by LENA DIAZ,
“You think so?” Nick slid her that sideways glance again.
“It’s the best hypothesis I can come up with. I don’t suppose you could tell me more about what happened? All I know is that someone broke into Rafe’s house, apparently a botched robbery, and shot Rafe and his wife.”
“I guess since Bobby Ellington splashed it all over the newspapers for weeks, it’s really not a secret.”
“Is that why Rafe doesn’t like Ellington?”
Nick laughed. “Baby, it’s not that Rafe doesn’t like Ellington. He despises the man.” His smile faded. “With good reason.”
“Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me the reason.”
“Nope.”
She sighed and tapped her nails on the desk again. “What about the shooting? You said you could tell me about that.”
“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” he teased.
“Comes with the job.”
He raised a brow in question.
“I’m a therapist, a psychologist.”
Nick burst into laughter.
Darby tried not to be offended. “I wasn’t making a joke.”
He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss against her fingers before letting go. “My apologies, darlin’. You being a therapist just struck me funny.”
Darby had the impression he was remembering an inside joke, but she had no clue what it could be.
He leaned farther back in his chair, and propped his feet—which Darby just realized were encased in a pair of cowboy boots—on the desk.
“What you said is pretty much what happened,” he continued. “Rafe got shot in the chest. Cracked a rib, lost a lot of blood, but the bullet passed through without hitting any vital organs. Shelby got hit in the jugular. She couldn’t have been saved even if she’d been shot in a hospital. It was a tragedy, all the way around. And I don’t care what kind of self-delusion Jake is under. He has no right blaming my brother and making Rafe feel any worse than he already does. Jake is a moron.”
Darby blinked in surprise at the anger and conviction in Nick’s voice. She wouldn’t have expected the half-naked, outrageous flirt she’d met earlier to have such a serious side.
Just as quickly as he’d turned serious, his expression cleared and his mouth curved into that cocky half grin of his. “How about I take you to dinner? Now that all this is over and you don’t have to suffer with my far-too-serious brother anymore. You like seafood? We can go to Harry’s, get a seat by the window, eat lobster while we watch the boats sail by Castillo de San Marcos. Or we could go to The Columbia off St. George Street. Their roast pork à la Cubana is out-of-this-world good. You like Spanish food?”
A gorgeous man—gorgeous with a capital G—had just asked her out.
And Darby wasn’t even tempted.
She should have been all fluttery inside and excited. Instead, she was more interested in what was going on in Buresh’s office. Rafe was sitting in a chair now, looking down at the floor. Jake’s eyes were closed and he looked as though he’d fallen asleep against the wall. Buresh was sitting behind his desk, shaking his head.
“Looks like I’m too late. You’re already taken.”
She blinked, trying to remember what they were talking about before she’d gotten distracted. “I’m sorry, what?”
Nick grinned. “Never mind. I was just testing a theory, don’t really have the time anyway. When you see Rafe again, tell him I have to leave earlier than I’d expected, an undercover op. He can leave the car at my house. Another DEA guy will grab it and check it back in. I’ve already got something flashier and a whole lot faster for this assignment.”
“You mean the car we borrowed isn’t yours?” she asked as he rose from his chair.
“Heck no. I was driving it as part of my job. I’m a four-wheel-drive truck kind of guy, like Rafe. Only I’m too smart to ever let him drive my truck.” He pressed a kiss against her cheek, lingering longer than seemed appropriate. “Take care, darlin’. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” He winked and headed toward the exit.
Smiling at his outrageous behavior, Darby rubbed her cheek. When she looked back toward Buresh’s office, Rafe was staring at her. His jaw was clenched tight. For a moment, Darby wondered if he was angry at her for some reason. But then he turned back toward Buresh.
* * *
RAFE CROSSED HIS ARMS and leaned back in his chair. He shouldn’t be surprised that Darby had fallen for Nick’s charms. Most women did, nothing new there. What was new was that it bothered him, even more than having to sit through Buresh’s scolding.
“What’s it going to take, guys?” Buresh asked. “What’s it going to take to repair this rift between the two of you?” Now that his anger was spent, his face was no longer flushed. It was pale and drawn. He definitely shouldn’t have left the hospital so quickly after what he’d been through.
Jake’s face mirrored the same guilt Rafe was feeling. Rafe stood and crossed to the desk. “Captain, don’t you worry about Jake and me. We don’t have to be friends to work together.”
“Maybe not.” He scrubbed his hands across the stubble on his jaw and let out a long breath. “I give up, for now. I’m going home.” He pointed a finger at Jake. “You need to go home, too. Think really hard about what happened today. The sheriff’s office will have someone over here first thing in the morning to interview you and start their investigation into the shooting. I want this to go smoothly and fast so you can get back to work. And don’t forget to check in with the shrink. Understood?”
Jake gave him a tight nod. “Understood.”
“And, you,” Buresh said, swiveling in his chair to point at Rafe. “I want a full report sitting on my desk when I get here in the morning, including an ID on the dead guy, with a complete background. I want to know why he chose those particular victims, and how he chose them. I want this bomber case wrapped tight and done with so we can get this place back to normal.” He glanced past Rafe, looking through the glass into the squad room. “And escort Dr. Steele home, or to the hospital to see her friend, wherever she wants to go. I’m too tired to ask her more questions right now.”
