by Lara Lacombe
“You’re assuming she knows the full scope of what’s happening. I don’t think that’s actually the case. An operation like this doesn’t stay secret if all the players know exactly what’s going on. I think she might only know what they’re telling her, and they only tell her enough to keep her from getting suspicious.”
Hannah tilted her head to the side, regarding him as if he were some kind of exotic puzzle. “Why are you defending her? I figured you’d be excited about this new lead.”
“I am,” he assured her. “But I have to keep an open mind. If I go in thinking I have everything figured out, I run the risk of missing an important clue.”
“I guess that was my problem,” she said, dropping her head. Her finger moved idly across the surface of the table, tracing the scratches and grooves that had been etched into the wood over the years. “I never thought the people I worked with were anything other than what I saw every day.”
“Why would you?” He leaned forward and captured her wandering hand with his own, entwining their fingers. “You’re not a paranoid person, Hannah. It isn’t in your nature to suspect everyone around you of wrongdoing.”
She shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled her injured arm.
“Time for another dose of pain meds?”
“Not yet.”
A sigh built in his chest. Why was she being so stubborn? “Remember what the nurse said—you need to take the medication regularly, or it won’t work properly. If you wait until you’re in too much pain, it’s too late.”
She glanced up then, a flash of anger in her eyes. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said tightly.
His brows shot up at her reaction. “Okay,” he said, leaning back to give her some space. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. I don’t like for you to be in pain.”
A quiet breath escaped her, and she seemed to deflate a little before his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just having a little trouble processing everything, you know?”
Owen nodded, but as she wasn’t looking at him, she didn’t see his response.
“What if...” She paused, then shook herself. When she spoke again, her voice was so quiet he had to lean forward to catch the words. “What if my accident all those years ago wasn’t really an accident?”
So she shared his suspicions. He felt a brief flash of relief, knowing that he wouldn’t have to be the one to plant that particular seed in her mind. Still, best to let her explore the idea without pressure from him. Even though the thought of someone deliberately hurting her made his blood boil, he had to focus on the case at hand. There would be time later to make sure that the people responsible for the lab explosion were brought to justice.
“Is that what you think?”
“If you’d asked me that ten minutes ago, my answer would have been no. But now, after hearing Shelly’s voice answering a phone number that’s linked to the deaths of innocent people? I can’t shake the feeling that the corruption at ChemCure Industries goes back years.”
Owen said nothing, but he silently agreed with her. He’d had a bad feeling about the company since his first conversation with Marcia Foley. There was something off about her, and the way she kept trying to insinuate herself into his investigation. Most people wanted nothing to do with the police, and they were always eager for him to leave. But not Marcia. She was a little too happy to talk to him, and the lunch she’d insisted on the other day had been a complete waste of time.
He couldn’t tell if she was actively trying to obstruct his investigation, or if she was just really bad at conveying a romantic interest. Either way, her behavior was suspicious.
And why had she called him again last night? She hadn’t left a message, and he hadn’t bothered trying to reach her. But should he? What if she had finally decided to be honest with him? Could he afford to ignore her now?
“Do you think I’m off base?”
Hannah’s question pulled him out of his head. She was watching him, her eyes shiny but focused. Her world is imploding, he reminded himself. The least he could do was pay attention to their conversation, rather than drifting off on mental tangents.
“No,” he replied, trying to put all the conviction he felt into his voice. “You’re not. You’re a scientist, which makes you a logical person. You’re just looking at the evidence in a new way.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t like feeling this way.”
“I don’t blame you.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she rewarded him with a small smile. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How can you be sure?” Her vulnerability bruised his heart, but he knew she wouldn’t respond to empty promises or casual reassurances.
“I’m not,” he said honestly. “But I can’t dwell on the alternative.” He was surprised to find it was the truth. After so many months of seeing only the dark, only the gray, in life, was he really looking for the light? Was he really seeking out the positive? It was what John would want, he knew. In his mind’s eye, he could see his old partner wearing his “I told you so” expression, one brow arched in amusement and arms crossed.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Hannah replied. “I have to confess, you had me worried yesterday.”
Before he could figure out what exactly she meant by that, Nate stuck his head in the room. “Owen? We’re ready to move.”
He stood, excitement bubbling in his stomach. Time to get these guys, to put an end to the damage and destruction they were causing.
He was halfway to the door before he realized Hannah hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you coming?”
She looked up, confusion in her eyes. “What do you mean? I thought I was supposed to stay here.”
“No, you’re not.”
Nate cleared his throat. “I’ll just wait outside. Why don’t you find me when you’re ready.”
Owen glanced at him. “Don’t go far. This won’t take long.”
Hannah’s brows shot up. “I didn’t think you’d want me to tag along.”
“And why is that?”
She gestured toward her right arm, cradled in the heavy cloth sling the hospital had provided for her. “I’m not exactly in fighting form.”
