Secrets Of An Old Flame. Jill Limber
“No problem.”
Joe was already jogging out the door as he heard the rookie’s reply. Why hadn’t Nikki said something this afternoon?
From the precinct parking lot it took exactly eight minutes to get to the Walker house observing the speed limit. Joe pulled up behind the black-and-white in under five, his mind in a turmoil.
Worry for Nikki and anger that she kept such a vital fact from him warred in his head.
Two vans from local news stations were already on scene. Apparently the press wasn’t done covering last year’s crime. When two of the city’s wealthiest men had disappeared along with their company’s assets, leaving nothing behind except a dead secretary, the media had had a field day.
He ignored the knots of neighbors standing across the street. Upscale neighborhoods rarely saw police activity and people had come out to watch. The reporters were harder to avoid, but he held up his hand and kept walking, muttering a curse that made them step back.
Damned vultures. The publicity a year ago had upset Nikki to the point of making her ill.
Joe fished his badge out of his pocket, flipped it open and slid it into the breast pocket of his jacket. A uniform at the door put up a hand to stop him, then spotted his badge and stepped back to let him pass.
“Where are they working?” He needed to get to Nikki, but he didn’t want to barge in and contaminate a crime scene.
The patrolman pointed. “They’re on the north side of the house. Perps came through the side doors.”
Joe remembered the French doors that led from the garden into the breakfast room. Easy to breach. “Where’s Ms. Walker?”
He wanted to see her, alone.
The uniform gestured. “Upstairs.”
Taking the graceful, curved stairs two at a time, Joe poked his head in Nikki’s room. Empty. It looked the same as it had a year ago. Smelled the same too. Sweet and spicy. Like her.
A scent that got stronger when she was naked, and aroused.
Joe muttered a curse under his breath as his body responded to the memory.
He found her in the next room. She was sitting in the dark, wrapped in a blanket and huddled in a big stuffed chair. The only light came from the hallway behind him and didn’t reach across the room to touch her.
Joe stopped in the door and took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Are you all right?” He reached for the light switch.
“Don’t turn on the light,” she said in a flat, unemotional tone.
Ignoring her, he flipped the switch. He needed to see her, make sure she was okay.
She flinched against the flood of brightness, tucking her chin against her chest. He took a step into the room and glanced around.
“Go away. I don’t want you here.” Rhythmically she rocked from side to side.
He had no intention of leaving until she answered the questions buzzing in his head.
The way she was rocking bothered him. He’d seen enough traumatized victims do that in times of stress. She must be much more upset than she sounded.
Now that he saw she was not badly injured physically, her child was uppermost in his mind. He wanted to know everything, but given her current mental state he curbed the urge to interrogate her like a suspect. It would be best to lead up to the subject.
“Who broke in, Nikki?” He struggled to keep his voice low and calm. He wanted to strangle the bastards who’d hurt her.
“I already told the detective. I don’t know who they were.” Her face still averted, she huddled deeper into the blanket pulled up around her shoulders. She looked like a turtle retreating into a protective shell.
“What did they want?” He wanted to cross the room and tip her chin up so he could see her expression while she spoke, but he’d leave her be, for now.
She gave a bitter little laugh. “The same thing you want. My father.”
He was barely holding on to his temper. “Who knew you were here?”
She didn’t answer. He thought he detected a slight shrug of her shoulders.
Joe heard someone coming up the stairs.
He turned and saw the patrolman who had been at the front door.
“Detective McCully wants to see you downstairs.”
He should have guessed his partner Mac McCully would remember Joe’s past transgressions where Nikki Walker was concerned and try to protect him from making more.
McCully would want to investigate the break-in without him. Convenient for his partner that the 911 call tonight had come in when Joe was out of the precinct.
He stared hard at the uniformed cop. “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He said I should tell you to get downstairs right away.”
“Tell him I’ll be down,” Joe growled at the uniform, who backed up quickly, turned and left.
Joe turned his attention back to Nikki.
Ignoring the fact that she hadn’t answered his last question, he decided to bring up the subject that had been burning in his gut since he’d left the station. “Where’s the baby?”
She went very still. “Go away, Joe.”
He hadn’t heard her say his name for a year. He didn’t realize just how much he had missed it. “Tell me, Nikki. Where is the child?”
“Please, go away.” Her voice broke on a little sob.
The sound tore at him. “Nikki—”
“Galtero, are you nuts?” His partner’s familiar voice came from behind him and Joe muttered a curse under his breath.
“Go away, McCully.” Joe didn’t take his eyes off Nikki as he spoke to his partner.
He could see her shaking from across the room.
“You want to lose your shield for good?” McCully whispered fiercely in his ear.
Joe spoke without turning around. “I know what I’m doing.”
McCully snorted. “I doubt that. You’re thinking with your zipper again.”
Joe shrugged. “I’m here as a friend of the family.”
That comment earned Joe an expletive. Then McCully said, “I just heard her say how much she wants you here.”
Joe shrugged. “Go investigate, McCully. I need to talk to Ms. Walker.”
“You have five minutes, then I’m coming back,” McCully muttered under his breath, turned and headed toward the back stairs.
There wasn’t any more time to coax her. McCully was such a mother hen Joe would be lucky if he gave them the full five minutes before he returned.
Joe crossed the room in three strides and reached out to tip her face up. He needed to see her expression when he asked her again about the baby.
Nikki twisted away from the palm he had cupped under her chin and hunched back down into the blanket, but not before he saw her wet cheeks and the purple bruise along her jaw.
“Son of a bitch.” A red haze of anger blotted out what little rational thinking he’d been doing since he’d heard about the baby.
How badly had they hurt her? He hooked his hands gently around her upper arms to lift her out of the chair.
She gave a startled yelp of protest and twisted away from him. The blanket