Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (23 page)

“When are you due?” Belle asked.

“The beginning of March.”

“Better start racking up overtime now,” Rivers said. “On our salary, you’ll need it.”

Delgado raised Ramona’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. “No need. She’s my sugar mama.”

Ramona laughed. “Yeah, I’m really raking in the big bucks as a clerk at the city finance department. They do have a decent maternity leave policy, though.”

Both the Delgados were glowing. The light in Ramona’s eyes was unmistakable, and when she looked at her husband, it was clearly reflected in his too.

If Jackson and Belle ever had a family, that was how he wanted it to be: welcome. Happy. His gaze flickered toward Belle just as she reached for his hand under the table.

She gave him a small smile.

He smiled back.

It didn’t last long.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Elijah spoke under his breath, snapping Jackson out of his fixation with Belle.

Shifting in his seat, he turned his head to look where Elijah was staring.

The magic of the moment disappeared immediately. He didn’t feel a connection with Belle or anyone else, just a gnawing in his gut.

The table grew quiet as the others noticed the couple moving through the patio area, following a hostess toward one of the few remaining empty tables.

Sanders took a seat, followed by his wife. Then he looked up, toward their table.

Jackson’s heart slammed against his ribs, pumping pure venom through his veins. Having to see Sanders at work was bad enough, and running into him off the clock was worse. Seeing him parade his battered wife around was just wrong.

Not that there was any visible bruising on her face anymore. If there was any trace of it left, she’d covered it with makeup. Jackson would’ve been willing to bet her jeans and billowy white top hid other marks of her husband’s abuse, though.

When Sanders’ gaze locked with Jackson’s, he fought the urge to swear and demand to know what the fuck Sanders was doing there.

It seemed as if he followed Jackson everywhere lately.

His wife looked up briefly but quickly dropped her gaze. If Jackson hadn’t been watching so intently, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

After that, she seemed more interested in her menu than any human being had ever been interested in anything since the beginning of time.

Jackson was hit with a pang of pity, then frustration. He didn’t ask himself why she’d dropped the charges; he knew abusers like Sanders made it hard for their victims to act, to speak up. But the fact that she’d come so close to making a difference and had lost heart at the last second … it grated.

“He doesn’t look happy to see us here,” Elijah said.

“Why should he?” Still, Jackson didn’t know whether the look of hateful surprise was an act or genuine. There were dozens upon dozens of restaurants on the island – what were the odds he’d choose Captain Jack’s on the same night they had?

The place was popular, but so were plenty of other places. There was no shortage of fantastic food on the island – in that respect, it mirrored its neighboring city, Charleston.

“Is everything okay?” Belle’s clear voice pierced the veil of Jackson’s anger.

He spoke lowly, for her ears only. “See that guy at the table with the brunette in the white shirt? That’s Sanders.”

Belle’s jaw tightened visibly, but her eyes seemed to soften, transforming into dark pools of understanding.

“I’m guessing you had no idea he’d be here?”

Jackson shook his head. “Can’t seem to take a step without running into him lately. Don’t know what the deal is.”

South Island had a population of about sixty thousand; that should’ve been enough of a crowd for Sanders to get lost in.

After a few more unhappy murmurs, they all went back to their meals. What else could they do?

It wasn’t a crime for Sanders to show up at Captain Jack’s for dinner, though just about everything else he did seemed to be.

Whether or not the encounter had been intentional, the evening’s mood was ruined, at least for Jackson.

The farther Belle got from the table on the patio, the less tension there was in the air. Feeling mildly guilty, she breathed a sigh of relief and entered the restaurant, slipping into the women’s restroom seconds later.

The evening had started out well, and she’d had high hopes – hopes that Jackson’s co-workers would like her, that she’d be a little more acquainted with this aspect of his life by the time they left Captain Jack’s.

Then Sanders had rolled in like a storm cloud, striking Jackson with a sour mood.

She couldn’t blame him. Seeing the man she’d heard so many awful things about – and the woman he abused – made her stomach turn, too.

Reaching for a stall door, she stifled a sigh of frustration. It wasn’t fair that Jackson had to deal with Sanders’ crap at work and – seemingly – everywhere he went on his own time, too.

