CHAPTER 9
Nick should have realized Stephanie would be angry with him. He couldn’t expect her to understand why he’d sent Erin away, that he was only interested in protecting his little girl, and saving them both from another run through hell.
The truth be told, Nick wasn’t even sure if he understood all the intricacies behind his inability to deal with Erin. The one thing he knew for certain was that his instincts were telling him she was a threat. To Stephanie. Maybe even to himself. He wasn’t sure which scared him more.
Nick hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the similarity between Rita and Erin. But the truth was indisputable; the parallels were now clear. Rita had been a risk taker. Spontaneous. Careless. Daring. Once upon a time he’d loved her for it. But she’d dared fate one too many times. The pain he’d endured after her death had soured his taste for risk, especially when it came to matters of the heart. In the last three years he’d paid the price for loving her a thousand times over.
Was he headed in the same direction with Erin by caring for her? What about Stephanie? She had lost her mother, her ability to walk—and the precious happiness known only by children. Had he put his little girl’s heart at risk by allowing her to get close to another risk taker?
He wanted that happiness back for his child. Wanted it back for her so badly he felt it with every cell of his body. As much as he was attracted to Erin—as much as he’d begun to care for her—she was exactly what they didn’t need. A relationship with the gutsy lady cop from Chicago would be nothing short of disaster. He couldn’t let himself get any closer. God in heaven, he couldn’t let his heart get involved.
Nick nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation. No, he assured himself, he wouldn’t fall for Erin McNeal. Yes, he was…attracted to her. What red-blooded American male wouldn’t be? She was sexy as hell. But the bottom line was that he refused to put himself or his daughter through any more heartbreak no matter how much he liked the way Erin kissed.
He could handle his urges. Given some time, he’d find a nice woman he could care for, and eventually bring her home to Stephanie. A woman who knew how to cook and didn’t spend her time wrestling suspects and playing with guns. Nick could keep his distance from Erin, he told himself. He possessed the control. He certainly possessed the will.
In his dreams, maybe.
He stood on the front porch and stared at the driveway where her cruiser had disappeared just ten minutes earlier. Guilt tugged at him for the way he’d treated her. What had he been thinking, putting his hands on her like that? That wasn’t his style. She hadn’t deserved to be humiliated. She hadn’t deserved to be pawed at like some kind of sex object. She was no more ready for that kind of relationship than he was. What in the world had prompted him to act so out of character?
Lust, he figured. The hell of it was he hadn’t cared at the time. He’d wanted her, had used his own anger as an excuse to cross an indelible line. He’d been so out of control, he hadn’t been able to walk back to the house for a while, not without Mrs. Thornsberry noticing the state Erin had left him in.
Nick had too much respect for Erin, and women in general, to treat her with such blatant disregard. In the back of his mind, he’d known what he was trying to accomplish. He’d intended to drive her away permanently with his crude advances. Only his plan had blown up in his face the moment he’d felt the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingertips. When she’d looked at him with those bottomless green eyes, his plan had collapsed beneath the weight of his own desperate need to touch her. He’d ended up losing control and forgetting everything the moment he’d taken that first, sweet taste of her mouth.
“Nick?”
He turned, arching a brow at Mrs. Thornsberry’s tone. “What is it, Em?”
The nanny pushed open the screen door and shoved his cell phone at him. “It’s Hector. Erin’s been in an accident.”
* * *
A plume of dust clouded the air as Nick raced the Suburban down the driveway. He reached for the radio mike. “Hector, did she give her location?”
“County Line Road is all I heard, Chief. Called in a code one, then an eight. It sounded urgent. Said there was a shotgun—”
Nick cursed at the last word, vaguely aware that he’d flipped on the emergency lights and floored the accelerator. “Where on County Line Road?”
“Logan Creek bridge. You want me to meet you out there?”
The mention of the Logan Creek bridge gave Nick pause, but only for a moment. “Get an ambulance—”
“Parke County Rescue is en route.”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Nick racked the mike. An odd sense of déjà vu engulfed him as he turned onto County Line Road. It had been nearly three years since his wife’s accident, but he remembered every agonizing detail with a clarity that made his heart race. Shaken by the force of the emotions surging through him, he gripped the steering wheel and willed his pulse to slow. He wouldn’t think of Rita now. He wouldn’t think of that terrible day. Or the black months that followed.
