Damn it, reach the end! Panic welled up in him, urging him to stretch out a little more, to drive himself into the thick forest.
One long, nasty branch scraped across his face, leaving a burning line that even the cold rain couldn't relieve.
There, ahead! He blinked, flicking back his wet hair as he focused on the snatches of Helen's bright jacket he could see through the trees. Again, he stumbled.
"Helen!" He leapt up again and roared through the few remaining trees, to the cliff's edge.
"Stop!"
Nick skidded when he heard Hunt's angry command. The chief waved a handgun to catch his attention.
"Another step and she dies, Thorndike."
But Nick was no longer thinking. "No!" he thundered. He flew forward while the gun was still high above Helen's head.
She ducked. Nick's arm clipped her hair as he aimed for his chief's throat. He caught it in his right hand, his left forearm ramming the gun up and out of the way.
Somewhere behind him, Helen fell free.
His momentum drove both men to the ground, inches from the jagged ledge. The thin layer of sand and sediment scraped under the chief's body.
Nick shoved his right knee up to Hunt's left arm, pinning the elbow under him. He then let go of his neck and with both hands, grabbed the hand holding the gun.
The gun fired. Immediately, dirt and rock chips hit the side of Nick's head. The weapon's report echoed across the wet cliff until it was absorbed into the lament of the wind and rain. Nick wanted to turn around, to make sure that the bullet hadn't ricocheted and hit Helen.
Instead he slammed Hunt's hand into the rocks. The gun fell away and tumbled over the cliff.
Nick loosened his grip, easing off the man's elbow at the same time.
The chief's big fist connected with Nick's jaw.
Nick felt his head snap over to his right and his teeth grind sickeningly against each other. He tumbled away, barely noting that the chief had leapt to his feet.
"Nick!" Helen screamed. It was too late. Hunt brought his knee straight up under Nick's chin, the tip of his boot driving itself deep into Nick's solar plexus.
Breath swooshed out of him the same time pain shot through his jaw.
"No!" Something scraped past his head. Helen had swung a large tree limb above him and into the chief's face.
The man swore violently, before throwing away the half-shattered branch. Nick shook off the swimming confusion and pain. Helen was okay, still alive, fighting back. He staggered to his feet and plowed into Hunt with an agonizing yell.
And the cliff edge disappeared behind them.
* * *
Helen tried to shout, but her vocal chords froze. Before her knees could collapse, she lurched to the edge of the cliff. Her heart pounded, pumping fear through to the very pores of her rain-soaked skin.
She threw back her long bangs and peered over the rocks. Lord, keep Nick safe, she prayed. Keep him—
The ledge below was empty. She gasped, her whole body vibrating as she collapsed to the jagged rocks and lowered herself down.
A gust of bay wind buffeted her, slamming her into the cliff face as she struggled to set down on the soft sand of the narrow ledge. There were scuff marks all around, leading to the edge that honestly, truly fell straight down to the raging surf.
Over the wind that roared in her ears, she heard something. A moan, a throaty gasp, she wasn't sure what it was, but it propelled her to the edge.
She wiped her drenched face and saw it. A hand. A big, meaty hand that tempted her to charge over and step on it and kick it away in anger.
Another hand. The coat was dark, lightweight.
Nick! It was Nick's hand!
She dropped to her knees, ignoring the battering they were getting on the hard, jagged stones.
"Nick!" She bent down and grasped on wrist. "Hang on!"
His other hand gave way and slipped down. "Helen…" He sounded so weak, her name garbled and pained.
No! She dug her fingers into his skin. "Grab my wrist."
He looked up at her. His jaw was swollen and misshapen. An angry slash, black with chips of dirt and wood, cut a line across his face. His lower lip was bleeding, dripping down his wet chin.
"Grab my wrist!" she repeated.
"You…not strong enough…" He looked up at her then, his eyes blurred with pain. He blinked, his lip quivered and he wore an expression of such terrible uncertainty, she wished she could halt time and reach out to stroke the doubt away.
