Scarlett frowned. Tonight's call didn't count. Tonight's call was about helping Tala. If he'd been interested at all in me, he would have called months ago.

Like you called him? the little voice in her mind asked sarcastically.

'Shut up,' she muttered aloud. But it was true. She could have called him at any time over the last nine months. Why hadn't she?

Because you're scared.

Not entirely true. 'I'm cautious,' she said, intending it to come out firmly, but she could hear the defensiveness in her own voice. So? So what? 'Anyone would be under the circum-'

Halfway up the hill her thoughts scattered, a weary groan escaping her lips. Another advantage to living on a steep hill was being able to see her own driveway as she approached. It should hold only the Tank, but right now it didn't. The sleek black Jag parked next to her battered old Land Cruiser filled her with a guilty dread. What the hell was he doing here anyway? It wasn't even dawn.

Like you don't know. Why does he ever come by? And how many times would she have to tell him that it was over before he stopped? She sighed heavily. She didn't want to deal with Bryan right now. It had been a long, long time since she'd wanted to deal with Bryan.

Unfortunately, she couldn't hide behind her window curtains this time. You're going to have to talk to him.

The last few times Bryan had stopped by uninvited in the middle of the night, she'd been home. Which he hadn't known because, after spying his Jag struggling up the hill, she'd decided against coming to the door. Having no energy to rehash the same arguments again, she'd gone back to bed and pulled the covers over her head, leaving him to sit in the driveway.

The first time he'd stayed only a few minutes. But the periods of waiting had grown longer each time. Three nights ago he'd arrived a little after two A.M. and stayed almost an hour, getting out of his car at the end to pound on her door, demanding she let him in. She hadn't fooled him. He'd known she was home. She'd been halfway down the stairs when her neighbor opened her window and shouted that she'd call the cops if Bryan didn't stop making such a racket. A minute later his engine had roared and he'd sped away, making Scarlett feel like a worm.

You are a coward, Scarlett. It was true. She'd rather deal with a psycho killer hopped up on meth than hurt the feelings of an old friend.

She made it to the top of the hill and parked behind her Land Cruiser, careful not to block the Jag's exit. She didn't want to give him any excuse to linger. She got out of her car and quietly closed the door. Her neighbor still had amazing hearing despite being eighty-five years old. Not only would Mrs Pepper wake up, but the little old lady would make sure to catch every word. By dawn's early light, the entire neighborhood would know. Her neighbors were good people, but nosy as hell. And everyone would have advice.

Still in his car, Bryan pointed at her front door, but she shook her head. The last time she'd let him in 'just for coffee', he'd refused to leave. It had been super-awkward.

Bryan got out of the Jag, slamming his door hard enough to make Scarlett's teeth clench. Staying on his side of the car, he glared at her over the car's low roof. 'Where have you-' he started, way too loudly.

'Sshh!' Scarlett pointed to the surrounding houses, all of the windows still dark. 'Do you mind?' she whispered fiercely. 'You'll wake the whole neighborhood.'

He blew out a frustrated breath. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered back. 'I was just worried.'

No, she thought. He was just horny. Just like every other time he stopped by. If he was here, it meant that he was 'between relationships', as he termed it, but Scarlett knew better.

Bryan Richardson was a total womanizer, moving from woman to woman with ease. He made no promises, so he told no lies. Most people thought he should have settled down long before now, but most people didn't know what Bryan had been through.

Scarlett knew, though. Because she'd gone through it right along with him. Their shared nightmare had fused them in a way that was utterly unhealthy, creating an on-again, off-again thing they'd had since college. Friends with benefits. A way to take off the edge when her physical need began to cloud her rational mind. Someone to turn to when the loneliness grew too big to bear.

That Bryan would never be her happily-ever-after any more than she would be his had never bothered Scarlett at all. Not until nine months ago, when she'd heard Marcus O'Bannion's voice for the first time, when she'd stood at his bedside in the hospital watching him fight for his life after he'd been shot while saving the life of a woman he'd never seen before.

Why? she'd asked Marcus then.

Because it was the right thing to do, he'd whispered back.

It had changed everything. And nothing at all. She was still alone and might always be. But now what she had or had never had with Bryan bothered her a great deal. She'd told him that they were done, that he needed to find another port in the storm, but obviously not firmly enough.

End this now. For both of your sakes.

'I'm a cop, Bryan,' she said quietly. 'Just like I've been for the past ten years. You've never worried about me in the past.'

He slowly walked around the Jag, coming to a stop an uncomfortable six inches from where she stood. 'I've worried about you every day of my life since the day I met you, but I didn't think you'd be too happy to hear it so I kept it to myself,' he said, his voice carrying a thread of tension that went beyond sexual frustration.

Something was wrong. But then again, something was always wrong with Bryan. He had issues. Jagged scars, deep inside where no one could see. As do I. Their shared issues had been the glue that had held their relationship together. But the glue had lost some of its stick.

'So why tell me tonight?' she asked.

