by Jacki Renée
Sandwiching my phone between my shoulder and ear, I draw my weapon, put the safety on and holster it again.
I tap the back window.
Kourt’s lying on the backseat. She looks up and my heart drops. Her fear punctures me in the gut. I’m doing a piss-poor job of protecting them.
“Unlock the doors, Kourt,” I say into the phone. “I’ll take the blame.”
The car alarm deactivates. I open the door. She jumps into my arms and buries her face in my neck.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
Her body shakes. I can feel her rapid heartbeat against my chest.
Major Ricci comes toward us, his face serious.
I put Kourtney on her feet and spot a pair of ear buds on the floor of the truck. “Listen to music while I talk to Uncle Vinny.” Quickly plugging her ears, I connect the cord to my phone, press the kid’s music app, and turn up the volume. I keep an arm around her.
“The intruder parked three blocks down, near the park, and dropped this.” He holds up a picture of Danielle and Edwards on their wedding day. “Corporal Dial’s body was found by the Sweepers.”
“Danielle?” I ask.
“Unconscious in the apartment.”
Fuck! The move from Arizona was clean. I personally made sure of it. I sent decoys to Oklahoma and Nevada. And I planted fake, searchable information on the internet linking her to Tennessee and North Carolina.
I scan the area again. This time I spot my shadow parking where she thinks she can’t be seen.
“I want a conference call with Captain Valentine and Major Chen, tonight. Interview the Watcher on duty.”
I pass Kourtney to him. She pulls away, leaping back into my arms, snatching out the ear buds. “Baby girl, I need to help mom. Go with Uncle Vinny, please.”
She shakes her head, burying her face in my neck again. “I’ll stay in the truck and wait for you guys.”
“I need to know you’re safe. I can’t help your mom and worry about you, too. Please go with Vin.” I nod for him to take her.
She screams and fights against him, landing a solid heel kick in his upper thigh. He shifts his legs to block the heel headed toward his package and adjusts his hold on her to keep from getting put out of commission.
“Take her to my house. Have Summers tail you. Stay until I get there,” I yell over Kourtney’s screams of protest.
Running to the apartment building, I step over scattered shopping bags and stuff as I climb the stairs.
Phantom Security Team, dressed in Sheriff Deputy uniforms, aim flashlights toward Kourtney’s room.
Paul is bent over a motionless Danielle. I drop to my knees beside her.
“Is she okay?” I ask. She’s on her stomach with one arm tucked underneath.
“She’s breathing. No visual head trauma. And I don’t see blood. I called Acosta.”
I look up at the two corporals. “Why aren’t the lights on?”
“All the light bulbs have been removed,” Ramirez replies.
I take the flashlight from the corporal and use it to find my way to the kitchen. Pulling out my handkerchief, I open the drawer where I know the spare light bulbs are kept.
“Is she still unresponsive?” Major Ignacio Acosta walks through the door carrying a medical kit.
I screw in a bulb and turn on the lamp closest to where Danielle lies on the carpet.
“Sir, look at this.” Corporal Ramirez points to a cloth on the floor just inside the door.
Paul stands, pulling a pen out of his shirt pocket and using it to pick up the cloth.
Acosta examines Danielle.
“Chloroform.” Paul sniffs the cloth again.
“She put up a fight,” Acosta says, pointing to her hand. He’s turned Danielle onto her back. Her fist is full of blond hair.
I grab an evidence kit from Acosta’s bag.
“Where’s Kourtney?” Acosta asks, as he continues to examine Danielle.
“Ricci’s taking her to my house. I checked her; she’s fine.”
“Corporal Dial is dead.” Paul puts on gloves and opens a small plastic bag for me.
I drop hair samples inside. “He left his post before calling it in. I want to know why.”
“I’ll have Sweepers in here after you guys leave.” Paul seals the bag and opens another.
“Put Porter on Danielle’s detail.” I swab underneath her fingernails.
