Detective Daddy

by Mallory Kane

• ISBN13: 9780373746217
• ISBN10: 0373746210
• Edition: Large
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2011-09-06
• Publisher: Harlequin

Summary

He learned he was going to be a daddy the same day his parents'murderer was set free. But Detective Ash Kendall was determined to keep it together. After all, one woman was at the center of everything, and Rachel Stevens had a lot of explaining to do. The lovely DNA proi ler had no idea her evidence would reopen Ash's old wounds. Despite all they'd been through, she hadn't stopped loving the man who just found out he was going to be a daddy. And with someone desperate to keep the secrets of the Christmas Eve Murders hidden, Ash was the only man who could protect Rachel and her baby.

Excerpts

Ashton John Kendall stormed through the squad room, ignoring the curious gazes of his fellow detectives. He headed straight toward the back, where the Crime Scene Investigations unit had their desks.

He hadn't slept a wink the night before, after delivering the bad news to his family. God, that had been hard.

He could have talked to Rachel last night as well, but—no. He'd been too angry. Way too angry.

Problem was, eight hours of tossing and turning hadn't lessened his fury one bit. Hell, he hadn't even stopped at the coffee shop for his usual coffee and casual flirting with the blonde barista.

He rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. That was odd. Rachel wasn't at her desk.

She was always here by this time. He glanced at his watch to be sure. Eight-thirty. During the weeks when they'd dated, he'd found out how obsessive she was about being on time. She liked to get any paperwork out of the way first thing before heading to the lab, so her schedule would be clear in the case of an emergency.

"Damn it, where is she?" he snapped to no one in particular.

"Good morning, Ash," the transcriptionist sitting at a tiny computer table against the wall said.

He smiled at her and tried to tamp down his anger. "Hi, Vanessa. How's your brother?" He and Vanessa had dated for a short while a couple of years ago. They'd had fun.

She beamed at his question. "He's doing really well. He's acting like his old self again."

"I'm glad. A shame that he had to go through a triple bypass at thirty-three. Have you seen Rachel?"

Vanessa shook her head. "No. She's been late a couple of days this past week. She should be in anytime now."

Rachel Stevens late for work—and not once but several times?

Jack Bearden walked in with a steaming cup of coffee. "Morning," he said. He, Rachel and Frank Marino were the senior criminalists for the Ninth District of the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department.

"What about the lab? Could she be down there?" Ash asked Vanessa.

"Maybe, but I doubt it. You know how she likes to clear her desk first thing in the morning."

Ash took a deep breath, working to control the anger that was building up again. "Tell Rachel I need to talk to her as soon as she—"

"Ash?"

He whirled around to see Rachel standing there, clutching a big leather purse. She looked pale. "Here I am," she said, spreading her hands and offering a smile that looked pasted on.

Just seeing her ramped up his anger another notch. "Yeah, we need to talk," he snapped.

Rachel ducked her head and slid past him to her desk. She laid down her purse and started to take off her raincoat, but apparently decided to leave it on. She slid her fingers around the back of her neck to free her ponytail.

"Have a seat," she offered, pointing to a straight-back chair.

"Not—here," he grated.

Rachel looked up, startled, as did Vanessa and Jack. Ash sucked in a breath and consciously relaxed his jaw. "Can we—?" He inclined his head in the general direction of the squad room.

She studied his face, her own still pale, her lips pressed tightly together. Then she nodded and stepped past him.

"Where?" she asked evenly.

"Room three." Interrogation Room Three wouldn't be occupied unless there had been a drug raid or a gang war during the night. Sure enough it was empty.

Ash held the door for her, then closed it behind him. Rachel sat down and folded her arms. She looked miserable—and guilty. As well she should.

But she also looked small and scared. A hollow feeling in the middle of his chest, which had been there ever since he'd cooled things between them, began to throb. He rubbed the spot with his knuckles. Maybe it was indigestion.

"Ash?" Rachel said tentatively. "Will this take long? Because I've got a lot to do this morning."

