Sworn to Protect (13 page)

Drew stared at him.

Tommy went on, as serious as Shane had ever seen him. “A couple of years ago, when I was a brand-new paramedic, we got this call about a boy who’d touched a live power line while walking home from school. He wasn’t supposed to be on that street, taking the long way home, but he made two bad decisions that ended his life.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Drew pointed out.

“No. But that call ended up being my very first attempt at performing CPR on an actual victim.” Tommy’s voice grew husky, his blue eyes bleak at the memory. “I’ll never forget the feeling of his chest under my hands, the blank look on his face. I had his life in my hands, and I couldn’t save him. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t my fault. That boy’s death is something I’ll have to cope with for the rest of my life.”

Bless Tommy. Shane could’ve kissed him.

Drew studied his tennis shoes. “I get it.”

“Do you? I sure hope so. Every decision a person makes affects someone else eventually. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve seen at the end of their road because of bad choices. They all hurt not just emergency workers, but the countless loved ones they leave behind.”

“I never thought of it like that before.” The boy met his eyes again. “I guess you won’t want me staying at your house anymore, and I don’t blame you.”

The other man gave him a smile. “Hey, my lecture aside, I’m still pretty young myself.” Drew snorted at that as he went on. “Seriously, I’m a big kid at heart. Once is a mistake, and you’ve promised it won’t happen again, so we’re cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Tommy.”

Shane rose and gestured toward the bedrooms. “Go get your stuff together so we can get out of their hair.”

His brother-in-law stepped in, clamping a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “I don’t want to end our visit on that note. Why don’t you let him hang with me for a while? I was about to get up, fetch my fishing pole, and go down to the bank to see what I can catch, if Drew wants to join me.”

“Do you mind? Please?”

He was about to say no, but the boy suddenly seemed excited, despite his lack of sleep and all the drama. Tommy was a good role model, and God knows Drew needed as many of those as he could get. And this would show the boy that the man truly had forgiven him for the stunt he’d pulled in sneaking out. “I guess that would be all right. As long as you send him home the second he wears out his welcome.”

Tommy laughed. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. Go on. We’re good.”

He turned to Drew. “I do want you back this afternoon so we can talk about when you and Ty are going to start your repair work.”

“Yes, sir.”

Well, that was more like it. As he pulled out of the drive to return to his own place next door, he couldn’t help but worry about Drew. Despite everyone’s support, the boy was lost. He’d prayed love and firm guidance would be enough. Now he wasn’t so sure.

One thing he
was
sure of—Ty Eastlake’s father was getting a visit from him very soon. Shane smelled a big rat.

And, eventually, he’d make it squeal.

He’d been awakened so damned early, Shane flopped on his bed the minute he got home around seven and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up later that morning, he was disoriented and not much better rested than before. His dreams had been strange and disturbing. He had one where he’d been running, but he couldn’t see what was behind him. He just knew he couldn’t let the beast catch him, or he was dead.

He hated nightmares. He always wondered if they meant something prophetic, or if they were just the product of a brain that ran in fast-forward all the time, unable to rest even in sleep. Whatever the cause, he felt off-kilter.

A cup of coffee helped regain some of his equilibrium. A second cup while reading the morning paper and he was approaching human. He could pay a visit to Carl Eastlake now and hold his own. Briefly, he thought about taking Chris with him, but that would probably tip off the man that he was being watched. No, best to keep the visit from one father to another. Even though the bastard was a joke of a human being, much less a dad.

But it would give Shane the opportunity to glimpse the man’s private space. Something the police hadn’t been able to do before on their brief visits, at least not out of uniform, as a regular citizen. There had been plenty of official visits, though, with the police called by neighbors to break up domestic disturbances where Carl had been hitting his son, screaming at him day and night. A few had resulted in arrests, but not for battery, since the boy wouldn’t speak against his dad. No, the busts had been for public intoxication, minor possession of controlled substances, petty stuff. Nothing that kept him in jail for very long. The police knew he was into bigger shit; they just hadn’t been able to catch him. There wasn’t enough to hand over to the detectives in Shane’s unit to even begin to make a case.

Punching the address into his GPS, Shane set off for Eastlake’s place. It wasn’t hard to find—all he had to do was look for the mangiest, most weed-choked yard in the neighborhood and he was there. As he pulled up and parked at the curb, he grimaced. There was no sidewalk, and the dead brown weeds were thigh high. If it wasn’t the middle of winter, he’d probably end up with chiggers and ticks all over him. Hell, he might, anyway.

“Great.”

Wading through the mess, he stepped onto the front porch and hoped it would hold his weight. By some miracle it did, and he knocked, since the bell was broken. He waited for a couple of minutes and knocked again. When there was no response, he turned and stepped off the porch, deciding to have a look around the back of the house.