He wasn’t involved with Erin McNeal, didn’t care about her. If she’d gotten herself hurt—or worse—he wouldn’t feel it all the way to his soul, the way he had when Rita had died. McNeal was his deputy, nothing more. A troubled cop who’d needed a chance to get back on her feet after a tragic shooting. He’d lent a hand. He liked the way she looked, and had behaved badly. But that was where it ended. He refused to analyze his feelings for her any more deeply than that.
He wouldn’t tempt fate by caring for a woman who didn’t hesitate to put herself on the line. Nor would he risk his daughter’s young heart. No matter how attracted he was to Erin, he wouldn’t get involved with her. He wouldn’t let her hurt him. He wouldn’t let her touch him emotionally. He was immune, dammit. Had been since the night Rita had quietly died in his arms. Never again would he lay his heart out on the chopping block so that fate could slash it at will.
His heart thrummed like a jackhammer when he spotted skid marks near the bridge. Fear gripped him with clawlike fingers as he brought the Suburban to a screeching halt. Throwing open the door, he hit the ground running.
“McNeal!”
The car wasn’t anywhere in sight, but the pungent smell of burning rubber filled the air. He stopped at the bridge, dizzy with fear, sick with remembrance. His gaze followed the skid marks to the edge of the asphalt, where they tore into the shoulder. The car had barely missed the steel girders, cutting a path through the weeds, then plummeting down the embankment.
He stumbled to the edge of the road. His heart rolled when he spotted the overturned cruiser a few feet from the muddy creek bank. A second later he was moving, scrambling down the steep incline. “Erin!” He heard her name as if the voice had come from someone else.
His pulse raged as he sprinted toward the vehicle. “McNeal! Answer me, dammit!”
Dropping to his knees outside the driver’s side door, Nick leaned forward, peered inside, and his heart simply stopped. Erin’s lifeless form hung suspended, held in place by her safety belt. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes open and staring. Nick’s first thought was that she was dead.
“McNeal!” Panic knifed through him. Without thinking, he reached for her. Her flesh was cold to the touch. She didn’t stir. “Erin! Honey, can you hear me?”
Her answer came in the form of an elongated groan. She blinked at Nick. “Oh, Nick. I think I screwed up.”
The sound of her voice nearly undid him. His emotions rose dangerously to the surface. Relief. Thankfulness. A hundred others he didn’t want to name. For a moment he couldn’t speak, could do nothing but sit back and thank God she was alive.
“Do you hurt anywhere?” he managed to ask after a moment.
She shifted, her brows knitting. “That’s a really dumb question at this point, Chief.”
He stared at her, choking back emotions that were trying to strangle him. He was losing it, and she was cracking jokes. “Where do you hurt?” he croaked. “Your neck? Your back?”
“Everywhere except the soles of my feet.”
A tension-breaking laugh squeezed from his throat. “You scared the dickens out of me.”
Closing her eyes, she smiled faintly. “Me, too.”
“I smell gas. Honey, I’ve got to get you out of the car. Can you move?”
Both of her hands opened and closed. “Yeah.”
“What about your legs?”
Her face screwed up with the effort, but Nick saw her ankles flex. “I can move. Let’s do it. I don’t want to take a chance on becoming a s’more.”
Praying he wouldn’t cause additional damage in the event that she had a spinal or neck injury, Nick crawled halfway through the window, then reached up to release her safety belt. “I’m going to unsnap your belt. Just relax and fall against me, okay?”
She nodded.
Holding her in place with one arm, he released the belt and felt her sag against him. “Feel okay?”
“Doesn’t even hurt.”
Nick closed his eyes as another wave of emotion pushed through him. “I’m going to set you down and pull you out of the car. Don’t move. Just let me take care of you, okay?”
He should have known she wouldn’t obey. By the time he’d backed out of the overturned car, Erin was crawling on all fours. “Nick—”
“I told you to lie still,” he growled.
“There was another vehicle. A Lincoln. There was a gun—”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “Whoever it was, they’re gone.” Rising, he looked over his shoulder and thumbed off the strap of his holster. “I’ll ask you about the car in a moment, okay? Right now I want you to lie down. I’ve got a cervical collar and blanket in my truck—”
When she started to stand, he merely swept her into his arms. “When are you going to learn to follow orders?”
