Chapter 17

Nick was dangerously close to losing his shit. "This is not a good idea."

Trisha rose from where she was seated on Steve's desk. "I, personally, do not care what you think, Nick." She lifted an angered hand toward Steve before he could retort, and glared at Wayne for him to agree with her decision.

The old man, much to Nick's disapproval, nodded with a frown. "All right, apple. But Nick will be watching. You be careful."

His blood pressure neared stroke level. "Sheriff, we cannot put an assault victim in the cage with the accused. It's not protocol."

"Protocol is whatever I say it is, son. And Trisha is no victim, trust me."

Steve hooted. "Ain't that the truth."

"Now you can take me to see him." Trisha raised her brows as if begging him to challenge.

Nick didn't like it. He had sat in his car all night watching her house to make sure the jackass didn't come back to hurt her again. He'd stood in her bedroom and waited for those brown eyes to clear after Mike had knocked her unconscious, wincing himself for the bruised cheek. And now the woman wanted to go in the ring with him.

Fuck that. If the dick so much as blinked at her wrong Nick would gladly lay him out. "Fine, let's go."

Trailing him through the back room and down the hallway, Trisha carried the bags she'd collected from Mike's room. After silently unlocking the cell with a scowl, Nick swung the door open.

"I'm watching."

"You do that." She stepped over the threshold.

Mike Peltzer was hunched over, his demeanor screaming defeat, with remnants of alcohol lingering. His eyes were bloodshot and his clothes could walk themselves out of the cell. Poor bastard. Hangovers were a bitch. He deserved far worse.

Trisha set the bags down outside of his cell. "I was packing your things earlier, Mike, and found no pictures or personal items."

His head whipped up. "What do you care, bitch?"

Nick moved to the doorway with every intention of hauling her away when she shook her head. Gritting his teeth, he backed up.

"You made a disaster of my home. You lost the respect of the men. You punched a woman for no reason other than you could. So this bitch cares."

Mike expelled a harsh sigh and crossed his arms.

"Do you have any family, Mike?"

He didn't spare her a glance. "No."

She tilted her head to the side and weariness clouded her eyes. Mesmerized by her tenacity and strength, and wondering what she was up to, Nick continued to watch the interaction, curious where she was going with this line of questioning.

"That's a shame." Something close to understanding dawned in her eyes. "You have a drinking problem and need help."

When Mike's gaze got that dangerous, irrational edge to them again, Nick could see she was prepared for it this time.

"You stay in your seat and listen to me." She pointed to the bags. "These are your things. You have two choices, Mike. You can take these effects, move on, continue to be a drunken menace and ruin your life. Or, you can get help."

She took an unfaltering step toward him.

Nick's hand tensed on the bars.

"Look at my face," she ordered.

Shockingly, Mike did as she asked.

"I took you in, saw something in you when I hired you. Go get it back again." She stepped closer until she was right in front of him, nose to nose. "You see this bruise? Don't ever do it again." She stalked away from the cell, heading back to the administrative area. Over her shoulder, she barked, "Drop the charges."

Nick's jaw unhinged. Swiftly, he closed the cell and stalked after her.

"Trisha, wait!" Nick chased her through the station house.

"I have work to do, Nick. Let's go." Pushing through the door into the parking lot, she marched toward the car without bothering to turn around. She'd had enough for one day.

Before she could lift the handle and climb in the passenger seat, he was there with a hand on her arm. He spun her around. "What do you mean, drop the charges?" His eyes were molten-a fierce Irish storm.

"I would think that was obvious."

Those heated eyes dilated to holy crap as he took a step closer, pinning her to the car. Her blood rushed through her veins at an alarming rate. He was so sexy when pissed off. His gaze darted from her eyes to her lips and back again. Now they were getting somewhere. She was getting tired of the hot and cold routine from him.

"Why drop the charges?" That he spoke through clenched teeth only turned her on more.

"Mike won't hurt me again. He has the chance to make a solid choice now. Everyone deserves that. Brad won't let him get within ten feet of me anyway."

Dropping her arm, he instead placed both palms on either side of her against the car door and leaned in. "That brings me to another point. When I'm dating a woman, she doesn't date anyone else. Maybe you care to explain why you are involved with both Brad and myself."

Oh no, he didn't. "I don't need to explain anything. We had one meal together. You didn't even want to be there. That's it. There is no relationship."

Pushing away from the car, she attempted to edge around him, but was hauled solidly against the door again. He glared at her, paused with his mouth open as if trying to form words. Tension radiated off him, pulsing the air around them. She became acutely aware of his solid thighs pinning hers, the hard planes of his chest brushing her nipples, and his thick black lashes framing his eyes. Dark stubble shadowed his wide jaw, feeding into his bad boy image.

Holy hotness. She couldn't breathe.

He cursed under his breath. Then he crushed that irritating mouth of his to hers.

At first the kiss was angry and stiff, releasing pent up wrath with vigor. But then it turned on her, forcing her to yield to his control. Gentle pressure, soft sentiment. The combination was dizzying. His hands came off the car to cup her face as he pressed them both into the door with his body.

Oh, his body. Solid and coiled tight, he enveloped her. His mouth, clever and taunting, took what it wanted. Anger gone, her head spun when she gripped his shirt and surrendered, matching his beat and torrent. He deepened the kiss when she relented, all thought spent now but the stroke of his tongue. He groaned, the vibration shoving from his chest to hers.

She had just caught the lingering taste of mint when he rapidly backed away and glowered at her. Chest heaving, his green eyes seemed confused. Hell, she was confused.

After several seconds of staring at her like he'd never seen her before, like he wanted to run away or kiss her again at the same time, he clenched his fists.

"We're involved." He turned, rounding the car for the driver's side. "And don't say that was nothing."