The Code Enforcer

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  Shit.

  He had no option but to stay with Markie. With her being a cop, she would be prepared to protect him and herself from the killer. But with that close proximity, how would he be able to protect her, and himself—shield his heart from her.

  Bryce fixed his gaze on Markie.

  "So it's settled then," she said.

  "I guess."

  MARKIE PULLED INTO her two stall garage, then motioned for Bryce to do the same. He climbed out of his rental, grabbed his crutches, and his bag of clothes and necessities he'd purchased earlier in the day. The somber look on his face had been there all day. But she could hardly fault him for that. He'd lost everything. And now he was forced to stay with her. Judging from the way he had kissed her, she knew it shouldn't be a total hardship for him, but the distraught look on his face sure displayed a different story.

  Bryce wobbled on his crutches. Instinctively, she reached toward him to help, and he flinched like he'd touched a hot stove. She reeled her arm back. Though she wanted to help him with the bag he carried, she thought better of it. This independent man wanted no help from anyone. Up until now, he'd done an excellent job of hiding the fact he wore a prosthetic leg. She felt bad for him, his secret was out. But, to her, she didn't completely understand why it was such a problem with him that people knew he'd lost his leg. It didn’t change the man he was. At any rate, for now, she'd do her best to not bring attention to it.

  Thank goodness, they'd stayed at work later than usual. It was almost seven o'clock by the time they'd left. She didn't know how they'd fill the evening alone as awkward as Bryce seemed to feel about staying with her.

  Every time she caught glimpses of those dark, sexy eyes of his, she had visions about how they could spend the evening, but she guessed with all that had gone on with him the past week what she had in mind was probably furthest from his mind.

  Turning away from him she led the way into the house. She flipped on the kitchen light and looked over her shoulder at him. "My mom called earlier. She heard some scuttlebutt about what happened to you. She fixes everything with food, so she dropped off some pork ribs and potatoes for us. Do you like that?"

  "Yeah, that'd be great."

  She pointed down the hall. "The spare room is on the right, just past the bathroom. I'll let you get settled in."

  Bryce nodded and made his way down the hall.

  Markie pulled the containers out of the fridge. Her mother had put a little sticky note on the lid. Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else. And let your friend know how sorry we are about his troubles.

  She smiled and silently thanked her mother. Cooking wasn't Markie's strong suit, and Bryce didn't need to know that yet.

  Just as she pulled out the second plate from inside the microwave, he reappeared in the kitchen.

  "Smells great."

  "Yeah, my mom is a pretty good cook. What would you like to drink? I have milk, iced tea, beer."

  "Tea would be good. I can get it. Just point me in the direction of the glasses. What are you having?

  "Milk."

  Bryce poured the drinks as she set the plates on the table.

  Markie sat across the small table from Bryce. Her brain reeled for any sort of conversation topics but nothing surfaced. The uncomfortable silence about killed her. No matter how hard she tried not to stare at the handsome man sitting across the table, she couldn't help herself. Part of her wanted to run around the table and kiss his worries away, but another part of her knew she shouldn't. She needed to stay focused and remember he was in her house for protection. Plus, she guessed he wasn't in the mood for conversation.

  Bryce finished eating before she did but he remained at the table. Still wordless and uncomfortable. When she rose to clear the table he helped and loaded the dishwasher.

  She needed to break this awful silence. "Do you want to watch television? I'm sure there must be a ball game on."

  "For a while."

  Markie flipped on the television and surfed the channels until she reached the first baseball game. "There's this one or I think the Brewers are on, too, tonight?"

  He nodded as he sat on the opposite end of the couch from her. "The Brewers game if you don't mind?"

  Super, he was a Brewers fan, too.

  Outside of the announcers, there was no noise at all for the next hour.

  After the game ended, Bryce turned toward her. "I think I'll just go to bed now."

  "Me, too."

  She rose and he followed suit. He wasted no time and headed for the hall. He paused at the doorway and looked back at her. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I do appreciate it."

