Conflicting Interests (2 page)

The light on her answering machine that was just as old as
her cat was blinking.

“Trink, I think you should ask out the hot-butt parent. I’m
assuming he’s single, otherwise you would have acted normal. You only really
seem to act like a maniac when a man’s actually available. Anywho, love ya.
Margaritas at Cabos tomorrow night. Be there or be square, love!”
Beep.

Katrina crawled into bed with a glass of wine and a stack of
essays. She wasn’t going to let herself take even one sip until she was on the
last essay. That would be her reward…

* * * * *

When Katrina woke the next morning, there was a full glass
of red wine on her nightstand and three essays left to grade.
Damn. Should
have seen that one coming
.

The day was long. It was Friday. Fridays were always long
and as she sat at her desk during free writing time, she tried to grade the
rest of the essays. “Ms. Page?” The voice was quiet and when she looked up Seth
Adler was standing in front of her. She was suddenly hit with guilt as she took
in his sweet face. He had his father’s eyes and for whatever reason, she felt
as though every rude word she’d said to his father was spoken in front of him.
It wasn’t of course and he’d deserved it for sure. Beyond that, his father had
a steely hard demeanor that she’d failed to crack in any way whatsoever, so her
guilt didn’t make any sense but it was there nonetheless.

“Hey, Seth. What’s up?”

“My dad said I needed to talk to you about joining a study
group for reading during study hall?”

“Yeah. I’d love to have you in the group. I think it’ll really
help you with your studies but I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble with your
father. I certainly didn’t intend to. I just really think it would be a great
group for you.”

“Oh no. I’m not in trouble. He was glad you asked me to
join. He just wanted me to make sure I was there when I was supposed to be.”
Huh? And here she’d assumed Mr. Adler would put little stock in her group.

“Great. Third period, this room. We work on comprehension
exercises for the most part but we work in a group. So we may read individually
for a while but then we discuss and quiz each other over the material. It’s
more fun than it sounds, and I always have snacks to help you ruin your
appetite for lunch.” She smiled at Seth as his eyebrows shot up.

Her reading group was actually one of the highlights of her
day. It was a small group and it allowed them to work as a group and actually
have some fun with it at the same time. It didn’t mean she wasn’t ready to be
done with this Friday. She was more than ready for margaritas at Cabos with
Imogen.

The day inched along painfully slowly and when her cell rang
just as she was waving to the last of her students on the way out her classroom
door, she snatched it up quickly.

“Cabos. Now.” Then Imogen hung up on her.
Hello weekend
margaritas
.

“And how was the study group yesterday?” Forcing Seth to
communicate with him was getting more difficult by the grade level. But Dillon
was intent on spending some time with him, at least on this weekend. He wasn’t
on the clock until Sunday night and so come Saturday night, Dillon was dragging
his butt to the movies whether Seth wanted to go or not.

“Ms. Page’s cool. The group’s fun. Not much more to say,
Dad.” He had that annoyed tone to his voice as though there was no logical
reason his father should be so interested in his life. But he was trapped
beside him in the car with little means of escape.

“Cool, huh? I wouldn’t have pegged her as cool during
conferences a couple nights ago.” There was a whole lot more he could say about
his impression of the woman than that but he was guessing it’d be inappropriate
to speak so poorly of his son’s English teacher in front of him. She’d rattled
him. She was pissed and it left him defensive. But she was cute as hell too and
that left his mind wandering to places it had no business going with her.

She was too young for him, he was guessing. Mid-to-late
twenties to his mid-thirties and with an attitude like hers he’d be a glutton
for punishment. But she sure as hell didn’t have an attitude in his fantasies
of her.

She was of average height, if not on the shorter side and
perfectly curvy. Her hair was light-brown and long and even when she was pissed
off she was pretty. Her eyes were large and blue and she had lashes that went
on for miles, even if her fairly short stature didn’t give her legs that did
the same.

He’d heard Seth mention her a time or two but it was a bit
shocking to walk in on such a harsh disposition—not that he didn’t deserve it.
He had kept her waiting for forty-five minutes, after all. He’d been more than
ready to explain the situation but she’d given him little chance, and once her
mouth got in the way he’d decided he didn’t much care if she knew the why
behind his tardiness. Hot for teacher or not, she was a bitch.

