Miranda smiled sadly. It felt like a goodbye.
She didn’t want him to go.
‘Don’t forget that,’ he insisted.
‘I won’t,’ she promised.
His gaze roamed over her face before he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. ‘Go back to sleep.’
Miranda ran her palm up over his chest. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?’
He smiled the crooked smile she loved so much. ‘You fired me, remember?’
‘You’re rehired.’
‘Go to sleep.’
Stretching upwards, she wound her arm around his neck and lifted her chin. ‘I’m not sleepy any more.’
Tyler sighed heavily, his voice laced with regret. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.’
Something cold and metallic snapped around her wrist.
Miranda twisted her head on the pillow so she could see what he was doing. ‘What is that?’
The restraint was unyielding as he closed a second loop around one of the iron rungs on her bedstead.
‘If you’d fallen asleep I wouldn’t have to do this.’ He got to his feet. ‘Water’s beside you. I don’t have any aspirin or I’d leave that, too. You’re gonna need it when you wake up.’ He bent over and lifted a washbowl off the floor to wave it at her. ‘You can use this if you need to be sick or feel the call of nature.’
‘It’s an
antique.
’
‘Then you better not break it.’
The outrage she felt was the equivalent of downing a dozen cups of espresso, the effects of the alcohol wearing off pretty damn fast as he walked away.
‘You can’t leave me like this.’ She lowered her voice to snap,
‘Tyler!’
‘I’ll leave the key for Grace. She’s usually in before everyone else.’
And then he was gone.
Flumping back onto the pillow, she lifted her chin to glare at the handcuffs and rattled stainless steel against iron. How was she supposed to explain
that
in the morning?
She was going to kill him the next time she saw him.
TWENTY-THREE
By the time Tyler returned to his partner and the rookie detective who’d been attempting to fill his shoes, the stake-out wasn’t a stake-out any more. ‘Can’t believe you were gonna start the party without me...’
‘ESU just got here. You haven’t missed anything.’ He frowned. ‘Where’s your vest?’
‘In my locker,’ Tyler replied. ‘Tell me it’s him.’
He wanted the day of reckoning out of the way so he knew if he had a future to plan.
‘Arrived on the heels of a large shipment—we’ve got him this time. There’s nowhere to go.’
As they silently approached the warehouse with their weapons drawn Tyler forced any thoughts of Miranda to the back of his mind. He knew she was safe, that had to be enough, even if he regretted not telling her how he felt when he had the chance. It was better he hadn’t, he reasoned, especially now.
The raid was textbook, communication made with hand signals to place everyone in position before a countdown of fingers indicated when ESU would break down the door. Once they were inside it went equally smoothly—Tyler’s voice joining the others to identify them as cops to the gang of men unpacking boxes. As they raised their hands in the air his gaze searched their faces and shifted in time to see a couple of men disappearing into the back.
Tyler ran after them, slowing his pace when the chase led into abandoned machinery and piles of empty crates.
His partner caught up to him. ‘You see them?’
‘Not yet.’
They split up, working as one to search high and low.
‘One over there.’ Tyler pointed when he heard a noise and saw a figure too short and stocky to be the man he was after. ‘I’ve got the other one.’
‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
The warning fell on deaf ears, the dark side to his nature taking over as he stalked his prey. Tyler didn’t fight it. He welcomed its arrival, embraced it and challenged it to do its worst. It was the only way he would know how far he could go. To fuel the need for revenge he summoned the image of a broken body to the front of his mind, saw the unnatural position of her limbs and thought about how much she’d suffered.
Then he rounded a corner into a narrow alley of crates and saw Demietrov standing a few feet away.
A slow, cold smile appeared on the man’s face.
Tyler frowned, the gun wavering a little in front of him. Restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he locked his arms into place and looked down the barrel with determination. He could feel the weight of his finger resting on the trigger, but even when looking his nemesis straight in the eye he couldn’t take the shot.
Something wouldn’t let him.
When he spoke his voice rang around the empty space with the kind of conviction that came from doing the right thing. ‘Andrei Demietrov, I’m placing you under arrest for the trafficking of illegal substances and the suspected murder of Candice James.’ The darkness shrank within him, folding in on itself until it became the manageable part of his personality it had been before his life got so screwed up. ‘You have the right to remain silent—’
As he stepped forwards the man reached out and tumbled the nearest pile of crates to the ground, creating a domino effect that forced Tyler to jump out of the way before he continued the chase. There was the sound of a door slamming shut. When he got to it and swung it open he discovered it was raining outside. He checked each side of an arch of security lighting and took a step forwards...
