30 Seconds (2 page)

He grinned. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Well, I just might share it with you.” On her way back, she saw her keys lying in a heap on the floor. She bent down to pick them up.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Her hand stopped a few inches from her keys. “Why not?”

“If you take it, they’ll know you were here.”

She straightened. “You mean I can’t lock up?” She looked at the rack containing her collection of music including John Lennon and Bob Marley records, the case of classic Cadillac models, and original works of art on her walls. All of which miraculously survived the ransacking that caused shattered lamps, a gutted mattress, up-ended furniture, and a broken bathroom mirror.

He looked too. “A squad car can keep an eye on your place,” he offered.

She inhaled slowly. “Thanks.” Then she remembered the keys for the hospital. “Can I take a few keys off for work?”

He shook his head. “You’re going into protective custody. You’re not going to be working.”

She glared at him.
We’ll see about that. At least I have my ID badge in my purse.

He pointed at the ice cream in her hand. “Do you have everything now?”

She smiled. “Yup.”

“Good. Let’s go.” He opened the window.

She planted her feet. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Out the window?”

He grabbed her arm and tugged her to the window. “I didn’t save your life to get shot to death walking out the front door. We’ll go down the fire escape and take the back alley for a couple of blocks.” He studied her curiously. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

She straightened her spine and thrust her chin into the air. “Don’t make me laugh.” She swung the duffel bag, aiming for his gut. When he grabbed it, she was already climbing out the window. On the last landing, she found the ladder wasn’t all the way to the ground.

“I love this part,” she claimed as she stepped onto the raised ladder. Before he could stop her, she jumped, putting all her weight on the metal rung. The ladder slide fast and hit the black pavement with a loud clank. With a triumphant laugh, she hopped down and waited for Officer Herro to reach the bottom.

“I started sneaking down fire escapes when I was nine,” she told him.

“I’m sure you did.”

She glared at him. “Cállate, puerco! Tu eres la razon que estoy en este mierda!”

He lifted a brow. “What was that?”

“Spanish.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said it in Spanish because I never would say it to a cop in English.”

“What if I knew Spanish?”

She shrugged. “I took a chance. Lucky guess.”

“Mmm.” He snatched her arm and tugged her along.

They slunk through the alley like stray cats. The air smelled of piss, vomit, and rotting garbage, and it was making Dani lightheaded. She was used to the dizzying scents of bleach and antiseptics suffocating the hospital, but the putrid odor in the alley made her head spin and her stomach churn. She swayed.

“Whoa. What’s wrong?” Officer Herro held her shoulder and put a hand to her face. His thumb stroked her cheek. She wondered if he realized it.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m a cop, remember? I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’m a doctor,” she countered. “I know when something’s wrong with me. We’ve been in this alley for a while now. The smell is making me dizzy. That’s all.”

“All right.” He took her hand, lead her out of the alley’s bowels, and onto the city street. Gas-guzzling buses and air-polluting cars zoomed down the street carrying the businessmen and women doing their butt-crack-of-the morning commute.

Dani and Officer Herro hurried along on the sidewalk. She was wearing a backpack, he was holding a duffel bag, and both of them were peering over their shoulders every ten steps.

“Like we don’t look suspicious,” she mumbled under her breath.

A few minutes later, they made it to his undercover car tucked on a side road. He opened the door for her, but she stayed put.

“I’m not getting into any vehicle with you until I have proof you’re really a cop.”

Sighing, he reached into the center console and held up his badge for her to inspect. Once she was satisfied he was who he claimed to be, she buckled herself into the passenger’s seat.

As soon as he started the car, he turned on the radio. “Do you like rock?”

She smiled at him. “My mother gave birth to me at a Kiss concert. What do you think?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Scout’s honor.” She held up two fingers. “I was born in the eighties, the time of real rock and roll. Back then, it was all about head-banging and acid, which I’ve never done by the way.”

He looked at her in amusement.

“My mother doesn’t like the new generation of rock,” she continued. “She makes fun of the piercings in strange places, man-liner, and gothic clothing. To this day, she still tells me my tats are ridiculous.”

He raised a brow. “You have tattoos?”

She leaned forward and pulled up her shirt to reveal a string of notes on her lower back. The curving of the symbols was fancy, and the lines separating them were neat.

“What is it?”

“String notes for Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’.”

“Good song. Do you have anymore?”

She sat back. “I do,” she admitted. “But they are inappropriate to show you, Officer Herro.”

“Blake.”

“What?”

“Call me, Blake.”

“Blake Herro.” She listened to the sound of his full name and decided she liked it. “I know Blake is old English, but I don’t have a clue about Herro.”

“And wouldn’t.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“I changed my last name when I was twenty. It’s completely made up.”

“Why?”

“My father split the day after I was born. My mother and grandmother raised me. My mother kept his last name but I had no respect for it. On my twentieth birthday, I changed it to a name I could live with.”

“And you chose hero. I mean He-are-row.” She sent him a teasing smile. “Your future wife and son will be proud to have your name.”

He glanced at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled. “And when did you decide you wanted to be a police officer?”

“When I was eighteen, I wanted to conquer the world, but I figured I should make the world a better place before I did.”

“So you’re conquering the crimes in the world.” She nodded. “After my accident, I wanted to do the same thing, but instead of killing the bad guys, I wanted to help the injured.”

