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At Midnight by Debra Webb


At Midnight
by
Debra Webb



Chapter One




An ice-cold shiver raced up Sarah Cook's spine as she stepped into the dimly lit alley. She told herself again that she wasn't afraid. Her weapon nestled snugly against the small of her back offering its own kind of comfort. Her training was more than adequate. There was no reason for her to be afraid.

Then why the hell are you shaking inside?

Sarah gritted her teeth and refused to acknowledge the question or the little voice niggling at her. Every instinct warned her that this was most likely a setup, but she would not be deterred. Not even by what her father called cop sense. Former Detective Sam Cook firmly believed that all real cops had a sixth sense — cop sense. And right now Sarah's cop sense was humming like crazy.

The alley between the old warehouses stood nearly dark save for the three-quarter moon and the one security light that tried valiantly to stave off the night. But since that one light was halfway down the rows of dilapidated buildings, it didn't offer much help where Sarah waited impatiently for her contact to show. In fact, she doubted it served any real security purpose at all.

She hugged herself against the chill of the March night. Any time now her man would show. He'd refused to give his name, her first indication that this little tête-à-tête was not on the up-and-up. She glanced at her watch; five minutes to midnight. The time and location did little to lend credibility to the supposed informant, either. But Sarah was desperate. Desperate to prove her father was the man she'd always believed he was. Desperate to clear his good name.

Sam Cook had spent the better part of his life as a homicide detective for Chicago PD. He had been a highly decorated, fiercely loyal servant for nearly three decades to the city he loved. Then, two years ago a case went south and Sam Cook was stripped of everything. Sarah had watched her father's health, physical as well as emotional, decline ever since.

She knew he was innocent. He'd been framed — no two ways about it. But proving it was another story. Her father had quickly given up. Hoping to save his family the disgrace and humiliation of a public investigation, he had resigned, throwing away the retirement he'd worked half a lifetime for and all but confessing to a crime he didn't commit.

It was Sarah's turn now. She'd worked hard these past eighteen months to get where she was. She'd graduated from the police academy at the top of her class. Though she was only a rookie, she finally had access to Chicago PD's inner sanctum. Now all she had to do was find a way to prove her father's innocence. Shortly after she started dropping hints around the locker room that she hoped to prove her father was framed, she got a call.

She glanced at her watch again. Midnight. She would soon know if her anonymous caller was friend or foe. If she was really lucky she'd live to chastise herself later for the risk she was taking now.

A soft thud echoed from the other end of the alley. Sarah straightened, reaching automatically for her weapon. Adrenaline sent her senses to the next level. She squinted at the darkness beyond the reach of the waning light. Nothing moved as far as she could see.


The sound of soft-soled shoes whispered across the expanse of cobblestone.

Fabric rustled somewhere closer.

Just beyond the Dumpster.

Her gaze jerked in that direction. Sarah stiffened her spine, her weapon at the ready, her entire being poised in a battle-ready stance. She strained to see any sign of movement. Where there was sound there had to be movement.

She saw nothing.

An eerie silence filled the air.

Cautiously, soundlessly, she eased a few steps toward the Dumpster…toward the fringes of the pale glow of light.

The silence thickened.

Her respiration picked up an extra twenty beats per minutes. She struggled to ignore the hammering in her chest, focusing hard to hear even the slightest noise.

Nothing.

Realization dawned. Whoever was there knew he wasn't alone. Had she inadvertently made a sound? She eased deeper into the shadows, taking care not to allow the fabric of her jeans and sweatshirt to brush against the brick building. No. She'd been too careful. Not a single sound accompanied her stealthy movements. Her training was too good…her skills honed by months of practice on unsuspecting targets when she was off duty.

Whoever was out there hadn't heard her, he'd sensed her.

That could mean he was a cop, too.

For about one second she considered calling out. He, if it was a he, could be her contact, after all. But what if he wasn't? What if this was a setup as she suspected?

Another five or so seconds ticked by as she held as still as stone. Surely if the guy was her contact, and his intentions were good, he'd call out to her. He, at least, knew her name. More time crawled by. Nothing, not even traffic in the distance broke the pulse-pounding hush that had settled over the alley.

This was going nowhere. She had to make a move, break the standoff. If this guy wanted her dead, she might as well get in the first strike. The element of surprise was always an ally.



Taking a deep, bolstering breath, Sarah made a dash for the stack of garbage bags next to the Dumpster. She'd still have the darkness and cover on her side, but the move would be impossible to miss.

The instant she reached her new position she flattened against the wall. Listening, watching. She fought to slow and quiet her breathing.

He moved.

He took up a position on the other side of the Dumpster, only steps away. She needed a decoy. Something that would divert his attention from her position.

She reached for one of the garbage bags.

"Who the hell are you?"

The deep, male voice startled her. Sarah clutched the bag awkwardly as she considered the voice. Definitely not her contact. Of course, he could have been using something to distort his voice when they spoke on the phone.

She wanted to call out to him, to demand who he was, but she needed to retain the element of surprise. She damn sure didn't want to give him any ammunition. If he wasn't her contact he didn't know she was a woman, which could be taken as weakness.

"I arrived at midnight just like we agreed," the voice went on after several beats of silence. "Why the cloak and dagger routine?"

Sarah shivered. Whether from the cold or the voice, she couldn't be sure. Maybe this guy was her contact. Then again, why didn't he call her by name? Her contact knew her name.

A new jolt of determination obliterated the effect of the man's voice. With all her might she drew back her right arm and threw the bag right into the center of the golden circle made by the security light. His reaction was instantaneous and fearless. He scrambled toward the presumed threat.

Sarah bounded up the small mountain of garbage bags and across the top of the closed Dumpster. He whipped around, weapon drawn, but he wasn't fast enough. Already airborne, she landed not three feet away, her weapon aimed directly at him.

They stood in the pool of light, each with a lethal bead on the other.

"The way I see it," Sarah told him, "we can both shoot and both die right here. Or you can tell me who the hell you are."

He lifted one tawny eyebrow. "And what's to keep you from shooting me while I'm busy telling you my name?"

Sarah looked at the man, really looked at him, for the first time. He was far too handsome for comfort and there was something about the self-assured grin now stretched across that sinful mouth that made her furious.

She cocked her weapon, the sound reverberating around them. "Absolutely nothing."


Chapter Two




When he'd first realized that his attacker was a woman, William Quinn had relaxed a fraction. He could handle a woman. He was bigger, stronger. But now, staring past the black barrel of her cocked weapon and into those fiercely determined brown eyes, he wasn't so sure.

"I hope you have a permit to carry that weapon," he said by way of making conversation and in hopes of defusing the razor sharp tension. His own weapon was still leveled center torso. If she planned to rob him, he hoped like hell she'd get on with it. Unexpected company was the last thing his informant would want. Any minute now the guy would show up, see this woman and the guns, and that would be the end of their scheduled appointment.

