In the Line of Duty: First Responders, Book 2 (7 page)

“You still hungry? There’s food left.”

“I don’t know. I turned this into a major downer, didn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You can’t keep up intensity like that forever.” He smiled at her, a teasing little grin. “How about dessert?”

“It’s not cake in a cup. You have me curious.”

He turned and reached into the cooler and took out two bowls and a small plastic container. “Blueberry bread pudding. With caramel sauce.”

Her mouth watered. She adored bread pudding. How could he have possibly known that? She watched as he poured the rich caramel on the square of pudding and handed it over.

The first bite was pure heaven.

“You didn’t make this yourself,” she said, savoring another bite.

“I told you I could cook. Besides, it’s an easy recipe.”

She looked over at him. “Are you for real, Jake? Is there anything you can’t do?”

A shadow passed over his face, and he stabbed his own square of dessert with a savageness she didn’t expect.

“There’s a thing or two,” he replied, his jaw clenching as the dessert remained on his fork, temporarily forgotten.

Jake figured he could tell her. She’d opened up a little about herself and she’d understand right enough. But Kendra clearly wasn’t interested in starting anything up beyond today’s little episode, and he wasn’t into soul sharing. Never mind the little tidbit she’d revealed about herself. She’d been the kid of a drunk, but she wasn’t the one to blame.

No, Jake’s problem was that it was his fault. What couldn’t he do? Well, he wasn’t that great at protecting people, was he? And the problem with that was when he failed, people died.

Or worse. He’d come to the quick understanding that there were worse things than death.

“Jake?”

Her voice drew him out of the darkness and he forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle. “Sorry. Once you’re finished, maybe we should go.”

He tried to ignore the flash of hurt he saw on her face at the sharp tone of his voice. It wasn’t her fault. Or maybe it was. This was why he stayed away from women in general. He certainly hadn’t expected the afternoon to go the way it had. What he’d planned had been very different. Methodical. Getting to know her better, a little flirting, maybe a kiss goodbye. But he’d found himself in the moment and he’d improvised.

He’d improvised her right out of her clothes, hadn’t he? And he’d wanted desperately to bury himself inside her. He’d never seen anything as erotic as watching her come apart beneath his hands.

“If that’s what you want.” Her voice was small now, and he forced himself to turn and look her fully in the face.

“You were right, Kendra. Today was…it was great. But we’re really not very well matched, are we? We both have baggage and neither of us is going to change who we are. This probably shouldn’t go any further.”

Her skin seemed to pale, but she nodded and straightened her shoulders. “I think you’re right,” she answered.

He packed up the picnic basket while she folded their towels and pulled her shorts and T-shirt back over her suit. What he hated most was how he actually felt guilty about this afternoon. Guilty for getting out and enjoying the day. Guilty for flirting with a woman when he knew it would never lead anywhere.

And most of all, guilty for forgetting. He should never forget. Khaterah—what happened to her—should never be forgotten. It was why he chose to serve the drinks rather than drink them. A man could only stay numb for so long before he had to face himself. And a constant state of numbness had dishonored her. Dishonored them all. At least with the pain, he was alive.

The drive back to the pub was quiet. Kendra sat stiffly beside him on the truck seat, staring out the window. Thankfully, it was a short drive back over the Cornwallis River and on towards Jake’s. The parking lot was empty except for her car and he pulled up beside it. There was no point in asking her in. No point in pretending this had been anything but a disaster.

Well, maybe it hadn’t been at the beginning. Or even in the middle…

“Thanks for the afternoon,” she murmured, her hand on the door handle.

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sort of sound. “Hard to know what to say, isn’t it?”

She looked over at him. “Whatever it is…I get it, Jake. I know what it’s like to not want to talk about it. You’re right about the baggage part. Still, it’d be nice to carry on without hating each other, right?”

“I never hated you,” he said, forcing himself to keep his hands on the steering wheel or else he’d be reaching for her again. Her voice was too soft and too sweet.

“I never hated you either,” she replied, and then grinned. “Much.”

He took a deep, fortifying breath. “Kendra—”

“No, don’t,” she advised, looking in his eyes. She had the most amazing blue eyes, honest and expressive and generously lashed. “There were some really good parts about today, and I don’t want to ruin that. I haven’t…” Her cheeks colored adorably. “I haven’t felt like that in a long time, Jake. I needed it. I don’t want to be sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. Just sorry I ruined it with my mood.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

She smiled again. “Me either. So…I’ll see you around, right?”

“Hard to avoid it in a town this size,” he answered, but at her disappointed look, he amended, “Not that I want to.”

But the afternoon was ending on a low note anyway. She opened her door and grabbed her tote bag. “See ya,” she said, shutting the door and going to her car.

He watched her walk away, watched her toned butt sway gently as she went to her car and unlocked the door. He was still sitting in the truck when she pulled out of the driveway in a puff of dust.

Chapter Five

Every cop she’d ever met hated responding to a possible fatality. It didn’t happen here much, being a small community and all. But tonight she’d received the call about a two-vehicle accident on the highway, just after the skies had opened during a terrific thunderstorm. It was perfect hydroplaning conditions, and she’d hit the lights and sirens to rush to the scene.

The ambulance wasn’t even there yet, so she left the lights flashing and blocked off the lane. A car was pulled over to the side with its four-way flashers blinking. At Kendra’s approach, a woman got out. Her face was streaked with tears. “I can’t get down the ditch,” she said, her voice hitching. “My hip won’t take it, but I called 9-1-1 as soon as it happened. Oh my God…” The woman started weeping noisily.

“You did fine,” Kendra assured her. “Stay here, clear of the road and the vehicles, okay?” The last thing she needed was someone else getting hurt. Heart pounding, she ran down the sloped ditch to check on the victims.

