More than that he couldn't say without betraying confidences, and he really didn't know more that would be helpful. Still, he'd stuck to the standard squadron knowledge. Reis would have found out eventually. Carson had only sped up the process for safety's sake.
Reis studied him through half-open eyes. "Not that you have any reason to send me in a direction other than Nikki Price."
"I just thought you should know," he repeated.
"Duly noted." Reis tucked his gum pack back in his pocket and pivoted away.
Carson chewed on a curse harder than the investigator chomped gum. So much for keeping his damned drooling over Nikki a secret.
He could deal with the rest of the world knowing. But it was far tougher—and more essential—to keep the rogue attraction hidden from Nikki.
* * *
Rohypnol, a date-rape drug, had somehow been slipped into her drink last night.
Nikki settled into the bucket seat of Carson's sparkling Ford F-250, still rocked to her toes by the lab results that had arrived while Special Agent Reis questioned her. She hadn't been able to determine from the detective's expression if the news worked in her favor or not. Worst of all, there was less chance of her remembering now since the memory loss wasn't simply a by-product of trauma-induced stress.
A long sigh swelled low in her chest, rolling up without any real release in the tension kinking her muscles. The drizzly day outside Carson's windshield and pattering on the cab roof mirrored her mood. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to hold it together much longer. Another twenty minutes and she would be in her apartment.
Riding home with Carson was preferable to her trip over in the ambulance with Special Agent Reis. Barely.
Except she owed Carson big for the hours he'd spent looking out for her today so she wouldn't have to upset her mother. Sure he'd done it for her father, but he had seemed concerned for her, too...
God, she was already weakening around him again, the warmth and scent of his leather jacket more enticing than it should be. And while she'd always found his mustache sexy, his fully-revealed sensual upper lip was all the more enticing.
A dangerous thought.
Still, she should answer the unspoken questions lurking in the clammy air between them. "The doctor said I wasn't raped."
His knuckles went white on the steering wheel, even as his face stayed blank, aviator sunglasses hooked on the collar of his flight suit. "You didn't have to tell me, but thank you.">She would never be able to forgive herself if her mother lost the baby because of stress Nikki rained on her family's already overloaded life. A call should buy her a little time at least. She retrieved the stored number and waited—for only a ring and a half.
"Mom, hi, it's me. What's up?"
"Nikki Janine Price, you were starting to worry me." Her mother's voice held more concern than rebuke. "Are you all right? Where are you?"
Uh-oh. She recognized that tone well. Mom already knew the answer, or at least part of it.
But she wasn't a sixteen-year-old trying to hide a C on her report card. "I'm obviously not at work."
A benign response until she figured out how much her mother already knew. She'd learned a lot about finagling words after listening to her young students try to play her.
"I know that much. I called the school to leave a message for you and they said you're home sick today. You sound stuffy."
Duh. Because she'd cried her eyes out all over a nurse about an hour ago. At least her mom didn't seem to know about Gary Owens's death yet. "I'm just a little congested, nothing a steamy shower and a nap won't fix."
Liar.
She'd held strong all morning only to lose it when the doc put her in the stirrups. God, she'd gritted her teeth through pap smears before—bleck, nobody liked those after all—but she'd already felt so exposed, violated and outright scared to death. Tears were so darn embarrassing, even though the doc had patted her knee and said to take her time while the nurse passed Kleenex and comfort. Their sensitivity only served to make extra tears well up even remembering it now.
Her emotions were so fuzzy and out of control—like standing in a batting cage with one of those baseball pitching machines, and her reflexes too muddled to keep up with everything pelting toward her. All the more reason to stay away from her mom for a couple more hours.
She would go to her mother's house this afternoon and tell her in person before the rumor mill kicked in around base. Although the fallout in the press could be limited because of the exclusively military investigation.
"You didn't pick up at home, either. Are you at the doctor's?"
Mom radar. Its accuracy was scary. "Yes, I've seen a doctor." True enough. "Why did you call in the first place?" A new fear slithered through her hazy brain. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Everything's wonderful in fact." Her mother's happiness darn near vibrated through the phone lines. "I had an ultrasound this morning and, well..."