by Tee O'Fallon
Tess laughed. “I know I warned you to be careful around him, but I really think the feeling is mutual on his part.”
“What feeling? The only feeling he has for me is the hope that I cooperate with his investigation.”
“Are you blind? He can’t keep his eyes off you. As soon as your back is turned, he watches your every move.”
“Yeah, but not for the reason you think. He’s only keeping tabs on me so he doesn’t miss me taking another call from Joe.”
“Honey,” she continued, “that’s not the only reason he keeps tabs on you. Trust me. Hunky, gorgeous guys like him who actually have brains don’t come along every day. For a cop, he might be all right after all.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Andi shook her head. “He’s off-limits to me, and I’m off-limits to him.”
“And why is that?” Tess prodded.
“For starters, I’m still a suspect he thinks may be helping Joe. And my personal rule still stands. No. Men.” At least until one she could trust again came along.
“If he really believed you were a suspect, I don’t think he’d be making with the touchy-feely so much with you. What else you got?”
“He has zero sense of humor.” Kind of, although she was beginning to think he really did have one.
“That’s ridiculous.” Tess leaned against the railing. “He laughs all the time, and the bar is packed every night because of him. The women love him, and the guys dig him, so how stiff can he be?” She giggled. “Okay, perhaps not the best choice of words, but you know what I mean.”
Andi shook her head. “I can’t trust him. He’s twisting my life around to suit his needs.” Sound familiar? she reminded herself. Just like Steve had done.
Tess turned to face her. “Has he lied to you?”
“Well, no. At least not that I know of.” Andi watched a young woman in the dog run leash up her dog. “What’s with the Team Nick thing? I seem to recall you warning me to be careful of cops, him in particular.”
“I would never get involved with one.” Tess pointed to her chest then to Andi. “Doesn’t mean you can’t.”
Again, she shook her head, although even she had to admit her resolve was slipping. “He’s not my type. I need someone who likes music, and books, and who wouldn’t feel like a sissy going to a musical with me.”
“I give up.” Tess flung her hands in the air and went back inside the restaurant.
Andi took a minute to scan the deck for empties. Satisfied the waitresses hadn’t missed any, she joined Tess inside where she was standing at one end of the bar, grinning. Tess canted her head to where Nick was polishing off the last of his panini. On the bar next to his plate was an open book.
“Well, there ya go,” she said. “Cops can read. Looks like you can put a check mark next to at least one of your criteria.” She smiled smugly and walked into the kitchen.
He closed the book, tucking it under his arm, then picked up his plate and headed in her direction. “What?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
She pointed to the book—The Count of Monte Cristo—unable to hide the look of surprise on her face. “It’s a book.”
His mouth twisted, and not for the first time she noted the contrast between the hard, masculine features of his face and those soft lips that he’d pressed to her forehead. “I can read, you know.”
“The Count of Monte Cristo?” She smiled. “I figured you’d read cop books, or books about federal agents and spies.”
“I always wanted a sword,” he said with a straight face.
She huffed. “You men and your phallic symbols.”
He chuckled, a rich sound that sent tingles dancing up her spine.
Tess let out a low whistle from where she now stood at the kitchen doorway. “Who. Is. That?”
Eric stood just inside the front door. His gaze locked with Nick’s. If Eric’s presence hadn’t been enough to have her tensing with worry, the man standing next to him was. FBI Special Agent Cox.
Her heart sank. Something about the expression on Cox’s face could only mean one thing… Bad news.
…
Feds working on a Saturday night?
Only if bad shit was going down that couldn’t wait until Monday.
Nick set his book and empty plate on the ledge beneath the bar.
Andi grabbed his arm, her fingers cool against his skin. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” She glanced to where Eric and Cox were seating themselves at the other side of the bar.
He looked into her worried eyes. Lying to her was something he couldn’t do. “Probably.”
“Then I want to be part of this conversation.” She started past him.