"Who are you?" she demanded. Though undeniably feminine, her voice was laced with steel. Those dark eyes were equally hard but he'd have to have been blind not to notice the exotic shape and extra long lashes.

"You go first," Quinn suggested in a tone he hoped came across as charming. "Ladies first and all that," he added with a hint at a smile.

Her gaze only grew colder and her trigger finger tightened just the slightest bit. "This is not a game."

Okay, so charm didn't work. The lady was serious. Very serious. "All right. I'll lower my weapon, if you lower yours. My wallet is in my right hip pocket. Take it and get outta here and we'll forget the whole thing happened." He mentally ticked off all the items he'd have to replace. His driver's license, credit card, student ID. Geez, this was going to be fun. He'd lived his whole life in Chicago and never once been mugged.

Her expression turned stricken. "You think I'm going to rob you?" Her tone matched her expression.

He shrugged one shoulder. "What am I supposed to think?"

Fury streaked across that pretty face. He watched in morbid fascination as the graceful line of her jaw hardened. That full mouth flattened into a grim line. She was a looker. Too bad she was a thief.

"Last chance, buster," she growled. "Who the hell are you?"

She was tenacious. He had to give her that. "William Quinn," he said flatly. This little game had grown tiresome. He had a meeting. Quinn quickly glanced from side to side. Any second now his guy would show. She was going to ruin everything.

A line of concentration furrowed its way across her elegant brow. She was running his name through her memory banks to see if it rang a bell. He tried to tell himself that he needed to study her, to remember every detail. But the path of his gaze had nothing to do with memorizing a perpetrator. She was far too gorgeous for a criminal. Her thick mane of chestnut-colored hair was pulled back into a youthful ponytail. He imagined it would feel silky between his fingers. He had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to reach out and run his fingers through it. But the desire to live outweighed that particular urge — just barely.

"What're you doing here, Mr. Quinn?" Her tone had turned all business, brisk and devoid of emotion, anger, or otherwise.

Since her weapon was still pointed in his direction, he chose to keep his bead on the lovely lady as well. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

"You don't need to know my name," she retorted, impatience slipping back into her voice. "What're you doing in this alley at this time of night?"

"I could ask you the same, you know."

A flare of impatience lit those brown eyes. He tensed when she reached beneath her sweatshirt. "Officer Sarah Cook," she told him pointedly as she shoved her ID in the general direction of his face, right next to her weapon, the ultimate reminder that she still considered herself in charge of the situation.

Quinn studied the ID for about two seconds. "You're a cop?" It wasn't until he said the words out loud that the reality struck him. She was a cop.

"Gee, you're a fast learner," she mused sardonically as she tucked the ID back into the waistband of her jeans. "Now, what the hell are you doing here, Quinn?"

Knowing the move could very well prove to be a mistake, he lowered his weapon. "I'm here for a meeting with an informant. And you?" He tried to think of one legitimate reason for a cop, an out-of-uniform beat cop at that, to be in this alley at this time of night. She wasn't Vice or Homicide. He looked her over again. Considering the way she was dressed, he supposed she could have been out for a run. Some people preferred to do their physical training at night. But then, why the cloak and dagger routine when they first stumbled upon each other in this alley?

One dark eyebrow arched as she promptly ignored his question. "I know you aren't a cop, not local anyway. If you're a PI, you're the one who'd better have a permit to carry a concealed weapon."

She hadn't relaxed her battle-ready posture. As a former cop himself, he knew firsthand that her training would never allow her to surrender control easily. He still had trouble with that himself. Judging by her age, really young, twenty-two maybe, she had to be a rookie. In that case, she might just be a little trigger happy as well. No point risking his life to prove anything.

"I have a permit," he assured her. "It's in my wallet along with my ID. I'm a law student and I'm working on a special case for one of my professors."

"Give me your weapon," she ordered, simultaneously reaching out her left hand. "And then I want to see your ID."

"Look, Officer Cook, I don't know what your beef is, but I'd feel at a little disadvantage if I handed over my weapon. How about I tuck it away, keep my hands in plain sight and you check out my ID? Fair enough?"



Her eyes searched his for several beats before she relented. "One wrong move, and it'll be your last," she warned.

"I have no doubt." Quinn tucked the weapon into his jeans, raised his hands above his head, then turned his back to her so that she could retrieve his wallet. When she'd removed his wallet he turned around to face her.

Officer Cook, Sarah, he recalled from her ID, glanced at his ID and then offered the wallet back to him. "What kind of class brings a student into a place like this in the middle of the night?"

"Can I put my hands down?" He couldn't help the grin that inched across his mouth. She looked completely flustered now.

"Not yet." She glanced left then right. "I asked you to explain your presence here."

"I selected an unsolved murder case involving a former Chicago PD detective." An epiphany slammed into Quinn's head. Detective Sam Cook. Her name was Sarah Cook. Quinn didn't believe in coincidences and he damn sure didn't like the irony of the moment. Not at all.

Her posture moved to a new level of attention. "What's the detective's name?" she demanded, her knuckles going white where she gripped her weapon.

Quinn swallowed tightly. This conversation was going downhill fast. "Cook. Sam Cook."

Confusion, fear, and another emotion he couldn't quite identify danced across her face. "Give me one good reason I should believe you."

He wasn't sure he had a reason she would consider a good one. "I'm —"

A burst of gunfire from the far end of the alley interrupted his explanation. Instinctively he threw himself at Sarah, forcing her down to the rough cobblestone.

A bullet whizzed by his head.

 Chapter Three





"Roll!" Sarah commanded.

Quinn obeyed without hesitation. They rolled, a tangle of arms and legs, into the concealing darkness. More bullets sprayed past them. The only thing they had on their side at the moment was that the shooter didn't want to be seen. To that end he was forced to fire at an odd angle from his meager position of cover, making him a poor shot at best.

"Keep moving," Quinn muttered against her ear.

In spite of or maybe because of the situation, she shivered. It couldn't be Quinn. She forced her attention back to staying alive as they crawled through the darkness as quickly as they dared. Any sound, no matter how muffled, would give away their position. Even a bad shot could garner a deadly hit if he had enough opportunities.

"There's my car."

Quinn was behind her, ushering her toward a nondescript sedan on the opposite end of the alley from where she'd parked her own. The shooter was stationed not twenty feet from her parked vehicle. She didn't even want to think what kind of condition her car would be in come morning after a night in this part of town.

While she moved toward the sedan Quinn had indicated, he sent the shooter into cower mode with a rapid succession of shots from the nine-millimeter he'd whipped from the waistband of his jeans.

Out of the line of fire now, Sarah pushed to her feet and raced to the car. She jerked the door open and dived behind the wheel of the car intent on getting the hell out of Dodge.

No keys.

She hissed a curse.

Quinn dropped into the passenger seat. "You wouldn't leave a guy in the lurch, now would you?"

