Brenda Harlen - Bulletproof Hearts

She flinched, because she knew he was right and because it was her determination to prove herself and her eagerness to hear about Conroy that had caused her to overlook that obligation.

But again the lieutenant came unexpectedly to her defense. “You’re a fine one to talk about ethics when Zane Conroy has you on retainer.”

“Mr. Conroy is a pillar of this community.”

Creighton laughed. “If he’s the pillar, we’re all in trouble.”

“In any event,” Hawkins continued, “I came here to discuss Roger Merrick, not Mr. Conroy.”

He turned his attention back to Natalie. “I’m considering filing a complaint with the state bar association. I’ll definitely be making my displeasure known to your boss.”

She groaned inwardly, Beckett’s reminder of her probationary status fresh in her mind. She’d been on the job only three weeks and she was already in danger of losing it and all her hopes for her and Jack’s future along with it. But before she could respond to Hawkins’s threat, somehow plead her case, he’d stomped out of her office, the glass rattling in the door as he slammed it behind him.

She sank back into her chair and buried her face in her hands.

“You’d have been prepared for the theatrics if you’d ever seen him in court.”

Natalie pushed her hair away from her forehead and forced a smile. “I probably won’t be here long enough to have that privilege.”

The lieutenant dropped into the chair across from her desk. “He was bluffing.”

“Do you think so?” She hoped he was right; she didn’t want to start job hunting again.

“Hawkins likes to intimidate.”

“He’s good at it.”

Creighton grinned, flashing those killer dimples and making her forget—at least for a second—about her more immediate concerns.

“He won’t make any formal complaint about your secret meeting with his client,” he assured her. “If he does, it’s bound to come out that Merrick was the one who requested the meeting and the secrecy. It will raise questions about his client’s unwillingness to have counsel present. Which, by the way, is something you neglected to mention last night.”

“I didn’t even think about it.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead, trying to assuage the throbbing ache that had settled there. “I was thinking about Roger Merrick, not legal ethics.”

“Is there anything else you forgot to mention?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She pushed her hair back again. “I don’t remember what I told you.”

“We’ll go over it all again some other time. You look exhausted.”

She stifled a yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She shuddered, the image of Merrick’s corpse still too vivid in her mind. “I’m not sure I’ll get any more tonight. And I know you have more questions you need to ask.”

“They can wait.”

“Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I didn’t think it was all of a sudden.”

She recognized the attempted diversion, but she wouldn’t be diverted. “I’ve faced a barrage of accusations since my late-night phone call—the first of them from you. And now you’re the only one who’s standing by me.”

He shrugged. “You already know how I feel about your visit to Merrick’s apartment. There’s no point in rehashing that.”

True, but Natalie sensed there was more to it.

“And last night brought back memories,” he admitted. “I’ve been on the job a long time. So long I’d almost become immune to the horrors of it.”

He shook his head. “Not immune, really. I don’t think anyone could ever get used to seeing some of the things I’ve seen. But as a cop, you learn to shut down a little. You have to close off your emotions in order to get the job done.”

She’d been in practice long enough to understand what he was saying. As a defense attorney, she’d learned to distance herself from the details to maintain objectivity. She’d trained herself to think, not in terms of guilt or innocence, but in the parameters of the law and the defenses available to her client.

Still, nothing she’d seen as a defense attorney had prepared her for the grisly scene in Roger Merrick’s apartment. She shuddered again, unable to prevent the instinctive reaction.

“When I saw you there last night,” Creighton continued, “the shock and horror in your eyes, I remembered my first murder scene. I couldn’t send you away from there on your own.”

“Well, thank you. For understanding. For not making me go back to an empty hotel room in the middle of the night.”

His gaze sharpened. “Hotel?”

“I’ve only been in town a few weeks,” she reminded him. “I haven’t had time to find anything else.”

“What hotel?”

“The Courtland. Why?”

He ignored her question to ask another of his own. “Who knows you’re staying there?”

She frowned. “My sister. My boss. The hotel staff. Why?”

“Roger Merrick.”

She felt the chill crawl over her skin.

“You said he called you,” Creighton reminded her.

“H-he did.”

“At the hotel?”

She swallowed, nodded.

“How did he know you were there?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s not a state secret or anything.” But her flippant response didn’t stop the questions that swirled through her mind. How had he known? Could he have followed her after work one night? She wouldn’t have realized if he had—she’d never set eyes on him before last night. But if he had, why?

“But it’s not common knowledge, is it?” he persisted.

“No,” she agreed hesitantly.

He stood abruptly. “I’m going to check into this.”

She just nodded and watched silently as he moved to the door Hawkins had slammed shut a short while before.

It was late when Dylan finally left the police station that night. Glancing toward the D.A.’s office, he noticed there was a light on in one of the main-floor offices. Natalie’s office.

He paused, car keys in hand. He should go home, cook some dinner, put his feet up on the coffee table, watch a ball game. But his house would be dark, empty.

He glanced toward her office again—watched her silhouette through the window as she pulled her chair away from the desk and sat down. Her hair fell forward to curtain her face as she studied the papers on her desk.

He imagined brushing the hair away from her face, the silky strands sliding through his fingers. He could practically smell the lemony fragrance of her shampoo, the same scent that had brought her image to mind as he’d walked through the produce section of the grocery store earlier.

He turned away from his car and toward the D.A.’s office. If the door was locked, he would go home. He had no reason to interrupt her work.

No reason except that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day. Even as he reviewed surveillance reports and witness statements, she was there—lingering in the back of his mind, haunting him. There were secrets buried in the stormy depths of her eyes. And scars. He recognized both—not just because he was a cop, but because he had plenty of his own.

He pulled on the handle of the heavy glass door, and it opened.

He thought again of Beth—of everything they’d once shared, everything they’d lost. Because of him. It was his job to serve and protect, yet he’d failed to protect the woman he loved.

His life had changed with her death. He still went through the motions of working and living, but it was as if he existed in an emotional vacuum. Nothing got past the wall he’d erected around his heart—no one had even come close.

Until now.

Which was just one more reason he should stay far away from Natalie Vaughn. He had no interest in opening up his heart again. And he was terrified by the possibility that he might fail someone else.