“Wait.” He stretched out an arm, stopping her.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Anything about this concerns me, too.”
“Be patient. I need to speak with them first. Alone.” Mainly because of the text message he’d received earlier in the day from Eric.
Cox had heard back from Andi’s bank. The fact that the agent had shown up in person to deliver the results on a weekend didn’t bode well.
“Okay.” She held up her hands in defeat.
As she turned and walked to the front door, he glimpsed Meera and Frank waiting in line for a table. They both waved to him, smiling.
He flexed his fingers, still feeling the warmth from Andi’s slim body. Aside from putting his hand on her shoulder, that had been the first time he’d touched her in two weeks. Two weeks of torture.
Keeping physical distance from her was driving him out of his mind. But he couldn’t go there. Not while she was still a suspect, and not while she was involved in this case.
Who am I kidding?
The real reason for keeping his distance was that his heart wasn’t capable of deep attachment. Innocent or not, she would always be out of his reach. Although for the first time since his wife died, he felt the undeniable urge to bash through that self-imposed barrier and see where he landed.
He tipped his chin in the direction of the temporary bartender Andi had hired to back him up tonight. Mark, a thirty-something guy with dark hair and brown eyes, nodded back, acknowledging Nick’s request that he cover him for a few minutes.
When he came around the outside of the bar to where Eric and Cox were seated, the first things he noted were the bags under Cox’s eyes and the worry lines on the man’s forehead.
“You look like shit. To what do I owe the honor of your presence on a Saturday night?” He looked from Eric to Cox, although his question was directed solely at the FBI agent.
Cox shot Nick a fuck-you look. “First off, there were no prints in Myer’s house besides his, Andi’s, and a housekeeper who cleans once a month.”
“And the cigarette butt outside the front door?” Nick asked.
Cox shook his head. “No prints and not enough DNA to run through CODIS.”
“You could have told me that Monday.” Nick crossed his arms, knowing damn well there was another reason for Cox’s visit.
“We still don’t know about Andi.”
His gut clenched. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” the agent continued, “the bank is dragging its ass getting back to us with more information on that wire transfer from her account. They said they’ll call us on Monday.” Cox’s expression darkened. “Unfortunately, that’s not all.”
“What else?” Whatever the man was about to say was the real reason they’d shown up on a Saturday night.
“I’ll take this one.” Eric pulled a few papers from his back pocket. “Myer slipped across the Canadian border through Quebec two weeks ago, the day before the search warrant. We don’t know how, but he did. Kade’s been spot-checking for border crossings, and somehow it never made it into the system until last night.”
“Two weeks ago?” He got in Cox’s face. “How did that happen with a Red Notice in place?” In his years with the state police, he’d grabbed several foreign criminals on Interpol Red Notices.
Cox took a r
esigned breath. “Because there was no Red Notice.”
“Come again?” Nick said in a pissed-off tone. “Because I must have misheard you.”
“You didn’t.” The agent shook his head. “Apparently, the DOJ attorney implementing the Red Notice went home early that day. Before filing the notice with Interpol. Naturally, that was the same day Myer slipped across the border.”
“Fuck.” He took a calming breath, resisting the urge to heave a nearby glass at the wall.
“We’re working with the Border Enforcement Security Task Force,” Eric said, pausing to glance at Tess as she strode through the dining tables, balancing a tray laden with dinner plates. “Between DHS, the Bureau, and the Mounties, maybe we can track his ass down.”
“Meanwhile,” Cox said as he got off his stool, “the AUSA wants you to stay put here. He’s convinced Myer will call Andi again.”
So was Nick, and that couldn’t happen soon enough. He’d concocted this plan for the sole purpose of getting to the gun dealer, but now what he needed more than anything was to get as far away from Andi as soon as possible. His personal feelings were more than beginning to cloud his professional judgment and mess with his impartiality. The only way to get reassigned was to see this case through to the end.
“Sorry, pal.” Cox sent him an apologetic look. “Stay in touch.”