Buresh stood and grabbed the suit jacket off the back of his chair. His hands shook as he shrugged it on.
“If you want to take a few more days, I can cover things here,” Rafe said.
Jake glanced at him, a look of resentment on his face. He was normally the captain’s go-to guy when the captain was out of the office. But it wasn’t as if Jake could fill in when he was on administrative leave.
“We’ll see how I feel in the morning,” Buresh said. “I might have you drop that report off at my house if I don’t make it in. I’ll let you know.” He sighed heavily. “I’ve got to work with Officer Daniels’s widow to plan the funeral.”
Daniels, the officer who’d been killed at the hospital. This would be the first funeral Rafe had attended since... He shied away from that thought.
Jake followed close on Buresh’s heels out of the office, not giving Rafe a chance to talk to him.
Rafe let out a frustrated breath and strode toward the desk where Darby was sitting. Her green eyes shined out of her pale face, reminding him again of a porcelain doll. And yet, she’d fought like a pit bull to save her friend today. Rafe might not care for the kind of work she did, but he had to grudgingly admit she’d surprised and impressed him. She could have sat in the car and been perfectly safe while he helped with the evacuation. Instead, she’d risked her life, all to help a friend. And then she’d ordered the cops to go help him, to provide backup as he searched for the bomber.
She stood as he neared the desk, her purse on her shoulder as if she was ready to go. “Detective Morgan—”
“After what we’ve been through, I think you can keep calling me Rafe. Don’t you?”
Her face flushed an adorable shade of pink. She blushed more than any woman he’d ever met.
“Um, yes, of course. Rafe. I thought, because we were in the station, that
I should still call you Det—”
“What were you going to say?”
She tightened her hand around her purse strap. “Is there anything else you need from me? Now that the bomber is...well, now that I’m not in danger? I’d really like to go see Mindy.”
He hated the idea of her being alone when she found out how her friend was doing. He hadn’t heard any updates, but he couldn’t imagine the prognosis was good. “As long as you don’t mind coming back in for an interview if we have more questions, you’re free to go. I can drop you off at the hospital and have an officer bring your car up there so you’ll have a way home.”
Some of the tension seemed to drain out of her. “That would be great. Thank you.”
He led her through the squad room to the parking lot. “I saw my brother talking to you earlier.” He held open the Charger’s passenger door.
“Oh, I forgot. He wanted me to tell you he had to leave earlier than expected, some kind of undercover assignment.”
He nodded, disappointed Nick hadn’t stuck around to talk to him. But he understood Nick’s job, and that he had his own schedule to keep.
When Rafe slid behind the wheel, Darby turned toward him. “I really appreciate everything you did for me. You saved my life, several times. I don’t know how to thank someone for that. All I can say is, if you ever...well, I know you don’t seem to like psychologists much. But I’m a good one. More than good. I’m one of the best in North Florida. That’s why I testify in so many cases.” She smoothed her nails across her slacks. “Anyway, if you ever want to talk, about Jake, or your wife, or whatever...I’m available. No charge.”
He tightened his hands on the wheel. “You seem to think I need fixing. I don’t. My life is fine, just the way it is. And while I’ll admit you’ve surprised me these past few days, and that you might not be the devil I once thought you were, nothing has really changed. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be out on the streets, arresting bad guys. And you’ll be right back in the courtroom, doing everything you can to let them go. Don’t think that because of everything we went through that we’re suddenly friends. We’re not, and we never will be.”
She blinked at him, her mouth falling slightly open during his little speech. Rafe ruthlessly squelched the feelings of guilt that shot through him. Darby had been trying to help. He knew that, but even if he believed in her mumbo-jumbo therapy—which he didn’t—he would never sit in a room with her and let her try to make him feel better.
Because he didn’t deserve it.
Regardless of how broken his marriage had already been before the night of the home invasion, he should have been able to protect her. He knew more than anyone how dangerous the world could be. He shouldn’t have let his guard down just because he was at home. If there was a way to rid himself of all this guilt, he wouldn’t take it.
Not when his wife was lying in a cold, lonely grave at the edge of town.
* * *
RAFE’S DENIAL THAT he needed help had filled Darby with sadness, but her sadness had turned to cold rage when she stepped into Mindy’s room in the intensive care unit. Mindy was lying unconscious on the bed, with wires and tubes attached all over her body. A ventilator hissed as it breathed for her, and the doctors weren’t sure if she’d ever wake up. The rage that flooded through Darby had no outlet, nowhere to go. Because the man who’d done this to her friend was dead. There was no one to spend her anger on.
She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same rage Jake felt. Or even how Rafe might feel inside—angry, helpless—with no one to blame for his wife’s death because the man who’d killed her had never been caught.
After spending an agonizing half hour watching her friend lying motionless in the hospital bed, Darby escaped from the room and headed to the parking lot. The policeman who’d driven her car to the hospital had stopped at the ICU earlier to return her keys. Darby dug those keys out of her purse now, and opened the driver’s side door to her black BMW. She was about to get inside, when a footstep sounded behind her.
