Divorced, Desperate and Dead

by Christie Craig

  “Anything else?” The question came with suggestions.

  For a second, she forgot about her best friend waiting to walk down the aisle, forgot about her responsibility. Forgot about that damn fence she was on. She wanted to drop her arms holding up her dress, turn around and let him show her just how good of a bad boy he was.

  The wedding music brought her back to her senses. Chloe was for sure hyperventilating now, sweating in her white dress. Sheri yanked her bra out.

  “Now zip me.” She ordered all thoughts of naughty touches from her mind. They took their sweet time leaving.

  He took even sweeter time finding the tab on the zipper. Touching. Tempting. Teasing.

  “Sheri?” She heard her name called in desperation.

  “Faster,” she ordered. “We gotta go.” As soon as the zipper reached the top, she swung around and dumped the bra in the trash can. Looping her arm with his, she started hotfooting down the hall.

  “We’d better hurry.”

  “You really messed up this time.” Danny matched her pace. Not hard considering his height and long legs.

  “What?” She cut him a quick glance and caught his eyes on her free-range breasts. But hey, they were level and not hurting. Free range worked.

  He glanced up. “You aren’t supposed to outshine the bride.”

  She half laughed, half moaned and half still wanted to fall off that dang fence. “And here I thought you were a smooth-talker.”

  “That wasn’t smooth enough for you?” His teasing tone had a masculine quality to it that every good girl feared.

  “Oh, it’s smooth, but I heard that line in a movie.”

  “Probably. Writers are always stealing my best lines,” he said. “It doesn’t make it less true.” He bumped her shoulder. His scent, musky men’s soap, teased her senses. She inhaled it all the way to the bottom of her lungs.

  She laughed without meaning to. “Stop playing with fire,” she said, and told herself the same thing. The sound of the music grew louder as she cut the corner—almost back to the front where the wedding party waited.

  “What’s that mean?” he asked.

  “Please, I know for a fact that Cary has prohibited you from getting too friendly with me.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice a mere whisper and his smile dimming. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?” she asked, before she could stop herself. But hey, perhaps it didn’t hurt to flirt a little. She could probably use the practice before her big date next week with Mr. Almost next week.

  “That makes you forbidden fruit. And I really like forbidden fruit.” His tone went sultry, sexy and suggestive.

  God, this guy was bold. He probably was good, too. Too bad she wasn’t into casual, and really hot, sex. “You are a bad boy, aren’t you?”

  His smile lost power. “What have you heard?”

  She hesitated and then decided to be honest. “That a pack of bubble gum lasts longer than your relationships.”

  His frown came with frustration. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Are you saying it’s not true?”

  “I’m saying don’t believe everything you hear.”

  “Now you’ve got me curious,” she said, noting a look of disappointment in his eyes. Could Chloe be wrong about him?

  “Curiosity is good,” he said and almost smiled.

  “Yeah, but it also killed the cat.”

  Chapter One

  Six Months Later

  At five-thirty on Halloween, Detective Danny Henderson and five other officers working with the narcotics unit piled out of the police van and rushed around the corner to the house where the drug deal was going down. If their sources were right, Brian McCune, a known gang leader and all-around bad guy, was in that house right now, swapping his backpack of cocaine for a briefcase of hundred dollar bills.

  Not that that was all he was guilty of. That was only the tip of the iceberg, but it was a damn good place to start.

  Slowing down at the side of the house, Danny pointed the rest of the task force to their positions. The sun hung in the western sky, making the world appear golden, peaceful. The sun lied.

  The tension echoed in the way all the officers carried themselves. They loved their jobs, but none of them loved it enough to die.

  Everyone had on bullet-proof vests. They weren’t kidding themselves. McCune and his gangbangers were hotheads. If they thought they could shoot their way out of this, shoot they would.

  Cary Stevens, fellow officer and friend, offered Danny a got-your-back nod.

