by Jeffe Kennedy, Christine d’Abo, Elise Logan, Emily-Ryan Davis, Jodie Griffin
They drove through town in relative silence. It was only when they got to the airport that Becca spoke up, her voice wistful, her eyes dreamy. “I always wonder where the people who own these planes go.”
“Me too,” he admitted, and it wasn’t a lie. Theirs was a small regional airport with a lot of corporate jets, small private craft, and the occasional landing of a blimp. Even presidential helicopters, due to the proximity of Camp David. “Wherever it is, it’s nowhere I can afford to go. Not on a cop’s salary.”
She snorted. “Not on a teacher’s salary, either.”
He raised his brow, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Isn’t your husband a hotshot lawyer? I figured you took all kinds of vacations.”
She flinched at the words, then turned to stare out the window.
“Bec?” When she didn’t answer, he pulled the cruiser to a stop near one of the hangars and turned to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. Shit, he hadn’t liked the guy and was jealous as hell of him, but he hoped something bad hadn’t happened. It would explain the weight loss and the exhaustion, though. “Rebeccah? Talk to me.”
* * *
Becca heard Jeremy’s honest concern and made herself meet his gaze. She’d figured this conversation would happen sooner or later, but she hadn’t really planned for how she’d answer it. She stared down at her hand, at the naked ring finger that still felt empty, even though she’d been relieved to be free of Sam. “I’m not with him anymore. We’re divorced.”
“How long?” Jeremy growled.
She jerked her head back up, startled by the vehemence in his tone, his choice of words, and the clench of his fingers against her skin. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight, like it had been earlier at the station. “Nine months since we separated. Four months since the divorce was final.”
“Fucking waste,” he muttered under his breath.
She didn’t understand what he meant, but the look in his eyes was disconcerting, to say the least. “I...what?”
He dropped his hand and fell silent, just watching her. Her stomach churned. For months, she’d imagined telling him she was single. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected, though. Interest, maybe. Sympathy, even. But anger? It was reminiscent of their last ride-along, and this was why she’d considered doing her mitzvah in the station rather than with him. When she’d first met him, he was easygoing and fun to talk with. But over the years, he’d changed. And this Jeremy—this intense, brooding guy—made her itchy and nervous. Not necessarily in a bad way, but totally aware of him on every level. “Jeremy?”
Her cell vibrated. She ignored it, focusing instead on the man she couldn’t get out of her thoughts, the one who still had his eyes locked on her face as though he were searching for something there.
“You should answer that.”
With a sigh, she dropped her eyes and looked at the screen. Her best friend, Hannah, who was riding with another officer. The texts came one after the other in quick bursts, kind of the way she spoke. Fun stuff. Glad u talked me into this. Hot cop. Single. Not Jewish, which may kill my parents, but oh well. One long pause, then another text. Going for it. Not getting any younger.
In spite of the tension in the car, Becca laughed.
“Something funny?”
She looked up at the question on his face and giggle-snorted. “My friend Hannah. She’s riding with Officer...” she paused, looked at her phone, “...Christianson. She said he’s hot and she’s not getting younger. She’s only twenty-three. She’s got plenty of time.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Matt’s okay. Good guy, great cop. Single, as a far as I know.”
She nodded and dropped her phone back into her lap. That did make her feel better, but you never really knew, did you? She stared at her naked ring finger again. The silence between them stretched on for what felt like forever.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got divorced, Bec?”
Right for the hard questions. “I was going to, but... Does it matter?”
He grunted. “Fuck, yeah, it matters.” The minute the words came out, he flushed. “Sorry.”
Though she was still trying to process what he was getting at, she answered his apology. “What, for the F bomb? I teach middle school, remember? They love that word. And I have three big brothers, so I’m more than familiar with it.” She rolled her eyes at his raised brow. “I’m not some recluse who’s never heard anyone swear before. And I’ve been known to drop my own F bombs a time or two.”
With that, Jeremy’s lips quirked into a tight smile, though again, it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Really, a nice Jewish girl like you, swearing? I’m appalled.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. In the last few years of their marriage, whenever Sam had gotten mad at her for something, that’s what he’d thrown at her. She swore? She wasn’t behaving like a nice Jewish girl. She wanted more than the missionary position in bed? She wasn’t behaving like a proper Jewish woman. She knew Jeremy was teasing, but damn, she wished he’d chosen other words. Any other words. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced her insecurities back into the farthest reaches of her mind. They didn’t belong here and, dammit, she wouldn’t let Sam ruin things for her now that she’d gotten back on her feet.
She forced herself to look at Jeremy and was bowled over by his tight jaw and narrowed eyes. She froze, locked in his intense gaze.
Chapter Two
What. The. Fuck.
Jeremy had a sick feeling in his gut, and he didn’t like what it was telling him. Even though he was reeling from the news she was divorced, had in fact been divorced for half a damn year, he’d tossed a joking comment to Becca. She’d turned as white as a corpse, and still as one, too. He’d seen that reaction before, in the line of duty.
In women who’d been abused.
