by Sharon Kay
A telltale spot darkened the front of his grubby jeans, and liquid pooled on the floor.
“Ah, shit,” Brant muttered under his breath.
“Drop. It,” Shane said. “Last warning.” At his thigh, Denver panted and tensed, all senses locked on the target. A growl of anticipation rumbled from his throat.
Fear flashed in the guy’s eyes as he regarded Denver. One second passed. Two.
He dropped the knife. The resulting clatter echoed off the floor and windows, drowned out by the instant crush of cops taking the man down.
Brant shook his head. “As usual. Bring out the dog, and they’re scared shitless.” He glanced at Denver, who watched the swarm of activity intently.
Shane patted Denver’s side. “So, he thought he could just walk on in with a damn knife.”
“Pretty much. ’Course, the machine beeped when he went through.” Brant pointed to the metal detector that everyone entering the facility had to step through. Next to it was a conveyor belt with an X-ray machine to scan bags and purses. “Tried to deny it was there, then said it wasn’t his. Then that one tried to run.” He nodded at the man who’d been on the ground. He was standing now, handcuffed and held by two officers. He didn’t appear scared. He looked arrogant, as if he thought he’d be able to get out of whatever violation he was slapped with.
“All right. Looks like you got it under control.”
“Thanks, Marlow.” Brant set his hands on his hips. “You can return to rounds. We’ll see what’s going on with these guys.”
Shane and Denver headed back the way they had come. Reaching what appeared to be the rear of the building, they went through an employee only door and emerged into an enclosed courtyard. A few picnic tables were close to the brick walls. Some of the dozens of staffers ate out here in the nice weather, but it was way past lunchtime. No one else was around. Perfect.
Denver had wanted to be part of the action back there, and he was still itching to let out energy. Adrenaline rushed through his canine veins, same as with people. Shane unclicked his lead and took out the toy they used for this purpose at work, a red rubber ball.
Denver leaped for it with a short bark, and Shane threw it across the courtyard. The dog bounded after it as if his legs were on springs, grabbing the thing and shaking his head back and forth. He trotted back to Shane and dropped the ball at his feet.
“Good boy!” Shane patted the dog’s shoulder and tossed the ball again, glad they had the space to themselves. This time, Denver executed a four-foot leap to snatch the ball out of the air.
He needed this the same way Shane needed to decompress. And here in the enclosed green grass courtyard, he and his partner could let out the energy they needed to. Or in the vast open areas of the county, where they ran for miles. No sand and no tangoes.
For Shane, there was just the lingering need to push through and keep the bad memories locked down.
Chapter 15
On Redemption Hill, the highest point in the county, Shane took a long pull off his beer and inhaled the crisp fall air. Slightly smoky and tinged with the scent of fallen leaves, it cleared his mind.
The faint clinking of Denver’s collar echoed back to him. They were alone up here, and Denver was free to explore. He loved new places, and though this hill wasn’t new, it wasn’t on their frequent visit list.
Just outside of Sundown, the hill rose up over a two-lane highway. Rumor was that a tiny civil-war-era cemetery was located up here, but no gravestones had ever been found. It was unincorporated county land with trees and tall grasses, far from anything significant.
Just what Shane needed this night.
He sat on a low brick wall that had been there as long as he could remember, probably since the war. Below him, he could see all of Sundown from one end of Main Street to the other. The lights were on at the one gas station in town. It was early enough that most folks were still up, and lights shone from the houses. Farther west lay his sister’s home, and he wondered if Rosie was zonked out next to her sweet baby.
She’d waited a long time for her shot at happiness. So had others in this town.
This was Shane’s home, populated by the hardworking folks who he’d gone to school with and worked alongside. Some called him a hero, and others understood why he didn’t like that word. Still, they were his people.
That was why the shit from today and from the weekend weighed him down.
He took another long drink, watching an eighteen-wheeler cruise by. Orange lights dotted the cab’s top edge like a Halloween decoration.
That stupid photo of him and the boy. Turned out the reporter had shown it to the parents, who’d been so grateful, they gave her permission to post it. Hell, they’d even posted it on their own social media. That reporter had known exactly what she was doing, getting a huge scoop. “First photo of rescued boy.” She’d known she had no need to ask Shane what he thought. And since the parents allowed it, the county couldn’t take it down.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Denver to his right, happily digging a hole in the ground, probably about to give some possum the scare of his life.
Shane’s phone rang from the spot where he’d set it on the brick wall. Becca’s number glowed on the screen. He grinned and picked up. “Hey, Becca.”
“Hey yourself. How was your day?” Her warm sweetness carried through the line, and he’d bet she was smiling.
“Shitty.”
“Oh.” Surprise in her voice. “Um, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not your fault. And it’s better already, talking to you.”
A soft giggle filtered through the cell. “Well, okay. Glad I can help. Wanna talk about it?”
He grunted a non-answer. The real answer would be Hell yes how much time do you have…or just No.
A series of honking rolled up from the road as one car tailgated another and then decided to zoom around it.
