a word. Anger surged through him.

  He might not be ready for a full-blown relationship, but he sure as hell deserved more than a drive-by. Maybe she was used to one-night stands, but he wasn’t. When he slept with a woman, it meant something, damn it.

  And if he had his way, this wasn’t going to end here and now. One way or another they were going to have a repeat performance. Ms. O’Brien had another think coming if she thought he’d give up this easily. He was a fighter to the core. And when he found something he really wanted, he went after it full steam ahead.

  He blew out a breath, amazed at the turn of his thoughts. He stood up, needing to do something—anything. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of white near the door.

  An envelope. Hope speared through him. She hadn’t run away. She’d left a note. He picked it up, ripping it open.

  His joy dissolved into disappointment. It wasn’t from Riley. He sank down on the sofa, trying to reel in his thoughts. Opening the thin sheets of paper, he glanced down halfheartedly, then jerked back for a second look as his brain registered the significance.

  He was holding a twenty-year-old autopsy report— for Caroline O’Brien.

  Chapter 12

  RILEY OPENED THE back door, hoping against hope that the kitchen would be empty.

  It wasn’t.

  “Morning,” Adelaide called cheerfully. “Sleep well?” She turned to face Riley, her grin indicating she already had a pretty good idea of the answer.