Ties That Bind (15 page)

“I think I should.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “You want to, don’t you?”

“Tyler, I can’t answer that because you’ll take it wrong.”

“Don’t play lawyer with me.” He shook his head, ran a hand through his wheat-colored hair. “I was always afraid of this.”

“There is no this.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Katie.” The name only Reese called her. “Then one of us will believe it.”

Turning abruptly, he stalked out of the office. Before the door could close, Portia was there. “It’s time to go, Judge Renado.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s going to be a tough afternoon.”

Which would only match the rotten morning that she’d had. Crossing to her closet, she removed her robe and slipped into it, seeking refuge in being Judge Renado, hoping it would take her mind off her problems.

It always had.

o0o

DISTRACTED, KATE LOCKED her office and headed for the elevator. Juggling her briefcase, carrying a light raincoat and a stack of books, she played back the scene in the courtroom today. God, she hoped she’d made the right decision. The attorneys had been surprised, which always made her wonder if she was on target.

As she rode the elevator to the ground level, she reviewed her findings: She’d assigned probation to the young mother, supervision by Child Welfare for two years, counseling for the whole family and two follow up sessions with Kate, one in six months, another in nine, to make sure things were going in the right direction. It seemed to her everybody had suffered enough, though she’d take some knocks for being too lenient with her decision.

At ground level, the elevator pinged open and she made her way to her reserved parking space, her heels clicking on the cement floor. It was almost eight and she was going to be late getting to Reese’s office. As she headed for her red Eclipse, she whipped out her cell to call him.

It was darker than usual in the parking garage. Mist had covered the city all day and it had crept into the cinderblock structure, making the air heavy and intensifying the oil and gasoline odor. She punched in her speed dial, regretting that Reese had claimed a spot on her phone again, and in her life. Tyler would be upset by that. Poor Tyler. He’d been angry about Reese since Anna Bingham had died. He was insecure, and though she felt bad about it, truthfully, she was getting tired of reassuring him. Her life was a mess and he needed…

A low, husky voice on the other end of the cell interrupted her thoughts. “Reese Bishop.”

“Hi, it’s me. Kate. I just left the office and am in the parking garage. I should be there in…Oh, my God, what…Reese, help!”

The phone flew out of her hand as Kate was shoved up against her car.

“Shut up and don’t say nothing, lady.”

The man smashed her face into the window, and vicious pain shot through her body; she whimpered when he jerked her arm up behind her. She managed to get out, “I have money in my purse. You can have it all…”

Again, he rammed her into the car, and said in a gravelly voice, “Don’t want no…”

Feet clattered on the pavement. “Judge Renado, is that you? Are you—”

Suddenly Kate was released; she slid to the cement floor, her knees scraping the rough surface. Her vision blurred and her head pounded.

The voice of the security guard…“Judge, are you…shit, you’re hurt.”

It took her a minute to respond. She looked up into the craggy face of the guard she spoke to almost every day. “I’m okay, John. Thanks to you.”

Slumping, she leaned against the car, swallowed back pain-induced nausea, and tried to gather her wits. “Did you see who it was?”

“Big guy, dressed in black. Couldn’t see if he had a weapon.” John studied her as he picked up her cell phone. “You should go to the hospital.”

Sirens sounded outside. “Let’s see what the police and the medics say. The person I was calling must have contacted them.” She gripped his arm. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. This kind of thing doesn’t happen much, but women have to watch out down here.”

She closed her eyes as she heard a siren get louder and then a car screech to a halt a few yards away.

Kate thought, What next?

o0o

“WHAT INGREDIENTS DID you put in this?” Dray stood over Tyler’s counter and tasted the marinara sauce. “It’s delicious.”

Tyler answered from the other side of the room. “Just spices Kaitlyn uses—oregano, garlic powder, parsley. And pepperoni. Most people don’t put that in sauce, but her mother…” He trailed off. “Shit.”

Dray turned and picked up her glass of wine. She leaned against the counter and watched him. His face had darkened. “We have to handle this right, Tyler.”

He sighed and sipped his Merlot. “I’m blowing it. I got furious at her today.”

“That won’t help.”

“What did you say to Reese when he called?”

