Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (15 page)

“Just put it in your purse,” Mariah said. “You never know when you might need it.”

Belle gazed down at the object in her hand. It looked like a tube of lipstick, except it was a little too big to be believable. “What if I forget what it is and give myself a face full of pepper spray while trying to touch up my make-up?”

Mariah rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t roll on. You have to uncap it and press down on it a certain way. Let me show you.”

Mariah gave Belle a tutorial on how to use the pepper spray disguised as lip stick. “It was either this or a stun gun. I figured this’d be better because the spray is dyed and leaves a stain. So if you ever have to spray someone, they’ll be marked. That’ll make it easier for the police to identify your attacker. Speaking of cops…”

Mariah gave the pepper spray back to Belle and leaned back on the couch, the picture of leisurely curiosity. When Belle didn’t respond right away, she arched a brow.

Belle had already told her that she and Jackson were seeing each other. She just hadn’t gone into any detail yet.

“How’s it going so far with you and Jackson?” Mariah prodded. “You’re so tight-lipped about it, I feel like a hostage interrogator every time I bring it up.”

Belle bit down on her inner lip. “It’s going well. It’s just that talking about it kind of feels like jinxing myself.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “After the way things blew up with me and You Know Who, I feel self-conscious talking about relationships. I guess I’m afraid whatever I say will come back to bite me in the ass later if things don’t work out. I gushed to everyone about the engagement… Then when it was off, I wanted to go into the Witness Protection Program. It was so freaking embarrassing.”

Mariah frowned. “I get it. But you know, talking to me isn’t like talking to anyone else. Anything you say stays between us, and if
anyone
ever betrays you like that loser did, you know I’ll be the first to tell you you’re better off without them.”

Belle nodded. “We’ve been on a few dates. They were … great, if I’m being honest. Better than anything I ever had with You Know Who. Just simple stuff – the beach, and dinner.”

“He hasn’t pressured you for sex, has he?”

Heat crept into Belle’s cheeks. “Not at all.”

“Just making sure he didn’t make any presumptions. You know, with your history… Some guys think a one-time green light gives them a lifetime free pass.”

“Jackson’s not like that. It was like you said – he wanted to pursue something more serious than what we had years ago.”

“Good.”

“And although he didn’t pressure me…” The heat in Belle’s cheeks increased, sparking a feeling of satisfaction. “We have slept together.”

Mariah’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for sex?”

“I said I wasn’t ready for anything casual. We’ve both agreed to pursue a relationship, so…” She shrugged.

“Ha! I knew you couldn’t resist him.”

Belle tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t. “He
is
pretty irresistible. And I don’t mean just his looks or his uniform. He seems to be just as nice of a guy as I remember, if not more so.”

“You always had a soft spot for him. I’m glad he didn’t turn out to be a disappointment.”

“Well, it’s still early days…” She couldn’t stop herself from tacking the disclaimer on. It was a defensive mechanism, a souvenir of her relationship with Kyle.

Deep down, though, she didn’t think Jackson would disappoint her. At least not with the flair and thoroughness that Kyle had. At his core, Jackson was a good guy. That was more than she could say for her ex-fiancé.

“Hey. You don’t have to worry about saving face with me, remember?”

Belle let herself smile. “Sorry, it’s a reflex. I’m not sure what I’m more embarrassed about: how it all ended or that I dated him at all.”

“He was a real douche. But hey, live and learn, right?”

“I could’ve done without a hands-on lesson on what a douche he turned out to be, but yeah, sure.”

Belle deliberately changed the topic, asking Mariah about work.

As an ER nurse, she usually had a string of colorful stories up her sleeve when she and Belle got together. Belle would rather hear those stories – no matter what kind of bodily fluids they might involve – than harp about her ex.

“Oh, you mean I haven’t told you about the patient who tried to pass off a Pomeranian bite as a shark bite?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Of course not.” Mariah grinned.

“Why would anyone do that, let alone think they could fool anyone?”

“The dog belongs to the patient, and she loves it to death. Apparently. Her husband, on the other hand, says the dog is the bane of his existence. It bit her on the arm while she was trying to give it a bath, and she hid the wound from her husband for three days. Then it got infected…”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. She’d gone to the beach a few days before, and she told him she’d been bitten by a baby shark.” Mariah shrugged. “He was the one who brought her into the ER, so she had to stick with the story. Of course, it didn’t take much effort for the doctor to get the truth out of her. When he told her it looked like a canine bite, she started crying.”

“What did her husband do?”

“I’m not sure if he was even surprised, to tell the truth. I mean, a baby shark bite?”

