If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (17 page)

The gentleness of the touch, the compassion in his eyes, it all but broke her.

But the fiery burn of anger had settled in her heart … 
finally
. And it gave her the strength she needed. Reaching up, she curled her fingers around his wrist, not to push him away, but to squeeze, to hold tight. Whether it was for support, to get his attention, she just didn’t know.

“I can’t
cope
, Law. Not right now. Not yet.” She blew out a breath, focused on the middle of his chest—breathed in, breathed out. “I can’t. Because I don’t think Joe Carson is the one who killed my cousin.”

Hope couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a picnic.

Not that this was a for-real picnic.

They’d eaten lunch with Remy’s mom, Elizabeth.

Something about the way the woman had all but hovered over Hope had made her feel so self-conscious—and
that
made her feel guilty because Elizabeth was a sweetheart. They’d gotten to be friends over the past few months and Elizabeth hadn’t ever acted like that before—staring at Hope with that shining, wide-eyed gaze and all but tripping over her feet as she followed them to the door.

She’d been acting weird enough that Hope had almost
asked Remy about it, but decided against it, especially seeing as how Remy was acting kind of weird, too.

Not mad or anything. Just quiet. And it made her nervous.

This was nice, though. Being here with him—some piece of land somebody in his family owned—Hope had no idea who. The Jennings clan seemed to multiply every time she turned around.

He had a basket with wine, more of that lovely local wine she liked so much, some strawberries, a blanket. Her heart all but melted at the romance of it. Hoping the smile on her face didn’t look too goofy, she sat and combed her fingers through Remy’s golden hair and stared at him.

Hell.

He was so pretty.

Too pretty.

And hers—he loved her.

Really loved her.

As if he’d been reading her mind, he opened his eyes and looked up at her—that amazing blue capturing her gaze, holding her. “I love you,” he said softly.

Her heart danced in her chest. As her heart sighed, she laid her hand on his cheek and murmured, “I love you, too.”

In an easy, lazy movement, he rolled to his knees and settled in front of her. “That’s a good thing to know.” A smile tugged at his lips. He caught her hand in his, lifted it to his lips. “Because I need to ask you something.”

“Hmm. Okay.” She swayed forward, pressed her lips to his. Hmmmm … he tasted like wine and strawberries. Hope slid her tongue along his lower lip and then eased back, smiling at him. “What did you want to ask?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Still holding her
hand, he rubbed his thumb along the back of it—pushed something … oh, hell.

Hope froze. Looked down.

Her eyes widened as she watched Remy push a golden band, set with diamonds and an emerald, onto her left hand. Her ring finger. Oh. Oh, man. Her heart banged against her ribs.

“Will you marry me?”

I can’t cope, Law. Not right now. Not yet … I can’t. Because I don’t think Joe Carson is the one who killed my cousin
.

Nia Hollister’s words echoed through his mind and although he tried to tell himself to be calm, he was having a hard time of it. She knew. Somehow she knew.

“That fucking
bitch
.”

He moved through the woods easily, moving on autopilot. He’d been here so many times, roamed these paths for so many years. They were like home to him.

It freed his mind to think—to brood. To fume. How? Shit. How did she know? He hadn’t left any clues for anybody to figure it out—he knew he hadn’t because if he had, the cops would already be all over his damn ass.

So how did
she
know? Bitch. Fucking bitch.

He wanted her dead—that’s what he wanted.

But he knew better than to act rashly.

Couldn’t do that. He’d done that before and it had brought hell down on him. Leaving Hollister’s cousin here
—that
had been rash, although it had seemed to be a clever move at the time, a move that would solve his problems. He’d been arrogant, foolish, and it had damn near ended everything.

He hadn’t been as careful as he needed to be in Chicago, either. Hadn’t been careful with Mara.

Too many mistakes—and all it took was one for him to be caught.

Couldn’t afford to screw up now. Not with her.
Fuck
. Careful—he’d be careful now if it killed him. Still … he had to watch her. Had to figure out his next move.

And he couldn’t do that without knowing her. Always wise to know his prey. Always wise.

He needed her gone.

