Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

The oxygen jumped from my lungs, and my chest heaved at the outward affection, knees wobbling with the way he was lookin’ at me.

And I knew right then that I was in so much trouble.

Taking my discomfort all wrong, or maybe he’d gotten it exactly right, Dr. Nelson set his hand on the small of my back. “We should go inside.”

I nodded around the lump in my throat, and I let him open the door and guide me in, more than thankful for the blast of cold air on my face.

Anything to cool the burn.

God knew, I’d be a fool to stand in the flames.

Fourteen

Mack

I pressed the button to accept the call on Bluetooth in the Suburban. Didn’t even have the chance to say hello before Pete’s voice was coming at me through the speakers.

“You’re alive!”

He sang it like he was a cast member of some terrible Broadway show.

“Feel like death. Does that count?”

He laughed outright. “You were beat to shit, man. Have to be honest—you scared the piss out of me when I rolled up on the scene and you were flat out and facedown. Thought I might have lost you.”

“Apparently, Baren and Dominguez got there right as one of those pussies found themselves a nice steel rod. They’d have shown up a few seconds later, and it would have been lights out for me. Too bad the rats scattered before either of them had made it out of their cruiser.”

Regret tightened my throat like a noose.

What if yesterday on Izzy’s porch would have been my only chance? The one time I’d seen my son? His one memory of me splitting like a bitch?

Sickness clawed, and I forced it down, hands cinching on the steering wheel.

Instantly, I wished I hadn’t done that, either.

Truth was, every movement was brutal. Every inhale agony. Ribs burning like a motherfucker, and my skin feeling like I’d gotten up close and personal with a cheese grater.

Funny how I didn’t think I’d ever felt so alive.

The sensation of Izzy’s presence still wrapped me like an embrace.

I inhaled, and I could still smell her.

Closed my eyes, and I could still feel the tender caress of those fingers. Could still hear the soft cadence of her voice.

Girl had taken care of me like I was something that deserved to be cared for, same way as she always had. Filling me up when I was nothing. Maybe that was the reason I’d gotten greedy.

Just like I was feeling then.

Because I was dealing with another problem when I closed my eyes—I saw that pompous fucker wearing scrubs with his hand on her like he thought he had every right to put it there.

Took everything I’d had not to rip it clean from his body since it’d been clear he was staking some sort of claim. Figured that wouldn’t go over all that well. All I needed was a headline about a local detective going rogue and coming unglued on some poor, unsuspecting nurse or whatever the fuck that he was.

Except I was pretty sure the asshole would be expecting it.

Gauntlet thrown.

“How’d it go with Woods?” Pete asked, breaking me out of the haze of anger.

Unclenching my locked jaw, I somehow managed a grin. “You know she loves me.”

Could almost see the disbelieving smile crack his face. “You asshole. Don’t tell me you got off scot-free again.”

Wanted to roll my eyes. Again was a stretch. Sure, I’d gotten into a few situations that weren’t exactly protocol. But I toed the line the best that I could. Respected the rules and my sergeant.

“Seemed she couldn’t be too mad at me when she was looking at me beat to crap. Four to one. There was nothing else I could have done. Of course, she has me on the desk for four weeks so I can heal, and my ass is off the case.”

Not that I was going to just sit aside and let someone else take care of this bullshit. Still, I’d agreed like the good cop I did my best to be.

“Any idea why they jumped you? Why they found you?”

“Guess they thought it’d be good fun to kill a cop. Sport. Or maybe the prick was just pissed he had to pay the fine. Who fuckin’ knows.”

“Why’s it seem like people get more twisted every day?”

“Because they do,” I responded.

Though, I had to admit I wasn’t 100% sold on that idea. I’d seen enough depravity and cruelty as a kid to know that sort of sickness had been around for a long, long time.

“Remember the good old days when kids were fighting over drugs and turf?” he mused.

I let loose a short laugh. “Think you still have plenty of that to go around.”

“Seriously, though . . . these senseless crimes . . . don’t get it, man. It’s starting to wear.”