by Terri Reed
A flood of embarrassment and irritation chased away her shyness. She stepped back and put a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean to kiss me. Because I hope you did mean to, if only this once.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a salty grin. “Oh, I meant to kiss you. I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”
For a long moment, he held her gaze and she was lost in the swirling blue depths. Then his grin faded, and his eyes seemed to cool. He disengaged from her. “This can’t happen again. I can’t allow anything to develop between us. I can’t do that to Ellie, and I can’t betray the memory of my wife.”
Stricken to the core, she clapped her hands together in front of her. Suddenly the mild evening air was cold against her bare arms. “Of course.”
He was still in love with his late wife. She could never compete with his memory of her. She lifted her shoulder in hopes to downplay the hurt spreading through her. “I understand.”
She turned and hurried back inside the museum. She wandered aimlessly through the crowd, a smile plastered on her face. She needed to find the restroom or some little dark alcove where she could melt down in private. Or as private as it could get with over a hundred people milling about. Her lower lip trembled. She clenched her teeth together. She would not cry in public.
She headed for the far exit, where the restrooms were off to the right and the caterer’s station off to the left. She passed the threshold into the hallway outside of the exhibit hall when a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and something sharp poked in to her left side.
“Just keep walking,” a deep voice said in her ear. “Or I’ll gut you here. The boss doesn’t want a scene. He wants you out of the way.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She slanted a glance sideways. The tall man wore a waiter’s jacket. His face was bruised around his nose and eyes. She swallowed as realization hit full force. This was one of the men who had tried to kidnap her the other day. The one whose nose she’d broken.
He steered her toward the catering doors. Horror filled her veins. If she let him take her through those shiny, swinging doors she was going to die.
Better to die here where there was a chance he would be caught. She had to do something. Cupping her left fist with her right hand, she took a deep breath and used as much force as she could muster to jab her elbow into his rib cage while at the same time she stomped down on his foot with her spiked heel.
He let out a foul curse, his hold on her lessening enough that she twisted away, running back toward the party. He grabbed the back of her dress and yanked her off her feet. She went down with a jolt onto the hard floor. Pain reverberated through her, stealing her breath.
A woman screamed.
Then she heard Carter’s voice. “Attack!”
The scrabble of nails echoed on the marble floor and then the whirlwind of white fur flashed by as Frosty sprang at her attacker. Despite the agony pulsing through her body, she spun to face the assailant with her feet up and ready to defend herself. But she didn’t need to. Frosty was standing on top of the man’s chest, snarling and snapping his jaw.
“Hey! Get him off me!” The terrified man withered beneath Frosty.
Carter raced forward to kick the knife away. “Don’t move or he’ll bite.”
The man froze.
Security guards and policemen rushed forward to take the man into custody. Carter called Frosty off so the man could be put in handcuffs and taken away.
Carter squatted down beside her and cupped her cheek. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”
“I’m just sore. Nothing broken.” She hoped. She allowed him to help her to her feet. She tested her legs, her back and arms to reassure herself there were no broken bones.
Despite his earlier assertion that nothing could happen between them, she clung to him. He was her safeguard. Her anchor in this strange and violent storm.
And she knew there was no way she could fight her feelings for Carter. She could only hope she could hide them.
After giving their statements to the officers on scene, they were cleared to leave.
Carter handed her the little black purse she’d been carrying. He must have grabbed it from the table on his way to find her.
Going home sounded like an ideal plan. She had enough information to write her article about the fund-raiser and all the celebrities in attendance, and of course the part about being attacked by a rogue waiter would add drama, especially when she highlighted how a certain handsome officer and majestic white dog came to her rescue. She was still shaking from the scare. She sent up praise to God above for sending the pair to her aid when she needed them the most.
“He said the boss didn’t want a scene. He wants me out of the way,” she said. “Do you think Miles is his boss?”
“I’ll find out when I question him,” Carter replied as he guided her through the gathered crowd and toward the museum exit.
Carter called for a car to pick them up. They didn’t have to wait long. They slid into the back and Rachelle leaned against the headrest, taking a few calming breaths.
Frosty lay curled on the floorboard. Carter had his face turned away from her as they traveled through the city.
She wanted Carter to hold her, but she wouldn’t ask. If he didn’t want to explore their growing attachment, then so be it. She had to learn to live within the parameters he’d set. She was used to craving love and affection and having it denied. There must be something wrong with her, that no one wanted to love her.
All the more reason to focus on her career.
The town car headed onto the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge, taking the outer lane. From the side-view window Rachelle could see the borough of Queens laid out in yellow dots reflecting the night sky. Below the bridge lay the wide expanse of the East River.
The silence between them became too much for her to bear.
“Did you know the East River isn’t really a river?” she asked Carter.
“No?”
She heard a hint of amusement in his tone but ignored it. “No. Despite its name it isn’t truly a river but a saltwater tidal strait connecting Upper New York Bay with Long Island Sound.”
