Chapter Twenty

I’m surprised you’re not happy,” Kate said over the phone.

“Why would I be happy about being sidelined in the middle of a major case?”

Nicole sank onto her bed and leaned her crutches against the nightstand.

“Well, you’re always talking about getting called out on weekends and having no social life. Maybe you can actually relax for a few days.”

Relax. Right. Nicole reached for her shorts on the floor and yelped when a bolt of pain shot up her leg.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I just tweaked something.”

“See? Brady’s right. You need a break right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“Nik, you’re not fine. Come on. You’ve been through an ordeal. I’m surprised you’re not freaking out like Emmet, and the fact that you’re not tells me maybe you’re just a little too immersed in your work. I mean, hello? You could have easily been killed yesterday.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

Her sister sighed. This conversation was going in circles, and it was time to jump off.

“Kate, let me let you go, okay? I just got home, and I’m trying to change clothes.”

“Sure. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“I mean it. It’s okay to ask for help, you know. You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

It sounded so much like what Emmet had said to her just the other night, only he’d been talking about work. Nicole didn’t like relying on other people. She’d always strived to be self-sufficient—which made it all the more exasperating that she had this injury to deal with.

After hanging up with Kate, she set her phone on the nightstand. Carefully this time, she leaned forward and grabbed her favorite shorts off the floor—the loose cotton ones with sunflowers all over them. They were the easiest thing she had to pull on and off over her big boot. She wiggled into the shorts and then flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Frustration churned around inside her. She knew Kate was right—to an extent. Last night had scared the hell out of her, and every time she thought about it, she got this panicky feeling like someone was reaching inside her and squeezing her lungs in a big fist. So, yeah, she’d been on edge today, maybe a little snappy. Even David had commented on it.

But work was her comfort zone. She was good at it. And whenever she felt unsettled with some aspect of her life, she dove headlong into her job to distract herself. Now, though, Emmet and Brady had yanked that option away. What the hell was she going to do for three whole days?

“Screw it.”

She grabbed her crutches and pulled herself up. What she wasn’t going to do was sit around and mope. The case needed her. Both cases did. And if she couldn’t show her face at the police station, then she’d work remotely. She could start by catching up on the reports she hadn’t had time to read because she’d been too busy interviewing witnesses and driving back and forth to the crime lab. Maybe she’d find some key nugget of information that everyone else had overlooked. She had no idea what it might be, but she knew—she knew—that these two homicides were connected in some way, and she was determined to figure out the link.

Nicole grabbed her computer bag off the sofa. Hitching it onto her shoulder, she crutched over to the bar. She slid David’s flower arrangement aside and took out her laptop.

A knock sounded at the door, and Nicole turned to look at it.

Damn.

She took a deep breath and crossed the living room. Peering through the peephole, she confirmed what she’d suspected. She opened the door, and Emmet strode inside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m here to finish the conversation we were having when you hung up on me.” He stared down at her, hands on hips. He wore a faded gray T-shirt and jeans, and he hadn’t even bothered to put on a jacket.

“I have nothing more to say.” She closed the door and crutched over to the sofa. The basketball game was playing at low volume. She propped her crutches against the armchair and lowered herself onto the couch.

“Nicole.”

“What?”

He sat down on the arm of the sofa. “What is with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Look at me.”

She glared up at him. His hair was still damp from his shower as if he’d rushed straight over here.

“You hung up on me,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little immature?”

She reached for the remote and turned up the volume.

He rolled his eyes.

She gazed at the television, fuming. Had he come all the way over here just to rub her nose in this? She stared at the game, pretending to watch as she ignored the smell of his bodywash.

He propped his ratty sneaker on her coffee table and bent his head down, forcing her to make eye contact.

“What?”

“The thing is, I’m the lead here,” he said. “And I have to think about the safety of you and everyone else on this team.”

“I appreciate the thought,” she said, matching his calm, reasonable tone. “But, unfortunately, we don’t have that luxury right now given that we have two active murder investigations and no suspects.”

His jaw twitched, and she could tell she’d hit a nerve.

“And anyway, I’m capable of assessing my own risks,” she said. “I don’t need you to do it for me.”

“Maybe you do.”

Anger swelled inside her. “No. I don’t. That’s part of what I signed up for when I became a cop. And as I already told you, I really don’t appreciate you treating me different than Owen or Adam or any other man I work with.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate you keeping shit from me,” he said. “Like the fact that you noticed some guy tailing you around town. Kate told me about that.”

“So?”

“So, don’t you think that might be something you want to let me know? We’re in the middle of a homicide investigation. Two homicide investigations. Why did I have to learn that from your sister?”

She shook her head. “You still don’t get it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Don’t get what?”

“Emmet. We work in a small town. Running into guys I’ve arrested comes with the territory. It happens to me all the time. Same for people I’m investigating, or people who don’t like me, or people who don’t like cops for whatever reason.”

“Nicole, a black SUV—most likely a Tahoe—tried to run you down last night. And we have reason to think one of our murder victims was being tailed by a black Tahoe.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

“How the hell can you say that?”

“Because. The person I saw following me was in a silver car. Last night’s incident was a sport utility vehicle. And anyway, black SUVs are everywhere. You have no proof that those incidents are related. It could have just been one of the many local dirtbags who has a beef with me.”

