by Lori Ryan
“You got Sevier,” he said, knowing it would be the desk sergeant calling. The phone was only used for the desk sergeant or for someone in the evidence lab to reach them, and the rings were different to show where the call was coming from.
Anyone else wanting to reach them would have called one of their cell phones.
“Hey John,” the desk sergeant said. “You got a guy coming up with an escort. Says he’s Trenton Doyle’s brother.”
“Thanks.” The word barely left his mouth before he hung up. He was moving toward the door as he filled in the others. “Doyle’s brother is on his way up.”
John and Eric headed to the hallway.
“Think the brother is the leader?” Eric asked.
“Possible.”
They stopped and waited in front of the elevator. They could hear shouting from within before the elevator doors opened.
The scene in front of them wasn’t a good one.
John barely had time to register that the brother was yelling something about them having no right to talk to Trenton. The patrol officer escorting the brother looked too damned young to be in a uniform, and his posture said he was anything but in control in that elevator.
The man shared similar coloring with Trenton, but the resemblance seemed to end there. He was bulky where Trenton was thin. He was also confident, cocky, and in your face. A lot like the bank robber they’d seen on video who shot Officer Hall.
Within seconds, shit slid sideways, and John was looking at a fight in the elevator. He didn’t know if Trenton’s brother was going for the rookie’s weapon or just what the guy’s end game was, but he jumped into the fight without hesitation.
There was a shout behind him, and Eric was there, as well as Connie.
He wrestled with the large man, not sure where his hands had gone, but knowing if they didn’t get him secured quickly, the fight could end with one or more of them dead. John braced himself on the side of the elevator and shoved the brother, forcing him off the officer beneath him. Eric was there, grabbing one of the guy’s arms as John went for the other, but the man was strong, and he flipped, now lashing out at all of them, seemingly without any purpose other than to make it out that elevator and to his brother.
In the melee, as they fought to secure Trenton Doyle’s brother, John felt shooting electric pain up his left wrist when someone landed on him as he pinned the brother to the floor of the elevator. He grunted and grit his teeth. He didn’t know if the uniformed cop had gotten out of the way with his weapon still in his holster or not. He didn’t know what they’d be facing if this man made it up and out the door.
They used Level 4 holsters, so the chances were good that this guy hadn’t known that he’d need to unsnap the holster and press a small latch that would release the weapon from the leather sheath, but John wasn’t taking a chance on it. Eric was there, beside John, pinning the asshole to the floor with him.
“You see his hands?” John asked. “Anyone got his hands?”
“I got ‘em.” Eric shifted, and John could see that he had the brother’s empty hands together behind his back. Gerald came in and handcuffed them, helping to lift the still-cursing man off the elevator floor.
“Jesus,” Connie breathed out. He had a cut over his right eye and a bruise forming on the same side of his jaw that said he’d taken a few good hits in that brawl.
The rookie uniform who’d lost control of the guy in the first place looked like he might puke.
John understood it.
Eric and Gerald were hauling the brother down to one of the other interrogation rooms. If he didn’t settle his ass in a chair though, they’d bring him down to one of the holding cells on the level below them.
John swore as he lifted his hand. The swelling had already begun in his wrist, and he could feel the heat in it as he raised it to his chest, holding it there with his other hand. Someone handed him an instant ice pack and a towel just as Rhys and Mason came out of their interrogation room.
“What the hell was all that?” Rhys asked. The interrogation rooms weren’t soundproof. They would have heard some of that, at least, from within the room.
“Trenton Doyle’s brother is here,” John said. His wrist was swelling. He didn’t need to be told it was most likely sprained. He put the ice on it and watched as Connie was patched up. They would get the elevator video and charge the brother with a few counts of felony assault on a peace officer.
“Went after his escort’s firearm,” Connie said. One of the other detectives was putting butterfly bandages on the cut over his eye.
John was trying damned hard to ignore the pain in his wrist and immobilize his left arm against his body as he iced it.
The doors to the other elevator slid open, and Captain Scanlon came out, one hand on her holstered weapon and two uniformed officers behind her. She looked around and then relaxed, speaking over her shoulder.
“Let the guys huffing it up the stairs know they can stand down.”
Before the message could be relayed, the doors at either end of the hallway opened to show several officers looking like their captain had moments before.
The fight in the elevator would have been seen on the video monitors the desk sergeant watched on the first floor. Everyone in the building had likely just shared the nice adrenaline dump they’d all had.
Scanlon didn’t miss John’s arm. Her eyes scanned the rest of them. “Is he secure?”
John nodded as Eric and Gerald came out of the interrogation room. They asked two of the uniformed officers to take over inside the room and joined the group standing in the hallway.
Gerald spoke first. “Rhys, what did Trenton Doyle have to say?”
Rhys shook his head. “He isn’t our guy. He doesn’t have the facts right. Says he and his friends were robbing jewelry stores and Officer Hall came in on that last job, and he shot him. I fed him some misinformation and asked him why he beat him after he shot him, and he said he was pissed he got in their way and messed up the heist, as he put it. Then I asked him why he shot him three times, and he said the same thing. Lost his temper.”
