2. Dom
I can’t stop thinking about the way Emma Hayes stared at that plate of tacos.
I want her to stare at me that way.
My dick needs her to stare at me that way, even if I know I can’t have her.
The duffel I grabbed from my truck hits the floor in my living room with a loud thud, and I don’t even care enough to wince at the expensive gear that may have been damaged.
“I see training went well.” My little sister sticks her head out of the kitchen and stares at me with a fierce expression on her face.
“A month, Vi.” I rake a still-dirty hand over my face. “I was supposed to be gone for two weeks. That’s what the fuckin’ contract I signed says. One weekend a month and two weeks a year. That’s it. I never should have gone reserve when I finished active duty.”
Violet rubs her hands on the apron she stole from my hall closet at some point while she stayed at my house. “I mean, what did you expect, hermano?The Marines don’t give a fig that you have a life to live.” She leans against the hall wall, not pushing for a hug or anything else, just giving me time, like she always does. “What happened?”
“They’re giving me two weeks,” I tell her honestly, not seeing a reason to keep it to myself. I do keep the classified shit out of my conversation, though. “There was an accident, and they need someone like me over there to handle it.”
The accident being an insurgent attack. And someone like me being a counter-sniper. I’m lucky they’re giving me two weeks to get my shit together at all, to be honest. They could have given me a week. Or a day.
She’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that I can see the wheels turning in my little sister’s head as she processes the vague explanation I’ve given her, trying to figure out exactly what I’ll be doing based on the news lately. I see it all happen, until she decides to leave it alone and just lets me slide by.
“I made food,” she offers before turning back to the kitchen. “You can wash up and then eat, and then you can tell Mom that you’re going overseas again.”
“Mom knows,” I tell Vi. “I went there first and let her know what was happening.”
Vi nods and then waves me off, which I’m thankful for. Mostly because I don’t have to explain to her that I partly went there to see Emma.
I stand in the shower for what feels like an hour, letting the hot water do its best to get rid of the dirt and grime that’s burned into my skin. My phone sits on the back of the toilet, blasting music that I’ll never own up to listening to. But as the strains of Citizen Soldier echo against my bathroom walls, all I can think about is Emma’s face when I tried to get her to talk to me.
Stupid.
So fucking stupid.
My best friend’s little sister.
Completely off-limits, regardless of the fact that Linc keeps trying to set us up.
I’d almost put her behind me. I swear I had.
A month in the desert, over a thousand miles from home, and she barely existed. Until I got that call from Linc and then decided to walk into Mom’s shop.
And there she was, with sweat-drenched clothes and a plate of food in front of her.
All my good intentions of staying away from her went out the window.
Just like that.
I followed her outside like a fuckin’ puppy, needing to have any amount of her time that I can.
I have two weeks.
Two weeks to convince her to give me a shot… and then what? Just ask her to wait for three months?
No.
I need to stay the fuck away from her until I’m home.
ThenI can try to win her over.
Maybe she’ll even forgive me for ditching her at Remy’s wedding.
When I finally get dressed, there isn’t a drop of hot water left, and I don’t give two shits about it. I put on the most comfortable pants I own, ignoring the fact that they’re a pair of jeans, and slide into a black t-shirt that’s barely holding on at the seams at this point.
“Here.” Vi shoves a rounded plate of mashed potatoes with gravy and honey-baked ham at me when I walk into the kitchen. “You eat. I’ll fill you in on everything you’ve missed.”
One bite of potatoes.
That’s what I manage to get into my mouth before my phone starts to ring.
“I need you to come into work tonight.” Linc’s voice fills the kitchen when I answer and put it on speaker, determined to get through dinner. “I know you’re not on shift and not slated to come back until later this week, but I need you to do me a solid and come cover some shit.”
I tear off a piece of ham and chew slowly, mostly so I don’t freak the fuck out and tell him to rot in hell. “Why?” I manage to growl as I swallow. “And don’t you dare tell me it’s so that you can have a night off with Kennedy.”
Over the last month, I’ve worked every single day. Reporting for two weeks’ duty the day after my friend Remy’s wedding was shit enough, but I haven’t even had a full twelve hours home yet after that two weeks turned into a month.