She hated that grin. Sarah snatched the dangling keys from his hand and started the engine. She slammed her foot against the accelerator just as the shooter, who'd obviously realized they were getting away, pulled off another round in their direction. She ducked her head between her hunched shoulders and prayed his aim hadn't improved.

Glass shattered.

Quinn swore loudly, hotly.

When they were a safe distance from the alley and the shooter, who'd chosen not to pursue on foot, no longer loomed in the rearview mirror, Sarah blew out a breath of relief. The shattering glass must have been a taillight, because the rear window was intact. She glanced at Quinn. He didn't appear to be hit.

"Where're we going?"

She clenched her jaw against the little flutter the sound of his voice elicited low in her belly. "My place."

"Any reason I should object?" he wanted to know.

That was another thing she didn't like about him — that self-assured, cocky male attitude. Just because he was inordinately handsome and built like a male model, he didn't have to be so sure of himself.



She tossed a glare in his direction. "I guess we'll know when we get there."

Thankfully he remained quiet the rest of the trip across town. She'd parked his car in her drive and was preparing to unlock her front door before he spoke again.

"Nice place," he noted.

Her acknowledgment might have passed for a grunt, but nothing more. She didn't need him to tell her she had a nice place, she knew she did. She'd inherited the little house from her grandmother. It was tiny but in great shape and the neighborhood was terrific. She felt at home here. Something she didn't feel anymore in the house where she'd grown up. She couldn't bear to watch her father waste away.

Her every emotion from the night's activities suddenly channeled into anger. She turned on Quinn. "Just what the hell are you doing investigating my father?"

He held out his hands stop sign fashion. "Whoa." He shook his head. "I don't know what happened tonight, but I am not the enemy. I had an appointment with a guy who promised to give me information on what really happened two years ago."

Her heart rate kicked into overdrive. "What information?"

Quinn dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. "I don't know. When I got to the appointed destination I found you. What were you doing there?"

She considered lying, but then thought better of it. What did she have to lose? Maybe he was telling the truth. "The same thing. My contact was supposed to meet me in the alley at midnight." She glowered at Quinn. "That definitely didn't happen."

He looked incredulous. "And that's my fault? I'm telling you lady, we were almost killed tonight and it has something to do with your father."

She lifted her chin a notch and met those glittering blue eyes. "Who was your contact?"

Quinn shrugged again. "He wouldn't give me a name."

Sounded far too familiar. "And how did you find him?"

"I didn't. He found me. It wasn't a secret I was looking into the case. I'd asked a lot of questions. Interviewed several people."

"Then I guess we were stood up by the same guy," she suggested. A bad feeling had taken hold of her gut.

"Maybe we weren't stood up at all," Quinn offered, voicing her own fear.

The idea that the shooter was her contact as well as Quinn's and that he'd arranged to have them in the alley at the same time so he could kill them both had her swaying on her feet. This was too much.



Quinn grabbed her by the shoulders. "You okay?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not okay." She pulled free of his touch. "The one person who appeared able to help me prove my father's innocence just tried to kill me. I'm definitely not all right." She blinked back the tears gathering in her eyes. She did not want to cry. Especially not in front of him.

Before she could back away, he had her in his arms. He held her close. Held her even tighter when she struggled to get away. "It's okay," he murmured against her hair. "We're both safe now."

"It's not me I'm worried about," she muttered. God she hated to cry, but she just couldn't help it. Quinn's strong arms didn't help her resolve. How long had it been since she'd been held like this? She squeezed her eyes shut and relaxed against his muscular chest. She'd been too busy trying to save her father to worry about herself. She had no social life at all, hadn't had one in months. She was pathetic.

Quinn didn't say anything for a long while. He just held her in those big, strong arms. He smelled so good. Felt so good. And, unlike most men, he knew when to keep his mouth shut. Finally he drew back just far enough to look into her eyes. She trembled at the reminder that he didn't just feel good, he looked damn good, too.

"How long have you been working on your father's old case?"

She wanted to be angry at his question, to jerk away from his touch, but she couldn't. There was no way to deny the sincerity in those caring blue eyes. Who was this guy?

"A couple of months." She swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands and cursed herself again for being so weak. She never cried.

Quinn nodded. "I started a few weeks ago." He guided her to the couch where they both sat down. "The whole situation around the case intrigued me. The murder is still listed as unsolved, yet your father was forced into retirement almost as if he were the perp."

Sarah took a deep breath. "They made him feel that way. It was his own partner's report that did him in."

"Danberry," Quinn agreed, the disdain in his voice unmistakable.

"You know him?"

Quinn stood, giving Sarah a great view of his lean, athletic frame. She shook herself. Concentrate, girl. This is not the time to think about sex — no matter how long it's been.

"Oh, I know him all right." Quinn looked down at Sarah. "I don't trust him."

Maybe it was the receding adrenaline or maybe it was the proximity to Quinn, but Sarah felt suddenly more confused than ever. "How do you know him that well?"

That piercing blue gaze connected with hers. "I used to be a cop."

Sarah felt her mouth drop open, but quickly snapped it shut. "I don't understand."

Before he could answer, glass shattered on the other side of the room.

"Get down!" Quinn shouted.

They both hit the floor. The squeal of tires told them that whomever had broken the window was in a hurry to get away. Careful to keep their heads low, Sarah and Quinn crawled toward the brick that lay amid the shards of glass on her living room carpet. A note attached to the brick read: "If you want to live stop looking into the past."

 Chapter Four




"You have to take this warning seriously, Sarah."

She ignored him, feigning all-consuming interest in cleaning up the broken glass. Quinn wanted to shake her. But what good would it do? None. She was too determined. Too stubborn.

He surveyed his handiwork where he'd nailed a couple of boards over the broken window. It was only a temporary solution. Just like their current situation. For the past couple of hours they had acted as partners, working to save each other's lives. Quinn had a hunch that was all about to come to a screeching halt.

Sarah Cook didn't want his help or his interference. She didn't have to say the words. He could read the message loud and clear in her body language…in what she didn't say.

He knelt in front of her and lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Listen to me, Sarah. These guys, whoever they are, mean business. You could end up dead. I don't think your father would want that."

She jerked away from his touch. "Don't tell me what to do. You don't know anything about my father or me."

Quinn stilled her hands with his own when she would have continued her task. "I know if he loves you he wouldn't want to see you hurt. No man who cared about a woman would want that."

She stared directly into his eyes then, trying to read him. He pushed to his feet, silently chastising himself for saying too much. He'd only known her a couple of hours. He wasn't supposed to feel this way already. He kept telling himself that it was simply a matter of protective instincts. She was the weaker sex, it was his job to protect her. It was the cop in him, he added when mere chivalry didn't quite cover it. But the truth was, he didn't know what he was feeling. He only understood with complete certainty that he couldn't let anything happen to this woman.

Sarah stood then, drawing his attention back to those deep brown eyes…that pretty face. Tendrils of silky hair had worked their way loose and were hugging the delicate column of her throat. His chest constricted. He wanted to touch her there…wanted to know how her skin tasted.

