by Lisa Childs
Billy shook his head. “He isn’t keeping anything from you. You are just too determined to see anything but the truth where Kent is concerned. And that’s too bad.”
“Why?”
“Because I think, despite what a bitch you’ve been to him, that he likes you.” He shook his head as if disgusted. “Something about you attracts him.”
“I have a pulse.”
“Kent’s not a player. I was razzing him that night you overheard us talking at the bar. Sure, Channel 7 would like to be involved with him, but he’s not interested in her.” Billy snorted and added, “He’s interested in you.”
Erin’s pulse leaped. “He…he—”
“You can’t deny it,” Billy interrupted. “You know he is.”
His kisses had told her as much, but still she argued, “He’s just trying to charm me the way he has Channel 7 so that I’ll write more favorably about him and the department.”
Billy snorted again. “If that was his intention, it doesn’t seem to be working for him.”
It was working more than Erin cared to admit. The memory of his touch kept her awake nights, imagining what they could have—if they were different people. If he hadn’t been the officer who’d arrested her brother…
“But that’s not what he’s doing,” Billy insisted. “He’s not that guy you’re trying to make him out to be.”
“What guy is he?” she asked almost flippantly, even though she really wanted to know. She needed to know.
“He’s the kind of guy,” Billy said, his voice full of emotion, “who takes a bullet for another guy.”
Erin’s heart clenched with the realization of what his friend was telling her. “He got shot? He took a bullet. For you?”
“For the chief. Three years ago. That’s where he got his nickname.” Billy’s dark eyes glistened with emotion and pride in his friend. “Because he still has one in his spine.”
“What—” Erin swallowed the tears burning her throat as she reeled from the revelation. In the year she had been living in Lakewood, she hadn’t heard about any officer getting shot. Ever. She hadn’t even briefly considered that as a possible reason for his moniker. “What happened?”
“He jumped into the line of fire,” Billy explained. “Shielded the chief with his body, saving Chief Archer’s life without a care about his own.”
She closed her eyes to shut out the image, but it played through her mind. Kent protecting the chief, the bullet striking his body. His blood seeping out of the wound, staining his black uniform as it spilled from his body. She gasped as if someone had slammed a fist into her stomach.
“How—how bad was it?” she managed to ask, hoping that what she’d just imagined was worse than the reality.
“We almost lost him,” Billy said, confirming her fears. “His heart stopped beating a couple of times, but they shocked him back. He lost so much blood….”
She couldn’t think about that. Instead she focused on what had happened. “You said he still has a bullet in his spine?”
“They couldn’t get it out,” his friend said, rubbing a hand over his beard as if struggling with the memories of that dark time, “not without paralyzing him.”
“Oh, my God…” Paralyzed. The thought of Kent, so strong and healthy, being disabled by an act of heroism…She blinked hard, fighting the sting of tears. “But how could they just leave it in? Doesn’t it bother him?”
“He won’t admit it, not even to me, but I see the pain on his face. It keeps him awake some nights. Other times if he moves too quickly, turns too sharply, a look crosses his face.” Billy expelled a ragged sigh. “I know he’s hurting like hell.”
“He grimaces.” She remembered that look when the little girl from Jason’s class had climbed into his arms. Erin had physically felt his pain.
“Yeah.” Billy nodded. “You noticed then.”
She had noticed more than she’d realized about Kent. “I wondered…” She drew in a shaky breath. “But I never imagined…”
“He didn’t want you to know.” Billy shook his head. “I’m going to catch hell for telling you.”
“Was it just me he didn’t want to know? Because he worried that I might write an article about it?”
Billy uttered a humorless chuckle. “I think we all know there’s no way you’ll ever write anything flattering about Kent. No. He hates it when anyone finds out what happened to him.”
“Why?”
The sergeant shrugged. “He doesn’t want them thinking he’s a hero.”
“But he is. He saved the chief’s life.” She didn’t doubt that Billy Halliday had told her the truth. Something about the man, despite his scruffy appearance, inspired her confidence. Like his mother, he was too straightforward to attempt to trick her.
“Kent absolutely hates it when people treat him like a hero, when they treat him differently.” Billy laughed. “Maybe that’s why he likes you. You’ve certainly never done that.”
“No, I haven’t.” The guilt increased, weighing on her. “I wish I’d known….”
“Would it have changed what you’ve written about him?” Billy asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied. It certainly added to her confusion now, and her concern for him. “What about his pain? Can’t they do anything for him? Can’t they try again to get the bullet out?”
The sergeant shrugged. “There wasn’t a whole lot they could do for him without putting him in a wheelchair. But leaving the bullet in isn’t real safe, either—scar tissue can cause nerve damage. That’s why he can’t get medical clearance to do his job now. That’s why he’s been desked.”
“Desked?” she asked.
“Taken out of the field.” Billy shuddered, as if the thought inspired nightmares. “That probably hurt Kent more than the gunshot wound.”
“Hurt him?” She had thought that he’d wanted his cushy desk job. Clearly she’d thought wrong.
“Kent thrived in the field. He had the highest arrest record for a reason. He loved doing his job.”
