by Sarah Grimm
“I want you to believe me.”
“My personal beliefs don’t mean much if I can’t back them up with something concrete.”
Pain, along with an odd sense of betrayal filled her. “Something more than the word of your prime suspect, you mean.”
She straightened, prepared to walk away. His hand atop hers stopped her retreat.
Paige jolted with surprise, her gaze drawn to the top of the desk, to the sudden warmth of her fingers beneath his. She remained before him, frozen in place, unable to breathe as sparks of electricity shot up her arm.
She blamed it on the noise and the disturbance, on her morning and her unease over being in a police station after so many years. She blamed it on her concussion, anything, but the man before her. Not this man, who didn’t believe in her.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I have to follow procedure.”
She stared down at him, pulse racing. “Of course you do. In the meantime, I’m supposed to do what? Sit back and wait for the person who failed to kill me this morning to try again?”
“You don’t know for sure that he will.”
“I don’t know that he won’t.” With as much composure as she could muster, she pulled her hand out from under his, turned on her heels and limped from the room.
It wasn’t until she reached the glass front doors that she caught her breath. She stepped to the side, out of the way of the flow of traffic, and wrapped her arms about her middle. Acid pooled in her stomach, her pulse galloped. She needed a few moments to pull herself back together.
Never had a man unnerved her so. Just one touch, just one look from those dark eyes of his and she was lost. Her knees knocked, her insides turned to jelly, and all reasonable thought left her. Even his occupation, her personal aversion to his job, didn’t lessen his effect on her.
Tightening her arms Paige stared out at the parking lot. As her gaze settled upon a bright orange GTO, sunshine glinting off the polished rear bumper, she accepted the truth. She was in danger. Not just from a faceless assailant she feared would steal her life, but from a dark-eyed detective she feared would steal her heart.
And give it back to her in tiny little pieces.
* * * * *
Paige had barely cleared the archway before Allan turned to Justin. “Mind telling me what that was about?”
The accusing edge to his partner’s voice set knots of tension settling across Justin’s shoulders. He pushed aside his guilt over how hard he’d been on Paige, and focused on his partner. “What do you mean?”
“You want me to spell it out for you?”
“I guess you’re going to have to because I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
“You were with her last night.”
The accusation was clear, tossed between them like a gauntlet.
“Damn it, Justin, I don’t like being left in the dark!”
“Are you asking what happened or accusing me of something?”
“I can guess what happened.”
It was a struggle to stay calm. “You can, huh?”
“You have a reputation with women. You see one you want, you go after her. You crossed the line.”
“I didn’t.”
“You crossed the line and got involved with a suspect. What’s wrong with you? This is a tough case. I need you to be objective and you can’t do that if all your thoughts are centered below the belt.”
Anger began a slow burn inside him, rising to an icy rage. He’d done nothing wrong and never expected Allan to jump to such an unsubstantiated conclusion. “You’d think after all these years you’d know me better than that.”
“You should have filled me in.”
And told him what? That upon first meeting Paige Conroy he’d felt a connection with her that he’d never before experienced? That he had left work and made it all the way home before the urge to see her became too strong to ignore? That he’d actually showered and shaved in anticipation? Justin didn’t think so.
He ran a palm over the knotted muscles in his neck. The bond between him and Allan was ironclad. They shared not only their professional lives, but their personal ones. This thing with Paige Conroy, whatever it was, Justin couldn’t share. Because he didn’t understand it yet himself.
It didn’t really matter, because nothing had happened. He hadn’t touched her. “If there’s something you need to know, I’ll tell you.”
“Meaning mind my own business.”
“Meaning there’s nothing to tell.”
Allan shook his head and sighed. “You’ve made a mistake.”
Maybe, but it was his mistake to make. He stood, grabbed his worn, brown leather jacket off the back of his chair and pushed his arms into the sleeves with more force than was necessary. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“You’re going after her, aren’t you?”
Never before had he been so aware of a woman. Damn it, he’d spent the last twenty-four hours trying to banish her from his thoughts. But she’d gotten under his skin. How the hell had that happened? “She’s in trouble.”
“She could be trouble.”
“Yes, she could be.”
