

Hindsight

By Eleanor Dineen

Copyright Eleanor Dineen 2013

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. Thank you for your support.

This book is a work of fiction. I have drawn upon my own experiences for much of the content. However, I have invoked an artistic license and have embellished for the sake of the storyline. No part of this book is intended to be reference or source material. Any relation to a real person or story is purely coincidence.

"Women are never stronger than when they arm themselves with their weaknesses."

-Madame Marie du Deffand

CHAPTER ONE

MONDAY

The printer groaned loudly as it spit out page after page of law enforcement hits. Adelaide watched it, counting along with each page as it hit the tray. Soon her own groaning drowned out the printer. Twelve hits in one weekend. It was as though her clients all conspired together to get into trouble at the same time. Monday morning wasn't starting off so well. Yet, it was pretty standard. Regardless of the fact that many of her clients were unemployed, Friday and Saturday were still the prime times for them to get into trouble. She gathered the hits off the printer and started flipping through them. Several of the names were not news to her. They were repeat customers with law enforcement. She would have to call them and confront them, per policy, yet it was almost unnecessary. She could do the entire conversation on her own now. It would entail a lot of stories about police corruption with a healthy dose of assuring her that they would never lie to her.

Adelaide looked at the clock above her desk. It was 9:00 in the morning. She had only been at work for a half hour and she was already counting down until 4:30. She blew out a sigh as she split the pile of hits into two; priority and second call. A split second after reaching for her phone to make the first call, the printer groaned to life again. Adelaide dropped her elbows to her desk and held her head in her hands until the printer was silent again. Make that thirteen hits. She took a cleansing breath and ran her hand across her ponytail, tugging on it. It was a habit she had for as long as she could remember. Her mother used to tug on her hair to get her attention and the action had bled into her adult life. She used it to calm herself and focus.

The page on the printer was a name she wished she wasn't reading. She had been having problems with that client lately which really pissed her off because he had been on the right path just prior. She had been counting on him to be one of her success stories and then he had to go and fuck it up, damn him. She was going to get him back on track if it took every ounce of skill she had. This kid was worth the time and he just needed to focus again to get back on track. She reached for the phone again when a knock at her door startled her. She was still working on her startle reflex. It wasn't exactly part of the job description to be jumpy, but she was getting better. She had just recently stopped looking over her shoulder everywhere she went.

"Hey, Adelaide. Good morning."

"Hi, Jack. How was your weekend?" she asked politely.

Her supervisor wasn't exactly the type to stop by to say hi. He was, however, the type to stop by and make sure his employees were in their office on time. She had been transferred to his team as a temporary move when her supervisor retired. When the new supervisor was hired, Adelaide was supposed to be transferred along with the rest of her unit but Jack had kept her. It was a well-known fact that if Jack recruited, it meant being on the short list of those getting fired. Adelaide had been more than a little worried at first, but it had been four months. Jack had only recently stopped kicking back her reports for minor corrections and micro managing her caseload. Adelaide wanted to think that she had proven herself to him and that he realized she was not going to be fired. But, in reality, another person in the unit had screwed up and started taking the lion's share of the animosity.

"Weekend was good. How about yours?"

"Same old thing," she told him with a forced smile.

He nodded toward her desk. "Pretty good sized stack there. How many do you have in jail?"

"I was just setting out to find that out," she replied. "Would it sound too optimistic if I said, hopefully none?"

Jack laughed. "Optimistic could be a way to say it. Naïve would be another way."

She sighed and sat back in her chair. The smile on her face was nowhere near genuine, but Jack's jokes were nowhere near funny. "A girl can hope," she replied.

"Well, keep me apprised. I mean, should your hopes not come true," he said with a wink.

He walked away from her office and Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. Jack wasn't really that bad, but she always felt awkward making small talk with supervisors. Or anyone for that matter. She was not exactly a social butterfly. But, for her life, she didn't need to be social. She preferred to be alone. She chose the company of her dog over human interaction. No one ever came to ask her to happy hour after work, mostly because she was largely unapproachable. She wasn't mean by any definition of the word, but she was awkward and people tended to stay away.

Adelaide tugged on her ponytail again before grabbing the phone. Might as well start with the hardest one first. The phone rang several times before a woman answered it. She was thrown for a second, expecting her client, a man, to answer.

"Can I speak with Kyle?"

"Who is this?" the woman asked gruffly.

Adelaide's instincts were alerted by the tone. Something was not right. Her response, however, was automatic. "This is Adelaide St. James, Nevada State Probation and Parole. I need to speak with Kyle."

"He's unavailable."

Adelaide started to reply but the phone went dead. Well, that was unusual. Adelaide shook her head and flagged Kyle for a home visit. She had twelve more to deal with and most likely half of those would need home visits for avoiding her as well.

******

Brad Fortune was pacing back and forth in the 15x15 box that some called an apartment. He was trying to see the scene from every angle possible. The fact that the room was covered in blood made it seem even smaller. The muggy heat made him feel like the walls were closing in. The body was on the bed in the corner of the room. There was a card table in the opposite corner that held nothing. About four feet away was the "kitchen" with a refrigerator that was one step up from a college dorm refrigerator. There was a small bathroom off to the side. It contained a toilet that had at one time probably been white but was now more of yellow brown combination. There was also a pedestal sink, a mirror and a stand up shower that rivaled a coffin standing on end. The sink was stained pink, telling Brad that the killer had cleaned himself (or herself) up before leaving the scene. The mirror was so old and decaying that Brad could barely see his reflection in it. It was also covered in tiny specks of blood, backsplash from the killer washing his hands. There was blood on the floor, tracked in by the killer. It was smudged and smeared deliberately in an attempt to disguise footprints. The blood droplets had congealed around the room. This scene was not fresh.

Brad carefully picked his way closer to the body, avoiding the smudges even though his own shoes were encased in blue paper booties to protect the scene. The victim had once been a white male, although he was now blood red from head to toe. He had endured a brutal attack. The amount of blood on the scene indicated the man's heart had been beating during every blow. He had probably felt every last bone break before the attacker was finished. The victim's cheek bones had been crushed in making his eyes appear to bulge out from his face in a very unusual manner. The head was caved in on the left side crushing hair, bone, blood and brain matter into a mosh pit in the skull. Hair and skin was nearly scalped from the other half of his head. His arms, which now hung lifeless, were hanging at odd and unnatural angles angles. These were either defensive wounds or torture. The clothing the victim wore was soaked in blood and completely unidentifiable. The metallic smell of the blood gave way to the stinging smell of feces and urine as Brad got closer. The victim had lost control of his bowels at some point during the attack, most likely seconds before death.

Brad looked at the walls, making note of the blood spatter patterns. Above the head of the bed was a spray pattern that contained brain matter and possibly tiny bone fragments. The victim had been sitting on the bed when he was struck in the head. Perhaps he was trying to scoot away from the attacker. There just wasn't anywhere to go, especially in the shoebox of an apartment. The attacker would have been blocking the doorway.

The scene was being processed by two crime scene technicians. Three was a crowd in that apartment so Brad stepped out of their way onto the front porch. He drew in a deep breath, happy to be out of that blood soaked cage. Living like that should have been completely foreign to him, but it wasn't. He began to wonder about the victim, about his last moments alive. He had probably been terrified and in excruciating pain. Who would do that to him? The nature of the injuries suggested that the killer knew the victim. It was too personal, too intimate of an attack to be a stranger. What had the victim done to earn such a rage? For a homicide detective in Elko, Nevada, Brad needed to answer those questions to solve the crime. But as a human who had been through way too much in his thirty four years, he asked the questions because he never fully understood the mindset of a murderer. He was truly empathetic toward the victim and never mastered the art of being full detached.

His partner, on the other hand, had mastered that task on day one. She was marching toward him at that very moment, her high heels clicking on the concrete walkway of the apartment complex. She was on the phone, nodding a lot, which Brad found amusing since the caller couldn't see her. She was saying a lot of "yes sirs" which meant she was on the phone with a superior. As she walked up to him, several patrolmen and crime scene techs in the area took notice.

Brad's partner, Detective Jennifer Spring was damn hard to miss. Brad had of course noticed her looks but had never had much of an afterthought about it. Jen was probably the vision for the man who created the word "bombshell." She was blonde, impeccably tan, and enticingly thin. She had deep brown eyes and lips that looked as though she had fat injected into them. But she was all natural. She wore tight skirt suits, always with high heels that enhanced her butt and her calves. And, she did it all on purpose. In addition to her good looks, her promiscuity was also the talk of the locker room. Brad couldn't count how many times he had been asked what Jen looked like naked.

As if he would know. Brad was probably the only detective that had not slept with Jen. And unfortunately most of the detectives were married. Jen had never made a move on Brad. Brad hadn't thought too much about it. He was not Jen's type. The only thing he had in common with the men she slept with was height. He was tall, a few inches over six foot. He was built but no one knew that. Brad had never changed in the locker room and he was never seen without a bullet proof vest or a sport coat. He might have been attractive if it hadn't been for the razor thin scar that ran from the left side of his face, through his cheek to the cupid's bow of his top lip. People flinched when they looked at him, or so he thought. He deliberately left his brown hair somewhat shaggy hoping that it would fall over part of the scar, but it was useless to try and hide it.

Jen snapped her phone shut and turned to Brad. "So, I got the name of the tenant from the landlord. Kyle Alton. Sarge ran the name through and he's on paper. Burglary, Possession and Assault."

Brad whistled. "Hit the trifecta with this one." He glanced back into the apartment. "We'll have to do fingerprints or DNA to make a solid ID. His face isn't going to tell us anything at this point."

"Anybody even care this POS is dead?" Jen asked.

"Jen!" Brad admonished.

Jen was the type of person who had her mind set about everyone she met and there was no changing it no matter what. The second she learned that the victim was on paper, she had dismissed him. Now he was just someone whose death saved the taxpayers a whole lot of money. The way Jen thought should have prevented her from being a decent detective, but she was decent. She had a reputable clearance rate; nowhere near Brad's but also nothing to spit at. She played bad cop to a T and somehow it all just worked for her.

"What? At least he's not going to be around to rob or assault someone anymore," she muttered.

Brad started to say something when one of the crime scene techs stuck his head out of the apartment. "Detectives!" he called. "There's a phone ringing in here."

Brad and Jen tried to beat each other to get in the apartment first, much like children. The tech pointed to the phone which had been partially hidden under a blanket near the victim's feet. Brad grabbed a latex glove and went to answer the phone, taking note the curious absence of blood on it. Jen beat him to the take and snatched up the phone.

"Whoever is calling will be expecting a male voice," Brad cautioned her.

"Yeah well I'll be his bitchy girlfriend," she retorted.

"Unless his girlfriend is the one calling," he mumbled, but let her answer the phone.

"Hello?" She paused, listening to the caller. "Who is this?" Another pause. "He's unavailable." She hung up the phone looking more pissed off than before.

"Who was that?" Brad asked.

"His freaking PO."

"Why didn't you talk to him? We'll need to talk to him eventually."

"Bitch work," she told him, knowing full well that he intended to do it.

"Detectives," a patrolman said from the doorway. "The ME is here."

They stepped aside as Brad handed Jen an evidence bag so she could bag the cellphone. The ME, Mike Miller gave them a mock salute as he walked in the door and went to the victim.

"Yep, he's dead," Mike said. Mike had a dark sense of humor, a defense mechanism against the horror he saw every day. He wasn't for everyone but Brad respected him tremendously. He was the best of the best.

"Anything preliminary you can hand us to work with?" Brad asked.

"I'll see what I can do."

Brad watched as Mike checked the body. He pressed his hands along the arms and abdomen and legs. He checked the fingers. After a couple of seconds watching Mike looking around the room, Brad asked him what he was looking for.

"Why is it so hot in here? He didn't have an air conditioner?"

Brad had located a window unit in the bathroom but it was broken. He told Miller such.

"For how long?" Mike asked.

"No telling," Brad replied.

"Then I can't give you an accurate time of death. I'd say under normal conditions you're looking at 24-32 hours."

"So Saturday night, early Sunday morning," Brad said, more to himself.

"I'm going to give the info to the patrolmen, have them ask around the complex," Jen said as she walked out of the room.

Brad wanted an excuse to walk out, too. The room was suffocating.

"I can't say for certain which blow caused the death, but one of them broke a rib so hard that it punctured through the skin. From the location, my guess is that it went through a lung, which would have been fatal."

"Any idea on the weapon?"

Mike leaned in closer to the body. "Best guess at this time is something cylindrical."

"A pipe or bat or something?"

"Can't say for sure," he replied as he motioned for his crew. "Let's bag his hands and get him on the table."

Brad watched as Mike's assistants who were probably barely twenty three years old loaded up the victim. They did it with such efficiency that Brad started feeling sorry for them. They saw death every day and were expected to act without feeling.

"When do you think you'll get to this autopsy?" Brad wanted to know.

"I can make room tomorrow at about one."

"See you there."

Mike left the same way he came, with a mock salute. Brad gave his position back to the crime scene techs to photograph the bed after the victim had been removed. Brad took note of the mattress that was soaked in blood. He wondered if the victim had lived long enough to bleed to death slowly or if the attacker finished the job before leaving. The amount of blood made Brad believe that death was slow and torturous. Once the sheets were bagged and the room had been gone over with a fine tooth comb, Brad supervised the seal on the door. He and Jen had searched every nook and cranny, including the refrigerator compartments which were all empty. The only thing in the fridge was a package of turkey and a couple beers. When he was assured that the scene was protected, he called Jen who was in the landlord's office. He met up with her just as the landlord was handing over Kyle Alton's application.

"So it is him, then?" the landlord asked.

"Mr..." Brad paused.

"Messer. Abe Messer," he filled in.

"Mr. Messer, we can't confirm identity at this time," he told him. "But the victim was in that apartment so we are proceeding as though it is Mr. Alton."

"You don't have any relatives or references listed on this application, Mr. Messer," Jen's accusing voice said.

"Yeah well most of these people don't have relatives or references. Ninety percent are felons," he snapped at her.

"And why the hell are you letting your apartment complex turn into a community jail?" Jen snapped back.

"Where the fuck else are they supposed to go?" he replied, raising his voice.

Brad was all too used to this situation, jumping in to calm a situation that Jen had unnecessarily exasperated. He really resented Jen's work style but in the last two years, he had learned to live with it. He was the definition of patience; with her and with almost everyone he had ever met, including criminals. Jen was the hothead; Brad was the calm and collected one. If a suspect threw a punch at Jen, the suspect could expect the pounding of a lifetime or her gun in his face. If someone threw a punch at Brad, he just ducked it and calmly placed the suspect in handcuffs whenever possible.

"Mr. Messer," Brad said serenely. "Is there anything you can tell us about Kyle?"

Messer's face was contorted in anger but he banked it as he answered Brad. "I don't know a thing about him. And that's telling as it is. The ones who are trouble I know by name."

Brad rose to leave. "We appreciate your time," he said, pulling Jen up by her arm and leading her out the door. As soon as they were out of earshot Brad said, "Can you please be a little more polite to our witnesses?"

"What witnesses? We are in the middle of cons R us. No one's talking Brad. No one has seen anything and no one is talking to a cop in this neighborhood. I'll tell you what we got here. We got royally fucked by this case because there is no solving it," she riposted.

"We owe it to Kyle and his family to try," he replied.

"He's a piece of shit, Brad. His family probably feels the same," she said. "Regardless, I didn't say I wouldn't work it. I'm just saying don't be surprised when this hits cold cases."

Brad and Jen went back to their beat up old Ford to head back to the office. The ride back was pleasantly quiet. Back at the office they parted ways at their shared cubicle wall. Brad booted up his computer and proceeded to get a background check on Kyle Alton. He was on parole. As far as Brad could tell he got the Burglary and Possession charges at the same time. He was on parole for those when he caught the Assault case and went back to prison. He had been back out on parole for nearly three years and had been in next to no trouble since. He had a few active traffic warrants but that was to be expected and hardly serious. His parole officer was A. St. James out of the office a couple miles down the road from the police station. Brad would be stopping in there in the next day or two.

Kyle was a 24 year old male with family who were in the system as well. A check on the parents revealed that his father was dead and his mother was in prison along with his step father for cooking meth together. His brother Jake was also on parole out of a different office. Brad located a parole violation warrant for Jake that had been cancelled recently. Jake had run from his supervision but his officer had found him and gotten him back on track. Brad would have to call Jake's PO, too and see if he could set up an interview with him.

Brad brought the information over the Jen's cubicle. She had been running recent parole releases that had been in prison the same time as Kyle. Between the two of them, they had a new list of people to interview. Brad would take care of the family and Jen would try to track down some of the releases while they waited for the fingerprints and phone records to come back.

CHAPTER TWO

TUESDAY

Adelaide was at her desk earlier than usual writing a violation report for one of the six of thirteen names from her Monday hits that had been arrested on new charges. She had been hard at work, making sure the Parole Board knew on no uncertain terms that this offender was absolutely not suited to be in the community and if they chose to release him, the public was at risk. Unfortunately the parole board was not exactly motivated by common sense or public safety, although their mission statement said differently. Instead they were motivated politically and constantly blaming over-crowding. Adelaide understood and was sympathetic about over-crowding but parole violators deserved a spot in every prison despite the numbers. She preferred misdemeanors and non-violent felons be released before sending parole violators back in the community. Nothing irked her more than someone who was given a second chance and completely blew it.

The knock on her open door frame startled her again. She looked up to find Jack at her door, looking like something was wrong. "Jack," she said.

"You have visitors," he told her, his voice dry.

"Ok....clients?"

He shook his head. "Cops."

Adelaide's heart took a tumble into her stomach. She felt the flush in her cheeks and her body overheated. Her eyes darted all over the office looking for an escape. Cops? How? Why now? She pushed back from her desk, nervously chewing her lip. She tugged on her ponytail and got ahold of her breathing before she spoke. Embarrassed about her reaction, she covered as best as she could.

"Who did what in which city?" She tried for a smile, but the concern on Jack's face told her he didn't miss her little panic attack.

"One of your clients was murdered," he told her, moving farther into her office.

Adelaide was startled. She would have been less surprised if they said that one of her clients had murdered someone. "Who?"

"His name was Kyle Alton."

Adelaide's face fell as well as her hope for Kyle. God damn that kid, he had a chance. "I just called him yesterday and spoke to a woman. She wouldn't let me talk to him," she said wearily, her voice laced with sympathy.

"That was me," a voice said from the hallway.

Adelaide looked past Jack to see an attractive woman in a skirt suit in her doorway. She walked into the room and narrowed her eyes at Adelaide. "I see," she said.

Behind her a tall man in a sharp looking suit filled her doorway. Adelaide just barely held back a gasp but her eyes widened and her face flushed. His presence had been a little too familiar and had alarmed her but when the surprise wore off she realized the alarm was not entirely in a bad way. He was big, his shoulders barely leaving room on either side of the door frame. Her heart inexplicably started beating faster and she felt too warm.

"These are the detectives working the case," Jack said to her.

His voice brought her attention to the fact that she was staring at the man in her doorway. "I understand. Jack, I can take it from here," she told him in a not so subtle cue to exit.

He nodded. "Call if you need anything," were his parting words.

Adelaide nodded and turned her attention to the detectives, gesturing for them to sit down and forcing her gaze at the woman instead of the man. The woman had glared Adelaide down the second she walked in and Adelaide knew her type from a mile away, all too familiarly.

"Please sit," she said.

Brad sat down in the chair across the desk from Officer St. James. He was feeling a lot of emotions at that moment but the predominant one was being angry at Jen. She had spoken to Kyle's PO on the phone and could have easily told him that she was a woman. When he went to the front desk and asked for Officer St. James, they had been escorted to her office. The man went in first and when he heard a woman's voice he about jumped out of his shoes. He hated to be misinformed and he felt that Jen had done it deliberately. He had spoken about Kyle's PO more than once and had used the term "he." Jen had never once corrected him. He had been glaring at Jen when he looked up and caught a look at the officer. Something inside of him shifted and he felt the need to brace himself. His skin heated and he suddenly found it difficult to get full breath. Even more than he hated to be misinformed, he hated surprises. She was a damn big surprise, as was the fact that his pulse started racing. Officer St. James was unlike any PO he had ever seen, he could tell that instantaneously. Her pale skin was slightly flushed and she was tugging on her ponytail as though she was nervous. When the light hit her hair just right, the brown hinted at red. He didn't know why he noticed, but he did. He found himself noticing everything about her when he had no business even looking, especially since he was there on business. Even if he hadn't been on business, the way he was looking at her would have made a nun cross herself. She bit her lip and something in his chest fluttered sending a wave of fresh blood down south. He hadn't noticed a woman in damn near two years and in the span of two seconds, this one had him needing to sit on his hands to keep from touching. He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat to get back on track.

"Officer St. James," he started, determined to get through the interview without acting like he was feeling. He wasn't off to a great start as his voice cracked.

"Adelaide," she interrupted.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked.

"You can call me Adelaide," she clarified.

"I see," she replied. "I'm Detective Spring, this is Detective Fortune. We need to talk about Kyle."

Adelaide nodded, refusing to look at Detective Fortune and failing miserably. He had a thin scar that nearly sliced his face in two and she found it entirely intriguing. It ran through his eyebrow, down his cheek and to his lip. Adelaide soon realized that she was staring at his mouth and not just because of the scar. Her pulse raced and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. What was this? Why was she reacting this way? Especially when one of her clients had been murdered. She felt herself blush and tried to bank it. She forced her gaze to Detective Spring. This was business, not her personal life.

"You had his phone yesterday so he must have been dead then," she said.

"You think," Det. Spring snapped.

Brad's look shot daggers at her. He tried to cover. "Why were you calling, Officer?"

"Because his name was run, but I assume now that was in the course of your investigation," she answered.

"Can you tell us about him?" he asked.

She chewed on her lip for a torturous second before granting Brad mercy and getting up from her chair. God, he couldn't stop looking at her. He hadn't expected her to be so...perfect. She wasn't traditionally sexy, like Jen. She was just beautiful, uniquely beautiful. She walked over to the file cabinet and he tried his damn hardest not to notice that she was hiding curves with slightly baggy clothing. She came back to her desk with a file in hand. She flipped through it and pulled out a picture. She handed it to a bored looking Det. Spring.

"I thought Kyle was going to be one of my successes. I did everything I could to help him and he had been doing so well," she said as she pulled another picture out of the file and handed it to Detective Fortune. His uncontrollable eyes took note that her fingers were free of rings. "The first picture was three years ago when he was first released. The second one is from three months ago."

Brad leaned over toward Jen to see the photo. The boy pictured was scraggly, strung out, dirty. The picture in his hand showed a clean cut young man, pre-bashed in face. Brad noticed Officer St. James' eyes glaze over as she continued to speak. She sounded so utterly sad that his first instinct was to comfort her; not a natural feeling for him. He was empathetic and sometimes sympathetic but he never felt a real connection, not with anyone living that is.

"Something went wrong. I don't know what, but something big. The last two times he was here he created a disturbance," she told them.

"How so?" Brad asked.

"Well I dropped him and he was dirty again. He flipped out and cussed me out before running out of the office. I got him to come back in about three weeks ago and that time I had to have him removed," she replied.

"He got violent?" A feeling of protectiveness flared inside of him. Brad suddenly found himself wanting to hurt the victim. A completely irrational thought, but Officer St. James just seemed so gentle that he couldn't stand that the thought of anyone trying to hurt her.

"Yes, or he would have if several other officers hadn't stepped in." She sighed and Brad's eyes were drawn to the movement it caused to her chest. It caused movement in him, as well. He shifted in his seat which drew Jen's attention. He tried to ignore it. "He was just doing so well. I hadn't given up hope yet. I had him flagged for a home visit, but hadn't made it out yet."

Brad quickly realized that he had been staring at Officer St. James' chest when he made eye contact with her. Her cheeks blushed prettily. He looked to Jen whose eyebrows were so high they were almost in her hair. He opened his mouth to speak but Jen beat him to it.

"So let me get this straight. You knew something was wrong, he was acting dangerously but you hadn't gotten around to checking into it?" she spat out.

Adelaide's spine stiffened. "Detective, I have 97 cases. 13 of my clients had police contact last weekend alone. I can't be everywhere and do everything immediately. I'm sorry if that seems unacceptable to you, but I have to use my judgment to prioritize."

"13 at once, huh? Sounds like you might be doing something wrong," Jen antagonized her.

For the first time that he could remember, Brad wanted to smack a woman. His fists clenched at his sides as he fought for control. He couldn't believe Jen was running the interview the way she was. He leveled a glare at her, daring her to speak again. He started to speak, to apologize when Officer St. James spoke up first.

Adelaide crossed her arms. "I suppose it would sound like that to someone who has no idea what they are talking about," Adelaide quipped.

"Officer St. James," Brad started.

She held up her hand to stop him. "We are done here. You can have my notes. If you have questions rather than accusations, I'll answer them. Anything else and I will have to contact my union rep," she told them boldly.

"Sounds like you think you dropped the ball," Jen said.

"Jen!" Brad hissed, anger making his face flush and his jaw clench.

Officer St. James smiled but it didn't reach even a modicum of being genuine. "I'll see you out," she said.

They all stood. "Officer St. James, please let me apologize for my partner. We would really like your help," he told her, trying at all costs to stay in her office. And, not just for the interview.

"No, perhaps you do, but Detective Spring has other ideas. So, my notes will have to be sufficient," she said.

She was stronger than she appeared. Much stronger. She walked them out, swiping some pages off her printer as she did. She handed them to Brad along with her card.

"Thank you," he said, mildly. He pulled out his own card and handed it to her. She took it without touching his fingers.

"You're welcome. You're also welcome to call, but it'd be in your best interest to get my supervisor first since he will need to approve any formal release of file information," she said diplomatically.

"Perfect, we will deal with him then," Jen said and walked out.

Brad turned to offer his hand to Officer St. James but she had walked away, giving him a view he wouldn't soon forget. Brad walked calmly to the car along side Jen. He slid into his seat, every movement deliberately calm so that he would not blow up at her. That he was fighting for control so hard was new to him. Jen got under everyone's skin, even his. But, he had never felt out of control based on her behavior. Not even when she had tracked down his old police reports and used it against him to gain leverage. He had simply told her to leave it alone which, for some reason, she had. This time, after the unsolicited attack on Officer St. James, Brad wanted to dump her on the side of the road and make her walk back.

Instead he calmly asked, "Want to explain the interview technique you used in there?"

She was flipping through the pages of notes on Kyle Alton. "Sure, I got the PO off our backs. You know the type, cop wannabe. She would have been all over our investigation."

"You were rude and we really could have used her," he told her, talking through his firmly clenched teeth.

Jen laughed. "If you used her anymore in there, Brad, you would have built yourself a boy scout tent."

Brad nearly got whiplash for as fast as he turned to look at her. He felt his face flushed which probably meant his scar was stark white against it. "I don't know what you're talking about," he managed to say.

"I have eyes. I saw you ogling her tits. It's fine, I thought you were gay, but whatever. She's a little plain, don't you think?"

"I didn't notice one way or the other," he lied.

She definitely wasn't plain. He wasn't entirely sure what it was about her that caught his attention so readily. Maybe the fact that she was pale in world with a tanning salon on every street corner. Maybe it was the sympathy in her voice that told him she really cared about the victim. Maybe it was the fact that she came off as delicate when in reality she was strong. Something about the entire package appealed to him in a way he was sure he hadn't felt before. And he was sure he wouldn't be forgetting about it anytime soon. He didn't know what he was getting all worked up about anyway. It would never result in anything. Officer St. James had barely looked at him. It was the scar. It made people uncomfortable.

Jen laughed again. "You're so full of shit."

"What do the notes say?" he changed the subject.

"Blah blah blah, drugs, asshole behavior, blah blah blah. Oh hey, he worked at McDonald's. What an aspiration."

"Which one?"

"Doesn't say, but there's only two around this area. Want to check them both?"

"Might as well. We don't have the fingerprints or the phone LUDS back yet. Autopsy's not til one so we have time."

The second McDonald's turned out to be the correct one. Brad had gone to ask for the manager as Jen made herself comfortable at a table texting. She made it pretty clear that she would work the case, but she wouldn't work it hard. Brad planned on working it as hard as he worked anything else.

"I'm Scott, the manager, can I help you?" A greasy haired and faced kid no more than twenty years old walked up to him. Brad could hear Jen laugh a little behind him. He ignored her and avoided having to shake the kid's hand. He identified himself and Jen before asking:

"Do you have an employee named Kyle Alton?"

"As of today, not anymore. This is his third no call, no show," he replied warily. "What's he done?"

"He's dead," Jen said from behind him.

The man's eyes widened and Brad jumped in. "I'm sorry but has been killed. We were just trying to find some people that know him that could give us an insight into what's been going on the last few days."

The manager nodded, but he was clearly stunned. "Well, uh...he used to be a good employee but like I said, he was missing a lot lately."

"Did you know that he was on parole?"

"Sure, that's one of the reasons I hired him. His PO is tough and she really stays on him, so I didn't have to worry too much about him."

"Why would you hire someone because they are on parole?" Jen asked from behind him.

"Because he's accountable to someone else, too. If he quits or gets fired, he gets in trouble and could go back to prison. Makes for a good employee. I was hesitant at first, I'll admit that. But he was honest about his record and said that I could contact his PO. I did and she said something that I didn't expect."

"What's that?" Brad asked, perking up at the mention of Officer St. James.

"She said just because they fucked up didn't mean they were fuck-ups. She said it just like that. She said they were given a second chance but wouldn't be able to use it if no one in the community allowed them to."

Brad smiled. He liked what he heard about Adelaide St. James. He hadn't expected to hear that she would curse like that, but it didn't necessarily seem off. "Did Kyle have any friends here?"

"Friends? Well he talked to Marcus a bunch. But they weren't really friends. They aren't supposed to associate," he replied.

"Marcus is on paper, too?"

"Yeah, I hire a lot of hers," he said.

"Is Marcus here today?"

"Yep, behind the counter."

"Thank you Scott, you've been really helpful," he said, hearing Jen snort a little behind him.

"No problem. If you talk to Adelaide, let her know we got a spot open now," he told him.

The familiarity between this greasy kid and Officer St. James irked him, even though it was completely irrational. He just didn't like it. With a glance at Jen that told him she wasn't interested in talking with Marcus, he approached the counter alone. He started to identify himself when the kid, a young black male with braided dreadlocks, took a step back from the counter. His eyes widened and he dropped everything in his hands. Before Brad knew it, the kid bolted.

"Jen!" he called before vaulting the counter and chasing Marcus through the restaurant, making a mental note to never eat McDonald's again. Marcus burst through the backdoor and took off at a sprint. Fortunately, Brad kept himself in top shape, always prepared for the day when he might have to fight for his life. Marcus was fast, but Brad kept up. He knew Jen, in her three or four inch heels would be nowhere around, so it was up to him to catch this kid. Marcus made a sharp left turn into an alley which was ultimately his downfall. Brad caught up to him as he unsuccessfully tried to scale a six foot wooden privacy fence. He pulled the kid down by his shirt and took some deep breaths as he handcuffed him.

"Why you running Marcus?"

"You have to tell her that I didn't do nothing. I didn't screw up," he pleaded, nearly in tears.

"What? Tell who?" he asked, turning him around and shoving him down so he was sitting on some crates.

"Ms. Adelaide. You have to tell her that I didn't do anything," he begged.

"What are you talking about Marcus? I just came to ask you about Kyle."

"I know, I heard you say he was dead. It won't be me, I'm not going to be next. I didn't do anything. Please, you have to tell her!"

"What does your PO have to do with it?"

"Kyle said that he screwed up with Ms. Adelaide. He was scared," the kid said, finally talking normally without the threat of crying.

"Scared to go back to prison?"

"No, he said he didn't care if he went back to prison. He was scared that he messed up with Ms. Adelaide."

Brad really wished Marcus would stop saying her name. The way he said it made it sound dirty instead of the beautiful name it was. "So he was acting physically afraid of his PO?"

"I don't know. He said he messed up and he was worried they were going to come after him. I need you to tell her that I haven't screwed up and Kyle didn't tell me anything," he pleaded yet again.

"It sounds like he thought she was going to violate his parole," he replied, refusing to believe that Officer St. James would be involved in any sort of physical threat to a felon.

"Maybe, I don't know. He just said that he wasn't scared to go to prison. I guess he could have been talking a good game but I don't know."

"Was he using drugs again?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"I don't know. We don't talk outside of work. It's a violation," Marcus told him.

Finally Brad heard a vehicle come screeching to a halt at the entrance to the alley. The click of high heeled shoes told him Jen had finally found them.

"Jesus Christ, Fortune!" she was yelling. "I had no idea where you were!"

Brad wanted to say that if she had ditched the heels and the phone, she might have been able to keep up. Instead he handed her Marcus' ID, asked her to run his name and check for warrants. When his check came back clear, Brad released him from the cuffs. He took some pedigree information and was not sure why he was surprised when Marcus said he didn't have a phone number. Brad told Marcus they would be in touch. Brad got in the car with Jen and filled her in on the conversation with Marcus.

"Sounds like the vic was on a one way train back to prison," Jen said.

"Yeah," Brad hesitantly agreed. "It's just...the amount of fear Marcus was displaying of Officer St. James makes me wonder."

"You think she's dirty?"

"No," he said immediately. "Kyle must have been into something harder than Marcus thought."

He tried to work through the implications in his mind but he kept coming down on the side of Adelaide St. James having nothing to do with it. Rationally, his detective mindset should have kept the possibility of corruption open to him, but his male mindset had overshadowed his detective mindset for the first time he could ever remember. He checked his watch and noticed that he and Jen needed to get down to the ME's office to watch the autopsy. He told Jen such and got in the passenger seat of their vehicle.

"You know, it could have been helpful if you had called out your location so I could find you," she lectured as she drove. Brad bit his tongue so he wouldn't remind her that she was texting while he was investigating. "Anyway, I think we should keep the PO open as a possibility. Who knows what goes on in that office?"

Brad shook his head. "I can't see it," he told her. Officer St. James' notes were impeccable from what he had quickly scanned before talking the McDonald's manager. She seemed involved. She cared about the victim. No, he couldn't reconcile her with a dirty PO.

"You can't see anything past her tits," Jen accused.

Brad's face immediately flushed red. "That's crude," he said, calmly. "She was being helpful and you were hindering the investigation."

"Oh for God's sake. She's a glorified pencil pusher. She doesn't know anything about him but what he puts in front of her for twenty minutes once a month. If she knew anything about him, she probably could have prevented this from going down."

"That's unfair. You heard her; she has 97 people on her caseload. You think if you were working 97 homicides at once, something wouldn't slip through?"

Brad should have been letting this go; he should not have been defending her as hard as he was. Yet, he kept it up. He wasn't sure why. He glanced at Jen, who had gone oddly quiet, just in time to see her unbutton an extra button on her blouse exposing an indecent amount of cleavage. Brad snapped his head back to look straight out the window. What the hell was happening?

"Something might slip through," she said.

Her voice had gone low and when Brad chanced a glance, she was sliding her fingers into her shirt. He had never been so glad to arrive at a place where he was supposed to watch someone cut into a dead body. He practically jumped out of the vehicle before Jen had completely stopped. He couldn't handle Jen this way. He hadn't much thought about the fact that she had never hit on him, but he didn't realize how awkward it would be to be on the receiving end. And, she was hitting on him. He couldn't be mistaken about that. She wasn't exactly subtle.

Jen caught up with Brad at the front door of the building. She winked at him as she walked in ahead of him. Brad was pretty damn ashamed that his eyes dropped to her ass as she walked. He was also pretty surprised when he immediately compared it to Officer St. James. Officer St. James came out on top by a long shot even though Brad knew that might not be the popular opinion.

"Hey Mike," Jen was saying as Brad pushed the door open to the autopsy room.

"Beautiful," Mike greeted her.

He had already started on the autopsy. The chest cavity on the victim was already open and several organs removed. Typically, Brad wasn't exactly happy to witness an autopsy, but today he was making sure he looked nowhere else. Free of blood, Kyle's injuries were clearer. He had been beaten so hard that in many places his bones had been pulverized. There wasn't much that Mike could do to clean up the face. It was gruesome. Drained of his blood, the pale hue of his skin created hollows in Kyle's face that were absolutely haunting. Mike was unable to close the eyelids all the way due to the pre-mortem swelling, which was a sight Brad would have a hard time removing from his memory.

"Have you got anything for us yet?" Brad asked, trying to divert his attention toward the facts of the case. "Recent drug use?"

"Tox screen won't be back for a few days, but I checked for needle marks and couldn't find any. You have a drug in mind?"

"No, not really. Don't know his drug of choice, yet."

"Well he's on paper, right? Ask his PO, they know 'em best," Mike said cheerily as he removed a length of intestine.

Brad leveled a glare at Jen. "Unfortunately we couldn't get that far with the PO," he said.

Jen rolled her eyes. "I'd just check for it all, Mike. No needles probably means smoking something."

"Well that I can tell you in just a minute," he replied. "I was right before. A rib was cracked and pierced the lung. I was just about to remove a section and it should be easy enough to tell if he was a smoker."

"Thanks. Anything else?"

"Well, his fingernails were clean, so your perp didn't get close enough for the vic to get a piece of him. His fingers were mostly broken. Defensive wounds. His forearms are broken. Most likely he used them to shield his face," Mike told them. He dumped the intestine in a sterile metal bowl creating a cringing plop sound and held up his arms, his left forearm crossed over the right. "Something like this probably. Once his arms were broken, his face was fair game as you can see."

"Any word on the murder weapon?" Brad asked.

Mike turned around and grabbed a small glass jar with an evidence tape seal around it. He held it up for Brad and Jen to see. "I took wood splinters out that were imbedded in the skin. It looks like treated wood like in furniture or baseball bats."

"Would a test tell us for sure?" Jen wanted to know.

"Most likely, but it probably wouldn't be right away." Mike set down the jar and went to the sink in the corner. He removed his gloves and started washing his hands. "The vic was alive the whole time. It doesn't appear that there was much after kill. Once he was dead, the perp stopped hitting him. It took awhile. Death was probably more like late Friday night, early Saturday morning."

"I thought you said that it was Saturday into Sunday?" Jen snapped. "We have to redo our canvass."

"I'll do it," Brad told her to placate her temper. "I want to talk to the neighbors myself anyway."

"Sorry," Mike said. "The air conditioner must have been running off and on until it broke. The body heated and cooled more than once. The TOD is approximate, not an exact science."

"Don't worry about it Mike," Brad told him. "Nobody was talking yet anyway. I'll go back with this new time frame and see what I can shake out." He glared at Jen again. She was in rare form, alienating everyone.

"He had steak and potatoes partially digested in his stomach. Not a bad last meal if you ask me," he told them. Brad found that interesting seeing as Kyle had no money that they had located and turkey and beer in the fridge.

Mike was putting new gloves on and went back to the body. He removed a piece of the lung and put it on a slide. He moved to a microscope and looked through the lens. "I'm seeing some signs of smoke inhalation."

"See, I knew it," Jen said. "Most people without needle marks are smokers."

"Well," Mike started. "I'm showing some recent smoke inhalation. It doesn't look chronic. His lungs are fairly healthy. A tobacco smoker, and especially meth and crack smokers would have scarred lungs, black and discolored. This lung looks pretty average to me. I can see some of the alveoli have signs that he was smoking just prior to when he stopped breathing."

"Could be how the perp got the drop on him," Brad thought out loud.

Jen's phone rang and she stepped out to answer it, leaving Brad to his thoughts. There was something different about the attack. It was brutal but did not seem as intimate as he had first thought. Maybe it was seeing it in the clinical atmosphere of the autopsy room, but the kill seemed more efficient than rage induced. Someone wanted to end this man's life, painfully. The absence of overkill was telling as well. The attacker hit him until he was dead, meaning that he or she had control. A hit? A robbery? A drug deal gone wrong? There was next to nothing in the small apartment and Brad had yet to decide if that meant the vic owned nothing or had it all stolen.

Jen pushed the door halfway open. "They got some fingerprints and the phone LUDS back. Let's head back over to the station," she told him and walked out.

"You'll forward me the report?" Brad asked.

"You got it, brother. See you on the next one," Mike said as he went back to the body.

Brad met Jen back at their car and made absolutely sure that he did not glance at her chest even once while she was driving them back to the station. She hadn't re-buttoned her blouse and being in close quarters with her was getting uncomfortable. He wasn't going to be able to work with her this way. He knew he needed to address the situation and end it before it got out of hand, but Brad was a wimp. He couldn't go to his boss about it because everyone in the station would find out. They already had a running joke that Brad was waiting for the police chaplain to quit so he could take over.

It didn't take a detective to see that he hadn't dated much or at all really. But, he didn't need to. He was fine taking care of business on his own especially since he only attracted gold diggers and completely damaged women. He had made enough mistakes in his life to realize that he was better off alone. Jen would be no different. She thought she was special because she knew about his past, but most women he slept with knew some version of his past. It caused certain limitations in the bedroom. Jen had dug up the police reports when his mother had died a year and a half ago. He refused to take his bereavement leave and did not attend the funeral. Jen had not let up on him until she found the police reports that were decades old. She was probably just waiting to use it against him, but she hadn't said much of anything about it since she read them. He was eternally grateful to her for that small mercy.

Jen pulled into the parking structure and found their designated spot. She put the car in park and Brad reached for the handle to step out when he felt her hand land on his knee. His heartbeat picked up a nervous pace. He looked at her hand and then at her.

"So," she started.

Brad cleared his throat and quickly opened the door. "So," he said, but his voice broke. "Let's see what they found on the phone." He stepped out of the car and out of her reach. He could tell that he was sweating under his suit coat and his face was probably bright red again.

"Jesus, Brad," Jen was laughing. "I knew you were out of practice, but damn."

"Jen," he said roughly, using the car to keep distance between them. "This isn't the time or the place. You're my partner. We can't do that."

"Oh come on. Now that I know your dick points at woman, I think we could be beneficial to each other. I mean we spend enough time together."

Brad was stunned. Why was she hitting on him? He was not attractive, not for her. He couldn't understand what was going on. "It's unprofessional," he managed to say.

"But it's not unprofessional to stare at the PO's tits while interviewing her?" she scoffed.

Was she jealous? Because he had unwittingly looked at Officer St. James' chest? He was out of his element here. He had never been pursued so blatantly. And, he had no interest in Jen. Maybe if she hadn't slept with half the department, but even then. She just didn't make his pulse race. He had only felt that sensation once and it had been earlier that day.

"I wasn't," he snapped.

"Whatever. Brad, you don't have to be scared to let me see. I already know it's there," she said, almost softly.

Brad's jaw clamped shut. She had said the absolute worst thing she could have said. "Shut up," he said through clenched teeth. "We are partners and that's all there will ever be." He turned away from her, willing himself to calm down. She would bring that up to coerce him. Sometimes he hated Jen. He heard her say:

"We'll see."

She followed him into the station and they parted ways at their cubicle wall for the time being. Brad wished he had a door he could shut just for a few minutes so he could compose himself. Instead he dove head first into the phone report that was sitting in his tray. The phone was a throw away and all text messages had been deleted. IT was unable to retrieve anything from the phone since throw away phones don't have a provider that keeps backlogs. It stood to reason that the fact the phone had been clear of blood and had no text messages meant the killer had been the one to erase them. So, the killer had known the victim enough to text. The saved contacts were sparse. Kyle's brother Jake, McDonald's, and a few first name only people that they would have to work on tracking down. The incoming calls were largely from the Parole Office.

Two sets of prints had been identified. Matt Ludke and Jim Reynolds. There was no Jim in the phone but there was a Matt. A check of Matt Ludke revealed that he was also on paper. There was no parole officer listed. He was serving the rest of his sentence for Murder 1st on paper. The last arrest showed his address in the same apartment complex as Kyle but did not give an apartment number. He would check on that with the apartment manager when he re-canvassed the next day. Jim Reynolds had been on supervision but he had been discharged about four months prior. He had since fallen off the radar.

Brad's desk phone rang and he answered it with, "Fortune."

"Hey detective, Mike Miller. Just wanted to let you know that I rolled the vic's fingerprints and you got your ID. It is Kyle Alton so you can do the notification now," he told him.

Brad looked at the clock. Just enough time to get to the prison before they sat them down for dinner. "Thanks, Mike."

"No problem, it's on your fax."

Brad hung up and went to check the fax machine. The confirmation was there as well as another hit from the fingerprint analysts. They had identified another set of fingerprints. Adelaide St. James. Brad sucked in a breath. His mind flitted momentarily to the corruption angle before he shook his head at himself. No, not her, he told himself firmly. He swiped the paper off the fax machine and put it under the stack on his desk, just in case Jen found it and didn't necessarily agree that Officer St. James was innocent. But, maybe he'd have to go back to her office for an alibi. He'd go alone for that one.

He knocked on Jen's cubicle wall. "They got a firm ID on the body, it's Kyle Alton. I'm headed to the prison to notify his mother. You coming?"

"Might as well," she replied as she licked her lips.

Brad turned away abruptly and prayed that he'd make it through the rest of the day in one piece.

The notification went about as well as expected for telling a woman in prison that her son was murdered. Kyle's mother was not all that motherly. She had told Brad to go fuck himself and asked about insurance money. Warm. Jen had continued to come on to Brad all the way back to the station, although she was being a little more subtle. As soon as they dropped off the old Ford, Brad was in his BMW and on his way home. He couldn't stand the tension between him and Jen. He wanted it to go back to the way it was; when she thought he was gay, apparently.

Well he definitely wasn't gay. Not if the painfully hard erection he was sporting had anything to do with it. He had been lying in bed, alone as usual and for some reason he couldn't get Adelaide St. James out of his mind. Was she a corrupt officer? Did she have something to do with Kyle's death? Why did she capture his attention so completely? Sleep was hard to come by, but Brad was finally able to slip under.

