Sounds of a struggle came from above. Willy and Archer were fighting. I needed to stop them. “Willy,” I tried to say, grabbing the left side of my forehead. That’s when I felt something hot and wet running down my arm. Blood.
“Stop fighting!” I struggled to my feet and tried to push myself up the carpeted steps, dripping blood all the way.
Then the fighting stopped with a blast. A gunshot. I looked up to see Archer, chest heaving, gun pointed at Willy, who clutched his right arm.
“You cowardly shit!” Willy yelled. “You can’t even beat an old man fair and square, you pansy ass!”
Archer narrowed his eyes and raised the gun a little higher. “Archer, help!”
He took his eyes off Willy for a second and spun around to face me. That was when I saw it: a gold medallion hanging from a gold chain around his neck, and on that medallion was the symbol; a sword with a single snake curling up around it, trying to swallow the hilt. “What is that?” My voice sounded strange.
Archer tucked the chain back into his shirt and looked between me and Willy—who had stood up and was easing toward him. “I’ll kill you if you take one more step.”
I eased Pinky from her holster. From the top step, I could see all of him.
Feet spread apart. Steady.
Safety off. I clicked it off.
Arms raised. I raised them up, blood trickling down the side of my face, clouding my vision until I blinked it away.
Aim. I aimed. I was less than fifteen feet away. I just prayed I wouldn’t miss.
Breathe. I inhaled.
Squeezing the trigger, I felt the slight recoil and watched as Archer turned around, mouth agape, and then clutched his chest. “You shot me?” he asked incredulously.
“You shot Willy!”
“I love you, Brooklyn. Why did you do this?” Blood bubbled into his mouth and a red strand of drool eased down to the floor.
“I don’t know you! And I certainly don’t love you. You’ve been scaring me! Do you know how scared I was?”
My hands shook as I kept the gun aimed at him. From behind me, I heard a car door slam, footsteps climbing the steps, the storm door creaking open.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He might still try something.
When Colt’s hand eased mine down, he whispered, “It’s okay. Safety On. Gun Down.”
“Safety on, gun down.”
He nodded. “Good girl.” I eased the safety switch on and put Pinky in his outstretched hand.
Archer dropped to the floor. Colt radioed for an ambulance and yelled for Dalton to hurry his ass up.
I sat down on the top step and waited. If Archer was dead, I’d probably be a felon now.
***
Dalton pulled up with his lights flashing and a shrill scream came from outside. He had brought Morgan with him.
The medics were next. The first responders tried to fuss over my head, but I pointed them toward Willy and Archer.
They swarmed Archer, yelling all sorts of nonsensical jargon around. Morgan’s hands found mine and she pulled me in for a hug before walking outside with me. I needed air. I didn’t even realize I’d voiced it.
“You’re okay? You’re really okay?”
I nodded, wincing from the movement because my head felt like the Globe Trotters’ basketball. Tears fell from her eyes.
“My father is coming, too. He wants to see Archer.”
“I think I killed him,” I whispered, sitting on the lawn, hugging my knees. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him to leave Willy alone. He was going to kill Willy.”
She hugged me tightly. “I know. I think he’s still alive, but if my father has his way, he won’t be for long. Shane and Riley should be here in a couple of hours, too.”
Shane was probably going to kill me because I put his wife in danger. She clutched her stomach protectively.
“Wait,” I sniffed. “Are you pregnant?”
She nodded. “I took a test this morning.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
She smiled. “I wanted to tell Shane first.” Of course she did. I didn’t blame her. My heart was going to explode for her. This was what she wanted, what they wanted; a family. “Can I be Aunt Brooklyn?”
“Duh,” she replied, nudging me. I grabbed my head. “Sorry. I keep forgetting.” I could totally see how that was possible, what with the blood still actively flowing from the cut; carving macabre, crimson rivers down my skin.
