The Crushing Depths

by Dani Pettrey

  “Next time?” She smiled. Her gaze fluttered to the ground, then lifted and locked back on his. “I didn’t scare you away?”

  “Not at all.” He rested his left hand on the table, both arms now encircling her. He moved ever so slightly closer and swallowed, his throat parched. “And . . . I’m not scaring you away?”

  Her mouth was so close, he could feel her breath tickling his chin.

  She shook her head.

  He reached up and cupped the back of her neck, his fingers spreading through her hair, then leaned in close, whispering against her ear. “This doesn’t scare you?”

  “No.” She inched closer to him. “Should it?”

  It scared him. Not the fact that he loved her, but the depth and intensity of his love was like nothing he’d ever experienced.

  He shifted to face her, his gaze dropping to her lips. He hovered over them, their noses touching, and pressed his forehead to hers. He didn’t want to push too hard, too fast.

  “Do you want me to move?” he asked, praying with everything in him she said no, but he had to be sure she wanted this as badly as him.

  “Yes,” she murmured against his lips.

  His stomach dropped, but he shifted to step back.

  She grabbed ahold of his shirttail, halting him. “Wrong way.”

  Adrenaline coursed through his veins. “Rissi,” he whispered, as his lips melded with hers.

  Years of longing, wanting, loving . . . flooded into the single, earth-shattering kiss.

  Mason held Rissi’s hand as they walked up her porch. Their remaining time together ticked down to seconds.

  She rested her shoulder against the doorframe, keys jingling in her hands. She looked up at him with a sweet smile. Man, she took his breath away.

  “It was sweet of you, but you really didn’t have to drive home with me.”

  “Of course I didn’t have to,” he said, stepping closer. The jangling wind chimes competed with his pulse whooshing through his ears. He brushed a strand of silky hair behind her ear and dipped his head as he said, “You are the strongest, bravest, most capable woman I know, but . . .” He paused with a shake of his head. “Nah, it’s getting too late. I better go.”

  “But what?”

  “It can wait.”

  “What can?”

  “I was going to tell you a story, but”—he looked at his watch—“it’s late, and we have to be at the station in a handful of hours.”

  “And you have to meet Jason and Brad in less than that for your swim.”

  His brows hiked up. “How’d you know about that?”

  “They told me while you were giving me a heart attack searching for Max.”

  “I had to try.”

  “I know. So did Jason. He said your exploits in Kodiak were legendary.”

  A smile cracked on his lips. “Oh, he did, did he?”

  She ran her hand along the edge of his jacket. “Mmm-hmm.”

  He swept a hand through his hair. “He needs to get some new stories.”

  “Not until he tells me some of those. And speaking of stories, I want to hear yours.”

  “Okay, but the quick version and then you get some shut-eye. Deal?”

  “Only if you will too.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” He looked around. “Why don’t we sit on the swing.” He gestured to the porch swing with oversized mandala-patterned pillows on it.

  He waited until she sat and then took the seat beside her, his knee touching hers—the only illumination was the glow from her porch light and the full moon overhead.

  She propped her elbow on the back of the swing and rested her head on her hand. “Story time, mister.”

  He rubbed his thighs. “Okay, so the reason I asked if I could see you home was because of something that happened in boot camp.”

  She waited for him to continue.

  “So, I was a lowly recruit. It was my first week in, and we were all marching to chow. We stopped outside the mess hall to wait for our turn to enter, and I saw Senior Chief Harding.”

  He shifted sideways to better face her. “Picture a grizzled Lou Gossett Jr. from An Officer and a Gentleman. He never cracked a smile. Never relaxed his . . . well, anything. So the base XO was heading for the chow hall. As she neared the senior chief, he ripped the most perfect, crisp salute I’d ever seen. She returned it, and then he dashed to the door to hold it open as she entered.

