Wrecked Heart

by Cassie Wild

  I was ornery enough not to give him the pleasure.

  “You cooled off now, son?”

  I glared at the cop bending over the open back door of the squad car. My head was still spinning more than I wanted to admit. The cop I’d busted in the mouth seemed to waver in front of me. For a couple of seconds, there had been three of him. I finally focused on the one in the middle, because…logic.

  His eyes were steady on my face as he studied me, his dark face showing no sign of anger or irritation. I could have been staring at a mask for all the emotion he showed.

  I didn’t say anything. So he waited.

  Finally, I gave a stiff, short nod.

  He responded with a polite one of his own. “Good. Then this will be a lot easier on all of us.”

  “Ain’t going to be that easy on him,” Whalen said from behind his partner. “We’re looking at resisting arrest here, Riggs. Busted you right in the mouth, didn’t he?”

  A muscle pulsed in the cop’s cheek, his complexion growing even darker. I got the impression he didn’t like his partner, but Riggs didn’t say anything, just reached in and helped me slide out of the car, one hand on my head so I didn’t hit it.

  I minded my manners, even though the last fucking thing I wanted to do was walk into that big, brightly lit building. I had no doubt the second I did, somebody who knew me would make a call, then another person would make a call. Sooner or later, Declan, Brooks, or Dad would hear.

  And it was my own fucking fault.

  The whole damn mess was my fault, and it would be an even bigger mess because I’d attacked Riggs, pretending to be out of it as he pulled me from the car, striking out with my forehead at the last possible second and headbutting him. He got a busted lip, and for my trouble, I had road rash on my face, sore shoulders, and the pleasant feeling of knowing what it was like to be tased.

  It hurt like a son of a bitch.

  “You’re behaving awful good there, boy,” Whalen said, his jeering tone setting off every last nerve inside my adrenaline-fueled body.

  I ignored him and kept on walking.

  “Tell me something…that wife of yours. Read she was a dancer. She had some ass on her…bet she could wrap those legs around you and—”

  I tensed, my temper snapping. But Riggs jerked me back and spun me off to the side, putting himself between me and the other cop. “What the fuck’s the matter with you?” he demanded, his voice so low I could hardly hear him.

  “Man, don’t you know who he is?”

  “I don’t care. You’re supposed to be a professional. Act like one.” Once more, we started back up to the station, Riggs keeping me on his left side this time instead of between me and his partner.

  Breathe, I told myself. All I had to do was breathe and ignore that shithead for a few more minutes.

  But that processing shit took a lot longer than I thought, and while Riggs was turning over paperwork and answering questions, Whalen came up behind me and started all over again.

  “Bet she was a hot little bitch, wasn’t she?” he whispered. “Her daddy give her to you so the Castellanos and the Downings could have some sort of partnership?”

  I stared hard at Riggs’s back, telling myself it wasn’t worth it to snap and lose my temper over this shit-sniveling weasel. It wasn’t worth it.

  “Me, I’d just love to have some fucker give me a piece of ass like that. I’d have her on her knees—”

  I didn’t even remember moving. I drove my head back, hard. Cartilage crunched.

  Whalen yowled.

  Curses filled the air, but I ignored them, turning around and driving my foot into Whalen’s knee. I only managed a glancing blow before somebody took me down. Still, just before I hit the floor—hard—I heard his high-pitched, pained yelp.

  It was the sweetest sound I’d heard in a long, long time.

  “Damn it, Whalen, you stupid fuck. Didn’t I tell you to back off?” I heard Riggs shouting.

  Somebody else was yelling too, but I couldn’t concentrate on who it was, or what they might be saying. The bright lights overhead were going dimmer.

  Then it wasn’t just dim. It was dark.

  And quiet.

  It suited me just fine.

  It was late Saturday night when I was arrested—well, technically, early Sunday morning.

  Nobody from my family showed up to see me.

  No lawyer showed up.

