’LL GET IT, ignored her and got to the door first. Mitchell was an hour late, and when Kate saw Detective MacNeil and Gray Elliott standing in the doorway, she panicked. “Oh, my God, what’s happened?” she cried.

“Evan Bartlett is in the hospital with a broken jaw and several cracked ribs,” Gray said, peering around her and into the apartment. “May we come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Kate said.

“Where’s Wyatt, Kate?”

Kate knew as he asked the question what he was getting at, and her mind went into overdrive, thinking of ways to protect Mitchell. “Is Evan saying Mitchell did it?” she asked, trying to sound scornful.

“Evan didn’t see who assaulted him. His assailant was waiting for him in the parking lot at Gleneagles Country Club when he finished playing tennis tonight.”

“Evan works out at a gym; he can protect himself,” Kate said, stalling for time, trying to think of an alibi for Mitchell when the inevitable question was asked.

“Where is Wyatt?” Gray repeated more firmly.

“I don’t understand why you’re looking for Mitchell. Um, did you find any evidence that it was him?”

“The assailant was wearing thin rubber gloves—like the kind your kitchen staff uses.”

“Oh, well, then there’s your proof it wasn’t Mitchell. He’s never been in our kitchen.”

“A busboy said he stopped in there at about six o’clock tonight and asked for a glass of water.”

Unable to think clearly—or to be more accurate, deviously —with Gray’s eyes boring holes through her, Kate said, “Would you excuse me for just a minute? This is very upsetting.”

Turning on her heel, she headed for the bedroom hallway, and to her alarm, she heard Gray’s footsteps on the carpet, following her far enough to note where she was going. Inside her bedroom, Kate leaned against the closed door, trying to think of a believable alibi.

An idea hit her and she raced over to her bed and dragged the covers loose; she pulled a corner of the mattress off the box spring so it was angled to the floor. She studied the effect, then hurried to the wall behind the headboard to tilt the two paintings hanging there. She carefully overturned the lamp on the nightstand so that the shade was hanging over the edge. Finished, she raced into the adjoining bathroom, soaked a washcloth in water, and sauntered back into the living room, dabbing at her face. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I just can’t handle any more violence. I got ill. Anyway, it couldn’t have been Mitchell because he was here with me until a few minutes ago.”

“Where is he now?”

“He... went to get my dog and my two cats. We’re staying here until you capture Billy Wyatt.”

“We took him into custody this afternoon.”

Kate widened her eyes. “Oh. Really?”

“Really,” Gray said drily. “Would you mind if Detective MacNeil had a look inside the rooms down that hallway?”

“Not at all,” Kate replied, dabbing at her face in earnest and trailing nervously behind MacNeil. “Don’t wake up Danny,” she warned. “He’s in the bedroom on the right.”

Intensely serious about his job as Danny’s bodyguard, Calli followed right behind MacNeil, scowling at him from the doorway as the detective quietly explored Danny’s closet and bathroom.

“What’s this room?” MacNeil said.

“My bedroom.”

“May I?” he asked, his hand on the doorknob.

Kate started to say “Of course!” Then she changed her mind and said, “I really wish you wouldn’t.” She waited until MacNeil gave her an I-can-get-a-search-warrant look before she said in feigned embarrassment, “Oh, go ahead, Detective.”

MacNeil opened the door, flipped on the lights, and froze. Calli crowded next to him to see what he was looking at and gave a bark of laughter, which enabled Kate to blush furiously and in earnest when they rejoined Gray in the living room.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking from Kate to MacNeil to Calli, who wasn’t even trying to control his grin. Twisting the washcloth in her hands, Kate said, “Mitchell and I—we, um—spent this evening in bed.”

“This doesn’t have to turn into a big deal,” Gray said. “When Mitchell gets back, have him call us.”

“And what will you do with him then?” Kate said, her voice tinged with suspicion, fear, and anger—and a little surprised that he’d referred to Mitchell by his first name.

“We’ll have a look at his knuckles. If they aren’t bruised or swollen, we’ll know he’s not the assailant.”

“Oh, good. That’s easy.”

“Yes, but it’s also evidence that can’t be hidden or disguised.”

“Why are you involved in such a little matter, Gray?” she demanded.

He squeezed her arm. “I’ve started to think of myself as a family friend,” he said, and turned to leave with MacNeil on his heels.

“I’ll have Mitchell call you the minute he gets back,” Kate promised as they left. “He may stop on his way here to pick up some dog food.”

On the other side of the apartment door, MacNeil and Elliott descended the stairs. “What’s the story with the bedroom?” Gray asked.

Biting back a grin, MacNeil said, “From the looks of that bedroom, there’s no way Wyatt would have had the strength left to assault Bartlett.”

“If I thought I could get away with burying this little episode, I’d do it,” Gray said. “In fact, if I thought I could get away with beating the shit out of Bartlett, I might have tried it myself. Unfortunately, among other things, he’s a lawyer, and even with his jaw wired shut, he’s screaming for Wyatt’s blood.”

“What do you want to do next?”

