ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (69 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
woke up to much
more favorable circumstances. My eyes fluttered open and filled with visions of
a room full of flowers. Every kind and color were strewn about, bright bursts
of warmth and romance in an otherwise dismal space. The smell of impeccable floral
arrangements filled my nostrils as I found myself nearly blinded by light
streaming in through the unfettered windows, the curtains drawn to reveal the
magnitude of the beauty around me.

It should have been special. It should have made me
happy.

Instead,
the pretty flowers put a cold coil of dread in my
stomach.

Nathan
was sitting on the end of the couch, a triumphant smile on his face as he
watched my eyes open and focus on the innumerable vases and bouquets around me.
“I couldn’t guess your favorite,” he told me, “but after the last few nights, I
figured you might need a little pick-me-up to remind you that world’s not such
a bad place, after all.”

I stared at him, my mouth dry. “Where’s the rookie?”

“Gone.
The captain moved him back down the hall early this morning. I thought you’d be
happy,” he said, his head tilting to the side as he studied my obvious
displeasure.

“Nathan…
you didn’t charge this to the card the department gave you, right? I mean…
there’s no way it’s loaded up with enough money for this…”

He
frowned at me like I was insane. “Of course not!” he laughed. “I used my
personal one. I’d never put your job in jeopardy like that.”

I sat
up, clutching the blankets to my chest and the semi-sheer cami covering it.
“Your
personal
card? You aren’t supposed to
have
a personal card!
You just put
yourself
in jeopardy, Nathan, and right now, my job
is
you! Jesus fucking Christ, have you lost your damn mind?”

“It’s a
card for a subsidiary business. There’s almost no chance anyone could track the
purchase back to me…” His face fell as he watched me. His lips parted as if
there was something more he wanted to say, but I ran him over before he could
get the words out.

“Did you have them delivered? Please tell me you did.”

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t just carry them by myself…”

“You ordered online? Over the phone?”

“No. I
wanted to see what they had. I took a drive down there myself.”

I
groaned and covered my face with my hands. He couldn’t possibly have done
something so stupid!

“What’s
the big deal? It’s not like the Paddies are hanging around at flower shops…”
Nathan said.

“Let me
guess: you went to the closest one, right?
Leslie-Anne Floral Designs
?”
He nodded, and I snorted in disgust. “And what’s her shop across the street
from?
McFadden’s
-fucking-
Pub
! Or didn’t you notice when you were
ignoring everything the Captain tried to drill into your skull before we came
to the Peachtree Overlook to spend seven miserable days together?”

Nathan
recoiled as if I’d physically struck him. I damn sure felt like it, but it
almost looked as if what I’d said had stung him worse than any slap ever could.
What can I say? I’m not normally a morning person.

“Sandra,
I just… I just wanted to be good to you. I wanted to do something nice—”

“Then
you should have listened!” I raged. “You shouldn’t have put both our lives in
jeopardy, and by extension, my fucking job!” This was a disaster. All my panic,
my self-doubt, and the pent-up frustration I’d been carrying around with me
exploded, showering Nathan with the hot ash of my rage. “You think the men out
there didn’t notice two thousand dollars’ worth of flowers being carted up
here? The whole damn neighborhood probably watched it happen! What do you think
the Captain is going to say about this?” I shook my head, flinging off the
blanket and pulling a shirt out of my duffel bag. “Just when I’d thought you’d
started to change…”

“I
don’t get how buying you gifts is a bad thing,” Nathan said, standing up and
following me. “Okay, so I took a risk. But I wasn’t followed. I made sure of
it. I…”

“You
don’t get to hear me say ‘no,’ and then do it anyway,” I snarled, whirling on
him so fast our noses almost collided. “That’s not being
nice
, Nathan.
That’s being a fucking entitled asshole who thinks they know best, even when he
oh-so-clearly doesn’t. That’s deciding that what
you
want to do matters
a hell of a lot more than what others want. That’s the spoiled rich kid in you
coming out to play, and I don’t think it’s
fucking cute
.
”

“Sandra—”

“No!
Absolutely not!” I turned back to my bag and stuffed my blanket into it. I
didn’t give a shit that I was still in my pajama bottoms, and I didn’t care
that there was a big part of me that just wanted to jump into bed with this man
and fuck the life right out of him. I was done. I couldn’t do this. Staying
here could cost me everything I’d worked so hard to achieve, and Nathaniel Hale
wasn’t worth it.

