The Code Enforcer

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  "So, he wears a prosthetic leg?"

  William nodded. "He lost it in the explosion last night and it will take a while to get another."

  Markie wasn't sure what to say next. She still didn't understand why this was such a problem. The way he acted she began to wonder if he was embarrassed, ashamed of it?

  Oh my, he is.

  Guilt washed over her for how she'd sometimes treated him in the past. How she'd busted his chops simply for the fun of it. Took her own problems out on him just because he reminded her of her ex when he had enough of his own problems.

  "I'm sorry, William, but I just don't understand. He let Captain Tomie in, why not me."

  He cracked a half-smile. "Bryce probably doesn't really care what the man thinks about what he feels is a disability. He's not in love with Captain Tomie."

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage. Love. Was Bryce's dad really saying what she thought?

  The soft-spoken man's gaze stayed on her. "I've been trying to get him to move on with life, but he still has a tough time of it. He's probably not going to be happy with me for telling you about this, but he'll get over it and forgive me eventually. I'm not going to stand in your way of going through this door," he said as he pointed to Bryce's room.

  Markie made a move for the door.

  "Wait!" Bridget exclaimed.

  Both she and Bryce’s dad looked at her.

  "William?" Bridget said his name as she tilted her head to the side, and gave him an urging look as if he should be saying more.

  "Bryce needs to tell her the rest," William said.

  The man paused, fixed his attention on Markie, and cleared his throat. "Just keep in mind, losing his leg wasn't his only injury. Please be patient with him."

  Patience wasn't her thing, but the seriousness in William's eyes urged her to try. Though she wasn't sure what other injury the man referred to.

  She pushed her way through the large door and immediately caught Bryce's wide-eyed gape. His mouth was opening to protest so she hurried over, framed his flaming cheeks in her hands and pressed her lips to his. So much for her patience, but it was the only way she could think of to keep him from kicking her out of the room. She kissed him softly and refused to stop until she was sure he wouldn't ask her to leave.

  His mouth moved with hers. When his bandaged hands cupped her cheeks she knew she was close to her desired outcome. She kissed him a bit longer, then inched back only to be drawn back in by him for a few seconds longer.

  She pulled back but held his hands in hers. "I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried about you."

  "I'll be fine. They're springing me loose today if everything checks out with the doctor this morning."

  She eyed the little scrape on his cheekbone surrounded by a hint of purplish bruising. Her fingers itched to trace it—wipe it away, but she knew she'd better play her cards carefully as to not alienate him.

  "Where are you going to go?" she asked.

  "I'll get a hotel room. Figure shit out." He half-smiled. "Get some clothes."

  The poor guy lost everything. Escaped only with the clothes on his back.

  "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

  "It'll be fine."

  "You can stay at my house for a while, ‘til you figure things out."

  Bryce's apprehensive gaze laced with a hint of distress settled on his mattress. Even under the covers, it was easy to see he was missing his leg. He sucked his lips into his mouth. His eyes glazed over.

  She thought it best to wait him out. Let him stay in control of this moment.

  After a few beats, he cleared his throat. "Thanks, Markie. I appreciate it, but I don’t want to put you out."

  "It's no problem."

  He shook his head. "No. I can't."

  His words were firming up. William's reference to patience replayed through her mind. She'd better let him win this battle or she'd only shove him further away.

  "Okay. Well, you know you can call me if you need me.”

  She returned her attention to the large, scraped up hands in hers. "Couple stitches, huh."

  "Yeah. I'm lucky that was it."

  "I'm going to meet Captain Tomie and the fire marshal at your place in a bit. I take it your dad is coming back to help you get settled."

  "Yeah."

  She leaned forward and pressed her lips lightly to his. "Please call me if you need anything."

  "Okay."

  Walking out of that room was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. She wanted to hug that strong-willed man and whisper to him that everything would be okay. Tell him whatever his injuries were, it didn't matter to her. She'd fallen for him already on what she did know about him. He was a smart, kind, caring man, and any woman would be lucky to get someone like him.

