Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1)

by Ranae Rose

  The place was popular, but so were plenty of other places. There was no shortage of fantastic food on the island – in that respect, it mirrored its neighboring city, Charleston.

  “Is everything okay?” Belle’s clear voice pierced the veil of Jackson’s anger.

  He spoke lowly, for her ears only. “See that guy at the table with the brunette in the white shirt? That’s Sanders.”

  Belle’s jaw tightened visibly, but her eyes seemed to soften, transforming into dark pools of understanding.

  “I’m guessing you had no idea he’d be here?”

  Jackson shook his head. “Can’t seem to take a step without running into him lately. Don’t know what the deal is.”

  South Island had a population of about sixty thousand; that should’ve been enough of a crowd for Sanders to get lost in.

  After a few more unhappy murmurs, they all went back to their meals. What else could they do?

  It wasn’t a crime for Sanders to show up at Captain Jack’s for dinner, though just about everything else he did seemed to be.

  Whether or not the encounter had been intentional, the evening’s mood was ruined, at least for Jackson.

  CHAPTER 23

  The farther Belle got from the table on the patio, the less tension there was in the air. Feeling mildly guilty, she breathed a sigh of relief and entered the restaurant, slipping into the women’s restroom seconds later.

  The evening had started out well, and she’d had high hopes – hopes that Jackson’s co-workers would like her, that she’d be a little more acquainted with this aspect of his life by the time they left Captain Jack’s.

  Then Sanders had rolled in like a storm cloud, striking Jackson with a sour mood.

  She couldn’t blame him. Seeing the man she’d heard so many awful things about – and the woman he abused – made her stomach turn, too.

  Reaching for a stall door, she stifled a sigh of frustration. It wasn’t fair that Jackson had to deal with Sanders’ crap at work and – seemingly – everywhere he went on his own time, too.

  She stepped forward, pulling open the stall door, and nearly collided with a woman who emerged from the neighboring stall.

  “Oh! Sorry…” The other woman’s ballet flats shuffled against the floor tiles, and Belle braced herself with a hand on a stall divider to keep from tripping backward.

  “It’s okay.” Belle started to smile, her gaze catching the stranger’s.

  The smiled died on her lips. Standing scarcely a foot from her was Kate Sanders, eyes wide and lips cracked.

  For a split second, the silence was absolute.

  “You’re with Officer Calder,” Kate said.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell him not to come by our house anymore.” Kate kept her voice low, and Belle could hear the tremor in it, along with a nervous, steely reserve. “Please.”

  Belle was stunned, tongue-tied. She wanted to say something helpful, something intelligent. But what in the world could she say that Jackson couldn’t?

  She couldn’t blame this woman for Jackson’s trouble at work when she was suffering so much worse at home.

  “I’ll tell him what you said,” Belle promised, “but… You called him there for a reason, didn’t you?”

  Kate shook her head, causing wisps of dark hair to float around her thin face. “It was a mistake. My husband and I fight occasionally, but who doesn’t? We love each other, and Officer Calder should stay away.” Her gaze darkened, her lips sinking at the corners. “Please make sure he doesn’t come by again.”

  Belle opened her mouth to reply, but it was too late.

  “Thank you.” Kate rushed past her, past the sinks and out of the restroom before Belle could say another word.

  Alone, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d failed – missed an opportunity to make a difference.

  Of course, that was probably ridiculous. No snippet of sympathy or wisdom whispered in a public restroom was going to change a battered woman’s mind or life. On a practical level, she knew that – on another, she felt bad for not being able to do anything.

  Which was how Jackson felt all the time.

  Minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom frowning, a newfound empathy for Jackson weighing her down.

  Kate Sanders had already returned to her table with her husband, and wait staff had gathered around it. As Belle approached the table where Jackson and his co-workers sat, a waitress lowered a cake onto the Sanders’ table and led the group in a rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

  Candlelight illuminated Kate’s smile, which looked forced.

  Belle sank down into her seat beside Jackson, her stomach a mess of knots. The distress she’d heard in Kate’s voice was still ringing in her ears, and seeing her face lit by candlelight as the restaurant staff wished her well was incongruous.

  Happy birthday? Kate seemed like someone starved for happiness, no matter what she’d said in the restroom. A deep pang of pity sliced through Belle, underscoring her worry for Jackson.

  Negative emotion whirled around and through her, and Sanders was at the center of it all, like a cancer branching out into the lives of multiple people at once. It wasn’t fair that one person should be allowed to wreak havoc on so many lives.

  “Belle?” Jackson’s voice called her attention back to the table.

  “Yeah?” She turned to face him.

  “Something wrong?” There was a certain degree of suspicion in his eyes, as if he somehow knew she’d spoken to Kate.

  She tipped her head ever so slightly toward the Sanders’ table, where the birthday commotion was dying down. “I feel bad for her. And you.”

  “Don’t waste your pity on me.” He took her hand, his fingertips rough against her wrist. “What do you say we get out of here soon? Go somewhere where we won’t run into anyone unexpected, or anyone at all.”