She flattened herself down on the rocks and sand and reached over to grab his right elbow. "The hell I'm not strong enough!" Wind flicked his jacket up, entangling it with her cold, wet hands. She threw it off. "Trust me, Nick. I'm plenty strong enough."
He shut his eyes. His legs flailed uselessly around. For a panicked moment, she thought he was going to give up, let go and disappear down to the killer surf below.
She tightened her grip. "Use your other hand, Nick. And your feet. Don't let them dangle. Find a foothold."
He tried. Yes! His left arm reached up as she pulled on his elbow. He found a foothold and together they got his shoulders up above the ledge. She leaned forward to grab his belt, anything to help him.
She saw the chief.
Daylight seemed to be draining from the sky quickly, but she could still make out his blank features before another powerful wave swamped over him, battering his lifeless body against the rocks.
She blinked away the rain and focused on Nick's drenched back. Finding his belt, she let out a loud grunt and leaned backward.
Nick heaved himself up and together they crawled away from the edge. When she banged her head against the rock, she turned. Nick was close at her heels and she pulled him into her arms before rocking back.
He fell on her, burying his face into the soft, wet crook of her neck. She could feel the heat of his bleeding lip pressed to her skin. She tightened her own grip on him until he flinched.
"I'm sorry," she said, pushing away and peering into his face. His jaw looked sickeningly deformed and her heart squeezed at the sight.
She looked down his frame. Pulling him over the cliff had caused the rocks to scrape him from his chin to his waist. His shirt was open, torn in one spot and the skin on his chest was abraded and bleeding.
"Oh, Nick, for a while there, I didn't think you would ever come. You were so far away and the phone kept ringing and I knew it was you—"
He dragged her back into an embrace. Helen immediately shut her mouth, blocking the futile words of remorse. They held each other tightly, rocking with the wind, ignoring the steady downpour, the cold, the fear.
She opened her eyes, finding her gaze directed toward Nick's house. Another police car plowed up the driveway and several men threw open the doors. She lifted her hand to wave, but the men were already charging into the house. Forget it. They'll find them soon enough.
Nick released her. He looked horrified, his expression a mix of disbelief and wonder. "Helen, I—"
He swallowed and touched his lip. Then his hand gingerly probed the outline of his jaw. "I think my jaw's broke," he mumbled. "But hell, before they wire it shut, I want to say something to you."
"Don't." She covered his uplifted hand with her own and moved it to his side. "It can wait." She didn't know what he felt he must say, and she didn't want to know. He was safe. His career would resume and his life would go on. That was all she dared to hope for.
"No." He grabbed both her hands. He could barely move his mouth and his breath sounded labored. "No, Helen. Let me say this. It has to be said, not written down or kept inside of me until I heal." He stared directly into her eyes. "Until five minutes ago, I didn't know if I could trust you, or anyone for that matter. I didn't think you could pull me off the cliff, either. You always wanted a—"
She touched his lips, gently enough to avoid hurting him. "A white knight? Oh, Nick, you were right. I've always wanted a man who could protect me. And yet, at the same time, I was too
scared to look for one. My father had always been there for me. But I got mixed up with Scott Jackson and Jamie. I was afraid to trust my own judgment."
Nick flinched with pain as he tried to smile. "You don't need a white knight."
"But I need you. You, Nick! When you went over the cliff, I thought I'd lost you forever. I love you, Nick. I love you so much it hurts me inside to think of it. I know you're not a white knight." She let out a breathy laugh. "You know what? I felt like a superhero fighting with you. And these past few days have shown me I can survive without a protector. But I can't survive without you."
He looked pained, blinking away the rain as it streamed down his now puffed-up cheeks.
Suddenly, a loud crashing and shouting started above them. Helen looked up, spying Mark and another officer shining a flashlight down on them.
Mark took one look at Nick and turned to the other man. "Call an ambulance."
* * *
Helen cringed over the hospital bed. "He looks so different in the daylight. Are you sure he'll be allowed to leave tomorrow?"
Mark nodded when she turned to him for an answer. "His doctor only wants to keep him here one more night for observations."
"But he took a wicked tumble and two of his ribs are cracked. His jaw is broken in two places, don't forget."