I stepped out into the hall. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey!”

I
waited to see who opened their doors. Nathan once again followed me, staring at
me from the threshold, his face losing all color as he realized what I was
doing.

“Sandra, please… Please don’t go.”

I
looked at him over my shoulder. “I can’t be here with you. I could
never
be with someone like you. And I won’t waste my time on an man who puts my life
in danger on a fucking whim. I should have never…”

I
looked away as one of the doors down the hall opened. Despite his casual
attire, I recognized the officer behind it and strode up to him so anyone else
listening wouldn’t be able to hear.

“The
witness has been compromised. I’m heading back to the station for reassignment.
He’ll need to be moved as soon as possible.” Before the officer could argue, I
began to walk away from him. “Oh,” I threw over my shoulder, “and he’s got a
personal credit card still on him. You might want to confiscate that before he
puts anyone else’s life in danger.”

I
didn’t even look at Nathan as I took the stairs two at a time to the shitty
Honda waiting for me in the parking lot. I didn’t bother to see if he was still
standing there where I’d left him as I backed out of the space and shifted into
drive. I didn’t glance in my rearview mirror to see if he still looked as
broken as he had when I first walked out.

Those
were things I didn’t want to see, because I was sure that if I did, I wouldn’t
be able to do what needed to be done.

Nathaniel
Hale was bad news. I’d let my guard down for a man who didn’t give two shits
about anyone but himself. I’d let his sweet nothings and handsome face cloud my
judgment again and again. I’d let him convince me that I could be
better
with him around. I’d lost sight
of myself, and for a cop, that was just as dangerous as letting a perp get the
drop on you.

Hell, maybe it was even
more
dangerous.

I had
to protect myself, and serving Nathan wasn’t going to let me do that. It was
time to put some distance between us. I let him have his way with me once, and
I couldn’t believe I’d almost made the same mistake twice…

CHAPTER EIGHT

It
had been days
since I’d last seen Nathan Hale in person, and yet I couldn’t stop seeing him
in my dreams.

My
guilt-inspired nightmares no longer just involved my dead mother and sister.
Now I saw Nathan with them too, the back of his head missing, brain exposed
from a gunshot wound I might have prevented if I’d just stuck around.

“Are
you happy?” he would ask me every time I closed my eyes for more than a few
minutes. “Did you save yourself, detective?”

I’m the
only one I actually can save,
I
thought as I slipped into the driver’s seat of my police cruiser. I normally
drove a less obvious vehicle, but today, I was acting as part of the escort
crew moving Nathan to his final destination before the trial began. It was a
hotel downtown right near the courthouse with much nicer accommodations than
the Peachtree Overlook had to offer, and probably better than the next safe
house they’d moved him to after I’d left. At least he’d get one night in a
comfortable bed out of this.

“Hey,
Marco,” I called out through my open door, referring to the officer coming
around the side of the building. My eyes almost immediately fell to his hand as
he tried to stuff a white envelope into his pocket. I knew exactly what that
was. Every cop did. There was a team of reporters just around the corner, and
they would pay cash for the right kind of information for their next big story.
A few bills in a plain white and everybody ate just a little better at night.

He
stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me with the faintest flicker of fear.
I frowned. “Marco—you’ve been talking to the press? We’re about to move a
witness. What the hell did you tell them? If you put this move in jeopardy, I
swear…”

The
flicker died out. “Relax. I… uh…” he said, then held his finger to his lips. “I
just spilled a little sugar for the nine o’clock news, that’s all. It was
nothing serious though. Nothing about the witness... I swear.”

I
nodded and watched as he walked back into the station through the revolving
door. I knew a lot of cops were hard-up for cash these days, and I tried not to
judge, though I thought talking to the press usually did more harm than good.
There was a part of me that wondered what little police secret he’d just sold,
but I supposed I could just wait a few days to see it on the front page.
Journalists no longer cared about integrity—they were paid to sell headlines. I
was sure we’d hear all about it in the next department meeting, and I couldn’t
say what annoyed me more: the fact that Marco had sold us out, or knowing that
I’d have to hear the Captain bitch about it.

