Strike (Tortured Heroes Book 4) Page 6

  “Do your thing,” I said. Sheila turned on her lights and tore off after the driver. She had gone two blocks before I realized who it was. My heart flipped as I saw the Florida plates as the car slowed and pulled to the side.

  Sheila started punching the plate numbers into her dashboard computer and I put a hand on her arm.

  “Do you mind letting me deal with this one?”

  Sheila narrowed her eyes. “You feeling nostalgic or something?”

  I debated being straight with her. Sheila was one of the good guys. If I asked her to keep her mouth shut about something, she would. I just wasn’t sure this was worth the risk to even go that far.

  “I know her,” I said. Sheila understood the tone in my voice. To her credit, she just gave me a slight brow raise then nodded. She cleared her computer screen and sat back in her seat.

  “You want me to wait for you?”

  I smiled. “Maybe just for a second. I’ll let you know whether I need a ride after all.”

  “You certainly make shit interesting, Killian. I’ll give you that.”

  “Yeah? So when are you gonna get off the damn street and do something worthwhile with your life?”

  “What, like hang around with you losers on SWAT? No, thanks. I like my black and white just fine.”

  I flapped a hand at Sheila and headed for the car with the Florida plates. Hell, we were two blocks from her house. Sure, this was a small town and nothing more than coincidence, but something tugged low in my gut. It felt a little more like fate.

  Her slender hand slid out of the driver’s side window as I approached. She hadn’t seen me yet. I stepped back out of her view and took her license and registration. Waiting a beat, I finally came forward and leaned into her window.

  “Do you know what you’ve done, ma’am?” I asked.

  Charlotte’s sharp intake of breath went straight to my heart. The color drained from her face as she looked at me.

  “You’re … are you?”

  “Following you? Um. No. I mean, not until you nearly blew through that light going fifteen over. Did you know you’re two blocks from a school zone?”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to say something, then clamped it shut and shook her head as she realized I was teasing.

  “Are you going to write me a ticket?”

  I put my hand on the top of her car and hissed through my teeth. “You know, if it gets out that the chief’s daughter got special treatment, that could go bad for the both of you.”

  She kept her hands on the wheel at ten and two and stared straight ahead. Only the tiny furious pulse in her left temple let me know how unsettled she was. I was finding I liked her that way the best.

  Charlotte leaned to the right and peered into her rearview mirror. Sheila was still parked behind her with her lights flashing.

  “What are you doing in a patrol car, Officer Killian?” she asked.

  “Well, see, that’s a little embarrassing. My car died.”

  Charlotte dropped her jaw again then clamped it shut. I was starting to love when she did that. Hell, I was starting to love infuriating her. She was damn sexy that way. The problem was, Sheila back there knew me well enough too. Even though she knew how to keep her mouth shut, it would be better if she didn’t know anything in the first place.

  “Wait here.”

  I walked back to Sheila and peered into her open window.

  “Listen, this is a big ask. But can I trust you to just keep this between the two of us? I want to handle this myself.”

  Sheila raised a brow, but said nothing else in the way of judgment. “I’m confident you know what you’re doing.”

  I laughed. “No, you’re not.”

  “Okay, I’m not. But I’m not going to get in the way. You sure you can find your way back?”

  “Abundantly. Thanks for calling in the tow. You don’t mind hanging out here and waiting for it?”

  “Now, what the hell else better do I have to do?”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you, babe. I’ll see you around.” Tapping the top of Sheila’s car, I straightened and started a slow walk back to Charlotte’s vehicle. She kept her eyes on me through her side mirror the whole way.

  “Well, you just lost your ride, Officer,” Charlotte said as I got to her open window.

  “It appears I did.”

  “You planning on leaving me stranded out here all alone? Look at the sky. I think rain’s coming.”

  “It would serve you right.”

  This was a terrible idea. Charlotte knew it and I knew it. But I think we also both knew we were going to do it anyway.

