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?"
* * *
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 calm
ed 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. Thornsberry 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.