Linda Castillo - Cops and…Lovers?

"She's clean."

Roughly, her hands were jerked behind her back. "Tying me up wasn't part of the deal-"

"Shut up."

She tried to jerk away, but two of the thugs stepped forward to subdue her. Knowing she couldn't win, she stopped fighting and let them bind her wrists with a thin strand of wire. Erin fought down panic. She could still get to her pistol, she assured herself. It would be difficult, but she could still use it. Easy. Breathe. Focus.

Oh, God, Nick, I'm sorry.

"Turn around, cop."

She turned, hoping they couldn't see the fear that permeated her every fiber. The thugs seemed more relaxed now that she'd been subdued. "Where's DiCarlo?" she asked.

As if on cue, the unmistakable drone of a helicopter rose above the howl of the wind. And Erin knew the final showdown was about to begin.

Panic swirled through Nick in a violent maelstrom as he drove the Suburban through the storm. Rain and hailstones pounded the windshield. The wipers couldn't keep up with the deluge, but he didn't slow down. He drove blindly, propelled by a force stronger than panic, deeper than fear. After leaving the station, Nick had called Erin 's apartment twice from his cellular, only to find the line busy. That was all it took for him to realize something was wrong. He'd walked into her apartment and spotted the dangling phone next to the answering machine. The blinking light was all he needed to know she'd left him a clue.

Dread burgeoned anew in his chest as he recalled the recorded conversation on her answering machine. God bless her for thinking like a cop and recording DiCarlo's call.

Now, pressing the speedometer to eighty, hydroplaning dangerously, Nick nearly missed the entrance to the grain elevator. He stomped on the brake. The vehicle fishtailed, coming to a stop just a few feet short of the drainage ditch.

He punched off the headlights, aware of his labored breathing even above the roar of the storm. Backing the truck beneath a stand of trees near the entrance, he shut down the engine and got out. Rain and wind pelted him, but Nick barely felt the wet or the cold. Fifty yards away, the massive structure of the grain elevator rose up out of the earth like ancient ruins.

He couldn't bear to think of the terror Stephanie must be feeling. He prayed DiCarlo wouldn't harm an innocent child. At the same time, he tried to put himself inside Erin 's head. Had she traded herself for Stephanie? Or was she somehow planning to ambush DiCarlo and his men? Both scenarios sent a shiver of fear up his spine. So many things could go wrong. He should have realized she wouldn't stay at the motel. He'd been foolish in trusting her. Damn her for being so brave. Damn himself for loving her, anyway.

She knew DiCarlo was known to be particularly ruthless in the punishments he handed out to cops. If he hurt Erin…

Nick banked the thought, but not before he felt another blade of fear slice him. And he silently vowed that if DiCarlo hurt them, Nick would lay down his badge and take out the man with his bare hands.

Using the downpour as cover, he started toward the elevator at a dead run. The blue truck Erin had commandeered sat a few yards from the entrance, but she wasn't inside. An instant later, the sound of chopper blades reached him. Nick stopped and spun, spotting the Bell 206 helicopter a hundred yards away, about to land in an open area on the other side of the building.

DiCarlo.

Shock and a fresh wave of fear rippled through Nick. A personal visit from the crime boss was highly unusual. DiCarlo wouldn't waste any time with small talk.

Knowing he would be spotted out in the open, Nick sprinted toward the fence line that ran the length of the property. Brush scratched his face and ripped at his clothes, but he barely felt the pain. Mud sucked at his boots, but he didn't slow. He had to get close without being detected. Then he had to extract Erin and Stephanie before DiCarlo killed them both.

Erin watched Vic DiCarlo step out of the helicopter, angling his umbrella against the rain as he approached. Dread and terror streaked through her system like a fast-acting drug when she realized he'd probably come to handle her execution personally.

Breaking free of the two thugs, she ran toward Stephanie and dropped to her knees in front of the little girl, kissing her softly on her cheek. "It's okay, honey. These men want to talk to me for a little while, but they're going to take you home."

"Why did they tie you up?" Stephanie cried.

Erin closed her eyes and choked back a sob. She didn't know what to say. Oh, Lord, please keep this child safe. "Because I'm a police officer. They don't want me to arrest them."

Her heart broke when the little girl's arms went around her. Oh, how she longed to hug her back!

"I'm scared, Erin."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm scared, too. We're going to have to be brave, though, okay?"

"'Kay."

"Everything will be all right. I promise. Just hold on to me and try to stay calm, okay, sweetheart?" Erin didn't know that for sure. She had no idea what DiCarlo had planned for them. But she couldn't bear to let this child go without some kind of reassurance.

"I love you, Erin."

She closed her eyes, felt the tears burst through the dam. Knowing she had only a moment, she pressed her cheek against Stephanie's, felt their tears join. "I love you, too, sweetheart."

"Take the child to the limo."

Erin 's heart stopped in her chest at the sound of DiCarlo's voice. Terror pierced through her pain.

"No!" Stephanie cried. "I want to stay with Erin!"

It took Erin a moment to find her voice. "Go with them, honey. Please. They'll take you home." She forced her gaze to DiCarlo's, hoping for some kind of confirmation, but his expression was cold.

She barely felt the rough hands that jerked her to her feet. She watched as one of the thugs approached and began rolling Stephanie toward the entrance. The little girl turned in her chair, her eyes seeking Erin 's. Agony filled her chest at the fear in Stephanie's eyes. Erin felt the child's departure like a stake through her heart.

"Ah, I'm deeply touched."

Breaking eye contact with Stephanie, Erin faced DiCarlo. He was standing so close she could smell his expensive cologne. He contemplated her with eyes that were as lifeless as a mannequin's. She'd seen dozens of pictures of him over the years, but nothing had prepared her for the power of his presence. He was shorter than she'd imagined, just an inch or two taller than she was, but he emanated power from every pore.

Without warning his hand shot out, his palm cracking against her cheekbone like a bullwhip. The sudden violence of the act stunned her. Her head snapped back. The force of the blow sent her down on one knee.

"I've waited six months for this moment," he said.

Shaking her head against the dizziness, she raised her eyes to his. "Give me your word you won't hurt that child."

"The way you hurt my son?"

She didn't even pretend not to know what he was talking about. The warehouse. The man she'd shot six months ago in Chicago. "Your son pointed a gun at a police officer."

"My son was eighteen years old. A child. You didn't give him a chance to bargain, Officer McNeal. You didn't give me a chance to beg for his life. Why should I do the same for you?"

"That little girl is innocent. She lost her mother three years ago. She's had enough pain in her life. Dammit, let her go."

"My son is dead because of you," he said coldly. "You took from me the only thing I truly cared about in this world. I'm here now to make sure you pay for that."

Dread squeezed her chest like a giant serpent, tightening until she couldn't draw a breath. For the first time, Erin realized fully his capacity for evil, the breadth and width of his need for revenge. "You can do what you want with me-"