Bittersweet: Can she rebuild her life?

by Lyz Kelley

  He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t care how they spent the day. He just wanted more time with her. He liked her company. Wickedly smart, she was totally into his dry sense of humor, and could pretty much kick his ass if she had a mind to.

  With most women he ended up acting like the moose who tore up Lizzy Cranston’s backyard and destroyed her entire garden. With Leza, he could be himself. She wasn’t fragile or delicate or needy. She appreciated him. He treasured her.

  “I’ll make breakfast at my place.” She set her cup down, but he moved to block her way.

  “Don’t go.”

  She dropped her head to his chest. “Heath.”

  He slid his hands around her back. “You probably think this relationship is insane. I have my job. You have plans. Plus I attend school, and then there’s El. But that’s the beauty of it. We both still like each other despite the fact we are both in the fast lane going a hundred miles an hour.”

  “You forgot the fact you wear a bulletproof vest to work every day. Both you and I know protective gear will not keep you from getting killed.”

  His teeth clamped together. He so wanted to call her on her bullshit. The hypocrite. She’d spent the past two and a half years putting her life on the line—without a vest—yet her expression suggested highlighting the fact wouldn’t help.

  “When our number’s up, it’s up. I could be getting the mail and slip and hit my head on a rock.” He snapped his fingers. “Poof. Gone. Just like that.”

  “Well, maybe that’s just the thing. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

  “So you’re willing to protect your heart and lose out on a solid relationship?”

  “Who said you’re solid?” Leza gazed at him for a long moment, searching his eyes.

  “You did last night.”

  Attention wandered to his mouth and skimmed over his lips. A blatant invitation if he ever saw one.

  “If you keep staring at me like I'm a banana chocolate chip muffin, I might be tempted to use my handcuffs.” His playful, gruff tone made her lick her lips.

  “Promise?”

  “God, woman, you're killing me.” Heath smothered her lips with urgent need. He teased and flirted the only way he knew. Leza tugged on the waist of his jeans, then pushed him away when she heard footsteps scamper down the stairs.

  Leza scrambled backward and skidded to a stop on the other side of the kitchen island.

  “Done already?” Heath’s tone was a bit shaky.

  “I better let you move on with your day,” Leza slung her purse over her shoulder, then gave El a little pinch on the cheek. “Have fun in school today, and don’t let those stupid boys bother you,” she winked and turned to Heath. “I’ll let you know what the real estate agent says—you know, about renting the two-bedroom.”

  “Oh, right.” He’d forgotten about talking to Leza about renting the space.

  She held up a hand to wave before she grabbed the door handle and swung the heavy wood door shut behind her. She held his attention until her car drove away.

  “Did I scare Leza away?” El asked.

  Oh, Squirt. “You didn’t scare her away. She has an appointment.”

  “But she wanted to stay. I could tell.”

  And he had wanted her to stay. He lifted the spatula and adjusted the stove’s temperature.

  “Here we go again,” she snipped with a huff and a puff and a pout.

  Heath closed his eyes for a moment and counted in increments of three. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He grabbed onto the last thread of patience.

  “You never talk to me about anything.” El caressed Gunther’s ear, then hugged him. “Mom talked to me all the time.”

  “I talk to you. We talked about this before, El. There are certain adult topics not up for discussion.”

  “Like Leza and Mom?” she persisted.

  How could he argue with the truth? He leaned his hip against the counter. “Fine. You want to talk about Leza, we’ll talk about her. I like her. Like her a lot. She’s good for me. I think she’s good for you too. But she has a lot going on. She wants to open a wellness center, and she isn’t sure about me, although I think she adores you.”

  “Why? You’re nice…sometimes.” She giggled, then scooped a banana chunk out of her fruit bowl and slid the slice to Gunther. The dog chewed the round once before spitting the gooey wad on the carpet.

  “Hey. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Squirt.” He tore off a paper towel. “Pick up the banana puke, wouldja?” El’s giggle bubbled through the kitchen. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “There’s this one boy at school I used to like, but he says girls aren’t supposed to like spiders and snakes and stuff. He’s dumb.”