***
The paramedics were nice. One man held gauze tightly to my head and then wrapped my head with a few layers to keep the bandage locked in place. His partner, a woman, took my vitals and helped me onto the gurney. They strapped me down and loaded me into the back of the ambulance. Morgan refused to leave my side. “I’m family. She’s my sister,” she told them. It was true—basically. Friends were the family you chose, right? I think I read that somewhere.
I wanted Morgan there with me because inside, I was freaking out. Did I kill Archer? As sick as it sounded, I didn’t want him to die. I just wanted him to stop—stop aiming the gun at Willy, stop harassing me, stop scaring me, stop loving me.
I think in some twisted way, he believed he actually did. Love me, that is.
The ambulance roared to life and Sin held my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Tears dripped from my eyes. “My head.”
It was going to explode.
“We’ll be there soon, sweetie.”
“Where’s the hospital?”
“Roseburg has a small one. We’re taking you there.”
“’kay.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and replayed the scene over and over. The only comfort I found was in Colt’s warm hand as he helped me not shoot Archer again. I might have done it otherwise.
People snapped all the time, right?
I cried. My head. Archer. I wanted Colt with me.
Morgan squeezed my hand. “It’ll be okay.”
No. It wouldn’t be okay.
Everything was fucked up.
Chief showed up after the medics patched Willy up. He wanted Brooklyn on an ambulance but they had to take Archer Jennings away first. He was critical. I’d be surprised if he made it. She actually shot him! Brooklyn did just as I taught her. Of course, I saw the terror in her eyes when she realized she’d actually pulled the trigger and her bullet connected with its target. She flinched when Jennings fell to the ground.
“Dalton!” Chief barked. “Get a statement from Willy and then high-tail it to the hospital. I want a statement from Ms. Harris as soon as she’s able to give one. I want one from the intruder if he makes it.”
“On it, Chief.” Dalton went to work and I huffed. I could have handled getting Willy’s statement. Willy just chuckled beside me.
“Your daddy ain’t gonna let you work this one, Boss Man. You’re too close to the case.”
I was and I knew it, but I wanted to bring that fucker down for hurting him, for scaring Brooklyn all this time, and for trying to take her.
My dad, the Chief of the Swift Rapids Police Department, walked over to us and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You did good, son.”
“I didn’t get here in time.”
He looked Willy over. “Looks like you got here right on time.” He paused and lit a cigarette.
“Those things are gonna kill you,” I told him, like I had the last thousand times.
He grinned. “Something’s gonna do it. Might as well be this.” Dad let out a huge puff of smoke and told me to go home.
“Not happening.”
“You like this one?”
I nodded.
Dad smiled and ticked his head. “Then go get her.”
I didn’t waste any time. Dad would see to Willy. I needed to know Brooklyn was okay.
***
At the hospital, the waiting room was teeming with people; one hacking up his lungs, a woman whose foot was wrapped in a bloody bandage, and one woman with a child laying across her lap. The receptionist s
lid the window open. “Are you here to be seen?”
“No, ma’am. I need to see Brooklyn Harris.”
“I’ll buzz you in.”
Walking to the door on the side of her office, I heard the buzzer and the lock disengaged. I stepped inside and the woman, dressed in blue scrubs, waved for me to follow her. “Curtain three.”
She peeked her head in and then huffed, looking at the chart outside the small room. “She’s having a CT scan, but she’ll be back soon if you want to wait.”
“I do.”
“Chairs are there.” She pulled the curtains back and revealed the tiled floor where the bed should be, two small chairs huddled in between machinery, and a small counter with a sink.
I waited. Dalton was around there somewhere, but I wanted to see her. I had to know she would be okay. Head wounds weren’t new to me, and I knew they bled like crazy, but seeing Brooklyn bleed was almost more than I could take. I hated it. Where was Morgan? She must have gone with her.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Then twenty-two. Then twenty-three. Finally, I heard the sound of wheels approaching and footsteps. A tall male nurse was shamelessly flirting with Morgan and Brooklyn as he eased her into the room and pulled the bed backward into place.
