At Any Cost (4 page)

Comfortable and up front. Was it a cop thing that even the most innocent of conversations made you feel like you were being interrogated? “I guess. I haven't had any complaints yet.”

Nick studied her with an intensity that Livy couldn't help but find both unnerving and a little exciting. As though he were trying to climb right into her mind and dissect every single one of her thoughts. Her stomach tightened as a pleasant rush jolted through her bloodstream.

“Maybe I'll come up and take a lesson. I haven't skied since I was a kid. I could probably use a refresher.”

Livy grinned. “I'm sure you'd be right at home with the group of four to six year olds that I usually teach.”

“Yeah, in that case, I think I'll stick to motor sports.”

She could totally picture him as a motorhead. He was probably one of those guys who did hill climbs and took their sleds into avalanche country because that's where the best powder was. “I didn't see a snowmobile in your driveway. Is that why you decided to vacation here?”

“I don't own a snowmobile,” he said. “And I came here because the cabin was free and my supervisor told me to get the fuck out of the office before he threw me out.”

“Suspended?” Livy sipped from her cup to keep her hands from shaking. This was why it was important to get know him. The last person she needed as a neighbor was a morally ambiguous cop who might not be opposed to bending—or breaking—the law.

“Not exactly. I'm a little . . . intense. It gets me into trouble sometimes.”

Livy didn't doubt that for a second. The set of Nick's jaw, the deep focus of his dark eyes, his brow that seemed set in a permanent scowl all indicated a personality that swung toward type A and obsessive. But how was he
intense
? “Do you shake down grandmas and coerce confessions from teenage shoplifters?” She was only half kidding.

“I like to ruffle feathers,” he said without breaking eye contact. “And I don't quit until I get what I want.”

Livy's stomach wrung into a tight twist and released. The dark edge to his words shouldn't have excited her. She didn't know anything about him, for shit's sake! There was a certain appeal to a man who knew what he wanted and went after it, though. Then again, men like that were usually trouble with a capital
T
. “Do people typically do what you tell them to? No questions asked.”

He answered without a hint of humor. “Yes.”

A rush of heat spread from Livy's belly, outward between her thighs. “So”—she cleared her throat to keep her voice from quavering—“I take it you're a loner?”

“Yeah. Always have been.”

Livy stared into her cup. “Me too.”

A forlorn meow came from the staircase to the left. Livy turned to find Simon perched on the post of the banister. Nick's lips quirked. “Not entirely a loner.”

Simon leaped in a graceful arch and landed on the back of Nick's recliner. The large tabby stretched out, looking curiously at their guest before leaning in to boop Nick's forehead with his own. He froze, as though unfamiliar with even base affection and Livy's heart stuttered in her chest. “You're not allergic, are you?”

“No. I'm not much of a pet person.”

“Don't tell Simon that,” Livy remarked. “It'll break his heart.”

As though this hulking, stern-faced man was no more harmful that his favorite squeaky mouse toy, Simon continued to rub against Nick. And whereas Nick barely tolerated the affection, the cat reveled in it, evidenced by his loud, rumbling purrs. Simon licked the top of Nick's head and his eyes widened a fraction of an inch as one brow arched curiously.

“Okay, buddy, I'm pretty sure Nick doesn't need a bath. You're so needy first thing in the morning, aren't you?”

Livy set her cup down on the end table and reached over to retrieve Simon. He let out a yowl in protest as she relocated him to the couch. “Sorry. He doesn't get out much.”

“Do you?”

The question left the opportunity for too many answers. Answers Livy didn't want to give. Before she could respond, the loud growl of an engine followed by the scrape of a blade echoed from down the lane. “Plow's here,” she said. “Looks like I'm going to work after all.”

Nick's expression fell but he quickly recovered the stern countenance that Livy assumed was his “relaxed face.” She'd hate to see what he looked like when he was truly angry, because he could be considered threatening while exchanging polite conversation.

Nick stood and handed Livy his cup. “Thanks for the coffee, Livy, and be careful out on the roads today.”

