Читать книгу Swat Standoff - Lena Diaz - Страница 12
ОглавлениеWhere was Blake, and was he okay? Those two questions had been worrying Donna all evening, ever since she’d left him standing in the rain, yelling after her.
She sat in her recliner, her legs tucked underneath her, while she cradled a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. It wasn’t that the house was cold. Outside, it was only mildly chilly, and then only when the winds blew down from the nearby mountains. But she didn’t need cold weather as an excuse to have hot chocolate. It was her poison of choice when she needed soothing.
Tonight, she definitely needed soothing.
Across the room, the TV screen hung over the fireplace, dark and quiet. Typically, unless her mom or one of her mom’s well-meaning klatch of friends had set her up on yet another disastrous blind date, she would spend Saturday nights binge-watching recorded cop shows. The ones with the fake forensics and technology were the most entertaining. Where an investigator could search a single database and come up with a person’s entire life history in seconds—like what books that person had checked out of the library in kindergarten and never returned. Nothing could make her laugh harder than their implausible, ridiculous storylines. But tonight, instead, she stared at the set of keys on the coffee table. Blake’s keys.
And she wasn’t laughing.
Guilt was riding her hard. Not for taking his keys. She’d probably saved his life, or someone else’s, by not letting him drive. But she shouldn’t have left him in that parking lot with no way home. She should have argued with him until he agreed to get in her car. She could have taken him back later—once he was sober—to get his truck.
Where was he now? What was he doing? She had absolutely no clue. When she left him, she’d driven away for all of fifteen minutes before guilt had sent her back to that rancid-smelling bar. But even though his black pickup was still sitting in the gravel right where she’d left it, Blake wasn’t.
The bartender had only shrugged when she asked him where Blake had gone. She suspected he knew the answer. But he had no inclination to tell her. Four hours later, with the clock edging close to midnight, Blake still hadn’t responded to any of her calls or texts.
Not that she could blame him.
If he’d left her in that parking lot, she’d be furious. For days. Maybe longer. Mama always said her temper ran hotter than a busted radiator and cooled just as slowly.
She let out a heavy sigh and set her still-full cup on the side table. There was no use delaying the inevitable any longer. No amount of chocolate or silly cop shows were going to make her relax. And there was no point in trying to sleep. How could she even try to close her eyes when he could be lying hurt somewhere, maybe passed out in a ditch?
That lovely image had crossed her mind so many times that she’d called the emergency room in Maryville to see if he’d been brought in. The state police and the dispatch operators for both Blount and Sevier Counties had no reports on him either. She should have been relieved. Instead, she was more worried than ever. It was as if he’d vanished.
Okay—that was it. She absolutely couldn’t sit here any longer, waiting for a call that was never going to come. She would have to head back out and find him herself. Again. And this time, she wasn’t leaving until he was safe and sound at home.
After retrieving her holster and pistol from the floor beside her chair, she went into her bedroom to change out of her nightshirt. A few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a simple button-up blouse, she headed toward the front door.
A loud knock had her whipping out her pistol and flattening herself against the wall beside the door. Her pulse rushed in her ears. Who would be pounding on her door this late? Or even at all? Saying that she lived in the boonies was an understatement. Visitors willing to drive out this far from town, this far from anything, were extremely rare. Even her own family was loath to make the trip and bounce down the pothole-filled street in front of her house. Donna was the one who usually made the long trek to see them instead.
The knock sounded again. “Donna?” Blake’s deep voice bellowed. “I know you’re up. I saw you through the front window.”
Blake. He was okay. Thank God. Her shoulders dropped, the tension draining out of her as she holstered her gun and reached for the dead bolt. Then his words sank in. She hesitated, without opening the door. “Why were you peeping in my window?”
“I wasn’t peeping.”
She could practically hear him roll his eyes.
“Your lights are on, and the blinds are open,” he continued. “I could see you from halfway down that death trap out front that you call a road. The suspension on my truck is probably shot now. What’d you do? Tick the mayor off, and now he won’t send the city out to maintain your street?”
She flipped the dead bolt and pulled open the door. “Actually, it’s his wife. She sped through a school zone, so I radioed for a patrol unit and followed her to city hall. She didn’t appreciate me detaining her until the uniformed officer got there. And she especially didn’t like the two-hundred-fifty-dollar ticket.”
His brows rose as he stepped inside. “Did you know who she was when you saw her speeding?”
“Yep. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have bothered if she’d blown by me out on the highway. It’s not like we have enough traffic around here to worry about her causing an accident. But she could have run someone’s kid over. That’s an unforgivable sin in my book. So if the price of making her stop and think next time is a bumpy ride home every day, I’ll pay it.” She winced. “But I do need to get a four-wheel drive if this vendetta goes on much longer. My little SUV isn’t designed for that kind of punishment. It’s already starting to rattle, and it’s only a few years old.”
