Blind Justice

by Gwen Hernandez

  Dammit. Had he telegraphed his thoughts again?

  On the dining table, his cell phone played the ringtone he’d chosen for Olivia. Rising, he grabbed the phone, his eyes tracking Tara as she disappeared into the tiny bathroom.

  “What’s up?” he asked, stepping into his boxers and wrangling them on with one hand. Talking to his PI while naked felt wrong.

  “The police decided not to wait until morning. They’re going to knock on Conklin’s door in a few minutes. Get ready to meet me at the police station.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TARA WAS ABOUT to lose Jeff.

  But she wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. Why would she? He was finally going to see his son again.

  The impersonal glare of the police station walls was broken only by scuff marks and glass cases full of pictures and trophies. The public portion of the building was nothing more than a wide corridor that ended at a glass window, behind which sat a woman wearing a uniform and badge.

  Jeff had checked in and been told to sit. Tara had been parked next to him on the cold, hard bench for close to thirty minutes, holding his hand. If his bouncing knee was any indication, he was as antsy as she was.

  She was going to suggest they get some fresh air when his cell phone rang.

  “Is it over?” Jeff asked the caller without preamble. He released her hand and launched himself to his feet, striding toward the exit. His voice was too low to make out the words as he slammed through the double doors and disappeared into the night.

  She hesitated. Should she follow or give him space? Filling her lungs on a long breath, she forced herself to stay put.

  Either way, he knew she was here for him when he was ready.

  The station was eerily quiet, any noise contained behind thick, windowless doors on either side of the check-in window. There was no magistrate or jail in the building, so presumably those who were arrested ended up elsewhere. How did the desk officer not go out of her mind with this cold, clinical view? Tara shivered.

  The ring of her cell phone shattered the silence. Fumbling through her oversized purse, she found her cell and answered before it stopped ringing.

  “Hey, it’s Mick.”

  “Hi.” Tara’s heart started racing. “Is she in labor?”

  “Actually, she already had the baby.” The scratchy connection couldn’t mask the excitement his voice.

  “Ohmigod, what? Are they both okay?”

  “Yes, Jenna’s resting. I would have called sooner, but it came on fast. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. You were busy.” Tara stood and started pacing, a smile slowly overtaking her face. “But give me deets!”

  Mick chuckled. “Her name is Mia Elena. She’s six pounds, eight ounces, and twenty inches long. Beautiful like her mom.”

  Tara’s phone buzzed. Mick had texted her a photo of a scrunchy-faced blue-eyed baby wrapped in striped blankets and a cotton cap. “Aw, she’s adorable.” Something plucked at Tara’s heart. She was so freaking happy for her friends. “It’s the year of girls. First Valerie and Scott, then Rose and Shaylee.” And Dan and Alyssa already had two girls. “Poor Robbie’s still the only boy in the bunch.”

  “He’ll probably love it,” Mick said. “At least once things calm down around here.”

  “We’ll make sure of it.” Tara checked her watch. It was just after ten p.m. “So, I’m in Wilmington, which means I can be there in about ninety minutes once I get a rental car.”

  Jeff was about to get his son back. He wouldn’t want or need her around much longer anyway. And Greg Luciano was in jail. She was safe again. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  Mick released an audible sigh. “That would be great. My mom and Adele are coming tomorrow, but Robbie’s on the tail end of a bad cold. I convinced a guy from work to stay with him for a while, but the kid’s not handling us abandoning him well. Too much upheaval when he already feels like shit. He’ll be a lot happier with you there, especially since Jenna and Mia won’t be able to get near him if he’s still sick when they come home.”

  Tara warmed at the praise, even as her chest pinched in sympathy for the little boy. “No problem.”

  “I’ll call my buddy and let him know you’ll be here in the next few hours.”

  “Okay.” Tara’s mind was already racing ahead to her next steps. She’d probably have to go to the airport to find a rental car this late. “Tell Jenna I love her.”

  “Will do. And Tara?”

