Cops And...Lovers? (22 page)

Like
that
made any sense. "All right." It seemed like the right thing to say, but he didn't have a clue what was going on. "Look,
Erin
, if I said something, or hurt you in any—"

She choked out a laugh and raised her eyes to his. "You didn't hurt me, Nick."

He stared at her, not understanding.

"You made me
feel
. I mean, you really made me feel … incredible. What we just shared … it was like magic. Not just the physical part, but … all of it. It moved me. That's never happened to me before."

A more powerful wave of panic surged through him. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. Not when his own emotions were so close to the surface he could feel them tightening around his throat like a noose. Not when she looked so fragile and sexy snuggled up against him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes teary.

She wiped at her tears. "I can't believe I'm … losing it like this just because we—"

"Had sex," he finished quickly.

"Right." She nodded vigorously. "We did. Have sex, I mean."

Silence reigned for a moment,
then
Nick felt the laugh in his chest break free. When
Erin
looked up at him and smiled, he laughed harder. Then she was laughing with him, a soft, musical sound that made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years. He laughed until tears streamed from his own eyes, and he felt giddy and weak.

When their laughter had dwindled to an occasional giggle, he cradled her against him and brushed his lips across her temple. "It blew my mind, too, McNeal," he said.

"I'm really glad I'm not the only one who noticed." She dazzled him with another smile. "I'd forgotten how powerful … sex can be."

"Maybe we're just out of practice."

"You know, Nick, we could probably spend the next couple of hours … you know … getting back into the swing of things."

He chuckled. Simultaneously, a wave of affection washed over him. Another more powerful emotion hit him in the gut like a fist. For a moment his throat was so tight he couldn't speak. Not because
Erin
was the first lover he'd taken since Rita, he realized with a start, but because of the way he felt about the woman he now held in his arms.

"What about you, McNeal?" he asked in a low voice.

"What about me?"

He smiled when she tensed. "Who was the jerk who convinced you a man who cares about you could never accept your being a cop?"

"What makes you think—
"

"You, Erin. You've told me in a hundred different ways since I've known you."

For a moment he thought she wouldn't answer. He told himself it didn't matter that she preferred not to share her past with him. He certainly didn't have a claim on her. But he wanted to know what made her tick. Even more, he wanted to know what had made her so cautious.

She smiled, but to Nick it looked uncomfortable. "His name is Warren Prentice, upwardly mobile assistant district attorney extraordinaire."

"I remember the name from my days in
Chicago
," he said.

"I was a rookie. Fresh out of the academy.
Warren
prosecuted a case I made the bust on. We worked together and ended up getting … involved. He was older. Ambitious. Slick as oil. On his way to the top in a major way."

Nick did his best to ignore the jealously that nudged through him. "What happened?"

"I was naive and fell really, really hard for him. I never do anything halfway, Nick. It's always all or nothing, even mistakes. I fell for
Warren
for all the wrong reasons. We'd only known each other for two months when he asked me to marry him."

"You didn't—"

"No, I didn't marry him."

"What happened?"

"A few weeks after he proposed, I was in on another bust. Things got squirrelly. Not for me. I never even drew my weapon, but my partner did. No one got hurt, but the next time I saw
Warren
he very matter-of-factly told me I would be quitting the department if I wanted to be his wife."

"The old ultimatum."

"The worst part was that I was going to do it. As much as I loved being a police officer, I was going to throw it all away. I had my resignation typed out. I had an interview lined up for a corporate security job. I would have gone through with it if I hadn't realized that giving in to his fears meant sacrificing my dreams. In the end, I walked away."

Nick's temper spiked at the thought of another man trying to control her like that, hurting her. A man she'd obviously loved at the time. "I'm sorry,
Erin
. That must have been tough."

"It was. I mean, it felt like the end of the world. I got really cautious after that. I haven't … been involved with anyone since
Warren
and—"

"Whoa." Nick turned to her so he could see her more fully. "Let me get this straight. You haven't been … with anyone for six
years
?"

Her gaze faltered. "He just left me … cold inside."

"It was his loss," Nick said.

Erin
's expression grew thoughtful. "But you know, I think things worked out for the best. I could never give up who I am. Not for anyone."

Her words disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. Not because he didn't admire her determination or her belief in herself—he prized both of those qualities—but because they provoked something inside him he'd just as soon not own up to.

"You don't have to give up who you are to love someone, Erin." His own words shocked him. Not because they weren't true or that he didn't believe them—he believed the statement fully and without question—but because he'd realized for the first time just how well he'd come to understand her.

"No, you don't have to give up who you are," she whispered. "But you
do
have to be willing to take a certain amount of risk."