“Right.” Hell.
The minute Cox was out the door, Eric threw down a twenty. “Buy you a beer? You look like you need it.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “You know it.” He hadn’t been drinking while on duty—bar duty, that was—but tonight, he could sure use a cold one.
As soon as Mark poured them both a Sam Adams, Nick held up his glass to Eric’s. Eric, however, was staring across the dining room again.
“What’s her story?” He nodded to the DPC’s feisty manager. “She’s cute.”
Nick sent his friend a disapproving look. “Stay away from her. At least until this assignment’s over. I don’t want to complicate things more than they are already.” Truthfully, in the past two weeks he’d come to like Tess, but Eric was commitment-phobic, and he didn’t want to see Tess get hurt.
“You should talk, bro.” Eric took a sip of his beer. “Every time I walk in here, you’re eyeballing the lovely Ms. Andi Hardt.”
He took a long drink of beer, not willing to admit anything. Not even to Eric, who was one of his best friends.
“You know,” Eric continued, “I don’t believe she’s guilty any more than you do. Once she’s in the clear—”
“Not gonna happen.” His gaze found the subject of their conversation chatting with Meera and Frank, who’d just sat down at a table near the piano. “There’s too much riding on this case to fuck it up.” Besides, he was no better than Eric at commitment, although their reasons for detachment were totally different.
Eric set down his glass, holding up a hand. “Just sayin’.”
“Yeah, well, don’t.” He gripped his beer tighter.
Whether she was innocent or not, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that his motivations for bringing in Myer were becoming murky.
Since he’d found Tanya with the gun in her hand, he’d made it his life’s mission to get illegal guns off the streets. It was his own personal brand of justice, and a way of saying his final goodbye. He still wanted to nail the gun dealer, but now his mission had a new component—proving Andi’s innocence. To do that, he needed Myer.
“Something already happen between you two?”
He caught Eric watching him, concern in his eyes.
“No.” Liar.
“Well?” his friend prodded.
“I almost kissed her.” Twice, but who the fuck’s counting?
“Ah.” He smiled briefly, then nodded in understanding. “She almost kiss you back?”
Hell yeah.
Eric’s face sobered. “Tanya’s been gone a long time. She’d want you to be happy. We all do.”
He knew that. Tanya had wanted him to be happy. She’d said so in the letter she’d written him the day she’d killed herself.
Someone touched him on the back. Andi. As always, her flowery scent preceded her.
She gazed up at him with a hopeful expression. “Do you have any good news? Do you know where Joe is?”
“Hi, Andi.” Eric smiled.
“Special Agent Miller,” she said coolly.
“Call me Eric,” he insisted.
“Eric, then.” She smiled back, but her mouth was tight, and he knew her expressive face well enough to know it was forced.
“Joe crossed into Canada two weeks ago,” Nick told her.
She let out a heavy breath. “Not exactly the sign of someone considering turning himself in, is it?”
He opened his mouth, about to agree with her assessment, when five men shouted in unison.
“Nick!”
Taking up every inch of the front doorway were his best friends. He’d all but forgotten they were coming into town to supplement security at the Northeast Expo.
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered as the entire crew surged to the bar. He hoped Eric had filled them in that he was quasi-undercover. Customers—particularly women—were beginning to stare at the boisterous bunch.
“I take it these are friends of yours?” Andi watched as they clapped Eric on the back, then took up surrounding stools.
“Sadly, yes.” In reality, he was always glad to see them.
She leaned in. “They’re police, too?”
He nodded. “Police or federal agents.”
“Wonderful.” She pasted on a sarcastic smile. “A bar full of cops and feds. Did you call in backup to make sure I don’t run off to meet Joe in Canada?”
He looked down and spoke the truth. “I never thought you’d do that. Despite what you think, I trust you to see this through.”
For a moment she looked at him with disbelief, then her eyes softened. “Thank you.”