The Hollywood blockbuster they saw was shoulder-to-shoulder
seating and as Seth put it, “it sucked ass, Dad.” He was sure he should discipline
him for his bad language but he was so busy agreeing with him and laughing at
the same time, he forgot that part of parenting.

Raising Seth alone had been something of a terrifying
prospect at first. He was fortunate enough to have a sister two doors down who
had a son only a year older than Seth. The boys had been close growing up and
it was only thanks to his sister Molly that he’d managed to work and parent. He
couldn’t conceive of being without her. The boys were back and forth between
their houses nearly every day and the moment he pulled into the drive, Seth
headed off to Molly’s to see if Jake was around.

Dillon found them awhile later parked in front of Molly’s TV
playing video games. “Hey, Uncle Dillon. Mom’s out back on the patio.”

He brought a couple beers for him and Molly and joined her
on the patio where she had the outdoor chimney lit and warming the small paving
stone area. Their yards backed up to a hilly wooded area. The front of their
homes both had great views of Puget Sound, though from many miles away and they
were lucky enough to have private backyards that met the hills behind them.

Molly had made it clear she bought the home for completely
personal reasons that had nothing to do with her little brother being a single
parent with a baby but he knew she was full of shit. He was terribly lucky she
was so full of shit. She was long-divorced from Jake’s father and Molly liked
to think of them as something of a team when it came to parenting.

“What’s up with Seth’s reading group? He mentioned it to
Jake last night at dinner.”

“Struggling with reading comprehension. The group’s supposed
to help, I guess.”

“You guess? What’d his teacher say about his reading
comprehension?”

“I don’t know. It was bad? It was kind of a strained
meeting.”

“Did you say strange?”

“That too. His English teacher is a pill. I was late to the conference
and she wasn’t very happy about it.”

“Uh…ya think? Who’s the teacher?”

“Ms. Page.”

“Aha. Jake had her last year. She’s actually awesome, so
that tells me you’re likely the pill and you deserved pill attitude for being
the pill.”

“Well thanks for the support, Sis.”

“Just sayin’. She kinda rocks as a teacher. How late were
you exactly?”

“Forty-five minutes.” He said it quietly as he turned his
head from Molly.

“What? You’re definitely the pill. Forty-five minutes? What
the hell did you expect?”

“I said I was sorry.”

She nearly spit out a mouthful of beer. “Yeah right. I know
your apologies and they’re never quite what they should be. For instance, if
you sneer while apologizing, it cancels the apology out. If you glare, same
thing. If you apologize and then get upset with the other person, again,
apology canceled.”

He was chuckling by the time she was done speaking. Yeah, he
might not have been quite as sincere as he should have been but damn, she’d
made it hard on him.

“I think you should apologize to her.”

“Should I now?” He was being sarcastic. There was no way in
hell.

“She’s cute. Apology parlayed into a date perhaps? You never
know.”

“No thanks. She was rude to me.” He gave her his best pouty
face, which she scoffed at. She knew better.

“You’re the picture of irritating aloofness. I highly doubt
the sweet little Ms. Page sent you running for the hills.”

Maybe not the hills but she had made a mark. He’d not quite
gotten her out of his mind yet. She was pretty. She was also bizarre. Angry one
second, weird the next. He’d definitely caught her staring at him in the
parking lot and then…well then she tried to start her already running car and
sped off as he stood there staring after her. She was …quirky. Quirky hot. He
liked quirky hot. What the hell was he saying? He did not like her.

He left Seth there for the night with plans to come over for
breakfast the next morning and he went to bed alone. He went to bed alone every
night. Even when he was getting laid on a regular basis he still went to bed
alone. It wasn’t as though he had any opposition to a real relationship but it
was complicated. In his line of work, there was little time for it. With a son
in the picture there was even less. Commitment was a thing of the past. Fucking
was not, even if his dear sister was ready to see him settle down again.