"He'll be fine at home."
Pulling a face, she turned back to Nick just as his eyes fluttered open. "Hi," she said softly to him.
Unable to speak, he grunted something.
She smiled. "Now I have permission to tell you to shut up. The surgeon's wired your jaw shut, sewn up your lip and reset your ribs. Amazingly, he thinks you can go home tomorrow as long as you have someone to take care of you." She let her smile widen. "I volunteered."
Nick's gaze wandered to Mark. He frowned slightly, flicking his head and communicating something with his eyes.
"He's dead. They pulled him off the rocks last night."
Helen stared at Mark. "Who? The chief? How did you know what he was asking?"
Mark shrugged. "He's my partner. We know what each other is thinking. It comes in handy when you can't communicate verbally."
Nick shook his head, wincing all the while. He pulled his lips to say something. Helen reached out her hand.
"Ellis?" Mark interpreted.
"Chester?" she asked. "What does he have to do with this?"
"Ellis's actions were suspicious at best. Sneaking into your apartment. Selling real estate to Cooms. But we've pretty much got it figured out."
Helen felt Nick's grip on her fingers tighten.
Mark nodded. "Seems you were right, Nick. He was—is—in love with Helen. But rather than sending her roses, he decided to win her heart proving that Jamie Cooms was no good for her."
Helen shook her head. "What? How?"
Mark looked at her. "Remember, he was once a Customs Officer. He knew who to suspect, who to watch. He'd sold Cooms that land in hopes he'd get in tight with Cooms and do his own undercover investigation." He chuckled. "A bit of an amateur, and Cooms knew it, too, I bet. That's why he removed the tape from your apartment and hid it at your mother's. Ellis has been advised about leaving the investigative work to us."
Helen stole a glance at Nick. He shrugged. She refused to allow this conversation to continue. "I don't think now's the time to get a rundown of all that's happened. You're loaded up with morphine. And decongestants so you don't sneeze and blow your brains out your nose." A nervous giggle slipped out as she set down his hand. "There'll be plenty of time to talk tomorrow when you're feeling better."
Nick stared at her, his eyes soft and pleading, his swollen, stitched lip moving down slightly. He reached out his hand, awkwardly, with the back of it covered with tape where the IV still remained lodged in his vein. His eyes were limpid, glistening with urgent emotion, but his grip was surprisingly strong. She stroked a section of his dark hair away from his forehead. "Now that I understand. I love you, too. And we'll talk about it later. I promise. Get some sleep."
He nodded and shut his eyes.
By the next morning, Helen decided she was used to the change in Nick's face. Still swollen, but not as much, his face looked heavy and strong. While it changed his whole appearance, his eyes remained the same dark, deep pools.
With a straw, he sucked up the last of the meal replacement she'd found in the ward kitchen. "All right," she said, taking the glass. "That's the last of the chocolate, but there's one more vanilla and two strawberry packets."
"Hate fanilla."
She smiled. "I'll go to the store later and buy some chocolate. I'd never have pegged you a chocoholic."
"Imma cop. We eat choc-lut."
"The dietitian you met this morning would have a fit if she heard you weren't planning to stick to the diet she gave you."
Nick pulled a face as he tried to get more comfortable. Quickly, she helped him get resettled. The IV had come out earlier and they were just waiting on the doctor to release him.
"Fanks," he mumbled.
When she sat down next to him, he took her hand. "We need ta' talk."
She nodded. He needed to find out every last detail. And she needed to tell him how she felt, what she'd realized the day before yesterday.
"Yes, but I'll talk, you listen." She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the grisly details she'd learned from Mark yesterday. "They scooped Dennis Hunt's body out of the water after the ambulance left. He'd broken his neck in the fall. Yesterday, they found his gun lodged between two rocks about halfway down. Oh, yes, he had the two missing bullets in his pocket. He must have been planning to get rid of them after he was through with me."
Nick swallowed. With a frown, he muttered, "G'on."
