“The Mission Creek Police Department’s presence is certainly visible,” Tabitha commented as Jake pulled into her parking space.

With just a casual glance, Jake could see seven of his men. They watched every person coming and going. The three guarding the front entrance had a big job, controlling the crowd of reporters milling around, no doubt waiting for Tabitha. “That’s on purpose.”

“To scare Hines away?” she asked.

Jake switched off the engine. “That, plus we want to make it clear that he has no chance to get back in here and wreak more havoc if he does something to the hostages.”

“You can’t keep up this protection forever,” she said. “I’m sure it’s costing the taxpayers a bundle.”

“The taxpayers are who we’re protecting.” He handed her the keys. “We’ll keep it up at least until Hines is caught.”

“Which will be soon.”

Jake approved of her positive thinking. “God willing.”

As they entered the hospital, he paused to talk to the men stationed there. Tabitha hurried in, away from the cameras and microphones and questions shouted at her by the horde of media men and women.

When she disappeared, they turned their attention on Jake, but after telling them they’d have a full statement at the nine-o’clock press conference, he ignored them.

He didn’t catch up with Tabitha until he reached her office twenty minutes later. He was going over the day’s schedule with the men who had just arrived to relieve the night crew in the command center in Marie’s office when Tabitha walked through her door.

When the men he was talking to shifted their attention behind him, Jake turned around to find her headed out. “Where are you going?”

She stopped at the door to the hall, seeming surprised that he’d asked. “I always make rounds first thing in the morning.”

“Rounds? You’re not a doctor.”

She rolled her eyes. “I visit around the hospital. I like to keep in touch with my people, and patients.”

He checked his watch. “It’s Sunday and we have a press conference in half an hour.”

Her chin began a rebellious ascent. “Today, of all days, I need to check on my people. They see me every morning that I come to work. They’ll expect to see me today.”

He walked over to her. “Wait until after the press conference, and I’ll go with you.”

“After what’s happened, I need to talk to the employees, reassure the ones who are frightened. It’s important.”

“I know, and I agree. But I can’t go with you now. I have to talk to the men who are about to go off shift, and brief the ones taking over.”

“I don’t need you to go with me.”

“Please wait.” He was used to giving orders, not begging favors. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes. We need to go over what you’re going to say.”

“Well…” She took a deep breath. “I suppose there’s some paperwork I can see to.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

She seemed mollified but still annoyed at having her freedom curtailed. “You’re welcome.”

He watched her walk stiffly back into her office. He knew just how she felt, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed protection and he needed to see if any of her employees seemed a little too smug.

He turned back to his men. They watched him with knowing expressions.

“Have a good night’s sleep, Chief?” one of the younger, braver officers asked.

Jake growled as he returned. They couldn’t possibly know he had slept in Tabitha’s bed last night. What’s more, he didn’t want them to know. Ever.

“Go fishing in some other lake, Tyrrell. Now, where were we?”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jake opened the door to Tabitha’s office and was about to walk through when Marie’s office phone rang. Everyone in the room stopped and looked at the officer closest to it.

Tabitha’s wide eyes rose from her paperwork. “Do I answer it?”

Jake held up a hand. “Just a sec.”

Officer Pitner looked down at the display, then at Jake. “It says ‘Out of Area.’ Same area code as my mother-in-law. Houston.”

“Hines could certainly have driven that far. The ambulance was found in that direction.” Jake pointed at Dan Hammel, who’d already seated himself at the tape recorder. He switched it on. “All right, Miss Monroe. Answer it.”

Tabitha took several deep breaths, then picked up the phone on the third ring. “Tabitha Monroe. Can I help you? Yes, he is. Just a moment.” She punched a button, then looked at Jake. “It’s for you. Detective Bill Hackleman of the Houston Police Department.”

“Right.” Jake nodded at Hammel, who turned off the tape recorder. Then he turned his attention back to Tabitha. He certainly didn’t want her listening in on this conversation. “I’ll get it out here.”

“Okay.”

He waited until she’d hung up her phone, then stepped behind Marie’s desk. As he picked up the secretary’s phone, he blessed the fact that secretaries needed to know when their bosses were on another line. A light would come on if Tabitha picked up her phone.

“Jake White.”

“Hey, White. Got some interesting information for you.”

Jake sat in Marie’s chair and spun so his back was to his men. “What’d you find?”

