The tips of her eyelashes sparkled with unshed tears, and his heartbeat tripped. Eyes like that were the reason cops quit hanging out with the guys after work and went straight home instead. They were the reason the pictures on their phones changed from deer camps to hospital nurseries. Eyes like that were dangerous.
“I’ll be fine.” She touched the bandage at her temple, her fingers trembling. “Catch him.”
His senses vibrating on high alert, Liam sprinted the distance and kicked open the exit door to an empty parking lot on the far side of the building.
Sheeting rain hindered visibility. Forcing his fisted hands to relax, he scanned the perimeter. No cars. No people. Nothing.
Traffic rumbled past on the highway to his left. A vehicle needed thirty seconds to melt into oblivion. At least three minutes had passed since he’d first heard the commotion.
Above his head, a shiny new security camera perched beneath the eaves. A wide grin spread across his face. Nothing like modern technology to make the job a little easier.
He rang the station for backup before returning inside.
The break room was empty, and he had a brief moment of panic before discovering Emma hovering outside her hospital room. Organized chaos reigned as orderlies along with Dr. Javadi wrestled Tim onto a gurney. The redheaded nurse, her hands encased in blue surgical gloves, handed Liam a plastic bag containing the empty paper cup.
“I didn’t let anyone touch this,” she said with a mournful glance at the prone security guard. “Like you asked.”
He’d seen the nurse and the guard speaking earlier and sensed their relationship was more than casual.
Liam accepted the bag. “The break room is off-limits until further notice. It’ll be taped.”
“I’ll let the staff know.”
Dr. Javadi glanced up. “He should be all right. He’s got a strong pulse and his airway is clear. Judging by the symptoms, I’m guessing he ingested an overdose of a prescription sleeping pill. I’ll know more when the tox screens come back.”
Liam had seen more than his fair share of overdoses. He didn’t envy the guard the stomach pumping he was about to receive. “Keep me informed of his condition.”
As the group rushed off, Liam touched Emma’s elbow. “We should have someone check you out too.”
“It’s all right. I’m fine. Tim needs the help more.” She pressed a fist to her mouth. “I thought he dozed off. I just left him there. I walked right past him.”
“That’s nothing. I nudged him with my foot and called him sunshine.”
Her full lips formed a perfect O before she mumbled, “Yikes.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Not exactly his finest hour. At least Tim was young and healthy. Liam had no doubt he’d make a full recovery. “We can both apologize in person.”
Her face was pale and devoid of makeup, making her appear younger than her age. She wore jeans with a wispy navy cardigan crossed double over her stomach, her white-knuckled fingers clutching the edges together.
He gently maneuvered her to a chair beside the bed. “Sit. Can I get you a drink of water?”
He’d give her a few minutes to collect herself—but not too long. He needed her observations of the attack while the memories were fresh. Keeping his rage at bay was secondary. He’d been filled with a nearly uncontrollable fury since discovering her empty room. Someone had done this on his watch. On his turf.
“I’m thirsty,” she said. “But is it safe to drink anything?”
“Brought this from home.” He retrieved a bottle of water from his pocket and twisted the cap. “About as safe as it gets.”
She gratefully accepted the offering and wrapped her hands around the plastic.
“Are you certain you’re not hurt?” he asked gently. “Adrenaline often masks injuries.”
The first thing he’d felt after being shot was relief instead of pain. Relief that he was still alive. He’d known the bullet was coming the minute Swerve confronted him. Jenny’s shouted accusations of his betrayal, and his subsequent denial that he was a cop, had only delayed the inevitable.
Swerve had been too distraught over killing Jenny to realize his intended target had survived. Sirens had followed. Maybe Swerve had called the ambulance in the hopes of saving Jenny, or maybe someone else had. Liam supposed it didn’t mattered.
Emma swiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “He didn’t hurt me. He caught me by surprise, that was all.”
A violent shudder traveled the length of her body, and a wave of helpless frustration crashed over him. Maintaining a healthy distance with crime victims was part of the job. The only way to stay sane. Bad things happened to good people all the time. Jenny’s death had shaken him, but he’d done what he’d always done—he’d boxed his emotions and tucked them away. He’d left the ultimate judgment to God. Emma’s situation was dredging up feelings he thought he’d buried.
She needed a protector, and he’d already failed her once. Any distraction risked dangerous consequences for them both.
Her face averted, Emma tucked her dark hair behind one ear, exposing the purple bruising on her temple from the car accident.
A wave of dizziness hit him hard, sweeping him into the past again. Swerve had backhanded Jenny the day before the shooting, and Liam had defended her. The response was instinctive. And fatal. His actions had triggered Swerve’s suspicions, bringing into focus other incidents that might have escaped scrutiny while highlighting Liam’s lengthy absence from the neighborhood after grade school. That was the risk of undercover work. There was never a way to escape inside a role completely. He’d tried to protect Jenny, and he’d gotten her killed instead.
With an effort born from years of practice, he shoved his personal feelings down. He knew better than anyone what happened when professional duties mixed with high emotions.
Nothing good.
He dragged a chair around to face Emma and sat. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and intertwined his fingers. “I need to know exactly what happened. Tell me everything you remember. Every detail, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem.”
She rested her hand over his, as though clinging to a lifeline. Despite his rigorous self-talk, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
“Try and relax,” he said. “Close your eyes if you need to. Tell me everything you remember.
Her throat worked. She appeared lost in the memory of what had just happened, and he doubted she even realized she was touching him.
She took another deep, shuddering breath. “I’m ready.”
Gazing into the distance, she related the story with clinical precision to detail. She was a writer, he’d done his homework over the weekend, and her skills showed in her meticulous observations.
He’d spent the previous day researching her background. She was an investigative journalist who’d written a couple of novels. A sense of familiarity had nagged him, but he’d yet to discover why. Maybe she seemed familiar because she wrote about famous serial killers. According to her website, one of her books had been optioned for a movie.
The bottle of water in her hand crackled in her tight grip. “When I heard your footsteps, I thought he’d come back.”
Liam jutted his sore chin. “You’ve got a mean right hook.”
As though noticing her hand clutching his for the first time, she snatched her arm away. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him catch me by surprise again. I don’t know what happened.”
“You