“So he wasn’t promoted?” She’d always considered his move his motive for framing her brother. But if that wasn’t it, why would he have…?
“The chief sees it that Kent earned his job.”
“By taking the bullet meant for him.”
“By being the best damn police officer Lakewood’s ever had,” Billy said defensively.
“You are a good friend.”
“I’m not a fool,” he said, his dark eyes burning with righteous anger. “I see the man Kent really is.”
“And that is?”
“He’s a hero. Why don’t you print that?” he challenged.
“Because I didn’t know….”
“That makes you a pretty lousy reporter,” he said, “don’t you think?”
Erin silently agreed with the vice cop’s critical assessment. Because of Mitchell, she had lost her objectivity. But learning about Kent’s heroism had only made her lose more—maybe her heart….
KENT LAY ON THE hardwood floor, breathing deeply and slowly, willing himself to relax so that the tense muscles in his back would do the same. He closed his eyes, but then saw her face—the delicate features, the fathomless brown eyes—and he tensed again, grimacing at the spasm of pain that clutched him.
“Dammit…”
The ringing of the telephone punctuated his curse. Maybe he should have forced the chief to accept his resignation. Then he wouldn’t have to be available twenty-four–seven anymore. He grabbed the cordless receiver with a terse greeting. “Terlecki here.”
“Can you come over?” a female voice asked.
His breath shuddered out with surprise. “Erin?”
“Yes,” she said, almost shyly. “Can you come over? I want to talk to you.”
Bitterness and resentment welled up in a short laugh. “The problem is not your talking to me, Erin. The problem is when I talk to you, you twist every damn word I say to you.” He snorted. “Hell, you twist everything I say to eve
ryone. Even to your nephew…”
“I know,” she quietly agreed. “You have no reason to trust me.”
“I have no reason to talk to you,” he said, even if it was his damn job. For the moment. “So, what? You need another quote for your next column?”
“Kent, please come over,” she implored, “or tell me where you live. I’ll come to you. We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you but goodbye.” Hand shaking, Kent clicked off the phone, then flung it across the room, where it struck the wainscoting and bounced onto the floor. “Damn her!”
Hell, maybe he did need to talk to her. She was a big girl—big enough to take on him and the entire police department. She could handle learning the truth about her brother. Maybe it was about time someone told her. Maybe it was about damn time he told her.
Sure, she wouldn’t believe him, as he’d warned the chief, but at least everything would be out in the open between them. She’d know he was aware that her grudge against him was the reason for her venomous articles.
The pain in his back forgotten—for the moment—he vaulted to his feet, grabbed his jacket and the file on her brother. Then he opened the door, to find Billy about to jab the key in the lock.
“What the heck,” Kent said in surprise. “I thought you were deep cover.”
“I have to talk to you,” his roommate said, but his voice dragged with reluctance.
Concern for his friend tugged at Kent. “Is it life or death?” he asked.
Billy shook his head.
“Then it’s going to have to wait. There’s someone else I need to talk to right now.” Not that he expected her to listen.
ERIN PACED THE FLOOR between her living room and the small foyer, stepping over toys and books. She should have asked Billy where he and Kent lived. She could have gone over to see him, because she doubted he would come to see her, not after hanging up on her.
But she couldn’t blame him after the way she’d persecuted him in the press. Shame clutched at her, tightening the muscles in her stomach until she felt physically ill. In her defense, she had only been avenging what she had believed was Kent’s injustice against her brother.
She drew to a sudden stop, shocked at her betrayal of her brother. Why should she doubt now what Mitchell had told her? He had never lied to her before. Just because Kent had saved the chief’s life didn’t mean that he hadn’t destroyed her brother’s.
Yet what had been his motive, since he hadn’t wanted the promotion to his desk job? Kent had no reason to frame her brother.
Had she been wrong about everything and everyone?
The bell pealed in the foyer, startling her. She pulled open the door, not entirely surprised that she had been wrong again. “I thought you weren’t coming….”
Chapter Twelve
“I shouldn’t have come,” Kent said. Just seeing her beautiful face drained away his anger, leaving only pain. And desire.
“I’m glad you did,” she countered, but her brown eyes filled with confusion as if she doubted what she claimed, as if she wished he hadn’t. She stepped back and gestured him inside, then closed the door behind him.
Keeping his voice to a whisper, he asked, “Where’s Jason? Is he in bed?”
“He’s at my mom and dad’s,” she replied. “Mom got sick of driving home after dark and brought him back with her tonight. He actually fell asleep over there.”
Kent picked up on the surprise in her voice. “He’s never spent the night before?”
She shook her head. “He usually doesn’t like to be apart from me. I have a struggle just to drop him at school every morning.”
“Separation anxiety.” He closed his eyes, remembering the screaming toddler he’d lifted from his crib four years ago. Kent had taken away Jason’s father, his family. The poor kid hadn’t had Erin then; she’d been in the Peace Corps and out of the country. What about the grandparents—had they been there for the little kid when he’d needed them most? “Isn’t Jason close to your parents?”