“I kept my temper. But I told him I didn’t like his spending so much time with Kate. Again.”

“What did he say?”

“That he didn’t need to be hounded about this. He was doing the best he could.”

Tyler ran a frustrated hand through his thick hair. It was a bit long, and curly. “Do you think that’s true?”

“I’m not sure. I afraid they’re using this Bingham thing as an excuse to be together.”

“At least Reese is.”

That irritated her, but she spoke calmly because she liked Tyler and he was obviously upset. “I think that’s a little unfair, Tyler. Kate’s as much to blame as Reese is.”

Tyler sighed. “You know what? We need to get a life.”

She laughed. “You know what? You’re right.”

“How about we eat and go to a movie? Kaitlyn never has time to do that.”

“Sounds good to me. What do you like?”

Crossing to the sink, he ran water into a big ceramic pot and when it was filled, he went to the stove, set it on a burner and adjusted the temperature. “All kinds of movies. How about you?”

“Romantic comedies are my favorite.”

“Yeah? Kaitlyn hates those.”

“So does Reese.”

“I’d go see that new one about the girl who hires the escort for her sister’s wedding. The writer’s from my hometown.”

She smiled over at him. “On one condition.”

Cocking his head, he arched a brow at her. “What?”

“We don’t talk about Reese and Kate. I’m sick of moping about them. It makes me feel like such a loser.”

He frowned. “Should I not have called you?”

“No, no, I’m glad you did. I’m only tired of commiserating. Let’s really do something shocking and have some fun together.”

“It’s a deal.” He nodded toward the other side of the room. “Now make the salad.”

Dray went to the refrigerator and opened it, but glanced over at Tyler. “You’re a nice guy, you know that, Dr. Sloan?”

His grin was stellar. “Aw, that’s what all the girls say. How about sexy, mysterious and exciting?”

“I imagine you’re all that, too.”

He chuckled, she laughed, and the evening seemed a bit brighter.

o0o

“KEEP THAT ON your face, Kate. “ Reese nodded to the ice pack she held in her hand. “It’ll reduce the swelling.”

Heeding his directive, she lay back onto the cushions of her soft leather couch, and adjusted the compress on her face. She glanced down at her clothing. “I loved this suit.”

Watching her from his stance by the sidebar, he shook his head. She was something else. Though she was pretending to be calm, he could see through the bravado. When he arrived at the parking garage, she’d been trembling and still shaky. The police and medics had already gotten to the scene, so all Reese could do was stand by and watch. His heart had rammed against his rib cage when, as they spoke on the phone, he’d realized something had happened to her and called 911. “I’m sorry about this. It was the last thing you needed.”

“Just my luck.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Maybe it wasn’t bad luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe it wasn’t a random mugging.”

“Well, the police said that was a possibility. Judges are sometimes targeted because of their unpopular decisions and I’ve made my share. One today, as a matter of fact.”

“I know. But I didn’t mean that it was court related.”

She watched him. “What are you getting at, Reese?”

“An alleged suicide, a false accusation and now an attack on one of the people involved? If you weren’t in the center of this, what would your sharp mind tell you?”

“Oh, God, do you think this is related to Anna Bingham?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know. I think it’s a possibility.”

As if dislodging the thought, she shook her head fast. “Jillian was stalked two years ago by someone she put in jail; he’d recently been released on probation.”

“I remember reading about that.”

“It happens all the time.”

He noticed her hands were shaking again, so he pushed away from the wall, crossed to her and sank down onto a couch cushion. She just sat there, a bump the size of a walnut on her forehead, her cheek badly bruised, her eyes wide with fear. He reached out and smoothed down hair that had gotten messed from her ordeal. “Look, I’m not saying I think this attack was definitely related. I’m just saying we shouldn’t ignore that possibility.”

She bit her lip. Kate was so rarely vulnerable, he was moved by this display. Picking up the hand that wasn’t bandaged, he squeezed it. “I’m sorry, Katie. I hope they’re not connected.”

She gripped his fingers. Her deep brown eyes misted. “I guess I’m scared now.” She leaned in. “Could you…could you hold me for a minute?”

