Chapter 21
Coop waited until Erica climbed into the passenger seat, closed her door, and circled the truck to his side. He started the engine then reminded her, “Seat belt.”
She blinked, momentarily disoriented, as if she’d forgotten how this all worked. Drawing a shaky breath, she pulled the belt across her chest and fastened it with a click.
The cruiser lights strobed in his mirrors as he pulled away from the curb.
The scene he’d walked into—a man twice her size, looming over her, yanking her hair, and the sound of her pain-filled cries—still clung to him.
He gripped the wheel, knuckles turning white, as he imagined slamming his fist into her attacker’s face again.
She sat rigid beside him, her purse clutched in her lap. An overnight bag lay at her feet, a larger suitcase wedged behind the seat. She held a can of pepper spray as if she might still need it.
“Let’s put this away,” he said, reaching over to take it from her.
Her grip didn’t loosen. For a second, he thought he might have to pry it free.
Then she blinked, as if surfacing. “Oh… I… Yeah.” She let go.
He tossed the spray onto the floor behind her seat then took her hand. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know. If you hadn’t arrived when you did…” She reached for his hand, gripping hard, her knuckles turning white. He didn’t pull away. The pain was nothing compared to what she’d just experienced, and if she needed to hold on to get through this, so be it.
He hoped to God he could live up to his promise. All he knew was that he wanted her at his place. Under his roof, behind his locks, where he could watch every window and check out every sound in the night. But it was far from over.
His phone rang. A standard ringtone, nothing special, but Erica’s whole body jerked.
He squeezed her hand then hit the button on the dashboard to put the call on speaker. She didn’t need to be shielded anymore. She was in the thick of it again.
“Cooper, here,” he answered.
“What the hell?” his partner said. “I leave you for five minutes, and you’re going to the mat with a Russian in your girlfriend’s kitchen. What happened to waiting for backup?”
“There was no time. Believe me.”
“Where’s Erica?” O’Reilly asked immediately, the sharpness gone. “Is she okay?”
“She’s with me,” he replied. When he glanced her way, she was watching him instead of out the window. “Shaken up. But okay.”
“Good. Listen. Your guy isn’t talking.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “He’s not my guy. He’s Kedrov’s.”
“I know,” O’Reilly said. “So does he. He’s sitting in the holding room like he’s waiting for an Uber. No fuss. No lawyer request. No pacing. Just waiting.”
“He believes his boss will rescue him.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see Erica tracking every word. They needed to settle this tonight. “Gruzinsky’s the key,” he said. “If he hasn’t lawyered up yet, keep pressing.”
“Will do.” O’Reilly paused, his voice turning grim. “More bad news.”
She tensed beside him.
“Darren Holt is in the ICU.”
She let out a startled sound.
Coop stared at the dark stretch of road ahead. “They got to him.”
“Yeah. And worked him over pretty good. The hospital lists him as critical but won’t give a prognosis.” That said everything. “A team went by his place. Someone got there first. Laptop and cameras, if he had them, were gone.”
“What about his notes?” she asked. “He was always scribbling in a spiral notebook.”
“No notebooks were found, either,” O’Reilly replied.
“That’s how they knew about Erica,” Coop said.
“Which means our problem is a lot bigger than one thug with a gun.”
Coop glanced over at her. She’d gone pale but wasn’t falling apart.
O’Reilly’s voice came again, quieter. “Not to pile on, but the captain’s pissed. He’s already been on the phone with the FBI. They’re sending a team in the morning.”
That meant paperwork, protocols, and too many hands reaching for control. Erica would become another case to handle rather than a woman to protect. And he could get boxed out entirely.
“When the feds show up, they’ll have opinions,” O’Reilly said. “About you. About me. About…” He didn’t finish, and the pause was jarring.
Coop took her hand again. This time, she held on like a lifeline.
“You good?” O’Reilly asked, less Ranger and more friend.
“No. But we’re functional.”
“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“Yeah,” he said, not as convinced as his partner, then ended the call.
Except for the hum of the engine, nothing penetrated the quiet. She continued to grip his hand, staring out the windshield like she could make the chaos disappear.
Coop drove on autopilot, his mind racing. It was ten minutes to his place, seven to the station. He could put her to bed and lock the place down, but he loathed leaving her. If he didn’t, he’d lose his one shot at Kedrov before the FBI took over. It infuriated him that these were his only choices.
Her voice broke through, offering him another. “You said he’s the key. Let me see what else he can give me.”
He looked at her then, really looked. When they first met, he thought she was flighty, fragile, but she held herself together by sheer force of will. He’d been walking that same line all night. But with her suggestion, it started to crumble.
“No.”
“Vince—”
“You’ve done enough.”
“He said Kedrov wanted to meet me.” She leaned toward him with rising urgency. “He knows who I am, Vince. I’m not safe unless you get to him.”
She was right. And time was slipping through his fingers. He weighed the risk, the cost, the necessity.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted, turning toward the window again. “But I can’t live my life looking over my shoulder for Kedrov.” She paused then looked at him. “I’m not running again. Not when my life is finally going in the right direction.”
His, too, which was why it killed him to take this risk.
He didn’t answer immediately. If she was doing this, he needed her to understand there were limits.
“You get one shot,” he said firmly. “You get what you can, then you’re done. You do not push past your limit. You hear me?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her head turn his way. “I hear you,” she repeated.
“And you don’t do anything I don’t agree to,” he added, voice razor-sharp. “If I say stop, you stop.”
“Okay.”
Against his better judgment, he changed lanes. The station lights appeared within minutes. He pulled into the lot and parked but didn’t get out. Instead, he took her hand again and let out a breath.
“I hate asking this of you.”
She laid her free hand over both of theirs. “You aren’t asking,” she insisted, like the day at the Wilson house. “I want this thing with Kedrov over. And I want to keep building what’s between us.” Her eyes held his, clear despite everything. “I think we’re worth the risk.”
Something in him stilled. Not the Ranger. Not the man calculating threats and timelines. Only Vince, hearing what he hadn’t dared hope for.
But the decision was made. She was doing this, but not without him at her side every moment.