  I hadn’t used my phone call, so that might explain the radio silence, but I was still surprised when, come Monday morning, a public defender presented herself to me.

  She looked maybe sixteen years old, wearing an off-the-rack suit in a color that didn’t do anything for her, although nothing could hide the fact that she was cute. She’d probably be eaten alive in a couple of years, if something didn’t knock the shine off her soon.

  She offered her hand after the guard took my cuffs off and introduced herself. “Kacie Jenkins,” she said. Then she spelled her name out.

  “Okay. I’m Sean.” Feeling like a smart-ass, I spelled mine out too.

  “You’re funny.” She grinned at me and gestured for me to sit down.

  I’d no sooner done so than somebody knocked sharply on the door and shoved it open. I closed my eyes and stifled a groan as I saw the intruders. One was a lawyer friend of my father’s—Felix Malone.

  Brooks was the other.

  His face was set in a cool, unreadable mask, even his eyes.

  Slumping in the seat, I focused on the girl in front of me. She was already rising to meet Felix. “Mr. Malone.”

  Malone was well known in the area.

  “Hello…Ms. Jenkins, is it? I’m sorry to intrude, but I was late getting here. Mr. Downing won’t be needing the services of a public defender. His family has retained my firm to represent him.” He held out a card.

  “Is that so?” Kacie looked at the card, at Malone, then at me.

  “What if I want to stick with you, Kacie, spelled K-A-C-I-E?” I somehow managed to sum up a flirtatious smile.

  It didn’t work on her.

  She tapped the card against the palm of her opposite hand. “If I was being honest and looking out for the best interest of my client,” she said after a few seconds of consideration. “Then I’d tell you that you should be smart and accept the help your family is giving you, Mr. Downing. I like to think I’m good at my job. Granted, I’ve only been with the public defender’s office for a year, but I’m doing fairly well. However, I can’t offer the resources Mr. Malone can.”

  I squinted at her. “Well, I—”

  She picked up her bag. “Take your family’s offer, Sean.”

  The door closed behind her without anybody else saying a word.

  Malone cleared his throat and moved to take her vacated seat. “Shall we begin?”

  I flicked a look at Brooks.

  He’d taken up position by the door and was staring at his phone, not giving me any attention at all.

  Hell.

  Three hours later, I walked outside with Felix Malone and my brother.

  Brooks still hadn’t said a thing to me.

  I gave Malone a sour look. “Grief counseling?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Judge Hamilton obviously feels the loss you’ve suffered has affected your…judgment, Sean. And, of course, Officer Riggs’s statement about his partner’s behavior weighed heavily in your favor.” He took great care not to look at me as he spoke, tugging at the sleeves of his overcoat, checking his watch, smoothing his collar. Anything but looking at me. “All in all, she showed a great deal of compassion. Forty hours of community service, grief counseling, and a fine after being found intoxicated—”

  “I wasn’t—” I realized I was shouting, then stopped, lowering my voice. “I wasn’t driving. The keys were in the back seat!”

  “One more thing that weighed in your favor. It was fortunate that Officer Riggs was available to come in and speak. Otherwise, we’d likely be looking at a very different set of circum
stances.”

  “I’m still not off the hook,” I growled.

  “If you hadn’t busted that cop in the mouth,” Brooks snapped. “We probably could have made this whole thing disappear. And you didn’t attack just one cop, but two! And you busted up the second one right in the middle of the police station!”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. After a few seconds, I tried again. “He was talking about Isabel. I lost it.”

  Brooks looked like he wanted to argue, then stopped, just shaking his head.

  “Judge Hamilton sympathized, Sean. That’s why you got off so easily,” Malone said softly.

  I scowled, and muttered, “Just what I need…sympathy.”

  Damn, I hated that word.

  “We spoke, Officer Riggs, Hamilton, and I.” He glanced at me. “Sympathy for your loss and some irritation toward Officer Whalen all factored into this. But, Sean…you can’t screw up like this again. I can’t guarantee it will go so easily in your favor next time, family connections or not.”

