Cops And...Lovers? (20 page)

"You didn't even consider the possibility, did you, McNeal?"

Erin
felt the words like the blade of a knife slicing her clean through. "I wouldn't endanger her. Where is she?"

"I sent her out of town with Hector. She's safe."

Relief untwisted one of the dozen or so knots in
Erin
's gut. "I'm not going to let
DiCarlo
get away with any of this. I'm going to stop him."

Nick glared down at her, breathing hard, his face suffused with anger. "How are you going to do that? Wait until he comes knocking, then go after him with guns blazing, grenades exploding? Take him out with a little hand-to-hand? Or maybe you're going to put that black belt of yours to use and break his neck."

The burst of anger came so powerfully, so quickly, that for a moment
Erin
saw red. She bucked beneath him, trying to topple him, but he was too heavy, and her struggles were futile. "I'll take him out however I see fit."

Nick leaned closer. "I'm not going to let you do it."

"Why do you care?" she retorted.

"Call me a damn fool, but I don't want to see you hurt."

"You don't care about me," she snapped.

"That's where you're wrong," he growled. "It goes against everything I know about you, but I care. A lot more than I should, considering you have the common sense of a terrier pup
who
just had its bone stolen by a pit bull. I care a hell of a lot more than I want to. More than you want me to, in fact. But, dammit, I do. So don't think I'm going to let you walk into a dangerous situation alone, because it's not going to happen."

* * *

Nick couldn't believe he'd said those killing words. Not to
Erin
. But the moment he'd walked into her apartment and seen her in sweatpants and T-shirt, punching that bag, all bets were off. He hadn't even bothered to pretend he was still in control. Why should he? He hadn't been in control since the day she'd walked into his office and waylaid him with that big-city cop attitude and those pretty green eyes.

Now, as he stared down at her, his temper tangled with emotions he didn't want to deal with, and physical sensations more powerful than anything he'd ever known. Even knowing she was wrong for him—knowing fully she had no intention of changing her ways—he still wanted her. Wanted her so desperately he felt the need all the way to his marrow.

"You don't have the guts to care for me," she said.

She'd tried to make the words sound cavalier, but Nick knew his admission had surprised her. Hell, he'd surprised himself. This wasn't supposed to happen. They both knew it. So why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut?

"You're not making it easy," he growled. "I ought to walk away right now and let
DiCarlo
have you."

Erin
snorted. "Like I need you to protect me."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're
the
Erin McNeal. You can take on
DiCarlo
all by yourself. Just because most of his victims end up fitting in a coffee can after he's finished with them doesn't mean that would happen to you. Not Erin McNeal, female cop extraordinaire."

"Go to hell."

She tried to get up, but he kept her pinned. He wanted to shake her, anything to make her understand the danger she faced when it came to
DiCarlo
. "He wants you dead, McNeal. You shot his son. Maybe even killed him. What do you think he's going to do if he gets his hands on you?"

"He's not going to get his hands on me."

She'd spoken the words with conviction, but Nick didn't miss the shiver that rippled the length of her. He felt a swell of relief that she was finally beginning to understand the gravity of her situation.

"I'm taking you to a motel." Gritting his teeth against the ache that had taken up permanent residence in his groin, he hoisted himself off her and stood.

Propping herself on an elbow, she glared up at him. "I'll agree to go with you on one condition."

"Like you have a choice." He extended his hand, trying not to notice the way that T-shirt hugged her curves. "I'm not bargaining with you, McNeal."

"I'm not going to sit around and wait for
DiCarlo
to make his move."

If she hadn't been dead serious, he might have laughed. As it was, the determination in her voice put a brick of dread in the pit of his stomach. "You've got five minutes to pack a bag," he said. "If you're not ready to leave by then, I'll handcuff you and force you to come with me."

"You wouldn't dare."

"You know I will."

She reached for his hand, and he pulled her easily to her feet. "I want
DiCarlo
," she said.

