Chapter 8
KANE
Worry and fear and rage keep crashing into me in alternating waves.
Every muscle in my body is tense as I fight the urge to drive faster. I’m already twenty miles over the speed limit and it’s still not enough. My jaw is clenched so tightly slivers of pain radiate through it. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
Rage pulses hot and furious; a throbbing echo in my head.
Who the fuck did this to her?
Is Jess okay?
Is she safe? Hurt? Scared?—
Shit. Of course she’s scared. I could hear it in her voice the second she answered the phone.
I’m scared.
There are too many what-ifs not to be.
What if—despite the evidence to the contrary—someone is in Jess’s house?
What if locking herself in the bathroom isn’t good enough?
What if she’s hurt and just didn’t tell me? Or she’s in shock and doesn’t know how badly she’s injured, and I arrive to find?—
Shit.
Maybe I should have told her to make a run for her car instead.
But in the moment, I just wanted her to get to safety as quickly as possible.
I didn’t want her going further into the living room, wasting precious moments searching for her car keys, then leaving herself vulnerable as she raced to the garage.
Maybe I should have told her to run to a neighbor's house for help. But the thought of her panicked, standing alone in the dark while she waited for someone to answer…
Instinct told me to have her hide. Stay put and wait for me. But now… I’m second guessing myself. I’m scared I fucked up and put Jess in even more danger.
“It’s going to be okay,” Oliver says in a low tone. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him watching me with visible concern. “We’re almost there.”
“Kane?” Jess’s wobbly voice carries through the car speakers. “Are you almost here? I can hear sirens.”
“Not yet.” My molars nearly shatter from the effort of keeping my voice calm. “We’re just about three minutes out. The sirens are from one of the other cars. Noah and Kyle are on patrol, so they were probably closer to your house when they got the call.”
“Are you with Oliver?” Jess asks. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he wants to be home with Shea. It’s just some broken”—her voice cracks—“glass. No big”—another crack—“deal.”
She couldn’t sound less convincing if she tried.
I’m about to answer when Oliver jumps in. “Jess, don’t even worry about it. I want to come. Okay?” He glances at me and smirks. “And someone’s got to keep your guy from losing his shit.”
On Jess’s end of the call, sirens approach, muffled but still easy to recognize.
“He’s losing his shit?” She pauses. “Why?”
“Because I’m worried about you,” I answer. “And I want to get there and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she whispers. “I’m still in the bathroom. No one?—”
A loud banging sound carries across the line. Jess lets out a tiny yip of fear.
My foot twitches on the gas.
Oliver claps his hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’s just Noah and Kyle. You know it is.”
Incorrect. I think it is. But I don’t know .
If only I’d waited to leave the station a few minutes longer, I’d be in the patrol car and could hear them communicating on the radio.
I’d know for sure that my fellow officers are at Jess’s house and not someone there to hurt her.
But I was already halfway to my car when the call came in, and it would have cost me minutes I didn’t want to waste to go back for the patrol car instead.
Thankfully, Noah called me as soon as the station was notified of Jess’s alarm going off, so I knew right away. Because by now, everyone knows Jess and I are dating. And I want them to know.
I want them to know that any rudeness to Jess is unacceptable, and if I hear about it, they’ll have to answer to me.
I want them to know that ignoring Jess isn’t an option anymore.
And that unlike before, I have Jess’s back.
That I won’t allow the bullshit way people like Daria and Simone treated her to continue.
Overprotective? Possibly.
Probably.
But, shit. Poor Jess hasn’t had anyone on her side until now. No one to say they believe in her. No one to reassure her that she is a good person, despite what some assholes in town may think.
She’s not alone anymore. She has me. And Oliver. And all my friends.
If it’s up to me, she won’t be alone again.
But that’s something for another day. Another time when Jess isn’t hiding in her bathroom after an attack on her house. When she’s not scared and crying. When I don’t feel moments from punching something.
Over the speakers, another series of loud knocks echoes. Then a faint, “Miss Day! This is the police! We’re coming in!”
The belt wrapped around my chest loosens a notch. Not an intruder. Not someone back to hurt Jess. But two of my coworkers, who, although they’re both relative rookies, will do their best to keep my girlfriend safe.
Wait.
My girlfriend?
“I’m going to let them in,” Jess says. “So they don’t break down the door.”
“No!” I almost yell it. In a more controlled tone, I explain, “Stay in the bathroom. Let them clear the house. Okay? Just in case… ”
“Oh.” Her voice is so tiny. “Okay.”