  “Hey. Just because he doesn’t agree with you about what girls should like doesn’t mean he’s dumb.”

  “True.” She walked with Gunther over to the trashcan. “I’d better get ready for school.”

  “We’ll leave in five, good?”

  She nodded, and raced with Gunther toward the stairs.

  The weight of parenthood pressed in. Please help me get this right.

  He hadn’t realized how abnormal his life had been until he got to boot camp. He thought because he and Zoe had a mom and dad, his life was better than fifty percent of the other kids. However, with his dad's early onset of dementia unbalanced his family. His dad couldn't hold a job. His mom has to work two or three. His sister became angry, and he shut down and turned inward. Socially awkward to start with, he didn't have many friends, but the military turned all that around.

  However, it didn't mean he’d learned anything about creating a healthy family life for El.

  Most days he didn’t have a clue, but not being prepared for parenthood didn’t give him an excuse to avoid showing up.

  Thank goodness El resembled a rubber band. Flexible. Willing to forgive him most anything.

  He just hoped Leza could do the same.

  Chapter 18

  Heath didn’t plan on stopping at Mad Jack’s to see Leza.

  He didn’t.

  But a BMW parked under a tree on a dark sidestreet kicked his protective instincts into high gear.

  He recognized the car, but ran the plates just to be sure.

  Yep. The car belonged to Douglas Frankl III, a.k.a. Mr. Ginormous, the guy whose nose Leza supposedly busted.

  He’d Googled the guy after his wingman filed the lawsuit against the sheriff’s department.

  If he hung a picture of Ginormous on the wall, the caption would read prick extraordinaire. The guy appeared to think the whole world was wrong and he was always right. He had a reputation for being a bully.

  And his wingman, Dean Northrup, attorney-at-law, wasn’t much better.

  A legend in the courts, he’d written articles and blogs suggesting winning was more important than serving clients. Any opposition he came across he would devalue, degrade, and dehumanize without regard for the consequences. A scathing article about a man taking his life after being cross-examined by Northrup had been picked up by several news outlets.

  Heath swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and unhooked a flashlight from his utility belt.

  He reached for his shoulder radio and engaged his mic. “Dispatch. Watson. 10-20. I’m at Mad Jack’s bar.”

  “10-4,” dispatch replied.

  Should I call in backup? Mmmm...not yet. Then his gut clenched and the hairs on his arms stood up.

  “Code 3. Possible disturbance.”

  He listened to the night sounds.

  “10-4,” dispatch relayed. “Sheriff wants to know if you want backup.”

  He shined a flashlight in the BMW. “10-23 stand by.”

  The back floorboard of the BMW, which was piled with empty beer bottles and a half-empty quart of bourbon, upped his concern.

  Yeah. Backup, while not necessarily protocol, became prudent.

  “Code-2, no light or siren assist.”

  “10-4,” dispatch co
nfirmed. “Baker, en route.”

  Baker? The senior deputy? The only remaining deputy in the department who hadn’t been fired or jailed after the corruption scandal. Just what he didn’t need. A black and white procedure pariah crunching on his bones. “10-4. 10-3. Watson out.”

  “Per the sheriff, proceed with caution. 10-3. Dispatch out.”

  Irritation compressed his chest. When had he not proceeded with caution? He activated his body camera, just as shouting disturbed the quiet night.

  Leza.

  A shrill scream made him reach for his mic. “Dispatch. 10-99. Backup needed, reconfirmed. Code-2. No siren.”

  His heart slammed against his body armor, clamoring for him to take action.

  He unsnapped the leather holding his sidearm, and sprinted across the street, sticking to the shadows.

  Breathe. Stay calm.

  Voices came from the alley ahead.

  One male, possibly a second.

  Adrenaline surged through him.

  He raced along the brick wall, scanning the perimeter.

  At the corner of the building he slowed, unsheathed his gun, and peeked around the corner.

  Two males, confirmed.

  Mr. Ginormous he recognized, but who was the second guy holding Leza? And where was his former wingman from the bar?

