Everything inside her froze into a solid ball of ice. Reaching out, she stilled the bag with her gloves, then turned to Nick. For the first time, she saw the anger smoldering like hot coals in his eyes.
“Frank filled me in on your little secret,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
She didn’t know what to say. “I know how this might look to you, but—”
“For crying out loud, don’t play dumb, McNeal. It’s insulting, and you don’t do it very well.” A humorless smile twisted his mouth. “You lied to me. You figured out DiCarlo wanted you dead the day the sedan hit you at the crosswalk, only you didn’t see fit to discuss it with me, did you?”
“I didn’t lie to you—”
“You shot DiCarlo’s only son in the warehouse that night, McNeal. Did you think he was just going to let that slide?”
Erin felt the words like a punch. “I didn’t know for certain who I shot in that warehouse.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “I took a chance on you, and you lied to me. I took you on against my better judgment, and you made a fool of me.” He laughed bitterly. “I didn’t need much help, did I?”
His self-deprecating tone stirred her temper. “Back off, Nick.”
“You suspected it was DiCarlo. You should have told me.”
“Frank asked me to keep it under my hat until we had proof.”
“Frank’s an idiot for not having you in a safe house.”
“You’re overreacting,” she said, but there was no conviction in her voice.
“The DNA came back, Erin. It’s a match to Damon DiCarlo.”
Suddenly, she felt sick to her stomach. “I’m sorry—”
“You might get off on adrenaline and the occasional game of risk, but I can do without it.” He started toward her, his mouth set in a grim line. “You not only endangered yourself this time, but you endangered my town…and my family.”
Erin had never seen him so angry. His jaws were clenched tight, his hands fisted at his sides. The sight of him, combined with the shocking knowledge that DiCarlo was behind the two attempts on her life, sent a wave of fear slicing through her.
“I wouldn’t—”
“You brought my child into this.” Nick reached her, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “You put her in danger.” He shoved the punching bag hard with the last word. The bag swung, catching Erin on the shoulder, hard enough to knock her off balance. Temper rising, she lashed out. Her glove glanced off Nick’s jaw, sending him back a step.
Thwack!
Regret knotted her stomach the instant she hit him. In all the nine years she’d been a cop, she’d never struck anyone in anger. Not even when they’d deserved it. Yet here she was, taking her anger and fear and frustration out on a man who clearly didn’t deserve it.
Anger flashed like black diamonds in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Erin barely saw the blur of his uniform as he rushed her.
In a classic wrestling move, he took her down on the mat. She landed flat on her back. Surprise rippled through her that she’d landed so gently. Anger followed when it dawned on her how easily he’d overpowered her. Those feelings turned quickly to something much more intense the instant he came down on top of her.
He straddled her, pinning her arms at her sides. “Don’t ever hit me again,” he growled.
Erin couldn’t catch her breath. Too many emotions and sensations pummeled her all at the same time. He was too close. She was too weak to fight her feelings for him much longer. They were both too involved to do anything except make the situation infinitely worse.
“Let go of me,” she said breathlessly.
“Not until you explain to me what the hell is going on.”
“I can explain standing up.”
“Like you did a moment ago, when you punched me?”
His left jaw was red. She stared at him, guilt tugging at her conscience. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been beating my brains out for days trying to figure out who wants you dead, McNeal. All the while, you’re holding out on me.”
“What did you expect me to say, Nick? That I need a job, but by the way, there’s an outside chance a well-known Mafia don is trying to kill me? I’m sure that would have gone over well.”
Nick cursed.
“Frank thought I’d be safe in Logan Falls,” she said.
“That was incredibly irresponsible of both of you!”
“I didn’t intend to endanger your family.” The repercussions of her own words settled over her like a dark cloud. “Oh, Nick… You don’t think Stephanie… I wouldn’t—”
“You didn’t even consider the possibility, did you, McNeal?”
Erin felt the words like the blade of a knife slicing her clean through. “I wouldn’t endanger her. Where is she?”
“I sent her out of town with Hector. She’s safe.”
Relief untwisted one of the dozen or so knots in Erin’s gut. “I’m not going to let DiCarlo get away with any of this. I’m going to stop him.”
Nick glared down at her, breathing hard, his face suffused with anger. “How are you going to do that? Wait until he comes knocking, then go after him with guns blazing, grenades exploding? Take him out with a little hand-to-hand? Or maybe you’re going to put that black belt of yours to use and break his neck.”
The burst of anger came so powerfully, so quickly, that for a moment Erin saw red. She bucked beneath him, trying to topple him, but he was too heavy, and her struggles were futile. “I’ll take him out however I see fit.”
Nick leaned closer. “I’m not going to let you do it.”
“Why do you care?” she retorted.
“Call me a damn fool, but I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“You don’t care about me,” she snapped.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he growled. “It goes against everything I know about you, but I care. A lot more than I should, considering you have the common sense of a terrier pup who just had its bone stolen by a pit bull. I care a hell of a lot more than I want to. More than you want me to, in fact. But, dammit, I do. So don’t think I’m going to let you walk into a dangerous situation alone, because it’s not going to happen.”
