Cops and…Lovers?

Chapter 8

Nick's heart stopped dead in his chest when he saw Stephanie in the round pen astride Bandito, with Erin walking alongside. He couldn't believe his eyes. The horse was walking fast enough to seriously injure Stephanie if she lost her balance and fell.

How could Erin act so irresponsibly?

He brought the truck to a skidding halt in front of the barn, out of sight from the pen. Throwing open the door, he hit the ground running. By the time he entered the barn, he was breathless not only from the short run, but from the burgeoning anger that had his pulse racing like hot mercury through his veins.

Nick had always prided himself on control. A father at the age of twenty-nine, he'd trained himself to keep his emotions in check, keep a constant grip on his temper. But as he watched Erin lead the horse through the rear door of the barn with his little girl astride, his temper ignited.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

Erin stopped, her gaze wary and level on Nick. "I was-"

"Don't be mad, Dad."

Stephanie's words struck him like a stinging lash. Nick looked at his daughter and felt the fist of emotion lodged in his chest tighten even more. "I'm not angry with you, Steph."

"Don't be mad at Erin, either," she said. "She didn't do anything wrong. Riding Bandito was my idea."

Shaking with the remnants of fear and a powerful anger he hadn't been prepared for, Nick approached the horse slowly and reached for Stephanie. "Come here." He dragged her into his arms. Her little-girl scent surrounded him like a soft cloud. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Dad, I'm okay. Geez, we were just walking."

He closed his eyes against the ensuing burst of emotion. He wouldn't let this innocent child be hurt. Not again. Certainly not by a reckless adult.

"You smell like Bandito," he said.

Stephanie grinned. "I like the way he smells."

Not wanting her to notice his state of mind, he forced a smile. "Go inside and ask Mrs. T. to fix a pot of coffee for me, would you, honeybunch?"

The little girl eyed him suspiciously. "You're going to yell at Erin, aren't you?"

He heard the woman in question behind him, putting Bandito into his stall, but Nick didn't look at her. He wasn't sure what it would do to him if he did. He was angry and wanted to stay that way. "Erin and I are going to have a talk."

"About what?"

"About boundaries and responsibility." Carrying Stephanie over to the wheelchair, he settled her in the seat. "Tell Em I'll be inside in a few minutes."

Stephanie looked past him toward Erin. Nick didn't miss the quick, uncertain smile, or the spark of newfound respect in his little girl's eyes. It had been a long time since Steph had smiled at anyone but him and Mrs. T-and she didn't do it nearly often enough to suit him. He wondered how Erin McNeal had managed to reach her in such a short period of time.

"I gotta go," Stephanie said to Erin. "Sorry you got all sweaty and dirty."

Erin looked down at her uniform. "Hey, a little dust never hurt anyone."

Ignoring Erin as best he could, Nick helped his daughter maneuver the wheelchair around, then watched her disappear through the door. Aware that his heart rate was dangerously high, he closed the door behind him and turned to face Erin.

In keeping with her tough-guy image, she raised her chin. "This isn't as… premeditated as it looks."

He started toward her. "Really?"

She stepped back. "Stephanie came to the station asking for you. She skipped school and needed a ride home. You were at the courthouse, so I drove her home. One thing led to another and-"

"One thing led to another?" Nick barely recognized his own voice. "That's a lame excuse, don't you think?"

"It's the truth."

"Just who do you think you are, walking into my home and endangering my daughter like that?"

"She wasn't in any danger."

Nick ground his teeth at her denial. "That horse weighs a thousand pounds. He hasn't been ridden in over three years. Don't tell me she wasn't in any danger."

"Bandito is well trained and even better behaved." Erin took another step back. "Stephanie wanted to ride, Nick. She begged me to take her riding."

"So you suggested she hop up on his back and go for a spin? And that's not irresponsible?"

"It's compassionate. She loves that horse-"

"She's a nine-year-old kid with a serious spinal condition. She isn't qualified to make the decision as to whether or not she can ride a horse. Neither are you."

