If You See Her (24 page)

“I got it,” he said.

She arched a brow at him.

“I’m supposed to be doing this sort of thing,” she reminded him.

He ignored her.

He needed to answer that door. In his gut, he knew it.

With a feeling that was a weird mix of both dread and jubilation, he turned the doorknob.

The door opened to reveal an Amazon. That was his very first thought.

His second thought was that he didn’t know how in the hell she’d ended up on his property, but he wanted to so he could send whoever a thank-you card.

Her eyes … Shit. Her eyes.

They were the palest shade of gold he’d ever seen, paler than whiskey, but just as potent, just as strong. Mysterious and beautiful.

They stared into his, revealing nothing.

Her skin was the color of coffee and cream, warm and smooth and delicious.

The leather jacket she wore seemed too damn warm for the weather they were having, but it suited her. Just
like the plain black T-shirt suited her, just like the worn and faded jeans suited her.

He imagined black silk would suit her every bit as well. Black silk, pearls, red lipstick on that lush mouth. Or even nothing at all. Lust punched through him with a force that damn near leveled him.

She lifted a black brow at him.

Those lush lips parted and she said, “Are you Reilly? Law Reilly?”

Oh, shit. She was here looking for him.

Maybe fate had decided to smile on him.

He stepped aside and gestured her inside. “I am. And what can I do for you, Ms.…?”

“Nia. Call me Nia.” The thick black fringe of her lashes swept down, shielding her eyes. A faint smile curled her lips up as she sauntered inside, her hips swaying from side to side. He turned and admired the view as he shut the door.

“You’ve got a gorgeous house.”

You’ve got a gorgeous ass
, he thought. But he kept those words behind his teeth—barely. Nia. He liked that.

She shot him a look over her shoulder.

There was a strange look in her eyes, a mix of something. It bordered on satisfaction and contempt. With a smug grin curling her lips, she turned around and faced him from in the middle of the hallway.

“So. You’re Law Reilly.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, a siren started to wail.

He really, really needed to listen to it.

But he was still so caught up in staring at her … it wasn’t until she had that gun pointed at his head that he fully realized there was a problem.

But then she smirked at him, and that served as a very, very efficient wake-up call.

Aw, hell.

He almost gaped at her, but he had enough self-control—
barely
—to keep from staring at the gun in her hand like some slack-jawed yokel. Instead, he started ticking through his options and measuring the escape routes.

Hope had retreated to the kitchen and she was enough of a loner that unless she sensed a problem, she wasn’t coming out here.

Good.

One less victim.

This woman held the gun in a firm grasp, but there was something about her white-knuckled grip that told him she wasn’t used to handling weapons. Especially loaded ones. And he’d bet his busted right arm and his left arm that gun was loaded—she was looking for blood.

Still, she wasn’t comfortable with the weapon—one thing he had going for him.

He needed every last advantage he could get, considering the fact that his right arm was all but useless and his best friend was just a few yards away.

Yeah, Hope was a loner, but if she did meander out here, it would give this woman another target.

“Yeah. I’m Reilly,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady, even though he wanted to yell. “What can I do for you?”

That lush, pretty mouth of hers curled in a sneer.

“What can you do for me? How’s this for starts? Bring my cousin back—that woman you killed? I want her
back
.”

That woman you killed
—

Staring into her pale, grief-stricken golden eyes, something in his heart turned to ash.

Inexplicably, misery rolled through him. He’d been dealing with this shit for weeks. Yeah, some people believed
he had something to do with raping and killing a woman. Not a lot, but even one person thinking he could do that was too much.

He’d thought he was getting used to it—thought he could handle it.

What in the hell should it matter what this sleek, sexy stranger thought?

It shouldn’t. Shouldn’t matter, not one damn bit, but it did.

“I didn’t kill your cousin,” he said quietly. “I’ve never raised my hand to a woman in my life.”

