Going In Blind_Brotherhood Protectors World

by Kris Norris

  Tears glistened in her eyes, a few slipping over her lashes before she steeled herself—buried her emotions just like Rigs had done a thousand times since the IED. “Thank you. Whatever it takes. Whatever the cost.”

  “I promise I’ll do everything I can. Do you have a number I can call you at?”

  “I just got a new one…” She paused, a frown marring her pretty face, and Rigs made a mental note to ask her why, later. “And I haven’t memorized it, yet, but it’s in…” Her brow furrowed as her lips pressed into a line. “I forgot. I left it in my purse with Carl… Oh my god. I don’t even know if he’s okay. If he was hurt. I’ve been so preoccupied. I…”

  Rigs gave her another squeeze, nodding at the vet. “You can call me. I’ll make sure Addison gets the message.”

  He rattled off his cell, helping Addy stand in order to give the vet room to move—position Blade on the small cart he’d brought in with him.

  The man straightened. “I should have some news in a few hours.”

  “Doesn’t matter what time it is. I’ll be awake.”

  “Very well.”

  Addison bit at her bottom lip as the cart rolled away, the clatter from the wheels blanching some of the color from her face.

  Rigs cupped her jaw as he thumbed her chin. “He’s going to be fine. You heard the doc. A bit of R&R, and he’ll be good as new. Chewing your favorite pair of shoes.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “He seems to prefer boots. Already lost my best pair of hikers.”

  “Then, you might want to hide the ones you have on. If they taste half as good as they look, he’ll go after them, next.”

  She smiled, and damn, his stupid scarred heart gave a hard beat. One that left an ache in his chest, again. Bruised his ribs.

  “Thank you. Do you think we can check up on my friend? I should have asked straight off, but…”

  But she’d been worried about her partner. Her best friend, as she’d put it.

  “Sure. What’s his name?” Was that jealousy burning just beneath his skin?

  “Carl Jones.”

  “All right. You stay here while I go and check. Then, we’ll head on over and have a chat with the SWAT leader. Okay?”

  She nodded, that beautiful blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. Rigs took a moment to tuck some of it behind her ear. Get just a feel of how soft it was because it looked like silk. Endless strands of spun gold that gleamed, even in the muted light.

  The locks spilled across his hand. Christ, it was even softer than he’d imagined. The mass brushing over his knuckles, giving his skin a pale golden hue. He stood for a moment then forced his hand back to his side. It wasn’t easy. He’d once spent two hours disarming a trip mine a fellow soldier had stepped on. Had tried a dozen different techniques before finally being able to find a way to bypass it. And it hadn’t been easy to bypass, either. Had taken all his training, and a healthy dose of luck, but he’d found a way to reroute the damn switch.

  Pulling his hand back, turning and actually walking away to get intel on this Carl guy—the one she’d mentioned a couple of times, and who’d quickly taken first spot on Rigs’ shit list on the chance he was more than just a friend—felt twice as hard. Twice as taxing. But Rigs managed it—barely.

  Took him five minutes to track down the guy, have a quick conversation—confirm that he was strictly a friend, no fringe benefits—then start back, doing his best to rush without looking as if he was rushing. He reached the corner then tripped a step when he spotted four men caging Addy in. They had their backs to the room, their hands fisted at their sides. A flush colored their cheeks, and a light sweat beaded their foreheads.

  Rigs cursed. They were either anxious or angry, neither of which sat well with him where Addison was concerned. He glanced at her. Her lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her back stiff. A similar flush sat high in her cheekbones, fading down her neck and across her upper chest.

  The sight flipped a switch inside his head. Had him quickening his pace. The men jumped when he appeared beside them—whether from his face or how he’d simply materialized next to them because he’d made damn sure they hadn’t seen or heard him coming, he wasn’t sure—all of them taking a few steps back and allowing Rigs to shift in beside her. Stare them down. He didn’t try to hide the scars. Not when it was obvious the marks made the other men shift restlessly on their feet. Good. Rigs would stand there all night just to get them to back off.

