Emergency Response (6 page)

She wasn't one to stress over being on time, but Archer managed his schedule to the second. He'd gotten his MBA before he decided to become a deputy, and he often commented that time meant money.

The doorbell rang and Darcie jumped. She thought she'd come to grips with the attack. Guess she was wrong.

“You stay here with Jake. I'll see who it is.” Archer went to the door, looked through the peephole and pulled open the door. “What are you doing here, Lockhart?”

Noah?
She seconded Archer's surprise.

“Since I have to go downtown anyway, I thought I'd save Jake a trip. Is Darcie ready?” he asked, sounding like he was expected.

Why couldn't he have been a minute later, so she'd already be in the car with Jake? Now that he'd arrived, she couldn't justify wasting Jake's valuable time. She turned to him. “Thanks for offering to take me, but since Noah's here, I'll catch a ride with him.”

He nodded. “Keep me informed of any developments.”

Resolved to keep Noah at arm's length today, she stepped to the door and for a moment, she just stared at him. Under a leather jacket, he wore a plain black shirt tailored to his muscled body and paired it with black slacks, making him look dangerous. He was freshly showered and shaved, a smile on his face. That dimple winking at her.

How was she going to get through the day when the mere sight of him made her stand and stare like a dolt?

“I wasn't expecting you,” she finally said, sounding like a total airhead.

His cool blue eyes told her he knew she was struggling. “Thought I'd help out.”

“And I appreciate it, but next time a heads-up would be better.” Her words came out testier than she'd intended.

“You're sure you don't want to ride with Jake?” Archer eyed Noah.

As a negotiator, Archer noticed subtle nuances and he had to be picking up on the tense vibe between her and Noah.

“I'm perfectly safe with Noah,” she said, meaning her physical safety, of course. Mental and emotional were another story. “Call me if Pilar or Isabel need anything.”

She stepped outside and stopped to prepare herself to spend time with Noah in the confines of a car where she couldn't simply walk away if the tension escalated between them. She looked up at the late winter sun shining through gray skies. Weak rays filtered down to the frosty grass, making it sparkle.

“No dallying.” Noah took her arm and urged her to his car.

He opened the passenger door and she eyed him.

“Don't fight me on this, Darcie,” he said with determination. “You're on a hit list. If they found you on your way to Pilar and Isabel's house, they can find you here, too.”

The thought sent a tremor through her body and she felt for the weight of her gun in her purse. As she slid into the car, she wished she'd taken her target practice with the team more seriously.

Noah settled behind the wheel and without a word merged into traffic. They'd driven for thirty minutes when he glanced at her. “Can you set up an appointment for me to talk to Winnie Kerr?”

“You mean for us,” Darcie added. “I want to talk to her, too.”

“For us, then. This afternoon if possible. I need to get her take on how your attack could be related to her will or her competency hearing.”

Darcie grabbed her phone and made the call, but it turned out that Winnie was out of town. Darcie arranged a meeting time for when Winnie returned on Friday. Winnie rattled on about her niece and Darcie was glad to talk to her friend. Plus, it alleviated Darcie's need to make small talk with Noah on the drive. When she hung up, she was pleased to find Noah turning into the central precinct's parking garage.

Noah shifted into Park and met her gaze with a direct stare. “We'll have to walk a few blocks to get to the office. I really don't expect your assailant is stupid enough to attack you this close to the precinct, but stay close to me and keep alert. Just in case.”

“Don't worry, I have no intention of wandering off.” They got out of the vehicle and she was grateful when he didn't try to touch her.

They made their way up the ramp from the secured lower level assigned to police vehicles.

At street level, Noah held up his hand. “Wait here while I do a quick sweep.”

He stepped onto the sidewalk and closely inspected the area around the garage before signaling for her to join him. He gestured at the garage wall. “I'll take the curb side. You, the interior.”

She moved to the wall and he took off at a quick clip. She matched him stride for stride. Automobile and foot traffic were both heavy with workers trying to get to work on time. They had to wait at the stop light at the corner, and she felt vulnerable standing out in the open. She took a step closer to Noah before realizing what she'd done. He glanced at her, his surprise at her action written in his expression. She opened her mouth to make a smart-aleck comment to deflect the moment, but the light changed and they hurried across the street and down the sidewalk.

