Terms of Engagement

by Kylie Brant

  “What happened?” The words were out of Lindsay’s mouth before she could stop them.

  “He was injured in that explosion at the Metrodome a few months ago,” Jolie informed her, her gaze still on Jack. There was a slight furrow between her eyes that indicated Jack hadn’t completely alleviated her concern.

  “Hurt my leg, but it’s healed.” Jack picked up one of the sadly wrinkled drink umbrellas from the table in front of him and reached over to tuck it in Lindsay’s hair. “Nothing to worry about. But if you’d like to kiss it better, I could be persuaded to drop my Santa britches and show you the wound on my thigh.”

  The dare in his words was reflected by that wicked glint in his eye. The invitation should have sounded sleazy. But somewhere along the line, probably by grade school, he’d mastered the art of delivering a line with enough humor to engage rather than repel.

  Lindsay definitely did not want to find him engaging.

  “I’m going to say thanks…but no,” she drawled, eliciting laughter from Dace and Jolie. She couldn’t prevent a smile at the crestfallen expression Jack affected. He might be—how had Jolie described him?—something of a player, but at least he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. Relaxing a bit, she took another sip of beer. There were worse ways to spend an evening than chatting with friends with a half-naked hunk by her side.

  Since looking was about all the action she allowed herself these days, what was the harm in treating herself to a little eye candy for the next couple hours?

  Two hours and two beers later, Lindsay had the belated answer to that question.

  Harm was an abstract concept.

  The time spent in his company had only fanned her slumbering hormones to an unwelcome simmer, which was definitely a waste, because there was no way she was going to indulge them. It would have been simpler if she could dismiss Jack as just another good-looking guy with a smooth line and easy banter. But the affection Jolie and Dace had for him was evident. And he was amusing, whether trading good-natured barbs with Dace or directing humorous asides to her.

  It was almost enough to lull her well-honed instincts into believing Jack Langley was harmless, and that would have been a mistake. Lindsay was perceptive enough to see the toughness beneath the charm and smart enough to steer clear of both.

  To distract herself from the stab of regret that thought brought, she focused on her friends across the table. Jolie was as guarded as Lindsay was herself, which was why it had taken weeks after their initial meeting outside the restaurant for Lindsay to learn the woman’s occupation. By then it had been too late for that inner shrill of alarm. They’d been solidly on the way to becoming friends. Jolie had told Lindsay enough about her and Dace’s past to make Lindsay doubly happy for the plans they were making for their future. The thought of not being around for their wedding this spring brought a pang, but there was always the possibility that she could come back for it.

  Panic stabbed through her at the errant thought. Once she moved on, she never went back. Not ever. She didn’t use the same identity twice or even stay in the same state. Doing the unexpected had kept her alive this long. She couldn’t alter her strategy now.

  Troubled, she rubbed at the condensation on the bottle with her thumb. This was why it was best to have no lasting relationships. Ties elicited emotion. Emotion fogged logic. Made it difficult to leave and start over.

  But starting over had long since lost the appeal it had once held.

  “Jolie says you’re a cook at Piper’s.” Jack’s husky baritone sounded in her ear. “Maybe you’d like to go out somewhere you can order a meal you don’t have to prepare.” At her silence, he lifted a lazy black brow. “I’ll wear a shirt, I promise. And I do have clothes that aren’t red and trimmed with fur.”

  “For the department’s sake, that’s good to know.” She met his gaze, far more tempted than she should have been. “But I don’t think so.”

  He studied her. “Still holding that Barbie–G.I. Joe screwup against me? I can make that up to you this Christmas. I won’t let the elves near the package this time. Promise.”

  Her lips curved. He was far too likable for his own good. “I’m not going to sleep with you.” Her hormones sent up a disappointed chorus. But she didn’t make decisions based on her hormones these days, so they were easily ignored. Mostly. “And I’m not your type, anyway.”

  “What type do you think that is?”