  “How about lunch?” I said. “Simple. I’ll even buy.”

  She rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a second, then looked back up at me. The universe didn’t help. Just then, a crack of thunder tore across the sky.

  “Oh God. Get in, Killian. Before I change my mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  Charlotte

  I don’t know why I said yes. God, that’s not even true. This man had me lying to myself, even. Every good instinct I had told me to just leave him there in the middle of the damn street. The man might just as well have had “player” tattooed across his forehead. Good grief, the other night when I met him at the bar it’s what I banked on. That alone should have been enough to get me to turn this car around and leave him in the road.

  I gripped the steering wheel and followed his directions. We went down two side streets near campus and ended up at a Mexican place I’d never heard of. Although that wasn’t saying much since I was still trying to get my bearings around Lincolnshire.

  “You sure this place is safe?” I asked, peering under the rearview mirror. It was a square, brick building painted almost neon yellow with a red roof. A crooked sign read El Nino’s.

  “That’s a rather ominous name considering the storm clouds,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, they have the best two-dollar tacos in the state. Swear to God.”

  “I can’t imagine the bar is set very high on that one, muchacho.”

  Ben laughed and opened his door. He appeared at my side and opened my car door like a perfect gentleman. I couldn’t help myself from shooting him a wry, sideways glance as I stepped out.

  “Aren’t we a little beyond chivalry, Officer Killian?”

  He jerked his head back slightly, appearing genuinely hurt. When he clutched his hand to his chest I knew he was laying on the bullshit. Still, I took his offered hand. That was my second mistake after agreeing to come here with him. The man had an almost drug-like effect on me. The minute my skin touched his, fire shot through me and I felt weak in the knees. God, not since junior high had I let any man get to me like this. What was it about him?

  Ben kept a light hand at the small of my back as we walked into the restaurant together. Besides the two-dollar tacos, it became immediately clear why he chose the place. It was small and dark with a cozy vibe and small, round wooden tables. Ben led me to a table nearest the kitchen and gestured to the waitress near the cash register. We were the only two customers here.

  We took our seats. I ordered water and trusted Ben about the tacos. Then I folded my hands in my lap and leaned back in my chair. Now that I’d done it, every fiber of my being told me I should head for the hills before I got in any deeper with him.

  “I gotta be honest, Charlotte. I have no idea why I asked you here.”

  I opened my mouth to answer but found I didn’t have one. Instead, I clamped my jaw shut and ended up laughing. It eased the tension between us and Ben started laughing too. He threw his head back and his body shook from it.

  “Well,” I said. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea why I said yes.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. This man churned something inside of me that scared and thrilled me all at once. I knew the danger of it. Neither one of us really needed the drama that could come from me being seen with him. Before I could say anything else, the waitress came with our food and set ev
erything in front of us. I welcomed the distraction from further conversation.

  Ben didn’t take his eyes off me as I took the first bite of my taco. My teeth sank into it and I understood the second reason why he picked the place. The fluffy tortilla melted in my mouth and the beef had just enough seasoning for a spicy kick. These things were divine.

  “I told you,” Ben said as he took a great big bite of taco.

  I covered my hand with my mouth and nodded. “Gawd,” I said, though it was muffled behind the food.

  “Have I lied to you yet, Charlotte?”

  I swallowed my food and folded my arms in front of me. He didn’t come out and say it, but I couldn’t help but sense an implication. “But I lied to you.”

  Ben arched a dark brow and tore into his second taco. God, I even loved watching him eat. This man seemed to do everything with unabashed gusto, whether it was eating or fucking. My cheeks flamed as I thought about our night together. I couldn’t help watching his full lips as he licked them and wiped his hands on his napkin.