At the next corner, Noah held up his hand. “We'll turn right here. Let me check it out first.”

He ran his gaze over the street, his focus intense. This was the Noah she'd seen at standoffs. Tough. Rock-solid and determined to resolve a situation without the loss of life.

“Okay, we're clear.” He stepped aside, allowing her to join him.

Another hundred feet to go. Noah must be right. Her attacker was never going to show up there. With each step closer to their destination, relief hovered on the edge of her emotions, waiting to release fully once they were safely inside the precinct's secured inner door.

“Gun!” Noah suddenly shouted and his powerful arms came around her and hurled her to the ground.

SIX

N
oah landed on his shoulder, the smell of damp concrete coming up to meet him. He made sure he took the brunt of the fall while cradling Darcie securely in his arms.
Pain
razored through his body, but he held fast to Darcie.

Bullets slammed into the wall above them. Fast. Fierce. To a layperson, it probably sounded like a submachine gun's staccatoed bursts, but Noah recognized it as a semiautomatic fired rapidly. He covered Darcie fully and held her in place. He hated putting his back to the shooters—it made him vulnerable—but there was no way he'd let a bullet touch her without going through him first.

“You okay?” he asked, glad that oxygen had found its way back into his lungs.

“Okay?” Her voice rose. “Okay? Someone is shooting at us. No, I'm not okay.”

“I meant did I injure you on the takedown?”

“Oh, that. I might have scraped my knee. Again.” She shifted, trying to get up.

He tightened his arms. “Stay down until I'm sure it's clear. They won't hang around for long.”

“If I agree to stay plastered to the sidewalk will you loosen your grip?”

He relaxed his arms a fraction, but didn't leave even a finger's width between them.

He wished he could get up or at least lift his head to assess the situation. To check for pedestrians caught in the crossfire. But bullets continued to pelt the wall, raining shards of brick down on them. Another bullet pinged off a parking meter and embedded in the concrete just shy of his head.

He pressed Darcie harder to the ground and curled his body around her. Regret over pushing her face into the concrete had him back off a bit. She didn't speak, but he knew it had to be uncomfortable. Physically and mentally.

The gunfire finally stopped and tires screeched on the street. The smell of burning rubber and fumes from oil burning on the engine filled the air.

“They're taking off,” he said.

She tried to squirm out from under him.

“Not yet,” he warned and kept her in place. “We'll wait for officers to come out and clear the area.”

“Isn't that overkill?” she asked, her voice muffled by police sirens winding up.

“Nothing is overkill when it comes to making sure you aren't harmed.” The words came out with more force than he'd intended, catching him by surprise.

“I know you're uncomfortable,” he said quickly to hide his heightened emotions. “But I wouldn't put you through this if I didn't think it absolutely necessary.”

She didn't respond. They lay there, Noah's adrenaline ebbing and his awareness of her as a woman growing. Her unique scent. The way she felt in his arms. Much like he'd imagined many times before his past mistakes came to mind and popped the bubble. They could never be together. Not a woman who lost a child and a man who gave one away. The worst combination possible, in his mind.

“Lockhart,” an officer called out from the precinct door. “Shooters have taken off. Patrol is on their tail. Hang tight while we clear the area.”

Noah rolled away and Darcie shifted to face him. He glanced up and down the street for the first time since they'd hit the ground. Several officers were helping pedestrians, but Noah didn't see anyone who'd sustained injuries.

Please, God, let that be true.

He sat up and so did Darcie. She ran her fingers over the wall, slowing at the scars left by the bullets. He spotted a slug on the ground and picked it up. Great. A full metal jacketed 9 mm. Common ammo that wouldn't lead to their shooter. Still, the bullet didn't rule out a gangster. They often owned Tec 9 semiautomatic rifles because they were cheap. Add a thirty-round magazine and the gun could fire rapidly.

Darcie started twisting Haley's ring around her finger—faster and faster—then looked up. “You saved my life again. I can never repay you.”

“It's my job.”

She frowned and he wondered how his comment could possibly have upset her.

“What's with law enforcement officers?” she asked. “You do something heroic and then say it's your job? I hear that all the time with the FRS.”

