Back to Life

by Linda O. Johnston

  Bad idea! Bad idea! The words reverberated in Skye’s brain.

  But there was no stopping now. He pushed his hard, hard body against her. His mouth was fiery, and his tongue engaged hers in sensually teasing games.

  “This way,” she somehow murmured against him, pushing him backward down the hallway toward her bedroom, her breasts against his chest.

  Good thing Bella knew Trevor. Skye was aware of her dog’s keeping pace with them, uneasily pattering down the hall, watching how they suddenly seemed fused together—a single, burning human being instead of two cool cops.

  Cops. They were coworkers.

  Bad idea.

  Her house suddenly seemed very, very full. And hot. She didn’t have air-conditioning because it was so close to the beach, but right now she felt as if it burned with flames stoked by Santa Ana winds.

  No, that was just her burning.

  She was aware, so aware, of how Trevor’s hands stroked her over her flimsy silk dress. Her back. Her butt. “Oh,” she gasped.

  And Bella barked.

  “I’m fine, girl,” Skye managed to say, smiling despite herself. Trevor and she had reached her bedroom. Her K-9 companion might be mostly trained to follow scents, but she was protective, too. “Down,” Skye ordered her. “Stay.”

  She’d barely shut the door behind Trevor and her when he started undoing the buttons at the front of her dress.

  Feeling vulnerable and wanting to participate, Skye ripped at Trevor’s shirt. Its buttons popped open, revealing his hard, muscular chest, a hint of dark hair at its center. She ran her hands along it, then down toward his belt buckle.

  “Wait!” he commanded, then threw off his shirt and undid his own pants, shoving them to the floor along with his boxers.

  His scent was that of antiperspirant soap mixed with the pure, musky aroma of man. His skin was rough, hairy—all masculine.

  He growled something, pulled her close but not against him, and in moments she, too, was bare.

  And on the bed. With him. His hands, his mouth, they were everywhere. She wanted to give as good as she got, only she found herself gasping for more. And more.

  He stopped for only a moment, and she heard the sound of wrapping being torn from a condom. The guy was always prepared.

  His hand was back between her legs. Caressing her even as she bucked. “Now!” she exclaimed. “Please!”

  Moments later, he complied with her command. He was inside her, thrusting, as she encouraged and moved with him, in unison.

  She gasped loudly as her quick, hard climax overwhelmed her. A shout told her that he, too, had reached the pinnacle.

  She clasped him tightly, breathing so heavily that she wondered if she would lose consciousness. But she didn’t want to miss even an instant of this insane pleasure, even when the best was over…for the moment.

  “You okay?” he asked breathlessly a minute later.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “You?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he echoed.

  As they continued to lie there, Skye’s conscience once again began to berate her, but she pushed those thoughts aside.

  This might have been a bad idea, but she wouldn’t have missed it for anything—no matter what the consequences.

  “You can’t stay for the rest of the night?” Skye’s voice sounded both exhausted and a little hurt. A pang of conscience shot through Trevor, but as wonderful as this had been and as much as he didn’t want it to end, there was something he had to do.

  “I’ll take a rain check.” He leaned over to kiss Skye on her sexy, swollen lips as her head lay on her pillow and her long blond hair spread out in delicious waves surrounding her head.

  He was tempted to stay but drew himself up and dragged himself out of bed.

  “Okay if I take a shower?” he asked.

  “Help yourself,” she said coolly.

  “I wish I could stay, Skye, but duty calls.” He responded to the question he saw in her eyes. “Nothing official, but there’s someplace I have to go right now. And, well, this has been…I mean, I’d really like to do it again, and—”

  “I got it,” she finally said with a brief laugh. “Now get ready and get out of here. But let Bella into the bedroom when you head for the shower.”

  Skye snuggled into her soft and rumpled sheets, still breathing the scent of their lovemaking—letting it surround her with the memory of delight and the anticipation of more to come.

