Cops And...Lovers? (23 page)

But he knew Frank was right. Letting his imagination run away with him would only make him crazy. He wouldn't do his daughter any good if he was a basket case. But he was so worried about her he could barely form a coherent thought. He needed to calm down. Think. Come up with a plan.

"Hang tight, partner," Frank said. "You've got my number. Call me if you hear from
DiCarlo
."

Nick disconnected, and looked around the room. He grappled for calm, ended up wanting to throw something. He wanted to break something with his bare hands. He wanted to hit something, anything to relieve the tension that had built up inside him like an overheated pressure cooker.

"What have you done with her, you bastard?" he said aloud.

For the first time in his law enforcement career, Nick was at a loss. He didn't know what to do or where to start. He didn't know how to get Stephanie back. He'd considered calling in his deputies, but instinct told him to wait. If
DiCarlo
got spooked, it was hard telling what he would do. But it nearly killed him that he couldn't do anything but wait.

Sinking into the chair behind his desk, he dropped his face into his hands and closed his eyes. His entire world had come apart in the last hours. First, he'd managed to get tangled up with a woman who would surely leave his life in tatters. Then his beloved child had been taken by a ruthless
mafioso
.

The urge to call
Erin
was strong, but Nick resisted it. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but the need to hear her voice was like a living thing inside him. She brought light into his darkness. Feeling into a heart that had numbed itself to emotion. Love into a soul that had been so battered it no longer knew the meaning of the word. He'd made love to her,
then
let her believe he blamed her for this. He couldn't imagine how much that had hurt her. Nick figured he was getting pretty good at blaming others for his own shortcomings.

The truth of the matter was none of this was
Erin
's fault. Not Stephanie's kidnapping. Not Rita's death or his daughter's spinal condition. Not his own fear of losing his heart.

The fact that
Erin
meant so much to him added a uniquely cruel twist to his terror. He knew what kind of woman she was. Independent to a fault. Cocky as hell. Too damn willing to put herself in the line of fire because she still believed in right and wrong, and because she still believed one good cop could make a difference.

The irony sent a harsh laugh from his throat. It was a bizarre sound in the stark silence of the office. He couldn't deny it any longer. He'd fallen in love with her. A cop! A woman with a taste for danger and a reckless streak that ran right down the center of her very pretty back.

At that moment, Nick would have sold his soul to hold her.

Suddenly the need to hear her voice overwhelmed him. He needed her.
Erin
didn't have to know he'd fallen in love with her. He didn't have to tell her. He wouldn't. As long as he had the strength to walk away when the time came, he'd be just fine.

Snatching up the phone, he dialed the Pioneer Motel.

A sleepy voice answered on the sixth ring.

"Room 135," Nick snapped.

"You mean the lady cop?"

His heart jolted. He hadn't identified either of them as cops when he'd checked in. "How do you know she's a cop?" he asked.

"She commandeered my truck, man. Said there was a police emergency of some kind."

Nick didn't hear the rest of the sentence. The terror inside him burgeoned into a monster, breaking free of the shackles of control. "This is Police Chief Nick Ryan. If she's still there, stop her—"

"Too late, man. She left ten minutes ago."

Nick should have realized she wouldn't sit this one out. Not when she felt responsible. Not when he hadn't bothered to tell her otherwise. Not when she already had two tons of guilt pressing down on her. "What kind of truck?" he asked.

"Blue Chevy, 1985." The clerk paused. "I am going to get my truck back, right?"

Nick disconnected,
then
stood abruptly, aware that he was breathing hard. Vaguely, he was aware of the roll of thunder outside. The patter of rain against the window.

She was going after
DiCarlo
.

Nick couldn't let her do it. Not alone. She didn't stand a chance against a man like
DiCarlo
. Nick couldn't let her get herself killed. Not the woman he'd come to love more than life itself.

He glanced at the wall clock.
Twelve forty-five
. Frank wouldn't arrive for another hour, the FBI sometime after that. If he could find the blue truck…

Not giving himself time to debate, Nick checked his sidearm, snatched up his truck keys and cell phone, and headed for the door.

* * *

Lightning split the sky, illuminating the entrance to the grain elevator fifty yards away.
Erin
slowed the truck and turned down the gravel drive. The monstrous structure loomed like a dinosaur grazing amidst the endless rows of corn. Ten minutes earlier, a tornado warning had been issued by the National Weather Service for the counties west of
Logan
Falls
.

Erin
figured the situation couldn't get much worse.

She flinched at a deafening crash of thunder. Stopping the truck a few yards from the yawning mouth of the entrance, she stared into the darkened interior, wishing she'd had time to formulate some kind of plan. But for the life of her, she hadn't been able to come up with anything better than what she was about to do. Offering herself up in exchange for Stephanie was the only way to save that little girl's life. No matter how
Erin
looked at it, the simple fact remained that
DiCarlo
wanted her, not Stephanie. The child was merely bait. A bargaining chip. That left the ball squarely in
Erin
's court, and she didn't intend to squander the chance.

A shiver rippled through her as the first giant drops of rain splattered against her windshield. She usually didn't have any difficulty leaving her emotions behind when she stepped into her cop's suit of armor. But this situation was different. She couldn't get her focus. She couldn't stop thinking about Stephanie. She couldn't stop thinking of Nick—or set aside the cold, hard knowledge of how much was at stake for all of them.

