Bear Claw Lawman

by Jessica Andersen

  She was getting punchy, she realized belatedly. But at the same time, she figured she had an excuse, given that she’d started the day up in the mountains and in less than ten hours had been hypnotized, nearly run over and kissed to within an inch of her life. And now she was standing in the room next to Interrogation Three, staring at the guy who had tried to kill her.

  Allegedly, granted. But he’d been headed out of town in a hatchback that had matched Nick’s description, with mismatched plates that later turned out to have been stolen. And when the cops had tried to pull him over, he’d bolted, leading them on a chase that had ended thanks to a tack strip laid down by a couple of rangers at the outskirts of the state park. The most preliminary of examinations on-scene had shown that the car had scrapes along one side and paint transfer that appeared to match Maya’s SUV.

  The analysts would confirm it with evidence and lab tests, but already there was no doubt in Jenn’s mind: this was the guy who had tried to kill her.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t make him any less of a stranger to her.

  She was just heaving a big sigh of disappointment when the door to the next room swung open and Nick strode into Interrogation Three.

  Heat jolted through her at the sight of him—big, strong and intense, with a fierce expression that said he wasn’t going to put up with any garbage from the suspect. His dark hair was slicked back in a stubby ponytail that made him look subtly dangerous, and he’d shed his heavy jacket to reveal the broad shoulders and muscled arms beneath his dark green sweater.

  He slapped a file folder on the table, and said, “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

  His voice had a rough growl that fired Jenn’s blood even further, reminding her of how he’d sounded right after they’d made love. But even as her heart thudded at the memory, he glanced up at the one-way glass…and looked nothing like the man who’d made love to her. Hell, he didn’t even look like the guy who had met her and Maya out in the parking lot and announced he was going to stand in as their guard.

  No, the man on the other side of the glass was cold and hard, with a faintly derisive edge to his tight-lipped smile.

  A sinking shiver took root in her belly.

  That was definitely Nick in there—it was his body, his face, his presence—but it wasn’t the man she knew. This Nick had an aggressive jut to his jaw and moved with an unfamiliar swagger. And when he flipped open the file and gave it a quick once-over, his eyes held none of the alert intelligence she was used to. Instead, he was cold and chill, with a demeanor that practically screamed, Go ahead and impress me. It won’t be easy.

  The shiver grew as she recognized his ’tude from one of the other interrogation tapes she had watched. But the video hadn’t really shown how his eyes went shark-dead, and it hadn’t caught the menacing inflection in a voice gone cold as he said, “My colleagues tell me that you’re not interested in cooperating with our investigation, Benjamin.”

  The suspect’s eyes slid away from his. “Slider.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The name’s Slider.”

  A sudden surge of nausea forced Jenn to breathe deeply a few times while the room around her threatened to spin. Benjamin. Slider. It didn’t matter what he called himself—the man on the other side of the glass had tried to murder her. He’d planned to hit her with his car, running her over, crushing her to a pulp and—

  A whimper bled from her lips. She might do her damnedest to be competent and self-sufficient in her everyday life—she had worked hard to get to that point—but she wasn’t feeling at all tough and independent right now. In fact, she badly wanted to bury her face in a warm, solid chest, close her eyes and pretend this was all some strange nightmare.

  There wasn’t anybody there to lean on, though. She had sent Matt and Gigi away, and there was no way she was going back out there and admitting she needed moral support. So she breathed through her nose and made herself watch the interrogation unfolding in the next room.

  “Well, then, Slider. Here’s the deal…” Nick flipped open the folder and read silently, then shook his head and shut it once more. “We’ve got you and we’ve got the car. There’s no question that you’re going to go down for trying to run over my analyst earlier today. Question is, how far down are you going to go? You haven’t lawyered up, which makes me think you might want to deal. So let’s deal. Who are you working for?”

  Slider just smirked a little and looked past him. “Nobody, man. My foot slipped on the gas, that’s all.”

  Nick leaned in, eyes going hard and dark. “I get that your boss is a scary dude. But what you don’t get is that I can be far scarier. And you don’t want

  to get on my bad side.”

  He said it with enough venom that the suspect looked at him sidelong. “Oh, yeah?” Slider said, going for a sneer. But there was a thread of worry in it.

  “Yeah. So let’s talk.”

  If Jenn could have taken herself out of the equation, she thought she would’ve been fascinated watching Nick’s technique.

  It wasn’t so much what he was saying as the way he was saying it, and his body language. He wasn’t the nice-guy cop she’d seen interviewing the elderly grandma, the confident teammate who came to the task force meetings, or the wild-eyed rescuer who had hauled her up onto the roof of Maya’s SUV. If anything, he was exactly the sort of guy someone like Slider would be a little afraid of.

  She shivered with a sudden chill, and wished she’d brought her bomber. There was a thermostat near the door, but she didn’t crank the heat. She stayed frozen, transfixed by the sight of a Nick she’d never seen before, at least not in person. He hadn’t just morphed into a tough, no-nonsense interrogator; he’d turned into someone very much like the man sitting opposite him.

  This wasn’t the Nick she’d kissed a few hours ago, and it sure as hell wasn’t the one she’d slept with two months ago. Yet somehow this was part of him, too.