"She did great. Nick, she laughed, for God's sake. She laughed! The instant she got on that horse, she came alive."

"I'm aware of her wants, McNeal. I don't need you pointing them out to me."

"Are you sure about that?"

Nick tried to bank his boiling temper, but she was pushing him too hard. "You don't know anything about her. You sure as hell don't know anything about me."

"Maybe I know more than you think."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know about the accident, Nick. I know what happened to your wife. I know why. I think that explains a lot about you."

He paused two feet away from her. If he got any closer, he wasn't sure what he would do. Kiss her, maybe; he was too angry to be rational. He didn't have a rational bone in his body when it came to this woman.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Rita," he said.

"Maybe this has more to do with her than you realize."

"This is about you and your recklessness and the havoc that kind of recklessness wreaks on people's lives. Stephanie and I have been through it once, and I don't plan to let you or anyone else put us through that same hell again."

"Life is full of risks," she said softly. "You can't stop living because you're afraid of getting hurt."

"Don't get living and living dangerously confused, McNeal. Not everyone has your taste for adrenaline."

"This isn't about me. It's about you and the fact that you're holding on too tight-"

"This is about you risking my daughter's safety because you need some kind of personal absolution."

"Maybe I'm just a convenient scapegoat because you can't face your own fears."

Nick's control snapped with an almost audible click. Anger and fear and another emotion he didn't want to name burst free, like shrapnel exploding from a bomb. He reached Erin in a single, swift stride. Her eyes widened, but he didn't stop. Grasping her arms, he moved her backward. "You have a real gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

She gasped when her back met the wall. "You're out of control."

Nick knew he'd lost the battle for emotional distance-if he'd ever had that to begin with when it came to this woman. He'd somehow gotten tangled up with her, physically, emotionally, and the only way he knew how to save himself was to drive her away once and for all.

"Damn right I am," he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Erin hadn't expected Nick to kiss her gently. She'd expected urgency and heat and the fire she'd seen in his eyes.

What she got was nothing like what she'd expected.

His kiss spoke of desire. The raw sensuality of it overwhelmed her. He tasted of restraint and frustration harnessed by a tattered veil of discipline that was quickly disintegrating. The combination took her breath away and tested every ounce of control she possessed. A well of unleashed emotions rushed through her like a river bursting its banks. She rode with the current, letting it push her, tumble her, until she barely knew up from down, until she no longer cared.

His hands slipped from her biceps, down her arms, igniting every nerve ending along the way. His fingers entwined with hers. All the while his mouth undermined her judgment, tore down her defenses until she stood silent and still and accepted him with every fiber of her being. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she welcomed him. Vaguely, she was aware of him sliding her hands upward, until he pinned her to the wall, her hands stretched above her head, his body snug against hers. She felt the weight of him, the hard shaft of his arousal like steel against her belly. Blood pooled in erogenous zones she never knew existed.

Nick tore his mouth from hers. He was breathing hard, his breath warm and sweet against her cheek. He gazed at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Let's have it out, McNeal," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. You know I want you. Let's cut to the chase and get this out of our systems once and for all."

Without waiting for a reply, he kissed her. Hard. Hungrily. With an unrelenting intensity that left her dizzy from a troubling mix of confusion and lust. She shouldn't be kissing him back. She knew better than to play with fire. And at the moment, Nick Ryan was like a powder keg about to explode. Erin knew she would be the one to get burned. He didn't care about her. He was angry with her.

So what was he doing kissing her? What was she doing letting him?

Her intellect told her to pull away. To stop the insanity before things went too far. But her body refused the command and proceeded to betray her. Vaguely, she was aware of his hands sliding down, skimming her shoulders, pausing at her breasts. The contact brought a moan to her lips. Her nipples beaded. Her breasts swelled against his hands, straining against the confines of her bra. The ache between her legs turned liquid and soft.