  “What? By not telling me who you were? It’s not like I asked you.” He reached forward and grabbed his water. Those beautiful, strong hands of his were something I noticed first on the night we met. I assumed he made his living with them and in a way he did. A hollow pit formed in my stomach as I thought about how. A cop’s hands were everything to him. He had to be quick, sure, and strong with them and it meant the difference between life and death. Those were the reasons and about six more that should have made me pay the check and say goodbye. I’d had a front-row seat to the kind of devastation Ben’s lifestyle could have on whoever was left behind to worry.

  “I’m embarrassed,” I said. I leaned forward and rested my arms on the table. I watched a fat water droplet cut a path through the condensation on my glass. For some reason, I didn’t want to meet Ben’s eyes.

  “Why?” He was watching me with that laser focus cops had. Always assessing, never quite trusting. I was an idiot. All the signs were there the other night if I’d bothered to look. I should have picked up on what he did for a living.

  “Well, I think maybe you have the wrong impression of the kind of person I am.”

  “Hmm. Do you worry a lot about what other people think of you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Ben laughed. Scratching his nose with the end of his finger he crossed his arms and looked toward the door. “Right now I’m pretty much only concerned with what you think of me.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. He was cute. Dammit. Somehow, he managed to have both a rugged, cut look mixed with something boyish. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he had a lost-boy vibe that set my blood on simmer. It was the way he looked at me with questioning eyes and just a hint of worry. I believed he really was worried about what I thought of him.

  “What if I told you I haven’t thought about you much at all?” I took a slow sip of water and somehow managed to keep my fingers from trembling.

  He chewed his lip and regarded me. Then his face broke into that devilish smile that got me into trouble in the first place.

  “Marek,” he said. “What is that, Czech?”

  I shook my head. “Polish. Third generation. My dad’s grandparents came from just outside of Krakow in the twenties. He’s fluent, you know. For my part, I just know random swear words and a very inappropriate song about a dairy cow that my grandfather taught me and lied swearing it just meant happy birthday.”

  “Outstanding.” Ben’s eyes twinkled with mirth and the set of his shoulders dropped. It occurred to me he might have been just as nervous as I was.

  “So, Killian,” I said. “Let me guess. Your dad was a cop, probably your grandfather too?”

  Ben raised his chin and something mischievous danced behind his startling blue eyes. “Am I that easy to read?”

  It was a challenge. I leaned back in my chair and let my gaze fall hard on him. God, all the signs had been there the other night. I’d just been too keyed up with lust to read any of them. Though he’d relaxed a bit, he still had tension running through his back and sat with his legs spread wide. It probably happened on an unconscious level, but his eyes traveled to the front door and back toward the kitchen on a regular basis. It was this exact kind of thing that drove my mother crazy about my dad. He could never relax. He was always looking for where the danger might come.

  “Irish Catholic cop in a small, Midwestern town. You probably have, what, six or seven siblings?”

  Ben laughed. “Four.”

  “Ah. So five of you altogether. All local, I’m guessing.”

  He cocked his head. “Not bad.”

  “Sisters? Brothers?”

  Ben held up his right hand and spread his fingers wide. He answered using a thick, credible Irish brogue. “Margaret Killian brought five strapping sons into the world to serve the Lord.”

  “Wow! You the only cop in the bunch?”

  Ben nodded. “We hit all the boxes.”

  I tapped my finger on my chin. “Let’s see. You’re the cop. I’m guessing there’s a fireman in there somewhere then?”

  Ben touched his index finger to his nose then pointed it straight at me.

  “Oh, I’m red hot. What else?”

  “Well, someone had to run the family business, after all.”

  “Family business. A bar? Please don’t tell me. It’s too perfect.”

  Ben’s face cracked into a wide smile. “And you were doing so well. We’re far less colorful than that. Killian’s Nursery & Landscaping. In the winter we do snow removal out in the suburbs. My oldest brother, Joey, runs it. After him is Ian, or rather, Father Ian.”

  I mouthed “wow” and let out a breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Margaret Killian’s second son is a priest? It’s so good.”

