Ties That Bind (16 page)

Wearily, she glanced to the side of the room. “I have to use the bathroom. “ Because she was woozy, she hadn’t wanted to get up without him there. Slowly, she eased her legs off the bed, set them on the floor and stood. Dizziness struck her like a lightning bolt, and she started to sway. He caught her before she dropped and her entire body sagged into his. His hand slid around her and rested just below her unfettered breast. Though the contact was intimate, his strong fingers clutching her felt safe and solid. She leaned into him as he got her to the bathroom.

He asked, “Can you manage by yourself? Or should I help?”

She looked up at him. There was a twinkle in his green eyes, so like the boy she used to know, her own eyes misted. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

He was at the door when she came out with a freshly washed face, brushed teeth and combed hair.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“That I look like somebody used me as a punching bag.”

“It’ll be better tomorrow.”

Though she was more steady, he took her arm and guided her back to the bed. When she was settled, he picked up his drink and turned to the TV. “New York Law is on,” he told her, smiling. The long-running legal drama was something they’d enjoyed watching years ago, if only to mock some of its lack of realism.

Remote in hand, she switched the channel, just in time to hear the familiar refrain of the opening.

“Stay. Watch the show with me.” She bit her lip. “Just for a while.”

“Sure, if you want me to.” Reese glanced from the couch to the bed. Since the couch was out of viewing range, he nodded to the other side of the mattress. “May I?”

“Yes, of course.” Her pulse began to quicken.

It beat faster when he kicked off his shoes, rolled up his sleeves, and made himself comfortable; he dropped onto the bed, his weight heavy on the other side, so familiar yet so strange.

And, like the “old married couple” they used to be, they watched the show, in bed at ten o’clock at night, bemoaning some of the protocol and rolling their eyes at the histrionics of the characters.

Kate was amazed, after all that happened, how it could feel so right to be with him like this again.

o0o

HE SHOULD GO home, he thought, watching her sleep. She’d dozed off right at the end of the show, and he’d eased her down onto her side. Stretched out on the bed, watching her, he marveled at the turn of events in their lives. After all the animosity, after all the bitter words and accusations, they came together when things got tough, and she let him take care of her when she was hurt.

From his vantage point, he studied her room. More white—a painted oak headboard and built-in dressers to match. White walls with peach accenting framed pictures. At least the carpet had some blue in it. Again, he thought of the farmhouse. Their bedroom was filled with real wood, skylights and a jungleful of live plants.

Turning to his side, his head propped up in his hand, he watched her chest rise and fall. Her unbound breasts swelled against the cotton. He’d forced her to take pain medication at the last commercial and it had kicked in. From where he lay, he could smell the scent of soap and the perfume that clung to her pillows. Reaching out, he tucked heavy hair behind her ear, stealing a touch—just a brush of his knuckles down her cheek where it wasn’t injured. The bruises there and on her forehead were nasty. They would still look bad tomorrow. He wondered if she’d want to go to work. If she was still his, he’d insist she stay at home. They’d fight about it, but those were arguments he would always win.

Groaning at the memories that had haunted him all night, he turned over on his back and linked his hands behind his neck on the pillow. What the hell was happening to them? He was beginning to feel the pain over losing her again. He’d been afraid that this would happen. Dreaded it, actually. But he hadn’t been able to prevent it. They’d only been together eleven days and already he ached for his ex-wife and what they had had together.

He should leave. But he hesitated to do so, since she’d been so weak.

Poor excuse, Bishop.

Okay, hell, he wanted to stay a little longer. The eleven o’clock news was on and he tried to tune it in.

The next thing he knew, Kate was screaming. He woke up to the jolt of the terrified shouts. “No, no…get away…Reese, help…”

“I’m here, Katie.” He bundled her up in his arms. “Sweetheart, shh, it’s just a bad dream.”

“No, no.” She buried her face in his chest.

“It’s over. Shh…”

She inched in even closer; then gradually she calmed. “Oh, Lord.” In the glow from the TV, which was still on, she gripped his shirt. “Don’t go.”

He kissed her hair. “No, I won’t. But you’re safe. You’re fine.”