CHAPTER THREE

WEDNESDAY

Adelaide was standing in front of one of her client's apartments, knocking on the door. He had said just a minute about five minutes ago. She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest, trying to stretch her neck. It had been a long night. She couldn't stop thinking about Kyle Alton and the detectives who were investigating the case. The female detective was a bitch. She was the very definition of what female officers were stereotyped. She had known in two seconds that Detective Spring wasn't going to give her the time of day. But Detective Fortune was a different story all together. When she laid eyes on him it felt like all the air had left her lungs. She had never found herself so immediately and entirely attracted to someone in her life. There was something about him that appealed to her on a level that she had been ignoring for years.

It had been three years since she even had anything that could be misconstrued as sex. Prior to that, her life was nothing to write home about. She had spent most of her time trying to forget that she even had a life before she arrived in Elko, Nevada. It seemed like the best place to settle. It wasn't too big, it wasn't too small and she felt like she could fit in. And, it was far away from Joliet, Illinois. Since she had put everything behind her, she had focused only on herself and her dog, affectionately named Rush after the gorgeous Georges St. Pierre. Rush was just as much of a fighter as St. Pierre. But, for the first time in those three years, someone new was on her mind. Detective Fortune. The scar on his face was intriguing. Adelaide had thought about it while lying in bed the night before. Inexplicably her mind had started to wonder what that scar would feel like against her own lips. Previously she thought cold showers were only for men. Last night she found out that wasn't true.

Adelaide was running out of patience for her client behind the door who was clearly trying to hide anything and everything before answering the damn door. She suddenly regretted telling her partner Richard that she could handle this one while he used the restroom. She pounded on the door again and finally John answered it.

"Ms. Adelaide, hey. What's up?"

Adelaide blew out an exaggerated sigh. Not at his greeting. She had made her peace with the fact that most of her clients addressed her like a preschool teacher. But, John had probably hidden every item that could even be remotely considered contraband and then answered the door with a joint stuck behind his ear. Adelaide took a step back and reached behind her for the handcuffs that she kept tucked in her back.

"John, turn around and put your hands behind your back," she ordered him.

"What? What for?" he exclaimed.

"We'll talk about it after you do it."

"Ms. Adelaide, I didn't do nothing," he told her.

She sighed and reached up to pluck the joint from behind his ear. His eyes widened and Adelaide saw the telltale signs of flight. She took a step back, ready to set off after him when suddenly he threw a punch. She had read him wrong and wasn't entirely ready for it. Yet she was able to crouch down in time. The punch sailed over her head and John took off.

Brad had been going door to door since early morning in the apartment complex. Armed with the new time of death, he was determined to find someone who had heard something. Jen hadn't been wrong about being in Cons R Us. No one was talking. Brad was persistent but he pretty much got the same story from everyone. Despite the fact that the walls in the dump were paper thin, no one "heard nothing at no time of no day." He had just turned the corner of the apartment complex to start talking to the people who had apartments that backed up to Kyle's apartment when he stopped dead in his tracks. His heart picked up the pace and suddenly he was sweating.

There she was. Adelaide St. James. Her clothes were tighter today. He could tell that from a distance. She was the picture of femininity. She was wearing a tight white button down long sleeve shirt. Her right side held her weapon which Brad found incredibly attractive. She wore tight black dress pants and rounded off the entire set with a pair of what looked to be combat boots. She wasn't messing around. Her hair was up in the ponytail again and the sunlight made it look redder than it was. His mouth was suddenly way too dry. She was standing outside an apartment, knocking. He started to walk toward her, not really sure what he was going to say when he got there.

Before he got close to her, the door she was standing in front of swung open and a man stepped out. Brad wasn't close enough to hear the conversation but he watched as she stepped back and reached for what looked like handcuffs. Reading her body language, Brad realized that she was trying to affect an arrest on her own. He was immediately walking toward her again. Was she out of her mind? The man she was talking to was a good eight inches and 80 pounds bigger than her. If the man wanted, he could probably crush her to dust. Where the hell was her backup? Brad's heart had unwillingly started to race. Then, it nearly stopped as he watched the man take a swing at her. Something in him snapped; pent up anger that he had never released before. Pure instinct guided him as he took off in a dead sprint and tackled the man before he even took ten steps away from Adelaide

Adelaide had just come out of her crouch to start chasing down John when out of absolutely nowhere Detective Fortune tackled him. Holy shit! What was he doing here? Where did he come from? And why was her immediate thought that she was glad to see him? She watched as he efficiently subdued her client, rolled him on his stomach and placed handcuffs on him with what appeared to be little to no effort. She was stunned into silence. Her only thought was that he looked so damn good. She should have been having a slew of thoughts; front and center should have been that her client just tried to strike her. Yet, she was completely focused on trying to gauge how solid Detective Fortune's chest would be underneath that suit coat. She felt herself shaking a bit as energy coursed through her.

"Officer St. James, are you ok?" Brad asked, breathing a little harder. Up close, she was more stunning than he remembered. Dammit.

"Detective Fortune. Where did you come from?" she asked after she found her voice. She forced herself to relax, trying to work through the unused adrenaline dump. Her pulse was racing, but she wasn't sure that Detective Fortune wasn't partly to blame for it.

"Follow up for Kyle. Are you ok?" he asked again.

"She's fucking fine," John huffed from beneath him. He struggled against Brad's hold.

Brad dug his elbow in the center of his back to keep him down. "You move a muscle and I will break your fucking arms," he hissed.

Brad rarely cussed. He rarely made threats. But, this man had tried to put hands on Officer St. James and Brad found that unforgiveable. He didn't understand the protective instinct he was feeling but he wasn't dumb enough to try and fight it. No one was going to touch that woman on his watch.

"Officer St. James?" he asked again. She was staring at him but he didn't think she was aware of it. His words seemed to jolt her out of her haze.

She shook her head to clear it. She hadn't thought that Detective Fortune was so rough. He came off very calm and unassuming. His partner was the one she expected to be threatening to break someone's arms. "Adelaide, please," she corrected him. "I'm fine. He missed."

Brad nodded and pulled out his cellphone to call for a marked unit to take John into custody. He pulled John to his feet and shoved him down on the brick retaining wall. Just then a man about Adelaide's age came running up. He grasped her by the shoulders and Brad's jaw immediately clenched. He didn't know who the man was but he didn't want him touching her.

"Oh my God, Adelaide, what happened? Are you ok?" Richard asked, holding her at an arm's length as though he was checking for injury.

"I'm fine, Rich. You missed all the action. My unfortunate client here answered the door with a joint behind his ear. Then instead of coming into custody with me, he decided to throw a punch. Detective Fortune was here on follow up for my previous client and happened to come along at the right time." Adelaide smiled at Brad. The smile really lit up her features. He wanted to see more of that.

"I'm so sorry," Richard said, guilt written all over his face.

Adelaide started to wave away his guilt when Brad snarled, "Where the hell were you?"

He hung his head. "Bathroom," he said, ashamed. "Adelaide, damn, I'm so sorry. I don't know what I would have done if you had gotten hurt."

Brad's chest flared with jealousy. He wanted that man to feel bad, to know that he screwed up. But he didn't want the man to care about Adelaide. That's my job.

Woa, where did that come from? That wasn't his job and even if it was, she probably wouldn't want him. The marked car pulled up and an officer exited. He walked up to Brad, pulling out handcuffs and switching them out.

"What's the charge, Detective?" the patrolman asked.

"Assault on law enforcement," he replied.

"Could you add a possession charge on that?" she asked as she presented the joint. "Found it behind his ear."

Brad smiled at her. "Add possession," he told the patrolman.

Once the patrolman and John were gone, Richard said, "We better get going A. Jack is going to want our incident reports. He's going to tear me a new one."

The familiar term Richard was using bothered Brad on a scale that shouldn't have meant anything to him. Before he could think to stop himself, he blurted out, "I need Officer St. James to stay."

Adelaide whipped her head around to look at him. He was blushing and his scar stood out like a lightning bolt. She refrained from licking her dry lips as she stared at the spot the scar contacted his lips.

"I need a written statement," he lied, knowing full well that he just wasn't ready to leave her side yet.

"Oh ok. I can wait," Richard said. "I'll just drive you back when you're done."

"Or I can take you," Brad said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he held his breath. Was he coming off as a lovesick teenager or what?

Adelaide narrowed her eyes at him as though she were trying to figure something out. Without taking her eyes off him, she said to Richard, "You can go on without me." She then turned to look at Richard. "I can't deal with Jack right now anyway."

"I don't know how you deal with him at all. Alright, I'll head back and tell them you're with the police," he replied. He looked to Brad. "You're sure you don't mind dropping her off?"

"I've got it," he answered gruffly. Leave.

"Alright, see you back at the office," he told Adelaide before walking off.

"So," Adelaide started. She was secretly pleased that she had to stay behind. Detective Fortune seemed to want her around, but she wasn't sure that she was reading him correctly. He probably just needed her statement about the weed she found on John.

"Who's Jack?" Brad asked, stalling for time.

"He's my supervisor. The one that brought you to my office yesterday," she told him.

"You don't like him?"

Adelaide avoided the question, not wanting to bad mouth her boss in front of a veritable stranger. "So, do I need to write out my statement?"

Brad's face flushed again. He had lied to her. He didn't even have any statement forms to pretend what he said was true. "I...uh..." he stammered. "I don't have any statement forms."

"Oh.." Adelaide said slowly. Did he just want her to stay behind for no reason? Maybe she wasn't crazy. Maybe he did want her around. But that couldn't be the case. She was not beautiful. She was cute, maybe pretty on a good day. But she was nothing compared to the blonde explosion, Detective Spring. He was used to looking at that woman every day. Adelaide couldn't compare to that.

Great, he was coming off as a bumbling moron. He just wanted to talk to her but he didn't even know how to go about doing that. She was looking at him like he was a nutcase. He needed to cover. "I'm sorry. I don't know, I was just thrown off seeing you here and that guy throwing a punch at you startled me. I was here and I was looking for witnesses and waiting for the manager to come in so that I can find out about Jim Reynolds and Matt Ludke. And I was..."

"Matt Ludke?" Adelaide interrupted him.

He paused. "Yeah. The name mean something to you?"

"Yes," she said.

He waited but she didn't say anything more. He knew the trick. He used it on his own interviews. If only the question was answered, someone would fill the dead air. It was a good way to get a confession. She was sizing him up, waiting for more information before she revealed anything she knew.

Finally he relented. "His fingerprints were in Kyle's apartment." Her shoulders slumped. "What?" he asked.

"Well, Detective Fortune.."

"Brad," he interrupted.

She smiled. "He's mine. He better have a damn good explanation as to why he was associating with Kyle."

Brad suddenly had an idea. Probation and Parole Officers had significantly more constitutional leeway when it came to felons. "You want to go talk to him with me?"

She smiled again. "Sure, he can answer both our questions." She kept herself calm as she walked with him toward Matt's apartment. Inwardly she was excited that she was back in the thick of things. She missed the hunt. She missed this part of her life.

Brad let her lead the way since she had been there before. "Thank you for the help," he told her as they walked. He fought the urge to reach out and take her hand, or put his hand on the small of her back. But, damn did he want to touch her.

"Anytime, detective," she replied.

"Brad," he corrected her again.

She nodded. "So how's the investigation going?" she asked, hoping she wasn't coming across as too eager.

"It's going alright. It would have been better if Jen hadn't been insufferably rude to you. We would have known a lot faster that Kyle was a smoker and not an IV user, things like that."

Adelaide stopped walking. "He wasn't a smoker," she told him matter of factly.

"The ME found signs of smoke inhalation," he told her, his eyebrows drawn together at her vehemence. This is why he needed to talk to her without Jen around. He would have been so much further along in the investigation if she hadn't been so dismissive.

"No, he was into pills. Oxys, vicodin, ecstasy sometimes, but he would never smoke," she contradicted him.

"Why not?" He was officially intrigued.

"His father, his real father died of emphysema. His step dad was...well he was an asshole. Kyle never smoked ever. He had been close to his dad when he was young. I don't know if you found out yet but his mom and his step dad are incarcerated. His brother is also on parole," she explained.

He nodded at her, impressed by the caring in her voice. "I notified his mother yesterday."

"I bet she cared a whole lot," she replied sarcastically.

"She wasn't very motherly," he confirmed.

Adelaide sighed and continued walking along to Matt's apartment. Brad dropped in step with her. "No one cared about Kyle. No one gave a shit about what happened to him, but he had changed things around on his own. Damn him," she mumbled.

She was upset and Brad's instinct was to comfort her. He stopped just short of reaching out and touching her arm. "Hey, I care about what happened to him," he assured her. "I'll find out who did this."

"I hope so," she said, sadly.

She was tugging at her ponytail again. Brad took note that she seemed to do that when she was stressed out. She stopped in front of an apartment. She tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder and straightened her spine. She was back in character. He realized that she had let her guard down for just a few seconds in front of him. He wanted to see it again, although the tough PO persona she was currently sporting definitely had his mind revving with fantasies. He shook his head to clear it. He needed to get back into focus, just like her.

"Here we are," she told him.

She stepped to the side and knocked on the door. There was no answer and no sign of movement. She placed her hand over the peephole and leaned into the door to listen. There was no sound. She reached for the doorknob and twisted but it was locked.

"Can you get the manager to unlock it?" he asked.

"Sorry, the client has to open up and step aside, but the landlord doesn't have to let us in. I could try again later, if you want."

Her phone rang, making her jump a little. She smiled embarrassedly at Brad as she walked away to answer it.

Brad didn't even pretend to himself that he wasn't going to listen in, but he pretended to keep his distance.

"Hey, Jack...No, no I'm fine. I promise, not a scratch on me......Yeah, I'm just here with the detective filling out forms."

Brad was stunned. She lied to her boss. Did that mean that she was actually enjoying being with him? Did she want to be there as much he wanted her there? It couldn't be. She probably thought he was a mangled freak like most everyone else thought.

"Yep. I'll be back before the day is out.....as soon as I'm finished." She laughed but it was forced. "Ok, bye." She walked back over to Brad. "Sorry, that was my boss. I told him I'd be back when we finished here." She reached out and tried the doorknob again but it didn't budge. "Well, I guess we're finished," she said with a hesitant smile.

Brad returned the smile but he was not happy. He was enjoying Adelaide's company and he didn't want it to be over yet. He didn't want to telegraph his feelings, however so he started walking back to his car without looking at her. His mind kept trying to find different ways to stall their departure but for a pretty good detective, his mind had gone blank. He was just cursing himself out in his head when he felt her hand land on his arm. He swore his heart stopped beating and every nerve end in his body tingled, just from her light touch. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked down at her.

"I couldn't keep up," she told him. Brad had practically been power walking. Her 5'5 frame couldn't keep up with his over 6 foot stride.

"My pace or my whit?" he joked and then immediately looked like he regretted it.

Adelaide smiled at him. He was very cute, almost like a nerdy teenager who didn't know how to speak to girls. The entire package was endearing. When she first saw him, his size had alarmed her, but then his personality was almost...meek. Until she saw him tackle her client. She couldn't effectively read him and that really intrigued her. He was a detective, of course. Trained in adapting. Maybe all this time that she was trying to read him, he was reading her and making changes accordingly. That was an unnerving thought.

They made it to the car and Brad opened the door for her. Adelaide was pretty sure that no man had ever opened a door for her. She had heard about such things in cheesy romance novels that she would never read. Ok, she read a few when she wanted remind herself that the entire world didn't suck. But, she had never received any kind of treatment like that in real life. Did guys really do that or did he have some kind of ulterior motive?

Adelaide had thanked him when he opened the door for her but her voice was shocked. She was looking at him warily. Damn, had no one ever opened a door for her? He hoped that if she had a boyfriend, he treated her well. A boyfriend. Great, he hadn't even considered that. He had noticed that her hands were free of rings the day before, but his own narcissism hadn't even allowed him to think of that until that moment. Of course she had one. No one as lovely as her would not have a boyfriend. The revelation soured his mood which is why the car ride was mostly quiet.

"So.." Adelaide said, filling the dead air. Brad looked like he was brooding. His eyebrows were drawn together which highlighted the split in his left one from the scar. She wanted to reach up and smooth it.

Instead of finding any safe topic to land on, Brad ended up say, "So, isn't it a little unsafe to walk up to a felon's door alone. Especially when he even outweighs you?"

The accusing tone in his voice caught her off guard. Did he just insult her skills as a PO and kind of call her fat? She crossed her arms in front her. Jerk. "I should say the same to you," she snapped at him.

"Well, I'm a m.." he stopped short. He heard the sting in his voice and she had already snapped at him, deservedly so. He didn't want to make a bigger mistake just because she was taken already.

She whipped her head around to look at him so fast her eyes had to catch up. "You're a man?" she finished for him.

He had a bad habit of going quiet when he needed to be saying something. She shook her head, looking pissed off. They pulled up in front of her office and she got out before he could even open his door.

"I guess if you need my constitutional leeway, call me," she huffed. Otherwise, bite me. She shut the door and turned around without a good-bye.

Brad felt like a royal jackass. He had insulted her and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He was an asshole. He couldn't think about anything else as he turned around and went back to the apartment complex to finish his canvas and speak to the landlord again. He basically had treated Adelaide just like Jen had. She'd probably never talk to him again. What probably? She'd for sure never talk to him again. And, she shouldn't. She deserved better treatment.

CHAPTER FOUR

Brad eventually caught up with Mr. Messer again who confirmed that Matt Ludke still lived at the apartment Adelaide had showed him. He then found records that Jim Reynolds used to inhabit Kyle's apartment so the fingerprints were accounted for. Brad headed back to the office to see if anything else had come through on the fingerprints. The photo evidence should have been ready and he could go through those to check his robbery theory. He also needed to track down Jake Alton. He would have to contact the Parole Officer for him. Too bad it wasn't Adelaide. At least then he'd have an excuse to talk to her again.

He had just settled into his desk chair to look up Jake Alton's PO when Jen appeared in his entryway. She was stirring coffee with a spoon and before she spoke she slid the spoon in her mouth and sucked on it. Brad glued his eyes back to his computer screen.

"Did you get anything from the canvas?" she asked.

"Not a thing," he replied.

"See, you should have listened to me," she sing-songed. "You should listen to me about a lot of different things."

Brad cleared his throat and went to work looking for the name of Jake's Parole Officer. Jen had sat down in the chair opposite his desk. He refused to look at her. Her hand landed on his on the computer's mouse. He froze but his body didn't ignite like it did with Adelaide's touch.

"Jen," he warned.

"It could be good," she persuaded.

He cleared his throat again as he withdrew his hand. He didn't want that slight stirring down south to get worse. "Any more fingerprints?" he asked.

"Other than your girlfriend's that you didn't mention?" she said with a knowing look.

Brad's jaw clenched. "Yeah, other than that," he replied, not bothering to play her game.

"Yeah, Jake Alton," she told him. "Just got it off the fax a few minutes ago."

"I was just tracking him down," he replied. "Photos come back yet?"

"On my desk." She stood up and stretched, pushing her chest out for his benefit. He looked away. "I'll just go get them."

"Yeah, thanks," he grumbled as she walked out.

She was back a few seconds later with a stack of 8x10s. "So what did the manager say?"

"He said Jim Reynolds used to live in the same unit so no big mystery on the fingerprints," he replied. He hadn't thought out how he was going to tell Jen that he ran into Adelaide.

"And Matt Ludke?"

"He lives in the complex. His officer is Adelaide also," he said quickly.

"Oh it's Adelaide now?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"I ran into her at the apartment complex. She was game to get us in if we can't get a warrant," he told her, refusing to make eye contact. He fought the flush to his face, not wanting Jen to see him getting worked up.

"So you just ran into her there?" she pressed.

"Yes, I happened to run into her just after one of her other clients took a swing at her. I placed him under arrest and she led me to Matt's apartment. She is being helpful, which she could have been yesterday if you had allowed it," he told her bluntly.

"She's probably a fucking badge bunny," she huffed. "Cop wannabe."

"She's just good at her job, Jen." He started to tell her to get over her prejudices but he knew it would be wasted breath. He took a deep breath instead. "Anything on the pictures that you noticed?"

"A shit ton of blood?"

"Yeah I got that," he replied. "I meant were there any clear lines in the blood where something might have been removed?"

"Not that I saw, but double check it for me."

"I will. I'm going to track down Jake first. Anything on recently released felons?" he asked her.

"I've got a list working, but I haven't gotten anything narrowed down yet. I talked to the COs and they said they don't really remember Kyle having problems with anyone. He has no gang tattoos and he was only in for about nine months this last stint. Not sure if that is enough time to make someone mad enough to murder him with a bat."

"It's a bat?" Brad asked. "Did the lab call about the splinters?"

"No, I was just assuming. What the hell else could it be?"

"I don't know, a cane?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so. Let me know if you find anything." She went to walk out but paused. "Or need anything," she added with a wink.

Brad rolled his eyes and went back to tracking down Jake's PO. He found the name and saw that the PO was out of a downtown office. He found the phone number and set up a meeting with the officer in the next hour. He probably could have gotten what he needed over the phone but he needed to get out of the office and away from Jen.

"I'm going to see if I can track down Jake Alton. If I get an address I'll swing back around and get you," he told her.

"Sounds good," she called from her seat.

Brad high tailed it out of there before she came up with anything else to say. He was early to meet Jake's PO, Bill Jenkins. He sat in the lobby with all the offenders and checked his phone. He was able to access his work email from the phone. He had an email from Mike Miller that the preliminary tox screen came back positive for opiates and meth. The blood screen and hair follicle tests would tell exactly what opiates.

"Detective Fortune," he heard from across the room. He looked up and saw a man about five years younger than him walking toward him. He was wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt. He looked much fitter than the typical PO. Brad was used to seeing older men who had let themselves go, but it looked like the job was changing. The man with Adelaide earlier had looked pretty fit as well. "So sorry I kept you waiting out here. Come on back to my office."

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Brad said as he followed the man.

"Anytime. So, you're here about Jake?" he asked as he sat on his side of the desk.

Brad took the chair opposite. The office was set up similar to Adelaide's. "Yes. His fingerprints were found in his brother's room."

"Crap," he sighed. "Does Adelaide know? I'm sorry, I mean Officer St. James."

Brad was taken aback. He hadn't thought about the possibility that they would know each other or be so familiar. "Yes, she does. Kyle was killed on Friday night into Saturday."

"Oh Jesus. I didn't know," he said as he sat back in his chair. "She's going to be devastated."

Brad crossed his arms and sat back in the chair, almost challengingly. "How's that?"

"Addy was really invested in Kyle. She called me when Kyle first came on her caseload probably about three years ago now. Anyway, she dropped a no contact order on Kyle; she wouldn't let him see Jake even though they are brothers. She asked if I would do the same. Now I'm going to have to find out what the hell Jake thought he was doing being around Kyle again." He sighed. "Is he a suspect?"

"Can't rule him out without talking to him," Brad replied. "Was he having trouble recently?"

"He's always trouble. He's a heroin addict and I can't get him to do anything. But, the prisons are full and he hasn't killed anyone. That I know of. So the Board won't take him back. I used to call Addy all the time and beg to trade brothers," he laughed.

The nickname did not sit well with Brad. He wanted him to back off even though he had no cause to be jealous. "So, this might sound odd, but did you ever notice that Kyle was afraid of her."

"Afraid of who?"

"Officer St. James," he said, emphasizing her title.

Bill outright laughed. "You're kidding right?" Brad raised his eyebrows as Bill continued to laugh. "You are barking up the wrong tree. Addy is a great officer. She protects the public by putting the right felons back in prison, not in body bags. Plus, Kyle was a special case to her. She called him her one success."

Brad nodded. He wanted to ask more questions about Adelaide but he refrained and steered the topic back to Kyle and Jake. "Where can I find Jake?"

"I can give you his address, but I don't have much luck finding him there. He hangs around crack houses or he's out shoplifting. The later in the day it gets, the more likely you'll find him there, but the less lucid he'll be. So it's a crap shoot."

"I understand. Were the brothers close, before the no contact order?"

"Well they caught a Robbery together, so I guess they were close. Jake hadn't said anything about Kyle in a long time. I know if Kyle had said anything about Jake, Adelaide would have called me," he replied. "Honestly, I can't see him doing it. He's so high all the time, I don't know if he'd be capable of murder."

"I appreciate the information," Brad said as he stood up to leave.

Bill handed him a card. "Anytime, call if you have any questions. And tell Adelaide..." he paused. "Nevermind, I'll call her myself."

Brad's jaw clenched tight as he nodded and walked out of the office.

******

When Adelaide returned to the office, Jack had fawned all over her as though she had been mauled by a tiger. She and Rich were chastised for splitting up during the home visit but that was the end of it. She didn't get written up and she was fully expecting to, especially with Jack. But, she did have to write out an incident and arrest report. She took her time writing it and shut her door, hoping that Jack would take the hint and leave her alone to write. She read it over a couple times and always got caught on the part where Detective Fortune, Brad, came out of nowhere. He had been almost protective of her. But then he turned into a jerk. She sighed. It wasn't unusual that she'd be attracted to a jerk. No, it was downright predictable.

Oh well. It was fun to think about for about two seconds. She shouldn't have been thinking about it anyway. One of her clients was murdered and another one was a potential suspect. She needed to get Matt in her office as soon as possible. He had better have a good explanation as to why his fingerprints were in that apartment. A knock on the door made her jump a little. When was she going to get rid of that startle reflex? She checked the clock and noticed that it was getting somewhat late. Jack probably needed her report.

"Come in," she called as she stood up, scanning the report once more quickly. The door opened and she said, "I was just looking it over one last time." She looked up and abruptly stopped talking. She immediately felt light headed. "Detective Fortune," she said, stunned.

"Brad," he corrected. "May I come in?"

He had left the other Parole Office and intended to go back to the station. Instead, he had driven to Adelaide's office. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he couldn't stand the thought of her thinking he was an asshole.

Adelaide nodded at him and sat back down in her chair. "What can I do for you?"

He looked down so she wouldn't see the look on his face as he listed plenty of things she could do for him in his head. "I wanted to apologize. For what I said I the car," he clarified. "I don't think men are superior to women. My partner is a woman and I think she is more than capable. I just didn't want you to think that I'm chauvinistic or that I thought less of you or..."

"Brad," she interrupted him. "It's alright, apology accepted." A smile hinted on her lips. She started to tug on her ponytail again. "I know your partner doesn't believe POs really do anything, but I knew Kyle pretty well. So if you need anything, just ask."

"She doesn't mean to be rude. Well, maybe she does, but she feels like she has to be. Sometimes women police officers come across harsher because they feel that's the only way to be taken seriously," he tried to explain to her. He didn't want to make excuses for Jen, but he wanted Adelaide to work with him.

"Yeah, no I understand. I used to be one," she said with a half laugh.

Her face immediately transformed into stunned horror. Brad could tell that she hadn't meant for that information to slip out. She looked absolutely mortified. Her face flushed red, her jaw clenched and she was pulling her ponytail so hard he thought she'd rip her hair out. He wasn't sure what he should do in the situation. He was very interested in the fact that she used to be a cop but he could tell questions would not be welcome. Yet, he threw one out there anyway.

"You were a cop? Here in Elko?" he asked.

"No, somewhere else. It doesn't matter, I just understand Detective Spring's attitude is all," she said quietly. He nodded and tried to think of something to say, but more questions he couldn't ask popped into his head. "So," she said, her voice stronger as she tossed the ponytail to her back. "Did you have any questions or did you just stop by to apologize?"

"Well now that you mention it," he started. "We found some fingerprints in the apartment." He tried to think of the best way to say it. "Um..yours."

She nodded. "I've been there for home visits," she said, not concerned. Brad was quiet and she laughed a nervous laugh to fill the air. "Next thing you know you'll be asking me for an alibi," she laughed.

Brad gave her a small smile. "Well..."

She narrowed her eyes at him and sighed. "Fine, what was the TOD?"

How had Brad missed the fact that she was a cop? The way she dodged the punch, the way she stood at the door in front of Ludke's apartment, she covered the peephole before leaning in so if he was on the other side of the door he wouldn't see her movements. She was speaking in cop lingo. They didn't teach that at PO school. Brad checked his notes quickly.

"Friday night into Saturday morning," he told her.

"Sorry, detective," she said. He noticed she had gone back to formalities. "You won't be able to rule me out. I'm always home alone on the weekends."

The admission shouldn't have meant anything to him on a personal level but it did. Of course it did. He had wanted to eliminate her out right though.

"I suppose I shouldn't be sticking my nose in your investigation any more than I have. I guess I'll contact my union rep."

"I don't think that's necessary," Brad interjected. "It was just a formality. I really do have some questions about your clients though."

"Ok," she agreed.

"I talked to Bill," he told her, watching carefully for her reaction.

"Bill..?" she led him.

"Jenkins," he said, somewhat gruffly without meaning to.

"Oh Bill," she said brightly. "You must have been talking about Jake." She smiled but it quickly dropped off her face. "Guess he won't be calling me to switch anymore."

"No, I suppose not," he replied sympathetically. "So, they were close? Bill says that Jake is always high."

"Jake couldn't get it together which is why I gave Kyle a no contact order. Jake was no good for Kyle. He was dragging him down," she explained.

"What about Matt Ludke? Is he another one that you thought could succeed?"

She looked like she was choosing her words carefully. "He could succeed," she finally said.

"You can say what you're thinking. I won't judge you for it," he assured her.

"Well, he was somewhat of a problem client. Our personalities clashed. I just told my supervisor last week that if Matt calls me a cunt one more time, I'm liable to flip out," she told him.

Brad's hands clenched at his sides. No one should say that to a woman like Adelaide. "He called you that?" he asked between his teeth.

"I've been called that many times, detective. It's like a second name."

"Who calls you that?" he asked, looking like he was going to take on her whole caseload.

She waved him off. "It's not important. I just don't see Matt doing this. He wasn't even into the harder drugs like most of my clients. He was a weed smoker but I'd say well over half are. And that's conservative."

Her phone chirped at her telling her that she had a text message. She glanced at it quickly and then did a double take. The color drained from her face and her eyes looked like saucers on her face. Brad was immediately concerned. He sat forward in his chair.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She blinked and focused back on him. Some of the color returned to her face and she carefully turned her features back to normal.

"Huh? Yes I'm fine," she said, still distracted.

"I see. Well, can you think of anything else that would help out my investigation?" he asked, once again stalling his departure.

"Umm," she mumbled, chewing her bottom lip.

Brad was humiliated to feel his body start responding to the sound. He started to get hard and was grateful that his suit coat would hide it. He shifted in his chair in a desperate attempt to adjust himself. Please don't notice, please don't notice, he chanted in his head.

"The smoking is very unusual," she finally said. "Very unsual."

He nodded. "I'll definitely look into it." He stood up, knowing that if he spent much more time with her in that tiny office, he'd do something he'd regret, like reach out and stroke her arm.

Adelaide followed him to the front of the office. This time she actually shook his hand and gave him her card. "Call if you need anything," she smiled.

He turned to leave and saw Bill Jenkins walking in the lobby. Jealousy flared and settled in the pit of his stomach. He could tell this was not going to be good. He despised the feeling immediately. He heard Adelaide's excited voice as she greeted him. Bill gave him an up nod which Brad returned on his way out. He couldn't stop himself from looking back. Adelaide had her arms wrapped around her waist and her body language was leaning away from Bill. He wondered if she was keeping her distance for any specific reason.

On his way back to the office, Brad got a phone call from the manager at the McDonald's where Kyle had worked. He wanted to know if Marcus had been taken into custody because he hadn't returned to work after running out. Brad assured him that Marcus wasn't in custody but then began wondering if maybe he should be. When he got back to the office he was going to put out a wanted for questioning to see if he could get any more information out of the kid. He pulled into the parking lot and jogged up the steps to his floor.

Once in his cubicle he called through the wall to Jen. "Marcus Cantrell never showed up to work after I questioned him."

"Who?" she called back.

"The kid from McDonald's. The one that worked with Kyle," he explained.

"Oh. Who gives a shit?" she asked.

"Maybe he ran because he knows something," he replied.

"Maybe he's dead, too," she retorted. "Why don't we just worry about this dead felon and then you can take on the rest of her caseload," she said nastily.

Brad took a deep breath so that he wouldn't snap at her. "Come on," he said tightly. "Let's go track down the brother. The PO said we might be able to find him at home but if so he's likely to be higher than a kite."

Jen appeared in the doorway. "Think he's capable of murder?"

"His PO didn't think so. Said he's usually too high to do much of anything."

Jen got her suit jacket and met him at the car. She was mercifully quiet for most of the ride, checking her phone for the majority of the time. When they pulled up to the address of the run-down apartment building, Brad noticed a person that looked a whole lot like Kyle's before photo sitting on the step. Jen approached him first, using her looks as a distraction so that he wouldn't run. Jake didn't make her for a cop so he stayed put.

"Jake Alton, right?" she asked him with a thousand watt smile.

He narrowed his eyes at her as he perused her body. "Yeah?"

She flashed her badge and before Jake had a chance to move, Brad dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk about your brother."

Jake scoffed and shrugged Brad's hand off his shoulder. "Heard he was dead. Made it longer than I thought," he replied.

"Lovely sentiment," Jen retorted. "You kill him?"

"Fuck you," he spat out.

"Well we've got your fingerprints in his apartment," Brad told him.

"So what? We used to hang out until I got a fucking no contact order from my asshole PO," he huffed.

"Yeah and we all know felons follow the rules," Jen replied.

"I don't want to rot in prison, bitch," he snapped.

"Watch your mouth," Brad growled at him.

"Yeah, better to rot on doorsteps," she laughed. "So why aren't you surprised he's dead?"

"Because he was a fuck up and on the run. Didn't you talk to his PO? He said that he was fucking up and he couldn't find him. Like I would know where the fuck he was," he told her.

"His PO isn't a he," Brad said.

"How high are you?" Jen asked.

"As high as they get. You gonna rat me out?" he laughed.

"I think your PO is well aware that you're as high as they get, dumbass." Jen turned to Brad. "This is a waste of time, let's go."

"Where were you Friday night into Saturday?" he asked Jake before they left.

"Are you fucking kidding? That's like asking me where I was last year on a Tuesday. I have no fucking clue. Passed out in an alley?"

Jen shook her head. "Thanks, you've been a huge pile of shit," she told him before getting in the car.

Brad handed him his card even though he knew it would be in the street before he turned around. "If you decide to care about your brother, call me."

"I do care, asshole. But he left me behind, so what goes around comes around."

Brad shook his head and got in the car with Jen. "So, you ready to pack it in for the night?" she asked, licking her lips. "Get a drink with me?"

"I'm not a big drinker," he replied and put the car in gear. He was going to drive as fast as he could to get back to the station.

"So, come out and watch me drink then. I get fun when I'm drunk," she told him. "Come on, Brad. It could be great," she nearly whined.

"Jen, I said I can't do it. You're my partner. I can't work with you if we...do that," he told her.

She pouted for most of the ride back to the station. Brad didn't even go back to his desk, instead jumping out of the Ford and into his personal vehicle to get away from her. By the time he got home he was starving. He had skipped lunch and it was almost 8:00pm. He needed to get a run in as well. It helped him clear his head. And, he needed it cleared. He needed to forget about Jen turning into a horny teenager and he desperately needed to forget about Adelaide. She was a huge distraction, one he couldn't afford. At least until the case was over. So he decided to put on his jogging clothes and go out for some food.

CHAPTER FIVE

Adelaide stood in front of her refrigerator looking at two cans of Diet Coke and a bottle of ketchup. Her mind kept wandering back to the text message. She couldn't believe that he found her number. She was fairly certain that he was bluffing when he said he was in town. He didn't mention which town so he was probably just trying to flush her out. She had made a life for herself in Elko and she wasn't about to be run out by a false threat. She sighed and reached for a Diet Coke when her dog Rush walked up to her. He snorted as though he was judging her late dinner.

"What?" she asked him. "Soda is perfectly acceptable for dinner." He walked off and returned with a leash in his mouth. She laughed. "Alright, alright. We are going out for dinner."

She changed into running pants and a long sleeve shirt even though it was warm. She stashed her gun in an ankle holster and set out for the pizza place two blocks away. They practically knew everything about her there, she was in so often. About ten minutes later she tied Rush's leash to the pole outside and walked in. The kid behind the counter greeted her right away.

"Hey Addy, large Hawaiian, right?' he asked her.

"You got it," she replied with a smile. "You mind..."

"Bringing it out to you? Nope, not at all," he told her, accepting her cash and starting on her pizza.

She went back outside and sat on the bench, petting Rush's head and alternatingly tugging on her ponytail. The text message nagged at her and almost made her stomach ache. She didn't want to let it stress her out, but she couldn't help it. Rush must have sensed her discomfort because as a jogger approached she could feel Rush tense and a low pitch growled emitted from his throat. She held to his collar and sucked in a breath. The jogger looked somewhat familiar. It can't be. It's just an empty threat. Panic edged into her senses. The jogger slowed down as he approached the pizza place and Adelaide's heart started racing. Rush stood to all four feet and Adelaide had to hold him back as she tried to hold onto her own control. If Rush thought she was in danger because of her reaction to a stranger, he would attack and she didn't want an innocent person to be hurt.

As the jogger got closer, Adelaide got a better look at him. She blew out the breath she was holding and suddenly her heart was racing for a different reason. Detective Fortune.

Brad was jogging to the pizza place that was about three blocks away from his house. As he approached he noticed a woman and a dog sitting on the bench outside. The closer he got, the more dangerous the dog appeared. He slowed down significantly, assessing the dog and hoping that he wasn't going to have to get his off duty weapon out from his waistband. As he got closer he shifted his glance to the woman to make sure she was not a threat as well and ended up getting the shock of a life time. Adelaide. Every nerve in his body came alive as he set eyes on her. He couldn't believe it. He had thought of little else, even the murder since he met her and there she was.

"Detective Fortune," she said. She shook her head. "I mean Brad, hi."

He took a step toward her. "Hi," he replied, trying like hell to think of something of substance to say. The dog growled and snapped at him. His hand instinctively reached for his weapon.

"Rush," Adelaide hushed him. She put her hand out, nervous that Brad would draw his gun. "It's ok, it's ok. He won't attack unless I'm in danger."

"He's very protective of you," he replied.

"Yes, very," she agreed. She pet Rush's head. "Shh," murmured to the dog. "He's safe."

"You think I'm safe?" he asked her playfully, surprised at himself for making the attempt at flirting.

She smiled at him. "I'm hoping so." She moved to one side of the bench and indicated that he should sit. "Late dinner for you, too?" she asked.

Brad cautiously walked around the dog, giving it a wide berth as it tracked every step he took. He sat next to her, careful to keep his distance. He looked at Adelaide. Her makeup was slightly smudged due to sweat. She was overdressed for the heat, he noticed. She even had tugged her sleeves down over her palms.

"Yeah, it was a long day," he replied.

Adelaide went to say something when she heard, "Addy, pizza's up!" from the door. She blushed, embarrassed. Brad probably thought that all she ate was pizza being on such familiar terms with the employee.

She got up with Rush on her heels. "Thanks, Ryan," she said as she took the pizza.

Brad stood up, disappointed. He had hoped that they could talk for a few minutes. He just felt better around her. More nervous and jittery for certain, but still...better. "Well," he started, giving her an out to walk away from him so it wouldn't get awkward.

"You want to share this with me?" she asked suddenly.

Brad was surprised and his flustered mind couldn't come up with the answer he wanted to say, which was, Hell yes. Instead he blabbered, "Oh I couldn't, I mean I wouldn't feel right, you don't have to do that, I should.."

"Brad, it's just pizza," she told him with a slight smile of amusement on her lips. She was enjoying watching him flounder for words.

"I wouldn't feel right making you pay," he finally said.

"Why, cause you're a man?" she quipped, poking fun at what he had said to her earlier. His face immediately heated. How come he came off as such an asshole around her? He really wasn't a bad guy.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm just joking. Honestly. I can't eat all this myself and I'd be insulted if you thought I could. So if you want, we can walk back to my house a couple blocks over and share it," she said calmly. Inside her nerves had her stomach turning in knots. She wanted him to come back to her house. She wanted to see if the attraction was mutual. And the practical side of her thought it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to share a meal with a cop, just in case those threats weren't as idle as she thought. He looked like he was trying to make a decision and a startling thought came to her. Maybe he wasn't available. That really broke her spirits. "Um..unless you have someone to get home to."

"No," he said immediately. He couldn't believe that maybe Adelaide was as interested as he was. Well probably not as interested, he didn't think anyone could be as interested as he was. She hadn't left his mind for more than a few minutes since he met her the day before. "I mean, no one to get home to," he clarified.

She smiled brightly. "Well, then what do you say?"

"Sounds great. But at least let me be a gentleman and carry the box," he insisted.

She rolled her eyes but was smiling as she handed it over to him. They walked quietly for awhile, Rush leading the way. "So, how's the case going?"

"No really great leads. Still waiting on the full report from the ME's office to see if we can't get any transfer evidence or DNA, but I'm not hopeful," he told her, grateful to be talking about something that he could articulate.

"Bill says you asked him if Kyle or Jake were afraid of me," she told him.

Brad winced. He should have known that Jenkins wouldn't keep his mouth shut. "I'm sorry, I have to investigate all angles," he explained. "I don't believe you had anything to do with it."

"Well that's comforting," she laughed lightly. She promptly sobered. "I really do hope you catch who did this. Kyle had a real shot."

"I'm doing everything I can," he assured her.

"I know you are." She walked up a driveway. "Here we are." He noticed her cheeks pinkened. She looked embarrassed. "It's not much," she said quietly. "But it's just me and Rush so we don't need anything big."

The house was small, almost cottage like; all brick with a small garden in front. It was cute, but definitely not the quality Brad was used to. And for that, he loved it. She bent down to untie a key out of her shoelaces, then unlocked the door. Of course, being the gentleman he was, his eyes never drifted south to the beautiful curve of her butt. He had absolutely not noticed that it looked like a perfect fit for his hands.

She ushered him inside and he was almost shocked at how small the house truly was. But, he didn't mind it one bit. It looked as though two people would have to be snuggled up on each other at all times in the house. And if that second person was Adelaide, he'd gladly trade his house in for this one. There was a small kitchen in front of him and living room to his left with a loveseat, coffee table and a TV. There was a hallway to his right which he assumed led to the bedroom. He quickly diverted his thoughts away from that avenue.

"Um, I don't have a kitchen table, so just make yourself at home on the couch," she told him as she took the pizza from him and set it on the coffee table. She walked off with Rush to put his leash away.

Brad took a seat on the couch and tried to take up as little room as possible. Despite the small size, Adelaide's décor was bright and big. She had eclectic taste, he noticed. She had French posters right along side patriotic pictures. He noticed that she had no pictures of her or her friends anywhere. That was odd for a woman. When she returned, she flopped down next to him with a sigh like she had been doing that every night for their whole lives.

"I'm beat," she said. She leaned forward and opened the pizza box. "Please eat or I'll be self-conscious eating by myself."

Brad admired the way that she seemed to be able to just say anything. He reached for a slice of pizza and didn't realize how hungry he was until he took his first bite. He basically inhaled it. He had just reached for his second slice when he felt her hand land on his knee. He swore an electric current ran straight from her touch to his groin.

"I'm sorry, I completely forgot to offer you something to drink," she said. "I'm afraid all I've got is water and Diet Coke."

By the grace of God he was able to answer her. "Water is fine."

She nodded and used his leg to brace herself as she stood up. Her hand had slipped further up his thigh and he was painfully aware that he was only wearing thin jogging shorts. He needed to calm himself down or she was liable to think that he was some freak show pervert. He quickly adjusted himself. He tried his best to tuck his emerging hard on into his waistband and cover it with his shirt. She returned with a glass of water for him and Diet Coke for herself. When she sat down, she was considerably closer than when she got up. Jesus, he needed to find a safe topic. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with what his mind was telling him to do, which was grab her face and kiss her senseless.

"So," he said, clearing his throat. "Why did you quit being a cop?"

He read her body language easy enough and felt terrible. He knew it was a prying question, but he wanted to know and it would take his mind off her body for a minute. She froze, her spine stiff and her jaw clenched. He was just about to retract the question when she said:

"I didn't. I was fired."

Just perfect. Why did she have to let it slip that she was a cop before? She hadn't met a man that she could actually see herself with in years and the one time she does, she goes and blurts out the worst thing she could have said. He would press and pry and she would tell him the story and he would walk away. Because she was a terrible person. Because no one could love or even like someone like the person she had been. She was different now, but he'd never see it. No one would.

"Fired?" he repeated. That couldn't be. His mind momentarily flitted back to the corruption angle of the case he was working. No, it couldn't be. She would have never admitted to being fired otherwise. There had to be an explanation.

"Yeah. It's a really long story," she said, averting her eyes, pulling at her hair again.

"You don't owe me an explanation, Adelaide," he told her.

"You'll hate me," she nearly whispered.

The sadness in her voice tugged at something in his chest. "I don't think I could hate you," he told her honestly. She shook her head and started to say something when Brad's phone rang. He cursed the timing and apologized to Adelaide as he stood up to answer it. He turned his back to her and when he turned back around he was staring at her like there was a hole in her head.

"What?" she asked.

"Your client, John. He was found dead," he told her.

"What!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," he said.

"I can drive you to your house," she offered.

"No it's alright. Thanks for the pizza," he said and was out the door before she had time to say a thing.

Well there went the hopes of anything even remotely romantic happening with Brad. What cop would want to date a former cop who had been fired? He couldn't get away from her fast enough. What a damn waste.

Brad ran the five blocks back to his house after declining the ride from Adelaide. His first question was going to be what the fuck was that man doing out of jail after assaulting an officer. He could have come back after Adelaide. Whoever gave him a bond was about to get an earful from him. Adelaide could have been seriously hurt. One punch from a man that size against a woman her size could do serious damage. Damn, he hadn't wanted to leave her house. She had sat so close to him that he could smell her shampoo. It smelled like apples. He wanted to take her hair out of the ponytail and bury his face in it. He needed to clear these cases at lightning speed so that he could have a fighting chance at maybe asking her out.

