by Freya Barker
Worried, I peek out the bedroom window, but his truck is still parked in the driveway. He can’t have gone far. The alarm clock on the nightstand shows three forty-five. Fuck, that means we barely had two hours of sleep.
I walk back into the living room and peer out those windows. Nothing is moving in the sparse shine of the streetlights. Finally I head to the back doors off the kitchen.
At first I don’t see anything, but then I hear a strange clacking noise over the hum of the air conditioner. Almost like teeth chattering.
The night is appropriately warm for July as I step outside, carefully closing the slider behind me. I try again to get a bead on the sound, which seems to be coming from the side of the house.
“Dimas?” I softly call out, but get no answer.
I venture down the wooden steps until my bare feet hit the grass. I stop again to listen. Yes, definitely from around the side. There’s a thin cloud cover and the barely visible moon gives off a faint light. Just enough to safely find my way around the corner of the house.
I don’t spot him right away, curled up with his back wedged between the AC unit and the concrete foundation. His knees are pulled up to his chest, circled by his arms, and his head hangs down. I take a few steps closer and note his entire body seems to be shaking.
“Dimas?”
I crouch in front of him and reach out, touching his arm lightly.
It’s like a spring uncoils as he flings out both arms, one catching me on the jaw and knocking me back on my ass.
Shit.
I push up to see he’s semi-crouched, his unseeing eyes darting around, looking for what I assume is the enemy still haunting him. I’m not sure what to do. I recognize the absence of the here and now in his face, similar to how Brad presented earlier this week, except Dimas seems further gone.
I stay where I am, but curl up tight, much like he was earlier, hoping to be less threatening this way. Then I start talking, softly.
“I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”
It’s a phrase I repeat again and again. The rest of the time I talk mostly nonsense, about his house, how much I like it. About the tacos we had for dinner, and Britt’s stories about her beloved dog. I talk about the things I smell, the fresh cut grass from next door and a faint scent of honeysuckle. I talk about anything that comes to mind, regularly repeating how I’m right here to stay.
I have no clue how long we sit here, but my voice is hoarse and dry from talking so much. The chattering of his teeth and the shaking seem to have subsided and—knowing I’m taking a risk—I reach out once again, this time gingerly touching his knee.
“Dimas?”
His eyes blink and he takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding it all this time. He sinks back on his butt.
“Willa?” The moment I hear him say my name I scoot closer, as close as I can, and press myself against him. “What…?”
“It’s okay,” I mumble, putting a hand on his chest. His heart is beating a staccato under my palm. “We’re at your house and everyone is fine.”
“Did I…? Was I…?”
“Shhh,” I press a kiss to his chest and push myself to my feet, grabbing his hand and pulling him up with me. “It’s still early. Let’s get some sleep.”
I don’t look back when I lead the way up the steps and into the house, but his fingers tightly grip my own.
“Couch or bed?” I ask when he stops at the edge of the living room, looking at Britt’s sleeping form.
“Couch,” he answers, sitting down on the edge.
I kneel down in front of him and roll up the track pants he changed into earlier, unstrapping his prosthesis and putting it aside. I can feel his eyes on me and finally look up. They show a world of uncertainty I want to take away.
“Lie back.”
His gaze is locked on me as he lowers himself slowly. I lie down, half on top of him, and kiss him softly on the mouth. He shifts slightly so we’re both on our side, face-to-face. I run the tips of my fingers over the frown on his forehead and down his cheek, before pressing my face against his chest.
“Sleep, my love. I’m right here.”
His arms close around me as I listen to his heart slow to a regular beat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dimas
I can’t stop looking at her.
That bruise along her jaw—I did that. Fuck.
She’s smiling, twisted in around so she can talk to Britt in the back seat. She doesn’t look like it’s bothering her, and she reassured me about ten times she was fine, but that doesn’t negate the fact it was my fist causing the blue mark on her face.
The thought makes me sick. Had it been any harder, I could have broken her jaw.
Jesus.
“Hey,” her voice is as soft as her hand stroking my arm is. I glance over and catch a glimpse of concern in her eyes. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we still going to talk to Steve after?” Britt asks from the back seat.
“We will, honey, but it may not be today,” Willa explains.
We’re on our way to the PASS office to sign our police statements. It had been Bree’s idea. She’d been over this morning to check up on us, when I got a call from Chief Underwood. He wanted us to come to the station, but Willa didn’t feel comfortable leaving her niece. Understandable after last night, but I also suspect she’s not eager to head back to the police station. Her last experience hadn’t exactly been a good one. Bree suggested we could come to the office so Britt could hang out with her, while we were next door in the conference room dealing with the statements. Underwood agreed to meet us there.
It seemed to be a foregone conclusion none of us would go in to work today, not with the shooter still out there. Last night, when Yanis traded vehicles with me—I’m driving his Yukon—he mentioned he’d also be putting both Shep and Kai on my house. I’m glad I didn’t argue with him, not after what happened early this morning. The thought I might’ve left Willa and Britt unprotected eats at me.
