"Do you hurt anywhere?" he managed to ask after a moment.

She shifted, her brows knitting. "That's a really dumb question at this point, Chief."

He stared at her, choking back emotions that were trying to strangle him. He was losing it, and she was cracking jokes. "Where do you hurt?" he croaked. "Your neck? Your back?"

"Everywhere except the soles of my feet."

A tension-breaking laugh squeezed from his throat. "You scared the dickens out of me."

Closing her eyes, she smiled faintly. "Me, too."

"I smell gas. Honey, I've got to get you out of the car. Can you move?"

Both of her hands opened and closed. "Yeah."

"What about your legs?"

Her face screwed up with the effort, but Nick saw her ankles flex. "I can move. Let's do it. I don't want to take a chance on becoming a s'more."

Praying he wouldn't cause additional damage in the event that she had a spinal or neck injury, Nick crawled halfway through the window, then reached up to release her safety belt. "I'm going to unsnap your belt. Just relax and fall against me, okay?"

She nodded.

Holding her in place with one arm, he released the belt and felt her sag against him. "Feel okay?"

"Doesn't even hurt."

Nick closed his eyes as another wave of emotion pushed through him. "I'm going to set you down and pull you out of the car. Don't move. Just let me take care of you, okay?"

He should have known she wouldn't obey. By the time he'd backed out of the overturned car, Erin was crawling on all fours. "Nick-"

"I told you to lie still," he growled.

"There was another vehicle. A Lincoln. There was a gun-"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "Whoever it was, they're gone." Rising, he looked over his shoulder and thumbed off the strap of his holster. "I'll ask you about the car in a moment, okay? Right now I want you to lie down. I've got a cervical collar and blanket in my truck-"

When she started to stand, he merely swept her into his arms. "When are you going to learn to follow orders?"

"Maybe my next life." She looked toward the road. "The other car. Are you sure it's gone?"

"There was nobody here when I drove up. Hector's on his way. An ambulance is en route-"

"They tried to kill me, Nick. Shot out the windshield. I couldn't see. The bridge came out of nowhere…"

"Shh." The need to protect her made him grind his teeth. "I'm armed. No one's going to hurt you."

She felt delicate cradled in his arms. Even through the stench of gasoline, her tantalizing scent floated around his brain. He resisted the urge to put his face against hers and close his eyes just to feel her warmth, just to make sure she was really there.

Grunting with the effort, he ascended the ravine with her in his arms, then settled her onto the grass. A sound from the ravine arrested Nick's attention. They both looked over in time to see fire engulf the cruiser.

"Oh, my God," Erin said hoarsely. "You saved my life."

Nick didn't want her gratitude. He didn't like the way she was looking up at him with those large, green eyes of hers. The combination was messing with his head and making him want to hold her tight and never let go.

"For having just flipped your cruiser, you sure are talking a lot," he growled.

"You're not going to fire me for wrecking it, are you?"

"Depends on how badly the town council rakes me over the coals. I'll let you know."

When she started to sit up, he gently pressed her back into the grass. "Easy, McNeal. Do me a favor and just lie still for a couple of minutes, okay?"

She didn't fight him.

"I'm going to get that collar and blanket. Don't move." He loped to the rear of the truck and threw open the door. Rummaging quickly through the emergency case, he removed what he needed, then rushed back to her. Dropping to his knees, he fastened the cervical collar around her neck, then snapped open the blanket and covered her from chin to the tips of her toes. Even through the flannel he could see that she was trembling. A cut stood out stark and red on her left temple. Nick hated seeing her pretty skin marred.

"This will help keep you from going into shock," he said.

"I know the drill, Chief. But I'm okay. Honest."

Before he realized he was going to touch her, he raised his hand and pressed his fingers to her cheek. She flinched, but her flesh felt like velvet. Warm. Supple.

She watched him cautiously, her eyes darkening to the color of a forest at dusk. Her hair was spread out beneath her like shiny scraps of silk. Despite the cut on her temple and the smudge of dirt on her chin, he thought he'd never seen a woman look so thoroughly beautiful.

Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm glad you're all right, McNeal."

She smiled up at him. "Thanks for saving my neck."

"Well, you've got a really nice neck." He tried to smile at her, but failed. "I'm sorry for the things I said to you back at the house. I'm sorry for the way I touched you."

"Nick, it's okay-"

"No, it's not. I had no right."

"I'm a big girl. I knew what I was doing."

"You were upset when you left my house. I did that to you. I don't know what I would have done if you'd been…" Before he could finish, a choking wave of emotion hit him. He straightened, but suddenly he couldn't speak. His throat locked up. His insides turned to jelly. The shakes hit him with the violence of an earthquake. As the first shivers went through his body, he knew just how deep his feelings for this maddening, recalcitrant woman had become.

"Nick?"

He stared at her, aware of the softness of her flesh beneath his fingertips. The slight tremble of her slim body beneath the blanket. She'd come so close to death… His control hovered just beyond his reach. A jab of panic made him pull his hand away from her. His tremors deepened. His stomach clenched. He didn't want her to see him like this.

Without answering, he rose and walked toward the Suburban. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. His legs felt wobbly. On reaching the truck, he put both hands against the hood and leaned forward. He felt nauseous, as if someone had kicked him in the gut.

"Nick."

He didn't answer. Didn't turn around to look at her. Didn't even have the strength to tell her to stay away. He just stood there breathing hard, sweating, fighting the panic and whatever else gripped him so tightly that he couldn't move without falling into a heap at her feet.

"Hey," she said gently, "are you okay?"

He jumped when she came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to tell her to get back under the blanket. To lie down because she could be in shock and not even realize it. That she could have a spinal injury or a head injury and have yet to feel the pain.

Instead, he leaned against the truck, shaking, unable to face her because he didn't want her to see the truth his expression held. "Stay away," he said in a low voice.

"What's wrong?"

"For crying out loud, McNeal, you shouldn't be up and walking around."

"I need to know if you're all right," she whispered.

"I'm fine."

"You're shaking-"

"Forget it."

The wail of a siren in the distance broke the tension that had risen between them. The sound sent a flutter of relief through Nick. He told himself it was because he wanted her to get checked out as soon as possible. But he knew part of the reason he didn't want to be alone with her was because he didn't want her to prod the wound that had just been reopened.

Knowing he couldn't avoid the inevitable, clamping his jaws to keep his expression neutral, he slowly turned to her. His knees went weak at the sight of her tears. They shook him to his foundation, sent the last of his resistance out the window. With an oath, he crossed the distance between them. He didn't remember reaching for her. He didn't remember enveloping her in his arms. All he knew was that the feel of her against him was so right it brought tears to his own eyes, and made him want to protect her from the world, even if she didn't want it that way.