  Twelve

  Tish

  “It was a hard one for you, wasn’t it?”

  I looked up to see Tracy standing in the doorway, watching me. I hadn’t even heard her come in.

  “What?”

  She moved deeper into the room, sad understanding on her face. She didn’t go to her normal seat. Instead, she leaned against the wide doorframe that separated the little kitchenette from the meeting space, groaning a little as she shifted and maneuvered until she found a comfortable enough position for her back. Once she’d done that, she looked back at me with a sympathetic smile. “The first few years after my sister died were rough, and I had other family members around. LeMarcus and I had just started dating. Hell, I don’t know how he put up with me.”

  “I guess he loved you.” An old ache moved through my heart even as I said it, memories of the last time I’d seen Wylie surfacing briefly. We’d been together for several years, and when I’d needed his support the most, he’d been emotionally absent on me. Maybe that wasn’t fair.

  “What is it?”

  Under the warm concern in Tracy’s eyes, I felt some of my inner resolve crumbling.

  The past week had been hard. I’d spent Thanksgiving morning and afternoon volunteering at a shelter. I’d started helping out there a couple of months ago after one of the group members mentioned they’d been doing some volunteering and it had helped them.

  It did help, easing some of the emptiness inside me, but nothing was going to fill it, I’d come to accept. After my shift at the shelter, I’d showered and gone into the sports bar. I’d volunteered to work so those with families wouldn’t have to. Several other girls had done the same, either those who didn’t have family around or just wanted the extra money. By the time I’d gotten home, I’d been exhausted and should have fallen into a deep sleep, but still, I just lay there, feeling the ache of loneliness spread through me.

  “I was seeing somebody when my parents died,” I said finally, the words coming slowly.

  Tracy cocked her head, waiting. “And…?”

  “I thought we were going to marry. I could already see my life spread out in front of me…I liked what I saw.” Biting my lip, I looked down at the chair I’d just placed. “That probably sounds silly. I turn twenty-five in a few weeks. Why would I already be so focused on settling down and all that, right?”

  “It’s only silly if that’s not the way you wanted it,” Tracy pointed out. “But that wasn’t the case.”

  “No.” I tightened my hands on the chair, as the memory of flames shooting high into the sky danced across my mind.

  Her voice was so soft as she finished for me, “Then the fire happened. And everything changed.”

  Wordlessly, I nodded.

  Tracy’s ballet flats were all but soundless as she walked across the floor to me, but I sensed her approach. Looking up, I found her holding out her hand. I accepted it, and she led me over to the couch by the window. Once we sat, she patted my hand and let go. “I’m going to go out on a ledge and say that this boyfriend of yours couldn’t understand how everything had gone and changed…for you. Because while he realized you’d suffered a loss, he probably hadn’t ever gone through something so devastating. He probably has no idea how deeply this can impact a person.”

  “No.” I linked my hands in my lap, staring hard at the floor as I remembered the confused look I’d see on his face so often. “Both his parents are still alive. They’re…nice. But emotion isn’t their thing. I guess he comes by it honestly.”

  “Guys and emotion aren’t always an easy mix anyway,” Tracy said wryly. “If his mom is somebody who represses hers too…well, this sounds harsh, but you probably dodged a bullet, Tish. If he wasn’t going to let himself be there for you emotionally, then you were—are—better off without him. Even if you’re struggling through this by yourself right now.”

  I managed a weak smile. “I hope so.”

  She took my hand once more and squeezed. “You’re going to be okay, you know. You’re strong. It just takes time.”

  It wasn’t until Tracy went into her ‘new-person’ talk that I realized an unfamiliar face was there.

  I’d spotted Amber earlier and forced myself to say hello to her, but beyond that, I’d been quiet, my thoughts turned inward, not at all focused on the people around me.

  I spotted the new guy sitting off to my right. Even though he was—technically—in the circle, it was pretty obvious he had closed himself off and had absolutely no desire to be there.

