by Joely
“I want to ditch the gun in my safe at home so you don’t have to worry about it and I don’t have to worry about my truck getting stolen just to get the weapon.” He lowered his head so his mouth hovered near hers, though he didn’t press the advantage. “Why wouldn’t I want you to come in?”
“You work here.”
“So?”
She arched a brow at him. “I’m pretty sure somebody would recognize me as the Mistress of Dallas. Elias sure would and then everybody would talk.”
“So?”
She started up at him, eyes wide, lips parting on a soft sound that made him want to sweep her up into his arms and toss her in his truck. Or maybe just kneel right here on the pavement and profess undying love. Or better yet…
For the first time in his life, he let the idea of buying a ring and asking her to marry him form in his head. Though he wasn’t sure how one proposed to a Mistress. Maybe she did the proposing?
“That wouldn’t bother you?”
For one thing, he didn’t plan on sticking around for more than a couple of weeks, but he didn’t admit that out loud. Not yet. He wanted the moment he told her to be special and significant. Not something casual he just blurted on the street. But even if he was staying on the force, people would know eventually. He wanted to marry her, for Christ’s sake. Not hide her. Never. “The Policemen’s Ball is in two weeks. Would you be free to be my date?”
Her hand locked on his nape, her grip strong and unyielding. He closed his eyes, soaking it in. Peace. Everything would be all right. Everything would work out for the best. Everybody was safe. He could close his eyes and rest. Because his Mistress had him by the neck and wasn’t letting go.
She leaned up and nipped his earlobe, making him growl. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, sugar.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I warn you—it’s not much to look at,” Colby said as he pulled into his parking spot. “But it’s cheap, and that’s all I cared about when I signed the lease. Then I just never took the time to find a new place.”
Mal looked around the apartment complex and silently agreed. The outside of the three-story building was ugly and squat, the siding long ago faded into a miserable gray by the brutal Texas heat. Tiny postage-stamp balconies not even big enough for a gas grill—and a few looked so rusted that she’d be afraid to step foot outside for fear it’d collapse. He came around the truck and helped her out, allowing her to lead the way up the poorly lit and badly cracked sidewalk. It looked more like a drug dealer’s crack house than a cop’s home.
God, the smell. Old, musty, urine. Hopefully pet and not human. Decades of cigarettes had also been smoked on that front stoop. Worse, he had a basement apartment, so they had to go down a half-flight of steps to his door, increasing the old earthy, damp smell and the sense of claustrophobia. No wonder he always scanned the bushes and shadows. This place was downright creepy.
The thought that her soldier boy had been living like this, punishing himself for years, damned near broke her heart.
He bumped into her, crowding her toward the door. Surprised, she glanced back at him. Without looking at her, he pushed his key into her hand.
“Unlock the door and then go straight through to the bathroom,” he whispered, his voice low but urgent. “Lock the door and call 911.”
“What? Why?”
“Go, Mal. Now!”
She saw it then—a black SUV slowly headed up the road toward them, window sliding downward as she watched. Gun in hand, Colby backed against her, protecting her. Shielding her with his own body.
Heart pounding, she shoved the key into the lock and threw the door open, fully expecting him to duck inside after her. Instead, he blocked the door, reaching behind him until he could find the handle and yank the door shut. God. She wanted to screech at him to get his butt in here pronto. Where it was safe. Even knowing it was his job, that he took very seriously, it still made her sick to think of him out there facing danger. Protecting her.
Sobbing, she ran through the dark room, hoping that he didn’t have any weird furniture out in the way, but the hallway was empty. In seconds, she was safe, light on, phone out, and operator asking what her emergency was. “I’m at a cop’s apartment, Detective Colby Wade, and he told me to call for help.”
Even then, it all seemed so surreal. Until she heard the gunfire.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you all right?”
Her hand shook and she almost dropped the phone. Her heart pounded so hard she had to lean against the door a moment, waiting for the black spots to pass from her vision. “Someone’s shooting outside!”
“Is that the detective or a gunman?”
“I don’t know.” It came out more of a wail. She detested not knowing what was happening. If he was all right. More gunfire, and then the sound of squealing tires. Was he lying in the street? Bleeding to death? She had to find out. She raced back through the darkened apartment, listened at the door a moment, and heard nothing. No screams or shouts or moans, let alone gunfire. So she opened the door.
Colby stumbled inside and fell against her. She wrapped her free arm around him, slowing his descent, but she couldn’t keep him on his feet. She went down with him, keeping his head up. Her hand came away with blood and for the first time in her life, she wanted to throw her head back and wail.
However, when she spoke into the phone, her voice remained calm. He needed her at her best. “He’s been shot. His stomach, I think. He’s conscious, but unable to stand.” She set the phone aside and cradled his head in her lap. “What can I do?”
“Elias,” he ground out. “Call him.”
She searched his pockets and found his beat-up ancient flip phone. Thankfully Elias was his number one caller so it was easy to hit redial.
“Didn’t I tell you to go home?”
“I need help. Colby’s been shot.” Tears burned her eyes and her voice quivered. “What do I do?”
“Where are you?”
