One-Night Alibi. Kara Lennox

out of the window, pointed his gun straight at Hudson and squeezed off a shot.

      Liz screamed.

      Fortunately, Hudson pulled back around the corner, and the shot wasn’t too well aimed to begin with. He heard the bullet whiz past his head and sail off into the trees behind the house.

      Hudson would have been well within his rights to shoot the guy, but he didn’t return fire. Maybe it was because he was already in so much trouble; if he added deadly force to the mix, even justified, his career was over. Or maybe it was simply because he didn’t want to take the life of some scrawny drug addict.

      If the burglar had raised his gun again, Hudson would have shot him. But he didn’t. He turned and vaulted over the balcony railing. It was a long drop, but the guy landed on his feet. Hudson watched him hightail it out to the street and away like a jackrabbit on fire.

      “Are you okay?” Liz asked, coming up behind him.

      “He missed me by a mile. Not even sure he was really trying to hit me, though he ought to know better than to draw down on an armed cop.”

      “Maybe he didn’t know you were a cop.”

      “I identified myself.” The more he thought about it, the more disturbed he became.

      He’d never had any crime problems here before. His house wasn’t an attractive target for burglars; he didn’t have any fancy electronics or silver or jewelry. And if a burglar were simply choosing a house at random, there were plenty of unoccupied vacation cabins around.

      “We should call the police,” Liz said.

      “I am the police.”

      “Well, yeah, but shouldn’t you report this? Maybe he’s still in the area.”

      “You kidding? The way that guy was running, he’s halfway to Louisiana by now.”

      “What about evidence? Fingerprints and such.”

      “They wouldn’t send out CSI for an attempted burglary.”

      “Attempted murder more like it,” Liz argued. “He could have killed you.”

      “He wore gloves. He didn’t leave behind any evidence.”

      “What about his tattoo? Did you see that?”

      Now that he thought about it, Hudson did remember seeing a tattoo on the man’s forearm. Something like a big fish. Now, that could be useful.

      “I’ll call it in tomorrow,” he said, “but it’s the kind of almost-crime that makes most cops shrug.” Not to mention, he didn’t want to have any contact with his fellow cops right now. Most of the guys he worked with didn’t believe he’d beaten up Franklin Mandalay for no reason. They knew him better than that. But he couldn’t take their well-meaning pity.

      Hudson took the bat out of Liz’s hands. “You could have been killed. Next time I tell you to hide in the bathroom, hide in the bathroom. And by the way, that’s a fetching outfit you have on.”

      He couldn’t be sure, because it was too dark, but he thought he saw the hint of a blush as she turned and went back inside.

      “I wasn’t going to let you go out there alone.”

      “I’m a cop. You’re not. But...thank you.” He tossed the bat aside, put the gun in the drawer of his nightstand, handy in case the guy came back. When he refocused his attention on Liz, she was shrugging her way out of his shirt.

      Hudson went instantly hard, ready to go again. Judging from the look on Liz’s face, she was ready, too.

      “Oh. My,” she said when he shucked his pants. “I’ve heard adrenaline sharpens one’s libido, but here I have some rather convincing proof.”

      “Adrenaline’s got nothing to do with it, sugar. It’s all you.” He playfully wrestled her down to the bed and kissed her—hard and fast, then slow and soft.

      “Liz,” he said before the lovemaking got so involved that he lost any ability to think or speak. “There’s something you probably should know about me.”

      “I know all I need to know.”

      “Maybe not. I was suspended last week. A guy I arrested claims I beat him up for no good reason. Unless Internal Affairs clears me—and really, I have no way to prove the guy’s lying—I might be out of a job.”

      “You’re telling me this now...because...?”

      “Because I want to see you again. But I figured you ought to know the worst before you decide if that’s gonna happen.”

      For a moment she looked unbearably sad. Had he disappointed her that thoroughly? But what she said next surprised him.

      “I already knew.”

      “What?”

      “I saw it on TV. That’s why I was staring at you at the wedding. I recognized you.”

      “Oh.” He rolled away from her, trying to wrap his mind around the implications. “Please don’t tell me you’re turned on by the idea that I’m violent.”

      “No,” she said quickly. “It’s not that at all.”

      “Then what’s this about?” Some women were attracted to notoriety, even the negative kind. “You like bad boys? ’Cause I’m not one.”

      “I know you’re not. I confess I was a bit curious, but after spending a very short time with you, I was sure you couldn’t have done what you’re accused of.”

      “Really? That seems a little naive.” All those doubts he had about why she’d come on to him reared their ugly heads. He should have listened to his gut when it told him something was off-kilter. His gut was always right. “Did Mandalay send you? Or his lawyer?”

      She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Good God, no.”

      “That would be a good ploy. Send the pretty girl to seduce the sucker. Set up a fake burglary. Maybe coax the disgraced cop into yet another violent act, conveniently witnessed by said pretty girl—”

      “You can’t think I had anything to do with that.”

      “I don’t know what to think. Most women would have cowered behind a locked door. But you were right behind me, where you could clearly see everything that happened.”

      “I’m not most women.”

      He wished she didn’t look so damn fetching wrapped in a sheet. Even while he suspected she might be trying to finish trashing his career, he wanted her with an acuteness that stole his breath away.

      Hudson scrubbed his face with one hand. Maybe he’d made a mistake. “Okay. Okay, I’m probably wrong.”

      “Maybe I should go home now.”

      “Liz, you don’t have to leave.”

      “Oh, I think I do. Don’t stir yourself. I’ll call a cab.”

      “No, I’ll take you home.” Maybe she’d cool off on the drive to her home. Maybe he could undo what might have been the worst mistake of his life. “Just let me jump in the shower. I won’t be five minutes.” He needed a shower in the worst way. A cold one.

      He didn’t wait for her to agree. He scooted off the bed and trotted to the bathroom. He’d be done by the time she was dressed.

      He scrubbed down quickly, then dried off and brushed his teeth. He’d be damned if he’d force her to deal with his morning breath. In the unlikely event she let him get close enough that she could smell his breath.

      A quick swipe of deodorant, and all that was left was to throw on some clothes. He exited the bathroom.

      “Liz?”

      Nothing. He checked the kitchen, living room and