Against the Law (11 page)

Dev set the phone back on the bedside table. He plumped his down pillow, trying to get comfortable, hoping this time he'd be able to sleep.

Instead, when he closed his eyes, he saw Lark standing in the doorway, her big green eyes widened in horror. He thought of how brave she had been, how strong and determined. She wasn't like any other woman he had ever known.

Certainly, she was nothing like Amy.

His ex-fiancée had been soft and loving, the kind of female who would faint dead away at the sight of all that blood. She was the kind of sweetly feminine woman he had always wanted. The kind a man married, not the kind a man just wanted to fuck.

Amy had made him want her, but not with the kind of gnawing hunger he felt for Lark.

He thought of the woman sleeping on the other side of the pool, her thoughts full of murder and worry for the sweet little girl who had lost her family. There was no way she was thinking of him or of sex, or better yet, of sex with him.

Still, just imagining her in bed made him hard.

Dev sighed in the darkness. It was not quite two in the morning. After the day he'd put in, it seemed a lot later.

Get back to the problems at hand.
First thing tomorrow, Lark needed to call her attorney. Steve Rutgers, he recalled, the one she was thinking of having sex with.

A bitter taste rose in his mouth.
No way,
he vowed.
His job was almost over. If Lark wanted sex, he'd be more than happy to give it to her.

Realizing he was veering off track again, he began to mentally go over what he needed to do in the morning.

Then Lark would no longer be his client. Till then, taking her to bed would have to wait at least a few more days.

A
s the hour grew late, the wind came up, rattling dry leaves and the stiff spines of an ocotillo against the window. Next to Lark on the other side of the bed, Chrissy began to stir, her small legs moving restlessly beneath the sheets.

Lark watched her with growing concern. So far the child had mostly been sleeping, the sedative and the events of the day leaving her completely exhausted. Now, she tossed and turned. With a sudden sharp gasp, she sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes darting frantically around the room.

“Where…where is this place? Where am I?”

Lark eased closer, slid an arm around her shoulders. “You're with your aunt Lark, Chrissy, remember? You and I spent the afternoon together. You came with me for a visit.”

“I want my nana.” Chrissy started crying.

Lark moved over to the little girl's side of the bed,
swung her legs to the side and sat on the edge. She straightened the cotton pajamas she had bought herself at Walmart since she usually slept in the nude, lifted and settled the child in her lap.

“Please don't cry. You're safe and everything is going to be all right.”

“I want my nana,” the child repeated. “Where's my Nana Lupita?”

Lark had been avoiding the answer to those sorts of questions all afternoon. It was getting harder and harder to do.

“Your nana went away for a while, sweetheart. She asked me to take care of you while she was gone.”

Chrissy looked up at her, her eyes wet with tears. “Where's my mommy and daddy?”

Lark felt a tug at her heart. Memories of blood and death returned but she quickly forced them away. Chrissy sniffed and started crying again.

“Don't cry, honey, please.” But the words didn't stop the tears.

At a loss as to what to do, Lark looked up to see Aida Clark bustling through the open doorway. The housekeeper swept into the bedroom in a pink quilted bathrobe that floated out around her wide-hipped body. Her sleep-mussed silver-blond hair stuck up in several places and clung to the back of her neck.

Getting a relieved look from Lark, she lifted Chrissy into her arms and settled the child on her hip.

“I'm Mrs. Clark,” she said. “You and I are going to become great friends, did you know that?”

Chrissy sniffed, looked up at Aida with interest.

“We're going to play games together and bake cookies. You like cookies, don't you?”

Chrissy nodded.

“What kind of cookies do you like?”

Chrissy just stared at her.

Aida jiggled her a little to recapture her attention. “Surely you have a favorite. Everyone does. Is it coconut macaroon?”

Chrissy shook her head.

“What then?”

“Chocolate chip.”

Aida smiled. “Well, now, that's your aunt Lark's favorite cookie, too.”

Chrissy looked over at Lark for confirmation.

“That's right,” Lark said though her favorite was really oatmeal with nuts and raisins. “Mrs. Clark promised to make us some tomorrow.”

“And I get to help?” Chrissy asked.

“You sure do,” Lark said.

“In the meantime, why don't I fix you a nice warm cup of cocoa?” Aida suggested. “That'll help you go back to sleep.”