“Well, it
is
my job.” Uncomfortable under her intense study, he looked at the shards of brick on the concrete.

“Yes, but you put your life on the line every day and yet you're all so humble about it. We need to celebrate the work police officers do and you all need to let us.”

He looked back at her and held her gaze, trying to transmit how flawed he really was. “I'm not a hero, Darcie. Not some perfect guy you dreamed up. Far from it. I'm just an ordinary guy with a job to do.”

“Right now, you're my hero.” She leaned forward, took his hand and held it. “And you're not going to take that away from me. After everything I've been through in my personal life and with the job I do, I need to believe there is good in this world.”

He stared at their hands and couldn't help but notice how well they fit together. “You don't need to go far to find goodness. You see it in your team all the time.”

“I do, but I guess I take it for granted because I'm close to them. You, on the other hand, are not on the team and it's becoming quite clear that you're a good man.”

He hoped so, but he doubted she'd continue to feel that way if she looked at his past. “Again, nothing unusual. There are a lot of good men in this world.”

“Are there?” Her eyes narrowed.

He watched her for a moment and she dropped his hand, then squirmed under his gaze. “This is about Tom, isn't it?”

She shrugged.

“You don't want to talk about him,” Noah said. “Is that just with me or with anyone?”

“Anyone,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“There's no point in bringing up the past. It's done and over with.”

“If it's as done as you say, shouldn't you be able to talk about it?”

“You don't understand—can't ever understand—what it's like to lose a child.”

“Not to death, no, but...”

“But what?”

He looked away to stem any additional questions. He couldn't tell her about Evan. Not when she'd had her child taken away from her while he hadn't even been willing to see Ashley through her pregnancy. Sure, he wanted to make amends now, but according to Evan's adoptive parents, it was too late.

“So you don't want to talk, either,” she said, sounding as sad as he felt inside.

Not with her. No. He'd tried that once with a serious girlfriend years before. She said she didn't even know him anymore. Didn't understand him or the way he'd bailed on Ashley. So how could a woman like Darcie, whose husband had walked out on her as he'd walked out on Ashley, who'd lost a child, understand it? She couldn't—so there was no point in telling her. He couldn't bear to see the loathing on her face.

“Guess that means you're not over whatever it is, either,” she said, parroting his words back at him.

“We're clear, Detective,” the patrol officer announced.

Noah wasted no time and came to his feet. There was no longer a sense of urgency to get Darcie inside, but he wanted the conversation to end. He knew full well what he was doing. He was running away from the discussion. From her.

Hypocrite, asking her to spill her guts and you won't say a word.

Yeah, he was a hypocrite all right and despite the fact that the distasteful label ate at him, he'd continue to keep Evan a secret.

Noah put an arm around her shoulders and whisked her past the officers guarding the door and up to the second floor. At his cubicle, he helped her into a chair by his desk.

“Let me look at your knee.” He squatted in front of her before she could argue.

“It's just a scratch.”

He caught a good look at her torn khakis soaked with blood. “That's a lot of blood for just a scratch.”

She shooed him out of the way and put her finger in the hole. She widened the opening and probed. Her no-nonsense approach to an injury that had to be stinging made Noah squeamish.

“Superficial cut,” she announced. “I'm sure you have a first-aid kit, right?”

Noah nodded. “Otherwise, how are you? Any other injuries?”

“A few bumps, but I'm okay—thanks to you.”

He studied her. “You'd tell me if you were hurt, right? I mean it's not one of those things you want to keep hidden.”

She frowned at him.

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep harping on that.”

“Then why do you?”

Yeah, why did he? Maybe because he wanted to get to know her better. But how did he get to know a woman who wouldn't talk about the very things that made her who she was?

It wasn't easy.

“So you don't need medical attention, then?”

“Nothing I can't handle with that first-aid kit.”

“Right... I'll go see if there's any news on the shooter and have a clerk bring the first-aid kit to you.”

“Sounds good,” she said, her attention back on her knee.

He crossed the bullpen and asked a clerk to get the kit. He then stopped at Detective Bill Richter's desk, littered with candy wrappers, file folders and empty drink cups. Bill wore a rumpled shirt and creased pants. His shoes were scuffed and his hair too long. In a word, Bill was a mess to look at, but he was also a top-notch detective.

