Be with Me

by Maya Banks

  spray over the tresses. He was careful to keep the nozzle pointed away from her injured hand.

  “This would be easier if you turn around,” he said.

  She closed her eyes but did as he suggested. When she opened them again, she found herself staring up into his eyes.

  “Put your arm up on my shoulder.”

  She carefully raised the brace and rested it on his right shoulder.

  He poured some of the shampoo over her head then carefully set the shower head back on its mount, pointing the spray away from them both. Then he delved his fingers into her hair, working the soap into a lather.

  She closed her eyes and swayed a little unsteadily as his fingers worked their magic.

  “Want me to get the rest?” he asked.

  She wanted to die of mortification. How could she possibly let him touch her when they both knew she’d react like an adolescent crushing on her first boyfriend?

  Her nipples were already tight and aching, her breasts heavy with need. He’d had the decency not to comment on that little tidbit, but he knew. He damn well knew.

  “Reggie, you’re hurt and you’re tired,” he said gently. “For once let me take care of you without worrying about what comes next, okay?”

  Without waiting for her to respond, he took a washcloth, lathered it with soap and began a slow sweep of her body. Each brush across her nipples yielded needle-like twinges. He worked slowly and with great care across her rib cage, barely touching the bruised area.

  His hand slid around back and up and down her spine then over the swell of her buttocks. He knelt and did a quick swipe of both legs before straightening back up again.

  He frowned as he tilted her chin upward to expose her neck. Anger glinted hard, like diamonds in his eyes. He ran a single finger over the bruised expanse of her throat. The washcloth followed behind, leaving a soapy trail in its wake.

  “Okay, turn around so I can rinse,” he directed.

  He cupped her elbow to steady her as she swiveled around. He made quick work of rinsing the soap from her hair and body then reached up to turn the water off.

  “Stay right there. Let me get you a towel. I don’t want you stepping out onto this wet floor. It’s slippery.”

  A moment later, he wrapped her in a towel then curled his arm around her and helped her out of the shower. The door opened, and Sawyer stuck his head in. He extended his hand with a folded pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  Cam took the clothes and tossed them near the sink.

  “I think I can manage now,” she said in a low voice.

  He touched her lightly on the arm. “I’ll be right outside. Don’t be stubborn, Reggie. If you need help, ask for it. I don’t want to have to come in here and pick your ass up off the floor after you’ve taken a nosedive.”

  She smiled and clutched the towel a little tighter around her. Her chest felt all fluttery, tight, like she couldn’t breathe around the little squeeze.

  He opened the door and walked out, shutting it behind him. She sank onto the toilet seat and closed her eyes. Her hands shook as she peeled away the towel. She felt dangerously close to crying, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.

  Maybe because you nearly got your ass killed. Maybe because the three men who mean the world to you have decided to launch a full-frontal assault?

  She reached for the clothes, knowing they wouldn’t give her long before they came in after her. As she pulled on the sweats, she grimaced. She hated the idea of showing up to an interview with her chief in sweats and a T-shirt, but at the same time she knew that Hutch had chosen the only thing she could possibly be comfortable in. Loose and not confining, the sweats and the T-shirt wouldn’t irritate her bruised ribs. Then there was the whole issue of going into the police station without a bra. God help her.

  Hutch’s leather jacket. The one he was never without no matter how damn hot it got. She could use it.

  Feeling marginally better about the situation, she ran her fingers through her hair after toweling more of the moisture from it. The curls spilled around her head in disarray, and with a resigned sigh, she gave up on trying to make herself presentable. No one would give a shit what she looked like anyway.

  She hesitated a fraction of a second before opening the bathroom door. Sawyer was there, as though he’d been waiting, and he probably had been. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her up close to his side as he helped her toward the bed.

  Knowing she would be talking to a brick wall, she didn’t even bother offering a protest. She gave a disgruntled sigh and let him put her where he wanted her.

  As he helped her back onto the bed, she looked over at Hutch.

  “Thanks for the clothes.”

  He smiled. “Anytime, baby.”

  She was just about to lean back against the pillows on her bed and indulge in some much-needed rest when the door flew open, startling her.

  She tensed, causing a rush of pain to course through her body. As she viewed the man standing in the doorway, an ache began in her head that was absent before.

  Her father.

  “Regina,” he said with a frown as he strode in. “Care to tell me why I had to hear about the incident you got yourself involved in from the media? Damage control. How many times do I have to impress upon you the need for damage control?”

  Her hand fluttered to her forehead. God, not now. What she wouldn’t give to make him go away.