I glance in the rearview mirror to see Kai behind me in his pickup.
“What do you do, Dimi?” Britt asks, leaning forward between the two front seats. She started using the name everyone calls me, except Willa.
“I’m a security specialist. You met my brother last night, Yanis? I work for him. We’re hired to protect people or companies, either with technical support or in person.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
I smile at the excitement in her voice. If only she knew how utterly boring our line of work can be a lot of the time.
“Sometimes, yes, but we spend a lot of time behind a desk as well.”
“Oh.” She seems disappointed.
“And even when we are protecting a person or people, it’s really not as exciting as it may sound.”
“You’re good at it, though.” I glance over and she’s looking at me with tears welling in her eyes. “You kept us safe last night.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I say nothing, shooting her a wink instead.
“He sure did.” My eyes meet Willa’s over her niece’s head.
“Is he coming back?” Britt’s voice wobbles when she asks the question.
She’s been as tough as her aunt, waking up this morning on my couch and acting like it was a normal morning after a normal night, when it had been everything but. How ironic, the one person who’s supposed to be used to getting shot at was the only one losing it.
“It doesn’t matter if he does, Short Stack, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or your aunt.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t sound very convinced as she sits back in her seat.
When I pull around the office building to the back, I see one of the bay doors was left open and I drive right inside. Radar must have his eye on the monitor, because the moment Kai’s truck clears the door, it immediately closes behind us.
I turn off the engine and get out of the SUV, opening the back door for the young girl w
ho hops down easily.
“Britt?” She looks up and I bend closer, placing a hand on her narrow shoulder. “I promise.”
Her “Okay” this time sounds a little firmer.
I introduce Kai to the girls and have to send the tall Scandinavian a warning glare when he’s a little too charming with Willa.
“That was priceless,” Jake says, pulling me aside when we walk into the bullpen.
“What?”
“Watched you on the monitor, brother. If looks could kill, Kai would’ve been down. You used to bust my balls all the time about being territorial with Rosie. I’m gonna fucking enjoy busting yours,” he says with a wide grin, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Asshole,” I mutter, as I watch Bree walk up to Willa and Britt, the girl still not moving very far from her aunt’s side. Jake’s chuckle is annoying.
“Check in with Radar, he’s got something to show you.”
I stick my head into Radar’s office where he’s glued to his three computer screens, as usual.
“You have something?”
“Yeah. Come in.” I take a seat across from him and he slides two sheets of paper across the desk. “Left is Bergland’s savings, right is Craig’s checking account. Check Bergland’s first.”
Highlighted on the sheet is a fifteen thousand dollar deposit and a few days after a withdrawal of five thousand.
“What am I looking at?”
“Bergland has a pattern; when his biweekly pay comes in, he withdraws two hundred dollars in cash, nothing more until the next deposit. I’ve gone back six months and it’s always the same. In between he seems to use his debit or credit card. Check the date on that large deposit?”
“That’s the day Arthur Hicks was found.”
“Exactly. Now look at the date on the large withdrawal and compare it to Craig’s account. He pulls money out of his account almost daily, but he hasn’t made a single cash withdrawal since that day.”
Yanis sticks his head into the office.
“Underwood is here.”
“Coming.” I get up and grab the sheets. “Can I keep these?”
“You gonna tell him?”
“I’ll take full responsibility for the hacking, but yeah. Those two are dirty as fuck.”
I walk over to Willa, who is leaning a hip on Bree’s desk, while Britt is on the other side, giggling at something Bree is pointing out on the computer screen. I take Willa’s hand, ruffle the girl’s hair, and head to the conference room where Chief Underwood is already waiting.
“I have some good news,” he says, when we sit down at the big table. “State Patrol picked up Brantley Parker earlier today near Montrose. He’ll be transported back here tomorrow.”
I feel a weight lift off my shoulders.
“That is good news. I have some news as well, but I’m thinking you won’t be happy with this.”
I slide the printouts across the table and explain what he’s looking at. He studies the papers and looks to have aged a few years when he finally looks up, shaking his head.
“Do I wanna know how you got this?”
“Probably not.”
He stares at me across the table, then turns his eyes on Yanis, who looks back straight-faced.
“Shit. I can’t use this to call the Internal Affairs Unit in. I can’t use this to get a warrant to dig into the source of that payment.”
“We can,” Yanis answers calmly. “We’ll find you something you can use.”
Underwood runs a hand through his hair and groans.
“You know you’re breaking the law, right?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Yanis responds casually. “In the end, we’re all about getting the bad guys. This office can afford to be a little more creative with the interpretation of law than yours can. That’s all.”
The police chief looks from Yanis to me, and finally Willa, giving her an apologetic smile.
“I apologize for what happened to you under my command. I promise you this case will have my personal focus until we have it resolved.”
Willa nods, and Underwood turns his eyes on me, shoving the papers back in my direction.
“You bring me something usable and in the meantime, I’ve never seen these.”