The impact knocked him backwards a second before he heard the shot and felt a searing heat blaze through his shoulder. There was another shot in quick succession—he felt a second burn in his upper arm—and then there was a hail of gunfire and a body slumped onto the ground. As he staggered backwards Tyler knew he hadn’t fired his weapon. The ESU guys had done what he couldn’t.
Sickly warmth soaked his shirt as his back hit the wall beside the door and his knees gave out.
He stared at the body as his partner appeared and swore succinctly while prying the gun from his hand. ‘This is Detective Ramirez, we have an officer down—I repeat, officer down. I need a bus at—’
As he rhymed off the address—presumably over the phone—Tyler felt a sense of peace wash over him. When it came down to the wire he didn’t have it in him to murder a man in cold blood. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he’d thought. Maybe Miranda had pulled him back from the edge. He tried to focus past the pain while the warmth drained from his body. Getting shot hurt like a bitch. And he’d left Miranda handcuffed to her bed.
A rumble of laughter made him groan.
‘You want to share the joke?’ his partner asked as he took a look at the damage.
‘The one time I don’t wear a vest...’ he mumbled back.
‘Murphy’s Law...you’re Irish...work it out.’
Tyler swore when he added pressure to the wound on his shoulder. ‘Don’t think that’ll help,’ he gritted through clenched teeth as his vision blurred. ‘I think that one went through.’
‘Here’s hoping. If it’s gone through they won’t have to dig it out. What about your arm?’
‘That one they’ll have to dig out.’
‘Just as well you’re right-handed, isn’t it?’
Tyler frowned. A few feet back, to the side of the ESU’s tactical guys as they checked the body lying on the ground, a silent figure stood in the pouring rain. Her face wasn’t covered in blood any more and she was smiling at him. How could she be happy he’d failed her—wasn’t the whole point of haunting him to keep him focused on avenging her death? ‘I’m sorry.’ It was the first time he’d told her that. ‘I screwed up.’
‘You’ve got nothing to apologize for,’ his partner replied, obviously under the impression Tyler was talking to him. ‘Can happen to the best of us.’
When he blinked the raindrops off his lashes Candice was replaced by another woman with long dark hair and while she was smiling, too, she was also shaking her head. Why was he seeing Jo? She wasn’t dead. He blinked again, the movement taking more effort than it had before.
‘Stay with me,’ his partner’s voice said.
A woman with tumbling tresses of flame-red hair appeared in Jo’s place and even in the rain Tyler could see she was crying. His heart twisted. She should never have to cry because of him, even if part of it was alcohol related. He wanted to make her happy, hear her laugh every day and see the fire in her eyes when they argued. He didn’t have to keep his foot on the brake any more. The obstacles standing in their way weren’t insurmountable. If they were then he wouldn’t feel the way he did.
Not that he had any control over it.
‘Stay with me.’
She’d said that, too, and he’d never wanted anything more. If they’d been born in an earlier time he’d happily keep her barefoot and pregnant and protect what was his, keeping them safe from marauders. He’d have been good at that. All the touchy-feely modern-day stuff that said a guy was supposed to embrace his feminine side and emote, not so damn much. Tyler didn’t have a feminine side. Karl Jung could take his theories on human psychology and—
‘Ty, snap out of it.’ A hand smacked his cheek a few times. ‘You gotta stay awake.’
Damn, it was cold. He should have worn a jacket. Screw the jacket, he should have worn his damn vest and then he wouldn’t be ruining a perfectly good sweater.
‘Anyone on your team an EMT?’ his partner yelled at the ESU guys. ‘Get him over here!’
Excellent—someone else to fuss over him. Anyone would think he was the first person in the world to get shot.
‘I’ll call your family when we get to the emergency room,’ his partner said in a lower voice.
‘You do that I’ll kick your ass.’
‘Anyone you
do
want me to call?’
‘No.’ Since shaking his head took too much effort, he frowned again. ‘Don’t want to worry her.’
‘We all need someone who does that.’
‘You’d like her.’ His voice slurred.
‘Can’t be that good a judge of character if she likes you...’ His partner moved to make room for someone else. ‘We need to stop the bleeding.’
‘I’m on it,’ a voice he didn’t recognize said. ‘Stay with us, brother.’
With his eyelids growing heavy Tyler used up some of his waning energy on what probably looked like a sappy smile. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it but she did like him. Unless he was very much mistaken—and he prayed he wasn’t—she liked him a whole heap. Way he saw it she was his—he just had to find a way to make her believe it, too. Jo hadn’t been his one who got away. But if he was dumb enough to let Miranda go without putting up one hell of a fight she would be.
