All I've Ever Wanted by Adrianne Byrd Page B

when he saw her eyes widen.
    â€œI think you were just leaving,” she answered in a flat voice.
    He reached inside his coat pocket and drew out a card. “Call me when you’ve had a chance to think things through. I’ll be ready to listen.”
    The card remained perched between his fingers for an eternal minute, until she realized he wouldn’t leave until she took it.
    She snatched it, and he saw her jaws clench even tighter when he had the audacity to smile again.
    â€œHave a nice evening, ma’am.” His shoulders pulled back, drawing his frame into an intimidating height.
    For a nervous moment, she shifted her weight on her Jell-O filled legs, but miraculously kept her chin up. “What about my necklace?”
    The bastard had the nerve to widen his smile as he asked, “What about it?”
    She held out her hand. “May I have it back?”
    He laughed and she actually entertained the idea of bashing a vase or a frying pan against his thick skull.
    He lowered the chain into her open palm, then closed her hand around it.
    She sucked in an involuntary breath, astonished by the jolt of electricity that surged through her at his touch. Belatedly, she jerked her hand back, but it still burned—or tingled. That realization disturbed her.
    â€œGood night,” she managed to say, but her voice came out lower and wispier than she intended.
    His smile vanished and his handsome face might as well have been made of stone. For a moment she had to resist the urge to caress his perfect profile.
    â€œCall me.” With that, he turned and vanished behind the door.
    Kennedy closed the door, and then slumped back against it, her breaths low and labored. What in the hell had she just done—lie to the police? Had she lost her mind? Her answer was an unequivocal yes.
    The last twenty minutes replayed in the theater of her mind but, this time, her mind’s camera focused more on the intensity of Det. Collier’s eyes and the undeniable strength radiating from his towering frame. A war between her mind and heart ensued. Trust was what it all boiled down to…and she simply couldn’t trust the police.
    â€œWhoever killed Underwood is quite aware of the existence of this witness.” Det. Collier’s voice echoed in her head.
    She felt the ice of fear trickle through her veins and her brain churned with great difficulty through her muddled thoughts.
    If the police had been able to locate her, then how far-fetched was it to suspect that The Skulls could, too?
    From the way her heart pounded at the thought she suspected that, at this rate, she’d die of a massive coronary instead of a bullet from Keenan Lawrence. Lord, she’d just run into the man on the bus the other day. Had that really been a coincidence? She was surprised to feel tears streaking down her face.
    â€œMs. St. James?” Eve questioned in a small voice.
    Kennedy opened her eyes, as if she’d been caught doing something forbidden, and she hastily wiped her face dry. “Yes?”
    Eve smiled as sympathy pooled in her eyes. “Tommy is waiting for you to tuck him in.”
    â€œOh, yes. Thank you.” She moved away from the door, her smile too heavy to lift.
    â€œAre you all right?” the teenager asked.
    The innocent concern on the girl’s endearing face was Kennedy’s undoing. Her tears rushed from her eyes at such a velocity that her vision drowned in its depths.
    Eve’s lithe arms encircled her, surprising Kennedy with their strength. Gratitude seemed too weak a word to describe what she was feeling— appreciation even worse. But, whatever word best suited the situation, Kennedy felt it tenfold.
    Â 
    Dossman hissed at Max, “Do you want to tell me what the hell you were doing up there?”
    â€œWhat?” Max’s feigned look of innocence clashed with Dossman’s cynical stare.
    â€œIf she did see something, you just ruined any chance of