Instant denial made him snarl low in his throat and she shrank back, solidifying his theory even further. “Oh, God. What the hell did he do to you?”
The moment the words came out, he wanted to call them back. All those years of training and he just blurted it out like that? Nice work, asshole. Her eyes widened, but he couldn’t back down now. Wouldn’t back down now. Needed to know, personally not professionally. “Your ex. What. Did. He. Do?”
The sound she made was half sob, half hysterical laugh. “He did me a favor. He gave me the reason I needed to leave him.”
He’d wanted her since the first day she’d climbed into his cruiser and today was no different. He’d seen her a grand total of ten times, for no more than eight hours each. No, make that eleven times. He’d run into her and her husband once when he was providing security at a charity event. She’d been dressed to the nines in a modest yet sexy-as-sin dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. He remembered thinking then that her husband, whose eyes had shifted around the room looking at every woman but the one with him, didn’t deserve her. Jeremy, on the other hand, had seen no one but her. He forced his mind back to now and tried to keep his voice even. “Did he hurt you, Becca?”
She touched her cheek and his blood ran cold. “O-only once. I left him that night.”
Fucking hell. “Why didn’t you call me?”
She turned shocked eyes on him. “What?”
“You should have called me or someone else in the department. Rebeccah, we’ve all known you for five years. Any one of us would’ve helped you.”
Her spine snapped straight, her gaze serious and steady. “I didn’t need to. I handled it myself.”
He leveled a look at her, which she met head on. Jesus, she was something else, and his respect for her grew. He nodded slowly. “I guess you did, but I wish you’d called.”
She blew out a sigh. “Can we shelve this? Because really, I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fair enough. But, Bec? We
’re gonna have to talk about it sometime. Sometime soon.”
She muttered something under her breath, something in a foreign language, and then relented, crossing her arms and sitting back against the seat. “Fine. But not today.”
Her stubborn attitude ticked him off and turned him on, but before he could decide which was stronger, his radio chirped again. Christ, it was going to be one of those Christmases where he went non-stop all fucking day. He slid another glance her way and answered the call.
* * *
Four hours into their ride-along, he drove them back to the station. This year, like every year, there was food for them since all the fast food places and most restaurants were closed. The shift on duty was taking turns with lunch breaks, so there were only a few other people in the meeting room where the food was. They followed the tempting smells the whole way down the hall. He grabbed a plate and handed one to Becca.
She took it with a faint smile. “Thanks. I’ll bet you’re hungry. It’s been really busy for Christmas Day.”
He grunted. “Too busy. Luckily it’s all been easy stuff so far. Later, we’re going to wind up with the drunks and the domestic cases.” He slid a glance her way. “You up for that?”
She raised a brow. “Have I ever not been?”
He almost laughed, but then he remembered and his stomach clenched. “No, but you’ve also never been—”
She cut him off with a dramatic slice of her hand through the air. “I’ve never backed out and I’m not going to now.”
God, he loved her feisty attitude. His anger—not at her, but at her slime of an ex—was still on a slow burn, but if she wanted to move forward, what right did he have to stop her? “Attagirl.”
“Damned straight.”
He grinned and put some shrimp on his plate, offering her some.
“No, thanks. I don’t eat shellfish.”
“Right, I forgot. The kosher thing.” He speared one with a fork and went to put it in his mouth. “Oh, what you’re missing.”
“Yeah, blowing up like a balloon. I don’t follow kosher dietary rules. What I am is allergic to most shellfish.”
Shit. He put the fork down and dumped the whole plate into the trash. “Well, in that case, I’ll skip it today.”
She frowned. “It’s fine if you want it. It’s only an issue if I eat it myself.”
He shook his head, pulled her out into a quiet hallway on the far side of the meeting room. He looked around, then backed her against the wall. He braced one hand beside her head and leaned close to her ear, crowding her personal space. “I don’t want to take any chances with your safety, Rebeccah. Have you figured it out yet? Do you know why I’ve always asked for you to be my ride-along?”
She tilted her head, blinked up at him, and he was sunk.
“Tell me if I’m off base here. If I am, I’ll back off right now and you can finish out your shift here at the station. But if I’m right, I need to know that. It’s been a long five years, Bec, wanting a woman I couldn’t have.”
“Jeremy, I—”
“Oh, excuse me.” It was a female voice, slightly breathless.
He swore under his breath and stepped back, nearly bumping into Matt Christianson and a young, pretty blonde he assumed was Becca’s friend Hannah. “No problem. We were just talking.” Fuck, could he sound any more like he was trying to cover up something he shouldn’t be doing? And the worst part was that it wasn’t a lie. All they’d been doing was talking.
Christianson snorted and raised his brow. “Yeah, know how that goes. Hannah and I were looking for a quiet place to, er...talk, too.”
Both Becca and Hannah started laughing, giggling really, breaking the awkward silence. He gave up and joined in. “Right. We all need to eat and get back on the road, anyway. Watch your back.” He slapped palms with Christianson, nodded politely to Hannah and escorted Becca back inside. Right before they stepped into the meeting room, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “We’ll finish our talk later, when we’re alone.”
