Broken

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “No. I need to do it.” She’d never believe Candy was dead without seeing for herself.

  Wolfe turned into a parking area near a large stone building and stopped the vehicle. “Force pulled some strings so you could do this tonight and not wait, but maybe tomorrow would be better? Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Yes.” She opened the door and jumped down, letting the heated rain wash over her face. The air closed in, full of moisture. She shut the door and walked around the front of the truck, where Wolfe grasped her elbow and hurried her toward the steps.

  A woman wearing jeans and a blue blouse waited just inside, opening the door for them. She had to be around sixty years old, with kind brown eyes, short brown hair, and ebony skin with laugh lines along her mouth. An ID badge had been clipped at her waist. “You must be Dana.”

  “Yes.” Dana shivered, even though the air-conditioning wasn’t set too high. Her stomach hurt, and her temples ticked with pain.

  The woman held out a hand. “I’m Betty Williams, and I’m a social worker with the coroner’s off ice.” They shook, and then Betty shook Wolfe’s hand before turning and starting down a long, clean hallway with cream-colored tiles and pictures of nature scenes on the walls. The building felt vacant at this late hour.

  She led them into a small conference room with a wooden table and two orange chairs on each side. “Please take a seat.”

  Wolfe pulled out Dana’s chair, waited until both women were seated, and then sat next to her.

  Dana bit her lip, her chest hurting. “When do we go to the morgue?”

  Across the table, Betty smiled. “We don’t. Identifications aren’t like on television.” She reached to the side of the table, where a manila folder had been set. “I have a photo of the victim the police have found, and I’ll hand it to you facedown. You can take all the time you need to turn the picture over.”

  Dana swallowed, her throat bone dry. “I don’t understand. There’s no body or sheet or anything?”

  “No.” Betty shook her head. “This is how we do identifications. You’ll see a picture of Candy’s face with blue blankets around her. I have to warn you that there is damage to the right side of her face and skull, so please prepare yourself if you can before you look.”

  Dana glanced at Wolfe, who wore no expression. He took her hand beneath the table, offering strength and reassurance. Even though they hadn’t been on the same page lately, she leaned closer to him. Thank goodness he’d insisted on driving and sitting next to her during this.

  Betty drew out a small clipboard with a picture attached to the top, facedown. She set it in front of Dana. “There is no hurry. I’m happy to stay here all night. Make sure you’re ready. I often recommend people take several deep breaths first.”

  The AC switched on, blowing quietly from a vent in the ceiling.

  Dana stared at the back of the picture. Maybe it wasn’t Candy. “How was she found? We haven’t heard any details.”

  “I don’t know,” Betty said softly. “I’m sure the police will want to speak with you, and they can give you all that information once we know for sure it’s Ms. Folks.”

  Wolfe released Dana’s hand and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth. “I can look for you, sweetheart. I know what Candy looks like.”

  She was tempted. So tempted. Instead, she reached out and turned the picture over, staring at her friend’s face surrounded by a blue blanket. A jolt of shock was followed by a numbing buzz and a chill through her body.

  Bruises covered the right side of Candy’s face, and it looked like her hair had been arranged in a way to hide more damage to her head. Her skin was stark white, and her lips were tinged blue. Dark eyelashes spread out beneath her closed eyes, hiding the green that Dana remembered. “That’s Candy Folks,” she said hollowly, the words sounding as if they were far away from her mouth and this room and reality.

  Wolfe pulled her closer to his body and reached out to turn the photograph back over. “Remember her from the good times,” he rumbled.

  Dana nodded, tears pricking her eyes. “Is that all?”

  “Yes,” Betty said, tucking the picture back into the folder. “I have a list of resources available to you, both short and long term.”

  Dana shook her head and stood, letting Wolfe take some of her weight. “Thanks, but I already have a shrink. I’ll talk to her.”

  Betty stood. “All right. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call our office.”

