by Diana Duncan
Zoe and the other astonished passengers peered over the seats at the startling sight. The police must be conducting a high-speed chase.
The chopper floated down as lightly as a dragonfly and kissed the middle of the freeway, blades whirring. The bus driver swore as he slammed on the brakes. The bus skidded to a halt.
She blinked. Whoa! Oregon was prime movie filming territory. Maybe they were about to become extras in the next big action blockbuster.
The chopper door flew open. A dark-haired, broad-shouldered police officer dressed in a black SWAT uniform leapt out of the passenger side, ducking beneath the deadly blades. No swaggering movie star, this cop was all lethal business.
The heart she’d thought dead inside her kicked against her ribs.
Surely not.
Besides, the last time she’d seen her cop, he was wearing tuxedo pants and not much else.
As the officer prowled toward the bus, her pulse thundered into triple time. That fluid, loose-limbed grace, the powerful self-assured stride belonged to only one man.
The driver opened the door ... and Aidan O’Rourke stalked up the steps.
His handsome face was stoic, but taut-as-wire muscles and rigid posture revealed his fury. Rage vibrated from every pore of his big, sculpted body.
Her respiration sped up. Was he angry because she’d cheated him out of a final showdown? He flashed his badge at the driver before prowling down the aisle.
Oily panic swelled in her throat and she closed her eyes, bracing herself to face Aidan’s wrath. His footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
Stopped.
Thick, heavy silence descended.
She gulped. Facing him was her obligation. He deserved reparation she could never give. She opened her eyes, but could not meet his. The revulsion that’d twisted his face, the horror-stricken disbelief that’d darkened his eyes when DiMarco dropped his bomb would haunt her forever. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust, the betrayal he must feel every time he looked at her. She kept her attention fixed on his throat.
“We have unfinished business, Zagretti.”
Her name spoken in his deep, velvet tones sank a heavy boulder of misery in her stomach. “I’m sorry. I would’ve apologized in person, but I knew it would only hurt you to see me.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for the sick, cruel acts my father perpetrated on you and your family. Sorry for pursuing the investigation when you told me to stop. Sorry for the brutal insults I said to you at ... at... the totem pole.” Another shaky breath. “I can’t begin to express how awful I feel.”
“Don’t apologize.” His low voice was implacable.
“I can never make it up to you. You have every right to be furious. But I promise, you’ll never have to set eyes on me again. It’s over.”
“It’s far from over,” he said softly. “Come with me.”
Dread crawled up her spine. By leaving so quickly, she’d hoped to avoid this. He’d been hurt beyond bearing. No words could undo the truth of who and what she was. “Hashing it out will only cause you more torment. Better if it ends now.”
“You really want to do this here?”
She glanced around at the curious faces riveted on them. His family would’ve been informed about Brian. Would be beginning the preparations to finally lay him to rest. Her presence among them would sting like acid in an open wound. Every time the O’Rourke brothers looked at her, they would remember the barbarian who’d laughed while he bludgeoned their father to death. Every time Maureen saw her face, she’d be reminded of the evil butcher who’d tortured her sons and cold-bloodedly murdered her husband. Zoe refused to hurt them more. “Please understand, Aidan. I’m trying to spare you and your family. I don’t think we should do this at all.”
He leaned over and spoke into her ear. “Don’t make me pull out the cuffs.”
Her jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Feel free to try me.” He crouched to her level, but she moved her determined stare to the seatback in front of her. “I’ll only ask once more. Come with me.”
Leaving him the first time had been excruciating. Having to walk away a second time would be her undoing. “I can’t. Just can’t. I’ll call you when I get to San Francisco, and you can tear a strip off my hide over the phone. I promise, I’ll listen. You deserve the chance to speak your mind.”
“Stubborn little gypsy. I knew you were trouble the first time I laid eyes on you.” He sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He moved too fast for her to react. Cold steel clamped around her right wrist. Before she could blink, he’d cuffed her wrist to his. He rose. “Let’s go.”
