Trust No One

by Barbara Phinney

  Nick's stare riveted to her, drilling in hard. "Who is Scott? What does he have to do with Cooms?"

  "Nothing." She realized then that she had to tell him everything. "He doesn't have any part in your investigation." She sighed. "Look, after my father died, I got involved with this guy I'd met at the hospital. It turned out he was a con artist who preyed on women. But before I learned that, he emptied my bank account and my overdraft protection."

  A rather peculiar light dawned on Nick's face, but she ignored it, feeling a bit shocked that the whole conversation wasn't as hard to bear as she first anticipated. "How much did he steal?" Nick asked.

  "He stole almost ten thousand dollars. I'm still paying the bank back the overdraft protection amount. In fact, if I'd been working now, I'd be making the final payment. I've been so looking forward to getting them off my back, too."

  "Did Mark mention that when he interviewed you?"

  "Yes. He knew all about the details. I guess he didn't tell you."

  "Not all of it." Understanding brightened his face. "That's why you moved out of your mother's house, wasn't it? They'd begun to harass her, too."

  She nodded. "Years before, when I first opened that account, we made it a joint account. So legally, she was responsible, too. And that bank knew she had insurance money, and that she'd pay it all back for me, too, but I stopped her. Don't let anyone tell you bank executives only want to help you." That last sentence dripped with derision.

  "When we moved out of military housing, I moved into my own place and made arrangements to pay the money back. I made sure that they didn't know where she'd moved to. I didn't want to leave my mother alone, but I had to. My credit was ruined for seven years. I didn't want my mother's to be, too. She had her house to buy. She needed a new car, too."

  "Why did you get involved with this guy?" His face slackened. "You were looking for comfort." His words, though, had no tone and she shut her eyes.

  "Make up any excuse you want, but that's why I told Jamie I didn't want to get involved. I'd already learned from my mistakes. Jamie, however, knew all the right things to say."

  She noticed Nick's jaw clench as he crossed his arms. He looked like he was trying to hold something inside of him. Something fighting to be released. "See? You're still looking for someone to protect you."

  Hadn't he been listening to her? "I can protect myself. I've learned that much."

  He made a short, disbelieving noise. "Listen, sweetheart, don't mistake a bit of spunk for the ability to keep yourself safe."

  Anger roiled inside of her. She stalked across the few feet that separated them and grabbed his arm. "I'm not mistaken about anything. Besides, Nick Thorndike, you couldn't protect me, because you're too busy pushing away those who give a damn just so they won't hurt you. You're too busy being an island and not getting involved with anyone."

  "Too late for that," he muttered. "I'm already involved and I want to nip it in the bud."

  She held his gaze, determined to show him her courage, determined to show him how foolish he was acting. "Nip it in the bud? Whatever we have between us, Nick, blossomed that night you tried to make love to me!"

  "I came to my senses, didn't I?" He turned away. "And it didn't 'blossom' as you so delicately put it. If it had, believe me, we wouldn't be standing here arguing about it. We'd be upstairs keeping it well and truly alive."

  Helen moved closer, trying to recapture his attention, coming close enough to smell again the zest of his aftershave. "You're already involved. You said that. You were when you took the undercover assignment and played up to Jamie. Long before you met me. And now we're involved with each other. You proved that on your couch over there."

  He grabbed her, but instead of hauling her into a tight embrace, he kept her at arm's length. "That's what I'm trying to remedy here! I got involved with you and it was a big mistake. I did it only because I'd just been suspended and wasn't thinking straight." His voice rose. "Now, will you listen? I can't do this job if I'm worrying about you all the time. Someone wants you dead. They've killed Cooms! Don't think for a minute it's just Darlington. He's working for someone, not plotting all of this himself. It's someone else. And I don't want to protect you, damn it!"

  He stared hard at her and then, muttering some kind of curse, he clamped his lips down on hers, smothering her answer.

  She slumped into him. He felt heavenly. His arms held her close and she wanted nothing more than to mold her body to his long, hard frame.