"Evidently, the feelings are mutual."

"This is the perfect opportunity—"

"Pack, McNeal."

"Dammit, Nick, I owe it to Danny."

"Loyalty is an admirable trait, but it won't do you any good if you're dead." He looked at his watch. "You have four and a half minutes to pack a bag."

"If
DiCarlo
is so intent on finding me, why hasn't he made a move until now? It's been six months since the shooting."

"Frank said he's been in
Sicily
. As far as he knows, he was there burying his son."

"If, indeed,
DiCarlo
is behind this, his attempts to get at me were halfhearted at best. That's not his style."

"Maybe he wants you alive. He's not above a personal visit when it comes to revenge, especially when he gets to be the grim reaper."

Muttering an unladylike oath,
Erin
turned away and stalked to the opposite side of the room. Nick watched, steeling himself against the fierce need to protect her, and another need that demanded distance and objectivity.

"All right," she snapped. "I'll go with you. But only until we can come up with a plan. I'm not going to sit it out."

He considered telling her she could discuss that with the two U.S. Marshals who would be meeting her in a few hours to take her to a safe house, but decided she'd be easier to handle if she didn't know she was about to be pulled from the race.

"Okay, McNeal. You've made your point. Pack. You've got two minutes left."

As Nick watched her stalk toward her bedroom, he realized all he had to do now was figure out a way to keep his hands off her for the next few hours.

Chapter 12

«
^
»

N
ick knew taking
Erin
to the Pioneer Motel wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. But mistakes seemed to be his specialty when it came to her. Considering the electric attraction that arced between them every time they were within earshot of each other, he was probably setting himself up for a night of frustration at best. But what else could he do? Walk away when it was now clear that someone was trying to hurt her? Nick had never been good at walking away—even when it was the smart thing to do. For the life of him he couldn't think of a safer place for her. He couldn't let her stay at her apartment. He couldn't take her to his house. So he'd opted for the Pioneer Motel—and a long, long night.

Located off the highway on the outskirts of town, the motel offered obscurity and the kind of anonymity that would buy them safety until the
U.S.
Marshals arrived. All he had to do was get through the next few hours without touching her. That shouldn't have been a problem, considering she was frothing at the mouth to get at
DiCarlo
.

"Nice place," she grumbled, tossing her overnight bag onto one of the double beds.

He locked the door behind them and flipped the dead bolt into place. "Welcome to
Logan
Falls
's version of a five-star hotel."

Without looking at her, he inched a curtain aside and peered into the parking lot. Dusk had settled, but the sodium vapor lights hadn't yet come on. The parking lot was empty, except for a rumbling semi rig and an old station wagon. He should have been relieved there wasn't a Lincoln Continental with
Illinois
plates idling within plain sight. But he had been a cop long enough to know
DiCarlo
wouldn't be subtle when he decided to make his move.

Nick's unease had grown steadily stronger since he'd spoken to Frank just over an hour ago. Every time Nick thought of
DiCarlo
, and the man's reputation for violence, the hairs at his nape prickled. Every time he thought of
DiCarlo
getting his hands on
Erin
, that same uneasiness burgeoned into a cold fear that sat in his gut like a chunk of ice.

She was one of the most maddening, persistent people he'd ever met. How was it that the same woman who'd brought so much light and happiness into his daughter's life had brought so much tumult to his? She was impulsive. Headstrong. Courageous. Fallible. And more vulnerable than she would ever admit. How could he let himself care for a woman who planned to single-handedly bring down
Chicago
's most ruthless
mafioso
?

But, Lord, he didn't think he could stay away from her much longer. She appealed to him on a level that made him feel a little crazy—and in way over his head. Since the day she'd walked into his office and given him that cool once-over with those feline green eyes, Nick had been tied up in little knots. How was he supposed to deal with her when every time he looked at her all he could think of was how right it felt when he held her in his arms?

"Look at this."