He fought back a smile. “Good thing you won’t be fighting, then.”
“What exactly will I be doing?” She kept her voice casual, but there was an underlying thread of worry in her tone.
“You’ll be staying with the paramedics,” he explained. “The ambulance will be a few blocks away, just in case anything happens.”
Some of the color drained out of her face, and her eyes widened. “You think something will happen?”
“No,” he replied automatically, his assurance echoed by Nate, who spoke a split second later. Hannah looked from him to the doorway, her fear morphing into amusement.
“Well, I guess that settles things,” she said drily. “Am I supposed to do anything, or shall I just sit there and twiddle my thumbs?”
He started to nod in agreement, but the sudden gleam in her eyes made him feel uneasy. “That’s the general idea,” he tried.
“I don’t think so,” she responded. “If you’re dragging me along, I want to be useful.”
A strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh drifted in from the hall. Owen heaved a mental sigh. Damn Nate! Why couldn’t his partner back him up on this?
“What do you think you could do that would be useful to this operation?”
That seemed to give her pause. She rocked back on her heels and bit her bottom lip, the pressure from her teeth making the soft pink flesh go pale. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, and he had the sudden, intense urge to kiss her until her lips were red and swollen. He shook himself, dismissing the thought.
“I’m not sure,” she sa
id, starting to sound doubtful. “But I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I also don’t need a babysitter.”
That was a little harder to refute, as his motivation for leaving her with the paramedics was to make sure someone was with her at all times. No way was he going to leave her alone again, not when there was an unknown assailant trying to hurt her. He cast about for something benign to say and was saved when Nate stuck his head back into the room.
“We need you in the ambulance because you’ve worked with these chemicals before, and you’ll know how to neutralize them in case someone is exposed.”
Owen glanced at his partner, trying to hide his surprise. As excuses went, it was a good one. How had he come up with that so quickly?
Hannah turned her thoughtful gaze on Nate, and Owen felt a bit of relief at no longer being in the hot seat. “I see,” she said, the words practically dripping with doubt. It was clear she saw the lie for what it was, but he couldn’t tell if she was going to challenge it or let it slide.
He held his breath while Hannah looked from him to Nate and then back again. Her expression communicated volumes, but after a moment, she merely nodded. “Well, then,” she said, stepping forward to give Owen’s shoulder a friendly pat as she moved to the door. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
Owen released his breath on a sigh, surprised to hear the same sound coming from Nate. He cocked a brow at the other man, and Nate raised his hands defensively. “What? She kind of scares me.”
“That was a nice save,” he muttered, careful to keep his voice low so Hannah wouldn’t overhear.
“I have my moments,” Nate replied. “But I have to admit, I’m surprised you wanted her to come along. I figured you’d want her to stay here.”
Owen shook his head. “Nope. I want her as close to me as possible.” He didn’t elaborate. He knew his growing dependence on Hannah was probably a sign of weakness, but he didn’t care. After losing John, he felt an almost uncontrollable need to know where she was, to make sure she was safe. He wasn’t going to lose her the way he had his friend, and the only way he knew to keep her safe was to keep her by him. Her proximity guaranteed his peace of mind, something he wasn’t willing to risk today.
Nate stopped, a speculative light entering his eyes as he regarded Owen. “Is it serious?”
Wasn’t that a loaded question? And how exactly was he going to answer it?
At this point, Owen figured he had two options. He could deny Nate’s suspicions, which would only make his partner press harder. Or he could come clean and admit that he did have feelings for Hannah. It was probably best for him to be honest. Besides, Nate had walked in on them practically kissing in her hospital room. It would be an insult to the man’s intelligence to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. Still, that didn’t mean he had to confess that his feelings for Hannah went well beyond a fling.
In the end, he settled for honesty. It was the easiest thing, and he didn’t want to lie to his partner. They were still getting to know each other, but if Owen started lying to Nate now, their partnership was doomed before it ever really got going.
“I care about her,” Owen responded. “A lot more than I probably should.”
Nate studied him for a moment, his expression morphing from teasing to serious. “Nothing wrong with caring about a person,” he said simply.
Owen jerked up one shoulder in a shrug, acknowledging the point.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad to hear it.” Nate clapped a hand on Owen’s shoulder, giving him a friendly squeeze. “I’m happy to see you’re coming out of your shell a bit, at least where women are concerned.”
“Thanks. I think.” Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Owen nodded toward the room at large. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
“Lead the way. You’re the man with the plan.”
Owen nodded and kept his head up as he walked through the squad room, trying to project an air of absolute confidence despite the fact that he felt as if he’d just chugged a bottle of champagne. Nerves were a normal part of any operation. Besides, he was working with the best guys on the force.
What could possibly go wrong?
* * *
Hannah walked a few steps behind Owen, her eyes glued to his back. She couldn’t look away—she was hungry for the sight of him, as if it had been weeks or even months since she’d last seen him. Part of it was her growing attachment to him, but there was a small, morbid part of her that worried this might be the last time she saw him.
