At Any Cost (10 page)

The cat blinked slowly at her before he brought one paw up to his mouth to lick. The little bastard had effectively ruined Nick's night and he seemed pretty goddamned pleased about it, too. No way would Nick be able to salvage it, not with Livy as shaken up as she was.

She might've settled down, but she was hardly at ease. Nick put his lips to the top of her head as though it was the most natural thing to do. “Want me to check outside, make sure all of the windows are locked?”

She nodded.

“Why don't you take Simon upstairs? I'll come up when I'm done.”

Another nod answered him. Livy's steps were mechanical as she walked to the counter—careful to avoid the shards of glass—and scooped Simon up in her arms. She cast Nick a nervous glance as she walked past him, through the dining room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

If any of Livy's irrational fears had to do with Joel Meecum, Nick was going to make the fucker pay.

He retrieved his shirt from the living room and slipped it on along with his boots to check the perimeter of the house. Then, after every window was checked and the back door as well, Nick locked the front door, cleaned up the broken glass, and headed up the stairs to Livy's bedroom. She lay on the bed, back toward him, her legs tucked into her body. Simon—that jealous little SOB—lay at the foot of the bed. His rumbling purr was the only sound in the room and he wondered if Livy had fallen asleep.

“Hey.” He settled himself on the bed beside her. “You okay?”

“God, I'm such a chickenshit,” she choked out. Nick sensed that she might have been trying to hold back a flood of tears. “You must think I'm an idiot.”

He thought a lot of things about Livy. She was sexy, smart, funny. Caring and tough. Never once had Nick considered her an idiot. “You got spooked. Like you said, you live out in the middle of nowhere and you don't have many neighbors. It's important to listen to your instincts. It doesn't make you an idiot or a coward or anything else. It makes you smart.”

Livy turned to face him. A bitter smile curved her lips and red rimmed her eyes. “Is that your standard-issue cop pep talk for single women?”

“It's the truth,” Nick said. “Don't ever apologize for being afraid. Sometimes, fear is what keeps you alive.”

Livy averted her gaze. “I ruined tonight. I'm sorry.”

“What did I tell you?” Nick said. “Don't apologize. You didn't ruin anything. Maybe we ought to call it a night, though. It's getting late.”

He turned to leave and the plea in her voice snapped out at him like a whip. “Nick, don't go! Please.” Nick looked back over his shoulder to find her brow puckered, her lips a thin line. “Would”—she swallowed—“would you maybe stay the night?”

“Sure.” Nick couldn't leave her like this any more than he could leave one of his own limbs behind. Livy needed him and he was going to be there to give her whatever she needed. He kicked off his boots, toed off his socks, and shucked his pants and shirt. He kept his underwear on—no matter how much he wanted to be naked with her in that bed, it wasn't what this was about. Livy wanted to be comforted. To feel safe. Livy kept her back to him as she reached into the dresser by the bed and traded her long-sleeved shirt for a T-shirt. She turned down the covers and he crawled into bed beside her, gathering her in his arms.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said as she reached over and turned off the light on the bedside table. “About anything. You can trust me, Livy.”

“My dad.” Livy's voice pierced the quiet as she snuggled in close to Nick. “He and my mom were never married and he wasn't around much. I guess I've always been a little spooked. I slept with a night-light until I was seventeen,” she added with a rueful laugh. “My mom worked two jobs, sometimes late, and I was home alone a lot.”

“That's scary for a kid,” Nick replied.

“Yeah.” A slow, exhausted sigh escaped from between Livy's lips. She wrapped her arms around Nick's and pressed her back tight against him. “I feel safe with you. Thanks for staying with me.”

A knot formed in Nick's throat and he swallowed it down. Had there ever been a man in Livy's life who hadn't let her down? Hadn't frightened or abandoned her? Nick vowed as he held her close that he wasn't going to be one of them. He hoped like hell he'd be able to keep that promise.