She slumped into him, and he brought her gently back to the pillows. His head rested right next to hers and they lay together, the darkness broken by the eerie light of the TV, and the silence interrupted by the set’s low din.

In minutes, she turned in his arms, fitted her back to his chest and her backside to his groin. They used to sleep in this spoon-like position, every single night until the end. Her curves aligned him, and her womanly scent rose up to meet his nostrils. The proximity made him hard, but also, caused an ache in his chest that might be mistaken for a heart attack. Still he didn’t move, and like he promised, he didn’t leave, either.

o0o

AT SEVEN A.M., when Tyler drove down Kaitlyn’s street and caught sight of Bishop’s car in her driveway, he felt a clutch in his chest. She hadn’t called last night, and he’d decided to stop over before he went to the office. He glanced at the Starbucks coffee on the floor of his SUV. He hadn’t brought enough for three.

Pulling over to the curb a short distance from the driveway, he hit the steering wheel with his fist. Damn it. Despite the worry he’d voiced with Dray last night, he didn’t really believe Kaitlyn would betray him. He thought they’d at least hash out any feelings she had for her ex before they ditched an eighteen-month-old relationship, one that had gone along just fine until Anna Bingham’s death. He cursed like a sailor, then lay his head back on the leather seat of his Blazer. Should he leave? Barge in? Hell, this was like a bad movie. But he’d be damned if he’d just turn tail and run.

He whipped out his cell and dialed Dray’s number, faintly surprised he remembered it. She answered on the first ring. “Hello.”

“It’s Tyler.”

“Oh. I thought maybe…”

“It was Reese? I know he didn’t come home last night.”

“You know? How?”

“I stopped to see Kaitlyn on my way to work. His yellow Mustang is in the driveway as we speak.”

A quick intake of breath. “Oh, no.”

“I’m on the road now, but I’m going inside.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Do you think I should?”

Muffled sounds.

“Aw, Dray, are you crying?” Bishop was such a bastard.

“I’m all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” She waited. “Maybe it’s not what it looks like.”

“Maybe.” But he didn’t think so.

“What will you do?”

“Go inside and see what the situation is. I’m tired of letting them call all the shots.”

“Be careful, Tyler. It could backfire.”

“I don’t care. She gave me a goddamned key. I have rights.”

“Of course you do.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.” She waited. “Tyler, I’m sorry, too.”

Squelching his doubts, he pulled the truck into Kate’s driveway, threw open the door, and stalked up the sidewalk to the stoop. He should ring the bell, he knew, but hell, he was working himself up into a fine fit and didn’t stop to consider his actions. Instead he let himself in.

The house was quiet, except for the refrigerator turning on, the faint sound of an ice machine. Drawing in a heavy breath, he glanced upstairs. Should he go up? What if he found…Fuck it! He took the steps two at a time. Stared down the corridor to her bedroom. The door was open, so he strode to the archway.

He didn’t know exactly what he expected, but it wasn’t this.

They were indeed on the bed together. Kaitlyn was dressed in pajamas and Bishop was fully clothed. She was under the covers and he was on top of them. But they were entwined in a way that made Tyler’s throat feel like a sock was stuffed in it. The fact that Kaitlyn liked her space in bed when Tyler stayed with her, and never once had they cuddled through the night together, made his stomach roil. He leaned against the doorway.

And watched Bishop rouse. Maybe Tyler had moaned and awakened him.

His arms tight around Kaitlyn’s waist, Bishop lifted his head off the one pillow they shared, glanced down at her, then looked up right into Tyler’s eyes. “Oh, shit,” he said, but softly.

Kaitlyn stirred and nestled in closer.

Tyler saw red. “Get out of her bed.”

Bishop’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on, it’s not what it looks like. And be quiet, she needs her sleep. She had a rough night.” Lithely, Reese disentangled himself and slid off the mattress. He looked rumpled, tired and grungy. “It’s not what you think,” he repeated. But there was an undertone in his voice, something resembling smugness.

Tyler came into the room and crossed over to them. “Oh, my God, what happened?” He gaze flew to Reese. “Who the hell did this? You wouldn’t…”

The guy recoiled with a stunned look. “Like hell I would. Or ever did.” He angled his head to the door. “Out there.”

