OBSESSION (The Bening Files (Novella) Book 4) (9 page)

“What do you mean?”

Davis shot her a glare and heaved in a breath that didn’t seem to help. “He was at the end of the street.” As if unable to get her bearings, she looked around, then ran a hand over her head. Her fingers smeared a glob of red across her temple in the process. “I pulled out.” She staggered to the left, caught herself. “He gunned it.”

Amanda moved closer. “Davis?”

Those green eyes locked on her. And then, as if her bones had turned to Jell-O and given out, she crumpled.

CHAPTER SIX

EIGHTEEN YEARS AND fifteen homes. And that was between the time spent in state facilities.

The facts circled faster than a tornado. What was it like to have the stability two loving parents could offer torn from you? Or missing altogether?

Amanda closed the file. She handed it back to Robinson, who stood next to her outside of Mercy Hospital’s Emergency Department. The sun glared in her face and had her turning toward the entry.

Would Paige’s children fare the same? Would they wonder what their life might have been like? She shook her head. No. They’d find homes—a home.

Robinson followed suit, his arm brushing against her bandaged elbow in the process. A sting flashed upward.

He tucked the file beneath one arm. Then his hands curled around her injured arm, one above and directly below the unwarranted piece of gauze the paramedics had insisted she wear. His fingers were warm and gentle.

“Did they take a look at this?”

“It’s a scratch. Hit the pavement a little faster than I should have.”

His gaze met hers. His thumb stroked a soothing rhythm across her skin. Goosebumps raced upward.

“Gotta watch that blacktop.” The words were humorless. In fact, he’d said very little since arriving at the hospital. He hadn’t mentioned anything more about her harsh words inside his office. Nor was he pressing her to talk about Paige or her mom.

Which suited her fine, because she couldn’t trust herself not to fall apart. What was she going to do if her mom had actually committed these or any crimes? The woman had no access to the kind of knife used to end Nora’s life, yet she’d had it in her possession.

He dropped his hands. “Want to speculate how a woman who’s been in and out of hospitals her entire life made it through the academy?”

No. She wanted to trust her gut for once. And prove to him and everyone else that she wasn’t a danger-seeking magnet, but a woman interested in the truth. In saving lives. “It’s impressive, if you think about it.”

He shook his head as if she should know better. “Or someone pushed her through.”

“I get what you’re doing. If the positions were reversed, I might do the same.” She locked eyes with him. The sea-green of his irises captured her attention and lured her into a world where only the two of them existed. There she could breathe without fear of the next bout of trouble she couldn’t resist walking into.

Who would suffer if she didn’t?

He stepped closer, reached behind her and gripped the door handle, but didn’t enter. In her space like always. A fact that had never really bothered her. Not even in the days before they’d been in any sort of romantic relationship. It should have been her first clue as to what he might mean to her one day.

Anger and anxiety warred with respect and love. As usual.

You are one messed up chick.

“So, why do you look like someone just punched your kid?” His voice was soft, as if he hadn’t asked a question that might have a negative answer.

It had her wanting to forget their entire day. Move a little closer. Of its own volition, her gaze strayed to his lips. One taste and they would be right there. And when they came up for air, the day would be lying in wait.

Like a hungry wolf.

“Because, it’s not like you to grasp onto an idea like this. You’re more of an innocent-until-I-find-the-evidence-to-prove-you-guilty type of guy.”

He pressed his lips together. His free hand went to her bandaged elbow, a feather-light touch that said more than words. “Nothing different about this, right? Another day on the job?”

Except it wasn’t. That van had gunned in her direction. And based on what Davis had relayed, done the same to her. Why?

Sure, they had a description any sketch artist could whip up. Dark hair, dark eyes. Baseball cap that didn’t cover much of either. And plates that didn’t show up in any DMV database.

She sighed and spun toward the double doors, opened the one he wasn’t holding and walked through. “Wrong place. Wrong time.”

“Exactly.” His voice was right behind her as they maneuvered through the halls of the ER, toward where Davis resided, for the moment.

“Want me to point out all your little close calls, Robbie?” She stopped, then turned to face him. Didn’t know where the compulsion to defend a woman she hardly knew came from. Especially to the man who only had her best interests at heart.

But it felt a lot like defending herself. “This is what I do. What I’ve always done. What’s with the sudden worry over my safety?”

Something dark glittered across his face before he straightened. He tapped the folder against his free palm. “I get that she saved your life. I’m beyond grateful.” His voice took on a husky quality. “You’re grateful. Don’t let it skew your grip on reality, A.J.”

That wasn’t right. One month ago Davis had been in that so-called
right place
at the
right time
and delivered a well-deserved bullet on Amanda’s behalf. Those events weren’t hampering the truth.

She wouldn’t let it.

Robinson pulled her to the opposite side of the hall. “You’re great at what you do. Easily the best detective I’ve ever worked with.”

“And your buttering me up only works in certain situations.” Or ninety-nine percent of the time, because it was never fake, making her the luckiest girl alive or the stupidest.

“I’m asking you to look at the big picture. She may not be what she seems.”

“Based on what?”

He held up the file.

Foster homes. Fights. Medical issues. College. The academy. And then years working CMPD’s reception as if Davis were too scared to move on. Or make friends. With the random whispers she’d heard throughout the precinct, Amanda had always assumed the other woman’s quiet tendencies were the result of a breakup gone bad.