“That is correct.”
Definitely amused. “Did you know that water of the strait flows in different directions depending on the time of day?”
“I think I remember learning something about that in school,” he said drily.
She rolled her eyes at him even though it was too dark inside the car for him to notice. “I know you grew up here, but this is all new to me. The closest river near where I grew up, the Oconee River, provides drinking water for thousands of people in the state.”
“You don’t want to drink the East River water.”
“I see people fishing in it.”
“You don’t want to do that, either. There are much better waterways to find good fish.” He shifted to face her. “Do you fish?”
She shook her head. “My father took me fishing when I was young, much to my mother’s dismay.”
“Did you catch anything?”
“A cold,” she confessed. “I wasn’t patient enough to stand in the water with a pole, waiting for some wide-mouthed bass to bite.”
“That sounds about right.”
“What does that mean?”
“In the time I’ve known you I can say you aren’t the type of person to sit idle for long.”
True. She did like to keep busy. Either physically or mentally. “I don’t see you relax much.”
“Between the job, Frosty and Ellie, there’s no time for relaxation.”
“When was the last time you took a vacation?”
He rubbed his chin. “I took some time off when Ellie was born.”
Her stomach clenched. Time to mourn his deceased wife. That didn’t sound like a vacation. Th
e man needed some downtime. For himself and for Ellie. “Have you considered taking Ellie to Disney World? I was about her age when my grandmother took me.”
Though she couldn’t make out his expression, she could feel his gaze on her in the shadowed interior of the car. “You still remember the trip?”
“Like it was yesterday.” She reached across the seat to find his hand. “Take your daughter on a memorable trip. Let her dress up like a princess.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “I might do as you suggest.”
The sound of a roaring engine filled the car’s interior as harsh light shone in through the back window. Frosty lifted his head and growled.
From the front seat the driver said, “What’s this guy doing?”
Rachelle sat up straight and glanced through the rear window and was momentarily blinded by multiple headlights on the large vehicle tailgating their car.
“He’s awfully close,” she said.
“Step on it,” Carter told the driver. The car sped forward but so did the big truck behind them.
Carter grabbed his cell phone from the breast pocket of his tux jacket. He said, “Carter Jameson, 10-13Z, Queensboro Bridge.” He explained their predicament.
“What was that code?”
“Civilian clothed officer in trouble,” he said. “Put your seat belt on.”
She scrambled to click the belt into place.
Carter patted the seat between them. Frosty jumped up. “Help me put the center seat belt on Frosty.”
“What’s happening?” She stretched the seat belt over Frosty, as he craned his neck behind him, barking into her ear.
The truck roared up right behind them.
“Brace yourself,” Carter instructed. “I have a bad feeling about this.” Fear infused his tone, betraying the gravity of the situation.
Her body tensed, and she dug her fingers into the seat to brace herself.
With a rev of its big engine, the truck struck the back of their vehicle. The vibration of the hit jolted through Rachelle. Her head bounced off the back seat. Their car fishtailed. Their driver lost control of the wheel, sending the car spinning.
The big truck lurched forward. Rachelle ducked and covered her head as the large silver grill rammed into her side of the vehicle. The sickening sound of metal crunching as the car buckled inward filled the interior. The car slammed into the concrete barrier, keeping them from going over the side of the bridge.
Terrified, Rachelle prayed, “Lord, please, get us out of this.”
The trajectory of the town car jerked to a halt. For a moment, Rachelle opened her eyes, then quickly shielded them from the glaring light still shining through the passenger side window.
Carter grabbed at her buckle. “We need to get out.”
Before he could unbuckle her, the engine on the big truck rumbled. Fearing her legs would be crushed, Rachelle drew her legs up onto the seat an instant before the side door crumbled inward, bending with a loud shriek. Glass flew through the air and she barely felt the pricks as tiny shards hit her skin.
The big truck pushed their car like it was nothing more than a child’s toy.
“Save yourself,” Carter yelled to the car driver.
The driver managed to extract himself and stumbled away from the car to safety.
Carter opened the sunroof. “Unhook yourself,” he instructed Rachelle. “And Frosty. Hurry!”
He climbed out through the window and reached back inside to help Frosty out onto the roof of the car.
Heart pounding in her ears, she grasped Carter’s outstretched hand. He pulled her through just as the truck squished the metal frame of the car.
“This way!” Carter took her hand and drew her onto the top of the concrete barrier. Frosty jumped off what was left of their car onto the road and barked, the frantic sound heartrending.
Beneath her feet, the barrier shook as the car broke through a chunk of cement and the back end dangled over the river.
Surefooted, Carter ran across the barrier to safety. Rachelle’s strappy sandals slipped. For a moment, her arms cartwheeled, before she bent her knees and crouched, clinging to the barrier with both hands.
“Move forward,” Carter yelled. “You can do it!”