Turning away from the window, he glanced at her and felt his mouth go dry. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop opened in front of her. She'd changed into faded jeans and an old T-shirt before leaving her apartment, and the clothes clung to her in all the wrong places. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail, revealing her slender neck and delicate jawline. He had the insane urge to go to her and run his tongue along her throat just to see if she tasted as good as she looked.

Gritting his teeth against the annoying rush of blood to his groin, Nick approached the bed. "What do you have here, McNeal, access to the Illinois Crime Lab Database?"

"Better." She shot him a superior smile. "A database still under development. It tracks the movement of known criminals, namely Mafia types. The big, mean dogs."

"Your favorite kind," he said dryly. "I'm not even going to ask how you got into that databank."

"You probably shouldn't." Her fingers danced over the keys. "Knowing you, you'd probably want to arrest me."

Scowling, Nick glanced down at the screen, where Vic
DiCarlo's
name blinked. "Our boy's been busy."

"A subsidiary of one of his corporations owns a Learjet. Modified fuel tanks for long hauls." She tapped a key, and the screen scrolled down. "A day after the warehouse shooting, his personal pilot filed a flight plan from
New York
to
London
. From there they flew to
Sicily
."

"Interesting destination."

"Family reunion, no doubt."

"Or a funeral."

Erin
's finger quivered slightly when she hit another key. "Interesting perspective, Chief. But
Sicily
would also be a good place to rehab if you'd been shot."

"Just what do you plan to do with this information?" he asked.

"Use it to get
DiCarlo
off my back."

"What are you going to do, hit him over the head with your laptop?"

She looked up from the monitor and frowned. Her eyes were so clear and earnest that for a moment he thought he might do something stupid, like lean forward and kiss her until she forgot all about Vic
DiCarlo
.

"The computer says
DiCarlo
is in
Sicily
," he said instead.

"I think he's back in the States," she said. "He knows the feds are watching, so he did it secretly. No flight plan." She paused. "I think you and I should put our heads together and figure out a way to flush him out."

Anger unfurled in his gut, but Nick curbed it. It wouldn't do him any good to snap at her. He'd already tried that and it hadn't worked. Maybe he could shock her into believing the mob didn't mess around when it came to revenge.

"You shot his son,
Erin
.
DiCarlo
won't let it go. He's not going to forget about it."

"If
DiCarlo
wanted me dead, I wouldn't be here."

"Maybe he doesn't just want you dead. Maybe he wants to hurt you the way you hurt him. You know his reputation when it comes to cops. If he decides to make an example of you, there won't be enough of you left to bury." She started to speak, but Nick silenced her by raising his hand. "Do us both a favor and let the feds handle this."

Unfolding her legs, she rose quickly and crossed to the other side of the room. "I'm not going to walk away."

Nick reached down, punched the power button on her laptop and closed the case. "If I have any say in the matter, you will."

She glared at him. "Don't let your philosophy on female cops cloud your judgment, Chief."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that misplaced sense of honor of yours that cringes at the thought of me getting into a tight spot with
DiCarlo
. Admit it, Chief. For all your enlightenment, there's a part of you that thinks women and police work don't mix."

A kick of anger surged through him. "Recklessness and police work is the mix that chafes me."

She laughed sharply. "Right. That's why you nearly blew a gasket when I took down those two suspects during the Brass Rail robbery."

"Your being female has nothing to do with it."

"Hector would have gotten a pat on the back, a gold star and a free beer. He sure wouldn't have gotten assigned to the school crosswalk—"

"Hector wouldn't have risked his life on two small-time bums who would have been picked up by the highway patrol within the hour."

"I'm not going to run away from
DiCarlo
just because the thought of me taking him down grates on your male sensibilities."

Nick's temper uncoiled. He was across the room, his fingers closing around her arms, before he even realized he had moved. "You want to know what's wrong with that picture,
McNeal?
"

She stared at him, surprise and a hefty dose of anger suffusing her face. "Let go of me."

