I open the door and see a police officer. My heart is pounding against my chest, and my head is spinning as adrenaline surges into me. I’m the kind of woman who freaks the hell out when a cop is driving behind her. Even if I’m going 5 MPH under the speed limit.

“Yes?” I ask.

My voice sounded guilty, didn’t it? Crap.

“Hello, ma’am,” he says. “I’m Detective Napier. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“Um,” I mumble. “I’m fine?”

Why would a cop come to my door to see if I’m okay? How does that make any sense? Unless he’s suspicious of me.

I shoot him a confused look, and he takes his hat off and tucks it under his arm. “Sorry, maybe I should explain.”

I nod. “Please do.”

“We’re on a manhunt,” he says. “For this fellow who murdered two people in cold blood.”

My blood turns to ice. With Alex out of sight, and knowing he’s a wanted man, there’s an urge to just tell the cop everything. Honestly, what am I doing trying to protect a criminal?”

“Oh,” I say, trying to sound surprised. God, I’m a terrible actress.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Seems you’ve heard of him?”

“Uh,” I say. “Maybe I heard it in the background, from the TV. Something about it?”

He takes a step forward. “You mind if I just come in and have a look around. See if everything is okay?”

I shake my head and step forward to block the doorway. “Everything is fine here.”

“Is it now?” he asks. “Looks like you missed your training, and you don’t look sick to me.”

Shit. That’s right, I had a 3-hour training class I was supposed to go to at work today. I was pissed they scheduled it so soon after my 12-hour shift, but after the run-in with Alex, I forgot entirely. How did he even know that? It means he checked with the hospital about me. It means he’s suspected me and tracked me down. Someone must have seen Alex getting into my car.

“I was exhausted,” I say.

“You didn’t call in,” he says. “I checked. Did you stop on your way home last night? Near the forest?”

My mouth opens, but I don’t say anything.

“Why don’t I just come in and look around?” he says. “This Hightower fellow. He’s a real charmer. The kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be a killer. You can’t let that fool you though, he’s really dangerous. It wouldn’t surprise me if an innocent girl like you fell for his innocent act. If you did help him, and let’s say you were hiding him here, as long as you came clean now you wouldn’t get in any trouble.”

His voice sounds friendly, but he looks at me with a hard expression. He cocks his head as if impatiently waiting for my confession.

“Someone said they saw a Prius–just like the one parked in your driveway, same color and all–stopped on the roadside by the woods. It’s near where Hightower was last seen. They didn’t see Hightower himself, but they definitely saw your car.”

“Do...do you have warrant?” I ask.

He turns ice cold as soon as I say that word. “I’ll be back with one real soon,” he says. “And you will not get off easy if you make me get one. I’ll bring the full letter of the law down on you.”

“No one is here, Detective,” I say, my voice finally sounding strong and assertive. “It was not my car. I drove straight home.”

The words just kind of fall out of my mouth. My natural instinct is to just hand Alex over. I tried to help him, but I got caught and failed. If he’s really innocent, then the truth will come out and he’ll be okay.

So why did I just lie to the damn police?

“Have it your way,” he says, putting his hat back on. “You’ll be begging me for mercy later.”

He turns his back to me and walks toward his car.

I shut the door and head toward the basement, but Alex bursts out and grabs me.

He pushes me against the wall, and our eyes lock together.

“Why?” he asks. HIs voice is pained. “He knew too much. You should have turned me in.”

I shake my head. “You didn’t do it.”

“I told you I’m not innocent,” he growls.

Every month or so we get a patient in the ER who is under police supervision. In the years I’ve worked as an ER nurse, I’ve come across dozens of them. Most of them are in for minor injuries that we need to treat before they are transferred to jail or prison. Some have knife or gunshot wounds–more serious injuries that require longer stays.

There’s one common thread I’ve found from all of those people. All of those criminals. Each and every one told me he was innocent. That he didn’t do it.

Alex is the first man who has told me he’s not innocent, who refused to say that he didn’t do it.

“Tell me you did it,” I say. “Look me in the eye and say you killed those men.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “I’m not innocent, Angel.”

“You keep trying to act like you did it,” I say. “But you can’t lie to me, can you? As much as you want me to think you did it, you can’t bring yourself to say that you did.”

His hand moves up to my neck, and then his hard fingers find the soft underside of my chin. He squeezes and pulls my chin up toward him. I feel my chest ready to burst. Fear and exhilaration and longing are all fighting within me, but neither emotion can come out on top. I exist only as a jumble of all three, a perfect combination that makes me want that hand to move back to my neck and squeeze. To threaten to choke the air out of me. I’ve never liked it rough like that, but from him I want it desperately.

He leans forward into me. I’d lean into him, but he’s pressed me so hard against the wall I can’t resist. I instead just spread my lips to signal my willingness to him, and as I see him begin to tilt his head, I close my eyes in expectation of his kiss.

His lips press against mine, and I try to move my body into him, but he’s still pinning me to the wall–his forearm pressed against my upper chest. I dig my fingers into his strong arm pressed into me, and with my other hand I find his wide back. His tongue slides into my mouth, and the full force of his masculine scent overpowers me. His taste fills my mouth, and leaves me hungry–starving–for more. I find myself sucking on his tongue and biting at his lip. The hunger for him is raw and intense. My nails dig into his arm and his arms slides down my body and squeezes my ass. I pull my shoulders back and press my breasts against his hard abs.

My chest is all butterflies. I feel ready to laugh and giggle and gasp for breath. I just did something so incredibly and monumentally stupid. I lied to the cops about the criminal murderer hiding in my basement...and now I’m kissing him. And it feels too good to stop.

But it’s him who pulls away and breaks the kiss. The absence of him becomes a deep void in my gut, an unquenched thirst. I try to pull him back, but he squeezes my neck and presses me back into the wall.

I become instantly wet. Soaking wet and hot. This is what I’d fantasized about. The fantasy I never knew I’d even had. He squeezes just enough that I struggle to breathe.