  Addison inhaled, her hand immediately finding his arm. “Well?”

  He smiled to himself that she’d recognized him without asking. That either his scent or his energy registered on a level she identified with. He kept his gaze fixed on the newcomers. “Your friend’s fine. He cut his arm when he slipped and landed on some glass. He’s out in one of the ambulances getting stitched. He looked pretty wiped. I told him I’d see you home. That you’d call him tomorrow—let him know how Blade was doing.” He handed her a small clutch bag. “I got your purse.”

  She took it. “It seems all I do is say thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He kept staring at the men, vowing they’d be the first to look away.

  Addison sighed. No way she hadn’t picked up on his tension. On the firm strain of his muscles beneath her fingers. “Kent, I’d like you to meet Detective’s Paul Johnson and Trent Seymour. They’re from my old unit. The other two men are Agents David Colby and Shawn Townsend. They’re DEA. My old precinct runs a lot of joint ventures with the agency.”

  Rigs extended his hand, shaking each man’s hand stiffly. “I hadn’t realized narcotics had been called in. Do you think this robbery was drug motivated?”

  The dark-haired one—Johnson—snorted. “No. We were in the area, coming back from a stakeout that didn’t pan out, when the call went out. When we heard Addy had radioed it in, well… We couldn’t just sit there and not try to help. But it looks like you and your friends took care of the problem. It’s Walker, right? Kent Walker. That’s what SWAT said. You’re an ex-Marine. And your buddies are ex-Special Forces, too.” He grinned, but it looked more like a snarl. “Pretty damn lucky for everyone that you three were here, or the night might have ended differently.”

  Kent smiled at Addison. “We had some help.”

  “Right.” Johnson glanced at his partner then back to Rigs. “Anyway, it seems Addy’s just fine. We…worry about her, now.”

  Addison huffed. “You realize that implies you didn’t worry about me, before. When I was busting drug dealers and facing down meth heads.”

  The blonde standing next to Johnson—Seymour, she’d called him—stepped forward. “You know that’s not what Paul meant. It’s just, things are different, now. You’re different. You’re… vulnerable.”

  “Vulnerable? Just because I haven’t fully recovered, yet, doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

  Johnson sighed. “Must you always make it sound as if we think less of you?”

  “Maybe because you do. You treat me like I’ll break if you breathe on me the wrong way.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? You just spent the past couple of minutes yelling at me because I took a stand.”

  “You fired a gun in the middle of a fucking building! With absolutely no idea who you might hit. Do you know how insane that is? How lucky you got?”

  “I knew exactly where I was aiming. Who I was aiming at. I heard the click of the magazine. His breath wheeze out of his lungs. His boots scuff the floor. It wasn’t random. And I chose not to fire, again, when I couldn’t pinpoint him after he’d been knocked down. So, don’t lecture me on morality. I would have let that asshole shoot me before popping off rounds just in the hopes of saving myself.”

  “God, do you even hear yourself? No wonder you haven’t regained your sight. You’re still as delusional as you were eighteen months ago.”

  Rigs shifted forward, cutting Addison off before she could reply. “I don’t care who you are, you’re cros
sing a line.”

  The guy laughed, and Rigs clenched his fist to keep from knocking the bastard on his ass. “I’m not saying anything that she doesn’t already know. I assume she hasn’t told you. That this blind act she has going on is all in her head. There’s nothing wrong with her eyes. That’s why they call it hysterical blindness.”

  Addison set her jaw. “It’s called conversion disorder, you prick.”

  Johnson shrugged. “I don’t care what it’s called. The end result’s the same. Unless this is your way of telling us you’ve got your sight back?” He held up one hand. “How many fingers.”

  Rigs grabbed the guy’s hand and shoved it out of Addison’s face. “This isn’t a joke, and you’re not funny.”