“But you’ll risk it, our investigation, your job?”
Justin’s thoughts veered to the courageous woman who stood before him yesterday, the green eyes that had locked with his as she denied any involvement in St. John’s murder. He pictured the panic ridden woman who’d collapsed on the stairs, so obviously in pain, yet still managed not to break down. He scrubbed his hand across his face as he recalled how quickly he’d changed all of that by refusing to vocalize his belief in her innocence. Just before she’d turned away, he’d caught the welling of tears in her eyes.
Justin leaned forward, palms flat against the top of his desk. “I believe her, Allan.”
Allan sighed audibly. “What can you do?”
What could he do? He knew all of what Allan said to be true. He was taking a risk he couldn’t afford to take. The stakes were too high. Justin risked the very thing that defined him—his job. He’d been wise to walk away from Paige last night, wiser to let her walk away today. The only result of his getting involved, would be damage to his credibility.
So why even think about doing this?
“Justin?”
Allan sat unmoving, waiting for an answer. Justin didn’t have one for him. He didn’t know what he could do to help. He just knew he had to do something. Like most cops, he didn’t believe in coincidence. “Give me twenty minutes.”
Allan mumbled something unintelligible under his breath. He pinned Justin in place with a look. “She may already be gone.”
Justin smiled wryly. “Where’s she going to go, Allan? She has no car.”
Five minutes later, Justin’s grim prediction proved to be true when he found Paige near the glass front doors of the station. She stood looking out toward the parking lot, arms hugged around her middle as if protecting herself from something only she could see. Sunlight streamed through the glass and across her face, emphasizing the dark bruising that marred her left temple, the brutal gash that bisected her eyebrow.
Frustration coiled his muscles like tightly wound springs. Her appearance, the fact that fear remained evident in her gaze, should have quelled his need for her. Diminished it at least.
It didn’t.
He fisted his hands at his side to keep from reaching for her. He didn’t want to feel attraction, didn’t need the added protective urge that coursed through him. The circumstances were bad, the timing rotten. The fact that the feelings existed and he couldn’t do anything about them had his jaw tightening painfully.
He expelled a frustrated breath and crossed to stand at her side. “I’d like to help.”
She came alive at his words, beautifully, surprisingly alive. “And do what? Hold my hand?”
Justin blinked at the immediate change in her. He too
k a moment to study her before deciding he liked her like this, standing firm as temper sparkled in her eyes. Holding her own, even as her body trembled from a combination of fear and pain. Her head had to ache like the devil, yet she didn’t crumble. Instead, she used her discomfort to fuel her anger and fight back.
She was really something, this woman who’d gotten to him on a level no woman before her had ever managed.
“If you want me to.”
Turning abruptly, she faced him. He reached out and curled his fingers around her upper arm when she swayed.
“What…” Her lashes fluttered before she steadied herself. “What are you up to?”
“I have to be up to something to want to help you?”
Her eyes narrowed as emotions played across her face: anger, confusion, suspicion. “Not fifteen minutes ago I asked for your help and you turned me down.”
He smoothed his palm down her sleeve and took her hand in his. Felt the same zing of electricity as the last time he’d touched her. “Now I’m offering it.”
Paige visibly jolted. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her voice was unsteady as she finally said, “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Well then,” with his free hand he pulled his business card from the inside pocket of his jacket and placed it into her upturned palm, sandwiching her hand between both of his. “In case you change your mind.”
She glanced from him to their joined hands and back again. “Do you believe me?” she whispered.
He’d hurt her, he realized. In refusing to accept her word that what happened to her this morning was connected to her friend’s murder, he’d clearly wounded her.
Releasing the card into her palm, he raised his hand and gently brushed his knuckles over her forehead, around her bruise and down her cheek. “I believe you.”
The corner of her mouth turned up in the slightest of smiles even as she bit down on her lower lip. Justin sucked in a breath and worked to push it past the ball of need that whipped through him quietly, painfully, overriding his better judgment, his self-control. He shouldn’t get involved, couldn’t let himself care. But knowing it didn’t stop him from saying the words that sealed his fate.
“I believe you. I don’t think you had anything to do with St. John’s death.”
“What about my car?”