“We have to keep looking for Wyatt and document our efforts,” Gray replied with a sigh. “If I don’t, Bartlett will turn this into a media event that makes all of us look bad. But we don’t have to be overly diligent. Bartlett isn’t a capital murder case. Wyatt flew here on a commercial airline because his own plane was grounded for maintenance. We’ve notified O’Hare to detain him if he tries to go through security there. That’s due diligence on our part, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not going to put up roadblocks because Bartlett is unhappy and uncomfortable.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant, Childress was waiting. Gray paused and looked up at the sky. “Beautiful night,” he said. “Too bad I have to go back to the office.”

“Wyatt is going to turn up,” Childress predicted, ever vigilant.

“Call me if you hear or see anything,” Gray said to both of them, and left with a brief wave.

KATE STRUGGLED WITH her heavy mattress, trying to shove it back into place, but her mind was on Mitchell, and she was worried. She was worried for him, and worried for herself, too, because she’d gotten in too deeply and much too fast. He was like a narcotic, and she couldn’t function when he was around. In real time, she’d spent only five days with him on two occasions in three years, and on both occasions, her life seemed to self-destruct the moment he walked into it. Tonight, she’d surely committed some sort of crime by lying to the police for him.

In the kitchen, Calli listened to the instructions he was being given. When he hung up, he took several large plastic trash bags into Danny’s room and began quietly filling them with clothing and toys. Finished, he stepped into the hallway, made certain that Kate was still in her bedroom, and then carried the trash bags down the stairs and out the back entrance into the alley behind the restaurant. He left them there, walked around the side of the building to the front entrance, and told one of the valet attendants to bring the rental car, which was being delivered momentarily, around to the alley entrance as soon as it arrived and to call him on his cell phone to let him know.

By ten o’clock, Kate was literally wringing her hands over Mitchell’s plight. She couldn’t think of any reason for Mitchell to have disappeared without a phone call unless hewas Evan’s assailant. Or—and this was a possibility—Mitchell made a habit of dropping out of women’s lives when things got too complicated or feelings got involved.

“Mitchell wants to say good-bye to you and Danny. He’s at the airport, and he has to leave on an urgent business trip. I’m supposed to bring you out there.”

Kate whirled around in shock at the sound of Calli speaking English with only a trace of a charming Italian accent, but her mind was focused on the painful realization that Mitchell was leaving. In the long run, she told herself firmly, it would be easier on her emotionally if he went away and stayed away. Trying to have a relationship with him was clearly impossible. At least this time, he was saying an official good-bye for Danny’s sake.

Keeping that firmly in mind, she looked at Calli and said in an offhand voice, “Are you going with him?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll miss you,” she said. “I’ll wake Danny up.”

“The car is in the back,” Calli said, already heading for the door with his suitcase in hand. “There were a couple of reporters hanging around out front,” he lied.

HIS ATTENTION FOCUSED on the document he was reading, Gray Elliott reached out and picked up his telephone. MacNeil’s voice was tinged with carefully concealed frustration. “While I was grabbing a cup of coffee a minute ago, Childress got an idea and phoned LaGuardia.”

“And?” Gray said irritably.

“It seems that Wyatt’s plane took off an hour ago, and the flight plan the pilots filed was for Indianapolis. A few minutes ago they changed it to Midway.”

“Shit. Leave it to Childress.”

“Yeah, he has great instincts,” MacNeil said carefully. “We’re on our way out to Midway now.”

Gray leaned back in his chair, contemplating the allegation that Bartlett had caused Danny Donovan’s kidnapping and possible death at the hands of a deranged Billy Wyatt. He’d also managed to make it public knowledge that Kate was an unwed mother with a child fathered by one of the Chicago Wyatts. Now he wanted to see Mitchell Wyatt put on trial. Lurching forward, Gray made up his mind and said, “I think I’ll take care of this on my own. Tell Childress I said good work.”

“Sure,” MacNeil said. “I’ll tell Childress that. He’s got a sinus headache, and he won’t mind keeping an eye on the restaurant while we meet Wyatt’s plane at Midway. It’s not a good idea for you to try to handle it yourself without a detective along. Sticking with procedure is important when the victim’s a lawyer.”

“Thanks, Mac,” Gray said, touched.

“I’ll pick you up. We’re just a few blocks from you. I guess we’ll have to take your car.”

“WHY DID YOU pretend you don’t speak English, Calli?” Kate asked when she couldn’t think of anything else to distract her from the impending good-bye to Mitchell. Danny was fast asleep, his head on her lap, and her fingers kept automatically searching for his curls whenever she laid her hand on his head.

“Mitchell wasn’t sure you were going to keep him in the loop while Danny was missing, and people talk openly in front of someone who doesn’t speak their language.”

They were at Midway, driving past hangars with private planes that dotted the tarmac. Calli flipped on the turn indicator and swung the car through open gates, then turned again and headed toward a large, brightly lit hangar. In front of it a sleek jet with swept-back wings and 1 2T F printed in large black letters on the tail was waiting on the tarmac, its boarding steps down and its interior lights on. “I’ll carry Danny,” Calli volunteered, reaching into the backseat and scooping the sleeping boy up as if he were weightless.

