“Now you’re insulting what I do for a living?”

“Just clearing the air, babe.”

Her fingers curled into her palms. “Don’t you dare call me babe.”

“Hey, why not? We’re tight. Aren’t I your local source of entertainment? Be sure to stop by before you head out to your next big career move. We can do each other before you go. Because hey, the sex was great.”

All the color drained from Jill’s face. She opened her mouth, closed it, then turned on her heel and left.

Mac watched her go. The second the glass door closed behind her, his anger and energy spilled away, leaving him feeling slimy and spent.

What the hell had he been thinking? Why had he wanted to hurt Jill? A voice inside whispered, because he’d been hurt, but that didn’t make any sense. He’d known the rules when he’d gotten involved with her. That this was temporary—fun between friends. Nothing about that had changed. So why did he feel like shit inside?

He walked into the main office, then to the front desk.

“Jill say anything about a wife beater?” he asked.

Wilma handed him a piece of paper with two names. “Want to tell me what happened?” she asked. “Nope.”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER Mac parked in front of a small bungalow-style house. The place couldn’t be more than eight hundred square feet, with a narrow, cracked cement walk leading from the sidewalk to the front door.

The paint had long since faded to a pale gray and the screens were torn, but every inch looked unnaturally clean. Even the splintering flower boxes by the front window were pristine, if empty.

He walked to the door and knocked. After a minute or two, a young woman answered. He introduced himself and asked if he could come in for a few minutes.

Kim Murphy might be twenty-four, but she looked sixteen and incredibly pregnant. She’d been pretty at one time; now she just looked scared. The kind of scared that came from a lifetime of living in fear of her life. Her eyes were wary, and her mouth quivered at the corner.

“Andy’s not here,” she said, her eyes darting between him and the patrol car parked in front, as if expecting to see her husband bolt out of the back and hurtle to ward her. “He doesn’t like me letting anyone in.”

“We can talk right here,” Mac said quietly, going for a calm and safe tone.

She bit her lower lip, then held open the door. Apparently her fear of Andy knowing someone had come inside was less than her fear of a neighbor seeing Mac lurking at her front door.

The tiny living room was as spotless as the front of the house. The throw rug had been vacuumed down to the backing. The sofa was covered in plastic, as was the only chair. He figured they could do emergency surgery on the dining table he saw to the left.

“You keep a very tidy house,” he said as he settled on the plastic-covered sofa. “Your husband must be very proud.”

“Andy likes things clean,” Kim said as she brushed at the plastic on the chair, before perching on the edge. “I like to make him happy.”

Her expression was so earnest, so eager to please. Mac wanted to grab her and forcibly take her with him. Did she know what was going to happen when her neat-freak husband found out how messy a baby could be? Had she considered the hell she was getting into?

He studied her face, searching for clues. They were there—a tiny scar by her right temple, a barely noticeable drooping at the corner of her left eye. The cast, of course. He would bet there were others—that her body would be both a road map and a testament to her husband’s temper.

On the way over, Mac had tried to think of the best way to talk to Kim. Now, in face of her youth, her pain and her pregnancy, he went for the truth.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low and as nonthreatening as he could make it. “At first he just slapped you around some. But now it’s worse. Your eye, the scars on your legs, the bro ken arm.”

Her breath caught. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you love him,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “Of course you do. He’s your husband. And he’s always sorry and you know in your heart that if you could just stop making mistakes, everything would be great between you. Because he used to be so sweet. Right? Back when you first started going out, wasn’t he the best?”

Her mouth curved up and she nodded. “He was wonderful.”

“But not anymore. And here’s the thing, Kim. He’s not going to be happy with the baby. Babies don’t stay quiet. They don’t keep to schedules and they don’t clean up after themselves. Andy is going to be very, very angry. And when he puts you in the hospital, who is going to take care of your child?”

Her eyes widened. “He’s not like that.”

“We both know he is. This situation is escalating. After he puts you in the hospital a few times, he’s going to turn on your child. Then he’ll be beating the two of you and eventually someone is going to wind up dead.”

He stared at her, willing her to believe him. “We can stop this right now. I can arrest him and hold him in jail long enough for you to get away. There are places you can go where he’ll never find you. Never. Do you understand?”

A single tear leaked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. “You have to go,” she said, not looking at him. “You have to go, because sometimes Andy comes home for lunch and if he found you here…”

There would be hell to pay, Mac thought. More than hell.

“Kim, please.”

She stood and walked to the door. “Just go.”

Mac did as she requested. Feeling useless and angry and as if he’d only made things worse, he walked to his car and watched her carefully close the door.

JILL RETURNED to her office and was surprised to find Tina working at her desk. She resisted the urge to snap and instead nodded as she stalked past.

“You have a one o’clock,” Tina called. “He should be here any second.”