  But she felt certain that, in the harsh light of day—when she raised her sore yet satisfied body from bed, when the glow of lovemaking wore off as she started getting ready for work, and the hurt that he hadn’t stayed the night overpowered the remembered pleasure—she would know better.

  The first glimmer of daylight appeared behind her closed draperies. On the floor beside her, Bella stirred, then stood, turning in a circle that signified that the beautiful black Malinois was ready to face the day and had to go outside to start it her usual way. The action made Skye feel the impending day was going to be normal—mundane.

  “That’s good,” Skye said aloud, softly.

  But she knew she lied to herself. This day wouldn’t be normal at all. Not with the memories of last night at the forefront of her mind and tingling along every inch of her skin.

  No, today was going to be different. She just knew it.

  Could it really be this easy?

  In the pale light of daybreak, Trevor watched as a dark, stooped figure sneaked through the shrubbery behind the ocean-view mansion. The owner’s business manager owed Trevor a favor and had promised to leave the doors open for him.

  The owner was out of town. And Trevor had made sure to say the place was empty when he called a certain company requesting an estimate for a major landscaping upgrade. He mentioned, however, that a real estate broker might stop over that morning to do an initial walk-through for a possible sale.

  All lies. All designed to set the trap Trevor had been planning for a while.

  He had work to do and hoped he’d be able to accomplish it outside. Trevor didn’t want to ruin any part of the decor of this beautiful house. Blood spatter tended to do that. But if inside was the only way…well, so be it. He’d just have to see how this played out.

  Just then the figure darted out of Trevor’s view, probably nearing the back door. Showtime.

  “Good morning, Eddy.” Trevor left the cover of shadows and approached his prey.

  Sure enough, Edinger, dressed in baggy black sweats, was on the back porch. He froze like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. But he was no stately wild stag in search of a dinner of fine foliage.

  No, his affinity for greenery had to do with stealing cash from people’s homes or their persons.

  “What the hell do you want, Owens?” In the pale light of dawn, Edinger looked even more rodentlike, with his large nose and buck teeth and pale skin. His hands were suddenly shoved into his pockets, and he slumped with his back against the beige stucco wall of the house.

  Trevor put his own hands out in a gesture intended to appear placating. He didn’t really want to soothe this rat, though.

  “I’m just keeping an eye on you, like I promised,” Trevor said with a big smile. “And what are you doing here?”

  “How’d you know I’d be here?”

  “I just guessed—after calling the company you work for. I told them all about how this house is going on the market and the real estate agent is hanging around, plus the place needs some landscaping while the owner’s out of town. Isn’t that the kind of setup you like best?”

  “Hey, I was found not guilty.” The jerk actually sounded indignant, and he straightened himself as he scowled.

  “That doesn’t mean anyone believes you’re innocent,” Trevor said menacingly. “We both know better, don’t we, Eddy?”

  “Look, cop, just leave me alone. I know my rights. Like I told you on the phone, you’re harassing me. Maybe stalking me. I really will sue you and the whole police department for what you
’re doing if you don’t stop.”

  “Gee, Eddy, that would be a civil action. Not that you’d win, of course. But by the time the lawyers talked, and the thing got to court…well, you and I would have seen a whole lot of each other before anything could happen.” This wasn’t entirely true, of course. Eddy’s lawyers would know all about temporary restraining orders, things that could happen a lot faster than waiting for a claim to get to trial. But Eddy didn’t necessarily know that.

  “Leave me alone, you son of a bitch.” Eddy lunged toward Trevor. A knife with one hell of a long, sharp-looking blade was in his hand.

  Trevor moved, but not far enough away to ensure that he wasn’t stabbed at all. He dodged just enough to let the knife get him in the left side. He purposely hadn’t worn any Kevlar protection.

  “Okay, you son of a bitch,” Trevor growled, grabbing the small semiautomatic holstered under his loose shirt. He held it with both hands and momentarily pointed it at the ground. Furiously, he looked Eddy in the eye. “You’re not going to hurt anyone else. Ever. You die. Right now. You hear me? Die.”