  “Yeah?” She turned toward the door where Jeff had just reentered the building, his face flushed, jaw tight. Her smile dropped. Had something gone wrong?

  “Thank you,” Mick said, breaking into her spiraling thoughts. “Knowing Robbie’s in good hands makes this whole thing a lot less stressful for us.”

  “Of course! That’s my goal.” She tracked Jeff’s measured approach. “I’ll text you when I arrive.”

  After saying goodbye, Tara lowered the phone to her side as she met Jeff’s fiery gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  He glanced at the cell in her grip before looking her in the eyes. “Conklin is holding Evan hostage. They’re calling in SWAT.”

  “Oh, shit.” Shoving the phone in her back pocket, she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. SWAT might act quickly once they got the signal, but setting up and scoping out the situation could take hours. They could be in for a long night. No, not they. Jeff. She was leaving. “I’m sorry.”

  After an excruciating moment where he didn’t move, he slowly slid his arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. “He’s saying that Evan is his son and he’s not giving him up.”

  She pulled back to look at Jeff. “What?” Hell. This had to be killing him.

  Once the cops rescued Evan would they need proof that Jeff was his father? What if the guy was telling the truth? Did Jeff have any rights?

  “Is there a chance that he’s right?”

  Jeff sighed and glared at the ceiling. “With Bridget, anything’s possible.” He pulled free and crossed his arms, not meeting Tara’s gaze. “Either way, I don’t care. I’m the one who loves him. Blood or not, he’s my son in every way that matters. And I’m his dad.”

  Tara’s heart ripped open. How much more did Jeff and Evan have to suffer? Goddamned Bridget.

  Jeff had to be out of his mind with worry. The person who mattered most to him in the world was in the hands of an armed man who’d clearly snapped. If Evan really was Roy’s, proof would be easy enough to obtain. Why would he take the boy hostage?

  Jeff’s phone chimed and he tapped it, reading for a few seconds before he looked up and beat his fist against the wall. “Fuck.”

  Now what? Tara didn’t dare approach. Not because she feared he’d hurt her, but because his closed body language warned away anyone with half a brain.

  Behind the glass window, the woman stood with a frown. “Sir?”

  Jeff immediately held out his hands and nodded. “Sorry. I—”

  “We’ll go outside,” Tara said, scooping up her purse and grabbing Jeff’s hand to lead him to the exit.

  He followed without protest as she tugged him toward a concrete bench positioned under a streetlamp that faced the roundabout drive in front of the station. Neither of them sat. Dropping her bag, she faced him. “What’s wrong?”

  He clenched his fists and crossed his arms, staring at a spot over her shoulder. “Conklin called dispatch and confessed to killing Bridget.”

  Tara gasped. That couldn’t be good. It meant the guy had little to lose now.

  “She was pregnant again and he didn’t believe that he was the father.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff squeezed the back of his neck. “Now, he’s trying to use Evan as a bargaining chip to escape going to jail.”

  “That’s asinine. There’s no way this ends well for him.”

  And Evan was in the crossfire.

  God, how could Tara leave while Jeff was going through this? It was
one thing to take off while he was waiting for the happy occasion of being reunited with his son, but now? To abandon him when he was suffering?

  But what about Jenna? Her best friend. The one person who’d stood by Tara through all her shit over the years. They’d faced hell together and come out the other side, even though part of that hell had been of Tara’s making.

  Jeff paced and rubbed his face. “I’ve never felt more helpless in my life. I need to be there.” He jabbed at his phone. “If Olivia won’t tell me where he is…”

  All Tara’s rationalizations went out the window. He was clearly hurting. She couldn’t walk away now.

  She took his hand, tears threatening to crack her composure. So much pain. Maybe she could postpone her trip until morning. Just until Evan was safe.

  He has to be safe. Jeff needed a win.

  Her phone dinged with a message from Mick.

