Into the Crossfire (24 page)

internal injuries she has."

The miracle was Sam. He'd caught her just before she'd have gone crashing

through the window to her death nine stories below. She shuddered at the thought.

Nicole took a quick internal check, as the medic took her pulse and shined a

light in her eyes. Did she have internal injuries?

Most of the momentum of her flight toward the windows had been blocked

by Sam's body. Her shoulder and back had slammed into the bookcase and she'd

had the wind knocked out of her, like the time she'd fallen out of the swings when

she was ten. She still remembered that horrible feeling as she lay on her back,

staring at the bright blue Greek sky, unable to move and unable to draw a breath.

It had been terrifying, but a minute later, she was on her feet again, and ten

minutes later, she was back with her friends on the swings, the incident totally

forgotten, until now.

She'd had the wind knocked out of her, badly. Her shoulder hurt and,

knowing how delicate her skin was, she'd be badly bruised. In the next couple of

days, there would be a rainbow of colors on her shoulder, the palette dominated by

black and green.

But that was it. She took in a deep breath and felt no pain at all. She felt

shaken, a man had broken into her office and threatened her with a gun to the

head. Feeling deeply rattled was only natural. And she was tired, because she was

now going on thirty-six hours without sleep. But there was nothing broken inside

her.

Another man entered the room, crouched next to her, a familiar face. Mike

the cop.

Sam frowned at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Word travels, bro. Cop shop jungle drums. Harry's here, too."

Sam swiveled his head. Behind Mike was a tall man with lines of suffering

on his face, on crutches. He was an unhealthy pale color, big-boned but painfully

thin, the emaciation of illness or injury. Nicole recognized it immediately.

The medic stood. "Okay. Vital signs are good, but we're taking you in for

observation, ma'am. It would probably be a good idea to stay overnight, just so we

can be sure you're not concussed."

"No," Nicole said calmly.

The medic had been beckoning to someone at the door, but he turned

around at her tone. "No?" It was as if he'd never heard the word before.

"No. No question. I'm not going to the hospital." Nicole had spent two

months accompanying her father to the hospital for radiotherapy, every single day.

116

Just walking through hospital doors and inhaling the smell of formalin and alcohol

made her nauseous.

She didn't need the hospital. She was shaken and scared but not hurt, not

seriously. Staying in a hospital was not going to make her feel better. "I know

myself. I had the wind knocked out of me, that's all. I'm a little bruised, but there's

nothing broken inside. I'm just fine."

Sam's jaw muscles jumped. He was literally biting down on words. "You

could be concussed." Each word sounded pulled out of him by red-hot pincers.

"If I'm concussed, being in the hospital won't help." But she wasn't. She

hadn't bumped her head. Her muscles hurt, not her head.

"You're coming home with me, then." Sam's deep voice was belligerent, as

if spoiling for a fight. "And at the first sign of something I don't like, you're going

to the hospital. That is non-negotiable."

Usually, Nicole was like a cat. You did not order her about. Under normal

circumstances, her pride, if nothing else, would have made her refuse Sam's

orders. But actually, going home with Sam sounded wonderful. If she went back to

her own home, she'd have to face the night nurse and, maybe, her father. The last

thing he needed was to see her bruised and shaken.

Going home with Sam, maybe sleeping a few hours in his arms, sounded

like heaven right now.

"Okay," she said softly. "Deal."

Sam had assumed a fighting stance, legs apart and braced, clearly ready to

put up a fight. He blinked, the wind taken out of his sails. He relaxed a little and

nodded, eyes never leaving hers. "Deal."

"Ma'am? I'm Lieutenant Kelly. Do you feel up to answering a few

questions?" Nicole looked at the man standing next to Mike. Lieutenant Kelly

looked tired, as if just coming off a very long shift. He was tall, heavyset but very

fit-looking, dressed in a rumpled gray suit that matched the gray at his temples.

She had to twist her neck painfully to look up at him as he walked around

her, pulling up one of her client chairs. A Louis IV, which she'd had covered in

Antico Setificio Fiorentino dark green brocade. It was exceedingly pretty and

fragile. He sat on it gingerly as if hoping it wouldn't crack under his weight. She

sat on its twin, turning it so they were face to face, almost knee to knee.

Sam pulled up another chair, placed it as close to hers as it could go, and sat

down.

Lieutenant Kelly leaned forward, elbows on knees, holding a worn

notebook. At his soft instigation, Nicole gave her name, address and office, home

and cell phone numbers.

"Do you want to tell me what went down, Ms. Pearce?"

"Yes. Of course." She took a deep breath, marshaling her thoughts. "I, um,

didn't go into work today. I wasn't, um, feeling very well, so I worked from home.

Or tried to." Next to her, she could practically feel Sam vibrating. The lieutenant

was watching her carefully, bruised-looking gray eyes fixed on her intently. Nicole

117

hoped with all her heart the man didn't have telepathic powers, because she would

die on the spot if he figured out exactly why she didn't come in to work today.

Because she'd been rattled by the most intense night of sex of her life. Whew.

He simply nodded at her, made an annotation in his notebook, then looked

back at her. Go on. He didn't betray any impatience, but the words hovered in the

air.

God, she was tired. A sudden wave of debilitating exhaustion swept over

her. She looked down in her lap, horrified to see her hands shaking. She clutched

them, hoping the detective hadn't noticed.

He'd noticed.

So had Sam.

Sam reached over and curled one big hand over her clasped ones, stilling

the trembling. But she was trembling all over now and felt cold, chilled to the

bone.

"Oh God." She clenched her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. "Sorry. I

don't know what's happening to me."

"Adrenaline dump," Sam said, tightening his grasp. His hand felt so warm.

