Cast the Cards - Page 27

“I know. I just received a phone call… A case I’m working on has gotten … dangerous. They’re going to start driving by the house and keeping an eye out. I’d like you to be wary of any suspicious-looking people, cars, et cetera. ”

“What’s going on?” Her mother frowned.

“I’m not at liberty to say. This is more of a precautionary measure than anything else.”

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled. You stay safe out there.” Her Father always knew how to smooth ruffled feathers when it came to Mom.

“I will. I’m going to go get dressed. I need to be in the office.”She turned and headed for the stairs.

“What about breakfast?” Her mother called after her.

“I’ll grab bagels on the way out, I promise.”

A quick shower later and she was dressed in a pair of khaki pants, a light pink shirt, and a pair of brown boots. Her hair was slicked back from her face. She’d applied a light coat of make-up to hide her sleep-weary face. With her badge tucked into her belt and her gun on her hip, concealed by a blazer, she stomped down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen.

“See, Mom, I’m getting breakfast like I promised.” She cut a bagel in two, slathered it with strawberry cream cheese from the fridge, and poured a glass of orange juice into her travel cup.

“Mmhmm.” Her mother quirked an eyebrow but continued eating.

“I’ll see you guys later. Call me if you need anything.” She exchanged a meaningful look with her father. He’d be on the lookout for anything out of the normal, and his gun was in a safe by the bed. He wouldn’t hesitate to use it, if need be. The knowledge filled her with a sense of relief. He might be retired, but her father was still sharp as a tack, and a crack shot.

He kept up a relaxed, but steady workout regime accompanied with a biweekly trip to the shooting range. She knew her Mother was worried, though she’d never admit it. It was a part of having family members in a dangerous profession. You put on a good front to keep the worry from them so they could act with a clear mind. It took a toll. It was the price paid by those who loved someone with a calling to protect and serve.

She hooked the travel mug onto her satchel and took a bite of the round circle of bread. After snatching her keys from the counter, she exited the house. Ten minutes later she was in front of the police station finishing off her cup of orange juice. With one last gulp she grabbed her mug and exited the car. Long strides took her inside the building. Time seemed to slow as she waved to the receptionist and walked to the office she shared with Carey.

Everyone’s gaze followed her. This case had been the one that got away. They were all eager to solve it and avenge one of their own. She opened the door to her office. Carey sat at his desk, doing his best not to stare at the small, manila envelope.

“Thank God! I’ve been itching to open this thing all morning!” He pushed his chair back and swiveled to face her.

“What happened with that exactly?”

“They brought in the dogs to test if for explosives or hazardous items. It came out clean.”

“So I have the go-ahead?”

“Yep.”

“Good, let’s go get suited up.”

>

“Music to my ears!”

She laughed as she placed her bag onto the desk and removed a set of gloves to handle the package with.

***

After all the anticipation, the tiny, fur-covered object Vannah pulled from its yellow prison was anti-climatic. He wrinkled his brow.

“What the hell is that?” he asked with a snort. Greeted with quiet, he turned to look down at Vannah and his heart sank. Something was very wrong. The tongs shook where she held the tiny, brown, plush bear holding a heart. Her breathing was ragged, and her eyes were wide with dilated pupils.

“Vannah?”

“I won this for him … at the carnival.” Her voice was empty and monotone.

Fuck. She seemed glued to the spot, unable to move, as she clenched the tongs hard enough to turn her knuckles white. Her eyes glazed over, and he knew her mind was no longer in the present. Every time she turns around she’s forced to relive bit and pieces of her ordeal. But somehow to have an actual bit of history from that night was the cruelest twist the wheel of fate had delivered.

She took a deep breath, and her face crumpled like a wadded piece of paper. He wanted to look away, pretend he hadn’t seen the wounded woman beneath the hardnosed agent persona she embodied. Yet, he promised Clark. Old habits died hard.

Tags: Shyla Colt Romance
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