CHAPTER 10
Nick was no stranger to guilt, or the hell it could bring down on someone’s life. He considered himself an expert on the subject. After all, he’d lived with his own twisted version for three long years. He knew firsthand the way guilt battered the mind and ravaged the spirit, much the same way cancer invaded, then ate away at the body.
That Erin McNeal suffered the same debilitating affliction over an event that hadn’t been under her control disturbed him deeply. That he’d been so hard on her early on—and dead set against hiring her for a job she was clearly qualified for—sent a different kind of guilt tumbling through the wall he’d sworn he wouldn’t let anyone penetrate.
“Did you try to ID the suspect you shot?” he asked.
“The hospital check didn’t pan out—none of the area emergency rooms had reported a gunshot wound. The lab typed the blood. DNA tests were run, but there wasn’t a match in the national database.”
He nodded, realizing the Chicago PD had reached a dead end at that point. He and Erin had, too. If there was a connection between the warehouse shooting and the incident out at the Logan Creek bridge today, they weren’t going to find it anytime soon.
Damn, he hated dead ends.
“You know what happened to Danny wasn’t your fault, don’t you?” he asked.
A smile whispered across her features, as soft and fleeting as a summer breeze. “So I’ve been told.”
“But you don’t believe it.”
Her gaze faltered, and she looked down at her hands, stilled them. “The last time I went to see Danny, he wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye.”
Nick wanted to go to her, but he resisted the urge. Touching her was dangerous business under the best of circumstances. To touch her now would surely lead to disaster. He wanted to comfort her, but at the moment he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to pull away. Not when her intoxicating scent filled the small space around them, and he could still vividly remember the feel of her in his arms. The softness of her flesh. The taste of her mouth. He knew better than to pour gasoline on red-hot embers.
“Danny didn’t expect you to take a bullet for him,” he growled. “No cop expects that.”
“He expected me to back him up. Let’s face it, Nick, for a cop, I committed the ultimate sin.”
“And you’re going to make damn sure you pay for it, aren’t you, McNeal? You punish yourself with guilt. You take crazy risks. Have you ever bothered to think of the people you’ll hurt if something happens to you?”
Her mouth tightened. “Don’t try your tough-love routine on me, okay, Chief?”
“You did your best. That’s all any cop can do.”
“Tell Danny that. Tell his wife. Better yet, tell his kids that when they ask their dad to play ball with them and Danny has to tell them he’ll never get up out of that chair—”
“Stop it,” he said harshly.
Across from him, Erin stared at him, her hands gripping the pillow. “He hates me,” she choked out.
“He hates what happened to him,” Nick said. “That doesn’t mean he hates you. That doesn’t mean he blames you.”
“Frank pulled me—”
“Frank pulled you off the street to keep you safe. He knew you needed some time to recover. He didn’t pull you because you were a bad cop.”
He watched her emotional dam fracture with all the restraint he’d come to expect from Erin. Tears welled and overflowed, but she didn’t utter a sound. She blinked rapidly. Her throat quivered with a forced swallow. Why couldn’t she just let it out and be done with it? Why did she always have to be so tough?
Compassion tightened his own throat at her show of strength. But that sense of compassion was spiked with the dreaded awareness that at some point he’d come to care for her. The knowledge swirled in his head like a stray bullet, cutting him, penetrating a part of him he’d sworn to never again lay open to a woman. How could he let that happen now? How could he let himself care for Erin McNeal? A woman who would do nothing but put him through the wringer with her impulsive behavior and recklessness. A woman who’d already touched his daughter’s heart.
A woman who’d gotten dangerously close to his own.
The realization stunned him. Terrified him. Threatened every emotional wall he’d so diligently built around himself.
A sudden need for space sent him to his feet. Without looking at her, he strode to the other side of the room. He needed distance. Dammit, why did it have to be this woman who could topple his defenses without even trying, and make him want her so badly he shook with the need to touch her? Why did it have to be Erin McNeal who was everything that would ultimately destroy him if he got any closer?
