Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1) (13 page)

I adjusted myself behind my zipper and
practically flew out the back door, slamming it behind me. The cool
Virginia night air hit me like a slap to the face and I sucked in a
huge lungful of it to clear my head. I breathed in, then out, then
in again, my hands on my knees as I tried to get a grip. I reached
up and massaged my leg. The cold air had sent instant pain shooting
through it.

What in the freaking hell was wrong
with me? This was so unprofessional. Even though this was my first
WPD assignment, I still knew better than to get with a vic like
this. It was just lust, I told myself. I didn’t even really like
her that much.

But what about her did I not like?
Sassy? Yes. So what? It wasn’t like she was being a total bitch.
Considering what she was going through, having been ripped from her
life and regular routine, I thought she was handling it quite well.
Well, aside from her sneaking the booze. I laughed to myself; I
probably would have done the same thing if I’d have found
it.

I looked up to see a small circle of a
clearing, the tall trees surrounding me on both sides. The forest
was eerily quiet, and the light from an almost-full moon shone
overhead. Pulling my dip can from my back pocket, I slid it open as
I walked – limped –and yanked a pinch, shoving it into my bottom
lip. Sighing, I looked down at the can and shook my head. I really
should kick this nasty habit.

It was better than
smoking…
a small voice said.

But was it? I didn’t think so, and
knew I needed to wean off my nicotine addiction.

After this can is
empty…

My thoughts drifted back to Rayanne. I
couldn’t deny the physical attraction that was there. But was there
something more? I couldn’t entertain that thought. It was my duty
to protect her at all costs – it was my job. This was me paying my
penance for fucking up on the job. Even though I still thought two
out of the three “excessive force” charges were bullshit. One, I’d
take the heat for. I’d lost my temper. The other two deserved what
they got.

I heard a branch break behind me and
my gun was out of its holster and in my fist faster than I could
blink. With both arms locked in front of me, my silver H&K
pistol glinted in the moonlight at the subject standing in front of
me.

Rayanne gasped and put her hands up in
surrender. Biting her lip, she said, “Don’t shoot.”

Shaking my head, I re-holstered the
pistol at my hip and snapped it in. “You scared the shit outta me,
woman.”

She visibly breathed a sigh of relief
and came toward me slowly, wearing her jeans and the shirt I’d put
into the back of them earlier. She’d put it back on and I sort of
wished she would have left it off.

I stood stock-still as she came toward
me, my hand still digging into my leg to stay the pain there. She
came up to me and stopped within inches of me, but not touching me.
Her eyes searched my face with an unreadable expression on hers,
then they traveled down to my thigh, and her brow
furrowed.

“Don’t you have any medication for
that?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head. “Nah. I just deal
with it.”

I watched as she leaned down, getting
on her knees, the leaves crunching under her weight. With both
hands, she slowly edged them down my thigh, stopping at my scar.
Even though she couldn’t see it through my pants, she seemed to
know right where it was. With slow, gentle strokes, she massaged
it, and it felt like absolute heaven. With no control, I groaned in
the back of my throat.

She looked up at me. “There’s no harm
in a little medication to take the edge off, Duke. Pain isn’t
normal. It means something’s wrong.”

I shook my head. “Sometimes pain is
the only thing I have to remind me I’m still alive and can still
feel. I need it.”

With her eyebrows furrowed, she stood
up, her hand still on my leg as she gently grasped my left hand in
hers. “No, you don’t. I can’t help but think if you weren’t in pain
all the time, you might be….” she bit her lip, “nicer?”

I snorted, but didn’t pull away from
her. “What are you talking about? I’m perfectly nice.” I flashed
her my teeth, but I couldn’t really feel the rest of my face twist
into a smile.

“You’re like a dog with a thorn stuck
in its paw. All grumpy and growly. When we are done with this
assignment, I want you to go to the doctor and see if they can help
you.”

I laughed and pulled away from her,
turning my head to spit on the ground. “Blondie, I’ve taken drugs,
and gotten shots. They work temporarily but those drugs are
weaknesses I don’t need in my life. I’ve been living with this for
four years. I’m dealing just fine.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. She turned
around to go back into the house, wrapping her arms around herself
as she shivered slightly.

“Rayanne.”

She stopped and turned around. “Yes,
Duke?”

“I’m sorry about the kitchen. That was
unprofessional of me. It won’t happen again.”

She smiled sadly, and said, “And I
won’t have any more bourbon. Obviously, it’s been a while, and I
could barely handle a couple of shots.”

“That’s right, because I hid the
bottle.”

She nodded and turned around, heading
back to the house. I added, “I may let you have a little more
tomorrow if you’re good. You’re kinda cute when you’re
drunk.”

Stopping for a second, I thought I
heard her laugh, and then she kept walking and disappeared behind
the old wooden door of the small cabin.

Chapter 16

Rayanne

I went into my room and closed the
door, barely enough energy to change into my nightshirt and pajama
bottoms and crawl into bed. Between the bourbon, the cooking, and
the angst with Duke, I was exhausted.

I lie there staring at the ceiling,
trying to figure him out. His good looks were so distracting to me,
that at first I had failed to see the pain behind his eyes. His
brow always seemed to be creased, and I took this as anger, but
maybe it was pain. Sure, I’d noticed his limp, but plenty of people
live with injuries but aren’t in chronic pain. My heart went out to
him, as I couldn’t imagine not only living with chronic physical
pain, but there had to be some emotional trauma that went along
with it. He had said that the pain reminded him that he could still
feel. Had he closed himself off after his injury?