  Did she even know him at all? Had she ever?

  Damn it, focus. But she suddenly didn’t want to focus on Nick’s interrogation, didn’t want to be there. She wanted to be down in the lab, safe and dark, with layers of cement and guarded stairways between her and danger. And if that made her a fraud for pretending to be all brave and independent when she was really a coward deep down inside, she decided she could live with that, especially after a day like today.

  Her legs barely supported her as she rose and turned for the door. But as she twisted the knob, Slider suddenly said, “You swear? You’ll protect me, keep me out of jail?” His voice was different, almost earnest.

  Surprise kicked through her, alongside hope. “Hot damn,” she said softly, turning back. “He did it.”

  The glint in Nick’s dark eyes said he knew it, too. He glanced up at the window, and it seemed for a second that their gazes met.

  That was her imagination, of course. The glass was one-way.

  Still, she moved back to the window and pressed her palm to the cool surface. “Keep going,” she urged. “You’re almost there.”

  Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he had taken on a strange and intimidating persona, didn’t even really matter that they’d complicated things between them with the kiss. All that mattered was that he was on the verge of getting something out of the man who had tried to murder her.

  “Do it,” she whispered as Nick moved in for the kill. “Break him.”

  * * *

  “MAKE IT OFFICIAL, MAN,” Slider urged Nick. The little punk was pale and sweating, not because he was detoxing or jonesing, but because he was truly scared, torn between his boss and the cops. “I want paperwork, something that says that if I tell you everything I know, you’ll keep me out of jail and protect me from him.”

  Careful, Nick warned himself. Keep it legal. He’d be damned if the Investor walked because he’d screwed up protocol and left the lawyers some wiggle room. “I told you, I can’t do that right here and now. But you have my word that I’ll do my best on both of th
ose things…assuming that what you give me is worth the trouble.”

  “Paperwork, man.” But Slider’s eyes were moving fast, going from the door to the one-way glass and back again. “I want assurances.”

  Nick didn’t let himself look over at the window again. Didn’t let himself wonder if Jenn was watching, if she’d recognized the bastard who’d tried to turn her into roadkill.

  The dull, thudding anger he’d banked to make it through the interrogation threatened to spark at the reminder, and he leaned in, looming over Slider and getting a spurt of satisfaction when he shrank down a little in his chair. “You tried to kill a member of the Bear Claw police force. Do you really think you’re going to get a better offer?”

  “I want…” Slider hesitated, and for a second Nick thought he’d lost him, that the bastard was going to lawyer up. But then he said plaintively, “I want a deal, man.”

  “Then give me something to take to my bosses. Tell me who you work for.”

  It shouldn’t have been possible for Slider to go even more sickly pale than he had been, but he managed it. “You know who I work for.” It was little more than a whisper.

  “Say his name.”

  “The Investor.”

  “Say his real name,” Nick pressed, trying not to let the thin thread of excitement show in his eyes or voice. Say it, you little creep. Give him to me.

  Could it finally be happening? Could they be getting the break they needed?

  “That’s all I know.”

  Damn it. “What does he look like?”

  “I never saw him.”

  “How did you contact him?”

  “Disposable cell.” Slider looked mutinous. “Come on, man. Paperwork.”

  Nick scowled. “You haven’t given me anything worth a fortune-cookie fortune, never mind any sort of deal. Keep trying.” He thought he saw movement behind the one-way glass, though it was probably the power of suggestion. Still, though, it helped to think she was there. In an odd way, as much as it distracted him, it also made him stay centered, stay focused.

  He’d always played best to an audience, after all.

  “Okay, how about this?” he said, realizing he was going to have to change things up. “How about you tell me what’s going to happen when he finds the stash?”

  It was part bluff, part educated guess, but the surprise that flashed in Slider’s eyes signaled a direct hit. “He’ll leave the city, go somewhere else. He said he’d take me with him.”

  “What about the others?”

  “There aren’t any others, except for the paid informants. I was the last one he had working directly for him.”

  And despite what the Investor had promised, Slider suspected he wouldn’t have survived the gig much longer, Nick surmised, both from the greasy flop sweats and the way the other man’s words were coming easier now, starting to speed up and run over each other, as if he was afraid if he didn’t keep talking, he’d wind up back out on the street, with only a matter of time before the Investor caught on that he’d been in custody. “That’s it?” he pressed. “He’s just going to leave with the rest of the drugs?”

  Slider scoffed. “The drugs aren’t half of it. Timms didn’t just steal the stash—he got the virus and the programs, too. Everything that the boss needs to start up again in another city.”

  Nick didn’t let the flush of victory show, but he mentally high-fived himself.

  One of the main ingredients of the Death Stare drug came from trees that had been infected with a special bioengineered virus. The scientist who had developed it was dead, which meant that the Investor needed either the virus itself, or the complicated computer programs that could be used to make more of it. Except now it sounded as if he’d been double-crossed, the precious samples and programs stolen.

  It fit. It played. And it explained why the bastard was still in town, why he was hunting down his former lieutenants and torturing them.

