by Becky Flade
“You made him blush.” He caught up and returned the hip bump with one of his own.
“He was sweet.” She pushed his shoulder. “And he’s going to make sure I get the officer’s discount next time I’m here.”
“Yeah, more like the sweet ass discount.” He gave her a push.
“What? Jealous?” She batted her eyelashes and he laughed. It had gotten dark when they were inside, and her jeep and his bike were all that was left in the small lot.
He pulled her close, tilted her chin with his finger until their eyes met. “Not even a little. I know my woman too well.”
How dare he? Arrogant ass. She opened her mouth to tell him what an intelligent, independent woman thought about that, but he fitted his mouth to hers before she’d made a sound. Worry about it later. The kiss, meant to brand, shook her, as did the surge of feminine delight. It pleased her to see he wasn’t steady either when they broke apart.
“Mine.” She hadn’t intended to say it. Hadn’t even thought it. But it was true.
“Yeah? Yeah. I like that.” He nipped her lip. “Food?”
“Good God, yes.” She looked down at herself, then at him, and chuckled. “Shower first, then food.”
“Shower together?” He sidled his body along hers.
She laughed and pushed him away. “We’ll never get fed. My house in one hour—I’ve got a tray full of shells waiting to be reheated.”
She sauntered away enjoying the wolf-whistle that followed and the sexy grumble of the motorcycle’s engine. She reached into her pocket for her keys as the bike roared onto the highway. Damn. I left my keys on the counter. She pivoted toward the building, hoping to catch Brian before he locked up for the night.
The crunch of feet on the gravel behind her had her spinning around. A meaty fist rammed into her jaw and blood poured into her mouth as she fell back against the jeep. She steadied, ready to fight, to defend, but a second smaller man approached her, fast, from the other side and struck her, hard and high on the cheek. Her vision blurred but she jabbed, and the connection sent vibrations up her arm. Something broke, I felt it. Hope it was the little bastard’s nose.
Pain, unexpected and white-hot, bloomed in her head. She fell to her knees. The larger of the two must have hit her with something more than his fist. Another blow to the same spot crumbled her to the ground. She covered her head with her arms as a booted foot came at her. The kick to her side took her breath away and forced bile up her throat. The next sunk her into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When he was a kid, he’d found silence both terrifying and comforting. It terrified when his father was home and comforted when the old man’s oppressive presence was absent. After the last beating, he learned to cherish the silence. A reward he’d earned for surviving his childhood. For the first time in fifteen years, silence filled him with fear. Terror built in him, the fear and the anger battled for his soul.
“I had been there with her. At the paintball place. We’d played a few rounds. We were going to shower and meet back up at her place for dinner. I called to ask if she needed me to pick up anything. The kid from Triage, I think his name was Brian, he answered her phone. He was crying about what they’d done to her. I left there. I left her alone.”
He bowed his head and stared at the speckled linoleum. Are these rooms this ugly by design? Is it to keep desperate family members from building false hope? Mr. Parker paced. His phone to his ear, as he spoke to his other children, the quiet baritone, normally a comfort, seemed out of place in this room where death waited. He’d sat beside Kylee’s mother, hoping to lend comfort. He had none to give. Instead, he’d offered confession.
“The first year after she left the academy I panicked every time the phone rang.” Mrs. Parker told him. “It got better after a while. Then Guff died. I’d just stopped being afraid to answer the phone when it rang tonight.”
Her hand shook in his. Strongest woman I’ve ever met, and she’s shaking. He wrapped his other hand around hers.
“She wasn’t even working. Somehow the fact she wasn’t made it worse.”
He waited until Mr. Parker sat down before stepping into the hall and palming his cell. This can’t be my fault. It can’t. His mother’s warning that they’d both be hurt in the end rang in his ears as he dialed.
“I heard about your woman getting hurt. Damn shame. How is she?”
“You have anything to do with this Chic?”
“Me? Of course not, you know I got more respect for women than that.”
Like letting Angela bleed out in the tub?
“Yeah, Chic, I know exactly how much respect you have for women. And you’ve got even less respect for cops. I think you’d see the badge before you saw the woman.” His free hand fisted. “I find out you had anything to do with hurting her…”
“You’ll do what? I understand your woman’s hurt, and you’re scared. I can’t imagine what I’d do in your position, so I’m going to let this stupid slide. But it is the last time, brother.”
The cell went silent in his hand. He knew his life had just been threatened and he didn’t care. He hurled the cell against the opposite wall and watched it shatter without satisfaction.
“You think he’s responsible?”
He hadn’t seen Shore standing by the elevators. The cop had heard his phone call.
“Mind your own business.”
Shore didn’t look like he was going to back off. Good. He needed to hit someone.
“Keeping my partner safe is my business. If it was your fault, how do you think Parker and her family will handle that truth?”
“Is there a problem boys?” Keith Parker stepped between them.
Shore retreated first. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you need anything?”
“No thank you. I don’t think either of us could keep anything down right now.”
Shore nodded and walked away.
“You worried this had something to do with you? Or are you feeling helpless?”