She stepped forward, pulling open the stall door, and nearly collided with a woman who emerged from the neighboring stall.

“Oh! Sorry…” The other woman’s ballet flats shuffled against the floor tiles, and Belle braced herself with a hand on a stall divider to keep from tripping backward.

“It’s okay.” Belle started to smile, her gaze catching the stranger’s.

The smiled died on her lips. Standing scarcely a foot from her was Kate Sanders, eyes wide and lips cracked.

For a split second, the silence was absolute.

“You’re with Officer Calder,” Kate said.

“Yes.”

“Tell him not to come by our house anymore.” Kate kept her voice low, and Belle could hear the tremor in it, along with a nervous, steely reserve. “Please.”

Belle was stunned, tongue-tied. She wanted to say something helpful, something intelligent. But what in the world could she say that Jackson couldn’t?

She couldn’t blame this woman for Jackson’s trouble at work when she was suffering so much worse at home.

“I’ll tell him what you said,” Belle promised, “but… You called him there for a reason, didn’t you?”

Kate shook her head, causing wisps of dark hair to float around her thin face. “It was a mistake. My husband and I fight occasionally, but who doesn’t? We love each other, and Officer Calder should stay away.” Her gaze darkened, her lips sinking at the corners. “Please make sure he doesn’t come by again.”

Belle opened her mouth to reply, but it was too late.

“Thank you.” Kate rushed past her, past the sinks and out of the restroom before Belle could say another word.

Alone, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d failed – missed an opportunity to make a difference.

Of course, that was probably ridiculous. No snippet of sympathy or wisdom whispered in a public restroom was going to change a battered woman’s mind or life. On a practical level, she knew that – on another, she felt bad for not being able to do anything.

Which was how Jackson felt all the time.

Minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom frowning, a newfound empathy for Jackson weighing her down.

Kate Sanders had already returned to her table with her husband, and wait staff had gathered around it. As Belle approached the table where Jackson and his co-workers sat, a waitress lowered a cake onto the Sanders’ table and led the group in a rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

Candlelight illuminated Kate’s smile, which looked forced.

Belle sank down into her seat beside Jackson, her stomach a mess of knots. The distress she’d heard in Kate’s voice was still ringing in her ears, and seeing her face lit by candlelight as the restaurant staff wished her well was incongruous.

Happy birthday? Kate seemed like someone starved for happiness, no matter what she’d said in the restroom. A deep pang of pity sliced through Belle, underscoring her worry for Jackson.

Negative emotion whirled around and through her, and Sanders was at the center of it all, like a cancer branching out into the lives of multiple people at once. It wasn’t fair that one person should be allowed to wreak havoc on so many lives.

“Belle?” Jackson’s voice called her attention back to the table.

“Yeah?” She turned to face him.

“Something wrong?” There was a certain degree of suspicion in his eyes, as if he somehow knew she’d spoken to Kate.

She tipped her head ever so slightly toward the Sanders’ table, where the birthday commotion was dying down. “I feel bad for her. And you.”

“Don’t waste your pity on me.” He took her hand, his fingertips rough against her wrist. “What do you say we get out of here soon? Go somewhere where we won’t run into anyone unexpected, or anyone at all.”

Her pulse fluttered just beneath the surface of her skin, beating against his fingertips.

If it hadn’t been for the Sanders’ appearance, she might’ve been reluctant to leave early. She liked seeing Jackson with his co-workers, his friends – seeing him in the world he’d worked so hard to make his own. It made that aspect of who he was – who he’d become during their years of separation – more real.

She liked that side of him, the one that wore a badge. It was clear he was driven to protect people, and the job suited him.

“Sounds like a good idea.” She kept her voice low, flashing him a smile as she squeezed his hand.

Not all cops were like Jackson, but at the moment, she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want him to have to think about it, either.

She wanted to make him happy, like he deserved to be – like he made her.

* * * * *

“That’s all she said.” Belle lay on her side in bed, the sheets stopping just below the pearl-white curve of one bare shoulder. “Well, that and that she and her husband love each other.”

She frowned, and Jackson sighed.

Fuck, he didn’t want Belle to be involved with this. But here she was, relaying messages whispered in a bathroom – messages from the battered woman he was allegedly having an affair with.

