Playing With Fire (15 page)

“Hmm. Trying to keep up with all the ladies who were
competing for your man? Building a nice little divorce case to milk the wealthy
bastard for as much as you could get?”

“Damn you, Stryker!” Blake’s expression was as harsh as his
words.

Nate turned to Cassie, a barely concealed smile tugging at
the corner of his mouth.

“Please let the record show that the client’s attorney has
sunk to cursing. I understand that it is an affliction many ambulance chasers
experience when they are being outclassed by people they consider beneath them
— like cops.”

Erin broke in, interrupting Nate’s smug mistreatment of
Blake.

“I hired Simon to keep track of the men Dylan hired to
follow me, find me.”

Nate quirked an incredulous brow. “Your husband hired people
to follow you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he could.”

Nate frowned as if considering her answer. He studied her
for a moment.

“Is Bergner also the person who sold you your crappy
identification docs?”

“Yes.”

Erin met Nate’s gaze. When she refused to let his stare
intimidate her, he glanced down at his notes.

“Let’s see, my records show that in 28 months, you paid Mr.
Bergner a total of $57,000. Looks like you gave him extra money on several occasions.
Damn, those were expensive docs you bought, Erin.”

She refused to look away from his taunting smile. He
eyeballed her for a moment then frowned, rubbing at his chin as if trying to
remember a fact. Erin knew by now it was a purposeful gesture to distract her.
She braced for the next question.

“How’d you earn that money, Erin? That’s a
lot
of
scratch — for a woman on the run.”

Erin ignored his insulting description of her. She twisted
her hands in her lap, remembering the long days and nights, often working
twelve to fifteen-hour shifts, doing anything she could to make money.

“I mostly waitressed.”

“Phew! $57,000 is lot of money for ‘waitressing’…. You must
have provided excellent
service
. Did you get a lot tips, Erin?”

He let his eyes roam over her body.

“I’ll just bet ya did.”

Erin gasped. A wave of dizziness hit her. She bit down on
her lip to keep from crying out. Again she tasted blood. She saw a flash of
what looked like pain cross Nate’s face and he moved imperceptibly toward her,
his eyes blazing blacker than the stormiest night. Erin lurched away. She
couldn’t look at him. Ever. Again.

Blake leapt to his feet beside her, trembling with rage. He
bellowed to the startled reporter.

“Will you please indicate that the homicide detective who is
apparently heading up this
sham
investigation implied that Ms. McFadden
is a prostitute?!”

Nate sneered at him contemptuously.

“Come now, Richards. That says more about you than about me.
Are all the waitresses you know prostitutes, Richards? You might think about
broadening your choice of restaurants.”

Erin barely heard him. She clasped the table edge with both
hands and wrenched herself to standing.

Blake reached for her arm. His grip was tight. “Now are we
done, Erin?”

Erin shook off his hand and answered with as much dignity as
she could muster.

“Yes.”

Without speaking, she headed to the door. Blake followed
her. At the doorway, he stopped and pinned Nate with a fierce glare.

“You’re going to pay for this, Stryker. I swear to God, if
it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to have your badge.”

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their
receding footsteps in the hallway.

Charlie Hanson broke the silence with an appreciative
whistle.

“Damn, that was more entertaining than an Ali/Frazier match.
Count me in on the next one, Nate. I’ll bring the popcorn!”

Nate scowled and shook his head. He threw his notebook
across the table. Without speaking he strode out the door, slamming it hard
behind himself.

“It’s important, Erin. I need to see you, now. Where can we
meet?”

“Please, Connor. Can it wait? I… was just going for a run.
I’m not sure I can talk now.”

“Listen, Erin, Dan Coulter told me what happened at the
station. I need to talk with you. You are in way over your head, half pint, and
it’s not just because of that asshole cousin of mine. This isn’t a discussion,
Erin. It’s an order. If you want to run, fine. I’ll meet you at the rest stop
next to the reservoir in 45 minutes. Got it?”

Her sigh was pained.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

“And keep your phone with you.”

