BLINDED (Elkridge Series Book 1)

by Lyz Kelley

  After the day she’d had her courage reserves were empty.

  Joey propped his hand on the nearest wall to lock his knees so he wouldn’t fall over. He swore under his breath, encouraging his fatigued muscles to be overachievers. “Just a change of clothes would be appreciated.”

  He didn’t turn or move because it would hurt, and the hardwood under his feet would leave him with some impressive bruises if his knees decided not to hold.

  “You sure you don’t want a shower?”

  “If you would just show me where I can lie down and then push me over, I’d appreciate the help. Right now, I can’t bend over to get my shoes off, much less get undressed.”

  “You lie down in your condition, and you’re likely never to get up again. You need an ice pack first, then a hot shower. I can help.”

  “I think I’d rather curl into a ball on the floor and roll into the bedroom.”

  “What’s your problem, Gaccione? It’s not like I’m going to see anything.”

  He lifted his Saint Michael’s medallion to his lips, kissed the gold disk, and groaned a prayer, just in case the Higher-up was listening. No way was he signing up for ten extra Hail Mary’s for pushing her into something she didn’t want.

  “See if you can make the fifteen steps to the bathroom,” she encouraged. “I’ll find something to ease the pain.”

  The pain from his injury suddenly locked his shoulder blades together, his breathing reduced to small hitches of air. He couldn’t breathe without pain slicing across his body. “Ah, not sure I can make it to the bathroom. How about I sit at the table?”

  He managed the steps necessary to land on the oak spindle-backed chair, missing the small round table by a couple inches. Mara hurried back to check on him, bottle in hand. “Read this. Make sure the label says diazepam.”

  She held the bottle an inch away from his nose, making his eyes cross. He pushed her arm back. “Yep, that’s the right stuff.”

  “I’ll get you an ice bag first, then we can worry about a shower. You shouldn’t take these meds yet. You might pass out in the bathtub.”

  Why couldn’t he just take one now to knock his pathetic self out and avoid dying of embarrassment? He was twenty-eight, not sixty-eight. Mara wrapped a damp kitchen towel around the zippered bag and placed the ice on his shoulder. A loathsome sissy-hiss escaped him.

  “Why didn’t you let the paramedics check you out?” Her accusatory tone made him wince.

  “My shoulder didn’t hurt this much at the time.”

  “Of course it didn’t. At the time, you had a gallon of adrenaline pounding through your veins. Since I can’t see, you need to tell me whether an emergency room visit is warranted.”

  “It isn’t,” came out of his mouth way too quickly, and Mara’s lips took on that determined little pooch. Damn. “Look. I’ve had a lot worse. Like you said, ice pack, hot shower, and some rest will fix me right up. I’ll even take one of your muscle relaxers, which I never take, if you drop the emergency room bit. I’ll be fine.”

  The silent moments ticked on as she debated. “Fine. But if your shoulder isn’t better in the morning, you’re going to get X-rays to make sure you didn’t break anything.”

  Nothing was broken. He’d already been there and done that…and been sidelined for the soccer season for the privilege.

  “Are you numb yet? Ready for a shower?”

  He closed his eyes, dreading the pain of standing. “Sure,” he said, and gritted his teeth in preparation.

  Mara extended her hand. With a tug, a pull and a bit of jostling back and forth, he made it to the bathroom and plopped down on the toilet, only to have Mara kneel and attack his shoelaces moments later. Buddy sat in the doorway with a look of poor-guy empathy.

  She hesitated before aiming for his belt buckle.

  “You want to go there? ’Cause I’m game if you are.” The timbre of his voice deepened, becoming soft, yet carnal.

  Her hands slowly retreated. That’s what I thought. Disappointment added another layer of ache to his already bruised body.

  She pushed to her feet. “Go ahead and make jokes, but if you’re not in the shower in five minutes, I’m going to come help. I learned what it’s like after having my legs smashed. Painful and humbling months of therapy taught me not to be so proud.”

