by Cara Summers
5
DETECTIVE NIK ANGELIS was furious. J.C. sensed the anger radiating off him in waves and felt it in the hard grip of his fingers on her arm as he dragged her out of the church.
She dug in her heels as they circled her van. “I need to get my bag. I keep a change of clothes in it, and I’m assuming that you’re not taking me back to my place.”
He waited, saying nothing as she opened the doors and pulled a duffel out of the back of the van. He’d spent a fruitless five minutes trying to argue his way out of his new assignment. She could sympathize with his frustration because she hadn’t been any more successful in her little debate with Uncle Chad. Their fates had been sealed when her uncle had called her father and convinced him that Detective Angelis was the only man for the job. Then her father had talked to Captain Parker, and that was that. Obviously, Nik Angelis blamed her for the fact that he was stuck with a babysitting job.
Babysitting. That’s the term he’d used when he’d been talking to his captain. Just thinking about it had her own anger flaring up again. She sent him a scowl as he led her around to the other side of the van.
“What’s going to happen to my van?” she asked as he jabbed his key into the door of a sporty little red convertible that didn’t look at all like police issue.
“Parker will arrange to have it delivered to your place of business.”
“What about the cake?”
“The cake? You’re worried about the cake?”
“I made the cake,” she objected. “I don’t want it to go to waste. You can tell your captain to send it down to the precinct or whatever you call it. It’s an exceptional cake. If cops like donuts, they’ll—”
“Listen, Pipsqueak, let’s get this straight. My job is to protect you, not take orders from you. This will go more smoothly if you remember I’m the boss.”
He tightened his grip on her arm and planted his other hand at the small of her back, preparing to unceremoniously shove her into the front seat of his car as if she were a criminal. Slamming her hand down on the open door, she stood her ground. “Look, pal, I’m just as unhappy about this situation as you are.”
“You think?”
The look he gave her dried her throat. Okay maybe she wasn’t quite as unhappy as he was. But why was that? Then she recalled her visit from his brother. She’d thought at the time that it was a bit odd that a cop’s family member was walking around the crime scene. J.C. moistened her lips. “This isn’t just about babysitting me. This case has some personal meaning to you, doesn’t it?”
Nik’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe. Get in the car.”
Once more she resisted the pressure of his hands. “Wait! We can figure a way around it. I have some suggestions. You might have noticed that my father has a real talent for bullying everyone who gets in his way.”
“And your point is?”
“I have twenty-five years of experience wiggling around him. I’m sure we can work—”
Nik gripped her chin in his hand, leaned in close and clipped his words off like bullets. “Shut up and get in the car.”
The moment he eased back to allow her to do so, she planted both hands on his chest and gave him one hard shove. The move caught him by surprise and he stumbled back a step, pulling her with him. That was when she felt a searing pain in her upper arm and heard a ping. Next thing she knew something that felt like a Mack truck had slammed her flat against the pavement.
It took a few seconds before the pain sang its way through her whole body, a few more for her senses to sort through the source of each separate ache. But finally, J.C. registered that her head hurt, her arm stung and Nik’s weight on top of her had probably collapsed a lung. The tarmac was hot beneath her back, and Nik was swearing an equally hot blue streak in her ear.
For some odd reason the sound of his voice comforted her. He took time to draw in a breath, then lifted his head and said, “You all right?”
“I’m alive.” She concentrated on that one small fact while Nik wiggled on top of her, drawing out both his gun and his cell phone. Flipping open the cell, he pressed one button and began to speak tersely into it.
J.C. took stock. She was definitely alive, but she was a little worried that she was becoming way too familiar with the sound of gunfire.
“Who shot at me?” she asked when Nik was through on his phone.
“My money’s on your pal Snake Eyes.”
That’s where her money would have gone, too—to win, place and show. “That means he waited for me.”
“We’re on the same page there, Pipsqueak. And he wants you dead pretty bad to try for it with cops swarming all over the place.”
She hadn’t been scared before, not since Nik had arrived on the scene, perhaps because none of it had seemed real, but the thought of that horrible man hanging around, waiting for her to come out of the church, sent an icy arrow of fear through J.C.
Another thought occurred to her. “If you hadn’t handcuffed me to that radiator, I would have run back to the rectory to blow out the candles. Then I probably would have started loading the cake and the champagne into my van. I’m like that. When I’m nervous, I like to keep busy.” A tremor moved through her body. “He could have picked me off like a duck in a shooting gallery.”
“It didn’t happen.” Nik met her eyes, his voice just as terse as it had been on his phone. “It’s not going to happen. And you can take that to the bank. I’ve been assigned to protect you, and I’m good at my job.”
She believed him. She thought she might believe anything he said when he was looking at her that way—as if he could see everything about her. And she was once again intensely aware of him, of the weight and warmth of his body on hers. This close, she could see the golden flecks in the darker brown of his eyes. J.C. watched, fascinated, as his eyes grew even darker and focused entirely on hers.
