Then he’d seen her face, and he’d known it might not matter what he wanted. She’d gotten an up close and personal look at what it was like to be with a guy like him—and, too late, he remembered that she’d already been in this situation once before, and with the worst possible outcome.
“You’re mad at me,” she said softly from the faraway-seeming passenger’s side of the SUV. “And you’re right. I shouldn’t have left the lab. I could’ve put even more people in danger doing that.”
“Including yourself,” he pointed out, but then shook his head. “I’m not mad at you, Jenn.”
“Then what?” When he hesitated, she pressed, “Honesty, remember? No more games.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Okay, yeah, I’m mad…but not at you. I’m mad at myself.” Which was the truth, though not all of it. “I never should’ve just yanked open the door of the storage unit. We knew there was a chance the Investor had been there. I should’ve damn well guessed he might wire it to blow.”
“He hasn’t used explosives before,” she pointed out. “And you didn’t know there was another unit on the other side.” The preliminary report suggested that was where the explosives had been stored.
“Still. I should’ve been more careful.”
“Well, if you’re going to take the blame for that, I should blame myself for not having realized right away there were two receipts. If you’d known about number thirteen, you might’ve found the explosives before anybody got hurt.” She swallowed hard.
“There’s a big difference between you not being able to get through to us on the phone, and my underestimating the Investor and his men like that.”
She shook her head. “You’re not a mind reader, Nick. Don’t beat yourself up over something that seems obvious in twenty-twenty hindsight.”
“I wouldn’t be if it was only me. But Trumble’s hurt because of me, and it could’ve been far worse.”
“It wasn’t. And you heard the doctor. He’s going to be okay.”
Something twisted inside Nick’s chest and, without really meaning to, he reached across and took the hand she’d fisted in her lap. Opening her fingers from their tense grip, he threaded his own between them. “Why are you trying to make me feel better? I saw your face back there in the waiting room, and I have a pretty good idea of what you were going through. Which means that right now you should be telling me to get lost, that you don’t want to lose someone else you care about.”
She made a muffled sound of protest but didn’t pull her hand away.
“That scene back there, it’s who I am, how I live.” It tore a chunk out of him, but he said it, anyway, voice going rough. “I’m not the kind of guy you want to wait around for, Jenn. I can’t be that guy.”
They had reached her apartment and sat outside in the driveway, in full view of the two squad cars that were now parked at both ends of the block as a visible deterrent, backing up the hidden surveillance teams. The cruisers underscored the danger, but he left the motor running an extra moment, knowing they needed the time…and maybe hoping she would tell him to get lost, giving him an excuse to shuffle her off to the mountain safe house, where she’d be far safer than she would be here, even with him in her bed.
Hell, even with him on her couch, though he hated the thought. It might be better if they backed off, though. This was getting complicated.
“You’re not Terry,” she said, quietly but firmly. “I refuse to treat you like you’re the same as him.”
“There are more similarities than differences.”
“Not to me. Not in the ways that matter.” She turned to face him, expression suddenly intent. “He wouldn’t have been more worried about the other cops than himself, at least not unless somebody was watching, and he wouldn’t have been beating himself up over making the wrong call opening up that storage unit. Terry never made mistakes, it was always somebody else’s fault. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have been trying to talk me out of being with him because I might get hurt.”
“Well, I am.”
“Too late.” She surprised him by leaning across the console to kiss him, tightening her fingers on his as their lips touched, lingered and then softened to a kiss that sent his senses racing, his heartbeat rocketing.
It was too late for him to pull away, had probably been too late for days now, maybe even longer. He was locked in tune with her, and didn’t give a crap that the uniforms across the street were probably getting a kick out of the show. He didn’t care who knew that they were together—hell, he wanted the others to know, wanted them to keep their hands off his woman.
Only she wasn’t his woman.
“I am tonight,” she said softly, making him think he’d said it aloud, or maybe that she was reading his mind.
In some dim corner of his brain, he knew he was in just as much danger as she was right now, not from the Investor, but from the explosive heat they created together. He couldn’t make himself care, though, couldn’t make himself pull away. Instead, he leaned into the kiss and framed her face in his hands. She curled into him, stroking her hands along his arms and back, chasing away the aches wherever she touched, yet kindling another, deeper ache inside him.
He eased the kiss without breaking their embrace, and pressed his forehead to hers, feeling the two of them breathing in sync. “Ask me to come inside with you,” he said, voice rough with the passion he wasn’t doing a very good job of suppressing. “Ask me to come upstairs to your bed and make love to you.”
She smiled against his lips. “Come inside,” she said, then kissed him softly. “Come upstairs. Make love to me…and that’s not an invitation, Detective. It’s an order.”
* * *
LATER, JENN LAY ON HER SIDE with her head propped on one hand, watching her lover sleep.
Her lover. He was certainly that, and more. She could admit that to herself, if not to him. She cared for him more than she’d meant to, certainly more than anybody she’d been with since Terry. It didn’t matter that he would be moving on soon, or that he lived a dangerous life. It only mattered that he was here with her and that he had loved her so well just now.
