Deadly Lover (4 page)

“Timothy,” he said. “Timothy Perry from New Duval Drive.”

The mention of the street she’d lived on in what she thought of as the golden age of her childhood—before her father died—readjusted her expectations and the memories clicked into place.

“Timmy, from the end of the block?”

“Now you remember.” He squeezed her hand gently, beaming like a man watching his kid take her first steps.

A shiver of relief fired along her nerves before her heart rate settled back to normal.

She nodded and, still fighting the urge to shy away from his touch, watched as he relaxed his hand on her wrist but didn’t let her go.

“I saw your name come up on the rotation log and knew I had to stop in to see you. Little Lily all grown up and still getting into scrapes.”

Lily forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. He must have been about Sean’s age back then, just a few years older than her. Regardless, he was right. She’d always been in a scrape back then. Her father had praised her fearlessness and her mother had scolded him for encouraging her. “I never learned to accept when people told me I couldn’t or shouldn’t do something,” she said. “I always have to find out for myself.”

“Did you just move back into town? I see your cousins getting mended in the ER on a regular basis, but this is the first you’ve been in.”

“I’ve been back about six months.”

“Six months without an ER trip, you must be good at what you do.”

He probably thought she was a cop like her O’Leary cousins. Like her father. She shrugged and let it stand. “And you’re in medicine now?”

“Tissue regeneration,” he said. His hand slipped up her arm and he fingered the white scars that wrapped around her bicep, barely visible at the edge of the hospital gown’s sleeve. “I could get rid of these for you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve had more than my share of regeneration therapy.” She made an effort to sound light, like it was a joke.

“Side effects from regeneration therapy are rare these days.”

Lily dipped her chin in agreement. “But the odds increase with exposure.”

“True,” he said. He kept his smile in place, but his lips tightened.

She really had been exposed to the therapy more than was recommended. When Kiq had ripped her up she’d suffered massive tissue damage, much of it internal. The company doctors hadn’t risked using the therapy on external damage and scars when she had organ and muscle tissue to regenerate. They’d even let her bones heal naturally.

A flicker of movement caught her eye and drew her attention to the figure hovering in the doorway. Bradley... for all the world as if he’d never turned his back on her, betrayed her in the worst possible way.

He was as beautiful as ever. Full sensual lips, dark coffee complexion, and mink brown hair that hugged his skull. Mischievous gray eyes set off the striking features and called attention to his mixed heritage. People thought being an Ambassador’s son had given him legs in DC despite several missteps, but Lily knew it was his easy charm that made him perfect for his position as a Liaison in the Ormney Affairs Office.

His charm would carry him past any small misdeed. It had always been that way. In school, he’d charmed the teachers into letting him retake tests or overlook his tardiness. He’d charmed her mother into overlooking her curfew. He’d charmed Lily out of her pretty pink dress after the graduation dance. He might have eventually been able to charm her into forgiving him for their break-up, but no amount of charm could make her forgive him for marrying her sister.

Bradley wrapped a hand around the doorframe and lifted his voice. “Am I interrupting something?”

Timothy’s grip loosened and his hand trailed down her arm as if he would pull away. She caught it and pressed it in place on her forearm. Moments earlier she would have been glad for him to go, but she didn’t want to be left alone with Bradley. Timothy seemed to get the hint and stayed put, ignoring the dictates of courtesy that would implore him to stand and face the newcomer.

“Yeah, you are,” she answered. “I’m catching up with a friend.”

Bradley ignored the obvious hostility in her voice and stepped into the room. “Oh?”

She’d hoped he’d take the hint and leave. Resigned, Lily made the introductions.

“Bradley Rubiero, Timothy Perry.”

Bradley moved around the bed and put out his hand, forcing Timothy to let go of Lily’s arm. Timothy didn’t budge from his seat on the edge of the bed, though. Ignoring the room’s single chair, Bradley edged back to the wall and leaned against it, keeping the high ground. It was a private room, but small, leaving them all too close for comfort.

Bradley folded his arms across his chest and eyed Timothy with an edge of resentment. “So you’ve known Lily long?”