  But he wasn't meant for just any woman. He was meant for her.

  Chapter Nine

  Anxiety pinned Bryce in the driver's seat of his rental vehicle in the City Hall parking lot. He got there early in hopes to hobble in on his crutches before anyone else arrived. He planned to spend the whole day in his office, behind his desk, so that the employees who didn't already know about his leg wouldn't find out today. The last thing he needed or wanted was that old familiar pitying look he received from people when they found out about his leg. It was already going to be bad enough today because of his situation with his house, he didn't need to make matters any worse.

  He flung open his door and made his way into the building without seeing anyone. Perfect.

  He plopped into his chair and looked at his aching hands. They hurt badly enough to begin with, but to have to use them to crutch his way everywhere added insult to injury. Suck it up. It could have been a lot worse.

  Ten minutes later, other staff began to filter in. Most stopping by his office to talk about his house and offer help. Admittedly, this was exactly why he loved this small town. Yeah, it could be tough that everyone knew your business, and it was hard to hide something when you wanted to—like an amputated leg—but on the flipside, everyone got to know everyone and were more than willing to lend a hand when needed.

  The genuine kindness of his coworkers had him wondering if he wasn’t being absolutely ridiculous in trying to hide out in his office all day to conceal the fact he'd lost his leg. It could be weeks before he got a new prosthetic. Knowing he needed to face the fact there would be no way he could hide it that long, he blew out an accepting, heavy sigh.

  By the time noon rolled around he was dying to see his house, what was left of it anyhow. He sucked in a deep breath, grabbed his crutches, and headed for his vehicle. He dreaded having to crutch his way through City Hall—expose the secret of his missing leg, but he had no choice if he wanted to go look at his house. He hoped the insurance adjuster had been there already so they could get started on a housing plan.

  Sweat beaded on his brow and his pulse raced as he walked past the reception desk. Mary looked up, and he informed her he’d be gone a bit longer than normal today. Her gaze ran over him.

  His jaw clenched at her double-take. He forced himself to relax. "Yes, I wear a prosthetic leg. It got ruined in the fire," Bryce said, working hard to keep a steady—normal tone. He was kind of glad it was Mary he had to tell first. She was a nice woman, the grandmotherly type, and she probably wouldn’t make a big deal about it.

  "I never noticed that. I hope you're able to get another one soon. Our insurance company is pretty good about it. My husband broke his last year while waterskiing. We thought maybe they'd give him a little grief about it. You know, being a sport he probably shouldn't be doing. They covered without a word. Still though, I can't tell my husband anything, he just keeps doing what he does. Let me know if you need any help with the insurance." She winked. "I've got some experience there."

  Relief sifted through him. Yes, for sure he was glad Mary was first.

  "Thank you. I'll be back shortly."

  He'd just about made it out the back door when he ran into City Admini
strator Johnston.

  "Jeez, you're actually here today?" Johnston said as his gaze ran the length of him.

  Bryce suspected everyone he'd run into would do the same thing. The old once-over. Who could blame them?

  "Yeah. There's nothing I can do yet. Hopefully, I'll see the insurance adjuster today."

  Johnston didn't ask about his leg, and he didn't offer anything up. He supposed the news would travel fast now at City Hall, as fast if not faster than the news of the fire. Ha, it would travel fast as wildfire. Bryce smiled at his own lame joke.

  "Bryce, if you need time off, take it. And if there's anything I can do to help don’t hesitate to ask."

  "Thank you."

  He continued to his car. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, everyone finding out about his leg. But what about Markie. What would she think? Her opinion—approval—was the one he needed most, feared the most.

  Near his home, he noted Fire Chief Bosley's truck and the State Fire Marshal's vehicle parked on the street. His driveway was cluttered with debris, mostly bricks that once shaped his old house. His lungs drained. Maybe it wasn’t an old family homestead, but it was his, and it contained a lot of sweat equity.

