More Than A Lawman. Anna J. Stewart

to dump every last pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream in the garbage if she succeeded was on the tip of her tongue, but the thought only stoked her anger. “No way I’m letting this creep put me off ice cream.”

      Never mind the pain; she’d take the risk. Suddenly, she was grateful she hadn’t given up the Pilates classes, even though they were costing her a fortune.

      Eden locked her legs together and swung them back. Then forward. Back. Forward. Until she got a good momentum going. With one final push, she tightened her stomach muscles and threw her legs up and over the shoulders of the closest body, then clamped her feet one over the other. She heard a sickening noise.

      Bile rose in her throat. The chains dug deeper, rubbing away her skin. Blood beaded beneath the metal as she stretched and arched her back, dragging the links up toward the point of the hook. Two inches up, one back. Metal ground against metal.

      With less than an inch to go, poised to yank the chain free and uncross her feet, Eden braced herself for the fall.

      Click.

      Eden twisted her head and stared wide-eyed at the door. She gritted her teeth, gave one last push and released herself.

      The door slid open.

      Eden dropped to the ground and rotated at the last second. She landed hard on her side, her shoulder taking the brunt of the impact.

      She slammed her eyes shut, not just from the pain but the onslaught of light blazing into the freezer. The world blurred; darkness closed in.

      “Eden!”

      She heard voices...lots of voices, and for a split second she thought St. Peter himself was hosting her welcome-to-the-afterlife party.

      Eden frowned. St. Peter sounded like Cole. She tried to breathe, but the fall had stolen the last of her air. She tried again, managing to inhale a shallow breath. It was enough to clear her mind as a warm, strong arm slid under her shoulders and hauled her into a sitting position.

      Firm hands grasped the chain around her wrists and pulled her forward.

      Eden screamed.

      “It’s okay. You’re okay, Eden. I’ve got you.”

      Cole.

      She tried to say his name, but the shivering prevented her from speaking. Next, he’d scooped her up, leaving the chains in place. He carried her from the freezer through a maze of hallways and out into the fresh Central Valley air.

      Her eyes watered at the change in light. She turned her face into the soft leather of his jacket, forcing herself to inhale his spicy masculine scent as it seeped into her. Warmed her. Surrounded her.

      She couldn’t stop shaking. She could barely get her thoughts straight as Cole tightened his arms around her and bent his head to tuck her face deeper into the thawing effects of his jacket. His breath was reassuring against her cheek.

      He was talking to her, his voice fading in and out, so she caught only a few phrases. “Scared the life out of... Don’t ever... Kill you myself. First thing... GPS tracker around your neck.”

      Eden smiled. He was angry with her. Again.

      It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested the tracker, but it was the first time she didn’t feel like clocking him in response.

      She knew his concern was out of an obligation he felt he had to her brother, to the promise he’d made years ago to keep an eye on her. Still, it was nice to know Cole cared, and she decided to enjoy the moment. She’d avoided death, unlike her silent companions. Soon enough he’d change tactics, read her the riot act for being so careless, for putting her life at risk. Again. For not following the rules. Again.

      And she, in return, would remind him, again, that the rules didn’t apply when it came to stopping killers like the Iceman.

      Her stomach fluttered as Cole pressed his lips against her forehead and lingered for a minute.

      Odd. No part of Eden St. Claire ever fluttered. Besides, Cole Delaney wasn’t her type. He was a friend. Maybe her best friend. And if there was one thing she’d learned the last ten years, it was that cops and reporters did not mix. Especially not her—a journalist who was so not by the book—and him—a detective so by the book he recited regulations as if they were his nightly prayers.

      That warm and fuzzy sensation she was feeling toward him was gratitude. Nothing more.

      She felt Cole sit down, keeping her on his lap as he stretched his jacket around her still-shivering body.

      “S-s-sorry,” Eden finally managed.

      “Shut up,” Cole ordered and then shouted over her head. “Medic! She needs medical attention!”

      “D-do n-n-not n-nee—” She smiled a little when she felt his body tense.

      “I said shut up. Medic!” His bellow only made her headache worse. Eden heard racing footsteps and her memory flashed back to Monroe’s parking lot. She shuddered and swallowed the fear.

      “G-get th-th-these off me.” Eden lifted her wrists and found the chains incredibly heavy. Where was that adrenaline now that she knew she wasn’t going to die? She was so sleepy, and Cole was so safe, so comforting. If she could close her eyes for a few minutes—maybe her mind would slow down.

      “Hey!” Cole’s fingers gripped her chin to jostle her. “Stay with me, Eden.”

      “Huh?” Eden blinked. She truly hated him telling her what to do.

      An older female EMT appeared. Eden anticipated the freedom, reveled in it as the paramedic examined the chains twisted around Eden’s wrists. Smiling, Eden lifted her chin and looked at Cole.

      “Hi there, handsome.”

      Eden enjoyed the surprise in his dark green eyes. She’d always thought him good-looking, although not in the fairy-tale-prince sense. His angular features, slightly pointed nose, his wide-set eyes and the faded scar that ran from his right ear to his temple evoked images of his Celtic warrior ancestry. The idea was only enhanced by his perfectly honed body—one that had allowed him to lift her off the freezer floor as if she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes.

      A sack of potatoes. Eden giggled. She was a bag of veggies.

      “Get this around her.” A voice she didn’t recognize came from above her. She focused on a second EMT holding out a thermal blanket.

      “Haven’t seen you before,” Eden murmured to the young male EMT. “You new?”

      “She’s probably got hypothermia,” the first EMT told Cole.

      “You think?” Eden said and then gritted her teeth as the chains were pried off her raw, bloodied skin. “Son of a—”

      “Ah. There you are.” Cole’s chuckle sounded strained, and, sure enough, when Eden met his gaze, she loathed the concern she saw reflected in his eyes. “We’ve got to take you to the hospital, Eden. Get you checked out.”

      Eden set her jaw. “I’ll be fine. Please take me home.” A long hot shower, a gallon of coffee, and she’d be on the other side of frozen in no time.

      “These wounds need treating.”

      Eden concentrated on the female EMT and tried her best to appear steady. “I don’t like hospitals.”

      “I bet you’d like dying less. Hypothermia can mess with your heart. You’re going to be checked out and probably kept for observation.” The woman gave Cole a stern look. “I can bring a gurney over.”

      New panic overtook the fear she’d experienced in the freezer. “No, Cole. Please.” She knew she had no right to ask him to help her again, but she didn’t have to explain—not to him. He’d understand she wasn’t up to facing another of her demons tonight.

      Loyalty to her and obligation to his job battled behind the tension reflected in his gaze.