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Jeremy had a sick feeling in his gut, and he didn’t like what it was telling him. Even though he was reeling from the news she was divorced, had in fact been divorced for half a damn year, he’d tossed a joking comment to Becca. She’d turned as white as a corpse, and still as one, too. He’d seen that reaction before, in the line of duty.
In women who’d been abused.
Instant denial made him snarl low in his throat and she shrank back, solidifying his theory even further. “Oh, God. What the hell did he do to you?”
The moment the words came out, he wanted to call them back. All those years of training and he just blurted it out like that? Nice work, asshole. Her eyes widened, but he couldn’t back down now. Wouldn’t back down now. Needed to know, personally not professionally. “Your ex. What. Did. He. Do?”
The sound she made was half sob, half hysterical laugh. “He did me a favor. He gave me the reason I needed to leave him.”
He’d wanted her since the first day she’d climbed into his cruiser and today was no different. He’d seen her a grand total of ten times, for no more than eight hours each. No, make that eleven times. He’d run into her and her husband once when he was providing security at a charity event. She’d been dressed to the nines in a modest yet sexy-as-sin dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. He remembered thinking then that her husband, whose eyes had shifted around the room looking at every woman but the one with him, didn’t deserve her. Jeremy, on the other hand, had seen no one but her. He forced his mind back to now and tried to keep his voice even. “Did he hurt you, Becca?”
She touched her cheek and his blood ran cold. “O-only once. I left him that night.”
Fucking hell. “Why didn’t you call me?”
She turned shocked eyes on him. “What?”
“You should have called me or someone else in the department. Rebeccah, we’ve all known you for five years. Any one of us would’ve helped you.”
Her spine snapped straight, her gaze serious and steady. “I didn’t need to. I handled it myself.”
He leveled a look at her, which she met head on. Jesus, she was something else, and his respect for her grew. He nodded slowly. “I guess you did, but I wish you’d called.”
She blew out a sigh. “Can we shelve this? Because really, I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fair enough. But, Bec? We
’re gonna have to talk about it sometime. Sometime soon.”
She muttered something under her breath, something in a foreign language, and then relented, crossing her arms and sitting back against the seat. “Fine. But not today.”
Her stubborn attitude ticked him off and turned him on, but before he could decide which was stronger, his radio chirped again. Christ, it was going to be one of those Christmases where he went non-stop all fucking day. He slid another glance her way and answered the call.
* * *
Four hours into their ride-along, he drove them back to the station. This year, like every year, there was food for them since all the fast food places and most restaurants were closed. The shift on duty was taking turns with lunch breaks, so there were only a few other people in the meeting room where the food was. They followed the tempting smells the whole way down the hall. He grabbed a plate and handed one to Becca.
She took it with a faint smile. “Thanks. I’ll bet you’re hungry. It’s been really busy for Christmas Day.”
He grunted. “Too busy. Luckily it’s all been easy stuff so far. Later, we’re going to wind up with the drunks and the domestic cases.” He slid a glance her way. “You up for that?”
She raised a brow. “Have I ever not been?”
He almost laughed, but then he remembered and his stomach clenched. “No, but you’ve also never been—”
She cut him off with a dramatic slice of her hand through the air. “I’ve never backed out and I’m not going to now.”
God, he loved her feisty attitude. His anger—not at her, but at her slime of an ex—was still on a slow burn, but if she wanted to move forward, what right did he have to stop her? “Attagirl.”
“Damned straight.”
He grinned and put some shrimp on his plate, offering her some.
“No, thanks. I don’t eat shellfish.”
“Right, I forgot. The kosher thing.” He speared one with a fork and went to put it in his mouth. “Oh, what you’re missing.”
“Yeah, blowing up like a balloon. I don’t follow kosher dietary rules. What I am is allergic to most shellfish.”
