Cavanaugh Judgment (19 page)

Greer took her cue and drove on. Parking the car in Blake’s driveway, she got out and waited for him to lead the way to the front door.

The noise coming from the house next door seemed to all but surround them now. Several people had spilled out of the house, clutching chunky glasses in their hands they would pause to sip from on a regular basis.

“Sure you don’t want Officer Hogan to talk to your neighbors about the noise level?” she asked, leaning into him so he could hear her without having to raise her voice. What she did manage to raise, though, was her body temperature. That seemed to be the case every time she was closer than skin to him. And it was only getting more pronounced with each time.

But Blake shook his head and stood by his decision. “It’s nice to hear some celebratory noise right about now,” he told her. He looked over the lawn to the next house. “I’ve half a mind to join them.”

As far as she could see, there was no reason not to if that was what he really wanted. “We could,” she told him.

“No,” he contradicted with a smile, “we couldn’t. I don’t even know what my neighbor looks like.” He’d been too busy, too caught up in trying to work as hard as he could to keep from thinking about Margaret, to meet any of his neighbors. “I wouldn’t presume to crash his party. Until this threat came along, I’d even forgotten there were sunrises and sunsets.”

Greer frowned, puzzled. In the background, one of the guests, a young teenage girl, shrieked with glee, then ran off, eluding the grasp of a teenage boy. “The threat did that for you?”

“No,” he answered quietly, his eyes on hers. “You did.”

“Oh, don’t sweet-talk me, Judge.” She was only half teasing. It was getting harder and harder to remind herself that this wasn’t going to go anywhere. That their relationship had no hope of surviving once this assignment ended. “It makes my insides all melty. I’m not much good to you with a melty center.”

Blake ran the back of his knuckles very slowly along her cheek, caressing her. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There’s something to be said for a woman who’s tough on the outside, tender on the inside.”

She grinned, doing her best to remain strong. “Funny, that same description could also be used to describe a steak.”

Blake laughed softly under his breath as he disarmed his security system long enough for them to enter. “My favorite meat,” he acknowledged.

Nothing she liked better than prime rib, nice and rare. “Mine, too.”

His smile was swiftly decimating her. “Something else we have in common.”

There was no point in tallying their similarities. It would only make the inevitable that much more difficult to bear when it happened. The only thing that mattered was that she continue doing her job, continue keeping Blake safe.

They were in the foyer and she needed to go through her routine, checking each room to make sure it was secure. Home security systems were all well and good, but even the finest system could be bypassed if the person attempting entry was clever enough.

“Stay right here,” she told him, nodding to where he stood, “while I check out the house and make sure that it’s secure.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little over the top?” he asked her.

“Why?” She saw no reason to change her methods of operation this late in the game. “It’s what I do every night when we come home from the courthouse. Things happen. Jeff said they were closing in on Munro and his people.” Her partner had given her an update when she’d called him about Alexander’s heart attack. “A man gets desperate at times like that. He must know that his number’s up and that he’s living on borrowed time. If he wants to hurt you, now would be the time to do it.”

“But there’s been a police patrol car across the street ever since we left for the hospital,” he pointed out.

It was true, but none of that mattered. “Lots of ways for a creative man to gain access. Don’t you know that every time they build a better mouse trap, someone builds an even better mouse?”

“Strictly speaking,” he corrected her with an indulgent smile, “mice aren’t built, they’re made.”

“Same difference,” she told him, undaunted. “Stay right here,” she repeated. “This isn’t going to take long.”

He had no intention of standing here in the foyer like some hapless silent movie heroine, waiting for Greer to sweep through the area and declare it safe. “Haven’t you learned yet that the fastest way to make me come with you is to tell me not to?”

The other times, he’d had his father to talk to when he’d come home. Now he had only his concerns to keep him company. “I’ll move faster if you’re not with me,” she told him.

He sighed, giving in. “All right, but hurry this along,” Blake urged her. “I have definite plans for tonight.”

She drew her weapon. “Work?”

