Chapter 7 #2
He cleared his throat. “Well, congratulations, Rookie. I’ll be sorry to pull you from the field. You’re a good cop. Slade has nothing but good things to report about you.”
He what?
Krista nearly swallowed her tongue. And she must have made a noise or a face of disbelief, because Wicks cocked his head. “You don’t believe me?”
Blinking half a dozen times, she shook her head to clear out the bullshit. “I … it’s just, well, I was also coming in here to file a formal complaint about Constable Slade.”
The staff sergeant’s jaw visibly tightened. “Oh, really?”
Her head bobbed. “Yes. Since early on, Constable Slade has been inappropriate with me and making sexual advances. I’ve asked him to stop, but he doesn’t seem to take no for an answer.
Just earlier he cornered me and ripped open my shirt and touched me and kissed me.
” The back of her eyes burned with the desire not to cry.
Her throat wasn’t much better off as it slowly threatened to stop her speech altogether with each word she got out.
But Wicks didn’t seem fazed. His jaw just tightened a little more, and his chestnut eyes darkened. “Do you have any witnesses?” he asked.
She couldn’t be certain, but it almost seemed as though there might be trepidation in his voice. And what the hell did witnesses have to do with it? They took any and all sexual harassment cases seriously, whether the victim had a witness or not. Why was she any different?
She shook her head. “N-no, sir. There was no one in the lunch room just now, and all the other times we were out on patrol. I didn’t think I required a witness in order for my claim to be taken seriously.”
Fuck, now his brown eyes looked more like Myles’s black ones. Dark and soulless. “I’ll handle it,” he clipped. “Besides, you’re going on light duty now, rookie. You won’t have to work with Constable Slade anymore. This can all be water under the bridge.”
Water under the bridge?
Her mouth hung open for maybe a moment too long before she finally had to snap it shut. Was this really happening? Was he really dismissing her complaints?
Blinking a few times and resisting the urge to pinch herself, she finally found her voice. “Are you not going to deal with this, sir? I mean, I can’t be the only female officer who has had issues with Constable Slade.”
The staff sergeant let out a weighted, almost irritated sigh. “You’re moving on to light duty. I don’t see the issue.”
Before she knew what she was doing, Krista had pushed back her chair and was standing over her superior’s desk, hands on her hips, body hinged forward, glowering down at him.
“That’s irrelevant, sir. I’m making a formal complaint about Constable Slade and his inappropriate work behavior.
Now if you’re unwilling to handle this, then I have no problem going to HR.
But I thought I was to come to you first? ”
Well, that seemed to have knocked the cotton from his ears.
Only it also seemed to have set that cotton aflame.
Red flooded the older man’s cheeks, and his face hardened.
Slowly, purposefully so, he rose up out his chair.
He was a tall man. Maybe not as tall as Brock but damn close, and even with a big wooden desk between them, he towered over her.
She was forced to lift her head and tilt her neck to look him in the eye.
“I hope that wasn’t a threat … rookie?”
She swallowed, suddenly feeling the size of a gnat and just as easily squishable. “No, sir. Not a threat.”
“Good. I didn’t think so.” His face softened a touch, though you could probably still shatter crystal on it.
“I’ll deal with Slade. No need to involve HR just yet.
It’d take ages for anything to happen. I’ll file your paperwork for light duty right now, and you can head on upstairs and see Mallory.
She’ll get you sorted out.” Then, before she could say anything, even mutter a thank you, he spun around and showed her his back.
“Dismissed.” And that was the end of that, apparently.
Confused, frazzled, and worried about what had just happened with the staff sergeant, the incident with Slade in the break room and what would happen now that the word was out about her pregnancy, Krista made her way toward the offices.
“Hey!” It was Slade.
Oh, of all things holy.
“Where the fuck are you going? We have patrol.” Careful not to lay a hand on her where anyone walking by might notice, he approached Krista in the narrow corridor between Wicks’ office and the stairwell heading upstairs to the other offices.
He stopped roughly six feet in front of her, clearly still pissed about their altercation earlier.
Well, good. So was she. And hopefully the prick would be getting what was coming to him soon enough.
“I’m on light duty now. You’re officially no longer my coach.”