“Shane? Where are you?”
“Outside.” That sounded crazy. “A spot outside Sundown.”
“Oh. Nighttime walk?”
“Nope.”
“Are you… with someone?” Worry crept into her voice, as if she didn’t know whether she wanted the answer to be yes or no.
“Just me and Denver.”
“Okay. Um, Shane?” She drew out his name, hesitation and concern mixing together. “Is everything okay?”
He gave a half laugh. That was the million dollar question. The answer changed with each day. “Sure.” It wasn’t really a lie. It would be true at some point.
“Where exactly are you?”
“Redemption Hill.”
She paused. “By that hidden cemetery?”
He chuckled. “Not sure if it’s hidden since it’s never been proven to exist.”
“I’ve been there. And there is a cemetery. I swear I found a chunk of a gravestone once. I was so freaked out.”
“Yeah? You turn it in to see if it was real?”
“No. I kinda wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Oh really?” The hill was a known make out spot. He could imagine how cute she would’ve been in high school… and suddenly, he didn’t want to think about her in a car with some grabby, clumsy teenage boy.
“I know where you are. Stay put. I’m coming over.”
Shit. He’d be crappy company. But the selfish part of him didn’t care. He’d already warned her.
Seeing her just might make it better.
He finished his beer and set it down with a hollow clink on the brick. He probably should have tried harder to dissuade Becca. She might hear more than she bargained for and decide he was a mess. He didn’t feel like sugarcoating anything tonight.
Fuck it. The truth was, he was a mess. Maybe it was better that she see it now. He should stay away from her. He put on a good show for the world, making it seem like his p
ast was behind him. No one really saw through it, except his sister and their parents.
But a woman he might want to spend time with? Women from over the years never fully understood. On the one hand, that was a good thing. He wouldn’t wish his losses on anyone. He was glad there were some people in life who hadn’t gone through times where fate kick-boxed their soul.
On the other hand, the whole situation was fucking isolating. Yeah, he’d had counselors in the past. Part of the treatment at Walter Reed involved a psychiatric eval. And the guys there, they got it too, though they all dealt with it in different ways. But Sundown was so far from that.
He opened another beer.
A car turned on the dirt road below. Either she was a speedy driver or he was about to have company he didn’t want. Or he’d been more lost in his head than he thought. Quietly, the vehicle came up the hill, stopping next to his Ford.
Becca got out, and instantly, he was glad he hadn’t tried to talk her out of coming. Her hair was up in a messy bun. She spotted him and walked briskly over.
He stared at her because, in the dark, he could look all he wanted. She wore a zip-up fleece, jeans, and sneakers, warm and practical. Should be nothing special, but everything fit her enough to remind him of her curves.
She slowed as she approached and peered over his shoulder. Denver had paused his digging to study her. “Hey,” she said and glanced at his dog. “Hi, Denver.”
Denver shook his head back and forth, rattling his collar, and resumed digging.
“Hi. Sit.” Shane patted the ancient brick wall.
She sat, eyes locked on him as if she could read his thoughts. “So, what brings you up here?”
“Lotta things.”
“It’s peaceful.”
He nodded and offered her a beer.
“No thanks.” She swung her legs. “Tell me about today.”
Well, she was direct, and he sure as hell appreciated that. He took a long drink. Might as well plunge right in. “Couple punk ass kids tried to sneak a knife into the courthouse.”
“Oh my god! But there’s all that security.”
“Yup.”
“How did they think they could get away with it?”
Shane summed up the cluster fuck at the courthouse entrance. Becca stared with widening eyes and clapped a hand over her mouth when he finished. “What if he’d had a gun instead? You could have…”
“Thank god he didn’t. It would’ve been a fucking mess.”
“Does that happen often? People trying to bring in weapons?”
“No. Just once in a while.”
“Like when you’re called in to search for missing people?”
“Yeah.” He took a sip. “Most days aren’t that exciting.”
“Well, if this is excitement, I’m glad you don’t have it very often,” she murmured. “It sounds like you guys got things under control quickly.”
“Yeah, the whole thing was textbook,” he muttered. “No damage to property or civilians.”
She tilted her head. “You did a good thing today…yet you don’t seem very enthused about that.” Her words were soft and coaxing, as if she knew there was more.
He stayed silent, because she was right.
“Is there something else?”
He swung his gaze to her. The waning moon gave off a little light as it climbed higher in the night sky, helping him to see the outline of her features. He didn’t doubt her sincerity or concern. And hell, maybe this was that moment that he just took a risk and laid it all on the line. Maybe she’d say Nice knowing you, goodbye.
Maybe not.
“Yeah.” He turned to face her. “There’s a lot.”
“Tell me,” she whispered.
Chapter 16
The oddest mix of emotion tore through Shane, as though he wanted to kiss Becca’s sweet lips or talk for hours about every thought that had popped into his head during the day. Behind them, high in the poplars, an owl hooted.