“Only in the broadest sense of the definition,” he told her and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Actually, I’d say it was more along the lines of pleasure.”

The living room was clear. She moved on to the kitchen, crossing the floor in short, measured steps as she remained on high alert.

“Oh?” She spared one glance over her shoulder in his direction. “Would you care to be a little more specific than that?”

His eyes were laughing at her. He was obviously enjoying himself. “Not really.”

“Don’t want to share with the class?” she asked, amused. “What happened to ‘works well and plays well with others’?”

She heard him chuckle to himself. “Depends on who those ‘others’ are.”

She stopped abruptly and for a moment, Greer lowered her weapon, as well as her guard. “Me, Blake. Me.”

“I suppose I can arrange to give you a small, intimate preview,” he allowed. Moving the hand that was holding the gun aside, he took Greer into his arms.

No, she couldn’t allow herself to be sidetracked, Greer silently insisted. No matter how much she wanted to. “Judge—”

“Blake,” he corrected her, his voice low and seductive. Now that his father was out of danger, all he could think about was making love with Greer. All night long. “Don’t backslide on me now, Greer. You were doing so well.” His lips covered hers.

Her head was spinning and her pulse had already taken off. She could feel her body temperature rising. She struggled to hold desire back until she completed her check. With effort, she wedged her hands up against his chest and pushed him back.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she insisted.

“And yet, we are,” he told her.

And then he kissed her again and her resolve all but went up in smoke. She wanted nothing more than to spend the night in his arms, completely lost.

But her training, her dedication to the job, all but screamed for her not to be derelict in her duties. She couldn’t just throw caution to the wind, that wasn’t her, that wasn’t how she was wired. She was the one who had to put her life on the line for Blake. She was the one who very possibly stood between the man and a fatal bullet.

Damn it, she needed to stop thinking of herself, of the pleasure that he’d brought her in so many different ways. The only thing that was important was keeping him safe.

Time to start acting like the cop she was, she reminded herself.

For the second time, she put her hands on Blake’s chest and pushed hard. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do her job, with his lips on hers. She needed to pull back while she still could.

“Blake, please, I need to make sure the locks are all secure on the windows and that if someone tries to come in, the alarm will go off.”

The last thing on his mind were intruders. Blake shrugged away her suggestion. No one had tried to gain access to his house in the three-plus weeks she’d been here. There was no reason to think that tonight had been any different.

But he knew the futility of arguing with her. Sighing, he nodded, surrendering. “Do what you have to do.”

She let out a shaky breath. God, but that man could scramble her brain faster than anyone she’d ever known. “Glad you see things my way.”

He shrugged. As if there was a choice. “Is there any other way?”

“No,” she agreed, “but it’s nice to have you so agreeable.”

The family room was next. Wide open, she cleared it in a moment.

Someone shrieked next door. Greer’s head jerked in that direction, listening.

Was that good or bad? The noise, though muffled by concrete and wood, was swelling.

Again, she toyed with the idea of having the patrolmen ask the neighbors to keep it down to a friendly roar. All that noise was making her uneasy. Munro or anyone he sent in his place could easily use the party next door as cover. There were so many people there, it would be easy to just blend in and camouflage himself with the noise.

The thought made her more uneasy.

What if one of Munro’s henchmen had already done that? Had already blended in with the party guests just long enough to gain access to the neighbors’ backyard and then slipped inside Blake’s house? It wouldn’t be all that difficult do.

Her heart pounded as she examined the idea.

“Why don’t you put some champagne on ice?” she suggested just before she went to check the second floor.

Making her way up the stairs, Greer took out her cell phone. She had no idea why, but her gut kept telling her that something was off. Maybe the party next door was making her nervous, she wasn’t sure. But she knew she’d feel better if she had Carson around. Two sets of eyes were better than one.

Pressing the single key that connected her to her partner, she wound up listening to an answering machine. Damn, it was Saturday night. Why did she think Jeff was going to be home or somewhere where he could actually hear his phone when it rang?