“I always do.”

~~~

Connor paced from one side of the path to the other, then
forced himself to sit at one of the picnic benches not visible from the road.
It wouldn’t help Erin if anyone saw her with him. It was getting hard to take a
shit without some damn reporter sticking his nose under the stall door. So far,
word about Erin hadn’t become public, but it was only a matter of time. Damn,
he really didn’t know how they were going to protect her. A gorgeous woman? The
prime suspect in a murder case? Christ, it would be wall-to-wall news on every
cable station in the country. He knew that Nate put a blackout on it at the
precinct, with certain dismissal to anyone who broke the news. To date, only
Nate’s closest officers knew of Erin’s involvement. Connor made sure that he
and Chief Halloran were the only people at the firehouse who knew that Erin was
on leave. They all thought she was sick. Hell, he hadn’t even told his parents.
The only person he’d confided in was Kaitlin.

At the sound of footsteps, he looked up to see Erin
approaching. Damn she was a beautiful woman. Hell, that would make her even
more of a story. Those vultures would crucify her. He stood up to greet her and
gave her a hug then pulled her over to the table.

“Thanks for meeting me, Erin.”

She smiled, the strain on her face softening for a brief
instant.

“I don’t think I had much of a choice, Connor.”

He gave her a slight smile but couldn’t keep anxiety from taking
over his expression and his voice.

“No you didn’t, Erin. Look, as I told you, Dan Coulter let
me in on what happened at the precinct today. I’m not even going to try to
apologize for my cousin. It’s a disgrace. But I want to talk to you about
Richards. I don’t think you’re getting good advice, Erin. I know this Richards
fellow is a lawyer and wants to help, but from what Dan said, he’s keeping you
from answering some important questions.”

Erin frowned. “Like what?”

“Like the single most important question. The one thing that
would help make sense out of this mess. And that is why you left your husband,
and why you were on the run for over two years.”

Erin’s frown deepened. “You’re right. That is one of the
things Blake wants us to keep to ourselves.”

“Why?”

“Because… because he thinks it will be a good way to make
sure that Nate isn’t out to get me. That he is doing a real investigation.”

Connor swiped his hands through his dark curly hair in
frustration.

“Fuck! That’s exactly what I’m concerned about. Look Erin, I
think Richards is as caught up in a pissing match with Nate as Nate is with
him. They’re baring their teeth and growling like two damn alpha males fighting
over their territory. Unfortunately, you’re the territory.”

“You’re wrong about that, Connor. Blake is a friend and… and
Nate despises me. And I despise him.”

“I won’t even try to explain my cousin. I will tell you
Erin, that Blake Richards, like every other single guy I know, and most of the
married ones, would give their left nut for a shot at that sensational booty of
yours.”

Erin closed her eyes to shut out the painful truth. As
though this hadn’t happened all her life.

“Like I said, I’m not gonna try and explain or understand my
cousin on this but just know that Blake Richards is a red flag waving in front
of an outraged bull pawing the ground.”

When she started to protest, Connor held up his hands.

“No more discussion. Erin. I’m sorry. I hate to be
arbitrary. But you gotta understand. On the surface it looks like you had
everything a woman could want. But then you left your husband in the dust. Now
the fucker is dead — burned up in a fire that you and I fought. Isn’t that just
a little weird? Now it appears you are better off with your husband dead than
alive. You are his sole heir. With him out of the way you have all the perks
and don’t have to deal with him. Do you see the picture that can be painted?”

Erin’s face settled into a mask. Only because Connor knew
her as well as he did could he see the pain underlying her stoic expression.

“Is that what you think, Connor?”

“Uh uh, Erin. I’m not going to let you do that. You know
damn
well
I don’t believe that. But if you don’t help me pretty damn soon, I may
be the last man standing.”

He took hold of her hand.

“One. More. Time. Why did you leave your husband, Erin?”

“If I tell you, will you tell anyone?”

“You mean, will I tell Nate? Probably. Yes.”

“Then, I’m not talking.”

“Erin, I can’t explain what’s going on with Nate. At least