She crawled as best she could until she cleared the front end of the car. Carter reached for her and drew her to his chest as gunfire erupted from the cab of the big truck. Taking her by the hand, he ran with her in a hunched, serpentine fashion toward the line of cars that had stopped.
“Down! Everyone get down,” Carter yelled at the people who’d climbed out of their cars.
The pinging of bullets hitting cars and spitting asphalt shuddered through Rachelle. She couldn’t believe this. Why were they so determined to kill her?
TWELVE
The sound of sirens punctuated the air. Carter dragged Rachelle down behind the tail end of a large newspaper delivery van. Frosty sat beside them. She buried her face in the dog’s fur. The irony wasn’t lost on her, and she would have laughed if she weren’t so frightened. Here she was, desperately trying to solve Chief Jordan Jameson’s murder, following clues that led her to Miles Landau, and she might die hiding behind a newspaper’s van.
They heard the squeal of tires on pavement and the roar of the big truck’s engine. Carter glanced around the side of the van. “They’re leaving.”
She gripped his shoulder and peered around him to see the big heavy hauling truck tearing down the roadway away from them, its horn blaring as cars that had stopped on the other side of the accident either scrambled to get out of the way or were pushed out of the way by the heavy grill.
“You’re okay,” Carter told her.
She nodded, grateful once again for his quick thinking.
For the next hour, there was organized chaos as uniformed officers and other K-9 Unit officers, along with their dogs, converged on the scene. Medics saw to the injured.
Rachelle had sustained a few cuts from broken glass on her shoulders, hands and face. The paramedics also confirmed she hadn’t sustained any injuries from her earlier attack. Carter’s hand was bandaged for a cut and a shard of glass had to be removed from one of Frosty’s paws.
Once the paramedics released her, Rachelle followed Carter to a K-9 Unit vehicle. Her heart beat too fast and her hands shook as she accepted a bottle of water from a tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed officer. Beside him sat a handsome bloodhound, whose deep chocolate eyes studied her with a tilt of his droopy-jowled head.
“Thank you,” she said to the officer.
“My pleasure. Name’s Reed Branson,” Reed told her, his voice low and empathic. “You two have had an exciting evening.”
“That’s an understatement,” Carter muttered as he tilted a bottle of water to his lips and drank deeply.
“Hop in,” Reed said, gesturing to his vehicle. “I’ve been instructed by the chief to get you both home safely.”
“I need to go to the station to interrogate the suspect arrested earlier,” Carter told him.
Reed shrugged. “Take it up with your brother.” He opened the door. “Until I hear otherwise, get in.”
“I should get my own rig, anyway,” Carter stated. He held out his hand for Rachelle.
She allowed him to help her into the back seat while Reed put his dog and Frosty into the dog compartment. Carter sat up front on the drive to the house in Rego Park.
When they arrived at the Jamesons’, Carter handed her off to his parents, then he and Frosty left in his official vehicle. She burned to go with him, to hear him interrogate the suspect and learn if this man worked for the person responsible for Chief Jordan Jameson’s murder.
She would have to wait and see if Carter would divulge any information to her. For now, she just wanted to ease the aches and pain with a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. If such a thing was
even possible.
* * *
The next three days went by in a blur for Carter. Between dealing with the aftermath of the attempts on Rachelle’s life and doing his certification competitions, he was both wired and exhausted.
And unfortunately, no closer to taking down Miles Landau. The thug from The Metropolitan Museum of Art who had attacked Rachelle had lawyered up and wasn’t talking. They had him dead to rights on attempted kidnapping and attempted murder. Still, his lawyer maintained that Attilo Hunt was acting alone and had nothing more to say. And unfortunately, the police department couldn’t connect Attilo to Miles Landau.
And the haul truck hadn’t been found, despite every cop in all five boroughs searching high and low for some sign of the destructive vehicle.
By the morning of the police dog field trials public demonstrations, Carter was wishing he wasn’t competing. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
Ellie appeared in the doorway to Carter’s bedroom. She’d dressed herself in the unicorn-covered dress Rachelle had apparently purchased for her on their shopping excursion before the fund-raiser ball. The whimsical motif soothed Carter’s ragged emotions a little.
“Can I go downstairs for breakfast?”
Needing a few more minutes alone to gather his thoughts, he said, “Sure. I’ll be down shortly.”
Over the past week he’d tried unsuccessfully to ignore the tension between him and Rachelle that ebbed and flowed in a disturbing way he had never experienced.
When he was away from her, he wondered what she was doing, if she was safe. And every once in a while he’d catch a phantom whiff of lavender and think she was nearby. And then, when he returned home at night, she’d be there with his parents, Katie and Ellie. They’d have dinner ready and would gather like a family. And he’d want to pull Rachelle into his arms and kiss her again.
He didn’t know how much more of her being within the bosom of his family he could take without losing his sanity.
But today, he couldn’t think about her and his unexpected and unwanted feelings for her. Today he had to focus on the course. Today was about him and Frosty representing the NYC K-9 Command Unit against over forty other teams from all over the nation.
