Chapter Two

      Heather stood at the counter, rubbing her wrists, before taking the pen the policeman offered her. She could still feel the metal rubbing against her skin, even though the handcuffs had been removed. How long before she could forget that terrible night at the dance club, and being locked up for an entire weekend?

      She scrawled her name across the form and handed it to the policeman in exchange for the belongings that had been taken from her when she was arrested. She deliberately checked her credit cards and cash in front of him. If the police didn’t trust her and thought she was so dangerous that they had to lock her up, she wasn’t going to trust them, either.

      Satisfied nothing had been taken, she grabbed her keys. Wait. What good would that do? She plopped the keys back on the counter.

      “Sir, officer, my car—”

      “Is in the parking lot outside the station.”

      Relief had her smiling back at him in spite of her intentions. “Thank you.” Darn it. She nearly bit her tongue. Why was she thanking him for moving her car from the club where she’d been falsely arrested? Bringing back her car was the least the police could do. Then again, it wasn’t this police officer’s fault. It was the DEA’s fault.

      One particular DEA agent’s fault.

      “Don’t thank me,” the officer replied. “Thank Special Agent Nick Morgan. He dropped your car off this morning, right after you arranged bail.” He turned away to help someone else standing beside her.

      Why would Nick bring her car back for her? She certainly didn’t think it was because he cared about her. If he cared about her, he wouldn’t have arrested her. Or at the very least he would have come to see her, maybe even helped her arrange bail. As expected, the bail bondsman had rejected her car as collateral. She’d had to max out almost all of her credit cards to get out of jail. Having already emptied her savings to help Lily when she’d shown up a few weeks ago, Heather now was down to a paltry three hundred dollars in her checking account, and about five hundred dollars of available credit on her last credit card. No, Nick hadn’t dropped her car off because he cared. He’d dropped it off because it was his job.

      She grabbed her keys and hurried toward the exit. When she stepped outside, she was tempted to drop to her knees and kiss the ground. But she’d already suffered enough humiliation this past weekend. She didn’t want to add to it by having someone see her on her hands and knees. Instead, she settled for pausing long enough to take several deep breaths of fresh air, reveling in the pine scent from the nearby trees that was worlds different from the air in the holding cell.

      Going home to a hot shower was at the top of her list of priorities. After that, she’d call the client she was originally supposed to meet Saturday morning and try to convince him, without telling him any details, that she’d had an emergency and still wanted his business. She couldn’t afford to lose a client right now, not when her business was just beginning to make a profit and she had no more credit cards to fall back on to pay her bills.

      Other than groveling to her client, she had no plans to work today, even though it was Monday. She hadn’t taken a day off in nearly a year. And there was no way she could work right now. She needed some time to recover from her ordeal, and she needed to talk some sense into her sister. They also both needed to speak to the pro bono lawyer the court had appointed to defend Heather, and figure out what they were going to do about the drug charges.

      The police had told Heather that Lily had been bailed out by the slimy lawyer who’d spoken to Heather about their “mutual friend.” Heather would talk Lily into firing Greary. Lily would have to somehow pay the man back for the money he’d spent on her and use the pro bono lawyer Heather had been assigned. If Lily was going to survive this fiasco, owing money to a drug dealer’s attorney was not the way to start.

      When a couple stepped out of the police station, Heather moved away from the door and stood off to the side with her cell phone. She called her apartment three times, but Lily didn’t pick up. Sighing, Heather shoved her phone back in her purse and shaded her eyes to look for her car. She spotted her gray Ford sitting in one of the spots right up front.

      She headed to her car, but when she unlocked the door and pitched her purse into the passenger seat, she had the oddest feeling someone was watching her. She paused and looked around.

      There, at the end of the parking lot, was Nick’s massive black four-wheel-drive pickup. It was too far away for her to see details, but she could tell someone was inside. Was Nick watching her? Was he witnessing her humiliation as she left the police station in dirty, wrinkled clothes, her hair a mess, her makeup washed away long ago courtesy of a coarse rag and a filthy bar of soap she’d had to share with five other women? Was he waiting to see how broken she’d be after spending the weekend in jail?

      She straightened her spine and got into her car with as much dignity as possible. It took every ounce of control she had not to slam the car door.

      * * *

      NICK TIGHTENED HIS hands on the steering wheel. The passenger door of his truck opened and his police detective brother climbed inside.

      Rafe plopped down beside him. “Is that Heather, in the gray compact?”

      “That’s her.”

      “You could have come inside and talked to her. That would have been far less creepy than sitting here in the parking lot, like a stalker.”

      “She wouldn’t want to see me.”

      “How do you know that?”

      Nick scrubbed his face and blew out a deep breath. “Because I’m the one who arrested her.”

      “Yeah, there is that. But you also made me cash in my only chip with Judge Thompson to convince him to reduce her bail so she could get out of jail. Does she know you arranged that for her?”

      “No.” He glanced at his brother. “And she never will.”

      Rafe raised his hands. “I’m certainly not telling her, especially since you owe me, big time. You do realize I interrupted Thompson’s weekly golf game?”

      Nick winced. “What’s that going to cost me?”

      “Babysitting. For a month.”

      The dark cloud that had fallen over Nick since the night he’d arrested Heather lifted, if only a little, and he knew he was probably grinning like an idiot. Being an uncle to his oldest sister’s two boys was one of the true pleasures in his life, especially