Officer in Pursuit (8 page)

And still, the fear she’d been living
with was unbearably vivid. Rising from the depths of
unconsciousness to be greeted by the smell of burning, the scent of
her own home being transformed from a safe haven into a raging
deathtrap – it was something she dreaded, something that still
frightened her, when she let herself think about it.

“The Levinsons are gone,” Grey said,
still speaking slowly, apparently choosing his words in deference
to her now-obvious craziness. “Both of them. Who else would do
something like that?”

The answer was painfully
clear to her, a bolt of
if only you
knew
that hit hard and went deep, chilling
the very core of her.

She kept her mouth firmly
shut.

A broad smile spread across Grey’s
face. “I’ll have you know that over at Riley, we’re not as bad at
our jobs as some people seem to think. None of those sorry bastards
are getting out. Biggest danger you have to worry about in Cypress
now is probably a stray dog, or maybe that gator where you
work.”

“Brutus.” The enormous reptile
inspired zero fear in Kerry. Unlike people, animals – especially
gators – usually looked more menacing than they actually were, so
long as you gave them the space they deserved. It was
refreshing.

“Yeah, him.” Grey was still grinning.
“You might not have much faith in us after what happened this
summer, but—”

“It’s not that.” It really wasn’t. The
Levinson brothers’ escape had been a freak thing, the only one the
Riley Correctional Center had ever seen. And it hadn’t even
occurred within prison walls – the convicts had made an unlikely
run for it when a prison transportation bus had broken down. “I
don’t mind living near the prison, and I know you’re good at your
job.”

He was a member of PERT – Riley’s
prison emergency response team – so she knew he was among the best
of the prison’s correctional officers. It was a distinction that
had earned him hours of searching the county in heavy gear during
the brutal heat that past summer.

Grey nodded, seemingly mollified by
her faith in his work. The barest hint of amusement struck Kerry,
though she was still overwhelmingly embarrassed.

“Guess it’s just too soon after
everything that happened for me to surprise-cook turkey bacon for
anyone,” he said.

“You shouldn’t be cooking anyway.”
With her fear under control, she was suddenly aware of how
ridiculous it was that Grey had been cooking. “You’re supposed to
be resting. What were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to say thank you – you
know, return the favor. I would’ve been stuck in the hospital all
night if not for you. You saved my bacon. Pun intended.”

She snorted, couldn’t help it. “I’m
taking over breakfast from here. Just sit down and try not to burn
anything.”

In truth, she was glad to have an
excuse to escape his presence. Ever since he’d walked in on her
freaking out, she’d felt woefully exposed – like all her crazy was
showing through, and she couldn’t cover it back up while he was
still looking.

Alone in the kitchen, she’d have a
chance to regroup – pull herself back together.

A split second of solitude was all she
got. Instead of staying put and resting on the couch, Grey followed
her into the kitchen.

“I already made the bacon and put on a
pot of coffee. Eggs too – they’re on that plate, under the paper
towel.”

Kerry surveyed the breakfast buffet
he’d laid out on the counter. It was really … something. “Grey, are
you normally this bad at cooking, or do I need to take you back to
the doctor?”

Good lord, breakfast looked like it’d
been prepared by a well-meaning six year old. The bacon was still
sizzling in a hastily turned-off skillet, charred black, and the
eggs… When she whisked the paper towel off the plate, she
discovered a gelatinous mass of pale white goo that was burnt
around the edges, like a ghost of the scrambled eggs he’d tried to
make.

The coffee, to his credit, looked and
smelled great.

He raised a hand to the back of his
neck and rubbed, frowning. “I guess it’s pretty bad, isn’t
it?”

“What did you do to the eggs to make
them colorless?” They looked like they’d been painted
white.

“I know how into healthy eating you
are – I figured you were one of those people who only eats the
whites. So I removed the yolks … mostly.”

“Oh. Actually, I eat the whole
egg.”

“Damn. So much for my manly
intuition.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Apparently not.”

“Well, it was nice of you to think of
that.” Actually, it was one of the most considerate things she
could remember anyone ever doing for her. Now that she knew, she
looked at the colorless eggs in a new light. “Here, let’s eat – I
bet the eggs are fine. I just thought they looked weird before I
realized it was only the whites.”

“They’re burnt.” He said it like he
was confessing some sin.

“Only a little.” She divvied up the
charred delicacies onto two plates and poured two mugs of
coffee.

They ate in silence for a good minute
or two.

It was Grey who eventually broke it.
“Is it just me or…”

Kerry pasted a smile firmly onto her
face, preparing to praise his cooking no matter what he said. She
still felt guilty over her bad cooking comment, especially since
he’d gone out of his way to make things in a way he’d thought she’d
prefer. Breakfast was burnt, nearly flavorless and weirdly gritty,
but she wasn’t about to admit it.

Grey met her gaze over the little
kitchen table. “…am I an awesome cook?”

She nearly choked on her latest
mouthful of egg whites, had to wash them down with an enormous,
mouth-scalding swig of black coffee.

“I thought the food looked crappy,”
Grey continued, “but it tastes better than it looks. Thank
God.”

“Thanks again for cooking,” Kerry
said, studying his eyes for any sign of abnormal pupil dilation,
like the doctor had instructed her to. Grey’s eyes were so dark
that it was hard to gauge their pupil size from across the
table.

If he thought this was good, did that
mean that the effects of his concussion were still lingering, or
only that he ate much, much worse on a regular basis?

She didn’t dare bet that it was the
latter.