She glared at him again, and even though she was standing there with a gun on him, even though she thought he was a murdering psychotic, he still found himself drawn to her—found himself wanting to cradle her face in his hands and see if he couldn’t soften the hard, angry line of her mouth. Then he wanted to pull her close and hold her, ease the grief he saw in her eyes.

“Yeah, like you’re going to say anything different.” The gun in her hand started to tremble.

People didn’t realize the strain it was to hold a firearm steady, especially for more than a few seconds.

“I wasn’t in town when she died.” He thought he heard a board creaking and he wanted to look, see if it was Hope, but he didn’t dare—couldn’t risk drawing attention to her. “I was at a funeral for a friend of mine. There was no way I could have killed her.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Also heard about your girlfriend—some sick shit the two of you got going between you. Is that how the two of you get your rocks off?” Her voice broke as she stared at him.

Law could see the desperation in her eyes and it clawed at his heart.

She didn’t really think he did it, he realized. She just wanted to—maybe even needed to. Needed some sort of
closure. And because she needed that, she needed to believe he had done it.

“Look,” he said softly, edging a step closer. He heard something from the hall—a soft, shaky gasp.

Fuck. It was Hope. He saw her from the corner of his eye. She had her back pressed to the wall and she had a phone in her hand.

Holding out a hand, he said, “Just put the gun down and we can talk. I can prove I wasn’t here and you can talk to my friend—you decide then if you really think she’s the sort of person who’d kill anybody.”

“Get the fuck
back
.”

Then she glanced past him. Her eyes widened and he swore. She’d just caught sight of Hope’s reflection in the mirror behind Law.

She shifted, taking two long strides and placing herself where she could see Law and Hope. “Put the damn phone down,” she snarled at Hope.

“When you put the gun down,” Hope said. Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away.

“Damn it, I said putting the fucking phone
down—
”

Law’s gut turned to ice as he saw her finger tighten on the trigger. Fuck it. She was close enough now. He swept up and out with his right leg. The crescent kick knocked the gun out of her hand and sent it flying. All three of them scrambled for it, but Law blocked the woman and Hope got to it first.

The Amazon swung at him and that long, lean body of hers had some serious power in it. He grunted, pain shooting through him as he blocked the first punch with his casted arm.

She swung again, this time with her right hand and he blocked with his left, trapping her arm and shifting so that he had her pinned against him.

Aw, hell
 …

He immediately shifted position because if he stayed
like
that
, there was no way she’d believe he wasn’t a perverted killer. He shouldn’t have a raging hard-on, not when she’d just pulled a gun on him and his best friend.

Not when his arm was screaming like a bitch.

Not when she was glaring at him like she’d want nothing more than to see him six feet under.

“Let me the fuck go,” she snarled.

Her pupils were huge, just the thinnest sliver of gold showing. Her mouth, so soft and lush, trembled. And although her voice and body were all attitude and fight, there was fear inside her.

Fear and grief and rage.

She struggled against him and he had to lean against her harder, muffling a groan as it put more pressure on his arm. “If I do, are you going to attack me again?” he asked.

Her body tensed.

Her eyes stared into his.

He stared at her like he’d really let her go.

He wouldn’t. He was toying with her. He had to be.

That was what she wanted to believe, needed to believe.

But staring into his eyes, she wondered …

Nia knew people. It was her stock in trade—she knew when they were scum, knew when they were basically decent people. She knew when she was being conned, knew when she was being told the truth. She also knew when she was staring into the eyes of a human monster.

That was what she’d come here hoping—
needing
—to find.

Fuck
.

Silencing that inner voice, she told herself not to write him off yet. Hell, sociopaths could fool anybody, right?

Staring into those all-too-nice eyes, she gave a terse nod. “Fine. You let me go and I’ll be good … for now.”

Not that he would let her go.

Except he did.

Those eyes, green-gold and flecked with brown, stared into hers for long seconds and then the hand that had kept her wrists pinned slowly let go. He eased away and just like that, she was free.

Narrowing her eyes, she shoved away from the wall, glanced from him to the little brunette who’d crept into the room.