  He raised the gun and aimed it at Eddy—only to see, to his utter astonishment, that the guy clutched his chest and gasped. His eyes widened, like he was in pain. “You…you…” he whispered, as he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

  Trevor blinked. Daylight was growing brighter, but he couldn’t see any telltale rise and fall of the guy’s chest.

  Even so, he kept his gun trained on Edinger. “Eddy? Hey, Eddy, you okay?” It was a dumb thing to ask considering that he’d intended to shoot the guy and kill him in self-defense.

  Eddy didn’t respond. Didn’t move. Carefully, slowly, Trevor knelt, ignoring the pain in his side and the streaming of his blood down his shirt and pant leg. He remained ready to spring up and protect himself when Eddy stopped his pretense and attacked.

  Only, Eddy remained still. And, touching his neck, Trevor felt no pulse.

  Had he had a heart attack? Died out of fear that Trevor was about to kill him?

  How ridiculous! But what other explanation could there be?

  Trevor stood again, still moving slowly and painfully, then drew his cell phone from his pocket. He called 911. “This is Officer Trevor Owens of the ABPD. I need assistance.” He gave the address. “Send the EMTs. I’ve been wounded, and I’ve got a suspect down.”

  Only…he hadn’t done a damned thing to put him there.

  What the hell had just happened here?

  Chapter 14

  S kye was heading for the station when she heard the call on her radio: “Officer down.”

  Oh, no, not another one, she thought. Who is it?

  Not Trevor. Surely it couldn’t be him.

  The report seemed garbled. No shooting, but still a possible fatality. The dispatcher didn’t have the full story—or wasn’t reporting it.

  There were lots of other officers in the ABPD. It could just as likely be her dear friend, Ron Gollar.

  Skye shivered. She hated the idea that it was probably someone she knew.

  She tried calling Trevor on his cell. No answer. That worried her.

  At least Ron answered his phone. “I heard, Skye. I’m fine. But I don’t have any details.”

  She called the station. The watch commander, a blasé old sergeant named Hutchings, didn’t know the details, either. All he could tell her was that Trevor was wounded off duty and was being taken by ambulance to Angeles Beach Medical Center.

  Skye’s pulse rate skyrocketed, and she pulled cautiously to the side of the road. She needed a moment to let her suddenly fried mind compute the best way to the hospital. Fast.

  “No K-9s were called in, Rydell,” the commander continued. “The suspect was fatally injured. He appeared to be acting alone, so we don’t need any tracking.”

  Good thing. Skye didn’t want any distractions. She needed to get to the hospital and check on Trevor’s condition.

  What if he was dying…again? Once again she wondered if she could save him a second time. No one, as she was growing up, had ever addressed that possibility. She didn’t know if anyone with her heritage had even tried such a thing, let alone succeeded.

  “Good to know, sir,” Skye said, “since I’ll be a little late reporting for duty today.” She didn’t try to explain or come up with some lame excuse.

  After hanging up, she breathed deeply with her head touching the steering wheel. Behind her, sensing something wrong, Bella barked.

  “I’m okay, girl,” Skye assured her, hoping it was true. She didn’t want to take the time to drive Bella home. She’d have to leave her in the car for at least a short while when they reached the hospital. Worst case, she’d call another K-9 officer to bring her to the station until Skye got there.

  She was about two miles from the medical center and thought about using lights and sirens to keep everyone out of her way. But she didn’t want to attract that kind of attention.

  Yet what if Trevor was mortally wounded? Time was absolutely of the essence even though she heard no chanting inside her mind—at least not yet.

  She ignored the speed limit but didn’t resort to using official gear to get through the light traffic. The hospital had an indoor parking garage, and Skye dashed inside, pulled into a space near the emergency entrance and lowered the windows enough to give Bella some ventilation.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told her partner, giving her a brief hug before locking the doors.