Willa
Britt darts back to the kennels the moment we walk into the animal shelter. Steve stands up from behind the front desk, grinning after her.
“Sorry she missed today.”
His face turns serious when he looks at me.
“God, don’t worry about it. Bree told me what happened last night. I couldn’t believe it. Are you all okay?”
“We’re fine,” Dimas rumbles from behind me. “Everything should be back to normal after the weekend.”
I twist my neck to look back at him. I sure hope what he says is true, and I’m not just talking about people taking potshots at us. Something’s changed. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but from the moment we got up this morning something is off with him. I know why—that doesn’t take a genius to figure out—but the few times I probed today I was either shut down in a hurry or ignored.
“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about adopting a dog,” I explain to Steve. “What would be required?”
“That’s awesome. Did you have a dog in mind or do you want to have a look first?”
“I think my niece would disown me if I even thought about adopting any other dog than Twister.”
“Really?” His face breaks open in a huge smile. “Can’t tell you how happy that makes me. She’s been here far too long. People can’t seem to look beyond her exterior to see what a great pet she’d make. I’ve even taken her home on occasion over the weekends. I always feel so bad when other animals come and go, but she’s never chosen.”
Okay, now I feel even guiltier for thinking the pup is ugly.
For the next twenty minutes he explains what the adoption entails, having me fill out forms as we go, and when my last signature is on paper, asks me if I’d like to take her home right away.
“Actually, that might have to wait until next week.” I wince when I inform him. “There was some damage to my place that is getting fixed over the weekend, so we’re temporarily out of a house.”
“Why?” Dimas’s tone is unexpectedly abrupt and directed at me. “Think I can’t handle a dog?”
Whoa.
Luckily for him, Britt comes barreling through the door, or I would’ve given him a piece of my mind. I know he feels shaky after last night and that’s fine. It’s not an excuse to snap at me over words he’s putting in my mouth.
Instead I smile at my niece a little too brightly before turning to Steve.
“Do you have everything we need here?” I ask. “Food? Leash? That kinda stuff?”
“Ohmygawd! We’re getting her?” Britt’s high pitch has me plug my ears.
“Settle the hell down,” Dimas grumps behind me, and I turn my entire body to face him, giving him my most dirty look. If he starts projecting his mood on my niece, we’ve got big problems. He stares back with a blank expression.
“Come on, Britt,” I hear Steve say behind me. “Let’s find Twister a leash.”
I hear the door slam shut behind me and poke my index finger in his chest.
“No. You don’t talk to me, or to Britt like that. I won’t have it.” His eyes immediately lower to the tips of his boots, so I know he gets me. Then I push at that small sign of remorse. “I know something happened between last night and this morning, and I was going to leave it alone, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m not okay being a lightning rod when no one warned me there’s a storm brewing.”
“Sweetheart, I—”
“They have a red one!” Britt squeals, waving a leash and collar around.
“Honey, I know you’re happy but you’ve gotta turn down the volume, I think you just pierced my eardrum.”
She immediately winces and I see her eyes dart over my head.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Don�
��t be, I’m glad you’re so excited. Now how about you go find Twister and get her gussied up with that collar, and I’ll settle up with Steve.”
“No one says gussied up anymore, Auntie Will. It’s blinged out.” Educating me with that nugget of wisdom, she darts back to the kennels.
Ten minutes later, Twister’s head is hanging over the back of the driver’s seat, drool dripping on Dimas’s shirt, and I’d swear that dog is smiling. Dimas is not, but he’s not pushing Twister back either.
Britt—over the peak of her excitement for now—is surprisingly quiet in the back. When I turn to check on her, though, she’s looking out of the side window, a big goofy smile on her face.
“Happy?” I ask, sticking my face between the headrest and the doorframe. She nods her head so hard, her hair falls in her face. “Good. Now guess who’s gonna be responsible for scooping the poop from the backyard?”
I laugh out loud when her smile disappears and is replaced with a grimace of sheer disgust.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Not even a little.”
“Gross!”
I straighten in my seat and glance over at Dimas and notice the corner of his mouth twitching, but he still won’t look at me. That’s fine; he won’t be able to avoid talking to me for long.
Except when we get to his house, he opens the door and waves us inside.
“I just need a word with Kai,” he says, pulling the door shut behind us.
Kai is the tall, Scandinavian guy he introduced us to at the PASS office. And when I say tall, I mean tall. Hell, Dimas is probably around six four, but this guy is even taller. Like, basketball player tall.
Britt and I get Twister’s stuff sorted in the kitchen, getting her a bowl of water and one with kibble, while the dog runs through the house, sniffing everything her nose can reach. Including Dimas’s crotch when he comes in the door.
“Down, Twister.” His deep voice apparently makes an impression. The dog takes a few steps back and sits right down. “Kai is parked in the driveway,” he says to me from the doorway. “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of, and I’ll swing by PetSmart on my way home and pick her up a bed. Anything else she needs?”