She needed this. She needed him.
And if she kept telling herself she would be okay when he moved on, eventually it would be the truth…especially if she stepped up and took control of things.
Even sleeping, he looked fierce and capable, and kept one hand on her as if reassuring himself that she was still there. She couldn’t keep hiding behind him, though. It was time for her to step up and do what needed to be done, what she probably should have done days ago. Weeks.
Nick would hate it, but she couldn’t let that affect her decision. At the same time, she couldn’t let him or any of the others keep putting their lives on the line. And she couldn’t keep being the weak link in the team, the one who pretended to be capable and self-sufficient but got woozy at crime scenes and needed to be dragged away from bombings. The one who didn’t see what was right in front of her and who couldn’t remember the things she’d seen.
She needed to do this, not just for her teammates, but for herself.
Refusing to second-guess her decision, she slipped out of the bed, pulled on her robe, dug her cell out of the haphazard pile of clothes on the floor and headed out into the hallway to make the call.
“McDermott here,” his voice came on moments later, gruff but alert.
“Tucker, it’s Jenn. I’m sorry to call so late, but I’ve made a decision.” She paused, knowing this was the right thing to do, yet still terrified. “I think it’s time to bait the trap,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I want you to leak it to the media that I’ve remembered what the Investor looks like, and that we expect to have a sketch by morning. Maybe a press conference. Whatever you think will worry the Investor the most.”
“You’re sure about this.” It wasn’t a question.
“I want to end this, once and for all, before anyone else gets hurt.”
There was a lon
g silence, so long that for a moment she thought he was going to turn her down. But then his sigh echoed along the line, and he said, “Okay, I’ll make the calls and get back to you. In the meantime, I’ll put out the word to the units guarding your place, and add a few more patrols to the neighborhood.” He paused. “Have you talked to Nick about this?”
Her spine straightened even as an uneasy churn settled in her belly. “It’s my decision.”
“Still, you need to tell him.”
“I know. I will.” But as she ended the call and sat there for a moment, staring into space and hoping she hadn’t just made a huge mistake, she knew she wasn’t going to go back into the bedroom and wake him up with the news.
She would find the right moment. Later. Tomorrow.
Somehow.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Nick awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon. That, and the sizzle of pancakes being flipped, let him know that Jenn was cooking up one of her fabulous breakfasts—she didn’t cook often, she had warned him early on, but he had quickly learned that when she did, it was well worth the wait.
His stomach growled because they had skipped dinner the night before, and as he sat up in bed, a few sore spots chimed in, reminding him that yesterday hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing. But a check of his phone showed that there weren’t any priority-flagged messages and, aside from a few bruises and a couple of pulled muscles, he was feeling good. Damn good, in fact.
He stretched, feeling the slip-slide of her sheets and the give of her soft mattress, along with the whole-body well-being that came from being with her. Especially after yesterday, when he’d thought she’d be done with him in the aftermath of the bombing.
She hadn’t dumped him. Instead, she’d accepted him, made love to him. And that was a damned miracle. As for things ending, well, they would deal with that when the time came. There was a small, unfamiliar part of him, though, that wondered whether the end might not be as inevitable as he’d been thinking. She had handled yesterday’s events like a true professional and, more, she had comforted him, understood him.
He’d never had that kind of connection with Stacia, hadn’t ever believed she could really handle the truth of his day-to-day life.
Granted, Jenn shouldn’t have to go through that, especially not after what she’d been through in her marriage. But maybe that was the difference here—she’d been through it, and knew she could survive it. And, more, she knew that a real connection wasn’t something they could ignore.
“Listen to yourself,” he said, surprised his head had even gone there. “Getting ahead of things, aren’t you? We’ve got a killer to catch first.” Hopefully the bastard had slipped up with the bombing, and the techs would have something for them to go on.
Idly thinking he should put in a call to Tucker and get the latest updates, he went for the remote instead, and clicked on the small bedroom TV, knowing Jenn liked to catch the morning news over breakfast, especially when they were sharing it in bed.
It had been a long time since he’d known things like that about a woman, a long time since he’d wanted to know them.
The picture came on first, and he found himself looking at a perky blond news anchor. Behind her, an empty outline of a man’s head had a big question mark in place of a face. Below her, the headline read “Key members of the Death Stare task force believe they’ll soon have a sketch of the mastermind.”
His blood iced. “She didn’t.”
Then the volume cut in, and the perky blonde reported, “Sources say that a key witness has come forward and is scheduled to meet with a sketch artist this morning. Police Chief Mendoza has called a midmorning press conference, and there’s speculation that the sketch will be released at that time. Bear Claw News Ten will have an exclusive—”
“Jenn!” He hadn’t meant to bellow her name, but the volume just sort of came out, as did the glare he speared her with when she hurried into the room with a mug in each hand—tea for her, coffee for him—and her eyes wide.