It was a common tactic for weeding out false confessions. If you gave a person details that didn’t match the crime scene, and they confirmed it, you knew they weren’t your real perp.
Eric let loose with a string of curses. “Even if we don’t file on Trenton, his brother’s going to jail for what just happened.”
“What the hell is going on?” Scanlon asked.
Gerald answered. “Trenton’s brother Dylan showed up here. Instead of waiting to be shown to his brother, he started making threats in the elevator, got into a scuffle and went for the officer’s gun. The guy is beside himself with fear for his brother.”
Eric cut in. “Trenton was diagnosed with end stage cancer. His brother thinks his confession is a bid to get himself into prison where he might get some care.”
John cursed. It was something they’d seen before. Not that it was an everyday occurrence, but it happened.
They all looked to the Captain. She shook her head. “Let’s get a counselor down here for Trenton.” They worked with three mental health nonprofit groups in the area to have counselors on call twenty-four-seven. If they needed a therapist at a scene or at the station, they were able to call one in. It was a program they’d started the year before, and it was making a big difference in their city.
“And the brother?” Rhys asked.
The Captain pressed her lips together and looked over the hallway before cutting her eyes to John. “Much as I’d like to cut the guy a break with what he’s going through, I’ve got injured officers. I can’t just let him walk.”
“It’s a sprain, at worst,” John said. It hurt like hell, and the spot where his wrist should have been looked more like a fat seabass than any part of the human anatomy, but he was pretty damned sure it wasn’t a break. He hoped.
“We’ll make sure the prosecuting attorney knows about the circumstances,” the Captain said. “
That’s the most I’m willing to do when someone goes after one of us.”
“Come on,” Eric said, putting a hand on John’s shoulder. “Let’s get you to the ER.”
John groaned. He’d be forced to go home for at least the rest of the day. More than likely, he’d have to sit out a couple of days before he’d be allowed back into the office to work a desk. He wouldn’t be allowed on the street until he was fully healed. He understood it, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t put him in a piss poor mood. All in all, it was turning into a shit day.
Chapter Nineteen
When sleep wouldn’t come, John headed to Ava’s store. He’d been given pain meds by the doctor, but he didn’t bother filling the prescription. Three ibuprofens and the wrap they’d put on him in the emergency room was plenty to deal with the pain. He was told he needed to take at least three days off before they’d let him back to his desk. Three days with a wack job out there attacking jewelry store owners.
Needless to say, he wasn’t doing well with being sidelined.
If he couldn’t work, maybe he could convince Ava to let him be her twenty-four-seven escort. The idea that she and her sister were sitting in a jewelry store like sitting ducks for this guy had him on edge in a bad way.
Her smile when he walked in the door did a lot to lift his mood, but still, he’d feel better if she and her dad agreed to close the store for now.
“What are you doing here?” She gasped when she saw his arm. “What happened?”
He used his good arm to pull her to him when she rushed forward. “Nothing. Scuffle at work.”
He had to admit, he liked the way her eyes searched his face.
“You’re all right? Is it broken?”
Her soft body pressed against him as she leaned into him, and he went rock hard in an instant. Damned if she didn’t take his mind off the job—all the way off the job, the robberies, all of it.
He glanced around the store, which was thankfully empty except for the security guard who had let him in, then leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You need to get us out of sight and in the back now.”
Her eyes went wide, and she nodded.
She led the way through the back, past her sister who grinned and waved at him, and into the office.
“What is it?” She had barely shut the door when he turned her, pressing her up against it, letting her feel what she’d done to him out there.
“You can’t put your hands on me in public like that if you don’t want the whole world seeing what you do to me.”
The look of shock on her face was comical. So were the slaps to his shoulder when she processed what he’d said.
“I thought you were bringing me back here to tell me what happened to you, not to …” she stopped, a pink flush hitting her cheeks. “Not to … you know.”
“Not to do this,” he said, lowering his head to her neck. He knew what spot would get her going and headed straight for it. He ran his mouth over the silken skin at her neck, then nipped lightly, loving the soft sound that escaped her lips.
He wanted to lift her onto the desk and pull open her blouse. He wanted to get his hands and his mouth on her small breasts, suckling until she cried out and wrapped her legs around him.
The pain that hit him when his bad arm brushed up against her side was sharp and unforgiving, pulling him from that haze that had taken over as soon as he’d gotten her into the small room.
He hissed and stepped backward.
Ava smirked. “You deserve it. You’re horrible, getting me back here under false pretenses.”
John stepped forward again, unable to resist. “You like my false pretenses,” he said, reaching again with his good arm.
She laughed, but this time she held him at arm’s length. “Tell me what happened to your arm.”
He shook his head. “I wrestled with a guy. He’s in cuffs, I’m here.”
“But you’re okay?” She said, her eyes scanning his body again.
Damn, he wished that was her hands checking over him.
