Sweet Seduction Shield (2 page)

Breathe Marie.
Just breathe.

"You used to
live in Wellington, when you were Mrs Costello, correct?" he asked,
voice level, determined, but somehow still soft.

Every cell in
my body wanted to lie. A headache had started behind my right eye.
I reached up and rubbed my temple, feeling the floor fall out from
beneath my seat. Feeling my world shatter and crumble.

Feeling like I
might vomit.

I forced
myself not to glance at the photo on my desk. It took every ounce
of self-possession to deny myself one desperate last look.

"Yes," I
finally managed to murmur.

There was no
confidence in my tone. Just utter defeat.

"Are you all
right?" The detective 's voice came from right beside my chair.

My eyes
flicked open, directly looking into the concerned gaze of Detective
Pierce. I must have zoned out for a moment. I had no recollection
of him moving.

"Ms Cox, can I
get you something? Water, perhaps?"

I shook my
head to say no. There was nothing that could save us now.

Nothing.

The detective
hesitated, still crouched down at my side. Then letting out what
seemed like a frustrated breath, he rose and returned to his side
of the desk, sitting back down in the chair there. I didn't want
him to sit. I wanted him to leave. I wanted my past to not have
come back and haunted me this day. My mistakes to not have been
thrust in my face reminding me of what I now had to lose.

"We're tidying
up loose ends," Detective Pierce said, sharpening my focus, making
me bring my attention back to the room and out of my sordid
past.

I didn't say
anything, just waited for him to go on. There was nothing I could
do to stop this now. He knew who I was. He knew I was connected to
Roan McLaren. He knew exactly what sort of man McLaren is.

"There are
certain events," the detective said, speaking carefully, softly
still. Making me wonder why he was taking such care. Shouldn't he
be more judgemental than this? Shouldn't he be reading me my
rights? "That we need to clarify further, before we shut the case
for good."

His dark brown
eyes held my gaze. I hadn't moved since he'd returned to his side
of the desk. I hadn't said a word of encouragement or in my
defence. I was a wall of nothing. Even my customary confidence was
shattered, but at least I was still sitting tall.

"We need your
help to fill in the blanks," he announced, making the cogs in my
head begin to splutter and whirl.

"Help?" I
asked, and cursed the surprise that was obvious in my tone.

The detective
sat forward on his chair. Right. We were getting to crux of this
conversation. The real reason why he was here.

This was
it.

"What happened
the night your husband was killed?"

There was no
way on earth I could hide my reaction to those words. All air left
my lungs, my fingers grasped the edge of my desk so hard, my
knuckles soon became white. No doubt matching the colour of my
cheeks. Saliva pooled in my mouth letting me know I was about to be
sick. A small pained sound slipped free of my pursed lips.

I shook my
head. Once. Twice. Three times.

"I'm sorry,
Detective, but you've got the wrong woman," I forced myself to
say.

"You know as
well as I, Marie," he said so softly, so gently, "that I have
not."

What was this?
If he knew Richard had been killed, then he had an idea of why. If
he was fishing for my part in the whole wretched, vile mess that
unfolded resulting in Rick's death, then why was he being so kind
about it? If he actually knew what I had done that led to the
murder of my husband, he would not be as nice.

So, maybe he
didn't know.

"I have
nothing to say," I advised, standing from my chair and pulling my
shoulders back.

This had been
a false alarm. Too close for comfort, certainly. And now knowing
McLaren had been brought down and would pay for his crimes, a
warning that it was time to leave the country.

I hadn't been
hiding as such. Cox was my maiden name. If Roan McLaren had wanted
to exact more revenge for what I did, he could have found me. But
with his back to the wall, things might change. Would the drug lord
use me to garner a better result in court?

I wasn't going
to wait around to find out.

There was more
at stake here than my own neck.

The cop leaned
back in his chair and stroked his goatee beard contemplatively.
Completely and utterly ignoring my inferred request for him to
leave. His keen brown eyes never left my face.

"What are you
afraid of?" he finally asked, voice low and gentle. He was
concerned for me. I shook my head to dispel that thought. He was a
cop doing his job, which ultimately could mean our ruin.

"I can't help
you," I replied, confidence finally returning to shield my true
emotions right then.

He sat
motionless for a moment, just staring up at me. I was standing,
towering over him, but still I felt so lost under that intense
gaze. He held the key to my freedom, to our life continuing as we
knew it, and there wasn't a blind thing I could do.

My eyes skipped over to the photo on my desk, my heart
splitting open inside my chest.
Oh fuck, what have I
done?
Tears felt hot and wet behind my lids,
and my body began to shake with the desperate need to
sob.

Or just the
desperate need to get to her. To make sure she was still safe.

I heard the
detective rise to his feet, but I couldn't stop staring at the
photo.

I'd made some
decidedly poor choices in my life. Some causing drastic and tragic
results. I'd lived with my regret. I'd paid for my crimes in more
ways than a person should. I'm no saint. I've lived off the profit
of illegal actions and barely blinked an eye.

But just when
I thought I could stop it all. Just when I thought I could do
something right with all the wrong I'd been a part of, I paid the
price. McLaren was too strong, too evil for me to fight back then.
He is still those things now.

"Who is she?"
the Detective asked, his voice right at my side again.

Where was my shield now? Where was the confidence I used to
deflect, to disguise? I'd led a cop straight to the most precious
part of me. I showed a weakness that right now, with Roan McLaren
in the spotlight, I could not afford. Fuck! It was a price I
could
never
afford to
pay.

"She's your
daughter, isn't she?" he said softly, quietly. Even respectfully.
"Yours and Costello's," he surmised. Correctly.

Fuck you,
Rick. Fuck you to the hell you live in and back.

"I think you
should leave," I said, turning to look the detective in the
eyes.

