the perp.
As a police officer stuffed the assailant in the back of a squad car, Max straightened and turned to check on the woman. He lurched as something light plastered itself against his chest. It was her. Oh, God, sobbing.
“I got to you as fast as I could,” he muttered unwillingly. “I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”
Reluctantly his arms came up around her, and, swear to God, she snuggled against him. The strangest feeling washed over him as this tiny female burrowed closer against his chest as if he were a combination furnace and Second Coming. It made him feel protective. Possessive. Needed. What the hell was that all about?
Lord knew, other people had needed him his whole life. His father after the divorce devastated him. His mother after the car accident paralyzed her. His baby sister after their mother died and left him alone to raise her. But never had any of that made him feel like this. Like he could climb a mountain or conquer an army single-handedly.
The woman’s shaking lessened as he held her, and eventually a policeman peeled her off his chest to take a brief statement from her about what had happened. She gave her name, Lissa Clearmont, but, of course, he already knew it.
He already knew lots of things about her. Like what time she opened the bedroom blinds in the morning to greet the sun. That she practiced yoga almost every day. That she didn’t like being in the store alone after dark. Which electric company and telephone company the shop used. What brand of laundry soap the owner preferred. After all, he was very good at his job.
He was intrigued when she begged off coming down to the police station immediately to make a report, saying that she had something pressing to do before she talked to them again. What was more important than putting away the bastard who’d tried to assault her and possibly kill her? There’d been something about the way the assailant had attacked Lissa that smacked of a psychopath and not a regular, garden-variety mugger.
Another police car pulled up, this one unmarked except for a magnetic siren stuck to the driver’s side roof. Bastien LeBlanc, a friend of his sister and her fiancé, piled out of the car. He looked as if he’d been pulled out of an undercover mission, too. Or maybe he’d been at a strip club down in the French Quarter using all those bad-boy good looks to get lucky. He stopped to speak briefly with the arresting officers and then made his way over to Max.
“Hey, bro. What up?” the New Orleans cop and former navy SEAL asked him.
“That guy—” he pointed at the perp in the cop car “—mugged that woman—” he pointed at Lissa “—a few minutes ago.”
“Lemme guess. You dived in and saved the day. Dude’s looking a little rough around the edges. Street name’s Julio G. He’s a notorious gangster. We’ve been working on taking him down for a couple of years. Problem is, his flunkies keep taking the fall for him and he keeps slipping out of our net. But not tonight, methinks. Make sure the NOPD doesn’t get blamed for busting him up like that, eh? We wouldn’t want him to get off on yet another technicality.”
Max grimaced. “The girl did most of the visible damage after I took the bastard down. I thought it might be good for her to work out a little of her fear on him before we called you guys.”
Bastien grinned. “I’m beginning to see why my future brother-in-law called you an ice-cold motherfu—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Max interrupted. “Listen. I need a favor.”
“Name it. The district attorney’s going to be thrilled that we finally got Julio G. dead to rights. We think he’s top dog in one of the more violent gangs in the area. Not only did you take him down, but you gift wrapped him for the police. No way is he passing off these charges on to one of his boys. We owe you one.”
“I need my name kept out of the police report. In fact, I need all mention of my being involved with this incident sanitized out of the official record.”
“You don’t want any credit at all for catching this slimeball?”
“Nope. None. I was never here.”
Bastien grinned again. “I dunno. The way that pretty little lady’s lookin’ at you, I might rethink that ‘never been here’ thing. She’s one sweet piece of—”
“And that’ll be enough out of you,” Max interrupted.
Bastien frowned. “The woman’s testimony ought to be enough to put Julio away. But if it’s not looking good at trial, I’m gonna have to give your name to the DA and let him call you to testify. We can’t let this guy slip out of our grasp. He’s seriously bad news.”
Max nodded reluctantly. “Understood.” This was the paradox of being undercover and going after bad guys. It became a trade-off of blowing one’s cover versus putting away the scumbags one encountered along the way. At what point was it worth blowing two years’ worth of undercover work to put away one guy?
“Do me a favor in return, bro,” Bastien said.
“What’s that?” he asked cautiously.
“See to it Ms. Clearmont gets home safely. She’s refusing to come down to the station until tomorrow to make her statement, and I’d hate for one of that bottom-feeder’s buddies to find her overnight and take it upon himself to silence her before she can press charges. Given the gang he affiliates with, he’s got some downright unfriendly associates.”
“You protect her. That’s your job.”
Bastien shrugged. “She’s refusing any police protection. Insists on you being the one to take her home.”
Max rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if he could say no to that. Dammit. “Fine. I’ll follow her to her place.”
“You’ll do more than that if I’m keeping your name off the report. You hold her hand and tuck her into bed. She’s had one hell of a scare, and the way she tells it, she’s got no family or friends in town to take care of her.”
“Why me?” he protested. “I’m on an op and she stumbled into the middle of it...” He left out the part where she was the op.
Bastien threw him a withering look that said he’d thought better of Max than to abandon a lady in need. Max huffed. “All right already. I’ll walk her home and make sure she’s safe overnight.”
“You’ll stay with her?”
Max frowned. “If she’ll let me. And if not, I’ll spend the night outside her place and keep an eye on her. She’ll be safe.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, Bastien. I’ve got her back.”
The cop stared at him intently for a moment and then nodded, accepting his word. “All right. I got me a date to get back to, then. Can’t keep the ladies of New Orleans waiting for all this hotness.”
Max rolled his eyes as the cop strolled away; then he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Rather, the damsel in distress at hand. Dammit. He really didn’t need to pull babysitting duty when he should be out hunting bad guys. Or maybe being the bad guy would be more accurate.
A soft hand touched his sleeve, and he reacted violently, spinning to face Lissa, who pulled back sharply at his abrupt move. He carefully stilled his entire body and pitched his voice to calming tones. “The police asked if I’d mind walking you home. Would that be all right with you, or would that frighten you?”
“Why on earth would that frighten me? You saved me. You’re my knight in shining armor.”
Oh, God. He was so not a good guy. Were it not for some random creep attacking her, he’d be the one scaring her. He would be the one stalking her without her knowledge, the one peering in her windows with a telescope, the one bugging her house and cloning her computer and cell phone. He would be the one putting that haunted expression in her big dark eyes.
He shoved a distracted hand through his short hair. “Look.