He changed into some jeans and hauled out to the apartment complex. He pulled in next to Jen's Mustang and found her standing near the doorway of the apartment.

"Hey," he called out to her. "What do we have?"

"Pretty similar to the first one. The attacker smudged the footprints again and washed off in the bathroom. Only difference is this one is on the floor and looks like he got him from behind," she told him. "Where were you?" she asked.

"Home," he lied. "Why?"

"Took you a minute to get here," she replied suspiciously.

"I was jogging. I had to change," he lied again.

Two crime scene techs walked out and Brad donned booties on his feet so he could go in and get away from Jen's prying questions. The man, John Mansfield, was lying on his stomach, his head turned to one side. His skull was crushed in creating a sunken hole that had filled with pooled blood. If that was the first hit, it had almost definitely killed him. There was a halo of blood around the head. There didn't appear to be any defensive wounds. There was not as much cast off blood around the room.

The room itself was just as bare as Kyle's had been. Again, Brad didn't know if that was due to a robbery or if he just owned nothing. He tried to feel some sort of sympathy for the victim like he typically did, but he couldn't. This man had taken a shot at Adelaide and in his mind it was unforgivable. Brad had wanted to hit him, himself. Of course he wasn't anywhere near beating the man to death, but also wasn't going to lose sleep over the loss.

He turned around to see Jen in the doorway. "Who let this piece of shit out of jail?" he asked her.

She raised her eyebrows, not used to hearing him curse or be so forceful. "Didn't know he was in," she replied. "How'd you know?"

"Because I put him there. He's the one who took a swing at Adelaide," he hissed, angrily as he walked out of the apartment. He stopped a patrol cop who was protecting the scene. "Was this guy in the jail when you started your shift?" he wanted to know.

"Yeah, but the sarge said we were too full up and to recog him because it wasn't even misdemeanor weed," he replied.

"What about the assault on law enforcement?"

"I thought it was just a PO," he said, confused.

Brad lashed out, grabbing the man by his uniform. "He could have come after her," he snapped. "She's law enforcement just like you or me."

"Brad," Jen said, trying to calm him.

"I-I'm sorry, it wasn't my call," the man stuttered.

Brad released him. "I'm sorry. Not your fault, it's just wrong," he said after he composed himself.

The patrol officer walked away quickly after Brad released him. "What the fuck was that?" Jen yelled at him.

"Well it's bullshit that they let him out," he defended himself.

"Well settle the fuck down," she snapped. "Jesus, Brad get yourself together."

Brad took Jen's advice and worked the scene with her, searching the apartment and making sure that it was sealed before they left. There hadn't been much to search. It was as scarce as Kyle's. Although the refrigerator had slightly more food than Kyle's. It was such a pathetic lifestyle that Brad almost felt sorry for them. Almost. He still wasn't past the fact that this man had tried to hurt Adelaide.

It was well past one in the morning when he finally got back home. He flopped into his bed, completely exhausted. Jen had kept insisting that they needed to investigate Adelaide's roll in all this more completely. She had all but called him incompetent when it came to her. And, maybe he was. No one else had ever gotten under his skin so completely and thoroughly. He knew he wasn't going to get much sleep. He kept wondering what might have happened if he had stayed longer at Adelaide's house. What was her story? Why did she think that he would hate her once he heard it? It took another hour and a cold shower before he could slip under and get some sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

THURSDAY

Adelaide had been up most of the night. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the text message was getting to her. Every little creak and squeak in her house took about a year off the end of her life. Combined with a second murder of one her clients, she couldn't rest. She was jumpy and paranoid and somewhere in the midst of all that, she acknowledged that she was sexually frustrated. Brad Fortune was one of the most attractive men she had ever laid eyes on and she wanted him. The feeling was unusual to her, but it was there nonetheless. She had asked him back to her house and if John hadn't been discovered and he didn't know that she had been a cop, maybe something would have happened. She got the feeling that he was attracted to her as well. She hoped he was, anyway.

Since she had been up most of the night, she had actually had the time to take care of her hair. It was typically in a ponytail but that morning she had actually styled it with loose curls. She also wore pants tight enough to keep her uncomfortable and awake, as well as heels tall enough to make her pay attention. She had a closet full of white long sleeved button down shirts. They gave the illusion that she was not trying to cover up every inch of her skin. She clipped her gun to her belt and was ready for work much earlier than usual.

When she got to her office that morning she was startled to see Jack in it, waiting for her. He stopped short when he saw her. She watched his eyes rake over her body in a very un-Jack-like fashion. He had usually glossed right over her but she supposed she did look a bit different that day. She fought the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Adelaide, another one of your clients has been killed," he told her, reaching out and stroking her arm sympathetically.

She shuddered under his touch and tried to step back without seeming rude. She was sure she'd never outgrow her initial aversion to a man's touch. "I know. I heard," she told him with a sigh.

"You did? How?"

"I ran into Detective Fortune at a pizza place. I was there when he got the call," she said somewhat truthfully.

"I see. I'm so sorry," he told her, reaching out and touching her again.

She forced a smile. "Thank you," she said as she tried not to flinch from his touch.

"Well," he said, taking a step back. "Two more you don't have to worry about anymore."

Adelaide faked a small laugh. "Geez, Jack. So wrong."

"Someone was gonna say it," he told her. "But really, if you need to talk or need to take some time, just let me know, alright?"

"Ok," she said. He made no move to leave her office. "I promise," she added.

He nodded, satisfied for the time being and left her alone. She slumped into her desk chair and started up her computer. It was going to be a long day. She put her head in her hands and must have dozed off because her office phone ringing startled her awake. She blinked and shook her head in an attempt to wake up.

"Probation and Parole, this is Adelaide."

"Adelaide, it's Brad. Fortune. Brad Fortune," he said.

She smiled and felt butterflies in her stomach. Geez, she needed to grow up. "I know your last name Brad."

"Oh, sorry. I, um, we could really use your help."

Somewhere between the cold shower and falling asleep, Brad had come up with a great idea. With both crime scenes he was stuck on the robbery angle. He didn't know if anything had been stolen from either residence because no one knew what the victim's owned. No one in con-ville was talking and the victims certainly couldn't say. There was only one person who had been in both the apartments. Adelaide. She had done home visits on them both and it was possible that if she looked around she would notice something missing. Or she could verify that they were as bare then as they were now.

Adelaide agreed to help but had to get permission from her boss before actually doing it. She couldn't find Jack in the building so she went to the District Administrator and explained the situation. The DA, Eddie Franklin had been ecstatic that Adelaide's presence was requested. He was a big advocate of POs being more prominent in the field. He thought a liaison between his office and the police would be fantastic. In fact, he called Brad back himself and told him that Adelaide was at his disposal. Adelaide strapped on the rest of her gear which included her handcuffs and OC Spray and waited about twenty minutes until there was a knock on her office door.

Brad stood outside Adelaide's office door looking down at the floor, trying to stretch his neck. The few hours he did manage to sleep, he had slept wrong. The door opened and he looked up to say hi before looking back down to stretch one more time. Yet, when he looked at her he about twisted his neck all over again doing a double take. He hadn't yet seen her with her hair down. Before, he hadn't really classified her as sexy, like Jen. He thought she was pretty, beautiful, stunning even, in a very girl next door kind of way. A way that appealed to him greatly. But the way she was dressed today; sexy was the only word that came to mind. His libido revved its engine and Brad had no idea how he was going to make it through the day.

Adelaide noticed his reaction and second guessed her wardrobe choice. Both he and Jack had reacted to her look and she wasn't sure that was a good thing. She also noticed that Brad looked damn good in that detective get up. She had had only seen him out of his full suit once but he had still kept himself too covered. She felt sure that he was hiding a beautiful body, she just didn't know why. When his face got red, the scar on it stood out. She loved that scar. It made his face what it was. She almost doubted that she would find him attractive without it. Her own face got red as she thought about how it might feel to kiss every inch of that scar. When she looked at him, it made her feel like a kid on summer break from school. Free.

"I know, I know. I'm not dressed for the field, but I brought my jump bag home yesterday and I didn't expect to be in the field today."

"No, you look...great, fine I mean. I mean it's good for the field, it's no problem," he stuttered along.

He wanted to smack himself on the forehead. He turned on his heel and walked away leaving Adelaide to follow. Normally he would never make a woman walk behind him, but he didn't think he would be able to stand watching her walk in front of him. His manners weren't completely obliterated by her apparel, though. He waited for her at his car and opened the door for her. She smiled at him as she got in and he shut the door. He used the walk around the car to try and get his head in the game. He needed to focus on the case and not on how badly he wanted to run his hands through Adelaide's hair.

The first half of the ride was quiet until Adelaide said, "Gosh, this is a nice car for a cop car."

"Oh no, actually this is my car," he replied.

"Oh."

Brad could tell that was not a good "oh." He knew that she had been embarrassed about the size of her house and now she was uncomfortable in his $70,000 car. She twisted in her seat, keeping her hands in her lap. He felt like a jerk, which was starting to be a familiar feeling when he was around her. He couldn't seem to do or say anything right.

As they pulled up to the apartment complex she decided to get something off her chest. "Brad, about last night..."

"I know," he interrupted. "It was just a fluke and a coincidence that we bumped into each other. Didn't mean anything."

Adelaide immediately withdrew, crossing her arms. "I was going to say that I was really glad that I ran into you and enjoyed your company. But, I get where you're coming from."

Brad's heart dropped. He was a fucking moron. He had tried to give her an out without having to make her say it. He had also wanted to save a little face so the rejection wouldn't sting as much. God damn him for assuming. And to make matters worse he looked up and saw Jen giving him a death stare. He had been so excited about his idea that he hadn't exactly run it past his partner.

"Uh, just wait here one second," he said as he jumped out of the car to head off a very pissed off Jen.

"What the fuck is this?" she asked very loudly.

"Shhh," he quieted her as he tried to guide her farther away from his car. "She can help with the robbery issue. She's been in both apartments and will know if anything is missing."

"This is unbelievable," she scoffed. "You know what she's doing, right? She's trying to insert herself into this investigation. And FYI," she said, looking past him to his car where Adelaide sat, silently stewing. "She looks like a tramp." She had said it so loud that there was no way Adelaide hadn't heard it. Which was Jen's intention.

Brad's eyes widened and for the second time he wanted to strike Jen. "That's enough," he growled. "This was my idea, not hers. There is absolutely no reason to talk about her like that, so knock it off."

He walked back to his car and heard her say, "This is a waste of time."

He got back into the car and turned to look at Adelaide. He took a gut punch. Adelaide looked mad, upset and completely disappointed at the same time. Her blue eyes were stark against her pale skin and perfectly matched the blue of twilight. He hadn't remembered them being so dark, but they must have darkened with her mood. He had never seen someone with such expressive eyes. She had to have been the best Probation and Parole Officer in town because he would have promised to do anything so she wouldn't look at him like that again.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I didn't have a chance to tell Jen you were coming."

"Let's just get this over with, ok?" she snapped, her arms still crossed in front her, shielding her. She moved to open the door when Brad stunned her by reaching across and pulling the door shut again.

In a very uncharacteristic move, Brad decided to be bold. He couldn't let her think that he had meant what he said. "I misspoke earlier. I meant to say that I didn't want to leave."

Adelaide was confused. "You didn't want to leave?"

"Your house," he clarified. "I didn't want to leave your house."

A blush crept up her cheeks. "Oh," she said quietly.

That was a much better "oh." She was avoiding eye contact now, but eventually he caught her look and said, "And Jen is wrong. Very wrong. You...you look beautiful."

He was out of the car before she could say anything. She watched him walk around the car and come to open the door for her. Her skin was tingling as though his words had actually touched her. She was confused and not sure which version of Brad she should be believing. Nevertheless, she got out of the car and put up her work mask. She would need to have tough skin to deal with Detective Spring. Adelaide shook the hair she had been tugging on off her shoulders and onto her back. She walked right up to Detective Spring and smiled.

"Ready whenever you are, detective," she said.

"Great," Jen said with no inflection in her voice.

"I think we should do Kyle's apartment first," Brad said. He indicated the way and let the women walk ahead of him. The heels did something to Adelaide's body that he should not have been noticing at that time. But he couldn't keep his eyes off her. That is until Jen looked back at him. He quickly shifted his focus elsewhere but knew that he had been caught. They made it to the apartment and Jen cut the seal. She walked in and Adelaide followed. Too late Brad realized that he should have prepared her for what she was going to see.

Adelaide walked in the room and was overcome with the stench of decay. The entire apartment looked blood soaked. She took it in with wide eyes. She recognized the blood spray and cast off patterns as something similar she had studied in a forensics class. Something big had been wielded back and forth several times. Her eyes focused on the bare mattress in the room that was now covered in a rusty red stain. That's where Kyle had died. He had probably been in tremendous pain and terrified. She hoped so badly that she wasn't to blame. The questions about whether or not Kyle was afraid of her had made her somewhat paranoid. Had she done something to set this event into motion?

Brad watched her carefully. She took in the room without showing too much emotion but when her eyes landed on the mattress, something in her saddened. She stared at it, her eyes glazing over. He was hesitant but he stepped forward and touched her arm. Her flinch was barely perceivable but Brad caught it and didn't like it. She shook her head to clear it and started to tug on a piece of her hair.

"Well?" Jen said loudly. "Do you see anything or not?"

"Give her a minute, Jen," Brad snapped.

Detective Spring's attitude was enough to get Adelaide back into character. She threw Brad a small smile and noticed Detective Spring's glare. She looked around the room taking a few small steps, trying to avoid the larger blood stains. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time she was in the apartment. So many of them looked the same. She opened her eyes and scanned the tiny space when her eyes fell on the card table. She walked over to it, gliding her hand over it, being careful not to touch. Something nagged at the back of her mind but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Do you see anything or not?" Detective Spring sighed.

Adelaide closed her eyes again and then it hit her. The notebook. When Kyle had made the turn in his lifestyle, she had encouraged him to keep a journal. It had become a habit for him. It was just a plain green spiral notebook but he was very protective of it. He even had it the day she had to have him removed from the office. It had been important to him.

"There is something," she said slowly, turning toward Brad. "You might have it though."

"What is it? I'll tell you if we have it," he replied.

"He kept a journal. A green notebook, just a regular one like for school. He brought it everywhere. He had been documenting the changes in his life," she explained.

"We don't have it," Brad said, excitedly. It was at least a clue, something they could look for.

"He probably threw it out once he started using again," Jen scoffed.

"Well he had it during his last office visit when I had to have him removed from the office. He was using at that time," she retorted.

"That's good," Brad said. "We can look into it. It's a lead. Thank you." He smiled at her and she returned it. "Is there anything else you can think of?"

"Umm," she mumbled, chewing on that lip again. Brad almost believed that she did that just to drive him crazy because it was so effective.

He looked at Jen who was mouthing "Waste of time" to him. He subtly shook his head and shot her a look that told her in no uncertain terms to shut up.

"Actually, there may be," Adelaide said. "Do you have any gloves?"

Brad took a pair out of his suit jacket and handed them over. He watched as she put them on. She reached out and tapped the leg of the card table with the toe of her stiletto. She tipped it on its side. Brad held his hand up when Jen went to stop her. Adelaide obviously knew something they didn't. He watched as she wrenched away one of the table legs.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jen exclaimed. "Are you too stupid to realize that this entire room is evidence?"

Adelaide clenched her teeth. "So are these," she replied as she turned the table leg upside down. Three white pills slid out into her cupped hand like a pill dispenser. Brad was stunned. Without really thinking he cupped his hand under hers to see what she had found. Adelaide could feel the heat of his skin and it instantly heated her.

"What are they?" he asked.

"I'd guess oxycontin. That was his drug of choice," she told him.

"Who the fuck cares? The tox screen already told us he was on opiates. It's useless and you aren't going to find anything else. I searched this room top to bottom, myself," Jen argued.

Adelaide raised her eyebrows challengingly, admittedly playing right into Detective Spring's game. She walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door.

"Ooh, beer and turkey. She's breaking the case wide open, Brad."

Brad watched the power struggle between the women and had no idea what he was supposed to do. He wanted to come to Adelaide's aide but thought that he would somehow end up insulting her. He wanted to tell Jen to back the fuck off her but he couldn't embarrass his partner in front of someone. He was stuck in the middle and he hated it.

Adelaide was peeling away the foam lining that sealed the door, maintaining eye contact with Detective Spring. She was getting angrier by the second. Detective Spring was being terrible to her and Brad was allowing it, even though he was the one that requested her presence. She was just about to her limit of bullshit that she would endure from them. Her fingers hit what she knew from experience would be there. She pulled out a bill rolled up tightly. She held it up and dropped it on the two inches of Formica that comprised the kitchen counter.

Detective Spring's eyes widened and she stomped forward, snapping on gloves. When she reached Adelaide, she reached for the money but stopped and leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. The previous butterflies in Adelaide's stomach turned to ice. She ripped off the gloves and stalked out of the apartment without another word. She gulped in fresh air as soon as she crossed the threshold. Being in that room covered in blood and finger print powder was like breathing in death.

As soon as Adelaide was out of the room, Brad debated on following her or dealing with his partner and the investigation. He ultimately chose to deal with Jen first.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" he hissed at her.

"Oh get the fuck over it. What'd we get from her, some pills, some cash and an MIA notebook? That's not going to solve this case," she yelled at him.

"She found two pieces of evidence we missed. Is your pride so out of control that you can't see that?" he yelled at her.

"All she's trying to do is get a second chance at being a cop," she snapped at him.

He froze. How the hell did she know that? "What are you talking about? Who told you that?"

"There's this thing called the internet, Brad. She left a hell of a paper trail," she laughed.

"What does that mean?"

"It means her real name is Adelaide Conway and she used to be a cop in Joliet, Illinois where she was fired," she told him angrily.

"It's not my business and it's not yours," he growled. "Leave it alone."

"You think she's so perfect? She lied her ass off to let a wife beater off the hook! What do you think about her now?" Brad shook his head. That couldn't be. There had to be more to it. "I'm still waiting on Joliet to send me the reports and once I have them, I'll get her fired from this job, too."

"Jen, just shut the fuck up and search the rest of the lining," he ordered her. It was out of character but he had heard enough out of her mouth for a lifetime. He walked out of the apartment and looked for Adelaide. She was in the parking lot, shoes in her hand walking. He realized that she was trying to walk back to her office and there was no way in hell he was going to let her do that. "Adelaide!" he called, but she kept walking. He jogged to catch her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going back," she said, refusing to look at him. Her voice was off.

"You can't walk. You'll tear your feet all to hell," he told her.

"Well I don't give a shit," she snapped at him, finally looking up. He was shocked to see that her eyes were shiny as though she was holding back tears. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Her shoulders slumped and almost too quietly to hear she said, "It's not what it seems."

"What isn't?" he wanted to know. He resisted the urge to hold her by her upper arms. He wasn't letting her walk away.

"The reason I was fired."

Brad hadn't realized that she had heard any of that. "It's ok. I don't much believe anything that Jen says and I'm sorry about the way she treated you."

Adelaide sighed. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that she hadn't seen it in them. She let herself believe that Brad might like her. "I understand you backing your girlfriend, but I didn't do anything to deserve her attitude."

Brad nearly choked on his saliva. "Girlfriend? What girlfriend?"

"Detective Spring," she replied in a "duh" voice.

Brad just about tripped over himself. "Detective Spring is not my girlfriend, who told you that?"

"She did," she replied.

So that's what she whispered to Adelaide. He was furious and was just about ready to go straight to the Captain for a new partner. "She is not my girlfriend. I promise you. I have absolutely no feelings for her. Not in the slightest."

"Oh," she said slowly, trying not to smile. The best "oh" to date.

"What did she say to you?"

"It's not important," Adelaide waved it off. "Especially if it isn't true." Actually what she had said was that Adelaide could try to get Brad's dick all she wanted but that it had been inside her every night for the last month.

"It's not," he told her quickly. "I won't make you stay any longer but please let me drive you back." He waited anxiously for her answer, unsure what she would do. After a minute's hesitation, she reached out and grabbed his arm. He was surprised that she touched him but she just used him to steady herself as she slipped her heels back on. She rose up a good four inches. He smiled at her. "Feel better being tall?" he teased her, still having to look down at her.

She returned the smile. "A little."

"Don't move. I'll be right back with the car," he told her. He ran back to his vehicle where Jen was waiting for him. She started to say something. "Don't," he stopped her. "The way you're acting is completely out of line. I'm asking for a new partner today."

"Oh please, you are not," she snorted. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"Surprise surprise, Adelaide doesn't want to work with us anymore," he told her. "I'm taking her back to the office and if I'm lucky I'll convince her to look around the second victim's apartment with a different detective."

He drove down to where Adelaide was waiting. He tried to get out and open the door for her but she was faster. She got in and shut the door. He started driving and felt like the silence between them was overwhelming. He wanted to ask her all sorts of things. He wanted to ask her about being a cop. He wanted to make sure that she understood that he was not with Jen. He just wanted to talk with her. Instead of picking any potentially hazardous topic, he went back to his safety net; the case.

"So what kind of things were in the journal?" he asked her.

She was looking out the window and hadn't made eye contact with him. "I'm not sure. I only ever flipped through it to look for contraband. I assumed he was writing about staying clean. I'm not sure once he started using again."

"I'm sorry that he threw his life away," he told her.

She finally turned to look at him. "Drugs are just so damn powerful. Kyle had been doing so well, but he just couldn't beat it I guess. He preferred the pills but he would snort heroin if he couldn't get his oxy. When he was sober, he told me that he hated the instant rush of snorting it. He knew it would be over soon. He preferred the pills because they lasted longer. But he'd do just about anything to take the edge off. Opiates are just so God damn dangerous."

"Yeah, my mom was addicted to them, too," he said, immediately regretting it as soon as the last syllable was out of his mouth.

Adelaide regarded him and saw the same look she must have been wearing when she let it slip about being a cop. She put her hand on his knee. "I am so sorry. It can be especially hard on kids. But you've already broken the cycle by not following in her footsteps."

"Well she died anyway," he said, trying to brush it off as nothing when in reality it was the worst part of his past.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "Were you in foster care?"

"My grandmother had me, but my mother just died a little over a year ago," he told her, not sure why he was telling her any of it. She was so easy to talk to, even though he didn't want her to know any of it.

She nodded and the hand that was on his knee moved slightly up his thigh. She was rubbing his leg and he was praying to anything that would listen that she would not notice the hard on that had sprung up so fast that he was in physical pain. He tried to control his breathing so she wouldn't notice that he was on the verge of freaking out. Her phone chirped and she withdrew her hand to pull the phone out of her pocket. He almost demanded that she put it back on his leg where it belonged.

The atmosphere in the car visibly shifted. Brad chanced a look at her. She was staring at her phone like it was a snake about to bite and she had lost all color in her face. A couple seconds later and he could see her shaking. The protective instinct that he had reserved solely for the job swelled inside him. He wanted to know what was wrong and he wanted to fix it immediately.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

She jumped as though he had snuck up behind her and said "Boo!" She quickly locked the screen on her phone and jammed it back in her pocket. "I.." she started but had to clear her throat. "I'm fine. Everything's fine," she mumbled.

They pulled up to her office and before Brad could even get the car in park she had opened the door.

"I'm sorry I wasn't of more help. I...have to go," she said. She was out of the car and in the building before Brad could even comprehend what happened. She got something in that text message and he wanted to know what the hell it was.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Back inside her office, Adelaide had shut the door and dissolved into a puddle of tears that she refused to let anyone else see. He knew where she was. He was here. God dammit, she didn't want to leave Elko. This had become her home. And she had just met Brad. Why did he have to come back now? How long had he known where she was? How long had he been watching her? The timing was something to be considered. Was it just coincidence that he was back when her clients started being killed off? She shuddered and tried to make sure that she was composed before anyone saw her that way. Her phone was in her hand and she slowly went back to her text messages.

I saw you with that fucking cop. You're mine.

She wanted to throw up her hands and give up but she wasn't about to do that. She had proven to herself that she was strong before and she could do it again. She just had to decide if she had the energy to run and hide again or if she had made enough of her life here to stay and fight. Three years. She had almost convinced herself that he had let her go, but it had just been a fantasy. There was only two ways that he'd let her go. He'd be dead, or she would.

Brad drove back to the station and settled down in front of his computer. He picked up the photos from Kyle's apartment and the ones from John's. He stared at them but barely registered anything. His mind was on Adelaide and what had her so scared. There was no question that whatever that text message had said terrified her. He wondered if it had something to do with the case, but honestly he didn't care. He just wanted to know what was wrong so he could take care of it. That she was that scared and didn't turn to him upset him. But, then again, they barely knew each other so why would she turn to him. She'd be more inclined to turn to a different man in her life, Bill Jenkins or that Richard guy she had been in the field with.

Jen knocked on his cubicle, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Trade me in, yet?" she asked.

"No," he replied. He didn't think he would do it. They were too far in this case to bring in someone new, now. "The way you acted made the whole department look bad."

"Yeah, well I'll apologize next time I see her. Which should be never because we don't need her," she snapped.

Brad gritted his teeth. He wasn't even going to touch on the lies she told Adelaide about them being together but he needed to set the record straight. "We do need her. Do you or do you not want to solve these cases? I know they are felons and you don't give a shit about them, but they still deserve justice."

"Fine," she retorted. "I'll be at my desk searching recent parole releases that have Kyle and John in common."

"Thank you," he said gruffly.

He went back to the pictures of the crime scenes. He had been over them so many times that they were starting to blur together. He needed Adelaide at the second crime scene to see if she could find anything out of the ordinary. Damn Jen and her big mouth. She was more of a hindrance in the case than anything else. He focused his attention on finding John Mansfield's family and friends. While doing so he heard the fax machine come to life. He went out to check and found a fingerprint match from John's apartment. He thought that was extremely quick until he checked the name. No wonder it was so fast. Matt Ludke. Again. He really needed to talk to this Ludke person but he had been tough to track down.

"Hey," Jen called from her cubicle. "Mike's got time for the second vic's autopsy now. Let's go sit in."

Once they arrived at the ME's office, Mike was just cutting the Y incision into the victim's chest. There was less damage to the body of this one, but there wasn't much Mike could do to hide the crushed in skull. Mike had glanced up at them as they walked in.

"Hey there," he greeted them. He nodded his head toward a table in the corner. "Pulled out some similar splinters from the head," he told them.

Brad walked to the table and picked up the evidence jar. He shook it and looked through the glass. "Labs come back on what kind of treated wood?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, they are backed up. They had a robbery and rape case this week, too."

Brad thought murder should at least trump the robbery but the men were felons. It was wrong but it still meant that it wasn't priority. "Anything you can tell us?"

"Well, unlike your first vic, this one looks like he had a good amount of overkill. Rage. The first hit had to have been the one that crushed the skull. He would have been dead within a minute. But I counted at least seven different breaks in the back. Your vic was probably attacked from behind, fell after the first blow and the attacker stood over him and beat him in the back. No defensive wounds."

"So he's either escalating or this one made him madder than the first one," Brad said out loud.

"We're sure it's the same weapon as the first one?" Jen asked.

"Not until the lab comes back but visually the splinters look the same. They wound patterns are similar as well."

"Time of death?" she asked.

"I'd say Wednesday between 4pm and 8pm," he told them.

"Well he wasn't released from the jail until 5:30pm, so that narrows it down," Brad said.

"And the manager found him right around 9pm when he was walking out for the night. Doer left the door open and Messer stopped to close it. So he says," Jen added.

"No one in the apartment complex talking?" Mike asked.

Jen scoffed. "Felons don't talk to cops," she said.

"Can you check the stomach contents first?" Brad asked, wanting to know if maybe the victims had been in the same place before their murders.

"Sure can," he replied.

Brad watched as Mike cut into the stomach and pulled out partially digested food. Any thoughts of having lunch after this were completely gone. Mike was able to identify chicken, corn and mashed potato. That was the standard frozen dinner given to residents at the Elko Jail. So it was looking more and more like John went home and was immediately attacked. But why? They didn't get much else out of the autopsy but Mike promised them a full report with tox screen. Brad already knew that it would be positive for marijuana yet he was interested to see if anything else was there.

They went back to the station and split apart to their respective desks. A few seconds later Jen was standing in the entrance to Brad's cubicle again, smiling.

"What?" he asked.

"Got another hit off the prints. Your girlfriend," she said smugly.

"She's not.." he started but rethought it. He took a deep breath. "She's been there before. It's documented, so get to the next lead."

She rolled her eyes. "Listen, I have to go take care of something, personal. Cover for me for awhile, will you?"

"Yeah fine," he told her, eager for her to leave him alone.

When she was finally gone, Brad decided that he needed to find Matt Ludke and he needed to find him immediately. There was one person he knew he'd open the door for.

Adelaide had been staring at her computer without doing anything for the past couple of hours. She couldn't get past the text message. She wasn't sure what her next move was going to be. Pack up and move? Hunker down and fight. She was completely stuck and terrified that he'd be able to finish what he started. A knock on the door made it push all the way open as it wasn't completely latched. Adelaide's stomach dropped so fast that she nearly threw up. Her pulse sky rocketed and she felt like had been kicked in the stomach and couldn't catch her breath.

Brad had knocked on the door and when it swung open Adelaide looked like she was about to faint. He hadn't known what to expect. When he went to the front desk and asked for her, her supervisor had told him that she had returned upset. He had cautioned Brad that Adelaide was one of his best officers and he didn't want Brad's case messing with her head. Brad had very diplomatically agreed and apologized for any inconvenience. Eventually her supervisor had let him pass. But Brad hadn't realized that Adelaide had been that upset.

She recovered fairly quickly after she made eye contact with him. "Brad, you startled me," she told him.

"Who were you expecting?" he fished.

"No one," she said too quickly. She took a deep breath. "So how can I help you?"

"Get me into Matt Ludke's apartment."

******

Adelaide was grateful for the distraction as she was in Brad's car driving back to the apartment complex for the second time that day. She liked being distracted by Brad. There was something so familiar about him, about his look. She felt oddly comfortable with him around. And although she had just met him two days ago, he was part of the reason that she didn't want to pack up and leave.

"So, is everything ok?" he asked her.

"Yes, everything is fine. I'm just jumpy lately. Two clients being killed and all," she partially lied.

Brad didn't believe her but he wasn't going to press it. "I really appreciate you doing this. Matt's fingerprints were in both apartments. I really need to talk to him."

"So do I," she replied. She smiled at him.

An awkward silence fell over them until Brad said. "I'm sorry that I dumped all that about my mother on you earlier."

"Oh no," she replied, her hand going back to his knee where he had hoped it would. "I completely understand. This probably brings back some memories."

"Sort of," he replied vaguely.

They pulled up to the apartment complex and Brad paused, not wanting to get out because that would mean Adelaide would stop touching him. But, she patted his knee lightly and said, "Ludke's apartment?"

He concealed a sigh. "Yeah."

Adelaide hadn't let him open the door for her which made him feel bad. He wanted to hold her hand, or keep his hand on the small of her back as they walked. He was feeling possessive but he resisted the urges. Instead he focused his energy on not touching her, not looking at her. Because if he looked at her, he'd definitely have to touch her. When they got to the door, they were so busy ignoring the sexual tension that they didn't notice the door wasn't latched. Adelaide reached up and knocked on the door, pushing it wide open. Without a second's hesitation, Brad's adrenaline surged and he swept Adelaide back, his hand on her waist holding her safely behind him. It didn't register that he had been trying to think of some small way to touch her the entire day. When her safety was in jeopardy he hadn't given it a second thought. His instinct to protect her took over. With his hand on her hip, he remembered noticing that she was not wearing her weapon. Even if she had been, he would have kept her securely behind him. He drew his weapon and walked in the room. He bypassed what was becoming an all too familiar scene on the bed and checked the bathroom. No one was there.

He turned around quickly to walk out and shut the door so Adelaide wouldn't have to see it but when he turned around she was in the room staring at the body on the bed, white as a sheet. Matt, or what was left of him, was lying on the bed, much like Kyle had been. His face was crushed in, completely unrecognizable. Blood still dripped from his head telling Brad that they were mere hours behind this one. The blood hadn't had time to congeal yet. The cast off spray surrounded the bed and the ceiling. One of Matt's eyes had been wrench from the socket and lay hanging on a sunken cheek. His body had drawn up into the fetal position but it hadn't saved him. The coppery smell of blood surrounded them.

Brad stepped in front of Adelaide, blocking her view. "You don't need to see this," he told her, his voice low and throaty. He moved to guide her out of the room.

She took a step back, stumbling on her heel. Brad reached out to steady her, grabbing her by her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and she hadn't blinked. He wasn't sure what her reaction was going to be, but he kept ahold of her in case she was about to fall out. Her eyes were focused past him to the horror scene on the bed. He had to get her out of that room.

The shock of seeing Matt lying there, completely mutilated made her walls start to break. She couldn't handle this. She couldn't do it. For three years she had worked day in and day out to not be afraid anymore and it had gotten her nowhere. Three dead clients. The text messages. This was too much. Brad had her by the shoulders. The heat of his hands made the rest of her cold. His voice was low, soothing her. He looked so concerned and Adelaide couldn't keep herself from the impending break. Her throat burned with the effort to keep the tears away. She could feel the heat behind her eyes getting worse. She finally tore her eyes away from Matt and looked up at Brad. Something about the way he looked at her shattered the dam.

"My ex-husband found me," she blurted out and burst into tears. She turned into the wall of Brad's chest so she couldn't see the body anymore. She needed something; his strength and hoped like hell he could give it to her.

Brad instinctively knew that he was going to take on the job of keeping Adelaide safe. He was going to protect her at all costs, no matter what or who it was from. "Your ex-husband? Are you in danger? I can keep you safe," he promised her immediately. He had never meant anything more.

"It's not safe here," she told him, her face still buried in his chest, her voice buried in sobs. "I have to move. I have to get out."

"Slow down, Adelaide. I won't let anyone hurt you," he told her, his voice back to that throaty deep voice that somehow seeped under her skin and flushed her with heat.

Not once did he have the urge to push her away from his chest which in itself was a first. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer to him and guiding her out of the apartment to the porch. He slowly reached up and stroked her hair, trying like hell to comfort her. The sight of her with tears in her eyes almost broke him. The constriction he felt in his chest was completely foreign but he didn't fight it. The mention of an ex-husband had him jealous and fuming at the same time. What has he done to you?

All too soon for him she pulled away. "Oh my goodness," she said, sniffing. "I am so sorry. That was so unprofessional."

"No, it's ok. Your ex-husband, has he hurt you?" he asked almost desperately. If she said yes...He wasn't quite sure what he'd do if she said yes. It would probably involve blood, a lot of blood. Let someone try and hurt her. Just let them try to get past him.

She shook her head. "Now's not the time. You have to deal with Matt," she told him.

"You can tell me. I can protect you," he repeated, meaning nothing more in his entire life and suddenly realizing that he was touching her again without agonizing about how to do it. He held her strongly by her upper arms, his fingers automatically stroking her comfortingly.

"Not now," she told him. She reached out and smoothed the shirt over his chest. The touch sizzled straight between his legs even though he knew it wasn't appropriate. The fact that someone touching his chest could elicit that response was something that needed to be investigated later. "I'm sorry, I got your shirt wet."

"It's been through worse," he assured her.

She sniffled a small laugh as she wiped her eyes. "I'm ok, I promise. You deal with this."
CHAPTER EIGHT

Ten minutes later the apartment complex was crawling with police, including Jen who had not been happy to find Adelaide on scene. Brad had ignored every comment Jen made about Adelaide as he worked the scene. He kept a careful eye on her. She was sitting on a brick retaining wall pulling and twisting her hair in her fingers, talking to a patrol officer. He had rolled her prints and was taking shoe impressions of her heels.

Mike had been too busy to come so another ME from the adjoining county came out to make the death declaration so the body could be moved by Mike's staff. Brad was able to weasel a vague time of death out of the man. Between 8am and 1pm. It was possible that while he and Jen and Adelaide were at Kyle's apartment, Matt was being killed. If the apartments had been just a little closer, they might have been able to hear it. While he was checking for evidence in the apartment, Brad sent a patrolman to offer Adelaide a ride home or back to the office. He came back a few minutes later relaying the message that she declined the offer. Jen huffed when she overheard him and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, "slut."

More than five hours after initially discovering the body, Brad was finally sealing the room and getting ready to leave. It would have been double the time if the apartment hadn't been so small and so barren. He counted his blessings on that, needing to get back to Adelaide, needing to know why she had broken so hard. He approached her cautiously. She was sitting in the same place he last saw her. She was staring off into the distance, not really focusing on anything.

"Hey," he said tentatively.

Her eyes shifted to his face and focused. "Hi," she replied softly.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded and hopped off the wall. Brad let his hand drift to the small of her back as he guided her up to the walkway.

"Brad!" he heard someone call. He turned around to see Jen. His jaw clenched as he braced himself for her to say something that would hurt Adelaide. "Don't do anything stupid," she called to him.

He shook his head at her and resumed walking Adelaide to his car. He stowed her safely in the passenger seat and got in the driver's seat. He wasn't sure what the right thing to say would be. So before he could determine that it would be insensitive he asked her, "Are you hungry?" He immediately regretted it, knowing that only a jaded person would be hungry after seeing that bloodbath.

Adelaide blew out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She was grateful that Brad was treating her normal and not like spun glass. He'd have every right to assume she was weak based on her pathetic display back there. She had seen dead bodies as a cop but nothing so horrific. That sort of crime didn't happen in Joliet. And she had known Matt. He wasn't some nameless victim.

"Actually I am," she told him.

"Ok," he replied, relieved that she didn't call him an asshole. "How about burgers?"

"That's fine," she told him, detached.

They pulled up to a restaurant and Brad started to get out. She put her hand on his arm and he froze, not wanting to disturb the touch that affected him so badly.

"Can we not eat in public? I just don't want to be around anyone else," she told him.

"Of course. I can run in and get something to go," he told her.

"Thank you, Brad," she told him with a forced smile.

He ran inside not wanting to leave her alone in the car for too long. When he left her, her eyes were roaming the surrounding. Now that he knew she used to be a cop, he couldn't believe he had missed it before. At that moment she was a cop looking for a predator. She was the sheepdog scanning for the wolf. She still had the police instincts. He needed to know more about that. He needed to know more about her ex-husband. He returned with some take out containers and was unsure what to do next. They were just a minute or so away from his house, but if his car made her uncomfortable he was sure his house would, too. Yet, she looked so on edge out in the open that he decided to risk it.

"Uh, my house is just up the street. If that's ok," he told her.

"That's fine," she replied, her attention still focused on the street.

Brad took a deep breath and started out to his home. When they pulled up he watched Adelaide's reaction very carefully. It wasn't a mansion by any means but it was easily four times larger than her house. He didn't really want her to know how he could afford it. He turned off the engine and waited for a minute. Adelaide was just staring at the front of the house.

She couldn't believe how out of her league Brad was. His house was absolutely gorgeous. A man's house, definitely. The grass was manicured but there were no flowers or frills on the outside save for an American flag on a flagpole, spotlighted. God, what he must have thought about her meager house. He probably thought she was half a step up from trailer trash. She turned to look at him. He was watching her with what could only be called a hopeful look. She gave him a small smile.

"You have a really nice house," she made herself say. Ugh, what he must think of her.

"Thank you. Come on in," he told her as he stepped out and went around to open her door. She was faking her politeness, that much he could tell. But, they were there already and there was no turning back now. He unlocked his front door for her and let her walk in ahead of him. Her heels clicked on the ceramic tile entry way.

The house was gorgeous. The colors were darker but with all the windows, Adelaide assumed that the house was much lighter during the day. The open floor plan showed her a large dining room to her left, a family room with a leather sectional and an enormous TV mounted on the wall to her right. Straight ahead was a large kitchen with granite counter tops, an island and what looked like brand new stainless steel appliances. Adelaide's kitchen had mismatched ten year old appliances and she didn't even have a dishwasher. If the house was any indication, she was in way over her head with Brad. She didn't know where to walk or where to sit. She felt so beneath him.

Brad saw her chewing her lip and pulling her hair nervously. For someone as special as her, Brad wanted to get out wineglasses and a great bottle of wine and show her how a beautiful woman should be treated. However, he could read Adelaide a little better than that. She wasn't the fancy type. She was more comfortable in relaxed settings. So instead of going to the dining room and giving her wine he led her into the family room and put their food on the coffee table.

"Have a seat," he told her. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, Coke, uh..orange juice, wine..."

"Wine," she said immediately. Her face flushed. "I'm sorry, I just can't seem to relax."

"It's ok," he told her with a smile. "I was hoping that's what you'd say. After the past couple days, I need a glass, too."

She released a pent up breath, smiled a genuine smile at him this time and sat down. Brad went to the kitchen and made the executive decision to put the wine in stemless wine glasses instead of his crystal ones. He needed to find a way to get Adelaide to be comfortable in his home because if he had anything to say about it, she'd be there often. When he returned to the family room Adelaide was sitting back, chewing on a French fry staring off into space.

"Here you are," he told her.

She looked up at him and gave him the sad smile from before. He handed her the wine and watched her take a healthy drink. "Thank you. God, what a long week," she said with a sigh.

"I know what you mean. Would you like to talk about it?" he asked.

"About what, three dead clients, being a cop or my ex-husband," she said with a laugh, knowing that he was interested in all three topics.

"Anything you want," he replied. Your ex.

"I'm so sorry that I cried all over you. Please believe I'm not some weak little girl that can't handle things," she told him.

He sat down across from her, making sure to leave a comfortable distance between them. "I don't think that. I think it's very hard to see a dead body, especially one that was so brutally murdered."

She nodded. "You know, what Detective Spring said about me is not entirely true," she told him. She needed to get this over with. Detective Spring had her real name and it would only be a matter of time before Brad found out about everything. "When I tell you this, there is chance that you're going to ask me to leave your house."

"I wouldn't do that," he assured her, his gut starting to churn nervously.

"You don't know what I'm going to say," she countered.

"You can tell me. I promise that I won't think badly of you," he said. He truly believed it. She could probably say that she killed someone and as long as that someone wasn't a cop, he was fairly certain he'd stand by her. "Please Adelaide. I'll do anything I can to help you."

She took a deep breath. "Brad." She stopped, trying to get up the courage to say what she had to say. Instead of telling him her story she blurted out, "I like you."

Brad was so completely stunned that his stupid mouth replied with, "You wouldn't want me, Adelaide. I'm too damaged."

Her face fell and she stood up to get some distance. Brad wanted to punch himself in the face. That was not at all what he had planned to say. Fuck, he couldn't do anything right.

"That didn't come out how it was meant," he tried to save himself.

"It's alright Brad. You wouldn't want me once I tell you this," she replied.

"No, I..." he started.

She started pacing. "What Detective Spring found out was partially true. Three years ago I lied my ass off and I let a wife beater skirt justice. She probably found the article they published in the paper. It talked about how I had everything on this guy. Pictures of the injuries, DNA and I lied for him. I let him off. So I got fired. Not exactly cop material."

"I don't understand," he said, tracking her with his eyes as she paced.

"Detective Spring wouldn't have put it together because they didn't print names of the suspect or the victim. Just my name because I was the cop that screwed up." She stopped and took a deep breath. "It was me. The...the victim. It was me. My ex husband Brennan Conway was the suspect."

Brad's heart sank and his gut turned to rot. He had definitely not expected to hear that. Looking at her, he couldn't reconcile her with a victim. Possibly because he couldn't imagine anyone could lay eyes on her and then intentionally hurt her.

"What did he do to you?" he asked. The detective part of him wanted to know. Another part of him needed to know. The part that couldn't stop thinking about her, the part that couldn't control his heart rate anytime she was near. She chewed on that lip again and Brad forced himself not to focus on it.

"Everything," she said quietly. "Nothing you haven't seen before, I'm sure."

He shook his head. He had seen some terrible abuse cases in his time and the very thought of those marks on Adelaide made him murderous. Instead of focusing on that he kept his mind clear and on the facts. "Why did you get fired?"

"Well," she started, pulling on her hair, twisting it around her fingers. "When they found me I initially told them that I was attacked by an intruder. They knew that wasn't true and because as a cop I was a mandated reporter of domestic violence, they fired me."

"They fired you because your husband beat you?" he asked, surprise giving way to anger. "That's completely ridiculous."

"Well, it was that and filing a false report. I hadn't realized at the time, but...Brennan had...well... he had done a lot worse than I thought. Brennan had threatened to kill me if I said anything. So I stuck to my story and was fired. I got out of the hospital, drove straight to an attorney, gave him every last cent I had and he got me divorced. I changed my name, legally of course and ran."

Brad's fists clenched at his sides. He couldn't believe that someone had laid their hands on the beautiful woman that God saw fit to drop into his lap. He couldn't understand how anyone could physically do that to her. He hadn't heard the worst of it yet, he was sure of that. Still, he already wanted to fucking kill her ex-husband. She was holding something back and he was fairly certain of what that something was. He wanted to hunt the man down and slowly rip him limb from limb.

"How did they find you that night?" he wanted to know. If he focused on the facts he had a shot at getting through this without walking out, tracking the man down and murdering him.

She stopped pacing. "It's actually kind of funny. He attacked me that night. I don't know why. Maybe the laundry wasn't done or something. But he just flipped out and I don't remember much after that. Anyway, Rush happened upon him still going to town on me and he went after him. It was already lights out for me but Rush drove him off. He got him pretty good, too. So Brennan went to the ER. The doctors called the police because he was drunk and incoherent about what happened. When the cops came, they asked him where I was and he stupidly said I was at work. Of course they knew that wasn't true so they went to my house, kicked in the door and found me."

"So let me get this straight. He beat you until you were unconscious, then left to attend to his own injuries?"