  Guilt set in before she rounded the corner and abandoned him to his pride. Appearing helpless wasn’t something he accepted easily, but his body refused to respond the way his sixteen-year-old body had—practically a rubber band, snapping back into shape instantly.

  “You doing okay?”

  “Yep. No need to worry.”

  Without an option, he started at the top and worked his way down, leaving a heap of clothes on the bathroom floor. After twenty minutes of heated bliss, he rotated the tap, and wondered if crawling to the bedroom might be a better alternative. He braced himself and, inch by inch, lifted one foot out of the tub, then the other until both feet were steady on the tiled floor. Slowly, he wrapped the towel around his waist, securing the cloth around his midsection. If his sergeant saw his sorry-ass condition, he’d be placed on physical fitness duty for three months.

  The bed called oh-so-sweetly, but just as he got to the door, she was there with her hand outstretched and on a collision course he couldn’t avoid.

  Her small hand slid down his torso. The feather-light touch caressed his senses. He focused on holding onto his towel.

  Mara pulled her hand back. “I…um…did the clothes I left not fit?”

  “I figured if I had to get up in the night, dealing with only a towel would be easier.”

  Stupid. Real stupid. Buddy could have come up with something better than that pitiful excuse. He winced, not from pain, but from the awkwardness.

  “I put the pills and a glass of water on the nightstand. After you get settled, I’ll put your clothes on the chair just inside the door, in case you change your mind.”

  She had changed into nightclothes, and he caught a view of the lettering below. Her oversized T-shirt said, When one is blind, the truth is heard.

  His body had heard the truth, even if his brain was a little slow. He wanted her. No one else, ever.

  He let out a slow breath. “Just get me to the door, and I should be good from there.”

  “Put your arm over my shoulder,” Mara said. “We’ll take it slow.”

  She walked. He hobbled. They tipped into the wall. He cringed. Eventually, he managed to make the twenty feet to the first bedroom.

  Her room was neat, a queen bed in the middle surrounded by an oak dresser and nightstand. With the blinds and drapes open, he could see the handmade quilt and pictures of her family lining her dresser. There were even pictures hanging on her wall and a television sitting on top of a stand…odd, given the fact she couldn’t see.

  Joey turned, and his weight tilted him toward the bed. Mara released him just as he landed. “Do you keep any weapons in the house? A gun maybe?”

  “No. Can you imagine me with a gun? I just might shoot Tony.” She straightened. “Gaccione, I know you detective types have an overprotective gene buried somewhere in your body, but I don’t need your testosterone directed at me. I’m a bit old for a babysitter.” She backed up two steps and bumped into the doorframe. “I turned the electric blanket on and put some sports cream on the nightstand, next to the muscle relaxers, just in case. Can I get you anything else?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  Good. Good seemed a relative term. If Mara didn’t have that headstrong, I-don’t-need-anyone, ornery look on her face, he might be good.

  “Unless.” His word seemed to stretch into almost a question.

  “Unless?”

  “I wouldn’t mind some company.”

  Those blue eyes he’d come to love stared, unblinking. “I’m assuming you mean to continue where we left off the other night. It’s a tempting offer, but I’m not sure you’re in any condition for company.”

  “You could be on
top.” It would hurt like hell, but I would be in heaven.

  “A few minutes ago you couldn’t even move. Take your pain meds, Joey. That’s what you need right now. Besides, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Good night, then.”

  His disappointment didn’t stop her from backing out of the room. When she disappeared, a whole new kind of ache wrapped around his heart and squeezed.

  He looked at the medicine bottle, knowing nothing would ease the heartbreak kind of ache.

  Besides, he couldn’t take the pills anyway. He needed to stay alert—protect her—there was a killer on the loose.

  Chapter Twenty

  I can’t, rolled around in Mara’s mind.

  She lay on her back. Face pointed at the ceiling. Sleep evading her desperate need to rest. Minutes passed, then an hour.