  Apparently realizing—or at least hoping—that he’d scored, Slider straightened in his chair. “That’s got to be good enough for a deal, right?”

  Nick slouched a bit. “You still haven’t told me anything I didn’t know before.” Which was a lie, and might skirt the line a little, but it would hold in court. “What else have you got? So far all you’ve told me is that the boss wants to find the stash and get out of Dodge. Yawn.”

  “Okay, how about this?” Slider’s expression went calculating. “He’s not going to leave without doing the brunette. Even if she never remembers his face, she’s a loose end.”

  Nick’s hands fisted before he could squelch the response, and he had to fight to keep his sudden fury from showing anywhere else. He didn’t let himself glance at the window, didn’t want her to see his rage. But whether he was proud of it or not, he was excited, too.

  Slider had just confirmed that Jenn had seen the Investor’s face. If she could just remember it, they could blanket the city with his image and send it to every law enforcement agency that had an acronym. Someone somewhere had to know who the bastard actually was.

  There was no guarantee that Jenn would ever remember, though, and pressuring her wasn’t going to help. So he needed to play this for all it was worth.

  “Yawn,” he said again, rolling his eyes. “I’m still not convinced. Tell me about these informants.” Unfortunately, the Bear Claw P.D. already suspected there were leaks, both in the department itself and in the mayor’s office. That was why the task force had been put together, and why its members were both trusted and tight-lipped.

  Slider was done, though. He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Paperwork,” he said. “Or I use the L word.” And he wasn’t talking about “love.”

  Knowing Tucker would kick his butt if their newest informant lawyered up now, Nick nodded. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” He shot the shackled punk an evil grin. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Slider told him to go do something anatomically impossible, and added a few curses that made up in volume for what they lacked in originality. Nick didn’t care, though; he’d gotten what he wanted.

  He kept up the bad-cop scowl as he came out of the room, then let it go as he shut the door at his back. He filled his lungs and then blew out all the air, long and slow, trying to flush as much of the old oxygen out of his system as he possibly could.

  And with it, he exhaled the guy he’d been in that room.

  He felt the meanness leave him, the chill cruelty and the desire to push and keep pushing, even if it hurt the person opposite him, even if it endangered them, because he couldn’t let anything else matter but the case. The layers of Bad Cop flowed away from him, easing the too-tight muscles of his forehead, neck and shoulders, and making it easier for him to breathe.

  He didn’t mind Bad Cop any more than he did the other roles he slipped into and out of as easily as…well, as easily as breathing. Today, though, it had been an effort, not to be bad, but to keep the anger from tipping him over into something that went from bad to worse, and could have jeopardized the case rather than help crack it.

  It was okay now, though. He had done it, and he thought they might have something to work with, and maybe even more to come after they rounded up Slider’s

  beloved paperwork. The Investor’s lackey was no saint—far from it—but he could prove very useful as an informant.

  And if Nick kept reminding himself of that, maybe he’d stop wanting to bury his fist in the bastard’s face, over and over again.

  Maybe.

  “Okay,” he said on a final exhalation. “Okay.” Feeling far more like himself, he opened his eyes. And found Jenn standing three paces away, staring at him. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard, though he probably shouldn’t have been. “Did you recognize him?”

  “No. He wasn’t the guy who attacked me in Dennison’s apartment.” But there was something going on behind her chocolate-brown eyes.

  He pushed away from the wall to face her, instincts tingling. “You saw something, though. What was
it?”

  She hesitated then said, “Who was that in there?”

  “Benjamin—”

  “Not him. You. What happened in there? You weren’t yourself…or were you?”

  “Oh.” Oh, hell. His stomach clutched as he realized he had scared her with the whole Bad Cop thing, probably made her question the guy he’d been when he was with her. He knew it would be better for both of them if she kept her distance, but he hadn’t meant to terrify her.

  It was inevitable, though, he supposed. In his experience, women—even the ones who said they understood his work, could handle it—couldn’t face the reality of the guy he became undercover. Closed, distant and not like anything they wanted to be around.

  She must have seen something in his eyes, but she didn’t back off. Instead, she touched his sleeve. “Nick, talk to me. Please. I’m trying to understand what’s going on here.”

  Knowing she was talking about more than just the interrogation, he glanced around and took a couple of steps away from her, aiming for the next door over, where the unlit bulb over the door indicated that Interrogation Two was unoccupied. “Let’s take this out of the hallway.”

  “No.” She backed up, and at the flash of hurt in her eyes, he remembered too late what had happened the last time he’d gotten her into an interrogation room. “Here and now. I want an explanation.”

  Or what? the hard, closed-off part of him wanted to demand. He didn’t owe her anything. More, it would be better—easier, at least on a personal level—if she walked away. Yes, he still wanted her, wanted her with a burning ache that rode low in his gut and pressed beneath his heart, but nothing had changed, really. That was the thing, though—he’d never really explained why he’d pushed her away. And even the hard part of him knew that had been a jerkwad move.

  She deserved better. Always had.

  Hell, he should tell her the truth. Not that he had lied, really, but he hadn’t told her everything. He hadn’t thought it was necessary, hadn’t known at the time that he would have so much damn trouble letting go.