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Shit. He put the fork down and dumped the whole plate into the trash. “Well, in that case, I’ll skip it today.”
She frowned. “It’s fine if you want it. It’s only an issue if I eat it myself.”
He shook his head, pulled her out into a quiet hallway on the far side of the meeting room. He looked around, then backed her against the wall. He braced one hand beside her head and leaned close to her ear, crowding her personal space. “I don’t want to take any chances with your safety, Rebeccah. Have you figured it out yet? Do you know why I’ve always asked for you to be my ride-along?”
She tilted her head, blinked up at him, and he was sunk.
“Tell me if I’m off base here. If I am, I’ll back off right now and you can finish out your shift here at the station. But if I’m right, I need to know that. It’s been a long five years, Bec, wanting a woman I couldn’t have.”
“Jeremy, I—”
“Oh, excuse me.” It was a female voice, slightly breathless.
He swore under his breath and stepped back, nearly bumping into Matt Christianson and a young, pretty blonde he assumed was Becca’s friend Hannah. “No problem. We were just talking.” Fuck, could he sound any more like he was trying to cover up something he shouldn’t be doing? And the worst part was that it wasn’t a lie. All they’d been doing was talking.
Christianson snorted and raised his brow. “Yeah, know how that goes. Hannah and I were looking for a quiet place to, er...talk, too.”
Both Becca and Hannah started laughing, giggling really, breaking the awkward silence. He gave up and joined in. “Right. We all need to eat and get back on the road, anyway. Watch your back.” He slapped palms with Christianson, nodded politely to Hannah and escorted Becca back inside. Right before they stepped into the meeting room, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “We’ll finish our talk later, when we’re alone.”
* * *
Jeremy hadn’t been wrong. The second half of his shift was bat-shit crazy, and the first half hadn’t been a picnic. Maybe it was the unusually warm weather, but they’d been called to an inordinate amount of drunken brawls. And, an hour away from the end of his work day, they were here for a domestic disturbance in a house at the end of one seriously spooky lane.
Jeremy had ordered her, in no uncertain terms, not to leave the car. And also to be prepared to call for assistance if he needed it. She knew why, because these kinds of calls were the most volatile, but it made her stomach hurt. She could hear the screaming from here, and she sat in the car, hand hovering over the radio.
It was a long five minutes before another cruiser pulled in behind Jeremy’s. Thank God, because he’d been in there alone a long time by himself. It was an officer she’d seen in action last year, a woman who looked too petite to be able to handle anyone older than a middle school student, but she’d seen Officer Preston drop a mountain of a guy.
Becca gasped as the officer strode up the walk to the house and nearly got hit in the head, first with a flying toaster and then with a lamp. She sidestepped them both and spoke into her radio.
Becca could hear it in the car. “Request immediate backup at my current location. Subject is holding a baseball bat and threatening his wife. Kohler’s inside with them, but it looks like things are breaking down. No sirens.”
Her heart clenched. Please let him be safe. Please let him be safe. She repeated the mantra over again in her head as two other cars slid to a stop, lights flashing but sirens silent. She watched the other officers try to engage, heard the violent shouting coming from inside.
It was the longest twenty minutes of her life, but eventually Jeremy stalked out escorting a disheveled-looking man in handcuffs. The guy was still swearing and struggling, and Jeremy had a small scrape on his cheek.
Becca had seen Jeremy in action before and was always amazed at the relative calm he exuded. Oh, his jaw was tight and she could see the tension in his muscles, but he was professional and purposeful.
He opened the rear door of his cruiser and guided his prisoner in, making sure the guy didn’t hit his head. Then he came around her side of the car and drew her out, leading her away from the car. “I don’t want you sitting in there alone with him while I deal with the rest of this. He’s a nasty piece of work.”
She reached up and lightly touched his cheekbone. “What happened?”
He made a disgusted noise. “I forgot to duck and I got an elbow in the face. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, but it’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
She winced when the man in the car started screaming again. She turned her head, shocked to see a woman with a black eye being led out in handcuffs, too. “I don’t understand.”
Jeremy winced. “Yeah, that. She got violent with Preston when I cuffed her husband. I’m with you. I don’t understand it, I never have, but some women feel the need to protect their abuser.”
“I’d let him rot,” she muttered under her breath. “Serve him right.”
He grinned then, a quick slash of one that was devastating in its surprise appearance and blatant approval. “I do believe you would, Ms. Rickman. I do believe you would.” One of the other officers called his name. “C’mon, let’s get this finished.”
She walked over with him, happy to be away from the screaming man. She could still hear him, but it was less threatening with Jeremy by her side. Sam hadn’t been like that, but she wondered if that’s why Jeremy had pulled her out of the car. No, near the end of their marriage, when things were going really bad, Sam had been sneakier. He couched his disapproval in ways that made it sound like he was instructing her in the proper ways to be a good Jewish woman.
She was lost in her own thoughts when she realized Jeremy was
talking to her. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I have to take him to central booking. You can ride back with Preston and call it a day, or you can come with me.”
