To Love a Cop (15 page)

The talking part of the class was boring. Jake slumped in his seat and didn’t really listen. They were supposed to spend most of the session on the range, but really it only ended up being, like, half the time. And then Ethan only let them shoot .22 rifles, which was fun but not what Jake wanted. What he really wanted was to try Ethan’s Glock, which he wore on his hip as he went from student to student, correcting their stance or the way they held the rifle. Because Jake was in the next lane, despite wearing earplugs
and
earmuffs he heard Ethan talking to a girl who shut her eyes every time she pulled the trigger. Since they were all wearing eye protection, too, Jake didn’t know how Ethan could tell except she wasn’t hitting the target.

Something else Jake didn’t like: the targets were sort of vaguely deer-shaped. He wanted to use the ones he’d seen in movies, a man’s torso and head, because he knew that was what cops would be shooting at.

Tonight was the first time since the day of the gun show Jake had seen Ethan with the Glock. He hadn’t even worn it to the other two classes, and because Mom was so freaked about guns, he didn’t when he came to Jake’s house. But tonight, as soon as they left the house and he got in his big honkin’ SUV, he’d used a key on his ring to unlock the glove compartment and taken the gun and holster out of it. He took a moment to snap his holster back on his belt even before he started the engine.

Jake had wanted really bad to hold the gun. Just looking at it made his chest feel tight in a way that was good and bad, both. He couldn’t remember exactly what Dad had carried. He’d only been five, too young to pay attention to stuff like that, but knew Dad’s had looked a lot like Ethan’s. And Ethan said the Glock was a common weapon for cops to carry. There was no way Jake could ask Mom what gun it was he’d fired that day.

So part of him was thinking now with a kind of horror,
Was that what I used to kill Marco?
And part of him was conscious of how powerful that gun was. The memory of the way it had leaped in his hands as if it was alive was embedded in his very bones. But he’d been little then. Now he was almost as tall as Mom. He could control it.
He’d
be powerful holding it.

He didn’t know why, but he badly wanted to relive the experience of holding a gun like that. It tangled him up inside sometimes, because Mom would never understand. He wasn’t sure anyone would.

Having run out of his allotted ammunition, he stepped back from the counter, leaning the .22 pointing down against it, and started to lift off his earmuffs.

Ethan moved to his side, shaking his head and frowning. He bent close and said loud enough for Jake to hear, “Leave those on until everyone is done and we leave the range.”

“Can I have more ammunition?”

“No, everybody gets the same amount.”

“I bet Mom would buy some extra—”

“No.” Like it wasn’t even worth talking about, Ethan walked away to help some other kid. Jake was left bored, and now mad, too.

Finally they finished, turned in the rifles and eye and ear protection, and walked out. All around him, kids were talking to their parents about how cool the class had been, and calling goodbye to each other, and some of the parents wanted to talk to Ethan so Jake had to just stand there and wait.

It seemed like forever before it was just the two of them in the Yukon. Jake fastened his seat belt, watching as Ethan did the same.

“How come you never came to help me?” he asked as if the question had been bottled inside without him realizing it.

Ethan glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Because you didn’t seem to need help. Some of the other kids did.”

“Oh.” He slumped lower. “You said we could go sometime and shoot handguns, too.”

Ethan was looking over his shoulder to back out. “When I think you’re ready.”

“If I didn’t need help, doesn’t that mean I’m doing it right?”

“You are doing fine. Fine doesn’t mean you’re ready to handle a Glock.”

Anger built in him until it had to burst out. “So you get to decide?”

“I do.” Ethan looked at him, a single, somehow dismissive glance. “What’s with you tonight? I had the impression you weren’t paying attention in class, and you seem mad.”

“I don’t care about .22 rifles. They’re, like, for
girls
.”

“They’re great for boys, too,” Ethan said mildly. Like he wasn’t taking Jake seriously. He was stopped at a red light, and his fingers tapped on the steering wheel. “Not a lot of kick, fun to shoot and a good way to build accuracy.”

“You
said
you’d take me shooting with just us.”

