Vincent only stared after her, curling his fingers into his palms. Because she was right. He could keep telling himself he’d pursued this investigation on his own to protect the people around him, but he knew the truth. Just as she did. It’d been his personal need for justice that’d kept him from reaching out to his old commanding officer, from trusting anyone else but himself with the evidence he’d recovered. He wanted to be the one to punish whoever’d killed his teammates that night, who’d tried to kill him. Just like the vigilante she’d accused him of being. But no matter how many times he’d convinced himself otherwise, he wasn’t alone in this. Shea had been dragged into this nightmare the moment she’d stepped on that damn plane.
He traced her steps down the hall, following the sounds of rustling in one of the back rooms, then stilled as he studied her from the doorway of the communications-room-slash-pantry. Dark, curly hair fell in waves down her back as she riffled through the boxed food on the single shelf, and the blood drained from his upper body. No apology could possibly make up for what he’d done, especially if missing the custody hearing kept her from her son permanently, but he’d sure as hell try. “Shea—”
“We should use the station’s radio to try to put the call out to Anchorage PD.” Lean muscle flexed along her arms as she scooped extra food and supplies into the backpack, the gun at the hollow in her back. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t even turn in his direction, her anger a physical presence between them. “Assuming the tactical team out there is listening, they’ll know exactly where to find us. Then we can put this whole thing behind us and go our separate ways. Move on with our lives.”
Move on. She’d already gone out of her way to avoid working with him on joint investigations with Blackhawk Security these past few months. How much more distance did she intend to wedge between them? Vincent stepped into the room, gripped her arms and compelled her to look up at him. Her muscles stiffened beneath his hands in warning. Or was that her body’s natural defense kicking in? Either way, Shea Ramsey obviously saw him as a threat, which was the last thing he wanted. He released his hold on her. Gave her the space she needed. “You were right. I could’ve involved the police or my team, but I wanted to be the one to bring down the bastard who tried to kill me that night.” Hearing the words coming from his own mouth made them real, confirmed what he’d felt deep inside since escaping to Anchorage over a year ago. The NYPD didn’t want him anymore, but that wouldn’t stop him from getting justice the victims of those unsolved cases deserved. That he deserved. “Say what you want about Blackhawk and the work we do, but my team and me? We will do whatever it takes to get the job done, even when that means we have to break a few rules along the way. We fight for our clients. No matter the cost.” Vincent swiped his knuckles alongside her jaw, smooth skin catching against the rough patches on the back of his hand, and her green eyes widened slightly. “Because when it comes to protecting the people we care about, there are no rules.”
He crushed his mouth to hers.
* * *
SHE COULDN’T THINK. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe she was kissing him back.
His mouth on hers seared her skin, through muscle and into bone, and Shea couldn’t force herself to turn away. She’d dreamed of this moment so many times. Late at night, alone in that empty house after she’d gotten home from working a long shift. Most of the calls she and her partner responded to on the job included robbery or violent crime, but the ones when she’d been paired with Blackhawk Security—with Vincent—brought her back from the darkness piece by piece.
The cases they’d worked together challenged her, tested her mental and physical endurance, gave her something new to focus on, even if she didn’t agree with the firm’s methods. Working investigations with him had given her a strength she’d forgotten she’d had, to the point she’d finally asked for professional help from her obstetrician then the department’s counselor a few months ago. Vincent had unknowingly given her hope, a reason to keep going when the postpartum depression had convinced her she couldn’t help anyone. Not even herself.
He maneuvered her backward until the back of her thighs hit the small desk with the radio equipment with a jolt, not breaking the kiss once. His tongue penetrated the seam of her mouth and the world exploded around her. He skimmed his hands around her lower back, wrapping her in the protective circle of his arms. That single touch awakened a sense of safety, of warmth, she’d forgotten existed since her ex had served her with custody papers, and she never wanted it to end. The small gasp of satisfaction at the back of her throat was followed by a laugh, and she set her hand against his chest to push away.
Her skin felt too tight, the thud of her heart too fast in her chest. Damn, the man could kiss, but he was right. This was nothing more than a pressure release in a stress-induced situation. A biological reaction her body needed to get back that sense of adrenaline. Hardened muscle formed ridges and valleys under her fingertips.
Because when it comes to protecting the people we care about, there are no rules.
Had he meant her? Shea traced a piece of loose thread in his shirt, a distraction from the wave of desire washing over her from the inside. “Why did you request me as your partner on the joint investigations between the department and Blackhawk?”
After seeing for herself how Vincent worked—how many laws he and his team ignored in their search for justice—she’d asked her captain to remove her as one of the investigators from the small partnership their respective organizations had formed. Only to learn the truth in the process: Vincent had specifically asked to work with her on the threat that he’d shut down the task force if her captain partnered him with anyone else.