Chapter Ten

Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and let out a gust of breath. Livy had trusted him last night. Probably more than she'd trusted anyone in a long goddamned time. And he was about to repay that trust by betraying it. She thought he was a good guy? If she knew why he was really in McCall, Idaho, she'd change her tune pretty damned quick.

Nick had never felt so
dirty
. He'd always pushed the boundaries in the line of duty. Gone the extra mile to make sure that justice was served. Arresting Joel Meecum was about more than a feather in his cap. It was about making sure that the son of a bitch never had the opportunity to harm another person ever again. And that included Livy. He didn't know how she'd ended up being the girlfriend of one of the most notorious criminals in USMS history and he didn't care. Livy's anxiety and fear was enough to tell Nick that whatever Joel had done to her, it had been bad. And that fucker was going to pay for it.

Jesus. Listen to yourself!
Nick braced his arms on the countertop and let his head fall between his shoulders. He didn't know for sure that it was Joel Livy was afraid of. Hell, she was on the run! Every little noise might have scared the shit out of her because she worried that law enforcement was about to knock down her door or throw gas canisters through her window. Nick gave the reason for her fear that
he wanted
. Not because it was the most logical conclusion, but because it made it easier to justify his tender feelings for her. It justified his wanting to protect her.

It justified all of the dirty things he'd said and done to her last night.

Nick let out a gust of breath. He couldn't get the image of her almost naked body out of his mind or the sweet sounds she made when he touched her. Every heated word he'd spoken in her ear had been one hundred percent true. He'd have followed through on every filthy promise he'd made, too, if Simon hadn't intervened in a fit of jealous feline rage. Nothing—not his honor, his sense of justice, his own high standards and morals—would've gotten in his way. He wanted Livy. Wanted her more than any woman he'd ever met. Last night wasn't a onetime deal. It would happen again and Nick knew he wouldn't do anything to stop it.

He needed to get this shit wrapped up before he lost not only his mind, but also the last shred of his dignity and honor. If he was lucky, he'd get a bead on Meecum, make an arrest, and all would be forgiven by his chief deputy. At worst, he'd go home empty-handed and be out of a job. Because Nick realized that there was no way he could do this alone. He didn't have the resources to investigate Livy. A Google search sure as hell wasn't going to cut it.

After a few deep breaths to calm himself the hell down, Nick grabbed his mug and headed for the kitchen table. He stared at the notes he'd compiled since coming to McCall that were scattered beside Meecum's file. It wasn't calling Morgan that had his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins. And it sure as hell wasn't the prospect of facing the deputy chief's anger that tied his stomach into an unyielding knot. Rather, it was what he might find out about Livy that rattled Nick to his foundation. The prospect of learning the truth about her, of shattering the illusion he'd bought into, scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

He spun his phone on the table's surface. Fiddled with his paperwork and gathered his notebooks. Lined up his pens and pencils in a row.

Gut-check time. He couldn't worry about what Livy was or wasn't. He couldn't bother himself with trying to unravel her motives for running when he knew nothing about them. A good investigator got answers by following leads, shaking the bushes, and getting down to business. That's what he had to do now. Put his personal feelings aside and focus on the J-O-B. If he couldn't do that, he wasn't worthy of a U.S. marshal's badge.

He snatched his phone from the table and dialed Morgan's number. His gut churned with acid that burned a path up his throat. He'd accept the consequences of his actions. Whether with Morgan, his chief, or Livy. He just hoped he wouldn't lose everything that meant something to him in the process.

“Are you calling to 'fess up about my file, Brady?”