“Accident?”

She hesitated. “Car accident.”

“How’d it happen?”

“I don’t remember,” she answered honestly, but she didn’t want Blake to dig any deeper, so she cranked up the volume, effectively putting an end to all conversation.

As she stared out the window, the horrible memories of the car accident that left her in a coma for a year played in her mind. She almost didn’t notice the city shrinking in the distance.

She peered over her shoulder as they drove farther away from Cleveland. She turned stiffly and eyed the stretch of road taking her farther and farther away from the police station. Her heart galloped in her chest. Where was he taking her? While she told him revealing stories about her birth and showed him her tattoo, he was driving her out of the city.

She nonchalantly folded her arms across her stomach and continued to sing along with the song as her fingers snuck over to the belt buckle. The door was unlocked. All she had to do was release the buckle and she’d be free.

She may be scared shitless of being in another car accident, but it was better than letting Blake kidnap her.

She eased the buckle out of its trap and held it in her sweaty palm. Blake was driving in the outer lane. She figured she had a chance at escaping without another car running her over. All she had to do was jump and roll.

The song changed and her hand released the buckle. The seat belt flew across her chest and snapped back into place as she launched forward and flung open the door. Her feet were on the edge, her hands braced on the frame. She was flying forward when an arm like an iron bar looped around her waist and pulled her back in. Her hip slammed into the stick shift.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Blake demanded. “You really want to jump out of a moving car?” He fought to hold her with one arm and still keep driving while she kicked wildly. “Will you stop?”

“Pull the car over,” she shouted.

He swerved the car and stomped on the brake. Her nails tore at his neck, breaking skin. He let out a curse and snatched his arm away, giving her the opportunity to break free. She dove out of the car and was running before her feet even hit the ground.

Her eyes were on the city, an oasis too far away, as her feet pounded the asphalt. She wouldn’t make it, not all of those miles, but cars were coming. She was a good runner and she was in great shape. She could run to one of those cars.

She ran as fast as she could, creating a gap between them, but she underestimated the speed of a cop. Blake caught her arm and yanked her out of the way of oncoming traffic. The sudden jerk caused her to lose her balance and she fell to the ground cursing.

Blake tumbled with her.

She fought with him, kicking and punching, but he grabbed her wrists and cemented her hands over her head. “What the hell is wrong with you? I saved your life and now you’re running away from me as though I were trying to take it? I’m a fucking cop! A good cop!”

She didn’t care. “You said you were taking me to protective custody.”

“I am.”

“Bullshit! The police station is in the city, not out here.”

“Do you want to spend the night behind bars? Because that is the only protection they’ll give you at the police station. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” A red pickup truck had stopped on the other side of the road and a black man was coming toward them.

Blake put his badge in the air. “I’m a cop.”

The black man didn’t stop his pursuit. “Cops do dirty shit these days.”

Blake ripped his handcuffs out of his back pocket.

Dani looked at them fearfully. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

He didn’t answer. He flipped her over in the dirt, forced her hands behind her back, and handcuffed her. “This is police business,” he shouted to the man. “Get back in your truck before I arrest you too.”

“You can’t do that.”

Blake hauled Dani to her feet. “I sure as hell can. You’re interfering in an arrest.”

The truck driver looked from Blake to Dani. “What’d she do?”

“That doesn’t concern—”

“I’ll tell you what I did,” she cut him off. “I hotwired his car. I didn’t know it was an undercover cop car. You have to be careful these days. Pigs drive all sorts of cars now.”

“All right.” Blake pushed her forward. “Get back in your truck and drive on,” he told the truck driver.

With a firm grip, he led Dani back to his car. Both of the doors were wide open. After the red pickup drove by, he turned her to look at him. He had one hand on her arm to hold her still and the other hand planted on the car. He had her cornered.

Apparently, he didn’t trust her.

“I played your game,” she told him. “Now where are you taking me?”

“Protective custody.” He moved his hand from her arm to her shoulder. “You need to trust me.”

“I don’t
need
to do anything.” She shrugged her shoulder away from his hand.

“I keep people alive every day, and right now, the person I’m trying to keep alive is you. Will you let me?”

She stared into his dark green eyes. They were the eyes of an honest man. She let out a sigh of surrender and nodded.

“Are you going to bolt again, or can I uncuff you?”

“Yes,” she growled.

His brow shot up. “Yes you’re going to bolt, or yes I can remove the cuffs?”

“You can remove the cuffs.” He didn’t move. “I won’t bolt, I promise.” He turned her around and removed the cuffs.

While she rubbed her wrists, he slammed the passenger’s door shut and opened the back. “Get in.”

“Real trustworthy,” she grumbled, but climbed in anyway.

From the back seat, she kept her eyes on Blake, watching every movement. He switched radio stations, turned up the heat, cracked open a window, and took the knit beanie off his head. She bit her bottom lip when she saw his hair; he had curls. She had always had a weakness for curls and his were chestnut with blonde streaks.

So cute
.

“Where’d you learn to run like that?”

Blake’s question caught her off guard. For the last minute, she had been imagining running her fingers through his gorgeous hair. She shook the dangerous thought away.

“I ran track in college for fun. I had to do something between suturing pig’s feet and practicing how to administer an IV.”