Allison Brennan - Playing Dead

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s true. I haven’t been truly happy in years. Except when I’m with you. You make me put aside everything else. You make me want a happily-ever-after I never believed I deserved.”

“How can you say that? You deserve happiness. Maybe more than most.”

“You make me believe that.” She reached up and touched his face. So gently, so lightly, but it ignited a deep passion inside. A turning point.

She brought his head down to hers, kissed him with a quiet intimacy that stirred his soul. “You’re the only thing in my messy life that gives me hope for the future. I have some things I need to do, and I wouldn’t blame you for not understanding when it all comes out. But I hope you’ll be here.”

“I’ll be here, Claire. There’s nothing you can do that could change the way I feel about you.” He wished he could say the same for his own deception.

She smiled, her eyes still sad and troubled. “I love you, Mitch. I’ve never said that before. I never believed in love. But I watched you sleep last night. And it just clicked and I knew. Life is too short. I had to tell you.”

“Sweetheart, I feel the same way.” He did. Why couldn’t he tell her? Why couldn’t he say the words he knew in his heart?

Because they would be coming from a liar, a man he pretended to be. He needed to tell her he loved her after she knew the truth about him, when there were no secrets between them. When she hated him.

He kissed her, pulling her into his arms to get a better angle at those perfect lips. Her arms went around him, her fingers holding his head to hers, her heart beating as fast as his.

The doorbell rang. Mitch tensed. It was time.

“I don’t want to get up,” Claire moaned, then sighed and extricated herself from their embrace.

She slid off the couch, kissing Mitch again before walking to the door. She looked through the peephole and said, “Company.”

Mitch straightened, resisting the urge to stand. Claire didn’t sound. . angry. Or surprised.

She opened the door and a familiar stranger stood on the other side. Where did Mitch know him from?

“Dave, I didn’t expect you tonight.”

Dave. Dave Kamanski. His father, Bill Kamanski, had been Claire’s guardian when Tom was convicted. Claire had talked about him, said he was the brother she never had. Kamanski was a good two inches shorter than Mitch, but broader, built like a linebacker. He was a cop, Mitch would have him pegged even if he didn’t already know it. He had cop eyes, a cop stance, and he wore two weapons-a 9mm in a holster in the small of his back-Mitch had only a glimpse of it when he entered, but Mitch was good with guns. And he also wore an ankle holster with a smaller firearm. Probably a slim.25. It wasn’t obvious unless you knew what to look for.

Mitch did.

And so did Claire, which is why Mitch never carried when he was with her. He hated it, because it potentially put him and Claire in danger. But protecting his cover at this point was more important.

Dave glared at Mitch. “Claire, we need to talk.”

“It must be important if you came all this way.”

Claire led Dave into the living room. “Dave, this is Mitch Bianchi. I told you about him. Mitch, Dave Kamanski.” She plastered on an uneasy smile. “I told you about him as well. No secrets.”

Mitch stared at Dave, who returned the glare. Mitch was trying to sit casually, but he had to stand. He tried to stand casually, but knew he failed. Dave was in attack stance and Mitch was on full alert. Something was wrong. Against his better judgment, he extended his hand. Dave didn’t move.

Claire frowned and said to Dave, “We can go to the kitchen if you want privacy.”

“No. No secrets, right?”

There was a knock at the door.

“Damn,” Claire muttered. “I thought I was going to have a relaxing evening.” She caught Mitch’s eye. He saw the worry, the frustration, and the affection. Then her face cleared and she was in business, defensive mode as she turned to the door.

Claire walked to the door, shaking her head. Something was up with Dave, and she wished she could get him alone for five minutes. Then get him out of here. She needed time to unwind with Mitch, to clear her head and figure out what her next step would be.

But maybe Dave knew something about her dad. . that worried her. What if there was a sting in progress? What if they were tracking her father right now? And Dave wanted to warn her, but Mitch was here. .

She glanced through the peephole again. Agent Steve Donovan. She pounded her fist on the wall. “I don’t believe this!” She flung open the door. “What are you doing here? Harassing me again?”

“We can do this easy or hard, whatever you like,” Agent Donovan said, then saw Dave and Mitch in the living room. “You might want to get rid of your company. We don’t need to bring anyone else into this business.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, anger and hurt building inside. She didn’t want to do this. Why did Agent Donovan have to come by now ? Why did he have to mentally torture her this way? How could she throw him off without outright lying to him?

Donovan started to step inside, but Claire put up her hand. She’d never let the Fed into her house before, and she wasn’t about to now. “Stand there. Talk.”

“The hard way? I can bring you in for questioning.”

Dave crossed over and stood next to her. “I’m Sergeant David Kamanski with the Sacramento Police Department. Is Ms. O’Brien under arrest?”

“I don’t have to arrest her to bring her in for questioning.”

“And she doesn’t have to come in unless you arrest her.”

“Dave,” Claire said, putting up her hand. “I’ve handled Agent Donovan before. This is nothing new.”

“I’m afraid this is something new,” Donovan said. “You’re interfering with a federal investigation. Give me ten minutes and I’ll have the U.S. Attorney’s office draft up a warrant for your arrest. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt right now, but you have some questions to answer or I will bring you in.”

“I’m not interfering with anything.”

Donovan looked at a slip of paper in his hand. “This morning, you spoke with Detective Theo Barker with the Davis Police Department and obtained a copy of Oliver Maddox’s missing person’s report under the pretense of being a private investigator working on an insurance claim.”

“I am a private investigator and I do work insurance claims,” Claire said, her heart pounding. Why now? Why in front of Dave? God, why in front of Mitch? She didn’t want to drag either of them into this. But she couldn’t back down. Backing down was a sign of weakness.

“You also spoke with Tammy Amunson yesterday on the UCD campus regarding what she knew of her boyfriend Oliver Maddox’s disappearance and the thesis he was working on. Then this morning you had a verbal argument with Professor Don Collier, said individual’s advisor. Collier canceled his classes and no one has seen him since. You need to come clean, Claire. What did you and Collier argue about?”

“He canceled his classes?” She’d suspected he was hiding something. Now she knew. She had to talk again to Sizemore, the head of the Western Innocence Project. Something was strange with that operation, or at least about how her father’s case had been handled. It reminded her that she needed to do a more thorough background check on Collier, and for that she’d need to go back to the Rogan-Caruso offices.

“Well?”

“I didn’t break any laws,” she said, distracted. “You can leave now.”

“I think you’ve been in contact with your father, Claire,” Donovan said suddenly, shocking her into a double take.