The Trouble with Temptation (5 page)

Now he was looking at her, green eyes stroking over her face like a caress. She felt it all the way down to her toes. Her heart skipped a few beats.

“Okay.” Her breath stuttered out of her and she wanted to reach for him. She wanted to smile at him and she tried to make her mouth form the familiar gesture. Part of her wanted to ask him about the fight, but she was so tired and she wasn’t certain she could handle having anything else thrown at her. Awkwardly, she smoothed down the generic hospital gown, wishing she had something else to wear. She felt all but naked, stripped bare and vulnerable as she looked away. “I just … well. You don’t have to be here. Unless you…”

She shot him a quick look and shrugged. “I mean, unless you want to be.”

Brannon’s brows furrowed and he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean … I guess this was kind of a shock, unplanned and all. Since we just got together.” She pressed a hand to her belly, still stunned by what the doctor had told her. “We probably haven’t talked about this kind of thing. I don’t think we planned it, did we?”

Brannon ran his tongue across his teeth and she had the uncomfortable urge to squirm. Unable to hold his gaze as he watched her so closely, she focused on smoothing out the wrinkles in the gown she wore, one by one.

“I don’t plan things.”

His voice was closer and she found herself mesmerized by the low, rhythmic sound of it. He could make a killing singing, she’d bet. Dragging her eyes up, she stared at him as he once more came to crouch in front of her, balancing on the balls of his booted feet. “I don’t plan. Plans and me … well, we don’t always work out. I just do.”

Her breath hitched as he pushed her hair back. “So … if that was a subtle way of kicking me out, it won’t work. If you want me gone, Hannah Parker, you’ll have to outright say it.”

That light touch made her heart slam hard against her ribs. “Should I want you gone?”

“Probably.” Green eyes moved to her mouth. “There are probably even a dozen, or a hundred reasons, at least. But I’m not going to help you out by telling you what they are.”

Brannon watched as her mouth pulled to the side in a lopsided frown. He wanted to kiss it away, wanting to stroke away all the nerves he could feel burning inside her.

“I feel like I should push that,” she said, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I have this feeling I’m mad at you.”

He braced himself, but as she continued to look at him, the frown was replaced by a smile. An exhausted, vulnerable one. “But I’m just too worn out to care. How can I still be so tired? I slept for a damn week.”

“Being in a coma isn’t really the same as sleeping.” Guilt started to burn in his gut and he knew he needed to tell her something. But was now
really
the time?

When her lashes started to flutter low, that made up his mind.

It wasn’t the time. He’d wait until she was stronger, steadier. Less worn out.

Then they’d talk. Maybe he could use that time to fix the damage he’d caused. Maybe he could undo the hurt he’d caused her.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” He reached out a hand and brushed her hair back. It was lank and dull, evidence of the past week. Her eyes were huge, her cheeks looking oddly hollow. She’d lost weight.

She looked fragile, but her voice was steady when she said, “No. I’m tired of the damn bed.”

The idea of
anything
making Hannah Parker look fragile was enough to enrage him. His heart twisted. He’d do anything if he could just undo the past few weeks.

If he’d been smart, the first time she’d caught his eye, he would have made a move. He’d wanted her for a long time. If he was honest with himself, he’d felt a tug of interest back when she’d been way too young for him. He’d been right to stay away from her then.

She’d been Neve’s friend and unlike most of the people Neve normally hung out with, she’d stood out from the pack in so many ways. Most of his little sister’s friends back then had clearly been out to use her or just out to hang in odd sort of bubbling, chaotic trouble that had followed along behind Neve McKay like a shadow.

That hadn’t been Hannah. She was quiet, though not shy. Serious and brooding as a kid, as though she’d already lived a couple of lifetimes.

Most people in town knew about Hannah’s stepdad and when he’d died from a heart attack, the only person who’d really mourned for him had been his wife, Hannah’s mom. She’d died a year later, leaving Hannah alone.