  I told Robbie you were on the way. He said to tell you BooBear can’t wait. :-)

  Jesus. If she could clone herself… She would’ve smiled at Mick’s transformation from reckless playboy to doting dad if her divided loyalties weren’t tearing her apart.

  “You need to leave, don’t you?” Jeff stared into the thicket of pine trees abutting the building.

  “Jenna had the baby, and her son is sick. I told Mick I’d drive down to Myrtle Beach tonight, but that was before I knew about—”

  “You should go.” Jeff’s voice was hard, almost unfriendly.

  “You don’t have to deal with this alone. I can wait until Evan is safe.” Robbie was sick, but he wasn’t being held at gunpoint. He was safe and had someone Mick trusted with him. He could wait a little longer.

  Jeff released her hand and crossed his arms. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been handling this on my own for months, and when it’s over I’ll be on my own again, with or without Evan. I enjoyed our time together, Tara, but we’re not a couple. You don’t owe me anything.”

  She couldn’t stop a sharp inhale. Her cheeks flamed and her pulse thumped in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

  He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. He’d asked her to stay mere hours ago. He wanted her here.

  Maybe he was one of those guys who couldn’t stand an emotional goodbye. Or he didn’t think he deserved her support. Or he was too embarrassed for her to see him this upset. People could be dumb like that.

  Or maybe, he’d used up all his emotional energy on his son. Not everything was about her. She got that.

  Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she said, “You’re wrong. I owe Jenna everything, but I owe you too. You stayed with me when I needed you. You saved my life more than once. But I wouldn’t stay with you out of any sense of debt or obligation. I’d stay because I care about you.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t look her way.

  I love you.

  The words popped into her head without warning. Thank God she had enough of a filter to keep them from coming out of her mouth.

  But, oh my God. She couldn’t deny it to herself any longer. For better or worse, she was in love with this magnificent, compassionate, sexy man, and no matter the outcome, she couldn’t regret it. Love welled up inside her like a fountain of pure joy, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  It came with a fierce need for Jeff to be happy, no matter the cost to herself.

  She had no expectations for a future with him, and yet her heart rose on a buoy of hope. Maybe someday…

  Jesus. She thought she’d loved a man before?

  She’d never even come close.

  Feeling a little shaky, she met his gaze, the chill he exuded rising between them like a wall of ice. “Are we going to part like strangers, or can I at least give you a goodbye kiss?”

  His gaze traveled up her body, finally meeting her eyes. His face was an unreadable mask, but a muscle in his jaw jumped. He glanced at her lips.

  The breath backed up in her chest when he reached out, caressing her cheek before sliding his hand into her hair. Maybe someday he could love me back. Maybe. Maybe.

  She leaned in and touched her lips to his for a soft, warm, and far too short kiss. Before she could step away, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pressed her close, deepening the contact until Tara felt dizzy.

  Could he feel her love in every stroke of her tongue, every caress of her fingers?

  This might be the last time she ever touched him, and she didn’t know how to let go. But tonight wasn’t about her. There were bigger things at stake than her reckless heart.

  Forcing herself to slow down, to end the kiss, she hugged him close, resting her cheek against his chest as they both caught their breath. She wanted to remember everything about him: his scent, the rare sound of his laughter, the feel of his skin, the whiskey glow of his eyes.

  With a final deep breath, a final brush of her hand down his back, she stepped out of his embrace and cradled his cheeks. “Let me know what happens with Evan. Please.”

  He nodded and gripped her hands, tugging them from his face and lowering them to her sides. “Goodbye, Tara.”

  Without another word, without looking back, he strode into the darkness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JEFF HADN’T EVEN made it to the police barricades surrounding the house where Ray Conklin was holding Evan when Olivia called.

  “Evan’s free, but his arm is broken. He’s on his way to the hospital in an ambulance now. I’m with him.”

  Jeff should have been with him, not his fucking PI.

  At least he’s not alone.

  “Conklin?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Rest in Hell, motherfucker.

  “I’ll tell you everything when you get here.”

