by Mona Shroff
Crista glared at him, burning holes right through him. “Daniel!” Personal stuff had no place on the job. Besides, if there was no other family, little Nick was headed into the system for the foreseeable future, just based on Mark’s activities tonight.
But Mark was staring at him. “No—of course not!” He looked wildly around and tried to sit up. “I need to get to him.”
Daniel pushed him down. “You’re not going anywhere except into this ambulance and onto the helicopter. Your family will watch Nick until we get you patched up.”
“My brother. Call my brother.”
Crista took the brother’s information as Daniel did a sweep of the area to make sure they had gathered all of their equipment, and that was when he saw her. Annika Mehta. He would have missed her in the dark, except that she stood under a streetlight. For the third time that night, Daniel froze midjob. Her wild curls were pushed into a ponytail, but the curve of her jaw and cheekbones were already familiar to him. She was unmistakable. Was it possible that she was even more striking now?
She wore a dark apron with Phil’s Place emblazoned across it. In the dim light of the street, her brown skin looked almost golden, and she didn’t smile at anyone. As he watched her, she folded her arms across the name and shivered in the cool air. An older man with salt and pepper in his beard started herding people back into the bar. Her gaze passed over Daniel, and he had the sensation of being scanned. She was too far away for him to know if she recognized him, but then how could she? She had never even opened her eyes that night. His stomach did a flip at the possibility.
The older man spoke. “All right, now. Nothing left to see. Come on back in. Next round’s on the house.”
Daniel was lost in her movements as she slowly turned and followed the customers back into the bar. She hung her head slightly, and as she passed the older man, he rested a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her face to him and smiled. Daniel just barely caught that smile in the faded light, but it put his heart in a viselike grip. He couldn’t remember ever having seen something so beautiful, yet so sad.
“Daniel!” Crista called out to him. “If I have to corral you in one more time tonight...!” Crista always looked out for Daniel, but she couldn’t be expected to save lives alone.
“Yeah, okay. I’m with you.” Daniel took an extra second and caught a quick glimpse of Annika Mehta through the large window of the bar. She was behind the bar, pouring beers, warmth exuding from her very being. A few pieces of hair escaped the ponytail, and she tucked them behind her ear. The movement was so casual, yet so intimate, that Daniel suddenly longed to be the one tucking back those rogue pieces of hair himself.
“Goddamn it, Daniel!”
The trance broken, Daniel forced himself to break his gaze. He followed Crista to the ambulance that took them and their patient to the chopper.
Once back in flight, Daniel focused on a now-compliant and regretful Mark and getting him safely to the surgeons who could help him.
Thoughts of Annika standing in the streetlight floated in and out of his mind, unbidden. Her smile warmed him. He could think of nothing else except what it might feel like to hold her again. A tiny amount of lightness crept into him. This was all new to him. He hadn’t felt anything like this in almost five years.
It felt like hope.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNIKA
ANNIKA SHIVERED IN the night chill while the EMTs tended to the gunshot victim. Well, the victim had fired first, clearly distraught by the death of his wife. He’d gone on and on about it inside the bar. Annika hadn’t really paid him much attention. Her mind was still reeling from the realization that one of her student’s parents had quite bluntly insulted her on the basis of her skin color. On her very first day teaching.
When the distraught man had pulled the gun on himself, Phil had pushed the button that he’d always had in his bar—the one that summoned the police. Phil managed to talk the man outside before the cops showed. One thing led to another, and before Annika knew what was happening, the man had fired his gun at the police, who were forced to return fire.
She glanced up in the night sky as she heard the helicopter, and shortly thereafter a fire engine arrived. Two flight medics disembarked the chopper. They approached the EMTs with the calm sense of urgency that was second nature to emergency personnel.
The one in the lead was tall and well built—that was apparent even in his flight suit. His stride was long and purposeful, and Annika could tell from where she stood that he was completely unaware of his own presence and was singularly focused on his patient. He called for light and began to prepare his patient for helicopter travel. He spoke to the EMT, then he froze.
Annika watched him with curiosity. Working in a bar, she had seen more than one paramedic administer care. But she’d rarely seen one falter at the scene. He had been listening to the EMT as he worked, and suddenly, in the middle of a life-saving situation, he’d stopped. It was only for a second or two, before he gathered himself. But by then it looked like his partner had taken over.
Once they stabilized their patient, the medics packed their stuff and made to leave. The one in charge looked in her direction and stopped. As if he knew her. Annika did not meet his gaze. Men often looked at her, and she found the easiest thing was to not make eye contact. Who had given him permission to look at her like that? Was he looking at her because she was brown? Was that something people noticed all the time? She’d never had these thoughts before today.
No, this man was looking at her like he knew her. Ridiculous. He didn’t know her.
No one really did.
CHAPTER FOUR
DANIEL
DANIEL LEANED ON his bike and closed his eyes against the intermittent flashing of the Phil’s Place sign. He could still see red light pulsing from behind his eyelids. She was in there. He should go in. He wanted to go in. Last night, he’d stood in this spot for an hour, then gone home. There was alcohol in there. And while he and alcohol were not enemies, they certainly were not friends.