  "No problem."

  He slipped into his room and she into hers.

  She slid between the sheets and flipped off the light, but sleep didn't come. Rather, visions of the handsome man in the room across the hall infiltrated her mind. Those dark eyes of his sent her heart racing when she was lucky enough to capture his gaze. But, he never let her indulge too long. Fear?

  Markie wondered if he was asleep yet. What would he do if she slipped in there? Would he let down his walls of defense and let her in? She sighed. Probably not. At least not yet. His actions let her know he fought it. Why though, she didn't know.

  Flipping over, she fluffed her pillow, then looked at the clock. Two hours had passed, and she still hadn't fallen asleep. Her mouth was dry; perhaps a drink of water would help. She flung the covers back and rolled out of bed. Then she yanked the door open...and stepped through the doorway into one hundred percent lean muscle causing her to fall back. A large, warm hand wrapped around her forearm and steadied her against a hard, bare chest.

  Heat from Bryce's body radiated into her. He stayed steady on his crutches, yet she teetered on her feet.

  "You okay?"

  She felt dazed.

  "Markie?"

  "Yeah. I didn't see you."

  She pressed her palm to his pectoral. It was hard and hot, naked and soft. He inched back, now a bit unsteady on his crutches. The whole while she kept her hand in place. She wasn't done feeling him yet. In fact, her other hand wanted a feel, too, so she lifted that one and did the same as she edged her whole body closer to him.

  "Markie, I can't."

  Though he'd said those words, he made no move to push her away, sending her a different signal.

  She slid her hands along his warm skin until they reached his neck, then she wrapped her fingers around him and pulled him toward her. He moved easily, crutches and all. His lips met hers in a light caress.

  Bryce's large hands slid down her sides and then linked at the small of her back. He pulled her tightly to his body. Oh how she wanted his hands under her short, silky nightgown.

  His tongue slid over the seam of her lips, and she parted them. He deepened the kiss. The slow strokes of his tongue increased in pace and explored farther in her mouth. His hands slid up the inside of her nightgown. The hot flesh of his palms scorched a path up her sides and he didn't stop until he eased them between their bodies to cup her breasts. Holy hell, his touch felt good.

  Markie unlinked her fingers from around Bryce's neck and slowly skimmed them downward as he continued to kiss her senseless. God, this guy can kiss. She slipped her fingers under the waistband of his pajamas—

  Bryce sprang back like she'd slapped him or something.

  Even in the dark hallway, she could make out the fear in his eyes.

  "Are you okay?"

  He swallowed audibly.

  She lifted her hand to touch his face and he leaned back. "Bryce?"

  "I'm sorry, Markie. I...I just can't do this."

  He looked so frightened, and his voice was unsteady; she wasn't sure what to say or do to not make matters worse. "It's okay."

  He sighed and hung his head. "It's not you. It's me."

  The old, It's not you, it's me, conversation irritated her, but only briefly, because in this case she believed him. He had something going on. Something he needed to work through.


  "Bryce, it's fine."

  He lifted his head. "No, it's not. You're wonderful. You're smart and beautiful, and you deserve better."

  "Better than what?"

  After a long intake of breath, he let it out slow. "Someone whole. You deserve someone whole."

  This was all about his missing limb? Was he kidding?

  "Are you referring to your leg, because if you are..."

  "No...yes...well sort of."

  "I can't believe you think so little of me."

  "Excuse me?"

  Markie planted her hands on her hips. "You think I'm so superficial I'd care about your leg?"

  "No, this isn't coming out right." He ran his hand through his hair. "It's just the opposite. I think so much of you I don’t want to burden you with my issues."

  So much pain emitted from his gaze she debated just letting him off the hook and revisiting this uncomfortable conversation later, but she couldn't. She needed to know what bruised him so badly he'd push her away.

  "I'm really not following you here. I've worked with you for two years. You seem to have your shit together, so I'm not sure what you are talking about."