  “The type that will sleep with you.”

  He grinned, a quick flash of white teeth. “And if I reserve the right to try and change your mind about that?”

  “Then you’ll be wasting both our time.” With more regret than she cared to show, she stood. “Will you excuse me for a few minutes?” Without waiting for a response, she picked up her purse and wound her way through the full tables to the restroom at the back of the bar. She fully expected Jack to be gone when she returned to the table. He didn’t strike her as the type of guy to hang around after a rejection.

  And she’d been issuing rejections for far too long for this one to be causing her so much regret.

  But even though she lingered in the restroom far longer than necessary, Jack was still seated at their table when Lindsay came out. Seeing him, she stopped, indecisive. Maybe he needed a little more time to grow bored and move on. As if in response to her thoughts, a woman wearing what looked to be the top of Jack’s Santa outfit sauntered over to him and draped an arm around his neck, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth.

  Saved by the Santa slut. Turning, she made her way for the back door, intent on delaying her return to the table a bit longer. Give him the amount of time it took to get a breath of fresh air, and he’d be gone. She’d lay odds on it.

  And she was suddenly desperately in need of fresh air.

  Moments later she was standing outside in the shadows. After the press of bodies in the bar the solitude was a welcome reprieve.

  Resting her shoulders against the back of the building, she tipped her head back and studied the star-studded sky. She’d always liked looking at the stars. Maybe when she left she’d head to Wyoming. With the wide-open spaces there, the expanse of sky would be magnificent.

  But wait. Wyoming didn’t have many big cities. She always felt safer in cities. More anonymous. It was easier to blend in and escape notice.

  It was imperative that Lindsay escape notice.

  The door swung open and she turned her head, instantly wary. A couple stumbled out the door, laughing breathlessly. She opened her mouth to alert them to her presence, but at that moment the man pulled the woman into his arms and they exchanged a long, heated kiss.

  Great. She jerked her gaze away. Playing voyeur to an alcohol-fueled couple with loosened inhibitions was definitely not what she’d had in mind when she’d slipped outside. She began to inch away, intent on returning to the bar.

  “No.” The woman’s voice was still laughing. Lindsay moved a little faster, still hoping to escape detection. Then a moment later, “No, Rick. Stop it. I said—”

  There was the unmistakable sound of a slap and a cry of pain. Lindsay jerked around to peer through the darkness.

  “Bitch.” The two were scuffling now, the woman struggling to get away. “Think you can tease me all night and not come through when we’re alone?”

  “I wasn’t teasing—”

  “Well you aren’t now, because you’re going to…”

  “Let her go.” Fury snapped through Lindsay’s veins, fogging good sense. She strode toward the couple, grabbed the man’s shoulder. “She said no.”

  With a suddenness that took her off guard, he turned around and gave her a shove that sent her sprawling. “Get lost, bitch. Unless you want to be next. Believe me, I got plenty here to satisfy both of you.”

  The other woman screamed as the man hauled her against him, moving her deeper into the shadows. His mouth ground over hers, halting her protests.

  Lindsay picked herself up and stumbled to the back door again, int
ent on getting help. If she didn’t hurry, the couple could be gone by the time she got back. If he had a car or a place nearby, no one would catch him in time.

  She rushed inside, the barrage of sound from the bar blasting her anew. The crowd seemed to have gotten thicker. She tried to squeeze through, her actions frantic, but made little headway.

  An idea occurred and she pulled out her cell phone. She could call Jolie even faster and alert her to bring help, while she went out again and—

  A hand touched her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Jack stood next to her, his figure solid and reassuring. He bent his head, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard over the din. “Where have you been? Jolie was getting worried.”

  “A woman needs help outside.”

  He shook his head, an expression of puzzlement on his face. The jukebox was blaring out the latest Dixie Chicks tune at ear-deafening levels. “What?”

  “Come with me!” He may not have understood her words, but he couldn’t misunderstand her hand on his arm, tugging him in her wake.