His mouth tightened. “Well, I’m going with worst-case scenario because that’s how I am.”

She shook her head and looked at the TV. She reached for her plastic cup of water, but it was empty.

“When’s your next pill?” he asked.

“Never.” She glanced at him, and his brow furrowed with concern. “They make my head fuzzy, so I quit taking them.”

He watched her for a long moment.

Then he got up and went into the kitchen, and she saw him look at the flower arrangement. Her stomach tightened as he stared at the little white envelope by the vase.

Nicole looked at the television, emotions pinging around inside her as she listened to him moving around in her kitchen. He returned with a pair of cold Coronas.

“Here.”

He handed her a beer and sat down on the sofa beside her.

She took a sip, then set the bottle on the coffee table and stared at the game.

“I know you’re pissed off at me,” he said.

“You’re very perceptive. Maybe you should be a detective.”

He sighed.

Okay, so she was being immature. She knew that. But this whole situation infuriated her. She didn’t like being told what to do by anyone, but she could handle it coming from her boss. She couldn’t handle it coming from Emmet. They were equals, and he was using his position as lead detective to manipulate Brady into sidelining her.

“Nicole, look at me.”

“What?”

“Would you look at me, damn it.”

She did, and the intensity in his eyes made her stomach fill with nerves.

“Last night on the phone when I heard you scream”—he shook his head—“my heart fucking stopped.”

Her throat tightened. She watched his face, trying to read everything there. She’d thought he was frustrated with her, but it was more than that.

He picked up her hand and pressed her palm against his sternum. “I couldn’t breathe, Nicole.”

She stared at him, absorbing the solid heat of him through his T-shirt.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She couldn’t speak.

He leaned forward, and her pulse skittered as his attention dropped to her mouth. And then he kissed her, settling his lips on hers.

Nicole’s mind reeled as his tongue slid against hers. Emmet was kissing her. And she wasn’t drunk or dreaming or high on pain meds. His mouth was warm and avid, and she tasted her beer on his tongue. He eased her back against the cushion, and she made a soft noise that was part surprise and part immense relief.

His palm settled on her thigh, and she felt the heat of it everywhere.

“Nicole. God.”

He kissed her harder, and she ran her fingers into his thick hair that was still damp and cool from the air outside. He slid his hand up her leg, and a warm shudder moved through her. She tucked her fingers into the waist of his jeans to pull him closer. He tasted so good again and he smelled amazing, and she wanted to inhale him, even though two minutes ago he’d made her want to smack him. How did he do this to her? She wanted to push him away and also consume him—both at the same time.

She pulled back to look at him, and the intensity in his eyes sent a jolt of yearning through her.

“You okay?” He glanced at her boot.

She shook her head.

“No?” His face fell.

“Could you just—” She leaned forward. “I need to prop it up.”

He scooted over, and she lifted her boot onto the sofa and settled back against the cushion. “Better.”

He waited a moment, and she could see him trying to figure out how to best position himself. He shifted closer and leaned over her, gazing down at her as he stroked a finger over her cheek.

And then he kissed her again, and it was gentle and sweet, and once again she felt a flood of emotions. She reached up, curling her fingers into his hair as his hand glided under her sweatshirt and grazed her ribs on the way to her breast. No lace this time, but he stroked her through her bra, making a little circle with his thumb, and she whimpered at the sensation. He undid the clasp and pushed her sweatshirt up, and cool air wafted over her. She’d always been self-conscious about her smallish boobs, but the hungry way he was looking at them gave her a burst of confidence, and she tugged the bra and sweatshirt over her head and tossed them on the floor.

He closed his eyes briefly, and then he was leaning over her again, kissing her lips before making a line down her neck and over her collarbone. He wrapped her breast in his palm and his hot mouth closed over her nipple.

Desire seared through her, and she made a little moan as she pressed against him. It was like last night, but even better because it was bare skin, and God, he knew just how to use his tongue and his hands to turn her on. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back.

“Nicole?”

“Hmm?”

“Is David coming over?”

Her eyes flew open, and it was like being doused with cold water. “No.”

He pushed up on his hands. “You sure?”

She propped herself on her uninjured elbow, and his gaze darted to her bare breasts.

“We broke up.”

He stared down at her, and something flickered in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He bent down and gave her a quick kiss. “Hold on to me.”

“What?”

He took her hand and curled it around the back of his neck. Then he scooped her up off the sofa with one swift motion.

“Oh my God.” Her heart made a little lurch, and she gripped his shirt as he carried her through the living room. “Watch my—”

“I know.” He stepped sideways through the doorway, taking care not to bump her boot as he carried her down the hall and into her bedroom. It was messy and dark, and the light from the closet spilled out over all her discarded clothes on the floor. He set her down in the middle of the unmade bed and then reached over and grabbed a pillow for her boot. He propped it under her foot, then gazed down at her with a simmering look.

A lock of hair fell over his face as he leaned over her. “Want to watch TV?”

She blinked up at him. “What?”

He smiled. “Kidding.” He traced his thumb over her chin and his smile faded. “But seriously... we don’t have to do this now.” He glanced at her ankle. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

His eyebrows arched. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”