Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right that seeing Trumble’s wife yesterday reminded me too much what it was like, how bad it could be.” Eyes filling, she whispered, “I can’t do that, Nick. I won’t.”
I’m not asking you to. He didn’t say it, though, because damn it, he wanted to ask her to do exactly that. Maybe even part of him had been planning on it. “We’re good together,” he said urgently. “I want to try and make this work.” There. He’d admitted it. The raw reality of it dug into his gut, making him want to drag her into his arms and carry her away from the danger. “We can fly to Miami today. Or, better yet, New York. I’ll introduce you to my family, show you the theater. We can stay as long as you want.” He’d be leaving Tucker behind to solve the case, maybe with a stand-in pretending to be Jenn.
It was just another case, after all, he told himself when guilt tugged at him. But she was far from being just another woman.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t do this anymore.”
A cold pit opened in his stomach, one that said she was slipping away from him. “You’re breaking up with me.”
“I’m turning you loose to live the life you’ve chosen.”
“Because I don’t want you to use yourself as bait, or because you’ve remembered what it means to be involved with a frontline cop?”
“Neither. Both.” She swiped at her cheek, where a tear had broken free.
The sight cut into him. “Jenny, please. Let’s talk about this. We can work something out.” He’d never offered that to anyone else, hadn’t thought he would want it for himself.
“I don’t think so, Nick.” She glanced back over her shoulder to the door. “I need to go.”
“Running away?” he asked, hating that it had come to this. Hating that he couldn’t have what he wanted
“No. I’m burning breakfast.”
It wasn’t until she turned and hurried away that he noticed the smell and heard the angry sizzle from the kitchen, the one that warned he wasn’t getting any of her special pancakes or bacon today. And apparently never again.
This was it, he knew. This was the end they’d been heading toward for days now, weeks, the impasse that they couldn’t breach. He couldn’t give up the life he’d built for himself, but he couldn’t ask her to share it…not when there was so little to share.
“Perfect,” he muttered as he gathered up his clothes and started yanking on his jeans. “This is just freaking perfect.” But as he got to his holster and strapped it on with grim intent, he knew that he wasn’t going to turn his back on her, no matter what. He was going to watch over her, protect her, and when the Investor came for her, he was going to make damn sure that the bastard went down without hurting a hair on Jenn’s head. And after that…
After that, nothing, he knew. He would leave, and both of their lives would get back to normal…except for the gaping hole where his heart used to be.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the next hour, Jenn couldn’t decide which was worse, unexpectedly ending things with Nick, or doing it then not being able to get away from him. He was still in the apartment with her, filling her senses and making her want to be weak when she couldn’t afford any sign of weakness. Not to him, not to anyone.
She had to be strong right now. Stronger than she’d ever been before.
So far, so good. She’d made it through their discussion without breaking down, though it had been a close call, and then ditched their ruined breakfast, trying not to think how optimistic she’d been while making it or how he’d loved her last night. She’d been fooling herself about him changing. Telling herself fairy tales to make the day ahead seem less scary, while deep down inside she had known they were going to argue, and that it would probably mean the end of their no-strings fling.
After yesterday, she had realized she needed strings. And that couldn’t happen with him in Florida, working undercover.
Not that she had thought he would quit for her, not really. Not even to keep her from putting herself out there as a target.
Now, the day ahead wasn’t just scary—it loomed empty and hollow without his affection in it. But she could deal with that, just like she had to edge around his big, brooding presence in her suddenly claustrophobic apartment while they got ready. Which included him packing his things without discussion, wordlessly acknowledging that someone else would be coming home with her tonight for guard duty.
The sight of his bags by the door sent a sharp stab through her chest. The emptiness in the bathroom made her hiss out a breath. Seeing the bed, which he’d straightened up some, as if erasing the signs that they’d been together, had her biting back tears. Determination kept her going through the motions, but it wasn’t easy.
She knew that wouldn’t be the last of it, either. The grief—and the disbelief—had just begun. Been there, done that, had the pity party. And even though she thought it might be a little easier this time because she’d been the one to call it quits, and for legitimate reasons—basic incompatibility trumped great sex, unfortunately—she knew damn well it was going to hurt for far longer than she wanted it to.
Better that than settling for a few more days or weeks of what he was willing to give her, though, knowing she was hanging on to something that wasn’t ever going to be what she wanted it to be and, worse, that had the potential to land her back in that waiting room at any moment, waiting to see whether the news would be good or bad.
No, it was better this way.
And if she kept telling herself that, eventually it might ring true.
“You ready to get out of here?” Nick asked from near the front door. He had his phone in his hand, having just checked in with Tucker and the surveillance teams, and gotten the all clear. His borrowed parka hung open to reveal his holstered pistol and badge, as if to remind her of the danger, and the reason he was really there.
She swallowed past the hard lump of emotion clogging her throat, and croaked, “Ready.”