  Bryce inched back with his crutches and leaned against the wall. She was sure he was about to just end the conversation and go back to bed until he squared back to her, and looked her in the eyes. His serious gaze scared her. Was he sick or something?

  "My leg was not my only injury caused when an IED exploded under my truck." He paused but continued to hold her gaze. "I had another injury and as a result—I may never be able to father children, and I just don't know..."

  Her heart cracked in half for this man in front of her. This explained a lot. He pushed women away so he wouldn't have to deal with the real issue at hand. This also explained why he hung out with the Tiana's of the world. They weren't important to him, so he didn't have to worry about his issue.

  Thrill snapped through her like a whip with the realization he really cared about her. He cared enough to tell her his deep, dark secret. He put himself out there to her. Going all in to see how she'd react.

  Her heart hammered in her chest. This had to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

  Markie leaned in and pressed her lips to his. After a moment, he kissed her back. Long, slow, meaningful kisses. She'd take it as slow as he needed. Another layer to Bryce Hawk had been peeled back. Success. Good God he could kiss.

  Chapter Ten

  Bryce woke up with Markie curled under his arm. Her small, soft hand lay flat against his chest. Silky stands of her shiny, red hair tickled his chin. Her warm body molded perfectly to his, and that hint of cocoanut scent of hers nearly drove him insane.

  They'd fallen asleep in the wee morning hours exhausted from kissing. She didn't push him for any more than what he was willing to give. He wanted to give much more than he did, but his will wasn't enough to overcome the fear—insecurity—that haunted him. What if he couldn't perform because of his injury? What if he couldn't satisfy her? A woman like her deserved a whole man. But, dammit, he couldn't seem to let her go last night. If ever there was a woman he wanted to try and make love with, it was her. But how could he be sure of himself without actually trying? Failing in front of Markie would be devastating.

  She shifted and stretched, then lifted her head and fixed those piercing emerald eyes on him. Her tussled, red hair looked sexy as sin.

  "Good morning."

  Her lovely smile caused his heart to skip a beat. "Morning."

  She shimmied up and pressed her lips lightly to his before glancing at the clock on her nightstand. He'd done the same moments ago to see how much time they had. Unfortunately, it was only minutes...or was that fortunate for him? Any more time in this bed with this woman would likely have him on top of her, and that, he wasn't ready to try yet.

  She sighed. "I guess I have to get ready for work."

  Markie rolled over and off the bed. He watched as she walked toward the master bathroom in a little nightgown that hardly covered her butt-cheeks. He wished it hadn't.

  Once in the doorway, she stopped and looked back. "There's towels in the wall cabinet in the other bathroom, and anything else you should need."

  "Thanks."

  He waited for her to shut the door before he made a move for his crutches. Just because she knew about his leg didn't mean he was comfortable with her seeing its stump.

  The shower started. The old Bryce, the man before the accident, would have been in that shower with her, lathering up that shapely body of hers.

  Anxiety gripped his chest. The new Bryce couldn't.

  He made his way to the bedroom he was supposed to have used, grabbed a change of clothes, the new toiletry bag, and slipped into the hall bathroom. Though the hot spray of the shower stung his burned and sliced up hands, the rest of his weary body welcomed the soothing water. The pain, however, triggered the memory as to why they were sore. Someone tried to kill him.

  Who?

  Once he and Markie got to work, they parted ways, she to her side of the building and him to his.

  It didn't take but an hour for her and Captain Tomie to be knocking on his door. The expressions on their faces let him know it wasn't good news. Hopefully, it wasn't a report in regard to another murdered property maintenance client.

  "What's the matter?"

  They stepped in his office and sat.

  "We just got a call from a long-lost niece of Edwin Hulbert," Tomie blurted out “She's pissed. Evidently, he left everything to you. A pretty decent sized estate.”

  Bryce wheeled back from his computer and spun his chair to face the captain more directly.