The guy got to the point, Nick would give him that. “I have a solid lead on Meecum.” Morgan knew he had the file; Nick didn't see any reason to verbally confirm it. “But I don't have the resources that I need to follow it.” He didn't think it would be so hard to admit he needed help. Nick had always been more comfortable flying solo. As a SWAT sniper, there were moments when there was nothing but him, his rifle, and the voice of the men on the ground in his ear. He'd been a part of the team, but not. The only thing he missed about that job was those moments in his own headspace. If he worked alone, he had no one to blame for his failure but himself. It made the job easier, somehow. The tightly knit team of the USMS took some getting used to. He wondered if he'd ever feel comfortable in the huddle rather than outside of it. The only thing worse than a criminal evading capture was failing someone who counted on him. He swallowed down his pride and said, “I need your help.”

“Ho-ly shit. I never thought I'd see the day that Nick Brady asked for help.” Nick clamped his jaw down to keep from saying something he'd regret. “Metcalf is going to have your ass over this, you know that, right?”

Nick let out a slow breath. “Only if you tell him.”

Morgan waited a beat before he responded, “Why shouldn't I?”

“Because you want Meecum as badly as I do,” Nick said. “Because you know as well as I do that the only place that bastard deserves to be is a six-by-six cell. And because you know you'll get half the credit for bringing down one of the top fifteen most wanted.”

“Only half of the credit?” Morgan asked.

“You're lucky I'm offering that much.”

Another space of silence stretched through the receiver and Nick wondered if Morgan had started to fill out his discharge papers. He cursed under his breath a moment later and Nick punched his fist in celebration. “What do you need from me?”

Nick's elation took a nosedive and plummeted to the soles of his feet. If he let Morgan in on what he'd learned so far, he'd be giving Livy up. That's how someone on the other side of the law thought, though. He wasn't betraying her trust. She hadn't revealed any dark secrets to him. As far as anyone was concerned, she was merely a person of interest in an investigation. If Livy was scared of Meecum, he could protect her. But not until he knew everything there was to know about her. And since there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that she'd supply the information herself, Nick had to go after the truth the only way he knew how.

“You remember Lonnie Chapman, the informant who said he had information on Meecum's ex?”

“Yeah,” Morgan answered slowly. “But since I don't have my file in front of me, I'm not sure what her name was.”

Nick ignored the accusation in his tone. He'd get over it. “Kari Hanson,” he said.

“Right,” Morgan said. “Didn't he say he'd run into her somewhere in Idaho? Going by a new name?”

“Yeah.” Nick's gut burned. He would have preferred it was the start of an ulcer than the guilt at revealing Livy's identity to Morgan. “Olivia Gallagher. Livy.”

“That lead dead-ended, though. We couldn't find anything on Kari Hanson or Olivia Gallagher or anyone else that fit the description.”

True, and Nick still had no idea why. “I don't think Hanson is her real last name. Or she hadn't been going by Hanson for long when she disappeared.”

“An alias?”

Nick flipped through his notes. What he knew about Livy wouldn't fill a teaspoon but he hoped it would be enough to find something useful. “I don't think so. Not exactly.”

“You're gonna have to spell it out for me, Nick. I'm not a fucking mind reader.”

Could Morgan sense his reluctance to give up what he knew about Livy? “I think she might have been going by her mother's maiden name when she met Meecum.”

The tiny bits of Livy's life that she'd shared with Nick might have seemed superficial but he knew they'd been deeply personal. She hadn't mentioned her father when she told Nick about her celebration dinner. Just her mom. No one showered her with gifts and she talked about ski racing in a way that made him think she not only loved it, but someone had sacrificed to make sure she could continue to do it. She'd confirmed his suspicions last night when she admitted her parents hadn't been married and that her dad had been scarce.

“I'm pretty sure Kari Hanson's dad wasn't in the picture.” No need to let Morgan know just how sure he was. “I think she changed her name because her mother had been her sole source of support.”

“That still doesn't get us any closer to identifying her,” Morgan said.

“She was a junior division ski racer.” The words left Nick's lips with a reluctance that tugged from his chest. “Lake Tahoe area. This would have been six or seven years ago. We should be able to search for competitors with the first name Kari and see if we get a hit.”