His heart leaped into his throat. But as natural as summer rain, his arms circled her and drew her close; he felt her hands press into his back. He anchored his hand at her neck, and she tightened her grip. “Katie…”

She buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled the scent of him. As she did, Reese closed his eyes. He remembered the feel of her so well. Every angle and plane and curve. He remembered how he’d relished her scent. And when she hung on, when he drew her as close as they could get, he realized he was scared, too. But not just of what was happening with Anna Bingham, or whoever was in that parking garage. He was afraid because something was happening between him and his ex-wife. Try as he might, he could no longer deny that reality.

“IF YOU DON’T sit down on that bed and get undressed, I’m going to take your clothes off myself.”

Although the medics had given her pain medication, Kate’s bruised knees stung, her head still pounded a rapid tattoo in her brain, and the coppery taste of fear was still in her mouth. Yet she smiled at Reese’s command. “Back off, hotshot. I’ll do it.”

He stilled.

For a brief moment, she didn’t know why. Then she cringed at her use of the old nickname. “Sorry about that. A blast from the past. I’m not thinking clearly.”

He reached out and tousled her hair. “It’s all right, Katie. Our lives are so screwed up. Neither of us has it together.”

Things were way off track if she was allowing his touch. Reveling in it. The embrace downstairs had broken through some emotional dam and everything between her and Reese seemed to be flooding out.

He crossed to the bank of dressers on the side of her huge bedroom. “Where are your nighties?”

“You can get plain cotton pajamas out of the bottom drawer.” Her tone was dry. “Plain ones, Reese.”

He smirked. “Yeah, like you wear those.” Over his shoulder, he arched a brow. “At least you didn’t used to.”

Oh, Lord, he was flirting. She’d forgotten how attractive—and sexy—the playful side of him was. “I have some demure Victoria’s Secret pajamas I bought for comfort. Just get them, and leave so I can change.”

He crouched down and drew open a drawer. Taking his time, he sifted through the contents leisurely. Mesmerized, she could only stare at the sight of his big hand on lace and satin and silk. Finally, he picked out her favorite pj’s—white background, covered with hot pink hearts. At least they were modest. He stood and brought them to her. “Not your usual style, but they’re cute.”

She grasped the clothes, and looked up at him.

“You thinking what I am?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“About your favorite pastime?”

“I used to love prowling those stores, searching for just the right thing for my bride.”

God, she remembered—satiny tap pants and tops, eyelet nightgowns, indecent wisps of black lace. “You were so lascivious.” For a brief moment, she wondered if he bought lingerie for his own personal baby doll. The thought stung.

“Yeah, I was.” His level stare was meaningful. Finally he broke it and stepped back. “You have to eat. Still want Italian?”

Her hand went to her tummy. “No, please. I’m feeling sick.”

“From fear and the bumps on your head. We’ll forgo the Italian. Got any canned chicken soup and crackers?” What he used to feed her when she was first pregnant with Sofie.

“I think so. In the pantry. But really, I’m not all that hungry.”

“Doesn’t matter. Change, and I’ll bring fresh ice with me.”

“Always the boss.”

“Best you remember that.” He headed for the door.

Though she was sore all over, she managed to get into her pajamas while still on the bed and prop herself up with pillows. Picking up the remote, she turned the news on the TV. The routine actions helped her to block what had happened earlier in the dank garage. And what it all meant. She didn’t want to think about that now.

Thankfully, Reese returned soon. Carrying a tray with crackers, two bowls, milk for her and a scotch for him, he set the tray down on her lap, and took his meal off. Her stomach growled at the aroma of the hot broth. “Eat, and then put the ice pack back on those bruises.”

“Does it look bad?” Hating the quiver in her voice, she asked anyway.

He ran a finger down her cheek where it wasn’t bruised. “Not your usual gorgeous complexion, sweetheart.”

“I hope it’s better by tomorrow. All my reputation needs is for me to go into court looking like I went a few rounds with Mike Tyson.”

“If you use the ice, it’ll keep the swelling down. Now eat.”

He took a seat on the couch across from the bed, and ate while she managed to down the soup, nibble on salty crackers and drink the milk. When they were done, he cleaned things up then returned to the bedroom. “What else can I do?”