The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  The doctor did a thorough check. “Let’s poke him a bit.” Her voice was still upbeat. But when she pushed on Wendy’s belly, the baby didn’t move in response. She tried a few more times. Stopped.

  “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head.

  Joe could hear the words, heard Wendy catch her breath, but then for a moment it was as if he’d gone deaf and blind. The world stopped. The little room with its smell of disinfectant and stainless steel counter seemed to drop, drop, drop, like a speed elevator crashing, falling to hell.

  On the bed, Wendy was blinking hard, staring at the monitor.

  When he could hear again, he heard the doctor say, “Let me check for dilation. I need you to put on a gown.” She pulled a green examining gown from the top cabinet, set it on the chair, and stepped outside.

  “Can I stay?” Joe asked, as Wendy said, “Please don’t leave,” in a small voice that broke his heart into a million little pieces.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He helped her change, stayed with her as the doctor came back in and performed an examination.

  “Dilated to one centimeter.”

  Joe kept holding Wendy’s hand. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m sending you over to the hospital.”

  And then came the hardest, darkest hours of his life.

  He stood by Wendy as their baby went to heaven, then he took Wendy home, carried her upstairs. She climbed into bed, curling her body around Justin.

  “I just need sleep,” she said, her voice filled with grief.

  He hesitated in the doorway. He wanted to go and lie down next to her and fold her into his arms, but he didn’t deserve comfort from her. This was his fault. He’d let Keith get to her. So he padded downstairs where Sophie and Peaches waited.

  Sophie came to him and gave him a big hug, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” Words couldn’t express how sorry he was.

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  He shook his head. “Thank you for taking care of Justin. I think Wendy will sleep now. They gave her drugs at the hospital. Maybe you could come by tomorrow.” He hesitated. “To offer feminine support.” He made a helpless gesture with his hands. “I’m not sure what to do.”

  Sophie gave him a sad smile, an even sadder look in her red-streaked eyes. “You’re giving her exactly what she needs. Protection and support.”

  “I didn’t protect her yesterday.” The knowledge of that was a knife in his heart.

  “Nobody could have known that Keith would come here. You had Mike watching the house.”

  It didn’t matter. Wendy had been hurt. The baby was lost. He couldn’t forgive himself that.

  * * *

  Wendy rose from bed for breakfast. Justin needed his mother, so she couldn’t give in to her grief. She’d been too weak for too long. Never again.

  “How are you this morning?” Joe asked when she went downstairs.

  “I’m okay.”

  He nodded, his expression closed. “Off to work. I’ll see you later.”

  Chase replaced him on guard duty that first day, Harper on the second, then Mike again, then Jack, Broslin PD rotating through the house while Joe was off, hunting for Keith.

  He barely came home to sleep.

  Amber and Sophie stopped by every single day.

  Wendy did her best to keep her regular routine. She had to sneak doing laundry, or Sophie and Amber wouldn’t have let her. She played with Justin and took care of him. When Justin napped, she worked on editing some more stock images and preparing them for uploading.

  On the fifth day, when Cecilia’s Broslin Boutique called about the window display design, Mike, on guard duty again, drove Wendy and Justin over. Wendy did the display to Cecilia’s delight and praise, and received a nice check. When Cecilia asked if she could pass Wendy’s name around, Wendy told her that’d be great.

  Life had to go on. She had to be strong.

  But her heart ached with an unending pain for the baby she would never get to hold in her arms. And she missed the tenuous connection that had built between her and Joe. He avoided her now—another layer of hurt.

  He probably blamed her. Why wouldn’t he?

  She was the one who’d let things get this out of control with Keith. She could have, should have left him sooner. Stood up to him. Got him out of her life for good before the violence ever progressed this far.

  Joe probably hated her, but he was too polite, too nice a guy to say it. His ex-fiancée had pretended to be having his child and then pretended to lose it. Now Wendy had lost his baby for real. She didn’t know how to apologize for that. What words could she possibly say?

  The week passed, a long dark slog through dreary days with freezing rain. Winter was coming back, Amber complained. She brought Max over every day to play.

  The following week, Wendy got a little more work done. Sophie had finished her website. The car insurance company called. They’d processed her paperwork. By the end of the week, she received a check in the mail and Bing took her to pick out a car. She chose what she had before, a three-year-old Prius. Justin picked the color: toy-car red.

  Her conversations with Joe remained limited to polite inquiries after each other’s well-being in the evening when he got home from work. The stitches had been removed from the cut on his face. The scar remained and made him look a couple of years older. His easy grins had disappeared.

  He usually left so early in the morning that she never saw him leave. She’d come downstairs and a different officer would be sitting in the living room, wishing her good morning.

  Joe did take time to play with Justin, though, during the little time he was home. On one hand, she was grateful for that, because Justin worshipped him. On the other hand, she was worried that when they left—Keith would be caught eventually and it would be safe to return home—Justin’s little heart would be broken when his all-important friendship with Joe ended.