He caught his reflection in one of the windows to Phil’s Place and quickly looked away. Large windows gave him a view of the older man with salt-and-pepper hair standing behind the bar. The red neon Phil’s Place sign obstructed his view of anything more.
He didn’t even want a drink. But Annika Mehta was in there.
Jesus Christ. He didn’t know what disgusted him more: his fear of a drink or his fear of facing a woman.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Before he could think too much more about it, he grabbed the wrought-iron door handle and pulled. A couple of scantily clad young girls followed by a couple of very drunk young men nearly fell on him as he opened the door. Much giggling ensued as Daniel pushed past them.
Daniel braced himself for the stale aroma of old alcohol and the dank darkness typical of such establishments. He paused at the welcoming aroma of hearty food in the well-lit, simply appointed establishment. A piano in the corner caught his eye. He firmly ignored it.
Phil’s Place bustled, even at nine thirty on a Thursday night. The door jingled, announcing his entrance, but no one seemed to care. He found himself a spot at the bar and dipped his chin in the older man’s direction. Must be Phil. He was expertly filling beers and nodded his acknowledgment. Daniel waited.
He scanned the place, looking for that ponytail. Wouldn’t it just be his luck that he came in on the day that she was off? But what if she was here? What would he say to her anyway? He should leave. If he told her how he knew her, it would only bring to the surface something she may want to forget.
This was a bad idea. He turned on his stool and made to leave when a woman’s voice called to him.
“Weren’t you here the other night?”
Daniel turned to face mahogany-brown eyes that were narrowed at him. The woman’s lips were pursed, and her brow furrowed with the question. She
wore her hair back in a ponytail, which Daniel knew hid beautiful dark tight curls. Even though he’d walked in here looking for her, he was caught off guard, and a few extra seconds ticked by before he gathered himself to speak. A slight flush built in her cheeks as he stared at her.
“Um, no. I think I would remember that.”
“Sure, you were here—with the fire engine.” She pointed to his jeans and T-shirt. “You were wearing a uniform, but I’m pretty sure it was you.”
“Ah, yes. The gunshot victim.” Daniel nodded. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Yeah. You were the one who faltered.” There was no challenge in her voice, just fact.
“Excuse me?”
“You just stopped in the middle of treating that man.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I saw. Most people watch the victim. I watch the medics.” She shrugged. “Excuse me if I stepped on your manhood.”
Daniel grinned. She’d noticed him. “I hesitated a moment, and my partner took over.” He studied her face. “In any case, it happens almost never. And my partner is great.”
“So, I wasn’t wrong. You faltered.” She waved her hand at the bar. “Can I get you something?”
Her flowery scent wafted toward him as he sat down again. “Bourbon. Rocks.”
She left to retrieve his drink without so much as another word. He tried not to stare as she chose the bottle and the glass, plunking a large ice cube into it before pouring him two fingers of what looked like relatively cheap bourbon. Her movement was fluid and graceful. She was just a couple of inches shorter than Phil, whom Daniel put as a couple of inches shorter than his own six foot one.
Phil muttered something to her that made her smile and shake her head as she walked back to Daniel with his drink. The smile transformed her. It was light and pure and filled with humor. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of that smile.
So lost was he in her smile and movements that he startled when she set his drink down. He swirled it around. Say something. Conversation was not coming easy. Forget conversation—speaking was a challenge. Annika walked away.
Daniel stared at the drink. It wasn’t that he couldn’t control how much he drank. It was what happened to him when he did. He let everyone believe that he had stopped drinking because he couldn’t afford to lose his job, but the truth was something darker.
“Aren’t you going to drink it?” Annika was back, a look of bewilderment on her face.
“I don’t drink.”
“You know this is a bar?” She raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly, as if he were daft. “And that is a drink.”
He could watch her talk forever.
“Yes.” Wow, he was a stirring conversationalist. Why was he here? He should just drop some cash and leave and never return. No good was going to come of this. There was a reason he didn’t get involved with women. Just like there was a reason he didn’t drink bourbon.
She shrugged and started to leave again.
“I’m not an alcoholic.” The words spilled out of him.
“Okay. If you say so.” She started walking away.
“In case you were thinking I was some sort of alcoholic, testing myself or something.”
“Whatever.” The smile was gone, replaced by impatience.
“It’s just that the effects of alcohol remind me...of things.” Things he needed to forget. Why was he explaining himself? “Anyway, I haven’t had a drink in a while.”
“Listen, I’m not your AA counselor or whatever. Drink it, don’t drink it, I do not care. Either way, you owe me eight bucks.”
Daniel stared at her. She wore her brashness like a shield. Like something she could put on as needed. Or take off. He had a feeling it did not come off very often or for just anybody.
“Hey, Annika.” A young man with a very trim beard and glasses nodded as he walked past Annika and donned an apron similar to hers.
Annika’s face brightened. “Hey, Bobby.”
“Harassing the customers again, or just the hot ones?” He swept his approving glance over Daniel as he tied his apron.