not right now. And frankly, it doesn’t matter. This is too important.”

She tossed her head.

“You’re wasting your time, Connor. Blake is right. Nothing I
say will change what Nate thinks. It’s simple. Nate thinks I killed my husband.
And he thinks I did it for the money. He thinks I’m a tramp, a whore, a
prostitute and a liar. And by the way he is not the first person to think that
about me.”

Connor glared at her, not attempting to hide his
frustration.

“Even if Nate did think that, which he does not, that’s not
why I’m here. I’m here to ask you some important questions. And, Erin, I’m not
leaving until you answer them.”

Erin squinted at her hands. Connor didn’t speak, just
focused all his energy on her. He knew if he didn’t break through her shell, no
one else could. To his relief, she spoke.

“Because I couldn’t take the beatings anymore.”

“Your husband beat you?”

“Among other things.”

“How did you meet him, Erin?”

“You really want to hear it all, Connor? The whole sordid
story?”

“Yep, half pint. I do.”

She stared off into the trees as if she were looking for meaning
in what she was about to tell him.

“I was a stripper in a high-class Gentlemen’s Club. I was 17
years old. Dylan saw me and for some reason, he wanted me. And as I learned
very quickly, what Dylan wanted, Dylan took. I don’t think he knew then that I
was underage. I looked older. Amazing what you can do with makeup. Heck I look
younger now — six years later.”

Connor didn’t speak, afraid to break Erin’s train of
thought.

“He insisted that we run away that weekend and get married.
I didn’t understand it then, and I still don’t. Except that he was impulsive…
and compulsive. He also was extremely paranoid. I have since learned that those
characteristics often accompany genius. But I didn’t know that then. It quickly
went from bad to worse. He got fixated on the idea that I was a prostitute. I
wasn’t, I never had been, but he didn’t believe me. He called me all kinds of
horrible names in private and in public. It got so bad, I was afraid to go out
with him because of the awful things he would say about me to others. Whenever
he introduced me he would laugh and say he’d always wanted to marry a little
Irish whore, and here I was. I wasn’t a whore. I never sold myself for money.
Except… I guess that’s what I did when I married him.”

She hesitated and looked as though she might not continue.

Connor prodded gently.

“Were you a virgin when you married him?”

She snorted, a sound between a laugh and a sob.

“No, God no. That little piece of business was taken care of
much earlier. Long before I got married.”

Connor managed to stifle his groan. How much ‘longer ago’
could it be if she married when she was seventeen years old? If Erin saw his
distress, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“My stepfather had the honor of my first ‘experience,’ the
next ones were some of my mother’s boyfriends. Then, of course, there was the
cop in the back of his squad with his partner watching from the front seat. I
guess I was 15 then — maybe 14, it’s hard to remember.”

Connor couldn’t hold back a groan. Erin looked up as though
she’d forgotten he was there. Her expression was fierce.

“I know what you are thinking, but you’re wrong. I never got
paid for any of them! Ever!”

Connor tried to suck in a deeper breath but his chest was
clamped too tight.

“Oh honey, please. You
know
I’m not thinking that.
Damn, Erin, you’re breaking my heart.”

He held on to her hands and forced her to continue.

“When did the abuse start?’

“Pretty much as soon as we got married.”

She was thoughtful.

“I don’t know why — well, actually I do. From the beginning,
Dylan had issues performing, trouble being able to do it. When he couldn’t,
which was most of the time, he would hit me. Say it was my fault. Threaten me.

“At first I was just glad to have all the clothes, the
beautiful house on the ocean, the cars, the money. I got to eat every day, and
I didn’t have to strip. For a while it seemed like it was worth it. So what if
he got mad and hit me? Men had hit me all my life. At least now I had all those
other things.”

She was quiet, frowning slightly. Connor held his breath,
not knowing if he even wanted her to go on.

“Then a friend of mine introduced me to running. It was
crazy, Connor. It saved my life. I never did take drugs. Even though Nate
accused me of that in front of all those people today. But then, he also called
me a whore.”