Shane scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I told you a little about my team,” he began. The words slipped from his mouth effortlessly, as if she was the perfect person in whom to confide his deepest frustration.
She nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
“We were in two vehicles, driving into the city of Kirkuk, in Iraq. I was in the second car. The first one hit an IED. Everyone in that car died.” Images flashed in his mind the way they always did when he told the story.
A roar that split the desert morning, then only ringing in his ears as he struggled to breathe from somewhere on the sand. The dog he’d had then licking his face and standing over him. His team helped by another team nearby. Wreckage and blood…
“Six men died needlessly. Some of them had wives, kids.” Memories of their faces swamped him. “I couldn’t go to their funerals because of my injuries.”
“What were your injuries?”
“Four broken ribs, punctured lung, concussion, broken tibia.” He patted his shin. “And a broken radius. That’s this one right here.” He tapped his forearm. He could never remember which was which before the explosion. Now, he would never forget.
She winced. “Oh, Shane.”
“I spent nearly a month in the hospital. Had to do some rehab and talk to shrinks and stuff. But I healed.” He took another drink. “I could have died. I could have been in the front car. Just random that I wasn’t. Can’t help but wonder why.”
She scooted closer and turned to sit cross-legged, facing him on the brick, waiting.
“We all signed up because we wanted to fight for freedom. Over there, the people don’t have much.” He blew out a breath. “And today? Guys who act like they’re above the law and break it anyway… some days it just pisses me off more. I mean, in some countries, guys who tried to pull that shit in the courthouse today would be tossed in jail. No questions, no lawyer. No opportunity to speak up in their own defense. The guys from today got arrested, but they’ll have the chance to post bail.”
On the highway below, two pickup trucks cruised by, extra headlights decorating their tops and country music blaring from open windows.
“We work to uphold the freedom that some people take for granted. Half my team is gone. And not everyone appreciates the sacrifices that get made. It’s just something that happens to someone else on the other side of the world.”
“You’re right,” she said softly.
“And I get that people are like that. I do. But some days…” He shook his head. “It’s just fucked up.”
“I understand how some days are better than others,” she murmured.
“And that kid from the weekend,” he went on. “I’m thankful as fuck that we found him. That reporter and that photo just ticked me off. I know she was doing her job, but shit.” He stared out at the headlights zooming below as tonight’s shitty attitude started to make more sense to him.
“When we got to the scene, and I met the parents, they begged me to find their boy. They looked at me like their world was ending. I’ve seen the faces of parents who lost a child.” Injustice twisted a knot in his gut. “Gonna try and make sure that look happens as rarely as possible.”
Denver padded over to his side and lay down in the grass, his furry body pressing close. Shane gave the dog’s ears a scratch. “Anyway.” He slid a glance to Becca. “Days like this, when life is the wrong way around but that’s just the way it is… sometimes I come here. Try to get some perspective.”
She inched closer, tracing her fingers down the sleeve of his shirt. “I obviously don’t know what it’s like to be in a war zone. I’ve never been near an explosion. But I do know what it feels like to lose someone suddenly.” She blinked. “And I know what it feels like to lose someone slowly and horribly. Both ways suck.” Her voice dropped to a whisper on the last words.
Shane gazed at her. One cheek and one sid
e of her neck were highlighted by the autumn moon. Her eyes were downcast as her fingers paused at his wrist. Sadness radiated from her, too much sadness. “I’m sorry about what you’ve been through.” Hell, he knew he’d told her that before. But being out here with her, in the dark with the wind and the fallen leaves, everything seemed more real and open.
“Thanks.” She pressed one finger under her eye as if to stop a tear. “You come here on days like this. I… I used to talk to my mom. She was great at giving perspective.”
“You never said how she passed.”
“Pancreatic cancer. Stage three. It was super aggressive.” She twisted her shoelace around one finger. “It was only a couple months from the time of diagnosis to when she was gone.” She swallowed. “Though I guess I should be glad for a couple months. Some cancers move even faster.”
“Fucking cancer. Modern medicine can do some pretty cool shit, but no one’s figured out a goddamn cure.”
“At least we had time, little as it was. There was nothing left unsaid. I know not everyone has that.” A sudden flutter of wings had her glancing up at a bat that zoomed from the tree cover in search of dinner. “She died between my two pregnancies. I told her about the first one, even though Kirk hadn’t wanted us to tell anyone right away.”
“But she’s your mom.” Shane scowled at the mention of Hatcher and the reminder of the intimacy he’d once shared with Becca. “She got a pass, right?”
“Well, I decided she did. Kirk just wanted to wait until we figured out what to do.”
He frowned. “What’s there to do?”
She sighed. “He approached it in terms of campaign strategy. Like, how should we spin it? Would he poll better if we got married quickly and quietly—immediately? Or would it be better to not rush the wedding, to have the baby out of wedlock and then do the big traditional ceremony we had been thinking of, and invite all the bigwigs he knew?”
Shane couldn’t help clenching his fist, and forced his fingers to relax. What kind of dude thought of a baby as a campaign tactic?