“We’re only three blocks away,” I assure her. “I’ll be there before you know it.”
A splintering crash blasts across the line. “Kane?”
“They’re just getting the door open,” Oliver answers. “Okay, Jess? It’s fine. Then they’ll clear the rooms, and we already told them where you are. So they’ll come get you once it’s safe.”
“What if they don’t believe me?” she asks. “What if they think… I did it? That I threw rocks?—”
“They won’t,” I reply quickly. “I promise, sweetheart.”
The turnoff for Jess’s street comes up on the right, and I make a screeching turn onto it. “I’m on your street now. I can see the flashing lights up ahead. Just hang tight, okay?”
Though some of my fear has subsided, it’s still not enough.
I’m still envisioning Jess in the bathroom, bleeding, a puddle of spreading crimson on the tile around her.
All the worst things I’ve seen in my nearly ten years as a cop are coming at me at once—the woman who was stabbed in the back by her ex and didn’t even realize it because of the nerve damage, the teenager who had a stroke after she was punched in the face by a burglar, and the young mother who nearly died after a blow to her stomach caused internal bleeding.
Rationally, I know Jess is probably ok. But probably isn’t good enough. I need to see her for myself.
I come flying up to the parked patrol car and come to a squealing stop behind it. “Just got here,” I announce. “We’ll be inside in a second.”
Without waiting for her answer, I leap from the car and race towards the front door. After the soft metallic thunk of the passenger door, Oliver comes running up alongside me, his expression intense and his gun held low and ready.
“Don’t go busting in there,” he warns. “You know how it’s done.”
My footsteps slow as I approach the front porch.
Fuck. I do. As much as I want to go tearing inside, straight up to the bathroom where Jess is hiding, I can’t. Not with two other officers inside and still clearing the house.
“I know,” I grit out. But looking at Jess’s cracked front door, hanging ajar, seeing the glint of shattered glass just inside, knowing she’s right there …
Rapping on the doorjamb, I call out, “It’s Kane and Oliver. Let us know when it’s okay to come in.”
From somewhere inside, Kyle replies, “Almost done. Just checking the bedrooms.”
My fingers tighten on the handle of my Glock. I glance over at Oliver, and he gives me a quick chin lift. “She’s okay,” he says. “You’ll see.” Then he smirks. “Shea’s going to be so pleased.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she bet you would get together with Jess. Back when she saw you guys talking at the Halloween Festival. I told her I wasn’t sure. But she said she could just tell.”
“You know I’m dating Jess. It’s not a surprise.”
“True. But I think it’s more than just dating. Wouldn’t you say?”
Would I?
I knew I liked Jess before. A lot. But this…
This is something else entirely .
This is finding out she’s in trouble and not being there to protect her. Hearing her crying. Not knowing if she’s okay. Feeling more helpless than I have since my dad died. Wishing I’d insisted on more security. More cameras. More something to keep her safe.
“It’s more than dating,” I admit. “I know it’s soon. But she’s different.”
Is this the best time to realize the depth of my feelings for Jess? Probably not. But here they are. Big and bold and all-encompassing.
“Okay, house is clear.” Noah appears at the front door, a flashlight in one hand and his Glock in the other. He flicks the light switch beside the door, flooding the living room with light. “Kyle’s upstairs with the vic?—”
“My girlfriend,” I growl. “Not the victim. Jess. My girlfriend .”
He blinks. “Right. Of course. Sorry, man. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine.” Pushing past him, I hurry into the house.
Casting my gaze around the room, I get a good look at the extent of the damage.
Two windows in the front are broken; with glass strewn all over the floor.
Two large rocks are the clear culprit, one near each window.
A picture of Jess and her mom is cracked, and I spot one of the figures her mom used to collect lying in pieces on the carpet.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Who the fuck would do this?”
“Another window in the dining room is broken, too,” Noah adds. “Fortunately, no one got inside. Classic vandalism. Looks like at least third degree criminal mischief, maybe second.”
“It’s not classic,” I snap. “Someone is terrorizing?— ”
Shit. Noah’s not the one I’m angry with.
“Nevermind,” I amend. Then I jog to the stairs and take them two at a time, my pulse jumping the closer I get to Jess.
“I’ll help these guys look around,” Oliver calls after me. “And I’ll text Grant. See if he can come over tomorrow to fix these windows.”