He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, but she flinched, shifting so that he touched only air. His hand dropped to his side and his mouth curved bitterly. 'Because I feel you moving away from me and I don't know why. It's been almost a year since we-'

'Hooked up,' Scarlett said flatly, because that was all it had been. 'And it's been more than a year. It's been eighteen months.' His confused frown made her sigh. 'The last time was before Julie,' she supplied dryly.

'Oh yeah.' His lips curved, but his eyes remained oddly distant. 'We had a good run, Julie and I.' His slight smile faded. 'When it was over, I came to you, but you said you weren't in the mood.'

That had been a month after she'd met Marcus. 'No, what I said was that I didn't want to hook up anymore.' Her cheeks heated at the memory of the times she'd given in and had casual sex with him. At how little she'd expected for herself. At how very reckless she'd been. 'I still don't, Bryan.'

Scarlett had turned him away that night and all the other nights he'd shown up at her door thereafter. When Bryan had tried to cajole her into changing her mind, all she could hear was Marcus's deep voice in her mind. Because it was the right thing to do.

Bryan's gaze dropped abruptly, then winged back up a moment later, troubled. Wounded. 'Did I do something wrong? Something to hurt you?'

Pity pricked at her heart. 'No, Bryan. You haven't done anything wrong and you haven't hurt me. You're exactly who you've always been.'

His tension draining away, he leaned in far enough to press his face into the curve of her shoulder while taking care to touch her nowhere else. He breathed in deeply, drawing in her scent. 'Then let's go upstairs,' he whispered. 'I need you tonight. It's been too long.'

She took a step back, coming up short when her ass hit her car door. Bryan remained frozen in place, his back bent, his shoulders hunched.

'I'm sorry, Bryan,' she whispered. 'I can't. I've told you this, over and over.'

'Can't or won't?' he asked harshly.

'Either. Both.'

'Why?' he asked, his whisper barely audible.

'Because even though you haven't changed, I have.'

He exhaled, dropped his chin to his chest. 'Is there someone else?'

'No,' she said honestly. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She drew a deep breath. 'But maybe I want there to be.'

He looked up then, eyes narrowed. 'But that isn't me.'

'No.' She smiled to soften her words. 'We both know that you're not forever material.'

'True,' he murmured. That it hadn't even seemed to occur to him to deny it made her want to cry. He straightened slowly, studying her. 'Are you forever material?'

Tears rose to burn her eyes, because she knew exactly what he was asking. Was she even capable of being some guy's happily-ever-after? Importantly, could she be Marcus's happily-ever-after? 'I don't know. I'm just as messed up as you are.'

He was quiet for a long moment and she instinctively knew he was thinking about that day, that horrible, horrible day. The day that had changed their lives so irrevocably. It might as well have been yesterday, the memory was so vividly clear. So much blood. In all the years she'd been a cop, she'd never yet seen another crime scene with so much blood.

She blinked, startled out of the memory by the feeling of soft fabric touching her face. Bryan held a cotton handkerchief and was using it to dry her wet cheeks. The tears in her eyes had spilled without her realizing it.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered.

She made herself smile. 'For what?'

'For not being forever material. I wish I could be. But I can't. Not even for you.'

Touched, she cupped his cheek. 'Maybe when you meet the right person it'll seem easy.'

Again his eyes narrowed, this time in discovery. 'You've met that person.' He crossed his arms over his chest, going from wistful to menacing in a heartbeat. 'Did he hurt you?'

'No. It's not like that. He's just . . .' She sighed. 'He doesn't know.'

'Then he's blind and stupid,' Bryan declared, and the wicked gleam she knew so well was back in his eyes. 'I could help you forget him,' he suggested slyly.

Scarlett shook her head, more than a little glad that the moment was over. 'I appreciate your offer to make the sacrifice,' she said. 'But the answer is still no.'

'Coffee then?' he said.

'Sorry, not now. I have a body on its way to the morgue.'

He frowned, lightly lifting the thin strap of her tank top with his pinkie before letting it snap back against her shoulder. 'You dress like this while you're on duty?'

Her cheeks heated. It was on the skimpy side as tank tops went, baring her shoulders and hugging her curves. Neither her top nor her low-riding jeans were the proper attire of a law enforcement professional. But I didn't get dressed for work. She'd dressed for Marcus. She thought now about the way his dark eyes had followed her as she'd processed the crime scene. He'd noticed.

'I have a jacket in the car.' A jacket she'd deliberately left off at the crime scene.

Bryan's frown didn't falter. 'I thought you were off duty today.'

Scarlett blinked, then set her jaw. 'How did you know that?'

'I called your mother last night and asked her,' he said unapologetically.

'You asked my mother?' she asked, incredulous at first, then resigned. Her mother had always had a soft spot for Bryan. 'How did my mother know?'

'She asked your father.'

Scarlett sighed. 'And of course he knew.' Her father knew nearly everything that went on in CPD, especially when it concerned the three of his seven children who'd followed in his footsteps to join the force. She tilted her head to one side, studying Bryan's face in the harsh glare of the streetlights. 'Why did you call my mom looking for me, Bryan?'

His shrug was careless. 'You'd been pushing me away. And I was . . . lonely.'

'What about Sylvia?'