Raking a hand through his hair, he stared unseeing into the kitchen, not sure what to do next. He knew if he turned around and looked into her eyes, he would go to her. He would wrap his arms around her trembling shoulders and simply hold her until the tremors stopped. Only he wouldn’t stop with just holding her this time. He wouldn’t stop with just a kiss. He wanted all of her, and he wasn’t sure how much longer his control would last.
Nick figured he was getting pretty good at playing with fire.
“Nick?”
Ignoring the alarm blaring in the back of his mind, he slowly turned. His heart knotted in his chest when her gaze met his. In that instant, he saw too much, too clearly. Her beauty took his breath. Her vulnerability called out to his instinctive need to protect. At the same time, her strength demanded his respect.
The combination completely undid him.
And in the soft depths of her gaze, he saw his own fate.
She hadn’t moved from her place on the sofa. He started toward her before he even realized he’d made the decision to hold her. Her expression turned wary, but she didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact.
Dropping to his knees in front of her, he reached for her. Her welcoming sigh shredded the last of his control. Wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders, he pulled her to him. Her scent infused his brain, taunting his weaker side, intoxicating the rest him. Vaguely, he was aware of her arms going around him. His name on her lips. And then she was against him. Warm. Soft. Driving him slowly to insanity.
“It hurts, Nick, knowing I’m responsible for what happened to Danny. It won’t stop hurting.”
“It’s okay to hurt, McNeal. Go ahead and let go of it. Let it out.”
“I’m trying, but it just keeps getting all tangled up inside me.”
“I’ll help you untangle it.” Pulling back slightly, he gazed into her soft eyes and felt an unwanted emotion shift and then free fall. “First we’ve got to figure out who’s trying to hurt you. Then we’ll deal with what’s going on inside that head of yours. One disaster at a time. All right?”
She choked out a laugh. “You’re the only person I’ve ever talked to who understands.”
“We probably know some of the same demons,” he said.
“I guess it’s a small world when it comes to demons, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.” Her eyes were so clear he thought he could see all the way to her soul. But he also saw questions lurking there, and pulled back just in time to keep himself from falling headlong into that incredible gaze, afraid he might not ever surface. Afraid he might not ever want to.
“The accident this afternoon,” she began. “It made you remember, didn’t it?”
For a split second, he considered denying it. Mostly because he didn’t want to discuss it, didn’t like dealing with that painful old wound. But she was right, and they both knew it. His demons had been there this afternoon. Taunting him. Torturing him. Making him remember until he ached with the memory of another car accident that had forever changed his life.
“There are some things you never stop remembering,” he said. “Even when you want to. Even after you’re healed.”
“Are you healed?”
He figured he was about as healed as a man could get after living through the hell of losing a mate. The grief was no longer like a raging beast cut loose inside him. At some point in the last months, the pain had softened to a dull ache that came and went like a capricious illness. Still, he didn’t like having that ache probed, certainly not by a woman who threatened to tear the newly formed scar wide open.
Without answering, he rose and eased onto the sofa beside her. As if it were the most natural reaction in the world, Erin leaned against him and laid her head on his shoulder.
“I know what happened today must have been rough for you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not like you had a choice in the matter, McNeal.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He’d known she would eventually ask. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, talking about his dead wife to a woman he was attracted to beyond his good judgment and miles beyond his common sense. A woman whose recklessness stood between them as tangibly as a brick wall.
“Rita’s accident happened not far from where you went off the road this afternoon,” he began. “Seeing your cruiser down by that creek shook me up.”
“Oh, Nick, that must have been terrible for you.”
“I’m all right, McNeal. I’ve been all right for a long time.”
“How did it happen?”
Nick took a deep, fortifying breath. “Rita liked to have fun. Only her idea of a good time was pretty extreme. Hell, I had to rappel down into a cave once when she got into a tight spot and couldn’t get out.” The fact that he could think of her and smile surprised him. It also surprised him that at some point in the last months, he’d lost the ability to conjure up her face the way he used to. He wondered what that meant in terms of healing. He wondered what that meant in terms of his relationship with Erin.
“I can’t tell you how many times we fought about her driving too fast,” he continued. “Because of Stephanie, mostly. Because I worried. It was almost as if Rita liked to gamble with fate. Always made me wonder how much value she put on what we had. Our marriage. Our daughter.” He shot Erin a hard look. “Rita was irresponsible as hell. Headstrong to a fault. It took a toll on our marriage, but I loved her anyway.