Seconds ticked by. A minute? Shea forced herself to raise her gaze to his, the beat of his heart spiking under her palm, and she was immediately captivated by the inferno in his eyes. The walls closed in. There was a team of killers outside those walls, but right in that moment, he made her feel as though they were the only two people in the world.
“I’ve never been able to ignore a good puzzle. You’re driven but adaptable. You stick to your core values and uphold the law, even at your own personal risk, but you’ll pull your weapon on me for the chance to get your son back. I think you truly care about the people you serve and protect in this city, but you won’t align yourself with Blackhawk because you don’t agree with our methods when we’re trying to do the same thing.” His hands slid along her lower back, fighting back the cold creeping in as the sun went down. The battle invoked a shiver she couldn’t repress across her shoulders, and she hated the fact that her body reacted to it, to him. “You’re out to prove yourself, and that makes you a good cop, one I’m proud to have at my side. But to tell you the truth, none of that matters to me. Not really.”
“It doesn’t?” she asked.
“No.” Vincent tangled his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck; his large palm settled under her ear. “I requested you because not only are you a top-notch pro, but also one look from you makes me forget the nightmare I live with every day since waking up in the middle of that fire.” He stared down at her, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the lantern she’d brought in here with her, and her breath caught. “The only thing I can’t figure out is what you’re hiding.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and Shea dropped her hands away from his chest. Impossible. There was no way he could see through her defenses that easily. Not with all the hard work she’d put into keeping up appearances. Her partner hadn’t known she and Logan had divorced until she’d told him a few months ago. Had Vincent seen more? “What makes you think I’m hiding something?”
“I’m good at my job.” Vincent stepped back, taking his body heat with him, and the cold started creeping in again. Physical or mental, she had no idea, didn’t want to know. “I don’t need to know your secrets, Shea. I need you to trust me. I’ll do everything I can to g
et us out of this alive, and I’m not going to give up until I do. I’ll get you to your son.”
She’d spent the past year in a fog, unable to focus, so mad at everyone and everything around her because her mind hadn’t been able to handle the transition to motherhood. She’d isolated herself from her friends, her family, from the things that’d once made her happy. She’d lost everything that mattered to her in the span of a few months. First, her husband when he couldn’t understand what was happening, then Wells when Logan had moved in with and married a woman he’d met only a few months before. The job became her entire life, and soon her parents had stopped calling; her friends had stopped asking her out. Her partner stopped trying to talk to her on patrol. They’d all given up on her. The only one who hadn’t turned away from her had been Wells, with his beautiful green eyes and chubby hands reaching for her as her ex had walked out the door with their son in his arms for the last time. And she’d just stood there. Frozen. Incapable. Weak.
But Vincent had just promised not to give up on her.
“I’m sorry for what I said. You’ve saved my life, I don’t know how many times now, and you deserve better. I know the plane crash wasn’t your fault, and it’s not your fault I lost my son, either. I should never have put that burden on you.” She nodded, lowering her gaze to the floor as she rubbed the goose pimples from her arms. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she attempted to clear the last remnants of emotion from her system—in vain. It’d been so long since she’d been able to feel anything, she wasn’t sure how to control her emotions anymore. If she could at all. “The truth is I’m the reason my ex started seeing another woman during our marriage, why he filed for divorce. And why he took Wells from me.”
The weight of his attention settled on her chest, a physical presence she couldn’t ignore. “He cheated on you?”
The anger in his voice rocketed her awareness into overdrive.
“Yes, but my point is... I wouldn’t be here without you, and if trusting you gets me to my son, then that’s what I’ll do.” Hell, did any of this make sense to him? She swiped her hand across her forehead. She shrugged despite the battle that’d been raging inside for so long. “Everything else...none of it matters.”
“It matters to me.” Vincent clasped his big hands around hers, invigorating her senses with a fresh wave of his wild, masculine scent. “Your ex-husband has to be the stupidest man on the planet to push an incredible, strong, determined woman like you out of his life. It doesn’t matter what reason he had. You are worthy of a man who will treat you with the care and respect you deserve. Someone who will stand by your side, no matter what. Who will protect you until his last breath and risk his life to be with you.”
All too easily, she imagined Vincent as that man, the one who would wake her and Wells with breakfast in the mornings before he headed into the office for his next assignment, the one who’d spoil her to the ends of the earth with attention and love, the one who’d place a flower over her left ear to announce to his family he’d claimed her body, mind and spirit. She swayed at the intensity of the fantasy, at how incredibly real it was. At how much she wanted it to be true, but this, being stranded out here with him, it was about survival. Nothing more. Because there couldn’t be anything more with her. Not anymore.
“I’m not the person you think I am, Vincent.” Shea tugged her hands out of his. She’d already hit rock bottom over the past few months. What more could she have to lose by telling him the truth, by telling him that despite that gut-wrenching kiss and explaining the way he made her feel, nothing could happen between them? It was sweet the way he’d stood up for her, called her strong when she’d convinced herself otherwise the past nine months. But in reality, he was only able to see what she’d wanted him to see. What she’d wanted everyone to see, including herself. That strength, the determination? None of it was real.
