“I had my friend all set up and she wore a blood packet. All we needed to do was get your attention and then the rest was easy. We ginned up that fake fight and you fell right for it.”
“That was fake blood?”
“Fake blood. Fake fight. Most of my waitresses want to be actresses anyway. A few hundred bucks and a day off.” He shrugged. “Easy.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her more about the fake play he’d put on in downtown Grave Gulch.
Which made his next comment that much more surprising.
“This was never my intention, you know. Hurting you. At least, not at first.”
“Oh no?” She heard the quaver in her voice and hated it, but couldn’t help it around the adrenaline jangling her system.
“It’s just all gotten to be too much. I was so close to paying off my debts. Living without that hanging over my head, until you let that guy go free. And I finally realized, someone else has to suffer, too. You know?”
He turned on his heel then and left. As if that was somehow an explanation for what he’d done. Or a reason she should blithely accept his justifications while she sat strapped to a bomb.
She nearly let loose the scream that was building in her chest when she saw the flash of movement through the doorway to the kitchen. A loud grunt echoed from the direction of the living room as Brett Shea raced into the room.
“Evangeline! Don’t move!”
He was by her side immediately, his attention fully focused on the chair.
“He’s got a detonator. You have to leave! Now, Brett! You and Troy. You have to leave!”
“We’re not leaving without you.”
“But he’s going to blow us up.”
“Troy’s got it.”
“You—” Her voice trembled, raw in the throat from the urgency of it all. “You need to go help him.”
Brett nodded, understanding the import of her words. But it was the ones that came back to her that gave her the first kernel of hope. “He’s got a lot of incentive to ensure we’re all walking back out of here.”
* * *
Troy slammed a fist in Sal’s gut, the impact ringing through his wrist and up his arm. Damn, but the bastard was a grizzly bear. He was paunchy but big and he had a lot more power behind him than Troy expected.
He also had a detonator.
Brett had already shouted it from behind him as he sought a way to get at the detonator.
Troy wanted to scream at his partner to go to Evangeline, but for the moment, that detonator required their full focus. The presence of the police ensured the guy knew he was caught.
Which meant he had precious little motivation to keep them all alive.
Troy dodged a jab at his kidney but took a beefy fist to the ribs that nearly had him doubling over. It was only the reality of the stakes that kept his hand still locked hard on the man’s wrist, unwilling to give him any opportunity to press the button.
Brett moved in closer and Troy grunted as he tried to keep Sal pinned. But it was Brett’s quick stomp on the man’s exposed arm that ultimately did it. The combination of Troy’s hold on the wrist and Brett’s boot to the elbow had Sal screaming in pain, his fingers opening.
Brett snagged the detonator and raced to the kitchen. Troy moved equally fast, taking the temporary advantage and using it to turn the man over and dragging his hands behind his back. Sal’s Miranda rights were already falling from Troy’s lips as he tugged the handcuffs tight over those two meaty wrists.
Satisfied Sal was subdued, he opened the front door, his hands up. It was only when he got an “all clear” shout from Melissa, holding the line across the parking lot, that Troy screamed further orders.
“Stay where you are. Suspect is subdued but the bomb is still live.”
Melissa’s pale visage was the last thing he saw before he turned and ran toward the kitchen.
* * *
“Just a few minutes more, darlin’.” Brett’s voice was steady and calm and Evangeline figured it was costing him a lot to stay that way. And she wanted to believe him. She wanted to sink into that calm, reassuring voice and lose herself there.
Only she couldn’t because he was stuck under her kitchen chair, in close range of a bomb and Troy was sitting beside her at the table, his hand cradling hers.
“You need to leave. Please leave,” she’d asked, over and over, but the stubborn man refused to move.
Both men had put on bomb vests, after freeing her wrists and settling one over her, but it wasn’t enough. They needed to leave. It pressed on her, preying on her mind in an endless loop until a well of sobs finally took over, the adrenaline coursing through her body obscuring anything but the desperate prayer that they’d leave her and save themselves.
The sobs continued as she was lifted from the chair, wrapped in Troy’s arms as he walked her out of the house to the ambulance waiting in the parking lot. And they kept on when he climbed in behind the paramedics, riding with her to the hospital.
Later, she’d learn that Brett had executed the bomb’s defusion perfectly. She’d also learn that the bomb squad had come in for a formal sweep of her condo and all the other homes in her complex, declaring the entire facility safe. She’d even learn the name of the attacker, Sal Petrillo.
But all of it seemed so distant and foreign as she lay in the big hospital bed, machines beeping around her long into the night.
* * *
Troy stretched from his position on the chair beside Evangeline’s bed. He’d wanted to call her mother but had ultimately waited until morning. He knew she’d kept the news of her ordeal quiet and since it had been so late by the time she was fully checked out and brought to her room, he made the decision to err on the side of fresh morning light.