  “What’s not funny is having a blind woman fire a bloody gun.”

  “I’m a trained cop. It’s different.” Addison’s chin quivered as she pushed back her shoulders, doing her best to own her space. “And I’ve been having…flashes, okay?”

  “Flashes?” Johnson arched a brow. “What kind of flashes?”

  “Snapshots of the room. It’s not much, but it’s enough to orient myself. And what I saw in that split second assured me I wouldn’t hit anyone else.”

  “A split second? That doesn’t sound like your vision returning. More like a flashback. Probably from the raid that night. I’m sure it seemed real—”

  “I know the difference between reality and a flashback, Paul. And this was real.”

  “There never was any reasoning with you. Looks like nothing’s changed. But the reality, as you put it, is that until you get better, permanently, you’d best remember that you are blind and start acting that way.” Johnson frowned as he nudged his partner. “I’m just glad it worked out in your favor, this time.” He nodded at Rigs. “Mr. Walker.”

  Rigs moved in front of the men when they tried to walk past him, using his death stare to back them up a step. “I don’t know that much about conversion disorder. An oversight I intend to correct. But I do know that Addison is part of the reason tonight didn’t end with a hundred bodies littering the floor. If she hadn’t taken those two men out… The odds would have been much graver. So, instead of talking out of your asses because you weren’t here and couldn’t possibly know what the situation was or what the risks were, you could try thanking her for putting her life on the line to stop what most certainly would have become a blood bath.”

  Seymour scowled. “Like my partner said. We’re glad things didn’t turn out worse. But you should think twice before encouraging her. If she’d missed on just one of those shots—”

  “But she didn’t. Honestly, I haven’t seen shooting that accurate outside the Teams.”

  “If you think what she did was heroic, then, you’re just as delusional as she is. We’ll see you ‘round, Addy.”

  Addison tightened her grip on her cane, tapping it on the floor until the men’s footsteps faded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Rigs turned, admiring the simple beauty of her. The way her hair hung just below her shoulders. The adorable furrow in her brow as she stood there, fuming. She was pissed, and he thought she looked stunning.

  He moved back beside her, positioning his arm so she could hold it, again. Not because she needed it, but because he wanted her to touch him. Any way he could get. “Just told them the facts, sweetheart.”

  Her lips quirked, and he wondered if she’d just, now, clued into the fact he’d been calling her sweetheart. “They have a point.”

  “They have an opinion. It happens to be wrong, but they’re entitled. You were a cop for twelve years. As long as I was a Marine. What you did tonight was all those years of training kicking in. I guarantee that in the space of a heartbeat, you had it completely pictured inside your mind. All the sounds, the smells. They gave you a mental map, and you fired based on your best judgement. That’s all any of us do at any given time. God knows, I’ve gone in under the cover of smoke more times than I can count. I had to rely on my instincts to decipher what was a threat and what wasn’t. Not every situation can be picture perfect. I don’t doubt that if you’d heard anything to suggest there were people around, you’d be lying on the floor, now, instead of him. And it’d be your body inside that black bag.”

  Rigs couldn’t go there. Couldn’t let the thought manifest because it was too easy to picture. Picture her skin an eerie gray, her blonde hair dull and tangled. How her limbs would have been limp at her sides, maybe turned at an unnatural angle. He’d seen a lifetime’s worth of soldiers killed by war. Knew exactly the kind of damage a few rounds of bullets would have done to her body. The ragged flesh. The blood. And he couldn’t contemplate it because it messed with his head. Made his chest constrict, his damn hands shake, again.

  He drew a calming breath. “And then, there’s the part where you got a flash of the room. Sounds like you had it all under control.”

  He didn’t quite understand how she could get flashes. What conversion disorder was or if it meant her sight loss was only temporary, even if her dick of a colleague had alluded to it. Facts he’d unearth whether through her or Ice. His buddy was bound to know something, and Rigs would make damn sure he was an expert in conversion disorder before the next sunrise.