“What…” She caught sight of the news report, which he’d muted rather than hearing the rest. He could damn well guess what was going on, and her quick face-fall confirmed it. “Nick,” she began, but then broke off guiltily. After a moment, though, her chin came up and she offered one of the mugs. “I think you’re going to want your coffee for this.”
His heart thudded sickly in his chest, powered by a complicated mix of anger, betrayal and an inner “oh, hell no.” He took the coffee and drank deep, feeling it scald on the way down. It gave his voice an excuse to be rough when he said, “Tell me you didn’t pull the trigger on this without talking to me.”
She avoided his eyes, cradling her tea mug in both hands as if for warmth, though she was wearing fleece pants and a long-sleeved shirt that clung to her curves. “I was going to tell you about it over breakfast.”
“A bribe?”
“Just breakfast.” She took a deep breath and looked at him, eyes determinedly calm. “I’m sorry you found out this way, Nick. Maybe I should have woken you up and talked to you about it first…but the thing is, I knew you would try to convince me not to do it.”
“Damn right,” he growled. “Just like I’d try to talk any jumper off the ledge.”
Her look became a glare. “This isn’t suicide.”
“It’s sure as hell not safe.”
“Since when do you play it safe?”
Nick muttered a vicious curse at the parallel. “This is about what happened yesterday, isn’t it? Payback, Jenn? I scared you so now you’re going to scare me, make me prove how much I care about you?” He rose and crossed the room, stark naked, to stand very close to her. He touched her cheek, caught a lock of her hair between his fingers. “You don’t need to scare me for that. I care, Jenn. More than I want to admit.”
Her eyes clouded, but with more anger than sentiment. “I’m not trying to manipulate you into saying anything, Nick, or feeling more than you want to. This isn’t about us. It’s about the case.”
“Bull.” He leaned in, getting in her space to growl, “You wouldn’t be doing this if that bomb hadn’t gone off.”
“You’re right, but not the way you mean.” She eased back, took a deep breath and said, “It wasn’t you getting hurt, or not entirely. It was seeing Trumble’s wife and remembering what it felt like to be in her shoes. And it was knowing that the same thing is going to happen, over and over again, if the Investor leaves Bear Claw and sets up somewhere else. Cops. Civilians. They’re going to die if we don’t take him down, here and now.”
And the damn thing was, she was right about that. But she was wrong that she had to be the one to take him down. “You’re not trained for this, Jenn.”
“No, but I’m the one who saw him.”
“Not that you can remember.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
Frustration surged through him. He wanted to grab her and shake her until she regained her senses, wanted to bundle her up and lock her in the safe house until this was all over. He settled with clamping a hand on the back of her neck. “You’re not doing it.”
Her eyes fired up at him. “You don’t get to decide that. What’s more, it’s already done.” But instead of getting really mad, which he’d halfway hoped for—anger was easier to counter than logic—she dialed it back. “I need to do this, Nick. Not just for the case or the city I want to call my home, but for me.”
“No, you damn well don’t.”
“I’ve had to accept that I might not have knowingly let Terry do what he did, but I didn’t stop him. And because of what happened, dozens of cases wound up overturned, criminals were released and undoubtedly dozens more crimes happened that shouldn’t have.”
He tightened his grip on her nape. “You didn’t do any of that.”
“But I didn’t stop it.” She lifted a hand to bracket his wrist and hold on, with her fingers over his pulse. “I don’t expect you to understand it—I’m not sure I understand it my
self, really—but I need to do this. What’s more, Tucker agreed with me that it’s time. We’re running out of options here, and we need to take the Investor down before it’s too late.”
“Not with you,” he grated, but he could feel his grip slipping, not on her, but on the debate. Leaning in, he brushed his lips across hers and felt the ache in his chest swell to a painful pressure. “Please, Jenn. Don’t do this. Call it off. For me.”
She arched up into the kiss, and the heat they made together was a vivid reminder of last night, when their pleasure had been further sharpened by relief, and the knowledge that he could have been the one spending the night in Critical Care. But when she eased away, her eyes were very serious on his. “You don’t get to ask me that. Not if we’re just a casual thing.”
He froze. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
The pressure turned sharp and vivid in his chest, making the breath rasp in his lungs. “Jenny, please. Talk to me.” He didn’t know why he was pushing when everything inside him said to pull back, retreat, walk away.
He couldn’t walk away from her, though. He’d already tried.
She lifted dry eyes to his, squaring her shoulders as if bracing to take a punch—in this case an emotional one. But her voice was steady. “Okay, you want the ultimatum? Here it is—I’ll call Tucker, tell him it’s off and agree to lock myself away in whatever safe house you decide…if you promise me that after this case is over, you’ll quit the DEA, move here to Bear Claw and give this thing between us a chance.”
“You…” His breath hissed out as the blood chilled in his veins. It wasn’t a surprise, really, or at least it shouldn’t have been. He had seen her face in the waiting room, had felt the difference in her last night. But where he had thought the aching intensity had come from relief, now he realized that on some level, maybe even without realizing it herself, she had been saying goodbye. Quietly, he said, “Please don’t do this.”
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