“Seems Al Monroe had a penchant for abusing prisoners. In fact, that’s how he died. In the line of duty, my ass. A Mexicano he took a stick to still had a gun.”

Jake’s hand tightened on the receiver. Abusive police officers were all too often abusive husbands…and fathers. “Anything else?”

“That ain’t enough for the broad to hate cops?”

“Yeah, that’s enough.” More than enough. “Thanks, Hackleman. I owe you one.”

“All in a day’s work, my man.”

“Talk to you later.”

Jake stared at the receiver as he replaced it, suddenly depressed.

As a police officer, he knew that abuse of a child hurt so deeply, the wounds stayed fresh all their lives—rarely healing, rarely even scabbing over. It took an incredibly strong person to overcome such trauma enough to lead a halfway normal life, much less forgive the person who had inflicted the damage.

He already knew that Tabitha was an incredibly strong woman. Now he knew how strong.

Now he knew what he was up against.

 

The press conference was frustrating for everyone, since there was no information to give the media beyond the conclusion that the tire tracks found near the abandoned ambulance probably were made by Branson Hines’s vehicle. From there the trail went cold because the ambulance and tracks had been found scarcely half a mile from the Lone Star Highway, a two-lane paved road that headed east toward Corpus Christi.

The hour after the press conference, however, was very enlightening for Jake. At least on a personal level.

As he followed Tabitha around the hospital wards and service departments, he watched as she talked to her employees about what had happened and what was being done. Some of the hospital’s employees seemed afraid to be at work; others realized the danger was over, at least for now.

Tabitha was amazingly good at bolstering her employees’ courage. Somehow, she made each employee think his or her job was the most important in the hospital, made each employee believe that he or she was the most important employee—both to the hospital and to her. She made such a stirring speech to the kitchen crew, Jake was surprised they didn’t follow her out doing a goose step to the theme from General Hospital.

She was one of the most well respected and beloved administrators that he’d ever seen. He actually watched people’s faces light up when they saw her coming.

She knew personal details about every single one of them, asking this woman about her bursitis and that man about his grandchildren.

But it was all smoke and mirrors. He’d bet real money that not a single one of Tabitha’s employees knew that she loved cats, or that she could eat three slices of bacon and two eggs for breakfast but didn’t eat much dinner.

Tabitha gave the impression that she was close to everyone, but that was the same as being close to no one.

Jake knew. He was the same way.

He was popular with the guys on the Mission Creek police force. He went to the Saddlebag with them all the time, but he was always the designated driver. Jake didn’t drink beer or any other alcoholic beverage, because alcohol made you lose control. And losing control made you tell people things you’d rather they didn’t know.

He’d bet a year’s paycheck that Tabitha didn’t drink, either. As he’d learned today, she had much more to hide than he did.

As he pushed open the door to the almost-back-to-normal maternity ward—their last stop—Jake decided to test his theory. “I think I’ll cook a couple of steaks for us tonight. What kind of wine would you like to go with them?”

Tabitha’s nose wrinkled. “None for me, thank you. I don’t drink.”

He smiled grimly as he followed her in.

Two seeds in a pod.

 

“You okay?”

Tabitha opened her eyes and lifted her head from where she’d leaned it back against her chair. “Come in and talk to me. Please! I’m going crazy.”

Jake grinned as he entered her office. “And here I thought I was giving you space so you could get some work done.”

She gave him a twisted smile. “Like I can concentrate. I’m dreading Hines’s call so much, I nearly have a heart attack every time the phone rings.”

“Good thing you work in a hospital, then, isn’t it?” He sat in the chair across from her desk. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. That makes just three heart attacks this morning.”

Besides the call for Jake before the press conference, Marie had called to see if she needed to come in. Tabitha insisted she stay home. The other call had been from Crystal Bennett, Mission Creek Hospital’s fund-raiser. Crystal had gone out of town for the long weekend with her son and her new husband, Ace Carson.

“Thanks to you for telling the reporters not to call this number, and thanks to Congress for the Labor Day holiday.” She stood and twisted hard to realign her spine.

He winced at the distinct crack. “Ouch.”

“Feels good.” She twisted in the other direction. “You should try it.”

“Maybe later.”

She shrugged and wandered over to check the moisture level of her bonsai. “Are holidays bad for police departments?”

“Crime happens every single day of the week.”