And her odd behavior at the Fifth Precinct this morning? With Sergeant Brink? The accident? The fact that she had prints from their Jane Doe and may or may not know more about her? The contents of a box she’d perhaps never intended to hand over? A cold shiver rushed through her veins. “Fine.”

He straightened. Confusion marred his handsome face as if he’d prepared for anything but acceptance. “Good.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to avoid her like the plague. You want the truth? You search for it, not run from it. The job is not risk-free.”

He curled his lower lip inward, then shook his head. “That’s not—”

The sound of his phone broke through the words, had him digging it out and glaring at the device. “It’s the school.”

“I called to let them know Paige wouldn’t be in today.”

He pressed the device to his ear. “Robinson.” His gaze flicked to her. “We understand the policy and your need to enforce it in fairness.” He paused. “There were extenuating circumstances which I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“I’m fine.” Davis’ shrill voice traveled in their direction, an edge of the annoyance she’d been sporting since day one of their acquaintance in full force. She tugged on the plastic bracelet around her wrist as she maneuvered around a nurse and a patient in a wheelchair. “I’ll be fine.”

A dark-haired man in scrubs and a lab coat followed close behind, chart in hand. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Davis continued moving toward Amanda and Robinson. “It’s not an issue.”

“You can’t be left unattended.”

“Yeah.” She made eye contact with Amanda. Then rubbed a hand over the white bandage across her forehead and refocused on her doctor. Another white strip graced her arm. “Got it. Don’t worry. I’ve released you from any lawsuits.”

“Vi, I’m serious.” The man grabbed her upper arm, interrupting her forward progress. “As your friend—”

“Blake, just focus on being my doctor.” She shrugged out of his hold. “Better yet, discharge me. Problem solved. Medical license intact. Otherwise, I’m walking.”

He shook his head as if this wasn’t the first time he’d gone rounds with the detective. “You have a concussion.”

“It’s not the first time. Won’t be the last.”

He paused. “Do you have anyone who can stay with you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Impatience covered his face. He tapped the folder against an open palm. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“She’s staying with us.” Robinson’s voice swirled around them. His gaze touched Amanda in a here’s-our-chance way.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHE NEEDED THE details.

And if Amanda asked for them point blank, she was likely to get nothing from Davis. The question wouldn’t matter; the younger detective was closed off tight. Everything in her rigid posture and quiet demeanor, as she sat at their kitchen table, shouted the fact. The way she pushed around the veggies and fried chicken, occasionally taking small bites.

Amanda couldn’t blame her for her silence. Her life wasn’t technically anyone’s business. And yet…

If people were lumping them together in some sort of conspiracy, the more Amanda knew the better. Robinson wasn’t wrong about that.

She flicked a glance to where he worked on his meal as if they didn’t have near-silent company gathered around them.

She’d long since given up any pretense of eating.

Beside her, Paige had never bothered to try hers. Instead, she sat with her arms crossed above her stomach. The bored look on her face gave the impression of the true teenage plight. From a glance, she could see why any innocent bystander might mistake her for a spoiled brat, which is how her teacher had described her, using eloquent words that wouldn’t fool a brainless man.

They viewed her attendance as a nuisance, a special circumstance that should never have been allowed. Exactly as Paige had indicated this morning. They didn’t know her. Didn’t seem to care to try.

They’d rethink that if Amanda went to the junior high and punched the school counselor in the face.

Kiss that adoption paperwork goodbye.

Paige’s bored attitude and general disinterest in life didn’t fool Amanda. She might have been an only child to parents who would’ve loved to have a dozen kids, but they hadn’t spoiled her to the point that she expected everything handed to her.

Amanda didn’t buy the annoyed-by-life smoke screen.

She’d watched her do homework every night for the past two weeks as if it meant more than passing eighth grade. Glimpsed intelligence that put her a cut above her class. A cut above Robinson’s niece, who was almost two years older and the only one at this table, besides Robinson, with a small appetite and the good sense to try for conversation.

Once upon a time that had been Amanda. She could start a discussion with a stranger. Find the best in anyone. Somewhere along the line that personality trait had disappeared, leaving her with the odd woman occupying her body.

An angry one she didn’t like.

“So this Blake character…” Amanda pushed her plate to the side and leaned forward on both elbows. Gazed at the woman at the opposite end of the table, who’d offered nothing verbally since the moment Robinson had insisted she stay with them.

And there hadn’t been a whole lot of alone time for her to ask what he’d been thinking. Or if he had any kind of inkling on how this might pan out. Likely, he would have come up with some smart-mouthed comment that would have left her annoyed and slightly amused.

Mostly annoyed.

Davis took her time chewing. “What about him?”

A dark bruise formed around the cut above her temple.

“He seemed interested.”

A bark of sarcastic laughter flew from her partner’s mouth. “No.”

“You sure?”

Her fork hit the table with a loud clank. “Do I need to lay out every relationship I have, past, present and future? He’s not interested. Neither am I.”

“And what about Killian Brink? He seemed like he was shocked to see you.”

A twitch started below Davis’ left eye. She remained silent.

“Any chance Mr. Right Now is the same guy a few people saw harassing you outside the lab this morning?”

Davis’ brows slammed together. “What are you talking about?”

Huh. Had Mark misread the situation? “Maybe this guy and Dr. Blake are one and the same?”

Was it possible he’d managed to run her down and get back to his job with relative ease? No. She would have said something immediately. Amanda eyed the bruise and the bandage around Davis’ forearm.