  “He was the most foul-mouthed out of all of us. Ian spent more time in detention than he did in homeroom at Lincolnshire High. Still has that potty mouth, come to think. Mom always said Ian was either bound for the penitentiary or the seminary. She knew there’d be no middle ground.”

  I couldn’t help it, deep laughter shook me from my core. Ben’s shining eyes melted me. “So who’s next, the fireman?”

  “Yep. That’s Patrick. Though he’s a county over so thankfully we don’t cross paths too much. Then there’s the star of the family, my brother Michael.”

  “Of course. A politician maybe? City councilman?”

  “Oooh,” Ben hissed. “Quit while you’re ahead. Nope. Mike’s a plumber.”

  I slapped my hands to the table, making our waters slosh. “Even better!”

  “I always say, the best part of living in Lincolnshire is I’ve got my entire family within a five-mile radius.”

  “And the worst part?”

  That infectious smile didn’t leave Ben’s face. We answered in unison. “I’ve got my entire family within a five-mile radius.”

  “So you’re the baby of the family?” I asked. I’d finished the last of my tacos. Ben eyed my plate and nodded, impressed. I had a moment of self-consciousness thinking maybe I shouldn’t have wolfed them down so quickly, but I couldn’t help it. They really were that good.

  “I’m the screw-up,” he answered.

  Laughing, I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin then set in on the table. “Even worse than Father Ian the Potty-Mouth?”

  “Oh, no comparison.”

  “Mmm. Let’s see. What are you, thirty-three? Thirty-four?”

  “Thirty-two,” he answered while jostling the ice at the bottom of his glass. I watched as the strong muscles of his jaw worked and he downed the last of the liquid. The ice was no match for the heat of his luscious mouth and my senses went into overdrive as I watched him.

  “The thirty-two-year-old bachelor son, huh?” The minute I said it, a stab of fear went through me. The bachelor bit was an assumption on my part and if I was wrong, God, that added a whole new layer of trouble to this conversation. But Ben nodded and my heart dropped back down to the center of m
y chest.

  “I imagine Mama Margaret has tried to fix you up with every Catholic girl in town then, right?”

  Ben’s shoulders went stiff again and a bit of the light went out of his eyes. My mouth dropped open and I wished I could swallow my words.

  “I imagine she would be. She’s not around anymore.”

  I could tell from the new darkness in his eyes that he didn’t mean she’d merely left town. He tried to cover, but a line of pain creased his brow. He smiled over it, just as quickly, but I didn’t need to read his mind to understand my question stirred up old grief. Oh, Ben Killian was a lost boy indeed. My need to take that hurt out of his eyes stirred to almost desperate levels.

  “Reckless Ben, the bachelor son.” When Ben looked up, his smile came back. Teasing him was entirely too much fun.

  “Reckless?”

  “Oh, for sure. I know your type.”

  He sat back in his chair. The waitress came back to clear our plates. He waved me off when I reached for my purse. He gave the girl a twenty-dollar bill and told her to keep it. She gave him a breathless thank you and a stab of jealousy went through me. But Ben’s eyes were straight on me. He smiled and egged me on.

  “My type?”

  I couldn’t hold back my light laughter. “Oh yeah. What’d you do, join the force straight out of college? I’m guessing you weren’t a patrolman very long. Did you go straight into SWAT or did you do something really crazy like vice or something first?”

  Ben’s soundless laughter shook his whole body. I’d apparently hit the nail squarely on the head. I was on a roll so I kept going.

  “So it was vice first. I thought so. Strike Team, huh? I’m guessing that’s a hell of a lot less glamorous than it sounds. And probably more dangerous than vice, but I’m sure you tell your family the opposite. How am I doing?”

  Ben shook his head. “Uncanny.”

  “Right. Oh yeah. You have a type, my friend. Danger junkie. Full speed, all day long.”

  He leaned in close and his eyes flashed. “All night too, sweetheart.”