"What do you say, McNeal?" he whispered. "There's a loft a few feet away. I don't think we can ignore this much longer."

Anticipation coiled deep inside her. When his fingers went to the button of her slacks she didn't stop him. A gasp escaped her when his hand pressed flat against her belly. She wanted to protest, but his kiss battered her senses. Too much stimuli coming too quickly for her brain to process. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. She didn't seem to need either of those things as long as he didn't stop touching her.

A mewling sound broke from her lips when his finger slipped inside her. The contact shocked her. His boldness stole her breath. Her body arched involuntarily. She cried out, but his kiss swallowed the sound. Control fluttered away, taking the last of her wisdom, the last of her dignity. Her body clenched, released. The madness built like a storm, promising a violent end. She opened to him. Felt the burn of his fingers against her most intimate place. He stroked her, driving her higher, closer to the edge, beyond the point of no return.

"Don't fight it, McNeal," Nick whispered darkly. "Don't fight me."

The meaning behind his words shocked her. She'd never known need could be so powerful. She wanted Nick more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. More than she thought herself capable. But even as he kissed her like she'd never been kissed before, and caressed her body with hands that were driving her slowly insane, his anger stood between them as tangibly as a block of ice. She couldn't let him touch her out of anger.

Putting her hands against his chest, she twisted away from him. "I can't do this." She stumbled back, flushed, embarrassed, her body trembling. "Not like this."

Nick let her go, his eyes dark and menacing, his nostrils flaring with each breath. "Why not?"

Erin turned away from him, unable to face him, struggling to control her breathing. "You're angry."

"That didn't seem to bother you a moment ago."

"I don't want this to happen out of anger."

"What exactly do you think is going to happen?"

She stared straight ahead, starkly aware of him behind her, appalled that she'd stepped right into his trap. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing's going to happen."

"You sure about that?"

Erin knew what he was trying to do. Push her away so he wouldn't have to face the fact that there was more going on between them than either of them was willing to admit. Emotions and issues that didn't have anything to do with matters of the flesh.

Humiliation that she'd lost control burned through her. She didn't give her body on a whim. She hadn't taken a lover since her disastrous breakup with Warren years ago. Until she met Nick, she hadn't even missed the physical aspect of a relationship.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

He gazed levelly at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have said those things." His jaw flexed. "I shouldn't have touched you."

No man had ever gazed at her the way Nick Ryan did. She wondered how he could look intense and coldly distant at the same time. Erin couldn't keep her eyes from making a quick sweep of him, taking in the rise and fall of his wide chest. The rigid set of his shoulders. The fact that he was still blatantly aroused.

"I have to go," she whispered in a strangled voice.

Never taking her eyes from his, she backed toward the front door. He watched her with predatory intensity, his expression inscrutable.

"Stay away from Stephanie," he said in a quietly dangerous voice. "She likes you, Erin, but she's vulnerable. I don't want her hurt."

"I'd never hurt her," she said.

"I know you wouldn't. Not purposefully. But she's fragile, and I don't want her heartbroken when you decide to go back to Chicago."

Erin steeled herself against the words. She told herself they didn't hurt. That she didn't care. She was a cop; relationships weren't her thing. Still, she felt his words like the jab of a bayonet right through her solar plexus. Dignity forgotten, she turned and fled the barn without looking back.

Erin promised herself she wasn't going to cry. Not again, for goodness sake. It seemed crying was getting to be a habit since she'd moved to Logan Falls and taken up residence on Nick Ryan's hit list. The problem, she decided as she got into her cruiser and slammed the door, was that she'd started breaking her own rules. The ones she'd been living with and doing just fine by since the day Warren had broken her heart and proved to her that most men didn't have the self-assurance to handle a relationship with a woman in a dangerous profession.

Only she knew Nick Ryan wasn't like most men.

As she pulled out of the driveway, she made the mistake of looking in her rearview mirror and catching a glimpse of Stephanie sitting on the front porch, waving her back. The little girl looked so forlorn sitting there with her horse-show trophy in her lap that Erin 's throat locked up. A hundred yards away, Nick stood at the barn door, his arms crossed at his chest, watching her pull away.

