Blissful Surrender (Bliss #3)(3)
Author: B.J. Harvey

I take a deep breath and swallow down the lump in my throat. “Ryan, the paramedics are here to look after you now.” I hold my hands up as he is pulled off me, then push off the floor and stand up, stepping out of the bar area to give them space to check him over. I look down at my previously clean blue shirt and see a large, crimson blood stain.

Dammit all to Hell. I’ve still got half a shift left.

Walking aimlessly through the room, I shake my head in disbelief. Ryan f**king Miller. The younger brother of the one man I’d ever let close enough to shatter me. At this moment, I hate and love his brother all over again.

Sean Miller.

The biggest sacrifice of my life.

The one I let go.

Fuck! I need to get out of here before Sean shows up and my day goes to complete shit.

Then it hits me. With Ryan gone, there will be no one here, and if it was a robbery, there is nothing to stop the dickhead returning. Without thinking of the consequences for myself, I spin on my heels and head back toward Ryan. This is totally above and beyond the call of duty and I know it.

“Ry, is there anyone else here today? Anyone else working who can close up for you?”

“Nah. Sean’s not due in for another hour because of some deposition he’s involved with, and Amy, our other bar manager, is due around the same time.”

Fuck. Shit. Christ Almighty.

I look to the ceiling, begging whichever higher being watching over me to take me then and there.

“Where are your keys, Ryan?”

“Back pocket. Jeans,” he rasps out, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask now covering his mouth. Rico looks up at me and raises his eyebrow. I nod and watch as he reaches in to Ryan’s pocket, pulling out a foot long chain with a stack of keys attached. He makes sure he unclips the chain from Ryan’s jeans before throwing them my way.

Rico and I tried to date a few years ago, and although it didn’t work out, we’ve been close friends ever since. He’s Brazilian and all kinds of hot. Chocolate brown hair, deep green eyes, and a body that is a masterpiece of sculpted lines and hard muscle. One look at him and you can tell how much time and effort he puts into it. Helen is his partner and fiancée. She’s my complete opposite with black hair cut into a jagged, almost razor edge style that not a lot of women could pull off, but she rocks it, big brown eyes that are beautiful and captivating, and a unique style that she dons proudly—in and out of uniform.

They may be partners but Rico and Helen are also a couple. When they tried the dating thing a year ago—after I insisted— they hit it off like a space rocket on launch day. Sparks flew, clothes ripped off, and they’re getting married next year. I couldn’t be happier for them.

As I turn toward the club’s front doors and reach up to grab my radio, Zander walks in.

“Roberts, can you—”

“Tape is up and two rookies are still outside guarding the door. I scoped out the neighbors on either side. They heard shouting, and one called 911 but didn’t see anyone leave. Detectives are on the way, but I doubt we’ll find whoever did this. I came through the back door and there’s a small alleyway behind this block. I’d say the perp escaped that way. Once that guy is patched up they’ll be able to interview him and get access to the security tapes. Get a better look.”

I look up at my partner and narrow my eyes. “You did all of that since you went outside?”

He grins at me; his ‘I’m shit hot and I know it’ look that he’s famous for around the precinct. The former stripper in him shines through as he turns on the charm. “Of course, partner. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

“Piss off, Roberts. Your bullshit charm won’t work on me.”

“It’s worked before,” he retorts with a cheeky grin.

“Got your sights set on making Detective, Zan?” I reply back, smirking at him. My partner has come a long way in a few months. It’s great to see him taking initiative.

“One day.”

“It’s good to have a goal in life beyond being really really good looking” I retort with a smirk. “Anyway, let’s lock up and leave the keys with the officers out front until the other owner arrives,” I state, my cop persona snapping back into place.

“Return of the Ice Queen,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Say what now?”

He rubs the back of his neck as Rico and Helen wheel Ryan’s stretcher past us. Helen mouths ‘Are you okay?’ as they head toward the door, and I nod. It’s a white lie I know she’ll call me out on later, but at least it will be when I’m at home with a gin and tonic in my hand and not in the fetish club that my ex-boyfriend owns.

“Zander,” I say quietly once the paramedics and Ryan are gone. “I’m called the Ice Queen?”

His eyes soften. “Sam, it’s just a stupid name. Just ignore it.”

I think on it for a moment before I shock the shit out of him by replying with a shit eating grin on my face. “I’m disappointed. I thought for sure I’d be known as a ball buster. I’ll have to try harder.”

He cracks up laughing before giving me a shoulder bump. We walk out the front doors, pulling them closed before securing the club. I throw the keys at Officer Keats who is standing by our patrol car. “Keats, Detectives will be here soon. When Sean Miller or a bar manager named Amy arrive, please tell them what has happened and give Mr. Miller those keys. I’ll get the detectives to keep trying to get through to him as well. Any problems, call it in.”

When Zander and I are back in the squad car and he’s called through our clear status over the radio, he turns in the passenger seat and stares at me, studying me quietly. The silence stretches between us, and suddenly I’m feeling awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve never liked people getting involved in my personal business. I’m a very private person and he knows it. We may be partners, but I won’t be talking about Sean Miller and our history with Zander. Not now when it’s suddenly being refreshed in my mind, and not ever.

“Roberts, cut the shit. Let’s go,” I say, crossing my arms and leveling an equally unimpressed stare right back at him.

“You know him don’t you?” I look up at him and there’s concern written all over his face.

“Yes. He’s an old … friend’s brother. I’m okay, Zander. It’s not the brother that’s the problem,” I confess, knowing I’ve said too much, but unable to stop myself.