That was a lie—she wasn’t ready for them to be over, wasn’t ready to open herself up to the Investor’s attack. But it didn’t matter whether she was ready or not, did it? It was time for her to stop pretending to be brave and actually be brave.
The drive to the P.D. passed in silence, with no sign of any tail or danger, making her suddenly question the plan. “What if he’s already left the city?” she asked as Nick threaded the SUV through the west side of the city, headed for police headquarters.
“Then you should call this off,” he said coolly.
“Is that your professional opinion?”
He hesitated, then cursed under his breath. “No. Professionally, I think you should stick to the plan. If he’s still in the area and fixated on you, he’ll make his move. If he’s already on the run, by the time he hears about the sketch, the press conference will have already been called off, and he’ll know you really don’t remember anything.” He slid her a look. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“That hasn’t changed.” Sure, she had fuzzy impressions, maybe a flash or two here and there, but she couldn’t tell at this point if they were real memories or made up to fill the gaps.
He nodded. “Then professionally I think you’re doing the right thing. Personally, I want to drive you straight up to that hideaway in the mountains and lock you in there until this is all over.” He paused. “It’ll kill me if you get hurt, Jenn. Flat-out kill me.”
“Nick…” She trailed off, looking out the window and blinking too hard.
Sighing heavily, he shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Me, too.” She was sorry for all of it—sorry that they had tried again when nothing had really changed, sorry it had worked so well on the surface when the foundation was so flawed, sorry yesterday’s reality check had scared her off when she’d thought she was okay with things and very sorry he had found out about her decision from the morning news. Most of all, though, she was sorry that they hadn’t made it to their planned goodbye, a kiss at the a
irport and a wave as he left.
Then again, that probably would’ve hurt just as badly as this. Because he still would’ve been walking away from what they’d found together.
Maybe a few months from now she would look back and be grateful for the time they’d had together, which had woken up parts of her that had been numb since Terry’s death. Right now, though, there wasn’t much in the way of gratitude. It just hurt like hell.
“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily as he pulled into the parking lot of the P.D. with one of the surveillance teams right behind them.
“Thanks for the ride.” She didn’t quite choke on the polite words, but she was out of the vehicle almost before he had it parked, beelining for the back door of the P.D., wanting to be inside its familiar, safe walls before anything else went wrong today.
And that was a hell of a thought, considering that they were only a couple of hours away from a press conference where she’d be making herself a big, fat target.
“Jenn. Wait up.” Nick caught her arm just inside the door and urged her down a nearby hallway. “Damn it. We need to talk about this.”
She dug in her heels and tugged away. “We have talked, Nick, maybe too much. I think it’s time to admit that we can’t talk our way out of the situation we’re in.” She paused, softening a little at the dark unhappiness in his eyes. “It’s not a crime to want different things out of life.”
He cursed under his breath. “I don’t—”
“Good. You’re both here.” Tucker came through from the main lobby with a phone up to his ear and a harried look on his face. “Task force meeting in fifteen, planning for the press conference. Twenty minutes after that, we’re transporting Jenn off-site to meet with Alyssa and put the fake sketch together. Normally we’d do that sort of thing here, but we want to give the bastard a chance to…” He trailed off, no doubt getting a look at their faces or catching the tense vibe in the air. Probably both. “Um, sorry. Bad timing, I take it?”
Flushing, Jenn shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re done here.” In more ways than one. “Task force meeting in fifteen, you said?” At Tucker’s wary nod, she let out a breath. “Okay. I’m going to go down to the lab for a few minutes, then. Drop off my coat, take a breath, that sort of thing.”
She didn’t wait for Tucker’s okay, just headed for the stairs. Part of her was waiting for Nick to call her back. Her feet faltered on the stairs when he didn’t, but then she picked herself up and kept going, telling herself it was for the best. This was her job, her career. And today she was going to have the opportunity to impress the hell out of her bosses, and probably secure her position here in Bear Claw.
If she couldn’t have everything she wanted, she could at least have this.
The lab was empty, which was a relief in a way. She loved Gigi and the others, but she didn’t want to talk right now—not about the plan, and not about Nick. She just wanted a minute alone.
After dropping off her coat and purse in the break room, she sat at her desk and stared blankly at the darkened screen. Today wasn’t about the evidence, really. It was about baiting a trap…and once again finding a way to coexist with an ex-lover she was far from over.
For the first time since Nick had come back into her life for real, she was looking forward to the end of the case, not just because it would mean her job review and—hopefully—a new and exciting era for Bear Claw City and its police department…but mostly because it would mean Nick’s time there would be over, and he would leave.
She had learned to move on once before; she could do it again.
“Damn it,” she muttered, knowing there was no way she was going to get anything accomplished down in the lab today. And nobody could blame her, really. She should be upstairs going over plans and backup plans with the members of the task force.
There was a good chance the Investor would be brought to justice in the next few hours.
Maybe. Possibly. She hoped.