But why
did I care? Even if Marco told the press about Nathaniel Hale, maybe he
deserved it. Nathan’s reputation was no longer any of my business. I wouldn’t
out him for the secret he’d told me, as I could only imagine how that would
detract from the prosecution’s case, but I also wouldn’t worry about whether or
not he walked out of that courtroom looking like a saint. Everybody wanted the scoop
on who was testifying against Mr. Wallace, and if that meant Marco could afford
a few new pairs of shoes for his daughter, I wasn’t going to get in the way.

Still,
I couldn’t help but shift uneasily as I thought about the witness transfer that
was taking place today. It wasn’t just the bulky Kevlar vest making me
uncomfortable. There’d be plenty of cops around to protect Nathan, but what if
it wasn’t enough? What if he got hurt and couldn’t testify? What if he got hurt
period
? Wallace wasn’t known for being kind to witnesses. I was angry
with Nathan, sure, and even more angry at myself for thinking that billionaire
asshole could ever change his stripes, but I didn’t want anything bad to happen
to him, either.

I
convinced myself that was all it was—a healthy, professional obligation to an
innocent—as I turned the key and listened as the cruiser stuttered to life. I
put on my shades to block out the glare of the sun as another officer hurried
out of the station’s doors.

This
was a guy I didn’t recognize. Cutbacks meant forced retirement for some of the
old guard, but this guy didn’t look like a rookie. Something about him—maybe
the way he walked, or the scar on his face—set off warning bells. I was about
to get out of the car when I saw him shake hands with Officer Kimball, a man I
did
know pretty well. From the expression on Kimball’s face, there was nothing to
worry about.

You’re
being paranoid,
I told myself, letting
out a breath to get rid of the jitters coursing through me.
The department’s
done everything right. You’ve made some mistakes, but getting out of there was
the right move. You probably saved Nathan’s life, and you definitely saved your
career.

Somehow,
that didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t quell the part inside me that wanted to
be
part
of his life, not just the woman who’d made it possible for him
to have a shot at living it.

How
could I ever be with a man so out of touch with reality?
I thought to myself. There was no way I commit myself
to someone who put his selfish needs above everyone else’s.

Maybe
you should’ve given him more than seventy-two hours to change his entire
personality.
I took a moment to try
and silence the little voice in my head as I shut my door and put my cruiser in
reverse.
Maybe you weren’t being entirely fair.

That
wasn’t an issue I could contend with today. That was something that could be
dealt with later after the transfer was complete. Until then, I needed to focus
on keeping Nathan alive and putting Peter Wallace’s sorry ass away for good,
and then maybe finding the guy who’d waltzed into Nathan’s mansion with a gas
can and four groupies ready to kill me to get their way.

“Sounds
like a plan,” I muttered out loud, blasting my A/C as I followed the other
cruisers onto the highway.

There
was no rush today. We were making good time, and Nathan was secure with two
officers at the safe house. In fact, we’d been ordered to keep our lights and
sirens off so as not to announce the fact that we were picking up the most
valuable witness this trial had to offer. No need to broadcast our intent to
any unsavory characters that might be waiting for the opportune moment to
strike.

What
happened next went against all of that wisdom. Kimball’s cruiser turned on his
lights, broke left into the emergency lane, and took off ahead of us. I felt
the hairs on my nape stand up.

Something isn’t right.

I
picked up my radio. “Kimball,” I said, tuning into his frequency. “What’s up,
man? I thought we were coasting, K.”

A voice
crackled through the speaker. It was Kimball, but he didn’t sound like himself.
“Change of plans. Captain Pierce’s orders.”

I
frowned, waiting on him to end transmission. “K” was what we said to let the
other officer know we were done speaking. It was simple protocol, and protocol
was something Kimball always followed without question. As the seconds passed
in silence, I felt a twinge of fear rising inside me.

“Really?
I didn’t hear anything about that, K,” I said into the CB.

“It’s
no big deal,” Kimball assured me over the crackling radio. “Captain Pierce’s
orders. They want the transfer to happen now.”

No “K.”
No “over.”

“Ten-four,
K.”

I still
couldn’t shake the feeling like something didn’t quite add up, though, and as
minutes passed, that sense of impending doom rose up my spine, breathing on the
back of my neck like some dark and lethal menace until I couldn’t take it
anymore. Call it a detective’s intuition, call it my own personal bullshit
detector, but I had to be sure.