Dismay rocketed through her. Was she under arrest? She’d seen him like this at the hospital when she’d tried to get into DiMarco’s room. Furious, but tightly controlled. She had no choice except stand and move into the aisle with him.
He slung her bag over his shoulder, frowning at the weight. “Important protected witness,” he told the bus at large as he led her out.
Why did he bother to salvage her pride? He shouldn’t care if her fellow passengers thought her a criminal. After all, she was the daughter of one.
Aidan had the bus driver unload her suitcase, then towed her toward the helicopter. Halfway there, the dusky clouds began to spit raindrops.
Evander popped his head out of the bag. “Meoorwwr!”
Aidan lurched to a halt. “What the—” He looked down at the cat and chuckled. “I doubt you’d like a chopper ride, buddy. I don’t have ear protection to fit you.”
He reversed direction and stalked to the patrol car. Liam lowered the window, grinned at his brother. “I see you have our witness in protective custody.”
Confusion muddied her thoughts. Apparently, the police did need her as a witness.
“She has a partner in crime.” Aidan passed over her bag. “Meet Evander. Evander, Liam. I’ll pick him up tomorrow.”
“Murph will be happy to have the company. The nutball loves cats.” Liam scratched Evander behind the ears and arched a brow at Zoe. “Don’t worry, as companions, not canapés.”
As Aidan towed her back into the mini-tornado created by the chopper blades, Grady waved from the pilot’s seat. Aidan boosted her into the back. Climbed in beside her. He buckled her seatbelt before gently settling a miked headset over her ears. He put on his own seatbelt and headset. She heard him speak through the earphones. “Get this bird in the air.”
“Jesus, A-Man.” Grady’s amused, mellow voice replied. “Dragging your women in cuffed, nowadays? A tad Cro Magnon, even for you.”
“Stick it on ice, wanker,” Aidan growled. “And drive.”
“Kiss my what, bro?” The helicopter vibrated around her, then zoomed skyward, making her stomach dip. “Welcome aboard Air O’Rourke,” Grady drawled. “Hopefully, we’ll be flying at an altitude high enough not to freak you into wetting your pants ... unless A-Man here demands that we buzz a bus and land on a freeway. Again.”
Aidan snorted. “You loved every minute of it.”
“Yee haw, I live to mow grass with my chopper blades.” Grady chuckled. “Next stop, Riverside PD.”
The destination confirmed her theory. Though Officer Cain had said she could leave after giving her statement, they must need more information. No wonder Aidan was angry. His superiors had sent him after her—the last person he wanted to see. She’d be angry in his place, too.
Well, she’d try to make it as easy on him as possible. For her part, she’d tough it out and get through it.
A sad sigh escaped. Easier said than done. Walking away from Aidan again would devastate her.
The warm strength radiating from him tempted her to rest her weary head on his shoulder. Zoe shifted as far away from him as possible and concentrated on blocking out the aching sensory overload caused by his nearness. Tipping her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes. Though physically linked by handcuffs, emotionally they were oceans apart.
Around fifteen
minutes later, the copter landed on the helipad atop the police station. As she and Aidan exited, Grady blew her a jaunty goodbye kiss. Okay, he must not know about DiMarco yet.
But instead of leading her inside the station, Aidan took the elevator to the parking garage.
He stopped beside a black Jeep and unlocked the cuffs. She hung back, bewildered as he pocketed them, then opened the door. “Whose Jeep is this and where are we going?”
“Grady’s. He’ll catch a ride with Liam.” He gestured at her to get in. “We’re going to my place.”
Her raw nerve endings jittered. “Why?”
“I want to talk to you in private.”
She reeled beneath crushing apprehension. Official statements she could deal with. Alone in Aidan’s apartment, faced with his pain and rage, she might melt into a useless, sobbing puddle. Beg him not to hate her. Put him on the spot.
And wouldn’t that be a comfort to him?