'Ancient history. We broke up six months ago. Kathy followed Syl, and then there was Wendy.'

'What happened to Wendy?'

A one-shouldered shrug. 'We broke up two weeks ago.'

Scarlett lifted a brow. This was the Bryan she'd known since their freshman year of college. His slew of recent visits now made sense. Had he and Wendy still been a thing, he would not be standing in Scarlett's driveway. 'So you came to me,' she said.

At least he had the good grace to look ashamed. For a second, anyway. Then he lifted his chin, his jaw taut. 'I came by a few other times last week, but you weren't home.'

The accusing way he said it made her wonder if he knew she really had been home those times too. It made her wonder how he'd known she was home the last time, when he'd banged on her front door with his fists. Because she didn't want to admit she'd been hiding under her bedcovers, she didn't ask that question. 'I work odd hours, Bryan. You know this.'

He gave her a pointed look. 'I also know when your car is parked in your garage. It smells like dirty socks.'

She let out a breath. Damn diesel fuel. 'I'm sorry, okay? I didn't want to hurt you.'

'Well I'm about to hurt you,' he said flatly. 'So brace yourself. I saw Trent Bracken downtown last week, eating lunch with the senior partner of Langston and Vollmer.'

Scarlett flinched, feeling like she'd been physically slapped. Then the fury hit and she had to take a deep breath to keep it contained. Trent Bracken should be on death row, not lunching with the most powerful law firm in town. 'Why?' she asked hoarsely.

Bryan's mouth twisted. 'Because they just brought him in as a junior partner. His win record in the courtroom is "legendary". That was the word the partners used in the memo they sent out to everybody in the firm.'

'Fucking bastards.' Scarlett had to take another breath, this one to keep from throwing up. 'They'd hire a murderer?'

'They would and they did,' Bryan said bitterly. 'They said his "horrific experience with the justice system" had given him a passion for "defending the rights of the innocent".'

Scarlett's knees wobbled and she leaned against her car for support. 'The innocent,' she whispered. 'Michelle was innocent. Don't they care that he killed her?' Huffing a bitter laugh, she answered her own question. 'Of course they don't. They're just like the animals who got Bracken off in the first place.' Defense attorneys looking for any possible loophole, not caring that they pushed a killer back on the streets. 'Of course they'd hire scum like him. They are scum like him.'

'I thought you should know in case you met him in court. I didn't want you blindsided.'

New tears had risen to burn her eyes and she blinked them away. 'So that's why you've been coming to see me? To tell me about Bracken?'

He nodded, then shrugged. 'And for sex,' he admitted.

Her chuckle was unsteady at best. 'Hell, Bryan. Go home, get some rest. Maybe you'll meet someone new tomorrow.'

'Maybe,' he said sadly. 'Who is he, Scarlett? At least tell me that.'

She frowned, still in enough shock over Bracken's new mockery of justice that it took her a second to process Bryan's question. Oh, she thought, and then the memory of Marcus's voice was filling her mind, soothing the frayed edges.

She wasn't willing to tell anyone yet. Not when it could, quite literally, be all in her mind. 'There isn't a "he". Not until one of us makes a move. Assuming one of us ever does.'

'If he's not dead, he'll make a move,' Bryan predicted grimly, then turned and walked back to his car. 'I guess I'll see you . . . when I see you. Next month for sure.'

Scarlett nodded, still feeling sick. 'For sure.' When Michelle's friends would gather by her grave on the anniversary of her death and remember the woman whose loss had scarred them all. She stepped out of the way as he slammed the door of his Jag and revved the engine loud enough to wake everyone on the street. Peeling out of her driveway with a squeal of tires, he set off down the hill at a speed far too high to be safe. Scarlett might have whispered a prayer for his safety . . . if she still believed in prayer. Which she had not since the moment she'd found Michelle's body in that alley, covered in blood.

The thought of bodies and alleys jerked her out of the past. Tala. Michelle had never gotten her justice, but Tala sure as hell would. Digging deep for the anger that had kept her going for ten long years, Scarlett straightened her spine, marched up her front steps, unlocked the door and stepped inside. As she locked it behind her, the sob she'd been holding back barreled up from her gut like a tornado, stealing her breath. Slumping against the foyer wall, she slid to the floor, burying her face against her bent knees as she rocked herself for comfort, her keening cries echoing in the empty space.

The uneven patter of claws on her newly laid hardwood floor cut through her tears, giving her a moment's warning before a sandpapery tongue licked her cheek. Choking on a wet laugh, she threw her arm around the three-legged bulldog whose life she'd saved the day she'd brought him home from the shelter. 'Hey, Zat,' she whispered, still surprised at how quickly he'd wormed his way into her heart.

She sat there with the dog for several minutes, then pushed herself to her feet and climbed the stairs to the one bathroom she'd finished remodeling. A shower, clean clothes and some coffee, and she'd be ready to start searching for Tala's identity. And her killer.

That the search might include more interactions with Marcus O'Bannion shouldn't seem like a silver lining, but it did. 'And who knows,' she murmured as she turned on the shower. 'Maybe I'll be the one to make the first move.'