  Once Tracy was done introducing herself and letting all of us do the same, she looked back at him with a polite smile and arched a brow.

  He was quiet for several long seconds, long enough to make me wonder if he was even going to reply. Finally, in a low, flat voice, he said, “Sean.”

  That, and nothing else.

  Tracy didn’t let it get to her. She just smiled and nodded. “People only talk here when and if they want to, Sean. It’s all about moving at your own pace, when you are ready.” With that, she shifted her attention away from him. “So…I know this was a rough week for a lot of us…”

  She went through her normal agenda, and I listened intently while some of the members talked. Others, including me, just sat and listened.

  I heard somebody sniffling and looked up to see Amber swiping away at the tears with her fingers. Sliding from the chair, I grabbed a box of tissues and took them over to her. She gave me a grateful smile. On my way back to my seat, I got a better look at the newcomer.

  There was something familiar about him. Under the heavy stubble of growth, he had a face that was almost too beautiful for a guy. Once he shaved, it would probably take him from almost to too beautiful, I imagined. His hair was wavy and light brown, shot through threads of both lighter and deeper hues that could have been the result of a highlight job, but somehow, I didn’t see this guy sitting in a chair for a beautician long enough to get that effect.

  His gaze flicked in my direction but not long enough for me to get a look at his eyes.

  For a second, that irritated me.

  I brushed it off as I sat back down, telling myself I didn’t care what his eyes looked like.

  Tracy nodded at Tommy, then glanced at me. As she went to speak, though, she gasped, then groaned, her hand flying to her belly. Instantly, almost everybody in the group was on their feet. Tommy and I got to her first.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Tracy said, trying to wave us off. “I just need…”

  She went to haul herself out of the chair, but stopped, grimacing again.

  Tommy offered a hand, and she scowled but accepted. She waved us off as she gestured toward the hall. “Just give me a minute. And talk…don’t sit around staring at each other.” She softened the command with a smile, but nobody said anything until we heard the bathroom door shut.

  “She’s not in labor, is she?” Amber asked timidly.

  “Hope not.” Tommy shot a skeptical look at the hallw
ay, then eyed both Sean and Amber. “Either of you got medical experience?”

  Sean cocked a sardonic, expressive brow that more than adequately expressed his answer, while Amber offered a dismayed laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “He’s kidding,” I said, although I wasn’t as amused as I might have been on other nights. “She’s already given Tommy, Matt, and me the contact numbers in case anything happens, and 9-1-1 is super easy for any of us to dial.”

  Amber breathed a little easier.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Sean, and he’d already retreated back into some grim corner of his mind.

  One of the members asked Amber a question, wisely ignoring Sean, and the group fell into a casual chat. After a few minutes, I got up to go check on Tracy. I found her standing at the sink in the women’s restroom, bent over and clutching the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip. Alarm tightened in my belly. “Should I call 9-1-1?”

  She laughed weakly. “No. I’ve been having Braxton-Higgs contractions all week.” At my confused look, she clarified, “it’s basically false labor. I even went into the doctor yesterday, convinced I was in labor. But the baby is just making me suffer.” She managed to smile, but the pain in her eyes was clear. “I called LeMarcus to come get me. I can’t drive hurting like this.” She caught her breath, then blew it out. “And I don’t think I should go back out there, either.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip. “I can let the group wrap up, tell them you’re okay, just hurting. And I’ll ask Tommy if he can help me close down and lock up, if you want.”

  “Thank you.” She reached out and squeezed my hand, then went back to clutching at the edge of the sink.

  “You’re sure you shouldn’t go get checked out?”

  “The doctor told me what to watch for, and if I start to get worried, I’ll go.” Tracy gave me a reassuring smile. “I need a favor. Can you get my purse and coat for me? I’m just going to wait here until LeMarcus arrives. I already texted him. He’s on his way so it shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”