  Wolfe turned Dana, and she let him. As she stumbled next to him, the hallway tilted to the right, and the air felt like cement. “What happened to her face?” she asked, her ears starting to ring.

  “I don’t know,” Wolfe said, holding her as they walked through the building and out into the rain. “I promise I’ll find out.”

  Her knees gave as they exited the building, and Wolfe swept her up, striding through the rain and opening his door to sit in his truck. With the door shut, he cuddled her close.

  She took a deep breath and broke.

  * * *

  Feeling helpless, Wolfe held Dana tight as she sobbed against his chest. Helplessness quickly turned into anger, but he held her lightly, careful not to bruise her. Rain continued to pound through the muggy night, splattering on his windshield, making the windows fog. He let her cry and patted her hair, trying to be soothing.

  When the heat became too stifling, he gingerly started the truck and switched on the AC.

  Still, she cried. Her entire body shuddered, breaking his heart. No matter what happened, he’d avenge her friend.

  Finally, Dana’s tears subsided, and she rubbed her cheek against his chest. She looked up, her eyes the color of a misty meadow, tears streaking her smooth cheeks.

  “I’ll find whoever did it,” Wolfe said, his voice throbbing with the anger beating like a club in his heart. “I promise.”

  Dana nodded and gingerly moved off his lap as if she were a hundred years old. She pushed her hair off her wet face and fastened her seat belt, looking wounded and fragile on the large leather seat. “We need to find out how she died.”

  Wolfe put the truck into drive. “Force is already trying to get updates and should have more information tomorrow.” He didn’t much care what kind of favors their boss needed to use.

  He made a couple of turns and drove by a fast-food place. “You hungry?”

  “God, no.” She looked out the window, huddled in the seat.

  Four vehicles behind him, twin headlights followed, and had since they’d left the medical examiner’s office. He reached across Dana and drew his gun from the jockey box, setting the weapon on the seat next to him.

  “What’s happening?” Dana turned to look at him, her eyes weary.

  “Probably nothing.” He turned onto I-395 and merged with traffic, heading toward I-95.

  The headlights followed.

  Okay. He checked to make sure Dana’s seat belt was positioned correctly. “I need you to face front and put your hands in your lap.”

  She did so without argument. “Want me to shoot?”

  “No. Just keep your body aligned in case they hit us from behind. They’re in a car and we’re in a truck, so the impact shouldn’t do too much damage.” He maneuvered in and out of traffic, looking like he was in a hurry but not like he was running from anybody. The car kept pace behind him, not getting any closer.

  “They’re not bad,” he murmured, looking around for a second vehicle. Nothing stood out.

  Dana kept in position but glanced at the passenger-side mirror. “Are you sure they’re following us?”

  “No.” He merged onto I-95 S, not surprised when the car followed suit—along with tons of other traffic. “I’m going to exit in about ten minutes and drive fast, so get ready.”

  She swallowed audibly. “You’re already driving fast.”

  Yeah, he was. He angled to the right.

  “What do you think they’re waiting for?” She whispered, for some re
ason.

  “Fewer witnesses.” His instincts were humming, and he trusted them. “Or maybe they’re hoping to follow us home?” This sucked. He had to be careful with Dana in the car, damn it. “Hold on.”

  She reached for the dash.

  He took the exit at the last second, barreling down the road and making a fast right.

  Horns honked behind him, and the car swerved across three lanes to follow him. “Thought so,” he said grimly, reaching for the gun. “When I tell you to duck, you do it.”

  Gulping, she nodded, her eyes wide.

  He punched the gas and sped through a quiet, rundown commercial office area, yanking the wheel and zipping around a darkened dental office to the parking area in the back. “Get in the driver’s seat, get down, and get out of here if I yell.” He opened the door, jumped out, and ran toward the side of the building, where the car had just turned in.

  Lifting his hand, he squeezed off three rapid shots, continuing to walk forward. The first bullet hit the windshield above the driver’s head, shattering the glass. The next one hit the engine block, and the third the right front tire. The car veered to the left and drove over bushes and a nicely manicured lawn to smash into the glass front door. Its horn blared continuously.