The driveway, and that was using the term loosely, was rutted and muddy, more weeds poking valiantly between the tire grooves. A detached garage was out back, so he headed there and wasn’t surprised to see the big, shiny new Escalade Drew had mentioned parked inside. So, the bastard was home and was either sleeping or ignoring Shane. He was betting on the second option. Which meant he was likely being watched.

“Hello? Mr. Eastlake?”

Acting as though he wasn’t snooping, he made a show of looking for the man, calling out his name occasionally while scoping out the place. The garage was the typical jumble of auto parts, paint, tools, and a lawnmower and cleaning supplies that had obviously never been called upon to serve their purpose. Nothing stood out as a red flag, but then, he hadn’t exactly expected to find bags of cocaine lying around in the open.

“Hello?”

The backyard wasn’t much of one. Half the fence was gone, and the one poor tree looked dead. Again he wondered why the hell Drew was hanging out with this kid, Ty. What was he getting out of this friendship? Nothing positive so far.

“Can I help you?”

Turning around, he pasted on a friendly smile. “Oh, hey. You must be Mr. Eastlake.” Moving forward, he extended his hand. As the man grasped it with a hand that couldn’t have seen a bar of soap in a week, Shane vowed to douse his own with bleach at the first opportunity. “I’m Shane Ford, Drew’s guardian.”

In a glance, he took in an older version of Ty, without the black hair dye. The man was about four inches shorter than Shane and wiry. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown and streaked with premature gray from presumed hard living. His jeans and T-shirt hung off his frame, but for all that, he didn’t look weak.

He appeared mean and tough, like a half-starved Doberman.

The man dropped his hand, giving him a blank look. And didn’t return his smile. “Who?”

“Drew, from the high school,” he said, carefully avoiding the boy’s last name. “Our boys seem to have become friends, and they got into some trouble last night.”

Eastlake’s expression cleared. “Oh yeah. Ty mentioned once that he had a new friend, but I haven’t met him. I’m not home much.”

You don’t say.
He was glad, though, that the man didn’t appear to know who exactly Drew was. “Oh. Well, I just thought I’d come over and introduce myself, since Drew can’t stop talking about Ty.” Jesus, he sounded like the president of the PTA. “And I wanted to find out when you think is a good time for them to start on the painting they need to do for the man whose barn and house they tagged.”

He was careful not to mention Johnson by name. Wouldn’t do any good to put Eastlake on alert.
Remember, you’re a dad, not a cop.

Eastlake peered at him, scratching his chin as though observing a strange species of father—one who gave a damn. “Beats the hell out of me,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t care if they do it or not. Johnson’s an asshole.”

“But if they don’t, he’ll press charges.”

He chuckled at that, then spit on the grass. “Nah, he won’t. He knows I’d kick his fuckin’ ass.”

“So he’s a friend of yours?” he asked, pretending ignorance.

“Wouldn’t call him that, exactly. More like an acquaintance who doesn’t want to screw with me.”

“Is that so? I’ll bet he knows who’s boss.” Shane chuckled as though commiserating with the prick when what he wanted to do was punch him in the face. The man actually smiled at that, so he played it up a bit more. “In any case, my boy could use the practice with that brush arm so I can put his lazy butt to work at home next. If you want yours to do the same, I’d be glad to give them a ride out there and back until they’re finished.”

“You know, that’s a good idea you got there. The place could use a fresh coat of paint. I’ll take you up on that, Ford.”

Paint, hell. It could use a bulldozer.

“Great. I figure they can work after school this week and this coming weekend. Give them something to do besides get in our hair. Right?”

“You bet.” Eastlake waved a hand in dismissal. “Pick the kid up whenever, I don’t care. He gives you any lip, just remind him what’ll happen if daddy gets pissed off.”

Bastard.
“Sure thing. Nice talking to you.”

The man grunted and turned back to the house. Shane wondered as he returned to his truck whether Ty was inside, nursing the effects of
What Happens When Daddy Gets Pissed Off
, and it made him see red.

He was cursing as he pulled away. Sooner or later Eastlake would get what he had coming.

Shane hoped he’d be around when that happened.

•   •   •

Daisy sat at her desk, reviewing case files of the juveniles she was currently working with. Or trying to, anyway.

It was only Monday, and her concentration was shot. She had a sexy cowboy of a cop to thank for that, once again. She hadn’t really come to terms with the first time he’d screwed her over—in every sense—and she’d gone and fallen for his smooth talking again.

She was more than a little angry with herself, too. Sure, his sad story had touched her. Who could hear of his parents’ deaths and how he had to take care of Shea in the aftermath without understanding where he was coming from? He didn’t want responsibility for anyone but himself, and who could blame him?