  “Time passed,” he continued, “and in week six, I was interviewing for recruit company commander because our current one got rolled back. During the interview, Senior Chief was talking about military bearing. He asked if I had any questions, and I couldn’t help myself. I asked about his salute and then breaking ranks as he hurried to open the door for the XO.”

  The breeze riffled through Rissi’s hair, and the scent of pineapple wafted on the wind. His mind snagged. Pineapple? Must be her lotion or shampoo. Whatever it was, he’d never imagined it could smell so good.

  Refocusing on the story so he could finish up and she could get some shut-eye, he jumped back in. “That was the first and only time I saw Senior Chief smile. He went on to explain that there’s military bearing and gentlemanly bearing and that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. That talk anchored in my brain.”

  She cupped his face. “I love that.” Her gaze dropped to his lips, and closing the distance between them, she kissed him tenderly, then stood and headed for her door. “’Night, Mason. Sleep well.”

  He’d try, but after that kiss . . . not likely. Maybe the brisk night air slapping his face on his walk home would shake him out of his stupor.

  He waited until Rissi was inside and he heard the dead bolt click in place before he turned for the sidewalk. He shrugged his hands into his pockets and released an exhale, an edge of concern clinging to him. There was no need for worry. Rissi could most certainly take care of herself, but things were shifting. Someone had been following them. The question was who and, more importantly, why?

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Despite being short on sleep, Rissi woke early. She jabbed the punching bag in her guest room, trying to work out the energy still pulsing through her from their kiss . . . kisses. She hit the bag with an uppercut, once, twice, a third time. Her limbs warmed, sweat beading on her brow. She still couldn’t believe they’d admitted their feelings for each other, let alone kissed.

  She took a deep inhale and released it. Pulling off her gloves, she grabbed her terry cloth towel and swiped it across her forehead. Her water bottle rested on the bedroom window ledge. She grabbed it, managed to drop it on the floor with a clang, then retrieved it. She shook out her hands. Maybe she’d been going too long. She looked at the maize bag and decided to work on her hooks tomorrow morning instead. She glanced at the analog clock on the wall. She was cutting it close. She’d just had so much energy buzzing through her when she woke. She closed her eyes, feeling Mason’s lips on hers again. Her teenage dream had come true, but as an adult, it was even sweeter—deeper and far more powerful. Things like this didn’t just happen.

  Thank you, Jesus. This was all you. How can I thank you for all you’ve done?

  She shifted her head side to side while shaking out her heated arms.

  Her doorbell rang, and she looked once again at the clock—0630. A little early for visitors. Grabbing her Glock off the side table, she moved for the door. Not one to be paranoid, it felt odd having her guard up at home, but after last night’s follow, it was better to be packing than sorry.

  Gun in hand, she stood to the side of the door. “Who is it?”

  “Caleb.”

  She lowered the gun, slipped it into the back of her workout capris, and opened the door.

  Caleb stood on her porch with two iced coffees and a ribboned bakery box. “I thought we could share breakfast.”

  “Sure. Just let me get cleaned up.”

  “What’s with the extra security?” he said, gesturing to her Glock. “And you never ask who it is, though I repea
tedly ask you to.”

  Mason had also asked. She wasn’t sharing that with Caleb. He’d been asking her for years, and now Mason asks, and she decides it’s a good idea. But given the circumstances . . . “We were followed last night.”

  “What happened?” he asked, setting the bakery box and her coffee down on the turquoise runner atop the buffet table.

  “We were leaving the Outer Banks.”

  He frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

  “I couldn’t sleep, so we went sandboarding.”

  He arched a brow. “We?” A mixture of wariness and hope hung on his handsome face.

  She bit her bottom lip. This was going to hurt him, and that’s the last thing she wanted to do. “Me and Mason.”

  “I see.” His expression and voice held even. “Why don’t you get cleaned up before the cinnamon buns get cold.”

  “Samantha’s Bakery?”

  “Your favorite.” He smiled, but it lacked his usual joy when it was just the two of them.

  “I’ll be down in ten,” she said, hurrying up the stairs.