“Maybe my next life.” She looked toward the road. “The other car. Are you sure it’s gone?”
“There was nobody here when I drove up. Hector’s on his way. An ambulance is en route—”
“They tried to kill me, Nick. Shot out the windshield. I couldn’t see. The bridge came out of nowhere….”
“Shh.” The need to protect her made him grind his teeth. “I’m armed. No one’s going to hurt you.”
She felt delicate cradled in his arms. Even through the stench of gasoline, her tantalizing scent floated around his brain. He resisted the urge to put his face against hers and close his eyes just to feel her warmth, just to make sure she was really there.
Grunting with the effort, he ascended the ravine with her in his arms, then settled her onto the grass. A sound from the ravine arrested Nick’s attention. They both looked over in time to see fire engulf the cruiser.
“Oh, my God,” Erin said hoarsely. “You saved my life.”
Nick didn’t want her gratitude. He didn’t like the way she was looking up at him with those large, green eyes of hers. The combination was messing with his head and making him want to hold her tight and never let go.
“For having just flipped your cruiser, you sure are talking a lot,” he growled.
“You’re not going to fire me for wrecking it, are you?”
“Depends on how badly the town council rakes me over the coals. I’ll let you know.”
When she started to sit up, he gently pressed her back into the grass. “Easy, McNeal. Do me a favor and just lie still for a couple of minutes, okay?”
She didn’t fight him.
“I’m going to get that collar and blanket. Don’t move.” He loped to the rear of the truck and threw open the door. Rummaging quickly through the emergency case, he removed what he needed, then rushed back to her. Dropping to his knees, he fastened the cervical collar around her neck, then snapped open the blanket and covered her from chin to the tips of her toes. Even through the flannel he could see that she was trembling. A cut stood out stark and red on her left temple. Nick hated seeing her pretty skin marred.
“This will help keep you from going into shock,” he said.
“I know the drill, Chief. But I’m okay. Honest.”
Before he realized he was going to touch her, he raised his hand and pressed his fingers to her cheek. She flinched, but her flesh felt like velvet. Warm. Supple.
She watched him cautiously, her eyes darkening to the color of a forest at dusk. Her hair was spread out beneath her like shiny scraps of silk. Despite the cut on her temple and the smudge of dirt on her chin, he thought he’d never seen a woman look so thoroughly beautiful.
Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re all right, McNeal.”
She smiled up at him. “Thanks for saving my neck.”
“Well, you’ve got a really nice neck.” He tried to smile at her, but failed. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you back at the house. I’m sorry for the way I touched you.”
“Nick, it’s okay—”
“No, it’s not. I had no right.”
“I’m a big girl. I knew what I was doing.”
“You were upset when you left my house. I did that to you. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been…” Before he could finish, a choking wave of emotion hit him. He straightened, but suddenly he couldn’t speak. His throat locked up. His insides turned to jelly. The shakes hit him with the violence of an earthquake. As the first shivers went through his body, he knew just how deep his feelings for this maddening, recalcitrant woman had become.
“Nick?”
He stared at her, aware of the softness of her flesh beneath his fingertips. The slight tremble of her slim body beneath the blanket. She’d come so close to death…. His control hovered just beyond his reach. A jab of panic made him pull his hand away from her. His tremors deepened. His stomach clenched. He didn’t want her to see him like this.
Without answering, he rose and walked toward the Suburban. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. His legs felt wobbly. On reaching the truck, he put both hands against the hood and leaned forward. He felt nauseous, as if someone had kicked him in the gut.
“Nick.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t turn around to look at her. Didn’t even have the strength to tell her to stay away. He just stood there breathing hard, sweating, fighting the panic and whatever else gripped him so tightly that he couldn’t move without falling into a heap at her feet.
“Hey,” she said gently, “are you okay?”
He jumped when she came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to tell her to get back under the blanket. To lie down because she could be in shock and not even realize it. That she could have a spinal injury or a head injury and have yet to feel the pain.
Instead, he leaned against the truck, shaking, unable to face her because he didn’t want her to see the truth his expression held. “Stay away,” he said in a low voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“For crying out loud, McNeal, you shouldn’t be up and walking around.”
