Lover, Stranger Part 13

"I guess we should be going then.

I still have other arrangements to make. "

"Right."

They headed for the door, but Pope made no move to follow them, "I'll lock up when I leave," he said pointedly. They left him standing in the center of the room, studying Amy's apartment with a keenness, an intensity that Grace found particularly unnerving. She hoped to h.e.l.l he didn't stumble across something one of Myra's operatives might have missed.

outside, ethan took her arm when she started down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

"Not so fast," he said.

"I want to know what was going on back there."

Grace glanced up at him.

"What do you mean?"

"For starters, I'd like to know why you didn't tell me about your being at the clinic last night. You led me to believe the police had called you to tell you about Amy."

"No, I didn't," Grace argued.

"All I said was that I'd talked to the police. And I did. What difference does it make if I was at the clinic or at home?"

"What were you doing at the clinic?" Ethan's hand was still on her arm. His grip wasn't tight, but Grace knew that if she tried to walk away, he would hold her. He had too many questions right now to let her go.

' "Just what I said. Amy and I were supposed to meet. When she didn't show up, I got worried so I went to the clinic looking for her."

Grace knew her words were convincing, but she wasn't as certain about her expression. She slipped on her sungla.s.ses, not wanting to reveal too much.

After a moment, he said, "Why didn't you tell me about Amy's funeral?"

"You didn't ask." When he started to protest, she interrupted coolly, "You didn't ask, so I figured you didn't care. Amy didn't mean anything to you."

His gaze darkened as he stared down at her.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you wouldn't have kissed me if she had." There, Grace thought.

She'd brought up the kiss deliberately so they could get it out in the open, so that she could make her feelings for him very, very clear. She glanced down at his hand on her arm, arched a brow over her sungla.s.ses, and he released her.

"Then you must not have cared about her either," he said. "How dare you say that to me? She was my sister." Ethan's gaze darkened.

"Are you denying that you kissed me back?"

"I didn't." Grace was surprised to find that her outrage was more instinctive than studied.

She wasn't sure she quite understood it. "We kissed," he said, glaring down at her.

"It was a mutual action. And just because I'm not denying it doesn't mean I'm exactly proud of what's happening between us."

Grace hadn't expected that. She stared at him uncertainly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a married man. Grace."

It was like a slap in the face. Not that Grace had forgotten his marital status. Far from it. But in truth, that was only one of many reasons why she couldn't allow herself to become involved with Ethan Hunter. She supposed she should be glad that he'd suddenly developed scruples.

"All right," she said calmly.

"We both agree that it was a mistake.

It won't happen again. There's no reason why it should have to affect our working relations.h.i.+p. We're both adults. "

Something glinted in his eyes.

"You think it'll be that easy?" "Yes,"

she said simply.

"Because it has to be." After a moment, he said, "All right. We'll forget about the kiss. We'll pretend it never happened. We'll promise ourselves it won't happen again, but there's something else we need to get straight."

"What?"

His gaze held hers.

"I may not have my memory, but I'm not as stupid or as helpless as you seem to think. I don't know why you won't go to the police with what you know, but I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with Amy."

Grace was glad her eyes were hidden behind the dark gla.s.ses.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I already explained why I don't want to involve the police."

"Because you don't want to ruin Amy's good name. Because to the police she's just another statistic. It doesn't wash, Grace." Her heart started to pound, whether from his accusations or from the way he said her name, Grace wasn't sure.

He didn't touch her again, but she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You're talking about catching a cold-blooded murderer. An a.s.sa.s.sin, you said. It takes a little more than guts to do that."

"I know that," she said almost angrily.

"I'm not as stupid or as helpless as you seem to think."

"Oh, I don't think you're stupid or helpless." His gaze deepened on her.

"Far from it. I think you're very, very clever."

"Don't give me too much credit," she muttered. Be cause this conversation certainly wasn't going the way she'd antic.i.p.ated.

"You're not telling me everything," he accused.

"Don't think I don't know it."

' "I would never make the mistake of underestimating you," Grace said truthfully. Especially not now.

"But I've told you everything I know.

I've tried to make you understand why this is so important to me.

Don't you see? If I had shown up at the clinic a few minutes earlier last night, Amy would still be alive. If I hadn't turned my back on her years ago, she never would have moved to Houston in the first place. She never would have gotten involved with . you. I've always let her down, and now she's dead because of me. " Grace paused, feeling the old horror rise up inside her as the memories came swarming back. It had taken her a long time to beat back the monsters, to subdue the night terrors that had once threatened her sanity. Amy's death, and the man who had killed her, had brought it all back.

"How can I live with myself if I let her killer go free?" Grace whispered.