* * * * *

By the next morning, he was helping Molly in the kitchen. He
was really just standing around moving things about when she wasn’t looking so
she’d get tripped up. More than once he caught her pointing to the spot on the
counter she knew she’d left something just to find it on the opposite counter.
It took her a good thirty minutes to catch on to that one before she kicked him
out with a stack of dishes to set the table. He left midafternoon with Seth in
tow to do laundry. By that night there was a good possibility Seth would be
back. Dillon would be on call and there was little chance that wouldn’t turn
into something. It was Seattle after all. Plenty to keep him busy.

“No, I don’t personally think there’s anything wrong with
pairing stripes with plaid…if you want to look like a total dumbass.” She was
holding her cell phone between her cheek and her shoulder while trying to
unload her groceries from her car. Imogen was going on and on about her latest
fashion ideology.

No one but Imogen would actually see the art behind her
vision, including Katrina, but it wouldn’t stop her dear friend from trying to
convince her anyway. Imogen was an arts teacher and drama coach. That meant she
directed pretty much anything theatrical in their school. Couple her creative
streak with her charming British accent and she was quite the character.

“Listen, Imogen, can I let you go? I’ve got an arm full of
groceries and I can’t find my keys.”

When she reached the side door, she struggled to drop her
cell phone into her hip pocket before she reached into the side pocket of her
tote bag to grab her keys. She was cutting off the circulation to her hand
thanks to about three times more grocery bags hanging from her wrist than what
ought to be humanly possible but damn it, she was not making a second trip the
whole ten feet from her car to the side door of her house.

As she snatched up her keys quickly, she fit the key in the
lock, pushed the door open and then hoisted the bags onto the counter just
inside the door. She let out an exaggerated sigh, turning to pull the storm
door shut behind her and that’s when it hit her—or not so much it as
him
.

The man, dressed in black, flew toward her. He was large and
he looked like an ominous shadow descending on her as she fell back onto her
kitchen floor. Terror was seizing her heart like a shrinking box that was
squeezing in around her.

Katrina started scampering backward across her floor like a
belly-up spider. She knew she couldn’t move quickly in this position but she
was too damn afraid to turn away from him. He was closing in on her and she was
panicking more than she even imagined possible. She’d left the light on in her
living room but it helped her little. The man wore a mask and there was nothing
of him to see aside from his cold blue eyes. They were wide with what looked
like fury but for what?

Katrina was being quiet. She’d not screamed, not yelled, not
said anything at all and she knew she should but she couldn’t seem to get
herself to breathe, much less get her throat to move. She was going to die. She
was going to die alone in silence in her home with this madman.

The thought was gut-wrenchingly depressing and a sob finally
passed her lips as the picture of just how awful her death might look and feel
hit full force. This man was going to hurt her. He was going to hurt her in all
the ways woman feared a man might. Her worst nightmares were coming true as she
scrambled away from this monster saying nothing. She wasn’t even trying to
defend herself. She was simply crab-crawling across her floor.

His mouth opened, showing surprisingly normal-looking teeth.
She almost assumed he was a monster under that mask but it didn’t much matter
what his dental habits were as the snarl that was firmly planted on this man’s
mouth made it clear he meant business.

“What do you want?” She’d hit the edge of her brick
fireplace mantel and she could go no farther. Her forearm rose in front of her
face in defense and her mouth finally worked. “Please. I’ll give you whatever
you want. Please…please don’t hurt me.” She was begging and she could feel the
tears dropping from her eyes as she waited for him to do something. He was
towering over her, glaring down. He was frozen like a large statue and all she
could do was wait.

When he reached down for the collar of her shirt, she
shrieked and the sobs that she’d failed to stifle turned to wails of desperation.
Snot was running from her nose and when he jerked her to her fee she tried
again to hold her hands out in front of her. She had to fight back but she was
too terrified to even move. Her hands were crossed at her wrist only a few
inches from her face as though she could make him disappear if she could just
block him out—keep him from killing her if she couldn’t see him.

“Please…please…please…” Her breath was hitching in her
throat as she pleaded with him.