"I get it, Brad," she snapped. "I know I was stupid. A cop letting her husband beat her. I do understand the implications. I thought I loved him, ok? I didn't know what I was going to do without him."

"That is not what I meant," he told her forcefully. "I just cannot fucking fathom a man hurting you and then leaving to deal with his own damn injuries."

"Yeah well, that's life Brad," she told him.

"No, that's not life," he told her. He didn't want to ask but he needed to. "He raped you, didn't he?" His voice was too forceful, but he couldn't control that and his urge to track and kill at the same time.

She paled and froze. She started to speak but her voice broke. She waited for a minute until she had command over it. She should have known Brad would pick up on it. He was incredibly intuitive and very attentive to detail. She felt like she was watching the interaction between them, as though she was floating above. She knew at that very second that she was going to lose him before she had even had the chance to have him.

She managed to nod. "Yes, I created a false rape report when I blamed an intruder. They...they had taken a rape kit but I refused to release it. I knew Brennan's DNA would be all over it." There, that was everything. She had survived telling someone. Well...almost everything. She wasn't being completely honest. Lies of omission were still lies.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed. She had finished her story strongly, with an air of finality. Her posture had changed as well. Her spine had straightened and her face regained its color. Yet, the shift in her eyes told him that she was still holding something back. He didn't blame her and couldn't expect her to trust him after only a few days of knowing each other. She would tell him eventually, he would get her trust. There was no other option for him. He had to because no other woman had affected him the way Adelaide did. He wasn't going to let her go. His feelings were probably too strong for the amount of time he had known her, but he didn't care. He wasn't working on social convention; he was working on pure instinct. His instinct was to want Adelaide on every level it was possible to want someone.

"It's no surprise that you wouldn't want me," she mumbled. "I'm the one that's too damaged."

"No," he said loudly, startling her. "I just can't ever say the right thing around you. I meant to say that I like you, too."

"You don't have to say that," she replied, pacing again. She willed her heart to stop beating so hard. She could barely hear him past the pounding in her ears.

"I'm serious," he said. He caught her hand as she paced passed him. She was startled but she didn't pull away. He tugged on her hand until she was sitting down next to him. He looked in her eyes. They were much brighter than the last time he noticed them. She looked almost optimistic. "I really do like you." More than you know.

She couldn't look away from his eyes. Her heart picked up the pace and she just knew that he was going to kiss her. She hadn't been kissed in years. She was suddenly so nervous that she was almost shaking. She wanted it more than she wanted to take her next breath. She couldn't take her eyes off his lips, wondering what that scar would feel like.

"You can tell me if this is none of my business, but how did you get your scar?"

Brad froze. He thought she was possibly the only person in the world that hadn't noticed it on him. Everyone else had treated him like he was disfigured. The way Adelaide looked at him seemed like she really hadn't seen it on him. But of course she had. It couldn't be missed.

Adelaide picked up on his body language immediately. He had withdrawn and she felt terrible. She needed to fix it right away. After all, she knew a thing or two about being embarrassed by scars. He pulled his hand away from hers. She didn't stop him but she wanted to. Her mind was racing trying to find some way to get back to that "about to kiss" look. Before she could find the right thing to say Brad answered her.

"My mom's boyfriend of the hour slashed me with a box cutter," he spat out gruffly.

Adelaide was taken aback. "I-I'm so sorry," she stuttered.

He figured he owed her an explanation. After all she had told him about her ex. Yet, he hated even bringing it up. That damn scar was always the pink elephant in the room. "He just...she let him...it's a long story," he stammered.

Adelaide acted on instinct as her hand suddenly reached up and laced into his hair. It was longer than a typical cop's hair, just long enough to grab. Her thumb tracked through his broken eyebrow slowly. "It's not important who did it or why," she said, her voice low and soft.

At that moment, Brad whole-heartedly agreed. All that mattered was the way it felt when she touched it. He wouldn't have moved her hand if the room was burning down around them. He had never been touched like that in his entire life. All of the women he had ever been with had been rough with him. He had been rough right back. He could not remember ever enduring a gentle touch like Adelaide's. Somehow when he met her he just knew that she would be different. Somehow, with that one touch, the universe had made up for every screwed up second of his entire life. He would almost gladly show her all his other scars if she promised to touch them like she was touching that one.

"Adelaide," he breathed, his eyes closing briefly.

He opened his eyes, afraid he was dreaming. She was searching his face, her thumb still smoothing over his eyebrow as her fingers twisted in his hair. He was going to kiss her. He had to. He had to know how it felt, how she would taste, how she would react. He needed this with her. He needed the gentle touch. Everything he had done before paled in comparison to the anticipation of Adelaide. Brad had never made a move on a woman before. He had absolutely no self-confidence but, not that he would ever admit it, he had no trouble landing women. If he wanted it, he got it. Maybe it was because they picked him. There was always someone who was willing. But there had been no one that he actively wanted; someone who required some thought. With Adelaide, he was terrified he wouldn't have her. He wanted her so much that at the current moment he was painfully hard. Her touch had ignited him once again. He was just about to lean in to finally feel her lips when her phone chirped.

She gave him a self-deprecating smile as she removed her hand and fished the phone out of her pocket. The gentle blush that had crept up her cheeks as they moved closer to each other suddenly dropped out of her face. She had paled so fast that Brad was worried that she would pass out. He wanted to grab the phone out her hand to see what had gotten her so upset but she had jumped up and created distance from him too quickly.

"I have to go," she said, nearly running to the door.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, following her path away from him. "'Is it him?"

"It's....I...I just have to go. Please don't follow me," she told him, but her voice wasn't angry. She seemed to be almost pleading.

"You don't have your car," he reminded her. "It's not safe for you to walk in the dark." What the hell did that text message say?

"It will be ok. Please, Brad. I know you don't understand, but please trust me. I'll...be ok."

She was out the door before he could say anything else to her. She knew that it wasn't the smart thing to do. She could have explained that Brennan knew that she was with him and had threatened Brad. Brad would have probably said that he could handle it, but she wasn't so sure that he could. Brad rivaled Brennan in height and size, but Brennan had evil on his side. Brad had to play by the rules. She couldn't let him get hurt. She would never forgive herself. Why had Brennan shown up now? Why when she met Brad? Why when she was caught up in all of this mess with her murdered clients?

Her murdered clients....

Could Brennan have been involved? Could he have been trying to get her attention that way? She wouldn't put it past him, for sure. She needed to get back to her house fast. It wasn't Brennan's style to ambush her, but she hadn't seen him in three years and it was possible that he learned some new tricks. Typical Brennan would approach her and demand that she return home. No matter what her answer would be, she would still be punished. Adelaide prayed that he wouldn't be at her home when she got there. He knew where she lived, that was for certain at this point. But, she just needed a few minutes to get Rush and get out.

Brad watched her go from the living room window. She was terrified, that much he could tell. Everything in him was telling him to follow her, but he didn't. He was angry at her and he knew that he had no real reason to be except that she didn't trust him to keep her safe. He had almost kissed her. She had wanted him to kiss her. He wasn't so much out of practice that he could misinterpret that. But, she ran out. Whatever that text message said turned her into a different woman. He did not like the look of her when she was scared. It actually scared him. He did not fear much; not running toward gunshots, apprehending dangerous criminals, putting himself in the line of fire. Yet, Adelaide's fears scared him. He was afraid for her, afraid that he would fail at protecting her. Even if she wasn't willing to accept his help, he was still going to give it.

He scoffed to himself. How the hell was he going to help her? She hadn't even given him her phone number yet. He was going to have to go past her house and make sure that she was alright otherwise he'd never sleep a wink. He sighed and took his phone out of the inside coat pocket of his suit. He had several missed calls from Jen. He hadn't even felt the phone vibrate. He put the phone away, not interested in anything Jen had to say. He was too preoccupied with how he was going to deal with Adelaide. He needed to get over the fact that he was mad at her. Even though it stemmed from care, he had no right to be mad at her. Her life was hers and just because he cared about her didn't mean she had to do anything differently.

He sat on his couch looking at his stupid expensive house and his stupid expensive things wishing that he was in Adelaide's shoebox sitting with her on her tiny little loveseat. His nerves were still on fire and he needed to get rid of some of the pent up energy created by learning her story. He wanted to go out and hunt down Brennan Conway to show him exactly what should happen to wife beating rapists. Why had he shown up now? Brad didn't believe in coincidences. Three of Adelaide's clients were murdered at the same time that her ex husband had tracked her down. There had to be a connection. But, what was the point to the murders? Just to show her he was around? To show her what he was capable of? Brad needed to track that man down and ask him the hard questions. The hard part would be not tearing the man limb from limb during the interrogation.

Brad couldn't sit still anymore. Conway could be at Adelaide's house at that minute and he would have let her walk into a trap. He wasn't sure if he really believed that or if he was just making excuses for himself to justify going to her house. She had nearly begged him not to follow her. But, why? Was she as scared as he was about kissing her? He could almost feel the softness of her lips against his. He could imagine just how perfect she would fit against him, the sounds she would make, the trail of goose bumps that would be left on her porcelain skin after he kissed every inch of her. Dammit, he couldn't just sit and wait anymore. He needed to go find her. Despite the fact that he thought he would die if he didn't touch her and that he was so damn hard there wasn't enough blood for his brain to function, he needed to know that she was safe. He got off the couch and went to the front door, intending on following her in spite of her request that he let her go. But, the thought that she didn't want him around angered him all over again. So there he was standing with his hand on the front door, pissed off and completely aroused at the same time. He couldn't think straight but he knew that he needed to get out of that house where he could still smell Adelaide's scent lingering on the couch. He threw open the door angrily and ran smack into Jen.

"Jesus Christ, Fortune. Don't you ever answer your God damn phone?" she yelled at him, storming into the house uninvited. She stopped at the entrance to the living room. She looked back at him. "You have some company?" she asked indicating the two take out containers and two glasses of wine.

"Not anymore," he said between his teeth. Brad was breathing as if he had run a marathon. He just couldn't think straight in his state. "What do you want?"

"The landlord of the apartment complex was found shot to death in the courtyard," she told him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Doesn't fit the M.O."

"I know," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "What's the matter with you?"

He honestly didn't know. He had barely touched Adelaide and he was about to flip out because he wasn't able to touch her again. Something in his mind went back to Adelaide talking about Kyle. His addiction. He wanted his pills, but he would take almost anything just to get the edge off his craving. Brad was so sick from withdrawal that he needed something, anything just to get himself straight again. God, is this what drug addicts had to go through? He wanted to go apologize to every single one of them that he had told to shut up and suck it up while detoxing in prison.

Jen was staring at him like he had two heads on his shoulders. "Fortune," she snapped at him. "What the hell is your problem? We need to get to the crime scene."

He took two steps toward her, somewhere in the back of his mind screaming that it was a bad idea. She almost dwarfed in size compared to him standing nearly on top of her. He reached out and grabbed her by the biceps. She looked confused for a moment before her face transformed into predatory.

"Brad," she said with a hungry smile. "Something you'd like to say?"

Brad's chest was nearly heaving with exertion. "You still want me, you got me," he told her before crushing his mouth against hers.

She responded with a vengeance. Her tongue forced past his lips, devouring him as she pushed his suit coat off his shoulders and onto the floor. Her fingers started in on the buttons of his shirt. He allowed it because he was so far passed control that he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. Instead he worked the buttons of her shirt, stripping her of it within seconds. She was pushing his shirt off his shoulders, leaving him in only an undershirt. She started to tug at it. Brad pulled back from her, giving them both a second to breathe and moving her hands away.

"No," he told her, smacking her hand back when she tried to take his shirt off again.

"Brad, I know what's there," she started.

"I said no," he growled, pushing her forcefully onto the couch.

She smiled at him as he slid on top of her, once again crushing his mouth against hers in a raw and savage kiss. His hands flicked her bra open, exposing perfect breasts that should have had to be surgically enhanced to look that good, but they weren't. He molded her breasts to his hands as she arched her back to him. His mouth slid down her neck, nipping at her as he tracked his way down to her chest. He sucked one nipple in his mouth, satisfied to hear her cry out. Her fingers were in his hair, pulling hard the way he needed it. He bit down just hard enough to elicit a response from her.

"Harder," she commanded him.

He moved to her other nipple, licking and sucking it before biting down the way she wanted. She groaned and reached for his pants. He pulled away from her, afraid that she would touch him where he couldn't be touched. He removed his own pants, his erection springing free. Jen licked her lips but Brad smacked her hand away again when she reached for it.

"Stop," he growled again. She smiled at him tauntingly.

"Second thoughts?" she teased him.

He should have stopped. A smart man would have stopped. He had the opportunity. But he was no longer in control of his body. Instead he forced her skirt up, reaching for her panties and roughly stripping them off in one motion. She was hot and wet and completely ready for him as he slid into her in one long stroke. He groaned as she enveloped him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she brought his face to hers so she could kiss him. He started to move inside of her, needing the release more than he needed anything at that moment.

"Harder, Brad," she told him before moving her lips to his neck, biting at him. The little shocks of pain spiked into pleasure as he rammed into her harder. "Dammit Brad, fuck me harder," she commanded him as her nails raked across his back over his shirt.

He fucked her as hard as he could, listening to her moaning and crying out. She grabbed his hand and pushed his fingers against her wet clit, telling him to rub her hard. He rubbed her roughly as he pounded inside her until he felt her cinch around him over and over again. She was screaming his name but he could barely hear her as he drove into her wildly, completely out of control. The orgasm showered over him completely, taking over his mind, his muscles and everything else. The release lasted longer than he could remember ever lasting before. He was panting and slowly regaining his senses.

"Holy shit, Brad," Jen said, moving her damp hair out of her face. "Who taught you how to fuck like that, and why haven't we been doing that all along?"

Brad sat back, looking at her and suddenly realized what he had done. What the hell was he thinking? He was the dumbest man alive. He didn't want Jen. He wanted nothing to do with her, but he had just fucked the living daylight out of her. And it had been good, damn good. Why had he done that? He wanted Adelaide, not Jen. He had just finished telling Adelaide that he wasn't involved with Jen. Then he went and had sex with her. Now she would think he was a liar. He might as well be; she would never trust him again. And he needed her trust. He needed her to trust him to keep her safe. Her safety...

Damn, another murder. Same apartment complex as her three dead felons. It couldn't be coincidence. Had Brennan Conway struck again? He needed to get out to that scene. He needed to make sure Adelaide was safe. And he needed to get the hell away from Jen. He looked back at her as she was redressing. She would have been any man's dream woman, but she wasn't the one he was dreaming about. Damn, he had screwed up.

"You know we didn't use a condom," she said, jarring him out of his thoughts.

Fuck.

"I'm clean," she told him. She paused and he held his breath. "And I'm on birth control."

"Well thank God for small favors," he said sarcastically.

"I don't know what you're so angry about," she snapped at him. "You started this."

"And it's over now," he barked at her.

"Fine," she mumbled angrily, buttoning her shirt. "You've been an asshole since we started this case."

Brad ignored her and redressed as fast as he could, wanting to get as far away from his couch as possible. "Let's go, we need to get to the scene."

"Wouldn't happen to do with a certain Probation and Parole Officer, would it?" she provoked him.

"Back off," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

"God, she has got you so ass backward. You know she's likely involved in this," she spat at him.

"She's not," he said before he could realize Jen was baiting him.

"She is. There's a reason people change their names, Brad. They are running from something. Three fuck ups on her caseload end up dead? She knows what's going on," she told him, walking past him to the door.

Brad had to bite his tongue not to tell Jen how stupid she was. He didn't need to be spilling Adelaide's business to everyone. He knew she was innocent and he wouldn't allow anything to happen to her on that end.

"Just so you know," he stopped her. "That is never happening again."

"Yeah, that's what they all say," she replied.

CHAPTER NINE

They eventually made it to the crime scene which unfortunately held little to no evidence. Abe Messer had been shot once in the chest. The bullet was still lodged in his body and would have to be removed during the autopsy. There was a powder burn pattern on Messer's shirt that suggested the shot was fired from less than two feet away. He had been upfront and personal with his killer. He could have been ambushed but the position of the body didn't indicate that he tried to run or protect himself. He just stood there and let himself be shot. Why? Crime scene located some footprints in the grass. There was no ridge detail but it was ascertained that the person who left them wore approximately a size 12. So it was most likely a man but Brad had been working on that assumption all along. For someone to wield a bat or a cane or whatever the treated wood was for the length of time and force it took to kill the other three men, Brad had naturally assumed the doer was male.

So, why use a gun this time? Was the killer unprepared? Was Messer just collateral damage? Or possibly the murders were unrelated. Perhaps Abe Messer had kicked out the wrong felon or had some enemies in his life. Brad looked at the body. The eyes were open, glassy in that death stare. He had been looking right at the killer. The bullet must have killed him instantaneously.

Naturally a canvas of the apartments in the area were negative for anything. No one heard a gunshot despite the walls being paper thin. Time of death had been established around 9:00pm. The call to 911 was anonymous from a pay phone. Why were all the cons in con-ville so ready to protect someone that was killing them off one by one? They still had not established any sort of motive. The robbery angle did not seem to be playing out. The only cash they found was what Adelaide had pulled out of Kyle's refrigerator. That was about a thousand dollars. People were certainly killed for less, but had the killer known about it, he would have forced Kyle to retrieve it before killing him.

It was possible that the killer was a vigilante, killing off felons for the sake of killing off felons. Maybe Messer interrupted the killer on his way to the next kill. It was too much of coincidence that they all had the same PO, though. Brad's mind was a jumble and it was no surprise that it worked its way full circle to Adelaide again. He watched with a numbing detachment as Mike's crew loaded up the body and left the area. A patrol officer would have to guard the scene all night until daylight when they could return and search the area. Brad didn't hold much hope that they would find anything helpful. He was four deep in murders and barely had one lead. Jen's searches on recent prison releases weren't coming up with anyone in common. Marcus Cantrell from McDonald's was in the wind. Kyle's family were all rotting away in some form and did not seem capable of murder. John Mansfield, Matt Ludke and Kyle Alton all knew each other but who else did they all know. Adelaide.

Brad shook his head again. No, she couldn't be involved. For one, the shoe prints were from a male at this scene. For another, she was with him when Messer was murdered. And, he had seen her reaction to Matt's body. She couldn't have faked that. Let Jen beat her head against the wall with that theory. He would work his own case and find the real doer.

Adelaide was a prepared woman. She had a bailout plan for if Brennan found her home. She just hoped that he wasn't keeping eyes on her 24/7. When she had returned home from Brad's, Rush was the only one in the house. He would have never let Brennan in anyway. She acted normally in the house in case Brennan was watching. She pretended to go to sleep when really she grabbed the bag she had packed for three years. Under the cover of darkness she slipped out the back door of the house with Rush, slipped through the gates of three different backyards until she reached a road that was a few blocks away from her house. She got into the idling cab she had called and directed him to a shady apartment in a town she would have otherwise avoided, especially at night. She had kept a rented basement apartment in a run-down building for three years. She had just started considering letting it go and saving $400 per month but she couldn't make herself. She just needed that added security of a backup plan if Brennan found her. And, luckily her paranoia came in handy.

Besides, she didn't mind her tiny house anymore. At first it was hard to know that she could afford better if she didn't have to plan around a psychopath. But, now she had fallen in love with her beautiful little house. She didn't want to give it up. It was no real surprise that Brennan had tracked her down. She had changed her name legally which left a big paper trail. Luckily, the apartment she was now cowering in hadn't asked for a credit check so she was able to rent it under an alias. The utilities were still on so she was able to turn on the lights. She didn't own much in the apartment. It had been broken into twice since she had rented it but they hadn't done much once they realized there was nothing it. Adelaide had changed the locks herself each time, not wanting the landlord's involvement.

She had a sleeper sofa which she pulled out. Rush jumped on the bed and made himself at home. She felt ok as long as Rush was there. If anyone tried to get in, Rush would hear them and it would be that person's biggest mistake. Adelaide climbed in the bed next to Rush and curled up with him. Her life was turning into crap. She tried to fall asleep but her mind kept her awake. Brennan was there in Elko, stalking her like prey. Could she let Brad help her or was it too dangerous? She couldn't let Brad get hurt. It would destroy her if a wonderful person like Brad was hurt because of her. God, what she wouldn't give for him to be in that bed with her, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm and making her feel safe. It had been a long time since she could even consider letting a man keep her safe. She kept herself safe, man or not. But with Brad, she thought maybe she could relax, just for a bit, just so her guard didn't always have to be so high. Pipe dream. She would never get that. This would be her life as long as Brennan Conway still wanted her.

Still, she hoped she hadn't offended Brad. He seemed so sincere when he said he wanted to help her. She hoped he wasn't worrying about her. But, if the situation were reversed, she would be worried about him. She sighed to herself and got up to grab her purse. Inside she had stowed Brad's card. It had his cell phone number on it. She stared at her own phone. Her mind debated with her over sending him a text. She wanted to but she didn't want to seem desperate. She didn't want to overstep. Finally, she told herself to stop being such a wuss and just do it.

This is Adelaide. I just wanted you to know I'm ok. If you were wondering, she texted.

Brad was outside Adelaide's house looking in the windows. Of course her car was not there because he had driven her from her office and from the crime scene. The lights were all off. He did not hear the growl of an overprotective dog so Brad was fairly sure that Adelaide wasn't home. He would have never gotten away with rummaging around in her flower beds looking in the windows with that dog. It was nearing 1am. Where would she have gone? A hotel?

"Can I help you?" a voice from behind him startled him.

He whirled around to see an older woman standing the light cast off from her open doorway. She couldn't have been more than 4'11 but she looked ready to take him down.

"Police," he told her and showed her his badge. "I'm trying to find the woman that lives here."

"I don't know what she's done to have all these cops looking all over for her, but she's been nothing but nice and respectful to me, so I'm not telling you all anything," she snapped at him.

Brad almost laughed but he didn't think the woman would appreciate it. Yet something didn't sit right. "Another officer was looking for her?"

"Yeah, earlier tonight. You all don't talk to each other?" she sneered.

Brad's first thought was Jen. She had it in for Adelaide. She had probably been trying to question her. " A woman cop?"

"No, a man. Looked like you. Tall and annoying. Wouldn't take no for an answer until I threatened to go on over there and let her dog do the talking for me," she told him with an evil old woman laugh. "He left real quick after that."

Brennan Conway. Brad's jaw clenched as anger flooded him so strongly that his vision blurred. He somehow managed to take a deep breath and tell the woman to go back in her house. She complied but not without grumbling something about not having to listen to no asshole cops. Brad was somewhat glad that Adelaide's neighbor was a little feisty and willing to protect her. But now he didn't know where to find her. She had obviously run away from Brennan. He needed to track her down.

He was just headed back to his car when his phone beeped at him. The text message from Adelaide calmed him down at the same time as speeding his pulse. Thank God she had found his number. He honestly thought he was going to go insane waiting to be able to contact her. He pushed the call button immediately.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded strong.

"Adelaide," he breathed. "I was so worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I had to go. I didn't want you to get hurt," she told him, biting her lip nervously on the other end of the line.

"How would I get hurt? I'm just worried about you getting hurt."

"Brennan knew that I was with you. He knows where you live. He threatened you. I just have to keep my distance so he doesn't try to hurt you."

"No, Adelaide," he nearly yelled at her. "You are not to worry about me. You are not going to stay away just because he threatened me. I can hold my own. You are my concern. My safety isn't. He won't get to me. And I won't let him get to you if you let me help you."

"Well I'm safe tonight, I promise," she told him. She wanted to ask him to stay with her but pride and worry about his safety made her keep her mouth shut.

"Where are you?"

"It's not important. I will be fine and I'll be at work tomorrow. I just need a minute to figure out what to do. I can't tell you anything more. I...I'm sorry. Bye."

She hung up and white hot anger coursed through Brad like he was on fire. God dammit, that girl was just asking for Brennan to find her and kill her. Why wouldn't she let him help? He didn't even get a chance to tell her there was another murder. He had a bad feeling about all of this. He sat in his car outside her house for more than a little while, controlling the urge to pound his fists into the dash. Eventually he drove back to his house, his eyes scanning for Conway along the way. He wanted Conway to come after him. Hell, he would directly provoke him if he knew where to find him. Then Brad would have the chance to kill him. And he wouldn't be using his gun.

Brad got absolutely no sleep. He could not stop thinking about the case and how it related to Adelaide. Jen was convinced that Adelaide was involved but Brad was dead set against that idea. She couldn't have snowed him so completely, even with his attraction to her. He'd be able to see through it if she were lying. What he needed to do was find Marcus Cantrell and Brennan Conway and get some real God damn answers. He wondered if Adelaide was actually safe and why she wouldn't let him help her. She would probably let Rich or Bill help her, he thought bitterly. He had never been jealous over a woman a day in his life and now he was so jealous that he literally could not sleep. It was insanity. Brad laid in his bed until he saw the sun crest. He needed to get to work early so he could get back to the crime scene and go over it in the daylight. When he got up to get some breakfast he noticed the take out containers on the coffee table in his living room. He walked over to them, numbly sitting on the couch. Adelaide's scent still lingered there, surrounding him despite what he had done on that couch. Floral with a hint of spice. It complimented her personality perfectly.

God, he still wanted her so damn bad. She should have stayed with him. He would have sacrificed anything to get her to stay with him, where he knew that she was safe. He hung his head, feeling the muscles in his neck stretch. He rolled his shoulders to stretch his back and felt a burning sensation across his back. He was in the middle of wondering why the hell his back was stinging so bad when he remembered. Jen.

He bolted to the bathroom, stripping off his shirt along the way. He skidded to a stop in the mirror twisting to see his back. Red scratches marred his back. How the hell had she done that through his shirt? He turned to look at himself in the mirror. He was so fucking ashamed of himself. His stomached lurched as his heart dropped into it. His neck. Jen had left marks all over his neck that would not be covered by his collar. He wanted to sink into a dark hole.

CHAPTER TEN

FRIDAY

Adelaide made it to work relatively sure that she was not followed. She had taken a cab and had it drop her off a few blocks from work so Brennan wouldn't see the cab she was in and track it back to where it picked her up. She had barely slept a wink between thinking about the murders, Brad, and Brennan. She had almost broken down and called Brad again. She had just wanted to hear his voice. Every little sound and nuance in the apartment made her heart jump into her throat. She was sure that Brennan was just around the corner. And, she couldn't make up her mind on what she was going to do. She knew the smart decision would be to run, start over from scratch, change her name again. But, she didn't want to run. Not this time. Not when there was something to stay for.

She felt more than stupid staying for a man that she barely knew. There was just something about him that made her feel....at home. She could feel safe with him. She instinctively knew she could trust him to watch her back during the times when she was too tired to do it for herself. But nothing could happen while Brennan was on the loose in Elko. She needed to figure all of it out. The more she thought about it, the more she thought Brennan was not only capable of killing her clients, but it was absolutely something he would do to get her attention. He had a sick, sick mind and killing someone just to screw with her would be right up his alley.

She groaned as she worked out a crick in her neck from the stupid sleeper sofa. She couldn't get motivated to work when there was so much else going on in her life. She wanted to talk to Brad. He seemed so mad when she left his house. And, she could practically feel his anger on the phone when she refused to tell him where she was. But, she wasn't about to allow him to walk into one of Brennan's traps. Now during the day when he would be surrounded by other cops, he would be safe. Brennan was stupid but he wasn't suicidal.

She groaned again and dropped her head in her hands. She was such an idiot. She had dressed somewhat sexy, hoping that she'd maybe see Brad again. She had actually stopped before leaving her house the night before and added the pencil skirt, tight long sleeve button down shirt and heels to her bag. Wishful thinking. There was no need for him to want to see her. She had basically told him to back the hell off the night before, even though she had meant the exact opposite. A week ago her life had been so different, so simple. Now three clients were dead, Brennan was back and she had met Brad. Brad should have been the least of the three to consume her thoughts, but instead he dominated them. The world's idea of timing had a shitty sense of humor.

Her work phone rang and her heart sped up. Brad.

"Hello?"

"Officer St. James. It's Detective Spring."

Brad pulled up to the crime scene later than he intended. None of his damn shirts hid the marks on his neck. The other officers were going to give him all kinds of shit. He just prayed to God that Jen had covered any marks on her neck with make-up so people wouldn't put two and two together. Speaking of Jen, where the hell was she? She knew they needed to get back to the crime scene. Messer felt a whole lot like a mistake that would lead them to the killer. It was not planned like the others. It was their chance to find out who this asshole was. And Jen was God knew where. The day had started out wrong and he was already pissed off about Adelaide and everything else. He didn't have to time baby Jen through the job. He had just started to walk toward the clearing where they had found Messer when he heard the distinctive roar of her Mustang.

He sighed, turned around and crossed his arms over his chest so that she would know just how pissed off he was. She pulled up next to his car and when the glare over the windshield subsided, Brad's stomach did a backflip. What the fuck? Adelaide was sitting in the passenger seat.

Jen jumped out of the vehicle and walked up to him with a smirk on her lips. He immediately noticed that she had done nothing to hide the marks on her neck. His heart started racing. Adelaide was going to know. She was very attentive to detail, very perceptive. She would think that he lied to her. He immediately dreaded what was going to happen. He was going to screw it all up before he ever had the chance to make it what it could be. What it should be. She should be his. But, he had destroyed any chance of that.

"What the hell is this?" he hissed at Jen as she approached him.

"What?" she smiled obnoxiously. "I thought you'd be happy."

He looked back at her car and his mouth went dry. Adelaide was standing outside the passenger door, her hair was loose and blowing in the light wind. She looked absolutely stunning in her tight shirt and skirt that went to her knees. His eyes dragged down her legs that looked about a mile longer than he remembered. She was wearing those high heels again. But she wasn't wearing her weapon or the rest of her gear. She hadn't planned to be out. His eyes snapped back to Jen as she started laughing.

"You wanted her to go through John's apartment," she told him as she turned to walk back to her car.

Brad stopped her, grabbing her arm a little harder than he should have. "Did you tell her...about...what we did?"

She laughed again. "Of course not, silly."

Brad took a deep breath and started walking toward Adelaide. There was no getting out of what was going to happen. She was on the phone with someone but she had her eyes on him and there was a smile on her lips. His pulse fluttered. He stopped a few feet from her to let her finish talking on the phone.

"Oh I'm fine, Bill," she was saying.

All the anger from the night before returned like a lightning bolt.

She laughed, but her eyes were still on him. "No, I think I'm the last person he'd try and contact. Listen, Bill. I have to go. I'll talk to you later ok?" She hung up the phone and tucked into a pocket Brad didn't even know existed in that tight skirt. "Hi," she greeted him, her voice breathy and light.

"Hey," he replied gruffly. "Sleep well?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly and slid over to find where Jen was. She reached out and lightly grabbed his elbow, guiding him away from the car. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Her touch was electric and almost enough to make him forget that he was mad. Almost. "Uh, sure," he was able to mumble back.

She hadn't expected her heart to jump so much just seeing him again. It was unreasonable but she didn't care. She was going with her instinct on this one. She didn't care what convention said. She had risked a lot to get away from Brennan. She figured she could risk a little more stay. Brad would understand, she knew he would. He wouldn't judge her like others might. Maybe it was the scar on his face. He was gorgeous and the scar made him more so. She thought he might just be able to understand her because of it. And she wasn't going to be an idiot and ruin the chance because Brennan had made some threats. She refused to be scared of him anymore. She refused to be his victim anymore. Let him come at her. She would kill him if need be. The revelation had made her feel strong and in control, confident.

She let go of his arm and stood in front of him. Even in four inch heels she still had to look up to look him in the eye. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," she told him.

He scoffed, unintentionally letting his anger get the better of him. "What for?"

"Well...not letting you help me," she replied, expecting his anger. If the tables were turned, she would be angry, too. It would have been a slap in the face for him to turn her away the way she had done to him.

"I'm sure Bill or any of the other officers would be more than happy to step in," he snapped, even though his mind was telling him to shut the fuck up and take her apology for what it was. An invitation into her life.

"Brad," she said quietly, stepping forward. Her hand slid down his arm, her fingers grazing the edge of his hand as it hung by his side. "I know you're mad. Honestly, I was...scared. I guess I didn't want you to see that," she told him her voice trailing off as her attention was diverted to Jen.

Brad followed her line of sight to see Jen sitting on the hood of her Mustang staring at them, stroking her neck. Brad's eyes snapped back to Adelaide. She tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes. Slowly she looked back to Brad, her eyes dropping to his neck. She snatched her hand away from his and took a step back. She had figured it out. Dammit, he should have said something first.

"Adelaide, I can explain," he started.

She turned her back on him almost immediately, completely ashamed at the tears that were coming to her eyes. She couldn't let him see. She couldn't let Detective Spring see. She had to show him that he hadn't affected her. God, she was so fucking stupid. She was about to risk everything for a man that she barely knew because he made her pulse race a little. Just because that hadn't happened since she was a teenager didn't mean that it was anything special. Obviously she wasn't anything special to him. He had lied to her. He told her that he wasn't with Detective Spring but there they were, wearing matching hickeys. She wanted to throw up. She felt his hand land tentatively on her shoulder. The heat radiated through her but she shook his hand off anyway. She ran her fingers under eyes, catching any tears that may try to spill over. By the time she turned around to face him, she was in control of her emotions and her expressions.

The look on Adelaide's face nearly brought him to his knees. She was angry which he expected. He hadn't expected that underlying look of complete betrayal, of being deceived. His mind was racing with anything that would make it better, but common sense told him nothing would. He had slept with Jen. He wasn't going to be able to lie his way out of that. His explanation that he needed Jen to take the edge off his want for Adelaide would probably earn him a slap in the face, rightfully so. He was at a complete loss, nearly panicked at the thought of never seeing Adelaide again. And, he knew he wouldn't after that. She started to walk away when Brad's hand reached out without his consent. He made contact with her arm and she froze.

"Please let me try and explain," he almost begged her.

"Brad," she said between clenched teeth. "Do not touch me."

Brad snatched his hand back quickly, surprised by her vehemence. He had hurt her and that was the absolute last thing he ever wanted to do. He followed her as she walked over to Jen. His eyes dropped to watch her backside as she walked, fully aware that there was a good chance he was never going to get to see her again. He hung back a few feet as she approached Jen.

"If we are going to look at John's apartment, can we get on with it?" she snapped.

Jen smiled and hopped off the hood of her car. "Of course," she replied with a shit eating grin directed at Brad. "After you, Officer St. James."

Adelaide stalked off toward the apartment. Brad grabbed Jen's arm holding her back. "You think you're so fucking smart," he hissed at her. "You come on to me in any shape or form and I don't care what shit people give me, I will file sexual harassment complaints on you."

She laughed. "Please Brad. No one believes that for a second."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp and walked off behind Adelaide. He took a deep breath and followed her, the case being the last thing on his mind. His entire focus was on fixing what he broke in Adelaide. This woman had completely turned his world upside down. He knew that if he walked away and considered the whole thing a weird blip on the reel of his life, everything would just go back to normal eventually. But, he didn't want everything back to normal. He craved the feeling he got when he thought about Adelaide, the way every nerve end in his body fired whenever she was near. He loved that sensation. He didn't want to lose it.

They were passing the courtyard when Adelaide stopped suddenly. She was surprised by the crime scene tape and wondered what they had found there that pertained to her clients. There were several officers standing around the perimeter and some crime scene technicians inside the tape on their hands and knees. She looked back to Brad questioningly.

"What did you find there?" she asked him, her voice still hard and angry.

Brad opened his mouth to answer her but Jen was faster. "A dead body."

Adelaide gasped and her hand covered her mouth. "Who?" she whispered.

Jen rolled her eyes. "The landlord."

"Oh no," she said quietly. "Oh Abe, what did you do?"

The anger was gone from her face but had been replaced by sadness. It tugged at Brad's heart and he almost preferred to see her angry. He couldn't stand to see her sad. It was heart breaking. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you earlier but I...I didn't get the chance."

He watched as a mask fell over her face. All emotion was suddenly devoid. He knew better. The murders were getting to her. She was cracking under the stress of it all and it was the way that she knew how to cope with it. She was shutting it all out. He was incredibly worried about the reaction and wanted to get the real Adelaide back to the surface; angry, sad or anything beside the cold look she was sporting at that moment.

"Let's get to John's apartment," she said in a monotone voice.

He and Jen followed her as she walked past the courtyard crime scene with purpose. She stepped aside when they reached John's apartment, waiting for one of them to break the seal on the door. Jen donned gloves and razored the seal. She opened the door and stepped in. Adelaide took a step forward but hesitated at the last second. Brad watched as she closed her eyes momentarily, before opening them, shaking her hair off her shoulders and straightening her spine. You don't have to pretend Brad wanted to tell her. But, she still wore that invisible mask. He followed her inside.

Adelaide stepped into the apartment, taking note of everything and trying not to catalogue the signs of horror that were everywhere. She side stepped a large blood stain on the dirty floor as she walked the length of the room. There was fingerprint dust everywhere, completely covering the only window, casting the room into an eerie glow. She couldn't think about John as a person. If she did, she wouldn't have been able to keep her emotions in check. Sure, John did not like her too much but he didn't deserve what he got. He was a relatively passive person. He fought the police and he did throw a punch at her, but his crimes were mostly nonviolent. He was just caught in the criminal lifestyle. Who did this to you?

She wandered around the room, catching Detective Spring's glares and hearing her not so subtle sighs. Adelaide couldn't recall anything specific from when she had been in his apartment last but she knew he didn't have much. No computer, no television. He couldn't afford it because he barely worked and what he did make was spent on drugs. Hell, the last time she was there he had been hiding every little thing he had before coming to the door. His hiding spot.

Adelaide froze, scanning the floor for something she knew was there. She had been in the apartment about a year prior and had nearly broken her damn ankle stumbling into his hiding spot. John hadn't known it was there at the time, but he certainly did after that.

"Could you get on with it? Detective Fortune and I would like to get back to the other crime scene before dark," Detective Spring sneered at her.

Adelaide considered not showing them what was under their noses, just out of spite. But, then she really would have been doing something wrong. She looked back at Brad. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression. Her eyes went straight to the marks on his neck and she turned away before her stomach could roil completely.

"Of course, Detective. Anything for the Elko PD," she said with a fake smile. She found the notch she was looking for in the wood floor. She pushed the tip of her stiletto heel against it and was satisfied to see the wood plank pop up.

"What the fuck?" Detective Spring exclaimed. She pushed Adelaide out of the way to see the hiding spot. "You knew about this the entire time and you didn't tell us?"

That wasn't the case of course, but Adelaide merely raised her eyebrows at her.

"Adelaide," Brad started. "Did you know about this before?"

Adelaide leveled a glare at him. Of course he would believe that about her. "Yes," she replied, intending to say that she had forgotten about it until just that minute.

"That's obstruction," Detective Spring snapped at her. "I should arrest you right now."

Brad went to dispute what Jen had said but Adelaide talked over him. "Then do it!" she yelled. Brad was surprised, never having heard her raise her voice. "Let's go Detective Spring, arrest me. I know you want to!"

"I should," Jen yelled back. "I should do it for every woman that's ever been beaten by a man who was let off the hook! What happened? Did he charm you? You fuck a wife beater, you worthless piece of shit?"

"Yeah, I did. Every night of my life," she replied, her voice loud and strained.

Brad couldn't believe what was happening and for some reason he was frozen and speechless. He needed to step in, stop this, stop Jen. But, he couldn't make his mouth work. Adelaide was seething mad, red with anger, her fists clenched at her sides.

"I could have guessed," Jen scoffed. "Get this straight. You are not a cop and Brad doesn't want you. So there's no need for you to be here."

Adelaide felt as though she had been slapped. She chanced a glance at Brad whose face was flushing red, the scar on his face a stark white in contrast. She couldn't stay in that room for one more second, not with either of them.

Before she could leave she heard Brad's voice, finally. "Jen, shut the fuck up. You are out of line."

She didn't stick around to hear anything he else he might have said as she fled the apartment. It was cowardly but she didn't feel like she had any other option. In fact, she was so desperate that she called the office for a ride. She started walking toward the road, needing to get away from all the death at that apartment complex and all the emotion of those two detectives. Brad and Detective Spring. Together. Brad had lied to her and it made her want to throw up. That she allowed herself to get so attached to him in such a short time was inexcusable. She was smarter than that. Usually. Her throat burned with the effort to keep tears at bay. She would not show her weakness, no matter how weak she was feeling. She had just been able to draw her first non-shaky breath when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Adelaide," Brad was calling to her.

She kept walking but he was faster than her. He made his way in front of her, blocking her path. Adelaide refused to look at him.

"Adelaide, just wait one minute," he told her, his breathing regulating from running to her. "Please let me talk to you."

Adelaide's temper flared at the calmness in his voice. "Why?" she snapped.

"I...I want to explain," he stuttered.

"Explain what? Why you lied to me? Or why you led me on?" she asked angrily. "If you needed information about my clients I would have complied even though I was a worthless piece of shit."

"I don't feel that way," he growled at her.

"Oh really? Well I guess I was confused since Detective Spring said it and you didn't say anything."

"I was...stunned, I guess," he tried to tell her. She started to walk away again but Brad reached out to stop her. "Don't walk away from me," he said, making sure his voice was soft.

"What do you want, Brad?" she yelled at him. "Obviously it's not me."

"It is you," he told her forcefully. "I made a mistake."

She scoffed. "Yeah, me too."

"Jen knows that it will never happen again. I was just so focused on you, wanting you. Jen showed up at my door and for some reason that I'll be regretting for the rest of my life, I used her as a poor substitute. For you." He couldn't believe that he just told Adelaide that, letting her know how badly he wanted her, but he needed to make her understand. He would have said anything so that she wouldn't walk away from him.

"That's a lie," she said, but the fight was taken out of her voice. She watched him carefully as his cheeks heated in embarrassment. He maintained eye contact with her. He was clutching her arms like she was a life boat for a drowning man.

"I'm not lying," he replied. "Please believe me."

Adelaide shook her head, willing herself to stay strong because even though her mind was angry at him, her heart started to believe him. No, she told herself. She heard Detective Spring's voice in her head. Every night for the last month.

"You're a liar, Brad," she told him strongly. "You've been with her for a month and you played me." She forced a laugh. "You are good. I bought into you, hook, line and sinker. Your clearance rate must be astounding."

"Stop," he growled, not being able to stand another minute of her talking to him that way. He couldn't let her believe that about him. "I don't know where you're getting your information but it's wrong." He was getting angry again. How could she think that about him?

"Straight from the horse's mouth," she snapped at him.

"What?"

"You heard me. Detective Spring told me everything, but I believed you when you said it wasn't true. But I'm just an idiot. I've always been an idiot," she told him. "I thought you were...No, it isn't even about you. It's about me. I thought I had changed but I haven't."

She thought that she had finally been attracted to a good man. One that wouldn't cheat on her every five minutes and then come home and find any excuse to beat on her. At the end, she had become such a pathetic version of her former self that she couldn't even look at herself in the mirror. In the years that she had been free of Brennan, she had found other men attractive, but never acted on it, afraid that she was just going after more of the same. With Brad, she was so completely overwhelmed by her attraction that she thought he had to be different. She had never been so attracted to anyone, not even Brennan. Not even in the beginning when he was sweet and nice.

Brennan really had been sweet early on, but she had also been naïve. Flowers and kind words had done her in quickly. She had been young and by the time Brennan had turned the tables on her, she felt incapable of leaving. Looking back she could see how he slowly but surely took every single piece of her. She wouldn't let it happen again. She wasn't so young anymore and she sure as hell wasn't naïve anymore. Brad was more of the same. She had stupidly let herself believe that she had finally chosen someone different. But, it was engrained in her. She would always pick men that hurt her. It was all she knew.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked her.

She shut her eyes against the tears that threatened. She would not cry here in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Brennan loved to see her tears. "It means you're not the problem. I am."

"I don't understand," he said, trying his best to stay calm. If he had it his way, he'd be hauling her ass back to his house and keeping her there until she understood that she was safe with him. If she would just listen to him, he could make her understand.

She looked at him, really looked at him. She instinctively knew that he would never physically harm her, never lay a hand on her. But, he would hurt her. She would not be enough for him, especially with Detective Spring attached to his hip day in and day out. Yes, he'd definitely hurt her. Before she could think of an answer for him, a car screeched to a stop next to them. She jumped, initially wanting to reach out to Brad for help, but she held onto her control and kept her arms down at her sides. She let out a pent up breath when she saw Jack behind the wheel. He had come to pick her up.

"Adelaide, is everything ok?" he asked.

She nodded as she walked away from Brad to the passenger side of the vehicle. Brad watched her but his attention diverted to her boss who was also watching her walk. He didn't like the way he was looking at her, jealousy flaring inside him. Of course she called him for help. She had men crawling out of the woodwork for her. She stopped briefly at the passenger side door since Jack didn't have the decency to open it for her. She made eye contact with him for a moment before she turned away.

"Adelaide," he called to her. She stopped and looked at him. "It wasn't a month. It was once."

She got into the car wordlessly and Brad looked back to Jack.

"I don't think I'll be authorizing Adelaide any more field work with your department," Jack snapped at him.

Brad nodded diplomatically and said, "I understand."

He stepped back and let Adelaide leave. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. But, he had to do it. He had fucked up. Not long ago, he would have cut his losses, knowing that she would never speak to him again. Now he was going to work his ass off to earn her trust back. She wouldn't be absent from his mind for a long time, if ever. And, he didn't want her to be. He liked feeling the way he felt when she was around. That probably made him selfish, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Brad!"

The shrill voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. He looked up the hill to the apartment from which Adelaide fled. Jen was standing at the top holding up an evidence bag. He sighed, taking one last look at the direction of Jack's car before trudging back up the hill to the woman who had ruined everything. No, that was a cop out. He had started it. Jen was just the body that happened to be there.

"What?" he snapped at her when she was within hearing distance.

