Illegal Motion: A Loveswept Classic Romance (18 page)

Eric’s eyes gleamed brighter and Willa swore she heard a snarling sound from Nick. Whether sensing a close brush with death or merely changing tactics, Eric dropped her arm.

“Fine, have it your way.” Eric moved casually to the other side of the room. A small contented smile played across his face as he glanced at the bookshelves.

“From now on I intend to.” Nick pulled Willa to his side and wrapped his arm around her waist. “You never did answer the lady. Why me? Surely you had a better reason than my supposedly expendable talents?”

Eric laughed and turned to face them. “Actually, Logan, I guess you could say you were born to the wrong parents.”

“What in the hell do they have to do with this?”

“Nothing.” He chuckled as if vastly amused by his private joke. “You see, I didn’t care who it was. I picked the next guy on the list that tested clean. Logan comes right before Miller, so by virtue of your last name, you won.”

Willa tore out of Nick’s grasp and stormed across the room. Jabbing a finger in Eric’s chest, she said, “You mean to tell me that you wasted a
man’s career and his life because he was the most
convenient
alphabetically?”

In a soft voice filled with menace, Nick said, “Willa, come back here. I appreciate your defense, but I want to handle this.” Willa grudgingly seated herself on the couch, out of harm’s way, and Nick turned to Miller. “You smug, arrogant son of a bitch. What in the hell were you going to do the next year? Doc’s retired. Willa’s onto your game. How is a dopehead like you going to pass the next test? Assuming they don’t drop you first.”

Eric smiled as if Nick was a little slow on the uptake. “That’s just it, Logan. There won’t be a next time. I don’t need the NFL or those backstabbing coaches. So I like to snort a little to help me relax, it doesn’t make me an addict. Besides, that’s not why I’m retiring.”

“Retiring?” Willa and Nick spoke as one.

“Surprised? You shouldn’t be. When are you going to realize that I’m one step ahead of all of you? I figure the networks can’t wait to offer me a nice cushy commentary job. Between that and my little sideline with Willa, I’ll be set. I’ll go out on top. Why risk this pretty face for another season of being a tackling dummy?”

“You’re more messed up than I thought if you
still think I’m going into any business with you—legal or not.”

Eric seemed very pleased by her outburst. Chuckling, he turned back to the bookshelf, pulling out one of the less dusty volumes. A small white packet slid neatly into his palm. He dangled it between his fingers like a hypnotizing pendant. “This is why, my dear. I doubt the manager of one of the country’s finest training facilities is going to risk having the media find out about her sizable drug habit.”

Willa was mute with surprise. Eric turned his condescending grin on Nick. “And as far as relating this evening’s discussions to the media, I wouldn’t advise it. It will be your word against mine, and we all know how much your word is worth these days.” He walked over to the table, dropping the packet on it before sitting on the couch and patting the place next to him as he had earlier. “Now be a good girl, Willa, and tell Mr. Logan to leave. We have business to discuss.”

Nick glanced away from the window, apparently the only one to notice the trail of headlights parading down Willa’s drive. He returned Eric’s smile, looking every bit as confident. “I guess we’ll find out who believes what real soon.”

Willa swung her gaze back and forth between the two men. Her head was still spinning from
Eric’s threats and she couldn’t comprehend why they were both strutting around like playground braggarts instead of beating the living hell out of each other. Then she remembered.

Leaping up, she quickly ran across the room, grabbing her purse off the table, frantically digging in it to no avail until she forced herself to calm down. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she finally located the cool metal recorder.
Please God, let it be working
.

It was! She shouted in delight and swung around to tell Nick when the front door burst open and Sky strolled in followed by the largest black man Willa had ever seen. It wasn’t until the giant moved into the room that she noticed there were several policemen behind him.

In a deep rumbling bass the giant said, “Hello, folks, I’m Detective Frank Boxleitner.” He flipped open his wallet. “DEA. And these gentlemen”—he gestured to the men behind him—“are from the sheriff’s department.”

Before the detective could continue, Eric leaped off the couch and moved to his side. “Hello, sir,” he gushed, reaching to shake his hand. “Thank God you’ve come.” He swung an accusing finger at Nick and Willa. “These two people have brought me here under false pretenses. This is Nick Logan and Willa Trask.
They were trying to sell me drugs.” He ran to the table and scooped up the packet, almost flinging it at the large man. “See? I’m sure you remember Mr. Logan from his recent drug trial. Well, I’m sure glad you arrived when you did.”

Willa was trying to figure out why Nick wasn’t heatedly denying Eric’s story when he strolled to the mantel and lifted the old clock, peeling a packet off the bottom. Eric’s face went deathly pale.

“Box, nice to see you again. Here.” Nick tossed the packet to him. “I think if you’ll taste this, you’ll find that the only thing Miss Trask has stashed is sugar.”

Eric snatched the bag out of the air, his face contorted in anger as he realized he’d been had. Willa dazedly tried to put everything that had happened into some kind of order. Clenching her hands in frustration, she remembered the recorder. She gave it to the large detective. “Detective, I think if you’ll listen to this, it’ll explain everything.”

Willa turned to Nick with a triumphant smile, fully expecting he’d drag her back into his arms and reward her with kisses of approval and admiration. Instead she encountered a sudden fierceness, then in the next second he was launching himself at her. It was only because she ducked
instinctively that Eric’s desperate lunge for her came up short. A split second later he was smashed to the floor with a loud thump as Nick hit the target of his flying tackle.

The police had been a little slow to respond to the sudden burst of action, but now they hurried to pull Nick off Eric, only releasing him when he promised to calm down.

