In the Line of Duty (First Responders 2)

She got off the stool and got halfway to the door before he made it through the pass-through and caught her by the arm.

“Take your hands off me,” she said in a low, threatening voice.

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, tightening his grip on her arm and pulling her toward the door.

Once they were outside, she spun around and shook off his hands. “How dare you! Don’t you ever manhandle me again! I could arrest you for assaulting a police officer!”

Her eyes blazed but there was something about her lips, something fragile and tenuous. Whatever it was, it was bad.

“What happened?”

Her lips pursed. “Never mind.” She bit out the words. “I should have known it was a mistake coming back here.”

“Bullshit. And you’re not driving anywhere, not like this. Come with me.”

“Jake, I—”

“For once in your goddamned life, Kendra, will you just do as you’re told?” Frustration took over. She was so stubborn. It was part of what made her tough. He understood that. But right now it was working against her. He couldn’t help her if he couldn’t get her out of her own head.

Her face paled. “Oh, shit,” he murmured as her eyes went glassy. He took her hand and tugged. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get you somewhere that you can sit down.”

And the bar wasn’t it. He led her around back to a stairwell leading to his apartment above the pub. It wouldn’t exactly be quiet with the music and voices downstairs, but it would be private.

The fact that she followed him as obediently as a lamb was almost as worrying as her belligerence.

Once inside, he shut the door and took her hands in his, chafing her fingers. They were cold and her face was still pale.

She looked into his eyes now, her gaze clear and earnest. “Can I have that drink now?”

He wondered exactly what tack to take next. She couldn’t do this. She’d regret it terribly, and he couldn’t be the one responsible for letting her break. And to tell her what to do…

Well, he knew exactly how well that would work. It wouldn’t. If he started barking orders, she’d do exactly the opposite just to spite him.

“Have a seat,” he said, nodding towards the bar stools that sat in front of his counter. He went to the cupboard and took out a shot glass and a bottle of Jack. It was half full, exactly where he’d left it months ago. Every now and again he took it out and looked at it, remembered and put it back. He could handle it. She couldn’t. Tonight it would be a sacrifice but one he was willing to make.

For her. Go figure.

Wordlessly, he put down the shot glass, poured. Then just as her fingers started to slide across the counter for it, he picked it up and tossed it back.

The liquor burned down the back of his throat, lighting a well-remembered fire clear to his belly. It wasn’t a bad sensation, but it wasn’t the salvation he’d come to expect from it either. He was grateful for that.

“Hey!” Kendra’s brows knit together. “What are you doing?”

“You can’t do this,” he stated calmly. “You will hate yourself if you do. It’ll destroy you.”

He poured another shot. Saluted her with the glass and drank it down in one swallow.

“Jake!” Her voice was distressed now and she ran a hand over her braid, making little pieces fray around her face. “Don’t do this. You can’t. Not after all you’ve…”

Tears filled her eyes and Jake hesitated. She was going to break soon, and he could handle one more easily. He’d handled far worse in his day, and while the warmth of the whiskey spread through his belly, his head was perfectly clear. He poured one more shot. Lifted it. Met her eyes. Drank it while holding her gaze. Put the glass back down on the counter.

“I can’t watch you do this to yourself,” she whispered, an edge of desperation in her voice. “Please, Jake. Please stop.”

He put his hand on the shot glass. He wasn’t going to pour anymore, but it wouldn’t hurt for her to wonder. “If you can’t bear to watch me, why on earth would you think that I would be able to watch you? Not just watch, but enable you by pouring it?”

“I just… It was so…”

“Tell me.”