  Her pulse fluttered just beneath the surface of her skin, beating against his fingertips.

  If it hadn’t been for the Sanders’ appearance, she might’ve been reluctant to leave early. She liked seeing Jackson with his co-workers, his friends – seeing him in the world he’d worked so hard to make his own. It made that aspect of who he was – who he’d become during their years of separation – more real.

  She liked that side of him, the one that wore a badge. It was clear he was driven to protect people, and the job suited him.

  “Sounds like a good idea.” She kept her voice low, flashing him a smile as she squeezed his hand.

  Not all cops were like Jackson, but at the moment, she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want him to have to think about it, either.

  She wanted to make him happy, like he deserved to be – like he made her.

  * * * * *

  “That’s all she said.” Belle lay on her side in bed, the sheets stopping just below the pearl-white curve of one bare shoulder. “Well, that and that she and her husband love each other.”

  She frowned, and Jackson sighed.

  Fuck, he didn’t want Belle to be involved with this. But here she was, relaying messages whispered in a bathroom – messages from the battered woman he was allegedly having an affair with.

  “Fucking Sanders.” His jaw ached, though making love to Belle had driven the tension out of the rest of his body.

  “At least he didn’t make a scene at the restaurant.”

  That was cold comfort, and not exactly a surprise since four other officers had been at Jackson’s side.

  “He’s a coward. If he wants to start shit, he won’t do it when I’ve got four friends at my side and he’s got none.”

  Belle shifted on her side. “I hate seeing you so stressed over this.”

  Reflexively, he tried to hide it, to smooth his expression. But it was way too late – he’d been bitching about Sanders for weeks. “Sorry.”

  She touched his temple, her fingertips combing through the edge of his hair. “I just meant that I hate that this is happening. I hope your lieutenant g
ets back soon and sends Sanders back to his old platoon.”

  Yeah, but how much damage could Sanders wreck on Jackson’s reputation and career in that amount of time? It seemed as if that was what he was bent on doing, as revenge. He couldn’t just count on Lieutenant Aldred to swoop in like a mother hen and shield him from the consequences of Sanders’ bullshit.

  He said so to Belle.

  She frowned, tracing the line of his jaw.

  He loved that she cared, but he hated to see her unhappy because of his problems.

  “C’mon,” he said. “You let me talk too much. Don’t you have any problems you can lay on me so I don’t feel like this is so one-sided?”

  Her lips quirked in a lightning-quick smile. “Well, nothing strange has happened at work lately. It seems as if the green dildo incident will forever remain a mystery. Sometimes I think I’d rather deal with awkward inanimate objects than our student worker though…”

  She told him a story about some kid who couldn’t take a hint – the one whose hands she’d bandaged after he’d spilled hot coffee all over himself.

  “Well, I can solve that problem for you tomorrow. What time does this kid show up at your office?”

  She laughed. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, Jackson. He’s perfectly capable of hurting himself badly enough with just a hot beverage.”

  He reacted reflexively to the sound of her laughter, grinning. “I never said I was going to hurt him. Scaring him would be a different story.”

  “But you’re supposed to be a defender of the innocent – a protector of the people.”

  He snorted. “I’ll gladly protect and serve you … twerps who think they can steal you away from me, not so much. Besides, you work in Charleston, and that’s out of my jurisdiction. Protecting Lothario Junior is somebody else’s job.”

  “Ha ha. You’re all talk – I know you don’t have the heart to bully anyone.”

  He leaned in close, breathing in her scent as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not as sweet as you seem to think. In fact, I’m the jerk who wrote you a traffic ticket, remember?”

  “Hmm. Speaking of that…” She ran a hand over his bare hip and ribs, stopping with her palm over his heart. “I went ahead and paid the ticket – decided not to fight it in court.”

  He froze as the heat of her touch spread through his chest. “You did?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Shit. “I wasn’t going to show up for the court date, Belle.”

  “Sure, you say that now…”

  “I’m serious. I had other plans.”

  She tipped her head back far enough to make eye contact with him and arched a brow. “What were they?”

  The heat in his chest spread to his face. He was actually blushing, and it made him feel even more idiotic.

  “I wasn’t going to show for court, but I was going to be waiting when you walked out of the courthouse in the clear. Figured you’d have the rest of the day off work, and I’d whisk you away for a romantic afternoon.”

  “Really?” A handful of emotions flickered across her face in quick succession: skepticism, amusement and surprise.

  “Yeah. It was gonna be a surprise.” Well, that ship had sailed straight up Shit Creek.

  “Aww… See, you are as sweet as I thought.”

  He snorted. “I tried.”

  “We can still have the romantic afternoon, can’t we? And now you won’t have to feel guilty about letting a reckless lead foot off the hook.”

  “It was your first ticket as an adult. I should’ve let you go.”

  She shrugged. “Can’t blame you for wanting an excuse to see me again. At the time, you didn’t know things were going to work out this way.”

  She gestured down at her naked body half-draped in sheets.

  “You’ll have work on the day that was supposed to be our court date, won’t you? It was a Thursday.”