He quelled the urge to stand over her as if she were a suspect. Instead he pulled out a chair across from her and sat, flattening his palms on the table-top.

Rachel watched him, her eyes wide in her pale face. Pink spots rose in her cheeks. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

She looked frightened. He knew he could be formidable. His brothers used to call him the berserker when they were kids. But he'd never turned his wrath on a woman. With an effort, he composed his face. He wanted her to speak first. Wanted her to own up to what she'd done without him having to drag it out of her. Own up and apologize.

She frowned and her gaze dropped to his hands. She took a long, shaky breath. "Ash, I don't know what you've heard—"

"You don't?" he interrupted, irritated by her hedging. "Really? You didn't think I'd find out eventually? I guess you hoped I wouldn't get wind of it until the official announcement."

Rachel recoiled as if he'd slapped her. "The official—?"

Ash leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "Do you know I had to sit my family down last night and tell them? Can you imagine how devastated they were? Especially Natalie."

He pushed his chair back and stood. He was too angry to stay seated any longer. He walked over to the two-way mirror and watched her reflection.

To his surprise, she was staring at him with a look of confused horror on her face. Was it a distortion of the mirror? He turned. No. She still looked confused.

"Natalie devastated? I'm not sure what you're talking about—" Rachel stopped, biting her lip. She rubbed her temple with two fingers. "Wh-what did you say to them?"

"Come on, Rach, what do you think I said?"

Rachel blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek. She shook her head. "I don't think I und—"

"That's right," he interrupted. "You didn't think. You obviously didn't consider what this would do to me. To my family. Why didn't you refuse? I'll bet it was Meeks, wasn't it? I know you've been seeing him. Are you two still tight? Did he talk you into doing it?" She'd dated Tim Meeks, an assistant district attorney, for a few weeks after Ash had delivered his patented Let's cool things off for a while spiel. And everybody in the squad knew how ambitious Meeks was.

Rachel swiped at the tear, her eyes narrowing. For the first time she didn't look terrified. He was relieved. Even though he was angry enough at her to spit nails, he hadn't intended to make her cower.

"Tim? Talked me into—?" She looked down at her hands just a second, then back up at him. Gone were the confusion, the horrified expression, even the guilt. In their place was what looked like relief.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said archly. "I feel like I walked into the middle of a suspense thriller. Why don't you start at the beginning and tell me just exactly what you think I've done, and why you think Tim Meeks talked me into doing it."

Now Ash was confused. But his stoked fury overrode all other emotions. "You know, I have friends in the D.A.'s office, too. My friend was kind enough to give me a heads-up. I appreciated the advance warning. Of course, I'd have appreciated it more coming from you."

"Warning?"

Ash slammed down his palm on the table. "Would you stop acting like you just landed on the planet?" He clenched his jaw. "Rick Campbell—

I'm assuming you know who he is?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Small-time burglar, loser, slaughtered my parents in their beds twenty years ago?"

Rachel's eyes went wide. She didn't acknowledge his question.

"Is it coming back to you now? His family finally managed to convince District Attorney Jesse Allen to reopen the case and retest the DNA. They're sure that DNA evidence will prove their son didn't murder my parents."

"DNA evidence? Oh, my God."

Ash studied Rachel. Was that surprise or guilt? Of all the terms he might use to describe her, including dedicated, professional, beautiful, sweet and sexy-as-hell, the words sneaky, underhanded or traitorous would never come to mind.

"What? Suddenly you remember what you did? Dr. Rachel Stevens, Criminalist, DNA Profiling? It was Meeks, wasn't it? He got you to do it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't—I didn't know," she whispered, her face blanching. The pink spots were gone now. "It was a blind request."

"Right," he retorted. "You expect me to believe—" But Ash didn't get to finish, because Rachel moaned and put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, no," she mumbled. She shot up out of her chair. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well," she muttered as she lurched toward the door.

"Hey, come back here. I need to know the results—" But she was through the door and rushing down the hall, her hand over her mouth.

Ash stared, openmouthed, at her back as she ran from the room.