  Turner, another good friend, did the same. Ramon Marco, the new guy at the precinct and Danny’s bar buddy since both Cary and Turner had gone and gotten themselves hitched, moved in a little closer to Danny.

  “Let’s go get some bad guys,” Ramon said, his attempt at humor telling another story men didn’t like to tell. Fear wasn’t just for wimps. As he stepped back, he added, “Watch yourself. I need my wingman.”

  “Ditto.” Danny did another check to make sure everyone was in place. He cut his hand through the air, giving the signal.

  Gun in hand, he and Cary charged up the small porch, each of them holding position at opposite sides of the door.

  Trick or treat, Danny thought, but said, “Police!”

  Danny kicked in the door. He’d expected three guys. Wrong. Six bad guys reached for their guns. No trick. No treat. Unless you counted the gunfire that exploded.

  Shouts rang out. The last thing Danny heard before he took a bullet was Turner yelling, “Officer down!”

  • • •

  Sheri accepted the glass of cabernet her best friend handed her.

  “The wicked witch?” Chloe asked, looking at Sheri’s costume.

  “Yup.” The floor-length sequined black gown, paired with a pointed black hat, had been her last-minute, pulled-together costume.

  “So how’s your cold today?” Chloe picked up Pooch, the bad-attitude animal she and her husband called a dog but looked more like a deformed squirrel, especially when wearing a pumpkin costume.

  Cold? “It must have been allergies.”

  “You lying wicked witch!” Chloe dropped the costumed dog and plopped her butt in a chair. “You didn’t use the cold excuse yesterday. It was the stomach flu defense. And you claimed to have a cold for the barbecue last month. So ’fess up!”

  Sheri took a sip of wine, hoping the alcohol would help her wiggle out of this jam, because yeah, she was lying.

  Chloe pointed a finger at her. And when Chloe’s finger came out . . .

  “You haven’t come to one of my parties since Cary and I got married,” Chloe’s tone rang a pitch too loud. “Who are you avoiding? It’s not me. We see each other all the time. It’s not my husband, because you come over to our place when it’s just us.”

  Sheri’s mind raced to come up with a believable piece of fiction. She hated calling it lying. “I didn’t want to tell you, because I know how much you worry about me, but . . . if you must know, I’ve developed a . . . phobia of crowds.”

  “Really?”

  “Crazy, right?”

  Chloe lifted her left brow. “What concert was it you went to last weekend?”

  Sheri gave her wine a good swirl and watched the rich red color race around the glass. “Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing. It doesn’t affect me when there’s music involved.”

  “You came to my girls’ night out,” Chloe said in her analytical tone. “So it’s not any of the female friends.”

  “Don’t overthink this,” Sheri pleaded.

  “So it’s a male.” Chloe deduced. “Single, because you’re not other-woman material.”

  “Why am I not other-woman material?” Sheri asked, hoping to derail Chloe’s direct path to the truth.

  “That means it could be Eddie, Ramon or . . . shit! You slept with Danny!”

  “Noooo.” And she hadn’t slept with him. Well, she’d dozed briefly. But he hadn’t.

&
nbsp; “When did this happen?” Chloe asked.

  Saved by the bell. Or rather the music and lyrics of “I Will Always Love You.” A sign it was Chloe’s husband calling her, which was so sweet but also a tad nauseating.

  Chloe snatched up the phone. Whenever Cary called and was at work, Chloe always answered the phone twice as fast. She claimed to have come to terms with the fact that her husband was a cop, but Sheri knew her friend worried.

  “Everything okay?” Chloe asked and then held her breath.

  Sheri took another sip of wine, debating making a run for it, but when her best friend’s eyes instantly clouded with terror, leaving wasn’t an option.

  “Oh, God.” Chloe put her fingers to her trembling lips.

  Sheri touched Chloe’s arm, feeling her friend’s pain without even knowing what it was.

  “How bad is Danny?” Chloe asked.

  Air hitched in Sheri’s throat. Danny?

  “Is he going to make it?” Chloe asked.