“Isn’t it enough that your favorite friend asked you to do it?” Linc snorts in the background before I get a chance to tell him how I really feel about things. “Emma sent me a text. The couple that lives across the street from her are fighting, and she’s got their kid over at her place for the night. I figured it might go easier if there’s a detective with me when I show up. You know, less intimidating or more intimidating, however you want to look at it. Emma asked me to call it in as a drive-by, rather than put her on the record. So really, you’d be doing her a favor that she doesn’t know about.”
Emma.
It has to be Emma. Not only has she completely invaded every single thought I’ve had for the last month, no matter what I’ve tried to tell myself while I was training, but from what I heard while I was gone, she’s also gotten into the habit of eating at my mother’s restaurant on an almost daily basis.
I put down my fork and stare longingly at my dinner. “Has it reached domestic dispute status?” I run a hand over the stubble on my chin.
“Not yet,” Linc says over the sound of static in the background of his cruiser. “Emma didn’t make an official report like I said. She just… She cares about the kid, you know. She doesn’t want to see anything bad happen if she can help it.” He sighs, and I feel the weight of his worry through the line. “She told me they were going at it again.”
“Text me the address,” I tell him. “I’ll put on some shoes.” I don’t tell him that he owes me one. I don’t give him a hard time about it. I just go. Because I’ll do anything for Emma, even if I can’t explain why.
“Don’t worry about the food,” Vi calls out behind me. “I’ll put it in the oven for you.”
I grab my gun and badge from the safe I had built into the wall by my front door and walk out without looking back. From the desert of California to the forests in Maine, I can’t seem to catch my breath. But as I slide behind the wheel of my truck and turn the ignition, there isn’t a single thing about my life that I’d change.
Hitting dial on my phone and then listening as it connects to my speakers via Bluetooth, I wait for dispatch to answer.
“Dom?” Poppy’s voice rings out loudly, and I wince as I turn down the volume. “What are you doing home? I thought you were out until the end of the week.”
“Linc called,” I explain. “Just mark me on duty, okay?”
“No problem.” She hangs up on me after that, no doubt busy with patrol.
One of the only benefits of having been promoted to detective is the distinct lack of having to call in with my every move. Instead, I pull out onto the road and head in the direction of Emma’s house. I don’t need Linc to text me the address, but I also don’t need him to know that I have his sister’s address memorized, either.
There are some levels of stalker that I won’t admit to.
The ten-minute drive, from one side of Birch to the other, gives me a chance to breathe. To think about what I can possibly say to her, because there isn’t a chance in hell that I’ll be able to wait until I’m home to try and convince her to give me the time of day.
That much is clear by the way I jumped at the chance to help just because she’s involved.
“Two weeks,” I tell the empty cab of my truck as I turn onto her street and see Linc’s cruiser parked in front of her house. I take the spot right behind it, not surprised in the least when I see Emma’s front door open, Linc illuminated by the light behind him. “Two fuckin’ weeks.”
“Thanks, Dom,” Linc says when I close the truck door and walk across the yard to greet my friend. “I know the last thing you wanted to do after getting home after a month was come to work on your first night back.”
“What?” Emma’s quiet voice speaks up from behind Linc. “You’ve been gone for a month?”
Linc winces and lifts his shoulder apologetically, like he’s messed up by saying anything in front of her.
“Yeah,” I tell her while doing my best to keep the blank expression on my face. “Have you heard any more from across the street since you sent your brother a text?” Changing the subject seems like a great idea, especially because I don’t want to get into the whole two-week situation with her. Not while her brother stands right here with us, at least.
“No.” Emma narrows her eyes knowingly. “Bianca fell asleep right after dinner.” She looks over her shoulder suddenly, like the little girl will be standing there with her. “She’s upset, and I’m worried about her… I think maybe the dad hurts her.” Emma turns back to face me with an expression I can’t quite make out. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.” Her voice breaks, and Linc steps in, pulling his sister into his arms.
I stand there, watching the two of them, jealous that I’m not the one comforting Emma, when the distinct sound of a gunshot fills the air.
Every instinct I have jumps into overtime, and Linc shoves Emma back through the open doorway. “Close and lock the door. Call 9-1-1. Tell them two officers are on scene, one in plainclothes.”