His other hand shot out and slapped her hands away from her
face before grabbing her by the throat. He squeezed and her panic built
further. He was panting and she was trying to sob around the constricting
pressure on her throat. When her phone suddenly rang from her pocket, she
grabbed at it without much thought in her head.

She hit the answer button as she pulled it from her pocket
and before he could even react, she yelled as loud as her garbled throat would
allow. “Help! Help me please!” It was all she got out before he backhanded her
across the face. Her head exploded in a light storm of colors that flashed in
the back of her eyes and she started sobbing again. He snatched at the phone
and she threw it away from her.

When his eyes returned to her, they were searing her through
like daggers. His snarl had turned animalistic and she watched as if in slow
motion as he raised his hand and punched her. It sent her head sailing in the
opposite direction toward the fireplace behind her and he let loose his grip on
her throat as she was sent toward the rough hard surface of the mantel.

Her head hit the brick just above and outside her right
eyes, scraping across the surface after smacking hard into it. She fell down,
collapsing on the corner of the brick ledge surrounding the fireplace. It
knocked the wind out of her, pulled her shirt up and scraped across her stomach
as she rolled down to the floor.

Her back was to him and as she finished rolling from the fireplace,
she caught only a glimpse of his hulking figure as he darted out her still-open
side door and into the night. She started sobbing as she crawled toward the
door and it was only once she’d pulled it closed, locked it and collapsed back
to the floor that she heard Imogen’s voice screeching to her from her abandoned
phone on the floor.

She crawled to the phone, afraid to stand up from her place
on the ground. She tried to catch her breath as she held the phone to her ear.
But as she gulped down air her voice started to hitch and the sobs took her
over again.

“Okay…okay…I’m okay, Imogen.” She had to force her throat to
tighten and control the sobs so she could get the words out.

“I’ve got 911 on my landline. They’re on the way. Are you
safe? What’s happened? Please talk to me!” She was trying as hard as Katrina to
control her voice.

“Someone broke in. He’s gone. I’m okay. But I’m scared,
Imogen.” And then she was sobbing again.

Katrina could hear Imogen relaying information to the 911
operator and she stayed on the phone with her. Katrina pulled her knees up
close to her body as the panic washed through her in waves that would subside
and then reinvigorate. But Imogen was there, soothing her, while she waited and
occasionally reassuring the 911 operator that Katrina was okay. Imogen stayed
on the line until Katrina could hear the sirens approaching.

“I’m okay now. I can hear the sirens.” Her voice was still
shuddering and lurching as she spoke and Imogen remained there at the
operator’s insistence until the police pulled into her driveway and started
pounding on her door.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Imogen
disconnected quickly.

When she pulled the door open, two men in uniforms stood by
with their guns drawn as others swarmed around the back of her house. “Miss.
Miss. Are you alone?”

She nodded. “He left out this door. He’s gone.”

“Miss, your head’s bleeding. Do you need an ambulance?”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She nodded.

The officer was young and he looked nearly as scared as she
felt but she wasn’t alone anymore. She couldn’t seem to stop shaking, trembling
as though her core was quaking. “Miss…”

“I’m Katrina. Please…just call me Katrina.”

“The officers outside are securing the area. The detectives
are on their way and we’ll get crime-scene techs here to process the scene.”
Her home had become a scene.
What the fuck?
“Can you tell me what the
perp might have touched?” She indicated the doorjamb and door they were
standing near and she shrugged beyond that.

“I don’t think anything else really. I opened the door and
he shoved me inward. He very likely didn’t even touch the door. I think it was
still standing open when he left.” The officer nodded and pointed to the sofa
in her living room. She sank into the softness of her vintage moss-green velvet
couch, grabbing a throw pillow and clutching it to her chest.

She stared at the edge of her coffee table. It was sitting
at an odd angle on the rug—it had no doubt been pushed aside during the attack.
“What the hell did he want?”

She didn’t even realize she’d spoken the question out loud
until the officer responded to her. “I’m sorry?” She just shook her head. “Can
I get you anything?”

“No. I’m fine.” The poor officer seemed to have no real idea
what to say to her.