  Instantly Sheri remembered how it felt to lay against Danny’s bare chest, how sweet his kisses were and how they had spent most of the night laughing and talking. That part had been as good as the sex. And that was saying a lot, because it had been the best sex she’d ever had.

  “What hospital?” Chloe paused. “I’m coming up.” She hung up and shot out of her chair.

  Sheri grabbed her best friend’s arm. “Is Danny . . . ?”

  Chloe blinked and stared. “You care about him, don’t you?”

  “No.” The you-just-lied knot crowded Sheri’s tonsils. “I’m dating Patrick.”

  “You told me he wasn’t . . . doing it for you.”

  Sheri frowned. “I’m having second thoughts. Forget Patrick!” And it was easy to do. “Is Danny okay?”

  “He got hit in the arm, but he’s fine. It’s Ramon. He’s in surgery. And the doctors aren’t sure if he’ll pull through.”

  A weight, a Danny-induced weight, lifted off Sheri. “I hope he makes it.”

  “Me, too.” Chloe studied her. “Do you want to come?”

  Sheri contemplated it. Then logic intervened. “No, I’m . . .”

  “Coming down with a cold?” Chloe grabbed her purse and keys from the counter. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” she snapped over her shoulder. “Lock up, and set the candy on the porch when you leave.” The request was punctuated by the too-loud whack of the closing door.

  Sheri sat there, her emotions about Danny stirring up memories she’d previously sent packing. And with them came emotions she’d thought she’d moved past.

  When her phone rang, she yanked it out of her purse, eager for a distraction.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said after seeing the number. “What’s up?”

  “My baby is turning twenty-nine,” her mom said. “You’re making me old.”

  “No, I’m not. Didn’t you hear? I sold my birthday on eBay,” Sheri said.

  Her mom’s laugh sounded like soft music—music Sheri hadn’t heard enough of lately. Was her mom finally moving past her grief?

  “I made our reservations for your birthday dinner for six on Sunday,” her mother said. “I have something special for you. And I need you to save the following Wednesday for me as well.”

  “What for?” Sheri stood and moved into the living room. Her gaze went to a bookshelf where a framed picture of her and Chloe in first grade held a prime spot. Sheri had the same picture at her house. The two of them were more like sisters than friends. Then her gaze shifted to the second framed photograph of Chloe’s husband and his two good friends. Her attention lingered on the blond in the photo, his bad-boy charm apparent even in the snapshot. She put a finger over Danny’s face.

  “Wayside Church is opening the new wing, and they are naming it after your father.”

  Just like that, Sheri’s emotional dilemma changed channels.

  “They’re having a ceremony and everything.” Excitement made her mother’s tone almost too high.

  Only because you donated fifty thousand to them. Sheri closed her eyes. Her mom, finally in cancer remission after an almost two-year battle, was still fragile. Hurting her was the last thing Sheri wanted to do, but . . .

  “I know you have issues with your dad’s service to them, but it would really be nice if you went with me. I’ve even invited Bradley.”

  Sheri’s grip on the phone tightened with her chest. She didn’t have issues with her dad’s service. Or even Bradley, her father’s illegitimate son—who, by the way, didn’t want a relationship with them. She had issues with her dad.

  For her mom, her father’s death, or maybe his remaining sober for the last six months of his life, had absolved him of all sins. Amazingly, even being a preacher’s daughter, Sheri hadn’t found it in herself to forgive.

  “That might be the day I’m working at the animal shelter.”

  “Surely you can find someone to replace you.”

  Yeah, her mom would expect that. Sheri had pretty much catered to her mom’s every whim since her cancer, and even more so since her father died.

  “I really want you there,” her mom said. “It would mean a lot to me.”

  • • •

  Danny, guilt making his shoulders heavy, walked out of the ER and made his way into the surgical waiting room. Still groggy from the meds, he had to pay serious attention to the arrows pointing the way to surgery. He stopped, sure he’d made a wrong turn, when he heard someone, a familiar someone, call his name.

