by Ranae Rose
Now it was her turn to frown. “What are you doing out here? It’s three in the morning.”
“Heard a noise.”
Her gaze was drawn toward the door, and her heart gave a fast, lurching leap.
“What kind of noise?”
His frown faded halfway. “A couple of horny cats, apparently. Woke me up with their screeching. I was still half asleep and thought there might be some psycho out in the parking lot murdering someone. Realized what I was hearing by the time I got out here, and then…”
He indicated the coffee table.
For the first time, she noticed the Glock lying on its surface. She also noticed that something was missing.
“Where are your crutches?”
* * * * *
“I couldn’t use the crutches and carry a gun at the same time,” Jackson said.
“I didn’t realize you could walk without them already.”
“Turns out I can.”
“Are you sure you should be doing that?”
“I’m fine, Princess.”
Except for his fucking toe. It hurt almost as much as his leg, and that was saying something.
She yawned, pressing the back of a hand against her mouth. “If you’re fine, then why do you look so pissed?”
He looked down at himself: the leg that was still thicker than the other one, thanks to swelling, and the bandages that flashed white beneath the gym shorts that had become his couch potato uniform.
“If there’d been some creep out there, I probably would’ve wasted so much time tripping over my own ass that they’d have gotten away. Maybe even hurt someone.”
“Tripping over your own ass? Now that’s just impossible.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her shoulders bowing beneath her cami’s tiny straps.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said. “There’s nobody out there.”
“Tonight, anyway. That we know of.” The knowledge that someone had targeted Belle – for what, he didn’t know – seared the back of his neck like a bad sunburn. He couldn’t shake the feeling, and he all but expected his skin to start peeling away in layers, exposing raw nerves.
She uncrossed her arms and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come back to bed. I’m so tired, and I won’t fall back asleep without you there.”
He stood and followed her gracelessly through the apartment, carrying the Glock. She flipped the lights off along the way and he shuffled through the darkness, feeling useless as the nerves in his leg fired pain signals to his brain.
The pain intensified with every step, and the high of reconnecting with Belle was tainted by the realization that he wasn’t able to protect her to the best of his abilities.
By the time they reached the bed, he was limping like a peg-legged pirate and had to stifle a sigh of relief as he sank down onto the mattress. Biting his tongue, he exhaled silently instead.
* * * * *
“What’s up, Belle?” Zackary ambushed her as she rounded a corner in the office, carrying a fresh cup of coffee.
“The usual.” She enjoyed her work, but it wasn’t exactly a wild ride. “You?”
He shrugged. “Not much going on so far this morning. You planning to go to the financial aid director’s retirement party?”
“Sure, I guess so.” The invitation had been waiting in her inbox when she’d gotten to work a couple hours ago. “Were you invited too?”
“Sort of. I know I’m just a student worker, but Keira said I can be her plus one.”
“That’s nice – you’ve been working here for a while now.”
He nodded. “Who are you bringing?”
“As my plus one? My boyfriend, if he’s feeling up to it.”
Zackary nodded, his mouth turning down at the corners. He knew about Jackson being shot. All the college staff seemed to know, and co-workers Belle was barely acquainted with asked about him regularly. Apparently, they’d all been duly impressed by the hero cop article.
“How’s he doing lately, anyway?”
“Getting better every day.”
“Well, it’ll be cool to meet him. He’s basically a local celebrity now.”
“I have a feeling he’d consider that a bit of a stretch.” She thought of Jackson bored at home in his gym shorts and knew he’d scoff at the idea.
Zackary shrugged. “All the college staff are pretty impressed. You think he’ll feel up to coming?”
“The party is still a couple weeks away. I’m hoping he’ll be feeling good enough for an evening out by then.”
“Good luck. And even if he can’t come, you’ll have me and Keira to hang out with.”
She nodded. If Jackson wasn’t feeling well enough to go to the party, she probably wouldn’t stay long, if she made an appearance at all. She didn’t bother saying so to Zackary. Ever since he’d found out she was dating Jackson the “hero cop,” he’d been less flirtatious toward her. Friendly and a little awkward, but he hadn’t made any amorous overtures in weeks.
It was a nice change, and she didn’t want to rock the boat.
* * * * *
“Hey.” Belle’s heart lightened when Jackson answered the door, standing on his own two feet without the aid of crutches.
“Hey.” He stepped aside – slowly but steadily – to let her into his apartment.
“You’re moving pretty good now that the stitches are out. How’s it feel?”
“It could definitely be worse. I can stand getting around the apartment on my own. Elijah picked up a cane for me at the drug store, but it makes me feel like an old man.”
“You’re anything but. Surely it’s more comfortable than the crutches, though?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I was debating whether to ask you, but since your recovery is going so well…”
“What is it?”
“We’re having a little party at work, about two and half weeks from now. Someone in the financial aid department is retiring. Anyway, I’m allowed to bring a guest. Would you like to come?”