  "What? Me? Why?" The words came out in a stutter.

  The man shrugged. "She was at the lawyer's office this morning, and that's what the man told her. Then he showed her the will. I take it the lawyer hasn't called you yet?"

  He shook his head and gestured, palms in the air disbelievingly. "No, this is the first I'm hearing about it. But I still don't know why he would do that."

  "Evidently, neither does she," Markie added. "The real problem is she is going to cause trouble for you."

  "What do you mean?"

  Markie and her superior exchanged a wary glance. "We looked at her social media accounts, and she's already spouting that you murdered her uncle for the inheritance."

  His body tensed. "Is she crazy? So I'd murder someone for a few old cars and a homestead dating back to, I don’t know, the early 1900s?"

  Another mindful glance was exchanged between Markie and the captain.

  "Evidently, Edwin saved every dime he'd ever made. According to his niece, the estate is worth almost a million dollars."

  His heart thudded. Holy shit. No wonder his niece was pissed.

  "This isn't looking good. She's going to make a stink about this and bring a lot more bad press to City Hall," Tomie said.

  He was still speechless. A million dollars.

  "Bryce?" Markie snapped her fingers.

  He zoned in on her. "I had no idea. Where did this niece come from? I thought Edwin was alone."

  "She's been estranged from him for a while. Her dad and uncle had a falling out decades ago. Her dad has since died. Judging from her social media posts, I'm guessing she's broke, and this was quite a blow to her. We're waiting to hear back from the lawyer," Markie informed.

  Did he dare confirm his thoughts? "Is there any chance she knew of this before today...before my house blew up?"

  Markie reached toward him and placed her comforting hand on his arm. "We're checking into that."

  He blew out a breath and sighed. A week ago, everything was normal, on auto pilot. And in such a short time, everything had gone to hell. He'd been questioned about two murders and had been nearly killed himself.

  Well, not everything went to hell. There was the matter of the beautiful woman sitting across from him. At least he knew she believed he had nothing to do with the murders of Edwin and Sister Ann.

  "So, this ni
ece had a motive," Bryce stated.

  "Yep. We've sent an officer to pick her up for questioning." Captain Tomie's phone buzzed, and he pulled it from the holder on his hip and glanced at the screen. "We gotta go." He looked at him. "You sit tight. We'll be back. Oh, and if you hear from the lawyer, patch him through to one of us. I'd like to find out more about Edwin's niece, or if he knows why the man didn't leave her anything in the will."

  Captain and Markie got up. "Bryce, for your own safety, don't leave the building today," Tomie urged.

  He nodded in understanding.

  They left his office and Bryce dropped his head in his hands. What in the hell?

  A few hours later, he got a call from Captain Tomie requesting he meet them at the police department office.

  The receptionist buzzed him in, then he headed to the captain's office. Markie was already in there. The expressions on both their faces said it all. His pulse ratcheted up a notch.

  "Who died now?"

  Tomie cleared his throat. "Junior Willming. Looks suspicious."

  Another one of his property maintenance accounts. The air drained from his lungs. This wasn't looking good; however, at least he had an alibi. He’d been at Markie's—all night—and in his office all day, with plenty of witnesses.

  "How?"

  "A broken handled spade buried in his chest."

  Shit. Probably the same spade Junior threatened to hit him with the last time he was there. The one he'd grabbed to defend himself. His gut clenched. His fingerprints were going to be on that thing.

  "Any leads?" Bryce asked.

  Markie and the captain shared a somber glance.

  "There was a piece of evidence left behind."

  The lovely redhead squirmed in her chair. Her gaze hit the floor.

  "What was it?" he asked, knowing it wasn't going to be good.

  She slowly lifted her head. "Your business card was found in his mouth."

  Anxiety swirled in his stomach. Was she really going to go there after what they'd shared the night before? Did she really think he was capable of something like this?

  Wait. No. He was in the good. He'd been with her all night, and then at work all day.