"Found his phone, but the asshole has a lock on it so I'll have to turn it over to forensics to see if they can get it open."

"Fine," he huffed.

"What's got your panties in a wad?"

"Are you fucking kidding?" he growled at her, his voice low.

"She let a wife beater go, Brad, she.."

"You know nothing!" he nearly yelled at her, keeping his voice as low as he could. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Brad," she started.

"I'll be in the courtyard crime scene."

He turned away from her before he really told her how wrong she was. It wasn't his place to be telling Adelaide's life story and he certainly didn't want Jen to get her manipulative hands on any information she didn't need. He made it to the scene just as one of the crime scene techs that he had a fairly good working relationship with was ducking under the tape. She waved to him as he approached.

"Detective Fortune," she greeted him. "I thought you'd be here earlier."

"I was," he sighed. "I got caught up at another one of the apartment crime scenes. What do you have?"

"A whole lot of nothing," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Come on, Shana. I'm desperate. Anything, any little clue."

She bit her lip and all it did was remind Brad what it did to him when Adelaide did that same thing.

"Well you know about the shoe print because they found that last night. And you know about the shell casing."

"Wait, no, I don't know about a shell casing," he stopped her.

"Oh, I thought they found that last night. .40 caliber Federal brand, sent it to the lab, high priority per the Captain. As I hear it, Mike is digging the slug out of the vic's chest and hand delivering it to the firearms guys."

"That's something!" he said brightly.

She nodded and smiled at him. "The grass was disturbed in the area, pulled up in some spots so we think he was looking for the shell casing."

"Definitely not prepared," Brad muttered to himself.

"Based on the blood splatter in the grass, or lack thereof, I think your doer had a good amount of blood blow back on him. The shoe print was void of blood so his shoe should show some splatter."

"Ok," he said, making note of everything she was saying. It was the first tangible lead. Proof that the doer had left something behind and taken something with him. Brad found renewed hope that he'd be able to catch this killer. The media would catch on soon enough. The status of the victim's kept it out of the news so far but there was only so much damage control that could be done. Four bodies. He had to focus because every time he thought about the bodies piling up, he pictured them leading straight back to Adelaide. He knew she wasn't involved but whoever was doing this wanted her to know about it, wanted her to hurt. Brennan Conway. His attention had to be solely focused on finding the murderer, independent from his feelings for Adelaide. The fact that his feelings for her were deeply entrenched in the case was going to make that a difficult process. He should have handed it off to someone else the second he realized his focus wasn't entirely on the murders. His focus was keeping Adelaide safe. And in that same thought, he didn't trust any other detective to take the case and keep her safe.

"Shana, you've actually given me some hope," he told her.

"Happy to help," she replied. Her gaze slipped off his face and focused behind him. "Your partner looks pissed."

Brad turned around to see Jen with her hands on her hips staring at him like she was about to take his head off. He blew out a breath, thanked Shana again and walked over to Jen. He relayed the information Shana had given him. Jen kept the same pissed off look on her face the entire time he was talking. The only indication that she was listening to him at all were the grunts she gave after listing each piece of new evidence.

"I'll meet you back at the office," he said to fill the dead air after he had finished detailing the evidence. Jen still hadn't said anything. He started to walk away when she finally spoke.

"You fucking used me," she spat out.

He turned around. "And you used me right back." She started to deny it but he interrupted her. "Don't waste your breath. Your reputation in that department speaks volumes."

"You're an asshole," she hissed.

"So they tell me," he growled, feeling every bit like what she had accused. He had used her as a very poor substitute for Adelaide and the only reason he was sorry was because he hurt Adelaide, not because he hurt Jen. He supposed that truly did make him an asshole.

There was a long silence again before Jen said, "You know who uses Federal ammunition? Probation and Parole officers."

He rolled his eyes. "And how do you know that?"

"Check if you want. You know I'm not wrong. She's in on this."

"Then why did you bring her here? And why did she willingly give us evidence that we would have never found otherwise?"

"Misdirection."

"Beat your head against the wall if you want. I'm going to go after the real murderer."

"And who is that?" she snapped.

"Her ex husband. Brennan Conway."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He walked away from her, somewhat satisfied with the startled look she was sporting. Served her right for making assumptions and treating Adelaide the way she did. He got back in his car and instead of driving straight to the office where he knew he would have another confrontation with Jen, he stopped by the crime lab to see if he could pressure them into printing out his crime scene pictures faster. He would also stop by the ME's office and see what Mike could tell him about Messer's autopsy.

As he walked into the crime lab, he was saved a trip as Mike was walking out. "Mike, just the man I was looking for."

"You're about two blocks too far north," he replied. "What can I do for you?"

"You saved me a trip. I was wondering what you could give me on Messer's autopsy."

"I just dropped off the round that I dug out of his chest. Hand delivered in the hopes that you can keep another body from hitting my table."

Brad winced at the implication. "I'm doing what I can," he said, trying to keep the heat out of his voice.

Mike scrubbed his hands down his face. His normally off color personality was unusually dulled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. But, four murders in as many days....We've never had a run like that and it's starting to...well...Nevermind." He took a deep breath and Brad knew all too well what he was feeling. That off color personality could only go so far to keep him sane. It would all catch up to him eventually, as it seemed to be doing.

"I...don't know what to say." Brad told him. He didn't know if anything he said could be even close to sufficient.

"Me either." He sighed and deliberately brightened his mood for Brad's benefit. "I don't have my notes in front of me, but Messer died pretty much instantly. I sent his clothes to the crime lab but one of my assistants did a cursory check and we think that he was shot at a range of about one to two feet. I was able to dig out the slug that was in pretty good shape. Messer would have died instantly. The bullet hit his heart, bounced off the ribs and lodged in the muscles in the back."

"No signs of struggle, no signs he tried to get away?" Brad asked, hopeful.

"None that I can discern," he replied. "Not what you wanted to hear, I know."

"Well can't make up evidence," he sighed.

"Nah, tempting though," Mike said with a smile. "If you're interested in doing prison time which I'm not. I dropped the soap in my own shower today."

Mike's joke did the trick and Brad finally smiled. He was relieved that Mike was back to normal, even though he knew it was a defense mechanism. Still, it was just a little piece of normal back in Brad's life and he was appreciative.

"I appreciate your help, Mike. Now, tell me, did you notice who is working in the photograph unit today?"

"Stacy."

"Is she in the mood to be charmed?" Brad asked. He was pretty good at fake flirting. It was real flirting that he trouble with. What Brad didn't know was that women were more receptive to the fake flirting than he thought. The longer than necessary looks or whisper behind his back weren't always about the scar as he thought they were.

"I'm sure she could be persuaded. Good luck and God speed," he replied with a two finger salute.

Brad walked in the building just as his phone started ringing. He looked at the screen and saw it was Jen calling. Probably wondering where the hell he was. He ignored the call and went about trying to get the photos of the Messer crime scene. A half an hour later, he walked out with a set of 8x10s and a fake promise to Stacy that he would be back in a less professional capacity one of these days. He had also weaseled a time frame out of the firearms guys as to when he would get the results from their analysis. The next afternoon. He sent Jen a text instead of calling her back, letting her know that he was on his way back with the crime scene photos.

After returning from the apartment complex with Jack, Adelaide had shut herself in her office and finally allowed herself to cry. She didn't know why she was crying as hard as she was. After all, it was nothing new. Another man that would hurt her. And, really she should have been happy. Brad was a big reason that she didn't want to flee Elko. Now, that reason was gone. She had no other real ties. She and Rush could be out as early as tomorrow. But, she couldn't do that to her co-workers. She would clean up her files so that when she fled and sent a registered letter from a decoy location telling them that she quit, the transition would be easy. She just needed to stave off Brennan for a few days so she could get everything worked out. She wasn't so sure he was going to come out of the woodwork just yet anyway. She didn't exactly know what his plan was. But, if he was the one murdering all these people, he would want to stay as far hidden as he could. She suspected that his real motive would be to bring her back home, back to Joliet. Maybe he believed that he would get her attention, let her know what he was capable of and actually get away with it. A bully tactic. To scare her home.

It had worked in the past, so there would be no reason that Brennan wouldn't think that it wouldn't work again. But, she had grown up a lot in the three years that she was gone. She had become strong, much stronger than she ever was even when she was a cop. She had cultivated a steely resolve to never let another man treat her the way all the men in her life had treated her. Which led her right back to Brad. Why did he have to lie to her? Why had he led her on? He could have just been a pretty face that walked into her office one day and out the next. But, no, he had looked at her. He had looked at her like he wanted her. Just remembering the way he looked at her made her body heat all over again. Which in turn, made the anguish wash over her once more.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the task at hand. Get the cases together, get ready to leave. She'd have to do things less than legally this time around. She couldn't risk having Brennan follow her paper trail again. She had misjudged how dedicated he would be in tracking her down. He had always been lazy about everything, but having his wife leave was a different story she supposed. She had probably made him look like an ass in front of everyone. After all, the entire police force of Joliet knew that he beat his wife and they certainly wouldn't be quiet about it. She missed them, her brothers at the Department. They had been her real family and she had run from them as fast as she had run from Brennan. It was just as well. She was too ashamed to face them again.

She wondered what she was going to do with her life. She couldn't go into any facet of law enforcement. It would probably have to be good old fashioned waitressing. Cash tips, not traceable. She laughed a humorless laugh at her predicament. She'd make less than most of her clients. She rested her elbows on her desk, leaning forward and rubbing her eyes. At least she'd be alive. Why had they died? Why had Brennan come back? Hadn't she served enough time in hell to warrant some peace? There was a knock at her door.

Evidently not.

She sighed and ran her fingers under her eyes clearing away any smudged make-up as a result of her crying bout. She called out for whoever was at her door to come in and plastered a fake smile on her face when Rich appeared on the other side.

"Hey, I heard you were at the crime scenes again today," he told her, sitting in the chair across from her desk, dropping a bag at his feet.

She took a deep breath that didn't entirely mask her shutter. "Yes."

"Well, I didn't know if anyone offered to just sit and listen to you if you needed to talk about it," he told her, genuine care showing in his face.

Fresh tears threatened her as her throat closed with emotion. "Geez, Rich," she managed to say. "Go ahead and make me cry why don't you." She gave him as much of a smile as she could muster.

He returned the sad smile. "Well, I just know that it's hard to deal with that kind of thing. And I think that Detective that was around the other day was more interested in getting you in bed then getting your perspective on the crime scene."

Adelaide nearly choked. "Rich!" she exclaimed, her cheeks turning pink with an unwanted blush.

He laughed and she knew he had said it to get her mind off the murders. For that she was eternally grateful. "It's true. You should have seen the way he was looking at you when you were talking to me," he told her with a smile. "I think it was a combination of 'fuck off' and 'don't touch her' with a little bit of 'I bet she's hot naked' thrown in there."

Adelaide actually laughed and threw a pencil at him. "You kiss your wife with that mouth?"

"Yep, she likes it dirty," he replied with a wink. Adelaide laughed again and the rigidness that was in her shoulders making her back ache slowly began to relax. She sat back in her chair, her eyes no longer full of sadness. "Ah, there you are in there," Rich said.

"Mission accomplished?" she giggled.

"Exactly. Don't work too hard tonight," he told her, getting up from the chair. "And I was serious about being around if you just need someone to talk to."

"I know you were. I think I'm ok for now," she told him, not wanting the sadness to return. It would as soon as he left. She would start to think about leaving and rebuilding, knowing that guys like Rich were few and far between as far as friends go. She smiled. "You're one of the good ones, Rich."

"Well, duh," he said. He hefted his bag over his shoulder. "I'm headed out early. Have a good day. You should think about cutting out early, too."

"What's that?" she asked, indicating the bag.

"Softball stuff. I play on a team with some of the guys," he told her. "I know what you're thinking. Smart, handsome and athletic, too? Yes, Adelaide, I'm the whole package," he said as he left her office, no doubt satisfied that he had coaxed another laugh out of her.

As soon as her door was shut she resumed her work. Rich's antics had given her some energy. She would allow herself to think about the loss of him and any other person that had befriended her at another time. Rush always had a shoulder she could cry on later.

Brad walked into the lion's den quietly, trying to avoid letting Jen know he was back until he could decompress for a few seconds. But, she was in the entry to his cubicle within the minute. She had covered the marks on her neck with make-up and he huffed out a breath in relief. He just hoped to God his own marks faded a lot.

"Fuck you, Fortune," she said immediately.

He sighed. "What now, Jen?"

"I'm your partner," she hissed at him, lowering her voice when she noticed that she had drawn some of the other detectives' attention.

"And?"

"And you're choosing that PO over me, and no I'm not talking about sexually, asshole. I'm talking about the case. You won't even consider that she's involved."

"She's not," he growled. Jen flinched and somewhere deep in him, he felt a little bad. "I think it's her ex-husband. He has been stalking her and was here prior to the first murder. I think it's all some terrible idea to get her attention."

"Did you even verify any of this?" she asked him.

"I haven't had the chance since she told me." He replied, already typing Brennan's name into his search engines and requesting a full background.

"Well I checked her out."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You might be," she said, tossing a file on his desk and walking away.

Brad stared at it, not wanting to look at it. So that's what Jen had been doing when she was off doing something "personal" and being constantly glued to her phone. He didn't want the file but he had a perverse need to know what was inside. He already knew nothing would change his feelings for her, but the cop in him needed to know. No...the potential lover, if he was lucky, also needed to know. What exactly had she run from? He didn't want to give Jen the satisfaction of being interested in Adelaide's background, but he knew he would look at it eventually. So he didn't pretend to ignore it for more than a few minutes. He opened the file and on top was a color photo, most likely a DMV photograph from when she was Adelaide Conway. She looked younger, still beautiful but her eyes were...haunted.

He flipped past the things he didn't care about such as her credit score which was crappy, probably due to her divorce and letting anything in her name default. Creditors were after her and she had about $13,000 in debt from credit cards and utilities on a home in Joliet Illinois. There was an arrest record there. She didn't mention anything about being arrested. The charge was filing a false report. The mug shot was absent. He scanned the arrest report and found a modification in the subsequent sheet showing the charges dismissed. No one should have been able to draw it out, but Jen had found it. He wondered if Jen thought that his opinion of Adelaide would change after knowing that. He rolled his eyes, thinking that Jen was just grasping at straws. Then he turned the page and ran into what Jen knew.

It was an internal investigation. The date was prior to her arrest and they cleared it with no clearance code the day after the arrest. After she ran. The internal investigation included pictures. He scanned the report quickly, drawing out the facts. She was involved with a drug dealer, a murderer. They had pictures of her with him in plain clothes, pictures of money exchanging hands. What the fuck? Brad focused on the pictures, looking at Adelaide in them. She was much thinner than she was now. Almost unhealthy. Drugs? Her hair was drawn back tightly and her face...well she was still beautiful. But, she looked scared. One particular picture captured the man, the dealer touching her. Her discomfort was visible in the picture, as though it captured her in the middle of a flinch. She wore a short sleeve shirt in the picture and Brad could make out bruises up and down her forearms.

Fury lit in him like a pilot light. There had to be an explanation for this. After all, she hadn't been brought up on charges. The internal investigation was closed without charges. Whatever was going on, he knew one thing for sure. She hadn't told him the whole fucking story. His jaw clenched as he shuffled past the pictures, unable to look at them anymore. She had been working with fucking drug dealers? Murderers?

The rest of the background was prior to her marriage. Her name had been Adelaide O'Malley. She had been smart, her college transcripts and highschool transcripts were there, but he angrily flipped past them. He reached a page that gave him pause. Call history. It was a list of every time the police were called to her residence. The house she lived in with Elena and Peter O'Malley had police activity on sixteen separate occasions. They were classified as Disturbances and the reports were not included in the file. Jen must not have received them yet. Had Adelaide been causing trouble before she even met Conway? Could she be involved? No, he told himself forcefully. The woman he knew now was nothing like the woman in that file.

To prove it to himself, he shut the file and buried it deep in his drawer. It meant nothing. She was not involved. The urge to pull out his phone and call her, demand answers, was strong but he resisted. Instead he pulled out the crime scene photos, determined to find something there. The pictures were uninspiring. They told him nothing he didn't already know or suspect. The shell casing they found was ground into the dirt on the scene as though someone accidentally stepped on it. It was Federal brand and Jen was probably right about Parole Officers carrying that brand. Yet, so did their department and most law enforcement agencies. It wouldn't hold up, it was not enough for a warrant.

The entire scene screamed unplanned. With the other scenes, along with the fact that a blunt force instrument was used, the killer had a plan, made sure to smudge his footprints, cleaned up in the bathroom, left nothing behind. This seemed like it was spontaneous. The killer had to have been caught doing something by Messer. And Messer knew him well enough to walk right up to him.

"Who do you know?" he mumbled to the picture. "What did you see?"

He dropped the pictures and picked up some of the reports that had been left in his box. The tox screen was in on Kyle Alton. Methamphetamine and oxycontin. No news there except Adelaide had said that Kyle would not have smoked anything. Why was it in his system then? He flipped through to the tox screens for Matt Ludke and John Mansfield. Both were back and both showed methamphetamines. Another link to all three of them. Except, meth was a common drug in the area. He lowered his forehead to his desk, beating himself against it three sharp times before sitting up straight. He flipped through some more paperwork when the fingerprint analyst letter head on a fax page drew his attention. They had a hit on the prints in Matt Ludke's apartment. Jake Alton.

"Jen," he called.

She appeared in his doorway, sucking on a sucker. He pretended not to notice, but he knew she had done that to get to him. His body obeyed him that time around, and it did not react to her.

"What?"

"We need to get out and try to find Jake Alton again," he told her. He was up and putting on his jacket before she answered. He handed her the fingerprint analysis. "Let's hit the street."

CHAPTER TWELVE

Adelaide jerked awake at her desk. Something had startled her and in her sleepy haze she couldn't identify what it was. She stopped and listened for a moment before she realized the time. It was almost six o'clock on a Friday. The office was supposed to close at five and most people left by two at the latest. Fridays were a typical half day since most officers stayed late at least one night a week. She blinked rapidly a few times, trying to clear herself from her haze. There was a knock at her door and she reached for her gun, but remembered that she had locked it in the gun lockers after she had returned from searching Kyle's apartment the day before. Had it only been a day? It felt like a month. She had forgotten to get it when she went out with Brad to get into Matt's apartment. It was completely unlike her to not have it on her every second. She was surprised to find herself without it. But, she was being paranoid again. It was six o'clock. The security was probably trying to oust her so they could close down her floor. They housed the bottom floor of the three floor building and once everyone was out, security could stop patrolling it.

She stood up and opened the door, saying, "I'm sorry I'm so late." She was cut off by an excruciating blow to the side of the head that knocked her to the ground. Her vision blurred and her stomach immediately turned over. She tried to look up but the movement caused searing pain behind her eyes. Whoever it was grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the chairs her clients usually sat in. Her stomach did another turn and she vomited on the man. He smacked her but that time it hurt much less. He hadn't said anything yet and she was aware of him moving to the other side of her desk. Her pulse was racing and she couldn't hear anything past the roaring of blood in her ears. She reached up to her face and felt blood trickling down. Her eyes finally started to focus and she tried to control her heaving breaths.

She looked up and found herself staring at the barrel of a gun, most likely what she was hit with initially. Her pulse amped up a level but she forced herself to look past the gun. The man sitting in front of her was a pretty good version of a strung out Kyle Alton. She quickly scanned the room, looking for what she could reach as a weapon. Everything was out of reach, even the phone.

"You did this to us," the man said.

Adelaide lowered her eyes, pressing her fingers against them to try and relieve some of the pressure building. "Jake, right?" she asked, her voice sounding far away to her. She made a conscious effort to keep her tone even although she was terrified. Flashbacks of Brennan came to her mind unwillingly. She forced them away, trying to focus on the present danger.

"You did this," he said again, ignoring her. "You wouldn't let us see each other."

"You caught a case together," she started to defend herself, shutting up when he leaned forward with the gun.

"He was afraid of you. You knew that if he talked to me, I would help him. You killed him," he accused her, emphasizing his words with thrusts of the gun.

"What?" she exclaimed. "What possible reason would I have?" She wondered why she was even asking him. Jake was starting to shake badly. He was coming down off whatever high he was on and he would not be thinking clearly at all. Her vision all tunneled to his finger on the trigger of his gun. He was shaking so violently that she fully expected he would pull the trigger without intent. Hell, he would probably pull the trigger with intent in a minute or so anyway.

"Were you fucking him? Did he want to stop? Is that why you killed him?" he snapped at her.

She took a deep breath to try and calm herself. The ludicrousness of his accusation worked in her favor, getting her to settle. "Jake, no. I didn't kill him. I wanted to help Kyle. I wanted him to succeed," she tried to convince him, knowing that it was useless. She knew she would die if something didn't go her way soon. She leaned forward, slipping her stiletto heel off her foot and clutching it. It was all she had and she held onto it like a lifeline.

He acted as though he didn't even hear her. He got up and stalked forward, suddenly not shaking so badly. Adelaide's heart dropped and fear invaded every part of her senses. This was it. She wished she had done things differently. She thought of Brad and how she felt about him. She should have told him. Despite Detective Spring. She should have told him and maybe he would have picked her.

"Now you're going to know how it feels to get fucked," he snarled, grabbing her by the bicep and hauling her off the chair.

He threw her to the wall, her body hitting with a sickening thud. She couldn't breathe, couldn't focus on anything other than the fear. She looked at Jake's face and it morphed into Brennan's. It was going to happen again. God, no. She had run from that. It couldn't happen again. He advanced on her and from somewhere deep inside of her, her training kicked in. She lashed out at him, connecting her knee to his upper thigh instead of the intended target of his groin.

He grunted as he stepped back. "Bitch," he said, pointing the gun at her and firing.

Adelaide flinched, shrugging away from the gun's aim and felt something hot burn her arm. Self-preservation kicked in and she rushed toward him, slamming her stiletto into his chest. It stuck. She gasped and stepped back, looking at what she had done. He dropped the gun as he clutched the heel with both hands and ripped it out. Adelaide watched in some kind of stunned stupor, vaguely feeling the warmth of the blood dripping down her arm and off her fingertips. They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before her gaze dropped to the gun. She went for it at the same time Jake did. She reached it first and Jake tackled her, knocking her head back against the floor. She fought the wave of nausea, not even feeling the pain and kicked out at him hard, this time hitting her target. He groaned and took a step back. Adelaide raised the gun and fired twice in rapid succession, almost surprised to see a red stain immediately appear on Jake's chest. It spread steadily and Jake fell to his knees, looking at her like he couldn't believe what had happened. Adelaide watched as though it were playing in slow motion. He fell, face first on the floor just inches from where she was inelegantly sprawled. The door burst open behind her and security rushed in.

Brad and Jen had been out for hours trying to track down Jake Alton and coming up empty every time. Bill Jenkins had given Brad some good starting places, crack dens and drug corners but Jake was one step ahead of them. He had been around earlier, scoring some heroin but no one knew where he would go to use it. It was starting to get late and Brad was getting frustrated. Jen suggested they stop for some dinner and then try to find Jake at his house later. He'd probably be higher than a kite, but they could take him in on a 24 hour hold and sober him up enough to talk.

They sat down at a table in an Italian restaurant that would have been an alright place for a date. He guessed that was why Jen picked it. She couldn't stand to lose out to someone else. Especially someone that Jen considered plain, beneath her. But, she had kept her flirting to a minimum while they were out searching and Brad appreciated that more than she could know. He needed to keep his mind focused on the case so that he could clear it. After he cleared it, he could focus on clearing things with Adelaide.

"Let's work through what we've got," she suggested, playing with the straw in her water. Brad had almost forgotten that she really was a good detective. He had lost track of that somewhere along the way as she pointed her finger at Adelaide. He was relieved that they were getting back on track. "Ok, we've got three dead felons, and a dead guy that housed them all. No common recent inmate releases to all three felons. They all have the same PO."

"They all had meth in their system," Brad added. "Jake Alton's fingerprints were in Kyle and Matt's apartments. All the prints aren't back on John's apartment yet but I don't think it would be too far fetched to think Jake's prints would be there, too."

"Possible." She played with the straw again, looking slightly embarrassed. "Tell me about your angle with her ex."

The her she meant was implied and did not need explanation. "He's here. In Elko," Brad told her. "He was here before the first murder. She thinks he's capable. He's been watching her so he would know who her clients were."

"What's his deal?"

"You read the article," he snapped. She nodded. "She was the victim, Jen. She was the cop and the victim. She let her husband off the hook."

She shook her head. "Can't be that simple. You saw her background."

"And I'm sure there's an explanation," he growled.

They both went quiet as a waiter brought their food. As soon as he was gone Jen said, "Open your mind, Brad. Get past her tits or whatever it is about her that has your head in your ass. Think about it objectively. These are three felons who she had problems with. She has a history of lying, of dealing with shady ass people. She is capable too."

"I..." he started then sighed. "I've considered it. You didn't see her face when we found Matt. She couldn't fake it. I mean, she nearly fainted."

"You're a man, Brad. And obviously you're more affected by females than I thought," she huffed. "She played you."

"No," he said, his voice had gone soft. "I played her."

Jen sighed. "You're in over your head."

He was ready to deny it when his portable radio crackled out his call sign. He acknowledged the call and waited to see what dispatch wanted from him.

"Patrol is out with a Marcus Cantrell. Do you want him taken in?"

"Negative, give me their 20 and we will go on scene." He wrote down the address and stood up from the table, tossing enough money to cover both their uneaten meals. Common knowledge in the police world: if he wanted something to happen, try and eat a meal on duty. "Let's go get some answers," he told Jen.

They rolled up on scene and found a patrol officer leaning on his vehicle. Marcus was in the backseat. Brad and Jen greeted him and asked what he had.

"Sorry, I couldn't sit in the car and listen to this kid anymore," the officer, David Jackson told them. "He won't shut the fuck up." He eyed Jen. "Excuse the language."

She winked at him. "No fucking problem."

He smiled and Brad rolled his eyes. Jesus, she's done every cop on the force. "Mind getting him out for us?"

Jackson nodded and opened the door. He reached in and pulled Marcus out. He got a look at Brad and Jen and immediately started talking.

"You said you were going to tell her that I hadn't screwed up. You completely fucked me over, man!" he yelled at Brad.

Jackson shook him, growling at him to watch his language.

"I did tell her, Marcus. But you didn't show up to work. You went on the run. Why?"

"Because she sent other POs to find out what I knew. He was going to kill me, I knew it. So I ran," he told them.

"How do you know she sent them?" Jen wanted to know.

"Because he said she did. The first guy did. The second guy, he's the one I thought was going to kill me. As soon as he asked about Kyle, I ran."

"What did he ask?" Brad questioned.

"He wanted to know what Kyle told me," he replied, nervously looking around.

"So let me get this straight, two different officers contacted you?" He nodded. "What did the first one ask?"

"He said Miss Adelaide sent him to find out if I had been flying straight." He paused.

"What?"

"Well, he asked me about Miss Adelaide. He said he knew that pieces of shit like me checked out our POs and he wanted to know what I knew about her."

Brad was confused just listening to Marcus. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him that he should fucking know already. I mean he was a PO, too."

"What did he do?"

"Told me to watch my back. Which is half the reason I ran when the other guy showed up. I didn't do anything and she's targeting me," he complained.

"Why would she do that?" Brad asked.

"Cause she thinks Kyle told me something. But he didn't! All he said was that he was in trouble. I didn't ask anything else and he didn't tell me anything else!"

"And you're sure he wasn't scared about possibly going to jail, that she was going to violate his parole?"

"No. If anything, before all this shit went down, he acted like it was cool to be on paper. Like it was hot that she told him what to do. Like he'd do her if he got the chance."

Brad's jaw clenched and he balled his fists at his sides. It would do no one any good if he smashed this kid's head against the window, but he sure as hell wanted to.

Marcus continued rambling. "I mean, he's not wrong. She is kinda hot. I mean, I've thought about it. We've all thought about it. I mean I think so. Most everybody says something about fucking their PO if it's a girl."

"Marcus, if you don't shut the hell up about fucking your PO and start talking about what we asked you, I'm going to knock the shit out of you," Brad interrupted him, surprising both Jen and Officer Jackson.

"Told you," Jackson mumbled, hiding a smile.

"Well, I'm just saying, that's how he was before. And then right before he died, he was acting scared. He didn't tell me why."

"What did these guys look like?" Brad asked. He heard Jen's phone go off and watched as she walked away to take the call. "Can you describe them?"

"Just typical white guys," Marcus replied, shrugging.

"Can you be any more specific?" Brad replied, impatiently. He kept an eye on Jen and watched as her gaze snapped to him, her eyes wide. Something was going down. What, he mouthed to her. She motioned for him that it was no big deal, keep talking to Marcus.

"Well, one wore a suit, one didn't. I don't know man," he said.

"Well guess what," he started as Jen walked back over to join back in the conversation. "You're the only living person who has seen these people, so you're going to be more specific."

"But I don't know!" he shrieked.

"Well, Officer Jackson, why don't you take him in and have him work with a sketch artist. And when he's released, make sure it's public," Brad said.

"You got it," Jackson replied.

"What the hell are you gonna do that for?" Marcus whined, struggling against Jackson maneuvering him back to the car.

"Well think about it, Marcus. They know you've seen them. They'll know we had you in custody. They'll think you talked."

"You can't do that! You're going to get me killed," he yelled at them.

"Not if you give us enough information to find them first," Brad replied, not at all worried about Marcus' safety. He should have cared, but the 'I'm gonna fuck my PO' comment eradicated any sympathy he may have felt for Marcus.

"Ok, ok. Um, one was tall like you, dark hair, white guy. Big, like muscle big. The other one was shorter, but still taller than me. He was thinner. I didn't get as close to that one."

"How did you know that they were POs? Did they show you a state badge?"

"They showed me badges. I don't know if they were state badges."

Brad rolled his eyes. He looked to Jen. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah, were you born this stupid?" she asked him.

"Fuck you!"

"Watch your God damn mouth," Brad yelled at him. "Officer Jackson, take him in for that sketch artist."

"Got it," he replied, and pushed a screaming and cursing Marcus back into the backseat of the cruiser.

Brad turned to Jen. "We need to go back and get pictures of all the male POs in the area and show them to Marcus. Maybe he can pick out one of these guys. I'll get a picture of Brennan Conway, too."

"That's not a bad idea. You think she's got more people under her doing her dirty work?"

"No I don't," he replied calmly. "I think Marcus has no idea what he's talking about. I think Conway is running the show. He'd have a badge. He's some kind of security guard." He had seen that on his computer while the background was still being assembled.

She sighed. "Brad..."

"Let's just swing by the station and make the line-up. Can't hurt to have Marcus look," he persuaded her.

"Alright, but we should probably make a stop before that."

"Where"

"County hospital," she said nonchalantly.

"For what?"

"Adelaide St. James just shot Jake Alton."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Adelaide sat on the hospital bed, her legs dangled over the side. She was cold and her head was pounding. She was only wearing her skirt and the camisole that she had on under her button down shirt. They had taken her shirt and shoes as evidence. Her skin was exposed and if it wasn't for the blinding headache and the fact that she had taken a life, she would have been much more upset about it than she was. The doctors had wanted her to strip and put on a gown, be admitted overnight but she had outright refused. They told her that she had a concussion and the gunshot had grazed her but the wound was deep. She didn't care. She just wanted to get out of the hospital.

She watched numbly as the doctor stitched her arm after giving her some local anesthesia. They had given her butterfly sutures over her right eye. She hadn't seen a mirror yet but she felt the hot swollen skin all the way down to her jaw. It wasn't going to be a pretty sight. The doctor's touch was gentle as he worked on her arm, but she couldn't help but flinch. Everything was feeling like a nightmare. The cops had showed up and one rode in the ambulance with her, asking her over and over again what had happened. She knew it was self-defense, but she also knew that it would be looked at it to see if charges would be filed. It was technically a homicide. She wondered if that meant Brad would show up eventually. He was a homicide detective after all.

The doctor was talking to her but she couldn't focus on what he was saying. Something about not sleeping for the next twelve hours. At that point, falling asleep and slipping into a coma seemed like a viable option. The headache was pounding so hard that she almost missed the pounding of the footsteps getting louder and closer. The door to her room flung open and all the air left her lungs. Brad filled the doorway, as he did with most doorways. She locked eyes with him. His eyes looked wild...scared.

"You can't be in here," the doctor said, pausing in a stitch.

"It's ok," Adelaide was able to say.

Brad didn't say a word, didn't take a step. He watched her like a hawk as the doctor finished sewing her wound. He wrapped the stitches with coban and stepped back. "I'd feel better if I knew you had someone to keep you awake."

"I won't be sleeping," she told the doctor with no emotion in her voice. She couldn't take her eyes off Brad. His chest was still heaving as though he had run a marathon. His eyes were intensely raking over every inch of her.

"Alright. Well, it's against my better judgment but I'll send a nurse in here with your discharge paperwork."

"Thank you," she said in barely a whisper.

The doctor walked toward the door and Brad side stepped out of his way, waiting until he was a few feet down the hall before he walked in and shut the door behind him. She was there, in one piece. Her face was battered, bruised and swollen. The resulting anger he felt was not entirely unexpected but the fear was new. He was scared out of his damn mind that something could have happened to her. The tears that he forced away and the tightening in his throat were something that he didn't have time for. He needed to make sure that she was alright, but he didn't know his place. The last thing she said to him was that he was a liar. She'd be well within her rights to tell him to get the hell out. So instead of running to her, he walked slowly, calculating her reception after each step.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked her.

"I'll live," she replied.

He'd never be able to describe to her all the things that ran through his mind after Jen told him that she had shot Jake Alton. He had thrown every expletive he could think of at her as he drove like a fucking Nascar driver to get to the hospital. She had casually mentioned that Jake had gotten a shot off first and Brad didn't remember even seeing any traffic after that. He was surprised that he somehow made it to the hospital in one piece. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think straight. He just needed to get to her, to see her alive. His stomach lurched every time he thought about Jake getting anywhere near her. He didn't know what he would have done if she had been hurt more seriously.

He took another couple steps, ending up standing in front of her. She was eye level with him while sitting on the elevated hospital bed. He watched as the pulse increased in the hollow of her throat. Being close to him affected her just as much as it affected him. He reached out and lightly skimmed the swollen skin on her cheek.

"He hurt you." He swallowed hard, moving his gaze to her arm. "He shot you." His voice was hard, angry.

"A little," she replied with a forced smile. She was glad he was there. She shouldn't be. He had played her, used her for information but when he was there, she felt...safer.

He grazed her arm with his fingers, sliding down, feeling her skin and checking the doctor's work. His hand hit a rigid spot in her skin. He dropped his gaze from her face to see what he felt. He turned her arm so the inside of her forearm was visible. A long jagged scar marred the inside of her arm, rough with scar tissue. He sucked in a breath as his mind processed what it was. A prior suicide attempt. He looked at her, but she wouldn't make eye contact with him. He realized that despite the recent heat, she had never worn a short sleeve shirt. She had never worn anything that didn't button almost up to her neck. He knew he shouldn't, but he took her avoidance as a chance to peruse the rest of her exposed skin. He counted nearly a dozen marks on her, none of which she had done to herself.

Brad's hand involuntarily clenched around her arm as he reigned in the urge to walk out the door, track down Brennan Conway and kill him..slowly. He took a deep breath and released her arm, not wanting to hurt her. Instead, he reached up and took her chin in his hand, turning her to look at him.

"This isn't the right time," he started. "But I need you to know that I didn't lie to you."

She finally made eye contact with him. She thought about some of her last thoughts when she believed Jake was going to kill her. She wished she had told Brad that she was interested. But now, faced with the moment to do it, she was chickening out. He had free reign to see her scars and she couldn't stand having anyone see them. They were just a sign of how pathetic she had once been.

"You didn't?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper of breath.

"No," he assured her. He closed his eyes for a moment, boldly resting his forehead against hers. She didn't move away. "I can't explain how scared I was when I heard what happened."

She shuddered. "He was crazy," she confided, holding tears at bay.

"You beat him," he mumbled, wanting so badly to feel her lips against his, to give her comfort.

"I..killed him. I've never killed anyone before," she told him, leaning back so she could look at him. "Why are you here?"

There were a lot of things he could say that would make sense including the fact that he was a cop and she had just killed someone but instead he gave her the God's honest truth. "I couldn't stay away from you."

A tear slipped from her lashes and she just wanted to sleep. Brad reached out and dried the tear with his thumb. "I don't know what to do," she whispered.

He slipped his hand in her hair. It was crusted with blood, but he didn't care. "Let me take you home."

Adelaide was about to answer him when the door flung open. She flinched and withdrew from Brad. Her boss Jack was at the door. His face was red and he looked just as wild eyed as Brad had a few minutes prior.

"Oh my God, Adelaide, are you alright?" he asked, rushing into the room.

Adelaide wrapped her left arm around her waist, self-consciously covering her scar. The movement had not gone unnoticed by Brad. He stepped back, allowing Jack to invade her personal space.

"I'm ok," she told him, not able to control a flinch as he touched her bandaged arm. "Really, Jack."

"I just can't believe it. A million thoughts raced through my head when I heard. I'm glad you killed him or I would have," he said angrily, surprising her.

"I..." she started when she noticed the door to her room open again, quietly this time. Detective Spring walked in. Adelaide snapped her gaze to Brad who was standing against the wall, fists clenched at his sides glaring at Jack. "What's going on?" she asked.

Jack turned to look behind him, taking in the two detectives in the room. "I thought you had already been questioned," he said to her.

"I have been," she replied, her eyes locked on Detective Spring. Something was wrong.

"Well you need to answer a few more," she told her, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning casually against a counter in the room.

"I answered all the officer's questions and I'm not up for doing it again," she snapped.

"Not about shooting some piece of shit junkie, about killing three others and their landlord," she said as though it was some small problem.

"What?" Adelaide exclaimed.

"Yeah, we found Marcus," she told her, her eyebrows raised, waiting for Adelaide's reaction.

"So?"

"So he told us everything," she snapped.

"Don't say anything Adelaide," Jack told her.

"What the fuck is going on?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. God, if the headache would just fade a little, she'd be able to think. She looked up at Brad. His glare was now leveled at Jen.

"We know your role in this," Jen pressed on.

"Brad," she nearly cried, her voice breaking, almost pleading.

He couldn't stand seeing her so broken. She kept squeezing her eyes shut, no doubt in considerable pain. He wasn't wrong about her. He knew he wasn't. "She didn't do this, Jen," he interjected, his voice low, lethal.

"And you don't know that," Jen replied, matching his voice.

"Adelaide, don't say a word," Jack said again, protecting her.

"You need to leave," Brad growled at him, hating that Jack was close to her, his hand hovering over touching her. He needed that man away from her. He needed Jen gone, too, but that would be harder.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jack yelled at him. "Not while you stand there accusing her of ridiculous crimes."

"Are you her attorney?" he asked facetiously. Jack's jaw clenched. "Then you need to leave." Brad took a step forward, every intention of making Jack leave.

Jack turned to Adelaide. "Don't say anything. I'm getting you a lawyer," he told her. He stalked to the door and threw it open. Before walking through it he looked back at them. "She didn't do shit and you know it."

The door slammed shut and Adelaide jumped. "Can someone tell me what the hell we're talking about?" she asked wearily.

"Why is Marcus afraid of you?" Jen asked.

"He isn't," she said. "He's a good client, drops clean, has a job."

"Well he was terrified that your henchman was going to kill him which is why he was on the run."

"My what?" She shook her head, then clutched her stomach at the ensuing nausea. "I didn't do anything wrong," she managed to say.

"Bullshit," Jen retorted. Adelaide slid down from the bed, feeling a little unsteady on her feet. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving," she snapped.

"No, you're not."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Not yet, but you will be."

"Well until then, I'm leaving," Adelaide yelled and stormed out the door. A last glance into the room showed Brad, chest heaving, fists balled, ready to lay into Jen.

She started walking, not sure what she was going to do. She didn't have any money or even any shoes. She was just going to have to walk home, consequences be damned. Would Brennan find her? Probably. But at that moment, she just couldn't find it in her to care. Let him kill her. What the fuck difference would it make? She heard the pounding of shoes against linoleum again. Brad passed her and stopped in front of her, blocking her path. He stared at her, looking like he wanted to touch her, but he didn't. Why did he keep running up to her and doing absolutely fucking nothing?

"What?" she snapped at him.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

He raked his hands through his hair, back and forth, trying to come up with the right thing to say.

"Let me make this easy for you, Brad," she started. "I want a lawyer. There, now legally you have to leave me alone."

"You know I don't think you had anything to do with this," he told her angrily. "Give me that much credit."

"Then what do you want?" she asked, the last words catching as her throat closed in an effort not to cry.

"Let me take you home," he told her again. "I won't let you walk. You're not wearing any shoes. You're ex is stalking you. I don't want to be called to your murder." She didn't answer him so he took a risk, reaching out and laying his hands on her shoulders. "I won't let you walk," he repeated.

She looked up at him, wanting so badly to be able to trust him. Her eyes flicked to his neck, involuntarily. The marks had faded a bit, but the sight of them still made her feel sick. She looked up higher, into his eyes. They were almost pleading with her. He was worried that she would say no. As if she ever really could; as if it would matter to him if she did. She realized that she affected him and that relieved her, even though she didn't know why.

Brad waited, his pulse racing as he touched her bare shoulders. Her skin was warm and soft despite the scars that he pretended he didn't notice. He wanted to drag his fingers over every scar, kiss them so she would know that they could be turned into something beautiful instead of something ugly that she needed to hide. He could identify with her. He knew what it was to be ashamed of scars. Perhaps that's why she had seemed so accepting of him, with the scar that disfigured him to everyone else. He sucked in a breath as her eyes raised to his. He quelled the murderous rage he felt as seeing her face damaged in the way it was. Instead, he focused on the way her beautiful ice blue eyes seemed to cut straight to his core. Please let me take you. Shockingly, she took a step forward, resting her head against his chest. Without her heels, the top of her head didn't quite reach his shoulder. He shuddered out a breath as he slid his hands around her, pressing her closer to him.

She needed this. She needed him. Just for a little while. She had taken someone's life that night. She couldn't make any other decisions, small or large. She just needed someone to take over that task for her. She knew that she might have been making the wrong move. After all, he had slept with someone else just the night before. But, she had stopped fighting her body's urge to want him. She had stopped arguing with her brain about being attracted to him. She simply let go, and let it happen. She slipped her hands under his suit coat, drawing a little strength from his warmth.

"Ok," she whispered.

Her hands gripping his back took him by surprise. He initially froze and hoped like hell she didn't notice because he didn't want her to withdraw. He never let people touch him the way he let Adelaide touch him. Despite never wanting her to remove her hands, as soon as she gave him the go ahead, he took her and walked her out to his car before too involved bosses or too involved partners could interrupt them again. She curled up in the passenger seat, making herself as small as possible. The ride had been eerily quiet, with Brad obsessively checking that she hadn't fallen asleep. He had heard what the doctor said, knew she had a concussion. Despite the severity of the situation, he could think of several ways he could keep her awake. Guilt washed over him for his carnal thoughts, but not enough to ease his body's reaction to them. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to reduce the sudden pressure against his pants.

"I could have let him live," she said, suddenly.

"What?" Brad asked softly.

"I could have just incapacitated him. I could have shot him in the leg, in the arm," she clarified, quietly.

"No, that's not your training. When you shoot, you shoot to kill. You can't train to incapacitate because when you need to kill, you might not. You know that," he told her, trying to remain as non-judgmental as possible.

"He was high. He didn't know what he was doing," she replied, close to crying. "In his mind, I killed Kyle." She shuddered almost violently. "He...he would have killed me. He would have..." She trailed off, remembering Jake's words. Now you're going to get fucked. She shuddered again.

Brad pulled over into a dark parking lot, putting the car in park. The devastation in her voice squeezed his heart so hard he could barely breathe. All he knew was that he needed her in his arms. He reached over to her, taking her by the shoulders. She stiffened momentarily but soon after turned liquid, letting him guide her across the center console into his lap. She leaned her head against his shoulder, eventually letting out a pent up sob that immediately relieved some of the pounding pressure on her head.

She felt Brad's strong arms wrap around her, cocooning her safely inside them. She burrowed deep, taking in his scent. It was strong, crisp, clean with a hint of sweat. His hand on her hip burned through her skirt, sending a streak of heat straight to her core, even though the gentle touch was not meant for that. As her sobs subsided, she became very aware of how close to she was to him. Her skin warmed and started to tingle. She buried her face deeper into his chest, this time taking note of how hard his muscles felt against her cheek. She stayed hidden, not wanting him to know the turn her thinking had taken, ashamed at her timing. That is until he shifted underneath her. She suddenly knew he was thinking the same way. She could feel it. She leaned back to look at him.

His eyes flickered with awareness, then dropped to her lips. What he could do to those lips.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I...I can't help it around you."

"It's ok," she breathed, having the sudden urge to straddle him and feel how hard he was against the spot that had started to ache for him. His scar stood out against the flush of his face and Adelaide wanted to run her tongue along the part that touched his lip. The tip of her tongue slipped out and touched her lip. Brad involuntarily groaned at the sight.

They both froze, staring at each other for a few seconds, neither sure who would or should make the first move, when a shrill tone made them both start.

"My phone," Brad hissed. "Goddammit." He looked at the screen, saw that Jen was calling him and hit decline. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. "Maybe we should just get to my house. I'd like to change," she told him, sliding back over to the passenger seat.

Brad cursed Jen's timing. She had to have had radar for when he was getting close to Adelaide. But, he didn't stop Adelaide from moving back to her seat. Instead, he drove in silence to her house. He couldn't think of the right thing to say, unsure if she was disgusted by his body's response to her or not. He ended up keeping his mouth shut. As they pulled up to her house, he felt more than saw Adelaide stiffen beside him. He was so focused on her that he didn't immediately see what she did. Her front door was open. Her hand jerked to her side but she was not wearing her weapon.