  Five minutes later, Jeff sprinted through the brightly lit hospital parking lot faster than he’d ever run in his life. It wasn’t nearly fast enough.

  After checking in at the ER, he was shown to the room where Evan lay on a huge bed, his right arm resting on a table, bandaged and splinted and covered with ice packs.

  Relief, fear, and joy stirred a cyclone of emotion that nearly brought Jeff to his knees.

  “Daddy?” Evan’s eyes widened and then he burst into tears.

  Jeff nodded at a woman in scrubs and moved past her to stand at his son’s side. “Hey, peanut. I’ve missed you.”

  Lifting a hand, he hesitated. Where was it safe to touch?

  The woman said, “It’s just his arm and a bump on the right side of his head. No complaints of pain anywhere else.”

  With a nod of thanks, he took Evan’s left hand. God, where to begin? It had been four months since they’d spoken and he had no idea what his son had been through. But Evan recognized him. That was a good start.

  Over the next hour, Jeff stayed with him as much as he was allowed for X-rays and surgical prep. Evan had a compound fracture of his humerus—the upper arm bone—which required surgery to realign the bones and keep them fixed in place with pins.

  Good thing Conklin was already dead. The bastard.

  Once Evan was wheeled away for surgery, Jeff was asked to check in at the registration desk before becoming a fixture in the pediatric waiting room.

  Olivia found him at Registration, filling out insurance paperwork. Despite the late hour, she appeared perfectly composed in a button-up shirt and slacks, her tight curls oiled and scraped into a bun. “How’s he doing?”

  His baby, the light of his life, was under the knife, and Jeff couldn’t do squat keep him safe. Just like he hadn’t kept him safe from Bridget or Roy.

  What kind of father was he? He should have pushed Olivia harder to tell him where Evan was. After all, he’d been paying her, not the cops. Maybe if Jeff had been there he could’ve prevented— “You should have let me get him.”

  “It would’ve turned ugly and you know it.”

  Given what they knew now, she’d made the right call, but it still pissed him off.

  Jeff blew out a sigh. “Prob
ably. I’m just…” Angry, scared, overwhelmed? All of it.

  “There’s nothing you could have done, but I’d be just as upset in your shoes.”

  He nodded. The words on the stupid form wouldn’t come into focus. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate? A million things could go wrong. An allergic reaction, a bad doctor, too much blood loss… “He’s in surgery. They have to reset his arm and fix it with pins.”

  “Poor kid.” She moved in next to him and rested her elbows on the counter. “He’s had a rough few months. You both have.”

  “He’s alive and safe. That’s all that matters.”

  “And Roy Conklin is dead.”

  Jeff’s hands clenched. “At least something went right.” He shoved away the clipboard. “Tell me what happened.”

  Olivia grabbed the pen and papers and gestured toward a small sofa across the lobby. Once they were seated, she said, “Evan tried to run. Roy jerked him by the arm and Evan fell into the coffee table.”

  Jeff could hardly breathe. He’d been twiddling his thumbs at the police station while Evan fought for his life.

  “According to SWAT, Roy raised his gun like he was going to shoot. The sniper got Roy first.”

  Too close. Jeff had come too close to losing his son forever.

  Memories of Evan as a toddler, waddling toward him on chubby legs, made his eyes burn. More followed. Evan calling him “Dada” for the first time, Evan smiling up at him as Jeff read Diary of a Worm before bedtime, Evan crying when he fell and skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

  “He’ll be okay.” Olivia laid a hand on his shoulder. “You being here for him is exactly what he needs. It’s the only thing you need to worry about.”

  Were his thoughts that transparent? So much for his fucking poker face.

  Poker…

  Tara.

  There was no time for thoughts of her. And she was gone anyway. “I need to get this done.”

  With a nod, Olivia rose from her seat. “You want anything? Coffee?”

  He declined and forced himself to finish the paperwork. Clipboard in hand, he returned to the desk and gave the man behind the counter his info.