Ethan couldn't see her eyes, and Grace thought fleetingly that perhaps she should remove her sungla.s.ses and let him witness the anguish, the sudden tears that were almost as foreign to her as the attraction she felt for him.

She wasn't opposed to using her emotions to get what she needed, but this was too much. Too. intense.

"I can tell you've been hurt," Ethan said softly.

"When you drift off like that, I can tell you're experiencing grief. But I'm not sure the grief is for Amy."

When Grace said nothing, he took a step toward her, towering over her like a menacing embodiment of her conscience.

"I don't know what's going on here,"

he said.

"I don't know what part I played in Amy's death, or why you seem so willing to work with a man you have every reason to despise.

But I do know this. " He removed her dark gla.s.ses, then put a gentle finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back so that he could stare down into her eyes.

"Attraction or not. G.o.d help you if you're lying to me." grace let herself into her room that night and reached for the light switch. Her hand froze before she made the connection.

Something was different about the room. She could detect a subtle scent that didn't belong there.

Standing motionless, Grace listened to the dark. Then very quietly, she slipped her hand inside her purse and withdrew her gun, releasing the safety as her gaze searched the darkness. A breeze touched her face, and she realized suddenly that the sliding gla.s.s door was open.

She started across the room toward it just as a voice said from the balcony, "It's only me, Grace. Put away your gun." Grace let the weapon drop to her side, but she didn't put it away as she stepped out on the balcony to join Myra Temple. The woman sat in darkness, the only substance to her shadowy form the arcing glow of her cigarette as she lifted it to her mouth. In the silence that followed, Grace could hear the tiny crackle as the flames ate away at the paper holding the tobacco.

"How did it go today?" Myra asked. Her voice, husky from years of smoking, was one men dreamed of.

Grace replaced the gun in her purse before answering.

"I think he'll cooperate."

"How much did you tell him?"

"Almost everything. The truth is almost always more convincing than lies.

I've heard you say that dozens of times."

The cigarette lifted again.

"He still thinks you're Amy's sister, though. You didn't tell him the truth about that."

"No." Because a man who had managed to stay one step ahead of the law wasn't likely to throw in his lot with an FBI agent. Not a man as resourceful and wealthy as Ethan Hunter.

She thought about their last conversation, the threat he'd given her, and in spite of the heat, Grace s.h.i.+vered.

"You have someone watching the house tonight?" she asked.

"Huddleston and Smith have the first watch, but they'll be relieved after midnight, just like last night."

Grace nodded, satisfied. She wondered suddenly what Ethan was doing all alone in that house. Or was he alone? Had Pilar decided to pay him another visit?

Against her will, Grace conjured up an image of Ethan's wife--the lithe body, the glossy hair, the incredible face. What a handsome couple they would make. In her mind's eye. Grace could see the two of them together, in each other's arms. Naked. Kissing. Making love. She thought about the way Ethan had looked at her today in Amy's apartment, the brief kiss they had shared, and the image changed. She could see herself in his arms. Naked.

Kissing. Making love. I'm a married man. Grace.

"So what are you doing sitting out here in the dark?" she asked Myra, trying to dispel the forbidden image in her mind.

She sensed rather than saw Myra's shrug.

"Strangely enough, I've been thinking about the past."

"Don't tell me you're getting maudlin." Grace sank into the green plastic lawn chair next to Myra's.

"You always told me the past is a dangerous pitfall, one that should be avoided at all costs." Grace heard the tinkle of ice against gla.s.s as Myra lifted a drink to her lips.

"I know, but lately it's become harder and harder for me to avoid that particular pitfall. I find myself reflecting at the oddest times. I guess it comes with age."

"No way," Grace said.

"You're still a young woman." Still vibrant and beautiful, though there'd been times when Grace could have sworn her mentor ate nails for breakfast.

Grace wasn't the only one in the Bureau who had thought so. Myra Temple was almost legendary. Myra sighed, an uncharacteristic sound for her.

"I may not be old in the real world, but forty-three can be ancient in our world, Grace." She had a point. Grace fell silent for a moment, contemplating her own life. In twelve years, she would be Myra's age. Would she then want to look back, to reflect as Myra had put it? Somehow Grace couldn't imagine it.

Myra picked up a tiny whiskey bottle--the kind stocked in the room bar--from beside her chair and set it on the plastic table between them. The seal on the bottle was broken, but Grace knew Myra's own drink contained no alcohol.

She was very disciplined in that regard.

The empty bottle was to make a point.

"All right, so I had one drink last night," Grace admitted, wis.h.i.+ng she didn't sound so defensive. Wis.h.i.+ng she didn't have a reason to be.