Maybe I
shouldn't have. There was something there that felt so right, when
nothing could ever feel that way again.

Compassion.

Understanding.

Both of which
I did not deserve.

"He can't hurt
you now," Detective Pierce said gently from beside me.

I was rigid
with a feeling I had shunned for more than five years. The return
of the emotion making me anything but the "ice princess" my work
colleagues teased me as.

Everything was
twisting and swirling around me, like a tornado threatening to pull
the very air apart. I ran both hands over my cheeks, trying to get
sensation and blood to return, then clasped my hair at my temples
and gave a little tug.

"Jesus," I
heard Pierce say. "Here, sit down. I'll get you a glass of
water."

He vanished
once I was seated, but returned in next to no time. I'd missed a
minute there somewhere. He'd have had to ask Suzy out at reception
where he could get the water from, and then go all the way to the
other end of the office to fill a glass in the lunch room, before
returning here. But it was as if I'd blinked and he disappeared.
Then I blinked a second time and he came back.

"Drink this,"
he ordered, handing me a cool glass of water. I obeyed the command
without a thought. "That's it," he encouraged, crouching down
beside me. "And another sip."

I followed his
instructions as though they were a lifeline. One sip after another,
as he sat beside me, one hand along the back of my chair, the other
across the desk's surface in front. He was surrounding me, and
rather than feel claustrophobic, which was a normal response when
anyone other than Daisy got too close, I felt... safe.

"You're doing
great, Marie," he murmured softly at my side. "That's it, just one
more sip and then things will be all right."

They wouldn't
be. I knew this with a certainty. But still I did what he suggested
and waited for the world to right itself.

My hand shook
as I reached out to place the glass on my desk. Detective Pierce
wrapped a warm, large palm around my wrist and helped to steady my
grip. He took a fraction longer than necessary to release his
grasp. We both sat there silently for a moment. Neither willing to
break the tension that spanned between us. I couldn't tell if the
result would be good or bad.

"Is she gonna
be OK?" Suzy asked from the door.

My back
automatically straightened and I turned to face the girl with a
smile on my face.

"I'm fine,
Suze. Just a headache, nothing more. The detective was kind enough
to help me with a glass of water."

I could feel
his surprised and intrigued gaze on my face. My cheeks heated from
the obvious lie I'd just so easily spoken in his presence.
Something I have been able to do successfully to hide the fear in
the past. But with this man right now I felt exposed, despite my
efforts to shield with familiar confidence.

"Do you need
an Aspirin?" Suzy asked, standing tentatively at the threshold to
the room. I was betting she was feeling bad about sending the cop
into my office when I'd requested a few minutes reprieve first.

I sucked in a
fortifying breath, thanked the powers that be for Suzy's presence,
and offered a reassuring smile and nod of my head.

"A good idea,
Suze." I stood again, making the cop come to his feet as well. "The
detective was just leaving. If you could show him out, I'll grab
some medication from the lunch room."

A huff of a
breath escaped Pierce's lips. He was still standing too close, so I
heard the soft incredulous exhalation. I flicked him a challenging
look. Suzy's appearance had given me the impetus I needed to don my
shield again. With a confident smile, I offered Detective Pierce my
hand to shake. A more clear message for him to leave I could not
have given.

I expected him
to take my hand, to slink away as my tone had implied he should.
Not too many men can stand up to the ice princess treatment. It's
what has gotten me so far, in such a short amount of time, in a
male dominated industry. Plus, I'm very particular with numbers, a
must-have skill for any accountant.

Those working
within the law and outside of it.

I banished
that thought before it could crack my protection; my confidence. I
was too close to losing it again, yet so close to being able to
run.

"Ms Cox,"
Pierce said, taking my hand just as expected. I allowed the
sensation of warmth, his large palm engulfing my smaller one gave
me, to invade my body. Melting a little of the ice, but not
cracking it.

My smile
turned genuine and I saw a flicker of male interest in his eyes.
Any other time and I would have been tempted to investigate that
look further. But now was definitely not the time.

"I'm afraid we
really do need your assistance," the detective said, making the
small amount of heat that had reached my body, through his still
firm grip on my hand, shatter. "If your office is not a convenient
place for that to occur, then perhaps you'll accompany me to the
station."

There was no
third option. His tone brooked no argument. Either talk to him here
or at the Police Station. Now.

I held his
determined gaze and saw a different man than the one who had first
appeared in my office. This man I could see chasing criminals. I
could have played the illness card, made my headache - and I did
have one - more debilitating than it was. But in a moment of
unprecedented surprise, he flashed a challenging look right back at
me. One that matched my own.

The bastard
was calling my bluff.

Well, he could
ask his questions, but that didn't mean he'd get answers. And now I
had my game face on. I'd seen the real him; the focused,
determined, take no prisoners, him.

Fear still
left a bitter taste on my tongue, but I would never let him see it.
I tilted my head, smiled knowingly, and pulled my hand from his
grasp.

"Coffee?" I
asked with my most accommodating smile. "Or tea?"

Without
missing a beat, he replied, "Coffee. Milk, no sugar, please."

"I'll get
right on that," Suzy said, already running from the scene as fast
as her platform heels could take her. That's why she was still a
receptionist. She lacked the balls to play with the big boys. Not
that I blamed her. In a perfect world, I may have been content
sitting at the front desk as well. Necessity had made me who I am
today. And I really didn't know if that was a good thing.

"Well, let's
start this again, shall we?" I offered, indicating his chair on the
other side of my desk with a flick of my hand.

Detective
Pierce offered a half smile, that could almost be called a grimace,
and returned to his seat.

"What do you
want to know, Detective?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and
crossing my legs. Even from his seated position across my desk he
caught the flash of skin on my leg as I performed the
manoeuvre.