  She checked in with her parents once a week as usual. Didn’t mention the baby. She could see no reason to break their hearts.

  When her checkup appointment came around the following week, she mentioned it to Joe. He offered to take time off from work to drive her. She thanked him for the offer but chose to go with Sophie.

  She was pronounced physically recovered from the miscarriage and reassured that what happened shouldn’t prevent a healthy pregnancy in the future. She barely heard the words.

  * * *

  They were like two ghosts haunting the same house, Joe thought. The only burst of life energy was Justin. The little boy kept them both going. Because of him, they had to pretend to be all right, so they did.

  The early spring chills finally gave way to warmer weather, the flowers and trees in full bloom, tulips and daffodils giving their last hurrah on the front lawns. But even the beauty of spring couldn’t bridge the gorge that had opened up between Joe and Wendy. If anything, the distance seemed to grow each day. He wanted, badly, to reach out. He didn’t know how.

  He wasn’t used to letting people down.

  Yet he was letting Wendy down now, somehow, day after day.

  “What do I do?” he asked Amber over the phone. “I didn’t protect her.”

  “Just be there for her,” his sister advised, without any smart-alecky comments for once. “Just be there and love her.”

  And he loved Wendy, Joe realized, too late. He loved Wendy, and she was never going to forgive him.

  He threw himself into work. Harper’s father had a heart attack and the family spent their days by his side at the hospital. Since Harper was taking leave, the captain officially assigned the Brogevich case to Joe. He worked on that. He also ran down every new lead on Keith. Then he ran down every shadow of a lead. Nothing. The bastard had disappeared from the face of the earth.

  So Joe dragged out everything he had and printed what he could, carried the foot-tall stack into the conference room, and laid it all on the table. He took a mug
and a full pot of coffee in there with him. He wasn’t going to leave until he found something.

  He read through every page, grouping related items together. The only thing that stuck out was the HR report on the incident when Keith had lost his temper at work.

  Keith Kline had been advised to take an anger management workshop. He had accepted the recommendation and completed anger management training, according to the update scribbled on the bottom of the page.

  Joe picked the paper up, then set it down again. More than likely it only jumped out at him because it reminded him that he’d come to a dead end with Phil’s case.

  Joe picked up the paper again. Could Keith have been attending Phil’s anger management classes in West Chester?

  It didn’t seem probable. Wilmington Hospital was in Keith’s backyard, then Christiana Care hospital a few miles away. Traveling to West Chester would have been cumbersome and inconvenient, a waste of time.

  And yet…. He kept turning that thought around in his head on the way home, interrupted only by a call from Chief Gleason.

  “I wanted to let you know I requested that you’d be awarded a commendation,” the chief said. “You’ve gone above and beyond helping me. I won’t forget that.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “If there’s anything I can ever do for you, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Just a question.” Something Joe had been thinking about. “What happens to Gomez’s aunt now?”

  “She’s been referred to a senior living facility by Social Services. She needs more help than what she’s been getting. Medical supervision.”

  “Do you know, by any chance, where she is?”

  “I can find out for you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He thought he might visit the old woman someday, even if he’d never met her before, for Lil’ Gomez’s sake. “I don’t suppose you have any information about Trigger?”

  The chief cleared his throat. “Damn mutt ate my recliner. I took him home, just until somebody claims him. Nobody’s stepping forward, and now the kids and the wife won’t let that scourge of God go for anything. I don’t want to talk about that dog.”

  “No, sir.”

  The chief’s update put Joe in a better mood as he drove home. He found Wendy in the living room with Justin and Mike. Mike was on his hands and knees, Justin riding him like a freaking pony.

  “What do you call a pig that knows karate?” Mike asked.

  “I know karate!” Justin attacked the air.

  “A pork chop,” Mike said.

  Justin giggled. “Mom, it’s a pork chop!” Then he spotted Joe. “What’s the name of the pig who does karate?”

  “Karate Pig?”

  “Pork chop!” Justin giggled.

  Wendy stood up and walked toward Joe, the same uncertain look on her face that she’d worn for the last couple of weeks. “Your dinner is on the table.”

  “You don’t have to take care of me.” He didn’t want to give her extra work.

  But she recoiled, as if he’d offended her. Since they’d lost the baby, he never seemed to say the right thing.

  Mike came up. “Anything exciting at work?”

  “Thanks for being here.” Joe nodded at him. “Slow day at the station. Robin gave Leila a charm bracelet to clear up her aura. That almost turned into something, but pretty calm otherwise.”

  Mike grinned. Shook his head. “There’s going to be a cat fight. Is it wrong to wish for it?”

  “Only if someone breaks a hip.”

  “Hey, an old woman and a cat walk into a bar—”

  Joe held up his index finger. “You continue that and I’ll tell Leila and Robin that you’re telling old-woman jokes. I’m thinking having a common enemy would bring them together.”

  Mike held up a different finger but laughed as he left, calling back a good night to Wendy and Justin.