Nick didn't want to think of the kind of risks she was referring to. Not when his heart was already on the chopping block and this woman all but had the cleaver in her hands. But God help him, he wanted her again. Wanted her so badly he shook with it. Not just physically, he realized with a start. He wanted more. He needed—

He squelched the thought before it could fully materialize. The repercussions of that line of thinking terrified
him,
sent a jolt of panic up his spine.

His body had recovered. She'd managed to get his heart rate up again. Well, he was a lot more comfortable having sex than he was talking about whatever was exploding between them.

Without preamble, he reached for her and kissed her hard on the mouth. She went rigid for an instant,
then
melted against him. Need flashed through him, snapping his control. He plundered her lips. A sound escaped her when he cupped her breasts, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Because as surely as his heart had become entangled with hers, he felt her slipping from his grasp. He told himself it didn't matter. He and Stephanie were better off without her. But not even the denial eased the clench of panic in his chest.

Nick was through talking. He didn't want words or feelings or emotions. He didn't want to care for her; he simply wasn't ready to take on a serious relationship. His logical side told him to put a stop to this before either of them got in any deeper. But his control failed him—not for the first time when it came to
Erin
. And he knew with the utter dread of a man on death row that it probably wouldn't be the last.

Growling low in his throat, he kissed her harder. Desperation clawed at him. He moved over her. She opened to him. Nick's heart hammered. His vision blurred.

"You don't fight fair, McNeal," he murmured.

"Neither do you."

He protected them and pushed inside her. The world ceased to exist when her liquid heat wrapped around him. Nick saw stars, swirling, exploding,
arcing
across his vision like tiny meteors. Groaning, he moved within her, fighting what he knew to be true, feeling the consequences of what he'd allowed to happen all the way to the pit of his stomach.

There was no future for them, he told himself. Just this moment of pleasure. Tomorrow he would send her back to
Chicago
with the two
U.S.
Marshals. Stephanie would be safe. His own heart would be safe.

And he'd never have to admit that he was falling hard and fast for Erin McNeal.

* * *

Nick wasn't sure what woke him. He lay in the darkness a moment, listening to the sound of distant thunder, aware that his heart was pounding. He didn't remember falling asleep. Didn't remember
Erin
curling against him…

She snuggled closer, and a wave of tenderness warmed him. Her face was smooth and innocent in the dim light slanting in through the window. The image of her with her head thrown back in ecstasy, her hair spread out on the pillow, came to him like an apparition. His body stirred with the memory. Heat. Urgency. A thousand other feelings and sensations he didn't want to deal with curled inside him, but he shoved them back, disturbed by their power.

Raising his head, he glanced at the alarm clock on the night table.
Midnight
. He reached for the phone and dialed
Hector's
cellular. Concern slithered through him when a recording told him the cell phone user had left the service area.

"Damn." Fighting a rise of alarm, Nick sat up and redialed. As he listened to the same recording a second time, alarm transformed into something icy and cold. From memory, he punched in the number of the physical rehab center in
Indianapolis
. A female clerk answered on the second ring.

"This is Nick Ryan. Has my daughter, Stephanie Ryan, or Emily
Thornsberry
checked in yet?"

Computer keys clicked at the other end of the line.

"We've got the reservation, Mr. Ryan, but they haven't checked in yet."

Cursing, Nick
disconnected,
his mind racing. Hector should have had them checked in by now. Where the hell were they? If they'd run into problems, why hadn't Hector called?

Nick jumped when his cell phone chirped, then he snatched the phone up and curtly uttered his name.

"Chief!"

The fear in his deputy's voice jolted him to red alert. "What's wrong?" he asked, wondering in a small corner of his mind why there was panic in his own voice.

"Two men … armed. They forced us off the road. Tied us up. Damn."
Hector's
voice broke.

Nick's nerves went taut. A dozen scenarios scrambled through his mind, none of them good. "
What happened?
"

"They got her, Nick."

Hector didn't need to say who for Nick to know. White-hot terror screamed through him. He didn't remember rising. He didn't remember crossing the room and stepping into his trousers. "Where's Stephanie?"

"They got her, Chief. Good Lord, they
took
her."

Chapter 13

«
^
»

E
rin
woke to panic. She felt it. Sensed it. Smelled it like gunpowder from a killing blast. Pulling the sheets up to cover herself, she sat bolt upright. "Nick?"

He stood amid the darkness on the opposite side of the room. In the sparse light slanting through the window, she could see he had on his slacks, no shirt, his cell phone pressed to his ear. A slow spiral of dread bored a
hole
right through her.

"When?" he snapped into the phone.

Erin
rolled out of bed and began gathering her clothes. Good Lord, what was going on? Why was Nick on the phone? Why had he been shouting? She looked at her watch. It was just after
midnight
.

Nick cursed exorbitantly.

Even from across the room,
Erin
could hear him breathing. She stepped into her jeans,
then
tugged her T-shirt over her head. "Nick, what is it? What's happened?"