“I need to know if you’re all right,” she whispered.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking—”
“Forget it.”
The wail of a siren in the distance broke the tension that had risen between them. The sound sent a flutter of relief through Nick. He told himself it was because he wanted her to get checked out as soon as possible. But he knew part of the reason he didn’t want to be alone with her was because he didn’t want her to prod the wound that had just been reopened.
Knowing he couldn’t avoid the inevitable, clamping his jaws to keep his expression neutral, he slowly turned to her. His knees went weak at the sight of her tears. They shook him to his foundation, sent the last of his resistance out the window. With an oath, he crossed the distance between them. He didn’t remember reaching for her. He didn’t remember enveloping her in his arms. All he knew was that the feel of her against him was so right it brought tears to his own eyes, and made him want to protect her from the world, even if she didn’t want it that way.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, pressing his face against her hair and breathing in her scent. “You’re safe. You’re with me. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine.” He swallowed, fighting for control, hating it that the accident had scraped him raw and left him bleeding.
“You don’t look fine to me.”
“One catastrophe at a time, McNeal, all right?” Pulling back slightly, he looked into her eyes, trying not to tumble into their green depths. “You weren’t crying or anything after you left my place, were you?”
“Nick, this wasn’t your fault,” she said firmly.
He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he let it slide. He didn’t want to take on any guilt. He had enough emotions to deal with just knowing how differently things could have turned out. “What happened?” he asked after a moment.
Her eyes were luminous and incredibly large in the pale frame of her face. When she opened her mouth to speak, her lips trembled. “I think it was a professional hit.”
* * *
Nick paced the emergency room hall, high-grade anxiety pumping through him with each beat of his heart.
I think it was a professional hit.
Erin’s words rang like a death knell in his ears. He wished he was surprised, but he wasn’t. Not after the incident at the school. A hundred unanswered questions tumbled through his mind. Simultaneously, the need to protect her rose inside him in a violent tide that threatened his viselike grip on control.
Who wanted Erin McNeal dead?
“Chief Ryan?”
Nick spun at the on-call doctor’s voice. “How is she?”
The doctor came through the double doors of the emergency room and stopped next to Nick. “She’s very lucky. A few bruises and cuts. CAT scan looks good. X rays are normal. We’re waiting for blood tests, but I think she’s good to go home. You can talk to her now.”
A spiral of relief tunneled through him. “Thanks, Doc.”
Turning, Nick shoved through the emergency room doors. He scanned the room, his gaze drawn to the woman lying on the gurney in the corner. Something warm loosened in his chest when her gaze met his. Then her mouth curved in a tentative smile, and despite his worry and the questions buzzing around inside his head, he couldn’t keep from smiling back.
Never taking his gaze from hers, he approached the gurney. “Has anyone ever called you a trouble magnet, McNeal?”
Her smile widened to a grin. “What do you think?”
“If I wasn’t so glad you’re all right, I’d probably chew you out just for the hell of it.”
“You actually smiled a little when you saw me. I think that’s a good sign.” Surprising him, she raised her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “I didn’t realize you worried so much.”
Nick winced at the contact, knowing she was referring to his emotional reaction back at the accident scene, but he didn’t step back. Every pleasure center in his body focused on that small, warm contact.
“You have a really nice smile, Chief. You should try it more often.”
Low-level shock rippled through him, mingling with the pleasure of her touch, and went straight to a place he knew better than to acknowledge now. Only then did he notice her slightly dilated pupils and realized the doctor had probably given her something for pain. Just what he needed: a sexy, vulnerable deputy he was attracted to beyond reason in need of protection. Terrific. “You’re high as a kite,” he grumbled.
“I may be…medicated, but I can plainly see that you have a nice smile.” Sighing, she relaxed back into the pillow. “And you smell really, really good.”
Not knowing what to say to that, feeling the back of his neck heat—and another part of his anatomy follow suit—he grasped her hand and lowered it to the gurney. “We need to talk,” he said. “Think you can answer some questions?”
Her gaze skittered away. “All right.”
Compassion stirred in his chest when he realized she wasn’t quite ready to relive the incident. He wished he didn’t have to put her through it, but he couldn’t let it go. He figured neither of them had a choice in the matter.
