Edge of the Heat 3 (8 page)

Craig heard Jerry talking in the background, then Emma telling him what had happened, then Jerry swearing a blue streak and calling the California prison system a few choice names.

If Craig hadn’t been so scared, he would have laughed.

***

C
raig waited for Emma at the ambulance bay after her shift, leaning against the hood of his truck. When she walked out, he pulled her into a crushing embrace that was born from nothing but love and fear, but soon stirred his passion.

“Why you gotta be so beautiful?” he asked her, burying his hands in her hair and nuzzling her neck, her midsection pressing deliciously against his growing length.

Emma laughed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. I’ll live.” He pulled her hair just a little bit in that way he knew she liked and kissed her neck one more time before he pushed her gently off of him and motioned for her to get in the truck.

“So what happened?” she asked, once they were driving.

Craig relayed everything he had been told.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe they could be so stupid!”

“I know. I’ve been having a hard time with it all day.”

Emma looked around. “Where are we going?”

“We’re here actually.” Craig turned into a parking lot.

Emma read the sign. “Rifle and Gun Club. What are we doing here?”

Craig pulled into a stall and killed the engine, turning to Emma. “I talked to the Chief of Police and got you a concealed carry permit.”

Emma watched him, her brow furrowed. “You think Norman is going to come after me?”

“I’m almost positive he is. Don’t you think so?”

“No, I think he’s halfway to Mexico already, or Canada, or anywhere but Westwood Harbor.”

Craig sighed. “I’d like to believe that, but we can’t count on it. You have to protect yourself.”

Emma nodded. “Ok.”

“And Emma, this time, shoot to kill OK?”

Emma just looked at him, chewing on her lower lip slightly, and obviously making up her own mind.

Inside the gun club, Craig pointed out all the guns that would be best for a concealed carry, and asked Emma to pick one. He could sense her excitement. She was a crackerjack shot for sure, and just like anyone who is naturally and exceptionally talented at something, she was drawn to shooting. But she’d never pursued it. Craig didn’t have to wonder why. Guns are taboo in many facets of society, especially in cities, for some reason. Especially in liberal cities like Westwood Harbor. People judge people who carry a gun or shoot a gun as a certain type of person. He just wished it didn’t take a madman hunting her for her to loosen up about what could be a perfectly innocent hobby.

She picked a compact Beretta storm. Craig paid for it and several boxes of ammo and took her into the indoor fighting range to get good with it. As she reloaded and fired over and over again Craig stood in awe of the shooting skills of his girlfriend. She hit the bullseye on the man-shaped target almost every time. Even after firing over 100 rounds, she was still hitting center mass almost dead-on.

She burned through all her bullets in 45 minutes, and Craig knew she could shoot Norman anywhere she chose if he stood still. Maybe this weekend they’d head out to the mountains and try some skeet shooting at moving targets. He had no doubt she’d excel at that too.

Back in his truck, Craig explained they needed to go to the police station to pick up her concealed carry permit.

“We also should head by the fire department and see what needs to be done so you can carry at work.”

“Carry at work? Wait a minute, I can’t carry at work. I’m a paramedic, not a cop.”

“I get that babe, but you’re in danger. Norman might decide that while you are working is the best time to get to you.”

“I don’t think so. There’s so many people around all the time. And cops and firefighters.”

“Emma, you don’t have cops at 50 percent of your calls, or more. Someone has to have a gun.”

Emma fell silent. Craig could tell she was upset, and thinking hard.

“Look Craig, I won’t carry at work. You can’t imagine the kind of ethical dilemmas that could put me in. And it would make my patients more aggressive if they saw it. And what if someone tried to take it from me? It’s just too much of a powder keg. But you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine. Norman is probably not even after me, and if he is, he’ll try to catch me off guard, alone. Not at work.”

Craig thought hard. What Emma was saying made sense, but she was wrong about Norman. Norman was smart, and Norman probably knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t carry at work. If Norman was going to come after her, he would almost certainly do it while she was working.