The light turned green. Accelerating, Ethan said, “Even if I were otherwise inclined to, I don’t think I’ll have time this week. I have a couple of investigations that are getting intense.”

“So you don’t have time to come over?”

“I came over tonight, didn’t I?”

“So you could talk to Mom,” he mumbled.

He got another raised eyebrow look.

“Come on, that’s not fair, Jake. We all talked during dinner, and I took you to the class, not your mother. She and I spent all of twenty, thirty minutes talking.”

They’d told him to go do something else, like they were trying to get rid of him.

“You promised,” Jake said stubbornly.

“I’m a law enforcement officer. You know that. A lot of the time, my work has to come ahead of doing fun things. My friends have to understand that.”

He did, but he was still mad without knowing why. Jake jerked his shoulders and didn’t answer. They were passing under a streetlight, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the way the muscles in Ethan’s jaw flexed.

Jake’s eyes burned and he felt sick to his stomach. The way he was acting, Ethan would probably never want to do anything with him again.

And now they were home, and Jake would have to get out and not know whether Ethan would come back and shoot baskets with him again or anything.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I guess I just liked you being
my
friend, and tonight it was like you were everyone’s.”

Ethan came to a stop in front of Jake’s house and set his emergency brake before he turned in his seat. “I am your friend,” he said quietly. “I’m teaching the class because I wanted to do it for you. But once I committed to doing it, I have to be fair-minded. You handled the .22 well tonight. You
didn’t
need any extra help. Other kids did.”

“Then why did you say that, about me not being ready to try a handgun?”

“You know how dangerous they are. The only way you’re going to be able to handle one is when you’re being closely supervised.”

“But I could
try
!”

“Your attitude sucked tonight.” Ethan’s tone said,
We’re done.
“Work on that, and we’ll talk about it again. Now scoot.” He nodded toward the house. “Tomorrow’s a school day.”

Mad all over again, Jake fumbled enough to have trouble releasing the seat belt, and he almost fell when he slid down from the Yukon. But he slammed the door really hard without saying goodbye first and ran up to the porch. Feeling as though he wanted to explode, he let himself in the house without looking back. And when Mom stepped out of the kitchen and asked how the class had gone, he said, “It was okay,” and kept going until he was alone in his bedroom, the door shut.

* * *

W
HEN
E
THAN DIDN’T
accompany Jake to the door after the gun safety class and didn’t call the next day, Laura felt as miserable as a thirteen-year-old girl who’d been snubbed by the boy she thought liked her. She swung between humiliation—he had lost interest after kissing her because she was so bad at it—and the only slightly more mature realization that he might be having second thoughts because he must know she couldn’t be into casual sex and he didn’t want anything more complicated. Especially, she thought unhappily, with a woman who had an almost-teenage son with as many problems as Jake had.

To make matters worse, Jake had been sullen ever since Ethan dropped him off Tuesday night, and he wouldn’t say why.

“You know what?” she said finally, after watching him stuff his face at the dinner table Thursday evening while never once looking at her and barely mumbling minimal replies to her conversational forays. “I’m sick of your moods. No TV. If you have homework, please do it. Otherwise, go to your room. I’ll expect a better attitude from you tomorrow morning.”

He did lift his head. Shock was quickly supplanted in his eyes by something so dark, it lifted the hairs on her arms.
Hate
, she thought, then immediately corrected herself. No, of course not hate; he was mad, no surprise, and maybe he
was
heading into puberty, because he was sure acting like it.

His bedroom door slammed. She was left alone with a chilling silence.

And maybe I didn’t handle that very well.

She could only pray she hadn’t been taking her mood out on him.

Gee, and I wonder why Ethan has done a disappearing act.

Which, of course, he hadn’t done. A small moan escaped her. He’d had dinner here Tuesday. Kissed her passionately. Spent the rest of the evening teaching a class she suspected he’d signed up for solely for Jake’s sake. And now she was sulking because he hadn’t called yesterday.

Given that she hadn’t kissed a man in six years, she supposed she could forgive herself for not having a clue how relationships got up and running these days. But, really, did she have to revert to complete insecurity?