They just needed a little more time....
‘Stay awake, Ty. Where the hell’s that bus?’
It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours he found his ass on wet ground while he wondered when he’d fallen for her. The first had been the ‘there you are’ moment that identified her as the one he’d been waiting for all along. He’d even laughed with joy. She was the reason he’d been emotionally unavailable to other women. She was the reason he hadn’t told Jo how he’d thought he felt. At times she drove him nuts but she was smart and funny and gutsy and sexy as hell. It shouldn’t have been such a great surprise he wanted to hold on to her. Any guy would. But they could forget it. She was
his.
‘Tell her,’ he mumbled.
‘Tell her what?’
Somewhere along the way she’d got under his skin and crawled inside, filling him up until everything else was pushed out. It didn’t matter if it was too soon or that there was still so much for him to learn about her. It was just there...like air...without it...
He couldn’t breathe.
‘Ty, come on, man, you gotta hold on.’
He hadn’t known love could be so...
big.
He felt crushed under the weight of it. If he knew she could feel the same way it would lift him up higher than he’d ever been before. But until they got a chance to talk he just needed a little nap—he had to be at full strength to fight for her. Forty winks should do it.
With sirens sounding in the distance she was the last thought on his mind as he passed out.
TWENTY-FOUR
Miranda opened her eyes and groaned as she squinted at the bright light shining through a crack in the curtains. When she turned over to check the time on the alarm clock the handcuffs snagged her wrist.
‘Damn it, Tyler.’
The three gentle knocks on her bedroom door echoed inside her head as if they’d been made with a demolition ball. ‘Grace?’ she asked tentatively.
The door opened a crack. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes.’
Miranda fought embarrassment as the older woman crossed the room. ‘Tell me there’s a key in that envelope.’
‘With a note which said to bring this...’ she held out a bottle of aspirin ‘...and that you’d probably want a bucket of coffee...’
‘You have
no idea.
’ She took a deep breath while Grace negotiated the lock on the loop above her head. ‘You’re probably wondering what’s going on.’
‘I don’t need an explanation.’
Miranda held up her arm when it was freed from the bed. ‘You have a soft spot for him, don’t you?’
‘Well, he is handsome...’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘And you have been happier in the last few weeks...’
When the second loop opened she rubbed her wrist. ‘Yes, I was.’
Grace studied her face with knowing eyes. ‘I wouldn’t give up on him yet. A man doesn’t handcuff a woman to a bed to keep her safe if he doesn’t care.’ Setting the handcuffs on the bedside cabinet, she lowered her voice and smiled with a rare glimpse of mischievousness. ‘Not that there aren’t other things you could do with them...’
‘Grace.’
Miranda gasped. ‘I’m shocked.’
‘No, you’re not.’ She chuckled as she turned away. ‘I’ll have them bring breakfast to your room.’
‘Wait.’ Swinging her legs off the bed Miranda stood up to fold her in a grateful hug. ‘You know I love you, right? I don’t say it enough.’
Having been—what had he called it, treated to a hug-fest?—she wanted more hugs in her life. When Tyler was gone she would need them.
‘You don’t have to say it. You’re the daughter I never had.’ Grace leaned back and winked. ‘Now make me proud and go give that handsome devil hell for what he did to you.’
‘I will.’
The thought lifted her spirits a little and by the time she’d showered, had breakfast and was feeling more human she’d made a decision. There was no point dwelling over how little time they had left. If all they had was a few more weeks she was going to make the most of them. He did care—if she’d been thinking sensibly she’d have known that without him saying it. She had to accept that was enough, even if she struggled with it. But she didn’t want a marriage proposal or a drawer at his apartment or even to keep a toothbrush in his bathroom. All she wanted was to continue seeing him. Maybe she should tell him that?
If it didn’t feel like the biggest step she’d ever taken with the most massive gaping cavern for her to fall into if he didn’t feel the same way, she might consider it.
She checked her watch and frowned. Grace was late with the itinerary. It wasn’t like her. Lifting her things, she decided to meet her at her desk, the sight of someone she hadn’t expected making her footsteps falter when she got there. ‘Lewis. I didn’t think you were working today.’
‘I wasn’t.’
Miranda’s gaze shifted when Grace appeared from her father’s office, the grim expression on her face creating a sense of foreboding. ‘What’s going on?’