She wondered at the way he stressed her name and a shiver danced down her spine. “It's always the other guy you've gotta watch out for, isn't it?”

“True.” Nick gave her a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he headed for the tiny foyer, put on his boots and coat, and grabbed his gloves. “See ya around?”

Did she want to see more of him? His gaze locked with hers, warm and so intense that it sucked the air right out of Livy's lungs. Heat swamped her. Yes, she definitely wanted to see more of him. “Sure,” she said with a tentative smile. “See ya around.”

Chapter Four

Nick stuffed a potato chip in his mouth as he studied the case file on Joel Meecum and the Black Death motorcycle club. Several notebooks were scattered across the table, his own notes that he'd taken over the past few months. Some guys hiked, fished, went to concerts in their spare time. Nick investigated fugitives.

Outside, snow was coming down steadily. The second wave of winter storms that were supposed to be hitting the area over the next couple of weeks. Payette Lake beyond his dining room window stretched on for a couple of miles, the water hidden by a layer of ice and snow that painted a pretty damned serene picture.

But he hadn't come here for the view.

Nick's phone buzzed, the vibration sending the device crawling across the table toward him. He checked the caller ID and swore under his breath. He could let it go to voice mail. He was on
vacation
, after all. Against his better judgment, he grabbed the cell and swiped his finger across the screen. “Brady.”

“Hey. It's Morgan.”

Ethan Morgan worked the warrants squad and had several arrests under his belt, all of them from past and current Top Fifteens. Nick also suspected that he was the one who suggested to their chief deputy that Nick take some time off. He was a good guy, really. If Nick would have been better about forming any kind of relationship with one or two of his coworkers, the dude might've been cool to hang out with.

Nick's disinterest in camaraderie was only one of the reasons he'd been forced to take a break. “What's up?” It's not like Morgan was calling to see how his vacay was going. Might as well get down to business.

“I'm missing a case file. Meecum. Have you seen it?”

Shit. Nick knew that it would only be a matter of time before Morgan noticed that the file wasn't in the stack on his desk anymore, but he'd been hoping that it would be after he had Meecum in cuffs. “I haven't been there for a week. How would I know where it is?”

“Come on, Brady. You've had a hard-on for Meecum ever since you came on. And it's not like you haven't
borrowed
case files from other desks before.”

“Maybe you misplaced it. Getting forgetful in your old age?”

“Fuck you, Brady.” Morgan was annoyed, but even so his words were spoken with a certain amount of humor. As bristly as Nick was, the Marshals Service was still a tight-knit group. As the new guy, he expected a little shade to be thrown his way. “Where the hell is my case file?”

“Check with Courtney. He could have it.”

“Nope.”

“Why do you even need a case file? This is the digital age. Everything you need is right at your fingertips. In fact, why do we even still use hard copies? Seems like a waste of trees to me.”

“You're a stubborn son of bitch, you know that?”

Nick had been called worse. Aggressive, antagonistic, dumb motherfucker. Stubborn was a compliment in comparison. “How long have you been working warrants, Morgan?”

“Few years.”

“You feel like working courts again anytime soon?” On the marshals' list of duties, hooking and hauling was the most tedious. According to veterans, if you shut up and paid attention, you'd learn a lot about the job by listening to what went down in trials. All Nick found was that it bored him out of his freaking mind.

“I still work courts,” Morgan replied. “Everyone does. It's part of the job. And you've got to pay your dues, Brady. Six months. That's all you have to put in and you can work a rotation on the warrants squad full-time. You're good at it. Probably too damned good. That ambition is either going to burn you out or get you killed, though. All I'm saying is, you need to slow the hell down, which is why you're on va-ca-tion. Now, where is my case file?”

Yeah, on a scale of one to dickhead, Morgan wasn't too bad. That didn't mean Nick was going to show his hand. “I wish I could help you out.” The sound of a vehicle coming down the lane drew Nick's attention. He craned his neck and looked out the kitchen window to see Livy's blue Dodge Caliber pulling into her driveway. “But if it turns up, let me know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Morgan replied. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yup.” He watched as Livy struggled with several bags of groceries. “Later.”

