allow something she’d overheard in the alley to make its way through to the front of her mind. ‘The guy you sent a message to—isn’t there a chance he’ll come looking for you when he gets it?’
‘He won’t try anything when I’m on duty.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Not his MO. If he has the stones to come after a cop he’ll do it in the shadows.’ Long fingers flexed around hers. ‘Despite evidence to the contrary I wouldn’t do anything that could place you in danger.’
‘It wasn’t me I was worried about.’
The softly spoken words made Tyler stop dead in his tracks and turn towards her. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’ His voice was suddenly deeper, richer and accompanied by what almost felt like déjà vu. ‘You can trust me.’
The level of intensity seemed out of place, even for him. Miranda searched what she could see of his eyes. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing.’
A sense of foreboding created an unfamiliar heaviness in her chest. ‘Tyler—’
‘I think we’ve covered enough ground for one night, don’t you?’
He had a point. Suddenly she was exhausted in a way she’d never been before, both physically and emotionally. What worried her was how badly she wanted to draw strength from him and how quickly she’d become reliant on him being there. It wasn’t like her.
From the night they met she’d been following his lead. Even when she’d resisted she’d been caught in the undertow of a wave of attraction, unable to come up for air. At some point she knew she would have to—he wouldn’t be there for ever. But until that day and while there was something that made it feel she should hold on to him, she wrapped a second hand around his and held on tight.
FIFTEEN
‘I’m hearing rumours on the streets there’s a rogue cop gunning for Demietrov. Tell me it’s not you.’
When Tyler silently took the fifth his partner swore in his ear. ‘This isn’t the Wild West where you can clean up the streets with a gun. Hang on.’ He raised his voice to yell at someone who had obviously walked in on his end of the conversation. ‘Anyone wants me I’ll be in the porcelain reading room.’ His voice lowered again. ‘I haven’t been keeping you in on the loop so you can turn vigilante on me. You can’t take on every low life in the city. What difference do you think one man can make?’
‘We think that way we’ve got no business being cops,’ Tyler replied flatly. For him there was more to carrying a shield than family tradition. He’d signed up to make a difference; his lack of success over the years more than half his problem. A little never felt like enough. Textbook overachiever most likely, but the way he saw it there was no point doing something if it wasn’t done right.
‘Do what you’re thinking about doing and you won’t be a cop for much longer,’ his partner replied. There was the sound of a creaking door being opened. ‘You seem to be under the impression ’cos you’re not married with kids it means no one will get hurt if something happens to you. How do you think your family would feel about that?’
Probably the same way they’d feel if they’d had ring seats when he’d treated Miranda the way he had. Like all good Irish boys he’d been raised to be respectful to women. Hadn’t been much indication of that with her, had there? His mother would tear strips off his worthless hide if she knew what he’d done. But when it came to how his family would feel if he became part of the darkness he’d been fighting for so long, Tyler realized he’d convinced himself they would understand. Be disappointed in him—no doubt about that—but they’d get it. Miranda wouldn’t.
Not so long ago what she thought hadn’t mattered.
But it did now.
She’d been worried about him. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t wrap his head around that. Being offered forgiveness with soft, sweet kisses he found impossible to resist had been difficult enough for him to understand. But that she’d been worried about him?
‘You listening to me?’
‘I can hear you.’
‘Not what I asked.’
Tyler watched the people going about their business with cell phones pressed to their ears, cups of coffee in their hands, briefcases as extensions of their arms or a combination of all the above. New Yorkers living busy lives and never worrying about