Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(84)

"Who's this?" a deep, puzzled male voice asked.

"This is Erin," she said. "Who is this?"

There was a long, astonished pause. "Erin Riggs?"

"Is this one of Connor's brothers?" she asked.

"No. This is Nick Ward."

Oh, God, no. Nick, one of her dad's colleagues from the Cave. Nick, the tall, black-haired guy with melting dark eyes and dimples. Answering the phone had been a disaster. "Um, hi, Nick. How are you?"

"Where are you, Erin?" There was an edge to Nick's voice.

"I'm at home," she told him. "In my apartment."

"Where's Connor? What are you doing answering his phone?"

"He ran down to the store on the corner to get some breakfast stuff." She was blushing like a tomato, even though no one could see her. "I thought this call might be from one of his brothers, so I…"

"Huh." He was ominously silent. "So, what's up, then? Are you two together?"

Images of their intense lovemaking over the past thirty-six hours swirled through her head. "I guess so," she said.

She hated the quaver in her voice. It proved she was still afraid, beneath all the giddy euphoria.

Nick cleared his throat. "Hey, Erin. I don't want to stick my nose in, but Connor… he's had a hard time of it in the past year or so, what with everything that's happened—"

"I know," she said.

"Uh, he's got one bitch of a score to settle with your dad. Oh, hell. I don't know what to say. You're a nice kid. Try to keep a little distance, OK? I don't want to see you get hurt."

Erin swallowed hard. "I'm not a kid anymore, Nick."

The key rattled in the lock, and the door swung open. Connor saw the phone in her hand, and froze in place.

"Connor's back," she said tonelessly. She walked over to Connor and held out the phone to him. "It's Nick."

He let the groceries drop to the floor and took it. Erin closed the door and carried the bags to the table.

She wished the apartment had another room to escape into.



The pinched look on Erin's face alarmed him. Connor lifted his phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

"What the f*ck are you doing with Erin Riggs?" Nick snarled.

Connor waited several beats before he let himself respond. "We'll have this conversation another time," he said. "In person, so I can express myself fully. Until then, it's none of your goddamn business."

"Is this some kinky revenge on Ed? Seduce his baby princess, and thumb your nose at him? Try and stop me from behind bars, *, nyah nyah nyah? She's just a kid!"

"She's almost twenty-seven. Have you got anything relevant to tell me, Nick? Because otherwise, this conversation is over."

"I bet you told yourself she needed protection 'round the clock. What a great opportunity. And now you're nailing her, you self-serving *. That kind of protection she don't need."

"Fuck off, Nick. I'm hanging up now."

"Wait a second. I'm going to pass this info on, not to help you, and not as a favor, but just to make you feel like the opportunistic prick that you are. We got word from Interpol. One of the guys that broke out with Novak got nabbed in Marseilles yesterday. Martin Olivier. He confessed that Novak and Luksch were both in France, but he was found dead in his cell before he had a chance to say exactly where. Poison of some kind, they think, pending the autopsy. So it looks like the only person that Erin Riggs needs protection from is you."

Connor pushed his anger aside. His brain was too busy shifting into net-and-fish mode, taking in information, comparing, associating.

"It's a decoy," he said. "Can't you feel it? He's not in France. It's all theater. He's got business to take care of here."

"I might have known you wouldn't be interested in any information that doesn't fit your fantasy, you—"

Connor flipped the phone shut.

Erin was putting on the teakettle. She was pretending nothing had happened. The room was dreadfully silent, apart from the small clinking and rustling sounds she made in the kitchen. She grabbed a bowl and fork and opened the carton of eggs.

"I'll cook breakfast," he offered. "I'm good at it."

The smile she tossed over her shoulder was unconvincing.

Connor slid his arms around her waist, pulling her off balance so that she had to fell back against him. He removed the fork from one small, chilly hand, the egg from the other, and placed them in the bowl.

He covered her hands with both of his, warming them. He pressed his face into the damp satin of her hair. "It looks weird, from the outside," he said. "You and me, together. At least to Nick. Because of all the bad things that have come down."

She nodded.

"But from the inside, from where we're standing, it makes perfect sense," he said, with quiet force. "And it's beautiful."

He waited for a response, but she was mute. He lifted her hair, exposing the delicate curve of her cheek. He kissed it. So soft.

The thought rose up from the depths of his mind, from that part of him with which there was no arguing, no negotiating.

Nobody, but nobody was taking this from him. Just let them try.