The doctor couldn’t give him much beyond the reassurance that she’d experienced a major trauma but would be all right with some time. So he’d stayed and waited and wondered how he could help her until her mother had shown up.
And after giving the kind woman with the even kinder eyes—Evangeline’s eyes—the details, he left. And went back to the precinct to write everything up. A steady stream of people came in to greet him throughout the day, all doing a mix of checking in and getting the latest on what had gone down. It was only when he finally confirmed that he’d tell everyone everything but he needed some quiet that the line outside his door finally died down.
Which was when Melissa showed up.
“You didn’t follow protocol yesterday.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And because of that, you saved her.”
It was high praise from his chief. But it was the understanding in her eyes that was all family. Melissa closed his door before crossing to the chairs in front of his desk. “You doing okay?”
“Sure. It’s the job. We’re just fortunate those days are few and far between.”
Not that he’d ever been part of a bomb defusion six inches away from his body. And certainly not one for the woman he was in love with.
Which only added to all the reasons he needed to walk away. He’d been a detective on cases that Evangeline prosecuted. One of those cases involved the town serial killer. Davison had to be Troy’s full focus right now.
“I know you, Troy Colton. Why are you torturing yourself about this? And why aren’t you with Evangeline?”
“We need to stop spending time with each other. It’s as simple as that. We both have jobs to do, even if the past few days have made us lose sight of that.”
“Jobs? You both almost died yesterday.”
“But we didn’t.”
“Troy—” His name hung there and much as he wanted to just send her away, he finally gave in. Throwing down his pen, he gave his cousin his full attention.
“You didn’t see her in that chair, Mel. The fear in her eyes. And the
adrenaline crash when the dam finally burst. She was in danger and has been all along and I spent half the time doubting her. Our jobs are too much at odds with one another. I knew it from the start and this has only proven it.”
“That’s bs and you know it.”
“Is it?” He might be sick of his own thoughts but he didn’t need his family’s interference, too. “How is it bull? Tell me how our professional lives haven’t complicated the situation.”
“It doesn’t matter if things got complicated. The point is that you care about each other.” He saw her grow still before she pressed on. “That you love each other. That doesn’t come along every day and to hell with some job standing in your way.”
“What good did that do my mother?” The words tore out of him, landing between him and Melissa with sharp, spiky edges. “She needed attention. She needed justice. But someone, somewhere dropped the ball. That’s why her murder is unsolved to this day.”
“You know as well as I do, we don’t close every one of them. It’s not a statement on the work, Troy. It’s a reality of the job.”
That might be the case but he’d spent a lifetime living with that reality. And he couldn’t stand the fact that his closed-mindedness and his inability to see the bigger picture of what was happening had nearly gotten Evangeline killed.
“The job takes everything. It’s just the way it is,” he said.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Melissa stood then and walked out of his office, leaving him to the empty thoughts that swirled in his mind, refusing to calm.
* * *
A week. Evangeline had been home a week. Her mother had fussed over her, making her favorite foods and sitting up talking with her late into the night. It had taken a few days but her mom had finally approached the question of why Evangeline had kept her in the dark about the leave of absence from her job.
After a lot of tears and “I’m sorrys,” Evangeline had finally shared the truth. That she was afraid of upsetting the new life her mother had built.
After getting a stern talking-to, full of Dora Whittaker’s abundant love and frustration, Evangeline could only laugh. How had she thought her mother couldn’t handle the truth? It was only after that storm passed that her mom had moved on to the subject of Troy.
Since that subject did nothing more than get Evangeline’s own ire up, her mother had ultimately changed the subject.
And now here she was.
The entire GGPD had checked in on her, Melissa at the front of the line. Brett and Ember had showed up with lunch one day earlier in the week. Grace and Ellie and Jillian had all come to see her, as well.
But Troy had stayed away.
Everyone diligently avoided mentioning his absence, but it loomed large all the same.
Which was why Evangeline ultimately moved on. The thoughts that had swirled so strong and sure during the experience with Sal Petrillo had morphed into purpose and, finally, action.
She loved the time she’d spent at the DA’s office, but it was time for something new. Through the years as a prosecutor she’d seen any number of women who’d been through similar situations as her mother. Families that had been torn apart by violence, physical and emotional, and who needed help and support to get back on their feet. It was something she’d thought about for years, but it finally felt like the time to make a change.
She’d given Arielle plenty of time in her resignation letter, but effective two weeks from now, Evangeline was beginning the courses needed to become a licensed social worker. It would be hard work to juggle the courses and her ADA job, but it was time to make a change.
Time to make a difference in the community in a new way.
It was a decision that felt right and good and she was ready to get started.
But first, she needed to close the current chapter of her life.