"I appreciate your concern," she said softly and to his complete surprise. "I really do believe you want to help. But I don't see how you can." She shook her head and looked away. "He's my father. It's my problem. I don't want to risk anyone else."

Quinn laughed, a humorless sound. "Too late, Officer Cook. I'm already involved. Remember this is my class project. I'm not about to back off. I have too much time invested." He took her by the hands and waited until she looked at him again. "I don't give up so easily."




"The way I see it," she said, withdrawing from him and quickly folding her arms over her chest protectively, "we only have one choice then. We have to work as partners until we figure this out. You share what you find and I'll do the same."

Quinn's gut told him she had no intention of sharing. She still didn't trust him. "I have a better idea. Why don't we just work together and then we'll each know what the other knows."

She started to argue. He saw it in her eyes, but common sense prevailed. She knew he was right. "Fine."

He splayed his hands, palms up. "So what's your plan, partner?"

"I assume you've read the case file and the newspaper reports."

He nodded. "I've even performed a few interviews of my own. The whole scenario doesn't quite add up. Something's missing…out of place." He shook his head. "I can't put my finger on it just yet, but there are definitely missing pieces."

"I agree."

Wow, that had been easier than he'd expected. She was impressed. Her eyes gave away her every emotion. Or maybe she just allowed him to see what she wanted him to see. She was a second-generation cop.

"We need to see the working files. Does your father have any files on the case?"

She sighed. "Nope. They took everything from him within hours of Internal Affairs's involvement." She slumped. "Even if they hadn't, he wouldn't cooperate. He doesn't want me digging around."

Quinn tapped the note now folded and tucked away in his shirt pocket. "I can understand why he'd feel that way."

Her cheeks flushed with anger, an emotion she obviously used as a shield. "We have to look at Danberry's private case files."

"Yeah, right." He braced his hands on his hips and glared down at the woman now staring angrily up at him. "Which judge do you think is going to grant us a search warrant?" He smacked himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. "What am I thinking? We don't need a search warrant, we'll just break into his office."

A smile that tied Quinn's insides into knots slid across her face. "Precisely."

* * *



Thirty minutes later Quinn was still telling himself she couldn't be serious, and yet they stood right outside Danberry's office. The sign on the door's glass window read: Burt Danberry, Chief of Homicide.

This was completely nuts.

"We should rethink this, Sarah," he whispered, his gaze roving constantly from one end of the deserted corridor to the other. "This is not a smart idea."

She was doing the credit card thing on the locked door. "No one said you had to participate. Go wait in the car if you have a problem with this."

He muttered a curse. Like he could just let her do this on her own. She was going to get herself killed and maybe him, too. Not to mention she'd lose her job and he'd likely be kicked out of law school if they were caught.

"I can't get it," she huffed.

He was going to regret this. "Get out of the way," he growled. She obliged. Less than ten seconds later he had the door open. He'd learned a few tricks during his time in the field.

"Don't ask," he admonished at her look of surprise.

Inside, Quinn kept lookout while Sarah rummaged through Danberry's desk and file cabinets. Luckily nothing inside the office was locked. Keeping the room in darkness, she used a flashlight to skim through the folders.

"Make it snappy," he tossed over his shoulder. "I'm liking this less and less."

"Shut up, Quinn," she muttered.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to monitoring the corridor outside the office. Something was definitely wrong with him. He was too young to be going through a midlife crisis. Then again, he had shucked his badge and uniform to go back to school. But he'd had good reason, he reminded himself. He wanted to change the way justice was levied. He wanted to make the kind of difference he couldn't make as a policeman.

"Dammit."

He glanced at Sarah where she knelt in front of the credenza. "What'd you find?"

She muttered another curse. "Nothing." She opened the folder for him to see. "There's nothing in here."

The rasp of rubber soles on the polished tile jerked Quinn's attention back to the corridor. He swore. "Someone's coming."

Sarah pushed the folder back into place, clicked off the flashlight and silently closed the drawer. She and Quinn took cover behind Danberry's desk.

His heart thundered in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Quinn's mind raced for a reasonable explanation for what they were doing in Danberry's office in the event the guard came inside and caught them.

The footsteps halted right outside the door.

Quinn braced himself for the worst.

 Chapter Five




Sarah held her breath until the guard had moved down the corridor and out of earshot. The air hissed out of her lungs then. Relief flooded her, making her weak.

"We have to get out of here." Quinn snagged her by the arm and practically dragged her toward the door.

"Wait." She dug in her heels. Despite the layers of clothing the feel of his long fingers sent a zing of electricity straight to her core. She fought the effect of that simple touch. This was crazy. She'd never been affected by a man, a stranger at that, in such a primal way.

Even in the sparse light spilling through the half-closed blinds she could see the hard set of his chiseled jaw…the ferocity in those blue eyes. "Wait?" he snapped. "Wait for what? The guard to come back and find us? Or maybe we'll just hang around until Danberry shows up." He laughed dryly. "There's what we need. The man himself, so we can question him face-to-face."

Sarah's own anxiety level was peaking off the chart; apparently Quinn's had already gone beyond that point. "Take a breath, Quinn. We haven't murdered anyone. We've only broken a couple of little laws."

He released her as abruptly as he'd taken hold of her and plowed his fingers through his hair. "You don't get it, do you?"

Okay, she was right. He'd lost it. "Look, Quinn, if you can't handle the pressure —"

Taking her by the shoulders, he gave her a firm shake. "This isn't some game, Sarah. This is real life. If Danberry finds out what you're up to, assuming he hasn't already, you could be in big trouble. The kind of trouble you don't walk away from. If he had anything to do with that murder he's not going to let some punk rookie ruin everything for him. He's too smart for that."

She jerked away from his hold. "You're either with me or against me." Reaching for the doorknob she shot him a scathing look. "I'm out of here."

Sarah was halfway down the corridor before Quinn followed. She refused to acknowledge just how thankful she was that he didn't walk the other way. She'd started this alone, she could finish it alone. She didn't need him.

Then why had she felt suddenly lost without him?



She couldn't analyze that right now. Exiting the building without rousing suspicion was top priority. If she made a wrong move and lost her job, where would she be then?

No place she wanted to consider. Besides the burning desire to help her father, she loved being a cop. It was more than a job…it was who she was.

Sarah listened in the deserted stairwell for several seconds before starting her descent. She didn't want to run into any of her fellow officers working the graveyard shift. She kept her ears open as she and Quinn hurried down the four flights of stairs. One glance over her shoulder told her he was doing the same. He'd been a cop once, too, he'd said. She couldn't help wondering what had made him give it up. It couldn't have been in his blood the way it was in hers. No way he'd have been able to give it up.

Bursting out into the night air from the east exit sent another wave of relief flooding through Sarah. All that risk for nothing. A savage stab of disappointment quickly dammed the feeling of relief. But she'd had to check it out, hadn't she?