“As a cop, I knew the stats. And I knew her card would come up one day. But Rita was invincible—or so she thought. Always said she wanted to stay twenty-nine forever. On her thirtieth birthday, I bought her a car. Not just any car, but a convertible. It was small. Fast. And made for speed. It was exactly what she wanted. It was exactly what she didn’t need.”
Nick had expected the punch of grief to be brutal. To his surprise, it wasn’t. At some point, the pain had softened to a melancholy ache that was no longer savage in its intensity.
“Two weeks later, we had a fight. I don’t even remember what it was about. Something unimportant, more than likely. But we were both angry. She took Steph and went for a drive.” Nick broke off, aware that his heart rate was up. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure why he was recounting the details of that afternoon, but now that he’d opened the floodgates, he couldn’t stop the flow.
“I was the first to reach her.”
“Oh, Nick.”
He jolted when Erin took his hand, and he drew strength from her. “Rita was pinned inside. Unconscious. I knew right away she was in a bad way. Steph was in the back seat, crying. I remember thanking God they were alive. I thought—” His voice broke as the emotions burst through the barriers he’d erected and fortified.
Vaguely, he was aware of Erin squeezing his hand. The contact was warm. Reassuring. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone reassure him. He wasn’t certain why her touch at that moment meant so much to him, but it did. He accepted it, absorbed her strength, trying not to think of the meaning behind his ability to do so.
“I managed to get Steph calmed down, but by the time I got to Rita…” His voice trailed off, but he took another deep breath and continued. “She never regained consciousness. She died in my arms.”
* * *
Erin’s vision blurred as the tears built in her eyes. Mrs. Thornberry hadn’t told her that Nick had been the one to buy Rita the convertible. She hadn’t realized he’d been shouldering so much guilt, and she felt his pain as if it were her own. The sheer power of it struck her like a fist, taking her breath away.
Nick stared straight ahead, his jaw set. She couldn’t stand to see him that way. Hurting. Isolated. Blaming himself for something that wasn’t his fault.
She didn’t plan to reach for him. She knew that wasn’t what either of them wanted. But on a deeper level, she knew that was exactly what they needed.
Turning to him, she pressed the backs of her fingers to his jaw. “That must have been devastating, Nick. I’m so sorry.”
“It was tough for both Stephanie and me. But we’ve moved on. We’re doing all right.”
“Do you still love Rita?”
“Part of me will always love her. We had a lot of good years together. But when I close my eyes, I don’t see her face anymore like I used to. I don’t smell her perfume when I enter a room. I don’t wake up in the night thinking she’s lying beside me.”
Erin couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a soul mate. She’d always thought she’d loved Warren all those years ago. Only now, faced with this man’s grief, did she realize they hadn’t even come close.
It was clear to her Nick still loved his wife deeply and needed more time before he was ready to move into another relationship. Erin wasn’t sure why that knowledge disturbed her so much. A relationship was the last thing she needed in her own life. It was the last thing Nick needed, too. Neither of them were ready. The realization should have relieved her, but it didn’t.
“This might sound odd in light of everything you’ve gone through, Nick, but I think you’re actually a very lucky man.”
“How’s that?”
“A lot of people go through life never knowing what love is. Somehow, I think that’s the ultimate failure.”
“Or maybe the ultimate failure is watching that love slip away when there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
“When it comes to matters of the heart, most times control doesn’t enter the picture,” she pointed out.
He cocked his head, his eyes darkening as his gaze raked over her. “If you want to keep your sanity, you keep your control no matter what.”
Erin sensed they were no longer talking in generalities, but about the spark that threatened to burst into flames every time he looked at her, every time he spoke her name, every time he touched her.
“Maybe control isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be,” she whispered.
Nick looked alarmed for an instant, then his mouth curved in an amused half smile. “I think those painkillers gave you a loose tongue, McNeal.”
Embarrassment washed over her. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it, but she didn’t think it was the medication. Maybe because she wanted to deal with whatever was happening between them. Tonight seemed to be the night for clearing the air. The problem was she didn’t think either of them were thinking about clearing the air at the moment. There were too many emotions. Too many ghosts. Too many sensations coming all at once, and she was as overloaded as a circuit breaker in an electrical storm.