Greer almost terminated the call, but then decided, since she’d called, she might as well leave a message. Otherwise, he’d quiz her about the aborted call and more likely than not, drive her crazy by putting his own less-than-upstanding spin on it.

“Jeff, this is Greer. Call me when you get this,” she told the answering machine. “I think I might need backup here. I’m at the judge’s house.”

Finished, she put the phone back into her pocket. Closing the door to the bathroom after a quick peek, she opened Blake’s bedroom door next.

And found herself staring down the barrel of a Glock.

“About time you got home, Cinderella.”

Her heart froze. Munro.

Chapter 15

“D
rop your gun,” Munro snarled as he raised his weapon, aiming it dead center at her heart.

Damn it, when was she going to learn to trust her gut? Greer admonished herself. She’d
sensed
that there was something wrong.

Adrenaline launched through her veins in double time. Rather than drop her gun, she mimicked his action and raised it so that, if fired, the bullet would create a hole in his chest.

“The way I see it,” she said to Munro, her voice deadly calm, “our guns cancel each other out.”

“Well, I don’t see it that way,” he snapped back. “Now drop your gun or my ‘associate’ in the next room drops your judge.”

It was a five-dollar word coming out of a two-bit mouth. Munro’s conceit was incredible. He actually thought he was going to get away with this, with killing a judge and a narcotic detective right under the noses of the Aurora police.

“You don’t have an ‘associate’ in the next room, Munro,” she said in the same calm voice, knowing it annoyed the hell out of the dealer. She knew he wanted her to cower, to show fear. “Nobody wants to ‘associate’ with a lowlife like you.”

Steely, lifeless brown eyes locked onto hers. She could feel her blood run cold. This was a man who could kill without the slightest qualm.

“They don’t, huh?” Munro taunted. “You confident enough to put that little theory of yours to the test, bitch?”

If this involved just her, she would have met what she felt was his bluff in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t just about her. Even if she hadn’t gotten so involved with Blake that he dominated her every waking thought, the man was first and foremost her responsibility and she couldn’t take a chance that this cocky little bastard
wasn’t
bluffing.

A malevolent smile curved his mouth. It was as if he was privy to her thought process. “Two seconds to make up your mind, bitch, and then that good judge of yours is history.”

In her experience there were criminals who had a small amount of redeeming qualities about them. Munro didn’t number among them.

“He’s history anyway,” she responded. The drug dealer had vowed to kill Kincannon. She had no reason to believe that Munro had changed his mind.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Munro allowed in a singsong voice, twisting his wrist and moving the plane of his gun—but not the barrel—as he spoke. “He cost me a lot of revenue when he cleaned up the streets, putting my regular customers behind bars. Maybe I’d be satisfied ransoming Kincannon back to the justice system that thinks so highly of him. We could call it ‘reparations.’” His small mouth curved further in an evil smile that all but froze her blood. “What do you think of that?”

Greer continued to hold her weapon trained on his chest. “What do I think? I think that you’re lying.”

“Not as dumb as you look,” he assessed, laughing to himself. It sounded a little like the sound a hyena made. “Still, I could use the money. Besides, the damn bastard’s hard to kill. I know. I’ve tried. Got his wife, but not him. Lucky son of a bitch,” he commented.

Her eyes widened. “You were the one who ran him off the road?”

He smirked at her naiveté. “Hey, I got people.”

What he meant, she realized, was that he had someone do his dirty work for him. “I forgot, you’re a big operator.”

The smile faded as if he understood she was being sarcastic. “Yeah, I am. Now put that damn thing down,” he ordered. A hint of the cold smile returned. “Or shoot me. The second you pull that trigger, there’ll be another shot and the judge’ll be dead. He doesn’t have a gun like you do,” he mocked her. “C’mon, Detective.” He tapped the watch on the wrist of his gun hand. “Tick-tock.”

Greer was torn. God help her, she couldn’t take a chance.

“All right,” she fairly shouted, raising her voice so that it would carry, either to Blake or the so-called other gunman in the house. “You win.” Moving in slow motion, she lowered her weapon and placed it on the floor before her.