* * *
Jeremy hadn’t been wrong. The second half of his shift was bat-shit crazy, and the first half hadn’t been a picnic. Maybe it was the unusually warm weather, but they’d been called to an inordinate amount of drunken brawls. And, an hour away from the end of his work day, they were here for a domestic disturbance in a house at the end of one seriously spooky lane.
Jeremy had ordered her, in no uncertain terms, not to leave the car. And also to be prepared to call for assistance if he needed it. She knew why, because these kinds of calls were the most volatile, but it made her stomach hurt. She could hear the screaming from here, and she sat in the car, hand hovering over the radio.
It was a long five minutes before another cruiser pulled in behind Jeremy’s. Thank God, because he’d been in there alone a long time by himself. It was an officer she’d seen in action last year, a woman who looked too petite to be able to handle anyone older than a middle school student, but she’d seen Officer Preston drop a mountain of a guy.
Becca gasped as the officer strode up the walk to the house and nearly got hit in the head, first with a flying toaster and then with a lamp. She sidestepped them both and spoke into her radio.
Becca could hear it in the car. “Request immediate backup at my current location. Subject is holding a baseball bat and threatening his wife. Kohler’s inside with them, but it looks like things are breaking down. No sirens.”
Her heart clenched. Please let him be safe. Please let him be safe. She repeated the mantra over again in her head as two other cars slid to a stop, lights flashing but sirens silent. She watched the other officers try to engage, heard the violent shouting coming from inside.
It was the longest twenty minutes of her life, but eventually Jeremy stalked out escorting a disheveled-looking man in handcuffs. The guy was still swearing and struggling, and Jeremy had a small scrape on his cheek.
Becca had seen Jeremy in action before and was always amazed at the relative calm he exuded. Oh, his jaw was tight and she could see the tension in his muscles, but he was professional and purposeful.
He opened the rear door of his cruiser and guided his prisoner in, making sure the guy didn’t hit his head. Then he came around her side of the car and drew her out, leading her away from the car. “I don’t want you sitting in there alone with him while I deal with the rest of this. He’s a nasty piece of work.”
She reached up and lightly touched his cheekbone. “What happened?”
He made a disgusted noise. “I forgot to duck and I got an elbow in the face. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, but it’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
She winced when the man in the car started screaming again. She turned her head, shocked to see a woman with a black eye being led out in handcuffs, too. “I don’t understand.”
Jeremy winced. “Yeah, that. She got violent with Preston when I cuffed her husband. I’m with you. I don’t understand it, I never have, but some women feel the need to protect their abuser.”
“I’d let him rot,” she muttered under her breath. “Serve him right.”
He grinned then, a quick slash of one that was devastating in its surprise appearance and blatant approval. “I do believe you would, Ms. Rickman. I do believe you would.” One of the other officers called his name. “C’mon, let’s get this finished.”
She walked over with him, happy to be away from the screaming man. She could still hear him, but it was less threatening with Jeremy by her side. Sam hadn’t been like that, but she wondered if that’s why Jeremy had pulled her out of the car. No, near the end of their marriage, when things were going really bad, Sam had been sneakier. He couched his disapproval in ways that made it sound like he was instructing her in the proper ways to be a good Jewish woman.
She was lost in her own thoughts when she realized Jeremy was
talking to her. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I have to take him to central booking. You can ride back with Preston and call it a day, or you can come with me.”
“With you,” she said, not hesitating. He’d thrown a curveball at her today, and she wanted a chance to explore it. She had no idea if he had plans for tonight, but she needed him to finish that conversation from the hallway. It had been so busy they hadn’t had the opportunity, and really, while he was working wasn’t the right time. Bottom line, she wanted whatever time with him she could get. “Ready when you are, partner.”
He grinned. “Rock and roll.”
* * *
Almost done, almost done, almost done. Another shift was coming on and he was about three hours past ready to be off work, especially since he had the next four days off. This was a Christmas for the books, not as traumatic as the one he’d shared with Becca three years ago, but busier than any other one had been, and busier than any Christmas had a right to be.
He dropped off his vehicle and stowed his personal gear in his locker in the garage. “I need to turn in my paperwork, change back into my street clothes, and then I’m clear.” Fuck, he knew what he wanted to say, so he just needed to spit it out. “I want you to wait for me.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Sure.”
He grinned, relief pumping through his veins. He was still dealing with the adrenaline rush from that call from hell, and he knew exactly how he’d like to re-channel it. “Ten minutes, max.” He left her in the squad room while he did the fastest turnover he’d ever done. In eight minutes, he was back and she was on her phone. He only caught the end of the conversation.
She snorted then laughed in the completely unrestrained way he’d grown to crave hearing. “You are so bad. I know, I know. If I can’t be good, be careful. Shouldn’t that be my line?” There was a long beat of silence, then a sigh. “I get it. I do. He took enough away from me, and I shouldn’t let him take any more.” She listened for a moment and then a sexy smile graced her lips. “Isn’t he, though? Okay. Later, Hannah.”