“His apartment.” She could hear tires squealing and the sudden roar of an engine. Elias must have been on his way home too.
“I’m on way. Did you call 911?”
“Yes. They’re on my phone.”
“Where’s the wound?”
“His stomach.” Her voice broke. She could only imagine how many organs were torn up. “He’s bleeding pretty badly.”
“Put pressure on it. A coat, a shirt, something. Just wad it up and press it hard, as hard as you can.”
He’d been carrying his suit coat. Feeling around on the floor, she found it, quickly folded it into a pillow, and pressed it against his stomach, clutching the phone against her ear with her shoulder.
“Harder,” Elias said. “I didn’t hear him groan. Don’t be afraid to hurt him. It’ll take a lot of force to stem internal bleeding.”
She did as he said, pushing more of her weight on her hands, braced over Colby’s stomach, but he didn’t groan. Not her tough soldier cop. Though his eyes tightened and he sucked in his breath, his lips twisting in a grimace. “How much longer?”
As if on cue, she heard the roar of an engine outside and a distant siren. Elias raced down the basement steps and crouched down beside her. He immediately checked Colby’s pulse in his throat.
“Hey, partner.” Colby’s voice was weaker, but he managed a ghost of a smile. “Black Suburban, no license plate, tinted windows. The shooter had a black stocking hat pulled down over his face, white T-shirt, tats on the backs of his hands. Nice rifle. Real fancy, silver stock, custom piece. I returned fire. Got him in the chest. Might have got the driver too.”
“Good work, buddy. I’ll put out an alert to the hospitals to watch for them. Ambulance is almost here.” Elias took his hand and squeezed. “You did real good.”
“Mal.”
“She’s fine,” Elias said, at the same time that Mal said, “I’m here.”
“Sorry.” Colby’s voice caught and he closed his eyes a moment. “Didn’t want you to see this
side.”
Elias gave her a slight shake of his head, his eyes tight. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to warn her off from saying, and she refused to consider that he might be trying to warn her that Colby’s condition was bad. No way. No how.
She made herself laugh, a low, wicked threat of all the terrible things she wanted to do to him. His eyes flickered back open and locked onto her face. “You’re not scaring me away so easily, detective. I’ve got plans for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Promise.”
Elias stood and went to the door, calling the EMTs. Two men and a woman were suddenly there, competent, calm hands sliding over hers and taking over. They didn’t have to tell her to make way so they could take better care of him. The woman already had an IV in, and in seconds, they had him on the stretcher and already taking him out the door. She went up the short flight after them but immediately froze.
Baby Jesus in a manger. Every cop in Dallas had raced toward Colby’s apartment, or so it looked. The street was crammed with police cars, whirling lights, uniformed officers. Elias took her arm and lead her toward his truck. “I’ll drive you. We’ll follow the ambulance. That’ll give them more room to work.”
Her ears buzzed and the sirens and lights created an eerie landscape that didn’t even seem real. Colby couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t—
“He’s going to be okay,” she said aloud. The volume and harsh tone of her own voice made her jump.
“Yeah,” Elias replied grimly as he started the truck and pulled out after the ambulance.
“He is,” she said again, firmer and calmer. I will it to be so. I won’t accept any other alternative. Colby’s fine. He’s fine, and he’s mine.
Chapter Seventeen
She’d never seen so many cops in her life. They lined the hallway and crowded the waiting room, all drinking coffee and quietly talking amongst themselves. A few kept casting curious glances her way, and she heard the whispers. Not disrespectful, but they were definitely talking. Elias sat beside her, fielding questions and deflecting anyone who approached like a guard dog. She was holding it together until Vicki Connagher came racing in with her young man. Without hesitation, Vicki wrapped her arms around her and suddenly Mal couldn’t hold the waterworks in any longer.
She hated to cry. She couldn’t even recall the last time she’d broken down like this. But the thought of Colby lying hurt and bleeding…
Her friends crowded closer. Elias, Vicki and Jesse, shielding her from the curious prying eyes of the other cops. Then Victor and Shiloh were there too. Someone passed her a pack of tissues.
“It’s all right,” Vicki whispered, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “He’s going to be fine.”
Mal sniffed and wiped her eyes, pulling herself back together enough to talk. “Sorry. You’re right. He’s in good hands. We got him here quickly.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. This is my worst nightmare.” Vicki shuddered and Elias’s arms came around her, Jesse pressing against her back, offering comfort. “If it was Elias in there, I’d be out here wailing at the top of my lungs.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Elias said in a gruff voice, though he squeezed her tighter. “You’d be too busy yelling at me to stop bleeding.”
“Reyes,” an older man with silvered hair called from several feet away.
Elias nodded. “Our lieutenant. Excuse me a moment.”
The two talked quietly and then approached the group.
“Mal, this is Lieutenant Greaves. He’d like to ask you a few questions while everything’s fresh in your mind.”
“Sure.”
Another officer joined them, taking notes as she told them what had happened. Though she couldn’t say much. It’d all happened so quickly. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at the SUV before Colby had shut the door behind her.
“Do you remember how many shots you heard?”
She couldn’t help but shudder at the memory. “First there was a lot all fast, together, like Fourth of July fireworks going off at the same time.”