  Was he right? Was she only looking for a white knight to protect her?

  With a groan, Nick wrenched his mouth away from hers. "I don't want to argue anymore." He scooped her up, causing her to gasp. She knew she was tiny, but no man had ever carried her anywhere.

  Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she peered over his shoulder as he carried her upstairs. He lay her on his bed, the same bed in which she'd slept so lightly last night. The same bed she'd made up this morning.

  The room was cool and lit only by the light from downstairs. Nick flipped on a small reading lamp at the far side, near a narrow window. He returned to the bed and drew her into his arms the second he sat down.

  "See what you do to me? I'm trying to save your life, keep you safe for the real white knight. The one you deserve. But I can't. I'm not as strong as I figured I was." He swore softly, the brush of it barely reaching her face. "When it comes to you, Helen, I'm not the white knight you should have. I'm a suspended cop who'll break the rules whenever he feels like it. That includes relationships. Because in my experience, they aren't worth the rules."

  He leaned closer to her and in the gentle light of the tiny lamp, his face showed his anguish. "You said you don't do relationships, but you do. You're careful with your love and I don't want you to waste it on me."

  She opened her mouth to speak, not even sure what she was going to say, but Nick stopped her words with a deep, firm kiss.

  She pulled back. "Nick, we're two of a kind, more than you think. And if you don't want to admit that, or this attraction, that's okay."

  His mouth trailed over her jaw, down to the soft underparts and into the tender hollow of her throat. She felt as well as heard his answer. "I admitted this attraction when I tried to make love to you on my couch. I've been keeping it at bay ever since."

  She wanted to cry out to him, to beg him to never push it away again. His lips seared her skin, stealing her breath and forcing her body to arch instinctively toward him. His lips stopped at the neckline of her T-shirt. "Please…"

  She had no idea why she said that word. It rolled from her lips with a sigh that told him more than anything else could. She had no doubt of that. And the T-shirt she'd pulled on after the shower felt constricting. She wanted to tear it off.

  Nick's fingers freed the shirt hem and slipped under to brush against her skin. She had no bra on and the anticipation of his hands discovering that fact for themselves made her draw in and hold a deep, expectant breath.

  Someone groaned when the tips of Nick's fingers bumped gently into the rounded bottom of her breast. Her, him, both? She wasn't sure who had made the noise. Nick lifted his mouth from the base of her throat and recaptured her lips.

  There was no sense to this lovemaking. Someone wanted her dead, her family was in danger and the only man who could help her had just told her he wasn't the white knight she needed.

  But still, as Nick's warm hand covered her breast and another hot sigh escaped from her slack mouth, Helen knew only one thing.

  She didn't care. Not one bit.

  Chapter 11

  Nick couldn't believe how wrong it was to bring her up here. But like the night he had laid her down on his couch, after he'd been suspended, he wanted to shove the world away.

  And experience Helen. Yeah, that was the word to use. Experience her. Her breasts felt heavy, smooth and warm under his hand, the nipple he'd just teased with his thumb puckered into a firm nub of desire. She'd just sighed against his cheek and the heat went straight
to his groin. Tonight he would finish what he'd started on the couch, the night he'd found her. There were no impediments of mental instability, unless he counted the way she made him feel right now.

  He could even forget how much danger they were in. Danger like someone wanting her dead, and by his association to her, wanting him dead, too.

  Danger like falling for this tiny damsel in distress who needed someone a heck of a lot less tainted by the harsh realities of life.

  Someone who could give her a decent life.

  Someone who knew how to trust.

  Nick shoved the discouraging thoughts out of his head and slammed his mouth against hers. No more thinking.

  Helen wrapped her slim arms around his neck, stroking the spot at the back where his hair swirled into a defiant ducktail. Then her fingers traced disorienting lines of heat across the skin of his neck, lingering a few teasing minutes at the scar on his shoulder. She brushed the short, jagged line briefly, sending heat surging through the cotton. He wanted to rip off his shirt and let her work that intoxicating magic on his back.

