Jessica Andersen - Under the Microscope

“In here.” The detective stopped at a door marked Security Only and gestured for one of the uniformed men to open the door with a key card.

They urged Raine through, into what looked like four or five interconnected rooms with viewing glass between them and a central area. Interrogation.

Over the buzzing in her brain, in her soul, Raine said, “I’m not saying anything without my lawyer present.”

The detective’s voice softened. “Don’t worry about it. I had my fingers crossed when I read you the Miranda warning, so it doesn’t count anyway.” His eyes warmed and he held up a key. “Give me those cuffs.”

Raine gaped as he freed her. “What’s going on?”

“A little subterfuge,” said Max’s voice behind her. “Just in case Forsythe’s friends were watching.”

MAX SAW HER TURN TOWARD HIM, saw her eyes widen. Then a huge, joyous, relieved smile split her face. “Max!”

They met halfway across the interrogation holding area. There was no hesitation, no holding back.

This time it was right.

This time they trusted it.

He folded her in his arms and held her tight, then ran his hands over her body, assuring himself that she was there, she was safe. Overwhelming, pounding relief thundered through him, chasing away the terror of the past few hours and the adrenaline of the fight, where he would have killed Forsythe if Marcus had let him.

He buried his face in her hair and said her name. “Raine.” Then again. “ Raine. He didn’t hurt you?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he held her away from him and gave her a little shake. “Raine. Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m not hurt.” Tears glistened in her eyes, but they seemed born of the same emotion that clogged his throat now that it was all over, now that they were safe. Together. Her lips trembled to a smile. “You figured out the note.”

“We’ll always have that night in Philadelphia,” he quoted. “Yeah, I got it.”

He didn’t tell her how close he’d come to not getting it, how close he’d come to making the biggest mistake of his life. A mistake that could have cost her life.

He’d been miles down the highway before he’d started to wonder what, precisely, he was supposed to remember about their night in Philly. They’d met with James Summerton. Raine had held the baby. They’d shared takeout, kissed and spent the night in separate beds. Hell of a way to spend a Thursday night, he’d thought as he’d driven away from her.

Moments later, he’d been banging an illegal U-turn across a police cut-through on I-95.

Now, he touched her cheek with the back of his hand, then framed her face with both hands, not quite convinced she was real, she was safe. “We spent Thursday night in Philly. Thursday night. Thursday’s Restaurant. Good hint.”

“Thank you for coming.” She looped her fingers around his wrists so they were holding each other, staring into each other’s eyes, and he could see the truth and the fear and the awful worry, each emotion echoing into his own gut. “Thank you for trusting me and believing I didn’t run away from you this time.”

“It was a toss-up for a few seconds there,” he admitted, “but when I came down to it, only one thing really mattered.”

“What?”

“You.” He touched his lips to hers. “I love you. And loving you meant that I had to go against the evidence and history, and believe that you loved me back.”

“I did,” she whispered. “I do.” She reached up and kissed him. “Everything else is negotiable. That part isn’t.”

Cheerfully ignoring the good-natured catcalls from airport security, Max took her in his arms and kissed her the way he’d wanted to from the first moment he’d seen her in Boston. Only now, he wasn’t kissing a dream or a fantasy. He was kissing a real woman. One who loved him right back.

She was laughing when she pulled away. “I don’t suppose this helps your Damsel In Distress Syndrome, though, because when it came right down to it, I needed you to rescue me.”

He shrugged and touched his lips to hers. “You rescued me first. Let’s call it even and go from here.”

Her eyes darkened. “Where do we go from here?”

“Away,” he said. “Someplace safe.”

“You think The Nine will be after me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think that’s pretty much a given.” He slid an arm around her shoulders and cuddled her to his side. “Ike is safe, though they hit the ferry she and her date should have been on. That and the evidence we’ve gathered will be enough to put Forsythe and Jeff away for a long time, and it should allow Agent Bryce and other federal agencies to open an investigation of The Nine. Turns out I was wrong about Bryce-he’s not on their side, just not really a people person. William is going to help where he can, and Ike may do a little more digging.” He looked down at her and braced himself to deliver the bad news. “You’ll have to put Thriller on the back burner for a little while. We want them to believe you’re still in custody. That’ll buy the investigation some time.”

When he paused and looked down at her, she tightened her grip on his wrists. “Going away sounds nice.” She smiled and felt the acceptance echo deep in her soul. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the only one who’s figured out a few things over the past week. I’m still committed to Rainey Days and Thriller, but other things are important, too. Like taking down The Nine. Like taking some time away with you. Preferably someplace warm.”

He smiled at the glint in her eye. “It won’t be so bad. Think of it as practice for our honeymoon.”

She grinned so hard she nearly glowed. “It’s a deal. And in between massages, umbrella-wearing drinks and dips in the pool, we can discuss a few important details.”

“Such as?” he asked, figuring she was thinking of children and families, a major area where they’d have to meet halfway.

“Furniture.” At his startled look, she laughed. “If I’m moving Rainey Days to New York City, I’m not sleeping on the floor of your apartment, got it?”

He laughed as he drew her in for another long kiss. “Yeah, I got it.”

He’d gotten the most important thing in the world.

Raine’s love.

Though she’s tried out professions ranging from cleaning sea lion cages to cloning glaucoma genes, from patent law to training horses, Jessica is happiest when she’s combining all these interests with her first love: writing romances. These days she’s delighted to be writing full-time on a farm in rural Connecticut that she shares with a small menagerie and a hero named Brian. She hopes you’ll visit her at www.JessicaAndersen.com for info on upcoming books, contests and to say “hi”!