“AK-47,” Elias said grimly. “Colby said it had a fancy silver stock, likely custom.”
“Then two, no three shots. Tires squealing, and then nothing. I ran back and found him collapsed against the door.”
“Did you see anything that might help us track down the shooters?”
She pictured the SUV in her mind as it rolled up, window slowly sliding down. There had been a man in the window. It was dark, and he’d had on dark clothing. But something… She closed her eyes, letting the image build. A flash of silver, the gun probably. His hand lifting it into position. “A red triangle. On the back of his hand.”
Opening her eyes, she looked from Elias to the other men. That red triangle was significant. Though they all had that closed-mouth blank cop look on their faces. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
Elias met his lieutenant’s gaze. “Guess we hit a little too close to home.”
“Does that mean you’re in danger too?” Vicki retorted.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Lieutenant Graves took Mal’s hand in his. “If you need anything, you let us know. Detective Reyes is at your disposal and will contact me at once with any change in Detective Wade’s condition. I’ve already notified his family. Sounds like they’re on their way now but it’ll take them a couple of hours to get here.”
The two cops walked off, voices low. Others met them at the door, took their orders, and immediately cleared the room, leaving just Elias and her friends.
“Well?” Vicki planted her fists on her hips and glared at Elias.
“Let’s just say every cop in the narcotics division just went on high alert.” He waited while Vicki exploded into a fit of cursing and pacing back and forth. “That red triangle belongs to one of the cartels we’ve been investigating. That tells us which one needs to be hit hardest first before this entire city takes a blood bath.”
“And what about you?”
He drew her back into his arms, dropping his chin on her head. “Aw, Vic, don’t worry about me, babe. I’m in the safest place in the world, right here by your side.”
A doctor stepped into the room and everybody immediately turned to him, eager for news. “The detective is stable. He lost a lot of blood, and we’re taking him back for surgery now to repair the damage. I won’t know the extent until we get in there, but I’m suspecting at least some small bowel damage. Nothing we can’t repair though.”
“So he’s going to be okay?” Mal asked, pleased her voice didn’t shake.
“It’s early, but I’m sure he’ll have a very good prognosis.”
Her knees weakened and she sat down quickly before she embarrassed herself. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Might as well get comfortable,” Victor said. “It’s going to be a long night. Mal, can I get you some coffee?”
She nodded, suddenly too tired to even speak. She allowed the back of her head to touch the wall.
Vicki sat beside her and took her hand in hers. “You heard the doctor. Colby’s going to be okay.”
“I know.” But the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t go away. In fact, it grew, a cold ball of lead that would crush the life out of her. This was a cop’s life. Every time he went out the door, he might be shot at, stabbed, killed in a car chase. She’d known he had a dangerous job from the beginning. But the reality…
Sucked. Big time.
Because she didn’t want him to be in danger. She wanted him safe. Happy. Whole. Not unable to sleep or eat, killing himself with guilt and responsibility for her, his partner, everybody in the entire fucking city.
“How do you do this?” She asked Vicki softly, hoping that Elias wouldn’t hear. She didn’t want to appear weak, or make him think she’d try and force Colby to quit with an ultimatum. Even though that was exactly what she wanted to do.
“I don’t,” Vicki whispered back, squeezing her hand. “I’m terrified. All. The. Time. Once, when we had a fight, he w
ouldn’t pick up when I called him. Then we heard on the news that a cop had been gunned down. I swear, I lost at least ten years off my life until we got him on the phone and knew he was all right.”
“Did you kick his ass?”
Vicki snorted. “More or less. He promised he’d never do that again. If I called, he’d answer. Period. That way I knew when he was in danger, even if he was pissed at me. He promised that once he gets promoted that he’ll ask for a transfer to a less dangerous division. With my luck, he’ll probably end up on some super secret intelligence squad and he won’t be able to tell me anything about where he is or what he’s doing.”
“Someone offered Colby a job today.”
“Oh?” Elias overheard that bit and went on full alert. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Some Special Agent.”
“Humph. I bet it was someone in the DEA. That’d be a good fit for him.”
“He turned her down.”
“Interesting.” Elias gave her a look that she couldn’t decipher. “He hasn’t said what he plans to do next?”
“Nope.”
“And you haven’t put the screws to him, trying to make him quit?”
She gave him a look of disdain that he’d have no difficulty deciphering. “Oh, I’ve put screws to him, but I haven’t said a single word about trying to get him to quit.”
“You don’t like this.”
“Well, fuck, no, I don’t, Detective Reyes.” She stood slowly, narrowing her eyes and focusing her will on him. He bristled, jaw jutting out, showing his alpha dog side. “But that doesn’t mean I’d try and make him quit his job if that’s what he wants to do.”
Jesse, of all people, stepped closer to Elias and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering something to him. Jesse might be one of the most submissive men Mal had ever seen, but he had no fear approaching his Domme’s other lover, even when Elias was starting to show teeth. In fact, Elias immediately acquiesced. He even fucking apologized.
“I’m sorry, Mal. I’ve got no right to question you. I’m worried about him and snapping at you won’t help anybody, least of all him.”