Linda Castillo - Cops and…Lovers?

Nick jumped when his cell phone chirped, then he snatched the phone up and curtly uttered his name.

"Chief!"

The fear in his deputy's voice jolted him to red alert. "What's wrong?" he asked, wondering in a small corner of his mind why there was panic in his own voice.

"Two men… armed. They forced us off the road. Tied us up. Damn." Hector's voice broke.

Nick's nerves went taut. A dozen scenarios scrambled through his mind, none of them good. " What happened?"

"They got her, Nick."

Hector didn't need to say who for Nick to know. White-hot terror screamed through him. He didn't remember rising. He didn't remember crossing the room and stepping into his trousers. "Where's Stephanie?"

"They got her, Chief. Good Lord, they took her."

Erin woke to panic. She felt it. Sensed it. Smelled it like gunpowder from a killing blast. Pulling the sheets up to cover herself, she sat bolt upright. "Nick?"

He stood amid the darkness on the opposite side of the room. In the sparse light slanting through the window, she could see he had on his slacks, no shirt, his cell phone pressed to his ear. A slow spiral of dread bored a hole right through her.

"When?" he snapped into the phone.

Erin rolled out of bed and began gathering her clothes. Good Lord, what was going on? Why was Nick on the phone? Why had he been shouting? She looked at her watch. It was just after midnight.

Nick cursed exorbitantly.

Even from across the room, Erin could hear him breathing. She stepped into her jeans, then tugged her T-shirt over her head. "Nick, what is it? What's happened?"

"Oh, no," he said into the darkness. "Oh, no. No!"

Erin flipped on the light. "Nick?"

Lowering the phone, he turned away from her and leaned against the dresser as if he suddenly no longer had the strength to support himself.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Her heart rolled over when he raised his head. His face was chalk-white. Sweat dampened his brow. She sensed danger, felt the violence coming off him in thick, choking waves.

She stepped back when his gaze met hers. In the depths of his eyes, she saw murder. Her heart began to pound.

"Steph and Mrs. T.," he said hoarsely. "They never made it to Indianapolis."

Confusion swirled for an instant-then the meaning behind his words struck her with the force of a freight train. "Oh, God. Oh, no ." She felt gut punched. Taking another step back, she pressed her hand to her stomach. "Please tell me they're not-"

"Hector and Em are all right. The bastard has my little girl."

Erin didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "DiCarlo?"

Without warning, he punched the dresser mirror. Glass shattered, spraying outward from the impact.

"Nick!"

"Why her , for God's sake?" he snarled.

"Nick-"

"If he hurts her, I'll kill him. I'll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands."

"Stop it. Please."

"I've got to find her."

Erin saw blood on his knuckles, fought back a crushing wave of panic. "Calm down-"

"DiCarlo crossed the line," he said in a low, menacing voice.

She stared at him, wondering if he could hear the maniacal rhythm of her heart. "How did it happen?"

"A limo forced them off the road."

"We'll get her back."

"I should have realized it would come to this." His expression turned stricken and pale and as dangerous as a viper about to strike. "I should have been there for her. I wasn't. Just like I wasn't there for her the night of the accident."

The terror resonating in his voice ignited the same emotions inside Erin. She felt her control slipping, like sand through her fingers, no matter how tight her grasp. "This isn't your fault."

"I don't have time for this," he snapped.

Erin 's stomach roiled and she felt nauseous. Oh, she hadn't meant to involve that sweet little girl!

"I've got to go to the station," he said.

"Let me come with you."

"Stay here," he ordered. "I don't need DiCarlo getting his hands on you, too." Without speaking, Nick bent and scooped up his uniform shirt. She watched, numb with pain, as he buttoned it with shaking, bleeding fingers.

He barely looked at her as he buckled his holster. "No one knows you're here. Don't open the door for anyone but me. Keep your sidearm close. You got that?"

Erin barely heard his words as cold realization crept over her. An instant later, the situation crystallized. DiCarlo didn't want Stephanie; he wanted Erin. The knowledge impacted her solidly, hitting a place that was raw and weak. She nearly crumpled with the blow.

Shaking, barely trusting her legs, Erin crossed the room. "DiCarlo doesn't want Stephanie, Nick. He wants me."

The rumble of thunder outside punctuated the thick silence that followed her words. Nick slipped his cell phone into his uniform pocket, then turned to her. Erin winced at the ice in his gaze. She couldn't believe that just a few short hours earlier he'd caressed her with such utter tenderness. Shared intimacies with her. Opened his heart. Stolen her own. Her heart shattered with the realization that he blamed her for Stephanie's kidnapping.

He hadn't said the words, but Erin saw the accusation in the depths of his eyes. She stared at him, willing herself to believe it wasn't her fault. But the truth made her sick with regret. Her heart broke with the knowledge that the man she loved blamed her for risking something as precious as his child.

"Don't do anything stupid," he warned.

"I'll stay." She couldn't, of course. She had to find Stephanie. Erin couldn't let that little girl pay for something she herself had done.

He crossed to her and kissed her then-a hard, emotionless kiss born of desperation and fear. But it moved her nonetheless. Moved her so profoundly that her throat locked up and she choked back a sob.

No longer trusting her legs, she backed toward the bed, then slowly sank to a sitting position. She had the sudden, irrational urge to tell him she loved him, fearing this moment would be her only chance, but she didn't.

"Watch yourself," he said. Then, without looking back, he opened the door and stepped into the night.

Erin slapped her badge down on the counter and shot the desk clerk her best don't-mess-with-me glare. "I'm a police officer. I'm commandeering a vehicle for a police emergency."

The desk clerk of the Pioneer Motel stared at her as if she'd just told him she was going to shoot off one of his fingers. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I need a vehicle," she snapped. "Now!"

The young man jumped. "Uh… is a truck okay?"

"Fine. Give me the keys." She looked at the clock on the wall behind him. It was twelve-thirty. Outside, a crack of thunder vibrated the walls. How on earth was she going to find Stephanie?

The clerk unsnapped a key chain from his belt loop and handed it to her. "Should I call the police or something?"

"Chief Ryan has already been apprised of the situation."

The young man didn't look convinced. "When do I get my truck back?"

"You can pick it up at the station later this afternoon." She took the key. "Where's the vehicle?"

"Out back. Next to the Dumpster."

The pickup truck should have been in the Dumpster as far as Erin was concerned. She stalled it twice before getting out of the parking lot, and once on the way to her apartment. By the time she unlocked the door, her heart was raging with frustration. The minutes were ticking by, and she didn't have the slightest idea how to find Stephanie. Her police training told her to find Nick or call Frank in Chicago. The part of her that was crushed by guilt because she'd endangered a child's life wasn't thinking quite as logically. Erin knew DiCarlo wanted her, not Stephanie. It made perfect sense to offer up herself in exchange for the child.