No, he couldn’t have done anything the first time he’d really noticed Hannah. She’d been fifteen and he’d been twenty, already in college. Maybe she’d acted older than most high school kids, but that didn’t change a damn thing.

When he’d come home, she’d been gone herself, off to school in Florida, although she’d ended up leaving early and transferring to a smaller, local school and when he’d seen her again, he’d felt it. That hard, demanding tug of attraction.

She’d felt it, too. Their eyes had met while she was out on a date and both of them had felt it—he’d seen it in her warm, dark eyes, but he’d shoved it aside. Not just because she’d been with another guy, either.

Brennan avoided anything but the most superficial of relationships and he always had.

Then there had come a time when she hadn’t been with some guy and he’d run into her. Her glances would linger and he had still ignored that tug between them. He’d ignored the attraction—and her.

Why
?

The answer, though, was ridiculously simple.

Brannon McKay was a coward.

He knew too much about losing people.

He’d been down that road before and it had all but destroyed his family.

It had all but destroyed
him
.

He could look back at all the things he’d done wrong, all the mistakes both he and Moira had made, the shit they’d done that had screwed Neve up. Everything they’d done wrong. They’d almost lost Neve because of it. Just days ago, he’d almost lost
both
of them and he was still sick about that.

Now, standing there staring at Hannah, he realized that it hadn’t done any good—the so-called limits he’d tried to impose on himself. He still wanted her. He still cared. Too much.

Her gaze skittered to his, lingered and then moved away. “I don’t understand this. Why…”

She stopped. Just stopped.

He knelt in front of her again, covering her hand with his.

“What?” he asked. He’d spent too much time ignoring everything about her and it hadn’t done a damn bit of good. He was already lost in her and he’d come so close to her being gone. Now he wanted to know all the things he’d pretended weren’t there, weren’t real. He wanted to know what she was thinking, feeling, doing. He wanted to know what she was hiding.

Her jaw went tight when she swung her head back around to look at him. “It’s just…” She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the chair. “It’s everything. Not remembering the most basic things. Being so tired. Part of me feels like I need to be angry with you and the other part wants to just grab you and hold on.”

“I like the idea of you grabbing me and holding on.”

Her lashes flew open and her gaze bounced to his.

Shrugging, he sat back down in front of her and slowly took her hands in his. “Go ahead and hold on, Hannah. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her gaze softened.

“I might have to do that.” She squeezed his hands back and again, her lashes drifted down.

Again, he was struck by how vulnerable she looked and guilt began to chew a hole in him. He hated feeling guilty, hated the weight of it, but what was he supposed to do? Throw another burden on her when she was clearly struggling to deal with this one?

Brooding, he focused on her hands. She said she just might hold on to him. He wanted to get on his knees and convince her to do just that—and to let him hold onto her. He didn’t know how to handle any of this, relationships, the need, the want … it was all new territory for him and he hated feeling so uncertain.

Her hands tightened on his and he slowly lifted his head to meet the soft, dark brown of her eyes. “What?” he asked softly.

“I just … I can’t explain it. I look at you and feel all these crazy emotions inside, but I can’t
remember
us.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “There’s this thing inside me. I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it. But it’s big and it makes me ache and wish and want and when I look at you, it only gets worse. But it’s like there’s something unfinished. Then I think about this baby…”

She stopped and laughed. “A baby. How in the world can I be pregnant? I don’t remember
anything
!”

Abruptly, she jerked her hands back and shoved them through her hair, frustration turning the air tense.

“Hannah.” He used the same voice he used when he was playing mediator or peacekeeper with half the damn town or on the rare board meetings he was forced to attend. It didn’t quite have the same effect on her that it had with others, but then again, Hannah was always being contrary. “It’s going to be okay. I know it’s hard to trust that right now, but baby, it’s going to be fine.”

Her mouth flattened out into a tight, straight line and she shook her head. “How?”

He took her hands back in his, lifting one to his mouth and kissing it.

Hannah’s breath caught and her gaze lowered to their joined hands.

