A Thin Dark Line

'You have to realize that's a good thing. But you're not paying attention. You act first and think later.'

'Look who's talking.'

She pressed the cold cloth to one cheek, then the other. He looked concerned rather than contrite. She would have been better off with the latter. She was safer thinking of him as a mentor than pondering the meaning of these odd moments when he seemed to be something else.

'Me, I always think first, chere. My logic is occasionally flawed, that's all,' he said. 'How you doing? You okay?'

He leaned forward and pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. His knee brushed against her thigh, and in spite of everything Annie felt a subtle charge of electricity.

'Sure. I'm swell. Thanks.'

She pushed to her feet and went to the sink to brush her teeth.

'So, who wants you dead?'

'I don't know,' she mumbled through a mouthful of foam.

'Sure you do. You just haven't put the pieces together yet.'

She spat in the sink and glared at him out the corner of her eye. 'God, that's annoying.'

'Who might want you dead? Use your head.'

Annie wiped her mouth. 'You know, unlike you, I don't have a past chock-full of psychopaths and thugs.'

'Your past isn't the issue,' he said, following her to the living room. 'What about that deputy-Mullen?'

'Mullen wants me off the job. I can't believe he'd try to kill me.'

'Push any man far enough, you don't know what he might do.'

'Is that the voice of experience?' she said caustically, wanting to lash out at somebody. Maybe if she took a few swipes at him she would be able to reestablish the boundaries that had blurred last night.

She paced the length of the alligator coffee table, nervous energy rising in a new wave. 'What about you, Nick? I got you arrested. You could go down for a felony. Maybe you don't think you've got anything to lose getting rid of the only witness.'

'I don't own a Cadillac,' he said, his face stony.

'I gotta figure if you'd try to kill somebody, you probably wouldn't have any moral problem with stealing a car.'

'Stop it.'

'Why? You want me to use my head. You want me to be objective.'

'So use your head. I was here waiting for you.'

'I came up the levee. It's slower going. You could have ditched the Caddy and beat it over here in your truck.'

'You're pissing me off, Broussard.'

'Yeah? Well, I guess I do that to people. It's probably a wonder someone didn't kill me a long time ago.'

He caught hold of her arm, and Annie jerked out of his grasp, tears stinging her eyes.

'Don't touch me!' she snapped. 'I never said you could touch me! I don't know what you want from me. I don't know why you dragged me into this-'

'I didn't drag you. We're partners.'

'Oh, yeah? Well, partner, why don't you tell me again why you went to Renard's home Saturday? Were you scoping out a good sniper's vantage point?'

'You think I took that shot?' he said, incredulous. 'If I wanted Renard dead, sugar, he'd be in hell by now.'

'Yeah, I know. I kind of interrupted that send-off once already.'

'C'est assez!' he ordered, catching hold of her by both arms this time, hauling her up close.

'What're you gonna do, Nick? Beat me up?'

'What the hell's the matter with you?' he demanded. 'Why are you busting my balls here? I didn't touch Renard Saturday, I didn't take a shot at him tonight, and I sure as hell didn't try to kill you!'

He wanted to shake her, he wanted to kiss her, anger and sexual aggression bleeding together in a dangerous mix. He forced himself to stand her back from him and walk away.

'If we're partners, we're partners,' he said. 'That means trust. You have to trust me, 'Toinette. More than you trust a damn killer, for Christ's sake.'

He was amazed at the words that had come out of his mouth. He had never wanted a partner on the job, he didn't waste time trusting people. He wasn't even sure why he was angry with her. Her argument was logical. Of course she should consider him a suspect.

Annie blew out a breath. 'I don't know what to believe.

I don't know who to believe. I never thought this would be so damn hard! I feel like I'm lost in a house of mirrors. I feel like I'm drowning. Someone tried to kill me! That doesn't happen to me every day. I'm sorry if I'm not reacting like an old pro.'

They stood across the length of the room from each other. Whether it was the distance or the moment, she looked small and fragile. Nick felt a strange stirring of compassion, and an unwelcome twinge of guilt. He had doubted her motives from the start, questioned the source of her interest in the Bichon case, when she was exactly what she appeared to be: a good cop who wanted to be better, who wanted to find justice for a victim. Simple and straightforward, no ulterior motives, no hidden agenda.

'It wasn't me, 'Toinette,' he murmured, closing the distance between them. 'I don't think you believe that it was. You just don't wanna think more than one person in this world might want you gone from it, out? You don't wanna dig in that hole, do you, chere?'

'No,' she whispered as the fight drained out of her. She shut her eyes as if she could wish it all away. 'God, the things I get myself into.'

'You're in this case for good reason,' he said. 'It's your challenge, your obligation. You're in over your head, but you know how to swim-suck in a breath and start kicking.'

'Right now, I'd rather climb out of the water, thanks anyway.'

'No. Seek the truth, 'Toinette. In all things, seek the truth. In the case. In me. In yourself. You're not a child and you're nobody's pawn. You proved that when you stopped me from pounding Renard into the here-fucking- after. You're in this case because you want to be. You'll stick it out because you know you have to. Hang on. Hang tough.'

He raised a hand and touched her cheek, stroked his fingertips down her jaw. 'You're stronger than you know.'

'I'm scared, that's what I am,' she whispered. 'I hate being scared. It pisses me off.'

Annie told herself to turn away from his touch, but she couldn't make herself do it. His show of tenderness was too unexpected and too needed. He was too strong and too near.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'I was scared I'd lose my job. That was bad enough. Now I have to be scared I'll lose my life.'

'And you're scared of me,' he said, his fingers curling beneath her chin.

She looked up at him, at the battered face, at the eyes bright with the intensity that burned inside him. She had told him just last night that he frightened her, but the fear wasn't of him.

'No,' she said softly. 'Not that way. I don't believe you were in that car. I don't believe you took that shot. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.'

She murmured the words again and again as the trembling came back.

His embrace seemed to swallow her up. He stroked a hand over her hair and down her back. He kissed the side of her neck, her cheek. Blindly, she turned her mouth into his, and he kissed her with the kind of heat that flared instantly out of control.

She opened her mouth beneath his and felt a wild rush as his tongue touched hers. She ached and trembled with the sensations of life, too aware she could have been dead. Heat blushed just beneath her skin and pooled thick and liquid between her legs. She could taste the need-his and her own. She could feel it, wanted to give in to it and obliterate everything else from her mind. She didn't want thought or reason or logic. She wanted Fourcade.

His hands slipped beneath her T-shirt and skimmed up her back. The shirt came off as they sank to their knees on the rug. He discarded his own between kisses. They came together, fevered skin to fevered skin, mouths