Page 20 of Lay Down the Law

He raised his eyes to hers. “You weren’t the only one who overreacted today.”

“Is that your idea of an apology?”

“Save it, McNeal. I may have overreacted, but you were out of line. I won’t tolerate it.” Hearing movement behind him, Nick turned to see Mrs. Newman, the town gossip, pause outside the adjacent apartment with a bag of groceries in her arms. She gazed at him for a moment, then peered into Erin’s apartment with unconcealed curiosity. Terrific, he thought, this ought to get the tongues wagging.

Erin noticed and moved aside. “Do you want to come in?”

“I can’t stay.” He stepped into her apartment, realizing belatedly it would have been smarter for him to have handled the situation over the phone.

Turning away, Erin walked into the living room. Nick followed, struggling not to feel awkward—failing miserably—and trying in vain not to notice the curve of her backside beneath that robe.

The apartment was small, with high windows and gauzy curtains that ushered in ribbons of yellow sunlight. The furniture was outdated, but functional. Nothing frilly for Erin McNeal. No photographs or mementos. It didn’t surprise him she wasn’t neat. She’d barely unpacked, and already there was a hint of feminine clutter. A towel tossed haphazardly over a box. Her boots lay next to the sofa, where she’d kicked them off. He spotted her holster on the coffee table. Then his gaze stopped on the scrap of lace draped over the sofa arm. Her bra, Nick realized. The same one he’d noticed through her blouse the first time he’d seen her. No, he thought, coming here hadn’t been a good idea at all.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He tore his gaze from the bra. For crying out loud, what was the matter with him? He wasn’t some sex-starved teenager who went brain dead over a woman’s bra. Especially when that particular woman was off-limits for too many reasons to count—let alone that she worked for him.

“No.” He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to accommodate the rush of blood to his groin. “Look, Erin, it’s not unusual for a cop to lose his or her confidence after they’ve been involved in a shooting.”

“I haven’t lost my confidence.”

“You’re trying too hard. You’re trying to get something back that takes time. You’re rushing it, and you’re going to end up getting hurt. I don’t want that to happen.”

She flushed.

“I still need a deputy,” he said. “The last thing you need is another termination on your record. What do you say we give this another shot?”

“If you’re asking me to stay, the answer is yes.”

Nick grimaced, not sure if that was what he’d wanted to hear. But he could live with it. “I’m going to level with you, McNeal. I’ve got my doubts about whether or not you’re ready to come back to the field. I’m going to extend your probationary period—”

“I’m ready.”

“You went against my direct orders this morning. You took a stupid risk that could have turned out much worse. I won’t tolerate recklessness of any kind from you or any of my other deputies. Are you clear on that?”

She gazed levelly at him. “Those two men were armed and dangerous. I wasn’t about to let them get away.”

“One of those suspects came within an inch of gaining control of your weapon. You could have turned a robbery into a hostage situation, or worse.”

“I know you’re having a hard time believing this,” she said, “but I happen to be a professional. I’m good at—”

“So I’ve heard. That’s not what’s in question here.”

“But my judgment is?”

“Knowing what I do about you personally, and your past, I’d be a fool not to question your judgment after today.”

“I see.” Her chin went up, and Nick knew he’d scored a direct hit. “You’re convinced I’m skewed because of the shooting.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“You’ve already decided, so why does it matter what I think?”

“Look, Erin, cops react to shootings in different ways. Some retreat. Some quit. Some turn to alcohol. Look at the divorce rate. The suicide rate, for God’s sake. You don’t have to make up for something you did or didn’t do in that warehouse.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Now you’re a shrink.”

“I’m the chief of police—and your superior. I have a right to know where your head is. My life—or my deputies’ lives—depends on that.”