He smiled. “I didn’t know you had a soft spot for kids. Why haven’t I heard this story before?”
She cocked her head. “Why haven’t you ever visited my house before? And why haven’t you invited me to yours? We’re partners. We should kick back together after work sometimes, or on weekends.”
His smile faded. “The answer to those questions are irrelevant, since I’m not a cop anymore.”
She shook her head. “Once a cop, always a cop. And as far as I’m concerned, this current situation with Dillon is temporary.”
“That’s actually why I’m here. Partly, anyway.” He waved toward the two leather couches and recliner a few feet away. “Mind if we talk for a few minutes? Or is the open door an unsubtle social signal that I should leave?”
She blinked, surprised to realize that she was still holding on to the doorknob. “Sorry. Go on, have a seat.” She shut the door behind him and followed him into the part of the house that functioned as a family room.
He perched on the edge of one of the two couches, resting his forearms on his thighs with his hands clasped together. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so unsure of himself. His confidence in everything that he did was one of the things that had always bugged Dillon, because he took it as arrogance. He expected the new guy to show more humility and work harder to fit in. Until Blake’s little speech in the parking lot earlier, she’d thought pretty much the same thing. Now she wasn’t sure what she thought.
“Nice place,” he said as she sat beside him on the couch. “It looks a lot bigger inside than it does from the outside.”
“It’s the vaulted ceiling and the open concept. My dad helped me with the remodel. Took a couple of years. That was a long time ago, though. It’s about ready for another update—new lights, new plumbing fixtures. The floors could use refinishing. But I don’t have the free time I used to, before I added part-time SWAT officer to my full-time detective duties.”
“You and your dad did all the work?”
“Most of it. We rooked my three sisters’ husbands into helping with the heavy lifting. But for the most part, it was me and Dad. With Mom supervising, of course. She’s a worse back seat renovator than any back seat driver.” She waved toward the kitchen, which was separated from the rest of the room by a butcher block island. “You want a beer or something?”
His brows arched again. “I think we both know I had more than my quota of alcohol earlier today. But thanks.”
“Right.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans, hating the awkwardness that had settled between them. “I see you have your—”
“I wanted to ask you—”
They both stopped and smiled.
He waved at her. “You first.”
She cleared her throat. “I was just going to ask how you got here. Since I, um, have your keys.”
“My neighbor. I called him and he was just a few miles away, running an errand. We both have spare sets of each other’s keys in case we lock ourselves out of our homes or cars. He and his son picked me up at the bar. His son drove my truck home while I slept off the liquor. In case you were wondering how I got my truck back.”
“I tried to call—”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the glass before turning it around. “I noticed.”
The home screen showed fifteen missed calls.
Her face flamed hot. “Are all of those from me?”
“Every one.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize I’d been that big a pest.”
“You texted even more than you called.” He smiled and put the phone away. “I came over here for a couple of reasons. The first was to apologize.”
She frowned. “What would you apologize for? I’m the one who left you stranded, in the rain, at a horrible, smelly bar. In my defense, I did eventually turn around and go back. But you were gone.”
“Yeah, this is the part where I have to admit that I hid in the men’s room when you came back into the bar looking for me. Not one of my prouder moments. But I was still angry and didn’t want to talk to you.”
“I knew that snake-tattooed bartender was lying. Well, at least you’re okay. And you didn’t end up with your truck in a ditch somewhere.”
His jaw tightened. “Believe it or not, I’m not the bad guy everyone seems to think I am. And unlike the mayor’s wife, I care about the other people out on the road. I would never drink and drive, in spite of how I acted earlier. The fact that you thought I would only contributed to my foul mood, so I didn’t bother to tell you that all I was going to do was lie down in my truck and sleep it off.”
“Blake, I didn’t mean that the way it—”
He held up his hand again. “Please, let me get all this out before you think I’m blaming you for my own actions. I’m not. I was a jerk to you today. You were worried about me.” He patted his pocket where he’d put his cell phone. “Obviously. And I didn’t have the decency to answer even one of your calls or texts to let you know that I was okay. I’m really sorry, Donna. And even though I’d argue it wasn’t necessary to take my keys, and it wasn’t fun being left standing in the rain, it was a wake-up call. The whole day was a wake-up call, in a lot of ways. I hope you can accept my deepest, heartfelt apology. Can you forgive me?”
He startled her by taking one of her hands between his, while he watched her and waited for her reply. She swallowed hard, trying to remember what he’d even said. It was hard to focus when his large, warm hands held hers and he was staring at her with such intensity.