When Brooklyn saw me, she stared and she didn’t stop staring. Morgan’s phone chirped with a text. I gave her a you’re-not-supposed-to-have-phones-back-here look and she giggled before telling us both she’d be right back.
The nurse high-tailed it out of there and Brooklyn watched me approach the bedside. “Sit with me,” she softly pleaded.
I eased onto the side of the mattress and looked at her. “You okay?”
She smiled. “You’re always asking me that.”
“Because I’m always wondering that.”
“I won’t break, C.”
“Not so sure about that, babe.”
“Do you call all the girls with head wounds, ‘babe’?”
I laughed. “Just the pretty ones.” My hand found her cheek and stroked it softly, making her sigh.
“You high?”
“Yeah. But it’s legal, officer.”
Two knocks on the wall beside the curtain revealed Dalton. He nodded for me to come out into the hallway. “Be right back,” I whispered. Brooklyn’s eyes were closed and she looked like she might be asleep.
I stepped outside and saw Dalton’s clenched jaw. “He’s alive. He’ll make it, they think.”
The fucker would live. I was glad for B’s sake, but pissed all the same. He’d have the opportunity to start messing with her again. I couldn’t allow that shit.
Dalton clapped my back. “It’ll be okay, man.”
“I know.”
He nodded toward B. “She’s tough. She can handle it. I’m not sure she could have handled knowing she killed a man, though.”
It was true. “Willy here yet?”
Dalton nodded. “Curtain twelve. He’s in heaven. Older lady nurse tending to him. Every time she bends down, he tries to feel her up. Dirty old man.”
I laughed. “He’s awful, but harmless.”
“Nah, she loves it! I think she’s doing it on purpose. Who knew old people were so horny and . . . active in that area.”
“You think we won’t be just like him?”
Dalton scoffed. “We’ll be worse.”
“Damn right.”
He raised his eyebrows. “If you ever manage to get your balls back from that hellcat.”
I laughed. “Brother, what if I told you I didn’t want ‘em back?”
“I’d say, no surprise there. No surprise.” He grinned at me and then ticked his head down the hall. “Gotta watch these two losers.”
“Babysitting duty.”
“I know you’re jealous,” he teased. “I’ll run Willy home when they release him. That is, if the nurse doesn’t decide home care is required.”
***
Six stitches at Brooklyn’s hairline on the left side of her face may have stopped the bleeding, but it didn’t stop the concussion. The fall jarred her brain and to be cautious, they needed to keep her overnight for observation.
Morgan showed back up after Dalton left with none other than Shane “The Judge” Justice, best MMA fighter in the U.S. of A and arguably the world.
His best friend, Riley, who’d been trying to help B, was with him. I didn’t miss the way Riley looked at Brooklyn’s broken body. He either wanted her (no surprise there) or was upset he wasn’t able to do more to help her (feeling was mutual). I told Morgan to take Shane and Riley back to B’s for the night. I was staying with her and it wasn’t up for discussion.
The three of them left while Brooklyn slept. The nurse moved her into a regular room and I was able to stretch out on the reclining sofa. The night nurse snuck me a tray of food and disappeared with a wink. It was amazing how everyone in the community showed their appreciation of our work. We tried to keep them safe and uphold the law, and when we were down, they lifted us up. Who could ask for more than that?
The next afternoon, B was cleared to go home. She listened to the nurse’s discharge instructions and signed where they told her to sign. Still in my uniform from the previous day, I helped her into my cruiser and drove twenty minutes home. Brooklyn was silent.
“Your head hurting?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry,” I said quietly.
I knew her head probably did hurt, but my heart did, too. She was pulling away. She’d be leaving soon and was trying to make it easier on both of us.
“I just want to say one thing and then I’ll leave you alone.” That got her attention. Those big brown eyes latched onto mine. “I’m not gonna make it easy for you to leave me.”