Vincent studied her with those incredibly dark, sexy eyes and her nerve endings fired in rapid succession, keeping her in the moment. Would he still look at her as though she were the only woman in the world after he learned the truth? That she was broken? That she wasn’t worthy of all those things he’d described? “You have this picture of this immovable, dedicated public servant, mother and wife in your head, but it’s all wrong. I’m not that woman.” Shea dropped her gaze to the dimly lit floor, unable to stand another second of his worshipful attention. “You have no idea how much I wish I was her, but a woman like that doesn’t cut herself off from everyone she loves. I’m not anything remotely close to that.”
“You are to me.” He tucked his knuckle under her chin, forcing her to look up at him, and every nerve ending she had responded. “Nothing you say is going to convince me otherwise.”
Chapter Six
Cold worked its way under his heavy jacket as Vincent dropped the magazine out of their only weapon, checked the rounds and slammed it back into place. The sun had gone down, and his fingers numbed with temperatures dropping by the second. The trap was set, but he had yet to see any movement from the surrounding trees. Shea had drifted off to sleep in the only bed in the station about an hour ago, and he’d offered to take the first shift on patrol. He couldn’t sleep. Not with their last conversation echoing through his head. He might’ve worked forensics for most of his career, but he’d read the truth easily enough: Shea didn’t believe she was worthy of love. Not just from her ex-husband—the cheating bastard—but from her son, from her friends, family. Everyone in her life. She’d severed her connections to the people she was supposed to care about.
And he wanted to know why.
He’d gotten his hands on her case files before they’d started working together with permission of the Anchorage PD’s chief of police, studied the way Shea worked, if she stayed within the lines of the law as she claimed. There’d been a few close calls on the job, mostly domestic disputes that hadn’t ended when she and her partner had arrived on the scene. One armed robbery in which she’d intercepted the getaway driver at gunpoint. Nothing to make him think something had drastically altered her life or would dictate how close she got to those she cared about the most. There was no doubt she loved her son. He’d seen her desperation to get Wells back from her ex-husband, how missing the custody hearing was tearing her apart from the inside. So what could’ve possibly happened for her to believe she didn’t deserve to be happy, to be loved?
A branch shifted off to his right, and Vincent homed in on the movement. Waited.
A wall of muscle slammed into him from the opposite side of the clearing, knocking the air from his lungs, and he landed face-first in two feet of snow. Twisting, he grabbed a handful and tossed it into the face of the man who’d tackled him and took aim. His attacker grabbed the weapon and slammed it into Vincent’s face. Once. Twice. Vincent blocked the third attempt, but, faster than he thought possible, the gun disappeared into the trees. White stars flashed in the corners of his eyes as he raised his fists. It’d take a lot more than a couple hits to the face to bring him down. His heart threatened to pound straight out of his chest as Vincent lunged, slamming his opponent into a nearby tree. Flakes fell around them, blocking his view of his attacker, as he clamped his grip around the bastard’s throat. A knee to his kidney sent pain ricocheting through his entire right side, and his hold loosened. The station blurred in his vision as the SOB landed a solid hook to his jaw.
Movement registered as he straightened, closing in on either side of the cabin. Damn it. The bastard hadn’t come alone. Sliding his index fingers between his lips, he whistled as loud as he could to give his partner warning. Shea. He had to get to Shea. He pushed his hair out of his vision, facing off with the first attacker once again. He couldn’t let them breach the station. Pulling the small blade at his ankle, Vincent swiped high. His opponent threw himself backward, thrown off-balance, and Vincent rushed forward to strike again. Pain exploded through his right shoulder as a bullet tore through muscle and tissue from
behind, and his scream filled the clearing. He clung to the wound as he spun toward the newest threat, switching the blade to his other hand. He threw it end over end as hard as he could.
The knife penetrated the gunman’s coat and brought the shooter to his knees. One down, three to go. Blood trickled beneath his jacket down his hand as he turned back in time for the original attacker to close the space between them. Vincent hiked his injured shoulder back, ignoring the pain shooting through his nerve endings as a guttural growl worked up his throat. No time to check the wound.
Smoke tainted the air a split second before the flames registered. The two operatives had made it into the station. He only hoped the trap he’d set combining gasoline and the lantern’s flame when they’d barged through the front door had distracted them long enough to give Shea a way out. Vincent dodged the swipe of a much larger blade, then another. He blocked the third attempt and turned the knife back around on his attacker before sinking it deep into the man’s side.
A gasp filled his ears as his opponent’s legs failed him, but Vincent kept the man upright. He wasn’t finished with him.
The Line of Duty Page 6