His proprietary air annoyed her, but Timothy seemed unaffected so she relaxed back into the pillows and watched Timothy’s face, doing her best to ignore Bradley.

Timothy’s eyes were cool and assessing as he spoke. “Yes. A very long time. We practically lived in each other’s pockets.” Lily registered the exaggeration. He’d recaptured Lily’s hand as he spoke. She didn’t see Bradley’s reaction to the suggestive answer, but she watched satisfaction flash across Timothy’s features at whatever that reaction had been.

Lily decided she’d had enough and pulled away.

“Timothy and I lived in the same neighborhood before Mom moved us to DC.”

“I see. So you were friends as kids.” Bradley sounded smug and satisfied, which made no sense to Lily.

“Bradley is married to my sister Rose. You remember her, right, Timmy?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid I teased you both about being the flower twins. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course.” She pasted on a smile because for once the past didn’t matter. His teasing hadn’t hurt her or if it had she couldn’t remember.

Bradley pushed away from the wall. “Their mother gave them feminine names to discourage them from following in their father’s footsteps.”

“I know,” said Timothy, turning back to Lily. “All the Rowans and O’Learys have been in law enforcement for generations.”

Her family had also been neo-traditionalists, with women staying home to raise kids, for generations. She’d believed Bradley had more mainstream notions of family and gender roles, but in the end Bradley had married her neo-trad sister.

Lily leaned her head back and spoke more to herself than to either of them. “Mom was never cut out to be a cop’s wife, she was determined her children wouldn’t serve.”

“Well,” Timothy said. “Nothing so simple as a name could stop you, could it?” He squeezed her hand. “I guess this is my cue to go. Is there anything I can do for you before I do?”

The approval in his eyes left Lily feeling a little embarrassed. Uncomfortable. “There is one thing. A woman, late twenties, brought in this afternoon. Serious trauma, beaten and cut-up. I don’t know her name.”

“The one from The Mixer?”

“Yeah. Do you happen to know...”

Timothy’s smile slipped into a more sedate curve. “Critical but stable, last I heard.”

The woman was still alive. Relief washed over Lily like a wave crashing over the sand. Cool and fresh then gone, leaving her raw and exposed. Even if the woman survived, Lily knew she would have to fight a lethal reaction to the toxin secreted from the gland beneath the Ormney claws. But that bit of knowledge wasn’t public.

“Thanks, Timothy.” Lily watched as he left the room.

Bradley paced over to the small window ledge crowded with bouquets. Sean must have com-linked the whole clan. When she’d come back to her room after the bone mending the flowers had been waiting.

“The O’Learys,” he said, shaping a hand in the air around the synthetic blooms as if they were too delicate to touch.

“Family,” she said.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, but kept his eyes fixed firmly on the flowers as he spoke. “I suppose there’s one in here with my name on the card.”

“Yes,” she said. “You and Rose. The big bunch of yellow carnations.” The silly things were stuffed into a container covered in smiley faces. Sunny. Cheerful. No doubt the perfect thing for a relative confined to a med facility bed.

Bradley nodded. “Rose always knows the right thing for any occasion.” He waved one hand toward the slender vase of calla lilies, so deeply purple they appeared black. “These must be from—”

“Sara,” she confirmed. Her favorite O’Leary cousin and the one closest to her in age. Sara was Sean’s younger sister and he must have called her while Lily was on the way to the med facility. Sara’s floral arrangement had been the first to arrive. “The card says, ‘you picked a crappy day to get hurt. Don’t die before I have a chance to come over there and kill you.’”

“That woman has a morbid sense of humor.”

“Appropriate for a Medical Examiner.” Lead ME for one of the largest metropolitan areas in the country. All the O’Learys were strong, smart, capable, but Sara was Einstein-smart. She could have been head of any lab at any University or Institution she chose, and yet she’d chosen to stick close to the family business—law enforcement, crime fighting. The O’Learys were public servants down to their toes. Lily loved that about them.

Bradley continued to study the flowers, his back to her. “She still won’t speak to me without snarling or threatening me with bodily harm, you know.”

