Better When He's Brave

I closed the door quietly behind me and pulled my phone out so I could text Reeve that I was headed back to the loft after all. She didn’t text me back, so I assumed she was already asleep since it was the middle of the night. I was pulling out of the hospital parking lot when my phone starting ringing. I thought it was Reeve calling me back to let me know she was awake and ready to play some after-dark games once I got home. My blood froze when the unnaturally calm voice of one of my fellow detectives came across the line.

“Detective King, we just got called out to those high-rise condos on the docks. Shots fired and one reported fatality. One of the witnesses on the scene demanded that we call you. Said you’ve been staying there.”

I had to concentrate on breathing after my lungs seized and my heart dropped into my shoes. “The fatality, is it a male or a female?”

I heard the typical background noise that went along with a crime scene and practically put the gas pedal through the floorboard of the GTO as I raced across town.

“Male suffering multiple gunshot wounds to the head and chest. Looks like a break-in and attempted sexual assault. The victim said she shot him in self-defense. She told the female officer on the scene that she’s your girlfriend and asked us to call you right away.” The other cop coughed. “Pretty girl. Looks like she took a nasty beating before she pulled the trigger. She won’t go with the paramedics until you get here.”

A nasty beating? What exactly did that mean? My mind was racing with every worst-case scenario I could think of. I couldn’t believe Reeve had shot someone. Where had she even gotten a gun from and how had someone gotten past all the high-tech and extreme security measures Race had in place at the condo? None of it made any sense to me, but all that mattered right at the moment was that Reeve was okay and that whoever had tried to hurt her was the one not breathing anymore.

When I pulled up in front of the condo, it looked like a scene out of a bad TV cop show. Flashing sirens, worn-down docks, bored bystanders waiting to see the bodies rolled out to the coroner’s van, patrol cops and tired-eyed detectives keeping the scene secure, and sure enough, a lovely victim dressed in practically nothing sitting in the back of an ambulance while a paramedic fussed around her. Reeve was wrapped up in a rough-looking blanket. Her dark hair was snarled and sticking up all over her head like someone had been using it to scrub floors or something. She was talking to another cop and the spinning red and blue lights cast harsh shadows on her pale face. She looked calm. She looked composed. She looked like a miracle and it wasn’t until she caught sight of me and turned to look in my direction that I saw the damage the other detective had described.

She had white Steri-Strips over one of her dark eyebrows. She already had a black eye starting to form around one of those dark blue orbs. Her chin was split open and sporting spidery black stiches, and as she got up and started to move toward me I could see the scratches and bruises that decorated her soft skin. An angry and bright red slash decorated her throat, and it made me clench my fists. All she had on was a tank top that was being held up by one strap as the other one dangled torn and useless off her shoulder. She also had on those too-short shorts she liked to sleep in and I could see that her knees were torn open and raw like she had been dragged across the floor.

I let out a soft little “oomph” as she hit my chest and tucked her head under my chin. She started crying as soon as my arms closed around her. She cried and cried. Her body shook so hard I thought she was going to fall apart. I stroked my hand over her messy hair and muttered soothing words to her as the other detective meandered over to where we were standing. He looked at me and then at Reeve and lifted his eyebrow.

“I still have a few more questions to ask.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as Reeve shook even harder against me. I wasn’t used to being on the opposite end of this conversation and I couldn’t say I cared for it at all.

“Give us a minute.”

“All right, but I’d like to get back to bed before the sun comes up, so a minute is all you get.”

I wanted to punch the guy in the face but Reeve needed my attention more, so I bent my head and put my lips to her ear.

“Roark?” I had to know if the mouse had finally turned the table on the cat. She shook her head in the negative and her wet cheek touched my lips, so I pressed light kisses on it.

“Who?”

“Zero. I’d just gotten out of the shower. I was getting ready for bed and he was just there all of a sudden. I recognized him from when he showed up at the safe house looking for Conner. He had a knife.”

She pulled back and looked at me with wide, fear-filled eyes. “He was going to kill me.”

I shushed her softly and pressed my mouth to hers. “But he didn’t. Where did the gun come from?”

She looked away and started shaking again in earnest. It made me scowl and squeeze her a little harder on her arms where I was holding her. “Reeve . . . the gun?”

“That’s my question too, Ms. Black. That’s an unregistered firearm with no traceable serial number. Where did it come from?”

She looked at me then quickly looked away. She pulled away from me and wrapped her arms around herself. She wouldn’t pull her gaze up from the ground as she whispered, “He brought it in with him.” It was a lie. I knew it right away and it made my skin feel suddenly too tight.

I opened my mouth to call her out on it but then looked at the other detective. He was watching her and watching me and I knew that saying anything would lead to more questions that couldn’t be answered.