Page 52 of Armed ’N’ Ready

“That’s a relief.” She looked gratefully at Kade and was rewarded with a full-fledged smile that not only emphasized his adorable dimples but how incredibly handsome the man was.

She yawned, wishing she could fall asleep and pretend this night had never happened. “We’re going to bed. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Matt said. “Let us know if you need anything.”

She helped Stray climb the stairs then settle onto another dog bed in a corner of the bedroom. “Sleep well, girl.” The dog lowered her head and uttered a throaty sigh.

Andi fell into bed fully clothed. Despite how tired she was, sleep didn’t come easily.

Stuffing an extra pillow beneath her head, she gazed out the window at the stars. It was nearly three in the morning. Venus stood guard over the peaceful, shimmering lake. While she was resting safely in her bed, Nick and other officers were tracking down the dangerous people who’d orchestrated her kidnapping. As much as she’d been worrying about Joe these last weeks, now she worried for Nick. Maybe more so.

She’d been given rare insight into what it must be like as a police officer’s spouse or partner. You’d have to be willing to accept—and mentally capable of accepting—that person had the ability and authority to kill when necessary. And that they could be killed in the line of duty.

Do I have what it takes?

Lying there in the darkness, she didn’t know quite what she felt for Nick. Somewhere along the line, annoyance had turned into respect, and she’d begun to like him. Then like had morphed into caring with something else thrown in—desire. God, how she wanted him to make love to her. But her feelings ran far deeper.

Fear curled in her belly. If anything happened to him…if he were killed…he would take a piece of her heart with him.

How much of her heart was too frightening to contemplate.

Chapter Twelve

Nick cuffed the gang member—Jose Matteo—to the metal chair in one of the barracks’ interrogation rooms. Three doors down, Eric was busy with Matteo’s partner-in-crime—Sonny Luther.

Matteo was a pathetic twenty-year-old, about five-foot-six, and a little chubby around the waistline. The entire right side of his face was turning purple from where Nick had smashed his fist into it. The sonofabitch had gotten off easy. If he hadn’t knocked Matteo out cold, he would gladly have pummeled the rest of the guy’s face to a bloody pulp for hurting Andi. He’d wanted to kill the guy ten times over then get to work on his buddy two doors down. But he needed them alive so they could talk, and talk fast.

Given that the third asshole had gotten away, it wouldn’t be long before some shifty attorney showed up to represent the two men. After that, it would be too late, and the attorney would shut his clients down. Professionalism and the monitor in the corner of the ceiling held him in check. Everything that went down would be done right and recorded for posterity.

He sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms, staring down at Matteo. Exercising sound tactics, he said nothing. Eventually, the little shit would start squirming.

Matteo leaned back, sending Nick his best defiant, punk-ass look. Won’t work. He’d seen far too many young men and women absorbed by the gang system who’d been taught to act tough. The truth was that inside they were all scared, needing to take advantage of a gang’s pack mentality in order to feel like they belonged.

At first, Matteo maintained eye contact. Then Nick glimpsed the telltale signs of weakening.

Sweat broke out on the kid’s upper lip. He grabbed both sides of the seat and began to squirm. A few seconds later, Matteo broke eye contact and looked away. When he looked back, he lost it.

“Quit fucking staring at me.”

“I’m making you nervous.” He knew he was.

“Fuck no.”

“Then it shouldn’t matter if I stare at you.”

He was careful not to ask questions. Matteo had been read his rights and claimed he wanted a lawyer. It was up to Nick to convince him otherwise. Without asking any questions.

“I ain’t talkin’, and you know it. So why am I here?”

Gotcha.

“Kidnapping. Assault. Unlawful possession of a switchblade. Unlawful possession of a firearm. Conspiracy. Resisting arrest. And my personal favorite—assault on a police officer.”

Matteo leaned forward. “Didn’t know you were a cop at first.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll still be charged for that.”

Matteo swore again. “That ain’t fair.”