Both men left the room.

Stomped downstairs.

And squared off in the foyer. Tyler clenched his fists in an effort to control himself. He was a healer, had taken an oath never to harm a human being, but God help him, he wanted to beat the shit out of this guy.

“Kate was attacked last night in the parking garage of the courthouse. A mugger, we think.”

“Jesus Christ. What happened?”

“Somebody came up behind her, pushed her against the car.”

“Did they get him?”

“No. He ran when the security guard came on the scene.”

“Did they call the cops?” His brow furrowed. “And how the hell did you get involved? She called you and not me?”

“She was phoning me when he attacked her. To tell me she was running late.”

Oh, well, that was better.

“The police arrived just before I did.” Bishop ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m going to make some coffee and we can finish this discussion when I’m not so fuzzy.”

Tyler stared at him, then headed for the kitchen. “I’ll do it.”

They talked about the attack while the coffee brewed. Tyler leaned up against a counter, arms folded over his chest, and Bishop dropped down in a chair. “What do the cops think?” Tyler asked.

“Could be your run-of-the-mill mugger. Could be somebody who has a grudge against Judge Renado.”

“That happened to Jillian.”

“I know. But I have another theory.” He glanced at the pot, got up, fixed his coffee and sat back down. The strong scent filled the air; Tyler poured a mug for himself and joined Reese.

“What other theory?”

“Maybe the assault was related to this case.”

“The Bingham case? Man, this just keeps getting worse.”

“It’s hard not to see it that way. Too many coincidences. Bingham’s note is false, Sloan, I swear. So that means someone’s lying. If so, then our investigation into her death wouldn’t sit right with them.”

“Someone who what? Faked the note? Killed Bingham? Christ, Bishop, do you know how far-fetched it sounds?”

“Then you think this is all a coincidence?”

“It could be.”

“That’s naїve. And I’m not willing to risk Kate’s wellbeing because of your Pollyanna view. “

“You’re not willing to risk it? Since when did you get rights back with Kaitlyn?”

“Since we were thrown together into this thing! Don’t get your jocks in a twist, Sloan.”

Tyler slammed his coffee cup down on the table. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. I walk in here and find you groping the hell out of the woman I love, and I shouldn’t be upset?”

“I was not groping.”

“Why the hell did you stay all night?”

Bishop looked away. Meaningfully, as if deciding what to say. “I, um, was worried about her. When I brought her home from the courthouse, she was shaky. I fixed her soup, made her eat, got her settled.”

“Got her settled?”

“In bed. Nothing untoward happened. She was scared, couldn’t calm down, so I hung around. I was going to leave when she fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“She had a nightmare, and woke up screaming.”

“So you took advantage of her and stayed.”

Bishop let out a disgusted sound. “No. I didn’t take advantage.”

“You son of a bitch. I don’t believe you.”

Kaitlyn’s ex leaned forward. “I didn’t. She asked me not to leave.”

His anger deflating at those words, Tyler sat back in his chair. “Shit.”

Bishop sipped his coffee.

Over the rim of his own mug, Tyler watched him. Then, very quietly he said, “You can’t have her back, Bishop. I won’t let her go. “

The other man watched him with a lawyer’s blank expression. Then, he pushed back the chair, stood, and walked out of the room. Tyler heard noise in the living room, the front door open and close. He sat in the kitchen, alone, pondering the notion that Reese Bishop hadn’t denied that he intended to take his wife back.

o0o

REESE LOOKED LIKE he’d spent the night in another woman’s bed. Dray would have thought that, even if Tyler hadn’t called her. She wondered if he enjoyed himself. Right now, he’d come to the doorway of the kitchen and found her there. Without preamble, he said, “I can explain.”

Holding a cup in one hand, and her arm around the waist of her terry robe, she said, “Why don’t you do that, Reese? Explain it all to me; make it clear why you spent the night with your ex-wife.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“Oh, excuse me if I have some qualms about why the man I’ve lived with for two years didn’t come home last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” He crossed to the coffeepot, poured a cup for himself, and sipped from it. Even in wrinkled clothes and a heavy beard he looked good. She wondered if Kate had thought that when she saw him this morning.