you want him to go to jail?” the officer countered.
“I really think he was telling the truth. If you think he’s telling the truth, then you should let him go.”
“Is anything missing?”
Ellie glanced around. “Liam said the guy was going through my desk when he came in. But there’s nothing of value there. My computer is still here and so is the television and the stereo equipment.”
“Well, if you find anything missing, call me and I’ll put it into the report.” The officer handed her a business card as he stood. “And you may want to get those locks checked. Burglars sometimes come back a second time.”
Ellie showed the policeman to the door, then closed it behind him, making sure to lock the dead bolt. Then she grabbed up the knife and sat on the sofa. She was afraid to go to bed now, afraid that whoever had broken in would come back. She scrambled off the sofa and picked up a chair from the dining alcove, then jammed it under the doorknob. But, given the choice, she didn’t want to depend upon locks and chairs and butcher knives to protect herself.
A lot of good her white knight was doing her now, locked up in a jail cell. “I should have left him tied up on the floor,” Ellie said. But somehow she suspected that he wouldn’t have stayed tied up for long. Liam Quinn would have convinced her to untie him—and then who knows what might have happened?
2
LIAM LAY on the cold steel bench in the holding cell. Until a few moments ago, the cell had been filled with an assortment of petty criminals—two pimps, a handful of drunk and disorderlies, and four Harvard boys who’d been caught trying to climb the steeple of the Old South Meeting House. But they’d all been hustled out to central booking and then to night court, leaving Liam to the rather Spartan and smelly accommodations.
This was all his fault. He’d spent too much time listening to those stupid Mighty Quinn stories when he was a kid and the first chance he had, he decided to ride to the rescue. He could have waited for the police or alerted a neighbor or even caused enough commotion on the street to send the guy running. But instead he’d felt compelled to burst into Eleanor Thorpe’s apartment to snatch her from the jaws of certain danger.
His mind flashed an image of her dressed in the nearly transparent nightgown. Once she’d turned on the light in the living room, he could see right through the thin cotton.
Liam groaned and put his arm over his eyes, trying to banish the image from his head. But it lingered in his mind, and rather than fight it, Liam decided to enjoy it. She had incredibly long legs, slender and perfectly shaped, and hips that curved in a way that made her seem instantly seductive. And her breasts—her breasts were just… Liam swallowed hard, his fingers clenching into fists.
Hell, it wasn’t as if she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. Not even close. In truth, her features just weren’t that remarkable. Though she did have very nice eyes, her mouth was just a little too wide, her lips too lush. And her dark hair fell around her face in a way that made her look as if she’d just gotten out of bed—which she had.
As he thought about their encounter, he realized it was more than her looks that attracted him. But what was it? Was it the breathless way she spoke when she was nervous? Or the way she moved, almost amusing in her awkwardness?
Maybe it was the fact that she’d never once responded to him the way other women had. She hadn’t cozied up to him and found any excuse she could to touch him. She hadn’t sent him teasing looks or seductive smiles. No, Ellie Thorpe had hit him over the head with a lamp then tied him up like some S & M fantasy man. And even after he was certain he’d convinced her of his innocence, she still hadn’t fallen prey to his charms.
“I just wasn’t trying hard enough,” Liam murmured.
A cell door slammed nearby and Liam glanced up to find a uniformed officer watching him from behind steel bars. He quickly stood and crossed the cell. “Can I have my phone call?”
“You had your phone call,” the officer said.
Liam had decided Conor was his only option when it came to straightening out this mess. But the late-night call had been answered not by Conor or Olivia, but by their voice mail, and Liam had hung up without leaving a message. “I couldn’t get hold of my brother. It doesn’t count if I didn’t talk to anyone.”
“Are you making the rules now, Quinn?”
Liam shook his head. “No, I’m just saying that—”
“You got caught breaking and entering. Right about now, you should be sitting in night court and thinking about how you’re going to make bail.”
Liam pressed his forehead against the cold, steel bars. “This isn’t exactly the way I wanted to spend my Friday night. I had a date that I canceled. I should have just gone on that date and not even bothered saving Eleanor Thorpe’s life. You’d think she’d be at least a little grateful.”
The cop reached down and unlocked the cell door. “Well, I guess she was. Her story checked with yours. And we paged your brother. He’s downstairs talking to the two guys who arrested you.”
“I’m free to go?”
“We’re not booking you. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to keep your nose clean. The next time you see someone breaking and entering, dial 9-1-1 and wait for the police.”
Liam smiled. “Right. That’s exactly what I’ll do. By the book next time. I promise.”
The cop swung open the door, waiting for Liam. Without wasting any time, Liam grabbed his jacket and walked toward the exit. But at the last moment he turned and took one long, last look. There were times when he wondered just what kind of guardian angel sat on his shoulder. His childhood hadn’t exactly been the best in the world. There’s no telling what kind of wrong turn he might have taken had he made just one or two bad decisions.
But instead of a life as a petty criminal, he’d actually survived a shaky childhood and become a responsible adult. The kind of adult who’d try to save a woman from an intruder. Maybe the Mighty Quinn tales had done some good—not that he was planning to take up a career as a superhero.
Liam followed the cop to the door of the holding area. “He’s downstairs at the desk,” the officer said. “You need to sign for your stuff.”
“Thanks.”
Liam saw Conor before he even reached the bottom of the stairs. His big brother stood below, his eyes dark with anger, his arms crossed over his chest. Liam grinned as he hurried down the steps, but he could tell that Conor was in a foul mood.
“Hey, bro,” he said, giving his brother a playful clap on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Don’t say a word,” Conor warned. “The next thing out of your mouth better be an apology or I’ll take you out back and beat the crap out of you.”
“Sorry,” Liam murmured. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Conor turned on his heel and strode to the door, nodding brusquely to the desk sergeant as he passed. “Thanks, Willie. I owe you.”
When they reached Conor’s
