The Perfect Liar (Last Stand 5)

He cracked open the door as quietly as possible. He could see the kitchen and most of the living room. They were both empty. So where was she?

Another apartment door opened down the hall. Not wanting to be hailed by someone he knew, Luke quickly stepped inside and closed his own door.

A cup sat on the kitchen table, along with a letter--his letter from Phil.

The sight of it spread out like that, as if Kalyna had been reading it, made him even angrier. Entering his apartment without permission was an intrusion, but reading his private correspondence was worse. What'd happened between him and Phil was so private. Even his parents didn't really understand the extent of what he'd felt for Marissa.

Gritting his teeth, he headed to the bedroom. In the hall, where the TV wasn't quite as loud, he could hear water running. No way could she be taking a shower, he thought--but the sound grew more distinct as he moved closer.

Although it, too, showed signs of habitation, his bedroom was as empty as the living room and kitchen. His bed was rumpled as if she'd slept in it, a pair of his underwear lay near the pil ow and his dresser drawer had been left hanging open.

Luke shook his head in disbelief. Kalyna hadn't even bothered to close it after snooping through his things. But at least that made one detail very clear. She didn't have his other gun in the bathroom with her. He could see the black metal of the barrel in the drawer, along with the box of bullets.

So what now? Did she have her own gun? Or was she unarmed?

The bathroom door stood ajar. Edging over to it, he peeked around the corner, his hand gripping the handle of the gun he'd stuffed into his pants, just in case. But there was no need to draw on her. He could see no weapons in the bathroom, and her naked form was partially visible through the misted glass.

Stepping into view, he said, "What the hell are you doing in my shower?"

She yelped, obviously startled, then slid the door open to poke her head out. She didn't cover up but the sight of her did nothing for him.

"There you are!" she said in a relieved voice. "I wondered when you'd get home. Your mother called while you were gone. She wants you to call her at the school."

Kalyna knew his mother worked at a school? What other details had she learned? His mother had said she'd asked about Jenny..."Get out," he said.

She hesitated as if the coldness in his voice surprised her. "Right now? Don't be sil y. I've got soap in my hair."

"Rinse it and then get out. I want you to pick up your things and leave my apartment. And I don't want you to ever come back."

Her bottom lip protruded in an exaggerated pout. "Is that any way to treat the mother of your baby?"

"Being pregnant with my child-- if that's the truth--doesn't give you the right to break into my apartment and go through my belongings."

Her gaze lowered to the gun in his belt. "What? Are you planning to shoot me?"

"If I hand you my other gun, wil you fire at me first?" he asked.

Her eyebrows drew together. "That's not very nice, Luke."

"You can't blame me for hoping."

"Someone's grumpy. What's the matter, did Ava kick you out of bed?"

Actually, she had--more or less. And it stil stung. But he wasn't going to give Kalyna any indication that she'd guessed right. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"What?"

"This! Coming into my house! Sleeping in my bed!"

"It's not like I broke in. The door was open--"

"It was locked."

"No, it wasn't. I swear. Look around for yourself. There's no other way I could've gotten in."

Because he lived in a second-story apartment, he couldn't imagine that she'd come through a window. But he'd locked the door. He remembered doing it.

"When you didn't answer, I tried the door," she went on. "I got here so late I was sure you'd be here. I figured you were sleeping. But you weren't, so I waited. I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of it. I had a very long drive yesterday, and it was emotionally draining. I don't expect you to have any sympathy for me, but there's been a death in my family. A murder. Someone kil ed my mother yesterday, and I think it's someone I used to know. So forgive me if I didn't feel up to going once I arrived."

Leaving his gun in his waistband, he clenched his fists helplessly.

"Why'd you come here in the first place?"

"You asked me to. You wanted proof of the baby, remember?"

"And you have it?"

"Yes!"

Hell. The thought of having a child with her made him almost as nauseous as the way she was lathering her body with soap and rubbing her br**sts.

"For God's sake, just finish showering," he snapped. "We'l talk when you get out."

Slamming the bathroom door, he stomped into his bedroom and removed the gun he kept in his drawer, as well as the bullets. Then he went to wait for her in the kitchen, where he could pour himself some coffee--and talk himself out of putting a bullet through his brain to avoid becoming a parent with someone who needed an exorcist.

The police arrived while Kalyna was stil in the bathroom. She could hear Luke talking to them, assuring them he had the situation in hand. Had he called them? Probably. But he'd sent them away, too, so it didn't matter.

At least he was wil ing to hear what she had to say. At least he wasn't going to have her thrown out of his apartment before she could show him the results of her pregnancy test.

Taking extra care, she added mascara to her eyelashes. She wanted to look good, better than she ever had in her life. Everything she wanted rested on the conversation to come.

He waited for ten minutes or so, but then he threw the bedroom door against the wall. "What's taking you so long?"

Finally. She bent toward the mirror, causing the T-shirt she was wearing to ride up and give him a glimpse of her ass. "As you can see, I'm not dressed."

With a growl of impatience, he returned to the kitchen, which wasn't the reaction she'd been hoping for. But she stil had the document from the clinic.

"Come on!" he yelled back to her.

She threw on her jeans without underwear. Her panties were somewhere in Luke's bed. She could probably find them, but since her ploy to entice him back into the bedroom hadn't worked, she didn't want to take the time to look.

When she entered the kitchen, she saw him standing at the sink with a cup of coffee, scowling out at the parking lot.

"Would you like me to make you some breakfast?" She'd offered as sweetly as possible, but his glower only darkened.

"No. I want to see the proof you claim to have."