  And he wanted to taste her, too. All of her.

  He leaned her back against the pillows, but remained upright, targeting his hands at the hem of her soft T-shirt.

  Helen shut her eyes. Her soft, pouty mouth parted as he lifted the shirt only until the bottom arcs of her breasts appeared.

  He stopped, allowing his eyes to feast on the hint of the banquet underneath. He allowed his fingers to graze in and under and against the brushed silk feel of her skin.

  Perfect.

  In texture and sight.

  Never in his life had he felt such wonder at a woman's body. In the past, now distant, he'd simply marveled at his bodily reaction, but now, Helen conjured up needs of total consummation, total desire to please her fully.

  He shoved the hem up farther, letting the edge flick over her taut nipples. Helen lifted her arms and with his help, removed the shirt. He flung it behind him.

  With willpower he hadn't thought he possessed, he resisted the urge to bury his face in her small cleavage.

  Instead, he teased each wanting nub, filling his palms with her and letting Helen satisfy only a small, rationed portion of his need.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. Holy cow, how'd this room get so hot? He ached and his erection swelled hard against his jeans, making him throb with excruciating pleasure.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her soft smile. Those lips smoothed and widened, parting as she let out a tender laugh. "Help yourself, Nick."

  He could hardly believe his ears. With a swipe of his arm across his forehead, he steeled himself. How was it possible for a half-scared woman like Helen to turn into such a wanton creature?

  She lifted her hands and captured his head, guiding him down to her bosom. Automatically, he opened his mouth and filled it with one of her hardened nipples.

  He suckled deeply, eliciting a deep, throaty moan from her, feeling her lithe body flex and gyrate under him.

  He had to get out of his jeans. Now.

  Tearing himself away from her, he stood. His member sprang free as he pushed the denim down over his hips.

  Helen murmured softly. He didn't catch the word, but he recognized the appreciative tone.

  He ripped off his shirt and took the moment to gaze at the woman on his bed. She still wore her own jeans. Good thing, for he'd have driven himself home, hard and fast, if she'd been laying there naked and waiting for him.

  "Take off my pants," she whispered.

  Leaning forward, he flicked the top button free. The scent of his soap on her warm, clean skin reached him, snaring his attention even more than he'd thought possible. His hands shaking, he pulled down the zipper. The low, raspy sound grated over him like the slow click of a weapon being cocked.

  He threw off the thought of work, of killing and protection and all that led to this very moment. Nothing was going to ruin his time in bed with her.

  Needing to still his nerves, he paused. His heart pounded in his ears and he clenched his hands into hard fists in an attempt to control the urges building in him.

  Damn it, he didn't have the control. With a hard yank, he peeled her jeans down her legs until his sheer impatience caused them to break free of her ankles.

  A thin pair of bikini panties was all that stood between him and paradise.

  His hands shook worse than before.

  Helen reached out and covered his fingers with her own. "Here." She guided her panties over her rounded hips, down those legs that seemed too long for such a petite woman, and flicked them over her feet.

  Then she yanked him down to her.

  Nick could smell her need. That musky, womanly scent he'd first inhaled on his couch. The memory still bombarded him. The merest hint of it swept it all back in waves of uncontrollable pleasure.

  He bent down and kissed her soft, flat belly. Purposely moving upward, he found each nipple still tight and waiting, and replenished his need for them.

  Abruptly, she wrapped her legs around him.

  "Now, Nick! Please!"

  She couldn't wait. He would have only been able to linger as long as she could, but it was impossible now. He shifted, the blunt end of his member bumping against her moist center.

  Helen flexed her hips and like a powerful magnet, drew him into her. They rocked, each caught up in their own need, each giving over control of their senses to the other until they found their rhythm.

  His controlled rhythm.

  His arms ached. He wanted this to last, to give her slow, delicious pleasure, but Helen had different ideas. And he couldn't argue.

