Linda Castillo - Cops and…Lovers?

He could handle his urges. Given some time, he'd find a nice woman he could care for, and eventually bring her home to Stephanie. A woman who knew how to cook and didn't spend her time wrestling suspects and playing with guns. Nick could keep his distance from Erin, he told himself. He possessed the control. He certainly possessed the will.

In his dreams, maybe.

He stood on the front porch and stared at the driveway where her cruiser had disappeared just ten minutes earlier. Guilt tugged at him for the way he'd treated her. What had be been thinking, putting his hands on her like that? That wasn't his style. She hadn't deserved to be humiliated. She hadn't deserved to be pawed at like some kind of sex object. She was no more ready for that kind of relationship than he was. What in the world had prompted him to act so out of character?

Lust, he figured. The hell of it was he hadn't cared at the time. He'd wanted her, had used his own anger as an excuse to cross an indelible line. He'd been so out of control, he hadn't been able to walk back to the house for a while, not without Mrs. Thornsberry noticing the state Erin had left him in.

Nick had too much respect for Erin, and women in general, to treat her with such blatant disregard. In the back of his mind, he'd known what he was trying to accomplish. He'd intended to drive her away permanently with his crude advances. Only his plan had blown up in his face the moment he'd felt the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingertips. When she'd looked at him with those bottomless green eyes, his plan had collapsed beneath the weight of his own desperate need to touch her. He'd ended up losing control and forgetting everything the moment he'd taken that first, sweet taste of her mouth.

"Nick?"

He turned, arching a brow at Mrs. Thornsberry's tone. "What is it, Em?"

The nanny pushed open the screen door and shoved his cell phone at him. "It's Hector. Erin 's been in an accident."

A plume of dust clouded the air as Nick raced the Suburban down the driveway. He reached for the radio mike. "Hector, did she give her location?"

" County Line Road is all I heard, Chief. Called in a code one, then an eight. It sounded urgent. Said there was a shotgun-"

Nick cursed at the last word, vaguely aware that he'd flipped on the emergency lights and floored the accelerator. "Where on County Line Road?"

"Logan Creek bridge. You want me to meet you out there?"

The mention of the Logan Creek bridge gave Nick pause, but only for a moment. "Get an ambulance-"

"Parke County Rescue is en route."

"I'll see you in a few minutes." Nick racked the mike. An odd sense of déjà vu engulfed him as he turned onto County Line Road. It had been nearly three years since his wife's accident, but he remembered every agonizing detail with a clarity that made his heart race. Shaken by the force of the emotions surging through him, he gripped the steering wheel and willed his pulse to slow. He wouldn't think of Rita now. He wouldn't think of that terrible day. Or the black months that followed.

He wasn't involved with Erin McNeal, didn't care about her. If she'd gotten herself hurt-or worse-he wouldn't feel it all the way to his soul, the way he had when Rita had died. McNeal was his deputy, nothing more. A troubled cop who'd needed a chance to get back on her feet after a tragic shooting. He'd lent a hand. He liked the way she looked, and had behaved badly. But that was where it ended. He refused to analyze his feelings for her any more deeply than that.

He wouldn't tempt fate by caring for a woman who didn't hesitate to put herself on the line. Nor would he risk his daughter's young heart. No matter how attracted he was to Erin, he wouldn't get involved with her. He wouldn't let her hurt him. He wouldn't let her touch him emotionally. He was immune, dammit. Had been since the night Rita had quietly died in his arms. Never again would he lay his heart out on the chopping block so that fate could slash it at will.

His heart thrummed like a jackhammer when he spotted skid marks near the bridge. Fear gripped him with clawlike fingers as he brought the Suburban to a screeching halt. Throwing open the door, he hit the ground running.

"McNeal!"

The car wasn't anywhere in sight, but the pungent smell of burning rubber filled the air. He stopped at the bridge, dizzy with fear, sick with remembrance. His gaze followed the skid marks to the edge of the asphalt, where they tore into the shoulder. The car had barely missed the steel girders, cutting a path through the weeds, then plummeting down the embankment.

He stumbled to the edge of the road. His heart rolled when he spotted the overturned cruiser a few feet from the muddy creek bank. A second later he was moving, scrambling down the steep incline. " Erin!" He heard her name as if the voice had come from someone else.

His pulse raged as he sprinted toward the vehicle. "McNeal! Answer me, dammit!"

Dropping to his knees outside the driver's side door, Nick leaned forward, peered inside, and his heart simply stopped. Em's lifeless form hung suspended, held in place by her safety belt. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes open and staring. Nick's first thought was that she was dead.

"McNeal!" Panic knifed through him. Without thinking, he reached for her. Her flesh was cold to the touch. She didn't stir. " Erin! Honey, can you hear me?"

Her answer came in the form of an elongated groan. She blinked at Nick. "Oh, Nick. I think I screwed up."

The sound of her voice nearly undid him. His emotions rose dangerously to the surface. Relief. Thankfulness. A hundred others he didn't want to name. For a moment he couldn't speak, could do nothing but sit back and thank God she was alive.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" he managed to ask after a moment.

She shifted, her brows knitting. "That's a really dumb question at this point, Chief."

He stared at her, choking back emotions that were trying to strangle him. He was losing it, and she was cracking jokes. "Where do you hurt?" he croaked. "Your neck? Your back?"

"Everywhere except the soles of my feet."

A tension-breaking laugh squeezed from his throat. "You scared the dickens out of me."

Closing her eyes, she smiled faintly. "Me, too."

"I smell gas. Honey, I've got to get you out of the car. Can you move?"

Both of her hands opened and closed. "Yeah."

"What about your legs?"

Her face screwed up with the effort, but Nick saw her ankles flex. "I can move. Let's do it. I don't want to take a chance on becoming a s'more."

Praying he wouldn't cause additional damage in the event that she had a spinal or neck injury, Nick crawled halfway through the window, then reached up to release her safety belt. "I'm going to unsnap your belt. Just relax and fall against me, okay?"

She nodded.

Holding her in place with one arm, he released the belt and felt her sag against him. "Feel okay?"

"Doesn't even hurt."

Nick closed his eyes as another wave of emotion pushed through him. "I'm going to set you down and pull you out of the car. Don't move. Just let me take care of you, okay?"

He should have known she wouldn't obey. By the time he'd backed out of the overturned car, Erin was crawling on all fours. "Nick-"

"I told you to lie still," he growled.

"There was another vehicle. A Lincoln. There was a gun-"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Whoever it was, they're gone." Rising, he looked over his shoulder and thumbed off the strap of his holster. "I'll ask you about the car in a moment, okay? Right now I want you to lie down. I've got a cervical collar and blanket in my truck-"

When she started to stand, he merely swept her into his arms. "When are you going to learn to follow orders?"

"Maybe my next life." She looked toward the road. "The other car. Are you sure it's gone?"