Adelaide's heart dropped into her stomach. Brennan. He was there or he had been there. She hadn't told Brad about going to the apartment, not wanting to lead Brennan there. It seemed as though her instincts were right on target.

"Stay here," Brad commanded, his weapon already out as he exited the car.

Adelaide watched as he approached her front door. He disappeared inside and she got out of the car, wishing Rush was by her side. If Brennan was inside, she didn't know what she was going to do. She was too weak to fight tonight. She quietly walked inside, ignoring all the tactical training she had ever received and any common sense she possessed. Her house was trashed. Brennan had broken everything; slashed her couch, threw all her things all over the place. Tears came to her eyes. Of course he destroyed everything that was hers. She wandered through the house barefoot, trying to avoid the broken glass that littered the floor. Brad came out of her bedroom, gun at his side. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I told you to stay outside. He could have been in here!" he yelled at her, angry that she had disregarded her safety so easily.

"I'm sorry," she said, not meaning it.

He saw the tears in her eyes and felt like a dick. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I just want you to stay safe."

"He destroyed everything," she sniffed, her gaze darting all over the room.

"I know. I can arrest him now. He burglarized your home," he said between his teeth. Although arresting him wasn't anywhere near what he wanted to do to that man.

"Can you prove it was him?"

He nodded slowly, hesitant to tell her but knowing she deserved to see the truth. "Check your bedroom."

She walked slowly toward her bedroom, her body started to heat and shake. The response was not unusual to her but she hadn't felt it in years. It was the trepidation she used to feel whenever she knew Brennan was coming home. She flipped the light switch in her room and saw her clothes everywhere, the bulk of them shredded. On her bed was a brand new set of lingerie spread out on display. Adelaide shuddered at the sight. There was a note scrawled in Brennan's own handwriting on a piece of paper.

You'll wear this when you come home.

"He must have waited for you for awhile," Brad surmised.

"No," she said despondently. "He means when I come home to Joliet."

"How do you know that?"

"He's here to bring me back," she said, her gaze fixed on the lingerie, her voice distant.

Brad could see her thousand yard stare and knew she was extremely fragile, at risk of breaking. He turned her so she couldn't see the bed, forcing her to look at him. "Hey," he said, bending his knees so he could be on the same level as her. "He'll have to get through me first."

She nodded, at the moment, trusting Brad completely. She had no other choice. She looked around her room, searching for any clothes that were intact. She found a pair of jeans and a zip up hoodie that had escaped Brennan's wrath. She grabbed them and a pair of shoes before backing out of the house.

"We are going to my house," Brad told her matter of factly. "I'll call it in from there."

She nodded again, clutching her clothes to her chest as he opened the car door for her. She sat down in the seat, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and be done with this day from hell. The ride from her house to Brad's took no more than two minutes. As they pulled into his driveway, she was reminded just how out of her league she was with him. He probably thought Brennan trashing all her things was a step up from how she had been living. She controlled the urge to cry again, acutely aware that Brad had seen her cry more than any other person in her entire life, even Brennan. When they walked into his house, Adelaide asked to use his bathroom so she could change. He directed her to it and she closed herself in, finally taking an easier breath. It was short lived as she caught a look at herself in the mirror. The right side of her face was already turning black and blue. It was swollen and disgusting. Her hair was matted with her own blood. Her left arm and much of her chest was tinged red with blood even though the hospital nurses had done their best to clean it off her. She looked at all her exposed skin and shuddered. Brad had seen the scars. He had felt the one on her arm and knew what it meant. She hadn't told him that part of the story. She couldn't. He would hate her.

She quickly shrugged out of her skirt, grateful at least that Brad hadn't had a chance to see the scars on her legs. She slipped on her jeans and put the hoodie on over her camisole. There wasn't much she could do for her hair or her face. Pride kept her from wanting to go back out to face Brad. He had already seen her injuries, but now that she had, she didn't understand how he could look at her like he still wanted her. The longer she stayed in the bathroom, the harder it would be to face him. She took a deep breath, checked to make sure none of her scars were visible and went out to find him.

He was in the living room, just finishing up on a phone call. "I just called in the burglary," he told her. "I asked them to wait until tomorrow for a list of items stolen or damaged. They'll be headed over to process the scene after they clear a car clouting."

She nodded, her head protesting the movement. "Thank you."

"Come sit down," he said, indicating toward the couch.

She complied and sat down, waiting for him to sit next to her. He did but left a considerable gap between them. He looked like he was going to say something but Adelaide cut him off. "Can we not talk about death and murder for just a few minutes? I know you have a lot of questions, but I just can't right now."

"Of course," he said. "This has been a really hard week."

"You're telling me," she replied with a huff of a chuckle.

"How are you feeling? Did the hospital give you anything for the pain?" he asked.

"They numbed my arm, but I refused the pills for my head," she replied. "Not my brightest move."

"Wait here." He got up and returned with a glass of water and a couple pills. This time when he sat down, he was closer. "It's just over the counter migraine meds but it might take the edge off."

"God, I hope so," she said, taking the pills and washing them down with a gulp of water.

"I can't stand that he hurt you," he said quietly. She said nothing in return. Brad changed the subject, but was afraid of how she would react to what he wanted to talk about. "I'm glad you came back with me. I didn't know if you would. I know you're angry with me."

She made eye contact with him. "I was," she confirmed. "Or maybe I was just sad. I didn't know what to believe. Detective Spring told me you had been with her for a month. You said you'd never been with her. And then..." She trailed off. It didn't need to be said. They both knew what he had done.

"It was a mistake, Adelaide. I can't expect you to understand that or to forgive me. But, at the time, I didn't lie to you. I have only been with her that one time and if I could only take back one thing in my life, that would be it."

"I don't care," she told him.

Brad's heart dropped, fearing that he was losing her before he really had her. He opened his mouth to argue but she continued talking.

"I should care. I don't have cause to be angry with you because you're not mine. But I was angry. I thought that you liked me," she said, hating the fact that she sounded like an immature teenager. "But, I don't care. When Jake pointed that gun at me, one of the thoughts that ran through my head was that I shouldn't have cared so much. I should have made you understand how I felt about you and then maybe you would have picked me instead."

Brad's heart clenched and his pulse started to race. He could feel himself starting to sweat. This would be a turning point. He had this one chance to convince her of how he felt and he had to do it right.

"You're wrong," he said. Her eyes dropped to her hands twisting in her lap. He reached out and hooked his finger under her chin, lifting it to make her look at him. "I am yours, even if you don't want me."

He felt her release a shuddery breath. "Why?" Her tone told him that she really believed that he hadn't wanted her. She truly thought that she wasn't enough for him. He couldn't understand that. How could she think that someone like him wouldn't bend over backward to land a woman like her?

"Do you know that feeling you get when you're just sitting somewhere, doing something normal or routine and then suddenly you sense something is wrong. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, you start to breathe hard, your vision starts to tunnel trying to find the source of the problem. Your body feels it before your mind has a chance to catch up."

Brad kept his hand on her face, his thumb lightly stroking over her unbruised cheek. "Yes," she replied, her voice coming out husky. "I know that feeling very well."

He gave her a smile. It felt like it had been a year since he last smiled. "When I walked into your office, that's how I felt. But it wasn't trouble or danger or something wrong. It was you. As soon as I saw you, it was there. You see Adelaide, it's instinct for me to want you. My body knew it right away and my mind had to play catch up."

It was the sweetest and most clinical way Adelaide had ever heard someone describe falling for a person. She felt instantly swept off her feet even though it wasn't logical for her. She was forgiving him of things that would have made her walk away from anyone else.

"Honestly," he continued. "I wanted to fight it. I have...a lot of...baggage, you could call it. I didn't want to drag you into it all. I still don't. But I feel too strongly."

"You have baggage?" she asked sarcastically, giving him a smile.

"More than you know," he replied, but he smiled back.

"Detective Spring doesn't like me. How long has she wanted you?"

He sighed. "Only since she noticed me notice you." He slipped his hands in her hair, ignoring her small flinch that he knew had to do with embarrassment about the state of it. "She wanted what she couldn't have."

"But she got it," she said quietly.

He pulled her head forward, connecting her forehead with his. "And I'm so sorry she did. I'm sorry I did that to you. Even if you were out of the picture, I'd never touch her again."

"I believe you," she breathed, her heart rate steadily increasing as he got closer to her. He was going to kiss her. She could feel it. God please let it feel as good as I've imagined.

Brad was an inch or two away from her lips. He could feel her breath on him. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to take his next breath. He wanted to feel every single inch of her skin with his lips, taste her where only he would be allowed to go. The anticipation was intense. Brad's body was on fire and he was so hard that it was painful. She was giving him a subtle green light and he was going to take it.

A knock at the door made Adelaide jump and Brad curse. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Adelaide pulled back a little bit and a giggle escaped her lips. He was ready to forgive whoever was on the other side of the door, just for having a hand in making her laugh. He loved to hear her laugh. The sound was pure music. "Don't move," he told her. "Because after I get rid of whoever is at the door, I'm going to kiss you so senseless you'll forget everything else but me."

The promise lit a flame in her that streaked straight between her legs. Her body immediately heated and her face flushed. Her eyes were wide and dilated, dominated by lust. Brad walked to the door, proud of himself for eliciting such an erotic response in her. He had never been so sure of himself, so forward. But, the thought of losing her, of not having her outweighed any hesitation he would have otherwise felt. He smiled at her, pleased to see her embarrassed smile in return. He went to the door and the smile dropped off his face as he opened it to Jen.

"What?" he growled.

"A. You fucking left me at the hospital without a ride. B. Move, I know you have her in there and I want to talk to her."

"No," he refused, blocking her entrance.

"Sorry Romeo," she said, slapping a piece of paper against his chest. "I've got a warrant."

"On what grounds?" he exclaimed, snatching the paper and shoving her hand off his chest. The thought that Adelaide was the only one he could bear touching him there streaked through his mind as he was trying to focus enough to read the warrant.

"Ballistics came back on the bullet they pulled out of Messer. It was on record. Came from a Glock .40, registered to Probation and Parole Officer Adelaide St. James. Oh and forensics cracked the lock on Mansfield's phone. An outgoing text message, I quote, that fucking PO threatened me. Sorry," she said sardonically.

She walked away from him and Brad caught her by the arm. "You know she didn't do this," he told her, angrily, panicked. How the hell had Jen gotten the forensics back so quickly? The firearms guys told him not until the next day.

"I know no such thing."

"I can alibi her. She was with me that night, before you came over."

"Yeah, well she left before he was found so..."

"About ten minutes before he was found. You and I both know she couldn't have even gotten there in that amount of time," he hissed.

"Save it for the jury. You're so puppy dog hung up on this chick, you'd probably help her kill the next one," she snapped, pointedly looking at his groin which was still showing the results of being so close to kissing Adelaide. "I'm pretty sure you're not objective anymore."

Detective Spring rounded the corner and Adelaide's heart started to pound. Detective Spring looked happy, vindicated. Adelaide started to panic, her breaths coming out in shallow pants. She felt herself starting to sweat and wanted to strip out of her hoodie, but she couldn't.

"Get up," Detective Spring snarled at her. "You're under arrest."

Adelaide numbly stood, looking to Brad. "Brad?"

"She has a warrant to question you on the murders," he replied, wanting to say more, to tell her everything Jen had. But, he couldn't. Not without jeopardizing her innocence. Jen would try and say that Brad helped her deceive the police. He wouldn't be a tool in locking her up.

"What?" she asked, her voice small.

"Put your hands behind your back," Detective Spring ordered.

"You don't have to do that. She's going willingly," Brad interjected, but Jen ignored him. Adelaide moved like a rag doll as Jen roughly cuffed her and marched her toward the door. "I'll be down at the station," he promised her.

"Don't think so," Jen laughed. "Captain's not letting you anywhere near this one."

She started to pull Adelaide past him when Adelaide stopped, making Jen stop, too. "Brad, my dog.."

"I'll get him," he said immediately.

She leaned forward toward Brad, straining against the handcuffs that Detective Spring held her by. She whispered an address in his ear before Jen pulled her away. He recognized the area of the address as a shitty part of town, but he didn't know what the address meant. He wanted to go to it immediately, the curiosity eating at him instantly. But, he knew he was going to follow her to the police station. He felt helpless. He hated the feeling. He hadn't felt it since he was a boy and he never wanted to feel it again. It was somehow worse this time around. Before, he had felt helpless about his own life. But he had never put much stock in his own life. Now he felt helpless over Adelaide's. It was an entirely new kind of fear. Nearly debilitating. The thought of losing her, of her being hurt or mistreated, evoked strong feelings of protectiveness. He needed to see her and make sure she was alright. He couldn't let her be railroaded into those murder charges. He knew in his heart she didn't do it. He just had to find a way to prove it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

By the time he made it down to the station and convinced his Captain to at least let him observe the interrogation through the glass, Jen had already gotten the ball rolling. Brad watched Adelaide through the two way mirror. She was facing him, in obvious discomfort and pain. She had been uncuffed and her hands were splayed on the table as though she was holding on for dear life. He didn't know how Jen could look at Adelaide's face and not be affected. He wanted to bring Jake back to life just so he could take it from him again after seeing her injuries. The hospital staff had said that the bullet grazed her but she had lost a good amount of blood. She was lucky that any muscle damage would be minimal. He sucked in a breath as he noticed the piece of paper sitting between the two women in the room. Adelaide had signed away her Miranda rights. He leaned his hand against the wall next to the glass, gathering enough courage to listen in. He knew that she had a concussion and even though he wanted Adelaide out of that room, he didn't tell anyone. If she said something that could have been misconstrued as her being guilty, then he would hire an attorney that would get it thrown out. He was well aware that he was on the edge of giving up his career for a woman that he hadn't even known for a full week. But, he wasn't going to hesitate to do it. After blowing out a long pent up breath, he hit the speaker.

"So, tell me what kind of weapon you carry," Jen demanded.

Adelaide's eyebrows narrowed. "I carry a Glock 27 .40 caliber Gen 4," she said directly.

Jen nodded. "I see. Were you aware that the state registers all its employees' weapons. Has them test fired and catalogued?"

"Of course."

Jen nodded again, leaning back. Brad recognized the move. She was going to change tactics. "So, why'd you change your name from Adelaide Conway?"

Brad saw Adelaide stiffen. Her eyes flicked to the mirror as if she knew he was standing behind it. He knew Jen would pull out every last dirty secret she could find to break her.

"I was running from my ex-husband. Everything I did was legal," she finally said, trying to resist the urge to cross her arms over her chest. It implied she had something to hide. Which of course she did, just not what Detective Spring thought it was.

"I see. And why were you running from him?"

"Because Detective, he beat me nearly every night for as long as I was married to him. The last time he almost killed me," she told her, her voice devoid of emotion.

"You were a cop, right?"

"I was."

"Why didn't you fight back, tell someone on the department, do anything to try and stop him?"

Adelaide closed her eyes. "Because he threatened me," she replied. She opened her eyes to see Detective Spring looking smug. "Have you ever been victimized by a partner?" she asked her.

"This isn't about me," she deflected.

"I'll take your tone as a no. And, I'm very grateful that you haven't had to suffer through it. But that also means that you can't possibly understand the fear that someone can instill inside of you. I was never safe, not for one minute. I barely slept because sometimes I would wake up to him beating me, or worse. You know the process for domestic violence. The suspect is not held in jail for more than a few hours. He would have killed me."

"You had resources available to you."

"Yes, I did."

Jen leaned forward, switching tactics again. "So, where is your weapon now?"

"It's locked in the gun lockers at work," she replied, her eyes narrowing again. "Why?"

"Where's your key for it?"

"On my key ring. Which is probably still in my office. They didn't let me take anything when the paramedics took me out of it." Adelaide leaned back in her chair. Something was very, very wrong.

"Why would Marcus tell us that you sent someone to find out what he knew about Kyle Alton's death?"

"Sent someone?" she repeated, confused.

"Yes, sent someone. To make sure he didn't know anything and to make sure that if he did, he didn't live to tell us about it."

"I didn't send anyone," she said simply.

Jen shuffled some paperwork, scanning it then looking up. "Marcus says that some of your officers shake down the clients for drugs." It wasn't a question so Adelaide didn't answer it. "Is that true?"

"Of course it's true. They aren't allowed to have drugs, Detective."

"Don't be dense Ms. St. James," Jen snapped.

"I'm not intending to be."

"Shake down felons to sell their drugs, not confiscate them."

Brad felt as surprised as Adelaide looked. He wondered if that was true and Marcus had truly said that or if Jen was lying. The shock in Adelaide's face told him that she knew nothing about it. Jen should have picked up on it, but she had a one track mind in regard to Adelaide's guilt.

"That I'm not aware of," Adelaide told her, doing her best to remain calm even though her pounding headache had returned and she was terrified of going to jail.

"Oh come on. You POs make jackshit for a paycheck. If you didn't sell drugs you'd probably be drowning in debt," Jen told her, supplying her with an excuse. Brad knew Adelaide wouldn't take it.

"I'm not drowning in debt. I live in what I can afford on the money I make legally."

"You were fired from your job as police officer, is that correct?"

Adelaide's jaw clenched and her stomach tightened. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I made a false report," she replied, offering up no explanation.

"It didn't have anything to do with this?" she asked, sliding a photo across the table.

Brad recognized it. It was the one from her background showing her handing money to a known drug dealer. To Adelaide's credit, she didn't flinch. She didn't react at all. It was as though she expected it, knew that the photo was out there.

"I expect that was something to do with it as well," she said evenly.

Jen's body language showed Brad that she hadn't expected Adelaide to take that so well. "You were using drugs while employed as a police officer?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Then why were you paying a dealer off?"

"Because Brennan owed him money. He had a cocaine habit," she told them. "I'm sure he still does."

"That doesn't explain why you are paying him."

"Well, Detective. Some things just don't make sense. I did that for him, so I'm guilty of whatever law that breaks," she said, maintaining eye contact with Detective Spring.

Brad wondered if the looks Adelaide could give affected Jen as much as they affected him. He would have sold his soul to make sure she never looked disappointed in him.

"Who has access to your gun locker?"

Back to the gun again, Adelaide thought. Not good. "Me and anyone with a master key."

"Who has a master key?"

"I'm not sure. I'm sure several people do but you'd have to ask my DA," she replied.

"Are you prone to outbursts, Ms. St. James?"

"Outbursts?"

"Yes, fits of rage. Bouts of not being able to control your emotions," Jen clarified.

Brad could see the avenue she was approaching and didn't like it.

"I don't believe so."

"So you'd describe yourself as even-tempered?"

"Sure."

"But, you've tried to kill yourself before."

Adelaide froze, sub-consciously wrapping her left arm around her waist. She said nothing as there was no question. Brad watched her, wanting to storm into the room and take her away from Jen. He couldn't stand to see her brought so low. His chest ached watching her through that glass. God dammit, he needed to go in there, hold her.

"Does that sound like someone who is even tempered?"

"Perhaps you're confusing the difference between attempting to kill yourself and killing someone else," Adelaide said, her voice low and deathly calm as she talked through her teeth.

"I wouldn't know. I have done neither. You have done both."

"I guess that's because no one has ever shot at you. And probably because your ex-husband didn't beat you beyond recognition, rape you so hard that you had internal bleeding yet somehow still get you pregnant."

Brad was sure that his heart stopped beating. Adelaide looked so entirely miserable. She hadn't told him that. He expected there was more to her story, but he couldn't have predicted that. Jen was surprised, too. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure of where to go from there.

Adelaide's eyes landed on her own reflection in the mirror, wondering if Brad was behind it. She hadn't wanted to tell him, and now she wanted to tell him that she was sorry she he had to hear it. He would think that she was a monster. She had a nagging feeling that even if by some miracle she got out of being charged with murder, she would be losing Brad because of all this. He deserved so much better than her. And, she was a murderer, in her own eyes anyway. She'd never begrudge another woman her choices, but for her, she had none.

"You have a child?"

"No, I do not."

"Why?"

"Because I attempted to kill myself, Detective. I lost too much blood and the fetus died, but somehow they saved me. I was not about to bring his baby into this world. And if my child died, then I wanted to die too."

Brad's heart broke for her. Tears burned behind his eyes but he held it together. She was going to need him when this was over. And he had every intention of being there for her.

"That sounds selfish," Jen snarled, trying to regain her edge.

"I suppose it would," she replied, then reconsidered. "I suppose it was."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I still could. It was taking charge of my life by ending it in my way. Not waiting around for him to finish me off. Which is a direct quote from him by the way," she told her.

Brad's jaw clenched and his hands clenched into fists. That bastard will pay.

"Consider this, Detective. Try to think of anything that means the entire world to you. If you lost it, you'd be completely lost, without purpose. Maybe for you it's this job. For me, it was my husband. I believed that I was head over heels in love with him. I believed it all the way up until the end when I had my brothers on the department screaming at me to just say his name. That's all I had to do. Say his name. But I couldn't. Because I would lose him and he would kill me. I had to stay in the hospital for weeks. I found out I was pregnant while I was still recovering. So I made a decision. I got out of the hospital and went home. Brennan wasn't there. He was probably with some other woman. So I went into our room, took a razor blade and cut myself until I heard it scrape against the bone."

Behind the glass, Brad flinched, almost being able to hear the sound as she described it. He clutched his chest. It was tight and he couldn't take an unlabored breath listening to her. She had been through hell and back.

"It was a final fuck you to Brennan. Ha ha, you couldn't do it and I could," she continued. "But my brothers found me, and saved my life. I had bled out too much and the baby didn't survive. I couldn't face them and I couldn't stay with Brennan. So I ran and I haven't looked back until tonight." Her face was red, flushed and embarrassed. She knew Brad was probably there, listening to every heinous word, hating her more and more as time ticked by. Good-bye Brad. "So yeah, it was selfish."

"That's quite a story," Jen replied. She kept her voice even but Brad knew her better than that. The story had gotten to her. But she shook it off. "So tell me, why does the slug we dug out of Abe Messer match your gun?"

Adelaide's eyes widened and the color dropped out of her face so fast, even Jen leaned forward to make sure she wouldn't pass out.

"Excuse me?" she was able to say.

"You made a mistake," Jen said. "What made you switch murder weapons?"

"I didn't. I didn't kill them," she said, rubbing her temples. This couldn't be happening. "Listen, I know you and I haven't seen eye to eye, but I didn't do this. I helped you. I showed you evidence that you missed."

"That you planted," Jen corrected her.

Adelaide sat back in disbelief. "This can't be real," she mumbled.

Brad was so focused on watching Adelaide through the glass that he completely missed the two men walking in behind him until the door to the interrogation room opened. He looked behind him to see his Captain, looking pretty pissed off. He looked back into the room to see a tall, good looking man in a suit approaching the women.

"This interview is over. I'm Derek Martin and I am representing Ms. St. James so I'll thank you to leave," he told Jen strongly. He looked at the mirror and said, "And I expect that speaker to be turned off."

The Captain hit the speaker and waited for Jen to come out of the room before the reaming Brad knew was coming. After all, it had been a work week and they hadn't found the killer, despite what Jen thought. Jen exited the room on a warpath.

"Did you get her a lawyer you dumb son of a bitch?" she yelled at him.

"No, I didn't," he snapped. "She doesn't need one, not for the interview you just conducted. You need to get a class in interrogation because that was a joke."

"Captain, he is too involved with this suspect. They have been having a relationship," she outed him.

Brad was stunned and immediately furious. "I haven't touched her," he growled, truthfully. "This is because I won't fuck you again!"

"As if I'd let you anywhere near me ever again!" she screamed back.

"Spring! Fortune!" the Captain boomed. "I am about two seconds from suspending you both without pay until I can deem that you both haven't lost your God damn minds. Now update me on this case immediately!"

"I have enough to arrest her. A text from the second vic's phone stating that his PO threatened him. It's her gun on the ballistics for God's sake," Jen made her case.

"Which she says is locked up and any number of people may have access to it," Brad interjected. "She had barely a ten minute window in which to kill him. It's not possible."

"Who's the alibi?" the Captain wanted to know.

Brad stilled, knowing that this was going to affect his career. "Me."

The Captain's jaw clenched and Jen raised her hands to him as if to say See, he's too involved.

"So do you have a better suspect?" the Captain asked simply. He was letting Brad off the hook. For now.

"Yes, her ex-husband. He arrived in Elko before the first murder and he has been trying to get her attention ever since. She just filed a burglary report on him tonight. He's capable and he works security so he has a badge and could pass himself off as a PO."

"Where is he?"

"I don't have his location, but you have my word I'll find him," Brad promised.

"I still have enough to arrest her," Jen said.

"Hold her for twenty four and bring what you have to the PA for warrants," the Captain ordered. He turned to Brad. "You find the ex. I want who's responsible before this week is out, you hear me? The media is starting to get wind of this and it looks as though we half staffed this because they're felons. Fix it."

"Yes, sir," they both mumbled as surly teenagers would.

As soon as the Captain stepped out Brad turned to Jen. "You know she didn't do this. You're making yourself look like a fool."

"I think she had a hand in it," she stubbornly disagreed.

"What's the motive?"

"Money, drugs, that she hated them? Take your pick. She's got a history with drug dealers, these assholes probably come on to her half the time and threaten her the other half. Fuck, I'd want to beat the shit out of them with a bat, too."

"It's a bat?" he asked.

"Report came in. It's on your desk. You'd know that if you were here instead of babysitting your girlfriend," she jeered.

"She isn't staying here," Brad told her, refusing to take the bait and fight about whether or not Adelaide was his girlfriend.

"You heard the Captain," she said with a smug smile that Brad had the urge to smack off her face. "I've got twenty four hours."

"You have nothing," he replied and walked in the room with Adelaide and her attorney. Jen was on his heels.

Adelaide looked up as he walked in, a little beacon of hope surging through her. He wasn't making eye contact with her and that was a bad sign. She tried to prepare herself for that. She knew that some of what she said would change how he looked at her. No one could make themselves love a monster. He looked angry and when he wasn't looking at her attorney he was glaring at Jen.

Brad did not appreciate the fact that Adelaide's lawyer had his arm possessively around her chair. He had put himself between her and Brad, like she needed to be protected from him. It grated on him but he put it out of his mind for the moment.

"Are you charging my client?" the lawyer asked them.

"Yes," Jen said. "She is being held on Murder 1st charges."

Adelaide's stomach dropped. She was going to jail. She tried to look at Brad but he wouldn't look at her.

"Held? So you haven't charged her yet?" Derek clarified.

"I'll be getting the warrants in the morning. Right after I go to her work and confiscate her gun," she retorted, keeping the lawyer's eye and exerting her dominance. "Stand up," she commanded Adelaide, pulling out her handcuffs to transport her to the cells.

"How do you know her gun is there?" Derek wanted to know.

"She told me," Jen snapped. "Stand up," she commanded her louder.

Adelaide slowly stood, feeling dizzy and completely overwhelmed. Brad could see that she wasn't steady on her feet. He knew what he was going to do next would at best earn him a kick in the balls from Jen and at worst a suspension from his Captain but he did it anyway.

"Mr. Martin, you might be interested to know that Officer St. James has a concussion as a result of a head injury earlier this evening. She never received discharge paperwork from the hospital."

Derek turned to Adelaide, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that true?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said weakly. "I walked out before they discharged me. The doctor wanted me overnight."

Derek turned to Jen, a smile on his lips. "You need a fit for confinement and I'll have your entire interview thrown out." He turned to Adelaide and mouthed it's ok. He turned back to Jen. "Which I'm sure you understand means that if you go and get that gun, it will be thrown out. You'll need to get a warrant to search her office without using any statements you got from her tonight."

Jen's mouth dropped open and she stormed out of the room.

"I trust you'll arrange transportation to the hospital?" Derek asked Brad.

"I'll take care of it," he said with a nod.

"I'll be with her the entire time so don't bother coming to the hospital to question her further," he told him, crossing his arms.

The man rivaled Brad in height and weight. Brad noticed his face was flawless unlike his own and was immediately jealous of the time he was about to spend with Adelaide. It was an unwanted and irrational feeling for the situation, but it was present nonetheless.

"I'm not your problem," Brad gritted out. "I don't think she did this." He shifted so he could see Adelaide around her wall of an attorney. "Where do you think he'll be?" he asked her.

Adelaide lifted her eyes to see him, shocked to see him actually looking at her.

"Detective!" Derek cautioned.

The he that Brad meant didn't need to be said. She understood who he was going after. She wanted to give him words of warning, advice on how to handle Brennan, but she couldn't think past the pounding in her head.

"My guess is at my house," she told him.

"Adelaide, stop talking," Derek hissed at her.

"I'll take care of it," he told her, ignoring Derek. "Just rest at the hospital. Get some sleep. You'll be safe there."

She nodded, hoping that he would remember to get Rush, but not wanting to bring it up in front of her lawyer. Brad paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on her as though he wanted to do something more than just look.

"She was with me until around 8:45 last night. TOD on Messer was around 9pm. She didn't have her car when she left," he said and then left the room without waiting for a response.

Brad got in his car and started to head for Adelaide's house when he remembered the address that she had whispered to him. He made a u-turn and headed toward the address. He didn't exactly know what he was going to find, but his senses were on edge. He pulled up to the ratty apartment building feeling like he should have his gun out. He found the apartment number she had given him and tried to open the door. It was locked. He looked around to make sure that no one was watching him before he discreetly shouldered the door open. It was laughable how easy it was to break into that apartment.

As soon as the door opened, Brad could hear growling. He quickly shut the door behind him and flicked on the lights. Rush was about three feet in front of him, hunched and ready to attack. God please don't make me have to shoot her damn dog.

"Rush," he said curtly.

The dog stood higher, cocked his head at Brad before walking up to him and rubbing his head against his hand. Brad blew out a relieved breath and looked around. There was nothing in this dump except a pull out couch and a bag. Brad went through the bag and saw some of Adelaide's clothes. She had run from her house before Conway broke in, he realized. She was getting ready to run away again. The knowledge hurt. He was shocked how much it hurt. He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving Elko, of maybe never seeing her again. God dammit he knew it wasn't right, but he wanted her to stay for him.

"What else did you hide?" he said out loud to no one.

Rush whimpered and ran to the edge of the room pawing at the dirty stained carpet. Brad followed him and noticed the carpet was not entirely tacked down in that area. He pulled it up and found an envelope. He got the surprise of a lifetime when he opened the envelope and found a mound of cash. There was at least four thousand dollars there. His heart sank, knowing that if he turned over what he found it would make Adelaide look so much more guilty. Jen would say that it was proceeds from drug money when Brad knew that it was just what she had been able to store for when she needed to run. He would have actually preferred it be drug money. At least then she wouldn't be leaving.

He wasn't exactly proud of himself as he slid the envelope in the inside pocket of his suit coat. He couldn't let Adelaide go to jail. He'd never forgive himself. He called for Rush to follow him as he left the apartment, doing what he could to secure the door. Not that it mattered. There was nothing in there to steal. Having her dog with him when he approached Conway might not be such a bad idea.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"This is bullshit," Adelaide huffed as she tried to get comfortable with her wrist handcuffed to the bedrail of the hospital bed. She had been allowed to shower and get the blood out of her hair. She was given a hospital gown that didn't cover the scar on her left arm. She kept it tucked securely against her body so Derek wouldn't look at it even though he knew it was there.

"I know. I'm sorry," Derek said. "I tried to get them to uncuff you but evidently its procedure."

She sighed and looked at him. He was an extremely good looking man with no ring on his finger, but when she looked at his face, she missed the scar that could only be found on Brad's. She found Derek's face utterly boring when any other time she would have been rolling her tongue back in her mouth.

"You haven't asked me if I did it," she told him.

"I didn't need to," he replied as he flipped through some paperwork.

"Why?"

"Because I know that you didn't," he said simply, eliciting a smile from her.

She sighed again, shifting to try and get comfortable. "They say it was my gun that killed Abe Messer."

"I haven't confirmed that. Cops lie, Adelaide. Don't believe anything they say. That's why I'm here, to tell you to stop talking when they start lying." He flashed her a charming smile.

She returned it. "Brad wouldn't lie to me," she said, confidently.

"You don't know that. What is your relationship with Detective Fortune?" he asked.

"There isn't one. He's just nice and respectful," she told him. It wasn't really a lie.

"So there has been no sexual relationship with him?"

Adelaide laughed. "Derek, there's been no sexual relationship with anyone." Her head started to feel a bit heavy, fuzzier.

"I see," he said. "So, tell me about Brennan Conway." She sucked in her cheek. Sensing her vulnerability on the subject he added, "He's the next viable suspect. The best way to get you off the hook is to hang someone else on it."

She nodded, resigning herself to telling him everything. But, she was saved by the hospital drugs kicking in. Her entire body finally relaxed and she let herself sink back into the pillows. Her eyelids got heavy.

"He's a son of a bitch," she mumbled before she passed out.

Something startled her as she jerked awake. The rattling of the handcuffs against the bedrail threw her back into the present immediately. Her head hurt and she remembered being taken to the hospital. But, she was in police custody. They thought she was a murderer. The room was as dark as hospital rooms get with all the equipment lit up to monitor her vital signs. She blinked, looking around the room for Derek but he was gone. It was probably the middle of the night. She sighed and rolled over as much as she could with her wrist shackled to the bed, when movement caught her eye. From the shadowed corner, someone stepped forward.

That build was unmistakable. The smell was familiar, stale cigarettes mixed with strong cologne. It evoked a response that she hadn't had in three years. Debilitating fear. She could hear the beep of the heart monitor steadily increasing as it read her panic. Her body started to sweat and she pushed herself farther into the bed, as though that would keep him away longer. Her mind was frozen as she watched him slowly walk toward her. She should scream, but her voice didn't cooperate. She just sat in the bed, watching him. Another step and her body started to shake, the terror transcending into her chest, making it so that she couldn't breathe. Another step and he was cast into the eerie glow of the machines. She hadn't seen that face in three years. And suddenly she was back in Joliet, curled in a ball, praying that he would leave her alone tonight, just once. Just once, pass out before you find me.

"Hi, Addy," he said, his voice low to avoid detection and induce maximum fear.

She shifted back in the bed again, the handcuff biting into her wrist, reminding her that she couldn't even run. Her pulse skyrocketed and the machines started beeping in a frenzy. She glanced at them, hoping like hell the staff would come check on her. He advanced on her, capitalizing on her terror. She couldn't hear his footsteps anymore. The rush of blood pounding in her ears was too loud. Her heart beat so hard she felt like it would rip out of her chest at any second. She couldn't get a solid breath. It was like something out of a nightmare. A nightmare that she lived for five long years and dreamed about for three. His hand reached out for her face, making contact with her cheek. She flinched, begging her mind to work, to do something to save her. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to hurt. She didn't know if he would let her survive it. She didn't know if she'd let herself survive it.

He leaned over her and felt his rough lips brush against hers, almost lightly. She wanted to gag. This close to her she could finally make out the detail of his face. He looked the same. He had always been handsome, but his face terrified her. He had bright blue eyes that were half the reason she noticed him when they first met. But they may as well have been the devil's eyes. They were evil, just like the rest of him.

"I've missed you, Addy," he said, his voice rough, full of the promise of pain.

He leaned in, putting his forehead against hers. Something flashed in her mind, giving a lightning bolt of hope. Brad's face. Brad had treated her like a man should treat a woman. He had been perfect, so comforting, so solid. That was what she wanted. That was what she deserved. And that was it. She had never believed that she deserved anything better than Brennan Conway. But she did deserve better. She deserved Brad and he deserved her because she'd never do anything to hurt him.

"You're hurt," he said, gently. He could never stand to see her hurt, unless he was the one that did it. His fingers dragged over her swollen skin and she shuddered. It was coming, that much she knew. The pain was coming.

Brad had taken Rush back to his house after striking out at Adelaide's. Conway had been there after they left, but he wasn't there when Brad had returned. Brad had set Rush loose in the house, trusting him to flush Conway out, but he had no such luck. He felt like he was letting Adelaide down. He needed to catch that son of a bitch to prove that Adelaide had nothing to do with the murders. Unfortunately, Jen's vendetta was backed up with evidence. It looked damning, but Brad knew better.

He had sat still for all of fifteen seconds before he was up and back in his car, headed for the hospital. He knew it was a bad idea. She was a suspect in custody. He was a cop. But he couldn't stay away, even though her attorney would probably chew him a new asshole when he got there. He just didn't care. And he was banking on the fact that attorneys don't stick it out until two in the morning. He wondered what patrol rookie got the short straw and had to babysit the room she was in. He wondered if the rookie would know to keep his damn mouth shut when Brad got there.

When he arrived at the hospital he flashed his badge to the nurse at the desk and asked for Adelaide's room. She was forthcoming and Brad ignored her double take when looking at his face. A nurse should have had better bedside manner. As he walked the halls looking for her room he saw a uniformed officer approaching. He stopped him.

"Are you on the prisoner's room?" he asked the man.

"Yeah, she's been asleep for a few hours. Her attorney left about an hour ago," he replied.

"She's not supposed to sleep," Brad replied, alarmed.

"Doctor's said it's ok since she's hooked up to all their monitors."

Brad nodded. "Where are you going?"

"I've just been walking, couldn't sit in that chair another second," he replied.

"You left the prisoner alone?" Brad hissed.

"Well she's not going anywhere. She's cuffed to the bed," he retorted.

"She's what?" he exclaimed, not doing a good job of masking the ire in his voice. He knew it was police procedure and that Jen had probably insisted on it, but it was so completely unnecessary. The patrol officer gave him a confused look. Brad regained his composure and smiled at the man. "Sorry, long night. Go take a break, get a coffee or something. I'll sit on the room."

"Thanks, Detective. Night shift is the worse, and it just beats me down when I have to sit and do nothing."

Brad felt a twinge of guilt in deceiving the man who was obviously a good, likable officer. But he needed to see Adelaide. He knew he wasn't legally allowed to, but he wanted to ask her about the money he found in her apartment. He knew she'd tell him, especially if her lawyer had left. He approached her room and could see through the small window in the door that it was dark in her room. He stood outside it, gripping the doorframe and trying to find something to say to her. He had let her down so far. He had promised her that he could keep her safe. That she had been arrested for murder wasn't exactly keeping up on his end of the bargain. He took a deep, steadying breath and prepared to enter her room when something stopped him. It was a small noise filtering through the door. He leaned forward to hear it clearer. Metal on metal. The handcuff sliding along the bedrail. A small whimper? Was she dreaming?

He went to the push the door open when a loud crash startled him. It was the sound of a medical tray clanging to the ground. Brad forced his now racing heart to calm as he pulled out his weapon. He motioned the nurses coming to investigate back before taking a deep breath and slamming the door open. The light filtering in from the hallway provided enough visibility to see a man bracing himself against a sunken in sink on a counter top about four feet from the bed. Brad flipped on the lights and trained his gun on the man. He was reasonably sure who that man was but couldn't be certain. He hadn't been able to bring himself to look at the bed, yet, his mind trying to save him from having to see Adelaide possibly hurt again.

"Police, don't fucking move," he ordered.

The man was tall, as tall as Brad or maybe a scant taller. He was broad and muscled. Brad instinctively knew that if a fight ensued, it wouldn't be an easy end. The man was attractive, with a GQ looking face that was smiling at him. His clothes were expensive. Brad recognized the labels and knew that the shirt he was wearing would probably pay Adelaide's mortgage for a month. And that pissed him off even more. The man slowly put his hands up. His eyes were still calculating though and Brad could see that he was evaluating his best chance for escape. In the back of his mind, Brad registered the fury of beeping by the monitors in the room. He knew Adelaide was alive but it meant her heart was racing. It meant he needed to get this man subdued so the nurses could get Adelaide's heart rate down where it should be.

"Adelaide, are you hurt?" he asked her, not taking his eyes off the man.

She didn't answer so he chanced a glance at her. She was still on the bed but she was up on her knees, her right wrist cuffed to the bed. Both her hands were balled in fists. She was breathing hard and all her attention was focused on the man. She was angry as hell, like the only thing holding her back from attacking was the handcuffs. His eyes flicked back to the man who was still standing with his hands up. But, his eyes were darting all over the place.

"Adelaide," Brad said louder. "Who is this?"

Between loud puffs of breath he heard her callous voice say, "Brennan."

Brad's grip tightened on the gun. So there he was. The man that Brad had fantasized about tearing limb from fucking limb and watching slowly and torturously bleed to death. His jaw clenched as he did his best to reign in the absolute wrath that was flowing freely through his body. By some miracle, Brad was able to hold it together, thinking about how Adelaide would need him. The urge to stow his gun and tell Brennan to take his best shot was strong. He wanted the fight. Brad had never wanted to fight a day in his life. In fact he had done his best to avoid fights all his life. He was even labeled a pushover. As a cop he barely fought. He only avoided and subdued. But standing in front of the man that had put his hands on Adelaide in the most unforgiveable ways, Brad prayed that he would take a shot. Brad wanted the satisfaction of feeling his fist on Brennan's face. He wanted to hear the sickening crunch of a bones breaking. He wanted to be washing Brennan's blood off his hands at the end of it.

But instead, Brad gritted his teeth and said, "Brennan Conway, you're under arrest for Burglary."

Brennan's smile transformed into a sneer and he laughed. "She'll never press charges," he said. His voice was dark and chilled Brad like any icy finger dragging down his back.

"She already did," Brad spat back.

Brennan took a step to the door and Brad matched it, gripping his gun so hard his knuckles had turned white.

"Give me a reason," Brad hissed. "Try to run."

He smiled again. "You wouldn't shoot her husband," he taunted.

"I would. And I would enjoy every millisecond of watching you die."

Brennan's eyes narrowed as though he was accepting a challenge. For a few moments, Brad thought it really would end in shooting him. But suddenly the uniformed officer returned to the room, alerted by the hospital staff. Brennan's eyes flicked to the officer in the door and with a huge sigh of annoyance, gave himself up, allowing the officer to put handcuffs on him. Brad helped the officer drag him out of the room and into the hall. He waited until back up units arrived and they transported Brennan to the jail to be booked for the burglary. As soon as they had Conway in custody, nurses swarmed Adelaide's room, pushing meds to calm her racing heart. More than an hour had passed before Brad was able to get in to see her.

She was lying back in the bed, her eyes closed looking so damn fragile. It was a stark contrast to seeing her kneeling on the bed, ready to attack a man at least twice her size. She had been in a blind rage and it may have been what saved her. Brad shuddered to think of what Conway had planned to do to her. He approached her bed slowly, noticing how the bruises on her skin somehow looked worse against her natural porcelain tone. Her hair was clean now and spilled around her on the pillow He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He wondered what Conway had done to her before he got there. He wondered if she'd trust him enough to tell him. The impulse to touch her was crawling through him. He didn't though, fearing that touching her hand would just lead to gathering her up in his arms and never letting her go.

"You shouldn't be here," a voice behind him said.

Brad spun around, his hand on his gun before he recognized the lawyer. He relaxed his hand and sighed. "I need to know if Conway hurt her. I can charge him with assault."

"I'll get the information from her when she wakes up," he said solidly, leaving no room for arguing. He moved closer to her bed, crossing his arms like a sentry standing guard.

Brad knew he needed to leave, but he was loathe to do it when she was so vulnerable. Yet, he knew the lawyer wouldn't let him talk to her so he decided his time would be better spent grilling Conway, getting him to confess to the murders.

"Tell her..." he started, then paused. He took a breath. "Tell her she should press charges against him. And that I'll be here to take her statement if she wants to."

"I'll pass that along," he said, not moving an inch. His gaze was hard and penetrating, as if he knew something and wanted to convey that to Brad.

Brad crossed the room to the door. Before walking out he said, "You don't believe me, but I am on her side."

The lawyer's lips twitched as though he was fighting a smile. "That I believe. Good night, Detective."

Brad left the hospital with a heavy look at the sleeping woman. I'm going to fix this, Adelaide. He'd keep his promise. She wasn't going down for this. He was going to break Brennan Conway. When he arrived at the station, the night Watch Commander advised him that Conway was asleep and if Brad wanted the interrogation to stand then he should go home and get some sleep, too. He could question Conway later. Brad wasn't happy about it, but he did it. Jen had gone home which meant for the time being, she wasn't actively trying to charge Adelaide. He hoped she'd sleep long and hard. Each hour was another hour closer to Adelaide's release.

When he got home he had almost forgotten that Rush would be there to greet him. Even though Rush was just a dog, it made all the difference not coming home to an empty house. Brad could see why Adelaide was so attached to the damn thing. His back hurt, his neck was sore and he was nearly dead on his feet. But, his mind was still working a mile a minute so he instead of getting in bed, he decided to take Rush for a walk. He could see himself doing that for Adelaide every morning. Waking up early and taking the dog out so that she could sleep in a little longer. And then at night they'd walk Rush together. They would walk hand in hand so that everyone knew that she was his. His life would be...normal. Normal in a way that would make him eager to wake up each day, just to see her lying next to him. God, he wanted that so God damn much. He wanted it with a force that all but took his breath away when he focused on it.

Rush made a noise and Brad looked down at him. The dog was looking up at him, almost sympathetically. "Don't judge me, dog," Brad said. "I already know I'm pathetic."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SATURDAY

Adelaide's eyes fluttered open as a familiar headache pushed its way through to her senses. She moved to grip her head but her hand was wrenched back down by the handcuff securing her to the bed. She groaned as the events of the day before swamped over her in a tsunami wave. Her dreams had been filled with Brennan's face. He hadn't changed much since the last day she saw him. His face was still deceptively gorgeous. The only difference was that she saw the monster underneath much more prominently than she ever had before. He had touched her last night. He had touched her face, grazed her lips with his. She had been frozen until he made the mistake of trailing his hand down her chest. His fingers toyed with a particularly vicious scar that adorned her breast. He had put it there with a jagged piece of glass. He had held that piece of glass at her throat, threatening to kill her over an invitation from the guys at work to have a beer after shift. Instead of killing her, he had sliced her breast and raped her, letting her know on no uncertain terms that she was his for whatever he felt like doing. He thought that making her body ugly would prevent her from showing it to anyone else. And he was right. He had always liked when the scars formed on her body. He'd kiss them and stroke them almost lovingly. He enjoyed marking her. Nothing had changed in three years. Except her.