She swallowed and tears welled up in her eyes. I was an asshole for even bringing it up, but it was out there now; an invisible tether from her heart to mine.
It had been two weeks since that afternoon, two weeks since I shot a man, two weeks since Colt said he wouldn’t make leaving easy for me. And he was nothing if not a man of his word. Every evening, he made a picnic dinner—just for me and him. Every morning, he came over to kiss me and tell me he’d see me after his shift.
Morgan, Shane, and Riley left for New York at my insistence. The deadline was in two days and Morgan still had to get the prints and take them to the studio. With Jennings in prison and awaiting trial, there was no reason for Shane and Riley to stay. His bail was denied. He wasn’t going anywhere for a very long time.
Besides, after she told Shane the news of their baby bun in the oven, he was hell to live with. He doted on her constantly, not even allowing her to pull her chair out for meals. I was waiting for him to chew her food up and spit it into her mouth like a bird to its baby. Eww.
Truthfully, I was glad to be alone. I needed time to process. Two days. Two more days and I was flying back to Vegas.
My headaches wouldn’t stop and I was going to follow up with a doctor there, but had been cleared to travel. I decided to lay down in the dark for another nap.
***
Knocks at the front door woke me up. I padded down the hallway, down the steps, and opened the door. Colt stood there with a smile. In his cargo pants and tight white t-shirt, he looked edible.
He raised a bag. “Dinnertime, B.”
My mouth watered as the scent of hamburgers and fries wafted to my nostrils. “Lyra’s?”
“Um-hmm.”
I moaned, leaning close to his lips, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. Snatching the bag out of his hand, I skipped up the steps to the kitchen. “That was mean,” he yelled from behind me.
“Meh! You love me.”
I froze. I should not have said that. It was going to be awkward when he walked in here for dinner. Reaching for two plates, I felt his hands clasp my waist. I steadied myself with the counter’s edge.
Warm breath fanned my ear. “I do care about you.”
He did. He’d proven that much lately.
“I
care about you, too.”
“How hungry are you?” he asked, nipping at the tender flesh of my neck. My core clenched at the rasp.
I turned around in his arms and waited until his eyes collided with mine. “Starving.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
We’d had this conversation every night since I told him that I’d booked a flight to Vegas. And every night I told him the same thing: I had to.
“You know why.”
“I don’t,” he answered. I started to interrupt him, but he silenced me with a kiss. “But a promise is a promise. I won’t make it easy for you to walk away from me.”
Reaching to the back of my thighs, he lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom. He eased me gently onto the soft mattress, hovering over me, blanketing me with warmth and “care”, as he called it. I called it love. I loved him.
“Because you care?” I teased.
He growled, burning a pathway from the hollow of my throat down my chest. I raised up and let him tug my tank top off. He deftly unclasped my bra and I let the delicate lace fall down my arms, reveling in his gasp of appreciation.
I raked my nails up his abs and chest and tugged his shirt over his head. The man needed to be shirtless at all times, I decided. My back didn’t even hit the mattress before his mouth was on my breast, tugging and gently biting at the taut peak of my nipple. But he was nothing if not fair. He released it with a pop and showed her twin the same attention, making me a mewling, needy mess.
The thighs he parted with his knee quaked beneath him. “You’re shaking. You okay?” He sat up and looked me over.
“I will be if you stop worrying and give me what I want,” I growled.
A satisfied smile stretched over his lips and he lowered himself down, where I felt his erection right where I needed it most. “What’s that, B?”
I reached into the waistband of his shorts and he let out a hiss. Who’s your mama, big guy? My fist curled around the silken steel and pumped for a few strokes.
“Pants fucking off. Now!” he roared, stepping back and ripping them down my legs. He missed the edges of my panties and apparently that pissed him off, because he grabbed the sides and tore them off my body. Ripping fabric was now my second favorite sound. My first was his growl.
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