  After a quick shower, she pulled on black knit shorts and her Sharks T-shirt she’d gotten at the last game. Running a brush through her hair, she left it to air dry.

  She found Caleb enjoying his coffee on the front porch. He handed her the iced drink, which looked suspiciously like the Hawaiian High she often ordered.

  “How did you . . . ?”

  “Lindy told me it’s your favorite.”

  “She’s such a sweetheart.” Rissi took a seat in the rocker beside him and swallowed an indulgent first sip.

  Caleb arched a brow. “Good?”

  “Mmm-hmmm.”

  “Try one of these.” He offered her one of the gooey cinnamon buns on a paper plate that had been in a slit in the side of the box. “Be careful,” he said, handing it over. “It’s warm.”

  The scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and sugary glaze swirled beneath her nose. She shifted the plate from her lap to her hands. Caleb was right, they were warm. Warm enough to make the bottom of the plate resting atop her bare legs a bit too hot.

  So he’d gone to Hunga Bunga Java’s and Samantha’s. Was today going to be the day she’d been dreading? It was past time, but her heart still ached over the thought of hurting him. He was her friend.

  She swiped a dollop of icing from the corner of her mouth before it plopped on her top. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “No problem.” He took a sip and set his cup on the porch floor. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  Her heart sank. She knew it.

  Caleb inhaled. “I know you don’t feel the same way I do.”

  “Caleb, I—” She set her plate on the edge of the planter table beside her.

  “Please,” he said. “Let me get this out.”

  She nodded.

  He cleared his throat. “I should have said something when these feelings started, but I didn’t want you to feel any pressure. Then I was nervous about your answer, and then . . . time slipped away. Now it’s too late.” He looked at her. “It is too late, isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t that it was too late. It was simply that she didn’t share those feelings for him, but there was no need to go there. It would only hurt him. So she nodded instead.

  Caleb took a stiff inhale. “I thought so.”

  “Caleb, I hope you know how much you mean to me. As a friend. As a teammate.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He cupped his hand over hers. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You either care for someone romantically or you don’t. Your heart belongs somewhere else. I knew it the first time I saw you and Mason together.”

  Words tumbled in her mind, but the right ones wouldn’t come.

  He squeezed her hand, then pulled it back and stood.

  “Please, stay and have breakfast,” she said.

  “Actually, I think I’ll get in a short run before work.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” A soft smile creased his lips. “I’ll see you at the station.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the roll and coffee.”

  “You’re welcome.” He paused at the edge of her porch and looked back at her. “I’m happy for you. You know that, right?”

  Tears beaded in her eyes. He was such a good man. A good friend. She nodded.

  He turned and strode to his car.

  She watched him pull away, praying God would bring him the woman created for him.

  Rissi ran in to Hunga Bunga Java. She’d volunteered to grab coffee for the team on her way into work. It allowed her to pick one of the drinks of the day each morning without making someone else call her with the specials.

  She decided to order another Hawaiian High—espresso, almond milk, chocolate, coconut, and banana. Even after downing one less than an hour earlier, she savored the first sip.

  “You must really like those,” Lindy said.

  “It’s amazing.” Best espresso drink. Ever.

  “Excellent.” Lindy, being the manager of Hunga Bunga Java, handled all the drink creations. She also picked up shifts at Dockside. Rissi admired her. It couldn’t be easy holding down two jobs and raising one adorable son all on her own. But when her husband up and left, he’d given Lindy no choice.

  “Want the usual for the rest of the gang?” she asked.

  “Yep. Plus, one . . .” Rissi studied the specialty drink list, wondering which Mason would like. Mason . . . How was she going to walk into work and act like nothing had happened between them?

  “One?” Lindy asked.

  “Oh. Sorry. Brain hasn’t kicked in today.” It hadn’t kicked back in since Mason’s lips first touched hers.

  She exhaled. It was going to be a long day. “Let’s try the Italian Slammer.”

  “You got it, darling.”