If anything happened to that little girl,
Erin
would never be able to live with herself. She knew that as surely as she knew
DiCarlo
didn't bluff when it came to threats. If it was the last thing she did, she would get Stephanie out of this. Or else she would die trying.

Leaning across the seat, she picked up the .22 mini-revolver and slipped it into the holster strapped to her ankle. She checked the cylinder of her service revolver,
then
tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. She expected
DiCarlo
or his men to disarm her. If she was lucky, they wouldn't find the ankle holster, and she'd have something to bargain with if things got crazy.

Erin
fully expected things to get crazy.

She shut down the engine and got out of the truck. The wind buffeted her, kicking up dust and small debris. Fat drops of rain
thunked
against the ground and pinged against the hood of the truck.

Another bolt of lightning ruptured the sky. Refusing to acknowledge the fear pounding in her chest, she started toward the entrance. She knew they were watching her. She felt their eyes tracking her, the malice surrounding her like a dark aura. She knew in an instant she could be dead. Just as she knew she didn't have a choice but to walk right into
DiCarlo's
trap.

She reached the entrance, breathless with adrenaline, every sense honed on her surroundings. Wind howled through the structure like a banshee.
A dozen fifty
-gallon drums lined the wall to her left. The darkened, windowed office stood to her right. A catwalk overhead offered yet another hiding place.

Erin
's breaths came hard and fast as the flashback pressed down on her. She fought it, forcing it back by sheer will.
Easy. Breathe. Focus.

"
DiCarlo
!" she shouted.

Two figures stepped out of the office. A surge of adrenaline sent her hand to her weapon. Every nerve in her body screamed as she drew it from her waistband. To her horror, her hands were shaking.
Easy. Breathe. Focus
. Her mind chanted the words like a mantra.

"I'm a police officer," she said.

The two men wore expensive suits. Italian loafers. They watched her with flat, emotionless eyes. Bodyguards—or hired killers—she thought, and choked back a crushing wave of fear.

"Mr.
DiCarlo
is expecting you," one of the men said. "Drop your gun, cop."

"Not until I see the little girl."
Erin
held her weapon steady on the man's chest. "Now."

The two men exchanged looks.

Erin
pulled the hammer back. "A hollow-point bullet won't go through that body armor you're wearing, but it will put you down," she said with a calm she didn't feel. "I won't miss a head shot. You'll be dead before you hit the ground."

The man's cheek twitched. Raising his arm, he snapped his fingers. The office door squeaked open.
Erin
's heart jerked hard in her chest when she saw Stephanie being rolled out of the darkness by yet another man. The little girl's face was dirty and tear streaked, her hair mussed.

"
Erin
?" Stephanie said in a small voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm here,"
Erin
replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm scared. I want to go home."

"Everything's going to be okay."

"I want my dad."

Tears burned behind
Erin
's eyes, and she fought for control. "I'm a police officer like your dad, sweetheart," she reminded her. "I'll take care of you. I'll keep you safe, okay?"

The little girl started to cry.

Erin
looked at the first man. "I'm taking her back to
Logan
Falls
."

"You're not going anywhere. Drop the gun, cop."

She knew she didn't have any bargaining power, but she had to try. "Not until I know this child is safe.
DiCarlo
gave me his word."

"I
ain't
making
no
promises. Drop the gun."

"No." Her heart began to rage. "If I'm trading myself for this child, I want to know she's not going to be harmed.
DiCarlo
wants me, not her. I want her taken back to town."

"Lose the gun, lady cop." The first man took a threatening step closer.

She tightened her grip on the weapon, reminding herself she had a backup, wondering if they disarmed her if she could get to her ankle holster before they shot her dead. "Take her back to town or the
deal's
off."

The man stopped three feet away from her, an ugly looking pistol aimed at her chest. "Drop it, or I'll hurt both of you."

Those were the words
Erin
had feared the most. She was outnumbered. Both she and Stephanie were at their mercy. The only thing she could hope for now was a stroke of luck or the possibility that, like some of the Mafia old-timers,
DiCarlo
had a code against hurting children.

Hating the sense of helplessness crashing down around her,
Erin
tossed her gun onto the concrete and looked the man in the eye. "I don't want her hurt," she said in a low voice.

"Get your hands up and turn around."

Fear coiled inside her like a snake as she turned. She closed her eyes as rough hands moved over her with quick, impersonal efficiency. Her legs went weak with relief when they missed the pistol strapped to her ankle.

"She's clean."

Roughly, her hands were jerked behind her back. "Tying me up wasn't part of the deal—"

"Shut up."

She tried to jerk away, but two of the thugs stepped forward to subdue her. Knowing she couldn't win, she stopped fighting and let them bind her wrists with a thin strand of wire.
Erin
fought down panic. She could still get to her pistol, she assured herself. It would be difficult, but she could still use it.
Easy. Breathe. Focus.

Oh, God, Nick, I'm sorry.

"Turn around, cop."

She turned, hoping they couldn't see the fear that permeated her every fiber. The thugs seemed more relaxed now that she'd been subdued. "Where's
DiCarlo
?" she asked.

As if on cue, the unmistakable drone of a helicopter rose above the howl of the wind. And
Erin
knew the final showdown was about to begin.