She could feel the spot above her eye, searing as though she
had rug burn on her forehead. Her head was throbbing, her eye socket was aching
fiercely and her throat felt as if she’d gargled with gasoline. She zoned out,
waiting. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, only that she didn’t want to
bother trying to talk to the officer who seemed to be more nervous than she
was.

She could hear a man approaching, though she could hear
nothing of what he said, and the officer moved to meet him at her side door.
The officer pointed at the frame of the door, wordlessly telling the man to
avoid touching it. When the man stepped through, her jaw dropped before she
could stop it.

“Detective Adler.” The officer nodded to him, but the man
who suddenly appeared was far too busy staring at her just as intently as she
was staring at him. The officer started giving him a rundown, but his eyes
continued to hold hers.

His brow furrowed as he studied her and she swallowed over a
lump in her throat. “Yeah yeah yeah. Have them dust the door and get the extra officers
out of here. The scene’s secure so I don’t need the extra bodies trampling
around.” He dismissed the officer and the officer ducked out the door, leaving
them alone—still staring at each other.

“Seth’s teacher.” He offered her a weak if not shocked
smile.

“Seth’s father.” She pursed her lips as he walked toward
her. “I’m Katrina by the way.”

“May I sit?” She nodded. “And it’s Dillon.”

“Or…Detective, apparently. I didn’t know.” She laughed
nervously as he watched her calmly. She was not calm. She was freaking the
f-bomb out and now the handsome man she didn’t like had his handsome ass
sitting next to her on her couch.

When his fingers brushed her long floppy bangs away from the
side of her face, she flinched and her eyes darted to him. “How did this happen?”
His voice was exceptionally soothing as he spoke to her and she forgot for half
a second that she didn’t actually like him.

“Forehead, fireplace.” His brow flinched again as he
continued to hold her hair back from her face. When his thumb brushed lightly
down her temple, she moaned quietly at the tender touch before she could stop
herself. He pulled back quickly as her hair fell back in place, tickling her
skin as it moved. His hand moved to her chin, tipping it up as his eyes took in
her throat. He pulled her chin back down and studied her eyes again.

“Your throat looks like it’s going to bruise and your eye
looks swollen too.”

“He was choking me and he punched me.”

“I think you should go to the hospital and have it checked
out.” She shook her head. “You could have a concussion.”

“No.” Her gaze flashed to his quickly. “I’m fine.”

His lips pursed for half a second as he exhaled a deep
breath. “I’m going to have to ask you some questions. Are you ready to talk
about it?” She shrugged and at just that moment, Imogen burst through the side
door with an officer trailing behind her, annoyed at her flurry of panic.

“You can’t be in here! And don’t touch that door!”

“Trink!” She practically shrieked and Katrina stood walking
toward her. Imogen had tears streaming down her face. Katrina wasn’t even so
upset—until Imogen pulled her into a fierce bear hug. Then Katrina fell apart
too. Imogen was tall, nearly five feet ten inches to Katrina’s five feet four
inches and Imogen practically had her off her feet, smothering her in her long
blonde hair. She was stunning but just as quirky as Katrina and they were both
showing their weirdness at the moment. “I thought you were going to die! What
the fuck!”

“Imogen, I’m fine. But I have to answer some questions for
the detective.” Katrina couldn’t believe she was being the calm one but
eventually Imogen released her death grip on Katrina, setting her back down on
her feet. When Katrina turned back to Detective Adler, she caught a small smile
on his lips before his face returned to his somber serious expression.

“Trink is your nickname?” He spoke quietly to her as she
sank down beside him and Imogen took the armchair sitting off to the side of
the living room.

“No…not Trink. I would have to actually be okay with someone
calling me Trink in order for it to be a nickname.”

“Trink, you’re sure you’re okay?” She glared at Imogen but
caught the subtle smirk on Detective Adler’s face out of her periphery.

“Imogen, this is Detective Adler. He’s actually Seth Adler’s
father.”

“Oh!”
Oh holy fuck.
“He’s the one with the nice ass
who pissed you off the other night, isn’t he?” She was speaking quietly as
though they were sharing a secret of some sort. The problem was Imogen was
talking right in front of him as his eyes moved between them.