She managed a slight smile. “Randall and Kathryn Powell aren’t really comfortable with being grandparents.”
Yeah, he’d picked up on that himself. But he and her mother had agreed to keep their conversation that day from Erin, neither seeing the point in bringing it up since it would only upset her. “Jason is six,” he remembered. “Haven’t they gotten used to him yet?”
“He hasn’t been around them that much,” she explained. “His mother gave him to me only a year ago.”
“She gave him away?”
Erin nodded, her eyes filling with sympathy. “She wasn’t exactly mother-of-the-year material. According to Jason, she dumped him on her parents a lot so she could go out to ‘grown-up’ places. Her parents moved to Florida around the time she got serious about a guy she’d met. He didn’t want to raise another man’s kid, so she signed off her parental rights to Jason.”
“I’d say poor kid, but I think he’s actually lucky.” As angry as Erin made him, he knew she loved her nephew. “He has you now.”
Her eyes glistened with emotion. “I’m the lucky one.”
“What about Jason’s father?” he asked, wondering if she was ready to tell him about Mitchell. Was that why she’d wanted him to come over?
She shook her head. “I didn’t ask you to come over to talk about my family.”
Kent was glad now that he’d shoved the file on her brother into the inside pocket of his jacket. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.
“You.” Her delicate throat moved as she swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“About your column?” He hadn’t expected an apology from her.
Color rushed to her face. “I should apologize for that.”
“But you’re not?”
“You were right, you know,” she said with a sad smile, “about my boss and the mayor.”
His anger dissipated. “So he’s forcing you to keep it negative?”
“Let’s just say he’s encouraging me.” She sighed. “What I’m sorry about is not believing that you’re a hero. Because you are.” She stared up at him, her brown eyes wide with the awe that always annoyed him whenever anyone found out what he’d done for the chief.
He winced, hating that she knew.
“Are you hurting?” she asked, instantly solicitous.
“No,” he said, but he wouldn’t have admitted it even if he still was.
“You were, that day at the school, when you lifted that little girl after the assembly. I saw you grimace. It hurt you to lift her.”
“It was how I twisted, not the lifting,” he explained. “I can still lift weights, still work out….”
“But you can’t do your job—the job you really love.”
If she still believed he was responsible for her brother being behind bars, she would have been happy that he couldn’t. But she wasn’t happy.
“I’m fine.” Yet he had some concern that he wasn’t—that the bullet was shifting or that scar tissue was building up on his nerves. He would have to take the chief’s advice and see another specialist soon.
“You’re a hero,” she repeated with a breathy sigh.
“Stop saying that. I’m not,” he insisted, irritation fraying his patience. “I didn’t do anything that anyone else in the department wouldn’t have done.”
“But they didn’t step in front of that bullet,” she said. “You did.”
“It was reflex,” he said dismissively. “Nothing more.”
“Why won’t you take credit for it?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
He raised his brows. “Would you have believed me?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “I would have figured you’d made it up to impress me, to get me to change my mind about you.”
“So why do you believe it now?” he asked.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Who gave me up?” Then he nodded, understanding his housemate’s sudden necessity to talk. �
�Billy.”
She smiled. “Don’t be mad at him. He’s a good friend to you.”
Kent sighed. “Yeah. So you trust Billy but not me?”
“I might have believed you if you told me now,” she said.
“So you’re beginning to trust me? Enough to ask your free question and trust that I’ll give you a truthful answer?”
She hesitated just long enough to reveal her feelings.
“You’re never going to trust me.” It wouldn’t matter if he showed her the file. She would never believe him over her brother. He turned for the door.
She caught his arm, holding him back. “I’m trying, Kent. I want to believe you.”
To believe him, though, she would have to doubt her brother, and she was too loyal for that. He expelled a ragged sigh of frustration.
“This is impossible,” he said, turning back to her. “Despite all this, I can’t stop wanting you.”
“I want you, too.”
Dread curled in his stomach. He’d had the groupies like that college girl in the CPA, who had pursued him once they’d found out about the shooting. “Would you want me if you didn’t know about the bullet?”
She laughed. “I kissed you—twice—before I found out about it.”
“So kiss me again,” he urged her.
ERIN SHIVERED in anticipation as she lifted one hand to the nape of Kent’s neck. Her fingers delved into his soft blond hair, pulling his head down to hers. She rose on tiptoe and slanted her mouth across his.
His arms circled her, dragging her close against him. Her breasts molded to the hard muscles of his chest. Yet they weren’t close enough—too many layers of clothing separated them.
She opened her mouth to deepen their kiss, to invite him inside. His tongue stroked across her bottom lip, in and out. Passion built inside her, burning low in her stomach. “Kent…”
He eased away, his hands sliding up her back to her shoulders, then he gently cupped her face in his palms. “Erin, are you sure?”
Need overwhelmed her, trivializing her doubts, and she nodded. She covered his hands with hers and pulled them away from her face. Entwining their fingers, she tugged him toward the hall. Walking backward, she missed Jason’s toy car until the hard plastic bit into the sole of her bare foot. She stumbled, but Kent grabbed her.