I pressed
the accelerator down, sweeping into the emergency lane. Kimball was nowhere in
sight as I dialed the Captain’s direct line on my cell. If something was going
on I couldn’t risk sending a message out over the radio.

“Captain Pierce.”

“Captain,
it’s Detective Williams,” I said, carefully hugging the side of the highway. “I
just talked with Officer Kimball. They took off ahead of us with the lights and
sirens on. Said they were headed up to the safe house early on your orders.” I
paused, trying to think of some excuse for prying. “…should I help?”

The
captain was quiet for a moment. In that silence, I read his thoughts loud and
clear, but my stomach still lurched when he finally voiced them. “I didn’t send
them, Detective, and I didn’t assign any rookies to escort Mr. Hale to the
hotel.”

My
blood ran cold. I hung up immediately and got back on my radio. “All units, we
have a possible breach of security at the safe house. I repeat, a possible
breach of security at the safe house.” I flipped on my lights and sirens and
hit the gas as hard as I could. “Officer Kimball may have been compromised.
He’s got a five-minute head start. Full speed ahead, K.”

But
just as the other cars lit up around me, I saw Kimball’s cruiser coming down
the opposite side of the highway, lights off but doing at least ninety. There
were bullet holes along the side and one of the taillights was shot out.

“Shit!”
I snarled, turning the wheel hard into the grassy median and spraying dirt and
grass all over the road.

The
cruiser bounced over the ditch and scraped hard on the incline. The back end
tried to fishtail, but I got everything back under control as I forced the old
tired crown vic up over the shoulder and onto the road. Her engine screamed as
I put my weight on the gas, shifting gears until I was hitting a cool
ninety-five miles an hour, dodging between the four lanes of traffic.

“Car
nineteen in pursuit,” I reported over my radio, shifting again as the single
taillight of Kimball’s car came into view. “Got ‘em in my sights.” I squinted
past the sun glaring off the tinted back window. “Witness is in the car. I
repeat, they have the witness, K.”

“Ten-four,
car nineteen,” dispatch replied in that even tone of voice they all had down to
a science. “Can you see his condition, K?”

“Negative,
but he’s alive. K.”

I could
see Nathan moving in the back seat, but I had no idea why. They could’ve just
killed him at the safe house. My heart thudded so hard I was sure it would
crack my ribs. “I need backup, K.”

“Sending units. What’s your position, K?”

“Headed
southbound. Just passed mile marker one-twelve approaching the mid-town exit.
K.”

Please
don’t turn, please don’t turn,
I
prayed. If they got off there, it’d put us in the traffic-heavy streets filled
with civilians, and dispatch would order me to back off.

But
they probably knew that, which was exactly why they swerved at the last second
and barreled straight down the exit ramp into the warehouse district.

Motherfuckers!

I cut
off at least three other cars crossing lanes to follow and narrowly missed
clipping the exit sign as I took the same path. Kimball’s cruiser was nosing
past the truck stopped at the light, and I took the shoulder to get behind him,
hoping to cut him off before he blew the intersection.

“Suspects
took the mid-town exit. Car nineteen still in pursuit, K.”

“Halt
pursuit, car nineteen,” dispatch predictably ordered. “Civilian concentration
is too high, K.”

I shook
my head, hot tears burning the corners of my eyes. Goddammit, they weren’t
going to walk away from this. Not again.

Peter
Wallace had killed enough people. I wasn’t going to let him add Nathan to that
list.

“Negative,
dispatch. Car nineteen still in pursuit. We’re eastbound on Fontaine Boulevard.
Requesting backup, K.”

The
dispatcher sounded a little rattled now, as though they weren’t sure how to
respond to resistance. “Car nineteen, halt pursuit—”

“Negative,” I repeated. “Send backup, K.”

And
then, lowering the volume down to a dull chatter, I watched as Kimball’s
cruiser surged into the intersection and followed suit.

It was
harder for both our cars to maneuver here. Sure, they’d slowed me down, but
they weren’t faring much better. Fontaine was busy this time of day, and
traffic tended to bottleneck up ahead at the Carthage intersection. The only
advantage either of us had was that we were in police cruisers, and the lights
and sirens were enough to convince most cars to move out of the way.