Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  Joe drove as fast as he could, found the entire Broslin PD at the house. He pulled up behind the cruisers and walked forward in the cover of the other cars. He nodded to the captain, to Jack, Chase, and Harper, who were huddled behind the first vehicle. They made room for him.

  Paco must have seen him from a window, because the front door opened a crack. “Motherfucking cop!”

  “Hey,” Joe shouted back. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “You come in.”

  The Captain shook his head.

  “You come in, or I’ll pop Grandma and Grandpa,” Paco threatened. “Then I’m gonna shoot up the rest of your sorry asses.”

  Sounded like he was feeling his strength or, more likely, the false strength some drug was giving him. Joe thought about that for a moment. He was trying to go for rational assessment, but all he could see was the Prius with Wendy and Justin as they dangled over the abyss.

  Paco had done that. The little bastard had escaped the dragnet in Philly. Joe couldn’t let him get away again.

  There was a time to play as a team, and then there was a time to hold on to the ball and run with it. Joe held his gun high up in the air and stepped out of cover. “I’m coming in.”

  The Captain swore behind him, but Joe stepped forward before anyone could grab him and yank him back. He tossed his weapon to the ground. “Let them go, Paco. You don’t need them. You got me.”

  He walked slowly, steadily to the door. “You let them out; I come in.”

  The sound of shoes shuffling came from behind the door. An older woman stepped out first, pale and shaking, then her husband behind her, walking with a cane.

  Joe waited until they scrambled down the stairs, then he moved forward. Paco stood a few steps beyond the door, holding his gun on Joe, his eyes bloodshot.

  “Fucking cop.” He motioned Joe in with the weapon.

  He stepped inside.

  Paco scanned him for weapons. “Close the door.”

  Joe did.

  Paco swore in Spanish. “Rashard’s dead.”

  Joe held his jumpy gaze. “That’s a chance you take when you go on a drive-by. I’m more concerned for the innocent jogger.”

  Paco aimed the gun at his head. “Shut up.” Sweat rolled down his forehead.

  “Hey, I got a kid on the way,” Joe told him. “Just found out.”

  “Shut up.”

  “How are your girls?”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  Joe kept his shoulders relaxed. “There are a lot of cops out there.”

  “You lied to me! You’re a fucking liar.”

  “Those girls love you, man, you know they do. The cops out there have nothing on you. They don’t even know for sure if you were involved in the shootout. This here—” He shrugged. “A year or two. You get out. But if you shoot a cop, it’s over. Those girls go to your funeral. That’s how you want them to see you, man?”

  Paco’s finger twitched on the trigger, hate darkening his face. “Motherfucker!”

  Joe stood his ground, calm, keeping things level. “Drop the gun. We walk out together.”

  Behind Paco, he saw Mike duck by the sliding glass door. Joe gave a faint shake of his head, hoping Mike would catch it. Not now. Not yet.

  Joe glanced back at Paco in time to see the change in his eyes. The man’s lips flattened, his knees locked.

  Joe lunged forward, went low, just as Paco discharged his weapon.

  The next second, the whole Broslin PD was in the house, shouting, “Drop your weapon! Drop your weapon!”

  Then Mike and Harper were on top of Paco, crushing Joe in the process, like an old-fashioned football pileup. Joe untangled himself and let them have their target.

  Mike cuffed the guy. Harper read his rights. “You have the right to remain silent.”

  Paco, swearing in Spanish now, drowned out the rest.

  Just so he couldn’t say he didn’t understand his rights, when Harper was done with the words in English, he repeated them to Paco in Spanish.

  Mike yanked the man to his feet, then, since Paco was resisting, Chase stepped in.

  They walked him out, Harper behind them.

  The captain stayed back until only he and Joe remained in the house. “Officer Kessler, if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you’re off my force. Are we clear on that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Bing turned and strode out, looking ready to punch something. Joe gave him a little distance before he walked out behind him.

  An ambulance stood behind the jumble of cruisers, paramedics checking out the old couple. Harper and Mike were wrestling Paco into the back of one of the cruisers.

  Okay, Joe didn’t like seeing the captain’s angry side, but putting the scumbag away felt good. He grinned, in a pretty decent mood when the call came in from Wendy.

  “Are you busy? I’m sorry to bother you at work,” she began. “It’s not a big deal, but I wanted to let you know. It’s nothing serious—”

  The street disappeared from around Joe as he focused on the uncertain tone of her voice. “What is it?”

  “It’s just…I’m bleeding.”

  Deathblow: Chapter Eighteen

  She wasn’t worried. The bleeding was minimal, but she’d called her ob-gyn, and the doctor told Wendy to come in. So Wendy had asked Sophie if she could watch Justin for an hour, and Sophie jumped at the chance.

  If her car hadn’t been in the shop, Wendy would have driven herself to the doctor’s office. Sophie offered her own car, and Wendy almost accepted before thinking that everything that had to do with the baby affected Joe, so she needed to tell him things too, at the very least.

  She didn’t expect him to drop everything to go with her, but that was exactly what he did.