He glanced at Emma and could tell her mind was completely made up and there would be little he could do to convince her.
Damn stubborn woman
, he thought.
Damn strong-minded woman
, another part of his mind threw at him.
That’s why you love her.

Craig switched gears. How could he keep Emma protected at work, even if she wouldn’t carry? And that’s when the perfect idea hit him. He almost sat back and cooed in delight at his genius idea, but he caught himself. Normally he would never lie to Emma, but he didn’t care what the cost of this little omission was, as long as it kept her alive.

V
ivian stopped reading for a second and listened to the click-clack of Hawk’s keyboard in the other room. The clicks and clacks sped up, to an almost frantic pace. She wished she could go in and ask him what was going on, did he find something? But she knew if she did she would hit a brick wall. He never shared anything with her. In the past 4 days, he had barely said 4 words to her. Since they’d arrived he’d spent all day and most of every night on the computer, or poring over his notes. Now that Norman had escaped, things seemed even worse. He was on the computer when she went to bed, and he was on it again when she woke up. She wasn’t sure if he was sleeping at all. But he had to be, didn’t he? He did most of his eating at night too, probably concerned that he would run into her if he entered the kitchen in the daytime.

But things weren’t all bad. This evening, she’d taken a walk in the forest and listened to the birds chirping good night to each other. She was enjoying having the time to just sit and read on her tablet. She’d already caught up on her 2 year backlog of professional journals and she’d even finished a few books that were strictly pleasure reads - for the first time in years.

She’d also gone to the grocery store yesterday after seeing how much Hawk ate. She had made a large casserole the day before, eaten a small portion, and when she’d woken up yesterday morning the glass dish had been washed and put away. Mouth open, she had wanted to go in and ask if he really ate the entire casserole, but she couldn’t stand the way he refused to look at her or say more than one word at a time to her. So she just went shopping and bought more food.

Besides, if she stayed out here she could pretend they were getting along and that maybe there was even something between them. She could imagine his muscular body in the other room just waiting till his work was done so he could come in and sit down next to her. She would lean into his chest and smell his cologne. He would caress her hair and say something sweet to her, then lean in and kiss her gently. She imagined his kisses would start out gentle, but become more and more fervent while his hands roamed around her body. Eyes closed, she saw herself rip off his shirt and cover his chest in kisses. She felt the hard denim of his jeans under her hands as she yanked at his zipper. And when he finally sprung free her breath caught in her throat at the sight -

Vivian’s tablet dropped out of her limp fingers and hit the floor, startling her. Her cheeks blushed crimson when she realized she’d been doing it again. Day and night she‘d been fantasizing about Hawk. In fact, she’d been so busy dreaming of Hawk she hadn’t had one of her nightmares about Norman since their first night here. The day they’d gotten the news that Norman had escaped she’d been certain that her sleep would be filled with horrible images of running from Norman, or of Norman taking her from her apartment and shooting her up with that drug.

She was quite irritated at herself, not only because she couldn’t seem to control the erotic picture show in her brain, but also because she hadn’t had the nightmares. Was it really that her mind was just too busy getting busy to dream about Norman? Or was there more to it? Did Hawk somehow make her feel safe? Safer then she felt alone? Because that was ridiculous. She was a modern woman. She didn’t need a man to keep her safe.

Idly, Vivian thought about Emma carrying a gun now. She wondered if she should get a gun. Maybe Hawk would teach her how to use one. Yeah right, and maybe Hawk would get down on one knee and propose to her. She laughed out loud at the thought and heard the clickety clack in the other room stop. She covered her mouth and giggled again, silently.
Sorry to disturb you Hawk.

After a few beats, the keyboard noise started up again and Vivian picked up her tablet. Well, he’d have to talk to her sometime today. She had some things she wanted to discuss with him about Norman.

She looked at her tablet one last time, and put it down for the day. God hates a coward. It was time to talk to Hawk.

She walked into the computer room and sat down behind Hawk on the short, black, leather couch.

He ignored her and kept typing.

“Hawk, I need to talk to you.”

“What?” Clickety clack, clickety clack.