He clearly had no wife, and probably
no girlfriend either. Everything about him screamed terminal
bachelor, and with the attitude he was putting off, I could totally
understand why. What woman, aside for more than a night of fun,
would want to put up with him? It was like he purposely put off
asshole vibes to keep people at arm’s length. Which led me to
wonder why he chose the profession he was in. It was his job to
protect victims whose lives had been threatened, all because they
were trying to do the right thing and put bad people behind bars
where they belonged. A role like that seemed to scream ‘protector’
and ‘hero’ – not standoffish asshole.

Duke was most definitely a puzzle I
was determined to figure out. Hell, I had nothing better to do. I’d
read 9 of the 10 books we’d bought at the store and I was growing
restless with reading and needed something else to occupy my brain.
Maybe I’d find some more buttons of his to push and see if he
pushed back.

Morning light streaming in through my
window, combined with the smell of coffee and the clanging of cast
iron aroused me. I glanced at the alarm clock plugged into the wall
on the small, round bedside table. It was barely 8:00
a.m.

I really didn’t want to get out of bed
because I knew I had another boring day of nothing ahead of me. I
know a lot of people – people like my sister and my mom – who would
kill for a day of nothing. But not me. I liked to keep busy. On a
normal week, I would work 50-60 hours a week at the law firm,
realizing my personal time was even more precious after working so
hard. Now, I was bored out of my mind.

Reluctantly flipping back the covers,
I yawned and stretched, getting up out of bed and heading toward
the kitchen, where the smells there were enticing me.

Duke was at the stove with a spatula
in his hand, his ass looking way too fine in a pair of silver
athletic shorts. The muscles in his back bunched and moved, taking
the fitted green T-shirt with them.

“Good morning.” I smiled.

He grinned and turned back to the
stove. “Good morning.”

“Coffee?” I said, smoothing down my
hair that I was sure was sticking up. That was the downfall to this
short haircut. It stuck straight up after a night of
sleep.

He used the spatula to point across
the kitchen where the coffeemaker was perched on a table near the
curio cabinet. As I made my way over there, Duke said,
“Here.”

In his hand, he held a plain white
coffee mug.

“Thanks.”

I filled up the mug with the steaming
black perfection, and went to the fridge to find some creamer. He’d
only bought vanilla flavored, so I dumped a little in, and used a
spoon sitting on a folded paper towel to stir it.

I sat at the table and carefully took
a sip. God, it was so good. Since I had nothing to do but stare at
Duke as he cooked, I didn’t allow myself to feel guilty for doing
so. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t have a phone
to play on or a newspaper to read. Plus the view was much better
than anything online.

He turned around and carried a
steaming plate over to the table and set it in front of me. I
looked down at it. There was a perfectly made omelet and two slices
of bacon. I usually didn’t care to eat as soon as I got up, but I
most certainly wasn’t going to say anything.

“Thank you,” I said, sincerely meaning
it.

Duke walked to the table with his own
plate and fork and sat down across from me at the little outdated
wooden table.

He didn’t say anything, just dug into
his food and began to eat.

I tried not to watch him, but couldn’t
help it. He held his fork like a shovel, his entire meaty hand
wrapped around the silver stem, as he, in fact, shoveled it into
his mouth.

Biting back a grin, I carefully used
the side of my fork to cut the omelet and forked a piece of it into
my mouth. The omelet was perfect, and I told him so. “This is
delicious, Duke. Thank you.”

He looked up when I spoke. His eyes
met mine and he looked at me, a gaze so intense it seemed to burn
right through me. It was as if he had something to ask me,
something to say. I held his gaze, my eyes darting back and forth
between his, willing him to say something. Something nice, that is.
I couldn’t take any more of his gruff behavior. I was proud and
happy to think that I’d broken through his shell just a little bit
in the past few days. Was he one of those guys who was just
misunderstood and you just needed to get to know him better? I
wasn’t sure, but what I did know was that no matter what someone’s
circumstances, nobody had a right to be mean and ugly to someone
else just because they were miserable.

He stared at me a bit longer than was
proper, so I set my fork down on my plate, and smiled. “What is
it?”

Keeping his silence, he continued to
stare. It was as if the words really, really wanted to come out.
His lips stayed clamped in a straight line, his fork still solidly
in his hand, but for some reason, he didn’t look very hungry
anymore. Finally, he said, “Thank you for last night.”

My lips twitched in amusement, and I
just couldn’t help myself. “It’s been quite a while since a guy
said that to me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said,
his eyebrows furrowed.

I leaned back in my chair laughing. I
laughed so hard, I almost fell out of it. My stomach hurt and I
wrapped my hand around it. “I know. The look. On. Your.
Face.”

My eyes met his dark blue ones once
again and I could see a small bit of laughter there. He was
resisting a smile now.

“Come on, that was funny, Cowboy.
Lighten up and eat your bacon.”

He nodded, a genuine smile now
transforming his face into the handsome man I sometimes caught a
glimpse of. He scrubbed a hand over his beard then picked up a
piece of bacon and slowly put it in his mouth. I watched the action
with way too much attention. His teeth were pearly white and
perfectly straight, not something you’d notice right off-hand
because of the beard. I also thought I might have seen a dimple
puncturing his right cheek, but it was hard to tell because of the
facial hair. His nose was very straight, and again, those eyes of
his. I wanted to stare at them forever.