Chrissy rubbed her eyes. She looked into Aida's pleasant face. “Okay.”

“Good. Now how do you like your cocoa? With a little extra sugar? Or would you rather have it plain?”

“Sugar, please.”

“All right, then. Let's go in the kitchen and we'll fix it just the way you like.”

Lark sighed with relief at how well Aida's distrac
tions were working, silencing Chrissy's tears at least for a while.

They sat around the small, bleached pine kitchen table and drank cups of cocoa, then when Chrissy's eyelids began to droop, Lark carried her back to bed. This time, she settled the child next to her, cuddled her close, and pulled the light down comforter up over them.

In minutes, the child was fast asleep.

Lark smoothed back an errant dark curl. She couldn't keep avoiding Chrissy's questions. Tomorrow she would make an appointment with a child psychologist, someone who could help the little girl get through the trauma of discovering neither of her parents nor her nanny would ever be coming back again.

Tears threatened. No matter the reason, no one deserved to die the way they had. And if it hadn't been for Nanny Lupita, Chrissy might be dead, as well.

Lark fluffed her pillow, trying to get comfortable. Along with the psychologist, she needed to call her attorney, get the paperwork started to secure Chrissy's permanent guardianship. She didn't think it would be much of a problem. There would be background checks and paperwork, but she certainly had the financial means to support a child, and with Heather gone, Lark was her nearest relative.

The guardianship should only be a formality. The real problems would come from trying to raise an orphan—or any child for that matter, since Lark hadn't the least experience.

It'll all work out,
she told herself firmly, hoping she was right.

Bending down, she kissed the top of the little girl's head. One thing was clear. Her life was about to change.

She thought of Devlin Raines and the fierce attraction she felt for him and released a sigh of regret.

Too bad she hadn't acted on that attraction before it was too late.

 

Dev sat behind the desk in his office. The morning was a little cooler, the sun's rays not as fierce as they had been the day before.

“I'll keep you posted,” Dev said, ending his conversation with his oldest brother, setting the phone back in its cradled. An instant later, it started ringing again. Recognizing the caller ID, he reached over and picked it up. “Hey, bro.”

Gabe's deep voice answered. “Hey, little brother, how you holdin' up?”

Stories of the murders in Tubac and the miraculous escape of the Wellers' four-year-old daughter were all over the national news. Jackson knew enough about Dev's investigation to figure out the child was the one he'd been searching for. Jackson had probably called Gabe. Or his middle brother had caught a glimpse of Dev on CNN holding the little girl in his arms.

Dev inwardly groaned. Only a local Tucson news team had been on the scene when they left for home. Apparently, it was a big enough story to go national.

“I'm all right, considering. There's an army of newsmen camped among the cactus in my front yard, which I have to admit, caught me a little off guard. I should
have known they'd track us down, but I guess I was just too beat last night to think clearly.”

“How's your lady doing?”

Dev smiled. Jackson had definitely called. “My client, you mean? She's way tougher than I thought. Stayed with me every step of the way through that house of horrors. Determined to find the little girl.”

“Sounds like a keeper to me.”

“She's leaving as soon as she gets things settled with the Child Protective Agency, going back to her place in L.A.”

“That so,” Gabe said.

“How's Mattie? She hasn't wised up and dumped your sorry ass for another guy?”

Gabe chuckled. “Not yet. She had a little morning sickness for a while, but she thinks it's over.”

“That's got to be good news.”

“Yeah…listen, about the murders…anything I can do?”

“No, but I'm glad you called. This thing is a mess and Lark is right in the middle of it.”

“If she's as tough as you say, she'll be fine.”

“I know, but still…”

“But still you care about her and you wish she and the little girl didn't have to go through any of this.”

“She's my client. Of course, I care.”

“Right.”

“Look, I gotta go. One of the herd is pounding on the door and if they don't stop, Town's going to eat 'em alive.”

Gabe just laughed. “Take care, little brother.” He
signed off and Dev hung up the phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, felt the beard stubble he hadn't bothered to shave, and wished he'd slept better last night.

“What are we going to do?”

Dev looked up to see Lark standing next to his desk. There were smudges beneath her eyes and her skin was a little too pale. She looked beautiful and fragile and amazingly undaunted. His admiration grew.

