AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Might be considered bribery,” she said.
“I’ll risk it. Do you have your cuffs on you?”
Tilting her head back and staring up through her eyelashes at Dean, Ophelia gulped down the carbonated sweetness and let her mind float free.
In the blistering midday, she was cooler than she’d been inside the building, even with the big exhaust fans sucking out the smell of cordite and powder. The rivulet of sweat down her back had dried the minute she stepped outside, Dean close on her heels, a lone darkness in her peripheral vision.
A guardian angel. The thought popped out of nowhere. Ophelia set the can next to her and rubbed her hands on her knees. She winced at the stinging pain.
Faster than she could yank her hands free, Dean turned her palms over. A blister bubbled white against the raw redness.
“Ouch, O.”
Collecting the shreds of her dignity, Ophelia loosely fisted her palm and shrugged. “Part of the job.”
“Sure is.” He still held her hands, his fingers coarse against hers and oddly gentle, his thumbs curled over hers. “Have you been like this since you got shot?”
“Didn’t you have a story to tell me? I drank like a good girl.” Hating him for seeing her weakness, but still caught in the spell of their fragile harmony, she felt the peace in the linking of their hands, the comfort of connection with another human, one she didn’t have to pretend with.
“You did at that.” He hesitated, then sat down next to her, his dark hair mussed. It seemed as if it was growing out from the tidy way he used to keep it. Maybe Dean was having as hard a time transitioning to being a civilian as she was from this shooting.
Resting their joined hands carefully on his bent knee, he nudged her with his shoulder. He wore a wrinkle-free dark T-shirt. It was tucked in. Most likely left over from his SEAL days. Dean had always been squared away. Ophelia’s gaze strayed toward that threadbare placket between empty belt loops.
“The story is I stopped a couple of thugs from beating up a legitimate business owner.” He told her about Gage Moore and the fight with the a-holes who had been menacing Avedis Belsky, keeping it vague. The information about Harkness and the black ops DoD site was highly classified, and on a need-to-know basis. Besides, he wasn’t sure he would even take the job.
“You do know you don’t have to be a hero all the time. We have police to handle that kind of thing, but it doesn’t surprise me that you did that.” She smiled at him wryly. “You might think about becoming a cop.”
“I’ll take it under consideration,” he said, wondering how many other job offers he would get today.
She nodded, the warmth in her eyes telling him that she liked that he stepped in.
Minutes earlier, his solid presence at her back had stilled the shudders ripping her apart. His hand cupping hers was unexpectedly comforting, and even as she regretted her weakness, she yielded and let his strength seep into her.
Ever since he stepped back into her life, she was running on nerves.
Shielded by his tall form, she was safe from the casually inquisitive glances from the shooting range customers. A guardian angel or the devil himself, who Dean was didn’t matter as long as no one knew how she was reacting to picking up a gun again.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Your sweet neighbor. You know she likes me and trusts me.”
“That’s not surprising. You saved her from injury and theft.” Was that a hint that she should trust him, too. She couldn’t seem to shake the past. Something they really needed to get out in the open. It would take the heat off her dismal showing during her shooting practice.
“What do you have in that bag?”
“Simple ham and cheese sandwiches and chips.”
“How about we go to the nearest park?”
He nodded. She followed him in her car and turned when he did. He parked under the shade of a tree, and she parked next to him. There was a green expanse with picnic tables and grills. Off in the distance, parents and their little children played together in a small park.
They got out and walked to one of the picnic tables beneath a big tree. It was still hot, but it felt good to have the burning sun blocked by the cooling verdant boughs.
He opened the bag and doled out the food. “What are we doing here, Dean?” she asked, her voice pitched low. Inside she was churning, but she was determined to get all this out into the open.
It could only help. If he were here to nurse her through this, or because he wanted information, she would feel very disappointed. She wanted him to have the same second chance feelings, the same do-we-want-to-try-this-thing again feelings. But it could also be because he felt guilty. Could it be residual anger from the way they parted. Did he want to prove something to her or himself. Then, again, this could all be about closure and putting the past to rest. All she wanted was to know, then she could deal with it.
“We’re eating lunch,” he said, his face puzzled for a moment. At least until she leaned forward and touched his hand.