More than anything, he needed her gone and perhaps, if he could get to know his prey well enough, he could figure out a way to make that happen that wouldn’t involve killing her, hurting her … anything that might spin things back around so that they took a closer look at her cousin’s murder.

Something.

Anything.

Know your prey … always good advice.

Her soft, golden skin had a grayish undertone and her eyes glittered hard as glass as she stared at him—waiting, Law realized.

Waiting for him to either dismiss her or brush her fears aside.

He hid a cynical smile. If she knew him at all, she wouldn’t look so worried—Law thrived on conspiracy theories, paranoid crap. What she was thinking didn’t even come close to some of his crazier ideas.

She looked ready to break, he thought. It did the damnedest thing to his heart.

“If you’re expecting me to look shocked or something, sweetheart, I’m going to disappoint you,” he finally said. “Carson was a first-class bastard, but that doesn’t mean I’ll buy whatever story I’m handed by the police.”

Startled, Nia blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not saying I don’t believe he didn’t do it, but that doesn’t mean I won’t rule out other stuff, either.” He rotated his neck, grimacing as it popped. Absently, he reached up and rubbed at muscles gone tight.
“There wasn’t any reason for him to hurt your cousin, Nia. Joe was a sick son of a bitch, but he had a method to his madness and I’m not seeing a method here. So while that doesn’t mean I can’t see it happening the way the sheriff’s office says it happened … well, the same goes for the opposite.”

Nia scowled. “That’s about as vague as you can get. You like sitting on fences, Law?”

“No. I like being objective. I like proof. And yeah, they might have proof against Joseph Carson, but they didn’t know him.” He looked at her, felt the hate and rage tear through his heart, through his gut and soul, hoped it didn’t show on his face. “I did. He was capable of all kinds of madness and cruelty and brutality like you can’t imagine. But it was never random—your cousin was random. That doesn’t fit the man I knew. Since the pieces don’t fit, I don’t believe in closing my mind to other options. This could mean there’s still a killer out there.”

“So … you don’t think I’m crazy. Overreacting?”

Reaching up, he cupped Nia’s cheek. “I think you’re listening to your gut. People don’t always do that enough.” Then he stroked his thumb over her lip and added, “But do me a favor … don’t go striking off on your own with a gun again. Especially an unregistered one.”

Nia flushed, the mellow golden skin of her cheeks going pink. “I wasn’t thinking then. At least not clearly.”

“Speaking hypothetically—say you’re right, and the killer is still out there. You think you’ll be thinking clearly if you happen upon a roadmap and evidence that points the way to him?” Law asked sardonically. He shook his head. “If there
is
somebody else out there, he’s dangerous, dangerous in a way Joe Carson never could be, because this guy is a thinker—a predator. Chances are he’s from around here, and he’s watching everything you do.”

Those words left her shivering.

Nia swallowed and looked away, tried to pretend she wasn’t terrified.

It wasn’t happening.

“Fuck.” She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth. “Okay, now I really need a cigarette.”

Yeah, she’d figured the killer was local, figured he would take note of her. But for reasons she couldn’t entirely think about, she hadn’t thought so far ahead as to think about whether or not he’d be
watching
her.

Was he?

Had he been?

A tremor wracked her body, and a second later, Law’s arms came around her. One hand stroked the back of her neck, a light soothing touch. The other rubbed along her spine, steady and strong, warming her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed and scowled, feeling very much the fool. “Just feeling a little freaked by that idea—freaked and foolish. I mean, I figured he was local, figured he’d know who I was, might see me. Why didn’t I go beyond that?”

“Maybe because it would have made it too easy to talk yourself out of this,” he offered. Then he tipped her chin up, stared into her eyes. “And you need to be here, I think. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be.”

“Yeah.” Nodding, Nia closed her eyes, then leaned back in and snuggled close. “I do.”

“The mind has a way of protecting us—we see what we need to see and when we’re ready for more, we get more. You weren’t ready to think that next step, so your mind just processed what you were ready to deal with.”

Despite herself, she smirked.

“You know, I’ve never once asked you what you do for a living,” she murmured. “What are you, a shrink?”

