course not. Never. I’m his sister. Why would I think that?”
Nick eyed her over his food and Shakespeare came to mind.
The lady doth protest too much.
He took another stab at it. “In the trial transcripts, there’s reference to testimony from a court-appointed counselor, but the judge ordered it suppressed. What was that?”
Sims bristled and a flicker of emotion crossed her features. “It was irrelevant. That’s why it was suppressed.”
Nick watched her eyes, trying to put a name on what he saw there. It was the same expression she’d smothered at his cabin when they talked about the car that had tried to run her down. The same look he’d seen in the doorway of her motel room an hour ago.
Fear. She may have tried to disguise it with something bolder, but it was fear, nonetheless. And it was justified. Some son of a bitch had threatened her. Not just in Florida but in Hopewell.
Nick rubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself to take a step back. Dangerous waters, here. Erin Sims was earnestness and fire, but the hint of vulnerability that whispered above it all caught him off guard. She was probably wrong about her brother’s innocence, but she wasn’t lying: She believed everything she said. And no matter how much Nick would have liked to pin the motel room vandalism on her and send her back to Miami, every instinct told him she’d had nothing to do with that. The cold fear in her eyes couldn’t be faked.
Not here. Not on my watch.
A wave of protectiveness washed over him. And another wave of something not nearly so noble. His blood altered its course and against all sane judgment, he tapped her naked ring finger. “What happened to the husband?”
She blinked. “David? He had dreams of a political career. He was hobnobbing with bigwigs, eating caviar…” She pulled a face. “Having a wife out leading an ugly public crusade against a senator was bad for his image.”
“You mean he didn’t stay around to support you and Justin.”
She winced and something tugged in Nick’s chest. A man was supposed to be there when his wife needed him, not leave her to handle things herself. God knows, he’d made that mistake once, too, but it wasn’t because he’d been promoting his career.
Well, yes. It was exactly that.
The taste of tequila rose in his throat. Christ, he was just getting ready to make crazy promises to Erin Sims,and yet he was the last person she should depend on. Just ask Allison.
That thought was the one that cleared his brain. He had enough responsibility. He had Hannah to think about, not to mention a town counting on him. Erin Sims was trouble, and she’d be even more trouble if Nick let his libido enter the picture or let things get personal. He’d send the required information to Florida; he’d find out who vandalized her motel room. He’d confirm for himself what everyone else already knew—that Jack Calloway was innocent—and then he’d send Erin Sims home to Florida and get back to busting town drunks and shoplifters.
They finished their food and Nick tossed down a tip. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to help her slide from the booth.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Somewhere out of the way, where I don’t have to worry about you.”
“You can’t push me aside just so you don’t have to deal with me. This is my brother we’re talking ab—”
“I meant where I don’t have to worry that someone’s going to break into your motel room or try to run you down in a car.”
Her face lost its color. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That.”
CHAPTER
12
O UT OF THE WAY was a private motel outside of Hopewell but still in the county, where Nick knew the manager and would have a deputy passing by every thirty minutes. He checked her in, moved her bags, and while he made a couple calls to touch base with Quentin and the office, she unpacked her computer bag. Laptop, portable printer, and bright yellow paper.
Damn her. This was her MO. The minute
Nick eyed her over his food and Shakespeare came to mind.
The lady doth protest too much.
He took another stab at it. “In the trial transcripts, there’s reference to testimony from a court-appointed counselor, but the judge ordered it suppressed. What was that?”
Sims bristled and a flicker of emotion crossed her features. “It was irrelevant. That’s why it was suppressed.”
Nick watched her eyes, trying to put a name on what he saw there. It was the same expression she’d smothered at his cabin when they talked about the car that had tried to run her down. The same look he’d seen in the doorway of her motel room an hour ago.
Fear. She may have tried to disguise it with something bolder, but it was fear, nonetheless. And it was justified. Some son of a bitch had threatened her. Not just in Florida but in Hopewell.
Nick rubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself to take a step back. Dangerous waters, here. Erin Sims was earnestness and fire, but the hint of vulnerability that whispered above it all caught him off guard. She was probably wrong about her brother’s innocence, but she wasn’t lying: She believed everything she said. And no matter how much Nick would have liked to pin the motel room vandalism on her and send her back to Miami, every instinct told him she’d had nothing to do with that. The cold fear in her eyes couldn’t be faked.
Not here. Not on my watch.
A wave of protectiveness washed over him. And another wave of something not nearly so noble. His blood altered its course and against all sane judgment, he tapped her naked ring finger. “What happened to the husband?”
She blinked. “David? He had dreams of a political career. He was hobnobbing with bigwigs, eating caviar…” She pulled a face. “Having a wife out leading an ugly public crusade against a senator was bad for his image.”
“You mean he didn’t stay around to support you and Justin.”
She winced and something tugged in Nick’s chest. A man was supposed to be there when his wife needed him, not leave her to handle things herself. God knows, he’d made that mistake once, too, but it wasn’t because he’d been promoting his career.
Well, yes. It was exactly that.
The taste of tequila rose in his throat. Christ, he was just getting ready to make crazy promises to Erin Sims,and yet he was the last person she should depend on. Just ask Allison.
That thought was the one that cleared his brain. He had enough responsibility. He had Hannah to think about, not to mention a town counting on him. Erin Sims was trouble, and she’d be even more trouble if Nick let his libido enter the picture or let things get personal. He’d send the required information to Florida; he’d find out who vandalized her motel room. He’d confirm for himself what everyone else already knew—that Jack Calloway was innocent—and then he’d send Erin Sims home to Florida and get back to busting town drunks and shoplifters.
They finished their food and Nick tossed down a tip. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to help her slide from the booth.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Somewhere out of the way, where I don’t have to worry about you.”
“You can’t push me aside just so you don’t have to deal with me. This is my brother we’re talking ab—”
“I meant where I don’t have to worry that someone’s going to break into your motel room or try to run you down in a car.”
Her face lost its color. “Oh, that.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That.”
CHAPTER
12
O UT OF THE WAY was a private motel outside of Hopewell but still in the county, where Nick knew the manager and would have a deputy passing by every thirty minutes. He checked her in, moved her bags, and while he made a couple calls to touch base with Quentin and the office, she unpacked her computer bag. Laptop, portable printer, and bright yellow paper.
Damn her. This was her MO. The minute
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