"Well," she said, settling down on the bed closer to him, half-hoping that touching him would help her cope with all the facts. "After you went into surgery, they interrogated Clive and Mills again. Mills still isn't talking, but Clive is hoping to plea bargain, Mark said. He's been in enough trouble and knows if he doesn't plea bargain, he's looking at life behind bars. He said your chief had visited him in jail and offered him more money than he earned with Jamie, if he did a few jobs when he got out. Shortly after he was released, Jamie was murdered.
"They also found the missing ballistic reports in Hunt's briefcase. The same gun killed both Jamie and Tony. It looks like it's the one your chief had."
Nick shook his head in confusion.
"The handgun was registered in Hunt's name. Mark said Hunt had it for target practice only. Clive admitted that Jamie told him to steal it from the chief's house. Jamie then killed Tony with it, to keep Hunt involved."
"Like he did with me. It doesn't surprise me. Why was the chief involved in all of this?"
"For the money. To pad his retirement fund. But I think the whole business got out of hand, too much for even the chief."
She shuddered at the thought. "He'd known about Jamie's entire illegal empire for ages and for a price, he was willing to thwart the undercover investigation. When he found me at your house, he admitted he knew Jamie had something on him, but didn't know what." She paused. "I accidentally let it slip about the tape."
"G'on."
"Well, thanks to you remembering that Globatech had made the laptop, Mark was able to piece together most of what happened. Clive filled in the rest. The laptop was like my VCR. It had been imported through Globatech, filled with cocaine. Jamie, in one of his generous moods, I suppose, gave the laptop to your chief, who made a mistake when he asked Jones to look at it. It had kept crashing and Jones was computer savvy enough to spot a knockoff. He reported it after you were suspended."
"Told ya doze cheap models are no good."
"It seems some components inside were missing, too. Mark said they found traces of cocaine in it. A bag must have broken."
"But why did he kill Cooms?" His speech remained slow and stilted.
"Hunt told me Jamie had become greedy and wanted his protection money back. That must
have been after Jamie had videotaped the party. Invite Hunt to the party, tape him schmoozing with Jamie's clientele. Maybe even get Hunt involved in a few small sales, or have him promise a bit of protection to some big-name clients. Then blackmail him. But Hunt shot him instead."
"It's hard to believe he was that foolish."
"Money seduces, they say."
Nick wet his dry lips. "But he didn't know 'bout the videotape."
"That's true, he didn't. But Jamie would need proof Hunt was involved and the chief knew that. He also knew that Jamie would have hidden the proof and since I was the latest girlfriend, he figured I'd probably know something."
She looked at her tightly clenched fists. "I did, but I hadn't realize it until I saw his reflection in your front door. While Clive was still in jail, Hunt asked him to kill me. When Clive failed, Hunt tried to run me down using Jamie's car." She shivered.
Nick leaned forward and with a painful gasp, pulled her up closer to him. "Mills?" he whispered after a lovely embrace.
"He's still in here, down the corridor, in fact, under guard. He's not talking, but Clive said that Jamie approached him ages ago with an offer of money to look the other way when certain shipments arrived. I know Ron's finances. He's always broke. He needed cash badly."
She settled into Nick's arms, glad for the comfort he offered. "Jamie's plans go back several years, before he even bought the warehouse and rented it to Globatech. He knew he could always buy the right people and knew who they were. Mark said I was probably part of his plan, too. Or some other female Globatech employee was, rather. Dating me gave him another way to gain access to the warehouse in case Ron Mills failed. Ron knew about the cocaine, but never expected Hunt to order Clive to retrieve it and then kill him. Ron should plead guilty. It's his first offense." She looked up from the embrace. Mark had filled her in with most of the details of how Nick figured out who the real killer was. She knew Hunt realized Nick was getting close to discovering the truth. Because he didn't trust Jamie one bit, Hunt had murdered him and suspended Nick, almost stopping the investigation dead in its tracks.
But he hadn't counted on Nick's persistence. In a few weeks, he would return to his job. Maybe even return to undercover work. Either way, there was no room in his life for a woman, especially the ex-girlfriend of a drug lord, despite his admission that he loved her.
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