  Images of a hot Colorado day ten years prior ran and re-ran in her head. The heat index had soared above a hundred degrees, unusual for late summer. The high school soccer team decided to take their shirts off after practice. Her cheerleading squad was practicing their routine and got the fifty-yard-line view. Coach Leanamen ruined the heavenly, picture-perfect scene when he swore he’d have every one of the boys suspended if they didn’t put their shirts back on before he counted to ten.

  But that center-seat view was nothing compared to the smooth skin she had experienced personally. Her hand opened and closed, remembering.

  Her mind raced back several dozen hours and contemplated toned thighs and quad muscles that supported an adorable, athletic rump. Mara rolled onto her side, hoping reality would stop her from pursuing any more impractical ideas.

  Joey probably had several interests in Seattle. Maybe some cute district attorney, or a warrant officer? Who knew? He still wasn’t a great talker. Besides, what did it matter? Time spent on the impractical and excuses were just a waste of precious energy.

  Joey, while exciting, definitely fell into the impractical category.

  When the night air turned chilly, she pulled the comforter up under her chin. She spelled the word sleep over and over and over again in her mind, willing her body and mind into slumber so she could avoid thinking about the man in the next room. On the eighteenth spelling, a shout made Buddy jump to his feet. He whined. His whiskered nose nudged her chin.

  “I heard it. It’s okay.”

  When another loud shout disturbed the quiet, she pushed the blanket aside and made her way to her bedroom door.

  “Sam!” Joey shouted. “Hold on, Bro.”

  The anguish in his voice made her worry. She pushed the door open. Muffled sobs came from the bed. “Someone help him,” Joey pleaded to some hallucination.

  Mara’s legs bumped the edge of the mattress. Not hesitating, she climbed on the bed. “Joey, you’re dreaming.”

  A hand encircled her wrist. “Call for help. He’s bleeding to death.”

  “Joey. You’re dreaming,” she said with empathy, knowing the horrific nightmares of the past could seem so real.

  She reached a tentative hand forward, her fingers encountering his face. His jaw muscles tensed under her touch. Her fingers came away wet with his tears.

  “Mara?”

  “You were calling for Sam.”

  He pulled her fingers from his face. “I’ve had the same nightmare over and over and over again. I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  The vigor of his refusal meant not even a can opener could open that topic easily. Mara sat back on her heels, trying to think of a way to broach the subject. He had to talk to someone. Maybe if he knew he wasn’t alone.

  She settled on the edge of the bed. “After my parents died, I had nightmares for months.” She fisted her hand for courage. “In one, the car was rotating through the air in slow motion. The car stopped. Suspended. I kept waiting to crash, but the car never hit the ground. In another one, I could see my parents in the front seat. I kept trying to get them to say something. They just continued to stare out the mangled window. Sometimes I wouldn’t sleep for days. I was so afraid to dream.”

  Joey rolled to his side. “I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff—stabbings, gang turf wars, bodies burned beyond recognition, child abuse. But this…this is something different. It’s like he’s jumping right out of the crime scene photographs to tell me something.”

  “Losing family hurts more. It’s personal.”

  He threaded his fingers through hers. “It’s not just that.”

  The dog nudged her leg to get attention. “It’s okay, Buddy. He’s all right.” She stroked fingers through the dog’s fur and pulled gently on his soft, floppy ear before turning back to Joey. “It’s hard losing family. If you don’t want to talk to me, Buddy’s a halfway decent listener,” she said to provide a hopefully helpful grain of levity. “He’d probably prefer to share a man’s point of view rather than listening to me chatter on about flowers and inventory lists.”

  Joey puffed out a thin stream of air, indicating he appreciated her attempt to lighten his mood. His thumb drew circles in her palm. “There have been so many times I wanted to drive to the airport, leave, and bury myself in work. I truly miss him.” His words were slurred. “Everywhere I look, there’s something to remind me of him. Staying in his place nearly gutted me. His favorite pair of boots, the picture of us from three years ago in Vegas, his favorite drinking chair, and the half-bottle of single malt scotch. Did you know this morning they hung a line-of-duty plaque honoring his death at the station?”