"I'll drive," Quinn stated, his tone brooking no arguments. He paused at the driver's side of the car. "Don't even think about giving me a hard time."

She tossed the keys at him and went for nonchalant. What she felt was closer to outrage. Outrage at his cockiness. Outrage at her own vulnerability to anyone, much less him. She was too used to being on her own. She didn't like this feeling of vulnerability.

Quinn pulled out into the street headed in the direction of her house. She steeled herself for what would likely be his response to the suggestion she was about to make. But she saw no other option.

"Turn left at the next intersection," she ordered coolly.

He glanced at her as he braked to obey her instructions. "Afraid to go back to your place?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid of anything, Quinn. We're going to Danberry's."

"Now that's a good one." He snorted a laugh. "When hell freezes over."

"If you're not game, then let me out at the next corner and I'll do it on my own."

The car screeched to an abrupt halt. The shoulder belt was all that kept Sarah from being flung forward with the force. "What the hell are you doing, Quinn?"

He barreled out of the vehicle and around the hood before Sarah could fathom his intent. He jerked her door open. "Get out," he roared.

She glanced around the dark, quiet neighborhood where he'd chosen to play out this little temper tantrum. He'd been so cool and collected all this time. Who would have thought he could go off like this? Sarah swallowed tightly. This was the sort of thing that happened when one cavorted with strangers.

"Look, Quinn, there's no need to cause a scene. It's three o'clock in the morning. People are trying to sleep."

"I said, get out of the car." The expression on his face was murderous.

With a put-upon sigh, Sarah pushed out of her seat and stared up at him. "Okay, what now, partner," she reminded none too gently.

"You have obviously lost your mind," he ranted in a stage whisper. "Someone tried to kill us in that alley. If Danberry is involved in this — which is the most likely scenario — then he was behind the attempt. And now you want to break into his house?" He flung his arms heavenward. "You are crazy."



She lifted her chin and glared at him. Their gazes locked in battle beneath the streetlight. "Yeah, maybe I am crazy. My father worked his entire life to keep this city safe. He loved being a cop. And someone took that away from him. I know that someone is Danberry and no one's going to do anything about it. It has to be me." She punctuated the statement by hooking a thumb at her chest. "There is no one else. I have to help him. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand how that feels."

He jammed his hands at his waist. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I've come this far with you. I just don't have the same death wish you do."

"It means, Mr. Know-It-All, that you gave up being a cop. You can't know how important the work is to someone who really loves being a cop. So just forget it. Go home. I can take it from here."

Sarah tried to push past him, but he stopped her. "Just because I gave up being a cop doesn't mean I didn't love it."

She blew out a breath of frustration. "Whatever you say."

"I gave it up so I could do more. By becoming an attorney, eventually a district attorney or judge, maybe I can stop some of these repeat offenders." Fury whipped across his handsome face. "Do you know how much I despised busting these guys only to see some hot shot mouthpiece put them out on the street again?" His struggle to rein in his emotions was painful to watch. "I want to make a difference."

It was true. The honesty in those blue eyes and the emotion tightening the features of his face were far too real. "Then you have to know how I feel," she urged. "You have to know that I can't not square this for my dad."

He touched her cheek. The feel of his fingertips gliding along the line of her jaw sent heat searing through her. He stared at her mouth, somehow closer than he'd been, but she hadn't been aware either of them had moved. At that moment she wanted him to kiss her more than she wanted to take her next breath.

"All right." He drew back and blinked the haze of lust from his eyes.

Sarah staggered with the effort of regaining her composure. She moistened her lips and fought to catch her breath. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest and he hadn't even kissed her. She shook her head and focused on his words. Did they mean what she hoped they did?

"We'll do what we have to," he surrendered.

Her gaze collided with his. "Does that mean you'll go to Danberry's with me?" She could hardly believe he meant it. She'd fully expected him to bow out at this point.

"If I don't you'll just go on your own and I…" He seemed at a loss for words. He sighed and gestured to the car. "Come on, let's just go before I say something I'll regret."

Relief and gratitude bubbling up inside her, before she could think about what she was doing, she'd tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Quinn."

 Chapter Six




Danberry's small, neat house sat amid a cluster of huge live oaks. The street was quiet and dark save for two streetlights, both of which were too far from Danberry's house to make any real difference. Quinn parked the car across the street and a couple houses down just to be safe.

"He's not home," Sarah said with certainty.

Quinn scanned the house in question once more. "How can you be so sure?"

"His Porsche isn't home and I happen to know it's the only vehicle he owns."

Quinn knew the history on Danberry. He lived far above his means, but no one paid any attention since his wife had died about five years back and he claimed she'd left a very large insurance policy. Quinn had his own ideas. He figured that five years ago was when old Danberry decided to ensure a better retirement. There had been a rumor or two indicating that Danberry was dirty. But no one wanted to point fingers — not really anyway. The guy had made chief of homicide after his partner's forced retirement. Quinn frowned. He couldn't help wondering about Sarah's father. Sam Cook never once tried to exonerate himself.

"Did your father ever mention any suspicions where Danberry was concerned?"

Sarah studied him for a long time before answering. "No." She inclined her head and searched his eyes even closer. "My father wasn't a dirty cop. He might be guilty of foolish loyalty, but that's all."

Quinn knew Sam Cook's reputation. He'd been a good cop. The whole deal with the murder case went down just as Quinn was leaving the force, so he hadn't been privy to the rumor mill gossip at that point. Danberry had to have something on Cook to keep him quiet. Finding out what that was would go a long way in solving this mystery.

"I'm going in." Sarah reached for the door.

"Wait." Quinn held her back when she would have bounded out of the car. He worked hard not to be distracted by his traitorous body's reaction to merely touching her. His cheek still burned from that little kiss. "You're sure he's not in there?"

"I'm sure." She placed her hand on his, ratcheting up the tension. "I've watched his house before. It's not unusual for him to be out at odd hours."

Another strike against Danberry. Quinn nodded. "All right. Let's roll."



Sarah stayed right on Quinn's heels as he moved silently through the inky darkness. The last thing either of them needed was to be seen in the vicinity of what was about to become a crime scene. He forced the phrase breaking and entering from his mind. Going along with Sarah was the only way to keep her safe.

At the back door Quinn reached for the knob, his credit card in hand.

"Wait."

This time it was Sarah who hesitated.

He tried to see her eyes in the darkness but it was impossible. "What?"

"What if he has an alarm? I didn't even think of that."

Quinn had. He'd also considered whether or not the guy had a pet. "If he does then we run like hell."

He heard Sarah's sigh. "Good plan."

Quinn couldn't help a grin. "It works when all else fails."

A couple of twists and wiggles later and the door swung inward. If there was an alarm, it was a silent one. No dog barked. No cat hissed. A light in the hallway beyond the kitchen cast a dim glow in their direction.

"Looks like the coast is clear."