"Oh, no," he said into the darkness. "Oh, no.
No!"

Erin
flipped on the light. "Nick?"

Lowering the phone, he turned away from her and leaned against the dresser as if he suddenly no longer had the strength to support himself.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Her heart rolled over when he raised his head. His face was chalk-white. Sweat dampened his brow. She sensed danger, felt the violence coming off him in thick, choking waves.

She stepped back when his gaze met hers. In the depths of his eyes, she saw murder. Her heart began to pound.

"
Steph
and Mrs. T.," he said hoarsely. "They never made it to
Indianapolis
."

Confusion swirled for an instant—then the meaning behind his words struck her with the force of a freight train. "Oh, God. Oh,
no
." She felt gut punched. Taking another step back, she pressed her hand to her stomach. "Please tell me they're not—"

"Hector and
Em
are all right. The bastard has my little girl."

Erin
didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "
DiCarlo
?"

Without warning, he punched the dresser mirror. Glass shattered, spraying outward from the impact.

"Nick!"

"Why
her
, for God's sake?" he snarled.

"Nick—"

"If he hurts her, I'll kill him. I'll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands."

"Stop it. Please."

"I've got to find her."

Erin
saw blood on his knuckles, fought back a crushing wave of panic. "Calm down—"

"
DiCarlo
crossed the line," he said in a low, menacing voice.

She stared at him, wondering if he could hear the maniacal rhythm of her heart. "How did it happen?"

"A limo forced them off the road."

"We'll get her back."

"I should have realized it would come to this." His expression turned stricken and pale and as dangerous as a viper about to strike. "I should have been there for her. I wasn't. Just like I wasn't there for her the night of the accident."

The terror resonating in his voice ignited the same emotions inside
Erin
. She felt her control slipping, like sand through her fingers, no matter how tight her grasp. "This isn't your fault."

"I don't have time for this," he snapped.

Erin
's stomach roiled and she felt nauseous. Oh, she hadn't meant to involve that sweet little girl!

"I've got to go to the station," he said.

"Let me come with you."

"Stay here," he ordered. "I don't need
DiCarlo
getting his hands on you, too." Without speaking, Nick bent and scooped up his uniform shirt. She watched, numb with pain, as he buttoned it with shaking, bleeding fingers.

He barely looked at her as he buckled his holster. "No one knows you're here. Don't open the door for anyone but me. Keep your sidearm close. You got that?"

Erin
barely heard his words as cold realization crept over her. An instant later, the situation crystallized.
DiCarlo
didn't want Stephanie; he wanted
Erin
. The knowledge impacted her solidly, hitting a place that was raw and weak. She nearly crumpled with the blow.

Shaking, barely trusting her legs,
Erin
crossed the room. "
DiCarlo
doesn't want Stephanie, Nick. He wants me."

The rumble of thunder outside punctuated the thick silence that followed her words. Nick slipped his cell phone into his uniform pocket,
then
turned to her.
Erin
winced at the ice in his gaze. She couldn't believe that just a few short hours earlier he'd caressed her with such utter tenderness. Shared intimacies with her. Opened his heart. Stolen
her own
. Her heart shattered with the realization that he blamed her for Stephanie's kidnapping.

He hadn't said the words, but
Erin
saw the accusation in the depths of his eyes. She stared at him, willing herself to believe it wasn't her fault. But the truth made her sick with regret. Her heart broke with the knowledge that the man she loved blamed her for risking something as precious as his child.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned.

"I'll stay." She couldn't, of course. She had to find Stephanie.
Erin
couldn't let that little girl pay for something she herself had done.

He crossed to her and kissed her then—a hard, emotionless kiss born of desperation and fear. But it moved her nonetheless. Moved her so profoundly that her throat locked up and she choked back a sob.

No longer trusting her legs, she backed toward the bed,
then
slowly sank to a sitting position. She had the sudden, irrational urge to tell him she loved him, fearing this moment would be her only chance, but she didn't.

"Watch
yourself
," he said. Then, without looking back, he opened the door and stepped into the night.

* * *

Erin
slapped her badge down on the counter and shot the desk clerk her best don't-mess-with-me glare. "I'm a police officer. I'm commandeering a vehicle for a police emergency."

The desk clerk of the Pioneer Motel stared at her as if she'd just told him she was going to shoot off one of his fingers. "
Wh
-
what do you mean?"

"I need a vehicle," she snapped. "Now!"

The young man jumped. "Uh … is a truck okay?"

"Fine. Give me the keys." She looked at the clock on the wall behind him. It was twelve-thirty. Outside, a crack of thunder vibrated the walls. How on earth was she going to find Stephanie?

The clerk unsnapped a key chain from his belt loop and handed it to her. "Should I call the police or something?"