  “I want to be part of our baby’s life,” he told her as they walked to the building. “Every day, all the way.” He took her hand in his, his warm fingers enfolding her cold fingertips.

  She’d been wrong about him. She’d thought he was a player, irresponsible. The truth was, the real Joe was just as impressive as everyone in town thought he was.

  “I’d like that,” she told him.

  They went inside together, and she signed in at the reception desk. She’d barely sat down in the waiting room when her name was called. He didn’t get up, just looked after her with worry in his eyes.

  “You can come back with me, if you’d like,” she offered.

  He was next to her in two steps, taking her hand again. It was the first time she’d seen him worried.

  “It’s probably nothing,” she told him as they walked back together. “All kinds of weird stuff happens to the body during pregnancy. And then everything turns out well at the end.”

  The nurse showed them into the examining room.

  Wendy barely lay down when Dr. Pederick came in.

  “So how much bleeding are we talking about?” the doctor asked after greeting them.

  “Minimal. I wasn’t even sure if I should call.”

  “You should always call.” The woman reached into the top drawer under the counter and pulled out the baby heart-rate monitor. “Have you felt movement yet?”

  “Not yet. But I hadn’t felt any with Justin either at this stage.”

  The doctor pressed the heart-rate monitor to her belly, moved it around, adjusted it. Staticky noises filled the room as always. Wendy held her own breath as she waited for the unmistakable sound of the baby’s rapid heartbeat, similar to galloping horses.

  But no matter how Dr. Pederick adjusted the monitor, those rapid little baby heartbeats never came.

  * * *

  Joe knew something was wrong from the way blood ran out of Wendy’s face.

  But the doctor said, “Hold on. Sometimes it’s hard to get this right. Let’s get the ultrasound cart in here, all right?”

  She moved to the door and called out to the nurse. The five minutes they waited for the ultrasound machine to arrive were the longest five minutes of Joe’s life.r />
  Out came the blue jelly again, then the wand, things he was familiar with from the previous appointment. Wendy’s fingers tightened on his hand as the outline of their little baby came up on the fuzzy screen.

  The doctor did a thorough check. “Let’s poke him a bit.” Her voice was still upbeat. But when she pushed on Wendy’s belly, the baby didn’t move in response. She tried a few more times. Stopped.

  “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head.

  Joe could hear the words, heard Wendy catch her breath, but then for a moment it was as if he’d gone deaf and blind. The world stopped. The little room with its smell of disinfectant and stainless steel counter seemed to drop, drop, drop, like a speed elevator crashing, falling to hell.

  On the bed, Wendy was blinking hard, staring at the monitor.

  When he could hear again, he heard the doctor say, “Let me check for dilation. I need you to put on a gown.” She pulled a green examining gown from the top cabinet, set it on the chair, and stepped outside.

  “Can I stay?” Joe asked, as Wendy said, “Please don’t leave,” in a small voice that broke his heart into a million little pieces.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He helped her change, stayed with her as the doctor came back in and performed an examination.

  “Dilated to one centimeter.”

  Joe kept holding Wendy’s hand. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m sending you over to the hospital.”

  And then came the hardest, darkest hours of his life.

  He stood by Wendy as their baby went to heaven, then he took Wendy home, carried her upstairs. She climbed into bed, curling her body around Justin.

  “I just need sleep,” she said, her voice filled with grief.

  He hesitated in the doorway. He wanted to go and lie down next to her and fold her into his arms, but he didn’t deserve comfort from her. This was his fault. He’d let Keith get to her. So he padded downstairs where Sophie and Peaches waited.

  Sophie came to him and gave him a big hug, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” Words couldn’t express how sorry he was.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  He shook his head. “Thank you for taking care of Justin. I think Wendy will sleep now. They gave her drugs at the hospital. Maybe you could come by tomorrow.” He hesitated. “To offer feminine support.” He made a helpless gesture with his hands. “I’m not sure what to do.”

  Sophie gave him a sad smile, an even sadder look in her red-streaked eyes. “You’re giving her exactly what she needs. Protection and support.”

  “I didn’t protect her yesterday.” The knowledge of that was a knife in his heart.

  “Nobody could have known that Keith would come here. You had Mike watching the house.”

  It didn’t matter. Wendy had been hurt. The baby was lost. He couldn’t forgive himself that.

  * * *

  Wendy rose from bed for breakfast. Justin needed his mother, so she couldn’t give in to her grief. She’d been too weak for too long. Never again.

  “How are you this morning?” Joe asked when she went downstairs.

  “I’m okay.”

  He nodded, his expression closed. “Off to work. I’ll see you later.”

  Chase replaced him on guard duty that first day, Harper on the second, then Mike again, then Jack, Broslin PD rotating through the house while Joe was off, hunting for Keith.

  He barely came home to sleep.

  Amber and Sophie stopped by every single day.

  Wendy did her best to keep her regular routine. She had to sneak doing laundry, or Sophie and Amber wouldn’t have let her. She played with Justin and took care of him. When Justin napped, she worked on editing some more stock images and preparing them for uploading.