Flashlight in hand, Sarah moved in beside him. "He's bound to have an office or study around here somewhere."

Quinn closed the door and locked it. "No splitting up. We stick together."

She nodded her agreement, then led the way.

The long hallway led from the small kitchen to the living room, which was also dimly lit. They passed a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom along the way, but nothing that looked like an office. In the living room, on the far side of the room, another door stood open. The carpet beneath their feet kept their steps silent. Quinn was pretty sure, however, that nothing could silence the thundering in his chest. If they were caught…

"Pay dirt."

Sarah switched on the lamp on a desk that sat in the center of the small room beyond the living room. Most of the walls were covered with bookcases and file cabinets. One narrow window that led to the side yard was squeezed between two file cabinets. Quinn quickly pulled the drapes.

"Put things back the way you find them," he warned. "We don't want to make him suspicious." Assuming we get out of here alive, Quinn didn't add. "Keep your ears open. He could come home at any time."

"Stop talking and start looking," Sarah ordered.

A smile tugged at Quinn's lips. He decided then and there that he'd met his match in Sarah Cook.



Thirty minutes passed like three and still they hadn't found anything. Quinn grew more nervous with each passing moment.

"Why don't you go ahead and wait outside while I continue looking," he suggested.

"No way."

"I just want —"

"I know what you want," she interrupted, "and I can take care of myself."

Frustration tightened his chest. There was no way to protect this woman from herself. He thumbed to the next folder and read the label. Anticipation spiked. "Found it."

Sarah crouched next to him behind the desk. "Let's see."

Quinn opened the file and together they pored through the contents, once, twice.

Nothing. The file contained absolutely nothing incriminating. Every interview, every step the detective took was neatly outlined, carefully backed up with references.

"There has to be some evidence somewhere," Sarah said disgustedly.

Quinn replaced the file, closed the door and looked at her. "Maybe not. If he's half as smart as we think, he probably destroyed all the physical evidence long ago."

Sarah sat back on her heels and scrubbed her hands over her face. "This is useless. I'm never going to be able —"

The sound of the back door opening halted her words. Quinn's tension rocketed into hyper mode. Instantly he reached up and switched off the lamp. He ushered Sarah to the front of the desk. The desk faced the wall opposite the door. It was the safest place for them at the moment. There was no time to make a run for it. They huddled together, both struggling to quiet their breathing.

Heavy footfalls echoed in the long hall with its wood floor, then grew muffled on the living room carpet. Quinn reached for his weapon. He sure as hell didn't want to have to shoot the man in his own house, but if —

A cellular telephone rang.

The footsteps halted.

"Yeah."

It was Danberry's voice. He'd stopped in the middle of the living room to take the call. A heavy thud told Quinn he'd dropped on the couch. Sarah trembled and Quinn held her more tightly against his side.

"I don't care what it takes," Danberry roared. "The meet goes down tonight no matter what."

The meet.

Quinn's thoughts whirled at the implications. They might not be able to produce any evidence against Danberry for his past crimes, but if he was into something now, maybe they could bring him down that way.
"You do whatever you have to. I want Sarah Cook and her new friend dead. Comprende?"

Sarah stiffened in Quinn's hold. He didn't have to see to know that stark fear had claimed her features. Danberry knew what they were up to all right. And he wanted them dead.

 Chapter Seven




Nearly an hour passed before Danberry went into one of the bedrooms and slammed the door shut. Another hour crept by before Sarah and Quinn dared to move.

Sarah turned on the flashlight and gestured to the window. Quinn nodded.

While she listened for the slightest sound and held the light where Quinn could see, he eased the drapes aside. After unlocking the window, he eased it upward one tiny fraction of an inch at a time. The screen had long since been removed, which was a major plus.

Then came the hard part, getting out without making a sound. Danberry was probably a light sleeper.

Quinn motioned for Sarah to go first. She handed him the light and slung one leg over the ledge. She ducked her head under the raised sash and slid out, then dropped noiselessly to the ground. Quinn waited for a few seconds just to make sure Danberry hadn't roused, before climbing out himself. He pulled the sash back into place and turned to follow Sarah through the damp-with-dew grass.

A quick dash down the street and they were back in the security of Quinn's car.

Sarah sank into the upholstery and thanked God again for their safe escape. Luck had certainly been on their side so far tonight. Danberry and his minions had definitely been out looking for them. And though she and Quinn hadn't found any evidence, they now had a chance to take Danberry down.

Quinn drove to the end of the street without turning on his headlights. "This time we're going to my place," he said firmly.

"As long as I can have a hot bath and some sleep, I don't care where we go," Sarah mused, her body already anticipating the hot water and soft bed.

Quinn's bed.

Her eyes popped open and she tensed. Now where had that thought come from? Just because he'd helped her out, made her feel safe — almost kissed her — it didn't mean anything. Right?

Wrong.

It meant a lot.

She turned to Quinn, reveling in his gorgeous profile, remembering how it felt to be held in those strong arms. She'd never felt this way about any man before, much less one she'd known less than twenty-four hours.

"Quinn."

He glanced at her. "Yeah."

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't know how to thank you. I couldn't have done this without you. For the first time I have a real chance at exonerating my father."

He kept his attention on the road before them. "It was nothing," he insisted in typical male fashion. "After all, I have a stake in this, too. I plan to get an A in this class."

Sarah laughed for the first time in too long to remember. Quinn laughed, too. He glanced at her again and something flickered in those beautiful blue eyes. Something that looked an awful lot like affection.

He liked her. And she was glad because she really liked him.


 Chapter Seven





They rode in silence for a time. Sarah basked in the feeling of success. She wanted desperately to call her father and tell him what she'd discovered so far. But she couldn't. Not until she was certain.

"Heads up," Quinn said abruptly. "We've got a tail."

Sarah twisted around in her seat. Sure enough, there was a car shadowing them. She squinted to make out the model as the vehicle passed under a streetlight. A sports car, a Camaro maybe.

"How long has he been following us?" It wasn't Danberry's car, but it could very well be one of his henchmen.

"Three, four minutes." Quinn sped up.

"Can you lose him?" Sarah's heart rate kicked into high gear.

"It would be my pleasure."

Quinn took a hard right. Sarah was grateful she'd remembered to buckle up. An abrupt left and then another hard right. Quinn seemed to go faster with each turn. Tires squealed. The engine roared as he gunned it between every turn.

The tail stayed with them.

"I don't think he wants to give up." Sarah held on to the seat with both hands while she watched the vehicle behind them racing to keep up.

"Maybe I'll give him a little incentive."

Sarah didn't even want to know what that meant.

Quinn gunned the engine. The car lunged forward. He moved through the next two intersections without even stopping. The only thing that felt as if it had stopped during those few seconds was her heart.

They took a right on two wheels and rocketed forward again.

"We lost him," Quinn announced, male pride brimming in his tone.