In the distance, she heard shouts, the sounds of running feet. In spite of that her awareness of Nik grew more and more intense. For the first time she realized that her legs were spread, and his were between them. She could feel the hard length of him growing even harder and pressing against her center. It wasn’t just golden flecks she could see in his eyes. It was desire—as hot and as reckless as what was building inside of her.
Never taking his gaze from hers, he rocked into her once. J.C. felt as if she’d been caught in a backdraft of flames. It was a wonder that anything remained of her but cinders. He moved against her again, harder this time, and more heat shot through her. If he thrust against her once more, she was going to climax. Even now, she could feel the little ripples beginning. She had to stop them, but she wasn’t at all sure that she could.
“You’re so responsive,” Nik murmured.
He knew, she realized. He knew that she was about to come.
“Is she all right?”
Nik jerked his head up, and in some part of her mind—whatever was left of it—J.C. recognized Captain Parker’s voice.
“She’s alive,” Nik said. “Did you find the bastard yet?”
“I’ve got teams fanning out. They’re checking the buildings in the area you said the bullet came from.”
J.C. was finding it difficult to concentrate on what the two men were talking about. How could she when she was so aware of Nik? And she was so close to a climax. If either of them moved, she was very much afraid that she was going to come. She didn’t even dare to breathe. Instead, she concentrated on not wrapping her legs around him and finishing what he’d begun.
“Better keep her covered for a few more minutes,” Parker said. J.C. caught the sound of footsteps retreating.
“Now,” Nik whispered against her ear. Then he pushed against her and kept the pressure hard. “Come for me, now.”
J.C. couldn’t stop it, couldn’t contain the huge wave of pleasure that was already pulsing through her. She sank into it, giving herself over to the orgasm and to the man who was giving it to her.
Somehow, she lost track of time, not sure ho
w many seconds or minutes had passed before she finally latched on to a coherent thought. Opening her eyes, she found Nik regarding her steadily. She had the distinct feeling that her world was spinning out of control.
He levered himself up, then swore. “Shit. Your arm is bleeding. Why didn’t you tell me that bastard shot you?”
She followed his gaze and saw that her shirt was torn, her upper arm red. “I might have if you hadn’t distracted me.”
But he wasn’t listening. He was barking orders for an ambulance into his cell phone while he helped her into a sitting position, then ripped the tear in her shirt wider. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the car. We have a problem, Houston, she told herself. More than one problem actually. First off there was Nik Angelis. This was a man who’d just given her the best climax of her life—and they hadn’t even taken their clothes off. Never mind that he didn’t even like her and that she’d just risen to the top of his jobs-he-most-hated list.
What in hell was she going to do about him?
Somehow it was easier to think about the problem of Snake Eyes, who seemed determined to kill her….
What in hell was she going to do about him?
NIK STOOD IN the doorway of the room they’d wheeled J.C. into and watched while a nurse inspected the wound in her arm.
“You’re a lucky girl, Ms. Riley,” the nurse said. “It’s just a scratch.”
That had been his own diagnosis; still, Nik felt the knot in his stomach ease just a bit when he heard the official words.
“My luck has just run out if you’re thinking of sticking a needle in me,” J.C. replied.
“Not my call,” the nurse said with a chuckle. “I’m just supposed to clean it. The doctor makes the needle decisions.”
“Does he accept bribes?” J.C. asked.
Nik nearly joined the nurse when she laughed. The fact that J.C. was back in fighting mode eased more of the tension that he’d been feeling. That had been a damn close call back at that parking lot.
Satisfied that she was in safe hands for the moment, he moved to the end of the corridor and signaled to the uniformed officer standing just inside the hospital entrance. Captain Parker had sent a patrol car to escort them to the emergency room as an added safety measure.
When the young officer reached him, Nik said, “I have something I need to check on, so I want you to stand at Ms. Riley’s door. No one but the doctor is to go in. And make sure he’s the doctor, okay? Look at his ID tag.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nik was about to turn away when he added, “And under no circumstances are you to let Ms. Riley come out of that room until I get back. Handcuff her to a radiator if you have to. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Nik hurried into the nearest elevator and punched the sixth floor. That was where Roman Oliver was. He’d wheedled the information out of the nurse at the reception desk while J.C. was filling out forms. This wasn’t his case—he was going as a friend, not as a cop, he tried to tell himself. And that was partially true. He’d already tried calling the desk, and no information about Roman’s condition was being released. But he also wanted to see the players. And if Roman was conscious…
The elevator door slid open and as Nik stepped out, he could see the Oliver family through the glass wall of the waiting room. A quick scan told him that Sadie wasn’t there and neither was Juliana. He’d had time to check and discover that the second 911 call had indeed been made by Sadie Oliver. It had been a long shot, but he’d been hoping to find her here.
He recognized most of the people in the room. Mario Oliver, Roman’s father, looked every bit the successful multimillionaire businessman. He was tall and handsome with distinguished-looking gray hair. Right now he was talking to an attractive blonde who was seated on one of the couches, her hand on the arm of the young man sitting next to her. That had to be Mario’s new wife, Deanna Mancuso Oliver, and her son Eddie.