“Surely—statistically speaking—some days are worse than others.”

“You mean like full moons?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Are they?”

He spread his hands. “I’ve never noticed a difference, but I’ve heard it’s true—statistically speaking.”

Satisfied her plants were as healthy as she could make them at the moment, Tabitha turned and leaned against the credenza. “Not into statistics, I take it.”

“Statistics are interesting, if you have the time. But statistics don’t get criminals off the street.”

“Well, they don’t actually put the handcuffs on the criminals, but they can help.”

“How?”

“If, like you said, crime is worse on full moons, the powers that be can schedule more people to work those days and nights. That would help get criminals off the streets, wouldn’t it? If there were more cops around when more criminals are active?”

“You’ve got me there.” He shook his head with a grin. “You’re a very smart lady, you know it?”

“Yes, I do.” She grinned playfully. “Helps keep the men away.”

His face turned thoughtful. “Is that how you do it? Out-smart them, so to speak?”

She went still, sensing a zinger. “I was teasing.”

“No, you weren’t.”

She started to argue, then decided not to waste the effort. For some reason, this man knew her almost better than she knew herself. “It’s as good a way as any.”

“Why do you want to? You’re thirty-five. Why aren’t you married by now, with two-point-seven kids?”

“Why aren’t you?” she shot back. “You can’t be much older than I am.”

“I’m married to my job.”

She shook her head. “That answer’s too pat, too much of a cliché. Clichés don’t fit you.”

He raised a dark brow. “I’m sorry if you don’t think so, but it’s true. I was…”

“You were what?” she asked when he trailed off with a frown.

He stood and headed for the door. “I have to check on my men.”

“Coward.”

He stopped at her muttered comment.

She went on. “You’re brave enough to stop a bullet for people you don’t know, but you’re not brave enough to share a little bit of your life with anyone.”

He turned slowly. “What was it you said about me yesterday? Something about a pot calling a kettle black?”

She shrugged. “Okay, we both have a problem with emotional intimacy. But I’d really like to know what makes a man like you into a cop.”

He studied her face, as if deciding on how much he could trust her.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t share my own secrets, and I don’t share other people’s, either.”

He strolled toward the chair he’d just vacated, but he didn’t sit down. “I’ll talk if you will.”

Tabitha chuckled.

“What?” he demanded.

“Sounds like a deal I would make.”

He smiled slyly. “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”

Her mouth twisted. “You first.”

“Uh-uh.” He leaned on the back of the chair. “I didn’t hear you agree to reciprocate.”

“Okay, I agree.” She sat back down in her own executive chair. No one had ever read her this well. It was very disconcerting. “You were about to tell me why you think you’re not a cliché.”

Jake sat down, too. “I was about to say that the reason I know I’m married to my job—whether or not that’s a cliché—is because I was married once.”

Tabitha blinked. “To a woman?”

“No, to a rattlesnake.” His smile turned wry. “Actually, sometimes I thought she was close kin to a rattlesnake.”

“Who was she? Tell me about her. I can’t picture you as a husband.”

“Neither could I. Neither could she, after about six months.” He settled deeper into the upholstered wing chair. “I told you, I’m married to my job. I was gone more than I was home. Sometimes I wasn’t able to call when I wasn’t coming home. I didn’t show up at the social events she organized. She was an attorney. Am ambitious attorney with an eye on a political career. That’s why she wanted me. She even told me once that a cop with an untarnished record—one with ambitions—looked good on her résumé. That’s all I was to her, in the end. A line on her résumé.”

“How long did it last?”

“Two years. I came home one night after three days on a stakeout. She’d moved out. I was served papers a few days later.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “That was eight years ago. I’m over it.”

She picked up a pencil and began tapping it absently on the desk, then she met his steady gaze. “Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you at least call when you couldn’t come home?”

“I told you, I’m married to—”

“Horsefeathers.” She pointed the pencil at him. “When men don’t call, it’s because they don’t think about it, or don’t want to. Either way, it’s a sure sign that they don’t care.”

He stared at her, hard.

She lowered the pencil. “What?”

He shook his head, as if clearing it. “You’re right. I don’t know if I ever really loved her.”

“Then why did you marry her?”

“Because she talked me into it. And she had a…”

“She had a what?” Tabitha prompted. “We’re sharing, remember?”

He took a deep breath. “She had a mole. A dark one, right beside her mouth. Like yours.”