"Does that mean we can slow down now?" The landscape whizzing by was playing havoc with her ability to keep last night's hasty dinner down.

Quinn took another left, then a fast right. He turned to Sarah finally. "Absolutely."

She gulped in a lungful of air. "Good." She slowly relaxed into her seat. She knew taxi drivers who were more conservative than Quinn. Of course, she had asked him to lose the tail.

Quinn's place was a town house in an upscale neighborhood. Something else she hadn't expected.

"Home sweet home," he said jovially as he opened the front door.

Unlike Danberry, Quinn had a security system. He quickly punched in the code to disarm the system.

He walked straight to the hall table and punched the retrieve button on his answering machine. "Make yourself at home," he said. He gestured to the staircase. "You can have my room. I think you'll love the tub."

Sarah hurried up the stairs. She figured the sooner she put some distance between them the better off they'd both be.



She was wrong. Quinn's bedroom screamed of masculinity. Everything held his scent. As water filled the huge whirlpool tub, she wondered what he did besides attend law school. Maybe his parents were rich. She quickly undressed, swaddled herself in his robe and inhaled deeply of his scent.

A light tap on the door startled Sarah from her carnal thoughts. "Yes." She forced images of a naked Quinn from her mind. "Come in."

He stuck his head inside. "Thought you might need this." He pushed the door inward a little farther and offered her a cup of steaming hot cocoa.

Sarah wanted to weep. It smelled heavenly. "Thank you so much." She took the mug in both hands and savored the delicious scent. "You've got a great place."

"Well, it's only mine eleven months out of the year," Quinn explained. When she frowned her confusion, he continued. "I house-sit for a friend of mine. So, technically, it's not mine. He uses it for a vacation place. Grew up here."

That explained a lot. Though she hadn't really suspected him of anything, she had to admit she was relieved.

He turned to go, but hesitated. "Oh, I called a friend of mine who's going to lend us some equipment."

Sarah's eyebrows knitted in question. "What kind of equipment?"

"Listening and recording devices, night photography, you know the like." He grinned, then gave her a little salute. "Have a nice bath."

"Quinn, wait." Sarah sat her cocoa on the vanity's marble top. She hurried to the door where he waited. She shrugged. "Thanks." It seemed a pitiful gesture, but it was all she could think to say. Especially with him looking at her that way…like he wanted to kiss her. God, she really did want to kiss him. That little peck on the cheek just hadn't been enough.

For three tension-filled beats she was sure he would leave without kissing her. When he leaned forward, those blue eyes riveted to hers, she gasped. His lips brushed against hers and her eyes closed of their own volition. He kissed her sweetly, deeply. She wanted to touch him, but didn't dare. This was too perfect…too wonderful. It was the most wonderful, sweet, perfect kiss she'd ever had. And it ended all too soon.

"Good night, Sarah," he murmured. He kissed the tip of her nose and then he disappeared, leaving her swooning in his wake.

Sarah sighed as she slipped off the robe and into the deep, welcoming water. If they only survived the coming day and the night to follow, there might just be hope for something more.
 Chapter Eight




Tailing Danberry without his spotting them and keeping his henchman off their tail proved a bit of a challenge, but Quinn had everything under control.

Everything but his libido, that is. He glanced at Sarah, who sat silently in the passenger seat studying some of the equipment they would use for tonight's little midnight sting.

She'd gotten way, way under his skin. That kiss in the bathroom had almost undone him. He'd wanted to make love to her more than he'd wanted to see the sun rise this morning. But he couldn't let that happen. Not until this was over. He didn't want to take advantage of her feelings during the heat of the moment. But when this was over he intended to pursue the feelings he had for Sarah.

He was pretty sure she felt something for him as well. She'd been a little distant today, but he decided that had more to do with worrying about solving her father's case than with her feelings, or lack thereof, for Quinn.

"He's slowing down," Sarah said, jerking Quinn back to the here and now.

"I'm driving on past." Just to make sure Danberry didn't get suspicious, Quinn drove past his parked car. He continued for a block with Sarah watching Danberry through the camera's zoom lens.

"He went inside," she reported.

Quinn parked between two panel trucks, effective camouflage. Their movements fast and efficient, as if they'd worked together a lifetime, Quinn and Sarah gathered their equipment and headed toward ground zero. Stealth was tonight's watchword. If Danberry was up to no good as they suspected, tonight would be his downfall.

Inside the looming warehouse, they found a maze of rooms. The place was laid out like office space rather than bulk storage. After moving cautiously through several deserted rooms, they heard Danberry's voice.

Quinn paused outside the room where Danberry was conducting his meeting. Quinn pointed to the door and shook his head. There was no way they could go through that door not knowing what was on the other side. If the room was anything like the others, they'd be open targets.

Sarah pointed upward. Quinn followed her gesture. Since the building was a warehouse, the office walls, which were the temporary kind and only about eight feet high, didn't reach the two-story ceiling.

Quinn nodded. He understood that up and over would be their best plan of action. But now they needed a way to get up there. In an adjacent office a row of file cabinets offered the perfect solution.




Careful not to make any noise, Quinn helped Sarah onto the file cabinets. Using the credenza as a step, he joined her. Danberry stood with his back to their position. Three other men sat at a conference table, their gazes focused on the man speaking.

For the next thirty minutes Danberry incriminated himself completely in a drug ring that involved planned assassinations and exploitation of government funding and property. The whole thing was incredible. Anticipation strummed inside Quinn. Sarah didn't look so pleased. She knew none of this would help her father. But at least it would get Danberry off the streets — well, if they lived to see their plan to fruition anyway, Quinn amended.

The door to the conference room suddenly burst open. Sarah jumped, almost banging her recording device into the wall. Quinn steadied her, then quickly refocused his attention through the camera lens. Another man had joined the meeting. Quinn went deadly still when the new man ushered Danberry to the back of the room, not a dozen feet from their position.

Neither Quinn nor Sarah dared to even breathe.

"I lost them."

Danberry's face glowed red with fury, his words came out in a lethal mix between a growl and a whisper. "I thought I told you to make sure those two were taken out of the picture."

"I know how to get them," the other man hastened to assure him. "You have to let me do this my way."

The hair on the back of Quinn's neck stood on end. This was going to be bad.

"Let me use old man Cook to reel them in," the new guy suggested smugly. "The girl loves her old man, she'll do whatever I tell her if I work the old man."

Quinn felt Sarah tense next to him. His chest filled with pride at her ability to keep doing the job in spite of what was happening. She was a real cop.

"Do whatever you have to, Gifford," Danberry demanded. "I should have killed Cook two years ago and we wouldn't be having this problem right now. That was a mistake. I should have known that threatening to kill his daughter would never be enough to keep the lid on what he knew. She's turning out to be more of a pain than her old man."

"I'll take care of it, boss," Gifford assured, anticipation filling his tone.

Danberry returned to his meeting while Gifford hurried from the room. Sarah sent a worried look in Quinn's direction. He knew what she was thinking. She feared the man might get to her father before they could tie things up here.