  She hurried into the emergency room. At the entrance was a row of desks where patients, or their families, signed in and showed insurance cards, and beyond was a room filled with people waiting either for a doctor or for their loved ones. The place smelled of antiseptic and fear.

  Skye brushed her own fear aside and spoke with the admissions nurse. “A police officer was brought in a little while ago. Where—”

  The nurse pointed beyond the waiting room. “Third room down the hall. But he’s not alone. Would you like for me to—”

  Skye did not wait to hear her question, but hurried through the waiting room. She heard voices from beyond the door. Should she knock? Maybe he was being examined by the doctors. Or—

  The hell with waiting. She gave a brief knock and walked in before anyone responded.

  And found Trevor there, lying in bed, surrounded not by doctors but by Captain Boyd Franks and SWAT officers Carl Shavinsky and Greg Blanding.

  Trevor was sitting up and looked alert as he stared right at her and gave a lopsided smile that made her heart do flip-flops.

  But it also called attention to her. The others turned toward the door, where she stood.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she said. “I was close by and wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything I could do to help, and—”

  “Everything’s under control, Officer Rydell,” Captain Franks said coolly.

  “But thanks for checking,” Trevor said. “I’ll be out in an hour or two. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt bad, but you should have seen the other guy.”

  His tone suggested he was joking. And his gaze told her he remembered last night. She felt herself blush, hoping the others wouldn’t understand why. She straightened her shoulders, trying to be all business. She looked into Trevor’s eyes. Whatever his injury was, it apparently wasn’t life threatening. He appeared almost, well, pleased. But as he looked back at her, she sensed something else, too. Confusion?

  What was going on?

  “Could you just tell me briefly what happened so I can tell the others who ask? If that’s all right, sir,” Skye asked, looking from Trevor to the captain.

  “It’s okay to let everyone know that Officer Owens was injured but will be fine,” Captain Franks said.

  “Can I say how he was hurt?”

  The captain nodded at Trevor, obviously giving him permission to explain.

  “Damnedest thing,” Trevor said. “I’d been keeping an eye on Edinger. I figured it was unlikely he’d act again so soon after his acquittal, but he obviously
was unstable enough to murder that broker and home owner in the first place. I thought I was being fairly discreet.”

  Something about his expression told her otherwise. He seemed like a small child crossing his fingers behind his back while telling his parents a whopper.

  “But he saw me. Came at me with a knife. Got me in the side.” He gingerly reached down beneath the white blanket and winced as he touched somewhere below his rib cage. “Of course I’d come armed, since I didn’t trust the guy. I was prepared to draw my weapon to protect myself, in self-defense.”

  So that was it. Another incident like those in which Trevor had killed murder suspects who had gotten off at trial—purportedly in self-defense. And maybe actually so. But Skye suspected he had pushed and pushed the suspects until they erupted and attacked. That way he could shoot back—attain his own form of justice.

  He continued. “In the heat of the moment, before I finished drawing and aiming my gun, I shouted at him to die. Right away. Dumb thing to do, but…well, I don’t know if he had a heart condition or what, but he just dropped. Right there, in front of me. When I checked, I felt no pulse. It’s like when I told him to die, that’s exactly what he did.”

  Skye swallowed her gasp. Could that line of legends from her heritage be true?

  He was the one who’d been wounded, but Trevor watched as Skye’s face grew as white as if she’d just been stabbed. At the same time she edged toward the door, obviously not wanting anyone to notice her distress.

  He wouldn’t call attention to her reaction to the others, who watched him, nodding and whispering among themselves. He’d let her exit gracefully.

  But when he was out of here, he would get together with her as soon as possible. Find out what she was thinking.

  Carl Shavinsky followed his gaze and started to turn toward Skye. To divert him, Trevor said, “Hey, guys, how do you want to handle this with the media? I mean, I assume someone out there will want my side of what happened.”

  “We’ll get the media liaisons at the station to talk to you first,” the captain said, which started a lively conversation about what slimeballs reporters could be.