Belle giggled, and Mariah did the same.

“Some days,” she said, “I love my job. The entertainment value is priceless – I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

“People are weird.”

“I know. Listen, I know you changed the subject on purpose, but about you and Jackson – do you want to come to dinner at my place this weekend?”

Belle sat up straighter. “Do
you
want us to?”

“I’ve started seeing this guy. We’ve only been on a couple dates, and I don’t know if it’s going anywhere, but I’ve been bragging to him about my chicken piccata. I’m planning to make it for him this weekend and it’d be fun if you and Jackson came over too. Like a double-date.”

“I can ask. I’m not exactly sure what his work schedule is this weekend, but I know he’s on day shift right now, so an evening might work.”

“Great. I want to see you two together.”

“So long as you don’t bring up anything embarrassing. Like You Know Who.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“No. The fact that I was engaged and got dumped by my cheating fiancé isn’t exactly a conversation topic I’m eager to bring up, believe it or not.” The thought of sharing that pathetic facet of her past with Jackson almost made the Witness Protection Program seem appealing again.

“I won’t say anything about it. You have my word.”

* * * * *

Around noon on Saturday, Jackson pulled into Tempest Café’s cramped parking lot. The only open space was beside cruiser number 506 – Elijah’s ride. He took it, parking his identically painted Dodge Charger beside it.

The sun beat down on the back of his neck as he approached the building.

“Meeting someone,” he told the hostess after stepping inside.

Elijah was waiting in a corner booth, and Jackson joined him.

“Don’t get enough of me at home, huh?” He settled into one side of the booth, peeling off his sun glasses. Elijah had texted him half an hour ago and asked him to meet him at Tempest for lunch.

Elijah set down his sweet tea, apparently unamused. “I heard something today you ought to know.”

“What?”

They were interrupted by a waitress. Not Ashley, thank God – she would’ve hung around forever, making it impossible for them to talk. In contrast, this woman seemed busy and unfazed by their presence. After taking their orders, she disappeared.

Elijah maintained his grip on his glass, looking down at it and frowning as if they’d forgotten to put sugar in his tea.

“Sanders is spreading a rumor that you’ve been sleeping with his wife.”

“What?” Jackson’s blood pressure skyrocketed so quickly that he half expected the top of his skull to blow off.

“It’s fucked up, I know.”

For what seemed like an eternity, he didn’t know what to say. His gut tied itself in knots, and suddenly, the scents of frying food that wafted from the kitchen were repulsive.

“What the fuck?” he eventually got out. “Since when?”

“Delgado tipped me off this morning. Apparently Sanders has been feeding the platoon his bullshit all week, ever since he transferred.”

“So this is how he figures he can discredit me,” he eventually said, his temples throbbing. “By making it look like his wife and I are having an affair behind his back and conspiring against him.”

“It’s a bullshit plan. Completely transparent.”

“Yeah, and it’s bullshit that he’s not waiting on a court date right now, too.” Jackson gave an irritated jerk of his head, trying and failing to shake the ache from his skull.

For all their oaths and responsibilities, police officers were as bad as sitcom housewives when it came to gossip. Rumors grew legs and spread through the department like roaches. The idea of Jackson fucking Sanders’ wife was about as juicy as it got.

“Guess I know why Harding was such a dick the other day.” Personal – that was what Harding had called the conflict between Jackson and Sanders. Well, now it made perfect fucking sense. “Fuck.”

If Harding believed Sanders’ lies, who else might?

“He’s making it out like he transferred over to our platoon to keep an eye on you.”

Jackson opened his mouth, and Elijah shook his head.

“I know it’s fucking absurd. I’m just telling you what he’s saying.”

The waitress brought their sandwiches, and Jackson forced himself to shovel his down. It tasted like wet cement. Elijah’s revelation had sucked any possibility of enjoying anything right out of his day.

* * * * *

Jackson knocked on Belle’s door at a quarter after seven on Saturday evening, right on time. She hurried to answer it, her long earrings swinging and brushing her neck. She already had her sandals on and had just dabbed perfume above her collarbones and on the insides of her wrists. On her way to the door, she grabbed her purse and the bottle of wine she’d chosen as a hostess gift.

“Hey,” she said, taking in the sight of Jackson standing on her doorstep dressed in a buttoned charcoal shirt and bone-grey pants ironed with precise creases. “Wow, you look great.”

He’d rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms in that way she assumed men did to drive women crazy with lust. It was especially appealing on him, showcasing his muscle and the ink that spiraled all the way to his left wrist.

“Not half as good as you.” He met her eyes, then allowed his gaze to slide slowly down.