Perfect, Jill thought, wondering how she was going to keep her temper in check. She still didn’t understand what had happened with Mac. Okay, she could see how he might have misunderstood her conversation with Rudy, but why wouldn’t he let her explain? And how dare he insult what she did for a living? That was hitting below the belt.

She still wanted to slap something. Or throw something. The fish offered a tempting target but, before she could figure out who would fly across the room best, she heard the front door open and a man speaking to Tina.

Later, she promised herself as she sat behind her desk and drew in several calming breaths. She had a second to glance down at the note by the appointment—“wants to sue neighbor for theft”—then Tina showed the man in.

He was tall, beefy, late forties, with the permanent tan of someone who makes his living outdoors.

“Mr. Wolcott,” she said. “This is Jill Strathern.”

Jill rose and held out her hand. “Mr. Wolcott. A plea sure.”

“Call me Bob,” he told her, and smiled. When he’d taken his seat, he glanced around. “Great office.”

“Um, do you fish?”

“Sure. Not like this though. What a beaut.”

He pointed to a particularly large, ugly fish of indeterminate origin. As Jill didn’t want to hear about the wonders of catching so many prize specimens, she pulled out a pad of legal paper and picked up a pen.

“I understand you’re having a problem with a neigh bor.”

“What? Oh, yeah. That bitch. She lives down the street from me and has always wanted my dog. You know,” he raised his voice to a falsetto. “If Bucky ever has puppies I really want one.” Mr. Wolcott grimaced. “The dog’s name is Buck. Who the hell calls a dog Bucky?”

Jill told herself to remain calm. This wasn’t as it seemed. Bob was having trouble coming to the point. There was no way he’d come to see her about his dog.

“Your neighbor down the street?”

“Sissy Dawson. What the hell kind of name is Sissy? Probably why she can’t keep my dog’s name straight. She’s a real bitch.”

“So you mentioned.”

He placed both of his massive hands on the desk. “She kidnapped Buck.”

Now they were getting somewhere…or not. “Your dog?”

“Hell, yes. Damn bitch held him for three days. When he came home, he was real whipped if you get my drift.”

Jill did not. Was there a drift? Could she please be on it and out of this town?

“Bob, I’m not following you. Your concern is that your neighbor kidnapped your dog for three days, then returned him?”

“Right.”

“What exactly do you want to sue her for? Kidnapping?”

He brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that. Sure. Kidnapping, but mostly theft.”

Jill had a bad feeling she didn’t want to know, but she had to ask. “Theft of what?”

“Buck’s sperm. She was always after me to have him mate with her damn dog and I refused. So when her dog went into heat, she kidnapped him and locked those two together for three damn days. She could have killed him.”

Twenty minutes later Jill showed Bob to the door after promising to research the problem. On her way back to her desk, she glanced up at the giant swordfish and wondered if there was any way to throw herself on the pointy part.

This couldn’t be happening. Not any of it. Life hadn’t gotten that unfair, had it? She had horrible law cases, was unable to help the one battered, pregnant person who really needed her, had a crummy ex-husband and furious ex-lover and assistant/secretary/receptionist who still hated her. If she didn’t know she would regret it later, she would pick up the phone and call Rudy to ask him to take care of the lying rat fink weasel dog that was Lyle.

Just then the phone rang. Tina, of course, had left for the day. Jill grabbed the call herself.

“Jill Strathern,” she said.

“Oh, hi, Jill. I’m Marsha Rawlings,” the woman said, then rattled off the name of her San Diego law firm. “Honestly, I can’t believe your résumé. Please, please tell me you haven’t already accepted another position.”

“I haven’t.”

“Wonderful. We would love to talk to you as soon as possible. I see there’s a private airfield just outside of Los Lobos. How about if we send the company plane to get you first thing in the morning? Would that work for you?”

Jill looked at the fish, the empty reception area and her notes on the dog-sperm theft case.

“It would work perfectly. What time?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

JILL LEFT HER OFFICE a little after three. Tina had barely put in any time and Jill wasn’t in the mood to deal with more clients. While she figured the odds of someone coming by with a case more amazing than dog-sperm theft were slim, she didn’t want to tempt fate more than necessary.

As she rounded the corner to her street, she saw Mac’s truck parked in front of his house. The sight of the familiar pickup made her uncomfortable. She still didn’t know what had happened between them. He couldn’t possibility believe that she’d told secrets to Rudy. Or that she would ever betray Mac.

But telling herself that his temper wasn’t her problem didn’t seem to be working. She wanted to talk to him and make things right, and even reminding herself she was excited about her interview in the morning didn’t make her feel any better.

She walked up the front steps and entered her aunt’s house.

“It’s just me,” she called, knowing that if Mac were home then Emily would be with him.

“Jill? You’re early,” Bev yelled from upstairs. “I was lying down. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Okay.”