Linda Castillo - Cops and…Lovers?

Nick couldn't believe he'd said those killing words. Not to Erin. But the moment he'd walked into her apartment and seen her in sweatpants and T-shirt, punching that bag, all bets were off. He hadn't even bothered to pretend he was still in control. Why should he? He hadn't been in control since the day she'd walked into his office and waylaid him with that big-city cop attitude and those pretty green eyes.

Now, as he stared down at her, his temper tangled with emotions he didn't want to deal with, and physical sensations more powerful than anything he'd ever known. Even knowing she was wrong for him-knowing fully she had no intention of changing her ways-he still wanted her. Wanted her so desperately he felt the need all the way to his marrow.

"You don't have the guts to care for me," she said.

She'd tried to make the words sound cavalier, but Nick knew his admission had surprised her. Hell, he'd surprised himself. This wasn't supposed to happen. They both knew it. So why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut?

"You're not making it easy," he growled. "I ought to walk away right now and let DiCarlo have you."

Erin snorted. "Like I need you to protect me."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're the Erin McNeal. You can take on DiCarlo all by yourself. Just because most of his victims end up fitting in a coffee can after he's finished with them doesn't mean that would happen to you. Not Erin McNeal, female cop extraordinaire."

"Go to hell."

She tried to get up, but he kept her pinned. He wanted to shake her, anything to make her understand the danger she faced when it came to DiCarlo. "He wants you dead, McNeal. You shot his son. Maybe even killed him. What do you think he's going to do if he gets his hands on you?"

"He's not going to get his hands on me."

She'd spoken the words with conviction, but Nick didn't miss the shiver that rippled the length of her. He felt a swell of relief that she was finally beginning to understand the gravity of her situation.

"I'm taking you to a motel." Gritting his teeth against the ache that had taken up permanent residence in his groin, he hoisted himself off her and stood.

Propping herself on an elbow, she glared up at him. "I'll agree to go with you on one condition."

"Like you have a choice." He extended his hand, trying not to notice the way that T-shirt hugged her curves. "I'm not bargaining with you, McNeal."

"I'm not going to sit around and wait for DiCarlo to make his move."

If she hadn't been dead serious, he might have laughed. As it was, the determination in her voice put a brick of dread in the pit of his stomach. "You've got five minutes to pack a bag," he said. "If you're not ready to leave by then, I'll handcuff you and force you to come with me."

"You wouldn't dare."

"You know I will."

She reached for his hand, and he pulled her easily to her feet. "I want DiCarlo," she said.

"Evidently, the feelings are mutual."

"This is the perfect opportunity-"

"Pack, McNeal."

"Dammit, Nick, I owe it to Danny."

"Loyalty is an admirable trait, but it won't do you any good if you're dead." He looked at his watch. "You have four and a half minutes to pack a bag."

"If DiCarlo is so intent on finding me, why hasn't he made a move until now? It's been six months since the shooting."

"Frank said he's been in Sicily. As far as he knows, he was there burying his son."

"If, indeed, DiCarlo is behind this, his attempts to get at me were halfhearted at best. That's not his style."

"Maybe he wants you alive. He's not above a personal visit when it comes to revenge, especially when he gets to be the grim reaper."

Muttering an unladylike oath, Erin turned away and stalked to the opposite side of the room. Nick watched, steeling himself against the fierce need to protect her, and another need that demanded distance and objectivity.

"All right," she snapped. "I'll go with you. But only until we can come up with a plan. I'm not going to sit it out."

He considered telling her she could discuss that with the two U.S. Marshals who would be meeting her in a few hours to take her to a safe house, but decided she'd be easier to handle if she didn't know she was about to be pulled from the race.

"Okay, McNeal. You've made your point. Pack. You've got two minutes left."

As Nick watched her stalk toward her bedroom, he realized all he had to do now was figure out a way to keep his hands off her for the next few hours.

Nick knew taking Erin to the Pioneer Motel wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. But mistakes seemed to be his specialty when it came to her. Considering the electric attraction that arced between them every time they were within earshot of each other, he was probably setting himself up for a night of frustration at best. But what else could he do? Walk away when it was now clear that someone was trying to hurt her? Nick had never been good at walking away-even when it was the smart thing to do. For the life of him he couldn't think of a safer place for her. He couldn't let her stay at her apartment. He couldn't take her to his house. So he'd opted for the Pioneer Motel-and a long, long night.

Located off the highway on the outskirts of town, the motel offered obscurity and the kind of anonymity that would buy them safety until the U.S. Marshals arrived. All he had to do was get through the next few hours without touching her. That shouldn't have been a problem, considering she was frothing at the mouth to get at DiCarlo.

"Nice place," she grumbled, tossing her overnight bag onto one of the double beds.

He locked the door behind them and flipped the dead bolt into place. "Welcome to Logan Falls 's version of a five-star hotel."

Without looking at her, he inched a curtain aside and peered into the parking lot. Dusk had settled, but the sodium vapor lights hadn't yet come on. The parking lot was empty, except for a rumbling semi rig and an old station wagon. He should have been relieved there wasn't a Lincoln Continental with Illinois plates idling within plain sight. But he had been a cop long enough to know DiCarlo wouldn't be subtle when he decided to make his move.

Nick's unease had grown steadily stronger since he'd spoken to Frank just over an hour ago. Every time Nick thought of DiCarlo, and the man's reputation for violence, the hairs at his nape prickled. Every time he thought of DiCarlo getting his hands on Erin, that same uneasiness burgeoned into a cold fear that sat in his gut like a chunk of ice.

She was one of the most maddening, persistent people he'd ever met. How was it that the same woman who'd brought so much light and happiness into his daughter's life had brought so much tumult to his? She was impulsive. Headstrong. Courageous. Fallible. And more vulnerable than she would ever admit. How could he let himself care for a woman who planned to single-handedly bring down Chicago 's most ruthless mafioso?

But, Lord, he didn't think he could stay away from her much longer. She appealed to him on a level that made him feel a little crazy-and in way over his head. Since the day she'd walked into his office and given him that cool once-over with those feline green eyes, Nick had been tied up in little knots. How was he supposed to deal with her when every time he looked at her all he could think of was how right it felt when he held her in his arms?

"Look at this."

Turning away from the window, he glanced at her and felt his mouth go dry. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop opened in front of her. She'd changed into faded jeans and an old T-shirt before leaving her apartment, and the clothes clung to her in all the wrong places. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail, revealing her slender neck and delicate jawline. He had the insane urge to go to her and run his tongue along her throat just to see if she tasted as good as she looked.