She pushed back her chair and refilled
her coffee mug. “I’m going to call in to work and tell Faye I won’t
be coming. It’ll only take a minute.”

Grey had called a supervisor the night
before to say that he wouldn’t be showing up for his shift, but she
had yet to get in touch with her boss.

“What – because of me?” His dark eyes
went wide. “You don’t have to do that. You’ve already done
enough.”

“Your 24 hours aren’t up yet, so I
can’t leave you alone – doctor’s orders.”

She dialed Faye before he could
protest and explained the situation.

Faye was understanding. Kerry could
count the number of times she’d called in sick to work on one hand,
and it was nice to have that count for something.

When she ended the call, there was
nothing left to do but actually consider how she’d spend the rest
of the day. Alone. With Grey.

She shoveled down the rest of her
breakfast while she thought.

“Since what’s done is done,” Grey
said, “does that mean we’re hanging out here for the day, or do you
want to go somewhere else?”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know. The beach or
something?”

Kerry chewed a strip of particularly
charred bacon slowly, so as not to chip a tooth. “You’re supposed
to be resting your brain. No work, no TV or computers…”

“Last time I checked, the Atlantic
Ocean wasn’t a screen. I wouldn’t be, uh, looking at anything too
hard while I was there.” His gaze dipped down to her chest for half
a second before he snapped it down even lower, to his clean
plate.

Heat streaked across Kerry’s cheeks
with a velocity she hadn’t realized was possible. She wasn’t
exactly hauling that much around in the chest department. Could
Grey really not keep his eyes from straying to that area of her
body?

Her first instinct was to say no to
the beach. But if she did, that would mean staying in her little
house alone with him all day, deprived of the distractions that
movies or TV might offer. What would they do?

“I guess we can go if you’re sure you
feel up to it. I’ll drive though, and you’re not allowed to do
anything but lie on the beach and relax.”

He arched a brow at her. “Not allowed?
Have you been taking bossiness lessons from Sasha or
something?”

“I just don’t want you to get sick.
This whole mess is my fault and I’m trying to fix it.”

“Okay. So what are you going to do to
me if I don’t listen?”

One corner of his mouth quirked the
tiniest bit. He smoothed his lips back out, but his eyes looked
suspiciously bright, considering that they were nearly black. “I
have this suspicion that Sasha spanks Henry when he misbehaves.
What do you think?”

For the second time that morning, she
nearly choked. After awkwardly forcing down the last bite of her
breakfast, she hid her face behind her coffee mug. “I don’t know.
God, Grey! I’m going to let that one slide since you hit your
head.”

He just grinned. He was pushing her
buttons and he knew it.

Kerry was reminded of Sasha, but not
for any reasons that had anything to do with her fiancé, Henry.
Sasha loved to push people’s buttons for the fun of it
too.

“Let’s get ready for the
beach.”

She packed a few towels and some
sunblock into a bag, then changed into her navy blue tankini.
Apparently, her modest swimsuit didn’t stop Grey from staring – a
fact that proved Kerry didn’t need Sasha’s wardrobe advice to
attract him.

Afterward she pulled on shorts and a
t-shirt over top and found her flip flops. When she emerged into
the living room, Grey was there wearing a t-shirt and the same
board shorts he’d worn to jiu-jitsu the night before.

“By the way,” she asked as they exited
the house, “how does your head feel?”

No sooner had she set foot outside the
front door than she nearly tripped.

The edge of her right flip-flop hit
something solid and she pitched forward, awkwardly catching herself
with a hand on the doorframe.

Grey grabbed her upper arm a second
too late.

“I’m fine,” she said, and pulled away,
trying to pretend like his touch hadn’t raised her body
temperature, leaving her feeling faintly and deliciously
fevered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She dropped her gaze to the
porch floorboards. The object she’d tripped over was a newspaper,
tightly rolled and secured with a rubber band.

Grey picked it up before she
could.

“You wanna set this
inside?”

She took it from him, examined it like
it was an artifact from a distant galaxy. “I don’t get the
paper.”

Grey shrugged. “Maybe the paperboy
threw your neighbor’s copy onto your porch by mistake.”

“Maybe. I’ll take it over later, when
we get back from the beach.”

She tossed it into the house without a
second thought, unable to explain why every square inch of her skin
prickled as she closed and locked the front door.

CHAPTER 7

Grey was going to have to write a
thank you note to the guy who’d shoved his gross, sweaty foot into
his face at jiu-jitsu. Sitting on the beach with Kerry, he couldn’t
remember the last time he’d had such a good day, even if his head
did ache a little, now that he was out in the hot sun.

She was wearing her swimsuit – the
blue one she always wore, with the top that tied behind her neck
and went all the way to her hips, and the little shorts-style
bottom. The fabric was dry so it wasn’t mind-blowingly clingy like
it had been a couple days ago, but it was still hard to keep his
eyes off her.

Her legs were slim and toned. Even
when she was resting, he could see the carefully-shaped little
swells of her biceps and triceps. After yesterday evening, he
understood why she worked to be strong – jiu-jitsu was hard. Grey
had had no training but had still had a weight advantage over the
guy he’d been rolling with. He’d been new too, but still. Someone
as tiny as Kerry would need every advantage she could give herself,
both with technique and strength.

“You said you’ve been training
jiu-jitsu for a year, right?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her gaze from the
shoreline and looked at him instead.

“How long does it take to get good at
it?”

She shrugged. “Years. Forever, maybe.
Why, are you planning to come back?”

“I might.”

She raised her brows. “I was just
teasing.”

“What – you don’t want me
around?”