  He parked behind the chief, flung his door open, steadied himself on his crutches, then stood on the street for a moment, eyeing the heap that had once been his home. It reminded him of Dorothy's house in the Wizard of Oz as if picked up from its foundation and dropped to the ground in a crooked, haphazard heap. Only his house was charred as well.

  "Bryce," his neighbor yelled from his front step.

  A big, construction worker looking guy stood next to Robert. The man held a clipboard. They walked toward him as he made his way toward them.

  Robert offered a sympathetic nod. "I'm glad to see you up and around."

  "Thanks. Nothing too major. Just some cuts and burns on my hands." Bryce said as he stole a quick glimpse of his sore hands.

  His neighbor gestured toward the man next to him. "This is Freddie from Berkhan Construction. He's just checking out my house—the foundation—to make sure everything is okay. Christ, I can't imagine what it was like for you judging from the way my house shook."

  Anxiety swirled in his stomach. He still didn't know why his house exploded, but if it had been intentional, ultimately, he realized the danger to his neighbors as well.

  "Gosh, I hope everything is okay," he said.

  Robert looked at Freddie. "So far everything is checking out just fine. Matt's house looks good, too."

  Matt was his neighbor on the other side. Thank goodness the lots were fairly large in this old section of town.

  The chief and marshal stepped out from around the back of the house.

  "Well, I'd better go see if they've found out what caused the explosion."

  The men nodded and Bryce walked away.

  Chief Bosley looked at him grimly.

  The news wasn't going to be good.

  "Did you find the cause of the explosion?" Bryce asked.

  "Yeah. Looks like a pipe bomb in the garage. I think when it exploded some shrapnel may have pierced your gas cans, and the tank of your vehicle, igniting the liquid, and causing the flames to spread more quickly. The bomb itself didn't look that large, but certainly large enough. I need to study it some more," the fire marshal said.

  The air drained from his lungs. His fingers tightened around the hand grips of his crutches. Someone really did try to kill him. But who? Why? He kind of figured this was the case, from the moment he'd heard the service door to the garage click in the middle of the night. But to hear him say this was intentional was truly eerie and disturbing.

  "We'll know more soon. I'll keep in touch," the chief said before he and the marshal turned to leave.

  In disbelief, he stared at the rubble he once called a home.

  "Are you feeling okay?" his dad asked as he and his stepmom stepped beside him.

  He hadn't even heard them drive up.

  Was he? No. He'd just found out for sure someone tried to kill him. No. He wasn't okay. Who in the hell would try to kill me?

  "Bryce?"

  "I just found out they think the explosion was intentional."

  "Oh my God," Bridget gasped.

  His father slung an arm around his stepmom's shoulders and pulled her tight to his side. "Do they know who did it?" his dad asked.

  He shook his head.

  "What are they going to do about protection for you?"

  "Not sure."

  "Maybe you should come and stay with us. Get out of here for now."

  "No. I don't know."

  Over his dad's shoulder, Bryce caught a glimpse of Markie climbing out of the captain's SUV. "Dammit!"

  "What?" his dad asked as he craned his neck to look over his shoulder in the direction Bryce stared.

  "It's Markie. She's here." He grimaced down at his foot. His entire body tensed.

  His stepmom placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't hide this from her forever. Plus, she already knows."

  His pulse raced. "What? How?"

  When his father wouldn’t look at him, he had his answer.

  "You told her? Her of all people." His voice raised with each syllable.

  His dad lifted his gaze. "Well, you wouldn't see her. She was worried about you..."

  "It wasn’t your business to tell." Bryce's jaw clenched so hard he could barely finish his sentence.

  "Not my business? You're my son, my business. I just want you to get past this, and open yourself to happiness."

  "Bryce, she doesn't care," Bridget piped in.