“Roger that, Colonel.” Paul seals the bag after I drop the cotton swab inside.
I run a lint roller up and down her body and drop it in the bag Paul is holding open.
Acosta takes out an ammonia capsule. “Are you moving her again?”
I shake my head. “We’ll view the footage from the cameras later, but until we know who was in here, Dani and Kourt are staying with me. I’m sending you two on a recon mission in North Carolina. Riley will contact you with the details. Ricci and I will pull double duty with Delta Team as backup. Debrief when you get back.”
Paul collects the evidence bags and drops them in Acosta’s medical bag. I lift Danielle off the floor, carrying her to the sofa. Acosta cracks open the capsule and waves it under her nose.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The strong smell of ammonia burns my nose. Turning my head away from the offending scent, I open my eyes.
“What the hell were you thinking, coming in here with a damn baseball bat, Danielle?” Bryan shouts.
He called me Danielle. He’s mad.
I’m on the sofa in Bryan’s arms, and he’s visibly trying to curb his anger.
“Is Kourtney okay?” I ask.
“Why didn’t you wait in the truck with her? Or just drive straight to my house?”
“Where is she?” I try to sit up. He pins me with his arms.
“She’s fine. Vin’s taking her to my house.” He cups my cheek in the palm of his hand. “You have me now. And my friends. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”
I glance at the people crowding my tiny living room. Anthony in his uniform and two deputies standing beside him. Ignacio’s still wearing hospital scrubs.
I sigh in defeat.
“Danielle, I need to take a report. Are you up for that?” Anthony perches on the love seat, pulling a black leather notepad and pen from his breast pocket. The radio attached to his vest crackles. He lowers the volume.
Nodding, I slide off Bryan’s lap and hold his hand. I try not to look around at the mess in my living room that Ernesto is photographing.
Ignacio hands me a glass of cold water and says he’ll be back.
I take small sips while Anthony’s pen moves over the paper of the notepad. I try to give as much detail as I can remember.
When Ignacio returns, he’s carrying the shopping bags I dropped and a brown paper bag from a twenty-four-hour pharmacy store. I watch him unload packs of light bulbs. Bryan tells him where the step stool is stored.
Ignacio restores light in the living room first, then the kitchen and dining room. He takes the step stool and light bulbs down the hallway, the deputy following him.
Okay, I admit to myself, I took a thoughtless risk. But in my defense, I’ve been independent for far too long. Sitting back waiting for someone to come to my rescue was a thing of the past the minute my foster father put a pair of boxing gloves on my hands. My independence was a constant thorn in James’s side.
Anthony rises from his seat. He’s finished questioning me. They leave my apartment.
I walk around the living room. My foot kicks a broken picture frame. I bend and pick it up off the floor. It’s a picture of me holding Kourtney the day I brought her home from the hospital. The sight becomes blurry.
Bryan wraps his arms around me, letting me cry. Sobs make my body convulse.
I feel vulnerable. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.
I feel violated. Something I’ve never felt.
I feel safe wrapped in Bryan’s arms. Something I’ve been combatting since our paths crossed in that classroom. And I
’m tired of denying how much I’ve yearned for him to comfort me.
“Come back to my house. I want you guys to stay with us for a while. We’ll come back tomorrow, clean up, and make a list of what’s missing.”
My shoulders drop as I walk to my room. I scrummage through the mess and find a change of clothes to pack, then go across the hall to Kourtney’s room. The intruder didn’t touch her room, which brings me some peace of mind.
Bryan waits for me in the living room. The whispered fury in his voice lets me know the person on the other end of that phone call is being chewed out. He disconnects the call when I walk into the room and takes the bags from me. I follow him out the door. He locks it behind us.
Bryan leads the way. His head moves left to right like he’s looking for someone. The neighborhood is quiet except for the bark of a few dogs and a car pulling into the carport across the street. A handful of neighbors stand in the walkway of their apartment building staring our way.