  To hell with it. No more control, no more giving the physical pleasure without trying not to give himself.

  He let out a cry and dizzily, he thrust again and again, gliding on liquid silk. And with every internal clench, she owned him a little more.

  When she cried out herself, he opened his eyes. Her head was thrown back, her mouth relaxed into that soft pout which had become his undoing.

  Then he climaxed.

  * * *

  A sliver of early morning light cut through the dark bedroom when Nick opened his eyes. Automatically, he turned to his right to find Helen curled beside him, still fast asleep.

  Last night had been…well, mystical. But this morning, the rising sun brought back the truth with keen intensity. Someone wanted her dead. That person still felt Helen knew something she shouldn't know.

  And he was still suspended.

  He slipped away from Helen, glancing at the alarm clock as he rose. After eight. He'd slept in. Normally, he'd have been up for hours, even on his days off. As quietly as he could, he walked downstairs and straight for the phone.

  He called the station.

  "Hello, Sandra," he said to the woman who answered. Sandra was the clerk who came in several times a week. She was a pleasant woman who seemed genuinely upset that Nick had been suspended.

  "Nick! I've been thinking of you. How's things?"

  "Okay." He paused, wondering if he should even be doing this. Then he took the cordless phone and walked into the kitchen to make coffee while he talked.

  "Look, Sandra, would you do me a favor?"

  "Sure."

  "Is anyone in?"

  There was a pause and he held his breath. Finally, the clerk spoke. "No. The chief just stepped out and Mark worked last night in the city. I know that because he was just coming in when I was leaving last night. We're a bit behind, so I'm working all week. The others did the night shift. What do you need?"

  "Can you dig out Tony DiPetri's autopsy report?"

  There was another pause. Nick busied himself shoveling scoops of ground coffee into the filter basket, just to keep his hands from shaking. Why the hell was he doing this?

  Because he needed to know whether or not his beating on DiPetri had contributed to the man's death. What he was going to do with that information, he wasn't sure.

  A noise caught his attenti
on and he glanced out to the main room of his house, where he could see the last few steps of the stairs. Nothing but the wind. Helen was still asleep.

  "Nick?"

  He snapped his attention back to Sandra. "Yeah?"

  "I have the file, but it's empty."

  "Empty?"

  "Yes." Sandra shuffled some papers around. "That's odd. It was here yesterday when I filed it. Let me check around for it."

  Long, agonizing minutes ticked by. Finally, she returned. "I'm sorry. I can't find it anywhere."

  "Can you call Saint John and see if they'll send you another copy of it?"

  Sandra's voice sounded disturbed. "Yes, I think I will. In fact, I'll get them to fax it to me right away. I'll call you back." She hung up.

  Nick put the phone down and turned on the coffeemaker. Why would that autopsy report be missing? Had Mark taken it to Saint John with him? If so, why? They would have a copy of it as well. There would be no need.

  A creak on the stairs caught his attention. Seconds later, Helen appeared in the doorway. She wore the same clothes he'd peeled off her last night. Her hair was still mussed by sleep and a relaxed and dreamy expression lingered on her face.

  "Mmm. Coffee smells good," she murmured. "Did the phone ring? I must have slept like a log not to hear it."

  Nick stiffened. He thought about taking her back upstairs while the coffee brewed. He thought about the ways he could get her mind off his phone call. He didn't want her to know he was looking for some way to prove himself to her.

  Oh, hell, that admission hurt. "I called the station." He drew in a deep breath. "So, why don't we look at that last tape while the coffee's brewing?"

  * * *

  Helen nodded, wondering why Nick changed the subject so quickly. She'd caught the words "autopsy" and "copy" while she'd been walking down the stairs. Was he looking for a copy of Jamie's autopsy? Would it help find whoever was trying to kill her?

  She pivoted on the cool pine floor. She should trust Nick to do his job, even the job from which he'd been suspended. She should let him keep them both safe.

  No. She wasn't looking for that in a man.