There was Drew now, though, and while she knew Shane loved the boy, he couldn’t possibly want to take on a relationship with Daisy, or any woman, on top of that. The man’s fatal flaw was that he was a serial bachelor.

Except now he was chasing after her like a hound dog on a scent. The first time he’d turned on the charm months ago, she’d lapped the attention, and
him
, like cream. Then he’d broken her heart and sent her reeling. And damned if she hadn’t fallen right back into bed with him at the first crook of his finger!

“I’m an idiot,” she muttered.

But a sexually satisfied one.

Opening another file, she attempted to keep the moodiness off her face. Unlike Shane and a couple of the other senior detectives, peons like Daisy were assigned a desk out in the main room among all the other desks. When you worked with people every day, you learned how to read their moods, and these guys were like vultures. They’d pick her clean in seconds if they smelled blood.

She was managing her calm facade pretty well until she heard a familiar, hated whine of a voice—and Shane’s answering laugh. Her fingers tightened on her file as she looked up.

Shane was in his office, leaning against his desk as he smiled at something Leslie Meyers was saying. Leslie was a uniformed officer who’d worked for the department for a long time. She was short, redheaded, fit, and good-looking enough—thanks to a nip and tuck job that removed a few years from her face. But every time she laughed, Daisy thought a goat had somehow found its way into the station.

The female officer leaned toward him, laying a hand on his arm as they yukked it up. Leslie trailed a finger down his chest playfully, and Daisy started to feel more than a little homicidal. A few seconds later, the woman winked and sauntered out.

“It’s a date!” she called, making certain the entire squad room heard. Or probably just Daisy, if the smirk she shot in her direction was any clue.

Daisy fumed silently, glaring back.
A date?
What the hell?

Leslie made a point to walk by her desk, and paused. “How’s kiddie patrol, Daisy Duke?”

She gave the woman a sweet smile. “Same as slut patrol is for you, Leslie Botox.”

The cop’s mouth dropped open. That was mean, but the woman deserved it. She walked around the department like she ruled the roost, and many of the guys who hadn’t slept with her were intimidated by her.
Not me, bitch.
Everyone knew that if you called Daisy by that hateful nickname, the gloves were off.

The other woman quickly composed herself, though her cheeks sported red flags. “Men appreciate a woman who takes care of herself. Especially Shane.”

Daisy lowered her voice in a conspiratorial manner and winked. “Oh, I know.”

A flash of anger went across Leslie’s face; then she recovered, snorting. “Right. Gotta go. I have
real
work to do—before I have dinner and a nightcap with a certain hot detective. Guess he’s wanting a repeat performance, and I can’t wait.”

As she strutted away, Daisy wanted to tear off her head. Then Shane’s balls.
Dinner? Nightcap? Repeat performance?

Shane chose that unfortunate moment to leave his office and appear at her desk with a smile on his face. “Hey, sugar. I really enjoyed Saturday ni—”

“As much as you’re going to love
dinner
with Leslie?” she asked coolly.

His smiled faded. “What?”

“Dinner. You know, that thing a man and a woman do when he’s feeding you a total line of bullshit to go with dessert?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she hissed. “Have you or have you not slept with that ho?”

“Whoa! Lower your voice,” he said, glancing around. The few officers around were studiously pretending not to listen. “What’s gotten into you? Did she say something to you?”

She stared at him. “Nice work, Detective. Of course she said something! You have a lot of nerve. You know that?”

“What do you mean?” To his credit, he appeared at a loss.

Gathering her purse from the floor, she stood. “After Saturday, I had hopes that you’d change, that things would be different. Then I told myself how stupid I was, and it turns out I was right—I’m a moron. I come running every time you beckon, and yet you still can’t let your poodles off their leashes.”

“Leslie?” he asked, looking dumbfounded. “She’s not my poodle, or my anything else! I mean, yes, a couple of years ago we— we—” He broke off at her murderous glare. “Well, that doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m not interested in her!”

“Then why is she gloating that you’re taking her out? I believe a nightcap and a repeat performance came up.”
I will not throttle him.

“It’s lunch, not dinner!”

She could tell that the instant it left his mouth, he knew that was precisely the wrong thing to say. He stammered as she stabbed his chest with one fingernail.

“You know what? Fuck you, Shane! Fuck you!”

“Wait! It’s not what you think!”

As she swept past, the others were done pretending not to stare. They goggled openly, glancing between the woman who’d dressed down the golden boy of the department, and Golden Boy himself. Let them—she didn’t give a crap!

As she stalked past Chris and Taylor she heard a snippet of conversation.