Mine

Chapter 1

Another day dealing with the slime of the world. Detective David Whitman sighed and peered out the windshield of the sheriff’s department vehicle through his aviators at the ratty house a block ahead. He rolled his neck. Relief accompanied a series of pops.

“Tense much?” His partner and friend Brandon Pierce smacked the piece of gum he’d shoved in his mouth a few minutes ago. A pre-raid habit. One that annoyed David, but if it kept his partner calm, he wouldn’t complain. The key to going home after each shift—never lose focus.

He glared at his partner. “Just because you think you’re bulletproof doesn’t mean I do.” He knew all too well how one stray bullet changed lives. He’d lived it.

Get out of your head, man.

David shifted in the passenger seat and adjusted his Kevlar vest. A check of his tactical pants pockets confirmed the extra ammo.

Search warrant Wednesdays. David inhaled, held it for ten seconds, and exhaled.

As a member of ICAC—the Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force—he prepped and planned for days like today.

Still, he itched with uncertainty. Things could go wrong in an instant.

And he refused to lose anyone else he loved.

His team, above everything else, was family.

He tapped twice on his vest pocket that held a picture of his parents and sister, plus another of his deceased fiancée. The ritual grounded him during the more dangerous aspect of his job.

“You think he’ll be there?” Brandon tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs.

David examined the neighborhood. “Our Confidential Informant had eyes on him a little while ago.” He’d repressed the urge to hug his CI when the man disclosed the location of Jimmy Roberts.

One by one, the ICAC team removed child predators from the streets. At times, it seemed the unsavory individuals popped up faster than baby rabbits. But each arrest gave the team a sense of satisfaction that kept them going.

David drummed his fingers on his thigh. The warm summer air draped over him and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.

“Let’s go make friends.” Brandon gave him a cheesy grin and slipped from the vehicle.

“Finally.” David sent up a quick prayer and followed his partner's actions. His body hummed with adrenaline as he approached the weather-worn cottage.

He and Brandon slipped to either side of the tattered screen at the front entry and placed their backs against the house. He shifted and peeked inside. His line of sight, a direct path through the interior.

Jimmy Roberts, child predator and all-around creep, sprinted toward the rear of the dwelling.

The back door swung open and slammed against the rattrap of a house.

“Pierce!” David flung open the screen door.

“On it!” Brandon’s voice trailed off as he jumped from the porch and tore around the side yard. For a guy who had ten years on David, the man could run.

David weaved through the garbage-laden house to the rear exit. The stench made his eyes water. He blinked, clearing his vision, and bolted down the steps into the cluttered backyard.

The suspect had panicked and taken off before David’s teammates Sandy and Rick moved to cover the rear entrance.

So much for serving a quiet little warrant.

Beer cans and garbage cluttered the ground making the obstacle course more difficult. He dodged a grill and bumped into a lawn chair. With a grunt, he got his footing and continued the chase.

What happened to Brandon?

“Police! Stop!” David tapped his mic. “Heading north towards the back alley.”

“Copy.” Sandy’s voice wobbled over the radio.

Times like today, he agreed with the people who considered him weird for his choice of work, but he found purpose and maybe a little justice working to take down those who committed crimes against children.

Plus, it took him away from the big city streets.

After the tragic death of his fiancée, he wanted nothing to do with that world.

His heart couldn’t take another loss like that.

He vaulted over a small wall. “Police! Stop!” He mentally rolled his eyes. As if that had worked the first time.

Boots crunching in the dried grass, David’s foot landed in a shallow hole. His ankle twisted and he stumbled. Fire shot through his leg, but he gritted his teeth and kept running.

The suspect scaled the chain-link fence at the end of the block, flung himself over, and landed at an awkward angle.

David grabbed the top of the metal barrier and swung his leg up, aiming to brace himself with his boot, but missed. His bicep contacted the sharp edge, tearing a ragged path through his skin. Rolling over the fence, he staggered to his feet, and shoved his knee in Jimmy’s back.

“My leg’s broken.” The man struggled against David’s weight.

He fought to slow his racing pulse. “Don’t move.” Reaching for his zip ties, the sensation of a hot poker stabbing him exploded through his limb. He sucked in a quick breath and glanced at the warm liquid streaming down his arm.

Not what he wanted to deal with today. He had an important appointment tomorrow and refused to miss it for any reason. Including injury.