  A building alarm instantly blasted through the rain.

  Wolfe ran to the car and ripped open the passenger-side door, yanking a bleeding man out and throwing him on the ground. He leaned in to find the driver slumped unconscious over the steering wheel.

  He flipped the guy on the ground over and set a knee in his chest and a gun in his face, searching him for weapons and finding a high-end Ruger SR, which he slid into his waistband with his free hand. “Who are you?”

  The guy was about thirty with dark hair and tattoos down the side of his face. “Screw you.”

  Wolfe punched him in the nose, and cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles. “Try again.”

  Blood spurted from the guy’s face and he put a hand over the wound, tears filling his eyes. “Fine. You have no idea who you’ve messed with. I’m C-Spike from the Seventh Street Warriors.”

  Great. A gang was after him. “What do you want with me?” He pressed the gun close to the guy’s no-doubt aching and broken nose.

  The guy turned slightly to see his buddy still passed out in the car.

  “You can tell. He can’t hear you, and if you don’t tell me, I’m going to kill you.” Wolfe meant every word.

  C-Spike spit out blood. “It’s a contract on the blonde. We were told she’d be at the medical examiner’s tonight or tomorrow morning. When she showed, we were to follow her and take her out somewhere discreet.”

  Ice-cold fury settled into Wolfe. “Who hired you?”

  “Don’t know. I swear. The order came from high up.” His words were slurred through the blood as rain pelted them without cooling off the night in the slightest. “I don’t even know her name.”

  “Make sure you never do.” Wolfe hit him in the temple, knocking him out.

  Sirens sounded down the road. He stood and ran to his truck, motioning Dana back to her seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Well after midnight, Dana fluffed her hair with a towel after a long shower and then padded into Wolfe’s bedroom dressed in shorts and a cami. The splattering of rain echoed all around, tinging against the wide skylight in the master bathroom. Even though it had been raining for hours, the air still hung heavy around them. The whir of the AC came on, and she lifted her head, breathing deep. The image of Wolfe calmly grabbing his gun and striding into the storm to confront those bad guys wouldn’t leave her mind.

  When she was with Wolfe, she always felt safe. Protected.

  Roscoe looked up from the foot of the bed, where he was not supposed to be. He gave her a look, snuggled his nose into his paws, and started snoring again.

  She left the bedroom to find Wolfe on the sofa, his bare feet crossed at the ankles on the coffee table. He’d changed into gray basketball shorts and a black tank top, and his hair was still wet from the rain. A case file lay open across his chest, and his head was back with his eyes closed.

  So this was how he slept.

  Whiskers covered his rugged jaw, giving him the look of a rebel. She let her gaze wander over his thick cheekbones, straight nose, and scar down the side of his face.

  “What are you doing?” He didn’t twitch.

  She jumped. “Looking at you.”

  He opened his eyes, and they appeared more topaz than brown in the darkened room. They swept her, head to toe, and her breasts actually tingled in response. His gaze moved back up, lingered on her chest, and finished on her face. “Have you been crying again?”

  She nodded, her throat thick. “In the shower.” It was a good place to cry, actually.

  “Come here.” He held out an arm.

  She hesitated for half a second and then walked over, sitting next to him on the sofa and leaning against him. He tucked his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

  She licked her lips, her body humming. “Wolfe—”

  “No.” He set his head back again and shut his eyes.

  Huh. “You don’t know what I was going to say.” Heck. Even she wasn’t sure.

  “Yes, I do,” he said, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. “It’s been a rough night and you’re feeling both vulnerable and happy to be alive. There’s this thing between us, we both feel it, and it’d be easy to fall in. It ain’t gonna happen again.”

  She couldn’t find the energy to drum up irritation at his confidence. “I believe that’s arrogant.” Except it wasn’t—not from Wolfe. A tear leaked from her eye. “I just don’t want to be sad any longer.” Why couldn’t they escape for another night?