Tabitha touched her mole. She hardly ever thought about it. “A mole?”

His gaze latched onto her fingers. “Yes.”

“You like moles?”

He chuckled, a tad nervously. “Yeah. I do.”

She jerked her hand away from her face. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Moles?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

She shifted in her chair. “You mean like a sexual thing?”

“More or less.” He dragged his gaze away from her mole and sighed. “Some men get turned on by women’s feet. Some like breasts, some like butts. And don’t get me wrong, I like those, too. But if a woman has a mole, it’s one of the first things I notice about her. Especially facial ones. Especially—” his voice lowered “—if they’re close to her mouth.”

Tabitha swallowed hard. Was it her imagination, or was she breathing a little harder than she had been? This was nuts. Was she actually getting turned on by hearing what turned him on? “I see.”

“I noticed yours the second I walked into the press conference yesterday.”

Her mole was itching now, being the center of attention. She forced herself not to touch it again. She cleared her throat. “So what you’re saying is you’re not attracted to me, particularly. You’re attracted to my mole.”

He smiled slowly. “That was yesterday.”

She frowned. “You’re not attracted to me today?”

His eyes shone with amusement. “I’m even more attracted to you today, because I’ve discovered there’s a brain underneath the mole.”

“You like smart women?”

“Especially if they have a mole.”

She glanced down and discovered she was pushing the pencil back and forth between her fingers. A sure sign of nerves. She stopped immediately. This was not what she had in mind when she’d asked him to talk.

“Most men…” She had to clear her throat again. “Most men don’t like women with brains.”

He shrugged. “Most men don’t have brains themselves.”

“True.”

“Your turn.”

“Me?”

“Yep. I shared, now you share. You agreed. No going back.”

Tabitha glanced at the door he’d left open. No one in the outer office was paying any attention to them. Darn it. “I…”

She didn’t know what to say. Because she’d been soured on men at an early age, she hadn’t paid much attention to them over the years. She’d concentrated on her career. She went out with a guy if he asked and she halfway liked him, if she thought she could stand him for an evening. But she’d never been attracted to one like this. So there was no pattern, no consistent trait that attracted her. She certainly didn’t have anything as good as a mole.

Wait a minute. That wasn’t the topic they’d started with.

Her lips curved in a pleased smile. “I’ve never been married.”

He grinned. “I wondered when you’d backtrack to that.”

She glared at him. “You got to start out easy.”

“I’m not complaining.” He laced his fingers behind his head. “Okay. Let’s go with this for the moment. You’ve never been married. Ever engaged?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She smirked. “Guess I’ve been married to my job.”

“Too pat. Try again. You’re smart and beautiful. Why haven’t you ever been in a serious relationship?”

“You didn’t ask that.”

“So now I’m asking.”

“Okay. I dated a guy in college halfway seriously. Lasted a whole semester.”

“What happened?”

“I decided he wasn’t the guy for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was like my—” Tabitha dropped her gaze. No, she couldn’t tell him about her father. Maybe the sexual innuendoes were easier. “Because he didn’t like my mole.”

Jake was silent so long Tabitha glanced up to find his green eyes concentrating on her. The heat coming from him wasn’t sexual, but was just as intense.

“He was stupid, then,” Jake said finally, softly. “Your mole takes my breath away.”

His statement surprised her. It took her breath away. “Thank you.”

“What about later?” he asked. “Why haven’t you been involved with anyone since?”

She straightened. “Hey, I didn’t ask you for a recital of all the women you’ve seen over the years.”

“No, you didn’t, did you? Okay. Now for part two.”

Tabitha groaned and hurried on, “After college, there was—”

“Why are you attracted to me?”

She stared at him. “What makes you—”

“Don’t try to deny it,” he said.

Her chin lifted. “I will if I want to.”

He chuckled at her defiance. “Do I have to close the door and prove it to you all over again?”

His low comment made her gaze flicker back to the door.

“They’re not paying any attention to us,” he said without looking.

“I know.” Even to her own ears, she sounded miserable. “Maybe if I got naked and started dancing on top of my desk—”

“Then I would have to close the door.”

“Why?” she couldn’t help but asking.

“Because, kitten.” He leaned closer. “I won’t share you with anyone.”

“Oh.”

“So…?”

“So?”

“Why are you attracted to me?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know. I don’t have a list like you do. I haven’t thought about it that much.”