Unable to procure the restraints, he maintained his position and waited for his teammates.

Brandon rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. He handed him a set of handcuffs. “Here.”

David secured the suspect and straightened. His adrenaline faded, and light-headedness threatened to knock him over. “Thanks, man. What took you so long?”

“Stupid dog,” Brandon muttered and held Jimmy in place.

Thankful for his partner’s presence, David slid to the side, fell on his rump, and allowed Brandon to take charge.

David hung his head and gripped his arm to staunch the flow of blood.

Voices mingled in a chaotic buzz as blue and red lights whirled in the distance.

He lifted his chin and caught a glimpse of the paramedics rolling a gurney in his direction. The shrubs and metal fence along the medics’ path merged in his vision, then cleared. The haze threatened to take over again. He sucked in air, praying the tunnel disappeared.

He glanced at Jimmy. The man had broken his leg but hadn’t seemed to notice the pain. Oblivious, due to a recent dose of drugs, no doubt, the man continued to give Brandon fits.

“What’d you take, Jimmy?” His partner struggled to hold Jimmy on the ground.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jimmy jerked against Brandon’s hold.

Sandy and Rick jogged over.

“Sandy, check the house. Rick, check his pockets.” Brandon threw out commands.

“I’m on it.” Sandy tossed David a bandana and took off.

Rick crouched next to the suspect. “All right, Jimmy. Anything in your pockets that’ll hurt me?”

David’s shoulders sagged. His team had things under control.

Grip on the nasty cut, blood trickled between his fingers.

His body begged him to go home and catch some shuteye, but the evening was far from over.

Part of his team would continue with the search warrant while he and his partner escorted the idiot who’d run to the hospital.

Probably not a bad idea since David probably required stitches.

He wrapped the bandana around his bicep and pulled it tight with his teeth.

He grumbled and rose to his feet. Swaying, he scrambled to prop himself against the chain-link fence, giving himself a minute to catch his breath and regain his equilibrium.

Definitely not the way he wanted his day to end.

***

“Ambulance, coming in hot.”

“Oh, for the love of mud—you’re ridiculous.” ER nurse Jennie Nielson shook her head as Randy scurried by on his way to prep bays one and two. The young man was a great medical assistant, but the twenty-one-year-old’s sense of humor killed her.

She dashed to the entrance, unsure what she’d find.

The Pinewood Shores Emergency Department doors whooshed open, and the warm night air rushed in. Paramedics pushed a gurney through the doublewide entry.

An injured man thrashed on the slim white mattress, and two officers strode beside him. One with a limp.

The small crowd struggled to hold the man in place.

“I’m losing my grip!”

“Don’t let go of his good leg!”

Heavy breathing, mixed with grunts, filled the otherwise quiet ER.

Jennie hurried to assist the salt and pepper haired medic she’d grown to love like a father. “What’s he on, Mitch?”

“Flakka. What else?”

They whipped the rolling bed into the closest curtain-lined room and set the brakes.

She stood over the agitated man and trapped one of his wrists to the bed.

He kicked out and connected with a metal tray, sending instruments clanking on the floor.

“I’ve got him.” An officer nudged her aside.

She glared at the man next to her. Did she look like she couldn’t handle herself? Sure, he had four or five inches on her five-seven frame and probably outweighed her by seventy-five pounds, but really? She had a job to do, and he’d butted in.

Doctor Jeremy Bennett scurried into the bay with Jennie’s nurse friend Tammy on his heels. Tammy tightened the straps across the patient’s body and added her weight to restrain the injured man.

“Nielson, take care of Detective Whitman. It seems trouble found him again.” Bennett raised a brow at the officer.

The detective’s partner took over, and Whitman wrapped his hand around his bicep.

“Yes, doctor.” Her gaze landed on the officer’s upper arm. Blood had soaked the cloth wrapped around his arm. “Sir, if you’ll follow me.”

The detective grumbled. He limped to the next bay and slid onto the exam table.

Jennie grabbed the white cloth screen.

“Leave it open.”

She pivoted. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t shut the curtain.” His tone left no room for argument.

Just what she needed, another overbearing, controlling, egotistical man—Not. Of course, she might be a little jaded after barely surviving her living nightmare. “Listen, Detective—”

“David.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, keeping the sarcasm from tumbling from her lips. Law enforcement officers had a reputation for having a take-charge demeanor, and rightly so, but this man tried her patience.