Partway up the steps, something blocked the light spilling out from the doorway, and Kate lifted her head. Mitchell was standing there, his tall broad-shouldered frame filling the opening. This is good-bye, she thought, and the knowledge was suddenly so excruciating that she swore then and there to never, ever let herself be in this position again. He stepped forward and held out his hand to her. Kate took it and even managed a smile as she walked into the plane’s luxurious interior. “For some reason,” she said, “I never imagined you in an Art Deco setting.”

“What sort of setting did you imagine me in?” Mitchell asked, taking Danny from Calli’s arms and carrying him inside, leaving Calli to unload the bags he’d been able to sneak out of Kate’s apartment.

Kate forgot the question as she watched Mitchell carefully lay his sleeping son in the middle of a big, gray leather sofa and tenderly place his big hand on Danny’s cheek. His big hand... with light bruises on the knuckles. Kate’s instantaneous response was a mixture of fascinated horror at the proof she was seeing that Mitchell could be capable of physical violence, and a sense of profound satisfaction that someone had finally had the courage to partially repay Evan for the unconscionable things he had done without a trace of compassion or remorse. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice Mitchell fastening a seat belt over Danny’s prone body.

“Is this an important trip?” she asked Mitchell as he helped her off with her suede jacket.

“Very,” he said in a tone so solemn that Kate studied him closely.

“Will you be gone long?”

“That depends.”

“On how long those bruises take to heal?”

He grinned, then shook his head and said, “No.”

Struggling against a wave of early bereavement, Kate glanced around the plane’s interior. “It’s like a beautiful living room.”

Calli said something in Italian, and Mitchell leaned down, looked out the plane’s window, and picked up a telephone, speaking in some foreign language. Kate assumed he was instructing the pilots since the phone had no dial or buttons for making an outside call.

A moment later, she heard a loud sound from the rear of the plane, then Calli came walking forward, smiling. He continued past her and settled onto a big leather swivel recliner close to the cockpit.

“Well,” Kate said, lifting her eyes to Mitchell’s smiling blue gaze, “I guess this is good-bye. I thought we’d have more time. Let’s wake Danny up so he can say good-bye and see your plane before we go.”

A funny smile twisted Mitchell’s lips, and Kate leaned up impulsively and kissed him, blinking back tears when his arms slid around her. The plane lurched subtly, and she glanced out the window and realized that it was starting to move. “Grab Danny,” she said quickly. “We’re starting to move. We have to get off—”

“This isn’t a bus, Kate.”

“I know that, but we have to—” She clutched the back of the chair, narrowing her eyes when Mitchell sat down on the sofa and attempted to draw her down onto the chair beside him. Just beyond the window, a car with a revolving light on the dashboard was racing down the road toward the gate near their hangar. “Mitchell, what is this? What are you doing?”

The plane’s engines revved up to a whine, then it began to pick up speed, and over the intercom system the copilot’s voice provided an answer to her question: “Midway Ground, this is Gulfstream One Two Tango Fox requesting expeditious taxi if possible. We will be ready at the runway.”

“Roger, One Two Tango Fox,” an answering voice said over the intercom. “Taxi via Kilo Yankee to runway thirty-one center.”

Kate’s heart soared along with the plane’s increasing speed, and she sat down quickly, fastening her seat belt. She had no idea where she was going or why she was going there, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Mitchell wanted Danny and her with him, which meant he’d told her the truth last night about how he felt.

The other thing that mattered was that an unmarked police car appeared to be after them! Kate unconsciously held her breath, watching the car through the plane’s window while the plane made a sharp left turn and gained speed, taxiing toward the runways ahead.

Finally the police car slowed, dropped back, and stopped, its light still revolving. Over the intercom, a voice said, “Gulfstream One Two Tango Fox, this is Midway Tower. You are cleared for immediate takeoff, runway thirty-one center.

“Midway Tower,” the copilot replied, “Gulfstream One Two Tango Fox rolling—runway thirty-one center.” As he spoke, the engines revved higher and the plane raced forward with a surge of power.

Idly stroking Danny’s back, Mitchell studied Kate’s profile, noting that she was not protesting being hijacked, but neither was she looking at him. Her head was bent and her high cheekbones were tinted with pink. She was a little embarrassed for letting him get away with this without at least putting up a token objection, he realized with an inner smile.

He remembered a flight he’d made from St. Maarten to Chicago when he’d thought she was lost to him. “Kate—” he said with a smile in his voice.

She looked at him and shook her head in disbelief at his high-handedness.

“I’m in love with you.”

She swallowed and looked down and unfastened her seat belt because he was unfastening his and standing up. She knew from the look in his eyes that there was a bed on the plane.

ON THE ROAD below, near the hangar, Gray and MacNeil stood outside the car, leaning against it, watching the Gulfstream roar down the runway with its landing lights on, then lift off gracefully and begin to climb. The landing lights went off, the landing gear retracted, and the plane began to fade into the night sky.

Gray smiled and said thoughtfully, “That is a man with style.”

MacNeil glanced sideways and said quietly, “So are you.”