* * *
Nick couldn’t believe he’d said those killing words. Not to Erin. But the moment he’d walked into her apartment and seen her in sweatpants and T-shirt, punching that bag, all bets were off. He hadn’t even bothered to pretend he was still in control. Why should he? He hadn’t been in control since the day she’d walked into his office and way-laid him with that big-city cop attitude and those pretty green eyes.
Now, as he stared down at her, his temper tangled with emotions he didn’t want to deal with, and physical sensations more powerful than anything he’d ever known. Even knowing she was wrong for him—knowing fully she had no intention of changing her ways—he still wanted her. Wanted her so desperately he felt the need all the way to his marrow.
“You don’t have the guts to care for me,” she said.
She’d tried to make the words sound cavalier, but Nick knew his admission had surprised her. Hell, he’d surprised himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They both knew it. So why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut?
“You’re not making it easy,” he growled. “I ought to walk away right now and let DiCarlo have you.”
Erin snorted. “Like I need you to protect me.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re the Erin McNeal. You can take on DiCarlo all by yourself. Just because most of his victims end up fitting in a coffee can after he’s finished with them doesn’t mean that would happen to you. Not Erin McNeal, female cop extraordinaire.”
“Go to hell.”
She tried to get up, but he kept her pinned. He wanted to shake her, anything to make her understand the danger she faced when it came to DiCarlo. “He wants you dead, McNeal. You shot his son. Maybe even killed him. What do you think he’s going to do if he gets his hands on you
?”
“He’s not going to get his hands on me.”
She’d spoken the words with conviction, but Nick didn’t miss the shiver that rippled the length of her. He felt a swell of relief that she was finally beginning to understand the gravity of her situation.
“I’m taking you to a motel.” Gritting his teeth against the ache that had taken up permanent residence in his groin, he hoisted himself off her and stood.
Propping herself on an elbow, she glared up at him. “I’ll agree to go with you on one condition.”
“Like you have a choice.” He extended his hand, trying not to notice the way that T-shirt hugged her curves. “I’m not bargaining with you, McNeal.”
“I’m not going to sit around and wait for DiCarlo to make his move.”
If she hadn’t been dead serious, he might have laughed. As it was, the determination in her voice put a brick of dread in the pit of his stomach. “You’ve got five minutes to pack a bag,” he said. “If you’re not ready to leave by then, I’ll handcuff you and force you to come with me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You know I will.”
She reached for his hand, and he pulled her easily to her feet. “I want DiCarlo,” she said.
“Evidently, the feelings are mutual.”
“This is the perfect opportunity—”
“Pack, McNeal.”
“Dammit, Nick, I owe it to Danny.”
“Loyalty is an admirable trait, but it won’t do you any good if you’re dead.” He looked at his watch. “You have four and a half minutes to pack a bag.”
“If DiCarlo is so intent on finding me, why hasn’t he made a move until now? It’s been six months since the shooting.”
“Frank said he’s been in Sicily. As far as he knows, he was there burying his son.”
“If, indeed, DiCarlo is behind this, his attempts to get at me were halfhearted at best. That’s not his style.”
“Maybe he wants you alive. He’s not above a personal visit when it comes to revenge, especially when he gets to be the grim reaper.”
Muttering an unladylike oath, Erin turned away and stalked to the opposite side of the room. Nick watched, steeling himself against the fierce need to protect her, and another need that demanded distance and objectivity.
“All right,” she snapped. “I’ll go with you. But only until we can come up with a plan. I’m not going to sit it out.”
He considered telling her she could discuss that with the two U.S. Marshals who would be meeting her in a few hours to take her to a safe house, but decided she’d be easier to handle if she didn’t know she was about to be pulled from the race.
“Okay, McNeal. You’ve made your point. Pack. You’ve got two minutes left.”
As Nick watched her stalk toward her bedroom, he realized all he had to do now was figure out a way to keep his hands off her for the next few hours.
CHAPTER 12
Nick knew taking Erin to the Pioneer Motel wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done. But mistakes seemed to be his specialty when it came to her. Considering the electric attraction that arced between them every time they were within earshot of each other, he was probably setting himself up for a night of frustration at best. But what else could he do? Walk away when it was now clear that someone was trying to hurt her? Nick had never been good at walking away—even when it was the smart thing to do. For the life of him he couldn’t think of a safer place for her. He couldn’t let her stay at her apartment. He couldn’t take her to his house. So he’d opted for the Pioneer Motel—and a long, long night.
Located off the highway on the outskirts of town, the motel offered obscurity and the kind of anonymity that would buy them safety until the U.S. Marshals arrived. All he had to do was get through the next few hours without touching her. That shouldn’t have been a problem, considering she was frothing at the mouth to get at DiCarlo.
“Nice place,” she grumbled, tossing her overnight bag onto one of the double beds.
He locked the door behind them and flipped the dead bolt into place. “Welcome to Logan Falls’s version of a five-star hotel.”