"Chief Ryan has already been apprised of the situation."

The young man didn't look convinced. "When do I get my truck back?"

"You can pick it up at the station later this afternoon." She took the key. "Where's the vehicle?"

"Out back. Next to the Dumpster."

The pickup truck should have been in the Dumpster as far as
Erin
was concerned. She stalled it twice before getting out of the parking lot, and once on the way to her apartment. By the time she unlocked the door, her heart was raging with frustration. The minutes were ticking by, and she didn't have the slightest idea how to find Stephanie. Her police training told her to find Nick or call Frank in
Chicago
. The part of her that was crushed by guilt because she'd endangered a child's life wasn't thinking quite as logically.
Erin
knew
DiCarlo
wanted her, not Stephanie. It made perfect sense to offer up herself in exchange for the child.

The phone jangled as she closed the door behind her. Crossing the room, she snatched it up on the second ring. "McNeal," she said breathlessly.

Thick silence made the hairs at her nape stand on end.

"I've been calling your apartment every five minutes for the last half hour, Officer McNeal."

A sane person would have frozen in fear at the sound of Vic
DiCarlo's
voice.
Erin
wasn't feeling particularly sane.

Satisfaction rolled slowly through her that he'd done something so predictable. Thinking fast, she pressed the record button of her answering machine. "I've been busy," she said levelly. "You've got something I want."

"Ah, you don't disappoint me. I appreciate a woman who likes to get down to business quickly."

The cold ruthlessness in his voice made her break into a sweat. "Where's the little girl?" she asked curtly.

"I've been taking good care of her. I have a soft spot for children, you know."

Erin
closed her eyes against the sudden rush of heat behind her lids. She tried not to imagine how frightened Stephanie must be. How helpless she must feel not being able to walk or run away from the bad man.
Erin
's police training told her to keep this impersonal. To keep her emotions out of the situation. But the part of her that was a woman and loved that child, the part of her that loved Nick, cried out with pain and fear and outrage. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you," she said.

"We both know I'm not interested in this child. I am, however, very interested in you."

She gripped the phone, her heart thundering. "What do you want?"

"I want you in exchange for the child, of course."

"I'm listening."

"There's a deserted grain elevator on Highway 59 about ten miles south of
Logan
Falls
."

She looked at her watch. "I can be there in ten minutes."

"A word of warning, Officer McNeal. Come alone. If you call the police, if you contact anyone, including that police chief of yours, I won't hesitate to kill this child."

Bile rose in her throat, but she choked it down. Her hands shook so violently that for a moment she thought she would drop the phone.
Oh, God, please don't let him hurt her
. "I'll come alone," she said.

The line disconnected.

* * *

Nick paced the confines of the police station lobby like a caged beast. Terror and frustration rampaged through him. Something darker hovered just beneath the surface. The thought of his sweet, innocent child frightened and alone twisted like a knife in his gut. The thought of losing her—

He broke off the thought with ruthless precision. He wouldn't think of losing her. He wouldn't let that happen. He would die before letting her down again.

The phone shrilled. He snatched it up, cutting the ring short. "Ryan."

"It's Frank. I'm en route. Any news?"

"No." The quality of the connection told him Frank was on his cellular. Nick had called him on his way from the motel to the police station and briefed him on the situation.

"If I can hold it at eighty without getting stopped by the Indiana Highway Patrol, I should be there in an hour. Have you contacted the FBI?"

Nick glanced at his watch, realizing with a stark sense of despair it had only been five minutes since he'd hung up with the Chicago FBI office. "They're sending a team."

"What about
Erin
?"

Nick had sworn he wouldn't think about her. He didn't want to think about her. Didn't want to dig his emotional hole any deeper than it already was. But the simple utterance of her name was all it took to bring the image of her to the forefront of his mind. Make him remember the way she'd looked at him when they'd made love, when she'd been open and vulnerable beneath him, her eyes as soft as a
Midwest
sunset. He didn't like the feelings roiling in his chest. They were too close to something real and terrifying he didn't want to face. They made him realize he was in miles over his head and floundering helplessly to save himself.

God help him, he hadn't wanted to fall in love with her. "She's at the Pioneer Motel." Nick's voice was hoarse.

"Good. Keep her there." The other man paused. "How are you holding up?"

"If
DiCarlo
hurts
Steph
, I'm going to kill him, Frank.
I swear, I'll kill him."

"Easy, partner. Don't go there."

No false reassurances from Frank. Nick thought bitterly. But then, Frank was a cop. Cops were straight with each other, even in the face of tragedy. Both men knew what kind of man Vic
DiCarlo
was. Just as they knew what he was capable
of.

The thought of a monster like
DiCarlo
getting his hands on his sweet child filled Nick with rage. The power of that rage stunned him, and for the first time in his life he wondered what he was capable of.