He immediately hobbled over to Willa, cupping her cheek. “You okay? I couldn’t warn you, but you have great instincts, you know. Must be in the genes.” He pressed a hard kiss on her lips, so relieved she was okay that he misread her stiff posture as shock over nearly being tackled. He thought about kicking everyone out and taking her upstairs, but Sky tapped his shoulder and he reluctantly lifted his head.

“Box’d like to talk to each of you separately if you’re ready to give your statements. They’ve previewed enough of the tape to warrant taking Miller in for questioning.” Grinning broadly, Sky hauled Nick into a tight bear hug. “We did it, man. We nailed the bastard.”

Nick responded with a fierce hug of his own, then stumbled slightly when Sky released him. He immediately doubled over and grabbed his knee.

Willa responded immediately to his groan of
pain. She knelt and probed around his knee, then gently pushed him into a sitting position on the floor.

He looked up into her worry-filled eyes, a cocky smile creasing his face. “Thanks, Princess.” He pulled her head close and kissed her again, briefly but thoroughly. “You did it. You saved me. Now let me up so I can tell these guys what they need to know. I want to talk to you and we’re wasting time.”

Willa fought hard, barely resisting the temptation to touch Nick, to run her hands all over his body, reassure herself that things would be all right. But the nagging suspicion that things weren’t what they seemed was too overwhelming to ignore. Thinking was impossible, so she fell back on her professional training and focused all her thoughts on Nick’s reinjured knee.

Looking up, she said, “Sky, can you go in the kitchen and get some ice?” When Nick started to rise, she pushed him back down with one-hand without turning. “We need to put something on this before it swells to the size of a grapefruit.”

“Don’t move, Nick. You can talk to the police later.”

And then you can answer a few questions of mine
, she added silently.
Like how did you know about the phony drugs planted in my house and why in the hell
were you conveniently here when Miller showed up?
As if floodgates had opened, one inconsistency after another rushed into her mind. She jumped when a policeman tapped her shoulder.

“They’re ready for you now, Miss Trask.” His tone was polite but firm. She needed some time and space and quashed the desire to have it out with Nick here and now. Besides, she was too strung out to mount any kind of interrogation and she was too damned scared that she already knew what his answers would be.

Sky had already gathered ice and towels, and with events happening so quickly she didn’t stop to wonder how he’d known where to find everything. “Make sure he stays here until his knee is well iced, Sky. Get your detective friend to sit on him if necessary.” Sky nodded and with supreme effort she avoided Nick’s heated gaze and followed the officer into the dining room.

TEN

It was almost daylight before Willa finally tumbled, completely exhausted, into bed. Her questioning had lasted a long time, during which Sky had convinced Nick he needed to go to the hospital to have his knee examined. They were leaving just as she stepped back into the front room. Nick had refused to let her accompany him, insisting that she rest. She’d barely managed to remove her clothes and pull down the sheets before falling into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Now it was late afternoon and she still felt exhausted. After a long shower she dragged herself downstairs and fixed a cup of coffee. She had the presence of mind to call the club’s CEO and explain that she needed a temporary leave of absence. She must have sounded as bad as she
felt, because he gave in without too much hassle. She went back to her bedroom.

Despite the warm spring sun shining through the window, Willa tucked her down comforter around her and slowly sipped her coffee while relentlessly forcing her mind over and over each excruciating detail of the preceding several days.

No matter how she looked at last night’s events, Nick still had to have set it up, using her as bait without telling her. Had their whole relationship been a charade? The full range of that possibility had become increasingly, unavoidably, and most painfully clear as she’d tried to reconstruct what had happened for the police. She went over it again and again and she still couldn’t find a plausible, painless explanation for everything.

After another hour of hashing it out with herself all over again, her fatigued system simply refused to let her think about it anymore. Yawning widely, she gave up. After switching off her phone, she dropped off into a sound sleep.

By Thursday morning the news of Eric’s arrest was splashed over every newspaper in the country. The phone rang incessantly with reporters begging for interviews, but years of experience
during her father’s illness had taught Willa how to handle them. And she put up with it mainly because she was reluctant to unplug the phone in case Nick or Sky called. But they didn’t. Even when she’d swallowed her pride and placed a few calls herself, she’d been unsuccessful in reaching either of them.

Looking out her bedroom window, Willa finally accepted the devastating truth. Eric had been arrested, as had Doc Abbott—another devastating blow—and if the media could be believed, it was a foregone conclusion that they would be convicted. So except for her testimony at their trials, her usefulness to Nick had ended in the early hours of Tuesday morning.

When the yawning ache in her chest threatened to open up and consume her, she turned to the only defense strong enough to get her through the next minute, and the next one, until she could find some way to survive: anger.

Turning away from her bedroom window, she threw the empty suitcase in her hand onto her bed, then started methodically emptying her drawers into it. She’d decided just that morning that she wouldn’t call Nick or try to reach him again. She’d also decided to get out of town for a few days—to escape the press, she told herself.

She angrily wiped the tears that had started
coursing down her face. “Don’t you dare cry for him, Willa Trask!” Going to the armoire, she swept the jumbled contents into her arms and threw them into a second case she’d dropped on the floor earlier.
You knew this was going to happen
, she lectured herself sternly,
so you have no right to feel sorry for yourself
.

On her way to her car she paused by her answering machine, her eyes misting again as she pulled her hand back from activating it, reaching instead to yank the cord out of the wall. The last thing she needed when she returned was to wade through endless messages in the vain hope that Nick would have called to beg forgiveness. The deafening silence of the last two days had been enough. She peered out the front window to make sure there were no more reporters lurking about.