Let it go and do your job.

She inhaled and returned her attention to the supply tray. “Okay—David. What happened?” Jennie snapped on a clean pair of blue latex gloves and turned to face him.

He jutted his chin toward the man that continued to struggle against those trying to treat him. “Bad guy over there decided to run. I twisted my ankle and sliced my arm on the edge of a metal fence.”

She unwrapped the bandana around David’s arm.

The jagged gash required stitches, but not severe enough for immediate attention.

She rinsed the wound with saline and rewrapped his bicep with a compression wrap until the doctor had time to stitch the cut, then moved to his ankle and poked and prodded.

He hissed in a breath.

“Well, tough guy, the good news, neither are too serious. Bad news, you’ll be sore, and you’ll need a few stitches. Plus, a tetanus shot if you’re not up to date.” She could have sworn the man turned green. “Something wrong?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Just hate needles.”

“Good to know.” She pursed her lips to hide the grin pulling at her lips. Served Mr. Takeover-My-Job right for sticking his nose where he didn’t belong.

He narrowed his gaze. “You look like you’re having a little too much fun with that piece of info.”

She sighed and mentally reprimanded herself. “Sorry. That wasn’t nice of me. I promise to be gentle.”

David studied her, then nodded. “I appreciate that.”

A grunt and crash caught Jennie off guard. The suspect broke through the restraint, grabbed a pair of scissors, and drew his arm back. She stood paralyzed. Her gaze shifted to Detective Whitman.

David’s eyes widened. He flew off the hospital bed and tackled her. His forearm smacked across her face.

The scissors clanged against the wall and tumbled to the floor.

“Stay down,” he growled in her ear.

Her cheek throbbed, and her pulse raced. “Get off me!”

She clawed and fought to get away. Crawling to the opposite wall, she hugged her knees.

The heat of her swollen face and the sensation of a man pinning her down had her heart fighting to pound out of her ribcage.

Shoes scuffled on the floor and shouts echoed in the small area.

Jennie froze. She had to assist, but her body refused to cooperate. Her mind tumbled to the past. Her ex-boyfriend Kenny’s fist contacting her face and hateful words spewing from his lips.

“Jennie.” A voice flittered through the haze. “Nielson!” Doctor Bennett’s command snapped her back to the present.

She scrambled to her feet. “Yes, sir.”

“10 milligrams Diazepam. Now!” Bennett strained to push the patient’s shoulders to the bed while Mitch, both officers, and Tammy each grabbed a limb.

She hurried to get the medication and fumbled with the syringe. Inhaling, she clutched the man’s forearm and inserted the sedative into his upper arm. She added her weight to Tammy’s and held tight until the medication took effect.

Doctor Bennett released his hold. “Well, that was fun, boys and girls.”

Taking two steps backward, she absorbed the sight. Everyone appeared frazzled. The man had ripped the IV from his arm. Blood splattered the white sheets and the floor—not to mention her own scrubs and the detective’s polo shirt. A massacre scene from a horror movie came to mind.

Blood flowed down David’s arm.

Her gaze locked with his. Color washed from his face.

“Detective, I think you better sit down.” She clasped his uninjured arm and led him to the adjacent bed.

He dropped his chin to his chest. “I don’t feel….”

“Mitch!”

The paramedic scrambled to her side. He grabbed the officer under the arms, and she lifted the man’s legs. Together, they swung the detective onto the mattress.

She unwrapped the bandage. The fight had caused the wound to split further, and his arm bled at an alarming rate from the physical stress.

She applied pressure to his cut to stem the bleeding. “Doc, I need you as soon as you’re free.” Taking a deep breath, she willed her stomach to uncoil, but the swelling on her cheekbone made it impossible to shake the internal fear.

David’s eyes fluttered open. His unfocused gaze landed on her. He blinked.

“Welcome back.” Jennie grabbed supplies with her free hand. She cleaned and prepped the detective’s arm. “Doctor Bennett will be here in a minute to stitch you back together.”

“Thanks.” He touched his forehead. “Can’t believe I passed out.”

“It happens.” She shrugged and continued her care.

He grabbed her wrist. “Listen. I want to….”

The panic alarm inside her head went off. She jerked from his grip. “Don’t!”