She whirled around, clutching her keys to her chest. She scanned the parking lot. No one. Had she imagined that sound? She quickly got into her car and locked the door. Her mind was playing tricks on her. That’s all. There was no reason to be worried. The man who’d tried to kill her was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.
So why did she still feel so uneasy?
Chapter Eleven
Darby stepped inside the cool interior of the figurine shop, grateful for the relief from the heat outside. The bell above the scarred wooden door tinkled a welcome, reminding Darby of the ringtone on her phone, the phone she’d purposely left at home this morning before heading to St. George Street, the only “street” in St. Augustine reserved for pedestrians.
After spending the past two days sitting with Mindy’s family, watching the hope fade on their faces, she desperately needed to stop thinking, stop hurting. She needed a reminder that there was something still beautiful and good in the world, which was why she was wandering through the shops on one of the oldest streets in the country, unhooked and unplugged from the cruel world she’d been immersed in this past week.
And desperately trying not to think about Rafe Morgan.
“Morning, let me know if you need help finding anything.”
Darby leaned around one of the glass cases to see who’d spoken. A short, older woman with thick glasses waved at her from the back corner of the store. The feather duster in her other hand never stopped moving.
“Just browsing, not wanting anything in particular.” Darby returned the woman’s wave.
What she wanted wasn’t something she’d find in this store, or any store. What she wanted was a feeling of normalcy, to return to the way things used to be. But that was impossible when every time she went to bed she thought about Rafe Morgan—the way his dark eyes seemed to look into her soul, the way his deep voice cut across a room, the way he’d kissed her at the hospital.
The way he’d left her, after telling her they could never be friends.
Wanting a man who didn’t want her was beyond pathetic. Tomorrow she’d go back to work, reclaim her life. A temp agency was sending an assistant to help her. She refused to hire someone permanent. That would be like admitting Mindy would never return.
She shied away from that thought and the pain that shot straight to her heart. A crystal lighthouse caught her eye. The tiny black-and-red stripes were hand painted to resemble the St. Augustine Lighthouse a few miles down the road. Darby held the tiny figurine up to watch it sparkle. She sucked in a breath when she saw a man looking through the window at her.
He jerked back and disappeared into the crowd of tourists walking past the store. With the sunlight shining from behind him, his face had been in shadow. Darby drew a shaky breath, telling herself she was being silly. That man wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the figurines, window-shopping, like dozens of other people walking down the street.
Then why had he jerked back when she spotted him?
A shiver of foreboding snaked up her spine. She set the lighthouse down and rubbed the goose bumps forming on her arms.
“Did you find anything you like, dear?” The shopkeeper approached Darby, her feather duster dangling from her fingertips, a friendly smile on her face. “We have several more lighthouses in the back, if that’s what you’re interested in.”
Darby was tempted to take her up on her offer, but she’d known as soon as she’d stepped into the store that it wasn’t her kind of place. It was charming, and the figurines were beautiful, but she wasn’t a figurine kind of girl. The only reason she was tempted to stay in the store any longer was because her stomach was still fluttering from her scare—her unreasonable, totally unfounded scare when a tourist had looked through the window.
Ridiculous.
It didn’t take a degree in psychology to realize she needed to face her fears to make them go away. She needed to step back outside, rejoin the world and prove to herself that no
one was waiting to grab her and hold a knife to her side.
She forced a smile and shook her head. “Your store is lovely, but I’m not really looking for figurines. Thank you for your time.”
Disappointment clouded the woman’s eyes but she gave Darby a warm smile. “Of course, dear. There are plenty more shops around here. I’m sure you’ll find something that suits you.”
Darby adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, and stepped outside.
* * *
WITH CAPTAIN BURESH recuperating at home, and Jake on administrative leave, Rafe was stuck in Buresh’s office...on a Sunday. All those times he’d been jealous because the captain always chose Jake to fill in when he was out now seemed pathetic. Rafe’s desire to have his captain’s job someday had died a quick death after spending the past two days catching up on paperwork.
He’d rather defuse a bomb than fill out one more report, or listen to one more complaint from someone about something he couldn’t do anything about anyway.
The door to Buresh’s office opened and Rafe looked up, hoping for something, anything, more interesting than filling out forms. His hope withered away when one of the weekend shift officers walked inside with an armload of mail and dropped it onto the corner of the desk.
“Gee, thanks. Just what I need. More work.” Rafe frowned. “I didn’t think anyone delivered mail on Sundays.”
“Most of it’s interoffice stuff that just got sorted. There was one item that came by special courier. I guess they couldn’t wait until a weekday. Watch out for all those sharp edges. Wouldn’t want you to bleed to death from a paper cut.” The officer laughed and headed toward the door.
A tingling sensation had the hairs standing up on the back of Rafe’s neck. There was no reason to worry, but he was suddenly feeling a sense of déjà vu. “Wait a minute. You said a special courier dropped something off. Which envelope?”
The officer turned, riffled through the stack, then pulled out a large envelope that was bulging at one end.