The lieutenant nodded. "It's perfectly understandable, Ms. Pearce. You've

had a terrible experience and your body's reacting. We can take this downtown. Or

do this tomorrow, if you want."

"No, no, I want to do this now. I want this man caught. I want him caught

and punished to the full extent of the law. Not only for breaking and entering but

also for assault." The lieutenant looked over at Sam, a brief electric glance of male

understanding.

"What?" she said, indignant. "You don't think you're going to catch him, do

you?" The thought chased the chill away. The intruder had violated her space,

threatened her. She wanted him caught and put behind bars for scaring the living

daylights out of her. Oh, and for trying to toss her out of a ninth-story window.

"Well, we'll do our very best, ma'am," the lieutenant said calmly. He looked

down at his notebook. "So...you weren't able to work from home today. And you

decided to come in after hours, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." Nicole got a grip on herself. To catch this awful man,

she had to get past her emotional reactions and give the police as much

information as possible.

Grow a backbone, Nicole. She sat straighter in her chair and willed the

trembling to stop. Sam's hand around hers was like a small furnace. She

concentrated on that warmth until she could marshal her thoughts.

"Do you know what time you came in?" The lieutenant bent his head over

his notebook. He had a crewcut so severe she could see the scalp beneath the hair.

"No, I don't--" she began, then stopped. "Wait. It was exactly 9:05 when I

walked out of the elevator. I remember seeing the big wall clock at the end of the

corridor. It's digital so it gives the exact time. That means it probably would have

been 9:06 by the time I entered my office." She snatched a sideways glance at

118

Sam. "This time I made sure I had my keys with me."

He nodded, unsmiling.

"And you opened your door with your key?" Nicole couldn't imagine what

the lieutenant was writing, but he was scribbling away.

"Yes. I, um, I entered with the key and--oh!" She cried out. The other men

in the room, the fingerprint tech, the medic and Sam's friends Harry and Mike

raised their heads. "How stupid of me! I didn't notice. I always engage the

deadbolt when I leave my office. Always. And yet when I opened my door with

my key, I didn't have to turn my key more than once. So--"

"So someone was in your office and you waltzed right into an ambush.

Goddammit, woman. That wasn't smart. You could have gotten yourself killed."

Sam's deep voice was harsh, his face stiff with disapproval. His jaw muscles

bunched as he clearly bit back further words. Probably a lot of adjectives, like

idiot and airhead, were rolling around in his mouth like marbles.

No, it hadn't been smart. Nicole wanted to snap back at him, but the truth

was, he was right. If she'd been paying any attention at all, she'd have backed away

immediately. But this wasn't the kind of thing she paid attention to. She paid

attention to her father and to her work and not much else these days. This was just

way, way outside her attention zone.

Besides, she'd been tired, confused about her feelings for Sam, worried

about her father...and she'd walked right into a burglar trying to steal God knows

what from her office.

"Sam, dial it down. This isn't helping." The lieutenant shot him one of those

looks men used to quell each other. "Now, ma'am." He turned back to her. "So the

deadbolt wasn't engaged, but you didn't notice that."

"No, not at all." Oh God, the shame. Single women weren't supposed to be

so clueless when it comes to their personal security. "What can I say? I was

thinking about the work I had to do and I simply wasn't paying attention. So I just

turned the key and...and reached for the light switch, but then a man slammed me

against the wall, put a gun to my head and said that he'd shoot me if I screamed."

She shivered. Sam leaned over, planted a soft kiss in her hair and

whispered. "It's okay. You're okay now."

Mike and Harry exchanged glances.

"It--it was horrible. I was so scared and I had the breath knocked out of me.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I didn't know what to do, I was paralyzed with

fear."

It was something she'd never forget--the feeling of utter helplessness. Of

knowing that he was stronger than she was and his strength gave him permission

to do anything he wanted to her. She'd lived twenty-eight years on this earth

without feeling like helpless prey and she never, ever wanted to experience it

again.

She turned to Sam. "I want you to teach me self-defense. All the moves

possible to break someone's neck. Or at least an arm." She thought for a moment.

119

"And maybe how to shoot or something. I never want to feel that helpless again."

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. His eyes opened and stared fiercely into

hers. "Count on it. An intense course in self-defense, several martial arts, we'll find

the one best suited to you, and also use of firearms..."

"And knives." How satisfying it would have been to stick a knife between

his ribs. Or cut off the man's balls. "I want to know how to use a knife. A big one.

Big black one. The kind that reaches the heart in a second." She'd wear it in a thigh

sheath, like Lara Croft.

"Knives, too, then. No question." For the first time, a ghost of a smile

crossed his lips. He bowed his head gravely.

Nicole nodded her head. She probably wouldn't train, but right now the

thought that she could, that she could turn herself into a mighty she-warrior,

comforted her.

The lieutenant was immersed in his notebook, clearly as riveting as any best

seller. "Then what happened?"

"He--he switched on the light."

The lieutenant looked up at that. "Did you recognize him?"

"No." Her voice rang with conviction. "I've never seen him before in my

life."

"Can you give me a description?"

Nicole closed her eyes. It had all happened so fast. "Um, I didn't see him for

very long. He had short light brown hair, light brown eyes. Dressed in this funny

black jumpsuit." She thought, then shrugged. That was about it. "I'd probably

recognize him in a lineup." Maybe. She'd been so terrified, her mind had simply

blanked with blind panic.

The lieutenant switched his gaze to Sam.

"Five ten, one eighty, brown and brown, Nomex tactical suit, combat boots,

K-bar in thigh sheath, Kimber 1911, three mags on the belt, latex gloves, so your

guys probably won't find prints. He left in a real hurry, maybe my security

cameras caught his face. You could run it through the FBI's facial recognition