When his fingers crept down the hospital gown and started gently caressing the scar, Adelaide's senses returned. And they returned with a vengeance. Anger had coursed through her like someone had lit a line of gasoline. In the end she had exploded, using everything she had in her to shove him across the room. He hadn't expected it and lost his footing, falling into the hospital tray that had been resting atop the counter. He was preparing to come back at her, that same damn smile from all those years ago on his lips. She had resigned herself to fight, shackled to the bed or not. Yet somehow Brad was there. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off Brennan at first, but eventually they slid over to Brad. He had been holding onto himself by a thread, she could see it in his eyes. He was purely and solely focused on one thing, Brennan. Adelaide had seen his chest heaving and knew that he wanted to kill Brennan. She could read it on his face, plain as day. Brennan read it, too, which is why his attempt to escape was half-hearted at best. He knew. He knew that Brad cared for her and that in itself was going to be extremely dangerous.

A sound from the corner threw her heart into overdrive until she located the source. Derek, who was not a small man, was curled up in a tiny hospital chair, sleeping. He moved again, eventually unfolding himself from the chair and trying to stretch. He looked so miserable that Adelaide had to laugh. And once she started, she couldn't stop. It felt so damn good to just let go.

"Well I'm glad I can be a source of amusement for you," he said, trying for bitter but the smile on his face betraying him.

"I'm sorry," she said through her continued laughter. "You were just folded into that chair like an origami."

"Yeah, I'll have to rethink being chivalrous next time."

"You didn't have to come back," she told him, letting the laughter die down, falling back into the bed. She felt like a ton of bricks had lifted off her shoulders for some reason. Maybe because Brennan was in custody or maybe because she just couldn't afford to be stressed anymore.

"Sure I did. If I didn't those cops would be skulking around trying to talk to you. I already had to run one of them off," he told her. There was something playful in his face and Adelaide wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Who?" she asked, already knowing.

"Detective Fortune," he replied. "I find it really interesting that he was the one to make the arrest, seeing as I specifically told him to back off."

"He didn't question me," Adelaide said, her first instinct to protect him.

"I know, but he would have. And you would have answered him," he accused. She looked away and said nothing. He wasn't wrong. "I know you trust him, but my job is to protect you from what you don't know can hurt you."

"I understand."

He paused and regarded her. She knew what he thought he knew, but she wasn't going to confirm it. She would not say anything that would put Brad's job or reputation in jeopardy. She had already told him that she had been with him the night before for official purposes after discovering Matt Ludke's body.

"He said he would come back if you'd like to make a statement so he can charge Conway with assault," he told her.

"He didn't assault me, not really," she replied. "He just...touched me." Her body involuntarily shivered.

"Did you want him to?"

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Then it's assault," he replied matter of factly. "And you'll press charges." She nodded in agreement. Derek looked at his watch and said, "I'm gonna get home, change into a suit and go over to the court house. I have it on good authority that Detective Spring will be soliciting for a warrant today. She's not going to get it."

He threw her a wink and was out the door. Adelaide was glad that he was on her side. She trusted him, but she wished that he hadn't turned Brad away. She wanted to see him. She wanted him to do what he promised her; kiss her senseless. Thinking about how close they were to doing just that made her body heat. She had never felt that way before. In the beginning with Brennan, things had been good, but they had never been that good. The very idea of Brad made her body turn to liquid. After marrying Brennan, Adelaide had never had another chance to feel amazing. He had done nothing but hurt her and honestly, she could never remember sex feeling good. She could only remember the pain. That the thought of Brad could still make her hot despite her past and in the midst of the turmoil of the recent week, was a testament to how much he affected her. If they had met under different circumstances, she wasn't sure she would have made him wait more than a day to have her. The ferocity with which she wanted him was new and scary but exciting. Once she was clear of all this, she was going to find out what it was truly like to be with a man that cared about her.

Brad had only slept a couple hours before he was up, dressed in another suit and out the door. He was anxious to get everything wrapped up. He needed to get Conway's confession. The tactic which he could use to elicit the confession was what kept him awake. He knew Conway's type. He was possessive of Adelaide because he knew that he could lose her. He had a self-confidence problem so he projected on everyone else. Would it be best to inflate his ego or pick it apart? Brad wished they had the funds for a department shrink. A shrink would be able to get in Conway's head and tell Brad exactly how to dissect him.

He was raring to get a go at Conway as soon as he got to the station, but his Captain happened to mention that Jen had gone to the court house to get the Prosecuting Attorney to request a warrant. Brad was torn. He wanted to lay into Conway and get the confession, but another part of him wanted to make sure that Jen did not get that warrant. A morbid curiosity that he couldn't control had him heading out the door toward the Court house which was in the adjacent building. It didn't take Brad long to find her. She was already pleading her case to the Prosecuting Attorney who was looking through the file Jen had pushed into her hands the second she had the misfortune to step out of her office. But it wasn't just the two women. Adelaide's attorney was there. Even though Brad was jealous of the man, he was glad that he seemed to be doing his job. He edged closer so he could hear the exchange, but not close enough that Jen would see him. She would eat him alive if he came to Adelaide's defense.

"She signed a Miranda waiver," Jen was saying. "It should be enough to get a warrant for that gun and to hold her on murder charges."

"She had a concussion at the time of the interrogation and Detective Spring failed to get paperwork saying she was fit to be interviewed," Derek said, showing the PA, Morgan Ellis the hospital paperwork.

"But the ballistics show that it's her weapon that fired the bullet we pulled out of the fourth victim. That's independent of the interrogation," Jen argued. "It stands to reason that the weapon would be in the gun locker at her work. Inevitable discovery."

"I'm afraid I'd agree with that," Ellis was saying.

Brad's heart lurched. Jen smiled smugly at Derek.

"Ms. St. James says that several people have access to the gun lockers. The police have not even investigated who has keys," he retorted.

"Is that true, Detective?"

"We haven't had the chance yet."

"What else do you have on St. James?"

"A text message from the second victim, outgoing to an unknown number stating that the PO threatened him," she said.

"Did he name her?" Ellis asked.

"No, but.."

"It's not enough. There are dozens of POs here. What else?"

Jen stalled.

"Nothing else," Derek interjected. "In fact they have evidence disproving that a woman at all is a suspect. A size 12 shoe framed in blood splatter. My client can't be more than a woman's size 7. And there's an alibi placing her without a vehicle more than twenty miles from the scene of the crime about fifteen minutes prior to it."

"Who's the alibi?"

"Detective Spring's partner."

Ellis raised her eyebrows.

"It's not an impossible time frame. Plus, she could have an accomplice," Jen started.

"You have enough for the firearm, Detective. You don't have enough to hold St. James. Cut her loose."

Brad sighed in relief. Thank God. She wasn't out of the woods, yet. Jen could find more evidence that linked back to her. But the way it was going, she would probably have to convene a Grand Jury rather than be issued a warrant. That was good, it meant Brad had time.

"What?" Jen exclaimed. "It's her gun!"

"And you have failed to investigate who else had access to her gun, Detective. Show me that no one but her could get to it and I'll give you the warrant. Poke holes in her alibi so there's no reasonable doubt. Until then, cut her loose."

"Thank you, Counselor," Derek said. "Have a good day, Detective."

Brad watched Derek walk out of the court house as Jen growled at him. He ran out after him, intent on making sure that Adelaide had gotten through the rest of the night. He caught up to him on the steps.

"Mr. Martin," Brad called to him.

"Detective Fortune," he greeted him, looking back over his shoulder. "I'm not surprised to find you here."

"I know," he said, knowing that he had probably picked up on the fact that he was a little too interested in Adelaide, beyond the scope of the investigation and what was "official."

"She didn't get the warrant. I'm headed back to the hospital to make sure someone is there to remove the handcuffs," he told him.

"Thank you. I'd do it myself but.."

"But you need to deal with that piece of trash Conway," he finished for Brad.

"Yeah."

"She'll press charges against him," he said.

Brad's shoulders slumped in relief. She had run from Conway for so long that he wasn't sure if she'd be strong or brave enough to confront. Obviously she was much stronger than he initially thought.

"Good," he breathed.

"She says that he didn't really assault her. He just touched her against her will. So it will be petty, Assault 3rd. But I think it's worth it."

"Me too," Brad said between his teeth, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were grinding. He hated himself for asking, but he did it anyway. "Touched her how?"

"She didn't elaborate and I didn't ask. I suppose you'll have to, although I don't think your jaw can take it," he said. Brad narrowed his eyes at the man. "You're about to crack it in half," he observed. He sighed. "I think I'm obligated to say that you should probably take yourself off this case." Brad started to refute him but Derek kept talking. "I'm not going to push it though, since you and I seem to be on the same side. That being said, if anything should go south, I will throw you under the bus in less than a second to get her cleared."

Strangely enough, the threat comforted Brad. He was glad that she had someone whose primary purpose was to keep her out of jail. He nodded. "I understand. You'll do what you have to. So will I."

"Your partner is coming," Derek said, nodding toward the Court house doors before he walked away, no doubt not wanting another confrontation.

Brad sighed as he watched Jen angrily marching toward him, her stiletto heels echoing off the concrete under the overhang of the building that was largely deserted since it was Saturday. If her face was any indication, he was about to get chewed out. He braced himself for impact once she got within ten feet of him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Letting my suspect get the feel for jail before I go question him. You get your warrant?" he asked her, his voice laced with contempt.

"No," she snapped.

"She didn't do this," he snapped back. "I tried to stop you from looking like an idiot but you wouldn't listen."

"It was her gun," she replied, some of the hate leaving her voice as she second guessed herself.

"Yeah, and that needs to be investigated. You can't just get pissed off and put warrants out for people, Jen." He stopped and looked around to make sure no one was within ear shot of them. "You let what happened between me and you cloud your judgment."

"The hell I did!"

"You didn't want anything to do with me until Adelaide came in the picture," he reminded her.

"Yeah, well I thought you were gay," she muttered.

"You're full of shit. You were jealous that I noticed her and not you," he accused her. She started to protest but he cut her off. "Get over it, Jen. Do your job right the first fucking time and you won't look so God damn stupid."

"You're an asshole, Fortune," she told him. "I don't know what you think is going to happen with her after this. Didn't you hear her in that interview? She's fucked up six ways to Sunday."

"Yeah, well, so am I," he told her.

"People don't want to deal with someone else's baggage when they've got enough of their own," she told him before stalking away.

Brad refused to consider how right she was. He didn't want to think about how selfish he would be to ask Adelaide to deal with all his problems when she had more than enough of her own. Damn Jen and her logic. Brad had more baggage than anyone else he had ever met, except maybe Adelaide. Just because he was willing to accept hers didn't necessarily mean that she would be able to accept his. She had seen the scar on his face, knew that his mother was an addict and that her boyfriend hurt him, but there was so much more. No woman had ever been able to accept it when he told them, not for long anyway. He hadn't even told anyone the whole story. Ever. He had so many hang ups, so many problems with relationships that he had never been happy. He had been so caught up with his feelings and attraction to Adelaide that he didn't stop to think how much burden he would be placing on her.

But, none of that had anything to do with making sure that she was protected. He needed to get back to the station and get a confession out of Conway. The least he could do for Adelaide was make sure that she didn't go down for murder. He needed to get himself straight before he had a go at Conway. Once he sat down in that interrogation room, there would be no room for him to have any sort of emotion regarding Adelaide. He had to be detached and he would not let Conway bait him into any emotive reaction. He may want to tear the beating heart out of Conway's chest, but in that room, he was going to have be his friend. The only worry was whether or not Conway would buy it.

Brad was leaning against a wall in the corner of the interrogation room, his legs casually crossed as he flipped through a file. An officer on jail duty brought Conway into the room and cuffed him to an eye bolt on the metal table in the center of the room. Conway was compliant with the officer but his eyes found Brad the second he entered the room and hadn't left him. Once the officer left the room, Brad continued to flip through the file, forcing himself to stay calm and to take his time despite how anxious he was to have it all finished. He wanted it all wrapped up in shiny paper with a bright bow to give to the Prosecuting Attorney. And then he wanted to go to Adelaide's house, beg her to give him a chance despite his baggage and do what he had promised. Kiss her so damn senseless that she would remember nothing but him.

He eyed Conway and deliberately cleared his mind, forcing all thoughts of Adelaide into a lock box where he could not accidentally access them and blow the interview. Brad slowly stood up straight, stretched his neck and made slow work of walking to the table. He pulled out the metal chair, letting the legs scrape against the old linoleum floor. He set the file down, just out of Conway's reach and watched as Conway's eyes flicked to it before they met their mark back on Brad's face. Brad sat down and leaned back in the chair, looking at Conway. Conway leaned back, mimicking the motion as much as his confines would allow. The men regarded each other coolly, both thinking strategy.

Conway looked somehow bigger after trading in his designer clothing for the standard jail jumpsuit. It suited him and Brad found himself hoping that it would suit him for a life sentence. He knew Conway was sizing him up, too; wondering how to play the game, wondering how much Brad already had on him. It was going to be an interesting dance.

Brad reached into the inside pocket of his sport jacket and withdrew a folded piece of paper and a pen. He unfolded it in front of Conway and forced himself to smile. Here we go.

"Before we begin, I'm sure you know that I have to read you your Miranda Rights," Brad started.

"Y'all did that last night when you arrested me," he said with what would otherwise be a charming smile. His voice hinted at southern and Brad wondered where he was from. He hadn't been able to get his entire background in one day. "I know my rights, my wife used to be a cop."

Brad tamped down the urge to correct his usage of the word wife. Instead he pushed the paper closer to him. "Those were for burglary. These are for murder."

"Murder, huh?" he asked as though Brad had said something as innocuous as petty theft. "Who are we talking about?"

"We aren't talking about anybody unless you make your decision," Brad replied, nodding toward the sheet.

"You got it, brother," he laughed, taking the pen and signing with a flourish.

Brad retrieved the paper and the pen, folding the paper back up and stowing both back in his pocket.

"So tell me, who are we talking about?"

"You been in Elko long?" Brad asked, ignoring the question.

"Long enough."

"You watch the news?"

"Not much point to that in a rat hole town like this."

Brad nodded in supposed agreement. "Then I guess you've missed the big story."

"You talking about those three hoodrats that got themselves killed?" Conway asked.

Brad raised his eyebrows, securing the rest of his facial expressions so he didn't give away the fact that he was pleased with the answer. He was going to get this confession, dammit.

"Well how'd you know that?" Brad wanted to know.

"Because they were all my wife's," Conway told him. "I make it a habit to know everything about my wife's life."

There was that damn word again. Brad could feel his jaw clenched and promptly relaxed, leaning back in his chair again. He took a long calming breath, concealing it with a smile. He would play the game and only refer to Adelaide as Conway's "wife." Anything to get that fucking confession.

"I can see that. So what else do you know about your wife's life?" Brad asked. Conway stalled, narrowing his eyes at Brad. "For instance, were you aware that she was arrested for those murders?"

"Bullshit," Conway laughed and leaned back.

"You saw her last night. She was handcuffed to that bedrail," he reminded him.

Something shifted in Conway's face and his handsome features turned dark. Brad found himself wondering if that is what he looked like when he turned into the man that had beat on Adelaide. It was as if a switched flipped. Brad would have almost been worried if Conway hadn't been cuffed to the table.

"Did one of you motherfuckers do that to her fucking face?" he asked, his teeth clenched, his fists balled on the table.

Brad hadn't expected that reaction. Conway used beat her. It was a very interesting response that Conway would be so furious that she was hurt. But something clicked in Brad's mind. Each of the three felons that were killed had wronged Adelaide somehow. Kyle had tried to attack her in the office. If the other officers hadn't intervened he may have been successful. John had thrown a punch at her. Matt had cussed her out, called her atrocious names that shouldn't even be spoken in her presence. Perhaps Conway had some warped sense of chivalry; one of those "if anyone is going to hurt you it's going to be me" complexes. Brad pounced on the idea.

"So what if we did? You've done worse to her yourself," he told him, making his voice snappy and defensive.

Brad heard the clinking of metal on metal and he saw Conway's hands clench and unclench compulsively. He could almost read his mind. Conway wanted to tear Brad to shreds.

"If you touched her, I will rip off your fingers one by one and shove them down your throat until you choke and die you motherfucking piece of shit pig," he said, his voice low and eerily calm.

Brad smiled. "Ouch."

Conway's nostrils flared in rage. "You know she didn't fucking murder anyone."

"Maybe. Didn't stop my partner from putting her in handcuffs. Won't stop a jury from believing my partner's evidence."

Conway sat back in his chair again and shook his head, sporting a grin. "You got nothing. You wouldn't let that happen."

"How's that?"

"I've seen you. The two of you. You've been to her house. She's been to yours. I get it, Detective. I've been where you want to go. Ain't no coming back from it," he told him with a laugh. "When you find a pussy that sweet, you don't let it walk away without going after it."

"I've been investigating her. I thought it best to keep her close," Brad lied, avoiding any response to his crudity.

Conway was smiling in earnest now. Almost ear to ear. "She's so fucking tight, you wouldn't believe it. You can't go slow in a girl like my wife. You'd come in two seconds. You have to fuck her so hard so she cries, cause, get this, she'll do this clench move when she's in pain and it's like the fucking world explodes. Course I usually pulled out and shot my load down her throat. Can't get a bitch pregnant."

Brad was hanging on by a thread. Yet he sat there like a jackass with a stupid shit eating grin on his face, listening to Adelaide's husband describe raping her. If he hadn't locked his gun in the lockers outside the interrogation room, Brad had no doubt that the man would be dead. He would have twelve well placed rounds in his body and he would be alive until that last bit of blood pumping through his body was spread out on that ugly linoleum floor.

Instead of playing the cards Conway wanted him to, Brad simply said, "Well I'm sorry I missed that."

"Well I don't share, Detective. No one touches my wife but me."

Brad raised his eyebrows at him and reached for a photo in the file. He slid it across the table. The picture was up close and personal to Kyle Alton's crushed and broken body after it had been discovered. Conway's face registered nothing.

"That one, he attacked your wife in her office and had to be dragged out by several other Parole Officers."

Conway's jaw clenched. Brad tossed him the photo of Matt Ludke. "This one called your wife a cunt every chance he got." He slid the photo of John Mansfield across. "This one threw a punch at your wife."

Conway gripped the paper so hard his knuckles had turned white. "They got what they fucking deserved."

"Yeah, maybe so. Maybe your wife gave them what they deserved," Brad baited him.

Conway scoffed, still looking at the pictures. "You think she could wield a bat that hard and long to create that kind of damage? Don't think so."

Brad's pulse skyrocketed. No one had mentioned anything about the bat. He forced himself to stay calm, fighting the flush to his face that would make his scar stand out.

"So you're a security guard?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his admission. He didn't want Conway to backtrack and make excuses for what he had said.

"Yep."

"Isn't that kind of a like a second rate version of a cop?" Brad replied, letting a smirk through. That was for you, Adelaide.

"Aren't you kind of like a second rate version of a man? You spent all that time with my wife and couldn't seal the deal? You can't nail a whore like her, you probably can't nail anyone," Conway spat.

Brad was oddly pleased with the remark. He had Conway on the defensive now. "They give you big bad security guys badges?" Marcus had said that the man had shown him some sort of badge.

"What of it?"

"But no guns, right?" Conway's face turned dark again. "No, of course not. They wouldn't trust you second rate cops with one. Your wife gets one though. Even as a Probation and Parole Officer."

He scoffed again. "Like she'd ever use it."

"You don't think so?"

"Fuck no. She'd keep the damn thing locked up more than on her."

"Locked up where?" Brad pushed.

"Fuck if I know. Don't they have fucking gun lockers at her office?"

Brad smiled. "I'm sure they do."

Conway had broken into Adelaide's house once. It stood to reason that he had been in there more than the time he trashed the place. Brad needed to see if Adelaide kept a spare key to her office and the gun lockers in her home. It was reasonable doubt for Adelaide if she had a missing spare set of keys.

"What's your fucking point here, Fortune?"

"Her gun killed this man," he replied, tossing him the last picture in the file.

"What'd he do to her?"

"As far as we can tell, nothing. She seemed to like him just fine. I thought you might be able to shed some light on that," Brad replied, nicely.

"If you think I'm going to help you convict my wife, you're out of your fucking mind."

"I don't need help. It's her gun. She had access to it. That's all I need. She'll go to prison, Mr. Conway. And I'm sure you're aware of what happens in prison. I'm willing to bet that she'll be in the one percent that isn't strung out on drugs, over 50 years old, overweight or unattractive."

"Fuck you."

"And you know what that means, Mr. Conway, don't you? You know what prison guards do in their free time, right?"

"I told you, she's not capable of this," he hissed. "She's so fucking scared of everything she keeps that damn dog at her heels. If they all had bite marks you might have the right person, but you don't."

"Oh, I have the right person," Brad replied, his voice getting harsher. "You can save your wife, here Mr. Conway. You're already going down for Burglary."

He shook his head. "She'll never press charges."

Brad slid across a signed statement, faxed over courtesy of Derek Martin. She had filled one out for Burglary and Brad knew if he checked the fax machine there would probably be a statement for the assault in the hospital. Brad was not looking forward to reading that one.

"She already did. And you left her a note. It had fingerprints on it. You're good for that one and we both know it. Get comfortable in orange," he snapped. He could see Conway's jaw working back and forth. "You'll be fine behind bars. But her? She won't have her damn dog in prison."

"You honestly think that she is capable of beating three men to death with a bat and shooting another?" he asked sarcastically.

"Doesn't matter what I believe, Mr. Conway. All that matters is what I can prove. I can prove that she had that gun. That gun connects to Messer and Messer connects to the rest of them. The jury will believe it."

Brad had to work to keep the excitement out of his voice as Conway mentioned the bat again. He was on the verge of the full confession. He didn't even know if he would need it. No one but the police knew about the bat. Not even Adelaide. Conway was oddly quiet as he sat looking at Brad. Brad had to force himself to keep eye contact although it had become uncomfortable.

"What happened to your face?" Conway asked.

Suspects asked him that all the time, but still his face flushed, making the scar more prominent. Brad always told them the same thing.

"I cut myself shaving."

Conway burst out laughing. "You're pretty damn funny, Fortune."

"Yeah well I do stand up on the side," he said in a monotone voice. "Listen, the way I see it, you've got two choices here. You either let your wife take the fall for something she didn't do, or you don't. It's simple."

"Hypothetically speaking, if she was found guilty of these murders, what prison would she go to?"

"That's a little out of my jurisdiction, Mr. Conway. What difference does it make?"

The question threw Brad and had the wheels turning in his head. Why would he care which prison Adelaide would go to? What was he planning?

"No difference. Call it curiosity," Conway replied.

Brad gritted his teeth, feeling the interview slipping away from him. "Don't worry, Conway. I'm sure the guards will treat her really well wherever she goes."

Conway's nostrils flared again and Brad could tell that he scored a direct hit. He stayed quiet, letting it soak in, letting Conway get worked up about the idea that some prison guard may touch his wife. Conway sighed and leaned his head down to the table so his hands could reach to rake through his hair.

"Get me an attorney. I want a deal," he snapped.

"You got it," Brad replied, slowly gathering up his pictures and paperwork and placing them back in the file. "You're doing the right thing, for your wife."

Brad stood up to walk out, making sure he was taking slow steps so he wouldn't show his elation.

"Detective," Conway called, making Brad stop and look over his shoulder. "Make no mistake, no one touches my wife."

The message was received. Conway did not want Brad anywhere near Adelaide. The message was then promptly thrown out. Brad didn't give a shit about Conway's rules or demands. He didn't respond, instead walking out of the room and shutting the door loudly. He walked around to the other side of the window mirror to where his Captain had been waiting. Jen was in the corner, arms crossed, sulking.

"Good work, Detective," the Captain told him.

"Thank you," he replied, eyeing Jen.

"Captain, St. James could still be in on this. She's helped him before. She paid off his drug debt at least. At worst, she probably did much more," Jen told him, sticking to her corner like glue.

"She's not involved," Brad insisted, his heart rate increasing with the level of his anger. Didn't he just get Conway to admit that he was at fault?

"I want no stone unturned. Jen you work on St. James. Brad, you get everything you can on Conway. I want this air tight, no reasonable doubt. I want the right person to go down for this, understood?"

"Yes," the both said in a sullen unison.

The Captain gave them a hard nod and started to walk out of the room. He stopped and hesitantly turned around. "Fortune," he started. "I don't want any sort of details or explanation from you but a 'yes, sir' to what I'm about to say. Stay away from St. James until this is resolved."

Brad's eyes widened and his face flushed angrily. His first thought was that he wanted to deck his Captain. He opened his mouth to argue, but one look at his Captain's face and he gave him the answered he had commanded. The Captain left the room, leaving Brad and a smirking Jen behind.

"What the fuck did you tell him?" he hissed at her.

She let out a loud laugh. "You alibied her, genius. We are cops, you moron. We can put two and two together. Everyone here knows that you're doing a suspect."

Brad's jaw clenched so hard it ached. "I haven't touched her," he said between his teeth. "And even so, I'd still pick her over you."

Jen's strong façade faltered momentarily before she hardened her features again. "It's a non-issue, Fortune. I wouldn't fuck you again with someone else's snatch."

"All class, Jen," he said to her back as she stalked out of the room.

He returned to his office to do what the Captain had said; he was going to make sure that everything pointed to Conway and Conway alone. He sat down to run through Conway's criminal history. There wasn't much to go on. Conway had skirted around law enforcement for most of his life. Unless, like Adelaide, he hadn't always been Brennan Conway. He started to look into legal name changes, just to cover his bases when he heard the fax machine spitting out some pages. He went to get them and saw the letterhead of Martin, Thompson and Hargan. Adelaide's attorney. He had sent a cover page.

Attn: Detective Fortune

Ms. St. James' written statement regarding the assault by Brennan Conway.

(Might want to put in a mouth guard)

The last sentence made Brad pause until he started reading the statement and felt his jaw clenching so hard that his teeth could have become powdered. That bastard had touched her against her will. He wanted to go back into that interrogation room, shut down the cameras and tell Conway to get ready to see hell. His mind flashed back to Adelaide in the hospital room. He had been so focused on Conway that he hadn't really had time to take in Adelaide. Now as he thought back, he remembered her, up on her knees, her small fists balled and ready to fight. She had looked like a fucking lion ready to spring and remembering it was making Brad so hard he couldn't focus. She had told him that she hadn't changed, that she would always pick the wrong person. But, he could tell now, she had changed. She was a fighter, now.

The urge to go to her was coursing through him, but it would be defying a direct order from his Captain. He just wanted, needed to see her. He needed her to know that he was doing everything that he could to make sure that she was safe. And, he wanted her to know that he wanted her. That nothing had changed. That he wanted her more than he wanted to live another day.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Adelaide had finally been released from the damn handcuffs that had jailed her to the hospital bed. Derek had returned saying that Detective Spring hadn't gotten her warrant to hold her. He had overseen the patrol officer taking her handcuffs off and then kindly walked him to the door. He had stayed with her and urged her to make a written statement about what Brennan had done to her the night before. She had done so, effectively pressing charges against him for the least physical he had ever been with her. Ironic. She also knew that Brad would be reading it and wished that she could be there to explain to him that everything was ok. She felt so much tougher than she had ever been as a cop married to Brennan.

Derek had finally left and Adelaide was able to get some much needed sleep. She had barely slept in the past twenty four hours. With Brennan in custody, she finally felt safe. She just hoped that whatever charges they put on him would keep him in custody rather than letting him bond out. When she slept she didn't dream of Brennan, which was rare. She had dreamt of him almost every night since she had gotten away. But, since she met Brad, Brennan hadn't dominated her dreams as much. He was still there, still present but in his true self. He looked like the devil. She no longer remembered his good looks. Instead, the beautiful face in her dreams was that of the man that thought he was disfigured. If only he understood that he wasn't what he thought, that the scar didn't define him.

Adelaide wasn't stupid or blind. She knew that other women very much appreciated looking at Brad, but he couldn't see that. Adelaide wasn't a typically jealous person, but Detective Spring really got under her skin. The fact that she had gotten what Adelaide wanted was just a sore spot for her. She had struggled with self-esteem after five years of being told that she was ugly, worthless and no man would want her. To be passed over for the blonde bombshell was kind of a blow, but Adelaide honestly thought she'd be able to forgive Brad of anything if he really wanted her. She had never known a man like him. He was gentle and kind, especially for a police officer. And he acted like he wanted her.

The issue would be whether or not he still wanted her after revealing everything she did in the interview room with Detective Spring. Helping Brennan pay off drug dealers. Filing false reports. And she had never intended on telling him that she had tried to kill herself in an attempt to take her life along with her baby. The fact that she lived and the child didn't was something that she hadn't been able to come to terms with for a very long time. She still wasn't sure that she was completely over it. And if she, someone who had three years to come to process it, wasn't even over it, how could she expect Brad to understand. She had been so completely selfish, she wondered if he would be able to forgive her. She had her reasons, but for some people, it was unforgivable.

Adelaide woke up in the hospital bed with a start, unsure of what had woken her. She sat up, almost expecting to be wrenched back down by the handcuff. She could move freely though. Her wrist showed a purple bruise ringed around it, but she didn't feel it. Not with all the pain medication that the doctors had been giving her for her head and face and arm. She sank back into her pillow, wondering when she would get discharged from the hospital. She wasn't sure where to go. Her house was ransacked and essentially ruined. She had a good shot at being killed by a stranger at the apartment. And, she didn't exactly have enough money for a hotel that cost more than fifty dollars a night. She'd be better off in her apartment than in that kind of hotel.

She started to close her eyes again when she saw movement in the corner. She gasped and had one leg over the side of her bed in an attempt to run when she heard the voice.

"Adelaide, it's just me." He came out of the shadows.

Brad. She sighed in relief. "Brad, you startled me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you and I'm not supposed to be here," he told her. She raised her eyebrows in question. "Captain's orders."

"Oh, I see," she said somberly. He looked just as beautiful as she dreamed him. She wished that she could see him out of that suit he always wore. "So, why are you here?"

"I just wanted to see for myself that you were ok," he told her honestly, using every bit of restraint he possessed not to touch her.

"I'm alright," she assured him.

"Ok," he replied.

He hesitated, as though he was going to do reach out to her, but he didn't. Adelaide wished that he would have, but she understood the implications.

"I should go," he told her. He battled with himself over following orders or quitting his job just so he could take her in his arms and hold her.

"Alright."

"I..." he paused. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way but I left a hotel key on the table over there. I got you a room. It's nothing fantastic, just the Holiday Inn. But, your house hasn't been cleaned and I didn't want you disappearing like the other night."

Adelaide's chest constricted with emotion. "You didn't have to do that," she told him, tears forming in her eyes.

Brad took a step forward, but stopped himself. God dammit, he wanted her in his arms. Why did it have to be so fucking hard? His heart dropped a good three inches when he saw her tears.

"Please don't cry," he begged her.

She waved him off, her hands finding her hair and tugging at it nervously. "Don't be silly, I'm not crying," she sniffed and forced a smile. "I'm just grateful. You didn't have to do something so nice for someone like me."

"Someone like you?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah," she replied and paused. She took a deep breath. "I think I should explain something."

Brad's phone rang, interrupting her. He would have silenced it but it was the crime lab. So, he answered it. They wanted him and Jen to report down to the lab. They had something on Messer's shooting that they wanted to show him.

"I'm sorry, Adelaide. I have to go," he told her. He walked to the door, not without regret. "Please stay in the hotel. I was out of my mind when I didn't know where you were."

She nodded, unable to think of anything to say to him. Before she knew it, he was gone and she was already missing his presence in the room. She didn't even get a chance to tell him that she was sorry about the person that she had been before. She wanted him to know that she had been weak then, but she was strong now. She wasn't that person anymore. She just hoped to whoever was listening that he knew that about her.

Of course, she knew he cared about her. He wouldn't have been in her hospital room against his Captain's orders otherwise. And, he wouldn't have put her up in a hotel room. She wasn't exactly sure how that was going to look from an outsider's point of view, but she didn't have much option. She hated to take charity. She wondered if that's what it was. The key was sitting on the little table next to her bed, in the little paper sleeve that hotels used. She picked it up and opened the tiny folder. Brad had written something on the inside, as though he had planned to sneak out before she woke up.

Please stay here so I know you're safe. I'll take care of Rush. Brad.

She smiled although the note was fairly devoid of sentiment. She could just see him agonizing over what to write. There was something about that man that just invaded every part of her. Even the most innocent of thoughts about him made her heat, made her want. It was ridiculous and completely unlike her, but she was pretty sure she had fallen head over heels. And with that terrifying thought, Adelaide fell back into her pillow and let sleep creep in.

Brad and Jen were back in the respective offices after a very interesting visit to the crime lab that still had Brad smirking. According to the gunshot residue on Messer's shirt and the entrance angle, care of Mike, the forensics team estimated the shooter to be at least six foot tall. Brad had turned to Jen and said,

"Tell me again how Adelaide St. James walks around on stilts?"

She had muttered something about him being an asshole and stalked off. He couldn't stop smiling. It was a good day. He was verifying everything and it was all coming back to Conway. He had even gone down to the jail and retrieved Conway's property to confirm that he was indeed, a size twelve shoe. Jen was still working the accomplice theory pretty hard, constantly citing that she had helped him commit crime before. But, Brad knew desperation when he saw it. She was grasping at straws, hoping against hope that she wouldn't end up looking like an idiot in the end. Brad knew better. Soon it would all be over. He would get the call that Conway's attorney had worked out a deal with the PA and he would be free to see Adelaide in any capacity that he chose. And he was going to choose every capacity that he could think of.

He bided his time creating a picture perfect case against Conway for Burglary. He already had the fingerprint analysis on the letter left in Adelaide's house and it was a match. He put the photographs that had been delivered into the file. He included the written statement from Adelaide. He was a little too meticulous putting the packet together for the Prosecuting Attorney. He knew Conway wouldn't be getting out of the burglary and he didn't necessarily need to put so much effort into it. Yet, it was a distraction. He needed to pack a warrant for assault as well but he couldn't bring himself to read the statement again. Just reading the words got him so pissed off that his vision blurred.

He eventually forced himself to read the words again so he could type his report. His fingers stilled on the keyboard as he went to write Adelaide's words. He touched my breast. Brad nearly growled as he shoved back from his computer, standing up and sending his chair flying against the wall. He stalked over to the coffee pot, finding any excuse to keep himself upstairs and not down in the cells, trying to fit Conway's head between the bars.

"What's your fucking problem, Brad?" Jen asked, walking up behind him.

"None of your fucking business," he seethed.

"Real mature," she scoffed. "I thought you'd be happy. She's not going to jail. You win."

"It's not about winning or losing Jen. You and I should have been on the same side this entire time," he replied, grateful for a conversation that could get his mind off the sick fuck that had touched his woman. The fleeting thought pushed front and center to his mind. His woman. That's exactly what Adelaide was. His. He smiled at the thought. She was definitely his. He just had to get her to agree about it.

"What are you smiling about?"

Brad focused on Jen and let the smile fall off his face. "Nothing. I was just thinking."

"How can you be so sure that she had nothing to do with this?" she wanted to know. "You've seen the background. You see the hold that man has on her."

"Had," he corrected. "He doesn't have that hold anymore. I can see why he did in the beginning but she broke free of that."

"She should have known better. No one that hot would have been interested in her if he were normal," she said with a small laugh. "You know you two kinda look like each other. Too bad he didn't get the mark." She drew an invisible line down her face, mimicking Brad's scar. "He deserves it, not you."

Brad was taken aback. He had been ready to defend Adelaide from the put down when Jen swiftly switched it up. She had paid him a compliment, sort of. They had been at each other's throats the last two days.

"I don't understand," he said.

She stepped closer to him and Brad wanted to throw his hands up in defeat. He couldn't go back to this cat and mouse game with Jen.

"How did you know she was innocent? Everything pointed to her."

He backed up a step. Something was different this time around. Jen seemed almost...sad. "It was just a feeling. Gut instinct," he told her, eyeing her warily. "I didn't need anything else to tell me."

"She's lucky," Jen said, taking another step toward him, reaching out and smoothing the lapel on his sport coat. He suffered her touch for a second that had him so tense he struggled to draw a breath, before he moved her hand away.

"How so?" he asked, trying to keep her at a distance. He couldn't stomach her trying to touch his chest again.

"She got you to finally be you," she said, her voice unlike Brad had ever it heard it before. "She got you to finally fight back."

Brad felt like he'd been punched. Is that how he had been? "I fought for every victim," he replied, but it sounded weak even to his ears.

"No Brad. You worked for every victim. I've never seen you fight. Not like this. Just tell her not to fuck it up or she'll have to deal with me," she told him. She gave him a sad smile and started to walk back to her desk. "It's late. They'll call if Conway deals. You should get home. I'm headed out."

Brad could barely comprehend what had just happened. He had no idea what made Jen change all of the sudden. He wanted to keep his guard up, just in case it was a fluke, but the tone of her voice told him she wasn't trying to trick him. He laced his fingers together and dragged them back and forth across his hair, displacing it and making him look almost boyish.

"Jen," he called to her, looking around to make sure they were truly alone in the empty Saturday bullpen. She turned to look at him and he wondered for the millionth time why he had never wanted her. She was gorgeous, he knew that. But to him, she didn't hold a candle to Adelaide. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I did use you and it was the wrong thing to do."

She smiled, genuinely this time and let out a throaty laugh that most people would consider sexy. "Thank God you made it worth it, then." She turned around still laughing and threw him a wave behind her back as she left.

Brad checked his watch and saw that it was close to 7pm. So he went to his desk and decided to get home. Adelaide's dog had probably pissed all over the house already, but the dog wasn't really to blame for that. If he was going to have an actual relationship with her, he was going to have to learn that he couldn't work into the night and every weekend. Not that he would want to if she was there waiting for him. He gathered up his keys and department cell phone before he noticed a file that had been left across his keyboard. It sure as hell hadn't been there when he got up since he had been in the process of punching the keys on the damn thing as hard as he could. There was a case number written across it but he didn't recognize it.

When he opened the file, his legs buckled. He sank into the chair as he stared at the photo. It explained Jen's change of heart. It was Adelaide. The case that got her fired. There were pictures. Her eyes were swollen shut, her lips were bloodied and twice their normal size. Her cheeks and jaw were varying shades of black into blue. She was almost unrecognizable. Brad's mouth was too dry and he broke out into a cold sweat. It physically pained him to see her that way. His stomach turned and he was afraid he was going to be sick. He flipped the picture face side down and focused on the words in the report. It was clear that the officer who wrote the report cared about her because he painstakingly detailed every injury to her body which took up more than a page in itself. Conway had used his fists, and various objects including an old radio antenna on her. The rape was also covered in the report but it was talked about clinically, using the anatomical names and quoting the doctors. The officer hadn't written with emotion about that. Brad understood. The officer probably couldn't do it, he wouldn't have survived it.

When he got to the end of the report, Brad found what he feared most. More pictures. He should have just shut the file, but he couldn't make himself do it. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked at the first one. He immediately wished he hadn't. It was a full body picture of her in a hospital bed. Her left arm was in traction, her thighs were bandaged but blood still seeped through. Her foot was in a cast. Her right hand was wrapped in some kind of dressing. And that was only what the gown didn't cover. Brad knew from seeing her after she shot Jake Alton that she had scars on her chest. He wondered how bad they had been. What her stomach and back had endured as well. He slammed the file shut and stood up. The first chance he got he was going to fucking end that man's life.

Brad was on pissed off auto pilot when he found himself downstairs in the jail, signing himself in to see Conway. He had one thing on his mind and he was going to accomplish it. He was going to murder that piece of shit tonight. He would never get the chance to lay a hand on Adelaide ever again. He didn't give one shit about ending up in prison himself. He had survived worse with less before. He was completely blinded with rage. When he went to pull the outer door to the cells open a hand pushed it back closed. He looked down to see Jen standing next to him. She sidled in front and put her back against the door.

"I know what you're trying to do," she told him.

"Move," he told her, his voice at a lethal level.

"No," she said, matching his tone. "She doesn't need you in prison, you asshole. She needs your support, not your revenge."

"You saw what he did to her," he hissed.

"Yes I did. I want him to pay, too. But she doesn't want you to trade your life to take his."

"Please let me do this," he begged her in a voice he hadn't used since he was twelve.

"Go home, Brad. We'll get all of this straightened out tomorrow," she told him forcefully.

He hung his head in defeat, knowing that in the long run he was going to grateful to Jen for stopping him. But in the moment, all he could think about was failing Adelaide. He heard Jen's voice telling the guard, "Don't let him back there unless someone is with him."

He left the building knowing that Jen had just saved his ass. He somehow managed to make it home and was glad when he was greeted by Rush. Having to sit in his house alone with only his thoughts would have driven out of his ever loving mind. He put a leash on Rush and took him for a walk. Without really realizing it, he had taken out his phone and scrolled to Adelaide's number. He wasn't supposed to have any contact with her, but he needed to hear her voice. He needed to make sure that she was alright.

Adelaide was sitting propped up in the bed in the hotel room. Nothing fantastic, Brad had said. She scoffed. He had gotten her a luxury sweet. The damn thing had two rooms and an enormous bathtub with jets. She so did not fit into his world. How could he be happy with a plain Jane like her. She wondered if he went to sophisticated social events, had rich friends, did charity work. She didn't know anything about him, really. Only what she had learned in less than a week's time. She shook her head. It had only been days since she met him and he had dominated her every waking thought since. It was insane. She was insane. She should do them both a favor and get the hell out of town. With Brennan behind bars, she could run and he wouldn't be able to chase her. But, that wouldn't take Brad out of her mind, she told herself rationally. Why did he have to be so perfect? Damn him.

She didn't want a suite with two rooms and jetted bathtub. She wanted a regular room with one queen bed and crappy cable television because that's what she was. She was second rate. It was a good thing that Brad hadn't been with her when she let herself into the room because her jaw dropped straight to the ground. She had wandered around the room and couldn't remember ever having the luxury of staying somewhere that nice. Not even for her "honeymoon" with Brennan. They went camping and she was pretty sure Brennan had fucked the young mom that had been camping in the same area with her kids.

Adelaide knew she wouldn't be able to continue to accept such nice things from Brad. It just wasn't her. She wanted to earn her own way, not be treated to what someone else had earned. She sighed, absent mindedly dragging her fingers across the horizontal scars on her thighs. Brennan had whipped her with a radio antenna leaving her skin looking like lines of farmland. After the wounds had healed she marveled at how straight and precise the lines were. She had thought that he was out of control when he created them, but she now understood that he was very much in control every time he hurt her. He just enjoyed it so much that he seemed maniacal.

She raised her right hand in front of her eyes, looking at the bruise the handcuffs had made against her skin. It had been a long time since she had been as bruised and broken as she was right then. And Brennan had done the least amount of damage. She never would have guessed it. But, she had fought back against him. She was never going to take it lying down again. He was never going to get a hand on her again without some serious consequences. She wouldn't allow it. Brad wouldn't allow it. She smiled at the thought, picturing Brad. Since the minute he had walked in her door, she had been enamored. She spent far too much time the past week wondering what that scar would feel like under her lips. If she was going to be forced to stay in luxury, she wished that Brad would have been there to enjoy it with her. What good was a jetted tub without a naked man in it?

Her thoughts roamed to what Brad would be like during sex. Would he leave not one inch of her skin untouched? Would he slowly get every single nerve in her body focused solely on him? What would it feel like to have that perfect mouth on hers? She wanted to feel his body, the ropes of muscle she knew he was concealing with those suits. She wanted to know what every inch of him would feel like. Her skin heated with the thoughts even as goosebumps raced down her body making her toes curl. She groaned. She really needed to get laid.

Her phone rang startling her and making her blush as though the person on the line would actually know what she was thinking about. She snatched it up and saw a number on the screen that she instantly recognized even though she hadn't entered it into the contacts on her phone yet. It felt like it was too soon for that. Or maybe she was being a child and not wanting to "jinx" whatever was happening between them. She took a deep breath and slid the lock bar open to answer the call.

"Hi Brad."

"Hi yourself," he responded playfully.

Adelaide smiled and started tugging on her hair. "This room is really too much," she told him, not sure why she was harping on it so much instead of just saying thank you.

"It's nothing, Adelaide," he replied. She could tell he was slightly annoyed.

"What I meant to say was, thank you," she said, hoping he would laugh.

She got her wish. "I just want you to relax and be safe for once."

She smiled again, her cheeks blushing even though he couldn't see her. She heard a growl emitting from the phone. "Sounds like you have Rush with you."

"Just taking him for a walk. He was cooped up in my house all day long, I thought he deserved it," he told her.

Another piece of her heart melted. "Well I really appreciate it. I wish he was here with me. I miss him."

There was a long pause before Brad asked, "Just him?"

Adelaide's body surged with heat and she felt herself starting to get wet. How was it possible that he could do that to her with just words? Words that weren't even overtly sexy. They barely hinted. Her heart was beating so hard that the next breath she took felt labored. Damn, she was nervous.

"No," she managed to say.

Brad stopped walking, listening to Adelaide's breaths get a little quicker on the other end of the phone. Good God that was sexy. He smiled, so proud of himself for prompting a response from her.

"Good," he replied, his voice deep and laced with suggestion.

There was a slight pause until he heard her say, "You know there's a jetted bathtub here. Plenty of room for two."

God damn. Brad was instantly hard. He looked around the subdivision before discreetly trying to adjust himself. Fuck, why had he called her when he was out in public? He turned around to head home where he could really get into this conversation with her.