A thud echoed in the corridor right outside the door to the office where Quinn and Sarah were located.



Quinn swiped his finger across his throat in the universal "cut" gesture. They were out of here.

"What the hell was that?" one of the men seated at the conference table demanded, his voice carrying in the enormous space above the wall enclosures.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Danberry insisted impatiently. "We have plans to finalize."

All Quinn and Sarah needed at this point was to get out of the building with the tape and film. To hell with the equipment. His friend could take it out of Quinn's hide. When he had pocketed both the tape and film, he took Sarah's hand and hurried to the door.

As they emerged into the deserted corridor a tall, stocky man, his dark hair graying and his brown eyes too familiar, stepped from the office opposite theirs.

"Dad?"

Sarah looked as shocked as Quinn felt. Sam Cook glared at the two of them with the kind of annoyed expression of impatience only a father could properly pull off.

"Get out of here now!" His glower focused more fully on Quinn. "Keep her —" The rest of what he would have said was interrupted when Danberry and party spilled into the corridor, weapons drawn.

All hell broke loose. The blast of weapons firing and the echo of hot curses filled the air. Quinn didn't have time to analyze what the hell Sam Cook was doing here. Danberry propelled himself toward Sarah. Quinn lunged forward, throwing himself between them, taking Danberry down in the process. They struggled. Danberry's gun fired, but missed its intended target.

Sarah screamed. Fear for her doubled Quinn's strength; he landed a blow that rendered Danberry motionless. He rolled him off and jumped to his feet.

Before he could reach Sarah, another guy plowed into him. Quinn quickly dispatched with him. Sarah had gotten the upper hand in her scuffle by the time Quinn reached her. He finished the guy off and pulled her to her feet. "You okay?"

She nodded, then pushed past him to check on her father.

Sam Cook had wrestled the final assailant to the floor and come out on top, but the struggle had taken a toll on the older man. He managed to get to his feet with his daughter's assistance.

"What are you doing here, Dad?" Sarah demanded, clearly furious now that the immediate danger had passed.

Her father picked up the weapon he'd obviously lost in the struggle and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers. "I could ask you the same, young lady," he groused. "I told you to stay out of my business with Danberry."

Quinn decided it was time for him to call this in and get some uniforms on the scene. He noted the motionless body of the guy, Gifford, just inside the door of the room Sam Cook had exited as he and Sarah had entered the corridor. The thud they'd heard had apparently been Sarah's father taking care of Gifford. Quinn snagged Danberry's cellular phone from his jacket pocket. Where he was going he wouldn't need it. Quinn punched in the necessary numbers while Sarah and her father argued.

"You've had someone following me?" Sarah echoed in disbelief of her father's words.

"I had to do something," Cook insisted. "You were going to get yourself killed. I even had one of my old squad buddies toss that warning through your window. Still you wouldn't give up! How the hell was I supposed to keep you safe from Danberry when you wouldn't listen to reason? When I learned that you and your friend here —" he tossed a glare at Quinn "— had broken into Danberry's house, I knew it was up to me to stop you. All I had to do was catch up with you." Another irritated glance was sent in Quinn's direction.

Quinn shrugged as he listened for the call to go through on the other end. "I thought the tail was one of Danberry's men."

Sarah held up her hands. "It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we have the proof to clear you." She looked up at her father with emotion shining in those dark eyes.

Quinn's heart lurched. What he would give for her to look at him that way…

The 911 operator interrupted his musings. He gave their location and said, "We need backup and —"

Danberry was suddenly on his feet. He reached around Sam and snagged the weapon in his waistband then held it to his head. "I should have done this two years ago," he roared, his back to Quinn.

Standing opposite her father, Sarah froze, her expression horrified.

"You know," Cook said casually, "I've been wanting to ask you that for a long time now. Why didn't you just kill me instead of torturing me the way you have…threatening my daughter's life…ruining my career?"

Danberry laughed and pressed the barrel of his weapon more firmly into Cook's temple. "I wish I could say that it was just for the fun of watching you squirm and suffer all this time, but that would be a lie. Killing you back then would have drawn attention to me. I needed you alive — you were my patsy. But now you've outlived your usefulness." Danberry glanced at Sarah. "Say good night to Daddy," he taunted.

Quinn had one chance here since Danberry had apparently forgotten about him. But if Quinn missed…he pushed the thought away and took aim. He wouldn't.

Danberry's finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon.

The shot exploded in the silence of the corridor.

Danberry's fingers relaxed from the weapon's grip. The nine-millimeter fell to the floor. Danberry dropped next to it. Sam Cook immediately kicked the weapon out of reach though Quinn doubted there was much chance Danberry would be attempting to use it again.

Sarah's stricken gaze flew from her father to Danberry, then to Quinn. She blinked, snapped from the trance of fear and moved toward Quinn.

He slowly lowered his weapon and lifted the cell phone back to his ear. "Send an ambulance, too," he said to the operator who was shouting on the other end of the line. He closed the phone and tossed it aside.

Sarah stopped directly in front of him. "You saved my father's life," she said softly, respect and some other emotion he couldn't readily identify in her eyes. "Saved mine."

Quinn managed a smile for her sake. "I think you can take some of the credit for that last part." He blinked, tried to shake the heaviness in his chest. He'd never shot a man before. He suddenly hoped, despite his wrongdoing, that Danberry lived. The possibility of having taken a life sat like a stone in his gut. He didn't want to get used to that feeling.

Sarah hugged him. Hugged him hard, as if realizing how he felt and knowing that he needed that kind of human touch right then. "We did it," she whispered, then drew back and looked up at him. "We cleared my father's name." She hugged him again, even more tightly. His arms went automatically around her.

For just one moment Quinn blocked out all else and simply enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. Her happiness suddenly felt like all that mattered. Some part of him was vaguely aware that Sam was collecting the weapons scattered on the floor and securing the bad guys. Yes. They had done it…together.

Sarah abruptly drew away. "Do you have plans tonight?"

Quinn searched those dark eyes, didn't miss the new look of mischief there. "Plans?" Did she mean besides having almost gotten themselves killed and solving a case that had slipped through the cracks of the system? Or did she mean personal plans? He shook his head, still uncertain. "No. I don't have any plans."

She tiptoed and planted a hot little kiss right on his lips. "I thought maybe you'd let me borrow that tub of yours again," she said seductively.

Quinn smiled down at her, every part of him reacting to the image his mind conjured. "Only if I can scrub your back."

She snuggled closer to him. "You've got a deal."

A few feet away, Sam Cook cleared his throat and shot Quinn a quelling look. "I certainly hope your intentions toward my daughter are honorable, young man."

Quinn met that protective glare with a reassuring one of his own. "You have my word on it, sir." He turned his attention back to Sarah. "And so do you." He pressed his lips to hers, sealing the deal he was certain would last a lot longer than just tonight.
 



The End