‘We don’t know much yet,’ she replied in a low voice. ‘But it’s all over the news. Apparently Detective Brannigan was on some kind of drugs raid last night and—’
‘No.’
The word parted her lips on a tortured whisper.
Grace reached out a hand and squeezed her arm. ‘He’s all right. Your father has asked me to find out what hospital he’s in so we can send a gift.’
‘What happened?’
It earned another squeeze—one that didn’t loosen—which suggested she knew Miranda would need the support.
‘He was shot.’
Grace had been right; she did need the support. Her body swayed, a wave of nausea rising in her throat. It was her worst nightmare. She couldn’t bear the thought of him lying bleeding somewhere while she’d been sleeping. But falling apart wasn’t going to help.
The only thing that would was seeing him.
Making a conscious effort to prick the bubble of shock surrounding her body, she summoned strength she didn’t know she possessed and took charge. ‘Lewis, bring the car to the door and use your connections in the department to find out what hospital he’s in. You’ll find out quicker than Grace.’
He nodded as he left.
‘I need you to reorganize today’s itinerary,’ she told Grace. ‘Most of the morning involves listening to speeches so they can do without me but there’s a scheduled visit to a veterans’ association before lunch. Give them a call and see if we can move it back a couple of hours. If we can’t extend my apologies and see if we can reschedule for later in the week—tell them I’m sick if you need to.’
‘I’ll see to it. What do you want me to tell your father if he asks where you are?’
‘Tell him the truth. If he has a problem he can discuss it with me later.’
‘I’ll call you with an update.’
Between several calls, a check on the internet for what little news there was and with Lewis driving with the lights flashing on the front grill of the SUV, they reached their destination in relatively good time.
Standing at a nurse’s station, she announced, ‘I’m looking for Detective Brannigan’s room. I was told it’s on the fifth floor.’
‘Are you family?’
‘He’s my bodyguard.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’m Miranda Kravitz. My father is the mayor.’
Meaning if the woman got in her way she would have a fight on her hands...
‘Do you think you can get him to stay in bed?’
The question made her sag with relief. If they were having difficulty keeping him in bed it was a good sign. ‘Point me in the right direction and I’ll give it a try.’
‘Third door on the left,’ the woman replied. ‘Good luck. You’re going to need it.’
After pausing beside the open door to draw a deep breath of air into her lungs, Miranda crossed the threshold and took an inventory with her eyes. He was sitting on the end of the bed, frowning at a navy T-shirt as he tried to find a way of putting it on one-handed. Under normal circumstances her gaze would have snagged on his bare chest and marvelled at the sight of smooth skin stretched over taut muscle. Instead it was drawn to the squares of gauze taped to his upper arm and below his shoulder. If the second square had been a few inches lower the bullet would have punctured a lung.
She swallowed the jagged lump in her throat to ask, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
His gaze lifted, a brief flash of surprise crossing his face before his voice rumbled, ‘It’s called escaping. You of all people should know that. How did you get here?’
‘Lewis brought me. I didn’t give him a choice.’ She crossed the room and set her bag down on an empty chair. ‘And you’re not going anywhere. What did the doctor say?’
‘That they dug out the bullet, replaced the blood I lost and stitched up the holes.’
‘And that you should
rest,
right?’
‘Look, I get what you’re doing but if you want to do something useful you can get me the hell out of here before my family comes back. If I have to endure another candlelit vigil around this bed I’m gonna jump out that window. My mother is
this far away...
’ he raised the hand holding the T-shirt to demonstrate the distance with a small gap between his thumb and finger ‘...from getting Father Mike to drop by and bless me.’
‘They’re worried about you,’ Miranda argued in their defence, ignoring his obvious frustration.
Tyler lowered his hand, frowning at the T-shirt again as he held it at arm’s length and tried to shake it straight. ‘If it wasn’t for one of Danny’s ESU buddies flapping his jaw none of them would have known.’
‘Well, it’s nice to know I wasn’t the only person you didn’t think merited a phone call.’
His hand dropped onto his lap.
‘Miranda—’
‘If the doctor says you’re supposed to stay in bed—’
‘I can do it at home.’ He looked up into her eyes. ‘I don’t need anyone’s approval to check out. They can put a note on the form to say it’s against medical advice if they’re worried about covering their asses.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do I get the impression this isn’t your first visit to a hospital?’
‘Me and Father Mike go way back—broken leg when I was nine, first concussion when I was twelve...’
She arched a brow. ‘
First
concussion?’
‘I read a lot. When I was a kid it made it feel like I had something to prove when it came to sports. Get me out of here and you can examine every inch of me for scars.’