  Her mouth gaped open, and her eyes rounded. “You believe me?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Addison’s jaw clenched, and she tilted her head off to the side. She focused on his face for a while before granting him with a sweet smile. “Didn’t you say something about talking to SWAT?”

  “Yeah. We should probably head over. Would you like my arm or would you prefer to get there by yourself?”

  God, he hoped she wanted his arm. But he’d respect her decision. Understood that, after the confrontation with her former colleagues, she might want to prove her independence, even if just to herself. She didn’t have to prove how strong she was to him. Her strength showed through in the way she carried herself.

  Addison hesitated, still tapping her cane against the floor before giving his arm a squeeze. “You promise not to crash me into planter or statue?”

  Hell, no. She was under his protection, even if it was just for tonight. Just getting her out of there and seeing her safely home. He wouldn’t say those words out loud. Wouldn’t suggest she wasn’t capable of doing those things for herself. But it didn’t mean it was any less true. “Scouts honor.”

  “Then, lead on.”

  Chapter 6

  This was so much more than Addison had bargained for. And it had nothing to do with the attempted robbery. The armed men. She’d faced twelve years of that. Had spent her entire adult life in the line of fire. First, on the beat, then, as a detective. Narcotics hadn’t been an easy division to work in, but she’d held her own. Until the raid. Until her life had descended into darkness. Ground to a resounding halt. All of which had changed two hours ago. The moment she’d met Kent.

  She forced herself to swallow past the dry rasp of her throat. She was seated next to him in what she assumed was some sort of truck. It sounded big. Gravelly—like his voice. And he’d had to boost her up to get into it with her dress hampering her movements a bit. It had seemed innocent enough, except where she could still feel his hands around her waist. His body pressed against her back as he levered her up. She’d felt the firm planes of his chest and abdomen, not to mention the hard ridge at his groin.

  Not that it had surprised her. Cops weren’t that different from soldiers, and she knew the kind of adrenaline rush that accompanied any form of takedown. The high that heightened every sense—that demanded release. And there was no better release than sex.

  Not that they were going to have sex. Maybe the old Addy would have slid over—palmed his thigh. Suggested they find a mutual way to work off the pent-up tension. Ease that rock-hard bulge she’d felt between his legs. Stem the needy ache between hers. The one she hadn’t experienced since losing her sight. That was part of the reason she felt off-kilter.

&nbs
p; She barely knew Kent. And, yet… She’d felt an instant connection to him in the garden. One that had grown exponentially since then. But it was more than just physical attraction. Unspoken sexual chemistry. The entire time they’d spent talking to the SWAT leader, Kent had treated her as an equal. Like a regular member of his team. Not that she deserved anything less. But after being shunned by her friends and colleagues, it had come as a nice surprise.

  He was a nice surprise and completely out of her league.

  “You okay?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice, turning her head in his direction. Other than those two words, he hadn’t made a sound since leaving the foundation fifteen minutes ago. If it weren’t for the steady slap of the wipers across the windshield, the cabin would have been dead silent on his side of the truck.

  Not on hers. Even she heard the rough sound of her breathing. The loud pounding of her heart. Was it echoing through the cab as much as it was inside her head? Fast, hard beats that made her ribs shake. And all because of the man sitting beside her.

  She worked up a smile. “Fine. Why?”

  “You look exhausted. I thought if I was quiet, you might doze off, but you seem…edgy, now. Which is understandable after the night we just had. Not your typical fundraiser.”

  Of course, he’d picked up on her anxiousness. Just not the reason behind it. “It’s not the shooting. I realize I’m not the same person I used to be, but that wasn’t anything I haven’t faced before. I’m just…”

  Unnerved by you. By this unspoken spark between us that has me tied in knots. That I want to ask you to stay the night but have no idea how or if you’d even be interested.