Without looking at her, he inched a curtain aside and peered into the parking lot. Dusk had settled, but the sodium vapor lights hadn’t yet come on. The parking lot was empty, except for a rumbling semi rig and an old station wagon. He should have been relieved there wasn’t a Lincoln Continental with Illinois plates idling within plain sight. But he had been a cop long enough to know DiCarlo wouldn’t be subtle when he decided to make his move.
Nick’s unease had grown steadily stronger since he’d spoken to Frank just over an hour ago. Every time Nick thought of DiCarlo, and the man’s reputation for violence, the hairs at his nape prickled. Every time he thought of DiCarlo getting his hands on Erin, that same uneasiness burgeoned into a cold fear that sat in his gut like a chunk of ice.
She was one of the most maddening, persistent people he’d ever met. How was it that the same woman who’d brought so much light and happiness into his daughter’s life had brought so much tumult to his? She was impulsive. Headstrong. Courageous. Fallible. And more vulnerable than she would ever admit. How could he let himself care for a woman who planned to single-handedly bring down Chicago’s most ruthless mafioso?
But, Lord, he didn’t think he could stay away from her much longer. She appealed to him on a level that made him feel a little crazy—and in way over his head. Since the day she’d walked into his office and given him that cool once-over with those feline green eyes, Nick had been tied up in little knots. How was he supposed to deal with her when every time he looked at her all he could think of was how right it felt when he held her in his arms?
“Look at this.”
Turning away from the window, he glanced at her and felt his mouth go dry. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop opened in front of her. She’d changed into faded jeans and an old T-shirt before leaving her apartment, and the clothes clung to her in all the wrong places. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail, revealing her slender neck and delicate jawline. He had the insane urge to go to her and run his tongue along her throat just to see if she tasted as good as she looked.
Gritting his teeth against the annoying rush of blood to his groin, Nick approached the bed. “What do you have there, McNeal, access to the Illinois Crime Lab Database?”
“Better.” She shot him a superior smile. “A database still under development. It tracks the movement of known criminals, namely Mafia types. The big, mean dogs.”
“Your favorite kind,” he said dryly. “I’m not even going to ask how you got into that databank.”
“You probably shouldn’t.” Her fingers danced over the keys. “Knowing you, you’d probably want to arrest me.”
Scowling, Nick glanced down at the screen, where Vic DiCarlo’s name blinked. “Our boy’s been busy.”
“A subsidiary of one of his corporations owns a Learjet. Modified fuel tanks for long hauls.” She tapped a key, and the screen scrolled down. “A day after the warehouse shooting, his personal pilot filed a flight plan from New York to London. From there they flew to Sicily.”
“Interesting destination.”
“Family reunion, no doubt.”
“Or a funeral.”
Erin’s finger quivered slightly when she hit another key. “Interesting perspective, Chief. But Sicily would also be a good place to rehab if you’d been shot.”
“Just what do you plan to do with this information?” he asked.
“Use it to get DiCarlo off my back.”
“What are you going to do, hit him over the head with your laptop?”
She looked up from the monitor and frowned. Her eyes were so clear and earnest that for a moment he thought he might do something stupid, like lean forward and kiss her until she forgot all about Vic DiCarlo.
“The computer says DiCarlo is in Sicily,” he said instead.
“I think he’s back in the States,” she said. “He kno
ws the feds are watching, so he did it secretly. No flight plan.” She paused. “I think you and I should put our heads together and figure out a way to flush him out.”
Anger unfurled in his gut, but Nick curbed it. It wouldn’t do him any good to snap at her. He’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked. Maybe he could shock her into believing the mob didn’t mess around when it came to revenge.
“You shot his son, Erin. DiCarlo won’t let it go. He’s not going to forget about it.”
“If DiCarlo wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe he doesn’t just want you dead. Maybe he wants to hurt you the way you hurt him. You know his reputation when it comes to cops. If he decides to make an example of you, there won’t be enough of you left to bury.” She started to speak, but Nick silenced her by raising his hand. “Do us both a favor and let the feds handle this.”
Unfolding her legs, she rose quickly and crossed to the other side of the room. “I’m not going to walk away.”
Nick reached down, punched the power button on her laptop and closed the case. “If I have any say in the matter, you will.”
She glared at him. “Don’t let your philosophy on female cops cloud your judgment, Chief.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that misplaced sense of honor of yours that cringes at the thought of me getting into a tight spot with DiCarlo. Admit it, Chief. For all your enlightenment, there’s a part of you that thinks women and police work don’t mix.”
A kick of anger surged through him. “Recklessness and police work is the mix that chafes me.”
She laughed sharply. “Right. That’s why you nearly blew a gasket when I took down those two suspects during the Brass Rail robbery.”
“Your being female has nothing to do with it.”
“Hector would have gotten a pat on the back, a gold star and a free beer. He sure wouldn’t have gotten assigned to the school crosswalk—”
“Hector wouldn’t have risked his life on two small-time bums who would have been picked up by the highway patrol within the hour.”
“I’m not going to run away from DiCarlo just because the thought of me taking him down grates on your male sensibilities.”