‘Promises, promises,’ she muttered before accepting the inevitable. There was no way he was staying put, but if she couldn’t stop him leaving she could make sure they took every possible precaution. ‘You’re not leaving until I’ve talked to your doctor and he’s prescribed pain medication.’
Tyler stood up. ‘I don’t need any.’
Again with the something to prove, but the lines of strain at the corners of his eyes and the rigid set of his jaw suggested otherwise. She folded her arms. ‘I have a vehicle and a driver who can take you straight home. Do you want help to escape or not?’
Surprisingly he took a moment to mull it over, his gaze searching the air before he lifted his hand. ‘You can start with helping me put on a T-shirt. I’ve been swearing at this thing for the last five minutes.’
Miranda noted the way he avoided looking at her and got the sense he wasn’t happy with her being there. It hurt that he wasn’t—especially when she’d been so desperate to see him. But she wasn’t there for totally selfish reasons—she wanted to be there
for him.
If he’d let her...
‘In order for me to do that you have to sit back down...’ She looked at the T-shirt as she took it from him, noticed something behind it and shook her head. ‘Let me guess. You gave up swearing at the button on your jeans five minutes ago.’
Determined she could touch him impassively while he was injured, she stepped forwards and folded the T-shirt over her forearm to free up her hands. But it wasn’t her reaction she should have worried about. The second her fingers folded around the waistband of his jeans—the backs of her fingers brushing against warm skin—he sucked in a sharp breath and tensed. Her gaze darted upwards and tangled with his, the mixture of heat and pain in his eyes making her grimace.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t be,’ he gritted back before the heat in his eyes intensified to drown out the pain.
Miranda slipped the button into the loop and removed her hands. ‘Sit.’ She lifted the T-shirt. ‘Bad arm first...’
The eye contact was broken to allow her to negotiate dressing him with as little discomfort as possible, but when the task was complete he forced her gaze back to his by capturing her wrist.
‘I’m fine,’ he said firmly.
‘No, you’re not.’ Her voice trembled a little on the words. ‘You got shot. With a
gun.
’
‘Technically speaking I got shot with bullets
fired
from a gun.’ A corner of his mouth tugged when she frowned. ‘Still here, aren’t I?’
A landslide of the emotions she’d been burying tumbled down on her, hammering her heart into a bruised ball of pulp. She’d known he would leave soon but if he’d
died...
He was so much more than she was. While she’d slept off the alcohol she’d consumed in a bid to escape reality he’d been on the front line, protecting the city. He’d dedicated his life to making the world a safer place without seeking anything in return. How could a man like him ever love a woman like her? He deserved so much better.
Lifting her free hand, she ran trembling fingers over his short hair and down the back of his neck. He closed his eyes in response—what looked like agony crossing his face before he opened them. She wanted to take away his pain and soothe the tension from his body. She wanted to take care of him, listen to the things that troubled him and put his needs above her own. She wasn’t any good at cooking or cleaning or doing laundry—doubted she would ever fill the role of domestic goddess—but she was willing to
try.
If there was anything she could do to make his life easier she would put her heart and soul into it. She just wished she thought she could be happy that way.
Even if she hadn’t already planned to find something that could allow her to make a difference to people’s lives, getting to know him would have inspired her. The irony was they could probably have teamed up. One of the charities on her shortlist dealt with victim support...
‘You know this means I’m not your bodyguard any more.’
She stared at him. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.
As her hand lowered to her side he explained, ‘They’ll make me take time off. If I’m lucky I’ll get desk duty in a week but I won’t be back on tour until after the election.’
Miranda felt the time that had meant so much to her slipping through her fingers. She twisted her wrist free and took a step back, turning away to pack what few things he had into the open sports bag on the bed beside him. His family must have brought what they thought he needed. They had the right to do that. She probably shouldn’t even be there. Purposefully keeping her tone light, she told him, ‘You’ll heal quicker that way.’
‘And you’ll be busy with the campaign.’
‘I will.’ If he was trying to let her down easy there wasn’t any need. She’d known a day would come when he wouldn’t be there any more. She was just thankful he would be
somewhere—
could take comfort from that while spending the rest of her life trying to make him proud to say he’d known her. ‘It can get hectic in the last few weeks.’
‘When it’s over you’ll be free.’
‘I’m looking forward to it. I’ve made a lot of plans—things I want to do, places I want to see.’ Silently clearing her throat, she lifted her chin and informed him, ‘I’m going to check in with your doctor. Lewis should be up in a minute. Then we’ll take you home.’