“Surely you can come up with something.”

Since she couldn’t concentrate with his attention on her, she closed her eyes. But that should tell her something, shouldn’t it? She couldn’t concentrate during the times she felt most attracted to him, either. So was she attracted to him because he paid her attention?

No. Other men had paid her attention. She hadn’t been attracted to them.

But none of them had been so…aggressive about their attention.

Tabitha frowned. Aggression was the one thing she hated most. Surely she wasn’t attracted to Jake’s aggression.

“Thinking hurts, does it?”

She opened her eyes to his handsome, amused face.

No, she wasn’t attracted to his aggressiveness. Not exactly. It was more the fact that he was interested enough to be aggressive, but he controlled it. He controlled it with humor and intelligence and respect for her.

Suddenly an incredibly powerful wave of emotion swept over her, one she’d never felt. Tenderness and desire and pleasure and—

Oh, God. Was she in love with him?

“What the hell are you thinking?” he asked.

No. She wasn’t in love with him. Absolutely, unequivocally not.

She made her lips curve upward, hoping the attempted smile didn’t look as fake as it felt. “I like your sense of humor, and your ambition, and your—”

He slapped his hands on her desk, making her jump. “That’s not what you were thinking.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You can read minds now?”

“I can read yours.”

“All right, then, psychic Jake, tell me what I was thinking.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know the specifics, but I know I saw panic in your eyes not two seconds ago.”

The panic flooded back, and she stood up to hide it. Why did he have to be so darn perceptive? She couldn’t tell him about her momentary lapse, thinking she was in love with him. It wasn’t true.

Suddenly, strong hands landed on her shoulders and spun her around to face him.

“What is it?” He shook her shoulders, but not hard. “Tell me.”

She couldn’t tell him about thinking she was in love with him, but she could tell him about the other part. Abuse was enough to inspire panic in any woman. “I thought for just a second that I was attracted to your aggressiveness.”

He immediately released her shoulders. “My what?”

She put a hand on his chest to reassure him. “Then I realized I’m attracted to your controlled aggression.”

He frowned down at her. “I’ve never hit a woman in my life.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t say abusiveness. What I meant was…” She spread her hands. “I just now figured it out myself. My own surprise is what you saw in my face.”

He grabbed her hands. “Tell me what it is.”

Her gaze dropped to his broad chest. “I like the fact that you’re interested enough to be aggressive, but that you have enough control not to be abusive. Does that make any sense?”

He lifted her chin with one finger. “Perfect sense.”

She couldn’t drag her gaze away from his. His desire shone blatantly from his eyes, igniting her own. Her pulse began to race, making her skin tingle with anticipation of his touch, making her throb all over.

He grinned suddenly, with pleased self-satisfaction. “So you admit you’re attracted to me.”

He’d broken the spell with humor, in order to maintain control. He had the good sense to realize the door to her office was still open. The physical yearnings so new to her had made her forget all about it.

Grateful—and even more attracted to him—she rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

He chuckled. “Intelligent comment.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Is sexual desire intelligent? From what I’ve seen so far, all brain activity goes on hold.”

He ran a finger lightly over her mole, his voice lowering. “It does if you do it right.”

She shivered. “We’d better stop this.”

He muttered curses, then released a deep breath. “You’re right. This is not the time or place.”

His thumb lightly stroked the palm of her hand, then he stepped back. “Are you hungry?”

She blinked. “Hungry? Is it time for lunch already?”

He checked his watch. “Ten after twelve. I was going to send out—”

The phone beside them rang, startling them both.

Since Tabitha’s phone didn’t have a display, they turned as one toward the doorway.

A second later, Officer Pitner appeared in it. “Unknown name. Unknown caller.”

“Is Dan ready?”

Pitner glanced behind him, then nodded. “Ready to go.”

“Tell him to turn it on.” Jake faced Tabitha. “This could be Hines.”

She took a deep breath. “I know.”

“You ready?”

“I have to be, don’t I?”

Jake looked at Pitner, who nodded. “Anytime you’re ready.”

Tabitha took another breath, then stepped to her desk. Even though they’d had a number of false alarms that morning, she felt a certainty in her bones that this was the kidnapper.

She picked up the phone. “Tabitha Monroe. Can I help you?”

“Call the cops off or you’ll never see your friends again. Not alive.”

The line went dead.