“I need to know what happened,” he said. “I also need a description of the car so I can notify the highway patrol.”
“Sure.” He watched her force her cop’s mask into place. “Black Lincoln. Four-door. Maybe a 2000 model. Illinois plates. There’s a big dent on the right front quarter panel.”
“Dent?” His interest piqued. “The car hit your cruiser?”
She nodded. “The bumper, and the rear quarter panel.”
“I’ll see if I can get someone out here from the state lab to lift some paint. That might help us nail down the make and model.” He grimaced. “What about the driver?”
“I only saw the passenger.”
“Can you give me a description?”
“Caucasian male with dark hair. Maybe forty years old. I didn’t get a good look. I mean, he had this shotgun aimed right at my head….” Her voice trembled with the lastword.
Nick looked away, giving her a moment to regroup. He didn’t like the way this was shaping up. Who would be trying to hurt this woman? Someone from her past? An acquaintance? A crazy? Or was there something more ominous in the works?
He looked down at her, felt another stir of compassion. She wasn’t crying. He knew she wouldn’t cry now. Not Erin McNeal the cop. But even that didn’t diminish the vulnerability he saw. She was pale. Shaking. But she never let on that she was scared. Not for one second, and his respect for her—which was already sky-high—kicked up another notch.
“You’re doing fine, Erin.”
“Hey, it was just a little wreck. Of course I’m fine.” She said the words with a little too much enthusiasm.
Nick sighed, not bothering to point out the “little wreck,” as she’d put it, could have cost her her life.
“The doc isn’t going to keep me here, is he, Nick?”
“You got something against hospitals, McNeal?”
“Only when I’m in them. Do you think you could take me home now?” she asked. “If I get poked one more time I’m afraid I’m going to have to draw my weapon and start shooting doctors.”
He forced a smile at her attempted humor, wondering if the repercussions of what had happened had penetrated the fog of shock and medication. “I’ll take you home,” he said. “We can talk there.”
* * *
Even through the haze of medication, every muscle in Erin’s body ached with a vengeance by the time they reached her apartment.
Nick opened the door, then motioned toward the sofa. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get you a blanket, then I’m going to make some coffee.”
Without protest, she limped to the sofa and eased onto a cushion. Hugging a throw pillow to her chest, she pulled her legs under her, and tried not to think about how close she’d come to getting seriously hurt—or worse.
The incident had done more than shake her physically. Her confidence had taken another direct hit. She didn’t like feeling so…helpless. She certainly didn’t like feeling threatened. The instant she’d seen that shotgun pointed in her direction, Erin had been bombarded with a hefty dose of both.
The clatter of dishes in the kitchen drew her attention to Nick, and she sighed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was glad he was there. He represented solidity in a wild, unpredictable sea of too much emotion and not enough fact—elements Erin could do without in her present state.
From her perch on the sofa, she watched him stride from the kitchen to her bedroom. Erin tried not to notice the controlled grace with which he moved, or the underlying restlessness that surrounded him like a dark aura. He seemed thoughtful tonight. Edgy. Unsettled. She wondered if any of those things had to do with the way he’d reacted at the accident scene. Nick wasn’t the kind of man to let something like a car wreck shake him. She wanted to think he’d been shaken up because he’d been worried about her, but the more logical side of her knew that wasn’t the case. He’d been thinking of Rita, she realized. Erin knew firsthand the face of grief, and saw clearly the mark it had left on this man’s heart.
He returned a moment later with the comforter from her bed and draped it over her. “Is your head clear enough for you to answer some questions?” he asked. “The coffee is going to be a few minutes.”
She nodded, knowing it was silly to think she could delay talking about what had happened. She was a cop. She was going to have to face the fact that someone had tried to kill her. Then she was going to have to do something about it.
“I need to know everything.” He dropped into the love seat across from her and looked at her expectantly. “Details. Descriptions. Possible motives.”
Erin told him about the black Lincoln, the passenger with the shotgun, and how her cruiser had been run off the road. Nick listened intently, making an occasional notation in his notepad, his dark eyes watchful and razor sharp.
When she finished, he went to the kitchen for their coffee, then took his place across from her again. “That’s not the kind of crime we normally see here in Logan Falls.”
“I know.”