Vivian waited. She didn’t want to compete with whatever was on the screen.

He kept typing and the room filled up with the noise.

“Hawk. Can you listen to me please?”

He stopped typing. Vivian waited, but he didn’t turn around. She felt her blood getting hot. Did this man have no common manners? Had no one ever told him that it was rude to expect someone to talk to your back? She tried to push through.

“Uh, I’ve been thinking about Norman, and remember that RV that he had us in? Where did it come from? I mean, I’ve seen pictures of his house, and he didn’t have RV storage, so he had to store it somewhere, right? What if he’s got a drive-in storage locker in Westwood Harbor? They can’t auction those things off for a few months after no one pays for them. And I’ve heard that people live in them sometimes. If he had a combination lock on one he wouldn’t even have needed a key - all he would have needed to do was get there.”

Hawk didn’t say a word. Didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t say “that’s a stupid idea,” or “leave the detecting to the detectives.” Nothing. He just ignored her, like he’d been doing for days. No, for weeks now. No, actually for months. Since the first day she’d met him, he’d never properly looked her in the face once, or shook her hand, or given her a hug. Nothing. Vivian felt her blood go right past the boiling point. It went nuclear.

She stood up. Fury making her breathe heavily, she shouted at his back, “You know what? I’ve had enough of your shit! I am not some goddamn, insignificant bug you found on your shoe! I am a living, breathing human being and I deserve the respect you’d show anyone else, even a goddamn criminal! I have never been anything but nice, and decent, and caring towards you, and yet you act like I don’t even exist. Well that’s it, I’m done trying to be nice to you Hawk Kinkaid. You sit in here and you do your work, and you keep acting like I don’t exist. I’ll make it real easy for you. I’m leaving in the morning! I’ll give Craig the address and he can drive up and get you when you are ready to go home. But when you do, you just stay away from me, understand?”

Hawk’s chair swung around slowly and he stared at her, open-mouthed. But he still didn’t say anything.

Vivian fled to her room and started looking for things to pack.

H
awk sat in his chair, stunned. She was right. Every word she’d said was right and true. He was an ass. A jerk. The lowest form of life. He’d been treating her like crap, for no reason other than he liked her, and that she reminded him slightly of someone who’d once hurt him very badly. But that didn’t excuse it. Didn’t excuse it for a second. You don’t treat other people like crap because of your own fucked-up feelings that you’ve never dealt with.

Hawk sat in the chair and stared at the doorway, wishing she’d come back in. Wondering how he could fix it. Hoping she wouldn’t leave. God he was bad at this! He hadn’t been in a relationship with a woman in over 10 years, and he didn’t remember how things were done. Should he apologize? Would she even listen? She was pretty pissed.

And her idea! Hawk kicked himself in the head internally for not thinking of it himself. A storage unit? Or an RV and boat parking business? That was gold! He grabbed his phone and texted Craig.
Vivian had great idea. Check storage units that take RVs. Or any and all storage units. If Foster was a customer he could be living inside one now, no money needed. I will gather list of storage units in Westwood Harbor. You may need to get warrant in morning to pull records.

That done, his mind turned back to Vivian. He could apologize. You didn’t have to be good at apologizing to do it. He got up and took a step towards the door, but stopped, suddenly scared. More scared than he’d ever been with a gun pointed at him. How was it that Vivian did this to him? He wondered if she had any idea the kind of effect she had on him.

He heard her moving around in the kitchen. He took a deep breath, internally screwed up his courage, and went out.

“Vivian.”

She stopped walking, small suitcase in hand, and looked at him.

“I’m sorry. You are right. I was a jerk. I’ve been treating you poorly and there’s no cause for it. I just. I just. I. I guess I don’t have any excuses. Please forgive me. Please don’t leave. I promise I will be on my best behavior from now on.”

He strode to her side and took the suitcase from her hand. He smiled what he hoped was a repentant smile, and held up the suitcase.

“Let me carry this. Where do you want it?”

Vivian stared at him, her eyes wide, face lined with shock.