  Her hands full of carrying trays and a bag of bakery items, Rissi maneuvered her way into the car and settled everything in place for the remainder of the ride into work. Her heart thumped in her chest, her pulse hammering in her ears.

  Please, Father, help me focus. Help me to be professional and guide me and Mason through it all. Amen.

  Reversing out of the drive, she pulled onto the main road leading back to the station. When she hit play on her iPod, Chris LeDoux started singing “Riding for a Fall” in that gravelly voice she loved.

  As she arrived at the office parking lot, she found Mason leaning against the grill of his Impala.

  Had he been waiting for her?

  Tingles shot through her. Calm down, girl.

  He strode to her and, draping his arm along the roof, leaned in the opened window. “Can I help you carry anything?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. That’d be great.” She collected the first drink carrier and handed it through the window to Mason.

  “One more,” she said, handing him the second one.

  She grabbed the bakery items and her purse, then realized she still had bare feet. She felt around the floorboard with her right foot. Finally touching one of her flats, she slipped her foot inside.

  “Need help in there?” Mason asked, setting the drink trays on the hood of her Fiat.

  “No. I’m okay,” she said, completely stretched out across the passenger-side floorboard.

  He came around to the passenger door, opened it, and bent down. A moment later, he held up her shoe. “Allow me,” he said, slipping his fingers around her ankle. He lifted her foot toward him, pausing for the briefest of moments, then he trailed his finger along the arch of her foot.

  She swallowed, her mouth parched.

  He slipped her foot in the flat and stood.

  “Thanks,” she managed to mutter.

  He retrieved the drink carriers from the hood of her car and gestured with a lift of his head for her to enter first.

  Now, if only she could walk straight.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “All right. Everyone is here,” Noah said. “
Grab your coffees, and let’s hit the case board. We’ve got some major updates.”

  Mason sat on Rissi’s right, but this time Caleb sat on the far end of the couch. Emmy sank down beside her and whispered, “Hey, lady.”

  She smiled. “Hi, Em.”

  “We need to talk after this.”

  “Okay. Good talk or bad?”

  “Depends who you are,” she whispered.

  Noah stood at the case board, staring at the new dry erase markers lined up on the silver tray.

  He lifted one. Neon pink.

  Rissi tried to stifle a laugh, but her amusement squeaked out.

  Noah dipped his head, his brows arching as he pinned his gaze on Emmy. “Neon now? And pink of all colors?”

  Emmy crossed one leg over the other. Rissi didn’t remember ever seeing her in dress pants. Usually it was a skirt or dress, but she looked adorable as always with the navy slacks and a white blouse with blue polka dots and frilled fabric at the edge of her shoulders. “Neon is back in,” she said.

  Noah just shook his head. Rissi was tempted to remind him it was his own fault. When Em volunteered to be in charge of purchasing office supplies, he’d jumped on the offer. But Em had warned him that she’d find a way to bring light into the darkness they often encountered at work.

  Eighties-colored markers were definitely a hit in Rissi’s book.

  “You said you had some big updates,” she said, trying to shift the heat off Emmy.

  “Yes,” Noah said. “Let’s start with Caleb.”

  “Right.” Caleb explained how he and Noah had spent yesterday afternoon and what they’d learned thus far. “We plan on sitting down today and combing through the file Austin Kelly provided.”

  “We knew there wasn’t something quite right about Gwyneth,” Mason said, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, shifting ever so slightly closer to Rissi in the movement.

  Rissi bit back a smile. She loved him so near, but she re-targeted her focus on the casework ahead. “Let us know what you find.”

  “Of course.” Noah nodded. “Now, let’s dig into the excitement you two had yesterday.” His astute gaze shifted between her and Mason. Warmth flooded her cheeks. He was talking about the follow, wasn’t he? She inhaled. Noah was an excellent investigator. Surely, he saw the shift between her and Mason. She had to do her best to keep their relationship out of the workplace, at least until she and Mason knew where things would go, but she was jumping the gun.