I don’t waste precious seconds to explain why she needs to listen. Don’t tell her that if someone is there across the street with a weapon, they might know where the child is. Even though my heart is racing in my chest, and the thought of Emma being in danger is filling my head, I push all of that aside.
There’s no time.
Instead, I plead with her using my eyes.
Please just listen.
Emma nods and shuts the door, locking it.
I turn away from her house, and Linc falls into step beside me, grabbing the mic at his shoulder.
“Dispatch, be advised, shots fired at my location in relation to the 10-45 in the CAD. Requesting backup and 10-57. Have the ambulance stage down the block until we know what’s happening.” His voice cuts into the eerie quiet around us as tension increases. “Both Ortiz and I are on scene.”
“Ten-four.”
There’s silence from the radio as we approach the older brown home, weapons drawn, my flashlight in my hand. Signaling Linc to stand to the other side of the door, I turn and use my boot to make entry.
Linc enters first, his gun held high, his uniform clearly present. “BPD. Drop your weapons.”
No response.
No other sound but the two of us quietly stepping into the house.
We clear the living room, light shining down on us from the fixture in the middle of the room, casting shadows and adding an ominous feeling to the already bad situation.
“Kitchen’s through here,” Linc whispers. I follow him down the hall, making sure to keep my gun up but not pointed at my friend.
When Linc steps over the threshold from carpet to linoleum, his boot hits something wet, and the subconscious wince that tears through my body at the realization of what we have to be walking into hits me like a freight train at the same time that I smell copper in the air.
“They’re both dead.” Linc sighs as he speaks, holstering his gun and turning back with a grim expression.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, stepping into the room and watching my step as I go.
We don’t want to contaminate anything that may need to be investigated, but I do need to see what’s going on.
Yeah, they’re both dead, alright. And there’s no question what happened. She’s got a gunshot wound, and there’s blood everywhere, surrounding her body as well as his body across the room.
The woman, one I’ve seen around town occasionally, is gorgeous, even in death. Her lifeless blue eyes stare up at the ceiling while her blond hair pools around her head, soaking up the blood still seeping from her chest.
Not ready to give up on her, I press my fingers to her neck and check for a pulse.
Nothing but my own heartbeat and the absence of life as Linc moves behind me, doing the same thing for the man who killed his wife.
“Gun,” he announces, and I hear the clear sound of metal scraping the floor and the chamber of the gun being checked. “How the hell does it get to this level?” Linc pulls the radio from his chest again and calls in the update to the situation while I ponder his question. “They kill each other rather than walk away?”
There’s blood on her hands, and fear written forever in her eyes. She didn’t want to die.
Over my shoulder, I notice the bloody knife that sits on the ground next to the dead man, and I know he pulled it out himself.
“She stabbed him,” I note. “And then he shot her.” It’s only speculation at this point, but I’d put money on it. “I wonder what drove them to this moment.” My heart aches for the little girl they left behind.
The list of things I have to do is a mile long and growing by the second, but when I step out of the house to catch my breath and see Emma staring at me from her doorway, everything fades away.
At least for a second.
I can see the pain in her eyes, and she knows it isn’t good. There’s not going to be any waking up from this nightmare for the little girl she’s taking care of.
We stand like that, two lost souls, watching each other for a solid minute, not looking away. Lost in the stolen moment until Linc comes up behind me and offers an apology.
“Hell of a way to welcome you back to Birch Harbor, man.”
I blink, and Emma’s just gone. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I completely imagined her being there.
I don’t have time to think about the fact that she makes me crazy.
But even as I force myself to think about the job I need to do, the bodies in the house that deserve my full attention, the answers I have to find, she’s still there.
While we catalog and sort evidence.
While we process everything in the kitchen and collect every single piece of their lives.
Emma’s there in the front of my mind, even when she shouldn’t be.
“Someone’s gotta tell Emma,” I tell Linc when the coroner pulls up to the house a little while later.
I want to be the one, as stupid as I know that would sound to her brother. I want to be the one to tell her, to offer the comfort she’s going to need.
The person she seeks in her darkest moment.
But she isn’t mine.
Not yet.