“I am. And I also get to stay here with you and take you to dinner when you close up.” He was desperate to take a make lemonade tac here.
She looked at her watch and raised her brows. “That’s two hours from now.”
“Not a problem. I’ve got nothing to do.” He nodded toward the computer monitor in the corner that showed the three video angles for her security cameras in the showroom. “I’ll watch you work and help you when it’s time to close up.”
She took and held a deep breath as she looked around the office, before letting it out. “I just convinced my dad to stay at home. He’s been standing guard over us every day for the last week. I ended up having to worry about Janna and him, both. I’m trying to get Janna to stay home, but she’s too stressed at the idea of me being here while she stays home.”
John softened and reached his good hand up to massage the tension in her shoulder. “I’m not your dad. You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
She looked at his bandaged wrist.
“Watch it, woman. You’ll damage my sensitive male ego.”
The laugh she gave him washed over him.
There was a knock on the door. John leaned down and caught her mouth with his, stealing a quick, deep kiss that would have to tide them over until he could get her home.
The dazed look on her face when he pulled away from her made him grin. John leaned past her and opened the office door.
“Sorry, Ava. One of the accountant guys is here,” one of the store salesmen John recognized from his last visit said.
“The accountant guys?” John asked.
Ava thanked the messenger and turned back to John. “A few guys that rent an office in one of the buildings here. Sweet guys. They started an accounting company together, but I’m afraid it’s not going well. I’d love to give them some business, but my dad still does our books and he loves having a hand in the business. I don’t feel like I can take that away from him.”
John scowled at the computer monitor where one of the cameras showed a young man in an ill-fitting business suit pacing the length of one of the display cases. “Is he bothering you? If he’s coming in to pressure you—”
Ava shoved him. “Leave him alone. Corey’s a sweet kid. He just comes by sometimes to chat and see if I’ve changed my mind.”
Ava left the office, and John lowered himself into her chair, watching the monitors. His scowl deepened when he saw her wrap her arms around the guy in a hug a few minutes later. Punk-ass kid was probably copping a cheap feel.
John growled and raised up out of the chair, before forcing his ass back into it. If he went out there like he wanted to, she’d probably kill him.
Still, when she was still hugging the guy a solid minute later, John didn’t stop himself. This time, he left the office and headed for the showroom floor. Fuck it, he didn’t care if she thought he was a caveman. He didn’t want anyone else touching Ava.
“Not that she really belongs to you,” he grumbled to himself as he walked toward the showroom.
Janna looked up, startled by him. He tried to smile and wave, but it might have seemed more like gnashing of teeth than a smile. Damn, he was fucking this all up.
He slowed and moved over to where Janna was working, looking at the stunning red gems she was working with. He didn’t have to have any knowledge in gemstones to guess they were rubies.
“Rubies?” he asked, quietly.
She shook her head, this time startling him.
“No?”
“Orange sapphires.” She pointed to the stone she was working with. “These ones look more red than orange. I like them that way. I don’t like orange, but I like red orange sapphires.”
John laughed and she looked up at him, a small smile on her lips like she was happy she’d been the one to make it happen.
“They’re pretty,” he offered.
“Ava’s favorite are Cuprite.” She pointed to a deep red stone lying in
a tray of gemstones to her left. The stone was so dark it looked almost like blood, but it was somehow beautiful despite that. “Heart stones,” Janna said, her focus back on her work in front of her. “Ava likes heart stones.”
John made a mental note of the information, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he’d be buying jewelry for Ava. She owned a jewelry store. There would only ever be one reason to buy a woman who owned a jewelry store a piece of jewelry and that wasn’t an occasion that would happen again for him.
Lucia’s words came back to him. What had she meant when she said he deserved to fall in love again? He didn’t have an answer to that question then, and he didn’t have one two hours later when he’d helped Ava and Janna close up the shop.
He was happy to see Ava had instituted a number of precautions. They were keeping the back door locked at all times. The front door was locked, also, and the guard only opened it as clients approached. It gave the guard a few minutes to scan and make sure the people entering the store weren’t hiding masks and weapons anywhere.
Janna had needed a reminder not to take the trash out to the back to the dumpsters. But Ava seemed to be on top of that. She said it was Janna’s job to clear out all the trash bins and bring them out in the back, but they were taking it out on their way out together nowadays, with the guard accompanying them.
John eased his car to a stop in front of Ava’s house and watched as she walked Janna up to the main house. He locked his car and walked down the drive to her place. Tomorrow, he’d get some extra lights and a better lock for her door and spend the morning putting that in before going over to hang out at the jewelry store with her.
He smiled as he walked down the driveway to her apartment. Maybe being off duty for a few days for an injury wasn’t so bad after all.
Ava met him as he got to the door and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Nope. Having time off work wasn’t turning out to be bad at all.
Chapter Twenty
“Do you want a drink?” Ava asked as she shut the door behind them. She’d eaten dinner before he arrived at the store that night, but maybe he hadn’t. “Or something to eat? Did you have dinner?”