Clearing the table and scraping half her own dinner in the garbage, she talked sense into herself since she refused to let herself call him. Ethan definitely wanted her; he hadn’t even tried to hide how much. He was the one who’d made the move on her, not the other way around.

He was also a very busy man who’d somehow found an astonishing amount of time to give to a boy he must know needed someone. He might well have been working all-out the past two days. He was a detective; it must happen. And, insecure she might be, but she refused to be as shallow as his ex-wife.

After cleaning the kitchen, she sat down to go through catalogs to study furniture her buyers had recommended. Concentrating was hard. Her ears strained for the slightest sound. An occasional car passed outside; a dog barked. If Jake was doing anything but lying on his bed glowering at the ceiling, he was doing it silently.

Her heart clenched as she had the thought that, if he had access to a gun, she’d be scared right now.

Ridiculous.

I’m depending too much on Ethan
, she thought.
I need to quit hiding my head in the sand. Jake needs counseling.

Something she couldn’t do anything about right this minute. Eventually she calmed herself down and was able to focus.

Mostly underwhelmed by the pictures she’d flipped past, she did like a line of finely made, solid wood dining room furniture. Much of what her store carried was traditional in style, but with a difference. She didn’t want anyone walking in the door to see the same things they had already seen at three other furniture stores. This line used inlays and contrasting stains along with clean lines for a look that was elegant and distinctive. She’d do some research on the history and reputation of the small manufacturer—

Her phone rang.

Her heart gave a disconcerting little bump even though the caller might very well be her sister or a store employee who’d come down sick or—

Ethan Winter.

She took a couple of deep breaths before answering, making sure her tone was pleased and just a little surprised. “Ethan.”

“Hey,” he said. “Hope I didn’t catch you in the middle of something.”

“Like what? Supervising Jake’s toothbrushing?”

His chuckle was a lovely sound, low and just a little husky. “I suppose you had to do that, once upon a time.”

“Baths, too,” she told him. “He hated having water in his face, so hair washing was a challenge until he was, oh, four or five.”

In the tiny silence, she inevitably thought of what else had happened when Jake was five.

Ethan didn’t let her dwell on it, though. “Did you and Matt intend to have more kids?” he asked, both surprising her and sounding as if he really wanted to know.

Because he hoped for children of his own?

Oh, boy. She was getting way ahead of herself, and after a single kiss.

“Yes, but it would have meant me quitting work because of the cost of day care. So we thought once Jake started school, but then it didn’t happen.”

“Did Mama Vennetti know you were using birth control?” His amusement was plain.

As was so often the case with him, she found herself smiling, her mood suddenly sunny. “I think she began to suspect when I didn’t pop out a kid two years after the first one, like her daughters and her other daughters-in-law did.”

He laughed, and then said abruptly, “I wanted to call you last night, but I didn’t get home until damn near midnight.”

“I’d have been long since asleep.”

“I figured.”

“Was it the swastika case?”

“No, something else I’ve been working. It was one of those shit hitting the fan things that actually turned out well. As in, the asshole is now in lockup.” He made a sound. “Sorry for the language.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” she said truthfully. “I’ve been known to use bad words, believe it or not. Plus, I don’t want you having to watch what you say to me.”

“Same goes.”

“Are we talking about swearing?”

“And anything else,” he said, in that comforting rumble.

Laura blinked against the sting of tears. How did he know to say what she needed to hear?

“Like the fact my son is currently sulking in his bedroom after hardly speaking to me since getting home Tuesday night?” she said, almost lightly. “Did something go wrong?”

“Yeah, I think it did. I’m not a hundred percent sure what, though. He seemed at a simmer during the whole class. I could tell he wasn’t listening to a word I was saying in the classroom part of the evening, which irritated me. Then he developed some major attitude. He admitted on the way home that he was jealous of the time I spent with the other kids, but he was also in a snit because I wasn’t willing to reserve time at the range for him to handle my Glock. I told him I’d decide when and if I thought he was ready.”