  Bursting outside again, she halted, scanning the area. Her stomach plummeted when she didn’t see anyone in the vicinity. “I don’t see them.”

  “What, my reindeer? I have them parked out front.”

  Lindsay headed deeper into the alley, calling over her shoulder, “There was a man out here trying to force himself on a woman. When I tried to stop him he shoved me down. I’m afraid he might have taken her somewhere no one will find them.”

  “He touched you?” Jack’s tone changed from affable to threatening with a swiftness that might have alarmed her if she weren’t already so distracted. “What’d he look like?”

  But Lindsay was running ahead, the pain in her knees from the scrapes she’d gotten barely registering. The alley ended in a T. She rounded the corner to her right. If it hadn’t been for the sound of the woman’s muffled sobs, she would have missed the couple hidden in a doorway.

  She hefted her purse as she ran toward them. The two rolls of quarters she always carried in it seemed woefully inadequate. But they were all she had since she’d left her gun back at the apartment.

  “You like games, Sheila?” She could barely make out the man’s panted words. He had a forearm across the woman’s throat, his free hand pulling up her skirt. “Let’s play some games.”

  His choice of words arrowed deep into her subconscious. Summoned an echo of a voice she’d thought buried for good. You think this is a game? Well, maybe it is. But it isn’t one you’re going to win.

  A quick shudder snaked down Lindsay’s spine as she shook off the memory. She closed the distance between them at a run. The man looked over his shoulder, a snarl on his lips when he saw Lindsay. She swung her purse with all her might and nailed him squarely in the face.

  There was a sickening crack. He howled, cursing, turning around to make a grab for her. She felt her shirt rip and struggled wildly to free herself, but he maintained his grasp. When he hit the ground, so did she.

  He was on her in an instant, flipping her over and rolling atop her. She raised her knee up sharply into his crotch, her fingernails going for his face, heard him yelp.

  “Goddammit!” He reared an arm back and struck her across the cheek with enough force to send lights wheeling beneath her eyelids. A moment later, he was gone.

  Dazed, she tried to sit, the movement making her nauseous. She became dimly aware of the sounds around her. Grunts and curses. A soft sobbing. The instantly recognizable sound of flesh hitting flesh.

  Without grace she stood up, swaying. It was a moment before she could stagger over to the woman—Sheila—who was huddled in the doorway. Lindsay went on her knees next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s over.”

  She craned her neck to see what was happening several yards away. Jack had the man against the wall and was hammering him with methodical punishing blows.

  A moment later she realized the stranger’s struggles had grown feeble, and she left the woman’s side to lurch across the distance and grab Jack’s arm. “Stop.”

  She could feel the ice-cold fury emanating from him. The iron muscles in his arm quivered like a racehorse at the starting gate. “Jack,” she said softly. Something in her voice must have reached him and he looked at her. She watched the sheen of rage slowly dissipate from his eyes, and then he released the man, who crumpled in a heap.

  “You’re bleeding,” he observed tersely, his gaze raking her form.

  Surprised, she looked down. Her shirt was in tatters, and there was blood soaking it. She gathered the remnants of the garment around her. “It’s not mine.”

  He reached out a finger and tipped her chin up so he could study her. Whatever he saw in her face must have reassured him, because something in his expression eased. He looked past her then. “Give Jolie or Dace a call. Get them out here.” He walked by her to go to the aid of the woman who was even now struggling to her feet. “And if that scumbag back there so much as moves, let me know.”

  With shaking fingers, Lindsay punched in Jolie’s number, relayed Jack’s message and interrupted her friend’s questions with a terse, “Just get out here. Bring Dace.”

  When she glanced his way, Jack looked like he had things under control with Sheila, so Lindsay edged nearer the man, who had risen to a sitting position, both hands clapped over his face.

  “You broke my damn nose, you freaking whore.” His voice was muffled. “My lawyer will sue your ass. You’ll pay for butting into something that’s none of your business. Langley, too.”