The man in the first car was injured but awake, pinned inside the vehicle and unable to get out. “Are you okay?” she asked through the window.

He nodded.

“I can’t get you out,” she called. She’d have to leave that to the fire department and paramedics. She could already hear other sirens in distance. “But help is on the way.” She went to the other vehicle, a small compact car with the front end obliterated from the head-on crash. Inside was a young woman, her body strangely twisted even though her seatbelt remained fastened.

Kendra forced herself to breathe, but when she did so she could only smell rubber and metal and something else she recognized and hated—blood. She swallowed against the sudden taste of bile and carefully opened the door. “Okay, darlin’, help’s on the way. Stay with me now, okay? You stay awake.”

The rain had stopped, and the only sounds now were the wet shush of the odd car passing them on the highway and the drip of the water from the nearby bushes. The woman’s eyes opened and Kendra felt panic thread through her veins. God, she couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. “What’s your name?”

The young woman’s lips opened but no sound came out. Kendra’s panic threatened to overwhelm her, and she knew she had to keep it together. “The ambulance is almost here, darlin’. You a student at the university?”

She gave a small nod, hardly noticeable except Kendra was searching for any sort of movement or reaction. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

The girl’s eyes closed and she went very still. Kendra reached in and felt for a pulse. “Come on now, they’re almost here! Hold on, okay?”

But there was no beat against her fingertips.

Maybe it was just thready and she wasn’t able to feel it with her fingers. The ambulance pulled up and Gabe Brenner hopped out, followed quickly by another paramedic, Mike. It was immediately followed by the first fire truck. She looked up as they approached. “Hurry, Gabe, I can’t get a pulse.”

“The other car?”

“He was trapped but stable when I checked him,” she answered as Gabe rushed down the ditch.

She stepped back to let Gabe and Mike in. While they examined the girl, Chris Jackson hurried to her, big and bulky in his gear.

“The other car,” she said shortly. “He’s pinned in. You might need to cut him out, Chris.”

He spun and called up to the other guys on the truck before running to the car. Kendra needed to slow down her heart rate and take a breath, soothe the adrenaline shooting through her veins. But there wasn’t much chance. Gabe and Mike turned around to face her again.

“She’s gone,” Gabe said, strain showing around his eyes. “Sorry, Kendra.”

With the image of the girl’s still face behind her eyes, Kendra turned around and threw up in the tall grass of the ditch.

The pub was quiet for a Thursday evening. The thundershower earlier had kept people from stopping on their way home, Jake supposed, and things were pretty relaxed behind the bar. The staff joked with each other and the few patrons sitting at the table, and Jake told Marlene, the cook working the kitchen, to give everyone dinner during their break.

The lot of them were just having a laugh as Marlene told a story about her youngest grandkid when the door opened and Kendra walked in. She was in full uniform right down to the vest and sidearm, but Jake knew the moment she stepped across the threshold that something was wrong. He left the group and got as far as the end of the polished counter when she stepped up and sat on a stool.

“I’ll have a shot of…” She faltered for only a second. “A shot of rum.”

Jake’s jaw nearly dropped at the request. What the hell? Then he looked at her face. He recognized that look and his heart—what little bit he had—damn near broke. Something had happened. Something horrible. He knew that look. Without knowing the details, he knew it was a storm inside her that caused it. And he also knew from painful experience that getting drunk wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

And it would ruin someone like Kendra.

He swallowed and looked into her eyes. “White, amber, dark or spiced?”

Her gaze met his, startled, the pupils wide. She was in shock. He never wavered. Shit, she was in trouble. Big trouble.

“It doesn’t really matter.”

“Thought you might say that. Sorry, we’re all out.”

The blue in her eyes blazed as she realized he was refusing to serve her. “Then make it rye. Or vodka. Or tequila.”

“We’re all out of that too,” he said mildly. Their glasses always came out of the dishwasher sparkling clean, but Jake picked up a beer mug and began polishing it. Anything to keep his hands busy right now. Anything to keep from reaching for her the way he wanted to.

“Don’t mess with me, Jake. Not tonight.”

“The bar’s not open to you.”

“I’m telling you it is.” She stood up and raised her voice, a note of hysteria hovering just below the surface. “You don’t want any trouble, do you?”

He leaned over the bar. “Do yourself a favor and sit down and shut up. You’re in uniform, for God’s sake.”

She sat down, but she took off her cap and tucked it under her arm. She lifted her chin belligerently. “Symonds, are you going to serve me or not?”

“Not.” He said it loudly enough that she—and everyone within twenty feet—got the message. Then he leaned in again. “What the hell are you doing, Kendra?”

“I thought I was ordering a drink. Guess I’ll go somewhere else where they’re not so high and mighty.”

She got off the stool and got halfway to the door before he made it through the pass-through and caught her by the arm.

“Take your hands off me,” she said in a low, threatening voice.

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, tightening his grip on her arm and pulling her toward the door.

Once they were outside, she spun around and shook off his hands. “How dare you! Don’t you ever manhandle me again! I could arrest you for assaulting a police officer!”

Her eyes blazed but there was something about her lips, something fragile and tenuous. Whatever it was, it was bad.

“What happened?”

Her lips pursed. “Never mind.” She bit out the words. “I should have known it was a mistake coming back here.”

“Bullshit. And you’re not driving anywhere, not like this. Come with me.”

“Jake, I—”

“For once in your goddamned life, Kendra, will you just do as you’re told?” Frustration took over. She was so stubborn. It was part of what made her tough. He understood that. But right now it was working against her. He couldn’t help her if he couldn’t get her out of her own head.