Those two little words caused something inside him to shift, altering his perspective and forcing him to take a virtual step back. They’d come to a crossroads, where his personal and professional lanes intersected. Exercising caution was the paramount tenet of police training, so as he stood there, gazing down into her clear blue eyes, he was frozen in time and place, assessing and reassessing.
Questions and concerns jabbed at his brain and his memory, and when forced to make a choice, he honestly didn’t know which way he’d turn. “You’re welcome,” he said finally, and was rewarded with the second genuine smile he’d ever seen on her face. One that had his gut twisting with the need to kiss her. For real, this time.
Matt was the first to extend his hand. “Good to see you, Nick.”
He took Matt’s hand, shaking it firmly. He’d walk through fire for any of his friends, but he and Matt knew each other’s shit like nobody’s business. “How’s Trista?”
At the mention of his wife, Matt grinned like an idiot. “She’s good.”
A year ago, Matt had married a CIA analyst he’d fallen crazy-ass in love with. Nick had stood up for him at the wedding. Since then, he’d come to cherish his friendship with Matt’s new wife almost as much as he valued Matt’s. He still got a kick out of how a five-foot-one-inch sprite had tamed his best friend. Matt was over a foot taller than Trista, but he was a doting pile of mush where his wife was concerned.
“This is Matt Connors.” He rested his hand at Andi’s back, urging her closer to the bar. For a moment, she stiffened at his touch. Then, unless he was imagining it, she actually leaned back, increasing the contact. And damned if he didn’t keep his hand right where it was.
“How do you do.” She reached out to shake hands with Matt.
He went down the line, introducing Kade Sampson and Dayne Andrews next. Despite being the DHS’s toughest K-9 cop, Kade’s dimpled smile never failed to win over the ladies. Dayne’s ruggedness and intense green eyes drew women like flies, but he remained his usual, reticent self.
As Andi
shook hands with Markus York, Nick eyed the grisly scar over his friend’s left eye. Markus had gotten into some kind of scuffle a few months back but wouldn’t talk about it. Since he’d been wounded, his friend’s obsidian eyes seemed darker than ever.
“And this,” he said as he stopped in front of the man whose cocky grin and swagger were a source of never-ending amusement, “is Jaime Pataglia.”
When Andi held out her hand, Jaime clasped it, then pressed his lips to her fingers. She grinned, and Nick ground his teeth, shooting Jaime a look that said it all. Back the fuck off. He knew his friend didn’t mean anything by the overtly flirtatious display. Hardly. Jaime’s excessively friendly manner was a time-perfected cover for some seriously heavy baggage the man had been carrying around for years.
“Romeo”—Eric dropped a hand on Jaime’s shoulder and tugged him back onto the barstool—“I think the lady’s had enough of your smoochy city ways.” He shot the other man a warning look.
Somehow, Eric had known exactly what Nick had been thinking—that if Jaime didn’t get his lips off Andi’s fingers, he might have to take him out back and beat some sense into him.
Nick had no business going all Neanderthal-possessive on Andi. They’d almost kissed. Big deal. That didn’t make her his. And Jaime was his friend, for fuck’s sake.
But I want her.
That was the thought hammering in his brain as he watched her blush and take back her hand. The realization sent his possessive thoughts into overdrive, and he resisted his caveman need to brand her lips with his right then and there in front of his friends and everyone else in the restaurant.
“Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.” She glanced to the front door where Tess was playing hostess. The place was brimming with people trying to get in for the show. “I’d better get back to work.”
He tracked her as she joined Tess at the front door. When he turned back to his friends, Matt chuckled. Eric and Jaime grinned. Dayne, Markus, and Kade rolled their eyes.
“Fuck all of you,” Nick said as he went back behind the bar to pour his friends beers. Laughter followed him every step of the way.
He grabbed enough money from his tip jar to cover a round of beers, then stuffed the money into the register. When he turned around, Andi caught his attention. Her cell phone was glued to her ear.