She hadn’t known. The thought that one of the O’Learys had taken Lily’s side warmed her in a way she should no doubt feel guilty over. They’d all supported her at first, but they’d all gone Switzerland when Bradley married Rose. Lily understood. Rose was family too.

“Can’t blame her,” said Bradley, finally turning to face her. “Sara’s right,” he said. “What I did was unforgiveable. Stupid. After you and I broke up, she called me. Told me I was an idiot and someday I’d see that and be eaten up with regret.”

He crossed the small room in two graceful strides that brought him to her bedside, so close his thighs brushed the blanket. She could smell the subtle spiciness of his cologne. “She was right,” he said, reaching for Lily’s hand. His fingers wrapped firmly around hers. “God, Lily. She was so right.”

Anguish lashed his features. Lily thought she should have rejoiced. She couldn’t count the times she’d wished him miserable.

More than that, he’d said what she’d longed to hear. She should be happy or at least satisfied, but the shock of it sat coldly in her belly.

“Damn, Bradley.” Lily jerked her hand free. “Sara is right. You are an idiot. You can’t say shit like that to me. Get the hell out of my room before I break your pretty face.”

Bradley took a quick step back out of reach, but a grin tugged at those sensual lips. “Rose never yells at me, you know. Never calls me names.” There was a wistful note in his voice.

Lily didn’t want to think about Rose. Her sister. Her twin. They’d been as close as any two people could be...and then they weren’t. Weren’t close. Weren’t anything at all.

He looked down to his toes then back up, his grin wider than before. “You still like my face, huh?”

Lily met his gaze coolly. “You know how easy it would be to rearrange your features?” Even in her own ears her voice sounded lethally calm. “I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

His grin slipped, his expression turning repentant, earnest. “Damn it, Lily. I wish you would. I deserve it and it would at least prove you’ve still got feelings for me. Anything is better than apathy.”

Frustration bubbled up over the cold anger. This is why he did so well in the diplomatic core, she thought. If she hit him now he’d see it as proof she gave a damn. One way or the other.

“Just go, Bradley.”

“I can’t do that.” His shoulders straightened and his chin lifted. The difference was subtle, but unmistakable. “I’m actually here on official business.”

“What?”

“It’s about the woman who was attacked today and the Ormney male you terminated.”

Jolaj watched the machines pump air into the woman’s lungs. His own breathing slowed, weighted down with sorrow. Surrounded by the noisy equipment and plastic tubing, she looked small and frail. Nothing like the sturdy human female he remembered. He’d never met her, but he’d seen her. With her big brown eyes, broad nose, and short black hair styled to spike wildly around her head, she’d resembled Lanyak’s lost mate as much as any Earther could. Jolaj understood why his old friend had been drawn to her even if he hadn’t approved.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” There was an edge to O’Leary’s voice.

His presence didn’t surprise Jolaj. He’d been expecting him. But he didn’t know what had brought on the animosity.

“Detective,” he acknowledged.

O’Leary leaned against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re making the staff nervous. People are bound to be a bit touchy for a while.”

Jolaj didn’t want to make things worse, but he’d owed it to Lanyak to look in on the woman. “She was attacked by an Ormney male and here I am, standing over her and out of The Zone after curfew. No need to explain.”

The curfew required all Ormney to return to The Zone by seven each night, one of the many conditions of the treaty between the Earthers and his people. With time they’d taken what had once been a fenced area containing a few cramped barracks and built it into a small town tucked behind a four-stories-high and meters-thick alloy wall. It had become home, but it could be taken away any time the Earthers chose. The treaty allowed the Ormney to stay on Earth in exchange for technical knowledge the Earthers hadn’t yet developed. But it gave them few rights and made it impossible to move beyond refugee status.

Jolaj stepped forward to leave, but the detective straightened and stood firmly in his way.

“You said you knew the attacker.” The detective spoke with uncharacteristic anger simmering beneath his words. He’d always been sympathetic in the past. If they’d lost a supporter because of this attack, the response from their detractors would be much worse.

“Yes. I knew Lanyak from before The Crossing.”

The detective indicated the woman on the bed with a jerk of his chin. “She’s a licensed sex worker. Do you have any idea why Lanyak might have been visiting this woman?”