“The doctor gave me a mild muscle relaxant, and for your information my head’s as clear as a bell,” she said.
“Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you if you were mentally incapacitated.”
The words sent a nervous laugh tumbling out of her when she realized that was exactly how she felt every time she was with him. Mentally incapacitated—and bound and determined to make a mistake that would cost her greatly.
“Your eyes are dilated,” he whispered.
“I don’t think that’s because of the muscle relaxers, either.” Raising her hand, she touched his jaw with her fingertips.
He winced at the contact, his gaze darkening, intensifying. “Ah, McNeal, I should have known you liked to play with fire.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” she asked.
“That’s exactly what you’re doing, and we’re both loony to be even considering it. I don’t think either of us needs to get burned.” Intertwining their fingers, he slowly lowered her hand, then released her. “I’d better go before we both become pyromaniacs.”
“Or risk spontaneous combustion,” she whispered, but her words held no conviction. Maybe because the thought of that kind of heat intrigued her more than it should have. Maybe because she wasn’t sure what she wanted. The only thing she knew for certain was that his touch was electric, and her body was conducting that electricity to every pleasure center in her brain.
Logic told her to get up and see him to the door. He was right. But they weren’t just playing with fire; they were playing with a stick of dynamite with a short fuse that would leave them both in pieces if it exploded. Nothing but heartache would come from any of this.
But when his gaze met hers, she knew the race was done. She had no idea who’d won or lost. Oddly, she no longer cared. The only thing that mattered now were the short, dangerous inches separating them, and who was going to bridge the gap.
Leaning closer, Nick drew her to him with slow, agonizing deliberation. Erin let herself be guided, anticipation and dread locked in mortal combat. His lips touched hers with devastating gentleness. A warning blasted in her brain even as the need twisted inside her. Then his mouth was warm and firm against hers as he coaxed her into submission.
He’s in love with a memory.
The warning faded beneath the onslaught of pleasure. When he probed her mouth with his tongue, she opened, wanting more. Growling low in his throat, he went in deep, tasting her, devouring the last of her restraint.
Sensation assaulted every inch of her body. Erin felt lost. Afloat on a tiny raft in the midst of a raging sea. One more emotion, one more sensation, and she would be flung over the side, never to be found. But the dark, mysterious depths beckoned her, and she was helpless to resist, like a sea-weary sailor lured by a siren onto treacherous rocks that would send his ship to the bottom of the sea.
Nick cupped her face. Angling her head, he kissed her deeply, possessively. Erin reached for him, her arms encircling his neck. Her hand swept down the length of his back, feeling hard-as-steel muscle quivering with restraint.
“This isn’t a very good idea,” he murmured. “But you’re so damn irresistible.”
His voice barely reached her through the roar of blood in her ears. Before her befuddled brain could register a reply, his mouth swooped down again. He kissed her with ruthless skill until she was shaking and weak with desire. Never taking his mouth from hers, he lifted her, easing her more fully onto the sofa. Erin leaned back into the pillows, her every sense honed as he came down on top of her.
A gasp escaped her when he lay full length against her. Bracing himself with his arms to keep his weight from crushing her, he deepened the kiss, ravaging her mouth. She opened to him, her tongue warring with his. Lust rippled low in her belly when she felt his hardness against her hip. Heat spiked lower, burning her until she thought she could no longer bear it. Instinct took over. She opened her legs. He moved in, arching against her. Her body reacted with dizzying intensity. Her control fled. She felt intoxicated, as if she were high on some powerful drug she would never get enough of.
A thousand reasons why she shouldn’t make love to this man stormed her brain. He was everything she didn’t want. Too strong. Too protective. He couldn’t handle her being a cop. He only wanted sex, not a real, lasting relationship. But for Pete’s sake, she wanted sex. Anything to staunch the fire that threatened to burn out of control.
Erin knew better than to give in to desire, but the need in her heart and the heat in her body destroyed the voice of reason. She relinquished control, felt it tumble away, and gave her body over to the flames.