The man had definitely missed his calling. Instead of law enforcement, he should have been a sexy leading man in Hollywood, making all the women swoon and throw themselves at his feet. All it would take was one look from those intense, dark blue eyes to make the rest of the world fade away. She didn’t think he’d ever looked at her this way before. It was doing funny things to her belly, and her pulse was racing so fast, it was a wonder he didn’t say something about it.
He’d showered recently. His short, nearly black hair was still damp. And he was wearing fresh clothes—jeans, boots and a blue pullover shirt that made his eyes look an even darker blue than usual.
Not that any of that mattered.
She shouldn’t care how gorgeous he looked, or how incredibly wonderful his warm skin felt against hers. But he’d never focused the full force of his attention on her before, not like this, as if the only thing that mattered in the world was her.
“Donna? Help me out here. I have no idea what that sharp mind of yours is thinking right now. Are you about to forgive me, or should I run for my truck before you pull out your gun?” His mouth quirked up in a half grin that had her toes curling against the floor.
Good grief, what was wrong with her? She was obviously more tired than she’d thought. And the day’s events had made her emotions raw. Blake the police officer she could handle. Blake the sexy, nice, attentive man sitting across from her—holding her hand—was draining her IQ points by the second. If she didn’t do something fast, she’d start stuttering and batting her eyelashes at him. Or worse, lunge across the couch and find out once and for all if he was the excellent kisser that she’d always fantasized that he would be.
His brows crinkled with concern. “Donna? Are you okay? You look flushed.” He reached toward her face as if to check her for a fever.
She jerked back and yanked her hand free. Popping up from the couch, she said the first thing that flashed into her mind. “I have to pee.”
His eyes widened.
She groaned and sprinted from the room.
* * *
WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED? Blake stared at the empty spot on the couch beside him where Donna had been sitting just seconds earlier. Obviously he’d upset her, or she wouldn’t have run out of the room like that. But other than an apology, he couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to make things worse.
He blew out a frustrated breath and stood. He was too agitated to keep sitting on the couch, so he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Now that he’d delivered his pathetic apology, with disastrous results, he wasn’t even sure whether he should hang around to tell her the other reason that he was here. After all, there were dozens of explanations for his concerns—all of which seemed valid and far more likely than the insane scenario that kept running through his head. Maybe he should have started with the scenario and skipped the apology part. But he’d been worried that she’d be too angry to listen if he didn’t smooth things over first.
A lot of good that had done.
He checked his watch. Thirty minutes to midnight on a Saturday. This was silly. He should just go home and try to sleep off the aftereffects of a very nasty hangover that was already making his head pound in spite of the aspirin he’d taken. Everything was bound to look different in the morning. His concerns would be proven false, and everyone would go about their lives like normal.
Except for him.
Nothing had been normal in his life for a very long time.
“Blake.”
He turned to see Donna standing by the recliner, her brow lined with worry. He cleared his throat and stepped over to her. “Whatever I did, if my apology somehow offended you, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“What? No, no. You did nothing wrong. It was just...” She shook her head. “Forget it. It was something stupid. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Then we’re good? You’re not upset with me?”
“I’m upset that you got yourself fired. And I’ll be really upset if you don’t try to talk to Dillon to get your job back. Maybe if you just apologize to him, explain your side—”
“That’s why I’m here. I mean, other than trying to fix things between you and me. I came here because I did try to contact Dillon. I wanted to meet with him, just the two of us, and talk this thing out.”
“Oh, well, that’s great. We’re supposed to go back to Hawkins Ridge for another exercise in the morning, around nine. Maybe you could go up there and talk to him then, while the rest of us are getting everything set up.” She frowned. “Why are you giving me a funny look? What’s wrong?”
“It could be nothing.”
“Tell me.”
Lightning flashed off in the distance, illuminating the front windows. A distant boom of thunder followed. And still, he couldn’t seem to force the words out. The longer he stood there, the more he felt like he’d jumped the gun. The whiskey and his hangover were dulling his brain, not to mention the lateness of the hour.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Forget it. It’s stupid. I’ll do what you said, try to catch Dillon in the morning before your training session. Sorry I bothered you so late.” He circled around her and headed for the door. He’d just flipped the dead bolt and was reaching for the doorknob when she grabbed it instead. He looked at her in question.
“You’re not leaving yet. Something bothered you enough to come over here close to midnight to talk to me. It wasn’t just to tell me you were sorry. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He dropped his hand and shook his head. “Forget it. I’m sure it’s just the storm interfering with signals. Or maybe they’re all too ticked at me to answer. I ignored dozens of texts and calls from you, and it didn’t mean I needed help.”