“That’s happened twice since you’ve been in town. First, the dark sedan tries to run you down at the school crossing, and now this. Both of them had Illinois plates. What do you make of it?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, bringing the cup to her lips and sipping. “Seems a little coincidental, doesn’t it?”
“Makes me wonder why someone is trying to kill you.”
The words jolted her, even though they’d been expected. “I was a police officer for nine years. I worked narcotics for a year. Maybe I ticked someone off. Maybe someone I put away got out of prison. I don’t know.”
Nick didn’t look happy about the scenario. Rising, he strode to the kitchen and snatched up the phone. She watched him as he called in a description of the vehicle and put out an all points bulletin with the highway patrol.
Erin couldn’t quite believe this man had so many facets. One moment he was hard and uncompromising, the next exquisitely gentle. The same man who chewed her out on a regular basis could also kiss her senseless, and take her self-control apart bit by bit with those long, magical fingers of his.
He still wore his uniform, and she found her eyes drawn to the wide span of his shoulders, his muscular forearms, the way his torso tapered to narrow hips and runner’s legs. The top button of his shirt was open, revealing a layer of fine, black hair. She wondered what it would be like to part that shirt and run her fingers along that pelt of hair to the hard muscles of his abdomen. She wondered if he would resist her. If he would pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was intoxicated with pleasure. She stared, fascinated, appalled that she was openly fantasizing about a man she could never have a relationship with.
Hanging up the phone, he walked back to the living room and took the love seat across from her. “Is there anything you haven’t told me?” he asked. “A convict recently released from prison? A personal vendetta? Anything like that?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What about the shooting you were involved in six months ago?”
She should have anticipated the question, but it jarred her with unexpected force. The warehouse. Danny. The mistake she would never live down. Oh, how she wanted to put all that behind her. “I’ve already considered the possibility of a connection,” she said. “It doesn’t pan out. What happened that night doesn’t warrant any kind of…vendetta.”
“Most shootings don’t make a lot of sense, when it comes right down to it.” Leaning forward, Nick set his cup on the coffee table between them and hit her with a narrow-eyed look. “I need to know exactly what happened that night, Erin.”
She gripped her mug and concentrated on the warmth radiating into her icy fingers. “Like I told you before, I botched a bust and got myself shot. Danny got hit. I hit one of the perps—”
“Who?”
“We never identified him. He was gone by the time backup arrived.”
“How do you know for sure you hit him?”
“There was quite a bit of blood at the scene, but no suspect and no body.”
Interest flared in his expression. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Nick, but none of what happened that night is relevant to what happened today. It happened months ago, in another city, and we have nothing that ties the two incidents together.”
“No ties we can see. You know as well as I do that we can’t rule out a connection.” His jaw flexed. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
Erin knew she’d made him angry for not being up front from the beginning, but she didn’t like dredging up what had happened that night. She wanted to put it to rest, wanted to put it behind her so badly she could barely bring herself to think about it, let alone discuss it.
“Tell me the whole story. Now. No holds barred.”
She flinched at the steel in his voice. “I’ve already told you what happened.”
“You left out a few crucial details, McNeal. Now spill the rest of it.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“I’ve got all night.”
She’d thought she was prepared. But the swirl of shame in the pit of her stomach told her how much it was going to hurt to see the condemnation in Nick’s eyes when she told him the truth. She didn’t want to believe his opinion had become so important to her. But it had. And she knew then what the truth would cost her. His respect, she realized. The tentative friendship they’d formed. Whatever it was that had been burgeoning between them since the moment she’d walked in the door of the police department and he’d leveled her with those dark, dangerous eyes of his. Until now, she hadn’t even realized how precious those things had become—and the realization thoroughly stunned her.
“Danny and I got an anonymous tip that there was going to be a drug buy in a warehouse down on the South Side. A few pounds of black tar heroin. Some cash. It was routine stuff. We were both pretty sure of ourselves back then. Cocky. A little too fond of the rush.” The laugh that squeezed from her throat held no humor. “We went in alone. No Drug Enforcement Agency. No backup. We wanted all the credit.”