"
DiCarlo
isn't some two-bit hood. He's cunning and he's ruthless. He's got an army of mindless goons just waiting for the chance to cap a cop. Call me a Neanderthal if that makes you feel better and helps you justify your need to make amends with your conscience, but I'm not going to stand by and let you get yourself cut up into little pieces in the name of decorum."

The color drained from her face, but her expression remained fierce. "I'm a police officer, Nick. I go after the bad guys no matter how scary they are."

"You're a powder keg, and you don't have the good sense to know when you're out of your league."

"We're not going to agree on this."

"Evidently."

She took a step back, but Nick went with her. "There's a difference between courage and taking needless risks just because you've got a score to settle with your conscience," he said.

"You can't handle my being a cop, and you've let that affect your actions when it comes to me."
Erin
's back bumped into the wall with a thud, stopping her backward progression.

"Maybe I can't handle it. But maybe you can't, either, McNeal. Maybe you're in this as deep as I am. Maybe we're both in so far over our heads that we don't know up from down." He stopped just short of touching her with his body. The restraint cost him, but he didn't let her know it. He desperately needed the upper hand, but knew with the certainty of a sailor watching his ship go down that he was about to lose that as well.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he reached for her hands and drew her to him. "I care about what happens to you, Erin. I didn't want to. I didn't want a lot of things to happen when it came to you. But they have. I'm not going to let you go after
DiCarlo
."

She was so close he could smell the warm, enticing scent of her, feel the heat coming off her, the electricity jumping from her body to his. Slowly, he eased her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

"Don't," she said breathlessly.

"Don't what? Worry about you? Don't care about you? Don't kiss you?"

He didn't miss her quick intake of breath. Her eyes widened when he took her fingertips into his mouth, and Nick knew then he wasn't the only one hanging on to control by a thread.

"Don't do something you're going to regret," she said.

"I already have." Reaching out, he trailed a finger down her throat, marveling at the silky feel of her flesh, wondering what it would be like to take the same track with his tongue.

She stared up at him, her cheeks suffused with color. "Funny, Nick, I never had you pegged as a risk taker."

"That's not the first time you've been wrong about me, is it?"

"I don't want to get in over my head."

"You already are." He smiled at her. "But you're not alone. But that's what risk is all about, isn't it?"

Her eyes darkened with the realization of what they both knew would happen next. "Why is it that getting any closer to you is the one risk that terrifies me?" she whispered.

"Maybe because we both know how
good
it's going to be. Maybe because we both know things won't ever be the same." He barely heard his own words over the drumming of his heart. Desire and a thousand other emotions he didn't want to deal with tangled inside him until he thought he would explode. He wanted her so badly he ached. He feared what it would do to him if he kissed her, if he totally lost his head and tried to seduce her.

Bracing his hands on either side of her, he leaned forward to kiss her. Just one kiss, he told himself,
then
they could sit down and discuss the problem like two adults. Cops, for Pete's sake. Nick would convince her to go with the nice
U.S.
Marshals.
Erin
would agree. The feds would bust
DiCarlo
. It would be over.

But the instant his lips touched hers, his tidy plans flew into disarray. The contact stunned him. The power of the kiss shook him to his foundation. The world shifted beneath his feet when she opened to him. He dug deep, plundering the velvet interior with his tongue. Marking her. Possessing her.

"I'm pretty new at this risk-taking stuff," he whispered. "Why don't you show me just how good it is?"

Her body went fluid against him, and Nick forgot about control. He was tired of fighting what he'd wanted since the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

Moving against her, he kissed her hard. Her mouth. Her throat. He trailed kisses lower, his tongue lashing her flesh, tasting, savoring. He smelled the sweet, exotic scent of her perfume tempered with the heady aroma of sweat from her recent workout. The combination drugged him. Urgency heated his blood, burning him until he couldn't bear it.