The instinct to lean in and kiss her was strong—damn strong. Instead of giving into it, he rubbed small circles over the backs of her hands. “Because you’re alive. Because you’re here. Because we are together … and that’s all that matters to me.”

*   *   *

“Chief.”

Gideon Marshall bit back a stream of curses and withdrew his hand from the door.

His small police force ran like a well-oiled machine most days. There was one detective—soon to be two—and one lieutenant, and then the men and women he had in uniform. A team of twelve people, all in all. Not a big police department, but McKay’s Treasure wasn’t a big town.

With it being such a small town, Gideon was often directly involved in investigations, although mostly in supervisory capacity. Not this time, though.

Griffin had left word that Gideon had to get to the hospital and speak with Hannah Parker. Amnesia, didn’t that just beat all?

Still, he had to talk to her and he’d made it clear he wasn’t to be disturbed over unnecessary bullshit. Even the necessary bullshit could wait. Until it was urgent, he didn’t want to be contacted.

Since the detective bothering him was a genius at reading between the lines, Gideon had to assume this was important.

Sighing, he turned and looked at Deatrick Outridge. He’d been on his way out the front door of the station house—seconds away.

Deatrick had a small black fire safe in his long, skinny hands and behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes were gleaming.

“You aren’t going to believe this, sir. I know you need to get to the hospital, but this is crazy.”

Gideon braced his hands on his hips and waited.

But the detective shook his head. “Not out here, sir.”

Gideon sighed and nodded toward his office. “Let’s see what you got.”

A few minutes later, he was still gaping in disbelief at what he had on his computer.

“How far does this go back?” he asked softly.

“Years, man,” Deatrick said, his excitement becoming more and more apparent. Like Gideon, Deatrick was a Treasure native and like Gideon, Deatrick had gone on to serve in the military. He’d done his one term though, gotten out, and had gone on to college. He’d done a few years on the force in Huntsville before returning to Treasure with his wife, once they had found out she was expecting. He was one of the best cops Gideon had ever worked with—and sharp as a blade.

Both of them knew what they were looking at.

Shayla Hardee hadn’t just been a mean-spirited gossip. Judging by what they were looking at, she’d most likely been involved in blackmail.

Now they had the possibility of what looked like a serious motive behind her death.

A motive, and a damn long list of possible suspects. More than fifteen names—and one of them was a damn cop.

“Why the hell didn’t he come to me?” Gideon muttered, staring at the broad, shiny face of Officer Theodore Billings. Theodore wasn’t in uniform. Matter of fact, he wasn’t in
anything
—well, unless you counted the man who was on his knees in front of him.

It seemed Teddy had some secrets, and one of them included a lover who looked about half his age.

“He wouldn’t risk it,” Deatrick said, shaking his head. There was some sympathy in his voice when he glanced away from the screen to meet Gideon’s gaze. “You know how people are about this shit.”

The video came to an end and the next one popped up. Both of them went silent as they waited to see what sort of dirt Shayla had on this one—it would be about Teddy. Shayla was nothing if not organized. Gideon had already …

“Son of a bitch,” Deatrick whispered.

Gideon closed his eyes.

Then he rubbed them, blinked hard twice, and looked again.

“Well, the good news is we can’t say this would catch Teddy’s wife by surprise,” Deatrick said, craning his head as if to get a better look.

It was possible he needed to—the images on the screen now included more limbs. Three heads. Six limbs. Two of the bodies were male. One was Teddy and the other was the man from the earlier videos. The woman was, without a doubt, LaToya, Teddy’s wife of almost twenty years.

“And now we have another suspect,” Gideon muttered.

Deatrick looked down at the fire safe. So far, he’d managed to go through maybe a quarter of the contents.

“I’m going to have a long day, aren’t I?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I bet you’re ready for tomorrow!”

Hannah managed to smile at the nurse. Her name was Jill. Jill had graduated a year behind Hannah, attended a technical nursing program and then gone on to get her bachelor’s degree.

Hannah knew all of this because she’d asked.