Page 64 of Nicole's Shelter

He shook his head.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t even have Clifton’s name without you. I wouldn’t have this new hope that this nightmare might really be over soon without your—”

“Interference?”

“Dedication.” He was one of the good guys who’d seen a woman in trouble and decided to stick around rather than walk away.

“I hope you’re not lumping last night into that definition,” he grumbled.

Her face went hot and she raised the cold plastic soda bottle to her cheek. Last night proved dedication of a completely different variety. “I didn’t mean to force that, umm…” her voice trailed off at his thunderous glare.

“What I mean is—” That look tripped her up, made it hard to know quite what she meant or how to find the right words to explain it. She took a long drink of the soda, hoping the carbonation would clear a path through her suddenly parched throat. “I’m attracted to you, obviously. And it, umm, seemed mutual, but I don’t expect anything,” she finished in a rush.

“Maybe you should.”

What did that mean? And why did thinking about Rick and expectations in the same sentence cause an unprecedented flutter low in her belly? She’d heard girls talk about this feeling, but it had never happened to her.

Because you always kept your distance. Until now.

She couldn’t really let herself expect anything from Rick. Could she? The idea took root in her heart before she could stop it. Meeting him was a chance encounter. He helped her because his company was helping Allie. The sex, well that had been an amazing culmination of consenting adults reacting to mutual attraction and surviving a deadly attack.

She slid a glance his way, noting the tension in his shoulders, the tic in his jaw, and his intense focus on the road in front of them.

In his line of work he must have faced countless threats to his life. He’d been married, so he couldn’t have turned to mindless sex to get over all of them, could he?

“Let’s just get back on point,” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

In her?

“Right.” Her giddy confidence long gone, she organized her thoughts on Clifton, drawing connections between past and present behavior. “You don’t think he’ll manage to hurt Bart, do you? Not even personally?” She worried for Kyle.

“Not a chance. Bart knows all the major players in the local game and Clifton’s not one of them. I don’t care what title or power he thinks he has, his tactics won’t convince anyone who does know Bart.”

“Good.”

“It is good. Trying to discredit Bart only proves Clifton doesn’t know everything.”

“I’d just hate to have—”

“Your mess hurt others,” he finished for her. “I get it.” He started to reach across the cab, then deliberately put his hand back on the steering wheel.

She didn’t care for the feeling that she was missing out on something precious. It put her back on the defensive. A position she thought she was done with where he was concerned. “It’s true. My decisions have been ruining lives for too many years now.”

“Every decision has ripple effects on the people around us, Nicole. You don’t have a monopoly on that.”

Comments like that made her want to ask about his wife and why he still felt so much guilt over her death. They both knew some ripples were bigger than others. It might be nice to know more about what he did or how he usually went about doing it. “So where is the Cypress Security office?”

“Columbia.” He shot her a look. “You want a tour?”

She ignored that. “If they figured out your real identity and matched the car that got attacked with your office where does that leave us?”

“Can’t say for sure.” He flexed his hands on the steering wheel. “Seems like Clifton has remarkable reach and sources and I can only hope his determination to silence you will lead him into a trap he can’t escape.”

“You want him to have your information so he can track us?”

“It’s the only way to be sure he has enough rope to hang himself.”

If Rick had a plan for using the evidence she’d stashed to make the noose, she might feel as if her family could be avenged.

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