He was too busy dealing with what an ass he’d been. Yeah, he’d gotten the word on the yarn-shop delivery and drawn the right conclusion, gotten back to Bedroom Eyes before anyone had gotten hurt, but that didn’t change all he’d done wrong.
Getting involved with Samantha had cost him his edge, risked the case and hurt her—hell, had almost gotten her killed.
Why didn’t you tell me? Because he couldn’t. The memory of her face when she’d asked him if he’d suspected her burned through him like acid.
His questions about the ledger she’d found had sounded like accusations, he knew, when he’d just been verifying the chain of evidence, keeping her in the clear. He ached to talk to her.
Except what could he say that could possibly make this right? For her or the job?
His squad mates wanted to take him out for beer at Jade’s after the shift. That felt wrong. He should be cut from the case, kicked off the force maybe, not be tossing back brews, accepting high fives.
In the john, he splashed water on his face to clear his head, then glanced into his guilty eyes. The eyes Samantha said looked like Oak Creek moss. Damn. He wanted to punch through the glass and smash his reflection to bits.
Back in the squad room, Mark looked up at him. “What’s the deal? You look like you lost your dog. You solved the case, bro.”
He shrugged away his partner’s back slap, leveled his gaze and ground out the truth, “I wasn’t at the stakeout last night.”
“You weren’t? Then how did you…?” Trudeau stared at him.
“Samantha got the call at her place. Early this morning. I was there.”
He watched Mark put the pieces together, react, then work his game face back into shape. “You did your job. The case got solved.”
Rick held his silence.
“Hell,” Mark said, leaning in, speaking low, “if you hadn’t slept with her, we’d still be doing surveillance.”
He shook his head. “It was wrong. For the job. And for Samantha. I took advantage.”
“Sawyer’s smart. She knows you were doing your job.”
“By sleeping with her?” He looked around to be sure he hadn’t been overheard.
Mark took in his expression, read between the lines. “Talk to the woman. Straighten it out with her.”
“What the hell am I going to say? I’m sorry? An apology can’t fix what I’ve done.” He realized he’d clenched both fists and was trembling with frustration.
“Take a couple hours off the clock. Go see her. Meet us at Jade’s after.”
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll do that. I’ll go talk to her.” He had to make sure she was all right, offer his help where she needed it. He might not be able to make it right, but he could make it better.
SAMANTHA LOOKED through the peephole at Rick. She’d only been home from her police interview for a couple of hours and she was still pretty shaky. Her impulse was to run to him and let him comfort her.
But the man on her porch was now a stranger to her. Always had been, really. She’d played a dangerous game, turning him into her fantasy lover, then losing herself to the dream of what she’d thought they shared.
She took a calming breath and opened the door to a man she didn’t know at all.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I survived,” she said simply, backing up to let him in.
He stepped inside, and raised and lowered his arms, as though he wanted to hug her, but didn’t dare.
He was right not to try. She turned on her heel and led him into the living room, where she sat in the chair, leaving him the couch, far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to catch every flicker of emotion in his eyes. She’d misinterpreted those eyes and those emotions all along.
Rick sat on the closest corner and leaned toward her, elbows on his knees, eating up all the space she’d intended to keep between them. “I’m sorry, Samantha.” He looked so anguished that her heart ached for him. That was ridiculous. She was the one who’d been suspected, lied to, tricked, put in danger.
A wave of outrage rose in her and she was glad. “Sorry that you thought I was doing pornography and dealing drugs and laundering money and God knows what else?”
“I was doing my job, Samantha.”
“Your job? You mean as my assistant? Doing whatever I needed?” Those words had meant so much to her at the time.
“You have every right to be angry,” he said. “Did the questioning go okay?”
“I somehow escaped getting charged with any crime, if that’s what you mean.” She paused and softened her tone. “You were right about the attorney. He’s good. He got me through it. And the girls, too.”