I point to the Christmas tree tied to the roof of my truck. “What should I do with that?”
Bryan opens the back door of my truck. “We’ll find somewhere for it.” He tosses the bags onto the seat. “I’ll follow you.” He’s frowning. Something is troubling him.
I rise on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “You look good in glasses.”
He wraps his arms around my shoulders. Although he chuckles, his body remains rigid.
I embrace him. “Thank you for coming to our rescue.”
His lips peck the crown of my head.
Something hard presses into my arm. “What’s this?” I step back and lift his right arm. The black holster and the back end a gun illuminate the seriousness of my actions tonight. I take in his appearance. “Why are you carrying a gun?”
“It’s late. Let’s go.” He hands me the keys to my truck.
I take a page from his book and raise an eyebrow. An unspoken question.
“I’ll do whatever I have to—to protect you and Kourt.” He holds the door open for me to get in. Discussion over.
In the rearview mirror, my eyes follow him to a shiny Camaro. He has the Suburban, the Silverado, and a Camaro. Bryan must have a thing for Chevy.
We drive down the street, leaving the looky-loos behind. The Camaro’s headlights shine bright in my rearview mirror. He stays on my bumper the entire drive to his house.
I go straight inside and let him and Willis worry about the tree.
I head upstairs to check on my daughter.
Kourtney’s on her side with her arms around the pillow. Eyes puffy and nose red. We’ll talk about what happened in the morning. I kiss her cheek, lay Mr. Cuddles by her side, turn off the lamp, and leave her bag on the dresser on my way out the door.
Across the hall I check on Emma.
Her lamp is still on too. She fell asleep with a book in her hand. I mark the page and set the book on the nightstand. I kiss her cheek too.
My feet drag as I shuffle to the other side of the house. Bryan is pacing the floor with his phone in his hand when I walk through the open door. He set my overnight bag on the foot of the bed.
“Whoever broke in was searching for something.”
His phone is on speaker, and its Vin’s voice I hear.
Bryan watches me. “I’ll call you back.” Bryan pockets his phone. “Don’t be mad at Kourt. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt and to get her away from there.”
“She trusts you, as she should.”
“I’m going downstairs to my office.” He turns and leaves, no further discussion.
***
The beeping of a truck backing up and loud voices of men shouting wake me the next morning. I’m still in my clothes and alone in the room. Bryan’s side of the bed is undisturbed.
After a hot shower, I patter down to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Willis shouts over the noise of drills and hammers. He pours coffee into the cup in his hand.
“What’s all that?” I motion in the direction of the sounds coming from outside.
“They’re getting ready for the party tomorrow night.”
Marie steps out of the laundry room with a basket of towels. “You couldn’t sleep in either?” she shouts, that Southern drawl making her words sound like a song. “Would you like breakfast?”
“I’ll find something.”
“Don’t argue with her, you won’t win,” Willis shouts before walking out the kitchen.
“Sit. I made French toast.” Marie sets the laundry basket on the counter.
The faint sounds of giddy giggles from two girls running toward the kitchen drown out the noise outside. Kourtney has the biggest smile on her face when she passes through the door. Emma hugs me with one arm.
“How did you sleep?” I ask.
“Like a baby,” they shout together, tickling each other, struggling to do so with shopping bags in their hands.
“You guys went shopping this morning?”
“We’re giving each other manis and pedis for the party tomorrow. Bryan took us shopping.”
“Four shopping bags worth?”
Bryan walks into the kitchen. He winks at the girls on his way to the sink.
Marie sets a plate and bowl of fruit in front of me.
“Danielle, can we do your nails when you’re done eating?” Emma asks.
“Sure. Where do you want to do it?”
“The family room,” she says as they run out of the kitchen.
“Don’t come until we call you, Mom,” Kourtney yells.
Bryan sits next to me, plucking a grape out of my bowl with his fingers. “I cleared my schedule. We can go to your apartment anytime you’re ready.”