“It's a long shot,” Morgan replied. “But if she was a junior racer six years ago, that wouldn't make her very old now, would it? We put Meecum's ex at about forty-five.”

That had been the assumption, but they'd been way off base. “Try twenty-five.”

“Jesus,” Morgan said with disgust.

Yeah, Nick's sentiment exactly.

“Where are you, Brady?”

That was one thing Nick wasn't willing to tell him. If Morgan knew he was already in McCall and had a
very
solid lead on Kari Hanson, there would be a convergence of marshals on the small town in a matter of hours. It was still too soon for that sort of action. Livy was spooked and Nick had a feeling she was planning to run again. He couldn't let that happen.

“I'm following a lead,” he said.

“That's not exactly helpful.”

Nick's ears perked to the sound of Livy's car coming down the lane. “Gotta go,” he said. “I'll keep you posted. Let me know if you find anything out.”

Morgan grumbled on the other end of the line, something about him being an uncooperative SOB, but Nick didn't pay it any mind as he ended the call. The acidic burn churned up in his gut as he stared out the kitchen window at Livy's car. He hoped she'd understand that everything he'd set into motion was just as much to protect her as it was to take down Meecum. Then again, what if all of his good intentions only managed to protect someone who was just as guilty as the bastard he was trying to take down? Nick wasn't sure that was a truth he'd be able to stomach. He said a silent prayer that everything he thought and felt about Livy was right.

* * *

Livy glanced through her rearview mirror at Nick's house. She really needed to stop thinking of it that way. It wasn't his house. In a few weeks, it would be empty again and she'd be alone.

A twinge of pain radiated from Livy's knee and she stretched it out as best she could in the cramped interior of her car. She still ached from her epic yard sale on Alpine that had sent her skis and poles flying in the crash. Last night's heated moments with Nick had been on her mind all day and had managed to drive her to the point of distraction. She'd taken the steep run at the end of the day hoping that the thrill of speed and the cold wind in her face would clear her mind. Obviously it was going to take more than a trip down a big-girl run to get Nick off her mind. Either that or she was seriously losing her edge.

A sigh slipped from between her lips as she shifted her focus to the snow falling softly outside the window. She'd expected so much more from her life. Maybe a couple of world titles, an Olympic medal or two. Instead, she lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere and taught tiny little kids when to make their skis like French fries and when to make them like a pizza wedge. She liked the kids. Her job wasn't tedious. But she'd wanted so much
more
. Livy's chest ached with unspent emotion and she brought her hand to her sternum in a futile attempt to rub the pain away. The death of her dream left a nasty scar, even though she'd sacrificed it for a good reason.

The sound of Nick's front door closing drew Livy's attention back to the rearview mirror. She watched as he strolled across the deck and crossed the lane with a slow, rolling gait that caused Livy's breath to hitch. How he could pull it off while wading through the snow was a mystery to her. He was as sleek and powerful as a snow leopard. As though he'd been born to negotiate the drifts with ease.

He would have made a fantastic slalom racer.

Livy's heart rate kicked into high gear. Her own stupid fear and anxiety had interrupted what she was sure would have been a night to remember. Hell, it was already etched permanently in her memory and they'd stopped before they really had the opportunity to get started. A thrill shot through her veins as she recalled the way his bare hands felt on her skin, the heat of his mouth as it moved over hers. His fingers as they circled her nipple, his lips as they'd sealed over her breast. And,
oh God
, the absolutely naughty things he'd whispered in her ear. Livy played them over and over again in her mind and each time she did, a thrill chased through her bloodstream.

A rush of breath left her lungs and heat rose to Livy's cheeks. She got out of the car in the hopes that the winter air would help to cool her raging lust before Nick saw the evidence of it painted on her face. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting and the starch melted from Livy's spine. He made her so hot she was surprised she wasn't standing in a puddle of water right now and not a pile of snow.