“We'll handle the press,” he said. “This is a big human-interest story. Chrissy and the fate of her parents. If you think it's bad now, wait till word gets out that she was a black market baby and you're the aunt who came to her rescue.”

Lark sank down in the chair beside his desk. “Oh, my God.” Absently she reached up to massage the back of her neck and he could almost feel the tension zipping through her body.

He rose and moved behind her. “Here, let me do that.” Gently his hand took the place of hers and he began to massage the tightness away. Lark bent her head to give him better access.

A little moan escaped. “That feels heavenly.”

“When the time is right, I plan to massage you all over.”

A blush slipped into her cheeks. “I bet that would really feel good.”

He imagined touching her, watching her passion spring to life. “Yeah” was all he said.

With a sigh, Lark rose from her chair. “We need a plan.”

Dev rose, too. “You're right, let's figure out what we
need to do.” Crossing to the wet bar, he poured each of them a cup of coffee and they carried their mugs over to the teakwood table and sat down.

“I called my attorney,” Lark said, blowing on the liquid to cool it. “He said he'd be here as fast as he could.”

Dev's jaw tightened. “Good ol' Steve.”

She looked up. “That's right. Steve can handle the press and do the paperwork necessary to get Chrissy into my custody. As soon as that happens, the two of us will be out of your hair.”

“You aren't in my hair. You can stay as long as you like.”

She cocked a dark eyebrow. “We wouldn't be cramping your style?”

He flashed a smile. “Depends where you'd be sleeping.”

Lark laughed.

“We need to arrange for a psychologist,” Dev said, “get one to come to the house.”

“Already done. Steve knew someone in L.A. who recommended someone in Phoenix. Eva Rossi will be here at eleven.”

“Leave it to efficient ol' Steve.”

She just smiled. “Anything else?”

“Stay out of sight as much as you can until good ol', efficient Steve gets the news boys off your back.”

Her laugh was softer now, a little less strained.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked.

She sipped the coffee as if she wished it were a shot of whiskey. “I'll be okay. You've really been great, Dev. Whatever amount I owe you won't be enough.”

“You don't owe me anything. I was never going to take your money. I owed Madman. Once everything's settled with you and Chrissy, my debt will be paid.”

She eyed him with interest. “It must have been a very big debt.”

“You could say that.”

“Go on.”

“It happened when we were in the Rangers. A mission in Colombia that went wrong. Nothing you would have heard about. Nothing in the news.”

“And?”

“And Clive saved my life.”

Her eyebrows went up. “That's as big as it gets.”

“Yeah.”

Lark glanced down at the dark brew in her mug. “It shouldn't take long to get the paperwork done.”

“Depends on good ol' Steve.”

Those lush pink lips edged up. “When I get home, I'm going to ask Clive about that time in Colombia.”

He just shrugged. He would rather forget it himself.

“The coffee was great,” Lark said, taking a last sip from her mug as she rose from her chair. “Aida's been a godsend, but I don't want to leave her with Chrissy too long. I'll let you know how the appointment with Dr. Rossi goes.”

“Do that.”

She stopped when she reached the door. “Maybe you could…ummm…come over and join us for lunch.”

Dev felt the unexpected pull of a smile. For some insane reason, having lunch with Lark and a four-year-old girl actually sounded good.

“That'd be great. I'll send out for pizza.”

“Aida's making macaroni and cheese.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“I'm making a salad and there's chocolate-chip cookies for dessert.”

“Sold. I'll see you at lunch.”

“One o'clock. We thought we'd eat out by the pool.” She waved a brief farewell as she disappeared out the door. It took a couple more seconds for her image to fade from his mind.

He sat back down at his desk. Things were moving forward, slowly getting resolved. In the meantime, he was hoping Johnnie Riggs would call with more information. He wondered if the police would come up with any leads that would point them in the direction of the shooters, but he really didn't think so.

The house was only twenty miles from the border. The men could have crossed into the States, made the hit, and returned to Mexico before the law even knew what had happened.

The authorities would probably never find them. But the Wellers had been responsible for their own troubles. The important thing was that little Chrissy was safe.

Dev tried not to think of the rough road ahead for the child, thought instead of his one-o'clock macaroni luncheon, and found himself smiling again.