On the drive into downtown, she took in the familiar street signs and buildings she’d seen her entire life. Despite Sal Petrillo’s crimes against her, Grave Gulch was a good place to live. A good place to work and to build a life.
Evangeline was determined to find both.
She pulled into the parking lot at the GGPD and headed into the precinct. The steady hum of activity she always associated with the place was in full swing and she saw an active bullpen.
“Can I help—” Mary Suzuki broke off with a broad smile. “Ms. Whittaker. It’s good to see you. I’m so glad to see you’re doing okay.”
“Thank you. I wanted to see if Detective Troy Colton is in?”
“He is. Let me call him.” Mary was about to dial when Melissa materialized at the front desk.
“That won’t be necessary, Mary. I’ll walk Evangeline back.”
“Oh.” Mary’s eyes widened as she keyed in to why their chief was stepping in. “Thanks, Chief.”
Melissa gestured Evangeline through the door beside Mary’s desk, walking her through the bullpen. “I hope you brought your boxing gloves.”
“They don’t match my outfit,” Evangeline deadpanned, even as she caught onto Melissa’s meaning a lot quicker than Mary had.
“A solid choice, by the way. And those heels are awesome.” Melissa patted her back, giving her an encouraging smile as they reached Troy’s door. “No mercy.”
The obvious support buoyed her, giving her the final push she needed to get into Troy’s office. She had dressed carefully and the other woman’s notice added an extra shot in the arm.
Now or never, Whittaker.
“Troy. I’d like a few minutes.”
He looked up from his desk, the circles under his hazel eyes an obvious and outward sign of his exhaustion. “Evangeline.”
“You’ve been quiet this past week.”
“I’ve been trying to catch a killer.”
“I understand. Which is why I don’t need much of your time.” She turned and closed the door behind her. Whatever the outcome of this discussion, it was between her and Troy and no one else.
“I came to tell you a few things.”
She saw his mouth open in question but he quickly snapped it shut, saying nothing.
“I finally stopped crying. It took a few days, but I got it out of my system.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m not. Those tears gave me a lot of clarity. Some things I hadn’t been willing to admit or address in my life.”
His eyebrows narrowed in question, adding additional creases to those dark circles. “Clarity on what?”
“I’m no longer interested in working for the DA’s office. I’ve had a good run but I think my talents can be put to better use somewhere else.”
“That’s a loss for Arielle and for Grave Gulch.”
“I don’t think so and neither does she. I’ll see out all my current cases for the foreseeable future, but I’m starting classes in a few weeks. My new focus will be social work. Hopefully I can help people before they find themselves in need.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. But to be honest, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here, Evangeline?”
“I thought it was important to tell you that I love you.”
“I don’t—”
She held up a hand. “I don’t expect you to say it back. I also don’t expect you to do anything about it. But I do expect that you won’t lie to me.”
She saw the flash of heat in his eyes. Good. The jab hit its mark and she didn’t even need boxing gloves to do it.
“I haven’t lied to you,” he said.
“Then you’ve lied to yourself.”
As more anger flashed, Evangeline knew she’d landed another direct hit.
“You’ve somehow convinced yourself that the calling you have for your job means you can’t have a life. And that’s a steaming pile of crap.”
“It’s true.”
“No, actually, it’s not. Do you want to know how I know?”
She saw it then. The moment when everything shifted. When the walls he’d put up to protect himself began to crack. “How do you know?”
“Because I was there, too. I believed more of my father’s lies and abuses than I realized. I convinced myself that I didn’t have what it takes. Or that I had a hand tied behind my back because I always had to prove myself. That I was emotional. Or hysterically reacting to a situation. I wasn’t, but I forced myself to remain calm and dispassionate to make my choices.”
She let out a hard sigh. “Because of it, I let Len Davison slip through my fingers. I read the data but I didn’t truly read the evidence.”
“I’ve told you from the start that’s not all your fault.”
Oh, this sweet, sweet man, Evangeline marveled. Still singing that tune.
“But you see, Troy. It is my fault. That’s what I’ve had to come to accept. That data and details are just that. Items that sometimes add up and sometimes don’t. It’s what’s inside—” she moved closer, laying a hand on her chest “—what’s in here that matters.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’ve convinced yourself the only way you can honor your mother is to keep the cop separate from the man. But it’s the man you are that makes you an amazing cop. One your mother would be proud of.” Evangeline doubled down, full well knowing it was the truth. “One she is proud of.”
He came around his desk then and stood before her. “I can’t be someone I’m not.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“That if you love me you’ll take the chance on us. That you’ll fight for us. And that you’ll still be Detective Troy Colton every day, too.”
Whatever lingering ire filled his eyes vanished, replaced by a haunting vulnerability that skewered her clean through. “What if I don’t know how?”
Harlequin Romantic Suspense July 2021 Box Set Page 41