“Sure.”
She smiled. “Great. It’ll give you a chance to get out of the house for a little while without exerting yourself too much. It’s just dinner.”
“What, no dancing?”
“Ha ha. They reserved a room at Moreno’s, and I know you like the food there. Should be fun.”
“Sounds good.”
His voice was at odds with his words – heavy, with a note of discontent she could’ve heard a mile away.
She glanced down at his leg, looking so much better now that the swelling had gone down and the stitches had been removed. Was he pushing himself to stand longer than was comfortable?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
For a moment, he said nothing.
“Lieutenant Aldred called just before you got here.”
“And?”
“She’s coming back to work next week.”
“That’s good – she’ll be there when you get back.”
“Yeah. Whenever that’ll be.” He raised a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “She said she’s been in some pretty heavy conversation with the chief lately. She wants Sanders fired, and it’s looking like it might happen.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Why did he sound so troubled by it? It was exactly what he’d wanted.
“Yeah. If me taking a couple bullets loses him his job, it’ll almost be worth it. But he’ll go home and take it out on his wife – I know he will.”
Her heart sank. What Jackson had seen that day at the Sanders’ house had stayed with him, and it seemed as if it was always going to be that way. But what could he do? What could anyone do, if Kate Sanders wasn’t willing to leave or hold her husband accountable for his crimes?
“I keep thinking of her and the baby stuck at home with him 24/7. They’ll never catch a break.”
“Maybe it’ll spur her into action – maybe she’ll leave.”
“Doubt it.”
She touched his arm, tracing the
swell of his biceps. “It’s rough to think about.”
He nodded. “She might be the next Marissa Brewer.”
Belle grimaced. Marissa Brewer was the name of the woman he’d rescued on the night of the shooting – the one he’d shielded from gunfire with his own body.
The thought made her blood run cold. She was so, so proud of him for what he’d done – the sacrifice he’d made. But the thought of him facing a situation like that again was terrifying.
“Next time she calls 911, it might be too late,” he said. “I can see Sanders going off the deep end in an alcoholic rage if he’s fired. Hell, I practically feel clairvoyant, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
She removed her hand from his arm and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Have a seat. I’ll make some coffee, okay?”
She wanted something hot to dispel the chill his words had stricken her with, and it was also a convenient excuse to get him off his feet.
He sank down as she busied herself at the counter, dishing rich grounds into the coffee maker and inhaling their scent.
“You should voice your concerns to Lieutenant Aldred,” she said. “If anyone will understand, she will – don’t you think?”
“Already have.” He pressed his hands flat on the table, his brow creasing.
She nodded silently, then deliberately changed the subject.
“Will you be staying over at my place again tonight?” He’d been doing so ever since the night he’d banged his foot on her coffee table. Nothing strange or threatening had happened since then, but being there made him feel better, and that made her feel better in turn.
Besides, she liked having him around.
“As long as you’ll have me.”
“I can’t imagine kicking you out of bed.” She flashed him the warmest smile she could muster.
“Good. Being there is just about the one damn thing I can do for you – or anyone – right now.”
“You’ve done enough for other people to last a lifetime. How many other people do you know who’ve taken bullets for another person?”
He just shook his head, as if that didn’t matter. “I was doing my job. I’m glad that woman is going to be okay, but it wasn’t personal. I don’t lie awake at night worrying about her. But you – that’s a different story. You’re being threatened, and I can’t protect you as well as I want to right now. I can’t do a damn thing for Kate Sanders, either.
“It feels like I’m watching her husband lock and load a gun he’s going to hold to her head, and I can’t stop it. I’ve never felt more useless in my life.”
She stopped and stared at him, taking in the way he sat with his shoulders tight and his brow furrowed. He looked lost in painful thought, and it broke her heart.
“I feel safe with you at my place at night. And I’m sure you’re doing more for Kate Sanders than anyone else ever has.”
It was obvious from his expression that her words failed to ease his mind or his conscience.
She poured coffee in silence, not knowing what else to do. She could distract him from his worries temporarily, but she couldn’t make them go away.
In that respect, she felt useless too.
CHAPTER 35
Jackson threw his cane into the car’s backseat. Damn, the thing was embarrassing.
“Seriously, man?” Elijah shot him an unimpressed glance from the driver’s seat. “Just use it. You’ve been shot in the leg and everyone knows it.”
“Don’t need it.” Jackson glanced out the window at the police department.
“You’re only three weeks out from surgery. What do you mean you don’t need it?”
“I mean what I said.” He popped the passenger side door open. There was nothing Elijah could say to convince him to take the cane – he wasn’t about to appear in front of his lieutenant, not to mention the Chief of Police, with that thing.
If he let them see him looking like a cripple, they’d never let him come back to work.