“What's the status on the shooter?” Noah cleared a corner of the desk and perched on it.

“Uniforms parked near the building pursued the car.” Bill paused and scratched his chin. “Unfortunately, they lost them in the traffic.”

“Seriously?” The word exploded from Noah's mouth, drawing the attention of his fellow officers. He lowered his voice. “We have how many uniforms out front and they can't tail a couple of gangsters?”

Bill eyed him.

“Okay, fine,” Noah said. “It could happen to any of us. I'm just frustrated. Anyone get the plate?”

“Weren't any plates. Car was a late '90s Honda Accord. Too common to trace. Two males in the vehicle. Both Latino.”

“I can't seem to catch a break,” Noah muttered.

“Suppose you tell me what this is about and maybe I can help.”

Noah filled him in on Darcie's attack the previous day.

“What about suspects?” Bill asked.

Noah listed them. “Actually, would you mind running a background check on Darcie and her ex for me?”

One of Bill's bushy eyebrows went up in a rainbow-sized arc. “Some reason you can't do that yourself?”

“Here's the thing.” Noah bent closer as he tried to figure out how to tell Bill that he had thing for Darcie without coming right out and telling him he had thing for her. “I've known Darcie for quite a while. Her marriage didn't end well. I'm not sure I can be impartial when it comes to Tom.”

Bill gave him an appraising look that every good detective could muster at a moment's notice. Noah didn't waver under the intense scrutiny.

“You'll owe me,” he finally said.

Noah stifled a relieved sigh. “That I will.”

“And you know I'll collect on it?”

“That I do.”

“Then give me their particulars, and I'll check them out later today.”

“I'll email it to you,” Noah said. “But I need you to be thorough.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “You'll get a thorough report, as usual.”

Noah thanked Bill, then crossed the busy bullpen to his desk.

Darcie had finished bandaging her knee and was just disconnecting a phone call.

She shoved the phone into her pocket. “I knew our office would be talking about the shooting and I wanted Jake to know we're okay.” She nodded at the far side of the room. “Was that conversation about the case?”

“Yes,” he said, but wasn't about to share his discussion with Bill.

“They get the shooter?”

“No,” he said, and before she could ask additional questions, he turned to his in-box to retrieve reports delivered by the clerk last night. “You still up for reviewing the callout list?”

“You'd better believe I am. No one shoots at us and gets away with it.”

“That's my girl,” he said, earning a raised eyebrow that he chose to ignore. He slid the report across his desk. “Detective Lewis is on vacation this week. I'll set you up at his desk.”

She picked up the stack of papers and he led the way across the bullpen. He heard her limping behind him and each step made him madder. He'd promised to protect her and he'd nearly failed. Today had been a skinned knee. What might tomorrow bring? Or this afternoon? The next five minutes even.

He couldn't let his guard down for a moment. If he did, the consequences could be deadly.

* * *

Darcie pretended to look at the long list of her callouts, but she couldn't focus after the shooting. If not for Noah, she'd be dead. Dead! She'd put on a brave front for him, hiding the fear that had seemed to paralyze her as he'd protected her with his own body.

Her hero. No doubt about it. She'd almost said he was her knight in shining armor, but a knight's armor could tarnish while an act of heroism never went away. Tom had once been her knight, and look what had happened with him. Choosing to run when things got tough. When she needed him. Leaving her alone to battle her grief. To live the empty days filled with loss. With loneliness. With Haley's deserted room, her toys scattered on the floor as she'd left them. Elle, her big stuffed elephant sitting on the bed waiting for Haley to come home and snuggle every night.

Darcie had poured so many tears into Elle's fuzzy body while waiting for Tom to come to his senses. To man up and come home. But he didn't. Not even a phone call.

Pain pierced her heart, the ache feeling fresh and new, and coming from where, she didn't know. Tears welled up and she closed her eyes to keep them from falling.

She thought she'd made peace with her loss, but maybe she hadn't. Or maybe seeing Noah and the opportunity he represented for a fresh start, for a new relationship, brought it all back. A reminder of what she could never have. Didn't want, right?