Page 54 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

“I’ve often wondered why Cresswell and Gaffney didn’t just kill you. Why they went to the trouble of the trial.”

Once again, the pacing stopped. Aware that Burke was listening to every word, Naomi considered her answer carefully.

“If Molly is right, if I was specifically chosen to be framed, it’s likely because of some piece of evidence I handled. It was my only job. There aren’t many other things it could be, unless I saw something I shouldn’t have seen that I’m not aware of. But evidence makes the most sense.”

Her mother nodded. “Okay. And?”

“If they’d outright killed me, there would have been questions.

Maybe an investigation. Maybe the evidence I’d processed would get a second look.

I don’t think that Cresswell, Gaffney, or this ‘boss’ that Gaffney’s working with wanted that.

So they got me convicted of a serious crime.

If this piece of evidence happened to pop up, nobody would take it seriously. They’d destroyed my credibility.”

Ruthanne shook her head. “I think that the plan all along was to silence you. Being convicted did damage your credibility, but you could have still talked in prison. Didn’t you think it was suspicious that you were attacked the first week in prison?

That you were wounded so badly that you nearly died? ”

“Of course I thought it was suspicious. At the same time, I was an ex-cop in prison for stealing coke. Everyone knew that. Plus, I didn’t have any major trouble after I came out of PC.”

“Maybe they thought they’d made their point. Or that they’d beaten you down. You were at death’s door, love. You’d lost so much blood. I still see your wounds in my nightmares.”

Naomi frowned. “You saw my wounds?”

“You were in my hospital. The nurses on your floor helped me get in, pretended like I was supposed to be on your floor. The head nurse let me take your vitals every day for a while, just so that I could see you with my own eyes. The police guard never questioned it. I was there every day while you lay unconscious.” She swallowed hard. “I thought you might never wake up.”

“Oh, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. My point is, Naomi, that now you’re the genie who’s escaped from the bottle. You’re out there with Burke, investigating. And you’re getting closer. So silencing you and Burke is in Gaffney’s best interest. Or the best interest of whoever this boss guy is.”

“Romeo,” Naomi murmured. “That’s what Winnifred called him.”

“Well, this Romeo is scared. I think he’ll keep trying until he gets you. And Burke, too.”

“I don’t think Burke’s going to let me out of this house until it’s over,” Naomi grumbled.

“I kind of hope he doesn’t,” Ruthanne admitted.

“But I don’t think you’d sit still for that.

” She hesitated, but then raised her voice to make sure Burke would hear.

“And I’m glad to see your fighting spirit again.

It went into hiding when you were arrested.

I’m glad to see my daughter taking control of her life once again. ”

Naomi chuckled. “Subtle, Mom.”

Ruthanne kissed her cheek. “I’m proud of you, Naomi. I’m proud that you survived that awful place. I’m proud that you’re thriving again. I’m proud that you’re out there, holding your head high as you figure out who’s behind this so you can drop-kick them into the sun.”

Naomi’s throat tightened. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now, James and I have a date. We’re going to watch a movie on the TV downstairs. Fred Astaire, I think. Burke’s flat-screen is so big that it’ll be like going to the movie theater.”

Naomi rose to walk her mother to the door. “Have a good date, Mom. Do you need mad money so you can pay for a taxi home if James gets handsy?”

Ruthanne laughed, the sound tightening Naomi’s throat even further. She didn’t hear her mother laugh nearly often enough. “I don’t think mad money would help, even if we were going out on an actual date. Taxis are stuck in traffic in the Quarter like everyone else.”

Her mother opened the door, revealing a sheepish Burke. But he didn’t apologize for listening, and Naomi appreciated that.

“You may see her now, Burke,” Ruthanne said, lightly patting Burke’s cheek. “I’ve checked her out and she’s fine. A little bruised and scraped up, but fine.”

Burke nodded. “Thank you.” He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Handy to have a nurse on-site.”

“Glad to help. Don’t come back bloody.”

“I will do my utmost, ma’am. Enjoy your date.”

“I will.” Ruthanne threw a smirk over her shoulder. “Bye, Naomi.”

Her mother disappeared down the stairs, but Burke stayed where he was, hesitating in the doorway. So Naomi gingerly took his hand in hers and drew him into the room, closing the door behind them.

She still hated closed doors, but she also hated being overheard by his people and her son. “You heard it all, I take it?”

“I did. I should apologize for eavesdropping, but I’m not sorry.”

She cupped his face in both hands, his stubble catching on the gauze bandages. “What’s really wrong, Burke? Was today closer than last night? Is that what has you all wound up like this?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes darkening as fear morphed into lust. It was her only warning before he threaded his hands through her hair and took her mouth in a kiss that bordered on bruising.

But it wasn’t bruising. It was fiery and passionate and perfect. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she drew him closer, her arms winding around his neck. His chest was hard against her breasts, a solid wall of muscle that made her feel safe. But it was so much more than that.

She felt feminine.

Wanted. Appreciated in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever been.

She made a noise in her throat that surprised her. She hadn’t heard that noise in a very long time, not since she was a teenager who’d thought herself in love with Jimmy Haywood.

Burke’s reply was a quiet groan that she could feel rumbling from his chest before it filled her ears.

His hands were gone from her hair, sliding down her sides, hesitating just a fraction of a second at her breasts before continuing downward, one big hand stopping to cup her butt while the other flattened on her lower back.

Continuing to kiss her senseless, he pulled her even closer until she could feel him.

Oh.

She could really feel him. He was big as he pulsed against her. More than big. Heat shot to her core and she surged upward, needing more of him.

He ripped his mouth away, breathing hard. “Naomi?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes.” Whatever the question was, the answer was the same. Yes.