He ended the call without giving Morgan a chance to respond. He wouldn't have said anything Nick would want to hear anyway. It only took a second to slip his Sorrels on and he didn't bother to tie the laces as he headed out the door. He hadn't found any opportunities to talk to Livy since the morning she'd made him coffee and the clock was ticking. Three weeks to find Meecum and counting.

“Is there something wrong with making more than one trip?” He hadn't meant to bark at her. Residual annoyance from his conversation with Morgan.

Livy jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping three of the green reusable bags onto the snow. “Holy fucking shit!” Even filthy words sounded sweet coming from her mouth. “You scared the hell out of me!”

Over the past few days he'd bided his time. Watched her come and go like clockwork. When she hadn't come home at five this evening, he'd grown anxious. Pacing a lap from the kitchen to the living room until he'd forced himself to sit his ass down and go over Meecum's case file for the hundredth time. Now that she was home a sense of relief washed over him. What the hell? Yeah, he wanted the win and getting Meecum had become not only his number-one work priority, but also his top priority in life. But this was different. Had he actually been worried about her?

“It's no wonder you didn't hear me walk over. You're obviously more interested in impersonating a pack mule than watching out for sneak attacks.”

Livy whipped around to face him. Her hazel eyes flickered with fear and a deep flush rose to her cheeks. She hadn't been exaggerating. He'd straight-up scared her. She didn't exactly live her life like someone who was hiding out from the authorities. The reason the marshals were so good at finding fugitives was because they always made mistakes. Loved ones—parents, children, lovers—always drew fugitives to them. No one could completely isolate themselves, even shitbag scums of the earth. And more times than not, criminals were too arrogant for their own good. They sometimes flaunted their presence as a middle finger to the men who hunted them. Nick had gotten the finger before some bastard bailed out of a window to evade capture enough times to know. Livy, on the other hand, seemed to have closed herself off completely. Not as though she was lying low to avoid questioning. No, she behaved as if she hid from the entire world.

“If Frank were still alive, he'd never let you get away with calling me a mule.”

Nick's lips quirked in a dubious half smile. He didn't know what to make of her. She was either halfway to crazy or had the weirdest sense of humor of anyone he'd ever met. He scooped up the bags she'd dropped and grabbed two more from the back of the car. “Are you suggesting that if your shovel weren't broken you'd hit me with it?”

Livy took the remaining two bags and closed the hatchback. “Hey, all I'm sayin' is, you sneak up on a girl, you never know how she's going to react.”

Nick chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“How goes the vacation?” Livy wrangled her bags with one hand as she unlocked the door. “Doing anything vacation-y?”

Did poring over case files count? Nick couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do on his downtime. “Not really. Hanging out. Watching TV. Watching the snowfall.”
Watching you.

“If you want, I could get you a comp pass at the mountain.”

“Yeah, somehow I don't think skiing is like riding a bike. I'm not interested in wearing a full-body cast.”

“Want a refresher?”

He might have a better chance of learning more about her if he talked to the people she worked with. Though, if Livy was teaching little kids how to ski, he doubted the intel would be very reliable. “Do I look like I'd be comfortable in skis?”

“Honestly, you look like the pro-wrestler type to me,” Livy teased. She looked him over from head to toe, her hazel eyes burning with an intensity that Nick felt right in the center of his gut. “Maybe not. But definitely the football type. I don't think winter sports are your thing.”

“No,” he admitted. “They aren't.”

Her lids became hooded and she averted her gaze. “So, Nick Brady, what is your thing?”

* * *

Livy was as hard up as a Catholic schoolgirl on prom night. Not a day of the past week had gone by without her thinking of Nick. Maybe more than once. Fine, under fifteen but more than ten. This wasn't a good idea. She wasn't even sure she could trust him yet. She absolutely
shouldn't
be flirting with him. But since she was on the subject, was it working?