“What if it did?” He looked the man he always wanted to be in the eye. I love his little girl, but he loved her first. He’ll never forgive me. “What if it does come back to me?”
“We’ll deal with that if and when. Come on inside, where we can keep an eye on you. I only have enough worry in me for one child at a time.”
They sat in silence, each trapped in their own fear as they waited. Michael pushed the door open and smiled. Keith Parker cried. His wife nodded, as though she’d expected nothing less from her daughter. My mother never had that much faith in anyone or anything.
“I’m not going to lie. She’s banged up. The concussion and broken ribs were the worst of it. They repaired the punctured lung. And there’s no evidence of a brain bleed. They’ll keep her in recovery for about an hour and then they’ll move her to a patient room. If you want, I can bring you in one at a time to see her now, but only for a minute.”
Michael led them through ominous looking doors and into a room set up not unlike the emergency room downstairs, but without the curtains or the illusion of privacy. Her parents went first. When it was his turn, he glanced back as the doors swung shut, and he saw the Parkers’ embrace. I want what they have. And he approached the person he wanted it with.
She looked fragile, a word he’d never attributed to her, even as children. She’d hate this. Her golden tan ruined by a palette of swelling and bruises. Dark thread crisscrossed her cheekbone stark against her skin. On the opposite side, her jaw held the imprint of a man’s fist.
I need you. I miss you. We say everything but I love you. Wake up so I can tell you I love you. I have so much to tell you. A sigh hiccupped through the fog of anesthesia, and the machines hiccupped in turn.
Michael tapped his shoulder. He shrugged him off. He brushed his lips over her forehead before leaving the recovery area.
He strode past the Parkers, ignoring their calls to him. With restrained anger he punched the down button on the elevator. The do
ors opened with a cheerful ding he found obscene. A young nurse looked up at him, the smile she’d prepared dying halfway. He didn’t know what he looked like, but she hurried off, and he doubted it was her floor. The empty elevator suited him. As he left the hospital, he let the emotions he’d bottled surface.
He embraced the violent rage and the urgent need to use his fists. An image of his father coming at him with a bat flickered through his mind and for the first time in his life he understood. And he accepted.
With his eyes focused on his motorcycle, he didn’t notice the man standing to the side of the emergency room doors. Shore stepped out and into his path.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Get out of my way.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet.” JD’s gaze met Shore’s.
“I can’t let you go tearing off into the night, intent on doing something stupid.”
“I wasn’t asking permission. Get out of my way before I move you.”
He shouldered his way past the cop. Shore grabbed him. Rage clouded vision. It’ll be you then. He hit him with a right jab, then a second, and had his arm cocked to land a third when Shore surprised him with a strong left. He plowed his fist into Shore’s gut. The ER bay doors swished open, and Mary Parker stepped out. Jayson dropped his fists.
“Seriously? This is the best the two of you can come up with? Fighting like Neanderthals in the parking lot, how many feet away from where my baby lays beaten all to hell?” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Either of you think Kylee would approve of this behavior?”
“No, ma’am.” Shore answered.
Kylee covered in bruises and bandages, tubes breathing for her, fighting alone upstairs as she had in the parking lot. He looked away and swallowed down the knot of tears and rage before turning back. Shore was gone. Mrs. Parker stood before him. More mother to him than his own mother had ever been.
“Keith spoke with Kylee’s captain. They believe it was random. A carjacking interrupted by the boy from the paintball place. Keith said you’re worried it wasn’t?”
He nodded.
“I think it best if you stay here with her. As protection detail. Just in case.”
He’d expected accusation, blame. Her hatred. His surprise showed.
“You had that same look on your face when I said you could have a second piece of pie.”
“The hospital isn’t going to let me stay.”
“We’ll have that nice Officer Shore set it up. And then we’ll keep what was going on out here between the three of us. Understand?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“No. Absolutely not. She’s not going through it one more time. She needs to rest.”
“I don’t hear her telling me that.” Matt stared his expression spiteful.
She had been amused, initially, despite the pain and exhaustion, by their posturing. Each man doing what he thought best, and both men spoke from concern, but with different objectives. They were both right. But their hostility frayed her nerves.
She’d woken, sick to her stomach and alive with pain. Jayson sat at her bedside. She could see his fear. But he’d kept a smile on his face and the conversation cheerful until Matt had arrived. Things had grown hostile since then.
“Why don’t the two of you just pull them out, I’ll ask Marie here for a ruler.”
She motioned to the nurse who had entered the room. Both men blushed. Marie giggled and tapped her watch. She wants to give me a shot. The pain had blown past bearable some time ago, but she didn’t want the shot. The narcotics didn’t agree with her.
“Can it wait just a few more minutes please?”
“Baby, you need your medicine.”
“Yeah, Parker, I’m sorry. We can do this later.”
“Now the two of you want to cooperate? Figures. Matt, we’ll go through it again, and then I’ll get my lovely shot.” She threaded her fingers with Jayson’s. “Then you can watch me drool all over myself and throw up the Jell-O you forced down my throat an hour ago. Is everyone happy?”
