Trust No One by Diana Layne Page B

the state don’t know don’t hurt ’em. Besides, I’ve been keeping kids longer than that rule’s been in existence.”
    “I like your attitude,” MJ said. “Angel’s already asleep, but I need to leave right away.”
    “Bundle her in her p.j.’s and come on over.”
    “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. I’ll wait to talk to Tex when I get there.”
    MJ grabbed the two go-bags she kept packed in the closet. Old habits died hard. Before she took the bags down to her car, she checked on Ben. His trip to dreamland kept him oblivious to the effect his naked chest was having on her. Just as well. She was trying to ignore the effect herself. She reasoned it was the stark contrast of the white bandage to his dark skin that made him look especially appealing.
    He was so still and silent, she thought she should take his pulse. To make sure he was still alive, of course. She in no way just wanted an excuse to touch him. He didn’t move as she took his wrist.
    Beneath her fingers, his arm roughened with hair felt relaxed, warm, and promised strength even in sleep. It had been so long since she’d touched a man in anything but a most casual handshake at work. With car grease around her fingernails, no one wanted to hold her hand long no matter the miracle she performed on their car. And that was fine by her.
    She didn’t mind the isolation. She told herself hundreds of times she was happier that way.
    Still. As foreign as Ben’s wrist felt in her hand, something appealed to her, triggering a deeply buried, purposely forgotten longing for a companion, a partner in life. A lover.
    The last thought shook her from her reverie.
    She needed no man. Wanted no man. Could trust no man . . . aside from possibly Niko, who had been more than a friend to her over the years.
    Almost throwing Ben’s arm down, she caught herself, laid it gently in his lap, not wanting to risk waking him.
    She grabbed the bags, intending on taking them down first, and then coming back for Angelina. She didn’t want to manipulate both bags and baby.
    As she opened the door, she heard Jenkins on the floor below, talking to old Mrs. Crandall whose words floated up the stairway. “You know, I do think I heard a gunshot,” MJ heard her say. The woman was not only old but deaf. And certainly couldn’t hear a gunshot when there wasn’t more than a thump of the silencer, which MJ hadn’t even heard the first time. The elderly woman was probably excited to have a little drama in her life.
    MJ walked quietly out the door, locked it behind her and hurried down the back stairs. If she were lucky, she’d be gone before he got up to her apartment. If not, nothing she couldn’t handle. Just given their history, she’d rather avoid Officer Jenkins.
    She had no idea he was so ambitious anyway. Taking the initiative to investigate . . . what? What had that man told Jenkins? That he saw a windshield shatter? Definitely not enough for the local cop boy to do.
    She hurried to the parking garage, did a quick scan for Ben’s truck. It took her a moment to locate it over in a corner. He’d parked it facing the wall so it wasn’t immediately evident the windshield was broken. Unfortunately the flat tire was obvious. Still, flats were common enough and shouldn’t alert anyone right away.
    Back in her apartment, MJ taped a spare apartment key, and a note to the door, warning Ben about the snoopy policeman.
    Gathering up Angel’s warm cuddly weight in her arms, MJ paused for one last look at the peacefully sleeping Ben. Long lashes shadowed his dark cheeks. His swarthy dark skin made her wonder if his ancestry was such a hodge-podge. The combination of dark eyes, dark skin, dark lashes, all made a damned appealing package, probably irresistible to many women.
    But not to her.
    “Good bye Sleeping Beauty,” she murmured and closed the door. As she locked it, she heard footsteps on the front stairs. If she hurried to the back stairs–
    Too late. Officer Jenkins saw