He’s a little more relaxed this morning.
“What are the girls up to? Emma got a manicure kit for her birthday.”
He bites the fruit. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy and you know I’m a man of my word.” He leans over to kiss me, then slips the grape-half into my mouth.
Marie leaves the kitchen, forgetting the basket, her words muted by the sounds of construction.
“Where did you sleep?” I ask.
“Did you miss me?”
I pick up a melon cube with my fingers, flick it with the tip of my tongue. “Nope.” I lick the tasty, ripe fruit. One. Slow. Long. Lick. Gazing into his eyes. Painting on a sexy smirk, I wrap my lips around the square and suck.
Bryan shifts in his seat and bites his lip.
Bryan three. Danielle one.
I pick up another piece; he captures my wrist in his hand. He takes the green cube from my fingers with his teeth. I lean toward him and bite the half poking out from his lips. Juice runs down his chin. I stop the flow with my tongue, feeling the rough stubble of hairs on his chin.
He shudders.
Who knew finding creative ways to eat breakfast could be a turn-on? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat honeydew melon, cantaloupe, and red grapes without getting aroused. Don’t even get me started on the syrup-covered French toast. The knife and fork go untouched.
“Danielle,” Emma calls.
“I guess they're ready for me. Are you coming?”
Bryan looks at his crotch, then at me and shakes his head.
I take my dishes to the sink, rinse them, and put them in the dishwasher.
“Now we’re even.” I kiss his cheek on my way out of the kitchen.
I float down the hallway, triumphant. When I walk into the family room, the girls are standing in front of a tall Christmas tree, the top third sparse of many decorations.
“They got their Christmas tree yesterday too,” Kourtney says.
“What did you do with the tree I bought?”
Emma points. “Look out the window.”
The small tree is decorated and sitting in the yard, its base covered in snow.
“We decorated that one, too,” Emma sings.
“Mom. Are we really staying for the holidays?”
“Yes, we are.”
“You promis
e?” She crosses her heart with her fingers.
I cross my heart.
The girls go back and forth whispering in each other’s ear until Kourtney nods.
“Mom? Isn’t Bryan your boyfriend?”
Unprepared to answer her question, I change the subject. “How about I help you guys finish decorating the tree and afterwards, we do our nails?”
Bryan enters the room carrying a stepladder.
While we finish the tree, Bryan and I talk to Kourtney about the break-in. She’s afraid to be in the apartment. Bryan assures her we can stay here as long as we need. He will not let us go back until he makes it safe for us to be there.
Once the tree is finished, I cover the coffee table with old newspaper and teach them how to pamper their hands and feet. Bryan sits on the sofa snapping photos of us on his phone.
I’m not a fan of young girls wearing colored nail polish on their fingers so I coat their nails with a clear polish and let them go crazy with colors on their toes. The shoes they’re wearing are closed-toe.
Bryan and I pick up lunch on our way to my apartment. Vin left a note on top of a bundle of unassembled moving boxes and a box of industrial strength trash bags by the door.
We spend a comfortable afternoon finishing our conversation from the other night while we clean up. I pack my important, irreplaceable items including my portable safe to take back to his house.
After I confirm nothing’s missing, we load up his Silverado and head back.
During dinner, Bryan receives a phone call and storms out of the house.
***
I’m holding a dirt-covered shovel as I stand over the hole disturbing the beautiful green grass. It’s a warm spring day and I’m alone in the cemetery in Arizona.
The shovel drops from my grasp. I pull at the wedding ring stuck on my finger, with tears of regret and pain making trails through the patches of dirt on my face. I tug harder. It won’t budge.
Bryan appears at my side. He smiles, and not just any smile, it’s that same mischievous smile his daughter is known to give when she’s up to no good.
Lifting my hand, his lips close over my fingertip. They inch up my ring finger until it disappears in his mouth. His textured, wet tongue swirls, making every part of my body want the same attention.