Aidan helped her inside the vehicle. As they left the parking garage, the raindrops picked up speed and momentum, turning into a downpour. Aidan focused on the unusually heavy traffic while she spent the taut, silent half-hour shoring up her courage. He needed closure, and she’d give it to him.
No matter what it cost her.
Chapter 17
Twelve noon
Standing next to Aidan in his living room, Zoe breathed in his scent. He smelled so good. So masculine. So clean. She covertly studied his strong profile. “You shaved.” A safe, innocuous topic.
“Yeah, I couldn’t stand my own filth.”
She knew how that felt.
“I grabbed a fast shower at the command post before changing into an extra uniform. Didn’t want anyone to mistake me for a perp. Guess I owe the tux rental place a few bucks.” When reached out to touch her face, she flinched. If he touched her, she’d fall apart.
He froze, brows snapping together. “Are you afraid of me?”
Their talk would shred her. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more pain today. However, if a discussion would help him, she’d find the strength. Somewhere. “Of course not.” She stiffened, braced for the mental blow. “Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind.”
“Zoe.” Aidan’s voice lowered. “We’ll both feel better after we clear the air.”
Her stomach rolled. Aidan might feel better, but nothing could change the fact that his father’s legacy was courage and honor ... while her father’s legacy was cruelty and death.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured at the rich brown leather sofa. “You hungry?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m ravenous.” Even avoiding his gaze, the weight of it pinned her. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
No. No running away this time. She was obligated to stay and face the music. No matter how discordant.
Aidan hadn’t turned on the lights when they’d entered, and the wan atmosphere was as murky as her spirits. She trudged to the rain-streaked window to stare at the cityscape, washed in gloom. The river reflected steely clouds overhead, gray water cold and unwelcoming. A solitary barge struggled through choppy waves, making slow headway against the storm.
The barge had battled its lonely way around the river bend by the time Aidan strode into the room carrying two platters. One brimmed with bite-size summer fruits and chocolate sauce, the other held assorted canapés, cheeses, crackers, spreads, and miniature rounds of bread.
He’d also changed out of his uniform. Faded jeans showcased his muscular thighs and long legs to perfection, and a dark plum button-down shirt hugged his broad shoulders. His shirtsleeves were rolled up on sinewy forearms, his long feet were bare. She hungered for him far more than any food.
He made her yearn for something she could never have.
She wrapped her arms around herself, but the defensive gesture couldn’t ease her grief. She now understood why he’d closed himself off for so many years. Why he’d been afraid to hope. To want. To care.
Caring hurt way too much.
“I took a few seconds to change into civvies.” He set the platters on the glass-topped coffee table and smiled. “Don’t want you to feel like you’re being interrogated.”
She didn’t know if the smile reached his eyes. She still couldn’t meet them.
He left again, then returned balancing dark green plates topped with matching napkins, a steaming, fragrant casserole dish of gingered chicken wings, and a bowl of deviled crab.
“I hope you didn’t go to all that trouble for me. I really can’t eat anything.”
“Wedding reception leftovers. Found ’em in my fridge with a note from Mom, and just nuked ’em. She figured we’d be tired and hungry after our ordeal and not up to cooking. There’s chocolate peppermint wedding cake for dessert.”
He made one more trip for a bottle of white wine and two stemmed goblets. He arranged dishes, poured wine, then held out his hand. “Come sit down.”
Rather than endure the torment of close contact with him on the sofa, she toed off her sandals, confiscated a suede floor pillow, and sat to one side of the low coffee table. Shivers crept over her as she stared at the icy, unforgiving glass tabletop ... waiting for him to speak.
“Here.” He gently draped a sand-colored chenille throw over her shoulders. “It’s turned unseasonably chilly.” He moved to the fireplace, flicked a switch. Steady red-gold flames instantly sprang to life and crackling warmth radiated toward her. “The beauty of a gas fireplace. No wood to chop.”