“Shit, no.” He barked out a laugh. “Absolutely no.”

He considered telling her, then ruled it out. Not yet. “You know … I could tell you, but well … I only tell women once I’m sure it’s moved beyond the flinging stage.”

She laughed weakly. “Okay, then. I’ll keep that in mind.” She pushed against his arms. “I need a cigarette, Law. Bad.”

“I’ve got a better idea …” He dipped his head and covered her mouth with his. “You just need something else to think about. I’ll give you something …”

L
AW ACTUALLY WORKED MUCH BETTER THAN A CIGARETTE
, for the most part, she decided. Although she did slip out eventually to catch one on the porch. He sat on the porch swing, wearing nothing but low-riding jeans and making her think dark and delicious thoughts—
much
better than a cigarette, even if she was craving the nicotine.

Damn it. Okay, it really was time to start thinking about quitting …

She spent a couple of hours with him curled up on the couch, watching a bad movie, using up the last condom, and just before she could consider having a polite little tantrum, Law saved the day by disappearing down the hall to his bedroom. When he returned, he had another box of rubbers, unopened.

It was edging up on six and she was thinking about test-driving the new supply when she heard an engine.

Puzzled, she looked at Law, but the expression on his face was one of resignation.

“You expecting company?”

“No.” He glanced at her. “It’s Hope.”

She saw the nerves in his eyes, the worry. Reaching
out, she laid a hand on his arm. “I can go.” She wasn’t sure what sort of relationship they had—especially after seeing Hope with the guy that morning, but she knew there was a deep connection between Law and Hope.

Law pressed his mouth to her forehead, then, quick as a wish, he stood up. “You’re not leaving,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“I’m not, huh?” She stood up and sauntered after him.

“No.” Pausing in the doorway, he turned and bent down, brushed his mouth against hers, a long, lingering kiss. “At least I hope you’re not. If you plan on hanging around town … well, Hope’s a friend—one of my best, and …”

It was sweet, she realized. He looked uncomfortable, like he was fighting for the words. But she understood. He didn’t want them at odds. It was weird, it was awkward as hell, considering she already knew Hope Carson had about as much use for her as she’d have for a scorching case of herpes.

But Hope mattered to him, and because he seemed to want Nia to matter, he wanted them to at least not dislike each other.

She wondered how many guys would care.

Sighing, she skimmed a hand back through his hair and pressed her brow to his. “Mind if I at least put some jeans on?”

“Actually, yeah. It’s almost a crime to cover that ass of yours.” He cupped her butt in his hands and squeezed. “But I can see why that might make you more comfortable.”

Smirking, she eased away and had just barely managed to get the jeans in her hands before the door opened.

The awkward smile she had plastered on her face froze.

Hope wasn’t alone.

Law sauntered into the foyer, caught sight of the other man and promptly placed his body in front of Nia. “Hell, Hope, if you were bringing him, you coulda warned me,” he drawled.

Hope pursed her lips as she peered around Law, watching as Nia struggled into her jeans.

Her fingers suddenly felt a lot more awkward, fumbling with the zipper, the button. She was acutely aware of the bra she wasn’t wearing, of her rather disheveled hair.

But she knew how to brazen her way through anything. Almost anything.

Moving out from behind Law, she tucked her hands into her pockets and smiled at Hope. It felt fake as hell, but at least she wasn’t holding a gun—that was an improvement over the last time she’d been in the house with this lady, right?

“Hello, again, Ms. Carson.”

“Ah … maybe you should call me Hope.” She pressed her lips together, a smile tugging at the corners as she looked from Law to Nia. “I … well, I guess that’s your bike out front. I didn’t recognize it. I’m not too good at that sort of thing.”

“Yeah.” Nia fought the urge to hunch her shoulders. Damn it, she wasn’t going to feel uncomfortable here—Law wanted her here, right? If he didn’t, he would have made that clear.

An awkward silence stretched out. Nia shuffled her feet and was just about ready to tell Law she’d call him—come back later,
something
, and then Hope reached up, tucking her hair back.

Nia noticed something.

Something glittery, bright and gold.