“We should get together for lunch and catch up.” Morgan looked up at Brady. “When we don’t have an armed deputy standing over us.”
“Who, Brady?” Darcie chuckled as she secured the gauze bandage. “He’s so laid-back, I sometimes forget that he’s this intense sniper guy.”
“Come on, Darcie.” He mocked a knife to the chest and grinned. “Don’t hurt my cred like this.”
He fixed a genuine, easygoing smile on Morgan, softening the hard, angular lines of his face. Making him even more handsome and difficult to look away from. She shouldn’t be noticing. Should be looking anywhere except at him, but he was like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
One minute he was easygoing, the next intense and fierce. Both attractive. Both needed to be avoided. If she was going to get her life back on firm footing after her recent move and job change, she had no time for romance.
“So,” she said to Darcie. “Am I cleared to go?”
Darcie sat back and started packing up her case. “My official response is that you should have your arm checked out at the hospital.”
“And unofficially?”
“Put some antibiotic cream on the wound. Keep it bandaged and change it once a day. If it doesn’t heal or becomes red, puffy or painful see a doctor.”
“I’ll take the unofficial advice so I can get out of here.”
“Sorry, friend.” Darcie squeezed Morgan’s knee. “You’ll have to stay to give your statement and answer questions. Brady will escort you back to the command post.”
“She’s right,” he said coming to full attention. “The detectives will want to talk to you.”
Right. She’d have to relive the experience, play by play, all over again.
She supposed it would be better to do so here with people surrounding her than at home alone. That would come later, she knew. Much later. When she had nothing to distract her.
No handsome guy. No old friend. No pretense of a smile. Not even the shock, which would have worn off by then.
She’d be alone in her new apartment. In the dark. Recounting each terrifying second of the ordeal and trying hard to remember why she’d so desperately wanted to stand on her own two feet.
Wind whistled through the FRS truck, but at least the snow had let up. Brady wanted to head home, sit in front of a roaring fire and have time alone to process the night. He’d pull out the small chunks of wood he’d cut to carve into ornaments for the FRS team and whittle long strips into the flames. But first, he had to help the team button down the specialty truck. Then they would meet to debrief and wind down in the communal living space of a remodeled historic firehouse where they all lived in private condos on the upper floors.
Brady was required to attend the debrief, but then he’d go straight to his condo. After a shooting, even one that hadn’t ended in the loss of a life, he liked to decompress on his own. The sooner the better. And that meant getting the truck loaded so they could all get home.
He stowed his rifle case in a bench seat midway in the truck and turned to find Darcie watching him. He suspected she wanted to ask about the graze on Morgan’s arm. Darcie couldn’t prove the injury had come from Brady’s rifle, no one could, but the thickness of the wound was a good indicator that he’d been the one to shoot Morgan.
“What?” he asked, when he couldn’t stand her eyes on him any longer.
She continued to watch him as a mother might watch a wayward child. “I have a favor to ask.”
He wasn’t in any frame of mind to do her favor, but he would hear her out. “Okay.”
“Can you hang around and escort Morgan home? She lives a few blocks away, and I don’t want her walking home alone after this.”
He let out a breath and almost offered a quick yes. After all, Morgan was a real beauty. And tough. But there was also something vulnerable about her. He’d seen it when he’d left her with the detectives. Like she needed him. Not just now, but long term.
Too bad. He wasn’t in a position to be needed by any woman. And especially not a woman who was all wrong for him. She was a lawyer, for Pete’s sake. Dressed in an expensive coat and suit. Shoes and purse that screamed designer. A last name that everyone in town knew from her father’s involvement in the business world.
No, a guy from the wrong side of the tracks didn’t need the heartache that would come with such a relationship.
He closed the bench and looked at Darcie. “I’m sure the detectives will give her a ride.”
“You’re right. They will, especially if there might be someone else out to get her.” Darcie shivered.
“The detectives can protect her.”
“I know that, too, but I’m concerned for more than her physical safety. She and I go way back, and I want to make sure she’s okay. You know...really okay. That she’s not going to freak out when she steps inside her apartment, closes the door and thoughts of the gun-wielding creep take over—which we both know could happen. You’re good at reading people. You’ll be able to tell if she shouldn’t be left alone.”
“So are you. Why not go with her yourself?”
“A, I may carry a weapon because I’d never hear the end of it from you guys if I didn’t, but I’m not skilled at protecting someone. And B, I’m on duty in an hour. You’re not.” She watched him carefully, her motherly concern still evident on her face. She’d lost her only child four years ago, but instead of the loss leaving her cold it had caused her to transfer her motherly devotion to the people around her—especially her team members. “You’re usually one of the first guys to step up and help someone. What’s different with Morgan?”
He wasn’t about to admit that Morgan’s vulnerability made him wary of getting too close to her. She needed someone. He got that. It just couldn’t be him. Not now, when he was struggling to do his job. And not with a woman like Morgan. He’d learned his lesson in high school about mixing with a girl out of his league and wouldn’t repeat that mistake.
“Okay, then. Maybe Archer can do it.” Darcie started to walk away.
She only had to take two steps before he felt like a real heel. “Wait, Darcie. I’ll do it.”
She smiled her thanks and it wasn’t hard to see she’d known he’d cave. All the guys on the team believed in defending the downtrodden, so her assumption wasn’t a stretch, but it still irked him. “I’ll go tell Jake.”
“No need. I already told him.” She smiled.
“You were that certain I’d do it, huh?”
“I’m certain that you’re a good man, Brady Owens, and you’d never let a woman who’d been through a terrifying standoff walk home alone.”
He wrapped Darcie under his arm and knuckled her head. “And you, my friend, are a master manipulator.”
“Guilty.” She grinned up at him as she freed herself. “I’ll go say goodbye to Morgan and tell her you’ll escort her home. Call me if she needs anything.”
Brady took his time packing up his vest and helping the other team members, but soon there was nothing left to do so he climbed down from the truck. He watched the team drive off, then went to the command post.
Morgan sat in a metal folding chair, her hands clasped in her lap, her body shivering in the biting wind. Detective Rossi, a thick and pudgy man with a wild