  “For you, I’ll take the afternoon off.”

  “All right. It’s a date.”

  She wasn’t even mad. In fact, if the look on her face was any indication, she thought the situation was funny. He’d written her a ticket – fined her – and she was looking forward to their next date.

  He couldn’t keep fucking up like that – women like her didn’t grow on trees. He wanted to keep her around like he wanted his next breath.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I guess someone’s got a boyfriend.” Keira’s voice echoed through the admissions office Monday morning.

  Belle stayed put in her desk chair, halfway through typing an e-mail.

  “Either that, or our mystery visitor has gotten classier…”

  Belle paused, swiveling in her chair and leaning back to peer through the glass wall panel beside her door.

  Keira stood at the reception desk, eye-to-eye with a bouquet of roses.

  Make that an explosion of roses. There had to be two dozen of them, vividly scarlet.

  “Belle!” Keira turned toward Belle’s office, meeting her gaze through the glass. “I’d carry them in to you, but I don’t want to risk throwing out my back.”

  Belle blinked as realization set in. By the time she rose from her chair, she was torn between flattered surprise and worry.

  The roses had to have cost a fortune, and part of her balked at the idea of Jackson spending so much on them. Still, they were beautiful and the gesture was incredibly sweet.

  “You know the person who sent these, right?” Keira looked wary.

  “I think so.”

  Keira nodded. “Good.”

  And that was that – she didn’t pry. It just wasn’t her way.

  Belle carried the cut glass vase carefully to her office, careful not to bump any of the blossoms on the door frame. She was aware of Zackary watching, but pretended not to be and then shut the door.

  Once she was alone, she plucked the little envelope from the plastic prong tucked into the bouquet and broke its seal to find a card that unfolded to reveal a hand-written note.

  Belle, Thought these might brighten your Monday. Thinking of you. Love, Jackson

  P.S. If your little admirer is watching, do me a favor and parade these by his desk again.

  She bit her lip, stifling laughter because Zackary probably was still watching her through the glass panel. When the urge faded, she re-read the note, especially the last part.

  Love, Jackson

  Then and there, she decided those were her two favorite words in the English language. They were a pleasure to read, and she could only imagine how much sweeter they might sound rolling off Jackson’s lips someday.

  Until then, she’d treasure the note and those two words scrawled in his handwriting. He must’ve stopped by the florist and filled out the card himself. Maybe he’d even sealed the envelope while leaning over the counter in uniform. She could see it clearly in her mind’s eye, and it made her heart beat faster.

  * * * * *

  Day to day. Hand to mouth. That was how Jackson had lived most of his life, not knowing there was any other way. As he watched a couple walk out of the courthouse on Thursday afternoon, he wondered whether he’d changed.

  He pegged them as thirty-ish. The woman wore a knee-length white dress and heels, and the man was in shirtsleeves despite the heat. She had her hair pinned up and was carrying a bouquet of ivory lilies.

  Newlyweds. There was no wedding party, no photographer snapping pictures like a paparazzo. But they looked happy.

  It made him think as he sat in his car in the lot across the street from the courthouse, waiting for Belle to show up. Specifically, it made him think about how important she’d become to him so quickly.

  But that wasn’t quite true, was it? His desire for her had always run deep; it was just that he’d never had the chance to run with it until a couple months ago. Now that he did, he didn’t want to stop.

  He spent most of his time thinking about the here and now, a sphere of time that had become synonymous with thoughts of Belle. And when he thought
about the future, that carried over – in his mind, she was there.

  There was no question of how much of his life he wanted to spend with her or how much of himself he wanted to give her. Whether he died tomorrow or lived to be one hundred, he wanted to spend whatever time he had on this earth with her.

  When her car came into view and she pulled up beside him, he cut his engine off and stepped out into the parking lot.

  She met him on the sunbaked asphalt, smiling in a white dress.

  The sight of her was like a punch to the gut – it took his breath away and left him feeling weak.

  It was a sun dress, with crisscrossing straps and a small V of lace at the neckline. Nothing elaborate, and perfect for summer on the island. Still, it made his head spin.

  “You look beautiful.” He took her hand, trapping her bare fingers beneath his.

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “So, where are we headed first?”

  They’d agreed to meet across the street from the courthouse so they could have the exact day he’d planned for them.

  “This way.” He maintained his hold on her hand and led her away from the public parking lot, toward the coffee house just a block away. “Figured we’d get a cup of coffee first. I usually stop by this place whenever I have to appear in court – it’s good.”

  In front of the café, he stopped holding her hand long enough to open the door for her.

  Inside, the small space was so fragrant that its customers might as well have been buried alive in coffee beans. That was one of his favorite things about the place – the smell.

  “Get whatever you want,” he said, “but I have to recommend their iced mocha coffees. We’re going for a walk, and one of those would keep you cool.”

  “Okay.”

  She took his advice, and they both ordered the same thing. Once they were back outside with their drinks, the sun immediately sent condensation rolling down the sides of the plastic cup and over his fingers.