“Blake, if you don’t start making sense, I swear I’m going to shoot you.”
By the irritated look on her face, he didn’t doubt that she would. He let out a deep breath and prepared himself for her laughter. “Dillon’s missing.”
She blinked. Then blinked again.
“See?” he said. “Told you it was stupid. It’s nonsense. I went off half-cocked and still half-drunk and imagined all sorts of crazy things. I’m sure he’s fine.” He reached for the doorknob, motioning for her to move her hand.
She suddenly stood on her tiptoes, leaned in close and sniffed.
He jerked back. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing if I can smell whiskey on your breath.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t touched a drop since you left me at the bar.”
“And yet you said that Dillon’s missing. What does that mean?”
The smile hovering on her lips had him feeling even more ridiculous. “I wanted to talk to him, like I said. So as soon as I sobered up, I called, both cell phone and radio. He didn’t answer.”
She shrugged. “Why would he? He fired you. I doubt he ever wants to talk to you again. Which is why you need to go see him in person—”
“I did. I went to his horse ranch. He wasn’t there. Neither was his wife and daughter. The guy who oversees the operations—”
“Griffin.”
He nodded. “Griffin. He said Mrs. Gray and her daughter had gone off on some cruise. But he didn’t know where Dillon was. He figured he was still in the woods, conducting training exercises.”
“What time was this?”
“Close to nine, I imagine.”
She glanced past him, probably to the wall clock that he’d noticed over the TV earlier. “It’s way too late to try calling him again. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Dillon’s one of the most capable men I know. He—”
“I called Randy, too.”
“Okay. What did he say about Dillon?”
“Nothing. Randy didn’t answer his phone either.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s not like him. Even if he was upset, which is a rare thing for him, he wouldn’t have ignored your call.”
“That was my thought, too. So I called Max. Then Chris. I even tried the chief, on his home phone. No one answered any of my calls. I would have at least expected the chief’s wife to answer.”
She shook her head. “She’s on the cruise with Ashley. All the team’s wives went—Dillon’s wife, Ashley, and their baby, the chief’s wife, Claire, Max’s wife, Bex, and Chris’s wife, Julie. It’s a law-enforcement family cruise some charity put together, a getaway for the families who do so much to support their law-enforcement loved ones. That’s how it was advertised, anyway. That’s why Dillon scheduled the training this weekend. I could have sworn you knew all this. Scenic Cruises? Out of Miami? It was organized by some charity group out of Knoxville. I’m sure Dillon mentioned it.”
“I’m sure he mentions lots of things to you. He and I rarely speak unless he’s ordering me around or telling me I screwed up.” He waved his hand in the air. “Forget it. That’s not the point. I tried calling all of them tonight. No one answered. It’s highly likely that they’re ignoring me because of what happened today, and I overreacted. But I couldn’t ignore it without letting you know. Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
He fisted his hands at his sides, feeling like an idiot. But he’d gone this far. He might as well go all in. “In case the entire SWAT team was abducted. Minus you and me, of course.”
She blinked again. Then she started laughing.
He endured her laughter for a full minute. He couldn’t take more than that. He brushed her hand off the doorknob and yanked open the door.
“Blake, wait. I’m sorry. Please don’t go. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. But you know cell service around here is awful. Your calls probably didn’t even go through.”
Since her voice was still laced with laughter, he didn’t bother to reply. He strode out of the house and took the porch steps two at a time.
“Blake?”
He hopped into his truck and took off down the road, punching the gas to give free rein to his sour mood and temper. That was when he hit the first huge pothole. The front right tire slammed into the hole, and the entire truck lurched at a sickening angle before the tire popped out again. He cursed and was forced to slow to a near crawl. It took him a good ten minutes just to reach the end of the street-from-hell.
A flash of white zoomed at him from the left. He jerked around to see Donna’s white Ford Escape barreling onto the road from an overgrown field. He swore and slammed his brakes, skidding and coming to a bouncing halt just a few feet from her driver’s side door.
She stopped too, her face looking pale and drawn as she stared at him through her driver’s side window, illuminated by his headlights. Before he could even unbuckle his seat belt, she was out of her SUV and running to his passenger door. He pushed the button to roll down the window.
“What the hell was that for?” he demanded. “You almost made me run right into you.”
“I called them,” she said. “The whole team. No one answered. I sent a group text. Nothing.” She swallowed, looking visibly shaken. “I even tried the radio. All I got was static. It’s not raining anymore. We can’t blame the storm now. I can see them not answering your calls. But they wouldn’t worry me like this. My God, Blake. What’s going on?”
He popped open the passenger door. “Get in.”
