Crime and Passion. Marie Ferrarella
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before she was suddenly thrust into his presence. Then at least she would have felt confident enough to put on a decent performance. One that would convince him that he hadn’t broken her heart in a million pieces.
But right now she had her son and her work and that was more than enough.
Except that now she didn’t have her work, Ilene reminded herself. Or possibly a future, either. She struggled against sinking into a pool of emotional quicksand.
Her hands tightened around her strap again as she deliberately addressed her words to the dark-haired man behind Clay. “Look, I’m sorry you were called out for nothing, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“I’m afraid you can’t do that,” Janelle protested.
Ilene looked at the other woman. She’d never been able to tolerate restrictions well. “Watch me.” But as she began to leave the room, it was Clay, not Janelle, who got in her way.
He was a cop first, he reminded himself. And the situation needed one. “Captain Reynolds doesn’t throw around the term ‘protection’ lightly. Now what’s this about?”
“Ms. O’Hara says that her boss is misrepresenting her company’s profits to the public,” Janelle said.
Her company.
It occurred to Clay that he didn’t even know where Ilene worked or what she even did for a living. They’d been involved while in college, when everything was promising and fresh, and paths hadn’t been laid down yet. He’d always felt she could be anything she wanted to be. After they’d split and she’d left town, he’d purposely tried not to keep tabs on her, knowing if he did, he might be tempted to do something stupid, like tell her what a fool he’d been to walk away from her.
He would have hurt her if he’d remained. He knew that just as surely as he knew his own name. But men like him didn’t marry, Clay reminded himself. They dallied and went on. His one true love was the force and always would be.
“You work for Simplicity Computers, right?” he heard Santini inquiring.
“Yes, I do,” Ilene replied tersely.
At least until they find out what I’ve done. And then she wouldn’t be working for anyone. There was money in the bank, but that would only last a little while. How was she going to provide for Alex then? Oh God, this was a huge mistake.
Santini gave a low whistle. “You’re kidding. I just bought one of those starter computers for my kid.”
“It’s not going to self-destruct,” Ilene told him, her eyes covertly shifting to Clay. Trying not to see how time had only made him better looking. “The problem isn’t with the product quality. It’s still the finest that money can buy,” she assured Santini. “That’s the problem.”
“How do you mean?” Clay asked.
“A great deal of money has gone into producing the best on the market and—” Ilene stopped abruptly. She couldn’t think about that. She’d made a mistake. A bad one. It had taken seeing Clay again to make her come to her senses. She needed to retreat. “Never mind. I just want to go home.” Wanting to flee, she reached for the folder she’d brought.
But Janelle picked it up, holding it to herself protectively. “You came here because you wanted to do the right thing. Don’t let anything change your mind.”
A civil war raged inside her. “All right,” Ilene surrendered, but only partially. “Keep the folder. I’ll be in touch.”
“Ms. O’Hara, I meant what I said about your needing protection. Fortunes are at stake here. Careers, not to mention jail sentences,” Janelle emphasized. “If your bosses suspect that you came here—”
“Then keep my name out of it,” Ilene said.
“Just because they’re busy trying to hoodwink the public doesn’t mean they’re oblivious to everything else,” Janelle cautioned her. She glanced toward Clay as if to garner his support, but he was silent. “If you’ve already brought this to your boss’s attention, he knows that you know and it won’t take a rocket scientist to make the connection.”
Ilene deliberately pushed the thought to the conclusion she thought the woman was trying to reach. “And when he does, he’ll do what? Kill me?”
“Maybe,” Clay interjected.
Ilene swung around. “He wouldn’t do that,” she insisted. “He coaches his son’s Little League.”
Clay laughed shortly. For all her worldly appearance, Ilene was apparently still naive. “Ever see how the parents can mix it up over an incorrect call?”
Ilene raised her chin in a way he was all too familiar with. It was part of her go-to-hell stance. He’d once found that adorable. Now he found it irritating.
“I’ll be fine,” she said tersely. “If I have police protection, then they might suspect something.”
“How will they know unless they’re staking out your place?” Clay posed.
The question stopped Ilene in her tracks for a second. She had no answer for that. No, they were trying to frighten her, she thought, trying to make sure she testified. Well, the files spoke for themselves, they didn’t need her.
Squaring her shoulders, she moved to open the door. Clay wrapped his hand around her wrist, gently holding her in place. She looked up, startled. But instead of detaining her, he turned her hand over and placed a small white card into her palm. She looked at him quizzically.
“We can’t force you to accept protection, but if anything goes wrong, call one of those numbers. The top one belongs to the precinct, the bottom one is my cell phone.”
She tried to give the card back to him. “I won’t be needing this.”
But Clay raised his hands before him, unwilling to take the business card back. “You never know.”
Her eyes met his for a long moment. “No,” she said significantly, “you never do.” And then she left the office.
Annoyed, frustrated and feeling a little as if a part of him had just been unceremoniously raked over hot coals, Clay shook his head.
“That has got to be the most stubborn woman I ever met. And considering present company,” he looked pointedly at Janelle, “that’s saying a hell of a lot. Do me a favor, Janelle, next time you have the urge to take out your bow and arrow and play Cupid—find another target.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I see is a woman who needs protecting. You’re the best man for the job, that’s all. You, too, Santini,” she added, looking at the other man.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m an afterthought here?” Santini looked at his partner. “You and the lady have a history I should know about?”
“No,” Clay said flatly. “If we’re done here, A.D.A, my partner here and I’d like to get back to work.”
Janelle spread her hands helplessly. “I’m afraid it looks like you’re done. For now.” She sat down behind her desk and began to go through the contents of the envelope again.
“Good. C’mon, Santini, let’s go.”
“You do have a history,” Santini insisted as he followed his partner through the door. “C’mon, Cavanaugh, you’re talking to a deprived man here. I’m withering on the vine. Give.”
Clay had absolutely no intentions of satisfying the man’s insatiable curiosity. “Shut up, Santini,” he grumbled as he lengthened his stride toward the elevator.
It took Ilene the entire drive home to calm down, to get her hands to remain steady on the steering wheel. After all this time, Clay still had an effect on her. Could still make her pulse dance just by being in the same room as her.
Except