  On the fifth day, when Cecilia’s Broslin Boutique called about the window display design, Mike, on guard duty again, drove Wendy and Justin over. Wendy did the display to Cecilia’s delight and praise, and received a nice check. When Cecilia asked if she could pass Wendy’s name around, Wendy told her that’d be great.

  Life had to go on. She had to be strong.

  But her heart ached with an unending pain for the baby she would never get to hold in her arms. And she missed the tenuous connection that had built between her and Joe. He avoided her now—another layer of hurt.

  He probably blamed her. Why wouldn’t he?

  She was the one who’d let things get this out of control with Keith. She could have, should have left him sooner. Stood up to him. Got him out of her life for good before the violence ever progressed this far.

  Joe probably hated her, but he was too polite, too nice a guy to say it. His ex-fiancée had pretended to be having his child and then pretended to lose it. Now Wendy had lost his baby for real. She didn’t know how to apologize for that. What words could she possibly say?

  The week passed, a long dark slog through dreary days with freezing rain. Winter was coming back, Amber complained. She brought Max over every day to play.

  The following week, Wendy got a little more work done. Sophie had finished her website. The car insurance company called. They’d processed her paperwork. By the end of the week, she received a check in the mail and Bing took her to pick out a car. She chose what she had before, a three-year-old Prius. Justin picked the color: toy-car red.

  Her conversations with Joe remained limited to polite inquiries after each other’s well-being in the evening when he got home from work. The stitches had been removed from the cut on his face. The scar remained and made him look a couple of years older. His easy grins had disappeared.

  He usually left so early in the morning that she never saw him leave. She’d come downstairs and a different officer would be sitting in the living room, wishing her good morning.

  Joe did take time to play with Justin, though, during the little time he was home. On one hand, she was grateful for that, because Justin worshipped him. On the other hand, she was worried that when they left—Keith would be caught eventually and it would be safe to return home—Justin’s little heart would be broken when his all-important friendship with Joe ended.

  She checked in with her parents once a week as usual. Didn’t mention the baby. She could see no reason to break their hearts.

  When her checkup appointment came around the following week, she mentioned it to Joe. He offered to take time off from work to drive her. She thanked him for the offer but chose to go with Sophie.

  She was pronounced physically recovered from the miscarriage and reassured that what happened shouldn’t prevent a healthy pregnancy in the future. She barely heard the words.

  * * *

  They were like two ghosts haunting the same house, Joe thought. The only burst of life energy was Justin. The little boy kept them both going. Because of him, they had to pretend to be all right, so they did.

  The early spring chills finally gave way to warmer weather, the flowers and trees in full bloom, tulips and daffodils giving their last hurrah on the front lawns. But even the beauty of spring couldn’t bridge the gorge that had opened up between Joe and Wendy. If anything, the distance seemed to grow each day. He wanted, badly, to reach out. He didn’t know how.

  He wasn’t used to letting people down.

  Yet he was letting Wendy down now, somehow, day after day.

  “What do I do?” he asked Amber over the phone. “I didn’t protect her.”

  “Just be there for her,” his sister advised, without any smart-alecky comments for once. “Just be there and love her.”

  And he loved Wendy, Joe realized, too late. He loved Wendy, and she was never going to forgive him.

  He threw himself into work. Harper’s father had a heart attack and the family spent their days by his side at the hospital. Since Harper was taking leave, the captain officially assigned the Brogevich case to Joe. He worked on that. He also ran down every new lead on Keith. Then he ran down every shadow of a lead. Nothing. The basta
rd had disappeared from the face of the earth.

  So Joe dragged out everything he had and printed what he could, carried the foot-tall stack into the conference room, and laid it all on the table. He took a mug and a full pot of coffee in there with him. He wasn’t going to leave until he found something.

  He read through every page, grouping related items together. The only thing that stuck out was the HR report on the incident when Keith had lost his temper at work.

  Keith Kline had been advised to take an anger management workshop. He had accepted the recommendation and completed anger management training, according to the update scribbled on the bottom of the page.

  Joe picked the paper up, then set it down again. More than likely it only jumped out at him because it reminded him that he’d come to a dead end with Phil’s case.

  Joe picked up the paper again. Could Keith have been attending Phil’s anger management classes in West Chester?

  It didn’t seem probable. Wilmington Hospital was in Keith’s backyard, then Christiana Care hospital a few miles away. Traveling to West Chester would have been cumbersome and inconvenient, a waste of time.

  And yet…. He kept turning that thought around in his head on the way home, interrupted only by a call from Chief Gleason.

  “I wanted to let you know I requested that you’d be awarded a commendation,” the chief said. “You’ve gone above and beyond helping me. I won’t forget that.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “If there’s anything I can ever do for you, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Just a question.” Something Joe had been thinking about. “What happens to Gomez’s aunt now?”

  “She’s been referred to a senior living facility by Social Services. She needs more help than what she’s been getting. Medical supervision.”

  “Do you know, by any chance, where she is?”

  “I can find out for you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He thought he might visit the old woman someday, even if he’d never met her before, for Lil’ Gomez’s sake. “I don’t suppose you have any information about Trigger?”