Slim, shy, and pale, the woman stood holding the gun in hands that trembled.

She was so frightened, the woman looked like she’d jump if you yelled
boo
too loud.

Scowling, Nia looked from Reilly to the woman.

“Who in the hell is she?”

She kept her gaze focused on Reilly, even though she kept the woman in her line of sight—just in case it was an act. Although she knew it wasn’t.
Nobody
acted that good.

“That’s my friend, Hope,” he said, his voice soft and easy, like he was trying to talk to a mad dog.

The words hit her heart with the force of a sledgehammer to her chest.

Hope
.

“Hope Carson?” she said, forcing the words past her tight throat.

Even as she shot one quick glance at the woman, she already knew the answer.

And she started to kick herself, even as shame and grief crawled through her belly.

We’ve got two cold-blooded killers in this town—a man by the name of Law Reilly, and his mistress, Hope Carson. They are a piece of work—murdering savages, the both of them
.

That gossipy, conniving old bitch—

The woman glanced at Reilly and then at Nia. “Yes, I’m Hope Carson.”

Nia closed her eyes and tipped her head back, staring up at the ceiling. A harsh, bitter laugh escaped her. The sheriff had warned her. She had to give him credit. He’d tried to warn her.

“That crazy old bitch,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That crazy, crazy old bitch.”

Tears burned in the back of her throat—choked her. They stung her eyes, threatening to blind her. But she wouldn’t give in to them.

Joely deserved more of her than tears. Joely deserved justice. Joely deserved to have her killer caught.

Waiting until she could face these two without breaking, she took one deep, slow breath, then another. And another. Then, she opened her eyes and made herself face Law Reilly.

He was staring at her with a disconcerting mix of sympathy and understanding. Like he knew too many of the thoughts whirling through her mind.

The woman, though, Hope, she was staring at Nia like she was a time bomb about ready to explode.

You have no idea how right you are
.

She still held the gun, too, gripped in skinny, pale hands that looked far too small to hold the weight of the unregistered, and very illegal, Browning.

Holding out her hand, Nia quietly said, “Can I have the gun back?”

“Are you
nuts
?”

Her green eyes went wide and her jaw dropped as she gaped at Nia. Then she shot Reilly a quick look—the kind of look that said,
You do something with her
.

Setting her jaw, Nia said, “Look, I’m sorry. I was given some bad information and I reacted … well, badly. I apologize. Now can I please have my fucking gun so I can leave?”

She hardened her voice and glared at the smaller woman, fully prepared to intimidate the hell out of her, if she had to. Hope Carson looked like she had a spine made out of Jell-O and while Nia generally didn’t get off on intimidation, if she had to use it to get what she needed, then she would. This was the type of woman who would cave under that sort of pressure—Nia would have almost laid money on it.

But she would have been out the cash, because Hope glared at her.

“Um, no, you can’t have your fucking gun,” Hope said, her eyes narrowing. “You reacted
badly
? You think that’s sufficient? That’s sort of like calling Hurricane Katrina a thunderstorm, don’t you think?”

“Look,” Nia growled, advancing another step. “My
cousin
, my
only family
, is dead and I was told you two had something to do with it. What in the hell would
you
do?”

Hope jerked the gun up.

Sneering, Nia said, “You couldn’t use that if you had to, Tinkerbell.”

“Wanna bet?” Hope snapped.

“That’s enough.” Law stepped between them, pushing the gun down. He took it away from Hope and Nia watched as he managed to get the safety on, even though he was somewhat compromised, considering he had his right arm in a cast. But if she thought he was going to turn it over, she was dead wrong.

He looked it over, and shot her a quick glance, one brow lifting. “This is illegal.”

Nia just stared at him, wondering how he knew to look. Yeah, the serial numbers had been removed but not everybody knew to check for that.

When he tucked it in the back of his pants, she snarled at him. “Give me my damn gun.”

“You managed to get your hands on one unregistered
gun, you can get another and I’m not letting you in my house with a loaded weapon.”