Erin 's heart ached for both of them. Stephanie because she wanted so desperately to lead a more active, normal life, and Nick because he couldn't bear the thought of his child taking any kind of risk. A heartbreaking situation. The only question that remained was which one of them would end up losing the most, and how much it would cost them.

Stay away from Stephanie.

Nick's words rang in Erin 's ears, and another wave of pain sliced under her ribcage. For the first time, she realized just how involved her heart had become. The thought elicited an uncharacteristic jab of panic. When was she ever going to learn that police work and relationships didn't mix? Not relationships with men. Certainly not with their children.

It was obvious Nick didn't want to get any closer to her. Well, at least not emotionally. A physical relationship with a man unable to risk his heart for fear of losing it was something she wanted no part of, no matter how attracted she was to him. Not that she wanted his heart in the first place, she reminded herself firmly.

Stephanie, on the other hand, had already snagged Erin 's heart. Not a good thing, considering Nick had all but forbidden her to see her. She knew if her feelings for the little girl got any deeper, she herself was going to get hurt. Best not to get involved. Nick didn't want her in either of their lives. He wasn't ready to care for anyone. Stephanie certainly didn't need any more hurt in her life. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe Erin should just go back to Chicago and forget both of them.

And cows had wings.

Not ready to return to the station and risk running into Hector with a kiss-bruised mouth and red-rimmed eyes, Erin turned onto County Line Road and headed away from town. Shrouded with trees from the greenbelt that ran along Logan Creek, the route was virtually deserted. With a little luck, she'd have a few minutes to pull herself together.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't see the black Lincoln behind her until it was nearly on top of her. Not opposed to handing out a speeding ticket, she eased up on the gas pedal and reached for her emergency strobes switch.

"Okay, speed racer-"

Her words were cut off abruptly as the Lincoln 's bumper slammed into the rear of her cruiser. The impact jolted her. Erin gripped the wheel, surprise burning in her gut. She turned her head to get a look at the driver, but like the sedan that had hit her at the school crossing, the windows were darkly tinted. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she checked for a license number to call in, but there was no plate.

Recalling lessons from driving courses she'd taken over the years, she put her foot on the brake. Probably a drunk, she told herself, checking her speedometer and slowing. Never taking her eyes from the car, she reached for her radio mike to call Hector for backup.

Another more forceful jolt knocked the mike from her hand. She looked up in time to see the Lincoln veer to the left and try to pull alongside her. She leaned forward and snagged the mike off the floor. Instinct had her pressing down on the cruiser's accelerator.

"This is McNeal. I've got a code one. County Line Road just west of the Logan Creek bridge."

The Lincoln was nearly alongside her now. She looked over. Her stomach did a slow, sickening somersault when she spotted a shotgun muzzle sticking out the open passenger-side window.

"Code eight! Hector, this is Erin! He's got a damn shotgun! He's trying-"

Her windshield exploded. Glass pelted her. Erin didn't have time to scream. She jerked the wheel to the left, hoping to bump the Lincoln and send it off the road. In the side mirror, she caught a glimpse of the hood. Engine whining, the Lincoln drew up fast on her left. She looked down at the speedometer. Only fifty miles an hour. It seemed like they were going a hundred.

A second shotgun blast rang out. Erin ducked instinctively. Her hand went to her revolver, jerked it from her holster. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw that the Lincoln had fallen back.

The cruiser hit a bump and lurched wildly. Realizing she'd veered onto the shoulder, she stomped on the brakes, but it was too late. The Logan Creek bridge loomed before her. The car pitched. Erin saw tall grass. A green kaleidoscope of trees rushed toward her. Oh, God, the car was going to roll. Bracing against the seat back, she screamed, praying the men in the Lincoln didn't decide to brave the ravine and finish the job they'd started.