  “I didn’t know.” She pulled his hand into hers and began to draw words with her finger on the palm.

  “How am I supposed to go back to my life when everything I’ve done, I’ve done so that my family would see I was better than him? Better educated with a better job. All those long hours of studying and working—none of it matters. I wanted to make my dad proud, and why? I don’t need his approval. I never did. I just wanted someone to believe in me. The unit back in Seattle—they’ve got my back.”

  “I believe in you.” Mara crawled farther onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard and attempted to drag the grieving man into her arms, before he helped. “Give into the pain, Joey. Don’t hold on to the regret anymore. Let the grief go.”

  Threading his soft hair through her fingers, she started to sing one of the songs she’d been working on for several weeks. The song had never sounded right until the rawness of anger, sorrow and vulnerability of the last eighteen hours caught up and sank in. Eventually, the arms circling around her waist grew heavy. Wave after wave of sobs tore at her heart. His emotions stirred her own. The demons from her past shook the walls of the cages where she’d banished them.

  She could empathize. Returning to Elkridge after the accident hadn’t been easy. After the first thirty days, two aunts, an uncle, and a handful of cousins went back to their normal lives and left her and Tony to figure out how to move forward without any of the skills needed to make the right decisions. At least Joey had a family to support him, and she’d be there for him if he let her in.

  In her lap, Joey’s head became heavier. Then he said, “When I was sixteen, I used to sneak into the church balcony on Thursdays to listen to you sing. The sound of your voice always touched my soul. Tonight, your singing took me back. Tonight, I realized I loved you even then.”

  Her heart paused at the sound of those three gigantic, earthshaking words.

  Without a full dose of painkillers circulating through his body, she’d bet he never would have dropped the L-word.

  He didn’t really mean it. The past several days had been emotional for him. That was all.

  But the sentiment was lovely to hear. Maybe she should sing his song. The one she’d pulled out of her old files and dusted off. Even if she sang, he wouldn’t remember. Not with the drugs in his system.

  Pulling the covers over his bare shoulders, she let the melody drift into the night, allowing him to fall further and further into an ea
sy sleep. When the song finished, she lifted his arm to slip quietly away, only to have both arms wrap more securely around her waist.

  She understood what being alone in the dark felt like. The isolation. The abandonment. The need to cling to something solid.

  Her head dropped back against the headboard. “Well, Buddy, guess I’m stuck here.” She pulled the comforter higher across his shoulder.

  “How am I ever going to let him get on that plane without getting on my knees and begging him to stay?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Joey had no intention of missing the most beautiful blessing he’d ever been granted just to get up and let a carpenter and locksmith fix a door. He’d learned his lesson the first time. A cute and mussed Mara waking in his arms was an unlikely and extraordinary event.

  He remembered how she’d come to be in the same bed, but the reason she’d come didn’t matter. The erotic and romantic implication was just too hard to pass up.

  Buddy circled the edge of the bed, jiggling the mattress before flopping onto the floor.

  Mara brushed a tuft of hair off her face and grumbled, “Buddy, give me five more minutes, and I’ll let you out.”

  A slow reluctance pushed Joey toward the self-sacrificing ledge. “How about you sleep and I let him out? But you have to promise me you won’t get up this time.”

  Mara bolted upright. “Joey?”

  A laugh rumbled from his belly. “I hope you don’t make a habit of waking up with strange men in your bed. Of course it’s me.”

  Her instantly relaxed body felt as pliable as putty. He pulled her back under the covers to keep her warm.

  “You were shouting in your sleep, probably from taking the meds. I came to check on you. I must have fallen asleep.”

  “I didn’t take any meds. Mark’s not in custody, and I didn’t want to take the risk.”

  A funny expression crossed her face as memories of the night started clicking into place. She’d held him. Comforted him. She smelled like lavender. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck to breathe her in. Trained to control his body, his emotions, and use cool judgment, he decided to abandon reason and let his lips connect with her soft skin.