If you like this online read you'll enjoy Jessica Andersen 's books!

Lord of the Wolfyn
 £5.94
 £5.94

Meet Me at Midnight
 £2.68
 £3.15

Doctor's Orders
 £2.71
 £2.71

Luke threw himself at Kelsey when Dr. Fong fired. He crashed against her and brought them both down, rolling to cushion the impact and dragging her behind Fong's desk for what pitiful protection it might afford.

The gunshot still echoed in the room, but Luke wasn't hit. Wide-eyed, Kelsey shook her head at Luke's unspoken question. She wasn't hit either.

"Damn it, let go of me!" Fong's outraged shout brought Luke back around the desk in time to see the young security guard, BK, struggling with the mad scientist.

Luke had thought he'd knocked the guard out cold. Fong had thought BK was on his side. Apparently they'd both been wrong.

"You said you wouldn't hurt Kelsey!" the young guard shouted.

Fong smiled evilly and brought his gun up. "I lied."

Without conscious thought, Luke grabbed the heavy fire ax he'd used to bash in the office door. He leapt out from behind the desk and swung the flat of the blade in a glittering arc that slapped the gun out of Fong's hand. Not waiting to give Fong another opportunity on Kelsey's life, Luke reversed the swing and hit Fong in the temple.

The thud of metal on flesh was sickening. Without a sound, Fong collapsed across the security guard.

BK looked up at Luke with young, tortured eyes. "I'm sorry I called him, man. He said he wasn't hurting anyone. He said he'd protect Kelsey."

"We all make mistakes," Luke answered, offering the man a hand up. He tried not to let the words echo in his head, tried not to remember Kelsey's comment when she'd discovered him in the lab the night before.

Marrying you was a big mistake.

No, getting married hadn't been Luke's mistake. His mistake had been leaving Kelsey alone rather than staying with her after she'd miscarried their daughter. And since then, he'd made another misjudgment. He'd made love to Kelsey instead of talking their problems through.

He risked a look at her as she emerged from behind the desk. Was that the last mistake, then? Was it really too late for them?

She joined him in the center of the room, and he had to force himself not to reach for her hand. He'd done his best. Now the decision was hers.

BK levered himself to his feet, black-eyed and bloodied from Luke's fists. "I'll call the cops." He blinked as the first ray of sunshine glanced through the window. "Hell of a Saturday."

When he had gone to make his call, Luke and Kelsey stared down at Fong's unconscious body. Finally she said, "Should we tie him up or something? It could take a while for the police to show up and I'm not looking forward to another scuffle. Or…" Her face lit with a faint grin. "We could lock him somewhere."

They dragged Fong to the cold room and removed the ladder they'd used to escape their prison. After they dumped him inside and locked the door, Kelsey took pity on her former boss and turned the thermostat to four degrees rather than minus twenty.

"Cold enough to make him uncomfortable," she said, "but not enough to kill him."

And then there didn't seem to be anything left for them to say to each other. Afraid if he stayed any longer he'd break down and beg, Luke turned away. "I'll wait for the cops downstairs, okay?"

He was halfway across the lobby when he heard her call, "Luke?"

He didn't turn back. "Yeah?"

Her pause seemed to last a century. Then finally she exhaled a breath. "Before…you asked me why I never answered your letters."

He willed his heartbeat to continue. "Yes?"

There was a rustle of denim as she turned away. "Come into my office. I have something to show you."

He followed her and watched her pull a fat cardboard box out of the lowest drawer of her desk. "What is this?"

"See for yourself while I talk with the police," she instructed, and waved him to the desk chair that smelled of her.

Luke sat and opened the box. Pulled the first sheet of folded paper from the file. And began to read a letter dated ten months earlier.

Dear Luke…

* * *

Kelsey dealt with the detectives Peters and Sturgeon who arrived rumpled and hard-faced, having been called from a brutal attack over at the Genetic Research Building. The victim, Genie Watson, was a young researcher Kelsey knew only as brilliant and somewhat shy. The E.R. doctors weren't sure whether she would live.

The brutality was a grim reminder of what could have happened to Kelsey if Luke hadn't been there to save her. She shivered at the thought, and she wondered how many of the letters he had read by now. What he thought of them.

"This is unbelievable," Detective Peters muttered, scrubbing a hand across his handsome face as a pair of uniformed officers wrestled a still-unconscious Fong out of the cold room and carried him to the elevators. "Two attempted murders in the same day and they're not related? That doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does," replied his partner. Detective Sturgeon's cheeks worked as he sucked on a peppermint. "Medical research is big business. Big money. There's no better motive than that."

"True enough." Peters flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. "Let's get a few details from Dr. Sparks," he flicked a glance at Kelsey and amended, "the other Dr. Sparks, and be on our way."

But Luke wasn't where she'd left him. The box of letters sat atop her desk, neatly closed. The room was empty.

BK stuck his head in the door and addressed the detectives. "Luke said he'd come down to the station tomorrow to give you a report. He had something he needed to do."

The detectives grumbled but agreed that would be fine. They asked a few more questions, took copies of the falsified records Kelsey had found in Fong's online databases and departed. BK escorted them downstairs, still trying to make amends for his lapse in judgment. That left Kelsey upstairs in the ruined lab.

Alone.

Damn. Had the letters been too little, too late? Probably. She should have sent them long ago. It seemed she and Luke had both been guilty of hiding behind old patterns.

Well, no longer. Kelsey gritted her teeth and stared at her reflection in the window. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing yesterday's clothes and she had a hickey that rode low on her collarbone. But she didn't care that she looked a fright.

She was going to get her man, as she should have done months ago.

Angry and invigorated, she punched the elevator button and rode down to the lobby, planning. She had no job and no reputation, so she could follow him to Europe, if necessary.

She would do whatever it took.

She gained the curb and lifted a hand for a cab.

The familiar, beloved voice was a welcome intrusion. "Hey, pretty lady. Want a ride?"

And there he was, astride the sleek black motorcycle they'd ridden so many times together, holding out the turquoise-and-white helmet he'd given her.

"I love you," she said clearly before her nerve could fail her. "I'm sorry I told you to go, and I'm sorry I didn't follow. I'm sorry I didn't mail the letters."

He caught her hand and eased her onto the seat behind him, twisting around so he could tug the helmet over her messy hair. "You kept them. That was enough." He touched his lips to hers, and she absorbed the burn of contact, so much hotter than the warm room had been. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner." His lips tipped up in that old, beloved grin. "So I guess we're both sorry specimens, eh?" He turned back around and revved the bike. "Want to go for a ride?"

Her heart tripped at the question, then settled into a new, happier rhythm. "Where are we going?" she asked, not caring what he answered. To bed. To Europe. It didn't matter, as long as they were together.

He eased out into the snarled Chinatown traffic and called back over his shoulder. "I was thinking we could go sit by the swan boats and talk."

Kelsey wrapped her arms around his waist and tangled her fingers in the soft, light lumberjack plaid she would always associate with him. "Talk about what?"

He laughed, a young, carefree sound, as he swerved the bike between a pair of double-parked yellow cabs. "About us, of course. About why we should get married again. About where we're going to live and how many children we want. About anchovies and baseball teams and all those things we used to talk about. Do you remember?"

He revved up the bike, and Kelsey felt the surge of the engine between her legs and the warmth of the man in front of her. She tossed her head back as they sped away, and she laughed out loud. "I remember!"

And this time as she traveled the crooked streets of Chinatown there were no eyes following her, no stealthy footsteps in the shadows.

There was only Kelsey. And her protector.

The End



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