“If you aren’t guilty of murder, why would you destroy such a beautiful piece of American engineering?” Her fingers squeezed his and he swept his thumb across her knuckle. “I’ll find whoever’s responsible. In the meantime, if you need to talk to me, about anything, my number is on the card.”
As if they had a mind of their own, his fingers slid farther down her face. Reason told him to stop. Risking everything, his career, his reputation within the department for one little taste of her wasn’t smart. He knew attraction faded and then disappeared. Knew love was nothing but a fabrication, a fairy tale he didn’t buy into.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he trailed his fingers down her neck to settle at her throat. Beneath his thumb, her pulse skipped. She didn’t pull away, as he half expected her to do. Maybe if she had, he could have resisted, tamped down the desire that burned in his gut. But she didn’t. She didn’t move at all. She just gazed at him, her features softened, her cheeks colored.
Need slammed through him, driving away the last of his resolve. He knew all the reasons why he shouldn’t do this, but with the scent of her surrounding him, the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, he no longer cared. In a matter of seconds, he made the conscience choice to push objectivity out the window.
Easing closer, Justin lowered his head.
Chapter Five
“Harrison, you old dog!”
Pain exploded along Justin’s left side, driving the air from his lungs and forcing him to release Paige abruptly. He bit back the curse that echoed in his head as his nerve endings sang out in protest. His stomach cramped, his lungs wheezed. It was all he could do not to double over and empty his stomach on his boots.
Impervious to his pain, the officer who’d jovially slapped him on the shoulder continued. “Two days back and already the ladies are all over you.”
A single bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He settled his hand upon his ribs and drew deep breaths in through his nostrils and out his mouth. White spots danced across his field of vision. His ears rang, making it near impossible for him to understand the words of the young officer at his side.
“I hope you’re not looking for sympathy from the rest of us,” the man exclaimed with a grin that quickly faded as he turned toward Paige and caught sight of her injuries. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry. I thought…I automatically assumed…”
Justin struggled to pull himself together enough to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Helplessly he watched as Paige, her face pale and creased with confusion, stepped away from him. Her gaze locked with his, she raised her hand and pressed her fingers against her lips. The lips he’d yet to taste.
“I’m sorry,” the officer repeated before he made his hasty exit.
Justin didn’t move a muscle. Carefully, Paige bent to retrieve the fallen business card. Her hand shook hard enough she made two swipes before her fingers curled around it. A soft groan slid past her lips as she straightened and her hand lifted to her temple.
He envied her freedom to acknowledge her discomfort as he struggled against his own. Justin couldn’t let anyone see the clawing ache that tore at him. He couldn’t risk anyone asking questions. Holding himself totally still, he drew each shallow breath carefully, unable to do more than watch as Paige continued to walk backwards, each step taking her farther away from him.
“I have to go,” she stated, her voice raw and unsteady, her breathing as ragged as his.
He’d just come close to screwing up. Big time. Yet he couldn’t work up the emotion to be glad he’d been interrupted before taking that last step over Allan’s proverbial line.
“Paige.”
She stopped her retreat. For a moment, a heartbeat really, he thought she would reach out to him, renew the connection so abruptly broken.
“I can’t…breathe in this place.”
Disappointment sliced through him, tensing muscles already screaming out in pain. With the assault his injured side had just taken, he could do no more than watch as she slipped out the door.
He let loose a string of imaginative curses.
“That good, huh?”
Justin turned his head in the direction of his partner’s voice, surprised to find Allan not more than ten feet away from him. From his nearness and the pinched expression he wore, Justin knew Allan had witnessed all that had transpired over the last ten minutes.
He waited as Allan crossed to stand at his side. Watched, as irritation turned to concern. “You aren’t going to pass out on me are you?
God, he hoped not. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only if you know what to look for.”
“Is anyone else looking?”
After a quick but thorough scan of the area, Allan replied, “No.”
Justin doubled over. Hands on his knees, he drew air greedily into his lungs, and forced himself to hold it until he’d worked through the worst of the pain. This was agony, this stabbing ache that incapacitated him. Far worse than when he pushed too hard at therapy, worse than when he slept wrong. It was the worst pain he’d felt in weeks.
