“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.