Daniel bit back a grin as Annika flushed before him yet again. Even through her silky brown skin, the deep color broke through. Annika folded her arms across her chest and pointedly turned her back on Bobby.
Even so, a wave of jealousy passed over Daniel as he observed the easy familiarity between Annika and Bobby. No. Nothing weird about that. Nothing messed up about sitting in this bar with a drink he wasn’t going to touch, either. This was a mistake. He opened his wallet to pull out some cash. He shouldn’t have come to begin with.
“You want food, since you’re just observing your alcohol?” Her voice had softened a bit.
His stomach growled. He had forgotten to eat. “What’s good?”
“It’s Baltimore.”
“So, something with crab?”
She shrugged, her arms still crossed. “Mrs. P. makes the best cream of crab soup. All those fancy seafood places are no competition.”
“Okay, I’ll have that.”
“Should I bring you a spoon so you can eat it or you going to just stare at it?” Her lips turned into a snarky half smile, which felt like it was just for him. “I mean, you might be a vegetarian who just likes to order crab soup.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Bring the damn spoon.”
She was trying hard to be tough. Not let anyone in. Daniel recognized that for sure.
He couldn’t help watching Annika while he waited for his soup. Her regular customers were fond of her, and the new ones were clearly taken by her warmth. Underneath all that sass, Annika was quick to put on a genuine smile for her customers. It just wasn’t the same one she saved for people close to her. Like Phil, who seemed more like an uncle to her than a boss, the way he held her shoulder and spoke quietly, concern and amusement taking turns on his face.
The bourbon sat steadfast in his periphery. The ice melted, changing the color from a deep golden to a weak yellow. Condensation collected on the glass and dripped down the side.
Not that Daniel noticed.
He imagined the warm liquid sliding down his throat, relaxing his muscles and making him forget. It was dangerous to forget. Mostly because once the alcohol wore off, he was forced to remember. It was remembering that ruined him every time.
He pointedly ignored the weakening amber liquid and focused instead on Annika. He easily recalled how her body had fit perfectly with his when he’d held her. How he was able to give her a modicum of comfort when she had clung to him as if he were a lifesaver and she was drowning. How, in her sorrow, she had needed him, and how he, too, had ended up finding comfort with her in his arms.
His phone buzzed and displayed a picture of a pretty brunette with green eyes. Emma. At least once a day, every day.
Though Emma’s call never irritated him, today he wanted to watch Annika. “Hey, Em.”
“Did you eat?” The beauty of siblings was that you could forgo the niceties, like Hello. How are you? Or so Emma believed.
“I’m eating now.” He glanced toward the kitchen. He would be eating soon.
“Great.” Pause. “So, Daniel, how about coming up this weekend, taking Charlie fishing? Michael’s away and I don’t know anything about fishing.”
“Sorry. I can’t. Working.” He cringed inwardly at his lie. Whatever, he’d pick up another shift and then it would be true.
“Yeah, okay.” She sighed deeply. She knew he was lying, but Daniel knew she wouldn’t press it. “Make sure you eat.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Call Mom sometime.”
“I just talked to her.” Big sisters were so bossy.
Annika was laughing at something Bobby said. That green monster reared its head in Daniel’s belly. He barely registered Emma’
s voice.
“Last week.”
“Mmm. Okay. I’ll call them.”
“Love you.” She hung up.
It wasn’t unusual or even unexpected that Emma was concerned about his eating, since he had gone a period where he routinely forgot to do even that. She also believed that Daniel would heal if he spent some time with his nephew. But even seeing Charlie once or twice a year at a family function that he forced himself to go to was too hard. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Charlie. Was it last year or maybe the year before? Jeez. He was a crappy uncle.
Charlie had been born a week before his Sara. The little boy was like a little clock, marking the passage of time. Right now, Charlie’s clock had wound through ten years. Sara’s clock had stopped five years ago.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANNIKA
ANNIKA PUT IN the soup order, then tended to her regulars. They didn’t study her; they were so involved in escaping their own sad lives they couldn’t be bothered to pay any more attention to her than was required.
She refilled drinks and wiped off tables, her head filled with so many thoughts that she didn’t hear Mrs. P. banging the bell to indicate the soup was ready. It wasn’t until Phil was standing in front of her that she looked up.
“What’s going on, Anni? Still letting that bigoted parent get to you?”
No one called her Anni. Her name was Annika, and she always insisted people take the extra millisecond to say the last syllable. But when Phil said it, he filled those two syllables with so much affection that Annika couldn’t yell at him. Though right now it made her want to cry.
“No.” She forced a smile. It had been a few weeks since all that, but it still got to her from time to time. “Maybe a little. Just everything.”
“You need some extra time off?” Phil shook his head.
“No, Phil. Really, I need to come in. Besides, it’s been five months since...” She trailed off. She still couldn’t say it. What kind of wimp wallowed for five months? She hadn’t been pregnant that long, just under three months, though she had been with Steven for close to a year. Her pregnancy had been thoroughly unexpected, and to say that it had caused uproar in her family was an understatement.