She chanced a glance at him from beneath lowered lashes. She'd never met a man who could look so delicious and so damned gruff at the same time. He was hard in the way that Joel and some of his guys were hard—as though he'd seen some truly horrible shit. His expression wasn't hollow or empty. More . . . determined. A fire burned bright in Nick Brady's soul. Too hot to quench. Did he love with the same determination and ferocity? A shiver raced across Livy's heated flesh.

“What's my thing?” He cupped the back of his neck, showcasing the corded muscles of his forearms and Livy fought the urge to bite down on her bottom lip. He was
killing
her with his unassuming sexy act.
Act
because there was no way in hell Nick didn't know that he was smoking hot. “Unsolved mysteries.”

“Like the TV show?”

“Sure. I like puzzles. Figuring things out.” He stopped abruptly and Livy suspected that there was more to it than the answer he gave her. “I go to work, I go home. Hit the gym so I don't fail the physical agility tests. That's about it. Try not to die from the excitement that is my life.”

Livy started to unload the groceries in an effort to keep from taking him to the floor in a full body tackle. Because picturing Nick as he lifted weights was making
her
sweat. “You've been here a week. Have you seen me throwing any ragers? At least you go to the gym. My life is so routine, it's a wonder my car can't get me from here to work on autopilot.”

She reached up on her tiptoes to stow the box of Kashi GOLEAN Crunch on a high shelf. Nick plucked the box from her grasp and set the box on the shelf with ease. The man was a freaking redwood! She really needed to keep someone with a little height on the payroll. She wondered if Nick might be interested in the position....

“There's nothing wrong with living simply.”

Or simply living
. She pursed her lips and met his gaze. “Says the
cop
.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Nick must have had a tendency to frighten people. Without trying, even a simple question came off with a hard edge. But rather than scare her, it drew Livy to him. Crazy, considering she was afraid of her own shadow.

“Nothing.” She reached past him to put a package of linguini in the cupboard. Her hand brushed the unyielding muscle of his bicep and her eyes drifted shut for the barest moment. Could she be more of a loser? Going all weak-kneed because her fingers made contact with bare skin. She wanted to call him crazy for wearing a short-sleeved shirt in the middle of a snowstorm, but now, Livy considered sneaking into his closet with a pair of scissors. “I meant that for someone whose job is twenty-four-seven excitement, I doubt you know much about what it's like to lead a dull, uneventful life.”

“Police work isn't always exciting.” He gave her a lopsided grin that she was pretty sure triggered her body into instant ovulation.
Bam!
“There are all kinds of paperwork and admin duties that are totally mind-numbing.”

“And that accounts for, what, ten percent of your workweek?”

“Sometimes more, sometimes less. It just depends on what's going on.” Nick reached out his hand and Livy handed him a half gallon of milk that he put in the fridge. “The thing is, you go to work and you pretty much know how your day is going to go. I go to work and anything can happen. I have to be ready for that. Some days are fucked-up. And those are the days that I don't want to do anything but go home and not think about a goddamned thing.”

Livy hadn't trusted the cops to help her when she'd needed them. Especially when half of the local authorities were getting kickbacks from Joel. Instead of going to someone for help, she'd run. Now, she was starting to think that her decision hadn't been fair to the people like Nick who took their jobs seriously. Maybe not everyone was on the take.

“What do you do to decompress?” From the looks of him, Nick hadn't hit the release valve in a
long
time. His jaw was practically welded shut, the muscle at his cheek ticking perpetually.

He shrugged a sheepish shoulder. God, she wanted to bite him there. Just sink her teeth into his flesh.
Whoa. Slow your roll, sister
. “I play
Call of Duty
.”

“You're kidding, right?” Livy deadpanned. “After a day of chasing bad guys and shooting at people, you go home and virtually chase bad guys and shoot at people?”

“When you put it that way . . .”

The glare of headlights shown through the kitchen window and the familiar and unwelcome rush of adrenaline dumped into Livy's system. Paralyzed by fear, her brain went completely blank and she couldn't force herself to take a breath, let alone move. Her cabin and the one Nick rented sat at the end of the lane, so it wasn't like anyone could simply be driving by. Who was it? What were they doing here?
Shit!