What was he doing? Her comfort should no longer concern him. But protectiveness was intrinsic to his character. She clutched the downy throw like a lifeline. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He tossed down a second floor pillow and sat beside her.
So much for evading his overwhelming presence.
He didn’t waste any time. “Why did you run, Zoe?”
She stared at the fire while heavy silence thrummed between them. She ached for him to hold her. But the only person in the world who could comfort her was the one person she had no right to seek comfort from.
Finally, she steeled her nerves and dove in. “Because I couldn’t do anything else.” A furious gust of wind slammed rain against the window. “Why did you come after me?”
“Because I couldn’t do anything else.”
She’d suspected as much. “Your superiors didn’t give you a choice. I don’t blame you for being angry.”
He choked on a drink of wine. “You thought I was mad because headquarters forced me to track you down?” He sounded incredulous. “Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, heralding the storm outside. “Why not?” Thunder also rumbled in his voice. Gonna storm inside as well.
The truth stung, cold and bitter in her mouth. “Because I can’t bear to see the disgust and horror in your eyes again. Because you’ve been betrayed and I can never make that up to you. Because of who I am—” Her voice cracked. “T-the daughter of the man who murdered your father. The child of the filth who caused you and your family so much pain.”
“Zoe, I need you to look at me.” His plea sounded strangled. “Please.”
She closed her eyes. The one thing she’d dreaded most. The one thing she didn’t have the courage to face. The one thing that would completely break her.
But he’d asked it of her, and she owed him at least that.
And so much more she could never, ever make right.
Her hands fisted, nails cutting into her palms. Mortal fear made her eyelids slow to open. She stared at Aidan’s square chin, firmed in stubborn determination. Full, sculpted lips, compacted so tightly they were white. That regal nose, nostrils flared with emotion. Dreading the moment of impact, she forced her gaze upward.
Lightning flashes of emotion raged in his eyes.
Stark anguish shadowed his irises, and arrowed into her heart. Pain.
Dark, hot fury smoldered, and made her stomach clench. Anger.
Tears glistened in the deep brown pools, clung to his long, thick eyelashes. Sorrow.
Her breath jammed, thick, painful cement in her lungs.
Tears?
Her tough cop never cried. Had declared tears useless. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. She’d rather have died at DiMarco’s hands than hurt Aidan. Would rather die, right here, right now, than make him cry. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “So sorry. In the clearing ... I saw your disgust, your horror ... your terrible pain. Reliving your father’s death had to be agonizing.”
“No, baby.” He cupped her face. His hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. The disgust and horror I felt wasn’t about who you are. I lost it because I was trapped in my worst nightmare. I let you down. I let you die.”
Confusion jumbled her thoughts. “Wh-what? What do you mean?”
“I had to stand there and let that monster rip out your heart, and I couldn’t do anything. Had to listen to him slice your soul into bloody scraps, and I couldn’t stop him. He hurt you beyond bearing, and I couldn’t protect you.” His voice wavered. He swallowed hard. The storm crashed overhead, and the tears pooling in his eyes spilled over. “I watched you die, inch by inch. Your optimism. Your spirit. Worst of all, your hope.”
Stunned, bewildered, her bruised, aching soul in turmoil, she gasped. He was upset because she’d been hurt? He was crying over her pain?
Her throat closed up and her eyes filled. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Oh, Aidan, please, don’t.” She gently wiped away the warm, wet streaks on his face as her own tears streamed. “None of it was your fault. My investigation got us kidnapped. My father tried to kill you. I’m contaminated. Dirty.” She hung her head. “The blame is mine. The shame is mine.”
He hissed through gritted teeth. “DiMarco contributed to your existence—the only good thing he ever did in his sorry life—but he was never your father. And never will be.” His entire body was trembling. “As surely as if DiMarco held a gun to your head and pulled the trigger, he murdered you. I had to watch in helpless rage while a hollowed-out shell of the woman I’ve grown to respect and admire and care about crumpled to lie in the dirt.”