His eyes bugged out, but that didn’t make them any less spooky looking. “You knocked up?”
She didn’t answer him.
“Are you?”
“It’s none of your business. Medically I need to go on light duty.” With that she left him standing in the hallway and headed upstairs to find Mallory.
He didn’t have to hear her to know she was home.
He could feel her presence. And not in some paranormal spirit type way.
No. That shit was dumb. If ghosts existed, he was sure his dad would be haunting him every waking moment.
No, the house became a home when Krista stepped inside.
He could feel her warmth. Feel the change in the atmosphere.
Smell that sweet and unique smell of hers, even when masked by a day’s worth of work out on the streets.
Busy standing over the stove and pushing meat and veggies around in a big wok for dinner, he waited for her to come up the stairs.
Only she didn’t. Ordinarily, it took roughly twenty-seven seconds for her to shut the door, hang up her coat, take off her boots and ascend the stairs.
And based on what the clock on the microwave said, she’d been home for nearly three minutes. What was up?
He glanced toward the staircase. A curly red ponytail was all that he saw. She was sitting on the last few steps, staring straight ahead at the front door. Turning off the element on the stove and ignoring his grumbling stomach, he headed down the stairs.
“Forget how to walk?”
She didn’t say anything.
“You’re not that far along yet that you need me to carry you, are you?”
Not even a shoulder shrug.
She wasn’t a big person, but he certainly was, and trying to push past her small frame on the steps without stepping on her or putting his elbow into the drywall proved to be a challenge. But he made it and then crouched down in front of her in the small entryway.
He wasn’t used to dealing with the rickety wooden roller coaster that was female emotions.
Toss in the pregnancy hormones, and he was so far out of his comfort zone, they could have been on different continents.
That roller coaster was in the dark, missing a wheel or two and in an abandoned theme park.
But he was trying to show her he was in this baby rearing thing.
Pregnancy and all. One hundred percent. Shoving down his instinct to say “women” and shake his head, he took a deep breath and tried to meet her eyes. “What’s up?”
Slowly, she let her gaze leave the front door and fixed those brilliant blue eyes on him. “I told the staff sergeant about the baby. I’m officially on light duty.”
Thank fuck.
One less thing for him to worry about. He was starting to think he was getting an ulcer from the stress of her being out in the field every day.
“Good.”
She didn’t seem nearly as happy as he was. Understandable. She was a tough cookie, and had the roles been reversed, he wouldn’t have been happy about having to give up a job he loved. But she needed to start thinking about more than just herself.
Reaching out, he tucked a wild, wavy strand of her hair behind her ear. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed, and her eyes darted down for just half a second to her wrist before flying back up to his face. But his own gaze wasn’t nearly as quick. Where the fuck did that bruise come from?
He reached for her arm, but she tugged it away. He reached again, and this time, she let him take it. “Where’d this come from?”
Her jaw clenched.
“Krista … ”
Letting out a deep, rattled breath, she started, “Slade. He cornered me in the staff room this morning. Got physical. I managed to fight him off, though.”
Suddenly, there was a ringing in his ears.
Where the fuck was that coming from? Did she hear it, too? Heat flooded his face and chest, and red seemed to cloud his vision. A stroke?
No.
Fury.
He wanted to go find this Slade motherfucker and kill him.
Or at the very least break every bone in his body so he couldn’t lay a hand on any woman, on his woman again.
She’d mentioned Slade in passing a few times.
Called him a “tool” and a “pain in the ass,” but she’d never said anything about him being a lecherous bastard, too.
The fucker would pay for touching her. He’d pay dearly.
“Ow.” Krista went to pull away, snapping him out of sudden blood lust. He glanced down at his hand on her wrist, his own fingerprints now where her bruise was.
Regret hit him square in the solar plexus, and he avoided her stare as he let her go, muttering, “Sorry.”
“S’okay.” She rubbed at the spot he’d been squeezing.
He reached for her wrist again, this time gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over her bruises, hating that he’d left his own marks. Though his wouldn’t turn into bruises. Her pulse beat strong and steady beneath his fingertips. “You’re okay?”
She snorted a small laugh. “Yeah, I think I’ll live.”
He lifted his head and waited for her to meet his gaze. “I mean about Slade.”