  “If you’re sad, you feel sad.” He lifted her with one arm and settled her on his lap. “It’s okay to cry.”

  She didn’t want to cry. His lips were close, but rejection would sting. He was so solid around her. “Do you feel things like other people?”

  His eyelids opened. “No. I’m not sure I ever have, but definitely not after the explosion.” A vertical line showed between his eyes.

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you have feelings?”

  His right eyebrow rose. “Yeah. I haven’t turned into a sociopath or anything. My feelings are kind of under the surface and usually not as bright as before, but they’re still there. The numbness has made me a better fighter and a better soldier.”

  Was that true? It seemed that Wolfe cared about his team and about her, and loyalty was definitely a feeling. “I think you’re selling yourself short.” Her gaze dropped to his enticing lips again.

  They curved; an amused Wolfe was better than a grumpy one any day. “My feelings don’t matter.”

  “What does?” She placed her palm in the center of his chest, marveling at the hardness.

  “Your safety.” He planted his hand over hers. “It’s time for you to go to bed, Dana.”

  Darn her curiosity, because she was probably about to get her feelings hurt. “Don’t you want me?” She had to know.

  His pupils narrowed, and he shifted his weight, moving her slightly back. An erection beneath his shorts, hard and strong, pressed against her left buttock.

  Her mouth opened. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” Amusement now melded with need in his eyes. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in the forest outside of Hunter’s cabin, and after having you one night, without question I want more. A lot more.”

  “You still owe me an umbrella.” Her breath quickened, and heat rolled through her abdomen in slow motion. She’d been heading over to visit her buddy Hunter, and Wolfe had found her, dragging her to the cabin. Then he’d asked her out once Hunter had explained they were friends. The second she’d gotten to know Wolfe, he’d turned off the charm and had placed her in the friend zone. “You’re not responsible for everyone around you. You get that, right?”

  “Yeah.” His minty breat
h, with just a hint of whiskey, brushed her cheek. “However, things are about to get bloody. You need to be away from the danger in a safe house. I’m having Force look into one for you.”

  Hurt sliced through her. So that’s why he’d put her on his lap. With his arms around her, she couldn’t move. “No.”

  “Yes.” He leaned in, his gaze intense. “Somebody has taken a hit out on you. Even though I believe it was limited to those two morons tonight, you’re in danger. I need to know you’re safe while I take care of it.”

  “I’m a journalist, and I never get scared off a story.” It was really difficult to argue with that hard-on right beneath her. “Plus, I made a promise that I’d figure out who killed Candy and finish her story. You wouldn’t let anybody put you in a safe house.”

  “I don’t care.” For the first time, he dropped the gentlemanly act. “I’m done playing fair. You’re going to a safe house, and that’s final.”

  A laugh burst out of her before she could stop it. She clapped a hand over her mouth, struggling to regain control.

  His lids half-lowered, giving him the look he’d had as an undercover dom.

  Her amusement fled. She sobered. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m going to a family wedding on Saturday, and then I’m coming back and getting to work. You can’t stop me.” Okay. That was a childish challenge, and by the hardening of his already rock-solid jaw, he was about to pick it up. So she did the only thing a smart girl could do. She grabbed the sides of his head and kissed him, full on, her lips against his.

  Fire jolted through her at the contact, and she nibbled at his lips, giving herself free rein. He stiffened against her, his chest holding air, his body heated and tightened. Finally, she leaned back and released his head, disappointed but not surprised. “You have a lot of control.”

  His eyes had darkened and deepened. “Do I?” The dark rumble of his voice skimmed over her skin.

  She shivered. “Um, yes?” Why couldn’t she breathe?

  He grasped the front of her neck, his large hand easily spanning the entire width. Gently, he drew her closer to him. “Dana? You have one second to get your ass safely to bed. I suggest you do it.”