Her voice didn’t sound like her own. And the more she spoke, the more her chest hurt. She’d done too much. He was right. But she needed to go through it, while it was fresh. She’s a trained observer, even with the speed of the attack and her own injuries; she should be able to give them something. Something an ordinary victim couldn’t.
I am not a fucking victim. I lost a fight. It’s different.
Brian had saved her life. He ran her keys out to her and interrupted the attack. He’d called Matt after calling nine-one-one because she’d written her partner’s name and number on the back of the card she’d left. And then the kid sat with her until help arrived. They told her. And they told her he’d agreed to look at mug shots. She would do what she could too.
She looked up at Jayson and caught a glimpse of the Celtic cross tattoo he wore on his bicep. He’d told her one night his mother had a Celtic cross she’d hung over the kitchen door of every house they’d lived in as a kid. It had been a present from his father during better times. When his mother and sister disappeared, she took the cross with her. He’d gotten the tattoo so he could always remember how easily things could turn bad.
She jolted.
“The big one had a tattoo. It was a crown, like the kind royalty wear. The stones were dripping blood, I think. It was on his right forearm.” In her excitement, she struggled to breathe.
“Calm down, baby.”
He handed her a pen and pad. She nodded. Relax, breathe. God it hurts! Breathe, in and out, or they’ll sedate you again. She sketched out several versions before she was satisfied. Matt tucked the page into his back pocket and Marie, with seemingly psychic timing, entered the room not bothering to palm the syringe this time.
“A few more minutes, Marie, please? I want to go through it one more time. I might remember something else. ”
“It’s time for medicine and rest.” Her mother breezed into the room a few paces behind the nurse.
She swallowed a groan. Jayson smiled outright, his love and admiration for her mother evident. Thinks Mom’s on his side. She is on his side. She shot him a dirty look. He chuckled.
“This is good. I’ll add it to the description the kid gave us and get the information distributed. Mrs. Parker, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Donovan.”
Exit stage left. Do it fast before they give your partner a shot. She stuck her tongue out at Matt’s retreating back.
Jayson smiled and winked lewdly when she bared a cheek for the needle. She gritted her teeth against the pain and embarrassment. By the time they’d helped her get comfortable again, her head was light and the room spun.
“I liked it better when the shots were going in the IV,” she’d attempted to say, but it sounded more like “Lied it bedder when da shots goin da high vee.”
Everyone smiled. She wanted to stomp her feet. She slid into a fog of fake slumber. Stop talking about me.
Doing better than expected, the nurse said. She tried too hard to please her partner. He was too pushy, Jayson complained. Then oblivion swept her away.
She woke later, unaware of how long she’d slept, riddled with nausea. Family littered the room, talking in quiet tones in groups of twos. Jayson wasn’t in the room. Her father sat beside her, reading a dog-eared Louis L’Amour paperback. She wanted to smile, but feared she’d vomit on her dad.
“Daddy,” she whispered.
He looked up and slid a basin under her and held her head while she vomited. The heaving hurt terribly, and tears coursed down both cheeks when she lifted her head. She had the room’s undivided attention.
“You know what’s worse than throwing up funky Jell-O with broken ribs and sutures from cardiovascular surgery?” She waited. “Everyone staring at me while I’m doing it.”
“I’m going to go ask Marie if there’s anything they can give you for the nausea.”
Her mother needed to be active. She understood. Pat and Kira approached
her with soft smiles. Her dad slipped off to the bathroom to wash out the basin.
“Hey.” The round of vomiting strained her already sore throat. I sound like the old women who huddle outside church smoking cigarettes on Sunday mornings.
“Hey, yourself.” Pat eased onto the bed at her feet.
He took one foot between his long, weathered fingers and rubbed it. She sighed. It felt good. Tension she didn’t realize she’d been holding melted from her shoulders.
“So, LeeLee, what’s the sense in being a kick-ass cop if you’re gonna get your butt kicked off duty?”
“Still kick your ass, loser.”
She knew he wasn’t there, but looked for him anyway.
“Mom convinced him to go home.”
She tried to adopt an expression she thought would convey confusion over his statement, but Pat didn’t buy it. He continued on like she knew who their mother sent home. Like they both knew who was missing.
“Go buy a new phone, guess he broke or lost his last one, and check in on his mom, stuff like that. Promised him you wouldn’t be alone, but he’s already called to check like twice since I got here. He’s got it bad.” He winked at her and picked up her other foot. “So do you.”
She responded with a quick flick of her middle finger that earned her a “Kylee Ann Parker” as their mother reentered the room. Pat howled. She always got caught.
In between bouts of nausea, injections, nurse visits, doctor visits and drug-induced napping, her siblings and their spouses drifted in and out in groups of two and three while her parents coddled in their individual ways. The day dragged on, and her exhaustion multiplied her discomfort.
She heard steps in the hall. Knew they were his. Her heart leapt, and her mood improved. Screw Pat and his opinions. I’m happy. And there he was. He stood in the doorway, in sneaks, jeans, and a tee, with a backpack slung over one shoulder by a single strap. She thought of high school, the way she’d blush when he’d walk into a classroom, and remembered what he’d said to her the first time they’d kissed about déjà vu. It’s like being seventeen all over again.