“Jenn?” a man’s voice called from the main stairs. “Sorry to bother you, but Tucker wants you upstairs. They’re about ready to start the meeting.”
She couldn’t place the voice, but saw the uniform pants and heavy boots of an officer. She didn’t know all the cops by sight yet, though that was rapidly changing, thanks to the surveillance teams.
“I’ll be right up,” she replied, feeling suddenly very tired, not just in her body, but in her soul. She hated to admit it, but she really, really didn’t want to go upstairs.
Trying not to remember those first few task force meetings after she and Nick had broken up before, and how it had felt as if everyone was looking at her even when they weren’t, she hauled herself up from her desk chair, grabbed her cell for taking notes and headed for the stairs.
The officer was waiting for her, making her think that either Tucker had said to make sure she hustled, or else the Bear Claw cops were itchy to get the charade started. Maybe both.
And how weird was it that she was the one about to go undercover? She’d never thought she’d have the guts. She did, though, not only to offer herself as bait, but also to stand up for herself when it came to Nick and what she wanted from him.
When that made her feel a little more in control, she took a deep breath and headed up the stairs. “Thanks for the heads-up,” she said to her escort.
“No problem.” He fell into step beside her, urging her down the narrow corridor that led past the interrogation rooms and circled back to the conference room, rather than straight across the main lobby. “This way. It’s quieter.”
A shiver touched the back of her neck, though she couldn’t have said why. Maybe it was because the officer was a little older than the others who’d been keeping an eye on her, with a distinguished air and a bit of gray at his temples. Or maybe it was knowing that she was on the verge of leaving the safety of the P.D., hoping to draw out the killer.
“You ready to do the sketch?” her escort asked as they drew abreast of Interrogation One.
“Absolutely,” she answered, sticking to the fiction she and Tucker had agreed would be best to maintain for all but a select few task force members, to limit the possibility of a leak. “In an hour or so, we’ll have the Investor’s picture all over the place. After that, it should only be a matter of time.”
“It’s strange you should say that.” He caught her arm in a viselike grip. “Considering that the man you’re supposedly going to be sketching is right next to you, and you haven’t even flinched.”
The prickles turned to panic.
He clapped a hand over her mouth and shoved her through a nearby door.
And in that instant, she remembered everything.
She saw a man—this man—coming through the apartment door, into her crime scene, and remembered realizing too late that he wasn’t one of the cops. She had lurched to her feet, tried to fend him off, but he’d overpowered her, battering her to the ground with terrifying ease. She remembered lying there, half-conscious and watching through slitted lids as he grabbed the evidence cases and started scouring the apartment for whatever evidence he’d been afraid of having left behind.
He was just coming back toward her, his eyes flat and deadly, when there was a noise in the hallway, one that sent him bolting out the fire escape in an instant, just as Nick burst in and she slipped fully unconscious, not realizing how close she’d come to death and how fortunate she was to be alive.
She’d gotten very lucky that time, she knew now for certain, and her heart drummed sickly at the knowledge that he had her again.
And this time Nick wouldn’t be coming to her rescue.
Terror whipped through her at the thud-click of the door locking, and she broke from her paralysis, lashing out a kick while she screamed. Or tried to—the noise was muffled behind his palm and his hard grip held her close to his body, turning her blows ineffective.
Worse, as he spun them away from the door, she saw the motionless body of a man wearing uniform pants and an unders
hirt, no doubt the guard he had overpowered and posed as. There was a dark smear of blood on the floor beneath the young officer, and she didn’t think he was breathing. More, the surveillance camera was disabled, the one-way glass covered with a taped-up tarp, warning that this was no spur-of-the-moment attack. He had a plan.
Then her eyes went beyond all that to a duffel in the corner, unzipped to show the unmistakable outline of a digital display and the wires and matte surface of fully armed C-4.
Oh, God. She couldn’t think, couldn’t react, couldn’t deal.
There was a bomb. In the Bear Claw P.D.
She made a muffled noise of horror, and the Investor followed her gaze, his eyes lighting with satisfaction. “Rather neat, don’t you think? I’ll take care of you and any evidence that could come back to bite me, all at once. And if I gut the Bear Claw police in the process, all the better.”
Bile pressed at the back of her throat and the room started to spin, as she was hit with her usual crime scene panic times a thousand. She went limp and weak, making it far too easy for her captor to gag her with a strip torn from the officer’s shirt, tie her hands and feet with two other strips of the tough polyester. Then he looped the last strip around one of the bolted-down table legs, tying it tightly enough that her hands and feet tingled.
Trapped. She was trapped. Helpless.
“Not so tough without your boyfriend, are you?” he gloated, making her think of Nick, and how he would’ve been with her if they hadn’t fought.
She was alone, and the only one who knew the enemy was only minutes away from leveling the P.D.
Terror slashed. She didn’t want to die, didn’t want her friends to die, didn’t want the lab destroyed, didn’t want any of this.
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