In the Line of Duty (First Responders 2)

Jake reached out and gripped her vest, deftly unzipped it and shoved it off her shoulders, then unclipped her belt. She felt oddly light without both and watched, fascinated, as he took them and laid them carefully over a nearby chair. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had come looking for him, for the simple reason that she thought he might understand. He’d been on several deployments. She knew without asking that he’d seen things. Done things. Especially after the haunted look in his eyes when they’d returned from the beach. Jake had his share of dark secrets.

“Jake…I know you have to get back to work. It’s okay. Really. I’ll be fine now.” She wasn’t convinced, but what kind of officer she would be if she fell apart every time there was a bad call? She was used to the fact that life wasn’t always pretty and perfect. And she was already feeling much better.

“Shhh.” He came back to the sofa and sat down. “The bar can run without me. Besides, it’s slow tonight.” He stretched his arm along the back of the couch. “Come here, Kendra.”

She slid over and curled up in the crook of his arm. He was warm and strong, and she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

“It’s not easy, is it?” he murmured in her ear. “You can do your job day in and day out and it’s okay. You get used to the daily routine. And then something happens, like tonight. Someone gets hurt or dies and something snaps inside you. You’re not prepared. You think you are, but you’re not. And it’s hard to be alone when you’re afraid you’re going to implode. And hard to be with other people because you can’t deal and need to be alone.”

That was it exactly, and Kendra nodded against his shirt. The soft cotton smelled like fabric softener and deodorant and the scent that was uniquely Jake, a wonderfully masculine combination. She wondered again what he’d seen—and done—in Afghanistan. If those things had marked him for life. If you ever got over the rough stuff or if it was something that stayed with you forever.

She looked up at him. His arm was still around her but his eyes held a faraway look. He did know what he was talking about then. “When was it for you?”

His eyes cleared and he looked down at her. “When was what?”

She slid her arm around his ribs, feeling the hard flesh there, warm and solid and comforting. “That moment. Is it why you left the military? Why you started drinking?”

The muscles under her fingertips tensed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She frowned. Was it still that bad for him then? She recalled the night she’d arrested him. He’d taunted her then, said something about taking on the big, bad soldier. There’d been an energy about him that had set her on edge. He’d been dangerous not because he was particularly violent but because he was a wild card.

In some ways he still was. And a girl like her—a rule follower—would do better to leave well enough alone.

But she couldn’t seem to find the will to leave, and she couldn’t force him to talk about it. How would she feel if he pried into her past and all her motivations? Instead she just held him tighter, rested her cheek on his chest and whispered, “Okay.”

Her quiet acquiescence seemed to be the key that unlocked him. Bit by bit, he relaxed under her hands. Little by little, she snuggled closer, closer until they were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa. She shifted so she was on his lap, facing him with her arm tucked beneath her against his hard chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a note of humor warming his voice.

“Snuggling.”

“Kendra…” There was a soft note of warning, but that in itself was seductive.

“If neither of us wants to talk, can’t we just be alone together? I don’t want to go home yet. I need the company. I need you, Jake. You’re so warm. You’re so alive.”

He sighed. “You still have your shoes on.”

She smiled against his shirt. “So I do.”

There was a pause where something indefinable seemed to hang in the balance. Then Jake’s fingers began unlacing her shoes, and she kicked them off with her toes. They hit the floor with a solid thud.

“Not exactly dainty slippers, are they?” she murmured, smiling. Considering her state of mind when she’d arrived, smiling felt damn near like a miracle.

“No. Gotta say though, the uniform’s kinda hot. I’ve always thought so. Something about a woman in authority.”

Heat rose into her cheeks. “You weren’t exactly clearheaded when I last exerted my authority.”

“No,” he answered, “I wasn’t. I was a mess, like you were tonight. Only I’d been that way for months. I wasn?

??t coping. I pretended everything was great. I drank a lot to forget all the ways I’d failed.”

“I’m sure you didn’t fail, Jake.” The summer evening was melting into twilight and the light coming through the windows was faded and weak.

“Oh, I did. And you know as well as I do, Kendra. When people like me fail, other people die.”

Chapter Six