  He should have arrested the nutjobs during his first encounter. He had pushed personal barriers and then got in Leza's face to taunt her. The prick. He could have made some charge stick.

  Wait for backup, his mind warned, but his feet overruled.

  Heath moved closer, keeping the targets in sight.

  Shielded by the dumpster, the perps didn’t see him, but neither did Leza.

  He held his breath to hear the conversation.

  “You busted my nose and ruined my wedding. You bitch.”

  A brief scuffle sounded like Leza was fighting to free her arms but failed. “Listen. You were drunk, and—”

  “Bullshit.” Mr. Ginormous stared at his buddy. Heath recognized a resemblance. A brother, maybe? “I wasn’t drunk. We were playing pool, and you attacked us.”

  “You said you only had two beers,” his buddy accused.

  “More like a half-dozen and a couple of shooters,” Leza corrected.

  “Don’t listen to her. She’s a liar.”

  “I don’t lie, but let’s talk this through.” Leza maintained her unfazed tone. She'd been trained well. “I was trying to do my job and serve my customers, that’s all.” She tried rotating, but the new guy held tight. “I lost a lot of tips that night.”

  “Yeah. Well. You cost me a lot more in medical bills than your pissant tips.” Mr. Ginormous grabbed her jaw and squeezed, then threw her head sideways to pace back and forth. He stopped to look her in the eye. “How about you and I go for a little ride? You can reimburse me for my trouble.”

  Heath planted his feet. Wait for backup. She’s okay for now. Just a few more minutes.

  “You’re a nice guy,” Leza had a little sweet in her voice, most likely to gain the guy’s attention.

  That’s the way, Leza. Keep him talking.

  “You have a new wife. You look like you have money. Why would you want to bother with me? I’m nothing.” She shrugged. “I’m not worth your trouble.”

  “Shut up.” The guy wound up and swung.

  Twack. Leza’s head rocked sideways.

  Every muscle in Heath’s body locked and loaded. Man, he wanted to shred this guy into mulch.

  A speck of blood trickled down the side of Leza’s lip.

  She held her own, but she needed to know backup was coming.

  “Dispatch. Watson. Code 3. Baker. Lights and sirens. 240 assault in progress,” he whispered into the handset.

  In the distance, the blare of sirens sounded.

  “Take her to the car,” Mr. Ginormous shouted.

  The tall blond beside Ginormous hesitated. “Bro, let’s get out of here. This bitch isn’t worth going to jail.”

  Bro, as in brother. Identity of the second man confirmed.

  Still no weapons visible. Good. Good. Let's keep it that way, boys.

  “I said, take her to the car,” Mr. Ginormous shouted.

  The brother took a step toward the street, forcing Leza to move.

  Heath shifted. Nope. Not gonna happen. You’re not getting anywhere close to your car, boys.

  Heath took a deep breath, calculated the odds, and placed his gun in his holster. He peeked out from behind the dumpster and waited for the brothers to move apart.

  Wait. Wait. Go, now.

  “Deputy Watson. Elkridge County Sheriff’s Office.” He pointed with his left hand, his right hand closer to his gun. “Release the woman. Hands up and step away.”

  The brother maneuvered Leza in front of him and slung an arm around her neck. She was okay, but Mr. Ginormous, he was the unknown, the unpredictable. Someone could get hurt.

  “I repeat. Release the woman and step away. Hands where I can see them.”

  The fear blaring from her body language made him slow down.

  “Hey. Frankl. Big guy. Look at me.” Calling the perp’s name was the tactic he needed to knock the Mr. Ginormous off center. Heath walked forward with his hands up. “I’m here to help. You don’t want to do this, man.” He swept the area, his senses on high alert. “Let’s talk.”

  Mr. Ginormous hid behind his brother. The coward.

  “Back off,” Mr. Ginormous shouted.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Heath ordered, and shifted position for a clearer view.

  He drew his weapon. “Let’s end this, okay? Let the woman go, and put your hands above your head.”

  Leza shook her head ever so slightly, but he caught the movement. Fear and anger collided.

  “Hands where I can see them,” Heath shouted a nanosecond before a shot rang out.