He’ll be fine, she told herself sternly. He knows what he’s doing.
It was the truth, but her fears would not be put to rest so easily. Even the most careful plan couldn’t account for all possible variables. What if he was hit by a stray bullet? Or someone bashed him over the head as he walked in the door? Her imagination kicked into overdrive, spinning increasingly disturbing fantasies that all shared the same outcome: Owen, bleeding or dead, and her powerless to help him.
She couldn’t lose him now. Not when she had let down her walls, let him inside her heart.
It was silly, she knew. After all, they’d only known each other for a few days. But in that short amount of time, she’d been able to see what kind of man he was. Proud. Determined. Honorable. And kind.
He’d been so gentle with her last night. So achingly tender. Just the memory of his hands, his lips against her skin made her shiver, and a rash of goose bumps broke out across her arms.
Owen had given her a precious gift. Intellectually, she had recognized that she would one day sleep with a man again, perhaps even have some kind of lasting relationship. But she had always envisioned this mystery man as ignoring her scars, or at best, merely tolerating them. She certainly hadn’t expected anyone to lavish attention on them.
But Owen had blasted through those low expectations, and in the process had shown her what was really possible. He celebrated her body, all of it. The scars hadn’t affected his touch or muted his words. Neither had they dulled his own excitement. Her cheeks warmed as she recalled the feel of his arousal against her lower back. He had wanted her, scars and all. And she had reveled in it.
Even though they hadn’t had sex, Hannah still felt closer to him than to any other man. Even Jake, her former fiancé, hadn’t compared. Sure, she and Jake had been physically involved, but on an emotional level, Owen made her realize that what she’d had with Jake had been superficial and immature. And having experienced something so profound, Hannah wasn’t willing to settle for anything less. How could she? Owen had made her realize that she not only deserved more, but also that she could have it. It was a lesson that had taken her a long time to learn, and she refused to go back to the way things used to be.
Owen came to a stop and pushed open a door, holding it for her to follow him. She stepped through and gave in to the temptation to lean in close as she passed him, trying to be subtle as she inhaled. His scent filled her senses, that unique combination of detergent, soap and the warm musk of his skin. She’d woken with his smell on her this morning, feeling safe for the first time in days. She’d hated having to bathe, as it made her feel as if she was washing away part of her memories of last night. But she’d been covered in iodine, dried blood and the sticky remnants of tape and bandages, so despite her desire to hold on to the magic of the night before, the bath had been a necessity.
Owen met her eyes as she passed, and for the briefest second, she saw a flare of heat in his dark blue eyes. So he was remembering, too. The realization made her skin feel warm and tingly, as if she’d just stepped out of a hot bath. They hadn’t had time to talk this morning—everything had moved so quickly, and they couldn’t very well have a discussion about their fledgling relationship in front of all his coworkers. But she needed to speak to him. There were so many emotio
ns and feelings swirling around inside her that she felt volatile, as if the slightest provocation would set her off. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to hold Owen tight and never let go. But at the same time, she wanted to run away and hide, to take some time to herself to figure out just how her world had transformed over the course of a few short hours.
Did Owen feel the same? Was he as affected by her as she was by him? It was hard to tell. He’d been tense and removed today, wearing a demeanor of professional detachment like a suit of armor. But as she’d watched him, as she’d cataloged the various ways he interacted with his colleagues and his boss, she’d realized he was nervous. He hid it well. No one could tell by looking at him. But she’d studied him closely and had seen the way his expressions shifted and his body moved. The way his mouth turned down in a small frown when he thought no one was paying attention, or his habit of rubbing his thumb down his index finger in a repetitive motion that was oddly soothing to watch.
She reached for his hand now, giving it a quick squeeze as she walked by. Even though they couldn’t talk, she needed to touch him, to reassure him that she was here, that he wasn’t alone. Her heart jumped a bit when he lifted his hand, but he paused just before he touched her, his gaze flicking over to encompass the other officers before returning to hers. She nodded subtly, ignoring the small sting that accompanied his refusal. Of course he couldn’t acknowledge her in that way, not in front of the guys. Their relationship was still new, still fragile, and she couldn’t expect him to go shouting it from the rooftops. Especially not when the case that had brought them together was still active.
Maybe he read her thoughts, or maybe he just shared them. But as Owen released the door, he leaned forward, his lips almost brushing her ear. “Soon,” he whispered, trailing a finger down the center of her back, the light touch tracing the valley of her spine. Hannah didn’t try to suppress the delicious shiver of anticipation that thrummed through her body. Was it wrong that she still felt such a strong, elemental pull toward Owen in the midst of this stressful situation? What did that say about her, that she was focused on her physical desires, when he was getting set to walk into danger in an effort to prevent the deaths of more innocent people?