“Fucking Sanders.” His jaw ached, though making love to Belle had driven the tension out of the rest of his body.

“At least he didn’t make a scene at the restaurant.”

That was cold comfort, and not exactly a surprise since four other officers had been at Jackson’s side.

“He’s a coward. If he wants to start shit, he won’t do it when I’ve got four friends at my side and he’s got none.”

Belle shifted on her side. “I hate seeing you so stressed over this.”

Reflexively, he tried to hide it, to smooth his expression. But it was way too late – he’d been bitching about Sanders for weeks. “Sorry.”

She touched his temple, her fingertips combing through the edge of his hair. “I just meant that I hate that this is happening. I hope your lieutenant gets back soon and sends Sanders back to his old platoon.”

Yeah, but how much damage could Sanders wreck on Jackson’s reputation and career in that amount of time? It seemed as if that was what he was bent on doing, as revenge. He couldn’t just count on Lieutenant Aldred to swoop in like a mother hen and shield him from the consequences of Sanders’ bullshit.

He said so to Belle.

She frowned, tracing the line of his jaw.

He loved that she cared, but he hated to see her unhappy because of his problems.

“C’mon,” he said. “You let me talk too much. Don’t you have any problems you can lay on me so I don’t feel like this is so one-sided?”

Her lips quirked in a lightning-quick smile. “Well, nothing strange has happened at work lately. It seems as if the green dildo incident will forever remain a mystery. Sometimes I think I’d rather deal with awkward inanimate objects than our student worker though…”

She told him a story about some kid who couldn’t take a hint – the one whose hands she’d bandaged after he’d spilled hot coffee all over himself.

“Well, I can solve that problem for you tomorrow. What time does this kid show up at your office?”

She laughed. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, Jackson. He’s perfectly capable of hurting himself badly enough with just a hot beverage.”

He reacted reflexively to the sound of her laughter, grinning. “I never said I was going to hurt him. Scaring him would be a different story.”

“But you’re supposed to be a defender of the innocent – a protector of the people.”

He snorted. “I’ll gladly protect and serve you … twerps who think they can steal you away from me, not so much. Besides, you work in Charleston, and that’s out of my jurisdiction. Protecting Lothario Junior is somebody else’s job.”

“Ha ha. You’re all talk – I know you don’t have the heart to bully anyone.”

He leaned in close, breathing in her scent as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not as sweet as you seem to think. In fact, I’m the jerk who wrote you a traffic ticket, remember?”

“Hmm. Speaking of that…” She ran a hand over his bare hip and ribs, stopping with her palm over his heart. “I went ahead and paid the ticket – decided not to fight it in court.”

He froze as the heat of her touch spread through his chest. “You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

Shit. “I wasn’t going to show up for the court date, Belle.”

“Sure, you say that now…”

“I’m serious. I had other plans.”

She tipped her head back far enough to make eye contact with him and arched a brow. “What were they?”

The heat in his chest spread to his face. He was actually blushing, and it made him feel even more idiotic.

“I wasn’t going to show for court, but I was going to be waiting when you walked out of the courthouse in the clear. Figured you’d have the rest of the day off work, and I’d whisk you away for a romantic afternoon.”

“Really?” A handful of emotions flickered across her face in quick succession: skepticism, amusement and surprise.

“Yeah. It was gonna be a surprise.” Well, that ship had sailed straight up Shit Creek.

“Aww… See, you
are
as sweet as I thought.”

He snorted. “I tried.”

“We can still have the romantic afternoon, can’t we? And now you won’t have to feel guilty about letting a reckless lead foot off the hook.”

“It was your first ticket as an adult. I should’ve let you go.”

She shrugged. “Can’t blame you for wanting an excuse to see me again. At the time, you didn’t know things were going to work out this way.”

She gestured down at her naked body half-draped in sheets.

“You’ll have work on the day that was supposed to be our court date, won’t you? It was a Thursday.”

“For you, I’ll take the afternoon off.”

“All right. It’s a date.”

She wasn’t even mad. In fact, if the look on her face was any indication, she thought the situation was funny. He’d written her a ticket – fined her – and she was looking forward to their next date.

He couldn’t keep fucking up like that – women like her didn’t grow on trees. He wanted to keep her around like he wanted his next breath.