  A burning fire exploded in his foot, but he ignored the pain.

  Trained to target body mass, he stepped sideways, aimed, and adjusted his target at the last second, to wound, not kill. He could have taken the guy’s life—without question. But the prick was still a husband, brother, son, and friend.

  He aimed for a secondary body part, and took his shot.

  Mr. Ginormous staggered back and lay unmoving.

  Heath aimed for his secondary target, but Leza had already taken the brother down and had him subdued.

  Heath kicked the gun lying on the ground away from Mr. Ginormous, retrieved his cuffs, then leaned over to secure the guy’s hands behind his back.

  “You okay?” He glanced Leza’s way and received a hairy eyeball in return. That pissed-off-mad couldn’t be aimed at him. He was the good guy here.

  She jerked the brother to his feet. “Come on, big guy. Off to jail you go.” She handed him off to the two deputies running down the alley.

  With a knee in Mr. Ginormous’s back, he clicked on his mic. “Dispatch. Watson. 10-43. Deputy down.”

  “10-4. Paramedics on their way. Where are you hurt?” the serene voice on the radio asked.

  Leza’s gaze laser-locked on him.

  “I’ve been shot in the foot.” Heat rushed up his cheeks. The guys at the station were going to laugh about this one until he was beyond sick of hearing about it.

  He rolled off Mr. Ginormous to allow Deputy Baker to drag the asshole to his feet, then tumbled onto his back, and threw a hand over his head, wincing. He closed his eyes until a tug on his leg made him lift his head.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Leza’s sarcasm seemed understandable, but with the absence of fresh adrenaline, tartness and anger slid into place.

  He hissed when she tugged on his boot strings.

  “Serves you right. You should have waited for backup. I had the situation under control.”

  I could tell. Your arms were locked behind your back, and you weren't in control. “Mr. Ginormous wanted to kidnap you. What was I supposed to
do? Shove my ass in a garbage dumpster just to save your pride?”

  She tugged off his boot. Pain sliced up his leg.

  “Wait. How did you know I was here?”

  “I saw a shadow behind the dumpster.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Hand me your flashlight. I want to see how bad this is.”

  He unhooked the flashlight from his belt to hand to her the eight-inch light. A dizzying pain prevented him looking at his foot. Seconds later, the back door of the bar slammed against the rear wall.

  “What the hell?” Jack rushed forward with a medical kit in hand. “Where are you hit?”

  Heath leaned his head forward. “My foot.”

  “His foot,” Leza said at the same time.

  “The lighting sucks back here,” Jack leaned in to check his pupil dilation and pulse. “Hey, bud. We need to stop the bleeding. The ambulance will be here shortly.

  The adrenaline pumping still had him convinced he could play Superman. He tried again to roll to his feet, but the pain in his leg kept him on the ground.

  Leza shined a light on his face. “Stop moving. Let Jack look at you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and gritted his teeth against the pain.

  Jack grabbed a pair of scissors. “Let’s remove your sock and see what we’ve got.”

  Heath couldn’t feel the metal against his skin, only the intense pain.

  “Good thing you were wearing your work boots. My guess is you have a couple of broken bones, but nothing is crushed.”

  “Will I be able to walk again?”

  “What?” Jack’s chuckle was flattened by a whole bunch of seriousness. “Trying to get out of work?”

  “Naw,” Leza chimed in. “He’s just using a hole in his foot to make the girls feel sorry for him. He thinks he’ll get laid.”

  Heath chafed at the ribbing, but didn’t respond.

  When the ambulance came rolling through the alley, Jack retook Heath’s pulse. “Follow doctor’s orders, and you’ll be back on duty in another six to eight weeks.”

  Six weeks? Well, shit.

  Jack rocked back on his heels, stood, and moved toward the paramedics to give the pair a summary.

  Heath rolled his head to see Leza. “How are you?”

  “Better than you are.” She studied his foot, but he couldn't figure out what she might be thinking. Concern? Irritation, maybe? Disgust wasn’t a factor. Blood, tendons, and bone didn’t faze her.