  “You got off easy,” she responded bluntly. “And your lawyer is going to be too busy defending you from attempted rape and assault charges to worry about me.” Hearing the sounds of footsteps running toward them, she turned to see Dace turn the corner into the alley, Jolie and a woman she didn’t recognize on his heels.

  Relief coursed through her. “Look, it’s the cavalry.”

  Dace stopped at her side while the two women continued down the alley to help Jack with the injured woman. Hauling the man up by one arm, Dace growled, “What the hell have you been up to now, Fallon?”

  “Me?” Fallon’s voice would have sounded indignant if he weren’t speaking through a broken nose. “Sheila and I came out for a few minutes of privacy and the next thing I know that bitch over there is jumping me. And then Langley gets into the act. You tell him I’m pressing assault charges.”

  “Tell him yourself.” Dace gave him a little push. “I’m parked in front. Let’s go downtown.”

  “I need a doctor!” Fallon protested.

  “Ava and I will take Sheila to the hospital.” Jolie strode up, eyes hard. “I’ll get her statement there, then meet you at the precinct.”

  Dace nodded then led the man away. Jolie and Lindsay returned to where Jack was waiting with Sheila and Ava. Quickly Jolie introduced Lindsay to Ava, who was another member of their SWAT squad.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Sheila said shakily to Lindsay when the introductions were over. “If you hadn’t been there he would have raped me. I never wanted…I told him no….”

  “And I heard you. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Jack, see Lindsay home, will you?” Jolie’s next words halted both their protests. “Sheila will be more comfortable with Ava and me right now than you. And I don’t want Lindsay to be alone.”

  Sliding a glance to Lindsay, Jack nodded. “All right. We’ll be downtown as soon as she gets changed.”

  The adrenaline had faded, leaving Lindsay feeling sapped and spent. She hugged her arms tight around her body and willed her knees to remain locked to support her increasingly wobbly legs. She was only half-aware that Jolie, Ava and Sheila had gone when Jack approached her again.

  She strove to straighten when he surveyed her critically.

  “You must have gotten a few good swings in.”

  Her entire body began shaking. “I can’t take credit for that. You’re the one who stopped him.�
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  “You’re in shock.” He hauled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I’m not.” She wasn’t weak. She despised weakness. But she couldn’t will away the shudders racing up and down her body.

  “Okay, maybe you’re cold.” Knowing that he was merely humoring her didn’t make her feel any better. “And me without a shirt to offer you.”

  For a moment, just a moment, Lindsay allowed herself to lean against him. His skin was hot despite the chilly air. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her ear, the steady sound comforting. For the briefest of moments, she felt completely, totally safe.

  The sensation was foreign enough to have her stepping out of his arms. If she’d learned anything in the last three years, it was that she couldn’t depend on anyone else to protect her.

  She liked her chances better on her own.

  Avoiding his gaze, she folded the remains of her shirt around herself and held it in place by crossing her arms over her chest. “Since I’m not feeling particularly festive anymore, I’ll think I’ll head home.”

  “Good idea. I know that lowlife’s name. Rick Fallon. He’s a dispatcher from the Eighth Precinct, I think. We’ll get you cleaned up, then we’ll join Dace downtown. Your statement will help support Sheila’s. Fallon will try to claim that what was going on out here was consensual.”

  “No!” The strength of her protest surprised them both. Working to keep the panic from her voice, she forced an even tone. “I wouldn’t be much help. I didn’t see a lot.” Making statements would require ID, wouldn’t it? ID that couldn’t stand up to close scrutiny.

  He frowned, studying her carefully. But rather than pushing harder, he just said mildly, “Let’s just worry about you right now. Maybe we should have a doctor check you out.”

  “I just need to go home.” Bending down, she tried to pick up the contents of her purse, which had spilled out sometime during the altercation. It was slow going, since she couldn’t let go of her shirt.