Elijah sighed as he slammed the driver’s side door shut. “Have it your way, Captain Badass.”
They crossed the parking lot behind the station, and Jackson made pretty good pace.
Inside, heads turned as soon as he walked through the door, bypassing the reception desk. An officer whose name he didn’t know gave his leg an appraising look, and a civilian family gathered at the desk turned to stare.
He ignored them all, making his way to the elevator.
Elijah took the elevator with him, but when they reached the second floor, he nodded toward the empty roll call room. “I’ll be hanging out here when you’re done.”
The handful of officers present on the second floor mid-shift greeted him as he made his way toward the chief’s office, and he did his best to pretend as if the walk wasn’t kicking his ass.
When he reached Chief Russell’s office, he and Lieutenant Aldred were waiting.
“Morning, Officer Calder,” he said. “You’re looking a hell of a lot better than I thought you would.”
Jackson held back a satisfied smile. “Recovery’s going well, Sir.”
He’d even suffered through pulling on a pair of loose pants that day, instead of the gym shorts that had become his wardrobe staple.
“I’m glad to hear it. We look forward to having you back.”
As much as Jackson had been dreading the meeting, at least it was off to a good start. Still, this wasn’t about him or his prospects for returning to work. It was about Sanders.
Lieutenant Aldred had called him a few days ago and informed him that the chief wanted to personally hear Jackson’s account of what had happened that night.
“Have a seat.” Chief Russell indicated the empty chair beside the lieutenant’s, across from the desk.
He did so, barely holding back a sigh of relief as he took his weight off his leg.
“I’ve reviewed the body cam footage from the night you were shot,” Chief Russell said. “I’ve also spoken about it with Sanders. I probably don’t need to tell you that we’re concerned with how he handled himself that night, and his future with the department is uncertain. Now, I want to hear your side of the story in as much detail as you can recall.”
Jackson nodded, his gut knotting. He remembered what had happened prior to being shot and didn’t have a problem with retelling it. That wasn’t what was bothering him – it was the thought of what Sanders might do if he was fired.
Which he probably would be. It was no secret that Sanders had had two complaints filed against him within the last year by city residents. One of them had been over Sanders allegedly using abusive language during a traffic stop, and the other a complaint from a woman who claimed he’d refused to help her when she asked him for help locating her missing daughter.
“That won’t be a problem, Chief.” Jackson said. “But everything will make more sense if I explain the incident that led to me arresting Officer Sanders first. It was still a cause of hostility on the night of the shooting. Back in August…”
* * * * *
“How did it go?” Belle couldn’t help asking as soon as she walked through Jackson’s apartment door Wednesday afternoon. He’d been stressing so much over the meeting, and she’d been wondering about it all day.
“All right,” he said as she closed the door behind herself.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m so glad. Tell me about it.”
She grabbed one of his hands and squeezed.
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, doubling her relief. She’d half expected to get there and find him seething.
“Things aren’t looking too good for Sanders. At least, that was the impression I got. I told the chief what happened that night, and I also told him I was worried about Sanders’ family and how he might react to being fired.”
“And?” She sat down at the kitchen table.
He joined her, his expression darkening.
“The chief said he can’t let that
affect his decision whether or not to fire Sanders. It’s his responsibility to determine whether or not Sanders is qualified to enforce the law, and he can’t let outside factors influence that.”
“Oh.” It made sense, but…
“He’s right,” Jackson said. “I get what he’s saying. But I really pushed the thing about Sanders’ family, with the newborn and everything… He said it’s still possible that Sanders can be prosecuted for the assault I arrested him over.”
Belle frowned. “But Kate Sanders recanted.”
“The chief said I can testify, even if she won’t.”
“I had no idea that was possible.” Belle felt her eyes go wide as a whole new slew of possibilities opened up.
“Some prosecutors will prosecute without a victim’s testimony if there’s other evidence, such as photos or other police documentation. Now, I didn’t see him hit her, but the department has a written statement from Kate, though she later recanted. That combined with my testimony might be enough to hold him accountable in a court of law. I didn’t see any marks on her the day of the arrest, but there was a bruise on her jaw the next time I spoke to her.”
Her heart lightened, even as she thought of the months ahead. It wouldn’t be easy for Jackson to balance his recovery and a court battle like the one he was describing.
“I’m glad there’s something that can be done,” she said. “He needs to be held accountable, and maybe it’ll give Kate the courage to leave him.”
“I hope so, Princess. Shit like this always gets worse over time. A lot of victims feel like they can’t leave, but I hope she’ll see things differently.”
“Well, she has the support of the police department. That’s more than some victims can say.”
“She does, but her husband is a cop too and God knows what kind of threats he’s made. I doubt the police are synonymous with safety in her mind.”
He had a point. Still, the possibility of a trial was something. If nothing else, maybe it would show Kate that there were people paying attention – that if she could find the courage to leave, she’d have support.