Nik searched his memory. Mario had married Deanna…when? A year ago? Roman hadn’t been totally pleased about the marriage, and Kit had accepted an invitation to the wedding to lend moral support. The only other people in the waiting room were a uniformed officer sitting in a chair near the door and a tall man in his early thirties standing near a TV set. That had to be Michael Dano, who headed up the legal department. If Nik remembered correctly, Sadie Oliver worked under him at Oliver Enterprises.
Nik noted that the TV was tuned to Channel Five News. Carla Mitchell, TV Five’s star correspondent, was standing on the steps at St. Peter’s Church, and the flash headline beneath her read Murder and Mayhem at a Wedding.
How long would it be before the press would be camped out in front of St. Jude’s, he wondered. When he spotted a uniformed officer standing sentinel in front of one of the doors, he headed toward him.
“How is he?” Nik asked as he showed the officer his ID.
“I don’t know, sir,” the officer replied. “They’ve got him hooked up to a lot of machines.”
Nik nodded as he pushed the door open.
“The doctors don’t want anyone going in, sir. They asked me to—”
“I won’t go in,” Nik said. He didn’t have to. Roman’s head was wrapped in bandages and his face was pale. The only sounds in the room were the beeps and hums of the various machines. As Nik listened to them and watched the man who was attached to them, images flashed through his mind—Roman swimming to shore with Philly holding on to his back, Roman playing tennis with Theo and beating him, Kit arm wrestling with Roman at The Poseidon. Roman joining the entire Angelis clan on the dance floor.
“You just missed your brother, Detective.”
Nik turned to see Mario Oliver approaching. “I’m sorry about this, sir. How is he?”
“Are you here in an official capacity?”
Nik hesitated for a moment. “Maybe you could call it semiofficial. I’m not assigned to this case. I arrived first on the scene at St. Peter’s and called it in—Kit must have told you that already. But I do want to find out what happened tonight. Have you heard from your daughter Juliana yet?”
Mario studied him for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision. “No, I haven’t heard from her.”
“And your daughter Sadie?”
Something flickered in Mario’s eyes. “We haven’t been able to reach her yet.”
Nik glanced back into the room where Roman was lying. “How is he?”
“The doctors say he has a skull fracture. They’re more worried about the swelling at the base of his spine. If it doesn’t go down by morning, they’re going to have to operate. Until they reach that decision, they’re keeping him sedated. They don’t want him to move. I’ve already given that information to your captain.”
“Do they think he’ll recover?”
“If you’re asking if he’ll be paralyzed, they don’t know yet. But they’re hopeful.”
Keeping his eyes on Roman, Nik asked, “Kit filled you in?”
“Yes.”
Nik met Mario’s eyes again. “I’m going to do everything in my power to find out what really happened at that church.”
Mario nodded. “Your brother said as much a short while ago. And I’ll be doing the same. I’m not afraid of the truth, Detective. My Roman didn’t do what he’s being suspected of.”
“Did you know about the wedding, Mr. Oliver?”
“Mario? Is there a problem?”
Nik turned to see Michael Dano approaching.
“No,” Mario said. Nik wasn’t sure whose question the older man was answering.
Mario made the introductions, then said to Dano, “Detective Angelis is Kit’s brother. He’s going to help us find the truth.”
As Nik took his leave, he was pretty sure that Michael Dano wasn’t as convinced of that as Roman’s father was.
6
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” J.C. asked as Nik pulled his car out of the emergency room parking lot. It was the first time she’d spoken to him since they’d arriv
ed at the hospital.
“Somewhere you’ll be safe,” he replied.
“A safe house?”
“Technically, it’s not a safe house. But you’ll be safe. It’s where I live.”
Silence fell in the car. Nik sensed that it wasn’t an easy silence for either of them. They hadn’t talked yet about what had happened right after she’d been shot and they’d been lying on the pavement. He’d given it more than a little thought during the ride to the hospital and then after he’d visited Roman while waiting outside her room. So had she, he wagered. His own conclusions did not make him happy. The attraction he felt for J.C. Riley was so strong, so primitive, that his control around her seemed to be touch and go. Mostly go.
He couldn’t allow that to continue. If he was going to do his job and protect her, he had to keep his relationship with her strictly business.
J.C. turned in her seat to look out the rear window. “How do you know we’re not being followed?”
A valid question, he thought. He’d dismissed his police escort because he thought it unlikely that anyone had tailed them to the hospital. “There’s a good chance that the shooter took off as soon as he took that shot. Parker checked the neighborhood pretty thoroughly. And I took some precautions on my way to the emergency room. If he’s smart, he’ll check the emergency rooms, and eventually he’ll learn you’ve been there. But it’s doubtful that he could get that information this quickly.”
“You’re sure of that?” She glanced through the rear window again, and Nik noticed that her hands were clasped tightly together in her lap, the knuckles white. She’d been a real trooper in the E.R., but reaction was setting in.
“Just to be sure, let’s try this.” At the next corner, he took a quick left turn the wrong way onto a one-way street.
“What are you—”
“Tell me if you see anyone following us.”