  He glared at her. How dare she weigh-in. She was just another in the line of his stepmothers. The fourth one. She didn't have a clue as to what he was going through, and who knew how long she'd be around? She had no right to comment.

  She looked down. "Sorry."

  Bryce eyed his dad. "How could you?"

  "You know, Bridget is right. Markie doesn't care."

  "How would you know that?"

  "I saw the way she kissed you at the hospital."

  "You what?"

  Bryce's heart thudded and his lips tingled as he recalled that magnificent, desperately needed kiss. In the next split second, his heart nearly cracked in half at the thought of never getting another kiss from Markie's glorious, full red lips again now that she'd know his secret.

  "When she went into your room after I talked with her in the hallway. Women don't kiss men that way if they're not all in...and she knew about your leg when she did that."

  "She probably did it out of sympathy," he shot back. "Thanks," he added sarcastically.

  His dad threw his hands in the air, spun to leave, and then turned back around. "You know what? I'm done with this! Go ahead, live your life lonely!"

  As his father stomped off, Bryce wanted to kick himself. The one person who’d stuck by his side through thick and thin seemed to be the one person he kept giving a hard time to.

  Bridget hesitated to follow. Compassion, not anger, lined her gaze. "He just loves you so much."

  Now he felt even worse. More like a disappointment.

  "I know."

  "I'll get him to come back in a little bit," she assured him.

  "Thanks. I appreciate that."

  "And Bryce."

  "Yes."

  "Like your dad said, Markie knew about your leg before she kissed you like her life depended on it. Give her a chance. Don't let a good one like that slip away."

  She had a point. Maybe Markie could see beyond his disability. But his leg was the least of his disabilities. How would she react to a man who may not be able to...perform—satisfy—a woman?

  Sweat beaded on his brow as his stepmother walked away and Markie approached. Thank goodness she stopped to talk with the captain for a second or she probably would have heard him and his dad's awful exchange.

  Markie's gaze held his. He figured she'd lower it to his leg like everyone else did, but she didn't. The intenseness of her stare lit
every nerve ending in his body. Those bright emerald eyes bore right into his soul.

  On one hand, he wanted to spin and leave, on the other, he wanted a kiss from those full red lips. The lips that twice now had sent his heart racing.

  "How are you feeling today?"

  "I'm fine."

  She nodded. "I heard you were at work today. I wanted to see you sooner, but I've been out of the office all morning."

  "No worries."

  Off in the distance, Captain Tomie finished his conversation with the fire chief and fire marshal and headed toward him and Markie.

  "Hey, Bryce," Tomie said.

  "Hey."

  "So, I know you already know this was a deliberate action."

  His stomach flopped. Yes, he already knew, but he still wasn't used to hearing it.

  Markie reached out and wrapped her delicate fingers around his upper arm. "We'll find out who did this."

  Of course she would. She was a great investigator, but would she find out before... Bryce swallowed hard. Before it was too late for him.

  "Markie's right. But for the time being, I think you should stay with someone, not at the hotel, for your safety," Captain Tomie said.

  "I suppose I could go stay with my dad." He only wished he hadn't just pissed him off.

  Tomie bounced his gaze between him and Markie. "I was thinking more like with Markie."

  Adrenaline whipped through Bryce's veins. Using his hand, he swiped the sweat from his brow. He couldn't stay with her, couldn't risk being that close to her.

  Markie's grip tightened on his arm. "I think it's for the best right now."

  "You could stay with me,” the kind man offered. “But it's total chaos with my kids, and my in-laws are here. But if you'd rather, you can."

  No. He couldn't disrupt the man's family like that. Maybe he could stay with the chief. No, that wouldn’t work. The police chief was headed out of town.

  Shit.

  No, absolutely not. He wasn't going to stay with Markie. He could protect himself. No, he couldn't do that either because his handgun was in his house which was now burned to a crisp.

  That's it, he was going to his dad's.

  No, he couldn't do that either. It wasn't fair to bring this danger to his father and stepmother.