  Since Wendy had already gone back to her son, Joe sat down by his plate on the kitchen table. Beef stew. Pretty damn good too. He ate, then cleaned up after himself, walked into the living room, and thanked her. He played with Justin for a while before the boy had to go upstairs for his bath and bedtime.

  While Wendy handled that, Joe dragged the hospital file boxes from under the couch and began going through them again. He was looking for one specific signature this time: Keith Kline.

  People were supposed to print their names, then sign, but only about half of them followed instructions. Out of those, half had handwriting so bad that even the printed name was undecipherable.

  He called the captain to check in while he combed through signatures. But Bing had nothing new on Keith or on the Brogevich case.

  “How’s Wendy?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Guys didn’t talk about their feelings, right? But then Joe said something anyway. “I don’t know how to reach her. I messed up with her, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “I did that with Sophie,” the captain said. “Here’s the thing. When it comes to women, men can be stupider than dirt. With Sophie, I was stupider than dirt under a toad’s toenails. She forgave me anyway.” He paused. “The most important thing is to talk to her.”

  “Yeah.”

  The captain told him to talk to her, Amber told him to show her that he loved her. He used to be so good with romance, Joe thought as they hung up. Except now when it came to Wendy. Hell of a thing was, Wendy was the only woman who ever truly mattered.

  He was still working on the first box, and getting more frustrated by the minute, when she came back down.

  She’d lost weight. She’d always been slim, but now she looked downright thin. He was worried about her.

  “Mind if I watch a little TV?” she asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  She settled in and pulled a blanket over herself as she glanced at his stack of papers. “I thought police work was all chases and excitement.”

  “That’s how we get suckered in. Nobody tells you that most of it is mind-numbing paperwork.”

  She flipped through the channels, picked some cooking show, and turned it way down, probably so she wouldn’t disturb him. She glanced toward him. “I’m sorry we’ve taken over your house. I’m sure you didn’t expect us to stay this long.”

  “I want you here.”

  That had her eyes widen. “Why?”

  Strategy was for football. When you loved a woman, you laid your cards on the table. Another morsel of wisdom from Amber. In case his little sister had that right, Joe put down the paper in his hand and held Wendy’s gaze. “Because I’m falling in love with you.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “And to think that I used to be known for my impeccable timing.”

  She stared at him. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who lost the baby.”

  “I’m not looking for a baby-making machine.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was looking for anything. And then you came along.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it.”

  “Can you forgive me?”

  “I already told you none of this was your fault. If anyone’s, it was mine.” He moved over to her and took her hands. God, just being able to hold her hands again meant more to him than all the other women he’d dated before put together.

  “I’d like to kiss you.” He asked for permission, like that first time.

  She looked as torn as she had back then. But, after a moment, she leaned toward him.

  He pulled her into his lap, his arms around her. He wasn’t ever going to let her go, he promised himself, and then he brushed a kiss over her lips.

  “I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “I missed you too.”

  “I know you want time to yourself to figure out what you want.” He nibbled. “I’m not going to push.”

  “Okay.” She kissed him back.

  “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t know how to handle it,” he said after a long moment. “This never happened to me before. I d
on’t know how to do this.”

  “That must hurt the ego,” she joked with him.

  “Yes, it does. I’m used to being good at things.”

  “You’re doing fine.” She pressed her lips against his again.

  Yes, that was more than fine. He took it from there. Hell, he had the ball. If he knew one thing, it was how to run with it. The knowledge that he could have lost her along with the baby gave a whole new layer of emotion to the kiss.

  Some woman on TV rambled on about crème brȗlée, but the words never connected into a sentence in his head, his thoughts and feelings lost in Wendy.

  Her arms went around his neck as she held on to him.

  His right hand snuck up her rib cage, stopped under her breast, hesitated. She shifted, and her breast slid into his waiting palm. Had he ever thought that she wasn’t stacked? Who would even want that? She was perfect.

  He ran his questing fingers over her, going hard as her nipple pebbled under his touch.

  He could barely pull away long enough to say, “Hold on.” And then he went for the hem of her nightgown and gently eased it up, running his fingers along warm flesh, dragging the material over her head.

  He anchored her by holding on to her hip and leaned forward to claim her nipple with his lips.

  She was it. This was what Amber had had with Daryl before cancer had taken him, the kind of love Joe couldn’t even understand back then. And now he had it.

  No way was he ever going to lose this. No way.

  He laved her nipple, tasting her, breathing in her scent, wanting her more than he’d ever thought possible to want a woman. She ran her fingers through his hair, held him to her, her head falling back, her neck bared for him. He traveled up with a row of kisses, then back again, then eased her down onto the couch and settled himself between her legs.

  He kissed one nipple thoroughly, then the other, moved lower, her slim fingers in his hair.

  But then her hands went still. “Joe.”

  He kept kissing his way down.

  “Wait.”

  He stopped. Too fast. He looked up. He’d promised not to push her.