anymore? Would you stay then?”
“It’s not you, Olivia,” Conor said, reaching out to touch her cheek with his fingertips. “It’s me. I can’t promise that I won’t kiss you again-or touch you. And if I can’t promise that, then I’m not a very good choice to guard you. I need to be able to keep my head on the job or we’re both at risk.”
“But I trust you,” Olivia said. “I don’t want anyone else.”
“The two guys they’re sending are good guys. I know them both and I wouldn’t let them stay with you if I wasn’t sure they’d keep you safe. But I want you to promise me that you won’t go climbing out of any windows or sending them after any more pets.”
Olivia’s gaze dropped to her lap. She studied her fingers for a long moment, then drew a ragged breath. “I don’t want you to go,” she repeated.
Conor hooked his finger beneath her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. The vulnerability had returned to her eyes and he fought the urge to kiss her again, to replace her sadness with passion. “Promise me?”
Reluctantly, she nodded. But Conor couldn’t leave it at that. He gave in to the impulse and leaned toward her to brush a soft kiss on her lips. One last kiss. What could it hurt? he mused. But if he thought it would be enough, he was sorely mistaken. The moment her lips opened beneath his, he was lost in the warmth of her mouth. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he pulled her into his arms.
The taste of her was like a drug, so addictive that he’d risk it all to experience it just once more. Women had always been a “take it or leave it” kind of thing for him. He’d never felt the kind of obsessive attraction he had for Olivia, when every thought was consumed with the question of when he might kiss her next and how far that kiss might go. His brain clouded with the fresh scent of her hair and the warm sensations of her tongue teasing his.
It took all his willpower to draw away. He stared down into her beautiful face and watched her eyes flutter open. “I want you to know that I lied on the phone. Kissing you isn’t difficult. It’s not kissing you that’s hard.”
A tremulous smile curved her lips. But her smile faded instantly as a knock sounded on the door of their room. She sent Conor a desperate look and he responded with a smile. “You’ll be all right. I promise.”
Conor stood, then reached out and helped Olivia to her feet. He moved to the door, Olivia’s hand still tucked in his. He wanted to hang on to her for as long as he could. Later tonight, when he was alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling above his bed, he’d want to remember how delicate her fingers felt and how sweet her voice sounded. He’d want to remember every second he had spent with her.
He carefully pulled back the curtain and saw Don Carlyle standing outside. Then he led Olivia to the bed where Tommy had curled up on one of the pillows. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll just be a minute.” Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and watched him walk to the door.
Conor stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He nodded a greeting to Carlyle. “What’s the plan?”
“We’ve got a place for her over in Framingham. Sampson is waiting in the car.” Carlyle cocked his head toward the door. “So what’s her problem? She have a thing for cops or is she just one of those women who’s happy with anything that wears pants?”
The anger was so instant and so intense that Conor didn’t think before he acted. In one swift movement, he brought his arm up and shoved Carlyle against the door, keeping him pinned there. Conor moved to within an inch of Carlyle’s face, then spoke in a low, even tone. “You make one move toward her, even look at her sideways, and I’ll reach down your throat and turn you inside out. Got it?”
Carlyle frowned. “Yeah. I got it. Geez, Quinn, what the hell is wrong with you? You’re the one who wanted out.”
“Just remember what I said.” Conor stepped back and Carlyle rubbed his chest. “She’s a lady. Treat her like one.”
Conor reached out and opened the door and Carlyle followed him inside. Olivia was in the same spot that he’d left her, perched on the edge of the bed, looking sad and vulnerable, hugging Tommy tightly to her chest. He crossed the room and gently took her arm. “Detective Carlyle is going to take you somewhere safe. If you need anything-” Conor smiled and leaned closer “-including underwear, you just ask. All right?”
He grabbed her coat from the bed, then held it out as she slipped into it. Then she gave Tommy a kiss and dropped him in the cardboard box. Carlyle looked at the box, then at Conor. “A cat? We can’t take a cat.”
Olivia’s eyes went wide. “But I-”
“I’ll take him,” Conor said. “He can stay with me and you can pick him up after the trial.” Though he hated the cat, he knew returning Tommy to his owner would give him one more chance to see Olivia, after all this was over and she was no longer a witness and he was no longer the cop assigned to protect her. A few weeks with Tommy the Terror was a small price to pay.
“You’d do that for me?” she asked.
Conor reached down and picked up the box. “Sure. By the time you come for him, we’ll be old friends.”
Olivia pushed up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then she grabbed her purse and walked to the door. Conor followed her, taking one last look around before stepping outside behind her and Carlyle, the box tucked under his arm.
The next thing he knew, the wood from the door splintered next to his head. He looked out into the parking lot and saw another muzzle flash and the plate-glass window of the motel room shattered. Holding tight to the box, he shoved Olivia aside, both of them falling onto the walkway in front of Dylan’s Mustang. “Stay here,” he said, shoving the box into her arms. “And keep your head down.”
Conor pulled his gun and peered around the side of the car. Carlyle was crouched beneath a rusted Pontiac, returning fire. From another spot in the parking lot, Sampson had pulled his gun and was taking aim. Conor crawled back to Olivia, then grabbed the box. “We’re going to get in the car,” he said. “Take the cat out of the box and hold on to him. Tuck him inside your jacket. We’ve got to do this quickly. Just stay low.”
Olivia did as she was told and they both crawled around to the passenger side. He opened the door and she got in, then Conor scrambled around the front of the car. But the driver’s side was in the line of fire and he knew he’d be taking a chance. Drawing a deep breath, he checked the clip in his gun, then shouted to Carlyle for cover fire.
He’d almost made it into the car when he felt a searing heat in his side, like someone had shoved a red hot poker between his ribs. The pain took his breath away and brought a wave of nausea.
Wincing with the pain, he yanked his door shut and shoved the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life and he threw it into reverse and backed out, pushing Olivia down in the seat with his right arm. Thankfully, Carlyle and Sampson kept Keenan’s men pinned down. They managed to target the tires of the black sedan parked near the entrance to the parking lot so there would be no way for the gunmen to give chase.
When they were well out of range, Conor glanced over at Olivia. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved silently, as if she were praying. Tommy stared up at him with luminous eyes, content to stay clutched in Olivia’s arms.
“We’re good,” he said.
Olivia gradually straightened in her seat, but didn’t loosen her hold on her cat. “How did they find us?” she asked.
“Someone in the department,” he replied. He turned and gave her an encouraging smile. “I guess we’re on our own now.” Another wave of nausea rolled over him and, for a moment, Conor had to fight to stay conscious. After nearly getting killed, the last thing he wanted was to run the car off the road. He pulled over onto the next side street and parked the car, then pressed his hand to his side. In the dim light from a streetlamp near the car, he saw the blood covering his fingers.
“I think you better drive,” Conor murmured, suddenly exhausted by the effort that it took to move. He was going into shock and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep his eyes open.
“Me? But why?”
“Just slide over,” he ordered, pushing open the car door and stepping outside. It took every ounce of his effort to walk around the front of the car without keeling over. His legs felt like rubber and he was suddenly shivering for no reason. When he got back inside the car, he closed his eyes and focused on getting through a spasm of pain.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