The memory crystallized. The anticipation. The exhilaration. Then the crushing blow of disaster. “Danny went in first—two, maybe three minutes before me. I waited until the last minute, then radioed for backup. I went in through the rear. We should have waited. We should have…” Her words trailed off as the weight of their mistakes pressed down on her. “Things went awry from the start. By the time I got inside, two men already had Danny down on the floor. They were well dressed. Armed to the hilt. Calm.” Her voice sounded strangely foreign in the dead silence of her apartment. “They were going to kill him,” she said. “Execution style. A cop, for God’s sake. Just like that.”
A shiver swept the length of her, and she realized with some surprise that her teeth were chattering. She hadn’t expected the retelling of that night to be quite so difficult. Not after all this time. But it took every ounce of strength she possessed to continue.
“I couldn’t let them kill my partner.” Her eyes met Nick’s. For the life of her, she couldn’t guess what was going on in the depths of that cool, emotionless gaze. In light of what she was about to tell him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “I was outnumbered. Outgunned. But I wanted that bust. I didn’t care about the risks. I didn’t consider the possibility that someone might get hurt.” In her mind’s eye, she saw clearly the terror on Danny’s face. She recalled her own terror with such stark clarity that she could feel her heart beating out of control, her breath coming shallow and fast, the oxygen stalling in her lungs. “I drew my weapon and ordered the men to drop their guns and get on the ground.”
Nick stared at her, his expression intense. “What happened next?”
“There were only supposed to be two of them. That’s what Danny’s snitch had told him. He’d been reliable in the past. I didn’t see the man on the catwalk until it was too late.” The horror of that moment crept over her like an avalanche, cold and smothering. “He came out of nowhere. I looked up at the catwalk, and…like I told you before, he was just a kid. Sixteen, maybe seventeen years old. He smiled at me. That freaked me out.” Leaning forward, Erin put her face in her hands, trying to shut out the images, the blood, the guilt. “He had a gun, Nick. I should have stopped him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot that kid. All my training—none of it mattered because I didn’t have the courage to stop him. I just stood there like a stupid rookie while he raised his pistol and shot me down.”
Across from her Nick cursed.
“I fired as I went down—and hit him, evidently—but by the time I got my senses back, one of the other two men had already shot Danny in the back.”
“You’re certain you shot the suspect?” he asked.
“Yes. I saw him fall from the catwalk.”
She closed her eyes against the wave of emotion. She hated the thought of telling him the rest of it. In a small corner of her mind she wondered how he was going to react when he found out she’d traded her own life for her partner’s.
“I could have stopped it. Had I reacted like a cop, I could have prevented both of us from getting hit.”
“Hindsight is twenty—”
“Danny got shot because I didn’t have the guts to do the right thing.”
“You were under fire,” he said. “If you weren’t scared at a moment like that, you wouldn’t be human.”
“I wanted the bust so badly I didn’t use good judgment. When the chips fell and things went awry, I panicked. I shot the kid, but only when it came down to saving my own neck. I didn’t do the same for Danny. I didn’t back up my partner. My God, that’s unforgivable….” Her voice broke.
The ensuing quiet bore down on her with the weight of the world. Shame slashed her with the efficiency of a switchblade as the echo of the words she hated to the depth of her soul resounded inside her head.
I didn’t back up my partner.
Steeling herself against the condemnation she expected to see in Nick’s expression, Erin risked a look at him. To her utter surprise the only thing she saw was understanding.
“You did your best, McNeal. That’s all any of us can do. You hesitated because the suspect was a kid. That’s a tough call.”
“A kid with a gun isn’t any less dangerous than an adult.”
“True, but the use of deadly force is never an easy decision for a cop, especially if there’s a kid involved and you have a split second to decide whether or not to end his life.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Erin looked down at her hands, pressed them hard against the pillow to keep them from shaking. “You make it sound as if it’s all right.”
“Maybe it’s not all right,” he said. “You had two choices and neither of them were easy. That’s hard to accept, but we have to, because we don’t have a say in the matter, Erin.”
“Danny’s paralyzed,” she said. “He’ll never work as a police officer again, not on the street. I can’t help but ask myself, did I do that to him? I see that same question in his eyes every time I see him. He doesn’t say it. He’s too good a man to lay blame. But I see it. I see it in his wife’s eyes. I see it in his children’s eyes. And I feel it in my own heart every time I think about what happened that night.” She raised her shimmering gaze to his. “So, tell me, Nick, did life go on for Danny?”