  Sawyer eased closer to the bed. It dipped, and she found herself securely resting against his muscled body. For once she had no desire to make him go away.

  Peter Fallon looked around the room as if for the first time seeing that Regina wasn’t alone. His scowl grew.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, flinging his hand toward Hutch and Cam and then pointing toward her and Sawyer.

  Cam stepped forward. “Mr. Fallon, I don’t think this is a good time. Reggie is tired and in a lot of pain.”

  Her father’s eyes flashed, and he rounded on Cam. “Her name is Regina, and what the hell are you doing here? What are any of you doing here?” He directed his ire back at Regina. “Do you have any idea how this appears? You’re a public figure, Regina. For God’s sake, it’s time to start acting like one.”

  She eyed him dully, the pounding in her head vicious and unrelenting. “You’re the public figure, Dad.”

  Power. It was all about power to him. He wanted it, craved it, and it pissed him off that he’d never been able to establish power over his only child.

  He ignored her and began pacing back and forth while Cam and Hutch stared at him, their gazes narrow and angry.

  “We’ll hold a press conference when you’re released. I’ll need to issue a statement.”

  Press conference? She wanted to laugh. Who the hell cared about what went on in their little town? He might be able to pony up a one-man crew from Beaumont if it was a really slow news day.

  She closed her eyes and leaned into Sawyer. Why had he come? Why was he here? Of course. He was worried how what had happened to her would affect his public image, and then he walked in to see three men he loathed all standing around his daughter. Three men he’d never approved of, had done everything in his power to keep Regina away from when she was younger.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Mr. Fallon,” Hutch said evenly. “You’re upsetting Reggie.”

  She opened her eyes to see her father bristle with rage and then compose himself. He straightened his suit and then his tie.

  “I’ll arrange for the statement to be issued outside the hospital,” he said. “Surely you can manage that much, Regina. We can’t let it get out that our police department is ineffective. It would compromise the community’s faith in the department’s ability to keep them safe. All you’ll have to do is stand there and smile. I’ll do all the talking.”

  She clenched her teeth and trembled in rage. Sawyer’s hand smoothed up and down her arm, and his other hand rested on her thigh. H
e gave her a comforting squeeze. Then he leaned over and kissed the side of her head.

  Her father’s neck was mottled with anger. He made a show of checking his watch. “I’ll be out front waiting. The doctor said you’d be discharged within the hour.”

  He turned and stalked out of the room, the door closing with a bang behind him.

  “Pompous, self-important windbag,” Hutch said through clenched teeth. “I swear to God, one of these days I’m going to lay his ass out.”

  “Reggie, honey, are you okay?” Sawyer’s concerned voice sounded in her ear.

  “I’m fine,” she said quietly.

  She looked at each of them, saw the sympathy and the anger in their expressions. And guilt. They knew that the three of them were a serious bone of contention between her and her father.

  “What I need to know is who’s going to pull the truck around back so I can avoid the bullshit out front?”

  Cam grinned. “Leave that to me, Reggie darling. Hutch and Sawyer can hustle you to the ER entrance, and I’ll be waiting there.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The nurse, bless her heart, had Regina discharged in half an hour. While she listened to the nurse rattle off her spiel about aftercare instructions, Hutch bent down and slipped Regina’s shoes on her feet. A few seconds later, a second nurse appeared at the door with a wheelchair.

  “For God’s sake,” Regina muttered. “I don’t need a wheelchair.”

  The nurse folded a sheaf of papers and handed them to Sawyer. “Hospital policy,” she said with a smile.

  “Come on,” Hutch said as he helped her get up. “It won’t be so bad. It’ll be quicker anyway.”

  There was that. Regina had no guilt whatsoever about having Hutch or Sawyer break into a run with the wheelchair if they were spotted by her father.

  Press conference, my ass.

  Elections were right around the corner, and Peter Fallon would use any means necessary to thrust himself into the spotlight. Positively, of course.

  It probably suited him well to have a poor, pitiful daughter injured in the line of duty so he could take his tough-on-crime message to the public. She was only surprised he hadn’t dragged her mother along to play up the concerned maternal angle.

  But that would require Lydia to cancel her massage or hair appointment or whatever the hell it was she did every day.

  “You need to relax, baby,” Hutch murmured as he settled her into the wheelchair.

  She glanced down at her hands balled into fists in her lap. Hutch reached down and gently uncurled her fingers and laced them with his while Sawyer listened to the last of the nurse’s instructions.

  Sawyer turned around as the nurse exited the room. “You ready?”