"Is that right?" he played along, thanking God that he was even able to speak. Since when was he able to flirt?

"Mhmm," she murmured.

He imagined her sitting in that jetted bathtub, talking to him on the phone, biting her lip and he was tempted to drop Rush's leash, hail a cab and go straight to her. He couldn't though, dammit. He had to remain neutral until everything was said and done with the case. He had his orders after all.

"God, Adelaide," he breathed. "Do you know what you do to me?"

His words spurred her on even more. She had never been able to do that to a man before. The only thing she ever did to Brennan was piss him right the hell off. With Brad, she could probably bring him to his knees. It was only right that he had the exact same effect on her.

"Tell me," she urged him, wishing like hell he would just be there to show her instead.

Brad made it back to his house and dropped Rush's leash the second he was inside. He leaned back against the door, the cool metal like a God send on his overheated body. He pulled at his tie, loosening it. It did nothing to help him breathe easier.

"I want you more than I've ever wanted everything. It's taking everything I have to stay away from you right now."

"Captain's orders, huh?" she said with an adorable laugh.

He smiled, loving to hear her laugh. It was like a drug. "It will all be over soon. Conway asked for a lawyer. He wants to make a deal," he told her. "And then...well, I have a jetted tub in my house, too."

She laughed again and then he heard her sigh. "Brad, I don't deserve you."

He stood up a little straighter, wondering where the hell that came from. "What? Don't say that."

"You know you're out of my league, right?"

"What league? You're perfect, Adelaide. You have to know that," he told her.

"About what I said to Detective Spring, everything she dug up on me," she started.

"I don't care," he interrupted her. "I don't care about any of it"

"You should," she told him. "I did awful things. I...helped Brennan do illegal things. I protected him. I k-killed my..." She trailed off as the lump in her throat threatened to dissolve into tears.

Brad's chest felt like someone had piled a load of bricks on it. "I told you, Adelaide. I don't care about any of it. And I mean it. You won't be able to do or say anything to make me feel differently about you, so stop trying," he snapped.

"And that's why I don't deserve you," she told him.

"Believe me, it's the other way around."

"Why?" He paused and she pressed. "You know just about everything there is to know about me and I know next to nothing about you."

He cleared his throat. "What would you like to know?" He had considered that he would have to open up to her, but it wouldn't make it easy on him. He hated everything about his past and the only good thing to happen recently was that she had come into his life. If he could, he would take a giant eraser and remove everything before the day he stepped into her life. Then she would know every detail about him. Those were the only things that mattered anymore anyway.

"I want to know if I stand a chance at getting to know you," she replied.

Brad was startled. Anyone else would have barraged him with questions about the scar on his face, living with a junkie for a mother. If she dug at all, she'd have a lot more questions about his childhood. But she didn't ask.

"Do I?" she asked.

"You're the only one that does," he answered her honestly.

"That's all I need, then," she told him. Her voice lightened considerably. "Well, Detective Fortune," she said teasingly. "I think I'm going to go see if I can get used to using a tub with jets."

Brad groaned as his erection strained tighter against his pants. Adelaide laughed on the other end of the phone. "That was mean, Adelaide." She laughed again. "Be mean again and tell me every detail of that bath."

"It'll be boring," she teased him.

"I don't care," he said with another groan. "I want to know about every bubble that touches your skin."

"Good-bye, Brad," she said airily.

"Good-bye Adelaide," he replied, even though hanging up with her was torture. He put his phone in his pocket and looked at Rush. "Your mom is a mean lady," he told him, reaching out to scratch his head. "But she's perfect. Just perfect."

A cold shower later and Brad laid in his bed with Rush in what he soon hoped to be Adelaide's spot. Sleep wasn't easy to come by but for once he was kept awake by a promise of something wonderful instead of dread. When he slipped into sleep, it was Adelaide that he dreamt about. He would have her soon. He wasn't sure he'd be able to make it much longer without her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SUNDAY

Adelaide woke up on a mission. She needed to get her car and the things she left in her office at work. Then she was going to her house, cleaning it and moving on her with her life sans Brennan Conway. She dressed casually in jeans and the zip-up hoodie she had grabbed from her house after Brennan had trashed it. She felt refreshed for the first time in a long while. Her talk with Brad the night before had lifted her spirits considerably. He didn't hate her. He didn't find her despicable. She was anxious and excited unlike she had ever been before. The anticipation of what was coming kept her buzzing with energy from early in the morning.

She had the hotel staff call her a cab so that she could get to the office where her car had been parked for that past two days. More than once while waiting for her cab she caught herself in a daydream about Brad. It seemed like everything was falling into place for once in her life. She had been through hell and back and she just hoped that she was worthy of the reward coming to her. Brad seemed to think she was. When the cab arrived she hopped up happily, ready to get started on her day. Once she got to work she had to walk around the side of the building to the door that could be accessed by a panel of buttons rather than a keycard or an actual key. She had never been to the office on a Sunday and it seemed eerily quiet, almost like the night she killed Jake Alton. It seemed like it had happened so long ago but it was mere days.

Adelaide walked along the abandoned hallways making her way to her office. She wasn't sure exactly what state it would be in. She hadn't seen it since that night. When she approached she could see the signs of violence spilling out into the hall. A rusty brown stain led her into the office. Someone had attempted to clean the blood spatter off the walls but the attempt was poor. They were going to have to replace the carpet. The spot where Jake had fallen was nothing more than a blood soaked awful stain. She shuddered, thinking how close she had come to being shot herself. Rationally she knew it was either kill or be killed, but she couldn't help but think that she took it to the extreme. Could she have spared him?

She hadn't had the time to think about it, which was a blessing in disguise. She had been taken into custody that same night and selfishly, her mind had gone into self-preservation mode. She hadn't given Jake enough of her thoughts. The man had tried to kill her, probably would have done worse than just that, but he was also out of his mind with grief over Kyle. It was understandable. Unacceptable, but understandable. Adelaide carefully stepped around the large stain and opened the bottom drawer of her desk. Her purse was still there with her keys. She closed the drawer of her desk, intending on getting out of the building as soon as possible. But, on a whim she decided to go check the gun lockers. If it was her gun that had killed Mr. Messer, she wanted to know who the fuck had gotten into her locker.

The gun lockers were stored in an unmanned office near the front of the building. She went straight to her locker and used the key on her keychain to unlock it. Empty. She shook her head. How had Brennan gotten into her locker? She only had the one key to it. And she was positive that she had locked it up after searching Kyle's apartment. Disgusted, she shut the locker and stormed out of the room. She passed by Jack's office and noticed a light on. She looked out the front windows and saw his car in the parking lot. He had to have shown up after her because when the cab pulled up there was only her car in the lot. It was strange, but then again, she was also in the office on a Sunday. She needed to thank him for the attorney anyway.

She went to his door and knocked. The door pushed open slightly but there was no answer. The lights were on but he wasn't inside. Adelaide pushed the door open wider.

"Jack?" She took a few steps inside the office, looking behind the door to see if he was standing at the file cabinet. She saw a bag that looked like the one Rich had been carrying the other day. Jack must have been on the same baseball team. She shrugged to herself, figuring she would catch him at his car. Obviously he had come to work to grab something and he was probably off to a game.

She turned to leave his office when something peeking out of the file cabinet caught her attention. The hair on the back of her neck was sticking up and she immediately broke out in a sweat. She should leave immediately but her body betrayed her and walked further into the office. She pulled the file cabinet open and retrieved what had caught her attention. A green spiral notebook. Her hands shook as she opened the cover and saw the familiar handwriting of Kyle. The pages were covered in dried blood and crinkled loudly as she flipped through them. She landed on an entry just prior to when he changed for the worse.

I told that motherfucker I'm not slinging meth for him or anyone. He had better take no for an answer this time or I'm really going to fuck his girl.

Adelaide shook her head. What the hell was he talking about? She flipped past a few more pages, closer to the day he died.

Jack thinks he is so fucking thug. Pissed him off right good tonight. Told him Adelaide was as good as fucked.

She was shocked to be reading her own name in a sobriety journal that she had encouraged Kyle to write. What the hell was he and Jack in to? Slinging drugs? Was Jack involved in selling drugs? She quickly pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and started a text to Brad.

I'm in Jack's office. He has the notebook. I think

She looked up and saw Jack's frame standing in the doorway. She hit send on the incomplete text and slipped her phone into her back pocket. She was busted, standing there in his office holding a key piece of evidence in the murder of four men. Her mind started racing. How could she get herself out of this? How could she get out of that office? She prayed that Brad got the text message and was on his way to her. She mentally chided herself. No, he would just call her to tell her that her text got cut off. Which is probably why her pocket was vibrating.

"Adelaide, what are you doing here?" Jack asked angrily. He stalked toward her and snatched the notebook out of her hand before she had a chance to answer.

"I.." she stuttered. Calm down, she told herself. Think it through, you can get out of this. "I came to get my car keys. I left them here after everything with the shooting. I saw your light on and wanted to come thank you. For the attorney. Derek has been great."

"He's the best of the best," he replied distractedly. "Did you read this?"

"No," she lied. He knew.

"Dammit Adelaide, you weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to find this," he muttered. Adelaide eyed the door, trying to calculate her chances of getting away by just running. "What do I do with you now?"

She decided to deal with him honestly. Maybe it would buy her some time. Her pocket was buzzing again. She talked over the noise. "My name is in there," she said. "Kyle talks about you and then he threatens me. Why?"

Jack sighed, his shoulders slumped as he leaned over and gripped the desk so hard she wouldn't have been surprised if a piece came off in his hand. "Because he knew how I feel about you."

In a million years Adelaide would have never guessed that response. "What are you talking about?" she asked gently, not wanting to alarm or anger him.

He turned his head to look at her. He looked so pathetic that she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"You have no idea, do you?" He sighed again and stood up straight. "You really have no idea how much you're wanted?"

"Jack, I don't understand," she told him.

"Kyle figured out that you are a...a soft spot for me. He was going to go after you. He threatened to do horrible, degrading things to you. I wasn't going to let that happen," he replied. He looked at her and his face looked pained. "I hate to see you hurt."

"I'm alright," she said on autopilot. "So you did this? For me?"

"Yes, but you weren't supposed to find out. I was handling it," he told her. "I didn't plan it you know. I didn't plan to kill Kyle. He refused to help me. All I was going to do was make him smoke a bit and when he dropped dirty for you again, he'd go to prison. But he could barely smoke it. What drug addict can't smoke meth?"

"Kyle didn't smoke," she retorted. "You killed him because he wouldn't run drugs for you?"

"I killed him because he wouldn't shut up about you! The others were easier after that. I just realized how much they all deserved it after Kyle."

"But, you used my gun. You set me up," she snapped. "I was arrested for it."

"That was unintentional. I didn't know it was your gun. It was the only one in the lockers and I needed one just in case," he told her, his hands up in the air, placating her.

"Just in case? Why did you have to kill Abe Messer? He couldn't have done anything to you," she said angrily, talking loudly over the vibrating in her pocket again.

"I didn't want to," he admitted. "He caught me coming out of Mansfield's apartment."

"Why were you there?"

"Because I fucked up and I sat there in the visitor's room and threatened him. I needed to get his phone because I knew for sure that he was texting someone about what I said. I couldn't find it after I had taken him out."

"Threatened him why?"

"He tried to hit you, Adelaide," he told her harshly, his voice getting increasingly angered. "That is unacceptable and I won't allow it."

She shook her head, unsure how she was comprehending all this. So far, she didn't really feel threatened. Jack was being almost gentle with her. He was explaining everything so that she would understand. He wasn't being aggressive. She wondered if she really could talk her way out of the situation.

"And Matt Ludke?"

"I was pretty sure that's who Mansfield sent his text to."

"You killed him just for that?"

"It's no great loss, Adelaide. He called you vile names. He needed to go," he explained. "No one is going to get away with doing that to you."

"I'm sorry, Jack, but why me again?" she asked, stalling for time, hoping that her phone constantly ringing in her pocket was a sign that Brad was on his way.

"Because I think I love you," he told her, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Adelaide stepped back as though she had been hit. That wasn't possible. Jack? In love with her? Her mind raced through all her interactions with him. Had she led him on in any way? How had she not seen this before? This was a sick obsession.

"Jack," she said, her voice calm despite her nerves. "I need to go," she told him forcefully. She started to walk out of his office when she felt him grab her arm. Her heart lurched in fear and she closed her eyes. Of course it wouldn't have been that easy. When she opened her eyes and turned to face him, he had a gun in his hand.

"You can't go," he said simply, pulling her back into the office and shutting the door.

Adrenaline started to surge through her body, making her shake slightly. She felt the blood rush to her head and her vision started to tunnel. She desperately tried to focus on the situation as it was, but all her eyes could see was the gun. Her breaths started to become shallow pants. Jack rubbed her arm almost soothingly.

"It's ok," he was saying. "Everything will be ok."

She couldn't hear him well over the blood rushing past her ears. "They think my ex did it," she managed to say. She forced herself to take a deep breath. "Detective Fortune told me that my ex was pleading to it. He's getting an attorney for a deal."

"They're pinning it all on him?"

"Yes," she breathed. "He had been stalking me."

He paused as though he was thinking everything through. The gun in his hand wasn't pointed directly at her but he hadn't put it down either.

"What has been happening between you and Detective Fortune?" he asked her.

Her face flushed without her permission. "Nothing has been happening," she answered him, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "He may want something to happen, but it's not."

"Well, what about me?" he asked.

"I...it's new," she stuttered. He was slowly walking her backward until her back hit the wall. Now she was in real trouble. He had all the advantage.

"It's alright," he told her calmly. "You'll get used to it."

She nodded her head, blindly agreeing with him. His free hand slid to her neck and down her chest. She felt his fingers play with the zipper on her hoodie and he slowly pulled it down. Instinct had her reaching up to stop him.

"No, Jack," she told him. "Not now."

"Adelaide," he said angrily. "I have been extremely patient with you, but it's starting to wear on my nerves."

He pulled the zipper down forcefully revealing the bra she had on underneath. Adelaide couldn't breathe. She couldn't think to act. Why was she freezing like that? Why wasn't her training kicking in, dammit? She was about to be in the throws of a full forced panic attack when she saw the door slowly opening behind Jack. She snapped her eyes back to Jack so that he wouldn't look over his shoulder. When his eyes left her face, she chanced a glance to the door. Her heart took a dive as she saw Brad on the other side, gun drawn. She sucked in a breath and held it. Jack wasn't touching her. He was taking his time looking at her. His face was angered and she was sure that he was taking in the extensive scarring he had uncovered. Suddenly they both heard the door creak. Jack's eyes widened and with no hesitation he whipped around and fired a round.

Adelaide screamed as she saw Brad jerk back. He was wearing that damn suit again but she could see blood starting to seep through a wound near his shoulder. He had dropped his gun somewhere. White hot anger coursed through her body and took aim directly at Jack.

"No," she screamed at him as he leveled the gun on Brad again. She reeled back and brought her fist against him with every bit of strength she possessed. He hadn't been expecting the blow as it connected to the side of his head and he fell. She had broken something in her hand but she didn't care. She couldn't feel it. She started to run, hoping that he'd chase her and leave Brad alone, but he was faster than she thought. He was up and dragging her back into the room before she had taken more than three steps.

"Adelaide," Brad called to her, struggling to get himself up.

Panic started to swirl around him as he saw Jack one hand gripping her hair and the other wrapped around her waist. Brad couldn't get a solid breath and the pain searing through him was approaching unbearable. But, he was still alive and as long as that was the case, that fucker wasn't going to hurt her. He made it to his knees and was able to summon his strength as he reached out and grabbed Jack, ripping him away from Adelaide. She was up as soon as Jack's hands were off her. She kicked the gun out of Jack's hand as he struggled with Brad. Brad had him in a bear hug around the arms. Jack was pinned back against Brad's chest and they both fell back to the ground. Brad held tight, grunting in pain and Adelaide knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on to Jack like that for much longer.

"Adelaide, run," Brad ordered her.

She knew if she did, Brad was as good as dead. She couldn't do that. She couldn't leave him. She frantically looked around the office for something that could help them.

"Adelaide, God dammit run!" he yelled at her as he struggled with Jack. Jack was getting some well-placed elbows into Brad's already injured body. His groans of pain were getting longer.

Her eyes fell on Jack's gun but knew she couldn't shoot Jack without the possibility the round would go straight through into Brad. She needed something to subdue him. She eyed the bag on the desk. His baseball gear. She ran to it, digging through and bringing out a bat. Brad was grunting and she knew he was hurting. He couldn't take much more.

"Brad," she said calmly. "Watch out."

"Adelaide don't even think about it," Jack hissed at her as he delivered another crushing blow to Brad.

"Fuck you."

She swung the bat once connecting with his cheek and knocking him out cold. Brad groaned and his hands dropped away from his hold. Adelaide immediately dropped the bat. Brad was hurt. She was panicked. He needed help. Oh God, Oh God, she couldn't lose him. Not when they'd come this far. She couldn't lose him before she really had him. It wasn't fair. Life wouldn't do that to her. She dropped to her knees, shoving Jack so he rolled off of Brad.

"Oh my God," she said, tears springing to her eyes. "You're hurt." Brad struggled to sit up. "No, don't move," she exclaimed, the tears now spilling down her cheeks.

"I'm ok," he told her although he was in a tremendous amount of pain. "Come here." He opened his arms and she willing crawled into them. She pressed her palm against his wound earning a hiss of pain but the outpour of blood lessened. "Don't cry," he pleaded. "I'm here now, baby. You're safe. Are you hurt?"

"No. You need an ambulance," she told him.

"Couldn't hurt," he chuckled, holding her tighter, loving the feel of her tucked snugly against his chest. It was the only thing standing between his awareness and slipping into the dark unconscious that beckoned him.

"You saved me," she told him, as though he didn't already know.

He smiled at her, but she suspected it was more a grimace of pain. The blood was steadily flowing out of his shoulder despite the pressure she was trying to keep on it. His fingers were toying with her sweatshirt and she realized that he was zipping her back up.

"Back up is on the way," he told her, his voice getting sleepy as he leaned back against the wall.

"Oh no you don't, Brad Fortune. Don't you pass out on me," she demanded through her tears. His arms tightened around her.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," he replied, slipping closer and closer to the black. His eyes fell shut and he was about to give in when he felt the most incredible touch. Adelaide's lips were on his. His pulse skyrocketed as he realized what was happening. Her hand wound around his neck and into his hair. Her fingers scraped along his scalp gently setting his entire body on fire. Unconsciousness no longer threatened as he returned the kiss, framing her face with his hands. He pushed the limit, teasing her tear salted lips with his tongue. She opened to him immediately, letting him take her mouth with a raw passion that made him forget that he was injured at all. Her tongue slipped past his lips, matching him move for move. She moaned into his mouth and Brad was just about to pull her down against what had become the hardest most wonderfully painful erection he had ever had when they both heard someone clear his throat. They pulled away from each other to see two uniformed officers standing at the doorway.

Adelaide looked up at them and for once didn't give a shit what they thought about her. "He's been shot. He needs an ambulance," she told them. "He was about to pass out."

One of the officers nodded and made the call for an officer down. The other officer smiled and said, "I feel like I'm about to pass out, too."

Brad glared at him but Adelaide laughed so he decided to let the man live. "Back off," he growled, pulling her tighter against him despite how bad the pain was getting. "She's mine." He leaned his head back against the wall, grinding his jaw against the pain. She's mine. It was his last thought before he slipped away.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

TWO DAYS LATER

Brad got the text message from Adelaide. It was incomplete and he felt like his heart was about to jackhammer out of his chest. He had jumped in his car and called her praying that she answered and said that she got cut off. Of course she didn't. She didn't answer any of his calls. He had driven like a mad man to get to her office. He had never felt that amount of fear before. It was maddening, not knowing. Why was the text incomplete? What was happening to her while he was on his way to her? She was strong. She had been a cop. She would hold on until he got there. She had to.

There were two cars parked in the lot where he screeched to a stop. Adelaide's and a vehicle he recognized as the one that had picked her up at the apartment complex. Jack was there. Brad called for back-up and was told to hold his position outside the building. He acknowledged the order and then promptly disobeyed it. He ran to a side door only to find it locked. He took a step back and kicked it as hard as he could. It took two more well-placed kicks before the door splintered open. He quickly walked through the empty halls, listening for any signs showing him where Adelaide was. Every second that passed increased his anxiety. Every second was another second that he might be too late.

He made his way to the front of the office when he heard Jack's voice. He followed it to his office where light seeped under the closed door. He stopped to listen, hoping to hear Adelaide's voice but he heard nothing. Please still be alive. Please don't be hurt. He took a deep breath and painstakingly slowly opened the door. He got his first look at her and relief coursed through him, shortly thereafter replaced by fury. She was exposed and Jack was standing in front of her, looking. Brad might have let his anger take over as he pushed the door the rest of the way open. The lapse of judgment cost him as the door made a noise. He had just been able to side step when he felt the blast. Searing pain struck him like a sledgehammer.

Brad was suddenly aware of beeping. Beeping and that smell that he could never quite forget. The smell of disinfectant and bleach trying to mask the coppery scent of blood, despair and death. He was in a hospital. The beeping picked up as he realized he fucked up. He fucked up big time. Adelaide. Fuck, he hadn't saved her. He had gone and tried to be the big damn hero and gotten shot, leaving her alone to fend off that psychopath. God fucking dammit, he had promised her to keep her safe. He suddenly hoped like hell that he wouldn't survive whatever injury he had. He didn't deserve to. He heard a noise and it took a second for him to realize that agonizing cry was his. How could he have let this happen?

His senses were slowly returning but he couldn't manage to open his eyes quite yet, knowing that he would be accosted with the bright hospital lights. He couldn't feel any pain which wasn't fair. He should be in immense pain. He shouldn't have the luxury of comfort. Suddenly, he felt something stir near his bed and he jumped. His eyes flew open and then shut against the blinding lights before he had a chance to see anything. The beeping was getting closer together as his pulse raced. He forced himself to take a calming breath and open his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. He had to blink three or four times to be able to focus.

His pulse skyrocketed and alarms went off on the monitors. She was there. Adelaide. She was sitting in one of those horribly uncomfortable plastic chairs, leaned over resting on his bed near his knee. Her head was cradled in her arms as she slept. Everything rushed back to him at once. He hadn't fucked up as bad as he thought. She was safe. Jack Turner was in custody. He hadn't hurt her. Brad had done his job. The memory of the kiss entered and subsequently took over all his thought processes. He had never been kissed like that in his entire life. He had been on the edge of consciousness, blood literally draining out of him and he had been ready to take her right then and there. There weren't many people who could accomplish something like that. But his Adelaide was special. She was made for him.

A nurse ran into the room summoned by the alarm bells on Brad's monitor. His heart rate had leveled out, but the spike had gotten him some attention.

"I'm fine," he hissed at the nurse, not wanting to wake the sleeping angel at his side.

"You're awake," she whispered, taking her tone cues from his.

"Yes, and I'm fine. Please don't wake her," he demanded.

She glanced to Adelaide and back at him. "I'll just go get the doctor." She paused. "I'll tell him to take his time."

He nodded at her as she backed out of his room. He put his attention back on Adelaide. She was wearing hospital scrubs, telling him that she hadn't been home to change. How long had she been next to him? How long had he been in the hospital? Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail that spilled around her beautiful face. She was obviously exhausted since the monitors hadn't woken her up. Brad reached for her and earned himself a shock of pain. He looked down, pulling the hospital gown away from his shoulder. His left shoulder was packed with gauze, taped down so securely that he could barely move it. His nerves did a somersault as he realized that he had been undressed. Who had seen his chest? Had she seen it? He'd know immediately if she did. It would be in the way she looked at him. He had planned to show her eventually, just not now. He didn't want to chance ruining it until it was absolutely necessary.

He sighed, wishing he knew what she was thinking, what she knew about him. The anxiety wasn't enough to quell his urge to touch her, though. He reached out to her with his right hand, gently stroking her hair. She made a noise in her sleep, a cross between a sigh and a whimper. The sound made Brad struggle to sit up, ignoring the pain radiating through his shoulder into his back. Somehow he was going to get that woman in his arms. The movement was enough to startle her awake. She popped up from his bed, looking around confusedly for a few seconds before he gaze landed on him.

"Brad," she exclaimed. "You're awake!" She immediately burst into tears of relief. He was ok. Finally she could believe what the doctors had been telling her the entire time. She hadn't left his side once since visitors were allowed after his surgery. He had passed out just before the ambulance arrived and she hadn't seen him awake again. He had lost so much blood because the bullet had nicked a blood vessel. They had told her it was astounding that he had stayed conscious as long as he did. She had been in a constant state of panic and fear since the ambulance had left her office, lights and sirens racing to the hospital to save his life. Everyone was telling her that he was going to be alright, but he hadn't woken up and she hadn't believed them. She was afraid that her cursed life had just played another joke on her.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "Come here." He needed her. He needed her so much that he ached.

"I don't want to hurt you," she sniffed.

Brad reached out to cup her cheek. He dried her tears with his thumb. "Please." He moved to the side so she could climb into the small hospital bed with him. She navigated through the tubes and wires all over him before falling into place, tucked into his right shoulder. He noticed her right hand wrapped in an ace bandage. Before he could ask her what the hell happened, her hand rested on his chest. He sucked in a breath, waiting to see if she knew. Her fingers toyed with the gown but she made no indication that she knew what the thin fabric was hiding. He let himself breathe again and focused on how damn good it felt to have her in his arms. He still marveled at the fact that he could stand her touch when he hadn't been able to stand anyone else's since that day. Hell, he didn't even have to stand her touch; he craved it.

"What happened to your hand, sweetheart?" he asked her.

"Just jammed some fingers and sprained my wrist."

He thought back and smiled as the memory hit him. "You punched him."

"I did," she said with a smile. "It felt great, too."

He laughed and gently pressed her hand to his lips before putting it back on his chest where it belonged. He breathed out a contented sigh as he relaxed back into the bed. He could finally let go a little as long as he had her in his arms.

"Are you in pain?" she asked him.

"Nothing I can't handle," he told her. "How long have you been here?"

"As long as you have," she told him, burrowing deeper against him.

He wrapped his good arm around her tighter. "And how long is that?"

"Two days."

"You've been here for two days?" he asked surprised.

"I had to give my statement to the police for a long time, but you were in surgery," she explained. "As soon as you were in a room where they allowed visitors I came. I...needed to see for myself."

"Adelaide," he breathed, his chest tight with emotion. "You didn't have to do that but I am so damn glad you did."

"I just kept thinking I was going to lose you," she whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he told her gently. "It would take more than a bullet to get me away from you."

She laughed into his chest. "Cheesy line, Brad."

"But it got you to smile."

A sharp knock on the door alerted them that the doctor was walking in. Brad was immediately pissed off. Rationally he knew the doctor had to look into him. He had been out for two days, but he didn't have to be happy about it. The man was interrupting his time with Adelaide.

"Detective Fortune," the doctor said with a bedside manner smile. "Welcome to the world of the awake."

Adelaide smiled so Brad allowed the doctor to talk without cussing him out. "Thanks, doc," he grumbled.

"Well, let's talk about the last two days, shall we?"

"I should give you some privacy," Adelaide said, starting to move.

Brad locked her down against him. "No, you can stay," he refuted.

"That's fine, Detective but kindly release her so I can check your vitals," the doctor chuckled.

He sighed as though it was a huge inconvenience. "Alright."

Adelaide slipped from his grasp and sat back in her chair. She half listened as the doctor explained everything that had happened since he made it to the hospital. She was just so full of relief that nothing else really mattered. Turner had come around after the patrol officers had gotten him in handcuffs. The paramedics checked him out in the office. She had broken some bones in his cheek. Even so Jack had spent the time alternating between cussing her out and declaring his love for her. Eventually the patrolman who had joked with her earlier had ordered the paramedics to either take Turner to the hospital or shut him the hell up. She was eternally grateful. She had spent the next six or so hours in an interview room giving her account of what happened. As soon as she was released from there, she had gone to the hospital. Brad had just come out of surgery and was in recovery, but visitors were not allowed. It took three more hours before they allowed her to see him. They tried to make her leave after visiting hours, but they hadn't stood a chance. Of all people, Detective Spring has strode in and told the hospital staff to back off and let her stay. Detective Spring had stayed with her for a while and shockingly they were fine. They had spent the time in companionable silence.

The doctor had removed Brad's hospital gown down to his waist to check his ribs and the full mobility of his left arm. Brad knew that it was coming and his stress was through the roof knowing that Adelaide would see. He could have easily asked her to leave the room during the exam but he couldn't bring himself to send her away. He needed her close even though he knew that it would quite possibly change everything. She had told him intimate things about her past and he had plenty of opportunities to tell her just how much he actually understood, but he didn't. He had kept his mouth shut. Now he chanced a look at her. She was looking in his general direction but he recognized the thousand yard stare that told him she was miles away in her mind. She was pulling on her ponytail and chewing on her lip. Despite his apprehension he was about two seconds from throwing the doctor out, grabbing her and taking that lip between his own teeth. Her eyes suddenly focused on him. He felt like the wind was knocked out of him. He stopped breathing as he watched her eyes flit from his face to his chest. He saw the second she realized what he had been hiding. Her eyes widened and her face paled. Her hand went to her mouth, trying to cover her shock. Brad shut his eyes and let his head drop on the pillow.

She was quiet. The doctor sensed the mood change in the room. He replaced the gown and after asking Brad three times if he had any questions, he quietly left the room. Adelaide hadn't moved and Brad couldn't bring himself to look at her. He needed to say something. Explain what she had seen. Every second that he let pass without saying something was pushing her further and further away.

"I..." he started. What the hell was he supposed to say?

She stood and walked over to his bed. The gown was back in place but she was sure of what she saw there. The scar on his face wasn't the only one. And it wasn't the worst one. At first when her eyes had landed on his chest she had felt a surge of heat, taking in the gorgeous muscled frame. But then her eyes had focused and she had seen something so inhumane it nearly took her breath away. When she got to Brad's bed, she sat on the edge, looking at him.

"I wanted to tell you," Brad managed to mumble through the trepidation he was feeling.

Her hands hovered over his chest. She needed to see. "Can I?" she whispered. He closed his eyes and she took his silence as permission. She slowly pulled the gown away. Her stomach turned as she took in the dozens of healed slash marks that marred his otherwise perfect chest. Diagonally from his lower left abs to his right pectoral the small marks spelled out in capital letters: R A Y' S. Someone had branded him. Someone had marked him as property. Adelaide's blood boiled and she felt something she had never felt before. The strong urge to kill.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice deep, pained. His eyes were still closed. "I should have warned you. I know it's hard to look at. I know it changes things." He physically jolted as he felt her fingers touch the marks. No one but the man that made them had ever touched them. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was drowning but he didn't move her hands. "I'd understand if it's too much to handle."

Her hands moved and shockingly he wanted them back on him. He felt her hand slip into his hair, her thumb tracing across his broken eyebrow. She had done that to him once before and the result was the same this time around. His entire body started throbbing.

"What if I said that to you?" she asked him.

He opened his eyes to see her face. He prayed that he wouldn't be seeing pity, that she wasn't feeling sorry for him. But he was surprised to see that she looked mad.

"What do you mean?"

"You saw me," she told him angrily. "You saw me in Jack's office. You zipped up my jacket because you didn't want anyone else to see."

He thought back. He had done that. She had knocked Jack out with the baseball bat and then crawled over to him. Her sweatshirt had been unzipped leaving her in just a plain white bra. He hadn't wanted to notice but he did. He had seen that her body, the amount that he could see showed signs of pain. No, not just pain. Torture. Burn marks, healed cuts, what looked like belt marks and lashes. He hadn't been able to focus on the scars at the time. His brain had only functioned enough to know that she wouldn't want anyone else to see. So he had zipped her up when he realized that she wasn't going to. Remembering them now had him feeling the familiar heat of rage as it flushed through his body.

"So, what if I told you that I'd understand if it was too much for you to handle?" she asked him again.

He clenched his jaw. "I'd tell you that you were out of your God damn mind if you think I'm walking away," he said angrily.

She smiled at him. Her hand slipped back to his chest, tracing the letters that forever linked him to evil. He sucked in a breath as her fingers managed to light every inch of his body on fire.

"And I'd tell you the exact same thing," she replied.

There was a sharp knock on the door and the nurse popped her head around the frame. "Detective, you have just about the entire police department waiting to see you. You up for a few more visitors?"

"What the hell," he acquiesced.

The nurse nodded and disappeared, letting the door shut. Adelaide turned back to Brad, smiling at him. She felt at peace, finally. She knew Brad might actually be the one person that would understand the scars on her skin. He would understand they weren't what defined her. He might be the only man that would be able to see her underneath it all. She couldn't believe that road she had come to led her to this exact place with the exact man she was meant to have. Brad was smiling at her, his eyes so alight that he looked years younger than his age. She leaned down and planted a firm kiss on the marks over his heart. She could feel it beating wildly against her lips. She sat up, moving the gown back in place as she did. Brad's eyes turned dark, hungry.

"Dammit Adelaide," he breathed. She had gotten him noticeably hard just before his entire police department was about to walk through the door. "Do you know how much you affect me? Do you know how much I want you?"

"Hopefully as much as I want you," she answered him with a small laugh.

The laughter increased as the first wave of his co-workers walked in while Brad desperately tried to hide the evidence. She kissed him on the cheek, doing nothing to help his current predicament and told him that she would be back later against his protests.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THREE DAYS LATER

Brad had been released from the hospital and was on partial light duty and partial medical leave. They still needed him to wrap up the murder cases. Brad had to deal with Conway, wondering what the hell possessed the man to try and take a plea deal for murders he didn't commit. Brad couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Conway was actually protecting Adelaide. It just didn't make sense. He had fallen on the sword for her despite the fact that he used to beat her senseless. Conway was still going away for burglary and assault, though. So he would at least be out of Adelaide's hair for a few years. And should he parole out, Brad would be ready for him. He wouldn't get within ten miles of Adelaide without him knowing about it.

Brad hadn't been able to get more than five minutes alone with Adelaide during the last three days. The hospital staff refused to let her stay a minute past visiting hours and he had been inundated with visitors. Any other time he would have been grateful for the outpouring of support but he just wanted them to leave so he could kiss his damn girlfriend. He had come to think of her as such even though he hadn't run it by her. He hadn't even been able to kiss her again. They shared their one and only kiss as he sat bleeding all over her. Not exactly the romance he had in mind. And now he was stuck in his office trying to type one handed and wrap up his reports before he could get home and relax.

Jack had been talkative. Not only was he murdering any of Adelaide's clients that may have crossed her, he was also doing just as Marcus said. He was shaking down the felons for drugs and reselling them for profit. Kyle Alton's notebook documented Jack's attempts to bring him on board. Jack had held out for all of twenty minutes before breaking down and uncovering the entire operation. It spanned statewide with the shots being called from Las Vegas. Brad was more than happy to give up the rest of the investigation to the Nevada DPS Investigations Division. They had the manpower and since this ring spanned many counties, they would take point regardless of being asked for help. It would give Brad more time to focus on his new found life.

And speaking of his new found life, he was pretty sure that was her voice he could hear out in the hallway.

"I need to see Detective Fortune. It's really important," she was saying. She sounded scared, bordering on frantic.

Brad jumped up from his desk in search of her. He found her being somewhat manhandled by one of the detectives in the front of the pen that was trying to get some more information from her. He made quick work of reaching her and removed the detective's hands from Adelaide's arm.

"I've got her," he said roughly.

"Sorry, Fortune. She wouldn't say who she was or what she wanted," he explained.

"She wants me," he replied, his voice still rough, angry at the detective's intrusion.

He led her back to his cubicle, his hand on the small of her back so that everyone in the pen would know that she was his. It was somewhat primal, maybe unnecessary but he didn't give a shit. She looked so damn beautiful even in jeans and a turtle neck that was absolutely inappropriate for the Nevada heat that he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Once they were in the relative privacy of his cubicle he sat her down in his visitor chair and knelt in front of her. He stroked her arm with his good arm, hating that his other arm was secured tightly to his chest to give his shoulder time to heal. She reached out and lightly touched his injured shoulder.

"Honey, what's the matter?"

"Was Jack Turner taken to Lovelock?" The prison out in Pershing County.

"I think so, why?" he asked, alarm bells going off.

"Is he still alive?"

Brad stood up, fully alert now. He leaned back on his desk, looking down at her as she looked up. "As far as I know. Adelaide, what is it?" he asked her gently.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed a button. A grainy sounding voice came through her speaker.

"A Lovelock Correctional Inmate has left you a message."

Conway's voice came through next.

"Hi there sweetcakes. I just wanted to call you to tell you that I met a very interesting person on the way out to Lovelock. Sounds like he and I have a mutual interest. We had a nice long chat on the bus. He had quite the story to tell about what he was in for. Don't worry babydoll. It's taken care of. No one touches my wife."

"Shit!" Brad exclaimed. He ran his hands through his hair. "Shit!" he said louder. "Jen!"

Jen appeared at the entryway to the cubicle. She looked at Brad and then looked down to Adelaide. "Oh," she said. "Hey."

"Jen," Brad said, ignoring her not so warm welcome to Adelaide. "Get someone on the phone from Lovelock. Lock down Conway and Turner. If he hasn't already, Conway is going after him."

"What? Why? What's going on?" she asked.

"Jen, just do it and I'll explain it all later. Tell them Turner's been threatened and he is now supposed to be in DPS custody."

She nodded and retreated to her office.

"I'm sorry," Adelaide whispered. "I didn't answer it because I didn't recognize the number. I didn't listen to the message for a few hours. I waited too long."

"No, baby it's fine. It's not your fault," he told her, squatting down in front of her again. He stroked her arm. "Can you wait here for me? I'm going to try and contact someone from DPS, ok? We'll get that message off your phone in a few minutes, alright?"

She nodded and offered Brad a weak smile. He wished he could take her out of there, back to his house, his bed and stay in with her for the foreseeable future. But, he needed to avert this crisis before something else could keep him away from her. He went to Jen's cubicle. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. She shook her head.

"Alright, thanks," she said dully and hung up the phone. "He's dead. DPS was notified more than five hours ago."

"Fuck," Brad whispered. "What does that mean for the case?"

"Fortune," a detective said from the doorway to Jen's cubicle. "This just came in off the fax, addressed to you and Jen."

Brad took it from him and flipped through it. His knees buckled and he fell back into Jen's visitor chair.

"What is it?" she asked.

He couldn't be reading this correctly. It had to be some sort of mistake. It was simply not possible. His heart had tumbled straight into his stomach and his vision blurred a little. He couldn't understand. Anger replaced his confusion. No fucking way was this happening.

"Brad!" Jen yelled at him. "What the hell is it?"

"They just put in an order to transfer Adelaide to Vegas. As an undercover." Vegas. Fucking Las Vegas. Where he never wanted to return a day in his life. Where half of his secrets were buried. Shit.

"What?" she asked, snatching the paper away from him. "Professional courtesy notification," she read. "Are they fucking kidding?"

Brad got up from the chair and slowly walked out of Jen's cubicle over to his own where he could hear Adelaide talking on the phone. He paused outside the door of his cubicle to listen.

"You want me to do what?" she was saying. "And I don't really have a choice?" There was a pause. "Does Detective Fortune know about this?" Her voice was distraught.

Brad's heart twisted. He walked in the cubicle. Her gaze snapped to him. She looked terrified. He waited as she listened to whoever it was on the other end of the line, telling her that she was going to be ripped away from him.

"Ok, I'll be there tomorrow," she said and hung up the phone. She looked up at him. "Did you know?"

"As of two seconds ago," he replied gravely.

"They want me to go to Vegas under some alias name and work in the Probation and Parole Office," she told him. She was clearly upset. "They said Jack was dead. He told the feds that he had told the Vegas office that he had a girl in his office who was perfect for the game. He didn't tell them my name so this Agent Davis with DPS said they can infiltrate me under a new name and I can just say that I knew Jack. They say I don't have a choice, Brad."

She was damn scared. She didn't want to leave Elko. She didn't want to leave Brad. She had never done undercover work before and it was all happening too fast. The DPS agent had spouted off some crap about how her previous career in law enforcement made her the ideal candidate. She didn't want to do it, but he told her that she was a state employee and as such they were at liberty to reassign her. They needed her since Jack was dead. God damn Brennan Conway. Even behind bars he could still fuck up her life.

"You have a choice," he told her, pulling her up so that she was standing and he could wrap his good arm around her.

She burrowed her face into his chest. "No, he said I'd lose my job."

"I can take care of you, sweetheart," he told her, immediately sensing it was the wrong thing to say.

She pulled back from him. "No, Brad. I don't want to be taken care of that way," she snapped at him. "I don't want to be a charity case to you."

"You're not," he backtracked. He tugged on her arm, hoping that she would come back to his arms willingly. A few seconds and nearly a heart attack later, she did. "I didn't it mean it that way."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "Brennan said something like that to me in the beginning when he wanted me to quit my job." She pulled back again so she could look at his face. "I want us to be on equal ground."

"We are," he murmured. "But it won't stop me from wanting to take care of you."

She smiled sadly at him. "It won't stop me from wanting to take care of you right back."

Brad took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Just promise me one thing. No matter what they say, you stay in contact with me. I would never jeopardize your safety but if you are not in contact I might literally go insane. I'll get you the means to do it, but just promise me."

They were both startled by Brad's Captain appearing at the entrance to his cubicle. He cleared his throat and Adelaide tried to move to a professional distance away from Brad. He wouldn't let her, holding her against him.

"Hello Officer St. James," the Captain said diplomatically but warmly.

"Hello, sir," she replied, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

"How are you holding up after all of this?" he asked her.

Her hand went to her face. She was no longer swollen but the bruises were still there, as a reminder of her fight with Jake Alton more than a week ago. "As well as I can expect."

He nodded. "Detective, I need a meeting with you and Detective Spring in my office," he said to Brad.

"Yes, sir," he replied, making no move to let Adelaide go or jump to follow the command.

The Captains lips twitched before he turned on his heel and walked away. Brad turned to Adelaide, finding her incredibly beautiful as her cheeks showed her discomfort at what the Captain witnessed. He couldn't help but smile down at her. His hand that had been firmly planted on her back, keeping her close to him, slid up the back of her neck and into her hair. He had waited too long for this and he wasn't going to wait a second longer. His heart picked up the pace as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Her lips tasted so sweet and were soft against his. He kept the kiss light and much too chaste. It took a second before he felt Adelaide's hands slide across his shoulders, her arms winding around his neck. She pressed the length of her body into him and all sense of control left him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue in search of hers as he tried to get closer to her. Damn that shoulder wrap. He couldn't get her close enough with just one hand. He backed her against the cubicle wall hard, uncaring that that pictures were probably falling off the wall next door in Jen's office. He was finally able to get close to her.

She responded in kind, wrapping a leg around his, pressing her body against his and letting a moan escape her lips as she felt him hard against her stomach. She had never been so turned on in her life. If he wanted, she would probably let him strip her right then and there in his cubicle that didn't even have a door. She craved more of this man. She felt like she couldn't get enough and never would. Her hands were in his hair, pulling more lightly than he had ever experienced it before. Yet, somehow it was a thousand times more effective. He pulled her up higher against him so her core was pressed against the hard length of him. He groaned, trying to stay as quiet as possible when she moved against him. The groan spurred her on as she moved against him again. She wanted him to lose control. She wanted to feel what everyone always talked about.

With a shuddery breath, Brad pulled away from her and let her slide down him until her feet were on the ground. "Shit," he breathed. He leaned his forehead against hers. "If I don't stop now, I'll never be able to."

"Who says I want you to?" she said coyly.

He groaned again. "Our first time will not be a quick fuck against my office wall, Adelaide," he told her gently, sweeping the hair out of her face. He sighed again. "I can't believe I have to go," he told her, reluctantly stepping back and letting her go. She bit her lip, her hand snaking into her own hair, tugging at it. Brad let out an agonizing groan, watching her. "Don't do that," he said huskily. "I'll never be able to leave."

She laughed and watched as he tried to adjust himself. He took a deep breath and started to walk out of his office. "Brad," she called to him. He stopped at the doorway and looked at her. "I promise."

He blew out a pent up breath and smiled at her. Regrettably, he walked away to get to his meeting with the Captain. An hour and a half later Brad returned to his cubicle. Adelaide had of course left, but just the sight of his cubicle wall had his lips tingling, remembering that earth shattering kiss. He knew his time with her was going to be severely limited if not non-existent in the foreseeable future and it nearly killed him. She would be over four hundred miles away from him and quite possibly in danger in a city that Brad hated with all every fiber of his being. It wasn't right and Brad was already calculating his chances of being able to get to her if she needed him. It was too damn far. He needed to be with her. He just had to find the way.

He sat down at his desk and noticed a packet laying on his keyboard. It was labeled with Conway's name. The background he had ordered the week before. He had only gotten bits and pieces but one of the junior detectives had compiled it all together for him. He opened it, somewhat eager to learn what the hell had made him into such a monster. He skimmed through it until his eyes saw something he wished they never did. His throat closed and Brad legitimately thought he might pass out. Why had he opened it? The case was closed. Conway was pleading out. There would be no trial. Why the hell had he opened it? On impulse Brad threw the papers into the shredder as though that would solve the problem. He never wanted to see them again. And he could never ever let Adelaide know.

TO BE CONTINUED....

********

About the Author

Eleanor is none other than a Probation and Parole Officer (but not for the great state of Nevada). She used to be a Police Officer. She is married to a wonderful man who is Detective. They met at the same police department, fell in love and got married. Eleanor works full time as a PO and juggles her growing family and passion for writing at night.

Want to contact her?

Never hesitate to drop Eleanor a line via her email: Eleanor.dineen@yahoo.com or her Facebook page

Thanks for reading! Be on the lookout for the second installment of Brad and Adelaide's journey: DESCEND, due out in early 2014.