  “You weren’t even going to tell me you’re in my hospital?” Her accusation rang behind him.

  He faced his cousin. “I wasn’t sure you were working tonight.”

  “You should have called me whether I was working or not! You were shot, for God’s sake. I had to find out from another nurse who came and told me!”

  “I was just grazed. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Hurt added another layer of pain to her eyes, and seeing it hurt him. “I worry you all the time, Danny. When my sink is stopped up, when my car battery won’t start, when I’m sure I’m going die from missing Trey.”

  And Anna missed Trey a lot. Not that Danny blamed her. Life could be a bitch sometimes.

  “And you don’t call me when you get shot? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

  “I should have called you, I’m just . . . Another officer, a friend of mine, was shot. It’s bad. I’m trying to get to the surgical waiting room now.”

  Danny’s chest filled with pressure. He’d been the one to set up this bust. If Ramon, his wingman, died, Danny doubted that pressure would ever go away. And living with it would be hell.

  Empathy sounded in Anna’s soft sigh. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

  “Thanks.”

  She looped her arm around his. Something she’d done for years. While just her cousin, Danny had played the part of Anna’s big brother. “You’re the only family I’ve got. I can’t lose you.”

  “Ditto,” he said, the honesty in the one word deepening his voice.

  “This way.” She led him down another hall.

  They walked into the crowded waiting room, filled with families and friends of patients, each in their own kind of hell. So much emotion hung in the air it hurt to breathe. Cary saw them and nodded. Anna headed through the door leading back to the unit.

  “She’s going to check on him,” Danny told Cary as he sat beside him.

  “You should go home.” Cary motioned to his bloody shirt.

  “Not happening,” he told him. “Have you heard anything?” God damn it! Tell me he’s going to live.

  “He’s still in surgery.”

  Anna came back out, and the two men stood up. She leaned in and whispered, “They’re done. The doctor should be out in a minute. They said it went well.”

  “Thanks.” Danny’s chest felt fifty pounds lighter. Who knew guilt weighed so much?

  Anna looked at the door. “I need to get back to work. You okay?”

  He offered her his pat answ
er. “I’m working on it.”

  She pressed a hand on his forearm. “You keep doing that. I get off in an hour if you need a lift home.”

  “I’ll text you.” Danny watched his cousin leave, realizing she really was his only family and vowing to do better by her. After several silent seconds, Danny looked at Cary. “I knew there was a chance McCune and his guys would put up a fight, but I didn’t think—”

  “Don’t start that,” Cary said in a low voice. “This isn’t on you.”

  “It feels like it is.” Danny glanced over at the four Hispanic women sitting in the corner. “Is that his mother and sisters?”

  “Yeah.”

  The fear and love in the older woman’s eyes had Danny’s stomach knotting. He and Ramon had been buds for the last three months. And although Danny hadn’t met Ramon’s family, his friend had talked about his mom and his sisters a lot. About how they drove him crazy, always trying to fix him up since his divorce, but Ramon loved them.

  Loved them the way family was supposed to love each other. Danny’s gaze shifted to the variety of families supporting each other. Some held hands, some rubbed shoulders and others chatted quietly. Family support was something Danny had found from his aunt, her husband and Anna, but not from his own parents.

  Chloe, Cary’s wife, rushed in. Cary popped up, the two met halfway, and they hugged. They held on to each other like a lifeline.

  Danny thought he’d had that once. But no. His ex-wife, Tanya, had taught him how wrong he could be. It was a lesson hard to forget. One that had messed with his head and his heart. One that would sabotage the rest of his life if he couldn’t move past it. So far, he’d proved he couldn’t.

  Cary looked back and waved as he and Chloe stepped outside. Danny sat there, debating going and speaking to Ramon’s family, but lingering guilt kept him planted in his chair. Three minutes later, Cary and Chloe came back in and dropped down beside him. He nodded hello to Chloe, but she glanced away.