  Regina nodded. She was ready to have this day over with. Ready to be done giving her statement. Ready to be at home in her own bed, where she could sleep for about twelve hours.

  Sawyer wheeled her around, but Hutch kept hold of one of her hands as he walked beside the wheelchair.

  “I wonder if you could pop a wheelie in one of these things,” Sawyer mused.

  Regina grinned. If she didn’t ache so bad, she’d tell him to go for it.

  They hustled her down the corridor, and then Sawyer pulled up short when they reached the end.

  “Look left, Hutch. Make sure the coast is clear.”

  Hutch ambled forward and glanced left, then right toward the emergency room.

  “All clear.”

  “Then let’s move,” Sawyer said as he pushed her into motion again.

  He jogged behind the chair as he rolled her through the ER lobby and to the automatic doors where the ambulances unloaded.

  Cam was waiting in the Tahoe.

  Without waiting for her to get up, Hutch simply reached down, plucked her up and deposited her into the backseat after Sawyer opened the door. Sawyer climbed into the front, and Hutch hurried around to the other side. As Hutch slid in, Cam took off.

  Hutch reached over and secured Regina’s seat belt, careful not to catch the tender part of her ribs.

  Regina grinned. Their getaway reminded her of old times. Sneaking out during high school, jumping into Cam’s beat-up Camaro and hauling ass down dirt country roads.

  When Cam pulled up to the police station a few minutes later, Jeremy was standing in the parking lot—if you could call a three-space piece of pavement a parking lot—waiting for them.

  Cam got out and Sawyer hopped out to open the door for Regina.

  Regina looked over at Hutch as he walked around to her side. “Can I borrow your jacket?”

  He glanced down her body then simply reached into the back and pulled out the worn leather jacket. He slipped it over her shoulders, and she gingerly put her arms into the sleeves. She felt a ton better. Not as exposed or vulnerable as she faced walking into the station.

  “Your father called, breathing fire,” Jeremy said dryly.

  Cam stopped cold and glared at him. “You keep his goddamn ass away from here.”

  Regina blinked in surprise. Even Sawyer drew up short and stared at Cam with a raised eyebrow.

  Jeremy held up his hands. “The chief told her father not to butt into an ongoing investigation. Whether he’ll heed that is anyone’s guess.”

  “Let’s get Reggie inside where she’s more comfortable,” Hutch said pointedly as he walked to where Regina stood next to Sawyer.

  Regina put her hand on Hutch’s wrist. “I’ll be fine. You can wait out here if you want. There’s not a whole lot of room inside.”

  He looked as though he’d protest, but Regina turned and walked gingerly toward the entrance. Jeremy fell into step beside her after a quick look back at Cam and the others.

  “You sure you’re up to this?” Jeremy asked as he held the door open for her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said shortly. “We have a job to do.”

  Greta, the dispatcher, looked up from the PBX system, slid her earphones off and smiled broadly at Regina. “How are you feeling?”

  Regina smiled back. “I’m good. Sore, but nothing about twelve hours of sleep won’t cure.”

  Greta nodded. “Try some lemon tea. It’ll make that throat of yours feel better. You look awful, honey.”

  Regina laughed, and it came out as a croak. “Thanks, Greta. I can always depend on you to be honest.”

  Greta thumbed in the direction of a nearby office door. “Chief’s waiting on you. Go on in.”

  Regina walked with as much confidence in her stride as she could muster and stuck her head inside the chief’s office.

  He looked up and motioned her and Jeremy in. As she went forward, she saw Carl Perkins push off the wall where he’d been leaning. Regina frowned. What was he doing here? He wasn’t a day-shifter.

  “Sit down, Regina. Get comfortable. No need for you to be standing,” Chief Witherspoon said as he gestured to the leather chair in front of his desk.

  Trying not to show how grateful she was to be issued that particular order, she perched gingerly on the edge and then relaxed, leaning back into the soft chair.

  The chief glanced up at Carl. “Carl is going to head up the investigation into the murder. Jeremy will be working with him and cooperating with the state police and the sheriff’s department.”

  Regina sat forward. “Sir, I want this case.”

  The chief shook his head. “You’re not even coming in for a while, Regina. I don’t want to see you for at least a week and even then you’ll be pushing paper.”

  She blew out her breath in frustration. “He killed that woman. He tried to kill me. I want to nail him.”

  “And we will,” the chief said patiently. “Right now I need you to tell us everything you can remember about what happened that night.”

  “Who was she?” Regina asked softly.