“I was terrified last night,” he confessed. “But you were so brave, so…collected that I was able to hold myself together. But today I couldn’t. That bullet was so close. I could have lost you and I’ve just found you.” He winced. “I didn’t mean to say that yet.”

That made her smile. Yet. “You heard what I said to my mother. I haven’t felt this way for a long time.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with us.

You might decide that I’m not what you want or that I’m too much trouble.

I’m not a young woman anymore—” He started to say something, but she pulled his head down for another short, hard kiss. “I’m not finished.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

She kissed him again, slower and sweeter. “What I was going to say was that I’m not a young woman anymore, but even when I was, I wasn’t the sort to tease. I want to be with you for as long as this lasts. I intend to enjoy every moment we have together.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a sly smile. “Every moment?”

“Well, not the ones where we’re being shot at.”

“Noted.” He started to sway, dancing her backward. She thought they’d land on the bed, but at the last moment, he swept her up into his arms and lowered them into the chair where she’d spent a sleepless Monday night. He snuggled her into his lap.

She wriggled, getting comfortable. And maybe so that she could feel the evidence of his desire hard against her.

He groaned quietly again. “I’m really trying here.”

She looked up at him, admiring the sharp planes of his face. The depth of his eyes. The way his hair fell onto his forehead, making him look boyish.

“Trying to do what?”

“To be a goddamned gentleman.”

She glanced at the bed, only a few feet away. It had been a very long time since she’d been touched. Since she’d felt alive in that way. And something told her that Burke Broussard would get her there. “What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” Because she didn’t. She really, really didn’t.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Naomi.”

It was a plea. Almost a prayer.

She touched his lips, grateful her mother had left her fingertips unbandaged. His lips were soft and a little swollen from their kisses. “Okay. I’ll behave.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said, a distinct whine in his voice.

She wound her arms around his neck. “Then kiss me again.”

He did, diving in with a combination of gusto and skill that stole her breath. She kissed him back, enjoying the sensation of sitting in his lap, of necking with a handsome man who wanted her.

His hands roved, up and down her back, pausing at her breasts again and again. She made a frustrated noise and he chuckled, not breaking the kiss.

He was teasing her. It was nice that he could be lighthearted, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Years of deprivation had crumbled away, leaving a raw yearning for more.

For him.

She grabbed his hand and moved it to her breast. He froze for a moment, his lips going still on hers. Then he was kissing her again, more ferociously. He kneaded her breast, awakening nerve endings that had been dormant for far too long.

Finally, he lifted his head, his pupils blown, his eyes hungry.

For me. I could have this. I could have him.

It was more than she’d ever expected.

“I want you,” he whispered. “More than anyone ever.”

More than her? she wanted to ask. More than the girl you loved? But she held the question back. He was no longer eighteen. He was forty-three and knew his own mind.

So she accepted his declaration at face value. “You make me want all kinds of things, Burke Broussard.”

“I want to give you all kinds of things.”

“But?” Because there had definitely been a “but” in there.

He lowered his hand from her breast and she immediately missed his touch. “But we have work to do. I have a few errands to run before I meet with Eleanor’s neighbors tonight.”

“Right.” She blinked, bringing the present back into focus. “Teenagers in danger. People shooting at us. Our kids in hiding.” She sighed. “But you have one big thing wrong.”

He winced as if already anticipating her answer. “What’s that?”

“It’s not just you going to see Eleanor’s neighbors. It’s both of us. You’re not leaving me behind.”

It was his turn to sigh. “Not a surprise. You and your mom really weren’t subtle about reminding me that you’re capable of making up your own mind.”

“Is that a problem?”

“That you know your own mind? Hell no. That someone could kill you next time? Yeah. That’s a problem.”

“They’re shooting at you, too, Burke.”

“I know, but—”

“No. I know I wasn’t facing danger every day when I was a cop. Not like you did. Not like most cops do. But I can take care of myself. I survived in the general population of a women’s prison.”

“I know,” he said and she knew she had him.

“What time are we meeting the neighbors?”

“Eight thirty,” he said, sounding put-upon.

“Okay. What about these errands?”

“I need to talk to Kaleb. Everyone here in the house knows about the shooting attempts, but he might not know. I’ve tried calling him to warn him, but he’s not taking my calls.”

“What about his wife?”

“She’s not taking my calls, either. I’m worried. They’re my family, Naomi. I need to be sure they’re okay. That they’re warned.”

Burke was loyal and that wasn’t as common as it should have been. It was part of what made him special. “Take Val, then.”

“Okay. That’s smart.”

She slid off his lap and offered him a bandaged hand. “Come on. We’ve had our respite. Time to get back to it.”

He gave her hand a pitying look. “You do look like you’re wearing oven mitts.”

“Mom went a little overboard.”

“She loves you.”

“I know,” she said with all the love she felt for her mother. “She’s the best. And she’s at risk, too.” She scowled. “When we catch Gaffney, I want five minutes with him. Trying to hurt my mother…”

He came to his feet and kissed her exposed fingertips. “I wouldn’t want to be John Gaffney in those five minutes.”

“Damn straight. Come on.”

“Um, I can’t. You go first. I’ll join you in the study in a few minutes. I need to…well, get things under control.”

Despite the gravity of their situation, she glanced at his groin before grinning up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He tapped the end of her nose. “You don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“I’m a thirty-six-year-old woman who was in prison for five years and married to an abusive creep before that. I’ve had a long dry spell. So, yes, I’m extremely happy about it.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the bed. “You need to go. Right now.”

She giggled, clamping her hand over her mouth to quell the foreign sound. “I’m going, I’m going.”